Chapter Eight

Author Note: I've decided to make a few changes. This will be the last chapter of this story. I will however continue the series in story two of my Journeys series. Another change I made was to now use -0- as my new scene indicator.Please e-mail me if you have any questions/concerns/comments. Enjoy.

-0-

"So, now that you've found Martin, what do we do next?" Greg's question was innocently posed as the young man was childishly bouncing on the bed. Gil chuckled softly as he watched the pure joy on his protegee's face.

"We get to New York undetected." He responded after a long moment. Gil desperately wanted to stay here with Greg for as long as possible. He wanted to protect the younger man, keep his smile bright and cheerful for as long as possible.

"Somehow," Greg's voice cut into Gil's thoughts as he bounced up on last time and angled himself toward the older man, counting on Gil to catch him. He did so, swinging Greg around once, holding the lab tech's body tightly against his own for a minute.

"I'm guessing that's going to be harder then it sounds." Greg finished as he slowly pulled out of Gil's arms. The two men methodically checked the room one last time before heading towards the door.

"It will be." Gil paused, waiting for Greg to catch up to him. "I just thought of something."

"What?"

"Giovanni saw what we were wearing, right?"

"Yeah, well, he saw my clothes at least."

"Alright, lets get out of the city and then we'll go shopping." Gil said as they exited the room and locked the hotel door. He'd checked out earlier that day so they started toward the car.

"What's the next stop?"

"Well, we'll head out west toward California first. I have a PO box in Los Angeles with some money in it."

"How much?"

"$18,000" At that Greg stopped short. Gil, sensing that Greg had stopped, turned to look at him, confusion apparent on his face.

"How the heck did you get that much money stored away?"

"I'm from New York,right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"I used to work on Wall Street." Gil said nonchalantly as he once again turned and headed towards the car. Greg stood there, gaping, as Gil walked on.

"Just how much don't I know about you" Greg muttered as he ran to catch up.

"A lot apparently." Gil replied once they were both within the confines of the small vehicle.

The drive out of the city was quiet, each man lost in his own thoughts. Greg momentarily considered asking Gil more about his past. He quickly rejected the idea, deciding that he didn't want any more bombshells to be dropped today. Maybe later, once he got used to this new Gil, but now he was still trying to process the facts before him.

Gil wasn't different. He still liked bugs and books. He still listened to Mozart and raced cockroaches. That man was still exactly the same. The change came with the level of openness that Gil had with him. He laughed and smiled more. Real, beautiful, smiles that Greg rarely saw and even more rarely caused.

On the other side if the car, Gil was quiet for a rather similar reason. He was trying to figure out how to bridge the gap between them. He desperately wanted to reach out to Greg, to tell him everything about his past, but something inside him forced Gil not to. The small city was steadily decreasing as both men went further and further into the west.

-0-

Martin's eyes scanned across the crowded café again. He couldn't help it. He was nervous, something he hadn't felt for quite awhile now. This was a huge risk he was taking, facing his past again for the first time in years.

Exhaling loudly, Martin turned back around to face the bar. Right then a large, warm hand settled on his shoulder, causing Martin to spin around and nearly loose his footing. Taking deep, calming breaths Martin looked up into warm brown eyes.

"Detective! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Martin growled at a chuckling Lenny Briscoe.

"Of course not. I just needed some entertainment, that's all. Come on, lets get a table, I'm starved."

As the two men made their way over to an empty table Lenny snagged two menus from a passing waiter. Their orders was both taken and delivered promptly, much to Martin's relief, and soon Lenny started to explain the urgency of this meeting.

For the next twenty minutes Lenny explained about the shooting and Gil's subsequent departure from New York. Then he explained that one of his old beat-buddies had seen Giovanni near LA. Last, but not least, he mentioned that the search conducted at the Las Vegas crime lab had raised several red flags on a few computers, his included. What he didn't say, didn't need to say, was that if it raised a flag on his computer, chances were high that it had raised a flag on Giovanni's networks as well.

And that was bad. Very bad.

It meant that Giovanni now knew where Gil was, especially since he was the only man who would ever run that particular DNA sequence in relation to a case. If Giovanni knew where Gil was, chances were that he'd also know where to go to find him.

It also meant that Martin was going to LA.

-0-

"Ok...Yeah, thanks Julie. I'll be right in."

With that Gil turned around and hung up the pay phone. Exiting the booth, he quickly located Greg and the car, both parked about thirty feet away. Close enough to watch over, but far enough away to give him some semblance of privacy on the busy street. Smiling at his friend's logic, Gil wandered over toward the car and got in.

"Well?"

"Everything's all ready. We can go pick up the money now."

"Now? Isn't that a little, I don't know, fast?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Funny, Gil."

"I try, but you're right. It does seem too convenient."

"So we don't go, right?"

"Right. I'll go while you wait in the car for a quick get-away."

"I don't like that plan. You're the one he wants, not me. If you go in, alone, he can kill you and I'd be none-the-wiser."

"Good point, so, we'll go in together."

"Yeah, ready?"

"Not really, but..."

"I understand."

And he did. Greg completely understood what Gil felt, and he hated the fact that there was nothing he could do to help ease the older man's pain. He was nervous, afraid of what would happen next. Both men knew that having 18k, in cash, ready in ten minutes was shady. Years later he would say that everything about that bank was shady.

Years later Greg still wouldn't be able to tell you how he'd gotten into the car. He wouldn't be able to explain how they got to the bank or even describe what it looked like. He couldn't tell you how long they had to wait or how many stares they'd gotten, sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs holding each other's hand for solace.

Years later Greg would only be able to tell you two things: what kind of candy was in the large fish bowl on the manager's desk and the look of pure agony that covered Gil's face when he was shot.

Author's note II: We won't be able to update this story for awhile. If you'll all be kind enough to put this story on your story alertsyou will be e-mailed when I can finish it. Especially for those of you without accounts, please check the reviews for messages from us about the progress of our stories; this is now effective for all of them. Our thanks and apologies,

Renee and Serene