Title: Hostage
By: nancy
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It's Nick's worst nightmare.

It was one of Nick’s worst nightmares come to life. Gil held hostage by a suspect with nothing to lose and a gun against Gil’s neck. His own gun felt deadly and useless all at once. He couldn’t fire, not without risking the suspect’s finger twitching on the trigger and taking out Gil.

Brass stood right beside him, silent and menacing with his gun aimed right at the suspect’s forehead just waiting for an opportunity. Other officers were yelling at the man, ordering him to put down the weapon. It wasn’t controlled chaos, just chaos, and Nick’s head rang with the all the shouting, both to the suspect and for an ambulance. There was already a cop down, the one whose gun was now pressed to Gil’s throat.

Finally Nick couldn’t take it anymore. He shouted over everyone else, bellowed really, “Everyone shut up! Quiet! And back off!”

Unexpectedly, everyone not working on the injured cop fell silent. Nick took a breath and said to the suspect, “Look, man, you got nowhere to go. Don’t make it worse on yourself.”

“Worse? How can it get worse? I’m goin’ down for three murders so back the fuck off,” the guy snarled.

Nick met Gil’s gaze and found them strangely calm, as steady as if they were just talking about a crime scene. He asked, “Are you okay?”

Gil actually dredged up a half-smile from somewhere and answered, “I’m fine, Nicky.”

It really hit him then. Gil was so calm because he trusted Nick to save his life. Locking that away for later, Nick came to a decision and rapidly thought about what he knew of this man, of the case. Browning, twenty-eight, killed his supervisor and two older coworkers in some kind of grudge assassination.

Nick held his gun up before setting it on the floor. He kept an arm outstretched, hand in a placating gesture, and said, “So it can’t get worse, right? Well, you picked the wrong hostage, man. Did you even look at him? He’s old. He won’t be able to keep up if you need to run for it, which you will, trust me.”

Browning paused then and seemed to take a quick assessment of Gil, his scowl deepening.

“That’s right,” Nick continued. “But you can have me, okay? I already put my gun down, you know I’m unarmed, I’ll walk over and you can take me instead.”

Gil immediately protested, “Nick, don’t.”

Nick didn’t even look at him as he snapped, “Shut up, old man! You should’ve been put out to pasture years ago. Can you believe that? He’s still here and I don’t have any shot at getting promoted. No one under fifty does, right?”

Nodding as Nick nodded, the suspect said, “Yeah. Yeah, man, it’s rigged. The whole fuckin’ system!”

“Exactly,” Nick agreed, stepping forward a few feet. Ten more feet and Gil was safe. How long could he keep the fucker talking? Would it distract him enough for Brass to take the shot? Had SWAT arrived yet? “But you can make a statement here. We’ll do it together. Take me and we’ll tell the world.”

He must’ve gone too far, because the man’s eyes narrowed and his lip came up in a sneer. “You motherfucker…” and the gun swung out at him.

Nick knew he was dead. There was just no time to get out of the way. Everything zoomed down into no time at all and the silence deepened into a kind of bubble. His gaze locked on Gil’s eyes and that was when he saw the panic rising in their pale depths. As last sights went, it was a damn good one. He heard gunfire from more than one gun and flinched, but then saw Browning’s head explode in a mess of blood and brain matter and broken skull.

The bubble popped unexpected and sound rushed in back to Nick, along with fire in his shoulder. He gasped in pain and staggered a little, hearing Brass shout for an ambulance and grabbing hold of him. Nick shoved him off and plowed through the crowd around Gil. In front of God and everyone, with his blood rushing in his ears and apparently out of his shoulder, Nick grabbed Gil and yanked him in tight.

Gil’s arms went around Nick’s waist and for a third time, silence descended. This one had the quality of shock to it. A shock that said no one had seen this coming, but there was no doubt as to the reason he and Gil were embracing. Nick’s legs felt weak in a combination of panic on Gil’s behalf and pain on his own.

“Nicky, don’t ever do that again,” Gil whispered against his ear, arms impossibly tight. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Nick buried his face against Gil’s neck, right against the bruise that was forming from the barrel of the gun, and squeezed tighter. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t without losing it entirely and he didn’t want to break down any further in front of the entire department and half the PD.

“Uh, guys? They really need to look at Nicky’s shoulder before he bleeds out,” Catherine’s voice intruded.

He really really didn’t want to let go, but Gil’s grip loosened and he said softly, “It’ll be okay, baby.”

Nick nodded against his neck and then sighed explosively before letting go and stepping back. As expected, there were varying degrees of shock and a few expressions of distaste, though no outright antipathy that he could tell. Then again, he’d lost a lot of blood and probably wasn’t all that observant.

Dizziness assaulted him as he stepped back from Gil and both Catherine and Brass grabbed hold of him. They brought him to a set of chairs and sat him down.

Gil sat down on his bleeding side and gripped the wound tight enough to hurt, trying to stem the blood. “It went right through, Nicky, that’s a good thing.”

Nick grimaced and joked, “Oh yeah, it’s awesome.”

Catherine chuckled and told him, “That’s what you get for being a hero, Nick.”

Nick met Gil’s eyes and earnestly said, “Wasn’t trying to be a hero.”

Gil’s mouth quirked briefly. “I know, Nicky. It’s okay, I promise.”

Catherine looked between them and then asked, “What am I missing?”

“I made Nick promise to stop taking so many chances,” Gil explained.

The EMTs arrived just then, thankfully, which spared Nick from having to talk further about that. It was a private thing, anyhow, and he didn’t want his life to be any more broadcast than it already was. Private life. As Gil moved out of the EMTs’ way, Nick suddenly realized that they were outed, that he’d outed them. He flashed Gil an anxious look and said, “Oh God, Gil, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Gil seemed to know exactly what he was talking about, because he gripped Nick’s good hand and soothed, “It’s okay, Nicky. It’ll be fine.”

Nick felt more ill than the gunshot had made him, knowing how much Gil valued his privacy. He’d just made them the top of the office gossip chain and there would definitely be repercussions against them working together now.

“Nick! Breathe!” Gil ordered, gently pushing his head down between his knees.

It was too late. Nick couldn’t catch his breath and, between the hyperventilating and blood loss, he passed out.

* * * *

Nick woke up in a hospital bed and groaned, more in embarrassment than pain. Then he looked around for Gil and found him sitting in the chair next to the bed, smiling at him. He’d cleaned up and changed; no more blood and brain on him from Browning, thank God.

“Nice of you to rejoin us,” Gil said, standing only to sit on the edge of the bed. “I was starting to think you would sleep through the night. You did just pull a double before the hostage situation.”

Nick reached for him with his good hand, which was immediately taken in Gil’s. The grip was sure and strong and warm, soothing in a way few things were for him. The same hand that had pulled him from his living death buried in a glass coffin just a few months before. “Gil, man, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Gil shook his head and interrupted, “Quiet now, it’s done. And I don’t even really care. The people we count on don’t care and those who do care don’t matter. I’ve already spoken to Ecklie and while officially it’s frowned on, we aren’t cops so it isn’t against the rules. We haven’t done anything wrong. He’ll keep an eye on us, but nothing’s going to change so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Nick gave him a shy smile and said, “I’m kinda glad everyone knows now. No more faking dates or making excuses for why I don’t want to go out after shift. Oh, but how’d Sara take it?”

Gil’s lips twisted briefly, enough to let him know that that conversation hadn’t been pleasant, but Gil only said firmly, “Everything’s fine, Nicky.”

And then Gil leaned in and kissed him, soft and slow, and Nick knew that everything really was all right. They would weather whatever storms might show up because of their relationship together and with the help of their friends.