Lost & Found Part 3

The next day, Nick decided it was about time he told Dr. Werne that Warrick was more than a mere friend and roommate. Rather than being surprised, she simply flipped back a few pages in her notes where she already had some questions prepared. After that, the session became one of the most uncomfortable Nick had ever sat through.

When she tried to ascertain whether Warrick was pressuring his recovery, Nick was able to answer honestly that Warrick had done everything possible to be supportive. In addition to wondering whether Werne had picked up on his need to move things other than his recovery along more quickly, Nick admitted--reluctantly, and only to himself--that in some ways he was pressuring Warrick unduly.

Dr. Werne could sense there was more than Nick was saying, and continued to press in that gentle but insistent manner she had. Nick did his best to duck the questions, not wanting to tell her about behavior his now felt ashamed of. Not that he was seriously pushing Warrick, but he knew Warrick had reasons for going slow--even if he wasn't sure what they were--yet he continued to provoke whenever possible. All just to prove--what? That Warrick cared? He already knew that. Would going any farther physically at this point really strengthen what was already there?

This was definitely something he didn't want to mention to Dr. Werne, since he was fairly certain she would be in complete agreement with Warrick.

As he drove home, Nick couldn't help reflecting that in some ways he might very well be sabotaging his recovery himself. He knew he should be discussing all these other things with Dr. Werne, but rarely strayed too far from the subject of his actual memories if he could help it. He resolved to be more forthcoming with her from now on, even though he'd already told her more things about himself than he'd ever expected. He also resolved to grant Warrick the courtesy of respecting his boundaries--or at least to try.

It definitely wasn't going to be easy. Nick realized that the moment he walked through the door and had to fight not to make a beeline for the sofa where Warrick was reading through several case files.

"How'd it go?" Warrick looked up from his open folder.

"It went," Nick shrugged out of his jacket. "I guess they can't all be enlightening." Or at least not enlightening the way you want them to be. He went to the kitchen to grab a drink and when he emerged, Warrick was fiddling with the security pad. Nick sighed--he never thought to do it, but obviously it was important to Warrick. "Getting caught up?" he asked when Warrick was settled on the sofa again.

"Just trying to stay on top of things."

One thing Nick was determined not to do was to interfere with Warrick's work, so he walked over to his desk, picked up a sheaf of papers at random and began going through them as though he had something to do. He didn't know if it would fool Warrick, but after a minute his pretend search became the real thing when it occurred to him that the bill for the repaired shower still had to be paid. He wouldn't put it past Warrick to pay it himself in order to save him any trouble. Nick knew he had put the bill on the desk, but might have been shuffled under some other papers--his corner desk was the one area of disorder in his normally neat home.

He took another set of papers and began flipping through them. "Hey, Warrick, do you know where the--"

When his eyes fell on the crayon drawing, Nick's first thought was that it was from a niece or nephew--Michaela, maybe? But the words "Thanks for finding me" suggested otherwise. He opened the card and reading the words inside. "From: Cassie To: Good Guys About: Bad Guys" brought a smile to his face even though the name Cassie didn't bring anyone immediately to mind.

Where's my family? In that same childish scrawl.

Nick's smile faded and he turned the card over, half expecting to see the words there.

Nothing.

I'm ten years old Don't baby me!!!

Her eyes. Such big, beautiful eyes that shouldn't have contained such horrible sadness.

Gradually he became aware of a warm hand resting lightly on his back. "She was the bravest little thing," he said, and Warrick's hand began to move in small circles. "Even after I told her about her family, even though her throat must have hurt so bad, she still went over the whole thing when I asked her."

"Cassie McBride," Warrick murmured in acknowledgment.

"When I found her on the shore, she was...god, she was so pale that for a minute I thought we were too late after all."

"Not 'we,'" Warrick corrected. "It was all you, Nicky. You saved her life."

"I couldn't give up on her," Nick managed, his throat suddenly tight. "All I could think was what if you guys had given up on me? If there was even the slightest chance, I had to keep trying."

"I know."

Nick could feel his warm breath and tilted his head slightly in that direction, relieved when he felt Warrick's cheek against his hair. "I hate cases with kids," he sighed.

"I know," Warrick said again.

Realizing that was a dumb thing to say, Nick tried to clarify, "I mean, I know everyone does, but--" He stopped when he felt lips press against his temple and allowed his thoughts to drift back to the McBride case. What a shame the rest of his memories couldn't be recovered in this manner.

"What made you remember Cassie?" Warrick asked after several minutes of silence.

"Seeing the card."

"You mean you weren't here looking for the card?"

"No, I was looking for the repair bill for the shower."

"Oh," Warrick slid his hand down to Nick's waist. "I wrote a check for that already."

Nick couldn't help laughing and leaned against Warrick slightly.

"What's so funny?"

"I was worried you'd do that. I wanted to get to the bill so you wouldn't have to."

"Ah, it's no problem," Warrick assured him. "These past few weeks I've really racked up the overtime."

"And I'm getting a paycheck even though I'm not working," Nick countered, then snorted. "Get my money for nothing."

"Hey, Nicky," Warrick sounded amused. "If you're aiming for hip and cool, don't quote songs from 1985."

"So am I usually?" Nick turned to look at him.

"What?"

"Hip and cool."

"Nope," Warrick grinned.

Nick laughed again and moved closer for a kiss, almost involuntarily. Warrick shifted and pressed his lips to Nick's forehead instead, making Nick smile in spite of himself.

"I've got to finish going over those case files," Warrick finally said.

"Okay," Nick started to pull away, but Warrick's arm tightened.

"C'mon and sit with me, okay? I don't..." Warrick hesitated and actually sounded embarrassed. "I'd rather have you nearby right now. Just sit and chill for a little bit."

When he put it like that, Nick would have happily agreed to anything. That it just happened to be the very thing he wanted as well was icing on the cake. For the next hour, Nick sifted through his memories of the McBride case while leaning comfortably against Warrick. His only worry was keeping Warrick away from his case, but Warrick seemed to be able to concentrate just fine with one arm around him. Either that, or the guy had taken his poker face to a whole new level.

Eventually, Nick decided to do something about supper before Warrick suggested take-out yet again. "Food" was all he said when Warrick protested his leaving, then got up to check the fridge. There were some nice cuts of tenderloin he'd bought a few days before and he wondered briefly how they'd be barbecued, before laughing and beginning a search of his cupboards. The sole contribution Brett had made to his culinary education was to advise always having Shake-n-Bake on hand. "Coat that stuff on anything and it'll become edible--lasts forever, too."

Shake. And. Bake.

Nick froze.

Positional asphyxia...Heat damage.....I'd say this kid was in a small, hot space for quite a while. Closet with a radiator, boiler room...

He was with Dr. Robbins, looking down at a young boy. Y-incision on his chest, bluish hue to his skin, and his hair...a head full of thick, unruly waves that must have driven the kid's--Chase, Chase Ryan--Chase's mother up the wall.

Locked in a dryer at the laundromat by his best friend--just a couple of kids looking for something new and fun.

What a pointless waste.

Just another day in paradise.

He put the box back in the cupboard and searched the fridge for barbecue sauce instead.

Nick talked about Chase as they ate supper, but didn't mention his growing dread that he was going to be remembering cases centered around children for the rest of the night. If Warrick knew that, he'd likely stay home, and Nick didn't want him to miss work over memories that, although bad, were probably not going to be especially traumatic.

Already he was remembering another youth--with blond hair instead of brown--in the morgue. He'd been discussing the case with David Phillips, not Dr. Robbins. Throughout the evening, the idea nagged at him that this youth somehow fell in between Cassie McBride and Chase Ryan in his frame of reference. He would have asked Warrick if it was chronological, but there was no way to know that until he had a name. He didn't think it was something as simple as that, anyway.

It remained at the back of his mind, an annoyance, and only came to him about a half-hour after Warrick left for work.

I am Alexei.

He flopped down on the sofa with a sigh. That didn't tell him why Alexei fit between Cassie and Cha--

He'd only seen Chase dead.

He'd only seen Cassie alive.

He'd seen Alexei...alive and dead.

Dead in the morgue, but alive...alive where?

A jolt went through him, leaving him nauseous. This was definitely going to be a bad one. Instead of feeling his way along the memory as he'd been doing, Nick picked up a copy of Sports Illustrated and started reading. If the memory was going to come, it was going to come, but in the meantime, he needed a break.

He was just about to toss the magazine aside--he couldn't concentrate enough to read--when he remembered.

The Dead Mountains.

He'd met Alexei in the desert, out by the Dead Mountains. It was the middle of nowhere, and there was no reason for a teenager to be wandering around, so what had Alexei been doing out there? For that matter, what the hell had he been doing out there? Nick frowned, realizing he'd been in the area more than once.

You're trespassing.

Trespassing? On someone's land? But whose land?

Terror slithered through the marrow of his bones.

Nick knew he wasn't going to be following that memory. Every instinct he had screamed not to go there. Not that name. Not now.

Once his heart had slowed back down to its regular pace, Nick tried to figure out what was so terrible. Three guys had roughed him up pretty good out there, but that wasn't what had prompted the sickening fear.

There were no other memories nudging him at the moment, much to Nick's relief. He had enough to sort through already. Meeting Alexei and getting the crap beat out of him had been two separate occasions, both of them would need some clarifying.

But not right now. Right now Nick didn't even want to employ the brainpower it would to look through the magazine again. Instead, he grabbed the remote and turned his television on. He flipped through a few dozen channels before giving up. Not a thing to watch on how many channels?

A hundred and fifty.

Nick turned the television off.

He turned on his laptop, and with half-hearted attempts at Sudoku, chess and several other games, managed to distract him for nearly two hours. It was in the midst of a puzzle game that two memories suddenly snapped together for Nick.

The bruised ribs he'd remembered in Dallas. That had been a result of the beating in the desert. Setting the computer aside, Nick leaned back and closed his eyes. Warrick had wanted him to go to the hospital, but Nick had convinced him they probably weren't cracked.

Wait. He had cracked them.

And sprained his wrist, too.

But...he hadn't sprained his wrist in the desert. He'd sprained his wrist when--

Nick's eyes flew open and he stared at the ceiling as fear gripped him again. Dammit, he hated this. What the hell was he afraid of? He had a state-of-the-art security system--

--that he hadn't turned back on after Warrick left.

Jumping up, he hurried to the keypad and punched the code, hating that his hand shook a little. He felt compelled to keep checking the ceiling, but didn't know why. He couldn't bring himself to sit down again, preferring to pace.

The night seemed endless.

He had a pressing need to keep moving from one room to the next. If he felt like sitting, a quick glance at the ceiling convinced him that was a bad idea. He checked the security system nearly every twenty minutes and felt like an idiot each time. One thing he managed not to do was call Warrick. He was not going to be responsible for Warrick ditching the job mid-shift, and he knew that was exactly what would happen if Warrick suspected something was up.

Seven o'clock couldn't come fast enough.

But just before seven, Warrick called to say he was stuck at a scene in Boulder City and would probably be working a double. He was definitely not happy about it, so Nick assured him that there was no problem. It didn't seem like Warrick believed him, but they both knew there was nothing to be done.

After he hung up, Nick found that he actually felt a little steadier. There hadn't been any more memories for over an hour, so they were probably finished for the time being. Since Warrick wouldn't be home for a while and he was exhausted after his long night, sleep seemed like his best option.

When he got called to a scene in Boulder City, Warrick knew he was looking at overtime and when he got to the scene and saw the mess, he realized he was probably pulling a double. To say he was pissed off would have been an extreme understatement.

That was probably the reason Catherine had gone out with him herself instead of putting someone else in the line of fire. Warrick was less likely to take his frustration out on her. It had always been that way and she knew it.

It wasn't so much that she was his superior--he certainly never had a problem squaring off with Ecklie; nor was it the fact that she was a woman--he'd tangled with Sara more than anyone else on graveyard. No, it was simply that she was Catherine. She was his boss, his friend, and there had been times when they both thought she might be more. They'd supported each other, flirted with each other, nagged, teased and tiptoed around each other, but rarely had they actually fought. Besides, he had seen Catherine pissed off often enough to know it was something he wanted to avoid if possible.

Catherine obviously knew what was up and didn't bat an eye when he stepped away from the scene around seven to make a personal call. She even asked "How's Nick?" when he returned.

"Fine," Warrick replied, even though Nick hadn't sounded fine. Sure Nick had said there was no problem, but Warrick could hear the strain in his voice and suspected the memories were worse than he'd expected. That still didn't change the fact that he was stuck out here, so there was really no point in mentioning it.

But he wasn't fooling Catherine any more than Nick had fooled him.

"I called Greg. He should be here in a couple of hours and you can take off."

Guilt and gratitude warred within him. "Look, Cath--"

"Don't worry about it. I wouldn't have roped you in if I'd known Greg was going to be free. He's actually been looking for more overtime." She flashed him a grin, "It took nearly two years, but I think that paycut is starting to catch up with him."

Relaxing, Warrick returned the grin, "I'll get the rest of the doors printed before I go."

Greg made good time and arrived in just over an hour. Warrick filled him in, then with a slap on his shoulder and a wave to Catherine, he headed for the Denali.

Arriving to a silent house was a bit unexpected. Not that he expected Nick to have breakfast waiting, since Nick thought he was working a double, but he had hoped to be able to surprise the Texan by getting back early.

Warrick headed for his room to change and as he passed Nick's, he noticed the blinds were drawn. Quietly, he walked inside, able to see Nick on the bed by the light from the open door. He went in a bit further and was struck by the utter stillness of Nick's sprawled form. The memories must have been much worse than Nick had let on. Despite the dim light, Warrick could tell how drawn the handsome face was. Carefully, he sat on the edge of the bed, stifling a frustrated sigh. Of course Nick would never actually ask anyone to help him through it.

Just as he was about to leave again, Nick shifted and let out a murmur of distress. Warrick kept as still as possible, waiting to see if Nick calmed again. Instead, the dark eyes opened slightly.

"Hey," Warrick said softly, and smiled when Nick looked at him through half-open eyes.

"Hey," Nick gave a little smile of his own. "You watchin' me sleep?"

The instant those word left his mouth, Nick's expression changed. His eyes opened wide and focused intently on the ceiling.

"Nick?"

"Who..? Why...are you watching me sleep?"

For a split-second Warrick wondered if Nick was even talking to him.

Nick was still looking up, his only movement was to pull the blankets higher and closer. "How many holes?"

Warrick looked up as well and finally caught on. "None. You've moved since then, Nicky."

Nick closed his eyes again and his face contorted slightly. With a jerky motion, he pushed himself up on his elbows. "Where is he? Where's..." Another glance up. "What was...Nigel. Where is he?"

"He's still locked up, Nick," Warrick said firmly. "Will be for a long time."

"I never understood why," Nick frowned, sitting up straighter after another quick glance toward the ceiling. "I think...Grissom--Grissom explained it, but didn't ring true. It didn't connect with what...with the way Nigel was when we...I remember thinking--" Abruptly Nick stopped, drawing his knees up and resting his arms on them as a shudder ran through his body. Then, before Warrick could offer any comfort, Nick threw back the covers and got up so quickly he collided with Warrick's larger frame.

Warrick caught him by the shoulders and slid one hand over to cup the back of his neck. "Easy. Just breathe, okay?"

"What time is it, anyway? I must have been out for a while."

"Not really. It's just a little after ten. Cath cut me loose as soon as she could."

Nick looked troubled by that information, so Warrick smoothed his other hand along Nick's back. The sensation of warm skin under his palm was just too much to resist, and Warrick wrapped both arms around Nick, pulling him close.

Nick resisted slightly, "I'm okay. You don't have to--"

"Humor me," Warrick murmured.

With another shiver, Nick relaxed against him. "I don't gamble a lot, do I?"

"Uh...no," Warrick asked, wondering where that came from or if a memory about his gambling was just around the corner.

"Good, because I obviously have lousy luck."

Oh. Warrick didn't say anything. It certainly wasn't a statement that could be denied.

Nick sighed, "I wonder if there was anything I could have said to him. Maybe if I'd--"

"Hey," Warrick tightened his hold. "You were right the first time, okay? It's bad luck--terrible luck, and there's nothing you could have done about it, okay?"

"Yeah," Nick agreed, although he didn't sound entirely convinced.

Warrick brushed his lips across Nick's hair, "I'll just go get changed, then I can stay as long as you need me to, okay?"

Nick stilled briefly, then abruptly pulled out of the embrace. "That's fine. You should probably grab breakfast or something."

"What about you?" Warrick asked, wondering why things had suddenly slid off balance.

"Not hungry. I don't need breakfast. I don't need you to stay. I just need some more sleep." Nick settled back under the covers without bothering to look at him.

Warrick felt bereft and bewildered--one minute he'd been holding a wonderfully warm armful and now that armful was giving him a blatant brush-off. "Nick, what..?"

"Didn't you hear me? I don't need breakfast and I don't need you to stay. And I definitely don't need you here out of a sense of obligation."

"You gotta be kidding me!" Warrick quickly reigned in his anger, telling himself Nick had so much to deal with that it was bound to make him testy. "You think I would be here if it wasn't exactly where I wanted to be?" he asked, leaning in a bit closer. "Are you seriously going to argue semantics?"

Nick turned on his back and finally met Warrick's eyes. "I just don't want you to think I can't handle this. Because I can, okay? I don't need you to keep the boogeyman away."

"Okay, I get it," Warrick assured him. "You don't need me to stay. Do you want me to stay?"

"Of course I do, but--"

"Then why the hell are you givin' me so much trouble about it?"

"Because I--"

"Nick," Warrick's patience was beginning to fray. "I got it. You can handle it all by your lonesome. Fine. Who says you have to?"

"I just--" Nick's chest rose and fell in a deep sigh. "Sorry."

"Nah," Warrick bent to brush his lips along Nick's in an effort to reassure them both. "I'll be back in a few, okay?"

Nick nodded, but his expression didn't change. Warrick tried to chalk it up to a night of such intense memories, but didn't feel any more convinced than Nick looked.

There was no reason he couldn't visit the crime lab, Nick decided, although it would probably be a good idea to wear long sleeves and keep attention away from his stitches. They were due to be taken out in another few days and although the doctor had done an excellent job to keep the stitches small and the scarring to a minimum, at the moment they still looked ghastly.

Several people had asked when he was going to stop by, but Nick had held off, not sure what sort of memories might be prompted by a visit. Now, though, a visit seemed like a welcome distraction. It was certainly preferable to the constant circles his mind kept going in about the situation with Warrick.

His thoughts had been traveling that same circle so many times that they'd worn a familiar groove and getting out of that groove was becoming harder and harder.

More than anything, Nick wanted to be with Warrick; whenever possible, as much as possible, and however possible. And it would probably take little more than a single request for him to have just that. No doubt Warrick would keep as much or as little distance as Nick needed.

Semantics or not, Nick was really beginning to hate that word.

So while Nick was trying to get as close to Warrick as possible, at the same time, he was trying to rely on Warrick as little as possible. In another spectacular irony, Nick knew that those damn memories which were making Warrick so protective were also the reason Warrick didn't want to let things get too involved. When the memories were difficult, Warrick would get as close as possible in order to help, but the moment Nick insisted he was fine, Warrick would back off.

Did Warrick want him as a clingy weakling? Nick knew he hadn't been that before and couldn't bring himself to believe Warrick would prefer him as one.

To make matters worse, all of these unsettling emotions only made the memories less likely to emerge and more difficult to deal with when they did. Every time Warrick saw that, he leaned more toward that caretaker role Nick did not want him to assume. It was hindering his recovery and making it more difficult to convince Warrick to intensify their relationship, separate from the memories and trauma. Making it more difficult to convince Warrick they should be together simply because they belonged together.

Of course, if he did that and all started to go well, then the worst memories would probably emerge, possibly sending everything he was trying to save straight to hell. That wasn't just a circle, it was a damn Mobius band twisting in and around itself.

Taking a step off that well-worn path to visit the lab was definitely one of the better ideas he'd had in a while.

Nick mentioned dropping by the lab to Warrick in the most non-commital manner he could, leaving it up in the air without actually saying when he was planning to visit. Then he left a couple of hours into the shift when the CSIs were most likely to be out at their scenes. He didn't like the idea of avoiding Warrick, but he also didn't want Warrick shadowing him through the building.

As he walked into the building, Nick was surprised to find how familiar the layout was to him. He'd recovered many memories about the lab, but like most of his memories, they tended to center on people rather than places. He was by the front desk, wondering which way to go first and whether he should have called ahead to check if it was a busy night when Bobby Dawson strolled by.

After a handshake and a quick hug, Bobby marched him off for a tour. Nick didn't mind, because Bobby's manner wasn't that of someone staying close to keep an eye on him, it seemed more that Bobby was happy to be the one to pop his head into the labs with and announce--"look who's here." Even though Nick kept his visits to each lab brief, not wanting to interrupt anyone's work, the tour took well over an hour. He spent fifteen minutes just in the A/V lab with Archie and then another twenty in trace listening to a litany of Hodges' complaints. After that it was Mandy in prints, Wendy in DNA, then a long chat with Super Dave when he dropped off some samples for Henry Andrews in tox and he had time for a quick visit with Ronnie in QD before Bobby installed him in the break room.

Nick spent the next several hours there, happily drinking bad coffee. He had a forensics journal handy to keep from getting bored, but never got around to reading more than a few pages. Number two crime lab in the country or not, no one was too busy to stop by the break room once they heard who was hanging out there.

Doc Robbins left the morgue when David told him Nick was in the lab. Although Nick initially found it unnerving being quizzed about his health by a coroner, Al's concern was so genuine that the idea didn't bother him for long.

Detectives who came to the lab looking for either CSIs or test results were told and all stopped by the break room. Sofia, Vartann and Vega each stayed for a cup of coffee, while Jim hauled Nick out of the lab for a quick donut run.

The only rough patch came after Nick met Bethany Fiveash, a new CSI from Phoenix there for the spot left by Hal Westbrook. Nothing unusual happened while they spoke, but after she had gone on her way, Nick began to remember picking up one of Westbrook's cases shortly after the man's heart attack. He'd made a special request for the case--for Alexei's case. A case he worked with Vartann, and one that involved Sylvia Mullins somehow. When he tried to follow the memory, his mind shied violently away and another jolt of fear lanced through him, leaving him shaken.

Fortunately, the memory wasn't a persistent one and he was able to pull himself together and shake it off before anyone noticed.

The rest of the time, Nick enjoyed himself so much that he would have been glad to spend every night ensconced there. As soon as he realized that, he decided to wait at least two weeks before coming by the lab again. Showing up like this too often would just be...sad. The visit brought home how much he was looking forward to returning to work, no matter how far away that day was.

He'd been there for a few hours when CSIs began returning, laden with evidence from their various cases. Grissom looked so surprised to see him that for a moment Nick wondered if he should even be there, but the entomologist joined him at the table and asked how he was doing. Inquiries about his well-being were something he was used to by now, but Nick couldn't shake the feeling that he was answering test questions. As much as he appreciated Grissom's interest, it was a relief when Catherine and Sara arrived.

Nick hadn't intended to stay for the entire shift, and he'd been there for nearly half of it. It was probably a good time to head home, he decided, somewhat reluctantly. Neither Warrick nor Greg was back from their scene, but next to Warrick, he saw Greg more than anyone, so it wasn't exactly a big deal to miss them at the lab. Another quick trip around, saying good-bye to those who weren't especially busy, and Nick was ready to climb in his Ranger and head home.

He was passing the short hall that led to the locker room just as Warrick and Greg were emerging. Warrick stopped in surprise, "Nick."

"Hi," Nick smiled, wondering how this was going to go.

"What..? Is something wrong?"

"No. I said I was going to stop by the lab and see everyone, remember?" Nick tried to keep his tone light, but doubted he was fooling Warrick.

Greg looked from one to the other. "I'll get this to trace," he told Warrick, then looked at Nick. "I'm coming by with the new game tomorrow, right?"

"Right," Nick agreed with a smile.

"Cool. Later," Greg hurried off as quickly as possible without actually running.

"You didn't mention you were stopping by tonight," Warrick said once they were alone.

"I just decided," Nick said, knowing Warrick wasn't going to buy it. "Well...yesterday." He hated the way is resolve to remain cool, calm and collected always crumbled around Warrick and he was reduced to that same moonstruck calf with his heart out for anyone to see. "I just didn't want to--well..." he trailed off with a shrug.

"Am I making things too crowded for you, Nicky?" Warrick asked quietly.

"No," Nick said quickly, because the last thing he wanted was more distance between them. "It's just that you were working and I thought if I was here you might--"

"--get distracted?"

Now Nick felt like an egotistical jerk. "That's not it either."

"You know whenever you want me to back off, all you have to do is say so."

"And if I want you to stop backing off?" Nick blurted. "Then what do I say?"

"Nick--"

"Sorry," Nick said quickly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to--look, I'm gonna head back."

"I'll grab us some breakfast on my way home, okay?"

"Okay."

Warrick gave his arm a squeeze, all he could really do since they were at work. "No overtime, I promise."

And they were back to the beginning of the circle.

Greg didn't mind that their crime scene in Pahrump turned out to be a false alarm. Instead of processing a missing person and possible homicide, they wound up finding a cheating wife. An extremely uncomfortable situation, but preferable to the alternative. What's more, now they didn't have to make the ninety-minute drive again, and they would have if it had been a serious case.

And while being stuck in a vehicle with Warrick wasn't the nerve-wracking experience it had been when Nick was in Texas, it wasn't a whole lot of fun lately, either. When Nick first returned, Warrick's mood improved dramatically, but now he'd grown quiet again. Nick, too, had seemed very unhappy for the past week or so. Enough that both Catherine and Sara had mentioned it. Greg knew that Nick had more to deal with than any of them could imagine, but he'd seen Nick in the aftermath of some of the nastier memories, and this was different. Nick was downhearted in a way he hadn't been since returning to Las Vegas.

A few days before, when Greg had been with Catherine, sifting through debris from an arson, she'd mentioned being worried that this might be too much for Warrick and Nick to overcome. Taking a chance, Greg had asked flat out if she though they would break up, earning himself a startled look and then a smile. They'd swapped stories about how and when they'd each found out and Greg had gotten a laugh when he told her about Warrick's phone call.

Almost immediately, Catherine began hinting that maybe Warrick needed to talk to someone and it had taken Greg a few minutes to realize she meant him. Just as quickly, he'd lobbed the ball back into her court, "You two are good friends."

"We are," she'd agreed. "But I'm also his supervisor. I'd be crossing a line."

Initially, Greg thought she'd suggested him because he was bi--something of an open secret--and although that had probably been part of it, what she said made good sense as well.

Technically, this drive was a perfect opportunity for him to poke around the subject, but they were already halfway back to Vegas and he still hadn't thought of a way to bring it up. A bit desperate for a stalling tactic, Greg suddenly remembered the old-fashioned diner that was the only break on this long stretch of highway. He wasn't sure why he thought he'd be more comfortable trying to talk about Nick to Warrick in a public place--maybe he wanted witnesses. He knew it wasn't likely Warrick would stop, but it was worth a try. "Hey, you want to grab some breakfast at that diner coming up? The one that looks right out of the fifties? I keep wondering what it's like inside."

"Yeah," Warrick agreed with a shrug. "Why not?"

Greg did his best to hide his surprise. True, it was only a half-hour past the time their shift normally ended, but it was the first time getting home didn't seem to be a top priority for Warrick. More than anything else, that told Greg something was wrong.

The diner--Baby Moxie's according to the neon sign outside--did not disappoint. Long and narrow, it had stainless steel, red vinyl and checkerboard trim on the inside to go along with the equally shiny exterior. An original from half a century earlier or a modern retro masterpiece, Greg didn't care--he liked the joint. Their waitress--Margo, according to her name tag--didn't have a beehive, but she did have a Jersey accent that put Jim Brass' to shame.

Warrick and Greg traded amused glances after she poured their coffee and handed them menus, then returned to the counter. Greg took a sip of the coffee and was pleasantly surprised--it wasn't anything fancy, but it was strong and fresh. Just like I like my women, he almost said, but considering what he wanted to discuss, it didn't seem appropriate.

Fortunately, though, Greg now had a way to lead up to his subject, and he didn't have to search for a lame excuse. "I was kinda surprised you agreed to stop."

"Then why did you suggest it?" Warrick asked without taking his eyes off the menu.

"Figured it was worth a shot. You're just usually so anxious to get home once your shift ends..." Greg let his voice trail off, hoping Warrick would pick up the thread.

"Yeah, well," Warrick was still studying his menu.

Well, he hadn't thought it would be that easy. "So Nick's doing better then? Because he seemed kinda...y'know. He hasn't been doing so good lately."

Warrick finally looked up with a frown.

"I was just wondering if you two were having problems," Greg said, and braced himself.

"What?"

Greg took a sip of coffee, wishing there was something a little stronger than sweetener in it. He reflected on how sad Nick had been lately, on how hard the Texan had been trying to hide it, and pressed on. "Something like this is bound to be hard on any relationship..." his voice died away when he was confronted with that fiery green gaze.

Just then, Margo arrived to take their order and Greg made a mental note to leave her a big tip for probably saving his neck. By the time they both ordered breakfast--or as Margo put it, "Stanny, sweep up the kitchen, both these guys are gonna take a chance, flop two with a zeppelin and wreck two with tropics on the side"--Warrick had calmed down a little. Or maybe he was worried about what they were being fed, because after hearing that, Greg was.

"Hey, is that why you nearly crashed the Denali a couple of weeks ago?"

"Nah," Greg couldn't help grinning. "I realized what was going on the night Nick got back." Warrick twitched a half-smile, which encouraged him to continue, "When did you guys get together, anyway?"

Warrick sobered immediately and he hesitated before replying. "Five days before Nick was abducted."

Greg felt the smile slide off his face, at a complete loss for words. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to hear, but it wasn't that. Uncertain what to say next, he fiddled with the napkin and cutlery Margo had set down.

"Has Nick said anything?" Warrick asked.

"About you guys? No. He just seems...I mean, when he first got back, you were both pretty happy, but--well, now you're both..."

"Some of Nick's memories are coming back," Warrick pointed out. "He's got a lot of stuff to deal with."

"I know that," Greg managed not to roll his eyes. Did Warrick honestly think he didn't know that? "That's why I'm starting to really worry about him--and you. Neither of you need any other problems to deal with. And Nick...well, he does have his doctor to talk to if he has to..." Which wasn't necessarily Greg's reason, but a viable excuse.

Warrick's eyebrows rose, "And you're sayin' I should unload on you?"

"I'm just saying if you want to...well, it's not like you'd have to break the news to me."

Margo arrived with their food which, despite her call-out, smelled delicious. Greg dug into what turned out to be the best beef hash he'd ever tasted--although he could practically hear his arteries clogging. It was up to Warrick whether this conversation would continue. Either he was willing to talk to the "lab boy" or not. If he wasn't, then no amount of pestering would change his mind and would only piss him off.

After several bites of food, Warrick finally said, "There's still a lot he doesn't remember."

Greg swallowed, "You mean he doesn't remember you guys? Because I gotta tell you, it sure seems like the two of you are--"

"He knows," Warrick nodded. "That is, the feelings are there, so he's figured it out, but he doesn't actually remember."

"Do you really think that means anything?" Greg frowned.

"Hey, I know there's a whole lot of other stuff he's got to handle..."

"Yeah, but if Nick knows you're together, since you are together, maybe..." Greg took a bite of cantaloupe while he tried to get a handle on the direction of his thoughts. "If you're together, then Nick's psyche or whatever, might figure that he doesn't need those memories as much. Since it's already a reality, y'know?"

"Huh," Warrick chewed his toast thoughtfully.

"Is that what the problem is? Because--"

"No. No, that was never really the problem."

Greg didn't say anything. He knew this had to be tough. Warrick was never one to talk much about his problems--especially when it came to relationships. Hell, he'd only heard about the guy's marriage twice--when it happened and when it ended.

"Nick has been--" Warrick smiled humorlessly. "I can't believe I'm telling you this, but Nick doesn't really..." Shaking his head, he turned his attention to the food.

"Nick is bound to be--" Greg hesitated. He wanted to help Warrick along, and usually wasn't the least bit shy talking about sex, but these circumstances went way beyond extenuating. "Well, no one could expect him to want to--" He stopped because Warrick was waving his fork in an emphatic negative.

"It's just the opposite. He's--I don't know why, but he's trying to move things along too fast."

"Too fast for who?"

"Too fast for him."

Something was missing somewhere. Greg felt like he'd skipped a page. "How do you know?"

"What do you mean 'how do you know?'" Warrick scowled.

Greg just looked at him--he didn't see how he could make the question any clearer.

"How do I know," Warrick muttered, spearing a sausage with unnecessary force. "I'm trying to do the right thing here, okay?"

"Wha--who said you weren't?" Greg blinked, astonished. "Jeez, Warrick, I never doubted that for a second."

"Okay, well, it's not a good idea for things to get too intense between us until he remembers more." Warrick's shoulders lowered slightly, Greg hadn't noticed they'd been hunched until he did. "And I'm not saying he needs to remember him and me, but more."

"How much more?"

"Jesus, you sound like Nick!" Warrick snapped, obviously exasperated. "I don't know how much more, just more. It's better to keep some distance until then."

"You're both miserable. How is that better?"

"Being unhappy is no excuse not to do what's right."

"And this is what's right?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?" When Warrick glared at him, Greg hastened on, "I believe you, but how do you know? Did you talk to his doctor? Did you read up on it?" The conversation had somehow become a puzzle and Greg was determined to solve it.

"It just is, okay?" Then so quietly Greg barely caught it, "It's gotta be."

"Warrick..."

"Look, sometimes the right thing is the hardest thing in the world, but that doesn't mean you don't do it."

"I know, but--"

"If there's one thing I've learned, it's that a quick and easy route doesn't work in the long run. You've got to struggle for anything worthwhile."

Margo arrived to refresh their coffee and after she left Greg finished off his plate while he mulled over Warrick's words. He realized that no matter how he looked at it, he always reached the same conclusion. "You're...are you saying..? You figure you're doing the right thing because it's more difficult? That's your basis? That's--" He searched for a way to express his view that was wise or at least mature or at the very least wouldn't make Warrick regret confiding in him, but he really couldn't think of any other way to say what he way thinking. "Warrick, seriously...that's fucked up."

Warrick let out a startled huff, looking torn between irritation and amusement.

"You've gotta have something else you're going on. I mean, that's like saying I should have gone into...Classical Antiquities because science came too naturally for me."

Shaking his head vehemently, Warrick pushed his plate away. "You don't get it. Nick is...he's going through God knows what kind of hell, okay? There's no way I'm supposed to get any...any pleasure out of that. I'm not supposed to feel good about this."

"Not even if it makes Nick happy?" Greg asked. Warrick finally looked as though he was paying attention, so he tried to get his point across. "Okay, so just because something is easier doesn't mean it's the right thing to do, but...I mean, it works the other way, too. Just because something feels good doesn't mean it's the wrong thing to do."

Warrick stared at him in silence, then leaned back in the booth and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Christ, I know what this is. I've had to...for me, fighting temptation--not gratifying every impulse. That's doing the right thing."

"Gambling," Greg said with sudden realization.

"Gambling," Warrick gritted out through clenched teeth. "Fuck. Even when I'm not doing it, it finds a way to bite me in the ass."

Too easy, Greg decided, and managed not to comment on Warrick's last few words. "Shouldn't this be about how much Nick is comfortable with?"

"Yep," Warrick rubbed his eyes and let his hands fall back to the table. "That's exactly what it should be. I've been so wound up inside-out and upside down that I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore."

"Warrick, I'm not trying to tell you what to do," Greg said, uncertain now that the impact of the conversation was sinking in. "But I want you guys to be happy and you...well, you weren't and--" he stopped when Warrick held up his hand.

"I talked to one person about me and Nick, and that's when Nick was still missing. Since then I've been...yeah." He gave Greg a half-smile that managed to convey his gratitude, "I ain't gonna make a habit of spilling my guts or anything, but..."

Returning the smile, Greg nodded in acknowledgment, trying not to squirm under the warm regard in Warrick's eyes. "So...can I tell people?"

"About me and Nick?" Warrick looked mildly surprised. "I'm sure everyone will find out eventually."

"Yeah, so I don't care about that. I meant can I tell them I've been giving the great Warrick Brown advice about his love life?"

"Not if you want to live to make CSI-III."

He was going to have to stop thinking of Greg Sanders as "the kid," Warrick decided. The guy had a good head on his shoulders, which in Warrick's mind was a completely different thing from being highly intelligent. Two months ago he never would have dreamed of discussing his personal problems with the younger man, but it had been surprisingly easy.

Although he didn't agree 100% with everything Greg had said, it felt good to have some outlet for all the emotion that had been churning his insides since Nick was taken. And Greg was absolutely right about one thing--his reasoning had been seriously fucked up. He had been so concerned with maintaining the boundaries he's set that he hadn't even noticed they were no longer valid. So the more frustrated he got, the harder he'd hang onto his stupid idea of what was right.

Warrick sighed as he turned onto West Charleston. He had this whole shooting-himself-in-the-foot thing down to a fine art.

If it turned out he'd set back Nick's recovery because of his own hang ups...Warrick's gut roiled at the thought. Hopefully, he hadn't pushed Nick so far away, sent him so many mixed signals, made him so miserable that the damage was irreparable. Better to go slowly, though, he didn't want to freak Nick out by suddenly coming on strong, or as Greg so delicately put it--"you aren't just gonna go home and, like, jump the guy, are you?" Warrick couldn't help grinning--Greg had a way with words, no doubt about it, but he'd also had a good point. It was entirely up to Nick how fast or slow things needed to move.

All he needed to do, Warrick reflected, was to be considerate enough to back off whenever Nick needed to change gears, no matter how intense things got. It wouldn't always be easy not to get carried away, but it was a hell of a lot simpler than the nearly impossible task he'd previously set for himself.

Now the real problem was letting Nick know that things had changed at all. Nick had been distancing himself since the memory of Nigel Crane, especially holding himself back when memories emerged. The more difficult the memory, the less likely Nick was to allow himself to accept help from Warrick. Fortunately, most of his memories lately hadn't been that bad--at least not from a trauma standpoint.

Kristy Hopkins, Lillie Ivers, and Warrick's marriage had all emerged during the past week, no doubt prompted by the tension between them.

Warrick gave himself a mental shake as he parked next to Nick's Ranger. It would do him no good to get himself all wound up again. He was better off just following his instincts--something he probably should have been doing all along.

Nick was at the dining table, his laptop open in front of him, looking bored out of his mind.

The sight heartened Warrick a little--if Nick was still keeping night shift hours, then at least he wasn't trying to completely distance himself yet.

The questioning expression on Nick's face when he walked in was understandable. Before leaving for Pahrump, Warrick had called because he'd thought he'd be pulling a double, but here he was only two hours after his regular shift ended.

Despite Warrick's constant concern about getting roped into doubles, in actuality, he'd only worked three since meeting with Grissom and Catherine. There were usually a few hours of overtime several times a week, but compared to the hours he'd been working before, it almost felt like a mini-vacation.

"What happened to your scene?"

"The guy thought his wife had been kidnaped. Turns out she had taken off with her boyfriend."

"Ouch," Nick winced.

"On the way back, Greg wanted to stop at this old-fashioned diner. I swear, since he read that Lois O'Neill tell-all, he's been channeling old Vegas." Warrick made himself stop, realizing he was just a breath away from rambling. He never rambled.

Nick seemed to know something was different, but the inquisitive expression he wore was better than the troubled one he'd been sporting lately.

Warrick still wasn't sure whether he ought to try explaining everything or not. He decided to see how things went--he could always go into it if things didn't get better between them. "Working on the diary?" he asked, and grinned when Nick glared at him. The land line rang, saving Warrick from any retort as he picked it up. "Hello?"

There were several beats of silence, then--"Brown?"

"Yeah."

"It's Conrad Ecklie."

That was guaranteed to wipe the smile off anyone's face.

"Is Nick available?" Ecklie asked, "I have some...news that concerns him."

Warrick glanced at Nick, who was watching curiously. "Yeah, he's here. What's up?"

Nick's eyebrows rose in question.

"It's probably a good thing you're there, actually. I'm not sure I should be telling him at all, but I don't want some enterprising reporter catching him off guard."

Now Warrick was worried. Ecklie had actually gone above and beyond when it came to keeping the press away from Nick, despite how badly the Sheriff wanted to play up the capture of a human trafficker. "What's going on?"

"It's about Lon Moutry."

Red washed across Warrick's vision just at the mention of that name. He clenched his teeth and waited for Ecklie to continue.

"He was killed in a prison brawl yesterday evening."

Good.

"I'm not sure it will even make the news, but in case it does..."

"Yeah," Warrick looked at Nick, who had left the table at some point and was now standing next to him.

"Does he remember..?"

"No," Warrick said flatly, wishing he could find an excuse to keep it from him. But Nick already knew the call concerned him, and wouldn't take kindly to Warrick trying to hide anything. This was preferable to Nick being blind sided by some reporter. "He's right here." Warrick handed the phone over and took a step back, trying to prepare himself for whatever might come next.

"Hello?...Oh. Hello....Oh, I'm--um, I'm doing okay. The doctors are pretty happy with my progress....Okay....Well, not really but--okay." Nick grew a little paler, his posture stiffened almost defensively. "Oh. I--oh....No, I'm okay, just...I'm not sure how to--is there anything you need me to do?...What? Why would they..? Jeez....All right...Yes. Yes, I'd appreciate that....Okay. I will....Thank you...Bye." He turned off the phone and fumbled it back into its holder.

"Nick," Warrick wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms, but if there were memories coming, that could be exactly the wrong thing to do.

"He told you about it?" Nick asked.

"Yeah."

Nick nodded, and his gaze focused on the far wall--maybe even beyond. Warrick stayed silent and eventually Nick sighed and shook his head. "Nothin'," he said quietly.

"Hearing the name doesn't bring anything back?" Warrick didn't see how that was possible.

"Nope. I know he's one of the men who...assaulted me, but..." Nick paused, then shook his head again. "No, I don't remember any of it."

Warrick was beginning to wonder if Nick might be making it up to avoid the subject, then immediately felt guilty for thinking it. On one hand it wasn't like Nick, and on the other, if he was--who the hell could blame him? Some of his thoughts must have showed--good thing he didn't play poker anymore--because Nick gave him a humorless smile.

"I know it's weird. It's like..." Nick stopped, searching for an explanation. "It's like stuff from when you're a baby. Say your--your...Gram..?" He stopped again, this time with realization in his voice.

Warrick nodded, managing a small smile. There really was no telling when a memory would just show up.

"Okay, say your Gram tells you something you did when you were a baby. So you know it happened--there might even be pictures of it, but you don't remember it."

"Oh," was all Warrick could think of to say. He'd never hoped to have a frame of reference for Nick's state of mind, and although it might not be exactly the same, at least it was something.

"Except hopefully it would be something cute or at the worst--embarrassing. And in my case, I'm glad there aren't pictures," Nick tried to keep his tone light, but the effect was ruined by the shudder that ran through him.

"C'mere," Warrick put his hands on Nick's shoulders.

"I'm okay," Nick insisted.

"So you're okay," Warrick agreed. "C'mere anyway." He tugged again, and after a moment, Nick stepped into his embrace.

"Nick...what they did to you--"

"Don't," Nick said harshly, starting to pull away. "Just don't, okay? I don't know if it's the right thing to do or not, but I don't want to dwell on it until I actually remember. I'll deal with it then."

Warrick wasn't sure it was the right thing either, but it was ultimately Nick's decision. "Okay."

With a sigh, Nick pressed his face into Warrick's neck and in turn, Warrick laid his cheek against the soft hair. He felt Nick relaxing against him gradually and tightened his hold briefly before drawing back to meet the dark eyes. "You gonna be turning in soon?"

Nick looked grateful for the change in subject. "In a little while. I should probably get this latest batch of memories typed up first. Tomorrow is my day to go over them with Dr. Werne."

"It wouldn't be such a hassle if you didn't leave it all until the last minute," Warrick couldn't resist.

"I have to let some of them...sit for a few days before I go over them."

Normally, Warrick would have dropped it, but he knew in this case Nick's excuse was just that--an excuse. "Dog ate your homework?"

"Shut up," Nick said, but his lips were twitching.

Warrick grinned and reached up to run his fingers through Nick's hair, his smile widening when Nick leaned into the touch with a contented murmur. "I'm gonna grab a quick shower, then crash."

"'Kay." Nick's eyes were closed, enjoyment plain on his face.

"I was just wondering if I could crash in your room."

Nick's eyes flew open and met Warrick's, startled. They'd slept in their own rooms since Nick's memory of Nigel Crane, so he had every right to be surprised.

Then Warrick realized that with the specter of Lon Moutry looming, Nick might not want company in his bed. "It's cool if you're not comfortable with it. I know that--"

"No," Nick quickly cut him off. "Nope, no problem at all."

"Good," Warrick said. He hesitated, then dipped his head to give Nick a soft kiss.

Nick's smile was bemused, but that was just fine with Warrick. Better bemused, or even confused, than unhappy. After another quick squeeze, Warrick broke the embrace and headed for the bathroom.

It was a relief to step under the hot spray of the shower, and let the water wash away the unnecessary weight he'd been carrying lately. His nerves were a little worn--he'd been fighting his instincts with Nick for so long that now he had to make a conscious effort to follow them. Hopefully soon he'd stop second-guessing and over-thinking everything he said and did around Nick, because it was obvious following his instincts was what he should have been doing all along. Already, Nick seemed happier and more relaxed.

After his shower, he'd taken a peek to see Nick still typing away on his laptop, pout and all. Happier, yes, but obviously he was never going to like having to keep a "diary." He ducked into his room to chuck the towel and change into a pair of boxers he kept just to sleep in, then went to Nick's room. Even though the shift had been an easy one, it had been a long night, and Warrick was glad to stretch out under the covers of Nick's bed.

He'd fallen into a light doze when he felt Nick climb into bed beside him. "Hey," he said, rousing himself just enough to reach out and to bring Nick close to him.

"Hey," Nick returned, propping himself up on one elbow instead. "You gonna tell me what's going on, Rick? Because I know something is."

Warrick opened his eyes to find Nick looking down at him questioningly. He should have known that if Nick thought something was up, he wouldn't just let it go without some sort of explanation. "Aw, Nicky, you gonna make me admit to being a damn fool?"

The dark eyes widened, "Wow. This sounds more interesting all the time."

"It's not. It's really kinda sad," Warrick said, reaching up to stroke the dark hair. "What do you say we just pick things up again from here? From right now?" He was willing to explain if Nick pressed him any further, but he barely understood the whole thing himself.

Nick's expression had changed, and it was a look that, by now, Warrick knew well. He could only wait, and hope the memory that was emerging wasn't too bad.

"You...you said something like that to me before," Nick spoke slowly, feeling his way along. "Something about...not saying how long you want me...or how long I wanted you. Is that..?"

Warrick sat up, his heart tripping in double time.

"Wait. Why would I have to figure out if you were drunk..? What..? Oh." Nick gave that crooked half-smile of his, "You weren't drunk, though."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurred to Warrick that it was just as well he'd stopped trying to fight his instincts, because now it was definitely a losing battle. He leaned in before Nick finished speaking, and devoured any other words--along with Nick's lips--like the starving man he was.

There was no hesitation on Nick's part. He fell back against the pillow, pulling the larger man with him and wrapping both arms around Warrick's neck to maintain the contact.

Nick's mouth was like a drug Warrick just couldn't get enough of--even oxygen was secondary. Eventually, though, the need for air did become a concern, and Warrick drew back from the kiss as slowly as possible.

Dazed brown eyes blinked up at him. "Hi," Nick sounded a bit fuzzy.

Warrick grinned, glad to see he wasn't the only one the kiss had affected so strongly. "Hi."

"If I'd known that would happen, I'd have lied and said I remembered weeks ago."

The irony of the entire situation finally hit Warrick and with a tired laugh he flopped onto his back. The time when he reached for Nick, the Texan moved in close, propping his chin against Warrick's shoulder. Warrick wrapped both arms around him, and felt another grin tugging at his lips. "Can't wait to see what your doc thinks when she reads those memories."

"Oh, hell, no."

Warrick chuckled again, then heaved a big sigh, trying to calm his pounding heart and swirling thoughts.

"You sound tired," Nick said.

"Weird night," Warrick admitted. "Good, but weird."

Nick shifted up enough to give him another kiss. Although not as heated at their last one, it was no less intoxicating as they lazily explored each other's mouth. Finally, Nick pulled away with a happy sigh and settled more comfortably against Warrick.

Oh, yeah, Warrick decided as he drifted off with a smile and the sensation of Nick nuzzling against his neck. He definitely owed Sanders big time.

"I think it would be better if you came home."

"Mom," Nick tried not to let his exasperation creep into his voice. She hinted at it every phone call, but rarely said it right out. "You're acting like I just told you this guy escaped from prison instead of died there."

"Sweetheart, are you sure being out there all by yourself is the best thing for you?"

Nick shored up his patience. He'd only recently gotten his parents to accept the fact that he would call every few days instead of every day. "I'm not all by myself. And I've recovered a lot of memories since I've been here."

"Bad memories." There was still a hint of reproach in her voice, leftover from when Nick, trying to relay his progress, told she and his father about recovering the memory of Nigel Crane. It probably would have gone over much better if he'd told them about the stalking when it first happened. The three-way "discussion" that followed reminded Nick why he hadn't told them about it in the first place and made him doubly glad he never mentioned what happened during his flashback to his burial.

"They're my memories, though. And they aren't all bad ones."

"All right," his mother conceded, although she sounded as though she was humoring him. "It just seems as though the bad ones outweigh the good."

"They don't, Mom."

"I can't help thinking you'd be happier here."

"I'm fine here. And I think I'm as happy as anyone could be, in my situation."

"You haven't sounded very happy lately."

Nick sighed, she did have a point there. He had probably sounded pretty low over the past couple of weeks, but that was before. Before he remembered he and Warrick getting together. Before Warrick came home with a completely different attitude about how important that particular memory was. Nick still wasn't sure what made Warrick change his mind--he wasn't even sure of the reasoning behind Warrick's original stance and if he was going to be perfectly honest, he didn't much care about either.

He'd asked Warrick about it after they woke late in the afternoon, but Warrick merely shook his head. "Let's just say there is such a thing as trying too hard." Because Warrick actually seemed embarrassed about it, Nick let the whole thing drop. The reasoning wasn't nearly as important to Nick at the result, anyway.

Besides, even when things were at their worst, Nick never once considered leaving Vegas, and now that they were improving, no amount of pressure from his family was going to make him go.

"You'd be better off here," his mother continued. "There are so many people here who love you."

"I have that here, too," Nick countered, bracing himself. She was really pulling out the big guns. Nick wished he hadn't had to tell her about Moutry's death, but between her, Cisco and Sammie, there was always the chance that one of them might have found out through work. If that had happened, things would have really hit the fan.

"Sweetheart, why don't you want to come home?"

Nick hated hearing that note of hurt in his mother's voice, he tried to make his own as gentle as possible. "Mom, I know you don't like it, but Las Vegas is my home. It has been for years."

"Even after all the horrible things that have happened to you there?"

"Even after." Part of Nick wanted to point out that some bad things had happened in Dallas as well, but that would absolutely break her heart. "You make it sound like everyone in Vegas is a degenerate, but you know that's not true. There's good people here."

There was a long pause, then his mother asked, "Nick, what aren't you telling me?"

Nick knew that tone, too. It meant his mother's intuition had kicked in big time. "What do you mean?"

"I'm starting to wonder if there's something specific that makes you want to stay. Someone specific?"

Damn, she was good. "Uh..."

Not very eloquent, but it was all she needed to hear. "Have you met someone? Or had you met someone before? I did hear some people mention somebody named Mark--"

"Mom..."

"--but we never met anyone. If it's someone you've only met since you got back, honey--"

"Mom."

"--maybe you should go slowly. I'm not--"

"Mom." Nick just wanted her to stop before this got any more embarrassing.

"--trying to tell you how to live that...aspect of your life--"

"Mom, please--" There had to be some way to make her stop.

"--but everything else considered, this might not be the best time to--"

"Mom, it's Warrick."

His mother went silent.

Oh, shit. He had not meant to do that.

"It's...Warrick?"

"Yeah."

"What's Warrick?"

"Mom, come on," Nick sighed.

"Why didn't we hear about this sooner? Has it only been since you got back?"

"No," Nick admitted reluctantly. "It was before that, but--"

"All that time we spent with him, and he never once said--"

"We hadn't even been together a week--what could he say?"

Another silence, and his mother sounded a bit calmer when she spoke again. "Then that wasn't the reason you boys moved in together?"

"No, and it wasn't just because he moved in, either." Anticipating her next question, he added, "Or because of his divorce."

"Sweetheart, are you sure?"

"Mom, it's Warrick," Nick said firmly. "It's always been Warrick."

A soft exclamation from the doorway made him look up. Warrick stood by the door, a bag of take-out dangling from his hand. For a moment Nick thought Warrick was angry at him for telling his folks, but the look in the green eyes quickly dispelled that notion, even as it made every inch of Nick's skin tingle.

On the phone, his mother was saying something about breaking the news to Cisco. "Okay, Mom. I gotta go now, though."

She said something else and Nick gave all the necessary inanities--anything so he could hang up. Pulled by that heated gaze, Nick tossed the phone aside and got off the sofa, walking up to Warrick.

"Always?" Warrick's voice was barely more than a whisper.

"As far as I can remember, anyway."

Nick was vaguely aware of the take-out hitting the floor before Warrick pulled him close and captured his mouth in a searing kiss. Without a second thought, he twined his fingers in Warrick's hair and pressed their bodies as close as possible.

Warrick's lips left a heated trail along his jaw to whisper in his ear. "Nicky, you gotta let me know the second anything is too much for you."

Too busy running his hands up and down Warrick's back and concentrating on the sensation of Warrick's lips against his neck, Nick's only response was, "Mm-hmm..." He grabbed handfuls of Warrick's shirt and pulled it free of the waistband, searching for the warm skin underneath.

Warrick shuddered at his touch, "You want to take this somewhere else?"

It finally registered to Nick that they were still standing by the door. "Somewhere you don't have so many clothes."

"Anywhere you want, Nicky," Warrick's laugh was rough.

His hands on the button placket of Warrick's shirt, Nick started walking backward, tugging Warrick along and unbuttoning as they went. Warrick's room was closer, so Nick led him through the doorway by the now-open lapels of his shirt. One inside, Nick moved closer again, sliding his arms under the open shirt and pressing his lips again the bared chest. His jeans were becoming uncomfortably tight.

He felt Warrick's hand slip up his back to cup the back of his head, and obliged when Warrick tilted it back for another kiss, letting it fall back to allow Warrick's lips better access to his neck. The other hand was toying with the hem of his shirt and Nick knew Warrick would go no further without permission. Wanting to make things perfectly clear, Nick leaned back enough to strip the shirt over his head, then moved into Warrick's embrace again, letting out a moan at the sensation of finally being skin-to-skin with him.

Echoing the moan, Warrick roamed over his bared skin with hands and lips. He trailed his tongue along Nick's collar bone, and Nick bucked against him uncontrollably. "How do you want this to go, Nicky?" Warrick asked, hands on Nick's hips to steady them both.

The fact that Warrick was still able to form coherent questions just seemed wrong somehow, but Nick didn't have enough breath to address that issue. "I don't care how," he panted, reaching for Warrick's fly. "But it better be soon."

Warrick's throaty chuckled dissolved into a moan as Nick stroked him through his boxers. Then, of course, Warrick had to outdo him, unfastening his jeans and pushing his shorts aside to cradle his length.

Nick stepped back to shed the rest of his clothes and Warrick quickly followed suit.

"Nicky, are you sure you're okay to--"

With a growl of frustration, Nick toppled them both back onto the bed.

"I'll take that as a yes," Warrick grinned, his arms coming up to encircle the man sprawled over him.

Nick moved eagerly against the muscular body beneath him, reveling in the realization of dreams and fantasies he'd been replaying since his first week in Dallas. Judging from Warrick's near-incoherence, he was enjoying the feel of Nick's undulating body just as much as Nick enjoyed grinding against him, and slid his hands down to squeeze Nick's ass encouragingly.

Both cocks were trapped between their straining bodies haphazardly, but neither man could be bothered to adjust them. For Nick, just the thought of Warrick's body had previously been enough stimulation to push him over, so when Warrick tightened his hold, pressing them closer, the slight increase in friction was all it took.

It was a bit embarrassing how fast and hard he came, and Nick had no real idea what sort of things he shouted into Warrick's neck as he writhed frantically against the larger man. Or at least, it would have been embarrassing if Nick had been able to think straight.

Warrick didn't seem to have any complaints, unless "c'mon, baby, just like that," could possibly be thought of as a grievance. Then with a low groan, he added to the wet warmth between them.

Nick remained blissfully relaxed on top of Warrick until the air began to cool the sheen of sweet that covered him. When his shivered, that seemed to be a sign to Warrick, who eased out from under him in search of something to clean off with.

Still fuzzy, Nick accepted the article of clothing Warrick offered without bothering to note who it belonged to and wiped himself down before crawling under the covers. Warrick joined him after a moment and Nick couldn't hold back a contented sigh as he was pulled in close.

It finally felt as though he was really home.

Nick didn't even realize he'd said out loud until he heard Warrick murmur, "That's because you are home, baby."

The first shift after their little heart-to-heart, Greg--not having heard about Lon Moutry--had hinted and teased unmercifully for information. Warrick would have liked to been able to tease back, but instead he had to tell Greg about Moutry's death. That put a damper on the younger man's spirits and changed his hinting to interrogating about how Nick was and whether he should be alone right now. Warrick had several doubts about that as well, but Nick had more or less insisted he go to work.

Tonight, he was in such a good mood, Warrick knew people were bound to guess what he'd been up to, if not with whom. Greg was bound to be absolutely insufferable, but Warrick figured he was allowed to be--at least for a little while. When he got to work, however, there was no time for banter or teasing. Three simultaneous casino heists an hour before shift started meant they were all in for a long night. Amazingly, there was only one fatality amidst all the automatic fire, but there were still several dozen injured. No one bothered mentioning the possibility it was a coincidence--the odds were too high, even for Vegas.

Warrick was still questioning witnesses at the El Dorado long after the sun came up. He called Nick to say he'd be working a double, but just an hour later, three banks were hit. That took things to a whole new level and increased their death toll by two more. Although Warrick got home for a few hours in the afternoon, Nick was at a session for one of those hours, and they'd only had time for a meal and a few kisses before another call came in. Three jewelry stores were held up, and four people had been killed.

Faced with not only nine major robberies in 36 hours, but the very real possibility the deaths were deliberately being doubled at each scene, the Sheriff called all hands on deck until everything had stopped. Warrick worked 24 hours straight before three armored cars were held up on the California side of the state line. Eight of the company's employees had been killed, leaving one lone survivor. Once it crossed state lines, it became a federal problem, and except for Oscar Deems and Valerie Hammond from swing, everyone went back to their usual schedule.

That gave Warrick about five hours before his usual shift started, and he knew he had to get some sleep more than anything else. Unfortunately, neither his mind nor his body was slowing down enough for him to get any rest and even Nick's calm, steady breathing next to him wasn't helping the way it normally did. He turned from one side to the other for what was likely the twentieth time in as many minutes.

Nick grunted as the restless movement jostled him yet again.

"Sorry," Warrick said.

"You really need some sleep, Rick. Try to relax."

"I am trying."

"Would it be easier for you to fall asleep if I wasn't here?"

"Nope." And just to make sure he got his point across, Warrick turned to face Nick again, draping an arm over his ribs.

With a soft smile, Nick moved closer.

Warrick closed his eyes and tried to stop the case from running through his mind. It was nearly impossible when he'd thought of little else for two days, but hadn't been pushed to the point of exhaustion that would force him to sleep. He did manage to stay still for nearly five minutes before switching to his other side again.

"Rick," Nick's laugh was one of exasperation.

"Sorry," Warrick said again, rolling onto his back and staring up into the darkness.

Nick moved away briefly, then returned, pressing his entire body to Warrick's side and stretching one leg across both of Warrick's.

"You really think that's gonna help me sleep?"

"Maybe not right away." Nick slid his hand down Warrick's chest, pausing briefly to toy with his nipples before continuing slowly along his abs and finally down to grasp his cock, which had started taking notice of the situation the moment Warrick felt Nick's burgeoning erection against his thigh.

"Nick," Warrick would have reached for him, but one arm was trapped between their bodies and he suddenly needed his other hand to hold onto the edge of the mattress and ground himself as Nick ran his thumb over the weeping head, massaging the slit gently.

"I got this one, Rick," Nick murmured against his shoulder, then demonstrated further by running his fingers along Warrick's length before dipping down to fondle the heavy sac beneath. Sliding his other arm under Warrick's neck, Nick curled himself around Warrick's entire body the same way his fingers curled around the hardening cock.

A bit dazed with what was being done to him, Warrick wondered vaguely if he shouldn't be returning the favor somehow, but he finally registered the sensation of Nick grinding lazily against his thigh. He wouldn't have thought it possibly, but somehow that made it even better.

Nick's fingers slid up and down his erection with just enough pressure--or lack of pressure--to drive Warrick crazy. Groaning, he laced the fingers of his free hand with those of the one Nick had under his neck and managed to snake his other hand from between their bodies to grasp Nick's hip. Nick murmured something unintelligible and pressed his body even closer.

"God, Nicky..." Warrick tried to buck his hips, but Nick tensed his leg, not allowing him much movement.

Instead of speaking, Nick wrapped his hand more fully around Warrick's cock, which was steadily leaking, making it easy for Nick to establish a smooth rhythm. By now, Nick was also panting, the speed of his undulations matching those of his hand.

Warrick closed his eyes and rode out the waves of pleasure created by multiple sensations. Their fingers twined together so tightly it was almost painful; Nick's had on his cock, still a touch he wasn't used to, but so, so good; and Nick's hip flexing under his hand all combined to push Warrick over the edge.

Moaning Nick's name, he came all over Nick's hand, barely aware of the warmth against his thigh when Nick found his own release only moments later. Warrick allowed himself to float briefly, and when he finally started to think about moving, Nick was already cleaning them both off.

Anything Nick might have said when he settled back in against Warrick was lost to the welcome darkness of a thoroughly sated sleep.

One effect of his returning memories that Nick had not anticipated was what it did to time--or at least to his perception of time. When he was still fumbling to regain his life in Las Vegas, he could spend hours swimming through the murkiness of half-formed memories. Now that he had enough memories to feel like his feet were firmly on the ground again, time began to slow down. Often to little more than a crawl.

For the most part, Nick was still keeping graveyard hours, even though the nights alone could get very long. He spent most of his time alternately sifting through memories and wishing he could be out working a scene with everyone else. The more he remembered about his job and his co-workers, the more he missed it. The only books that really held his interest right now were those centered around criminalistics even though less and less of what was inside time seemed like new information.

He'd finally received a clean bill of health from his medical doctor and had been cautiously hinting around about going back to work without any real response from Dr. Werne. During his last session, he asked her straight out and she replied with equal bluntness that under no circumstances could she imagine approving someone in his situation to return to work in less than six months. Sensing his next question, she quickly added that six months was only a starting point and not a guarantee.

Nick resigned himself to that for the time being, and settled for rebuilding and improving his store of scientific information.

Having most of his closest friends all working the same hours did make hanging out a bit tricky, especially when part of him wanted to spend every free moment with Warrick. He didn't, of course, now that he felt more comfortable out and about he got together often with Greg or Sara and sometimes Bobby or Archie.

He and Catherine had a "date" at least twice a week, unless work prevented it. Mondays and Wednesdays his sessions were at three in the afternoon and he usually finished around four. Lindsey's dance lessons--which began at four--were a few buildings down from Dr. Werne's office. In between was a little bakery where he and Catherine would meet for coffee during the lesson. They talked about anything under the sun, and Nick suspected she knew about he and Warrick, even if that was the one thing she didn't bring up.

Nick still wasn't sure how to go about telling their friends that he and Warrick were together--he hadn't even discussed the subject with Warrick yet. It had been nearly two weeks since he'd blurted out the truth to his mother and he was still dealing with the fallout. He'd only spoken to his father once during that time and knew that Cisco was ten different kinds of ticked off, even though Nick doubted his father would even be able to decide what he was actually angry about. His mother tried her best to keep the tone of her calls the same as always. She even asked after Warrick, although Nick could tell it was a bit of an effort for her.

Sammie called to thank him for keeping things from getting too dull and to say that she would be coming to Vegas before long to "check out this Mr. Brown she'd heard so much about." True to form, Brett never mentioned Nick's revelation, but the tone of the conversation was the same as ever, and his "say hey to Warrick" sounded much more sincere than their mother's attempt. Also true to form, Susannah gave Nick a quick rundown of the rest of their siblings' reactions, but then she floored him by asking for Warrick and talking to him for nearly twenty minutes.

It took two days of coaxing and cajoling before Nick got Warrick to tell him what that had been about, and finally managed to convince him that it wouldn't be something that would interfere with his memories since he hadn't even been present. Warrick finally told him and for Nick, learning that Suz had figured out about he and Warrick wasn't nearly as surprising as learning she'd figured out he was gay almost before he had. Nick found he was a little sorry when Warrick gave in explained, because he'd been having a very good time trying to bribe the information from him.

Once it was established what Nick was comfortable with, Warrick stopped asking if he was okay every few minutes. Nick usually had to initiate anytime he wanted to try something new, but once Warrick knew, he did plenty of initiating of his own. In this way, they had made very pleasurable progress together.

There was still one aspect of their sex life they hadn't explored, and at first, that had suited Nick just fine. It wasn't so much the rape--that still didn't seem quite real to him--as it was the after effects. His injuries had healed completely, but while he'd been in the hospital the pain had been substantial and had lingered for a couple of weeks afterward.

It made him wary, to a certain extent, but any wariness had disappeared over the past week, especially after Nick recovered more and more of their short time together before...before.

More than once, Warrick had muttered something about the irony of their timing, which Nick took to mean his finally remembering right after Warrick decided it wasn't as important as before. Recently, Nick had discovered an even greater irony--that he actually had remembered something from their relationship long before, but hadn't been able to recognize it for what it was. He now knew that when he'd asked about being spoiled, he had been in Warrick's arms, and Warrick had followed up his reply with a kiss. Even though they had established that his memories--lack of memories--weren't the main reason for Warrick's reluctance, Nick didn't think it would be a good idea to mention that particular memory's emergence to Warrick.

Another memory, one that both amused and embarrassed the hell out of him, indicated that he had been the one to plan when they actually slept together for the first--only?--time. He still didn't remember all the details of what exactly had transpired, but he knew that it had been good.

Good enough that he was eager to give it another try, planning and all.

It was becoming difficult to maintain that laid-back attitude he was known for--one that was usually second nature to him. Difficult not to walk with an extra bounce in his step and keep to that rambling stride people were so accustomed to seeing from him. Still, he managed well enough that the only people who noticed were the people looking for a difference.

Catherine would often glance at him with a smile and a knowing glint in her eye, even though she never said a word about it. Warrick didn't mind any of that; it was when she gave him that aren't-you-adorable? look as though he was a six-year-old with his first crush that he felt like hiding under the nearest lab table.

Greg, on the other hand, was a constant source of smug grins and innuendo which would have gotten annoying by now if Warrick wasn't in such a good mood most of the time.

At the moment, he was getting a reprieve from silent but constant teasing. He was working a case with Sara and was pretty sure that if she knew she would have mentioned it to either him or Nick by now.

The main portion of their crime scene was the van the victim had been found in, and they lucked out in that they were able to do the processing in the lab's garage. Normally, only vehicles that required heavy-duty processing--reassembly or disassembly--were done in the garage, but at the moment it was empty, so they caught a break. They were able to process in safe, ideal surroundings with some good tunes playing in the background. No wind, no noise, no looky-lous, no problem.

Hopefully, Sara would attribute his upbeat attitude to that.

"So you coming with us to the movie Tuesday?"

"What? That Swiss film you've been talking about?"

"Norwegian," Sara corrected.

"Hell, no. How'd you rope Nick into that, anyway?"

"Just had to plead a little bit," Sara replied, dusting the steering wheel. "He's been in such a good mood lately that it wasn't too hard."

Warrick had to fight to keep his grin from getting too big, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sara replied lightly, most of her attention focused on getting a good print lift. "It's really kind of amazing when you consider his situation. I'd say he even seemed giddy sometimes, except he'd hate me for it."

Warrick couldn't choke back a laugh. "Guys don't get giddy."

"Says you. You wouldn't notice, anyway. You've been nearly as bad lately. Hey..." Sara's tone was one of discovery.

As he tape-lifted some powder from the carpet, Warrick waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Did our vic have kids?"

That was so far off the mark from what he'd expected to hear that it took a minute for Warrick to gather his thoughts. "Not as far as I know. There were no other indications of children. Why?"

"There's little fingerprints all over the dash."

"We'll have to call Caveliere to double check." Warrick wasn't sure whether he was relieved or not, but quickly changed his focus. With the new possibility that children were involved--children, because in the next moment Sara found she had small and very small prints--they processed even more thoroughly than usual.

Nearly an hour later, Sara got ready to go question a possible witness with Caveliere. Warrick was to finish up and drop off their evidence before meeting up with them at the victim's apartment. The prints went to Mandy, although Warrick wasn't holding out too much hope that she'd get many hits. Trace was his next stop, and as he approached, he saw Greg and Hodges in the midst of a heated argument. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were definitely facing off, invading each other's space. It wasn't like either man to be that aggressive, so Warrick hurried through the doors.

"Hey," was all he said, but it startled them both into taking a step back. They continued to eye one another angrily. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Greg replied quickly, shooting Hodges a warning look.

Hodges snorted, and Warrick couldn't help being impressed by the amount of derision the chemist could relay without saying a word.

Greg's glare darkened. "I was just reminding Hodges that the people who work here have rights and no one is going to be able to just ignore them."

Having quickly recovered his usual blasé attitude, Hodges addressed Warrick as if Greg wasn't even there. "One of you people needs to teach your infant CSI all about these things called loopholes and that there are people who know how to use them."

"You mean all those people whose asses you love to kiss?"

Warrick's eyes widened slightly--that wasn't like Greg at all.

Hodges didn't even blink at the insult. "And while you're at it, maybe explain the difference between relaying information and agreeing with it."

Warrick looked from one to the other--they were both watching him expectantly. Did they actually think he was going to get into one of their bizarro arguments and try to sort it out for them? Hell, no. His good mood only extended so far. Instead, he spread all the trace out on one of the tables. "Glad to see you have some free time, Hodges. You can get to this right away." He gave Greg a hard look, "That case we were working--the one I said you could run with--how's it coming?"

"Good," Greg said quickly, now looking uncomfortable. "I was just...right."

Hodges was already sorting through the trace.

Warrick shook his head and held the door open to let Greg precede him out of the lab. "Just be glad it was me and not Grissom who came across your little go 'round," he muttered to the younger man.

With not trace of his recent teasing mischief, Greg merely nodded.

On to Part 4