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[just1tearforme.livejournal.com]

Nerd Gone Wild
Chapter 9: When It Rained
PG, 2340 words
A/N: Sorry this took so damn long but moving is a total b*tch, still w/o the net and driving four miles to Feylynn's use her net. Also thanks to shacky20 for leaving me sanity saving messages through out the last week and a half. You my friend rock, so therefor this chapter is for you. :)

Previous Chapter: Chapter Eight

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Chapter 9: When It Rained

“Hey, hey, hey,” Nick murmured, his voice low. Gently he stroked Greg’s shoulder, touching him carefully, trying to break through the anguished cries that tumbled from his lips. His clothes were quickly becoming soaked, but he didn’t really care. He had heard the wailed cries from down below and came running.  He used the keys that he had made after that night, the one he desperately wished to forget but couldn’t push from his mind. He sighed heavily, focusing back on Greg. His touch had managed to weave through the tears and register in his grief-stricken mind; he clung to his arm like a drowning man to a life ring. His fingers dug into his forearm, he could feel each individual nail as it pressed crescent indentations into his flesh. He pulled Greg towards him, wrapping his other arm around him and pulling him to his chest. He leaned back against the sliding door, holding him tightly as he buried his face into his shirt and cried piteously. He wound his shirt in his clenched hands tightly as he sobbed for all the world, Nick could do naught but embrace him more closely and hold him fast, his head tucked just beneath his chin. He whispered nonsense words and soothing sounds, closing his eyes lest his own tears begin to fall.

Greg seemed so fragile in his arms, like a china doll. His heart bled for him in this pain. He had seen many people fall apart in his line of work, but none ripped him to the core like this. It was as though he bled for all the world to see, his sorrow palatable. If it were visible, he would see it dripping from the eaves and oozing over every surface until everything was drenched in it. He felt as though Greg was shattered in his grief and he was vainly attempting to hold all the pieces together. The sadness of it all threatened to overwhelm him; he didn’t want Greg to feel this at all. Sniffling, he clutched him tighter, letting himself get lost in the incessant patter of raindrops.

It was to be his night off, but after witnessing the events at lunch he opted to check in on his friend after a nap. Right now, he was applauding his decision. Who knew how long Greg had been out there sobbing for all he was worth? With the few tears he had shed at the news of his friend’s passing, Nick figured that some comfort was in order but this… this was beyond what he had imagined. So he sat in the drenching rain, holding a man desperately clutching at him, letting his grief pour out like water from a faucet.

The chill of the rain was beginning to seep in, crawling over him like tendrils of fog. He was fully clothed; Greg must have been feeling the chill long before. But he couldn’t differentiate between the sobs that wracked his body and the shivers of being too cold. “Greg, look at me.” He whispered, rubbing his hands over cool skin. “We need to go inside and get warmed up.” He squeezed him slightly, pressing his body to him, trying to pass along some of the heat that he held. “We’ll get up and go inside okay? We’re going to get sick sitting out here. But we need to stand up first. Can you do that for me?” He pushed him back a bit and adjusted his position so he could rise easily, but Greg made no motions of his own save to let his head drop to his chest. He inhaled deeply, breathing out slowly, this was going to be a bit more difficult than he thought. “Okay then,” he said. “I’m going to get up and then I’ll pull you up on the count of three alright?” He knew by now that his questions were mainly rhetorical; they at least provided some illusion of cognizance between the both of them.

Slowly Nick rose from his position on the floor, feeling his spine crack silently in response to the more normal posture it resumed. Grasping Greg’s wrists tightly, “One… Two… Three…” he counted off. With some effort he managed to get him to his feet, but he slumped against him, his mind obviously closed off to anything beyond his grief. With Greg little more than dead weight, he weighed his options, he could carry him or he could carry him. There wasn’t really another option that he could consider, or would consider. The quote “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.” surfaced in his mind. One more burden he could bear, it would be no problem he had borne heavier weights before, and he could manage this one. Bending his knees, he caught him behind his knees and back, lifting him in one sweep. Carefully he sidestepped through the patio door and carried him down the hall as he still cried rivers of tears.

As he set him gently on the toilet lid he could feel the chill that emanated from his skin, little goosebumps created small ridges on his flesh. He head had dropped to his chest again, and he appeared so small like he was trying to fold in on himself and become lost to the world. Nick bit his lip, worrying the skin nervously before turning to the shower. He knelt on the bathmat reaching over to turn the taps on, adjusting the water until it was just the right temperature, not too hot and not too cold. Once it didn’t seem like it would scald or freeze he switched so the flow poured out from the showerhead, letting the warmth of the water create some steam and begin to fill the bathroom. He opened the cabinets, retrieving two fluffy purple towels and a washcloth. Setting the towels next to the tub, he removed his shoes and socks placing them beside the toilet and then pulled off his shirt, folding and laying it over his shoes. He searched the cupboards beneath the sink, shuffling bottles, bowls, and things until he discovered a small pitcher. That he also set beside the tub. He turned to him, resting a hand beneath his chin and lifting it slightly. He wanted to say something, but everything that came to mind seemed so trite and vapid, so he settled for the tiniest of smiles instead.

Very slowly he brought his hands to the waistband of his jeans, fingertips sliding just beneath the waistband as he undid the button. He drew the zipper down exposing his skin to the warm air. He rose, standing and wrapped an arm around him, just beneath his arms and pulled him to his feet. Using his free hand he worked the denims over his hips so they fell to his knees. He turned them so he could lower Greg to the edge of the bathtub. He sank to his knees on the bathmat, sliding the jeans completely off and tucking them next to his discarded things. With great care he maneuvered him into the tub beneath the spray, letting the warmth flow over him and begin to soak into his skin. He turned his attention to the collection of bottles that gathered along the side of the tub, there were multiples of everything, but he was certain that Greg could tell him what precisely their differences were. He ran his fingers over the labels of each one, stopping on a brown glass bottle that looked like it had come from one of those old apothecary shops. The label’s script declared it lavender and sandalwood, he recalled his sisters having a bottle or two of lavender lotion, the scent was supposed to be calming. Opening the lid, he poured a dollop of the soap onto the washcloth rubbing the terrycloth together to suds up. With delicate touch he washed one arm and then the other, the flesh turning a healthy pink beneath his ministrations. He added more soap; wiping the cloth over his back, paying attention to the hairless scars that graced his shoulder and spine between his shoulder blades, and the patches that also trailed over the back of his neck. He let the washrag fall into the tub as he brushed his fingertips over the slightly rippled flesh. He wondered if they still hurt sometimes, and if he could detect the faint touch.

Gently the washcloth was trailed over his chest, torso, tracing every contour there. He rinsed the cloth well, putting only a tiny puddle of soap on the terry. His fingers followed the curve of his jaw to his chin, lifting it, guiding his face from beneath the spray. With his thumb he wiped away a tear that stole down his cheek. Carefully he brought the washrag up, wiping the oil and tear tracks away. He didn’t know what possessed him, but he kissed his eyelids, barely brushing his lips over them. A tear slipped down his cheek, which he brushed aside and resumed his bathing ritual. He washed the rest of his body with due care, making certain each inch of flesh was scrubbed. Draping the washcloth over the side of the tub, he tilted Greg’s head back, removing the plastic cap covering his hair. Reaching for the pitcher, he deftly switched the water from the showerhead to the tub faucet. He poured the water over his head, watching as vibrant red and purple sluiced down the drain. He continued rinsing his hair until the water became clear. Leaning across his chest, he reached for the flower printed bottle of shampoo. He flipped the top, squeezing out a dollop onto his wet hair. His hair was soft as he sank his fingers into it, working the shampoo into the strands, massaging it into his scalp. The suds turned a light pink and lavender, as he worked his fingers all over his head. He took the refilled pitcher, carefully using his other hand to shield his eyes, and rinsed the shampoo away. The process repeated several times until all he could see was watered darkened strands. He retrieved a conditioner bottle, pouring a generous amount into his cupped hand to warm. Once it no longer was chilled, he rubbed his hand together and then worked the cream into his hair. He felt the soft hair absorb the conditioner and become silkier than he thought his hair would ever be. Reluctantly he withdrew his hands to lightly rinse the conditioner out.

After he turned the taps off, Nick let his gaze wander over him. His bruises were healing, they were only yellow green in colour now, his cuts had long since lost their scabs and new skin was in their place. Greg’s sobs had also ceased, only some stray tears that escaped at random remained. Grasping him beneath his armpits he lifted him up to the edge of the tub. He maneuvered him around so his feet were out and resting on the bathmat, then carefully lifted him to standing. His eyes appeared a little more focused, not so clouded with tears any longer. He managed to remain upright, though unsteady as he reached for the towels. One of the large bath sheets was wound like a turban around his head; the other he rubbed vigorously over each inch of skin letting the cotton wick away every bit of moisture. He took his time, drying each arm down to the individual fingers, across his chest and torso, on back but patting the scars gently instead. He wiped the towel across his hips, over a tattoo he would ask about another time, down his legs, and over his feet with the long toes. Rising, he wrapped the towel around his waist, tucking the end under. He touched his shoulders, guiding him to sit on the toilet lid. He unwound the towel from his head, rubbing his scalp and drawing out the excess water. Once he was no longer dripping he let the towel fall to the floor. He drew him up to standing, unwrapping the damp terry from his hips. As before, he picked him up, cradling him to his chest.

He carried him down the hall to his bedroom. He flipped the light switch letting the room become bathed in the twilight shades. He lowered him to the unmade bed, pulling the sheets up to his waist. Greg sighed, as he walked out the door. He returned to the bathroom, picking up the towels and draping them over the shower curtain rod to dry. Turning out the light, he padded down the hall, switching off the stereo in the living room. He locked the door, and wandered to the patio door, sliding it closed and locking it too. Reentering his bedroom, he checked and set the alarm, there were a few hours before Greg’s shift started. He padded to the bed, slipping between the sheets on the other side. He was curled in fetal position, as small as humanly possible. Carefully he snaked an arm between his body and the mattress, wrapping across his stomach and pulled him to him. He relaxed his body, leaning back against him. He rested his hand on his hip, and wrapped his other arm across his chest, fingertips to his shoulder and held him tightly. He remained motionless until his breathing evened out, then pressed a soft kiss to the scarred shoulder and laid his head down, cheek to the curve of his neck. Pulling him tighter to him, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Loud ringing echoed in his ears. A warm body, Greg’s body, still wrapped in his embrace next to him. He was asleep, impervious to the obnoxious sound, snoring softly. Unwrapping his arm from the sleeping form, he fished in his pocket pulling out his cell phone. “Stokes.” He said softly.

“Nick, it’s Grissom. Will you come in? We’ve closed the warehouse case and I want everyone here before the press conference goes up…”

Comments

[fred-bear.livejournal.com]

Oh god, I love you so much right now for posting this. So tender, so painful and so beautiful. Thank you

[shacky20.livejournal.com]

Wow, I didn't except that, and you are so welcome. I am at my sister's now, and checked here briefly for anything new and was so excited to see a new chapter, I was beginning to worry, I love this fic, so as soon as mom and kiddies are asleep I'll be back reading.

[shacky20.livejournal.com]

Wow, how powerful, without any words almost, the pure act of love and unselfishness of Nick's actions speak louder than any words, and poor Greg, falling deeper and deeper, at least now Nick is there noticing, trying to help reach that place he's in. So glad to see your back posting, and tell them to get your damn internet back up cause we need more. I just wish I was home so I could print it out and put it in my book. Just loved this chapter, the tenderness and care, that says so much more than any sex scene could, beautiful job as usual, and hopefully Greg will find his way out soon with Nicky's help, cannot wait for more, and my pleasure, sometimes the best way to stay sane is helping other's stay sane. Hope all is going better with the move and you are getting settled in, and not just for selfish reasons, movings a bitch. But just wow, what a chapter, Nick's love shone through and it almost hurt, imagining Nick carrying around a weighless lifeless Greg and warming him, bathing him, now that's love. Can't wait for more. Take care.

[thefieldmouse.livejournal.com]

Wow. I love this so much. It's so sad and touching.

[luckytubesocks.livejournal.com]

wow, those were really good. do you think you could give me the links for the first seven?

I have the links

[shacky20.livejournal.com]

Hey, I actually have it on my sight, I loved this story, so much I rec'd it there, so you can find them "Nerd Gone Wild" at Shacky20 LJ (http://www.livejournal.com/users/shacky20/9200.html#cutid1) I rec'd it one day cause I loved it so much, there is a link to Chapter 7 there, then a separate link to Chapter 6, where you can also find the links for 1-5, I so love this story, I don't think enough people will read it because it's dark Greg and angsty, but I find it so believable and heart wrechingly good, I can't recommned it enough, hope that helps

[squara.livejournal.com]

gah, it is a great day for my tear ducts. They are gettting plenty of exercise. I love this fic so much. Glad you got all moved and are back.

[pknight.livejournal.com]

This is terrible, torturous, awful and depressing. The whole thing, all nine chapters.

...Pleeeeease can we have more? Please?