Chasing Secrets

Requested by BlaineandKurt

AUTHOR: Lolly4Holly

PAIRINGS: Nick/Greg Slash with M-Preg

WARNINGS: Adult Content. M-Preg. Angst. M/M slash. Violence. Drugs. Sex. Alcohol. The usual CSI Stuff. If you don't like, don't read.

SUMMARY: Even before his abduction and forced imprisonment six feet under, Nick Stokes felt as though his life was spiralling out of control. Now that he's back in the real world, things seem oddly worse. His rollercoaster ride of a life has had its ups and downs in the past, but the rails ahead of him have become so bumpy, he's afraid that he might derail and lose everything.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi guys, this story was requested by BlaineandKurt. This is a Nick and Greg slash/m-preg set around 'Grave Danger' finale episode of Season 5, alternate universe as some events have been altered slightly to fit around the time line provided. Greg left the lab sometime during Season 1 for a career as a field CSI. Contains episodes from CSI: Las Vegas series, starting with Season 5. Also includes a few flashbacks written in Italic so you can tell the difference between the past and the present.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy it. Please remember to leave me a review if you did and a shout out to BlaineandKurt for requesting it. I hope I did it justice!

~ Holly


Prologue

"It was Christmas in Las Vegas, when the locals take the town. Theresa hit a streak, and laid her waitress apron down. She was playin' penny poker..." Shutting off the engine to his truck, Nick glanced around the empty parking lot he had been called out to, wondering what kind of mysteries lay ahead. He grabbed his kit off the passenger seat, waving to the officer as he climbed out.

"Hey. Nick Stokes, crime lab." He nodded to the man, showing the man his ID badge.

Over the years he had gotten to know quite a few of the deputies on the graveyard shift, but he didn't recognise this guy at all, so he was either new or just transferred from another shift. He'd wager new, since he looked about fifteen, reminding him a lot of Greg when he first joined the lab.

"Hi. I'm Dale." The deputy gave him a nod of approval to approach.

"So, what have we got?" Nick asked, eager to get stuck in. He hated trash runs, but it was the only thing going at the moment. He knew it would probably end with Catherine taking him off the case to put him on something of more importance, but he wasn't about to turn it down.

"It's... over here." The deputy looked a little queasy, walking with the CSI over to their scene. He held his hand over his mouth, pointing the light of his flashlight towards the bloody puddle on the ground. "We got called out to an anonymous 9-1-1 caller reported body parts in the area. Didn't leave a name and they used a prepaid phone, so there's no trace. I rolled up to the scene and found... this. Don't know what it is... but it looks like body parts, so we called you guys." He wasn't quite sure what he was looking at, so he really didn't want to name it.

"Hm... tasty." The Texan smirked, setting his kit down. He popped it open, grabbing his camera first. He already checked it before he left the lab, but he made one final check for the memory card and settings, before he started snapping a few pictures of the scene.

"So... Mr Stokes, have you... do you know how long it's going to take for you to get this stuff out of here?" He tried to avoid throwing up by turning himself away from the parts that lay on the ground beneath them.

"Well... I can't move the... you know, the 'body' until the coroner releases the scene. It's a busy night, lots of cases... probably gonna take a while." Nick snapped another photo, wondering what exactly it was. It looked a lot like guts, but it looked too small to be human.

"Okay... great." The deputy nodded, taking another step back. "Hey... you mind if I step away for a sec? I really..." He fought the urge to hurl, covering his hand over his mouth again. "I need some fresh air."

"Oh... yeah, sure." Nick tried to suppress his smile. "Take your time, man. I'm good." He watched the man practically sprinting back to his car, smirking to himself as he turned back to his scene.

"We scrutinize the crime scene, collect the evidence and recreate what happened, without ever having been there." He heard his supervisor's voice ringing through his head. He always remembered random quotes from the older man when he was bored and all alone out in the middle of nowhere.

Dropping an evidence marker into place, Nick pursed his lips together, examining the cigarette butt in from of him a moment, before he raised his camera to eye level. He snapped a few pictures, glancing over his shoulder briefly to check on the young officer retching in the corner. He couldn't have been that old. Fresh out of the academy, Nick guessed. His uniform was a little on the big side for him. He still had pimples covering his fresh young face and he couldn't see any sign of the tell tale dark circles beneath his eyes, that told him he hadn't been doing this job for very long.

Snapping another photo, Nick straightened up from the floor, remembering he had some gum in his pocket. He let his camera fall against his chest, feeling the tug of the strap against his neck as he dug it out. "Hey," He called out to the young lad behind him. "You want some gum?"

Deputy Dale shook his head, waving in the other man's direction. "No, thank you." He ducked into the alleyway again, hurling up what was left of his lunch. He really regretted eating that burrito now. He enjoyed it the first time around, but he knew he was going to regret it later anyway, especially with his sensitive stomach.

Nick popped a piece of gum into his mouth, slotting the packet back into his jeans. He returned to his kit for some more evidence markers, noticing something out the corner of his eye. He had seen the bright red fire hydrant on his way in, but he didn't see the bag sat beside it. He made his way over to it, knitting his brow together as he found a Styrofoam cup sat inside an evidence bag. To be sure, he pulled out his flashlight, taking a closer look.

It certainly wasn't one of his or any of his teams. It didn't make any sense though, what was it doing here?

"Well... that's peculiar." He spoke to himself, pulling a glove onto his hand. He picked the bag up by the corner to take a closer look, even more confused as the cup didn't seem to relevant to his crime scene at all.

Before he could turn around to ask the deputy about it, a hand clasped firmly over his mouth from behind him. He tried to struggle, but they were holding a cloth that had a familiar scent to it. He knew what it was, he just couldn't think of it right now. The more he tried to fight it, the more drowsy he started to feel. He just had to hold them off long enough for the deputy to turn around. Then it hit him, he knew what it was and why he felt so sleepy.

Chloroform...

When he came to, Nick found himself bound in a small space. He had never been overly keen on small spaces, but there was just enough room to stretch out his legs. He saw a flickering light coming from somewhere, trying to roll himself over to see what it was. His wrists were bound by something tight, itchy and uncomfortable. His legs were free, so he used them to roll himself over, just as the object he was in jolted to a halt.

He was in the back of a vehicle and his assailant had just stopped.

Nick quickly searched around for a weapon. A tire iron maybe, something heavy, anything at all. He saw bright red lights peaking through from somewhere. The seats were too far away and the ground beneath him was lined with plastic. He tried not to think about all the crime scenes he had processed that looked like this and tried to focus on his escape, but he didn't have anything to defend himself with.

Hearing footsteps outside the vehicle, Nick decided to use the only weapon he had.

His foot.

Raising his legs ready to kick off, Nick waited for the door in front of him to open. He gulped softly, feeling goose bumps shivering down his spine as he continued to wait. How long were they going to make him sweat like this? What were they doing out there? Where had they even taken him?

Suddenly, a gloved hand appeared behind him.

Damn, they had opened the other door.

He struggled, pushing himself off the ground with his hands, fighting against the cloth they had once again clamped over his nose and mouth. He wriggled, squirmed, attempted to hold his breath.

But the Chloroform won again.

Starting to stir again, Nick felt his wrists being cut free. He let them fall to his sides, keeping his eyes tightly closed as a bright light appeared above him. He heard a noise beside him. It sounded like metal being placed against something. Another noise the other side of him, but he still couldn't open his eyes. He heard what sounded like a door closing, followed by something that sounded like heavy rain. He briefly managed to open his eyes, just as the light above him was filled with darkness.

Instinctively, he tried to sit up, bumping his head against something.

Letting it fall back down, he breathed deeply, noticing an eerie green glow around him. He tried to sit up again, but there was something above him. He managed to lift his arms from his sides, feeling cold hard walls surrounding him on all four sides. He was confined in a much smaller space and it didn't feel like a car this time. His hand rolled across some sort of object. He lifted it to eye level, realising where the green light was coming from.

A glowing green stick illuminating whatever he was inside.

Using the light from the stick, he looked around at his surroundings, seeing dirt on the other side of the glass. He shone it all around him, realising that the box was completely made out of Plexiglas and every side was surrounded with dirt. He felt his breath catching in his throat, but he didn't want to freak out. He had to remain calm in order to figure this out. He could panic later when he was out of here.

Searching around, he found a few more glow sticks and something bigger.

A gun.

He lifted it as high as he could, checking the clip. It was loaded. Why would his kidnapper leave him with a loaded gun? Before he could answer that question, he found something else the other side of him, but it was just out of reach. He lowered the glow stick, extending his fingers as far as he could, dragging the object towards him. He lifted it to eye level, frowning at the sight of it.

A tape recorder.

Dropping his head back to the glass beneath him, Nick shone the glow stick across the recorder, seeing a tape inside. He pressed play, hearing a crackle as it came to life.

"Hi, CSI guy. You wondering why you're here?" He heard a taunting man's voice echoing out of the recorder. "Because you followed the evidence. Because that's what CSIs do. So breathe quick, breath slow, put your gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. Any way you like, you're going to die here. Okay."

The tape shut off.

Panic Time!

In a burst of panic, Nick wriggled inside the box, pushing against all the sides, looking for a weak spot. He pushed up, trying to force it open. He kicked his legs. Furiously punched the sides, the top above his head, the lid. Anything, hoping it would come lose. He punched the roof until his knuckles turned bloody, giving out a scream as he started to give up.

His screams burst his ear drums, dying out to nothing more than a whimper. It was useless, he was trapped.

Suddenly a burst of light appeared at his feet.

Nick stopped his sobs, grimacing at the burst of the bright light flooding his coffin. He thought he could use it to look around a little, but all he could see was white. He tilted his head up to avoid it, seeing blotches in front of his eyes. Once the blotches started to fade, he got a better look at his surroundings. He tried pushing up the lid again, searching for a catch or something, but the dirt on top was too heavy.

Panic started to set in again.

It felt as though hours had passed when he finally started to calm down. The light beneath had shut off. He found a fan whirring beside him, pumping air back into his coffin. He did exactly what the tape said and breathed deeply, trying to do the math in his head. He figured Grissom would get to the answer quicker than him, but it wasn't like he had anything else to think about.

Opening his eyes, he looked around, trying to judge the size of his box. He muttered the measurements, lying completely still as the fan continued to spin. He reached his hand out for the fan, trying to pull it out or see where it was coming from.

But the burst of light came back and the fan instantly shut off.

Nick clamped his eyes shut to avoid the light, trying to keep himself calm. He needed to conserve his air supply while the fan was off. Without the fan, he figured he would only survive one, maybe two hours tops, especially if he continued to panic. He tried taking deeper breaths, holding it for as long as he could, before he exhaled. He waited for it to shut off again, before he was able to see and breathe the air returning from the fan. His throat felt itchy and dry already, but before he could get used to the feeling of fresh air, the light came back on and the fan stopped.

It was obvious that he had been trapped in someone's idea of torture chamber now.

Nick covered his arm over his eyes this time, wondering why they were doing this to him. What were their demands? Why did they have a grudge against him? Was he the only one who had been taken? Did they even know that he had a child waiting for him at home?

Evan.

Thinking about his son made him realise just how much was at stake. It wasn't just his life hanging in the balance down here. He had to make it out of here to get home to his little boy. He was only supposed to be with the sitter for the next four or five hours, before he had to relieve her. There was no way she would stick around longer. He had a hard enough time getting her to work weekends, let alone the long nightshifts that quite often came his way.

"No!" He groaned as the blasted light came back on. He turned his head to the fan beside him, starting to feel the effects of oxygen deprivation already. Through the black spots in his eyes, he saw flashes of his son.

Growing up, Nick always knew that he wanted to have children someday. He didn't quite expect to have a surprise child at this stage in his life, but for the past five, nearly six years now, he was the one and only good thing in his life.

Reaching out for the gun he had left beside him, Nick checked the gun over again, coming up with his first plan to improve his odds and make it back to his son.

"The fans connected... the fans connected to the light."

Panting softly, Nick reached into his pocket, letting a small smile spread across his lips as he found the gum. He managed to tear open the packet, grabbing the last piece. He popped it straight into his mouth, chewing softly as the berry flavour trickled down his throat. He had only been chewing the stuff since his son got into it. He never even ate sweets before. He wasn't allowed to as a child and he pretty much avoided them altogether in his adult life when he got into fitness and healthy eating.

To tell it his mother's way, he was a chubby child. He ate whenever he wanted and his grandparents spoilt him rotten with tasty treats. His son wasn't allowed the same luxuries, but he figured a stick of Bubblicious Berry gum every now and then wouldn't do him any harm.

After he chewed up the gum enough, Nick reluctantly spat it out of his mouth, tearing it into two pieces. He knew a gun shot in such close quarters could cause some serious damage to his eardrums, so he attempted to protect them by stuffing the gum into his ears.

Lifting the gun to eye level, Nick cocked it, loading a bullet into the chamber. He panted softly, holding the gun close as he stared at the bright light between his feet. His eyes were starting to come accustomed to its brightness, but it had to go, so he could get the fan working again. He hoped that his plan wouldn't destroy that too, but he couldn't just wait for the light to keep shutting off so he could breathe again.

Pointing the gun downwards, Nick adjusted himself, spreading his feet and legs as wide as he could to avoid injury. He lined it up with the light, taking in a deep breath, before he squeezed the trigger.

Despite the fact that he had chewing gum in his ears, all he could hear was a high pitched ringing sound. He lowered his jaw, moving it in circles, until his hearing returned to normal. He grabbed one of the spare glow sticks from beneath him, cracking it open to see if it worked. The blindly light was out and the fan was working again.

Nick laughed triumphantly, turning his head to the side, relishing the wave of fresh air coming towards him. He breathed deeply, celebrating his small victory with a little sing along to his favourite song as the fan continued to whir.

After a few minutes passed by, he heard a strange scratching sound. He grabbed for his last glow stick, using it look around. The dirt above him appeared to be moving. There was something moving up there.

They had found him. He knew they would. He never doubted them for a second, but the sound of his rescue was music to his chewing gum stuffed ears.

"Down here. Hey!" He banged his fist against the Plexiglas, laughing softly as the scratching noises came louder. "I'm in here. Hey. Hey!" Nick heard crunching noises. The sound of shovels digging him out. "It was Christmas in Las Vegas, when the locals take the town!" He continued singing, louder and louder with each verse. "She was playin' penny poker. Over at the old Gold Spike... Down here! I'm in here!" He let a smile spread across his lips, singing with more enthusiasm. "She won at Texas Hold'em, and again let it ride over... Down here! Yes, I'm down here!"

The rumblings got closer and closer, but nothing above him was moving. He turned his attention towards his feet, using the light of his glow stick to see what was going on. The crunching sound wasn't shovels, it was the glass. The Plexiglas at his feet was cracking. The dirt must have been too heavy.

The cracks were getting wider, dirt was pouring around his feet.

He really was being buried alive.

"Stop! Stop. Stop. Please..." He pleaded, kicking his feet around, trying to stop the dirt from flooding in. "Oh... my God." He squirmed, trying to push back the dirt, plug the holes, the cracks, anything to stop himself from being literally buried alive and suffocating on the dirt. "Help me... please..." His screams turned into cries. He thumped his head back against the Plexiglas, wishing he was anywhere but here.

Why did he even bother getting up this morning? He could have stayed in bed for a longer hug with his son and completely missed out on this torture. Come to think of it, why didn't he leave this wretched city behind all those years ago? He was given the opportunity to move to a better city with the man he loved, but he turned it down for this stupid job that had finally snuffed him out.

"Noooo!" He screamed, giving the lid above him one final punch.

This was it. He was going to die.

Reaching for the items either side of him, Nick remembered that he had the tape recorder. He placed his fingertip on a crack running down the side of his coffin, gulping softly as the dirt started to trickle in like he was on the opposite end of an egg timer.

These were going to be his last words to his loved ones, so he had to make them count.

"My name is Nick Stokes..."


Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the prologue. If you did, please leave me a review. Thanks so much!

More on the way soon. Enjoy your weekend!

~ Holly