Dead Wrong

Chapter Two: Staying Strong


After checking with Hodges on the fiber Nick found on Jason Preston-Hughes’ pant leg, and coming up empty, Greg and Nick decided that clocking in for overtime tonight would be a far cry from what they needed and headed home.

But back at the townhouse, things weren’t much better. In fact, the day just seemed to be progressively getting more out of hand from the moment the couple walked in the door and found that their usually docile cat, Tigger, had thought it would be entertaining to tear down the rather expensive sheer, white curtains hanging over the living room bay window; effectively ripping them to shreds.

“Damnit!” Greg cursed, while muttering something about the orange tabby who was laying on the couch, swishing his tail back and forth and looking pretty proud of himself.

“I told you…”

“Yes, I know, Nick," Greg interrupted as he began picking up shreds of the curtains scattered throughout the family room and stuffing them into a trashbag. "But I already explained to you why I didn’t want to get him declawed. It’s like amputating your fingers down to the first knuckle. How would *you* like it?”

Nick shrugged and took a seat on the large leather sofa at the far end of the room, pinching the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to vanquish the impending migraine. Tigger mewed and trotted across the back of the couch to plop down beside his owner’s head, rubbing against him lovingly.

“I’m not very happy with you right now, buddy.” The Texan informed, but picked up the slightly overweight cat anyway and set him in his lap. “And if you think I’m mad… your Daddy’s seriously pissed.” he chuckled and stroked Tigger’s soft, ginger fur with the palm of his hand, stopping only to scratch behind the feline’s fuzzy pink ears.

Tigger purred happily and flipped around on his back, signaling it was time for a belly rub.

“I swear, that damn cat is more like a dog sometimes.” Greg sighed and walked to the opposite end of the couch, settling down into the stiff material. He could feel his nerves calm a little more as the previous night’s events started to dissipate from his mind and the proposition of sleep overtook his body. He was exhausted, not only physically but mentally as well. The job was draining, exceptionally more so than it was when he was in the lab.

Back then he wasn’t directly exposed to the heinous occurrences that took place in the ’outside world’. Because his lab was safe, it was home; someplace he could trust and feel secure in. That is, until the explosion. And by that time, Greg knew he had to get out. That he couldn’t stay cooped up in his once private panic room for the rest of his life.

But on days like this, Greg almost wished he’d never even passed that last proficiency test to become a CSI.

“Hey, you okay?” the familiar lilt of Nick’s voice broke through the younger man’s daydreaming and he snapped his head up to stare in the direction of it. “Kinda looked like you were in another world there for a minute.”

“I’m good. Just… tired.” Greg managed a weak smile to his partner.

Nick knew the case had gotten to Greg, hell it had gotten to him just as bad, and the whole extravaganza wasn’t even half over yet. They still had so much work to do. Interviews, more results, possibly going back to the scene; they didn’t even have a substantial lead, much less a suspect. And it wasn’t like it was their only case, but it was high priority on the cases-to-be-solved-*now* ladder.

But it wasn’t just this particular investigation that was getting to them, Greg especially, had really started to feel the weight of the job pull him down as of late.

He may have seemed collected back when he’d whispered words of encouragement in front of the Preston-Hughes‘ once happy home, but Nick could hear the underlying waver in Greg’s voice. The worry and concern, the fear, the confusion and every other damned depressing sentiment that came with being a Crime Scene Investigator.

“C’mon, let’s get to bed. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a long night tonight.” The dark haired Texan stood and held out his hand for his partner to take, but Greg only waved it off, muttering a quick ‘Don’t remind me’ as they walked to the bedroom and began sluggishly stripping off their clothes.

*As if I could forget.* The former DNA tech thought, his shoulders slumped visibly in the pale daylight that shined through the bedroom window, almost mocking the couples odd sleep schedule.

They climbed into bed, where Nick pulled the soft, down-filled comforter up over their bodies and leaned over to set a quick kiss to Greg’s lips, trying his best to deepen it because it felt like so long since they‘d truly, passionately kissed; but Greg was so distant and didn’t even appear to notice.

The older man sighed and laid back down, not even attempting to curve his body around his lover’s like he'd done almost every night since he and Greg moved in together three years earlier. Because being with someone for that long, getting to know their every move, every habit, and every feeling, Nick knew when Greg needed his space.

“Love you, baby.” Nick whispered to Greg’s back. But the exhausted man was already fast asleep.

*Tomorrow... we are definitely buying a scratching post.* Was the last thought on Nick's mind before he fell into a restless slumber.

-- -- --

The sweet sounds of a mellifluous, baritone voice could be heard above the aching silence throughout Nick’s truck; which, when Greg was around, silence was usually very hard to come by and usually very welcome on Nick’s part. But this time, it just seemed awkward.

“I’m sorry.” Greg spoke suddenly, barely above a whisper. He was staring down into his lap, his hands fixedly clasped together over his chest as it rose with the steady inhale/exhale of his breath.

Nick glanced to his partner for only a second, not daring to take his eyes off the road for any longer length of time. “For what, baby?” he asked, reaching over to take Greg’s shaky hand in his own, glad that the unbearable reticence was over for the moment.

“For last night, Nicky. I… I didn’t even say I love you before we went to bed.” And this time Greg looked up at his longtime lover, his eyes burning from tears of grief and frustration which refused to fall. “How awful am I? What if something were to happen to you, to us, in the middle of the night? How could I ever live with myself knowing I didn’t say I love you if you were to…”

Unable to take the hurt in Greg’s voice, Nick pulled off into a nearby parking lot and threw the truck into park. He quickly undid his safety belt and scooted across the seat to hold his trembling partner in his arms. “Shh… nothing’s going to happen to me, sweetie. Or us.” Nick whispered softly into Greg’s sandy-blonde hair, stroking it in time to the younger man’s racking breaths.

“I just…” Greg gulped in a lungful of air and let a few tears slip from sorrowful brown eyes. “I just love you so much, Nick. And I almost lost you once, I get so scared sometimes. I just keep thinking that could have been us on those slabs last night.”

Greg wrapped his arms around Nick’s neck and drew him closer, resting his head in the crook of the older man’s shoulder. “… just feel so weak.” he cried, the words muffled into Nick’s shirt.

Nick pulled back from the desperate embrace and took Greg’s face in his hands, guiding the other man’s eyes to his. “Hey, look at me,” he began, wiping a few stray tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “You are *not* weak, Greg.” Nick said softly, but sternly enough to make Greg inhale deeply at the tone. “Hell, you’re the most strong-willed person I know, baby. Who was the one that was comforting me when I was freakin’ out at the scene yesterday, huh?”

“M-me…”

“That’s right. You.” Nick smiled, that faint smile that made the little lines at the corners of his eyes crease slightly, the ones that Greg always thought made him look so much wiser beyond his years. “You stayed strong when I couldn’t any longer. That’s the way it’s always been and it’s not gonna change. This case, hell, this *job*… I know it’s frustrating and scary, I know it hits close to home at times and drives ya crazy, but that’s the way it is, honey. You just gotta stay tough. Okay?”

“Yeah,” the puffy-eyed man sniffled and lifted his red-rimmed eyes to meet his partner’s once more, a weak smile playing over his lips. “All I can do is try my best, right?”

The Texan pulled his lover into a tender embrace and kissed the back of Greg’s neck where the younger’s scars met the lining of his t-shirt. “That’s all anyone asks for.” he whispered into the raised, uneven skin.

-- -- --

Nearly six tiring hours into shift, no new leads were found on the Preston-Hughes double murder, but news of the abhorrence leaked into the media and Vegas’ Gay & Lesbian community were not happy, to say the least.

*"We’re doing all we can to find and convict the person responsible for this truly horrible act of violence,”* the Detective announced into a good number of microphones perched atop the podium overlooking news cameras from various TV stations.*“Until then, out sincerest condolences go out to the victims families and… ”*

The break room television went silent as Greg walked in; he needed caffeine and he needed it *now*. “Was that Cramers giving a conference on our case?” he asked, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee.

“Yeah, GLBT isn’t too pleased with the way the police are handling it, apparently. They say the cops are taking their ‘sweet time’ about finding the guy who did it ‘cuz the victims were gay. Claiming discrimination.” Sara answered her friend, who was currently staring into his cup of liquid caffeine, trying to decide whether or not his stomach could handle the rest.

He concluded it couldn’t and set the mug on the counter behind him. Sighing deeply he said, “Nick and I are doing all we can with what evidence we have. But as of right now, everything is just tracing back to the victims. Not so much as a fingerprint from another person was lifted from that crime scene.” Greg took a seat next to his fellow investigator and continued. “And this case is just fucking full of discrepancies. We can’t even piece together a proper timeline at the moment.”

“I know, Greg.” The brown haired woman said softly, setting her hand on Greg’s and smiling her sweet gap-toothed smile. “You’re a good CSI, and so is Nick. You’ll figure this out. Just don’t let anything stand in your way.”

When Greg looked up, he could see the subtle ferocity hiding behind Sara’s eyes. The thing that inspired him out of his self-deprecating funk every time he talked to his friend about wanting to give up; something of which he was grateful for.

The lopsided grin returned to Greg’s face and he felt the hardness in his stomach disappear for the time being, knowing it wouldn’t be the last time he felt it.

Just then, Nick came bounding into the break room, looking for all the world like he could burst out either cheering or cursing at any given moment.

“Greg,” he addressed, pointing to his partner and giving Sara a sideways glance. “Brass needs us in interview. A friend of the vics has just come forward with some information.”

Suddenly, Greg looked as excited as Nick felt. “We may have our lead.”

TBC