Title: Never Too Late
Chapter: 7
Rating: PG-13 for language
Author's Note: I think the breaks are going to work now! At least I hope. Thank you all, so much!
"Man, what's got you in such a good mood?" Warrick asked, looking up from the evidence laid out in front of them in a brightly-lit room at the lab. Nick had been smiling all night, the kind of smile that you try to hide but simply can't. Warrick loved seeing his best friend so happy, but he hated being out of the loop.
Nick shrugged. "Can't I be in a good mood?"
"No," Warrick said simply. "Now tell me what's going on."
Nick smiled, he loved Warrick's honesty. "I'm just...happy."
"Uh-huh..." Warrick urged. When Nick didn't speak up, he continued. "What's his name?"
Nick looked around instinctively to make sure no one was in ear-shot.
When Nick had told Warrick he was gay eight years ago, simply answering Warrick's outright question of, "Man, do you like dudes?", he'd been completely delighted with Warrick's reaction of, "Cool! I'd choose men over women, too, if it wasn't for that whole penis thing." They had both laughed. Warrick made it seem so easy.
When he was younger, as a high school student, then a college student, then a rookie police officer, then a more experienced CSI, then, finally, a CSI in a state where everyone didn't know him as "Mr. and Mrs. Stokes' son", he'd gone through strange phases with his sexuality and, more importantly, his openness about his sexuality. From the time he was a teenager, he knew he liked guys. And not in a the I-can-see-myself-maybe-experimenting-with-guys-in-college type way, in the I-never-want-to-look-at-a-vagina-ever type of way. He was gay. There was no way around it. And he hated himself for it for a long time, because homosexuality was a sin, because it was unnatural, because it was something he'd always been told not to be. Gay men were dirty, they were drag-queens and pedophiles, they wore paisley silk shirts. They...had AIDS.
It wasn't until he went to college that he got to know more of the world, even though he was still in his own backyard. He learned that not everyone thought the way his hyper-conservative parents did. He learned that sexuality was a random trait, not something that made you normal or abnormal. He learned that he could be himself, he could love himself. He could love someone else. He could love another man.
He could lose another man.
He joined the police force out of college, and he retorted to his high school ways. Most officers were cruel, downright unfair to gay men. And with less than a year's experience under his belt, he felt he had no choice but to join them in their ridicule, hide his secrets, and he found himself turning more into his own father than he ever desired to be.
He transferred, he became a CSI. Science became his game. In the scientific world, sexuality was a genetic decision, it was as much a part of someone as brown eyes or red hair. He became comfortable again. Then he came out to his parents, and while they didn't disown him, they outwardly expressed their disapproval, their disappointment, their shame at having him as a son. It should have shook him to his core, but at that point he'd already realized that the kind of shame and guilt and depression he could put himself through was nothing compared to what anyone else could say to him.
He moved to Vegas, and he found his new life, his new job, his new friends. He found his medium - not hiding in a proverbial closet nor wearing his sexuality on his sleeve, he kept quiet until it came up. So when it came up with Warrick, his ease felt like ice cold water after dehydrated days in a desert. So he was honest with Warrick, and he never regretted it.
"I can't tell you," Nick answered finally, deciding there was no one within ear-shot.
"No fair, man!" Warrick chuckled. "Why not?"
"I just...I don't know where it's going yet. I don't want to jinx it."
Warrick nodded with a wide smile painted across his face. "Fine, but I expect all kinds of details when you know it's a sure deal."
Nick agreed.
"Just answer me this," Warrick asked.
Nick nodded.
"You like him?"
Nick smiled, more to himself than to his buddy. "More than you know, man."
- * -
Catherine walked into Grissom's office, shutting the heavy door behind her.
"There's another, Gil," She said bluntly.
Grissom removed his glasses and took the folder Catherine offered him. He perused it with a blank stare. "No leads. Still." The defeat in his voice was almost devastating.
"It's been two months since the attacks started now, Gil. You still want to keep it on the down low?" She asked.
Grissom hesitated a moment, then nodded. "I can't put him through this, Catherine."
She nodded, she understood. Somehow, though, she couldn't shake the feeling that, perhaps, Greg had already been to hell and back.
- * -
"Hey, G!" Nick announced cheerfully. "I come bearing gifts." He handed Greg a six-pack of beer and Greg smiled at him, inviting him into his small but tidy apartment. Once inside, Nick gave Greg a small peck.
It had only been three weeks since their first date, but it seemed Nick and Greg had, or had at least wanted, to spend every waking hour together. It seemed so easy to be together, like it was something they'd been doing for years. Nick loved the excitement, Greg loved the security. He loved being with a man who was so completely comfortable with Greg, so completely unaffected by everything he knew. It was refreshing to Greg, it was lovely and new and a spontaneous and refreshing.
And there was something missing. And Greg knew what it was.
As Nick and Greg sat down on Greg's small couch in front of a big-screen TV and began good-humouredly trash-talking each other through several rounds of a video game, sipping their beers and occasionally pausing for a kiss, it hit Greg all over again. He still wouldn't let Nick touch him, not really. He'd gotten much more comfortable with kissing him, and he enjoyed it so much he almost didn't think about his...state. But he wouldn't let Nick's hands roam up and down his back, he wouldn't let Nick step close enough to him that he could feel Nick - all of Nick. He wouldn't let themselves get carried away or caught up in lust like they should have been able to. And it bothered him because it was Nick, Nick who had been so patient, so kind and accepting, so openly unafraid.
He glanced at Nick, so intently focused on beating Greg at the trivial video game, so completely lost in the fun they had together. It almost broke Greg's heart. He saw, in Nick, trust and acceptance and something almost like love. He wanted to touch Nick. He wanted to make love to Nick. He couldn't, and he didn't understand why.
The ringing of his cell phone pulled him from his thoughts, and he paused the game, shooting a playful smile at Nick before answering.
"Sanders."
"Greg?" A woman's voice that sounded vaguely familiar asked.
"This is he," Greg answered, a little weary.
"Greg. This is Susan Harper."
It took a moment for the name to register with Greg, and when it did his heart sank. He immediately stood from the couch and relocated to the kitchen, suddenly needing to be as far away from anyone else as possible.
"Hi," He said in a very small voice, trying to maintain a polite demeanor.
"I know we haven't spoken in a while, dear," She began before cutting herself off, apparently feeling the undertones of why as much as Greg was. "But I was wondering if you had a moment to talk about my son."
Greg physically flinched. "No," He answered immediately.
"Greg, please," She almost begged. Her needy tone, and the fact that Greg had, since the day he met her, loved the woman, kept him from hanging up. She almost cried as she spoke. "I think Liam's in trouble. I think my son is in trouble."
- * -
"This isn't my fault!"
"What do you mean this isn't your fault?" Greg screamed at the man who was not supposed to be there. Greg was having enough trouble as it was with everything, he wanted to get his belongings from the house he shared with a man he never wanted to see again and leave. Forever. Instead, when he opened the door to the small house, Liam was there, sitting on their sofa, holding a bouquet of roses between his hands and begging for Greg's forgiveness.
"How was I supposed to know?" Liam yelled back, trying to justify unjustifiable actions.
"You weren't! That's why monogamous couples who aren't using protection every time they fuck don't generally sleep with random man whores!" Greg screamed, too exhausted to be fighting with Liam again and too exhausted not to.
"I thought you'd be okay with it," Liam said in a lower tone, obviously clutching at any explanation he had left.
Greg rolled his eyes, that was simply all there was to do. "Really, Liam? You thought after years of being together - living together - I'd be okay with you fucking some guy behind my back? Or maybe you just thought I'd be okay with getting fucking AIDS, is that it?"
Liam took a step towards Greg who stepped backwards just as quickly.
"I'm sorry, baby," Liam tried, completely defeated.
"Stop calling me that!" Greg nearly backed himself into a corner trying to get away from his once-soulmate.
"Please don't leave, Greg." Liam actually sank to his knees, literally kneeled on the ground and begged.
Greg just shook his head. He didn't consider Liam's plea, not for a second. The damage he'd done was irreconcilable, and it had nothing to do with their relationship any longer. - * -
Greg was lying on his bed, head on the wrong end, just thinking. Wishing and hoping and thinking. He was driving himself crazy, really, but what else was he supposed to do? He'd left San Francisco for a reason, he'd moved hundreds of miles away from his family and his friends and thousands of memories, for a reason. He never wanted to see Liam again. He never wanted to talk to Liam again. He never wanted to see or talk to Liam's mother again, and barring some sort of aneurysm that made him completely insane, he could not have imagined a situation in which he would have to see either one again.
Until that call. She'd literally begged him to listen to her, cried so hard over the phone he almost reached out to hug her. She was asking for Greg, for Greg's help. In...some way or another. She didn't know what she wanted Greg to do, and he didn't know either. Her details weren't specific. "He's losing himself," She'd said. "He's going crazy...he's going to hurt himself. Or someone else." And then there was the one huge bullet to the chest. "He's so sick, Greg. He's...deteriorating," Which was so not what Greg wanted or needed to hear. Greg became infected only a few months after Liam, apparently. If Liam was so sick, so frail, how long until he became like that.
He was helpless. He didn't know what to do. And worse, overwhelmed and needing to be alone, he'd abruptly gotten off the phone with Susan and kicked Nick out of his house. Almost literally. He yelled at Nick, screamed at him to leave. And Nick, patient, kind Nick, just gathered his things and left. He could tell, somehow, that Greg needed to be alone. He almost didn't care that Greg was yelling so loudly neighbors no doubt overheard.
He felt awful. But he'd been lying on the bed for two hours, thinking. He felt sick to his stomach, he felt overwhelmed. He needed Nick, and he hated the fact that he knew Nick would come running regardless of how Greg treated him earlier in the day.
"Greg...baby...are you okay?" Were Nick's first words when he picked up the phone after only one ring.
"Yes, I'm fine," Greg said defeatedly. "I'm so sorry, Nicky."
"What the hell happened?"
"I...I'd rather explain it to you in person," Greg said. He knew he was asking too much, but selfishly hoped Nick would disregard that. "Will you come over here? Please?"
Nick didn't hesitate. "Yes, of course, honey. I'll be over soon."
When Nick arrived, Greg had leapt into his arms like a long-lost lover. And Nick had just wrapped strong arms around him and caressed his back. They stood for several moments before they moved to the couch, and Greg finally began talking, explaining the spanse of his ugly break-up with Liam, the call from Liam's mother, and the fact that he had no idea what to do about all of it.
"You do what feels right, G," Nick had offered once Greg was done talking. "You do what you need to do. You deserve to take care of yourself, and if this is too much, you let it go. You leave it alone. You let his mom figure it out, that's her job."
Greg smiled. "Why does it sound so easy when you say it like that?" He asked.
Nick smiled back, and squeezed Greg's hand, the one he'd been holding onto since Greg began talking. Well...ranting, really.
"What would you do, Nick?" Greg asked.
Nick shook his head, he contemplated, toying with a loose string on the end of one of Greg's afghans. And then he answered. "I would do what I could, honey. I would...call him, or call someone close to him, or something. I don't know, honestly."
Greg sighed. He'd been thinking that very thing since Susan called, I have to do something. But he didn't know what, and for a moment, he needed not to know. He wanted to take care of Nick for a moment. He wanted someone to lean on him. And he wanted an answer to a question that had been floating around in his head for weeks.
"Nick?" Nick looked up at him. "What was...that thing you said...a couple weeks ago." Nick didn't seem to understand. "You said you'd lost someone...to HIV. What did you mean?"
Nick immediately looked uncomfortable, and Greg took note.
"I mean, don't tell me...if you don't want to. I just...I thought..."
Nick cut him off with another squeeze of his hand and smiled at him. He took in a deep breath of air before he spoke.
"Michael." He said in a voice so soft Greg had to strain to hear it. "Michael was...we were in love. Crazy in love." He smiled bigger, remembering probably beautiful things. "It was a long time ago, early 1990s. I had just transferred to CSI in Texas when I met him. We...we were in love." Tears began to swell behind big, chocolate eyes. "He died four years after I met him. But in those four years..."
"I'm sorry, Nick," Greg said, completely sincerely.
Nick shook his head. "It's okay, it was a long time ago, G. He already had early AIDS when I met him...he lived a remarkably long time, considering. But back then...things were different and science hadn't caught up. There were drugs, but not many, and they were...awful. He stopped taking them, he chose not to live, in a way."
"A lot has changed," Greg said relfectively, almost needing to reassure himself.
"A lot has changed," Nick confirmed. "A lot. Thank God. It isn't a gay man's disease anymore, but back then, it was. And I'll almost say it was the stigma that really killed him. He was brilliant and vibrant and really, really incredible when he was healthy though, G. He was something."
There was a long moment of silence. Nick smiled, and a few tears fell. From both of them. Greg mourned for Nick, and he mourned for a man he'd never met. He had questions, millions of them, but he didn't ask. Not then.
"If I was in your place, G, and it was Michael in trouble instead of Liam..."
"No way Michael was the kind of monster Liam was," Greg interjected.
"No," Nick shook his head, a few more tears falling. "No, not at all. But Greg, you loved him like I loved Michael, and we both know that in the end, that's all that really matters.
And Greg smiled, because he knew Nick was all kinds of correct.
- * -
"Gil!" Catherine ran to catch up with him just as he was about to leave the lab for the first time in what seemed like years. She hated to keep him behind, but she had important news to share. Tragic, terrifying, important news. "Gil," She caught up to him. "The case from San Francisco, the one linked to Greg..." It had been almost a month since they'd spoken about it last, so he nodded in confirmation. "The first three victims all recently tested HIV positive."