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Title: Coping II
Author: Laurelgardner
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gil/Greg, established relationship
Summary: The second part of this story. Greg awakes to find a note from Gil and decides to investigate.
Author's Note/Warnings: More lovely hurt/comfort. At least, I hope it's lovely. It might be a load of utter burk, I'm not sure. It's un-betaed, and boy, were there birthing pains with this fic. Also, I know I've been developing the hell out of this relationship, so I'm hoping the next few chapters will be nothing but hawt secks. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: CSI and all the characters therein belong to someone other than me.
He was driving too fast.
Glancing at the display above the dash, Greg frowned. He liked speed, sure, but he didn't like to drive over the speed limit. It always made him feel nervous, guilty, even if it was just five or ten miles over like this. He expected to hear, at any moment, the wail of a traffic cop about to pull him over, and wouldn't that help him get to where he was headed on time!
But he didn't slow down. At this rate, he would easily get there in fifteen minutes, rather than the normal twenty or more. He wasn't sure why he felt so urgent about this, but he couldn't help it. Somehow, he had to be at Red Rock, and he had to be there now.
He reached one hand down from the steering wheel to pat his jacket pocket, making sure his cell phone really was there. He couldn't call Gil right now, so he needed to be ready in case Gil called him. He was reassured by the sturdy feel of the object through the cloth, rustling against the not-quite-as-familiar sheet of paper he'd stuffed there before leaving his apartment.
Oh yes.
He was tempted to take that piece of paper out again, to read it one more time and convince himself that he knew what he was doing, that he was heading to the right place. But he knew it wouldn't give him any more clues than it already had, and besides, if speeding was a bad thing, then speeding plus reading while you drive was a very bad thing.
He managed not to miss his exit, following the road signs that lead him down the now-familiar paths to the Red Rock Canyon National Park. Now he did slow down a little, because it would be very embarassing if he accidently hit a mountain lion and had to explain that to his boyfriend who would not, Greg supposed, be amused.
He drove through the visitor's entrance, pausing at the gate to fish out his wallet and fork over the $3 admission fee, $5 parking fee (how did they keep this thing going with prices like that?), then pulled into the enormous parking lot.
Greg found a space at the far east corner and stepped out of his car, taking in his surroundings. Despite it being a weeknight in December, not exactly the preferred time of year for this kind of tourist spot, there was a small smattering of vehicles spread throughout the lot. He spotted at least three Chevy Tahoes right off the bat, dark in color, but the sun was setting and Greg couldn't tell if they were black or blue. He could read the license plates, but sheepishly realized that he wouldn't know Grissom's number from any other. Only one of them had Nevada plates, though.
Bingo. Maybe.
Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the note, the one Grissom had left in his kitchen for Greg to find when he woke up. He read it one more time;
I have to take a walk. I brought my phone. I'll be back soon. What do you want for dinner? I'm cooking.
See you soon.
G²
Upon finding the message, Greg had immediately tried calling, only to find that, while Gil may have brought his cell phone, he did not have it turned on. And that was very odd; Grissom never turned off his phone.
So Greg had acted on a hunch. He'd seen Gil's Tahoe missing from the parking lot and remembered a place within driving distance that was good to walk in, a place he'd taken Greg once, within Red Rock. It was a big park, but this spot was a well kept secret; you could sit there for hours and not see or hear any sign of another living human being. It was the perfect cure for everything Las Vegas.
Greg remembered the time Grissom brought him out here for a picnic...man, was that ever nice. It was early in the relationship, like two weeks into it, right around the time when Greg was just starting to realize that things were about to settle down and really start to gel between the two at the time, the time he started to relax and not think about bolting after every encounter. Yes, Greg remembered that night; the champagne, making out like teenagers under a damn rock formation, fighting the overwhelming temptation to stay and make love right there, even though Greg's place was only minutes away because it was just so sweet...
He couldn't help but smile, but he remembered what he was there for. His eyes scanned the parking lot, trying to remember which way they went to find it. Wasn't it that path? Yes, the one that wasn't paved, that didn't even look like a path until you were almost close enough to start walking on it. Greg approached it, and sure enough, he saw a set of footprints. Could be Gil's. He followed them, wondering how long ago Gil had passed this way. Maybe he was just a few hundred yards ahead of Greg. Then again, maybe he was already back at the apartment, cooking dinner and wondering where the hell his boyfriend was.
Greg wasn't sure why he was here, really, why he was doing this. He wasn't worried about Grissom, not about his bodily safety, at any rate. And he felt quite sure that if he'd just waited at home, Gil would have returned to him within a couple hours, just in time to enjoy a perfectly normal, pleasant evening together.
But somehow, Greg had wanted to go to him. Something was up with Gil; he knew that when he read the note, something involving that part of Gil that Greg hadn't seen yet, had only guessed at. He knew it was rude, tracking Gil down, barging in on him like this when he clearly wanted solitude... but Greg was learning that sometimes imprudence was the only way to get anywhere in this relationship.
Greg kept his head up as he walked, taking in his surroundings. There had been sunset the last time he was here too, he remembered. A nice one, too, but this one was looking like it would be even better. He wondered if maybe he would't find Gil in that very spot, the one by the cliff that would, at least in Greg's mind, be forever 'theirs.' He knew he'd like that in a moment of pain, a reminder of that amazing night, of the guy he loved. But maybe Gil didn't want to be reminded of Greg right now, maybe that was why he left; he wanted to get away...
Greg shook his head. Fuck that kind of thinking, it was pointless; if Gil wanted out, Greg would know it. No point in worrying about that until it happened.
He kept watching the footprints. When the path turned off to the place he, sure enough, the prints did too. Greg followed them, smiling when he saw the back of the huge boulder, the rock formation they'd had so much fun under.
He came around the bend, fully expecting to see Gil on the other side. But before he saw Gil, he heard him.
He heard a long, raw yell of pain, and he panicked at first because it sounded like Gil was hurt, broke his ankle or something.. He came running around the rock formation to see Gill up near the cliff with his back to Greg, looking out over the gorge.
He looked angry, angry like Greg had never seen him before. Gil hurled something over the edge, hard. It was just a stick or something, just a harmless, futile gesture of rage, but it startled Greg nonetheless. Then he stood at the edge shouted something over the vast, empty space beyond. It was a moment before Greg's brain could process what the words were:
"Not yet! Do you hear me? Not yet!"
And as Greg watched, the screaming turned to sobbing and Gil Grissom fell to his knees, crumpled with his head down, weeping.
As astounded and confused as he was, the biggest thing that hit Greg then was the simple truth that there's only one thing you can do when someone you love that much is sitting there like that. So he did it. He ran to where Grissom was, crouched down next to him in the dust, and held him.
Grissom, clearly startled to see him there, lifted his head. Embarassed, he tried to get up, to move away, but Greg held him tight, pulled him in, and finally, Gil accepted the comforting embrace.
Greg was speechless with wonder. As far as he knew, no one, no one had ever seen Gil Grissom like this before. He was sobbing into Greg's shoulder, holding on to him like a drowning man to a life preserver. How bad was it, Greg wondered, that he couldn't even try to stop or hide it?
"Greg," said Gil, his voice choked.
"Shhh," Greg soothed, rocking them both a little. "Hey. It's okay." He kissed Gil's forehead, stroke his back a little as the man is began to calm. After a moment, Gil pulled away a little, wiping his eyes.
Suddenly, Greg remembered that he had a packet of tissues in one of his pockets. He fished them out.
"You see?" he said, handing one to Gil. "The best time to give Kleenex to a crying loved one is after you've already gotten tears and mucus everywhere. Makes perfect sense."
Gil emitted a short, quiet laugh as he accepted the offering. Greg kept one arm around him as he cleaned up, holding him tightly and trying to squeeze some reassurance into him by osmosis if he could. "How did you find me here, Greg?"
"Evidence," said Greg, smiling and feeling just the tiniest swell of pride. "So, d'you wanna talk about it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Nope."
Grissom smiled that odd smile of his, the one that was half-grimace. He suddenly looked very much himself again.
"This morning," he said, "I told you I let things go."
"Yeah?"
Gil sighed. "The truth is, I never let anything go. Not entirely, anyway. I don't forget much. It's important to remember details from case to case; each time, you learn things that might help you on the next one."
"Sure," Greg agreed.
"But it's impossible to remember what something is without remembering what it means. And for me, somehow, it all adds up gradually. I don't notice it happening, but then, every once in a while..." his eyes filled with a distant sort of calm, "I feel like I'm not going to be able to do this anymore."
Greg nodded. "Makes sense," he said softly. "So who were you shouting at just now?"
Grissom shrugged, looking a little embarassed. "I don't know. God. The forces of fate. I wasn't thinking very clearly."
Greg gaped. He had never heard Gil talk about spiritual matters, not in terms of his own beliefs, anyway.
"And what does 'not yet' mean?"
Grissom's face darkened again. He looked...a little afraid.
"It means I'm not going to stop," he said softly.
Greg craned his head in closer to Gil, tightening his grip around the man's shoulders. "Do you think someone up there's trying to make you stop?"
Greg waited for an answer, but Gil gave him none. He stared forward, darkly, for a moment, then, without meeting Greg's eyes, he stood up.
Greg sprung up after him and stood in his way, blocking his path. "No dice," he said firmly, "You're gonna talk to me."
Grissom shrugged. "There's nothing else to say," he said, a little apologetically. "I had a moment. It happens sometimes. But I'm fine now."
Greg groaned. He buried his face in one palm.
Grissom reached out a tentative hand to touch his shoulder. Greg looked up into Gil's brightly confused face. "But...thank you," he said. It almost sounded like a question.
Slowly shaking his head, Greg slapped his hand on top of Gil's where it touched him. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you," he said.
Gil gave him a thoughtful look, mouth half-pursed and wide eyescast downward, then said. "You come home with me, you let me make you dinner, and then...we go to work. How does that sound?"
Greg thought about it, then nodded. "Okay. But first, let's get the sand off our asses."
Gil laughed at that, not a lot, but without any reservation. They dusted off, then headed back down the path, walking at a leisurely pace. Gil put his arm around Greg's shoulders.
"Greg," he said quietly, leaning in to him "You, um...you know I'm...working on it, right?"
Greg frowned, confused. "Working on what?"
Gil shrugged. "This. Us...talking."
Greg nodded. "Sure."
"I'm glad you came. I... should have stayed home tonight."
Greg smiled at that. "You could have." He wrapped his own arm around Gil, weaving it up to rest on his other shoulder. "I'm here whenever you need me." He massaged Gil's shoulder with his fingertips. "You said it gets bad every once in a while. What was it that set you off this time?"
Gil sighed, blowing the air out loudly through his cheeks. He looked at Greg.
"Seeing you like that last night," he said.
Greg didn't reply, he was too stunned. They walked on in silence together, hands gripping shoulders just a little tighter than they needed to. They walked through trees for a while, then came to another clear area. Greg peered out over the canyon, then past it, to the horizon.
Yup. He'd been right about the sunset.
December 21 2004, 18:03:40 UTC 7 years ago
This is a helluva fine story in every respect, but that particular image just floored me. Damn, girl! You rock my world. :)
December 22 2004, 06:59:44 UTC 7 years ago
Yup. He'd been right about the sunset."
That line got me.
Gil being vulnerable really got to me too. In cannon he rarely, if ever, shows his vulnerable side...and that usually carries on to fanfiction as well, so it was fresh to see a side of Gil so human.
And as always, I enjoyed the beautiful imagery and your portrayal of Gil and Greg. :)
December 22 2004, 15:48:20 UTC 7 years ago
Hmm...I think I feel an essay coming on.
March 15 2005, 09:24:41 UTC 7 years ago
December 21 2004, 19:05:30 UTC 7 years ago
Wow. Loved it.
You'll hear more from me later.
December 22 2004, 16:50:45 UTC 7 years ago