Chapter Eleven: Breath of Life
Still feeling groggy from the bottle of scotch he had chugged back with the bottle of aspirin, Bradley could barely feel his father's hands shaking him, until he felt pressure to the wounds on his chest. He winced in agony, struggling to push his father's hands away from him. "Bradley." His father gasped in relief, cradling him against his chest, his tears soaking his son's hair. He thought for sure that he was dead when he found him, but now he was moving, he was sure he was going to be okay.
"Dad." Bradley almost wanted his father to hold him tightly and never let him go, but the pain in his body was just too much. "Let me go." He pulled away from him, tugging his sweatshirt back into place.
"How many of these did you take?" Nick held the empty pill bottle up to him. "I need to know, sweetie. Please." He gently shook Bradley as he started to drift off to sleep again, wanting to keep him with him. "C'mon baby, talk to me. Did you take the whole bottle? One or two?" He was hoping, but Bradley seemed very out of it, proving that he took more than just one or two.
"Mr Stokes, the ambulance is here!" Deacon shouted from the open barn door, spotting the flashing lights coming down the road.
"Go out and flag em down!" He called back to him, before turning his attention back to his son. "Look at me, Bradley." He brushed his fingers through his son's hair, feeling the sweat against his cold forehead. "Don't leave me, baby." Looking into his eyes, he felt as though he was looking into a comatose victim, completely unaware of his surroundings. "I love you, bud. I love you so much. You can't die."
Deacon ushered the paramedics into the barn, staying by the door to watch. One was a female, in her late thirties, the other male, just a few years younger than her. They immediately hurried to Nick's side, asking him about the victim, before they got to work.
"What's his name?" The woman asked, looking up at the father.
"Bradley."
"Bradley! Bradley, can you hear me?" She shone a light into each of his eyes. "Was he conscious when you found him?" Nick shook his head, watching the man trying to get his son to breathe. "Do you know how long ago he took these?" She indicated towards the bottle, watching both the father and the boy at the door shaking their heads. "Okay, Bradley, we're going to lift you onto a gurney and take you to the hospital." She told him, even though she wasn't sure if he could hear her or not.
Nick helped them to set up the gurney, having seen it done so many times. He held his son's hand as they prepared him to leave, feeling a weak grip in return. This wasn't the same child who tightly gripped his fingers a few years ago. It was almost as if he was no longer inside of his own body.
"Okay, I beat you." Greg set down his cards, showing her his hand. "Trips. I got three kings."
"You don't win." Tayla protested, dropping her own hand onto the table. "I got a Jack, a four and a two." She clapped her hands together in excitement, reaching for the pile of sweets sat in the centre of the table.
"I don't get it, how do you win? I have three kings. Are you sure you know how to play this game?"
Tayla gave him a nod, sharing half of her sweets with him, taking out the coconut ones, as she knew he didn't like them. "Greg, can we watch TV now?" She pouted. "When your parents tell you that it will melt your brain, it's a lie, you know." She pointed out to him, watching a smile spreading across his lips.
"I know. I figured that one out when I was your age." He reached for the remote behind him, clicking the television on in front of them. "Knock yourself out. Not literally, and don't watch anything your Daddy wouldn't normally let you watch. I gotta call work." Climbing to his feet, Greg searched for where he had left his phone, finding it sat beside the sink in the kitchen. He hit his speed dial for the lab, taking a seat at the counter.
He watched Tayla climbing onto the sofa behind her, clutching a pillow against her chest. While she flipped through the channels on the television, searching for some cartoons to watch, she continued to peel the wrappers off her sweets, stuffing the chocolaty treats into her mouth. All she found were the dramatic soaps though, that her father didn't like her watching.
Greg looked towards her as he heard gun shots echoing through the television, making sure she flipped over to the next station, before he turned his attention back towards his phone. "Hi Judy, it's Greg. Is Grissom in?"
"Hi, Greg. No he's not here, he's out on a case." The receptionist arranged some of the files cluttering her desk, finding her messages she had piling up for Supervisor Grissom. "Can I give him a message?"
"Just let him know that Nick's not back yet, but I'll be in later."
"Okay, see you soon." Greg nodded into his phone, snapping it shut in his hand.
"Where are you going?"
Greg looked round, seeing Tayla stood beside him, with her arms folded across her chest.
"I'm not going anywhere . . . yet. But later, I have to go into work. Without your Daddy or Aunt Sara there, the work load is piling up a bit, so they can't afford to let me have another day off." He explained to her, kneeling down in front of her. "I'll be back in the morning though, and we'll call your Daddy before I go in. You won't even know I'm missing, because you'll be sleeping the whole time."
"I don't want you to go. Can't you stay here with me?"
Greg was suddenly relieved that he didn't have any children of his own, realising just how much parents broke their heart, every time they stepped out the door. "I want to . . . but, I have responsibilities at work. If we don't have enough people at work, then we might not be able to help people in time, like we helped you and your Daddy. If there weren't enough people working at the lab that day..."
"I want my Daddy." She cut him off.
Just as she asked for him, Greg's cell started to ring in his hand. He looked down at his phone, seeing Nick's name flashing across the screen. He didn't want to answer it in case it was bad news about his son, but he had to, as he knew Nick still needed him.
"Hello."
"Greg..." He immediately heard the man sniffle into his phone, breathing heavily, as though he had just been crying. "Can you talk?"
"Um... hang on a second." Greg moved the phone to his shoulder, looking at Tayla in front of him. "Sweetie, can you go play in your room a sec?" Tayla gave him a pouty look, before she reluctantly turned for the hall, making her way towards her room. "Okay." He spoke softly into the phone, feeling his heart aching for Nick, as he heard the distinct sound of his whimpers. "Talk to me, Nicky."
"I was holdin' him in my arms, Greg. I could feel him slippin' away from me. I thought if I held him tighter, I could keep him with me." He sobbed into his phone.
"He's not... he's not gone, right?" Greg made his way towards Nick's bedroom, clicking the door shut, so Tayla couldn't hear him. Perching himself on the edge of his bed, he waited to hear Nick's answer, but he could only hear the sounds of his rapid breathing. "Nicky, talk to me, you're scaring me."
"No . . . he's not." Nick shook his head, wiping away the tears from his eyes. "He's not dead. He's had his stomach pumped . . . his heart stopped in the ambulance though. I felt like I'd lost him. They told me he took a lethal dose of aspirin . . . washed down with scotch. What if he doesn't make it?" He feared, feeling his hands shaking.
"He will, Nicky, you have to focus on the positive." He tried to assure him, steadying his own shaky hands. "He's gonna be okay, Nicky. I know he is. He's a part of you . . . and you're the strongest person I know."
"Yeah." Nick slid down the wall, resting his head back against the wall behind him. "I'm real strong. I almost lose the man I love and both my kids in the same year. They found all these... bruises on him in the ambulance. They immediately looked at me, thinkin' I had done somethin' to him. They won't even let me see him; they're callin' the cops, social services... everythin'. I don't even know if he's alive."
"What... but you'd never do anything like that."
"Try tellin' that to them." Nick wiped his hands across his cheeks, looking at the security guard that had been assigned to watching over him, making sure he didn't hurt anyone else. "What kinda father am I, Greg? Someone's been hurtin' my little boy, and I didn't even know it was goin' on, or who it is. Everyone's a suspect at this point, right? That means... me, Samantha... and Gary. Just you wait till I find out who it was. They won't even have time to explain themselves."
"Don't do anything stupid, Nicky." The younger man warned him, hearing the anger in Nick's voice. "Aren't they gonna talk to Bradley, get his side of the story?"
"They can't... he hasn't woken up. Last I heard, they weren't sure if he would either." He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes again, spotting Samantha hurrying towards the front desk. "I gotta go, Greg. I'll call you later."
"No Nicky, wait... ugh, why doesn't he ever listen?" Greg snapped, as Nick always hung up on him at the worst times.
"Sam!" Nick called over to her, struggling to his feet off the ground. Samantha hurried towards him, throwing her arms around him for a hug. Nick tried not to give in, not knowing if she was the one that had been hurting their son. He couldn't know, as he wasn't allowed to review the evidence himself. "Where's Gary?" He asked, looking around for him.
"I don't know, he's not answerin' his phone. I left him a couple of messages." She gave Nick a curious look, wondering why he was looking at her in a different way. "What? Is there somethin' that you're not tellin' me? Is Bradley..."
"He's been abused." Nick cut her off, pointing out the security guard watching over him. "They think I did it."
"You... but, you'd never do anythin' like that." As Nick gave her an accusing glare, Samantha snapped, "Well it wasn't me! How could you even think that? I'd never lay a finger on him; I love him more than life itself."
"Me too!" He shouted back.
Samantha gave him a nod, knowing how much he cared. "Then... who was it?"
"Gary?" Nick suggested. "A lot of kids are abused by someone they know, like a step parent. If it wasn't you and it wasn't me, it must have been him."
"But Gary, he'd..." Samantha shook her head, refusing to believe it. "No, not Gary. He loves that kid. He's been so worried about him while he was missin'."
"Where is he now then?" Nick asked her, sounding even angrier this time. "Feelin' guilty is he? Couldn't show his face? He could be the one that did this. Why are you takin' his side?"
"I'm not!" She shouted back, pushing him away from her. "Don't you think we should at least ask Bradley, before we start jumpin' to conclusions?" She suggested, then saw the look on his face. "No... what's... what's happened? Is my baby, is he..."
"He's alive." He assured her. "He hasn't woken up yet . . . and we can't see him. Not until child services talks to him."
"So, what do we do?"
"Nothin'." Nick took a seat on one of the chairs, dropping his head into his heads. "There isn't anythin' we can do, but wait." Samantha helplessly looked around the hospital, before she dropped onto the chair beside him, copying his actions.
"Mr Stokes," The female child services officer stepped into the waiting room, watching the man she was looking for slowly taking a few steps closer towards her. "Mr Stokes, I'm workin' your son's case. My name's Martina Harris."
"What is it?"
"Bradley..." Martina spoke softly, sensing the man's tension. "He's awake. He's askin' for you. He told us... that it wasn't you."
After five hours of waiting to hear if his son was even alive, Nick was more than a little agitated, snapping, "I coulda told you that!"
"I'm sorry, Mr Stokes, but its standard procedure. We have to protect the child, more than anythin'."
Nick reluctantly nodded, knowing the drill. "Can I see him now?"
"I wonder if... could I talk to you a moment." She ushered him away from the child's mother, towards a more private area of the hospital. "Mr Stokes, I think that you should know... the abuse, it's not just physical."
"Wh-what do you mean?" Nick felt as though he was about to have his worst fears confirmed.
"The abuse, it's not just physical... it's sexual." Martina Harris felt her heart breaking for the man, wishing for once she could deliver good news on her job. "It's not uncommon for sexual abusers to physically abuse their victim too. The trauma... it appears to be quite recent. There doesn't appear to be any scarring, so it hasn't gone on for that long. Bradley won't tell us who it was though. I've dealt with cases like these before. Thirty, forty and fifty year olds can't even talk about their childhood abuse. It's going to be a lot harder for someone Bradley's age to come to terms with this."
"He'll tell me." Nick insisted. "He trusts me. He doesn't know you. Just let me talk to him."
"I don't think that's wise, not now." She shook her head. "We're going to give him a minute, before we try and talk to him again. We're not goin' to force him to do anythin' he doesn't want to do; it's completely up to him. We have to do this his way. It's not that unusual for victims to protect their abuser. He has to know that we're here for him, not to bully him for answers."
Nick gave her a nod, stuffing his shaky hands into his pockets. He knew it was standard procedure, but he wanted to know what was going on with his son right now. He shouldn't have to wait if it was his own son.
"I wonna see him. Can't I just sit with him?"
"I'm sorry, Mr Stokes." She shook her head again. "We'll let you see him once we've talked to him."
"Please." He begged her, letting the tears roll down his cheeks. "He's my son. Can I please just sit with him? I need to know that he's alive."
Looking into the man's tearful eyes, Martina Harris gave him a reluctant nod, pointing him in the right direction. "Room five. Not too long though, we have to talk to him again soon." She quickly warned him.
"Thank you. Thank you."
Without a second thought, Nick hurried through the busy hall, taking no notice of the blood covered victims just coming in. As he reached the door to room five, he felt his chest starting to ache. He immediately wished that he could switch places with his son.
His bruised little body was lying so helplessly beneath the overhead lights, illuminating every hideous bruise, along with the tears rolling down his cheeks.
Quietly stepping into the room, Nick shakily made his way round to the side of his son's bed, alerting him of his presence, when his hand slipped into his son's. "It's just me, baby." He reassured him, leaning down to press a kiss to his son's forehead, relieved that he was still alive. He examined his delicate body a moment for himself, before he looked into his son's eyes again, brushing his tears away with his thumb.
"Dad."
"I'm here, baby." Nick nervously bit his lower lip for a moment, trying to get up the courage to ask his son the question on his mind. "I know this is gonna be hard . . . but I need you to tell me who did this to you, darlin'."
Bradley shook his head, giving his father a helpless look.
"None of this is your fault, but if you don't help the police by tellin' them who did this, they'll get away with it and probably do it again." He tried to reason with him, wishing he didn't have to ask, but he wanted to know for himself. "I know it's hard, but we're just tryin' to help you. Believe me; I don't want to put you through this, if there was any other way..."
"Are you mad?" His son's croaky voice suddenly asked.
Nick quickly shook his head, pulling up a seat beside his son's bed. "No, I'm not mad. I could never be mad at you, Bradley. This isn't your fault. None of it." He squeezed his son's hand a little tighter, before he whispered, "Just give me a name. You don't have to do anythin' else, just give me a name."
"Dad..."
"A name baby." Nick interrupted him, watching more tears flowing down his son's cheek. "I'm sorry; I wish I didn't have to ask."
"Did they tell you?" He presumed that his father knew, just from the look on his face.
Nick gave him a nod, almost wishing that he didn't know. "But it wasn't your fault. I'm not mad, and I don't blame you..."
"I tried to kill myself." He cut his father off.
"That doesn't matter now." Nick squeezed his son's hand a little tighter, wishing there was something he could say or do to make it all better. "Bradley, I know this is hard, but I need you to tell me who did this to you. Please baby, just give me a name."
"I... c-can't." His son stammered.
Inhaling a deep breath, his father struggled to hold back his emotions, as his own eyes started to water. He was starting to hate himself for demanding answers, but he just had to know. "Okay." He spoke softly, resting his hand over his son's forehead. "It's okay, baby. I'm not mad. I'm just glad that you're alive."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It wasn't your fault." He continued to reassure him. "Your Mom's right outside, you wonna see her?"
Bradley shook his head, sensing that his father was trying to get away from him. He clutched the man's hand tighter, keeping him at his side. He didn't blame him for wanting to get away from him after finding out what happened to him, but he needed him at his side.
"Are you okay?" Nick whispered, knowing it was a dumb question, but he thought he had lost him in the back of that ambulance.
"My throat hurts."
"It will. They had to pump your stomach." His father gave him a small smile. "My sister Kayla had it done when she was a kid. I can't remember what she swallowed, but they had to get it out of her. She couldn't talk right for a week." Bradley gave him a smile in return, knowing that his Aunt Kayla could never stop talking. "I'm not mad at you about any of this, sweetie. I love you." He assured him.
"He lied to me."
"Who did, baby?" Nick gently stroked back his son's hair from his forehead, looking into his teary eyes. "Just tell me who it was. I can make it stop, like I shoulda done before." He whispered softly, waiting to hear his son speak. "Was it Gary?" He asked, feeling a chill running down his spine, as his son's hand suddenly tensed in his own. "Just give me a nod if it was, baby. You won't have to do anythin' else."
Bradley looked up into his father's eyes, anxiously biting his lower lip a moment, before he gave him a nod. From the look on his father's face, he felt as though he had just confessed to a murder or something, bringing more tears to his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"No." His father shook his head, wiping away his son's tears with his fingertips. "It wasn't your fault. You have nothin' to be sorry for. He's never gonna touch you again." He whispered to him, gently pressing his lips to his forehead. "I can promise you that."
"Oh my GOD!" Sara screamed, holding her sides in agony. "This isn't fair! Where's the paramedics?"
"I called them." Catherine rushed back over to her, after waiting by the window for either the ambulance or Grissom. "Just keep breathing, Sara. Deep breaths, nice and slow. And whatever you do, don't start pushing." She warned her, feeling terrified herself, but she wasn't ready to admit it.
"Did you call, Gil? He has to be here." Sara insisted, leaning back against the pillows Catherine had propped up behind her.
"I called him, Sara." Catherine dropped to her knees beside her, checking her watch, as Sara screamed through another contraction. "You're not leaving us with a lot of time here, Sara. Your contractions are... only a few minutes apart."
"So... what does that mean?"
"Alright Sara, you've gotta take everything from the waist down off." She made the decision, not wanting anything to happen to these babies.
"What?" Sara looked at her shocked. "No, I can't give birth here! It's not even time. They're not due..."
"I don't think the babies are gonna wait." Catherine helped her, grabbing the blanket from the back of the sofa, so she could drape it over her legs. "Breathe deeply, Sara. I'm gonna go get some stuff."
"What could you possibly need right now?" Sara screamed after her, adjusting the blanket over her legs, feeling a cold breeze against her thighs. "Catherine! Please don't leave me!"
"I'm not. I'll be right there!" Catherine hurried back to her, dialling Grissom's number again. "Oh shit." She muttered, glancing under the blanket.
"What, what is it?" Sara started to panic, looking towards Catherine. "You better tell me what's going on."
"Nothing." She shook her head, putting her phone down, as it went straight through to his voicemail again. "Okay Sara, when your next contraction comes, I think you're gonna have to start pushing."
"No, Catherine..."
"You're crowning, I told you they weren't gonna wait."
"The doctor." Sara panted, resting her head back against the cushions, while she held her aching bump in her hands. "Call her again."
"Okay, okay." Reaching for Sara's phone with her shaky hands, Catherine hit the speed dial for Sara's doctor again, before holding it up to her ear. She anxiously waited through each of the rings, smiling in relief as the doctor answered, "Hi... it's Catherine and Sara again. The ambulance isn't here yet, and I can see a baby's head." She reported to her.
"Okay, and the contractions are still very close together?"
"Much closer." Catherine nodded into her phone, nervously biting her bottom lip, as she watched her colleague writhing in pain. "What do we do?"
"Okay, when Sara's next contraction comes on, she's going to need to push as hard as she can to deliver the shoulders. Just like she practiced in the classes I recommended. Make sure the umbilical cord isn't wrapped around the baby's neck, before she pushes again. Do you have warm water and towels with you?"
"Yeah, I got all that." Catherine set the phone on speaker, putting it onto the coffee table beside her. "Okay Sara, the doctor said you need to push through your next contraction." She helped Sara to adjust her legs, getting one of the towels ready beside her. "Okay Sara, push as hard as you can."
"I can't!" The woman screamed in pain, wishing she had thought through a birth plan a little more, as delivering her twins on the living room floor of her friend's house without any drugs, wasn't exactly her ideal birthing environment.
"Yes you can, Sara." Her doctor encouraged her, hearing the commotion in the background. "Catherine, make sure you're ready to catch that baby. Don't pull it out, just let nature take its course."
"Got it." Catherine nodded, looking up at Sara. "C'mon, push Sara. That's it, keep pushing..."
"Arrggh! I can't do it!" Sara screamed in agony, gripping the pillows either side of her, turning her knuckles white. She felt a sharp burning pain ripping through her body, until her contraction stopped. "Oh my god it hurts. It hurts. It really, really hurts."
"I'm afraid it's going to." Catherine spoke softly, adjusting the towel she had placed on the floor, wondering if there should have been that much blood. She had been through childbirth herself, but she couldn't exactly see what was going on, as she was in Sara's position when it happened. "Okay, push again, Sara." She announced, sensing another contraction, from her friend's expression. "Keep pushing, keep pushing..."
"Argh! Where is Gil? I'm gonna KILL him!" Sara screamed, angrily clenching the cushions around her. "The one day that I actually need him. I told him I didn't want a stupid dramatic birth. I wanted it to be all calm and relaxing."
"You can kill him later." Her friend smiled back, peering back under the blanket. "The head is almost halfway out. After Lindsey's head was out, she just slid right out of me." She remembered that part, as she was relieved that the pain of crowning was finally over. "Get ready to push again, Sara."
"I don't want to." She refused, draping one arm over her eyes. "I can't have it here."
"If the baby's head is already halfway, you don't really have a choice." Her doctor called from the coffee table. "And Catherine's right, crowning is the hard part, for both Mommy and baby."
"I want Gil. Please, make it stop." Sara whimpered, clenching her fists at her sides, turning her knuckles white. "Maybe I shoulda had kids with Greg. His kids wouldn't have such big heads."
"That's mean Sara; I think Greg's pretty smart." Catherine reached her hand over Sara's legs, offering her a hand to hold through her next contraction. She suddenly started to wish that Grissom was here too, not feeling ready to deliver a baby on her own. "Okay, push again, Sara. You're doing really well, Sara." She coached her, placing her hand beneath the baby's head. "Keep pushing, keep pushing." A wide smile spread across her lips, as the tiny baby's facial features suddenly became clear. "Wow... c'mon Sara, keep pushing. Your baby's almost here."
"How far... is almost?" She panted, clutching her knee with her other hand.
The last push brought out the baby's shoulders, followed by two arms, a chest and the tinniest fingers Catherine had ever seen. "That's it, you can stop now. It's out."
"Alright Catherine, you need to make sure the baby is breathing, and there's no cord wrapped around its neck." The doctor called from the phone beside her. Catherine lifted the baby into the towel, flinching as it suddenly started to cry. She could tell it was alive, from the all the movement, but she wasn't ready for the loud screams from such a small person.
"Oh my god . . . it's a boy." A male voice suddenly called into the room.
Catherine and Sara turned their attention to the open door behind them, smiling as they saw Grissom stood in the gap. Catherine had left the door open for the paramedics, she never expected Grissom to show up, just in time to see his son.
"Where the hell have you been?" Catherine immediately shouted at him, cradling the crying baby against her.
"Catherine, I can hear the baby crying, so that must mean he's alright. Just keep him warm until the paramedics get there." The doctor called from the phone.
"I eh... I got held up." Grissom looked between the baby and Catherine, feeling his eyes welling up from the sounds of his son's cries. "I'm sorry... I eh... I..."
"I don't care." Sara relaxed back against the cushions behind her, relieved that the burning pain had finally stopped. "I'm glad you're here now."
Catherine carefully lifted the crying little boy into his mother's arms, before she moved back, so Grissom could take a seat beside Sara. "I'm sorry I wasn't here." Grissom spoke softly, pressing a kiss to Sara's sticky forehead. He gently stroked her hair back, looking at the beautiful little life they had created in her arms. "Our little boy."
Sara gave him a smile, looking down at the tiny little boy in her arms. He had a few short strands of dark hair covering his little head. Ten tiny little fingers and toes, and eyes just like his father. "I can't believe he's real."
"Sara, I think you should give the baby to Gil." Catherine suggested, seeing another head. She didn't want to break up their family's first meeting, but the other baby wasn't going to wait. She watched Grissom carefully lifting the little boy from his Sara's arms, while Sara moaned through another contraction. "The second baby's coming." She announced, in case the doctor didn't hear her.
"Okay Catherine, the ambulance is close by." The doctor assured her. "Just keep Sara breathing, tell her to push through the next contraction, just the same as the first one."
"Okay, you heard her Sara, start pushing." Catherine grabbed the second towel, ready to catch the next baby.
"Why?" Sara asked herself, looking up at her ceiling. "I had to come and see you today. The day they decided to be born! They're not even due for a while yet." Adjusting herself to a comfier position, Sara tried to prepare herself for the pain of pushing again, but this one seemed a little less painful.
Curious to know what was going on, Grissom took a peek under the blanket, raising one of his eyebrows as he watched a small human head, easily sliding out of Sara's body. From the birthing videos he had been watching over the past few months, he thought that the process would have been much longer, lasting hours, not seconds.
The second one came quicker than the first, barely giving Sara any time to scream, before the baby was in Catherine's arms. "Well, I hope you wanted boys." She carefully checked over him, wiping down his squirmy little body with the towel, before handing him over to Sara. "Congratulations." She smiled at them both, looking at the crying babies in each of their arms. "And you better get used to that noise."
"Isn't that the most amazing sound you've ever heard?" Sara smiled towards the woman beside her, listening to the cries of her two little boys.
"Finally!" Catherine sighed in relief, as the paramedics finally arrived at her door. "Don't worry; I've done all of your work for you. Take care of them, won't you." She warned them, climbing to her feet, so she was out the way.
"GARY!" Nick's scream ripped through the house, holding Samantha back, as she tried to push past him. He listened a moment for any signs of life, hearing something coming from the study.
"Nick, wait." Samantha tried to hold him back, but he was a lot stronger than her, forcing his way into Gary's study.
When Gary saw the man's expression, he immediately raised the gun from his desk draw, making Nick think he was going to point it at him. Instead, the man turned it round on himself, holding it against his head.
"You gonna take the easy way out, you COWARD!" The angry father shouted at him. "How could you do that? He's just a kid!"
Gary watched his wife slowly making her way into the study, realising that she knew as well. Nick had filled her in on the drive over, telling her not to get in his way, but she insisted on calling the police to meet them here.
"It's not my fault." Gary defended himself, keeping the gun at his head, so Nick wouldn't get any closer.
"Are you sayin' it's Bradley's!" Samantha shouted from the door, stepping up beside Nick. "How could you do that? You told me you loved him, the way a father loved a son, not this. You're sick, you deserve to die!"
"No he doesn't, if he dies it's over for him." Nick pointed out to her, turning his attention back to Gary. "You won't have to look your own kids in the eye, after they find out what you've done. You won't have to live with yourself, after everyone else finds out. I'd kill you myself, but that way out is too easy for you."
"You don't know what it's like."
"And I don't wonna know!" Nick shouted back at him. "How can you live with yourself, knowin' what you've done to a child? He's just an innocent little boy, and you've ruined his whole life."
Gary looked towards his wife, watching the tears rolling down her cheeks. "It's not my fault." He tried to explain himself again. "He's... he's not like anyone else. He's special."
"You're sick!" Samantha snapped, covering her hand over her mouth, as she felt the sudden urge to throw up. "I shoulda known. How could I be so stupid? It's not like you ever want to be with me. I thought you were different. I thought you cared."
"I do care." Gary shouted. "I love you. I know you're upset, Sam, but it's really not what you think. This whole thing, it's not what either of you think. I love Bradley."
"Shut up!" Nick threatened him, being held back by Samantha, as he was still holding the gun.
"I'm sorry you had to find out like this." He looked at the boy's parents, feeling a little ashamed. "I didn't mean to hurt him. None of this was my fault. He was just... he's special . . . and he came onto me. He threw himself at me." He accused their son. "I fell for him. He's beautiful, how could I..."
"He's a thirteen year old boy!" Pulling free from Samantha's arms, Nick lunged for Gary, ripping him from his chair to pin him against the wall. "He's just a child!" He yelled, knocking the gun from Gary's hands as he violently shook him. "People like you make me sick. You always blame it on the child. Tell me exactly what a thirteen year old could have possibly done, to make you do that to him."
"You don't understand!"
"You're damn right I don't! And I don't want to. You're sick! You deserve to die! You're sick!" Nick continued to shout, gripping his hands tightly around the man's throat. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to choke the life out of him for what he had done. As far as Nick was concerned, scum like him didn't deserve to live.
"Sara, we've gotta get you through to surgery." The nurse adjusted some of the monitors beside her bed, looking at the shocked looks on Grissom and Sara's faces. "Your boys are fine. But you've lost a lot of blood, and you're still haemorrhaging. We're gonna wheel you through to surgery to get you stitched up. It's nothing to worry about."
Grissom looked between the mother of his newborn sons and the nurse, asking, "Can I...?"
"I'm sorry; you'll have to stay here." The nurse shook her head, knowing what he was going to ask. "She'll be okay, we'll bring her right back to you." She assured him, wheeling Sara out of the room.
Greg arrived just in time to watch Sara being wheeled away, spotting Catherine moving towards Grissom to comfort him. Sara appeared to be alive, so he didn't have to worry about that, but Grissom looked very pale, as if something bad had happened or was about to happen.
Instead of making his way towards them to find out what was going on, Greg turned for the nearest exit, feeling his chest tightening. He inhaled rapid deep breaths, bursting out of the double doors to breath in some fresh air from outside.
The heavier he breathed, the more he struggled to fill his lungs with air. He became overwhelmed with a sudden feeling of dizziness, right before his eyes started to blur.
After spotting Greg on his route to the entrance of the hospital, Warrick was going to ignore him, making his way inside to see how Sara was doing, but after he saw Greg panicking, he decided to see if he was okay first.
"Hey, hey... buddy, come sit down a sec." He directed Greg towards the steps of the fire escape, sitting him down.
"I... I can't... I can't breathe."
"Shh, calm down." He didn't need a doctor to tell him that Greg was having a panic attack, it was pretty obvious. He was sweating, shaking, breathing heavily and seemed to be pretty out of it. "Breathe slowly, Greggo. Deep but slow." He took a seat beside him. "You keep breathing like that, you're only gonna make it worse."
Greg tried to slow his breathing, but he felt as though he was having a heart attack or something.
"Hey, relax bud, nothings gonna happen to you." Warrick placed his palm on Greg's back, looking the younger man in the eye. "It's all in your head. Slow deep breaths." He calmly said again, feeling Greg's chest hitching as he tried. "It's okay, I'm here."
"Is he okay?" A young woman in a nurse's uniform ditched her cigarette, making her way towards the two men.
"He's fine. I think he's just having a panic attack." Warrick told her, slowly moving his palm up and down his friend's back.
"What's his name?" The nurse asked the older man.
"Greg."
"Hi, Greg. I'm Zoe." She spoke softly, reaching for his wrist to feel his pulse, while she looked at his pupils. "Do you feel tingling in your hands or legs?" She asked him, watching him giving her a slight nod. "Have you taken anything? Any pills or..." She stopped as she saw him shaking his head, checking the time on her watch, with her fingers still on his wrist. "Are you okay to move?"
"You wonna take him inside?" Warrick gave her a surprised look, as he thought it was just a panic attack.
"Yeah, it's a lot comfier than these steps." Zoe pointed out to him, helping Greg to his feet. She led him inside towards a quiet longue area, sitting him down on the sofa, where she helped him to breath slower.
After a few minutes, Greg began to feel a little less dizzy and a bit more embarrassed, especially as Warrick was still watching over him.
"Let's check that pulse of yours." Zoe stepped up beside him again. "That's better, you still feel that tingling."
"No." Greg shook his head, barely feeling anything anymore.
"That's good, that means there's enough oxygen in your blood now." She smiled at him, pouring him a glass of water. "Has this ever happened to you before?" She queried, taking a seat beside him.
"Once." He admitted, looking towards Warrick's surprised expression. "It wasn't this bad though." He remembered waking up in a panic in his apartment, feeling as though he was having a heart attack. Luckily, Nick was sleeping over at the time, helping him through it, as he had been through the same thing himself.
"You never told me before." Warrick gave him an accusing glare.
"I don't tell you everything." Greg took a sip of the ice cold water, leaning back against the pillows behind him, finally relaxing now that he could breath.
"Have you talked to anyone about it?" Zoe asked him, sensing tension between the two men in the room.
Greg shook his head, "The department shrink already has her hands full with the rest of my problems. She did say that I could have post traumatic..."
"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD." Zoe finished for him. "My Dad had that. He was a cop. Aren't you a little young for post traumatic stress disorder?"
"He was beaten to death in an alley." Warrick filled her in, getting scowled at by Greg, for telling a complete stranger about his personal life. "Nick had the same thing for a while, after he was buried alive."
"Buried alive? Beaten to death in an alley? What the hell are your jobs?" The confused young woman asked them.
"CSI's." They answered together.
"Okay, I'm never getting a job in that career." She remarked, checking over Greg again. "I'd advise that you go home and relax. How long ago did this... the trauma happen?"
"October, last year." Greg remembered, resting his hand behind his head. "About eight months ago."
"Do you have trouble sleeping, concentrating... stuff like that?" She queried, watching the younger man giving her a slight nod. "If the panic attacks persist, I think you should seek help from a professional then. If your department shrink is anything like ours, they're only interested in whether you can still perform your job or not. They're called a department shrink for a reason. A professional therapist will actually want to help you though. It's better to get it seen to sooner, rather than later. Just like a bad rash or something. You wouldn't leave it until they have to take your whole arm off, right?"
Greg gave her a nod, before he struggled to his feet from the sofa.
"You going home?" Warrick asked him, immediately offering, "I'll drive you."
Greg shook his head, thanking Zoe, before he pushed past Warrick into the hall.
"Greg!" Warrick called after him, racing towards him, before he disappeared out the door. "Do you really think it's wise that you drive home alone, after that?" He asked, pulling Greg aside from the hall door. "Hey, what's going on with you? It's not every day that you have a panic attack out of the blue."
"Like you care." Greg pushed him away from him, not wanting him near him. "You think that just because you comforted me through that, we're suddenly friends again? You've been treating me like dirt, since the moment you found out that your best friend was in love with me. Why should I tell you anything about my private life?"
"Because... I'm a jerk." He admitted, following Greg towards the main entrance. "You think I don't know that I'm the one in the wrong here? You got beaten up. Nick almost lost his kid. And I'm..."
"You're what?" Greg abruptly stopped, turning to look round at him.
"Throwing my toys out of the pram, because my best friend lied to me." He directly quoted something Catherine had said to him, finally understanding what she meant. "It's not so much the gay thing that I have a problem with. It's you two, lying to me. I can't stand lies, especially from people I trust. Nick doesn't either, so I can't understand why he'd do that to me."
"Newsflash Warrick, not everything is about you. Nick and I were happy together. We loved each other, and it wasn't just about sex like you thought. We were dating. We talked, played video games, watched TV, ate meals together, everything." He informed him. "You made our relationship out to be something dirty, so Nick ended it. He's too afraid to admit that to me, but I know the truth. It's not his fault, it's yours."
"It's not my fault the guy broke it off with you. Maybe you shoulda tried coming onto someone a little less... straight."
"There you go again, assuming that I was the one who started it up." The younger man snapped at him, feeling dizzy from his long breathless sentence. "Well I wasn't. Believe it or not, Nick fell for this lab geek all on his own." He informed him, before he almost fell through the door, feeling his dizziness returning.
"Greg, maybe you should sit down." Warrick indicated towards one of the chairs, but Greg pulled away from him, wanting to get out of the hospital. "Greggo, don't go!" He called out to him. "I'm a jerk, I admitted it!"
"But you still haven't changed your attitude!" He shouted back, feeling the cold breeze against his skin, as he finally made it outside again. "Just leave me alone." He searched his pockets for his car keys, seeing various black blotches appearing in front of him.
"Greggo, you're walking like you're drunk." Warrick appeared beside him again, stopping him from stepping into the busy parking lot, before he got run down by a speeding ambulance. "Come over here and sit down. I don't think you should go running off, after you just had a panic attack."
"Don't touch me." Greg pulled away from the dark figure in front of him, jumping at the sound of glass breaking behind him. He held his head in one hand as he looked around him, flinching back as an arm suddenly came at him.
"Greg!" Warrick shouted, trying to get through to him, but he appeared even more disorientated then before. He dragged Greg out of the parking lot towards one of the benches, sitting him down, so he wouldn't get hit by a car. "Breathe, Greggo." He anxiously looked around for a doctor or someone to help, not knowing what to do. "I'm not gonna leave you. I'm right here."
"That's what Nick says." Greg spoke softly, holding his chest as he tried to steady his breathing.
Warrick carefully wrapped his arms around the younger man, attempting to comfort him from the images in his head. A few minutes later, the younger man's shaking started to subside, so Warrick figured he was going to be okay. "Hey, can you hear me?" He gently shook him, as he pulled back from him. "What happened back there? You went... catatonic on me." Greg gave him a shrug, wishing he had never decided to come to the hospital to see Sara. "Okay, well you're not going anywhere else." The older man pried Greg's car keys from his hands, stuffing them into his back pocket. "Don't make me call your mother."
Greg gave him a slight smile, relieved to see colour returning to his vision. He could still feel his entire body shaking, but at least now he could see. "I wonna go home."
"Whoa, you're not going anywhere." Warrick stopped him from standing up. "This time, we wait until it's over. You're scaring me, and I don't get scared very often."
Without caring who was watching or walking by them, Warrick held both the younger man's hands in his own, trying to keep him grounded. He had no idea what was going on with him, but he knew that he couldn't leave him to deal with it on his own.
"So, this happened before?" He watched Greg giving him a nod, before he asked, "Was Nick with you?"
"Uh huh." He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on taking slower, deeper breaths of the fresh air outside.
"Don't pass out on me." Warrick warned him, watching a doctor walking by them. He didn't seem to notice what was going on, probably relieved to finally be off his shift. "Slower, Greg." He spoke softly, deciding to use the same technique the nurse used to calm him down. "Hey, open your eyes, Greggo. Breath the same as me."
Greg fluttered his eyes open, moving his hands to hold his aching chest. "Why do you even care?"
"Believe it or not, I do care about you, Greg. I care a lot."
"Funny way . . . of showing it." The younger man breathlessly remarked. "Tell me honestly, have you ever . . . kissed a man, Warrick?"
"No, I'm not gay. And you shouldn't be talking, you should be breathing."
"You don't have to be gay to kiss a man. You don't even have to be gay . . . to have sex with one." He pointed out to him. "And it doesn't automatically make you gay . . . if you do either one. Just like after one beer . . . it doesn't make you an alcoholic."
"What's your point, Greggo?"
"You. You think that I made Nick gay." He glared at him, placing the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead. "You've been thinking that since the moment he told you about us, which isn't true. It's not my fault that he lied to you about his sexual preferences, and it wasn't my idea to hide our relationship."
"So?"
"So, stop blaming me!" He snapped at him, gripping the bench beneath him, as he tried to fill his lungs with air again. Breathing heavily, Greg closed his eyes again, stopping himself from seeing the weird black blotches in his vision.
"Breathe deeply." Warrick instructed. "This doesn't matter; we can talk about it later."
Greg shook his head, "I wonna know. Unless you're secretly in love with . . . me . . . which I highly doubt . . . there's no reason why you should be so angry with Nick dating me. Tell me honestly . . . what's so wrong with your best friend falling in love with me?"
"Shouting is gonna limit your oxygen even more." Warrick scolded him.
"Answer my question." Greg panted.
"No." Warrick shook his head, trying to remember the training he took a few years ago. He vaguely remembered something about a brown paper bag, but he thought that had something more to do with people who were hyperventilating, not shouting and panicking at the same time.
"What's so wrong with your best friend falling in love with me? Am I that horrible?"
"Greg, you've gotta stop talking. If you don't, I'm gonna have to go and get a doctor to jam an oxygen tank down your throat or something."
"That's not a bad idea." Zoe spoke up from behind them, giving Greg a concerned look. "I came to check if you actually left. You wonna come back inside and have a doctor check you over? I'd feel better if you did."
"No." Greg quickly shook his head, feeling his heart quickening at the thought of going back inside.
"Okay." She raised her hands, assuring him she wasn't going to do anything. "The doctor wouldn't make you do anything you didn't want to do. We can help you get more oxygen in your blood, so you could at least go home to get some sleep. The doctor could even prescribe you something to help you calm down."
Greg shook his head in refusal again, being scowled at by Warrick.
"Sit up straight, try and relax your shoulders." Zoe suggested, gently placing her hand on his back.
"Do you want me to call Nick?" Warrick threatened him.
"Don't you dare, he has too much on his plate as it is." Greg warned him, sitting up straight as Zoe instructed. He followed the simple breathing techniques that she showed him again, already starting to feel a little less dizzy.
But Warrick wouldn't let him get up yet, not until they were sure he wasn't going to start again.
"I agree with him, Greg." Zoe spoke up. "I don't think it's wise for you to drive home alone. Panic attacks themselves can only last for a few minutes, but they come back as quickly as they started. I'd worry about you if you were driving. Maybe your friend here could drive you home." She suggested, even though they hadn't stopped arguing about another guy called Nick.
"Sure, I can do that." Warrick nodded, not taking no for an answer. "Is he okay now?"
"I'm fine!" Greg answered for himself. "Maybe I don't want the guy who hates me to take me home."
"I don't hate you." Warrick protested, keeping Greg sat on the bench. "I have never hated you, since your first day on the job. I always liked you, just not in the same way that Nick does."
"So it's not me that you like, thank god. Do you have a crush on Nick?" He blurted the question in front of Zoe.
"What? No." Warrick frowned at him, feeling his cheeks flushing, from the way Zoe was giving him a curious look.
"Then, do you have a crush on me?"
The older man answered him with a frown. "Do I seem like the type of guy to keep his crushes hidden? I'm not interested in you... or Nick." He quickly added, pulling his car keys from his pocket. "C'mon Greggo, I'll drive you home." He tried to change the subject.
"Better go with me, Zoe. I think he might try to cop a feel in the car."
While Zoe was giggling softly to herself, Warrick grabbed for Greg's arm, tugging him to his feet. "Would you shut up! You may have just died and all, but I can still hit you." He warned him, dragging him towards the parking lot.
"If you're not in love with me . . . or Nick, why are you so mad?" Greg asked him, prying his hand from his arm. He leant against the side of Warrick's car, waiting for the man's answer.
"I'm not... mad." Warrick finally looked up at him. "Get in the car."
"You called Nick a paedophile in Ecklie's office." The younger man reminded him. "You shouted at him after you saw him kiss me. Unless you're seriously homophobic, what's the problem?" As Warrick disappeared into the driver's seat of his car to escape him, Greg pulled open the door he was leant against, climbing in after him. "How can you not have an answer for hating us? In that case, you're just like every other homophobe who walks the earth. Well I don't care, its only Nick who seeks your approval."
"Why would he seek my approval?"
"Stupid him, he thinks you're actually his friend." Greg pulled his seatbelt on, wincing as Warrick's speakers suddenly started blaring. Warrick quickly turned it down for him, before Greg started complaining that his ears were bleeding, just like Nick always did. "Are you gonna answer me or not?"
"Not. Your questions are stupid." Warrick put his car in reverse, backing out of his parking spot. "I'm taking you home, and that's it."
"What's your problem?"
"You are my problem, Greg." Warrick snapped at him. "You've had this whole secret life with my best friend. And he's so much more than a best friend to me. He's like... family. Like the brother I never had. And you took him away."
"I took him away?" Greg gave him a confused look. "Unless you really are in love with him, a brother wouldn't care, even a pseudo one."
"I'm not in love with Nick." He shouted at him, putting the car in drive, almost flooring it into another car. Greg held his chest as the seatbelt pinched him, before he turned to look at Warrick beside him. "Don't say anything!" He warned him.
"I..."
"Shut up." He stopped him before he said anything else. "Unless you want me to crash us, keep your mouth shut until... No, you know what, don't open your mouth again."
Greg shook his head, not wanting to keep his mouth shut about this. "You're defensive. You're acting as though I'm a threat to your relationship with Nick. If Nick was a girl, it wouldn't be so confusing to you, right? I'm the other guy in Nick's life, and you can't handle it. You love him, that's why you don't..."
"I-I'm not... I'm not in love with Nick." He stammered, looking up as Greg gave him a smile. "Shut up. You really think that I'd call him a paedophile, if I were in love with him? I don't think of Nick in that way. I never have, and I never will. And I'm not gay!" He tried to convince himself, more than he was the younger man beside him. "Just keep your mouth shut. One more word and I'll hit you."
"Just so we're clear, you can't have him." Greg warned him, placing his shaky hands in his lap. "He's mine. Always will be."
More twists and turns still to come. I hope you're still enjoying this story.
Thanks so much for reading, Please Review!
~ Holly