WARNINGS - this story is set post-rape. details of
the attack are revealed by the evidence and the victim's
memories. there are no relived details delivered in the story -
no flashbacks. if you're worried, mail me. this is a more a
classic H/C fanfic.
"THESE ARE SLASH STORIES
- THAT MEANS TWO MEN IN ROMANTIC &/or SEXUAL SITUATIONS!"
Driftwood
elfin
The CSI nightshift team looked up as Brass stepped into the break room.
Jim glanced at each of them individually. “I’ve called in a
couple of Ecklie’s team. I want you all at the Oasis Hotel.”
Warrick’s brows almost knitted as he frowned. “Why?”
Nick spoke up. “Where’s Grissom?”
Brass hesitated. “Your boss is over at Desert Palm. I need
you to go and speak to him, Nick. He’s the one that called in the
crime scene. He’s our vic.”
~
Nick drove to the hospital with his heart pounding against his
chest. Brass didn’t have very many details, just that they’d been
called to a room at the Desert Palm. Grissom had made the call on
his cell phone and had been found in the room, unconscious and naked on
the floor by the bed, his cell still clutched in his hand.
Following the doctor’s directions, Nick pushed open the door of the
small examination room to be greeted by the unmistakable sounds of
harsh vomiting.
“Gil?”
Closing the door, Nick placed his field kit on the floor and waited
until he heard the muffled flush of a toilet. Grissom came
padding out of the tiny bathroom at the back of the room, glanced at
Nick and managed a small,
wry smile.
“You want a doctor?” Nick could think of a million things he
wanted to say but that was the only one that had seemed
appropriate. Grissom looked painfully vulnerable in the blue
hospital gown, deathly pale.
“No. Thanks.” He sat on the bed, looking as if he just
wanted to lie down and sleep. “It’s the flunitrazepam.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “Flunitrazepam? Rohypnol?”
Gil looked up at him, surprised. “Have you spoken to the doctor?”
“Only to ask where you were.” To demand to know, more like.
He hadn’t listened to anything the doctor had tried to tell him.
Now
it seemed he was going to get bawled out by his boss despite the
situation.
But Grissom only closed his eyes, swaying slightly. Nick moved
quickly, reaching out to steady Gil. And he noticed the bandages
on the man’s forearms.
“Want to tell me what happened?”
“Want to run the rape kit so I can have a shower?”
Nick felt suddenly nauseous. Rape. Of course.
Rohypnol in his system. Under any other circumstances he’d have
been ashamed of his own lack of perception.
Gil covered the trembling hand on his shoulder with his own cold,
sweaty palm. “I know the routine, Nicky, it’s okay.”
“Are you…. You sure you don’t want someone else…?” Nick
didn’t know if he was asking for his own sake or for Grissom’s.
“Rather you than Catherine or Sara,” Gil quipped, and Nick couldn’t
believe how calm he sounded, even with the tremor underlying his
usually confident voice. “I got the doctor to swab my scratches
before she dressed them,” he lifted his arms. “I can help,
Nick. Just go gently, okay?”
Nick took swabs and samples. There were bodily fluids on Gil’s
skin and, despite the patchy loss of memory caused by the drug he’d
unknowingly taken, he was convinced that only some of the blood was his
own.
Photos of bruising coming out on Grissom’s back would show fingerprints
in livid purple marking the smooth skin around his shoulders and neck.
An anal examination told Nick that Gil had been raped by a man wearing
a condom. But at the same time, there were dried flakes on Gil’s
penis that was apparently virginal fluid.
Even with the vic’s help the exam took over an hour. The longer
it went on the more distressed Gil became and Nick could only try to
reassure. But as soon as it was over he padded off to find a
shower.
Desperately needing some fresh air Nick stepped outside and called
Catherine. He wanted her to pick up the samples from him and take
them back to the lab. She offered to stop by Gil’s townhouse and
pick up some clothes for the boss, Nick was relieved one of them was
still thinking straight.
When she’d hung up the call he stood staring at nothing and trying to
forget what he’d just done.
He’d yearned to run his hands over Gil’s body for as long as he’d known
the man. Tonight wasn’t what he’d had in mind.
He’d spent many sleepless days imagining what his boss would look like
lying naked before him. Having Grissom lying still during a rape
kit examination was a brutal perversion of his fantasies.
He wanted to break down, scream at the injustice. He briefly
imagined getting his bare hands around the throat of the man who’d
taken what he’d been so close to asking for on more occasions he could
count.
But the woman….
It didn’t take a trained detective to put the pieces together.
Nick thought it through. Gil going to a bar for an early-evening
drink, maybe
a meal, before his shift started. Approached by a beautiful woman
who
started chatting to him, dropped a pill into his drink while he was
looking at her, giving her the benefit of that incredible intensity he
extended to everyone, alive and dead. As the drug kicked in, she
easily seduced him into leaving with her, trusting her as far as he
could, far from aware of what he was walking into.
Had the boyfriend been waiting in the hotel room? Had he been in
the bar watching? Had Gil been happy to have sex with the woman
who’d coerced him into bed, blissfully ignorant of the brutal attack
from behind until it
came?
Nick didn’t want to think too long about that.
Not wanting to leave Gil alone for too long he made his way back
through reception and the waiting area to the examination room.
He was surprised to see the doctor he’d spoken to earlier standing next
to the bed on which Gil was lying, curled up under a blanket,
apparently asleep.
There was a towel on the floor and wet, blood-spotted bandages in a
dish on the trolley against the wall.
“He took a shower,” the doctor told him, mild irritating in her voice.
Nick nodded. “It’s okay, I’d finished the kit.”
“He got his bandages wet then complained when it hurt.”
Feeling the strangest urge to laugh Nick walked around to the other
side of the bed and watched as the doctor applied fresh bandages to the
sleeping man’s arms. He didn’t even twitch when the material was
wrapped over his dressed wounds.
“Are they deep?”
“Yes. I’ve seen injuries like them before and I’d make a guess at
fingernails.”
He didn’t feel like laughing any longer.
Defensive wounds. Held down, sandwiched between the women he was
fucking and his rapist, drugged but still understanding what was
happening to him, Gil had struggled, fought.
Instinctively, Nick brushed his hand over the damp head of hair,
fingertips stroking the salt and pepper curls.
“Apart from those, is he okay?”
The doctor looked at Nick for a long time. “He’s been drugged and
raped. His system’s reacting badly to the flunitrazepam, he’s
been
sick several times and should watch what he eats and drinks for a
couple
of days. The drug will stay in his blood stream for around six
months.
The memories, although hazy, will be in his mind for the rest of his
life.
So, no, he isn’t okay.”
“We’re going to take care of him.”
She studied him for another few seconds and nodded approvingly.
“In that case you can take him home when he wakes. But he isn’t
to be left alone for forty-eight hours and isn’t to drive for
seventy-two. Any worrying side-effects he comes straight back
here, agreed?”
“Agreed.”
~
Nick started at the quiet knock on the door. He lifted his hand
from where it lay covering Gil’s on the mattress and stood, opening the
door.
“Catherine.”
She stepped past him and he closed the door almost silently, taking the
sports bag she was holding out. “Clothes,” she whispered.
“Thanks.” He indicated the two thick brown bags on the trolley
behind him. “Evidence.”
She nodded. “How is he?”
“Let’s do this in the corridor.”
“You don’t have to.” They turned, surprised to see blurred blue
eyes watching them, head lifted from the pillow.
Catherine smiled at him. “Hey, how’re you doing?”
He hesitated for a moment before moving. “I feel sick.”
Clambering off the bed he just made it to the toilet before retching
nothing but stomach acid.
Nick glanced at Catherine. “I’m taking him home and staying with
him until…”
“…until he gets restless and demands then pleads with you to drive him
to the lab.”
“Exactly.”
She grabbed the two evidence bags. “I’ll speak to you later.”
Gil appeared from the bathroom just after she’d left and Nick had the
vague impression that he’d waited for her to go. But he didn’t
mention it.
“Nicky, I want to go home.”
Handing him the bag Catherine had bought, he nodded. “I’ll take
you and I’ll stay with you.”
“You don’t have to….”
“No arguments, Gris. Doctor’s orders.”
~
Nick called Catherine two hours later.
“He fell asleep on the journey from the hospital. I practically
carried him into the house and dumped him on the bed.”
In actuality, he’d woken Gil gently in the Tahoe when they’d reached
his townhouse. Helping him out of the SUV Nick had had an arm
around him to steady him by the time they’d reached the door.
Catherine had put Grissom’s keys and wallet with the clothes she’d
brought to the hospital. Both had been found in his brown suede
jacket that had been bagged as evidence at the crime scene.
Nick had relaxed his hold when they’d stepped into the house and Gil
had bolted for the en-suite off his bedroom. Five minutes later
when Nick had checked on him he’d been sitting on the floor next to the
toilet, completely wiped out.
Filling a glass, Nick had gotten Gil to take a couple of sips of water
before helping him back into the bedroom and undressing him. Gil
had crawled under the duvet and fallen asleep before his head hit the
pillow.
“I’m not surprised,” Catherine’s voice told him over the phone.
“He’s got twice the usual dose of flunitrazepam in his blood.”
“God.” Nick closed his eyes, feeling the emotions and being
unable to give them any release right now. “What about the crime
scene?”
“Evidence heaven.” There was a sorrow in her voice that touched
Nick deep. “Fibres, fluids and prints everywhere.”
“They didn’t expect it to be a crime scene.”
“Didn’t expect their vic to call it in. Nick, we need to know
what happened.”
“I know. The doc said not to expect too much. One side
affect of Rohypnol is black outs. He knows what happened to him
but I don’t know how much he’ll actually remember.”
“Let’s hope it’s very little,” she murmured, almost too softly for Nick
to hear. But he was thinking the same.
~
“Sara?”
Warrick tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped. “Jesus!
Warrick….”
“You ok?”
She looked back at the messy double bed from which they’d taken any
number of hairs and skin flakes, swabs of blood, vaginal and seminal
fluids. She shook her head.
“He’s gonna be okay,” Warrick tried to reassure. “Nick’ll make
sure of it.”
He missed her frown as he packed his field kit up.
“You going to call it?”
Warrick didn’t hesitate. “No. I can’t. It’s Gris, for
God’s sake. I don’t even want to imagine.”
“One of us has to.” Stepping around the bed, she took a deep
breath. “The boyfriend’s waiting for them when they arrive.
Grissom….” She swallowed hard. “Grissom’s out of it, just
going along with her.”
“Maybe…” Warrick interrupted, “maybe at that point he wanted it.”
She turned on him. “What?”
“Hey, he’s a living, breathing male, Sara! Even Grissom must get
the urge now and again! Beautiful woman chats him up in a bar,
offers him no-strings-attached sex.”
“You really see him as the one-night-stand type?”
Warrick shrugged. “Rohypnol lowers the victim’s inhibitions,
makes them more susceptible to suggestion. Who knows when he last
did it. She brings him here, makes him feel good. The
drug’s kicking in full force and he’s starting to lose it, maybe
blacking out.”
His brain was running on auto now, doing what he did best.
Calling it as he saw it. “She’s still encouraging him, undressing
him, undressing herself. Despite the drug he’s managed to get it
up; he’s pressed up against a gorgeous woman’s naked body, a guy’s dick
has a mind of its own.”
Sara looked at him and picked up the thread. “But sex with her
isn’t why she’s hooked him.” An expression of horror dawned on
her face. “She’s brought him here for her boyfriend.”
“Bitch.” Warrick spat the word out. “And while Grissom’s
buried in her…”
“…over comes the other guy, climbs on top and…”
“…rapes him.”
“Oh, God.”
“He starts to fight. I’ll bet a dick up the ass is a massive jolt
to the brain. Hurts like fuck. Grissom isn’t one to give it
up
easily. Maybe having his victim fighting turned this guy on,
maybe
Gris blacked out and the guy finished before they left. Maybe
they
ran and he wasn’t able to give chase. He managed to get to his
jacket,
find his cell phone and call 911.”
Blinking tears from her eyes, Sara reached for Warrick’s hand and
squeezed it. “Let’s get the evidence back to the lab.”
~
Dozing on the brown leather couch, Nick was woken by a knocking at the
front door. He checked on Gil quickly before he answered it; his
ward was still sleeping soundly.
Brass was shifting from foot to foot on the doorstep. “Hi….
What’s up?”
Jim smiled. “Just wanted to check on Gil.” Slightly
confused, Nick nodded, stepped back and let the cop into his boss’
house. “How’s he doing?”
Brass crossed to the armchair and sat down, looking comfortable here.
“He’s sleeping.” Nick watched the Homicide Captain, investigative
brain working over time as he dropped back to the couch. “He’s
reacting
badly to the drug, can barely keep a glass of water down.”
Brass’ expression was one of empathy. “He’s never been great with
drugs. I remember his first and probably only encounter with
Cannabis.”
He chuckled affectionately to himself. “One joint and he was
throwing up twenty seconds later.”
Nick was surprised. “You’ve known him a long time?”
“We go way back. Shows you how close Gil lets people get, doesn’t
it?”
“Yeah.” He thought about that. He was closer to Warrick
than Grissom seemed to be to Brass and he’d only known the guy a couple
of years.
“In all the time I’ve known him,” Jim was continuing, “I’ve never known
him pick up a woman in a bar.”
Nick took in the statement. “He was drugged. Rohypnol – the
date rape drug.”
“’Roofies’, I know. But still, there’s something that doesn’t
feel right. I had a beer with him last week, after that double
you guys pulled
because of the drive-by?” Nick nodded. He remembered going
home
and sleeping for a straight twelve hours after that one. “He
wasn’t…. He said….” Jim stumbled over the words, obviously
uncertain whether he should say them at all.
“We need to know,” Nick prompted. “Chances are he won’t remember
what happened tonight. We need to know anything that will help us
find these people.”
Jim nodded. “But it’s between you, me and Gil, Nicky. This
can’t go any further.”
“Sure.”
“He told me that there was – is – someone he’s very attracted to.
And this someone’s a man.”
Nick’s mouth fell open. “Who?”
“Oh no, there is no way I’m breaking that kind of confidence.”
“But he might have had something….”
Brass was shaking his head. “No. You can be very certain
that he had nothing to do with this.”
“You know him? Are they… involved?”
“Yes and no. I know him. And he has no idea how Gil
feels. Never will I suspect.” But Nick thought he saw
something in Brass’ eyes,
a moment of humour aimed directly at him. “Or maybe… maybe he
will
one day. Might even feel the same way.” He sighed. “I
should
go. Give him my love, okay?”
“Sure.” Nick followed Brass to the door.
“You’re staying with him?”
“Doctor said not to leave him alone for two days.”
Jim nodded. “He might need longer than that. Keep an eye on
him, he’s not great at admitting he needs support.”
Touched, Nick promised he would. Reassured, Brass left.
Closing the door, leaning back against it, Nick lost himself in thought.
“Nicky?”
His head snapped up. Gil was standing in the door of the living
room wrapped in a deep blue towelling robe.
“Hey, you’re awake.”
“And you’re still here.”
Nick nodded. “I told you, doctor’s orders.”
A flicker of something – disappointment? – danced over Gil’s features
but he just nodded and turned, heading for the open-plan kitchen.
Biting his bottom lip, thinking about what Brass had said, Nick
followed.
“Gil?” Gris was filling his glass from the tap in the kitchen and
Nick approached cautiously. “Gil.” No reaction.
Stepping
close, he reached out, stroking a trembling thumb over the nape of
Gil’s
neck.
Grissom leapt about three feet, dropping the glass, jumping again when
it shattered inches from his bare feet.
“Christ, Gil! Over-reaction!” Nick met the suddenly
terrified blue gaze. “You didn’t hear me, did you?” he realised
belatedly.
“No….” He trailed off.
They stared at one another awkwardly for a minute.
“Go back to bed, I’ll clear this up and bring you a drink, okay?”
A little perturbed, Gil nodded and for once in his life did as he was
told.
Nick cleared up the glass and took another from the cupboard, filling
it, finding some ice in the freezer.
Gil was sitting up against the pillows, expression one of complete
misery.
“Here you go.”
Nick handed him the glass and he took it gratefully, sipping the water
cautiously.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Listen, I’m sorry about back there.”
But Gil shook his head. “My fault.”
“You didn’t hear me.”
“I’m going deaf.” Nick stared. “My doctor keeps talking
about surgery but…” he shrugged, “I hate hospitals.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
Slowly, Nick sat himself down on the edge of the bed. For a few
long seconds he stayed silent, then he smiled. “I’ll teach the
others to sign.”
Gil frowned. “You sign?”
//Yes//
“Why?”
“It seemed a good idea when I was a cop. Just another way to
communicate with people.” As Nick watched a tentative smile touch
Gil’s lips, he thought it had all been worth it. “If you want to
talk about it anytime,” //I’m here//
//Thank you//
Nick grinned but it faded when Gil suddenly pushed the glass back into
his hands and made a dash from the bed to the en-suite.
Nick sighed to himself. He waited until the terrible, harsh
retching sounds abated before going in to check on his ward.
“Oh, Gil….”
Grissom was sitting on the cold tiled floor, legs tucked under him,
bandaged arms crossed on the edge of the toilet bowl, head lying on
them. He was sweating and shaking, clearly distressed.
Reaching over him, Nick flushed the toilet. Then he crouched down
and held the glass to Gil’s lips. “Don’t swallow it, just rinse
and
spit.”
Taking the glass, barely managing to keep his grip on it, Gil took a
couple of sips, swilled his mouth out and spat it into the bowl.
Nick took the water back and offered some toilet paper. Wiping
his mouth, blowing his nose, Gil threw that into the bowl disgustedly
and Nick flushed again.
“You don’t have to do this,” Grissom told his would-be nurse wretchedly.
“Shut up and let me take care of you for once.” He smiled gently
when miserable blue eyes glanced up at him. “Back to bed?”
While Gil made his way back into the bedroom, Nick found a flannel and
soaked it under the cold tap. Squeezing out the excess water he
took it and the glass with him.
His patient had settled back under the duvet, still wrapped in his
towelling robe, and curled onto his side.
Placing the glass onto the bedside cabinet, Nick sat on the edge of the
bed and held the flannel to Gil’s forehead.
Some of the tension in the man’s shoulders eased slightly.
“You’re running a temperature,” he said quietly. “Hardly
surprising but you’ll feel better once it comes down.”
“The crime scene….” But the words were slightly slurred and Gil’s
eyes were closed.
“Your team’s working it, Gris. We’ll get the bastards that did
this to you, believe me. Everyone’s very motivated.”
Nick watched, worried, as Gil seemed to curl up further still before
falling into a restless sleep.
~
Warrick glanced into the Break Room where Sara was asleep on one of the
couches before joining Catherine and Greg in the DNA lab.
“What have you got?” he asked, not really sure he wanted to know this
time.
Greg was subdued as he gave them the results.
“All of the blood swabbed at the scene is Grissom’s. It contains
traces of excrement and latex.”
Catherine leaned heavily against the work surface. “From anal
injuries.”
“Yes. I ran DNA from the semen and vaginal fluid found at the
scene through CODIS and came up with nothing.”
“Is any of the semen….” She trailed off, realising she didn’t
want to ask. Didn’t want to know.
“No,” Greg stated with some relief. “None of it matches Grissom’s
DNA. In fact, knowing the effects of roofies and knowing how much
Gris
had in his blood, I was surprised he managed to get it up long enough
to
get her fluids on it.”
“Ugh,” Warrick frowned. “Please. There is such a thing as
too much information.”
Catherine shook her head. “Not in this lab there isn’t.”
“Sorry guys but I need something to match it to,” Greg told them.
Nodding, Catherine stood up straight. “I’ll go speak to
Gil. You two go home, get some sleep. Tell Sara to do the
same. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
~
Nick woke mid-afternoon, lying still for a moment, trying to work out
where he was.
Sunlight was streaming in through a strange, high window. He was
still in his T-shirt and boxers, not how he usually slept, lying on a
large double bed covered by a white duvet.
He slowly became aware of quiet voices, one male, one female. And
he remembered.
Gil. The hospital. Coming back here to his boss’
townhouse. Looking after him because he’d been raped.
By a man and a woman.
Nick shot out of the bed, following the voices through into the living
room, stopping just inside the doorway. “Gris?”
Gil was sitting in one corner of his couch, dressed in loose black
pants and a thick black shirt, sleeves rolled up past the bandages on
his arms.
Catherine was sitting opposite him.
They were talking softly when Nick burst in on them.
“Hey, Nicky. I didn’t want to wake you.” Gil looked better
than he had a couple of hours ago but he hadn’t regained much colour.
“You ok?”
Catherine smiled to herself at Nick’s innate protectiveness.
“Yeah. Catherine just came over to ask me a couple of questions.”
Nick bristled, but he’d known that one of them would have to ask
eventually. He was glad it wasn’t Sara, glad it was someone who
wouldn’t let Gil see her
own distress. He had enough to deal with right now without having
to
comfort his team.
“Anything from the scene?”
Catherine nodded. “DNA, lots of it. But Greg hasn’t been
able to find a match.”
“Have you even slept?” Gil asked her.
She smiled at him. “Couple of hours. Now are you going to
answer my questions or not?” She kept her voice light, teasing,
and Nick guessed that they’d been talking for some time, side-stepping
the real issue of what he remembered about the rape.
Nick shifted. “Want me to leave?”
“No.” Gil gazed at him for a moment. “You could put some
pants on though.”
Dressed, he settled in the armchair, not saying a word while Gil tried
to relay what little he could remember.
“I went to the Sunshine Bar for an espresso before the shift
started. I sat in the window and started to read the paper.
A woman approached me, asked me… if I had a light. I apologised,
said I didn’t smoke. She made some comment about every man
carrying a lighter and sat down… I can’t
remember what she said, what I said to encourage her. And then… I
don’t
remember how I got to the hotel room. I knew that someone was
undressing
me, touching me, and it… it felt good, I think.” He paused,
linking
his fingers in his lap.
“It’s like a dream when you only remember sensations and
emotions. It was good until….” He drew in a trembling
breath. “…until I felt someone behind me. He… knelt on the
bed and lay on my back.” Gil stumbled over the words but forced
himself to continue. “He was so strong… I was
trapped. There were hands on my shoulders, gripping hard.
And then it came….”
“What did?” Catherine asked gently, her tone apologetic.
“Something large in my ass, so much larger than a fucking
finger.” A tear streaked over his cheek and he swiped at
it. “I tried to get away but I couldn’t move him off me. I
think I started to attack the woman beneath me but I don’t remember
getting the scratches.”
Catherine reached across the space between them and took a hold of one
of Gil’s hands, squeezing gently.
“We found semen at the scene but none on the swab we took from
you. We found the condom too. I would say your attacker
panicked as soon as he’d climaxed. He discarded it on the floor,
they dressed and ran.”
“I don’t remember them leaving but I remember calling 911. I
could see my jacket on the chair. I remember seeing it there and
focusing on it, getting to it, hoping my cell phone would still be
there.”
“They didn’t rob you, didn’t take anything material from you. All
your credit cards and about fifty dollars were still in your
wallet.
No fingerprints other than your own.”
Gil dropped his head against the back of the couch and closed his
eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep trying.”
Catherine stroked his hand with her thumb. “Maybe it’s best that
you don’t remember.”
More tears escaped from the closed eyes and for a few minutes the three
of them sat silently, Nick and Catherine hoping Gil would draw strength
from them, would allow them to help him through this.
After a short while Gil took a deep breath and sat up, wiping his eyes
with the back of his hand.
“I’m coming in tonight.” He said it as if he expected an argument
but he didn’t get one. The only thing for him now was to work,
and
both Nick and Catherine understood that.
“I’ll drive you,” Nick told him, ready with the ‘doctor’s orders’
excuse should he need it. But he didn’t. Gil just nodded
and got to his
feet, vanishing into the bedroom. A couple of minutes later they
heard
the muffled sounds of a shower.
Nick rolled his eyes. “Bet he gets his bandages wet again.
Lucky the doctor dumped a load of clean ones on me before we let the
hospital.” Catherine smiled knowingly. “Want a
coffee? I think I’ve just about worked out his espresso machine.”
~
The evening found Catherine issuing the night shift workload to
Grissom’s team.
“DB over at the Paris. Sara, Warrick… sorry guys but you’re up
again.”
Sara stood from her perch on the arm of the couch. “What about
the attack?”
“Nick and I’ll take it from here. Teri’s coming in to work with
Grissom on getting a couple of computer sketches of his attackers, Nick
wants to be
here for that. Greg’s still working on the evidence,” Greg
nodded, “seeing
if he can get anything from Grissom’s clothes and the other stuff you
brought
in from the scene. It was excellent work.” She watched
Sara’s
shoulders slump. “Gris is coming in tonight. Don’t treat
him
any differently but be aware that he’s still sick from the drug.”
Warrick nodded. “We’ll go easy, don’t worry. I can’t even
imagine being where he is now.”
All four of them looked up when the glass door opened. Gil
stepped into the room, Nick close behind him.
“Hey.” Warrick’s slap of his shoulders, Sara’s happy smile,
Greg’s embarrassed grin and shrug of his shoulders. Gil almost
crumpled under the team’s welcome. But he felt Nick behind him,
Nick’s hand gently against the small of his back. His anchor.
Even so, eventually Gil felt the need to escape.
“I’ll… be in my office,” he muttered, backing out of the room and
fleeing.
The others dissipated, leaving Nick and Catherine alone.
“So much for going easy,” she muttered to him. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“At least when he looks back on it, he’ll realise how much they adore
him.”
~
Sara and Warrick ducked under the yellow tape into the hotel room.
The vic was lying face down on the bed, naked.
“Money on the table here,” Sara counted it. “Two hundred
bucks. Prostitute?”
“A prostitute who leaves without her payment?”
“Maybe he wasn’t the client.”
“Ah.”
Warrick took photographs while Sara lifted samples.
“Why is Nick suddenly acting like Grissom’s keeper?” she asked casually
after a few minutes silence.
He looked up, confused. “What?”
“This protective, ‘taking care of the boss’ routine?”
Lowering the camera, Warrick stared at her across the room. “Have
you any idea of what that guy did to Grissom? Is it even possible
for
a woman to understand the sanctity of a guy’s ass?”
“Hey, I understand the emotions connected with rape, okay?”
Warrick shook his head. “A-a. No. I said, with a
guy’s ass. Unless you’re gay, nothing goes in except for a
doctor’s finger once a year and then it’s lubricated, latexed and
excruciatingly clinical. And after every annual medical, I get in
my 4x4, drive over the speed limit to the firing range and blow off a
few rounds, imaging the doctor’s head in
the centre of each target. Buried under the pain in Grissom’s
eyes is
the rage. Nick will stay around until that’s released. It’s
the
only way to ensure Gil doesn’t hurt himself or someone else.”
There was no response to that. Sara went back to work.
~
“Nick?”
He turned from the computer screen. “Teri…. Good to see you
again.”
“You too. I’m looking for Gil….”
“Ah. Yeah.” He flicked off the screen and pushed back his
chair. “Come with me.”
Teri followed him out of the Trace lab and along the corridor.
“Reception said he was waiting in his office for me. Something
about a computer sketch?”
Nick stopped in mid-stride. “You don’t know what happened?”
“What happened when?”
~
Nick joined Gil in the garage where he was pulling prints from a jeep
that dayshift had towed in.
Big blue eyes followed him as he sat down on the work surface next to
his boss.
“No sign of Teri?”
Nick sighed, hating to do this. Teri had left an hour ago and
he’d had to walk off his anger before he had been able to face Gil.
“She’s gone.”
The first stirrings of hurt flashed into the stormy depths.
“Gone?” He struggled to keep his voice steady. “She didn’t
forget anything did
she?”
“No. I’m sorry, Gil. She… she said she didn’t want to be
the one to recreate your nightmares. She’s sending a sketch
artist over in a couple of hours.”
Grissom sighed, pressing the heels of his palms into his tired
eyes. “She’d wouldn’t have been recreating my nightmares, she’d
have been helping me banish them.”
“I know. We’ll get them, I promise you.”
Nodding, Gil picked up the latex gloves from the table and snapped them
on. Without another word he went back to the jeep, doing what he
knew
best.
Nick watched him for a few minutes then left him to it.
~
Gil worked for two hours before deciding he was obsessing.
Carefully gathering all the prints he’d found around the jeep, he
junked the gloves and wondered over to the DNA lab where Greg was
sitting staring into a microscope. There was no music playing and
that in itself was unusual.
“Greg?”
The young man looked up. “Hi boss.”
“Hi. Got anything interesting?”
He nodded. “The samples from the DB over at the Paris. I
found a match. I was about to let Sara and Warrick know.”
He hesitated. “And Nick and Catherine.”
Gil frowned. “Why?”
“The vic at the Paris was attacked by the same two people who attacked
you.”
Gil leaned forward and grabbed the edge of the work surface.
“Grissom? You okay?”
“Oh God….”
“Gris….”
Gil launched himself at the sink in the corner while Greg leaned out
into the corridor and shouted, “Nick!”
The note of panic in Greg’s voice brought Nick running from the Trace
lab. “What?” But the question was moot the moment it was
out. Gil threw
up loudly into the rinsing sink.
Nick was at his side immediately. Hand on his back, rubbing
gently. “Wasn’t aware you had anything left in there,” he
muttered. Gil shook his head slowly, groaning softly.
“Okay. It’s okay.”
He glanced back at Greg, who looked like he desperately needed
something to do.
“Glass of water?”
Greg nodded quickly and ran off to the Break room.
Gripping the edge of the sink until his arms trembled, Gil took several
deep breaths to control the painful retching. He concentrated on
the
warmth of Nick’s hand on his back and Nick’s words murmured quietly in
comfort
and reassurance.
He heard Greg come back and a moment later the cool rim of a glass was
placed against his lips.
“Don’t swallow,” Nick whispered to him, “not for a couple of minutes,
okay?”
Gil took a couple of sips, rinsed his mouth and spat it out.
“Thanks,” he murmured shakily, easing himself back to stand up,
dropping carefully onto a chair that Nick fetched.
“What brought it on?”
“I did.” Greg sounded incredibly apologetic and immediately Gil
leapt to his defence.
“Hey, no, you just did your job. I reacted badly.”
“What did he say?”
Greg hesitated. But Gil encouraged him. “It’s okay, Greg.”
“I pulled DNA from the samples Sara and Warrick collected from the DB
scene at the Paris. There’s a match with the DNA from Gris’ crime
scene. The same people who attacked Grissom raped and very
probably killed the vic from tonight’s scene.”
“Oh, God.”
Catherine stepped into the lab and looked around. “Is everyone
okay?”
Gil nodded. “Where are Sara and Warrick?”
“At the vic’s home. They found his wallet at his crime scene.”
“We need to see the body.”
“Why us?”
“Because we’re all after the same perps.”
~
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nick asked for the third time in
ten minutes.
Grissom looked sideways at him. “Yes.”
“Okay,” Catherine told him, “but don’t chuck up over our corpse.”
It earned her a smack on the arm.
When they stepped into the mortuary, Dr Robbins gave Grissom a long
once-over.
“Scared the shit out of me, Gil,” he said frankly. “It could have
been you on this slab. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
Message delivered, he cleared his throat and turned to uncover the body
from the hotel.
“James Letts, 43, local. Lived in Circus Park, worked at the
Paris as a slot host.”
“How was he killed?”
“No obvious fatal wounds so I’m waiting for the tox report.”
Gil blanched. “You think he died of an overdose.”
“Or an allergic reaction.”
“To flunitrazepam.”
Nick turned away, shaking his head. “They upped the dose.”
“After I fought back.” Gil bit his lip. “They killed a man
because of it.”
“Hey, this isn’t down to you,” Catherine reminded him. “It was
your right, your duty to fight back so no guilt trips.” She gazed
at him, expression softening. Reaching out to squeeze his
shoulder, she added, “Never apologise for surviving.”
Nick watched the scene with a smile. Dr Robbins simply gave them
the time they needed before continuing.
“You okay to carry on?” Nick asked Gris quietly, just as the
pathologist opened his mouth.
Gil ignored him. “Was he raped?”
“Yes. But this time there is semen present in the rectum. I
think the condom split. Interestingly, our vic here wasn’t
wearing
a condom.”
Catherine processed that, trying to keep her thoughts based on the dead
man in front of her and not on the live warmth of the man standing next
to
her.
“So we have two people, a man who always wears a condom and a woman who
doesn’t care if her lover does or doesn’t.”
Nick felt Gil stiffen at his side. “Gris?” But the blue eyes were
pinned on Dr Robbins.
“Is she…. Am I?”
The doctor shook his head. “I’d recommend another test in six
months but no, she’s not and you’re not. I sent your blood off,
spent some more of your annual budget but it came back negative.”
Gil nodded, obviously relieved. But something else was creeping
in.
Concerned, Nick touched his arm. “Come on, Gris.”
“I’m fine.” His harsh tone surprised them all.
“Gil,” Robbins stood back. “Enough.”
Shaking his head, Gil turned, slamming open the door with the palm of
his hand and exploding out into the corridor. With a glance at
the others, Nick followed.
Catherine and Robbins waited until the two men had left.
Catherine couldn’t remember seeing Gil so off-balance before. She
considered the
man a friend as well as a colleague. Sure they got at one
another, ribbed
one another, bitched at one another. But she loved him dearly and
someone
– two someones – had hurt him badly.
She wasn’t going to rest until they were caught.
“Anything else for me before I hit the caffeine?”
~
Out in the corridor Gil smashed the palm of his hand into the opposite
wall.
"Gris?" Stepping out of the lab, letting the double doors close
behind him, Nick reached out, touched his boss on the shoulder.
Gil had allowed so much contact in the last twenty-four hours.
But this time he was shaken off. Desperate to help, he begged,
“Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
Grissom spun, eyes flashing as he bore down on Nick until the other
man’s back hit the far wall. “You really want to know,
Nick?” Gil tilted his head to one side, lips twitching.
“Want to know how it felt? How big he was?” His voice
rose. “What about how deep he went? How he kissed my
back? What he said to me as he was fucking me?”
Raising his hands between them, Nick put his palms against his boss’
chest and pushed Gil away hard. “STOP!”
Stumbling back, Gil stopped in the middle of the corridor, breath
coming in short, panicked gasps.
Nick stepped forward cautiously but he was stopped by a warning hand
raised then lowered. Gil closed his eyes, sucked in a couple of
slow, deep breaths.
“I’m sorry, Nicky.”
"No, don't apologise." Nick shook his head, scrabbling to find
the right words. "Fourteen hours ago you were in the
hospital. You were hurt, drugged and... and...."
"Sexually assaulted."
Blue eyes, bright with unshed tears, met his own and Nick felt his
heart breaking.
"Yes. You can't expect just to put it behind you and move on."
"I know. But I need to work."
Calming, Nick nodded. "I can understand that. Just... if
you need anything..."
A nod. "Thanks. For.... Just thanks."
"Yeah."
A couple more steps and Warrick and Sara were in front of them, trying
to hide what they knew was inappropriate excitement.
Warrick took a breath before asking. “Gris, did you say that you
were picked up at the Sunshine Bar?” Gil nodded. “We found
this in the dead man’s jacket pocket.” She dropped a book of
matches into his hand, her fingers lingering against his just for a
moment.
He drew back a little and stared at the bright white letters on the red
background. ‘Sunshine Bar’. He handed it to Nick.
“Okay,
let’s go.”
But Nick, risking another blow up, suggested, “Why don’t you let us
deal with this?”
Gil’s glance at him was momentarily dangerous before it softened.
He nodded. “Be careful.”
~
The Sunshine Bar was open twenty fours a day. Coffee and alcohol
were available any time and it was a favourite haunt for people who
worked shifts.
Nick, Warrick and Sara approached the bar and Nick flashed a winning
smile at the barman. Instant putty.
'He can't be more than twenty,' Nick thought as he momentarily
regretted his approach but Catherine always told him that the best way
to get information was make them want to give it to you.
"Hi."
"Hello, Gorgeous. What can I get for you and your... friends?"
"A favour." Nick hesitated before breaking the guy's bubble and
producing two photos from his pocket. He placed them on the bar,
facing the crest-fallen youth; the snap-shot of James Letts that
Warrick had found at his home and the most recent file photo of
Gil. For a moment his attention caught on the blue eyes and deep
smile, the dark hair that was in reality rapidly greying under the
stress of politics.
"You cops?" The question brought him back to the here and now.
"No. We're from the crime lab. We need to know if you
recognise either of these people."
Emerald green eyes lingered a moment on Nick's before dropping to the
photos. "Sure." He touched Gil's photo. "That's
Gris. He comes in
a couple of evenings a week, has an espresso, sits at the end of the
bar and
reads for a while, then leaves. Never speaks to anyone but he
always gets a few looks."
Sara beat Nick in the jealousy stakes. "A few looks?"
"He's a good-looking guy, mysterious. People like that, they
wonder about him."
"Ever seen him leave with anyone?"
The barman considered that. "No, not Gris. Mind you, I'm
not on all the time so I might have missed it if some girl or guy got
lucky one evening."
Nick determined not to ask about the 'girl or guy' comment, Brass’s
words were still ringing in his skull. "What about the other one?"
"Jamie. Now he did get lucky. Yesterday evening, left with
a couple," his voice lowered suggestively. "Can't imagine what
that was about."
Sara stepped in again. "You don't know who this couple were, do
you?"
He glanced at her, then back at Nick who batted his eyelids hopefully.
"Yeah. Dave and Marie. They've always been a bit... well,
you know? Kinky."
“Kinky?”
“Yeah. Picking up guys together. Mind you, Dave’s a real
stunner. He’d make the straightest guy look twice.”
Nick glanced at Warrick who shook his head. “No, man.
No.”
“Come on.”
“No! Grissom would kill us. He’d kill me.”
Sara looked from one to the other. “Guys? Mind explaining
what….”
Nick ignored her. “I’d be the one to get it in the neck.”
“No, you wouldn’t. He likes you.”
“Likes me?”
“Excuse me….”
“*Really* likes you.” Nick’s eyebrows rose. “Look at the
way he’s letting you in, man. Think he’d let either of us get
that close?”
“Hey! Guys!” Sara looked from one to the other. “What
did you have in mind?”
Nick hesitated. “Bait.”
They’d give it until the end of their shift, they decided. Nick
and Warrick seated themselves in the bar, Warrick at the bar itself,
Nick in the
window where the barman – Pete, 23, 555-78567 - told them Gris usually
sat.
Sara played Watcher. She sat outside, sipping coffee and watching
the Strip move from late night to early morning.
Grissom was going to bawl them out for this stunt, that was for
sure. But if they brought in ‘Dave’ and ‘Marie’ he would at least
be thankful.
Three hours later, Nick stood at the bar ordering another drink.
Standing next to Warrick, but not looking at him, he said, “I’m going
to be awake for
days after all this caffeine.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something to do with it.” Warrick took
another sip of his orange juice. “Looking after the boss, for
example.”
Nick almost lost it and for a second he broke their cover and glared at
his colleague. Then clear, bright green eyes met his own and he
saw
the affection there.
Opening his mouth, the words, ‘I love him’ caught in his throat.
But Pete putting a black mug on the bar in front of him stopped him
from uttering them.
“One cappuccino,” the silky voice murmured softly. “And two kinky
customers at six o’clock.”
Nick flashed him a perfect smile and winked, taking up his mug and
walking slowly back to his seat, making a show of it.
The couple approached the bar and looked around, unaware of Sara moving
into the doorway, hand on the butt of her weapon.
Warrick looked up nonchalantly and caught 'Marie' sizing him up.
She was very easy on the eyes; slim but not thin, fitted white shirt
more than hinting at ample breasts. Long blond hair, blue eyes,
friendly, teasing smile.
He nodded appreciatively and went back to his newspaper.
“Beautiful morning.”
He schooled his expression, looked her up and down, and folded his
paper deliberately, giving her his undivided attention.
“Morning Beautiful.”
She moved a step closer and if he hadn’t been watching for it, he’d
have definitely missed it. Reaching around her, ‘Dave’ dropped
two pills into the glass of orange juice on the bar.
Warrick smiled. “Busted.”
~
Sara, Warrick and Brass deposited ‘Dave’ and ‘Marie’ into the interview
rooms at the lab while Nick took Warrick’s juice to the Trace Lab for
analysis.
Once he’d told a very motivated Greg what was in the glass, he was
finally happy to call it a night. His thoughts turning to his
ward, he determined to get Gris home to rest and he hummed softly to
himself as he made his way through the labyrinth of glass toward the
boss's office.
He wasn't even sure what the tune was; something he'd heard around
Greg, most likely.
But when he poked his head around Gil's permanently open door, the only
sign of life was Legs - the tarantula they'd found at a crime scene and
Gil
had adopted, saving it from Catherine who'd wanted to step on it to
check
for splatter patterns.
Stepping up to the glass tank on the desk, Nick crouched down to stare
at the large, furry spider as it stared back at him. Privately he
adored watching Gil with his pet, the way he handled it so very gently,
happily let
it wander over his hands. Warming and sexy at the same time, Nick
was
permanently jealous of the creature.
"Where is he, um?" Nick mused to the unhearing arachnid.
"Nick!"
He sprang to his feet, turning and glaring at Catherine who smiled back.
"Seen Grissom?"
"Nah. I was just looking for him, hoping to take him home."
"Good. With the two suspects around I don't think it's such a
good idea for him to be here at the moment."
Nick agreed whole-heartedly. "I'll find him. He might have
gone back to the jeep in the garage." Brushing past her, he
headed for the back of the building.
But the garage was empty, the lights off.
With a frown, Nick started to wonder if Gil had found someone else to
take him home, but somehow he didn't think so. He wouldn't have
left without saying something.
Maybe he was sleeping in the Break Room.
As he turned the corner, he saw Sara coming out of the locker rooms,
just shrugging on her jacket.
"Sara! Have you seen Grissom?"
She turned. "About thirty seconds ago, he was heading towards the
interview rooms."
"Shit!"
Nick broke into a run, crossing the building from end to end, finally
and with no small amount of relief, seeing Gil ahead of him.
"Gris!" he called out but got no response. "Gil!" Nothing.
He knew he wasn't being ignored. He simply wasn't being
heard. Worry slammed into him hard, not just concerning the
people Gil was about to come face to face with, but about all the other
times when his being deaf could endanger his life. Pushing it
savagely away, Nick picked up the pace but he knew he wouldn't beat Gil
to the corner.
When the sounds of everything around him started to increase in volume
again, Gil felt utter relief. It had come on while he'd been
sitting in his office and enveloped in silence he'd begun to get
antsy. He'd gone for
a walk, using his other senses to guide him, to 'listen' to the myriad
other
sensations available to him. His encroaching deafness frightened
him,
he needed to conquer that fear.
The second his hearing returned completely, he picked up someone
running behind him, coming toward him along the corridor. Just as
he was about to turn, he glanced into the first interview room ahead of
him. And again his world shrank to a pinpoint. His stomach
threatened another bout of retching while the darkness danced at the
edges of his mind, warning of impending blackout.
He fought it all to stay afloat. Took several deep breaths,
steadied himself and stepped forward just as Nick reached for him.
Hand on the doorknob, he pushed it open and stepped inside, hearing
Nick's call of his name this time, and this time blatantly ignoring it.
Brass stood up from his seat at the table. "Gil, you shouldn't be
here."
A terrible silence followed. Nick got his first look at the man
who'd raped his boss, his friend, and for one terrible moment he felt
the twisted attraction his victims must have felt.
Short dark hair was swept back from a classically beautiful face.
‘Dave’ wore a black shirt, fastened with leather ties. Long
fingers
ending in immaculate nails were spread out on the tabletop. And
when
he looked up at Gil, a smile of recognition spread over his lips, large
brown,
almost black, eyes danced with joy.
"Hey, it's you.... I was worried about you. I wasn't
sure.... But you're okay. That's good."
Nick hoped the hatred he felt was showing on his face as he closed in
on Gil, placing himself between the perp and his victim. "Come
on, let's get outta here."
But Gil was shaking his head. "No. I have to know."
Dave sat back, curling his fingers in encouragement. "Ask me."
"Why me?"
"Why you... what?" The question sounded gently genuine.
"Why did you... do what you did to me?"
Brass tried to put a stop to it. "Gil...."
But Gris shook his head, pushing past Nick to lean on the table, palms
flat. "Why?"
"You wanted me to."
"No."
"Denial?" The question held surprise. "You know, I never
knew your name. 'Gil'. What's that short for? It's
beautiful. Just like you."
"Don't." The word came out as a hiss.
"Don't what? Speak to you like that? Like a lover...?"
Nick saw the tension bunch in Gris' shoulders but wasn't fast enough to
stop it. Brass, luckily, was. He caught Gil's wrist on the
back
swing, spinning his friend as gently as he could, back against the wall.
"Get him outta here."
But as Nick reached for his arm, Gil shrugged them both off and stormed
out of the room.
Without a word, Nick followed.
All he could hear by the time he reached his office was the blood
pounding in his head. An overwhelming mix of anger and
humiliation had his heart racing.
The noise of shattering glass and clattering metal burst from Gil's
office as Nick approached. Catherine heard it from the Break Room
and came running in time to see Nick catch Gil by the upper arms, push
him away from the wreckage of a shelf stacked with of glass jars swept
clean.
Somehow he got Gil to his desk but by then the dangerous surge of
emotions had left a backwash of nauseating adrenaline and a soul-deep
grief.
Gil stopped struggling and crumpled in on himself, head dropping,
shoulders coming forward. Again Nick caught him, embracing him,
holding him tight as the sobs tore through him, ripping him apart.
Shocked, Catherine hovered at the door, uncertain for a moment whether
to just leave them. Then something occurred to her and she
stepped inside, closing the blinds and quietly closing the door.
Giving Gil the privacy she knew he’d want.
As she glanced at the two men, aching for her friend, she noticed the
way Gil was holding his hands out one below the other, keeping them
away from himself and Nick. It puzzled her for a moment, until
she realised that she was watching blood drops falling between his
fingers.
Reaching them in three strides, she tenderly took a hold of his
wrists. Nick's glance was viciously protective for a moment, then
his eyes filled with silent tears.
Gil had small shards of glass in his right palm and at the base of his
fingers. God, and maybe the surveillance cameras, alone knew what
he'd done to sustain them but it looked as if, at the last moment, he'd
tried to pick up the already broken pieces of everything that he'd
smashed.
She could hear Nick murmuring into Gil's hair, cheek pressed against
the top of his head, rocking him very slightly. And, slowly, Gil
was quieting.
“I’ll go get something for his hand.”
Nick nodded and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the trembling
against his body ease. Easing a hand over Gil’s head, combing his
fingers through the fine hair, he told him quietly, “It’s
okay. You’re okay.”
By the time Catherine arrived back with a first aid kit and some water,
Gil was sitting up on his desk, calmer, Nick’s arm still around his
shoulders, still offering comfort.
His injured arms were rested on his knees, hands palms up and Catherine
began to clean the new wounds without a word. Nick was still
there
but he'd perched himself on the desk next to the boss, now giving him
the
room he needed to pull himself back together.
There were several tiny pieces of glass that she plucked out with
tweezers, making Gil flinch in pain. But he kept quiet, closing
his eyes, leaning against the man sitting next to him.
Once she’d applied the dressings she ordered him home.
Nick dropped to his feet and smacked Gil gently on the shoulder.
“Come on, Boss.”
“You don’t have to….” But it was just wasted breath.
~
Catherine looked up when Warrick opened the door of the Break room and
peered inside.
“You still here?” He looked pensive, enough so that Catherine put
down her magazine. “You okay?”
“Can I talk to you… off the record?”
She nodded. “Sure. What’s up?”
With a heart felt sigh he dropped into the second chair, one knee
tucked up under his chin.
“Brass is charging Marie Manners and David Malt with sexual assault,
rape, murder, the whole nine yards.”
“Good!”
“Yeah, absolutely.” On that point Warrick was firm.
“There’s something…. It’s the MO. Pete – the barman at the
Sunshine Club – “
“Pete?”
“He had the hots for Nick.”
Catherine couldn’t hide her smirk. “Really?”
“Nick wasn’t interested.”
“No. Well, he wouldn’t be.”
“Precisely.” Warrick shifted them back on track. “Pete told
us….” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Look… it doesn’t
matter.
It’s not important and… we can prove they murdered James Letts.”
Frowning, Catherine spread out her hand. “We want them for the
attack on Gil too.”
“Murder’s murder. They’ll get what’s coming to them.”
“Warrick! What did the barman tell you?”
Looking away, he reluctantly told her. “He said Dave and Marie
always operate as a couple.”
But the significance was lost on her for a second. “They did
operate as a couple. She got Gil to go back with her, he was
waiting for them.”
“That’s not what Pete said. He said… they always pick up their
mark together.”
“Oh.” It hit her hard and she sat back. “Good God,
Gil.” But it was only a murmur on a breath.
Warrick sucked his tongue. There was more. There was the
similarity between Dave and Nick that was striking. But he didn’t
mention it.
“Listen, Cath, I have no problem whatsoever with Gil being attracted to
girls and guys, okay? I have no problem with whatever’s going on
between him and Nick. But I care about the guy. He could
have been killed and for what?”
“For his own reasons, that’s all we’ll ever know.”
Warrick closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t get it. Greg
worships the ground he walks on, Sara dotes on him, Nick… Nick loves
him.
Why turn to two complete strangers?”
“We don’t know that he did. You said they doped your OJ pretty
fast. Maybe to go with them was just a passing thought and the
rest of it was the drug.”
“If that’s the case, why is he lying to us?”
“For the exact reasons you just laid out. Greg, Sara, Nick, you…
he can’t stand to disappoint you all.”
“Disappoint us? He thinks we’ll think less of him because he’s…
what? Bi-sexual? Who the hell cares?” Warrick
launched himself from his chair and started to pace the room.
“That could have been him found dead in some faceless hotel room!
Does he really think we’d be more upset knowing he spent his days in
bed with another guy?!”
Catherine stared. “Calm down, Warrick!”
A couple more steps and he stopped pacing, nodding slowly.
“Sorry. Long night.”
“I know. Go home. Sleep. And don’t worry, okay.
Nick’s staying with Gil.” She hesitated, then smiled at
him.
“I’m sure they’ll work something out soon.”
“Umm. If they don’t I might have to kick Nick’s ass into gear
myself.”
~
Closing the front door of Gil’s townhouse behind them, Nick watched his
boss walk to the centre of the room and stop. Lost.
“Gil?” he murmured.
All he heard in response was something about a shower. A warning
about not getting the bandages wet popped into his head, almost made it
to his lips.
But he bit them back. The man had been through hell these past
two
days. Let him do whatever he wanted to do.
Nick hung his jacket up on one of the hooks next to the door and helped
himself to a beer from Gil’s oddly stocked fridge. What if he
came
home exhausted after pulling a double and grabbed something from the
wrong
box? Nick shuddered at the thought and closed the door, kicking
his
shoes off as he padded back through into the living room, picking them
up
and placing them neatly out of the way.
When he dropped into the couch he heard the shower start. Smiling
to himself, not letting his mind or his dick dwell on thoughts of Gil
standing naked under the pounding water, he found the remote for the
television and channel skipped until he found something vaguely worth
watching.
Half an hour later, when the faceless cop show finished, Nick drained
the last dregs of his beer and switched off the television.
He listened for signs of life but heard nothing so he got up and padded
silently out to Gil’s room. The sight that met him stopped him
dead.
Gil had crashed out on the bed after his shower. He was lying on
his back, face turned away, one leg pulled slightly up, bent at the
knee. The towel that had probably been tied around his waist had
dropped open and Nick’s gaze went unrepentantly, greedily to the full
cock hanging over dark testicles, nestled in wiry black hairs.
Nick swallowed, licked suddenly dry lips and had stepped into the room,
toward the bed, before his brain had a chance to catch up.
Gil was beautifully, naturally tanned. He took a minute to wonder
how and when his boss had got his tan line – just the one around his
groin
– while his eyes drank in the body stretched out before him. It
had
been difficult enough before to keep his mind on a singular,
professional
track at work. But now he knew what was hidden under the dark
clothes
and suede jackets it was going to be nigh on impossible.
His body, of course, had taken an interest, and now his trapped cock
was straining against the tight denim of his jeans. Reaching
down, he touched himself, meaning to rearrange himself.
A wave of nausea crashed over him.
What the hell was he thinking? Last night Gil had been raped and
here he was staring at the guy like he was some kind of feast.
His arousal subsided, although not completely fading to his own
disgust, and he reached down to grab the duvet from the other side of
the bed.
Gil opened his eyes as he was being covered and feeling absurdly
guilty, Nick jumped back.
“Sorry, I just…. Oh man….”
But when he plucked up the courage to meet Gil’s eyes, he regretted his
mumbled words. Shame touched the blinking blue eyes.
“I… err.… Um.” Reaching out, Grissom grabbed the duvet
dragged it up over himself.
Nick saw the embarrassment, saw the discomfort and hated himself for
it. Knowing he was taking a risk, knowing he could destroy this
rapport they’d built even if it was under the worst circumstances, he
put his hand out and covered Gil’s on the duvet.
His heart slammed in his chest, heat from the other man’s hand soaking
through into his own.
“Nicky?” Despite the note of uncertainty, Nick knew he wasn’t the
only one to feel the current flowing between them.
“Gil.” He heard the squeak of his own voice.
“What do you want?” The question was nothing more than a murmur,
the words shaped between inviting lips. Nick was lost.
Leaning down, he met Gil’s mouth with his own.
It was sweeter than he’d imagined it would be. The shock of
pleasure as Gil’s tongue touched the tip of his own, hesitant and
needy, went straight to Nick’s already interested cock. He wanted
Gil, wanted to feel the man under and around him, feel those long
fingers on his body, lips on his skin.
He wanted to be the focus of that incredible intensity.
But more than any of that he needed to love Gil and to be loved in
return. He needed to be able to hold him close, kiss and cuddle.
Gil was pulling away.
“No….”
“Nicky… you don’t know…. I need to tell you what happened that
night.”
“Gil….” Reaching, he swept his hand over the loose, flattened
curls. “I know. I know from the evidence.”
“No, you don’t.” Grissom sucked his bottom lip nervously, looking
all the more vulnerable with the duvet drawn up, shoulders bare.
“Sometimes the evidence doesn’t tell the whole truth.”
Nick’s eyes widened. He never thought he’d hear the words from
Grissom’s lips. Collecting himself he realised that this wasn’t
his boss talking, wasn’t the scientist. This was the side of Gil
he suspected few had ever seen.
“Tell me.”
“Nick… this pedestal you have me on, it won’t stand up to this.”
Nick shook his head. “Once, Gil, not now. Now… I know I
love you. You know I love you. I know what happened that
night, I just
don’t know why. That’s what you’re going to tell me. And
after
that I’ll still love you.”
Gil glanced away. “You don’t know that.”
Nick had no way of telling him that he’d done so for so long nothing
was going to change his mind, “Tell me,” He urged gently, sitting
cross-legged next to Gil on the bed.
“The guy, the one who… raped me. I knew he was there, Nick.
He was with her in the bar. I thought… I think I wanted him too.”
“I know. The barman said they worked as a couple, Dave and
Marie.” Nick reached out, rubbed his knuckles over the back of
Gil’s hand. “You’re
only human, Gil. You need affection and release just like the
rest
of us mere mortals. Think it bothers me you wanted a guy?”
At
least that drew a nervous smile. “There’s only one question
that’s important
here. In the hotel room, did you say no?”
Gil blinked back moisture from his eyes. “I don’t know. I
can’t remember. But I know I fought. I know I wanted it to
stop. He hurt me, I know he hurt me.”
Nick rose to his knees and shifted forward, wrapped his arms around
Gil’s shoulders and drew him forward into him.
“Gil….”
“I wanted to know.” The words came out no louder than a whisper
as he wondered what to do in Nick’s embrace. “I’d thought about
you, about… us.” He sat back slightly and Nick loosened his hold
without letting go. “I’m sorry, Nicky, I just wondered what it
would be like.” He glanced at the gypsy-dark eyes then looked
away. “I didn’t think there would be any harm…. But I went
too far.” He sighed softly, letting himself settle back into
Nick’s freely offered warmth. “I didn’t want that, I swear!
I just… wanted to know… about me.”
“You didn’t ask to be raped, Gil.” Nick rubbed his back, stroked
his hair, kissed his temple. “He took what he wanted, they
planned it that way.” With a strangled whimper, Gil tried to pull
away again but this time Nick refused to let him go. “Ssh….
It’s okay. None of it was your fault.”
“I went with them!”
“You were drugged, susceptible. How long since a woman put her
arms around you? Since anyone did?” He didn’t expect an
answer and didn’t get one. Grissom finally reached his injured
arms around Nick and held on as tightly as he could. “It
shouldn’t be painful, Gil. It never has to be painful.”
Calming, he took a shuddering breath. “I had to know if… if what
I was feeling for you was sexual.”
Nick sighed softly, moving instead so that they were face to face
without breaking the circle of their arms. “Why didn’t you just
tell me? Ask me?”
“How could I, Nicky?” Nick could hear the pain in the beloved
voice. It sounded so deep that he wondered how long Gil had
carried this with him for. “I had no idea. You never gave
me any signs.”
Nick chuckled, fingers spread on the cool skin of Gil’s back.
“You’re saying I could have made it clearer?”
Gil arms twitched and tightened. “What about you and Kristi?”
Nick shifted back to that he could see the bright blue gaze and smiled,
very gently. “You and Teri?” He brushed away a stray tear
with
his thumb, slid his hand around to thread his fingers into Gil’s hair,
cup
the beautiful face against his palm.
They sat together, with just that simple touch, for a long time.
“Have you always looked at me like that and I’ve been too blind to
notice?”
Nick nodded slowly. “Always.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
“Don’t feel you have to ask.”
Leaning forward slightly, Nick let Gil lead this, holding himself back
from doing everything he wanted to do, touching everywhere he wanted to
touch. They were so far from that he couldn’t begin to think
about bridging the gap.
But for now the kissing was more than enough. Gil’s mouth was
soft, undemanding. His tongue stroked over Nick’s before licking
under it, tasting, exploring.
Nick kept his hand light on Gil’s back, unable to resist a little
stroking of his thumb along the tailbone. But the kiss slowly
heated up. Nick could feel hands on his sides, fingers twisting
in the material of his shirt.
Breaking the contact with a nip of Gil’s bottom lip, Nick gazed
adoringly at the man he knew was going to be his lover.
“Would you be more comfortable if I was wearing less or if you were
wearing more?”
Gil shook his head once. “I have no idea,” he murmured.
“How about we try… you wearing less?” He lifted lightly trembling
fingers to the top buttons of Nick’s shirt and slowly began to unfasten
them, one by one, working down.
As he did, Nick carefully moved the duvet from between them, leaving
Gil covered from the waist down but giving himself access to stone-hard
nipples. Gil’s fingertips over his own chest were teasing,
exploring.
Experimentally, Nick pushed his thumb over one dark nipple. It
was like flicking a switch.
Gil’s head dropped back, a deep sound like no other rippling from his
throat. Nick grinned despite himself.
“Like that, huh?” he whispered softly. An iron grip on his arms
was his only response and so he did it again, other thumb, other nipple.
A groan on a breath threatened to set them both on fire. Nick
scooted closer, lips next to Gil’s when he said, “I could so get used
to hearing that.”
Gil opened his mouth and took Nick’s tongue inside, sucking on it
hungrily, moaning with every flick of Nick’s fingers on his chest.
It was becoming more and more difficult to hold back. Gil’s
responses were beyond his fantasies; shuddering under his fingertips,
deep sounds of pure need coming from so far inside Nick couldn’t help
but wonder how long they’d been trapped there.
He tried to stop it, tried to force the words past his lips but Gil’s
hands on him were perfect, stoking flames under his skin and before he
could slow them down they were in freefall.
“Gil….” A large hand eased his head down onto the pillow, soft
mouth sealing itself over his own as fingers worked his pants
open. Side by
side, face to face, Nick at least held on to the single instruction in
his
mind warning him to keep away from his lover’s ass.
Crude it might have been, but he had the man he loved crawling all over
him. He had a hard and desperate erection pressing into his hip,
everything
he’d ever wanted lying very naked against him. It was all more
than
he could rationally be expected to cope with and still think straight.
His mouth was released and he took the opportunity, touching his lips
to the stubbled skin along his lover’s jaw. He traced Gil’s
jawline with his tongue, tasting a vague combination of sweat and
soap. No cologne, never cologne.
Pushing his hand between them, Nick threaded his fingers into wiry
hair, touching the base of a hard shaft, turning his palm to lay his
hand along the thick length.
Gil’s whole body stiffened minutely and Nick’s brain kicked in.
He didn’t stop what was happening but he slowed it down.
“Sit up for a second,” he murmured softly.
“Nicky….”
“It’s okay. God… it’s more than okay. Just….” They
somehow got a couple of pillows piled up against the wall and Gil
leaned back against them without letting go of one another.
Pushing his pants off, following them quickly with his shorts and his
shirt, Nick straddled his lover’s thighs and finally brought their
cocks together.
Gil groaned, low and deep, carefully curling his injured hand around
the back of Nick’s neck and drawing him down into an obscene
kiss. His good
hand he wrapped around his own and his lover’s erections. Nick’s
hand
met him there, fingers linking as they drew apart for a moment and
looked at one another.
“I won’t hurt you.”
“No, you won’t. I’m not going to shatter, Nicky. I’m going
to come… very hard and very soon.”
Blue eyes darkened with desire as brown eyes widened in pleasurable
surprise.
Their hands moved together, tight, squeezing, moulding them together
from root to tip. Glancing down as their grip came up, Nick saw
the uncut puckered foreskin he could feel in the soft fold between his
index finger and his thumb. A brief flash of an idea hit the
forefront of his mind and he climaxed, his cry triggering Gil’s own
orgasm. When Nick heard the cry ripped from his lover’s throat, a
second shudder of release surged through him.
Panting harshly, they lay still, foreheads touching.
Nick had no idea what fallout would come from this. He waited,
feeling his heart ramming against his chest and their seed drying on
his hand.
Then he felt Gil’s fingers brush over his own, lifting their hands from
between them, taking it to his lips. Nick watched, transfixed, as
Gil
sucked their commingled come from each of his fingers, one by one,
sucking
the long digits into his mouth, heated gaze staring deep into liquid
brown
eyes.
“Would it sound incredibly corny if I told you that no one – no one –
has ever made me scream before?”
“It would do wonders for my ego.”
Gil smiled, leaned in and kissed Nick, just lips to lips. But
Nick pushed his tongue into Gil’s mouth to taste himself there.
Settling, still holding his lover’s hand, Gil murmured, almost shyly,
“Still love me?”
Nick couldn’t help what he knew was a dopey grin. “More than
anything in this world, Gil.”
His reward was a lopsided smile that he’d have died to see. Above
everything else now, he wanted to live and see it every single
day.
Crawling over, easing Gil onto his back, Nick made himself into a human
duvet,
closing his eyes as strong arms wrapped around him to hold him
tight.
Hot, sticky, neither of them cared as they fell asleep.
~
Stepping out of the en-suite, Nick stopped mid-whistle.
Gil was sitting naked on the bed, deftly dressing his hands with clean
bandages. He’d already done his arms.
“That’s some sort of gift, Gris.”
A dark blue daze followed him across the room. “Could you do
something for me?”
“Anything but leave.”
Gil’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I ask you to leave?”
“Regret?” Nick shrugged, trying for nonchalance to cover the
twists in his stomach.
Getting to his feet, Gil crossed the space between them and lifted him
into a hug that caused various injuries to protest but he didn’t
care. “Should you have told you this morning how much I love you.”
Returning the embrace, letting his towel fall from his waist, one hand
spread out at the small of Gil’s cold back, the other cradling the back
of his head, Nick hummed happily.
“Yes, you should. But you’ve told me now. What was it you
wanted me to do for you?”
“When we’re not in the office, call me Gil?”
Nick laughed, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to the full lips so
close to his own. “I can do that.” Taking a deep breath, he
drank in the details of Gil’s face. Every mark, every line.
“Whatever happens,
I love you, even when you think I don’t.”
“Same. And you might want to remember that because I’m not used
to this relationship thing. I’ll probably fuck up more than once.”
“I’ll be here, waiting for your apology and lots of make up sex.”
Nick saw the change, saw the defences slide into place and made a very
gentle grab for his hands before he pulled away. “Gil, listen to
me. I can’t begin to imagine what you went through, what you’re
going through, what you’re feeling. What we did last night was
perfect, you and I both
know we can keep each other very satisfied without going any further.”
Hesitating, Gil looked up. “But I want to go further.”
“Me too. But no rush, okay?” Grissom nodded. “When
you’re ready. And hey, I know they say everything’s equal, but
you’re huge. Gonna need to work up to you, if you see what I
mean.” The flush in Gil’s cheeks was definitely worth the
carefully chosen, easily spoken words. “Just let me love you.”
Gil turned his hands, held on to Nick’s fingers. “I can do that.”
~ ~ ~
Sara watched Gil follow Nick out of the Break Room after he’d handed
out the night’s cases.
Something was different although nothing had outwardly changed.
Nick had taken the car crash scene he was handed without question and
joked with Warrick about the last time they’d worked a crash together.
But it didn’t take a forensic genius to notice the burning affection in
Nick’s eyes, and the rare smiles on Gil’s lips.
First coffee of the night finished, they’d headed out, Nick was headed
for the car park and the crash site, Gil was going to Homicide to speak
to Brass about the charges being brought against Dave and Marie.
Warrick hung back, waiting for a call from Dr Robbins to tell him his
vic from an earlier incident was being posted.
Sara had a stabbing to investigate, but she needed to get something off
her chest first. "What is with those two at the moment?"
The other woman frowned in response. "Huh?"
"It's like... standing in the eye of a storm." She caught
Warrick's expression. "The tension? I think they just need
to have it out and be done with it."
Catherine had to turn away to hide her grin. Warrick didn't
bother. He stood, depositing the remains of his dinner in the
trash so he could exit as soon as he'd spoken. "Hey, not that it
bothers me or anything but I'd rather they had it out in private."
The door closed on his chuckling and Catherine found herself biting her
bottom lip to stop herself from laughing out loud or worse, commenting
that
she thought they might already have done so.
"What did that mean?"
She shook her head. "You'll work it out."
A couple of seconds later, Sara was left standing on her own in the
room feeling like she'd failed to get the punch line to the world's
funniest joke.
~
Nick poked his head around Gil’s office door and smiled to himself when
he saw the yawn. “Ready to go?”
Gil glanced up from the paperwork. “Oh yeah.” He
dropped his pen and took off his glasses. “Was ready an
hour….” The phone rang. He sighed. “Meet you at the
car?”
Nick nodded. “No problem.”
Gil watched his lover vanish back into the corridor before picking up
the receiver. “Grissom. Hi, Jim.”
Throwing his jacket on, Gil leaned heavily on his desk for a moment,
exhaustion almost wiping him out. But the idea that Nick was
waiting to take him home was a wonderfully invigorating one.
Closing his office door, he wondered down the corridor, barely aware of
much more than his own footsteps.
“Hey, Gil!” He stopped, startled by Ecklie’s overtly cheerful
voice. Turning slowly, he gazed with muted hatred at the man
strolling toward him. “Heard someone made you take it up the ass,
finally.”
Gil stared unbelievingly at the head of the dayshift team. All he
could hear was a loud buzzing that increased quickly in volume like
swarms
of bees in his ears.
Ecklie’s lips were moving, but whatever he was saying was
muffled. He was almost glad he couldn’t hear it. He was
sidling very close to his limits, head starting to pound its warning.
But as the idea of hitting Ecklie popped into mind, someone else beat
him to it, swinging a punch at the man’s jaw that dropped him like a
boulder.
Gil turned his head very slowly, fighting the sudden migraine that
threatened to do the same to him.
“Sheriff?”
Las Vegas’ Sheriff was standing at his shoulder, rubbing his fist, a
satisfied look on his face.
“You know, Gil, you and I very rarely see eye to eye on anything.
But it’s just politics. A guy forcing himself on another guy,
that
just ain’t right. And if Ecklie ever speaks to you or any other
man
like that again I’ll have him arresting curb crawlers before he can
blink.” He raised his voice. “You got that clear, Conrad?”
Sitting up on the floor, rubbing his aching jaw, Ecklie nodded meekly.
“Good.” The Sheriff turned to Gil. “I hear your team found those
perverts. They’ve done an excellent job.” Gil nodded,
barely hearing the words but automatically lip-syncing. “Think
your team would do the same for you, Ecklie?” he asked the man leaning
against the wall. “I doubt it, I really do.”
With that, he marched on down the corridor. Gil watched him go,
utterly bewildered.
“Gris?”
It was only Nick’s cautious hand on his shoulder that got his attention.
“What happened?” Gil’s expression finally betrayed his control
and Nick saw the pain in the blue eyes. “Come on, let’s go home.”
fin
elfin
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