Title: Whispers On The Wind
By: Star Kindler
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Warnings: Violence and rape.
Summary: A shocking revelation at a crime scene leads Gil and Nick down a path they never thought they'd pursue.

Prologue

Greg raised his glass in a toast and yelled over the loud, pulsating music, "To Marcus, who finally made it out of the hell that was Harvard Law after making a gutsy decision to change careers and go back to school at his advanced age. May he use his power and knowledge as a lawyer to keep all of our asses out of serious trouble." Laughter and shouts of agreement erupted around Greg as they knocked back their beers.

"Shit, Sanders, who needs a lawyer when we have you to fix all the crime scenes and lab results?" Greg's friend Brian shouted into his ear.

"Nope. I wouldn't risk the wrath of Grissom, not even for you, Brian!" Greg said with a grin. "Besides, I've saved your ass more than once in the past."

Brian drained what was left in his glass and jerked his head toward the dance floor. "C'mon, Greg. We haven't danced in ages."

Greg let loose a put-upon sigh as he allowed Brian to lead him towards dance floor. He turned and motioned for the others at their table to follow them. They wove their way onto the crowded dance floor, moving and swaying to the beat.

It had been so long since he'd seen his friends, and these six were his closest from his days at Stanford. Greg had thought that once they'd graduated and went their separate ways they'd lose touch, but it hadn't happened. Inviting them to come to Vegas to celebrate Marcus' graduation and admittance into one of the most prestigious law firms in San Francisco wasn't something Greg was going to regret, even if he did have his house overrun by four guys and two girls who still acted like teenagers when they were together.

Greg and his friends stayed on the dance floor for almost an hour, then the others headed back to a table. Brian and Greg danced for another fifteen minutes or so, before they'd had enough. Usually Greg could stay out on the floor for another hour, but he really wanted to spend some time with Marcus and Diane, who were leaving early the next morning.

"I'm gonna get some water," Greg shouted into Brian's ear. "You want some?" Brian nodded and pointed to their table. Greg gave Brian an understanding nod and made his way to the bar.

"Can I get six bottles of water?" he shouted at the bartender, handing him a twenty. As he waited for the guy to come back, he stared at the people around the room. He could feel the frown plastered all over his face right now, but he couldn't seem to lose it. All night he'd had the oddest feeling he was being watched, but by whom, he couldn't tell. He'd felt it the moment he came in, when he sat down, and even while he was dancing.

Part of him felt ridiculous, because he was in a building swarming with people and he knew that guys and girls had checked him out before, but this was different. He couldn't explain it; hell, he wouldn't explain it to anyone else, because he just knew that if he told someone like Brian or Marcus, they'd tell him he was nuts. Someone like Nick or Grissom might understand, but there was no way in hell he was bringing up anything around his boss that would bring his sexual preference to the forefront. Maybe Brian or Marcus would be all right, if he asked. Maybe he was nuts. He really didn't know.

"Can I buy you a drink?" a male voice said into his right ear. Greg nearly jumped a foot in the air as he jerked his head to the right. He came face to face with a rather attractive blond with brown eyes and perfectly white, straight teeth revealed by a very nice smile. He was tall and thin, but not too thin, which was a definite plus in Greg's book, even if he wasn't looking for someone right now. Greg thought the guy might be around Grissom's age.

The man let out a not unpleasant sounding laugh at Greg's startled expression. "I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you. I merely wished to buy you a drink."

Greg smiled at the man. "Thanks, but no. I'm here with friends and I need to get back to them. I'm practically dehydrated anyway, and I have to keep a clear head for work tomorrow night. Wouldn't do for me to show up with a hangover." Greg winced inwardly as he listened to himself. Why did he always turn into a chatterbox every time a good-looking guy spoke with him?

"You work at night? Interesting. I don't think I could ever get used to working during the night. I have never managed to sleep during the days. You must truly enjoy your job to work such hours. If I might be so bold as to ask what your profession is?"

Greg shrugged and smiled. It's not like his profession was a secret. "Not at all. I'm a criminalist for the Las Vegas Police Department. You can see why it wouldn't be wise to show up being less than my very best."

"I suppose not. I have not introduced myself, how rude of me. My name is Timothy. And you are?"

Greg held out his hand and shook Timothy's. "Greg." Greg turned as the bartender finally made it back with his water. "My friends are waiting for me. It was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll see you again," he said as he juggled the bottles.

Timothy gave him a warm smile and a wink. "Perhaps you will at that. Good day, Greg."

When he got back to the table, he was greeted with catcalls and wolf howls. "What?" he asked, his face heating under their scrutiny.

Chastity wagged her finger in his face and grinned. "We saw that gorgeous guy talking to you at the bar."

"Yeah, what is it with you and older guys?" Trent asked. Greg could hear the slight bitterness in Trent's tone, which made him feel a little guilty, but Greg couldn't make himself feel something that wasn't there. Having Trent here made Greg appreciate the position Grissom was in every time he had to deal with Sara's seemingly undying affection.

"Come on, guys," he said. "I work at least twelve to sixteen hours a day. I don't have time to breathe, let alone have any kind of relationship. Maybe if I'd met him when I was still a tech, but now… It's not the right time."

"Awww, poor Greggy," Chastity and Diane cooed in stereo.

"Oh, shut up," Greg shot back. That uncomfortable feeling was back, but a quick check of the room brought about nothing. "Come on, let's get out of here. I know this great Italian restaurant not too far from here. It's just like the one that was around the corner from campus."

"Good, 'cause I'm starving," Marcus said. They finished gulping down their waters and left. Greg put everything but his friends out of his mind, determined to enjoy the rare time when there wasn't anything else he had to worry about.

Chapter One

Gil closed the file sitting in front of him and pushed it to the side. "Finished, finally." Placing his elbows on the table and rubbing his temples with his index and middle fingers, he forced himself to relax. God, he hated rape cases, but when the victim was a child…

Gil's body shuddered almost violently. "At least it's over," he said to himself, even though the fact was of no real comfort to him. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and attempted to get hold of himself. They'd caught the bastard, and their case against him was solid; his team had made certain of that. Now, Gil just had to resist the urge to go down to lockup and strangle the monster that would rape a seven-year-old boy.

Whether the sun shone brightly on the town, giving it the appearance of familial innocence, or the pitch of night hid the dark recesses of the human psyche and the vicious underbelly of purportedly civilized society, Gil knew all the frustration and helplessness he sometimes felt, especially pertaining to a case like this, was worth the nausea and sleepless days just to put scum like Adrien Carson behind bars where he belonged. Gil lived for the days when his efforts helped make his corner of the world just a little safer, especially for the innocents who had no way of defending themselves from the brutality that sometimes defined the human race.

A knock on the door startled him from his stormy musings, bringing him back to reality, where he couldn't really strangle the perp and had to focus on several other cases currently being handled by his people. "Come in," he called out, trying to shake the heavy thoughts away and focus on what had to be done.

The door opened and Sophia poked her head around the corner. "Grissom, can I speak with you for a moment, if you're not too busy?"

"Hey, Sophia. I just finished the paperwork for Alex's case. Adrien Carson will be going away for a very long time."

Sophia grimaced. Even though she hadn't been assigned to the case, Gil knew she'd kept an unobtrusive eye on it, wanting to see the perpetrator caught and given the punishment he deserved. "Yes, life without parole, but that won't last. They're going to love him upstate. You know how well child rapists are accepted in prison."

"Funny, I can't bring myself to care. I could, however, use a distraction." Gil sat forward and rested his forearms on the desk, clasping his hands together. "You have my complete and undivided attention. Mesmerize me."

Sophia smiled at him with genuine fondness. She really was pretty when she smiled. It was too bad she wasn't his type. "I don't know if what I have to say is mesmerizing, but it probably will succeed in distracting you. I've decided to leave Las Vegas."

Gil sat back in his chair and stared at her. He was surprised, and yet, not. After a moment's silence, he said, "I expected you would eventually, considering Conrad's treatment of you, but your leaving so soon is a little shocking. You've only been on my team for nine months."

"I know, and I wasn't expecting to leave so soon either, but there's a supervisor position in the L.A.P.D.'s crime unit that's open, and they offered me the job. They don't have a crime scene tech qualified enough for the position. It's the graveyard shift, but it means more money and a chance to lead, and-"

"You'd be crazy to pass it up," Gil finished for her. "Believe me, I understand completely. You never should have been demoted in the first place. When will you be leaving?"

"I'll be giving Ecklie my two-week notice at the end of my shift today. I'll start there in three weeks."

"Have you found a place to stay yet?"

"I've been looking online. I'm going to LA on Friday, since I have two days off. I should be able to find an apartment that will work until I find someplace better."

Gil sighed and stood up. He was happy for her, because she really deserved the job, but he hated that their department was going to lose a great C.S.I. Ecklie was a first class twit and an all-around idiot. "We'll miss you around here, but you've got to do what's best for you. I wish you all the best." Imagining Ecklie's reaction, Gil chuckled and shook his head. "I'd really love to see the look on Conrad's face when you give him your notice."

Sophia's laughter filled the room. "I'll be sure to take a picture."

"You do that. For now, it's time to hand out assignments, because if I know Sara, she's about ready to pound down my door. And Catherine's always said I was bad with the overtime." That last sentence was muttered, meant more for himself than for Sophia, but her smirk told him she agreed, though whether she agreed about his or Sara's overworking, he didn't know. Opting for the ignorance is bliss defense, he continued on, "We've already got a couple of cases that have come in. Come on, it's time for me to make an appearance."

Gil opened the door with a sweeping bow and held it, letting Sophia pass through before following and heading down to the break room in comfortable silence. "You are a good CSI, you know," he said before they reached the break-room door. "Los Angeles is lucky to have you."

Sophia gave him a soft smile. "Thank you. Now, enough with this maudlin behavior; we have assignments, I believe you said, and I'm not leaving tomorrow."

"You're right, as usual. I bow to your superior intellect." Opening the door, Gil walked inside and found Greg and Sara waiting for him. As he suspected, Sara looked ready to pounce. "Just the people I wanted to see. Greg, you're with me. We've got a dead body at Caesar's, possible jumper."

Taking the proffered assignment sheet, Greg mused, "I wonder how much he lost today."

"I guess we'll find out. Sara, I'm giving you the 401, hit and run out on Strong Drive."

"Any fatalities?" Sara looked up expectantly as Gil handed over the sheet.

"Unfortunately. Name's Annie Baxter, age 54. Apparently, she'd been across the street playing bridge with some friends and picked the wrong time to go home."

Greg winced. "Killed on the street in front of your own house. That sucks."

Making an assenting noise, Gil turned to Sophia. "Sophia, we've got a missing thirteen-month-old girl. An Amber Alert has been sent out across Nevada and the surrounding states, and the P.D. is on it. I need you to go to the house and find whatever you can."

"You've got it, Grissom. Are we thinking family member?"

"I honestly don't know. The father died three months ago. Frances, the missing girl's mother, lives with her mother. Frances was at work at the time of the abduction. The grandmother put Deidre, the baby, down for bed at seven o'clock. She fell asleep with the baby monitor on, and when she went to check on her at nine, Deirdre was gone. They say they don't have any other family in the immediate area. They are rich, however."

"Ah, and you're thinking that there's going to be a ransom demand," Sophia hypothesized.

"It's looking good for it. FBI is involved, but they want us to handle evidence collection. Apparently some idiot thought it'd be fun to burn down the building of his former employer, and it ended up spreading and burning down half the Feds' Vegas building. Their lab and most of their equipment ended up destroyed or damaged. Brass is already there, but if you need any help, call in Hendley from the day shift. She's been looking for as much overtime as possible since her mother's been sick."

"Will do. Whatever is there, I'll find it," Sophia promised. She walked out the door, followed by Greg, but before Gil could follow, Sara stopped him.

"Gris, can we talk for a minute?"

This familiar tone in Sara's voice was the last thing he needed to hear at the moment. The urge to roll his eyes was strong, but his patience prevailed. Turning to face her, he plastered on the expression of someone who was interested and not in the least dreading talking to her. "What can I do for you?" Maybe if he feigned innocence, she'd drop it.

"I think you know what I want to discuss, but this isn't really the place to do it. I was wondering if we could have coffee after the shift is over." Heaven help him, it was going to be one of those nights where luck just wasn't on his side.

He knew what she wanted. She wanted to discuss the same thing she always did when she got that particular gleam in her eyes, which seemed to be happening more often these days. Gil also knew that she was only going to take "not right now" or long, drawn out silences followed by an abrupt change of subject as an answer for only so long. Perhaps it was time to try a different tactic, a more direct approach. "We've said everything that needs to be said, Sara."

Sara's expression said otherwise. "No, we haven't, not by a long shot. So, will you have coffee with me?"

Gil sighed, knowing her well enough to realize she wasn't going to just let this go this time without some kind of absolute conclusion, so he decided it would be best to just get this over with and worry about damage control later. "Fine, whatever you want. I'll meet you in the break room when I'm finished, then we'll go. Right now, I believe we have work to do."

He walked away quickly, not waiting for an answer, and caught up with Greg at the front door. "Let's get moving."

"Wanna talk about it?" Greg asked after they got into Gil's SUV.

"Not particularly."

"Okay, then. Off to the Palace, Hoke!"

The superior, flourishing wave of the hand he saw in his peripheral vision made Gil smile. He really did like working with Greg, and while he missed his expertise in the DNA lab, Gil was glad Greg had decided to come into the field. At the very least, he provided a great deal of entertainment on long, boring rides. "Yes, Miss Daisy."

Every time Gil glanced up at the clock, time seemed to speed up tenfold, bringing him closer to a conversation he desperately didn't want to have. Life really hated him sometimes.

As he put away the last of his paperwork, Gil tried to think of all the ways the upcoming conversation could and probably would go wrong. He honestly liked Sara, and that was a big part of the problem. She was an intelligent, wonderful person, and at one time, he'd found himself genuinely attracted to her. They were good friends, and he liked that. It made it comfortable to be himself around her, and that was also a problem. He'd never been the greatest at relationships, since most people found his personality and his dedication to his work a bit much to handle. Catherine called him deficient. Some called him gruesome. Others called him a science geek or just plain weird. Sara accepted whatever he threw at her and moved on with barely a flinch.

Gil put his head in his hands and groaned. He knew exactly where he'd gone wrong, where any attraction to Sara had become null and void. It had been right around the time that a sexy Texas drawl and the man attached to it had walked onto his shift and bludgeoned him upside the head with a croquet mallet. After that, when she'd come to Las Vegas at his invitation, there was nothing left but friendship.

Nick walked in, and the rest of the world checked out as far as Gil was concerned, and it seemed it was a permanent condition. All of Gil's attempts at dating after Nick Stokes walked into his life had ended abysmally, probably because he spent the entire time, whenever he wasn't whisked away by work, making a point of not thinking about a certain Texan and imagining what his ass looked like in tight jeans. The few times he'd seen Nick in jeans had exceeded his expectations, making him doubly glad that Nick didn't wear them to work too often.

Oh, he knew nothing would ever come of his infatuation-threats of death wouldn't make him admit his feelings as being more than that-with Nick, especially not now, considering they didn't see each other or work together nearly as much, but it made trying to get together with anyone else impossible.

If he really thought about it, Gil didn't know if he wanted to even try for a relationship with anyone anyway. He was used to being alone, and he liked his life as it was. He had his job, his bugs, and his roller coasters, all things he loved and enjoyed. Still, there were times late at night when he thought it might be nice to have a warm body wrapped around him while he slept.

It didn't much matter because rumor had it Nick was a real ladies' man, and Gil simply didn't have the right equipment to catch his interest, and that took care of that. Now, all he had to do was deal with Sara and he could go back to his happy (lonely, his brain helpfully supplied with evil glee) life of self-imposed solitude.

Leaving his office, he wove his way down to the break room, where he found Sara reading yet another forensics textbook. God, the woman never took a break. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I am," Sara said, jumping up from her seat so fast it made Gil's bones ache. "I thought we'd go down to Krispy Kreme. I could really use a sugar rush."

"Fair enough. This was your idea, so you get to pick the destination. Lead the way."

"You want to take the same car?" Sara asked as they walked out into the bright morning sun.

Gil squinted his eyes and pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket. Putting them on, he shook his head. "No, I'd prefer to meet there. That way I can go straight home. I'm still exhausted from the triple shift a few days ago."

Sara shrugged. "Have it your way. It's not a problem."

Ten minutes later they were seated at a table near the back of the shop. Gil sipped on his coffee and waited for Sara to speak. He didn't have to wait long. "I'm tired of this little dance we're doing around each other. I want to have a relationship with you, and I know that you want the same. I'm tired of waiting for you to decide when the time is right for us. I think the time is right now."

Half-smiling, Gil said, "That was certainly straight and to the point."

Sara smiled back. "Well, the subtle and not-so-subtle wasn't working, so I thought I might as well try blunt force. There isn't any reason this can't work. The rules are very clear, and as long as you don't evaluate me or put me up for promotions, and as long as I'm completely consenting, there's no way we can get into trouble. I'm sure Catherine would be perfectly happy to do that for you, and you don't like paperwork anyway."

Gil sat back and sighed softly. "Sara, I know the rules, and they have nothing to do with it. There is only one thing stopping me, and that is that I do not wish to have a relationship with you outside of a professional one, and one of friendship. Truthfully, at one time, I probably would have chosen differently, but that's no longer the case."

Sara sat back and frowned. "I don't understand. I know you were attracted to me even before I came to Vegas. Our relationship here has been good and we're even closer than we used to be. How can you think we wouldn't be a good match? Look at how much we have in common."

"Sara, I'm not going to deny that I was attracted to you, but that's no longer the case. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I can't get into a relationship with you when I can't love you. You're a beautiful, strong, intelligent woman, and you deserve so much more than what I could possibly give you."

Sara's eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him. "What changed? What happened between then and now? Explain it to me, so I know where it was that I went wrong."

Gil shook his head. "Can't we just leave it at this and move on?" he asked, hoping that she wouldn't press any further. He wouldn't hold his breath, though.

He wasn't disappointed. "No, we can't. I've waited for years for you, and I think I deserve an answer to my questions." When Gil said nothing, she snapped, "Don't be a coward, just answer the damn question."

Gil sat forward and looked at her over the top of his glasses. He'd always hated being called a coward, and Sara damn well knew it. "I don't believe I'm too fond of your tone or your insinuation that I'm behaving in a cowardly way. Did it ever occur to you that I'm trying not to hurt you?"

Sara smirked at him. "Don't worry about my fragility. I'm a big girl, I can take it."

Gil sat back again and gave her a tight smile. "I'm in love with somebody else."

The shock on her face wasn't as satisfying as he'd thought it might be. "Excuse me?" she said after she found her voice again.

"I said that I'm in love with someone else. I have been for a long time. Don't be so surprised. I'm not nearly as unfeeling as you've sometimes accused me of being." Gil knew he should be a little more understanding, since Sara was the one being hurt in all this, but the coward remark still rang in his ears and prickled at his pride.

Sara's eyes narrowed. "Who is it?" she asked, and Gil immediately knew of whom she was thinking.

"It's not Sophia. I'm not going to tell you who it is, since it's really none of your business. Nothing will come of it, I'm sure, since you know how emotionally deficient I am. I'm fairly certain this person does not reciprocate my feelings, but I can't seem to change the way I feel. I'm sorry."

Sara pressed her lips together and nodded. When Gil saw the forming tears, he felt guilty. It was never his intention to hurt her, in spite of his digging remarks, and he hated to see her cry. He didn't move, however. Any comfort from him would not be welcome at the moment, he knew, and he didn't want to cause any more damage than necessary. "If that's the case, I'm sorry I pressed you on this. I understand now. I don't like it, but I understand. Um, I guess I'd better go. I'll see you tonight."

Gil nodded and watched Sara slide out of her chair and head for the front door. He caught the gentle swipe she made at her cheeks as she stepped outside, and he slumped his shoulders. God, he hated days like this.

Nick stepped into the crime lab and sighed with relief as the tinted doors countered the rays that blinded him. He hated swing shift, but at least it was better than working days. He really missed the graveyard shift, though.

It didn't much matter, since there weren't any openings on graveyard and Ecklie was such a bastard that he wouldn't allow Nick to go back anyway, not without a good reason. As Nick entered the locker room and opened his locker to give his stuff a fling, he wondered if threatening to leave for another job was good enough reason. Nick banged his head against the locker next to his. Maybe he should seriously consider the two offers he'd gotten over the last couple of weeks. It didn't hurt anything to just think about it.

"Hey, Nick. Whoa, you look like hell," Warrick said as he came into the room.

Nick lifted his head from the cool metal and gave him a half-hearted glare. "Thanks, 'Rick. Your keen sense of observation astounds me, man."

Warrick smirked at him. "I take it your sleeping habits are still shot to hell."

Nick nodded. "You got that right. I'm gonna go swipe some of Greggo's chocolate-covered coffee beans. I need somethin' to wake me up," he said as he shut his locker door and walked out of the room.

"I thought Greg hid those things," Warrick called out.

Nick peeked around the doorway, grinned at Warrick, and winked. "I know where he keeps his stash."

Nick trudged down to the break room, and once he saw that no one was looking, he reached for the tub of five-year-old Quaker Oatmeal no one ever bothered to throw out and pulled out the plastic baggie of coffee beans. Greg knew Nick ate them, but since Nick didn't tell anyone else where they were and he always left money to help replenish the stash, Greg didn't care. He grabbed a handful and put them back, closing the cabinet door only a moment before Catherine came down the hall and into the room. "Hey, Cath," Nick said as he popped a bean into his mouth. "Any assignments?"

"No, not yet. One came in about half an hour ago, but Phillips took the case, since it was still officially day shift. I think he just wanted the overtime," Catherine said as she poured a cup of coffee. She took a sip and grimaced. "God, this is disgusting. Where's Greg when you need him?" she said, throwing the coffee out and pulling a filter and the can of Folgers out of the cupboard.

"Well, with five kids, I don't doubt Phillips needs the overtime," Nick said. "And Greg's on graveyard, not sharing his expensive brew with us."

Catherine smirked and turned the coffee machine on. "You're never going to tell me where he keeps those, are you?" she asked, plucking a bean from Nick's hand.

"Nope. It's Greg's and my dirty little secret. Give me a few bucks next time and I'll get you a handful. So, I guess we're gonna push paperwork and work on lab results for the time being, huh?"

"Looks like it, and I'm glad. There aren't enough of us as it is, and we're backlogged," Catherine said as she peered into the refrigerator. "Why is there never anything good in here?"

"'Cause you don't bring anything in for us to eat," Nick said with a smile.

"Why should I? Gris and company will eat whatever I bring, and day shift will finish it off before we get back the next day. Why bother?"

Nick grinned and stood up. "I'll bring in something for us tomorrow. I guess I'd better get to work on that rape-murder case from last week. The last of the DNA results are supposed to be in today. It's lookin' like we've got the guy already based on the prints, fibers and the semen in the vic's hair, but the semen from the vaginal swab and the skin from under the vic's fingernails will cinch it for us."

"Well, that's good news. The guy still locked up?" Catherine asked as she poured a cup of coffee for Nick and then herself.

"Thanks. Yeah, he's still there. Guy's from El Salvador. He's an illegal, and they consider him a flight risk, so no bond is being permitted. We had enough to charge him and make it stick, but I want to be sure that there are no holes whatsoever in this case. He doesn't need to be out on the street, tryin' to harm someone else. He's tryin' to claim someone else was there with him, but there was no evidence of anyone else near the crime scene. The guy's bluffing."

"Of course he is. When you're as guilty as sin, there's always another shooter on the grassy knoll," Catherine said.

Nick poured sweetener into his coffee and stirred it as he said, "I just wish it didn't take so long for the results to get back. I really miss having Greg in the lab. He may have been a little odd, but he was quick and precise. I'd have had these results in two days instead of eight." Nick took a sip of his coffee, wrinkling his nose at the bitter taste and added another spoonful.

"Just be thankful we don't have to send DNA out to be analyzed. Imagine how long that would take," Catherine said. "I'll be in my office if you need anything. When something comes up, I'll give you a call."

"All right," Nick said as he followed her out. Warrick joined Catherine as she and Nick split up, and Nick went down to DNA to get the results.

It ended up being a long, boring shift, with only two calls coming in, one for a suicide and another for a hit and run. Catherine, wanting Nick to finish up the rape-murder case, left Nick in the lab while she and Warrick took care of the new cases.

The upside was that Nick finished the case and placed his findings and reports on Catherine's desk. Now it was up to her to look them over and add her two cents before they presented it to the DA. Toward the end of shift he had nothing more to do, since he was waiting for lab results on a few other cases, so he ended up strolling up and down the hallways, looking for something to do or someone to bother.

When he saw that Gil's office door was cracked open, he poked his head in. "Hey, Gris. How's it goin'?"

Gil looked up and flashed him a warm smile, a rare sight that made Nick's stomach do flips. "Hello, Nick. Come on in. It's going just fine. I thought I'd come in an hour early to get some paperwork done. I hear you've had a rather uneventful shift."

Nick sat opposite Gil and nodded. "Yeah. I got caught up on some cases, but other than that, I've been twiddlin' my thumbs all evening. Anything interesting goin' on in graveyard?"

"Busy as usual. You'll probably hear it in the rumor mill by your next shift, so I might as well tell you. Sophia's accepted a position with the L.A.P.D. crime lab. She'll be leaving in a couple of weeks."

"Really?" Nick said. That meant that there would be an opening in graveyard. Maybe it was going to be his lucky day. "I'm happy for her." And for himself, as well. "I guess that means that Ecklie will have to bring in a new criminalist."

"Yes, it will. It's his own fault. He never should have demoted her. It was a spineless, vindictive thing to do, and now everyone is paying for it." Gil took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm not looking forward to breaking in a new C.S.I."

"You've broken in Greg with no problems," Nick pointed out.

Gil waved the comment off. "Greg knows what's what. He knows what to expect, and he's a fast learner. It's fun teaching someone like him. He's just like you were when you first got here, so eager to learn and to please. He's going to be very good when he's fully trained."

"As one who was trained by the great Gil Grissom, I would have to agree," Nick said as his beeper went off. He looked down and sighed. "My DNA results are in. I gotta go." Nick got up from his seat, not without a little regret. "Talk to you later."

Nick came back into the lab two hours before his next shift started. He knew Sophia had already given her notice to Ecklie, and if he wanted the now open position, he had to act fast, before Mr. Assistant Kiss-Ass found some rookie to fill the slot.

True to form, he found Ecklie buried behind a paperwork-free desk, phone against his ear, schmoozing some poor person with his politically saturated nonsense. He tapped on the open door lightly, getting Ecklie's attention. When Ecklie signaled for him to enter, Nick sat in front of the desk, on one of the most uncomfortable chairs he'd ever encountered.

He had to wait five long minutes before Ecklie finally hung up his phone. "Nick, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I heard Sophia put in her two-week notice today. I want to request a transfer back to the night shift." Nick figured that the direct route was the best way to go. If he had to suck up to Ecklie, he might just throw up on the man.

Ecklie sat back, the surprise plain on his face. "I see news travels fast. Tell me, why should I think about granting this request? I happen to like having you on swing shift."

Nick sat back and looked Ecklie in the eye. "You want the truth? I hate swing shift. I despise day shift. I'm a night owl. I always have been, even when I was a baby. It drove my momma and daddy nuts, so much so that my grandma had to come stay with us when I was little, so my parents could get some sleep. When I got older and went to school, I would come home and sleep right after the school day was over and I'd get up at three and stay up until school ended the next day. Worked out okay, because my grandma was the same way. I'm havin' a difficult time acclimating myself to the swing shift, and since there is an opening now, I would really like to go back."

Ecklie's eyebrows rose, and he looked at Nick with something akin to disbelief. "Really? Are you sure this doesn't have anything to do with the fact that you and Catherine Willows butt heads more often than not?"

Nick refrained from rolling his eyes, just barely. "This has nothin' to do with Catherine. Yeah, we clash from time to time, but I love that woman. She's a good friend and I wouldn't trade her for anything. This isn't about her; this is about me. If anything, this will be good for her. She'd get a chance to mold some rookie into a great investigator all by herself."

Ecklie seemed to think it over, and Nick waited patiently. Either the man would let him, or he wouldn't. Finally, Ecklie said, "What if I don't want to give you the change in shift?"

Nick sighed with resignation. Looks like he might need some change of address forms soon. "Then I'll have to seriously consider the two other offers on my plate right now."

That seemed to catch Ecklie's interest. "What offers?"

"I've got a couple of friends who work as C.S.I.s. One I went to high school with, and the other was a frat brother. Tim, the one from high school, is the lead investigator on the night shift in Dallas, and he's been badgering me for years to come back home. Mario is a criminalist in New York City, and he's told his boss about me. They offered me a position there last week. Look, I'll be honest with you, man. I don't want to leave Vegas. I have a home here, I have friends, and I love the city, but I can't stay on swing shift anymore without going insane."

There were a few moments of silence before Ecklie finally spoke. "I won't give you Sophia's position, but I will give you Sara's. She came in this morning, not long after Sophia, and requested a change to either the swing or day shift."

Nick sighed in relief. He really didn't want to leave Vegas. "Thank you, Ecklie. I really appreciate this."

Ecklie gave a little half smirk. "I don't think I have much of a choice. Sara threatened to go back to San Francisco if I didn't place her elsewhere."

Nick frowned. "Really? I wonder what brought that on. Last I knew, she was happy on nights."

"I don't know. She didn't tell me, and the look on her face made it clear I wasn't to ask. As long as it doesn't affect her work, I really don't care. Despite what you all may think of me, I'm not stupid. I know you and Sara are two of the best investigators that Vegas has had in a long time, and we need you both here to help keep our record as the best crime lab in the country. I'll give her a call and tell her to get in here for swing shift. You can go home and get some rest, since you'll be reporting to Grissom tonight. I expect both you and Sara to finish out your open cases, even if it means coming in early or staying late."

"Yes, sir," Nick said, getting up to leave. "Thanks again." Nick left the office, practically walking on air. He couldn't believe that Ecklie had given in that easily, but if Sophia was leaving and Sara was threatening to, then Nick was sure Ecklie was worrying about how that reflected on him. He was the one who'd split them up and demoted Sophia in the first place, and if three of the C.S.I.s affected by his decision opted to leave, then someone might start asking questions Ecklie wouldn't want to answer.

Frankly, Nick didn't care what Ecklie's true reasoning was, or why Sara was switching shifts. He was able to get back on the night shift, and that was all that mattered to him. Better yet, he was going to be working again with two of his favorite people in the department, Greg and Gil. Greg was the closest thing he had to a best friend in the city, and Gil…well, Gil got his motor revving better than any other man or woman ever had.

Sliding into the driver's seat of his Tahoe, Nick groaned as he remembered the first time he'd seen Gil Grissom. First night on the job, and he'd been sent down to Gil's office, since Brass had been out on a case with Catherine and Warrick.

Nick hadn't been green exactly, since he'd worked in the lab in Dallas briefly before getting the job in Vegas, but he was dumb enough to fall for Gil's request for a blood donation. While Nick sat at the desk nursing his arm and woozy head after being victimized by the lab's resident vampire, he'd watched Gil work on a case that had bugs in abundance. The guy was like a kid in a candy shop, and before Nick could figure out what had hit him, he was completely smitten.

Luckily for Nick, Gil seemed to be oblivious to his attraction, and everyone else chalked up his interest in Gil to hero worship. That meant he didn't have to deal with any of the repercussions of his sexual preferences, which was fine with him. Vegas' police department wasn't exactly some hick town police department in the middle of Nowheresville, Texas, but it didn't mean they were exactly embracing of those with homosexual or bisexual tendencies. Nick knew he probably wouldn't be able to hide the fact that he was bisexual forever, but he'd like to keep it under wraps for as long as possible.

Nick wasn't sure at which point in time he'd fallen in love with Gil, but he could remember with perfect clarity the first time he realized it. It was during the case with Chad Matthews. Gil had been furious with him when Nick had interrupted his interrogation with Patrick/Chad, which Nick understood because he would have reacted the same way, and seeing Gil all in a tizzy was actually very hot, so Nick was more inclined to not get angry with him. But when Gil had found out what Nick and Sara had to offer and he told Nick that he was beginning to forgive him, Nick's first thought was 'God, I love this man.'

That revelation had nearly taken Nick's legs right out from under him, and Nick never had been able to figure out what exactly it was about that moment that gave him such clarity. It didn't have anything to do with what Gil had done or said, and he hadn't looked at Nick any differently than he had at other times, but there it was all the same. Nick was in love.

Nick laughed at himself as he turned the ignition and put the Tahoe into drive. If anyone could hear inside his head, they'd laugh their asses off. He was hopelessly pathetic, but at least his thoughts were his alone. It wasn't as if he was going to share these thoughts with anyone, and especially not with Gil. From all Nick had witnessed, Gil's affections, when the veneer around him cracked and showed the emotional undersurface, had always been aimed at the female half of the species. It was that fact alone that kept Nick from even toying with the idea of letting Gil know about how he felt.

Nick cleared his mind on his drive back home, not wanting to distract himself right into a light pole, but as he pulled into the driveway, his mind wandered to Gil once again. Gil was the only man he'd ever met that was worth the potential hassles in his career and with his family. He'd met guys that he'd liked before, but his job had always come first. If he had any inkling that Gil was amenable to a lasting relationship with him, however, Nick would gladly risk anything to be with him. If only…

Nick shook his head and got out of his SUV. All the "ifs" in the world weren't going to change anything, so it was best if he put these thoughts of Gil out of his mind. He needed more sleep, if he was going to go in early tonight.

"Hey, Nick, can I speak with you for a moment, in private?"

Nick, who had just entered the locker room, winced at Catherine's tone. She sounded really pissed. He should have known she'd take offence to his shift change. He turned around and gave her his most charming smile. "Sure, Cath."

She turned on her heel after giving him her patented "wipe that look off your face because I'm not in the market for bullshit" glare, and he had no choice but to follow wherever she led.

Wherever happened to be the break room, which was currently vacant. Nick followed Catherine inside, stopping just short of smashing their bodies together when she suddenly spun around to face him. "Do you have a problem with me?"

"No," he answered. Anything more he'd been about to say was interrupted.

"Really? Then tell me why, after nine months, you suddenly decide you want to be anywhere but my shift? I know you and I have had our issues from time to time, but I never thought it was so serious that you couldn't stand to be on my team. It actually hurts me, Nick, because I thought we were friends. I wish you would have talked to me about this."

"Catherine, calm down. We are friends, good friends. I adore you, and I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, but this didn't have anything to do with us knockin' antlers on the job. Gris told me Sophia was leavin', and I jumped at the chance to get back on nights because I've been havin' problems getting my body to adjust to the change. I've been exhausted because I can't get myself on a proper schedule. Like I told Ecklie, I'm a night person, which is one of the reasons I took this job in the first place, and why I chose to stay on graveyard once I hit level three. The issues we have were the farthest things from my mind when I went to see Ecklie. As far as I'm concerned, we're cool, and our disagreements are nothin' more than family squabbles." Nick reached out and pulled Catherine into a bear hug. "I love you, Cath. You're the closest thing I have to a sister around here."

Catherine's arms went around him and Nick smiled. "Sorry to jump down your throat, Nick. This is you we're talking about, and I should have known it wasn't personal."

Nick put Catherine at arm's length and shook his head. "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I shoulda called you when Ecklie sent me home. I just didn't think. Are we gonna be okay?"

Catherine gave him a warm smile and nodded. "Yeah, we're fine. I am going to miss having you on my team, though. I kinda liked ordering you around."

Nick laughed and hugged Catherine again. "I'll miss havin' you boss me around. But hey, you've got Sara now. That oughta be fun."

"Yeah, Sara's a load of laughs. Do you know why she decided to leave the night shift? She gave me this really sour, pissed off look when I asked her about it earlier, so I didn't press her."

"I have no idea. Ecklie didn't know either, said he got the same look. Maybe Gris finally told her where she stood, as far as their personal relationship went," Nick said. "From what Greg's told me, she's been pushin' it. I talked to him briefly last night, and he said Sara stopped Gris on their way out after he handed out assignments, and when Gris got to the car, he didn't look happy."

Catherine, who had stepped away to pour them each a cup of coffee, handed one of the mugs to Nick as she smirked at him. "You know about Sara's affections, huh?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Catherine, everyone knows about them. She hasn't exactly hidden her Grissom obsession since she came here. The only one oblivious to it was Grissom himself." A fact that made Nick eternally grateful, because he'd throw up if he had to watch those two making eyes at each other. It annoyed the hell out of him how Sara always acted superior because Gil had asked her to come to Vegas, and then pouted and acted like a child when she didn't get her way. He liked Sara, but sometimes he just couldn't stomach her for long when she got in one of her moods.

"Well, I clued him in more than a dozen times. I don't know for sure, but I think his obliviousness was more because he didn't want to face those feelings rather than him not being aware of them. I'll ask Gil if I can manage to corner him. Well, I've gotta get back to work. Why are you in so early, by the way? Graveyard doesn't start for another three hours."

"Ecklie made it clear that Sara and I were supposed to clear all our open cases even though we've changed shifts, so I thought I'd come in and work those for a while. I've only got a few left open, that assault case from last week, the brawl that broke out in the parking lot of the Luxor on Monday, and the B&E from two nights ago."

Catherine nodded and headed out the door. She poked her head back in a second later. "Oh, and good job on that rape case, Nick. I've sent it over to the DA, and she's filing the charges tomorrow."

"Thanks, Catherine," Nick said, giving her a nod before tossing the rest of his coffee and heading out to work.

Two and a half hours later, Nick was sitting in the break room again, half dozing as he waited for his shift to start. He managed to finish up the case on the brawl, since there hadn't been a lot of evidence other than several men acting like drunken idiots. Most of them had already pleaded guilty to minor charges and pointed their fingers at those who didn't, so his findings were more for protocol and making sure all their ducks were in a row, in case one of the morons tried to get cute. DNA results still weren't in, and the prints he'd lifted from the B&E were doing their romp through AFIS, leaving him without much to do. Thus, there he was, leaning back in the chair, cup of coffee beans at his side, eyes closed and his mind drifting away in a happy sea of non-thoughts.

Of course, he should have known better than to be caught unaware in the lab. He nearly jumped out of his seat when a voice said near his ear, "I believe you've been in my stash again."

"Jesus, Greg, warn someone before you do that," Nick gasped, clutching his chest in a melodramatic fashion. He grinned when Greg just rolled his eyes and muttered, "Drama queen."

"So, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be getting ready to call it a night," Greg said as he plopped into the chair next to Nick's and snatched the paper cup of coffee beans away from Nick.

"Actually, my shift hasn't even started," Nick said, enjoying the confused look on Greg's face.

"What are you talking about? Your shift is almost over, unless you've entered some strange new time warp and you're not letting the rest of us in on it," Greg said as he crunched on a bean.

"Nope, no strange new time warp, unless that's what you want to call a trip into Ecklie's office. Sara and I have traded shifts. She's on swing, and I'm back on nights."

"No way. That would mean that Ecklie actually did something for one of us that might be construed as nice. No, really, what's going on?" Greg said.

Nick laughed at him. "I'm serious about the change, but Ecklie didn't have much choice, unless he wanted to lose three investigators instead of just the one. Can't have himself lookin' bad in Atwater's eyes."

Greg grinned. "Well, I don't care why he did it. Man, it's good to have you back. Going out on assignment with you will be great. Sara always manages to make me feel less than adequate, even when I know I'm doing the job right."

"Yeah, well, she's a workaholic. I promise not to allow my superior knowledge and experience make you feel inadequate," Nick vowed, going so far to raise his right hand as if he were swearing an oath.

"Oh, shut up," Greg said, tossing the now empty cup in his direction and succeeding in hitting Nick in the forehead. "Hey, Sophia. You want to help me beat Nick up for trying to bruise my ego?" he asked Sophia as she walked into the break room and headed directly for the pot of coffee.

"Greg, there's nothing or no one who could bruise your ego," Sophia teased as she poured herself a cup. Sugar and cream added, she grimaced after she tasted it. "God, this is disgusting. Greg, make a pot of the good stuff, and I'll willingly hold down Nick while you do whatever you want to him."

Greg gave her a toothy grin and waggled his eyebrows. "Whatever I want?" he asked in a tone that set off warning bells and made Nick a little nervous. "I'll go get the Blue Hawaiian."

After Greg practically sprinted out of the room, Nick turned to Sophia, who was laughing. "Think I should start panicking now?"

Still chuckling, she shook her head. "I think he's just glad to have you back. He's missed having someone to pick on. Sara was the best candidate he had on which to unleash his inner geek, and while she could keep up pretty good, she wasn't you. And Catherine wasn't there to offset Grissom, so he wasn't as much fun for Greg. As for myself, Greg's never seemed all too comfortable with me to really let go. But to answer your question, yes, do panic."

Nick couldn't help but laugh. He and Sophia were still chuckling as Gil passed by the break room door. "Nick, a word with you?" he said through the doorway.

"Be right there, Gris," he called out to his boss' retreating back. "Make sure Greg doesn't drink too much of that coffee. If I have to work with him tonight, I don't wanna hafta scrape him off the ceiling."

"I'll make sure of it," Sophia called out as he headed toward Gil's office.

As Nick entered the office, Gil looked up. "Close the door and sit down, Nick."

Nick did so with no small amount of amusement. Usually under these conditions, Nick would be an internal nervous wreck, his mind working at high speed, trying to figure out just what the hell he'd done wrong. Since he hadn't worked under Gil in nine months, he knew there was nothing, and he could just sit back and take inappropriate joy in having a brief moment alone with Gil.

It was a few moments before Gil finally looked up from the few sheets of paper he had been frowning over. "I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when I came in early and found that my team dynamic had shifted once again."

Gracing Gil with an amused smile, Nick said in a teasing voice, "What? You aren't happy to have me back? I'm wounded, really, I am."

The amusement Nick felt increased when Gil just barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Would you care to enlighten me as to the change? When I left this morning, Sara was on my team, and you were on Catherine's. I came back tonight, and the two of you had switched, and I had paperwork and a message from Ecklie stating that you two pitched a fit and he had no choice but to grant your wishes, if he wanted to keep the two of you here."

Nick didn't bother to hold back his eye roll. "Ecklie's such an idiot. I can't speak for Sara, but I did not pitch a fit. I didn't even raise my voice. All I said was that I wanted back on the night shift because I was havin' trouble adjusting to swing for personal reasons, and when he asked why he should do what I wanted, I told him that if I couldn't get back on nights, I was going to consider the offers that two of my friends had recently given me. That was fact, not me pitchin' a fit."

Gil peered at Nick over his glasses, his surprise plain to see. "You would have seriously contemplated leaving Vegas if Ecklie hadn't changed your schedule?"

Nick shrugged and answered honestly. "Yeah, I would have. There were two reasons I came to Vegas. One was because it was a chance to work with you. When I was at the Dallas lab, all I heard from our resident entomologist- he was nowhere near your caliber, mind you, just interested in bugs-was how great you were and how smart, and how he would kill for the chance to work with you in the best lab in the country. When the chance came to work with you, the legendary Gil Grissom, I couldn't very well pass that up. The second reason was that while working with you, I got to work on the graveyard shift. When I became a C.S.I. 3, I chose to stay on the night shift, because that's where I wanted to be. When Ecklie changed me to swing, he put me right in the middle of the time when my body shuts down completely for sleep, and as hard as I've tried to retrain myself, most of the time I come into work exhausted and leave even worse. I've even developed a coffee bean addiction from it. So, when I heard Sophia was leaving, I took my shot, figuring Catherine would like the option of training someone new, tailored to her way of thinking, but then Sara decided she wanted to change shifts, and here we are."

Gil nodded. "Well, here we are. I never wanted you to leave my shift in the first place, so Ecklie won't hear me complain about the change. I was simply curious as to why you were back. And now that you are, I have just the assignment for you. Head out to Lake Mead; we have a dead body that washed up on shore. Brass is awaiting your arrival."

Nick took the paper Gil held out for him. "I'm on it. I'll let you know if anything comes up."

"You do that," Gil said as Nick stood up to leave. As Nick opened the door, Gil called out, "Welcome back, Nick."

Nick turned around and gave Gil a big smile. The smile he received in return made his heart beat just a little faster. "Thanks."

Chapter Two

"Do you think Sophia will like these?" Gil asked, holding up the opened jewelry box and showing the diamond stud earrings to Nick.

Nick had to fight the urge to laugh. It was so cute that Gil was insecure about giving a friend anything that didn't have to do with work or bugs. "Yes, she'll love them. Gold, diamonds, what is there for a woman not to like?" Nick slid a piece of wrapping paper towards Gil. "You've never given me anything so extravagant," he teased.

"You haven't left the department and moved to another state. When you decide to go, I'll buy you a pair of diamond earrings," Gil shot back.

"I'll send out my acceptance to New York after the party," Nick said with a smile. "When are the others coming?"

"Greg should be here any minute, and Jim will be here as soon as he picks up dinner. Sara's not coming, since Warrick, Catherine, and she have their hands full with that murder-suicide. Day shift crew said their goodbyes yesterday, so none of them will be here, and neither will Ecklie, thank God. Sophia should be here in about half an hour."

"Here" was Gil's townhouse. After long deliberation, they-meaning Nick, Brass, and Greg-decided Gil's place would be much better for an intimate party than the lab's break room. Gil had protested, but Nick managed to convince him, something for which Nick was grateful. He wasn't ready to explain to Gil or anyone else how he could manage to afford the home he now lived in, especially with his salary. Explanations would lead to revealing things about himself that he didn't want to share with everyone yet, close friends or not.

"So, Nick, you want to tell me why you didn't want to have Sophia's going-away party at your house?" Gil asked.

Nick sent him a weak glare. What was the man, a mind reader? He started to open his mouth, not having any idea what excuse he would manage to spew forth, but he was saved by the glorious sound of the doorbell ringing. "That's gotta be Greggo. I'll get it," Nick said, jumping up and all but running for the door.

"Hey, Greg," he said as he opened the front door. The first thing he noticed was the elaborate party hat Greg sported on his head, and Nick couldn't help but burst into laughter. The hat was a large, glittering gold and silver tiara with long feathers, which were various colors of the rainbow and then some, that stuck out of the top of the tiara in every direction. Long, silver strings like Christmas tinsel hung out of the bottom, cascading down Greg's shoulders like hair. "Where the hell did you get that thing?" Nick asked, stepping back to let Greg inside.

"Made it myself," Greg said. Nick took the bags Greg shoved in his direction. "This is an extremely special occasion, and I wanted to make sure Sophia will never, ever forget me." Greg caught Nick's eye and scoffed. "Yeah, right, like that would ever happen."

"After seein' that thing on your head, Greg, she'll be having nightmares for the rest of her life," was Nick's dry reply.

"Aw, c'mon, little Nicky, you know you love it," Greg replied cheerfully as he scoped out Gil's home. Nick had forgotten Greg had never been here before, and he could understand the curiosity.

"Yeah, Greg, I'm in love with your hat. It's really got my juices flowin'," Nick deadpanned as he kicked the door shut and followed Greg. "What have you got in here?"

"Just a few party favors. Relax, there's nothing vulgar or intoxicating."

Nick tried not to look like he didn't believe Greg, but, well, he didn't. Greg seemed to know what he was thinking, because he looked at Nick as if he were a saint to put up with him. "No, really. We do have to go in tonight, and Grissom would never forgive me if I embarrassed, harassed, or horrified the guest of honor in any way. You think I wanna be on that man's shit list?"

"No, I wouldn't, and no, you wouldn't," Gil said as the came into view. The look he sent in Nick's direction made it clear he hadn't forgotten his question from before and he knew Nick was hiding something. The look also promised that Gil would eventually wear him down and find out what that something was.

"Let's see what you've got in here," Nick said with overt cheerfulness, choosing to ignore Gil's well-understood message. Making a note to avoid being alone with Gil in the near future, he set the bags down on the table and pulled out three bottles of sparkling cider.

Looking over at Greg with surprise, Nick was rewarded by having Greg's tongue stuck out in his direction. "I told you so. I thought we might like to make a toast or ten, but we needed something that was nonalcoholic. I've had it before, and it's pretty good. Make yourself useful and put them in the freezer so they can chill."

Nick threw Greg a glare that didn't have the desired withering effect Nick was going for, but he did go into the kitchen, muttering about level one investigators who oughtta show more respect for their betters.

After all the things he'd seen Gil put into the office fridges, Nick hesitated to open the freezer. He relaxed when he did open it and found the relatively bare but otherwise normal contents of the freezer. This lent credence to Nick's theory that Gil traumatized his team for the sheer enjoyment of it when he hijacked the break room refrigerator for his experiments.

Greg's voice drifted in his direction as he slid the last bottle in and closed the door. "You taking a little nap in there?"

"No, smart ass," Nick said as he walked back into the living room. "What the hell is that?"

"This, my friend, is your party hat," Greg announced with glee as he raised it so Nick could get a better look. Once again Greg was going with the tiara theme, but this one was half red and half navy blue, with a white star in the center.

"You bought me a tiara the color of the Texas flag?"

"Noooo," Greg said in a low and drawn out voice, looking at Nick as if he were stupid, "I made you a crown the color of the Texas flag. Do you honestly think they'd carry something like this in Nevada? Besides, this is no ordinary tiara. This is the Wonder Woman model. Nothing's too good for our little Nicky."

Nick's eyes shifted over to Gil, who was conveniently hiding his face behind a book of crossword puzzles, but it did nothing to hide the fact that he was getting a great deal of amusement out of Nick's pain. Shooting a dirty look his way, not that Gil actually saw it since he was a great big chicken who didn't have the balls to laugh in Nick's face, Nick turned back to Greg and glared at him. "You want me to wear Wonder Woman's tiara? Are you insane?"

"No, I'm not. Come on, put it on and model for Grissom. Let him tell you how pretty you are," Greg coaxed, holding out the offending party hat and waving it under Nick's nose.

Nick put on his best "are you shittin' me" glare. "I'm not wearin' that thing, and nothin' you do can make me change my mind."

"Aw, please Nick? I went through all the trouble of spreading glue on and pouring glitter. I bought glitter, Nick! The least you can do is wear it."

"If I were you, I'd be more concerned that I'd bought a couple of tiaras. No, I'm not putting that thing on."

"But you'd look so cute. Wouldn't he be just the most adorable thing you'd ever seen, Gris?"

Nick's attention shifted over to the chicken behind the magazine. Gil had managed to control his laughter, but his eyes were still filled with amusement. "Oh, I think he'd look absolutely breathtaking, just like a little princess."

Wondering if they'd really miss Gil and Greg at work if he killed them and hid the bodies, Nick replied, "If you like it so much, Gris, it's all yours. You ain't gonna find me touchin' that thing with a ten-foot pole."

Greg cocked his head to the side and studied Nick just long enough to make him uncomfortable. "What are you lookin' at?"

"Did you know that your accent gets deeper when you're embarrassed?" Greg asked, the abrupt change in subject catching Nick off guard.

"It does not," Nick snapped, cursing silently as his face grew hot. He knew his accent really did get thicker, but that was entirely beside the point.

"Does too," Greg replied, seemingly unfazed by Nick's irritation.

Just then the doorbell rang again. "I'll get it and leave you two to your witty battle of words, kiddies," Gil said.

Making a face at Gil's retreating back, Nick turned his attention to Greg. "What's got you in such a silly mood tonight? Not that I'm complainin', mind you. It's just that lately you haven't exactly been the headdress wearin', markers-up-the-nose, let's play "name that compound", blare-loud-music-until-our-ears-bleed Greg that we all know and get annoyed with. I've actually missed that, believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe it, baby," Greg said with a wink. "Everybody misses me when I'm gone. Seriously though? It was something Sophia said to me a while back. You remember the case with the woman who tried to commit suicide by burning herself to death?"

"Yeah, I ain't likely to forget that one soon," Nick said. "What about it?"

"Well, I was having problems, you know, with the lab explosion flashbacks and knowing that woman was alive and burned up like that, and when it came to processing her fingers, I just couldn't do it. I was feeling really bad, and Sophia came into the locker room. Basically, she told me not to lose who I am because of what I do and what I see. She was right. I was losing myself, and I'm trying very hard not to do that again, even if these hats might be a little over the top. I like me," Greg said, smiling brightly.

Nick smiled and clapped Greg on the back. "We like you, too." He released a deep, drawn out sigh and glared at the party hat before picking it up and slapping it on his head. After that explanation, he very well couldn't deny Greg his fun. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic." Greg pulled a third and fourth hat out of another bag. "Think we can get Brass and Grissom to wear these?"

"Not likely," Brass replied as he and Gil carried various boxes and cartons of food into the room.

"Speak for yourself, Jim," Gil said as he set the pizza boxes on the table and snatched the bug-decorated hat out of Greg's hand and put it on. "How can I resist wearing a hat covered with Cicindela haemorrhagica?"

"At least one person appreciates all the trouble I go to. Ooh, pizza and Chinese. What a combo," Greg said, opening the top pizza box and inhaling the scent of bell peppers, onions, sausage, and pepperoni. "Mm…mushrooms."

"Put that lid back down," Brass said. "You don't get to snack before the guest of honor gets here."

"Spoilsport," Greg said as he put the lid back into place. "Hey, Gris, where's your music collection? If you don't have anything good, I have a whole case of CDs in my car."

Nick ducked his head to hide his grin. The panic on Gil's face was priceless. It really was going to be fun watching these two in an informal setting.

"Sophia's here!" Greg shouted, and Nick rolled his eyes. As if they couldn't hear the doorbell ring, even over the Led Zepplin CD Greg had put on, after finding it in Gil's collection. Gil's relief that Greg had found something worthwhile in his collection was palpable. If Greg hadn't, that meant he would be heading out to his car and grabbing his own CDs, and since they all knew what Greg usually listened to…well, the relief made its way to everyone around the room.

Nick hung back a little, watching the others greet Sophia warmly. He hadn't known her well or spent much time with her, but he knew she was a great C.S.I., and it didn't feel right that she felt forced to leave. What's done is done, though, Nick thought as Sophia came up to him.

Nick leaned forward as he clasped her hands, and he kissed her on the cheek. "Evenin', Sophia. Glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I do regret that you and I won't be able to get to know one another. Gil has always spoken highly of you."

The urge to jump high in the air, waving his fist and shouting "Yes!" was strong, but Nick restrained himself. For one thing, he didn't want to embarrass himself, acting like a kid in front of Gil. For another, if Gil found out why he was doing it, he might start keeping his Nick-praise to himself, and Nick would never hear about it. Regardless of what Gil might think of him if he knew, Nick did want Gil's approval, as much as Nick wanted to approve of himself. "That's good to know. Gil doesn't tell me what he thinks of my work too often, so I generally have to hear it from everyone else," he said in a whisper.

"Well, he says you're a bright, intelligent man, a little emotional at times when it comes to your cases, but you're a great C.S.I., one he's proud to have taken under his wing. Gil really admires you," she added, "just so you know."

"Just so you know what?" Gil asked.

Nick took a deep breath and smiled. "Nothing. We're just talkin' about how much she's gonna be missed,' he said, hoping Gil bought it because he couldn't lie worth a shit to this man.

Naturally, Gil didn't look as though he believed him, but seemed willing to forget about it. "As long as you weren't discussing my horrible taste in décor, I don't want to know."

"Now, Gil, your home is quite nice. A little masculine, but comfortable nonetheless," Sophia said.

"You can stop trying to be diplomatic, Sophia. I know my home is a little sterile," Gil said, pouring her a glass of sparkling cider, which Greg had just removed from the freezer.

"Well, I like it. It's very you," Nick said. "You do need some pictures of your friends and family, though. I don't see any."

Sophia nodded. "Yes, that's just what the room needs, a touch of personal, emotional ties."

"And I've got just the thing," Greg said, holding up his digital camera.

"Is that a department camera?" Gil asked.

"No, this is mine. We are allowed to have cameras outside the department, you know," Greg said, flashing Gil a smile before snapping a shot of Gil, Nick, and Sophia. "I thought I'd capture the moment and then send you copies, Sophia."

"I would love that, Greg, thank you. See what you can do about getting Gil some pictures to put up around his home, will you?"

Nick couldn't hold back a chuckle at the brief panic that flashed across Gil's face. As an extremely private man, Nick knew Gil didn't want candid photos of himself floating around the office, but he also knew Gil would be a good sport about it and not take away Greg's toy. Nick reached out and squeezed Gil's shoulder, hoping he got across his understanding, and went to find himself some of the broccoli and beef he'd made Brass order, leaving Gil to fend for himself as Greg aimed the camera at Gil and said, "Say tarantula'. It will be good for him, Nick thought. His chuckle wasn't the least bit evil. Really, it wasn't.

"Are you sure you don't want any help cleaning up, Gris?" Nick asked. The party had just ended, with everyone going off to get ready for work. There wasn't much of a mess, but Nick felt guilty for leaving it, especially since he'd helped talk Gil into having the party here because he didn't want to have it at his house.

"No, it's fine. Once I put the food into the refrigerator, I'm going to leave the rest of it. I have a cleaning service that comes in once a week, and they'll be here tomorrow, so they can take care of the mess."

That made Nick feel a little better. "Okay, then. I'll see you at the lab," he said, walking toward the door. He was surprised to find Gil walking him to the door.

"See you later, Nick," Gil said, laying a hand on Nick's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze while he opened the door. Nick nodded, his throat suddenly tight, making it difficult for him to speak. He did manage to smile at Gil, and he hoped he didn't look too love-struck as he pulled away from the hand lingering on his shoulder. The sensation of Gil's thumb gently rubbing just behind his neck wasn't lost on Nick. Why Gil was touching him or whether or not it meant anything, Nick didn't know, but he did know that if he didn't move now, he would end up turning around and jumping Gil, which was definitely not the best idea at the moment.

Instead, Nick got into his Tahoe and drove straight home, trying very hard not to think of the way Gil was looking at him as they stood at the front door. All bets were off, however, once he got inside his house. He locked the door behind him, disabled the alarm, and threw his keys on the hall table. He didn't bother resetting the alarm, a first for him since he'd moved away from his old place, and instead he made a beeline for his bedroom, shucking off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants as he strode toward his destination.

Once in his bedroom, he kicked off his sneakers and shoved his jeans and jockeys down past his knees in one quick motion, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull them off completely, along with his socks. He then scooted back on the bed, propping himself up against the pillows. He applied a liberal amount of lubrication, which he'd picked up from the bedside table, to his right hand and slowly wrapped it around the base of the erection he'd been sporting since the moment Gil had touched him.

Spreading his legs and closing his eyes, Nick slowly slid his hand up his dick, trying to imagine what Gil looked like. Was Gil cut, like him, or did he have foreskin? Foreskin, Nick decided, though he wouldn't be disappointed either way, should he be given the chance to find out.

Knowing he wouldn't last long, Nick let the image of Gil enter his mind as the rhythmic fisting of his own right hand sped up slightly. Nick let out a loud groan, imagining that Gil was behind him, that it was his hand sliding over Nick's chest, pinching his nipples, that it was Gil's slick hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him hard and fast, bringing him closer and closer as he whispered sweet words into his ear, telling Nick how much he wanted him, how much he wanted to bury his cock deep inside, so deep he could feel Nick's heart thudding against the head of his dick. He could almost feel Gil's naked warmth covering his back, his erection nestling between his ass cheeks, rubbing against Nick's skin with every thrust…

"Fuck, yes, Gil! God! Yessss!" he yelled out into the silence of the room as he quickly reached his climax, hips thrusting up into his fist as he spilled over onto his hand and stomach. He lay there for a few moments, enjoying the aftermath of one of the strongest orgasms he'd had in a long time, before dragging himself into the bathroom to get ready for work. He only hoped that after this he'd be able to look Gil in the eye.

"Assignment time, boys," Gil said, glaring over his glasses at Nick and Greg, who were in the break room playing some video game, probably the one they'd been talking about the night before at Sophia's going away party. "You want to cut that off before I decide to dock your pay?" Not that he really minded, since it was fun to see Nick and Greg having so much fun, but he still had to keep up appearances.

"Yes, sir," Nick said, reaching over to click off the game console and television. It was wrong, wrong of Gil to think about how hot Nick sounded when he responded to chastisement. "When's the newbie supposed to be sent to us?"

"Not for several days. It's some kid just out of the academy that's been given the job, but he's suffering from a bout of the chicken pox." A condition Gil did not envy, and as a person who hadn't had the pleasure of that particular childhood disease, he was more than happy to allow the young man all the time he needed to get over it.

Greg winced. "I don't envy him. I didn't get them until I was seventeen, and I was absolutely miserable for three weeks. My mother wasn't too thrilled either."

Exchanging smirks with Nick, Gil could well imagine Greg being forced to sit at home, doing nothing but lying in bed and itching. Greg couldn't sit still to save his life, and Gil was almost certain Greg's mother would have killed him if the illness had lasted any longer. He'd seen some of Greg's antics when boredom overtook him. "I'm sure you'll commiserate with him when he joins us, and not make him feel uncomfortable," Gil said, giving him a pointed glare.

"Who, me? Do I ever make anyone uncomfortable?" Greg asked with all the innocence of a scorpion.

"You make me uncomfortable on a daily basis," Gil replied without missing a beat, smirking when Greg let out a huff and started pouting. "Fortunately for you, I rather enjoy the discomfort. It breaks the monotony. This assignment is for you, Greg. There's been a rape reported at Desert Springs. This one's all yours."

"You want me on this one by myself?" Greg said, false indignation immediately becoming overshadowed by sudden panic. This would be his first solo sexual assault case.

Gil patted Greg's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. Sometimes Greg was so jumpy around him that Gil could never tell if he was helping or hindering. God, he envied Nick and Catherine their people skills sometimes. But one of the promises he'd made Sophia before she left was that he would try to be more sociable with his peers, and he was just lonely enough to try. "You've gone solo before, Greg, and this isn't any different. I have complete faith in you. It's a fairly easy rape case, if they can ever be considered to be, but it's just like the ones that you've worked with Sara and Sophia. Have the female officer at the hospital gather the kit, take any oral or body swabs that might have been overlooked, interview the victim, and get working on the case. You'll do fine, but if you aren't sure about something, Nick and I are only one phone call away."

"Okay, Gris." Greg nodded and took the paper out of Gil's hand, but he still looked a little nervous in Gil's eyes. There wasn't much Gil could do about that, however, since all C.S.I.s were nervous when they started going solo on bigger cases. Gil knew Greg could do this, though. He was compassionate and would put the victim at ease far better than Gil ever could. It was a simpler case than most were, evidence-wise, since the victim knew the alleged rapist. It was so helpful when the suspect fled the crime scene with his name, address, and telephone number left behind. "I guess I'll see you guys later."

"Whatcha got for me?" Nick asked as Greg left.

"You are coming with me. Brass just called in a 419 out on Trinity Road off I-15, about forty miles outside Vegas. "Brass says it's definitely a homicide."

"That sounds ominous. Well, lead the way, Gris." Gil walked out ahead of Nick and headed for his Tahoe, slipping inside the driver's seat. When Nick got inside the car, he buckled up and turned to Gil. "Trinity Road? Isn't that one of those long dirt roads that leads into the desert?"

"Yes, I believe so. There are a few houses out there, but most of them were abandoned long ago. I think there are a few people who still live out there," Gil said as he backed his car out of its slot and headed toward the freeway. He was glad to note that whatever had distracted Nick last night seemed to be resolved. For a moment he'd thought it had been the lingering touch he'd allowed himself to indulge in the night before, but now Nick was acting like he always did, and Gil was glad.

Gil could see Nick nodding his head out of the corner of his eye. "At least that will make canvassing the neighborhood for witnesses easier," Nick remarked.

"True, but it also makes our job a little harder, since anyone could have dumped the body on the side of that road without anyone nearby noticing. It's best if we reserve judgment until we actually have a look at the scene."

"You're right, as usual," Nick said, winking at Gil when he turned and gave Nick a questioning look. Gil was glad it was semi-dark in the car, because he could feel his face flush. If he didn't know better, he would think Nick was actually flirting with him, but that was a ridiculous notion, one best pushed completely out of his mind. Instead, he focused on what Nick was saying. "This is gonna be a long-ass drive. Anything in particular you wanna talk about?"

Gil pulled off the road and into a convenience store parking lot. "I'll think about that while we get something to drink for the drive," he said, getting out of the car. He didn't wait to see if Nick would follow him, which he did.

Five minutes later, they were back on the road, Gil sipping on a cup of coffee and Nick nursing a Snapple. "Well, got any topics?" Nick asked him.

"Not a one," Gil said with a chuckle. "Truthfully, anything you want to talk about is fine with me."

The grin he saw out of the corner of his eye made Gil think he'd said the wrong thing. Before he could even think to amend his statement, Nick asked, "So why did Sara leave nights? She wouldn't tell Ecklie, and she won't tell Catherine, but there's got to be a reason. I have my theories, but I think you probably know."

Gil groaned inwardly. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Sara, not while he was alone with Nick. Why couldn't Nick ask him anything else, something personal that didn't have to do with Sara's undying obsessions? "Why do you think I would know? She didn't exactly tell me that she demanded a transfer."

"Come on, Gris. The woman practically worships the ground you walk on. You're her Yoda, man. Somethin' had to have happened."

"What do you think happened?" Gil asked, never taking his eyes off the road as he turned onto the on-ramp of I-15. "What's your theory?"

He glanced over at Nick as soon as he merged into the right lane and saw him shrug. "I think she finally cornered you about her feelings for you, and when you shot her down, she decided she'd rather not work under you all the time. That about right?"

"That sounds scarily accurate," Gil replied, keeping his voice neutral. While he didn't particularly want to talk about this, he found that Nick was the only one he felt somewhat comfortable with. He wondered what that said about his feelings toward Nick. "I don't want to see her hurt, but once she made it clear that I had to make a definitive choice, I had no other option. She's good at her job, and I'm glad she didn't decide to leave the lab, but part of me is glad she's not under my supervision anymore."

"Can I ask one more thing about this, then I promise I'll change the subject?"

Gil couldn't help but grin over at Nick. He'd sounded so meek when he'd asked that, as if he were overstepping Gil's boundaries. He really was, but that was something else that Gil didn't seem to mind Nick doing. It scared him, but he pushed that fear away. If this backfired, he was going to send Sophia a variety of insects and arachnids guaranteed to terrorize her. "Ask away, Nick."

"Did you refuse her because you didn't love her, or because you were her supervisor?"

"Alan Watts said, 'Never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command.'" Gil sighed softly. "I don't love her, and I can't pretend that I do, therefore I had no choice but to refuse her. Being her supervisor is something I could have easily circumvented. As long as I didn't do her evaluations or put her up for promotions, there would have been nothing said, even if our relationship had been found out. Have you ever seen Ecklie's wife?"

"Yeah, once or twice. I'm surprised anyone would marry him."

That was said with such dislike for Ecklie that Gil couldn't help laughing. "Yes, we were all surprised, but that's not my point. Straight-laced, brown-nosing, never-breaks-the-rules Conrad bent the rules that were in place when he started dating her. She used to be an investigator under Conrad when he was day-shift supervisor. She quit about two weeks before you came to Vegas, because she was pregnant and she wanted to be home with the kids. The rules are there to cover the department's ass if something should happen, and that way they can blame the two involved and fire them for breaking the rules if the relationship imploded and they tried to use legal means to get back at one another. That's also why there are cameras all over the lab, inside and out. What any of us do on our own time is our business. This is one thing I know Conrad wouldn't use against anyone, not even me, because I knew about their relationship early on and never said a word. My choice to not become involved with Sara had nothing to do with my being a superior; it was because I couldn't give her or be what she needed."

"Fair enough. Okay, since I've been pryin' into your personal life, here's your chance. You get a free shot at me. Ask whatever you want."

Oh, the possibilities. Questions ran through his mind in a second, ranging anywhere from "Do you like men?" to "Do you love me enough to let me fuck you right here?" to "Would it be too forward to ask you to come home and meet my mother?" Not that he would ever have the courage to ask those things, but still, it was nice to think about. "Hmm. Let's see," he said, drawing out the moment, trying to figure out what he wanted to know about Nick. "Talk to me about your family. You never talk about them much, and I find I'm curious about the people who helped make you the man you are now."

"You have no idea what you're gettin' yourself into, do you?" Nick asked with a chuckle. "I guess I'll start with the parents. My parents were always great when I was growin' up. I'm the baby of the family, and I wasn't exactly expected. The next youngest is my sister, Faith, and she's six years older than I am. Mom, Doreen, was nearly forty when she had me, which made my brother, the oldest, twenty when I was born. Mom didn't care, though, that I was unplanned. She loved me to death, especially since her pregnancy wasn't the easiest. They had to take me four weeks premature because of her blood pressure.

"My dad, Andrew, always told me he was so happy to have another son, especially when he thought they'd have no more children. Don't get me wrong, he adores my sisters, but he's always said he loved having another son because it helped cut down on the number of women in the family that outnumbered the men. It was his mom who came to live with us when I was little. She helped take care of me, especially at night, when I wouldn't go to sleep."

Gil laughed. "You have five sisters, don't you?" At least, that's what he remembered Nick telling him.

"Yeah, I do. Okay, sibs going down the line. Tony is comin' up on fifty-six, Elizabeth's fifty-two, Tanya is forty-eight, Marla is forty-five, Savannah's forty-three, and Faith's forty-one. They were all real protective of me while I was growin' up, and I was definitely the favorite of the siblings. Tony would spoil me rotten whenever he came home, and most of my sisters loved to dress me up in their clothes and make me play tea party, even if they were adults, thus my great aversion to dress-up kinks."

Gil smirked, suddenly understanding Nick's aversion to role-playing, particularly that of the Forever Baby persuasion. "Suddenly I'm feeling as if I know you."

"Oh, sure, make fun of me, Gris. It was horrible. You will never see me in high heels and skirts, believe me. I'll leave that up to Greg."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy every minute of it."

"That I don't doubt," Nick said, laughing. "Whatever gets him all hot and bothered, just as long as he doesn't expect me to join along. Anyway, I was well taken care of in childhood. We were a tight-knit group."

Gil caught the past tense usage in that last comment. "'Were?' You're not now?"

Glancing over, Gil saw Nick shrug and look out the window. "When everyone got older, things happened, people came into their own opinions on social matters, and it put a strain on the family. Things aren't what they used to be, but we all still get along pretty well."

Sensing that Nick didn't want to talk about anything concerning his family's dissention, he said, "Anything else you want to ask me?"

He could see the surprise on Nick's face clearly. "You're volunteering information about yourself? Are you all right? You didn't hit your head or anything, did you?"

Gil shook his head. "Every once in a great while, I find myself in a sharing mood. The problem is, most people don't sense these times and thus, they don't ask me questions. Lady Heather told me my greatest fear was that someone might know me, and she was right. It scares me that people might find out who I am, but even my strong defenses come down once in a while. It helps that I trust you not to go around blabbing what it is I've revealed to you." He turned his head briefly and gave Nick a pointed look, making sure he got the message.

"I promise, I won't say a word. Okay, tell me how you know how to sign."

Well, that was easy enough to answer, and he knew most of his team members, and Catherine's, were dying to know. "My mother's deaf, has been since she was eight years old. She taught me when I was old enough, even though she could read lips and speak. I kept it up, since I still speak with my hands when I see her, and from time to time it has proven useful in the workplace." Also, there was the whole nearly going deaf issue he'd had to deal with, but that was something he'd keep to himself for now.

"Wow. I never would have guessed. Do you see her often?" Nick asked.

"I try to spend a few days now and then with her. She lives in Santa Monica, so it's not like it's too far, and the plane fares between here and Los Angeles aren't bad. She comes out here on occasion as well. I'll have to bring her by the lab next time she does. She's getting irritated with me because I haven't brought her yet."

"I can't imagine anyone becoming irritated with you," Nick said, the teasing sarcasm dripping from every word.

Try as he might, he couldn't glare at Nick when he had that bright smile flashing his way. "I never said I was the most agreeable person," he groused, trying to keep the grin off his face, a problem he always seemed to have whenever Nick was in the vicinity.

"You're perfectly agreeable," Nick said, "but you really should bring her by. I'm sure she'd love to regale us with hours of "when Gil was a little boy" stories. Oh, yeah, tons of ammunition, man."

Gil felt a little queasy. "On second thought, I think I'll keep her locked up at my townhouse. I don't trust any of you, and I know she'll talk." Gil tried hard to fight the smile that threatened to break through. He was having so much fun, too much fun, more than he had a right to anyway. It had been a long time since he'd bantered with anyone, or even just sat down and had a conversation without feeling uncomfortable about it. The feeling was almost novel.

The sound of Nick's laughter was a soothing balm that calmed his nerves and made him feel like maybe it wasn't so bad to open up to those he trusted. At any rate, he could listen to Nick laugh forever and never get tired of it. "All right, I won't ask your momma about your embarrassin' secrets. At least not while you're nearby."

"Thank you. The last person I want to hear stories from my mother is Catherine. Or Brass. Can you imagine the jabs those two would get in on a daily basis?" Gil shuddered at the thought.

"Yeah, man, I understand. My mom's got plenty of those little Nick stories to share, and she tells anyone I know who wants to listen," Nick said. When he reached over to turn on the radio, Gil felt a rush of relief, since he didn't think he could do much more sharing at the moment. The little he'd done had thrown him off balance, which he desperately needed to regain before they got to the site. That Nick seemed to notice and was willing to move on caused a surge of affection to flow through Gil.

They spent the rest of the ride listening to the sounds of the local country station. Though he wasn't exactly fond of country music, Gil found he didn't really mind listening to it after all.

"Jim, what have we got?" Gil asked as he and Nick joined Brass. They were standing several feet away from the body.

"Male, Caucasian, looks to be about your age. There are definite signs of torture and sodomy. He looks to be somewhat emaciated. Once he was confirmed dead, we kept away. From what I've seen, it looks like he crawled here. We've got blood drops and drag marks coming from that direction. A woman who lives at the end of the street saw him when she was coming home and called 911."

While Brass spoke, Gil looked over Brass's shoulder and took in the scene. The body was lying to the side of the road. The victim was on his stomach, and it looked as if he'd collapsed mid-crawl, but it was difficult to see in the little light coming from the flashing lights of the police cars. "Where's the woman, now?" he asked as he stepped around Brass and ventured toward the body.

"Officer Meadows is with her now, taking a preliminary statement. We've taped off the crime scene as best as we can, but there's not much out here to adhere the tape to."

"Thanks, Brass. Nick, you go around the body that way. Carefully." Gil went the other direction, using his flashlight to check an area before walking through it.

"There are drag marks here, just like Brass said. Looks like hand prints as well," Nick said.

Gil looked up briefly to see Nick place a marker and pull out his camera. While Nick snapped some shots, Gil took a closer look at the body. "Well, he's naked, so there's definitely no form of identification on him. He's got a lot of blood and dirt around his face. I can't quite make out any features clearly." There was, however, something familiar about the man from what Gil could make out.

Nick swung his flashlight in the body's direction. "I wouldn't be too sure of that. There's a tattoo on his right cheek, near hip-level. It looks like one of those old Egyptian paintings, a bird head on a body. There's a name underneath." Nick stooped lower to take a closer look. "It says Mike."

Gil felt dread wash over him, and he had to swallow down the bile that tried to crawl up his throat. "His name is Michael Anderson."

"Oh, really? Who are you? Miss Cleo?" Nick said. "You wanna tell me how you know that, Mr. Psychic?"

Gil sighed and knelt down next to the body, tilting his head slightly to look at the face. Yes, he could see the face clearly now. "Because I know this man."

Chapter Three

"Wait a minute," Nick said, not quite believing what he'd just heard. "You know him? How?"

Nick watched Gil take out his camera and begin to shoot pictures of the body. After a few moments, just when Nick thought he wasn't going to get an answer, Gil spoke. "We went to college together at UCLA."

"I'm sorry, man. Look, you want someone else to take the case?" Nick already knew the answer, but he still felt the need to ask. Had to ask, because it could be viewed as a conflict of interest.

"No, I'll be fine," Gil said, as Nick had expected. He must have looked skeptical because Gil insisted, "Really, Nick, I'm okay."

Nick nodded and knelt back down to get to work. When he took a shot of the tattoo, Gil spoke again. "The tattoo is of the Egyptian god, Horus. Michael was fascinated by Egyptian mythology. I was with him the day he got that; I believe it was during our sophomore year."

"You get one as well?" Knowing he shouldn't ask didn't keep the question from slipping out. "Sorry, you don't have to answer that."

The fact that Gil answered nearly knocked Nick on his ass. "Yes, I did, and no, I won't tell you what it is. Now hush, and let me work. Oh, and please keep the fact that I was once young and impulsive enough to get a tattoo to yourself. The last thing I need is Catherine or Greg wanting to get a peek at something I did during my younger years."

"Come on, Gris. Like I would ever tell," Nick said as he started tagging and photographing the bloodstains. Like anyone would ever believe me anyway, he thought to himself. None of them would believe Gil had opened up to him, since Gil never talked to anyone about anything, but here Nick was, privy to what seemed to be a mountain of information about Gil, more than anyone else had ever gotten out of him in a year. That in itself was worth him keeping his mouth shut.

"Gris, these stains lead up toward that property," Nick said after several minutes. When Gil's head turned in his direction, he nodded toward the house closest to them, though it was still quite a distance away, at least a couple of thousand feet. The house was the only one on the right side of the road, and it seemed as if someone still lived in it. The grounds didn't appear to be run down, at any rate, and Nick thought he could just make out a light coming from somewhere deep in the house. "The front door is open," he said out loud when he realized just what he was seeing.

Nick trotted back to the Chevy and pulled out the night vision goggles. "Yeah, the front door is open," he confirmed when he went back for another look. Zooming in further, he noticed dark spots on the front porch. "It looks like there might be small pools of blood on the porch, just in front of the door.

"You're going to need a warrant," Brass said as he walked up behind Gil. "David's on his way to collect the body. If you two finish up out here, I'll run into town and get that warrant. I've already taken the liberty of calling Judge Walker. He'll have it ready by the time I get there."

"What does the warrant cover?" Gil asked.

"I told him the condition of the body and about the trail, and he's given us a blanket warrant for the entire property and everything on it. The house, outlying buildings, the cars, everything. I just gotta go and get it."

"Don't let us keep you," Gil said, not looking up. Seeing the confused look on Brass's face, Nick shook his head. Gil, he knew, would tell Brass that he knew the guy when Gil wanted to; Nick wasn't going to do it and blow Gil's newfound openness with him. He might not be anywhere near Gil's caliber of smart, but he wasn't stupid, either.

"All right, then," Brass said, "I'll be back before you miss me."

While Gil took detailed notes of the body's position and condition, Nick sketched the scene and began tagging and photographing all the bloodstains he could find, making sure not to pass what he presumed was the boundary to the property. They worked without words, content to get the area finished so they could proceed to the property as soon as Brass returned. He'd just finished taking blood samples when David got to the scene.

"Hey, David," Nick said, acknowledging his arrival. "We haven't touched the body."

"Hey, Nick, Mr. Grissom," David greeted them as he knelt down next to the body. "Any evidence you need to take before I get to work?"

Gil shook his head. "No. The victim seems to have dragged himself from the house to here. Whatever is left on his body that isn't his own blood is buried underneath the dirt. I'm going to have Greg meet you at the coroner's office as soon as he's done with the evidence collection for the rape he's working. I want him there for evidence collection before you clean the body or start the autopsy."

"Yes, sir," David said. "This victim is really messed up."

Nick went back to documenting, keeping one eye on David and Gil while David began his preliminary examination of the body.

"The victim has several lacerations over his arms, legs, abdomen and back. The torn flesh around his wrists and ankles seems to indicate he was tied up. There are numerous marks and bruises around his neck and torso." David moved to the back of the victim. "You saw this tattoo?"

"Yeah, we saw it," Nick said, glancing up at Gil, who was taking pictures as David moved the body around.

David bent down and spread Michael's cheeks. "Fuck!" he spat, nearly falling over as he scrambled to get up.

Nick reached over and steadied him before he could run into the trail Nick was working. "What is it?"

"The victim has severe trauma to the anal region, some of the worst I've ever seen. My guess is that someone sodomized him regularly for an extended period of time, and I don't think it was all done with parts that God gave us. This damage isn't what you'd normally find with a male who was regularly an active participant in anal sex. Robbins will have to tell you more about it after he does the autopsy. That's all I can tell you now. I couldn't give you any idea what might have killed him. That's for Robbins to figure out."

Nick nodded, seeing that Gil was looking a little pale. "Thanks, man. I think we've got everything we need from him. You can move him now."

As David motioned for the gurney, Gil, having composed himself, said, "Make sure Robbins and Greg take detailed photographs of the victim, before and after he's been cleaned. I don't want one inch of this body unaccounted for."

"Yes, sir." Nick and Gil stepped back as the body was bagged.

"You okay?" Nick murmured while they waited for David to have the body wheeled away. Gil was still looking pale, so Nick pulled off his gloves and placed one arm lightly around Gil's shoulders. "You wanna sit down or somethin'?"

"No, I'll be fine," Gil said. "I have to admit, I'm a little shocked. I actually thought about him a couple of weeks ago when I was going through an old box of stuff looking for one of my college textbooks. This is the last place I ever expected to see him."

"I'm sorry," Nick said, squeezing Gil's shoulder, mildly surprised Gil hadn't pulled away from him. Of course, the man had just found an old friend again in the world's worst worst-case scenario, and some little voice in the back of Nick's head was telling him there was more to Gil and Michael's story than just an old college friendship. It wasn't his place to pry, however, and if Gil wanted to tell him, he would. "Were you close?" So much for not prying.

"Yes, we were. We became friends the first week at UCLA and we lived on the same floor of the dorms. We were both biology majors, so we had most of the same classes. When we graduated, I stayed in California to work as a coroner, and Michael went to the East Coast to pursue his Masters and his Doctorate. We lost touch about twenty years ago. The last I'd heard, he and his partner were in New York City and he was teaching genetics at NYU."

"I wonder what he was doing here," Nick said as he watched David drive away. "Vegas is a long way from New York City."

"I don't know, but we're going to have to find out. First, we need to get onto that property. Maybe some of the answers are there," Gil said, stepping away and wandering toward the house. Nick let his arm fall to his side and followed him. They stopped at the edge of the property.

"You think anyone's there?" Nick asked when the silence went on too long.

"I honestly don't know. I wouldn't think so, since Michael managed to crawl away from whomever did this to him. A man in Michael's condition wouldn't be able to keep quiet as he escaped, and I would think the perpetrator would have stopped him from getting to the door, much less leaving."

Silence drifted between them for a few moments, the only sound in the area coming from the officers standing fifty feet away, where they were talking quietly to each other. It was so quiet that when a bird let out a loud screech above their heads, Nick nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Alas, Nicky, you scare far too easily," Gil said with a soft chuckle. "I need to call Greg. You may want to take the time to compose yourself. Birds of prey can sense your fear."

"Ha-ha. Don't quit your night job, amateur comedian," Nick retorted. As Gil walked off, Nick slumped his shoulders and shook his head. How embarrassing, being scared by a bird in front of your boss.

Hearing Gil speaking to Greg in the background, Nick took the time to flick on his flashlight and follow Michael's trail. Even though he'd been found at the end of the driveway, it didn't look like he'd followed it.

"What are you looking at?"

Whirling around to glare at Gil after being scared witless, Nick said, "Do you have to do that? Do you get off on seein' me jump a foot in the air?" When the only response he garnered was a quirk of the eyebrow and a slight twitch of the lips, Nick let loose an exasperated sigh and said, "It appears Michael crawled a straight line from the front door to here. See where the driveway starts to curve off to the left? The pattern doesn't follow it. It seems to go down that slight embankment, but after that, I can't see it too clearly."

Nick shoved the flashlight into Gil's hand and took up the night vision binoculars again. "Yep, he definitely made a straight line from the doorway. There are cacti, rocks, and who knows what else that he had to crawl through."

"All he wanted was to be away from there. Michael didn't care if he hurt himself. All he wanted was to get away."

The words were said in such a soft, sad tone that Nick was at a loss for words. What did one say to that? Nick floundered, trying to figure out something supportive, but at that moment they heard a car pull up. "Brass is back. Jeez, that was fast."

"I do hope you refrained from mowing over any innocent pedestrians," Gil said as Brass stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut.

"Don't worry, they got out of the way in time. I would think you'd be happy I hauled ass with this."

"Not if it's going to get you or someone else killed. But since you are back, let's get moving. Let's start with the trail Michael made from here and work our way up to the house. Brass, if you and your officers would be so kind as to go and check the house for any suspects or victims?"

"Sure. I'll holler if I find anyone."

It took the better part of an hour to photograph and tag the blood trail. Gil went through it with Nick methodically, carefully keeping his mind off the fact that he was retracing Michael's last step, because thinking about his former lover and best friend pawing his way across this terrain while terrified for his life made bile leap into his throat.

They had backtracked and were standing halfway between the street and the house when Brass came back and said they'd gone over the entire property and had found no one else, but that the blood went all the way upstairs. "I think we pinpointed the room where Michael originally escaped. You've gotta see it to believe it. One of my guys is over there hurling in the bushes."

"Is there a lot of blood or something?" Gil asked. He didn't think either of the officers at the scene was new to homicide, since he thought he remembered working with at least one of them several times before, and the other seemed vaguely familiar.

"No, with the exception of what the victim left behind. It's more like the photographs lovingly plastered all over the walls and the torture implements gracing the surgical table in the corner that made a ten-year veteran of the LVPD lose his lunch. I was hard-pressed to keep my own meal down."

"Man, it must really be bad, if you're admitting to nausea," Nick said. Gil was inclined to agree, since Jim Brass had been at the job so long he had a stomach virtually made of steel.

"You know what, why don't we call in Warrick to finish up the work on the perimeter while you and I take the house?" Gil said to Nick as he pulled out his phone.

"I think you should call for Catherine as well," Brass suggested. "There are a couple of rooms locked from the outside we weren't able to get into, and a lot of things in there you're gonna want to see."

"Such as?" Gil asked. "Hi, Warrick, could you hang on just a moment? Thanks. You were saying?"

"Whoever lives here has a ton of home movies, on video and DVD. We're talking hundreds. There's a dark room filled with developed photographs, some pricey, high-tech computer equipment, and the crème de la crème, a basement filled with bookshelves, which contain hundreds of binders and notebooks of various sizes. We didn't touch anything, but there was one sitting on the table, opened to the last page. I think those binders and notebooks are journals. What I saw on the open pages made me want to puke."

"We might be dealing with a serial killer," Gil said softly. Stomach tied up in knots and his adrenaline starting to race, Gil raised his phone. "Warrick?"

"Hey, man, you guys gotta serial?"

"You heard that, did you?" Gil could hear the morbid excitement they all felt when cases like this came up. Serial cases always presented a challenge and were puzzles that could take months, years even to figure out before the suspect was finally caught, if he ever was. He couldn't fault Warrick for his piqued interest, since he'd be feeling pretty much the same way if he hadn't found his former lover dead on the side of the road, horribly abused and mutilated.

"Yeah, I heard. I take it you need me out there?"

"Yes, we need you out here if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Where are you guys at?"

"We're on Trinity Road, forty miles west of Vegas. Call Catherine and tell her to get out here ASAP." Nick and Brass were discussing what to do about the house, so Gil stepped away from them so he could hear Warrick better.

"Okay, but what about Sara? You know she's gonna be chompin' at the bit to get out there and dig right in. You want her there?"

"No, tell Sara to stay in town for the moment. I want to see what we're dealing with first. We might need her to bring more supplies or take care of something from that end. I have no idea what we're dealing with here. Have her call Ecklie and tell him to have the day shift on call, in case they're needed. This crime scene may take a while to process."

"All right, Gris, but Sara's gonna flip. I wouldn't be surprised if you got a phone call from her. Anyway, I'll be right there. You need anything?"

"You might want to raid the lab for extra supplies, fingerprinting kits, extra swabs and bindles. Oh, and bring a lot of big evidence boxes. And some paper bags."

Warrick laughed. "You want me to bring the entire lab?"

"If it's feasible. Do you know if Greg's there yet?"

"He's down at the coroner's processing that body you sent over. He dropped off the sexual assault kit from his victim about fifteen minutes ago and headed right over to Robbins."

"Good. Could you tell him to come out here as soon as he's done collecting and logging in the evidence? Give him the directions, since I don't think he's ever been out here."

"Will do. You do know that once Sara hears you've called Greg out, she's going to have a litter, don't you?"

Yeah, Gil knew she'd be pissed off, and she'd probably try to take it out on Warrick but he'd deal with it. "It's my call, and I want her there for the moment. If she has a problem, tell her to call me and I'll tell her myself. If this is what I think it is, I don't have the time or the patience to deal with her tirades. Just do what I ask, and leave her to me, okay?"

"You're the boss. I'll see you in a few."

Gil hung up the phone and put it in his pocket. He was sorely tempted to put it on silent or turn it off altogether, because his gut instinct-and dealing with Sara on a daily basis for years-told him she wasn't going to take sitting by the phone and twiddling her thumbs very well. The stares he was getting from Brass and Nick when he turned around told him they were thinking the same thing.

Nick turned to Brass. "Ten bucks says she calls in five minutes."

"Twenty says it'll take ten minutes for her to quit frothing at the mouth before she can pick up a phone," Brass replied dryly.

"I'll take that bet," Nick said with a grin.

Gil sighed in exasperation and picked up his kit. "Come along, children, we've got a case to cover."

As Gil approached the house, he examined the outer portion, now that it was easier to see, since the clouds had passed and the light of the full moon lit the area. It was a large residence, two stories tall, and it looked like there was also an attic. "Did you check the attic?"

"We couldn't find an entry way. We thought it might be in one of the locked rooms. Carson went to get some bolt cutters from the car," Brass informed him.

Gil was slightly surprised to see Brass walking beside him. He hadn't heard him or Nick come up. Turning his attention back to the house, he said, "The windows of the attic seem to be boarded up. The front windows on the first and second floor are either foiled over or they have blackout curtains. The paint doesn't seem to be chipped, so whomever lives here takes care of the place."

"The inside is well cared-for as well," Brass said.

"Think we'll get prints?" Nick asked.

"I think you'll get a butt load of prints, Nicky, my boy. There are plenty of surfaces in that house designed for collecting prints, so unless our perpetrator wore gloves 24/7 or is obsessive compulsive about cleaning off his prints, we should hit pay-dirt."

"Good. Maybe we'll get lucky and the guy'll be in AFIS," Nick said.

Gil was only half listening to them. As they came into the grass-covered area of the front yard, his eyes focused on a pool of blood on the porch, one larger than any of the ones they'd seen. "It looks like Michael rested here for a few minutes before dragging himself down the stairs. Let's do a preliminary walkthrough, and see what it is we're getting ourselves into. Please step carefully."

Entering the premises, Gil stared down the long dark hallway. There was a light coming from a room near the end of the hallway, to the left. "You know where that light is coming from?"

"Yeah, that's the kitchen. The light was already on, and we didn't turn on any other lights. We left everything just as it was, don't worry."

"I'm never worried when you're on the scene of a homicide I'm working," Gil said, shining his flashlight into the first room to the left, the living room. It seemed to be a normal room: black leather sofa with oak end tables on either end; a white, plush chair in the back left corner of the room, one of those chairs you'd sink down into about two feet when you sat in it; a black leather love seat centered in front of the left wall; matching oak coffee tables in front of the sofa and loveseat; television in the front right corner of the room. No pictures on the wall, but there were two paintings, replicas of Van Gogh's Starry Night and one of Picasso's abstracts-Gil wasn't sure which one, since he'd never been a Picasso fan and hadn't bothered to memorize them by sight. Still, he hated not knowing, so he made a mental note to check online once he got back to the office.

Gil backed out of the room and went directly across the hall, where Nick was having a look around. There was a lot in this room, much of it that high-tech gadgetry Brass had been talking about. The wall to the left of the entryway was lined with long tables. On top were various pieces of audio-visual equipment, and at the end furthest from them, there was a top-of-the-line computer, with every piece of equipment one could possibly buy. Gil had toyed with the idea of getting all the things this computer probably held, but it was just too much to spend on a piece of machinery. "This man has money," Gil said out loud.

"Yeah, he does, if he can afford this equipment. And I thought we had some of the best," Nick said. "We've got a dark room here in the corner."

Letting Nick worry about the dark room, Gil headed for the opposite side of the room and stood in front of the bookshelf that lined the front right corner of the room. It was one of those corner shelves, about three feet wide each direction. Each row was filled with DVDs, except for the bottom two, which were lined with VHS tapes, and all of them were obviously home videos. Gil pulled one out and looked at the cover. Staring back at him was the eerie face of a man younger than Greg, but not nearly so full of life. If anything, he looked like he was ready for life to be over, would beg for someone to end it for him if he had the choice. Under the haunting portrait was a name, "Trent".

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

Gil's head snapped to the left so fast that it wouldn't surprise him if he got whiplash. Sliding the DVD back where he'd found it, he stepped in front of the dark room, stopping short when Nick all but fell into his arms. He might enjoy it if Nick's entire body wasn't shaking like he'd been zapped by Mr. Freeze. "What's wrong?"

He watched as Nick visibly got a hold of himself. "There are pictures in there. Lots of them. Whoever lives here, what he's doin' to these guys. God, Gris, I've never seen anything like it."

After making sure Nick was able to stand on his own, Gil brushed by him and stepped into the dark room, flicking off his flashlight since the proper lighting was already on. He looked at the photographs, a sick feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

Many of the scenes before him wouldn't be unusual in a place such as Lady Heather's, but it was plain that the men in these pictures weren't in it for the pleasure of being dominated. The terror was apparent in each and every shot, every picture was designed to show the pain and torment with which each had been afflicted. These men were cut, bruised, whipped, and had things shoved in places where they were never designed to go. The person inflicting these horrors was a man, just as Gil had presumed, a fact confirmed by the naked male visible, with the exception of his face, in almost all the photos that Gil could see. The shots that had disturbed Brass and Nick the most, however, were the ones of their killer visibly removing the genitalia of his victims. That the men were obviously dead at that point (or very nearly so) was only the tiniest consolation.

Gil stepped out of the room again, stamping down on his own urge to turn green. "Let's check the rest of the first floor," he said to Nick, who was scanning the bookshelf as he had been doing only a moment before.

"What did he do with the…parts he amputated?" Nick asked, sounding as if it physically pained him to say it. It very well might have, because parts of Gil's own anatomy were giving off sympathetic pangs, too.

"I'm sure that we'll find out sooner or later," Gil said, stepping out into the hallway again. The dining room didn't hold anything particularly ominous, but the master bedroom across the hallway held more of the DVDs and videos, as well as several photo albums. A quick perusal of one showed more pictures of men in nonconsensual sexual acts.

In the kitchen, Gil opened the freezer. "Well, I found out where some of those parts ended up," he said, closing the lid and stepping away. "Looks like there's some bags of blood in there as well."

"I think this might be blood in the fridge," Nick said.

Gil turned as the he heard the refrigerator door close. "I'm willing to bet that all the prints in here belong to our suspect. I seriously doubt he let any of his victims come in here."

"You're probably right."

Brass stuck his head inside the door. "The pantry and another bathroom are back here, and so are the stairs. Anyone else find it odd that the stairs are in the back corner of the house?"

Gil shrugged. "Whoever designed it may have preferred it that way," he said, passing Brass and heading up the stairs. The room on the right was padlocked, and when the officer held up the bolt cutters, Gil shook his head. He wanted to check out the rest of the open areas before worrying about rooms that were locked from the outside. There was a bathroom and another locked room on the right, this one locked with a deadbolt. Gil turned to the doors on the left and stepped inside a room that took up that whole side of the house. It was obvious that any walls that had once been there had been knocked down long ago.

At once he understood why the officer had revisited his lunch. The blown-up photographs framed on the walls were designed to strike fear in the heart of any man who was dragged in here for their suspect's perverse pleasure. Men hung up by chains, deep welts cutting across their backsides, from the base of their necks down to their ankles, the wounds dripping blood down their bodies. Other pictures showed the same, except down the front this time, and the only place not covered in wounds was around the penile area. Gil figured it had something to do with the penises and the scrotums in the freezer.

Other photos showed their subjects in various stages of sexual torture. Gil had to look away, focus his attention on the other evidence in the room. And this room was indeed a fount of evidence. There were surgical tools and kitchen knives lined up on a rolling tray, near what appeared to be a modified operating table. Interspersed among the two long walls were chains and manacles. One set of them, the ones between the two sets of doors leading to the hallway, had puddles of blood underneath, with bits of flesh in the middle of the pools. Gil had noted there were chunks torn from Michael's hands and wrists. "I'm fairly sure this was where Michael was being held."

"This is definitely the central area of this guy's operation," Brass said. "Well, Gil, you want to go ahead and open the other doors?"

Gil nodded as he set his kit on the floor. "Yes, that would be good. We'll start in this room, Nick, and work our way out."

"Okay, Gris," Nick said, setting his kit down on the other side of the room. Suddenly, a loud thump came from overhead. "There's someone up there," Nick whispered.

Nodding, Gil said, "Nicky, stay here. We'll go up there." Gil left Nick to get started and followed Brass back into the hallway. "Let's try the room nearest the stairs. The attic stairs are probably through there." There they found the other officer waiting for them.

"Yeah, who knows what or who this bastard's got up there," Brass muttered. "Wouldn’t it be nice if he were up there, ready to turn himself in? Patterson, would you do the honors? Randall, wait down here. We'll call you if we need you."

Gil stayed behind Brass, waiting until Patterson snapped the lock. Gil reached around Brass and took the lock, bagging and labeling it while Brass and Patterson inspected the room. "There's a set of stairs in the closet," Brass said as he poked his head out of the room. "There's also another lock. Could you be a dear and hand me the bolt cutters?"

"Yes, honeybunch," Gil retorted, slapping the tool into Jim's palm. "Am I free to come in now?"

"Knock yourself out."

"I try not to. It tends to bother my team when I do that," Gil said, shining his flashlight around the room. The stale scent of sex permeated Gil's nostrils. This was obviously the place where their suspect had some sort of sexual activities with his victims. Often, if the thick odor and lack of cleanliness were any indication.

Hearing the cutters snap through the lock, Gil headed up the stairs, careful not to run into the back of Brass and cause some sort of ascending domino effect. Following Brass and Patterson in the room, he was shocked to hear a hoarse "Help me" come from across the room. Rushing in, the three of them found two men, one lying on the bed unconscious, and the other, the one who'd called out for help, lying on the floor.

Chapter Four

"We need the paramedics up here! Get them to this scene now!" Gil yelled down the stairwell to Randall below. At the same time, he heard a high-pitched wail and Nick scream in the distance, "I have a live one here! I need the paramedics, now!"

Gil had the feeling that Nick had managed to get the other door downstairs open. Hoping Nick had his situation under control, Gil rushed back to the man who'd collapsed on the floor. Gil helped him onto the bed to make him more comfortable. "It's going to be okay. We're from the Las Vegas Crime Lab, we're here to help you. Just lie still. Help will be here before you know it." Gil glanced over at Brass, who was kneeling by the other man who was chained to the bed. "Is he alive?"

Brass nodded. "Yeah, he is, but he's in pretty bad shape. His pulse seems to be strong, though, so I think he'll be physically fine once we get him into the hospital and have him treated. He's drifting in and out of consciousness. He's weak, so I don't think he'll put up much of a fight. We need to get these chains removed."

"They're fairly thin," Gil said, examining the chains on his own victim. "I think the bolt cutters should work, at least to get them unattached from the wall. I don't know if we can cut through the manacles with them."

"We could try to pick the locks," Brass said. "We've got the time, since it'll be a while before the EMTs get here."

"There have to be some keys around here somewhere," Gil said.

"Game…room…"

Gil looked down at the young man on the bed. "Game room? There are keys in there?"

The young man nodded. "Saw…him…closet…"

"Okay, I'm going to go down there and look in the closet. Detective Brass will be right here, so don't worry. I'll be right back. What's your name?"

"Tyler."

"Okay, Tyler, you hang in there," Gil said softly, patting Tyler's hand carefully. "Jim, I'm going downstairs to check on Nick and try to find the keys."

Gil rushed down the stairs, making sure he was careful enough not to disturb anything around him. Randall was down the hall, speaking on his radio, calling in three ambulances. Trusting that the officer had the situation under control, he headed down the hallway. "Nick, where are you?" he called out.

"In here," Nick called back, one hand waving out of the room furthest from Gil. Gil went to him and peered around the doorway; he saw Nick standing near the door, perfectly still. A second later he realized why.

"Who is that?" Gil whispered, his eyes shifting to Nick briefly before settling back onto the woman huddling in the corner, staring at them as if they were devils incarnate.

"I have no idea," Nick whispered back, stepping closer to Gil. "She screams any time I get any closer to her. Whoever she is, she's completely terrified, and I don't know what to do. I'm afraid that if I do get close to her, she'll end up hurting herself or me. What the hell is she doing locked in this room?"

"A question to which I have no answer," Gil said. "I've got two men upstairs, both of them in bad shape, but I don't think they're mortally wounded. Randall is calling in three ambulances, so perhaps it's best if we wait for them to get here before we try to move her. Why don't you just stay here and talk to her. You're good with people, and you have one of those voices that soothes a person, so why don't you use it to your advantage. Talk to her, tell her who you are, what we're doing here, that we're going to help her. Maybe by the time the EMTs get here, she'll have calmed down a little."

"What are we supposed to do about the chains?" Nick asked, pointing to restraints similar to those on the men upstairs.

"One of the survivors said he kept the keys in the game room, in a closet. I'm guessing that the room across the hall. I'm going to see if I can find them and get the two upstairs untied. Try to get her to settle down. I'll come back with the keys and we can unlock her."

Nick nodded. "All right."

Gil stripped off his gloves and placed them in a bag before swiping a new pair from Nick's kit, since it was nearer than his. Ignoring the "toys" in the wall-length closet, he focused on finding what he was looking for. He did not want to think about any of these things being used on Michael, did not want to imagine Michael's face when the hooks on a nearby whip tore the skin of his back, did not want to hear the screams in the back of his mind. Keys that looked like what he was looking for were quickly found and he made sure the closet was firmly closed before leaving the room.

"Randall, the ambulances should be able to come up the driveway to the house, but make sure they're careful of the evidence on the front porch. I want nothing disturbed if at all possible. Warrick and Catherine should be here soon, so send them up as soon as they get here," Gil said as he turned into the room and went up the stairs to the attic. "Found 'em," Gil said, dangling the key ring from his index finger.

"Good, because this kid has started convulsing, and I have no idea what the hell I'm supposed to do for him," Brass said as he pinned the unconscious man with his body.

"The paramedics are on their way, so all we can do is make sure he doesn't hurt himself, and keep his passageway clear. He's breathing?" Gil asked, examining the keys.

"Yeah, he's breathing. Sometime today would be nice, Gil."

"Working on it," Gil said, trying one key, then another. "There are a lot of keys, all of them the same make. It might take a few minutes." Fifth key in, the locks snapped open and he carefully removed metal from wrist, wincing as the raw skin peeled from the edges of the iron.

It took about ten minutes to remove the bindings from both men. "I have to go back downstairs, Jim. Nick's got a petrified girl in that other locked room. He's trying to talk her into calming down, but she's in chains as well. I need to get those off her, if I can keep her from clawing my eyes out while I do it."

"Yeah, go on. He seems fine now, and Tyler looks like he's falling asleep. I think we can manage without you."

A short time later, Gil entered the room with Nick. Nick still stood by the door, but the girl didn't look so panicked now. She still huddled in the corner, however. Placing a hand on Nick's shoulder and giving it a squeeze, Gil didn't feel the least bit guilty getting comfort from the feel of Nick's warmth under his hand as he asked, "How's it going?"

"Better, I think. She hasn't said anything, but she doesn't have that wild look in her eyes anymore. Did you get those guys unchained?"

"Yes. Do you think she'll let you near enough to get those off?" Gil handed Nick the keys.

"I can try. Maybe you should step outside, so she doesn't feel like we're gangin' up on her."

Gil nodded and gave Nick's shoulder another squeeze before letting his hand fall to his side. "I'll be right outside the door, in case you need some help."

Gil listened to the warm, dulcet tones of Nick's voice as he tried to sweet-talk the girl into letting him closer. The words went through one ear and out the other, since he didn't care what Nick was saying, as long as it worked and Nick didn't get hurt in the process. A slight cough woke him out of his zone, and he looked up to see Warrick and Catherine standing at the end of the hallway. He hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes while listening to Nick.

Gil beckoned them closer and kept his voice low. "Good, you're here. Warrick, I need you to go outside and work the perimeter. Check the outbuildings and the entire yard. Don't leave anything unturned. Examine every inch of the ground."

"You got it, Gris. I'll start with the buildings. It's getting close to dawn, so I'll wait to check the grounds until then, when I can actually see what I'm lookin' at," Warrick turned on his heel and strode away.

"Catherine, I want you to start on the front porch and work your way up the stairs and down the hallway. That's the path Michael took when he crawled from this room," he said, pointing to the room across from them, "and I want you to get a start on it, because the paramedics will be here shortly."

"Michael?" Catherine asked.

"Michael Anderson is the name of the victim who was found at the edge of the driveway."

"First name basis?"

He should have known she'd pick up on that. "He was a friend from college. I haven't seen him for twenty years."

"Maybe you shouldn't be dealing with that aspect of the case, since you knew him personally," Catherine said.

"Catherine, I'll be fine. Really. Could you go and get to work? As soon as I know Nick's got this under control, I'll start on the blood trail up here, and we can meet somewhere in the middle."

The look she gave him said that Catherine didn't necessarily believe him, or that she didn't think his heading Michael's case was his most brilliant idea, but she didn't oppose him on it, so he could live with that. "All right."

"Hurry up, though, or we're going to have people tromping through our evidence," said Gil.

He didn't wait for her to leave before going back to check on Nick. He was kneeling next to the girl, who was sobbing quietly as he worked. "You okay, Nicky?"

Nick looked up and gave him a brief smile. "Yeah, we're okay. Did you want me to keep her in here or take her outside to wait for the ambulance?"

"In here. She might bolt if she goes outside, and I don't want her hurting herself. Just keep her calm. It shouldn't be much longer. I'm going to go ahead and get started on the scene."

He worked quickly and quietly, sketching the blood patterns in the hallway, then photographing and swabbing each pool of blood and picking up each piece of evidence. He wasn't going to let anything by him. He wanted this bastard, wanted to see him pay for what he'd done to his victims. Catherine was right, he knew, when she said he was too close to deal with the case, at least the part that dealt with Michael, but he wasn't willing to give it up just yet. If it got to be too much, he'd hand off dealing with Michael to Nick.

Gil was photographing near the top of the stairs when he heard the sirens coming down the road and up the driveway. He swabbed and labeled one last blood drop before moving his kit and his evidence bags out of the way. "Nick, the EMTs are here," he called out.

"We've got a girl in the room at the end of the hall, and two men upstairs in the attic, through this door," he said as three paramedic teams came upstairs, carrying stretchers. "The girl can probably walk, but I don't think the men will be able to. All three have been highly traumatized mentally, so keep your voices low."

All nodded their understanding and separated, two teams going into the attic and one to the room where Nick kept the girl company. The girl was the first to leave, Nick guiding her through the house once he was given the okay. He was back upstairs in a matter of minutes. "I'll get started on the room now," Nick said.

"Thanks, Nicky. I'll be in there as soon as I finish on the stairs."

Ten minutes passed before the other two teams came down from the attic, the men tied to the stretchers. Brass came down with them. "All clear, Gil. I'll get out of your way and get some tape up around the property. I'm sure the media'll be getting a hold of this story soon, if they haven't already."

"One dead man and two others who have obviously been beaten, tortured, and raped, and a girl who has been mentally traumatized to the point of hysteria, locked in rooms? We're talking about having a media feeding frenzy on our hands. I've seen great whites with better manners."

"I'll call for two more officers and tell dispatch to stand by, in case we need them," Brass said as he navigated down the stairs.

As soon as the last paramedic left the premises and the sound of the sirens had died down, Gil flipped open his cell phone and dialed Sara's number directly. "Hello, Sara?"

"Grissom? Why the hell am I here, sitting in the office doing nothing? I should be out there helping you with the scene."

"Yes, Sara, I realize that, but I needed you there. We've got three survivors heading into Lake Mead Hospital's ER. You need to get there as soon as possible. I need you to make sure you get complete SAE kits from each of them, and we need blood samples from each."

"Why can't Greg do it? I have seniority over him and am better suited to work that scene than he is. Let him go over to the hospital. Robbins can take care of the evidence, or someone from homicide can do it."

Moments like this always made Gil wish he'd never brought Sara to Las Vegas in the first place. Rubbing his temples and relying on his patience, he said, "One, because he's already at the morgue taking evidence from our victim. Two, he deserves to be out here since he's worked hard since the day he came out into the field. And three, because I said so, which is the only reason I really had to give you. If you don't like it, then deal with it on your own time. Now, are you going to do as I asked, or do you want to be replaced by someone on day shift?" When he got no answer, which was as good as one, he went on. "Once you get those kits finished, take them into the lab, and then you can head out here."

"All right, Grissom," Sara said, though she still sounded a little put out. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Good. Make sure the nurses are very thorough with those kits. I want all the evidence off those men. The woman, make sure they profile her sexual history. Goodbye, Sara."

"Bye."

Gil finished the stairs and headed into the room where Nick was working. They worked side by side silently for about an hour and a half until Warrick interrupted them.

"Gil, can I see you outside for a minute?"

"Sure, Warrick," Gil said, straightening up and taking off his gloves. He picked up a clean pair before following Warrick out of the room. "What can I do for you?"

"There are three buildings not attached to the house. I checked the garage, but there's nothing in there, just normal garage stuff. Looks like whoever lives here always parks in the garage, cause there's an oil spot. Some of the oil is fresh, but there's a large, dark stain underneath that area."

"Well, I know you didn't pull me out of the house to check out an oil stain."

Warrick laughed. "Naw, man. There's nothing disturbing about an oil stain."

"You found something disturbing?" Gil doubted anything Warrick had found would disturb him any more than what he'd already seen.

"The tool shed behind the garage is full of garden tools. Now, he has a garden, but he also has an abnormal amount of picks, shovels, and he even has a small backhoe. Still, it's the other two sheds that caught my attention. Come on, let me show you."

Gill slipped on his sunglasses as he stepped outside. The sun had broken over the horizon about an hour ago and now sat low in the sky at the perfect angle to blind poor, unsuspecting eyes. They turned left and went around the house to the back. Warrick stepped into the shed on the left and came out with a box.

"There are probably a couple hundred boxes, some small, like a child's shoebox, others pretty big. All the ones I've checked so far have personal items in them. See?" Warrick lifted the lid and pulled out a wallet. The driver's license inside it had to be at least twenty years old, issued from California. The photo was of a young man, eighteen years old according to the license, with brown hair and hazel eyes. Jewelry and glasses also nestled in the box, as well as a pair of underwear.

"Each box contains stuff from different people, all men from the fifty or so I've already checked. Each box carries a number. I didn't know what to think of it until after the sun came up and I went out back, behind the shed." Warrick closed the box and walked behind the shed. Gil followed.

"I was taking a break, about to start scouring the perimeter, when I noticed the small piles of rock. These rocks aren't the kind you're likely to find in this area, so I took a closer look." Warrick knelt down next to one of the rock piles. When Gil knelt down next to him, Warrick pointed to a small number etched on the face of the top rock. "Each of these piles has a number on them, too light to see unless you get down and look. I've found rocks from every corresponding box I've inspected."

Gil stood up and looked around the area. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see piles of stones all around them, spreading out across the yard and into the desert behind him.

Warrick stood beside him. "When I saw these, knowing what's in those boxes, I realized there was only one conclusion."

Gil nodded, understanding Warrick's meaning. A shiver ran up his spine as he said, "We're standing in a graveyard."

Chapter Five

Wincing as he stood, Gil realized he was getting too old to kneel down for over an hour without moving. Printing and swabbing every room in the house was going to be the death of him, if he didn't take a small break now and then. Gil snapped off his gloves and clapped Nick on the shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. He really needed to keep his hands off Nick, but he couldn't manage to do it. It was as if he needed to assure himself that his Nicky was safe, after finding Michael like that. Never mind the fact that he and Nick weren't more than friends, and never mind that Nick wasn't in any danger from their killer. He really needed to get a grip on himself. "I'm going outside for a minute to see how Warrick's doing. I'll be back soon. Catherine's in the next room if you need anything."

"All right," Nick said, barely hearing him because he was so intent on his work, which was something Gil greatly admired in him. Once Nick got focused, you practically had to pry him away. Leaving Nick to dust for prints, Gil went downstairs, carefully sidestepping the bloodstains. He pushed aside the nauseous feeling he got whenever he thought too much about the fact that it was a former lover's blood he was looking at, and walked to the back of the house and out the door.

He found Warrick standing near the left shed, looking out toward the graveyard. They were waiting for the proper machinery and more men to come before they started their excavations and until then, Warrick was bagging evidence from the sheds. "How are you doing, Warrick?" Gil asked, coming up to stand beside him.

"Hey, Gris. I'm fine, I guess. I'm really not looking forward to this, man. If each of those boxes in the shed corresponds to a grave, then that means there's nearly two hundred bodies buried here. How can this guy have killed so many people and no one have noticed?"

"I don't know. That's what we're here for, to find out what happened to these people."

Warrick shook his head and looked down at the ground. "I just don't understand why people like him do these things. Damn, Gris, this is just sick."

Gil sighed and stared out over the vast graveyard in their midst. "We don't have to understand why. When dealing with a psychopath, the worst thing you can do is try to figure out the why, because he is the only one who knows or understands his motives. What we do need to concentrate on is collecting the bodies and the evidence, and then we figure out who this man is and how he manages to get these men here. The why isn't important until we catch him, and then you can ask, but I suspect that it will be nothing that we haven't heard before from the likes of Dahmer, Gacy, Gein, and Bundy, to name a few. Although this one's shaping up to be one of, if not the worst. This guy just wasn't on our radar until now. This man is intelligent and he's going to be difficult to catch."

"Yeah, but we're not letting him get away," Warrick vowed, and Gil was inclined to agree. "It's a disturbing thing to say, but I hope he kept everything straight, because it'll make it a lot easier in helping to identify these bodies. I just don't know what we're going to be able to do about those who don't seem to have any identification in those boxes."

Gil laid a hand on Warrick's shoulder. "We do what we have to do, Warrick. We do our job, and we give these people's lives closure and their bodies a proper burial. They deserve it, and they and their families would want that at the very least."

"I know what you mean, man. It's like I can hear their voices whispering to me, floating on the wind. They deserve more than this, Gris, more dignity than being buried in the backyard of their killer and tormentor, fated to rest there for all eternity unless we help them? I can hear them, and I know that if we don't catch this bastard, they'll haunt me for the rest of my life."

"I can understand that. But if giving them back to their families and burying them properly is all that we can do for them, it will be enough. It will have to be."

"I hope so," Warrick sighed.

Gil looked at Warrick from out of the corner of his eyes. "Whispers of the dead, hmm?"

Warrick turned his head and smirked at him. "Yeah, yeah, I know, and if you start talking about still hearing the screaming of the lambs, I'm gonna hit you." Both men turned as they heard trucks rumbling down the drive. They walked around the house to see men jumping out of the backs of the trucks with shovels and picks. In the trucks behind them, other men and women were pulling out sifting boxes and boxes that probably held various other implements for the careful digging. Further up the road they could see trucks carrying bigger machinery, should they need it.

"I promise, no lambs, Clarice. I know how much that movie rattled you. I'll let you get to work. As soon as Sara gets here, I'll send her out back to help you," Gil said, turning around and walking up the front steps. He could have sent Greg out to help him, but Gil wanted Greg in the house, especially after Sara's earlier tirade. Besides, Gil would work better without Sara's low grumbling or her cold shoulder. Sara liked old bones and buried bodies anyway.

"Okay, and thanks, Gris," Warrick said.

Gil gave him a nod and headed inside to get back to work.

"I think you're hungry, Nick," Gil said.

Nick looked up from the semen stain he was swabbing and gave Gil a sheepish smile. The loud growl that had come from his abdominal region was rather telling. "Yeah, I guess I am. I'm pretty sure that Warrick and Sara heard that in the back yard."

"You're not the only one who could use something. Why don't you go get something to eat? You haven't had a break in hours. Take Greg with you, and you guys can pick up some pizzas or something for everyone. There should be some money in the box in the break room to pay for it."

Nick shrugged. "If not, I'll take care of it." Leaning over to whisper in Gil's ear, Nick said, "This is one of those times when I don't mind dippin' into my savings. Don't tell anyone, though, 'cause they'll get all spoiled and expect me to do it on a regular basis." Stepping back, he said, "I'll make sure to get enough stuff to last everyone for a few days."

Gil shook his head and smiled one of those little half smiles Nick liked so much. "If only there were more people like you in this world, maybe we wouldn't have to work scenes like this."

"What are you talkin' about?" Nick asked, genuinely curious. He didn't quite understand the point Gil was making.

"Most people wouldn't offer to pay for his colleagues to eat for several days, especially when it could probably take a sizeable chunk of their paycheck to do it. You, on the other hand, would willingly give someone your last dollar if it meant you could help out. How many cases do we deal with annually where someone would just as soon shoot someone as give them aid? You are a rare and precious commodity in this world."

Nick felt his face go hot from the praise Gil heaped on him. It wasn't something he was used to, and it made him want to run over and kiss Gil. That really wouldn't be one of his brightest ideas, tempting as it was. Ducking his head and grinning, he shrugged. "It's only money, and it's not like I won't get paid again. I really don't mind, but if it makes you feel better, I'll use what's in the stash before I whip out the check book."

"Good, and here," Gil said, handing Nick sixty dollars, all the money he had in his wallet. "Fill the gas tank and use the rest for the food and supplies."

"You got it, Gris. Hey, Greg!" he yelled out, not sure where in the house Greg was working.

"Yeah?" Greg said, his spiky head popping out of the doorway to the room where Nick had found the girl.

"I'm goin' on a supply run, and you're comin' with me. Let's go." Nick took off down the stairs, not waiting to see if Greg followed behind him.

Nick looked over when Greg caught up. "We're gonna stop by the lab and then my house to pick up my truck and some camping equipment I have there. Then, we're gonna raid the store and the deli, and whatever else we might need."

"Good, because I'm starving," Greg said with obvious relief. "You want me to drive? It'll give you a chance to catch a little nap. I'll even promise not to blast the radio or attempt to sing you to sleep."

"You are a god among men," Nick said, slapping Greg on the back as they walked across the yard. "That sounds perfect, because I am exhausted."

Nick dozed off before Greg pulled out of the driveway, and didn't wake until they'd pulled up in front of the crime lab.

"We're here, Sleeping Beauty," Greg said as he shut off the engine.

Nick cracked open one eye and glared at him. "G, it should be illegal for anyone to be as cheerful as you are right now. What's up?"

"Just trying to keep our spirits up in this sick, sadistic world," Greg said, hopping out of the car.

Nick climbed out of the Tahoe and stretched. "The world isn't that bad. We just see the worst of it."

Greg shrugged and stretched his arms over his head. "I know. Still, it's horrible to see what people can do to each other. It's no wonder that people in our line of work end up depressed or burnt out."

Nick looked at Greg through sleepy eyes and smiled. "You keep on being cheerful, man. Seein' you happy oughta rub off on us if you keep it up." It always worked for Nick; when Greg had been a full time lab rat, Nick had sought him out often to lift up his spirits during particularly trying cases.

"Okay, so why are we here?" Greg asked as he pulled open the doors.

"We're here to raid the emergency cash box in the break room. Hey, how many people you think are at the scene?"

They entered the empty break room and Greg sat down while Nick dug out the box and left a note stating how much he'd taken. "Okay, let's see. In the house, there's you, me, Gris, and Catherine. There's Brass, the three original officers, and the four others that Brass brought in as soon as he found out about the graveyard. That's twelve. Warrick and Sara are outside, and I'd say about twenty teams of diggers, two people per team, so that's about fifty-four people, give or take. Wow, that's a lot of people."

"Yeah, and that's a lot of supplies. We'd better get moving."

"Why didn't someone just bring stuff out?" Greg asked as they headed back outside. "Why'd Grissom want us to go?"

"Probably because he thought we could use a break. We're going to be at the scene for days. You're working the girl's room. How far have you got on it?"

Greg shrugged. "Not very. There are a lot of prints in some very odd places. And since Gris wants every inch inspected…"

"You're gonna be there all day and half the night," Nick finished for him as he unlocked the Chevy and slid into the driver's seat. "I need to go by the bank before we do anything else. Oh, and remind me to fill up the Tahoe before we head back."

"Good, I think I'll go in with you. There's this really hot teller that works there afternoons and it'll cheer me up if I can drool for a little while," Greg said. His exaggerated excitement had him nearly vibrating in his seat, and Nick had to laugh.

"Yeah, well, we ain't got time for you to flirt, so keep your distance," Nick said, pulling out of the parking lot. "You can make those sad cow eyes at him on your own time."

"So says the man who makes the same sad cow eyes at our boss every chance he gets," Greg said, his smile brilliant when Nick glared at him.

"Oh, shut up," Nick said with a good-natured mutter. Greg was the only person who had any idea about his feelings for Gil. He'd confronted Nick with it over a year ago, and after initially being irritated with Greg, Nick had discovered it actually helped to have someone to talk to when he felt too overwhelmed. They had become closer friends, enough so that Greg had finally admitted to Nick that he was gay, not that Nick was particularly surprised. Being bisexual himself, Nick had no problem with it, and he understood why Greg chose to keep that information to himself. He really hoped Greg would someday find someone as special to him as Gil was to Nick. Now, if he could just get up enough courage to tell Gil about his feelings…

"You really should talk to Grissom, Nick," Greg said, using his uncanny knack for knowing exactly what Nick was thinking to his advantage. That ability annoyed Nick to no end, which was probably why Greg always looked so pleased when he used it. "I'm telling you, the man is completely smitten ith you. This thing between you isn't like it was with Sara. I've seen the way he looks at Sara, and the way he looks at you. Believe me, you have nothing to worry about."

"I know I probably should, but I don't think now is the best time." Seeing Greg's "I'm so disappointed in you" pout, Nick relented. "All right, I'll talk to him, but it has to wait a little while, until after we're done processing the scene. We've got enough to worry about without that hangin' over our heads, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it," Greg said, leaning down and reaching for the CD case on the floor. "Queen! Talk about old school, dude. I love them."

Nick smiled as Greg popped in the CD. "No one ever said Gil didn't have good taste in music. He just doesn't have your taste for bleedin' ears."

"Oh, please. My ear was not bleeding from the music. I told you, I scratched a pimple in my ear and it bled," Greg insisted with a snicker.

"Whatever you say, G," Nick replied, feigning disbelief as he turned into the bank parking lot. "You comin' in to drool, or are you gonna stay in the car?"

"Oh, I'm coming in," Greg said, opening the door as soon as Nick stopped the car. Greg was halfway to the front door by the time Nick closed and locked the doors.

Nick chuckled silently as he jogged to catch up with Greg. He supposed he'd be as excited to see someone he had a crush on if he didn't get to see him on a daily basis. Fortunately for him, he got to see his on a daily basis.

As soon as they got inside, Nick got into line, glad it wasn't too long. "There he is over there," Nick said, jerking his head toward a tall, redheaded teller. "Why don't you go drool while I get some cash?"

Nick watched Greg go into the back and do his best to pretend he wasn't staring. He was surprised Greg hadn't yet had the courage to find out anything about the guy. Greg had spoken to him before, during transactions, and Nick remembered Greg doing some thinly veiled flirting, but it hadn't yet materialized into anything. It was too bad, because the guy was cute, and Nick had noticed him checking Greg out more than once. Nick just couldn't seem to convince Greg of that.

It didn't take long for Nick to get through the line, and he'd had to smack Greg to get him to quit staring when he was finally done. "You're hopeless. C'mon, we don't have all day."

The drive to Nick's house was relatively quiet, which meant the screeching cat noises Greg referred to as singing were only at half the normal volume. As they got closer to Nick's house, Nick became more nervous. Greg, as good a friend as Nick considered him, had no idea where Nick's new house was. He'd never been there, even though Nick had moved in two months ago, and Nick knew Greg was going to be mad at him. "You wanna drive the Silverado or the Tahoe?"

Greg snorted. "You think I'm driving that monstrosity you call a pick-up? Please. You and I will both feel better if you're behind the wheel of your baby rather than me."

"Aw, is poor wittle Greggy scawed of a wittle twuck?"

"That is the single most disgusting thing I have ever heard, and thank God neither you nor Gil is childbearing capable, because if I had to listen to that on any continual basis, I'd be going postal on your ass."

"You have no sense of humor, my friend," Nick said, pulling into the driveway.

"I have so-holy shit, is that your house?" Greg asked, staring bug-eyed through the windshield.

"Yeah, that's it. Sorry I haven't invited you over, but I've been trying to get things settled," Nick said. It sounded lame to his ears.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who thought so. "Yeah. I mean, I would have been happy to help you move in, but then you would've had to explain to me how you can afford that truck of yours and the payments on this house. You, share something personal, we can't have that."

Nick sighed, knowing he deserved it. He'd known it would hurt Greg when he found out, especially after as much as Greg has shared with him over the last year and all the moaning and whining he'd put up with when listening to Nick. "I really am sorry, Greg. I should have-"

"No, it's okay. You're only the closest friend I've had since moving to Vegas, and you don't trust me nearly as much as I trust you. That's cool. Let's just get what you need and get moving," he said, jumping out of the car. "Like you said, we've got a lot to do, and we need to get back as soon as possible."

Nick hung his head and got out of the car, knowing it was going to be at least a few days before Greg had cooled off enough to forgive him.

Gil's head snapped up and he frowned as he heard muttering down the hallway. He leaned around the doorway in time to see Greg pass by and disappear into the room across the hall, muttering something about stupid Nick and how Ecklie was going to think he was on the take if he ever saw his house, and something else about trust. Shrugging, he went back to picking up the pieces of skin that were lying on the floor, steadfastly ignoring the knowledge that it was Michael's skin he was collecting.

"Hey, Gris," Nick said from the doorway a few minutes later.

Gil looked up briefly. "Did you get everything?" he asked as he tagged the container in his hand.

"Yeah, there's pizza, sandwich stuff, chips, sodas, water, tea, Gatorade, sweets, and just about anything you can think of that won't spoil. I also brought enough jugs of water and disinfectant soap to last for a few days, as well as paper towels and toilet paper."

"Good. Sounds like you thought of everything."

"Why don't you go down and get something to eat, take a break? I'll keep going up here, finish up this area."

Gil thought of arguing for a moment but then thought better of it. He really was hungry, and if he were completely honest with himself, picking up this particular evidence was starting to get to him. That Nick understood it and accepted it without throwing his weakness in his face was something Gil greatly appreciated. "Thanks, Nick. I think I will."

Gil sidestepped around Nick and headed downstairs. Outside, in an area of the property not considered part of their crime scene, everything was being set up. Gil stopped short when he saw Nick wasn't kidding when he'd said he wanted to get enough supplies. There were two large coolers and several smaller ones. There were four long tables being set up by some of the digging crew. Another one had already been set up, away from the food area, where the soap, paper towels, and jugs of water were situated so everyone could wash their hands. Small basins had been placed underneath each water spigot to catch the dirty water, keeping the ground underneath dry so they didn't track mud. "Nice thinking, Nicky," Gil said as he began scrubbing.

"I think Nick deserves a promotion," Catherine said as she came up beside him. "He really went all out, didn't he?"

"It seems so," Gil said, watching as three tents were currently being put up. "Tents?"

"Mr. Stokes said one was for the CSI teams and officers, and the other two were for the diggers," an officer said as he came up to wash his hands. "In case someone needed to take a break and catch some sleep. Everyone's going to be out here a while, I guess."

Well, that was thoughtful. Wondering if Nick had bought them or if he already had them, he said, "Good to know." He dried off his hands and headed toward the food. His body had been rebelling against lack of food for the last hour or so, and he was sick of listening to his stomach complain.

"'Property of Gil Grissom,'" Catherine read before handing him a pizza box. "I guess this one's for you. Someone must like you an awful lot if you get your own pizza."

"It could also be that no one else will eat the type of pizza that I do," Gil said, but his face heated with pleasure nonetheless. Opening the lid, he smiled as he caught the sight and scent of a large, thin crust Canadian bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, olives, and pineapple pizza, with extra sauce and half the normal amount of cheese.

"True, but it was very sweet of Nick to remember exactly what concoction you usually eat. Most of us either make you order or eat whatever we buy," Catherine said as she took two slices of supreme and a slice of pepperoni. "One might think he thinks you're special or something."

His eyes narrowed and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. There was something in her tone that implied she knew something he didn't. "I'm sure he doesn't think I'm any more special than anyone else."

Catherine shrugged and pulled two bottles of water out of one of the ice chests. "If you say so. Want any chips?"

"The Baked Lays, sour cream and onion," he said, still puzzling over her insinuations. Was he missing something, or was she reading into something that wasn't really there? Deciding he'd figure it out eventually, he pushed it aside and sat down in one of the metal chairs. He took the small bag of chips and then sank his teeth into a slice of his pizza.

Nick groaned as he stood and straightened up. His entire body ached. Looking at his watch, he realized they'd been at the scene nearly twenty-four hours, and they had only just finished the second floor. They still had the attic, the first floor, and the basement to go. This scene was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

Tilting his head to the left and wincing when his neck cracked, Nick took in the mess. There wasn't anything that wasn't covered in print dust, and Nick seriously doubted he'd ever be able to get it out of the clothes he was wearing. He picked up what was left of his kit and headed downstairs, where he found Gil working in the hallway. "Where are Catherine and Greg?"

"Greg's gone to the lab with the evidence we've collected so far. Catherine went with him. She's going to get some sleep and be with Lindsey in the morning before she has to go to school. She'll be back after that. Greg's going to log in the evidence and talk to Hodges about setting up their own lab in one of the rooms. Night and swing shifts have been taken off all other cases until further notice, so we can process this scene and get working on the evidence."

"Where was I when all this went on?"

"Upstairs. Atwater called just a few minutes ago, to tell me that my team and Catherine's wouldn't be expected to take on any more cases for at least a few weeks, and then only if the day shift is swamped. He's also requesting a couple of investigators from Reno and Laughlin to help out day shift with cases."

"Okay," he yawned. "I've gotta restock my kit. I'll be right back."

"You need to sleep, I think," Gil said. "When Greg and Catherine get back, I want you and Warrick to go home for a while, get some sleep."

Nick shook his head. "I'm not goin' anywhere. That's why I brought the tents, so I wouldn't have to leave."

"I want you to go home. Do I have to make it an order?"

Wondering if Gil's stubbornness came naturally or if he'd cultivated it over time, Nick shook his head, staring at Gil and letting his annoyance show. "No, you don't have to give any orders, 'cause I ain't leavin'. None of y'all are gonna make me, either. And don't even bother threatenin' to take me off the case, man. You know you won't do it. Now, I'll take a nap when they get back, 'cause I'm tired, but you're takin' one, too, even if I hafta drag you into that tent with me and pin you down." In fact, he'd do that last part with a great deal of pleasure.

"Greg's right. Your accent does get thicker when you're annoyed. Fine, I won't argue with you…for now. Go on, get your things, then we can start on the master bedroom. Catherine and Greg are going to take the attic when they get back."

Happy because Gil had given in, Nick headed out the door to Sara's car and filled up with a little bit of everything. When he got back inside, Nick went into the bedroom and set his kit on the floor, giving the entertainment system a once over. It was as good a place as any to start dusting for prints. As he knelt down, the VCR caught his eye. "Hey, Gris, there's a tape in this VCR," he said as he poked his finger inside.

"Turn on the television and hit play," Gil said, coming to stand beside him.

Nick stood beside Gil as the video began to play. "Oh God," he gasped, reaching down and stopping the video of Michael's rape immediately. When he turned to face Gil, he was shocked to see Gil so pale, his eyes still focused on the screen, even though it was dark again. "Gris, are you okay?" He received no answer. "Gris?"

Well, fuck appropriate professional behavior, Nick thought to himself as he stepped in front of Gil, leaving only an inch or two between them. He snapped off his gloves and wrapped one hand around the back of Gil's neck, rubbing gently. His other hand slid up and down Gil's left arm. "Gil, look at me. Are you going to be okay?"

Whatever trance Gil seemed to be stuck in snapped. "What?"

"I asked if you were gonna be okay. I know that was Michael on that tape." Gil didn't seem uncomfortable with their close proximity, so Nick wasn't inclined to move.

"Yes, I will be," Gil said, taking a deep breath and smiling a small, sad smile.

"You're sure? I'm only askin' 'cause I know this is harder on you than you're lettin' on," Nick said. "I just want to help. If you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

"I'm fine, Nick. It was just the shock of seeing him on there. I wasn't expecting it to be him, even though I had some idea of what was on the tape," Gil said.

"I understand. Promise me, though, that if you need to talk, you'll come to me or Catherine, or Brass? Hell, even Greg if you'd rather. Just don't let this stew," Nick insisted. He knew Gil well enough to know Gil would keep everything bottled up until he blew, and Nick really didn't want to see the man imprisoned for killing someone, most likely Ecklie.

"I promise," Gil said, stepping back. "Let's get started in here. Bag each DVD separately, make a note for them to be checked for prints."

It was twelve hours later when Greg and Catherine pulled up outside the house. It couldn't come at a better time for Nick, because if he had to drag his exhausted carcass around for another minute, he was liable to curl up in a corner and pass out. In the time they'd been gone, he and Gil had finished the master bedroom, the living room, the dining room, and the pantry and bathrooms, leaving the two worst rooms, the den and the kitchen, for last.

"Gil, they're here," Nick said, poking his head into the den where Gil was packing up each DVD and video in individual envelopes.

"Good, now you and Warrick can go home," Gil said, not looking up from the envelope on which he was writing.

"You're so funny I think I might die of laughter," Nick drawled, rolling his eyes. "I. Am. Not. Going. Home."

"Yes, you are. Damn it, Nick, why do you have to be so stubborn?"

"My mother's a District Attorney and my father's a Texas State Supreme Court Justice. I guess you could say it's a Wagner-Stokes character flaw," Nick said. "They would be so proud. Now, I do believe we agreed to catch some shut-eye in the tent when Greg and Catherine got back, did we not?"

"I didn't agree to do anything other than quit arguing with you at that moment. Now go home."

"Nope," Nick said with a yawn, stooping down and digging into his kit.

"What the hell are you doing, Nicholas Aaron Stokes?" Gil demanded with no small amount of irritation.

"I didn't know you knew my middle name," Nick said. He thought about telling Gil exactly how sexy he sounded when he got all pissy like that, but he didn't think Gil was in the mood for it.

"There are a lot of things you don't know," Gil snapped. "I asked you a question."

Nick let loose a sigh of exasperation and glared at Gil. "I am getting started on this room. Look, if you're not gonna take a break, even though I can see that you need one, I'm not gonna, either. Don't look at me like that, 'cause I ain't backin' down on this. I will go so far as to sick Catherine on ya."

"You call me?" Catherine asked as she peeked her head in. She'd just come into the house. "I thought I'd heard my name being called."

"It was. Now, whether or not we need you remains to be seen," Nick said, cocking his head to the left and staring Gil down. He knew he was pushing it, getting belligerent with his supervisor, but damn it, he knew Gil wouldn't sleep the entire time they were there if he didn't do something about it. And he knew Gil would never forgive himself if he screwed something up because he'd been too tired to do his job properly. "Come on, Gil."

Gil started at the use of his first name, and Nick knew it was because he rarely, if ever, used Gil's first name. Staring at him for a moment or two, Gil's shoulders finally slumped and Nick knew he'd won this round. "All right. Catherine, you're in charge. Nick and I are going to catch a nap in the tent. Call us if you or Greg need anything. I sent Sara home a few hours ago. I doubt she'll stay away much longer, so when she gets here, if I'm not up yet, tell Warrick to go home."

"I will. If anything, Warrick needs a real shower. He has about two inches of dirt on him," Catherine said. "Go, you two. Sleep. Greg and I have things covered."

"Thanks, Cath," Nick said, taking Gil by the arm when he didn't budge and pulling him toward the door.

Greg was standing there, giving Nick a knowing smirk. Evidently he'd gotten over Nick's lies of omission. Ignoring the warning glare Nick sent him, Greg said, "I've been standing here for a while. Do you know that you two sound like an old married couple nitpicking at each other?"

Nick rolled his eyes and frowned. "If that were true, then I'd be takin' him home for great sex instead of going to sleep out in a tent," Nick retorted, then stopped short when he realized what he'd just said and in front of whom. "I can't believe I just said that," Nick half muttered. "You really are a bad influence, G."

"I live to corrupt. Sweet dreams, little lovebirds," Greg said, sounding entirely too happy with himself.

"I have the strangest feeling that I'm missing something important," Gil said as he went to wash up.

"I have the strangest feeling that Greg is gonna die soon. You missed nothing but the asinine chattering of a former lab rat," Nick told him, washing his own hands, arms, and face. "There are times when I think we shoulda just locked him up in the DNA lab and thrown away the key."

Gil laughed. "Then we'd have to deal with Hodges' complaints about the music, the costumes, the hair, the yelling…"

"Okay, maybe that wouldn't have been the best idea. I think I'm gonna eat something before going to sleep. You want anything?"

Gil held up a bag of animal crackers. "Just this and some water. I'll eat when I get up. The last thing I need is indigestion."

"All right, I'll be right there. We're in the first tent," Nick said, digging in one of the chests for two waters. He handed one to Gil as he passed, then he pulled out roast turkey, tomato, pickles, lettuce and Swiss cheese from one of the other coolers. After his sandwich was made, he grabbed a bag of chips and a single serving pack of Oreos.

Walking into the tent, he nearly tripped over Brass, who was sleeping in the front section. Nick managed to step over him at the last second, but he ended up stumbling through the open screen that separated the two-room tent and nearly falling on Gil. He did manage to save his sandwich, though.

"Good of you to join me," Gil whispered as Nick sat down. Seeing the amusement on Gil's face made Nick smile, even though he felt stupid.

"Yeah, well, I like to make a dramatic entrance," Nick whispered back as he opened his bag of Doritos. "How long you think he's been here?"

"Not that long. I saw him heading this way about half an hour ago."

Nick nodded and bit into his sandwich. They ate in silence, Gil finishing before Nick. Nick watched as Gil settled down on the large air mattress, wistfully wishing this were some other time and place, where Gil would actually be in his bed. Finishing his food quickly, Nick settled down next to Gil and turned on his side, facing away from him. Though he thought it would take some time, he was asleep within minutes.

All Gil was aware of as he clawed his way out of his deep slumber was a soothing warmth flowing through his body, and even though he wasn't sure what was causing it, it didn't set off warning bells inside his head. Opening his eyes slowly, the top of the tent came into view. He could see clearly since it was either late morning or early afternoon, but the dark blinds Nick had installed in the tent kept out most of the intrusive light. Gil could hear the digging going on in back and the distant sounds of people talking.

It was a few minutes more before Gil turned his full attention to the head lying on his chest. Of course he'd known Nick was half lying on him from the moment he woke, but choosing to ignore it meant he could relish the feeling of Nick lying in his arms for a while before the improperness of the situation reared its ugly head and reminded Gil that this was not the time nor the place for such things.

Still, he couldn't resist lifting the hand currently wrapped around Nick's shoulders to stroke his hair softly. It was dirty, Gil could tell, because Nick hadn't had a shower in at least forty hours, and the wind was blowing dirt everywhere. He was sure his was no better.

The small strokes seemed to stir Nick into waking, and with no small amount of regret, Gil pulled his hand away. "Good morning," he said quietly.

"Mornin'," Nick mumbled sleepily. Gil smiled as Nick rubbed his face in Gil's chest before going stiff. A moment later, Nick all but flew off the mattress, his face the most endearing shade of lobster red. "Gris! I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to sleep all over you."

"It's fine, Nick. I was actually quite comfortable, so don't worry about it," Gil said, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Still, I shouldn't have been hangin' all over you. Won't happen again, I promise."

Well, that was certainly too bad. "It's really not a problem." Sensing that a change of subject would probably be for the best, particularly if Nick wanted blood to flow anywhere other than his face, Gil asked, "Did you already have these tents, or did you have to buy them?" If he had, Gil would have to see about the department getting him some kind of reimbursement.

"Nah, I had 'em. Remember the first year I got here and a lot of my family came up? We all went camping, and I bought these three tents. There are a lot of us," Nick said, getting up and stretching. "How long you think we've been asleep?"

Gil ripped his eyes away from the skin Nick was showing and checked his watch. "A little over four hours. Time to get back to work."

"You should eat first," Nick said, holding out a hand.

Gil accepted the help gratefully. "Yes, mother," he said with a smirk. Not necessarily the role he desired for Nick, but he'd take anything that proved Nick cared at all. And that was yet more proof he was getting old, because when did he care whether or not anyone cared at all?

When they exited the tent, Nick headed toward his truck-which Gil took a moment to admire-and Gil headed toward the port-a-potty. He was about to knock when Brass opened the door and stepped out. He wished he'd followed Nick when he caught sight of Brass's expression. "Hey, Jim. Did you have a nice nap?"

Brass's smirk grew into a smile of pure evil. "Yes, but not nearly as good as yours, I'd wager."

Despite his mind's demands, Gil's body immediately sent all available blood straight to his face. It was both humiliating and annoying, since he couldn't remember the last time he'd blushed. Hell, even Lady Heather couldn't get that kind of reaction out of him, and she'd tried her damnedest. "It isn't as if we'd planned that, Jim. Pull your mind out of the gutter and put it back on the case."

"Yes, let's get back to the case and forget that waking up with Nick was more or less a dream come true for you," Brass needled him, his expression softening. "You're completely hopeless. I still say plant one on him and see what goes from there."

"Work, Jim," Gil said, stepping inside the john and closing the door firmly behind him.

He really couldn't fault Jim for caring. When Jim had realized Gil was pretty much an anything goes kind of guy when it came to the gender of sexual partners, things had been awkward. But a few weeks later, Jim had accepted it, even if he was still a little uncomfortable with it, and they went back to normal. That had been only a couple of years after Gil had come to Vegas, and now, well over a decade since that discovery, Jim wasn't above trying to set him up. Gil knew it irked Jim to no end that Gil wouldn't allow him to meddle with his relationship, or lack thereof, with Nick.

Gil sighed. Being around Nick and not having him was getting more and more difficult. Maybe Jim was right. Maybe he should say something to him. Or maybe he shouldn't, and let Nick live his life without worrying about a middle-aged, semi-antisocial lover who left rancid experiments in the refrigerator and collected bugs for fun.

Chapter Six:

Nick stared down at the notebook, trying to make out the words, but when his eyes glazed over and the words started to blur and run into one another, he sighed and shut the book. He photographed it and put it in an evidence box, closing it and labeling it before shoving it to the side.

"God, Gris, this is going to take forever to get through. I'm gonna be havin' nightmares for months from the pictures alone," Nick said as he finished the photograph notation, stood up, and then stretched his arms up over his head. "I can't imagine having to watch those vids and DVDs. Ecklie'd better give those AV guys a raise after this. They'll need it for the therapy."

Gil sat back in his chair and looked at him. "Be prepared to have to watch a few of those yourself, Nick. I have a feeling we all will, if we're going to get through this case. There are hundreds of them, and even with Anderson coming in from days and Warrick backing them up, we're going to have to help them out."

"Yeah, I know that, but it'll be nothin' compared to what they'll be seeing. We just get the pleasure of reading this psycho's rantings." Nick pushed away the nausea as he pulled another binder off the shelf and placed it on the table to photograph it.

"Have you had any sleep since we've been here, I mean, other than that one nap?" Gil asked him.

Normally, having Gil's eyes on him for such a long time would make him flush, but at the moment he was too tired for it to affect him. He shrugged and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. "I've taken a couple of two or three-hour naps, not counting the one we took. I'll be all right."

"We've been here for over eighty hours. You should go home and sleep for a few hours," Gil suggested to him. "We've got a lot of long double shifts ahead of us for the next several weeks."

Yeah, like that was going to work on him now. "Nah, I'll be okay. We're almost finished here." Nick threw him a tired, half-assed smirk. "You've had about as much sleep as I have, by the way. You would be dropping dead if I hadn't made you take those naps. I'll make you a deal. After we finish here, I'll go home and sleep for eight hours if you'll do the same."

"I would argue with you about that if I weren't so damned exhausted. You've got yourself a deal. Catherine can keep a handle on things at the lab until we get back, and then we can set up a rotation. We won't be handling any cases other than this one until we've made a dent in all this evidence. We've got to find something that will help us find this bastard before he sets up someplace else."

"I'm surprised the Feds are letting us process all this. They're usually sticking their noses in and botching everything up," he muttered.

Gil shrugged. "I'm not. Their offices here in Vegas are half destroyed. Remember that fire a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah, that fire at the building next to them got out of control and spread to FBI headquarters."

"Apparently it was their labs that received the most damage, and much of their equipment was destroyed. They're going to help us with profiling and stakeouts and such, but we've got jurisdiction on this one, and they're here to help us, not take over." Gil let out a chuckle that sounded almost evil, and it made Nick smile. "Ecklie's having a fit because the FBI asked for me to head this case. They won't let him anywhere near it, and Atwater has ordered him to stay away from it."

Nick let out a soft laugh as he boxed and labeled the binder and jokingly said, "I always knew Atwater wasn't half bad."

"Oh, he is, but he also knows how to play the game. At least we won't be dealing with Culpepper on this one. I heard he got transferred to DC. Thank God for small favors."

"Tell me about it. Man, I would have given an entire years' pay just to hit that guy once." Hearing footsteps on the stairs, both he and Gil turned to see Brass coming down.

"Hey, Grissom, I just wanted you to know the FBI has sent some agents and workers here to help Warrick finish up the body removal. Catherine's just about finished in the kitchen, she told me to tell you."

Gil nodded. "We're just about done here as well, maybe another three or four hours. Tell Catherine to finish up, take the evidence to the lab, and then go home for a while. Tell her I'll call her when Nick and I need her back at the lab to cover for us while we go home. When we're finished, I don't want anyone coming into this house without my approval. There are probably more than a few things we've overlooked, but we won't know it until we start sorting through this evidence."

"I seriously doubt you've missed anything, but don't worry. I'll string up any one of my men who even thinks about letting someone in here, unless they have a signed statement from you," Brass promised as he trudged up the stairs. "I'll be glad when this scene is all finished," he called back.

"You and everyone else," Nick said through a huge yawn.

It wasn't four, but eight hours later when Nick and Gil walked out of the house with the last of the boxes that contained binders. Nick winced against the brightness of the sun, and as soon as he slid the boxes inside the backseat of the SUV, he fumbled for his sunglasses. "God, I love nighttime," he muttered to himself as he turned and headed back into the house to retrieve his kit.

"A fact for which I'm eternally grateful," Gil said as he fell into step with Nick. "I don't know how I would have gotten through this without your help."

Nick felt his face heat and he hoped his blush wasn't visible. "Hey man, it's my job. I'm just doin' what everyone else did."

As they stepped inside, Gil placed his hand on Nick's arm and stopped him. "No, you went above and beyond. We've been at this scene for almost ninety hours, and you barely stopped long enough to catch a nap or two and to eat. Everyone else went home to get some sleep at some point, but you refused to do that. You stayed and helped me out, even after I ordered you to leave. Thank you."

Nick shrugged as if it was nothing, but he couldn't keep from flashing Gil a bright smile. "You're welcome." The smile faded as he thought about the last few days. "To be honest, I couldn't go home. Catherine, Sara, Greg…they didn't see what we did, they didn't see how it was. They didn't see Michael lying out there on the road. They didn't see how he fought with the last of his strength to get away from this psycho. They didn't find the girl in that room, driven insane by what she'd witnessed for who knows how long, and they didn't find those two young men upstairs, chained to their beds and half-dead and violated in ways I can't even begin to comprehend. They haven't seen what's on those vids or in those binders. I'm not sayin' they don't care or aren't affected, but it's different for you and me, and for Brass. He's been here as long we have. He wouldn't leave. We saw the terror in those victims' eyes when we came near them. The rest of them won't know, won't totally get it, until we get to work on that stuff in the lab."

"I know, Nick, believe me. I'm still grateful for your dedication. Let's seal this place up and take the rest of the evidence back to the lab."

Nick and Gil went downstairs to pack up their kits. It took everything in Nick to concentrate on what he was doing. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was go home, slide into bed, and sleep for three days.

As they were trudging back up the stairs, they stopped short when they heard the distant ring of a phone. They knew that they were the only ones in the house, and it sounded like a landline phone, not a cellular. They double-timed it up the stairs, and Nick tried to remember where it was they'd seen it. "It's in the kitchen," he said, sprinting down the hallway and half sliding around the corner just as the answering machine picked up.

The voice on the machine was one of those mechanical ones that came prerecorded on it, and there'd been no messages, so they'd not taken the machine on the off chance that someone might call while they were investigating the house and help lead them to a viable suspect. This was the first time in the last four days anyone had called.

The machine beeped, and a voice started speaking. "Hello, Mr. Grissom. I have been watching the coverage on the news. Your dedication to your work is admirable. I trust you had an enjoyable time going through my home and belongings. It really is a shame I had to give up my home, because it was such a lovely, useful residence, but in the long run it is of no true importance. I am a man of resource, and I planned well for all possibilities. It is too bad that poor Michael had to escape. I truly enjoyed him, and I am saddened by his premature demise. I truly should have been more careful with him. He was a fighter, that one. I would have kept him much longer than any of the others, and I made sure he was well cared for, as I am sure you will discover."

Nick shuddered at the cold, calm tone of the man's voice. He wanted to lunge for the phone, but Gil held him back. "We need him on tape."

"I did not have much of a chance to appreciate the two young men in the attic. They are things of beauty, are they not? They were fighters as well, though nowhere near the same caliber as dear Michael. I give them to you gladly, with only the slightest amount of regret. It will not take me long to find others that suit me. Take care of my Venus as well. I will miss her most of all. It will take me months to break in a new girl. It will be tiresome, but I will persevere. Good luck with your investigation, Mr. Grissom. Perhaps I will speak to you again someday."

As soon as they heard the click of the phone hanging up, Nick said, "Why didn't you pick up the phone, talk to the bastard?"

"We needed him on tape for analysis, as much as we could get, and neither of us have fresh tape for our recorders." Gil pulled out the tape and bagged it. It was only then that Nick noticed that Gil hadn't dropped his kit in the hallway. "This tape will also give us some insight into his psyche."

Nick scowled. "Why the hell didn't we put a tap on the phone line?" he asked, punching the wall next to the phone.

Gil shook his head and reached out to take Nick's hand. While he checked it over, he explained, "This guy is too smart. He'll have assumed we had one on there already. I know his kind. He's calling from a pay phone, somewhere where there are few people around, so that he won't draw attention to himself or his conversation. Wherever he is, he's miles away from wherever he might be thinking of setting up shop again. If by chance we did manage to track the phone he was using, by the time we arrived he'd be long gone, and it won't really matter about the prints, because of all the prints we've collected, most of them are his. Right now we need to find out as much about this bastard as we can, and we can do that only by examining the evidence he left behind. I will, however, have Sara track the phone calls from this residence, to find out where he called from and have her go get the prints anyway. Let's go. He won't call back here again." Patting the hand in his, Gil looked up at Nick, the right side of his mouth quirking up. "I think you'll survive."

Nick felt a small pang of regret when Gil let go of his hand, but he shrugged. "I'm fine. I just hate that he's out there somewhere, gloating because we don't have a clue about who he is, and while we're spending weeks, months even, going through all this crap of his, he's looking for his next victims."

Nick didn't expect an answer, because he knew Gil felt the same way he did, and he wasn't disappointed. Gil just placed his hand on the small of Nick's back, and Nick let himself be guided out of the kitchen and back down the hallway. He picked up his kit and walked outside, standing by the door and watching as Gil sealed it up.

While Gil put his tape away, Nick looked out toward the road. He could hear the shovels and machinery digging away in the back, and he couldn't hold back a shudder as he thought about all those bodies lying there, some of them for God knew how long.

"You okay, Nick?" Gil asked, startling Nick out of his musings.

Nick shook his head, but he didn't turn to look at Gil. "I was just thinking about all those boys and men back there. Some of them, those that didn't have any identification in those boxes, we might not be able to identify. And tell me what kind of solace will any of their families have, knowin' that their loved ones were tortured and raped for who knows how long before they were killed?"

Nick closed his eyes as a hand came to rest on his arm. "There won't be any real solace, Nicky, except that they'll finally know what happened to those whom they loved. It will be a horrible realization to know what these men went through, but those people will be able to give them a proper burial and the families will no longer spend their lives wondering what happened. It might not seem like much, but it's something."

Nick sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I guess it is. Let's get outta here, man. I don't wanna be here any longer than necessary."

As they walked down the driveway to the Tahoe, steadfastly ignoring the shouts of the reporters from the outermost perimeter, Gil asked, "What about your truck and your camping gear?"

Nick waved it off. "Warrick's gonna drive the truck, and he'll bring back my stuff when everyone's done out here. They're still usin' the tents and the coolers. I'm not in any hurry to get it back. All I want is to fall asleep in my bed."

"I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment. Another hour or so, and we can do just that. I'll call Catherine and have her meet us at the lab. She and Sara can get started logging the rest of the evidence. Greg should have the extra lab set up by now, so he and Hodges can get started on DNA and trace right away, if they haven't already. Let's just hope they don't strangle each other before this is over. Jacqui's already started on the fingerprints."

"Well, all I can say is thank God for Greggo and his agreeing to handle DNA on this one, because he's the best we got and we need him on this," Nick said. "You wanna drive, or do you want me to?"

Gil tossed him the keys, which Nick caught easily. "You drive, Nicky. I think you've had more sleep than I have, and I'd never forgive myself if I drove off the road and injured you."

Nick rolled his eyes and tossed his nearly empty kit onto the floorboard behind the driver's seat. "Yeah, and I suppose I could forgive myself if I ended up hurtin' you. All right, but you owe me one."

"I owe you many. You mind if I take a little nap?" Gil asked as Nick slid into the driver's seat. He thought briefly about yanking Gil's chain, but one look at the sleepy, slightly dopey look on Gil's face, and Nick knew he couldn't tease him. He just didn't have the heart to do it.

"Nah, man. You go on ahead."

Nick didn't get further than the driveway before a light snore erupted from the seat next to him. Nick smiled and shook his head. He gave the reporters a half-hearted glare as he passed them by. They'd been out there since shortly after his and Gil's embarrassing nap incident. The only reason the helicopters were now gone was because of the huge tarps Warrick and Sara had set up over the dig sites. Without clear shots of the crime scene and the bodies, they'd given up after a day. With the price of fuel, Nick really didn't blame them.

When they got to the lab, it was almost a shame to have to wake Gil up. He looked so sweet, so peaceful, but Nick knew that at the moment, he didn't have any other choice. Reaching over, he shook Gil. "Grissom, we're at the lab. Come on, let's get this stuff inside."

"Hmm? We're here already?" Gil said, straightening up and blinking. "Oh, damn, I forgot to call Catherine."

"Don't worry, I did that while we were sitting in some traffic. She's on her way if she isn't here already."

"Thanks, Nick. After we get this inside, I want to check on Greg and Hodges, and see if Jacqui has anything for us, check with Al and see if he has anything for us from the bodies he's processed, and-"

"And then we're goin' home to eat and sleep," Nick interrupted. "Catherine and Sara can take care of things just fine while we're gone. This is gonna be a long and involved case, Gris. You're gonna hafta rely on us to help you out, share the load a little bit. You can't do this alone."

"I know, I know. I don't share well with others, or so Catherine's told me," Gil said with a sigh. "You win. Let's get this evidence where it belongs."

"Good night, Catherine," Gil said through a yawn that nearly split his face in half. It had been a long time since he'd been this tired. All he wanted was to fall face first onto his bed and sleep for a week. As it was, six or seven hours straight would be heavenly. "I'll be back soon."

"If I see you in here any time less than ten hours from now, I'll kick your ass, Gil. That goes for you, too, Nicky," Catherine called out from behind the stack of evidence boxes. "You two have got to get some rest."

A tired "Yes, ma'am," came from beside Gil. He turned his head to see Nick had come up beside him, and he hadn't even noticed. Proof positive he wasn't any good to anybody at the moment. "God, Gris, I am so dead tired, I'm afraid to drive by myself. I got an idea, though."

"I am, too, and at this point, I'm willing to agree to anything that means I won't have to try to drive home alone," Gil said right before releasing another jaw-cracking yawn. He had been considering calling a cab, but if Nick had something better in mind…

"My house is closer than your townhouse, and there is a queen-sized bed in the guest room with your name on it. We can put your clothes in the wash while we have somethin' to eat, and then we can crash after we put them in the dryer. That way, we don't have to spend money on cabs, we can keep each other awake on the road, and neither of us will end up splattered all over a telephone pole. How's that sound?"

"Beyond perfect. You drive, and I'll cook when we get there," Gil said. He was genuinely curious to see where it was that Nick lived, and why he didn't seem to want anyone at his home. He'd never received a direct answer whenever he'd brought it up, so he'd dropped the subject. It had been put out of his mind until Greg mentioned something while they were been working on the crime scene, some joking comment about Nick being on the take because Nick's house was nice enough that Greg would have been hard-pressed to afford it even with his DNA tech salary. Now his curiosity was back full force, but he wasn't going to say a word, on the chance that Nick might change his mind if he did.

Besides, it meant Gil got a chance to learn a little bit more about Nick, and that was always a good thing as far as Gil was concerned.

The trip to Nick's was short and devoid of conversation, but the radio blared to keep them both awake, and Gil kept a careful eye on Nick to make sure he didn't doze off. Gil was surprised to find that Nick was living in a neighborhood that was a little on the pricey side, but he didn't say anything, thinking that Nick would explain if he wanted to. As he stepped out of the Tahoe, Gil studied the outside of Nick's house.

It was a large two-story house, red brick with white shutters. The garage was further back than the front door, which Gil personally liked. He didn't think the front entrance of a home should be overshadowed by a place where you parked anything that could potentially leak fluid all over the place. The front yard was green and trim, with a large oak tree in the center of the lawn, spreading its branches across the yard to make a perfect respite from the Las Vegas sun. Near the house to the left of the front door were bushes blooming with dark red roses. Gil could tell that great care was obviously taken with its upkeep.

"You have a beautiful home, Nicky."

"Thanks," Nick said, sounding a bit shy. "I have a gardener that comes around every week. I try to do some of the stuff myself, but you know how it is."

Yes, he certainly did, which was why he lived in a townhouse instead of a home with a yard that needed attention. They stood there for a moment or two before Gil finally turned to Nick. "Are we going in, or do you want to camp out here on the front lawn?" he asked, grinning when Nick jumped, a bit flustered.

"Sorry. I was just lost in thought."

Wondering what he was thinking but deciding it would be better not to ask, Gil said, "That's a good place to be, unless you're about to fall asleep on your feet. Why don't we go in and you can guide me to the kitchen? Then you can shower while I attempt to make us something edible."

"Sure, come on in," Nick said, walking to the door and fishing his keys from his pocket.

Once the doors were unlocked and the alarm was disabled, Gil wandered into the large, open living room and vocalized his appreciation of Nick's home. "This is a lovely house, Nick. I can see why Greg kept talking about it."

"Oh, yeah? What did Greg say? I wanna know whether or not I have to plot his demise," Nick said, throwing his keys on the table in the hallway.

"He said that if Ecklie saw this house, he'd think you were on the take, since there's no way even he could have afforded this house easily on his lab tech salary. He was joking, of course, so I would appreciate it if you would wait until after he processes all the DNA for our case before you kill him."

"I'll restrain myself. I'm just glad he was joking, 'cause he was kinda mad at me there for a while. He'd never been here, and he thinks I didn't trust him with what I've been hiding. That's mostly the reason I didn't want to have Sophia's party here. I didn't want to explain how I could afford this house, since it's a personal matter." Nick said.

"Don't worry, Nick, I'm not here to pry into your personal matters," Gil assured him. "I'm sure Greg will understand."

Nick smiled at him. "I know, but you're the only one besides Greg who I actually feel comfortable knowing the reason why. I don't know why I haven't just told him. I will, though, once I'm sure he's okay with me. The kitchen's this way."

What exactly did that mean, Gil wondered, as he followed Nick through a large dining area and into a spacious kitchen, complete with a breakfast nook and a center island. "Now this is a kitchen. And look at that refrigerator. Do you have any idea how many experiments I could fit in there?" Laughter erupted from him at Nick's evil glare.

"You're welcome here any time, but keep your blood and evidentiary meat byproducts out of the fridge," Nick said. "Pots and pans are in the cabinets under the island. Food's in the fridge and the pantry. I trust you not to make anything gross or unidentifiable. I'll be upstairs, so holler if you can't find somethin'."

"I think I can manage, but if I can't find what I’m searching for, I will," Gil said. He opened the refrigerator and poked his head in. He was pleasantly surprised to find all the necessary ingredients for his mother's infamously decadent omelets and hash brown casserole. Rolling up his sleeves, he got to work, pulling out all the necessary items. A radio was on the corner of the far counter, and Gil couldn't resist turning it on and singing along as he started peeling the potatoes.

Nick couldn't keep the grin off his face as he raced up the steps toward his room. Seeing Gil in his house just felt right somehow, like he had always belonged here. And Nick hadn't lied when he said he wouldn't mind Gil knowing about something that was personal to him. Nick knew that if he wanted any kind of chance with Gil-first he had to find out if Gil actually felt any kind of attraction to him-he would have to open up to him. Nick had already figured out, from the way that Gil reacted to Michael's death and what he'd gone through before he died, that Gil's relationship with Michael was more than mere friendship. Nick felt guilty for feeling happy that he now knew Gil's preferences ran toward men as well, because of the way he'd found out. There was nothing for it, though, so Nick refused to dwell on it.

Entering his room, Nick went straight to his closet and rummaged through the drawers, searching for the too big sleep pants his sister, Elizabeth, had sent him last Christmas. They hung loose on his waist, but they should fit Gil perfectly. Finding them, he gathered a t-shirt, in case Gil didn't want to run around without a shirt on-not that Nick would mind in the least bit. The man could run around naked for all Nick cared. In fact, he preferred it, but he didn't think Gil would go for it, at least not yet.

Nick found his own clothes and quickly showered and dressed, eager to go down and watch Gil's kitchen performance. As far as he knew, Gil rarely cooked for anyone, except maybe Catherine and Brass, but they'd all been good friends years before Nick had come to Vegas. Gil had never cooked just for him, and Nick planned to enjoy every single minute of it.

"Shower's all yours when you want it," Nick said as he entered the kitchen. At the moment, Gil was sliding something into the oven.

"Great. It'll take a while for the casserole to cook, so I think I'll shower before I start on the rest of this. Why don't you make yourself useful and dice the tomatoes and the mushrooms?" Gil said.

"'Kay. I left pants and a t-shirt on my bed for you. You can use the shower in my room. Leave your clothes on the bed and I'll come get 'em in a few minutes, put 'em in the wash for you," Nick said.

"And your room would be where?" Gil asked as he wiped his hands and tossed the dishtowel on the counter.

"Up the stairs, last door on the left."

"Thanks, Nick."

Nick nodded and pulled the cutting board and a knife toward him, resolutely not thinking about the fact that in a few moments there would be a naked Gil in his shower. And no, a certain part of his anatomy wasn't tingling, trying to make itself known. After finishing the tomatoes and mushrooms, Nick figured enough time had passed for Gil to get into the shower. Sure enough, Gil's clothes were lying on the bed.

As he picked up the clothes, Nick could hear the faint sound of water coming from the bathroom. He headed out the door before his thoughts could stray too far into the bad, pornographic places his late-night-late morning, rather-thoughts of Gil usually ventured. Sitting around in the kitchen fully erect while Gil was making him breakfast was not the way he wanted to say "I love you, I want you, fuck me now".

In lieu of just sitting around and twiddling his thumbs, Nick went through his mail and checked his messages. He posted a note on the refrigerator door reminding him to call his mother and his brother when he woke up. They'd called during that first day they'd found Michael's body, and he was sure they'd seen something about it on the news. They were probably worried that he hadn't called back yet, and if he waited another day or two, one of them would probably show up on his doorstep to strangle the life out of him.

After writing out checks for a couple of bills (the lights wouldn't stay on if he didn't pay the bill, and his kitchen would end up smelling like one of Gil's experiments), Nick pulled out a carton of orange juice and dumped it into a pitcher. When Gil came back into the room, Nick had moved on to slicing and juicing lemons, so he would have fresh, cold lemonade when he woke up.

"Feel better?" Nick asked as he looked up. His mouth went dry as he took in the sight of Gil Grissom in his clothes, his hair wet and spiky and all over the place. A man really shouldn't be allowed to be that damned sexy, in Nick's opinion. "Glad to see the clothes fit well," he said, mentally kicking himself in the ass. Could he be any lamer? Where was Greg when you needed a witty, off the cuff, flirtatious remark?

"I feel much better. I didn't realize how truly disgusting I was. I have a feeling there's a dark ring in the tub."

Nick chuckled at Gil's joke. "Yeah, well, it was there after I showered, so I'm not concerned."

Gil came up next to him and looked over his shoulder. "May I ask what you're doing?"

The breath hitting Nick's neck caused shivers to run through his body. A little breathless, Nick gathered himself enough to reply, "I'm makin' lemonade for when we get up. I like sippin' on something while I'm waiting for the coffee to percolate, and Greg helped clean me out of everything else."

Gil moved away, thus giving Nick some much-needed breathing room, and started cracking eggs into a large mixing bowl. "I hope you don't mind omelets and hash brown casserole for breakfast. All the ingredients were in your refrigerator, so I assume nothing I use will be something you dislike or are allergic to."

"That sounds great. I'm not allergic to anything as far as I know, and I definitely don't keep anything I dislike in the house. Greg tried to sneak a jar of peanut butter into my apartment once. He didn't bring it back after I threw it and hit him in the ass with it. I hate that stuff."

Gil laughed. "I'll make a mental note to keep all peanut butter products out of your sight. Anything else I should know about that induces food-throwing?"

"Cabbage and cauliflower. The smell of that stuff cooking makes me want to stick my head in a toilet," Nick said with a shudder.

"I'm not fond of either of those, so I don't see them as being a problem," Gil said.

Nick sat back, watching with a smile as Gil beat the eggs into submission and wondered if it was wishful thinking that was making their conversation sound as if they were feeling each other out, trying to see if each was as compatible with the other as Nick thought they were.

Shaking his head and telling himself to get it together, Nick pulled a jug of water and the unprocessed sugar out of a cabinet. When Gil looked at the sugar with curiosity, Nick held it up and shrugged. "Greg threatened to superglue my eyelids open and make me watch Oprah until I went insane if he ever caught me using regular sugar in my sweets again. I figured it was better just to give in and use this. I don't wanna take the chance that he wasn't kidding."

"I would hope he's joking, but I wouldn't put it past him." Gil chopped bell peppers and red onions while Nick finished up.

When Nick was done, he sat at the counter and simply enjoyed watching Gil putter about the kitchen. Music still played in the background, since Nick hadn't turned it off when Gil went up to shower, and watching Gil semi-dancing to the beat caused a warm feeling to spread through Nick.

When everything was ready to eat and Gil's clothes were tumbling in the dryer, Nick asked, "You wanna eat out in the back? I've got a table and chairs out there, underneath one of the trees." Nick liked sitting out there to eat, since it was so peaceful, and the little pond with the goldfish was really pretty when the sun shone down on it. In fact, it's what sold him on the house in the first place, though he really did like the swimming pool. It always made him feel better, especially after a difficult night at work. He wouldn't tell Gil that just now, or maybe not ever, since that was too much of an overshare and it sounded kinda girly when Nick really thought about it too much. He really didn't want to know what Greg would say about it, and he definitely didn't want to weird Gil out, though he doubted anything really did that anymore.

"Sure, that sounds good. Why don't you start taking this stuff out there while I finish dishing this out?"

Nick nodded and grabbed the pitcher of orange juice-no coffee for either of them-glasses, napkins and utensils. Gil followed him out shortly after that with two heaping plates of food. Gil set one down in front of Nick and then sat down in the seat next to him.

"I didn't know you had a pond out here." There was a loud croak from the other side of said pond. "Did you know a bullfrog had taken up residence?" Gil asked, peering over his sunglasses at the frog, who seemed to be staring back. It croaked again, before leaping into the pond and scattering the goldfish.

"Yeah, I know. My brother brought him when he came for a short visit a couple months ago. Tony found him in his backyard, and since he was drivin' through on business, he thought I might like to have one as a pet. I used to hunt frogs when I was a kid, and I really liked the bullfrogs in particular. I had him in a tank for a while, but he likes it out here better, I think. His name's Jeremiah," Nick told him with a grin.

As he expected, Gil burst into laughter that echoed through the backyard. "I wonder how many bullfrogs there are in the world with that same name."

"At least one. It's his favorite song, too." Nick dug into the hash brown casserole. One bite had his eyes practically rolling back into his head. "Aw, man, Gris, this is sinful," Nick said, taking another bite. "Where'd you learn to make this?"

"My mother. She wanted to ensure my survival when I was finally out on my own, so when I was about sixteen, every Sunday she would give me lessons in cooking. This was my favorite growing up, and it was one of the first things she taught me how to make."

"Hell, if everything you make is half as good as this, I'm gonna have to marry you," Nick said, blushing under Gil's amused gaze. Turning his attention back to his food, neither of them said anything for several minutes as they cleaned every morsel off their plates.

Nick pushed back his plate when he was finished and slumped in his chair, completely sated. He had just closed his eyes and started to drift off when Gil's voice startled him.

"I'm going to need you to take the lead in all aspects dealing with Michael's death on this case," Gil said quietly, so quietly that Nick wasn't sure that he'd heard correctly.

"You want me to cover Michael's case?"

"Yes, Nick, I do. I think I might be too close to it to deal with it with complete rationality. Michael was…well, he was more than a mere acquaintance," Gil told him. "I-he was-"

Instinct had already told Nick what Gil was trying to stutter out. "You and he were lovers at one time, weren't you?"

Gil nodded, looking relieved that Nick had said it for him. "Throughout most of our college days, especially during junior and senior year. We both knew it wouldn't last, that life would take us in different directions, but we were…special to each other. Finding him like that, it hurt, and as hard as I've tried to look past it, to focus on the case, the evidence, and not the victim, I can't do it this time."

"It's all right, Gil. No one would expect you to do it. If you hadn't said somethin', I woulda asked anyway. I kinda figured that you and he'd been more to each other than you'd let on. I'm just glad you felt you could confide that in me," Nick said. "I won't mention it to anyone else. It's none of their business."

Gil looked over at him and smiled softly. "I know you won't. That's been happening a lot lately, my telling you things I wouldn't tell anyone most of the time. Perhaps I should feel worried, but I don't. I've never felt comfortable telling people about myself, because to have that knowledge is to know who I am, and that's something that I don't want to happen."

"Why not? From where I'm sittin', knowin' you isn't a bad thing," Nick said.

"Probably because most people, when they do get to know me, are so uncomfortable with who I am, or simply don't like me, that I don't bother anymore. I haven't for quite some time, and I find it's easier to keep my mouth shut. And it annoys the hell out of most people, and that's always fun."

Nick couldn't help but laugh at that as he recalled several times when both Catherine and Sara had tried to get something out of Gil to no avail. The looks on their faces alone were worth hours of entertainment. "That is so true, man. Warrick and I have gotten kicks out of Sara's grumblings many a time. Let me tell you somethin', though. If someone doesn't like you or they're uncomfortable for whatever reason, then they ain't worth the time, and it's their loss. There isn't a damn thing wrong with you."

"You really believe that?" Gil asked.

"I have to, 'cause if there's somethin' wrong with you, then there's gotta be somethin' wrong with me, and as far as I'm concerned, I'm perfect," Nick replied with mock seriousness, ruining the ruse with laughter at the pained expression on Gil's face.

"Please, Nick, I just ate," Gil said, picking up his dishes. "Can I ask you a question?"

Nick picked up his own and followed Gil inside. "You wanna know the story behind the house."

"Well, yes, I have to admit that you have piqued my curiosity, but that wasn't what I was going to ask you. I was going to ask if it bothered you to find out I've had previous relations with a male."

"That would be a little bit hypocritical of me, since I'm bisexual," Nick admitted as he rinsed his dishes in the sink, purposefully not looking at Gil. "That's actually somethin' that ties into the whole story behind the house, in a roundabout sort of way."

"I'm all ears if you want to talk about it," Gil offered.

"The money comes from a trust fund my maternal grandfather set up for me when I was younger," Nick blurted out.

"O-kayyy," Gil said, looking at him with confusion. "Care to elaborate."

Nick let out a nervous giggle. "I guess I should start from the beginning, instead of saying the first thing that comes to my head. Okay, let's see if I can do that." Nick poured them each a glass of lemonade and sat down at the breakfast nook, motioning for Gil to sit next to him. Once seated, Nick turned to face him.

"I suppose I should start with a Wagner-Stokes history lesson. My grandfather, Mitchell Wagner, and his identical twin, Bradley, were poor growing up, didn't have much of anything. Grandpa worked hard, though, and both he and my great-uncle had an uncanny knack for investing. They made a lot of money through the stock markets and investments in their own businesses, and by the time my grandpa settled down with my grandmother, he already had a great deal of money. So did my great-uncle.

"My grandparents suffered through four miscarriages before my mother was finally born. The doctors told my grandmother she shouldn't have any more children, but despite my grandfather and the doctor's objections, she refused to get her tubes tied. My mom was seven when Grandma died giving birth to my uncle, Stephen."

Nick sighed and sipped on his lemonade as he thought about the story he'd heard only on occasion. Even after all these years, it still hurt for his mother to talk about her mother and her brother. "My grandfather was a wreck. If it weren't for Uncle Brad, I don't know if he would have made it. They were so close, even closer than my siblings and I ever were.

"Uncle Brad was a great man. He stepped right up and helped Grandpa raise Mom and Uncle Steve. Mom said Uncle Brad treated them as if they were his own. I guess they kinda were, 'cause gay men were barely allowed to live back then, never mind allowin' them to adopt a kid." Seeing Gil's smile, he nodded. "Yeah, my great uncle was gay.

"Anyway, Mom and Uncle Steve grew up. My mom was in college when Uncle Steve was killed in an accident. He'd just gotten his license and was driving himself to school. He'd forgotten one of his books he knew he'd needed, so he'd headed back home. On his way back to school, he hit an ice patch and went off the road and smashed into a tree. He was going too fast and he was too inexperienced to have been driving in that weather. It nearly killed Grandpa Mitchell and my mom when they heard about it.

"After that, my mom was Grandpa's whole world. A year after Uncle Steve's death, she met my dad. He was from a poorer family, and some of his relatives were less than reputable in their dealings, especially as far as my grandfather was concerned. He didn't like her choice in boyfriends, but he thought she'd get over it and find someone more respectable, especially since she'd just started law school. She didn't, and when she told Grandpa she was going to marry my dad, Grandpa Mitchell blew his top. He told her that if she married him, he would disown her."

"Obviously his threat didn't phase her," Gil remarked.

Nick shook his head. "Nah. Mom was taught to stick up for herself and what she wanted, so when Grandpa told her that, she eloped. He made good on his threat, though, and took away her trust fund and took her out of the will. Evidently he did keep an eye on her, because when she started havin' kids and both of my parents got their degrees and started working in reputable law firms, he started warmin' up to my dad. By the time I was born, they were talkin' again, and while he hadn't put her back in the will or given back her trust fund, he had set up funds for each of the kids. I think I was fifteen by the time he finally forgave her enough for disobeying him to reclaim her. Not that she cared about the money or anything. She was just glad to have her dad back.

"Then there was my great uncle. Uncle Brad had been with his partner for thirty-five years. Growing up, it was always Uncle Brad and Uncle Liam. Always. You never saw one without the other. There was only one rough patch in their lives, and that was the one time that Uncle Liam cheated on my uncle. He had anonymous sex with some dude at a club while my uncle was away on business. Uncle Liam had gone with some friends and had gotten drunk. He never even knew the guy's name. One stupid night, one stupid transgression. You wouldn't think that one event could devastate an entire family, but it did." Nick had to stop for a moment to blink back the tears. This was one of the reasons he never talked about his money, because it always brought back everything else that went along with it, and it still hurt to think about his uncles, even after all these years.

"Your uncle got HIV that night, didn't he?" Gil asked, placing a hand on Nick shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

Nick smiled, grateful for the support. "Yeah, he did. I still hate myself sometimes for that whole thing with Kristy, because I knew better. I had no guarantee that she was clean, and I still… Uncle Brad forgave Uncle Liam after a few weeks, but the damage couldn't be undone. They didn't even know until six months later. Uncle Liam died first, when I was seventeen, and Uncle Brad died just after I turned nineteen. It's because of them that I'd never be able to tolerate anyone cheating on me, and why I would never cheat on anyone I was with. I was probably the closest to them growing up, and I think I took their deaths about as well as my grandfather did.

"After Uncle Brad's death was when the shit really hit the fan. I knew by then that I was bisexual, but I hadn't shared that information with anyone but my uncles and my parents. My siblings didn't know. We had the funeral, and afterwards, some of my siblings started talking about how they were being punished for living in sin and going against God, and all that bullshit. You gotta understand, some of us were shocked by their words, 'cause we weren't brought up like that. We never really talked about sexuality and gender, since we all just accepted Uncle Brad and Uncle Liam being together. It was fact, and we saw nothing other than two people who loved each other. Even though they weren't married, they still wore rings. They shared a home and shared a life, and no one in the family ever suggested that it was wrong. Sure, we'd heard stuff in school and on the streets or whatever, but we just wrote those people off as ignorant idiots.

"It was three of my sisters who held this viewpoint. They'd 'found religion' when they each married religious men, and I guess whatever they'd learned as children went right out the window. My grandfather overheard their criticisms of two men that they'd supposedly loved unconditionally for most of their lives, and he blew his top, man. I have never, ever seen him so angry in all my life, not even when he found out Uncle Liam had cheated and given Uncle Brad HIV. One of my sisters he couldn't do anything about 'cause she'd reached 33, the age that we came into full control of our trust funds, but he took away the other two's legacy, and he removed them all from his will. He hasn't spoken to any of them since then."

Nick shook his head and took another drink. "If they'd been expecting the rest of us to support them and try to talk to my grandfather, they were sadly mistaken. There was a big blow up, and that was when I screamed out the truth about my sexuality. Needless to say, that didn't go over very well with them. It took several years before we could all get into a room without erupting into a shouting match. Even now, my grandfather won't spend time with the family if they're there, and he hasn't even met some of his great-grandchildren. When I'm there, it's more tense than things would otherwise be, and sometimes my sisters and my brothers-in-law act like I'm gonna turn their sons and daughters gay by spending time with them. It's one of the reasons I'm glad that I got the job here."

"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry that your family had to go through all that, but I can't say I'm sorry you're here. I don't know what to tell you about your sisters, but I've never agreed with religions dictating what's wrong or right and forcing us to live our lives according to their demands. I'm still not sure why you were so reluctant to tell any of us about your trust fund, though."

Nick shrugged. "Part of it was because of the bad memories in brings up. I don't use the money all that often, and I try not to think about it too much. A lot of it is from my uncles, too, and it hurts, knowin' I've got the money because they're not here anymore. The only things I've bought with it were the house in Dallas, this house, and my Silverado. I guess it's really because, when I was in school and then at the Dallas PD, everyone knew who I was, who my parents and my grandfather are. The same type of people who would ignore me in high school were suddenly my best friends. I joined the fraternity because I thought it would be a place where I could just be-well, not completely myself, but enough so that I didn't have to deal with others. After a while, it worked, and I was just one of the frat guys. When I got to the department, though, people were always making comments about me behind my back, sayin' that I got the job because of who my parents were, because my grandfather was in the petrochemical business and was an important man in Texas. When I decided to go to the crime lab, there were always little comments about how I could afford to buy the department whatever equipment they couldn't get because of budget constraints, and I wouldn't mind because I was Grandpa's little rich boy. I never did make many friends in the Dallas department. The only reason I said I considered going back was because I knew at least one person was in the unit that wasn't like that. I just didn't want something like that to happen here, even if people were joking."

"I can understand that, but everyone here likes you for who you are, not because you have a trust fund. None of us care if you have money or if you're piss-poor. It doesn't make any difference to us."

"I know that. It's just a matter of habit, now. I don't know about you, but I think I'm all shared out. I'm ready to go to sleep. I'm not even gonna set my alarm. I'll get up when I get up, 'cause it's gonna be a long-ass shift when we get back to the office."

"Wake me up if I'm not up before you," Gil said. Both got up and went upstairs.

Nick pointed to the first door on the right. "That's your room right there. Sweet dreams," Nick said with a yawn.

"I certainly hope so," Gil said as he opened the door. "Good night."

"Night, Gris."

Chapter Seven

Gil arched his back and groaned as he finally awoke. The room was still dark, since the blackout blinds kept out the light, but Gil thought it might be close to midnight, time to get up and consider going to work. Still, he couldn't make himself get out of bed. It felt entirely too comfortable, the mattress infinitely better than his own. He supposed that was a clear indication it was time to get a new mattress and give his a proper burial in the nearest garbage dump.

It was a few more minutes before Gil finally managed to drag himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He found a new toothbrush by the sink and a bathrobe on the back of the door, and he wondered if they were already there or if Nick had brought them in while he was asleep. Not that it mattered, he thought with a shrug, as he proceeded to relieve his bladder, which was about to lodge a serious protest for not being emptied in way too many hours for comfort.

Hands washed, and teeth cleaned, Gil went out into the hallway and down the stairs. He found Nick working in the kitchen, wearing jeans and a nearly too small t-shirt. He took a moment to admire Nick's ass in those jeans before the aroma of freshly brewed coffee invaded his nostrils. "Good morning, Nicky," Gil said as he stepped into the kitchen. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Mornin'. I only got up about half an hour ago, and I thought I'd get a start on somethin' to eat before we head into the lab. I was gonna wake you up in a few minutes if you hadn't woken up already."

"How long have we been asleep?" Gil took the mug Nick handed him.

"Eleven hours."

Gil nearly choked on his coffee. "That long? We've got to get the lab as soon as possible. We've got so much-" A piece of blueberry muffin stuffed into his mouth cut him off. It was a good thing he liked blueberries.

"I've already called Catherine. She said to take our time, everything's under control. They've been organizing everything, making sure all the evidence gets to the proper places. They sorted the evidence boxes, and Catherine, Sara, and Warrick have started going through the stuff found in the shed. The AV guys have started on their part as well. Cath said when we get there we can start working on the journals, so sit down and relax. Your clothes are dry and hangin' in my room whenever you want to get dressed."

Gil looked down at the rumpled t-shirt and sleep pants he wore and smiled. "I suppose I am a little underdressed."

"Nah, you're fine. I hope you're hungry, 'cause I'm cookin' steaks on the grill. I've got baked potatoes and roasted corn ears, too."

"Now that you've told me what we're having, I'm starved. Where'd you get all that?"

"The fridge. Just as I was climbing into bed, I remembered I had a couple of steaks, so I ran back downstairs and put them out to thaw. I figured we could use something substantial to eat before we got to work. I don't know if we'll be havin' much of an appetite while we're workin'."

Gil had to admit Nick had a point. "True. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You can make the salad. I already cut up the lettuce and tomatoes. Everything else is in the crisper. I'll be right back. I wanna throw these on," Nick said, holding up a platter with two large T-bone steaks. Gil nearly fell off the stool on which he was sitting as he leaned over to watch until Nick was out of sight. Sighing, Gil hopped off the stool and pulled a large bowl out of the cabinet, whistling softly to himself. It was rare that he got to spend any downtime with only Nick for company, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

"Nick, why don't you go down to the supply room and retrieve several legal pads, folders, and enough pens and pencils to last all of us a while? We need to take extensive notes, and we also need to make copies of each page of every notebook to send to the Feds. They're bringing out one of their best profilers from D.C. to have her work on it at their office in Vegas. Her name's Waterson, so if someone calls here by that name looking for one of us, make sure to take the call." At the end of the hall, Gil turned toward their temporary lab. "I'm going to make sure Greg and Hodges aren't dead yet, and I also want to see if Jacqui's got anything for us."

"Will do, boss," Nick said, mock saluting Gil and turning on his heel to head in the opposite direction. It took a physical effort on Gil's part to rip his eyes away from Nick's retreating form.

Gil entered the lab just in time to watch Greg ping Hodges in the back of the head with a rubber band. At least there were some things in life that would never, ever change.

"Sanders, if you don't stop right now, I swear to God-oh, hello, Mr. Grissom," Hodges said, clearly flustered.

Gil didn't try to keep his amusement to himself. "Don't stop working on my account. I just came to see how you two are doing in here. Are you making any headway, or have you spent the last thirteen hours throwing office supplies at each other?"

The almost evil chuckle coming from Greg's mouth indicated to Gil they had been doing a little of the latter while working on the former. "Now, Grissom, would I deign to bring harm to my best friend in the whole world?"

"No, you wouldn't, but since I happen to know your best friend is Nick and not David, your question does not apply to this particular situation. Now, has anything come up that I should know about?"

Greg shook his head. "I've got some DNA tests running, but it'll be several hours before they're ready. You sent me at least two hundred pieces of DNA evidence, and with more coming in from Doc Robbins daily, I've got my hands full for a couple of months, and that's with the FBI lab tech helping out when I'm off shift."

"Then I'll let you get to it. What about you, David?"

"I've analyzed all the hairs found inside the house. All of them are human," David handed Gil several pages of notes. I've listed which ones seem to have come from the same person, based on visual matches under the microscope. I've also noted which ones are DNA capable, but that's Sanders' job, not mine. I've just started working on analysis of the rock from the grave. As soon as I know what kind it is and where it comes from, or where it's sold around here, you'll be the first to know. I haven't gotten anything from anyone else as of yet, but I suspect they will be keeping me quite busy." He tossed a glare in Greg's direction, and Greg sent an innocent, toothy grin back in reply. "I'm hoping I won't have any problems while working."

"Thank you, David. Now, you two play nice, and as soon as those Federal lab techs get here, I want you to go home and sleep. They should be here within the hour. I'm going to go find Jacqui." Gil gave them the over-the-glasses eyeballing he knew bothered them both and went down to the lab where Jacqui worked diligently.

"Have any news for me?"

"Actually, yes, I do," Jacqui said, waving her arms over the neat piles of prints on the large table. "Each of these small piles contains prints that match each other. I've already started running them through the databases. So far, these two have come up." She handed Gil two sheets. "Both were reported missing. Jonathan Lindsey was reported missing two years ago. The print that just came up a few minutes ago belongs to a Samuel Jones, who was reported missing three weeks ago. His prints also match the John Doe in the hospital. Here's all the information I got from missing persons. I've got a couple of prints running now, and I'll let you know as soon as they come up. As soon as the FBI's fingerprint tech gets here, I'm going home."

"Very good, Jacqui. Thank you," Gil said, striding out of the room. "Good work." He set out in search of Catherine, but he ran into Warrick first. "Warrick, have you seen Catherine?"

"She went out to pick us up some food. Not all of us were treated to Nick's barbeque," Warrick said. Seeing Gil's raised eyebrow, he added, "I ran into Nick. Anything I can do for you?"

"Yes, actually, there is. We've identified the John Doe over in Lake Mead. He's still unconscious, but Jacqui got a hit with his prints. He was reported missing three weeks ago, so we've got an approximate timeline for his abduction. Hopefully we'll learn more from the notebooks. What I want you to do is take this and go to his home, tell his parents that he's been found and where he's located. Let the doctors tell them whatever they need to know, and if they ask, tell them we're working on the investigation and as soon as we put together what happened, we'll let them know what we can."

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll figure out he was a victim of our serial killer all on their own," Warrick said.

"I'm sure they will. Take Brass with you, and escort them to the hospital if they need it. Make sure they know he's in stable condition and is going to make it. We don't need more deaths on our hands right now."

"Will do. I'll leave right away," Warrick said, starting to walk away.

"Warrick?"

"Yeah, Gris?"

"Eat first," Gil said, peering at Warrick over his glasses. "This is going to be a time consuming case. Take care of yourself first. I need you in top form."

Warrick nodded and turned into the break room. At the same time, Catherine turned down the hallway, arms loaded with bags.

Gil waved at her and headed down the hall and into the lab where they were going to work, sidestepping one of the audio-visual technicians who was on his way to the bathroom if the pale green pallor of his face was any indication. When he got inside, Nick was placing their supplies on the table.

"Where do we want to start first?" Nick asked as he sat down at the table amidst a sea of plain white boxes, each of them containing a notebook or binder.

"I might as well start from the beginning," Gil replied as he pulled the topmost box off the first stack. Catherine and Sara had spent the better part of two hours sorting the boxes and stacking them according to the date written on the box tops. "Why don't you start at the end, find the one that starts with his abduction of Michael. Since his is one of the freshest cases against our suspect, he will have the most evidence, and whatever this man has written might help us to find out where he is or at least where he's going to find his next victim. Any notes you find on a Samuel Jones or Tyler Rice would be good as well. They're the two men in the hospital."

"We found out who the John Doe is?"

Gil nodded as he slit open the tape on the evidence box. "Jacqui got a hit on missing persons. He's been missing for three weeks."

"Good." Nick went to the last pile and pulled out the last two binders. A few moments later, Nick went back to the pile, pulled out another binder, and flipped through it. "Okay, I found the book where Michael's abduction occurs, but I'm gonna start at the beginning, so we don't have to go back or end up forgetting to go through the rest of it."

Gil pushed him a couple of legal pads and some pens and pencils. "Make sure to photograph each page and scan them for the FBI," he said. "We'll send them the disks and they can print them out themselves."

"Send Ecklie over with them. I'm sure he'd like to kiss a little FBI ass," Nick muttered.

Gil smiled. That was something of which Gil had little doubt.

Several hours later, Nick updated Gil on his progress. "It seems there were two men being held when Michael was abducted. I don't know much about them yet, except that their names are Alec and Samuel, who I'm assuming is our guy in the hospital. He hasn't mentioned last names, though."

"And Michael?" Gil asked.

Nick looked at Gil's pensive expression and briefly toyed with the idea of saying he hadn't found much, but he decided waiting wasn't going to help anything and it wouldn't make finding out any easier for Gil. "Michael was abducted two weeks ago."

"This guy wrote all of that in two weeks?" Gil asked, pointing to the three binders in front of Nick.

Nick nodded. "Yeah, from the middle of this binder, where he first writes about Michael's abduction to the last binder, which is half full, constitutes two weeks worth of work. There are a lot of pictures, but this guy writes neat and small, and he writes about everything. There are a lot of mundane, everyday things in here. He talks about what he does during the day: gardening, washing dishes, making meals, working out in the yard, goin' to town. I've got nothing specific about where he shops, except that he mentions going to a Wal-Mart, one those with a grocery store in it. Which one, who the hell knows? We didn't find any receipts in the house. Other than that, he doesn't seem to have left the house much, except the night he abducted Michael."

"Perhaps we'll discover which one given enough time and research. Tell me about Michael's abduction."

Nick shifted in his chair. "You really wanna know?"

"I have to know sooner or later. I'd really rather not have to wonder about it," Gil said.

Nick had thought as much. "Our suspect met him in a bar near the hotel at which Michael was stayin'. I don't know which hotel, the notebook doesn't say. I'm hopin' Warrick or Sara have found his things, and I'm gonna go check in a minute, but if not, I'll have 'em start callin' the hotels, see if any will cooperate with us enough to tell us if he at least checked in."

"How did he get Michael to follow him?"

"Apparently he struck up a conversation with Michael, bought him drinks as they talked, and managed to spike one of those with just enough Rohypnol to make Michael susceptible and get him into his car with the promise of returning him to his hotel. It seems Michael was a little drunk and he didn't want to walk. Once he got him in the car, it was fairly easy for our suspect to subdue Michael, or so this guy wrote. He took him to the house where we found him."

"That's all we know?" Gil asked quietly.

Nick nodded, his heart going out to Gil. He couldn't imagine what Gil must feel, hearing about the abduction of a man he'd been so close to at one time. "So far. I'm up to what he wrote after he brought Michael to his house. At this point, he has Michael up in the attic, sleeping off the alcohol and the Rohypnol. He hasn't done anything to him. He already has Samuel Jones at his home, and that Alec guy. There's no mention of Tyler Rice yet."

Nick flipped through his notes. "I also have a reference to a 'Venus', when he speaks of his…events with Alec and Jones. He also keeps sayin' 'she', so I'm thinkin' it's the girl. I doubt Venus is her real name, though."

Gil shrugged and sat back. "Maybe she was a prostitute, or maybe a dancer? I don't know. We'll have to figure that out as well."

Nick nodded and returned his attention to his work.

Looking at his watch, Nick said, "We've been at this nearly eighteen hours. I've finished going through the first binder, and I'm about halfway through the second. I don't even wanna think of finishing this, let alone start working on this last one. I'm too tired, and I'm liable to miss somethin'. I'm gonna call it a night."

"All right, Nick. Try to get some sleep."

"Yeah, if I don't suffer from nightmares all night. This guy is one sick fuck." Nick stood and peered at Gil from over the top of his glasses. He'd long since taken out his contacts. "You're not gonna go home?"

"No, I'm going to work for a while longer."

Nick frowned but didn't press the matter, since it wasn't his place. If it were, he'd be grabbing Gil by the collar and dragging his ass out the door. "Okay, but just so you know, I'm gonna be a little pissed if I come back and find you still here."

Gil didn't look up from the table on which he was writing. "Duly noted. I'll see you later."

Nick scowled and shook his head as he headed toward the locker room. When he finally got the courage to ask Gil out, and if by chance he was lucky enough to have Gil say yes, Nick was going to have to help Gil get out of this habit of working so much overtime. The only one who worked more than Gil was Sara, but she wasn't Nick's concern.

"Hey, Nick, you leaving?"

Greg's voice cut through Nick's musings and he turned to greet his friend. "Hey, Greg. Yeah, I'm goin' home to attempt to sleep. I'll be back in a few hours," Nick said.

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Let me tell you somethin', man. Of all the serial killers I've ever read about, this is the one I'd want to catch me the least."

"I take it I don't want to ask why?" Greg said.

Nick shuddered as he thought about the last pictures taken of Alec. The poor man's last breaths were taken as he was being ripped up from inside, sodomized by a modified mace. Nick and the toilet bowl in the ladies restroom had become intimately acquainted soon after that, and Nick had the feeling he and that toilet bowl were going to be engaged by the time this was all over. "No, you really don't."

"Okay, a change of subject seems to be in order." Greg stepped closer to Nick and lowered his voice. "I heard that Gil spent the night at your house. So, tell me, did you guys have hot, manly, sweaty buttsex, or did you chicken out…again?"

"I can't believe you just said that. Forget that, it's you. I believe it. No, we didn't. I haven't spoken to him yet, so anything of an intimate nature is out of the question. Besides, after seeing what I've seen these last few days, I don't think I'm going to be having 'hot, manly, sweaty buttsex' with anyone for a while."

"Poor Nicky, so traumatized. Nothing could keep me from sex if I had the opportunity," Greg said, popping a bean into his mouth.

Nick shook his head when Greg held out the cup of coffee beans. "You think so? Why don't you go sit in the AV lab for a little while and then tell me that again? I'll be back later."

Nick went to his locker and pulled out the keys to his Silverado, which Warrick had brought back before Nick and Gil had returned to the lab. He went outside and hopped into his truck, hoping that when he got home, he'd dream of dreamy blue eyes and cute little half smiles instead of rape, torture, and lost lives.

Nick didn't see Gil's car when he came back ten hours later, so he took it as a good sign. Inside, he stopped at the receptionist's desk for his messages. "Hey, Marie. Do you know what time Gil went home?"

"Hello, Mr. Stokes. I believe Mr. Grissom left a few hours after you did. I saw him speaking with Mr. Sanders last, so he might have a better idea than I do."

Nick looked up from his messages and smiled at the receptionist. "Thank you, Marie. Please, call me Nick. Mr. Stokes is my father."

Marie laughed softly. "I'll try to remember that, sir."

"See ya later," Nick said, heading down to Greg's lab, grinning when he heard music coming from down the hall. Having a good idea who was blaring the music, he quickened his pace.

Sure enough, there was Greg, bobbing his head to the beat. On the other side of the lab, Hodges hunched over his microscope, but he wasn't looking at his sample. Instead, he glared over at Greg, who was obviously ignoring him.

Nick went inside and turned off the radio.

"Thank you," Hodges sighed with relief.

"Not a problem," Nick said. "Got anything for me, Greggo?"

"Sure do," Greg said, handing Nick a few sheets of paper. "I tested the semen found on our vic, Andersen, and compared it to his DNA. No match to Andersen, and no match on CODIS."

"You're kidding me," Nick said, looking up sharply. "This guy's got a hundred and eighty-six people buried in his backyard, all of them most likely victims of violent sexual crimes, and he isn't in CODIS?"

Greg shook his head. "Nope. Whatever he's doing, he's never been caught. Sorry."

Nick sighed. "That's all right. Maybe we'll get lucky and get a hit off AFIS. What's this third page?"

"Another DNA sample, belonging to a Brendan Pritchard. He was in CODIS for a sexual assault he committed about two years ago."

Nick nodded and wrote down the name on his notepad before handing Greg the papers. "Thanks, G. I'll give this name to Brass, see if he can find out anything about when this guy was last seen. Let me know when you get anything else."

He was about to leave when he remembered what Marie had said. "Hey, Greg, when did Gil go home?"

"It was about three, three and a half hours after you left."

"Okay, thanks." Nick walked out of the lab and down the hall, grinning when he heard the radio blare once again.

Nick was hunched over his notepad, scribbling out notes on Tyler Rice's abduction when a hand suddenly squeezed his shoulder, causing him to jump and break his pencil tip.

He twisted his head to glare over his left shoulder. "Damn it, Grissom, haven't I told you not to do that? Look what you did," he said, holding up his broken pencil.

"I'll call homicide," Gil replied.

Nick continued to glare as Gil walked around the table and took his seat. "Very funny. Excuse me while I call Comedy Central."

"Perhaps you should speak to someone about your tendency to jump at everything," Gil said with a grin.

Nick rolled his eyes and reached over to snatch one of Gil's pencils. "I'm fine. I just don't expect my colleagues to get sadistic pleasure out of scarin' the wits out of me, especially not in the lab."

"You really don't know any of us, do you?"

"Ooh, another joke. You're killin' me, man," Nick deadpanned, but he couldn't keep the sides of his mouth from twitching upwards. "While you were at home workin' on your comedy routine, I've been findin' out about our vics. Tyler Rice was abducted six days after Michael.

Nick flipped back a page. "Our suspect spotted Rice and his girlfriend walking their dog. When they reached the park, the girlfriend took the dog off the path while the boyfriend went for a jog. The suspect followed him until they reached a remote, wooded area, then he used chloroform to take out Rice. He dragged Rice to the edge of the woods near a road, gagged him and tied him to a tree, and went to get his car. It was close to dark, and once no one was around, he picked Rice up."

"Anything else?"

"Not yet. I'm nearly done with this book, and I'm going to take a break after I finish it."

"All right. Keep me updated. I'm going to see how everyone else is doing. I'll be back in a while."

Nick nodded and he turned backed to his notes.

After taking a long break and giving his sore ass a rest, Nick pulled the last notebook towards him. This was the one that had been open on the table in the basement. It was only a quarter full, and as he flipped through it, Nick saw much of it focused on the two men they'd found upstairs. There were some pages that concerned Michael. He was about to flip back to the front when something on the last page of writing caught his eye.

Tonight's entertainment with Michael was not as much fun as I had hoped it would be. Oh, he screamed and writhed beneath my ministrations, and yet, I sensed his thoughts were elsewhere. When I chained him to the wall, I asked him whatever the matter was, what was so important that he would ignore me in such a way. It took much persuasion on my part, but he finally admitted to me what was on his mind.

It seems that my dearest Michael had been on his way to visit an old friend from college. Michael says his friend works for the crime laboratory here in Las Vegas. Apparently, he had lost touch with him some time ago, but after his partner's death, Michael felt the urge to see this man, Gilbert Grissom, I believe he said his name was.

I asked if he had planned on rekindling some sort of relationship with this man. I would find it highly offensive to find out my Michael is thinking of this Grissom fellow while we are being intimate. Alas, my Michael is a good boy. It was his only regret that he had allowed his friendship with this man to lapse after becoming involved with his young man in New York. Apparently Michael had searched for some time for his friend, and he wished to surprise Mr. Grissom. Michael did not tell anyone of his destination, so it is doubtful anyone knows of his true location, or if they do, they have no idea where to look first.

As I sit here, knowing my Michael is upstairs chained to the wall, waiting for me to return to him, to give him the pleasure for which he begs so prettily, I wonder if Mr. Grissom ever regrets losing touch with this beautiful man. Will he cry, if by chance he ever finds Michael's body? Will he care that Michael's last coherent thoughts in his life are of him? Does this Mr. Grissom have any regrets at all when it comes to his life, like my Michael does? If he has a young man in his life, does Mr. Grissom cherish him as Michael cherished his lover, as I cherish Michael now?

Perhaps, once I am finished with him, I should dump Michael's body where it can be found, perhaps somewhere inside the city limits, late one night so I know it will be Mr. Grissom's team to find him. It would be, at the very least, amusing for me. Perhaps I will do just that.

Now, if you will excuse me, dear reader, I must travel into town and do some shopping.

Nick shut the book and stood up, only to sit back down again. He felt ill, dizzy. When he looked at his reflection in the glass, he could see he'd gone white as a ghost. Once the initial nausea passed and he was able to stand, he went out into the hallway and started searching for Gil. He had to find him. Now.

"Thanks, Greg," Gil said as he stepped out of the lab and turned toward his office. His attention was on his clipboard, going over the analyses Greg had just given him on some of the bodies, so he didn't notice anyone coming toward him until his arm was caught in someone's grip. Before he could say a word, he was being guided down another hallway and into the evidence room.

"Nick, what's gotten into you?" he asked as the door was closed behind him. "Why did you bring me hmph-?"

Shock kept Gil perfectly still as Nick pinned him against the door and kissed him with a force and urgency bordering on desperation. At least Gil now knew what Charlotte had meant when she'd told him to pin her up against the wall and lay one on her like he meant it, because that was what Nick was most certainly doing. Whether fortunate or not, Gil's body responded before his brain could catch up and tell him why this wasn't a good idea. One hand wrapped around the back of Nick's neck and the other slid around Nick's waist, pulling him as close as possible.

Urgency gave way to slow passion as their lips moved against each other in a languid rhythm. When Nick's tongue darted out to gently swipe at the swell of Gil's bottom lip, Gil opened his mouth, coaxing Nick's tongue inside with teasing strokes of his own.

One kiss melted into another until Gil's common sense finally overrode his passion and he pushed Nick away gently, ending their kiss. "What was that all about?" Gil asked between gasps, reaching out for a chair once Nick stepped away. His legs were spaghetti, and he had to sit down before he fell flat on his ass and really embarrassed himself.

Nick slid into the chair next to him and took Gil's hands in his. "I was getting started on the last binder, and while I was flippin' through it, I noticed Michael's name in the last entry, so I read it. He was here in Vegas to see you."

"What? How did he know where I was? We haven't spoken in twenty years. Why would he come to see me? And what does this have to do with now?"

"If you'd quit asking questions, I'd tell you. Michael's partner had died, and he wanted to see you again. He wanted to try to get back the friendship you guys had. It was his only regret, that you two were no longer friends. Our suspect wondered if you regretted that loss, if you would be bothered by Michael's death. It really got to me."

Nick reached up to stroke Gil's cheek. "I don't want any regrets in my life. I don't want to go through life, only to regret that I didn't act on this. I love you, Gil. I want to have a relationship with you, and I'm not talkin' some short-term thing. I'm talking about the long haul, with everything that comes with it."

Gil opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't sure exactly what, but Nick pressed his fingers to Gil's lips.

"No, don't say a word, Gil. I don't want you to give some knee-jerk reaction. I know you feel something for me as well. I want you to think about this, really think about this. Take a few days, a few weeks…hell, take a few months if you have to. I'll wait. I hope you decide to pursue this, but if you don't, I won't press the issue again. Just take your time, figure out what you really want."

Gil closed his eyes as Nick removed his fingers and pressed his lips to Gil's again. "I will," Gil promised.

"Thank you," Nick said, stroking Gil's cheek one more time before getting up. "I guess we should get back to work."

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Gil said, smiling up at Nick.

As soon as Nick left the room, Gil slumped down in his chair, his mind reeling. He'd always thought that he'd have to desire Nick from afar, but here it was, his one chance at everything he ever wanted. His most desired wish, right in front of him, handing itself to him on a silver platter. All he had to do was reach out and take it.

But could he, now that he knew he could have Nick? All the old insecurities sprang to the forefront of his mind in an instant. Was he good enough? Could he possibly give Nick what he wanted, be what Nick needed him to be? And why would Nick want him, when he could have someone so much better?

Could it be construed as anything but selfish if he were to take what was being offered?

A few nights later, Nick and Greg sat on the sofa in the break room, silently downing their coffee, waiting for Gil to come in and introduce the new guy, when Warrick came in the door.

"Hey, man. How'd your date go last night?" Nick asked. From the scowl on Warrick's face, Nick had an idea that it didn't go as planned.

"It was one of the worst nights I've spent in the company of a woman," Warrick snapped while pouring a cup of coffee.

Nick looked up at his friend, who came to stand in front of him and Greg. "Man, what are you talkin' about? Yesterday you were about ready to pop, you were so excited to be goin' out with her. What happened?"

"I didn't feel like going out someplace, and she was okay with that. We decided to stay in, order in some Chinese, and watch a movie. I took care of everything except the movie, which she said she'd bring. Hell, I was all for that. I thought she'd bring some boring chick flick and we'd spend our time making out during it."

"Always a good time," Greg said.

"Exactly. Things were going great. We ate and had great conversation, and then she popped in the movie."

"What movie was it?" Nick asked. He had a pretty good idea of the genre.

"Silence of the Lambs," Warrick said.

Nick grinned and Greg burst out laughing. Warrick's hatred for that particular movie was legendary in the lab, as was his intense dislike for any horror film. When Nick asked why, Warrick said he'd seen enough real life crap to not want to see it in his movies.

Greg's theory was that Warrick was just a big, fat, 'fraidy cat.

"Tell me, what kind of person picks Silence of the Lambs for a date movie?" Warrick muttered.

"Obviously she does," Nick said. He was trying not to laugh, but the scowl on Warrick's face made it difficult. "Why didn't you tell her you don't like that movie?"

"I did. I explained to her that I really didn't want to watch a movie about a serial killer when I was dealing with a real-life serial killer at the moment."

"Oh, so you didn't tell her that Hannibal the Cannibal gives you the wiggins?" Greg asked with a grin.

"You're not allowed to watch Buffy anymore, I'm cuttin' you off," Nick said, cutting off whatever cutting remark Warrick was going to send Greg's way. Turning to Warrick, he asked, "What did she say?"

"She said we could change movies. We agreed to watch Ocean's Eleven, but I could tell she was pissed the entire night 'cause she didn't get her way. She left after the movie ended," Warrick said as he pulled a chair out at the table and sat down. "That was the first night off I've had in two weeks of double and triple shifts. What a lousy way to spend it."

"Sorry, man. I know you liked her," Nick said. He saw Greg playing an invisible violin next to him and threw a napkin at his head.

Warrick looked at each of them. "Glad to see you're feelin' my pain."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Warrick. Nick and I both know you've got a thing for Catherine. I wish you'd just ask her out already and put us all out of our misery."

Nick nodded when Warrick raised an eyebrow. "He's right, man. You should just ask her."

Beside him, Greg snorted. "Like you're one to talk," Greg muttered.

Nick turned his head and glared at Greg. "For your information, I already have."

Greg nearly jumped out of his seat. "And?"

"My proposal is under advisement," he said.

At that moment Gil walked into the room, followed by a man Nick didn't know. His arrival saved Nick from Greg's rapid-fire questions and Warrick's inevitable interrogation. He still hadn't told Warrick he was in love with Gil. Hell, he hadn't told Warrick he was bisexual. Now there was a conversation that ought to go well.

"Where are Catherine and Sara?" Gil asked Nick.

"Catherine went to the bathroom and Sara left three hours ago."

"I'm here," Catherine said, coming into the room.

"I'd like to introduce you to Patrick McCaffrey, our new C.S.I. Patrick, I'd like to you meet everyone." Motioning in Catherine's direction, Gil said, "This is Catherine Willows, the supervisor for swing shift. Next to her is Warrick Brown, who also works swing. On the sofa, the one with the spiky head is Greg Sanders, and the other is Nick Stokes. Both are on our shift."

Nick studied Patrick as he spoke to Warrick and Catherine, noting that he wasn't bad looking at all. He was tall and kind of lanky, with dark brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. He had just a hint of five o'clock shadow and a rather nice smile. He also looked nervous as hell.

No, Patrick wasn't bad at all, Nick thought, but he definitely wasn't Gil.

Nick looked over at Greg, who was sizing Patrick up with interest. Rolling his eyes, he elbowed Greg. "Down, boy. Guy's got a wedding ring."

"Doesn't mean I can't look," Greg whispered back.

Greg was hopeless. "Hey, G, 'Rick's birthday is comin' up. Have you decided what you're gonna get him?"

Greg's grin was almost terrifying in its mischievousness. "I have a great Chianti that I know he'd love."

Nick laughed. "Hey, man, it's your funeral. I'll make sure I write a brilliant eulogy," Nick said as he got up and walked over to talk to Patrick.

After watching everyone speak to Patrick for a few minutes, Gil cleared his throat. "Okay, everyone, it's time to get back to work. Patrick, I'm going to have you helping out with the day shift, since they're still short-handed. Everyone's out on assignment, however, so until a team gets back, you can help us out."

Gil handed him a long list of names. "This is a list of the names of people who had identification in the boxes from our crime scene. Run these through missing persons and all the criminal databases, and see if you can get any hits. Bring me whatever you find."

"Yes, sir," Patrick said.

Seeing the lost look on Patrick's face, Gil motioned to Catherine, who stood.

"I'm leaving, so I'll show you around the lab and show you where you'll be working for now," Catherine said, escorting Patrick out of the room.

Gil turned to Nick. "We're on the journals again. Warrick, you're on trace. Greg, DNA." With that, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

"Later, Warrick, G," Nick said, following Gil out the door.

Gil gave Nick a curious glance when Nick slammed the binder shut. It wasn't the first time Nick had done so within the last few weeks. "Something wrong, other than the typical contents of these journals?"

"Why does he keep callin' Brittany 'Venus'? If he hadn't written her name down when he first abducted her, we'd probably never know what her name is. I just don't get his reasoning."

Gil looked at Nick from over his glasses, raising an eyebrow in question. When Nick saw it, he rolled his eyes, and Gil couldn't keep a smile off his face.

"I know, Gris, I shouldn't get personal or try to understand the reasoning behind this psycho, but it bugs me, man. I don't know why it bothers me, but it does, okay?"

"It's okay, Nick. With a case like this, none of us can help but have a personal stake in it. So far as we've been able to tell, this man's signature seems to be the same, but his MO is across the charts. We'll have to go through dozens more before we get a more accurate profile, but as of now, he's all over the place. He finds his victims at clubs, at parks, in restaurants; he abducts them from these places, their homes, from parking lots when they're at the grocery store. Some of them willingly follow him to his home with the promise of a quick fuck. He doesn't stick with a specific type. Sexual preference, race, age, hair color, build…none of that matters to him. This monster's only consistency is that his victims are male, with the exception of his 'Venus'. This guy's been at it a long time, so I'm sure he's had more than one."

"Exactly my point. The doctors who examined Brittany said she endured no sexual assault, and she hasn't suffered from any severe physical assault. She hasn't had sex in months, they said. This guy even admits in his notebooks that he doesn't lay a hand on her unless she gets physical with him and he has to restrain her. Why is she here?" Nick wondered. "She has got to play some role for him; otherwise, she wouldn't have been taken in the first place."

Gil studied Nick for a moment before saying anything. Nick looked exhausted, but genuinely curious, if a little angry. Gil could relate. He knew how vital it was for all of them to get inside this guy's head, if they wanted to stop him before they lost anyone else. Once again, Nick's dedication to his job was apparent, and Gil felt extraordinarily proud of him.

Still, as emotional as Nick was, Gil wasn't sure if Nick would really want to hear the theory he'd come up with pertaining to the female role in this twisted, psychotic fairy tale. Maybe it would be better if he told Nick now rather than later. If anything, it would probably make Nick even more determined to get this guy. "You haven't seen any of the videos yet, have you?"

Nick shook his head and sat back in his chair. "No, I've just been copying and taking notes from these notebooks. Considering how many times I've seen the AV guys makin' a mad dash to the toilet, I haven't exactly been beatin' down the door to do my share."

"Well, to get a good, clear picture of this guy, you're going to have to watch a few of them. You have to get to know this criminal if you want to catch him. I've seen a few, made that quick rush to the bathroom a time or two, but I think I might have figured out what she represents to him. You want to hear my theory? Then, when you continue reading and you see some of these movies, you can tell me if I'm correct or add your own theories."

"Anything to keep me from drivin' myself batty. Whatcha got?" Nick crossed his arms over his chest and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. His eyes focused in on Gil's, his attention unwavering.

Every nerve in Gil's body started tingling under Nick's intense, penetrating stare. That look alone could make him come all over himself. It took a supreme effort on his part not to shift in his chair as he said, "Do you know who Venus is?"

Nick nodded. "She's a goddess in ancient Roman mythology, I believe."

"Yes, she's the Roman version of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. My guess would be that our killer's 'Venus' is his physical manifestation of Aphrodite. If you've noticed, our killer is a Greek and Roman mythology buff. The AV guys have been going through his computer and his disks, and he's got about fifty gigabytes of documents on Greek and Roman mythology alone. That doesn't count all the books we found in his bedroom. I believe he has his 'Venus', Brittany, watch him during his acts of 'intimacy', as the Greek goddess would watch over lovers in the ancient myths. He seems to feel the goddess approves of his love for these men, and would thus be present to bear witness to the manifestation of that love, since he probably thinks he would be a favorite of hers."

"That's sick," Nick said, his lips curling in disgust. "He made Brittany watch him rape, torture, and kill because he wants a mythological goddess to approve? If he wanted Aphrodite with him, why didn't he just buy a freakin' statue and worship it like the ancient Greeks did? Why put a girl through that?"

"Because a cold statue wouldn't give him the same satisfaction as having a living, breathing, beautiful woman watch over his activities. You've seen the pictures of Brittany before she was missing."

"Yeah, she was beautiful, but not in that Barbie Doll sort of way."

Gil nodded. "More than that, it was a natural beauty. No enhancements or surgeries, she wore little or no make-up. Her mother said she was kind to everyone, helping out at charities and volunteering for community service. She was a loving, open person, the perfect candidate, someone who lived up to his particular requirements. I'm sure that if we find evidence of other girls amongst the shoeboxes and journals, they'll be much like Brittany was before the abduction."

Nick sighed and closed his eyes. To Gil's eyes, Nick looked tired and defeated. He knew exactly how Nick felt. "Do you think Brittany will ever recover from this?"

Gil gave Nick a tired shrug. "I don't know. I would hope so, but I won't hold my breath. She was his prisoner for nearly ten years; witnessing what he did almost every day for all that time, I honestly don't think she can. She's strong, though, and she lasted all those years, so perhaps she can with the proper help."

Nick nodded and stood up. "I hope she can. Listen, I need a break. I'm gonna go get somethin' to eat at that little Mexican restaurant up the street. What do you want me to pick up for you?"

"Whatever you get is fine," Gil said, watching Nick as he walked around the table to stand behind him. When Nick leaned down to whisper in his ear, Gil shivered.

"I hope you're still thinkin' about what we talked about a couple of weeks ago."

Gil nodded. "I think about it quite often," he admitted.

Nick pressed a brief kiss to Gil's neck, just below his ear. "Just checking. I'll be back soon."

Gil watched Nick until he was out of sight. Sighing, he sat back and rubbed his forehead. How was he to resist Nick when he acted like that? As the days went by, it was getting more and more difficult for Gil to remember why he was supposed to be thinking long and hard about this situation before acting upon it.

Gil knew, however, that he needed to make his decision soon.

Chapter Eight

Nick peeked through the door of Gil's office. As expected, Gil sat behind his desk, going through notes concerning the serial killer case. Nick knocked on the door, not wanting to spook Gil by just bursting in. "Hey, Gris. It's lunch time, and I brought the team stuff for sandwiches."

Gil didn't look up at him. "Fine. I'll be there in a moment."

Nick rolled his eyes, because he knew that was bullshit, just like all the other times he'd had to bring lunch to Gil since this case started. "No need, I already took the liberty," he said, holding up the covered plates stacked in his hand.

"I hope you don't think that I can eat all that," Gil said, closing the file and pushing it to the side.

"Hey, one of these is for me. I thought I'd join you for lunch." Gil smiled softly, making Nick's knees weak.

"I'd enjoy the company. Please, sit down," Gil said, motioning to a chair.

Nick pulled the chair in front of Gil's desk around to the side, so that he was sitting nearer to Gil. Handing Gil his plate, Nick sat and removed the cover from his own.

"Mm. Roast beef on whole wheat, just how I like it. You're always so good to me," Gil said, picking up one half of the sandwich and biting into it.

"Always," Nick said, picking up his own sandwich. He brought it up to his mouth but froze when he heard the rapturous groan coming from his dining partner. He looked over at Gil to find his eyes closed in bliss as he chewed.

Spying a drop of honey mustard resting on the corner of Gil's mouth, Nick licked his lips and half stood to lean towards Gil. Reaching out and grasping Gil's chin with one hand, Nick slowly licked away the errant mustard. He couldn't resist giving a soft, lingering kiss to the side of Gil's mouth. When he pulled back, he could see Gil's surprise, but Nick could also see the pleased gleam in his eyes. "You had a little mustard on your chin," Nick explained as he sat back and picked up his sandwich, biting into it as if what he'd just done was an everyday occurrence. If he was lucky, Gil might realize it could be an everyday occurrence, if he wanted it to be.

It took a few seconds before Gil said, "Thank you."

Nick noted that his voice was about an octave higher than normal, and Nick let out a mental shout of triumph. "You're welcome. What's on tap for the rest of tonight? You want me to do some more note taking from the binders, or do we have some leads to track down?"

Gil shook his head and put down his sandwich. After wiping his mouth and swallowing, he said, "I have a meeting in an hour with Atwater. He wants to be briefed on how we're doing."

"And naturally, you've been stonewalling him," Nick said with a chuckle. "You know how much that pisses him off."

"I now have enough to give him something he can leak to the press. Hopefully it'll get them off his case for the time being."

"What are you going to tell him?" Nick asked.

"There's been intense speculation about who our suspect is picking up. There's a misconception that he's only picking up gay, white men at clubs, and we both know that's not the case. Men out there need to know they're not necessarily safe because they're straight, black, or don't go to clubs. I'll also give him an update on the number of people we've identified."

"Think he'll be satisfied?"

Gil nodded. "I think so. He's not stupid. He knows just how delicate this situation is, and he learned his lesson with that whole Strip Strangler fiasco his predecessor indulged in. He knows I'll give him what I can, when I can."

"Well, what about me? Anything specific you need me to do tonight?"

Gil nodded. "A new case came in about five minutes before you did. There's been a burglary-homicide on Mead Avenue. Everyone not on our case is already out on assignment, and even with Patrick and the two temporary investigators, they're swamped. I need you to go out, process the scene, and bring the evidence to the lab. They'll take over the case after that, but they really need someone to take the scene."

Nick nodded and tossed his napkin on his half eaten sandwich. "Okay, Gris. I'll get going right now."

Gil looked at Nick with surprise. "You can finish your lunch, you know."

Nick gave Gil a sly grin. "I already ate. I just wanted to spend some time with you." Nick leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Gil's mouth. "See you in a little while. Have fun with Atwater."

Nick took the piece of paper from Gil's limp hand and smiled at him as he left the room. He couldn't help whistling to himself as he walked outside and slid into his SUV.

The look on Gil's face when he left was one Nick would cherish for some time. Gil's expression was priceless, a mixture of arousal, amusement, confusion and disappointment, all rolled into a look that was pure Gil Grissom.

In all honesty, Nick hoped that Gil would hurry up and say yes already so Nick could ask him on a real date. It was only a matter of time before Gil said yes, Nick knew. He might not know all the fun facts that made up the biography of Gilbert Grissom, but he did know Gil better than the man thought Nick did. He knew how Gil thought, and if he were going to say "thanks, but no thanks", he would have done it by now. Nick just had to wait a little longer. After all, it had only been a month, and they'd had little time for anything other than the serial killer case and sleep. Nick would just have to be patient.

"Hey, Brass, fancy meetin' you here," Nick said as he slipped under the yellow tape and strode up the walkway. He shone his flashlight on the ground in front of him, checking for evidence as he moved.

"Hi, Nicky. We've got a DB in the bedroom. We think our vic surprised the perp while the robbery was in progress. Multiple gunshot wounds to the head and chest. David's dropping off a body from another scene, said he'd be here in about half an hour."

Nick nodded and headed inside. "That'll give me some time to look around." Checking the lock on the front door, he said, "Doesn't look like this lock's been tampered with."

Brass pointed toward the back. "There's a broken sliding glass door in the kitchen. That seems to be the point of entry."

Nick nodded. "I think I'll go ahead and start the preliminary walkthrough."

"Go for it. The house is clear. The next-door neighbor heard the gunshots, called 911. I'm going to have a word with her. Call me if you need me."

"Sure thing," Nick said, walking into the kitchen.

It was fairly easy to put together what happened. The back door was broken from the outside and their suspect gained entry to the house. He'd probably made his way into the living room first, and then gone toward the bedroom. At some point just after that, their victim came into the house through the front door, and went straight toward the bedroom.

Nick walked into the bedroom and knelt next to the victim. Female, probably thirty to thirty-five years old, with dark hair and hazel eyes. She lay on her back, one arm above her head while the other rested over her abdomen. Nick noted there was a single gunshot wound to the head, and at least two in her chest and abdomen.

Nick carefully stepped around the vic and peered into the open closet. There was blood spatter all over the clothes.

Nick put down his kit and pulled out his camera to take photographs of the clothing. After taking a series of shots, he lowered the camera. As he did so, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, near the bed.

He turned around and dove as a flash erupted from the barrel of a gun.

Gil got out of his car and headed back toward the lab. The meeting with Atwater had gone better than he'd expected, and it had left Gil in a good mood. Now he was ready to throw himself back into the case and count the minutes until Nick got back to work with him.

Gil knew what his decision was concerning Nick. He'd known since the moment Nick had first kissed him, if he were to be completely honest with himself. Still, he had to take the time to make sure this was really what was best for Nick. Gil was many things, but relationship-experienced wasn't really one of them.

So he spent a lot of time watching Nick, seeing how he reacted in certain situations, such as when Gil was so focused on his case that he forgot to eat, or when Gil was in a bad mood and sniping at everyone who dared stray into his path. Every single time Nick managed to rise to the occasion and bring Gil's pulse back to normal with only a word or a well-placed touch.

Even better, Nick seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with him, no matter what the setting. Nick never failed to make Gil feel better, especially when it came to dealing with the aspects of the case concerning Michael. He was exactly what Gil needed.

Now Gil just had to get up the nerve to tell Nick yes. The very thought both exhilarated and terrified him.

"Gil!"

Gil saw Catherine and Sara running toward him. "Hey, Catherine. Where's the fire?"

"You haven't heard, have you?" Catherine said, stopping in front of him.

"Heard what? I just got back from a meeting with Atwater," Gil said. Seeing the worry and fear in the eyes of both women, he asked, "What is it? What's wrong? Has something happened?"

The hand Catherine placed on his shoulder didn't quell his rapidly rising anxiety. "Just tell me!"

"It seems the burglary suspect hadn't left the scene as everyone had thought. Nick's been shot. He's been taken to Columbia Sunrise Hospital."

Gil stared at them for a few moments, waiting for the punch line. When none was forthcoming, Gil said, "I'm going to the hospital. You two go out to the scene. Now!"

Gil didn't wait for a reply from either woman, and he all but sprinted into the lab. He made his way down to his office, yelling at anyone who dared get in his way. He threw his files into the cabinet, and then locked both it and his office. As he strode by the front desk, he said, "Anyone who needs me, I'll be at Columbia Sunrise. Tell whomever calls that it had better be a life or death situation."

Even after forcing himself not to break all known traffic laws, Gil still made it to the hospital in record time. It was difficult for him to keep his mind on driving and not think of Nick, but he managed to get there in one piece.

He barely took the time to turn off his car before he jumped out and ran toward the emergency room. Inside, he found the admittance desk. "Excuse me, I'm here to inquire about an incoming patient, Nicholas Stokes. He was shot at a scene he was investigating."

The nurse nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm working on his paperwork right now. Mr. Stokes arrived here about ten minutes ago. They've rushed him into emergency surgery. May I ask your name, sir?"

"Gil Grissom. I'm Nick's supervisor. I would appreciate it if you could tell me anything." He gave the nurse the most pleading look he could muster, hoping she would take pity on a poor, old, worried man.

The nurse looked at him with a pang of regret. "I'm sorry, but the only contact he has on his list is a Ms. Sara Sidle. Do you happen to know her?"

Gil groaned out loud and cursed inwardly, ruing the day they'd decided to draw names for who got assigned as emergency contact instead of just picking someone. Catherine and her ideas. "Yes, I do. She's currently working the scene where Nick was shot. I'll call her right away." Gil felt around in his jacket, but he seemed to have misplaced his cell. He probably left it in the car. "May I use your phone?"

"Of course," the nurse told him, dialing the outside extension before handing him the phone.

He dialed Sara's number and waited impatiently as it rung seven times before she answered. "Sidle."

"Sara, I'm at the hospital. You're on Nick's contact sheet, so call Warrick to take over for you and get down here now."

"Shit! Sorry, Gris. I'd forgotten all about being Nick's emergency contact. I'll be right there."

"Thank you, Sara. Hurry, but don't get in an accident." Gil hung up the phone and thanked the nurse. She gave him directions to the waiting area and he went to sit down and wait for Sara.

He slumped down in his chair and closed his eyes. This couldn't be happening. This was a nightmare, one of those rare horrific dreams that plagued him. Nick, his Nicky, wasn't supposed to be in some sterile, cold operating room, being sliced open. Nick was supposed to be at a crime scene, one not unlike many others they'd all investigated.

Only this one was different, because Nick had been there, and he was shot. Now he was fighting for his life, and the thought that Nick might die before Gil ever had a chance to tell Nick how he felt just killed Gil. If Gil could kick his own ass, he would do so willingly and with relish.

What had he been thinking? In their line of work, he better than anyone should know tomorrow was never a guaranteed thing. Did he really think he had all the time in the world to mull over Nick's proposition? Now, Nick might never know Gil's decision.

God, had it really only been a couple of hours since Nick had been kissing him in his office while they had lunch, trying to convince him they should go for it? What Gil wouldn't give to go back just a few hours and let Nick know his answer was yes.

It was the most agonizing twenty minutes of his life before Sara finally showed up, coming straight to him as soon as she saw him from the door of the waiting area. He stood up and met her halfway. "Did you speak to the nurse? Is there any information? How's Nicky doing?"

"Calm down, Gil," Sara said. She turned him around and walked him back to the sofa he'd been sitting on, though why she was doing it he didn't know. He'd expected that they'd be going elsewhere, like to find out about Nick.

When they were seated, she said, "Nick's condition is serious, but stable. They've taken him into emergency surgery, to remove the bullets and repair the damage. Luckily, neither of the shots damaged any internal organs, though it looks like Nick's right humerus was fractured from the bullet. They're going to have to reset that as well. They say he might have a slight concussion. They found a knot on the back of his head, probably from when he hit the floor. He's also lost a lot of blood. It will be a couple of hours before we hear anything, but the doctor will come here directly."

"Will they allow me to sit with him? I want to be able to see him," Gil told her. Sara gave him an odd look, but he couldn't care less what she thought. All he could think about was Nick. It was all he wanted to think about.

"Yeah, I gave them permission to let you into his rooms and for them to speak to you, since I know Nick won't care. He would want you there. I know you two have gotten closer since this serial case started." She placed a hand on his arm and he jumped, pulling away almost at once. "Please, Gil, calm down. You look like you're ready to jump up and bolt into the operating room."

Not realizing until that moment how wound up he really was, Gil took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. "I'm sorry, Sara. I'm just so worried about him. This wasn't supposed to happen. I sent him on this assignment because everyone else was on other cases and I thought he could use a break from sitting in the lab and reading all night long. Why the hell was that gunman in the house, do you have any idea?"

Sara shook her head. "The officers checked the entire house, closets included, and they found no one. They have no idea where the perp came from, but you can bet we're going to find out. Hopefully Nick will have an answer when he's ready to talk."

"All right, but no one's bothering him until he's strong enough to deal with it. What about the bastard that did this to Nicky? Did they catch him?"

"Oh, that's right, Catherine and I didn't get a chance to tell you. He tried to escape, pulled his gun on Brass, who was out in the side yard talking to a neighbor when the suspect ran into him. Brass told him to stop, and when he didn't and pulled his gun, Brass shot and killed him."

"I don't know whether I'm disappointed I can't beat the snot right out of the man or if I'm relieved because this means Nick won't have to deal with him and face him in a trial."

Sara shrugged and sat back, picking up a magazine from the table beside the sofa. "I don't know. Feel both? Neither? Be glad that he didn't kill Nick? He's gone, and we should focus on Nick now. It's not a good situation, and Nick's probably going to be jumpy for a while, not that I could ever blame him. Even Brass is beside himself. I could tell he blames himself for Nick's condition."

"Have you always been this smart?" Gil asked as he leaned his head against the back of the sofa and looked up at the ceiling.

"It's a gift," said Sara, chuckling softly. "How's your pulse?"

Gil smirked. His team members really did remember every single thing he ever said. "It's fine. I'm better now."

"Good. I don't think anyone will be too happy with me if I allowed you to pop a blood vessel," Sara said, standing up. "I'm going to find a soda machine or something. You want anything?"

"Something to drink, perhaps? Anything but Mountain Dew," he said, shuddering slightly.

"I'll see what I can find. You, relax. Brass said he'd be here as soon as he was finished overseeing the scene," Sara said, giving Gil a pat on the arm before leaving.

Gil stared at the floor while he thought about what could have happened. If Nick had any idea someone was near, he wouldn't have let his guard down. What made the situation different? He was tempted to call Catherine, except his cell phone was in the car. So, calling Catherine would have to wait until Sara came back.

Ten excruciatingly slow minutes passed before Sara finally re-emerged, loaded down with sodas and enough snacks to give an elephant diabetes. "I didn't know what to buy or how long we'd be here, or who would show up when, so I brought a little bit of everything," she said.

Gil took the Pepsi Sara handed him. "Thanks." He snagged a bag of SweetTarts to chew on, which would hopefully save his teeth the wear and tear of grinding them together. "Can I borrow your phone? I want to call Catherine."

"Sure. Where's yours?" Sara asked as she handed him the phone.

"I think I left it in the car. I remember tossing it in the passenger seat, but I obviously didn't pick it up when I came in," Gil said. He dialed Catherine's number and waited for her to pick up.

"Give me your keys and I'll go get your phone," Sara offered, holding out her hand.

Gil dug into his pocket and pulled out his keys. As he handed them to Sara, Catherine came on the line.

"Sara, how is he?"

"It's not Sara, Catherine, it's me. Nick's in surgery right now. The bullet that entered his right arm fractured his humerus. They haven't said much about the second shot, though they think all his vital organs are undamaged. He's lost a lot of blood, and he might have a concussion. When I find out anything, I'll call you."

"You might want to call Greg at the lab, because he's beside himself. He's been trying to call you, but he can't get you on your cell phone. He just called me again."

"I left my phone in the car. Sara went to get it, and I will call Greg. Now, tell me what you've found?"

"Well, the original murder scene has been compromised, but if the shooter is the original perpetrator, it won't really matter. The secondary scene in the bedroom shows that Nick was standing in front of the closet taking pictures of the scene when he was shot. Secondary blood spatter confirms that. Phillips is almost finished with his scene, and Ecklie told him to get over here as soon as he's done. He's going to take over, and I'm sending Warrick to you while I go back to the lab to check on the newly processed evidence for the serial case. Greg's going to go to the hospital as soon as the FBI's DNA tech gets here. As soon as I'm sure everything's in order, I'll be there as well."

"You don't think Conrad's going to be irritated that we've all dropped the case?" Gil asked.

Catherine snorted. "One of our own was shot, and it's Nick," she said, as if that explained everything.

It probably did, Gil figured. "All right. I'll call if I hear anything." Gil looked up to see Sara walking in, talking on his cell phone.

"Sara is back, talking on my phone, probably to Greg. I'll see you in a while."

"Bye, Gil. Take care. He's going to be all right," Catherine said before hanging up.

Sara hung up just as Gil did. "That was Greg. He's on his way here."

"That's what Catherine said. Come. Sit. Be worried with me," Gil said, patting the chair next to him.

Sara sat down and sighed deeply. "At least we know Greg will be a source of entertainment when he gets here. He sounded like a hummingbird on cocaine when I spoke to him on the phone."

"Catherine says he's really worried. He and Nick have always been friends, but it seems they became really close after the lab blew up."

Sara smirked. "They dating or something."

Gil shook his head. "As attractive as Greg may be, I don't think Nick looks at him that way."

"Attractive, huh? Does someone have a little crush on a certain spiky-haired C.S.I.?" Sara said.

Her tone was teasing, but Gil still heard the underlying note of hurt. "Alas, no. As fond as I am of dear Gregory, he does not hold my fragile heart in his hands," Gil said with a chuckle. "Magazine?" he asked, holding up an out-of-date copy of People Weekly.

Smiling, Sara took it and said, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Gil said, picking up a National Geographic and turning to an article on leafcutter ants.

It was three and a half hours before the surgeon finally came out. "Ms. Sidle?"

Sara stood up. "That's me," she said, stepping closer to the doctor. "How's Nick?"

Gil, Greg, Warrick, Brass, and Catherine all gathered behind Sara as the doctor spoke.

"Barring any unforeseen complications, Mr. Stokes is going to be fine. Both shots went straight through, so there weren't any surprises there, and we were able to get the bleeding under control quickly. The humerus of Mr. Stokes right arm was fractured, but we were able to restructure the break. He will have to wear a cast for six weeks and undergo physical therapy. He doesn't have a concussion as we feared, but he has a painful knot on the back of his head."

"When can we see him?" she asked.

"He's in recovery. He'll be there for another hour before he's moved to a private room. When he gets there, one person can go in at a time. Will you be staying the night with him, Ms. Sidle?"

Sara shook her head. "No, Mr. Grissom will be staying with Nick."

"Very well. I'll have a nurse notify you as soon as he's moved."

Once the doctor was gone, Gil let out a relieved sigh, which was mirrored by everyone else.

Greg sat down before his knees gave out on him. "Oh, thank God," he said softly.

"I heard that," Warrick said, sitting down next to Greg.

Catherine clapped her hands and smiled brightly. "I don't know about anyone else, but I could use a burger right about now. Sara, you want to go with me to pick up some food? My treat, guys."

Sara nodded. "Sure, Catherine. Any special orders?"

"No onions on mine," Greg said as he reached over Warrick to grab a magazine.

"Everything for me," Warrick said.

"Me, too," Brass replied.

"Make mine a chicken sandwich," Gil said.

After Sara and Catherine left, Greg looked at Gil. "You really think he's going to be okay?"

Gil nodded, even though he wouldn't feel completely sure until he saw Nick. "We'll make sure of it, Greg."

"Someone's probably going to have to stay with Nick for a while after he gets out," Warrick said.

"I'll do it," Gil offered quickly, probably too quickly judging from the looks on the others' faces. "Ecklie's been hounding me to take a few days off anyway, since I haven't had one since this case started, and I can always make copies of the binders and work from Nick's house. "

"I'm sure Nick will enjoy your company," Greg said before Warrick could say anything. "The rest of us will help out any way we can."

"And I'm sure Nick will appreciate it," Gil said.

"Well, he did take care of me after the lab explosion. It's the least I could do for him," Greg said before burying his nose in the magazine.

A little over an hour and a half later, Gil stepped into Nick's room. Everyone else had already visited for a few minutes before going back to the lab or home. Sara had signed the proper papers, thereby allowing Gil to stay with Nick, for which Gil was grateful. He wondered if she would have been so willing if she knew it was Nick he was in love with.

Gil slid the chair closer to the bed and sat down, and as soon as he did, exhaustion made itself known. Gil hadn't realized how much stress he was under until now, and he felt completely drained. Try as he might, he couldn't keep himself from falling into a light doze.

Gil's eyes snapped open when he heard a hoarse groan. He sat forward, staring hard at Nick. "Nicky?" Gil whispered as he took Nick's hand in his. Relief washed over him as Nick's eyes blinked open slowly.

Gil smiled at Nick as soon as his eyes focused. "Hey, Nicky. Welcome back. No, don't move," he said when Nick tried to shift his body and grimaced in pain.

"Wha-?"

"Shh. Don't talk. You're in the hospital. You were at a crime scene, and the suspect was still in the house. He shot you, but you're going to be okay. You've been out of surgery and sleeping for about-" Gil looked at his watch. "Six hours." Had he really been asleep that long? He must have really been tired. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah. Tired," Nick managed to get out before closing his eyes again.

Smiling, Gil reached out to stroke Nick's hair. Nick was letting it grow out again, so it was in that awkward stage where it stuck out in all directions, especially after the last ten and a half hours. Gil found it endearing. "Get some sleep, Nick. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" Nick mumbled into the pillow.

"Yes," Gil promised. Once Nick was asleep again, Gil went to the door and called for the nurse. He told her about Nick waking up for a few seconds. He stood back and watched as she checked Nick over.

"He's doing fine," the nurse said, smiling at Gil. "This young man is very strong and determined to live. I'm sure he'll be up and badgering you about coming back to work in no time."

Gil chuckled softly. He really hoped so. Nick was really cute when he whined. "I don't doubt that he will. He loves his job."

"I hope he keeps getting to do it for a very long time," the nurse said as she fussed with Nick's blankets. "He's too young to be in here under these circumstances."

"Anyone's too young to be in here under these circumstances," Gil said. "Are you sure it's all right for me to stay here?"

The nurse gave him another smile. "Of course. Visiting hours are over, but these are special circumstances. Don't worry, none of the nurses will hassle you over it. Let one of us know if he wakes up. Someone will be here to check on him in about an hour, if you don't call before then."

"Okay, thank you," Gil said as he reclaimed his chair at Nick's bedside. He was going to regret sitting in this chair for hours on end, but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care about anything but making sure that Nick was going to be fine.

Several hours passed, with Nick waking up on occasion, but only staying awake for a minute or two at a time. Gil tried to stay up as much as he could, but eventually he succumbed to his body's demand for rest, and he once again fell asleep in the chair, his hand gently cradling Nick's.

Fingers gently rubbing the back of his hand snapped Gil out of his light sleep. As soon as his eyes came into contact with Nick's, he jumped out of his chair-to be honest, he stood up slowly, in deference to his stiff joints-and bent over so his face was close to Nick's. "Hey, Nicky. Have you been up long?"

Nick gave him a tired smile. "Nah, just a few minutes. You looked so damned cute sleeping that I didn't wanna wake you."

"I see they have you on some hallucinogens. And you can wake me up any time. How're you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain, because if you are, I'll call the nurse and see if they can't up your pain meds?"

"I'm okay for now. Sore, achy, but no real sharp pains. Whatever they've got me on is working just fine. I'll let y'all know when I'm hurtin'. Are you okay? I know you've been sittin' in that chair since I've been here."

"I'm stiff and my body's going to make me pay for the abuse, but there was no way I was going to be anywhere else. Jesus, Nick, you scared the shit out of me. There we were at lunch, indulging in some highly inappropriate behavior in my office, and then the next thing I know, I'm speeding to the hospital after Catherine and Sara told me about the shooting. I thought I was going to lose you, and I'd never be able to tell you that I want to give this whole relationship thing a go."

The smile was a bit shaky, but the happiness in Nick's eyes was unmistakable. "Really? You really wanna do this?"

Gil leaned forward, closing the few inches of distance that there was between them, and pressed his lips against Nick's, smiling against Nick's mouth when the kiss was answered eagerly. It didn't matter that neither of them had seen a toothbrush in far too long, it was still the sweetest kiss Gil had ever received.

"You have no idea how happy I am right now," Nick said after their mouths parted. His voice was thick, heavy and hoarse with emotion and the weariness of his condition.

"Oh, I think I might have some idea," Gil said with a smile, kissing Nick quickly once more. "We will talk more about this later, but for now I really need to get a nurse in here to check on you. I know Greg and Sara are in the waiting room, since they were going to stop by before work, and I really should talk to them."

"Okay, Gil. Promise you won't be long?" Nick asked as Gil pressed the button for the nurse's station.

"I promise. I'll be back in a few minutes, even if I have to staple Greg and Sara's mouths shut to get them to quit asking questions."

"Okay, Tell 'em I said hi, and go work hard. And not to worry about me. I'm fine."

The nurse came through the door just as Gil backed away from the bed. "I take it our young Mr. Stokes is awake," she said, coming up to the bed and smiling at Nick. "How are you feeling?"

While Nick answered, Gil walked out of the room and quickly made his way to the waiting room, where Greg and Sara were talking quietly. At least now he could tell them with complete assurance that Nick was awake and going to be fine, and with Nick's message they shouldn't feel too bad about going to the lab and working the case. "Hey, you two, Nick's awake," he said, reaching out and ruffling Greg's hair.

"How is he?" Greg asked as he and Sara stood up. "Is he okay?"

"Yes, he's sore and very tired, but he's going to be fine. The nurse is with him now, checking him over. Really, Greg, he's going to be fine, and he says hello. Also, he wants you to go to work and not worry about him, and quite frankly, so do I."

"Can we see him, just for a minute?" Greg begged. "I promise, we'll only be a minute. I just wanna say hi."

Gil nodded. "I'm sure they'll let you in for a few minutes, since you'll be at work during visiting hours. Come on."

Gil led them to Nick's room and stuck his head in. The nurse was just finishing with Nick. "Excuse me, but I have a couple of colleagues out here who'd like to come in, just for a minute. They'll be at work during visiting hours, and they have to see with their own eyes that he's alive and well."

The nurse looked at Nick, seeming to assess his condition, and nodded. "All right, but only for a few minutes. He needs his rest, and it is before visiting hours."

"Thank you," Gil said, ushering the two in front of him. "I'm going downstairs to find something to eat," he told Greg. "Tell Nick so he doesn't worry, okay?"

"I will," Greg said, throwing Gil a blinding smile as he walked into the room. "Nicky!"

Gil smiled and shook his head at the cheerful greeting. Leaving Nick in Greg and Sara's capable hands, Gil headed downstairs. He considered going into the cafeteria, but the mere thought of eating hospital food made him cringe. He knew there was a 24-hour Jack in the Box about a quarter mile down the road, and while he wasn't particularly fond of fast food, it seemed an infinitely better choice than whatever he might find at the hospital.

When Gil got back, he peeked inside Nick's room, smiling when he saw Nick turn his head and arch his eyebrows. "I'm back."

"So I see. What took so long?"

Gil stepped inside and held up a bag and two beverages. "I come with contraband." Gil sat down in his chair and pulled out his chicken sandwich and extra-large fries. "I couldn't bear the thought of hospital food. I asked the nurse, and she said you can have a few fries and some of the chocolate shake, but not to overdo it."

Nick took the proffered shake. "Thanks."

Gil watched, mesmerized, as Nick wrapped his lips around the straw and started sucking. Shaking himself after a few seconds, he focused on unwrapping his sandwich. "When did Greg and Sara leave?"

"Just a few minutes ago. They didn't want to leave until you got back, but I told them to go ahead. I'm a big boy. I can stay alone for a few minutes."

Gil smiled at him. "We know you are, but that doesn't keep any of us from worrying. Hearing that you'd been shot was the scariest moment of my life. We were all scared. You should have seen Greg. He was so strung out on nervous energy that one of the nurses actually asked me if I wanted a sedative for him."

Nick laughed at that, wincing when the movement jarred his shoulder. "I can imagine."

"It was amusing. Warrick and Catherine both looked prepared to rip the arms off anyone who dared come too close to you. Sara spent the entire time you were in surgery chewing on her nails, something she only does when she's suffering from extreme stress and anxiety, and Brass is a big pile of guilt. He feels like you being here is his fault."

Nick shook his head and nabbed a fry from the bag. "It wasn't. They guy came from behind me, away from the door. I was thinkin' about that before you came in, and I think they missed the guy because he was hiding under the bed. It was one of those four-poster beds that rest high off the floor, and he could have slid under there easily. I still don't know why the guy didn't just leave."

"There was a car just around the corner and the officer was able to get there within a minute of the call. The suspect most likely stopped to pick up something he may have dropped, or perhaps he wanted to grab more items from the house. Whatever the reason, he found himself trapped inside and had no choice but to hide."

"It's still not Brass's fault. Hell, I wouldn't think to look under the bed for a suspect. I will now, though."

Gil smirked at Nick's sorry attempt at humor. "So will the rest of us."

Nick handed Gil the shake. "Think I can have a sip of your soda?"

"Sure, here you are. So, will Greg be gracing us with his presence later?"

"Yeah, he will be. He's going to stay with me while you go home to shower and shave, and then you need to go in to the lab."

Gil was about to protest, but Nick stopped him. "No, you are goin' in. Greg already told me you're gonna stay with me after I'm out of the hospital, so while I'm here, you need to go in at your scheduled time. I've got lots of people who'll come in and sit with me while you're not here. And this way, Ecklie won't pitch a fit if you take off a few days."

Gil still wanted to argue, since he didn't really want Nick out of his sight, but he had to admit Nick was right. "All right, but Greg better not exhaust you."

"He won't. Would you mind doing somethin' for me, though?"

Gil stood up and leaned over to give Nick a kiss. "Of course I don't. I'd do anything for you."

"Could you take my keys and go to my house? I'm gonna need some clothes for when I do get out, and I really don't fancy wearin' this flimsy little gown while Cath and Sara are around, so maybe you could bring me some sleep pants?"

"It would be my pleasure. Anything else?"

Nick nodded. "In my bedroom, there's an address book in the top drawer of the nightstand on the left-hand side of the bed. Could you bring it to me?"

Gil stroked Nick's hair. "Why? Planning on calling some old lovers to sneak in while I'm away?" he teased.

"How'd ya guess?" Nick teased back. "Nah, I need to call my parents, and I don't have their number in my cell phone. I keep meanin' to, but I usually end up doin' somethin' else and forget."

"I'll bring it to you. Don't forget to write down the code to your alarm for me."

"Hand me a pen and paper and I'll do it now. Otherwise, I might forget." When Gil handed him both, he said, "Thanks. This is the code to turn off the alarm, and the one underneath it is the one you use to set it."

"Good. Now will you do me a favor?" Gil asked, taking the paper from Nick's hands and sliding it into his pocket.

"Anything," Nick said with a yawn.

"Go to sleep. I can tell you're exhausted."

Nick nodded. Barely able to keep his eyes open any longer, his sleepy gaze fixed on Gil. "What are you gonna do?"

Gil pointed to the recliner in the corner. "I'm going to try to get some more sleep. I'll be right here if you need me."

Nick puckered his lips and waited for his goodnight kiss. Once Gil complied, Nick said, "'Night."

"Good night, Nicky." By the time Gil sat down in the recliner, Nick was already asleep. It didn't take Gil long to follow suit.

Chapter Nine

It felt good to be home, Nick thought to himself as he leaned against the wall, waiting for Gil to turn off the alarm and close and lock the door behind them. Everything was a little dusty, as it had been a week since he'd been there, but other than that, it looked the same as always.

"Come on, Nick, let's get you to the couch," Gil said.

Using Gil for support made walking a little easier, but he was still sore as hell. He sat down carefully, keeping in mind he still had stitches front and back. Nick was almost too tired to move, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face as he watched Gil fuss over him, lifting his feet on the coffee table and covering him with the blanket draped over the back of the couch.

Once Nick was situated to Gil's satisfaction, Gil said, "Stay right there and I'll get you some water. It's time for your pills."

When Gil got back from the kitchen, Nick took the water bottle and pills without a fuss. His chest was starting to hurt. "You don't hafta stay, you know," Nick said with a grin, knowing what the answer would be. "I can take care of myself…probably." The look on Gil's face was the same one he got whenever he caught Greg pulling one of his stunts in the lab, and Nick's grin grew wider. "It wouldn't be too difficult. Of course, I might bust a stitch or two, but I can manage."

Gil glared at him for a moment longer before he leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "Take your pills before you get sent back to the hospital with another gunshot wound."

Trying but failing to look remorseful, Nick swallowed his medication. "I'm glad to be back home. I was beginning to go nuts in the hospital. Havin' only white walls, bad TV, and nothing to do was about to drive me up the wall. Of course, some great company saved me from insanity. Speakin' of which, are you gonna sit down next to me, or do you prefer standin' there all night?"

"I prefer to see you in bed, getting some rest," Gil said, tilting his head to look at Nick over the top of his glasses. "Your parents will be here tomorrow, and you need your strength."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. I don't see why they're comin' out. I told them I'm fine, and I know they're both busy."

"They're your parents and they care. Besides, you're the one who slipped and told them you were in a relationship now. We haven't had sex yet, and I'm already required to do the parental approval dance."

"Aww, poor baby. My parent's won't bite. They've known for a long time that you're an important part of my life. I just didn't tell them the boss I always went on and on about was the person I was in love with. Now that they know, there won't be any surprises. And if there are, I can always blame it on the medication."

"Amusing," Gil said dryly.

Nick could tell Gil was trying not to smile. "Can we get somethin' to eat, first? The hospital food sucked and I'm starvin'. I promise, I'll be good and go to bed right after I eat."

Gil laughed at him. Nick pouting was damn near irresistible. Gil knew it would be a good idea to keep that bit of information to himself, if only to keep Nick from using it to his advantage. "How does Chinese sound?"

"Heavenly," Nick groaned. "The number's on the list by the phone in the kitchen. I don't care what you order, as long as I get my-"

"Broccoli and beef, I know," Gil finished for him. "It's your favorite."

Nick tilted his head back as Gil leaned down, and their lips met in a slow, gentle kiss that left him grinning like a fool when Gil finally pulled back. "You take good care of me."

"I have a personal investment in doing so. Rest while I order it."

Nick laid his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. The next thing he was aware of was the doorbell ringing. When Gil came in and started unpacking the food, Nick sat up straighter, grimacing at the warning twinges his body was sending out. "Sorry. Didn't mean to fall asleep."

"You'll hear no complaints from me. I'm the one who wants you to rest, remember?" Gil said as he started filling two plates.

He must have really been in a sound sleep, since Gil had managed to bring plates, utensils and glasses into the living room without him hearing a thing. He shouldn't be too surprised, though, since Gil often moved like a stealth bomber, sneaking up behind people and scaring years of their lives out of them.

Nick rested his plate on his lap and used his good hand to eat. It was rough going, but he managed to eat a good deal of his food before he exhausted himself.

Gil seemed to know he was done and ready to go to bed, because he picked up Nick's plate and his own, placing them on the table. "Now that you're all finished, let's get you into bed," Gil said, standing up and helping Nick to his feet.

Nick leaned his body against Gil's, not because he needed the help, but more because he simply could. The hand on Nick's waist slid down to his hip and squeezed, telling Nick that Gil understood. "Sleep with me tonight?" Nick asked.

"It will be a chore, but I think I can stomach sleeping next to you."

Nick couldn't bring himself to feign irritation, since Gil said it as he had his face buried behind Nick's ear, nuzzling just behind the earlobe. "If you'd rather sleep in the guest room, the bed is all made up," he managed to shoot back. It probably would have been a more effective threat if he hadn't yawned while he said it.

"Stop trying to intimidate me. It hasn't worked before, and it won't now. Now, little Nicky, where do you keep your jammies?"

Nick favored him with a droopy-eyed glare. "Keep that up and you'll be sleepin' on the lawn. My sleep pants are in the bottom right dresser drawer, as you damn well know."

"We haven't had a first date and already I'm being threatened with the doghouse," Gil said with a long-suffering sigh as he went to the dresser.

Nick made himself useful and undid his pants, sliding them and his underwear off his body to pool on the floor around his ankles. It was extremely awkward with his arm in a sling, but he did manage to get it done. Feeling somewhat accomplished, he sat down on the bed before he fell over and waited for Gil to slip his legs into his sleep pants. If he weren't so exhausted, Nick would probably be embarrassed that the first time Gil saw him virtually naked was under these circumstances, but the need for sleep was overwhelming. Once they were on, he slipped into bed and fell asleep almost the moment his head hit the pillow.

When Nick finally awoke, he smiled softly at the warmth pressed against his back. Nick reached down and wrapped his hand around the hand that Gil had resting on his stomach and squeezed.

Kisses were pressed against his shoulder, just above the bandage covering the exit wound of the first shot. He tried to turn, but just then a bolt of pain shot through his upper body and he released a strangled yelp.

"Don't move, Nicky. Your meds have worn off. I'll get your pills and some water, then I'll get you something to eat," Gil said, starting to rise.

Nick tried to stop him despite the pain he was in. "I like this. I wanna stay this way a while longer."

Gil kissed his shoulder again. "As soon as I get you some breakfast and your pills, and we get cleaned up a bit, I promise we'll come back to bed, and I'll hold you for as long as you want."

"Really?" Nick asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. "Don't you have to get ready for work?" Nick thought he remembered Gil saying his days off wouldn't start until tomorrow night.

Gil shook his head. "Everyone knows I've taken a couple of days off to take care of you, so when they heard you were getting out a day early, Warrick and Sara offered to split this shift between them so I could stay with you. Catherine photocopied a few of the binders and brought them to me at the hospital yesterday, so I can work from here whenever you're sleeping, which you will be doing quite a lot of for the next few days. Besides, your parents are coming in tonight, which should make you happy, even if they are going to smother you to death. I know you haven't seen them in a while."

Nick smiled. It would be great, especially now that he could officially show off his new boyfriend. Sure, they knew from the phone calls, emails, and letters he'd sent that Gil was an important part of his life, but Nick had never told them he'd fallen in love with him. "Yeah, I haven't. I've missed them, but I just couldn't get back to Texas for Christmas last year. Probably not this year, either, since I'm takin' so much time with this injury."

"Don't worry about that. You were injured in the line of duty and you're getting paid leave, which will not affect your vacation time. Besides, you have more than enough sick days saved up to cover your time off if you needed it. Now let me go get your pills," Gil said.

Nick stayed as still as possible while waiting for Gil. Truthfully, the pain wasn't too bad as long as he didn't make any sudden, jerky movements. One thing was certain; he wasn't looking forward to weeks of rehab once the cast was off his arm. Still, he knew his condition could have been a great deal worse.

"Here you go," Gil said, placing the pills and water on the nightstand.

Nick let Gil do most of the work in shifting him so he could sit upright. "Thanks," he said, taking his medicine.

"Greg went shopping for us yesterday and stocked us with enough food to last a couple of weeks, even with your parents here. The possibilities are endless, so what do you want for breakfast?"

Nick thought for a minute while enjoying the way Gil was petting his hair. "You know what I'd like, if it's not too much trouble?"

"What is that? I doubt whatever you want could be too much trouble."

Nick smirked. Sure, Gil said that now. Let's see if he said the same thing a couple of weeks from now, when Nick was semi-healed and bored as hell because they wouldn't let him go back to work. "I'd like what you cooked the first time you made me breakfast. You know, the omelets and hash brown casserole of your mom's. I really liked that."

Gil smiled and pressed a quick kiss to Nick's forehead. "Your wish is my command. I'll go put on the casserole and we can get you cleaned up while it's in the oven. You rest, and I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Could you hand me the remote?" Nick asked, pointing toward the television. When Gil retrieved the remote control and handed it to him, Nick grabbed Gil's hand and pulled him down for a real kiss. When they broke apart, Nick said, "Now you can go." He laughed at the glassy-eyed glare that Gil gave him as he walked out.

When Gil returned to the bedroom, he found Nick flipping through the channels. He looked annoyed. "Something wrong, Nick?"

"I have two hundred channels. You'd think I'd be able to find somethin' to watch," he said, finally turning off the set and tossing the remote on the bed.

"It's time for your bath anyway," Gil said, holding up a plastic trash bag and some tape.

"I see you've done this before," Nick said. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Ow."

"Careful," Gil said. "At least you're not wearing a shirt. This'll be much easier."

Nick sat patiently while Gil maneuvered his arm into the bag and taped him up. Gil was gentle, so Nick felt little pain. It touched him how careful Gil was being with him, treating him as if he were fragile. It had been a long time since anyone had treated him so tenderly.

"You know, if you keep treatin' me like this, you're gonna spoil me," Nick teased, laughing at the bemused expression on Gil's face.

"If I ever get shot, I expect the same treatment."

Nick glared at him. "That isn't the least bit funny, Gil." Gil had had a number of close calls over the years, and Nick swore at least ten years had been cut off his lifespan because of Gil.

"I know, I shouldn't have said that. I apologize," Gil said.

"That's okay, just don't do it again," Nick said, kissing Gil's temple.

"I won't. Come on, let's get you in the shower."

Nick let Gil guide him into the bathroom. Leaning against the sink, he watched with undisguised interest as Gil slipped out of his clothes and reached in to turn on the shower. So he was cut. "You're cut," he blurted out. He really had to stop doing that.

Gil looked down at his flaccid dick. "Yes, I am. My mother was raised Jewish, but converted to Catholicism when she met my father. My maternal grandparents hated that she'd converted, so my mother and father had me circumcised when I was a baby in an attempt to placate them. They were trying to make peace with my grandparents, but it didn't work. I don't ever remember meeting them. Why, did you think I wouldn't be cut?"

"I have to admit I'd wondered about it. It doesn't make a lick of difference to me, though. In my fantasies, sometimes you would be cut, and other times you wouldn't." Nick studied him while he adjusted the water temperature. "My fantasies didn't have anything on reality, though. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?" Nick hoped the change in conversation would get Gil's mind off his family. Nick noticed the melancholy in Gil's voice when he spoke about his family, and the last thing Nick wanted to do was bring Gil's mood down.

"I'm really not," Gil replied, walking over to Nick and sliding his hands under the elastic of Nick's pants to rest on Nick's hips. "Want some help getting these off?"

Nick pushed down the crude remark that immediately surfaced in his head, dismissing it as something Greg would say, and drawled, "If you want. I won't stop ya."

Gil pushed Nick's pants down his hips and legs, keeping as much contact with Nick's skin as possible.

If Nick had the ability to jump Gil right now, he would already have Gil backed up against the wall, rubbing himself against him like a bitch in heat, his hands exploring every inch of skin he could reach. Instead, he stood there and moaned his appreciation as hands slid back up his thighs and curved around his hips to cup his ass.

Gil smiled at the reaction he got from Nick. He knew he had to be careful, because Nick's injuries were still sensitive and he could very well rip some stitches, but Gil thought there might be something he could do for Nick that would be well received. Not yet though.

Gil squeezed the tempting ass under his hands once more before sliding them up to Nick's waist and guiding him toward the shower. "Sit," he ordered, pointing to the shower stool.

Nick was never happier than he was right now that he'd had one put in. "Are you going to wash me all over?" he asked as seductively as he could while half drugged and wearing a trash bag over his arm. Obviously it wasn't very if the amusement plastered all over Gil's face was any indication.

"You're cute when you're drugged," Gil said with a laugh. "And yes, I'll wash you, as long as you behave. I don't want you hurting yourself."

"I promise," Nick huffed and pretended to pout. Then he gave Gil a sly, mischievous smile. "Where you gonna start cleanin' first?" he asked with mock innocence, his eyes traveling down to his own crotch and then back up to Gil's face.

Gil rolled his eyes. "I'm going to start at the top and work my way down," Gil said as he grabbed the shower massager and drenched Nick's head. Then he grabbed the shampoo and slowly rubbed it into Nick's hair.

Nick didn't bother hiding his content groan as Gil massaged the shampoo into his hair. "Oh, man, I'm gonna love the next few weeks," he said, leaning back against Gil.

"What makes you think you're going to get this treatment for the next few weeks?" Gil asked.

Nick grinned. "Because if I set back my recovery, it'll be that much longer before you can fuck me properly," Nick said with a grin. He felt Gil start to firm up behind him, just as he'd hoped.

Gil, not to be outdone, leaned down and nipped Nick's earlobe. Then he whispered, "Oh, I'll be able to do that once your stitches are removed. As soon as I'm sure your wounds won't reopen, I'm going to put you on my lap and have you ride me so hard you won't be able to sit on that gorgeous little ass of yours for a week."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Nick said hoarsely. Oh, he couldn't wait for that moment! The next five days couldn't go by quick enough. But if he could get Gil's hands to go south every once in a while until then, Nick might manage to suffer through those interminably long days.

"Lean your head back a little," Gil said.

Fantasies of what might happen in the next five days interrupted, Nick did as Gil asked. "Do you have any idea how good this feels? The sponge baths the nurses gave me at the hospital did nothing for me."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Gil teased. He hosed down the rest of Nick's body before picking up one of the bars of soap lying on the soap rack. He sniffed it experimentally. "Mm, cardamom."

"Yeah, I like the way it smells."

Hands traveled across Nick's chest rubbing the soap against his wet skin, the fingernails scratching gently against his skin, but not too gently to be ticklish. "Mm, I like that, Gil," he moaned.

"I can tell."

Nick gasped as a soapy hand wrapped around his hardening cock.

Gil leaned down until his lips were level with Nick's ear. "This tells me that you're enjoying it a little too much," he said laughingly.

Nick growled as Gil's hand slowly and firmly stroked upwards, stopping at the tip. The thumb resting on the head of his cock rubbed a continuous circle around the slit. "Oh, God, Gil, please!" he gasped out. He had to bite back a whimper when the hand suddenly let go and left him bereft.

"Not just yet, Nicky. I want to get you cleaned up. Have a little patience."

Nick grimaced as Gil resumed washing his torso. He didn't care if his bellybutton was clean. He wanted Gil's hand back on his cock, now! "No one's touched me in years. I've been waitin' for you. If that ain't patience, I don't know what is," he muttered.

"I promise you won't regret the wait," Gil vowed. He placed a kiss on Nick's temple before he knelt in front of Nick to clean his legs. When he was finished, he stood in front of Nick. "Stand up for me?"

Nick frowned for a second, but shrugged and got up. He leaned against Gil, resting his head on Gil's shoulder and closing his eyes. They shot open a moment later when a soapy hand glided down his ass crack and fingers brushed against his hole.

His eyes crossed as Gil's fingers slowly teased his entrance. God, did this man have any idea what he was doing to Nick, any idea at all? It was almost a shame they had to wait until he was better to do any major lovemaking, because if Gil was half as good at sex as he was at using his hands, Nick never wanted to leave the bed again.

Nick squirmed and whimpered under the sensual torture. "God, Gil, you're such a tease." No, that wasn't said with a whine, not at all.

"I'm only a tease if I leave you in the state you're currently in, and that is something I do not intend to do," Gil promised him. Gil finished cleaning Nick front and back, then rinsed Nick off. "You want to sit back down for me?"

Nick sat down, fighting back disappointment. "But I thought we were gonna-oh," Nick said, realizing what Gil had in mind when Gil spread his legs open and dropped to his knees.

Gil grinned up at Nick as he wrapped his left hand around the base of Nick's dick. Tilting and ducking his head, Gil dragged his flattened tongue along the underside of Nick's cock from base to tip. Mindful that he couldn't take as much time as he wished, because Nick's body wasn't up to sitting for too long, Gil wrapped his mouth around the red, swelled head, swirling his tongue around the slit, teasing a bit before he slowly slid his mouth down Nick's prick, taking in as much as he could without choking himself. It had been quite a while since he'd last done this.

Not that Nick would have known it. The feel of Gil's warm, wet tongue sliding up his prick and then that beautiful mouth sucking him in was almost enough to undo him. It had been so long, and Gil's mouth felt so good around him, sucking him in deep, Gil's tongue stroking against the vein on the underside of his cock, it was almost too much.

Gil relished all the grunts and groans coming from Nick, who seemed too far gone to form complete words, as he worked his mouth over Nick's erection, sucking long and hard to bring Nick to orgasm quickly.

Nick's head hung back as he panted. There were no words for how he was feeling. It didn't much matter because Nick was pretty sure the part of his brain that controlled speech had gone on sabbatical. Inside his head, he chanted Gil's name over and over again, like some sort of prayer of thanks. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve Gil, but hell, he'd keep on doing it, whatever it was.

Not really thinking about it, because the truth was Nick doubted he had two working brain cells to rub together properly, Nick's good hand reached out to stroke Gil's hair.

Gil growled softly when Nick's fingers slid through is hair, tugging gently. He wondered what Nick would be like as a lover, once he recovered from his injuries. Gil thought Nick would be passionate in bed, and he couldn't wait to find out.

When he sensed Nick was close, Gil moved his free hand from Nick's thigh to his own erection, jerking off with quick, hard strokes, imagining it was Nick's hands on him, bringing him off. Soon, he promised himself, as Nick started to come.

Nick, unable to hold back any longer, let out a strangled cry. In that moment he didn't feel anything but Gil all around him, not the pain of his injuries, or the fear he'd been holding on to since he'd woken up in the hospital, or the heavy feeling that had settled upon him ever since they'd started the serial killer case. All he felt was the heat, the passion, the love and safety Gil made him feel. He didn't notice Gil swallowing down every bit of come Nick shot down his throat, nor did he notice Gil bring himself to orgasm. He was too wrapped up in the beauty of the moment, enjoying the one thing he'd never thought to have for himself. It was the ultimate high, there was nothing that could possibly compare to knowing it was Gil who had done this to him, who had brought him to orgasm. Nick never wanted the moment to end, and the only thing that saved him from disappointment was that any time he wanted, Gil would willingly make him feel this way all over again.

Shaking from the aftereffects, Nick really wished they'd done this in bed, because all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. But he couldn't, because they were in a shower stall, and he was sitting on a really uncomfortable stool.

Opening his eyes, he looked down at Gil, who was resting his head on Nick's knee. Nick resumed his previous stroking of Gil's hair. "Hey."

Gil moved his head so he could look up at Nick. "Hmm?"

"Think we could take this back to bed?"

Gil nodded and stood with some effort. "Yeah, just let me wash up a bit."

Nick nodded and watched Gil quickly wash his body, admiring every inch. "I really can't wait until I can really get my hands on you."

Gil leaned over and gave him a quick kiss before he ducked under the water. "Neither can I. But we will," he insisted, seeing the calculating gleam in Nick's eye.

Nick threw him a mock scowl. "All right, I'll be good…for now."

"That will have to do," Gil said, sighing dramatically as he shut off the water. "Come on, let's get you dried off and in bed. I need to check on my breakfast."

Nick stood still as Gil dried him off and removed the plastic bag. Then he asked the question he’d meant to ask earlier, before he was distracted by other parts of Gil’s body. “You know I have to ask. The black panther on your ass?” Nick said, staring pointedly at the black cat on Gil's right butt cheek. Underneath it, written in an elaborate script, was "Grissom".

Gil placed his hand over the tattoo on his ass and shrugged. “I'm not normally a cat person, but this particular member of the feline family made an impression on me when I was younger. My mother took me to the zoo, and she insisted we go to see the cats. I didn't really want to, but since she did, I went along. While we were watching the panther stalking in its cage, a handler came into its habitat. It was obvious even to me, at the ripe old age of seven, the cat was agitated, and as soon as the handler came near, it attacked. They managed to get the man out before the panther caused irreversible damage, and I have ever been in awe of the panther's power. I got this tattoo to remind me there are more powerful creatures than men in this world.”

Nick nodded. "I can understand that. That incident traumatized you, didn’t it?”

“Yes, it did for a while, but it's part of what got me fascinated in science and how our physiology worked. I might not be where I am now if that particular incident hadn't happened. Enough about my childhood traumas,” Gil said as he pulled Nick up and pushed him toward the door.

When Gil guided him back to bed, Nick asked, "Don't I get any pants?"

Gil gave him a wolfish grin. "No, you don't. I plan on doing a little under the covers fondling before your parents get here. Now get in there and rest."

Oh, Nick liked the sound of that. "Hurry back," he said as Gil tucked the blankets around him. Before Gil could leave, he grabbed hold of the robe Gil wore and pulled him down. "Thank you for the shower. I enjoyed that immensely."

Gil graced him with a smile. "You're more than welcome. I enjoyed it a bit myself." He kissed Nick soundly. "I'll be right back."

After Gil left, Nick grabbed the remote and turned on the television. There still wasn't anything on, but Nick really didn't mind all that much.

"Are you sure we shouldn't go pick my parents up ourselves?" Nick asked as Gil helped him sit on the couch.

"Yes, I'm sure. You can't go out in your current condition. Besides, Greg is already heading to the airport to pick them up. You relax and watch some T.V. while I find something to cook up for an early dinner. I'm sure your parents will be hungry."

"Yeah, that plane food is pretty awful," Nick said. "My dad's allergic to nuts, and my mom can't eat bananas, but anything other than that is fine. They're not generally picky about the types of food they like. They've always been rather adventurous."

"Good to know. You think Greg will have a problem spotting your parents?" Gil asked as he headed into the kitchen.

"Nah. I gave him a picture just in case, and I told my parents to be on the lookout for a spiky-headed guy in a Marilyn Manson t-shirt."

"He should stick out enough for your parents to find him. Think Greg will want to stay for dinner?" Gil asked. "I know how he eats, so I want to make sure we have enough."

"I don't know. We can ask. I don't mind if he does," Nick said. "You might wanna make extra. If he doesn't I'm sure my dad'll sneak down for a late night snack. You sure you don't want any help?"

Gil walked back into the living room, stopping a few feet away from the sofa. "Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"Be quiet and watch television. I'm sure there's some sport on there you'd like."

Nick grinned as he reached for the remote. "Yes, Peanut."

Gil stared at Nick a few moments, remembering the first time Nick had told Gil he loved him and called him "Peanut", even though Gil hadn't known Nick meant it at the time. It had given Gil a warm feeling then, as it did now. He turned and went back into the kitchen, before he got the urge to repeat their earlier performances in the shower and the bed. The smell of sex in the living room was not the right way to say "Hello, I'm Gil Grissom and I'm corrupting your son."

A couple of hours later the doorbell rang. "Stay in your seat, Nick, I'll get it," Gil said before Nick even thought about getting up.

On the outside Gil might have exuded a state of calmness many envied, but inside, his nerves switched into overdrive. Never in his wildest dreams would he think at nearly fifty years old he would be meeting the parents of his lover, who was fifteen years younger than him. The fact that Nick had a brother near Gil's age wasn't lost on him either.

Nothing would make him change his mind about becoming Nick's lover, partner, significant other, whatever. God, he hated labels. Gil only hoped that Nick's parents wouldn't disapprove too much, since their opinion obviously mean a lot to Nick.

Gil opened the door before the doorbell could ring a second time. Pasting a smile on his face, Gil came face to face with Nick's father. "Hello, Mr. Stokes. I'm Gil Grissom," he said and waited for the verdict.

The brilliant smile offered in return allowed Gil to release the breath he was holding. Gil could instantly see from whom Nick had received his good looks.

"Hello, Mr. Grissom. It's wonderful to meet you. Nick has told us so much about you. Please, call me Andrew." All this was said as Andrew reached out to shake Gil's hand.

"Call me Gil. Please, come inside," Gil said, stepping back so Nick's parents could enter.

Nick's mother followed behind Andrew, her smile for Gil just as bright. "Hello, Gil. I'm Doreen. Nicky always speaks highly of you when he calls. We've wanted to meet you for quite some time. I hope we'll get to see you quite a bit during our stay."

"I have the next several days off to help Nick with his recovery, so you'll probably be sick of me by the time you leave," Gil joked, feeling relieved to know there wasn't going to be any heads rolling soon. The last thing he wanted was for Nick to be upset, especially when he'd only been released from the hospital yesterday.

"Good. Now tell me, where is that son of mine? First I want to hug him, then I want to kill him," Doreen said, walking toward the living room.

Gil opened his mouth to tell her, but he didn't need to.

"Nick!" Doreen exclaimed, rushing over to her son and wrapping her arms around him gingerly. "Oh, Nicky, we were so worried. How are you, honey?"

Gil smiled and left Nick to greet his parents while he went in search of Greg. He found Greg outside wrestling with the luggage. Gil watched him with amusement for a few moments before saying, "Do you want some help there, Greg?"

Greg gave Gil a relieved smile. "Please."

Gil took two bags from Greg's overloaded arms. "I know you have to get to the lab later, but would you like to stay for dinner?"

"No, that's okay. I'd be intruding," Greg said as they headed up the walk.

"No, you won't," Gil said. "I made sure I made enough if you wanted to stay."

Greg eyed Gil. "Well, what did you make? Perhaps I can be persuaded."

"Baked chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, and asparagus," Gil told him as they went inside.

"I think I might find it in my heart to keep you company tonight," Greg said. "It'll save me from having to cook for myself."

Gil shook his head and smiled. "Come on, let's get these up to the guest room and go downstairs so we can watch Nick's parents embarrass him with all the stories Doreen is probably dying to share."

"Ooh, blackmail material," Greg said with a chuckle. "I can't wait."

"I hope your parents didn't embarrass you too badly," Gil said as he slipped into bed and spooned up behind Nick. He had toyed with the idea of staying in the other spare bedroom while Nick's parents were in town, but the irritated look Nick gave him when he mentioned it made him decide otherwise.

"Nah, I'm okay, though I will hafta kill Greg if he starts tellin' those stories to everyone in the lab," Nick said with a yawn.

"I'm sure he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut." Remembering what Greg said earlier, Gil added, "It's only good for blackmail material if he doesn't tell."

Nick chuckled. "Greg tryin' to blackmail me oughta be interesting. I'll worry about him later. Right now, I'm just relieved that my parents took to you as well as they did."

"Oh, so you were a little nervous about that, were you?" Gil asked as he nuzzled the back of Nick's neck. "I thought you had little doubts about their reaction."

"Well, I didn't have much in the way of doubts, but they're my parents."

Gil chuckled softly. "I understand." Hearing Nick yawn again, Gil said, "Go to sleep, honey. You've had a long day and you're exhausted. I don't want you to wear yourself out. You might set yourself back in your recovery."

"Yeah, but it was worth every minute," Nick said sleepily.

Gil kissed the back of Nick's head one more time. "Good night, Nick."

"'Night."

Gil woke early the next morning, feeling odd because he was just waking up instead of getting ready to go to sleep. Between the serial case and Nick's shooting, his schedule was twisted all around. Slipping out of bed, Gil made sure he didn't wake Nick up. He made his way downstairs quietly and went about making coffee. Not much later, he heard someone coming down the stairs.

Gil smiled at Doreen when she walked into the kitchen, yawning widely. "Coffee?" he asked, holding up the pot.

"Please," Doreen said, sitting down on one of the barstools.

Gil poured her a cup and handed it to her. "Here you go."

"Thank you," she said, taking the cup and adding sugar and cream.

Gil nodded and went to inspect the contents of the fridge. "I'm not sure what you and Andrew would like for breakfast. I'd ask Nick, but he's still snoring."

"Oh, please, Gil, let me do that. You went through all the trouble of cooking for us last night. It's the least I could do." She was silent for a few moments before she added, "I want you to know that Andrew and I really are glad that Nick has you for support."

Gil gave her a small smile. "Thank you. Nick tried not to show it, but he was nervous about your reaction towards me."

Doreen laughed softly. "I don't know why. Nick came out to us a long time ago, and even if we'd had a problem with it, which we didn't, we've had plenty of time to get used to it. I assume he's told you the story about his great uncles?"

"Yes, he shared that with me," Gil said, unsure of what to say.

"I'm glad he did. His uncles' deaths hurt him greatly, and that whole fiasco afterwards…well, it doesn't bear mentioning," Doreen said, patting Gil's hand. "Now, just so we're clear, Andrew and I have no problem with you seeing our son. The only thing we want is for Nick to be happy, and if he found that happiness with you, then we're proud to welcome you into the family. I can't guarantee that everyone else will feel the same, but I'm sure Nick's told you about that as well."

Gil nodded. "He did mention it. Thank you, Doreen. It means a great deal to us that you and Andrew feel this way."

"I doubt it would have mattered if we hadn't," Doreen said as she shooed Gil away from the refrigerator and started pulling out food for breakfast. "I saw the way he looks at you. You're the one he'd bring home to meet his family."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Gil said.

"Nick's never brought home any of his boyfriends to meet his family. When he was nineteen, not long after his uncle's death, he and a fraternity brother stopped by to pick something up. It wasn't anyone he was dating, just a friend. One of my daughters and her family were visiting, and the temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees. I'm sorry to say that my daughter's behavior wasn't the best, and she and Nick ended up fighting because of her rudeness. Luckily for Nick, the young man was a childhood friend who knew about Nick's bisexuality. Nick hadn't come out to his frat brothers, and never did, as far as I know."

"I don't doubt it. It would have made it extremely awkward at the frat house," Gil said.

"True, but Nick always could hold his own. After that dramatic outburst at the house, Nick told me he wouldn't bring home another guy unless he was certain the man was someone he could spend the rest of his life with. It wasn't that he didn't want to battle his sisters and their opinions. He would do it every day if he had to. Nick didn't want to put another person through it all, especially if it was just a casual relationship."

"And you think he'd subject me to the religious drama," Gil said, oddly pleased at the prospect.

"Oh, something tells me that you wouldn't be daunted by my girls," Doreen said with a laugh, "but yes, I think so. If you can survive a holiday in our house without running for the hills afterwards, then you and Nick will last."

"I don't plan on letting anyone chase me away, no matter who they are," Gil said.

"Good," Doreen said with a smile. She patted Gil's shoulder as she passed him and headed for the stove. "Why don't you go check on my boy and leave breakfast to me? I'll call you when it's time."

Gil grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "Thank you," he said.

Gil found Nick awake when he got back upstairs. Without a word, Gil handed Nick the water and his pills. Only after he helped Nick sit up did he ask, "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Sore, but better. It doesn't hurt as bad as it did yesterday mornin'."

"Glad to hear it," Gil said. He went to the closet and looked through Nick's clothes. "Your mother is making breakfast this morning. She practically threw me out of the kitchen."

"Yeah, Mom likes to keep everyone out of the way when she's creatin' a mess. I guarantee that whatever she makes, it'll be good. Can I ask what you're lookin' for?"

"Something for you to wear. All of your pajama bottoms are dirty, which reminds me that I need to do some laundry today, and I doubt you want to go downstairs in your Jockeys."

Nick smirked. "No, I really wouldn't. Just grab a pair of Dockers out of the closet. I don't care what I look like."

Gil grabbed a pair and walked out of the closet. "These okay?" he asked, holding up a pair of beige pants.

"Just fine. Now get your butt over here and help me into them. Grab me some underwear. I don't feel comfortable goin' commando around my parents."

Gil pivoted around and headed toward the dresser. "I like the idea of you running around without anything under your pants," Gil commented.

Nick grinned wryly as he pushed the blankets away and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Yeah, I just bet you would, but it ain't gonna happen. Now hurry up and get your sweet ass over here. I don't want Mom or Dad comin' in while I'm hangin' out all over the place."

Gil knelt down in front of Nick and slipped Nick's legs into the underwear and then the pants. "Stand up, please," he said. When Nick did, Gil suddenly found himself with a face full of cock. A few seconds passed before Gil looked up at Nick's face. He was pretty sure all his evil thoughts were written all over his face. "Are you sure we don't have time to-"

"No, we don't, so don't finish that thought," Nick said. "Now pull those up and get your mind out of the gutter before you make me hard."

Gil, sighing quietly and lamenting the loss of opportunity, helped Nick tuck in and zip up. "Now, I'm sure you want to wear a shirt. Do you have one that you don't mind cutting up?"

Nick headed into the closet and came out a moment later, holding up a shirt. It was the same one Sara had referred to as "hideous" a couple of years back. Nick never wore it again, but apparently he'd never thrown it away. "You can cut the sleeve off this one," he said, tossing it to Gil.

As soon as he did, Gil helped Nick into the shirt. "There," he said, once it was all buttoned up. "Does it feel okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Thanks, Gil." Nick brushed a kiss over Gil's lips. "Come on, let's get downstairs. Dad's probably already down there houndin' Mom to hurry up."

After a hearty Tex-Mex style breakfast, Gil, Andrew, and Nick all sat in the living room, having been thrown out of the dining area after their offer to do the dishes was turned down.

"Tell me, Gil, do you enjoy your job as much as Nick does?" Andrew asked.

Gil sipped on his coffee and thought about it for a few moments before answering. "That's a difficult question to answer, maybe more than anyone who's not an investigator realizes. There are parts of the job I enjoy immensely, and other parts aren't so pleasant. I love the scientific aspects of being an investigator. To be able to take all the pieces of the puzzle and put them together to get a result is extremely satisfying. I do, however, hate the political aspects of the job, as everyone who has ever met me in a professional context knows. Catherine, one of our colleagues, refers to me as being politically tone deaf, and she's right. The crime scenes themselves, seeing the dead, is something to which I've become accustomed, but it will always bother me to some extent. Some scenes you're never ready for, no matter how many suicides, murders, and accidents you've seen."

"I'm sure your current case is like that. I heard that your team was covering the serial killer discovered here in Las Vegas." Andrew held up a hand before Gil could say anything. "I know you can't discuss the specifics. I was simply wondering if you were able to take off time to care for Nick. Don't they need you there, overseeing the case?"

Gil shook his head. "Catherine's taken over temporarily. She's quite capable, and she knows where I am. I've brought home copies of evidence to work on while I'm here, and she keeps me apprised of the situation. It's really not a problem. My team is the best in the field, as far as I'm concerned. I have no worries whatsoever."

"Except the ones that come with being obsessive about your work," Nick retorted with a grin.

Ignoring his son's jibe, Andrew asked, "Are there any interesting cases you can tell me about? I have to say that this aspect of law enforcement is fascinating to hear about. As a lawyer I never thought much about what you people do, other than how it was going to affect my case. Now, as a judge, I see even less."

Also choosing to ignore Nick, Gil thought for a moment. "The Paul Milander case is fairly interesting."

Nick snorted. "You would pick a case that could have easily gotten you killed. You're right, though, it is an interesting case. I know you'll enjoy this one, Dad. " Nick laid himself across the couch, placing his head in Gil's lap. "If I start snorin', give me a whack," he said with a yawn. He fell asleep a few minutes after Gil started telling Andrew about Milander.

The three-day visit passed by quickly, and before Nick knew it, Greg had arrived to take his parents back to the airport. After they left and he and Gil were sitting on the sofa, the sound of Animal Planet drifting in the background, Nick said, "I know I'll miss them terribly, but right now I'm glad they're gone."

Gil tossed him an amused smirk. "They were only here three days, Nick. That was hardly enough time for them to wear out their welcome."

"I know, but I felt kinda weird doin' things with you, knowin' that they were in the same house," Nick said. "We just got together and I want to spend some time alone. I wanna be able to…vocalize my appreciation for your skills."

Gil nipped at Nick's earlobe. "In a couple of days, we'll have those stitches out and I plan on keeping that promise I made to you in the shower, and while you're riding me, I want to hear you scream out my name."

Nick's groin stirred with interest at those words and the image they evoked. "I just might do that now, if you're inclined to move to the bedroom," Nick drawled, now knowing the effect it had on Gil. He'd found that out the morning after his parents arrived, when he awoke to Gil gently fondling him. He'd said something, he couldn't remember what, but his drawl lit a fire in Gil's eyes and Nick received a blowjob even better than the one in the shower. He hoped Gil would be eager to repeat that performance.

It had the effect Nick intended when Gil suddenly growled and tugged on Nick's earlobe with his teeth. "Like that, do ya?" Nick said with a chuckle.

"You know I do. I was only waiting to see if your parents might have forgotten something. I think we're in the clear, so why don't we take this to the bedroom?" Gil murmured into Nick's ear.

"You tell me," Nick said. "You're the one who won't quit chewing on me long enough to get up."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Gil said as he got up.

Nick laughed. "Hey, man, I'm not complainin'. I'm merely pointing out a fact." He stood up as well, with a little help from Gil. "Thanks, babe."

Gil pushed Nick in front of him, and with his hands around Nick's waist, Gil guided him up the stairs and into the bedroom. He turned on the light while Nick went to sit on the bed. Seeing Nick toying with his shirt buttons, Gil said, "Can I be of assistance?"

Nick looked up at him and grinned. "I really wish you would. I'll be here for an hour otherwise."

Gil took pity on Nick and knelt down in front of him. As his hands came up to fumble with the buttons, Gil leaned in and nibbled at Nick's bottom lip. Before Nick could respond, Gil moved from his mouth down to his neck, nipping a trail down past Nick's Adam's apple to the bare skin revealed as he opened Nick's shirt. His mouth followed his hands all the way down to Nick's stomach. Unable to resist, Gil darted his tongue out and swirled in and around Nick's navel, enjoying the salty taste of Nick's skin.

Nick felt his entire body turn to melting butter as Gil's tongue explored and fondled his navel. His bellybutton had always been his undoing, and to have Gil touching him like that was almost too much to bear. His cock, which had only been semi-hard before, suddenly filled to nearly bursting, and pushed uncomfortably against his pants. "Gil, please," he gasped, thrusting his hips slightly; he hoped it was enough to catch Gil's attention.

Gil lowered his eyes to the problem in question and chuckled. "I see you're having a few issues," he teased. "I take it you'd like me to do something about that?"

Nick managed to muster up a glare. "If you don't mind."

Gil let out a low chuckle as he reached out to unfasten Nick's pants. If Nick thought his glare was intimidating, he had another think coming. For one thing, Nick couldn't scare a puppy, as far as Gil was concerned. For another, there was far too much heat and desire in his eyes to give the glare a proper chance to intimidate. Still, if Nick wanted Gil to remove his pants, who was Gil to argue? "Lift your hips," Gil said, his voice deep and husky as he got an eyeful of straining erection popping out at him. "You're not wearing underwear. What happened to your insistence that you wear them while your parents were here?" When Nick said he could manage to get himself dressed this morning, Gil hadn't realized that Nick hadn't put anything on underneath.

Nick's grin was just shy of wicked. "I knew they were leaving today. Surprised?"

"Pleasantly so," Gil said as he pulled Nick's pants off completely. He slid his hands up Nick's legs, keeping his touch feather-light, barely brushing the skin, making the touch just enough to get Nick worked up as Gil took the time to admire his view. This was the first time since they'd come home from the hospital that Gil had allowed himself to take the time to really look at Nick, and the view was even better than he'd dreamed.

Nick's legs were strong and muscular. Like everywhere else on Nick's body, the hair on his legs was dark but sparse, and they bore few scars, which were around the knees, most likely remnants of an active boyhood.

Gil let his hands travel over Nick's firm thighs, and up his hips as he leaned forward and inhaled the deep, musky scent that surrounded Nick's cock. He nuzzled the coarse hair around Nick's erection and then placed feathery kisses up the side of the shaft until he reached the tip. As tempting as it was to open his mouth and devour Nick whole, Gil merely licked the tip and stood up.

Nick growled at being suddenly bereft when he was so close. God, Gil was going to drive him insane, he just knew it. He opened his eyes and his mouth, fully intending to yell at Gil, but his mouth went dry as he watched Gil slowly start stripping out of his clothing.

Seeing he'd finally gotten Nick's attention, Gil slowly unbuttoned his shirt, teasing Nick with small glimpses of skin. Nick had seen him without any clothes on before, but the first time had been in a drug-induced haze, and the other times since had been mostly rushed due to the presence of parents. Gil had always known he harbored an inner exhibitionist, but until now he'd never felt comfortable enough with anyone to ever let it loose. With Nick, however, he knew he could do anything and Nick wouldn't laugh or call him weird.

The fire in Nick's groin blazed hotter as the shirt slowly slid down Gil's arms and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside he recognized the gift Gil gave to him by being completely at ease in his presence, but the lust and desire was completely focused on the skin being revealed to his hungry eyes. He wanted nothing more than to walk over there and run his tongue up Gil's spine and over his shoulders, tasting the musky, salty tang that was all Gil.

Gil, his back turned to Nick, slowly unbuckled his belt and undid his pants. Grasping each side of his pants, Gil slid them down, boxers included, at a snail's pace, exposing the curve of his ass only when he was good and ready.

"You are such a fucking tease!" Nick moaned. "Get your ass over here before I go over there and bite it."

Ignoring Nick, Gil dropped his pants to the floor and stepped out of them. Then he took his sweet time bending over to pick them up. He could hear Nick whimpering and groaning in frustration behind him. God, he loved teasing Nick. As Gil turned to face him, he hid his erection behind his pants. "Did you say something, Nicky? Oh, God!"

Nick was lying on the bed, propped up against the headboard on some pillows. His shirt was still on but wide open, showing off his hairless chest and flat stomach, and his left hand was slowly stroking his erection, thumb teasing the tip as he reached the head of his cock. It was a bit awkward, since Nick was used to using his right hand, but judging by the way Gil was salivating on the other side of the room, it was worth the trouble.

Gil stood frozen in the middle of the room for a few long moments, watching mesmerized as Nick fisted himself. It struck Gil in that moment how truly lucky he was that Nick was all his. He'd almost lost him, but Nick was here, in their bed, waiting for him, wanting only him.

What the hell was he doing over here way on the other side of the room when there was a gorgeous, naked man, who was in love with him, waiting for him in their bed? Shaking himself out of his stupor, Gil growled as he tossed his pants away. Erection bobbing proudly as he stalked to the bed, Gil told Nick, "If you know what's good for you, you'll stop that right now."

Nick's smug smile grew wider. "And if I don't?"

Gil crawled onto bed and lay across the foot of it. He shrugged. "Then I won't touch you for the rest of the night." He sighed and reached for the lube that was still lying on the unmade bed. Gil had used it on Nick earlier that morning. "I'm sure I can find some way to amuse myself."

Nick watched with undisguised interest as Gil took himself in hand and ran a firm stroke up his cock from base to tip, his thumb rubbing teasing circles around the head. Nick licked his lips as he wondered what it would feel like to have Gil's cock in his mouth, to taste the pre-come that leaked from the slit. Gil's cock was a good seven inches erect, and it was thick, but not too thick, and Nick couldn't wait until the day he could feel it inside him. Soon, he promised himself, only a couple more days.

"Do you like watching me, Nicky?" Gil asked as he spread his legs wide, repositioning himself so Nick had a clear view. He reached down and cupped his balls, gently massaging them with his fingers while he stroked himself at a leisurely pace. "Do you want to touch me, to taste me, to have me fuck you so hard you'd walk silly for a week?"

"Uh-huh," Nick answered as he stared at Gil, his own hand moving rapidly and roughly over his cock. "You…you're...uh-huh."

"Do you want to know what I think about when I touch myself?" Gil asked as his strokes increased slightly. He could feel the pressure slowly building toward release, and knowing Nick was getting off on watching him only made it better. At Nick's nod, Gil said, "I think about you. I imagine you on your back, legs in the air, so eager to feel me push inside, to bury myself in your tight little ass. You take me all the way in and then when I start pounding into you, you keep begging for more. You're so hot, so tight, that I can't hold out for long, but it's okay because when I wrap my hand around your beautiful cock, you come almost instantly. You're so beautiful when you come, did you know that, Nicky? You're so fucking beautiful it makes me want to weep."

Listening to Gil talk like that was the hottest thing Nick had ever heard, but it was those last words that shattered him and caused a whirlwind of ecstasy to rip through his body. Lost in his world of post-orgasmic bliss, he didn't realize Gil was near until he felt a tongue gently lap at the come dribbling down the hand still wrapped around his now limp cock.

It was a wonder his cock remained flaccid, because watching Gil lick him clean was almost as hot as seeing Gil jerk himself off. Noting the state of Gil's cock, Nick regretted that his own orgasm had kept him from watching Gil come. As Gil crawled up next to him, pulling him close and throwing a leg over his lower body, As he drifted off to the sound of Gil's heart beating, Nick decided it didn't much matter, because he was pretty sure Gil wouldn't mind repeating that particular performance sometime in the near future.

Two days later found Nick sitting in the doctor's office, after having his stitches removed and his progress checked. Once the doctor came in and gave him the okay, he wouldn't have to see him again until it was time to get the cast off.

Speak of the devil. "Well, Nick, it seems you're healing very well. Your injuries are free of infection and have closed up without any problems. I still want you to stay home for another week. You may go back to work seven days from now, and not a moment sooner, is that understood?"

Nick was a little disappointed but not surprised in the least. "Yeah, I understand. I'll take it easy."

"Good." Dr. Wright handed Nick a prescription. "I think you could do with a lighter pain pill now. I want you to have this filled. You can start taking this as soon as it's time for your next dose. Now get out of here. I don't want to see you again until it is time to get that cast off. Take it easy, Nick. You may feel better, but you're far from completely healed."

Nick laughed and stood up. Shaking the doctor's hand, Nick said, "I've got at least six people who will kill me if I try to overdo anything, so don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Thanks."

"Have a good day, Nick," the doctor said as he escorted Nick out.

"I will. You do the same." Nick signed the necessary forms and went out to the waiting room where Gil was.

Gil stood up as soon as he saw Nick. Looking him up and down, he said, "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine. The doc says I'm healing well. I can go back to work in seven days," Nick told him with relief. He was starting to get antsy sitting around at home with nothing to do. I would do him good to get back to work, even though Gil had assured him he would be working in the lab for at least a few weeks. Not that he minded, because he wouldn't exactly be helpful out at a scene anyway.

"Good. I'm glad to hear you're doing okay. You ready to go?"

"Yeah, in a few. I just have to stop by the pharmacy downstairs and get this filled. He took me off the Vicodin and put me on whatever this is," Nick said, trying and failing to decipher the doctor's handwriting. "I swear they give a class called Chicken Scratch 101 in med school."

"I don't think you're supposed to be able to read it," Gil said as they entered the elevator.

"Probably not. Hey, you know what I wanna do after we're done here?"

"Go home and rest?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Naw, man. I wanna go to the steak house. Come on, Gil. I haven't been anywhere in two weeks. Then we can go home and I'll let you keep that promise of yours," Nick wheedled, grinning in triumph as the walls of Gil's refusal to let Nick win came tumbling down.

"All right, but we're going home right after that, and you're not leaving the house again until it's time for you to go back to work," Gil insisted as the elevator doors opened.

Nick smirked. Yeah, they'd see about that.

"I feel like a human tick," Nick groaned as he plopped down on the couch. He winced when his body readily reminded him that he still had a lot of recovery to do. "Thanks for agreein' to take me to the steak house."

"You're welcome," Gil said. He sat down beside Nick and reached for his hand. "I think you ate too much, though."

Nick chuckled. "Yeah, I think I did. It was good, though."

"So, what do you want to do now?" Gil asked, as if he didn't already know.

Nick let go of Gil's hand, pushed himself off the couch and turned around to straddle Gil's thighs. "You know what I want. It's the same damn thing I've wanted for the last week. Now, are we gonna go upstairs and do this the right way, or am I gonna have make do with right here?"

"Upstairs," Gil said gruffly, pushing Nick off his lap and standing up. He took Nick's hand and led him up to the bedroom, where he made short work of getting their clothes off. He wanted, needed Nick now.

Nick felt the same urgency that seemed to possess Gil. For years he'd wanted nothing more than to feel Gil moving deep inside him, and now that he had it, he didn't want to bother with any of the teasing foreplay. All he wanted was to impale himself on Gil's thick cock, take him as deep inside as he could.

As soon as Nick stepped out of his pants, he pressed close to Gil, the enticing feel of skin against skin sending his desire and need soaring up another notch. He smashed his mouth against Gil's in a bruising kiss as he wrapped his good hand around the back of Gil's neck and squeezed. Ignoring the dull throb of pain in his other shoulder, Nick said against Gil's mouth, "There are condoms and lube in the nightstand."

Gil nodded and shuffled them around until his back was toward the bed. He moved backwards until he felt his legs hit the bed. Breaking away from Nick with regret, Gil sat down on the bed and reached into the nightstand, grabbing a condom and the tube of lubrication. "Lie on your back and lift your legs onto the bed," Gil ordered him. It had to have been a long time since Nick had been taken, and Gil wasn't about to add to the pain Nick was feeling, no matter how much he needed to be inside Nick.

Nick did as he was told, his entire body wired with anticipation. He had to take in and release a deep breath just to get his body to let go of the tension caused by his excitement. He'd waited for so long, and he needed it now. "Please, Gil, please," he begged, thrusting his hips upward. "I need you."

"Soon, Nicky, I promise," he said while squirting lube on his fingers and smearing it to make sure they were covered. He then brushed them over Nick's hole, using light, teasing strokes, and asked, "Think you can take two fingers?"

"I'll take your whole fucking cock if you'll just do something," Nick snapped in his impatience. Here he was, begging to be fucked, and Gil was teasing him as if years of them waiting for this moment meant nothing and there wasn't any pent up sexual tension whatsoever. And yet, the fingers still teased his entrance, and just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, they slowly slid into his body.

Gil took his time sliding his fingers in and out of Nick's body, occasionally nudging against his prostate gland, which resulted in some very vocal and vulgar comments spewing from Nick's mouth. When Gil went to prepare a third finger, Nick grasped his hand and glared at him.

"I don't need three fucking fingers. I'm ready, and if you don't fuck me now, I swear I'm gonna bite it off."

Gil laughed loudly. "No you wouldn't. If you did, then you couldn't watch me masturbate again."

Nick felt his face heat as Gil called him on his favorite kink. "Yeah, whatever. C'mon, Gil. I wanna be fucked," he whined as he pushed himself up from the bed and stood over Gil.

Gil sat back against the headboard and rolled on a condom, lubricated it, and then held out his hands. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

With Gil's help, Nick straddled his lap and once he was lined up with Gil's cock, Nick sat down slowly. "Oh, fuck yes," Nick cried out as he took Gil all the way in. "So good, so fucking good."

"You've no idea," Gil murmured as he desperately tried to stave off his orgasm. "Move, Nick, please. I'm not going to last long, not this time," he said as he began to stroke Nick's erection and thrust into Nick's body at the same time.

Nick grasped the headboard with his left hand and began to move up and down, pulling off Gil's cock until only the head was left inside, then sliding back down until his ass hit the curly hair that nested Gil's erection. They moved quickly, matching each other's movements as their need drove them, until it was too much and they both exploded, one right after the other.

As they lay entwined, coming down from their climaxes, Gil said with a chuckle, "I think we'll last longer next time."

Nick lifted his head from Gil's shoulder and gave him a sleepy grin. "Don't matter, 'cause that was pretty damn good." Lifting himself up, he winced as Gil popped out of him. "Ow."

"Sorry," Gil said as he pulled the condom off and threw it in the trash can by the bed. "How's your arm?"

"Sore, but I don't care," Nick said as he snuggled down next to Gil. "Mind if I take a nap?"

"No, because I plan on doing the same thing," Gil said as he yawned. He looked down at Nick and smiled. Nick was already asleep. Gil kissed Nick's forehead and wrapped an arm around Nick's waist. "Sweet dreams," he whispered as he drifted off.

Chapter Ten

"Hey, Nick, it's great to see you back at work," Greg said, giving Nick a careful clap on his back. It sent a slight twinge down Nick's injured arm, but it wasn't bad.

"Thanks, man. I was about to go crazy if I had to stay in the house another minute. They'll only let me work in the lab for the next four weeks, but that's better than starin' at the Discovery Channel all day. You know it's sad when you've seen so many programs on insect life that you actually understand what Grissom's talkin' about," Nick said with a grin.

"I heard that," Gil said from the doorway. "Welcome back, Nick. Greg, you're with me tonight. We've got a 419, the body of a young boy, probably no more than eight years old, dropped on the side of a dirt service road off of I-15. There's some severe storms headed this way in a few hours, so we need to hurry. Warrick is still in the lab, so he's going to help us. Nick, you can work on the serial case until we get back, then you can meet up with Robbins in the morgue for the boy's prelim and help out with trace."

"You got it, Gris," Nick said. He threw a shaky smile Gil's direction as he headed toward the lab room that held the evidence for their primary case. When he got there, Nick clenched his fists in an effort to get his hands to stop shaking. He hated cases that involved young kids, especially when they'd been dumped like that, because more often than not, those cases included abuse of a sexual nature.

"Are you all right, Nick? You're looking a little pale."

Nick turned and saw Catherine standing in the doorway. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's just, you know, people."

"I take it you heard about the case Gil's working tonight," she said, coming into the room and closing the door behind her. She placed a hand on Nick's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

Nick nodded, unable to talk past the lump in his throat. When his throat was finally able to function again, he said, "I wish these cases weren't so hard on me, I wish that I could handle them as well as everyone else, but I can't. You know that better than anyone, Cath. You've seen what I'm like when I get one of these."

Catherine gave him a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, you're like a charging bull. You have a perspective on these cases the rest of us don't have, that of the victim or the survivor as the case may be, and as long as you don't do anything to compromise the evidence, I think you handle them just fine. I know that if, God forbid, something like that were to happen to Lindsey, I'd want you in charge of the case."

Nick looked down at his hands, which were still shaking. "I have nightmares sometimes, usually when one of these cases cross our paths. Just when I think it's gone away, and I've made peace with myself and that part of my life is made dormant and pushed to the back of my mind, cases like this one come up and then all of the sudden, there she is again."

"Maybe you should talk to someone," Catherine said, reaching out with one hand to brush at his cheek.

The gesture surprised Nick, because he had no idea a tear had trickled down his face. Letting out a hoarse chuckle, he said, "Who? A shrink?"

Catherine shrugged. "I was thinking more along the lines of oh, say, Gil? Since you two ostriches seem to have your heads out of the sand and have finally done something about the fact that you’re so obviously in love with each other. I think you should tell him about this. He could give you much more support than the rest of us could, and I think you'd feel better if he knew."

Nick could feel his mouth gaping open, but he couldn't manage to close it. When Catherine laughed at him and helped him out by lifting his chin off the floor, he croaked out, "You know?"

Catherine ruffled his hair. "Of course, I do. Don't worry, everyone else seems blissfully oblivious. You forget that I know you and Gil probably better than anyone else. I've always known there was something more behind that hero worship of yours, and as well as Gil hides all that he feels, I could always tell he had a soft spot for you. I've been trying for a while to get him to make a move on you. All bets were off once he heard you were shot. We couldn't have kept him away from you even if we locked him in a cell. I'm shocked Sara didn't figure it out, but when it comes to Gil, she's oblivious to all feelings but her own."

"Yeah, I know all about Sara." Nick groaned but he relaxed, wincing when he felt a twinge of pain shooting through his shoulder and arm. At least it wasn't too bad, now that he was off his medication. "I know Greg knows, because I can't seem to keep a damn thing from him, and I think Brass might know. I know we won't be able to hide it forever, but this isn't somethin' we really want to come out yet, especially to Sara. I don't know how she'll react. I'm sure we can count on your discretion." Nick bit his bottom lip and put on his best hopeful puppy expression. He didn't know if it would work, but it didn't hurt to try.

Catherine glared at him, but the twitching corners of her mouth told him she wasn't completely immune to his charms. "Don't give me that look. Yes, you can trust me not to say anything, as long as you do me a favor. Tell Gil about what happened to you. You'll feel better, and he'll be glad you told him. Oh, and tell him soon, like right when you get home. You won't want to have to explain after you wake him up because of your nightmares."

"I should have known you'd resort to sneakiness. Fine, I'll tell him after shift is over. Okay?"

"Thank you. I'm your partner tonight, so I'll be back after I go out and grab something to eat at the deli. You want anything?"

"Yeah, could you grab me a couple of roast beef on whole wheat with everything on 'em, and a couple of bags of those Baked Lays, the Sour Cream ones?" he asked as he pulled some money out of his wallet. "I know that Gris won't think about pickin' anything up for a while, and he didn't eat much before he came in."

"Sure, no problem," Catherine said, taking the twenty Nick offered her. "I'll be back in a few."

"Okay," he said. After watching her leave, he rubbed his left hand on his thigh, trying to get rid of the shaking. "All right, Nicholas Aaron Stokes, get a grip on yourself. This isn't anything new. You've dealt with these cases before, and you will again."

Taking a deep breath, Nick grabbed a notepad, and after checking to see where the last person had left off, he opened the appropriate binder and got to work, hoping it would take his mind off the impending autopsy, even for a little while.

Time seemed to go by both quickly and slowly, and all too soon he and Gil were on their way back home. Nick grew uneasy the closer they got to their house-he couldn't help but smile a little at the thought of it being their house, even though it was technically his and Gil hadn't moved in…yet. He'd promised Catherine he'd tell Gil, and he would, but he didn't know how to bring it up. How did you come out and tell your lover you were molested when you were a little boy and you still had nightmares every time you had to work on a sexual molestation case? He had to think of some way to bring it up, because they were now parking in the driveway.

Nick remained quiet as they left the Tahoe and went inside. He went to sit on the sofa while Gil went to put the lasagna they'd left to thaw on the counter into the oven. He could do this, he could tell Gil what had happened to him, and it wouldn't change a thing between them. Consciously he knew this, but Nick couldn't help but feel a little trepidation. God, his own family didn't know about it, only Catherine. Gil is your family now, a little voice in the back of his head reminded him.

"Is something wrong, Nicky?" Gil said, causing Nick to jump. He hadn't heard Gil come into the room.

Nick sighed. "You startled me. I wasn't paying attention."

Gil sat down next to him and slipped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. "What's wrong, Nick? I know something is. Did something happen at work?"

"Yes and no. It's the case with the little boy. Robbins said there was evidence of prolonged sexual abuse," Nick said as he placed his head on Gil's shoulder and wrapped his good arm around Gil's waist. "It brought back some bad memories for me."

"What memories, Nick?" Gil asked. The hoarseness in his voice caused Nick to look up at Gil, who was looking at him with shock and a little anger. "Who dared to put their hands on you?" Well, that made it clear whom Gil was angry with, thereby assuring Nick he was doing the right thing and had nothing to worry about.

"When I was nine, my parents had a dinner that they had to go to, and my grandmother had gone out of town to visit some old friends. Faith had plans to go to a slumber party, so they hired a babysitter, a friend of my sister. Unfortunately, she came down with a nasty case of food poisoning the evening before and she was still sick, but she offered up her boyfriend's sister. My parents figured that it would be okay, because Tina, the girl with the food poisoning, said she was really nice and responsible. My parents said okay.

"They went out that night, and everything seemed okay. She let me watch one of those Herbie the Lovebug movies on video before she gave me a snack and sent me upstairs to play. She came in an hour later and told me to get ready for bed. I was a little sleepy, since I was usually asleep at that time anyway, so I didn't kick up a fuss or anything. I just did it and got into bed. When she came in a few minutes later, I thought she was just coming to check up on me."

Nick's throat closed up as he tried to talk about what happened. Swallowing, he said, "She made me do things to her. I-I can't, I don't want to say it. I can't-" Nick buried his face in Gil's neck.

"It's okay, Nicky. I have a clear enough picture. And afterward?"

"After she finished with me, she told me to get some sleep and turned out the lights. I sat there in the dark crying, waiting for my mom to get home. I wouldn't sleep until the sitter was out of the house. I never told my mom, though. I never told anyone until a couple of years ago, when I finally told Catherine."

"Catherine knows?"

"Yeah. We were workin' a case together, and I was running the entire thing, leaving her out of it basically. I was workin' way too hard too fast, and she called me on it, threatenin' to take me off the case. I told her I'd been molested, but I didn't go into detail. It helped, to know Catherine knew. She's the one who convinced me to tell you, 'cause when I get on cases like this, I tend to have nightmares."

"I'm glad she did. Nick, you can tell me anything, and I will always listen. You know that what happened wasn't your fault, don't you?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah, I know. I've always known it. I don't know why I couldn't tell my parents. I just-" Shaking his head, he continued, "A few months after that, my parents decided to go out, and they were going to leave me with a sitter. I freaked out completely. I was hysterical, but I wouldn't tell them why. They didn't go, and any time they went out after that, they always made sure there was a family member with me."

"Well, you're okay now. I wish you'd told your parents, cause that bitch deserves to be in prison for what she did to you. I'm glad you told me, though. If there's anything I can do, I want to know."

"Just wake me up if I start thrashing around or somethin', will you?"

"I can do that," Gil said. Sensing Nick didn't want to talk about it anymore, Gil pulled Nick to his feet. "Come on, let's get some plastic around that cast and get you into the shower." He hoped a shower and dinner, and then some cuddling in bed while they watched television would put Nick's mind at ease. Other than that, he didn't know what he could do for Nick, but he hoped it would help.

Three weeks passed quickly with no new leads on their case. They still plodded away at the notebooks and the evidence they had, but it was slow going. Unfortunately, the longer it took them to figure out who they were looking for, the longer their suspect had to set up somewhere else and start killing again.

The upside was that every day they learned more and more about their killer. His pattern was distinctive once he got his victims back to his home, even if his method for finding his victims wasn't. Still, it would have been better if they'd had some idea of what their suspect looked like. How were they supposed to alert the public when they had no description and absolutely no idea where he would strike next?

It was discouraging to the entire team, but Nick tried not to let it get to him. He had to believe there was something in all their evidence that would break open the case or possibly just give them some new leads. They just had to find it.

Outside of work, his life was going great. He felt better every day, and his relationship with Gil was going great. Not that they had all that much time to themselves once Nick returned to work, but that was to be expected and Nick really didn't mind. He couldn't wait until he got his cast off, though. He and Gil both managed to get that day off with a lot of finagling and a couple of Saturday nights off for both Warrick and Greg, and Nick had definite plans for that night.

The day he got his cast removed finally came, and Nick could hardly wait. While they were at the doctor's office getting the cast off and his physical therapy sessions lined up, Greg was supposed to grab dinner for them at Gil's favorite Chinese restaurant and sneak it into the house. Not that they would get to the food first. Nick had other things he wanted to do first.

"Now that you've been freed from your cast, what do you want to do tonight?" Gil asked as they stepped inside.

Nick turned on him immediately and pushed him against the wall. "I wanna go to bed," Nick growled into his ear.

Gil shivered as Nick's tongue slid over the shell of his ear. It was a good thing he was up against the wall and not standing in the middle of the room, because his knees buckled as Nick slowly nibbled at his earlobe.

"Like that, do you?" Nick teased.

"My weakness," Gil panted. "Bed, now. I don't think I'll be able to stand on my own for much longer, and I really want to see you naked."

Nick chuckled softly. "All right, but only 'cause I wanna take my time explorin' every inch of your body now that this stupid cast is off and I can fully appreciate you. C'mon." Nick grabbed Gil's hand and tugged him away from the wall and toward the stairs.

As soon as they reached the top, Nick spun around again and captured Gil's mouth again. Backing up slowly toward the bedroom, Nick took the time to thoroughly explore Gil's mouth, his tongue gently teasing the sensitive roof and then tangling with Gil's. At the same time, he let his hands roam everywhere he could reach, pinching and twisting Gil's nipples under his shirt, grabbing his ass and squeezing, pulling him closer and rubbing their erections together through their clothing.

It felt so good Gil knew he was going to come in his pants, and that would be a first since he’d been in high school. Breaking their kiss, Gil said, "God, you keep that up, Nicky, and I'm going to shoot before we get to the bed."

Nick smiled and pulled away to escort Gil into the bedroom, but instead of going to the bed, he made a beeline for the bathroom. "I think a shower might take the edge off, and get us cleaned up a little. I know my arm could certainly use it." Nick kissed Gil again before he started to remove his clothes. "Tonight I wanna make love to you, if that's all right."

Gil's smile could have lit the entire Strip. "I was hoping you'd ask."

Nick smiled as Gil stripped so fast he beat Nick into the shower. Gil's enthusiasm calmed any underlying fears Nick might have had for presuming Gil would allow Nick to top him.

Nick slipped into the shower behind Gil and grabbed the liquid soap. They worked quickly and quietly while washing each other's bodies down. Lips met occasionally, hands teased and caressed to keep the sexual tension hot but not enough to spoil any post-shower fun. Nick was careful to pay close attention to Gil's state of cleanliness, since he knew it had probably been quite some time since Gil had been fucked.

They dried themselves off quickly and went back into the bedroom, both eager to get their hands on each other.

"Lie down on your stomach," Nick whispered into his ear.

"I want to be facing you," Gil said softly.

"You will be, baby. I just want to have a little fun before the show, now be patient."

Nick ran his palm over the firm swell of Gil's ass. God, no one at work would ever think Gil was hiding an ass like this under his pants. And it was all his. "You are gorgeous, baby. If anyone else at work ever saw you like this, they'd never be able to concentrate on their cases," he told Gil as he slid his palms down the back of Gil's thighs in a firm caress. His hands moved back up until they rested on Gil's hips.

Leaning in, Nick ran his tongue up the crease between cheek and thigh before bestowing gentle bites over one ass cheek and then the other, leaving light marks in his wake.

"Jesus, Nick, please," Gil pleaded as he jerked his hips, rubbing his prick against the sheets underneath.

"Uh-uh-uh," Nick admonished, backing away slightly. "No getting off just yet. Use that monumental amount of control you have and stay still."

Gil groaned in frustration, desperately wanting Nick to do something, anything, that would get him one step closer to being fucked. It had been so long since he'd allowed anyone to touch him there and now that he was giving Nick this opportunity, he wanted Nick to take advantage of it immediately.

"My, my, so impatient," Nick whispered as his thumbs caressed the skin near the crack of Gil's ass. He could tell how much Gil wanted him to just take him, but Nick had planned this too much to let Gil get his own way. Once he was sure Gil was going to comply with his order to stop rubbing himself on the sheets, Nick spread Gil's ass wide open and used one thumb to deftly massage the pink, puckered opening displayed to him so willingly.

Gil shivered from the sensual sparks shooting up his spine as Nick stroked his opening. He loved having his ass played with, even more than he liked having his ears nibbled. The only thing better would be if Nick was willing to put his tongue down there, but their relationship was way too new to ask him to do that.

And then there it was, the first tentative swipe of tongue across his asshole, and Gil's brain turned to Jell-O and his face turned red. Toes curled and hands gripped the sheets, and then heaven help him, he let out a loud whimper, because it was the best feeling ever, having Nick's tongue lapping gently at his opening, as if testing the water to see if Gil liked it. "Oh, God, yes, please, Nicky, more, yes!"

A feeling of triumph washed through Nick as he heard the pleading cry wrenched from Gil at the mere touch of his tongue. So Gil did enjoy having his ass teased. Filing that knowledge away in the part of his mind that kept note of all things Gil, Nick set to his task with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Gil cried out again when Nick's tongue wiggled teasingly at his entrance and then breached him with one smooth jab. Gil closed his eyes and turned himself completely over to Nick, letting him do whatever he wished. He wouldn't realize it until later, but in that moment Gil felt a freedom unlike any other he'd ever experienced. For his whole life he'd had been responsible for something. Not even in childhood had he been able to let go of everything and just feel blissfully at peace and happy, but now, at nearly fifty years old, he'd found that peace in his relationship with Nick.

Nick felt the moment Gil gave in to him completely, felt all the tension normally found in Gil's body bleed out, leaving him limp and pliant. Nick licked and sucked at Gil's hole for a little while longer, until he couldn't stand it anymore. He was hard and horny as hell, and he needed to be inside Gil because he knew it was the one thing he needed to make their relationship feel complete.

Nick slid his tongue out of Gil's ass and placed a light kiss on the hole. "Turn over," he whispered, moving back so Gil could do so. Keeping Gil's comfort in mind, Nick slid a pillow under his hips and reached for the lubricant and a condom. As he was about to slick up two fingers, Gil stopped him.

"No, don't worry about that. Just slide on the condom and take me," Gil said, taking hold of the condom and tearing open the wrapper.

"I'll hurt you," Nick protested. "It's been a long time since you've done this."

"I'm more than ready for you, Nicky. Please, I need you now," Gil pleaded.

Nick sighed but relented. "All right, but if it hurts too much, you let me know."

"I will," Gil said, knowing he wouldn't need to. When he was relaxed and eager, like he was now, he didn't need all the fuss of stretching.

Trusting Gil to know his own body better than Nick did, Nick slid on the condom and slicked it up thoroughly. Positioning himself, Nick pushed into Gil's body, trying to be gentle as he popped his head through Gil's tight hole.

Only weeks of learning to stave off his orgasms while having sex with Gil kept Nick from shooting his load as soon as he was sheathed within Gil's ass. It felt so good, so right, and had to wonder at his stupidity for keeping his attraction to Gil to himself for so long. "Whenever you're ready, baby," Nick said hoarsely, wanting to give Gil the opportunity to get used to Nick being inside him.

"Move, now," Gil panted. This was what he'd wanted, what he'd dreamed of, since the moment Nick walked through his office door. Now it was all his, and as Nick pulled out and thrust in, hitting his prostate over and over again, Gil planned on having Nick like this as often as possible. "God, fuck, more, harder, Nicky!" he cried out over and over again.

Nick pounded into Gil as hard as he could, his eyes never leaving Gil's face. Seeing Gil like this, back arched, head back, his mouth open and his breath hitting Nick's face as he panted, made the wait all worth it. Nick thrust faster and harder, giving Gil everything he had. "God, Gil, you're so tight, so fucking hot, I love you so much, wanna fuck you every damn chance I get," he ground out as he thrust into Gil with abandon.

"Yes, yes, please, Nick, love you, need you, more, just like that, yes!" Gil reached down between them and yanked at his cock. It only took a few strokes and he was howling out Nick's name so loudly he knew the neighbors had to have heard him.

Seeing Gil let go like that and wail out his name was enough to bring Nick off. Crying out Gil's name over and over again, he spilled himself inside Gil, his hips snapping in short, jerky thrusts until he had nothing left to give. He collapsed on top of Gil, his right arm finally giving out under his weight.

As soon as he felt himself soften, Nick pulled himself up and out carefully. Tossing the condom in the trash, he then rolled onto his side and stared at Gil, who was still zoned out. A few minutes later, when Gil finally focused back on the real world, Nick reached out and tweaked a nipple. "Hey, baby, you okay?"

Gil turned his head toward Nick and laughed softly. "I think you may have killed me, but what a way to go."

Nick grinned and blushed. "Nah, I think you'll survive, if only to do it again."

Gil rolled over and pulled Nick close, ignoring the cold, sticky mess on his stomach for the moment. "We're definitely going to be doing that again. And again. And again." Each "again" was punctuated by a long, lingering kiss.

Nick smiled and reached over to grab some tissue from the Kleenex box on the nightstand. As he cleaned off Gil's stomach, he said, "Greg snuck us in some Chinese food while we were gone. You wanna go eat?"

Gil shook his head. "In a little while. Right now I just want to lie here and pretend there's nothing waiting for us in the world outside. It's just you and me."

Nick slid closer and ducked his head under Gil's chin. Closing his eyes and smiling, Nick whispered, "That's all right with me."

Nick sat down in his corner, and pulled his current binder toward him. Slowly but surely, the piles of unread binders were getting smaller.

It was too bad they didn't have many leads outside the binders. Of the most current cases, those within the last two years, no one had seen or could remember seeing any of their victims with anyone before they disappeared. They still had options, however. As the entire team went through each binder and finished out each person's file, from abduction to death, they followed the path that led to their victim's abduction. So far, they'd been unlucky in finding anything that could link the victims to the killer. They had a ton of evidence, but as of yet were unable to link everything together.

Nick was still working backwards from most current, and this newest one began on October fourteenth in 2004.

There wasn't anything particularly spectacular to report for that entry, just a basic sadistic day for the bastard. At this point, he only had one victim, a man named Jason.

October fifteenth started out fairly much the same, but what caught Nick's interest was their suspect's decision to hit a club that night, though he was unsure as to which he was going to attend. The entry stopped fairly abruptly, only to pick up later. Nick noted that his writing seemed sloppier, as if the suspect were excited or agitated.

I have to admit that lately my heart just has not been into conducting my great work. I have merely been going through the motions, and I am sure my beautiful Venus is most displeased. Do not misunderstand, dear reader, I still find pleasure with my boys, but true contentment is something I have not felt for some time.

Until tonight.

I went to Krave tonight, with only a half-hearted hope of finding some beauty who would spark my interest. I truly did not expect to find anyone, and then he came in, this vision of youth, beauty, and vitality I had never dared to dream I would see again. The love of life this young man exudes is simply astonishing. I could not take my eyes off him from the moment he walked in. The way he walked, the way he moved on the dance floor was pure poetry of motion, as maudlin as my description may seem. His smile far outshone that of any of his companions, of anyone in the entire club, to be perfectly honest.

When he walked to the bar by himself, I could not resist making contact. I offered to buy him a drink, but he politely refused, since he did not wish to suffer a hangover. Most people, I would not believe them when they said this, but young Greg has such an open and honest face that my instincts told me he spoke the truth. It seems dear Greg works at the crime laboratory in Las Vegas. We were able to speak for only a few moments before he had to get back to his friends. They left a short time later, much to my regret.

Only a few moments ago did I find out what his last name is. A call to the crime laboratory and a few well-worded questions was all it took for their idiot receptionist to make herself quite useful. His name is Sanders, Greg Sanders.

Oh, how I would love to have him for my collection. To feel him beneath me, to hear him scream as I show him what real love is, would be the greatest bliss that I have ever known.

Unfortunately, his position makes him too high profile. They would know he was missing far too soon for my liking, and they would spare no one in the search for him. Greg is someone who should be savored; months of pleasure should be derived from him. I am afraid I would find it extraordinarily difficult to put an end to his life at all. Perhaps he would be the one to keep for myself, one who would always be worthy no matter how many years passed.

For now, I will allow him to live his life, I will let him go, dear reader, content with the knowledge that he is out there, out there waiting for me.

Nick slammed the binder shut, causing Catherine to jump. He hadn't seen her come in.

"Jesus, Nick. What's up?"

"I've gotta find Greg. Where is he?" Nick asked as he grabbed his notepad and shoved past Catherine.

"I saw him heading into the break room a minute ago," Catherine said as she ran up behind him to catch up. "What's going on?"

Nick didn't answer. He spotted Greg coming out of the break room, holding a cup of coffee. Grabbing Greg by the arm, Nick pulled him back inside.

"Hey, Nick. Watch it, this coffee's hot!" Greg said, holding his mug away from his body as it sloshed over the rim. "What the hell's the matter with you? Are you possessed?"

Nick shoved Greg into a chair and sat directly across from him. "Do you remember the night last October when you visited that club, Krave, with your friends?"

"You went to Krave?" Catherine asked with interest. Greg and Nick both ignored her, much to her irritation.

Greg thought for a moment. "Yeah, I do. We were celebrating Marcus's graduation from law school. Why?"

"A guy came up to you at the bar?"

"Yeah, a guy did. How'd you know that?"

Nick ignored the question for the moment. "Think carefully. Can you remember anything about the guy? What he looked like? What you talked about? His name, perhaps?"

"Sure, I remember him fairly well, actually, because my friends tease me about him every time I talk to them. His name was Timothy, but I didn't get a last name. He was an older man, probably around Grissom's age. He had blond hair and brown eyes, and he was tall, maybe an inch or two taller than Warrick. He was kinda thin, and he had a nice, friendly smile. His teeth were straight, probably wore braces when he was a kid. I remember he had a cute dimple when he smiled. Why is this so important?"

"Because as far as I know, you're the only one who has met our serial killer and lived to give us a useful eyewitness account of him."

Greg felt all the blood drain from his face. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "Huh?"

"Brittany is insane, Rice and Jones never saw the guy's face. He was always covered up, they were too out of it to notice, or it was too dark for them to see. No one else has survived. The guy you met at the bar was our serial killer. He was there that night, looking for his next victim."

"You mean he-I-he wanted…" Greg stammered, staring at him with disbelief.

"Yeah, man. I'm sorry I hafta tell you this, but it's important to the case," Nick said, reaching over the table to squeeze Greg's shoulder.

"Why didn't he take me?" Greg asked, shuddering as he thought about what it was he'd narrowly escaped.

"Part of it is because you were with a lot of friends, but what really saved you was working here. He knew that you would be way too easily missed. If you didn't work for L.V.P.D., I think you would have been his victim."

Greg sat back, completely stunned. "I will never pick up another guy at a club again. Do you know I actually thought he'd be great for a potential boyfriend? Jesus, Nick!"

Catherine plopped down into the chair next to Nick and stared at Greg as if he was going to disappear at any moment. She hadn't known Greg was gay, but that knowledge paled in comparison to knowing they could have lost Greg. "This is…wow."

"I know. Believe me, no one was more shocked than I was when I saw Greg's name on that page," Nick told her. Turning his attention back to Greg, Nick said, "Do you think you could have a composite made of our guy?"

Greg stared at him a few moments before shaking himself out of his stunned silence. "Yeah, sure, I'll do my best."

Catherine stood up to escort Greg to their artist. She had a feeling Greg didn't want to be left alone at the moment. "Come on, Greg. I'll go with you. Nick, you wanna inform Grissom? I think he's in his office with Brass, discussing the case."

"Yeah," Nick said in a shaky voice. He gave Greg what he hoped was a reassuring smile as Catherine and Greg left the room. Inside, though, he was scared shitless. Who was to say what this Timothy guy knew about Greg by now? He had to know they'd discover his connection to Greg. What was this going to mean for Greg's safety?

Nick stood up as soon as he was sure his legs could hold him and headed directly for Gil's office. The door was closed, so he knocked before opening the door and peeking in. "Gris, I really need to talk to you. We've got a major break on the case."

"Please come in, Nick," Gil said.

Nick entered, closing the door behind him. "Hey, Jim," Nick greeted Brass as he sat in the chair next to him.

"Hi, Nick. Feeling better?" Brass asked.

"Yeah, I'm gettin' better every day. I was feelin' much better today until I found out we have a witness that can give us a basic composite of our serial killer." Nick looked down at his notes. "His name is Timothy. He's about six foot two to six foot four, blond hair, brown eyes, looks to be about forty-five to fifty years old."

"This is excellent information, much more than I'd hoped to get. Who's our eyewitness?" Gil asked as he walked around the desk and took the notepad from Nick's hands.

"Greg."

"Greg Sanders?" Brass asked with disbelief. "Our Greg?"

"One and the same," Nick said, feeling ill. "Last October, Greg went to Krave to celebrate a friend's completion of law school. Our killer tried to hook up with Greg, but when casual conversation revealed Greg's occupation here, it seems our suspect backed off."

Nick looked up at Gil and voiced his concerns. "What's this gonna mean for Greg's safety? This guy's gotta know that we know he tried to pick up Greg. Do you think he'll try again? From what I read in the entry, this Timothy felt strongly about his attraction to Greg."

"I don't know. I think Greg's safer now that our suspect knows we know about his interest. Right now wouldn't be the best time for Timothy to go after Greg. He knows we'll be watching, waiting for him. Still, we'll keep an eye on things. If Greg doesn't feel safe at home, he can stay at my townhouse. You offer it up, though. You can talk him into it better than I ever could."

Nick nodded. "I'll do my best. I'd feel better if I knew he was there instead of at home."

"So would I. Why don't you go down and talk to Greg? After Jim and I are finished here, we'll join you."

"Okay," Nick said.

As soon as Nick left, Brass eyeballed Gil. "It looks like things are going well between you."

Gil stared at Brass for several moments, but when it didn't look as if Brass was going to let it go, Gil relented. "Yes, things are going well. Very well, actually. I know you want to hear it, so I'll say it this once. I should have listened to you long ago. Happy now?"

Brass leaned back in his chair and smiled smugly. "Ecstatic."

"I'm happy for you. Can we get back to the case now?" Gil implored, hoping Brass wouldn't ask for any details.

"Sure, sure, just as soon as you answer one more question. How is Nicky in the sack?"

As Nick walked down the hall toward the AV lab, he wondered if Gil and Brass were talking about him. Nick knew Brass more than likely knew about their relationship, but Gil hadn't said anything. It didn't matter though, because Nick was fairly sure Brass wouldn't care as long as Gil was happy.

Nick hoped Gil was happy. Gil had been spending so much time with him since the shooting he'd been neglecting his own home and his friends. Nick knew Gil and Brass had gone out for drinks after work frequently before they'd got together, and he felt kind of guilty about taking that time away from them. Perhaps he should have a talk with Gil after work, make sure he knew Nick didn't care if he went out without him or if he invited his friends over to the house.

A peek inside the lab showed Greg still working on the physical description of their suspect, so he went down the hall to see what Jacqui was up to. "Hey, Jacqui, how's it goin'?"

Jacqui looked up from behind a pile of boxes. "Hey, Nick. I haven't seen you in here in a while. Glad to see you're feeling better. As far as your case, it's going. I'm just about done with the prints for the serial case. I've been able to separate all the prints and figure out which ones are repetitious. Each box is labeled by person, and all the prints from that person are in there, regardless of whether or not they have a single thumb print or we have prints of all their fingers and their palms."

Jacqui walked over to another table near the computers. "These two stacks are unidentified. No hits on AFIS and nothing from missing persons we can use to identify to whom they belong. These three stacks next to them are prints I'm still running. Sometimes it takes four days for AFIS to tell me it doesn't have squat for me."

"That sucks, but I'm glad you're almost done. Listen, do you have the printouts for all the people you've identified? We just got a break on what our suspect may look like, and I want to compare pictures to what our witness told us."

"Sure, here you go," she said, picking up and handing Nick a stack of folders a foot tall. "That's all of them. The reports for those are all completed, and that includes the reports on the unidentified prints, so if you want to take them down to file them with the rest of your reports, go ahead. I'll let you know when I have anything more for you."

Nick threw her a sarcastic smile. "Great. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she called out.

Nick ran into Gil in the hallway on his way back to their lab room. "Greg's working on it, but I thought it couldn't hurt to go through the people we've identified and see if we get lucky."

Gil turned and followed Nick into the lab. "It can't hurt to look. I'll help you, since I doubt Greg needs me hovering over his shoulder."

Nick sat down and divided the pile in half, giving one half to Gil. As he started going through them, he looked at Gil. Deciding he could bring up the thing with Brass now, since they were alone, Nick said, "Brass doin' okay?"

Gil gave him a confused frown. "He's fine. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, he was lookin' at me kinda funny. I assume he knows about us."

"Yes, he does. It doesn't bother you, does it?"

Nick shook his head. "Nah, man. I know you and he are good friends. You should invite him over to dinner or somethin' soon." Nick pushed aside the next file.

"I probably should. He hasn't been over in a while," Gil said as he flipped through the files.

Nick looked over at Gil. "Don't you guys sometimes go out for drinks after shift is over?"

"Yes, but with the case and everything that's happened since, we haven't had a chance," Gil said.

Nick could feel Gil's calculating stare and he hid his smile. "Maybe you two should go out after the shift is over, catch up."

Gil was silent for a few moments. Finally he said, "I think I will."

"Good," Nick said.

Several minutes later, Nick pushed aside the last of his folders. "I've found ten blond-haired men, two with brown eyes, and both of them were missing persons. Only three have a record, and all three have either blue or green eyes. What about you?"

"Eight blondes, one with brown eyes, also a missing person, and four have records but are blue-eyed. The other three are missing persons. None of them are the right age for our guy."

Nick sighed. "Hey, it was a long shot, but I had to try. Who knows, we may still get lucky. Jacqui still isn't finished."

"Perhaps, but my guess is our suspect's prints are in the unidentified persons boxes."

Nick nodded and stacked the files. "Most likely. I'll put these in the file box, if you wanna go check on Greg's progress with the composite sketch of our suspect."

Gil nodded and stood. As Nick opened the file box, Gil stepped up behind him. "Thank you."

Nick looked over his shoulder and smiled at him. "There's nothin' to thank me for. If you leave me the keys to your townhouse, I'll see if I can't get Greg to stay there tonight."

"I'll give them to you before you leave. If you do go by, could you feed my bugs?"

Nick laughed. "Of course. I'll go by even if I don't get Greg to stay there," he promised.

"Thank you."

Nick looked to see if anyone was in the hallway. No one was there, so he leaned in and quickly brushed a kiss across Gil's mouth. "Not a problem. Now get, you're in my way."

"Hey, Greg, did you finish the composite?" Nick asked as he walked into the break room and found Greg sitting at the table, staring down a can of Coke.

Greg looked up and gave him a shaky smile. "Yeah, I did. I don't know how good it really is, because I don't remember what he looks like exactly. It's been a while. What I told you is accurate, though. I do remember that much."

Nick sat down across from Greg. "Hey, man, it's not a problem. You gave us more than we had before. Don't worry about that."

"I was thinking about staying at a hotel for a while. I don't know if I want to go home, now that I know this guy knows who I am," Greg said.

"You don't have to. Gris already said you could stay at his townhouse for as long as you want. He stays at my house all the time anyway. He just stops by the townhouse to check the mail and feed his bugs."

Greg shook his head. "I couldn't impose on him like that."

"It's not an imposition, Greg. He brought it up, not me. He asked me to convince you to stay there for a while, at least until you're comfortable with going home. If you don't stay at his house, then I'm gonna have to hear about it. Are you gonna do that to me, man? Are you gonna allow Gil Grissom to give me the hairy eyeball in my own home?"

This time Greg's smile was bright and genuine. "You are so full of shit, Nick. But yeah, I guess I'll stay there, if only to save myself from The Look."

"Good, because Gil already gave me the keys to his townhouse. Come on, we're off in five minutes. Let's get outta here, go get your stuff, and then snoop through Gil's personal things."

Somewhere near his ear, an alarm clock went off, sending an annoying series of beeps straight into his brain. Gil groaned and slapped at the clock until it shut off, then he lay there for a few moments to simply enjoy the warmth emanating from Nick. Soon, far too soon for Gil's comfort, he had to get up, which was a difficult task to accomplish when your lover was acting like a human vine. "Nick, honey, I have to get up."

The arm around his waist tightened. "Wha' time's it?" Nick mumbled into Gil's shoulder.

"It's seven-fifteen," Gil said.

"Why're you up? We got time. We don't hafta be in until ten," Nick said, cuddling closer to him and rubbing his face in Gil's neck.

Did Nick have any idea what he did to him when he acted like that? The leg currently sliding between his would indicate the answer to that question was a firm "yes". "Nick, I'd love to, you know that, but I have to stop by my townhouse and take care of my insects. I'm sure my cockroaches are feeling neglected."

"That's 'cause you're always here. You spend all your free time here, and you don't spend any time at the townhouse," Nick said.

Gil stiffened slightly. Was that Nick's way of telling him that he was presuming too much and spending far too much time here? Was Nick tired of him already? A smack to his arm broke him out of his burgeoning panic.

"I know what you're thinkin', so stop it. I think you should bring your bugs over here. We could empty out one of the spare bedrooms and you can set up an office of your own, and that way you can have your bugs here. Then you won't have to worry about gettin' up early, and your roaches won't have hurt feelings."

If Gil was one to get emotional, he might consider crying, because for him, true love was having your partner willing to house your bug collection when everyone else looked at you as if you'd lost your mind for even having one. "You're willing to give up your guest room for me?"

Nick cracked one eye open and looked at him as if he were crazy. "Come on, baby. Most of your clothes are here, many of your books and files have made their way over here. Most of your CDs and DVDs are all mixed up with mine, and you have the house key and the code to my alarm. The only thing you do at the townhouse is collect your mail and feed your bugs. If you think you haven't already moved in with me, you're kidding yourself. And just so you know, I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you and I want you here with me."

Gil stared down at Nick. "What makes you think I want to live here? What if I wanted us to move to the townhouse?"

"Then I'd be packing, but I know you like it here better. It's only ten minutes away from the lab, there's more room, and it's a great neighborhood. If you weren't comfortable, we'd be spending more time at your place, and half your stuff wouldn't be here already," Nick replied smugly.

"That sure of yourself, are you?" Gil said as he peeled himself away from Nick and climbed out of bed.

"Yeah, I am that sure of us. You want me to shower with you?"

Seeing Nick snuggle back into his pillow brought a smile to Gil's face. "No, I don't think so. You get some more sleep, because a shower with you will take up all the time I have before work. If I manage to get out of here early enough, I can feed my insects and my spiders, and then I can start organizing things so I can move in here."

It took about five seconds for Gil to have an armful of Nick. "Really? You're gonna move in? If you do, then everyone's going to know that we're together sooner rather than later. Well, that is, everyone who doesn't already know. I'm ready to face all that, but are you?"

"I am. You're the most important person in my life, Nicky. No one and nothing will ever be more important than you are, and I don't care who knows. I still don't want to advertise our relationship, since it's no one's business but our own, but I'd never planned on hiding it."

Nick gifted Gil with a long, passionate kiss, pouring into it all the love he couldn't vocalize properly. When he broke the kiss, he smiled at the glazed look in Gil's eyes. Nick fell back onto the bed and curled up around a pillow. "Go, shower, feed your bugs. And make sure you let Greg know you're there. You nearly scared the life out of him when you walked in on him while he was showering.

"That wasn't my fault. I thought he'd already left for the office. His car wasn't in my parking space. No one told me his car was in the shop. And the water wasn't running when I walked into the bathroom. He'd just gotten out of the shower." Gil could feel his face heat even as he remembered the day in question. It had happened two weeks ago.

Nick laughed. "Yeah, Greg told me all about it, even if you refused to tell me. I heard you got a peek at the full Sanders package. Just be glad you scared him and he's not one hundred percent comfortable around you yet. Otherwise, you'd have been gifted with the sight of Greg preening in front of you, fishing for compliments. Greg has an exhibitionist streak in him a mile long, if he's around someone he trusts."

"I take it you've had your own private Greg Sanders Peep Show," Gil said, wondering if he should feel jealous of the relationship between Nick and Greg or not. His instincts, however, told him he shouldn't, and besides, he trusted Nick.

"Yeah, once Greg found out I like guys, he felt more comfortable acting like a moron around me. I don't want you gettin' the wrong idea, though. I like Greg and all, and he's pretty hot, but he's not my type. I have this thing for older entomologists."

Gil chuckled and leaned down for a kiss. "I'll see you in a couple of hours. Go back to sleep."

Gil showered, shaved, and dressed quickly. When he was about to leave, he bent over Nick and kissed him on the temple. Nick stirred but didn't wake up.

With one last long look, Gil closed the bedroom door behind him. He made sure to reset the alarm before he locked the door behind him. When he got into his SUV, he looked in the rearview mirror and found himself grinning like an idiot.

He was going to be living with Nick. What did he care if he looked like an idiot?

"Hey, G," Nick said, clapping Greg on the back. "How's it goin'?"

"Hey, Nick. Someone's in a good mood tonight," Greg commented. Actually, Gil had already discussed his plans to move in with Nick when he'd shown up at the townhouse, but Greg wanted to hear it from Nick.

Nick dropped his Krispy Kreme bag on the table and picked up the coffee pot. "Yours?"

"Of course. You think I'm gonna put that other crap into my body? Now, are you going to tell me what's got you walking around with that stupid look on your face, or do I have to play Twenty Questions?"

Nick was about to tell Greg about Gil moving in, but then he saw Sara walking toward them. "I'll tell you later," he promised, motioning toward Sara with his head while bringing the cup to his lips. "Hey, Sara."

"Hey," she said distractedly as she reached for the coffee. "You'll be happy to know we now know where our suspect bought his lumber for the coffins. He bought it at the Home Depot on Fort Apache Road. We were able to find a mark on the wood and we traced it back to that store. If we get lucky, maybe he'll go back to the same place again."

Nick didn't think they'd get that lucky, but who knew what the guy would do. "I guess we'll find out."

"Yeah, we will. Greg, Grissom wants us to process a 419 in the parking lot at the Stardust. Day shift is backed up again," she said as she took her coffee and headed toward the locker room. "I'll meet you outside," she yelled back.

"Guess I've gotta go," Greg said, rinsing out his mug. "We'll talk later."

Nick caught up with Greg after shift. "Hey, G, you wanna go out for somethin' to eat? I'm buyin'." It had been a while since he'd spent any time with Greg, other than a few weeks ago when he'd helped Greg move in.

"Sure. Meet me at the steakhouse?" Greg said as he slid into his car.

"You got it. I'll see you in a few."

As soon as they slid into the booth and gave the waitress their order, Nick blurted out, "Gil's going to move in with me." He hadn't planned on saying that, but he was so excited he couldn't keep it to himself any longer, and Greg was the only person he could talk about this with. Nick had finally told Warrick about his relationship with Gil, and he'd taken it pretty well, but Nick didn't feel comfortable confiding in him.

Greg laughed at Nick's exuberance. "Congratulations. Grissom told me when he came over to the townhouse earlier. I'm happy for you. I knew you two were made for each other."

"Thanks, man. He's gonna start movin' his stuff over as soon as he gets all packed up."

"If he wants me to help out, let me know. I was planning on moving back to my condo in a few days, but I can stay on a little longer if he needs me to help him pack his stuff."

Nick frowned. "Are you sure you want to go back? You don't have to leave. He wasn't planning on selling the townhouse any time soon, since he wanted to make a few repairs beforehand. You're welcome to stay."

"I know I am, but I need to get back. I can't let that guy scare me into hiding." Seeing the frown on Nick's face, Greg relented a little. "Look, I'll stay for a couple of weeks more and help Gil out with packing. Then I'm going home, okay?"

Nick sighed. He knew if Greg really wanted to go home, he couldn't stop him. He only hoped Greg knew what he was doing. "So, have any new games I can kick your ass at?"

"What are you doing out here?" Greg asked as he walked out of the lab to find Nick sitting on the wall, staring out at the traffic passing by.

"Just waitin' for Gil. He's running late, as usual," Nick said with a laugh. "Are we still on for Saturday mornin'?" He and Greg had made plans to try out a new football game for the PlayStation 2, since Nick had the night off.

"Yep. I've got the game if you'll bring breakfast," Greg said.

"No problem. How are things goin' at your house?"

"Fine. I'm glad I'm off tomorrow. I plan on sleeping in, then maybe going out with some friends tonight or something. I don't know yet, but I do know that tomorrow morning I desperately need to hit the grocery store."

Nick laughed. "That bad, huh?"

"Of course. I think I have a dill pickle and half a jar of mustard, and maybe some old bread," Greg said. "I'm going to stop by the diner and get something for breakfast, and then I'm gonna crash."

"Have fun," Nick said.

"Bye!" Greg said, waving at him.

Greg tossed his keys on the kitchen table and put down his breakfast. He was so glad he had the next day off, because he really needed it. They'd been on the serial killer case for nearly six months, and he'd only had six days off since it started. And he knew exactly what he wanted to do with his time. First, he was going to eat. Then he was going to shower. After that, he was going to slip into bed and sleep until he was ready to wake up. No alarms, no phone calls, no one to bother him.

He was still a little scared to be here by himself, especially with their killer still out there, but after spending five weeks at Gil's townhouse, he decided it was time to come home. He'd spent the last four days at home, and he was starting to get comfortable here again. After all, they didn't even know if their suspect knew where he lived.

Just as Greg kicked off his shoes, the doorbell rang. "I wonder who that is," Greg said to himself as he went to the front door. He peeked through the peephole and saw a man in a UPS hat. Remembering that his mother was sending him some things from his room because they were turning it into a nursery for their first grandchild, Greg opened the door.

"Hi, got a package for me?" he asked.

The man turned to face him and the blood drained from Greg's face as the barrel of a gun was shoved into his chest. Looking up, he found himself face to face with the last person he wanted to see.

Timothy's smile was wide as he looked Greg in the eye. "Hello, Greg Sanders. We meet again."

Chapter Eleven

Gil walked into the break room to find Nick half-sitting on the counter and Catherine standing a couple of feet away. She was laughing softly at whatever Nick had said to her. The smile on Nick's face made Gil's heart do those weird things it always did whenever Nick was involved. Gil cleared his throat and walked up to them.

"Catherine, Phillips needs you to take a suicide victim at the Luxor," Gil said, handing her the assignment sheet.

"Oh, joy. Is it a jumper? Please tell me it's not. I hate jumpers."

Gil looked at her over his glasses and smirked. "No, it's not a jumper. Our victim slashed her wrists in the tub."

Catherine nodded as she read over the paper.

Gil turned to Nick. "Greg isn't here yet?"

"Nah, he'll be here in a few. He's never late. We're all early, remember?" Nick replied as he looked at his watch. Greg still had five minutes before he was late. "Anything special you want us to do?"

"Yes, I want you two to go back to our suspects house and see if we missed anything. Look for any secret compartments, recheck all the furniture for false areas, and check the floorboards and any air vents. I don't think we did, but I want one last go through on that house. Brass is sending an officer out to meet you."

"You got it, Gris."

"Grissom, may I speak with you in your office for a moment?" Ecklie asked. He didn't wait for an answer, just turned and headed in the direction of Gil's office.

Gil gave Nick and Catherine a half-amused smirk, before calling out, "Sure, I'll be right with you." To them, he said, "Nick, when Greg gets here, you two head out to the house. Report to me as soon as you get back."

Nick laughed at the heavy sigh Gil released before he turned around and trudged down the hallway to his office. Poor Gil.

"Later, Cath," Nick said as she left on assignment. Sitting down on a chair, Nick pulled the newspaper toward him to check out the sports page while he waited for Greg.

Twenty minutes after he sat down with the sports page, Nick started wondering where Greg was. The man was notoriously on time, especially since he’d started training to become a C.S.I. Nick supposed there could be bad traffic on the road, so he went back to reading the newspaper, even though his mind was only half on what he was reading.

Twenty more minutes passed, and Nick picked up his cell and called Greg's house. He let it ring fifteen times before hanging up and calling Greg's cell. He didn't get an answer. Nick strode out of the break room and outside. As he searched the parking lot and street for any sign of Greg's car, he called Greg's house and cell phones again. He tried them again, two, three, four more times. No answer.

Going from concerned to panicked in point zero two seconds, Nick sprinted down the hallway, ignoring Hodges' yells as Nick nearly mowed him down. He shoved open the door of Gil's office. The two men inside talking looked up at him.

"Can we help you?" Ecklie said, obviously annoyed with his interruption. "We're a little busy."

Nick looked at Ecklie like he was an idiot, which he was. "I don't care. Gil, I think we've got a serious problem."

"What's wrong, Nicky?" Gil asked him, his expression changing from amused to concerned.

"Greg is almost an hour late. I've tried his house and cell phones repeatedly, and there's no answer. I called him this morning and didn't get an answer, but I just thought maybe he was asleep or out or somethin'. I shoulda known somethin’ was wrong. He always answers his phone or he calls me back. His answering machine isn't even picking up."

"Are you sure he's just not late or has his cell phone on vibrate?" Ecklie asked. "I think it's a bit premature to be worried."

"Yeah, maybe if this were any other time, but that was before we found out our resident serial killer had Greg targeted as one of his victims," Nick snapped back. He knew it wasn't fair to Ecklie, since he didn't really know anything about the case and might not know about Timothy's written admittance that he'd thought of abducting Greg, but God! This was Greg they were talking about. "Gris, let me go out with a patrol car to Greg's house. We'll take the route Greg always takes, see if maybe his car's broken down on the side of the road. As soon as we get to his house, I'll call you."

Gil shook his head. "Good idea, but I'm coming with you. Ecklie, call Catherine, Sara, and Warrick, and have them on standby. This guy decided against abducting Greg because he found out Greg worked for the Las Vegas Crime Lab, but now that we've found him out, he just might decide to take Greg because he's a C.S.I. Come on, Nick. I'll call Brass and have him meet us there."

Nick led the way out of the lab, leading Gil by the elbow as Gil dialed the number to Brass's phone. Nick didn't want him to slam into a door or something because he was paying more attention to the phone than where he was going.

"Hello, Jim, it's Gil. We've got a problem. Greg hasn't shown up for work, and he hasn't been heard from since yesterday. We're heading out to Greg's house, so could you meet us there? Thanks, Jim."

Nick only half listened to Gil's side of the conversation as he tried reaching Greg again, to no avail. "Nothin', man. Greg always answers his phone. Always."

"Okay, let's go through this. If this Timothy has taken Greg, then you might have been the last person to speak with him. Take me through your last conversation," Gil said as he took the keys out of Nick's hand and slid into the driver's seat of the Tahoe. It was a smart move, since Nick might drive them off the road while he was looking for any sign of his friend.

In the passenger's seat, Nick kept his eyes open as they pulled out into the street. He didn't have to tell Gil how to get to Greg's house, since he lived in a condominium five minutes away from Nick and Gil, and he took the same route to the lab. "It was at the lab, right after our shift, yesterday morning. We were talking about a new game for the PlayStation 2, and we made plans to have a go at it on Saturday morning, since I had Saturday night off and could sleep in while you went to work. You know Greg, he can manage work on a few hours sleep and an IV drip of Blue Hawaiian.

"Right after we made our plans, he said he was going to pick up something from the diner and then go home and get some sleep. I said goodnight to him and watched him leave. The last I saw of him was his taillights as he left the parking lot of the lab. I was waiting for you. You came out about five minutes later, and then we went home."

"You said you called him this morning?" Gil asked.

"Yeah. He had last night off, and we were busy going through the evidence for the case, so I didn't think anything of it that Greg didn't call to annoy me like he usually does. This morning when you said you were going to stay for a couple more hours, I called him to see if he wanted to meet me for some breakfast. I didn't get an answer, so I figured either he was still out with friends or perhaps he was asleep and didn't hear the phone. I left him a brief message, told him I'd see him at the lab. I wasn't expecting him to call me back, so I didn't worry about it. I should have, though. Greg always calls me back, even when he doesn't have to."

"You can't tear yourself up about this, Nick. Maybe there's nothing wrong. Don't go borrowing trouble until we know for certain what it is that's going on," Gil said.

A hand reached over to clasp his, and Nick clung to it gratefully. He would never, never forgive himself if something happened to Greg. This was Greg, sweet, funny Greg, who worked so hard and tried more than anyone to do the good and right thing, who never purposefully hurt anyone. Greg, who could annoy Nick and make him laugh all at the same time. Greg, who supported Gil and him and would continue to do so when their relationship came out.

The rest of the ride went by in tense silence. There was no sign of Greg anywhere on the road leading from the lab to his condominium. "The code is 89629," he said as they reached the gate. Looking in the parking lot, Nick pointed out Greg's car. "His car's here, at least. He lives in 12." As soon as Gil stopped the car, Nick jumped out, ready to run right up to Greg's door.

"Nicky, don't even think about it," Brass said as he put his hand on Nick's shoulder. "You know the drill. Let us go in first.

Nick stood back, waiting impatiently as Brass and the other officer knocked on the door.

They waited a few moments, but when there was no answer, Brass indicated to the other officer to break down the door.

Nick spoke up. "Whoa, guys, I have a key." He held up the key chain he'd dug out of his pocket and then tossed it to the officer. "The red keys are to Greg's front door. Faster than breaking open the deadbolt."

The officer unlocked the door and he and Brass went in, their guns drawn. A couple of extraordinarily long minutes passed before Brass came back out. "Greg's not here. Guys, this doesn't look good."

Nick and Gil walked past Brass and took in the scene before them.

Nick shook his head. "This isn't right," he said as he looked around the living room. "Things in this room are all out of place, as if someone was examining everything. This is the one room Greg keeps just about perfect, in case company stops by. He doesn't want anyone to know he's a complete slob."

Gil, who had walked into the kitchen while Nick was talking, came back out. "There's an uneaten breakfast from Mickey's Diner and an open bottle of Champagne sitting on the counter."

Nick frowned. "Greg doesn't drink Champagne. I know he usually keeps a bottle in case one of his dates wants some, but he wouldn't drink it while he's alone. He doesn't like it very much."

Nick shined his ALS on the sofa, his stomach sinking as biological fluid lit up everywhere. "Jesus, Gil."

Gil felt a little sick himself as he stepped up next to Nick. "It could be Greg's, from when he, uh…"

Nick shook his head. "Greg has this thing about his couch. He doesn't jerk off in the living room. Something about body fluids and people sitting on the couch."

"And you know this how?" Gil asked as he pulled out his phone.

"Greg goes into overshare mode once he's had more than a couple of beers. I try hard not to listen, but I can't help hearing things once in a while. Who are you calling?"

"Ecklie." Gil stepped out of Nick's way and headed toward the stairs, checking for any little thing that might help them find Greg.

"Ecklie," Conrad's voice said as he picked up.

"It's Grissom. Greg Sanders is missing. We think our serial killer has abducted him. Get my team over here now."

"Don't you think you're a little too close to this, Gil?"

"No, Conrad. This is our case, and it's our colleague who’s been taken. Please tell them to hurry. I'm afraid our killer has a head start on us, and I want to get this scene processed as soon as possible. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we'll find Greg." Gil didn't wait to see if Ecklie had anything to say, he just snapped his phone shut and headed back to Nick.

"Nick, I want you to have a look around here. You know this place better than any of us. If there is anything out of place or out of the ordinary, I want you to point it out immediately."

"I've already got somethin'," Nick said, holding up a photo album. "This was here on the coffee table."

"What's so unusual about that?"

"Greg doesn't keep this downstairs. He keeps it upstairs in his office, in a fire resistant filing cabinet. He keeps anything in there he doesn't want to lose in a fire. His birth certificate, shot records, diplomas, all that kind of stuff. He never leaves his photo album out in the open, because it has some old photographs of Papa Olaf in it. See?" Nick turned to the front of the album, showing Gil old, sepia-toned photographs of a handsome young man.

"Greg looks a little like him, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, he does. There's somethin' else. There's a couple of pictures missin' from the album." Nick turned back to the middle pages. "See? Here and here."

"Do you know what's missing?"

"Yep. The rest of the pictures on these pages are of the night when Greg went to Krave with his friends." Nick turned his head to look Gil in the eye. "What if our suspect was looking at the photos and noticed himself in these two?"

"Do you think we can get whomever took these to send us copies?" Gil asked.

"No need," Nick said, turning and heading upstairs. Inside Greg's office, Nick pushed some papers off the computer keyboard and booted up Greg's computer. "Those pictures were printed off his computer. I was here playin' video games the day his friend emailed them to him." As soon as Windows asked for the password, he typed in "gregissohot".

Gil watched his fingers move and couldn't help but feel amused. "Did you just type in what I think you just typed in?"

"Yeah. I've tried to get him to change it, but I think he gets a kick out of seein' me type it every time I use his computer," Nick said while he impatiently tapped his fingers against the desk. When the computer was finally ready, Nick headed for the My Documents and clicked on the Porn folder.

"Do I want to know why you're clicking on Porn?"

"I'm gonna have to introduce you to Greg and his warped sense of humor. The Porn folder is where he keeps all his personal stuff. The My Pictures section is where he keeps his porn. He says he does it to teach anyone snooping on his computer a lesson about keeping their eyeballs to themselves. I think he just likes to weird out the unsuspecting. Here we go."

Using the picture preview, Nick quickly went through the photos, slowing down when he found the pictures from that night. He stopped on one. "Right there," he said, pointing to the top right-hand corner of the photograph. Greg and Marcus were posing for a picture in the foreground, but in the background, not too far away, stood a blond-haired man who was staring intently at the two posing. Nick pressed "print" and shoved a floppy disk into the A drive. After saving the photograph to the drive, he found the other photo and did the same thing. He saved the pictures to three more disks, just in case something happened to one of them, and he handed them to Gil.

"We need to get these to Archie and see if he can blow up the image for us," Gil said.

Gil moved to go back downstairs but Nick didn't follow. Instead he went across the hall, into Greg's bedroom. Looking at the condition of the bed, Nick whispered, "Oh, God."

The bed was completely stripped, except for the bottom sheet. Strips of sheets were still tied to the head- and footboards. Nick knew they were probably used to tie Greg up. He didn't need any special equipment to see the blood and semen all over the bed. "He raped him before he took him," he said to Gil, who had just stepped up beside him.

"Yeah, it looks like he did it more than once. I just looked in the bathroom. There are four condoms in the garbage. It looks like they were here for a while."

"The bastard probably waited until it was really late to get Greg out of here without suspicion. Plenty of time to terrorize Greg in his own home."

"Come on, Nick. I want you to take these disks back to the lab and get Archie on them right away. Tell him to put everything else aside. There is nothing more important than this right now."

Nick nodded. Part of him was relieved to be leaving, if only to give him time to get his bearings. He passed Warrick and Sara on his way out the door.

"Where are you going?" Sara asked as he passed her.

"To the lab to get this picture of our serial killer blown up," he said, holding up the disks.

"Wait a minute, we have a picture. Where did it come from? How did we get it?" Sara asked, grabbing Nick's arm.

Nick stopped and turned. "The suspect was in pictures that were taken the night Greg and his friends were at Krave. Timothy took the pictures he was in from Greg's photo album. I would have never thought to look for them if I hadn't noticed they were gone. Bastard did us a favor. Look, Gris is workin' in there to get the scene processed as fast as possible. It'd be nice if you went in and helped." Nick shook off Sara's hand and walked into the parking lot to slide into Gil's SUV.

Once inside the car, Nick took a deep breath and let it out slowly before starting the car. As he drove back to the lab, Nick couldn't help but feel guilty. He should have realized something was wrong when Greg didn't call him back. It was so out of character that it should have raised an alarm, especially with a serial killer interested in Greg.

All Nick knew was that if Greg died, he wouldn't forgive himself.

The next day at the lab, Gil called a conference. "Okay, what do we know about our suspect?" Gil asked as he sat down at the head of the table in the break room. There was a sandwich in front of him, but he pushed it to the side. At the moment he was too nauseous to put anything into his stomach.

"He's been at this for thirty-five years. He doesn't choose his victims in one particular way, and race, sexual preference, and age don't matter much to him," Sara said.

"He's never taken anyone over the age of fifty," Warrick pointed out, "nor has he ever taken anyone younger than seventeen."

"So we have a serial killer who doesn't have a thing for minors and old people," Sara said.

"Once he gets his victims back to his home, he doesn't deviate from his normal pattern," Nick said. "He always ties them up in the attic and then goes downstairs to write in his journal. He starts out with causing them physical pain, and he either rapes them or sodomizes them with foreign objects that aren't too damaging. He does feed them and he cares for them, but as the weeks go by he starts losing interest in them. He feeds them less, he tortures them more, and the sodomy is more violent, and he uses objects that will cause more damage. When he gets to the point where he's ready to kill, he's stopped raping them himself and solely uses foreign objects. His method of killing is to use a local anesthetic on their penile region, remove their penis and testicles, and then he hangs them from a rafter with a homemade rope while he sits in a chair in front of them and masturbates. After his victim is dead and our suspect has ejaculated, he freezes his victim's body parts and saves them for the one-year anniversary of his victim's death, when he thaws, cooks, and consumes them."

Everyone around the table pushed their food to the center of the table. Ignoring the movement, Gil said, "You're right, Nick. This method was perfected thirty years ago, and he hasn’t deviated from it since, which means we have some time before he even considers killing Greg. I suggest you put the idea that Greg is dead out of your mind and focus on what we need to find him. What else do we know about our suspect?"

"The wood," Warrick said. "All the wood he uses is California pine. He will not use any other kind of wood for his coffins. We took away his supply when we found his house. If he's set up shop somewhere else, then he'll need his wood. My guess is he's already picked up a shipment or has had one put in."

"Good. Warrick, Sara, and Catherine, I want you to call any place in and around Vegas that sells wood and find out if anyone has bought a large order of California pine."

"What about the picture?" Sara asked. "Are you sure we shouldn't put it out there?"

Gil shook his head. "We don't want to call attention to him, and you know that putting the picture out there will cause a panic. We'll get so many calls it'll take weeks to get through all the false leads. Let's see what comes up with the search for the wood. Nick, you're with me. We're going to look at some maps of Vegas and try to find the most likely places he'd settle down in."

Nick nodded and got up to follow Gil. He knew the maps were mostly a distraction from the time they were losing, but it was better than sitting around and doing nothing.

Nick walked into Gil's office and flopped down in the chair. It had been three days since Greg had disappeared and Nick hadn't slept since. Neither had Gil.

"Gil, we're running out of time," Nick said, giving voice to what they all were thinking.

"You can't think like that. Our suspect hasn't deviated from his pattern as far as we know," Gil said calmly, his tone a pathetic attempt to quell the rising panic in Nick. He felt the panic as well, but he wouldn't let it rule him. Greg's life depended on his ability to remain calm and rational. "Many victims were abducted from their homes. All of his victims were kept for at least a month before he decided to kill them, and many lasted two months or more.

"Remember what you read about Greg in Timothy's journal? He never spoke about anyone the way he spoke about Greg. He will find it more difficult to harm or kill Greg, and that's what we've got to count on. We will get Greg back alive, if not well. We won't lose him to this bastard. We'll find something soon. Catherine and Patrick have been on the phone to every hardware store, to every place selling lumber and yard equipment. We'll get a break soon."

Whatever Nick might have said was interrupted when Catherine burst into the office.

"Gil, we might have a lead! I just got off the phone with a lumberyard on Brentwood Drive. They checked their records and three weeks ago they received an order for two thousand dollars worth of lumber, the exact type of wood our suspect used to create his coffins."

"That sounds like our guy," Nick said eagerly. "Do they know anything about him?"

"They have his address, since he asked that his purchases be delivered to his home, but they can't give it to us without a warrant. I've already called Brass, and he's on his way to get the warrant for the purchase order."

"Shouldn't we head down there?" Nick asked.

"I was about to suggest that," Gil said, standing up and pushing everyone out of the office in front of him. "Nick, Warrick and Sara are in our lab room looking over notes for any clues we might have missed. Tell them to meet us outside."

"I'm on my way," Nick said, taking off at a run.

As soon as Catherine was out of earshot, Gil said, "Help me keep him calm. He's taking this so much worse than everyone else, and he shows it even though he doesn't mean to. I know we're going to find Greg, and I know Timothy won't kill him until he's ready to, regardless of whether or not we're looking for him. He has to follow his pattern. To deviate from it, especially with Greg, isn't acceptable to him."

"I hope you're right, because I don't think I could stand it if Greg died. He's too much a part of our lives."

Gil reached out and rubbed her arm. He knew how protective she'd been towards Greg ever since the lab explosion. "I know I'm right. Trust me."

"I trust you. I don't trust our killer," Catherine said with a sigh. Her phone rang. "Willows. Okay thanks." She turned to Gil. "Brass has our warrant. He's going to meet us there."

Footsteps behind them alerted Catherine and Gil to the others' arrival. "Jim's meeting us there with the warrant," Gil informed them as they all walked out the door. Gil slid on his shades. "Nick, Sara, you're with me. Warrick, you ride with Catherine."

Knowing Gil wouldn't let him drive in his current state, Nick went around the SUV and slid into the passenger seat. The ride to the lumberyard was tense. Nick couldn't do anything but stare out the window and fidget in his seat. He couldn't keep his legs from shaking and his fingers from tapping on the armrest.

At a stoplight a few blocks from their destination, Gil reached over and rested his hand on Nick's. "Nicky, look at me."

Nick did and saw the question in Gil's eyes, asking if he was okay. "Yeah," he said.

Gil squeezed Nick's hand before returning his to the wheel.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot, Nick got a hold of himself. He followed Gil and Sara into the office area of Henderson's Lumber. They found Brass and another officer waiting for them.

As soon as Gil walked up, Brass handed him the paper. "We've got ten cruisers on standby, waiting for confirmation that this is our guy. As soon as I give the word, they're ready to head out."

Gil nodded. "Timothy Mitchell. Where is this address located?"

The man behind the counter spoke up. "It's located about fifty miles from here. It's in a secluded area. His house is only one of three houses on Red Oak Road. It's the property furthest back. The other two houses are so far away you can't see them from the front of the house."

"Were you the one who delivered the wood?" Nick asked while he opened the folder to take out a picture.

"Yeah, my brother and I delivered the wood."

"Did you get a good look at the guy?"

"Yeah, he seemed nice. He was older, blond, and tall. He smiled a lot."

Nick thrust the picture toward the man. "Is this him?"

The man took a long look. "Yeah, that's definitely him."

Nick pulled the picture back, his hands shaking from relief.

Gil looked over at their witness. "Did you notice anything odd at the house? Anything at all?"

"I didn't, but my brother noticed all the windows were either boarded up, had foil paper covering them, or had heavy drapes. None of the windows were open to let the sunlight in. Frank's a real outdoors kind of guy, so he'd notice something like that."

Gil nodded. This was definitely their guy. "Thank you very much. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't speak to anyone about this. We suspect he is holding someone at the moment, and if this were to get out, his victim could be in a great deal of trouble."

And so would you didn't need to be added. Their witness heard it loud and clear. "I won't say anything, sir. Count on it. I hope the guy's okay."

"So do I," Nick muttered as he turned on his heel and headed back toward the SUV.

At least they now knew where their killer was holding Greg hostage. Nick only hoped they'd get there in time.

Chapter Twelve

Nick's heart seemed to pound a thousand times a minute as he sat in the back seat of the SUV. Sara was driving, since she didn't trust Gil or him to get them to their destination in one piece. She'd been strangely quiet since their ride to the lumberyard. Nick didn't know what her problem was, and at the moment he didn't care. He'd figure it out later, after Greg was safe.

Right now, all he could think about was Greg. He could see Greg in his mind's eye, laid out on the table, tied up like one of those scientific experiments he'd seen on those cheesy alien movies. Only Greg wasn't being studied to learn about the human species. He was being hit with weapons, cut with whips, raped by Timothy and sodomized by foreign objects.

Nick could cry thinking about the hopelessness and despair Greg must be feeling, wondering when they were going to find him, if they were going to find him. He could almost hear Greg pray for them to hurry, to save him before his tormentor damaged him beyond help.

Gil wasn't faring much better in the front. Sara kept giving him sideways looks, chock full of anger, hurt, and confusion, and it was really starting to annoy him. Unlike Nick, he had an idea what her problem was, but now wasn't the time or place to deal with it. If it were up to him, they wouldn't talk about it at all, but he knew her too well. Hopefully it could wait until everything settled down.

Finally, after a forty-minute drive, their long line of vehicles pulled three quarters of the way up the drive. Nick watched as Brass and about fifteen officers quietly exited their cars and ran up the rest of the way. As Nick got out of their car, he could hear music coming from the house. If they were lucky, Mitchell wouldn't know about their arrival until it was too late.

Some of the officers went around the house toward the back while Brass and seven others went to the front door. Brass tried the front door, and to his surprise it was unlocked. Then again, they were in the middle of nowhere, and Mitchell's last home proved he was more concerned about locking his victims in upstairs than he was worried about someone breaking in the front door.

Brass sent four officers to scour the upstairs area while they checked the first floor. A few seconds later, Brass heard a scream that made his blood run cold coming from a room on the first floor, toward the back of the house. He and the rest of the officers quickly but quietly ran toward the room.

Brass froze only momentarily when he saw Greg, bloody and unconscious, strapped to an operating table. Seeing motion out of the corner of his eye, he aimed his weapon at Mitchell. "L.V.P.D. Freeze, you son of a bitch!"

Mitchell's eyes shifted from Brass to Greg. Moving faster than Brass ever would have expected, Mitchell grabbed a long kitchen knife and lunged toward Greg.

Nick followed Gil and the rest of the team up toward the front porch. He was only mildly surprised to find Ecklie standing with them as well. All of them drew their weapons, just in case Mitchell tried to sneak out the front door, though Nick highly doubted that was possible.

As they reached the front porch, a blood-curdling scream reached their ears, and a few seconds later, they could hear Brass scream, "L.V.P.D. Freeze, you son of a bitch!" The next thing they heard were shots being fired. Looking in, they could see officers come thundering down the stairs and running toward the back of the house.

Nick, not caring that they should be waiting outside for Brass's okay, ran inside and stood behind the officers.

As soon as Brass confirmed that Mitchell was dead, Nick yelled, "Get outta the way!" and pushed his way past the officers who crowded the doorway. He dashed across the room, holstering his gun as he reached Greg's side. Let him be okay, just let him be okay, was the chant running through Nick's head on a constant loop.

"Watch yourself, Nick. I don't want you breaking your neck," Brass said.

Nick ignored him as he pulled off his jacket and draped it carefully over Greg's groin. The last thing Greg would want, he knew, was everyone staring at his naked body, seeing the evidence of the horrifying ordeal he'd just been through. Then he reached out and stroked Greg's cheek. "Hey, Greggo, man. Wake up. Come on, it's okay now. Gil and I are here," he said, his voice breaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gil come up next to him and reach out to stroke Greg's hair. "Catherine, Sara, Warrick, they're here, too. Hell, even Ecklie dragged his ass out of the office to help find you. How about that, huh? You know you're important when Ecklie bothers to get off his butt for one of us night shifters."

Gil's voice, when he spoke, was close to breaking. "The ambulance is coming up the drive."

"Nick," Greg whispered as he regained consciousness, his voice hoarse and cracking.

Nick closed his eyes and his entire body slumped with relief. Ignoring the tears making tracks down his face, Nick gave Greg as bright a smile as he could muster. "Hey, Greg. Gil and I are here. You're safe now. We're gonna take care of you."

As Greg's grogginess lifted, his breathing became rapid, and he started yanking at the manacles that were holding his arms and legs. "Where is he? What's going on? Get me out of this!"

It broke Nick's heart to hear how fragile and desperate Greg sounded.

"Shh. It's okay, Greg. They're workin' on your legs now. Mitchell is dead, Greg. He's over there, on the floor. He can't hurt you anymore."

Greg turned his head, searching for the body. Knowing that he wouldn't calm down until he saw that the bastard really was dead, Nick stepped aside, revealing the body to Greg's line of sight. Greg looked at Mitchell for a minute, and then he turned his head away from Nick. Greg's entire body shook with uncontrolled sobs, and Nick was sure Greg would curl in on himself it were possible.

"Get these things off him now!" Gil snapped as he continued to stroke Greg's hair with slow, gentle strokes. "Nick and I are going to take you to the hospital, Greg."

"Don't leave me," Greg cried. "Don't leave me alone with him. Don't make me go by myself. He'll get me. He knew. Where I lived, when I got home, he knew."

"We're not going anywhere. We'll be with you the entire time," Gil promised him. "He's dead, he can't get you anymore. We won't let anyone get you again."

Gil looked at Nick, and Nick nodded. "They couldn't force us away at gunpoint."

The officers, having freed Greg's legs, started working on his arms. The EMTs came in with a stretcher and waited for them to finish.

"I wanna talk to the EMTs, Greg. I'll be right back." Nick waited for Greg to nod and he moved away.

He waved the EMTs to the side. Luckily, these were guys they'd worked with several times before, so he didn't think he and Gil would have any problems. "Grissom and I are goin' with you guys to the hospital. I don't want any argument about it. Greg is about two seconds away from completely freaking out, and there's no way we're lettin' him out of here without us. You want us to stay out of the ambulance, you're gonna hafta shoot us, understand?"

"We understand, Mr. Stokes. After what he's been through, you aren't going to get any complaints from us."

Nick nodded. "That's good. Thanks, man." It was a good thing they'd agreed, because they would have had about six investigators, a homicide detective, and numerous officers tying them up and taking Greg to the hospital in the ambulance themselves. No way were any of them leaving Greg alone, not for a very long time. He was one of theirs, and no one was getting in their way.

"Nick."

Nick immediately went to Gil's side. "Yeah?"

"The officers are done. We've got more than enough on Mitchell, not that it matters, since the bastard is dead, so we're going to take Greg out now, and fuck the scene. Warrick, Sara, and Catherine can take care of things here." Gil turned to the EMTs. "Let's get Greg out of here. Brass, Warrick, drag Mitchell out of the way so they can get that gurney in here."

It didn't take long to get Greg onto the gurney, once Greg understood what was going on and allowed Nick and Gil to help him onto it; Greg's reaction to having the EMTs touch him was enough to make Nick think they might have to sedate Greg, but it seemed that as long as Gil or Nick was there, he remained somewhat calm.

As calm as someone who'd been raped and tortured for three days could possibly be.

The ride to the hospital was a quiet one, with Greg slipping in and out of consciousness. Luck was with them, since they were able to get Greg out of the house before the media got there. They actually passed them on the road, about a mile away from the house. "Vultures," Gil half snarled. Nick couldn't agree more with that sentiment. How they’d found out so quickly was beyond him. It was probably a leak at the department, but that was someone else's problem.

Nick finally took time to actually look at the damage done to Greg. When they'd found him, Nick had been too worried about whether he was alive or dead to see what was wrong with him.

Nick winced as he inspected Greg's injuries. His entire face was bruised and swollen, his bottom lip was split, and there were rope marks around his neck. He could see bruises, cuts, and burns around his shoulders and down his arms. His wrists were raw from where the manacles had scraped against the skin.

Nick lifted the sheet to look at his legs. He choked back a sob as he dropped the sheet. Greg's legs were worse, sporting the same marks as his arms, but they were also lined with raw whip marks. Nick really didn't want to know what kind of damage had been done to Greg's most personal areas.

Nick closed his eyes and hung his head. "If Mitchell wasn't dead, I'd kill him myself, just take my time and enjoy every minute of it," he said in a harsh whisper. He didn't want to wake Greg if he was sleeping.

Gil rubbed his back in small circles, and some of the tension bled out of Nick's body. "I know, Nicky. The important thing to focus on right now is that Greg is alive, and he'll be okay."

"How can he be? Look at what that bastard did to him," Nick said in a broken whisper.

"It's going to take a lot of time and we're going to have to help him, all of us. I won't let him break now that he's safe. I know you won't either," Gil said. He wrapped an arm around Nick's waist and Nick leaned into him and rested his head on Gil's shoulder. Neither of them cared that the EMTs were right there watching them. "None of us will. He's important to all of us. I have no doubt Catherine's going to be mothering him for the rest of his life."

"He'll stay with us," Nick decided. "We've got plenty of room, and he can't go back home by himself. He was abducted from his own condo, raped in his own place. I won't let him go back there and have to live through that every moment of the day."

"I'm not complaining. I was thinking the same thing as well. We can work out all the details later, once we get him medical attention."

Nick nodded and straightened up as they turned into the emergency room entrance.

Once Greg was checked in, Nick and Gil went to sit in the waiting area, since they wouldn't let them in to see Greg until they put him into a room. At least they didn't have to worry about getting in like Gil had when Nick was in the hospital. Nick was listed as Greg's emergency contact.

It was the better part of an hour before a doctor finally came out to talk to them. "We're going to have to take Mr. Sanders into surgery. He's got some tearing in his rectum that cannot heal on its own as it is. We've treated his burns and abrasions as best we could. Some of the lacerations on Mr. Sanders' legs required stitches. The rest of his injuries will have to heal on their own, though we'll continue to treat them to prevent infection and reduce the scarring.

"Mr. Sanders also had severe bruising to his kidneys and liver. He'll have to stay in the hospital for about a week to keep an eye on things, but I don't think any permanent damage has been done."

"Do you have any idea how long it will take for the surgery?" Gil asked.

"A couple of hours, possibly longer. We want to be thorough to prevent infection. I'll notify you as soon as Mr. Sanders is out of surgery."

"Thank you," Nick said. After the doctor left, Nick clasped Gil's hand and twined their fingers together. "Think we should call Catherine? I'm sure they're worried sick."

"I suppose I should, before Catherine comes in screaming about why I haven't called yet," Gil said, taking out his phone.

Nick chuckled. "She does like to lecture you, doesn't she?"

"That she does," he said to Nick. "Catherine? It's Gil," he said as soon as she picked up.

"It's about time you called," Nick heard Catherine say through the phone. He rested his head on Gil's shoulder so he could hear the conversation better. "It's been almost two hours since you left here."

"I know, but the doctor just came out to speak with us. If I had called you to let you know that we were waiting for the doctor, you would have asked me why I was calling when I didn't have any news," Gil said in his "let's be reasonable" tone.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. How is Greg? Is he going to be all right? How bad are his injuries? Have you been in to see him yet? What's-"

"Catherine! How am I supposed to answer if you don't quit asking questions?"

"Sorry. Go ahead."

"They've taken him into surgery. He has some tearing in his rectum that needs to be tended to. He had to have stitches on some of the cuts on his legs, and they've treated his abrasions and burns. It'll be two or three hours before he gets out of surgery and anyone can see him."

Catherine sighed, and Nick could hear the relief in her voice. "Thank God. Call us as soon as you know anything. We'll all be there as soon as possible. If you see him before we get there, tell Greg we all love him and we'll help him get through this."

"I will, Catherine. How are things there?"

"Fine. David just left, took that bastard Mitchell down to the morgue. We've gathered the photographs and videos Mitchell made of Greg. Ecklie suggested we burn them and pretend they never existed."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Nick said through a yawn. Now that Greg was safe in the hospital and their serial killer was dead, fatigue was starting to overrun his body.

"Keep them all together in a sealed box, and once we're sure there's nothing we need, we'll have a little bonfire in the back lot," Gil said. "No one needs to look at them in the meantime."

"All right, Gil. I'll talk with you in a while. Bye Nicky."

"Bye," Nick said around another yawn.

As soon as Gil put his cell phone away, he put his arm around Nick's shoulders and pulled him closer. A couple of older women in the waiting room looked upon them with disgust, but Gil couldn't care less. "Get some sleep, Nick. It'll be a while before Greg is out of surgery."

"I'll try. When I close my eyes, all I can see is Greg lying on the table. I don't know how to stop it."

"Just try. I know you're exhausted." Nothing else was forthcoming, and after a few minutes, Gil thought Nick was finally asleep. Gil was falling into a light sleep himself when Nick's voice startled him awake.

"We can move the pool table into the garage."

"What's that, Nick?" he asked as he yawned.

"I was just thinkin' about how we can rearrange things at the house. We can empty out the game room. If we move the pool table and dartboard to the garage, and the video games to the living room, we can move our offices downstairs and the three of us could share office space. The room is big enough so we won't get in each other's way. Then, you can use your office upstairs for your insects and stuff, and Greg can use the spare room however he wants it."

"What about all your toys? You use part of the game room for all that stuff you build," Gil said. He didn't want Nick to lose the one thing he really enjoyed doing.

"Not a problem. You know that empty space next to the patio? I was thinkin' of puttin' in a storage area, because my collection is gettin' too big anyway. I'll just put in some good lighting and an air conditioner, and I'll be all set."

"If that's what you want to do and Greg agrees, then it's fine with me," Gil said with a yawn.

"You really don't mind Greg comin' to live with us for a while? I mean, I know we haven't been together all that long. I don't want anything comin' between us."

Gil kissed the top of Nick's head. "No, I don't mind at all. Nothing will come between us, and we've got the rest of our lives to be alone. Greg needs us. God, Nick, I feel so guilty. I should have made him stay at my townhouse. I never should have let him go home."

"You couldn't force him to stay. It's not your fault, and it isn't Greg's fault. I know that doesn't help you at all, because I feel guilty even though I know I have nothing to feel guilty about."

Gil nodded. "It's human nature. Now, honey, do me a favor and go to sleep, just for a little while."

"Okay," Nick said sleepily, closing his eyes.

As soon as he knew for certain Nick was asleep, Gil nodded off.

A strong shaking woke Gil from sleep. Blinking the bleariness from his eyes, he looked up to see Catherine standing over him. "Catherine, you're here."

"Nice grasp of the obvious, Gil," she said with amusement. She reached over and ruffled Nick's hair. "Hey, Nick, wakey, wakey."

Nick sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's been about two and a half hours since you guys called. I take it there's been no word yet?" Catherine sat down across from Nick.

"No, not yet. It shouldn't be too much longer. He'll probably have to stay in recovery for a little while before they move him," Gil told her. He removed his arm from around Nick's shoulders and stood up to stretch. "Where are Warrick and Sara?"

"They were right behind me. They should be here in a few minutes. We finished up the essentials in the house and boxed up the little evidence there was. It looks like Greg was his only victim since we discovered his other house. I skimmed the first few notebooks, and it looks like he spent these last few months getting his place in order."

"I guess we're lucky he hasn't killed since then," Nick said. "I'd like to know where he got the money for the house and stuff. Did he work anywhere?"

"From what we found, our guy was independently wealthy. We found several thousand dollars in a small safe in the basement, and there was a checkbook that indicated he had over $750,000 in his account. Apparently he's owned this house for some time, in case his other home was discovered. I don't think he lived there, but it's where he kept his personal papers. The receipts we couldn't find? They're at the house. We left most of the stuff at the house, sealed it up, and put a guard on it. Ecklie is going to send out the day shift to finish up the house tomorrow morning. He wants us to go back to our original shifts in a week, with one exception."

"And what's that?" Nick asked. If Ecklie was moving him again, he was going to pitch a fit.

Catherine smiled at him. "Relax, Nick. He's sending Warrick back to nights, and he's having both of the investigators who helped out with day shift added to swing shift."

"Can the department afford it?" Nick asked.

"Let's see, hire two investigators to help take up the slack or have all three shifts pulling doubles and triples continuously, thereby racking up the time and a half all over the place, costing more annually than if they go ahead and hire the two. It's a no-brainer, and the city approved the proposal. It seems that Ecklie's had this in the works for three months. Us finding the serial killer sealed it."

Nick smirked. "Let's see how long that lasts before they're bitching about how much money is being spent by the department. Still, we get Warrick back. Cool, man."

"Hey, guys," Warrick said. "Any word?"

"Not yet," Nick said, clapping Warrick on the back when he sat down next to Nick. "Hey, man, I hear you're back on the night shift."

Warrick smiled at him. "Yeah, man. Ecklie broke the news to me before we left. It's good to be back. I am going to miss Catherine, though."

"Aren't you sweet? A liar, but sweet," Catherine said with a laugh.

Nick looked over at Sara, who had her face in a magazine. "Hey, Sara, you alive over there?"

Sara looked up and gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine." Her eyes went down to the magazine again.

Nick and Gil exchanged knowing looks, but neither of them said anything. "So, do you guys have to go in tonight?"

Warrick shook his head. "Nah. Ecklie told us to come up here and find out about Greg, and then to go home and get some sleep. He's giving us the week to wrap up as much of the serial case as possible. After that, we'll have to do it as time allows. We'll only be called in tonight if those on call get too many cases at once."

"Excuse me, Mr. Stokes?"

Nick's head snapped up to see the doctor they'd spoken to earlier standing nearby. He stood up immediately. "Yes. How is Greg?"

The doctor gave him a reassuring smile. "Greg is fine. He made it through the surgery without a problem. He's in recovery now. We'll be moving him to a private room in a couple of hours, if you want to go get something to eat. You'll be allowed to see him as soon as he's moved into his own room."

Nick reached out and shook the doctor's hand. "Thank you so much."

"You're more than welcome. I'm sorry he had to go through that ordeal. Rest assured we will take good care of him."

Nick nodded and sighed. At the same moment, his stomach growled. Hearing everyone around him laugh, he said, "I think we should follow the doctor's orders and go get something to eat."

Warrick said, "There's a Denny's a few blocks away. We should be back in an hour if we go there."

"Sounds good to me," Nick said as he clapped Warrick on the shoulder. "Let's go. Who's drivin'?"

Catherine smirked. "Not you. Come on, I'll drive."

Nick and Gil quietly entered Greg's room. The others had gone home after breakfast, saying they would come back the next day to see Greg once he was awake.

They stepped up to the bed and looked down at Greg, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He was much cleaner than he'd been, but it only succeeded in showing just how bad the bruising was.

Nick reached out and pushed a limp strand of hair away from Greg's eyes. Gone were the spiky hair and the sly grin of a cocky flirt. All Nick saw was a man who looked years younger than normal, who looked like he could snap in half if someone held him too tightly. What Greg would do or say once he awoke was anyone's guess. "He looks so helpless like this."

Gil nodded. "I know. I remember visiting him after the explosion. He didn't look this fragile even then." Gil guided Nick over to the small sofa in the corner of the room. "Let's sit over here and let him sleep," he whispered. "He'll see us when he wakes up."

Nick sat down and clasped Gil's hand in his as he watched Greg sleep. "I need to call his parents. In all the rush to find him, I completely forgot. Greg's mom is going to kill me."

"You know Greg's parents?"

Nick nodded and looked at Gil. "I met them the last time they came to visit. They're very much like Greg in personality, kind and outgoing. His mother is fiercely protective of Greg, since he's her only boy and the baby of the family."

"Sounds a little like your mother. I didn't know Greg had sisters."

"Two. I don't remember their names. I never met them. I can't even remember the names of Greg's parents. They insisted I call them Mom and Dad," Nick said, chuckling. "They're somethin' else, let me tell you. They're smart, too. When you look at them, you can see where Greg gets his intelligence. I think you'd like them."

"I'm sure I'll have the chance to find out," Gil said. "When are you going to call them?"

"As soon as Greg wakes up. I need to go back to his house and get his address book."

"You don't have to. I remember the number," Greg said from the bed.

Nick and Gil rushed over to the bed. "Hey, G," Nick said, reaching out to touch Greg's hair. It was a reflexive reaction, almost as if he had to keep some sort of physical contact to make sure Greg was really there and not some sort of illusion. "How are you feelin'? Any pain?"

Greg shook his head. "I'm blissfully numb," he said. "I really don't remember getting here. Last thing I remember I was in the house and-"

Seeing Greg's face contort in fear and pain, Nick reached out again, this time to stroke Greg's cheek. "It's okay, Greg. We know. You don't have to say anything. You were pretty out of it when we found you. You faded in and out of consciousness in the ambulance."

"Where is he? Please tell me you caught him. Please tell me he's not still out there," Greg said.

"Shhh," Gil said, grasping Greg's trembling hand. "It's okay, Greg. Mitchell is dead. Brass shot him when he tried to go after you with a knife. He can't hurt you anymore."

Greg's bottom lip trembled as he asked, "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

Gil shook his head. "He's really dead. He won't come back. He can't hurt you or anyone else ever again."

Greg's body lost all its tension and began to shake as he sobbed. He didn't want to cry in front of Gil and Nick, but the harder he tried to stop, the worse it became. He just couldn't believe it was finally over.

Gil was at a loss. He was never any good at giving comfort to anyone, especially someone as emotionally unstable as Greg was at the moment. It didn't seem to matter, since Nick obviously knew what to do.

Nick sat on the edge of the bed near the headboard and carefully slid his arms around Greg's shoulders and pulled him close. "I got you, Greg. Just let it all out. We're gonna take care of you."

Gil pulled a chair up next to the bed and after a minute or two of internal debate, he reached out and grasped the hand Greg had around Nick's waist, hoping that the contact wouldn't be unwelcome. Greg's fingers immediately tightened around his, and Gil relaxed.

It took several minutes before Greg's tears finally slowed and then stopped, only to be replaced by hiccups.

Gil squeezed Greg's hand once and let go. "I'll go tell the nurses you're up and see if I can get you some water," Gil told him. "After the nurses are finished with you, Nick and I want to talk to you about something." Seeing the concern in Greg's eyes, Gil assured him, "It's nothing bad, I promise you."

Greg nodded and buried his face in Nick's side again. He felt like such a baby, needing Nick to stay near, but he couldn't shake the fear that seemed to be ingrained in every cell in his body. It didn't matter that he knew his attacker was dead. The fear was still there, and a part of Greg was afraid it would never go away.

"It's going to take time," Nick said to him. "You have every right to be afraid."

"How did you know what I was thinking? Did you take a mind reading class without me?" he asked, making a feeble attempt to joke.

Nick smiled. At least Greg was attempting to sound like himself. "No, but I know how scared I was and still am. I know he's dead, but I still have moments when I have to look around to make sure he isn't here, ready to take you again. It has to be a thousand times worse for you, but I promise you he can't get you."

"What do I do? How do I get through this?" Greg asked, his voice breaking as fresh tears streaked down his face. "Where do I go? I can't stay at my house anymore, I just can't. I don't want to be alone."

Nick held Greg close. "You don't have to. That's what Gil and I want to talk to you about. We want you to move in with us for as long as you want."

"I can't do that. You just got together. You don't need me there. I'm so messed up, and you guys don't deserve all the crap you'll probably have to put up with."

"Greg, we want you there. You're not going to cause any problems. I don't think you realize how much Gil cares for you. I know he doesn't show it well, but he really is fond of you, and he considers you a friend. Besides, you're my closest friend, and I'm not going to let you go through this alone. Now, we want you there, and I don't want to hear anymore about it."

"Really? Grissom really wants me there?" Greg asked. He really, really liked the idea of staying with them, but he was afraid to hope they really did want him there. He didn't want to cause any rift between the two, especially when it had taken them so long to get together, and their relationship was so new.

"Yes, I want you there," Gil said from the doorway. He came in with a water pitcher and a glass. "The nurse is on her way. And Greg, when we're off the clock, it's Gil." Gil poured a glass of water and handed it to Greg. "Drink some of this. The nurses said you're suffering from mild dehydration."

Greg took the glass and nearly dropped it, his hand was trembling so much. He didn't, though, because Gil reached out to steady it while he drank. After downing half the water, he handed the glass back. "Thanks."

Just then the nurse came in and Nick got up and stepped away so the nurse could look Greg over. While Greg was occupied with being poked and prodded, Nick wrapped one arm around Gil's waist and leaned close to whisper, "Thank you for letting him stay with us. I could tell the prospect of going back to his condo or living alone somewhere else was freaking him out. He's so scared right now."

"I know. I really don't mind. While he's recovering, I think we'll have to set up a schedule to have someone with him at all times. I don't think he'll do well on his own."

"Would you?" Nick asked as he watched the nurse check on the stitches in Greg's legs.

"Probably not. I also know that I wouldn't have enough courage to ask for help. I've been alone for so long that it's not in my nature to request help, even when I need it."

"You're not alone now," Nick said, brushing a quick kiss against Gil's cheek while the nurse and Greg were both occupied. He knew Gil wasn't too keen on the PDAs, and he respected that.

"No, and neither is Greg."

Epilogue

Nick flopped down on the bed and let out a sigh filled with exhaustion. "Well, that's it," he said, turning his head to watch Gil remove his jacket and hang it in the closet. "Greg's all moved in now."

Gil nodded slowly, looking as tired as Nick felt, both mentally and physically. "I hope Greg's condo sells quickly. He doesn't need that hanging over him along with everything else."

As Gil lay down next to him, Nick rolled to his side and slid one arm around Gil's waist. "You think Greg'll sleep any tonight?"

Gil pressed a kiss to Nick's forehead, making him smile. "I hope so. He needs some sleep, and I think the pills will help him, but they won't keep away the nightmares. I did promise him that we'd keep the doors open, so we could hear him if he cries out. I also told him he's welcome to come find us any time he needs or wants the company, no matter when that might be."

"Good. God, I can't imagine what he's been through. I don't blame him for bein' terrified at the thought of bein' alone. I remember how I felt with Nigel Crane stalkin' me, and what Greg's been through is a thousand times worse. I don't think I could be as brave as he is. I never could have set foot inside my home again-hell, I could barely enter my house after what Crane did-but he was so determined to face that place one more time, even though it very nearly broke him."

"I think it helped immensely that we were there. I don't know if he could have done it alone," Gil murmured into Nick's hair, the drowsy tone putting a smile on Nick's face. A drowsy Gil was just too adorable in his opinion. "I'm glad that we've got everything he wanted, though. I don't think I could lift one more box."

"Oh, my poor baby," Nick chuckled. "You want me to give you a back rub?"

"Mm…if you're not too tired," Gil said, cracking one eye open to peer at him, "I'd love one."

Nick sat up and leaned over, pressing his mouth to Gil's in a gentle, lingering kiss. "I'm never too tired to take care of you. Take off your shirt and put on some of those pajama pants you look so cute in, and I'll go get the oil." While Nick preferred Gil naked when he massaged him, Nick was mindful of the fact that the door was open and Greg could come in at any time. Seein' some guy's naked ass was probably the last thing Greg wanted to see at the moment anyway.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I do not do 'cute'?" Gil growled as he pushed himself off the bed and went to rummage through the drawers. Nick laughed and went into the bathroom to pull the massage oil out of the cabinet under the sink.

It didn't take but a few seconds, and Gil was barely unbuttoning his shirt, so Nick decided to check in on the newest addition to their household. He walked down the hallway and looked inside the open doorway. The bathroom light was on inside the room, so Nick could see Greg clearly. Satisfied that Greg seemed to be sleeping peacefully, Nick headed back to his and Gil's room.

A raised eyebrow was all the question Gil needed to give him as he slipped on the sleep pants, and Nick answered, "He's asleep. He doesn't seem to be dreamin', which is a good thing, I guess. Hope it lasts, 'cause he's been lookin' real tired these last few weeks."

Gil stretched out over the comforter and rested his head on his folded arms. "So do I. If he wakes up, he'll let us know. Now, I do believe you said something about a massage?"

The bottle of oil was swept off the table and into his hand as Nick passed by. He strode over to the bed and climbed up to straddle Gil's hips, smiling as Gil groaned. Nick reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the radio remote to put on some of that classical music Gil liked so much, making sure it was low enough that it wouldn't disturb Greg.

No words were needed as Nick popped the cork and drizzled the oil onto Gil's back, smiling as Gil shivered from the cool liquid. He slowly ran his hands through the oil and spread it over Gil's back. Leaning forward slightly, Nick slowly began kneading Gil's shoulders, pressing his palms down into the knotted muscles, massaging in small circles.

"Oh, that feels so good," Gil ground out in a low growl. "Can you work on my neck?"

"Sure, baby," Nick said, leaning over further to place a kiss on the nape of Gil's neck before moving his hands up. His fingers sought out the little knots of tension and rubbed until they gave way and Gil relaxed under him completely. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you're like this?" Nick said softly. No one but Gil would have heard the words, even if they'd been in the same room.

"Not very, I'd imagine, but I'll take your word for it, even if you are biased. Oh, that's gooood," he groaned.

"I don't think so. I thought that long before I managed to catch you, but it doesn't matter, 'cause you're mine and no one else gets to see you this way," Nick murmured as he slid his splayed hands over Gil's shoulders and up his arms. Leaning over to drape his body over Gil's, he took Gil's left earlobe between his teeth and tugged on the tender flesh gently. "I love you."

Gil groaned loudly as Nick's ear nibbling caused his cock to stir. "I want to make love to you."

Nick released a contented sigh. "I want that, too. Let me go get undressed and check on Greg to make sure he's sleepin', and I'll be right back. Get the lube?" Nick nipped at Gil's ear once more before getting up.

"Condom?" Gil asked as he rolled to the other side of the bed and shuffled through the items in the drawer.

"No, I only wanna feel you," Nick said as he stepped into the closet. He was out of his clothes and in a robe in a couple of minutes. "Be right back," he said, his desire flaring when he saw Gil's hand slide down into his pants.

Nick peeked in the door and found Greg still sleeping peacefully. When he got back, he closed the door. "I'll open it up again before we go to sleep," Nick said, unfastening his robe. Dropping it on the floor, Nick crawled up the bed until he was on his hands and knees over Gil. "How do you want me?"

Gil sat up a little more and lifted his hips enough to shove down his pants. "Just like this." He squeezed some lube on his fingers. "Lift up, Nicky, hold onto the headboard."

Nick shifted so he was on his knees, his hands on the headboard and his ass hovering over Gil's erection. He released a contented sigh as Gil brought his fingers to his opening, rubbing them across his hole with a gentle, swirling motion. It was an exquisite torture, and only the promise of more kept Nick from attempting to impale himself on the merciless digits. "Please, please," he gasped in a hoarse whisper. He sounded needy, desperate, to his own ears, but that was okay because he was. He needed the affirmation that there was something good in this world, even when dealing with nothing but the horrible and the bad. Gil was the one truly wonderful thing that had happened in his life, and it was all he needed.

Knowing Nick didn't want to be kept waiting long tonight, Gil slowly slid two fingers in deep to stretch him a little. "God, you're so tight, Nicky."

"Need you," Nick gasped when Gil brushed over his prostate. He abandoned all restraint and started moving, trying to fuck himself on those fingers that were driving him insane. "Gil, enough, now please. Please, more, fuck me!"

Chuckling quietly as Nick babbled, Gil used his other hand to grab the lube and he popped the tube before he slid his fingers out of Nick's body. Ignoring Nick's protests, Gil slathered a generous amount of lube on his hand and coated his erection.

Nick was aware enough not to try to ride Gil's cock dry, but as soon as Gil put his hand on Nick's hip and urged him downward, Nick reached behind him, grasped Gil's cock, and sat down, allowing the thick head to breach his body.

"Slowly, honey, I don't want you hurting yourself," Gil gasped as Nick enveloped him in his tight, hot body. "Oh, fuck, I love how you feel."

"I love how you feel inside me," Nick ground out as he seated himself fully on Gil's cock. Bringing his mouth to Gil's, he nibbled on Gil's bottom lip. He wasn't in any hurry to move; he loved the full feeling he always got when they made love like this, and he'd sit there for an hour if Gil would let him.

"Move, Nicky, please," Gil begged as if on cue, and Nick slowly pushed himself up and slid back down again, waited a few seconds, and then repeated the motion. The unhurried movements were both tormenting and pleasurable all at once, keeping them both hot and striving for completion, but not allowing them to take that final plunge. After keeping the leisurely pace going for several long minutes, Nick tilted his hips just a little and Gil's cock brushed against his prostate.

To Nick, this was what made life worth living, this feeling of love, peace, and completion that he'd only ever found in Gil's arms. When he was here, riding Gil, staring deep into his eyes and hearing Gil speak sweet little declarations he'd never utter at any other time, Nick knew nothing and no one else would ever matter as much to him as Gil did.

Need and desire forced them to move faster, and once Gil's hands wrapped around Nick's cock and started stroking with abandon, it was over and Nick came as he bit his bottom lip to keep himself from crying out and waking Greg. Nick savored the euphoric sensation that spread through his body as he continued riding Gil, until he saw Gil stiffen and his face contort into his "oh God, I'm gonna come!" expression. Nick continued to move until he felt Gil's hips still and his cock start to soften inside him, and then Nick pulled off and rolled to the side, pulling Gil down with him.

After a several minutes of basking in the afterglow, Nick said, "Wow. That was…wow."

Gil opened and closed his mouth several times before finally saying, "Uh-huh."

Chuckling, because it wasn't too often he really managed to fuck Gil's brains right out of his head, Nick pushed himself up and reached for the robe lying on the floor. "I gotta go open the door," he said when Gil looked at him with confusion.

Gil nodded, understanding what Nick was doing, and then closed his eyes. Nick shook his head, finding Gil in this sated state highly amusing, and went into the bathroom for a wet washcloth. He cleaned himself up and then went back into the bedroom to see to Gil.

After he finished Gil's cleanup, he smacked him lightly on the hip. "Pull your pants back up. Greg doesn't need a peek at your privates," Nick said as he rummaged through the drawer for his own pair of pants. He slipped them on and then slid into bed next to Gil.

"Love you," Gil yawned into his ear as he curled up next to Nick.

"Love ya, Peanut," Nick said with a chuckle as he reached over and turned off the lamp. Snuggling down next to Gil, Nick closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, praying Greg would get one peaceful night of sleep, and whatever demons Greg had to deal with would wait until the light of day.

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