Chapter Nine - Home Sweet Home

Dropping the axe from his hands onto the chopping block, Judge Stokes straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow. He blinked looking out at the afternoon sun beginning to set over the ranch, realising how lucky he was to have such a view, even after all these years. It had always been his dream growing up to own a ranch of his very own. He watched his own mother and father successfully running their own cattle ranch throughout his life.

Sure he used to complain as a child about all the chores that fell on him, being the eldest child and all, but he would have been lost without the work. They gave his life structure and purpose, something that he hoped to pass onto his children one day, giving them a sense of security and self discipline.

He cast his eyes towards the driveway, spotting his eldest son's truck finally pulling in. He imagined airport traffic was pretty hectic right now, especially for a Friday afternoon the day before Thanksgiving, making him quite relieved that his son volunteered to collect his mother and younger brother so he didn't have to.

Judge Stokes stacked his arms up with as much chopped wood as he could carry, making his way back to the house. He looked out at their empty fields on his walk back, missing the days when they were filled with over three hundred cattle. Once the children moved away to start their own lives and the reliable ranch hands moved on, it was left to himself and his wife to run the ranch. They struggled to keep up with the work load, forcing them to rethink their dreams.

Auctioning off the herd he had raised was hard enough, but selling off his unused land almost broke him. He hoped to keep his land in the hands of his family, but his children all wanted to make their own decisions and run their own lives.

Running a ranch had never even entered their minds.

Dropping the logs from his arms by the back door, Judge Stokes pulled the gloves off his hands, ditching them on the ground. He stood watch a moment as his eldest climbed out of the driver's seat of his truck, running round the other side to help his mother out the passenger seat. He held her hand, helping her down the large step, before he made his way round to the back to grab their bags.

Folding his arms across his chest, the Judge watched his wife and Billy gathering their things, before they even noticed him stood watch. "Where's Nicholas?" He looked between the two of them, waiting for an answer. The back of the truck was completely empty. He couldn't even see a booster seat for Evan inside. "You said he was goin' to be here." He gave his wife an accusing look, blaming her already.

"He's here." She assured him. "They went to the park. Billy is gonna pick them up later. Evan was a little restless after the flight. You know what six years old are like in the car. This was a two and half hour flight, Bill." Jillian grabbed her purse from her son's hands, carrying it up to the house herself. She kicked off her shoes at the door, breathing in the familiar scent of home. She missed that smell. She hadn't been home in six weeks now and she was really starting to get home sick.

Ditching her bag in the front room, Jillian took a quick look around, stopping in her tracks as she reached the kitchen. Her husband wasn't exactly the cleanest person she knew, but she thought he was at least house proud or even a little bit considerate. She placed her hand over her heart, shocked at the sight of the washing up piled high in the sink. A frying pan slick with grease was on the top of the pile. Under that a baking tray that still had some sort of pie crust stuck inside. A saucepan sat beneath that, caked with a thick sauce of some kind, followed by dirty plates, coffee mugs and cutlery.

"For God's sake Bill, the dishwasher is two feet away." She cursed him while he wasn't in the room, rolling up her sleeves to get started. She was fuming already and she had barely been home five minutes. It took her at least two hours to scrub the whole kitchen clean and her husband still hadn't even given her so much as a smile for finally returning after six weeks away.

The dogs gave her more attention and that was only because it was close to dinner time.

Leaving the spotless kitchen behind, Jillian turned her attention towards the bathrooms and their shared bedroom upstairs. The bed linens hadn't been changed since she left. Her husband's dirty socks were in a pile on the floor. The laundry hamper was overflowing with his clothes and the bathroom was filthy. Towels and clothes littered the floor. Shaving foam, toothpaste and stray hairs stuck to the exterior of her sink basin and she didn't even want to look at the shower drain.

How had she been married to such a slob all these years and never realised it until now? Her six year old grandson had more discipline than this.

An hour or so later, Billy finally returned with Nick and her grandson in tow. She hurried down the stairs to greet them, eager to get them settled in, now that they had finally returned home. Neither one of them had been back to the ranch in nearly two years. She still wasn't used to having her family living so far away from her. She grew up in a household full of brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins at every family event. She always wanted to host her very own holidays one day with her own children and all her family around her, but they were all too busy with their own lives.

It had been over ten years since she last had all of her children under one roof.

"What are the extra bags for Billy?" Jillian didn't recognise some of the luggage in the doorway. She turned to give her eldest son a curious look, sensing a lie brewing, before he even opened his mouth. "Don't you lie to me, Bill Junior." She pointed a stern finger at him.

Her son breathed in a deep breath, anxiously scratching his forehead. "I was kinda hopin' that I could stay here a while."

"Oh... you're separated again?" She tried not to look too disappointed, but it was a natural reaction to the news of her son throwing his marriage away like this. "Of course you can stay here, but what about the children. They're going to start ask questions the more time you spend away from the house."

"Mama, I don't need you buttin' in. This is our problem, let us deal with it on our own. I've already got Dad on my case. I don't need you on my back too." Billy pulled his cell out of his pocket. "Mind if I use Dad's study to make a few calls?"

"Go ahead. I'm gonna get started on making us some dinner. It shouldn't be too long." She folded her arms across her chest. "But we're going to have to talk about this eventually, Bill Junior!" Jillian turned her attention towards her other son, watching him staring helplessly at his phone. "It's never going to ring if you keep staring at it, sweetheart. Why don't you get out and enjoy some fresh air with your son?"

"We've been outside in the fresh air for hours." Nick pointed out to her, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. "Dad's with him in the garden." He grabbed his suitcase, taking it towards the stairs. "I'm gonna crash for a while. Is my room still...?"

"Yeah, it's still your room. Fresh sheets and all." She gave him a smile. "We're probably going to get a full house this weekend, so Evan can bunk in with you. Dinner won't be long."

"Okay. Can you keep an eye on him for a while?"

"Evan? Sure, he'll be fine with your father for a while. They'll probably be inseparable by the end of the weekend. Just like you two were at that age." Jillian checked on her grandson out the window, turning back to look at her son, but he had already disappeared up the stairs. She almost wished that he was Evan's age again. He was easier to understand when he was younger and she didn't worry about him so much.

Evan ran round the back of the house, dropping his jaw in amazement at the sight of the endless fields surrounding them. He immediately started to run, acting as though he had never experienced freedom before in his life.

"Don't you ever tire out, young man?" The Judge folded his arms across his chest, smiling at his grandson as he raced around with the dogs. He reminded him so much of his own son, but he never remembered Nicholas being that full of energy at that age. Nick was tough to keep up with, but he had always been more shy and reserved compared to his brother and sisters.

Evan was the complete opposite to Nick. It was as though they weren't even related at all.

"Hey Evan, c'mere a moment." He knelt down, ushering his grandson over. He caught him in his arms as he got closer, adoring his messy hairstyle. "You're gettin' so big already. How old are you now?"

"Six." Evan jumped with joy. "I was this many." He held up five of his fingers. "But I had my birthday."

"Yeah, I remember. You're gettin' bigger and bigger every time I see you. Pretty soon you're gonna be taller than me." Judge Stokes lifted his grandson into his arms, ignoring the pain in his lower back as he straightened up. He missed his own children being this young. His biggest regret was not being around more when they were small. He tended to leave them in the hands of their mother when they were young, not quite sure what to do with them. It wasn't until they started bringing around children of their own that he realised what he had missed out on.

"Granddad, why can't we live here with you?" Evan curiously asked him.

"Because your father seems to think that Las Vegas is what's best for you both. Sin City is the worst place to live, especially for someone as easily influenced as your father." He undermined another one of Nick's decisions, carrying his grandson towards the house. "I would love it if you could live here with me. You need structure, routine... you could help me run this ranch someday, would you like that?"

"Yeah." Evan grinned widely, waving to his grandmother as they stepped into the house. "Grandma, Daddy pushed me really high on the swings. I went up into the sky." He practically jumped out of his Grandfather's arms, running to her side. "I could see the moon!"

"Wow." Jillian smiled in his direction, quickly making the finishing touches to their dinner. "Go wash your hands please, Evan. Dinner is ready. Tell your father while you're up there and Uncle Billy, he should be in the study." She pushed her husband aside to get to the table, choosing to ignore him for now, since he couldn't even say so much as a 'hello' to her.

Evan hurried down the hall to his Grandfather's study first, bouncing straight through the door. He prowled around the desk like a dinosaur while his Uncle was distracted by his phone, jumping towards the man with a growl. "Rawr!" He playfully sunk his claws into Uncle's arm. "It's... dinner time!"

Billy scooped him up, playfully tickling him in his arms. He hung him upside down as he continued to giggle, shaking his head at the miniature version of his baby brother. "You crazy lil hooligan. You lost all your teeth yet?"

"Nope." Evan sat himself upright, opening his mouth really wide, so the man could see inside his mouth. "This one is w-eally wobbly. When I brushed this one, it fell out." He stuck his finger over a gap in his gum.

"Oh yeah, I see. Did you put it under your pillow for the tooth fairy?"

Evan shook his head, looking a little sad. "It went down the drain."

"Oh no, that sucks." Billy lifted him to his feet, playfully ruffling his fingers through his hair. "You need a haircut, kiddo. You're startin' to look like a hippie."

"I don't want a haircut."

"No? Your Daddy never did either. We used to have to hold him down to give him a quick trim. He had a fishbowl haircut until he was ten." Billy ushered him out of his father's office so he didn't start poking through his things, making sure he locked the door behind him.

Evan scurried away up the stairs on all fours before he could catch him, bursting through the door to his father's childhood bedroom. He searched around for his father, finding him sat on the floor in the bathroom with his back against the tub.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" He crashed into the man's arms, laying himself back against his father's chest with an adorable grin plastered across his lips. "Why are you sad?"

"I'm not sad." Nick immediately put his arms around him, clutching him tightly in his embrace. "I was just thinkin'." He pressed a kiss to his son's forehead, gently combing his fingers through his hair. "Did you see Granddad yet?"

"Yeah, he said we can live with him and I can run the ranch."

"I bet he did." Nick wondered what else he had filled his son's head with. "Do you remember what I told you about Greg this mornin'?"

Evan nodded his head, stretching himself out across his father's lap. "He's my Daddy."

"That's right, baby boy." He kissed his forehead. "Your Granddad and Greg don't really get on. Granddad never thought that Greg was good enough for me. He never gave him a chance really. He just decided that he didn't like him from the first moment he saw him..." He stopped himself before he said something that he couldn't take back. "If he ever says anything to you about Greg, you have to tell me, okay?"

"Why doesn't he like him Daddy?"

Nick shrugged his shoulders together, gently brushing his fingers through his son's hair. "Granddad is just very picky about people. He didn't want me to be with Greg, so he decided that he wasn't goin' to like him. If he gave Greg a chance, they might actually get along. Greg's father used to take him sailin' as a kid. He loves the water, just like Granddad does. You know that Granddad loves those Mafia crime boss movies?"

Evan nodded his head.

"Greg loves those movies. He loves to read and learn about the real crime bosses of Las Vegas too. Greg collects old coins. Granddad has a huge collection of old coins. If he would just talk to him, he would see that he's not what he thinks he is." Nick pursed his lips together, wishing his father would just listen to him. "Greg's a good man. He's an amazin' person. Don't ever let anyone tell you different, okay?"

"Okay." Evan nodded his head slightly, giggling softly as his father gave him a playful tickle. "One four three, Daddy."

"One four three forever, baby." He hugged him closer, pressing his lips to his forehead. He held him securely in his arms for the longest moment, until Evan pulled back, remembering why he had to find his father in the first place.

"Daddy, Grandma said dinner is ready."

"Oh, okay. Wash your hands then, bud. I'll be down in a minute." He lifted his son to his feet, supervising him washing his hands. He really didn't want to go down there himself. He knew his father would have questions or snide comments from him that he really didn't want to hear right now.

Evan raced down the stairs once his hands were clean, weaving through the grownups to get to the table. He pulled himself up onto one of the chairs, kneeling on the seat so he was high enough to reach the table.

"Hold on a minute, sweetheart. You have to wait until everyone is at the table first. It's rude to eat before everyone is seated." Jillian stopped him from lunging across the table for some food. She gave him a smile as he reluctantly sat back in his seat, watching everyone getting themselves a drink and things, before they finally made their way to their seats. "Billy c'mon, your nephew's getting impatient."

"Alright, alright... I'm gettin'." Billy sat himself down, glancing towards the stairs as his little brother emerged. He had never seen his brother look so pale and lethargic before. He looked as though he was at deaths door, but he still managed to drag himself down the stairs, sitting himself down beside his son. "When was the last time you got some kip, Nicky? You look awful."

"Thanks." Nick remarked, brushing his fingers through his hair as their father joined them at the table. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, anxiously biting his bottom lip as his father started to say grace. He hated it when his father used to put him on the spot to say it. He hated it even more when his father used to beg the lords forgiveness for the sins of his son at the dinner table in front of everyone, just to make a point.

After the man said grace without embarrassing him, everyone dug into their meals, focusing more on the food in front of them, rather than any kind of conversation. Tensions were definitely high and Nick sensed that it was all to do with him.

He had never felt so cold and alone in his childhood home before.

Evan managed to sit still for the first ten minutes, but his hyperactivity kicked in before their meal was over. He started to sing as he stabbed the steak on his plate, kicking his legs back and forth off the chair that started to annoy his Grandfather, especially when his knee repeatedly banged against the bottom of the table.

"Evan, stop." The man gave him a stern look.

Not taking the man seriously, Evan's lips spread into a devilish grin as he continued to swing his legs back and forth. "I went on a air plane." He climbed to his feet on his chair, making a whooshing sound as he stabbed his fork back into his steak. "We went really high up."

"Oh, yeah?" His Uncle Billy grinned across the table at him. "Did you like that? My kids are terrified of heights. They won't get on a plane with me anymore."

"I like flying. It's cool." Evan declared, fidgeting on his seat again. "Grandma, where are the dogs?"

"They're probably outside running around, before they have to come in for bed. Put your leg down, Evan. Feet go on the floor, not chairs." She gave her grandson a smile as he immediately put his leg down, sitting himself up straight. "If you eat up all of those vegetables on your plate, you can walk the dogs with me after dinner."

He really didn't like the taste of any green vegetables, except maybe peas, but he wolfed every last one of them down at the thought of being able to walk the dogs.

Leaving his father and Uncle Billy with the washing up, Evan hurried out the door with his Grandmother, running as fast as the dogs across the ranch. Jillian caught up to him as they reached the gate to the footpath, putting a tennis ball in his hand to keep the dogs following his lead.

"Boy's gettin' big." Billy made awkward small talk with his brother. "First grade already?"

"Yeah, I thought he would hate it. He used to scream for me not to leave him in Kindergarten. He can't wait to go back to school everyday though. He comes home ravin' about every little thing that happened." Nick washed another plate, handing it to his brother beside him. "I told him about, Greg." He made sure his father was out of earshot, waiting for a reaction on his brother's face.

"And... how'd he take it?"

Nick cracked a smile, shrugging his shoulders together. "A lot better than I thought he would. Kinda makes me wonder why I was so afraid that he would find out in the first place."

Billy looked round to make sure their father was preoccupied with his newspaper, leaning in closer to his younger brother. "Dad didn't exactly leave you with a whole lot of options. Threatenin' to take your child away from you while he's still in neonatal care would scare anyone into silence. If I had been in your position, I think I would have done the same thing."

"Yeah, right." Nick muttered.

"Hey," Billy put his back to the counter, looking into his brother's eyes. "This thing... it could have happened to any one of us. It's not your fault that you were born... different. You're still my brother, no matter what, you'll always be my brother. If Dad threatens you with this custody thing again, I'll back you up every step of the way. Evan deserves to know the truth. He deserves to live with his father too. You're not a kid anymore, Nick. You can't let Dad dictate your life anymore."

"Is that why you're livin' back here, rather than tryin' to repair your marriage?" He smiled at his older brother, handing him another plate. "When was the last time you actually saw your kids?"

"I pick them up from school every day, much to their dislike. Teenagers aren't like six year olds, Nick. They want you as far away from them as possible, until they need some money." Billy gave him a word of warning. "I think it's safe to say that my marriage is well and truly over this time. Dad had nothin' to do with it. It's all down to me. Martha's filed for divorce. The papers arrived at my office the other day. I've been sleepin' on an old roommates couch for the last few weeks."

"Oh..." Nick spoke softly. "Sorry."

"Why?" His older brother shrugged his shoulders together. "It's my own fault."

"Didn't Martha cheat on you?" He repeated a bit of gossip he heard from his sister, Kayla.

"Paybacks a bitch." Billy muttered softly, stacking the plate on the shelf above them. "I cheated on her first. I know it doesn't make it right, but I guess now we're even. I got what I deserved. Let's face it, my marriage was over long ago. We haven't gotten along in years. The most time we've talked in the past ten years is when I reversed my car into hers in the driveway." He smirked, grabbing the next plate. "We figured that stayin' together for the sake of the kids isn't fair on them if we're always at each other's throats. It's not as though they're really kids anymore. Teenagers don't give a crap what you do, just as long as you stay out of their lives while you do it."

"Isn't your youngest twelve?" Nick gave him a curious look.

"I wish. At twelve she was still into makin' those little elastic bracelets and bedazzlin' everythin' with a ridiculous amount of gems. She's a fourteen year old nightmare now." He shook his head. "And she's a right little madam too. The new boyfriend wears backwards caps in my house and his pants around his ankles. His only accomplishment at school seems to be the record for most detentions. He's convinced her that they're goin' to Hollywood to become big shot movie stars."

Nick smirked, shaking his head at his brother. "Mama tried to warn you."

"Yeah you laugh now, but you've got it all to come with Evan. Do yourself a favour and don't have any more. Kids are overrated."

"That's easy for you to say. You've got eight of them."

Billy straightened up as their father came over, taking the dish towel out of his hands.

"Give me a moment with your brother, Billy." Judge Stokes ushered his eldest away, grabbing the next plate from Nick's hands. "Pancho, you don't look as though you've slept since the last time I saw you. Are you still takin' the sedatives the doctor prescribed you at the hospital?"

"No, I stopped them ages ago."

"Well that wasn't very wise. Were you told to stop them or did you just decide that on your own?"

"I don't like feelin' drowsy all the time, so I stopped them." Nick tried not to snap, but he hated the way his father always spoke to him. "The doctor said it was okay. They were just supposed to be temporary."

"But if you're still not sleepin', maybe you should be back on them."

"I'm not sleepin' because my nightmares keep me awake. Pills can't solve that." He snapped this time.

"There's no need to snap at me, Nicholas. I'm just concerned. You never answer your phone, so how am I supposed to know how you're doin'?" Judge Stokes put down the plate from his hands, waiting for the next. "Are you talkin' to someone about your nightmares? Post traumatic stress can affect anyone, especially someone who's been through what you have."

"I don't have post traumatic stress." Nick argued with him.

Judge Stokes disappeared for a moment, returning with a handful of printed papers that he had found during his research online. "Post traumatic stress can develop in anyone after sufferin' a traumatic event, such as a threat on a person's life." He read from the top, not noticing his son rolling his eyes. "Symptoms may include disturbin' dreams, thoughts, feelin's of bein' under attack..."

"Dad." Nick cut him off there. "I don't have post traumatic stress."

Judge Stokes held his finger up to him, while he continued. "Early intervention appears to be a critical preventive measure. Those with post traumatic stress disorder are at higher risk of suicide..."

"Dad." He tried to cut him off again.

"Most symptoms develop in the first month after trauma, however in a minority of cases, there may be a delay for months or even years after, before symptoms start to appear..."

"Dad, I don't..."

"Re-experiencin' memories is the most typical symptom of post traumatic stress disorder. The person can experience flashbacks of the events, recurring nightmares, repetitive and distressin' images or sensations. Physical sensations can also occur when confronted with similar surroundings or feelin's related to the traumatic event, such as pain, sweating, nausea..."

"Dad!" Nick yelled at him this time, throwing down the next plate into the water, sending bubbly water flying in all directions. "I don't have post traumatic stress. Would you just listen to me for once in your life?"

"I always listen to you." He scowled at his son.

"No, you don't. I've been screamin' at you for years about what I think or how I feel, but you don't hear a word I say."

"Avoidin' the situation is also a common sign of post traumatic stress disorder." Judge Stokes consulted the papers in his hands again, catching his son rolling his eyes this time. "Irritability, anger outbursts, sleepin' problems... all symptoms of post traumatic stress. The longer you avoid this, the worse it's goin' to get, Nicholas. It can lead to depression, anxiety, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, self harmin', suicide. It doesn't only affect you either, it'll start to effect the people around you... where are you goin'?"

"I'm done bein' ignored by you." Nick dried his hands, tossing it onto the side.

"Don't be so dramatic, Nicholas. I'm just tryin' to help you. Just like I tried to while you were stuck out there somewhere underground. I put everythin' I owned on the line for you. My position as a Judge, this ranch, our animals, my grandchildren's futures, mine and your mother's retirement, all of that for you and this is the thanks I get?"

"What do you want from me, Cisco? I've done everythin' that you've ever asked of me, but it's still not enough for you."

"Everythin' I've ever asked?" Judge Stokes smirked, shaking his head at his youngest. "That's a laughable statement. You've never done anythin' I've asked. Did you come and work at the DA's office with me after you finished college? No, you decided that you had better things to do. That ridiculous year you spent as a police officer, before you decided to join the lab. But that wasn't enough for you either. You had to move all the way to Las Vegas, right after I got you the internship at my office. Then you come home and tell us that you're seein' a man. Did you stop seein' him when I asked you to?" He pointed an accusing finger at him. "No, you didn't. You continued seein' him then went and got yourself pregnant with his kid. Did you stop and think for even a moment about my feelin's when you went against our wishes and decided to keep the baby?"

"I didn't want strangers raisin' my son." Nick stopped him there. "He's my child. My flesh and blood. Everyone else in this family gets to keep and raise their kids, why can't I?"

"That's selfish, Nicholas. He would have been better off with people who didn't know where he came from."

"How can you say that? You love that child."

"Because it's not his fault that he was born from... an abomination. But he doesn't belong here with you." He looked down his nose at his son. "Did you get him checked out yet?"

"No. There's nothin' wrong with him. Even if there was, it doesn't change anythin'. He's still my son." He felt tempted to walk away from his father so he didn't have to listen to him anymore, but he had to say what he came here to say. "You should know that I've told Evan the truth, about his father. He knows all about, Greg. I'm goin' to introduce them when we get back. There's nothin' you can do to stop me."

His father folded his arms across his chest, trying to tell if he was being serious or not. "You wouldn't dare."

"Tellin' my son the truth is the right thing to do. I should have never listened to you."

"Nicholas, you're makin' a big mistake. You go through with this and I'll have no choice but to take Evan away from you." The Judge called after him. "You breathe a word of this to that man and you'll never see that boy again."

"I'm not a child anymore, Cisco. You can't scare me into doin' whatever you want."

"Hey, what's all the shouting about?" Jillian stepped through the back door, looking between the two men. "We can hear you from the top of the field. Evan, go upstairs, sweetheart. I'll be up in a minute." She ushered her grandson in behind her. He sat down to take his sneakers off, before he hurried up the stairs to his father's childhood room. "You couldn't just leave it alone, could you, Bill?" She looked at her husband.

"Me?" The Judge scowled in her direction. "Did you hear what he's gone and done now?"

"Yes." His wife nodded, ditching the dog leashes from her hands. "And I agree with him. Evan deserves to know the truth." She changed her tune, releasing that her son was right the other day. She really didn't take his side or see things from his perspective before. She only ever cared about her own thoughts and feelings on his decisions. "The lies could destroy him. I believe that knowing the truth now is in his best interests."

"His best interests?" Judge Stokes laughed. "How would you feel knowin' that you came from... an abomination? That you come from a freak? This will eat him up inside. You may have just destroyed his life."

"Does he really look destroyed to you?" Jillian glared at the older man. "Children don't hate." She parroted her son. "Evan loves his father. He'll love him even more for telling him the truth."

"You're makin' a big mistake." Realising he was fighting an argument he wasn't going to win, Judge Stokes did the only thing he knew how to and walked away.. He let the door slam shut behind him, finding somewhere to escape to, where his family weren't defying his every word.

"Tell me again why I'm the one who has to fish the dead foot out of the storm drain."

"It's called seniority, Greg." Warrick stood on the nice dry street, grinning down at his colleague trudging through the contents of the storm drain beneath him. "Our vic was wearing a red sneaker on the foot he had, so look for a red sneaker."

"Thank you, that'll help me distinguish it from the other dead feet I find down here." He sarcastically remarked, pushing aside the shopping cart tangled up with some sort of rope, so he could take another step. He was relieved that he was wearing waterproof overalls as the water came up to his waist and it wasn't exactly clean. "Did I mention that I can't swim?"

"You're not exactly swimming though. No getting out of it now, Greg. Less talk, more search." Warrick clung to the railing above, helping him look. "Maybe it went further down the storm drain."

"Does it really matter if we find the foot?" Greg glanced back at him. "He'll still be dead."

"Parents don't worry burry their son without both feet, Greggo. Besides, it's kinda our jobs." Warrick folded his arms across his chest, nodding to Brass and Doc Robbins as they made their way over to them. "No sign of the foot yet."

"C'mon Greg, dig a little deeper." Brass egged him on, grinning as the younger man stepped into a deeper section off the storm drain. "Grissom and Sara found our severed head further up the road. We've almost got a complete set now."

"Any ID on our vic yet?"

"Yeah." Brass consulted his notebook, trying to find where he had written it down. "Nicholas Kelly. Twenty two years old." The sound of the name alone sent chills down Greg's spine. He couldn't help but wonder what awful things his father was doing to him in Texas already. "Next of kin has been notified. They're gonna meet us at the station in an hour. They haven't seen or spoken to their son in three years, so they have no idea why his chopped up remains were being transported out of town."

"Lucky we had this sudden downpour earlier that caused our suspect to crash or we might never of found his remains." Doc Robbins leant forwards on his crutches, watching Greg digging something out from between some trash. He tossed it to one side, sighing softly as he started to look elsewhere. "I hear Nick's rejoining us on Monday."

"Really?" Brass looked surprised.

"Psyche gave him the all clear. It'll be good to have him back." Warrick nodded in agreement. "Look out for that wire, Greg." He pointed the younger man towards it.

"Can't we wait for it to drain out or something?" Greg started to get fussy, feeling the water rising a little more. He never learnt how to swim. He loved being on a boat above the water, but he was terrified about the thought of actually being in the water.

"Look to your right, Greg." Grissom's voice echoed from inside the storm drain.

"Huh?" He thought he was imagining things at first, but sure enough, his supervisor had trudged all the way through the drain in search of the missing foot, finding it snagged on something just a few feet away from where Greg was standing.

He watched the older man unhooking it from whatever it was caught on, before he held it up in the air. "And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written: How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news."

Greg looked slightly confused to his reference, reluctantly taking the foot out of his supervisor's hand. At least now he could finally get out of the storm drain and be free of this murky water. He followed the older man's lead out of the drain, handing the foot off to the coroner. He took a moment to get his bearings, before he got himself out of his wet overalls, checking his phone for any messages.

"How many times you gonna check that thing, Greggo?" Warrick caught him again. "I think it's fair to say that your dates stood you up."

"I'm waiting on a text from Nick." Greg informed him, lifting on Nick's warm sweatshirt that he left behind again to warm himself up. "He's flying back to Texas for thanksgiving today. He said he'd call me when he landed. His flight got in about," He pulled the sleeve back, looking at his watch. "Four hours ago, so I'm worried. He hasn't exactly been getting on with his father lately."

"Don't sweat it, he's probably busy with Evan."

"Evan?" Greg raised an eyebrow in his direction, wondering where he had heard that name before.

"Yeah... you know, his son." Seeing no recognition on Greg's face, Warrick realised why Sara had been so secretive about Nick's son during the investigation to find him. "Man, I thought he would have told you that. You two always seemed pretty tight back in the day." He handed Greg a spare towel, seeing the shock of it written all over his face. "He really didn't tell you?"

"No. How can he...?" Greg perched himself on the back of the open car, looking even more confused. "Nick has a son?" He frowned at the older man, wondering why Nick didn't even mention that little fact to him. He was more hurt over the fact that he had lied to him about being with someone else, not that he was completely innocent. "How old?"

"Evan." Warrick folded his arms across his chest, trying to think. "Uh... he just turned six."

"Six?" Greg felt his heart pounding in his chest, realising that this didn't happen during the time that he was away. He had been born long before he even left for San Francisco, meaning it happened while they were still together. "Why wouldn't he tell me about him?"

"Maybe he thought you wouldn't understand." He shrugged his shoulders together. "He's kinda private about, Evan. We never even knew that he existed until he was nearly a year old. I still don't know how Nick and Evan came to be together. He just told us that Evan's mother died and he was all this kid had left."

"Died?" Greg thought he should be relieved that he didn't have any competition, but he felt oddly worse knowing that she was dead. He stayed seated in the back of the car, trying to think back to six years ago. They had already been together for three years by that time, when would Nick have had the time to cheat on him with some random girl that ended up getting pregnant with his kid?

It didn't matter that she was dead. Greg felt hurt, betrayed even. How could Nick have cheated on him and never told him that he had a child?

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~ Holly