Nerd Gone Wild
Chapter 6: Return to Yourself
PG, 1850 words
100% previously disclaimed
Previous Chapters:
One Two Three Four Five
Chapter 6: Return to Yourself
“You know when I said let’s celebrate you heading back to
the job this wasn’t quite what I had in mind. I was thinking something a little
more adult.” Nick smiled as he reflected on last night. When he had suggested
the celebration he was thinking along the lines of catching a game at one of
the local sports bars, maybe going to a gentleman’s club. Greg had other ideas
and everything ready by the time he got there. He had to have raided the entire
candy section of the corner store, bags of Snickers, Starburst, Pixie Sticks,
and other multi-coloured confections littered the coffee table, each one so
full of sugar it made his teeth hurt just thinking about it. His refrigerator
was stocked full of pop, beer, and brightly hued drinks that smelled
suspiciously like Kool-Aid with twice the recommended amount of sugar. Back in
the living room several DVD cases were stacked next to the TV.
Greg had seemed a little despondent when he arrived, but
within minutes had perked up. As the hours flew by, he became more and more
animated, mostly likely due to the vast quantities of sugar he consumed. He
didn’t intend on staying for all the movies, but somehow it just happened. By
the end of the night, he too had multiple flavours of Kool-Aid gracing his
upper lip. They had ended up watching four films all together: Lemony
Snicket’s: A Series of Unfortunate Events, Toy Story, Spirited Away, and Peter
Pan. He knew of the first two, he did have nieces and nephews, but not of the
third, and the fourth was a complete shock, he didn’t know that a remake had
been done to that classic. He found himself wanting to see the other works of
Hayao Miyazake after Spirited Away. It was rare that a children’s movie enticed
him to find more by the director. But most surprising was how he had really
gotten into Peter Pan with Greg. He laughed with him at Tink’s miming to the
Lost Boys, sighed wistfully when the fairies danced in the forest, even mock
battled like Peter and Captain Hook. But he found himself holding Greg’s hand;
fingers laced tightly together repeating “I do believe in fairies! I do! I do!”
along with Peter as he tried to bring Tink back to life. He squeezed his hand
as they cheered.
Afterwards Greg talked of wanting to fly, and not wanting to
grow up sometimes. Nick replied that he understood; there were some days he
didn’t want to be a grown up either.
He passed Greg in the lab; Grissom had assigned him there
for the first two days back. He was happily pouring the contents of a Pixie
Stick into a bottle of Mountain Dew. “You offend reason sir,” Nick said,
leaning against the doorframe. Greg jumped, spilling the last of the stick on
his hand. He smirked, and then licked the back of his hand happily. “The fact
you’re having more sugar after the pounds you imbibed last night astounds me.”
He laughed, “Well, I’m done for the night. I just wanted to say hey, before I
left. I’m off to get some sleep.” Greg grinned wickedly. “It seems that
ingesting vast amounts of sugar is not conducive to sleeping.” He smiled back,
shaking his head. “Have a good night.”
Nick was turning onto Greg’s street before he even realized
it. He laughed to himself. He had obviously not been spending enough time at
home if his instinct was to head to that crazy apartment. As he drove home, to
his home, he thought about it. He had spent a lot of time at Greg’s, six of the
seven days Greg and been on leave. The one time he didn’t go was a result of
having to work overtime. Warrick went to see him instead. That night he hadn’t
slept well either, he kept seeing Greg being buried, but in the Plexiglas
casket he had been put in, only this time he was truly dead. He had woken up so
suddenly he was certain he was still dreaming. Also, he had been half tempted
to call Greg, just to hear his voice and assure himself that he was alive.
These dreams troubled him, survivor’s guilt or so a
psychologist would say. He felt guilty about what happened to Greg. Even though
he couldn’t have done anything different, it gnawed at him, like he could have
done something to protect him. It had to do with being buried alive; his
friends worked to save him so he felt some need to reciprocate. At least that’s
what the psychology books said, if he chose to believe them. Personally, the
sight of Greg lying there made him sad. If something bad had to happen, let it
happen to him. He could bear it. Greg, Greg felt too much, but that made him
beautiful. Sure, he had his weird quirks, the girl with the fine epithelials
came to mind, but he really cared about everyone and everything. That’s why he
went to see him. If he stopped caring, then there really was no hope for
anyone.
And Nick liked him. How could anyone not? He was funny, and
snarky, and childish, and serious, and everything anyone could want to be and
more. He knew how to let go and be a child, reveling in the simple things that
adults tended forget about. Yet he also knew how to be completely grown up,
responsible and serious, focusing on whatever task was at hand until he got it
done. He was the most human being. And when he smiled, it was the most genuine
thing…
The alarm beeped loudly, piercing through his sleep. He
stuck an arm out from beneath the sheets, hand searching along the night table
till he found the offending object. He hit the off button, sending it to the
floor with a satisfying thud. Pulling his arm back beneath the sheets, he
pulled his pillow closer to him and let himself drift back off to sleep at
least until the alarm on his cell phone went off a half hour later.
Reluctantly, he dragged himself from the nice, soft, incredibly comfortable
mattress and into the shower. When he emerged from the steam filled bathroom he
contemplated calling Greg to see how his first night had been. He banished the
idea from his mind though when he thought about his first shift back. Everyone
and their brother asked him how he was doing, if he needed anything all he had
to do was ask, and how it felt being back after the incident. They had probably
done the same to Greg. He was willing to bet that Catherine stopped by
pretending to have forgotten something and checked up on him along with
numerous others including Ecklie, who, probably just wanted to make sure that he
was in no danger of blowing up the expensive lab. He would be annoyed, hell, he
was annoyed when they did it to him, and so there was no conceivable way that he
was going to do that Greg. Besides, he was probably sleeping by now anyways.
He shift dragged, the eight hours passing like days. There
weren’t even any interesting cases, sure they were still working on the
warehouse party, but everything else was a cakewalk in comparison. By the end
of hour seven he had resorted to playing FreeCell, and had a five game winning
streak. He was never so glad to see the hands of the clock point to quitting
time. Wordlessly, he put his things away in his locker, picking up his keys and
coffee mug. He hadn’t seen Greg come in, so he decided to wander the lab
looking for him. Archie was chatting with someone from swing that he didn’t
know very well. Hodges was pouring over some evidence, but no sign of Greg. His
heartbeat quickened a bit, he wondered where he could be. A quick peek in the
break room yielded no Greg either. Nervous, he headed over to Grissom’s office
only to find him on the phone. He lingered outside the doorway, waiting for him
to finish his conversation. But he beckoned him in first. Gil looked at him
quizzically. “Have you seen Greg?”
“Called off,” he replied, and went back to his conversation.
He called off? Nick’s
mind ran. Something must have happened last night. Did he have a flashback? Did
he hurt himself? Had all the overbearing but well meaning colleagues
overwhelmed him? Was it just too soon? His knuckles were white as he gripped
the steering wheel during the drive to Greg’s apartment. He had to force
himself to calm his breathing for he was dangerously close to hyperventilating.
The walk up the three flights of stairs seemed to take forever, his lungs burning
and calves aching by the time he made it to the top. He knocked loudly, leaning
against the doorframe to catch his breath. Greg didn’t answer, so he knocked
again louder this time. He stared at the wooden door, silently willing it to
open. No answer. Raising his fist, he pounded against the door, rattling the
doorknob with the force. “Greg?” he called out. “Greg, if you don’t answer the
door I’m going to break in!” He yelled, a ball of fear wrapping around his
throat and nestling in the curve of his spine.
Finally the door opened, half opened eyes staring back at
him. “Nick?” Greg said, confusion etched across his face. He opened the door
wider, reaching out towards him. “That you Nicky?” His eyes fluttered closed
for a second, and his hand made contact with his arm. “Warm.” He mumbled.
“It’s me Greg,” Nick replied. “You okay? Gris said you
called in.” His hand was creeping across his chest. He swayed; Nick caught him
before he fell over. “Whoa there buddy.” He wrapped an arm around his waist to
steady him. He could see an empty beer bottle and Greg’s painkillers on the
coffee table. And Greg was murmuring something about dancing llamas into his
shoulder. “Just how many did you take?” he asked the glassy-eyed man gently as
he lowered him to the couch.
“One. But di’int work. So took ‘nother.”
Nick counted one beer on the table and another two in the
trash. Greg was mumbling something, the words hurts and overdid it he heard
clearly though. Nick had to smile, he was out of his mind on pain killers and beer;
he must have over exerted himself yesterday and woke up in a world of hurt
today. He bit his bottom lip trying not to laugh as Greg told killer penguins
he wasn’t tasty. “Come on,” he said pulling him up from the couch. “Let’s put
you to bed.” He draped his arm around his waist, pulling him to his side lest
Greg should stumble and fall.
Barely able to keep his eyes open, Greg leaned against him,
rubbing his head on his shoulder. He looked up at him through long lashes and
smiled. “Pretty…”
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Date: 2005-06-15 02:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-15 02:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-15 02:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-15 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-15 03:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-15 04:12 am (UTC)X
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Date: 2005-06-15 04:26 am (UTC)waiting for chapert 7. thank god your already writing it. would cerimonial begging help to get it faster? *wink*
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Date: 2005-06-15 05:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-15 07:13 am (UTC)He bit his bottom lip trying not to laugh as Greg told killer penguins he wasn’t tasty. Cracked me up and wonderful change of pacing. And yes, tapping foot for the slashy stuff but also getting really concerned about Greg's drug problem. I know Nick will be there for him, right? Right?