Chapter Four

Anyone who'd watch the Las Vegas grave shift CSI's at work, would notice that they were a hard working and really tight group of people. Their supervisor, an aging man with grey hair and an always thoughtful look in his blue eyes, wasn't busy scurrying around the lab all night, but somehow seemed aware of everything and anything that his team was up to at all times.

His right hand, an exceptionally attractive and confident red headed woman, on the other hand, was constantly checking on her colleagues and seeing if they were coming along with their work and offering a helping hand wherever needed.

She was often accompanied by a tall and handsome dark man with surprisingly bright green eyes, who seemed very ambitious and eager to live up to the red heads desires when it came to sudden work related tasks that needed finishing up.

The only other female CSI on grave was a woman with dark brown hair and a cute nose that stood up a little at its tip. When she spoke or smiled knowingly, which she often did, the gap between her two front teeth became visible. She was one of those women who don't fit the dictionary description of 'natural beauty', but support a rare attractiveness that can hardly be missed. The only person who didn't automatically look up every time she passed, was their supervisor and this seemed to bother her slightly, as a flicker of hurt could be seen in her eyes whenever one of those moments occurred.

The last two members of the team were two men: one muscular, square jawed, with deep brown eyes and dark hair and a thick Texan accent when he spoke; the other tall and lean, with light brown eyes and fair hair, laced with extra blonde high lights and more often than not walking around with the sound of Marilyn Manson's music coming from his pocket.

It's these two men that, after one particularly long and tiring night, left the lab together at the first sight of dawn and drove their cars, one following the other, to a cosy one story house a little outside the Strip. There they got out of their vehicles, walked through the front door one of them had unlocked and slumped down on a brown couch that stood in the living room, both too drained to even get them a drink from the kitchen fridge.

'Man, I'm exhausted.' the younger of the two muttered.

'Hmm hmm,' the other replied, apparently too tired to even talk.

They wiggled their feet out of their shoes and curled up on the couch, dozing off a little while later. Soon enough, they were fast asleep. At twelve pm, one of them was snoring loudly and he woke the other man with an exceptionally loud snore. The Texan rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked over at the man sleeping on his couch. He smiled, satisfied with what he saw.

Nick got up, careful not to wake Greg, and went to kitchen to make breakfast. Or rather, lunch, since it was already a quarter past twelve.

While he inserted coffee beans into the machine Greg had bought for him – because he could no longer stand Nick's "sewage water" – and emptied four egg shells into a frying pan on the stove, he thought about the past six months and everything him and Greg had been through together.

Since the night that Greg had slept in his arms, after Nick had comforted him and chased away his nightmare, they had spent more and more week end nights and even week days – during which they slept, because they worked in the night – sleeping together.

Greg had been around Nick's place so much, and staying over as well, that their co-workers had started to refer to them as 'the roomies'. Greg had thanked Nick for his support and told him that his presence alone was enough to calm Greg's till then so restless nights. His sleeping pattern had improved immensely and his eyes regained some of their old glow.

Greg's improved health and regained strength made Nick happy, but the road to recovery also bore his marks on him. Without the younger man knowing, Nick had made an enormous sacrifice. By helping Greg through the toughest nights and seeing him thrash and hearing him scream in his sleep, Nick was reminded more and more of his own horrible past.

At age nine, he'd experienced something that no kid should ever have to go through. He'd never ever told anyone, except for Catherine from work because at that moment it felt right and he'd felt like he had to explain his strange behaviour to his superior and friend. But apart from that one time that he'd let his secret pass his lips, he'd stayed silent as a grave. And as secrets often do, it had started to nag him and pop up in his head more often, the more he helped Greg sleep peacefully.

The coffee was ready and if he didn't take the eggs off the fire right now, they'd burn. Nick tore his mind away from the mist inside his head and focused on the present: breakfast. He coughed and with horror smelled his own morning breath. And a quick visit to the bathroom before Greg woke up.

Standing in front of the sink with a toothbrush in his mouth and toothpaste dripping all over his chin and hand – he never understood how people brushed their teeth without doing that -, he looked up into the mirror. The reflection that greeted him was a grim one: his tired red-rimmed eyes had bags under them that wouldn't look out of place on an eighty-year old woman, his usually tan skin was ash white and he noticed that his hand was shaking slightly. He tried to concentrate and hold it still, but it was no use; it kept trembling like – again – it belonged to his granny.

He sighed softly and finished brushing his teeth. Then he rinsed his mouth with water, used the toilet, washed his hands and went back to the living room, where it looked like Greg had finally awoken too.

'Mornin'.' Nick smiled at the sleepy head on his couch.

'Do I smell coffee?' Greg asked without opening his eyes. 'Proper coffee?'

'As a matter of fact, you do.' Nick replied, 'Freshly made.'

That sure got Greg to his feet and after a quick visit to the bathroom, he sat down next to Nick on one of the kitchen chairs and hungrily attacked his egg toast and coffee.

'Greg?'

'Hmm'

'Can I tell you something?'

'Sure, Nicky.'

'Something perso-'

'Oh, before I forget,' Greg interrupted, 'I wanted to ask you if you feel like throwing a men's dinner party with Warrick and maybe Henry, Archie and Hodges next Sunday?'

If Greg had taken a second there to look up from his eggs at the man who secretly loved him, he'd seen the devastated look in Nick's eyes. But it took him another three seconds before he eyed his friend, and that was all the time Nick had needed to regain his composure and throw on a fake smile.

'Sure, G, sounds like fun.'