Title: It Ends Tonight

Summary: One night changes everything for Greg and Nick as every hidden emotion comes out with terrifying results.

Genre: Drama/Romance

Warning: Slash. Some swearing.

Rating: M for adult content and use of profanity.

Timeline: Post season 10. No major spoilers, but there might be a few.

Pairing: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes (The Love)

Disclaimer: Don't own CSI. *sigh*

Author's Note: Hey guys! I haven't written a fan-fiction in a long time, and then this just came to me. Enjoy =)

Your subtleties
They strangle me
I can't explain myself at all
And all the wants
And all the needs
Well I don't want to need at all

-It Ends Tonight, The All-American Rejects

Greg and Nick sat alone in the locker room. Their legs straddled the bench, and they were so close that they Nick could feel Greg's breath on his face.

Greg shivered as he looked into Nick's eyes, their faces inches apart. A tension that had been building in Greg's spine since that night was now threatening to overpower him. He curled his hands around the bench underneath him, and his nails dug into the hard wood, as he shook with the need to reach out and touch the man sitting next to him.

Nick watched as Greg visibly shook in front of him. He felt a familiar tug at his heart, and reached out to his vulnerable and emotionally strung out friend. He instinctively brushed his hand across the younger man's cheek, leaving it to rest at his neck. Greg released a strangled moan, and looked deep into Nick's eyes. Nick swallowed hard, his whole body aching with longing, and his head spinning as he looked into Greg's eyes—confusion, fear, guilt, lust. He reached up with his other hand and brushed away strands of hair from Greg's sweaty forehead. He licked his lips, and trailed his thumb down Greg's nose, feeling him shiver at his touch. He looked Greg right in the eye, a wave of pleasure rushing through him as he watched Greg lose control.

Nick's other hand trailed down Greg's shoulder and came to rest at his elbow, and Greg gasped loudly, his body shaking violently as he tightened his grip on the bench below him, as if to remind himself that it was still there, because he was falling...

To Greg's horror, he let out a sob, the events of that night weighing down on him, and closed his eyes against the onslaught of tears.

"Hey," whispered Nick, his thumb wiping away Greg's tears, "Your okay now, G. Everything's okay now."

Greg raised a shaky hand and gripped Nick shoulder tightly, his nails digging into his neck. His chest constricted, and he struggled to breathe. He swayed slightly as he lifted up his other hand and traced Nick's lips. Breaking eye contact, Greg looked down at Nick's lips, and licked his own. He closed his eyes—he was losing control—and leaned forward...

Beep!

Nick's eyes shot open. He stared at Greg and swallowed audibly. Suddenly all physical contact was gone, and Nick's skin burned where Greg's nails had dug into his skin. He backed away, and fumbled with his pager. Suddenly unable to look Greg in the eye, he stared at the ground.

"It's Catherine. She needs me in her office," Nick mumbled.

Nick forced himself to stand and back away. He didn't dare look up at Greg again, or he'd be lost for sure—lost in Greg. Just as he reached the door, he felt a warm hand around his wrist. A shiver ran up his spine, and despite the voice in his head telling him not to, he turned around.

Greg's lips crashed against Nick's as he slammed him against the closed door. He ran his hands up Nick's chest, pushing up his black T-Shirt, and indulging in the soft skin under his hands and the warm tongue in his mouth. Nick ran his fingers through Greg's hair, grabbing it in his fist. He swung his leg around Greg's calves and pulled him closer. Greg felt his stress leave him as Nick pressed his entire body against his, and kissed him with more ferocity and passion than he could handle.

When Greg finally pulled away, Nick's entire body ached with lust. He wanted—needed—more, and that scared him. Looking deep into Greg's eyes, and hoping they conveyed that that was the best thing he had ever done, he turned the doorknob behind him and disappeared down the hall.

Greg collapsed against the doorframe and watched Nick retreat through the crowd. He stepped back into the locker room and closed the door, before sliding down it. With a thousand thoughts swirling around in his head, he closed his eyes and thought back to the night that started everything.

One Week Ago

"Freeze!"

And that's exactly what Greg did. His entire body tensed up, and for a few seconds his mind went blank. His camera slipped from his hands, and the sound of it hitting the ground jarred him from his state of shock. Holding his shaking hands above his head, he turned around slowly, and was not surprised to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Hey! I thought I told you to freeze!"

"I'm thirty-four years old," started Greg, trying to steady his voice, "My mother's name is Olivia. My dad died when I was eighteen. His name was Daniel. I'm an only child, so if you shoot-"

"Shut up!" the assailant hissed.

"If you shoot me, my mum will go crazy. And my team—my friends—they'll track you down. Killing a CSI, that's not a good idea. You don't wanna—"

"I said shut the fuck up!" the man screamed, cocking the gun.

Greg's heart stopped when he heard the ping of the gunshot. He blinked back tears of relief when he realized that the suspect hadn't shot at him. He fought back panic when he realized that the assailant was using a silencer, and that no one would hear the gunshot. He frowned in confusion when he saw the bullet hole in the cupboard door.

Greg's stomach dropped when he heard a yelp from inside the cupboard.

"There's a kid in there. A fucking teenager!" growled the assailant. He kicked the cupboard open to reveal a small boy, not older than fifteen, huddled in the corner of the cupboard.

The suspect cocked the gun and pointed it at the boy, "One shot, and he's dead. So shut the hell up, and let me think, goddamn it!"

Greg nodded slowly, not daring to say another word.

"You got a gun?"

Greg shook his head.

"You lyin' to me, kid? Do I need to come over there and check?"

Of course Greg was lying to him. Every inch of instinct that he had was telling him to just tell him the truth, but he needed the perpetrator to come frisk him. Anything to get him away from that poor kid.

The suspect trained the gun on Greg and walked towards him. Greg grimaced as the man placed his palm flat on Greg's chest and trailed it down his torso slowly. He shoved the gun against Greg's temple, and reached into his holster with the other hand. Greg's chest constricted with fear when the assailant pulled out the gun from his holster. The suspect grit his teeth in anger, and pistol-whipped Greg. His head whipped to one side, and he watched with blurry eyes as the suspect's gun fell to the floor and slid under the bed.

The suspect cocked Greg's gun and strode towards the cupboard, his face red with anger. Greg's head was spinning and he stepped towards the bed, trying to get the gun, and tripped and fell flat on his face.

"This is what happens when you lie to me, you son-of-a-bitch!"

Greg looked up from the floor, watching in horror as the assailant pulled the teenage boy out of the cupboard and tossed him on the floor. Placing a heavy boot on the boy's chest, he pointed Greg's gun at his head.

"This is your goddamn fault," the suspect growled to Greg.

Greg forced himself to stand and threw himself on the suspect, just as he pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed in Greg's head, and it vaguely registered to him that the cops outside would have heard the shot.

Greg wrestled with the suspect for a while, trying to get the gun away from him. He stopped moving when he heard the gunshot, and his head spun. His chest felt heavy, and he suddenly couldn't breathe. He licked his lips, and panicked when he tasted blood. He fell to the floor, and it took a moment to register that he hadn't been shot. He crawled out from underneath the dead assailant, and looked down in horror at his bloodstained light blue T-shirt.

He dropped the gun and crawled towards the bleeding boy lying on the floor. He pressed his fingers to the gunshot wound in the boy's neck. The teenager let out a strangled sob, and reached up to grab hold of Greg's sleeve, pulling him forward, weakly.

"So c-c-old," the boy whispered.

"I know. I know..." whispered Greg, running his fingers through the kid's floppy blond hair, as he pulled him into his lap. Greg yanked off his jacket and laid it gently over the boy.

"I-it hurts," whimpered the young boy.

Greg looked distraughtly at his fingers pressed against the boy's neck. Blood was still pouring out from between Greg's fingers, so he pulled off his shirt and pressed it against the wound.

"Tell Mum-" the boy coughed weakly, blood flecking his lips. "Tell Mum I got a D in Math."

Another cough wracked his body, and he closed his eyes, his breath loud and shallow.

"No," Greg's voice cracked and his eyes filled with tears, "No, you tell her yourself. I'm going to help you. You're not gonna die...You can't die...Don't die, goddamn it!"

"Sanders!" Brass entered the room, his gun drawn. "What the hell happened here, Greg?" he exclaimed when he saw the younger man, shirtless and bent over a dead body. "Greg!"

"Greg!"

Greg started and scrambled to his feet. He yanked open the locker room door to find Ray Langston looking over him curiously.

"Hey Ray," he replied breathlessly.

"I think we managed to identify the victim," Langston replied, looking over the disheveled CSI skeptically.

"Yeah? Did you call his parents? The boy couldn't have been a day over fifteen!"

Langston frowned. "Greg, the victim was a seventy-two-year-old female."

Review please. I don't have a beta (I'm looking for one though) so all mistakes are mine.