Title: Crossjurisdictional Romance
Author: Buffy
Rating: FRT
Pairing: Gil/Horatio
Summary: Gil isn't as detached as he appears; the object of his attachment just isn't close by.
Notes: Starts before 5th season starts, goes from there. Depending on whether or not you think it's worth it, there may be a smutty sequel. Also, FYI, this is my first serious slash fic for CSI.

***

Catherine was glad she'd taken the suggestion and skipped out on the conference for the day. The first day's activities were geared towards get-to-know-yous and introductory stuff for those new to conventions and/or forensics. Besides, spending the day indulging in some girl talk and shopping with someone other than her mother or Lindsey was something she hadn't done in too long.

Catherine glanced over to her partner in crime for the day, catching the Southern woman's reaction to the Strip in daylight. She hid it better than most, but she still had the tourist's surprise at the reality of Vegas. "You get used to it after a while. Come on, Caesar's has some of the best shopping you've ever seen!"

Calleigh was happy to have a native guide, and Catherine was fun to spend time with. They'd spent the day so far dishing about all the good-looking guys they worked with, especially their supervisors (well, former supervisor in Cath's case.)

It wasn't until after she'd finished taking a picture of the front of the casino that she registered the couple leaning against the wall next to the door. Her hands stopped with the camera still held half in front of her face.

"What, spot some of the local color?"

"Seems we aren't the only ones playing hooky," she gestured with her camera, not quite able to verbalize what she was seeing. The shocked look on the older woman's face let her know when she saw them, but the wicked grin that followed ignited a matching streak of mischief in her.

"Should we interrupt? Or do we keep the knowledge for use another day?"

"Interrupt, definitely. That way we get to ask questions, and they can't deny anything." With a chuckle they moved in on their unsuspecting prey.

"Discussing differences in investigative techniques?" The two men sprang apart at Catherine's cheerful question.

"Catherine, I thought you'd be at the seminar," Gil tried to pull his thoughts together, unnerved by the sudden appearance of the two grinning blondes.

"Well, Calleigh and I decided to skip out on the opening day activities, looks like you two did, too."

The other man let out a soft "Fuck," before making eye contact. "Catherine, good to see you again."

"Same here. I'd ask how you're enjoying Las Vegas so far, but it looks like Gil's got that . . . in hand, shall we say?" Neither woman could hold back their laughter as the men blushed at Catherine's innuendo. Calleigh took pity on them first.

"Well, now that we've found you, we're going to take you to lunch where we will question you mercilessly about your relationship. Then we'll play nice and never mention it again except in complete privacy." The matching looks of mingled relief and trepidation made her want to giggle again, but she restrained herself. What did they expect, they worked with CSIs, curiosity and tenacity were job requirements.

Catherine really hadn't thought much about it again until they were all sitting in the ICU waiting room, just 12 hours after Nick had been found. Catherine and Warrick had stayed near Nick after riding in with him until Sara and Greg had shown up. It'd taken them seven hours to process the scene, and after they'd arrived, Cath and Warrick had left to get coffee, a shower, and a change of clothes, not necessarily in that order. Gil had arrived only an hour before, slipping in to sit quiet and pale as a ghost in the corner of the waiting room.

They'd run out of small talk and news, and were sitting quietly when Gil's cell phone rang. Everyone jumped as the first few bars of "Surfin' USA" shattered the stillness. Gil hurriedly pulled the phone out to answer, and the others unashamedly distracted themselves by listening in to his side of the conversation, wondering whose number was attached to the unusual (for Gil) ringtone.

"Grissom. Yeah, no, it's alright. We found him, we found Nick. No, he's alive, thank god. It was so close, the bastard-No, no, don't change your vacation days. You wouldn't let me leave to come out and support you during the funeral, you certainly don't need to rush out and hold my hand while we wait to hear specifics about just how alive Nick is! I'm sorry, I know, I understand, but you'll be here next week, that's soon enough. Just hearing your voice helped. Yeah, I'll see you soon. And, thanks, for wanting to be here."

They stayed quiet, not remarking on anything they'd heard, allowing the fiction of privacy to stand. If nothing else, the strain and emotion they'd heard in the voice of a man who was usually the soul of control made them realize how hard this case had hit. They watched as Gil slumped down in his chair and tilted his head back to rest against the wall. He looked like a tired, old man without the intensity and curiosity that usually fueled him to camouflage his age.

At 4 pm, the nurses firmly, but kindly kicked them out. They were informed that while such dedication to their friend was admirable, that 24/7 vigils were not required. The nurse told them that Nick was going to be moved to a regular room soon, but that none of them would be allowed to see him until they'd eaten, slept, and changed clothes.

Catherine ducked out to answer her cell phone while the nurse argued with Sarah, Warrick and Greg. When she came back, she stepped in to stop the argument. "Okay, guys, Brass is meeting us for lunch, dinner, whatever you want to call what we'll be eating. Warrick, you ride with Sarah and Greg, I'm riding with Gil. Angelo's over on the strip, ok?"

The younger CSIs knew better than to try to argue with her at that point. They argued over who was driving as Catherine went over to get Gil. "Come on, you need some food and some coffee, stat." Gil didn't even try to fight her, just handed her the keys and led the way to the parking garage.

The group met up with Brass outside of the restaurant. What news there was on both sides was shared as they waited for the hostess and the waitress to pull together two tables so there would be enough seats. Sara was standing next to Catherine, facing the doors, so she saw when the man entered. He had obviously just arrived, since he was still carrying his duffle bag with the airline tags on it. His mouth quirked up in a small smile when he saw their group, and he made his way confidently to Grissom's side.

Sara was surprised when the stranger asked Grissom in a soft tone, "Have room for one more?" She was even more shocked at Grissom's reaction. A look of shock was replaced with delight, which was almost immediately replaced with relief. Neither man seemed conscious of their audience as they moved to embrace each other, clinging tightly together for a long moment.

Grissom pulled back first, "I told you not to move your vacation."

The other man smiled wryly as he replied, "I didn't. Calleigh was with me when I called, and she took the news and passed it to the team. Alexx immediately called and booked a ticket on the first flight out here, then let herself into my house with her key and packed my bag. Meanwhile, Calleigh talked to the department psychiatrist, and convinced him that this would be therapudic for me, so he tacked on an extra week to my vacation. They recruited Eric to tell the captain that I had just wrapped up the case I was on and had my paperwork as finished as it was going to get. Thirty minutes after I hung up with you, they had me delivered to the airport and on my way here." He tilted his head and dropped his eyes from Gil's, "I can't say I mind too much. I needed to get out of Miami."

Gil's posture lost it's defensive edge, "I'm glad you're here." Before he could say more, the hostess came to take them to their table. He and Gil walked together, close enough that their shoulders or hands brushed as they walked. When they were all sitting, the pressure of the stares from almost everyone at the table reminded Gil of the social niceties. Greg took the inititive in introductions before anyone else could decide what to say.

"Hey, I'm Greg Sanders, former DNA God and current fresh meat on the Graveyard shift."

"Good to finally meet you, Greg. I've heard some . . . interesting things about your work habits."

Catherine gave into the pleading look Gil shot her and stepped in to introduce the group. "Just so we can get this over with and get to the food: That is Greg, Sara, Brass, Sofia, and Warrick you already know. Everyone, this is Horatio Caine, head of the dayshift at Miami-Dade Crime Lab."

"You don't seem very surprised to see him here, Catherine. Care to share why?" Warrick figured she would be the easiest to get some straight answers from.

Catherine's smile widened into a smirk as she shot a glace over at the two men who had gone suspiciously still. "Well, that's because Calleigh and I skipped out on the first day of that conference six months ago. We ran into them on the Strip."

Brass's smirk was predatory, "Nuh uh, give it up. You're smirking too much for that to be the whole story."

"Well, that would be because of /how/ we ran into them."

Sofia's curiosity was killing her now, "Well, don't leave us hanging, details!"

Horatio cut in before Catherine had a chance to answer. He dug into his bag and pulled out a small manilla envelope and handed it over to the blonde saying, "Speaking of Calleigh, she asked me to pass this on to you, said you owe her big for this." He got the feeling that he'd made a tactical error after she opened the envelope. She started laughing almost hysterically, then held the picture out to Sofia, "This answer your question?"

A huddle quickly formed as all five tried to see the picture at once. Various exclamations of doubt, shock, and amusement were heard. The loudest was Greg's cackle that he wanted to be the one to show it to Nick, followed by Brass and Warrick arguing over whether or not it would be too much for him in his current state. Both Horatio and Gil were eyeing the door, contemplating making a quick getaway from the embarrassing situation. Only the knowledge that the laughter and diversion was helping the team cope with the events of the last 24 hours kept them in their seats.

"So let me get this straight. You two got caught kissing, on film, while you were playing hooky from a conference? Dang, Gris, I dind't think you had it in you!" Warrick's words were admiring, accompanied by a thumbs-up sign.

Mercifully, the waitress's arrival with drinks to take their food orders interrupted the teasing long enough for both men to regroup. By the time the food arrived, the team was conversing almost comfortably. Sara and Sofia seemed to be caught up in introspection, shooting both the photo and the two supervisors speculative looks. It was Catherine that brought up the topic of Speed. "I heard about you losing your CSI. He seemed like a good guy."

Horatio lost his smile, "He was. It's hard to lose a teammember, especially since we were all so close. One minute, I was giving him a hard time about his bike, the next he was bleeding on the floor. But we survived."

"So why didn't you want Gil coming out for his funeral?" Greg jumped when Sara jabbed her elbow into his ribs, then noticed all the glares directed his way, "What? You all listened in, too. Can I help it if I asked the question on everyone's mind?"

Horatio put a hand on Gil's arm, stopping him from reprimanding the young man. "It's a fair question. The easy answer is that it happened about the same time you failed your first field proficiency. Things were in flux, and there was too much going on for Gil to drop it all on Catherine just to fly out and hold my hand at the funeral. The truer answer is that I knew if I had the support there, I'd have gone to pieces. And right then, I needed to keep it together so I could support everyone else." No one wanted to keep questioning on what was obviously still a hard subject, so they let Gil and Horatio change the conversation.

An hour and a half later they returned to the hospital to find Nick not only in a regular room, but conscious. He obviously was nowhere near alright, but he was working hard at it. Horatio stood back by the doorway, letting the banter flow over him, basking in the relief palpable in the room. When Gil came over and leaned against him, Horatio put his arm around his lover's shoulder, leaning against him and spoke low. "It helps. Seeing him, knowing that you don't have to know what it feels like to watch someone you think of like a little brother die."

Gil rested his head against Horatio's shoulder, basking in the warmth of his presence. "He's getting a little overwhelmed. So am I. Can we just go home and pretend nothing else exists for a while?"

"Sounds good. I think . . . I think I'm tired of holding it together." Horatio buried his nose in Gil's hair, trying to hide the emotions he was having trouble holding back.

Gil felt the tension in his lover's body, and he tightened his arm in a reassuring hug. "Once we're home, neither of us will have to. We can fall apart and not feel guilty. Then I'll pick up your pieces and you can pick up mine."

Horatio breathed a soft laugh, one that bordered on a sob, "Sounds like paradise." He let himself get pulled out of the room and focused his entire attention on what he was planning to do to his lover in the privacy of the bedroom, trying to block out the images of another CSI who hadn't been as lucky as Nick.