A/N: a couple of translations (taken from Babel Fish so if they're not accurate, blame that site.)

Nein = no

seelengehilfen = soul mates

Chapter 3

It was a few minutes before start of shift, and Nick had just walked into the break room. It was deserted, save for Greg, who was sitting at the long table that dominated the center of the room. He had a paper coffee cup tipped towards him on the table, so he could regard its contents. There was a grimace of distaste on his face.

"Every body agrees, but nobody ever does anything about it," Nick said softly, hoping he wouldn't scare the younger man.

Setting his coffee cup flat on the table again, Greg looked up at Nick. He smiled shyly at the older man, sure the tips of his ears were turning red from embarrassment and desire, as the second half of the previous night's dream came flooding back. It dawned on him that Nick's neck had turned crimson, and wondered what was causing the older man so much embarrassment.

Nick felt the heat rushing up his neck, was powerless to stop it, as images from his dream filled his head. He noticed the tips of Greg's ears had turned a lovely shade of red, and wondered why.

"There was this blend that I used to drink, before..." Greg trailed off momentarily, realizing he was about to reveal too much. Continuing, he said, "It was pure ambrosia. I haven't found anything to equal it since I got to Vegas."

Nick desperately wanted to ask the younger man out for a drink after shift, but he felt sure it was too early. He wanted a chance to try to reverse some of the damage that had been done to the younger man's psyche. He just prayed that the damage wasn't permanent, that Greg hadn't been broken by whatever he'd been through.

Surprising himself, Greg said softly, "I would be honored if you'd allow me to buy you a drink, after shift." He couldn't believe how incredibly safe Nick made him feel.

Eyes widening in shock, wondering if Greg had read his mind, Nick stammered, "I- I..." As one part of his brain tried to form an answer to Greg's question, another part of his brain was processing the way Greg had worded his request. It was almost as if the younger man had materialized in this time from an era long past, where father's were asked permission before their daughters were courted, and chaperones accompanied the couples on their dates.

Backpedaling as quickly as he could, thinking he'd completely misread the older man, Greg said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

Nick cut him off, "No, no, it's..." He watched as Greg prepared to leave, head down cast, as he still thought he'd misread the older man. "I'd love to, G!"

Head snapping around towards Nick in surprise, Greg allowed a happy smile to play across his features. "Would you mind suggesting a place, maybe driving? I don't really know my way around, yet." Just like that, the feeling that Greg was from a bygone era faded.

The next thought that struck Nick was that there was the faintest note of an accent in Greg's voice. The younger man hadn't spoken enough for Nick to notice it before, but he did now, and he wondered about it. It was so faint, it was nearly undetectable, but it was there, and it was sexy as hell.

"How about this, instead, then. Let's go out to breakfast, then I'll take you on a tour of the city, show you some of the places us locals like to go. I'm pretty sure we might be able to find a good coffee house. I've never been much of a coffee drinker, but I could help you find a blend you like."

About that time, Warrick and Catherine walked in, but Greg didn't glance their way. Instead, he gave Nick another shy smile, and said, "I'd like that," which caused Nick's face to nearly split in half with the size of his grin.

Rising from his seat, Greg finally acknowledged the other presences with a quick, "Hi!" before heading towards the door.

Warrick responded with a quiet, "Hey, Greggo!" He had taken Nick's concerns to heart about the younger man, and was doing his best to help Nick set him at ease. Catherine seemed to think it best if she maintained her silence, instead just shooting Greg a friendly smile and nod.

When the younger man was finally out the door and headed towards his lab, Warrick said, "What was that all about, man?"

Nick finally sank into a chair, his right foot bouncing up and down with sudden nervous energy and excitement. "He asked me out!"

Catherine was the first to react to this, "That timid little mouse asked you out?" Nick didn't think she'd meant it in a mean way, but he took offence, nonetheless.

"Oh, come on, Cath! Timid little mouse?"

"Okay, maybe not the best choice of words, Nicky. I'm sorry. But you of all people should be able to read the messages his body is sending out! He's being abused!"

"No, he's not," he snapped, then continued a little quieter, "At least, not anymore."

Catherine cocked an eyebrow at him in an "Uh huh. Exactly how many times have you heard that line, only to end up processing the scene of a battered wife's murder?"

"Don't ask me how I know, I just do!" the words came out more harshly than he'd intended.

Raising her hands in an "I surrender" gesture, Catherine said, "Okay, Nicky."

Allowing an adequately chastised look to settle on his face, Nick said, "Sorry, Cath."

He was saved from any further embarrassment by Grissom's arrival with assignments. Nick knew this was going to be a long night. Nick was paired with Grissom on a triple homicide at the MGM Grand, Catherine was working a home invasion in Henderson, Warrick a B&E on the north side of Vegas, and even Brass was working a scene.

~~~CSI~~~

It had taken eight hours to process the scene, but they were finally done.

Climbing out of the Tahoe, Nick stretched his arms above his head, trying to work the kinks out of his back. Then he scrubbed his hands vigorously over his face, desperate to look alert and awake.

Meeting Grissom at the back of the SUV, he grabbed an armload of evidence from the cargo bay. "I'll get these to DNA and Trace."

"Thank you, Nick. Then go on home. We'll start processing everything tomorrow," Grissom responded, picking up the rest of the evidence.

Nick stopped at Trace first, insuring he wouldn't have to go anywhere else after the DNA lab.

The corridors were quiet, and for a change, Nick didn't pass anyone. His eyes were drawn to the glass walls of the DNA lab, and the lithe DNA tech working within. As Nick had discovered the day before, Greg seemed to relax when he was alone. The younger man was leaning over the microscope, as he studied a sample closely. His hips were swaying back and forth in a manner that Nick found incredibly sensual.

Letting out a laugh before he reached the door, Nick said, "Hey, G!" as the younger man straightened away from the microscope. There was the slightest tightening of features, as though the younger man was slipping back into role for a play, and had to make sure he didn't slip up and say his lines wrong. Nick wondered if it had more to do with not letting the wrong thing slip out, than getting lines wrong.

A smile settled on Greg's face, as he turned towards Nick. He gestured towards the evidence bags in Nick's hand. "Have some samples for me to run?"

"Nah, just log them in and leave them for day shift." Looking pointedly at the clock, Nick said, "Shift ended ten minutes ago, and as I recall, we have a date." He held the evidence bags out to Greg, who took them without flinching.

Greg felt Nick's eyes on him, as he moved to log in the bags and store them away for day shift to deal with. If it had been any of the other CSIs watching him, he would have been nervous as all get out, but with Nick, it was different.

Having dealt with the DNA samples, Greg began to straighten up the lab, determined to leave it neat for the next shift. Picking up a glass bottle of hydrochloric acid, he turned to return it to its proper place on the shelf of chemicals.

The bottle slipped from his fingers, shattering as it hit the edge of the glass work table. Taking a step back, as he began to fumble with the acid splashed lab coat, Greg let out a startled, "Nein!"

Nick – too busy stepping in to help Greg rid himself of the dissolving garment – apparently didn't hear Greg's slip. He did however, notice the hole forming in the leather cuff Greg was once more wearing over his left forearm. Thinking quickly, disregarding his own safety, Nick pulled the cuff free and allowed it to clatter to the floor.

The rush of adrenaline making him pant, Nick said, "You okay?" He reached for the box of baking soda, kept in the lab for emergencies such as this, where a neutralizing agent was called for.

"I- I think so. None got on my skin." Without conscious thought, Greg's right hand had moved to his left forearm, clamping down over his identification tattoo.

As he began to sprinkle baking soda over the lab table and the floor where the acid had splashed, Nick's eyes gave Greg a quick, appraising once over, to reassure himself that the younger man was, indeed, unscathed. His gaze stopped on Greg's right hand, where it was clamped over his forearm.

Stepping towards Greg, baking soda box still in hand, Nick said, "Let me see."

Panic settling in his eyes, Greg took a step back. "I'm fine! I didn't get any on me, Nick!"

"Then let me see," Nick said, his voice low and urgent. If Greg was lying, for whatever reason, then each second that went by was more time for the acid to eat through Greg's flesh.

"Please!" Greg's plea tore through Nick's heart and brain, bringing him crashing back to himself with the sudden realization that he'd continued to advance on the younger man until Greg's back had been pressed against the shelving unit that normally housed the acid.

Nick reeled back, as though struck. Voicing a strangled, "Oh, God! I'm sorry, Greg!" he retreated to the other side of the lab, giving Greg space. He prayed that he hadn't ruined any chances he had with the younger man.

When Nick had gotten far enough away from Greg, Greg made a dash for the door. He knew Nick wouldn't hurt him, he knew that! Just the feeling of being trapped had overwhelmed him, making him panic.

Nearly running into Warrick in his haste to escape the DNA lab, Greg just managed to swerve around him, hand still clamped firmly on his forearm. Warrick turned, watching Greg's retreating back, as the younger man continued his headlong dash down the corridor. He slammed through the bathroom door, not considering the significance of his destination, until he was already inside.

Warrick found Nick, carefully cleaning up glass and baking soda neutralized acid, muttering, "Shit! Shit! Shit!" under his breath like a mantra.

"Nicky?"

Turning a tortured gaze on Warrick, Nick resignedly said, "I screwed up my chances with him, 'Rick."

Taking a look around, Warrick said, "I'll finish cleaning this up. You, go talk to him!" He didn't ask for any specifics about what had happened, just trusted that whatever it was, the two men would be able to work it out, if they'd just talk it through. When he saw Nick hesitating, Warrick said, "Go, or I'll drag you down to the mens' room, myself!"

Nick trudged his way down to the mens' room, as though he were a death row inmate walking down the hall to the execution room, and his death. Before pushing the door opened, he tapped lightly on it, not wanting to scare Greg worse than he already had.

Pushing through the door, he said, "Greg, it's Nick. I'm coming in."

Inside, Greg was sitting on the floor against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. When Nick entered, he scrambled to his feet, pressing his back up against the wall. His hands had fallen to his sides, as in his fear, he forgot that he had been covering the hated tattoo.

Nick stopped just inside the door, couldn't help thinking about the first half of his dream from the night before for the briefest of moments before tamping it down. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he shoved them deeply into the pockets of his jeans. His eyes darted to Greg's, then quickly away again. They paused briefly at the tattoo on Greg's arm, then dropped to the floor, in front of his feet. He tried to comprehend what the significance of the tattoo was, knew he should know what it meant, but drew a blank. It was just a series of numbers, forever imprinted in the younger man's skin.

Unsure if he should bring up the tattoo, deciding against it, Nick murmured, "I'm so sorry! I had to know you were okay. Shit! I..." He trailed off for a moment, unsure of exactly what he should say, then, "I- I have this protective streak that's a mile wide, especially when someone I care deeply about is in danger. And I know I've only known you for a little over a day, but I feel this... I don't even know how to explain it adequately!"

A very quiet, "I feel it too. Seelengehilfen," broke into Nick's monologue.

Falling quiet, Nick blinked at Greg, trying to decipher exactly what the younger man had said. Finally, "What?"

Realizing he'd slipped into German again, Greg repeated what he'd said, "I feel it too, Nicky. Soul mates. My nana told me about them, when I was a small boy. She said that when you meet your soul mate, you just know it. I know you'd never hurt me, Nicky." Pushing away from the wall, Greg took a hesitant step towards Nick, then another. When he was finally standing in front of Nick, Greg laid an uncertain, shaking hand on Nick's chest.

Refusing to meet Nick's gaze, he locked his eyes on his hand where it rested on the older man's chest, he could feel Nick's heart beating out a frantic rhythm. "What happened... it wasn't your fault, Nicky. I flashed back to something... unpleasant that happened to me in the past." Finally meeting Nick's gaze with a tentative smile, he said, "I'd still like that breakfast."

His eyes traveling over the tattoo again, as it was Greg's left hand on his chest, Nick said, "You don't ever have to tell me any of it, if you don't want to. But I'd like to know." Then he let out a small sigh of relief, and said, "Let's go get that breakfast."

Greg's cheeks turned rosy, as he blushed under the older man's scrutiny, and he dropped his arm back to his side. Taking a few steps back, he moved, so Nick could open the door he stood in front of.