Disclaimer: CSI and its characters are the intellectual
property of CBS, Alliance Atlantis, and Jerry Bruckheimer. 
All original characters are the property of YS McCool.

Title: South
Author: YS McCool
Email: ysmccool@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.squidge.org/~flashpoint/
Permission to archive: Yes to WWOMB, CSISlash
Fandom(s): CSI
Genre: Slash
Pairing/Characters: Warrick/Nick/Gil
Series: Hit the Ground Running 5/5
Sequel: Learning Curve
Rating: NC-17 (FRAO)
Summary: The team heads to Silver Lakes and temptation. 
Chapter Nine -- The boys have some decisions to make.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None

                             South
                          By YS McCool

Chapter Nine.  Home?


Elaine knew that Gil was the weakest link, he was already
halfway to Silver Lakes.  The man could be anywhere and call
it home, but Rayburn was fairly certain that only Nick and
Warrick could make that place a real home.  She didn't waste
her time with him, he was already hers.

Nick would also be happy to make a new home in Silver Lakes. 
He fit in here, he was close enough to his first home to
drive there in half a day, but far enough away that few
people had ever heard of his parents.  Again, Elaine didn't
bother to work on the man.  Nick would not resist.

Warrick was the lynchpin.  If he said "no", then it was
over.  Neither Nick nor Gil would leave him behind and who
could blame them?  Elaine rescued the man from the clutches
of two of Nick's sisters by telling them that she'd made
extra pies for the Stokes family to take home with them and
that they needed to retrieve them from the refrigerator
before Bobby and Greg smelled them.  They rushed away
because if their uncles had heard the word "pie" there would
be none left.

"Can I have a little talk with you, Warrick?" Elaine
inquired.

"Sure, Elaine," he agreed, giving her his easy smile. 
Warrick had the well-satisfied look of a man who had been
successfully laid the night before.

They walked out to the pool, which was finally empty as
everyone was still eating, packing, and preparing to depart.

"So, what did you think of our little town?" Elaine asked
once they were seated.

"It's great," Warrick assured her.

"But it's no Vegas," she finished.

"Vegas is in a class by itself, Elaine," he tried to
explain.

Elaine understood, but she had no fondness for Vegas. In
fact, she hated it, but that was a personal story and
Rayburn did not plan to put the man on the defensive by
telling it.  "Could you live, work, teach, and settle down
here?" she asked.

Warrick was quiet for a split second and she knew in that
moment there was something or someone holding him back.  "I
could," he answered.

"Have you, Nick, and Gil discussed it yet?" she asked. 
Elaine didn't think it was too personal a question to ask.

"We decided to wait until we were driving back," Warrick
answered.  "The surroundings are too... seductive for
discussions of that magnitude."

Elaine smiled.  "I understand.  I'd bounce their bones too."

Warrick laughed.  "Being in the cottage just seems to bring
out the beast in us."

Elaine rubbed her neck with her water bottle.  It didn't
help.  Warrick grinned at her, making it worse.  Sometimes,
being able to visualize things with highly accurate detail
made concentrating on other more immediate things very
difficult.  She could see Nick's bare skin, a heavy sheen of
sweat clinging to it, as the chords in his neck stood out as
Gil sucked him down to the root and Warrick filled his
beautiful ass.  Yep, not the way to be seeing them at the
moment.

"Were you comfortable here?" she asked, switching subjects. 
"It must have been quite a shock going from such a busy city
to here."

Warrick nodded.  "It was at first.  I just kept waiting for
them to roll up the sidewalks on us, then I found the night
scene.  Man, you really have some hot clubs here.  We didn't
even get to hit half of them."

"Did you make it to The Palette?" Elaine inquired.  It was
one of her favorite hot spots.

"No," Warrick answered, his attention captured.  "What's it
like?"

"Live band or DJ, professional dancers wearing nothing but
body paint and g-strings, crap food so eat before you go,
but great drinks.  Sometimes they have these muscle-bound
beauties, male and female, posing in the swings or flying
over the crowd.  A friend had her fortieth birthday party
there and she made love to six different men behind the
canvas and it was silhouetted for all of us to see."  Elaine
snickered.  "What a screamer."

"It's always the quiet ones who go screamer on you," Warrick
said sagely.  He sounded like he was speaking from
experience.

'So, Gil is a screamer,' she thought.  Too much information
on a man well off the market.

"She made the glasses rattle," Elaine reported, remembering
her friend's big day.  "You ought to take Gil to Belly. 
They'd worship him there."

"Belly?" Warrick asked.

"It's a hard core blues bar with a strange kink."  Elaine
leaned within conspiracy range.  "No one knows why, but
Belly is the place to go if you have a bear fetish.  It's a
bisexual establishment.  A furry silver fox like Gil would
end up stripped to the waist and dancing on the bar to a
weeping guitar.  Between songs, his admirers would drink
shots of whiskey out of his navel."

Warrick went bug-eyed.  "Oh man," he moaned.  Brown
shivered.  "Maybe we can go tomorrow."

"You should," Elaine encouraged.  "You can do that here, but
you cannot do that in Vegas.  I can't offer you a better
salary, but your money will go further here.  I can,
however, guarantee you that every management position will
be open as you advance.  You get the faculty rate for
continuing your education at the University.  You will be
paid to teach classes there in Investigative Techniques,
Criminal Justice, and even Street Slang.  You will never,
ever be hassled by a cop, a prosecutor, or even a bail
bondsmen in this city for being gay.  Not if they want to
keep working here.

"When you get invited to conferences, we pay.  If you're
invited to speak or present, we not only pay, we give you a
little extra for making us look good.  You can be home here,
Warrick."  Elaine decided she'd said enough.

"Hey, Elaine, what about the brownies?" Grace, one of Nick's
many sisters, asked.

"Darling, don't touch those brownies if you value your life
and the lives of your children," Elaine responded.  "Those
are for Bobby and ballistics is his game.  Your bodies would
be riddled with untraceable bullets."

"Good warning," Grace said admirably before going back into
the kitchen.

Warrick snickered.  "How does that family stay so slim when
they eat so much?"

"That's company eating, when you intentionally overfeed, not
their everyday eating style," she explained.

"Oh."  Warrick looked back toward the cottage, his
expression wistful.

"It'll be waiting for you," Elaine promised.  "All I need is
an email to make it official and a phone call to make it
family."  She stood up and Warrick immediately rose to his
feet also.  "We better get back in there before they try to
sneak off with those brownies.  I will not have blood
splatter in my kitchen."

          <><><>=============<><><>=============<><><>

Gil had gone over this in his mind again and again and
again.  Now it was time to ask the question.  They seemed to
have decided that the truck had to be physically out of
Arkansas before the subject could be raised.  "Warrick, what
do you think?"

"It's a great opportunity.  The lab has so much potential. 
We could spearhead the growth of its reputation instead of
riding the coattails of those who came before us.  You could
work your magic, Gil, and Nick could take some rookies under
his wing and guide them to being the best investigators they
can be," Warrick declared.

"That's sweet, Rick," Nicky declared, leaning over the seat
and kissing the back of Warrick's neck.

"What about you, Nick?" Gil asked.

"It was like being home, but without being 'Judge Stokes's
kid'.  We did some class A investigating.  We solved cases.  
It was great.  I've never walked into a place knowing I
already had everyone's respect before and I didn't have to
earn it.  That blew me away."  Nick rubbed the back of Gil's
neck without brushing Grissom's spot.  "It felt good,
natural, even."

"Yeah," Gil agreed, "my stint as Lord of All Insects,
notwithstanding."  Nick and Warrick began to snicker.  He
scowled.  "It's not funny," he warned.

How could they have found that funny?  Sanders needed to
suffer for that stunt.  Those poor little kids and their
reasonably accurate handmade insects.  He had to admit the
centipede, composed of a segmented paper towel tube and pipe
cleaners, was very well done and the ladybug had been quite
beautiful.  Grissom had insisted the young lady sign the
work because it was that good.

"Okay, it was a tiny bit funny, but only a tiny bit,"
Grissom admitted after a bit.  He'd never seen Hank laugh
that hard in his life.  Renata could only speak Italian. 
Make that squeak Italian.  Sara had gotten the hiccups,
which had made everyone else laugh the harder.  Only Jim
seemed to be able to hold it together, but he did turn away
several times while continuing to film the entire disaster.

"Forgive us, oh great lord," Warrick begged.

"Do not crush us in your mighty mandibles," Nick pleaded.

Cute.  Gil knew how to strike back.  "The center of the bed
is going to be really cold tonight," he warned.  That
sobered them up.  Silence reigned for several seconds. 
"Much better.  Warrick, do you want to take the job?"

"Guys, I know I'm not the only one my Grams can count on in
Vegas, but I'm not comfortable with the thought of being
over a thousand miles away."  Warrick didn't need to go on. 
For a long time, Ruth was all he had.  It was only recently
that his uncles and their families had moved to Henderson. 
They were almost strangers to him.   That reason was enough
to keep him in Vegas and where Warrick lived was where Gil
wanted to be.

"Then let's not say anything else," Gil suggested, and no
one disagreed.  Grissom gave himself ten seconds to mourn
the Silver Lakes job and the Dragonfly House.  He vowed to
never mention it again and Gil knew he could count on Nick
to do the same.

          <><><>=============<><><>=============<><><>

Catherine hated when people moped.  Nick, Gil, and Warrick
were moping.  She was sure they were still going hard at it
in bed and the job was being done, but when one of them was
out of sight of the others, they moped.

Willows didn't need a truck to hit her to know what was
going on.  They wanted to leave but one of them was holding
the other two back.  It didn't take a genius to figure out
who was the holdout and once that was known, the reason fell
right into place.

That's why she was sitting in the older woman's kitchen,
sipping coffee and dishing the dirt.  "So Gil's office is
decorated with all of that artwork.  It's just adorable."

Ruth, a.k.a Grams, Brown laughed softly.  "My poor Gil.  He
just can't adjust to his ... exalted position."  She
tittered and pushed the tray of ultra delicious, carb-packed
cookies toward Catherine and Willows had two.

"Jim has film and is accepting cash for a copy," Catherine
reported.  "I don't know how he kept that camera steady."

Ruth smiled.  "This has been quite pleasant, Catherine.  You
know how I love to dish, but that's not why you're here, is
it?"

"Did they tell you that Doctor Rayburn offered all of them a
job there?" Catherine asked.

"I assumed that was the reason she asked you down in the
first place," Ruth reasoned.  "Obviously it didn't live up
to their expectations or they would have taken the
positions."

She said that so firmly that Catherine was a little taken
aback.  "Ruth, Nick and Gil didn't take it because it would
have meant leaving Warrick behind."

Ruth frowned.  "Did that Rayburn woman not offer my Warrick
a job?  Is she stupid?  Warrick is the best investigator in
the lab, maybe the country."

"No argument here," Catherine assured the woman, hoping to
soothe her feathers.  "Elaine offered Warrick a job, a
chance to complete his Masters, and a place to stay until
they found a house of their own."

Ruth frowned.  "Then I don't understand," the older woman
insisted.  "The way Warrick was acting, I thought it hadn't
worked out.  Are you telling me he's passing up a great
opportunity like this?  Why?"

Catherine touched Ruth's hand.  "He doesn't want to leave
you alone."

Ruth looked shocked.  "Alone?  What am I, some aged, blind
dog?" she demanded.  "I am not alone, Catherine.  I have
friends, I have family, and I have visitors."

Visitors = men friends, Catherine interpreted.  'You go,
girl.'  She hoped she was still getting it when she reached
Ruth's age.

"It gets worse," Catherine warned.

"What?" Ruth asked, her defensive posture obvious.

"I think Warrick is going to break up with Nick and Gil so
they will leave," Catherine guessed.  "I can see him working
himself up to it, Ruth.  He'll convince himself it was for
the best and for the men he loves.  Warrick just has no idea
that they will fall apart without him."

Ruth calmly refreshed her coffee cup.  "Catherine, silly
damsels in long skirts send good men away, but that's only
in books.  I'd like to think Warrick is smarter than that."

"He's not thinking, Ruth, and that's one of the big
problems.  He can't see this clearly.  I don't think Warrick
has ever realized exactly how much he means to Nick and Gil. 
Not really.  Warrick only knows how much they mean to him. 
They mean more to him than his personal happiness.  I heard
him say that.  That's when I knew he was working himself up
to sending them away."

"We'll see about that," Ruth said, pushing the cookie plate
toward Catherine again.

Willows, weak willed, snatched up another one even though
she hadn't finished the ones she had.  She could say she was
taking it home to Lindsey, but it was a lie.  By the time
she made it home, even the crumbs would be a distant memory.

It was a comfort to know that Ruth had things under control.

          <><><>=============<><><>=============<><><>

Warrick paced back and forth, practicing in his head the
words that would shatter him but set Nick and Gil free to
pursue their dreams.  It was for the best.  His Grams was
his responsibility, not theirs.  He could visit, if they
would allow it.  What was he thinking?  Once he said those
damning words, they would never want to see his face, hear
his name, or think about him ever again.

He didn't hit the wall.  Not because he didn't want to but
because his hands already hurt too much.  "I'm sorry, Gil,"
he moaned.  "So sorry, Nick."

The sound of his doorbell shocked him.  Gil and Nick had
keys.  He looked out to see his Grams standing there and a
taxi waiting at the curb.  "Grams?"

His grandmother Ruth never took taxis, who were bandits
preying on the confused.  Why should she take a taxi when
the buses ran 24/7?  Besides, if the bus was good enough for
Rosa Parks, it was good enough for Ruth Brown.

"Baby, would you pay that man?" she asked, stepping inside.

Warrick rushed out and paid the fare, a travesty that
mysteriously corrected itself to about half the price when
the driver saw his badge.  He returned to his townhouse.

"I wish I'd known you were coming over Grams, I would have
made you something," Warrick said as he closed the door. 
His grandmother never rode in cabs and she never came over
to his place without calling once she knew about Nick.  She
loved her grandson no matter who he had fallen in love with,
but she did not want to see it.  Something was wrong.

"Baby, you don't have to put yourself out for me," Grams
declared as she took a seat on the couch.  "I need to talk
to you about Silver Lakes."

Warrick felt his stomach tighten.  He glanced out of the
window, almost expecting Gil and Nick to be pulling into the
driveway.  "It just wasn't meant to be, Grams, but Nick and
Gil could go.  Should go," he corrected as he sat beside
her.

"And you'll just stay behind like some heroine left on the
shore?"  She snorted.  "Warrick, that would eat out your
insides as sure as if you'd swallowed Drano."  She gazed at
him levelly.  "Didn't you sit in my kitchen, holding Nick's
hand, and tell me he was your man?"

Warrick swallowed.  "Yes, I did."

"I've never seen you afraid of me before, Baby," Grams
stated.  "You couldn't let go of his hand and Nick wouldn't
let you.  The two of you were ready to take me on and he was
ready to support you if I wasn't sensible enough to see your
love as a good thing after Tracy and Jeanette."

Warrick used to believe he'd always hurt when he heard those
women's names.  He was wrong.  Jeanette was a dull ache, but
it was for their daughter Kennedy.  Tracy was almost totally
forgotten.  Warrick had to concentrate in order to bring her
face to his mind.

"Was Silver Lakes too small for you?" she asked.  "Did it
lack excitement?"

"It had a different kind of excitement," he answered.  "It
was the little town that could and they are very proud of
that.  We all really enjoyed ourselves.  Gil's birthday was
a highlight, but it wasn't the only one."

"Warrick, do you want to work there?" Grams asked, giving
him the "don't lie to me, boy" look.  It had been a very
long time since he'd seen that look directed at him.  It was
when he'd had to tell her how much money he'd lost gambling.

Brown tried to come up with a way to say no when the truth
was yes.  "There are problems," he tried.

"Yes or no, young man," she said sternly.

Warrick checked the driveway and it was still empty. 
"Grams, I would love to go there, but I need to stay close
to you.  Nick and Gil... they need to go.  It's such a
wonderful opportunity for them."

"All they have to do is leave you behind," Grams finished. 
She clapped him on the side of the head.

"Ow," Warrick complained as he moved out of range.  "Why did
you do that?" he demanded.

"Because your brain isn't sitting in the right spot,
Warrick, and I needed to adjust it," Grams answered,
obviously angry.  "I know you remember how torn up you were
when Jeanette went back to that bald man."  Grams always
called Jeanette's husband, Gary, "that bald man".  "Don't
you think Gil and Nick will feel just as bad, if not worse? 
Baby, that kind of pain and loss will eat at them until it
breaks them apart.

"So instead of three men united, it will be three lonely men
who can never trust another soul with their hearts.  You
will be here, Nick will go back to Texas, Gil will drift off
until he's only surrounded by strangers."  Her eyes were
moist.  "Don't do that, Baby.  Don't hurt my boys like
that."

Warrick didn't want to cry, but the tears were flowing.  He
could see Gil lost and alone, his trust completely
shattered.  And Nick.  Nick would fade into his family, be
the "best uncle" and never build his own life.  Both men
would curse his name.  Warrick would be too eaten with guilt
to risk anyone else's heart because they would all have to
compete with the ghosts of Nick and Gil.

Nick and Gil walked in without ringing the bell.  Nick was
balancing two grocery bags while Gil was bringing Warrick's
dry cleaning inside.

"Lucy, we're home," Nick teased.  The smile on the man's
face vanished when he saw the two Browns sitting on the
couch.

"You should have seen --" Grissom stopped.  He dropped the
dry cleaning bag and rushed over to Warrick.  That made
Warrick feel even guiltier for his plans.  "What's
happened?" Gil asked, his hands caressing Warrick's face.

"Warrick was just telling me how much the three of you
wanted to go to Silver Lakes and I was reminding him that I
have two sons, two daughters-in-law, and nine other
grandchildren," Grams answered.  She patted Warrick's
shoulder.  "You boys have a lot to do.  Three houses to
sell, all of that furniture to move, plus the packing."  She
smiled mischievously.  "I know you're not expecting me to
pitch in, Boys.  I'm old and helpless.  I can't be doing all
of that manual labor."

Warrick started to laugh and Gil hugged him more tightly. 
Nick carried the groceries into the kitchen.  Everything was
so normal that you would never have guessed how close
Warrick had come to destroying it all in a stupid attempt to
"do the right thing".

"Ricky, it's okay," Gil insisted.  "Maybe Ruth will get more
action now that we won't be hanging around and scaring off
her men."

Warrick clung to the older man, not speaking.  Not daring to
speak.  All he could do was cling.  Gil kept promising
everything would be alright and Warrick needed to hear that
in order to believe it.

"Excuse me, Grams," Nick said softly as he squeezed in
between Warrick and Grams.  "I need some of this."  He
wrapped his arms around Warrick and Gil, too.

"I'll see about some food," Grams offered, vacating the
couch.

"She's not upset, Ricky," Gil declared, his voice sounding
totally reasonable, as usual.  "You are not abandoning her. 
We wouldn't go if you were."

"I was going to tell you two to go," Warrick confessed, "and
to leave me here."  The hugging ended abruptly.

"What makes you think that would fly?" Nick asked, his voice
gruff.

"Because it was the best thing for you," Warrick answered.

"But we're not idiots, Warrick.  We'd know what you were
doing and why and we'd stay," Gil informed him.

"And spank you daily for trying it," Nick added.

Warrick hiccuped.  "I didn't want you to hate me once you
realized what you'd given up to stay with me.  I couldn't
take that."  It was the first time he'd really put into
words the gut-wrenching panic he'd begun to feel the moment
they'd seen the "Welcome to Las Vegas" sign.   

"You're not thinking, Warrick," Gil admonished.  "We were
perfectly happy in Vegas before we went to Silver Lakes, we
would still be happy if we stuck together."

"Silver Lakes isn't perfect, Warrick," Nick added.  "They
have mosquitoes the size of small helicopters there."

"They have to borrow the Philharmonic Orchestra from Little
Rock," Gil added distastefully.  "They only have one
repertory theater and the Broadway Series was performing
'The Lion King'.  Yuck."

"The Silver Wolves kicked the Cowboys' ass twice last year
and that must not be encouraged," Nick declared.  "The
Cowboys are America's football team, not the bitches of the
Silver Lake Silver Wolves.  30 to 10 and 27 to 3?  It was a
travesty."

"The Crime Lab has helicopters and teaches highly stressed
adrenaline junkies how to fly them," Gil reminded him. 
"That can't be wise."

"When they say a movie is opening up in a 'selected city',
you know they're never talking about Silver Lakes, or any
other city in Arkansas," Nick informed him.

"I'd have to run your admirers over with my heavily tricked
out truck to keep the numbers down," Gil insisted.  "I know
how to hide bodies, but all that lifting and dragging will
be bad for my back."

Warrick couldn't suppress a laugh.  "What about that crowd
at Belly?" he asked.  "Nick had to threaten a couple of them
with the fire extinguisher."

"The next touch would have been their last," Stokes assured
them.

The threesome had walked into Belly to find a smoking club
atmosphere, leather arm chairs, wooden tables heavy enough
to support three dancing men and not budge, a live band
fronted by a bluesman, named Big Sonny, you knew had been
through the wringer two or three times, and some really good
food.

The host, a huge, handsome brother named Adolphus, took one
look at Gil and declared Grissom's money was no good in his
place.  The drinks started arriving from other men and women
before their seats could get warm.  While the front man sang
about divorcing his trifling wife and marrying his much more
attentive mother-in-law, the three men went from surveying
the club and its denizens to dancing, laughing, and singing
along.

By round two, Gil was on the table sans shirt and shaking
what his momma gave him; purely as "an exercise in the
cultural dynamics of pursuing our more primitive state". 
Yeah, right.  Warrick's Sugar Bear off on being admired just
like everyone else did.  They'd closed the place down just
as the sun was coming up.  No one had to teach them how to
stay up late.  Grissom had been almost too hot to handle by
the time they returned to the cottage.  For once, Gil had
worn both Nick and Warrick out sexually.

Warrick stroked the other man's silver-shot curls and
matching beard, which had driven the bear-loving crowd wild. 
They actually hushed when he spoke.  At least two women were
ready to conceive his fur-bearing babies right there.  Yeah,
Belly was a dangerous place to take a man like Gil Grissom.

Knowing how close he was to making an even bigger fool of
himself by crying, Warrick turned away from Gil, only to
come face-to-face with Nick.  Stokes's big brown eyes held
him hard.  So damn hard.  These were the eyes that Warrick
found nearly impossible to resist.  While his professed
weakness was for Nicky's ass and sometimes his smile, Nick's
eyes were Warrick's true Achilles' heel.

"As dumb as it was to think we'd fall for your game and
leave you, Warrick," Nick began, "it defies all logic for
you to believe you could do without us."

Warrick felt as if he were falling and spinning.  He closed
his eyes reflexively and opened them to find himself looking
up toward the ceiling.  His head was nestled in Nick's lap. 
Nick and Gil were hovering over him.

Nick traced Warrick's lower lip with his thumb and Warrick
sucked it into his mouth without thinking.  In that simple
gesture, Stokes had proved himself right.  Nick didn't have
to say a word.  They all knew his point had been quite
successfully made.  Warrick would have gone crazy without
them.

"I'm sorry," Warrick sniffed.  They were holding him again
and he was forgiven.

"Can you tell me one thing, Warrick?" Gil asked, his voice
holding a pain Warrick knew he'd caused.  "Can you tell me
why?"

"I didn't want to be Sara," Warrick answered without pausing
to think.  "I didn't want to be so caught up in what I
wanted and needed that I couldn't see you were better off
without me.  Warrick Brown does not cling.  Gil would
finally be in an environment where...  Damn, Nicky, you saw
it.  Did anyone once give him that strange sideways look
when he spouted off some scientific tidbit or appropriate
quote?  Okay, so no one on the team or many of the techs
here would ever do it, but Gil was explaining why that
homemade cleaner worked so well on the bloodstain to the
head of maintenance and the woman was hanging on his every
word."

"She wanted him," Nick said firmly.  "They all do."

Warrick laughed.  "While I will concede that the majority of
Silver Lakes did want to get to know the carnal side of our
Sugar Bear, Lynn was interested in the removal of blood and
more than willing to listen to the scientist talk about his
entire experiment to get the information."

"She told me you sometimes had to wade through shit
chest-high to get to the nugget, but there were a lot of
nuggets coming from the Geeks," Gil recalled.  "She was
proud of them."

"A reason for civic pride versus a necessary evil, guys. 
That's what I wanted you to have," Warrick tried to explain. 
"My place was here, looking after Grams."

"Who has been looking after herself for close to fifty
years," Grams called from the kitchen.  "And when did you
become so organized?" she asked.  "Your spices are
alphabetized."

"Elaine is a bad influence," Warrick responded.  He tried to
sit up, but Nick held him in place.  He tried again, but Gil
was also not letting him up either.  "Guys?"

"Sorry, Warrick, you're our prisoner," Nick explained,
sounding like the sheriff of some dusty Texas town.  "We've
never had you this helpless before."

"My Grams is in the next room and I will scream for help
like a B-Movie Queen," Warrick warned.  "There are knives in
that room."

"He's still my baby, Boys, no matter how stupid he's been
acting," Grams informed them.  That made Warrick smile.

"Nick, do you want to take the Silver Lakes job?" Warrick
asked.

"If you and Gil are going with me, the answer is yes," Nick
replied.  "Do you want to take it?" he asked Warrick.

Warrick nodded, but he knew his Grams was listening and
nodding wasn't good enough.  "Yes, I do."

"Gil?" Nick asked, not bothering with the rest of the
sentence.

"Yes," Gil answered.

"Then we've got a call to make and an email to send," Nick
announced.

"Finally, an email I'm looking forward to sending," Gil
noted.  He bent low and gave Warrick a long, long kiss that
seemed to last about an hour.  Brown was absolutely
light-headed.

"No, you do it like this," Nick informed the older man
before he laid a long hot wet one on Warrick that made
Brown's brain short out.  "See?" Nick asked as he left
Warrick panting.  "Look at how peaked his nipples are."

Grams walked out of the kitchen and hit Grissom up for cab
fare.  She walked out as if it were already there.  Brown's
head was still swimming.  He tried to get up and pay for his
grandmother's transportation, but his legs weren't up to the
challenge and his captors weren't interested in letting him
go.

"Now that your protection has left, and for a surprisingly
small bribe I might add, we get to punish you for as long as
we want," Gil announced.  He twisted Warrick's nipples,
causing Brown to whimper like a puppy.  "That was just a
taste, Brown Sugar."

'Brown Sugar'?  Oh no he didn't.  Gil had just laid a tag on
him that if anyone other than Nick heard, Warrick would have
to kill them.  Even Catherine would have to snuff it. 
Lindsey would survive, but she would have to dye her hair,
change her name, move to Montreal, and learn to speak
French.

"I like that," Nick said enthusiastically, dooming Warrick. 
"Brown Sugar.  It fits," he said, having a lick.

"Big Sonny was singing that song about his Brown Sugar and
it made me think about Ricky."  Gil was doing that purring
voice thing that always made Warrick shiver.  "Warrick is
our Brown Sugar."   

"Calling me 'Ricky' was fine," Warrick encouraged.  "It was
cute, a bit embarrassing, and fine.  I can live with
'Ricky'."

"You can't take my nickname for you away," Gil stated
firmly.  "If you get to act like an idiot and threaten
everything we've built up, then I get to give you an
embarrassing nickname."  His stubborn look presented itself
on his face and settled in for the night.

Warrick could read the writing on the wall.  A task made
especially easy since the lettering was two-feet tall.  He'd
planned to throw everything they'd built back into his men's
faces.  He'd hurt their feelings.  He needed to crawl on his
belly and beg.  He would respond to 'Brown Sugar', even in
public.  "Whatever you say, Gil," he responded in his best
meek tone.  It fell a little flat, but both Nick and Gil
acknowledged the sincere effort.

Gil wiggled his cell phone out of his pocket.  It was a fun
exercise for Warrick.  He dialed a long distance number he'd
obviously memorized.  "Hello, Elaine, put down your male
toys, it's Grissom.  No, I'm not tired of either Nick or
Warrick and I will not be shipping them to you wearing only
a bow."  He paused and his eyes widened.  "Really?  Okay,
I'd love to rummage through your toy box.  But the reason I
called was to tell you that Nick, Warrick, and I would like
to accept the jobs, if they're still available."  He placed
his hand over the phone.  "She's thinking about it," he
whispered.

"She's dancing around her desk," Nick corrected.

"What?" Gil asked.  He smiled.  "Yes, we'll still need to
stay in the cottage until our house is ready.  Have they
sold the Dragonfly House yet?"  Grissom pumped his fist. 
"Yes!  Call Sam Cross and tell him its sold, to us.  Right. 
We'll call you back when we have a few more details nailed
down.  Thank you for this opportunity."  He smiled even
wider.  "You're very welcome."  Grissom closed his phone.

"What did she say at the end?" Warrick asked, his curiosity
stirred.

"She thanked us for believing in Silver Lakes's dream and
making it come true," Gil answered.  "I was touched."

          <><><>=============<><><>=============<><><>

The party was winding down; Sara had stayed away from
Grissom, Nick, and Warrick for most of the night.  She
wasn't worried about them making a scene.  After all, they
were guests in Henry Dayton's home and they would never do
anything to upset Gil's friend.  Now was the time to say
something to the men as it was very likely she'd never see
them again.

Sidle knew she was the only member of the team who did not
receive a job offer, even if no one had said anything about
it.  She even knew why.  It had nothing to do with her
skills.  Sara just didn't and wouldn't fit into their little
town.  She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself and
hating the fact she wasn't offered the job she didn't want.

"When do you guys head out?" Sara asked as she moved to
where the three men were standing around Greg and teasing
the younger man about Archie.

"Right after breakfast," Grissom answered.  "Nick won't let
us set out late."

Sara nodded and the four men waited.  All of her practiced
speeches fled from her brain and her mouth proceeded without
conscious thought to back it up.  "I'm in therapy."

"Is it helping?" Warrick asked without a hint of sarcasm.

"It's exhausting," Sara answered.  "I'm not sure if it's
helping, but it is cleansing.  I can't seem to leave that
woman's office without a good cry."

"Sometimes, that's what it takes," Greg said.  He looked
over at Archie, who was chatting with Hank, and smiled. 
"Excuse me."  He walked over and put his arm around Archie's
waist.  Who knew it would take an A/V guy to settle Greg
down? 

"I... I'm an idiot.  A total idiot.  I was so jealous,
spiteful, and... stupid."  Sara sighed and wished she had a
drink at almost exactly the same time she reminded herself
that drinking had already cost her too much.  "Stupid," she
repeated.  "I've got a library of excuses for my stupidity,
but not one of them is worth jack shit."

They were still waiting.  For once, Sara had their undivided
attention and she was wasting it.  "I'm sorry.  What I said
was a lie and we all know it.  I know you're going to be
huge successes in Silver Lakes."

"That's the plan," Nick responded.  Warrick was still
looking at her with hard eyes.  Sara had stepped over the
line with that man and no hasty apology, no matter how
genuine, was going to make him forget that.  Grissom was
equally silent.

Sara tried again.  "I was striking out.  I do that almost
automatically.  Luckily, it's a learned behavior and can be
unlearned."  Having reached the end of her apology abilities
and knowing the guys would rather hug something covered in
acid than her, she turned and left; not just the group but
the house.  She made it all the way home before she allowed
herself to cry.

          <><><>=============<><><>=============<><><>

"Guys, I know you were looking forward to a few days to
unpack and acclimate yourself, but I need you to hit the
ground running," Elaine announced as she passed out
identical folders to the three men.  "Twelve years ago, this
man was convicted in the murder of his wife and son.  He got
the death penalty.  Two days ago, another man confessed to
the killings, along with three other similar murders.  We
have just five days to review the evidence before the
prisoner is due to be executed."

Grissom flipped through the pages.  "Texas?" he asked.

"Not our usual haunts, but that's why we've been called in." 
Elaine took a deep breath and let it out slow.  "I know I
can count on your thoroughness.  Gil, I need you to pull a
specialty team together and --" she stopped.  "Can you do
pressurized flight yet?"

"No," he answered.  "I can't risk it for another month."

She pulled something up on her computer and then tapped on
her phone.  "KeShawn Wayne please."  Elaine paused, cradling
the receiver on her shoulder.  "KeShawn, are my trucks ready
yet?  Great.  Can you have them delivered to the Lab before
noon?  Thanks, Big Guy."  She hung up the phone.

"Three of our new trucks are ready for the road," Elaine
announced.  "Grissom, assemble your team, take them from any
shift that you need, and kit up for remote unit work.  You
need to be on your way by two o'clock.  Marjorie will have
you set up."  They were dismissed.
               
The three former LVPD, and now new SLCL, CSIs assembled in
Grissom's office, where they sat down and studied their
copies of the folder.

"This doesn't look like enough evidence to execute a man,"
Warrick stated as he accepted a bottled water from Grissom's
small white refrigerator that rested in a cabinet behind
Gil's desk.  The Skull and Crossbones oversized black model
was still there and Brown wouldn't accept anything but
evidence from that one.

"The wife and the child killed, plus his history of violence
and drunkenness, would have been enough for most Texas
juries," Nick assured him.

Marjorie tapped on the door twice and walked in.  Grissom
had never gotten his assistant in Vegas, but he had one
here.  Marjorie Wilcox had retired after 25 years with the
CIA as a secretary, only to take this job after "sitting on
her can and trying to knit" for two months.  She was a tall
woman, pale, with steel grey eyes, overly black hair, and a
quick smile when you pleased her.  She placed three shopping
bags on the desk in front of them.  Each had a name on it. 
"Gentlemen, your IDs hot off the press, your badges, gas
cards, cell phones, sunglasses, driving gloves, three new
jumpsuits, and your pagers.

Nick popped his glasses on and grinned.  "These are my
prescription."

"Mine too," Gil added.

"You two get a second plain pair since you don't need your
eyeglasses all of the time."  Marjorie opened her cell
phone, which had chirped the opening strains of 'Smoke on
the Water'.  "Wilcox," Marjorie answered.  "Those books
belong to Doctor Grissom and need to come up to his office,
not the library."

"They can be placed in the library, if you think people
would want to consult them," Grissom offered magnanimously. 
In Vegas, Grissom's entomology book collection was
considered one of his quirks.  Here it was an asset.

Marjorie beamed.  "Good news, Doctor Grissom is willing to
share his treasures.  Have Building Services put up a 'From
the Private Collection of' plaque over the shelves."  She
paused. "That I don't know."  She looked at the three men. 
"Do you need one parking space or three?  They're ready to
paint your names on them."

"Three," Gil answered for them.  "We need the flexibility."

"Three it is," she agreed before heading toward the door. 
"Bailey, that's three spaces and put Grissom near an awning. 
We can't have him getting wet, can we?"

"I like you wet," Nick teased before going back to studying
the folder.  Warrick noticed how all three of them had
grabbed their gear out of the bags and then immediately gone
back to the folders.  A man's life hung in the balance.  He
could either be innocent or he'd given this other man
details of the killing to stop his own execution.

Less than an hour after she'd left, Marjorie returned, but
this time with envelopes.  "Here's five days worth of per
diem.  Document everything you want to be reimbursed for,
save your receipts, use your gas card, and don't scratch
those trucks."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Gil assured her.

"I can get someone to go to the cottage and grab up some
clothes for you," Marjorie offered.  "I know you haven't had
time to fully unpack."

"No need," Warrick assured her.  "We all have a three-day
bag in the back of the truck."

Because of the nature of their new jobs, it was sometimes
necessary to go to another state for a day or two, which
meant that all of them had a bag that contained three days
worth of clothes and toiletries.

"Rick has enough clothes for five days in his three-day
bag," Nick teased.

Warrick would have protested if it hadn't been true.  He
hated wearing the same clothes more than one day and packed
accordingly.  Nick's bag had exactly three days worth of
clothes plus any toy he wanted to try.  Gil also packed only
three days of clothes, but stuffed in a book or two and
maybe a magazine he intended to read.  Warrick wouldn't
waste the space on reading material.  "Guilty," he admitted.

"You can see that my pets are fed," Gil suggested.

"I thought you were taking them with you," she insisted as
she patted Nick's shoulder.  "And the last time I checked,
they could feed themselves."  Nick began to snicker and Gil
lifted one eyebrow.  "Oh, the insects!"  Marjorie looked
around nervously.  "Just the live ones, right?  The art ones
scare me."

Warrick and Nick chuckled.  Gil scowled.  For a man who
lamented the circumstances of their acquisition, Grissom did
seem to love his tributes.  He'd driven them from Silver
Lakes to Las Vegas and back again.  Now they had places of
honor in his new office.

"Just the live ones," Gil assured his assistant.

She smiled in relief.  "Have you got a task force list yet?"

"Taylor, Margolis, McKenzie, Stokes, Brown, Thompson, and
Brass," Grissom rattled off.  "Alert Sanders to expect
samples to be sent via courier and that they need to be
given priority.  Dawson will need to run the ballistics
reports again.  Johnson will need to go with us and set up
the mobile-to-lab communications, but he can then head
back."

"I'll call them in," Marjorie stated before heading back to
her office.

Warrick peeked over the top of his folder.  "Brass?" he
asked.  "They'll have a case officer there."

"I know, but I want Jim to interrogate the confessor,"
Grissom explained.  "He's the best."

"That's what I've waited all my life to hear," Jim stated
from the doorway.  "Marjorie said I could come in." 

"Yes, you can," Gil agreed.  "Have you settled in yet?"

"Half my office stuff is still in boxes," Jim confessed. 
"My secretary looks young enough to be a boy scout, my phone
has more buttons on it than the Space Shuttle, and my
computer talks back to me."  He grimaced and pulled out his
pager.  He rolled his eyes, then pulled out his cell phone
and dialed.  "Danny, are you testing this thing again?  No,
I'm already in Grissom's office.  Okay."

Brass shook his head and took a seat beside Warrick.  "Danny
just told me to report to your office." 

Grissom's space had a conference table, something he could
have really used in Vegas, and it allowed for up to ten
people to meet in the man's office.

"We've got a death row inmate, five days from his execution,
and someone else has just confessed to his crime and three
others with similar modus operandi," Grissom explained.

Brass cringed.  "That's all we need -- for one innocent
person to be executed."  

Warrick passed the pages he'd already read to Brass.  They
continued to share his folder until Marjorie arrived with a
folder for Brass and the rest of the announced team.  She
also rolled in more bottled water, a bowl of fruit, and
trays of nuts.

There was no pastry being offered in the complex because
they were in training for the Defenders of the Realm Games,
where teams from the Fire Department, Police Department,
Crime Lab, and Emergency Services competed in various
sports.  
                         
Last year the Fire Department had not only wiped the floor
with the Crime Lab, they had "cleaned the corners with our
shattered remains", according to Generator.  They could not
bear the shame of a second thrashing.

The rest of the team arrived and took their seats.  Grissom
looked at them over the top of his glasses.  "We're doing an
emergency review of a death row case.  Another person has
confessed to the crimes along with three others.  We need to
review everything, and I mean everything, before submitting
our reports to the Parole Board.  We also need to be on the
road by two o'clock."  He glanced back at the clock.  They
had less than four hours.  "Let's get to work."

Everyone bent over their folders.  The questions flew fast
and furious.  Warrick took a deep breath and let it out
slowly as he closed his eyes.  He listened carefully to what
everyone was saying and one thing became readily apparent --
they had made the right decision.  They were where they
needed to be.


The End