Title: Facing Up...
Author: Dee
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2906
Pairings: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil, Nick and some team members
Warnings: Fluff and AU
Spoilers: Season One
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine!
Beta: jayceepat and podga for their invaluable help in the Americanisation of the fic and their insightful comments - which I may well have ignored! I thank high_striker for his wonderful icons. I am indebted to them all. Any errors are mine.
A/N: This is my take on what could have happened......and once again my friend Sarah B liked this one!


Nick was devastated. He felt his eyes start to fill up and unbelievably he was sure his bottom lip was starting to quiver.

"NO. NO. NO. I am NOT going to cry in front of them...him.....I. AM. NOT." He was willing himself to maintain some semblance of control, but God he'd had enough, he really had.

He managed to regain his control and just looked up at the two men - they weren't paying him any attention - no change there then - so he was okay and he left without making a response to them. He went to the locker room and then into the bathroom. He splashed cold water over his face and wiped a wet hand over the back of his neck.

He looked up at himself in the mirror and let out a resigned sigh. It wasn't the way he'd ever envisaged the move to Vegas panning out but he knew, absolutely, in that very moment, it was over. He was going to get the hell out of Dodge - he smirked at his feeble joke. 'Yeah...feeble.....like me.' He thought.

Nick had come to Vegas after the forensic journal he subscribed to had advertised vacancies at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, He'd applied, been interviewed and he was overjoyed to be offered a position in the lab AND on the team with the great Gil Grissom.

It was a dream come true. Gilbert Grissom was a legend in the field of forensics science. He was one of the top Forensic Entomologists in the United States and was often consulted by foreign criminal agencies.

Nick wasn't particularly enamoured of bugs but just working with and learning from Grissom was a challenge he was going to relish and do all he could to aspire to the same standards. That was a mistake.

He'd been surprised by the man, he wasn't a supervisor then, just a senior member of the team, but even before he'd been promoted everyone deferred to him and Nick could understand why - there wasn't anything he didn't know.

The lab techs all had their specialties - but Grissom appeared to know as much as they did about their subjects, all of them and everything. He was a walking encyclopaedia about forensics, but if bugs were mentioned he would light up like a beacon and become a different man, almost. He became passionate. That's not to say he didn't appear to be passionate at other times - except that he didn't. He was a kind man, Nick was sure, but he had no social graces, he didn't become 'involved'. Nick didn't know if that was deliberate or not, but he suspected 'not'.

Word around the lab was that he had dated here and there but never more than twice with the same woman. The only passion he had was for his bugs and the ladies weren't going to play second fiddle to any creepy crawlies!

But, working with Grissom, as he was known by most people was a great experience for Nick and he was thirsty for knowledge and - this is what began his slippery slope to today - approval. Nick supposed it was approval as a CSI but probably also as a man.

Nick was the youngest of seven born into a powerful Texan family. His Daddy was a Judge, his Momma, an attorney, all his siblings were in high profile jobs, even his sister-in-law and his five brothers-in law. They all held professional well paid jobs; they were all 'upwardly mobile'. Geez, even his older nieces and nephews were following the same high achieving game plan.

And, little Nicky? Well plainly a disappointment to them all. His grades were just as good as the rest of the siblings, he went to college and university, he was even a frat boy, but he could never summon up enough enthusiasm to pursue anything that they suggested, law, medicine, (the preferred options) teaching....something scholarly anyway. His tardiness at choosing a professional pathway had earned him many 'man to man' talks from his Daddy, and 'we only want what's best for you' chats from his Momma.

They were all aghast when he signed up to be a medic, an EMT, the guy in the back of the ambulance. They ALL knew he could do better. He had, in truth, quickly, become bored with all the blood and gore - not that he was in the least bothered by it - but it was all predictable. So, he moved into law enforcement as a rookie with the Dallas PD. The family had another collective paroxysm, and again, as if to prove them all right he had become bored within a couple of years - his record was good and they wanted him to stay but something else had caught his eye - and this time he'd discovered his passion.

He'd just been nosy at first. 'What are you doin'?' 'Why are you doin' it?' morphed into 'Can I do anythin' to help?' Mostly the Dallas PD criminalists had told him to get lost but a few of them had been interested in his interest. That 'interest' went a long way and soon he was researching what he had to do to, how he could do it and in no time at all he was back in college doing a post graduate course in Forensic Science.

Dallas PD gave him a job again and this time he stayed focussed, and in a few months he was absolutely sure that this was what he wanted to do - he'd found his 'professional path'. His family, naturally, thought that he was drifting and that he needed to 're-evaluate' his life and make some 'stark' choices very quickly if he was to catch up on his family's mission for him. It seemed no one was particularly interested in what Nick wanted.

No change there then.

He'd made excellent progress in Dallas - but he was finding his family increasingly oppressive - and there were some members of the team who resented his 'connections', not that he'd EVER called in a favour. (Little did anyone know that he was about the last man on the planet that HIS family would favour.) Some CSIs even resented his close relationship with the cops - they were actually portrayed as the 'enemy' by some CSIs.

The decision to look for a position outside Texas was very easy to make, once he'd decided that it was the best way forward. So easy in fact he couldn't imagine for the life of him why he'd never considered it before. And that's how he'd ended up as a CSI 1 in Vegas.

It was strange though, because, for once, his family couldn't manage one objection, between them, to his leaving.

Nick stared at his reflection and made his mind up once more - it was easy to do once he'd decided that it was the best way forward.

He went back to the lab with a marginally lighter step and heart than when he'd walked away a few minutes earlier. He would formulate a plan and work his way towards new goals. 'Man, he was an expert at this'.

Warrick was his best friend at the lab and it was Warrick who first noticed that something wasn't quite right with Nick. Warrick thought that Nick was quieter than he'd ever known him to be - their banter seemed to have disappeared overnight and Nick wasn't joking with anyone any more. If he had to put a finger on it he would have said that Nick was 'sad'.

As far as Warrick knew Nick hadn't had any bad news, or problems with the ladies, not that he dated much anyway, especially after that fracas with the dead prostitute. But even after that Nick had pulled himself back together and worked long and hard to redeem himself - Warrick thought that he had.

So Warrick decided he was going to discover Nick's problem and restore the status quo.

Nick being stubborn was something no-one at the crime lab had ever seen - he was somewhat renowned for being, not exactly a pushover, but amenable and good natured and 'willing'.

His team began to notice this new behavioural pattern - not Grissom of course, but Warrick and Catherine and even Sara. Super Dave noticed he'd become 'Dave', Doc Robbins became Doctor and Greg couldn't get a rise out of Nick as much as he tried. Brass thought that Nick had suddenly become serious and Sofia, well, Sofia still fancied the pants off him!

Nick refused post shift breakfasts, offers to train in tandem at the gym, bars, bowling, every invitation issued his way was politely, but firmly, declined. This brought Warrick to his door one sunny morning. Their shift had just ended and Warrick hoped he hadn't gone straight to bed. His truck was outside his condo, so he was in. Warrick's banging on his door had Nick grumbling as he answered.

"What the fuck Warrick? Where's the fire?"

This was exactly what Warrick had noticed, bad tempered Nick was a new phenomenon.

"Nick, I want to know what's going on, this is not you, so cut the crap, and let's get straight to the point." He barged past Nick into his lounge area, and noticed immediately, he was a CSI after all, that Nick's condo, which was usually spotless and tidy, was frankly, a mess.

Warrick swept his gaze around the room; there were journals strewn across the floor and the coffee table and couch. There were papers everywhere, old empty coffee cups and food plates. Nick's computer was on and the same mess surrounded the keyboard.

"Okay Nick spill it, what's going on?"

"Nothing 'Rick." Nick's earlier outburst at Warrick had dissipated. He felt ashamed that he should have spoken to the guy, who was his closest friend, in the manner he had. But, that aside, he was not about to confide in him 'cause he'd be trying to talk him out of it and that'd be a waste of 'Rick's breath and a waste of his time.

"Oh....come on Nick, I'm neither blind nor stupid and I'm worried 'bout you."

Trust 'Rick to go straight for the heart strings, well Nicky boy had hardened his heart these last coupla' weeks, seriously hardened it.

"Well there is some stuff going on 'Rick but y'know, family stuff an' all, and I'd rather not spill my guts just yet." Nick hoped that he'd told a convincing lie and followed up with "...you wanna drink man?"

Warrick was more than half way taken in with the deception, he knew it wasn't quite the truth, but couldn't call Nick on a downright lie.

"You got a soda?"

"On its way."

Nick's absence for a few seconds gave Warrick the opportunity to look around the room more closely. The journals were forensic publications. More than Nick normally had, and different publications. He wondered if Nick was researching prior to writing an article or trying to find something specific. How his family fitted in was a mystery and Warrick was sure they didn't, Nick had never said but he had the distinct impression that Nick and his enormous family were not close - as far as he knew, Nick was the only member living outside of Texas.

Nick returned with a soda.

"Look, I'm not going to pry and I do respect your privacy, but I really hope that if you have some shit, Nick, you'll let me help you in any way I can - you know - friends an' all!" Warrick's impassioned plea again gave Nick cause for a guilt trip. But he was resolute.

"If I thought you could help 'Rick you'd be the first, man, I promise, but just now I need to keep my head down and sort stuff...okay?" This was at least the truth and Nick felt more comfortable.

They settled into a comfortable silence and then exchanged a few work stories and a few sports stories and Warrick was ready to leave.

"I meant what I said Nick." He said as he made his way to the door.

"So did I 'Rick, so did I." They knocked their knuckles together and Warrick left.

Nick stood with his back to the door for a few moments and he did regret his actions, but not for long. He spent the next couple of hours cleaning his place - he'd been stupid to let it slide and cause Warrick to become suspicious.

The next 'concerned for Nick's welfare' visit was Catherine. It actually wasn't a visit; they were on their way back from a crime scene and had pulled up at a diner in desperate need of food and drink, not to mention a bathroom break.

They'd had their coffees and were waiting for their order when Catherine went for the same 'subtle' approach as Warrick.

"What's going on Nicky, you've changed these last couple of weeks into someone I don't recognise?" she looked him straight in the eye and fully expected him to tell her everything there and then.

"I've had all this from 'Rick, Cath, and I'll tell you the same. I've gotta loada stuff goin' on with family and I'm trying to sort through it. It's kinda personal Cath and I ain't ready to share yet!" Nick thought his delivery was slicker than before, he'd practised and he was more forceful than he'd been with 'Rick.

Catherine took about three seconds to disbelieve him. "Bullshit Nick, I don't think your family would bother you like this, you've never said anything about them, never given any indication that you're close or even that you're in touch with them!"

Nick was stunned, he'd thought he'd been slick and had been caught on the first ball. He had no chance to regroup because his face betrayed him.

"I, I, I......" he began, "Cath....." he tried again. "It's personal Cath, real personal..." he was back on track now, "....I've gotta problem, you're right, it's not my family, but it is personal and I can't tell you Cath, I'm sorry but I can't." His delivery had got stronger as he'd continued. This had the benefit of being the truth and he was employing his little boy lost demeanour that usually worked well on women, but did that include Catherine?

"I see Nick." This was in a much more sympathetic tone.

It had worked! "Actually you don't Cath, you don't see, and I'm afraid that at this...stage... I can't tell you...but I will soon, I promise." Nick thought that he had turned the tables in his favour.

"If you promise Nicky" she said, sincerely.

"I do." He replied, knowing that they would all know when he was good and ready to tell them and not a moment before.

Nick tried to modify his behaviour to fend off these attacks, but his mood made it impossible and he couldn't lift his mood as much as he tried. Two weeks later he took three days personal time, citing 'family reasons' to Grissom, who seemed unconcerned at the short notice of the request. 'Another time I won't be missed', was Nick's thought on the matter.

It was eight weeks after his 'epiphany' that Nick delivered his news, just to Grissom at first. Just before he was leaving work, late, one morning, he strode purposefully into Grissom's office, he'd expected him to be there - he was. He put the white envelope on the desk in front of Grissom.

"My resignation, Grissom." He said, and turned and left. He was secretly, no not secretly, happy, because, for the first time in weeks (months), he had a face aching grin plastered across his face, at the stunned expression on the unflappable face of Gil Grissom.

He was happy. He kept telling himself that he was and that should have been enough. It wasn't, of course, because he had coveted his position at the elite LVPD lab. To be part of Grissom's team had meant everything to him when he'd arrived. He knew he'd screwed up, pulled some mind bogglingly stupid stunts, he'd be a fool not to acknowledge that, but he'd worked hard to rebuild his credibility, he really had, but for nothing, because in the end he might not have existed, his hard work meant nothing and it looked as if his family had been right all along.

He'd ignored their advice, chosen his own career path, not 'professional' in their sense of the word and he'd prove them right.

He got home and made himself a drink, a JD over ice - his preferred method of inducing an alcoholic haze. He lay on his couch, toed his shoes off and stared at the ceiling. He was 'professional' alright, a professional fucker up of his life. The tears that he'd fought hard to contain all those weeks ago, started to fall, scalding hot down the side of his face and into his ears. He gave in and curled up onto his side and sobbed and sobbed, he couldn't recall ever feeling so 'empty'; it seemed he'd had what he wanted for the first time in his adult life and it had just slipped through his fingers. He pressed his face into a cushion and was wracked by his sobs.

He must have fallen asleep. The next thing he knew he was waking up to banging on his door. Without thought he dragged himself to his feet and walked over and opened the door.

Nick was astounded. He just stared. At Gil Grissom. If he'd been asked who was the least likely person, in the entire universe. to be at his door, he'd have replied, 'Gil Grissom'.

Grissom pushed past him and entered his condo uninvited. Nick stood in the same position for a few moments longer, and then came partially to his senses, closed the door and turned to face the man he'd come to loathe.

Grissom broke the silence. "Drinking, Nick?" he said as he looked at the drink on the coffee table.

"No, I had intended to but I fell asleep, what's it to you anyway, I'm not at work, not on call?" He'd suddenly found his balls - he liked the sensation and Grissom looked surprised at the comeback.

"Well no one should drink alone Nick, how 'bout I join you?" This time Grissom was smirking.

"Okay, please yourself but I've only got JD, want that, or a beer?"

"If you've got coke, I'll have the JD, I'm quite partial actually."

"I'll get it then." Nick went into his kitchen on auto pilot and fixed the drink.

"You driving?" Nick asked as he returned with the JD with ice and a can of coke for Grissom to use. Grissom had taken off his jacket and had sat himself down on the end of the couch...Nick remembered his emotional breakdown on that very couch, how long ago it had been he couldn't rightly say, but, he'd bet his last dollar he looked like shit, like he'd been crying. He could feel the flush start on his neck and then make its way up his face.

"I'll be here for some time Nicky, my boy, so one drink'll probably have worked its way out of my system by then." Grissom suddenly seemed pleasant, almost human.

Nick was stunned; it had been a long time - over a year maybe - since he'd been called 'Nicky, his boy'. "Some time? Why would you be here some time?" Nick managed to ask.

"To get to the bottom of this resignation, Nick. Why would one of my team, an excellent CSI in whom I've invested time and energy to train, with potential to be the best, forsake the second best lab in the country? Where d'you think you're going and why?"

This was possibly the longest pronouncement Nick had ever heard Gil make. How come, after all this time he'd just become positively verbose? And then the actual words struck him. 'Excellent'. 'Potential'. 'Best'. Grissom was saying these words in relation to him, Nick Stokes. Him? Him? He was stunned into silence and just stared at Grissom. He couldn't believe it and would you know it that before he could stop himself, big, fat, juicy tears were once more rolling down his cheeks.

Grissom was shocked, he'd thought Nick's face was just flushed from sleep and then drink, when he'd seen the drink on the coffee table. He had absolutely no idea what to do - where was Catherine when he needed her, really needed her?

Nick stood motionless and soundless. Grissom suddenly knew what he should do, but could he do it? He took several deep breaths and stood up. He moved the short distance to stand in front of Nick and put his arms up and around Nick, in an awkward bear hug.

The floodgates well and truly opened for Nick and he virtually collapsed into Grissom's arms burying his face in his shoulder and grabbing the front of his shirt in two fists. His sobs were shaking his body and his tears soaking Grissom's shirt. He was past caring.

Grissom held him and started to relax into the hug. He started to rub his hands up and down Nick's back and rock to and fro, just a little, and he surprised himself when he started murmuring soothing words, sounds really, to Nick. This was way outside his comfort zone and yet......he felt strangely comfortable.

Nick sobbed for some time, but gradually, Grissom's soothing gestures and words penetrated his consciousness.

"Oh man, I am sooo sorry." He hiccoughed out these words.

"It's absolutely fine, absolutely fine, just take your time, I'm not going anywhere."

While Gil heard himself saying these words in a soft and soothing voice, at the same time he wondered where on earth he'd managed to find them. And then it hit him, it was his mom, his own mom, that's what she'd said to him when he was a little boy and was hurt and in need of comfort. For some reason this realisation caused Gil to feel a little emotional....his mom had died a few years back and he missed her, a lot, she'd been the sole comfort in his life.

He hugged Nick tighter. "I promise you that I'll try and make it better Nick, I promise you I'll try, whatever it is."

Of course these words only made Nick start crying again. Not as all consuming as before but bad enough. He'd thought he'd exhausted his supply of tears. A little while later Nick felt composed enough to relinquish the hug and stumbled onto the couch, elbows on knees and face held in his hands.

Grissom sat beside him, he could feel the heat from his body and it was comforting. He really needed to blow his nose and wipe his face. He looked sideways at Grissom, whose posture mirrored his own, except for the head in the hands part.

Grissom spoke softly. "Seems to me that dam had been waiting to burst for some time, eh Nicky?"

"Mmm." Was all he could manage, he felt drained, the analogy was right, the waters had drained out. He was shaky, but he got to his feet and made his way to the bathroom. He blew his nose several times on toilet paper and flushed it away, then stood at the sink and turned on the faucet for the cold water. He glanced up at the mirror but didn't see his own reflection, but Grissom's, standing in the doorway behind him. He looked like he cared. Had Nick ever seen this look before? He knew he hadn't.

He splashed his face with cold water and then rubbed it vigorously with a towel. He felt marginally better.

"Shall I get us both a hot drink, it'll probably be better than alcohol?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah.....coffee sounds good." Nick was thankful that his voice seemed steady and gravelly - better than squeaky, he thought.

Grissom left him standing there and he paused, towel in hand, to think about what had just happened. He thought that he should be feeling foolish. He was used to Grissom making him feel foolish anyway, but that was it, he didn't feel foolish, he felt, what, relieved, calm even.

Nick made his way to his kitchen and it looked as if Grissom had located what he needed and had all angles covered, so Nick went back to the lounge. He retrieved the abandoned drinks and brought them into the kitchen dumping them down the sink.

"Now that's a waste of good liquor." Grissom looked ruefully at the sink.

"Ice melted, no good to man or beast." Nick felt relaxed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed.

"We must be getting old Nick, don't you remember in college, no matter what the state of it was, alcohol was alcohol and must be drunk regardless!"

"I do remember, yeah, I do. Never took you to be a frat boy type though."

"I was never in a fraternity, Nick, but that doesn't mean I didn't appreciate the importance of alcohol in the life of a student."

Nick had learned more about Grissom in the last twenty seconds than he had in the preceding year. He was amazed. The coffee was ready and two cups were poured. Grissom carried them to the lounge and set them on the coffee table and sat down once more. Nick followed him back and sat down beside him.

"I've got the distinct feeling that this isn't going to be easy for either of us Nick, but we have started and I think that you, well.....you need to tell me what's going on." Grissom was not looking at Nick as he spoke to him.

"Catherine told me that something was wrong some weeks ago, as usual I chose to ignore it, in the hope that it would go away, cure itself. When you asked for those vacation days I thought it was to sort out whatever it was that was wrong and everything would go back to normal, but that was a job interview wasn't it?" He glanced at Nick, who nodded.

"What's the job then? Where?"

"CSI 2. Charlotte, North Carolina."

"A demotion Nick? And not a well known lab."

"It's all I could find at short notice and I wanted to be well away from Vegas. I thought...well I thought......that I wouldn't get a recommendation for level three from...." Nick's voice grew quieter and he left the sentence unfinished.

"From me Nick, you mean me, don't you?"

Nick nodded once more, he couldn't look up and for the life of him he didn't want the tears starting again.

"Oh, God, Nicky, what on earth have I done to you to make you lose your self esteem, to have you doubt yourself so badly? How have I managed to fuck you up?"

Nick thought Grissom sounded wounded, as if he was about to cry, and that thought alone kept him dry eyed, he looked around at Grissom's stricken face. He'd never even heard him use a profanity before. He took a very deep breath.

"I sound pathetic I know...but...well.....I can't do ANYTHIN' right for you. I try real hard all the time and I know I've fucked up badly in the past and I have to earn your respect but so do the others. Man. I love 'Rick but he left Holly alone and she died, she was one of us and she died - he was gamblin' on duty - but you've forgiven 'Rick. YOU even left Holly alone on that first shift. You even put 'Rick in charge of the shift - I'm more senior but you never said a word to me about why you'd chosen him, over me and Sara. And then there's Sara...." The water may have dried up, but the verbal dam had truly burst and there was no stopping him now. "I know she's good, man, she's the female version of you, but she's rude to people in the lab and she thinks subordination is a game to play, but still ya' think she's God's gift and can do no wrong......" he gulped down air to continue, he didn't dare look at Grissom now.

"There's been more stuff than I can even remember Grissom but d'ya know what it was.....d'y'know what the straw was, man, that broke the camel's back, my back Grissom?" He did look now and found Grissom looking at him, mouth slightly open and shocked - that was the expression - shocked. Grissom shook his head, just a little.

"That case about eight weeks back, the double murder of the Homers? I discovered the link Grissom, and I knew who'd done it, he was in custody and I had him backed in a corner; I just needed the DNA proof to confront him and Greg did the test to prove MY theory right. Who did you thank Grissom? Who did you thank?" Nick was shouting now although his voice still sounded thick from his crying.

Grissom hadn't moved but Nick saw him flinch. "Greg, I thanked Greg."

"YES YOU DID. My case, my case, and you thanked Greg, patted him on the back and thanked him. Ignored me. I was standin' right there Gris, ya' never even looked at me man, ya' never even looked at me......."

The wind had left his sails and he lay back against the back of the couch, he was breathing hard but wasn't about to cry, he'd exhausted himself but he'd had his say. He'd never released such a tirade against anyone in his life. At least he had a job to go to, God, he hoped Grissom wouldn't block it after the way he'd just spoken to him. He shivered at the thought that he may have burnt a vital bridge on his escape route.

He chanced a look at Grissom, and was surprised to see him in exactly the same position as before with an even more shocked look about him.

"I, I don't know what to say Nick.......I really don't. I need to think about this, to process what you've said to me, about me. But Nick?" He looked at Nick and momentarily made eye contact. "You're right Nick; I know you're right, even as you said those things I knew they were right, but I never thought about it, never, until now, I don't know Nick, I just don't know........"

Grissom appeared to Nick to be rambling; he'd never heard the man utter one sentence so apparently incoherently. He was taken aback at the words, the ready admission of guilt and the incomprehension in Grissom's voice and demeanour. Actually, Nick felt suddenly powerful - he had reduced Grissom to this, this state. It was like being with a suspect who'd suddenly admitted their guilt to a crime. And what the hell, Grissom was guilty, he'd made his life a misery for months now - this was payback.

But, Nick was still Nick and the victory was short lived. He soon regretted that he'd reduced Grissom to this display of self doubt. Wasn't that his domain? Grissom was in control, all the time, and Nick was thrown by Grissom's unexpected questioning of his own actions.

They sat in silence for quite a few minutes and it wasn't a 'comfortable' silence, like they talk about in books. The coffees had gone cold, untouched. Nick made a sudden movement to retrieve them, intending to get fresh ones. But his movement caused Grissom to jump, startled. He looked at Nick and Nick kept the eye contact.

"I'm sorry. I don't want you to leave, but I'll understand if you do. I need some time with this Nick, will you give me some time, I don't deserve it, I know I don't, but don't commit yourself to leaving just yet, please?"

This was better than his previous statement, a more flowing speech than before and Nick was feeling calmer, but he didn't think he could be that coherent in replying to this 'new' type of Grissom.

"Er......yeah...okay....yeah." Nick paused and then continued, "Well...just how long Gris?" This was first time he'd used the nickname in a long time.

"Days Nick. A couple of days, you've given me considerable food for thought...I need to think it through...."

Now this was more like Grissom, he'd regrouped and was getting back to his normal self. He'd admitted his guilt to Nick, but did this mean that when he'd looked at the 'evidence' he'd rescind that admission and his status quo would be returned and Nick would still be on his way to Charlotte. Grissom obviously saw this flicker of apprehension in Nick and reached out and put a hand on Nick's shoulder.

"I meant what I said Nick, I've behaved badly toward you, I know I have, but I want to know why. Whatever possessed me to treat you so differently from the rest - and you're right, you have pulled some idiotic stunts, but haven't we all Nick, haven't we all."

These weren't questions they were statements.

Nick took a deep breath. "Alright then, I can live with it for a few days longer." And he tried a tentative smile - and he was rewarded with a similarly tentative one from Gris.

"I'll get going then - are you okay? Do I need to stay a little longer?"

"No, I'm okay; actually, I feel better than I have in a long time.

"I'm not surprised Nick, you've been carrying a load there and it'd appear I've been adding to it, brick by brick. Will I see you tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah, you will."

Grissom walked to the door picking up his jacket as he went, he turned as he opened the door and to his, and certainly Nick Stokes' amazement, ruffled Nick's hair in a friendly, comforting manner - something else his mom did to him when he was a boy - and then turned and left.

Not long after Gris' departure Nick stood under cool water in his shower. He'd felt hot, not like he had a temperature, but like he'd done hard physical exercise - without the sweat. He'd done nothing of the sort, but after Gris had left he'd sat on the couch and thought about what had happened between them.

It was strange but after the time that he'd just spent with Gris he'd felt better than he had in months.......and some. Nick knew that the emotional release of his crying had loosened his feelings, and his outburst at Gris had come from his heart, not his head. He was shocked at himself for how it had all come spilling out and once he'd started he couldn't stop - and truthfully didn't want to.

When he'd sagged back into the couch he'd felt initially that he had really screwed it up - telling Gris what he thought about Gris's own behaviour. But, after a stunned silence, the shock on Gris's face seemed to change to realisation and then he'd made his admission to Nick that what Nick had said was TRUE! Nick had never seen Gris so inarticulate - he had recovered quite quickly - and had then promised that he would think about it - like the evidence at a crime scene; an internal investigation Nick supposed, to discover why he had treated Nick so differently from the others.

Nick had chuckled at the analogy because that was exactly what Gris would do, and Nick was confident that at least he would find out what had gone so wrong in their working relationship. Nick became, what he hoped was 'quietly confident', and that perhaps he wouldn't have to go to Charlotte after all.

As he finished his shower and stepped out of the tub to dry off he chuckled again. He really did feel so much better than he had in ages, he felt relaxed and knew that when he got into his bed in a few minutes time he'd sleep properly. He sincerely hoped that his dreams would be pleasant - maybe watching birds soar on the thermals in the canyon -rather than remember his father pointing at him and saying over and over again, 'I told you so. I told you so.', with Nick's siblings standing behind their father cackling their agreement. Nick shuddered at this memory.

So, a weary Nick climbed into his bed, snuggled down and within moments was asleep and while it wasn't birds in the canyon that filled his dreams it wasn't his father and family either. In fact, although he couldn't quite remember, he thought he'd dreamed about riding bareback on a galloping horse across the dry Nevada desert with clouds of dust in his eyes...... When he pulled himself into the land of the living his eyes were dry and gritty. 'Dumbass', he thought, 'you've left your lenses in!'

Nick had a hot shower this time, though he was pretty sure he was clean enough - it woke him up and he had that sort of enthusiasm he hadn't felt for such a long time. He was actually looking forward to work. He'd hardly any food in his condo so he left a little early and stopped at a diner he hadn't used for a while. They greeted him like a long lost whatever, and that cheered him, and he had his fill of healthy options - hey, he was concerned about his cholesterol and blood pressure - and then made his way to the lab. He sang along to his radio, an old Johnny Cash number, and arrived early for his shift.

Everyone else was early too, they were all keen. But, the sight of a jovial Nick was too much for two people. Warrick was dumbfounded and Catherine was flabbergasted - or it could have been the other way round.

They were shocked; Nick could see that and then he thought he was counting his chickens.......what if he was jumping to the wrong conclusion about Grissom? He'd had so many false starts that this could be another one. He went to the bathroom and saw a happier face staring back at him, but as he looked he modified the expression. 'Keep cool man, keep cool.'

He went back out to the locker room and once again Warrick and Catherine looked at him - this time sharing a perplexed expression - at the less enthusiastic face of their friend. 'Better be safe, than sorry'. Nick thought and then wondered off with a perplexed expression of his own. His metaphors were doing well tonight, what about 'Every good boy.......' Wasn't a metaphor, wasn't it a mnemonic, he thought?

Handing out their assignments Grissom looked exactly the same as ever. There was absolutely no hint of their exchange earlier that day. Except, when Grissom had finished allocating the crime scenes to the crime scene investigators, he announced that he would accompany Nick.

It wasn't unusual, he did go out with Nick on occasion, but Nick's mouth went dry, his heart started pounding and he was sure he'd started to blush. No one appeared to notice, so he nodded and left the room to collect his kit. "We'll use my truck." He heard Grissom say as he left and glanced back to acknowledge the man.

Nick avoided the others and made his way as soon as he could to Gris' truck - he had a few minutes to collect himself when he heard him approach; he was being harangued by Sara over some court appearance, by the sound of it. That matter seemed to be sorted and the truck doors clicked open. Nick stowed his kit and then climbed aboard and buckled up. Neither man had spoken.

Their journey would take about an hour, a suspicious death out near Boulder. They were quiet as Grissom manoeuvred the truck out of the Vegas traffic and on to the open road. Grissom seemed to relax and started to speak.

"How are you feeling, Nick?"

"Good, Yeah, I'm good. You?"

"I'm feeling a mixture of things really Nick. Happy that at least I've got to the bottom of your resignation. Contrite, I suppose, that it was my fault. And, I must admit Nick, that I'm still some way off discovering the motive for my behaviour."

Nick thought he could give Gris a helping hand here, "Well y'know Gris there may not be a reason, y'know it might've been just somethin', y'know man.....no real reason....." Nick was making a bad job of this and he knew it

He saw Gris make a quick sideward glance at him and then return his eyes to the road, he looked as if he was 'grinning'. "Oh Nicky, when have you ever known me do something without a reason. I don't know what it is yet, but believe me; I'll get to the bottom of this little mystery and put it right."

This suddenly made Nick worry. "But what if...what if... you find out, well discover, well, that it is my fault and I deserved it Gris?"

"Impossible Nick. Think about it. If YOU had done something wrong that made me behave in this reprehensible manner towards you, it would've been my duty to tell you what you'd done, shout at you if necessary and retrain you if you needed it. Nick I am your supervisor and ultimately responsible for your actions - if you did do something Nick then my behaviour towards you is even worse than I thought."

Grissom didn't appear to be grinning any more. Nick let the words sink in, he did have a point. Even if Nick couldn't remember doing anything really wrong - well apart from Kristy and Grissom had given him a good going over for that anyway - he should have been told about it. This knowledge made him feel a little easier.

"I take it then that you not close to discoverin' why then Gris?"

"I'm going over everything in my head, Nick. I do remember a number of times when I've been short with you, and truthfully Nick I can't see a reason why I should've been. I've tried to remember what I was thinking, or even feeling, and all I can come up with is 'irritation' Nick. Why? I have no idea."

Nick made a snorting noise.

"What's that Nick?"

"Well I could have told y'that you were irritated without you having to do so much thinkin' Gris!"

"Yes, I can accept that Nick." Grissom paused, "You know what has haunted me all day Nick is what you said about the 'straw that broke your back'. I saw myself saying it and I saw myself not looking at you and thanking Greg. I think it was the most serious of my misdemeanours wasn't it?"

Nick took a deep breath. "Yes, it was."

"For just that one incident I am truly sorry and hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me. And that is before all the other instances that I keep remembering."

Nick felt the prickling of tears and suddenly leaned over and opened the passenger door window - even though the cab was air conditioned. Grissom realised the impact his words had and saw a place at the side of the road to pull over. He pulled up and stopped the engine.

"Take a few minutes Nick, please. I didn't mean to do this to you."

Nick got out and walked a few yards from the vehicle, taking in few deep breaths of the cool night air. He looked up into the clear night sky and thought, 'I've got to take control of my life, I'm too old to be behavin' like this'. He was composed after a few minutes and returned to the vehicle.

"See if you can find something to listen to on the radio - but I must warn you Nick, it's not going to be country." The tone of his voice was light and Nick smiled, a really genuine smile for the first time since Gil could not remember when.

Nick's lighter mood had actually darkened Gil Grissom's - he was appalled with himself. What on earth had he done to this man - and why? He knew that his behaviour could easily give rise to a bullying complaint. He also knew that Nick Stokes would move half way across the country to avoid making any accusation about him to anyone. He knew that he had refused to speak to Catherine and Warrick about it and both of them could be persuasive. In his misery Nick had still protected him, still wanted, no, needed, his approval.

Grissom groaned, 'Oh God Nicky', but he was sure it was not loud enough for Nick to hear over the music. He had just uncovered some evidence and in an instant had, at least, partly solved the case.

Approval. This was all about Nick wanting his approval.

Grissom drove on to the crime scene and kept the talk between them professional and low key. He was sure he'd gone some way in cracking the puzzle. But fitting the pieces together and keeping Nick in one piece and in Las Vegas was not going to be easy.

He wished he could get Catherine's opinion and help but he knew that this was his fault and his problem to put right. He was not underestimating his own poor track record in the emotional turmoil stakes. This 'situation' was almost entirely his fault and if he couldn't recognise it when it was going on under his own nose how on earth was he going to put it right.

The crime turned out to be non-existent. They did a proper preliminary exam' but it was clear to Gil and Nick that the death was from 'natural causes'. Gil noticed that Nick had reached his opinion even as Gil had, but Nick seriously doubted his own abilities and Gil knew that he'd been more than a little influence in that state of affairs.

The journey back to the lab was quiet and actually felt quite comfortable. They discussed the scene they'd just examined and listened to an 'easy listening' station with fairly innocuous tunes, not exactly to Gil's liking, but tolerable.

Nick felt better; he'd been dreading the journeys to and from the scene, but apart from his stupid emotional outbreak on the way there, and the decisions he'd made to himself at that time, he'd been okay. Nick was, in truth, a bit concerned about Gris now. This man was not given to any emotional input and here he was being supportive and understanding. He wondered if Catherine had had any input o this change in his behaviour. He'd have to think about that.

The rest of the shift Nick worked on some old case he'd needed to close - he'd been awaiting some specialist evidence from Quantico. The evidence proved Nick's original theory on the case - but not for one moment did Nick consider that he'd done a 'good' job - he'd just done his job. He dropped the file in Grissom's inbox before he left for home. He was still feeling better than he'd done for some time and bid Gris a cheery "See ya." as he left.

Gil sat back in his chair and removed his glasses and chewed on one of the arms. Now that he was sure he was on the way to solving the puzzle, putting it right would take a lot of effort from him, he knew. He couldn't think of any time, at all, when he'd been called upon to invest emotionally in any work related issue. He knew that he'd be very hard pressed to recall even an investment such as this required, in his private life. There were some family issues, but most people had those and dealt with them in some fashion, as he supposed he'd done.

He knew that he had lived most of his life in some isolation, the only child of a deaf mother, his father's death when he was still a boy, his fascination, even at an early age with death and well - bugs - had never been appealing to other children or students and he was always the 'geek'. He was happy in his skin and this job, this was what he devoted his life to, and he made no apologies for it, it was his passion. His only passion.

But, he'd come to realise that the job he'd been almost forced to take on with the supervisory role, carried with it responsibilities he'd never considered. That responsibility was weighing him down at this moment. He knew that he'd have to come up with some sort of plan to drag Nick Stokes out of the abyss he'd fallen in - pushed in more likely, by him.

He really didn't know if he could do it. He was renowned for his emotional detachment; if you'd have asked him a few years ago he would've proudly proclaimed that it was true. He didn't feel proud now - anything but.... He was ashamed and as he thought that, he sat up, replaced his glasses and looked down at the desk top. He was ashamed.

The more he'd thought about Nick the more he'd discovered, in himself, a sort of vindictive streak. He couldn't quite place his finger on it yet but he was getting closer, he knew it was just waiting for some information in his subconscious to surface, and then he'd have the reason. With that reason, he hoped he'd then be able to formulate 'the plan'. Nick's recovery plan - keep him here in Las Vegas - though he was sure that it would be Charlotte's loss.

He took a deep breath and picked up the top file from his inbox, Nick's file. He went through it with a practised eye, and it was as near perfect as it could be. As Nick's files normally were. He presented well, and succinctly, knowing what to emphasise and what not to - all Gil had to do was sign it off, which he did. He knew that he'd never told Nick that his files were always this good.

But, he remembered clearly when he'd told Nick that he wasn't ready for a job. The riddle he'd asked Nick to solve, he'd got it wrong, and Nick had castigated him and asked him to 'be a man' and tell him straight out what he thought. It had taken Nick's own prompting for Gil to tell him he thought he wasn't ready for solo work. Why had Gil thought that, why was he irritated with Nick, why did he treat him differently?

Gil knew some of the answers. It was the prostitute that Nick had befriended and then slept with on the night of her murder. What an idiotic thing to do. But was it any worse than Warrick gambling on the job, leaving Holly Gribbs alone at a scene? Catherine investigating her ex-husband, Sara drawing her gun on an unarmed suspect? The list was seemingly endless and yet he'd drawn the line under the others misdemeanours but not with Nick.

Even he was guilty, he'd left Nick alone at a scene and a woman had pulled a gun on him and, in her deranged state, was about to shoot him.............Gil took a sharp intake of breath and sat up straight in his chair. THAT was it. THAT WAS IT.

Gil packed up his work and left the lab. He was suddenly very weary, he felt old and defeated - he was going home and unusually for him, because he didn't normally drink alone - he thought he might get drunk. He hoped that he would get a nasty, painful and debilitating hangover as some sort of penance for his behaviour. Catholic principles die hard.

When he arrived home he poured himself a glass of whiskey - not his best malt, which would be a waste - and downed it in one gulp. It took his breath away and made his eyes water. 'Not the drinker I used to be', he mused and declined his own offer of another shot. With drunkenness no longer an option he knew he would have to examine his motives about the Hendler fiasco.

He took a hot shower, dressed in sweats and an old tee and with bare feet padded into his kitchen to make himself a sandwich and a tea. That would soothe him. He retreated back to his couch and started the process of unravelling the mystery of his own behaviour towards Nick.

He drank the tea but never even started his sandwich as he became nauseous as he recalled the scene and his subsequent actions. What appalled him most was not that he had done it - he, along with any number of people, was quite capable of vindictive behaviour, of having petty vendettas, as much as he liked to think he was above that sort of thing. But, with Nick he was completely unaware that he was doing it, completely. Nick's outburst had shocked him, mostly because even as Nick had berated him, he'd known it was true.

So, the Hendler woman had murdered her love rival and he'd just arranged the arrest of the husband. Walking to the police vehicle, something had clicked and he'd known they had the wrong Hendler. He'd immediately returned to the house to find Nick at the end of the barrel of her gun. Luckily for once, he had his own gun with him and had managed to diffuse the situation.

Nick had been very close to tears, believing, probably rightly, that he was about to meet his maker. As Gil had escorted the Hendler woman out, he had left Nick on his own - did he return to see if he was okay? 'No'. Did he mention it later? 'No'. Did he do any follow up at all? 'No'.

He had waited outside the house and after a few minutes Nick came out and they returned, in silence, to the lab. He knew that he should have, as a matter of course, referred Nick to the in-house psychologist, but he didn't. He should have, at the very least, asked Nick about it - but he did not.

He didn't do any of these things because he was annoyed and upset. Not at Nicky, no, but at himself for allowing it to happen, for failing his team member. He took out all his own insecurity and faults in respect of the incident on a completely innocent Nick.

Because he, the 'great' Gil Grissom, had failed, and instead of admitting that failure he had, in his own subconscious blamed Nick for making him fail. So it was Nick's fault for being there alone, not Gil's fault for leaving him there alone.

For the second time in a matter of hours Gil felt ashamed. How could he have done this - done it without realising? And caused so much anguish to Nick. He knew the answer to that too - Gil Grissom, a self assured man, confident in his own abilities. He made mistakes, of course he did, but they were quantifiable. Scientific miscalculations or not seeing the relevance of evidence. This incident was out of that realm. This was personal, this mistake could've killed a man; this mistake could have killed Nick.

And he could not face up to that responsibility. So he'd denied Nick basic human comfort by not speaking to him about it. Denied him the proper route to professional help.

But, much worse, worse than anything, he'd then made Nick think his work was not up to scratch because he wouldn't let him work alone. He wouldn't let him work murder scenes alone because Gil was afraid that he might be confronted by another gunman and there would be no one with him to help.

When Gil had been confronted by Nick, Gil had pulled the 'Silk' trick out of his sleeve. Nick had asked him 'to be a man'. It was now plain to Gil that he could not be 'that' man. He had no right to be in the position he was at the lab when this was such a basic character flaw.

In a flash, Gil knew how Nick was feeling, truly feeling. Inadequate for the job and the responsibilities it carried. Not trustworthy. Nick did not deserve to feel like that, but Gil certainly did. Gil jumped up from his couch and just made it to the toilet in his bathroom before emptying his stomach contents into the bowl. He felt wretched and rightly so.

A little while later he was sufficiently recovered physically to make himself another drink, coffee this time - he wasn't going to sleep so the caffeine wouldn't matter. He had to draw up a plan of action. He didn't believe for one minute that an apology alone would salve his conscience or make Nick's world a better place to live.

One thought was that Nick could stay in Las Vegas and he'd take his place in Charlotte. 'Oh good idea Gil, run away, why don't you!' No, his plan had to involve Nick staying put, his credibility restored in everyone's eyes and some serious career evaluation for himself. He shouldn't be allowed to wield such power over another individual and that must be addressed.

Gil did manage some sleep. He had drawn up a rough draft of a plan in his head and then thought that to execute it he'd need to be rested. So he slept in the afternoon for over five hours. When he awoke he showered again, managed some cereal and then set about delivering the goods. Restoring Nick to his proper status and climbing down from his own pedestal and accepting the blame for his wrong doing.

He called Nick and asked to see him at home later that evening. Nick agreed. He called Catherine and asked for a favour. Catherine agreed. He called Mobley to say that he had some serious personnel issues to sort and would get back to him. Mobley didn't seem concerned when Gil assured him the lab would not suffer as a result nor were the press involved. If this 'issue' could be solved without Mobley's intervention he'd be pleased.

Gil left his townhouse to drive to Nick's condo. Nick was waiting for Gil and opened the door before Gil could knock. Ever the good host Nick offered Gil a drink; Gil was sticking to water. Nick seemed relaxed and at ease and Gill thought that'd make his task easier - at least to begin with.

He explained to Nick that they needn't go into work, unless absolutely necessary, until they'd worked through the major part of the plan. Catherine would hand out assignments and had been instructed, on pain of death, only to contact Gil if they were in dire need.

Gil, so confident earlier, suddenly lost his nerve. Confronted with the 'old style' happy Nick he wondered if the road to hell was indeed paved with good intention. It was Gil's perception that by admitting his own duplicity towards Nick he would actually drive Nick away.

The evening started with pleasantries, avoidance tactics, how they'd slept, the weather getting hotter, Nick's need for a more efficient air conditioning unit. As usual, it seemed to Gil, it was Nick who called a halt to this and put them on the right track.

"You got somethin' to say to me Gil, and you got some plans in place so come on get to it, man."

"Nick, yes." Gil took some really deep breaths - he couldn't ever remember being this nervous before.

"I promised you that I'd respond to your accusations, if you gave me time to consider them. I've done that Nick and I've found that I've wronged you, very seriously. I'm ashamed Nick, ashamed at my behaviour."

Nick was sitting back on his couch at the opposite end from Gil, and heard Gil start this sentence in a normal voice but as he progressed his voice became quieter, and he was as serious as Nick had ever heard. He was going to speak but Gil saw him and raised a hand to silence him.

"Please let me tell you Nick, let me get it out in the open and then you can tell me to go to hell."

"Go on then Gris, I want to know and hey, it'll be okay."

Gil smiled at the way Nick had said that, forgiveness ready to be handed out, very much like Gil expected Nick to be - well, before he'd heard what he had to say.

Gil started at the beginning. How he'd really liked Nick from the outset, his enthusiasm, his willingness to learn and especially his people skills; they came quite naturally to Nick in his dealings with anyone he came across, colleagues, victims, perpetrators, whoever. Gil had envied Nick's easy rapport with everyone. He'd thought that Nick did try too hard, hanging on his every word, willing to accept Gil's pronouncements regardless. Wanting his approval.

Nick knew this was right. He knew that of all the people he'd ever met he wanted Gris's approval more than anyone else. He thought about college professors who'd been good, EMT and police colleagues, even other CSIs but no one had an effect on Nick quite like Gris.

"This is what I think, no, I know, what happened Nick. Remember Amy Hendler? Of course you do." He agreed. Nick's eyes had widened at the mention of her name and he nodded at Gris.

Grissom sat back on the couch and started to tell his story, Nick was not going to interrupt if he could help it. Nick felt nervous but was also 'happy'? No. 'Relieved' was what he felt - he was going to discover the truth, and that's all he wanted, had ever wanted.

"When I walked into that house and found you looking down the barrel of that gun I can't ever remember being so nervous Nick. ('Until tonight', he thought.) I knew in an instant that I'd done this to you, my misinterpretation had meant she'd had time to get a gun and a few moments later she'd have shot you." Gil heaved a sigh and continued.

"I know that I never discussed it with you and never referred to it again. That was the very least I should've done; I should've referred you, just for a normal check up, to our psychologist. I didn't do it and you know why?" Nick gathered it was a rhetorical question and made no response and Gil continued, as he suspected he would do.

"Because, it would've been discovered that it was my fault Nick. I disobeyed my own basic instructions and left you alone at a crime scene, no me, no uniform. This was only a few months after Holly, Nick, and I couldn't remember a simple instruction that I'd issued. So, what did I do to right the wrong? Absolutely nothing Nick. Nothing. Well not to me anyway, but I transferred the blame onto you Nick. It became your fault for being there and your fault that she pulled a gun and your fault that I'd been so nervous and your fault that you nearly died!"

Nick was too shocked to speak now. The volume and intensity of Gris' speech had gradually risen as he made this confession and Nick saw he was about to continue.

"My next decision follows the same path Nick. It was your fault that I couldn't let you go to a murder scene on you own Nick. You might get another gun pulled on you and would need someone to rescue you again."

Nick had more than an idea what was coming next and he wasn't wrong.

"When you confronted me about your evaluation Nick and I used that stupid trick question to fool you, you told me to 'be a man'. Let me tell you now that was only one such occasion when I thoroughly failed to 'be a man'. You wanted me to approve of your work, of you as a CSI, as a man. You wanted to be like me and now I know why I was so irritated with you Nick."

'Tell me', Nick thought, 'tell me'.

"I was irritated because you wanted to be as good as me when I knew that I wasn't the 'good man' you thought I was. It irritated me that you desperately wanted to be like me, aspire to my 'heights'. The real me was not 'that man'. I have made judgements about you to your face that had no evidence to support them. I have behaved.......I have discovered a major flaw in myself....... you have borne the brunt of......I am ashamed Nick. I have failed you."

Gris' eloquence had floundered and he looked as if he was utterly defeated. He looked to Nick as Nick had looked to himself in the last few weeks. 'At least he knows how I felt'. Nick thought.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both contemplating what had been said.

When Gris spoke again, Nick was again struck at how alike their positions had become but Nick was certainly not prepared for what he was about to hear.

"I've decided to resign." Gil's voice was normal and business like - his work voice. "I want to be a CSI, but I'm not equipped to be in charge of staff when the likelihood is I could do something like this again. I want you to stay here Nick but I'm going to leave Las Vegas to give you a clean slate and the chance to do your job properly, without my misguided direction."

Nick stared at him.

"You're what? Are you totally ravin' Gil? You can't leave, man; this is your town, your lab. Everything you've ever wanted, as far as I can see, is here. The lab would be just another lab without you and the people...well they'd blame me for making you go. Oh. No. Gil Grissom. You're staying put."

Nick thought he sounded like a whining teenaged boy, all petulance and squeaky voice, and he was sure he'd never called Gris, 'Gil' before.

Gil was astounded, he had just confessed to treating Nick so badly he felt that his position in Las Vegas was no longer tenable and Nick was telling him he had to stay.

"Nick I can't force YOU out because of the way I've behaved. I'm going and that is final. God, if the worst came to the worst I could go to Charlotte instead of you Nick, it wouldn't make any difference to me as long as you were able to work here, free of the constraints I've imposed on you."

"No Gris, you don't underst......." This was as far as Nick got when Gris' cell 'phone made its presence known. Grissom snatched it from his pocket and bellowed into it.

"GRISSOM." He listened for a moment or two and then, although his volume had decreased, his voice was icily controlled as he spoke again.

"Sara, if I'd wanted you working with me on this 'special' case I would have ASKED you to work with me - I didn't and I don't. Goodbye!"

Nick had never seen Gris quite so furious and he reckoned Sara would be smartin' real bad from that put down.

Gil, however, was still furious and turned to Nick, Nick thought he appeared to be unnaturally agitated.

"What don't I understand Nick? You have enough evidence to have me fired from the lab. I was hoping you'd just let me go, because an investigation would mean more trauma for you to undergo, this way the same outcome would be achieved - believe me I would go quietly, no one would know what I'd done to you......oh.....I'm sorry Nicky..." His voice lost the anger and he continued in a resigned tone, "....not thinking of you, yet again. Only my own skin; I understand that you'd want to see me have to account for my behaviour. I'm sorry, I'll go now. I wish you well Nick and I cannot possibly ever apologise enough for my abhorrent behaviour."

As he said these words he rose from the couch and extended a hand to Nick. Nick looked at his face and then the hand. He groaned.

"Gris sit down, this communicatin' business is startin' to wear me down. I understand what you've told me. I want to stay in Vegas and I want YOU to stay in Vegas. I want the status quo to be restored. I ain't makin' any complaint to you or anyone else about this. As far as I'm concerned it's sorted, okay?"

Gil did sit down again, because he couldn't quite believe his ears. Nick had been virtually driven out of town by him, his supervisor. What he'd done to Nick HE found unforgivable and yet it was as if Nick was almost willing to sweep it under the carpet. He was now seriously confused by Nick's assessment of this...what...mess?

"I don't understand Nick, how CAN you just forgive and forget something that has affected your life for months - how I've behaved towards you, in front of your colleagues, your friends. Just accept it like there was not much to it. I don't understand; there must be something Nick, something you must feel about what I've done......." His words petered out, if this was not so serious it would be surreal - how could anyone forgive what he'd done?

They both sat in silence again at each end of Nick's couch. Gil, deflated and confused at Nick's acceptance and Nick actually wondering why he was so forgiving and accepting. This was something Nick actually needed to think about. Gris was right in a way, he'd felt murderous towards Grissom in the months leading up to all of this, but Nick had accepted the explanation as he was listening to it - he had no reason to disbelieve Gris. What he'd said to him was appropriate. As Gris had mentioned the incidents, Nick himself had seen, in his mind's eye, how Gris dealt with them and with him.

Nick felt absolved; he wasn't stupid enough to think it would all be hunky-dory after one discussion, but they could work at it and it's be okay. He turned to tell Gris this but said instead

"I'm hungry; you eaten, 'cause I could eat the proverbial!"

Gris looked at him like he had two heads, but he nodded, so Nick sprang up from the couch with suddenly acquired energy and found a jacket, collected his keys and nodded towards the door. Grissom rose to his feet feeling old, exhausted, confused and not in the least bit hungry. He felt defeated. He had expended more emotional energy during this day than he could ever remember doing before. It was a first - for him.

They walked to a diner Nick knew. Nick had said the walk and fresh air would do them both good and just make the food taste better. The spring in Nick's step was unevenly matched by Grissom's gait - he thought his shoes may have been filled with concrete his feet felt so heavy. He wondered if this was some sort of transference. Nick's troubles appeared to have evaporated and now he had said troubles weighing him down. He huffed to himself - it was nothing less than he deserved.

"You okay man?" Nick breezed beside him.

"In truth Nick? No, and I doubt I ever will be again." Gil thought this was an honest observation of his present circumstances.

"Aw, come on, some food and a beer maybe, y'all be up and runnin' in no time Gris."

"I wish I shared your confidence Nick, but I've yet to come to terms with all of this. I can't get my head around YOUR complete acceptance. As usual Nick I need time to process the evidence."

Nick knew he would have to explain sooner or later, he'd prefer 'never', but Gris was like a dog with a bone. They'd arrived at the diner which seemed clean and pleasant to Gil and well frequented by the look of it. They would have to wait for a table or booth. At that moment a booth at the side became free and the waitress indicated she'd clean up and then it was theirs.

Nick ordered a chicken salad and Gil couldn't think straight enough to study the menu so ordered the same. They sat back with sodas - they may still be called into work if something big came up as Nick had reminded Gris - Grissom had thought a double shot of tequila would have helped him more - but kept that information to himself.

Their silence was companionable; both men had had enough emotional outbursts in the past few days to last them for a long time. Nick felt more comfortable with Gris than he'd ever been. Gil felt the comfort and marvelled at it, he thought maybe he needed Catherine at his side to decipher the subtext that was obviously abounding around the pair of them.

She would love this, absolutely love it, and he knew there was no way he'd ever be able tell her what exactly had transpired this evening, he hardly knew himself. He felt almost sorry for her.

His face must have relaxed and his thoughts caused him to smile, slightly. Nick looked at him and smiled and lifted his glass in salute. Gil returned the gesture.

When their salads arrived Nick enthusiastically dived into his and Gil found his appetite and ate more heartily than he thought he would. They maintained the silence until they'd finished eating and had ordered coffees. When they'd arrived Nick sat forward in his seat, cradling his cup, and said.

"There's a lot more to this Gris, than meets the eye. There's stuff you don't know and I've made some decisions in the last couple of days that I hope will make a big difference to me."

Gil thought this was about to become a dramatic twist in the saga, his interest was certainly piqued so rather than speak and spoil the moment, he chose to nod encouragingly at Nick, hoping for an explanation. He also had a passing thought that he may have discovered interpersonal skills in the last few days that he did not know he possessed.

"Back in my condo, when you explained what you'd done and how you didn't know you were doin' it and now wanted to make amends. I thought, 'I'm goin' to tell him, tell him everythin' 'cause you opened up to me, man, and I'd already decided I was about old enough already to do what I should've done a long time ago."

Gil was very concerned. Nick's voice was firm, but there was an edge to it, he wondered if Nick had deliberately chosen to come out of his home to fortify himself to tell his secret, because Gil was in no doubt that he was about to hear something secret. He breathed deeply in anticipation.

"Things have happened to me Gris, in my life. I haven't dealt with them an' I should've, even if, at the time I didn't know what to do, as I grew up I did - but still I did nothin'."

Gil was holding his breath now and he suddenly realised and took a gulp of air, it didn't distract Nick who seemed set now on revealing whatever it was......

"When I was nine I was.......assaulted, sexually assaulted by a babysitter. You're the first person I've ever told - well apart from Catherine and I didn't tell her much at all. I was too frightened to tell Daddy and Momma or even my brother or sisters. I told no one Gris. I've carried it around and buried it, but it keeps diggin' its way up to the surface. You can understand that as I sit here as an adult an' all.......I cannot understand myself for not telling anyone......"

"You were a CHILD Nick, a child. Didn't anyone notice? How did you hide the torment you must have felt? Oh Nick!" Gil was horrified and humbled. Nick was a CSI, he'd investigated this type of assault, it must have been a living hell for him and for Nick the child and then HE'D compounded his distress with his behaviour.

"Yeah, well you know I'm the youngest of seven Gris? Well I was the surprise I guess, not such a welcome one. Daddy was carving out his career and Momma was trying to catch up - she took her degree after the others had been born, so she was annoyed that I'd interrupted her 'career progression'. My brother and sisters didn't want to baby-sit their little bro', they'd got better things to do than hang with a borin' kid. So, you know how it goes, the daughter of a friend of a friend was available and she, well she did things to me Gris, adult things I had NO idea about. She told me what had happened was my fault and that if I told anyone at all I would be laughed at by everyone and be a geekier kid than I already was. I believed her Gris and besides I didn't have anyone that I felt I could tell."

Gil thought he could actually cry at what he'd just heard and yet Nick appeared composed and dry eyed and almost, well, almost relieved. He would be of course, if he had never told anyone the details before. But, it also sounded as if he had some issues with his parents on top of the assault.

"The other night Gris when you were drivin' us over to Boulder you said somethin' to me that struck a chord. You said, that what you'd done was the 'most serious of misdemeanours', when I got outta the truck Gris I thought that nothing in my life was that serious, not in comparison, and there and then I made a pledge to myself that for the first time ever I would deal with the shit Gris, sort it, once an' for all."

"I take it you mean professional help, a therapist of some sort?"

"You got that right Gris."

They were quiet for a few minutes both lost in their own thoughts. Then Gil spoke.

"Well, we've got our medical insurance, but it may not cover you for something like this Nick, but I will make a referral, if you want me to that is, to our guy, say over the Hendler incident, and once you're in you can talk about whatever you need to in complete confidence and LVPD will pick up the tab. D'you want me to do it; it would be much quicker than any other route?" Gil suddenly felt better; being able to give practical advice was so much easier than emotional support. But.....

"If you need me to help in any way Nick, accompany you, or pick up any pieces along the way. It's not going to be easy for you; I think we both know that even before you begin and another thing I know Nick is that it's the right thing for you to do and you're ready and strong enough to win."

"I know that I am Gil, I know." I just called him 'Gil' again - wow!

Epilogue

And, it went pretty much like that.

Gil made a 'routine' referral to the resident LVPD psychologist, Philip Kane, citing 'Post Traumatic Stress' following the Hendler incident. The case was taken on, and truth be known, after a few sessions Dr Kane was enthralled. Not because of Nick's background and problems but because he had a 'case' to get his teeth into. He didn't get many of those. But, professionalism did win out when he thought Nick may benefit from a more specialised therapist.

As usual, Nick took this piece of information back to his 'friend' - Gil; to discuss, work through the implications and make the best decision for Nick on the available evidence. 'They' had decided that a specialised approach was probably the best route - and the department would still continue to pick up the tab, because Dr Kane had made the referral. The information would always remain confidential.

This little 'secret' was like a joke between the men - although Gil was at pains to ensure that Nick knew that he was only getting the support following the 'incident' that he should have had at the time.

Nick had taken Gil up on his offer of support, not immediately; he didn't want to be a bother. But after the first sessions with the new man Nick realised it was going to be hard, he hadn't quite thought through the implications. It wasn't just the babysitter thing; it was the whole parents and siblings problems that were part of the equation.

One evening, after he'd had a particularly difficult session, he'd found himself on his cell to Gil, upset and in need of someone to be with. Gil had immediately come to his aid and hugged him like he had 'that' morning - it seemed like lifetimes ago but it was only a few weeks. Nick was finally facing up to his problems and getting them sorted.

They had already discussed the work situation and what had really humbled Gil was that Nick didn't want any special treatment, didn't want Gil to try and redress the balance, just wanted to be treated like the others, have his ass kicked if need be, be thanked if he'd earned it. Just normal, like old times.

Gil thought he could do this, but secretly of course, he was redressing the balance - he was not overprotective exactly but was perhaps more 'aware' of Nick than ever before. But one thing was for sure, he was keeping it to himself, the LAST thing he wanted was Sara breathing down his neck accusing him of ignoring her. No, Gil Grissom, always keen to learn, had indeed learned a valuable lesson.

Catherine, of course noticed the subtle shift in Gil's behaviour, and spent time digging around for evidence, to no avail, Gil and Nick were tight lipped, but both men had a relaxed demeanour about them that Catherine couldn't quite put her finger on.

Warrick was glad to have his buddy back. He still had no idea what had happened in the background, and truthfully, was not that concerned because the equilibrium had been restored. Nick was feeling guilty at excluding Warrick but didn't think he was ready to let him in just yet, or ever, really.

It wasn't that Gil was his 'New Best Friend', it was just.....well he couldn't put an actual name to it but he was comfortable with Gil and could tell him everything now, everything like he told the therapist. He'd even thought that Gil should be his therapist, but kept that information to himself.

Gil, naturally, knew exactly why Nick had latched onto him, though he kept THAT information to himself. He had become a 'father' figure to Nick. It was very clear that Nick's 'issues' with his upbringing and home life left him in serious need of a figure, what Gil thought of as a 'kindly authoritative' person. Someone who'd listen and not judge, just comfort. Gil had absolutely no idea he had the capability to fulfil the role until this had all blown up in his face. He thought it was the very least he could do and, actually, he was more than happy to assume the role and its responsibilities.

The one aspect of it all that had astounded Gil was that he'd always been alone as a child, but had never considered himself to be lonely. He was a happy boy and had enjoyed his boyhood - apart from his father's death. He had, he supposed, the normal 'angst' times as a teenager, not as much as some of he fellow students, but enough to ensure some martyrdom in the realms of 'no one understands me...no one knows the troubles I've seen', but they had been fleeting moments between deliveries of his favourite entomology journals.

What Gil had discovered was that Nick, who'd been born into a large family, had actually been alone and very lonely for much of his boyhood. Nick had recalled that the only time he could remember his parent's being proud and supportive was when he excelled at school. At least he was spurred on to perform well. He did get the grades but rebellion started at college when he would not conform to the wishes of his parents: to do what they considered he should do, a lawyer, a doctor, a professional - in the same vein as the rest of the Stokes'.

It seemed to Nick, and Gil had no evidence to the contrary, that the Stokes family had 'abandoned' him when he would not do as they wished. Nick had told Gil that since leaving Texas for Las Vegas he rarely had any contact with his family. Nick even made excuses, they were busy man, or, well I haven't contacted them so..... But Gil was appalled that all of those people had no time for their youngest son or their youngest brother. His 'Momma' had even forgotten his birthday - his thirtieth.

Then there was the abuse at the hands of the babysitter, a nine year old child COULD NOT tell his mother, couldn't find the comfort in his mother's arms that was his right to expect. Gil fondly remembered that his mother had insisted on having a hug every day, at some point, and although he'd pretended to be embarrassed and bored, he'd always hugged back.

When he left home he had missed the hug more than he could ever have imagined - he still did. Perhaps this was why he could so readily hug Nick. He had never done it before, with anyone, except his mother, but perhaps it had not been necessary before now.

The other thing that the two men discovered was that they were able to be just friends. They quite often went out to eat, spent a day at a bird sanctuary, even caught a movie - Gil had suggested the film and Nick thought he would have to think very carefully about an excuse for the next time. Three hours of a subtitled Latvian film - not Nick's idea of a good time - but Gil was enthralled.

So all in all, things just went back to normal. The lab functioned as it should, their success rate making them one of the best in the country. Sara still pining for Gil and jealous of any attention he paid to anyone else - Gil mostly oblivious - despite his newly acquired people skills. No one else noticed these 'skills' so perhaps they were actually 'Nick skills'.

Nick's therapy continued - the therapist was impressed with Nick's recuperative powers and ability to understand and draw his own conclusions. He thought that he was definitely one patient who would eventually make a full recovery, sure, he'd be scarred, (aren't we all), but he'd already made excellent progress.

And Charlotte? Nick 'phoned them and full of apologies, explained that he was staying in Vegas. The Director had amazed Nick with his response. "I really didn't expect you come; to be honest, with your experience and skills, you were far too good for the job we offered. I don't suppose you would reconsider and come here as a Lead CSI, would you?"

A flabbergasted Nick had declined but he was a happy man. He would actually go as far as to think he was a happier than he'd ever been.

The End