FIC: Sentinel of Sin City 8/?? - Gil/Nick/Greg, Jim/Blair, Overall NC-17
Title: Sentinel of Sin City 08 / ??
Author: Lakhesis
Pairing: Nick/Greg, Gil/Greg, Gil/Nick, Jim/Blair (Gil/Nick/Greg pre-slash)
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Sterling Dragonfly
Summary: The Sentinel xOver - Nick Stokes’ dormant genetic propensity is brought to full and shining life after Walter Gordon inters him. The repercussions are unpredictable.
Disclaimer: CSI is the property of CBS Broadcasting, Inc. and Alliance-Atlantis Communications. The Sentinel was used and abused by its creators who don’t deserve the naming of their ownership. Nothing was incurred in the creation of this fic other than a little (okay, a lot of) amusement.
***
The car had barely come to a halt when Grissom threw open the door. Blair followed him out, dissatisfied at the distinct lack of information he’d managed to withdraw from the other man, grumbling in a voice pitched for his Sentinel's ears, “Should have used the child lock.”
They trailed behind as Grissom hurried to the front door of the single-level dwelling. When he reached it, the door was already open. It framed Greg Sanders in shadow. In heavy contrast to the nearly frantic urgency of Gil, he waited with a sense of contented peace.
It intrigued Blair Sandburg and made Jim Ellison wary even as it caused Grissom to quicken his step.
“Greg,” he began, voice breaking on the edge of emotion.
Greg stilled the older man’s movement and apology with a simple hand. Lifted from the door jamb to rest against Grissom’s face, it was almost as if his serenity flowed into a willing vessel.
“Don’t, Gil,” he spoke softly. Blair could barely hear him as they stopped short even though every word was clear for Jim. “He needs you,” Greg continued. “We both do.”
Frowning now, but calmed, Grissom passed the younger man as he stepped aside to permit his entry. Greg looked into the house for a moment, clearly watching the other man’s progress. Then, with a slightly fey smile, he turned to the Sentinel and Guide standing on his front walk.
“Enter my home and be welcome.”
Turning, the doorway was left empty. It was clearly their choice. Blair paused, facing Jim in consultation. “Jim, I don’t know about this… Maybe we should leave.”
“Chief.”
There was something on Jim’s face, something that told Blair this was very important.
“Yeah?”
“That is exactly what Incacha said to me the very first day I was brought to the Chopec village.”
Blair stared at his Sentinel for a moment, the sighed. “What do you think it means?” He may have suspicions of his own, but he wanted to hear the other man’s take on the situation.
“You were passed the Way of the Shaman. Before that, you weren’t…”
“Hey, I always had a mystical connection to the world,” Blair began defensively. “It was you, who…”
Jim stopped the words through the simple expedient of place his hand lightly over Sandburg’s mouth. “Maybe he didn’t pass it to you only because he was dying. Maybe he did so because he knew I couldn’t deal with a situation that required me to tolerate both a Shaman and a Guide.”
Blair’s eyes widened as Jim’s thought moved past what he’d reached and then some. He looked to the house, the door still standing open, then back at Jim. At some point, his Sentinel’s hand had fallen away.
“You really think?”
“There’s one way to find out,” Jim answered.
Together, they crossed to the door. Inside, it closed easily behind them. Oddly, Greg was back to the slightly overly energetic person they’d met before as he followed the traditional rules of hospitality and offered refreshments.
***
“Nick?”
Grissom’s voice was soft. He’d crossed the living space to the bedroom. The door had stood cracked open a slight portion, but instinct had him clicking it closed behind him. Room shrouded in the murky half-light of day and blackout blinds, he hesitated.
“Nick?”
Appearing as if from the shadows themselves, Nick stepped towards him. He was wearing only well-frayed jeans that clung precariously to slim hips. The perverse thought crossed through Grissom’s head that the investigator would never be able to return to work unless he actually started wearing clothing.
“What I did…” Grissom began.
The words faded as Nick stopped close enough to reach out and touch. He did touch, raising his hand to run a thumb across Gil’s lips. The very action demanded silence, which Nick received.
“Why don’t you want me?” Nick asked quietly. It was curiosity, tainted with yearning.
“Of course I…!” Grissom immediately protested. Nearly incoherent with inner conflict, he tried, “but I can’t... I’m not what you need.”
Nick allowed the faintest of grins to cross his face, fading just as quickly as it appeared. “I never imagined that if I was lucky enough to gain my heritage that I would have a Guide who already knew the ways… Think of what we could achieve.”
Grissom’s voice was anguished, his blue eyes pained as he said simply, “Greg?”
It was clear that Nick knew something Gil didn’t. He reached up again, his hand cupping the other man’s head just below his ear along his jaw line. “We both need you.”
“A Sentinel betrayed can lose their senses - completely. I could kill you,” Gil admitted, his eyes falling closed.
Nick had moved closer, the faint gust of breath ghosting over Gil’s lips. “How can you believe that I would ever feel betrayed by my Guide and Shaman together?”
***
Jim twitched in his seat, glancing towards the closed door. He was faintly flushed, even slightly annoyed as the familiar shape of a white noise generator was present at the side of the room.
Greg caught his glance to the piece of equipment and shrugged. “Sorry… I know you’d probably be more comfortable with it on. Nick needs to hear right now. He doesn’t have your control yet. I turn it on and maybe everything goes to hell.”
The young man just shrugged. “I’m not willing to take the chance.”
Blair followed Jim’s looks and his jaw dropped slightly. “They’re in there…” Even with his childhood and lack of most inhibitions, he was unable to complete the sentence. “And you’re okay with that?”
Greg tilted his head curiously. “Actually, I’m rather lucky. There’s no longer a tribal structure to regulate a Sentinel’s contact. Imagine having to share yours with not only another specialist, as it were, but a wife or kids too.”
Blair flinched even as Jim’s hand reached out to slide along his forearm in reassurance.
***
Grissom attempted to focus. Nick’s proximity was immutable. The path of his breath sensitized each nerve as the Sentinel scented along the side of Gil’s face. Turning away, trying to deny this to himself, only served to offer up more skin.
Nick murmured faintly in pleasure, easing his face closer to the available flesh. He could feel the minutest of tremors in Grissom’s body, the change in pace of heart rate, breath. It was all as clear as evidence collected, cataloged, and interpreted for his ease.
“How can you deny this will work?”
Lips brushing along Gil’s jugular deafened him to the actual question being asked. There was nothing but the heavy pounding of his own pulse in his ears and the absolute need not to cause any further damage.
***
“You knew about Sentinels?”
Blair’s question seemed an obvious place to start. They’d been asked here, presumably to help with the sense issue, yet their entire presence had been superfluous so far.
Greg seemed vaguely sheepish. “Nick and I really owe you an apology. We…”
The insistent trill of Jim’s phone interrupted whatever explanation Greg had been about to deliver. Blair’s frustrated glance was countered when Jim saw the caller’s name.
“It’s Simon. I’ll take it outside.”
Only when Jim had moved to the front door and greeted the caller did Blair turn back to Greg. His eyes narrowed slightly as he came to a realization. “You all knew about Sentinels.”
“We each knew what our situations had taught us,” Greg admitted.
“Then why were we called here? Do you have any idea what could happen to all of us if people actually believed in Sentinels?”
Greg’s face closed off. “My Nana and Papa Olaf raised me because my parents are dead. Yes, I understand fully what happens when things like this are revealed.”
Blair winced at the clear pain in the other man’s voice. It was a story he would not, could not in conscience, ask for despite his interests. “Why Jim and I?”
“I knew that Nick was a Sentinel. I’ve always been able to see the skotgatt and the owl. If Grissom needed an outside opinion to acknowledge that, it wasn’t my place to turn such assistance away.”
“Spirit animals?”
Greg shrugged almost sheepishly. For a scientist, it was occasionally difficult to acknowledge the indefinable. However, he was a slightly different kind of scientist. “I wasn’t sure why I could see them before… Until Nick pointed out what my vantage point should have told me. The gyrfalcon, always circling above.”
“Sentinel, Shaman, and Guide,” Blair murmured, questions and answers flickering behind his eyes as he reevaluated his research with a slightly different perspective.
***
Grissom had tried to ease away. His path was blocked by Nick’s hands as the other man leaned over him, bracketing him with arms bunching with twitching muscle groups. The physical demand forced him to meet Nick’s gaze.
Unexpectedly, Nick’s eyes were filled with a combination of command and plea. Gil blinked rapidly, blurring the face before him. “Greg is more than capable of guiding you.”
It was enough of a statement that Nick drew back. His arms dropped to his side and he seemed somehow smaller - defeated. “Then that is your decision?”
***
Jim came back through the front door with an undeniable urgency. “We’re leaving, Chief. Now.”
“Jim…” Blair objected in shock.
“I said now, Blair.” Softening the insistence in his voice, Jim added, “Please.”
As Sandburg turned his confused look from Jim to Greg, their current host merely shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll write down everything I can remember Nana Olaf telling me and send you a copy.”
Blair was really not okay with this potential information source being disrupted. But there was definitely something, a true sense of urgent need, emanating from Jim’s figure. “Since it seems we’re leaving right now,” Blair emphasized in irritation, “I’d appreciate that.”
“Not a problem,” Greg added, standing. “Thank you for being willing to help.”
He followed the former anthropologist to the door. Ellison was already across the yard, reaching inside to start their vehicle. Blair stopped after crossing the threshold, turning back.
“You’ll be okay.”
“We’ll be okay,” Greg confirmed with a sense of surety.
Blair simply nodded, stepping down the path. As Greg closed the door, shielding himself from their visitors, he wished he felt as certain as he knew he had sounded.
tbc
Author: Lakhesis
Pairing: Nick/Greg, Gil/Greg, Gil/Nick, Jim/Blair (Gil/Nick/Greg pre-slash)
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Sterling Dragonfly
Summary: The Sentinel xOver - Nick Stokes’ dormant genetic propensity is brought to full and shining life after Walter Gordon inters him. The repercussions are unpredictable.
Disclaimer: CSI is the property of CBS Broadcasting, Inc. and Alliance-Atlantis Communications. The Sentinel was used and abused by its creators who don’t deserve the naming of their ownership. Nothing was incurred in the creation of this fic other than a little (okay, a lot of) amusement.
***
The car had barely come to a halt when Grissom threw open the door. Blair followed him out, dissatisfied at the distinct lack of information he’d managed to withdraw from the other man, grumbling in a voice pitched for his Sentinel's ears, “Should have used the child lock.”
They trailed behind as Grissom hurried to the front door of the single-level dwelling. When he reached it, the door was already open. It framed Greg Sanders in shadow. In heavy contrast to the nearly frantic urgency of Gil, he waited with a sense of contented peace.
It intrigued Blair Sandburg and made Jim Ellison wary even as it caused Grissom to quicken his step.
“Greg,” he began, voice breaking on the edge of emotion.
Greg stilled the older man’s movement and apology with a simple hand. Lifted from the door jamb to rest against Grissom’s face, it was almost as if his serenity flowed into a willing vessel.
“Don’t, Gil,” he spoke softly. Blair could barely hear him as they stopped short even though every word was clear for Jim. “He needs you,” Greg continued. “We both do.”
Frowning now, but calmed, Grissom passed the younger man as he stepped aside to permit his entry. Greg looked into the house for a moment, clearly watching the other man’s progress. Then, with a slightly fey smile, he turned to the Sentinel and Guide standing on his front walk.
“Enter my home and be welcome.”
Turning, the doorway was left empty. It was clearly their choice. Blair paused, facing Jim in consultation. “Jim, I don’t know about this… Maybe we should leave.”
“Chief.”
There was something on Jim’s face, something that told Blair this was very important.
“Yeah?”
“That is exactly what Incacha said to me the very first day I was brought to the Chopec village.”
Blair stared at his Sentinel for a moment, the sighed. “What do you think it means?” He may have suspicions of his own, but he wanted to hear the other man’s take on the situation.
“You were passed the Way of the Shaman. Before that, you weren’t…”
“Hey, I always had a mystical connection to the world,” Blair began defensively. “It was you, who…”
Jim stopped the words through the simple expedient of place his hand lightly over Sandburg’s mouth. “Maybe he didn’t pass it to you only because he was dying. Maybe he did so because he knew I couldn’t deal with a situation that required me to tolerate both a Shaman and a Guide.”
Blair’s eyes widened as Jim’s thought moved past what he’d reached and then some. He looked to the house, the door still standing open, then back at Jim. At some point, his Sentinel’s hand had fallen away.
“You really think?”
“There’s one way to find out,” Jim answered.
Together, they crossed to the door. Inside, it closed easily behind them. Oddly, Greg was back to the slightly overly energetic person they’d met before as he followed the traditional rules of hospitality and offered refreshments.
***
“Nick?”
Grissom’s voice was soft. He’d crossed the living space to the bedroom. The door had stood cracked open a slight portion, but instinct had him clicking it closed behind him. Room shrouded in the murky half-light of day and blackout blinds, he hesitated.
“Nick?”
Appearing as if from the shadows themselves, Nick stepped towards him. He was wearing only well-frayed jeans that clung precariously to slim hips. The perverse thought crossed through Grissom’s head that the investigator would never be able to return to work unless he actually started wearing clothing.
“What I did…” Grissom began.
The words faded as Nick stopped close enough to reach out and touch. He did touch, raising his hand to run a thumb across Gil’s lips. The very action demanded silence, which Nick received.
“Why don’t you want me?” Nick asked quietly. It was curiosity, tainted with yearning.
“Of course I…!” Grissom immediately protested. Nearly incoherent with inner conflict, he tried, “but I can’t... I’m not what you need.”
Nick allowed the faintest of grins to cross his face, fading just as quickly as it appeared. “I never imagined that if I was lucky enough to gain my heritage that I would have a Guide who already knew the ways… Think of what we could achieve.”
Grissom’s voice was anguished, his blue eyes pained as he said simply, “Greg?”
It was clear that Nick knew something Gil didn’t. He reached up again, his hand cupping the other man’s head just below his ear along his jaw line. “We both need you.”
“A Sentinel betrayed can lose their senses - completely. I could kill you,” Gil admitted, his eyes falling closed.
Nick had moved closer, the faint gust of breath ghosting over Gil’s lips. “How can you believe that I would ever feel betrayed by my Guide and Shaman together?”
***
Jim twitched in his seat, glancing towards the closed door. He was faintly flushed, even slightly annoyed as the familiar shape of a white noise generator was present at the side of the room.
Greg caught his glance to the piece of equipment and shrugged. “Sorry… I know you’d probably be more comfortable with it on. Nick needs to hear right now. He doesn’t have your control yet. I turn it on and maybe everything goes to hell.”
The young man just shrugged. “I’m not willing to take the chance.”
Blair followed Jim’s looks and his jaw dropped slightly. “They’re in there…” Even with his childhood and lack of most inhibitions, he was unable to complete the sentence. “And you’re okay with that?”
Greg tilted his head curiously. “Actually, I’m rather lucky. There’s no longer a tribal structure to regulate a Sentinel’s contact. Imagine having to share yours with not only another specialist, as it were, but a wife or kids too.”
Blair flinched even as Jim’s hand reached out to slide along his forearm in reassurance.
***
Grissom attempted to focus. Nick’s proximity was immutable. The path of his breath sensitized each nerve as the Sentinel scented along the side of Gil’s face. Turning away, trying to deny this to himself, only served to offer up more skin.
Nick murmured faintly in pleasure, easing his face closer to the available flesh. He could feel the minutest of tremors in Grissom’s body, the change in pace of heart rate, breath. It was all as clear as evidence collected, cataloged, and interpreted for his ease.
“How can you deny this will work?”
Lips brushing along Gil’s jugular deafened him to the actual question being asked. There was nothing but the heavy pounding of his own pulse in his ears and the absolute need not to cause any further damage.
***
“You knew about Sentinels?”
Blair’s question seemed an obvious place to start. They’d been asked here, presumably to help with the sense issue, yet their entire presence had been superfluous so far.
Greg seemed vaguely sheepish. “Nick and I really owe you an apology. We…”
The insistent trill of Jim’s phone interrupted whatever explanation Greg had been about to deliver. Blair’s frustrated glance was countered when Jim saw the caller’s name.
“It’s Simon. I’ll take it outside.”
Only when Jim had moved to the front door and greeted the caller did Blair turn back to Greg. His eyes narrowed slightly as he came to a realization. “You all knew about Sentinels.”
“We each knew what our situations had taught us,” Greg admitted.
“Then why were we called here? Do you have any idea what could happen to all of us if people actually believed in Sentinels?”
Greg’s face closed off. “My Nana and Papa Olaf raised me because my parents are dead. Yes, I understand fully what happens when things like this are revealed.”
Blair winced at the clear pain in the other man’s voice. It was a story he would not, could not in conscience, ask for despite his interests. “Why Jim and I?”
“I knew that Nick was a Sentinel. I’ve always been able to see the skotgatt and the owl. If Grissom needed an outside opinion to acknowledge that, it wasn’t my place to turn such assistance away.”
“Spirit animals?”
Greg shrugged almost sheepishly. For a scientist, it was occasionally difficult to acknowledge the indefinable. However, he was a slightly different kind of scientist. “I wasn’t sure why I could see them before… Until Nick pointed out what my vantage point should have told me. The gyrfalcon, always circling above.”
“Sentinel, Shaman, and Guide,” Blair murmured, questions and answers flickering behind his eyes as he reevaluated his research with a slightly different perspective.
***
Grissom had tried to ease away. His path was blocked by Nick’s hands as the other man leaned over him, bracketing him with arms bunching with twitching muscle groups. The physical demand forced him to meet Nick’s gaze.
Unexpectedly, Nick’s eyes were filled with a combination of command and plea. Gil blinked rapidly, blurring the face before him. “Greg is more than capable of guiding you.”
It was enough of a statement that Nick drew back. His arms dropped to his side and he seemed somehow smaller - defeated. “Then that is your decision?”
***
Jim came back through the front door with an undeniable urgency. “We’re leaving, Chief. Now.”
“Jim…” Blair objected in shock.
“I said now, Blair.” Softening the insistence in his voice, Jim added, “Please.”
As Sandburg turned his confused look from Jim to Greg, their current host merely shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll write down everything I can remember Nana Olaf telling me and send you a copy.”
Blair was really not okay with this potential information source being disrupted. But there was definitely something, a true sense of urgent need, emanating from Jim’s figure. “Since it seems we’re leaving right now,” Blair emphasized in irritation, “I’d appreciate that.”
“Not a problem,” Greg added, standing. “Thank you for being willing to help.”
He followed the former anthropologist to the door. Ellison was already across the yard, reaching inside to start their vehicle. Blair stopped after crossing the threshold, turning back.
“You’ll be okay.”
“We’ll be okay,” Greg confirmed with a sense of surety.
Blair simply nodded, stepping down the path. As Greg closed the door, shielding himself from their visitors, he wished he felt as certain as he knew he had sounded.
tbc