Gone Awry 1/2 Gil/Nick
NOTE: This story is about 3 years old, I believe. It's not the first slash I've ever written but it is the first CSI slash and it was written about a month after I discovered this fandom. I got some things wrong... I wrote that he had five brothers and one sister when the opposite is true... shoot me. Also, of course, this was written BEFORE we knew the names of Nick's parents and any nicknames they may have given him.
So please read with this in mind...
Title: Gone Awry
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: FRAO (Adults Only)
Summary: Sometimes first steps are more a stumble and a fall
Spoiler: None. Not Episode Related.
Warning: Slash; Angst; Hints of Graphic Violence; Aftermath of Violence
Hope it is enjoy in spite of its age.
University Medical Center. ER. Grissom had been here hundreds of times. Assignments. As he approached the entrance he took in the organized chaos around him. It was Thursday night, not quite the same as the more active weekend but a good build up. Old and young. Accidents. Illness. Violence. Grissom paused as a child ran across his path follow by a young woman holding a toddler in her arms. The younger child was unusually quite, her arm splinted. Grissom met the child's eyes and smiled reassuringly. The child blinked at him then hid her head against the woman's neck, clearly shy. Mentally he wished her well and continued his journey.
There had been a beating in an isolated parking lot behind a popular bar. Two men were attacked. One was dead. He sent Warrick to handle the scene. The other man was not seriously hurt but in need of medical attention. He came to see the second victim, question him if possible. Gather evidence.
This case, he suspected as he approached the triage station, would hold his interest more than usual. Shane's Bar and Grill was popular among the gay community so it didn't take much to speculate on the reason behind the attack.
"Gil Grissom," he introduced as he met the eyes of the nurse behind the desk. The young man returned his gaze with mild interest. "Crime Lab." He held up his shield. "I'm here to see an attack victim you got from Shane's bar?"
Mild interest turned to full attention. "Come with me," he said as he moved down a small hallway. "We isolated him once we realized who he was. There's a detective with him."
Grissom frowned, confused. "Who is he?" //Let it not be a celebrity,// he prayed.
The nurse paused as they came to the end of a row of curtains in an area away from the main crowd of people. The faint sound of beeps reached Grissom's ears. "No one told you?"
"Told me what?" Anticipatory, he faced the ER nurse. "What's going on?"
"That's okay, Mr. Roberts," another very familiar voice spoke from behind the curtain. A moment later Captain Jim Brass emerged, his expression bleak. "Gil--" He paused, looking away then back. "Nick's in there."
Grissom moved before his brain fully understood the words. His hand pulled away the thick fabric. On the ER gurney laid the unconscious form of Nick Stokes, one of his investigators. //He was off tonight,// Grissom remembered as shock filtered through his body. //First time in awhile.// His eyes scanned the injured man, taking in the wrapped forearm, the blackened eyes, the bandaged head. An EKG monitor beside the bed showed good numbers. Fluid dripped from an IV bag on the other side into Nick's uninjured arm. //My god...//
"Mr. Grissom... come on... sit down."
Someone forced him to sit. Grissom blinked. The male nurse was bent in front of him, studying him closely. "You're in a little shock, Mr. Grissom," the young man said evenly. "Just relax. Nick is all right. He's got a mild concussion and a lacerated forearm along with some bruising. But that's all. He'll be all right."
All right. Grissom took a deep breath then another. All right. "I'm all right," he said as he saw a young woman in a physician's coat join the nurse. "I'm all right."
"I'm Dr. Maria Kensington," the physician introduced. Her dark eyes watched him speculatively. "I'm sorry you weren't told before you got here. We only just found out his identity about twenty minutes ago."
"Twenty minutes?" The call came in almost an hour ago. He looked at Brass. //How come they didn't know?//
"Nick was out of it by the time the ambo came. The EMTs just scraped him off the ground and loaded him in." Anger swarmed in his eyes. "The assholes took his wallet and the uniforms had to chase them down. You were on the way just as I was getting here and found out. The Press were already sniffing so I had him put back here." Brass patted Grissom on the shoulder. "I didn't want to distract you while you were driving."
"He's in a deep sleep right now," Dr. Kensington reported in a low voice. "I gave him something for the pain. I'm waiting for a bed upstairs then I'm going to admit him. I want him kept for observation tonight and tomorrow. If all's well, he can go home." She walked over to her patient and checked on the equipment that monitored his vitals. "Someone will in to check on him every half hour until there's a room." She looked to Grissom. "I understand he has no family here. Can you be here... or arrange for someone? After something like this it would be better if there was a familiar face."
"I'll stay," Grissom responded without hesitation. The doctor nodded with a friendly smile. Then she and the nurse left. //Should I call his parents?// he wondered as he watched Nick breathe. //His brothers and sister? Should I wait for Nick to wake up and decide?// Grissom slowly closed his eyes, ordering his mind to focus. There was something important he needed to do immediately. "Jim," he began as he stood and pulled out his cell phone. "I'm pulling my team from this one. We're too close." He pushed a single key to speed dial his call. "Conrad? This is Grissom. I've got a situation here..."
Steady noises. Murmured voices. Nick had dreamed about... something. But the memory was fading as his body began to ache. He lay on something firm. He shifted to make himself more comfortable and frowned when he couldn't. He tried to move his hands to rub his eyes. But one hand felt too heavy and the other was firmly held...
"Nicky, it's Grissom. You're in University Medical. You've been hurt."
Grissom? Nick fought to regain awareness, opening his eyes in spite of the pain that lanced through his eyelids from the too bright lighting around him. Grissom's blurred face was just inches from his, blue eyes bright with concern. Hurt? Nick assessed himself, feeling tightness and pounding aches. There was a fight. This guy had hit him, calling him a-- //Oh man... What the fuck did I do... What happened to--// He moved his mouth but there was a thick, nasty tasting film surrounding his tongue almost made him gag.
"Here, Nick. Drink slowly." The bed moved, raising Nick up into a sitting position with a low mechanical noise. He was in a hospital room. There were machines near him that beeped and hummed. His skin stung and pulsed where an IV and tubing was taped to the underside of his forearm. //How bad am I hurt?// His vision wavered but he was able to make out a short thin man standing off to the side, a familiar face in casual but conservative shirt and pants. Dark rimmed glasses graced his face. //George Donaldson... Ecklie's team... shit...// He let Grissom slip the straw in his mouth and he drank a few sips, grateful for the coolness of the ice water until it ran down and hit his stomach. "The guy," he rasped as he battled waves of nausea. "I think they beat him pretty bad."
Grissom withdrew the water then grasped Nick's hand once more, the older man's skin warm against his. "The other man is dead, Nick."
Dead? Flashes of memory wafted through him. He was on the ground, stunned, his head pounding. Two guys were spitting on him, yelling. Then the other guy-- "They killed him?"
"So far as we know," Grissom confirmed. His grip on Nick's hand tightened. "Ecklie's team is handling this. George needs to ask you a few questions. Can you do that?"
Nick closed his eyes again and sank against the pillows as the shock of Grissom's news washed through him, as he fully understood what kind of situation he had gotten himself into. //They know... goddammit they know! What an idiot I am! And that guy... I got him killed...//
"Nick?" Grissom's voice was quiet and steady. "You know he needs to do this. And the sooner you talk to him the better the details. Okay?"
Nick found himself nodding, wishing that he could just crawl up and die inside. //I can't believe it... Just once... the first time... I was just curious... just wanted to know... this isn't fair!//
"Nick, I'm sorry this happened." Donaldson's voice. Nick forced his head to move against the pillow in marginal acknowledgement. George wasn't a bad guy but not good with working outside the rules. "Do you know who the other man was?"
"Don't know," he responded, inwardly irritated at how weak his voice sounded.
"You... weren't... close?" The question was asked in careful tone.
"I had never seen him before." //They think he was my date... oh man.// A violent shiver ran down Nick's spine. "He tried to help," he managed, amazed how difficult it was to talk. His tongue refused to cooperate. His face felt as if it had been smashed against a wall. //Well almost... the cement ground...//
"Nick." Grissom. Nick sighed, grateful his boss was still holding his hand, holding back the grief and hysteria that threatened to rise. He got someone killed for doing something he didn't really do... something he shouldn't have been doing. Nick wondered if Grissom would continue to be so gracious once he knew the whole story. "What happened?" Grissom urged gently.
Nick worked his mouth. More water was offered and he took the barest of sips, just enough to moisten without irritating his stomach. "I... uh... was at the bar. I was talking to this guy. We-- hit it off." Nick waited for Grissom's hold on his hand to withdraw and was heartened when it did not. "We went out... to go to his place. But this other guy came... and the guy I was with..."
Hey Arnie! This fucking fag wanted to fucking fuck me! Can you believe it?
"We were in the back part of a parking lot... the one near Harris'. I know I should have known better... but..." Nick tried to focus on the facts. His mind was beginning to crowd with a crawling sensations and he knew he had to concentrate hard if he was going to be any help. "The guy I was with... he said his name was Carson. He had something in his jacket. He hit me before I knew what was going on." Nick tightened his hold on Grissom's hand, needing the Human contact to continue. "I tried to fight back... but I fell... caught my arm on something..." They kicked and spit on him. Carson raised his weapon again. "It was a pipe I think," he said vaguely. "I tried to get up then this guy came. He was yelling at them... told them to get away..." Nick shuttered.
Christ, Carson! Another homo! Get him!
"He tried to help me... but they went after him... Carson hit him with the pipe again and again... I couldn't do anything." //I got him killed.// "I heard someone scream... then sirens I think... the two guys were yelling at each other. Then-- I don't remember."
"It's all right, Nick." Grissom voice was unusually gentle... calming. His one hand held Nick's possessively while his other hand petted over the top of Nick's head. "It's all right. You did what you could, Nicky. It wasn't your fault." Pause. "That enough, George?"
"Uh... yeah. Maybe more later... when he's ready." George's voice was professional but something in it held a note of disgust. //At me probably. One of their own is a fag. But I'm not... I didn't even...// "Nick, I mean it. I'm sorry this happened. I'll share what you said with Brass so we won't have to ask you again. And Nick... we got the bastards who did this and we're going to do everything we can to make sure they don't do it to anyone else ever again. Okay?"
Surprised, Nick's eyes drifted open. Donaldson's blurry face stared down at him with a vaguely angry expression on it. //He's upset at them. He doesn't care that I'm... that I might be...// The understanding stressed his injured brain. Nick felt his awareness slip away, his heavy eyelids closed again.
"I think we're losing him for the moment," he heard Grissom say in the air around him. "Nicky... Listen to me. I'm going to be right here and if I'm not one of our team will be... they're all doing assignments now but they're all concerned about you. I promise you won't be alone. It's going to be all right..."
"Arnie Tipper and Carson Winters were denied bond today at District Court. The two were arrested almost a week ago for the slaying of businessman, Tomas Alvez, and the brutal beating of another man whose identity had not been released but is reported to be a part of the Las Vegas Police Department. At first the motive was thought to be gay-bashing as the two men were found behind a popular gay bar, Shane's, in downtown Las Vegas. Now it seems it may be a case of mistaken identity, at least as far as Tomas Alvez was concerned. Reports indicate the forty year old executive, happily married and father of three, was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, trying to stop the savage beating of the other man..."
Nick listened. His stomach twisted as the cable news station pinned up Alvez's picture, a family portrait showing his wife, an infant, and two young boys, all smiling, all representative of the "traditional" family conservative groups wanted everyone to be. Nick had managed to make himself a sandwich but the food was left untouched, long forgotten. The cable news stations were all covering it, focusing on the hate crime angle, on the "hero saving a victim from an apparent hate crime."
//Apparent.// Nick shifted as his side began to ache. He had been kicked in the stomach and the side, causing deep bruising that throbbed painfully every time he moved or sat in once place too long. During the past few days he had tried to relax, tried to heal. When he was released from the hospital yesterday afternoon, Warrick and Grissom were there, bundling him into Grissom's Tahoe before the Press, camped out in another part of the hospital, caught wind. Grissom told him then that he wasn't being taken home. When the Press found out they would be there. But there was a condo unit that Warrick's friend owned that was usually rented out on a time-share basis. Warrick said his friend would let them have it for as long as they needed it. The unit was well maintained and well furnished with two bedrooms, two full baths, a large living area, a breakfast bar and a kitchenette. Expensively cozy and secure. Safe from the Press or anyone else Nick didn't want to see.
And every evening Grissom was with him, taking over the second bedroom on the other side of the unit, lending a physical presence Nick found comforting and unnerving. Gil had changed his schedule, working five to six hours during the day, taking care of administrative duties, working with the Sheriff in dealing with possible Press fallout. During that time Catherine, Sara, Warrick, Greg or any number of CSI team members would show up, bearing gifts, gossip, or competition in a video game. Nick forced himself to be social, to put up the best face possible. And they helped. Their care helped. But it also left a knot in his soul, feeding his guilt. It was his own stupid actions that got an innocent man killed over something that was a lie... might be a lie...
Nick heard the anchor's tone change, introducing a new piece. The crime scene where he had been attacked had quickly become stock footage for the story. They were calling in "experts" to go "in depth" in order for the public to learn the story behind the story. Civil Rights. Gay bashing. LVPD's policy on employing openly gay men. Nick winced, terrified and fascinated. Never in his life had he ever imaged being a part of one of "those stories". But there it was. He was a victim... recalling every blow... every word... the cries of the man who tried to help...
"Fuck!" He aimed the remote and turned off the television, trembling and sick. //Fucking vultures! What do they know! They don't even know who I am!//
//But they will... probably know now. Now that the two clowns have been arraigned Grissom told you they wouldn't be able to stop your name from becoming public knowledge.// In a surge of frustration Nick threw the remote across the room, satisfied as he heard the satisfying sound of shattering plastic when the device hit the opposite wall. //You know what, Nicky? You've really screwed up your life, old son. All for what?// Nick wiped at his eyes, angered by his total lack of control as tears welled up. //Because you wanted to see what it would be like to be with a guy... to be with--//
Nick heard his cell phone ring. "Grissom," he hissed out loud as he grabbed the phone. The older man had been good to him, putting up with a lot since his attack. Nick wondered if he could ever tell him the truth... "Hey," he said in a friendly voice.
"Well hi there," came a completely unfamiliar voice. "This is Kelly Anderson calling from Fox Station, KLVT. I'm the producer for the News at Five. We were wondering if we could get a statement from you about your brutal attack and Mr. Alvez's death..."
//What?// Suddenly cold and shaking, Nick pulled the phone away and stared at it, noting the unfamiliar phone number on the Caller ID display. //Fox Station? Television? Oh fuck!//
He could hear the woman calling his name and switched off the phone. But almost immediately it rang again. Another unfamiliar number. //They found me!// Panic rose within his gut as he looked around. //They know who I am!// The phone went silent then rang again. "Fuck you!" he yelled at the phone then threw it, watching with only mild alarm as it smashed through the glass door on a hutch next to the kitchen, further smashing through the ornate gravy boat inside.
Then the cordless phone in the condo rang. Enraged Nick picked it up. "What the fuck do you want?"
"Nicky? It's Grissom."
//Oh Christ...// Nick sniffed, tears blurred his vision and burned down his cheeks. The adrenaline flow was leaving him, his mind and body shifting sharply downward. "I'm sorry, Gris--"
"It's all right, Nick." Grissom's voice was calm and steady, much as it had been since he woke up in University's hospital room. "Brian warned me. He said he got a call from some news station asking to confirm your identity. I'm on my way to you, Nicky. I'm about two blocks away. They told me I could use the VIP entrance. Listen to me carefully, Nick. No one can get to you without going through security. Okay?"
"Okay."
"I have to hang up so I can drive. But I'll be right there."
"Okay." Nick heard a click at the other end and his world fell apart. He didn't bother to control the tears flowing out of his eyes, would be a waste of time. //This is stupid! I should be able to handle this!// He put the phone back in the charger, noting how shaky his hands were. His entire body felt as if he had been beaten up again. //I'm such a wimp!// He glanced at the hutch, suddenly sorry for the damage. //Damn! I was a cop, an EMT! I've dragged bodies out of shootouts. What's wrong with me!//
Fighting for calm he found a pan and brush under the sink and moved as much as his body would allow to clean up the glass from the floor. "Man," he said aloud to himself. "Wonder how much this costs." He hoped not too much. He hoped it wasn't a heirloom. "I can't believe I lost control like that!"
He cleaned what he could and rescued his cell phone. It was damaged but he separated the battery from the main unit anyway. No more calls there. He stepped into the kitchen and threw cold water over his face then sat down on the couch, staring at the blank screen of the big screen television. He had destroyed the remote, dented the wall. Of course the television could be turned on manually, the channel changed through the descrambler box. But it was just too much effort. There was nothing to see, except his name in lights. His parents would know now. He should call them... tell them...
Fag for a son...
Nick tensed as the door opened behind him. Instinct told him it was Grissom. And if it wasn't... he decided didn't care.
"Are you all right?"
All right? Nick twisted his head up. Grissom stood just inside the door. A grocery bag hung from his hand. His blue eyes were fixed on Nick as a frown wrinkled his brow. "Yeah... I'm great!"
Grissom lowered the grocery bag and came over to sit by Nick. His hand gently raised Nick's face while his other hand assessed the small bandage on his head. The touch was professional but somehow also personal. Nick alternately yearned to lean into Grissom's hand while a saner part of his psyche kept that urge in check. "I'm sorry you got a call before I could get to you," he said quietly. He pulled back and met Nick's gaze. "I won't be going back into work until this is done."
//Grissom taking time off? For me?// Guilt assaulted Nick. He shook his head. "I can take care of myself. I mean... I appreciate everything you... and everyone else has done. But I don't want to interfere--"
Grissom's hand covered his mouth. "Shut up, Nick. Okay?" He looked around as he got up, taking the untouched plate of food off the coffee table. His eyes roamed, resting on the hutch then the remains of the remote on the floor. He assessed Nick calmly. "I see you didn't get a chance to eat. I was going to make a few sandwiches. Do you think you could eat now?"
Nick laid his head back on the sofa, drained. "No... not hungry." Stokes heard Grissom move around. The bag was picked up then footsteps into the kitchen. "What time is it?" he asked. That was his biggest problem since the attack. His usual ability to internally sense the time of day had completely disappeared.
"Nearly eleven-thirty." Grissom continued to move around, opening doors, drawers, bags. Nick caught the faint scent of deli meats and involuntarily took a deep breath. His stomach suddenly came alive, making muted demands.
"Can I change my mind... on the sandwich?" he ventured.
"Of course."
Silence. Nick wanted to sleep... wanted to scream... wanted to do more damage. //And what good would that do?// "Sorry about... the remote," he said finally, deciding he hated the silence.
"I'll ask the next person coming up to bring a Universal remote." Grissom walked in with sandwiches on a plate and two bottles, one of soda and one of beer. "You can have a sip of mine but no more," Grissom offered, holding the beer out to him. "Not until you're off the meds."
Nick frowned. He was getting tired of soda but it was better than milk. He took the bottle and threw back a large 'sip' then held out the bottle. "Thanks."
Grissom seem to hesitate, blue eyes watching Nick a moment before flicking away. "You're welcome," he said distractedly as he put the food down on the coffee table along with Nick's soda bottle as he sat down. For a moment he studied the bottle he held then drank from it.
Nick watched, confused. //What's the big deal?// But his body reacted, tightening slightly as he realized his mouth had just been there... //Oh man, stop it!// He turned his attention to the food, a ham sandwich with lettuce and tomato, and let another hunger take control. He glanced back at the man sitting next to him. Grissom was reaching for a sandwich as well, his expression completely normal.
"Anything wrong?" Grissom asked as he noted Nick's gaze.
"No!" Nick glanced away and bit into his sandwich. //See? Your imagination! Now that you think you're gay, you think everyone else is too. Well you're not and neither is Grissom.//
They ate in friendly silence. At some point Grissom walked over to the television and turned it on, making no comment as the first thing that came on was a news story about the "gay bashing incident in Las Vegas". He changed stations, finally settling on the Discovery Channel. The view looked like a deep jungle with a diversity of life echoing from within. There was the steady voice of a narrator talking about life cycles of some rare butterfly.
"Do you mind?" Grissom asked as he came back to sit next to Nick.
"No. Whatever you want." Nick laid his head back again. Food had been a good idea. He felt more in control, though more intense aches and pains were starting to report in. His pain medication was beginning to wear off. Nick lifted his head and eyed the prescription bottle on the table. He was supposed to take them every four to five hours. It had been six since his last dose but he didn't like to take drugs. He could wait.
"I need to tell you something, Nick." Grissom voice was lower, firmer. Nick's eyes wandered open. "Your parents are coming in tomorrow morning," Gil stated evenly. "I'm going to pick them up from the airport."
Parents. Nick quickly sat up, shock and adrenaline fighting off any discomfort the moves caused. //I didn't call them yet. How could they be coming?// His heart pounded as he understood. "Man, they saw the news!" //And I didn't call them...//
"You know the news went national this morning, Nicky. They saw the report." Grissom's eyes were watchful, his tone lightly chided. "They called about two hours ago. Your name hadn't been mentioned yet but your mother said she had a feeling. They tried to call you at home then work. I took the call and talked to them. They are very concerned, Nicky."
//Oh god.// Nick shot off the couch, needing space, suddenly ashamed. //I didn't call them! I should have! What could I have said?// He combed his hands through his hair, wincing as his bandaged arm protested the movement. //They know... Fag for a son... but I'm not... Jesus, I'm in a hole. How do I get out?//
"Nicky, calm down. It's all right--"
"Dammit! It's not all right!" Nick faced his supervisor to vent his anger and frustration. "I didn't want them to know!"
"But they already did, Nick," Grissom reasoned. "And they were very upset. But Nick, they understood. They're not angry. They wanted to come tonight but I said I wanted to talk to you first. They're taking an early morning flight out of Dallas/Fort Worth."
//They're coming.// Nick put a hand on the wall beside him to keep steady. //They're coming. Okay... You need them and they're coming.// He shook his head and wiped the stray tears from his eyes. "Man, I've really fucked up my life!"
"Because you're gay?" Grissom cocked his head as he studied Nick. "Or because other people know?"
"I'm not gay!" Agitated, Nick started pacing again. "I'm not!" he said again as if repeating it would make it the truth.
Grissom's face took on that focused, speculative expression. Then his posture relaxed. "You're not attracted to men?"
Nick swallowed the automatic response. Grissom would know he was lying. "I-- like women. I mean I *really* like women." There... that was the truth.
"You can like women, Nick." Grissom sounded amused. "Some people would call that being bi."
Bi? Stokes grimaced. His side was beginning to feel like a wild animal had gotten a hold of him. All his pacing and moving around had irritated his bruises. And his head... "I don't know, Gil. But I didn't mean to be at Shane's that night. I just..." //Idiot! Don't confess! Not to him!// "I don't know."
Grissom nodded at the response and pick up the small medicine bottle from the table. "Looks a bit full," he said lightly. "I think you need to take some more." He opened the pill bottle and shook out a pill. He jerked his chin towards the couch. "Come on, Nick. You can use the rest. I have some paperwork I have to finish."
Bird sounds came from the television and a different voice was introducing something about Whooping Cranes in the United States. Nick's eyes flicked to the clock on the stove in the kitchen. Just after noon. He walked back to the couch feeling deflated and somewhat contrite. He started to sit down when Grissom stopped him with a hand on his leg.
"Wait a sec. You need to be more comfortable." Grissom grabbed the two pillows Nick had used to support his back and threw them to the other end of the couch. "Lie down, Nicky," he ordered.
Nick nodded. The pain was getting sharper. His head pounded louder than his thoughts. Grissom got up as Nick lay down. A thin blanket was put over him. "Here." Grissom held out his hand. Nick took the pill. "Here." Grissom offered him the half full soda bottle. Nick took the pill and drank it down then closed his eyes and waited for the drug to take effect.
A cell phone ring made him jerk. His nerves sparked. //Not again! I thought I broke it--//
"Grissom." Gil had his own cell phone out. He raised a calming hand towards Nick as he listened intently. "Anthony? I'm Gil Grissom, Nick's supervisor with CSI."
//Anthony?// Nick nearly sobbed as he wished for instant death. Tony... his brother. His oldest brother.
"No, he's here." Gil looked Nick over. "He's nearly asleep. Did you want to talk to him?"
//No! No!// Nick's heart pounded against his rib cage as panic ripped through him. Sixteen years older, Tony was like a second father to him. Presently Anthony Taylor Stokes was a Sheriff in the middle of a small Texas city with a wife and five kids. Normal. He couldn't--
"He's doing fine," Grissom's voice continued. "They're being held without bond. I hope not." Pause. "Yes... I will." Grissom laughed a little. "I'll tell him. Nice meeting you too."
Nick heard Grissom hang up his phone. //What did he say?// he asked silently, wondering if he wanted to know. Tony's little brother was a--
"Your brother said he heard from your parents this morning," Grissom began. Nick felt his legs moved and shifted then his feet were lifted then comfortably settled on a slightly higher, softer, warmer surface. Nick raised his head. His legs were on Grissom's lap. Grissom's hands covered his sweat pant covered calves and his sock covered feet.
"Okay?" Gil asked, his expression neutral.
Nick didn't have the energy to blush. The medication was starting to work. "That's fine," he said, putting his head back. "Tony's my oldest brother." He smiled as he realized. "He's only a year older than you."
"Is he?" Grissom's hands were still but their warmth invaded Nick's body, calming him. "He wanted to make sure you were all right. He said your parents called everyone in the family."
"Damn!" //They all know!// Nick made motions to get up, needing to--
"Nick, stay still." Grissom's hands gripped his thigh and ankle, holding him in place. "Your parents wanted to be sure everyone they can think of knows that 'no comment' is the only acceptable statement any of them can make to the Press." He lightly rubbed Nick's leg in a comforting gesture. "They want to protect you."
"The Press knows about them?" //Shit! I've gotten myself in a hole and I've taken them down with me...//
"Reporters are resourceful, " Grissom said lightly, tiredly. "Your father is a State Supreme Court judge. Your mother is a well-known defense attorney. So they didn't have to research too deeply to find them."
Nick threw his arms over his face, ignoring the pain in his left arm, the one with the stitches. "Gris... is this the part where I wake up and thank God it was all a dream?"
Grissom's light touch became a gentle massage. "This is going to work out, Nick. Everyone who counts is supporting you."
"Dammit, Gil! I didn't do anything!" Tears escaped his eyes, rolling over his cheeks, falling lightly into his ears. The medication was eroding his control. "I mean... we didn't do anything! And I didn't do anything before..."
Grissom's hands stilled. "You never-- Nick, you've never been with a man?"
"No!" Nick tried to get up again but Grissom's strong grip stopped him. Defeated, Nick again cocooned his face in his arms, hiding behind the darkness as the dam burst within his heart. "I--I just wanted to know! I wanted to see! I wasn't thinking..."
"Shhh..." Grissom's hand lightly gripped his uninjured arm. "Nick, look at me."
"I can't!" Nick sobbed, ashamed and fearful. //If I look at him I'm going to spill the rest of it and what little I have of him right now will be gone.// "Gris, I'm sor--"
"Don't apologize!" Grissom's tone was sharp, even angry. "Nick, look at me!"
Nick gave in. He lowered his arms. Grissom was leaning sideways towards him, holding out his handkerchief. His eyes were intent, meeting Nick's, a snake seeking its prey. "Gris--"
"Take this." Grissom waved the handkerchief. Shyly Nick took it, gingerly using it. His face felt raw now. His eyes hurt. "Now listen to me carefully, Nick," Gil began in that gentle, steady voice that had become common to his ears. "You didn't do anything wrong... though I wish you had taken more care. You've been a police officer and an EMT... now a criminologist. You should have known better." His fingers briefly brushed Nick's hand, taking the sting from his words, offering comfort. "Nick, is this the first time you were interested in men?"
//Lord no!// Nick sighed, exhaustion spreading through his body. His emotional outburst had aided the effects of the medication he had taken. "I... looked... but never..." Nick growled in frustration as he fought to find the right words to say rather than say what he really wanted to. "I just wanted to know..."
"What changed to make you... want to know?" Grissom's body had shifted, pulling back to sit normally, his hands again resting around Nick's foot.
//Oh man! Not going to answer that one!// Nick felt a final wave of stillness settle within him. He was falling asleep and was more than happy to do so. Grissom's hands moved, rubbing his foot, his ankle. Asking nothing else of him as he drifted off.
Grissom began to relax as he saw Nick drift off to sleep. He stared at the television screen but stopped paying attention. Even bugs didn't interest him at the moment. Nothing mattered beyond the man whose feet he held and the puzzle he was slowly beginning to resolve.
I'm not gay!
A smile crept across his lips as he remembered the denial. //Of course not, Nicky. You went to a gay bar and admitted that you "hit it off" with another man because you aren't interested?// Grissom let out a near silent snort. Classic denial. His gazed fixed on Nick's face, on the minor cuts and bruises. His mood quickly swung in the opposite direction. //God Nicky, what were you doing?// Grissom bowed his head as fatigue warred with anxious realization. //You could have been killed! And I never would have known...//
//Known what? That he was gay? Bi? Meaning what... that he would be available? Interested... in you?// Grissom sighed, quickly putting aside his fantastic thoughts. //He's a young man... unsure... confused... and hurt. He's looking to me for support.// Grissom lifted his head to study his contact with Stokes, his hands moving casually over Nick's legs. If he were a woman friend no one would question them sitting together like this, wouldn't necessarily give it sexual connotations. But he was a man... and the one he comforted was a man. People had a tendency to make all kinds of assumptions. //And in this case... in my case... they would be close to the truth.// Grissom dared a stray caress over Nick's abdomen and crouch. //But nothing will come of it. And I would never presume.//
Grissom laid his head back. Nick's parents were coming tomorrow. They sounded anxious, even a bit hurt that it had been him and not their son who told them. But they quickly rallied, quickly forgave. And Nick's brother had made it clear that if his little brother's attackers ever got bond he was to be called immediately. Grissom didn't dare ask what Tony would do with the information as he put Nick's brother's number on his speed dial. Just in case.
Nick moved, turning in his sleep, away from his injured side. Grissom gently braced Nick's legs, helping him find a more comfortable position without waking up or falling off the couch. In the end he wound up holding Stokes' thighs against his stomach. Uncomfortable but welcomed opportunity. He stared at the television screen. The life of squirrels in North America. Charming. Noise. And he didn't want to disturb Nick to get up and turn it off. So he ignored it. //Think I'll take a nap instead.// He shifted carefully and relaxed, closing his eyes, letting his fantasies out to play as his fingers move minutely over the tiny patch of expose skin between edge of Nick's shirt-- displaced when the younger man had moved-- and the waistband of his pants.
Nick Stokes tried not to obsess the whole morning while Grissom was gone to pick up his parents. But his visitor was no help in that area. The personal assistant to the Assistant District Attorney was in the living room of his borrowed home. She had come just as Grissom was leaving, asking questions he didn't want to hear.
"Nick, I need you to focus."
Stokes blinked. Angela Brookes was a good-looking woman in her forties, professional but personable. She accepted his coffee and got right to work, asking questions, listening as Nick spoke. It was the first step before an official statement, a picking of his brain before he actually met with the ADA to go the next step in building and presenting the prosecution case. She began by asking him the same questions as the police. Where was he? Why was he there? What did he say? What did the other guy say? Did the other guy make his intentions clear? Did he... force himself on the other guy? Provoke him?
//Was it my fault?//
"Nick?"
"What!" Stokes was pacing across the apartment. Overall he felt better. His head felt less like a punching bag. His bruises were beginning to turn brilliant colors. His side hurt but he didn't like to take pills so ignored the discomfort, though it was hard as Brookes continued her questions, making him relive his attack in detail, making him analyze his motives... their motives...
"Nick... I know this is difficult--"
"You don't know shit!" He began pacing at warp speed. "I don't want to talk about it anymore! Okay?" He knew he shouldn't be yelling, shouldn't be cursing at this woman. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't anyone's fault... except maybe his. //That Alvez guy would be alive and his two little boys would have their father--//
"Hey Nick."
Stokes jumped. //Shit!// Grissom was back. Nick swung around. Brookes was closing her case, gathering her coat. She studied him with some annoyance mixed with concern. Then she gave him a small smile and turned her head towards Grissom who stood just inside the condo accompanied by two others. //Grissom... and--// The paralegal smiled and shook hands with the new arrivals then left. As the door closed Nick felt an overwhelming urge to bolt, to follow her out, speed past her... run away to-- He focused on Grissom, frustrated and frightened.
"You all right, son?"
Dad. Nick could feel the tears welling up. His parents eyes were fastened on him, watching, concerned. Nick forced himself to gather his sanity, to put on a casual face, to greet them like always. //Hey guys! Have a good trip? Glad to see you...// Then courage left him completely as he turned away. He couldn't face them. He was so ashamed...
A hand touched his arm, turning him. He looked and found himself caught in his mother's eyes. She wasn't much shorter than he was, tall for a woman in her generation. Her gaze moved over him as if taking inventory, her fingers touched the bandage on his forehead, the bruises around his eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Nicky," she said finally. She put her hands on his shoulders then pulled him against her. Nick squeezed his eyes shut as he returned the hug, determined not to give in but losing the battle a moment later as a sob escaped him as he broke down and openly wept.
"We're here now, Nicky," his mother cooed as she rocked him awkwardly. Her embrace grew tight, possessive and protective. "Your father and I are here to help."
"He's recovering though there have been ups and downs... as you saw."
Nick toweled himself dry and took off the light plastic wrapping from where it had been protecting the stitches on his forearm. His ears were on alert, straining to capture the quiet voices in conversation in the living room. After his tears ended the skin on his face felt as if it were on fire. His body ached and spasmed. His mother ordered him to take a cool shower. And it helped. Though the aches remained his face felt less irritated, his eyes less blood-shot.
"I wish he had called us." Nick winced. He and his father had always talked, always shared. //I should have called him.// He grabbed a clean pair of sweat pants and put them on. //And told him what?// He grabbed his shirt, grunting as he put it on. It still hurt but it was better. //Hi Dad. Just to let you guys know I got the shit beaten out of me by some freaks who don't like homosexuals. What? Yeah... no... Dad... I'm not... I didn't--//
There was a polite knock then Grissom's head slipped in before this body followed as blue eyes took in Nick's state of dress. Grissom himself wore jeans, t-shirt and well-worn shoes. Casual. Open. Attentive. Nick wondered for the thousandth time why his boss was taking the trouble, unconsciously torturing him with his presence. "I'm almost done." He sat down on the bed to put on his socks. These and the sweat pants and shirt were all that he'd been wearing since coming home from the hospital. Part of him wondered if he would ever get used to wearing regular work clothes again.
"I have to go out," Grissom said shortly. "Get some supplies. Let you have some time with your--"
"Don't go." Nick swallowed, silently cursing his mouth and his brain as they reacted faster than his ability to control them. He looked down at his bare foot, contemplating putting on his other sock as shame flushed through him. //Where the fuck did that come from?//
He heard the bedroom door quietly close then saw a shadow fall across the floor. "Nicky, they love you. They want to make sure you're all right." The bed dipped. Grissom's body brushed his as the older man sat down next to him. "Nick, what are you afraid of?"
Nick forgot about his other sock and stood up to separate himself from Grissom's proximity. "I'm not afraid of anything!" he defended.
"That's why you're standing in front of me acting like a caged animal? Why you're not comfortable seeing your parents alone?"
Suddenly angry Nick faced him, his raw nerves screaming from his attempts keep himself and others in line. "Don't analyze me! I'm not a suspect!" Grissom flinched and Nick immediately regretted his words. His ran his hands through his hair and over his face, wishing for the gift of invisibility. "I'm sorry, Gil!" he cried out. "I'm sorry!" He waited, knowing the man who had been nothing less than his lifeline and support over the past several days was about to get up and leave, hurt. That Nick Stokes, idiot-at-large, had crossed the line.
Grissom got up but instead of moving to the door he moved towards Nick. Nick wanted to back away but held his ground. Gil smiled a little as he stopped. His hand came up, almost brushing Nick's cheek before laying on his shoulder. "I'm going out for awhile, Nicky. I'm going to get something to cook for you and your parents tonight and take care of some calls I need to make. I should be back by three or so." His fingers on Nick's shoulder tightened. "Your parents love you. They want to talk to you." He smiled. "And I'm okay, Nick. I wasn't offended. Okay?"
Okay. Nick was breathing hard though he couldn't tell now if it was from high anxiety or Grissom's touch. //God I want him...// His heart slammed into his throat as he saw Grissom's expression change, his brow wrinkle. His hand moved from Nick's shoulder and hovered above his face before dropping away. Nick sighed, not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed. //What's going on?//
"I'll see you later," Grissom said evenly. His expression and posture showed nothing more than friendly concern, normal. As if nothing had happened. He opened the bedroom door and walked out. Nick could see his parents standing up, his father shaking hands with Grissom, small words exchanged. Then Grissom was gone and his parents, Berle and Janet Stokes, looked back towards him with focused concerned.
And Nick realized that he was just staring at them, barely dressed, a sock in his hand, the other on his foot. With a sigh he went to the bed and sat down, quickly pulling on the remaining sock then got up and went into the living room. His father was sitting, reading the newspaper. His mother was in the kitchen, washing whatever had been left in the sink. //Just like they were home.// "Mom, I can do that--"
"I'm nearly done, Nick. I can make some coffee. Why don't you go sit with your father?"
Nick heard the firm tone in her voice. He heard paper shift and saw his father putting aside his reading and look at him expectantly. //Oh shit... they're going to "talk" to me.//
"Come on, son," his father encouraged.
//Don't I get a final meal?// Nick obeyed, easing his aching body onto the sofa, sitting as far away from his father as he thought he could get away with. His father frowned.
"Nicky, we're not angry with you," his father said quietly, almost defensively.
"I'm sorry." Nick tried to relax. His mother came from the kitchenette carrying a glass of water.
"Gil told us you probably haven't taken your medicine." She put the glass on a coaster in front of Nick then held out her hand. A small pill sat in the middle of her palm, waiting. "Knowing you he's probably right."
Nick's eyes shifted from one parent to the other then he sighed and took the pill and drank the water. His mother smiled then moved back to sit down in a chair next to the sofa. For a moment there was complete silence then his mother cleared her throat.
"Nick, why didn't you call us? Tell us? We had to hear about you on the national news." Her words were laced with hurt.
Nick bowed his head. "I--I don't know." Lie.
"Yes you do, Nicky," his mother insisted. "And we understand. But it hurt nevertheless."
//Oh man.// Nick squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the men who had attacked him had finished the job. He so did not want to be here.
"Son." His father. "How long have you... liked other men?"
Nick glanced up, shocked. //They're asking about my sex life... this is not going well at all.// "I don't know." Truth.
His father looked at his mother with that kind of silent communication children always hated. "Nick," his mother took over, her voice far less hesitant. "Your father and I want to make some things very clear to you so you understand how we feel about you and what's happened. Then you can tell us anything you don't think we understand. Clear?"
His mother sounded like she was in her "lawyer" mode, making a summation. When he was a kid this was never a good sign but, like an execution at the end of an appeals process, there was no escaping it. Nick nodded.
"First, you are our son, Nicholas Stokes. Our youngest child and one of our seven joys. When we saw the news report I knew it was you. Knew some people who had no business touching you had hurt you badly because they didn't like who you were." Her expression turned anxious. "Second. Your father and I love you no matter what. No matter who you are or who you love. I'm just sorry you felt uncomfortable telling us." She met his eyes. "Did you think we'd... reject you? That your brothers and sister would? They were very upset and angry when they heard... upset at you and angry with the bastards who did this to you. They all wanted to call you yesterday but I told them to wait until tonight. And I warned them to be patient with you."
Nick shifted uncomfortably as he took in what his parents were telling him. All his fears and assumptions had been way off base... why had he ever doubted them? //Because you're a coward, Nicky. If you said nothing, you never needed to know how they felt... and you could keep lying to yourself about what you really want.// "I don't know what to tell you," he said finally after long thought. "I've never... done anything... until... this Friday. I mean... I've always felt... something but I like women too." //Damn... I'm such a shit. Lie to my parents... my family. Get a guy killed--//
"What changed, son?"
His father's question was asked in the same way Grissom had asked last night. Only he wasn't falling asleep. He was wide-awake, in spite of the pain pill he just took. Nick stared at his father then shrugged, deciding on some honesty. "I met... someone. Only he doesn't know. And I don't know if he would be interested in me... that way. I didn't want to try without knowing how--" Knowing he was turning a pure shade of red, Nick covered his face in his hands. "Do you really want me to finish the answer?"
"Um... no..." both his parents said in unison, finally setting the limits. "Do we know him?" his mother asked, changing the focus of the discussion.
//Yes.// Still hiding his face, Nick shrugged. "Sort of."
"And you can't tell him?"
Nick groaned. "It could cause a problem... at work."
Silence answered his revelation. He ventured a glance at his parents. His father gazed at him kindly, patting him on the leg when their eyes met. His mother had an expression on her face that he recognized as deep thought. //Oh man... not good...// "Mom?"
His mother seemed to start. Her expression turned outward, regarding him with a smile. "Oh... I'm sorry, Nicky." She got up walked to the side of the couch. A moment later Nick found himself pulled against his mother as she embraced him where he sat. "Don't ever doubt us again, little man," she said, using a term of endearment she had used when he was a child. She kissed the top of his head and drew back, her eyes boring into his, her expression as serious as he had ever seen it. "You are a grown man, Nick. And none of us would dare tell you how you should behave or what you should do. But if you should ever pull a stunt like you did the other night again I'll have Tony kick your butt," she finished in her finest Texan accent. "And I know the rest of us would be holding you down while he does it. Got it?"
Nick felt gentle tears flow over his face as he smiled. "Thanks, mom," he said lightly, realizing everything was all right... as far as his family went. He looked at his father whose eyes also shown a bit. Then his eyes drifted to the door, to the two small bags there. "Hey, I'm sorry. Gil said he got the other room ready for you guys." He stood up then sat down, suddenly dizzy. The pain pill had kicked in. And now that his adrenaline surge was easing, he could feel himself starting to decline.
"Take a nap," his mother ordered. "Your father and I will make ourselves at home." Pause. "We're only going to be here until tomorrow afternoon," she said apologetically. "I could only get a forty-eight hour continuance on a motions hearing I have to attend."
"And I have to be present for an appeals hearing for a death penalty case." Nick's father stood. At just over seventy he was taller than Nick, narrower in frame. "Come on, son," he encouraged as he gently pulled on Nick's arm to get him to stand. For a moment the years peeled away and Nick let himself feel like the boy he had been, enjoying the care as his father guided him into the bedroom.
"I'll wake you up in an hour or so," his mother said. "Gil told me he left some lunch meat in the refrigerator. I'll make us something."
"Okay." Nick let himself be guided into his bedroom and put to bed. As he sighed in preparation to sleep he heard his parents quietly speaking to each other, making comments on the broken glass in the hutch, the pieces of the remote. Then he thought he heard Grissom's name mentioned several times and wondered if they had already figured it out...
It was surreal. Not in a bad way but not in a way that Nick could fully make sense of. Grissom came home by three and made the best chili Nick had ever had, though he wouldn't admit that to his mother. They talked about this and that. His sister Margaret's new baby, Nicole. His nephew's interest in law enforcement. It was as if they had dropped by for a quick visit, nothing out of the ordinary. Nick found himself smiling and laughing in all the right places but it all felt made-up, pretended but oddly good because Grissom was next to him, meeting his eyes every so often, casting a reassuring glance, even a conspiratorial wink when his parents said something revealing about Nick that Stokes himself would never thought of sharing with Grissom.
And in the midst of this were questions that left Nick wondering. Where was Grissom from? How long had he been a criminologist? What were his interests? Did he have family? Siblings? Pets? Nick wanted to stop them several times, knowing how private Grissom was, how he didn't like to reveal too much about himself. But tonight Grissom was more open than Nick could ever remember, answering their questions, though not in detail. It was a friendly exchange intermingled with normal family talk. It was comforting and odd. But Nick tried to focus on the comfort, the back of his mind tracking the fact that his parents would be gone tomorrow and he would be missing their physical presence while he dealt with this... all of this.
Towards the end of the meal there was a phone call. The ADA told them that the two attackers had agreed to plea guilty to the charges. The two had felt overwhelming guilt over the killing of a straight man with children yet still justified in their attack on Nick. However, it was an all or nothing deal. Life in prison for the charge of murder and attempted murder. With Nick's attack classified as a hate crime there would be no possibility of parole. It was all but signed and sealed. There would be no trial. Nick would not have to testify. It was over just like that as far as the justice system was concerned.
In reaction Nick's eyes filled with tears. His mother hugged him, assuring him everything would be all right now. His father hovered, his presence a comfort. And Grissom stayed seated next to him. At some point Grissom's hand was on his arm, offering a gentle squeeze. It was a simple gesture but one that helped Nick more than Grissom probably realized.
The conversation continued. His other brothers called. His sister called. Tony called back. All genuinely relieved to talk to him, all expressing their love, their anger and what happened. It was energizing, comforting and overwhelming. By nine o'clock his eyes were weighing down and his body ached, though not nearly as bad as it had been.
"Bed, Nicky."
Nick blinked. He was sitting on the couch, his body feeling like a puddle from exhaustion. Grissom stood above him, his hand held out, his eyes twinkling. "It's not a school night," he protested with a fake whine.
Grissom's lips twitched. "Come on."
Nick smiled and took his friend's hand, grunting painfully as Gil helped him to stand. He saw his father watching him, watching Grissom, a faint expression on his face Nick couldn't place but made him blush all the same. He carefully let go of Grissom and took a step aside. "Good night, Dad," he said, determined not to ruin the evening by getting anxious.
"Goodnight, son," Berle Stokes said calmly as he raised his newspaper up and began to read once again. Nick hesitated. Was he mad... uncomfortable? //You're making something out of it that's not there,// his mind commented sharply.
"Nick." Grissom's hand was on his shoulder, firmly guiding. "You're going to pass out. Come on."
Okay. Nick looked at the closed door, the bedroom where his parents were staying. His mother was taking a shower. Nick wanted to wait to say goodnight to her. Living so far away from home he rarely got the chance anymore.
"Go to bed, Nicky," his father encouraged, his eyes regarding him with a hint of amusement. "I'll let your mother know." He raised his newspaper again. "Let Gil help you."
//Let Gil help me.// Nick sighed, giving up on analyzing his own spin on what was going on. He was too tired.
He let Grissom put him to bed.
Continued Part 2
So please read with this in mind...
Title: Gone Awry
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: FRAO (Adults Only)
Summary: Sometimes first steps are more a stumble and a fall
Spoiler: None. Not Episode Related.
Warning: Slash; Angst; Hints of Graphic Violence; Aftermath of Violence
Hope it is enjoy in spite of its age.
University Medical Center. ER. Grissom had been here hundreds of times. Assignments. As he approached the entrance he took in the organized chaos around him. It was Thursday night, not quite the same as the more active weekend but a good build up. Old and young. Accidents. Illness. Violence. Grissom paused as a child ran across his path follow by a young woman holding a toddler in her arms. The younger child was unusually quite, her arm splinted. Grissom met the child's eyes and smiled reassuringly. The child blinked at him then hid her head against the woman's neck, clearly shy. Mentally he wished her well and continued his journey.
There had been a beating in an isolated parking lot behind a popular bar. Two men were attacked. One was dead. He sent Warrick to handle the scene. The other man was not seriously hurt but in need of medical attention. He came to see the second victim, question him if possible. Gather evidence.
This case, he suspected as he approached the triage station, would hold his interest more than usual. Shane's Bar and Grill was popular among the gay community so it didn't take much to speculate on the reason behind the attack.
"Gil Grissom," he introduced as he met the eyes of the nurse behind the desk. The young man returned his gaze with mild interest. "Crime Lab." He held up his shield. "I'm here to see an attack victim you got from Shane's bar?"
Mild interest turned to full attention. "Come with me," he said as he moved down a small hallway. "We isolated him once we realized who he was. There's a detective with him."
Grissom frowned, confused. "Who is he?" //Let it not be a celebrity,// he prayed.
The nurse paused as they came to the end of a row of curtains in an area away from the main crowd of people. The faint sound of beeps reached Grissom's ears. "No one told you?"
"Told me what?" Anticipatory, he faced the ER nurse. "What's going on?"
"That's okay, Mr. Roberts," another very familiar voice spoke from behind the curtain. A moment later Captain Jim Brass emerged, his expression bleak. "Gil--" He paused, looking away then back. "Nick's in there."
Grissom moved before his brain fully understood the words. His hand pulled away the thick fabric. On the ER gurney laid the unconscious form of Nick Stokes, one of his investigators. //He was off tonight,// Grissom remembered as shock filtered through his body. //First time in awhile.// His eyes scanned the injured man, taking in the wrapped forearm, the blackened eyes, the bandaged head. An EKG monitor beside the bed showed good numbers. Fluid dripped from an IV bag on the other side into Nick's uninjured arm. //My god...//
"Mr. Grissom... come on... sit down."
Someone forced him to sit. Grissom blinked. The male nurse was bent in front of him, studying him closely. "You're in a little shock, Mr. Grissom," the young man said evenly. "Just relax. Nick is all right. He's got a mild concussion and a lacerated forearm along with some bruising. But that's all. He'll be all right."
All right. Grissom took a deep breath then another. All right. "I'm all right," he said as he saw a young woman in a physician's coat join the nurse. "I'm all right."
"I'm Dr. Maria Kensington," the physician introduced. Her dark eyes watched him speculatively. "I'm sorry you weren't told before you got here. We only just found out his identity about twenty minutes ago."
"Twenty minutes?" The call came in almost an hour ago. He looked at Brass. //How come they didn't know?//
"Nick was out of it by the time the ambo came. The EMTs just scraped him off the ground and loaded him in." Anger swarmed in his eyes. "The assholes took his wallet and the uniforms had to chase them down. You were on the way just as I was getting here and found out. The Press were already sniffing so I had him put back here." Brass patted Grissom on the shoulder. "I didn't want to distract you while you were driving."
"He's in a deep sleep right now," Dr. Kensington reported in a low voice. "I gave him something for the pain. I'm waiting for a bed upstairs then I'm going to admit him. I want him kept for observation tonight and tomorrow. If all's well, he can go home." She walked over to her patient and checked on the equipment that monitored his vitals. "Someone will in to check on him every half hour until there's a room." She looked to Grissom. "I understand he has no family here. Can you be here... or arrange for someone? After something like this it would be better if there was a familiar face."
"I'll stay," Grissom responded without hesitation. The doctor nodded with a friendly smile. Then she and the nurse left. //Should I call his parents?// he wondered as he watched Nick breathe. //His brothers and sister? Should I wait for Nick to wake up and decide?// Grissom slowly closed his eyes, ordering his mind to focus. There was something important he needed to do immediately. "Jim," he began as he stood and pulled out his cell phone. "I'm pulling my team from this one. We're too close." He pushed a single key to speed dial his call. "Conrad? This is Grissom. I've got a situation here..."
Steady noises. Murmured voices. Nick had dreamed about... something. But the memory was fading as his body began to ache. He lay on something firm. He shifted to make himself more comfortable and frowned when he couldn't. He tried to move his hands to rub his eyes. But one hand felt too heavy and the other was firmly held...
"Nicky, it's Grissom. You're in University Medical. You've been hurt."
Grissom? Nick fought to regain awareness, opening his eyes in spite of the pain that lanced through his eyelids from the too bright lighting around him. Grissom's blurred face was just inches from his, blue eyes bright with concern. Hurt? Nick assessed himself, feeling tightness and pounding aches. There was a fight. This guy had hit him, calling him a-- //Oh man... What the fuck did I do... What happened to--// He moved his mouth but there was a thick, nasty tasting film surrounding his tongue almost made him gag.
"Here, Nick. Drink slowly." The bed moved, raising Nick up into a sitting position with a low mechanical noise. He was in a hospital room. There were machines near him that beeped and hummed. His skin stung and pulsed where an IV and tubing was taped to the underside of his forearm. //How bad am I hurt?// His vision wavered but he was able to make out a short thin man standing off to the side, a familiar face in casual but conservative shirt and pants. Dark rimmed glasses graced his face. //George Donaldson... Ecklie's team... shit...// He let Grissom slip the straw in his mouth and he drank a few sips, grateful for the coolness of the ice water until it ran down and hit his stomach. "The guy," he rasped as he battled waves of nausea. "I think they beat him pretty bad."
Grissom withdrew the water then grasped Nick's hand once more, the older man's skin warm against his. "The other man is dead, Nick."
Dead? Flashes of memory wafted through him. He was on the ground, stunned, his head pounding. Two guys were spitting on him, yelling. Then the other guy-- "They killed him?"
"So far as we know," Grissom confirmed. His grip on Nick's hand tightened. "Ecklie's team is handling this. George needs to ask you a few questions. Can you do that?"
Nick closed his eyes again and sank against the pillows as the shock of Grissom's news washed through him, as he fully understood what kind of situation he had gotten himself into. //They know... goddammit they know! What an idiot I am! And that guy... I got him killed...//
"Nick?" Grissom's voice was quiet and steady. "You know he needs to do this. And the sooner you talk to him the better the details. Okay?"
Nick found himself nodding, wishing that he could just crawl up and die inside. //I can't believe it... Just once... the first time... I was just curious... just wanted to know... this isn't fair!//
"Nick, I'm sorry this happened." Donaldson's voice. Nick forced his head to move against the pillow in marginal acknowledgement. George wasn't a bad guy but not good with working outside the rules. "Do you know who the other man was?"
"Don't know," he responded, inwardly irritated at how weak his voice sounded.
"You... weren't... close?" The question was asked in careful tone.
"I had never seen him before." //They think he was my date... oh man.// A violent shiver ran down Nick's spine. "He tried to help," he managed, amazed how difficult it was to talk. His tongue refused to cooperate. His face felt as if it had been smashed against a wall. //Well almost... the cement ground...//
"Nick." Grissom. Nick sighed, grateful his boss was still holding his hand, holding back the grief and hysteria that threatened to rise. He got someone killed for doing something he didn't really do... something he shouldn't have been doing. Nick wondered if Grissom would continue to be so gracious once he knew the whole story. "What happened?" Grissom urged gently.
Nick worked his mouth. More water was offered and he took the barest of sips, just enough to moisten without irritating his stomach. "I... uh... was at the bar. I was talking to this guy. We-- hit it off." Nick waited for Grissom's hold on his hand to withdraw and was heartened when it did not. "We went out... to go to his place. But this other guy came... and the guy I was with..."
Hey Arnie! This fucking fag wanted to fucking fuck me! Can you believe it?
"We were in the back part of a parking lot... the one near Harris'. I know I should have known better... but..." Nick tried to focus on the facts. His mind was beginning to crowd with a crawling sensations and he knew he had to concentrate hard if he was going to be any help. "The guy I was with... he said his name was Carson. He had something in his jacket. He hit me before I knew what was going on." Nick tightened his hold on Grissom's hand, needing the Human contact to continue. "I tried to fight back... but I fell... caught my arm on something..." They kicked and spit on him. Carson raised his weapon again. "It was a pipe I think," he said vaguely. "I tried to get up then this guy came. He was yelling at them... told them to get away..." Nick shuttered.
Christ, Carson! Another homo! Get him!
"He tried to help me... but they went after him... Carson hit him with the pipe again and again... I couldn't do anything." //I got him killed.// "I heard someone scream... then sirens I think... the two guys were yelling at each other. Then-- I don't remember."
"It's all right, Nick." Grissom voice was unusually gentle... calming. His one hand held Nick's possessively while his other hand petted over the top of Nick's head. "It's all right. You did what you could, Nicky. It wasn't your fault." Pause. "That enough, George?"
"Uh... yeah. Maybe more later... when he's ready." George's voice was professional but something in it held a note of disgust. //At me probably. One of their own is a fag. But I'm not... I didn't even...// "Nick, I mean it. I'm sorry this happened. I'll share what you said with Brass so we won't have to ask you again. And Nick... we got the bastards who did this and we're going to do everything we can to make sure they don't do it to anyone else ever again. Okay?"
Surprised, Nick's eyes drifted open. Donaldson's blurry face stared down at him with a vaguely angry expression on it. //He's upset at them. He doesn't care that I'm... that I might be...// The understanding stressed his injured brain. Nick felt his awareness slip away, his heavy eyelids closed again.
"I think we're losing him for the moment," he heard Grissom say in the air around him. "Nicky... Listen to me. I'm going to be right here and if I'm not one of our team will be... they're all doing assignments now but they're all concerned about you. I promise you won't be alone. It's going to be all right..."
"Arnie Tipper and Carson Winters were denied bond today at District Court. The two were arrested almost a week ago for the slaying of businessman, Tomas Alvez, and the brutal beating of another man whose identity had not been released but is reported to be a part of the Las Vegas Police Department. At first the motive was thought to be gay-bashing as the two men were found behind a popular gay bar, Shane's, in downtown Las Vegas. Now it seems it may be a case of mistaken identity, at least as far as Tomas Alvez was concerned. Reports indicate the forty year old executive, happily married and father of three, was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, trying to stop the savage beating of the other man..."
Nick listened. His stomach twisted as the cable news station pinned up Alvez's picture, a family portrait showing his wife, an infant, and two young boys, all smiling, all representative of the "traditional" family conservative groups wanted everyone to be. Nick had managed to make himself a sandwich but the food was left untouched, long forgotten. The cable news stations were all covering it, focusing on the hate crime angle, on the "hero saving a victim from an apparent hate crime."
//Apparent.// Nick shifted as his side began to ache. He had been kicked in the stomach and the side, causing deep bruising that throbbed painfully every time he moved or sat in once place too long. During the past few days he had tried to relax, tried to heal. When he was released from the hospital yesterday afternoon, Warrick and Grissom were there, bundling him into Grissom's Tahoe before the Press, camped out in another part of the hospital, caught wind. Grissom told him then that he wasn't being taken home. When the Press found out they would be there. But there was a condo unit that Warrick's friend owned that was usually rented out on a time-share basis. Warrick said his friend would let them have it for as long as they needed it. The unit was well maintained and well furnished with two bedrooms, two full baths, a large living area, a breakfast bar and a kitchenette. Expensively cozy and secure. Safe from the Press or anyone else Nick didn't want to see.
And every evening Grissom was with him, taking over the second bedroom on the other side of the unit, lending a physical presence Nick found comforting and unnerving. Gil had changed his schedule, working five to six hours during the day, taking care of administrative duties, working with the Sheriff in dealing with possible Press fallout. During that time Catherine, Sara, Warrick, Greg or any number of CSI team members would show up, bearing gifts, gossip, or competition in a video game. Nick forced himself to be social, to put up the best face possible. And they helped. Their care helped. But it also left a knot in his soul, feeding his guilt. It was his own stupid actions that got an innocent man killed over something that was a lie... might be a lie...
Nick heard the anchor's tone change, introducing a new piece. The crime scene where he had been attacked had quickly become stock footage for the story. They were calling in "experts" to go "in depth" in order for the public to learn the story behind the story. Civil Rights. Gay bashing. LVPD's policy on employing openly gay men. Nick winced, terrified and fascinated. Never in his life had he ever imaged being a part of one of "those stories". But there it was. He was a victim... recalling every blow... every word... the cries of the man who tried to help...
"Fuck!" He aimed the remote and turned off the television, trembling and sick. //Fucking vultures! What do they know! They don't even know who I am!//
//But they will... probably know now. Now that the two clowns have been arraigned Grissom told you they wouldn't be able to stop your name from becoming public knowledge.// In a surge of frustration Nick threw the remote across the room, satisfied as he heard the satisfying sound of shattering plastic when the device hit the opposite wall. //You know what, Nicky? You've really screwed up your life, old son. All for what?// Nick wiped at his eyes, angered by his total lack of control as tears welled up. //Because you wanted to see what it would be like to be with a guy... to be with--//
Nick heard his cell phone ring. "Grissom," he hissed out loud as he grabbed the phone. The older man had been good to him, putting up with a lot since his attack. Nick wondered if he could ever tell him the truth... "Hey," he said in a friendly voice.
"Well hi there," came a completely unfamiliar voice. "This is Kelly Anderson calling from Fox Station, KLVT. I'm the producer for the News at Five. We were wondering if we could get a statement from you about your brutal attack and Mr. Alvez's death..."
//What?// Suddenly cold and shaking, Nick pulled the phone away and stared at it, noting the unfamiliar phone number on the Caller ID display. //Fox Station? Television? Oh fuck!//
He could hear the woman calling his name and switched off the phone. But almost immediately it rang again. Another unfamiliar number. //They found me!// Panic rose within his gut as he looked around. //They know who I am!// The phone went silent then rang again. "Fuck you!" he yelled at the phone then threw it, watching with only mild alarm as it smashed through the glass door on a hutch next to the kitchen, further smashing through the ornate gravy boat inside.
Then the cordless phone in the condo rang. Enraged Nick picked it up. "What the fuck do you want?"
"Nicky? It's Grissom."
//Oh Christ...// Nick sniffed, tears blurred his vision and burned down his cheeks. The adrenaline flow was leaving him, his mind and body shifting sharply downward. "I'm sorry, Gris--"
"It's all right, Nick." Grissom's voice was calm and steady, much as it had been since he woke up in University's hospital room. "Brian warned me. He said he got a call from some news station asking to confirm your identity. I'm on my way to you, Nicky. I'm about two blocks away. They told me I could use the VIP entrance. Listen to me carefully, Nick. No one can get to you without going through security. Okay?"
"Okay."
"I have to hang up so I can drive. But I'll be right there."
"Okay." Nick heard a click at the other end and his world fell apart. He didn't bother to control the tears flowing out of his eyes, would be a waste of time. //This is stupid! I should be able to handle this!// He put the phone back in the charger, noting how shaky his hands were. His entire body felt as if he had been beaten up again. //I'm such a wimp!// He glanced at the hutch, suddenly sorry for the damage. //Damn! I was a cop, an EMT! I've dragged bodies out of shootouts. What's wrong with me!//
Fighting for calm he found a pan and brush under the sink and moved as much as his body would allow to clean up the glass from the floor. "Man," he said aloud to himself. "Wonder how much this costs." He hoped not too much. He hoped it wasn't a heirloom. "I can't believe I lost control like that!"
He cleaned what he could and rescued his cell phone. It was damaged but he separated the battery from the main unit anyway. No more calls there. He stepped into the kitchen and threw cold water over his face then sat down on the couch, staring at the blank screen of the big screen television. He had destroyed the remote, dented the wall. Of course the television could be turned on manually, the channel changed through the descrambler box. But it was just too much effort. There was nothing to see, except his name in lights. His parents would know now. He should call them... tell them...
Fag for a son...
Nick tensed as the door opened behind him. Instinct told him it was Grissom. And if it wasn't... he decided didn't care.
"Are you all right?"
All right? Nick twisted his head up. Grissom stood just inside the door. A grocery bag hung from his hand. His blue eyes were fixed on Nick as a frown wrinkled his brow. "Yeah... I'm great!"
Grissom lowered the grocery bag and came over to sit by Nick. His hand gently raised Nick's face while his other hand assessed the small bandage on his head. The touch was professional but somehow also personal. Nick alternately yearned to lean into Grissom's hand while a saner part of his psyche kept that urge in check. "I'm sorry you got a call before I could get to you," he said quietly. He pulled back and met Nick's gaze. "I won't be going back into work until this is done."
//Grissom taking time off? For me?// Guilt assaulted Nick. He shook his head. "I can take care of myself. I mean... I appreciate everything you... and everyone else has done. But I don't want to interfere--"
Grissom's hand covered his mouth. "Shut up, Nick. Okay?" He looked around as he got up, taking the untouched plate of food off the coffee table. His eyes roamed, resting on the hutch then the remains of the remote on the floor. He assessed Nick calmly. "I see you didn't get a chance to eat. I was going to make a few sandwiches. Do you think you could eat now?"
Nick laid his head back on the sofa, drained. "No... not hungry." Stokes heard Grissom move around. The bag was picked up then footsteps into the kitchen. "What time is it?" he asked. That was his biggest problem since the attack. His usual ability to internally sense the time of day had completely disappeared.
"Nearly eleven-thirty." Grissom continued to move around, opening doors, drawers, bags. Nick caught the faint scent of deli meats and involuntarily took a deep breath. His stomach suddenly came alive, making muted demands.
"Can I change my mind... on the sandwich?" he ventured.
"Of course."
Silence. Nick wanted to sleep... wanted to scream... wanted to do more damage. //And what good would that do?// "Sorry about... the remote," he said finally, deciding he hated the silence.
"I'll ask the next person coming up to bring a Universal remote." Grissom walked in with sandwiches on a plate and two bottles, one of soda and one of beer. "You can have a sip of mine but no more," Grissom offered, holding the beer out to him. "Not until you're off the meds."
Nick frowned. He was getting tired of soda but it was better than milk. He took the bottle and threw back a large 'sip' then held out the bottle. "Thanks."
Grissom seem to hesitate, blue eyes watching Nick a moment before flicking away. "You're welcome," he said distractedly as he put the food down on the coffee table along with Nick's soda bottle as he sat down. For a moment he studied the bottle he held then drank from it.
Nick watched, confused. //What's the big deal?// But his body reacted, tightening slightly as he realized his mouth had just been there... //Oh man, stop it!// He turned his attention to the food, a ham sandwich with lettuce and tomato, and let another hunger take control. He glanced back at the man sitting next to him. Grissom was reaching for a sandwich as well, his expression completely normal.
"Anything wrong?" Grissom asked as he noted Nick's gaze.
"No!" Nick glanced away and bit into his sandwich. //See? Your imagination! Now that you think you're gay, you think everyone else is too. Well you're not and neither is Grissom.//
They ate in friendly silence. At some point Grissom walked over to the television and turned it on, making no comment as the first thing that came on was a news story about the "gay bashing incident in Las Vegas". He changed stations, finally settling on the Discovery Channel. The view looked like a deep jungle with a diversity of life echoing from within. There was the steady voice of a narrator talking about life cycles of some rare butterfly.
"Do you mind?" Grissom asked as he came back to sit next to Nick.
"No. Whatever you want." Nick laid his head back again. Food had been a good idea. He felt more in control, though more intense aches and pains were starting to report in. His pain medication was beginning to wear off. Nick lifted his head and eyed the prescription bottle on the table. He was supposed to take them every four to five hours. It had been six since his last dose but he didn't like to take drugs. He could wait.
"I need to tell you something, Nick." Grissom voice was lower, firmer. Nick's eyes wandered open. "Your parents are coming in tomorrow morning," Gil stated evenly. "I'm going to pick them up from the airport."
Parents. Nick quickly sat up, shock and adrenaline fighting off any discomfort the moves caused. //I didn't call them yet. How could they be coming?// His heart pounded as he understood. "Man, they saw the news!" //And I didn't call them...//
"You know the news went national this morning, Nicky. They saw the report." Grissom's eyes were watchful, his tone lightly chided. "They called about two hours ago. Your name hadn't been mentioned yet but your mother said she had a feeling. They tried to call you at home then work. I took the call and talked to them. They are very concerned, Nicky."
//Oh god.// Nick shot off the couch, needing space, suddenly ashamed. //I didn't call them! I should have! What could I have said?// He combed his hands through his hair, wincing as his bandaged arm protested the movement. //They know... Fag for a son... but I'm not... Jesus, I'm in a hole. How do I get out?//
"Nicky, calm down. It's all right--"
"Dammit! It's not all right!" Nick faced his supervisor to vent his anger and frustration. "I didn't want them to know!"
"But they already did, Nick," Grissom reasoned. "And they were very upset. But Nick, they understood. They're not angry. They wanted to come tonight but I said I wanted to talk to you first. They're taking an early morning flight out of Dallas/Fort Worth."
//They're coming.// Nick put a hand on the wall beside him to keep steady. //They're coming. Okay... You need them and they're coming.// He shook his head and wiped the stray tears from his eyes. "Man, I've really fucked up my life!"
"Because you're gay?" Grissom cocked his head as he studied Nick. "Or because other people know?"
"I'm not gay!" Agitated, Nick started pacing again. "I'm not!" he said again as if repeating it would make it the truth.
Grissom's face took on that focused, speculative expression. Then his posture relaxed. "You're not attracted to men?"
Nick swallowed the automatic response. Grissom would know he was lying. "I-- like women. I mean I *really* like women." There... that was the truth.
"You can like women, Nick." Grissom sounded amused. "Some people would call that being bi."
Bi? Stokes grimaced. His side was beginning to feel like a wild animal had gotten a hold of him. All his pacing and moving around had irritated his bruises. And his head... "I don't know, Gil. But I didn't mean to be at Shane's that night. I just..." //Idiot! Don't confess! Not to him!// "I don't know."
Grissom nodded at the response and pick up the small medicine bottle from the table. "Looks a bit full," he said lightly. "I think you need to take some more." He opened the pill bottle and shook out a pill. He jerked his chin towards the couch. "Come on, Nick. You can use the rest. I have some paperwork I have to finish."
Bird sounds came from the television and a different voice was introducing something about Whooping Cranes in the United States. Nick's eyes flicked to the clock on the stove in the kitchen. Just after noon. He walked back to the couch feeling deflated and somewhat contrite. He started to sit down when Grissom stopped him with a hand on his leg.
"Wait a sec. You need to be more comfortable." Grissom grabbed the two pillows Nick had used to support his back and threw them to the other end of the couch. "Lie down, Nicky," he ordered.
Nick nodded. The pain was getting sharper. His head pounded louder than his thoughts. Grissom got up as Nick lay down. A thin blanket was put over him. "Here." Grissom held out his hand. Nick took the pill. "Here." Grissom offered him the half full soda bottle. Nick took the pill and drank it down then closed his eyes and waited for the drug to take effect.
A cell phone ring made him jerk. His nerves sparked. //Not again! I thought I broke it--//
"Grissom." Gil had his own cell phone out. He raised a calming hand towards Nick as he listened intently. "Anthony? I'm Gil Grissom, Nick's supervisor with CSI."
//Anthony?// Nick nearly sobbed as he wished for instant death. Tony... his brother. His oldest brother.
"No, he's here." Gil looked Nick over. "He's nearly asleep. Did you want to talk to him?"
//No! No!// Nick's heart pounded against his rib cage as panic ripped through him. Sixteen years older, Tony was like a second father to him. Presently Anthony Taylor Stokes was a Sheriff in the middle of a small Texas city with a wife and five kids. Normal. He couldn't--
"He's doing fine," Grissom's voice continued. "They're being held without bond. I hope not." Pause. "Yes... I will." Grissom laughed a little. "I'll tell him. Nice meeting you too."
Nick heard Grissom hang up his phone. //What did he say?// he asked silently, wondering if he wanted to know. Tony's little brother was a--
"Your brother said he heard from your parents this morning," Grissom began. Nick felt his legs moved and shifted then his feet were lifted then comfortably settled on a slightly higher, softer, warmer surface. Nick raised his head. His legs were on Grissom's lap. Grissom's hands covered his sweat pant covered calves and his sock covered feet.
"Okay?" Gil asked, his expression neutral.
Nick didn't have the energy to blush. The medication was starting to work. "That's fine," he said, putting his head back. "Tony's my oldest brother." He smiled as he realized. "He's only a year older than you."
"Is he?" Grissom's hands were still but their warmth invaded Nick's body, calming him. "He wanted to make sure you were all right. He said your parents called everyone in the family."
"Damn!" //They all know!// Nick made motions to get up, needing to--
"Nick, stay still." Grissom's hands gripped his thigh and ankle, holding him in place. "Your parents wanted to be sure everyone they can think of knows that 'no comment' is the only acceptable statement any of them can make to the Press." He lightly rubbed Nick's leg in a comforting gesture. "They want to protect you."
"The Press knows about them?" //Shit! I've gotten myself in a hole and I've taken them down with me...//
"Reporters are resourceful, " Grissom said lightly, tiredly. "Your father is a State Supreme Court judge. Your mother is a well-known defense attorney. So they didn't have to research too deeply to find them."
Nick threw his arms over his face, ignoring the pain in his left arm, the one with the stitches. "Gris... is this the part where I wake up and thank God it was all a dream?"
Grissom's light touch became a gentle massage. "This is going to work out, Nick. Everyone who counts is supporting you."
"Dammit, Gil! I didn't do anything!" Tears escaped his eyes, rolling over his cheeks, falling lightly into his ears. The medication was eroding his control. "I mean... we didn't do anything! And I didn't do anything before..."
Grissom's hands stilled. "You never-- Nick, you've never been with a man?"
"No!" Nick tried to get up again but Grissom's strong grip stopped him. Defeated, Nick again cocooned his face in his arms, hiding behind the darkness as the dam burst within his heart. "I--I just wanted to know! I wanted to see! I wasn't thinking..."
"Shhh..." Grissom's hand lightly gripped his uninjured arm. "Nick, look at me."
"I can't!" Nick sobbed, ashamed and fearful. //If I look at him I'm going to spill the rest of it and what little I have of him right now will be gone.// "Gris, I'm sor--"
"Don't apologize!" Grissom's tone was sharp, even angry. "Nick, look at me!"
Nick gave in. He lowered his arms. Grissom was leaning sideways towards him, holding out his handkerchief. His eyes were intent, meeting Nick's, a snake seeking its prey. "Gris--"
"Take this." Grissom waved the handkerchief. Shyly Nick took it, gingerly using it. His face felt raw now. His eyes hurt. "Now listen to me carefully, Nick," Gil began in that gentle, steady voice that had become common to his ears. "You didn't do anything wrong... though I wish you had taken more care. You've been a police officer and an EMT... now a criminologist. You should have known better." His fingers briefly brushed Nick's hand, taking the sting from his words, offering comfort. "Nick, is this the first time you were interested in men?"
//Lord no!// Nick sighed, exhaustion spreading through his body. His emotional outburst had aided the effects of the medication he had taken. "I... looked... but never..." Nick growled in frustration as he fought to find the right words to say rather than say what he really wanted to. "I just wanted to know..."
"What changed to make you... want to know?" Grissom's body had shifted, pulling back to sit normally, his hands again resting around Nick's foot.
//Oh man! Not going to answer that one!// Nick felt a final wave of stillness settle within him. He was falling asleep and was more than happy to do so. Grissom's hands moved, rubbing his foot, his ankle. Asking nothing else of him as he drifted off.
Grissom began to relax as he saw Nick drift off to sleep. He stared at the television screen but stopped paying attention. Even bugs didn't interest him at the moment. Nothing mattered beyond the man whose feet he held and the puzzle he was slowly beginning to resolve.
I'm not gay!
A smile crept across his lips as he remembered the denial. //Of course not, Nicky. You went to a gay bar and admitted that you "hit it off" with another man because you aren't interested?// Grissom let out a near silent snort. Classic denial. His gazed fixed on Nick's face, on the minor cuts and bruises. His mood quickly swung in the opposite direction. //God Nicky, what were you doing?// Grissom bowed his head as fatigue warred with anxious realization. //You could have been killed! And I never would have known...//
//Known what? That he was gay? Bi? Meaning what... that he would be available? Interested... in you?// Grissom sighed, quickly putting aside his fantastic thoughts. //He's a young man... unsure... confused... and hurt. He's looking to me for support.// Grissom lifted his head to study his contact with Stokes, his hands moving casually over Nick's legs. If he were a woman friend no one would question them sitting together like this, wouldn't necessarily give it sexual connotations. But he was a man... and the one he comforted was a man. People had a tendency to make all kinds of assumptions. //And in this case... in my case... they would be close to the truth.// Grissom dared a stray caress over Nick's abdomen and crouch. //But nothing will come of it. And I would never presume.//
Grissom laid his head back. Nick's parents were coming tomorrow. They sounded anxious, even a bit hurt that it had been him and not their son who told them. But they quickly rallied, quickly forgave. And Nick's brother had made it clear that if his little brother's attackers ever got bond he was to be called immediately. Grissom didn't dare ask what Tony would do with the information as he put Nick's brother's number on his speed dial. Just in case.
Nick moved, turning in his sleep, away from his injured side. Grissom gently braced Nick's legs, helping him find a more comfortable position without waking up or falling off the couch. In the end he wound up holding Stokes' thighs against his stomach. Uncomfortable but welcomed opportunity. He stared at the television screen. The life of squirrels in North America. Charming. Noise. And he didn't want to disturb Nick to get up and turn it off. So he ignored it. //Think I'll take a nap instead.// He shifted carefully and relaxed, closing his eyes, letting his fantasies out to play as his fingers move minutely over the tiny patch of expose skin between edge of Nick's shirt-- displaced when the younger man had moved-- and the waistband of his pants.
Nick Stokes tried not to obsess the whole morning while Grissom was gone to pick up his parents. But his visitor was no help in that area. The personal assistant to the Assistant District Attorney was in the living room of his borrowed home. She had come just as Grissom was leaving, asking questions he didn't want to hear.
"Nick, I need you to focus."
Stokes blinked. Angela Brookes was a good-looking woman in her forties, professional but personable. She accepted his coffee and got right to work, asking questions, listening as Nick spoke. It was the first step before an official statement, a picking of his brain before he actually met with the ADA to go the next step in building and presenting the prosecution case. She began by asking him the same questions as the police. Where was he? Why was he there? What did he say? What did the other guy say? Did the other guy make his intentions clear? Did he... force himself on the other guy? Provoke him?
//Was it my fault?//
"Nick?"
"What!" Stokes was pacing across the apartment. Overall he felt better. His head felt less like a punching bag. His bruises were beginning to turn brilliant colors. His side hurt but he didn't like to take pills so ignored the discomfort, though it was hard as Brookes continued her questions, making him relive his attack in detail, making him analyze his motives... their motives...
"Nick... I know this is difficult--"
"You don't know shit!" He began pacing at warp speed. "I don't want to talk about it anymore! Okay?" He knew he shouldn't be yelling, shouldn't be cursing at this woman. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't anyone's fault... except maybe his. //That Alvez guy would be alive and his two little boys would have their father--//
"Hey Nick."
Stokes jumped. //Shit!// Grissom was back. Nick swung around. Brookes was closing her case, gathering her coat. She studied him with some annoyance mixed with concern. Then she gave him a small smile and turned her head towards Grissom who stood just inside the condo accompanied by two others. //Grissom... and--// The paralegal smiled and shook hands with the new arrivals then left. As the door closed Nick felt an overwhelming urge to bolt, to follow her out, speed past her... run away to-- He focused on Grissom, frustrated and frightened.
"You all right, son?"
Dad. Nick could feel the tears welling up. His parents eyes were fastened on him, watching, concerned. Nick forced himself to gather his sanity, to put on a casual face, to greet them like always. //Hey guys! Have a good trip? Glad to see you...// Then courage left him completely as he turned away. He couldn't face them. He was so ashamed...
A hand touched his arm, turning him. He looked and found himself caught in his mother's eyes. She wasn't much shorter than he was, tall for a woman in her generation. Her gaze moved over him as if taking inventory, her fingers touched the bandage on his forehead, the bruises around his eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Nicky," she said finally. She put her hands on his shoulders then pulled him against her. Nick squeezed his eyes shut as he returned the hug, determined not to give in but losing the battle a moment later as a sob escaped him as he broke down and openly wept.
"We're here now, Nicky," his mother cooed as she rocked him awkwardly. Her embrace grew tight, possessive and protective. "Your father and I are here to help."
"He's recovering though there have been ups and downs... as you saw."
Nick toweled himself dry and took off the light plastic wrapping from where it had been protecting the stitches on his forearm. His ears were on alert, straining to capture the quiet voices in conversation in the living room. After his tears ended the skin on his face felt as if it were on fire. His body ached and spasmed. His mother ordered him to take a cool shower. And it helped. Though the aches remained his face felt less irritated, his eyes less blood-shot.
"I wish he had called us." Nick winced. He and his father had always talked, always shared. //I should have called him.// He grabbed a clean pair of sweat pants and put them on. //And told him what?// He grabbed his shirt, grunting as he put it on. It still hurt but it was better. //Hi Dad. Just to let you guys know I got the shit beaten out of me by some freaks who don't like homosexuals. What? Yeah... no... Dad... I'm not... I didn't--//
There was a polite knock then Grissom's head slipped in before this body followed as blue eyes took in Nick's state of dress. Grissom himself wore jeans, t-shirt and well-worn shoes. Casual. Open. Attentive. Nick wondered for the thousandth time why his boss was taking the trouble, unconsciously torturing him with his presence. "I'm almost done." He sat down on the bed to put on his socks. These and the sweat pants and shirt were all that he'd been wearing since coming home from the hospital. Part of him wondered if he would ever get used to wearing regular work clothes again.
"I have to go out," Grissom said shortly. "Get some supplies. Let you have some time with your--"
"Don't go." Nick swallowed, silently cursing his mouth and his brain as they reacted faster than his ability to control them. He looked down at his bare foot, contemplating putting on his other sock as shame flushed through him. //Where the fuck did that come from?//
He heard the bedroom door quietly close then saw a shadow fall across the floor. "Nicky, they love you. They want to make sure you're all right." The bed dipped. Grissom's body brushed his as the older man sat down next to him. "Nick, what are you afraid of?"
Nick forgot about his other sock and stood up to separate himself from Grissom's proximity. "I'm not afraid of anything!" he defended.
"That's why you're standing in front of me acting like a caged animal? Why you're not comfortable seeing your parents alone?"
Suddenly angry Nick faced him, his raw nerves screaming from his attempts keep himself and others in line. "Don't analyze me! I'm not a suspect!" Grissom flinched and Nick immediately regretted his words. His ran his hands through his hair and over his face, wishing for the gift of invisibility. "I'm sorry, Gil!" he cried out. "I'm sorry!" He waited, knowing the man who had been nothing less than his lifeline and support over the past several days was about to get up and leave, hurt. That Nick Stokes, idiot-at-large, had crossed the line.
Grissom got up but instead of moving to the door he moved towards Nick. Nick wanted to back away but held his ground. Gil smiled a little as he stopped. His hand came up, almost brushing Nick's cheek before laying on his shoulder. "I'm going out for awhile, Nicky. I'm going to get something to cook for you and your parents tonight and take care of some calls I need to make. I should be back by three or so." His fingers on Nick's shoulder tightened. "Your parents love you. They want to talk to you." He smiled. "And I'm okay, Nick. I wasn't offended. Okay?"
Okay. Nick was breathing hard though he couldn't tell now if it was from high anxiety or Grissom's touch. //God I want him...// His heart slammed into his throat as he saw Grissom's expression change, his brow wrinkle. His hand moved from Nick's shoulder and hovered above his face before dropping away. Nick sighed, not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed. //What's going on?//
"I'll see you later," Grissom said evenly. His expression and posture showed nothing more than friendly concern, normal. As if nothing had happened. He opened the bedroom door and walked out. Nick could see his parents standing up, his father shaking hands with Grissom, small words exchanged. Then Grissom was gone and his parents, Berle and Janet Stokes, looked back towards him with focused concerned.
And Nick realized that he was just staring at them, barely dressed, a sock in his hand, the other on his foot. With a sigh he went to the bed and sat down, quickly pulling on the remaining sock then got up and went into the living room. His father was sitting, reading the newspaper. His mother was in the kitchen, washing whatever had been left in the sink. //Just like they were home.// "Mom, I can do that--"
"I'm nearly done, Nick. I can make some coffee. Why don't you go sit with your father?"
Nick heard the firm tone in her voice. He heard paper shift and saw his father putting aside his reading and look at him expectantly. //Oh shit... they're going to "talk" to me.//
"Come on, son," his father encouraged.
//Don't I get a final meal?// Nick obeyed, easing his aching body onto the sofa, sitting as far away from his father as he thought he could get away with. His father frowned.
"Nicky, we're not angry with you," his father said quietly, almost defensively.
"I'm sorry." Nick tried to relax. His mother came from the kitchenette carrying a glass of water.
"Gil told us you probably haven't taken your medicine." She put the glass on a coaster in front of Nick then held out her hand. A small pill sat in the middle of her palm, waiting. "Knowing you he's probably right."
Nick's eyes shifted from one parent to the other then he sighed and took the pill and drank the water. His mother smiled then moved back to sit down in a chair next to the sofa. For a moment there was complete silence then his mother cleared her throat.
"Nick, why didn't you call us? Tell us? We had to hear about you on the national news." Her words were laced with hurt.
Nick bowed his head. "I--I don't know." Lie.
"Yes you do, Nicky," his mother insisted. "And we understand. But it hurt nevertheless."
//Oh man.// Nick squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the men who had attacked him had finished the job. He so did not want to be here.
"Son." His father. "How long have you... liked other men?"
Nick glanced up, shocked. //They're asking about my sex life... this is not going well at all.// "I don't know." Truth.
His father looked at his mother with that kind of silent communication children always hated. "Nick," his mother took over, her voice far less hesitant. "Your father and I want to make some things very clear to you so you understand how we feel about you and what's happened. Then you can tell us anything you don't think we understand. Clear?"
His mother sounded like she was in her "lawyer" mode, making a summation. When he was a kid this was never a good sign but, like an execution at the end of an appeals process, there was no escaping it. Nick nodded.
"First, you are our son, Nicholas Stokes. Our youngest child and one of our seven joys. When we saw the news report I knew it was you. Knew some people who had no business touching you had hurt you badly because they didn't like who you were." Her expression turned anxious. "Second. Your father and I love you no matter what. No matter who you are or who you love. I'm just sorry you felt uncomfortable telling us." She met his eyes. "Did you think we'd... reject you? That your brothers and sister would? They were very upset and angry when they heard... upset at you and angry with the bastards who did this to you. They all wanted to call you yesterday but I told them to wait until tonight. And I warned them to be patient with you."
Nick shifted uncomfortably as he took in what his parents were telling him. All his fears and assumptions had been way off base... why had he ever doubted them? //Because you're a coward, Nicky. If you said nothing, you never needed to know how they felt... and you could keep lying to yourself about what you really want.// "I don't know what to tell you," he said finally after long thought. "I've never... done anything... until... this Friday. I mean... I've always felt... something but I like women too." //Damn... I'm such a shit. Lie to my parents... my family. Get a guy killed--//
"What changed, son?"
His father's question was asked in the same way Grissom had asked last night. Only he wasn't falling asleep. He was wide-awake, in spite of the pain pill he just took. Nick stared at his father then shrugged, deciding on some honesty. "I met... someone. Only he doesn't know. And I don't know if he would be interested in me... that way. I didn't want to try without knowing how--" Knowing he was turning a pure shade of red, Nick covered his face in his hands. "Do you really want me to finish the answer?"
"Um... no..." both his parents said in unison, finally setting the limits. "Do we know him?" his mother asked, changing the focus of the discussion.
//Yes.// Still hiding his face, Nick shrugged. "Sort of."
"And you can't tell him?"
Nick groaned. "It could cause a problem... at work."
Silence answered his revelation. He ventured a glance at his parents. His father gazed at him kindly, patting him on the leg when their eyes met. His mother had an expression on her face that he recognized as deep thought. //Oh man... not good...// "Mom?"
His mother seemed to start. Her expression turned outward, regarding him with a smile. "Oh... I'm sorry, Nicky." She got up walked to the side of the couch. A moment later Nick found himself pulled against his mother as she embraced him where he sat. "Don't ever doubt us again, little man," she said, using a term of endearment she had used when he was a child. She kissed the top of his head and drew back, her eyes boring into his, her expression as serious as he had ever seen it. "You are a grown man, Nick. And none of us would dare tell you how you should behave or what you should do. But if you should ever pull a stunt like you did the other night again I'll have Tony kick your butt," she finished in her finest Texan accent. "And I know the rest of us would be holding you down while he does it. Got it?"
Nick felt gentle tears flow over his face as he smiled. "Thanks, mom," he said lightly, realizing everything was all right... as far as his family went. He looked at his father whose eyes also shown a bit. Then his eyes drifted to the door, to the two small bags there. "Hey, I'm sorry. Gil said he got the other room ready for you guys." He stood up then sat down, suddenly dizzy. The pain pill had kicked in. And now that his adrenaline surge was easing, he could feel himself starting to decline.
"Take a nap," his mother ordered. "Your father and I will make ourselves at home." Pause. "We're only going to be here until tomorrow afternoon," she said apologetically. "I could only get a forty-eight hour continuance on a motions hearing I have to attend."
"And I have to be present for an appeals hearing for a death penalty case." Nick's father stood. At just over seventy he was taller than Nick, narrower in frame. "Come on, son," he encouraged as he gently pulled on Nick's arm to get him to stand. For a moment the years peeled away and Nick let himself feel like the boy he had been, enjoying the care as his father guided him into the bedroom.
"I'll wake you up in an hour or so," his mother said. "Gil told me he left some lunch meat in the refrigerator. I'll make us something."
"Okay." Nick let himself be guided into his bedroom and put to bed. As he sighed in preparation to sleep he heard his parents quietly speaking to each other, making comments on the broken glass in the hutch, the pieces of the remote. Then he thought he heard Grissom's name mentioned several times and wondered if they had already figured it out...
It was surreal. Not in a bad way but not in a way that Nick could fully make sense of. Grissom came home by three and made the best chili Nick had ever had, though he wouldn't admit that to his mother. They talked about this and that. His sister Margaret's new baby, Nicole. His nephew's interest in law enforcement. It was as if they had dropped by for a quick visit, nothing out of the ordinary. Nick found himself smiling and laughing in all the right places but it all felt made-up, pretended but oddly good because Grissom was next to him, meeting his eyes every so often, casting a reassuring glance, even a conspiratorial wink when his parents said something revealing about Nick that Stokes himself would never thought of sharing with Grissom.
And in the midst of this were questions that left Nick wondering. Where was Grissom from? How long had he been a criminologist? What were his interests? Did he have family? Siblings? Pets? Nick wanted to stop them several times, knowing how private Grissom was, how he didn't like to reveal too much about himself. But tonight Grissom was more open than Nick could ever remember, answering their questions, though not in detail. It was a friendly exchange intermingled with normal family talk. It was comforting and odd. But Nick tried to focus on the comfort, the back of his mind tracking the fact that his parents would be gone tomorrow and he would be missing their physical presence while he dealt with this... all of this.
Towards the end of the meal there was a phone call. The ADA told them that the two attackers had agreed to plea guilty to the charges. The two had felt overwhelming guilt over the killing of a straight man with children yet still justified in their attack on Nick. However, it was an all or nothing deal. Life in prison for the charge of murder and attempted murder. With Nick's attack classified as a hate crime there would be no possibility of parole. It was all but signed and sealed. There would be no trial. Nick would not have to testify. It was over just like that as far as the justice system was concerned.
In reaction Nick's eyes filled with tears. His mother hugged him, assuring him everything would be all right now. His father hovered, his presence a comfort. And Grissom stayed seated next to him. At some point Grissom's hand was on his arm, offering a gentle squeeze. It was a simple gesture but one that helped Nick more than Grissom probably realized.
The conversation continued. His other brothers called. His sister called. Tony called back. All genuinely relieved to talk to him, all expressing their love, their anger and what happened. It was energizing, comforting and overwhelming. By nine o'clock his eyes were weighing down and his body ached, though not nearly as bad as it had been.
"Bed, Nicky."
Nick blinked. He was sitting on the couch, his body feeling like a puddle from exhaustion. Grissom stood above him, his hand held out, his eyes twinkling. "It's not a school night," he protested with a fake whine.
Grissom's lips twitched. "Come on."
Nick smiled and took his friend's hand, grunting painfully as Gil helped him to stand. He saw his father watching him, watching Grissom, a faint expression on his face Nick couldn't place but made him blush all the same. He carefully let go of Grissom and took a step aside. "Good night, Dad," he said, determined not to ruin the evening by getting anxious.
"Goodnight, son," Berle Stokes said calmly as he raised his newspaper up and began to read once again. Nick hesitated. Was he mad... uncomfortable? //You're making something out of it that's not there,// his mind commented sharply.
"Nick." Grissom's hand was on his shoulder, firmly guiding. "You're going to pass out. Come on."
Okay. Nick looked at the closed door, the bedroom where his parents were staying. His mother was taking a shower. Nick wanted to wait to say goodnight to her. Living so far away from home he rarely got the chance anymore.
"Go to bed, Nicky," his father encouraged, his eyes regarding him with a hint of amusement. "I'll let your mother know." He raised his newspaper again. "Let Gil help you."
//Let Gil help me.// Nick sighed, giving up on analyzing his own spin on what was going on. He was too tired.
He let Grissom put him to bed.
Continued Part 2