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Greg left the next morning for San Francisco, Nick's late night phone call still fresh on his mind. He didn't sleep at all, but it wasn't like he expected it. His body was under far too much stress, and his mind was under even more.

He boarded the plane and stared out the window the entire flight back home.

Months passed, and Greg kept in touch with a few of his old co-workers, though most of what they had to say was about Nick and Aimee, their forthcoming daughter, their wedding… Eventually, Greg asked not to hear about them, and he was sure that word traveled fast among his old friends that he had something for Nick.

As an attempt to get over his eight year long crush on Nick, and as a challenge from Catherine and Wendy, Greg tried dating. But there was always some tiny flaw, something that no matter how hard Greg tried, he couldn't overlook. He kept telling himself that it wasn't because they weren't Nick, that it wasn't because they didn't have brown eyes or a southern accent or brown hair or any of the attributes that Nick had, but when it came right down to it, Greg was finding dating harder and harder to deal with.

Try as he might, there was no getting over Nick Stokes.

--

From Greg's calculations, it was a month until Aimee was due, and Greg hadn't heard from Nick since the phone call in the hotel room. No one had said a word about Nick or Aimee for a good month and a half, and while he was thankful about that, he was still curious about how things were going. Nick had done a great job of hiding the fact that he was gay his entire life, and while Greg really wanted it to blow up in his face, some part of him was glad that Nick was happy. At least, happy that he was pleasing his family.

When he got the call from Wendy, he'd just gotten off a triple shit and was about to crash on his couch with daytime TV playing in the background; luckily, he'd moved out of his parents house two weeks or so after his return from Vegas.

Unfortunately, before he was out enough to ignore the phone, it started vibrating and blasting "Feel like Makin' Love" at the highest volume.

"Sanders," he yawned. The teen on the TV had just discovered that her aunt was actually her male-to-female biological father.

"Greg, I'm so glad I caught you."

The quiver in her voice got his attention right away. "What, what's up?"

"I know you didn't want to hear anything about Nick or Aimee, but I really think you'd want to hear about this."

Greg shut off the TV and straightened on the couch. "Okay, whatever, what happened?"

"Aimee was in a car accident last night."

"Oh my God." Greg let out a slow breath and cleared his throat. "Is, is she okay?"

Wendy was quiet for a moment before she said, "There were two casualties." Greg's heart nearly stopped as he thought, Nick. "Both Aimee and her baby died."

"Oh my God," Greg repeated. Nick was alive. Alive. And okay, and living and breathing and God, Greg felt like an asshole because Nick was okay. And Aimee was dead. "How, how's Nick holding up?"

"Not well. Catherine only knew about it because she was first on the scene before Ecklie took her off because of personal reasons. We haven't heard from him."

"Anyone try to call him?"

"Robert tried for almost an hour, and he didn't pick up once."

"Does he know?"

"He hasn't been into work."

Greg's heartbeat slowed down and he swallowed. "How do you know he's…He's…?"

"Grissom had a message on his machine."

He let out a quiet, relieved ha and nodded, though Wendy couldn't see him. "You, you didn't mention that when you said no one had heard from him."

"Sorry. Kind of hard to wrap my head around."

"Yeah." Greg ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. "Thanks, Wendy. For…Calling."

"I just figured it'd be something you'd want to know." Greg knew she was dying to ask are you going to do anything?, but he wasn't going to offer any information and he knew that she wasn't going to actually ask him, so he let it drop.

"I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

Greg sat on his couch for a moment or two before he stood up and grabbed a bag from the hallway closet, and set to work on packing as many clothes as he could, simultaneously calling his boss and telling him that a family emergency had come up, and that he wouldn't be able to make it into work for a while.

By the time he realized that Nick might not want to see him, he was halfway to Vegas and didn't exactly have the option of changing his mind.

--

When he arrived, he hailed a cab and, without thinking, gave the driver Nick's address. Soon, he was standing on Nick's doorstep, bag at his feet, and his hand hovering over the doorbell. What if Nick really didn't want to see him? He could kick him out, could call the police, and Greg would have wasted the money for a plane ticket to Vegas to see a guy who didn't even want to see him. Nick had made no effort to contact him over the past few months, and while Greg hadn't either, he wasn't exactly the one who was begging to fix their screwed up friendship.

Just as he closed his eyes and pressed the doorbell, the door swung open and he was met with a very beat looking Nick Stokes. "I…I heard about Aimee," Greg said, swallowing and hoping that he wouldn't start babbling.

"I figured." Greg let go of the backpack slung over his shoulder and stepped forward to hug Nick, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him close.

"I'm sorry." He sighed as Nick's arms snaked around his waist, and Greg closed his eyes and imagined this was happening under much happier circumstances.

"I'm sorry, too."

"I meant I'm sorry about Aimee."

"I'm sorry about everything."

Greg bit his lip and tightened his arms around Nick's neck. "I'm sorry about everything, too."