CSI: Sanctuary: Chapter 1

A/N:

1. This was inspired by the song "She Can't Get That" by Blake Shelton.

2. Those who know my writing will be shocked to know there are several graphic sex scenes in this story (more than what's normal for my stories, anyway), hence the rating. (Consider this your parental guidance warning, or your M/M sex warning if that offends you, creeps you out, makes you uncomfortable, or whatever, and take it as you will.) Keep in mind this is not sex just for the sake of sex. Each scene carries full meaning and moves the plot and the characters forward, or at least it should. I've read a lot on how to write erotic m/m romance, and hopefully, I'll be able to apply what I've learned to fanfic as well as original fic. So, let me know how I'm doing! I'll take all the crit I can get.

3. I said this would be a long one shot originally, and it turned into something much longer, due to my recent research into writing original fiction (M/M Romance being the genre I've chosen to go into). I think the longer length suits this story much better, and I'm quite sure you'll agree. It also covers the end of season three and all of seasons four and five.

4. I did take one liberty with Cara's birthday. She should be a December baby, but here she was born in May. Forgive me and go with it, ok? Who's Cara you ask? She would be a product of the first season episode "Boom". Now, read on, and figure that one out, if you haven't already.

With all that said, please enjoy, and let me know what you think. I love all your thoughts and opinions. And, of course, you're my best audience!

Spinning. Something burning. Plastic. Burning plastic. But where? What? Flying. Air whooshing by. Shattering sound. Glass? Tile floor rushing up. Sara was there. She was lying on the floor. Sara? On the floor? Must have been a dream. Weird dream.

Greg's eyes struggled to open. The lids felt heavy. Too heavy. His brain was foggy. Where the hell was he? This wasn't the lab. Not his bed at home either. He was uncomfortable. Achy. Meds would be nice...

There was a shape, vague, blurry. But a woman. It had to be. Right?

"Catherine?" His voice croaked. Dear God he sounded awful. What happened? Did he get hit by a truck?

"Hey, Greg." She came over to the bed, proving that she wasn't a mirage or another weird dream. Or was she?

What was she doing in his bedroom? Freaky thought. Oh, right, this wasn't his bedroom.

A slow steady beeping met his ears. Where was it coming from? Why did the room look like a hospital? Was he still dreaming?

He tried to roll over onto his back, to get more comfortable. But he was stopped by his coworker's well manicured hand.

"No, no, you don't want to do that. Your back's gonna be pretty sore for a few days at least, according to the doctor."

"What... what happened?" Why was everything so foggy? And confusing?

"Your lab exploded."

This whole thing was a dream. It had to be.

"Do you remember what happened right before the incident? What were you working on?" Warrick came out of a dark corner to stand beside Catherine. Sooo creepy.

They were ganging up on him. This was a dream. He was sure of it. Next Nick would walk through the door wielding a sword. Of course the straight man of his gay fantasies would want to kill him. Where was the surprise in that? And Grissom would... what? Right. Body farm. His mom would pitch a fit.

"I don't... I don't... remember. But... I wouldn't... not stupid."

"We know. We're just trying to piece the puzzle together to figure out what happened. Do you remember anything unusual you might have noticed?"

He struggled with his memory. What did he remember that might be considered real and not his crazy imagination? He was still groggy. Sleep would feel nice. He wanted to close his eyes. Instead, he thought about Catherine's question.

"Plastic... burning... I think... could smell it."

"Good. Anything else?"

Greg shook his head.

"Alright, you get some rest, ok? We'll be back later to check on you."

He didn't even reply before his lids were shutting on him and he was falling back into a deep, dark sleep.

"You sure he's doing ok?" Nick asked Warrick as they stood outside the front entrance to the crime lab, both on their way home. "I'll admit I am a little worried... I mean... I saw it happen, Rick. You weren't there man. He went flying through that glass like..." shivers ran up Nick's spine. He didn't finish his sentence. Couldn't.

"Yeah, I heard about it from Sara and Archie. He's doing fine. He'll be sore for awhile. They've got him heavily doped up and I guess his back's a real mess. But hey, the guy's alive, and that's the important part."

Nick nodded in complete agreement. "What did the doctor say about his back exactly?" The cell phone clipped to his belt vibrated against his hip, interrupting their conversation. He answered without checking the caller-ID. "Stokes."

"Oh, I'm so glad you're alright! I heard what happened and I just had to call you. Is everything ok?" Kristy's selfish whine came over the line, biting into Nick's ear.

"Yeah, I'm ok. Everything's ok. Once they figure out what happened they'll get a crew in to repair the damage. That's all." He neglected to mention his coworker who'd been sent to the hospital.

"Mommy!" Nick could hear his daughter in the background. "Listen, I've gotta run. Tell Cara I love her and I'll see you when I get home later. Alright?"

"Sure."

"That Kristy?" Warrick asked once he'd hung up.

"Yeah."

"Tell her I said hi when you get home."

"Will do."

"About Greg's back, from what I understand it'll need lots of attention. Right now, he's covered in bandages. I figure if it's bad enough for him to be so doped up he can't crack a joke and barely knows his own name, that can't be good. However, he was just waking up when we were there. Maybe once he's been awake for a bit his brain might clear up."

All the way to the hospital Nick couldn't stop thinking about Greg and what the explosion had done to him. The way Warrick had mentioned it Nick wasn't sure what to think. He didn't know how bad it was, but he was almost too afraid to find out. The last thing he wanted was to see Greg in pain.

"Hi Nick!" Greg perked up when he saw his coworker and good friend walk in. "Sorry..." he slurred. "Don't think I can play... video games tonight."

"Wow, they really do have you doped up, don't they?" A moment ago Nick had been worried, but seeing Greg now, he had to work hard at controlling his laughter.

"Yeah."

But at least Greg knew what day it was. And while Nick would have much preferred spending half the day at Greg's apartment playing video games, like they normally did on Tuesdays, he said he would keep Greg company where he was.

"Sss, not the same," Greg complained.

"Hey, no matter where you are, I'll hang. You know I need time away from the girls on occasion."

"I know."

Nick brought a chair closer to the bed and sat down, leaning in close to his friend so he could better hear his quiet, slurred words.

"So drugged... Must be bad..."

Greg had been lying on his side when Nick entered the room and he hadn't moved since.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Whole back's gotta bandage. I got cut... glass... lotsa glass."

Nick winced, hating the thought of Greg cut by glass, even if it was just a finger slice. His stomach turned and he had to look away for a moment.

"Nicky?"

He sighed, his eyes finding Greg's. "I'm sure they won't keep you in here too long. When you get out, I'll come visit regularly, help you out a little."

"Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"Gotta itch... my arm. Can you scratch it?"

"You can't scratch it yourself?"

"Hurts my back to move much."

Nick obliged him, and scratched his right arm just above the elbow. Even with the brief contact of their skin, Nick felt a certain heat climbing up into his face. He willed it back down, an image of his wife and daughter quickly filling his mind.

"Don't have to visit. I'll be ok."

"You can hardly move, G."

"Be ok."

Nick wanted to laugh. Drunk Greg could be funny. But this wasn't so funny anymore. He really was hurting, he just couldn't feel it at the moment. Someone was going to have to help Greg at home for awhile and he despised the thought of some random in-home care nurse in his apartment, though he was unsure why it should bother him so much. Greg was like himself, few friends outside the department. It was just the nature of working the graveyard shift. Who else did that leave?

"Nicky? Ssssso tired."

"It's alright. Get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Greg's eyes dropped closed and he was sound asleep within moments.

Nick stayed with him, listening to the steady beat of his heart on the monitor, and watched his chest rise and fall with each breath he took, until he too, let his eyes droop closed.

Several days went by and Nick had felt compelled to visit Greg for every single one of them. It was a good excuse to get out of the house for awhile. He didn't want to see Greg in the hospital, but it was still nice having somewhere to go after work. Somewhere he could decompress. Greg understood what his night had been like without having to say a word. He wasn't sure Kristy would ever understand. And even though he'd suggested she spend the night at the lab, perhaps following Warrick or Catherine around to find out what they really did, much like wives of police officers who sometimes did a ride-along with another officer, Kristy had refused. Claimed she didn't need to. Didn't want to. She was looking at his job with a different shade of glasses than when they'd first met, and he doubted they were rose-colored.

Arriving at the hospital this time, he was prepared to leave with a passenger. He stopped, first, at the nurse's station to sign Greg out and to pick up the medication he would need for the next few weeks. He then found Greg sitting up, on the edge of his bed, already changed into the baggy sweat pants and loose t-shirt Nick had brought him the day before.

"Hey." Greg smiled. "Didn't think you'd actually come for me."

"What, you thought I'd leave you here?"

"Well, that, or you'd fudge some story and make Catherine do it. She's already feeling bad enough that it was her fault."

Nick moved closer. "Accidents happen, G."

"I know. I've accepted it, but it must be different on her end."

"Are you ready to get home?"

"Yeah, help me up."

Nick lent him an arm, supporting him under the elbow, as Greg carefully lowered himself to the ground.

"Oh God... I'm a little weak in the legs."

"You haven't been walking for a week. You'll be fine soon enough."

Nick helped him out to the car, and got him home as soon as possible.

This was... weird. To say the least. Sure Nick had spent a lot of time at Greg's even after the wedding, but he stayed in the livingroom where they ate Chinese takeout and played video games until Nick determined it was time he headed home to his family.

But now, Nick was in his bedroom, helping him get out of his clothes and into his bed. It was embarrassing. He, Gregory Sanders, was half naked in front of the one man he'd had the longest crush on. And of course, he had to be a married coworker, of all people. He was sure he was blushing. His face felt hot as Nick's hands grazed his skin, pulling his shirt up and over his head after carefully freeing each arm. Oh but for the grace of boxers. If it hadn't been for them, he would be completely naked and his hard on would be even more obvious. Nick undressing him was one of his biggest fantasies, even if Nick himself wasn't getting naked too.

He had to admit he felt better sans clothes. Now his thick bandages wouldn't continually catch on the fabric. But he wasn't alone yet and that's where the problem was.

The image of his latest boyfriend, Matt, entered his mind. Big, tough, muscles so thick he made Greg look like the man's ten-year-old son. Ironically enough, he had been one of the gentlest creatures on the face of the entire planet.

Matt's face began to change. Dark hair replaced blonde. His jaw became more chiseled. Blue eyes turned to brown chocolate pools.

Greg shook his head, willing the picture of Matt to right itself, before Nick chanced a look down and saw the obvious tent in his boxers. Matt knew full well that every time they'd been together Greg's mind had been elsewhere. He hated that he'd hurt such a sweet guy, but at least Matt had recognized that it couldn't be helped and had let him go without hard feelings.

"G? You ok? That didn't hurt, did it?" Nick asked, bursting the bubble in Greg's head.

"No. No, I'm ok."

"You sure?" Nick had come around to face him. "Your face looks hot. Maybe you've got a fever." He didn't move.

"What, you're not gonna do the back of the hand against my forehead test?" Greg ducked his head at his stupidness.

"I'm not your mother. You want me to get the thermometer?"

"I'm fine. Really," he mumbled, feeling even more embarrassed. If only he could hide amongst the covers in bed. Maybe then things would be ok.

"Come on, let's get you into bed."

He looked back up at Nick, surprised that he wasn't going to make him do everything else on his own. He was even more surprised to see Nick's cheeks dusted in pink. He was probably just as embarrassed to be in the same room as a half naked guy as Greg was. But then again... how many locker rooms had Nick had, from high school, to college? He'd played baseball. He shouldn't be nervous about this. Unless he'd looked down and seen the proof of Greg's crush. Had he? It was hard to tell.

Rather than call him on it, Greg let Nick lead him to the bed. There was no need to draw attention to himself if Nick had miraculously missed it. As he sat down, a small jolt of pain slid through his left leg.

"Owww!"

"You ok? What happened?"

"It was just the back of my leg. Stop asking me that. You're sounding more and more like my mother. I didn't know you were this good at babying and taking care of the sick and wounded."

"Sorry."

Greg couldn't help but smile when Nick's cheeks went into a full on blush. He slid onto his side and let his crush pull the covers up over him.

"Shout if you need anything. Ok?"

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be in the livingroom. On the couch."

And Nick was spending the day... dear God... Thankfully, Nick backed out of the room rather quickly, shutting the door partway as he left.