Title: All He Needs
By: kennedy
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Note: Semi-prequel to Don't Fence Me In.
Summary: How Bill and Jillian Stokes finally find out about Nick and Greg. Post-Grave Danger, and written for the LJ 25fluffyfics challenge (prompt #12, 'hurt').

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It was all he could do to not go crazy. He thought when he got out of the box that it would all be over, but all he had achieved was swapping the coffin for a hospital bed. He was weighed down by tubes, and his skin was on fire. He wanted to get up, tear the offending pieces of plastic out of him, and run. But there were so many people coming in and out of his room, checking up on him. Family, friends, doctors, nurses. A never-ending stream. And all he wanted was one person, but he never got to be alone with him.

Nick Stokes first came back into consciousness in the ambulance, and he had been bitterly disappointed when the concerned eyes of Catherine and Warrick swam above him. He looked around him to see if there was a third person present, but they mistook his thrashing for mere agitation; the paramedic gave him another sedative, and he blacked out again.

He was there the next time Nick awoke. Greg Sanders, looking as if the weight of the world was bearing down upon him. He leaned against the wall, hiding himself away in a corner of the hospital room while everybody else fretted and fussed over Nick when they realised he was conscious. Nick wanted nothing more than to tell them all to beat it, but to make Greg stay. But that wasn't the way they were. Nobody knew about them. And even though he was in pain, and he knew Greg was the only one whose touch could give him some semblance of relief, there was still that rational, cautious part of him that thought he couldn't out Greg and himself without discussing it beforehand.

It was all so stupid. He knew Greg must be miserable over in his corner; and here he was, miserable in this bed. But before he could think any further he felt the relief of the drugs claiming him again.




A hand was on his. Strong. Warm. A thumb lightly stroking the back of his hand having found one patch of skin that wasn't reddened and blistered by the bite of the fire ants.

Nick opened his eyes, which was hard as it seemed that they had swollen shut due to the venom of the ants. Wonder of wonders, it was Greg.

Bleary-eyed, Greg managed to smile. "Nicky."

"Where did everybody go?" he croaked.

Greg couldn't help but look crestfallen. "Visiting hours ended. I snuck in."

Nick wanted to reassure him, but the drugs were making him sluggish. He couldn't stand the look on his partner's face. "Good," he finally managed to say. "Driving me nuts. Just wanted you."

Greg brushed his lips over Nick's hand, and kept his head down. Nick became alarmed when Greg began to shake, and he felt the trickle of tears against his skin.

"Greg..." he moaned.

Greg couldn't look up at him. He had wanted to be strong and resilient for Nick, but the release of everything he had been holding in was long overdue.

Although it felt like it took all of his strength, Nick managed to lift Greg's head up so that he looked at him. "Hi," he whispered.

Greg laughed this time. "Hi, yourself," he said, wiping at his face. He leaned up and gingerly passed his lips over Nick's, not wanting to hurt him. He could feel how chapped and raw they were, even against his own; somehow he managed to hold it together.

They didn't get to speak for long. Nick kept drifting in and out of sleep, but words of love and relief were exchanged, and when Nick fell away for the last time that night, Greg curled up in the uncomfortable plastic chair by his bed and tried to sleep himself.




When Nick opened his eyes, Greg was gone again and his parents had taken his place. He wondered at what time Greg had disappeared, and decided that knowing Greg it was probably the last possible second to avoid detection.

And that was how it was for his remaining time in the hospital. His parents were staying at his house, and this gave him a momentary sense of panic, but Greg reassured him that he had already removed any trace of "˜suspicious' material before his parents could settle in there fully. He had said this with a slight smirk, but Nick wasn't amused as it meant Greg was equating suspicious material with any evidence of himself and his belongings.

Greg, in truth, hated it. There was nothing he wanted to do more than crawl into the bed he and Nick shared, and surround himself with Nick's reassuring scent. They spent the majority of their time at Nick's house, simply because he lived in a house and there was more room. When he let himself into his apartment just after Nick's abduction, Greg was alarmed by how little a sense of them there was in this space. He needed something of Nick here with him, and he found himself stealing one of Nick's ratty sweaters and wearing it while he knocked around his own apartment. But gradually the Nick scent faded and was replaced by his own, and it was no longer the talisman he needed.

At work, it was as if Nick's abduction had never happened. New cases came in, and they had to focus upon them. After all, Nick had been saved, right? The world wouldn't stop for them because they needed time to take it all in. Vegas residents weren't going to stop killing each other just because a local CSI almost died. Greg felt resentful. If it had been public knowledge that he and Nick were a couple, they would be arranging leave for him so he could be with Nick. But at the moment he was just another friend who had to work and visit Nick in the hospital in his off-hours, being equated on the same level as Warrick or Sara or Catherine. Or rather lower; he'd had to stay behind, watching as the ambulance bore Nick away to the hospital accompanied by Warrick and Catherine. Not him. Never him.

By the time Nick was allowed to go home, they were both at the breaking point. Jillian and Bill were very warm towards Greg, but in just the same manner that they were to the other CSIs. Jillian especially saw the concern in Greg's eyes, but she had always known they were close friends and her mind was too full of other matters to question it any further. She was worried about her son. The doctors had spoken to them about the likelihood of post-traumatic stress disorder, and Nick certainly seemed on edge. He looked uncomfortable in his own skin, as if it wasn't sitting right on him. He moved around his house as if he was suffering from zoo psychosis, wearing a trail in the carpet as he went from one room to another searching for something that wasn't there.

Jillian was alarmed when she passed by his room and heard him crying. She walked in to find him pressed against his pillows, stifling his sobs as he lay with his back to her.

"Oh, Nick," she whispered. "What can I do to help you through this?"

"You've done everything you can," he replied, his voice calm but his breathing thick and heavy. "There's nothing more you can do."

He had always been a hard one to reach emotionally. Nick felt everything, always had, and always kept it buried deep within. And so Jillian had always worried about him a little more than her other children, especially with the job he had. It was bound to affect him but Nick always took on other people's troubles, sometimes to try and deflect his own.

"But you need something more," she persisted. "Or else you wouldn't be suffering like this." She rested her hand against the heated nape of his neck, thinking that even though so many years had passed it still felt like the nape of her baby boy.

She was shocked to hear the bitterness in his tone.

"I need something more. But..."

He trailed off, and sniffed.

Jillian sat back, and rested her hands in her lap.

Nick didn't continue.

"How can I know if you don't tell me?" she asked in the deafening silence.

Nick sighed heavily, and closed his eyes. He was so tired. He had been denied the one thing he needed since being pulled out of the ground, and the bone-crushing pressure of his loss made him feel as if it might have been easier to succumb in there. But there had been one thing that made him want to hold on, above all others, and it was time to give him his dues. "I need Greg," he said. Finally.

Jillian took a few moments to run through all the scenarios in her head, and then she understood. She squeezed his arm gently, then leant in and kissed him on his scarred forehead. "Okay."

Nick turned, and sat up. "Okay?"

Jillian looked puzzled. "I thought you said that's what you needed."

"But that's all you're going to say?"

"Do you want to add anything to it?"

Nick shook his head, disbelievingly. "Don't you want to know why?"

"I hope you're not thinking your mother has suddenly gone senile, Nicholas Stokes."

"But-"

"Do you want the big speech?"

"No-"

"I can give it to you, if you like."

"I-"

"Do you want me to get Greg over here, or not?"

Even though it hurt to do so, Nick gave a wide smile and nodded silently.

Jillian's eyes suddenly filled with tears at the sight of that smile, the one thing she had been hoping to see before she and Bill had to go back to Texas.

"Mom..."

She leaned in and kissed him where forehead met hairline, and he closed his eyes. "I love you."

There was nothing more to be said between them at that point in time; of course, there might be some questions later, here and there, but right now they weren't necessary. Although Nick had the immediate dread of what his father's response might be, those fears were overcome by his need of Greg to be by his side right now. He lay back down fully, hoping that when he next opened his eyes Greg would be there.

Jillian moved back to the dining room, where Bill sat at the table with the newspaper spread before him. He pulled his glasses off as his wife entered, and looked at her expectantly. "How is he?"

"I think he'll be okay," she said, truthfully. "I just have to make a phone call."




Greg lay diagonally across his bed, his feet dangling off the edge. He tried to concentrate on his book, but it was impossible. His eyes drifted over to where a framed photo of himself and Nick sat on his bedside table. He pulled it down for a closer inspection. Sara had taken it one day when she was testing one of the new cameras that the lab had finally managed to get out of funding delayed by Ecklie. Nick and Greg had been talking, and she snapped off a quick shot which caught them in a candid moment.

It was one which, with hindsight, anybody would have said captured two people obviously enraptured with each other, but which both parties involved believed represented a one-sided attraction. It wasn't that long after Greg had started at the lab; his hair was probably at one of its spikiest stages. They were both wearing labcoats, and Greg was staring down at the table, and Nick happened to be both looking at what he was pointing at and keeping an eye on Greg at the same time. They were laughing; Nick's infamous dimples were practically canyons.

The photo was torturous to Greg when he still believed the attraction was only one sided. He used to look at the photo and half-convince himself that the look on Nick's face was one of affection, but he would always end up putting it down to that surrogate-little-brother mentality everyone in the lab seemed to have towards him at one time or another. However, once he and Nick got together, the Polaroid became evidence that had been there all along, stupidly misread.

It was equally torturous today because Greg now had the man in reality, but this photo was once again the closest thing he had to Nick at the moment. When the phone rang and jolted him out of his mental self-flagellation, he hoped it was Nick and practically fell off the bed in order to grab his cell.

"Sanders," he said breathlessly.

"Greg?" came a female voice on the other end.

Greg's nose wrinkled as he tried to figure out who it was. "Yes?"

"Greg, dear, it's Jillian. Jillian Stokes."

Greg sat back on his bed heavily. "Uh, hi, Mrs Stokes. How's Nick? Is he okay?" He didn't mean to sound too panicky, but why was Nick's mother calling him instead of Nick himself?

There was a pause, and Greg had to check to make sure the call hadn't been disconnected. He was relieved that it hadn't.

"He's not too good, actually," Jillian admitted. "He's asking for you."

Greg felt his stomach twist, and he believed it had fallen into his Converse.

"He needs you here." Jillian swallowed, trying to convey everything she meant in one simple sentence. To let him know she knew, that she didn't mind, that she approved. Not that she believed he needed her approval, but it would be nice to give it anyway. "Like normal."

Yes, that was definitely his stomach sliding into his shoes. Greg self-defensively crossed his arms over his stomach, trying to ascertain whether he was still breathing.

"Greg?" Jillian asked.

He somehow managed to find his voice. "Yes. I'll be there in about ten."

"Good," Jillian replied. "See you then, dear."

Greg disconnected the call, and before he had time to let any of the past three minutes sink in, he started throwing together some clothes and toiletries into a bag before he lost the nerve to go to Nick's.





Bill was briefed before Greg's arrival. Before he even had time to formulate a response, his wife of over forty years interrupted him.

"Honey," she said firmly, "now is not the time to question anything. Nick needs him. It's our time to step away and let the person he needs to help him do it."

She could see that he had much he wanted to ask her, but she really didn't have many answers for him. Sometimes as parents you had to let that information filter to you slowly, and just know how much or how little to do at certain moments.

Outside, Greg had faltered at Nick's front door. He felt stupid knocking, so he pulled out his keys and let himself in. At the sound of the key in the door, Bill and Jillian stood and moved over to greet their son's partner.

Greg involuntarily froze when he saw them standing before him expectantly.

"Uh, hi," he croaked.

"Hello," Bill and Jillian replied in unison.

Greg nervously held onto the strap of his gym bag. His throat was dry, and he swore he could hear a clock ticking somewhere, although Nick's clocks were digital.

Jillian touched his arm gently. "He's in his room, dear."

"Uh, I better go in and see how he is," Greg murmured.

Feeling as if their eyes were boring holes into his back, Greg fled to Nick's, their, bedroom and opened the door quietly. Nick had his back to him, but he rolled over to see who it was, and once he realised it was Greg he was jumping up even though his muscles screamed at the sudden movement. Greg was taken by surprise and fell against the door, which closed under his weight. He embraced Nick soundlessly and they clung to each other in the dark, fully touching for the first time since Nick had been pulled out of the ground what had seemed like an eternity before.





It had been a while since Greg had disappeared into Nick's bedroom, and Jillian and Bill sat in the living room, waiting for any sign that the two of them might emerge.

Jillian cleared her throat, then said quietly, "It doesn't change anything."

Bill toyed with the end of his glasses. "Of course it does. It's naïve to suggest it won't."

Having known him for as long as she had, Jillian knew what he was suggesting. Things would change, but they were speaking on two different levels. "I meant it doesn't change anything about how we feel about him."

Bill looked shocked that she even seemed to think him capable of that. "Of course not!"

She seemed satisfied by that response, and she gave him a small affectionate nudge with her toe. "When he finally said it, and I told him I would call Greg, all the fear and apprehension lifted from him, Bill. Imagine if this had happened to one of us, and we hadn't been able to be there to comfort each other?"

"It would have been hell," Bill said gruffly.

Jillian felt the onset of tears again, and she tried to hold them back. She wanted to ask why Nick had withheld everything from them all these years, but she didn't want to give voice to it. These might be questions that would surface on another night, sometime in the future, but tonight wasn't about her or Bill as parents. It was doing what was best for their son in the next room.

She jumped out of her chair, and Bill was right behind her.

"Maybe we should leave them alone," he whispered.

"I just have to make sure they're fine before we go," she replied, as if Nick was a child again that she had to check in the night.

Hearing no sound at all from within the room, she rested her hand on the doorknob briefly, and knocked gently with her other hand. There was no response, but she persevered and opened the door slowly.

The room was dark within, but the light from the hall fell across the bed and they could make out the two men lying upon the covers. They were both asleep, and entwined in a tight embrace. Nick had an expression of peace that she had searched his face for in vain all week. Greg hadn't even kicked his shoes off, and Jillian had to fight the motherly urge to go and remove them for him. She closed the door, and although she felt a wave of sadness that her last child now had a partner who would come first, a partner that was the first person they looked for when they needed comfort, she turned to Bill and managed a smile.

"It's time for us to go home. We're not needed yet."

Parents were always needed. But Nick now had the person who would take care of him as he recovered. And that was all Jillian Stokes cared about, that her child was finally safe and happy.

***