Title: Sleep

Author: Ailendolin

Rating: T … I think …

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or anything that affliated to it. The only thing I know of this little story is the plot, even thought I wish I would own Greggo … but, unfortunately, I don't.

Summary: Going on after an explosion can be impossible when you're alone, but Greg isn't. NickGreg One-Shot after PwF and ItB

Spoilers: Play With Fire and Inside The Box

Warnings: Slash and a little angst

Author's Notes: Hi there! Uhm, well, I really do not have much to say about this little story. It just came to me a few days ago and the little plot bunny didn't leave me alone. So I had to write it down to get it to back off ;-) But I want to let you all know that English is not my native language. I'm from Germany and this is my first try to write an english story, though it is not the first fanfiction I have written. So please excuse if there are (and there definitely are) mistakes in grammar or stuff like that. If anyone wants to beta this, no problem. It would be great.
Okay, another thing to say is that this is the first CSI Fanfiction I have ever written. I am not excactly new to this fandom, but I wasn't really a fan either until recently when I watched the episode "Play with Fire" and saw poor Greg there getting thrown through a glass wall. So bear with me if a few things are not excactly right.
Enough talking g I really hope this story isn't too bad and maybe one or two enjoyed reading it. Don't forget to tell me how it is. I really look forward to getting one or two reviews )
Enjoy!

Sleep

Sleep. He hated it. Sleeping meant letting your guard down. Memories would be able to break through the mask of indifference he made sure to put on when awake. Sleep meant loosing control over himself, which he didn't do when he wasn't asleep.

Simple logic, but not simple to follow. Dark circles under his eyes were a constant reminder of the much needed rest he refused to give his body. The team was worried about him. They didn't need to voice it, he easily could see it on their faces. It was so clearly written on them he would have laughed out loud had he not known that they were genuinly concerned. He knew he looked like hell, but he didn't care. All he cared about was his mask he so easily could put in place.

It's really all about masks, he thinks while staring at the ceiling. In a few days, he knew, his friends and co-workers would stop giving him those worried looks and stop asking if he was alright. They would go on as if nothing ever happened. After all, life goes on, lab explosion or not. But he knew he would never forget it. Everytime he closed his eyes he could smell it: Burning plastic. He couldn't seem to get it out of his nose and it slowly drove him insane.

He didn't know how he survived his first day back at the lab. The looks he could take and ignore, even long talks with friends he could avoid, but what he couldn't escape from was that smell. It had been in the hospital a constant reminder of what had happened, just like the burns on his back and neck and at home it seemed to surround him even more. But his first day back at the lab had gone horrible. He hadn't thought it would be that bad to stand in front of his precious chemicals again while seeing and hearing the process of repair in his old lab through glass walls. Glass walls … He had forced himself to look away from the damage and chaos. His hands were shaking as he looked at the fume hood instead. Panic rose in his chest and he had to make sure it was off and he was safe.

He sighed and looked out of the window. He was afraid to go back to work the next day. The thought of being in the lab again surrounded by glass walls sent shivers down his spine. It was almost too much for him to take. His world had come crashing down within mere seconds in form of an explosion he never saw coming and thought he wouldn't survive. There was a time he felt nowhere safer than when he was in his lab, playing "Name that chemical compound" with Nick or singing along while listening to his precious music, all the while analyzing DNA samples for the CSIs. But now he was frightened he could make a mistake and fire would be all around him again. He was afraid to let the fume hood out of his eye and double-checked everything before he even took a bottle in his hand. It was slowing his work down and even though he had told Grissom that it wouldn't affect his work he knew it was a lie when it had left his mouth. There was no way he could control his panic attacks or the shaking of his hands. He had told himself numerous of times that he was being silly and that everything was alright and that he had no reason to worry and be so jumpy. Needless to say, it didn't work. Marilyn Manson hadn't sounded in the lab since the explosion.

He looked down at his hands laying flat on his stomach. They were still shaking and he wondered when or if they would stop eventually. Two other hands laid themselves upon his trembling ones and hold them in place. Warm thumbs gently caressed his skin and he locked eyes with the other man lying next to him.
"Greg … you need to sleep."
He shook his head no and Nick sighed upon seeing the flash of panic in the younger man's eyes.
"C'mere …"
Gently he took the trembling form of Greg into his arms, hugging him close and slowly drawing circles onto his back, cautiously aware of the sensitive flesh in some parts. He felt Greg stiffen, than slowly relaxing and a moment later there were tears dampening his shirt. A small smile planted itself on his lips and he closed his eyes, laying with Greg in his arms down and pulling the blanket over both of them. Tears were a good sign. The past few days Greg had not been himself and Nick knew he had bottled up his feelings and pretty much ignored them and the explosion. He didn't know why he was now giving in to the pain, but he was relieved Greg finally did.
"Please Nick … don't make me fall asleep."
Greg's quiet, pleading voice got through the muffled sobs and Nick held him tighter.
"It will be there again … It will burn me!"
"No, Greg, it won't …", Nick replied soothingly.
"I'm here, you're not alone with this."
Greg's sobs lessened and a moment later he locked eyes with Nick.
"I don't want to experience it again. Burning plastic … I can still smell it, Nick! Make it go away, please …"
Greg's eyes reminded Nick of a puppy's eyes, who had been abandoned by his family. He vowed to himself to never let Greg face any of his fears alone.
"I can't make it go away, but I can be here for you. I am here to wake you from your nightmares and help you through it. Please trust me, Greg."
Greg slowly nodded and rested his head on Nick's chest.
"I do trust you …"
His reply was barely audible, but Nick catched it nonetheless, his fingers gently stroking Greg's hair.
"Thank you … now go to sleep. I will be here to watch over you."
A yawn fought it's way to the surface and Greg could do nothing to prevent it from coming out. Tired eyes were closed and it became silent in the bedroom. Nick continued to stroke the partly spiked hair of the young man lying in his arms.
"Love you, Nick …"
Greg's words were a whisper heavy with sleep and Nick smiled down at the steadily breathing form in his arms.
"Love you too, Greg … Sweet dreams."
Greg smiled slightly into Nick's shirt and made himself more comfortable. It was the first time since the incident he felt relatively safe and it was all due to Nick being there. He knew the nightmares would come, but suddenly they didn't seem so scary and terrible anymore with Nick at his side. He would overcome them with Nick's help, that he was sure.

A few days later Marilyn Mason sounded in the lab again.

The end