Title :: Thanksgiving
Author :: kissingchaos9
Fandom :: CSI: Vegas
Rating :: G
Pairing :: Nick/Greg
Claim and Prompt: Breakfast - 003. Angst
Warnings: Mention of character death.
Notes: This is a continuation of the time for sleep is now, but you don't necessarily have to read one to understand the other. It might help, though.
Summary: Greg spends Thanksgiving with Nick's family in Texas.

***

Every morning since That Day, Greg wakes up slowly, reaching across the bed for someone who isn't there.

Every morning, before he's ever really awake, Greg hopes that maybe, just this once, Nick will be there, sleeping, snoring softly.

Every morning, Greg wakes up more disappointed than anything.

Thanksgiving morning is no different, except this time Greg isn't exactly sure where he is, or where the other half of his bed has gone. He opens his eyes, blinking a few times, and recognizes a picture of Nick's grandmother on his coffee table.

Only, not his coffee table. He sits up slowly, pulling the blankets around his shoulders, and remembers that he's in Texas. At Nick's parents house. On the couch in the den, because the only other available room was the guest room, which is actually Nick's old room, and Greg couldn't get the image of a teenage Nick out of his mind. Or the image of what their teenage son could've been like, if they'd had the chance to be a family, and he wonders if he'll ever wake up and not want to cry, or scream, or punch something. If he'll ever wake up whole again.

He rubs his eyes and looks around. The house is a lot like he imagined it would be. Homemade quilts on every chair, pictures of kids running around in parks on the wall. It's cozy, almost, and he understands what it was about Texas that Nick missed so much.

He needs coffee, badly. He reaches down and pulls the package from his overnight bag. He checks his cell phone—two missed calls from his mother, and one from Sara—and winces a little when he sees that it's only 6:00. He pulls his sweatshirt over his head and clutches his coffee, padding down the hall to where he thinks the kitchen must be.

There's light spilling into the hallway, and when he rounds the corner he sees Gillian standing at the counter, her back to him. She's sniffling, slightly, and Greg silently hopes that she's not crying, because he's only been awake a few minutes, and he really needs coffee.

He hesitates in the doorway, and when she turns around and looks at him, her eyes are rimmed in red and Greg's heart sinks.

"Oh, good morning, Greg. I didn't think anyone else was awake."

Greg holds out the coffee as explanation, and Gillian gestures to the coffee maker sitting next to her. He walks cautiously, trying to decide whether to say something or just ignore her tears, but when he gets to the counter he sees the rather large pile of chopped onions on the cutting board in front her and smiles.

"Best to do this part before everyone else wakes up." She smiles at him and it reminds him of his grandmother, what little bit he remembers of her before she died. She scoops the onions into a bowl and covers them with plastic while Greg makes coffee. She washes her hands carefully, rubbing her hands on the inside of the stainless steel sink. It reminds Greg of when Nick used to make lasagna, how Greg would roll his eyes about old wives tales and Nick would just smile and say he didn't mind being an old wife sometimes. It makes his eyes sting, and he tries to pretend that it's just the onions and not the memories.

The first whiff of coffee makes him feel better, and he pushes aside those nagging thoughts of addiction as he searches the cabinets for mugs. He pours coffee for himself and Gillian, and she takes hers gratefully.

"Did you sleep well?"

Greg nods, not yet trusting his voice, and she reaches up and pushes a piece of hair out of his face. "That's a pretty nice couch. We've had it forever. If you need more blankets or pillows, just let me know."

Greg shakes his head. "No, no, it was fine. Thank you."

Gillian studies him closely, almost uncomfortably, and then rests her hand on his wrist. "I want to show you something, if you'll let me." Greg just nods, and Gillian leads him down the hall into the guest room.

The sun has just started rising, and the blue light seeps into the room through the sides of the blinds. When Gillian turns the light on it's almost too bright, and Greg squints. She guides him to the bed and he sits down as she walks to the bookshelf and pulls out a worn scrapbook marked "one." She sits down beside him and opens to the first page.

Nicholas Stokes

Born August 18, 1971 to loving parents William and Gillian Stokes



Underneath that, in small feminine script is written Died June 23, 2005. Greg touches the words reverently as a tear slides down his nose.

Gillian turns the pages slowly. There are pictures from when Nick was in the nursery, those tiny one that hospitals always take and parents always hand out to anyone and everyone. There are pictures of a much younger Gillian, looking entirely too perfect to have just had a child, holding Nick in the hospital.

"He was the happiest baby I've ever seen, and I've seen my fair share." Gillian smiles as she touches one of the pictures. "He never cried unless he needed something. He was perfectly content to just sit and watch everyone." She turns a few more pages, and there are more pictures. Nick's first smile, his first steps, his first spoonful of something that looks really disgusting. A tiny lock of his hair, the bracelets from the hospital, what seems like millions of congratulations cards. At the end of the book, there are pictures from his first birthday party, Nick covered head to toe in cake and icing. Greg laughs, because he can see Nick's smile so clearly, and it amazes him how perfect Nick always was.

Gillian closes the book and hugs it to her chest. "There are more," she whispers, gesturing to the bookshelf. "One for each year until he turned 18. You should look at them." Greg nods, swallowing past the lump in his throat, and he reaches down for his coffee, cold now but he takes a sip anyway. Gillian smiles at him warmly, and she looks so much like Nick in that moment that Greg has to look away. She stands up and returns the book to the shelf. She stands in front of him, taking his hand again.

"Everyone will be waking up soon. Come on, you can help me make breakfast." Greg stands and follows her out of the room, flipping the light switch as he passes.

***