Journey Intro: The Journey to Love can be a fun and enlightening one. It's one filled with plenty of turns and detours. Road signs are misinterpreted, if seen at all. Road maps are useless. No one knows the exact directions nor can anyone give advice on how to get there. No one knows exactly how it looks because everyone arrives at a different destination at different times. You'll just know when you arrive. But who's to say the travel plans won't change once you get there? Remain open to the journey. Sometimes it's the best part of the trip.
Branch Summary: The journey to love has begun. Travelling partners have come and gone. Some have taken more than they should and now the journey has stalled. The map is lost, the hope is gone and the travelling vessel is broken. The side of the road is a lonely place. Ah, a light comes from behind! Help is coming. But it seems so far away. Is there enough patience to wait for the much needed, much wanted, much appreciated rescue?
A/N: Welcome to the second branch in The Journey To Love. This will be a multi-chapter story based on CSI characters Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown. Wait, Warrick is dead isn't he? Maybe, maybe not.
Warning: This is a slash romance between the two men. Rated T and M for the majority of the story for sexual situations, language, and job related gore. If you are uncomfortable with it, please don't read.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from CSI. They are all CBS. I do however own the idea of their romance.
Chapter 1: The DVD
It already felt like it was going to be a long night. And the night was just starting. CSI Nick Stokes was already on his second cup of coffee and it wasn't even midnight yet. What was this feeling? He just couldn't shake it. The memory of his friend Warrick Brown had been heavily on his mind for the last few days and he couldn't figure out why. It wasn't Warrick's birthday or the anniversary of his death. It wasn't even the anniversary of when he joined the Las Vegas CSI team. What was it?
It was times like these he wished he could take to him, hear that gentle gruff in his voice, probably laughing at how silly Nick seemed to be acting right now. Probably telling him to "Snap out of it Cowboy." Cowboy. A simple nickname, but it sounded so different when it left his lips. An overwhelming feeling of guilt suddenly washed over him as sat resumed his position in front of the computer, coffee to the side. He never really had the chance to tell Warrick how much he meant to him. How much he cared. Was this the feeling? Warrick knew Nick was gay, even introduced him to a few guys he thought were worthy of Nick. Very few worked out. Not because Warrick was a bad judge of character. They never work out because they weren't him. None of them could hold a candle to Warrick Brown. And when your best example has proven to wrangle the bull the best, no one else stands a chance.
Everybody missed the man; no one questioned who missed him more. But if a poll was taken, Nick was sure he would win. All the time they spent together and as brave as Nick was, he couldn't bring himself to tell Warrick how he really felt about him. He was in love. No doubt about it. He was in love with his best friend. But he couldn't say it. He seriously thought about it after he was sealed in the coffin. Warrick's voice was part of an important rope that kept him hanging on. But he couldn't. Warrick liked his women and there was no way he was going to mess that up. And now it was too late. Warrick would never know.
Nick, your best remedy is to let Warrick be dead and to move on. Stop comparing every man you date to Warrick. It's not a fair fight.
But he's want I want in a relationship; he's want I need.
But he's no longer here. If you open yourself to love, you'll find the right guy.
But he won't be Warrick.
No, he won't be, but he will love you. Nick was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn't even hear Greg's question.
"What?" he asked.
"I said are you answering yourself?"
"Sanders, what the hell kind of question is that?" he asked, showing the annoyance in his voice.
"You looked like you were asking yourself a question. SO I want to know if you are asking yourself a question and if you are answering?" Greg was going to be annoying and persistent. Nick didn't want him to know what was on his mind.
"No." Nick replied.
"No to which question?"
"No to both questions. Now can I get some work done please?"
"Sure. Next time, don't ask yourself questions that make you look so intense, ok?" He said walking out of the lab. Nick shook his head and tried to concentrate on his task. Soon Catherine came in with the address to a new crime scene that she was sending Nick and Greg to. Nick rolled his eyes.
"What's with the roll?" She asked.
"Nevermind." He said leaving to get his kit and find Greg.
"Hey Stokes!" A voice said behind them as they were walking out. It was Pat from the mailroom. "I'm taping this to your locker. It's been in the mailroom for about three days and no one seemed to want to deliver it to you. Just wanted to let you know before I left." He said.
"Uh, thanks." Weird, he thought. Greg looked at him with his hand held out. "Hell no." he said walking to the driver's side.
"Aw, come on man. I never get to drive with you."
"That's 'cause I always grab the keys first. Will you get in so we can go?" Greg got in sulking and reached for the radio. "Oh no, not tonight you don't. I can't handle any weird stuff today."
"Geez, you really are out of sorts today aren't you? What's going on?"
"Nothing I can really explain." He said turning the radio to the country station. Greg groaned. Warrick wasn't fond of the country music either. But he abided by the car rules; you listen to whatever the driver wants.
After arriving at the scene, they saw Detective Jim Brass. He updated them on the case. They entered the house and began gathering evidence. It was obvious the living room was the crime scene. There was blood everywhere- the walls, floor, curtains, ceilings, everything.
"This blood spattering is ridiculous. What did they use?" Greg asked Jim. "Did they find a murder weapon?"
"Yep, an ax and one of those warrior swords from the wall." They both glanced over at the Japanese style swords hanging on the wall and one was missing. "He already confessed to killing his family. We just need you guys to provide the extra proof in case he changes his mind." So the two CSIs went about collecting the swords, looking for fibers- hair or otherwise. Nick happened to find a note in the father's office. It was like a suicide note, except he killed his family and not himself. Greg found the oldest daughter's journal in which she told of finding out her father was molesting her younger sister. She wrote of telling her mother, their pastor and her school counselor. The wife filed a complaint and a restraining order. He was in the process of violating it when the LVPD were called and by the time they arrived, he had killed his wife, four children, the pastor and his wife who were there to comfort the family.
On the way back to the lab, Greg talked the whole time. Nick tried his best to block it out. Just a few more minutes and I can go home and sleep. Maybe I can get this Warrick stuff out of my system. He smiled because he had the next day off and he could sleep in.
"See, I told Archie you would like that joke."
"What? I've haven't listened to a word you've said since we left the scene, Sanders." They parked the car and took the evidence out of the back and upstairs to catalog it. Nick still couldn't shake the odd feeling he had. And it was beginning to show.
"Mr. Stokes, are you ok?" Dr. Ray Langston asked him, with a stern but concerned look.
"Not really, but nothing can be done about it." He replied.
"I'm available if you need to talk about whatever it is, ok?" Nick nodded in thanks. Catherine looked him straight in the eye.
"You know that goes for me too, Nicky. It's not a boyfriend is it?" He hesitated. He was about someone he loved, but technically not a boyfriend. He then shook his head. "Don't let whatever it is burden you down. Last time I check my ears were in perfect condition."
"If I could explain it, I'm not sure I would. Thanks anyway, both of you." He left for the locker room and right on his locker was the taped package Pat mentioned. He grabbed it, his extra clothes bag and his car keys.
The sky was turning the slightest hint of morning gray, the color right before the sun begins to rise. Nick dropped his bag on the couch and decided to forgo opening his mail and hit the shower instead. While bathing his still couldn't figure out why Warrick was on his mind so. It just didn't make sense. Was this a message from beyond the grave? He really didn't believe in that stuff. But if push came to shove, he guessed he could see a physic if he couldn't figure it out on his own. The sun was barely coming to the bottom of the curtains as he sat on the bed and plugged up his phone. He started to say a "good night" prayer out of habit, just because his strict conservative Christian parents taught him to, but decided to say a real one instead. Hoping for guidance as to why he was thinking of Warrick so much. As he closed his eyes and felt himself drifting off, he swore he could hear Warrick's voice say "sleep well cowboy".
It was nearly 10 a.m. when Nick turned over; the sun was in his eyes. Guess I didn't close the curtain enough. He stretched, tangling himself more into his sheets and laid quietly listening to the stillness of his apartment. It would be nice to have someone else stirring around here besides me. He could hear the birds chirping outside and the garbage trucks emptying the bins on his side of the complex. Sighing, he got up and headed to the bathroom. After dressing, he made himself breakfast and headed to the living room to catch up on some TV. He placed his plate on the coffee table and found the remote. He picked up the letter or what he thought was a letter, to see what who sent it. He discovered that it was a DVD package, with a Las Vegas zip code. But there was no handwriting, no return address; just the address of the lab and his name. Strange. Then he thought of his friend Simon who ran a gay porn website. Sometimes he would send Nick DVDs of movies his company shot or amateur videos uploaded to the website. He didn't particularly like to watch porn, mostly from his upbringing. But he would watch everyone occasionally when he was really lonely. He took a couple of bites of his scrambled eggs before putting the disc in the player and pressing play. He heard the whir of the player start as he sat down. As he took a bite of his toast he thought he heard a familiar voice saying "Test, one, two. Ok, now recording." Warrick? Couldn't be. I just might have to have my head checked. But when he looked up at the flat screen, his mouth dropped open and he almost fainted.
