Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
Author: geekwriter
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: FRT-13
Category: angst, drama
Spoilers/Warnings: none
Summary: Nobody's to blame for the way things ended.
A/N: I meant to write fluff, but about three sentences into this it
became clear to me that this just wasn't going to be fluff. I don't
know what's up with the angst�maybe I need to up my dosage or
something. Either that, or SidheWolf's been rubbing off on me. <g>
Apologies to Jason Mraz for the title.
-----------------
Greg rubbed his eyes, slapped his cheek a few times, jumped up and
down in place. It didn't help, not really, but it was enough to get
him moving and into the parking lot. He dropped his keys twice on his
way to his car tripped over something that wasn't there, and by the
time he reached his silver Jetta he had to lean against it and catch
his breath.
"You all right there, G?"
Greg clenched his teeth and forced himself to stand up straight. "Fine."
Nick looked dubious.
"I'm good," Greg said. He dropped his keys again, leaned down to pick
them up, and ended up sitting on the pavement, his legs sprawled in
front of him.
"First quadruple, right?" Nick asked softly as he knelt down next to Greg.
Greg yawned and shook his head. "No, just�you know, in the lab I
could catch a nap here and there. Stretch out on the couch for
fifteen minutes while the thermal cycler's running. Now it's
just�what day is it?"
"The nineteenth."
"I've been up for five days."
"Yeah," Nick said, picking Greg's keys up off the pavement. "You're
not driving."
"I'm all right."
"Hey, driving while sleep deprived is just as dangerous as driving drunk."
Greg would have asked Nick to state his source, but he was too tired
to find the words. He just nodded and leaned his head back against
the Jetta, closed his eyes. It hurt. It actually hurt to stay upright.
"Come on. I'll drive you home."
"Mmff."
Nick smiled and took Greg by the arms, pulled him to his feet. "Are
you back on tonight?"
"Tomorrow. I�I think, I�what day is it?"
"The nineteenth."
"Mmm," Greg said. "Been awake a long time. Five? Four�five days?"
Nick shook his head as he steered Greg towards his truck. There was
no way Greg could drive as tired as he was. He loaded Greg into the
passenger seat and walked around to get behind the wheel. "Where am I
headed?" he asked as he started the truck.
Nick looked over at Greg and smiled wryly. Greg was slumped against
the passenger seat, his eyes closed, his mouth open as he snored softly.
**********
Greg scratched the back of his neck as he walked into his kitchen.
His fingers grazed over the scar there and as they touched the skin it
was suddenly raw and when he jerked his hand away his fingers were
covered in blood and charred flesh. He pushed himself up off the
floor of the lab, shards of glass sticking into his palms as he did so.
"Sara?" he called as he moved towards her motionless body. "Sara?"
He reached down to touch her, pushed her shoulder to roll her over and
recoiled when he saw her blue, lifeless face, saw that her eyes were
missing.
It happened all the time, he knew that. Fish ate their eyes.
Floaters never had their eyes anymore. He pushed forward, moved
against the current of the river, forcing his legs to move, forcing
himself against the current to the other side of the river. His crime
scene kit was on the river bank and he knelt next to it and pulled on
his gloves, stuffed a collection bag in his back pocket, and started
into the woods. He could hear the scent dogs ahead of him, knew he
was on the right track. He ran after them, following their baying.
He could see the flashlights of searchers ahead of him but he couldn't
catch up. He kept running, tripping over branches and slipping on wet
leaves.
And then, suddenly, he caught up and entered the clearing where a
bloodhound was pawing at the ground. He picked up the shovel and
started digging and, Jesus, was that a face? That was a face staring
up at him out of the ground, a tiny little face with blank eyes, milky
white, clouded over. He dropped to his knees and started digging with
his hands, clawing at the ground until the little girl's body was
uncovered, her blonde hair matted with blood. He cradled her naked,
violated body in his arms as he lifted her, laid her gently on a
blanket. He turned and saw a skinny, pale arm, started digging again,
his fingers sinking into the soft black earth. He pulled the baby boy
out of the earth, smoothed his hair, laid him on the blanket next to
the girl and tried not to notice the way the boy's broken neck made
his head loll to the side. He continued to dig, frantic, pulling
babies and children out of the dirt, tens of them, hundreds of them,
thousands it seemed. He couldn't stop digging, there were more, he
knew it, and he had to find them all. He couldn't just leave them
there, couldn't just leave their tiny bodies to rot there where no one
would ever know. Had to keep digging even though his gloves had
snapped, had to keep digging even though his fingers were bloody, had
to keep digging because he could hear them. They were laughing, they
were alive--they were alive and he had to get to them, had to get them
out in time before they died, before they suffocated in the dirt
buried alive. He clawed at the ground, fingers bleeding, fingernails
breaking, could see the form of a body, could see it, almost had it,
clawed at the dirt pulling it away in clumps, got to the body and
turned it, brushed dirt off its face and�
**********
Nick turned his head as Greg cried out and sat upright on the couch
suddenly, shaking and sweating. "Nightmare?" he asked softly.
Greg looked around frantically, his breath coming quickly as his
fingers clenched the blanket in his hands. It took him a moment, took
him a while to figure out where he was. He looked at Nick for a long
time and Nick could read the confusion and fear in his eyes.
"Why am I on your couch?" he asked finally.
Nick smiled softly and folded his newspaper back up, set it on the
coffee table. "Because you passed out in my truck and I don't know
where your new apartment is."
"Oh," Greg said. "Why'd I pass out in your truck?"
"Because you'd been up for five days."
"Oh." Greg rubbed his hands over his face. "Right. Jesus."
"You worked the triple homicide, didn't you?" Nick asked. "The kids?"
Greg nodded. "Yeah. It was the mom."
"I heard."
"Slashed their throats. The six year old went last, saw what she'd
done to the others and fought her. There was skin under his
fingernails, his mother's skin. He fought her, knew she wanted to
kill him." He closed his eyes. "What time is it?"
"A little after one."
"It feels like I've been asleep for days."
"You have."
Greg looked up at him sharply.
"Well, about 30 hours, anyway." Nick stood up. "You want coffee?"
Greg nodded as he settled back into the couch, pulling the blanket
around him. "None of that instant shit you drink," he called as Nick
walked towards the kitchen.
Nick returned with two cups of coffee. "I don't drink instant
anymore," he said, handing Greg one of the mugs.
Greg wrapped his hands around the warm ceramic and held the mug to his
face, breathing in deeply before taking a sip. "Blue Hawaiian?"
Nick shrugged and looked down at his own mug. "Hard habit to break."
Greg nodded. "Yeah."
They drank their coffee in silence until Nick asked, "The explosion?"
"Hmm?"
"Your nightmare. Was it about the lab explosion?"
Greg nodded. "Started out that way."
"And then?"
Greg shrugged.
"I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me. Asking about it's a hard
habit to break, too, I guess."
"I was digging the bodies of children out of the earth," Greg said.
"Hundreds of them. Finally, I got to the last body and it was an
adult. A man. It was�" He sighed and shook his head. "It's stupid."
"Was it you?"
"How'd you know that?"
"Because you're hardly the first CSI to dream about finding your own
body," Nick said softly. "And you won't be the last."
"The weird part is that I wasn't horrified. I mean, I felt bad, but
digging them out felt�normal. I was anxious to get them out, but I
wasn't scared until I saw my own face."
"That's not weird. I dream about dead bodies all the time."
"You do?"
Nick nodded.
"You never told me that before."
"It's not a big deal. They aren't nightmares. It's just work
bleeding into your subconscious."
"Doesn't that scare you? Being OK with it?"
"I didn't say I was OK with it. I'm not. Nobody's OK with everything
we see, Greg, not Cath or Grissom or even Ecklie. But you just�you
learn to tuck it away so you can do your job."
"It scares me. I feel like I'm going to stop caring."
Nick shook his head. "You won't. I promise." He sighed. "Look, G�"
Greg set his mug down on the table quickly. "Christ, I have to piss."
Nick forced a grin. "Well, you have been asleep for a day."
Greg stretched as he stood up, rubbed his stomach as he headed towards
the bathroom.
Nick grabbed the newspaper off the coffee table and stood up to drop
it into the recycling, then leaned down and retrieved the Arts &
Leisure section, set it on his small kitchen table.
Nick had just finished topping off Greg's coffee when Greg ambled into
the kitchen and eyed the box of sugary cereal Nick had set on the table.
"This has got to be stale," he said as he picked it up and started
looking for an expiration date.
"I just got it this morning at the store," Nick said as he set Greg's
mug on the table. "Figured you'd be hungry when you woke up."
Greg grinned, then and Nick's heart clenched as he realized how long
it had been since he'd seen Greg smile like that.
"Right on," Greg said, heading towards the cupboards and searching
through them.
"It's back down below," Nick said, tapping the cupboards beneath the
counter.
Greg squatted down and found the bowl that he ate his cereal out of
and that Nick used as a mixing bowl. He sighed when he saw the milk
Nick set on the table next to the cereal.
"Sorry, G," Nick said. "I just can't buy 2%."
"1% wouldn't kill you," Greg grumbled, but he was smiling.
"It might."
Greg fished a tablespoon out of the silverware drawer and sat down at
the kitchen table, pouring himself a huge bowl of cereal and dousing
it in skim milk.
Nick poured himself a small bowl of healthy cereal and sat across from
Greg at the table. He concentrated on eating slowly, on chewing and
swallowing. He concentrated on not watching Greg as he shoveled huge
spoonfuls into his mouth absentmindedly and flipped through the Arts &
Leisure section, reading the comics first, then browsing the concert
listings.
He tried not to pretend that everything was back to normal. He tried
not to let himself imagine that he and Greg were just having breakfast
in their kitchen the way they had so many times before.
"I miss you," Nick whispered before he could stop himself.
Greg nodded and stared down at the bits of cereal in his bowl floating
in an inch of purple milk. "I should go," he said softly.
"Don't you think we should talk about it?" Nick asked.
Greg pushed his chair back and stood up. "There's nothing to talk about."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry you cheated on me or sorry you got caught?"
Nick ran one hand over his buzzed hair. "It didn't mean anything."
Greg nodded. "Yeah. I figured that out."
"Jesus, Greg," Nick said, getting up and staring after him. "I don't
mean us. I mean that�with him�it's the stupidest thing I've ever done
in my life and if I could take it back I would. You have no idea how
much I wish I could take it back."
Greg sat down on the edge of Nick's couch and reached for his shoes.
"I do, actually," he said softly. He looked up at Nick and offered a
sad smile. "I'm sorry. I know you didn't mean to hurt me." He
shrugged. "We'd already come undone. It wasn't your fault." He
pulled his laces tight and stood up. "I'll see you at work."
"Greg," Nick said as Greg started towards the door.
Greg turned and gazed at Nick for a long moment. He reached up and
touched Nick's cheek. "It's OK," he whispered. "Really."
"I'm so sorry."
Greg nodded and leaned to press a gentle kiss to Nick's forehead. "I
know. Don't beat yourself up. You're not the bad guy. You never were."
Nick covered Greg's hand with his own. "If I could just�if I could
take it back, if I could change things�"
"Look at me," Greg whispered.
Nick forced himself to look into Greg's liquid brown eyes.
"We were over long before anything that happened with Aaron. That was
just�" He sighed and brushed a tear off Nick's cheek. "Neither one
of us wanted to admit it, that's all."
Nick nodded. He knew Greg was right, knew they'd had more than their
share of problems, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what
they'd been.
"I'll see you tonight," Greg said as he pulled away.
"Let me drive you back to the lab."
"I can take the bus."
"Greg, come on, it wouldn't be any trouble for me to drive you back to
your car."
Greg opened his mouth, then bit back whatever it was that he was going
to say. He smiled as he opened the front door. "I like the bus.
Good people watching." He laughed as he walked outside. "Last time I
saw a guy that I'm pretty sure was a Latvian spy."
Nick grinned. "They have Latvian spies?"
"Of course."
"And they ride public transportation?"
"They're stealthy that way," Greg said, stuffing his hands in his
pockets as he walked backwards up Nick's front walk. "Later," he said
before he turned.
He watched Greg round the corner out of sight and sighed before he
stepped back and let the front door close. "Yeah," he said to no one,
"later."