CSI: Braden Sanders-Stokes: No Hope

Summary: Brass doesn't show up personally to deliver bad news if there's any hope left at all. Braden is six, in this, the eighth chapter.

WARNING: Character "Death"

Greg slid the puzzle piece into its place in the puzzle spread out over the length of the coffee table.

"Yay! You found the clown's face!" Braden exclaimed with a happy smile.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?"

"You're good at this, Daddy."

"But you're better." Greg poked his son in the ribs, eliciting a giggle from the boy. "Look at that awesome job you're doing on that edge."

"You think we can get this done before Da comes home?"

"At this rate, we'll have no problem."

"You think he'll like it?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't he?" Greg spoke the last three words automatically, while his mind went back to his last conversation with Nick many hours ago and his unanswered phone calls since then. Where was his husband? He should have been home by now. Or he should have called to say he was running late.

"Daddy? What're you thinking about?"

Greg snapped back to attention. "Nothing. Just how much he's gonna love your puzzle, that's all."

"Oh."

A loud knock sounded at the front door.

"Who would drop by this early in the morning?" Greg wondered out loud.

"I don't know." Braden looked up at him.

Another knock sounded.

"Coming! I'm coming!" he called, getting to his feet.

When he opened the door he could feel the waves of surprise and slight shock radiating from his head to his toes. "Jim? What are you doing here?" He looked beyond the Captain to see that he was alone.

"I'm sorry... Greg... there's no easy way to say this..."

He saw the hard lines on Brass's face. Hard, unrelenting lines that seemed to have grown deeper since he'd seen him the night before at work.

"No..." Greg backed away from the door, his hand gripping the knob. "No... I know you don't make house calls if there's any hope at all." He worried his lips between his teeth, biting down until he'd drawn blood. "No..." his forehead creased. "Please, dear God, no..."

"I'm sorry, Greg."

"Go back to the station and you call me!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "You call me! Damn it!" He spun away from Brass, hugging himself.

"I'm really sorry. We did everything we could."

From the livingroom Braden was watching his father, hands paused in midair with a puzzle piece clutched in his fingers.

Greg turned back around. "What did he do? Was he playing hero again?"

Brass sighed. "No. He was working the scene when the killer came back. He required surgery to get the bullet out... But he just didn't make it. At least Nick was a good shot. The other guy's got a bullet lodged in his brain for his efforts though."

Greg slammed the door in his face, before sinking to the floor where he'd been standing.

"Daddy?"

Greg drew his knees to his chest and hugged them, trying to quell the fear and the sharp pain rising within his heart like a knife.

Braden was by his side in a moment, sitting beside him, facing him, wrapping his small arms around him. "What's wrong, Daddy?"

But Greg couldn't speak, couldn't force the words out of his throat. He closed his eyes and was granted the smiling face of his husband. His late husband. He let out an anguished cry and hugged his knees tighter.

"Your lip, Daddy, it's bleeding."

He could taste the blood on his tongue. He bit down harder on his lips, burying his face in his knees.

A wet nose nudged his arm for a moment before he heard Comet lay down beside them.

When Braden got tired of staring at him, waiting for a response, he rested his head on Greg's shoulder, hugging his arm, keeping them close. Greg felt all his thoughts slowly drain away until his mind was completely blank and he was aware of nothing at all.

How long they sat there, he didn't know. Minutes? Hours? Finally, he wrenched his knees from his deathly grip and stood up, feeling drained, and still in a state of shock.

"Finish your puzzle," he heard himself say. "You'll want to have that finished for your Da when he comes home." And then he choked, half sobbed, and ran up the stairs to their bedroom, leaving Braden alone in the livingroom, staring after him with confusion written on his precious face.

Upstairs, Greg found himself resting his head on Nick's pillow, looking at the framed photographs on his husband's nightstand. The first had been taken on their wedding night. The second was a family shot taken not long after they'd adopted Braden and Comet.

"What about Braden? What about our life together?" his voice sounded broken, even to his own ears. "I thought we had a relationship." He paused to take in a deep ragged breath. "What are you doing going out into the field alone, without me?" his voice lowered to a whisper. "You know I can't follow you there."

Then he was silent.

Comet entered the room and nudged Greg's arm, whining. When he didn't reach out to pet her, or get up to feed her or let her out, she left the room and went back downstairs. Greg continued to stare into space, his knees to his chest once again, in a fetal position.

"I fed Comet," a small voice met his ears from the doorway, though he failed to acknowledge that he'd heard it. "And I was careful and made sure the gate was closed when I let her out in the back yard." There was a pause. "I had milk and a cheese sandwich for lunch. You want some? I'll make you lunch."

When he got no response, the boy went downstairs and came back a short while later with a glass of milk and a piece of whole wheat bread and a slice of American cheese on a plate. He held them out to his father, but Greg didn't move. He set them both on Nick's nightstand before giving Greg a hug and a kiss.

"I love you, Daddy."

He watched his father for a moment before finding his way back down to the livingroom.

"Nicky..." Greg whimpered to the silent room, to whomever was listening upstairs. "Nicky...please... don't do this to me..."

The house phone began to ring and Braden appeared with the cordless in his small hands. He held it out to Greg. The phone continued to ring, as he noted the uneaten lunch and the fact that his father hadn't moved since he'd last seen him.

"Da told me never to answer the phone... I'm not old enough yet..."

His words fell on deaf ears and went unanswered. The phone stopped ringing. Looking at the floor, Braden's shoulders slumped as he turned and left the room.

The house phone began to ring again. Greg's son appeared in the doorway, but he hadn't brought the phone with him this time, and he didn't enter. He peered around the corner, watching his father, until the phone stopped. He disappeared again.

On his own nightstand, Greg's cell phone started ringing, a hard rock song as his ring tone. He wasn't sure how long it rang before it stopped.

Someone was knocking on the front door. He thought he heard a voice call out, but wasn't sure. There was the lock clicking back and the door opening. Was Nick home already?

"Greg? Greg, are you here?"

Then the sound of scampering feet, of two beings running. Greg closed his eyes, and tried to shut out the noise. Feet on the stairs. Several feet. Greg hugged himself tighter, willing it all to go away, closing himself off from the world.

"Greg?" a familiar voice was at his bedside.

Someone was falling to their knees beside him. A large hand gently landed on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Greg, honey, it's me. Jack. Open your eyes. Come on. Everything's going to be ok."

Greg tried to curl into himself even further.

"Please, Daddy," the small voice sounded scared and worried.

"Everyone's working hard to solve the case. Bobby called me to come check on you. Said you weren't answering your phone... They made a mistake, Greg. The hospital made a mistake." Even though he wasn't getting a response, Jack soldiered on, intent on getting his important message to Greg. "The man that shot him was Nicholas Stokers. He had a bullet lodged in his head, and they tried to get it out. Hours of surgery. But he didn't make it. Nick, your Nicky, only had two bullets to his shoulder. They were able to get them out and patch him up. He's gonna be just fine, Greg."

Jack paused. "Come on, let me drive you to the hospital. I'll drop Comet off at our house and Austin can look after her. I'll watch Braden for you. But you've got to open those eyes for me and get up. Nick wouldn't want to see you like this, would he?"

Greg's eyes blinked open and he registered Bobby's husband kneeling in front of him. Braden was standing in the doorway hugging Comet. Jack asked him to get a wet paper towel. When the boy returned Jack gently wiped the dried blood from Greg's lips without a word.

"He's ok?" Greg managed, sounding hollow.

"Yes. Nick's ok. He's been asking for you." He held out his hand and helped Greg to stand up and stretch his muscles. "Braden, if you have anything you want to take with you to give you something to do, you should go get it now."

The boy ran down the hall toward his bedroom.

Greg was lead downstairs and left at the front door, clutching the arm of a nearby chair for support as images of Brass delivering bad news rocked through him..

Jack came back a moment later with Comet on her leash. Braden appeared with his backpack. Jack shut the lights off and together, they left the house. Greg realized the sun was beginning to set as his friend used the spare key Nick had given him when they'd first moved in to lock the door behind them.

When they arrived at the hospital after dropping the dog off with Jack's daughter, Greg was ushered down the hall and stopped at an open door.

"Da!" Braden exclaimed.

"You stay out here with me," Jack whispered. "You can see him in a little bit."

"But why?"

Greg looked up and saw his husband in the hospital bed, wide awake. Nothing else captivated his attention in that moment. His lips quivered. His eyes welled up, and tears finally fell, rolling and tumbling down his cheeks as if they were a mountainside waterfall. His breathing came in gasps as he entered the room and reached out blindly with his fingertips. Nick's hands met his and brought them down to his chest where Greg could feel his steady heartbeat.

"I'm sorry the hospital screwed up, babe," Nick whispered.

"Shut up. Just shut up." Greg carefully lay down beside him, resting an arm around him, sobbing into the flimsy hospital gown. "I love you, Nicky."

"I love you too." Nick leaned over as best he could to give Greg a kiss to the top of his head.

"Please don't ever leave me."

"I'm not planning on it, G. You keep me going in this world, you know that? I need you too much."

Greg looked up at Nick, his eyes shining, his face still running with tears. "I... I don't know what happened. Brass showed up... and I lost it..."

"It's alright. It's all over now," Nick soothed. "How's Braid? Did you tell him?"

Greg shook his head.

"Da! Da! I'm right here!" Braden ran into the room then, wrenching out of Jack's grasp on his shoulder out in the hallway. He climbed up onto the bed on Nick's other side and gave him a hug. "I've been a big boy today! I fed Comet and took her outside and I made sandwiches." His expressive brown eyes looked worriedly over at Greg. "But Daddy didn't have any."

"I'm sorry, Braid." Now all Greg felt was guilty. "I guess I just wasn't hungry." He reached out to the boy and squeezed his hand, trying to wipe his tears away. "I didn't mean to ignore you."

Braden gave him a calculating stare, as if he were testing Greg to see if he was telling the truth. "Why are you crying, Daddy? Da cries during sad movies, but you don't."

Nick rubbed small circles into Greg's back as he spoke, "there was an accident at work and they had to bring me here to patch me up. Another man died here with a similar name to mine and they gave your Daddy the wrong information."

"So... they said you... you... that you..." the boy looked at him with wide eyes starting to turn as glassy as Greg's.

"Yeah they did."

He dived back in for another tight hug. "Why'd he die?"

Nick gave a heavy sigh. "Someone shot him."

The brown eyes exploded and his head shot up. "Why'd they do that? You said that was bad."

"It was in self-defense."

Greg saw the pained look on Nick's face.

"What's that?"

"The man that died was going to hurt the other man, so he did what he could to protect himself."

"That's ok, though, right? If he was gonna hurt him?"

"I hope so. He'll just have to wait and see what a judge and jury have to say."

The boy nodded, seeming to recall the explanation of what a judge and jury were from their conversation a few weeks back. Greg only held Nick tighter at the thought of a jury convicting his husband for protecting himself.

"Is the other man, the one he was gonna hurt, is he ok?" Braden continued his sudden list of questions.

"Yeah, kiddo. He's ok, now that he's back with his family where he belongs."

"He's got a good family then?"

"Only the best. I know he wouldn't trade them for the world." Nick smiled.

Braden curled up at his side, resting his head on his father's chest close to Greg's.

"Good. Then he'll be ok."