Title: The Sound of A Gun
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Ryan Wolfe
Fandom: CSI: Vegas/CSI: Miami
Rating: PG-13
Table: 5_prompts, Month of November challenge
Prompt: Day 6 - There were gun shots fired
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders or Ryan Wolfe, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Ryan raised his head, frowning as he looked around. There didn't seem to be anyone other than himself and Greg at the crime scene, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was out there somewhere, watching the two of them, waiting to cause mayhem.

There wasn't anyone around, not that he could see. They were outside, gathering evidence from the front porch of the house where someone had been killed, methodically processing the windows for fingerprints. He couldn't see anyone in the immediate vicinity.

Standing up slowly, he looked around again, raising a hand to shade his eyes from the early-morning sun. No, there was no one around; even the neighbors had already dispersed, going to work or going about their days hidden in their own houses.

Ryan didn't blame them; if he lived near the scene of a violent crime, he would want to stay inside his own home, too. And then he would want to move away, to find another place to live that hadn't been touched by that kind of violence.

As he turned to head to the Denali, he saw a man step out from behind a van parked across the street, a man clad all in black. It only took him seconds to realize who it was -- and that recognition froze his heart in his chest. It was his nemesis from Miami.

Before Ryan could cry out a warning, the man raised the gun he carried, pointing it not at him, but at Greg. The first shot rang out; Ryan could do nothing but watch helplessly, feeling as though he was frozen to the spot, unable to move a muscle. He was paralyzed, immobile.

Another shot rang out -- and another. He could see Greg's body twist under the impact of the bullets, each one of them finding their mark in his lover's body. It almost looked as though he was doing some kind of bizarre ballet across the front lawn of the house.

"No!" Ryan had finally found his voice; he was screaming at the top of his lungs, only one word coming out of his mouth. "No. No! No!" He could hear his own screams as if they came from far away; he didn't even realize that it was himself making such a noise.

"Ryan! Ryan! Ry, wake up!" Greg's voice, pulling him back into another world, away from the one he'd been inhabiting. How could Greg be calling out to him if he was ....? For just a moment, Ryan's bewildered mind reeled, confusion swamping him.

Then his eyes snapped open, consciousness returning to him in the space of a second. The lawn of that house faded away; there was no gunman, no bullets; he wasn't seeing his lover gunned down in cold blood right in front of his eyes.

He was here in bed with Greg, the remnants of one of the worst nightmares he'd ever had just beginning to fade away. Greg was holding him, shaking him, calling his name. He must have been screaming, or at least making enough noise for his boyfriend to wake up.

"Ry, it's okay," Greg murmured, wrapping his arms around Ryan and pulling him close. "It was just a bad dream. It's okay, I'm here. You're safe." He raised a hand to stroke Ryan's face, pressing his lips against his lover's cheek. "I'm here, Ryan. I'm here. It's okay."

Ryan leaned against Greg, making no attempt to hold back the tears that were starting to streak down his face. He still couldn't erase the memory of that dream, of seeing those bullets rip into Greg's body. He didn't think he would be able to rid himself of that horrific image.

He wrapped his arms around Greg, moving his hands over the other man's body, desperately trying to prove to himself that Greg was all right, that it had just been a horrible dream and not some vestige of a horrifying reality that he didn't want to face.

Greg's arms tightened around him, then his boyfriend was lying him down against the pillows and leaning over him, a concerned expression on his face. One hand stroked Ryan's cheek, his other arm still holding Ryan close to him, as though reluctant to let him go.

"What was it, Ryan?" he whispered, his voice soft and gentle. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me. I know it had to be something pretty awful. You were screaming in your sleep. Screaming and crying. Was it that guy coming after you again?"

Ryan hesitated for just a moment before shaking his head, trying to marshal his thoughts into some kind of coherent speech to tell Greg the gist of the dream. The images were starting to fade, but the horror of what he had seen in his nightmare was still with him.

"He wasn't coming after me," he managed to say, his voice rough and hoarse from his screaming. "He was coming after you. He shot you, Greg. So many times. There were gunshots, and all of the bullets hit you .... and I-I c-couldn't stop them ...."

As much as he tried to hold the tears back, he couldn't. They were streaming down his cheeks again, his words lost in the sobs that he couldn't stop. Greg's arms were around him again, Greg's hands stroking down his back, his lover's voice soft in his ear.

"Shhh, Ry .... It's okay, baby, I'm here. I wasn't shot. I'm here with you, and I'm okay," he whispered, his arms tightening around Ryan's waist. "I'll always be here, Ryan. I'm not going to leave, and nobody's going to kill me. You've got to believe that."

Ryan nodded, still holding on to Greg, not wanting to let him go. "I think it might take me a long time to get over that one," he whispered, resting his forehead against Greg's bare shoulder, "I've had some pretty bad dreams before, but none that were that frightening."

"Once we catch that guy and make sure that he's behind bars, then the dreams will stop," Greg told him, stroking his hair and holding him close. "At least, I hope they will. You won't have anything to be scared of after he's off the streets."

"I hope you're right, Greg," Ryan sighed, lifting his head to gaze into his boyfriend's face. "I want these bad dreams to stop. I want us both to be able to sleep. I hate waking you up because of my nightmares." He closed his eyes, feeling more tired than he had been when they'd gone to bed.

Silently, Greg lay back down beside him, keeping his arms around Ryan's waist. Ryan kept his eyes closed, but he was sure that he wasn't going to sleep again tonight. He only hoped that one day, he would be able to -- and that the sound of a gun wouldn't haunt his slumber.

***