Of Blood Part 2
Again... it is a WIP (Work in Progress) but the first three parts are more or less complete...
Enjoy... Comment if you'd like to...
This is Slash Rated NC-17
Part 2
It was as Gil Grissom, supervisor of the night shift at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, had hoped it would be for a Wednesday night, quiet. Two murders, a drunken driver and a robbery. His people had processed quickly and efficiently, had given him their preliminary reports in the last half hour of their shifts. All done. He only needed to give report to Ecklie then sign off and his shift was done.
"You got a minute?"
Grissom automatically nodded, smiling as Warrick Brown came into his office and closed the door. The dark man smiled back, his demeanor changing as privacy changed the dynamics between them. "I needed to see you before I left today," Gil began. "I'm going to have a stomach flu tomorrow night and Catherine needs to attend something with Lindsay during the day and I didn't want to burden her with this so I need you to cover for me."
Warrick stared at him with an inquiring expression. "What's up?" he asked.
"Nothing's wrong." Gil gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. "But you might want to sit down."
Warrick casually obeyed, his expression still expectant. "Okay... what?"
Grissom felt his facial muscles move into smirk but ruthlessly stopped that gesture. A more perverse part of his personality had been waiting for this moment, making Michael swear to silence if Warrick should talk to him. He folded his hands on his lap, eyeing his friend closely. "Hard to miss I was in Need last week," he began then shrugged. "I went to the club, that quiet one run by Ashley?"
"Yeah." Confusion furrowed Warrick's brow. "And you look like you got more than you needed," he observed with a grin. "Was there a problem?"
Gil dropped his facade and smiled smartly. "Brass was there."
Over the years he had seen every kind of emotion cross Warrick's face but the one he saw now reminded him that he really should have set up a camera. Hazel eyes widened. His friend's mouth hung open as pure shock broadcasted from him. "He was there?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes," he answered simply, taking joy in making his friend work it through.
"And you--"
"Yes."
"You and Brass? You and he--" He rubbed his hands over his face then peered at Gil. "You told him?"
"Yes." Grissom ruthlessly kept himself from laughing. "Rick, it's all right."
"It's all right?" Warrick stood and paced the length of the office. "Man, I can't believe it!"
"You started it," Grissom accused mildly. "You said he needed a family." He straightened and held out his hands in an encompassing gesture. "I'm giving him one."
"I--" Warrick studied Gil for several seconds. Amusement slowly crept into his own eyes as he crossed his arms in front of him and leaned against the wall. "So?"
Grissom raised his eyebrows. "So?"
"Brass," Warrick threw out teasingly then snorted and shook his head. "Never thought-- He was okay with... this?"
Gil nodded happily briefly remembering that night. That morning. Then that afternoon where Brass, to Grissom's delight, actually initiated their lovemaking, finally trusting what Gil was telling him. "That cynical, sometimes irritating exterior holds a lot of pain." He shivered a bit as he remembered the wisps of darkness he found within his friend. "I tried to help."
Warrick frowned. "While you were in Need? Michael won't be happy."
"Michael wasn't happy... but it's not his place to do more than be unhappy." Grissom stood. "I couldn't do anything else, Rick. I could feel the pain but I never knew it ran so deep." He sighed. "I didn't even do as much as I wanted but enough I think." His lips turned up in a sly smile. "Maybe Jim just needs to meet the right man."
Warrick's eyes narrowed. "Who--" His expression brightened as he caught on. "Michael? You're going to connect him to Michael?"
Grissom smirked. "Why not? You know I've been talking to Michael about Jim and Nick. He's been interested in meeting both of them but he's been asking more questions about Jim... personal questions. Andrew and Lizzie have asked a few of their own too so I think I'm on the right track." A small frown creased his face. "There's one minor problem... he can't be Changed."
Warrick's amusement faded. "Oh."
Grissom shrugged. His mood brightened again. "Te'shal sa t'kel," Grissom said in an altered accent. "We will have what he will give us." He picked up his jacket. "Oh... and he doesn't know anything about you yet so you can't come to the House this weekend." He gathered his things. "Adam is going to be there along with Joe. That should be enough of an introduction."
"Enough of an introduction? With Adam? You're going to freak him out, Gil," Warrick warned. "Especially if Michael... takes to him."
"Jim will be fine with everything. He dealt with me just fine in the midst of Need. He's nervous but he's dealing with all the changes with a level head. Did you notice any differences in him this week?"
Warrick cocked his head, thinking. "He seemed a little more... I don't know... relaxed?" He grinned. "Damn... you and he really did it?"
"With all the bells and whistles," Gil confirmed. A glimmer came and went in Brown's eyes and Grissom barely held back his reaction. He never suspected there would be interest from the younger man. //Will wonders never cease? Jim is really going to have experiences all around if Rick has it his way.// "This happened very quickly," he said in a more sober tone, making sure Warrick understood. "He's not sure of himself or of what's he's gotten into. I've dragged him into our world and it's our obligation to make sure he understands the rules and how to protect himself."
Warrick nodded, equally serious. "So he'll be out too? How's that going down?"
"Personal Leave... something about an elderly grandaunt he's never mentioned who lives in New York. Michael's made the arrangements. It'll work." He picked up his keys. "I'll leave Ecklie updates on his voicemail. I have to pick up Jim." He walked towards the door. There was a lot to do today. "Don't give Sara a hard time when she finds you're in charge again."
"As long as she doesn't give me any grief about it," Warrick amended. He caught Grissom's arm as the other man started to open the door. "Nick's still here," he said quietly. "In the break room."
//Still here?// Grissom looked at Warrick. Nicholas Stokes. Young. Intelligent. Gentle. Healer potential. He knew this the moment they met over two years ago, when Nick came to Las Vegas to start a new career away from the shadow of his loving but famous parents. Over the months and years he had watched and waited for the right moment to approach the young man, to express his overwhelming attraction that was turning to something deeper, something Michael had teased him with, calling Nick his "perfect match".
Small steps. Gil knew he needed to be careful. Jim Brass had a troubled past, a sadness that called to Grissom to comfort. But with Nicholas Stokes there were deep scars in his psyche, a love of physical pleasure but a mistrust of intimacy. Jim was a caring human being with normal instincts and coping skills. But Nick was born sensitive to his environment, empathic. It made him more caring, more understanding and more vulnerable. When Gil himself was young he had been sensitive as was his father, who had also been a doctor. His father understood, had taught him ways to cope, provided refuge when his perception of the world became too chaotic. His mother, too, was supportive, even understanding his tastes for men rather than marrying as almost everyone did. He had been fortunate. He had been an only child. And though life in San Francisco was a little rougher in the Nineteenth Century, the pace was slower, its people more aware of the needs of their neighbors. But Nick was a product of life over a century later, the youngest of seven children. And though greatly loved by his family, was the victim of harsher times and to the loss of innocence at a young age.
Grissom had found this out during a case several months ago where a child had died while being treated in a therapist's office. Catherine had approached him, wanting to talk about Nick's involvement. Then suddenly the matter was resolved without more than a short, reassuring comment from his most senior investigator. All was well. But every fiber of his being knew there was more. He had watched unnoticed from outside the interrogation room where the suspects were being allowed to speak before their arrest. Nick's face was etched in stone, his posture tense, nearly defensive. Then suddenly he stood up and left. Gil had no time to move as Nick's body impacted with his in the hallway, throwing them both off balance...
"Oh shit... Gris." Nick's face was red, his eyes watery.
"Come on." As casually as possible Gil took Nick's arm and lead him down the hallway into Brass' office and closed the door, locking it. "Sit down, Nicky," he ordered gently then took out his cell phone. "I have Nick in your office," he said quickly, knowing Brass wouldn't mind and wouldn't ask why. He had been there when Nick left. "I've locked the door." As expected, he received a non-committal grunt from other end then the connection was broken. Gil took a moment to realize how far his friendship with Brass had come over the years and wondered if it was finally time to approach the cynical detective, bring him into his Householding as he and Michael had discussed. He allowed himself a brief smirk as he thought about how Jim would react to the knowledge, even to Grissom's own attraction to him.
"I'm okay," Nick said shakily, breaking into Grissom's thoughts. The young man was still standing, his expression more sober. His hand rested on the doorknob. Gil thought a moment then decided to take the risk. Nick's pain could not be ignored.
"No you're not," he said as he put his hand over Nick's, letting the shields within his mind to fall away with the ease of long practice. "Look at me."
If Nick had been aware, had had the proper training their abilities would have been well matched Grissom realized as his mind touched upon the unique energy signature that was Nicholas Stokes. Gil smiled a little as Nick's dark eyes grew distant. Yes... strong talent, hidden but emerging. For Nick's well-being as well as the protection of others there would come a time when this man would have to be trained by someone with more experience than Grissom, someone far older. However at this moment Nick was tired, upset and unaware. Gil lightly gathered control.
"Come and sit down, Nicky." Grissom physically released his friend's hand and walked over to sit down on an old leather couch Brass kept in his office, sensing Nick follow behind. It was a delicate balance. The proof of Nick's trust in him was in how rapidly he allowed Gil's mind to touch and guide without awareness or resistance. However at any moment Nick could become fully conscious of Grissom's influence and that special sense of trust might be forever lost. As a Healer among the L'Sangri he had a right to force for the benefit of others. But among humans, among those who did not know of L'Sangri, his ability to use his talents were limited.
"I'm really okay, Gris," Nick assured, his tone steady but tense. He was sitting but his posture was unsettled as if fighting the position imposed on him. Grissom sensed shame and frustration emanating from his friend and understood. //He's being hauled in for a private talk with his boss... what else would he think?//
"Listen to me, Nick," Grissom began firmly, determine to make his place in their conversation clear, letting his mind filter through Nick's thoughts and emotions without making his presence known. "I'm not sitting here as your supervisor but as your friend. You looked upset and I just wanted to give you someplace to calm down. If you want to talk, nothing you say will go beyond this room. If you just want to sit then we'll sit. I'm sure Catherine can handle what needs to be done and Brass probably won't be back for awhile."
Surprise flashed from Nick then cautious relief. "I'm--" He swallowed then tried again. "I probably should have taken myself off the case but I couldn't." His expression darkened and his lips tightened. Grissom exerted a little pressure, projecting a sense of safety, hoping to overcome Nick's natural resistance to speak of personal things. "That kid trusted them and they betrayed him!"
Trust. Betrayal. Youth. The image of a darkened bedroom, of a child sitting tense and silent in a chair staring out a window into the darkness of night came and went in Grissom's mind. Confusion. Fear. Guilt. Gil schooled his own features to remain impartial as a cold chill of understanding shivered through him. "Catherine tells me you did a fine job," he assured. "You found something most of us would have overlooked." He risked a hand on Nick's shoulder when all he really wanted to do was take this man into his arms and sooth the chaotic emotions churning within his young soul. "Nicky, the ideal is to keep yourself apart from the case, be the objective observer. Sometimes that's not possible because you're human."
It was the right thing to say. Nick stared at him, somewhat puzzled but accepting, his thoughts and emotions calming. "Catherine set me straight," he told him.
Grissom smiled. "I'm sure she did and you got back on track," he said, guessing at Catherine's sudden change of mind in wanting to speak to him. He looked Nick over. "Go home when you're done here," he ordered gently then winced as Nick's mind tore away from his, anger flashing along the psychic threads that connected them. Realizing his mistake Gil took Nick's hands into his, forcing calm into the situation before it went too far. "Nick stop," he urged. Nick's retreat idled. Grissom sighed. "Nick, I didn't mean it as anything other than what I said. You've worked hard on this. Your other cases and reports are up to date. As your supervisor I want you to take the extra time so you'll be ready to go without hesitation tomorrow night." He squeezed Nick's hands reassuringly. "As your friend I want you to take care of yourself. That's all."
Nick blinked, his mind accepting, his attention redirected as his eyes focused on their joined hands. A new tension emerged between them, one full of hesitant excitement and sexual awakening. Attraction. Nick cleared his throat, pulling lightly. Gil had the good grace to feel his own cheeks burn as he let go but he said nothing to dismiss the emotions that had passed between them. He finally had confirmation of something he had long suspected but he wanted Nick to take his time in realizing what it all meant. "I'll go after I sign off on this," Nick said as he visibly recovered.
"Good." Grissom got up. "See you tomorrow." He unlocked the door and left. As he got into the elevator by himself he took out his cell. "Rick? I've told Nick to take off early. No... no problem except he needs rest. Make sure he leaves without giving away you know he needs to. Thanks."
Within a week Grissom learned all the details from a L'Sangri court clerk who worked near Houston. In 1980 there had been a case of child molestation that never went to trial. The parents, who were rising up the political ladder in Texas, wanted the molester prosecuted but realized the mental strain of the publicity, of facing his attacker- a family friend who had agreed to babysit one evening- would prove too much for their nine-year-old son. So the molester was plead down to child endangerment with no mention of any sexual abuse and had long since served her time in jail. Grissom filed this new information away, knowing it could be very useful in helping Nick, in building the kind of relationship he wanted to have with the young man.
"Has he talked to you about what's bothering him?" Grissom asked, returning his thoughts to the present. In the last week or so Nick seemed more distant, more tired. His work, as usual, was efficient and professional but something wasn't right. Two days ago he had invited Stokes to join him for breakfast after a shift. But true to form, Nick spoke about a recent case and the fact he had just gotten a sophisticated cable system installed. He mentioned one of his sisters was due with her third child. But on the topic of whatever was really bothering him, Nick was silent. Yet the shared meal was not wasted. Every moment together connected them more deeply. Soon, Grissom knew, very soon, he was going to have to begin revealing himself to the younger man, exposing his people to yet another Outsider.
"Like I told you, he said he was having a little trouble sleeping but didn't want to get into it," Warrick replied casually. He shrugged. "On top of that, though, I think he's pretty upset about that "Crimestopper" thing."
Grissom smiled at that. Nick had worked a case where a mother had died in the home and a child had found her. At first it was unknown whether it had been an accident or murder. There were questions and evidence gathering and strangers in and out. The husband was away and had to be told over the phone that his wife was dead. The mother's sister was distraught, barely able to stay composed for the sake of the child. Nick had processed quickly, had spoken to the family kindly, had taken time to explain to the twelve year old exactly what happened and how it was not his fault for having come home late from school that day. The mother had suffered a seizure; had fallen and hit her head and died instantly. The family was grateful, had written a letter and the political-powers-that-be had insisted on holding Nick up as the ideal employee. Nick himself let go a comment that root canal would have been a better option.
"Thank you," Gil said to Warrick, sensing an opportunity, mentally rearranging his priorities. He took out is cell. "Jim? I'm going to be about a half hour late getting to you. Yes. Thank you." He patted Warrick on the arm as they both walked out of his office. "See you Monday night, Rick."
"In the stranger than strange department, Nevada Police were called to Saint Jerome's Cemetery yesterday. This morning there had been the well-attended funeral of an eighty-eight year old great-grandmother. Nothing unusual there until the workers were lowering her casket into the ground and discovered the grave was already occupied..."
Nick shrugged and stopped listening to the news blaring from the television. He had heard this story before. The decomposing body of a young woman found partially buried in a newly dug gravesite. Nude. No identification. Beaten. Assaulted. Ecklie's day shift had drawn the case. He had heard the arriving crew talk about how terrible it was. It was a case that required the veteran skills of Dr. Al Robbins to make sure the autopsy was done right and the girl could be identified. But there has also been a backlog and Robbins was only just getting to the case mid-morning. In passing through the morgue on another matter Nick had glimpsed at the body laying on a gurney, minutes away from preparation. The sheet covering it was stained with bodily fluids. The body itself was not a pretty sight he had heard. But as Nick passed close he had the momentary flash of knowledge that this woman had been very pretty, had been full of life, had had beautiful brown eyes...
"Hey Nick."
Startled Nick jumped a bit then quickly settled as his ears recognized Grissom's quiet voice. He looked up as his boss came into view to stand above him. //Handsome.// That was always Nick's first thought. In the first few days he knew Gil Grissom that thought would leave his pants tight and his cheeks burning for hours but now the thought was routine, accepted, silent. He liked the eccentric CSI supervisor. He found the larger body attractive and desirable. But more, he found himself drawn to that mysterious light that sometimes stirred in Gil's eyes, to that odd sense of being under this man's protection, to something his soul understood but had yet to reveal.
He trusted Grissom as he trusted few people in his life beyond his immediate family, especially after that case where a child had been murdered by a therapist and his mother. In the beginning, even during a majority of the investigation, there had been hints of sexual abuse. But in the end the death was found to be negligent homicide. The young victim had trusted his caregivers and they had failed him. But the whole case stirred dark memories within Nick's soul, made him anxious and apprehensive, possessive and single-minded to the point where he was losing the ability to work as a team. Catherine threatened then listened then forgave. He managed to stay professional right up until he faced the suspects in the interrogation room. Then he suddenly found he couldn't listen to them, couldn't tolerate the crying that only stirred his anger. He got up and left the room, hoping Catherine would again understand, knowing it was the only thing he could do to save the integrity of the investigation and his own professional career.
He collided with Grissom in the hallway. But instead of listening to the lecture on objectivity he was expecting he was taken to Brass' office and offered an ear. Grissom seem to understand what was going on even though Nick knew Gil couldn't know why that case had been different. At one point, when unreasoning anger threatened to lash out at the man trying to help him, Grissom took his hands and spoke in a quiet, steady voice calming the unreasoned panic that rose up within Nick's defenses.
But as his emotions settled Grissom's hands lingered, warm and inviting, causing another kind of anxiety to flush through Nick, arousing his groin, turning fanciful infatuation into physical desire. For a single second his muscles moved to put his need into action. Then he caught himself, pulling on Grissom's grip. Gil's own cheeks flushed and he let go, saying nothing that would embarrass them both. //To him probably nothing did happen. He's just not a touchy-feely kind of guy and I violated his space or something.// Yet since that day Grissom tended to stand closer to him and occasionally touch him when there was no need, leaving an odd but welcomed calm behind.
//My imagination,// Nick dismissed as he focused on Grissom standing above him, watching. //He's not... you know... shit, I don't even know if he's into sex and I'm not going to risk my job and my friendship to find out. Just keep it cool.// Nick drew a breath and smiled. "Hey, boss." He held up a notebook full of forms he had to get done. "Just finishing my paperwork before I leave."
Grissom returned the smile and sat down next to him. "I have an appointment I have to keep," he said casually. "But would you like company for breakfast? Say Saturday?"
Breakfast? Twice in one week? Saturday? Nick shrugged as he tried not to read anything into what Grissom offered. But he could sense something changing. "That would be great," he replied, hoping he sounded casual. "You want to go to Dennys?"
Gil raised his eyebrows. "How about I show you my cooking?" he offered.
Surprised, Nick stared at him. //Breakfast at his place?// Butterflies gathered lightly in his stomach as gentle alarms went off in his head. //His place? Sounds a little like a date, doesn't it boy?// Stokes studied his friend's expression, seeing nothing out of place except mild expectation. Yet there was something in Grissom's eyes, a hint of light. //Crazy,// he chided himself as he shook himself back to reality. //You're a jerk to think he's looking for anything other than good company.//
"Or Dennys would be all right if you'd like that."
Nick sighed. //Oh man, now I've made him uncomfortable. Get a hold of yourself, Stokes!// He smiled at Grissom, hoping he hadn't ruined the moment between them. "No. Your place would be fine."
Grissom patted his leg and got up. "Great! I can make omelets."
"Okay." Nick sat up straighter as he remembered something. "I won't be able to stay long," he amended shyly. "There's a game I wanted to see..."
Grissom raised an eyebrow. "You'd choose a game over my omelets?"
Nick checked Gil's expression and saw amusement. Still he looked away, feeling guilty. "The installer kind of gave me a few extras including a sports pak. Nice guy," he remembered. Bit of a dork but good company for the time he was there. He had said his name but Nick couldn't remember it now or exactly what he looked like.
"Nick, it's all right." Gil smiled. "I'll take your company as long as you can give it." His expression shadowed briefly as if surprised at something then his good humor returned. "Nicky, go home and get some rest. I'll see you tonight." He moved towards the door then turned back with a smirk on his face. "Oh... and as your supervisor I've managed to get most of the boxes of the new issue of 'CrimeStoppers' sent to my office when they come out... for you to do with what you want. You'll have to hunt down the rest."
With that he was gone. Nick stared at the empty space where Grissom had been, shocked to the core. Gil had almost forced him to go to the interview by clearing the way for a program assistant and photographer from the Development department to go out with Nick on a case. Now Grissom was giving him what he most desired at that moment? The opportunity to shred every single copy? Nick sighed as he closed his notebook and got up. //No, not every copy.// Nick yawned, suddenly more tired than he realized, though considering the amount of sleep he had been getting he shouldn't be surprised.
For the past two weeks he had been having frightening dreams that left him with feelings of dark dread. Something was wrong but he couldn't figure out the strange images of a dark, dank room and unending terror. His imagination, he determined. Probably a part of that paranoia that encroached on life from time to time, a cycle of anxiety attacks that would come and go. He was being a wimp and he had to get over it. First step was to do as Gil suggested. Go home and at least try to get better rest.
As he left the break room he noticed the graveyard story was up again with some mention of a press conference later in the day. //Glad we didn't catch this one,// Nick commented to himself as he walked out. //Gil hates publicity.//
"Now that I've revealed myself you need to go to Sorens House for a few days... maybe a week. I can't explain it all now but you need to know things I can't tell you here, partly because it's not my place to do so; partly because I want you to get to know my family, the family you're going to be a part of... if that's what you want."
Captain James Brass, Homicide Detective, stared at himself in the mirror, still trying to see the differences, still seeing nothing. Almost a week ago he was miserable enough to seek out something different, even dangerous in this day and age. Sex with a stranger. Twelve hours later he was waking up in Gil Grissom's bed, sexually sated, a strangely sensitive welt on his neck. L'Sangri. He accepted that word now without even a vague reference to that other word... vampire.
L'Sangri were "Of Blood". That was the first thing Gil told Jim while he stood in his kitchen making breakfast for them, after they had made love a second time. L'Sangri came from the Gauls and Eastern Europe at a time when Neanderthals were disappearing and Modern Man was spreading across the world. They were savage as the rest of the world was savage. They took advantage of their longevity and needs and enslaved humans for centuries. But slowly the world changed. L'Sangri changed. Humans learned to hunt L'Sangri, created tales they passed to their children to teach them fear and hate. The oral tales became vampire lore. In Europe these stories eventually became the tales of Dracula as told by Bram Stoker then later a woman named Anne Rice would give yet another twist to the lore.
In the 21st Century L'Sangri lived as a part yet apart from the world. Their small population was centered in the United States and Canada. They were, as they had always been, separate clans headed by a Regent and Regents headed by a Prince who ultimately decided all matters of law and enforcement. In Las Vegas Gil was part of the Sorens Householding lead by Michael Sorens, a man who helped Gil during his Change.
"Change?" Brass asked as he bit into a piece of toast, as they sat together to eat that Sunday morning, after they had made love for the second time.
Grissom grinned. "A little lesson in genetics. You know what makes a girl and a boy... yes?"
"Uh... yeah... XX... XY..."
Grissom took a bite of his eggs. "We have found that most women carry the L'Sangri gene. Scientists among us think it is a dormant mutation that existed in early Man and passed from mother to daughter. Meant nothing until another mutation occurred about 30,000 years ago. The gene that makes me L'Sangri is a similar mutation on the "Y" chromosome. When a man inherits this from his father and the similar mutation from his mother's "X" chromosome, he is full L'Sangri from birth. When a man only inherits from his father, he is L'Sangri but the mutation is hidden. If nothing happens the man will lead a normal life until he reaches his forties or fifties where his body will try to become what it was meant to be. Toxins begin to build up and the man will die." He pointed to himself. "This is how I was."
"You weren't born this way?"
"I was born this way. My father was born this way. All my paternal male relatives were born this way and died in infancy because they were full L'Sangri who never received the hormone; or they died before they were sixty. When I was growing up my mother told me it was "something" in the family. She said she hoped it would skip me." Distant sadness came and went on his face. "She didn't live long enough to find out it did."
"I'm sorry," Jim said sincerely. His own mother had died when he was a teenager.
Gil gave a vague shrug of his shoulders. "It was a very long time ago." He paused then added; "She died during the San Francisco earthquake in 1906."
Brass absorbed the date, calculating the time from Grissom's birth year, 1860. Gil had been forty-six. //Still, hell of a time to lose your mother.//
"I was a doctor... a surgeon," Grissom continued. "I was tending the sick and wounded when someone came and told me my mother had died in one of the dozens of fires that had broken out across the city. Neighbors had tried to find and rescue her but she probably didn't hear. She was deaf."
Jim didn't have anything to offer but a comforting touch on Grissom's arm. But it seemed to be enough as Gil's presence flowed into him, quietly accepting. "Is that when you Changed?"
Grissom nodded. "I met someone while I was helping to amputate a child's arm so we could remove her from the rubble. He said he was a fellow surgeon... Benjamin Adams. For a young man he seemed to have a vast knowledge of medicine, both old and new. He was very helpful to me when my mother died, arranged things for me." He smiled wistfully. "Told me what I was."
"Was he L'Sangri?"
"No." Grissom leveled a gaze at him. "But he's still alive. I-- can't tell you about that yet."
Brass shrugged, realizing Gil had his reasons. "So what happened?"
"I was already showing early signs of the illness my father had died of fifteen years before. Benjamin told me I didn't have to die, that I could be saved." His eyes twinkled. "He sent me to New York to see another man... Martino de Castile. When I got there I learned everything and made a choice." His eyes glittered pleasantly. "Martin shared his blood with me and I began my new life among the L'Sangri."
Brass considered. Grissom was a hundred and forty-one years old. He didn't look any older than the age he said he was when he Changed. "How long do you guys live?"
"Given the best conditions, a little over a thousand years."
Oh. It was too big a number to comprehend with all the other information he was being given. As he finished his toast and sipped his orange juice, the detective in him mentally examined what Gil was telling him. "So what about the ladies? The ones who have the gene?"
"They are all human from birth. The mutation that makes one L'Sangri in the way I am is carried on the "Y" chromosome. We believe it's nature's way. If a woman were L'Sangri in the same way men are they would never survive their monthly cycles or childbearing. In fact women who inherit the gene from both parents, if nothing is done, will usually develop chronic illnesses that will usually prove fatal as they enter late middle age."
"So women don't live as long as men?"
Grissom gave him an odd look then a quick smile. "Men or women who inherit the L'Sangri gene on the "X" chromosome can be Bound, which actually is translated from a word that means 'attached'. As told in vampire legends, if a human drinks from a vampire he or she will become a vampire. It's almost true. Humans become Bound, their metabolism slows down and so long as they take male L'Sangri blood as I need to take human blood they can live as long as the clansmen who changed them."
Brass stared at him. "So if I took blood from you--"
Grissom raised his hand to stop him. His expression turned neutral. "About ten-percent of women and thirty-percent of men don't have the L'Sangri gene at all, from either parent and can never be truly Bound... though sharing blood does have some minor effect."
//Don't have...// Brass immediately understood. "So... I can't be Changed... Bound?"
Gil laid a hand on Jim's arm, a supportive presence. "Not in the way that would keep you with us for much longer than your own lifetime, Jim. I knew last night... when I tasted your blood."
Oh. //So I won't live to be a thousand?// Brass inwardly smiled at the absurd notion. He sensed wariness in Gil's presence and shrugged. "I'm okay with it, Gris," he assured, realizing his lover was concerned about his reaction. "I mean, can't imagine living that long." But another set of worries teased him and he put his hand on top of Grissom's. "Does it matter to you?"
Grissom blinked at him then sighed. Jim could feel some barrier he didn't know existed between them suddenly disappear. Gil's affection touched him full force, nearly making his eyes tear with emotion. "No, it's doesn't matter. Not to me or my Regent or the Prince." His fingers whispered over Brass' cheek, a gesture of fondness Jim was just beginning to accept as a way Gil kept connected. "But I can't speak for everyone. Bigotry is a human failing and we are all, ultimately, human."
A few hours later, as he heard Grissom shower, the imagery played through Brass' thoughts, arousing him yet again. Taking a chance, prepared for the humiliation if he failed, he striped and got into bed. Five minutes later, Grissom entered the bedroom, a towel around his waist. As he paused in mid-step, Jim forced a confident smile on his lips. Gil's eyebrows rose as his towel fell to the floor. Nude, with an open smile on his lips, he lifted the bed covers slid in to lay beside Brass, his hand finding and clasping Jim's.
"You want your way with me?" Grissom said seductively, making no other move towards Brass, his presence within Jim steady but without urgency, waiting.
Jim licked his lips then pulled his hand from Gil's and turned on his side. Last night and this morning it was Grissom who initiated their lovemaking. Now Jim wanted to do it his way. Staring into bright blue eyes he let his hand trail over Gil's chest, taking note of the hair, of the warm, smooth skin. He had felt it all when they made love before but it was difference, brand new because of what he wanted. "I want to..." He hesitated, unsure of Gil's response, bolstered by Grissom's good humor and supportive presence. He did what Gil had been doing since Saturday night. He let his fingers trail over Grissom's face. "I want to be inside you." //God that's a mushy way of putting it.//
Grissom shifted slightly and reached back to pick a tube from the nightstand. His expression was soft as he held it out to his lover. "It's only when we're in Need that we have to control." He lay back and parted his legs slightly. "I would love to feel you inside me."
And with that Jim made love to Gil, feeling no real influence from Grissom, other than that steady thread that connected them as he prepared his lover. Last night had been the first time he had had intercourse with a man. Now would be his first time doing this to another man. He practiced what he experienced, feeling the first wave of absolute pleasure as he pushed into Grissom, as the tight warmth of his lover's body gripped him. Grissom groaned in obvious pleasure, shifting so Brass' engorged cock was forced deeper. "Damn Gil!"
"Fuck me," Grissom growled, shifting his hips again.
Barely holding onto thin threads of control Jim studied Grissom's face, watching the eyes that were faintly lit, at the expression that begged. Jim thrust,a heady feeling washing through him as Grissom surrendered. With a new sense of power Jim let himself go, thrusting hard, barely hearing Gil's cries as the connection between them broadcasted the pleasure he was creating, the climax they shared. Afterwards Jim lay against Grissom's back, his arm draped over his lover's torso, truly content in his heart and soul for the first time in decades.
"There's more to this, Jim," Gil said sometime later, his tone serious as he shifted onto his back and put an arm around Jim's shoulders. "Now that I've revealed myself you need to go to Sorens House for a few days. I can't explain it all now but you need to know things I can't tell you here, partly because it's not my place to do so; partly because I want you to get to know my family, the family you're going to be a part of... if that's what want."
//If that's what I want?// Jim tensed. //Why wouldn't I wanted it? Or is it about them wanting me?//
"Jim?" Grissom shifted more until his larger body half covered Jim's, his presence again influencing, calming. "What is it?"
Brass swallowed. "I don't know," he said honestly. "This is all a little scary." He wet his lips. "I mean it's great but--"
"Overwhelming?" Gil caressed his face. "That's why you need to go. I'm not going to candy-coat it. In spite of our lifespan we are vulnerable and fragile. There was a time when our population was nearly wiped out and we guard against the time it could happen again. For this reason we are careful about who we bring into our world, Jim... who we reveal ourselves to." He kissed him. "You've been discussed," he said with a smile. "I've had my eye on you for a long time." Light laughter. "I was thinking of asking you to dinner sometime next week... outside of work." He kissed him again. "But you beat me to the punchline."
"Ba-Da-Bum," Brass quipped, rushing the joke past his trepidations. //I've been discussed? Careful? I guess they would have to be.// He scanned Gil's face, seeing a kind of patience he never saw in the Gil Grissom he worked with on a daily basis. Without understanding everything he understood the depth of trust he was being shown and wondered why they thought he deserved it. "What can I say?"
"Nothing." Grissom's lips descended to Brass' throat. "We'll work it all out," he muttered as he nuzzled Jim, inhaling deeply. "You smell good."
To his surprise Jim groaned as Grissom's thigh brushed his cock, rousing it from it's sated stupor. "I haven't done it this much since--" He cried out softly as teeth nipped his shoulder. "Oh god, Gil!"))
A sharp shrill startled Brass out of his memories. He glanced down at his cell phone. Gil's number. "Gris?"
"Are you coming?" Grissom greeted a bit impatiently. "I've been waiting out here about five minutes. Lizzie said she was making a luncheon and I'm starved."
Five minutes? Brass glanced in the mirror one more time, at the neat but casual clothes he wore, meeting his own gaze as he wondered just what the next few days would bring. "Coming," he said shortly as he walked out of his bedroom and grabbed his overnight bag as well as his wallet and shield. He opened his door and smiled as he saw Grissom's Tahoe gleaming in the sun. //Showtime,// He locked his front door and headed down the walk towards the waiting vehicle.
TBC...
Enjoy... Comment if you'd like to...
This is Slash Rated NC-17
Part 2
It was as Gil Grissom, supervisor of the night shift at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, had hoped it would be for a Wednesday night, quiet. Two murders, a drunken driver and a robbery. His people had processed quickly and efficiently, had given him their preliminary reports in the last half hour of their shifts. All done. He only needed to give report to Ecklie then sign off and his shift was done.
"You got a minute?"
Grissom automatically nodded, smiling as Warrick Brown came into his office and closed the door. The dark man smiled back, his demeanor changing as privacy changed the dynamics between them. "I needed to see you before I left today," Gil began. "I'm going to have a stomach flu tomorrow night and Catherine needs to attend something with Lindsay during the day and I didn't want to burden her with this so I need you to cover for me."
Warrick stared at him with an inquiring expression. "What's up?" he asked.
"Nothing's wrong." Gil gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. "But you might want to sit down."
Warrick casually obeyed, his expression still expectant. "Okay... what?"
Grissom felt his facial muscles move into smirk but ruthlessly stopped that gesture. A more perverse part of his personality had been waiting for this moment, making Michael swear to silence if Warrick should talk to him. He folded his hands on his lap, eyeing his friend closely. "Hard to miss I was in Need last week," he began then shrugged. "I went to the club, that quiet one run by Ashley?"
"Yeah." Confusion furrowed Warrick's brow. "And you look like you got more than you needed," he observed with a grin. "Was there a problem?"
Gil dropped his facade and smiled smartly. "Brass was there."
Over the years he had seen every kind of emotion cross Warrick's face but the one he saw now reminded him that he really should have set up a camera. Hazel eyes widened. His friend's mouth hung open as pure shock broadcasted from him. "He was there?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes," he answered simply, taking joy in making his friend work it through.
"And you--"
"Yes."
"You and Brass? You and he--" He rubbed his hands over his face then peered at Gil. "You told him?"
"Yes." Grissom ruthlessly kept himself from laughing. "Rick, it's all right."
"It's all right?" Warrick stood and paced the length of the office. "Man, I can't believe it!"
"You started it," Grissom accused mildly. "You said he needed a family." He straightened and held out his hands in an encompassing gesture. "I'm giving him one."
"I--" Warrick studied Gil for several seconds. Amusement slowly crept into his own eyes as he crossed his arms in front of him and leaned against the wall. "So?"
Grissom raised his eyebrows. "So?"
"Brass," Warrick threw out teasingly then snorted and shook his head. "Never thought-- He was okay with... this?"
Gil nodded happily briefly remembering that night. That morning. Then that afternoon where Brass, to Grissom's delight, actually initiated their lovemaking, finally trusting what Gil was telling him. "That cynical, sometimes irritating exterior holds a lot of pain." He shivered a bit as he remembered the wisps of darkness he found within his friend. "I tried to help."
Warrick frowned. "While you were in Need? Michael won't be happy."
"Michael wasn't happy... but it's not his place to do more than be unhappy." Grissom stood. "I couldn't do anything else, Rick. I could feel the pain but I never knew it ran so deep." He sighed. "I didn't even do as much as I wanted but enough I think." His lips turned up in a sly smile. "Maybe Jim just needs to meet the right man."
Warrick's eyes narrowed. "Who--" His expression brightened as he caught on. "Michael? You're going to connect him to Michael?"
Grissom smirked. "Why not? You know I've been talking to Michael about Jim and Nick. He's been interested in meeting both of them but he's been asking more questions about Jim... personal questions. Andrew and Lizzie have asked a few of their own too so I think I'm on the right track." A small frown creased his face. "There's one minor problem... he can't be Changed."
Warrick's amusement faded. "Oh."
Grissom shrugged. His mood brightened again. "Te'shal sa t'kel," Grissom said in an altered accent. "We will have what he will give us." He picked up his jacket. "Oh... and he doesn't know anything about you yet so you can't come to the House this weekend." He gathered his things. "Adam is going to be there along with Joe. That should be enough of an introduction."
"Enough of an introduction? With Adam? You're going to freak him out, Gil," Warrick warned. "Especially if Michael... takes to him."
"Jim will be fine with everything. He dealt with me just fine in the midst of Need. He's nervous but he's dealing with all the changes with a level head. Did you notice any differences in him this week?"
Warrick cocked his head, thinking. "He seemed a little more... I don't know... relaxed?" He grinned. "Damn... you and he really did it?"
"With all the bells and whistles," Gil confirmed. A glimmer came and went in Brown's eyes and Grissom barely held back his reaction. He never suspected there would be interest from the younger man. //Will wonders never cease? Jim is really going to have experiences all around if Rick has it his way.// "This happened very quickly," he said in a more sober tone, making sure Warrick understood. "He's not sure of himself or of what's he's gotten into. I've dragged him into our world and it's our obligation to make sure he understands the rules and how to protect himself."
Warrick nodded, equally serious. "So he'll be out too? How's that going down?"
"Personal Leave... something about an elderly grandaunt he's never mentioned who lives in New York. Michael's made the arrangements. It'll work." He picked up his keys. "I'll leave Ecklie updates on his voicemail. I have to pick up Jim." He walked towards the door. There was a lot to do today. "Don't give Sara a hard time when she finds you're in charge again."
"As long as she doesn't give me any grief about it," Warrick amended. He caught Grissom's arm as the other man started to open the door. "Nick's still here," he said quietly. "In the break room."
//Still here?// Grissom looked at Warrick. Nicholas Stokes. Young. Intelligent. Gentle. Healer potential. He knew this the moment they met over two years ago, when Nick came to Las Vegas to start a new career away from the shadow of his loving but famous parents. Over the months and years he had watched and waited for the right moment to approach the young man, to express his overwhelming attraction that was turning to something deeper, something Michael had teased him with, calling Nick his "perfect match".
Small steps. Gil knew he needed to be careful. Jim Brass had a troubled past, a sadness that called to Grissom to comfort. But with Nicholas Stokes there were deep scars in his psyche, a love of physical pleasure but a mistrust of intimacy. Jim was a caring human being with normal instincts and coping skills. But Nick was born sensitive to his environment, empathic. It made him more caring, more understanding and more vulnerable. When Gil himself was young he had been sensitive as was his father, who had also been a doctor. His father understood, had taught him ways to cope, provided refuge when his perception of the world became too chaotic. His mother, too, was supportive, even understanding his tastes for men rather than marrying as almost everyone did. He had been fortunate. He had been an only child. And though life in San Francisco was a little rougher in the Nineteenth Century, the pace was slower, its people more aware of the needs of their neighbors. But Nick was a product of life over a century later, the youngest of seven children. And though greatly loved by his family, was the victim of harsher times and to the loss of innocence at a young age.
Grissom had found this out during a case several months ago where a child had died while being treated in a therapist's office. Catherine had approached him, wanting to talk about Nick's involvement. Then suddenly the matter was resolved without more than a short, reassuring comment from his most senior investigator. All was well. But every fiber of his being knew there was more. He had watched unnoticed from outside the interrogation room where the suspects were being allowed to speak before their arrest. Nick's face was etched in stone, his posture tense, nearly defensive. Then suddenly he stood up and left. Gil had no time to move as Nick's body impacted with his in the hallway, throwing them both off balance...
"Oh shit... Gris." Nick's face was red, his eyes watery.
"Come on." As casually as possible Gil took Nick's arm and lead him down the hallway into Brass' office and closed the door, locking it. "Sit down, Nicky," he ordered gently then took out his cell phone. "I have Nick in your office," he said quickly, knowing Brass wouldn't mind and wouldn't ask why. He had been there when Nick left. "I've locked the door." As expected, he received a non-committal grunt from other end then the connection was broken. Gil took a moment to realize how far his friendship with Brass had come over the years and wondered if it was finally time to approach the cynical detective, bring him into his Householding as he and Michael had discussed. He allowed himself a brief smirk as he thought about how Jim would react to the knowledge, even to Grissom's own attraction to him.
"I'm okay," Nick said shakily, breaking into Grissom's thoughts. The young man was still standing, his expression more sober. His hand rested on the doorknob. Gil thought a moment then decided to take the risk. Nick's pain could not be ignored.
"No you're not," he said as he put his hand over Nick's, letting the shields within his mind to fall away with the ease of long practice. "Look at me."
If Nick had been aware, had had the proper training their abilities would have been well matched Grissom realized as his mind touched upon the unique energy signature that was Nicholas Stokes. Gil smiled a little as Nick's dark eyes grew distant. Yes... strong talent, hidden but emerging. For Nick's well-being as well as the protection of others there would come a time when this man would have to be trained by someone with more experience than Grissom, someone far older. However at this moment Nick was tired, upset and unaware. Gil lightly gathered control.
"Come and sit down, Nicky." Grissom physically released his friend's hand and walked over to sit down on an old leather couch Brass kept in his office, sensing Nick follow behind. It was a delicate balance. The proof of Nick's trust in him was in how rapidly he allowed Gil's mind to touch and guide without awareness or resistance. However at any moment Nick could become fully conscious of Grissom's influence and that special sense of trust might be forever lost. As a Healer among the L'Sangri he had a right to force for the benefit of others. But among humans, among those who did not know of L'Sangri, his ability to use his talents were limited.
"I'm really okay, Gris," Nick assured, his tone steady but tense. He was sitting but his posture was unsettled as if fighting the position imposed on him. Grissom sensed shame and frustration emanating from his friend and understood. //He's being hauled in for a private talk with his boss... what else would he think?//
"Listen to me, Nick," Grissom began firmly, determine to make his place in their conversation clear, letting his mind filter through Nick's thoughts and emotions without making his presence known. "I'm not sitting here as your supervisor but as your friend. You looked upset and I just wanted to give you someplace to calm down. If you want to talk, nothing you say will go beyond this room. If you just want to sit then we'll sit. I'm sure Catherine can handle what needs to be done and Brass probably won't be back for awhile."
Surprise flashed from Nick then cautious relief. "I'm--" He swallowed then tried again. "I probably should have taken myself off the case but I couldn't." His expression darkened and his lips tightened. Grissom exerted a little pressure, projecting a sense of safety, hoping to overcome Nick's natural resistance to speak of personal things. "That kid trusted them and they betrayed him!"
Trust. Betrayal. Youth. The image of a darkened bedroom, of a child sitting tense and silent in a chair staring out a window into the darkness of night came and went in Grissom's mind. Confusion. Fear. Guilt. Gil schooled his own features to remain impartial as a cold chill of understanding shivered through him. "Catherine tells me you did a fine job," he assured. "You found something most of us would have overlooked." He risked a hand on Nick's shoulder when all he really wanted to do was take this man into his arms and sooth the chaotic emotions churning within his young soul. "Nicky, the ideal is to keep yourself apart from the case, be the objective observer. Sometimes that's not possible because you're human."
It was the right thing to say. Nick stared at him, somewhat puzzled but accepting, his thoughts and emotions calming. "Catherine set me straight," he told him.
Grissom smiled. "I'm sure she did and you got back on track," he said, guessing at Catherine's sudden change of mind in wanting to speak to him. He looked Nick over. "Go home when you're done here," he ordered gently then winced as Nick's mind tore away from his, anger flashing along the psychic threads that connected them. Realizing his mistake Gil took Nick's hands into his, forcing calm into the situation before it went too far. "Nick stop," he urged. Nick's retreat idled. Grissom sighed. "Nick, I didn't mean it as anything other than what I said. You've worked hard on this. Your other cases and reports are up to date. As your supervisor I want you to take the extra time so you'll be ready to go without hesitation tomorrow night." He squeezed Nick's hands reassuringly. "As your friend I want you to take care of yourself. That's all."
Nick blinked, his mind accepting, his attention redirected as his eyes focused on their joined hands. A new tension emerged between them, one full of hesitant excitement and sexual awakening. Attraction. Nick cleared his throat, pulling lightly. Gil had the good grace to feel his own cheeks burn as he let go but he said nothing to dismiss the emotions that had passed between them. He finally had confirmation of something he had long suspected but he wanted Nick to take his time in realizing what it all meant. "I'll go after I sign off on this," Nick said as he visibly recovered.
"Good." Grissom got up. "See you tomorrow." He unlocked the door and left. As he got into the elevator by himself he took out his cell. "Rick? I've told Nick to take off early. No... no problem except he needs rest. Make sure he leaves without giving away you know he needs to. Thanks."
Within a week Grissom learned all the details from a L'Sangri court clerk who worked near Houston. In 1980 there had been a case of child molestation that never went to trial. The parents, who were rising up the political ladder in Texas, wanted the molester prosecuted but realized the mental strain of the publicity, of facing his attacker- a family friend who had agreed to babysit one evening- would prove too much for their nine-year-old son. So the molester was plead down to child endangerment with no mention of any sexual abuse and had long since served her time in jail. Grissom filed this new information away, knowing it could be very useful in helping Nick, in building the kind of relationship he wanted to have with the young man.
"Has he talked to you about what's bothering him?" Grissom asked, returning his thoughts to the present. In the last week or so Nick seemed more distant, more tired. His work, as usual, was efficient and professional but something wasn't right. Two days ago he had invited Stokes to join him for breakfast after a shift. But true to form, Nick spoke about a recent case and the fact he had just gotten a sophisticated cable system installed. He mentioned one of his sisters was due with her third child. But on the topic of whatever was really bothering him, Nick was silent. Yet the shared meal was not wasted. Every moment together connected them more deeply. Soon, Grissom knew, very soon, he was going to have to begin revealing himself to the younger man, exposing his people to yet another Outsider.
"Like I told you, he said he was having a little trouble sleeping but didn't want to get into it," Warrick replied casually. He shrugged. "On top of that, though, I think he's pretty upset about that "Crimestopper" thing."
Grissom smiled at that. Nick had worked a case where a mother had died in the home and a child had found her. At first it was unknown whether it had been an accident or murder. There were questions and evidence gathering and strangers in and out. The husband was away and had to be told over the phone that his wife was dead. The mother's sister was distraught, barely able to stay composed for the sake of the child. Nick had processed quickly, had spoken to the family kindly, had taken time to explain to the twelve year old exactly what happened and how it was not his fault for having come home late from school that day. The mother had suffered a seizure; had fallen and hit her head and died instantly. The family was grateful, had written a letter and the political-powers-that-be had insisted on holding Nick up as the ideal employee. Nick himself let go a comment that root canal would have been a better option.
"Thank you," Gil said to Warrick, sensing an opportunity, mentally rearranging his priorities. He took out is cell. "Jim? I'm going to be about a half hour late getting to you. Yes. Thank you." He patted Warrick on the arm as they both walked out of his office. "See you Monday night, Rick."
"In the stranger than strange department, Nevada Police were called to Saint Jerome's Cemetery yesterday. This morning there had been the well-attended funeral of an eighty-eight year old great-grandmother. Nothing unusual there until the workers were lowering her casket into the ground and discovered the grave was already occupied..."
Nick shrugged and stopped listening to the news blaring from the television. He had heard this story before. The decomposing body of a young woman found partially buried in a newly dug gravesite. Nude. No identification. Beaten. Assaulted. Ecklie's day shift had drawn the case. He had heard the arriving crew talk about how terrible it was. It was a case that required the veteran skills of Dr. Al Robbins to make sure the autopsy was done right and the girl could be identified. But there has also been a backlog and Robbins was only just getting to the case mid-morning. In passing through the morgue on another matter Nick had glimpsed at the body laying on a gurney, minutes away from preparation. The sheet covering it was stained with bodily fluids. The body itself was not a pretty sight he had heard. But as Nick passed close he had the momentary flash of knowledge that this woman had been very pretty, had been full of life, had had beautiful brown eyes...
"Hey Nick."
Startled Nick jumped a bit then quickly settled as his ears recognized Grissom's quiet voice. He looked up as his boss came into view to stand above him. //Handsome.// That was always Nick's first thought. In the first few days he knew Gil Grissom that thought would leave his pants tight and his cheeks burning for hours but now the thought was routine, accepted, silent. He liked the eccentric CSI supervisor. He found the larger body attractive and desirable. But more, he found himself drawn to that mysterious light that sometimes stirred in Gil's eyes, to that odd sense of being under this man's protection, to something his soul understood but had yet to reveal.
He trusted Grissom as he trusted few people in his life beyond his immediate family, especially after that case where a child had been murdered by a therapist and his mother. In the beginning, even during a majority of the investigation, there had been hints of sexual abuse. But in the end the death was found to be negligent homicide. The young victim had trusted his caregivers and they had failed him. But the whole case stirred dark memories within Nick's soul, made him anxious and apprehensive, possessive and single-minded to the point where he was losing the ability to work as a team. Catherine threatened then listened then forgave. He managed to stay professional right up until he faced the suspects in the interrogation room. Then he suddenly found he couldn't listen to them, couldn't tolerate the crying that only stirred his anger. He got up and left the room, hoping Catherine would again understand, knowing it was the only thing he could do to save the integrity of the investigation and his own professional career.
He collided with Grissom in the hallway. But instead of listening to the lecture on objectivity he was expecting he was taken to Brass' office and offered an ear. Grissom seem to understand what was going on even though Nick knew Gil couldn't know why that case had been different. At one point, when unreasoning anger threatened to lash out at the man trying to help him, Grissom took his hands and spoke in a quiet, steady voice calming the unreasoned panic that rose up within Nick's defenses.
But as his emotions settled Grissom's hands lingered, warm and inviting, causing another kind of anxiety to flush through Nick, arousing his groin, turning fanciful infatuation into physical desire. For a single second his muscles moved to put his need into action. Then he caught himself, pulling on Grissom's grip. Gil's own cheeks flushed and he let go, saying nothing that would embarrass them both. //To him probably nothing did happen. He's just not a touchy-feely kind of guy and I violated his space or something.// Yet since that day Grissom tended to stand closer to him and occasionally touch him when there was no need, leaving an odd but welcomed calm behind.
//My imagination,// Nick dismissed as he focused on Grissom standing above him, watching. //He's not... you know... shit, I don't even know if he's into sex and I'm not going to risk my job and my friendship to find out. Just keep it cool.// Nick drew a breath and smiled. "Hey, boss." He held up a notebook full of forms he had to get done. "Just finishing my paperwork before I leave."
Grissom returned the smile and sat down next to him. "I have an appointment I have to keep," he said casually. "But would you like company for breakfast? Say Saturday?"
Breakfast? Twice in one week? Saturday? Nick shrugged as he tried not to read anything into what Grissom offered. But he could sense something changing. "That would be great," he replied, hoping he sounded casual. "You want to go to Dennys?"
Gil raised his eyebrows. "How about I show you my cooking?" he offered.
Surprised, Nick stared at him. //Breakfast at his place?// Butterflies gathered lightly in his stomach as gentle alarms went off in his head. //His place? Sounds a little like a date, doesn't it boy?// Stokes studied his friend's expression, seeing nothing out of place except mild expectation. Yet there was something in Grissom's eyes, a hint of light. //Crazy,// he chided himself as he shook himself back to reality. //You're a jerk to think he's looking for anything other than good company.//
"Or Dennys would be all right if you'd like that."
Nick sighed. //Oh man, now I've made him uncomfortable. Get a hold of yourself, Stokes!// He smiled at Grissom, hoping he hadn't ruined the moment between them. "No. Your place would be fine."
Grissom patted his leg and got up. "Great! I can make omelets."
"Okay." Nick sat up straighter as he remembered something. "I won't be able to stay long," he amended shyly. "There's a game I wanted to see..."
Grissom raised an eyebrow. "You'd choose a game over my omelets?"
Nick checked Gil's expression and saw amusement. Still he looked away, feeling guilty. "The installer kind of gave me a few extras including a sports pak. Nice guy," he remembered. Bit of a dork but good company for the time he was there. He had said his name but Nick couldn't remember it now or exactly what he looked like.
"Nick, it's all right." Gil smiled. "I'll take your company as long as you can give it." His expression shadowed briefly as if surprised at something then his good humor returned. "Nicky, go home and get some rest. I'll see you tonight." He moved towards the door then turned back with a smirk on his face. "Oh... and as your supervisor I've managed to get most of the boxes of the new issue of 'CrimeStoppers' sent to my office when they come out... for you to do with what you want. You'll have to hunt down the rest."
With that he was gone. Nick stared at the empty space where Grissom had been, shocked to the core. Gil had almost forced him to go to the interview by clearing the way for a program assistant and photographer from the Development department to go out with Nick on a case. Now Grissom was giving him what he most desired at that moment? The opportunity to shred every single copy? Nick sighed as he closed his notebook and got up. //No, not every copy.// Nick yawned, suddenly more tired than he realized, though considering the amount of sleep he had been getting he shouldn't be surprised.
For the past two weeks he had been having frightening dreams that left him with feelings of dark dread. Something was wrong but he couldn't figure out the strange images of a dark, dank room and unending terror. His imagination, he determined. Probably a part of that paranoia that encroached on life from time to time, a cycle of anxiety attacks that would come and go. He was being a wimp and he had to get over it. First step was to do as Gil suggested. Go home and at least try to get better rest.
As he left the break room he noticed the graveyard story was up again with some mention of a press conference later in the day. //Glad we didn't catch this one,// Nick commented to himself as he walked out. //Gil hates publicity.//
"Now that I've revealed myself you need to go to Sorens House for a few days... maybe a week. I can't explain it all now but you need to know things I can't tell you here, partly because it's not my place to do so; partly because I want you to get to know my family, the family you're going to be a part of... if that's what you want."
Captain James Brass, Homicide Detective, stared at himself in the mirror, still trying to see the differences, still seeing nothing. Almost a week ago he was miserable enough to seek out something different, even dangerous in this day and age. Sex with a stranger. Twelve hours later he was waking up in Gil Grissom's bed, sexually sated, a strangely sensitive welt on his neck. L'Sangri. He accepted that word now without even a vague reference to that other word... vampire.
L'Sangri were "Of Blood". That was the first thing Gil told Jim while he stood in his kitchen making breakfast for them, after they had made love a second time. L'Sangri came from the Gauls and Eastern Europe at a time when Neanderthals were disappearing and Modern Man was spreading across the world. They were savage as the rest of the world was savage. They took advantage of their longevity and needs and enslaved humans for centuries. But slowly the world changed. L'Sangri changed. Humans learned to hunt L'Sangri, created tales they passed to their children to teach them fear and hate. The oral tales became vampire lore. In Europe these stories eventually became the tales of Dracula as told by Bram Stoker then later a woman named Anne Rice would give yet another twist to the lore.
In the 21st Century L'Sangri lived as a part yet apart from the world. Their small population was centered in the United States and Canada. They were, as they had always been, separate clans headed by a Regent and Regents headed by a Prince who ultimately decided all matters of law and enforcement. In Las Vegas Gil was part of the Sorens Householding lead by Michael Sorens, a man who helped Gil during his Change.
"Change?" Brass asked as he bit into a piece of toast, as they sat together to eat that Sunday morning, after they had made love for the second time.
Grissom grinned. "A little lesson in genetics. You know what makes a girl and a boy... yes?"
"Uh... yeah... XX... XY..."
Grissom took a bite of his eggs. "We have found that most women carry the L'Sangri gene. Scientists among us think it is a dormant mutation that existed in early Man and passed from mother to daughter. Meant nothing until another mutation occurred about 30,000 years ago. The gene that makes me L'Sangri is a similar mutation on the "Y" chromosome. When a man inherits this from his father and the similar mutation from his mother's "X" chromosome, he is full L'Sangri from birth. When a man only inherits from his father, he is L'Sangri but the mutation is hidden. If nothing happens the man will lead a normal life until he reaches his forties or fifties where his body will try to become what it was meant to be. Toxins begin to build up and the man will die." He pointed to himself. "This is how I was."
"You weren't born this way?"
"I was born this way. My father was born this way. All my paternal male relatives were born this way and died in infancy because they were full L'Sangri who never received the hormone; or they died before they were sixty. When I was growing up my mother told me it was "something" in the family. She said she hoped it would skip me." Distant sadness came and went on his face. "She didn't live long enough to find out it did."
"I'm sorry," Jim said sincerely. His own mother had died when he was a teenager.
Gil gave a vague shrug of his shoulders. "It was a very long time ago." He paused then added; "She died during the San Francisco earthquake in 1906."
Brass absorbed the date, calculating the time from Grissom's birth year, 1860. Gil had been forty-six. //Still, hell of a time to lose your mother.//
"I was a doctor... a surgeon," Grissom continued. "I was tending the sick and wounded when someone came and told me my mother had died in one of the dozens of fires that had broken out across the city. Neighbors had tried to find and rescue her but she probably didn't hear. She was deaf."
Jim didn't have anything to offer but a comforting touch on Grissom's arm. But it seemed to be enough as Gil's presence flowed into him, quietly accepting. "Is that when you Changed?"
Grissom nodded. "I met someone while I was helping to amputate a child's arm so we could remove her from the rubble. He said he was a fellow surgeon... Benjamin Adams. For a young man he seemed to have a vast knowledge of medicine, both old and new. He was very helpful to me when my mother died, arranged things for me." He smiled wistfully. "Told me what I was."
"Was he L'Sangri?"
"No." Grissom leveled a gaze at him. "But he's still alive. I-- can't tell you about that yet."
Brass shrugged, realizing Gil had his reasons. "So what happened?"
"I was already showing early signs of the illness my father had died of fifteen years before. Benjamin told me I didn't have to die, that I could be saved." His eyes twinkled. "He sent me to New York to see another man... Martino de Castile. When I got there I learned everything and made a choice." His eyes glittered pleasantly. "Martin shared his blood with me and I began my new life among the L'Sangri."
Brass considered. Grissom was a hundred and forty-one years old. He didn't look any older than the age he said he was when he Changed. "How long do you guys live?"
"Given the best conditions, a little over a thousand years."
Oh. It was too big a number to comprehend with all the other information he was being given. As he finished his toast and sipped his orange juice, the detective in him mentally examined what Gil was telling him. "So what about the ladies? The ones who have the gene?"
"They are all human from birth. The mutation that makes one L'Sangri in the way I am is carried on the "Y" chromosome. We believe it's nature's way. If a woman were L'Sangri in the same way men are they would never survive their monthly cycles or childbearing. In fact women who inherit the gene from both parents, if nothing is done, will usually develop chronic illnesses that will usually prove fatal as they enter late middle age."
"So women don't live as long as men?"
Grissom gave him an odd look then a quick smile. "Men or women who inherit the L'Sangri gene on the "X" chromosome can be Bound, which actually is translated from a word that means 'attached'. As told in vampire legends, if a human drinks from a vampire he or she will become a vampire. It's almost true. Humans become Bound, their metabolism slows down and so long as they take male L'Sangri blood as I need to take human blood they can live as long as the clansmen who changed them."
Brass stared at him. "So if I took blood from you--"
Grissom raised his hand to stop him. His expression turned neutral. "About ten-percent of women and thirty-percent of men don't have the L'Sangri gene at all, from either parent and can never be truly Bound... though sharing blood does have some minor effect."
//Don't have...// Brass immediately understood. "So... I can't be Changed... Bound?"
Gil laid a hand on Jim's arm, a supportive presence. "Not in the way that would keep you with us for much longer than your own lifetime, Jim. I knew last night... when I tasted your blood."
Oh. //So I won't live to be a thousand?// Brass inwardly smiled at the absurd notion. He sensed wariness in Gil's presence and shrugged. "I'm okay with it, Gris," he assured, realizing his lover was concerned about his reaction. "I mean, can't imagine living that long." But another set of worries teased him and he put his hand on top of Grissom's. "Does it matter to you?"
Grissom blinked at him then sighed. Jim could feel some barrier he didn't know existed between them suddenly disappear. Gil's affection touched him full force, nearly making his eyes tear with emotion. "No, it's doesn't matter. Not to me or my Regent or the Prince." His fingers whispered over Brass' cheek, a gesture of fondness Jim was just beginning to accept as a way Gil kept connected. "But I can't speak for everyone. Bigotry is a human failing and we are all, ultimately, human."
A few hours later, as he heard Grissom shower, the imagery played through Brass' thoughts, arousing him yet again. Taking a chance, prepared for the humiliation if he failed, he striped and got into bed. Five minutes later, Grissom entered the bedroom, a towel around his waist. As he paused in mid-step, Jim forced a confident smile on his lips. Gil's eyebrows rose as his towel fell to the floor. Nude, with an open smile on his lips, he lifted the bed covers slid in to lay beside Brass, his hand finding and clasping Jim's.
"You want your way with me?" Grissom said seductively, making no other move towards Brass, his presence within Jim steady but without urgency, waiting.
Jim licked his lips then pulled his hand from Gil's and turned on his side. Last night and this morning it was Grissom who initiated their lovemaking. Now Jim wanted to do it his way. Staring into bright blue eyes he let his hand trail over Gil's chest, taking note of the hair, of the warm, smooth skin. He had felt it all when they made love before but it was difference, brand new because of what he wanted. "I want to..." He hesitated, unsure of Gil's response, bolstered by Grissom's good humor and supportive presence. He did what Gil had been doing since Saturday night. He let his fingers trail over Grissom's face. "I want to be inside you." //God that's a mushy way of putting it.//
Grissom shifted slightly and reached back to pick a tube from the nightstand. His expression was soft as he held it out to his lover. "It's only when we're in Need that we have to control." He lay back and parted his legs slightly. "I would love to feel you inside me."
And with that Jim made love to Gil, feeling no real influence from Grissom, other than that steady thread that connected them as he prepared his lover. Last night had been the first time he had had intercourse with a man. Now would be his first time doing this to another man. He practiced what he experienced, feeling the first wave of absolute pleasure as he pushed into Grissom, as the tight warmth of his lover's body gripped him. Grissom groaned in obvious pleasure, shifting so Brass' engorged cock was forced deeper. "Damn Gil!"
"Fuck me," Grissom growled, shifting his hips again.
Barely holding onto thin threads of control Jim studied Grissom's face, watching the eyes that were faintly lit, at the expression that begged. Jim thrust,a heady feeling washing through him as Grissom surrendered. With a new sense of power Jim let himself go, thrusting hard, barely hearing Gil's cries as the connection between them broadcasted the pleasure he was creating, the climax they shared. Afterwards Jim lay against Grissom's back, his arm draped over his lover's torso, truly content in his heart and soul for the first time in decades.
"There's more to this, Jim," Gil said sometime later, his tone serious as he shifted onto his back and put an arm around Jim's shoulders. "Now that I've revealed myself you need to go to Sorens House for a few days. I can't explain it all now but you need to know things I can't tell you here, partly because it's not my place to do so; partly because I want you to get to know my family, the family you're going to be a part of... if that's what want."
//If that's what I want?// Jim tensed. //Why wouldn't I wanted it? Or is it about them wanting me?//
"Jim?" Grissom shifted more until his larger body half covered Jim's, his presence again influencing, calming. "What is it?"
Brass swallowed. "I don't know," he said honestly. "This is all a little scary." He wet his lips. "I mean it's great but--"
"Overwhelming?" Gil caressed his face. "That's why you need to go. I'm not going to candy-coat it. In spite of our lifespan we are vulnerable and fragile. There was a time when our population was nearly wiped out and we guard against the time it could happen again. For this reason we are careful about who we bring into our world, Jim... who we reveal ourselves to." He kissed him. "You've been discussed," he said with a smile. "I've had my eye on you for a long time." Light laughter. "I was thinking of asking you to dinner sometime next week... outside of work." He kissed him again. "But you beat me to the punchline."
"Ba-Da-Bum," Brass quipped, rushing the joke past his trepidations. //I've been discussed? Careful? I guess they would have to be.// He scanned Gil's face, seeing a kind of patience he never saw in the Gil Grissom he worked with on a daily basis. Without understanding everything he understood the depth of trust he was being shown and wondered why they thought he deserved it. "What can I say?"
"Nothing." Grissom's lips descended to Brass' throat. "We'll work it all out," he muttered as he nuzzled Jim, inhaling deeply. "You smell good."
To his surprise Jim groaned as Grissom's thigh brushed his cock, rousing it from it's sated stupor. "I haven't done it this much since--" He cried out softly as teeth nipped his shoulder. "Oh god, Gil!"))
A sharp shrill startled Brass out of his memories. He glanced down at his cell phone. Gil's number. "Gris?"
"Are you coming?" Grissom greeted a bit impatiently. "I've been waiting out here about five minutes. Lizzie said she was making a luncheon and I'm starved."
Five minutes? Brass glanced in the mirror one more time, at the neat but casual clothes he wore, meeting his own gaze as he wondered just what the next few days would bring. "Coming," he said shortly as he walked out of his bedroom and grabbed his overnight bag as well as his wallet and shield. He opened his door and smiled as he saw Grissom's Tahoe gleaming in the sun. //Showtime,// He locked his front door and headed down the walk towards the waiting vehicle.
TBC...