Response to Challenge #10 on FanFictionCritiqueGroup . com
NOT BETAED.
The Challenge:
1. Must include the phrase: "Heroes. Giants. Villians. Wizards. True Love. Not just your typical, average, everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, ho hum, fairy tale." Or the phrase: "You don't belong here."
2. Must be any one of the following: Angst, Romance, Humor, Songfic, or Horror.
3. Must involve the presence of one of the following: Michael Symon, Cher, John Ritter, or LLK. (Choose wisely!)
4. Must be a minimum rating of K and a max rating of M.
5. No more 1,500 or less than 750.
Ghosts
Only a few weeks had past since Nick's abduction, the grueling experience had succeeded in tearing the team apart, leaving only small threads to keep them together. Each individual member did their best to locate their buried coworker: checking maps, following leads, begging their father for ransom money, and arduously clicking the 'WATCH' button. Despite everything they had done, all the tears and elbow grease involved, it all went to waste. Eventually the coffin was found, but it was too late; it had become Nick's personal death bed.
Doctor Robins said it was a combination of the ant bites and low oxygen levels that led to his heart failure. That was only a small reassurance to Warrick Brown; knowing that Nick--his best friend--didn't die at the end of the gun. It helped Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows, and Sara Sidle to know that there was nothing Nick could have done to stop it from happening. They all knew Nick was a fighter and that he wouldn't back down from anything. Unfortunately, the fact that they weren't able to work fast enough, gnawed on the frayed nerves of everyone.
Greg had done his best to go back to his normal routine, but found his life getting blander with out with Southern man. He couldn't be there for Catherine or Warrick like they were for each other, or Grissom and Sara the way they did. He could only be the comic relief that was slowly blending into the background.
In an attempt at normalcy, Greg retired to the break room after shift had ended, and popped his favorite video game into the resident Play Station. As the game menu came onto the screen, he clicked buttons from memory, his mind on his lost friend.
Greg's eye lids began to droop, only one of the tell-tale signs that he was exhausted. He forced himself to wrap his head around the game, but could only focus on his current investigations. With one pair of hands gone, the cases seemed to pile up. Nick's case had been placed to the side, the newer cases taking priority. Greg found it hard to work without Nick by his side; without his little reminders on how to do things correctly.
Nothing could bring back Greg's gusto for his work, bubbling personality, spiky hair--even now his hair lay flat--or the spunkiness he brought into the labs walls, because nothing could bring Nick back to them. So Greg's cases continued to add up, drowning him in a sea of procedures and paperwork. Grissom warned him many times, Catherine consoled him, Warrick gave little pep talks that left him in tears, and Sara gently, yet sternly tried to push him into the job. No matter who it was or how they did it, Greg remained the same.
Greg began to shut down the game when a familiar voice floated towards his ears.
"Don't you have work to do?" the voice asked. Greg rolled his eyes. "Actually, what are you doing?"
"Playing a game. Heroes. Giants. Villains. Wizards. True Love. Not just your typical, average, everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, ho-hum, fairy tale." he answered, his voice monotone.
"Y'all have gone crazy since I've been gone."
Greg's head shot around, the accent and favored word of the Texan sinking in. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the late Nick Stokes standing in the door way.
"You're dead," he said shaking his head, and setting down the controller. "You don't belong here." Nick gave him a sad smile.
"Nope. But what other choice do I have? You need help." Nick's ghost said as he moved to a chair and sat down.
"No I don't. I just need you back, we all need you back," Greg said. Nick shook his head.
"No you don't. You need to get over it. I'm gone. You guys did your best and that's all you could do."
Greg shook his head, and his voice cracked while holding back tears, "Nick, you died! We failed you…I failed you." Nick's eye's hardened with new understanding.
"My death was not your fault; there was nothing you could have done."
"Hmpf," Greg huffed as he leaned forward onto his hands.
"You guys found me, that was all that matters," Nick told him firmly. Greg nodded.
"Okay…I guess I can try and believe that," he told the ghost. "Even though I know you shouldn't be here talking to me."
Nick gave a small laugh, "I know."
"I know who you remind me of now," Greg said out of nowhere. Nick looked Greg in the eyes with a questioning gaze.
"Lenora McCracken." Nick looked confused.
"She was this socialite in old Vegas, always worrying about helping others with things and put her own needs second. Other than the whole male/female thing, spiting image," Greg explained. Nick laughed.
"Well I'm glad you finally figured it out," Nick responded. Greg smiled for the first time in just under a month.
Nick stood up, causing Greg to do the same, and then gave him a quick hug.
"See you later," he promised. Greg nodded, a different kind of sadness in his eyes. Greg watched as Nick walked out of the room, his ghost disappearing halfway down the hall.
The End.