Greg gripped the hot coffee mug in his hands, feeling his hands tremble against the ceramic. It wasn't noticeable to anyone but himself, but that didn't stop him from putting the mug down on the counter and clenching his fists. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the cabinets. He could sleep for years.
He heard the door to his office open and close again, and listened to the familiar footsteps coming up behind him. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, forcing his shoulders to relax. He let his arms drop down loosely and didn't move, even when he felt warm, large hands on his shoulders, sliding off his suit jacket and putting it down. Arms around his waist, and a warm chest against his back, and a cheek against his shoulder and lips against his neck. He leaned back, eyes closed, his lungs filling up with his scent of the man he loved.
"God, Nicky," he murmured, feeling his body melt into Nick's. "Why didn't you just say yes when Catherine told us to go home?" They'd been waiting outside the interrogation room for hours, when Catherine finally told them to leave, offering to call when Ray's interrogation was over. Nick, of course, had refused. So Greg had too.
"Hey," Nick's soft voice echoed against Greg's back. "You agreed to stay too."
"Only because you did," he breathed out, and Nick's arms tightened around his waist.
Nick's voice was soft, but indignant. "Ray's our friend, man. He's part of the team. We can't just leave."
Greg didn't reply.
Ray: friend; part of the team; victimsuspectkiller.
Killer.
"Greg," Nick's said incredulously. "It was an accident."
Yeah. Accident. That's what Greg had thought too. He closed his eyes against the truth, felt it twist in his stomach, and forced himself to spit it out.
"No," his voice didn't shake. "No, it wasn't."
Nick stiffened, and Greg grabbed his wrists to keep him from pulling away. He needed Nick's warmth, his comfort, even if they were arguing. He didn't want to argue anyway; he just wanted to sleep.
"I overheard Catherine speaking to Brass in his office," Greg continued before Nick could accuse him of being a bad friend. Because he wasn't. He had believed it to. Believed Ray. But he was wrong. Everything was wrong. "He found the flex-cuffs at the scene, hid them in his pocket so Ray wouldn't take the fall for it. It wasn't self-defence, man, it was..."
Nick's arms tightened around his waist again, and the older man pressed his face against the back of his neck. Greg's chest was tight, and his throat ached. He took refuge in Nick's arms, and felt the comfort of their shared pain. The same confusion, shame, exhaustion and almost, but not quite disgust. A connection so deep, that now Greg could feel Nick's sense of betrayal hot as the breath on his neck.
"Why didn't they tell us?" Nick's voice was so soft, so hurt, so enervated, that Greg felt his eyes sting.
"I guess they didn't want to risk our careers. If we didn't know the truth, and something went wrong, we wouldn't take the heat for it."
Nick groaned, and pressed his face into Greg's shoulder harder, his breath audible against Greg's skin.
They stood in a contemplative silence for a few minutes until Greg had to ask: "Nick, if you had known, would you still have signed the case file?"
Nick was silent for a moment, and even his breath seemed to still. And then, 'Yeah," he said softly, almost bashfully. "Would you still have written it?"
"I... don't know," Greg replied hesitantly. He felt relief flood him when Nick didn't pull away. In the years that they had been dating, Greg had come to rely upon Nick's support so much that he had been almost afraid that Nick would disapprove of what had been on Greg's mind since he overheard Brass and Catherine's conversation. Now, with Nick's warmth surrounding him, he found it easier to speak his mind. "I mean, what we're doing, it's... exactly what we condemn people for. Disregarding the evidence, protecting killers just because they don't want to accept that their friends or relatives are capable of murder. We're going against everything we fight for."
"I know," said Nick. "But sometimes, it's not so easy being a good CSI and a good friend at the same time. Sometimes you've just gotta choose one or the other."
"But what if you can't be either?" Greg closed his eyes tight against the world. "What if nothing works?"
"Hey, whaddya mean, G?" Nick's concern shone through bright and steady. He pulled away slightly, and tugged at Greg's arm, forcing him to turn around. "You did great today. You worked the scene, remained composed, but still fought for what you thought was right. And when things are so far out of whack that's all you can really hope for."
"It sure doesn't feel that way," Greg sighed, placing his palms on Nick's chest, and resting their foreheads together. "I spent all day at the scene, not following evidence, but trying to get the evidence to concur with my theory on what happened. That Ray was innocent. And he wasn't, and now all the evidence I've collected all day just points to murder, not self-defence and it's all going to go against him in court... and-and that's everything I know Nick, as a person, as a CSI, all going down the drain. And I just, don't know what to believe anymore."
"Well," Nick wrapped his arms around Greg, and the younger man pressed his face into the junction between his neck and shoulder. "I know this sounds mean, but maybe we just need to step back for a minute and let Ray deal with this himself. We've been so emotionally invested in this case, that it's draining the life out of us. What Ray did was wrong, and...it's hard to say this after working with him every day for the last three years, but maybe we just need to let him deal with the consequences himself. Let him save his own ass."
Greg sighed against Nick's shoulder. "I think you're right. I keep trying to justify what he did, keep telling myself that in that situation anyone would have done the same, that I would have done the same, but-"
"But you wouldn't have, G. You wouldn't have killed him and neither would I. After what happened with Demetrius James and Officer Clark, we know just how hard it is to cope with taking another man's life. We would never do it willingly, man."
"So... what are you saying, Nick? That Ray's a bad person and we're not?"
"I don't know, G. I just don't know. But I can't deal with this right now. We're both exhausted, and... I think we just need to step back, let someone else deal with this shit."
"I just want to sleep," Greg murmured. "Let's just sleep."
Greg led him over to the couch, and nick lay down on his back. Greg crawled over him, and lay on his side, his back pressed against the back of the couch, and his chest against Nick's side. He rested his head on Nick's chest, and felt the older man's hand tangle itself in his hair. He untucked Nick's shirt, and slipped a hand underneath. He slid his hand up Nick's chest to his heart, the skin hot and soft. Nick hummed in appreciation and Greg smiled. He closed his eyes, feeling Nick's heart beat strong and steady against his hand, and let the older man's breathing lull him into a state of half-sleep. He felt like he was resting for the first time in days.
They lay there for a long time, not quite asleep, until Catherine paged them that the interrogation was over. They stood, and pressed their lips together in a kiss familiar and sweet and gentle.
They gazed at each other for a long moment, speaking without words. They knew now, that whatever happened to Ray, to the team, no matter what challenges they faced, no matter how much everything changed-they were here, they weren't changing, and nothing could touch them, nothing could break them apart.
And they walked out of the room less scared than they had been when they walked in.