CSI: Sanctuary: Chapter 10

A/N: For those who care, this is the start of season five. This chapter covers a LOT of ground, so I hope you don't feel rushed, but I wasn't sure how else to include all this information. Also, a WARNING: Spoilers abound in this chapter, to many, very specific episodes from the first half of the season.

"You're only picking women, G," Nick commented, resting his chin on Greg's shoulder to better view the laptop sitting on his boyfriend's lap.

"I'm picking women because we don't need any more testosterone in the lab."

Nick snorted. It wasn't the amount of testosterone Greg was worried about. It was the competition. He was probably thinking some new hunk might come along and steal his already married boyfriend.

"Besides, I find it easier to talk to women and become friends with them."

"What about me?" Nick did his best to sound hurt as he leaned back against the arm of the couch and brought Greg with him.

Greg turned to face him, tracing his jaw with a finger. "You, are another matter entirely," he said before landing a sultry kiss on Nick's lips.

Nick took hold of his wandering finger and held it captive, only ever wanting more from Greg. More kisses. More loving. More of everything.

"Nick," Greg left him with a low warning tone. "I have work to do. If I don't find a replacement for the DNA lab, then I don't get to go out into the field. Remember?"

"Of course I remember. That's why I'm helping you." Nick let him go and Greg resumed browsing the possible resumes on his screen.

"What about this one?" He pointed to one with the name Chandra Moore printed across the top of the first page. "She's got all the credentials and she's worked at a large pharmaceutical company."

"Yeah?"

"I already talked to some of her references. They say she's really good."

"I don't know."

"What don't you know? What could possibly be wrong with her?"

"Just..." Nick struggled to find the right words that wouldn't hurt Greg too much. "Something in the way she says she likes everything just right so she can get her work done. The way she keeps her area neat and clean, spotless, to perfection."

"Nick? Her workspace is supposed to be spotless."

"What about your workspace?" Even as Nick asked the question he found himself staring at Greg's open expanse of skin right behind his left ear. Something about it was entrancing.

"I only left books lying around. And maybe a beaker or two. But chemicals, never. That would be a breach of protocol. And I could be fired for that."

"Oh."

"I've already scheduled an interview with her tomorrow."

"Then what do you need my help for? Seems like you've got everything covered."

"I don't..." Nick's lips gently brushed over the skin in front of him. "...know." Greg shivered as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "Nick..."

"Yeah?" He kissed him again, loving the simple fact that Greg went ecstatic when he did this. When he did anything to him.

Greg pulled away, eyes falling to his lap. "Between training for the field and searching for a replacement on my own time... I'm sorry I don't get to spend much time with you."

"Don't be." Nick gave him another kiss. "You deserve this opportunity. And besides, we're together now so let's make the most of it. Yeah?"

Greg's eyes returned to his, a small flame of yearning and need burning there, becoming brighter and brighter as the seconds ticked by. He closed the laptop and dumped it on the coffee table without paying any attention to what he was doing. "Yeah."

Nick took the money Warrick held between his fingers as Chandra Moore, Greg's first attempt at a replacement, stormed out of the building after telling him she'd quit. He'd recognized the signs from the clipped tones of her resume and her cover letter. But Greg was so intent on getting a replacement, that he hadn't looked beyond her credentials.

Meeting Greg's gaze from across the hall, he saw the hurt look resting there and knew he'd have some explaining to do later.

Without asking for an invite, knowing by now that he didn't necessarily need one, he followed Greg back to his apartment.

"I can't believe you did that." Greg didn't even sound angry, but the way he dropped onto the couch, moping, gave him away.

"I'm sorry, G. I didn't want her to quit, honest."

"Then why did you have that bet with Warrick in the first place?"

"It had nothing to do with you. I tried to tell you she wouldn't fit in. She didn't have the right personality for the group of people she would be working with. That's all."

"So you were betting on my inability to choose a good replacement then. On the fact that I couldn't read her personality from her resume."

Nick stood near the couch, hands on his hips. "G, people like you because you're easy going. You make things fun and interesting when we need evidence. You brighten up the lab. It's nice to be able to come back from a grisly scene and see your smiling face. This is not an easy job. That job, alone, is not a hard one. But when you combine it with everything else that goes on in a crime lab as big as ours, the mix of people, the crimes that get to us, it's not as easy anymore. You should know that. She just wasn't the right person for the job. Even so, I still wanted you to succeed.

"Besides, I took the money knowing I was going to spend it on you. You deserve something special for all your hard work. And you know... Warrick would shit a brick if he knew what I was using his money for." Nick chuckled a little. "Take out's on Warrick this afternoon. Alright?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not very hungry right now. I had a really crappy day." Not even bothering to take his jacket off, or his shoes, Greg lay down and closed his eyes, a true picture of sadness.

It had been a crappy day. Nick had heard all about it. He knelt at Greg's feet and untied his sneakers, pulled each one off and set them on the floor. He then moved to carefully help him out of his jacket before removing his own shoes and laying down beside him.

"I failed my proficiency," Greg said.

"But Grissom gave you another chance, didn't he?" Nick wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his back in what he hoped were soothing circles.

"Only because I found a suitable replacement. And now she's gone."

"So find another one."

"It's not that easy."

"Sure it is. Just look for someone with a bigger funny bone than Chandra. You'll make it, G. If I know you at all, I know you'll find the right person and you'll pass your next proficiency."

"I'm glad you think so. I'm glad someone in the world thinks so."

"Hey, you want to hear something funny?"

"Not really."

"Sara and I got stuck on this crazy case of a dead alien."

"Alien's are not funny, Nick. Besides, this is Vegas. I'm not surprised."

"Turns out the guy actually owned a wedding chapel. He'd dress up as an alien and marry people."

Greg gave a little snort. "Why?" But even as he asked the question he was beginning to smile, even if just a little.

"I wish I knew. But he thought Sara and I were together. You know?"

Surprise covered Greg's face all of a sudden. "You? Sara? No way! Come on, everyone knows she's got the hots for Grissom."

Nick laughed. "I know. Anyway, he offered to marry the two of us right then and there."

"He did? What did you tell him?"

"No thanks. You should have seen the look on Sara's face, man, she looked horrified."

"I'll bet."

"Can I just... I don't... what he said... It made me think of things... you... mainly." Nick found himself suddenly stumbling over his words, unsure what he really wanted to say. "I just... I kinda wish it had been you sitting there beside me, instead of Sara."

Greg's eyebrows furrowed. "In what capacity? Working the case? Or...?"

"I don't know. I know I'm not ready to make any big decisions yet. But when he asked that, it would have been real nice if he'd been correct about his assumptions. If I could have said maybe at a later date. Not that I want to marry you in front of an alien. Or Elvis for that matter. That's too tacky for my taste."

"I think I know what you mean."

Holding each other close, the two men fell into an easy silence after a hard night at work. Not knowing how much time had actually passed, and not entirely caring to find a clock, Nick was startled when Greg asked him how much time he was spending with Cara. "It just seems like you're here all the time," he explained.

"I'm actually picking her up from daycare later this afternoon and I promised her we could watch Winnie the Pooh when we get home."

"That's all we really are," Doc's voice rang in Greg's head as he entered his apartment alone, images of a breastplate being removed from a dead body followed closely by the man's heart, filling his mind.

"It's what you do with it that counts," Sara had clarified later. Clarified. Sure. Like he didn't already know that.

He'd been good all night. Even during his first autopsy. He'd surprised even himself by not getting sick. But now, as he thought back on his night, and the things Grissom had made him do for his experiment, his late lunch felt like it was beginning to boil in his stomach. His hands began to tremble, even though he hadn't thought about the explosion at all. Cold chills ran up his spine and his whole body began to shiver. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep his body heat in.

Greg shuffled over to the couch and gingerly sat down, very aware of the sweat starting to gather on his forehead and chest. What was going on? Was he sick? Was it something with Grissom's experiment? Lord knew what had gone into that nasty bucket aside from bleach and his own waste. He reached for his cell phone and blindly hit speed dial. Putting it to his ear, he listened to it ring, and ring, and ring. He closed it, throwing it on the coffee table with a groan. Where was Nick?

All of a sudden the food boiling in his stomach went from a medium to a full boil, thick bubbles hitting the walls of his body, popping, and reforming again. Running for the bathroom, he just barely made it in time for everything to boil over into the porcelain bowl.

There was a knock on his front door. Moaning and feeling only slightly better, he stood up on shaky legs and went to answer the door, praying that he didn't look like he'd just thrown up everything he'd eaten that night.

"Coming, I'm coming," he mumbled, fumbling with the door.

"G?"

Nick...

Without thinking he took an extra step forward into Nick's arms and rested his head against his chest.

"You're burning up!"

"So cold..."

Nick guided him inside and onto the couch, pulling a blanket from the back and draping it over his shivering body.

"What happened?" Nick asked, brushing Greg's hair from his face.

"I was good. Didn't get sick."

"I think I'd have to go against that thought, G. You're definitely sick."

"First autopsy. Wasn't sick. I was fine. Hey, I tried to call... wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah? What was that?"

"Your first... how did it go?"

Nick sighed, his eyes clouding for a moment before they cleared. He snuck a hand underneath the blanket and rested it against Greg's still trembling stomach. "You sure you're not going to need to rush anywhere anytime soon?"

"Nothing left to get rid of. I'm fine." Greg hoped he was. He needed to be. It was his job to be taking care of Nick, not the other way around.

Another chill ran up his spine, making him shiver even more. Nick was right. He was sick. Perhaps too sick to take care of Nick, but none-the-less, his boyfriend didn't seem to notice.

Nick toed off his shoes and slipped beneath the blanket to join Greg, wrapping his arms around him, letting Greg bury his head in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Greg took a deep breath, happy to be smelling nothing but Nick. The fact that he'd stuck around, and was trying to warm him with his own body heat, even though Greg hadn't brushed his teeth, was a clear sign he cared. And cared more than anyone else ever had.

"It was a little girl," Nick said. "About the same age as Cara right now." Nick's heart sped up, and Greg heard him swallow hard. "She'd been hit by a car. Her mother's car. Her mother had run her over on purpose. She was a mess. I was ok during the actually autopsy, but as soon as I got away, I bawled my eyes out."

Such a very Nick thing to do. Of course he didn't throw up.

"This year sucks."

"But it'll get better. Seeing an autopsy is just one more part to becoming a CSI. That's all."

"What else is there that I have to do?"

"Well..." Nick thought about it for a moment. "I'm taking my firearms test soon. That's something you'll need to do when you reach level three. Once a year you have to take the test."

"Great." Greg shook his head, burying it further into Nick. "That's the last thing I need."

"They'll make you take a class first G."

"All of this is a lot harder than I ever imagined."

"But you still want to do it, right?"

"Yeah. Only my new replacement can't start right away. So I'm stuck waiting."

"You won't be waiting long."

"You failed your firearms test?"

Nick took a step back from his wife's screech, already wishing he'd decided not to come straight home after work. "Well, 225 is passing and I got a 220. So, really, I'm not that far away from passing."

"You still failed. Don't bother with excuses."

Greg, at the very least, had been a little more understanding and hadn't bitten Nick's head off over it when they'd talked earlier.

"So you failed. What's next? Don't tell me you lost your job. Cause, if you did... well, then I don't know what we're gonna do."

"I didn't lose my job, Kristy. You didn't even hear me out. I might have told you the whole story if you'd given me half a chance."

"No you wouldn't. When was the last time you said shit to me? About anything?"

"It doesn't matter what I try to tell you, you always yell at me. Sometimes I don't even know why I open my mouth."

Without bothering to finish their conversation, she huffed out something that sounded like she was late for work and brushed past him out the door.

Nick sat down on the couch and flipped on the tv to take his mind off his marital problems. He wasn't surprised by her exit. It was just like her.

"So, we're talking about cheating husbands," the early morning talk show host explained as the show returned from a commercial break. "A recent study found that those men who cheat on their wives and then leave them for the other woman are just as likely to leave the other woman for someone else. Now, with me here today is Doctor Jane Melville, an expert in psychology..."

Nick tuned out the woman, his own thoughts so loud in his head, he probably wouldn't have heard the smoke detector if it had been blaring right in his ear.

Once a cheater always a cheater. And he'd been cheating on Kristy almost since the day he started taking care of Greg after the lab explosion. What did that say about him?

With nothing good on, he turned off the tv and headed for bed. He wouldn't cheat on Greg. Would he? Greg wanted him to leave Kristy. It didn't take an idiot to know that. He cared about Greg more than he'd ever cared about his wife. He didn't want to think about hurting Greg that way. He might have screwed up his own life, but he didn't have to screw up Greg's as well.

Shaking his head, he pushed the horrible thought from his mind. At least Greg's night had been good. He had to admit Mia Dickerson seemed like a very capable woman with the right sense of humor to get along great with everyone in the lab. The last time he'd seen Greg, he'd been laughing with the new tech, a wide grin spread across his handsome face.

"If I can find the right lab tech, then you can go back out there and pass that test," Greg had told him just two hours earlier.

He knew he could do it. And he would.

"Greg?" Nick came into the breakroom, appearing relieved to find Greg alone. His brows were knit together with worry and the corners of his mouth had turned down into a frown as if weights had been pierced there.

"Nick?" Greg's first instinct was to hurry toward him, arms out, ready to accept him into them. He caught himself in time, stopping only a foot away from his lover, hands turning into fists, least he do something inappropriate for a work setting. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"We're being split up." Nick's Adams apple bobbed hard as he tried to hold in his emotions.

Being split up? Had someone found out about them? Had Warrick said something to someone? Why hadn't Grissom talked to him about this before a decision was seemingly made? Questions flitted through his mind before he even had a chance to fully process them and come to some form of logical conclusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I wish this wasn't happening."

"What's happening? Nick, what's going on?"

Just then the door swung open and the rest of the team filed in and found seats. Grissom was the last to enter and the pained look on his face had Greg falling onto the couch, tugging on Nick's sleeve to join him.

Someone must have ratted them out.

"I'm sorry guys, but I've got some bad news," Grissom began.

Greg felt his face heating with humiliation. This was not what either of them needed, especially Nick. The whole team did not need to know the details of why this was happening. Why couldn't Greg just claim he'd asked for a shift change because of a new girlfriend or something?

"Conrad is splitting the team up."

Eyebrows went up in surprise, mouths turned into round ohs, and sounds of protest were uttered all around Greg. Ecklie knew. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Nick's life was ruined. This was not the way to come out to the world. He would lose his daughter. Kristy would take her away and never let him see her again. His heart ached for Nick.

Their boss raised his hand for silence and when the room was quiet he began again, "This is something I had no control over. There's nothing we can do about it. But here's how it's going to breakdown: Greg..."

He didn't want to look at the man, as if he were a judge handing down a life sentence for something he hadn't done. But he had done something. He'd, had sex with Nick. They were in a relationship, and he would do anything for the man and his daughter as if they were already married. For Nick, he would take any and all punishment they were both due.

"...pending your proficiency, you'll stay on graveyard with me."

That was a relief. Wasn't it?

Hardly.

It only meant Nick would move to another shift, or be forced to leave the lab altogether. If he got days, he might have more time with his daughter, but other than that, Greg couldn't think of a plus to leaving graveyard.

"Sara, you'll stay on Graveyard as well..."

Sara? What did she have to do with this? This was about his undercover relationship with Nick. Wasn't it?

"...and Sophia will be joining us starting next shift. Catherine, congratulations on your promotion to head of swing."

What? Catherine was switching out? Did she hate them for their relationship that much?

"I know, I know," Grissom rushed before she could utter a complaint. "I know you wanted days. But Ecklie feels it would be best for the lab if you worked swing shift. You can take it up with him if you don't like it. Nick..."

Oh God. Greg crossed his fingers, hard.

"...and Warrick, I'm sorry to see you both go."

Huh?

"You've been some of the best CSIs I've ever worked with, but from here on out, you'll be working swing under Catherine."

Greg's stomach lurched at the news before it fell into the basement beneath his feet. His hand itched to move two inches to the left where Nick's fidgeted in his lap, to hold them tight and never let go. Would they ever be able to see each other again?

Everyone was getting to their feet and leaving the room.

"Yo Nick," Warrick's voice boomed in the silence. "You, me, and Grissom are doing breakfast. Yeah?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

Greg didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to his boyfriend before he was out the door and following his friend down the hall. It hadn't been about them after all, and the team still didn't know. However, the situation still left him feeling cold, empty, and alone.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The sound of two young boys on the other side of the yellow tape, acting out the crime scene he was helping to process, had Greg moving toward them, hoping they could give him some information. At the sight of him, they turned, and started to run.

"Hey, I just want to ask you some questions," Greg called.

As they dashed away, one knocked over a plastic bin, it's lid falling to the ground. Greg looked down, and felt blood drain from his face. He called Grissom over to see what he'd found, but when his boss got there, his feet felt like they'd been encased in cement, not allowing him to move out of the way.

The dead child in the bin was nearly mummified and couldn't have been more than five years old.

The sound of a gun trumpeting through the air signaled death's arrival for yet a third time that night. Yelling and screaming added to the chaos of people scattering in different directions. Forcing his feet to move, Greg ducked behind the nearby dumpster as his heart rate skyrocketed. What the hell was going on?

"Why are they shooting at us?"

Grissom ducked his own head beside him. "I don't know."

More shots issued forth and then ceased just as quickly as they had started. How many had been shot? How many lay bleeding? Dying? Would the shooter come for him next? Would he ever get a chance to see Nick again?

He sighed with a shudder. Nick was, hopefully, sound asleep in bed, while he was in the middle of a gun battle that could still kill him. Looking down at what had kept him by the dumpster when the two kids had run off, he was reminded of how fragile life really was.

To make matters worse, he didn't know when he would see Nick again. They hadn't had time yet to discuss his new work hours and what it meant for their relationship. He wished they had, so that now, when he was stuck out here in the middle of the night feeling slightly more vulnerable than usual he could be reassured by some form of normalcy.

But there was none. And he had to deal with that.

Grissom was already on the move, telling Greg to stay with the body of the little boy. The gun fight was over. For now.

While he waited for his boss to return, he dug out his cell phone and called Nick. When it was clear his boyfriend probably was sound asleep, he left him a brief message, "Hey, I know you're asleep, but I wish you were working this scene with me. It'd make me feel better. I'm ok, but shots were fired. Don't know by who or why yet, or who all got hurt. And... I found... a dead little boy. I just... wish I knew when I'll see you again. Or just talk to you... I miss you."

In a matter of minutes, he'd been partially stripped of his hero complex and left with the need for someone else to be the hero for awhile. But the child at his feet begged for help, for retribution, and he wouldn't let the chance to do something pass him by. He couldn't.

Things hadn't gone well at home, to say the least. Two full days and nights had gone by since Nick had broken the news to his wife that his shift had been changed and she hadn't uttered one word to him. Thankfully they hadn't needed to change their schedule of picking up and dropping off Cara at daycare, but things hadn't been as easy in the bedroom.

For two nights, they'd actually shared a bed during the same hours. The moment Nick joined her under the covers everything felt wrong. She stayed on her side, her back to him the entire night. She didn't offer any warm embrace, or seek any from him. There was no kiss goodnight. The bed felt cold, and uninviting, even with two grown adults in it together.

She was not Greg.

From now on, he determined that he would sleep only once Cara had gone to daycare and Kristy had gone off to work. Whether he slept at home, alone, or with Greg didn't matter.

After Kristy left for work the second morning following Greg's upset call from his crime scene, Nick grabbed his cell phone and made the call he knew Greg needed.

"I'm glad it's you," Greg answered.

"I'm sorry I couldn't call you back sooner. I miss you too. Can I come over?"

"I'm just headed home, and I would love for you to come over."

"I'll be right there."

Fifteen minutes later he met Greg on his doorstep. His boyfriend pulled him into his apartment and placed a deep kiss to his lips before letting him go.

"I need to run," Greg said, disappearing into his bedroom.

Nick followed to find him changing into his running shorts and sneakers.

Just a few minutes later they were jogging side by side down the length of Greg's street. No words had been exchanged since Greg's proclamation, but Nick was ok with that. Greg would talk to him when he felt ready to do so.

Nothing would ever get in the way of their relationship. He'd always told himself he was monogamous. He'd been proud of that fact when so many of his old college friends had trouble even pronouncing the word. But if he couldn't stay with Kristy... He pushed the thought out of his mind. He'd never really cared for her. That was a key point. How was one supposed to live with someone they felt nothing for?

Together, their feet pounded the pavement, almost in sync. Sweat ran down his back, and for once, he struggled to keep up with Greg as the other man let his emotions out through his pumping legs, squashing them on the pavement each time he put a foot down.

He cared about Greg like he'd never cared for anyone before. Didn't he? No one else had ever made him so happy in his entire life. Why would he cheat on someone who made him that happy? He wouldn't. He just had to keep telling himself that.

A mile and a half later, Greg let them back into his apartment.

While Nick closed the door and locked it, he noticed that his boyfriend was trembling from head to toe as he stared into space, breathing heavily.

"Greg?" He moved in front of him, cupping his face with his hands, smoothing his cheek bones with his thumbs.

"I'm ok."

"You just need to know someone cares. I get it," Nick said, bringing him into a tight hug. "When we get out of the shower we can work out a schedule, alright?"

It was more than alright and that fact was evident in Greg's shining eyes.

They'd never showered together before, and while Nick felt how erotic the situation could be, he understood that this time, there would be no sex. While the hot water steamed up the room, Greg stood stock still and let Nick methodically undress him and lead him under the spray. It was as if he were a zombie, or a puppet waiting for the puppeteer to pull on his strings.

Nick washed his hair, careful to keep his touch light and massaging. Beneath his fingers he felt Greg beginning to relax and once he was clean, Nick wrapped his arms around him and held him close, not wanting to leave the relative safety of the tub. His muscles tightened.

He would not cheat on Greg. He would not cheat on Greg. He would not...

"Nick?" Greg forced himself free of his embrace and turned to face him, his eyes ever critical as he searched Nick's face for meaning. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Nothing was wrong. But the strangled sound in Nick's voice gave him away. And the last thing he wanted was to project his own insecurities on Greg. After everything he'd been through recently, he didn't need that.

"You were holding me in a death grip. You're not thinking about the scene are you? I'm ok. I'm just fine."

Nick shook his head. "It's nothing. Really."

"Is it the team split then?"

But Nick wouldn't tell him. It was just a stupid statistic. Nothing to get all worked up about. It meant nothing. Nothing at all.

Turning him around, Greg began to massage a small dot of shampoo into his hair.