Title: Last Goodbye
Author: geekwriter
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: R-ish
Summary: Greg's tired, but that doesn't mean he can ignore Nick, Ethan, or the case.
A/N: This is for Shacky20 because she needs relief in the midst of a hurricane. And, yes, I switched from Jason Mraz to Jeff Buckley. I was running out of song titles.

Previous story in series- No Doubling Back.

Sara frowned as she and Greg headed back towards the Denali. "Well," she said. "That was a total wash."

Greg nodded. Tino Ayala not only had a solid alibi for the night of the shootings, he was so broken up about the death of his ex-wife he was nearly hysterical. They'd ended up talking to his mother more than him, since Tino hadn't stopped crying for more than five minutes at a time.

"Why do we always get the suspects who are wracked with grief?" he asked, remembering the tear-stained face of Mark Stoddard whose daughter, Mackenzie, had been one of the children killed.

"Bad luck," Sara said as she unlocked the doors. Once they were inside she started the car but didn't put it into drive. She rested her head on the steering wheel for a moment.

"Need me to drive?" Greg asked softly.

She shook her head. "Just thinking. We've got, what? Nothing? We've still got absolutely nothing."

"Well, we've got a sedative that can't be traced, a random receipt from a gas station without security cameras and a clerk who smokes more weed than Snoop Dogg, an ex-husband with an alibi who maybe needs either a sedative or a joint, and, uh…yeah. We've got nothing."

Sara growled in the back of her throat as she sat up and shifted the Denail into drive.

Greg fastened his seatbelt, then slouched in his seat. He knew it was best to just leave her alone while she was pissed about a case. He was almost asleep when Sara spoke.

"I don't get it."

Greg yawned and sat up straight. "What's to get?" he asked. He stretched his arms out, tried to loosen the tension in his shoulders. "You put it perfectly before—this is a complete mess and we've got zilch."

"No, not…I mean, yeah, you're right. The case is fucked. But I don't get the whole thing with Nick."

Greg groaned and slumped again.

"He broke up with you because he saw you kissing someone else? That doesn't make any sense."

"I already told you that's not what happened."

"It has something to do with it though. Right?"

"Can you please turn off that whole investigator thing you've got going on?"

"It's pretty much habit by now. So, what did happen?"

"Jesus, Sara, it doesn't matter."

"Which is why you slept with him last night and why you're so pissy today."

"I'm not pissy, I'm—"

"Brooding. I know."

Greg very purposefully looked out the window and crossed his arms over his chest. He could tell that Sara was watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Fine," he snapped after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. "He cheated on me. He thought I was cheating on him with Ethan so he cheated on me with someone else. Happy now?"

"Nick cheated?"

"Oh, you were perfectly comfortable thinking I was a cheater but you don't think Saint Stokes would do something like that?"

"That's not what I—"

"Do you think it makes me happy to be able to say that I was faithful and he was the cheater? I mean, I know between the two of us no one ever expects Nick to do anything wrong, but—"

"Jesus. Take a breath, will you? I just…now that I know the truth about the two of you, things make a lot more sense. I don't know how I didn't put it together before. And thinking back on it, you guys were really happy. You were, weren't you? You seemed happy."

Greg tried to take a deep breath but it caught in his throat.

"You were," Sara said softly. "You didn't see it coming."

He shook his head, gritting his teeth against the tears he felt stinging his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Thanks."

"Do you think you'll get back together?"

"Can we talk about something else?"

"I just…if you were happy, and then with last night…"

"Anything else."

She sighed and reached out to squeeze his arm. "Yeah. I really am sorry, though."

He nodded and leaned his head against the window. "I know."

**********

Another shift, and they were still no closer to discovering who it was that had gone on a rampage in the daycare center. Greg tipped his head down and ignored the shouted questions of reporters as he walked out to his car.

He was tired and frustrated. Everyone from the governor on down was putting pressure on the lab to work faster, to solve the case, but they couldn't work faster because they didn't have any damn evidence.

It was 2 o'clock, which meant he'd only pulled a 14-hour shift. He'd been surprised when Grissom had told him to go home and get some sleep, but he hadn't argued about it. He had ten whole hours before his next shift started, though he'd promised Grissom he'd come in at least a little early. Everyone was working extra hours, doing whatever they could.

He pulled up to his parking spot and frowned as he saw there was a strange car parked there. Then he realized that he hadn't driven back to his apartment at all. He'd been exhausted and running on autopilot, and he'd driven himself back to the place he'd called home for two years. The condo.

"Fuck." He tipped his head against the steering wheel and laughed softly. He supposed it was his subconscious mind's way of telling him that he and Nick needed to talk.

He parked in visitor parking and steeled himself for a moment before getting out and heading up to the front door. He ran the bell, then remembered that it was broken and knocked. There was no answer, and he was about to head back and check to make sure that was Nick's truck he'd seen in the lot when the door opened.

"Hey," Nick said softly. He'd obviously just woken up. He looked warm and rumpled and sleepy, which Greg didn't want to think about because it was far too attractive and distracting.

"We have to talk," he said as he barged into their place. No, not theirs. Not their place, Nick's place. It was Nick's place. He stopped in the hallway and turned to face Nick. "I…I didn't mean to wake you up."

Nick shrugged and yawned as he closed the front door. "My alarm's gonna go off in a little while, anyway. It's all right. I'm glad you came over."

Greg sighed. When Nick walked past him he caught the scents of sweat and sleep and skin. He loved the way Nick smelled when he just woke up. He shook his head to make himself focus. "I don't know where to start."

Nick nodded and scratched the back of his neck. Greg loved kissing the back of his neck, right at the hairline. "I suppose we do have a lot to say," Nick said. "Why don't you just start with the first thing on your mind?"

"When we were together," Greg began, "were you happy?"

Nick nodded as he leaned against the edge of the couch. "Yeah. Even when we were fighting, I was happy. I was with you."

Greg looked down at his hands. "Yeah. Me, too." He smiled and looked up at Nick. "I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. Didn't know what I'd done to deserve you."

"I felt the same way. Still do. I know I don't deserve you, I know I hurt you, but I—"

"Don't."

Nick moved towards him, reached out to touch his cheek. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

"We're good together." Nick took another step forward, wrapped his arms around Greg's shoulders. "You know we are."

"We fought all the time."

"Not all the time, Greg. Sometimes, yeah. Sometimes we fought, but everybody fights. And, hey, now we don't have to fight about me coming out to my folks anymore because I already did it."

Greg nodded. It felt so good to hold him again. Nick's skin was so warm. He wanted to stay there forever.

"This is right," Nick whispered as he stroked Greg's back. "You know this is right."

Greg closed his eyes, took a deep breath. The smell of Nick's skin made him ache.

"Come home."

"Nick…"

"Come home. Please."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Greg tried to pull away but Nick held on tight. "Give me one reason you can't come home," Nick said. He trailed his fingers up and down Greg's spine. Greg loved that.

Greg dropped his head onto Nick's shoulder. "It broke me," he whispered. "Whatever else was wrong, the long hours and the stress of the closet and the fights, none of that prepared me for what happened. You blindsided me, and I broke. I didn't even know I could break like that."

Nick pulled back. "Jesus, Greg, I…"

"I can laugh at anything, you know? Anything. I used to be able to, anyway. Fucking up at a crime scene, blowing up, whatever. I could see the light side of it and make fun of myself and it was OK. But I can't…I don't even know if there is a lighter side to what happened, but if there is I won't ever find it because it feels like nothing's funny anymore."

"Greg, I know you've been—"

"No," he snapped. "No, you don't know. You don't know because I didn't let you see it. Nobody saw it, the true depth of it, not even—" He broke off and looked away.

"Say it," Nick snapped, feeling the anger rise in his chest. "Not even who, Greg?"

"What is your problem with Ethan?"

Nick snorted.

"He's my best friend, and thank God for that. I wouldn't have made it through without him."

"Yeah, I'm sure he was right there ready to comfort you in your time of need."

"I'm not the one who fucks other guys."

Nick clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring.

"What? No comeback to that?"

"It doesn't matter that you weren't sleeping with him," Nick said. "There were three of us in the relationship either way."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that the only time I had you to myself was at work. He was always calling, always coming over, always wanting you to go out to whatever new club he'd discovered."

"He's my friend. Friends do things together. If you actually had any friends you'd know that."

"What do you mean by that?" Nick demanded.

"I mean isn't it weird that the only person you can tell about coming out to your mother is me? Your ex? You don't have a single friend in Vegas that knows the truth about you. You don't have a single friend anywhere that knows the truth. All your old friends, the frat boys and the Aggie baseball gods, none of them know."

"Some of them do, actually."

"Just the ones you fucked."

Nick took a step back, shaking his head. "Mean doesn't look good on you, Greg."

"What does? Cheerful ignorance? You want me to dance around like the lab jester just so you can laugh?"

"You know I don't. Don't change the subject."

"What is the subject?"

"Ethan. I see the way he looks at you. I could see it from the first time I met him that he'd put his mark on you and was pissed that I'd gotten there first."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I—"

"He never liked me," Nick interrupted. "Not from the start. And how was I supposed to compete with him? I'm not some independently wealthy playboy who can take you out to a party every night and introduce you to famous people."

"Did you just say 'playboy' with a straight face?"

"I'm not exciting. I'm not wild. I know that, but I thought it would be all right. I thought I could give you what you wanted."

"You did," Greg said. "Jesus, Nick, you never had to compete with Ethan. Even if I hadn't been with you, nothing would have happened between him and me. He's a friend. That's all. There's never even been a chance of him and me getting together."

"You sure he knows that?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "We just keep going around and around in circles saying the same thing. We never get anywhere. You say you're sorry, I say there's nothing between Ethan and me, then you say you're sorry again and it's back to Ethan. We can't keep having this conversation."

"So we talk about something else."

Greg shook his head and backed up. "We don't have anything else to talk about."

"We can't leave it like this."

"It doesn't matter how we leave it, Nick. It's over."

"But yesterday—"

"Yesterday was a mistake."

"No."

He nodded. "It was. You know it was."

"I know we were together again and it was perfect. We belong together."

"I have to go."

"Stay," Nick said, reaching out for him. "Jesus, Greg, you can't throw this away."

"I have to go," Greg said again, not daring to meet Nick's eyes. He left quickly, ignoring Nick's voice behind him asking him to stay, to come back, to talk it out.

On the drive back to his apartment, he started to cry and couldn't make himself stop. He was so tired. He was tired of fighting with Nick. He was tired of working case after case with dead children and no evidence. He was tired of driving back to an apartment he hated in a crappy part of town where he went to bed alone every single night.

When he got home, he couldn't bear to face his empty bed, so he crashed on the couch. The couch smelled like Nick, as did the afghan he pulled over himself, and he pressed his face into the pillow and fought his tears until he fell asleep.

He woke up fast and flew up off the couch, cursing as he frantically shook and twisted his leg. "Motherfucking shit fuck damnit fucking hell," he cried as he reached down and pressed his thumbs hard against the charley horse in his right calf. He stretched his leg out, flexed his foot so his toes were pointing towards his knee, and finally the cramp eased some. He walked back and forth across the room to work it out, breathing hard. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a charley horse. It probably had something to do with the way he positioned his legs when he slept on the couch.

Finally, the cramp was completely gone and he sighed. The clock said it was seven-thirty. He'd gotten nearly five hours of sleep. He looked at the couch and considered curling back up on it, then thought about his empty bed, and decided he'd just be up for the day.

He placed his hand on the stack of cardboard boxes against the wall and shook his head. Things with Nick were over. He lived there, now. He might as well unpack.

He took the top box off the stack and sat down in the middle of the floor with it, pulling off the tape that held it closed. It was full of framed photographs he remembered ripping off the walls the day he left. He hadn't even wrapped the pictures in anything, had just thrown them all in a box. It was a wonder none of them had broken.

He pulled the first one out and managed a small smile. It was him, Nick, and Ethan at Lake Mead, smiling in swim trunks and sunglasses. The next frame contained a picture of him and Ethan at the Sunset Station casino in Henderson. They'd gotten so drunk that they'd had to switch from blackjack to slots. He pulled each photograph out of the box and inspected the glass for cracks, then set it on the floor. Once the box was empty, he looked at the ring of photographs around him, wondering where the hell he was going to put them all.

He supposed some of them could go back into the box, and he was trying to decide which ones he wanted out the most when he noticed something. Greg, Nick, and Ethan at Lake Mead. Greg and Ethan at the casino. Greg and Ethan after a boxing match at the MGM grand. Greg and Ethan at the Grand Canyon. Greg, Nick, and Ethan hanging out in the backyard at a barbeque. Greg and Ethan dressed up to go clubbing. Greg and Ethan having drinks at a bar.

Why the fuck did he have more pictures of his best friend than his boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend. Whatever. The only pictures that were just of him and Nick were from the one weekend they'd been able to spend alone in Tahoe. Ethan had wanted to come along on that trip, too, had wanted to go snowboarding, but Greg knew Nick would commit homicide if Ethan came with so he'd begged off, promised Ethan they'd go to Park City together the next long weekend he had off.

Who the fuck took vacations with their boyfriend and their best friend? Who the fuck spent more time alone with their boyfriend while they were at work than when they were home?

He dropped his head into his hands and tried to laugh. Jesus. Nick had been right. He'd been right. They hadn't had any time alone and Greg hadn't noticed because nothing had changed—he'd spent all his time with Ethan before he and Nick started dating, so it felt natural to do the same thing while they were dating. He was such an asshole.

He leg started to cramp up again and he groaned as he hopped to his feet and tried to walk it out. Why hadn't he seen it before? Nick had said it enough times. Why hadn't he ever listened?

He limped to the shower and turned the water up hot. Fuck. Did it change anything, knowing that Nick had been right? He didn't know.

**********

It was nine o'clock on a Tuesday night, and Ethan's place was packed with people. Typical, really. Ethan loved throwing parties. Greg maneuvered his way through the crowd towards the dining room. That's where Ethan set up the bar, and that was usually where he could be found.

Ethan laughed as he spotted Greg "There he is! Everybody, this is Greg. Greg, this is everybody."

"Hey," Greg said. Then to Ethan, "Can we talk?"

"Of course."

"Alone."

Ethan frowned but didn't argue, just followed as Greg made his way through the crowd into a miraculously empty bedroom.

"What's going on?" Ethan asked, shutting the door to muffle the sound of the music. "No offense, but you look like shit."

"I kind of had a bad night."

"You should have called me. You know I would have come over."

He shrugged. "It's OK. Nick was there."

Ethan crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows.

"We're not getting back together." Greg said, the residual soreness of the charley horse making him limp slightly as he crossed the room.

Ethan gasped.

"What?"

"I know that walk," Ethan whispered, pointing his finger in Greg's face. "That's the 'I just got my brains fucked out' walk."

"No, it's not."

"Do not lie to me. I walk that walk way more than you do, and I know that walk. You fucked him."

Greg sighed.

"Oh, my God. You totally did. You can't even have the decency to lie to me and tell me you pulled something at the gym?"

"Don't freak out."

"Don't freak out? You pinky swore!"

"I swore I wouldn't get back together with him."

"And what do you call fucking him?"

Greg shrugged. "It's not a big deal. He fell asleep on the couch. I had a bad night and he…consoled me."

"He consoled you by screwing you on the couch?"

"Actually, it started in the bathroom and then I ripped his clothes off and tackled him onto the bed."

"Really? That's kind of hot. Not that…what am I…don't distract me. You promised me that you wouldn't do this and—"

"It wasn't make-up sex. It was goodbye sex."

Ethan opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. "Oh. I…oh. Are you OK?"

Greg shrugged. "You're the one who's been saying I need to get laid."

"I meant by someone other than Nick. You're really not getting back together with him?"

"I'm really not."

"Good. Because you know I won't hesitate to bitch slap some sense into you if that's what it takes. He's only going to hurt you again."

"I didn't come here to talk about Nick." Greg sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he thought. "I…do you like me, Ethan?"

Ethan laughed. "Of course I do, sweetie. You know that."

"No. I mean…are you attracted to me?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that you're a hottie before you believe me?"

"I'm not talking in general. I'm talking about you, if you think I'm attractive. If…if you and I…"

"What's going on?"

"Do you think that if I hadn't, with Nick, I mean, do you think you and I would have gotten together?"

Ethan cupped Greg's face in his hand. "What's this all about, Greg?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Nothing. Never mind. It's stupid."

"Why?" Ethan asked. He stroked Greg's cheekbone with his thumb. "You and me, that's not stupid. We could have a lot of fun together." He moved forward into Greg's space. "You do remember what fun is, don't you?" he asked before he tipped his head and pressed his mouth to Greg's.

"OK," Greg said, stepping back. "Wow, that was…I have to go to work."

"It's the middle of the night."

"And I work the night shift."

Ethan sighed with annoyance. "All you ever do is work."

"And all you ever do is party."

"Well, when we're old and gray, which one of us is going to have better memories?"

Greg sighed. "Honestly? I think I will, because I'm actually doing something with my life. Something that matters."

Ethan rolled his eyes and looked away, shaking his head. "Fine. Go back to work. Go back to Nick and when everything falls apart again—like it always does—I'll be here ready to pick up the pieces. Like I always do."

Greg was angry as he headed out to his car, but not with Ethan. He was pissed at himself. He thought he had what it took to be a CSI, and he hadn't even been able to see what was right in front of him, no matter how many times Nick had told him it was there. It didn't change things, didn't change what had happened, but Nick at least deserved to know that he'd been right.

Once again, Greg had to dodge reporters on the way from his car to the lab. He wondered how long it would take them to get tired and go home. He thought it would probably be a long time.

Nick was alone in the AV lab, going through someone's home videos. Greg didn't know whose. Probably one of the women who'd worked at the daycare. Greg walked in and sat down on the stool next to him. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he watched little girls on the home movies jumping through a sprinkler.

Nick shook his head. "No need." His voice sounded fine, but out of the corner of his eye, Greg could see how tense the muscles in Nick's jaw were.

"You were right. I just…I thought I should tell you that. You were right about Ethan."

Nick inhaled sharply. He didn't look away from the home movie. "So you two…?"

"No. No, I meant it when I said I wasn't interested in him. I guess…I don't know. I guess I assumed that meant he wasn't interested in me. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

Nick nodded. He still didn't look away from the home movie. Greg watched it with him in silence, watching little girls jumping rope and clowning for the camera. The home movies weren't from one of the day care workers. He recognized the little brunette girl in the red sundress as Katie Perez, one of the victims. She'd been eight years old.

"This is so fucked up," Greg said as he watched Katie try to learn how to hula hoop. "We've got five dead kids and nothing to go on but home movies, a scrap of foil, and a can of Mountain Dew."

"A can of what?" Nick asked, turning towards him suddenly.

"Mountain Dew," Greg said. "We found it in the yard, not that it matters. It checks out, doesn't mean anything."

"God damn it!" Nick cried, shoving back from the table. "This is exactly why these split shifts are bullshit. If we were all a team, ,stuff like this wouldn't fall through the cracks. Your shift does evidence, my shift works the bodies, it's bullshit."

"What?" Greg asked. He wasn't the only one who'd noticed Nick's outburst. People had stopped in the hallway and were peering into the AV lab. "What's going on?"

"That soda can you recovered, it had Mackenzie Pierce's DNA on it, her father, Mark Stoddard's fingerprints. Right?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, if the team had been together the way it's supposed to, I would have had the detail that the soda was Mountain Dew, and you would have had the detail that no way in hell Mark Stoddard would give that to his daughter."

"What? Why not?"

"I went to her autopsy," Nick said. "Tiny thing had an insulin pump right there in her side. She was seriously diabetic, had been since age three."

"And Mark Stoddard gave her a soda with over 30 grams of sugar per serving," Greg said. "Why? Why would he do that? I interviewed that bastard. I don't…I don't understand."

"We don't have to understand," Nick said, reaching for his cell phone. "We just have to get a warrant."