Title: Notes

Chapter 4

Greg leans against the wall and watches Nick stalk down the hall toward the exit. That stubborn guy makes no sense. All Greg asked is if Nicky wanted to go to a sports bar. You'd think he asked Nick to jump into a tank of piranhas. Shaking his head, Greg trudges toward the ballistics lab.

When Greg reaches ballistics, he stops just outside the door, takes a deep breath, and then walks in to meet Sara and Bobby. "Hey guys," Greg says.

Both Bobby and Sara glance up. Bobby smiles broadly and drawls, "Hey, Greg. Looks like you've got two shooters. Or two guns, anyway."

Greg leans against the counter and glances from Sara to Bobby. "So, two guns. We didn't find anything else that indicated the presence of two shooters."

"Well, that may be," Bobby says patiently. "But there were two guns."

"We believe you," Sara grins. Turning to Greg, she asks, "Hey, did Nick go home?"

Shrugging, Greg says, "That's where he said he was headed."

Bobby frowns. "He pull a double again?"

"Nah," Greg says. "He just worked a few hours over." Turning to Sara, Greg asks, "So, where to now, Sara?"

Sara cocks her head. "Well, I guess we should go back to the garage and take another look at that car. You up for that?"

Greg grins. "Me, you, alone in a car? I'm up for it!"

Sara shakes her head, smiling slightly. "Well, I'll go change and meet you down there."

"Cool," Greg says. After Sara ambles out the door, Greg leans against the counter and stares at Bobby. "Hey, man," he says, rubbing at a smudge on the countertop. "You see Nick today?"

Bobby shakes his head. "Nope. Warrick handled their bullet."

Greg licks his lips. "Well, can I ask your advice about something?"

"Shoot!" Bobby says. Then he breaks into a grin.

Greg smiles slightly. "Cute," he says. "All right. Here's what happened," Greg says. "I asked Nick if he wanted to hang out this weekend, and he went all theatric on me."

"Define theatric."

"Well," Greg says, "He acted like he was mad that I'd want to spend time with him."

Bobby looks reflective for a moment. Finally, he crosses his arms and says, "Why do think he'd act like that?"

"I'm asking you."

Bobby releases a long breath and gazes at him in a way that kind of reminds Greg of his mother.

Before Bobby can respond, though, Grissom pokes his head into the room and snaps, "Greg. I've been paging you for a half an hour."

Greg winces. "Sorry, Grissom," he says. "Sara and I kind of got caught up here."

Grissom raises his eyebrows. "Well, I saw Sara headed down to the garage."

"And I'm about to join her," Greg says, biting his bottom lip and rocking back and forth on his heels.

"No, Greg, you're joining me," Grissom says, gesturing for Greg to follow. "C'mon."

Greg glances plaintively at Bobby, but Bobby just shrugs. Slumping his shoulders, Greg trudges out the door after Grissom.

Nick finds himself walking through the woods, flashlight in hand. As he moves among the trees, he wonders why the bark looks so strange. So he moves closer and shines his flashlight on one of the trees. Red? The bark is red. It shouldn't be red. He should take a piece back to the lab. Dutifully, he pulls out a knife and slices into the tree. Then, like always, he hears a scream…

With a silent shriek, Nick jerks up in bed, clutching his chest. He can feel his heart racing beneath his fingers, and he can feel his lungs struggling for breath. Closing his eyes, Nick tries to stabilize his breathing. Breath, Stokes, he thinks. It's okay.

After a few minutes, Nick's lungs resume something close to their normal routine, and his heart, though still thumping hard, no longer feels like it's going to detonate. Shaking his head, Nick pulls himself out of bed and trudges to the bathroom. He flips on the bathroom light and grabs a washcloth out of the linen closet. Slumping over the sink, he cranks on the water, drenches the cloth, and then proceeds to mop the sweat off his face.

This is getting ridiculous, Nick thinks, as he yanks off his t-shirt.

He tosses the sweat-soaked shirt into an already-full laundry basket—time to do laundry, Nick muses—and pulls a clean t-shirt out of his dresser.

About then, he hears a knock at his front door. Nick glances over at the clock. 9 AM. Okay.

Nick tugs the t-shirt over his head as he stumbles out into the living room. With a jerk, Nick opens the door and narrows his eyes at his guest.

"What are you doing here, Greg?" Nick asks.

Greg shrugs. "Came here to see my buddy."

Frowning, Nick steps back to let Greg into the house. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Greg says. "Sara and I had kind of a rough night. We got nowhere with our carjacking case, and then Grissom kind of yelled at me because I didn't answer one of his pages." He glances around Nick's living room as if he's never been here before. Then, he toes off his shoes and pulls off his jacket

"Make yourself comfortable," Nick says.

"How about you? You get any sleep?" Greg asks.

Nick runs his fingers though his hair. "Not really. Three hours, maybe."

Greg reaches over and squeezes Nick's shoulder. "Did I wake you?"

Shrugging Greg's hand off his shoulder, Nick cocks his head at Greg. For a brief moment, he considers telling Greg that yes, he did wake him up. And he should be ashamed of himself. But instead, Nick says, "Nah, man. I was awake."

Greg walks over and snatches up a photo of Nick and his oldest sister. He gazes at the picture for a second, and then sets it gently on the shelf. "Bobby wanted to know if you're doing all right."

"So, you came over here for Bobby?" Nick asks.

"No," Greg says dramatically. "I came over here because I wanted to know if you were okay. You were acting a little weird today in the locker room."

Rolling his eyes, Nick licks his lips and laughs. "Because that could be the only reason I'd fail to fall to your charms."

"What charms?" Greg asks, throwing his hands out. "I asked you if you wanted to hang out."

"Whatever."

Greg takes a step closer to Nick. "Look, Nicky. I'm sorry."

Nick gazes at Greg. "For what?"

"For whatever you think I did," Greg says, caressing Nick's bottom lip with his knuckle.

Nick lets out a breath and walks back to the couch. "You're just here because you want to get laid," he says.

Greg watches Nick for a moment, and then strolls across the room and plunks himself down on the couch. "Don't be that way," he says quietly.

"I'm stating a fact, Greg," Nick says, twisting his body until he's facing away from Greg.

After a few moments, Greg places his hands on Nick's shoulders and starts to softly knead the muscles through Nick's t-shirt. Nick tries to fight the urge to lean into the massage, but fails miserably.

This is one of Greggo's favorite come-on techniques. Greg will work Nick's back and shoulders for a while, but Nick knows that soon, Greg's lips will find their way to his neck. Then, Greg's hands will find their way under Nick's shirt, and Nick's shirt will find itself tossed into a corner.

And Nick knows that his brain will disengage the second he feels Greg's breath on his throat.

And he knows he'll rationalize that letting Greg stay this one time won't be so bad. After all, Nick hasn't slept much in the last couple of weeks. And he sleeps better if somebody's with him.

So Greg will stay. Nick knows that. And Nick will regret this in the morning. He knows that, too.

Right now, though? Right now, all he can feel is Greg's breath on his throat.