Title :: the time for sleep is now
Author :: kissingchaos9
Fandom :: CSI: Vegas
Rating :: R
Pairing :: Nick/Greg
A/N :: Born of listening to I Will Follow You Into Dark and What Sarah Said on repeat for hours and hours. When I was writing this, Sarah and I referred to it as "The Most Depressing Story Ever, Yet Uplifting in a Way," so consider that your angst warning. Also, character death. Also, maybe get some tissues. Beta by the amazing and wonderful beingothrwrldly, who loves me even when I make her cry.

***

The doctor says there isn’t anything left to do. He's been unconscious since they found him on the brink of death. They say the bullet did too much damage, that there's nothing they can do. There are machines breathing for him, keeping him alive for now. A steady parade of doctors has come and gone fairly consistently in the past few weeks, all with the same diagnosis: Nick is going to die.

Greg hasn't left the hospital in four weeks, except one quick trip to grab as many clothes as he could throw in a bag. He's taken an indefinite leave of absence from the lab, spending his days sitting in a chair next to Nick's bed. Nick's parents are there, too, sitting in the corner, Nick's mother sobbing quietly while Nick's father stares. They don't acknowledge Greg, and Greg doesn't acknowledge them. He thinks about offering to get them some coffee, or something to eat, but he's pretty sure they would rather pretend he isn't there, so he just sits quietly and tries to give them enough room to grieve.

Sara brings him books everyday, journals and manuals, cheesy romance novels and autobiographies. She sits with him for a while, filling him in on the mundane details of their cases. Grissom visits, too, every other night on his way to the lab, reading Nick's charts and swallowing heavily. He doesn't say much, which comforts Greg somehow. Every time he leaves he clasps Greg's shoulder and tries to smile, and every time Greg has to fight back tears. Catherine and Warrick come and go, Al and David and Mia. Even Hodges, all to pay their respects, but Greg never leaves.

It's not that he's waiting on Nick to wake up; it's just that when Nick dies, Greg wants to be there.

After thirty-one days (two million, six-hundred seventy-eight thousand, four hundred seconds, if you're counting, which Greg is trying not to), Nick's primary doctor comes in and sits down silently in the chair on the opposite side of the bed. He watches Nick for a moment, and then speaks without looking at Greg.

"Mr. Sanders, according to our records, Mr. Stokes designated you his agent to act on his behalf in the event that he was rendered incapable of making health care decisions for himself. At this point, we've done all we can for him. We don't believe that he's in any pain, but there is also no reason to believe that he will ever regain consciousness. Even if he did, the damage to his brain is very extensive, and the chances of him ever recovering are almost impossible. Which means—"

"I have to decide whether to leave him like this or let him go." Greg's voice is hoarse from hours of silence, and his eyes never leave Nick's face. From the corner of his eye he can see the doctor hang his head.

"Essentially, yes. This isn't a decision you have to make right now, but it—"

"What decision?"

Greg and the doctor turn towards the door, where Mr. and Mrs. Stokes are standing with cups of coffee. The doctor nods towards Greg and stands up.

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask Mr. Sanders. If you'll excuse me—"

"No." Mr. Stokes takes a step into the room. "What is going on here? He's our son, we have a right to know what's going on, damn it." Mrs. Stokes steps up behind him and rests her hand on his arm, and he turns his body slightly towards her. It seems to calm him, for the moment, and Greg smiles sadly as he recalls how many times he's done the same thing with Nick. He rubs his eyes until they hurt before looking towards Nick's parents.

“Nick isn't going to wake up. Dr. Vincent and I were discussing the options at this point."

"But, wait, I don't understand—" Nick's mother looks at Greg, frowning, and Nick's father looks at the doctor.

"What does that mean? What options?"

"Your son doesn't have a living will, but he did appoint Mr. Sanders as his legal agent in the event of anything like this happening. Therefore, Mr. Sanders is responsible for making the decision about Mr. Stokes's continued care. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other rounds to make." He glances at Greg, almost apologetically, and steps past the Nick's parents into the hallway.

"What does that mean?" Mrs. Stokes is still looking at him, eyes glistening, and Greg can't bear it. He looks back at Nick, reaching up to ghost his fingers along Nick's cheek.

"It means I have to decide whether to leave him like this, or let him go," Greg repeats, and it's a little easier to say it this time.

"But why—"

"Because we loved each other." It comes out harsher than he intended, and he takes a breath to calm himself. He turns to face them. "After the lab explosion, we started talking about what would happen if one of us were seriously injured, and we contacted a lawyer and had the necessary paperwork done. We were going to get living will, as well, but..." Greg stops, swallowing around the lump in his throat. 'We thought we had time." He smirks bitterly.

"The explosion was...two years ago?" When Greg nods, Nick's mother covers her mouth with her hand. "I...I had no idea. Two years?"

"Three, actually." Greg looks down at Nick's hand in his. "Three years, two months, fifteen days," he whispers. Not long enough. Not nearly long enough.

"I had no idea. Why didn't he tell us?" Mrs. Stokes is crying now, and Greg has to look away again. "He—"

"I can’t do this." Mr. Stokes stands suddenly and stalks out of the room. Greg looks at Mrs. Stokes, who is wiping her nose with a handkerchief. It makes him smile for some reason.

"I'm pretty sure that's why." Greg wipes a tear from the end of his nose. He didn't even realize he was crying. At first, he wanted to scream at them, to tell them how much their rejection had broken Nick's heart, how difficult it was to spend every holiday with Greg's family and never with them. He had always been so angry with them, for what he felt they did to his Nicky, but now he's just so tired and hollow, he doesn't have the will to say anything.

Mrs. Stokes stands and moves to the chair at Nick's side. She takes his hand, touching his fingers reverently, and suddenly Greg remembers that she's his mother. She nursed him, changed his clothes and bandaged his knees, and watching her kiss the palm of his hand is almost more than Greg can take. He chokes back a sob and steels his jaw. "He just didn't want to lose you."

Nick's mother looks at Greg. "We love him, Greg. He's my baby." It's the first time Greg has ever heard her say his name. "I would never have..." She frowns and looks down. "I did, though, didn't I? I just...Bill was so angry, and Nick had already made up his mind to move out here, and..." She takes an unsteady breath.

"He loved you, too." He stops, noticing his tense. He looks at Nick's face, still covered in tiny red bumps. He knows, now, what he has to do. "Mrs. Stokes—"

"Gillian." Greg looks up, and she offers him a small smile. Greg nods.

"I—he's so—"

"He's not here anymore." Greg can't speak, only nod, and Gillian nods back. "I know. I just... I just keep hoping. I just want to tell him how sorry I am, how much I love him. I..." She's crying too hard to speak now, and Greg stands up for the first time in hours. His knee cracks as he walks to her side of the bed, kneeling beside her.

"He knew that. He never once doubted that, I can promise you." There's some truth in that, he thinks, and a little bit of a lie, but she moves her hand to cover his and smiles at him.

"He was my baby."

Greg nods, a sob caught in his throat. Gillian reaches up and cups his cheek. "He must've loved you very much, Greg. He always seemed so happy when we spoke. I'm just sorry... I'm just sorry." She reaches up and brushes away a tear with her thumb. "It's time, though, to let him go. You're right."

"What about Mr. Stokes?"

"I'll talk to him. He knows, in his heart. He just...he has a hard time letting go."

"Seems to be a hereditary trait."

Gillian looks at her son, then back at Greg. "When...?"

"I'm going to call everyone to the hospital, let them say goodbye. But as soon as possible, I think. I don't want to wait."

Gillian nods, sniffling. "Are you... did he want a burial, or...?" There's a hint of dread in her voice, and Greg wonders if she's feeling what he is.

"We never talked about it, but I can't..." Greg takes a breath. "I can’t let them put him into another box under the ground." Gillian nods, once, and walks out of the room. It's impossibly quiet, now, and Greg climbs into her empty chair, laying his head on Nick's hand.


...




Sara, Grissom, Warrick and Catherine come together. Grissom stands behind Sara with his hand on her shoulder, Warrick with his arm around Catherine's shoulders. Greg stands in the corner, giving them as much privacy as he can afford. Sara leans down and whispers something in Nick's ear, brushing her tear from his forehead. Grissom stands stoically, and Greg wonders how far he'll get from the hospital before he allows himself to process what's happening. Catherine leans down and kisses Nick's forehead, running a hand through his hair. Warrick takes his hand and makes a fist, knocking their knuckles together.

Catherine can't contain her sobbing any longer, and Warrick leads her from the room, making, eye contact with Greg for a second before stepping out the door. Sara walks over and hugs Greg, holding him so tightly that he can’t catch his breath, and Grissom clasps his shoulder one last time.

Nick's parents walk into the room slowly, Gillian leaning against Mr. Stokes. Greg leaves them alone, standing against the wall beside the door. He slides down slowly, resting his head on his knees. He has no idea how much time passes until the door opens, but when he looks up Mr. Stokes is leaving the room, eyes rimmed in red. He walks past Greg without a word, and Gillian follows behind him.

"Greg."

Greg stands, and she hugs him, resting her head on his chest. "They're going to take out the respirator now. They said five minutes, at the most." She stands back slightly, holding his hands. "You go on, sweetie. He would want to be alone with you, I think."

Greg swallows thickly and nods. Gillian walks towards Mr. Stokes, and as Greg closes the door to the room he can hear her sobbing.

He walks to the side of the bed and sits. The doctor looks at him, and Greg wonders how anyone could muster the strength to do this every day.

"It won’t be long."

"I know."

They remove the tube from Nick's throat, wiping his mouth with a damp rag. The doctor collects his things and leaves the room silently, and suddenly Greg is alone for the first time in weeks. He sits on the edge of the bed and takes Nick's hand in his.

"Hey, Nicky." His voice is raspy with tears, and he clears it. The bandages around Nick's chin frame his face perfectly, Greg thinks, and he's morbidly beautiful. Greg touches his forehead, his eyelids, and he cant seem to stop crying. He traces his fingertip along Nick's lips.

"I don't really know how to do this. I just... God, I love you so much. I'm sorry we couldn't find you in time. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, couldn’t stop this, but I hope that I can let you go, now, and you can be safe and at peace. It's all I have left to give you, Nick." Greg leans forward and presses a chaste kiss against Nick's lips. His tears fall against Nick's cheeks and he thinks, at least Nick won’t ever cry again. At least he won't ever cry.

The machine beeps once, and the monitor flatlines, and that's it. Nick is gone.


...




The service is simple. All of Nick's family, all their friends and coworkers. Even Ecklie, who places his hand on the table where the urn sits and mouths something Greg can't quite make out.

Gillian sits beside him the entire time, holding onto his hand. He introduces her to his parents, and after the service she makes him promise three times to come for Thanksgiving. He hugs her tightly, almost afraid to let go, but he does eventually. She waves as the car drives away, and he promises Nick that he'll go to Texas in November.

He drives Nick's truck to Lake Mead and pours Nick’s ashes into the wind. He thought about taking them to the desert, letting them out in the widest space he could find, but then he thought about all the nights they spent here under the stars, identifying constellations, and he knew it's where he should be. He caps the urn and whispers good-bye, watching the ripples of the lake carry on infinitely.

***

Next story in series - Thanksgiving.