I love reading DVD commentaries for TV shows and movies and yes, even fanfic. So I decided to make one of my own, for the sole reason that I’ve never done it before, and it always sounded like fun. So here we go. I also got Mare, who beta-ed this for me, to comment. Keep in mind that she’s only seen one or two episodes of CSI in her life, so she came into this story cold. Melena, my other beta and fellow CSI addict also added her thoughts. My comments in red, Mare’s in blue, Melena’s in green.

"Judge Stokes, Mrs. Stokes, I assure you that every available resource we have is going into bringing your son home safely. All our men are working on this, and we're not going to rest until we get him back. I know I already introduced myself, but I'm Catherine Willows, head CSI on Nicky's shift." Catherine paused awkwardly, and Warrick knew it was because she'd referred to Nick by a nickname, unprofessional behavior when talking with the parents of a victim during a case.

I had this paragraph written and sitting open on my desktop for days before I could keep going. I knew what I wanted to happen over the course of the story, so instead of writing this in a linear fashion, I started at the last scene and wrote backwards.

Catherine pulled herself together and gestured to him. "This is Warrick Brown, a level three CSI that works the mid-shift with Nick."

Warrick held his hand out and greeted, "We met once before--two years ago around Christmas-time."

The choice to write the story from Warrick’s perspective was easy. During GD, we see Warrick go through the most emotional trauma, aside from Nick. I wanted to write Nick/Greg from an outsider’s POV, and Warrick was perfect, because he had so much going on in his head.

Warrick’s the hot one, right?

Yes, yes, he’s the hot one, Mare.

"Of course," Mrs. Stokes answered, returning the handshake and edging on her toes to kiss his cheek politely. Warrick didn't know whether she actually recognized him or if she fell back on her ingrained perfect Southern hostess demeanor to get through these frivolities.

"Still a Raiders’ fan?" Judge Stokes asked.

Warrick felt a small chuckle release some of the tension inside him. "Always, sir. Still rooting for the Cowboys?"

"They are America’s team,” he pointed out. “And with Bledsoe I think we’ve got a real shot this year."

I think this sounds kind of clunky. I don’t know much about football, so I had to ask my friend first, “If someone lived in Vegas, what football team would they support?” And then when he answered that, “Ok, two men are jokingly arguing over who’s better, the Raiders or the Cowboys. What would they talk about?” This little interaction is what came out of that conversation.

If you would've asked me about football, I would've said the Seahawks, but they really aren't America's team, maybe if they won more games.

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

“Yeah, we will.”

Both men smiled for a moment before falling back into pained silence. Catherine cleared her throat and continued introducing the anxious CSIs and lab techs.

"This is Sara Sidle, CSI level three." Sara shook their hands, but Warrick recognized the distant look in her eyes that said her mind continued to dissect and try to connect the evidence even while she spoke. She proved his theory correct when she dismissed herself back to the trace lab a moment later.

Through Warrick’s POV, I tried to get across how observant he is, how observant he HAS to be as a CSI. Warrick especially I see as someone who categorizes everyone and carefully examines and contemplates the evidence until he reaches a conclusion. After the events of Random Acts of Violence, I don’t think there’s any other way he can be. I also wanted to show, with this little paragraph, that he paid attention to Sara more than anyone else.

"That's Archie Johnson at the desk. He's the audio-visual tech working on finding out where that video feed is coming from."

Archie turned around and waved before going back to typing on the keyboard in front of him, his forehead wrinkling in concentration.

No lines yet? Where's the Archie love? That's what everyone needs in their life...but I guess it is kind of important he works on that video to find Nick.

Catherine gestured at Hodges working beside Sara on the other side of the glass wall. "That's David Hodges, another lab tech."

Hodges nodded at the crowd on the other side of the window when he looked up.

Catherine turned around slowly, looking for more people to introduce to Nick’s parents. Warrick recognized this classic method of trying to ease their minds. When someone hurt a child, parents always wanted to do something—be part of the process—and more often than not they did more harm than good. Introducing them to the people working on their case usually gave them a sense of power over the investigation.

Warrick felt a little guilty for manipulating the Stokes in that way, but barring them somehow producing a million bucks out of thin air in the next hour, there was nothing they could do to help. If meeting everyone brought them some comfort, as it seemed to, then Warrick was all over that.

At that moment, Greg walked around the corner, and Catherine motioned him over. With a wary look, he slowly made his way to stand in front of her.

"Yeah?" he asked. Warrick's CSI-honed eyes noted the hesitance in his usually confident step, and the pale, chalky-whiteness of his skin. He knew Greg and Nick had become close over the last two or three years. Greg still hadn't desensitized himself from the horror of everyday cases yet, so Warrick couldn't imagine how he dealt with this so soon. Warrick felt flailing and helpless, like a useless kid, and he’d been doing this for seven years.

Again, I mention Warrick’s “CSI-honed eyes.” I’m really trying to hammer this point home, lol. Right now, he’s coming to some of the right conclusions about Greg’s feelings, but he’s missing a crucial piece of information.

The description of Greg is perfect from what we've seen of his first time in the field with Chasing the Bus, and the episode with the woman who set herself on fire (I can't remember what it's called) and if he was shook up that much over a stranger being hurt, imagine how he'd feel when someone he really cared about was in danger.

"Greg, I want you to meet Nick's parents. Judge and Mrs. Stokes, this is Greg Sanders, CSI level one and the best DNA lab tech we have."

Warrick could tell Catherine expected Greg to react to her compliment on his abilities, but he only stood there, staring at the ground and looking uncomfortable.

“Greg?” Mrs. Stokes asked, her voice choked. (There may or may not have been a terrible adverb affliction here before I saved you poor readers. Steph thought she was JK Rowling.) Sad but true.

“Yes, maam,” Greg answered with unusual deference.

Mrs. Stokes placed a hand over her mouth, and hesitantly stepped up to him. “Greg?”

Then to Warrick’s surprise, she flung her arms around him, gripping tightly. Greg stood frozen for several seconds before bringing one hand up to rest between her shoulder blades.

“You’ll find him, won’t you?” she asked. “You’ll bring him back to me.”

Greg disentangled himself from her arms, his face blank. “Grissom and Catherine are in charge of the investigation, and we’re doing everything we can.”

“But you’ll…” Mrs. Stokes began before Judge Stokes put his hand on her arm.

“Leave him alone, Jill,” he said. Then to Greg, “We know you’ll do your best, son.” He looked around at all of them, “We know all of you will, and we’re very grateful.”

I wanted to write a story about Nick having nice, accepting parents. So many people seem to equate the words “Southern” and “Judge” with narrow-minded and homophobic. I’ve never been to Texas, but I’m betting there are some real nice people there. (My nephew will be thankful to know you think so highly of him.)

In my head, Judge Stokes is a liberal who instilled in Nicky a real sense of what’s right, and is proud as hell of his son and the life he’s made for himself, despite what his friends and colleagues might think of Nick’s lifestyle.

Greg motioned to Jacqui’s lab. “I have to get back.” He slipped past the group and headed down the hall.

“We should all get back, actually,” Catherine replied. She gave Warrick a questioning look, and Warrick shrugged. Somehow they both missed how close Nick and Greg became.

Here, I had another sentence to end the section. Something like, “They must be better friends than Warrick realized.” I think it was Mare that wrote, “duh” next to that in the beta. I realized it was overkill, smacking you in the face with the foreshadowing, so I took it out. Mare’s good like that. (Yes, I have this problem where I credited the reader with having a brain. I mean, I’ve never watched the show, but I think I figured it all out.…)

This first section was also the part where I, as a non-viewer of the show, had to ask the question…Who is Cath? Catherine’s other personality? Because it wasn’t written like a nickname in dialogue, but rather a distinction between two characters. And really, that’s just shoddy television writing.

Yes, I had many “Cath’s” littered throughout this story, because Warrick calls her Cath on the show. But Mare pointed out that it didn’t work well, and made things confusing.

I think it's good that Warrick and Catherine haven't realized how close Nick and Greg had become. Really, I doubt that they would have flaunted a relationship around the office. There's a lot of flirting and could be relationships on that show, and even though sometimes the other characters are aware it's never been a huge part of the show.

--

Warrick gripped the quarter in his hand so hard that the ridges around the outside imprinted themselves into his palm. It had to be some kind of joke that the toss of a coin could do this to Nick, the most decent person that Warrick ever met. Warrick knew all about betting and percentages. One coin, two sides, a fifty-fifty chance, even odds, pure luck. It wasn’t right.

Warrick was the fuck up. The CSI with two years of experience that still let Holly Gribbs die. The dumb college kid who picked up an addiction to gambling that put him in the pocket of a crooked judge. The hothead that drove a grieving father to kill an innocent man. So why wasn’t he in that box instead of Nick? Nick, who never did nothing to nobody, and yet never caught a break.

This is Warrick’s guilt talking. He doesn’t dwell on his mistakes very often, but Nick’s situation makes him drudge all that up again.

Nicky does get the shaft quite often. In the course of five seasons he has had a stalker and been held at gun point when he figured out who the real killer was, and now he's buried alive?

It was Nicky in hell, trapped by a lunatic for no other reason than Warrick picked heads. He let the coin fall out of his hand and kept walking.

“Hey, you dropped your quarter.”

Warrick turned around and saw Sophia bending down to pick it up. Her long blonde hair was held fast in a tight, simple bun near her neck. She wore casual jeans, a sweater, tennis shoes and no make up. She must have had the day off and come in when she heard what happened.

“I don’t want it,” he answered. “It’s bad luck.”

Sophia grinned. “That’s only pennies.” She grabbed the quarter and handed it to him. “Besides, it was on heads. That’s good luck. And we need all the good luck we can get.”

“I guess so,” Warrick said as he accepted it. He studied Washington’s face staring up at him and then shoved it back in his pocket.

Sophia continued down the hall. “I have to get to Trace. I’m trying to make sense of that Styrofoam cup.”

“Good luck,” Warrick said.

“Yeah, you too.”

He shook his head, though he knew she couldn’t see him. “I've got all of that I can take.”

I knew this scene had to happen, but there was a problem. All of my characters were already doing something at this point. So I brought in Sophia, because it made sense over the course of the narrative, and also because she doesn’t know Warrick very well, and therefore doesn’t notice that he’s genuinely upset.

Yeah...I can see that she wouldn't get that Warrick's upset. Being thrown into the team so suddenly last season she didn't really take the time to get to know any of them very well. Most of her time was spent flirting with Grissom.
--

Warrick walked into the locker room to put away his coat. They had arrived back from the warehouse about twenty minutes before, but Grissom caught him on the way in and questioned him about the prototype box Catherine, Greg and him found.

He was surprised when he found Greg there, sitting on the bench with the lights off, his legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees.

I love this image. Greg’s hair is also sticking out in messy, gelled up clumps around his head, and his t-shirt is pulling against his narrow shoulders, but I couldn’t add that in, because it’s not something Warrick would think to comment on.

“Greg?” he questioned.

Greg jumped, legs sliding off the bench and landing on the floor with a thump. “Oh, hey.”

Not one to waste an opportunity, Warrick sat down next to him to apologize for ragging on him earlier. The last thing he needed was more guilt festering inside him. At the rate he was going, he’d suffocate faster than Nick. That last thought made him cringe and run his hand through his hair.

“Look, man, I’m really…” he started, but Greg waved his apology away.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, I can’t. I acted like a jerk. I’m just…so fucking scared, you know?”

Greg nodded and grinned without mirth. “Yeah, I know.”

The way he said it gave Warrick pause, and easy as that, the events of the last few hours twisted and locked into place. He’s got the information. Comparing connecting evidence and drawing conclusions to a puzzle is an image I’ll use again. Not particularly clever, but I like it. Judge Stokes called Greg son. Mrs. Stokes trusted him, and counted on him to bring Nick home. She couldn’t know that Greg had only worked as a CSI for a few months, or what kind of pressure that could put on someone so green. She couldn’t know what combining that with crazy worry about someone he cared for would do to him.

God, and here Warrick was pitying himself for winning that fucking coin toss, meanwhile Greg…

“I need something to do,” Greg said suddenly.

“What?”

“I need a…task. I need to do something.”

“You could stay with Archie and try…”

Warrick’s going to suggest that Greg work with Archie on figuring out where Nick’s feed is coming from. Greg cuts him off because he can’t watch Nick on that screen anymore without becoming sick, the way he just was a few minutes before Warrick walked into the locker room.

“Is anyone looking at the prototype?”

Warrick paused and stared at Greg. “I was about to,” he answered after a moment.

“I’ll do that,” Greg decided, “and you help Archie.”

“Sure. Hey, you all right, man?”

“I’m fine,” Greg responded over his shoulder on the way out the door.

“Yeah,” Warrick said out loud to the empty locker room, thinking about him and Greg and all the others, “picture that.” I love when he says, “Picture that” on the show. Sara does too, and that’s why she uses it at the end. Like she says once, “[Warrick] rubs off on you.”

I think that Warrick taking the time to sit down with Greg and talk fits in well. It reminds me of the episode where the child is found in a big container and he calls Greg to check on him.

--

The EMTs converged on Nick the moment the dust settled, checking his vitals and making sure he hadn’t lapsed into anaphylactic shock from the fire ant bites. Little whimpers of pain and fear wrenched from Nick’s throat as he laid still and let them work.

Warrick watched as Catherine fell to her knees at Nick’s side, dust billowing around her, and calmed his panic with her patient, confident voice. Grissom stood above the mass of huddled bodies like some sort of avenging angel; feet planted, arms crossed and face etched with stubborn determination.

This is probably one of my favorite paragraphs that I’ve ever written. The image of Catherine dropping unceremoniously to her knees, dust settling everywhere, and Grissom standing over it all is so clear in my head. It also reinforces the Catherine/Grissom parental relationship with the other characters that I believe exists. I’m trying to show that with Grissom there, watching over what’s happening, Warrick feels safe. He trusts that Grissom will take care of everything, in the same way that a boy trusts his father.

Finally, he couldn’t observe anymore, the combination of relief, horror and gut churning guilt too much for him to handle. He stumbled a couple of feet deeper into the nursery, bent over and wretched, images of Nicky covered in fire ants and holding that gun under his chin invading his mind.

He hadn’t eaten all day, so all that came up was water and acidic bile that burned his throat and puddled in the dirt. It felt good to get rid of it, like a physical catharsis.

As the last empty heaves left his body, he felt a hand cup the back of his neck. Slanting his eyes to the left revealed Sara’s long, jean-clad legs beside him. Her other hand brought a bottle of water into his field of vision.

“Thanks,” he said as he reached for the bottle and straightened up. Her hand slipped from his neck down to rest on his lower back. He could feel the heat of it warming his terror-frozen body through his shirt and vest.

“Sure,” she responded.

He twisted the cap off of the bottle and took a mouthful of water, swishing it around in his mouth, getting rid of the taste of vomit and the sting of acid, and then spit it out on the ground. He did that one more time before finishing the rest of it in one deep swallow.

Looking at Sara for the first time, he frowned.

“It’s over,” he said when he recognized her expression.

Her hand tightened into a fist against his back, clutching the material of his shirt. “No,” she replied softly, her sorrowful brown eyes almost black with emotion. “It’s barely even started.”

Ahhh, the Sara/Warrick scene. My original draft of this moment was longer, a little sexier and full of angst, but I cut that out because I didn’t think it was appropriate. It took away from the focus of the story, that being Greg’s reaction to Nick’s capture. So unfortunately, this scene ends rather abruptly. I also wanted to show that for how single-minded and stoic she is, Sara loves both Warrick and Nick (though in very different ways). (How many adverbs can Steph cram in to her commentary here, I ask questioningly) Oh, shut up.

I think it's better as a shorter scene because it gets across Warrick's relief at finding Nick, but Sara's insight that despite finding him the situation as a whole is far from over.

--

The EMTs lifted Nick onto a stretcher and began strapping him in. Warrick looked over at Greg who watched them work with blank eyes.

“Greg, do you want to…” he motioned at the ambulance.

Greg jerked his head once in negation. “No, I’ll follow. You go.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he answered. He wrapped his arms around his chest and clutched his elbows in a defensive gesture.

“All right, man,” Warrick agreed, not wanting to anger him, and also needing to be in that ambulance, to be close to Nick, as a way to assuage his guilt.

He jumped into the vehicle and clutched Nick’s hand carefully when it reached up.

“We got you, buddy, we got you.”

Nick said something, lips moving, but his voice inaudible. Warrick lowered his head to hear. “Say it again?”

“Greg,” Nick repeated, the word more breath against Warrick’s cheek than actual sound.

Warrick frowned and sat back. “He’s coming. He’s following us. Gonna take you to the hospital and get you all patched up. I’ll be whipping your ass in basketball again in no time.”

“…taller…” Nick rasped out, his voice a little stronger.

“Height ain’t got nothin’ to do with it,” Warrick responded. “It’s all about skill.”

Nick let out a shaky chuckle that made Warrick sick with relief. Beside him, he heard Catherine shudder out a loud, wet-sounding breath. Nick winced and jerked when one of the EMTs stuck a needle in his arm.

Nick’s joking and laughing with Warrick more from shock than because he’s ok. Warrick and Cath don’t realize this though. They’re just happy to have him alive.

While Catherine talked him down from the pain, Warrick thought about being a CSI. After seven years, he somehow forgot that the vic isn’t the only person affected by a crime. Warrick looked at spouses, parents and friends and saw only motive and suspects and opportunity. A grieving husband’s behavior was evidence, his tears often a lie to hide the truth.

Nicky never forgot though. When he looked at that same grieving husband, he saw pain, loss. He always worried about the people. More proof that Nick’s stronger than Warrick would ever be. After this, he sure as hell would never neglect the human element again. He’d try to be a better man. After this, he’d try to be more like Nick.

--

An hour or so later, the doctors stabilized Nick and the group of people in the waiting room was allowed to see him. Nick’s parents went first, and Judge Stokes returned fifteen minutes later to let them in.

Everyone jumped out of their seats and made for the door. Only because he was looking for it did he notice Greg, uncharacteristically silent the whole hour, break away from the group and head the other way down the hall. For someone so often the center of attention, commanding all eyes his way with those loud patterned shirts and that ever-changing hair, Greg did a good job making like Houdini and disappearing when he felt like it.

“Making like Houdini and disappearing…” That’s my attempt at Warrick-speak. Feel free to flog me at will. (And I refuse to be blamed as the beta, as she knew that I have no freaking clue about characters…it used to be so simple when she wrote Nsync fanfic…)

Your attempt at Warrick speak is perfect. His line is corny, just like the puns the CSI writers come up with.

In the room, Nick looked much better. He had calmed down, probably due to the IV in the arm farthest from the door, doped to the gills on morphine. They’d washed away the dirt and blood and cleaned the bites too. They still looked disgusting, clustering all over his skin, bright red and bulbous. Warrick didn’t want to think about how Nick would feel when the drugs wore off.

Catherine, Grissom, Sara and Warrick all lined up at the bed to speak to Nick. Catherine and Sara both kissed his cheek, and Grissom even looked a little misty eyed. Warrick knew that what went down between the two of them before they opened the lid on the box affected Grissom in a serious way.

When it was Warrick’s turn, Nick bent his arm at the elbow and Warrick clasped his hand. Warrick feared he’d let loose all the things that went through his mind today. How much he respected Nick. How he loved him like a brother. How it should have been Warrick in that box. How jacked up this whole situation was.

Instead, Nick spoke first, his face serious, his voice hoarse.

“Thanks for the save, bro.”

Warrick closed his eyes against the memory of Nicky pushed to his limit, gun against his throat, end of the line. He tightened his grip on Nick’s hand. Warrick can close his eyes all he wants, but that image is going to be stuck there for a long, long time.

“Anytime, man.”

Warrick stepped back. Getting over the emotional first greetings seemed to lighten everyone’s spirits, because Mrs. Stokes let out a small laugh that her husband echoed. Catherine began telling Nick about putting the old team back together, not bothered for the moment about the demotion that would entail for her. Grissom contested something she said, and the two of them began that married couple bickering they always did. Again, Catherine and Grissom as parents. Sara met his eyes and her lips spread into an honest-to-god-gap-toothed-Tina-who grin that he couldn’t help but return. I had to somehow acknowledge that Warrick has a girlfriend in this episode, so that line was it—both an acknowledgment and a dismissal of Tina. Who could have known she’d end up so important?

“Nicky, do you need something?” Mrs. Stokes asked.

Warrick looked back at the bed and saw Nick’s eyes darting around the room. Immediately, Warrick knew what—or rather who—Nick’s eyes searched for in the little room packed with people.

“No, I’m fine. I just…has anyone seen Greg?”

Catherine frowned. “He was outside waiting with us. I don’t know where he went.”

“He’s probably at the vending machines or something. I’ll go take a look,” Warrick said.

He walked out of the room and spotted Greg down the hall, pacing around a row of uncomfortable plastic chairs. He saw Warrick approaching and sat down wearily in the one closest to him.

“Where’ve you been?” Warrick asked when he reached him.

“Getting some coffee,” Greg replied, his head falling against the back of the seat.

“This hospital start serving Blue Hawaiian?” Warrick questioned.

Greg shrugged. “Figured I couldn’t be picky.”

“Nick’s asking for you. Now. And on the ambulance ride over.”

Greg froze for a moment and then turned to face Warrick. “He must be delusional.”

“No,” Warrick argued, and then sighed. “Look, G. I get what your problem is. Well, not ‘get,’ but I see where you’re coming from. Still, whatever your issues are, deal with them later. Right now is about Nick, and he asked for you.”

Greg put his face in his hands and didn’t respond for a long time. Then, he pushed himself out of his seat and nodded.

“You’re right, let’s go.”

Greg feels so guilty and useless. He doesn’t want to face Nick and know that he couldn’t help him, no matter how hard he tried.

--

As they walked into the room, Nick’s voice trailed off mid-sentence. His eyes focused on Greg who stood beside Warrick with his hands shoved in his pockets and his red eyes trained back at Nick.

The others followed Nick’s stare, the room’s roar of voices dimming to a murmur and then finally tapering off into silence. Warrick observed Grissom’s knowing gaze as he looked back and forth between Nick and Greg. Catherine and Sara flanked Grissom on either side. As Warrick watched, the puzzle clicked into place for Catherine (CSI work as puzzle. Told you it would happen again), the evidence of Greg’s behavior throughout the day bringing her to the correct conclusions. Sara just looked confused, but then, Warrick thought with fondness, she probably hadn’t noticed anything except the case from the time when Nick first went missing until they ripped him out of the ground. God, Warrick has such a crush on her. He’s probably wanted her since they tore up that apartment together.

He also saw three women, who hadn’t been there when he left, clustered together in a corner, arms linked, with the same brown hair and All-American good looks as Nick. The one in the middle appeared the most emotional of the bunch. Her mascara had smudged under her eyes, and her head rested on the shoulder of the woman to her left, whom Warrick assumed to be the oldest of the group due to the shiny strands of gray streaked through her braided hair. Next to them, Mrs. Stokes brought her handkerchief up to dab at her cheeks and swipe under her nose. Judge Stokes had an arm around his wife’s waist, his expression a cross between solemnity and stark relief.

More of Warrick observing everything, down to Nick’s oldest sister’s (Nancy, by the way) hair color.

The silence stretched on, pulled thin like his grandmother’s homemade taffy, while Greg became tenser with each passing second. Again, “pulled thin like his grandmother’s homemade taffy…” more of my lame attempt at Warrick-speak.

Finally, Nick managed a small smile and a weak, “Hey, Greggo.”

That seemed to be the catalyst Greg needed, because in three long strides he arrived at the edge of the bed. He grasped Nick’s hand, and his breath caught and pulled on a long, jagged sob.

“Shh, shh,” Nick soothed. His eyes were half shut and distant with the strength of the painkillers, and his voice came out a whisper, barely audible. “I’m ok. You did good.”

Warrick again felt blown away by Nick’s inherent selflessness. The comment only served to further upset Greg, though, causing his gasping, shallow breaths to quicken and tears to slip down his face. Through his soft cries, Warrick could make out a repetition of Nick’s name.

Greg’s free hand traced desperately over the features of Nick’s face, careful not to aggravate the fire ant bites. Nick’s eyes closed the rest of the way to let him.

“I thought I found you,” Greg choked out after a minute. “In the warehouse. But it was a dog. A fucking dog. I thought I found you…I thought…” Another angry, painful sounding sob followed a tremor that wracked his whole body.

This makes Warrick feel like even more of an asshole, because he was so rude to Greg at the warehouse, not knowing Greg was going crazy. (Wow, I totally didn’t get any of that. I just felt bad for Greg and wondered if he was really pretty. I now know that he *is* really pretty.) Oh Greg's so much more than pretty Mare...so much more. He really is.

Nick swallowed and opened his chapped lips slowly, eyes still closed, head tilted towards Greg. “You did find me.”

Greg shook his head and then pressed a kiss to the scratched and swollen hand in his. “No, not me. Catherine. Warrick. Not me.”

Greg’s inexperienced and stupid and there is nothing he could do. Nothing helped. God, why the fuck was Nick even WITH him?

Out of the corner of his eye, Warrick noticed Judge Stokes ushering his family out the door, Catherine and Grissom following suit. Sara stayed frozen at the edge of the bed watching the display in front of her, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. Despite everything, the sight made Warrick smile.

He walked over to her and put his arm around her narrow shoulders. “Come on,” he whispered in her ear. “We’ll go to the cafeteria and I’ll tell you all about it.”

She glanced up at him and nodded, a little grin twitching the corners of her mouth, before looking back at the bed to see Greg running his hand through Nick’s short hair.

“Picture that,” she said in wonderment, and it surprised a snicker from Warrick that went unheard by the other two occupants in the room. She says this to pull the laugh out of Warrick, and it works.

They headed out of the room. Warrick turned to close the door and saw Nick shifting over to one side, mindful of the IV in his arm, and Greg crawling into the bed beside him. He shut the door.

No declarations of love or excess sappiness. This story and the episode were angsty enough without exacerbating it with mushy romance words. The last thing we see is Warrick closing the door on them, because he respects their privacy and won’t intrude himself on their moment.

And damn Steph because after I finished beta’ing this damn story, I asked, “So where can I find more Nick and Greg stuff? Do I have to like…have seen the show…to read this stuff? Damn her! It also compelled her to watch GD (she was the only person in the U.S. who hadn’t. I consider that a victory.

But y’all should be grateful to me. Steph tried to put in a line like, “Oh cuddly bear, you are my ESSENCE.” But I nixed it. Yes, that’s what happened after the door closed. Oh see I would've loved to have seen the version of this story with the cuddly bear line...I mean really, who doesn't want to hear that?

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