Title: Strength
Author: Lament
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Fandom: CSI
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sigh.
Author's Notes: This was written for the geekfiction fic-a-thon over at Live Journal. I wrote it for queen of crazy, who wanted an emotional fic with Nick and Greg.
Summary: Greg has difficulty dealing with the job.

***

Greg snapped open the bedroom door and frowned at the sleeping form on the bed. "Nick," he said. "You need to wake up now." When Nick didn't move, Greg let out a breath and strode over to the bed. He shook Nick's shoulder, until a sleep-tinged pair of brown eyes fluttered open and gazed drowsily at him. With the firmest voice he could muster, Greg said, "Up."

Nick rolled onto his back and muttered something Greg was pretty sure would have offended him if he'd been able to hear it.

"We have to go to work," Greg said, hoping reason would penetrate Nick's sleep-numb brain.

Slowly, Nick swung his legs over the side of the bed and dragged himself into a standing position. He rubbed his eyes viciously, and then trudged toward the bathroom.

Satisfied, Greg wandered back into the living room and lowered himself onto the couch. This was becoming a morning ritual with them. Ever since his kidnapping, Nick had been fighting sleep like a dying warrior. The doctor had given Nick sleeping pills, but stubborn as he was, Nick refused to take them. He'd made progress in the past few weeks, though. He had gradually moved from an absolute refusal to sleep until he literally passed out to a fitful, but voluntary two or three hours a day. Nonetheless, he was exhausted when it was time to wake up.

Greg could understand Nick's reluctance to sleep, though. He really could. For weeks after the explosion in his lab, Greg would bolt awake from dreams of burning plastic and shattering glass. And at the moment, he wasn't sleeping much better than Nick. But who needs sleep, anyway? Since Nick's kidnapping, Greg had been having a recurring nightmare. Every time, it was the same—he would be working in his lab, when he smelled plastic. He would turn to see where the smell was coming from, and the lab would explode. But instead of getting hurt, like he did in reality, Greg would be fine. Then, someone would run in and tell him that Nick is buried under the lab. So Greg would grab a shovel and start to dig like crazy. But he always woke up before he found Nick. A shrink would have a ball with that, Greg imagined.

Greg couldn't blame the whole thing on Nick's kidnapping, though. Even before that, Greg had been having his share of sleepless nights. Before he moved into the field, Greg had never really understood what Nick and the other CSIs went through on a case. He'd always been told that the job could take its toll, that the blood and the gore and the hopelessness could eat at a person's insides. But in his lab, removed from all the darkness, Greg had never really experienced that. Sure, evidence of the crimes had crossed his lab table. But by the time it reached Greg, it had always been bagged and labeled and faceless. Part of Greg missed those days.

The Nevada sun screamed down on Nick, Greg, and David, the coroner with an angry force. Groaning, Greg squatted down next to the side of the road and squinted at a half-empty bottle of Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper that sat next to a tiny cactus. He glanced over his shoulder at Nick and David, who were standing beside the body of their victim, an unidentified, red-haired, freckled-faced boy of about seven or eight. Greg hated working kid cases. He hated them. All the CSIs did, he supposed.

With a gloved hand, Greg scooped up the bottle of soda. "Hey, Nicky," he called. "Found something."

Nick wandered over to Greg and narrowed his eyes at the bottle. "Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper?" He shook his head. "What's next? Low-Carb Kiwi 7-Up?"

David glanced up. "That sounds good, actually," he said.

Nick grinned. "Well, SuperDave, I'll let you know if I see any."

Flashing a thin smile, David stood up. "We're done, Nick. I'm going to bag him, and we'll take him back to the morgue."

Nodding, Nick said, "Thanks, David. We'll be along in a little while."

"Take your time," David said. "We've got a full house."

As he watched as the freckled-faced little boy disappear into a body bag, Greg bit his lip and willed himself not to get sick to his stomach. Nick was standing right next to him, and Greg didn't want to get throw up in front of Nick. It was Greg's strength that Nick needed these days, not his weakness.

After the nausea passed over him, Greg bent over to get a better look at a piece of dust-covered glass.

"You know," Nick said. "I never fully appreciated the advantages of having you in the field before."

Greg stood up and turned to Nick. "Hmm?"

Nick flashed a guilty grin. "The lab coat covered up the good parts."

"Wait. You were checking out my—"

Nick held up his hand. "Hey, how could I not look? You gave me a very nice view."

Taking a step toward Nick, Greg shook his head and asked, "How can you flirt with me at crime scene?"

Nick shrugged. "Maybe I have a kink for CSI vests."

"I'm serious, Nick."

"So am I," Nick grinned. Then he gazed at Greg for a moment. "You okay, G?"

"Yeah," Greg said, turning back to the glass. "I'm fine."

Nick held open a bag so Greg could deposit the glass. "You know, G," he said. "I know this is our first real case together since you got into the field. But you can loosen up a little bit. You're a good CSI, and I know that."

Greg scowled. "Just because I don't get turned on at a crime scene doesn't mean I need to loosen up."

Raising his eyebrows, Nick said, "Look, G. This job is a little easier to stomach if you keep your sense of humor. You know," he said. "I kinda miss the guy who used to dance in a headdress or flirt with me at work, the guy wore loud shirts and played air guitar, the guy who tried to drag me into the broom closet." He smiled. "I miss the goofy."

Greg felt himself relax a little. "The closet thing wasn't goofy," he said. "It was horny."

Nick licked his lips and smiled. "My mistake. All I'm saying is I don't want you to lose your sense of humor. It's one of my favorite things about you."

"Well," Greg said, cocking his head at Nick. "I could put a 'kick me' sign on Hodges back if you want."

"That's my Greggo."

Greg leaned against his locker and closed his eyes, trying to block out the face of Brandon Cooper, the seven-year-old boy he and Nick had found in the desert that night. When Brandon's mother showed up, Nick had ushered Greg out of the room, with the excuse that he needed Greg to check with DNA.

As it turned out, the DNA on the bottle was a match to Kyle Norton, Brandon's stepfather. According the kid's mother, Norton had taken Brandon to school the previous morning. Greg and Nick were waiting to have a chat with Mr. Norton about that.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Greg had been thankful Nick had given him an out during the meeting with the boy's mother. Greg knew he was supposed to remain detached from his cases, but it was getting harder and harder all the time. It was becoming nearly impossible to file away all the Tara Matthews and the Dani Stewarts and the Devon Maltons and the Brandon Coopers into neat little categories he could let go at the end of the day.

As Greg leaned heavily against cool surface of the locker, Nick poked his head into the room. "Hey, G," he said. "Brandon's stepdad is here. Let's go."

Greg nodded. "Yeah, okay. Okay."

Cocking his head, Nick walked up to Greg and put a hand on his shoulder. "You can always sit this out if you want, G."

"No," Greg said, standing up straight. "I'm there."

Kyle Norton sat across from Nick and Greg. He was an average looking guy—a little disheveled maybe, but average. Greg hoped Nick would do the talking today. Greg still wasn't used to questioning the suspects, and this time, he honestly didn't trust himself not to get emotional.

Nick slumped comfortably back in his chair and regarded Norton. "So," he said, his Texas accent a bit thicker than usual. "Tell me again what happened the last time you saw Brandon."

Cooper licked his lips and squirmed in his seat. "Well, I dropped him off at school, like I told you. He was fine when I left him there, sir."

Leaning forward, Nick said, "You sure?"

Norton frowned, as if he was honestly considering the question. After almost a minute, he said, "Yeah, I'm sure."

Nodding, Nick glanced at Greg, and then back at Norton. "So you didn't notice when your stepson didn't come home from school? And when he wasn't there for tuck him into bed?"

"Oh." Norton crossed his arms. "Well, I was at work."

"All day and night?" Nick let out a breath. Placing the bagged bottle onto the table, he said, "Mr. Norton, we found this bottle near Brandon's body. It has your DNA on it. Now, here's what we think happened. We think you dropped this when you dumped Brandon's body."

Norton gazed at the bottle for a moment, and then flashed an embarrassed half-smiled, as if he'd been caught with shirt buttoned incorrectly. "I was wondering where I left it," he said. "I guess sat it down and forgot it."

After he and Nick left the interrogation room, Greg took off walking down the hall, stopped suddenly, and then smacked the wall with the ball of his hand. "I can't believe he was so flippant about it," Greg said. "The least he could have done was show some guilt. The guy acted like Brandon was just a toy he accidentally broke."

"I know," Nick said, patting Greg on the arm. "But G, some people are like that. I mean, we're talking about a man who killed a child." Nick leaned against the wall next to Greg. "At least we got a confession. That genius made our job easy."

"Easy?" Greg snapped. "This job isn't easy."

"You all right, Greg?"

"How many times are you going to ask me if I'm okay?"

"Until I get the truth," Nick said. "Greg, man, we i solved /i the case. Slam dunk. We barely broke a sweat."

Greg's shoulders slumped. Swallowing, he said, "I don't know i what /i to feel, Nick. All right?"

Nick nodded. "That's normal, G. Sometimes, it takes a while to process this stuff."

Greg shook his head. "But it's…frustrating. We caught Brandon's killer, yeah. But it happened so fast. It felt like it should've taken longer. Does that make sense?"

"You wanted to do more."

"Yeah," Greg said. "Nick, Brandon's whole life was over in, like, seven years. And his death… I feel like we didn't i do /i anything." Greg closed his eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't think about it so much."

"G, the frustration is normal. Believe me."

Greg opened his eyes and bit his bottom lip. "When I was in the lab?"

"Uh huh?"

"I felt like I was in a cage. I wanted to get into the field so bad. I thought I could do something to help. But now, I feel like I don't know why I'm doing this. I mean, what difference do we make? We're a glorified clean-up crew."

Nick gazed at him for a while. "No we're not," he said. Letting out a long, tired breath, he said, "G, I almost quit this job once."

Greg stared at Nick. "When?"

Clearing his throat, Nick folded his arms across his chest. "I was a Level One," he said. "Like you. And I'd just worked this case with Grissom. Five-year-old kid named Tommy Rivers. I still remember what he looked like. It took a while, but we caught the guy who killed him. It was a freak who grabbed him off a playground. Now, I was angry, because we couldn't save the kid. But you know what? We saved the other kids that lunatic might've grabbed. And we gave Tommy's mom some closure. That's why we do this. We do it so it doesn't happen again and so the people left behind can start letting it go."

"But what if we can't let it go?" Greg asked, his voice breaking. "I mean, I know I'm not supposed to care this damn much, but I can't—"

Nick shook his head. "No way. Listen, G. I know you've worked a lot with Grissom, and I've learned a lot from him. But I want to tell you something." He placed a hand on each of Greg's shoulders. "Giving a damn isn't a bad thing. It's okay to care."

Greg ran a hand through his hair. "But the more I care, the more it hurts."

"I know," Nick said. "And you know what, Greggo? It's okay to hurt, too." Nodding to a passing lab tech, Nick lowered his voice. "The past few months with me can't have been easy for you."

"No," Greg said. "It's been good, Nick."

Nick smiled. "What I'm trying to say is that you don't have to be strong all the time for my sake. You can share this kind of stuff with me."

Greg let out a dry laugh. "I'm trying to be a pillar of strength, dammit."

Grinning, Nick cuffed Greg on the jaw. "And you've done a stellar job, G. But you know what? Why don't we do this? Why don't we be strong for each other? Cool?"

Greg nodded. "Cool."

"So," Nick asked after a moment. "What about that 'kick me' sign for Hodges' back?"

Smirking, Greg said, "Let's go find some markers."

***