Find me in the River (3/10)

[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 One: 3,536)
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.


Find me on my knees

Nick had hoped to speak to Greg before the start of the shift but he wasn’t answering his phone and leaving a voicemail seemed out of the question. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say; was certain that he couldn’t do it in the two minutes voicemail would give him. He felt a leaden lump in his stomach at the thought of going into work and facing Greg, but he managed to resist the temptation to call Grissom and beg for a last minute personal day. Time to gut this out, Stokes.

Although Greg didn’t usually stay over, the apartment still felt empty somehow as Nick moved around getting ready for work. The plates of congealing spaghetti on the table echoed the greasiness of the misery that seemed to be lying over him like a blanket.

---

Greg woke up when James appeared beside his bed with a mug of coffee and an English muffin spread thickly with butter and topped with mashed bananas.

He smiled up at James as he put the breakfast tray down on the edge of the bed. Although he felt sick with the after-effects of the whisky they’d drunk earlier and queasy with remorse at having slept with James, none of that was James’s fault.

“This still your hangover cure of choice, Sanders?”

“Yeah. It’s the potassium and the magnesium in the bananas that works to get rid of the headache and nausea.”

“Whatever, nerdling.” James was grinning at him. “I couldn’t remember what time your shift starts, so I hope you have time to eat this.”

Greg glanced at the alarm clock next to James’s bed. “Yeah, I should be fine. Can I take a shower?”

James waved his hand at a pile of fluffy towels that he had left on the end of the bed.

Greg sipped his coffee and raised his eyes appreciatively at the taste. “You’ve always been an excellent host, Wilkie.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s only polite. If a delightful boy has spent a couple of hours pleasuring you in deliciously depraved ways then a clean towel and some mashed bananas are really the least he deserves.”

Greg smiled, lazily. God, this was a mistake.

---

Grissom was tapping his pen against his thigh impatiently by the time Nick joined the rest of the night shift CSIs for their assignment meeting, even though it was still a few minutes until the shift was actually supposed to start.

“We have a small problem with the Salinger fire,” he announced. Nick shook his head as Warrick held out his bag of M&Ms and Grissom frowned at them over the top of his clipboard.

“Day shift pieced together some fingerprint fragments that Catherine found on the cap of a plastic bottle full of gasoline, which matches the chemical signature of accelerant found at the scene. After some enhancement, the print came back to Jason Salinger. Unfortunately, the enhancement was so significant that the print isn’t probative, so we need more from the scene. Nick, Warrick; can you two head out to the Salinger house? We’re particularly interested in finding Jason Salinger’s laptop.”

“Sure thing, boss,” said Warrick, throwing an M&M into his mouth.

Nick was aware of Warrick’s eyes on him as they stood in the locker room, putting on their tac’ vests and was almost prepared when Warrick spoke in the car.

“What’s going on with you, Nick?”

Nick fought down a groan. Of all the days for Warrick to start on this. “Nothing. Just surprised about Jason Salinger is all.”

Warrick shook his head. “If that’s the way you want to play it man, fine by me.”

Nick stared out of the window, watching as the houses changed in size and style until they were in the Salinger’s plush subdivision.

Warrick pulled neatly into the driveway and took his key out of the ignition. He rested both hands on the steering wheel.

“I’ve changed my mind. It isn’t fine with me. There’s something up with you, Nicky, and I’d like to know what it is.”

Nick snorted. “Been a long time since you called me that.”

Warrick looked at him, hurt in his green eyes. “Been a long time since we’ve hung out.”

Nick looked away, towards the smoking remains of the Salingers’ house. Dial the bitchiness down, Stokes. This guy is your friend.

“I’ve been going through some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Nick watched the LVPD officers securing the scene. They looked bored.

“I’m not the person you think I am.”

Warrick huffed an impatient breath. “What kind of person are you, then?”

Nick turned his head back towards Warrick and looked him in the eye. “Gay.”

Warrick’s face screwed up in confusion for a fraction of a second and then his eyes widened in surprise. “You’re gay?” It was only half a question. He nodded as if he had been satisfied on some point. “You’re gay.”

“Is it going to be a problem?” Nick was trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice, but he felt in that moment the weight of having Warrick not be there.

“A problem?”

“Yeah, you weren’t raised thinking this was ok.”

Warrick’s mouth fell open. “Nicky, I was raised by an old religious woman. She and I have different opinions on just about everything.” Warrick paused. “Come to think of it, how has Judge Stokes taken this?”

“We haven’t discussed it. This is kind of a – new thing.” The pain in Nick’s voice was impossible to miss, and Warrick nodded his head in understanding.

Nick cleared his throat. “We need to get at this scene.”

Warrick put his hand on Nick’s arm. “Just a minute. This is maybe too much when neither of us has even touched a beer but I want you to know that I love you, man and I respect you, and you being gay changes neither of those things.”

Nick turned his head away so Warrick wouldn’t see the relief in his eyes. “Thanks, man. I love you, too.”

Warrick grinned. “I mean, you still like sports right? You don’t have to start going to the ballet or anything?”

Nick smiled back, a lump in his throat. “I’ll have to check in the brochure they sent me with my membership card. Although, I’m still waiting to be told whether I’m on Team Liza or Team Judy so I may have to phone the customer hotline.”

He laughed at Warrick’s confusion. “Let’s get to work.”

---

“Have you seen Grissom?” Archie leaned against the doorframe of the DNA lab. “I have some phone calls to the Sands’ concierge that I want him to listen to and I’ve paged him four times.”

“No,” said Greg, shortly. “I haven’t seen him at all this shift.”

Archie paused in the doorway. “Everything ok?”

Greg looked up from the sample he was processing. “I didn’t take your advice about unavailable men. I should have.”

Archie’s face twisted in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Greg shrugged. “I acted like an asshole. I’m not the person you should feel sorry for.”

He leaned back over his sample, somehow small as though he had collapsed in on himself.

Archie hesitated, as if he was looking for some words that would be supportive, but Greg didn’t look up.

---

The Fire Marshal’s investigator looked Nick and Warrick up and down and shook his head. “You guys can’t go in there. The place is about ready to fall down, even with the props that are shoring up the roof.”

Warrick wiped the sweat off his brow. Even though dusk had fallen the breeze was hot and stifling, kicking up the embers that remained in the Salingers’ house.

“We have a problem in that we think it’s the houseowner who set the fire, but we have nothing probative. It’s likely any evidence is in this burning heap of rubble but without any motive or means, the case will be impossible to prosecute. We need evidence for that.”

“I don’t want to see the sonofabitch walk any more than you do, but in this breeze the rest of the place could go up in a heartbeat, or fall down on your heads.”

Warrick and Nick looked at each other. “We’re looking for a laptop. Seen one of them anywhere?”

The investigator looked thoughtful. “I thought I saw one in what used to be the office. You two stay here and I’ll go and get it.”

“Are you planning to wear gloves?”

The investigator looked at Nick and scratched his head. “No, son. I was also planning on licking it when I found it. Would that be a bad idea?”

Nick grinned. “I’m sure the Fire Marshal’s usual collection of evidence protocol will be just dandy.”

---

As Nick strode towards the AV lab with the fragile laptop inside an evidence bag, Greg was walking back towards DNA with an armful of files. He was examining the topmost one; walking no less quickly than usual for the fact that he had his head down. The lump in Nick’s stomach, which had been missing since his conversation with Warrick, returned. Greg almost looked like a different person after last night. The familiarity they had established over the course of so many months seemed to have dissolved like nitrates in water.

Greg turned into the DNA lab without looking up and Nick wasn’t sure whether to be sorry or glad that they hadn’t had to speak to each other.

Archie looked at Nick speculatively as he opened the evidence bag that contained the laptop, and Nick knew as surely as if Archie had told him that Greg had spoken to him about their relationship. Or lack of relationship. Whatever.

“This is from the Salinger fire. We’re hoping to get something off the hard drive.”

Archie crinkled his nose. “It’s a shame it’s a laptop and not a desktop. The hard drives are much more robust on desktops and survive fire and water in pretty good shape.”

Nick rubbed his forehead. “Just do the best you can, Archie. We haven’t established a motive or found anything probative at all that pins it on Salinger. If he did do it, he’ll walk without something more substantial.”

“I’ll page you as soon as I have anything.”

---

Archie, through sheer persistence, eventually extracted fragments of data from Jason Salinger’s hard drive. The data painted an ugly picture; including an affair with a young secretary from his office and an arson planned with brutal precision to ensure a payout from the insurance premium he had taken out on his wife.

He’d burned his wife and baby to death to avoid frittering away his lavish salary on alimony payments and child support, and to avoid the social opprobrium afforded men who abandon their young families.

One of the meanest reasons for committing a violent, premeditated crime, Nick reflected as he walked to his locker.

Greg was in the locker room, sitting on one of the benches with his knees together and his hands clasped in his lap like a small boy outside the principal’s office. He looked up when Nick came in, and his eyes were full of apology.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” said Nick.

Greg twisted his hands together. “Could we go somewhere? Breakfast, maybe?”

There was a part of Nick that was so furious with Greg that he wanted to turn him down and leave him sitting in the locker room like a jilted prom date. But the bigger, better part of him wanted to still the butterflies in his stomach and to wipe the look of unhappiness off Greg’s face.

And so then they were both sitting in their favourite diner; in their usual booth with their usual cups of coffee, but with an empty silence between them when it usually hummed with warmth.

“I was an asshole,” Greg said, without preamble. “I was a stupid, selfish asshole and I’m sorry.”

Nick looked at him. “I wish you hadn’t just left, but you weren’t a stupid, selfish asshole.”

Greg didn’t look away. “I fucked Wilkie.”

Nick unsuccessfully tried to hide the look of pain that flicked across his face. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Greg hunched his shoulders. “See? Asshole.”

Nick pressed his lips together. The silence lasted only a few seconds but it seemed to fill Greg’s head, until he could hear nothing else than the absence of sound.

“Something had to happen. We were living in a bubble.”

“A bubble?”

“Yeah, a really nice bubble that gave me some time to figure things out. But we both knew it couldn’t last forever. It wasn’t real.”

Greg’s lip was curled. “It felt pretty real to me.”

Nick sighed. “When you left last night I realised that I had no one to talk to about it. No one knew. This whole part of my life and you were the only person that knew.”

“So tell other people.”

“I did. I told Annie and I told Warrick.”

Greg looked up from his coffee cup. “You did what?”

Nick smiled. “Yeah. I freaked out at Annie; I wanted to talk about us but I didn’t mean to out myself. She was pretty cool about the whole thing. I should have done it months ago.”

Greg smiled; pride dispelling his self-loathing. “And Warrick?”

“He said he loved me and nothing would change that.”

“Warrick?” Greg’s voice was almost screechy with incredulity.

“You have too little faith in people, man. Including yourself.” Nick turned his cup round on the table. “Truth?”

Greg’s spine straightened. “Truth.”

Nick took a deep breath. “I do have feelings for you, but I don’t know what they mean. You’ve helped me to discover this huge part of myself and to feel comfortable with it and I need to know, before we embark on something, that what I feel is real. I owe you that.”

Greg’s expression was unreadable. “And you figured all of this out last night?”

“Over these last few months you’ve shown me what I’m meant to be, Greggo.” Nick swallowed. “I don’t mean just the gay thing, although that’s part of it. I mean that you’re just you with no artifice, no pretense. I’ve spent my life building walls and playing a part. I don’t want to play one with you.”

“God, Nicky.” Greg skimmed his fingers across one of Nick’s hands. “Talk about the pupil surpassing the master. Although I’m pretty sure that Qui-Gon Jinn wasn’t off fucking Darth Maul while Obi Wan came into his destiny.”

Greg’s smile slipped slightly. “I’ve been kicking myself a thousand different ways since I stormed out of your apartment like a teenager. Nothing about last night’s conversation happened the way it should have and, whatever else happens, please know that I’m sorry for putting you in that place.”

Nick looked at him, and the whole measure of the man was in his eyes. “You’re forgiven.”

“And I’m sorry about Wilkie.”

Nick half-smiled. “If you were trying to make me jealous, then it worked.”

Greg looked horrified. “No! I just wanted something comforting. I didn’t want to sit all night thinking about how stupid I’d been. How I might have lost something really important to me.”

“Sex is comforting?”

“Yes?” Greg’s face was quizzical. “I mean, ‘yes’. Yes, of course it is.”

Nick’s shook his head. “I have no claim on you, Greg. I get that you have needs.”

“Not needs. Wants. I know we’re not together, but we’re not nothing to each other. I’ll speak to you before I sleep with anyone else.”

Nick smiled, mischievously. “Me too. Now, do you want to come over and watch the game?”

Greg smiled. “I’d like that.

(Chapter four: Walking against the water)