Find me in the River (2/10)

[dipenates]

Title: Find me in the River
Rating:  R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Fandom: CSI
Characters:  Nick/Greg, the workforce of the Las Vegas Crime Lab night shift, some of the Stokes family
Length: ~32,000 (Chapter Two: 3,554)
Spoilers: 2.03 - Overload
Summary: For Nick and Greg to get it together, Nick has to acknowledge some things about himself that he's been hiding for years. When he starts to come out to colleagues and family, a number of lives are affected.
Warnings: Child abuse. Domestic violence. Homophobic violence. Contains details of a number of crime scenes.
Author's note: This fic is part of the same universe as Passing Judgement on my Life and Fearfully and Wonderfully Made, although it can stand completely alone.

Didn't count on suffering

Greg was no slouch in the studying department, but even he admired the dedication that Nick showed to exploring his identity. They were spending more and more time at each other’s apartments, and Nick’s was now littered with books about the history of the gay rights movement and copies of Out and The Advocate.

They’d watched Harvey Milk together and cried when Harvey Milk and Mayor Moscone got gunned down by Dan White, although Nick got really quiet during the part where Harvey Milk demanded that his fellow activists call their families and come out. They had also been back to Garrarufa a few times, and some of Vegas’s gay bars, and Greg had helped him pick out some clothes that were a little bit more scene-y.

Greg noticed that however enthusiastically Nick had embraced the politics, in his own apartment at least, the whole being-with-other-men part seemed to be taking longer to take root. He had shown no interest in the erotica that Greg had lent him and all of the many men who approached Nick in Garrarufa or the bars they’d been in had received his politest Texas brush-off.

Greg held the faintest hope that Nick’s reticence was because he was interested in him, but Nick was being completely inscrutable on that point. They were existing, therefore, in a state of perfect tension; in which Greg was reluctant to make a move in case he lost someone who was becoming one of the best friends he’d ever had.

“Earth to Greggo!” Catherine interrupted his thoughts with the insistence of a woman holding a heavy pile of evidence that she was perilously close to dropping.

Greg took the box out of her hands and huffed at its unexpected weight. “Geez, what’s in this?”

“A whole section of flooring that seemed to be at the epicentre of the fire. They’ve put in props to hold up the ceiling, but the Fire Marshall was really doubtful that it was going to hold that well, so we decided to cut out a few square feet to analyse.”

“Didn’t you get photos?”

Catherine rolled her eyes. “Of course. We’ve taken swabs as well and captured airborne particulates, but it’s best to have access to the surface if possible.”

“Anything for me?”

“The garage didn’t burn and nor did a small shed at the back of the garden, so we’ve lifted all of the accelerants in both locations. We’ll be checking anything likely for prints but I’ll keep you posted on DNA.” Catherine tucked her hair behind her ears. “Of course, there’ll be DNA samples from the two bodies. It’s almost definitely the wife and child.”

“No problem. I’m dealing with the murder at the Sands that Grissom is leading on and that has brought with it a smorgasbord of DNA evidence, but I’ll slot your stuff in when you have it.”

Catherine nodded absently, already thinking about processing the evidence from the fire.

---

The Sands murder DNA results identified several possible suspects and Greg decided, after paging Grissom twice, that he should probably take them directly to the shift supervisor. He found Grissom watching the survivor of the house fire being interviewed by Brass and Nick.

Greg jerked his head in the direction of the two-way mirror. “You like him for it.”

Grissom took the sheet of results out of Greg’s hands. “I don’t. But we do need to know who thought he and his family deserved to lose their house, and possibly to die in it.”

In the interrogation room, Brass was asking about the wife’s movements; how she normally spent her days. He got an answer back about childcare arrangements and dry cleaners and then the guy’s voice cracked and he started to cry.

“Oh my God, Lauren. I didn’t tell her I loved her before I left for work.” Greg watched through the two-way, transfixed.

“I didn’t say it enough. I’ll never live with myself knowing that I could have told her more. If she spent even a second of today not believing that she was my whole world then I can’t stand it. My whole life was that woman.” He burst into sobs that were so racking they obscured all the rest of his words. Disconsolate with grief, he slid from his chair to the floor and wrapped his arms around himself.

On the other side of the wall, Greg shivered.

---

Watching Nick cook was one of the principal pleasures of Greg’s life. Through some alchemy, chopping and dicing and sautéing removed the tension from Nick’s features and rendered his face as open and innocent as a child’s.

Greg sat at Nick’s kitchen table and sipped his glass of wine as Nick put the finishing touches to plates of spaghetti and meatballs. Neither of them had a wide repertoire of dishes they could cook well enough to serve dinner guests, but Greg loved Nick’s meatballs.

There was something cosily domestic about the time they spent together. They could step round each other effortlessly in the kitchen now. He knew where the glasses and plates and ice cream were at Nick’s. He knew how the row of remotes on Nick’s coffee table worked his stack of AV equipment. He knew where the blankets were.

All of this excited and scared him in equal measure. The fact that Nick didn’t let people in was a given, and he felt like he’d been given a key to a rare and exotic walled garden. The scary part was that they seemed to be skipping stages in their relationship without ever discussing any of it.

Nick put the plate in front of him with a flourish and tossed the tea towel he had been holding the hot plates with over his shoulder. Sitting down, he picked up his fork and speared a meatball, wrapping spaghetti around it. He had just put the fork in his mouth when Greg spoke.

“Where are we going with this?”

Nick froze for a fraction of a second, before sucking the trailing spaghetti into his mouth. “Going with what?”

“This.” Greg waved his fork in a gesture that encompassed the entire table, with its neat place settings and pitcher of ice water.

“Dinner?” Nick’s voice was half hopeful, as if Greg would agree that yes, dinner was the thorny issue he wanted to resolve.

Greg laid down his fork and wished he’d thought of a better way to raise this. Nick looked so unhappy, as if his favourite toy was about to be taken away from him.

“I saw some of the interview that you and Brass did with the survivor from the arson.”

Nick blinked as the conversation jumped tracks. “Jason Salinger?”

“I had to take Griss some results and he was watching the interview. There was just something about the way he was talking about his wife that made me realise that we can’t go on like this. Or rather, “ Greg corrected himself, “that I can’t go on like this.”

Nick bit his lip. “I understand if you want to get back in the game. I know I’m probably cramping your style following you around like some kind of half-trained gun dog.”

Greg shook his head in frustration. “I’m not saying this right. What I mean is that the interview today scared me. At first I thought it was scaring me because I didn’t want to feel the world of hurt that Jason Salinger is experiencing tonight.”

Nick nodded his understanding.

“But then, I realised that wasn’t it. What I’m actually scared of is never feeling that strongly about anyone; of never feeling enough of that extraordinary, ordinary love that leaves you open to feeling that much pain.”

Greg paused for a beat on the edge of the confession that could smash their friendship into a million pieces. “Nicky, I think I’m falling in love with you. And I can’t keep doing what we’re doing without knowing if that means anything.”

Nick sat like a statue for a few painful seconds, and it wasn’t until he started to cry miserable tears that Greg realised that the response wasn’t going to be the one he was hoping for.

“I have to go,” Greg said, without looking at Nick, and practically bolted for the apartment door.

---

Greg was tossing back his first scotch when he felt a warm body slide onto the stool next to him at the bar.

“Can I have a two Glenlivets?” the man next to him asked the barman, and Greg was about to turn around and tell him he was wasting his time when he realised it was James Wilkes.

“Of all the gin joints,” Greg said, waving his glass at James. Even to his own ears his voice sounded brittle.

James raised an eyebrow. “And why, might I ask, are you climbing into that whisky bottle with such fearsome determination?” He looked around him. ”Where is Captain Beefcake?”

---

Nick cried until his throat hurt and his eyes were so puffy he could barely see through them. He swung wildly between anger that Greg had pushed so hard at a door that he was afraid to open and a gritty misery that his friendship with Greg was surely over. His entire body ached and he wanted to sleep for a year.

He realised how isolated he was; how the bond he was forging with Greg had supplanted other relationships. There was literally no one he knew who had any inkling that he and Greg might be getting romantically involved. There was no one he could discuss this with.

He’d thought about Warrick, but Warrick was good at the get-back-on-the-horse platitudes and drinking part of breakups. He wasn’t good with the immediate aftermath or the wallowing phase. Talking this over with Warrick would also involve making several revelations that he wasn’t sure he could handle the reaction to in his fragile state. He’d also considered Sara, but something in him couldn’t rely on Sara being kind instead of brisk, and she would have tens of questions also.

He leaned back on the sofa and felt completely, terribly alone.

---

“You’re kidding?” Greg had come to the end of his story and James looked as incredulous as Greg had ever seen him.

Greg shook his head. “No. I just left.”

James signalled for two more whiskies. “So, he comes out to you a few months ago? Things are going so-far-so-cute-I-could-die, and some grieving widower makes you decide to blow all of this slow and patient work out of the water with a grand, romantic ultimatum?”

Greg sighed. “That about sums it up.”

James sipped his drink. “You are such a stupid fucker.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, please.” James’s face was wrinkled with scorn. “It’s beyond ridiculous to fall for a boy in the closet but hey, the heart wants what it wants. Don’t you remember what it was like, though? To just assume he can blow past all of that shit because you want your Hallmark moment is the acme of fucking selfishness, dude. Of course he can’t tell you what he wants.”

“I thought he felt something for me.”

“He probably does. He probably feels a thousand confusing things for you because you’re his freaking spirit guide, man. I know that Astrid and Matthew probably drove you the store to buy gay porn when you came out, but not everyone comes from the same place you do on this.”

“You don’t know everything, Wilkie.” Greg sounded indignant.

“I know this, though.” His blue eyes held onto Greg’s brown ones and Greg felt briefly ashamed. James’s parents hadn’t spoken to him for five years after he came out, and they had only reluctantly reconciled with him at the funeral of his younger brother.

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” Greg suddenly felt drained.

James grinned suddenly. “If you can’t have Captain Beefcake, do you fancy a bed for the day?”

Greg bit his lip. The thought of going home to his quiet apartment to be with his thoughts was unappealing. “Don’t you have anything to do today, Wilkie?”

James smiled languorously. “Only you, sweetcheeks. I was just heading out for a spot of clothes shopping when I saw you come in here and thought you looked like you might need comforting.”

Even though he knew he shouldn’t, could almost taste the shame he would feel later when he woke up to go to work, Greg allowed James to pull him off his stool and lead him out into the sunshine to get a cab.

---

“Agent Stokes.”

“Annie?”

“Is that you Nick?” He could almost hear Annie’s brain running through scenarios that might explain why he had called her out of the blue. He usually only called on her birthday. “Is everything OK?”

“Sure, why?”

“You just never call me at work. In fact, baby brother, you hardly ever call me at all.”

Nick was quiet. Now he had his favourite sister on the phone he could hardly bring himself to speak.

“Nicky?” He could hear the tap-tap of Annie’s shoes on the floor in her office as she made her way into a more private corridor. “Are you sure everything is OK?”

“Yeah.” Nick’s voice broke on the word, and he restrained a sob only by sheer effort of will.

“Nicky? Are things ‘get on a plane’ bad, or just ‘I need an ear’ bad?” He had always admired the way that Annie cut to the chase. It no doubt made her an effective FBI agent, but it had also helped her negotiate life with six siblings.

“The second one.” He’d managed to get his voice slightly under control.

“What’s up?”

“Matters of the heart.” Nick huffed out a breath. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with a co-worker and had hoped that we were getting somewhere, but they gave me an ultimatum today. I guess they were looking for a declaration of love, and I’m just not in the place to make that. And now it seems the whole thing is over and I’m worried about how it will be at work. And I know that you met David at work and thought you might have an insight.”

Annie was silent.

“Annie, are you still there?”

“Nicky, is there a reason that you’re playing the pronoun game?”

“What?” Nick was confused.

“You said ‘they’ instead of ‘she’ or ‘he’. Is this co-worker a man?”

Nick’s mouth was suddenly full of the bitter taste of adrenaline and he nearly dropped the phone. One of the last things on earth that he had wanted to happen was suddenly a reality, and he’d done it himself. He’d practically told his sister that he was involved with a man. He felt like his life was exploding around him and, for a split second, he wanted to hang up on his sister and eat his gun.

“Nicky?” Annie sounded even more concerned than she had at the start of the call.

“I’m still here,” Nick croaked.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Nicky. It just seemed like you were trying to.”

He took a deep breath. His hands were still shaking. “Annie, no one can know. I truly didn’t even mean to tell you. I just needed sisterly advice on the other stuff.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Nicky. I won’t tell a soul. I promise” He heard her hesitate. “Nicky, I just need to know you’re OK.”

Nick was struggling to keep his voice level. “I just really need everyone else in the family not to know. This is all just too much.”

“Nick,” Annie put on her stern voice. “This is all going to be OK. I’m not going to tell anyone. Hell, we don’t even have to talk about it ever again unless you want to.”

Nick drew another shaky breath. “OK. Thanks.”

She cleared her throat. “On the sisterly work advice front, do you think it might help if you speak to this guy and ask him if you can keep it professional? He’s not your boss or anything, is he? He probably doesn't have any great desire to see both your careers tank because you didn't work out as a couple.”

“No, we’re kind of the same level and he’s a good guy.”

“Good then. On the sisterly romantic advice, I think that you have to be happy with yourself before you can be with someone else. Having grown up in the same house as you, I can understand why you might not be comfortable coming out to us all, but if you’re generally uncomfortable with who you are then are you in the right place to start seeing someone?”

Nick was crying again with sheer relief that she seemed to understand. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you with this a long time ago. You’re makin’ a lot of sense and I really needed to hear that.”

He could almost see Annie’s eyes fill up from where he was sitting, despite the fact that she was over a thousand miles away in Dallas.

“Nicky, you don’t have to apologise. As much as I love our family, it’s a hard place to keep a secret.” Her voice got really quiet. “In addition to the many other reasons for loving you, you’ll always have a special place in my heart for the secret of mine you’ve always kept.”

“No problem,” Nick said, shakily.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, recently.”

Nick frowned. “Why?”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “David and I are expecting a baby in six months. You’re the first person we’ve told.”

Nick grinned. “That is awesome, Annie. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. We’re really excited. I guess it’s just strange thinking about the last time I was in this situation.” Annie paused. “I’ve never told David about the abortion.”

“Why not?” From what Nick had seen of Annie’s husband of five years, David was a stand-up guy.

“Never found the right time, I guess, and this sure isn’t it. ‘Hey honey, look at the scan of our baby’s heart beating and then we can go for ice cream while I tell you about the baby I killed when I was 16’.” Annie’s tone was dry.

“Annie, you didn’t kill a baby. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Neither do you, brother dear.” He could hear the smirk in her voice, and he gave her silent props for the skilful way she’d routed the conversation towards that moment.

He smiled, feeling incredible relief. “I’m slowly starting to come to that opinion but it’s hard with Cisco’s voice ringing in your ears.”

“I bet. Just know that we’re not all lining up to agree with him.”

Nick smiled. “I do. Thanks, Annie. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby brother. Now skedaddle, so I can fight some crime.”

The smile lingered on Nick’s face for a while after he had hung up the phone. Moving purposefully, he went into the bathroom and started to clean his teeth. Looking at himself in the mirror, he realised that he knew what he had to do.

(Chapter three: Find me on my knees)