One Step at a Time

A/N: I just want to thank y’all for hanging in there with me. I’ve got a hellish class schedule this semester, but with the way I procrastinate, hopefully I’ll be able to do a better job of updating the story. ;) Thanks everyone! Love, D

Chapter 18


All right, so the world didn’t end.

But Greg wished more than once that the Earth would explode while he was shut inside that close-walled office made even smaller by angry voices. He would have even settled for the ground opening up and swallowing him whole--or maybe saving him and just swallowing Nick and Grissom, but no such luck.

It wasn’t that he disagreed with what they were saying, or rather, with what Nick was saying. Gil seemed to be playing the part of referee in this shouting match, interrupting only when it looked like they might erupt into violence. Nick was the one providing a voice for Jack--which brought up a huge question in Greg’s mind. Since when were Nick and Jack even friends? As far as he knew, the only time Nick had ever met Jack was when he was knocked out on painkillers in the hospital. But apparently Nick did know Jack, knew him well enough to present an irritatingly accurate case against them.

But the Nick/Jack’s voice combo was right. He and Warrick hadn’t been listening to Jack. They’d been treating him as one would treat a child, as if Jack were reliant upon the two of them alone for everything and completely incapable of doing anything for himself. Hell, it was a miracle they hadn’t resorted to spoon-feeding him or hiring a baby-sitter to watch him when they weren’t there.

Basically, they’d fucked up. Nothing new there. He’d had already come to that realization on his own when he’d seen the look in Jack’s eyes that morning, though it had been obvious for a while that the three of them were having serious problems. He knew it, Warrick knew it, Jack knew it, and while they’d yet to do anything about it, they weren’t oblivious to the fact that everything was going wrong and something needed to be done.

But this was not the place to try and solve their problems. This was not a therapist’s office, or their living room, or even a smoky bar with a couple pitchers of beer waiting on the table in front of them. This was their place of work, and it was none of Nick’s, Gil’s or anyone else’s goddamn business what was going on in his and Warrick’s private lives.

And Greg could tell that if he didn’t get Warrick out of there fast, there was a good chance this office would turn into a boxing ring. What really unnerved him was that if a fight did break out, he wasn’t sure if he was going to do anything to stop it. In fact, he rather thought he’d join in.

Feeling Grissom’s eyes on him as Warrick and Nick were caught up in their full-blown shouting match, he turned to look at the older man, surprised to find compassion and sympathy lurking in the impassive gaze. While he usually would have given anything to be on the receiving end of Grissom’s rare show of humanity, for once he didn’t want Grissom’s sympathy. He wanted Gil to be their dispassionate supervisor. He wanted Grissom to stand and yell at them for bringing this into work in the first place, but for some reason, the older man didn’t say a thing. Apparently, Jack had won him over as well, or maybe it was just Nick who’d convinced Grissom to do this. Whatever the reason, Greg was starting to resent them both, but for that they should be grateful, when Warrick was about to go beyond resentment and nearing hatred.

“Rick!” Greg snarled, a command for restraint in his voice when it looked as if Warrick was about to lunge across the desk at Nick, and his lover turned to him with flashing green eyes.

“Don’t you dare start with me. If you think--”

“I don’t,” he said, cutting him off. “In fact, I agree with you one hundred percent.” Warrick was surprised enough for his jaw to snap shut into silence and Greg turned to the other two. “Nick, Grissom, you’re out of line.”

“We’re out of line?!” Nick started, still in full-blown Jack defense mode, but was stopped by Grissom’s hand on his arm.

“Listen to him,” Gil said, but his late support did nothing to ease Greg’s anger.

“I know you’re just trying to be our friends,” he continued, “but don’t. Stay the fuck out of our private lives. You have no right to lecture us on how to run our family, not here, not like this, not ever. You have a problem, you come talk to us on your own time, in private.” Greg sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He hated this--he hated fighting, he hated that his colleagues were turning against them, he hated that they’d ever had a reason for things go to this far. He couldn’t stay here any longer, and he had to get Rick out of there also before things got any worse. “Grissom, we’re calling in sick for the rest of the day and possibly tomorrow--however long it takes us to decide if we want to continue working in a place where our colleagues mistake interference for professionalism. I can tell you now, if anything like this happens again, I will not be back. Rick, let’s go.”

With a triumphant and somewhat proud gleam in his eyes, Warrick followed Greg out of the building and to the parking lot, leaving a fuming Nick and a narrowed-eyed Grissom behind them.

“That was. . . wow, man,” Warrick said, looking on the younger man with new eyes. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Shut up,” Greg growled. “Every goddamn word they said was true. The fact that Jack couldn’t even come to us but had to go to Nick in order to get help should tell you just how upset he is, and how little we’ve noticed it.” He took a deep breath, shaking his head as he softened his voice, not wanting to get into a fight with Warrick as well. “You should have seen him this morning, Rick. He’s this close to hating us and we’re a helluva lot closer to losing him. Unless you want that to happen, we’re going to go home right now and we’re going to sit Jack down and we’re going to talk.”

A deep rumbling seemed to erupt from Warrick’s chest and Greg prepared himself for the worst as he held his lover’s gaze. Was he at risk of losing both his lovers? If it came to that, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He didn’t know if he had the energy left to fight for them both.

But then Warrick sighed and, much to his relief, the rumbling subsided.

“All right.”

Greg’s eyes widened. “All right?”

“Yes,” Warrick said in a tight voice, “all right. I don’t want to lose Jack any more than you do. Let’s go talk.”

“You sure you’re going to be okay with this?”

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Considering how jealous I was when I caught you coming out of his room tonight? Yeah, I’m ready to talk.”

“We didn’t do anything, in case you’re wondering,” Greg said with a smile. Warrick was cooperating--it was more than he’d hoped for.

“I wasn’t,” Warrick said, looking at him with a slight smirk curling his lips. “It hasn’t been so long that I’ve forgotten the kinds of sounds you two make. You were dead to the world all day.”

“You don’t know that!” Greg countered as they climbed into the truck. “It’s possible we were being quiet so we wouldn’t wake you up.”

“No, it isn’t,” he said, fully grinning now.

“Yes, it is. In fact, we were going at it in every room in the house. You slept through it all.”

“Liar.”

“Even against the wall right outside your bedroom. Twice.”

“Uh-huh,” Warrick said, then the humor faded from his voice as he continued softly, “and it’s not my bedroom.”

“No, you’re right, it’s not,” Greg said, reaching over to place a comforting hand on his thigh. “Hopefully we’ll be out of there tonight.”

“Do you think it’ll be safe? I mean, is he up for it?”

“Don’t ask me. Ask Jack,” he answered, knowing this was what they should have done from the beginning. “He has a better idea of what he’s ready for than we do. We just have to hope he’ll be honest.”

“Maybe if we listen, he will be.”

“I’m willing if you are.”

“I’ll do anything to get us back on track,” Warrick said, earning him a smile from Greg.

“I couldn’t agree more. And while I hate to bring it up, what do you think we should do about Nick and Grissom?”

“I think you did a good job of putting them in their place back there, and I agree, if they ever pull a stunt like this again, we’re leaving. I don’t like being ambushed in the place where I work,” he said, then added with a sidelong look at Greg, “even if we deserved it.”

The younger man sighed. “Yeah. Which reminds me--I still want to know when Jack and Nick became such good friends.”

“We’ll add it to the list of things we need to talk about,” he said, pulling into the driveway. The house was filled light, every window shining brightly into the night, and Greg and Warrick exchanged concerned glances. It was obvious something was going on and they quickly stepped out of the truck and walked towards the house.

Music blared from the stereo, loud, angry sounds completely atypical of Jack’s preferred selection and they walked through the door to find the house’s state mirrored the CD’s chaotic noise. Books and papers were scattered in piles across the floor. The shelves were in complete disarray, having recently been rifled through with hurried hands. The kitchen cabinets had been relieved of seemingly random items which were gathered together on the table. Parker was barking wildly from the backyard, clearly excited by whatever had been going on.

Growing increasingly worried, Warrick and Greg headed towards Jack’s bedroom and found almost his entire wardrobe had been tossed haphazardly into suitcases and trash bags. They didn’t need to find Jack to know what was going on. He was moving out.

“We can fix this,” Warrick said at the stricken look on Greg’s face. “We can stop him.”

“We’d better be able to. If we can’t--” But Greg didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, interrupted by a crash from the garage. They rushed through the house to find Jack doubled over, one hand on his stomach, the other placed on the hood of his car for support.

“Jack!” Greg cried, running to his side. “What happened? Are you all right? Rick, call an ambulance!”

“No!” Jack said, glaring at them both. “I’m all right.”

“You’re not all right!” Greg said, wrapping his arms around him and trying to lead their lover to the house. “We’re going to get you inside and you’re going to lie down and--”

“Greg,” Warrick said, the calm of his voice cutting through the younger man’s panic. “Listen to him.”

Greg opened his mouth to object, then his eyes widened with the realization that he’d been doing exactly what he’d promised himself he was going to stop doing. Withdrawing his arms, he took a couple steps away from Jack. “I’m sorry.”

Jack stared between the two of them as if they’d lost their minds, then shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“What happened?” Warrick asked.

“I was picking up the toolbox, but someone didn’t close the latch on it, so it opened onto my foot. I was doing my best not to scream out curses when you two burst in here.” Jack frowned, looking at them. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at work.”

“We came to talk,” Greg said, bending over to pick up the tools scattered over the garage floor, wincing at the sight of Jack’s feet thoroughly unprotected by a pair of flip-flops. No wonder it had looked like he was in agony, Greg thought, picking up a heavy wrench. He was lucky the tools hadn’t snapped any of his bones.

“To talk,” Jack repeated flatly and Greg looked up into those suspicious brown eyes and smiled.

“I think it’s about time, don’t you?”

Their lover was silent as he looked at them and it pained Greg to see how fearful he’d grown of them. “Almost too late,” Jack said, his voice nearly a whisper.

“Is it?” Warrick asked. “Too late, I mean?”

Jack bit his lip, thinking of an answer, but was unable to come up with anything concrete. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s go into the house and find out,” Warrick said. “Want anything to drink?”

“Coffee would be nice,” Jack said, and though he saw the disapproval in his lovers’ eyes, he was surprised when they didn’t try to argue.

“I’ll get a pot started,” Greg said, moving into the kitchen while Warrick waited for the limping musician.

“Need some ice?” he asked, wanting nothing more than to pick Jack up and carry him to the nearest chair.

“Okay,” Jack said, stepping carefully up into the house and shuffling towards the kitchen table while Warrick threw some ice in a bag.

With the coffee percolating in the background, ice clinking occasionally as Jack shifted his foot, the three sat around the table with an awkward stilted silence hanging between them.

Greg was the first to break. “Where were you going?”

Jack shrugged. “Anywhere.”

“I thought. . . this morning. . . I thought you understood.”

“Understood what?” he snapped. “That we both think our current arrangement sucks? Yeah, it’s understood, but you never said anything about changing it.”

“I thought it was implied.”

Jack shook his head. “Nothing about us can be implied anymore. We’re broken.”

“We’re not broken,” Warrick said harshly. “You were broken. We did what we did to make sure you could be fixed without us making things worse.”

The brown eyes fixed on Warrick, Jack’s gaze filled with sorrow. “That may have been your intention, but then you just took over and I--I just kept breaking. I can’t live like this. I want you two as my partners in life, not my keepers.”

“We know, and we’re sorry,” Greg said. “We know we took things too far, but when you were shot, when we almost lost you--Jack, I’ve never been so frightened in my entire life. I never want to feel like that again.”

“It was no picnic for me either, which is why I needed your support and your help, but you never gave me a chance to ask. You just assumed you would know my needs better than I would. You didn’t listen to me!”

“And if we could take it back, we would.” Warrick reached over to place a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You know what I’m like when someone I care about is in trouble--you saw it with Nick. I don’t know how to react, so I overreact, and I fuck everything up, and I’m sorry, Jack, you have no idea how sorry, but please, please don’t leave. Give us another chance. We’ll get it figured out and, I promise, it won’t happen again.”

As he watched the war in Jack’s eyes, Greg’s heart pounded in his chest. He held his breath as they waited for his answer, silently begging whatever deity might be listening to help Jack make the right decision. He almost forgot to breathe again when Jack finally spoke.

“I want my music back.”

“We’ll bring everything over tonight,” Warrick said.

“And. . . um. . . speaking of music, both the Symphony and the Quintet called wanting to know when you’d be back,” Greg said, staring down at the table, avoiding Jack’s eyes when he added, “four weeks ago. I told them you’d call when you were ready.”

Anger flared in Jack’s face, but then he took a deep breath, calming himself as he nodded. “I’ll call them tomorrow. I may not be ready,” he said, noting the edgy movement from Warrick’s direction, “not until I get a couple weeks’ practice in, but I need to let them know I do plan on returning. Which reminds me--I don’t know where the fuck you put the keys to my car, but I want them back.”

Wordlessly, Warrick dug into his pocket and tossed a set of keys across the table.

Jack stared at them, a little taken aback. He hadn’t expected such a speedy response. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Anything else?”

“I have your word you’re going to listen to me from now on?”

“Yes,” they answered in unison.

“And when we have a problem, we’ll all three of us work it out together?”

“That’s the plan,” Warrick nodded.

“And there’s going to be no more estrangement between us? We’re back to being together, partners in everything?”

“That’s what we want,” Greg said.

Jack stretched his arms across the table, Warrick and Greg each taking one of his hands in their own. “That’s what I want, too. I want you both back as a part of my life, not on the outside trying to control it.”

“I’m sorry we hurt you,” Warrick said, then looked at Greg, linking their free hands together before turning back to Jack. “We both are.”

Jack smiled, squeezing their hands. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

“What do you say we order in some Chinese food and start putting everything back where it belongs?” Greg said and the others nodded.

“Sounds good,” Warrick said, standing up. “You two order while I’ll run over to Greg’s and pick up your instruments.”

“Jack, why don’t you order? And it doesn’t have to be Chinese--choose whatever you want. I’ll go straighten up the bedroom. Just in case,” Greg said, his voice layered with a not-so-subtle innocent suggestion.

“Good idea,” Jack nodded. “There’s no way the three of us will fit on the bed while it’s covered by all those suitcases.”

Grinning widely, Greg dashed off to the bedroom. Warrick chuckled as he turned to meet Jack’s eyes and the humor slowly faded from his face.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he said softly and Jack stood up, sliding his foot out from beneath the melting bag of ice.

“You should be.”

“You’ve got to believe me, Jack. Tell me how I can make this up to you.”

“I don’t know, Warrick. There’s so much between us that’s been damaged, I don’t know where to begin.”

“You seemed to forgive Greg easy enough.”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, anger again flashing in his eyes. “First of all, he’s not forgiven. Second, there’s a major difference between the way he acted and the way you acted. When I looked at him, I could tell he didn’t like treating me like that, but he was determined to because he felt like it was for my own good. In your eyes, I just saw fear. Why fear, Warrick? Are you afraid of me? Are you afraid of loving me? Or are you just afraid you’re in over your head? Are you afraid of us? Are you leaving us?”

“Oh no, baby. None of that,” Warrick said, pulling him into his arms, resting his cheek on the dark curls. “None of it. You two are the best thing to happen to me--the best. But you’re right, I was afraid. Terrified. I was terrified I would lose you and every day I grew more afraid I was going to do something or miss something that would take you from me.”

Jack looked up at him, understanding lighting his face. “Is that why you’ve been so controlling?”

Warrick shrugged, forcing himself to meet his lover’s eyes. “I couldn’t risk losing you again, Jack. I knew if I had a hand in everything, at least then I could make sure nothing else would go wrong.”

“Warrick, whatever happened to me, whatever may happen to me, you can’t blame yourself.”

“Doesn’t keep me from feeling responsible--for you, for Nick. Common sense tells me it’s stupid, but I can’t help feeling this way.” Guarded green eyes met Jack’s. “I just want to protect you.”

“And I want to protect you,” he said, pressing a hand to Warrick’s cheek. “I’d give anything to keep you and Greg here twenty-four hours a day, but I know I can’t, just like you can’t keep me.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he said, tightening his arms around Jack. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just don’t do it again.”

“I’ll try. God, I’ll try. I’ll do anything not to lose you again.”

“You didn’t lose me, tiger,” Jack said, smiling up at him. “You came close, but I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you, Jack.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Now, shouldn’t you be doing something?”

“Greg might have the bed cleared by now,” Warrick grinned, and Jack laughed, pushing him away.

“Not that. Go get my music while I clean up the kitchen.”

“And order dinner.”

“Right, thanks for reminding me.” Jack went to the drawer containing all the take-out menus and began digging through them. Warrick watched him for a second, then walked over to place a hand on his back.

“We okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Jack smiled, then leaned up to steal a kiss. “Now go.”

“Yes sir,” he said, stealing from Jack an even longer kiss, then left to collect the abducted instruments.

The second he heard the front door close and Warrick drive away, Jack abandoned the menus, grabbed the keys to his car, and ran.

[Chapter completed September 11, 2005]