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What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas Part 9
(Vegas Holiday)
AN: I have issues, I know it.
The call had come sooner than Nick had expected.
He had driven home and undressed, pulling down the blackout curtains in his bedroom as though it was just another morning after a long shift. He had turned on his cell phone and set it with his glasses on the nightstand. He may have even slept, he wasn’t really sure.
But the ring hadn’t startled him, and seeing Sara on the Caller ID had only made him pause for a second.
“Nick.” He could remember Sara’s voice easily, hesitant and unusually gentle. “Grissom wants you to report in tonight, but come in at nine.” She’d waited a second before going on. “In his office.”
Nick looked up. From his chair in front of Grissom’s desk he could see all of Grissom’s experiments, past and current. Yesterday he had been worried he was going to end up like that dead pig floating in a jar, now he was just staring at how the fluorescent lights hit the glass, imagining Greg’s reaction to it. He’d probably think it was gross for all of a second and then start in with the questions on how and why it got there.
Then as his thoughts seemed to always circle back, he wondered if Greg was all right, which was stupid and a waste of time, not that it had kept him from wondering for the past few hours. He’d been right about that when he had told Sara that Greg didn’t need saving. It had taken Greg less than a day to conquer Nick, Sara, hell…the whole damn city.
Greg had been, what, a one night stand? And it was foolish of Nick to still be thinking about him, hoping he had stood up that woman, and his parents, hoping there wouldn’t be any serious repercussions, when Nick was the one whose job was in jeopardy.
By now they would have at least seen Nick inside of Caesar’s the other night, even if they hadn’t seen him with Greg—with the prince—and there was still the matter of how he had acted toward a witness, and such an important witness.
He should have known then. He closed his eyes only to open them again when the door opened.
Sara stepped into view, her jaw working as she sat down in the chair next to him.
“Sara?” he asked anyway. Her cheeks were flushed, which with her tight jaw, meant she was worked up over something, but she managed a smile.
“Would you rather it was Ecklie?” she teased him, sounding as merciless as ever, but her eyes were all melted chocolate.
Nick swallowed, then shook his head.
“They called us all back just before dawn,” she remarked, dropping her voice until she was whispering and Nick looked away, not wanting to know what he looked like to make Sara speak like that. Her hand landed carefully on his knee, drawing his attention back.
“Was…?”
“Oh good, you’re both here,” Grissom spoke merrily from the doorway and Sara jerked to attention, pulling her hand back. Nick straightened up, already wincing to hear the soft note of pleasure in Grissom’s voice that meant he was about to stick another T-pin in whatever he was dissecting. Then he closed the door behind him, which was never a sign of anything good.
He walked to his seat behind the desk and took his time getting settled, leaving Sara to fidget and Nick to watch silently. When he evidently felt they had waited long enough, he looked up, looked each of them in the eye with the blank face that, according to Warrick, had won more than its share of poker games.
His gaze flicked to Sara once or twice then fixed on Nick. Nick stared back for a moment then he felt himself frowning, gritting his teeth to keep himself from shouting for Grissom to get it over with. He was fired, he was suspended, he was transferred to Days, whatever it was he just wanted to hear it and go home.
“Nick, you can report in for your shift tonight, in fact, you’ll be covering Warrick since, due to recent events, he has had to work two doubles back to back. I told him he could have the evening off.” Grissom’s tone with mild, maybe even amused, and Nick blinked. He jerked his chin up and tried not to look at Sara.
“Sadly, and also due to recent events, this is the case with many of the team, so all available CSIs are needed in the field.” It was the Grissom version of a slap to the face, a reminder of just how hard everyone had been working.
It stole his breath for a moment and Nick glanced down. “What about Ecklie?” he asked when he looked back up. At that, Grissom’s lips twisted.
“Conrad is…busy at the moment…and likely to remain that way for the next several hours. I doubt he’ll remember about you until later in the week.”
“Something to look forward to,” Sara joked and Nick shot her a grateful look. Grissom focused on her too, and her smile faded. Grissom’s never left his face. Nick didn’t blame Sara at all for shifting in her seat.
“I get the feeling you both have something to tell me,” Grissom remarked mildly and Nick felt his mouth fall open. He pulled in a deep breath, cold in his dry, rough throat, and then raised his chin.
“Yeah,” he agreed, as steady as he could manage and Grissom’s smile widened.
“Good. Unfortunately I don’t have time to hear the whole story right now. There’s an… event that requires my presence. Yours too, Nick.” His gaze transferred to Sara. “And yours.”
“I…what?” Sara’s eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously.
“You’ve been specifically invited, Nick, but even if you weren’t, I’m sure Ecklie would say the Lab demands it.”
“Invited where?” His heart was finally starting to slow down, but Nick couldn’t help leaning forward, scowling at the thought of some office party or official gathering. He wasn’t in the mood for something like that. He didn’t even like crowds; he would never have even gone to Fremont Street if it hadn’t been for Greg.
There was a place with magic programmed every hour on the hour and Greg had made it somehow seem real. That he knew it all fake and planned didn’t matter, not the way Greg had simply seized the moment, seized Nick as though he was a part of it too, as though Greg didn’t realize that he was the one making it so special.
Nick lowered his head and stared at the edge of Grissom’s desk, trying to wipe thoughts of Greg from his mind, at least until he was out of this room. But Grissom was Grissom, and made him jump with only five simple words.
“The prince returned this morning,” Grissom tossed out and Nick didn’t care if Grissom was his boss, and a good one, or if he was possibly the most brilliant forensics analyst inside or outside of Quantico, he snapped his head up and stared hard at him.
Grissom stared back, too damn calm, too goddamn knowing. Nick inhaled through his nose and clenched his jaw, not giving one good goddamn about what his mother would think about all his swearing.
“He’s all right?” he asked at last, breathing heavily.
“Nick…” Sara whispered just his name, as though hearing it didn’t make him think of the way Greg had said it, like he was happy just to be saying it.
“He’s fine,” Grissom assured him softly and abruptly leaned back in his chair. He let out a sigh and lifted his glasses to rub at his eyes. Sara twitched. “He’s more than fine. I suspect…” he left that thought unfinished, trailing off before he focused on Nick again.
If Warrick had been working doubles back to back, then probably so had Grissom, and Nick fought the urge to duck his head and apologize. It only got worse when Grissom went on.
“Shortly before dawn this morning he walked into the Bellagio under his own recognizance, slightly changed in appearance,” Grissom’s eyebrow went back up and Nick raised his hands briefly without thought, proclaiming his innocence on that one, “…but none the worse for wear.”
“That’s…” Nick took a moment. “That’s good.”
“That’s what his assistant—you remember Ms. Andersdatter, Nick?” Nick barely felt that jab but Sara’s snort said she got it. Nick just closed his eyes and nodded. “That’s what she thought as well. After a brief interview last night, and another longer one this morning, the LVPD has decided to close the case, such as it was, and to cease any and all further investigation about where His Royal Highness was from sunset two nights ago to dawn this morning.”
Nick’s eyes opened. Sara pulled in a loud breath.
“How did that happen?”
“Both His Royal Highness and Ms. Andersdatter were insistent that no more of our department’s resources should be wasted on what was, in their words, a harmless, impulsive adventure.”
Nick’s lips tightened. Her words more likely. Sara jerked forward and waved a hand.
“And that’s it? All our time spent looking for him and we get a thanks and don’t let the door hit you on your…!”
“…Sara!” Nick interrupted her no matter how rude it was, and she blinked, her indignation slipping away once she realized what she was saying.
“As it happens, the Royal Family would like to express it’s gratitude to the department…” Grissom hadn’t even once raised his voice to counter Sara’s.
“…For our discretion…” Sara grumbled, but quietly. Grissom ignored her, which only made her grumble more.
“A sizable donation was made to the Officer’s Retirement Fund…”
“Hush mon…”
“Sara, shut up.” He’d be begging for the chance to apologize later, but now Nick just did not want to hear it. He sat forward and put his face in his hands for a moment, knowing he was likely imagining the look Sara and Grissom exchanged. His thoughts were racing, skipping back around to Greg when he tried to focus. He didn’t understand any of this; Grissom probably knew all of it anyway, he’d hinted as much.
“In addition, His Royal Highness’ people thought it would smooth things over if he made a goodwill tour of the department and the labs, met a few of the people who had looked for him.” Nick jerked his head up, blood rushing in his ears, his stomach knotted so tightly he could puke his guts out, and Grissom—Grissom, turned away from his stare. For about half a second, Grissom looked uncomfortable. “Ecklie is walking him through the building now.”
Greg was there. There, at PD, in the labs, within reach.
Nick’s eyes felt too dry, his hands aching from holding tight to the sides of the chair.
He wouldn’t be hard to find, his outrageous hair in a sea of close-cut conservative hair and blue uniforms and white lab coats. He would be surrounded by them, all of them, all of them gawking at the visiting royalty and probably not caring what visits like this would take out of someone like Greg, the energy it took to keep going, to maintain the polite appearance. They wouldn’t even know that he was being polite, they’d be too excited to ask about him, what he liked, what he wanted, what he dreamed of.
If Nick went out there, if Greg saw him, he would light up, glow like neon until he realized exactly what it was Nick did here, how Nick had lied, and there was no way Nick could reassure him, not with so many others around. Greg would hate him. And even if he didn’t, it wasn’t like Nick could just smile at him and pretend it was all okay when he let him go again. He had already done that last night; Grissom couldn’t expect him to do it again.
“I can’t go out there,” he ground out, ready to confess if that’s what it took.
“You can and you will.” Grissom cracked down suddenly, standing up and pulling off his work vest to reveal a clean, white dress shirt. He seemed at a loss without the vest, giving it a puzzled frown before laying it across his desk. It made him somehow un-Grissom-like, like he was suddenly the kind of considerate man who would give Nick a moment or two to absorb all this information without peering at him.
But Nick wasn’t just his employee, he liked to think they were also sort of friends. His eyes burned, his throat suddenly thick, because that was exactly what Grissom was doing.
“Why?” Nick’s voice broke on the one word. He could feel the embarrassment stealing across his cheeks but didn’t try to hide it.
“Ms. Andersdatter has specifically requested the member of our crime lab who found the drugged, nearly-unconscious prince in the street and kept him from harm in his time outside her care be here, so she could tender her thanks in person. Evidently she’s more attached to the prince than she lets on.”
“She did?” Sara asked what Nick couldn’t, her disbelief obvious. Grissom shrugged, still making a show of straightening up, cleaning his glasses.
“If her timeline differs from the one Catherine and I worked out, it doesn’t matter, the case was closed.” For the first time in several minutes, Grissom’s merry, wicked smile returned. “And as for you, Sara, I thought you might like a chance to say goodbye to a friend.”
Grissom studied his watch while Sara tried to keep herself from gaping. She looked over at Nick then dropped her gaze, spinning in her chair as Grissom walked around from the desk and headed to the door.
“You know, I found him very interesting,” Grissom talked like he was having a conversation with Brass, the words washing over Nick’s neck and back when he didn’t turn around. “It’s not my place to judge the need, if any, for placing emphasis on one human being over another simply due to birth and bullies for ancestors, but I think the world could use more leaders as curious and bright as this one seems to be. I think,” Grissom paused at the door to muse, “I think this one might make us proud someday, if we trust him enough.”
“They should be in the waiting room taking pictures right about now,” Grissom changed the subject with his parting words, then disappeared, the door shutting with a click.
“Do you think I should clean up?” Sara spoke into the silence and Nick actually took a moment to look at her, his eyebrows up. She grinned, a kind, playful grin that made him smile back, just a little. But he didn’t move when she got up.
“After all, it’s not everyday a prince visits the lab,” she offered wiping her hands over her jeans, hesitating before leaving her work vest on. Her slight, sudden frown meant that she was going to demand the full story from Grissom after all of this was over. Nick wondered how long it would be before he would be able to ask her to tell him what Grissom said. He knew he couldn’t today, that he wouldn’t tomorrow either.
“Nick…” she tried again when he didn’t move.
“Don’t, Sara,” he warned in the lowest, safest voice he could manage. He looked upward, and something flickered across her face. She licked her lips and flipped her hair up into a loose knot at the back of her head. She didn’t seem to notice the lab glasses around her neck, that there was a smudge across her cheek.
She nodded once, firmly, and left him alone in the room.
There was a lot of noise outside, a lot of voices, a lot of shoes squeaking, scuffing the floors as people left Booking and the Interrogation rooms and the many labs to come stare at their visitor.
Nick turned his head to listen, wondering just how deserted the labs were now, how Greg could stand it, being surrounded by so many people demanding something of him all the time.
Did he peer over their heads, looking for something calming and familiar, or just block it out and put that MP3 player in his ears and crank it up as loud as he could to forget it all? It was the only space he’d had for himself, before; there was probably no reason to think it would be any different for him now.
Nick’s hand was on the doorknob before he even knew he had gotten up, and then he was out in the hall, following the figures in the white coats down another hall, past Reception and Brass’ office, to the sudden crush of people circling the waiting room, not even trying to pretend they weren’t there to watch him.
The walls were glass. Even at this distance Nick saw him, his hair still defiantly up in all directions, brown and gold and shining under the flickering lights. He had on patterned dress shirt in a pale blue that Ms. Andersdatter would never have chosen, loose over dress pants, unbuttoned at the top to reveal a black t-shirt that could have been stolen from Nick’s closet.
That it probably had been only made Nick move closer, issuing distracted apologies to the people he displaced as he did. He was breathing too hard, his mind stuck on the fact that Greg was still wearing his shirt.
There was no tie, only a suit jacket to match his pants, also unbuttoned. He looked comfortable, elegant in the rumpled way that rich people always managed, as casually beautiful as Nick could never be. He also looked tired, shadows beneath his eyes no matter how much he smiled, and Nick stopped outside one glass door, taking his eyes away for a moment to locate the security guards, Ms. Andersdatter, Ecklie and Brass, the Under-Sheriff, the Sheriff too, with Grissom somewhere nearby.
Someone, a few people, were taking pictures, mostly on their cell phones, and the occasional flash made Nick blink, though Greg didn’t seem to care. He kept on smiling, nodding at whatever boring crap Ecklie was probably telling him. It was his polite smile, and Nick realized that he hated it.
He was probably the only person in this room to even know Greg had a different smile, and though they had no right to see it, Nick wanted them to, to know he was something more than just a stupid title.
They would never think he was a guy who loved chocolate milkshakes and babbled about chemistry the way other guys talked about girls, a guy who had shyly dropped to his knees in a shower to suck Nick off, and then whispered with a hot face pressed to Nick’s throat that he wished Nick would fuck him. That he had freckles and had gripped Nick’s hand just as tightly on that damn coaster as Nick had gripped his, that he had pretended to smoke just so Nick would think he was experienced. As though Nick hadn’t seen him choke on his first lungful.
He shook his head at the memory, grinning despite himself, not saying a word when Sara appeared at his side.
Somewhere ahead was Catherine’s flaming red hair, bobbing as she introduced herself to Greg no matter how much Ecklie scowled. Greg liked her just like Nick had known he would; it was subtle how his face changed, how he leaned in, let his eyebrows arch up in real interest.
Nick had never felt jealous of Catherine before. But all of the things knocking the breath from him and leaving him tight and punch drunk today, that was nothing. He watched as she gestured around, to Grissom, then to the Lab itself, twisting around with a slight frown until she saw Sara.
“Sara Sidle,” he heard even with so many talking around them, and Greg lifted his head sharply, focusing on Sara in an instant. His wide, pleased smile was easily the brightest thing in the room. Nick breathed out, holding still as Greg’s gaze swept over Sara, his smile dimming after a moment as his mind worked out the connections, her vest, Grissom’s, what it meant, what it meant that he had met Sara before, not-so-innocently over coffee.
Sara held just as still, and then, almost helplessly, turned her head to look at Nick.
Greg’s throat moved as he swallowed, some of the color leaving his face as he looked over too.
His eyes were dark and frightened, confused when he saw Nick in the same vest, saw the white stripe that said “Stokes” clear as day. Nick only stared back, studying the high cheekbones as they flushed pink, the full lips as they firmed.
“Greg.” His mouth shaped the name, but he couldn’t tell if he said it out loud. Greg’s eyebrows dropped together and he looked away, directing a look at Ms. Andersdatter, then at Catherine when that didn’t seem to answer his questions.
Greg’s eyes came back up, like he couldn’t help himself, and Nick couldn’t put a hand out, couldn’t do anything more than try to smile, thinking of anything that would let him.
There had been a cherry on the floor of his truck he had noticed on the way into work. He hadn’t picked it up, even though it was going to rot in there in the sun and leave a stain on the carpeting.
He shook his head, slightly and Greg glanced at Sara, blinking.
“His Royal Highness is actually quite tired, so if you all will excuse us,” Ecklie announced over the noise of the crowd and giving no sign that he saw Catherine’s annoyed glare.
Greg yanked his attention away, directing a quiet, feverish remark at Ms. Andersdatter, who, to Nick’s amazement, turned her disapproving look on Ecklie. But the people around them had quieted down at Ecklie’s words, all of them still staring at Greg, and Nick wondered if they expected him to give some kind of speech.
“He doesn’t look like he’s ready to go,” Sara commented, loud enough to be heard in the parking lot. More than a few people turned to look at her and her grin only got wider for the attention.
Greg stared at her, momentarily captivated, and then he let out a breath so deep Nick could see his shoulders relax. His lips curved up, and he swept a look over the room, stopping at Nick. Nick shook his head the tiniest bit and felt his smile widen as Greg’s eyes immediately brightened.
“You have a remarkable city.” He bowed his head in momentary acknowledgement and somehow the whole room was silent, waiting for him to speak. “I…I’ve had more fun in Las Vegas than I have ever had…than I have ever had anywhere else…” Greg paused, his long lashes fluttering as he blinked a few times, and he jerked his head away to look out over the crowd. His lips formed a smile, the smile, the grin that made something warm bloom in Nick’s chest, made his heart pound and his stomach flip over, his skin hot where he had last felt Greg touch him. He was smiling, and knew that every reclusive lab rat, every tired lawyer, every hardened beat cop and detective in the room was smiling too. It was smile or move forward and grab Greg and babble out every word suddenly rising in his throat.
Greg only inclined his head once more, as though he owed them, and then his eyes found Nick again. “I wanted to thank you for allowing me to visit it safely,” he told him, “I will never forget the way this city has treated me, no matter where I might go.” His throat moved, forcing down just as many unspoken words. Nick put a hand out, but Greg’s head came up, his expression polite and distant. “You should be very proud,” he finished quietly, his eyes going wide when some people began to clap. His face and neck darkened with a familiar color and when he glanced at Nick he gave a pleased, slightly challenging little grin.
Ms. Andersdatter pulled discreetly at his sleeve after a moment, whispering something in his ear. Ecklie and the Under-Sheriff were at his other side, forcing Cat out of the way, and suddenly there was Grissom. Nick blinked at all the bodies in motion, the resumed talk, the excitement, standing up straight to see better.
“I understand your background was in science, perhaps you’d like to see our Crime Lab,” Grissom offered clearly and Nick knew Greg was nodding and sucked in a breath before he even heard the answer.
“I’d love to see your lab,” Greg assured him, already looking ahead. “Maybe I could meet some of your…criminalists,” he hardly paused over the new word, already pushing through the crowd like someone who had lived in Vegas for years.
He got held up by a giggling, blushing Jacqui and then a sour-faced Hodges, who looked pissed even as he shoved Bobby out of the way to introduce himself. The DNA tech, Wendy, gave Greg a once-over and Nick’s eyes narrowed as they shared a grin. But in seconds Greg was pulling away from her, surging forward to Nick only to stop awkwardly once he was a few feet away.
He looked at Nick, then at Sara. Sara put out her hand.
“It is so very nice to meet you.” Nick could hear the mischief in her voice; there was no way Ecklie was going to miss it.
“You have no idea how pleased I am to meet you as well,” Greg responded formally. He took Sara’s hand in both of his and shook it slowly. They grinned at each other like old friends for a moment, and then Greg’s mouth opened as he pulled in a breath.
He set his shoulders back, his brows dropping in a slight frown.
Then he looked over at Nick.
Nick put out a hand he knew was shaking and let Greg take it. Greg’s fingers curled around his, warm and strong, gripping tightly as though he could feel the roar around them too.
His eyes would not leave his face and Nick dragged his gaze over Greg’s cheeks and jaw, his silly hair and the soft lips.
“How do you do?” he tried out and watched Greg’s mouth fall slightly open.
“How do you do?” Greg answered as he was supposed to while his eyes lit up like bonfires. It would have been impossible to not love him.
Nick tried to say that even if he couldn’t, even if there hadn’t been the eyes of the entire PD on them, if it had even possible to drag Greg to a room somewhere private and hold him for a while longer, even if everyone here wasn’t starting to see just how special Greg was now that he was leaving. And they were, every one wanting Greg to look at them, but this, this was his, and he tried to say all of that, finally closing his mouth and just giving a small nod.
Greg let out a breath, just as small, just as careful, his gaze setting Nick on fire too, and then his hand was sliding free of Nick’s as he was urged on for more of the tour. He met Archie somewhere behind him. His voice sounded subdued, dazed as he said hello. A beat cop got him after that, and then Detective O’Malley, and then Nick couldn’t hear anymore.
He stayed where he was as the crowd followed him out, closing his eyes as Greg turned the corner and vanished for the last time.
It was quieter without him, just whispers and the occasional footstep as the cops who had remained behind tossed their heads and got back to work. Sara was still beside him, her body twisted as though she had seen Greg leave, had waited to see if he would turn back when they both knew he couldn’t. He wouldn’t; Nick let out a breath.
“Nick…” Sara tried, after a long moment, and Nick shook his head and opened his eyes to offer her a smile before he had to look away from what was on her face.
He cleared his throat and kept his smile where it was as he started to walk in the other direction, knowing he had work waiting for him in Grissom’s office. Sara was still behind him, watching him like she knew everything, and she didn’t. She never could.
“You know how the slogan goes, Sara,” he called out, and the rest of his words echoed off the shining walls of the station around them.
And then...maybe...an little something for those who wish the ending were different.
such a good movie
(Vegas Holiday)
AN: I have issues, I know it.
The call had come sooner than Nick had expected.
He had driven home and undressed, pulling down the blackout curtains in his bedroom as though it was just another morning after a long shift. He had turned on his cell phone and set it with his glasses on the nightstand. He may have even slept, he wasn’t really sure.
But the ring hadn’t startled him, and seeing Sara on the Caller ID had only made him pause for a second.
“Nick.” He could remember Sara’s voice easily, hesitant and unusually gentle. “Grissom wants you to report in tonight, but come in at nine.” She’d waited a second before going on. “In his office.”
Nick looked up. From his chair in front of Grissom’s desk he could see all of Grissom’s experiments, past and current. Yesterday he had been worried he was going to end up like that dead pig floating in a jar, now he was just staring at how the fluorescent lights hit the glass, imagining Greg’s reaction to it. He’d probably think it was gross for all of a second and then start in with the questions on how and why it got there.
Then as his thoughts seemed to always circle back, he wondered if Greg was all right, which was stupid and a waste of time, not that it had kept him from wondering for the past few hours. He’d been right about that when he had told Sara that Greg didn’t need saving. It had taken Greg less than a day to conquer Nick, Sara, hell…the whole damn city.
Greg had been, what, a one night stand? And it was foolish of Nick to still be thinking about him, hoping he had stood up that woman, and his parents, hoping there wouldn’t be any serious repercussions, when Nick was the one whose job was in jeopardy.
By now they would have at least seen Nick inside of Caesar’s the other night, even if they hadn’t seen him with Greg—with the prince—and there was still the matter of how he had acted toward a witness, and such an important witness.
He should have known then. He closed his eyes only to open them again when the door opened.
Sara stepped into view, her jaw working as she sat down in the chair next to him.
“Sara?” he asked anyway. Her cheeks were flushed, which with her tight jaw, meant she was worked up over something, but she managed a smile.
“Would you rather it was Ecklie?” she teased him, sounding as merciless as ever, but her eyes were all melted chocolate.
Nick swallowed, then shook his head.
“They called us all back just before dawn,” she remarked, dropping her voice until she was whispering and Nick looked away, not wanting to know what he looked like to make Sara speak like that. Her hand landed carefully on his knee, drawing his attention back.
“Was…?”
“Oh good, you’re both here,” Grissom spoke merrily from the doorway and Sara jerked to attention, pulling her hand back. Nick straightened up, already wincing to hear the soft note of pleasure in Grissom’s voice that meant he was about to stick another T-pin in whatever he was dissecting. Then he closed the door behind him, which was never a sign of anything good.
He walked to his seat behind the desk and took his time getting settled, leaving Sara to fidget and Nick to watch silently. When he evidently felt they had waited long enough, he looked up, looked each of them in the eye with the blank face that, according to Warrick, had won more than its share of poker games.
His gaze flicked to Sara once or twice then fixed on Nick. Nick stared back for a moment then he felt himself frowning, gritting his teeth to keep himself from shouting for Grissom to get it over with. He was fired, he was suspended, he was transferred to Days, whatever it was he just wanted to hear it and go home.
“Nick, you can report in for your shift tonight, in fact, you’ll be covering Warrick since, due to recent events, he has had to work two doubles back to back. I told him he could have the evening off.” Grissom’s tone with mild, maybe even amused, and Nick blinked. He jerked his chin up and tried not to look at Sara.
“Sadly, and also due to recent events, this is the case with many of the team, so all available CSIs are needed in the field.” It was the Grissom version of a slap to the face, a reminder of just how hard everyone had been working.
It stole his breath for a moment and Nick glanced down. “What about Ecklie?” he asked when he looked back up. At that, Grissom’s lips twisted.
“Conrad is…busy at the moment…and likely to remain that way for the next several hours. I doubt he’ll remember about you until later in the week.”
“Something to look forward to,” Sara joked and Nick shot her a grateful look. Grissom focused on her too, and her smile faded. Grissom’s never left his face. Nick didn’t blame Sara at all for shifting in her seat.
“I get the feeling you both have something to tell me,” Grissom remarked mildly and Nick felt his mouth fall open. He pulled in a deep breath, cold in his dry, rough throat, and then raised his chin.
“Yeah,” he agreed, as steady as he could manage and Grissom’s smile widened.
“Good. Unfortunately I don’t have time to hear the whole story right now. There’s an… event that requires my presence. Yours too, Nick.” His gaze transferred to Sara. “And yours.”
“I…what?” Sara’s eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously.
“You’ve been specifically invited, Nick, but even if you weren’t, I’m sure Ecklie would say the Lab demands it.”
“Invited where?” His heart was finally starting to slow down, but Nick couldn’t help leaning forward, scowling at the thought of some office party or official gathering. He wasn’t in the mood for something like that. He didn’t even like crowds; he would never have even gone to Fremont Street if it hadn’t been for Greg.
There was a place with magic programmed every hour on the hour and Greg had made it somehow seem real. That he knew it all fake and planned didn’t matter, not the way Greg had simply seized the moment, seized Nick as though he was a part of it too, as though Greg didn’t realize that he was the one making it so special.
Nick lowered his head and stared at the edge of Grissom’s desk, trying to wipe thoughts of Greg from his mind, at least until he was out of this room. But Grissom was Grissom, and made him jump with only five simple words.
“The prince returned this morning,” Grissom tossed out and Nick didn’t care if Grissom was his boss, and a good one, or if he was possibly the most brilliant forensics analyst inside or outside of Quantico, he snapped his head up and stared hard at him.
Grissom stared back, too damn calm, too goddamn knowing. Nick inhaled through his nose and clenched his jaw, not giving one good goddamn about what his mother would think about all his swearing.
“He’s all right?” he asked at last, breathing heavily.
“Nick…” Sara whispered just his name, as though hearing it didn’t make him think of the way Greg had said it, like he was happy just to be saying it.
“He’s fine,” Grissom assured him softly and abruptly leaned back in his chair. He let out a sigh and lifted his glasses to rub at his eyes. Sara twitched. “He’s more than fine. I suspect…” he left that thought unfinished, trailing off before he focused on Nick again.
If Warrick had been working doubles back to back, then probably so had Grissom, and Nick fought the urge to duck his head and apologize. It only got worse when Grissom went on.
“Shortly before dawn this morning he walked into the Bellagio under his own recognizance, slightly changed in appearance,” Grissom’s eyebrow went back up and Nick raised his hands briefly without thought, proclaiming his innocence on that one, “…but none the worse for wear.”
“That’s…” Nick took a moment. “That’s good.”
“That’s what his assistant—you remember Ms. Andersdatter, Nick?” Nick barely felt that jab but Sara’s snort said she got it. Nick just closed his eyes and nodded. “That’s what she thought as well. After a brief interview last night, and another longer one this morning, the LVPD has decided to close the case, such as it was, and to cease any and all further investigation about where His Royal Highness was from sunset two nights ago to dawn this morning.”
Nick’s eyes opened. Sara pulled in a loud breath.
“How did that happen?”
“Both His Royal Highness and Ms. Andersdatter were insistent that no more of our department’s resources should be wasted on what was, in their words, a harmless, impulsive adventure.”
Nick’s lips tightened. Her words more likely. Sara jerked forward and waved a hand.
“And that’s it? All our time spent looking for him and we get a thanks and don’t let the door hit you on your…!”
“…Sara!” Nick interrupted her no matter how rude it was, and she blinked, her indignation slipping away once she realized what she was saying.
“As it happens, the Royal Family would like to express it’s gratitude to the department…” Grissom hadn’t even once raised his voice to counter Sara’s.
“…For our discretion…” Sara grumbled, but quietly. Grissom ignored her, which only made her grumble more.
“A sizable donation was made to the Officer’s Retirement Fund…”
“Hush mon…”
“Sara, shut up.” He’d be begging for the chance to apologize later, but now Nick just did not want to hear it. He sat forward and put his face in his hands for a moment, knowing he was likely imagining the look Sara and Grissom exchanged. His thoughts were racing, skipping back around to Greg when he tried to focus. He didn’t understand any of this; Grissom probably knew all of it anyway, he’d hinted as much.
“In addition, His Royal Highness’ people thought it would smooth things over if he made a goodwill tour of the department and the labs, met a few of the people who had looked for him.” Nick jerked his head up, blood rushing in his ears, his stomach knotted so tightly he could puke his guts out, and Grissom—Grissom, turned away from his stare. For about half a second, Grissom looked uncomfortable. “Ecklie is walking him through the building now.”
Greg was there. There, at PD, in the labs, within reach.
Nick’s eyes felt too dry, his hands aching from holding tight to the sides of the chair.
He wouldn’t be hard to find, his outrageous hair in a sea of close-cut conservative hair and blue uniforms and white lab coats. He would be surrounded by them, all of them, all of them gawking at the visiting royalty and probably not caring what visits like this would take out of someone like Greg, the energy it took to keep going, to maintain the polite appearance. They wouldn’t even know that he was being polite, they’d be too excited to ask about him, what he liked, what he wanted, what he dreamed of.
If Nick went out there, if Greg saw him, he would light up, glow like neon until he realized exactly what it was Nick did here, how Nick had lied, and there was no way Nick could reassure him, not with so many others around. Greg would hate him. And even if he didn’t, it wasn’t like Nick could just smile at him and pretend it was all okay when he let him go again. He had already done that last night; Grissom couldn’t expect him to do it again.
“I can’t go out there,” he ground out, ready to confess if that’s what it took.
“You can and you will.” Grissom cracked down suddenly, standing up and pulling off his work vest to reveal a clean, white dress shirt. He seemed at a loss without the vest, giving it a puzzled frown before laying it across his desk. It made him somehow un-Grissom-like, like he was suddenly the kind of considerate man who would give Nick a moment or two to absorb all this information without peering at him.
But Nick wasn’t just his employee, he liked to think they were also sort of friends. His eyes burned, his throat suddenly thick, because that was exactly what Grissom was doing.
“Why?” Nick’s voice broke on the one word. He could feel the embarrassment stealing across his cheeks but didn’t try to hide it.
“Ms. Andersdatter has specifically requested the member of our crime lab who found the drugged, nearly-unconscious prince in the street and kept him from harm in his time outside her care be here, so she could tender her thanks in person. Evidently she’s more attached to the prince than she lets on.”
“She did?” Sara asked what Nick couldn’t, her disbelief obvious. Grissom shrugged, still making a show of straightening up, cleaning his glasses.
“If her timeline differs from the one Catherine and I worked out, it doesn’t matter, the case was closed.” For the first time in several minutes, Grissom’s merry, wicked smile returned. “And as for you, Sara, I thought you might like a chance to say goodbye to a friend.”
Grissom studied his watch while Sara tried to keep herself from gaping. She looked over at Nick then dropped her gaze, spinning in her chair as Grissom walked around from the desk and headed to the door.
“You know, I found him very interesting,” Grissom talked like he was having a conversation with Brass, the words washing over Nick’s neck and back when he didn’t turn around. “It’s not my place to judge the need, if any, for placing emphasis on one human being over another simply due to birth and bullies for ancestors, but I think the world could use more leaders as curious and bright as this one seems to be. I think,” Grissom paused at the door to muse, “I think this one might make us proud someday, if we trust him enough.”
“They should be in the waiting room taking pictures right about now,” Grissom changed the subject with his parting words, then disappeared, the door shutting with a click.
“Do you think I should clean up?” Sara spoke into the silence and Nick actually took a moment to look at her, his eyebrows up. She grinned, a kind, playful grin that made him smile back, just a little. But he didn’t move when she got up.
“After all, it’s not everyday a prince visits the lab,” she offered wiping her hands over her jeans, hesitating before leaving her work vest on. Her slight, sudden frown meant that she was going to demand the full story from Grissom after all of this was over. Nick wondered how long it would be before he would be able to ask her to tell him what Grissom said. He knew he couldn’t today, that he wouldn’t tomorrow either.
“Nick…” she tried again when he didn’t move.
“Don’t, Sara,” he warned in the lowest, safest voice he could manage. He looked upward, and something flickered across her face. She licked her lips and flipped her hair up into a loose knot at the back of her head. She didn’t seem to notice the lab glasses around her neck, that there was a smudge across her cheek.
She nodded once, firmly, and left him alone in the room.
There was a lot of noise outside, a lot of voices, a lot of shoes squeaking, scuffing the floors as people left Booking and the Interrogation rooms and the many labs to come stare at their visitor.
Nick turned his head to listen, wondering just how deserted the labs were now, how Greg could stand it, being surrounded by so many people demanding something of him all the time.
Did he peer over their heads, looking for something calming and familiar, or just block it out and put that MP3 player in his ears and crank it up as loud as he could to forget it all? It was the only space he’d had for himself, before; there was probably no reason to think it would be any different for him now.
Nick’s hand was on the doorknob before he even knew he had gotten up, and then he was out in the hall, following the figures in the white coats down another hall, past Reception and Brass’ office, to the sudden crush of people circling the waiting room, not even trying to pretend they weren’t there to watch him.
The walls were glass. Even at this distance Nick saw him, his hair still defiantly up in all directions, brown and gold and shining under the flickering lights. He had on patterned dress shirt in a pale blue that Ms. Andersdatter would never have chosen, loose over dress pants, unbuttoned at the top to reveal a black t-shirt that could have been stolen from Nick’s closet.
That it probably had been only made Nick move closer, issuing distracted apologies to the people he displaced as he did. He was breathing too hard, his mind stuck on the fact that Greg was still wearing his shirt.
There was no tie, only a suit jacket to match his pants, also unbuttoned. He looked comfortable, elegant in the rumpled way that rich people always managed, as casually beautiful as Nick could never be. He also looked tired, shadows beneath his eyes no matter how much he smiled, and Nick stopped outside one glass door, taking his eyes away for a moment to locate the security guards, Ms. Andersdatter, Ecklie and Brass, the Under-Sheriff, the Sheriff too, with Grissom somewhere nearby.
Someone, a few people, were taking pictures, mostly on their cell phones, and the occasional flash made Nick blink, though Greg didn’t seem to care. He kept on smiling, nodding at whatever boring crap Ecklie was probably telling him. It was his polite smile, and Nick realized that he hated it.
He was probably the only person in this room to even know Greg had a different smile, and though they had no right to see it, Nick wanted them to, to know he was something more than just a stupid title.
They would never think he was a guy who loved chocolate milkshakes and babbled about chemistry the way other guys talked about girls, a guy who had shyly dropped to his knees in a shower to suck Nick off, and then whispered with a hot face pressed to Nick’s throat that he wished Nick would fuck him. That he had freckles and had gripped Nick’s hand just as tightly on that damn coaster as Nick had gripped his, that he had pretended to smoke just so Nick would think he was experienced. As though Nick hadn’t seen him choke on his first lungful.
He shook his head at the memory, grinning despite himself, not saying a word when Sara appeared at his side.
Somewhere ahead was Catherine’s flaming red hair, bobbing as she introduced herself to Greg no matter how much Ecklie scowled. Greg liked her just like Nick had known he would; it was subtle how his face changed, how he leaned in, let his eyebrows arch up in real interest.
Nick had never felt jealous of Catherine before. But all of the things knocking the breath from him and leaving him tight and punch drunk today, that was nothing. He watched as she gestured around, to Grissom, then to the Lab itself, twisting around with a slight frown until she saw Sara.
“Sara Sidle,” he heard even with so many talking around them, and Greg lifted his head sharply, focusing on Sara in an instant. His wide, pleased smile was easily the brightest thing in the room. Nick breathed out, holding still as Greg’s gaze swept over Sara, his smile dimming after a moment as his mind worked out the connections, her vest, Grissom’s, what it meant, what it meant that he had met Sara before, not-so-innocently over coffee.
Sara held just as still, and then, almost helplessly, turned her head to look at Nick.
Greg’s throat moved as he swallowed, some of the color leaving his face as he looked over too.
His eyes were dark and frightened, confused when he saw Nick in the same vest, saw the white stripe that said “Stokes” clear as day. Nick only stared back, studying the high cheekbones as they flushed pink, the full lips as they firmed.
“Greg.” His mouth shaped the name, but he couldn’t tell if he said it out loud. Greg’s eyebrows dropped together and he looked away, directing a look at Ms. Andersdatter, then at Catherine when that didn’t seem to answer his questions.
Greg’s eyes came back up, like he couldn’t help himself, and Nick couldn’t put a hand out, couldn’t do anything more than try to smile, thinking of anything that would let him.
There had been a cherry on the floor of his truck he had noticed on the way into work. He hadn’t picked it up, even though it was going to rot in there in the sun and leave a stain on the carpeting.
He shook his head, slightly and Greg glanced at Sara, blinking.
“His Royal Highness is actually quite tired, so if you all will excuse us,” Ecklie announced over the noise of the crowd and giving no sign that he saw Catherine’s annoyed glare.
Greg yanked his attention away, directing a quiet, feverish remark at Ms. Andersdatter, who, to Nick’s amazement, turned her disapproving look on Ecklie. But the people around them had quieted down at Ecklie’s words, all of them still staring at Greg, and Nick wondered if they expected him to give some kind of speech.
“He doesn’t look like he’s ready to go,” Sara commented, loud enough to be heard in the parking lot. More than a few people turned to look at her and her grin only got wider for the attention.
Greg stared at her, momentarily captivated, and then he let out a breath so deep Nick could see his shoulders relax. His lips curved up, and he swept a look over the room, stopping at Nick. Nick shook his head the tiniest bit and felt his smile widen as Greg’s eyes immediately brightened.
“You have a remarkable city.” He bowed his head in momentary acknowledgement and somehow the whole room was silent, waiting for him to speak. “I…I’ve had more fun in Las Vegas than I have ever had…than I have ever had anywhere else…” Greg paused, his long lashes fluttering as he blinked a few times, and he jerked his head away to look out over the crowd. His lips formed a smile, the smile, the grin that made something warm bloom in Nick’s chest, made his heart pound and his stomach flip over, his skin hot where he had last felt Greg touch him. He was smiling, and knew that every reclusive lab rat, every tired lawyer, every hardened beat cop and detective in the room was smiling too. It was smile or move forward and grab Greg and babble out every word suddenly rising in his throat.
Greg only inclined his head once more, as though he owed them, and then his eyes found Nick again. “I wanted to thank you for allowing me to visit it safely,” he told him, “I will never forget the way this city has treated me, no matter where I might go.” His throat moved, forcing down just as many unspoken words. Nick put a hand out, but Greg’s head came up, his expression polite and distant. “You should be very proud,” he finished quietly, his eyes going wide when some people began to clap. His face and neck darkened with a familiar color and when he glanced at Nick he gave a pleased, slightly challenging little grin.
Ms. Andersdatter pulled discreetly at his sleeve after a moment, whispering something in his ear. Ecklie and the Under-Sheriff were at his other side, forcing Cat out of the way, and suddenly there was Grissom. Nick blinked at all the bodies in motion, the resumed talk, the excitement, standing up straight to see better.
“I understand your background was in science, perhaps you’d like to see our Crime Lab,” Grissom offered clearly and Nick knew Greg was nodding and sucked in a breath before he even heard the answer.
“I’d love to see your lab,” Greg assured him, already looking ahead. “Maybe I could meet some of your…criminalists,” he hardly paused over the new word, already pushing through the crowd like someone who had lived in Vegas for years.
He got held up by a giggling, blushing Jacqui and then a sour-faced Hodges, who looked pissed even as he shoved Bobby out of the way to introduce himself. The DNA tech, Wendy, gave Greg a once-over and Nick’s eyes narrowed as they shared a grin. But in seconds Greg was pulling away from her, surging forward to Nick only to stop awkwardly once he was a few feet away.
He looked at Nick, then at Sara. Sara put out her hand.
“It is so very nice to meet you.” Nick could hear the mischief in her voice; there was no way Ecklie was going to miss it.
“You have no idea how pleased I am to meet you as well,” Greg responded formally. He took Sara’s hand in both of his and shook it slowly. They grinned at each other like old friends for a moment, and then Greg’s mouth opened as he pulled in a breath.
He set his shoulders back, his brows dropping in a slight frown.
Then he looked over at Nick.
Nick put out a hand he knew was shaking and let Greg take it. Greg’s fingers curled around his, warm and strong, gripping tightly as though he could feel the roar around them too.
His eyes would not leave his face and Nick dragged his gaze over Greg’s cheeks and jaw, his silly hair and the soft lips.
“How do you do?” he tried out and watched Greg’s mouth fall slightly open.
“How do you do?” Greg answered as he was supposed to while his eyes lit up like bonfires. It would have been impossible to not love him.
Nick tried to say that even if he couldn’t, even if there hadn’t been the eyes of the entire PD on them, if it had even possible to drag Greg to a room somewhere private and hold him for a while longer, even if everyone here wasn’t starting to see just how special Greg was now that he was leaving. And they were, every one wanting Greg to look at them, but this, this was his, and he tried to say all of that, finally closing his mouth and just giving a small nod.
Greg let out a breath, just as small, just as careful, his gaze setting Nick on fire too, and then his hand was sliding free of Nick’s as he was urged on for more of the tour. He met Archie somewhere behind him. His voice sounded subdued, dazed as he said hello. A beat cop got him after that, and then Detective O’Malley, and then Nick couldn’t hear anymore.
He stayed where he was as the crowd followed him out, closing his eyes as Greg turned the corner and vanished for the last time.
It was quieter without him, just whispers and the occasional footstep as the cops who had remained behind tossed their heads and got back to work. Sara was still beside him, her body twisted as though she had seen Greg leave, had waited to see if he would turn back when they both knew he couldn’t. He wouldn’t; Nick let out a breath.
“Nick…” Sara tried, after a long moment, and Nick shook his head and opened his eyes to offer her a smile before he had to look away from what was on her face.
He cleared his throat and kept his smile where it was as he started to walk in the other direction, knowing he had work waiting for him in Grissom’s office. Sara was still behind him, watching him like she knew everything, and she didn’t. She never could.
“You know how the slogan goes, Sara,” he called out, and the rest of his words echoed off the shining walls of the station around them.
And then...maybe...an little something for those who wish the ending were different.
such a good movie
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