Title: Sleep
By: Caster
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
A/N: I hate how people call their writing crap when they know it's good. But this? This is crap. I don't know what I'm trying to say with it. I don't understand the direction. I just wrote it and now I'm staring at the screen, trying to figure out what it means. (Is it deep? Meaningful? The result of a long day?)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine. I'm just a groupie!
Summary: David Hodges can't sleep now.

***

David Hodges hates hospitals. He hates the smells, the white walls, the impersonal feel. He hates when children with no hair cry in the halls and when doctors emerge from the ER, their pace slow, shaking their head and counting another body to be sent to the morgue.

But he mainly hates it because Nick is here an awful lot.

Nick is lying on the bed, eyes closed and breathing steady. The familiar beep of some sort of machine makes a pulse in the background and David stands there awkwardly, Nick unaware of his presence and David wanting to keep it that way.

The first week, everyone was here whenever they could be. Nick's groggy conscious was never alone; Grissom being pensive, Catherine mothering, Warrick guilt tripping, Greg being the perfect boyfriend that he was. David feels better knowing that Greg is almost always there by Nick's side, because Greg makes Nick happy.

And now Nick was sedated again, under the influence of medication and sleep.

"You scared the hell out of me, Stokes."

When Nick wakes, he'll be as high as a kite. He won't even remember his own name, much less recognize David's voice.

David watches him. So many scars and ghosts.

"You had the entire lab on their toes. You aren't going to another scene alone even if I have to go with you myself."

The ants; he hates them as well. Small and lethal. Death.

"Warrick nearly had a heart attack when you blew out the light."

Green glow sticks. Black handgun. Pink bubblegum.

"And Christ, no one can sleep now."

Plexiglass coffin. Dirt. So much of it.

"We keep thinking of the possibilities. They keep us awake."

Explosives. Dust. Video feed.

David Hodges has a feeling that Nick can't sleep when it's too dark or the room is too small or there's a hint of a green glow. Truth be told, David can't sleep either. On days like those, they're probably both awake and miles apart, their bodies screaming for rest and their minds not granting the wish.

You can only watch.

He has nightmares. In them, they never find Nick. And on those days, he wants to quit this life and move away, forgetting everything. He knows he can't.

And he collapses onto a chair and leans against the bed, resting his head in the crook of his right arm. Two inches from him, Nick continues to breathe. David's exhausted. He swears his voice doesn't crack and that his eyes don't blur when he speaks.

"I can't sleep because of you."

Flowers and cards spruce up the sterile room.