Transatlanticism 7/10, We Looked like Giants
Transatlanticism
Summary: Maybe Greg should have seen this coming, should have seen early on how closed off Nick was, but somewhere along the line, his crush fell into a dark, despairing kind of love he had trouble fighting his way out of. "I need you so much closer."
Rated: T/PG-13
Spoilers up until S3/S4
NOTES: I've never seen S4, so it's technically a S4 AU because of that.
feedback, I can be down with. Just don't be an ass.
We Looked Like Giants
Goddamn the black night with all its foul temptation
I become what I always hated
when I was with you then
--
February 20, 2004
Greg doesn’t think he’s so much as smiled since his fight with Nick, if you can even call it that. Nick didn’t even really fight back or try to defend himself. It’s almost as though he knew that what Greg was saying was true. Not that it wasn’t; Greg wouldn’t say it unless he thought it was; not something like this, anyway.
Along with the lack of smiling, he seems to have a constant headache that nothing will fix. Sara asks about it after she sees him slouching over the table in the break room, rubbing at his head. She tells him that it might be in his head, maybe physical pain coming from depression, and Greg wishes she wouldn’t have come into the break room at all.
“Sara, please. Unless you have something that can get rid of the knife in my head, don’t talk. Your voice sounds like you’re talking through a megaphone right now, right next to my ear.”
Grissom raps on the glass with his knuckles, and through a cringe, Greg looks up. He doesn’t look particularly pleased as he waves his hand in a gesture for Greg to come out. Sara shoots him a sympathetic look as he exits the break room.
“You rang?”
“I gave you at least a day’s work of evidence in DNA, what are you doing in the break room chatting to Sara?”
Greg swallows and says, “Sir, with all due respect, I can only run so many samples at once. And Sara was chatting to me; I was trying to get her to let me suffer in silence.”
Grissom purses his lips and narrows his eyes behind his glasses. “Suffer?”
He nods eagerly before the dizziness settles in. He grabs his head and takes a few deep, calming breaths. “I have a headache. I can hardly concentrate on anything other than that.”
For a long, long moment, Grissom stares at him, scrutinizing. “I’ll call in a sub for tonight, you go home. I expect to see you on time tomorrow night for your shift.” A pause. “Nick’s almost off, you can get a ride home from him.”
Greg’s heart drops into his stomach. “Nick, sir?”
“Greg, what have I said about the ‘sir’ stuff? Yes, Nick. If you can’t concentrate on work, you certainly can’t concentrate on driving. I don’t want any of the CSI’s working your case tonight.” With that, he walks away. “Nick will meet you in the break room, I suggest you don’t keep him waiting; he just finished a double.”
Reluctantly, Greg turns around and starts walking the opposite way. In his head, the door to the locker room gets taller and taller, looming darkly above him as though what lies behind it is traditionally only seen in nightmares. He’s not really sure why he’s dreading seeing Nick so much; he’s seen him for work-related things over the past three days and they’ve both been very professional; at least Greg knows that if they break up, they’ll be able to keep it together.
Nick’s already in the locker room when Greg finally musters up the courage to open the door. He’s sitting on the bench, tying his shoes. He hardly looks up when Greg comes in, and when he starts speaking, he talks to the floor. “Greg, listen, I-“
“I don’t want to hear any of your excuses, Nick,” Greg says tiredly. “And if you have to make excuses, don’t say anything until I’m almost home so I don’t have to endure fifteen minutes of an awkward car ride.” He feels Nick’s eyes on him and turns to look, a confused expression on Nick’s face. “You got Grissom’s page, right?” Nick nods. “All right then.”
“Greg, I’m not trying to make an excuse,” Nick starts, standing up.
“Then what are you trying to do?” Greg says, unbuttoning his shirt angrily. “Rip me to pieces? You’re doing a fine job.”
Nick doesn’t say anything else while they’re still in the lab and instead keeps his thoughts to himself until he’s parked just outside Greg’s apartment building.
“Great, thanks. I’ll take a cab to work tomorrow…”
“No, I’ll pick you up. Don’t worry about it.” Nick catches his wrist before he opens the doors. “Greg…”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Nicky.”
Nick drops his wrist. “Are you breaking up with me?”
Greg pauses; it’d be the easiest way out. He’s put up with Nick’s lack of communication for months; he deserves to get out, especially since there seems to be no sign of change. It’d work well, and they both could get out of this with minimal damage to themselves. He looks out in front of them, at his neighbor walking a dog with her boyfriend, at a man on his cell phone as he struggles with a bag, a box, and trying to open his car door, at a couple teaching a child to walk on the sidewalk.
He wants that. Maybe not right now, but eventually. And in order to do that, he has to know who he’s dating more intimately than anyone, and right now, Greg’s pretty sure that’s the exact opposite. If Nick opens up, maybe even says that he’ll talk about whatever it is when he’s ready to, Greg can hold on. He just needs the hope. Nick’s not exactly giving him any.
He wants to say yes.
“No, I’m not breaking up with you.” The noise that Nick releases grabs his attention again, and he turns to look at Nick.
Nick closes his eyes and sighs, nodding. "I'll pick you up for work tomorrow," he says. His voice is quieter than normal, but Greg has this feeling that if he asks Nick what's up, he's not going to get a very decent answer.
"Tomorrow." Greg gets out of the car and makes his way into the building. A lingering feeling in the back of his mind keeps Greg from going right to sleep, but when he’s moments away, he swears that the feeling is right on the tip of his tongue.
--
February 25, 2004
“Greg! Five samples for you.”
“Greg, prioritize that hair strand I gave you earlier.”
“I brought that in just after shift started, why isn’t it done?”
Really, Greg’s thinking if he has another person come into his lab and demand something be finished, he’s going to go crazy. It’s not even two AM and he’s already overcome with too much work. The headache he finally managed to kick with a heavy dose of alcohol on his day off is creeping back.
When he finally manages to sneak away for his break, the break room is empty. Ideally, he’d like somebody else in there, willing to talk about something other than work and why Greg’s single-handedly drank three pots of coffee since shift started. Looks like he’ll spend his break in solitude.
After getting his coffee, Greg sits down at one of the tables and tries his best to not think about Nick and how he hasn’t seen him all night, but everything comes back to him. Catherine’s on a case with him, so she’s out. Warrick’s his best friend, so he is, too. Sara’s been particularly nasty to him for the last few days, though for the life of him, Greg can’t figure out why. Even Bobby’s out, because his accent reminds him of Nick.
For a while, Greg thinks about Judy and whether or not her hair is that curly naturally. Warrick comes in just as he’s reminded that Nick once asked her out, long before Greg and Nick started spending time outside of work on a regular basis.
“You look concentrated,” Warrick comments as he throws his jacket over a chair and heads towards the coffee. “What’s on your mind?”
“Judy,” Greg replies thoughtfully, staring into his coffee. He sees his reflection in the liquid, and suddenly doesn’t want it anymore - he looks terrible. How his coworkers haven’t noticed is beyond him.
Still, Greg tries to make up in his lack of looking good by saying, “You think if I asked her out, she’d say yes?”
Warrick chuckles and shakes his head. “I doubt it, Greggo.” He sits down, but doesn’t offer anything else to the conversation and starts flipping through one of the magazines at the table.
A few minutes pass, in which Warrick and Greg sit in silence, drinking coffee. Warrick continues reading, Greg continues staring into his coffee. In a very strange way, Greg’s happier with this situation than any other.
Nick passes by a while later, but doesn’t so much as make eye contact with him. Greg gives it up. He can’t keep moping around, waiting for Nick to figure out whatever his deal is.
And God, he’s sick of how… dependant he’s becoming. It’s like he lives for the moments that Nick seems to have it all together, when he’s cool and calm and collected, and isn’t that how abuse victims live? Staying in the relationship for that one moment of happiness?
Warrick glances up at him as though he’s just noticed Greg’s presence. “You all right, Greg?”
Greg nods wearily and stands up. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He dumps his coffee down the drain, catching the surprised look on Warrick’s face as he leaves the break room. He passes Nick in the hallway, talking away on his phone, and he manages to smile, but something in Greg thinks it’s not enough after so long, and he can’t even offer one back.
--
March 2, 2004
He hates how pointless life has become. He hasn’t exactly said anything to Nick outside of work, and even then, saying they talk at work is a stretch: Nick gives him evidence, Greg processes it, Nick returns for results, Greg hands them over, and Nick thanks him. That hardly constitutes as coworkers.
But on second thought… it’s not like they have no contact. After shift, when Nick’s not working a double or something, he makes it a priority to smile at or kiss Greg before he leaves, which is better than nothing. Right?
Whatever. The idea that it’s better than the alternative is, well, better than the alternative.
He notices that people watch him a lot more often. Like, a lot. He can be plugging away at work, trying to get as much done as he can, and when he looks up, three people are just staring at him. Like they have nothing better to do. It’s totally unnerving.
The first few days, sure, Greg puts up with it. But after about five days of unashamed staring, he starts putting up paper on the glass walls to keep the prying eyes away. And it works… Until Grissom finds out.
“This is a hazard, you know,” he says when he comes in to drop off evidence personally.
“How so?” Greg says, not even bothering to try to sound happy or optimistic. Life sucks, and he doesn’t need to pretend it doesn’t.
“If you poison yourself, nobody would be able to help until they came to drop off evidence. We’d never know until we needed your expertise, and by then it may be too late.”
Internally, Greg thinks, Would that be so bad?, but he knows Grissom expects something more than that, so he doesn’t say it. Instead, he says, “I’ll take it down.” To drive his point home, he walks over to the edge of one and begins to pull, only stopping to ask, “Can you not… If you notice people… y’know… staring… Mind telling them off?”
Grissom studies him for a moment, reading him, and then nods. “Of course.” He abandons the evidence on the table and turns to leave. “Greg…”
“Yes, si---Grissom?”
“If it’d help, you can take tomorrow night off.”
Greg has no idea how Grissom can so easily read him. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s better for me to work.”
His boss nods again. Greg almost feels relieved that he doesn’t say anything else and just goes, but there’s a part of him that thinks that if Grissom doesn’t know what to say, how the hell is Greg?
Summary: Maybe Greg should have seen this coming, should have seen early on how closed off Nick was, but somewhere along the line, his crush fell into a dark, despairing kind of love he had trouble fighting his way out of. "I need you so much closer."
Rated: T/PG-13
Spoilers up until S3/S4
NOTES: I've never seen S4, so it's technically a S4 AU because of that.
feedback, I can be down with. Just don't be an ass.
We Looked Like Giants
Goddamn the black night with all its foul temptation
I become what I always hated
when I was with you then
--
February 20, 2004
Greg doesn’t think he’s so much as smiled since his fight with Nick, if you can even call it that. Nick didn’t even really fight back or try to defend himself. It’s almost as though he knew that what Greg was saying was true. Not that it wasn’t; Greg wouldn’t say it unless he thought it was; not something like this, anyway.
Along with the lack of smiling, he seems to have a constant headache that nothing will fix. Sara asks about it after she sees him slouching over the table in the break room, rubbing at his head. She tells him that it might be in his head, maybe physical pain coming from depression, and Greg wishes she wouldn’t have come into the break room at all.
“Sara, please. Unless you have something that can get rid of the knife in my head, don’t talk. Your voice sounds like you’re talking through a megaphone right now, right next to my ear.”
Grissom raps on the glass with his knuckles, and through a cringe, Greg looks up. He doesn’t look particularly pleased as he waves his hand in a gesture for Greg to come out. Sara shoots him a sympathetic look as he exits the break room.
“You rang?”
“I gave you at least a day’s work of evidence in DNA, what are you doing in the break room chatting to Sara?”
Greg swallows and says, “Sir, with all due respect, I can only run so many samples at once. And Sara was chatting to me; I was trying to get her to let me suffer in silence.”
Grissom purses his lips and narrows his eyes behind his glasses. “Suffer?”
He nods eagerly before the dizziness settles in. He grabs his head and takes a few deep, calming breaths. “I have a headache. I can hardly concentrate on anything other than that.”
For a long, long moment, Grissom stares at him, scrutinizing. “I’ll call in a sub for tonight, you go home. I expect to see you on time tomorrow night for your shift.” A pause. “Nick’s almost off, you can get a ride home from him.”
Greg’s heart drops into his stomach. “Nick, sir?”
“Greg, what have I said about the ‘sir’ stuff? Yes, Nick. If you can’t concentrate on work, you certainly can’t concentrate on driving. I don’t want any of the CSI’s working your case tonight.” With that, he walks away. “Nick will meet you in the break room, I suggest you don’t keep him waiting; he just finished a double.”
Reluctantly, Greg turns around and starts walking the opposite way. In his head, the door to the locker room gets taller and taller, looming darkly above him as though what lies behind it is traditionally only seen in nightmares. He’s not really sure why he’s dreading seeing Nick so much; he’s seen him for work-related things over the past three days and they’ve both been very professional; at least Greg knows that if they break up, they’ll be able to keep it together.
Nick’s already in the locker room when Greg finally musters up the courage to open the door. He’s sitting on the bench, tying his shoes. He hardly looks up when Greg comes in, and when he starts speaking, he talks to the floor. “Greg, listen, I-“
“I don’t want to hear any of your excuses, Nick,” Greg says tiredly. “And if you have to make excuses, don’t say anything until I’m almost home so I don’t have to endure fifteen minutes of an awkward car ride.” He feels Nick’s eyes on him and turns to look, a confused expression on Nick’s face. “You got Grissom’s page, right?” Nick nods. “All right then.”
“Greg, I’m not trying to make an excuse,” Nick starts, standing up.
“Then what are you trying to do?” Greg says, unbuttoning his shirt angrily. “Rip me to pieces? You’re doing a fine job.”
Nick doesn’t say anything else while they’re still in the lab and instead keeps his thoughts to himself until he’s parked just outside Greg’s apartment building.
“Great, thanks. I’ll take a cab to work tomorrow…”
“No, I’ll pick you up. Don’t worry about it.” Nick catches his wrist before he opens the doors. “Greg…”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Nicky.”
Nick drops his wrist. “Are you breaking up with me?”
Greg pauses; it’d be the easiest way out. He’s put up with Nick’s lack of communication for months; he deserves to get out, especially since there seems to be no sign of change. It’d work well, and they both could get out of this with minimal damage to themselves. He looks out in front of them, at his neighbor walking a dog with her boyfriend, at a man on his cell phone as he struggles with a bag, a box, and trying to open his car door, at a couple teaching a child to walk on the sidewalk.
He wants that. Maybe not right now, but eventually. And in order to do that, he has to know who he’s dating more intimately than anyone, and right now, Greg’s pretty sure that’s the exact opposite. If Nick opens up, maybe even says that he’ll talk about whatever it is when he’s ready to, Greg can hold on. He just needs the hope. Nick’s not exactly giving him any.
He wants to say yes.
“No, I’m not breaking up with you.” The noise that Nick releases grabs his attention again, and he turns to look at Nick.
Nick closes his eyes and sighs, nodding. "I'll pick you up for work tomorrow," he says. His voice is quieter than normal, but Greg has this feeling that if he asks Nick what's up, he's not going to get a very decent answer.
"Tomorrow." Greg gets out of the car and makes his way into the building. A lingering feeling in the back of his mind keeps Greg from going right to sleep, but when he’s moments away, he swears that the feeling is right on the tip of his tongue.
--
February 25, 2004
“Greg! Five samples for you.”
“Greg, prioritize that hair strand I gave you earlier.”
“I brought that in just after shift started, why isn’t it done?”
Really, Greg’s thinking if he has another person come into his lab and demand something be finished, he’s going to go crazy. It’s not even two AM and he’s already overcome with too much work. The headache he finally managed to kick with a heavy dose of alcohol on his day off is creeping back.
When he finally manages to sneak away for his break, the break room is empty. Ideally, he’d like somebody else in there, willing to talk about something other than work and why Greg’s single-handedly drank three pots of coffee since shift started. Looks like he’ll spend his break in solitude.
After getting his coffee, Greg sits down at one of the tables and tries his best to not think about Nick and how he hasn’t seen him all night, but everything comes back to him. Catherine’s on a case with him, so she’s out. Warrick’s his best friend, so he is, too. Sara’s been particularly nasty to him for the last few days, though for the life of him, Greg can’t figure out why. Even Bobby’s out, because his accent reminds him of Nick.
For a while, Greg thinks about Judy and whether or not her hair is that curly naturally. Warrick comes in just as he’s reminded that Nick once asked her out, long before Greg and Nick started spending time outside of work on a regular basis.
“You look concentrated,” Warrick comments as he throws his jacket over a chair and heads towards the coffee. “What’s on your mind?”
“Judy,” Greg replies thoughtfully, staring into his coffee. He sees his reflection in the liquid, and suddenly doesn’t want it anymore - he looks terrible. How his coworkers haven’t noticed is beyond him.
Still, Greg tries to make up in his lack of looking good by saying, “You think if I asked her out, she’d say yes?”
Warrick chuckles and shakes his head. “I doubt it, Greggo.” He sits down, but doesn’t offer anything else to the conversation and starts flipping through one of the magazines at the table.
A few minutes pass, in which Warrick and Greg sit in silence, drinking coffee. Warrick continues reading, Greg continues staring into his coffee. In a very strange way, Greg’s happier with this situation than any other.
Nick passes by a while later, but doesn’t so much as make eye contact with him. Greg gives it up. He can’t keep moping around, waiting for Nick to figure out whatever his deal is.
And God, he’s sick of how… dependant he’s becoming. It’s like he lives for the moments that Nick seems to have it all together, when he’s cool and calm and collected, and isn’t that how abuse victims live? Staying in the relationship for that one moment of happiness?
Warrick glances up at him as though he’s just noticed Greg’s presence. “You all right, Greg?”
Greg nods wearily and stands up. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He dumps his coffee down the drain, catching the surprised look on Warrick’s face as he leaves the break room. He passes Nick in the hallway, talking away on his phone, and he manages to smile, but something in Greg thinks it’s not enough after so long, and he can’t even offer one back.
--
March 2, 2004
He hates how pointless life has become. He hasn’t exactly said anything to Nick outside of work, and even then, saying they talk at work is a stretch: Nick gives him evidence, Greg processes it, Nick returns for results, Greg hands them over, and Nick thanks him. That hardly constitutes as coworkers.
But on second thought… it’s not like they have no contact. After shift, when Nick’s not working a double or something, he makes it a priority to smile at or kiss Greg before he leaves, which is better than nothing. Right?
Whatever. The idea that it’s better than the alternative is, well, better than the alternative.
He notices that people watch him a lot more often. Like, a lot. He can be plugging away at work, trying to get as much done as he can, and when he looks up, three people are just staring at him. Like they have nothing better to do. It’s totally unnerving.
The first few days, sure, Greg puts up with it. But after about five days of unashamed staring, he starts putting up paper on the glass walls to keep the prying eyes away. And it works… Until Grissom finds out.
“This is a hazard, you know,” he says when he comes in to drop off evidence personally.
“How so?” Greg says, not even bothering to try to sound happy or optimistic. Life sucks, and he doesn’t need to pretend it doesn’t.
“If you poison yourself, nobody would be able to help until they came to drop off evidence. We’d never know until we needed your expertise, and by then it may be too late.”
Internally, Greg thinks, Would that be so bad?, but he knows Grissom expects something more than that, so he doesn’t say it. Instead, he says, “I’ll take it down.” To drive his point home, he walks over to the edge of one and begins to pull, only stopping to ask, “Can you not… If you notice people… y’know… staring… Mind telling them off?”
Grissom studies him for a moment, reading him, and then nods. “Of course.” He abandons the evidence on the table and turns to leave. “Greg…”
“Yes, si---Grissom?”
“If it’d help, you can take tomorrow night off.”
Greg has no idea how Grissom can so easily read him. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s better for me to work.”
His boss nods again. Greg almost feels relieved that he doesn’t say anything else and just goes, but there’s a part of him that thinks that if Grissom doesn’t know what to say, how the hell is Greg?