Bleeding Love – Part 11

Written By: Ms Maggs

"Tt's been thirty minutes, Vartann!" Grissom tapped his watch as he marched toward the detective. "Nick's done a great job calming the guy down, but you know how these situations can change on a dime, so I want that Tactical support here now!"

"There's been a complication." The detective had just gotten off the phone with the Sheriff. "The situation at the high school is still unresolved and now there's a domestic hostage situation a few miles from here and the guys that were being deployed here were just rerouted there."

"Are you telling me we're not getting any support?"

Vartann exasperatedly replied, "I'm just as ticked as you, Grissom."

"How can we have three TV news teams here already, but not one team from Tactical?"

"Capitalism," the world-weary detective grumbled, "Drama sells TV advertising, and there's plenty of drama in Vegas, so the stations have the money to staff up. If we actually spent the right amount on LVPD staffing there would be less drama, but the stations would lose money and the public would be bitching that nothing newsworthy ever happens in this town. Right now all over the city, people are glued to their TVs watching the high school standoff and if it goes badly, they'll watch hours and hours of network coverage on why it happened, and what we can do to recognize the signs next time, and how to prevent it from happening again, and the memorial service, and interviews with people who didn't even know the people involved. They eat that shit up."

Once again Grissom was wondering why he didn't escape with Sara when he had the chance.

"It's the Sheriff's call, and he's basing his decisions on the fact that there are no civilians at risk here, just one CSI. You know the drill – minimize civilian risk and focus resources on the situations that aren't under control. "

The words sliced through Grissom. "Yeah, and what's a little more CSI bloodshed this year, right? Clearly we're all expendable in the Sheriff's eyes."

"You're making it personal about your guys."

"Yes." Thinking of Warrick, the burnt out supervisor turned his back on the detective. "Eight months too late."

"Hey!" Vartann stuffed his hands on his hips and sighed, "Between you and me, I think Stokes is a much better negotiator than any of the Tactical guys anyway. It'll be alright." It had to be, because he was in charge of the scene when it all went down and Nick's blood would be on his hands.

"Griss!" Greg motioned for his boss to hurry up. "Nick's tryin' to talk him out of the gun. Listen!"

I won't let anything to happen to you, Steve. I'll stay with you every step of the way so they won't shoot, I promise.

I'm already dead - a bullet is just a formality.

I wasn't lyin' when I said I needed a friend. Talkin' through all that stuff with you has really helped me figure things out. We can still be friends after we walk out of here together.

That's just something you're saying to get out of here. You won't visit me in prison.

I will. I promise. I visited the daughter of the guy who put me in that coffin, the same woman who wouldn't provide information critical to my rescue.

You did?

Yeah. She didn't want to talk though, so it was a short visit. C'mon, Steve, let's do this together.

I can't.

Why?

Because I haven't decided yet.

Haven't decided what yet?

How I want this to end.

I know how it needs to end - with both of us walkin' out of here alive.

Will my wife be able to cash my insurance policy if the cops shoot me?

I don't want to think about that, man, because I want you to live.

Answer the question!!

Greg looked to Grissom. "He's getting edgy again."

"Yeah."

Steve, do you want your wife to be able to collect?

No, I don't want the bitch to get another damn dime from me.

Then stay alive and go to do the time for your crimes, because then the bitch won't be able to collect on your policy and she won't have your income either. That's the best way to stick it to her, right? If you're dead, she'll collect the insurance money, buy herself a bunch of fancy things, and bring guys home to sleep on your old pillow.

She's probably already online booking a trip to Maui.

So why give her the chance to collect the money and have the last laugh when you can laugh at her from prison and say you begged to go behind bars to get away from her bitching. Tell her she's been taking you for granted, and now that she'll have to get off her lazy ass and get a job, maybe she'll realize how lucky she was to have a guy working hard to keep a roof over her ungrateful head!

I think you might be right.

Hell yeah, I'm right! Then you can divorce her while you're in prison, and make your own life. You can take college classes or write a book, and some of the prisons have animal care programs. With your veterinary experience, after you demonstrate good behavior in the system, they'll probably want you to work with the dogs. And get this…there's a whole bunch of women out there who love to write and visit nice guys who made one mistake in their life, but want to turn things around. How cool would it be to tell your ex-wife that you've got a girlfriend?

Wow. You really are my friend.

"Nice job, Nicky." Grissom gave a reassuring nod to Greg. "He's regained his trust."

Okay, we'll do it your way, but I'm not ready to leave yet. I want to enjoy my last hours of freedom hanging out with you. I promise I won't kill you, Nick.

Thank you for doin' that, Steve, I really feel a lot better now.

"Doing that?" Greg shook his head. "Saying that would have made more sense or promising, but doing?"

Grissom had found the phrase odd as well. "I wonder if he unlocked the cuffs."

Tell me the rest of the Pittsburgh story. I want to hear about your big night with Greta.

Okay, but not the really long version, because pretty soon I'm gonna have to pee and you'll need to uncuff me, because I don't want to walk outside with piss pants.

"He's still cuffed." Grissom's brow knitted. "Maybe he unlocked one to make him more comfortable?"

"Maybe he put down the gun or better yet, maybe he took the bullets out."

Did you piss your pants in the coffin?

Yeah, that situation literally scared the piss out of me, but I told everyone that pissin' in my pants was a strategic move to keep the ants away from my parts, which it thankfully did, 'cause I think it would have been easier to pull the trigger if my pecker was gettin' gnawed off and stung. Luckily I had taken a dump right before gettin' kidnapped, because squritin' in my shorts woulda been a lot harder to justify.

"The edginess is gone again." Hearing Steve's laughter put Greg at ease. "That's a relief, huh?"

"Our tactical support has been redirected," Grissom blurted, once Greg was relaxed again.

"What?!"

"There's a domestic violence situation a few miles from here and they were rerouted. Nick will need to ride this out a little longer."

"Okay, fine. I'm not worried." He said it out loud to convince himself.

"Good, because…" The ring of his cell phone put a smile on Grissom's face. "I hope it's the Sheriff, because I'm really in the mood to rip…the Caller ID says it's Dan Sanders with a California area code."

"Why would my father be…oh, shit." Seeing the TV vans gave him his answer. "The media must be reporting a CSI is being held hostage. My mom keeps the Vegas news website up 24/7 and I've been ignoring her calls to listen to Nick." He scrambled for his cell. "Tell him I'm calling her right now! But tell him not to tell her that it took a call to you to get me to call her back! I'll be in the Denali!"

"You're thirty years old, Greg! I think it's about time you stop lying to your mommy!" Remembering he had told a very distraught Mr. and Mrs. Sanders they could call him anytime they were worried about their son, he was happy to answer the phone with some good news. "Grissom…yes, he's fine, he's off to find a private spot to call his mother right now…I completely understand after what she's been through….really, it' not a problem, that's why I gave you my card when we spoke at the hospital."

"Gregory!" Leaning against the marble-topped island in her sunny California kitchen, Connie Sanders pressed the phone to her ear to cherish the sound of her son's voice.

"I'm fine, Mom."

"Oh, thank God you're okay. I'm tracking the news on the Vegas TV station website. It looks like all hell is breaking loose in there."

"Yeah. Sorry for worrying you."

Covering the receiver, the relieved mother smiled at her parents who were seated at the table holding hands. "He's fine." Just then her husband returned to the kitchen. "Greg's on the line. He's okay."

Dan Sanders smiled at his wife and didn't tell her that his call to Grissom prompted their son to finally reply to her frantic voice mails. "I told you not to worry."

"Mom…"

"Sorry, I was just telling your father and Nana and Papa that you're alright."

"It's Nick. The CSI hostage is Nick."

"Oh God." Connie's tension returned with a vengeance. "Nick's the hostage," she whispered to the rest of the family.

"He's gonna be fine. He's already got the guy talking to him like they've been best buddies for years. We don't have visual contact, but we snuck in a wire and are able to listen in on what's happening inside the house. The guy's promised not to shoot him and I believe him."

Clutching her head, the troubled mother closed her eyes. "Well, if anyone can get out of a tight spot, it's Nick. I have complete faith that he'll be okay."

"From what I've heard him saying on the wire, I think we might be okay too. He misses the way things were, Mom."

Connie shook her head. "Greg, you…"

"Don't. There's still a chance he could get injured or killed and if you say anything bad about him and something happens…it might be hard to forgive you."

"Sweetheart, I was just going to say…" Thinking of her son's words, she opted to lie. "You have just given me an even better reason to fight to get Prop 8 overturned! In case you re-propose and Nick re-accepts, and the two of you want to re-plan a ceremony for July 2009 just like we were planning for July 2008, I want to make sure you have the legal right to call it a marriage."

Rubbing his temples, Dan looked at his in-laws. "Here we go again." When the elderly couple started clutching their heads and whispering in Norwegian, a language he never could grasp, he heaved a painful sigh and sat at the table with them. "Yeah, I completely agree with you."

Connie continued to front a sunny tone, "My PFLAG mother's group is coordinating a huge protest for this weekend and the news of yet another trauma-induced reunion between you and Nick will give me the motivation I need to make the demonstration a huge success. I'm sure we'll make it onto MSNBC, I've been emailing that adorable lesbian Rachel Maddow asking her to cover it on her show. I wonder if my 'mother of the grooms' dress still fits? I'm so happy for you, sweetie. I really think it will work out this time."

"Don't ever commit a crime, mom, you're a terrible liar."

Deciding to drop the act, the concerned mother snipped, "I'm also the person who had to glue you back together after Warrick Brown died and Nick decided a good follow up to that tragedy would be to break your heart."

"Mom…"

"When you were here sobbing in my arms, your exact words were 'If I'm ever stupid enough to want to get back together with him again, remind me why I hate him.' All I'm guilty of is being a loving mother who is doing exactly what she promised her heartbroken son she would do. So here is your reminder, Gregory…that bastard looked you in the eyes and said he felt less suffocated in that coffin than he did living with you." It killed her to think anyone could say something so callous to her little boy, no less Nick, a man she welcomed into her home and treated like her own son. "If you really think about it, he said life with you is worse than being buried alive and nearly stung to death by fire ants. And when you cried and asked him to apologize for saying something so hurtful, his reply was 'I'm sorry…I can't go through with the ceremony' and then he walked out the door."

"He was messed up from losing Warrick. The shrink I'm seeing told me that considering his past, Nick was probably scared of losing me too, so he decided to push me away before he could lose me. She thinks that's what he's been doing all along – self sabotage. It really makes sense if you…"

"Honey, it does make sense, it's what I've been telling you for free for years." Flicking tears from her cheeks, Connie spoke from her aching heart, "I know Nick loves you and wants desperately to have a life with you, but he's one of those tragic people who are damaged beyond repair and incapable of living with, freely loving, or committing to you or anyone. There's always going to be something that scares him off or freaks him out. Always. If the three breakups you've already suffered through weren't enough to prove that to you, I'm sure I can't, but I feel obligated to try because you turned thirty years old this year and you've waited for him long enough. No matter what he says or needs after this trauma, you can't enable him, you have to say no. No talking, no hugging, no kissing, no cooking for him, nothing except saying that you can't hop on the rollercoaster again. Promise me."

"Not everyone is meant to have a spouse, a kid, a safe job, and a house in The Valley, Mom…and broken people need to be loved even if they're incapable of returning it normally. I lived twenty-eight years of my life before anything truly bad happened to me, Nick was nine when he got molested and he hasn't caught a break since. While he's lived most of his life fearing the loss of his family's love, I have never known anything but unconditional love from mine. So if I only get to be insanely happy every other year from here on out, I'm still way ahead of Nick and a ton of other broken people in this screwed up world.

Blowing her nose, Connie blamed herself for her son's inability to give up on lost causes. "I really curse the day I encouraged you to read Gandhi and started taking you to help serve at the soup kitchen to help the needy."

"I love you, Mom. I need to get back to the scene now."

"Call me when Nick's safe."

"I will. Bye."

"Bye," she replied, a beat too late.

"What's going on?" the worried husband asked when his wife slammed the phone down. "Nick's the hostage?"

"Yes," she snapped. "But he'll be fine.

Dan glared at his spouse. "You say that like you'd rather have him die."

"Are you kidding me!? The only thing that could be worse than having my son pine after Stokes would be for him to be haunted by his ghost for the rest of his life." Connie grabbed a wine glass. "Nick has to live or the spell will never be broken."

Watching his overly emotional daughter pour a glass of Pinot Grigio in the middle of the day, Papa Olaf counseled, "Connie, you can't choose who your child loves…and you should be thankful for that, or you wouldn't be married to Danny-boy here. We thought he was a loser from the second we met him and when you told us you wanted to marry the deadbeat…" He laughed with his wife. "We thought he'd never amount to anything and we'd be supporting the two of you for the rest of your lives."

"Yeah." Dan patted his father-in-law on the back. "I went from borrowing rent money from you to paying cash for 6,000 square feet in the Valley, inviting you to live with us, and watching my boy graduate from Stanford. So much for your family's supposed psychic abilities, huh?"

Connie redirected the trip down memory lane. "And how is Greg using that Stanford education? Is he finding a cure for cancer or writing papers that could change the world? No! Thanks to Nick, he was inspired to put his life on the line playing CSI and he spends his free time penning books on mob history, because when he was telling Nick an Old Vegas story one night, the cowboy said 'that story would make a great book'."

"He's fighting a different kind of cancer, Connie." Nana Olaf reasoned with her stubborn and sometimes selfish daughter. "He's battling a societal cancer – violent crime. We know for sure Stanley Tanner is alive because of Greg, who knows how many others have lived because of who he helped put behind bars? You should be proud of him and stop trying to change his path. He's right where he's supposed to be, because if the Lord wanted him to working in a research lab, he'd be there."

"Mothers of four can afford to have a child working in a dangerous occupation," Connie cried, her own baggage haunting her, "but I'm a mother of one, and the price is too steep."

The irritated father lectured, "I told you to let him play sports, Constance. If he had been able to experience even one hour of risk during his childhood, he probably wouldn't be craving it day and night. Even with scouts, you had to be the Den Mother." The 71 year old shook his finger at his son-in-law. "You should have forced her to let him play hockey."

"I've never forced your daughter to do anything against her will and you should be happy about that, old man."

"Hockey would have made that boy tough." The former player pumped his fists. "He wouldn't have gotten his ass kicked if he had played hockey. He could have fought back like a man instead of using his truck." He returned to chiding his daughter, "And he wouldn't be gay if he played hockey, because girls like to be poked by hockey players and he would've knocked up a beauty at seventeen like I did." He winked at his wife. "He'd be married and you'd have grandbabies by now, but no…you had to coddle him and wipe his nose until he left for college."

Annoyed with her father, she shouted, "Quick, Dan! Call James Dobson and tell him he can relax, because my father has found the cure to homosexuality. If all pre-pubescent boys start playing hockey today, eventually the world will be straight as an arrow and overpopulated with high school dropouts and unplanned children!

"Honey…"

"It's not fair, Dan!" Connie refocused on her original point. "Nick's parents have six other children. Six perfectly straight, grandbaby-producing children, but I have one son and he can't have happiness, because he loves their closeted gay boy, who they pretty much ignore save his birthday, Christmas, and kidnappings! So what if they disown him? They have six breeders that fit their tidy little conservative mold and I will be happy to be Nick's new mommy, frankly I already think I've been more of mother to him in the last four years than his own has."

"Now it's Nick's parents fault that Greg isn't happily married?" Dan stated, knowing his wife was spiraling out of control.

"Yes! Until Nick can tell his parents he's gay, he can't settle down with Greg, and he's never going to tell them because he believes they'll disown him, which means Greg is going to live in 'love limbo' with Nick the rest of his god-damn life!"

"Watch your mouth, Constance!"

"I'm 54, Dad! I can say whatever the hell I want to in my own fucking house! If you don't like it, there's a dreary room at Shady Acres waiting for you and they don't allow pets, so Skippy, Twitch, and Carmen Miranda will be out on the street thumbing their way to the Humane Society!"

"Time out!" Dan stepped between the hot-headed Norse man and his equally confrontational daughter. "Neither of you can change a thing about the past, and you both know that. Old man, you know she gets like this every time she thinks of the babies we lost and you know it just makes the pain worse when you accuse her of mis-parenting Greg – so stop it. Connie, you know your father is right, the hockey cure for homosexuality being the exception – so let's drop this pointless arguing and move on. I'm hungry and I need more shelving for my office. Who wants to go to IKEA?"

The senior citizens leapt out of their chairs.

"Yeah, I knew you lingonberry lovers would be joining me."

"We can't go to IKEA. We have to wait for Greg to call!"

"No, we don't," the hip 69 year old grandmother informed her daughter, "He'll text your Blackberry if you're not home."

"You're really going?"

"Yes," the trio answered in perfect unison, having decided long ago to stop enabling Connie's preoccupation with her son's safety.

Dropping his arm around his father-in-law's shoulders, Dan parroted the phrase he used to hear coming out of the old man's mouth three decades ago, "Always up for a free meal, aren't ya? Freeloading slacker."

"I don't have time for lunch anyway!" Connie shouted to the closing door. With the cordless phone in her hand, the unnerved mother marched off for her office to check email and make more protest signs. "I have a demonstration to coordinate!"

Walking down the hall full of family photos, Connie's emotions got the best of her again. "I just want you to be happy, Greg." Staring at her son's Kindergarten portrait, she cried. I know you don't believe me, but I really can live without grandchildren, but I can't live with you being miserable every other year. But you're not five anymore and I can't show up on the playground to fix things for you. As much as I hate to admit it, your Papa Olaf is right, I should have let you swing as high as you wanted and run as fast as you could go…but I was just too afraid of losing you.

Falling silent, she stared at the little boy in the photo and longed for the return of his carefree smile. You're forever changed. How could you not be after seeing what you've seen in the field? Her thoughts again turned to what she could do to help the situation, but she came up blank…until a plane flew over the house. Everything I do, right or wrong, is because I love you, Greg. Punching in the numbers on the telephone, she told herself it was the only thing to do. "It's time to force the issue," she muttered on her way to the master bedroom. If he won't do what should have been done years ago, I will. You'll both hate me for it, but I'm confident you'll both thank me one day, because no matter what happens, I'll have ended the prolonged agony that indecision and stagnation bring. By the time she stepped into her walk-in closet, she felt at peace with her decision. I am going to look my fear of losing you right in the eye and…The cheery voice of a customer service operator interrupted her mental pep talk.

"Thank you for choosing Southwest Airlines, this is Glenda speaking, how may I help you today?"

Grabbing her weekender bag, Connie anxiously replied, "I need to book a flight for this afternoon."

"From which airport, ma'am?"

"LAX."

"And your destination city?"

"Dallas."

ANs:

And Nick already thought he was having a bad day.

LOL It wouldn't be a Maggs story if there wasn't a hefty dose of family dysfunction! For anyone who has read my other two series – this version of Greg's mom still retains that vehemently overprotective mother flaw, and is excessively emotional when it comes to her little boy, but you'll see she's not insane like Bev Sanders or invasively pushy like Jan Sanders. Connie will display what Bev and Jan both lacked when it came to dealing with other people – patience, good judgment, and tact! Within her own slightly crazy family though, she freely states whatever is on her mind without a verbal filter. Dan Sanders isn't a clueless third wheel like Scott Sanders, and he's not uptight and slightly distant like Dave Sanders, he's been equally involved in his household and is the more carefree/jokester of the bunch.

Thanks for sticking with the story! I haven't been able to reply to comments from the last few chapters, because I was busy this weekend, but thanks to everyone who left one, especially about the last chapter, because that one was one of my favorites to write and it was great to know I wasn't the only one who enjoyed it : )

Hopefully just a couple of days until the next chappie is up!

Take care,

Maggs