Title: Greece

Author: Emily Brunson

Fandom: Crime Scene Investigation

Pairing: Gil/Nick

NOTES: This is a schmoopy post-"Canada" interlude, complete in one part. Call it the sweet filling between angsty "Canada" and REALLY angsty projected third story, called "The Gospel of Mary." I was going to give all the installments geographic names, but I blew it with story 3. Sorry about the delays in other stories. Been, shall we say, an interesting month, in the ancient Chinese curse sense of the term. There will definitely be more Statistic quite soon, and Boxing the Compass too, if I can get things under control around here. And one more new one in the works, currently titled "The Practice Method." As always, comments entirely welcome, either on-list or in private. Hope you enjoy! Em

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Greece
by Emily Brunson
(c)2002



It started out like any other day.

If he were ever to write a book about his life, Gil Grissom thought, that would make an appropriate, if not entirely original, opening. Most of his workdays did start out pretty much the same. Hand out assignments, finish whatever paperwork he had the stomach for until he could ditch it and get out in the field, and start the hunt.

It really was a hunt, even if his various quarries were facts and evidence instead of actual people, by and large. The times he'd forgotten about that, the times he'd let it slide into being personal, he'd had almost universal regrets. Didn't matter how many times he reminded other people they were hunting evidence; it would never match the thousands of times he'd had to remind himself of that same fact.

Not that anyone really needed to know about that. Either they got it, or they didn't, and either way the same work had to be done.

Of course, today wasn't really just like any other, was it? Really?

He drew a deep breath and didn't let himself sigh. Onward and upward, Gil. Onward, through the fog. Etc.

"Hey."

He looked up at Catherine and smiled. "Hi."

"You look tired."

"Thanks," he replied dryly.

She didn't bite. "Weekend okay?" she asked, sitting down across the desk from him.

"Fine. You?"

"Great. Gil --"

"Don't worry about it." He looked over at the doorway. "So do you people want assignments, or should I just try to do this all by myself?"

With various flavors of chastisement writ on their faces, he watched his team stream in. At least people were smiling. Well, all but Sara, but then that wasn't exactly a surprise anymore, was it?

"Where's Nick?" he asked Warrick.

"Saw him in the locker room. On his way."

"Okay. You testified this afternoon?"

"In the flesh." Warrick produced a grumpy half-smile. "Piece of cake."

Gil nodded. "Excellent. Catherine --"

"Hold on a sec."

He followed Warrick's gaze out the window. Watching Nick, and not without cause. Warrick knew that look as well as Gil did, and it had only one meaning.

Trouble.

"Hey, Eckley," he heard Nick call, a perfectly normal, friendly voice.

Eckley appeared around the corner. "What?"

"Wanted to ask you something."

Sotto voce, Catherine said, "I don't think this is good."

"Nope," Warrick agreed. "Griss?"

Gil stood up in time to hear Nick ask, that same friendly, just-us-grunts tone: "Was wondering if you knew of a good dentist."

Eckley smirked, and Gil's stomach tensed. "Why, you getting TMJ?"

"Nah." Nick's smile didn't waver, but turned as cold as any Gil had ever seen. "Just thinking you're gonna need one."

If Eckley'd been smart, he would have taken his cue to duck, but of course Eckley wasn't that smart; too full of his own sense of self-importance to think that way. "What?" he asked, and that was when Nick punched him.

"Shit," he heard Warrick hiss, but that didn't much matter. Gil was
already out the door.

"Nick!"

Eckley lay on the floor where he'd ended up, reaching up to finger his jaw with an incredulous look. Too surprised to even be pissed yet. Nick
flexed his fingers and looked over at Gil without a trace of apology on his face. "Hey, Grissom," he said, perfectly casual.

"You're OUT, Shtokes," Eckley said indistinctly, pushing himself up off the floor. His face was dull red, jaw already swelling. "HISHTORY."

Nick gave him the same flat look that had so chilled Gil before. "Well,
we'll have to see about that, won't we?" he returned without blinking.

"It'sh ash good ash done," Eckley snarled, and spat out a tooth.

"See? Now why don't you go call that dentist and we'll go to work?"

"I'll be sending you the bill! Fucking fagg --"

"ENOUGH!" Gil roared, with the faintly gratifying knowledge that everyone was suddenly staring at him rather than the jerk on the floor. "Conrad, I apologize for this. It won't happen again."

"You sure about that?" came Warrick's barely audible comment.

"I want this man suspended, Grissom, you got it?" Eckley clambered to his feet, still holding his jaw. "As of now! He's gonna be looking for a janitorial job before the end of the week."

Nick stiffened. "After all the cleaning up we do for you, *Conrad*, I
guess it won't be that much different from here."

"Nick. In my office, NOW." Gil stared at him until Nick nodded and went, body tight with anger. "Catherine? Give these out." He stuck out the sheaf of assignment papers he still held, and didn't look to see if it was her that took them. Just waited for them to disappear. Alone in the hall, or mostly alone, he continued, "Eckley, you've been slandering me for weeks. And Nick. In case you missed that one department meeting where we discussed certain anti-discrimination policies, let me refresh you. What we do in our own private time is no one's business. You got it? We aren't breaking any rules. Unless you want me to counter with a harassment charge, you'll walk away from here and be glad Nick didn't take out more than a tooth."

"You can't threaten me, Gil," Eckley said venomously. "I don't care what you and your little fuck-buddy in there do between the sheets. But this was an assault, and I did nothing --"

"Everyone here knows what you've done. Better watch what you put in
writing. It's evidence."

Eckley had the self-preservation to go a little pale at that. "I didn't
write any memos."

Gil lifted an eyebrow. "Who says it was a memo?"

"You bast --"

"I'll suspend Nick for a week without pay. You'll send me the dentist's
bill, and none of this will happen again. Are we clear?"

He didn't wait for more than the little twitch of recognition -- you
fuckwad -- before he walked briskly back into his office and shut the door.

"He had it coming," Nick said hoarsely. "Bigoted asshole."

Gil sat down behind his desk. Christ, he was already tired, and this
little fracas had made him feel roughly eighty years old. "I can't fix
someone's prejudices, Nick, and neither can you. Were you out of your
mind? What the hell were you thinking?"

Nick didn't say anything, and Gil looked at his pinched expression and
wanted to soften, but couldn't. "There'll be censure for this," Gil said quietly. "I'll have to suspend you, and the chief's going to want his pound of flesh, too."

"Which means?"

"You might get fired."

Nick's gaze flickered down. "Whatever."

"Or maybe just booted back to CSI 2. I can't say for sure."

"He painted my locker pink."

Gil blinked at him. "He did what?"

"You don't see everything," Nick said in a heated whisper. Still looking down, cheeks gone red. "Nobody messes with you much. They know
better. Me?" He snorted. "I'm fair game."

Gil's mouth felt very dry. "What have you not been telling me?"

"Nothing. Look, I'm just saying, Eckley's memo wasn't the only -- instance."

"If you can prove that, you should go to the chief."

"And do what? Complain?" Nick shook his head slowly. "Look, I'll just --
deal. I'm sorry about that, out there. I didn't -- I lost control. Won't happen again."

It had the feel of rote, something Nick was saying so he could get Gil off the ropes, and the recognition made him feel pretty damn terrible. "I believe you, okay? Okay?" he repeated, waiting for Nick to look at
him. "I'm sorry," Gil said intensely. "I didn't realize you were getting so much flak."

"No big deal," Nick murmured.

"Yes, it is. And don't think I won't do something about it. But --" He
held up a hand when Nick started to reply. "But you, I want to go
home. You're off for the week. That much I have to do."

"Right." Nick sighed. "I understand."

When he was at the door Gil spoke again, softly. "I know you didn't expect to buy into this. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"It was as much my decision as yours," Nick replied, half-turning. "I'm a big boy. I can handle it. Mostly," he amended with a duck of his head.

"Don't think I didn't want to do the exact same thing."

"But you didn't."

"Well, I didn't walk into work today to find my desk painted pink."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Nick's tense face. "Nope. Not yet."

"I'll see you at home, okay?"

"I'll be there."

He watched Nick walk out, and then leaned back in his chair and reached up to rub his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hadn't been Eckley's poison-pen memo that had started everything. That much Gil had to give the weasel. Eckley was only commenting on what had become public knowledge.

Straight-shooter Catherine might or might not have been the first to notice anything. Gil wasn't ever sure about that. But what was for sure was that it was Cath who addressed the question directly, two weeks ago.

"Got a minute?"

"Sure," Gil said, putting down the report he was holding. "What's up?"

With a quirky half-smile she pushed the door to. "If I ask you something personal, will you flip?"

He frowned at her. "How personal?"

She sat down across from him and laced her hands together. "Pretty damn
personal."

"You can ask."

"There's a few rumors going around."

"Rumors?" He gave her a placid look while his stomach clenched.

Catherine nodded. "You know I don't much care, right?" she asked
softly. "What you do is your own business. But I think it's something
you'll have to address at some point."

"You haven't told me what the rumors are."

"You and Nick."

"You could elaborate."

"I don't think I have to. Do I?"

He smiled faintly. "Now that you mention it, no. I don't suppose so."

"So it's true?"

"Not being completely sure what 'it' is, I'll give you a tentative yes."

She nodded again, looking a little floored. "Jesus, Gil, how -- What –"

"How long? About four months."

"Since Canada."

"Yeah. Since Canada."

"Wow," Catherine said weakly.

"That answer your question?"

"Nick always said he was a ladies' man."

Gil laughed. "He always was."

There was a moment of fairly uncomfortable silence. "Okay, then,"
Catherine said, eyes still wide. "I, ah. Guess you answered my question, then."

"What do the rumors say?"

"You sure you want to know."

"Honestly? Not really."

"That you're sleeping with him. That's one."

"True." He met her gaze steadily. "And?"

"I'm not sure I want to say."

"We're involved. Anything else is private, and no one's business but our own."

"Right. I agree."

"Rest of the team know?"

"They suspect. Like I did."

He frowned. "What made you suspect?"

She looked really uncomfortable now. "Come on, we're all grownups here. I
can add two and two and come up with four, most of the time. You leave
together, come to work together -- Evidence," she added with an awkward smile.

"Point taken."

"Not to mention that Nick gets all oogly around you."

"*Oogly*?"

The smile became a grin. "He lights up when you walk in the room, Gil. There aren't many other explanations for that."

"He lights up?"

"Completely."

In spite of feeling a little flummoxed, it wasn't bad hearing it. "I --
hadn't noticed."

"Trust me."

"I do."

~~~~~~~~~

He had no idea how to bring it up to Nick, or even if he should. It wasn't that they hadn't discussed it. A little. But Nick's reaction had been typically Nick-ish: "It's none of their business. They don't clear it with us when they start seeing someone; why should we?"

Gil could have told him it probably wouldn't be that simple, but Nick's
words were kind of irrefutable at the time. Now? Maybe not so much.

Over an extremely late dinner, he said, "Had an interesting talk with
Catherine today."

Nick looked up. "Yeah? About?"

"Us."

Nick set down his fork. "Us, as in you and me?"

"Yeah."

They ate in silence for a moment, or Gil did; Nick poked at his
food. Finally he drew a deep breath. "Did you tell her?"

"She kind of figured it out on her own, Nick. Did you want me to say no?"

Nick paused. "Of course not."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." Nick poked a little more. "Actually, she's not the only one," he added in a faintly sheepish voice.

Gil sat back. "Who?"

Nick's cheeks were a bit pink. "Warrick dogged me about it tonight."

"They double-teamed us."

"Looks like it."

"Well. You okay with that?"

"Guess I better be."

"We haven't talked much about this. I don't want this to make you feel
uncomfortable. Being out is --"

"You know what's been making me uncomfortable?"

Gil looked his question at him, and Nick pushed his plate away. "I'm not a real good liar," he said awkwardly. "Not used to it, I guess. I mean, it's not really their business. But I don't mind not having to lie so much."

Gil frowned. "When do you have to lie?"

"Look, I'm not saying I want to tell my folks yet." He snorted. "Don't
know if I'll ever be ready for that. But these are our friends,
too. Lying about it -- it's like we have something to be ashamed of."

Gil nodded slowly. "Some people would say we do."

"Well, I grew up with a lot of people like that, and I've never thought
they were right. If nobody gets hurt, who cares?"

Gil smiled at him, and Nick got red again. "What?"

"You're a very interesting person."

"Not really."

"Yes, really."

A tiny, pleased smile curved Nick's mouth.

"Catherine says you get oogly."

"Oogly? What the hell is that?"

Gil shrugged, picking at his unwanted food. "It's how she says she
noticed. You get oogly when I'm around."

"I do not!"

"She's a pretty good observer...."

"I don't even know what 'oogly' is, but I'm damn sure I'm not it!" He
paused. "Am I?"

"Well, kind of."

"Oh, God."

Gil grinned. "It's not a bad thing, you know. I'm not complaining."

Nick hid his face in his hands. "I'm oogly," he mumbled. "That's disgusting."

"It's cute."

"S'that supposed to make me feel better?"

Gil stood up and leaned over the table. "No, but maybe this will." He
waited until Nick uncovered his face, and kissed Nick's mouth
soundly. "Oogly or not."

Nick grinned. "Wanna know what Warrick said about you?"

"Oh no."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course it wasn't that simple.

People acted just about the same around him. There weren't any more
questions, at least none addressed to him. And if anyone thought anything, they didn't say it.

And with all the cards on the table, it did feel somehow easier. Not
having to worry about hiding anything. Nick had made a good point: it was pretty tough to act as if nothing were different, when, well, everything was. And it was harder to hide being kind of...happy.

More than kind of. Very, very happy.

So when Sara dropped her bombshell, it took him completely by surprise.

"You're what?"

"It's all there," she told him, nodding at the papers he held. "Seems
pretty clear to me."

Gil took off his glasses, staring at her. "Sara, you sure you want to do this? You told me you were sick of California. I thought you liked it here."

"I did. But I got a great offer, and I'm taking it." She shrugged,
somehow managing to not-look at him while looking at him. "It's a good
job. Pay's better. Upward mobility."

"I can get you more money if that's what you want. That's not a
problem. Name it."

She bit her lip. "I've made up my mind, Grissom. I'm sorry to spring it
on you. Kind of just fell in my lap."

"She didn't take it too well," Catherine told him later.

"Take what well?" he asked blankly.

"Oh, come on, don't be obtuse. Think about it."

He thought. "Nick?"

"Got it."

"But --"

"Not like it's a surprise, you know. She's been crazy about you since she took your class, years ago." Catherine smiled gently. "You didn't think she came out here for the gambling, did you?"

He sat very still, absolutely thunderstruck. "She's a colleague," he said helplessly. "I never -- I don't --"

"She'll be okay. But you better just be cool, okay? Let her do what she
needs to do. I mean, if you're asking my advice, which I strongly suspect you are."

He nodded slowly.

"She's young, and she's been kind of alone for a long time, Gil. She had her hat set on you. Maybe it's not fair to you to say it so bluntly, but that's life. Now, with you and Nick -- She's hurt. She'll be okay."

It didn't make it any easier to live with.

And then -- the memo, Eckley's poisonous little blurb about Nick's rapid promotion last year and the long trip.... Gil just wanted to take another vacation. A really, really long one this time, and farther away than Canada. Maybe Tibet.

He came home that night wary, already dreading what he'd find. Wouldn't
surprise him if this had Nick on the run. Gil already felt like running, and he hadn't endured what Nick evidently had. Who'd blame him?

But then there he was, dozing on the couch with a Stephen King book open on his lap and ESPN on the tv, and Gil couldn't help smiling with sheer relief, and a surge of emotion that made it hard to breathe.

He sat down by Nick's feet and put them on his lap, massaging until Nick opened his eyes.

"Hi."

"That kinda tickles." Nick yawned. "How was it?" he asked, pushing his
toes under Gil's thigh.

"The usual. Kind of a slow night for once."

Nick nodded sleepily. "I guess I should ask if I still have a job."

"You still have a job. You have to see the chief tomorrow. Take your lumps."

"I can do that." Nick smiled lazily at him. "Believe me, it was worth
it. The look on his face...."

Gil chuckled, leaning back. "He's a prick, I know. Believe me. Warrick
didn't stop talking about it all night. I think you really impressed him."

"My hand hurts like hell."

That made Gil laugh out loud.

Later, in the dark, Nick stirred. "I'm sorry about Sara," he murmured,
breath warm against Gil's neck. "Why's she leaving? Heard she got a good offer."

"I heard that, too," Gil agreed. He let his fingers keep caressing Nick's back, smiling to himself at Nick's answering sigh. "Things change. Look at us."

"Yeah. Who'd a thunk it."

"Took me by surprise."

"Could you get somebody to paint my locker the right color?"

Gil grinned. "Consider it done."

"And I been thinking about that oogly thing."

"You have, have you?"

"Pretty good word, if you think about it. Stupid, but kind of how I
feel. Around you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

Gil tilted Nick's chin up so that their eyes met in the dimness. "And what does oogly feel like, exactly?"

Nick didn't smile. With a little catch in his voice, he managed, "I'm
kinda crazy about you."

Gil nodded slowly, chest tight. "Well, I'm pretty crazy about you, too,
you know."

Lifting himself up on one elbow, Nick leaned in to kiss him. "Which is to say," he continued, still unsmiling, "I -- I love you."

For a moment Gil forgot to breathe. Remembering: I've never been in
love. And he hadn't, ever. Not in more than forty years.

"I love you, too."


END