TITLE: Fear of Falling

FANDOM: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

PAIRING: Nick/Greg

NOTES: writers_choice: falling

Nick POV, post-‘Stalker’

He had never been afraid of heights, of falling. That was something that happened to other people, and he’d tease his mother about elevators and aeroplanes whilst climbing trees and swinging from ropes on sturdy frames.

Flight fascinated him and he’d often dream of flying through the air, then diving, diving, the picture of fluidity, the epitome of grace. He’d heard a murmur that if you reached the bottom, fell to land, you would be dead, because no one has ever dreamt of touching down.

He would laugh at that too, brush it aside – what did it matter? Dreams were dreams and life was life, and he skydived as soon as he was eighteen and frequently climbed out of university windows, with more bravado than sobriety, never failing, never falling.

Then, he fell.

A figure in shadow-black swung him, pushing him back, and the window shattered – he was falling. There was a breathless infinitum of chaos and calm, and then he touched down. You weren’t supposed to touch down, they said, because that was death and death was bad, and why was the darkness so comfortable and why did Warrick seem so far away?

He stares up at the hole in his ceiling now and shivers, fervently praying that he never falls again, that falling is something he never feels again. But his dreams tell differently, and that’s why he stands there, staring, afraid to sleep.

So much fear, he thinks, for someone who wants to be so brave.

“Nick?”

He jumps at the voice, as the gentle hand touches his arm. He doesn’t turn away from the gaping hole, but settles back into Greg’s embrace, sighing.

“Did I wake you?”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

With aching slowness, his lover’s warmth seeps through his thin shirt and exhaustion descends over him like a cloud. He stumbles back to bed, guided by Greg’s murmured words and soft nudges.

Drifting on the verge of sleep, surrounded by sleepy, pliable Greg, realisation hits him. He fell and he’s alive. He’s alive.

“Greg? GREG! I’m alive!”

Greg chuckles softly, and pulls him closer.

“Yes, Nick, you are alive,” the laughter fades, and he whispers, “And I won’t let you fall again.”

And suddenly, he’s no longer afraid.