In the Silence

title: In the Silence
fandom: CSI: Vegas
pairing: Nick/Gil
rating: R
series: The Seduction
sequel to: none
spoilers: none
author: nancy
email: the_tenth_muse1@yahoo.com
website: http://www.thetenthmuse1.madbrilliant.com/
feedback: yes, please! archive: let me know!
summary: When the worst happens, Gil discovers that he's not alone.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Grissom, but it's too far advanced. We can try the surgery, but honestly, I don't believe that it will do any good."

Gil stared in shock at the doctor, never truly having thought that would be the answer he would get. He'd thought there was time. He'd thought that the surgery would make everything fine.

"I know this is a blow," the man continued. "But there are arrangements that you need to begin making so that your transition will be as easy as possible."

Transition to a world of silence, Gil thought numbly.

"Is there someone who can help you through this? Do you have a wife?"

Asked a direct question, Gil broke himself from the fog enough to answer, "No, no I never married."

"Family?"

"My mother is dead and I'm an only child, but I, there is someone who can help me with this," Gil told him, thinking of Deborah.

With a compassionate look, the doctor said, "Even though we'll set up time for that surgery within the next couple of days, you should contact that person as soon as possible, Mr. Grissom. Be sure and make arrangements for your caretaking after. We won't need to keep you overnight, but someone should stay with you for twenty-four hours after."

Gil nodded agreement. "Of course. I'll contact my friend."

The doctor left him there, to collect himself most likely, and Gil took a few minutes to do just that. He couldn't think beyond the surgery, not yet. Taking a breath, he thought firmly, One thing at a time. Surgery, then results. This could still work out.

Not that he really believed it, but it made him able to get to his feet and leave the exam room.

* * * *

"What's up with Grissom?" Nick asked, frowning at Catherine.

Lips pursed, she answered, "He's dealing with some personal problems and that's all I can say without breaking a confidence."

Well that doesn't sound good, Nick thought, his frown deepening. "When's he going to be back?"

Catherine rubbed his shoulder and said, "Probably tomorrow."

"Probably?"

"It's...complicated."

Nick opened his mouth to demand more information, worry increasing with her evasiveness, when Warrick and Sara arrived for the shift. Catherine gave him a solo case, which should have kept him more than busy enough to not think of Grissom, but it preyed at the back of his mind the whole time. There were few things that would keep the older man from work and he always complained loudly about anything that was of little consequence. That, of course, meant that something important was going on, possibly right as he was collecting evidence.

Adding two and two together, namely that Grissom had vanished with short notice and didn't want anyone save Catherine to know what was going on, and Nick absolutely knew it had to do with the other man's health. His body was on automatic pilot as he ran through the B&E that had turned into murder. Fortunately, the criminal in this particular case wasn't the brightest bulb in the flower patch and he collected usable prints in the kitchen. The prints kicked out in AFIS and Nick and O'Reilly went to arrest one Rennie Fin, aka Mike Johnson.

Nick found himself done a couple of hours before the shift was over, but rather than catch up on his paperwork, he began making calls to local hospitals. It wasn't hard to track Grissom down at Desert Palms, though getting information on what the actual surgery itself was took a little flirting.

Stunned at the thought that Grissom could be going deaf, Nick suddenly looked at all the times the other man had seemed to space out, frowning and staring at his mouth, in a completely different context. He'd been hoping that it had meant Grissom was interested in him, but unsure of how to proceed. Now he realized that Grissom had been reading his lips, trying to figure out what he'd been saying.

Tracking Catherine down in trace, he asked shortly, "Cath, can we talk?"

She looked at him for all over two seconds before grimacing and telling Greg, "I'll be back in ten."

For once, Greg had no snappy comeback, maybe sensing Nick's turmoil.

Shutting the door to the interrogation room behind them, Nick took a few seconds to collect his whirling thoughts before asking, "Was he going to tell any of us, or just not show up one day if the surgery didn't work out?"

Catherine sighed. "It's not that simple, Nick. He needed to believe that things were going to go better than expected."

"And that didn't happen," Nick stated flatly.

Shaking her head, Catherine told him, "There was a complication in the surgery itself. He wasn't even supposed to be kept overnight, but something went wrong."

Tension ratcheting up a notch further, Nick demanded, "What went wrong? Is he gonna be okay?"

Catherine gazed on him for a long minute, then said, "I know you're his friend, Nick, but why are you asking this?"

Knowing that his answer would determine just how far into the loop he would be allowed, Nick replied honestly, "I want to be there for him, no matter what, Cath."

"He's not going to want any help," she pointed out.

Nick snorted. "No kidding. Losing his hearing isn't going to make Gris any more approachable, that's for damn sure."

She smiled at that and gripped his shoulder, saying, "You're going to have to make him hear you, Nick, and I don't mean with his ears."

Which put things on a completely practical level. How could he communicate, aside from writing things down? He couldn't sign or read lips.

Catherine's hand tightened on his shoulder and she assured him, "If you hang in there long enough, he's going to have to listen, Nick."

Why do I think that's going to be easier said, than done? Nick wondered silently.

* * * *

It was difficult to think through the fog that surrounded him, thanks to the anesthesia. There was something wrong, but he couldn't quite figure out what. Everything seemed cocooned in cotton, giving the world a thick, unnatural feeling to it.

"Mr. Grissom? Are you back with us? Mr. Grissom?"

The voice held a strange echo to it, as well as being quieter than usual. Focusing on it, however, gave Gil a way to get through the drug veil encompassing him. Blinking rapidly, Gil found his doctor looking down at him and croaked through a dry throat, "How'd it go?"

"Gil."

Surprised that Catherine was in the room, though not really that he hadn't noticed her, given his fuzzy state, Gil looked over at her. She looked just as sober as the doctor, which didn't bode well at all. He sighed and glanced back at the doctor and said, "It didn't work, did it?"

"Unfortunately, no," the man replied, grave. "I'm afraid that the damage is even further along than I thought."

His gut tightened at the pronouncement and Gil asked, "How long?"

"A few weeks, a month at the outside."

No more than a month before he lost his hearing. Shock rendered him mute. His stomach rebelled unexpectedly enough that he was barely able to twist to the side to avoid throwing up on his own bed. The doctor's reflexes weren't so good and his shoes were splashed with vomit. Catherine's hand rubbed soothing circles over his back as his stomach emptied what little remained in it. When he was done, Gil sank against the pillows and couldn't bring himself to even look at the man who'd tried to heal him, but failed.

My own damn fault, he thought in bitter hindsight. My own damn fault.

"I'll have a nurse clean that up and let you adjust to the news, Mr. Grissom. I am truly sorry," the man apologized.

One day, when he wasn't struggling to not fall apart, Gil would make his own apology, because the doctor had done his best. Catherine continued to rub his back and he was abruptly transported back in time forty years when he was home sick with bronchitis and his mother had done the same thing after a particularly violent coughing fit. His mother. Genetics. This had been in the cards since he'd been born, it had just taken longer than expected.

"Nick's here and he'd like to see you, but I can send him home," Catherine told him.

Knowing that he was in no shape to see anyone else, Gil nodded and said, "I just want to be alone, Catherine, can you leave me for the night?"

"Gil, you shouldn't be alone right now."

"Please, Catherine."

He didn't actually hear her sigh, but felt the movement through the hand on his back and a twinge of fear ran through him. Had it already begun?

"All right. Call me if you need me," she admonished, kissing his temple before standing and leaving the room.

He watched her go, then closed his eyes. Maybe if he slept a little longer, it wouldn't be there when he woke. This would all be a nightmare induced by the anesthesia and the surgery would have worked fine.

Gil needed the denial for just a little longer.

* * * *

Nick sat alone in the hospital hallway outside Grissom's door for a long time. The nurses had long since given up trying to move him and, since he wasn't causing any trouble or trying to actually get into Grissom's room, they left him alone. Catherine had told him that Gil had taken the news of his hearing loss badly, that he hadn't wanted to see anyone, not even her. Nick could understand that, intellectually, but it had still been a kick in the gut.

Head hanging down, rubbing at tired eyes, Nick tried to think about what to do next. He didn't doubt in the least that Grissom was capable of handling it on his own, but Nick wasn't about to let him. The problem was in taking on enough to help, but not so much as to offend. Grissom had enough pride for the both of them, or he wouldn't have been in the hospital without anyone save Catherine knowing about it.

"Son, you really should go home and get some sleep. He's going to be fine," a kindly voice told him.

Looking up, Nick found the lead nurse smiling down at him and offered a rueful one of his own. "I know, but I'll just be up all night anyhow."

She hesitated, then said, "It's against policy, but you can have a quick, ten minute visit if he's awake. Don't upset him, now, and if he's sleeping, come right back out."

Nick was startled by the offer, but stood quickly, giving her a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, ma'am, I really appreciate it."

"Go on now," she admonished, still smiling.

Creeping silently into the room, Nick wasn't surprised to find Grissom out like a light. He looked so vulnerable, so weary even in sleep, that Nick had to cross to the bed and do what he could to comfort. He brushed the softly gray hair from Grissom's forehead and gently smoothed his thumb over the furrowed brow as he murmured, "It'll be okay, Grissom, we'll deal with it. I'm here for you man, even if you don't know it yet."

He stayed a few more minutes, pleased that Grissom seemed to be resting better from the caresses. Knowing his time was just about up, Nick sighed softly and dared a brief kiss to the sleeping man's temple. Fortunately, his impulse didn't wake Grissom and he was able to make his escape without being caught. Nick stopped at the nurse's station and asked, "Is Gil Grissom being discharged tomorrow?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, we can't release that information unless you're family," one of the nurses said.

Nick didn't even hesitate to pull his credentials and say, "I really need the information, ma'am."

The young woman hesitated, then nodded. "He'll be ready to go around ten."

"Thanks," Nick replied, smiling briefly.

That was just enough time to go home and get some sleep.

* * * *

It was strange to wake up feeling so rested, but he did. There was the sensation of having been visited at some point in the night, perhaps while he slept, but knew that the nurses wouldn't have let anyone in. Shaking it off as wishful thinking, Gil groggily got out of bed and slowly made his way to the bathroom.

Once business was taken care of, he stared at himself for a long time in the mirror, doing his best not to think at all. Random thoughts went through his mind. What would he do for work? Would he stay in Vegas where people knew him, or start fresh where there were no expectations? Could he even face the pity he knew awaited him, or would it hurt too much? How would he handle his friends' reactions? How would he even tell them?

Sighing, Gil splashed cold water on his face and ambled out of the bathroom. He stopped short, startled to find Nick waiting for him. Tempted to ignore the younger man, but knowing Nick's tenacious nature wouldn't allow him to leave without some kind of sop to his conscience, Gil restrained a sigh as he approached.

"How're you feeling?" Nick asked quietly.

Gil's lips twisted, but he took the question at face value and replied, "Fine, thank you. The anesthesia has worn off and there's no residual pain from the surgery."

"Good," Nick said, half-smiling. "Now how are you feeling, really?"

Grimacing for real, Gil answered, "What do you want me to say, Nick? There's nothing to say."

Nick shook his head and countered, "There's plenty to say. Like this isn't something you have to go through alone, Gris. Let us help you, wherever we can."

"There's nothing you can do, Nick. You're not the one going deaf."

The harsh words provoked a flinch from Nick, but he persevered, saying, "No, but I'm a friend and I want to help."

"Just…if you want to help, leave me alone," Gil informed him, turning towards the dresser that hopefully held his clothing. "I don't need your help."

"Yes, you do."

It was as firmly stated as Gil's own words before it. Turning an incredulous gaze upon Nick, he snapped, "I'm not some charity case, Nick! I'm an adult who knows perfectly well what's going to happen. I have someone who knows what it's like and she's going to help me. You can't."

"So if I lost my sight, you wouldn't be able to help me because you've never been blind?" Nick demanded, just as agrily. "If I were in a car accident and lost my leg, only Doc Robbins could give me a hand? Jesus, Gil, do you know how fucking arrogant you sound? Not to mention hurtful as all hell? I thought we were friends, at the least, and friends help one another in tough times."

Folding his arms over his chest, Gil kept his resolve through sheer force of will. The pain staring back at him from those dark eyes almost overwhelmed him, but there was no way he would allow his weakness for Nick to drag the young man into something for which he was unprepared. There'd been little chance for them before and now there was none, he knew that. Nick should be with someone who could give him everything he deserved and that was no longer Gil, if it ever had been.

Nick scowled and said, "Get dressed so I can get you out of here."

"You? I'm waiting for…"

"Your deaf doctor friend is busy. I'm driving you home to get your things and bring you to the campus. Although why the hell you'd want to stay with a bunch of kids, I have no idea."

Startled, both by the scathing words and hard expression, Gil drew back as though bit. Regaining his composure, he returned to the dresser and pulled his clothes out and then went back to the bathroom to change.

His reflection caught his attention and Gil was surprised anew; this time by how hurt he looked. Nick's apparent defection cut deep, even though it had been what he'd been trying to achieve.

Just goes to show that everyone's looking for an out, even people you thought were friends, Gil thought, doing his best to take a deep breath and calm down.

That inner voice, the one that was always brutally honest, countered, What did you expect? You essentially cut him down, verbally, and cut him out of your life at the same time. Did you want him to just be happy about it?

No, Gil replied tiredly to himself. But it should have taken longer to shake him loose.

That it was Nick, just made it hurt all the more.

* * * *

Nick sucked in a hard breath, physically holding his stomach to keep his insides steady. He'd never done well with confrontation, especially not with authority figures or friends, and to stand up and not just argue, but be harsh with someone who was both made him literally sick to his stomach.

Grissom was out of the bathroom in short order, looking cool and collected as he gave Nick an unreadable expression. A nurse entered the room just then with a wheelchair which Grissom looked like he was going to protest, and then didn't at the last second. Putting his bag on his lap, he filled out the paperwork she handed him and returned them to her. Once she was gone, Nick took up position behind, grabbing hold of the handles. He pushed the chair smoothly out of the room towards the elevator. Grissom stayed silent, so Nick did as well.

The second they were outside, Grissom put his feet down to stop the wheelchair and Nick obligingly stopped pushing. Waiting until the other man faced him, Nick offered, "I'll go get the car."

"I can walk," Grissom stated.

Shrugging, Nick pointed towards his jeep in the first row and started walking. Grissom fell into step beside him, again not speaking. Nick felt every unspoken word like a stabbing accusation and his stomach roiled in warning. Swallowing the unpleasant taste, Nick focused on accomplishing his goal, which was to get Grissom settled at the college and then to get himself kicked into high gear so he could learn to be there for the other man properly.

It hadn't taken much to figure out what Gil was planning to do, even without Catherine's input. When he'd presented his idea to Dr. Phelps the day before, the woman had been resistant. She'd felt it a betrayal of Grissom's confidence. Nick had persisted, however, pointing out that the other man needed a support system in place and was refusing to put one in place himself. That left it to others to make sure that he had what he needed, whether or not he thought he wanted it. She'd still been unconvinced that Nick moving in was the right thing to do, but knowing Grissom as she did, hadn't any other solution.

They retrieved Gil's things in about an hour and Nick put the bags in the back so that Grissom wouldn't see his own possessions lining the narrow trunk space. Pulling into a spot at the school, Nick parked and climbed out of the jeep before going around back.

Gil remained silent as Nick handed over his bags, but when Nick hauled out his own dufflebag, exclaimed, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Didn't I tell you? I signed up for a couple of crash courses in how to sign and communicate with people who have suffered hearing loss," Nick said innocently. "Turns out they have these classes for families and friends of people who unexpectedly lose their hearing."

Looking like he'd swallowed something unpleasant, Gil snapped, "This is going too far, Nick!"

Nick shrugged, doing his best to look as uncaring as possible. "I'm on vacation for the next month, Grissom, you can't tell me how or where to spend it."

Grissom scowled and stalked towards the main entrance, not waiting for him.

Sighing slowly, Nick closed his eyes and sent a brief prayer heavenward that he didn't wind up with an ulcer before this whole thing was over.

* * * *

Ignoring Nick's presence, Gil used sign language to convey his severe displeasure to Deborah shortly after they'd arrived. Even if Nick had known the basics, there was no way he could have followed the rapid-fire signing as Gil exclaimed silently, "This is going to be bad enough without having someone I know witness it! How dare you do something like this behind my back? I thought we were friends, Deborah!"

"It's because we are friends that I'm doing this," she signed back, a stubborn tilt to her head. "Nick cares a great deal for you, Gil, and I know how you feel about him."

Jaw tight, Gil countered, "I don't want him here."

"Tough."

They glared at one another until Nick cleared his throat and stepped forward, saying, "Ah, guys? I'm still here, you know."

Gil snapped, "Go home, Nick! You don't belong here."

If he sounded childish, Gil figured that he was allowed, given everything he was about to go through. He stalked from the office down the hall to the admissions office to find out where he would be staying, since he hadn't asked Deborah while in her office. It was with a great deal of aggravation that he found Nick already in the double room when he finally found it.

Sprawled out on the bed, dressed only in t-shirt and clinging jeans.

Nick offered an easy grin as he pointed out, "You should've just stuck around. Would've saved you some time."

"You can't be staying here," Gil ground out.

"Wanna bet?" Nick countered, the grin growing. "We're roomies, roomie."

Thoroughly boxed in, Gil barely restrained himself from doing something rash. Instead, he snapped, "I need the bed by the wall."

Nick arched a curious eyebrow at him, but got up easily enough to sprawl over the other bed.

Ignoring him once again, Gil went about getting settled in, unpacking his bags and putting his books on the shelf against the wall.

"You feel like ordering out for lunch? I could go for some Thai," Nick suggested.

Still feeling somewhat churlish, Gil shook his head and replied stiffly, "I'm not hungry."

Nick shrugged. "Suit yourself. I've got a two o'clock class, so I guess I'll just catch something while I'm out and about then. See ya."

Gil watched him go, sinking onto his bed in a wave of confusion. Wasn't it bad enough that his entire life was being rearranged? Did he have to be taunted with the vision of what he could never have, as well?

A knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts and he stood, opening the door after an automatic look through the peephole.

Deborah stood on the other side, looking grave as she signed, "If you're truly dead-set against having him here, I'll send Nick home, but I think that would be a mistake, Gil."

Sighing, Gil signed back, "You don't know what this is going to do to me."

"I think I do," she countered. "Come on. Let's take a walk."

She took his arm, leading him from the dorm room and they walked until they reached the plaza. Like every other time, there were plenty of young people laughing and chatting and/or signing together while enjoying the warm afternoon sun. Pushing him lightly onto a bench, Deborah sat beside him and signed, "You're scared to let him see you vulnerable, which I understand. You're afraid that Nick should be with someone who can hear, which I also understand. What I don't understand is why you never made a move before this."

Glancing out over the quad, Gil thought about his answer before saying, "He's just starting out, Deborah. He shouldn't be tied to someone like me."

She arched an eyebrow. "Someone like you?"

"I'm at the height of my career and my life. It was pretty much all downhill from here, even before all of this with my hearing," Gil told her.

Deborah frowned at him, then punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Gil exclaimed, jerking away as she brought her fist up again.

Glaring at him, she stood and started signing so fast that he could barely follow as she said, "You are the most arrogant, frustrating, aggravating, self-involved idiot I have ever had the misfortune with which to be friends! Downhill? Jesus, Gil, you've got another twenty, thirty years left at a minimum! For all you know, Nick could be kidnapped and killed on the job by some psycho! Or you could get killed by a stray bullet in a grocery store robbery! Life is filled with uncertainties, Gil. The only thing I am sure of is that man loves you. If he didn't, he wouldn't be here, willing to learn an entirely new way of speaking and an entirely new way of looking at the world. All for you. You asshole."

Rubbing his shoulder, Gil flushed at the rightfully pissed lecture. When put that way, of course he was being an idiot, but he couldn't help feeling that Nick deserved someone else. Gil sighed and said, "He deserves better than me, Deborah."

"Why don't you let me decide that?"

Startled, Gil's head whipped left to find Nick standing only a couple of feet away. Even if he and Deborah hadn't gotten loud, there was no way the other man could've missed what they were talking about. Not with that last, damning sentence. Flushing once more, Gil asked weakly, "I thought you had a class."

"I lied," Nick answered. "Class doesn't start until tomorrow. So why don't you think I deserve someone who's intelligent, compassionate, funny, and a little weird about bugs?"

"Nick, we've got nothing in common," Gil protested.

Nick snorted derisively. "Yeah, right. Only our careers. Only a history that I think is pretty damn good. Why are you so set against this? Are you really that insecure?"

A quick look showed that Deborah had discreetly melted away, leaving them to hash it out on their own. Or not, depending. Glancing back at Nick, he finally said, "I've never been all that good at…relationships…to put it mildly. It's been a long time since I…since I've had the opportunity for anything more than affairs. The last time I did, well, it ended badly."

"How badly?"

"I accused her of murder."

"Lady Heather."

"Yes."

"Well, you know I haven't killed anyone, so we don't need to worry about you repeating that particular mistake."

"Nick…"

Nick held up a hand, offering a brief, apologetic smile. "Sorry. I'm not taking this lightly, Gil, I swear. It's just, I think you're putting a lot of pressure on yourself that doesn't need to be there. You've got this huge thing about to happen and I really just want to be there for you. I want to make it as easy on you as I possibly can, whatever that might entail. I'm willing to take whatever you can give and I know that that's probably not much right now. If something happens down the line, then trust me, I'm all over it. If it doesn't…it doesn't. Just don't shut me out, please."

Gil looked at the hand that Nick held out for a long minute, but it wasn't withdrawn. Wanting to accept the help, but not really sure how to do so, he sighed and gripped it hesitantly. He was pulled unexpectedly into a tight hug and stood stiff for a long moment before sinking into Nick's embrace. It was comforting and comfortable, neither of which he'd expected for some reason.

It seemed far too short a time later that they parted and Gil was absurdly grateful that Nick kept hold of his hand.

Gil was talking with Ecklie on the phone, of all things, when it happened. At first, he simply thought that the line went dead, but then he couldn't hear himself ask, "Conrad? Are you there?" even though he knew that he said it. He froze, a sick feeling overtaking him, and blindly hung up the phone without looking.

Absolute silence.

He looked around the busy office and saw everyone going about their job with, presumably, the resultant noise therein. Noise that he couldn't hear. It was a vortex. A visceral sensation of missing a vital piece of himself. And then the room swam as his breathing grew fast and harsh in his chest, but not his ears, panic flooding through him. He staggered over to the sofa, collapsing on it and gripping the edge of the cushions in a death grip.

Strong hands gripped his thighs moments later as Nick's face abruptly came into his line of sight. It took a few seconds to focus on his mouth, to comprehend what the other man was saying, to calm down and breathe, to relax, that everything would be all right. Rationality returned slowly, aided greatly by the solid contact of Nick's hands on him, and the worried, pinched look on Nick's face.

His own hand reached out and rested on Nick's throat. It was the strangest thing, watching Nick talk to him, feeling the vibrations transmit from the other man's throat to his hand but not actually hearing the words. Taking a deep breath, the first since his hearing had left him, Gil closed his eyes and slid his hand around the back of Nick's neck to pull him closer. He needed the Nick's strength, the understanding and comfort that had been so freely offered to him over the last month and a half. The last few days had, of course, been getting progressively worse, but Gil had refused to let anyone know that, not even Nick.

An uncertain time later, Gil pulled back, taking a grip on his emotions and shoving the panic down to deal with later. He had a lot of experience in compartmentalizing and it was definitely coming in handy. He offered a brief smile to Nick, who still looked so worried, and signed, "I'm okay."

Pulling his hands from Gil's legs, Nick signed back, "Are you sure? Can you hear anything?"

Gil shook his head, answering aloud, if tentatively, "Nothing."

Nick quirked a grin at him and mouthed, "Louder."

"How's this?" Gil asked, going what he hoped wasn't too loud.

Nodding, Nick replied, "Perfect."

A flash of humor struck unexpectedly and Gil couldn't help but laugh and hope that it didn't sound too hysterical.

"What?" Nick signed, frowning curiously.

Clearing his throat, Gil smiled at him reassuringly and signed, "Now I have an excuse to stare at your mouth in public."

Nick's flush caused Gil to laugh more. When the other man turned towards the door, Gil realized that someone had spoken and glanced over to find Catherine hovering in the door looking concerned. Waving her in, he signed, "I'm okay, just deaf."

Catherine arched an eyebrow at him and replied, clearly forming her words so he could read them easily, "Just deaf?"

Gil shrugged, having a firm grasp on his equilibrium. He could maintain it for at least as long as it took to get out of the building. It was something he'd worked out with Ecklie during that first, extremely difficult conversation over a month ago. If his final hearing loss occurred at work, he and Nick would leave and, when he felt up to it, Gil would return to his duties as supervisor, though the field would be out of his reach.

Returning his wandering attention to Catherine, Gil said, "I'll be fine."

Signing as he spoke, Nick added, "I'm going to take him home now, have Warrick help out Sara on the rest of the case for me?"

"Sure, of course," she agreed. "Gil, anything you need me to take on, or can it wait until you get back?"

Not knowing exactly when that would be, Gil replied, "The Fredrick's case and the Jane Doe that came in yesterday. Doc Robbins is doing the autopsy this afternoon."

Nodding, Catherine gripped his hand as he stood and then hugged him tightly. There wasn't really anything to say, so she merely smiled before leaving.

Gil looked at Nick and asked, "Ready to go?"

Nick half-smiled, motioning towards the door.

It took more nerve than he thought it would to actually walk out of the office. If Nick's hand hadn't been at his back, Gil wasn't all that sure he would've been able to do it. Spending the rest of his life in his office wouldn't be such a bad fate. There was plenty to keep him occupied and interested. The lone benefit to losing his hearing, was that he couldn't hear what had to be pitying remarks made as they left the building.

The ride to his condo was silent, of course, and Gil was too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice anything. It wasn't much different once they pulled into his driveway and went inside. A hand to his shoulder caught his attention and he faced Nick reluctantly, unsure what he would find there, now that it had finally happened. It was something of a surprise to find no sign of pity. There was pain in those dark eyes, and compassion, but no pity. Something eased deep inside and Gil relaxed a little.

"Do you want me to stick around?" Nick signed.

Gil hesitated, then nodded. He had no idea what to do now, but he knew that he didn't want to be alone. And he'd learned over the last several weeks that Nick wasn't going anywhere unless Gil told him to go and meant it. It was something that he was still getting used to; having someone there regardless of his circumstances. Nick didn't seem to care that that he could do so much better.

Squeezing his shoulder, Nick smiled and asked, "How about something to eat? I'll make chili."

Gil snorted. "Your chili takes hours."

"Exactly," Nick agreed.

Then again, maybe a project that took the rest of the day wasn't such a bad idea. Gil offered a faint smile and confirming nod as he motioned towards the kitchen.

* * * *

Nick couldn't remember being more panicked in his life than getting that call from Ecklie with the single phrase, "Grissom needs you."

He'd run from the car lab where he'd been working with Sara, straight to Grissom's office, knowing that was where he would be. The stairs were jumped down four at a time and he narrowly avoided crashing into two techs on the way. He'd hit the wall instead, bruising a shoulder, corrected his course and run the rest of the way. Finding Grissom hyperventilating on the sofa had stabbed through him and he'd skidded to a stop in front of the man, dropping to his knees hard enough to leave more bruises that he was still feeling.

Working in the kitchen with Grissom was soothing to him, reassurance that the other man wasn't going to go off the deep end. He knew that Gil had had therapy over the last several weeks at Deborah's behest, but had no idea how much work had actually been done. Grissom was intensely private and opening himself to a stranger would've been so difficult for him, if not impossible. God knew the other man hadn't opened up to Nick about what it was doing to him, to go deaf. The loss of his livelihood alone, inasmuch as he couldn't go into the field anymore, had to be a devastating blow.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a fairly comfortable fashion. If Gil was going to lose it, he showed no sign of it to Nick. Literally. The man smiled and communicated either verbally or with sign and was more than pleasant company. Not the reaction of a man dealing with hearing loss.

So Nick waited. They finished making the chili shortly after dusk and sat down to watch the news while eating it. He turned on the closed caption so Gil wouldn't have to worry about lip reading and ate his bowl of chili and thick garlic bread. After the news was a movie that he didn't pay any attention to, and then the news once again. They cleaned up the kitchen and then it was time to go. Looking at Gil, seeing the tension in the other man's shoulders and jaw, he asked, "Did you want me to stay the night?"

There was a long hesitation before Gil gave a clipped nod and left the kitchen.

Lips pursed, Nick followed Gil into the living room and discovered that he hadn't stopped there. The other man had gone straight through towards the bedrooms, which gave Nick pause. Was he to sleep in the spare room, or Gil's? It didn't matter to him, but there were so many ways for whatever he said to be taken the wrong way that he was leery about saying anything. That thought in mind, Nick simply walked into Gil's bedroom and started stripping to his underwear.

Better to beg forgiveness, than ask permission, he thought wryly.

And with the way Gil had been so standoffish since the diagnosis, Nick had the feeling that he wouldn't even have to beg forgiveness. Grissom probably wouldn't even comment on the fact that Nick was in his bed.

Gil came out of the master bath and stopped short on seeing Nick stretched out comfortably in the bed. He blinked a few times in apparent surprise, then said carefully, "There is an extra toothbrush under the sink cabinet."

Nick nodded and rolled out of the bed, passing Gil on the way to the bathroom. Nick took his time brushing his teeth and using the facilities, wanting to give Grissom enough space to compose himself. When it couldn't be put off any longer, he took a deep breath and then returned to the bedroom, climbing into the bed and immediately curling up around Grissom. Biting his lip, he waited for Grissom's reaction, aside from the instant tension that made the other man's body rigid in a not-fun way.

* * * *

Finding Nick in his bed was a surprise, but having the other man curl up on top of him was a shock. He lay there, stiff and wary, for several minutes, but Nick did nothing aside from sigh deeply and relax against him. The heavy arm over his midriff was comforting more than sexual, and he eventually took his own deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing for the first time since his hearing had left him.

He shifted to turn off the bedside lamp and a new kind of tension aligned itself into his body as a second sense was taken by the darkness. He knew it was stupid, but couldn't help himself from reaching over again and turning the light back on. Forming the words carefully, he asked, "Do you mind if I leave the light on?"

Nick signed a simple, "No."

Relieved, Gil half-smiled and relaxed once more against the pillows. It didn't seem to take long for Nick to fall asleep, becoming so much deadweight against him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had someone in his bed, but it certainly hadn't been for sleeping. His ill-fated affair with Heather had taken place at her establishment in a kind of fairy-tale atmosphere. Lying in his own bed, holding someone he cared so deeply about while they slept…

Gil smiled fully and closed his eyes.

* * * *

The next month or so proved to be healing for Gil in ways that he hadn't anticipated. He got his anger out in productive ways, for a change, by accompanying Nick to the gym at the campus and learning how to box. It seemed strange, given his age, but when Nick suggested it, it just felt like the right thing to do. And he couldn't deny that there was something extremely satisfying on a primitive level to pummel something that didn't fight back.

He returned to work only two days after he'd left it, knowing that if he didn't, he might never. It was surprisingly easy to get back into the swing of things. His return was greatly aided, of course, by the ease with which his staff accommodated his new disability. His immediate team had all learned sign language, though Sara and Warrick weren't as adept as Nick and Catherine. Greg, strangely, already knew how to sign and helped coach everyone else. The rest of CSI came equipped with small notebooks and PDAs to communicate, as well as speaking slowly and clearly to Grissom.

Commuting turned out to be a breeze, since Nick just never left Gil's condo. They rode everywhere together and at one point, Gil asked, "Don't you have plants to water?"

Nick had just grinned and shaken his head, signing back, "Nope. I've got a black thumb. I even managed to kill cacti, once upon a time."

Gil had snorted, amused, and they'd returned to grocery shopping.

Now he sat on the sofa, nominally watching television with Nick while he also went over some paperwork from the previous day's cases. Really, he was watching Nick, when his eyes weren't on the files on his lap. In all the time since he'd been diagnosed, Nick had been there for him, without any pressure or expectations. More so than Catherine and Jim, whom he'd always thought of as his best friends. Deborah and Catherine's voices ran through his head, words about how Nick felt for him.

Even if they hadn't talked to him about Nick, there was a plethora of evidence to confirm how the younger man felt. Gil could remember plenty of instances where Nick had practically hung on his every word, times when he'd sough Gil's approval beyond that which the job required. And, conversely, the hurt in the same eyes when Gil had spoken too sharply or been impatient.

A light touch to his shoulder pulled his attention back to the present and Gil glanced over at Nick, questioning.

"I'm heading to bed," Nick signed, smiling.

Gil nodded and waved him off, turning back to his paperwork. Once Nick left, he returned to his thoughts, only he turned them towards the future. Was it fair of him to keep Nick tied to him in this fashion without even the glimmer of hope that Gil might one day let them progress to the next level? He knew that Nick had told him not to worry about it, but that wasn't something Gil could just turn off.

Why don't you want to move it up to the next level? that irritating inner voice questioned. Why deprive the both of you something that you both want? What's the problem?

It all came down to self-worth and Gil had never had a big supply of that, no matter what face he put forth to the world. When it came to his chosen field, Gil knew he was among the best. In a professional setting, Gil could go toe-to-toe with anyone. Personally though…personally there were only a few failed relationships and all the might-have-beens that he'd never even given a chance. It was simply too hard to open himself up to someone who would have the power to hurt him.

The difference this time was that Gil knew his purported lover. He knew Nick, inside and out. He knew, in his bones, that the younger man would rather cut out his own heart than hurt Gil.

Something settled deep inside him when that thought surfaced, fully formed and ringing true. A new sort of tension rose to take its place, but this one he knew how to handle. This one had him smiling and rolling his neck to stretch out a little in anticipation of using his body in a way it hadn't been in far too long.

* * * *

Nick was just about asleep when Gil entered the room and started getting ready for bed. Clothes came off in the same neat fashion in which they were put on and then the regular bathroom noises, though the water seemed to run a lot longer than usual. Drifting on the verge of sleep, he simply sighed, contented, when Gil spooned up close behind him and slung an arm over his waist. Nick had always enjoyed being held, more than holding, and having it be Grissom to do the holding pretty much completed his world.

Gil's hand stroked slowly over his midriff, adding to his relaxation, even though it woke him up some. Smiling, Nick yawned and turned to burrow into the other man's embrace. Gil had seemed to enjoy holding him whenever they went to bed, so he had no compunction about getting as close as he possibly could.

The massage continued, up and down the length of Nick's back and he hummed happily, knowing that Gil could feel the vibrations.

There was a soft chuckle from somewhere above and a fondly murmured, "Hedonist," that was almost too soft to hear.

Nick chuckled and nodded agreement.

When Gil's hand slid further south than it ever had before, however, gripping his ass and kneading it, he froze in confusion. Gil nuzzled at his throat and nipped at his ear and he groaned in sudden need, his body more than ready to move on, despite the mental confusion. Steeling himself, Nick pulled back and met Gil's gaze in the near dark. The hallway light illuminated the other man's face and he cupped it with his hands as well, asking clearly, "What are you doing?"

Gil smiled faintly and answered, "I thought that it was obvious."

"Very funny," Nick retorted. "What are you doing?"

"I'm ready now," Gil told him simply.

He searched the pale eyes only inches away and saw only sincerity, mixed with love and passion. Pulling Gil in closer, Nick kissed him, soft and slow, and then moaned when Gil deepened it, his tongue entering Nick's mouth in a demanding way. He opened to the exploration, sliding his tongue alongside Gil's before pushing into his lover's mouth to do his own mapping. For a long time, that was all they did. Making out on the bed felt so good to Nick that he was almost afraid of upping the ante, as much as he wanted it.

But then Gil pushed him flat on his back and crawled over him, planting himself between Nick's legs as though he owned the space. Staring up at the heated blue gaze, Nick was pretty damn sure that was exactly the case. Panting lightly, Nick asked, "What do you want?"

For a long moment, Gil just stared down at him, unreadable, and then he smiled and answered, "You. Just like this."

Shivering violently with need at those words, Nick gasped and arched up, desperate for physical contact. Gil granted it, pressing down on him and seizing his mouth in a hard, hungry kiss. When hands tore at his boxers, Nick lifted up and wriggled out of them, returning the kiss with a fierceness of his own. Hooking a leg over Gil's hip, he pulled the other man in tight and gasped anew as Gil rocked against him. Nipping sharply at Nick's lower lip, Gil shifted his mouth to Nick's throat and sucked hard before biting there, as well.

Nick's fingers dug into Gil's shoulders, his body shuddering with sensation as his lover licked and kissed his way over and then down his chest. Gil paused to bite and suck almost tenderly at his navel. Nick's cock throbbed, hard and heavy between them, and he cried out at the continued stimulation. It was only moments later that the focus changed from belly button to cock and he moaned, hands clutching blankets and mattress as Gil went down on him with excruciating slowness.

He couldn't help but thrust into Gil's mouth, but did his best to keep the movements shallow and without force. Giving his lover whatever comfort level he needed was more important than his own gratification, even as his body demanded more. He moaned in disappointment when Gil pulled off, forcing himself to shift onto his elbows to look down and see if something was wrong. Pure lust sizzled through him when Gil licked the head of his cock and then his own lips, as though savoring the taste.

Pale eyes met his and Gil asked hoarsely, "Can I have you?"

"God yes," Nick agreed, nodding rapidly.

An almost wolfish grin spread over Gil's face. He moved with surprising dexterity out of bed, jogging to the bathroom and returning seconds later with massage oil. At Nick's quirked eyebrow, Gil snorted and told him, "Don't ask."

Nick grinned. "I won't. How do you want me?"

"As often as possible," Gil answered emphatically, the grin never wavering. "But right now, on your back, so I can see you? If, if you don't mind, of course?"

Lying back deliberately and hiking up his legs in invitation, Nick waited with his own smile.

Gil didn't waste any time. He poured some of the oil onto his fingers and rubbed it against Nick's cleft before pushing slowly into the hole. Nick moaned at the intrusion and wrapped his arms around his shins while Gil prepared him. It seemed, now that he had Nick at his mercy, that Gil wanted to play with him, drawing it out with each additional finger. By the time Gil parted Nick's legs and took up position, Nick was sweating profusely and shivering in constant arousal.

It hurt more than Nick expected and he hissed when Gil's shaft breeched him. Panting through it, he forced himself to breathe deeply, simultaneously glad that his lover waited for him to adjust and wanting to get it over with in a single thrust.

"Nick, Nick!"

Jolted from the haze, Nick looked up into Gil's eyes and found concern warring with need on his lover's face.

"What's wrong?"

Confession time, he thought, a laugh escaping. Releasing his death-grip on the mattress, Nick signed, "I haven't actually done this part yet. Pretty much everything except it."

Astonishment lit Gil's face, and then tenderness. Propped as he was on his hands, he couldn't sign, but he did ask, slowly and clearly, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Offering a weak smile, Nick answered, "Because I didn't think it mattered. I didn't think that this would happen."

"Oh, Nick," Gil sighed, shaking his head.

Nick reached out to cup his lover's face as he echoed Gil's earlier words, "I'm ready now."

There was a long moment when he thought that Gil was going to stop altogether and pull out. But then the cock inside him pushed forward, opening him up little by little. Nick saw stars of pain by the time Gil was fully sheathed in his body, but he rode it out, his hand tight on the other's shoulder. Biting his lip as Gil carefully moved back and forth, Nick closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing until the pain finally began to ebb.

Gil paused and his weight shifted, so Nick opened his eyes to see what was going on, but then felt more oil drizzled on where they were joined. That made things easier, though it still ached as his lover started moving again. He was thoroughly distracted, however, when Gil changed the angle of his careful thrusts and pure lightening skated through his body. His mouth opened to say something, but all that came out was a cry of pure pleasure as that spot was hit again, and then again.

Arching up, desperate for more, Nick gripped the headboard and wrapped both legs around the backs of Gil's thighs. He heard a grunt of surprise as his grip tightened, aiding his lover in deeper penetration. The pain hadn't just ebbed, it had changed into need for more friction, for the cock in him to go faster and own him with greater command. His cock was hard again, the blood pulsing through his shaft and tightening his balls in preparation for release.

It had been a long time since he'd had a lover, and he'd sure as hell never had one like this, and his body was definitely demanding its due.

* * * *

Positive that Nick didn't even know he was begging, Gil drank in every word formed by those precious lips. He heard them in his head, if not his ears, knew the need and felt the keening pleasure vibrating through his lover. He had a brief regret, never having heard what Nick sounded like while desperate and begging, but pushed it aside in favor of memorizing what he could enjoy…

Nick's body opening to his. The salt taste on his skin. How tight he held Gil's cock. Seeing ‘please,' and ‘more,' and ‘ohGod,' and best of all, ‘Gil, please…'

He wanted to make it last, to draw out Nick's first time so that all he came away with was pleasure, but he'd denied himself relief for far too long to manage it. Gritting his teeth against his body's need, he groaned, "Nicky, Nicky come for me, please!"

Nick's mouth opened, but formed no words, his neck muscles distending and wet warmth splattered against Gil's stomach almost immediately. That he had such an affect on his lover, along with the incredible tightness clamping down on his shaft, sent Gil into his own orgasm. He rutted desperately into Nick's now-limp body and came, spilling hard and deep into his lover's hole and then collapsing atop him, panting and wrecked.

The slowly steadying heartbeat soothed him in his silent world, thumping against his ear, which rested directly over Nick's heart. A strong arm draped over his back while Nick's other hand combed gently through Gil's hair. The contact was loving and perfect and Gil sighed deeply before drifting into a contented sleep.

* * * *

Stifling a smug grin as Nick again caught himself before sitting down, Gil offered his best, most innocent look when his lover turned an accusing glare in his direction.

Catherine walked into the breakroom and stopped short, looking between them before signing, "Am I interrupting something?"

Shifting so Gil could read both lips and sign, Nick answered her, "I'll tell you what you didn't interrupt, and what won't be interrupted again for a long time, if ever, and that's Grissom fu…"

As soon as the diatribe began, Gil practically jumped forward to stop it. He grabbed Nick's hand and clamped his free hand over Nick's mouth just in time. Looking at Catherine showed that she was enjoying the interaction immensely, if the big grin was anything to go by. He grimaced at her and released Nick to sign at her, "Did you need something?"

Still grinning, she typed into and tehn held up her PDA which said, "Heading out on a call and I was going to borrow Nick. If you two are busy, though, I can grab Warrick."

Gil glanced at Nick, whose eyes rolled in annoyance. Hopefully fond annoyance, but Gil wasn't entirely sure how fond Nick was of him just then. Of course, it wasn't as though he'd meant to fall asleep while still inside Nick for the rest of the night, but it had happened. There hadn't been any blood when he'd pulled free that morning, but the pain had been clearly etched on Nick's face for the first couple of hours after waking. Gil had been all for calling him in sick, but Nick had simply glared and shaken his head, and now he knew why.

Nick was a master at passive-aggressive.

But in a good way, he thought to himself, half-amused at his lover's actions so far that morning, and half-chagrined. Aloud, he replied, "Go ahead and take Nick. Keep me posted."

"I don't suppose I have a say in this," Nick signed, looking mutinous.

When Catherine opened her mouth to respond, blue eyes sparkling, something prompted Gil to raise a warning finger and order, "Whatever you're going to say, don't."

She laughed, and he did miss hearing the sound of it, before turning and leaving the room with a ‘let's go,' wave at Nick.

Nick walked over to him and squeezed Gil's hand before signing, "I'll text you if I'm going to be late."

Nodding, Gil stole a quick kiss before motioning for Nick to hurry on his way. He turned and stopped in surprise at finding Ecklie standing in the other doorway, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Before Gil could make an excuse, Conrad held up his hands and said clearly, "It's going to be difficult to turn a blind eye if the two of you kiss in the breakroom. Don't forget to send me those reports by the end of the day."

Gil nodded, relieved by the open-minded response to having been caught kissing Nick, and Ecklie left. He found himself taking a good look around the busy lab, seeing it as though for the first time. He'd built this lab, almost from the ground up, and it looked like he would be around for a long time to see its future. If it wasn't quite in the way he'd planned, well, there were compensations.

He did, after all, have Nick now. That made up for a lot.

Smiling to himself at the thought, Gil left the breakroom with his coffee and headed to the DNA lab to harass Greg about the Franklin case.