Title: No Longer

Author: elfin

Thanks to Carmen for the encouragement, instant feedback and lending me 'Kiss The Sky' while I wait forever for my DVD to turn up.

No Longer
by elfin

As he stared down the barrel of a gun for the third time in two years, Nick felt frighteningly detached from what was happening.

What he'd failed to do with Amy Hendler he'd done with Nigel Crane; talked him down. Or at least tried to. And despite having been doped up with pain meds at the time, he'd leant from his experience with Crane as much as he'd suffered from it.

He was ready to talk now, adrenaline and fear clearing his mind of everything save his immediate situation and finding a way out of it.

"You don't want him."

Nick froze at the words spoken softly somewhere close behind him.

"It's me you want. Me you've been chasing." Grissom appeared at his side, eyes trained on the man with the gun - Nick's own weapon. "Let him go and I'll do whatever you want."

"No! Gris, don't do this...."

But Grissom was ignoring him. "Come on, Liam. I'm the one you're angry with. I'm the one who wouldn't let go. Stokes was following my lead, he works for me."

Wild eyes flicked from Nick to Grissom and back, before the gun was quickly re-aimed. "You do exactly what I tell you." Gil nodded. "Put your weapon on the ground."

Keeping his left hand where Liam could see it, Grissom took his own gun from its holster and lowered it to the ground, glancing to his side.

"Get out of here, Nick."

"No! I won't leave you with him."

Straightening, Grissom almost yelled, "Go!" But his eyes weren't angry, they were pleading.

Saving them the argument, Liam stepped forward, deftly bringing the butt of his weapon down against the side of Nick's head before whipping it around and catching Grissom in a neat arc across the forehead, gashing the skin above his left eye.

Nick dropped, stunned but staying conscious, also - wisely - staying down and still. He couldn't help Grissom now, could only watch and gather as much information as possible.

So he watched, helpless and shaking as Liam grabbed Grissom's arm and half dragged him to the black SUV. Throwing him against the passenger side door he ordered him to get in, then followed, forcing Gil into the driver's seat.

Nick hadn't been able to see Gil's face but he saw his boss' silhouette just before the engine started up, saw Gil wipe something from his forehead and imagined it was blood from where Liam's gun had caught him intentionally.

He memorised the license plate and watched until he could no longer see the taillights.

Scrambling to his feet, he stumbled across to Gil's blue Tahoe and called in a 207. An LVPD employee has been kidnapped. Request CSIs at the scene and detectives to follow up. Urgently.

Very fucking urgently.


Catherine Willows found him fifteen minutes later, collapsed over the driver's seat of their boss' car.

~

"You should be going to the hospital," Warrick argued for the third time, but Nick wasn't having any of it.

Sara came to stand next to them at the back of the ambulance. "The only tyre tracks are from the SUV. I found a couple of drops of blood...."

"I'd bet they're Grissom's. I think he was bleeding." Nick had already explained what had happened. "We need everything on Liam Gabriel. We need to find them."

"Brass has already put out an APB on Grissom, Liam and the car," Catherine told them. "They won't get far."

"If they're cornered what's to stop Liam just shooting his hostage?"

Catherine stared at Sara, open-mouthed then turned to Nick whose eyes had widened at the thought. "They won't be cornered," she reassured, "all units have been told to keep the SUV under observation but not to attempt to stop or trap the vehicle until further notice. We're hoping Gil can talk his way out of this one."

"Yeah." Nick sighed, dropping down from his perch in the back of the ambulance. "Like he talked himself into it."

~

Gil turned the car left onto the Interstate as he was commanded to do.

"Where are we going?"

The pressure of the gun to his temple increased just a little as his passenger stroked the muzzle through his hair.

"For a ride, like I said."

"Wherever we go, you know the police will follow."

"For your sake, they'd better keep their distance." Easing the metal down from Gil's temple, over his cheek to his jaw line, Liam murmured, "Are you scared?"

Feeling the chilled caress, Gil kept his breathing steady, fiercely controlling his own reaction. "Yes."

"Good. You should be." After a pause, he added, "Pull over." Gil swallowed hard, pulse rate sky-rocketing. "I said...."

"I heard." Turning the wheel, he pulled the SUV over to the side of the road.

"Leave the engine running. Get out."

Certain he was approaching his own execution, Gil couldn't help the tremors in his hands as he opened the door. He considered running, making a break for it.

Along the road wouldn't work, Liam could shoot him in the back before he got more than a couple of yards and there was nothing but open desert to the side the road. Same result, he guessed. A bullet in the back. He didn't want to go that way, didn't want to die running.

And then the choice was taken from him and there was a gun back against his temple. He could feel the slight bruising it was causing.

"Walk toward the back of the car."

Gil walked, one careful step in front of the next. He stopped when Liam reached around him and opened the back of the SUV.

He'd seen so many dead bodies in his time that he wasn't going to let another one rattle him. Even if it was in the car he was driving. Even if he was being held at gunpoint by the man who'd done this.

The wounds were severe. The dead man had been beaten and shot. He was naked, wrapped in a sheet of plastic that was covered in blood on the inside.

As Gil leaned in, habit overcoming fear for a couple of heartbeats, he felt breath against the back of his neck and the touch of the gun along the length of his throat. "You can't help him, he's been dead for a couple of hours. The question you need to be asking yourself is, will I do to you what I did to him?"

~

"There is absolutely nothing you can do," Brass told Nick for the fifth time. "Just... sit down."

"Where are they?"

"I-15 heading North East. Grissom's still driving, he's fine."

Nick sighed, shook his head. "He's in a car with a guy holding a gun to his head. He's not fine."

"He'll hold it together, Nick. He can do this."

~

"Turn off at the next junction."

A minute later, Gil made the turn. "Who is he?"

"Why do you care?"

"It's my job to care."

Liam nodded. "That's right, it is. Tell me, why do you care so much about the dead when you don't show any emotion toward the living?"

Gil bristled despite himself. "You don't know me."

"You're right, I don't. The only person who knows you is you. But I've watched you. Take the next left."

The next left was a narrow road that quickly became a dirt track.

"You know, I let you off back there. I have a feeling that whatever I do to you, if I'd left you behind and taken Mr Stokes you'd have suffered more."

Gil shrugged. "Survival guilt. Nick's probably going through what I would have been going through."

Liam nodded. "Maybe. I wonder, though, if the choice had been... you and Warrick Brown - for example - would the result would have been the same?"

"Of course. They're my team."

Letting out a deep breath, glancing out of the window to his right, Liam suddenly thrust the muzzle hard into Gil's temple, knocking his head hard to one side. Grissom flinched but kept the car in the centre of the track.

"Don't play games with me!" Liam leaned forward, moving the gun around to the nape of Gil's neck, brushing the top of his spine. "You want to know who the guy in the trunk is? His name's Steve. We met at college. I wanted him and I know he wanted me but he wouldn't admit it."

"Steve... turned you down?"

"Claimed he was straight." Liam practically spat the word in Gil's face. "He was too much of a coward to admit he wanted me. So I showed him how great it could be. He wouldn't stop screaming, kept trying to get away."

The word 'rape' didn't seem to fit nicely into the conversation so Gil filed the information for later, hoping there would be one.

"Why me? I know you've been stalking me, chasing me. I just don't understand why."

"I find you attractive. I wanted to spend some time with you, get to know you."

Gil suddenly realised the missing connection between the three previous victims they'd processed, all with Liam Gabriel's DNA under their fingernails.

"Did you get to know the others?"

Liam chuckled. "Very good, Gil. I did get to know them. You of all people know how much you can learn about someone if you study their life, their daily routine."

"So you spent time with them... face to face?"

"No. Not like this. With them, when we came face to face I was the last thing they saw. You're the lucky one."

The dirt track widened out and Gil saw the shack in front of them. "What are we doing out here?" he asked quietly.

"We're going to give Steve the burial he deserves."

~

Brass tried to decide if the nightshift team would have gone as all-out for him when he was boss as they were going for Gil. In the past they'd shown this kind of intense loyalty, risking their jobs and reputations during the 'Strip Strangler' fiasco.

They were all in a state, but he'd never seen Nick this frantic. And trying to talk some sense into even Catherine, the 'sensible one' in his mind, was proving impossible.

"You can't go." He spoke slowly. "If Liam sees the cars there is a good chance that he will kill his hostage."

"He might kill him anyway!" Nick pointed out animatedly. "He's killed three men already, that we know of."

"Come on, Brass," Warrick spoke up. "He didn't take Gris with him for company."

"What choice do we have anyway?" Sara's turn. "We can't do nothing, it could cost Grissom his life. We have to chance it."

They had a point, but if Grissom was killed it would be Brass' ass on line. Not that it would be on the line for long. He'd never forgive himself. Not ever.

"Just let us take care of it, okay? We're trained for this stuff."

But it was that, and the way the CSIs were acting right now, that made him so unsure of what would happen if things went down badly out there.

"We'll handle it. You're gonna have to trust me."

~

Gil wiped the sweat and blood from his forehead, wincing as he brushed his fingers into the gash he'd sustained earlier.

Dropping the shovel he reached up and hoisted himself out of the deep hole he'd managed to dig. A grave. Only it wasn't six foot long, more like three, and it wasn't rectangular, it wasn't a describable shape at all.

"Now put him in."

Completely sure Steve's body wasn't going to fit in the pathetic grave, Gil didn't give voice to his thoughts. Liam had already had him drag the wrapped body out of the trunk and over to the soft ground where he'd been made to dig.

Gil was exhausted, running on adrenaline and terror. He'd worked a double before all this had started. Now it was gone midnight, he hadn't slept in thirty-six hours. After this, he couldn't imagine ever sleeping another dreamless night. If he made it.

That, he admitted to himself, was looking less and less likely.

Not able to manage much dignity for Steve right now, Gil ensured the body stayed wrapped, preserving as much of the physical evidence as possible, and pushed him ass-first into the hole. He folded up as his legs and torso followed.

To Gil's wired surprise, the body almost fitted. Just his head stayed above the ground.

"That's unfortunate," Liam sing-songed. He'd sat for over an hour and watched Gil dig, aim unwavering. "You're going to have to remove his head, aren't you?"

Apparently Liam had planned very much ahead. Reaching back, he produced a large axe from close to where he was sitting. He tossed it at Gil's feet with ease.

"No."

"No what?"

"I won't do it."

Liam smiled. Getting to his feet he kept the gun pointed at Grissom's head and closed the distance between them, leaning down to pick up the axe he'd thrown.

Gil tensed, expression crumpling. "Liam...."

In one smooth move, Liam spun the axe in his hand and raised his arm. Gil ducked but he wasn't fast enough and the thick wooden handle cracked against the point where his shoulder met his neck.

He dropped to his knees, yelling out in pain, unable to keep the sound back. His whole body screamed in protest but he stopped himself from showing any further weakness. As soon as he could lift his head, he looked up.

Anger flashed in Liam's eyes. The previously soft voice was harsh when he spoke. "Take his fucking head off or I'll take yours!"

"Okay, okay." Dragging in a couple of deep breaths, fighting now to keep calm, Gil took the axe as it was thrust at him. Leaning down, he pushed Steve's head against the corner of the grave, pressing the plastic into the neck so that he could see what he was doing.

A wave of nausea threatened to choke him and he swallowed back on it. There was no doubt in his mind that Liam was serious about killing him. His only hope now was to stay alive as long as possible.

His mind had also turned to leaving evidence for his CSIs to find. But that seemed so final and when he thought about it, it felt like giving up.

He was afraid and Liam knew it. That gave the man all the power in the world.

"Do it," Liam ordered in a voice now devoid of all emotion, "or I'll do to you what I did to him, castrated him with a bullet. You know, he lived for some time after that. He surprised me. I think I surprised him too."

"Liam, don't...."

Within a heartbeat the muzzle of the gun was back at his temple, pressed hard against his scalp. Liam twisted the weapon right then left then back again, cutting into the already raw skin.

"Just. Fucking. Do it."

Gil swung.

He took Liam out at the knees, causing him to stagger back but not losing his balance. In the moment between his attack and the gun going off, Grissom dropped bodily to the ground, kicking out as he went.

His right foot connected hard with Liam's left shin and he rolled, striking out almost blindly with the axe. He knew he'd done some damage by the sudden resistance in the axe's natural arc and Liam's indignant cry of agony.

Gil looked up then. He saw the blade slice through and under Liam's left wrist, felt it scrape the bone, but there hadn't been enough strength behind his attack for the hand to sever.

With a second yell, Liam aimed roughly and fired.

The bullet pierced Gil's right arm with sickening speed and he lurched forward, dropping the axe on his foot.

"Gil," Liam breathed heavily. "All you had to do... was take off a dead man's head." Still clutching the gun, still aiming it at the other's skull although nowhere near as steadily as he had been, Liam held his left wrist hard against his own chest.

"You'd have killed me anyway," Gil spat, clutching his own bleeding, throbbing arm.

"I've have made it quick. Maybe now we'll just sit here and see who bleeds to death first." Both men heard the car engine in the heavy silence that sat between them. "Or maybe I'll just blow your brains all over the ground for your team to find. Think they'll mourn you? Think they'll make those famous PD bad jokes as they're picking up itty bitty fragments of your skull from the ground? No open casket for you, no sad goodbyes in a funeral parlour. Just a corpse and an awful mess where your face once was."

Their immediate area of the desert filled with light and a second or two later, Brass' voice cut through the warm night.

"Get your fucking hands in the air NOW!"

Liam's eyes flicked to the left and Gil leapt forward, grabbing the other man around the waist and hauling him to the ground. The gun went off again but the bullet went astray. Gil didn't wait for Liam to fire another shot. He snatched his abductor's right wrist and slammed it hard against the ground, grinding the bones together.

White-hot agony scorched along Gil's injured arm, his whole body screaming at him to stop but he knew he couldn't. He cracked Liam's wrist again and this time the gun fell from spasming fingers.

With a shout of rage, Liam tried to close his hand again on his weapon but it was kicked away from him as a pistol appeared between his eyes.

"It's over," Brass told him, gaze raking over Grissom's blood-spattered form. "It's okay, Gil."

It took a couple of seconds for his words to sink in, then Gil let up and with an expression of utter relief and gratefulness he dropped back.

Another officer had taken charge of Liam, allowing Brass to catch Grissom before he hit the sandy floor.

"Wow," Jim murmured softly, cradling his friend against him carefully. "You look like shit."

Gil cracked open one eye against the raging headache starting to hammer behind his eyeballs. "Thanks." With a deep breath, he slumped.

"Hey! Don't you dare go to sleep on me!" He hated to do it, to carefully pinch dirt-covered fingers until pained blue eyes cracked open to glare at him. Gil looked completely wiped out. "I'm sorry. Just stay awake until the medics get here, okay?"

It wasn't long before they were with them.


Grissom was pale in the harsh lights of the chopper and the headlights of the SUV Brass and the other officers had arrived in. The wound over his left eye was open, dirty and bloody. The gunshot wound to his arm, half way between his shoulder and his elbow, had attracted the attention of one of the medics who'd jumped from the helicopter as it had landed.

CSIs were undoubtedly on their way to the site. But a couple of minutes later it was obvious that Gil wouldn't be there when they arrived. The medics wanted to airlift him out immediately.

"He'll be at Desert Palm," one of them told Brass as another skilfully dressed Gil's wounds, stuck a needle in his hand and wrapped him in a thick blanket before strapping him into the helicopter.

Brass nodded, keeping a hold of Grissom's fingers until the very last moment. "You're gonna be fine, Gil," he called to his friend. He didn't know if he was being heard any longer.

One of the medics who'd arrived by chopper stayed to clean, stitch and dress Liam's wounded wrist before he was also taken to hospital, but by slower means.

By the time the dark CSI Tahoes pulled up, both men were gone from the scene.

"He's okay," Brass informed the four as they descended on him. "He's got a gunshot wound but nothing serious. I'm going there now, following our suspect. I'll speak to Gil as soon as I can."

Catherine glanced around the three CSIs, her team to command temporarily. "Nick, go with him."

Relief plastered across his face, Nick nodded and trotted over to one of the newly arrived cop cars with Brass who commandeered one, handing over the keys of the SUV.


Working steadily, Catherine, Warrick and Sara processed the scene. They bagged Liam's gun and the axe. They found the body still folded and wrapped in the hole and lifted him out with as much dignity as they were able.

"What a mess," Sara murmured quietly. "Think this is what he had in mind for Grissom?"

Warrick flinched. "Do you have to think like that?"

"Yeah. My affliction."

The coroner was on his way. There was nothing they could do for the dead man.

"Gris can testify to Liam's guilt," Catherine murmured as she crouched at the edge of the hole. "But we need to do this right." Just in case something went wrong. In case the worst happened and Liam was charged with five murders and not four.

Their initial guess was that Liam had dug it before bringing Gil out here. That changed when Sara bagged the shovel a couple of feet from the hole, where Gil had thrown it.

"I think he made Gris dig," she guessed, looking around her. "Wonder if he was going to make him dig his own grave too."

Warrick rolled his eyes. "Oh, man."

~

Nick was glad to have been able to process his boss while the man was still sleeping off the anaesthetic.

They'd taken Grissom straight into the OR to remove the bullet from his arm and repair the damage. It had lodged in his humerus, shattering the bone around it. The surgeon had used metal plates and pins to fix the severe fracture. Gil was facing weeks of pain followed by weeks of rehab and physio to get the strength and movement back in his arm.

But right now he lay in a bed in the Intensive Care Unit, although the doctor had assured Nick it was just overnight, just for them to keep an eye on him. All being well he'd be moved to a private room in the morning. Medical Insurance was one of the few benefits of the job.

Nick sat at Gil's side, holding his fingers loosely as he slept, taking in the thick, tight bandages around his arm, the stark white dressing at his forehead and the deep purple bruising around the base of his throat where it met his left shoulder.

An IV line had been set into the back of his hand. Earlier he'd been given two pints of blood, now he was just on saline and morphine.

They expected him to wake in a couple of hours. Nick wanted to be there when he did and no one was arguing.

He rubbed the cool fingers gently with his own, watching Gil's peaceful, sleeping face. The night had been so stressful for them all, but he could only begin to imagine what their boss had been through. There was plenty of evidence to tell some of the story.

The muzzle abrasions along the hairline at his temple told of the constant threat of a bullet through the brain. At a couple of points, the skin was broken.

Nick knew the wound on his forehead had been made at the start of his ordeal. He'd been standing too close when Liam had cracked the butt of his weapon against Nick's own head.

Dirt and bruising on Gil's hands confirmed Catherine's theory of Liam forcing his prisoner to dig the grave out in the desert.

Scratches, cuts and bruises over the rest of him would give them an accurate account of the fight between Gil and Liam, if for some reason Gil couldn't remember.

Nick had taken photographs and swabs as soon as he'd been able. As close as he was to the victim this time, Grissom was evidence and had to be processed.

How cold a phrase for someone Nick cared so much about.

How cold a phrase for someone still so warm.

Absently, Nick traced the lines of Gil's knuckles, easing out the soft dimples of flesh. They could have lost Gris tonight. He didn't need reminding of how dangerous their jobs were, he'd experienced it first hand.

But Grissom had a habit of making it worse, of walking into explosive situations seemingly without a thought. His private interview with Sid Goggle, his dinner date with Paul Millander. Either he had a death wish or just wasn't aware of the possible consequences.

There was another answer. Maybe Gil knew exactly what he was doing when he walked into such situations, but didn't think anyone cared what happened to him.

He was so wrong. His whole team cared. Brass and Robbins, men Grissom's age who shared his experiences but not so much his outlook. Greg and Sara who worshipped him, spending their time alternating between trying to impress him and learn from him. Warrick, a man who had Grissom's utmost respect and almost paternal care. Catherine, without a doubt Gil's best friend, a woman who'd known him longer than the rest of them, a woman he now and again shared with.

Nick knew his own hero-worship had deepened and changed. In the last year he'd begun to realise there was more to his feelings than awe. He'd stopped trying to impress. He'd stopped trying to learn. He'd started to listen and to watch.

Everything Gil said hid something he wasn't saying. He didn't put his feelings in his eyes, more his soul was often visible in his face, in his body language. All you had to do was know how to read it.

The more he discovered, the deeper he went.

But he knew it wasn't just the man's mind he was falling in love with. He found Gil impossibly attractive. The gentle smile, the bright eyes, the soft greying hair. His body, that wasn't the athletic or muscled body of a guy who worked out or even made it to the gym once a week, drew Nick's attention like Luminol to blood. The natural curve of his ass, the way he cocked his head and twitched his lips when he talked, even the odd bend of his legs when he walked made Nick's entire body stand up and take notice.

And then there was the fact that despite his private nature and secretive personal life, Gris was the most intense man Nick had ever met. Being the object of his attention even for a minute was like being laid bare under a microscope. When Gil spoke to someone it was up close and personal. Every time. Even with Ecklie and the Sheriff.

Each time Gil stood close to him, spoke to him, studied evidence along side him, he felt the older man's heat, smelt the underlying clean scent of soap and shampoo. Every word Grissom uttered, Nick wanted to kiss the lips it issued from.

But up to now, he hadn't felt the need to tell his boss how he felt. He was happy to work with Grissom, happy to have his company each night and a greater number of days than he suspected was healthy for any of them. He jerked off in the shower most evenings to vague fantasies of his boss taking advantage of him in various rooms around the lab. It was enough.

Until tonight.

As he sat at Gil's bedside, Nick wondered about the flip side of the coin.

He had no idea if he even registered on Gil's personal radar above and beyond being on the man's team. But after this, after tonight, after his boss had traded places with him for Liam's attentions, Nick needed to at least tell Grissom that he was cared for, loved, and would be whether he wanted or returned the sentiment.


A knock on the window behind him made him start.

He turned around, smiling tiredly at Catherine and Warrick who were waving at him from the corridor.

Squeezing Grissom's fingers gently he told the sleeping man, "I'll be back in a couple of minutes, Gil," and let go. Closing the door quietly behind him, Nick didn't move far.

"How is he?" Catherine asked, eyes darting from Nick to their injured boss.

"He's sleeping off the anaesthetic. His arm's in a bad way but it'll heal. Of course it's his right arm so he's gonna drive us and himself nuts when he can't work properly." Warrick smiled a sad little smile, emerald gaze settling on Grissom through the glass. "He's covered in bruises, one really bad one here," Nick rubbed his shoulder and collarbone. "But the doc said he'll be okay."

"Sure he will be, he's a stubborn bastard who isn't going to let a man with a gun and a dead body in the trunk stop him." But Warrick's words were quiet as he approached the observation window. Even Grissom got rattled, they'd all witnessed it at one time or another, and after his ordeal tonight they could understand that it would be a while before he was back to his old self.

"Any more on the dead guy?"

Catherine nodded. "Steve Shodden, married, two kids. We're on our way to the post-mortem, thought we'd stop by. You should get some sleep, Nicky."

Nodding, Nick said, "Yeah, I will. Just want to be here when he wakes up. Hospitals are scary places, I know."

"Okay. Don't exhaust yourself. Sara's gone home, we'll attend the post then catch some sleep. Brass is interviewing Liam and with the amount of coffee he drank tonight I doubt he'll sleep for the next couple of days."

With a soft chuckle, Nick promised her he'd rest. She stepped back and Nick went to stand at Warrick's side.

"You okay, man?"

Warrick took a deep breath. "You know when he went to the cockroach convention and left me in charge?"

"How could I forget?"

"When he got back and I asked him why, he told me that when he left CSI there wouldn't be any cake in the break room. He'd just be gone." Nick squeezed his eyes closed. "It's like he thinks no one would miss him, no one would notice. As if... it would be the same with someone else in charge."

Nick touched his fingertips to the glass, watching Grissom sleep. "How do we tell him it wouldn't be?"

~

It was gone eight am when Gil opened his eyes. Thankfully, the ICU was quieter than it had been at any other time since they'd arrived.

"Hey," Nick greeted him softly. "You're in the hospital. You were shot, but you're going to be all right. You just need to take it easy, okay?"

"Liam?"

"In custody."

Gil took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, flexing his hand, moaning softly as the IV needle pricked at his vein. Nick loosened his hold but Gil's curled his fingers around his, silently asking for the support Nick was all too willing to give.

"It's okay, Gil," he murmured, tightening his grip just a little. "I'm not going anywhere."

~

Dr Robbins looked up when Catherine and Warrick appeared next to his slab.

"I bagged the plastic that your DB was wrapped in and sent it up to your lab," he told them, a little surprised at their presence.

Catherine nodded. "We know. Thank you."

"We want to know about Steve Shodden."

"You people really don't sleep, do you?" He led them back to the covered body lying on the furthest metal slab.

Warrick glanced at the pale face, lifeless face and for a horrible moment saw Grissom lying there. "What killed him?"

"He bled to death. He's been shot once through the testicles, three times in the groin."

"Bullets?"

"Not in the body, must be at the scene."

"I take it he wasn't killed in the car."

Robbins shook his head. "There wasn't enough blood on the sheet. He was wrapped in that after he was shot, but not too long afterwards."

Catherine smiled wanly. "Thanks, Doc."

They were at the door before he asked, "How's Gil?"

"He's doing okay. He's been out of surgery a couple of hours but he was still whacked from the anaesthetic when we went over. Nick's with him."

"Good." He sighed a soft breath of relief. "Thanks."

~

Sitting up in bed against more than his fair share of pillows after Nick's looting of the empty bed in the room across the corridor, Gil closed his eyes against the ever-present headache.

Even with the medication in his system, his arm and shoulder throbbed sickeningly while every movement sent spikes of pain through his entire nervous system.

Brass sat in a chair on one side of the bed, Nick perched on the windowsill. He'd left Gil's side for a total of half an hour in the last sixteen. He hadn't slept and had been existing on the terrible coffee from the hospital machines until Brass had arrived with a tub of Greggo special.

"Send him my undying love," Nick had told Brass thankfully.

Gil had a better idea. "Jim, would you tell this man to go home and get some sleep, please? If he drinks any more coffee, especially of Greg's making, he's going to explode."

Nick shot him an adoring smile. "Will not."

Brass glanced from one to the other. "What makes you think he'll pay any attention to me? You're his boss."

Tiredly, Gil rubbed his eyes with his left hand, trying not to aggravate the IV line there.

"I need to ask you a few questions but I'll make it quick."

"I know the drill, Jim." He tried not to take his discomfort out on Brass. "I dug the hole. I moved Steve's body from the back of the SUV. I made sure the plastic stayed in place, it wasn't compromised."

"You did all of this at gun point?" Gil's expression told him exactly what he thought of that question. He didn't dignify it with an answer. "Sorry, course you did."

"He wanted me to use the axe to take Steve's head off because I didn't dig the grave deep enough."

Nick saw the pain flash across Gil's face and moved to perch on the edge of the bed. Brass watched the protective move with interest, faintly amused when Grissom didn't shoo him away.

"That's when you attacked him?" There was no accusation in Brass' voice.

"I had no choice. I didn't want to decapitate a corpse. I knew he was going to kill me. He'd handed me an axe, I wasn't going to throw away an opportunity."

Brass leaned forward. "Gil, I'm not accusing you of anything, there's nothing to accuse you of. You were kidnapped at gunpoint. You know as well as I do that Liam killed Carl Marshall, Pete Liven, Luke Mason and Steve Shodden. I have no doubt that he was planning on killing you too. You do not need to defend yourself."

With a deep sigh, Gil closed his eyes. "Sorry."

"And don't feel the need to apologise either." He got to his feet. "Get some rest, okay."

Without opening his eyes, Grissom nodded.

Setting his empty coffee cup on the bedside cabinet, Nick followed Brass out into the corridor.

"He's right, Nicky. You need to sleep."

"I know. I've been grabbing a couple of hours here and there, the doc says he'll sleep for most of today while his system gets over the shock."

"Any idea when you can spring him?"

"Not for twenty-four hours at least."

"Right." Brass patted his arm with understanding. "Get some real sleep, before you collapse."

~

'Thanks,' Gil mouthed to the nurse who'd just injected his next morphine dose into the IV line in his hand.

She smiled and left him with his sleeping companion.

Breathing deep and even, body blissfully pain-free, Gil lay still and watched Nick. The young man was still holding his hand and he didn't feel like letting go right now.

There were things Liam had said to him that had hit closer to home than he was ready to admit even to himself.

He'd been sure he was going to die, that had scared him and his fear had surprised him. He didn't have a death wish - he knew his team thought he did - he just craved knowledge. Not knowing, not being in control frightened him more than anything else.

It would be a while before he could recall his ordeal and think through it objectively. For now it was enough that he was alive.

And Nick was with him.

He'd talked Liam into taking him rather than Nick for more complex reasons than he'd told himself at the time.

Nick wasn't great under pressure - that had been his on-the-spot rationale. But he'd also known how he'd feel if Liam took off with his CSI. He'd go crazy trying to track the SUV, trying to get Nick out of there, ASAP. He'd have put Nick's life at risk. The way it went down, he'd only risked his own.

What he hadn't realised at the time, but what he could read in Nick now, was that this man had gone through exactly what he'd imagined himself going through had Nick been taken.

Astounded by the care being shown, Gil rubbed his thumb along the side of Nick's index finger. Whatever was happening here, it was something he wanted. Very, very badly. Right or wrong.

Definitely wrong. He'd denied it for years, trying everything, going from one extreme to the other.

He'd been close to Nick a couple of years ago. Then Holly Gribbs had been killed, Brass had been moved and he'd been handed the nightshift to manage. He'd never know why. He and the Sheriff had never seen eye to eye and Catherine was just as senior ranking as he was.

He guessed, as Ecklie had told him once, his reputation did wonders for the department. They got the state of the art equipment and the budget.

But since he'd taken over, he'd slowly but surely pulled further and further away from Nick until the friendship had dwindled and he'd become the boss.

Was the distance between them something he could still bridge?

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Nick's skin against his own and hoping all this wasn't the product of a drugged and dopey mind. Unconsciously, he tightened his hold around Nick's index finger and brown eyes opened suddenly.

"Gil? You okay?"

"Yeah," he reassured quietly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine." Nick stretched, cracking his spine back into place. He glanced at their hands and smiled a little to himself. Instead of pulling away, he returned the caress. "Is... is this okay?"

Gil couldn't find his voice just then, so he nodded.

It was enough for now.

Gil relaxed, closed his eyes.

Nick changed his grip, holding the older man's hand like he meant it before going back to sleep himself.


That was how Sara found them half an hour later.

For as long as she could remember she'd existed on three or four hours sleep a night. She'd gone home but hadn't been able to quieten her mind. She'd gone back to the lab but it was a different vibe while dayshift ruled the coup and finally she'd decided to see for herself how Grissom was doing.

Not wanting to wake either of them she'd silently padded around the chair and the bed, reaching out but stopping with her hand hovering an inch from Gil's hair. She frowned a little when she saw the contact between the two men but it touched her.

For a short time she stood there, words on the tip of her tongue but unable to give voice to them.

Soon enough Gil would be back at work, would be their boss again. Usually he gave a feint impression of being on a completely different plane from them. Lying here in a white hospital gown with matching white dressings, he looked so very human.

She loved him.

She touched his hair, stroking with a feather light caress. "Gris...."

He moaned in his sleep, shifted against the pillows. Nick, in turn, moved his head from left to right, sliding his hand to touch Gil's wrist. Together, they settled without waking.

Hesitating for a second, Sara nodded to herself before leaving them alone.

~

Perching on the bed while the nurse redressed his patient's wounds, the doctor checked Gil's ocular reactions.

"How do you feel?"

"I have a headache."

"You're susceptible to migraines, aren't you?"

He supposed it was in his medical notes. "Yes. But I'm assuming this has more to do with the crack I took to the skull last night and the resulting postconcussion syndrome."

The doctor smiled. "Don't get clever with me," he warned lightly, "you may be a science hotshot out there but in here you're my patient and I get to make the diagnosis."

Gil threw a small smile at Nick where he stood by the window, now completely involved in his boss' recovery. The doctor had asked him to leave, Grissom had asked him to stay.

He grinned in response. "Good luck in getting him to keep quiet, doc."

"Hey!" But his grouching aside, he wanted the throbbing at his temple to stop.

"I'll get you some propranolol. And I'd like to keep you in another night." He noted his patient's expression. "There is some evidence of concussion and I'd be happier if we could keep a close eye on you." With a conciliatory smile, he got to his feet. "I want to know if you feel nauseous, if that headache gets worse or if you start to experience vision problems, okay?" Gil nodded. "Thank you."

Once the nurse had finished, Nick made sure he was comfortable before they pulled back the curtains.

"I should go back to work tonight, they're short two without you alone."

Gil smiled wanly. "You didn't have to stay."

"I wanted to. And I'll be back as soon as my shift is over or I can get away, which ever's sooner."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to. Is there anything you need?"

"Books, journals, something to do?" Gil squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, his head complaining.

"You should be resting."

"I'll go crazy staring at these four walls." He tried for a winning smile. "Please?"

Nick held up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay. I'll bring some from the lab." He thought about saying more but the nurse arrived back with the propranolol the doctor had promised Gil.

~

Catherine threw Nick out of CSI's lab in the early hours of the morning.

The evidence from Gil's scene had all been processed. Liam was as guilty as hell and the DA readily agreed.

There was only one other scene that night, an attempted robbery at the Oasis casino. Warrick and Sara covered it.

Nick had felt exhausted, sitting in the Break Out room drinking coffee with Greg. But once he got into his Tahoe he knew he wasn't going home to bed. He drove out to Desert Palm.

He pushed open the door to Gil's room quietly. The only light was coming in from the open window but he could make out the only occupant sleeping restlessly on his back having kicked off his sheets.

The white medical gowns did nothing for a guy, Nick decided, carefully lifting the sheet back over Gil. He watched cool fingers flex to clutch the sheet and pulling up the chair slid his hand in the way.

Fast asleep, Gil gripped him hard, once, before settling back into a lighter hold. Whatever dreams had been plaguing him seemed to let go and his breathing evened out.

Nick closed his eyes and eventually he managed to drop off. At the forefront of his mind the exchange between himself, Liam and Grissom played over, ending in a bloodbath that woke him only an hour or so after he'd fallen asleep.

"Nick?"

Sitting up, Nick found Gil's hand on his shoulder and concerned blue eyes searching his face.

"Just a nightmare," he reassured in a shaky voice. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Gil rubbed his arm once before lying back, sliding his hand down to rest once again against Nick's, ignoring the pull of the IV line in his hand. "Thought I'd be the one having bad dreams," he murmured with a wry smile.

Nick rubbed his thumb slowly over Gil's hand, prompting, "Nicky, should we... talk about this?"

"Probably."

Gil sucked his lip. "Is now a good time?"

With a deep breath Nick began, "Warrick told me about what you said, that you were a ghost."

Sighing softly, "He asked me what I was at school, a jock or a brain. I told him I was a ghost."

"But apparently you think you still are. The line about there being no cake in the Break Out room?"

"You guys really do memorise every word I say, don't you?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yes, Gil. And that's my point. We listen to everything you say. You're not a ghost any more. When you eventually leave, there won't just be cake, there will be champagne, presents, hugs, exchanges of phone numbers and email addresses...." He smiled, shaking his head. "You don't turn up for work one night, you'll have four Tahoes in your driveway and us on your doorstep checking up on you. You're not a ghost any more. We care for you, we love you." Squeezing Gil's hand, he added, "I love you. That's what this is."

He watched, touched, as a few scant tears escaped the blue eyes.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to come on quite as strong."

Swallowing, Gil smiled. "It's okay. I... I've never been needed by anyone, never needed anyone in return. I've always been fiercely independent."

Nick chuckled. "Yeah, we'd kinda noticed." He watched Gil's face, the expressions chasing each other across the handsome features, still boyish despite the wrinkles at his eyes. "What?" he pushed gently.

"When you said.... Is this the same as it is for Warrick, Sara and Catherine?"

Grinning, Nick replied, "Well, maybe for Sara. But I think Catherine considers you a close friend and you're definitely not Warrick's type."

"What about you?"

Nick heard the hope in the soft tone. Taking a chance, he lifted Gil's hand carefully to his lips and kissed the back of it, just to the side of the IV line. "That answer your question?"

Gil nodded, staring at Nick's mouth. "I'll never know why. You could have anyone."

"That's good. Because I want you."

He paused, watched and saw the expression that settled on the beloved face. Rising to his feet, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, keeping a gentle hold of Grissom's hand.

"Gil?"

"I'm in love with you, Nicky."

Catching his breath, hearing the words he'd never believed he'd hear, Nick reached out to ghost his fingertips over the dressing on Gil's forehead, not actually touching. "That's good too."

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over Grissom's, waiting, each breath a torment until Gil's head turned and those soft lips slid back across his.

The first kiss was sweeter than he could ever have imagined it would be. Despite the pain in his shoulder and his arm Gil tried to move into Nick, tried to push closer. When he couldn't, he dropped back against the pillows with a groan of frustration.

Nick smiled in sympathy, easing one hand over Gil's cheek, curving around the left side of his neck. "No excitement or the doc will throw me out."

A myriad of expressions flashed across Gil's face but in the end he muttered, "No fair."

It was so un-Grissom-like that Nick actually laughed. "Rest. Sleep. I'm not going anywhere." To make his point, he reached back to pull the chair closer to the bed, dropping into it while keeping a hold of Gil's hand.

He waited, but blue eyes held his. "Do I have to get the nurse?" he teased gently, threading his fingers through Gil's.

"Do you have any idea how long it's been since someone kissed me?"

Nick read the real question, the discomfort, into the words. He paused thoughtfully, glancing at the sheet covering the patient.

"I don't want the first time my hand's on your dick to feel like a sponge bath," he mused innocently. It was worth the expression on Gil's face.

But his words seemed to have the right effect. Gil shifted uncomfortably, lifting the sheet a little, hitching one knee up to hide his body's natural reaction to Nick's kiss. "Nicely put."

Unsure where the boundaries were right now, Nick reached out and stroked that knee, fingers brushing the sheet.

"Sleep, okay?"

Taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, it wasn't long before the spike of arousal was overwhelmed by the drugs in his system and he dropped off to sleep, fingers falling slack between Nick's.

Nick kept up his vigil way into the late hours of the morning, trying to make some sense of the turn his life seemed to have suddenly taken. It was far from unwelcome, Gil was someone he'd been waiting for almost since the moment they'd met on Nick's first night at CSI. But he'd never thought to have him.

Gil was the most private man he knew, keeping personal and private lives separate. No one knew him past the fact he liked Chinese food and could sign. The only relationships anyone knew of - if you could call either of them 'relationships' - were his attempt at a date with Teri Miller and his obvious fascination with Lady Heather.

Nick had always believed Gil to be the type of person who would be interested in all areas of his sexuality. Rumours of his knowledge of the S&M scene had spread like wildfire around the lab, dampened only by the refusal of anyone to even consider the implications. Nick couldn't picture Grissom in any of the scenes he'd witnessed at Lady Heather's. He didn't want to. The thought of anyone - man or woman - inflicting humiliation or pain on his Gil....

Letting out a deep breath, he reassured himself. This man was way too self-possessed to allow anyone to dominate him and the only way he would ever deliberately hurt someone was if they were threatening him or someone else.

'He said he was in love with you,' a tiny voice in his head reminded him. And a smile drifted across his face. "I love you too, Gil."

~ ~ ~

epilogue


Nick checked Gil's fridge. Somehow he'd found the time to shop and there were more foodstuffs than bugs on the shelves.

"Looking for evidence of something?"

Looking up, Nick bestowed a wondering smile on the man standing staring at him.

"Yes, proof that you're not going to starve to death while I'm at work."

Gil sauntered in to the kitchen, closing the fridge door with the hand that wasn't resting in the sling around his neck. Nick stood up, almost expecting to see anger in the blue eyes but instead seeing something more intense.

"Gris.... You need to rest."

"I prefer 'Gil' and what I need is you."

Taking a couple of steps closer, but not completely closing the gap, Nick shook his head. "You are supposed to be taking it easy. Healing. You were shot, Gil. You've been through a real trauma and...."

The rest of his words were swallowed by Gil's mouth closing over his own, an obscene kiss that went straight to his cock.

"Trauma is knowing you want me and not having you touch me. I have a gunshot wound, Nicky, I'm not going to break."

Nick swallowed. It was all he could do not to grab everything he was being offered right there and then.

"The doc made it very clear...." But Grissom's good hand curving round the side of his throat, fingers teasing into his hair made it almost impossible to remember what the doctor had said. Besides, Gil seemed to have other ideas.

"Screw the doctor." Then he smiled a sideways smile. "On second thoughts, don't. Screw me."

As far as Nick was concerned, he'd have to have been dead to ignore a suggestion like that. Hands on Grissom's shoulders, he brought the two of them back together in a long, deep kiss.

"Are you sure?" he managed when Gil took a hold of his hand and led him back to the bedroom.

Any hint of impatience was well hidden. "Yes."

Convinced, Nick took a moment to appreciate the sparse room, the slightly elevated platform and the kingsize bed with crème linen before Gil awkwardly began unfastening his shirt buttons with one hand got his full and undivided attention.

"Want help there?" he murmured, voice laden with acute adoration. The frown that touched Gil's lips told him he didn't really, but he didn't have too much choice. "Sit down."

Nick followed him down to the bed, mouth attaching itself to his lover's. This was a taste he could become addicted to. Gil's heat and intensity was something he could easily obsess over.

Forcing himself to slow down, he took the sling carefully from Gil's neck and eased it from his arm, throwing it across the room with a wink.

The sound of laughter from Gil was one he basked in. Leaning in to nibble on a delicate earlobe, he unbuttoned the light blue shirt and pushed it off wide shoulders, flinching when he saw the dark bruising now spread up one side of Gil's neck and down into the right side of his chest.

"Nicky... I'm fine."

Sceptical, Nick let it go for now, getting the shirt all the way off and discarding it before pulling his own over his head. Easing his lover back to the smooth linens, he kissed him again, wondering if he'd ever be able to get enough.

"Love you," he murmured, lips moving over Gil's, "so much. I was so scared I'd lose you."

Left arm curling around Nick's bare side, fingers exploring past the waistband of his trousers, Gil nipped Nick's bottom lip gently. "You're not going to lose me, Nicky. I've survived this far and now," he sucked eagerly on the tongue that slide over his own in a quick, greedy kiss, "now I have something to live for."

He moved to lavish his attentions on his lover's throat, but his shoulder protested sharply and although he ignored the first spike of pain, the second forced him to drop back to the pillow, groaning his frustration.

Nick went with him, sweeping fingers through the loose salt and pepper curls, playing with the tuft of grey hair just above his ear.

"Easy," Nick purred softly, "Let me, okay?"

It wasn't, but Gil had no choice. He lay back, touching as much of Nick as he could, watching as he was undressed, admiring his lover's body as he stood up for a moment and got naked.

Skin to skin was perfect. Nick started an exploration that he hoped would last a lifetime. Every couple of minutes he moved up to steal a kiss from his frustrated lover, telling Gil how he felt in no uncertain terms, worshipping the body beneath him.

But Gil's moans were telling and Nick finally took the thick, heavy cock into his mouth and sucked down to the root. The yell that issued from Gil's throat took Nick's breath away, making his ego soar. Fingers settled in his hair, not pushing, not threatening, just wanting desperately to touch. The movement must be causing Gil pain but Nick felt a flash of pleasure knowing that other sensations were overwhelming his lover.

Completely overwhelming.

Gil came hard, body shuddering as he spilled down Nick's throat and every drop was swallowed eagerly. That talented tongue continued to bath him, licking gently, lips sucking his sated cock until his body overloaded and shutdown.

Lifting his head, Nick smiled when he saw that Gil had fallen asleep. His lover's hand slipped from his head and he took it gently, kissing the fingers lightly. His own cock was aching for release, but he ignored it, instead rolling off the duvet and covering Gil with the half he wasn't already lying on.

It was warm enough for him just to lie and watch his lover sleep. It was obvious to him that an orgasm would have short-circuit Gil's already over-stressed system but he could imagine how Gil would be when he woke; embarrassed, horrified, apologetic.

Nick wanted to be the first thing his new lover saw when he opened his eyes, wanted the first words Grissom heard to be 'I love you.'


END