nickngreg | Ser Sucio, Chapter 9.

Author: Exit Music
Title: Ser Sucio, Chapter 9
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17 due to subject matter.
Warnings: violence of sorts.
Spoilers: contains elements from "Play With Fire" and "Overload."
Summary: AU, Ghosts of the past. Chapter nine of a WIP.
A/N: I do not own these characters, I merely worship them.

The numb tingling in his arm had finally become unbearable. Only able to sleep for brief periods, he resigned to holding Greg through the night; warm flesh failing to mollify fear. The dreams had played out onto walls, images sparked a living nightmare; a face reflected back horrific vibrancy. Shadows no longer bound, He could see Jeremy at the foot of the bed, blood-streaked and pale, pointing to the window. The boy mimicked his fright, leaping as he gestured excitedly at the street. Twisting away from under Greg’s shoulder, He batted away the ghost, peering over as he dressed. The neon of the diner's OPEN sign glared, to the right, Ma Bell advertised her services through layers of rust. Change rattled in his pocket as he dropped a shoe, waking Greg.

“Mmmm…morning.”

He smiled, clutching a half covered hand.

“I’m gonna run across the street, pick up some breakfast.” The mention of food perked Greg quickly, twiddling fingers.

“Goody, I need pancakes, flattened armadillo-sized pancakes. And lots of’em, yeah…smothered in syrup. Give me a minute, I’ll get dressed and come with.”

“That’s ok, I got it.”

“Are you sure, won’t take me a second?” Concern thinly veiled.

“I’m sure, be back in a few.” He kissed Greg’s brow, quietly closing the door as he left.

---

Dialing the outdoor payphone, his hands shook violently, nearly losing grip of the receiver. His legs poised on a nonexistent fault line, the pavement seemed to split beneath his feet. He was outside of the scene, watching fingers tap on silvered buttons; a head hung heavy, a shame he couldn’t describe.

“Switchboard, how can I help you?”

“Uh, yes ma’am. Can you connect me to the voicemail of a secretary there, name of Celia?”

“Connecting you now…” The seconds stretched out in front of him, pauses mocking. With a click of machinery, he felt faint.

“Hi, you’ve reached the desk of Celia Haney, I will be out of the office until Monday. Please leave a message, I’ll get back to ya as soon as possible, have a good day.”

Curbing a gag, he hung up, staring out into pale blue. Her voice hadn’t changed much, same octave, made richer with the progression of time. Poor little baby, you stop that shakin’ now… Looking down at his watch, Nick realized he had been standing there over thirty minutes.
---

“Well, I was just about to send out the search party!” Grabbing the bags from Nick, Greg settled, diving into Styrofoam containers.

“Sorry, morning rush.” He laced a hello kiss with maple syrup, smiling under Nick’s mouth. Darting a sugared tongue, he noticed the unnerving still that polluted the room.

“Nicky, you ok?” Looking down; white-knuckle quiver.

“What’s…” Nick recoiled, moving to the chair adjacent the window.

“Are you gonna have some?”

“Not hungry right now.” The tone had changed, dark growl under western softness. It was Sunday; the countdown had begun.

“I tried her work…” The random statement echoed through silence. Startled, he dropped his fork, translucent beads causing a controlled spatter.

“What?”

“I tried calling her work. Don’t know why.” Greg shook his head as he bent over, rubbing a napkin over the stains.

“Yes you do, Nick.” Sliding to the floor, he knelt at his feet, placing warm hands on jittering knees.

“You couldn’t wait, right?” Nodding to an inaudible answer, he resumed.

“And that’s ok. Look… I know this weekend is pretty hardcore on the torture factor, but you’re, we’re gonna make it.” Slight smile accompanied a hug as they stood up together.

“I think I’m gonna try to sleep again, babe.” Nick sprawled, creeping under heavy covers.

Clearing off the bed, Greg decided to join. Sleeping away the day made it go faster, he thought, resting a hand on Nick’s hip.

---

’You remember better now, huh, mister?’

The bedroom was bare; furniture burnt to cinders, blackened remains piled at his feet. Two boys surrounded him, each taking a hand. Toes covered in soot, they traced headless stick figures on the floor.

‘I do, Jeremy, I remember her much better now.’

‘She never changes. Neither do you.’ A roar of flurried noise shook the walls, light fixtures crashing with the impact.

With the scuttle of bare feet, he turned around; the boys had run to the corner, cowering like wounded animals. Jeremy embraced his companion, the younger Nicky, and cooed promises in his ear. They shivered; nude flesh catching the breeze, the window letting rain in.

‘He’ll take care of us, won’t ya mister?’ He took off his jacket, draping the boys.

‘I’m trying, I’m really trying.’ Stooping, he wrapped arms around them, shocked by icy skin.

‘Please don’t let her come back in, please!’ Little Nick shook violently, saucered eyes glaring back ebony glass.

‘I won’t…I won’t…’

Thunder ripping through oxygen, the storm lay overhead.

---

“Nick, wake up, come on, Nicky…” Alerted by sudden shouts, he tried to shake Nick out of the dream. Big eyes looked back, glimmer of panic.

“Just another dream, Nick.” He cleared his throat, unsteady voice clouding consolation.

“I know. They’ve just been getting…” Pausing to wipe sleep away, Greg finished the sentence.

“More real.”

He edged closer, pulling bodies face to face. Worried ache tensing Nick’s jaw, he lost himself momentarily in the sensation. Stroking a fever-dampened arm, he moved lips over a stubbled cheek, whispering comforts.

“Hang on just a bit longer, Nicky, Monday’s right around the corner.” The statement driving reaction, a vibration of low groaning made him uneasy. Lights wavered in Nick’s eyes, a switch shut off within. Feeling a deep pressure on his hips, the room spun as Nick flipped him on his stomach. Angry fingers pulled at his waistband, jolting at the brutal tackle. A stunned catalepsy froze him, unable to grasp what was going on. Dull burns guised as kisses scraped his neck, rapid and erratic action, he was rigid in the fray. Nails digging, skin tore as Nick clawed him, searching for something he couldn’t seem to find. The bruise of pinched restraint throbbed as legs were hastily spread apart in a scissor motion; he struggled against the weight pressing him into the mattress. Muffled against the pillow, he tried to reason.

“Nick, stop…stop! What are you doing?” Reply not surfacing, struck deaf by unconscious ire.

Finding his strength, he fought back, hurtling Nick to the floor, sickening thud resonated throughout.

“What in the fuck was that? You really scratched me…damn!” Sucking in air, the burn of red lines against his waist flared. He inched away, hands in a downward surrender pose. Reaching for the first object in his eye line, he threw a remote, poor aim causing it to shatter against the far wall.

“I…I didn’t mean it.” Rubbing at soreness, he answered back.

“I know, but it still fucking hurt, Nick!”

Walking swiftly to the bathroom, apologies were mumbled at him in a haze of confusion. Slamming the door, he sat on the lidded commode to gain composure, a rock weighing sick in his stomach. He pulled up his shirt, wincing at the long jagged marks, tiny deposits of misplaced rage. The mirror revealed a helpless expression. Drowning in himself he softly dropped to ceramic tile, weeping for things he couldn’t control. A knock of inquiry, he straightened up. Swinging open the door, Nick stood pathetically, arms weakly extended, face stained.

“I…oh Jesus, Greg, I, I…” Chests heaved as sobs fell, the concave of insides. Arms embraced, an effort to keep his partner from falling apart. Patting his back, he held Nick close, understanding the journey had brought sanity dangerously close to the edge; he forgave transgressions under hushed breath, guiding him to the bed.

“It’s almost over, Nicky, come on now…” Nick placed his head on Greg’s lap, body racked. Fingers ran lovingly over a scalp as Greg tucked him into bed, soft motion lulling the frenzied man asleep. Stretching out beside him, he wrapped his body around Nick’s quaking frame, decades of buried pain tugging at harried seams. He could do nothing.

---

Watching Greg change, he felt sick. Clean sullied by blind aggression, bolts of scratch marks decorated smooth skin.

“Dear god, I did all that?” A wordless yes confirmed his guilt. Greg turned his back to finish dressing; circular bruises where fists pinned down arms bluntly rang out his crime. They had planned on leaving early, as weekday morning traffic at the capitol’s epicenter would be hectic as always. As he reached to touch him, Greg shifted away, picking up shoes to cover the rejection.

“I am so sorry, Greg. I have no idea where that came from.”

“I know, I know.” Greg cautiously hugged him, placing a tepid kiss on his cheek.

“So, once we get there, Nick, what next?” Shrugging, he grabbed his keys from the TV stand and headed for the door.

“Nick, I’m worried about this whole thing.” Nervous touch of hand to face, he feigned confidence.

“Don’t be. We’re just gonna…talk it out with her.” Little lies thickly coated a tongue like school paste, internal retching causing a choke.

“Come on. You drive, babe.” Greg shook his head, handing the keys back.

“You start the car, Nick, I’ll be right there. Just have to grab something.”

Head bowing, he strode out.

---

tbc.

Chapter 1 HERE
Chapter 2 HERE
Chapter 3 HERE
Chapter 4 HERE
Chapter 5 HERE
Chapter 6 HERE
Chapter 7 HERE
Chapter 8 HERE