Title: Happy Ending
Summary: Greg's needs desperately to start a new story.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy
Rating: K+
Timeline: Post For Warrick
Pairings: Nick/Greg established relationship.
Author's Note: Something that came to me while waiting at the Karachi Airport.
Greg sighed and closed his eyes. It had been a long, tiring day and Greg had been tempted to postpone the publisher's meeting simply because he was too exhausted. And yet here he was in the departing lounge of the Las Vegas Airport, waiting to board a plane to LA.
Greg wasn't exactly sure why he decided not to delay the meeting, but he supposed it had something to do with the team breakfast.
All the tension that had gathered since Sara left seemed to float away, and nobody really cared about anything but laughing. Warrick's arm had been permanently slung across Catherine's shoulder, and he didn't move it even when Nick called him on it. Grissom had gone to the men's room with the same guarded look he had only when someone brought up Sara. Greg really hoped that Grissom was calling her. They both needed it, he thought.
Nick was so happy thought Greg with a smile. Remembering Nick's secretive smile as they held hands under the table, Greg 's fear of traveling slipped away. When he had told Nick that he was thinking of not going, he had told him that their story so far had had it's happy ending, but that that was it. That was the end. Now he had to start a new story.
He took out the draft of his book. He smiled and flipped the book in his hands. Taking out a pen he wrote in capitals.
TO NICK, AND TO WARRICK WHO UNINTENTIONALLY ACTED AS A FINAL MOTIVATION.
Greg was getting on that plane. No more procrastinating. No turning back.
The phone rang and Greg, always having a never-call-someone-when-they-are-at-the-airport policy was a little annoyed. Seeing that it was Nick calling though his frustration disappeared.
"Hey Baby. Missing me already?" said Greg flirtatiously. He was greeted with a strangled noise that Greg realized was Nick trying not too cry. "What's wrong Nicky?"
Warrick. He's—he's…he's gone.
Greg frowned. "Gone? Where'd he go?"
He heard Nick growl in frustration, and was a little intimidated.
He's dead.
Greg started, both because of Nick's word and because of the way he said them. A sharp, blunt growl that Greg had only ever heard him use on suspects.
"What, what do you mean? I—he—how?"
He was shot.
"Why? Who—who shot him?"
We don't know, Greg.
Nick's voice was still harsh and frustrated, and Greg was more than a little uncomfortable.
"Can you stop talking to me like that?" he said nervously.
Like what Greg? He's gone—dead—he's not coming back. And you want me to act like nothing's happened!
"I'm sorry," said Greg bitterly.
Where are you? Have you already reached LA?
"The plane leaves at 9am, it's not even 8:30," he snapped. Greg knew that he didn't have the right to snap at Nick when his best friend had just died, but he wasn't in the mood to play nice. Plus Nick shouldn't bitch at him either, even if Warrick had just died.
You're right, I'm sorry.
Greg could just imagine Nick rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah. I shouldn't have snapped at you. How you holding up?"
I—I don't know… I love you G.
"I love you too Nicky," said Greg, his voice cracking when he heard the desperation in Nick's voice.
Just come home whenever you can.
"I'll cancel the meeting. I'll be over in an hour. Are you at the lab?"
Yeah. Bye, G.
Greg closed his eyes, holding back tears. Warrick's gone he thought brokenly. Sure they had had their disagreements, but he was still family.
"Nicky," said a twenty-something girl from next to him. "That stands for Nicole right? Is she your girlfriend?"
"I—I need to do something." said Greg, trying not to look at Grissom's blood soaked shirt. His grief-stricken gaze bore into his.
"You can pick up Warrick's clothes from the coroner," said Grissom, walking away. Greg couldn't help feeling a little bitter. Picking up Warrick's clothes was grunt work. Grissom hadn't even said process. Didn't Grissom trust him enough to work Warrick's case?
He didn't pull you off it did he?
Greg forced his legs to move.
Greg rested his head against the porcelain toilet and retched, his stomach convulsing even when nothing came out. His head spun when he smelt the reek of vomit and death—Warrick's death.
When he had reached the autopsy room the coroner had yet to start the autopsy, and even though he was only supposed to grab his clothes, Greg had felt that he owed it to the older CSI to overlook the autopsy. Someone had to, and Greg couldn't make the rest of the team—the people who were Warrick's closest friends—do it.
He regretted it now of course. He had somehow managed to keep from throwing up during the actual autopsy. But just as he was dropping Warrick's clothing off to Nick to process he had felt the sudden to urge to be sick. His trip to the men's room had been less than graceful.
He felt a cool hand on the back of his neck, and he leaned into the touch. He inhaled the scent of sweat and Paco Robanne cologne. Nick…He tilted back into his boyfriend, and turned himself to face Nick. His shoulders shook, and he pushed his face into Nick's neck, trying to mask the scent of fatality.
"I watched the autopsy," he whispered, surprised at how weak his voice sounded. "I can smell him all over me. I need to shower."
He let out a sob as Nick yanked him to his feet.
Greg wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the bathroom. Nick was waiting in the locker room, worry etched into his features as he leaned heavily on a locker. His frown deepened when he saw the red scratches on Greg's chest and arms.
Greg followed his gaze and swallowed heavily. "I couldn't get the smell off of me. I'm sorry."
"That's okay, G," whispered Nick, rubbing Greg's shower warm arm. His skin was scorched, but even though he had showered with hot water his arm was covered with goose bumps. Nick tightened his hold on Greg as his boyfriend swayed, dangerously close to falling.
"Come on. Let's get you changed," Nick mumbled, kicking the locker room door closed behind him. He pulled the towel off of Greg, and dressed him, before seating him on the bench. He pulled open Greg's locker to put away his dirty clothes, and started when Greg's backpack fell out of it. Before he could get to it, Greg leaned down and lifted it into his lap. Nick frowned and watched, half curious, half concerned.
Greg pulled the draft of his book from his bag with more force than necessary. Letting his backpack drop to the floor he looked down, only half concerned as its contents spilt onto the floor. He looked down at he draft, and grit his teeth.
Greg stood shakily and stumbled towards the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked back at Nick, his eyes melancholy.
"Before I left you told me that the story had ended. That we had to start a new one. The story didn't end. It ends now," Greg loosened his grip on the book-draft and let it fall into the trashcan. "I can't even look at it, Nicky. I can't start a new story with it still here. Too many memories. No happy endings."
Greg tore his gaze away from Nick's and left the room, and then the lab. He would start a new story. Away from his book; away from Nick; away from the lab; away from Vegas; away from his life. Too many memories. No happy endings.
One night and one more time
Thanks for the memories, even though they weren't so great
--Thnks Fr Th Mmrs, Fall Out Boy
Author's Note: Ha! It wasn't supposed to be this evil but…anyway review please!