Author's Note: After Monday's short chapter, here's a meatier one for you. Once again, thanks to all of your for reading and reviewing. I really, really appreciate the feedback (all kinds).
Chapter Seven: In A Moment of Need
Nick was just arriving at work when Catherine poked her head into the locker room and smiled at him in greeting. "Hey, Nick, how's it going?"
"Can't complain," Nick replied, hanging up his jacket in his locker. "Tell me you have a new case for me. We just put away that club owner for murdering her girlfriend, and we don't have any more leads on the stabbing case."
"Got your basic B&E if that interests you," Catherine replied. "And let Ray tag along, would you?"
Nick smiled. "Not a problem."
"Also, have you seen Greg?"
Nick's smile dimmed. "Greg? Not since Friday. Why?"
"He hasn't shown up yet," Catherine said. "I've tried his cell, but he's not answering."
"He'll show up," said Nick confidently, if a little bitterly.
"You sound upset."
Nick hated how astute Catherine was sometimes. "Just… a little."
"You and Greg aren't having a little fight now, are you?" Catherine asked in a warning tone. "Because if you are, I suggest getting over it. You're still working that stabbing case together."
"No, we're not fighting," Nick said as he closed his locker.
"Well, obviously something is up," said Catherine, taking a seat on the bunch. "Wanna talk?"
"The only person I want to talk to about this is Greg," said Nick, leaning against his locker. "Unfortunately, he refuses to listen."
Catherine offered him a fond smile. "Make him listen."
Nick watched her a moment and shrugged it off. "Yeah, maybe one day I will."
Catherine raised her eyebrows, suggestively. "Why not today?"
Nick shook his head. "He's not ready to hear it today."
Catherine smiled at him reassuringly. "Ray is waiting for you in the lobby."
"I'm on my way," said Nick.
When Nick and Langston returned to the lab, they passed Catherine's office and Nick told Langston to go on ahead. He saw Catherine at her desk with her head in her hands, looking frazzled and confused. Nick knocked on the door and asked if she was OK.
"I don't know what's going on…" she said, shaking her head. "I've left him messages both on his home phone and his cell, and he hasn't returned them."
"Who?" Nick asked.
She blinked at him. "Greg," she explained.
"Maybe he's sick," Nick suggested. "Passed out somewhere and can't hear his phone. Or maybe he's with his friend at the hospital and just forgot his phone at home."
Catherine shook her head. "He was begging me for any cent he could squeeze out of his job," she explained. "He wouldn't miss work like this unless something was wrong."
"Maybe something happened with his friend," Nick guessed.
"I thought you said he was doing better," said Catherine, suddenly very worried.
"Greg could have just told me that to get me to stop asking," said Nick.
She smiled, sadly. "He would probably do that, too."
"Look, if you like, I can stop off at his apartment and see if he's there," Nick offered.
"He may not want to talk to anyone, if something's happened to his friend," said Catherine. "Then again, he may just be too scared to ask. Yeah, I think you should go. Tell him hi for me, would you? For all of us?"
"Will do," Nick assured her, and walked away, trying to think of any reason that Greg would miss work that didn't end in tragedy.
Nick wasn't all too concerned, until he reached Greg's apartment and found that the door wasn't closed properly. He easily jimmied it open and walked warily into the place, one hand hovering cautiously over where his gun rested in his holster.
"Greg?" he called out, tentatively.
The apartment was a mess. Clothes were scattered all over the floor, and the curtains were pulled half-way open in a manner that looked as if they couldn't decide whether they wanted to be open or closed. Despite the mess, it didn't look like there had been any sort of struggle, which Nick decided to interpret as good news. The kitchen was more or less in order. There was a box of Ziplock bags left out on the counter, as well as a fruit bowl turned on its side. He made his way into the bedroom and found sheets on the floor, and the bed itself was unmade. There was a crease in the fitted sheet that suggested something square and heavy had once been there.
When he moved to the bathroom, Nick began to understand. The mirror door of the medicine cabinet was flung open, and Greg's toothbrush was missing, among other things. Nick looked back into the bedroom and scanned the room for a note or any sign that Greg might have left to alert his friends about where he had gone.
Then again, maybe he learned from Sara and just… left, Nick thought, resentfully.
His keen eyes found a frame on the bedside table that was face down against the tabletop. He immediately made his way to it and picked it up, examining the photo behind the glass. The picture displayed Greg, his arms around another man's waist, a haughty but happy grin on his face as the man in his arms tossed back his head and emitted a barking laugh. The other man was vaguely familiar, but Nick couldn't for the life of him place where he'd seen the face before.
Nick held on to the photo for a long time and stared at it, his heart beating just a fraction faster than normal. Greg's words had always implied what his relationship to Neil was, but now Nick had something much more solid than Greg's words in his hands. Evidence. His fingers touched the glass where Greg's face was depicted and he sighed, regret swelling in his chest.
He should have spoken up years ago. But he'd held his peace, because friendship always came first. And for a long time, Nick hadn't wanted to change or compromise that. Not for anything. And neither, it seemed, did Greg. But Nick knew that that wasn't the only reason he had kept silent all these years. He had been afraid of Greg's reaction. And now that he knew that his instincts had been right all along, he couldn't say a word. Not while Greg's lover was dying.
Nick kept the photo in his hands and entered the living room where he saw Greg's phone in the charger. There were several messages on it. Nick wondered why Greg would leave his phone behind if he'd planned on going somewhere. There were only two reasons that he would have done that. He could have been in such a hurry to leave that he'd forgotten he was charging his phone. Or, he could have left it behind on purpose, so no one would be able to contact him.
Nick lifted the phone to his ear and accessed the voicemail. The very first message was delivered by a scratchy voice that didn't identify itself.
"Greg? Where are you? You said that it wouldn't take you long, and I'm waiting. The sooner I can get out of here, the better, so hurry up."
The next message was the same person, and this time the voice sounded smaller, and more afraid. "Greg? Babe? Why haven't you called me back? It's been several hours now and I don't know where you are. I talked to Dr. Norton. He told me everything. Said you knew. Said you were going to tell me. You didn't tell me. Babe, why didn't you tell me? Where are you? I really need you right now, OK? I want you to tell me about the dog. Call me back. Please, babe, I need you."
The same person left the third message on Greg's phone, and this time it was just tired and hopeless. "I get it now," he said, flatly. "I know why you're not here. I know that you're not coming. I thought you should know, I don't blame you. I would have left a long time ago, if I were you. But I love you, babe. Still do. Always will."
Nick held the phone slightly away from his ear, feeling like he'd just eavesdropped on a highly personal conversation. The fourth message, as it turned out, was left by Catherine asking why Greg wasn't at work. There were no more messages from Neil.
Nick carefully hung up and looked at the phone in his hand. He was at a loss for what to do next. He had no idea where Greg had gone, or how to reach him, and he felt like nothing else in the apartment could give him any more clues. If he went back to the lab and told Catherine that Greg had fled, she would worry about him, maybe send a search party, but Nick had a feeling that wasn't what Greg wanted at the moment.
And then, suddenly, the phone in his hand began to ring, making Nick jump. He looked at the flashing caller ID, which read "Norton."
Cautiously, Nick held the phone to his ear again and said, "Hello?"
"Mr. Sanders, I'm glad I could reach you," came the voice of an older man on the other end. "This is Dr. Norton. Neil has informed me that you haven't been answering your phone as of late."
"Actually, Mr. Sanders is… incapacitated," Nick improvised. "My name is Nick Stokes. I'm his friend."
There was a pause on the other end. "I see. Well, do you know when I will be able to speak with Mr. Sanders?"
Nick shook his head, and then suddenly remembered the doctor couldn't see him. "Unfortunately, no. I have no idea when he will be available again." He hesitated. "You can leave a message with me, though, if you like."
"Are you a member of Neil Cooper's family?" Dr. Norton asked.
"No," Nick admitted. "But I am a member of Greg's."
"I am afraid I cannot discuss this information with you," said Dr. Norton. "Greg Sanders is listed as Neil's emergency contact and primary care giver. I cannot give this information to anyone outside of Neil's family other than Mr. Sanders."
Nick nodded, understanding. "Is it visiting hours right now?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact it is," Dr. Norton said. "Are you planning to stop by?"
"Maybe," Nick mused.
"Is Neil expecting you?"
"No," Nick said, "but tell him that a friend is coming to see him."
"He'll like that," said Dr. Norton, sounding please. "Good day, Mr. Stokes."
He had asked for the room number at the front desk, and now he stood outside of the closed door to the room which would lead him to Greg's lover. He had the strange feeling that he shouldn't be there. As if coming here were, in some ways, a violation of the trust he shared with Greg. At the same time, he had to meet the man that Greg had run away from. He needed to know…
He knocked on the door first, waited a moment, and then opened it, looking in cautiously. The man on the bed was laying down, his back facing the door, and he did not move when he heard Nick enter.
"I didn't think you'd come back," he said quietly. "I thought you'd left for good."
Nick froze and searched for something kind to say. "I'm not Greg," was all he could think of.
The man in the bed stiffened, then slowly turned to look over his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken. There was an unnatural dip in his nose and his lips were gray and chapped.
"Then who are you?"
Nick held his breath for a second. "A friend."
Neil rolled over in the bed and winced. "Whose friend?"
"Greg's," Nick said. "And… yours. If you'll let me."
Neil's eyes didn't leave Nick. They were sharp and confused. "Where is he?" he asked, choking on his sob. "You have to know where he is."
Nick shook his head, truly regretting that he didn't. "I'm sorry, Neil."
"He didn't send you here, did he?" Neil asked, as if he already knew the answer.
"No, he didn't," Nick replied. He took the vacant seat by Neil's bed. "My name is Nick. I work with Greg. He didn't show up today."
Neil gave a curt laugh. "Not hiding in his work anymore? Wow, he really is gone."
Nick could hear the quiet resentment in Neil's tone. He realized that the message Neil had left on Greg's phone had been to sooth Greg's conscience. Neil really did blame Greg. For everything.
"He wanted… to stay," Nick told him, at a loss for anything else to say. "He did, but sometimes…"
"You just have to run," Neil said, his eyes glazing over. "I'm dying, you know."
Nick nodded. "So I've heard."
"Greg sees death every day," Neil breathed, then smiled. "So do you, I bet. Yet he still couldn't stay and watch me die."
"It's much more difficult dealing with the dying than with the dead," Nick explained.
"I guess so…" Neil whispered, then started coughing. Nick leapt to his feet when he saw blood on Neil's hands, but the blond held up a hand, signaling him to stop. When he calmed down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he somehow managed a smile.
"Happens a lot now," he said. "Back to my old treatments. No point in paying for something that isn't working."
"How did you and Greg meet?" Nick asked.
Neil smiled, fondly. "Years ago," he said. "Two… no, three… no, two years ago now, I think. He was… on a case, and I was a witness. I work for the Las Vegas Sun, or at least, I used to. My coworker had been killed…" He squinted at Nick. "Wait a minute," he said. "I remember you now. You were there. You're Nick." He closed his eyes and smiled. "Oh yes, I remember you now."
"Am I that memorable?" Nick asked, unable to contain a smile.
"He talks about you," Neil said, his eyes half-lidded as if he were about to fall asleep. "All the time. All about how smart you are and talented and..." His smile grew. "Ruggedly handsome…"
"He said I was handsome?" Nick asked, skeptically.
Neil swallowed and blinked. "No, but I just did." He shook his head. "No, he never mentioned that. What he did mention was that he never felt like he could ever be as good as you. Little Greg in big Nick's shadow…"
"He hated me for that, did he?" Nick asked.
"Interestingly, no," said Neil, raising his eyebrows. "It just made him try harder to be more like you. Always trying to be just… like… you…" Neil yawned, then blinked rapidly. "Sorry. New meds make me sleepy. You don't have to stay here, with me, if I fall asleep."
Nick moved his chair closer to Neil's bed. "I don't have anywhere else to be tonight." It wasn't entirely true, but he knew that Catherine would understand.
Neil reached out a hand and took Nick's, turning it over to see his palm and tracing the lines there. "Greg thought he could tell me my future by looking at my hands…"
"Ah, yeah," Nick said. "Nana Olaf teach him that?"
"Well, it certainly wasn't Papa Olaf, who kept telling him to cut it out," Neil said with a knowing smirk.
They shared a quiet chuckle, each of them thinking of Greg. "What did he tell you?" Nick asked.
Neil said nothing as his smile faded, his focus completely on Nick's hands. "I can tell a lot about people from their hands, too," he said. "Not the way Greg does, though…" He frowned. "Can't see anything in you, though. I guess I'm not as talented as I thought."
He pulled his hand away from Nick and turned over in the bed. Nick sat there in awkward silence, trying to think of another conversation starter, when he heard Neil say, quietly, "If you loved someone, Nick, could you leave them when they needed you most?"
Nick knew exactly what Neil was talking about. "I believe it's possible to love someone, and still fail them." He paused. "He didn't do this to you on purpose, Neil."
Neil pulled the covers more tightly around himself. "Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. But motive doesn't matter, really, does it? Doesn't make it hurt less…"
Nick sighed. "Greg's only human, Neil," he said. "I… don't know what else to say, other than that."
Neil was quiet. For a moment, Nick wondered if he'd fallen asleep. "He never said it back," he whispered at last. "Barely ever let me say it."
Nick wasn't sure how, but he had a pretty good idea of what Neil was talking about. "You think he's perfect?"
"For a while… yeah," Neil confessed. "Weaker wills would have left way before he did. But in the end… he still left."
"Even the strongest of us can't be strong all the time," Nick said. "He got scared. He bolted. It doesn't have anything to do with how much he cared about you."
"It's nice of you to say that…" said Neil thoughtfully. He took a deep breath. "I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound. I grant I never saw a goddess go. My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare as any she belied with false compare…"
Nick frowned, recognizing that Neil was quoting but not sure of the source. "Shakespeare?" he guessed.
"I think I understand now," he said quietly, his voice sounding far away.
Nick smiled. "Maybe you do," he said.
Neil didn't speak. Nick saw his shoulder move in a steady rhythm. The CSI rose to his feet and turned out the lights, but he didn't leave.
He stayed.
And he wasn't exactly sure why.