Post-ep for Code Blue Plate Special -- PART TWO

[karachilovaa14.livejournal.com]

Nick crept into the bedroom after Sara left. He stood by the bed, gazing at Greg. The younger man lay on his side, with one leg bent. His arms were stretched out across the bed.

Nick was too exhausted to sleep. He sat at the desk in his room and read by lamplight, until he could hardly keep his eyes open. He gazed longingly at his bed; he's been thinking of sleeping on his couch, but the idea seemed so uninviting. With a certain amount of inexplicable trepidation, he slipped into bed next to Greg, and stared at the back of the younger man's head, at the white gauze, until sleep claimed him.

Nick awoke to an empty bed. His face was buried into a pillow that smelt oddly like Greg, and he realized he'd gravitated to Greg's side of the bed.

Nick stretched and stood, holding onto the bedpost for support. He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. He checked the time, and then went looking for Greg, wondering why he was up so early.

He found Greg seated at the kitchen counter, surrounded by the scent of coffee. Greg brought his mug to his lips, and raised his hand in greeting.

"Hey," Nick said, sliding into a stool opposite Greg. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Mhpph," Greg stared down at the tabletop. "You're not my mother."

Nick rolled his eyes, and stood. "Is there any coffee left?"

"Yeah, next to the sink."

Nick had already finished making his coffee, when without turning to face him, Greg muttered. "Sorry."

"S'okay," Nick said with a shrug. He sat down again and studied Greg. "I take it you're still not feeling too well?"

"I'm a little better," Greg said, though he still looked pale and clammy. "Just restless."

"Did you sleep okay?"

Greg looked him in the eye with indecipherable emotion. Nick swallowed and looked away.

"Yeah," Greg's voice was hoarse with emotion. He paused and took a deep, audible breath. "I really did," he said, sounding more normal.

Nick stared at Greg's hands, which were wrapped around his mug. They were strange and elegant, and Nick had a sudden, odd desire to know exactly what Greg had been thinking when he woke up next to Nick.

"So uh," Greg rubbed at his temples, "Any news on the case?"

"I talked to Sara last night; she's got a potential suspect, a Ronald Basderic. He's the guy who was stalking Edie. Chances are he's the same man who attacked you."

Greg closed his eyes. "It's hard to wrap your head around it, isn't it? So much carnage in one day."

"Are you sure you're okay, Greg?"

"I don't know… do you want my statement now?"

Nick got a notebook, pen and recorder from his CSI kit. He turned on the record button, and told Greg to start.

"When I went into the walk in, I noticed the door slipped shut on its own. I propped it open with some kind of case, but it slipped shut just a minute or so after I started processing.

"I tried calling someone, but there was no signal, so I figured I'd just finish processing the scene first.

Greg tried his phone again, but wasn't surprised when he still didn't get a signal. He had already processed the walk-in, and so there was nothing more for him to do except wait to be found. But he was starting to feel cold. He rolled down his sleeves, and pulled the cuffs down to cover half his palms. He curled his fingers around the soft fabric, and rubbed his face vigourously. Accepting that the thin cotton would not help much in warming him up, he began to search along the walls for the thermostat.

He searched the whole room twice, but couldn't find it. He was really starting to get cold now. He'd been in the walk-in for almost an hour. He gritted his teeth to keep them from chattering, and leant his forehead against the wall, eyes closed.

He stood there, mind blank, partly glad for the brief respite after the hectic time he'd had at the crime scene. Some minutes later, he heard shuffling behind him and froze.

His heart leapt into his throat, and even as he tried to convince himself it was just his imagination, he knew that wasn't the case. He grabbed a bottle off the shelf in front of him, and turned around quickly. He saw a flash of black across his vision—the assailant's clothes, or face, or weapon, he couldn't be sure—and then, before he could strike with the bottle, something hit him hard across the face.

His whole body jerked sharply to the right, and he stumbled, trying to regain his balance. A foot hit the small of his back and he tumbled forwards. His temple hit the corner of the shelf and a sharp pain flashed through him, as he fell to the floor. He registered something warm and hot on his face. He tried to flip over onto his back, but his vision was swimming. He kicked his legs out behind him, feeling his foot connect with something soft and fleshy. He had lifted himself onto his hands and knees when he was hit on the back of the head again, hard. Before he could react, the weapon came down again, and his vision faded to black.

Greg shrugged. "Sorry; that's all I remember."

Nick nodded and frowned. It wasn't much but it would have to do. "I noticed a bruise on your back last night. If he kicked you, I might be able to get a shoe impression off of it."

Greg nodded. "Sure."

Nick bit his lip and looked over his notes again. All of a sudden something dawned on him. "Wait," he said. "You said you couldn't get a signal, right?"

"Yeah," Greg said. He recognized the gleam in Nick's eyes. "What it is?"

"Vincent said he called the cops from inside the walk-in."

"So you're saying he wasn't really in there?" Greg asked. After a moment, his words sank in, and he looked horrified. "No," he whispered. "Not Vince."

Nick shrugged helplessly. He didn't much like the thought either.

"But, but you were talking to him when I was attacked. He has an alibi," Greg argued.

"Maybe he had an accomplice," Nick theorized.

"Or maybe he just managed to get a signal."

"I don't know, G. It's worth checking out isn't it?"

Greg shook his head regretfully. "You better call Sara then and tell her."

Nick nodded and took out his phone. Before he dialed he looked up at Greg again. "Are you really okay? I mean… yesterday was… terrifying."

"Yeah," Greg admitted, though he wouldn't look Nick in the eye. "It really was."

"I wish you'd look at me."

"I can't."

What could Nick say to that? He was about to make the call to Sara when Greg spoke up again.

"What would I have done if you'd quit me?" Greg said with a wry smile.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nick asked, feeling defensive though he couldn't say why.

"I mean… if you'd really up and quit last week, who'd have saved me today."

"I didn't… Greg, I didn't save you today. I just…" Nick shook his head, and clenched his fists. "Look at me Greg."

Greg looked at him with deep, frightening eyes. Nick somehow found the strength to speak. "I wasn't quittin' you, G. Even if I—I was never quittin' you."

Greg shook his head. "Isn't it just about the same thing?"

Nick didn't reply; how could he to that accusation?

Greg laughed hoarsely. "What's it going to take for us to find each other, Nicky?" He sounded close to tears.

"Greg!" Nick couldn't stand it.

"How many times do we have to try and get ourselves killed before we've finally found each other?"

Nick stood, keyed up and tired. He slammed his palms against the counter. "I did, Greg! I found you! I fucking found you in a pool of your own blood."

"That's not what I meant," Greg said, his calm attitude contrasted sharply with Nick's.

"I know," Nick muttered, as he sat down again. "I know," he breathed.

"You should call Sara, then," Greg said awkwardly.

"No, I shouldn't."

"You really should."

A long silence.

"Let me find you, Greg."

"Not today. Not with this headache."

"Greg!"

"I'm fucking doped, Nick! Why do you think I'm saying all this?" Greg spat. He groaned and held his head. "Fuck."

Nick shook his head. "You're hurting yourself."

Greg closed his eyes, and sighed loudly. "Don't patronize me."

Nick huffed. "I'm at a loss, Greg. What do you want from me?"

"Nothing. Not today. We've already waited thirteen years, and we're not going anywhere." Greg said.

"How can you say that?" Nick accused. "You were almost killed yesterday."

Greg slammed his mug onto the counter. Nick noticed he was shaking all over. "Don't you think I know that!" he spat.

He leapt up. The movement unbalanced him and he swayed. A moment later, Nick was standing next to him, supporting him with his hands on Greg's hips.

Greg swallowed nervously at their proximity. "You should call Sara."

Nick moved closer. "She can wait."

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

I like. Wish there was more =)

[randomslasher8.livejournal.com]

any more?