Cutting My Losses

Warrick put his foot on the accelerator, speeding through the green light, following Nick's SUV, only to stop a couple blocks later at a red light. He used the few seconds to think about Greg. As of late, his mind was never far from the younger man, and the state that Warrick left him in this morning ensured that his thoughts wouldn't stray far. Greg sitting in a sleep rumpled bed, thin sheets draped precariously across slim hips, cheeks and chest lightly flushed. It was enough to make Warrick want to turn around and go home, back to Greg. But he couldn't do that.

The sound of a car honking interrupted his thoughts. The light was green. He drove through the light and down a few blocks before making a right into the small diner's parking lot. He parked his car and walked toward the building. Nick was already leaning against the front wall next to the front door.

"What happened at the light, man? You didn't see it change? Sight failing you in your old age? They say it's the first to go." Warrick spared a few seconds to send a mock glare Nick's way as he opened the diner door.

"You do realize you're not that much younger than me, right?"

"The operative word being ‘younger.’" Warrick let out a chuckle and shook his head at their friendly teasing as they walked toward their usual booth.

They sat down, and, like clockwork, Sheila came to take their order.

"What you want?" Warrick was the first to answer.

"Just the usual." They always ended up getting the same thing, but every time Nick would insist on looking at the menu. He stared at the menu for a few minutes, his lips pursed as if concentrating. Without taking his eyes from the menu he ordered a chef salad with turkey and a side order of fruit salad. Same thing he always ordered. Before he had a chance to close the menu and hand it back to Sheila, the older woman snatched the menu from his hands and was walking away from their table.

"You know, I think she likes you." Nick's eyes flickered to Shelia's wide ass, following it for a second before looking back to Warrick in all seriousness.

"Man, don't even joke like that. That's not even funny."

"Beggars can't be choosers, Nick. When was the last time you got laid?" Nick's face reddened a bit.

"That's none of your business."

"That long, huh? You know, I can pull some strings for you. I got a little black book full of numbers."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I want. Your hand-me-downs. And shouldn't be burning that little book? Now that you're off the market and all." Warrick looked appalled by the thought of destroying his book.

"You never burn the book, man. It's a sacred rule."

"Mmhmm. I'm sure Greg would have something to say about that. Is he going to Tony's tonight, see you play?"

"Nah. It's not really his kind of thing. I used to invite him all the time to different things, but he never seemed that interested, you know? I've just stopped asking. We see each other all the time at work and we're at each other's place almost every other night. He probably likes having the time to himself. We made some plans to hook up after though. A romantic night in. I'm not planning on either of us leaving the bed for a least a few hours."

"Too much information, man. The last thing I wanna think about is Sanders in bed." Shelia walked over, placing their plates in front of them.

They continued a light conversation as they ate, discussing work for a bit before getting into other things. Nick talked about the latest news from his family. His youngest sister called him every week to update him on the family gossip. Warrick spent a few minutes talking about his grandmother's health. She had been in the hospital for a couple of days about a month ago with respiratory problems. He and Nick had visited her in the hospital, keeping her company. Fortunately, she was doing better now. They changed her medication and she hadn't had any complaints since.

"Speaking of hospitals, how's Greg doing?"

"He's fine. His back is completely healed. He'll have scars, but physically he's fine."

"He doesn't look too fine. I saw him in lab, he was shaking. According to others, it wasn't a one time kind of thing." The thought of people talking behind his lover's back was enough to piss Warrick off.

"Fuck! Everyone's up in his business, huh? You're all talking behind his back?"

"Calm down, Rick. You know it's not like that. We're just concerned."

"He flew through a fucking glass wall a couple of weeks ago! Of course he's gonna have some problems."

"Problems, as in plural? What else is going on?" Warrick sat back and sighed, some of the anger leaving his system.

"I'm just telling you this 'cause you're my friend, Nick, and I trust you. Greg obviously doesn't want anyone to know. So this stays between you and me, 'kay?"

"Yeah, you know I won't tell, Rick."

"Well, besides the shaking thing in lab, he's been having these nightmares, every night. He won't talk to me about it, won't consider seeing someone about them."

"How bad are the nightmares?"

"Nick, almost every night he wakes up screaming. Most of the time it's my name. I try to wake him up, but eventually the screaming turns into crying and sobbing. And I end up holding him, trying to calm him down. He always falls asleep after a few minutes. How can he fall asleep after something like that? I know I can't."

"Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"I just said he won't talk about it, Nick. It's not like I haven't tried."

"Why won't he?"

"Hell if I know."

"Maybe he's not sure if you wanna hear what he's got to say."

"Why would he think that, Nick? I listen to him all the fucking time. I listen to him babble about work, his Poppa Olaf, our co-workers, his career, his favorite cartoons, his expensive coffee. The boy can talk. I do nothing but listen."

"Man, no offense or anything, but even on the best of days, you got that whole poker face, uncaring, stoic attitude thing goin' on. Sometimes you even fool me. I mean, I know that you care and that you're listening, but for someone that doesn't know you as well, or someone that's just getting to know you, it's probably hard to tell when you're interested and when you're not."

"So you think Greg thinks I don't care about what he's feeling?"

"Yeah, maybe you should do something special for him. Let him know you care, get him to open up. You're doing something tonight, right?

"Right."

"You should do something real nice. And I'm not talking just sex, man. Maybe you could take him away somewhere? Get him away from work and Vegas. A weekend, alone, just the two of you." Warrick nodded his head as he thought about the possibilities.

"Maybe."

"Which is Warrick-speak for 'yes, I'm gonna take Greg away for the weekend', right?" Nick asked with an easy grin.

"Right."

XXXXXXXXXX

Warrick used his key to unlock the front door. And almost as soon as he entered the house, he was hit with the smell of baking brownies.

"Is that you, Warrick?" He followed the sound of his grandmother's voice and the smell of the brownies.

"Yeah, it's me, Grams." He walked into the kitchen to see the elderly woman standing near the counter, stirring some batter. Warrick walked over, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. "How you doing, Grams?"

"I'm doing good, baby." Warrick took a seat on a stool at the kitchen island. "I made a batch for your friend Nicholas. I know how much he likes them. And I know he doesn't get enough home-cooked food with his family so far away." Warrick had to chuckle at the thought of calorie-counting Nick pigging out on brownies, which he would undoubtedly do once he received them. He just couldn't resist the temptation.

"He'll be glad to hear that. He loves your brownies."

"I'm making a batch for you and Gregory, too." She had her back to Warrick, pouring the batter into a brownie tray.

"It's just Gregor, Grams. Remember? It's Norwegian." They had this same discussion every time Greg's name came up in conversation.

"You know what I meant. What kind of name is Gregor, anyways?"

"It's Norwegian."

"I know that. You just told me that, Warrick. You don't need to repeat yourself." Warrick rolled his eyes.

"And don't you roll your eyes at me, boy." She said it with her back to him, putting the tray of batter in the oven.

"What, you got eyes in the back of your head now?" She placed the batter bowl in the sink and turned around to face him.

"No, I just know you all too well. You haven't changed a bit. So how is Gregor doing? He seems like a sweet boy, although I wouldn't really know since someone refuses to let me meet him." Warrick chose to ignore that second part and focus on the first.

"He is a sweet boy. And he's doing just fine." Grams took a seat across from Warrick, making herself comfortable.

"Warrick, how long would you say I've known you?"

"Um…31 years, give or take a few months."

"Right, so I've known you all your life and you think I don't know when you're lying?"

"No, I just---"

"How 'bout we start over. How is Gregor doing?"

"He's having nightmares about the explosion. They're pretty bad. He won't talk to anyone about them, including me."

"That poor boy. Maybe you should invite him over for dinner, let me talk to him." Warrick knew exactly what she was doing. For the last month or so, she'd been trying to get him to introduce Greg to her.

"Grams, I've never brought any of my girlfriends here. What makes you think I'll bring Greg?"

"He's different."

"How? Because he's a guy?"

"Don't be dumb, boy. He's different because you love him."

"I've been in love before, Grams. It's nothing new. It doesn't mean it'll last."

"I've got a feeling about this one. I know it'll work. What makes you think it won't last?" She got up and poured a couple glasses of milk and set a plate of brownies in front of Warrick before taking a seat across from her grandson again.

"I don't know." He took a bite of a brownie before continuing. "We're just---"

"Don't talk with a full mouth, Warrick."

"Sorry, Grams" he mumbled around brownie crumbs before swallowing and taking a sip of milk. "He's just kinda young, I guess. We're really different. We come from different backgrounds. He's never been in a serious relationship before. He goes for the casual kind of thing. I don't know. I guess there's nothing that says he's too serious about this, about us."

"I know there are some differences between you two, baby. But that's not what this is. What's really going on in that head of yours?" Warrick met his grandmothers soft brown gaze, before looking away, focusing instead on the brownies in front of him.

"Grams, I love him. I really do, no doubt. But, like I said, I've been in love before. And every time, they leave. What's to say that this time won't be like those? I mean, there's a pattern here, right? Eventually he'll leave me."

"Oh baby. You don't know that. It might be different this time." She walked around the counter, sitting next to him, so she could wrap her arm around his shoulders in a sideways hug.

"That's what I'm hoping Grams."

XXXXXXXXXX

Warrick was on his way to Greg's place from Tony's when he got the call. He was still floating on that natural high he got whenever he performed. Of course something had to bring him crashing down to reality. Apparently while he was performing at Tony's, there was a little crime spree in Vegas. Cath, Nick, and Sara were all out at different scenes. Another scene came up and they were short on investigators. Gil called to see if he could come in. There was a shooting, two kids, no older than sixteen in an empty park.

It was already past three when he got the call. Warrick spent the early morning processing the scene. The kids turned out to be twelve and thirteen, Raleigh Middle School IDs. Warrick wished Gil would stop assigning him this kind of stuff. He really couldn't take it. If he had to see another little kid killed way before his time, he would
just…well, he would investigate it. He would figure out who did it and pray to God that the person would be punished justly. It was all he could do in the end.

He and Nick finished their scenes around the same time, and both decided to pick up some food before heading to their respective homes. While Nick was placing his order, Warrick called a little bed and breakfast that Catherine had told him about last night when they were having dinner. He reserved a room for the entire weekend, a little retreat from it all. As soon as he hung up the phone, it started ringing. Warrick smiled when he saw the display. It was Greg.

"Warrick, I need to tell---"

"Warrick!" It was Nick. It was his turn to order.

"Hey, babe. Can this wait? I'm getting breakfast with Nick."

"Yeah, it can wait. I'll talk to you later." Warrick closed his phone and placed his order. He ordered some waffles for himself and those gross chocolate chip pancakes that Greg liked so much.

When he got to Greg's apartment, he used the key the younger man had given him a couple of weeks ago. He set the bags of food on the kitchen counter and walked through the living room toward the bedroom.

No Greg.

Warrick glanced at the closet across from the door. Half of Greg's clothes were gone. The suitcase that always occupied the closet floor was missing. His laptop wasn't on the desk in the corner. The extra pairs of shoes he left by the dresser weren't there. Warrick walked toward the bathroom. The toothbrush and toothpaste was gone. He took his pain medication and sleeping pills too.

He was gone.

Warrick sat on the sleep-rumpled bed, his head in his hands. Greg left. He didn't leave a note, didn't tell him where he would be. He was just gone. Warrick shook his head silently. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to leave so soon. They were supposed to have more time.