Chapter 6
"Max Trent, age twenty-seven. Severely beaten before being shot in the head," Vartann was telling Nick and Grissom about the victim, but Nick wasn't listening very closely. He was finding it difficult to concentrate on what the veteran homicide detective was telling them.
The dark brown, nearly black haired, vacantly staring brown eyed body could have been Greg. The man's face was bruised and bloodied, but still recognizable enough that the similarities to Greg made Nick shiver.
In the five months Nick had been dating the younger man, he had managed to push thoughts of what Greg had been through to the back of his mind. No Nazis from the past had come after Greg, and while both men kept up a certain vigilance, there was no more mentioned about it.
"You know, he bares a striking resemblance to a vic from a scene Catherine and I processed two days ago," Grissom said, causing Nick's head to snap up to look at him. The contemplative look on Grissom's face told Nick the older man was thinking about the implications of having two victims who looked so much alike. "No suspects, and that vic was also beaten before being killed by a single gunshot to the head. The bullet was nine millimeter, and Bobby said he was fairly confident he knew the type of gun it was fired from, but he wanted to do some research to be sure."
Vartann was now taking a closer look at the dead man as well. Eyes widening in alarm, he said, "Now that you mention it, there was a case a week ago, Warrick covered it. That young man also looked a lot like this vic. Same MO, no suspects." Vartann trailed off for a moment, before he said, "I'm going to give Warrick a call."
Feeling the blood drain from his face, Nick wasn't sure he'd be able to make it out to the hall before he passed out, but he wasn't about to risk Grissom's wrath by contaminating a crime scene by fainting in it. He managed to stumble a couple of steps towards the door, when he felt a hand on his elbow, steadying him. Did the other two men truly not see it, or were they just not voicing the fact that this vic, at least, looked so much like Greg?
It wasn't until he'd managed to get out into the apartment complex hallway and slid down the wall that Nick was able to see who had helped him get out of the crime scene.
"Nicky, you okay?" Grissom was kneeling beside him, blue eyes filled with concern.
Putting his head between his knees in a bid to buy himself time to think, as well as to keep himself from passing out, Nick tried to slow his breathing down. Three men killed in the space of a week, all of whom looked a lot alike. Don't hide from it, Nick, he thought to himself. If the other two resemble this one as much as Grissom and Vartann seem to think, they all look a lot like Greg. It could be a coincidence. It didn't mean the Nazis had fixed their time travel bracelets and tracked Greg down. Unfortunately, in Nick's job, he'd come to discover there really was no such thing as coincidence.
Regaining control of his breathing, Nick risked leaning his head back against the wall, and gave Grissom a shaky smile. "I'm okay. Must be coming down with the flu." He hoped Grissom would buy the deception. As much as he feared for Greg's safety, he couldn't tell his supervisor any of what Greg had told him. Grissom would never believe it, and would probably call his sanity into question.
Straightening back up, Grissom looked down at Nick, "I can handle this. Go home and get some rest."
Smiling wanly up at his boss, Nick said, "Sure thing, Gris," though he had no intention of following his boss's orders.
When he felt he could stand without risking passing out again, Nick pulled himself to his feet and left the building.
Even though he wanted to run the lights and siren so he could floor the accelerator, Nick didn't want to draw any undue attention to himself. Besides, Greg was surrounded by cops, detectives, and CSIs who all carried firearms. Not to mention Nick had been teaching Greg how to shoot, and while Greg was no marksman, he could hold his own in a firefight. As a law enforcement officer, even if only a lab rat, Greg had the right to carry a concealed weapon. Grissom had raised his eyebrow when he'd noticed the telltale bulge under Greg's lab coat, but no one had questioned Greg over the appearance of the Glock that had become as much a part of the younger man's wardrobe as his bright purple trainers. Nick had to trust that no one in their right mind would attack Greg at the lab. He was safe there!
Finally reaching the crime lab, Nick peaked into the DNA lab to reassure himself that Greg was okay, then found a darkened layout room to slip into. Logging quickly into the computer, he brought up the files for the other two cases. As he had feared, those vics did bare a remarkable resemblance to the victim found tonight, and Greg. Going over the rest of the notes, Nick found only one other item of interest. His blood ran cold as he read the firearms report. A Walther P38 had been used to kill both victims. Bobby's notes indicated that this model of firearm had been used in Nazi Germany during World War II, as well as in several other countries since then. None of those countries included the U.S. The P38 was not a gun widely used or available in the U.S., much less the state of Nevada. It was mainly a collector piece, and collectors didn't usually fire their weapons, even for simple target practice.
This was the last piece of the puzzle he needed. Greg was in danger, and Nick would do everything in his power to keep his soul mate safe.
Logging back out of the computer, Nick slipped out of the layout room and headed back down the hall to the DNA lab. Through the glass walls, Nick could see Greg swaying to the music he had playing quietly as he worked. In the months since Greg started at the lab, he'd become much more at ease around his co-workers. Once in a while he'd flinch or jump if startled, but he was no where near as fearful as he'd been the first weeks he'd been there.
Plastering a smile on his face, hoping Greg wouldn't see right through it, knowing he probably would anyway, Nick knocked on the glass wall and waved when Greg looked up. The happy smile Greg gave him in return made Nick's insides turn to jelly, and a warm heat settle towards his groin. It was like this every time Greg looked at him, talked to him, touched him.
Moving quickly around the corner towards the DNA lab's main door, he tried to erase as much of the tension from his face as he could. Terrifying Greg into a blind panic would not accomplish anything, but that's what would happen if Greg saw how truly scared Nick was, since Nick wasn't one to frighten easily.
"Hey, G!" Nick said, closing the distance between them. Not caring if anyone saw at this point, just wanting to reassure himself that Greg was okay, Nick pulled Greg against him and nuzzled his neck before kissing his pulse point.
Confusion heavy in his voice, Greg said, "Nicky?" In the time they'd been together, Nick had never displayed this much affection towards him at work. That Nick was risking it now told Greg that something was troubling the older man. "What's wrong?"
Pulling back with a sigh, Nick said, "Damn! I knew I wouldn't be able to hide my feelings from you." Greg had gotten to know the older man so well that Nick couldn't falsify his emotional state without him instantly picking up on it.
Meeting Nick's eyes, Greg saw the fear the older man was struggling to control, felt his own heart speed up at the thought of what could cause Nick to be so afraid. There was only one thing that he could think of that would make Nick that scared.
Before Greg could speak, Nick said, "Don't say anything. Not here. Gris thinks I'm sick, so I have to go home. Call me when you get off and I'll come get you. Don't leave the building. Stay inside until I get here. Promise me!"
"I promise," Greg responded, though he would have waited inside for Nick to come get him, even if the older man hadn't made him promise. "I'll call you as soon as my shift's up." Gaze darting to the glass walls, Greg caught sight of Catherine walking towards the DNA lab. "You better go. If you're supposed to be home sick Grissom won't be happy to find out you were here, instead. Catherine might let something unknowingly slip." Reaching up, Greg planted a quick kiss to the corner of Nick's mouth, then pulled away to go back to work.
After one last look back at Greg, Nick slipped out the door and headed back to the parking garage.
Though Greg knew better – after all, he knew exactly how time worked – time seemed to slow down, and his shift seemed to take days instead of hours to pass. He found himself on edge, jumpier than he had been in months. When Hodges, over in Trace, accidentally dropped a glass test tube, the sound of the shattering glass nearly caused Greg to draw his weapon. As it was, he ducked, looking around wild eyed. Hodges had the presence of mind to look sheepishly through the glass walls over at Greg, and mouthed, "Sorry," when he saw that Greg had ducked.
At the end of shift, Greg did exactly as Nick had asked him to. He called Nick and let him know he'd be waiting in the break room, then suited action to words.
The ride to Nick's house was quiet, the tension nearly thick enough to cut with a knife. Nick refused to talk about what was bothering him while they were on the road. The only words uttered during the entire drive were when Nick asked him three or four times if he was armed. The last time Nick asked, Greg finally unclipped the strap and pulled the Glock free of its holster to show the older man that he was indeed packing heat. Nick had finally given him a sheepish half grin, and murmured, "Sorry."
At the house, Nick actually pulled the truck into the garage, instead of leaving it in the driveway, as he usually did. Ushering Greg through the connecting door from the garage, he even took the extra precautionary step of closing and locking that door.
Already on edge, Greg couldn't help the tremble in his voice, as he wrapped his arms around himself and said, "Nicky, you're scaring me."
Pulling Greg into his arms, pressing his cheek against the side of the younger man's head, Nick said, "I know. Shit! I'm sorry. Come in the living room."
"Something happened at the crime scene you were at with Gris, didn't it?" Greg asked, allowing himself to be led into the living room, and pushed down to the couch. He curled his feet up under him, as he watched Nick begin to pace.
Drawing a shaky breath, wishing like hell he had another explanation for those three men who looked so much like Greg, Nick said, "Within the last week, there have been three men killed. They all looked remarkably like you, G." He stopped pacing long enough to lock gazes with Greg. He saw his own fear mirrored in the younger man's eyes.
"It could just be a coincidence, couldn't it?" Greg asked, wrapping his arms around his drawn up knees.
Beginning to pace again, Nick said, "In my experience, there's no such thing as coincidence. They were beaten to a bloody pulp, before being shot in the head. Bobby identified the gun as a Walther P38."
Feeling as though he'd never be warm again, as all the heat seemed to leave his body at once, Greg moaned, "Oh, God! It's him!"
The color draining from Nick's face, he said, "You mean the one who–" he couldn't finish the sentence, but Greg's slight nod told him all he needed to know. "How do you know it's him?"
"Part of the reason I figured out they would never let me go was that he would gloat that when they gave him the order to kill me, he'd," Greg had to stop here to clear his throat before he could go on. "He'd 'fuck me once more for old times sake, then put a bullet in my brain.' His words, not mine," Greg seemed to need to clarify that he was quoting the soldier who'd abused him so badly. "Were they– Do you know if he–" he couldn't bring himself to voice the word.
Nick told Greg the names of the three victims. "Were you given SAE kits for any of them?"
Shaking his head, Greg said, "He figured out they weren't me. That's why they were beaten. He was pissed off that he hadn't found me." Turning pain filled eyes on Nick, he wailed, "Those three men are dead because of me!"
Breaking off his pacing, Nick fell to his knees in front of Greg. He cupped Greg's cheeks in his hands, forced the younger man to meet his gaze again. "No! No! No! Their deaths are not your fault!"
Tears were streaming down Greg's face. "It is my fault, Nicky! I should never have–"
Nick didn't let Greg finish the sentence. He surged forward, claiming Greg's lips with his own, the younger man's mouth opening to his insistent tongue. Greg's tears continued, unabated, as they kissed, adding a flavor of salt to their it.
When they broke apart a moment later, gasping for air, Nick spoke before Greg could say anything. "Fate brought you to this time, to me. If you'd never come to this time, that madman would still be hurting you. And I'd lay two to one odds that you weren't the only one he hurt in his own time. Either way, he'd find someone to hurt, someone to kill. And if he gets anywhere near you, I will do whatever I have to do to protect you! I love you!" Taking a breath, Nick went on more calmly, "All of that being said, move in with me. I'd feel better if you were with me, when we're not at work, than having you alone in your apartment."
Not that Greg spent much time at his apartment anymore, but there were still times that he retreated there, telling Nick he needed some time alone. The fact that the younger man wouldn't meet his eyes when he told him he needed the solitude made Nick suspect there was more to it than that, but he had let Greg have his space.
Doing his best to tamp down the guilt he still felt, Greg nodded at Nick. "Okay, Nicky. I'll move in with you on the condition that you let me convert the spare bedroom into a workspace, and you respect my privacy if I'm in there working."
Allowing a relieved smile to play across his features, Nick said, "I can do that for you."