Fic: At the Hour Of Death 2/15 (CSI, Nick/Greg, NC17)
This is my first case-centric fic so I'm a little nervous about the execution. I've got an outline and everything, but with this kind of story I'm never sure if I'm giving too much information or not enough. Since this is a rough draft and all you are free to tell me if I confuse and/or bore you to tears during the course of the story. It's definitely a slash fic in that the relationship is my main focus, but the case is quite prominent as a backdrop to the relationship and I worry that it's going to be lame or come off as me sounding like I don't know what I'm talking about. Which, let's face it, I don't, at least forensically speaking.
But I'm expanding my writing horizons so...yeah. I'll just shut up now and get to the fic.
At the Hour of Death, 2/15. Nick/Greg. Still PG13 for the moment.
A few hours later and Nick almost wished he still hadn't seen Aaron's face. Because he'd seen Aaron now, blue lips and pale skin making the images in Nick's head even more disturbing. It didn't help that he'd spent the past few hours trying not to picture Greg and the dead guy doing all kinds of things he didn't want to know about, much less imagine. He wasn't even sure why he kept picturing it, because it didn't matter to him who Greg slept with.
It was none of his business, and even if he'd wondered once or twice what it would be like, that didn't mean he'd fantasized about it or anything. Only now he couldn't shut the images off, and it had driven him to the DMV database to find Aaron Landry's driver's license just so he could put a living face on the images haunting him.
"What are you doing?"
Nick flinched at the sound of Greg's voice, but he didn't try to close the window before Greg got a look at the computer screen. He knew from experience that would look even more suspicious than looking up Aaron's license, and Greg definitely wasn't stupid. "Looking up the vic's last known address. You get those samples processed already?"
"Working on it. I know where he lived. Unless he moved since the last time I was there."
Nick congratulated himself on the fact that he managed not to flinch again. He was pretty sure he didn't react at all - at least not visibly, but the lead weight in the pit of his stomach was a different story. This whole case was bad enough, especially now that they were pretty sure it was some kind of sex game gone wrong. Doc had confirmed the asphyxiation theory, anyway, and Greg was processing the traces of semen as they spoke. All the evidence so far pointed to the fact that this Aaron guy got off on being strangled, and the fact that Greg…with somebody like that…Nick cleared his throat and stood up before that thought could go any further, reaching for the printout of Landry's license.
"Well I'm on my way there. Do me a favor - call Brass and have him send a uniform out to meet me."
He was gone before Greg could argue with him, not even stopping to grab a jacket before he headed out of the lab. The chill of the desert air felt good against his skin, cooling the heat in his cheeks as he crossed the parking lot and climbed into his truck. He started the engine and rolled the window down, turning on the cab light long enough to read the address on the license. And at least he had a mental picture of Aaron when he was still alive, but it didn't make him feel better the way he'd expected it to.
If anything it made him a little more uncomfortable, because now he was picturing a living, breathing person, and the images in his mind's eye were way too real. Still, it was better than picturing a corpse - that was what he told himself as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed across town, to a neighborhood he tried to stay out of if he could help it. By the time he pulled up in front of the late Aaron Landry's apartment building there was a squad car waiting for him, along with another unmarked car that meant Brass had showed up too.
"Slow night at the station?" Nick asked as he walked up the sidewalk toward Brass and another man.
"Something like that," Brass answered. "Nick Stokes, Dennis Watkins, building manager. Nick's with the crime lab. We're going to need you to let us into Landry's apartment."
They followed the building manager into a dark hallway, and Nick's nose wrinkled at the stale smell of rotting garbage and something else he was pretty sure came from a human and definitely didn't want to identify. He held his breath while the building manager found the right key and let them into Aaron's apartment, finally letting out a breath only to catch it again when they walked into a poorly lit living room. The smell wasn't much better inside the apartment, and Nick had no idea how anybody could get used to it.
"Open some windows," Brass told the uniform he'd brought with him. "But don't touch anything."
Nick paused just inside the door and opened his kit, pulling on a pair of gloves and digging out a flashlight. He glanced around the living room before he headed down a short hallway to the bedroom. It was lit a little better than the living room, and if Nick didn't know how the guy died he would have thought it looked like an average bachelor pad. It wasn't the cleanest place he'd ever seen, but most of the mess consisted of clothes strewn around and magazines littering the floor by the bed.
He had a feeling he already knew what kind of magazines they were, and the last thing he wanted to do was look at them. There were enough images in his head already without visual aids, but he had a job to do and he couldn't just ignore evidence. That didn't stop his stomach from turning when he picked up the first magazine, though, and he really thought he'd seen everything when they had that case at the S&M club, but that was nothing compared to this stuff.
"Jesus, the things some people do," Brass said, startling Nick into dropping the magazine. It landed on the bed and Nick flipped it shut as quickly as he could, trying not to see the image of too much leather and something he couldn't identify and was pretty sure he didn't want to.
"Tell me about it," he answered, glancing back at Brass long enough to catch the other man's grin.
"I'll pass, if it's all the same to you."
Nick smiled in spite of himself, reaching into his kit for a pair of tweezers. "So what are you really doing here?" he asked as he pulled the comforter back and turned his flashlight on the sheets, crouching by the bed to lift a hair off the center of the mattress.
"This is a pretty bad neighborhood," Brass answered, shrugging when Nick glanced over his shoulder. "You're working a homicide alone, figured it wouldn't hurt to come out and make sure nothing goes wrong."
"I'm not working the case alone. Greg's back at the lab waiting on DNA results."
"Great, so you've got the DNA tech tagging along. Don't get me wrong, Greg's a great guy," Brass added when Nick frowned at him. "But he's still pulling double duty in the lab. Seems like it wouldn't hurt to have another pair of eyes if you're doing the leg work by yourself."
Nick swallowed the urge to defend Greg - he wasn't even sure what he was defending, really, because Brass was right. Greg was pulling double duty, but that was part of the deal. He was a good DNA tech, but he wanted to get out in the field, so this was the compromise. It wasn't like he ever complained about it, so Nick never really gave it much thought. It was his case too, though, and suddenly Nick felt a little guilty about leaving him behind.
He tried to picture Greg in this place - Greg with the guy in the DMV photo - but now that he was standing in Aaron Landry's bedroom he couldn't picture it. Because sure, Greg could be obnoxious and he never knew when to shut up, but he had more class than this place. It just didn't seem right that he'd be hanging out on this side of town, doing even the tamest of the stuff in those magazines littered all over the bedroom. He talked a good game about some of the stuff he'd tried, sure, but none of it was violent.
'Rough' was the word Greg had used, but that didn't even begin to cover the stuff he'd seen in just a few seconds of flipping through that magazine. Which meant Greg probably didn't know half the stuff this Landry guy was into, and now that he was dead it was their job to find out. He kept telling himself he'd lived in Vegas long enough to be ready for anything, but sometimes he saw stuff that made him wish he'd chosen another line of work altogether.
"So are we looking at a homicide here or what?" Brass asked, and Nick glanced up from the mattress to watch him flipping through the stuff on top of Aaron's dresser.
"Not sure yet," Nick answered, straightening up and dropping a few envelopes full of evidence into his kit. "He was definitely strangled with some kind of rope, but we don't know if it was intentional. There were no signs of a struggle at the crime scene, but there were some weird marks…"
He trailed off at the sound of voices in the other room, and a second later he found himself face to face with Greg. "Hey. What are you doing here?"
"DNA came back, thought you'd want to see the results. And I thought you could use a hand here." Greg glanced at Brass, nodding before he turned back to Nick and handed over a printout of DNA results.
"Two donors."
"One's the vic, obviously," Greg answered. "The other's from an unknown. Nothing on CODIS."
"So we've got an unknown witness," Nick said, glancing at Brass as he handed the paper back to Greg. "Guess we'll let you know if it's a homicide when we find our donor."
Brass nodded, stealing a quick glance at Greg before he looked at Nick again. Something about the way Brass looked at Greg made Nick bristle; he couldn't explain it, because Greg was pretty inexperienced in the field and it was natural for someone in Brass' position to wonder if he was up for watching his partner's back. But it bothered him anyway, and it was all he could do not to frown when Brass asked the question he knew was coming. "So you guys okay here? I can leave Hansen on door duty."
"Thanks, we got it," Nick answered, working hard to keep his voice as neutral as possible.
"You're the boss."
He could tell by the way Brass was looking at him that he wanted to say something else, but a second later he changed his mind and headed for the door. Nick waited until he heard the apartment door close before he looked at Greg again - now that he'd seen Greg standing in this room he knew he was going to spend the whole night picturing it, and it made him wish Greg had stayed in the lab where he belonged. "Still look the way you remember it?"
At the sound of his voice Greg looked up, eyes dark with an emotion Nick couldn't name. He almost regretted asking the question, but Greg was the one who'd brought up his relationship with Aaron in the first place, and he couldn't blame Nick for being curious.
For a second Greg didn't answer - instead he reached into his own kit and pulled out a pair of gloves, pulling them on before he looked up at Nick again. When he finally spoke his voice was flat, all business and so unlike Greg that Nick found himself taking an involuntary step backwards. "Where do you want me?"
And there were a hundred ways Nick could answer that question, but he swallowed every one of them and cleared his throat before he turned back to the bed. "Check the bathroom," he answered, head down to hide the hot flush creeping up his neck. "And don't forget the trash."
But I'm expanding my writing horizons so...yeah. I'll just shut up now and get to the fic.
At the Hour of Death, 2/15. Nick/Greg. Still PG13 for the moment.
A few hours later and Nick almost wished he still hadn't seen Aaron's face. Because he'd seen Aaron now, blue lips and pale skin making the images in Nick's head even more disturbing. It didn't help that he'd spent the past few hours trying not to picture Greg and the dead guy doing all kinds of things he didn't want to know about, much less imagine. He wasn't even sure why he kept picturing it, because it didn't matter to him who Greg slept with.
It was none of his business, and even if he'd wondered once or twice what it would be like, that didn't mean he'd fantasized about it or anything. Only now he couldn't shut the images off, and it had driven him to the DMV database to find Aaron Landry's driver's license just so he could put a living face on the images haunting him.
"What are you doing?"
Nick flinched at the sound of Greg's voice, but he didn't try to close the window before Greg got a look at the computer screen. He knew from experience that would look even more suspicious than looking up Aaron's license, and Greg definitely wasn't stupid. "Looking up the vic's last known address. You get those samples processed already?"
"Working on it. I know where he lived. Unless he moved since the last time I was there."
Nick congratulated himself on the fact that he managed not to flinch again. He was pretty sure he didn't react at all - at least not visibly, but the lead weight in the pit of his stomach was a different story. This whole case was bad enough, especially now that they were pretty sure it was some kind of sex game gone wrong. Doc had confirmed the asphyxiation theory, anyway, and Greg was processing the traces of semen as they spoke. All the evidence so far pointed to the fact that this Aaron guy got off on being strangled, and the fact that Greg…with somebody like that…Nick cleared his throat and stood up before that thought could go any further, reaching for the printout of Landry's license.
"Well I'm on my way there. Do me a favor - call Brass and have him send a uniform out to meet me."
He was gone before Greg could argue with him, not even stopping to grab a jacket before he headed out of the lab. The chill of the desert air felt good against his skin, cooling the heat in his cheeks as he crossed the parking lot and climbed into his truck. He started the engine and rolled the window down, turning on the cab light long enough to read the address on the license. And at least he had a mental picture of Aaron when he was still alive, but it didn't make him feel better the way he'd expected it to.
If anything it made him a little more uncomfortable, because now he was picturing a living, breathing person, and the images in his mind's eye were way too real. Still, it was better than picturing a corpse - that was what he told himself as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed across town, to a neighborhood he tried to stay out of if he could help it. By the time he pulled up in front of the late Aaron Landry's apartment building there was a squad car waiting for him, along with another unmarked car that meant Brass had showed up too.
"Slow night at the station?" Nick asked as he walked up the sidewalk toward Brass and another man.
"Something like that," Brass answered. "Nick Stokes, Dennis Watkins, building manager. Nick's with the crime lab. We're going to need you to let us into Landry's apartment."
They followed the building manager into a dark hallway, and Nick's nose wrinkled at the stale smell of rotting garbage and something else he was pretty sure came from a human and definitely didn't want to identify. He held his breath while the building manager found the right key and let them into Aaron's apartment, finally letting out a breath only to catch it again when they walked into a poorly lit living room. The smell wasn't much better inside the apartment, and Nick had no idea how anybody could get used to it.
"Open some windows," Brass told the uniform he'd brought with him. "But don't touch anything."
Nick paused just inside the door and opened his kit, pulling on a pair of gloves and digging out a flashlight. He glanced around the living room before he headed down a short hallway to the bedroom. It was lit a little better than the living room, and if Nick didn't know how the guy died he would have thought it looked like an average bachelor pad. It wasn't the cleanest place he'd ever seen, but most of the mess consisted of clothes strewn around and magazines littering the floor by the bed.
He had a feeling he already knew what kind of magazines they were, and the last thing he wanted to do was look at them. There were enough images in his head already without visual aids, but he had a job to do and he couldn't just ignore evidence. That didn't stop his stomach from turning when he picked up the first magazine, though, and he really thought he'd seen everything when they had that case at the S&M club, but that was nothing compared to this stuff.
"Jesus, the things some people do," Brass said, startling Nick into dropping the magazine. It landed on the bed and Nick flipped it shut as quickly as he could, trying not to see the image of too much leather and something he couldn't identify and was pretty sure he didn't want to.
"Tell me about it," he answered, glancing back at Brass long enough to catch the other man's grin.
"I'll pass, if it's all the same to you."
Nick smiled in spite of himself, reaching into his kit for a pair of tweezers. "So what are you really doing here?" he asked as he pulled the comforter back and turned his flashlight on the sheets, crouching by the bed to lift a hair off the center of the mattress.
"This is a pretty bad neighborhood," Brass answered, shrugging when Nick glanced over his shoulder. "You're working a homicide alone, figured it wouldn't hurt to come out and make sure nothing goes wrong."
"I'm not working the case alone. Greg's back at the lab waiting on DNA results."
"Great, so you've got the DNA tech tagging along. Don't get me wrong, Greg's a great guy," Brass added when Nick frowned at him. "But he's still pulling double duty in the lab. Seems like it wouldn't hurt to have another pair of eyes if you're doing the leg work by yourself."
Nick swallowed the urge to defend Greg - he wasn't even sure what he was defending, really, because Brass was right. Greg was pulling double duty, but that was part of the deal. He was a good DNA tech, but he wanted to get out in the field, so this was the compromise. It wasn't like he ever complained about it, so Nick never really gave it much thought. It was his case too, though, and suddenly Nick felt a little guilty about leaving him behind.
He tried to picture Greg in this place - Greg with the guy in the DMV photo - but now that he was standing in Aaron Landry's bedroom he couldn't picture it. Because sure, Greg could be obnoxious and he never knew when to shut up, but he had more class than this place. It just didn't seem right that he'd be hanging out on this side of town, doing even the tamest of the stuff in those magazines littered all over the bedroom. He talked a good game about some of the stuff he'd tried, sure, but none of it was violent.
'Rough' was the word Greg had used, but that didn't even begin to cover the stuff he'd seen in just a few seconds of flipping through that magazine. Which meant Greg probably didn't know half the stuff this Landry guy was into, and now that he was dead it was their job to find out. He kept telling himself he'd lived in Vegas long enough to be ready for anything, but sometimes he saw stuff that made him wish he'd chosen another line of work altogether.
"So are we looking at a homicide here or what?" Brass asked, and Nick glanced up from the mattress to watch him flipping through the stuff on top of Aaron's dresser.
"Not sure yet," Nick answered, straightening up and dropping a few envelopes full of evidence into his kit. "He was definitely strangled with some kind of rope, but we don't know if it was intentional. There were no signs of a struggle at the crime scene, but there were some weird marks…"
He trailed off at the sound of voices in the other room, and a second later he found himself face to face with Greg. "Hey. What are you doing here?"
"DNA came back, thought you'd want to see the results. And I thought you could use a hand here." Greg glanced at Brass, nodding before he turned back to Nick and handed over a printout of DNA results.
"Two donors."
"One's the vic, obviously," Greg answered. "The other's from an unknown. Nothing on CODIS."
"So we've got an unknown witness," Nick said, glancing at Brass as he handed the paper back to Greg. "Guess we'll let you know if it's a homicide when we find our donor."
Brass nodded, stealing a quick glance at Greg before he looked at Nick again. Something about the way Brass looked at Greg made Nick bristle; he couldn't explain it, because Greg was pretty inexperienced in the field and it was natural for someone in Brass' position to wonder if he was up for watching his partner's back. But it bothered him anyway, and it was all he could do not to frown when Brass asked the question he knew was coming. "So you guys okay here? I can leave Hansen on door duty."
"Thanks, we got it," Nick answered, working hard to keep his voice as neutral as possible.
"You're the boss."
He could tell by the way Brass was looking at him that he wanted to say something else, but a second later he changed his mind and headed for the door. Nick waited until he heard the apartment door close before he looked at Greg again - now that he'd seen Greg standing in this room he knew he was going to spend the whole night picturing it, and it made him wish Greg had stayed in the lab where he belonged. "Still look the way you remember it?"
At the sound of his voice Greg looked up, eyes dark with an emotion Nick couldn't name. He almost regretted asking the question, but Greg was the one who'd brought up his relationship with Aaron in the first place, and he couldn't blame Nick for being curious.
For a second Greg didn't answer - instead he reached into his own kit and pulled out a pair of gloves, pulling them on before he looked up at Nick again. When he finally spoke his voice was flat, all business and so unlike Greg that Nick found himself taking an involuntary step backwards. "Where do you want me?"
And there were a hundred ways Nick could answer that question, but he swallowed every one of them and cleared his throat before he turned back to the bed. "Check the bathroom," he answered, head down to hide the hot flush creeping up his neck. "And don't forget the trash."