Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
by Buffyangel68
When the anticipated knock on the door finally sounded, Greg suddenly reached out and grasped Nick's near hand tightly.
"Hey... you're shakin. What's up, bud?"
"Nerves. Writing and sending... pictures isn't like... meeting each other. Blair's done so much... gone everywhere. He's a teacher and... he works with the cops."
"And you're just a lab tech, is that it?"
"Sometime that's... how it feels."
Nick touched Greg's chin lightly and made the younger man meet his eyes.
"C'mon now. You know better than that. In the lab you take second place to nobody, Greggo. You don't have a single reason to be ashamed of who you are an' what you've accomplished. Understand?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Nick replied firmly, pulling away and heading for the door. "Besides, your cousin ain't here to get in a competition over whose life turned out better. He flew down here to make sure you were okay."
"I know..."
"Then I can let 'em in?"
"Go ahead. I'm gonna go..."
"I know. Find a safe corner. Lemme know when you're ready."
Greg moved into the kitchen and stood where he couldn't see the door or the sunlight that would shine in when it was opened. Nick waited until the other man was settled before opening the door and greeting their guests.
"Hi. Nick Stokes. C'mon in guys."
"Thanks. I'm Blair Sandburg and this is my partner."
"Jim Ellison." The taller of the two stated quietly, offering no further information. Nick studied him for a moment, but figured the man would speak further when and if he was ready.
"Nice to meet you both." He responded, closing the door and locking it. "You're safe, Greg. The door's secure."
Slowly, Greg emerged from his refuge and stepped out into the room to meet the newcomers. It was a few moments before Blair truly recognized his younger relative, but when he did his face was transformed with excitement.
"Greg? Oh man, it is so good to finally meet you!" Blair enthused, reaching out to enfold the other in a hug. When Greg stepped back, fear shining in his eyes, Blair sobered and held his ground. "I'm so sorry. I let my emotions get ahead of my memory sometimes..."
"It's okay."
Jim, who had been hanging back slightly, now stepped up beside his lover, his expression intent and focused. His instincts and experience with assault cases had instantly acknowledged what had caused Greg's voice to sound so harsh and his eyes moved from Greg's face to his throat and the fading bruises.
"Are those from the attack?" he asked, looking back up. Greg felt locked into his gaze, utterly compelled by his unyielding stare, and he told Jim, if not the entire truth, at least the bare bones of it.
"The second one."
"Second?! You were assaulted more than once? Why didn't you tell me when you e-mailed?" Blair scolded. Unconsciously, Nick heard something in the tone he didn't like and he stepped between Blair and Greg, glaring down at the stranger and softly voicing his own admonishment.
"Don't yell at him."
Gazing up at Stokes' sudden, predatory grin, Blair was certain, for a brief moment, that all of Nick's teeth came to a point. The younger man stared, unblinking, for several seconds then backed away one step.
"I'm sorry. Like I said on the phone, I can be impulsive. I lead with my emotions, especially when my family's been hurt."
"I understand. I'm kinda doin' the same thing right now. Any threat, even if it's only perceived, an' my guard dog instincts take over." Nick apologized, his breathing slowing down and his expression relaxing. When he felt Greg touch his shoulder, Nick slid aside and let Greg step up so he could address Blair's concern.
"I didn't tell you... because I knew you'd... react the way you... just did. You worry... too much."
"And you have a talent for getting yourself trampled and blown up and downplaying it to a scraped knee..."
Sensing the argument could last a while, Nick escaped to the kitchen to fix snacks. Jim followed after a few seconds hesitation. Once in the kitchen, he turned and leaned back against the counter, continuing to watch Blair and Greg as they shifted their argument to the sofa.
"Can I help with anything?" he asked, never really changing the direction of his gaze.
"Nah. I'm just throwin' together some crackers an' stuff. You're free to grab what you want to drink from the fridge, though."
"Thanks." Jim responded vaguely. A minute or two later, he changed the subject to the pair he was studying "How'd we ever get hooked up with these two, huh?" he asked, his tone lightly amused.
"Don't read that much into me bein' here. Right now he needs me for support."
"And you need to be around him, even if it's strictly platonic."
Nick flushed slightly and turned away to search a cabinet for an item that he didn't really need.
"Somethin' like that. We're walkin in the right direction... but we've both got a couple hundred miles yet to go before we're anywhere close to ' hooked up' ."
"Maybe he does... but you're already there."
Nick turned back and gazed curiously at Jim.
"What makes you say that, man?"
"I know the signs. The first time I saw Blair, I was head first over Niagara Falls... without a barrel or a paddle. I couldn't admit it to myself, though. I couldn't even consider how I felt until the day another cop started ragging on the kid. I stepped in between 'em and threw the other guy a soft warning and a big "I'll kill you if you blink" smile... just like you did. When Blair went off on Greg your instinct to protect him was automatic. You didn't think about it, not for a second. Maybe he's walkin', and that's as it should be after what he's been through, but you... you're on a Harley doing seventy."
Nick shook his head and went back to arranging crackers on a plate.
"Of course I protected him. He's been ripped limb from limb emotionally. What else was I supposed to do?"
Jim chuckled, shifted his weight away from the edge of the counter and moved toward the fridge.
"Uh-huh."
"What?"
"It's just funny how much of us I can see in you two." Jim told him, grabbing a beer and a bottle of juice. "We danced around each other at first... we had issues from our pasts to slog through, hurts we had to let go of. If you want it to work, you'll do whatever you have to. Trust me... love like Blair and I have found is worth anything and everything." He admitted as the refrigerator door swung closed and he moved toward the living room. When Nick spoke up, Jim paused and turned back to face him.
"Would you... could you go so far as to... talk things out with somebody?"
"Like a counselor? A few times. I was dead set against it, but Blair finally convinced me it'd be good for me... make the two of us stronger and make me a better cop. He was right."
"Greg... he's not dealin' so good with the fallout from the rape. He wouldn't agree to get help until I promised I'd do it too."
"And your issues are major league?"
"About as major as issues get."
"You remember that old joke about the guy sitting on the roof of his house in the middle of a flood?"
"I think so. Four boats and a helicopter come by and he keeps sayin' no, that God will save him. He drowns and gets up to heaven an' asks God what happened. God says ' I sent four boats and a helicopter. What more do you want?' "
"Blair taught me that's more than a joke, it's a metaphor. No matter how close we are to drowning in our own personal flood, no matter how much we feel like our old ways and our pride will pull us through one more time... we have to hang onto enough humility to recognize and accept rescue when it's offered. If you love Greg like I think you do...you'll keep that promise. It won't do any good if he finally makes it to a place where he's ready to commit and you're stuck on the side of the road fifty miles back."
"Outta gas and wonderin' why the hell I passed up all those fillin' stations." Nick replied, grinning.
"You got it. Need a hand with the food?"
"I can get it."
Nick picked up the two plates and one bowl he'd filled with munchies and joined the other three in the living room, completely revising what he'd intended to tell his therapist friend when he called her.
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GRISSOM'S CONDO:
Gil sat stretched out on his bed, propped against the headboard and alternately doodling on a notepad and re-reading notes on a recently closed case in preparation for preliminary hearings. When the phone receiver tucked between his shoulder and ear finally began to speak to him, instead of playing banal instrumental versions of classic rock, he brightened and focused all his attention on the call.
"Yes, Dr. Marina Wasserman in otolaryngology, please. Hi, Marina, it's Gil. My hearing is fine. No deterioration at all. Actually... I'm calling because I need a referral and I trust your discretion. Urology. No... I mean, I hope nothing's wrong. I haven't had any troubling symptoms... Marina... yes, that is the reason, but... Why are you so excited? No, I haven't approached the other person yet, this is just a first step... Marina. You're my doctor and a friend... but I don't have to answer that. Marina! The referral? Thank you." he sighed, noting down the name and number on his pad. "I'll make my own appointment. No I will not call the morning after and tell you how it went! Good-bye, Marina." he said with finality, hanging up and dialing the number he'd written. "Good afternoon. My name is Gil Grissom. I'd like to make an appointment for a full work up. Yes, absolutely. That... that should be included." he stuttered, grateful that he was blushing in privacy. "When? That's fine. I'll be there. Thank you."
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TBC.....
