Outburst -- CSI DOWN POST-EP

[karachilovaa14.livejournal.com]

Title: Outburst
Summary: Nick sees Greg's outburst in the interrogation room, and is jealous and upset. Is Greg attracted to Morgan? Nick really can't say-but Nick's questioning hurts Greg, and both men reach their limit.
Spoilers: Grave Danger, CSI Down, Living Doll
Rating: PG-13 

x-----x-----x-----x

"What was that about?" Nick exclaimed, following Greg into the locker room. He closed the door behind him.

Greg pressed his forehead against his locker, and took a deep breath. He curled his hands into fists and glared at Nick sideways. "That bitch is going to get them killed!"

"No, she's not!" Nick ground out from between clenched teeth. "Have a little faith man! We're going to get her back. Morgan'll be fine."

"How can you of all people say that?" Greg seethed, turning to Nick and breathing hard. "You know just how screwed up—"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Greg!" Nick burst out, getting irritated. "We didn't turn out so bad, did we?"

"Nice to know you'd want to inflict that pain on someone else," Greg spat. He realized how hurtful and untrue his words were, but he was too proud to take them back.

Nick's jaw tightened. "Just take a break, man," he said spitefully. "You're stressed out, and you're losing it. Bite my head off, will you?"

"'Cause I'm the only one who's ever lost it at work, huh?" Greg's voice was strained, and Nick was beginning to worry. "What about you? When was the last time you settled anything calmly?"

"And when was the last time you didn't?" Nick lowered his voice significantly, concern shrouding irritation. "What had gotten into you?"

"Nothing," Greg spat out. "I'm perfectly fine, and I don't need your fucking disapproval. Just leave me alone," he tried to shoulder his way past Nick, but the older man grabbed his wrist tightly.

"Stop acting so defensive," Nick spoke as if to an armed suspect, his voice purposely low and calming. "I'm not fighting you, Greg. I'm worried about you. I've never seen you like this before. What's going on?"

"Look, man," Greg said coldly. "I think it's natural to be emotionally invested in this case! She's my friend."

"So was Sara. And I've never seen anyone more composed that you when she was kidnapped."

"Look, that was different—"

"How?"

"I... She," Greg stumbled over his words, angry and embarrassed. "Stop interrogating me, Stokes!"

"Well, Sanders, what about me?" Nick was getting riled up again. "If Warrick's word is anything to go by, you were perfectly composed when I was buried under the fucking ground!"

"Don't bring that into this!"

"Why the hell not? I'm your fucking boyfriend! You'd think that'd warrant some kind of reaction!"

"What the fuck do you know?" Greg shouted his voice cracking. "You weren't even there!"

"Well, nothing like this ever happened! Or you'd think I'd have heard about it!"

"Well, you never asked me, did you?" Greg said desperately upset. "You never asked me what went down while you were underground!"

"Well, I'm asking now."

Greg shook his head. "I can't do this right now." He took a deep breath, trying to push past Nick again. "I've got work to do. We have to find her."

"Tell me one thing: why does she matter more? After seven years together, how can this tear you up more than what happened to me?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Nick," Greg said with his back turned. "You've got it all wrong."

"Sure doesn't look that way. Just answer the question."

"Drop it, Nick."

"No. Answer the fucking question."

"Because it wasn't my fault!" Greg finally burst out, turning to face Nick. "When you went missing, it wasn't my fault. But if something happens to Morgan... I-I couldn't live with that."

For a moment they were both silent, the weight of Greg's words hitting them both hard. Then Nick spoke almost inaudibly.

"But if something happened to me, you could live with that?"

"N-Nick, that's not what I said," Greg was shaking from nerves and exhaustion.

"Yes, you did."

Greg closed his eyes. "I'm tired, Nicky. And you wouldn't fucking leave it be. I don't know what I was saying."

Without warning, Greg felt pain crash through his cheek. Before he even knew what had happened, he brought his own fist up in retaliation, striking Nick's cheek hard and staining his knuckles with blood. He raised his hand to strike again, but Nick grabbed his fist, twisting his arm behind his back and pushing him across the locker room. He tripped over the bench, landing on the floor and hitting his head on the locker hard.

Nick climbed over the bench, furious and upset. He grabbed the collar of Greg's shirt, about to hit him again. The look on Greg's face made him lower his fist, though: Greg's eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw tense.

Greg's hand came up to the back of his head immediately. His hand felt hot and sticky, and he knew it was blood before he even saw it. The sight of it made him sick with fury, and he curled his hand into a fist, ready to punch Nick again.

But Nick had had enough; he realized they had let their exhaustion and stress get to them. He grabbed Greg's wrist, deflecting the blow and dropping Greg's hand like it was poisoned.

He stood, not meeting Greg's gazed. He was ashamed, but still too angry to apologize.

"That's enough, Greg," he said gruffly, turning around and walking out of the room.

x-----x-----x-----x-----x

Greg clenched his teeth, tightening his hands on the wheel of his car, and tried to focus on just driving. To Morgan. Oh God, they had to move faster than this.

His head throbbed; he couldn't think straight, let alone drive. He had taken a look at the wound on his head in his locker-mirror, and it didn't look bad enough for stitches, or to cause a concussion. But it hurt like hell.

He had washed his head half-heartedly, as it had hurt too much to be thorough, and parts of his hair were still stained red. He didn't think anyone would notice though. He figured Nick was worse off; how would he hide that nasty cut on his face? The thought made Greg feel guilty, and he tried to keep his mind off it.

He jumped when he heard the gunshots, irrationally afraid, even though he knew that Brass and the other officers were the ones shooting. He watched as the suspects dropped to the ground, bleeding or dead. He felt sick and hard inside.

As soon as he was given the clear from Brass, he leapt out of the car, running up to the scene in time to see Brass lead Morgan out of the building. She looked dirty and stunned. Even though Greg could see she was bleeding from the forehead, he asked dumbly. "Morgan, are you hurt?"

"You still owe me one."

He turned around, stunned. He watched as Morgan and Ecklie embraced, and Russell led her away from the scene. She was shaken up, and Greg's heart ached for her. He knew what she was going through, and he wanted to help. But he was tired and confused, and he figured she just needed space.

Once again, he was left feeling helpless and exhausted.

He wanted to go home and sleep, but home meant Nick, and he wasn't ready for that yet. With a sigh, he went to the car and grabbed his kit, beginning to process the scene. Though they knew who had done it, and everything was over, for formalities sake, someone still had to collect the evidence. Greg knew they could probably just call in day shift to do it for them, but he'd rather do it himself. Work provided an excuse to not go home.

He worked from outside in. Forty-five minutes later, he was exhausted and sweaty, and was about to start processing the helicopter. The sight of the paramedic and pilot lying charred and bleeding on the floor made his stomach turn, and he suddenly felt stupid for doing this to himself.

Just then, his phone rang.

"Sanders," he answered tiredly.

"Greg," he heard Russell's voice through the phone. Greg felt oddly comforted. "I just left Morgan's. She's shaken up but she should be okay. Go see her in the morning."

"Hmmm..." Greg hummed tiredly. "Okay."

"Are you on your way home?" Russell asked, hearing the sound of a car in the background.

"Actually," said Greg quietly, watching one of the police cars pull away, "I'm still at the old theme park."

"Well, why is that?"

"I'm processing the scene," Greg said, sighing irritably.

"On your own?"

"Yes."

"I'll send Nick over. But he won't be happy-"

"Not Nick!" Greg said frantically, wincing at his tone.

"Okay," Russell said dryly. "Sara, then."

Greg closed his eyes, and sighed. Sara would know something was wrong, Sara would ask too many questions.

"Actually," Greg swallowed back unexpected tears. "Would you mind coming down here yourself? I..." Working with Russell calmed him down; his supervisor knew what to say, how to say it; he was comforting but didn't pry.

But, fuck, what was Greg thinking? Russell had a family to get home to. "Russell, I'm sorry. Forget I asked. I—"

"Go home, Greg."

"I'm fine."

"That's an order."

x-----x-----x-----x-----x

Nick walked out of the shower to find Greg sitting on the couch, legs pulled up to his chest, and his head resting on his knees.

"How's Morgan?" Nick winced at the empty sound of his voice.

"Fine," Greg's voice was rough with exhaustion. "She's upset, but not hurt."

Nick paused, feeling guilty and ashamed, but unsure of what to say. "Greg, I—"

"I'm sorry," Greg interrupted him without lifting his head; he sounded gravelly and close to tears. "I don't know what came over me. I just—I couldn't stand to face that guilt again. Demetrius James was bad enough."

Nick sat next to Greg on the sofa, placing his hand on the younger man's back. For once, he felt incapable of consoling Greg. "Are you attracted to her?" Nick asked quietly, his voice meek, hesitant.

Greg stiffed and sat up all of a sudden. "What? Of course not," he said indignantly. He paused, then grasped Nick's hand gingerly. "Nick... after all these years, how can you think that I could love someone more than I love you?"

Nick said nothing, meeting Greg's gaze evenly.

Greg sighed. "She's enthusiastic, Nick, and young and refreshing," Greg dared a glance at Nick. "Like I used to be... except, she's not. She's not naive, and... it's like she's got this... way of protecting herself from everything that could make her jaded and scarred—and... I just don't want to see that slip away."

Greg looked up at Nick with questioning eyes. The older man pressed his lips to Greg's, putting Greg's fear to rest.

"I'm sorry," Nick pulled away, tears gathering in his eyes, and slipping down his cheeks. "What I said about my kidnapping... that was outta' line. I—Oh, Greg..."

Greg smiled weakly, fingering the shallow cut on Nick's cheek. "I guess we never really talked about it, huh?" He took a deep breath. "With Morgan, I was angry. And helpless. But when you went missing... My God, I was too scared to even function. But I had something to prove, Nicky: that I could keep it together. I was the newbie, and the rest of the team had no fucking idea about us. I wasn't about to tell them without even asking you.

"And when... God, when you're parents showed up... I..." Greg trailed off. "I guess I just didn't want to have to meet them that way."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Nick said quietly.

Greg laughed humourously. "You had been through enough without me adding to your misery, and..."

"And what?"

"It was the gun that scared me," Greg cupped Nick's face in his hand. "Watching you hold it under your chin, knowing that... that I couldn't stop you," Greg cleared his throat, and tried to brush it off. "Well, it doesn't matter now, Nicky. I just hate talking about it as much as you do."

"I'm sorry, Greg. I'm sorry I put you through that."

"You didn't put me through that, Nick. And... look I understand now, that whatever happened down there, it wasn't about me. And for a long time, I wanted it to be. I wanted you to think of me, and put down the fucking gun, but it couldn't have happened that way. It couldn't possibly have been about me, and... well, I'm sorry for being a selfish bastard, Nicky."

Nick sighed. "I'm sick of being screwed up by bad people, Greg."

"I know," said the younger man quietly. He kissed Nick fervently, pushing him down so the older man was lying down on the couch.

"You're exhausted," Nick said, holding Greg's face in his. The younger man ground against him weakly and Nick realized before he did that he was too tired to be aroused anyway. "You need to sleep." He sniffed and made a face. "And you kinda smell."

Greg laughed tiredly, and got up off of Nick. "I'm gonna take a quick shower. See you in bed."

Nick smiled, trailing his fingers along Greg's hip as he passed by. "Love ya, man."

Greg smiled tiredly, exhausted, stressed out, but oddly relieved. "Love you too."