CSI: Sanctuary: Chapter 11

Nick awoke to a gentle shaking, having only just fallen asleep within the last hour. He'd spent the night cleaning while his wife and daughter slept. He'd done everything but vacuum and the thought of having to get up so early was just...

"Daddy!" a little voice whispered. "Daddy! It's Christmas!"

He blinked his eyes open to see his daughter standing before him. "Yeah, so it is pumpkin." He smiled and ruffled her hair. "What did Santa bring you?"

"Mommy said I hafta wait for you to open presents."

"Ok, ok, I'm coming."

Nick struggled out of bed and pushed himself to his feet. Feigning a stretch, he swooped down with his wiggling fingers and tickled Cara until she was giggling so hard she was almost crying.

"Come 'ere darlin'."

She let out a little screech as her whole body was lifted off the ground and carried down the hall. When they reached the livingroom together, Nick carrying her upside down by her ankles, they found Kristy practicing some new exercise thing she'd just gotten into.

Behind her, the Christmas tree was small, only a few feet high, stuck in a corner with only a few ornaments on it and one strand of lights. Kristy claimed anything bigger would be in her way and the lights were bad for her eyesight. Nick had only rolled his eyes and gone along with it to avoid a fight at the store. He and Cara had decorated it together one afternoon while Kristy was out.

His wife stopped exercising and allowed them to open their presents before breakfast. Nick figured they were just lucky, or maybe Kristy was feeling generous because it was Christmas. Whatever it was, he was going to do his best not to botch anything up.

Cara squealed when she opened her first gift from her father and found Eeyore waiting for her inside. "Yay!" She ran to Nick and gave him a big hug. "Now I can keep Eeyore happy!"

He smiled at her enthusiasm. With Pooh Bear already her best friend, he hoped when she was older she would remember this series of gifts as something special. Next year would have to be timid little Piglet.

Kristy handed him a small envelope and he opened it, already knowing what was inside. She'd renewed his gym membership for the year. Again. He thanked her, doing his best to sound as enthusiastic as his daughter had, and failed miserably.

He'd gone mall shopping for her, picking out a pair of earrings that hadn't set him back too much. He wanted her to think he cared, but not that much. He cringed inwardly, thinking of the small box sitting in his dresser that she would never see.

A few more presents were handed over to Cara before Nick handed her one last box, a little on the heavy side. He crossed his fingers behind his back, praying Kristy wouldn't have a heart attack. Cara ripped the paper off and stared at the letters on the box, unable to read what they said. She looked up at her father, confusion written all over her face, and pointed down at the picture of pancakes stacked on a plate, beneath the word Bisquick.

"What's that, Daddy?"

It broke his heart to know that his daughter had no clue what pancakes were. If his luck held out, he would be able to remedy that situation in just a few minutes.

"Nick!" Kristy was already fuming. "What the hell were you thinking buying her pancake mix?"

"It's Christmas, for heaven's sake! I thought I would make her pancakes for breakfast. There's nothing wrong with that!"

"Of course there isn't," sarcasm dripped from her lips. "Not for your apparent perfect body! Are you trying to get her fat? She will not eat that. Get that box out of the house!"

"I'm sorry sweetie. Maybe some other time." Nick gave his daughter a hug from behind while he managed to pry the box from her small hands.

Kristy got up from the couch with a huff and stormed off into the kitchen.

"I want pancakes," Cara said. "Do they taste good?"

"They taste wonderful."

"Then why can't I have them if they're good?"

"Just... because."

"What's fat mean?"

"Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing. Look, you got so many nice things. If you help me clean up all the wrapping paper maybe we can play with your Legos or something. Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Nick, I thought I told you to throw out that box. What's it still doing on the couch?" Kristy appeared in the doorway from the kitchen.

"Sorry. We got a little busy."

"Well, pick up this mess. I said she could have the Legos if she didn't create a mess all over the livingroom floor."

"Um... that's kinda the point of Legos. You can't really play with them without making a mess."

"Do I need to return them to the store?"

"What? Why are you being so negative on Christmas of all days?" Nick got up and left his daughter playing with her extra large Lego set to talk with his wife.

"I'm not being negative. I'm being realistic. We couldn't have a large tree because it gets in my way. She can't spread her toys all over the floor because they get in my way too. And you know pancakes are not healthy. I don't even know why you entertained the idea in the first place."

"Everything's always about you," Nick hissed. "You never think about anyone else but yourself. And you have this image of yourself that you project onto other people. You're afraid of getting fat, so you assume I'm afraid too. You've become afraid for Cara because she doesn't know any better. What are you going to do when she grows up and gets invited to birthday parties where they serve cake and ice cream? Huh? What then? Or at school when she trades her crappy lunch for some other kid's brownies? You can't keep controlling her like this! It's not healthy!"

"Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Always so high and mighty, aren't you?" Nick spun on his heel, picked up the box of Bisquick from the couch and stomped off toward their bedroom. He slammed it down on top of his dresser, where he stopped and tried to get a grip on his anger. If she'd been anyone other than his wife he would have hit her, and nothing would have held him back.

Trembling hands pulled open the top drawer and moved socks around until he found the small box hidden in the back. He fingered the dark leather, feeling the pain deepen in his heart, sharpening to a point. He didn't want to think about the decision he had to make, about the legal battles that would ensue if he chose to change anything in Cara's current life.

Making a quick choice, praying his daughter wouldn't hate him later in life for it, he threw on a pair of old jeans and a comfortable cotton button down shirt. He took the leather box from the drawer and carefully set it inside his kit from work. He found another bag to hide the Bisquick, and unplugged his cell phone. Flipping it open, he held it to his ear, picked up the bag and his kit and walked out into the kitchen.

Kristy was reading a magazine at the table.

"Yeah, Boss. Ok," he pretended to listen to Catherine on the other end of the phone line. "65 Tremont Street. Got it. I'll be there as soon as I can." He flipped the phone shut, and clipped it to his belt.

"I thought you had the day off?" Kristy asked without even looking up. "And tonight."

"I did. But there's a multiple traffic fatality, and they need everyone. Sorry."

"But it's fucking Christmas!"

"Yeah, it's Christmas. And you've been a bitch all morning. What difference does it make? At least I don't have to be around your attitude for awhile."

Kristy gave a snort and continued to read her magazine. Nick set his kit by the door, hiding the other bag between it and the wall. He found his daughter in the livingroom. She was still playing with her Legos, only now Eeyore was helping her.

"Why do you have to go to work?" she asked, her eyes large and pleading.

"Because they need me."

"Please come home. Mommy says most cops never come back home."

"Well, I'm not exactly a cop, but I promise you I'll come home. Just for you."

"Will you catch bad guys just for me too?"

"You'd better believe it, kiddo."

She smiled then, eyes shining.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too." He gave her a big hug, followed by a kiss to the forehead before he left the house.

He wanted to scream at Kristy. How dare she tell her daughter cops almost never come home. But he kept his cool. It would do no good getting into another argument. Cara didn't need to grow up in a house full of fighting between her parents.

He took the Bisquick and stashed it in the glove compartment for safekeeping. While he drove he kept seeing a different picture of his livingroom. In it, a large tree sat in one corner, covered in ornaments and so many lights he thought he'd go blind, proper stockings hung from the fireplace mantle, and other holiday decorations only his boyfriend would buy. Sitting beside the tree, wearing pajamas and Santa's red hat, sat Greg, carefully handing Cara a large box, just one of many still under the tree. Wrapping paper covered the floor along with ribbons and toys, lots of toys. The whole room looked like a tornado had blown through it, but no one was complaining. Joy filled the house instead, calming Nick, until he realized he was on the road, headed in the opposite direction of Tremont Street.

Picking up his cell phone he hit speed dial and waited a moment, but the phone didn't ring on the other side. It went straight to voice mail. Rather than leave a message, he dialed another number he'd only looked up recently for an emergency such as this.

"Hello?" came a deep male voice from the other end.

"Yeah, hi, my name is Nick Stokes. I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and I need to get into one of your buildings. 45 Huntington Apt. 312, actually."

"What's this about? Can't this wait? It's Christmas, for heaven's sake."

"I'm afraid it can't, Sir. I'm very sorry to have to disturb you, but this is case related. I just need to do a search for evidence."

"Is this about one of my tenants? Should I be worried?"

"No, not at all. He's not a threat. Just a... a victim... I need to search his apartment. Would you be able to meet me there and let me in, please?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure, I'll a... I'll be right there."

Nick hung up as he swung into the parking garage. Sweat was already covering his forehead and he remembered he hadn't showered yet that day. He hoped he didn't smell bad.

He was waiting by the front door when a heavy set man pulled up in a small sedan and parked in front of the door.

"You must be the Crime Lab guy?"

Nick showed him his badge as verification.

"What's this about again? I'm a little confused."

"It's alright. He claims he was attacked by a man we have in custody, we just need to prove it. That's all."

"He couldn't give you his own keys?"

Shit. Nick thought fast. "He lent them to his girlfriend and I can't seem to reach her. She borrowed his car when he got to the hospital early this morning, and of course his apartment keys were attached to the ring."

"Right. Well, here you go." The heavy set man let him into the building and lead him up to the third floor. "Do you need me to stick around? I kinda got family stuff going on at home... you know..."

"No, I don't need you here."

"Just, promise not to steal anything, and lock up when you're done. Alright?"

"Sure thing."

The man unlocked the door and Nick slipped inside the dark apartment. Once he was sure the man was gone, he closed the door and locked it behind him.

Knees feeling weak, he set his case on the floor by the door, and collapsed onto the couch. He then began to berate himself for lying to the building manager. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If the guy was suspicious enough, he would check with the lab, and then he'd have to explain himself to Catherine. And how embarrassing would that be? How does one explain that they broke into their male coworker's apartment without outing him... both of them?

He looked around at the familiar shadows of the tv and the dvd collection along the wall. He remembered the afternoon he'd sat up in the kitchen wondering if it was a good idea to leave Greg with the important numbers for his daughter. He swivelled back around to face the hallway. Without having to think about it, he stood up, toed off his boots by the front door and made his way toward the bedroom at the back.

Upon seeing the familiar form in the bed, chest gently rising and falling in deep sleep, he felt himself instantly at ease. He'd done the right thing. He'd gone to a lot of trouble, just for this moment, for the rest of the afternoon and night, but this was where he needed to be. He felt bad leaving Cara with her mother on such a special day, but he'd done his best to spend time with her. As he undressed, he vowed to take her to the library and find other ways to have fun outside of their home where Kristy couldn't nag him about everything she felt he was doing wrong.

Sliding into bed he found himself drawn like a magnet to Greg's sleeping form. He wrapped an arm around him, breathing in the thick scent of his lover, and let it go in a sigh. Home. This was what a home should feel like. If he could do nothing other than hold Greg in his arms, he would be the happiest man on earth.

And what happy man cheated on his partner?

Nick blinked his eyes. Where was he? He rolled over and saw his clothes dropped in a neat pile on the floor. Oh yeah. He was alone, but delicious smells wafted through the small apartment making his mouth water. The black out curtains Greg had installed several years ago were still drawn shut, though no light shown at the edges like it had when he'd first arrived. The alarm clock on the other night stand said it was already 8pm.

He rolled back over again, bringing Greg's pillow closer to his nose. "If you want to fuck me, then fuck me already. You know I'll give you anything you want." Greg was so open to him it was amazing. He was open the way Kristy was closed and it was a relief to know someone so accommodating, so freeing.

Thinking of the box still hidden in his kit, he wondered if he'd already made his choice without actually knowing it. It wasn't right to keep stringing Greg along, to keep sleeping with him, to bribe his way into the man's apartment, if he was only going to stay with his wife in the end. But he didn't want to give Greg up.

If he did choose Greg over Kristy, he knew he'd have a lot of explaining to do, to a lot of people. How would he tell Kristy? Or his daughter, who was too young to understand any of it? And his parents? He had five sisters and a brother who would just as soon see him dead then see him with another man. He'd been raised to lie in the bed he'd made and he'd gotten Kristy pregnant, which meant he couldn't leave her unless she died. He would be risking everything he knew, everyone he loved, and that thought alone scared him.

And then there was work. He would also be risking both of their jobs if they came out to the lab. Common sense told him no matter how hard they tried to hide it, if they were really living together, taking care of Cara as two fathers, they would be found out and it wouldn't go over well.

The thought crossed his mind that perhaps this afternoon was the last time he would ever sleep with Greg. His gift was still true, however. Greg had made him happy, very happy. While Greg kept busy in the kitchen he could easily slip out the front door, leaving the small leather box behind where he would be sure to see it.

Something else came to mind just then: Greg. With a broken heart. He would understand, but it would still hurt him.

Still, Nick had moved from Texas to Las Vegas for one reason: to sow his own seeds, and spread his own roots. As the baby of the family he'd had a hard time escaping them. And even though he was past the age of thirty, they still often treated him like a baby. He couldn't let them walk all over him. He couldn't let them color his choices in life.

Greg was adamant that the choice of who Nick chose to live with, who Nick chose to love, was his choice, no one else's. And while he knew the choice Greg wanted him to make, Greg was doing his best not to influence him.

At least, Greg thought he was doing his best not to influence him. That enticing smell from the kitchen caught Nick's nose again, influencing him big time.

Today was Christmas, at least for another few hours, and he would not break Greg's heart on this day. He wanted to be happy, and he wanted Greg to share in that happiness. He'd deal with his parents, siblings, and other coworkers when, and if, the time came.

Flinging the covers back, he got dressed and made his way to the kitchen where soft Christmas music was playing on a portable cd player. Normally, he'd have his music blaring, but where Kristy only cared about herself, Greg was very caring of other people.

Nick wondered if he was dreaming. Greg stood at the counter, a spatula in hand, king of his domain. Food surrounded him. Literally. And it hadn't all just arrived from the grocery store either. Was that a freshly cooked turkey? Cranberry sauce? Mashed potatoes?

Greg turned with a smile to face him and walked over to greet him with a kiss. "Hey sleepy head. Merry Christmas."

Yeah, it was a Merry Christmas. For a brief moment he wondered how the year had gone by so quickly, but one look at the man in front of him and he knew the answer to his own question.

"Hey." Nick felt himself smile. If this was a dream he never wanted to wake up. "What's with all the food?"

"It's Christmas. This is what you're supposed to have on Christmas."

"But... you didn't exactly know I was coming."

"No, but I knew you'd be around sometime soon enough for me to cook you dinner. I was prepared. And I know, you're going to say it's a lot for two people, but don't worry. I've got plans for the leftovers: your lunch! You can bring it to work. Or rather, I'll bring it for you so Kristy doesn't find out."

"Please don't play housewife, G. It doesn't... I can't..."

"I want to. And you need better food than what I've seen you eat at lunch."

God, Greg was too good to him. Way too good.

"So, dinner's just about ready. You want to do gifts first? Or eat first?"

"Gifts?" They hadn't done this the year before. He honestly hadn't expected anything from Greg.

"Yes, gifts, Nick. You do still know what gifts are, don't you?"

His smile widened into a grin and he agreed they could do gifts first. Back in the livingroom Greg made him sit on the couch while he went rummaging through a trunk in the corner. He pulled out two wrapped presents. One, a small box, the other, something much larger and longer, with no definite shape.

"Sorry, I didn't decorate. It occurred to me too late that I didn't have anything and you know I didn't decorate last year."

"I'm surprised. That doesn't seem like you at all."

"I know. I never really had anyone to decorate for until now, and... I dunno. But next year, I'll do it up right." He handed Nick the small wrapped box.

"What's this?"

"That's known as a gift, Nick. See, I thought you'd forgotten."

"No, I meant... why did you get me anything? What did you get me?"

"Open it and find out. I can't tell you that, it'll ruin the surprise."

Nick carefully pulled the tape from the paper and brought out the white box. He lifted the lid and glanced inside, his eyes going wide. Two keys sat on the bottom, attached to each other by a simple key ring. His eyes flicked up toward Greg.

"Because of the shift split, since we don't work together any more, I thought you might want these. You can come over whenever you want, whenever you need to." Greg paused. "The funny thing is... I got a call from my landlord this afternoon."

Nick swallowed a lump in his throat, only it wouldn't completely swallow. His face heated in embarrassment.

"He told me that according to the police I was attacked in my own home, and that someone was in my apartment collecting evidence. He also wanted to make sure I felt safe enough to continue to live here, and to also make sure my attacker wouldn't have it in for the rest of his tenants. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, CSI Stokes?"

His eyes fell to the floor between his feet, the carpet blurring as he stared. "I'm sorry, G. I tried to call, but you were sound asleep, and I just... I needed to see you."

A hand rested on his arm, offering comfort. "I'm not mad, you know." Greg chuckled a little. "I guess I should have given these to you on your birthday back in August, huh? Then you wouldn't have had to go through all that trouble."

"Thanks, G. This means a lot."

"I hoped it would." Greg handed him the second gift. "Read the tag. You'll tell me if I'm out of bounds, won't you?"

He read it: "To Cara. From Greg."

"Can I ask what you got her?"

"You said Winnie The Pooh was her favorite cartoon, right?"

Nick nodded, a new lump forming in his throat.

"It's one of the stuffed animals made to look like the original drawings. I didn't know which one to get so I chose Piglet."

He didn't... Greg didn't...

The hand still rested on his arm. Another hand cupped his face, thumb brushing at his cheeks where they were now wet.

"If you don't like the idea I can always take it back."

How could he explain... "Last year I got her Pooh for Christmas, and she was so happy, she cried. She loves him so much. This year... this year I got her Eeyore. And you know what she said to me?"

"What'd she say?"

"She said she'd get to keep him happy now because it always makes her sad when he's sad, you know? And she wanted to make him happy... and I thought... afterward I thought that next year... I would get her Piglet. That I would really make an annual tradition out of it until I ran out of characters."

"If you want to save it, you can take off my name and..."

"No. No, I couldn't do that. She'll love it. And she'll love you for getting it for her, for thinking of her."

Nick set the package down and pulled Greg's hands from his warm skin. "Wait here." He went to his kit, still sitting by the door, and brought back the leather box. He placed it in Greg's hand, holding it there while he spoke, "I'm not making any promises for the future, but after everything I've put you through, I felt you deserved something special, because you do mean a lot to me." He let Greg's hand go and watched him take the cover off.

"Nick..." Greg stared inside at the Titanium watch.

In place of the number twelve was the symbol of Wenger, the company that made the Swiss Army Knife. He reached in and pulled it out, noting that it also gave the date and told military time. Flipping it over in his hand he found the inscription on the back: "Thank you for everything." His fingers ran over the words, rubbing them as if feeling them there, seeing them, could make the world right, end world hunger, bring world peace. His eyes had gone somewhat glassy.

"How much did you spend on this?" He finally looked back up at Nick.

"I'll never tell."

"But it must have set you back a few hundred at least."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it."

"Then that's all that matters."

A/N: I'm so sorry for the terrible wait for updates lately. I guess life is getting in the way. But I'm going to do my best to get this work finished. Right now, there are seven chapters left plus the epilogue, so we're almost done! Yay! I've already started work on my next piece and I've got more ideas for the story that will follow that one which might now include a heavy dose of Master/slave stuff.

Anyway, here's the outlook for my future stories and the order I'm going to try to write them in:

Don't Worry Daddy-O

Lab Geek Extraordinaire

Don't Worry Daddy

Faith and Love (This story will actually be focused on Bobby D and his boyfriend who's running from a nasty ex. However, Nick and Greg will also play heavily in the story as the senior/support couple. It will most likely be told from Bobby's pov, and thus, categorized under Bobby D as the main character. I want all my The Love readers to read it though, since there are lots of aspects of The Love in it so I'll let you know when it gets written and posted. I decided to write this because I wanted to see the boys in a different light and very much a long time couple, but not as the main characters. I think it'll be interesting, and I can't wait to get started on it!)