Author's Note: I could say something now. But I won't. I'll update soon, cross my heart.

Chapter Sixteen: Explosive Situation

Nothing happened. For a moment, Nick thought he was dead. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was still breathing, that his heart was still pounding desperately against his ribcage as if in protest of his suicidal actions. He still felt the sweat on the back of his neck. He still felt the gun in his hand. And worst of all, Dr. Rupert Norris was still alive, and grinning at him, the trigger inches away from his nose.

"What…?" Nick began, frowning at his gun.

He pulled the trigger again. There was a dull click and nothing more. He pulled it again, and again, and again, becoming angry. Why wasn't his weapon obeying him? Had he made such a rookie mistake as to leave the safety on?

"I've heard that," Dr. Norris began helpfully, "with the war in Iraq, there is an ammunition shortage among the police department at home."

"I'm not out of ammo…" Nick said incredulously. But when he thought about it, he couldn't remember when he'd last loaded his gun. He'd shot a few rounds off at a target range that weekend with Warrick… Hadn't he reloaded? Hadn't he???

Nick began to panic now. He shook his head. "No…" he said. "No, I was going to kill you! I was going to kill both of us!"

"And what a noble, albeit stupid, act that would have been, too," Dr. Norris said with a small laugh as he brought the trigger down from his face. "Such a shame you don't know how to load your own gun."

Nick was still baffled. "But… I… dammit!" he cursed, throwing his useless firearm to the floor. No bullets. No bullets. What were the odds he would forget to reload his gun?

"If it makes a difference…" Dr. Norris said with a shrug. "I am impressed."

"Shut up," Nick said flatly, jaded. He sighed and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling as if asking some higher power why he had to deal with this moronic situation.

And then, his phone began to ring. He gave Dr. Norris an irritated look. "Can I answer that?"

Dr. Norris shrugged at him with open arms, his palms up. "By all means."

Shaking his head, still feeling like the world's grandest idiot, Nick answered his phone automatically. "Stokes," he said apathetically.

"Nicky?"

Her voice startled him into caring again. "Catherine?"

"Nick, are you OK? What's going on? Warrick says you're in there with a guy with a bomb strapped to his chest?!"

"Yeah, I think that about covers it," Nick said with a sigh.

"Well you don't sound too torn up about it," Catherine said, sounding annoyed.

"Believe me, if you'd called thirty seconds ago, I would have sounded fifty times more nervous," Nick replied. "As it is, I'm just pissed."

"What do we do?"

"Don't send Greg in here," Nick said firmly, speaking more to Dr. Norris then to Catherine.

"What? But Warrick said that's what—"

"Exactly," Nick said. "It's what he wants. He wants to kill Greg. So whatever the hell you do, do not let him in here."

"But then how do we let you out?" Catherine asked.

"I'm working on it," Nick replied.

"That's reassuring," Catherine said sarcastically.

Nick had to smile. "It's good to hear your voice, Cath," he said honestly. "Really."

"Nick, I…" She sounded at a loss for words. "I… want you to be OK."

"That'd be nice," Nick said, nodding, his heart lurching at the worry in her voice.

"It would be really nice," Catherine said.

"Is Sara OK?" Nick asked.

"She'll be alright, I think," Catherine replied. "She was shot in her right shoulder. But she's a fighter. She'll pull through. I… I think. To be honest, right now I'm more worried about you. We all want you out of there unharmed. We don't want any more lives lost today."

"That would definitely be ideal," Nick said, though he doubted it would happen.

"So tell me what I can do," Catherine said. "Tell me how we can help you."

"You can help him," Dr. Norris called loudly across the room, "by sending in Greg Sanders."

"Nick, who was that?" Catherine asked. "Was that him?"

Nick swallowed. "Uh… yeah, that was him," Nick said. "Listen, Catherine… You send Greg in, he'll just kill us both. We have the upper hand here. So long as he doesn't have Greg, he won't kill me."

"You're lying," Dr. Norris said in a sing song voice. "Tell her the truth, Nicholas."

He licked his lips again. They tasted salty from the sweat. He pursed his lips. "That is the truth," he said at last.

"Nick, you smacked your lips, you only do that when you lie," Catherine said.

"Jesus, does everyone know that?!" Nick exclaimed, laughing out of sheer frustration.

"What's going on?" Catherine asked firmly. "What's he talking about? What does he want?"

Nick sighed. "OK, Catherine… if you don't send Greg… He'll kill me instead."

Catherine was quiet for a long time. "And if we do send in Greg, he'll kill you both."

"I think that's the plan," Nick said nodding.

"I will not," Dr. Norris said loudly. "You have my word that Nicholas will leave here unharmed if you give me Greg Sanders."

"The word of a sociopath, what's that good for?" Nick spat at Dr. Norris. He turned back to his phone. "Listen, Cath, I've put a lot of thought into this. I'm not going to risk the both of us. And I'm not going to let Greg make that choice either, so please don't tell him."

"Nick, I…" There was noise on the other end of the line. Catherine sighed, sounding defeated, lost. "Nicky…"

"I mean it, Catherine," Nick said. "You can't send Greg in here."

"Nick…"

"I'll figure a way out of this," Nick interrupted, having the feeling she would protest. "Just don't tell him."

"But Nick—"

"Tell him there was nothing he could have done," Nick said.

"Nick!" Catherine said firmly. "It's too late." She was crying now. He could hear it. "He's already gone."

Nick froze. "What?"

"He's gone, he was listening and now he's gone, he's gone in the building, Nick, I couldn't—"

He hung up on her. He stared at Dr. Norris, who was smiling at him in his irritatingly smug fashion.

"When he gets here, you're free to go," Dr. Norris said casually.

"I'm also free to stay," Nick said.

"And what good will that do, Nicholas? Kill you both?" Dr. Norris asked. "Take a page out of Greg's book and abandon your younger brother."

"He was ten years old!" Nick snarled. "He was scared!"

"And you're not?" Dr. Norris asked.

Nick didn't have the chance to reply. The door to the interrogation room opened and Greg slowly stepped into view, his gun drawn and trained on Dr. Norris, his face inscrutable, and yet somehow hardened. But Nick saw his hands shaking. Dr. Norris had brought his trigger hand right in front of his face again.

"Nick," Greg said coolly, his eyes never leaving Dr. Norris. "Get out of here."

"Greg—"

"Trust me when I tell you we have it covered," Greg snapped authoritatively, sounding much older than he was. Nick was almost intimidated by the younger man.

"I'm not going to let you kill yourself," Nick said.

"Thanks, Nick," Greg said. "When I plan on overdosing or slitting my wrists, you'll be the first person I call. Now get the hell out of here."

"He's going to kill you, Greg!" Nick said angrily.

"Not today he's not," Greg said, his eyes on Dr. Norris.

"He always was a naïve child," Dr. Norris said, shaking his head. "Always in denial."

"I wasn't talking to you," Greg growled. He looked at Nick, and his expression softened. "Nick… Nick, you've gotta trust me. Please."

Nick hesitated, but saw the desperation in Greg's eyes. A tear escaped his own as he began to feel nauseous for betraying his friend, even if his friend was ordering Nick to betray him. "I tried to stop this, Greg. Believe me, I did."

"He did," Dr. Norris vouched.

"If I recall, you weren't a part of this conversation," Greg snapped at Dr. Norris. He turned back to Nick. "You, I'll deal with later. And I promise there will be a later. But for now, just listen to me."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to make promises you can't keep?" Dr. Norris asked. "Oh, wait. Your mother didn't speak to you for two whole years."

Nick saw Greg's teeth clench. "Get out of here, Nick. This is between me and him now."

It felt like he was trying to walk on Jupiter his feet were so heavy. He had to drag them to the door and every step felt like death. Though he was actually walking away from it, Nick imagined he was walking towards his own execution. In reality, he was signing his friend's death certificate.

Or so he thought.

Nick reached the door and gave one last look at Greg before vanishing out of sight behind it.

Greg's breathing was steady and he tried to get his hands to mimic it. They were still shaking against his will.

"What's it going to take for you to get that damn trigger out of your face?" Greg snapped.

"When you lower your weapon away from my head, I'll lower mine," Dr. Norris replied. "How much does it really matter? We'll both die soon anyway."

"Don't you have anything to say first?" Greg asked, not lowering his gun.

"I wanted to thank you," Dr. Norris began. "For—"

"You know what?" Greg interrupted, lowering his gun. "I don't actually want to hear it."

Dr. Norris lowered the trigger away from his face. "Are you ready to die, Greg?"

The smallest, smuggest smile appeared on Greg's lips. "No," he said. "Are you?"

Dr. Norris's thumb moved to the trigger. Greg took a deep breath.

"Fire."

There was a shattering of glass and a grunt from Dr. Norris as his brains were splattered across the walls. Greg looked over his shoulder at the shattered, one-way glass, behind which stood two members of the S.W.A.T. team, their sniper rifles still raised. They lowered them and three members of the bomb squad swarmed into the room past Greg to the dead Dr. Norris in order to disarm the bomb. Behind the glass, still looking pale and a little shaken, stood Nick in the corner as he shook his head. Their eyes met. Greg's eyes narrowed, his heart racing as his emotions flared. He shook his head before walking into the room behind the glass, his eyes deadly. Nick approached him and they were feet apart before Greg launched himself at his friend, knocking him to the ground as he punched him in the stomach.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" Greg was yelling wildly, somewhere between laughing and crying hysterically.

"Whoa!" Nick said, catching Greg's wrists as they swung in the air. "Whoa, Greg, stop!"

When Nick had finally caught hold of Greg's hands, he was able to discern from the tears running down his friend's face that he was actually crying. He was panting heavily, his face livid with fury as he glared at Nick.

"I told you I'd deal with you," Greg snapped. "What the hell were you thinking? You should have known we had professionals, you should have known we would have allbeen listening to Catherine's call, you should have known we would have been able to come up with a better plan than you blowing yourself up! Were you born without a brain or has it just stopped working after years of disuse?!"

Greg closed his eyes tight and tossed his head back as the tears continued to roll down his cheeks. He yanked his wrists out of Nick's grip and let his arms fall to his sides. He took a deep breath and looked down at Nick, who looked up at him, absolutely petrified.

"I mean Jesus, Nick, don't you think I've done enough tonight and now I have to come here and save your stupid ass?!"

Nick couldn't help it. He burst out laughing he was so happy, joy swelling in his chest. Staring at him, a smile broke Greg's otherwise furious features and he started laughing, too. He rolled off of Nick and onto his back as the two of them just lied there on the floor, laughing as they stared up at the ceiling, listening to shouts from the S.W.A.T. team and the bomb squad declaring that things were 'all clear.'

"Never do that to me again, Nick, do you understand?" Greg said, shaking his head.

Nick chuckled. "Yeah. Sure."

"I feel like a superhero today," Greg said. "It's like, everywhere I turn, I see people who need me to rescue them." He put on a high pitched voice. "'Help me, Greg, help me!' I swear, the next thing you know Grissom is going to fall down a well and break his leg and only I will be able to get him out of there."

"You're crazy," Nick said with a dopy smile.

"You're an idiot," Greg returned.

"We really are a pair, then, aren't we?" Nick said, turning his head to smirk at Greg.

They heard footsteps and then someone interrupted their view of the ceiling, standing over them and looking down at them with a cocked eyebrow.

Like identical twins they both raised their hand and waved up at him, with the same grins on their faces, both of them panting as if they had just ran a marathon.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "You two getting up anytime soon?"

"Probably not," Nick said, laughing lightly.

Warrick appeared next to Grissom and smirked down at the two of them. "Wow, Nick, you really need to learn to stop getting into trouble. We're getting really tired of pulling you out of tight spots."

Nick hit his calf and grinned in reply.

"Nick!" came a high pitched shriek and Nick propped himself up to see an enraged Catherine Willows standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips. His eyes widened as he backed up against the wall and scrambled to his feet as Catherine headed over to him step by step. He held up his hands to defend himself.

"Now, Catherine…" he said slowly. "Greg already kicked my ass for being an—"

But she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall, glaring at him piercingly. "You are by far the stupidest person I have ever met."

"Yeah, I know," Nick said, a flush beginning to creep in his cheeks. He noticed that she was holding him with her left arm when she was right-handed. Her right arm was hanging uselessly at her side. There was an unnatural bump on her forearm with a sickly yellow discoloration around it that made him nervous. "What happened to your arm?"

Her eyes narrowed. Nick thought she would strike him clear across the face. So it came as a complete surprised to him when he felt her lips firmly pressed against his own. But it was a pleasant surprise, and far more welcome than a punch in the face as he embraced her.

Finally, she broke the kiss staring at him breathless as she shook her head before letting go of his shirt, slapping him clear across the face, turning on her heal, and walking out.

Rubbing his sore cheek, he stared after her and looked at his male colleagues, who looked to be suppressing a few laughs.

Clueless, he said, "Am I supposed to understand what that meant?"