Additional note: We are fully aware of the fact that the kitsune, the way we portrayed it, is not the way it is described in Japanese mythology. So we apologize to every Japanese anthropologist for the toe-nail-curling effect this might have, but we loved the idea that much we just couldn’t resist.
 
 
 

Salt Lake City, Utah. 4327 feet above sea level. 182.000 residents. Some of them more than met the eye.
Salt Lake City. Home of Ezra Standish, owner of several profitable businesses within city limits, and a lot more all over the globe. A man with connections that spanned not only miles but also time. A man who was actually undead; a vampire. He was power all by himself, a community leader with the support of his community, their back-up, and the experience of over a century.
But things were changing.
They had started to change when Chris Larabee had come back into his life, when the crime scene investigation unit led by this man had won his friendship, his loyalty and his trust. It had changed when those men had changed, had become more, had survived ordeals others would have perished from. When they had grown stronger, when they had formed what was today known as the Nexus. The Nexus was still in its early stages, a careful construct, a gathering of knowledge, of myths and legends, of facts and fiction.
Vin Tanner was the driving force behind this project and by the rate it was growing, all knew it was only a matter of time until it would envelop more than just their free time. But it was also a danger, as had been proven. Ezra was worried about his ability to protect these men. He had the money, the business power and connections, but he wasn't omnipotent, nor was he omnipresent. There was only so much he could do – and their current allies weren't powerful enough to aide him in his task to keep the Nexus safe.
Things were changing, sliding and slipping out of control, and Standish could only pray that he found a way to prevent harm from coming to them once again in form of a hunter or crazed paranormal out for blood. As the shamans had said, the Nexus was now the focal point of many, watching them, their moves, their decisions. Never before had vampires, werewolves and magic users cooperated like this, never had they worked together like Chris's team did, and never had they drawn such unlikely alliances.
Ezra just hoped for the best.

* * *

Ezra looked up from the book he was reading when the doorbell rang. He glanced over to the other couch where his lover was brooding over some reports, looking as confused as he.
“Expecting someone?” Chris Larabee asked.
After the latest events the men had become more than careful.
“No.” Ezra shook his head. “You?”
“Not at this hour.”
“It was for Ezra.”
Andrew Larabee walked into the living room, casually tossing a large envelope into the general direction of the older vampire.
“Drew!”
“What?” the young man shrugged at his father’s sharp tone. “It IS for Ezra.”
“You answered the door.”
“So? Somebody had to.”
“Not you.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“Yes, I am, and you should be, too. One time’s far too close for my liking.”
It earned the older Larabee a sharp glare – family heritage, Ezra mused – before the younger face softened. Ezra knew what Chris was referring to – he had once rescued his son from a mad serial killer in the proverbial last second, just because the man had wanted to hurt Chris. Not to mention Algernon Hunter… Too many had tried to hurt or kill one of the team already.
“I know.” Drew sighed.
“And having a werewolf hunter in our home isn’t exactly reassuring, you know.”
“Yes, dad. I understand that.”
Chris's features softened a bit and he rose, walking over to his son, who was by now as tall as his father. He had come to stay with them because of his university attendance in Salt Lake, and Chris had been more than happy to have him here.
“Don’t get me wrong, I was glad you were with your mom instead.”
“I understand that.”
“Good.”
Larabee was about to turn back to his work, when Drew cleared his throat.
“Uhm, dad… talking about it…”
“Yes?”
Andrew sat down and Chris did the same. Something gave Ezra the impression his lover wouldn’t like what was heading his way.
“Dad, I’m leaving.”
Chris's eyes widened in shock. “You’re what?”
“I’m going to another U for two semesters. It’s a unique chance, see, because they have a nice big anthro department and all, and after I’ve read some of one of their teacher’s work, I’d really like to meet the guy. I think I can learn so much from that guy… “ Drew gestured animatedly, face and eyes bright with enthusiasm.
Chris rallied visibly. “Where?”
“Cascade.”
“Washington?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Does your mother know?”
At this point Andrew seemed to look a little sheepish. So Jo-Ann did already know about her son’s plans.
“Well, yeah. She helped me fill out the forms.”
Ezra could clearly see his lover wasn't exactly comfortable with that, but did his best not to show it.
“Have a room already?”
Andrew nodded. “It’s all settled. I’ll go with a colleague of mine. We’ll share.”
“When?”
“Beginning of the next semester.”
“That’s in two weeks! And you did plan on telling me when?” Larabee demanded.
“Errr – now?”
 “Andrew, you’re old enough to look after yourself and make your own decisions. You don’t need my permission.”
“Nope.”
“Andrew?”
“Hm?”
“Be careful.”
Hazel eyes met hazel eyes when father and son looked at each other. So much alike, Ezra thought.
“Will be.”
“Good.”
Drew rose and grinned at Ezra, then hurried out of the room.
Chris shot a short glance over to his lover. “You’ll notify the community of Cascade?”
“Of course.”
And he would. He didn’t plan on risking anything as precious as his lover’s family. The Cascade community would watch over Andrew Larabee as if he was one of their own.
“Ezra? What’s that letter?”
“Oh.”
Ezra had almost forgotten. Picking up the large envelope he could feel its exquisite quality, which was continued with the card inside, he noticed after slicing it open.
Ten seconds later his jaw hit the floor.
“Ezra?”
Silently Ezra handed over the card, watching as Chris’s face fell as well.
“Ezra…”
“Chris.”
“This letter… “
“Yes.”
“It’s an invitation from…”
“I noticed.”
“Do you know the guy?”
“Who doesn’t. It’s Hugh Farnham we’re talking about here, Chris!”
The man made the news on a regular basis, though he was never seen personally anywhere. He had companies all over the globe and his name almost belonged into a regular dictionary by now.
“Yeah, I see that. But do you know the man? Vampire or something?”
“No, Chris, Hugh Farnham is a business tycoon, not a vampire. And no, I don’t know him in person.”
“Obviously he knows you.”
“As a name, Chris. Business. I believe that’s what this is all about. Invitation to a charity event is not that uncommon." Ezra shrugged. "I sometimes do them. Sometimes I send someone."
"I guess you better attend that one. Sounds important for him to personally invite you."
The older vampire chuckled. "I doubt I'd even get to see him, love. No one actually knows where he lives, let alone what he looks like. The last picture was taken about ten years ago, and that was probably a fake."
"But you're going?"
"It would be a nice change from the routine, yes." Green eyes twinkled. "Do you have a suit?”
“What does that have to with anything?”
“It says 'And company', Chris. Guess that would be you.”
And Ezra grinned broadly as Chris’s face fell again, displaying pure horror.

* * *

The annual charity dance of the Farnham Corporation was one of the many events of the year in society circles. Whoever had rank and name came to shake hands, donate money, meet others, chat and generally overindulge in champagne and expensive food from an exquisite buffet. The city where it was held changed every year. This year it was Salt Lake City and it was why Ezra had decided to come; he usually didn't fly anywhere for the caviar and the drinks. He could donate money from afar just fine.
“Tell me why we are here exactly, Ezra?” Chris whispered, tone a little irritated.
“Because we’ve been invited. Because I’ve asked real nicely,“ Ezra grinned at the slight twitch in his lover’s body language at the mentioning of the night before, “and because you’re a curious son of a bitch.”
The glare that remark earned him just broadened his grin. Charity events weren’t his cup of tea as well, but the invitation had been from Hugh Farnham himself.
Hugh Farnham III., business tycoon extraordinaire, well known to the world for his ingenuity but also for his eccentricity. The man never showed up in public, was only rarely seen on TV or any pictures, and the yellow press hated him. Not married and, well, stinking rich, he was branded as America’s number one marriage candidate. But there was nothing. No black spot on his white vest, no scandals, no children from affairs.
Ezra knew for sure; he had checked the man. Farnham had built a business empire within the last twenty years almost out of nothing, had companies in almost every part of the country and overseas, concentrating on medicine, technology, and research – almost everything but weaponry, which Ezra found highly astounding.
Farnham seemed to be a man with principles, and that was highly rare in this circles. And there was even more: no scandals, no cheesy business, no nothing. Except for the fact that Farnham seemed to be extremely publicity shy; and that, Ezra mused, could have been for several reasons. One thing Ezra was absolutely sure of: Hugh Farnham III. was definitely more than met the eye.
Ezra took another sip from the champagne that had been served to them earlier, and grimaced a little. In contrast to his lover he didn’t like human food at all, though he could suffer it on occasions like this, when it was required to uphold an image. He liked the occasional stiff drink, but he abhorred champagne, and solid food like served at the buffet was simply disgusting. Maybe it was because he had been a vampire for so long; maybe it was just him. Chris had trouble at all, having his share of exquisite food and delicate desserts.
Looking over at the man at his side, Ezra couldn’t help another smile.
God, but Chris looked gorgeous in his black dinner jacket, complete with black silk shirt and tie; and he didn’t even realize it. More than one head had turned in his direction when they had arrived, but Chris had been totally oblivious – or he had chosen to simply ignore it. His lover was far too alert at the moment not to notice such things, though he could fully understand it. They had almost lost two of their own lately. It wasn't something a man as protective as Chris Larabee simply put away and went on afterwards. And then this mysterious invitation had arrived, only adding to his current paranoia.
The soft clearing of a throat behind them pulled Ezra out of his thoughts. The vampire had been aware of the warm bodies all around them, had heard snatches of conversation, but he had long since learned to filter them out. Vampire hearing was sensitive, but a vampire learned early on how to tune out what wasn't needed.
“Mr. Farnham will see you now, gentlemen. If you will follow me, please,” the butler said softly.
Hazel eyes met green ones, each man raised one eyebrow. See them?
“Of course.” Ezra nodded.
The butler turned and lead the way.
 

Chris whistled through his teeth when the butler closed the doors silently behind them. The sight that had greeted them was almost breathtaking.
“That’s what I call a library.”
“You can say that twice.”
There were bookshelves covering the walls from top to bottom, displaying lots of books. Some tomes were very old and precious, the vampire noticed while skipping carefully through the folios and books. Each and every one of them was read and well taken care of, but somehow Ezra got the impression it was their content and not their monetary value their owner was interested in. A fire was crackling in the open fireplace, creating a warm and welcome atmosphere, as were the heavy leather chairs in front of it.
“Wonder which movie he got it from,” Chris muttered under his breath, and Ezra couldn’t help another chuckle.
His lover refused to be impressed, but he was. Their home might not be as stylish as was this house, but it could compete nevertheless.
“Want a library on your own, love?” he teased.
“Naw,” Chris smirked back, “that would be your department. I prefer a studio.”
“What would you…”
Whatever Ezra was about to say it was interrupted by the opening of a pair of doors at the other side of the large room, and by the man entering.
He was tall, almost as tall as Chris, and very slender, almost thin, though the well tailored suit hid that well. The light brown hair was long, loosely playing around the man’s shoulders, hazel eyes with a touch of green were regarding them warily.
They were meeting Hugh Farnham.
“Gentlemen, I apologize for letting you wait,” Farnham greeted them.
There was a slight accent in his voice. Of course, Ezra nodded inwardly, Farnham was of Australian heritage. Father British, mother Australian, he had been raised in America where his father had founded a small company. The son had turned out to be a business wunderkind of sorts, helping his father even in his younger years. Interested in everything that referred to business
Their life had changed drastically when Farnham’s parents were killed in a plane crash twenty years ago and the young man had found himself owner of a company. He had taken care of it, invested carefully and wisely, sometimes adventurously, and surprised the entire business world in becoming a rising star – and not failing even once.
Quite a talent, Ezra had thought when reading through the files. Interesting. Of course he had made business with Farnham – the Wall Street way. He had investigated into some of the other man’s companies, not exactly small ones, but that surely couldn’t be the reason for them to be here, could it?
Ezra might be rich and had his share of business shares and power, but Farnham topped him several notches. The vampire had never felt inspired to gain more business wealth; what he had was enough. He would never have approached Farnham on his own. What did the tycoon want from him? There was nothing he could offer.
Farnham gestured toward the large chairs and they sat down, watching each other. Something about their host made Ezra’s neck hair stand on end, but not in a warning. There was something about him… Ezra looked closer, and suppressed a sharp intake of breath. Farnham didn't just looked slender – he was skinny. Thin, pale skin was stretching over his hands and cheekbones, and there were slight shadows under his weary looking eyes, and though he moved gracefully he had to put some effort into it. The overall impression was almost ethereal. Ezra didn’t dare to put his vampire senses to use, but he was almost sure about what he would detect – Hugh Farnham wasn’t a healthy man. He didn’t want to go that far to assume he was dying but…
“You surely wonder why I invited you here, gentlemen."
Ezra smiled pleasantly. "It came as a surprise, yes."
"You're a known figure here, Mr. Standish," Farnham told him.
Ezra shrugged. "I make a living."
"Quite a good one."
Small talk. Ezra hated it in situations like these. He had no idea where Farnham was coming from and it slowly but surely put him on edge.
"I'm glad you could come, though. I was hoping to make this meeting without trying to go through the straining process of having my people talk to your people." Another fine smile.
Ezra raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, please,” Farnham gestured toward their empty glasses, “you have finished your drinks. Let me provide you with something that might be more to your liking.”
Ezra watched the man rise slowly, almost carefully, as if moving would be either painful or of greater efforts, and walk over to a liquor cabinet, where he took out two glasses and a carafe. Farnham filled the glasses and offered them to his guests. Ezra smiled a thank you when he a certain odor reached his nostrils.
Familiar scent.
Shooting a quick glance at Chris he saw his lover’s eyes widen slightly in surprise at their offered drink. This wasn’t red wine, far from it. And it definitely was more to their liking, given their true nature… interesting. Ezra took a sip of the blood - exactly the right temperature, now where would he know that from? – and watched his host watching him.
Despite the apparent illness, Farnham's eyes were sharp and filled with acute awareness. There was nothing dull, lifeless or diluted in them.
Nodding his approval Ezra smiled.
“I have to admit you see me at a loss here. To what do we earn that honor?” he asked politely.
“Mr. Standish, the honor is all mine." Farnham took his seat again. "Well, the point is, I want to offer you a transaction.”
Ezra pricked his ears at the undertone. Now this was getting interesting.
“Transaction? I beg your pardon, but we barely know each other. I might have one or two successful companies running, but they are certainly no comparison to your empire. What could it be we have you’d be interested in?”
Farnham leaned back, and there was a smile on his lips, but it wasn’t reaching his weary eyes.
“Knowledge.”

* * *

“He what?” Vin blurted, almost spilling his coffee.
“He uttered his interest in the Nexus, and he offered to support it with everything he has,” Ezra repeated.
“Hugh Farnham? III.? We’re talking about America's most desired here, and he wants to support us… the Nexus, I mean?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Ezra, as para… er, careful as you are, you didn’t ask?”
“Of course I did, Vin. He just asked us to think it over.”
“There’s something more behind that. And by the way, how does he know about something that doesn't even really exist – except for a few rough ideas?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“No. Sometimes you get more information when you don’t ask, Vin. And of course there’s more behind that. A man like Farnham doesn’t make such offers lightly, so I guess he gets something of it.”
“He one of us?”
“I can’t tell, Vin. He said he’d contact us tomorrow, so we have enough time to talk it over with everybody. It’s a good offer. I’ve done research on Farnham and his companies, and we could really use some of it. Not to mention the money. Farnham is of a dying breed, so to speak, because he’s an honest businessman.”
“That’s an oxymoron.”
“Thank you so much for that vote of confident.”
“You’re no businessman, Ezra. You’re our friend.”
“Who invests your money and makes profit with said investments, Mr. Tanner.”
Vin shot him a glare.
“All right, Mr. Standish. Now, about Farnham… “

* * *

The moment the door was opened and they stepped into the entrance hall of Farnham’s Salt Lake home, Vin felt the hair on his neck stand up. He heard Buck clear his throat and, glancing at his lover, he saw the furrowed brows. Something was living here, and it wasn’t human. It felt strange… almost familiar, but not completely. He knew it somehow, but on the other side it was a total stranger. Like meeting a cousin one had never seen, but instinctively knowing it was family.
Vin frowned.
“Err… guys…“ JD’s hesitant voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
“What is it, JD?” Chris asked, and his body language spoke of a tension only visible for those who knew him.
“I don’t know. I feel something, but I can’t identify it.”
“I think I can,” Buck muttered. “There’s something here, and it’s screaming ‘Were’ at me.”
Vin nodded recognizing the feeling now, too.
The same family, but not really a wolf. A Were, all right. Something neither animal nor human, something paranormal, but this one had another touch to it that had Vin on his toes.
“No, not really," JD answered. "I know what a were feels like, Buck. I've been around you two long enough. There’s magic here.”
Chris's brows dipped slightly. “What kind?”
“I can’t describe it, Chris. All I know is that this is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s… strange. Strong, but somehow… dormant? Sorry,” the young warlock shrugged at the quizzical looks, “I can’t describe it any better. I know it doesn’t make sense. Maybe if Nick was here… He’s better trained… “
“You’re doing fine, JD.” Ezra interrupted. “And we already assume there’s something else behind Mr. Farnham’s generous offer.”
“Gentlemen,” they were interrupted by the butler standing in the door, “Mr. Farnham will see you now.”
“Dejá vu, Ezra?” Chris muttered as the man led them to the same library they had met Farnham once before.

*

“Gentlemen, I’m glad you could make it.”
Hugh Farnham greeted them, sitting in one of those large leather chairs. He gestured toward the other chairs as an invitation. It gave Ezra a shock to look at their host. Though he had seen Farnham two days ago and noticed the man didn’t seem to be healthy, now he looked like death warmed over, twice. There was a dullness in those hazel eyes he hadn’t noticed last time, and the man wasn’t making any attempt to move more than absolutely necessary. He looked – beat, drained.
“Mr. Farnham,” Ezra replied, hiding his feelings behind a smile while taking a seat.
A glass appeared in front of him, and then the butler disappeared.
"Since you're here," Farnham said, voice rather shaky, "I take it you came to a decision."
Ezra smiled slightly. “We've talked about your generous offer, but there are some things we need to know before we can decide. I’m sure you’ll understand that.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to step into a transaction blindly, either.”
Ezra raised one eyebrow. So Farnham had run inquiries and done research on his own. He briefly wondered what the tycoon had found out – considering his beverage, a lot.
“What do you get out of this, Mr. Farnham?” Vin asked quietly. “That’s what’s most interesting to me. Second, where did you hear about the Nexus? And third, what are you?”
“You’re not beating around the bush now, are you, Mr. Tanner?” Farnham smiled dimly.
“No. Doesn’t get you anywhere.”
“Indeed. So, to answer your questions as to what I get out of this. Knowledge and help. As for the Nexus… I received a note. And what am I? I don’t know. But whatever I am, I am dying because of it.”
"You don't know?" Vin looked confused.
"No, Mr. Tanner, I don't. I know I've always been different, but until the recent years, this difference has never made me sick." Farnham briefly closed his eyes, looking tired. "I believe this sickness has spread, is still spreading and with increased speed, and I'll die if I can't find a solution to it. A solution other than death, that is."
The smile was barely even real.
"So you think we can help?" Buck wanted to know.
"You or someone you know. My own forays into the world of the paranormal were without success. I know little of what's out there, but I know enough. I have friends who have contacts and they gave me your names and they mentioned the Nexus."
Ezra frowned, looking clearly uncomfortable.
"My business deal still stands, Mr. Standish. I offer you the resources and power of the Farnham Corporation in exchange for anything you can give me. Any help, any knowledge, any ideas."
The man was desperate – and he was dying. There was no doubt about it.
"What if we can't help you?" JD asked, open and straight to the point.
A soft chuckle. "Then you still get the better of the deal. I know the Nexus will need whatever it can get concerning business connections, money and whatnot. Farnham Corporation will be yours, Mr. Standish. Yours and the Nexus's."

* * *

"We've got to help him!" JD insisted as they drove home.
"How?" Ezra asked reasonably.
The younger man shot him an incredulous look. "You asking that is plain wrong, Ezra! You have so many connections, know so many people… and there's the shamans, too!"
The vampire was silent for a moment, then gave a dim smile. "Yes, there's that."
"Is it because Farnham knows about us?" Vin wanted to know, voice soft and understanding.
Green eyes met blue ones and the vampire's expression said it all.
"Ez, we talked about it," Buck insisted. "We all knew it was already leaking. Now someone asks for our help and considering what we pulled off in the past, I think we should at least give it a try. If you won't call Caine, I will!"
Chris had to smile and he took Ezra's hand, squeezing it. "We're already in too deep, love. And I know you can't just ignore his pleas for help."
Ezra sighed. "Yes."
"So we call Caine?"
"Yes, Buck, we call Caine."
"Good."
Vin dug into his pockets and pulled out the cell phone. At Buck's look, he asked, "What?"
"Uh, you gonna use a phone?"
"Of course? You think Caine uses carrier pigeons?"
"Yeah, well, something like it…"
Vin rolled his eyes. "Buck, this is the twenty-first century! He's got email, cell phone, internet… the whole enchilada!"
He pushed a button.
"And you have him on speed dial," Ezra remarked.
The geologist chuckled as he listened to the ring tone, then his face grew serious. "Caine? It's Vin Tanner… Yes, we're fine, but there's something we need your expertise with… How quickly can you come to Salt Lake?"

* * *

Caine had taken the first flight from San Francisco to Salt Lake and hadn't stopped at a hotel before coming to Hugh Farnham's mansion. Carrying a small carry-all, dressed in casual pants, a shirt and a jacket, he looked so unlike a shaman, it was scary. Somehow thinking of an Asian named Caine with mystical powers always brought a TV series to Buck's mind. But Caine had little in common with his television name-sake.
Asking for a private talk with Hugh Farnham, Vin and Buck had remained outside, not much later joined by Chris and Ezra. Chris had called Travis, who wasn't really shocked by paranormal news and developments any more. He had taken the absence of most of his team in a stride. Josiah, JD and Nathan were keeping up a good front and Buck had decided to go in later to continue with one of his own cases.
Vin sat with his back against Buck's knees, who occupied a large armchair. Tanner had grabbed a few pillows and decided to camp out on the ground, Buck playing with his hair or simply stroking his shoulders in a calming manner. Both men were quiet.
Chris and Ezra sat on the two-seater couch, Chris reading, Ezra with his eyes closed and apparently resting. Vin knew the vampire was far from asleep. Maybe he was even eavesdropping. That drew a small smile.
The smile was wiped away when he saw something flicker across the room. It was a shadow, barely defined, and almost flimsy in consistence. Vin followed its erratic movements and finally the thing stopped close to the door. It solidified and Vin frowned. As if on cue, his spirit animal appeared on the arm of the chair closest to him, the large eyes of the gecko regarding him calmly.
So he was seeing a spirit guide?
Vin squinted, willing the animal to become clearer. It did, but it didn't become as real as his gecko. At least he recognized the form.
A fox.
A pale-furred, reddish brown fox. It looked thin and too small, the eyes sunken and the tail hanging down limply. It appeared ungroomed, too. Still too translucent for Vin's liking, it looked at him with soulful eyes, mourning and so very lost. The fox curled up in front of the door, visibly trembling, snout buried in the frazzled tail.
A fox, he thought. Farnham's spirit guide. If it was any indication as to the man's health, Farnham was very, very sick.

* * *

It took the San Francisco shaman two hours until he left the room again, looking serious and slightly disturbed. Buck had had to leave, but Vin and Chris were still there, officially on a special assignment by Travis. In a way, it was a special assignment.
"I wonder how you do it," Caine said, shaking his head as he joined the men.
"Do what?"
"Find even the rarest of paranormals with such ease, my friend. You seem to magically attract them. As my young colleague Brian once put it, I think you have a 'magical magnet up your asses'."
Chris just shrugged. "You know what we have here?" Larabee wanted to know.
"I believe so, yes."
The shaman walked over to the large floor-to-ceiling window and looked out into the perfectly groomed garden of Farnham's Salt Lake mansion.
"He's a kitsune."
The men just stared at him, JD blinking in confusion.
"That's… a fox, right?" the young warlock clarified.
"Yes, JD. A fox. A Were like the wolves, but not in its purest form. Vin and Buck are pure Weres. There's no mistaking their aura. A kitsune is harder to define. We know little about them because, like the Mimic, they are extremely rare. There are myths and legends, tales and speculation, but so far we have never encountered a living kitsune in the past centuries."
"He felt like kin," Vin confessed. "But in a strange way."
"That's because you couldn't recognize him due to the interference from his magic."
"He's a magical creature?" JD blurted.
"Exactly."
"So, what do you know?" Chris asked matter-of-factly.
Caine shrugged and smiled slightly. "The kitsune is a half Were, half magical creature. It needs lots of energy and usually feeds off emotions or the magical energy of the element it belongs to. Mr. Farnham belongs to the Forest element. From the looks and feel of it, the kitsune is starving, though."
"Like Farnham," Ezra commented.
"Yes. He's a mirror of what the kitsune is going through. I don't believe it's intentional, but he's not only killing the paranormal that he is, he's killing himself."
"If he doesn't know what he is, how come he can kill the kitsune?" Buck asked reasonably.
"I talked extensively with Mr. Farnham," Caine explained. "I think the kitsune became active around the time he reached the age of twenty. He remembers how he made love to a woman on the day of his party. She almost died due to the kitsune feeding. He was so horrified by that incident, he never let another person come close to him, literally. A kitsune would need a powerful witch or Sidhe descendant as partner for now, from which he could feed of until he has regained unity and balance with his paranormal side. By neglecting his kitsune’s needs Farnham became sick over the years. Feeding the physical body barely keeps man and kitsune alive."
"So how do we help him?" Vin asked.
"As I said, kitsune feed off energy. Not the kind we give off voluntarily, but the one produced by either Sidhe descendants or a witch. He needs emotional spikes, positive spikes, and a lot of them to even think about recovering. Just putting him into a room full of witches doesn't cut it here."
"Then how?" Ezra demanded.
"A large donation of energy, preferably channeled by one or two shamans, from a Sidhe. A strong one. One of powerful heritage."
They frowned, looking at each other.
"Who?" Chris mused.
"Well, currently there is only one very strong Sidhe we know of. Nick Stokes," Caine answered calmly.
"What?!" Buck blurted.
Ezra frowned, mirroring Chris's expression. "Why him?"
"Aside from a powerful warlock, a Sidhe is the only choice for now," the shaman explained calmly. "The kitsune is starving, dying. He needs nourishment and anyone else but those two would probably perish."
"I'm a warlock!" JD said forcefully. "I'd volunteer."
"Laudable, my friend, but you are not trained enough. The kitsune would drain you, kill you."
"Nick has no training either," Vin threw in. "He has no powers at all."
"He's a Mimic, a very powerful and unique Sidhe. He will adapt to the need of the kitsune," Caine explained calmly. "His powers enable him to be what the kitsune needs without endangering himself."
"Are you sure?" Ezra's voice was calm, collected, but it held a dangerous tone to it.
"Left alone, no. We will guide them." The shaman smiled calmly.
The vampire wasn't convinced, but he didn't comment.
"So… we call Nick and ask for his help?" JD wanted to know, breaking the silence that had fallen.
"It has to be voluntary," Caine remarked. "We ask and if he declines, we look for another solution."
"Like Nicholas Reed," Chris added.
"Yes, like him."
Larabee pulled out his cell phone, checked the time, and hit a speed dial button.
"Larabee," he answered the call. "Bad time? Okay… Grissom, we need help here… Nick's help…"
And then he started to explain.

* * *

They had taken a plane.  It was faster than by car and given the circumstances, speed was of the essence. Gil Grissom had no idea what had happened behind the scenes to make their departure actually possible. The request for his presence, his knowledge and input, at a delicate crime scene in Salt Lake, was a fake. The whole call by Orrin Travis, Chris Larabee's request, all had been a set-up and Grissom had known. He hated the charade, but Nick was needed and he wouldn't let him go to Salt Lake City all on his own. Actually, Chris had told him to come along if at all possible.
Grissom was just glad that the current cases weren't as sensitive as some. Handing them over to Catherine had been easy. Nick had been planning to take two days off anyway, so that had been fairly uncomplicated as well.
They were expected by a man Grissom knew. It was Martin, Ezra's regular driver. The man gave them a brief smile, hauled their suitcases into the trunk of the limousine, and drove them to their hotel. Grissom had specifically requested to stay somewhere other than Ezra's house. It helped with the charade.
After checking in and a quick shower, the two men were driven over to the old mansion that Chris and Ezra shared together with Vin and Buck. Nick's expression was calm, but there was a hard edge to his lips, a tightness around his eyes, that told Grissom that his lover was going over what they had been told. For the first time since both had discovered the world of the paranormal they were involved in something so deeply. No one had ever requested their help in this way.
The moment the limo stopped, the door opened and Vin greeted them.
"Hey, great you're here. Come in."
Grissom nodded and Nick gave the other man a smile, then they proceeded into the ground floor apartment. It was Ezra's, as Gil immediately recognized. He had been here several times before.
It was Larabee who shook their hands. Of Ezra there was no sign.
"Ezra is still with Farnham," Chris explained. "The man's deteriorating fast now. Something must have happened, but no one knows what. Caine's there, too."
Grissom sat down on the couch and shot his colleague an expectant look. Nick just sank down next to him.
"First of all, I'm glad you could come. We really need your help. Yours especially, Nick," Chris started.
"Yeah, I gathered as much. Sounds to me like the paranormal version of a blood donation." Nick smiled weakly.
"According to Caine it is something like it." Chris ran a hand through his hair and looked at Vin, who had come back from a quick run into the kitchen and now handed out water bottles and sodas. "As I told you, Hugh Farnham is a paranormal who didn't know what he was. He's a kitsune, a fox spirit, and it looks like the breakthrough of his powers resulted in the near death of the woman he was with at the time. He buried that part deep inside, refused to let anyone close, and effectively starved part of him almost to death."
"And you think I can revive him?" Nick wanted to know.
"Caine think so, yes. The kitsune needs nourishment or Farnham will die. Taking energy from anyone but a powerful Sidhe would kill the donor or donors. You're the only one who can help because you're a Mimic, Nick."
"You think I can adapt? Or I can't die because I'm currently a Phoenix?"
"Because you can adapt."
Nick gazed at the soda in his hands, thoughtful. "You sure this'll work?"
"Caine is. He said he'll guide you through it with a ritual. He's a shaman and knows a lot more about energy flows and the like than anyone of us." The vampire smiled wryly.
Grissom's expression was far from happy, but he hadn't outright declined to come. He had actually accepted to accompany Nick.
"How safe is this?" he asked what he had demanded of Chris on the phone already.
"As safe as we can make it. Farnham is dying and the risk for him is as high as for Nick."
"I'll do it. I already told you so on the phone. I wouldn't have come here otherwise," the younger man said calmly.
Chris nodded, thankful. "We'll wait for Caine's call. He said he wanted to bring in another colleague for protection and they have to stabilize Farnham. Then we go."
Grissom took Nick's hands and squeezed it briefly, then leaned back into the couch.

*

Vin had stayed back throughout the conversation, leaning against the wall, watching their two colleagues. What drew his attention more than the conversation was the black bird sitting on the arm of the couch next to Nick.
Raven, he thought.
Another spirit guide. Unlike Farnham's fox, Nick's raven was a healthy and strong, its feather's gleaming, the eyes alert. It met Vin's gaze and the spirit walker smiled slightly as the creature recognized him as one who could see him.
Searching for a similar presence of a spirit animal around Grissom was greeted with no success. Either he had none or Vin just couldn't see it. According to Caine that wasn't possible. Spirit walkers could see all of them.
Suddenly something flickered around the edges of his perception. It was large, reddish, almost orange in places. Then it disappeared again. For a just a second Vin had thought he could see a bird-like creature, but it was too fast to pinpoint its exact definition.
Strange.
As so many things that concerned them, he mused, smiling.
Maybe Caine could give him some help. Spirit walking wasn't really his strength yet. He could see the animals or the shamans when they projected themselves, but that was about it. He knew he still had a lot to learn.

* * *

Nick looked at the pale, long-haired man sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor. Mattresses had been pulled onto the carpet, covered in blankets. Farnham was dressed in loose clothes that had probably fit him once. Now, looking like a victim of starvation, they seemed several sizes too big. He wasn't actually skin and bones, but he didn't look healthy either. Brown-green eyes met Nick's dark brown ones, curious and wary, hopeful and desperate.
"Mr. Stokes, I presume," Farnham said, managing a smile. He held out a hand. "Hugh Farnham. Pleased to meet you. I'm sorry I can't get up, but it was bad enough to get here already."
Nick took the hand, shaking it. He smiled. "No problem."
There was still power behind that handshake, but it was born from last energy reserves.
Caine nodded at Nick to take his place while he and Brian remained standing. Brian Sayed Menami had driven in from Las Vegas in a hurry when Caine has asked for his help since there was no shaman in Salt Lake. He knew Nick and Grissom, which had a calming effect on Stokes, and he knew what was expected of him. Despite his young age compared to Caine and his colorful looks, he was as serious a shaman and as powerful as the next. He might be mistaken for a street artist, but Brian Sayed Menami meant serious business.
Nick just sat down and looked at the other man. Farnham was a handsome man, he decided. If he survived this, if he regained his strength, he would probably turn some heads. Nick didn't exclude himself, though it would stop there. Looking was okay. Checking out the competition.
"Okay, now, what?” Nick asked, more than just a little nervous.
"You need to have physical contact," Brian explained and demonstrated the correct way by clasping his right wrist with his left hand.
Nick stretched out his arms and allowed the other man to close his hands around his wrists, mirroring the action. Farnham’s grip was firm without being too tight, and his fingers felt soft around Nick's inner wrist.
“That will do it. Leave the rest to us,” the shaman stated calmly.
"You don't have to do anything, Nick," Caine could be heard. "We'll initiate the transfer, the kitsune will recognize you, and the Mimic will do the rest."
He licked his dry lips and nodded once.
"Okay, let's begin."
Nick inhaled deeply and looked up to find his gaze locked with the other man’s hazel eyes. Farnham smiled faintly at him, and Nick relaxed into the grip when he noticed a small almost invisible shudder running through the hands holding his, understanding the other man was as nervous and insecure as he himself. As odd as it was, it calmed him.
“It has begun.”
Nick closed his eyes again, concentrating on the feeling of smooth skin at his, concentrating on his breath, willing it to even out. Imagining a dam that started opening he thought he could almost feel the energy starting to flow through his body, like a little rivulet at first, but then it became more, bigger, turning into a stream, and then a river. The cool water seemed to heat up until it was no longer a river of water but fire, molten lava, and Nick let his head fall back, moaning with the incredible heat that washed through his veins, wiping his conscious mind out with the sheer force of a volcano’s eruption.

* * *

It was hungry.
Starving.
Desperate.
It wanted to live, but living meant for others to die. Its conscience had stopped it from taking more than the bare essentials; sometimes not even that. It had felt hungry ever since waking, ever since the dreadful, horrifying moment of the living energy nearly dying because of its hunger.
And now it felt the energy so close by. Wonderful, powerful, strong. It was so different from all the other sources of nourishment, the places it had never touched, just looked at. It was beautiful and mouth-watering.
It was offered to him.
Without a thought it took.
But it wasn't enough. For such a long time, for two decades, it had lived in a vegetative state. The gnawing hunger, the pain, the darkness of death coming ever-closer.
Here was its salvation.
Here was food.
It felt the bindings, the control. Someone was trying to moderate its intake.
None of that!
With a roar of hunger and the will to survive, it broke the chains holding it back, shattered the barriers channeling the energy.
 

The kitsune awoke with a mind-numbing power and strength. Neither of the two shamans had ever felt such a creature at its worst before. It was single-minded, homing in on the Sidhe so close by, latching onto Nick.
Caine's eyes flew open wide and he felt the startlement of Brian through their connection.
"Holy shit!" the younger shaman whispered, horrified. "No!"
The kitsune seemed to roar in triumph, a sound only audible on the spirit plane, and –
Caine gasped and Brian stumbled back, losing his concentration altogether.
"Damnit, no!"
Caine stared as the kitsune triggered the Sidhe, pouncing the other paranormal and releasing the most potent energy it could get hold of – sexual energy. The Sidhe responded in kind, and before their eyes Nick turned from a Phoenix Mimic into something matching the kitsune’s needs. He became a conduit for raw energy – and a willing participant to the kitsune’s seductive attempts.
The two shamans, overwhelmed by the effects, were only able to observe the process, because interrupting would cause the death of both kitsune and Sidhe.
Brian was pale as a sheet, a feat considering he was dark-skinned by nature, and Caine's expression was nothing but shock. Finally both men left the room, facing the waiting men outside.

* * *

On the other side of the door, Vin frowned, looking into the eyes of a little light green lizard that had appeared on his knee out of nowhere. The sound of flapping wings made him look up, just to see a little, gray owl landing on a shelf.
“Vin? You okay?” Buck asked.
“Yeah, I am. I mean, I am, but there’s something not quite right.” Vin answered quietly, not wanting the third party to hear him.
Gil Grissom was as edgy as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs – though he did his best not to show it. Vin pulled Buck up so they could talk at the other end of the room.
“What’s wrong?”
“Gecko.”
“Uh…?”
“My spirit animal? The one that always appears when something’s not right? Warning me and all? It’s here, as is Caine’s owl.”
“Vin, the man’s a shaman at work, of course his… “ Buck stopped dead in his tracks when Vin made a groaning sound and clasped his hands over his ears.
“What?”
 “The raven’s screaming, Buck… and there’s the fox again… I can see them… the fox’s holding the raven down, but… they’re not fighting. They’re… oh my god…” Vin’s face turned white as he looked toward the closed door.
“Vin? What is it?!”
“They didn’t expect this, Buck. Damn, damn, damn.”
“They didn’t expect what ? “
Vin looked back at Buck.
“They’re bonding.”
“You mean…?”
“Mating.”
“Shit.”

* * *

Behind closed doors the kitsune gave a triumphant bark that was far from human as it claimed its willing mate – and it was answered with an ecstatic cry.

* * *

A soft breeze was gently cooling his heated, sweaty skin when Nick slowly came around, closing his arms around the figure of his lover who was still lying on one of his thighs. He felt heavy and sated and a little tired – short, the lazy sensation of having made passionate love, and, when moving carefully, he hissed as a real intimate part of his body protested against it, telling him more clearly than anything else what he and his lover had just done – and if that hadn’t done the job the scent still hanging in the air would have been a dead giveaway. Though he couldn’t exactly remember…
Oh shit. Oh shit! Oh SHIT!
Nick froze when his wandering hands touched long straight hair instead of short and a little curly.
The ritual.
The energy flow… oh my god!
The man in his arms stirred, clouded hazel eyes looking at him. They widened in utter shock as Farnham realized what had happened.
“oh… my god… “
Farnham rolled away from him as fast as he could, turning away and groping for his pants. Wise decision, Nick’s still shock numbed mind agreed.
Get dressed.
Get out of here.

*

When Nick opened the door, he was faced with not just an empty room or just his lover, who he realized had been waiting outside. No, there were Vin and Buck, as well as Caine. Eyes wide in shock, he stared at them.
Vin looked slightly disturbed, Buck sympathetic, Caine's expression was unreadable, and Grissom… Nick felt blood rush into his face, mortal embarrassment taking a hold of him. Grissom's eyes spoke of disbelief, broken trust, betrayal and… pain. Nick swallowed heavily as he stared at the men, overwhelmed by their presence, their looks, their unspoken accusations, and with one last look at Gil, he hurried over to the bathroom.
He needed to get rid of the smell, the feeling of Farnham all over him. He wouldn't be able to get rid of the evident reminder of their night together, of the soreness, the very spikes of pain radiating from a certain area that had been almost abused.

*

Grissom watched the flight of his lover, listened to the door shutting, heard his own blood rush through his ears. The eyes of the criminalist had raked over the man exiting the room, had seen the traces of a night spent with passion, the disheveled hair, the rumpled clothes, and the guilt. That more than anything told him that what Vin had seen and Caine had told them was true.
Nick had slept with Farnham.
Farnham had slept with Nick.

* * *

Nick had taken a long, hot shower, scrubbing at his skin until he felt as raw outside as he did inside. The face looking back at him in the mirror had been a stranger, haunted by his leaky memory of the past night's events, and he had felt himself tremble and shake with the emotions overwhelming him.
He had slept with a complete stranger, with a man… with Farnham. He had betrayed his lover's trust, had given his body to this man… and he couldn't even remember enough to deal with it. Everything was sketchy, almost too hazy to be called a true memory, but his body was evidence enough. As a criminalist he would call himself a rape victim, he mused, his mind still too blank to think straight. Farnham had forced himself on Nick, had made him sleep with him, and no one had been able to stop him. Not the shamans, not Nick himself.
Dressing shakily, he finally left the bathroom, glad to see no one was waiting for him.
He needed to get out of here.
He needed air, needed to breathe.
Voices reached his ears and he flinched, like a burglar caught in a house that wasn't his. An intruder trying to get out.
Nick quietly made his way downstairs, praying no one would see him. He left the mansion, Hugh Farnham's mansion, and aimlessly followed the street. It was close to noon, his wrist watch told him.
He felt tired enough for it to be the middle of the night.
Shaking like an addict on withdrawal, he finally flagged down a cab and gave him the hotel's address where he and Grissom were staying.

*

The hotel room looked as untouched as he remembered it. Their clothes were in the closet, the suitcases stowed away, the bed made. Nick walked over to the closet and selected clothes, then dressed, needing to get rid of what he had worn. Despite his shower, the clothes felt dirty. Farnham was all over him; had been all over him. Literally.
In fresh clothes, he sat down on the bed, staring at the carpet, mind blanking once more. He had gone through such bouts several times on his way here. Was this how victims felt? Was his amnesia a way to deal with the horrible fact that he had let Farnham have his way with him? Or was it something else?
It should have been so simple. He, a Sidhe, feeding the kitsune, Farnham, some energy. What had happened after the initiation of the ritual? Why hadn't the shamans stopped it? Why had they let it happen? Had they left out those detail from their explanation? Had they been aware of the possibilities? Aware of the very fact that this was part of the ritual?
Nick felt sick and swallowed reflexively. He was still trembling, his fingers cold, and like in a trance he went over to the minibar and took out several candy bars, almost absent-mindedly eating them. His eyes fell on the liquor and a strong craving for the hard stuff rose inside him.
No. Not here. Not in the hotel.
He needed a drink, but a bar was much better suited for that.
He smiled dimly. Getting completely and utterly drunk was a really good idea, Nick decided, throwing the candy wrappers away. Forget the world, forget what little he could remember.

* * *

It had taken him too long to return to the hotel, Grissom knew. It had taken him too long to react to Nick's run. He had spent too long walking aimlessly through the streets. His thoughts had been whirling, his mind trying to cope with what had happened behind closed doors. All explanations couldn't give him the peace he needed to think straight and when he had finally found himself outside the hotel, it had been too late.
Nick had come to their shared room, changed clothes, and left again. No one at reception could tell him where to. No one had actually seen him leave.
Like a ghost, he was gone.
Gil had found himself at a loss as to what to do now. Calling Nick's cell phone had had no luck either. It would have been a surprise if it had. So in the end, he had done what he should have thought of earlier: go for help.
A cab had brought him to Chris and Ezra's house. It was early afternoon and the vampires were home. But not just them.
Grissom stared at the long-haired man in the casual, though still expensive outfit. Hugh Farnham gave him an almost apologetic smile.
"Dr. Grissom," he greeted him.
"I'm surprised to see you here," Gil said, straight forward and honest as usual.
"I suppose my reason to be here is the same as yours. Nick."
Grissom's face was like made of stone. Hearing this man mention his lover's name did something to him. He felt… almost sick.
"What do you still want of him?"
His voice was harsher than normal and there was an almost hostile note to it, but Grissom didn't care. This man had used and abused his lover. Whatever needs he had had, whatever the shamans had said, it was over. He wouldn't let them perform another ritual.
"Dr. Grissom," Ezra said, his soft voice holding an immense power that brought the other man around. "Mr. Farnham came here because he was worried."
"Mr. Farnham or the kitsune?" Grissom wanted to know.
Farnham smiled dimly. "I am that kitsune, Dr. Grissom."
Gil's expression said it all. 'Exactly'.
"You came here for the same reason," Ezra continued. "You worry, you don't know where he is, and you want our help."
Grissom reined in his emotions and faced the vampire. "Yes."
"And you will get it. The community has been set on alert. I don't think Nick has left town. He's here… and we'll find him."
Grissom looked at Farnham again, an unclear animosity rising inside him. The man had done nothing but what the shamans had told him. He had tried to survive, had done so for a long time, and he had suffered. Still, he had touched Nick in the worst way. Taking energy was one thing, taking the body, too… He swallowed hard and forced himself not to think about it.
Not now.

* * *

Farnham sighed as he looked at the small bar, shaking his head. The kitsune inside him was urging him to enter the run-down establishment in a part of town he would never voluntarily set foot in. At least this time of the day. Seedy was too good a word for it.
Nodding at the driver to wait, he pushed the door open and entered the small bar, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Music blared from the loudspeakers and assaulted his ears. The smell of stale beer, hard liquor and tobacco entered his nostrils and he barely refrained from wrinkling his nose. Neon lights and pictures adorned the walls. People sat on tables, in booths or against the bar. No one looked up when he entered. Looking around he discovered the object of his search.
Nick wasn't hard to find, sitting at the bar, slumped over, a beer and several shots in front of him. He was staring into the glass as if it held all the answers – which it didn't.
Farnham approached and the barkeep looked up, frowning. When Hugh stopped next to Nick, calling his name, the burly man came over.
"You his friend?"
"I know him," Farnham answered calmly.
"Better get him home. Had enough. Been drinking like he's tryin' t'kill himself."
He sighed. "Yes, probably. Nick?"
Glassy, dark eyes looked at him and Nick muttered something unintelligible.
"Been here since opening hours. Couldn't get him to eat somethin' and he's been payin' in advance. Good customer, but no drinker," the barkeep commented. "Need help?"
"No, I think I can manage. C'mon, Nick."
Farnham got a shoulder under the younger man and heaved him to his feet, staggering as the weight fell on him. Huffing slightly, he pulled and dragged Nick outside, where his driver lent a helping hand.
As they sat in the back of the car, Farnham looked at the almost unconscious man. The kitsune inside him was drawn between need for the Sidhe and mourning his state. He was connected to this man, like it or not, and he needed him still. He was worried about Nick, about his state of mind, and he knew he wasn't alone.
He just wondered if the worry came from his human side or the paranormal in him that didn't want to lose a ready source of life energy.

* * *

He sat in the living room of Vin's apartment, turning his drink around in his hands. The two werewolves had retreated, giving him and Grissom space, and the two vampires hadn't even made an appearance yet. Privacy. They respected the need for it. Farnham was glad.
Looking up he met the blue eyes of the Las Vegas criminalist, trying to find something in them that gave him hope. He knew what this was. Nick was Grissom's partner, his lover, his… mate, the kitsune in him thought. Since freeing that part of him, a lot of things were suddenly viewed in a different light, interpreted another way, and mates was one of them. Vin and Buck, Chris and Ezra, JD and Karen. All of them were together for life, held together by something invisible, something strong, something Farnham had yet to find. Now he had insinuated himself between Nick and his lover. He had probably driven a wedge between them.
"Dr. Grissom," he started, breaking the silence. "I lay no claim to Nick. Nor does the kitsune. "
"But you need him," the older man argued quietly.
He sighed. "Yes. I need his Sidhe side, the very essence of what he is. It doesn't mean I'm trying to get him from you. I don't love him."
"Sex and love are two different things," was the so frighteningly calm reply. "You two had sex. Twice."
Farnham winced. How could the man talk about it like this? How could he be so distant? He had bloody well slept with Nick, right under Grissom's nose!
"How do you think I feel, Dr. Grissom? I'm straight. All my past relationships ended badly. I nearly killed all my bed partners! Now… with Nick… I don't remember a thing. Just fragments and they don't tell me much, except what I never wanted to know."
He exhaled sharply and took a large gulp of his drink.
"It's confusing."
"Would it have been easier to have a female Sidhe instead of a male?" Grissom asked curiously.
He glared at the man. "No! It doesn't matter, because the actual act was nothing more than… non-consent sex! I know you're in law enforcement, Dr. Grissom. What do you call what we did? It's bloody rape!"
Grissom's eyes tightened and Farnham glared more, willing the other man to just lose his damned control and shout at him.
"It was non-consensual," he finally admitted.
Hugh intensified his stare, needing to finally hear the accusations, have the other man get if off his chest. But Grissom remained calm.
"No one knew what would happen throughout the ritual," he went on. "Even the shamans, and I believe their experience in the matter is rather extensive."
"You're looking for excuses for the obvious," the business tycoon growled. "I took what's yours and neither of us is happy with it. Only the kitsune seems to be content and I hate that part. I can still bloody well feel Nick! It's how I found him in that bar!"
“You what?!”
Now he had a reaction. Eyebrows had shot up and Grissom seemed to tense.
“I still feel him. There’s… I don’t know how to describe it… a bond…?... between us. There’s still energy flowing.”
“You mean you still…?”
“Want him? Need him? I don't lust after your partner, Grissom. I don't desire him. The kitsune needs him, though, but not in that way again. Never again. I just… it feels good to know he's there, to touch the energy he so readily gives me. But I won't do anything else to him ever again. No offence, he’s a handsome guy and all, but I don’t want him that way. I’m not interested in men, not interested in Nick, and most certainly not interested in having sex with him. I wasn’t interested in him in the first place, and if I had had a say it wouldn’t have happened. Understood?”
“Clearly.”
“Good.” Farnham emptied the glass. "Don't you think you should be with him? I doubt Nick's in a good shape after what he ingested… And you two have to talk. Badly."
He rose and walked toward the door, intent on leaving.
"Mr. Farnham?"
The quiet voice stopped him. "Yes?"
Grissom's face was unreadable, then the older man nodded once. "Thank you for bringing him home."
He twitched a smile, nodded, then left.

* * *

Nick woke to the sensation of a splitting headache, nausea rolling through him and his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. It felt cottony… swollen… and he had a bad taste lingering on it. His limbs, while still attached to his body, didn't really follow his commands and his brain was a piece of sluggish, gray mass between his ears.
Gawd, he felt bad.
No, worse. A lot worse than bad.
He blinked his eyes open and was relieved to find that wherever he was, the blinds had been pulled. Someone placed a wonderfully cold cloth onto his forehead, wiping over his face.
"Nicky?"
The voice was gentle, almost soothing to his rolling stomach and dizzy mind.
"Gil?"
"Yes."
“If ya kill a Phoenix with a hangover, will he come back with a hangover?” Nick moaned.
He felt like dying. Once and for all, just to end this misery.
“You aren’t a Phoenix any more.”
Grissom’s voice pulled him out of his haze… bringing back most unwelcome images and memories…
Not a Phoenix any more…
Not…?
But… but he and Grissom.. their… bond.. their…
Oh… God…
Nick felt like throwing up and it had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol he had ingested.
What had he done? What the hell had he done? How could he possibly have ever… cheated? a cruel hard voice whispered in his mind.
On your lover, while he was in the other room, for crying out loud. Trusting you…
“’m sorry, Gris. Never meant to … y’know… never ever … “
“Stop that, Nick.”
“Wasn’t myself…”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Never wanted ta cheat on ya, never… “
“According to Caine, you didn't cheat,” Gil's reasonable voice told him. "The Mimic reacted to the needs of the kitsune."
"I slept with the man!" Nick snarled, then groaned as his head started to pound more viciously.
"The Mimic did, yes."
Dark eyes blazed with pain and anger. "I am that Mimic, Gil! I slept with him! I let him… I let him!" He swallowed. Part of him perversely remembered fragments of the encounter.
Damn!
"Nick, get some more rest. We'll talk more later."
The warm hand touching him was more than Nick could bear. It hurt to have Grissom so understanding when all Nick wanted was his lover yelling at him, accusing him of cheating, throwing him out on his sore butt.
How could Grissom be so calm about it? Because Caine had told him it had been a paranormal thing? Great! How about using that excuse each and every time something went wrong?
Nick buried his head in the pillows with a soft moan.
And then there was the fact that, since the kitsune had latched onto him, his treacherous Mimic skills had turned to the needy being. He was no longer a Phoenix, no longer bonded to Grissom. He was what the kitsune, what Farnham, needed.
Nick screwed his eyes shut, shaking.
No, no, no!
He had to get away from here! Away from Farnham, from Grissom, from the epicenter of Armageddon. It was Armageddon for him. He had not only betrayed his lover, his partner of so many years, he had actually lost all connection with him as a Phoenix.
"Gil," Nick whimpered. "I'm sorry."
 
* * *

Grissom sat at the kitchen table, sipping at his coffee. The black liquid felt good running down his throat, into his system, and part of him craved more of it. Another part told him to go back to Nick, lay down with him, be there. That part was growing stronger, drowning out the unreasonable part that screamed betrayal at him.
He had talked to Farnham, had heard the man's apology, had read it as sincere. There was no danger there. Farnham wasn't taking Nick from him. Caine had explained to him what had happened and it sounded logical, but logic was farthest on his mind. Emotions were churning through him, drowning out the scientist who was struggling to make himself heard.
Follow the evidence, he told himself forcefully. Evidence doesn't lie.
Nick is a Mimic. He can be whatever he wants to be. For now he was the Sidhe Farnham needed to survive. He was the kitsune's partner, comfort and nourishment.
Nick is your partner. Yours. Alone yours. No one else has ever claimed him like you. You two are one and he would never betray you. The events went out of hand. Even the shamans confessed to having been overwhelmed. They couldn't stop it once it had started.
Nick needs you.
Grissom sighed and hung his head. Yes, Nick needed him and he needed Nick, but the mere thought of what Farnham had done, what he had touched…
He needs you!
"Dr. Grissom?"
Startled, he looked up. Calm, dark eyes gazed steadily at him and Grissom willed his racing heart back under control again. Caine was looking at him, then settled down in the chair opposite. He hadn't heard him approach!
A mug of tea was placed on the worn kitchen table.
"May I be open, Dr. Grissom?" the shaman asked.
He nodded once.
"You are a man of science and logic. You are a man whose world, despite its disorder all around you, is orderly. You are a man who is completely aware of himself, of your abilities, your limits, your passions. At least that was until you met Nick Stokes. Love can change a lot, Dr. Grissom. Good and bad. You have ups and downs. You need to learn to rearrange your world around the intruder into your life. You either manage or you fail. You have managed. You and Nick form a unity. You are two souls who fought to be what you are now. You trust each other."
The dark eyes grew more intense and Grissom felt himself riveted to the spot.
"Exercise that trust, Dr. Grissom. He needs you more than ever. His world has been shattered, yours is merely cracked. Nick is a strong man, but he went beyond his limits, even as a Mimic. No one could even guess what might happen. We misunderstood the kitsune's need, the sheer power it would gather to get what it needed. It took and we couldn't break the cycle. Don't blame Nick for what he couldn't control. We, the shamans, were there to protect him and we failed. Blame us, not him."
"I don't blame him," Grissom said softly.
"You look at him with different eyes, you feel like he is no longer the man you know. That's wrong, Dr. Grissom. He is just the same. But he needs more from you than a pat on the back. He needs your acceptance, not your hesitation to touch him."
Grissom looked at the Asian and finally broke the intense gaze.
"Nothing has changed, Dr. Grissom," Caine insisted. "He is still yours and Farnham has no claim on him."
"I know," he whispered.
"Apply your logic and science. It will tell you what happened. Emotions are treacherous."
Caine rose and took the mug with him as he left. Grissom sank back into the chair and gazed at the ceiling. Emotions were treacherous. He knew that. He had denied them for too long because of it. Nick had shown him that there was beauty in letting go, in handing control to someone else. Nick was… his lover, his partner, his balance, his sanity, his world.
Grissom rose slowly and walked back to the bedroom. He opened the door and peeked inside. The blinds were closed, the bed empty. For a moment he was frozen, shocked to find Nick gone, then the door to the bathroom opened and his lover appeared. Freshly showered, his face pale and showing signs of emotions that made Grissom cringe. Dark eyes widened as they discovered the older man.
"Gil…"
There was so much hope in the simple word.
Grissom closed the door behind him as he walked to the other man, taking in the tension, the stance of imminent flight, and he carefully reached out to touch one clean shaven cheek.
"Nick," he said softly and pulled gently.
Nick gave a soft sound of need and desperation as he fell into the easily offered comfort. Grissom wrapped his arms around him, holding on tight as strong arms equally held on to him.
They made it to the bed.
Under the covers.
And Nick gave a soft sob, eyes bright with unshed tears as he held on desperately.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Grissom stroked over the short hair. "You did nothing wrong, Nick. Nothing at all. It's okay."
He pressed a kiss against one temple, then suddenly found his mouth captured by eager lips. The kiss was demanding, almost bruising in strength and he pushed back a little, gazing into the turmoiled, brown eyes.
"Gil, please," Nick begged softly.
"Nicky…"
"I want you. I need you. Please?"
He caressed the pale features, took in the desperation, the pleading, the raw emotions.
"I can't remember everything," Nick told him brokenly, "but it's enough what there is… I need to forget what it felt like. I want to remember what you feel like…"
Gil kissed him, silencing the words. Feverish hands tugged at his clothes and he let his younger lover undress him, kiss him, pet and stroke him. Nick needed him, and he needed Nick. He wanted to feel him again, make sure he was all right, and part of him, a primal part, wanted to reclaim him.
For now, that was all right.
Later, they would have to talk.

* * *

He was the first to wake and Gil took his time to watch his dark-haired lover, the pale, slightly square features, the strong jaw and handsome lines, the prominent cheek bones and the arch of the winged eyebrows. He followed the strong neck to the shoulders, down the slender body with just the right amount of muscles. Grissom let his hands lightly stroke over the exposed chest. He didn't aim to arouse; he just needed to touch.
Last night had been filled with frantic loving, followed by slow, almost sensual snuggling that led to more love-making. The second time had been less frenetic, less needy, just… strong and possessive.
He leaned over and kissed Nick's forehead, brushing his lips over the smooth skin. When he pulled back he looked into a pair of deeply brown eyes, almost black in this light. The sleepy gaze fell on him and Grissom smiled. He placed a reassuring hand against one stubbly cheek as the first flickers of memories coming back hit the dark eyes. Nick's breathing hitched briefly.
Grissom kissed him again, running his tongue over the familiar lips.
"I love you, Nick," he breathed. "I love you."
"Gil…"
He continued to caress the pale cheek with one thumb, holding the questioning look.
"Nothing has changed," he emphasized. "There's only us."
Nick's face changed dramatically, from insecurity, shame and slight fear to hope, love and need. His arms came around his older lover and Grissom found his mouth under assault. He willingly gave in.
"I don't want to go out," Nick murmured against his neck as they parted and he buried his head there. "I want to stay here, with you, forever."
Gil chuckled and rolled them around, Nick now slightly on top of him. "We can stay a bit longer, Nick. But I think we should face this head on. Now. Today."
Nick swallowed heavily. "Okay," he finally murmured, letting his head fall against his lover's chest. "Later."
Grissom stroked over the dark head and held him, content.
"Shower?" he offered after a long silence.
"Hmpf."
"I take that as a yes."
"Hey!" Nick protested softly as Grissom slipped out under him. "No fair."
Nude, in all his glory, Grissom shot him a slight smile and walked into the bathroom. Hungry eyes followed him and Nick threw back the cover, hurrying after the enticing sight.

* * *

Facing Farnham was one of the hardest things Nick ever had to do. He felt exposed, naked, stripped of every defense as he walked into the living room. He was fully clothed of course. Showered, shaved and dressed. Grissom was behind him, his hand briefly brushing against the small of his back in a gesture of reassurance, giving him strength.
Looking at Hugh Farnham, Nick was shocked to see someone else before him. Yes, it was still Farnham, but the man had changed. He looked… healthy. His face was no longer so sunken, the eyes haunted, his pallor so sickly. He seemed to fill out his clothes a lot more, his eyes had a glow to them, his skin was more rosy.
Farnham looked at him, expression serious, waiting. Nick just stayed frozen to the spot, feeling a slight tremor run through him as memories began to rush back again. Memories of their… encounter. Of the kitsune taking a hold of the man, a hold of the Mimic, making them one.
"Nick," Farnham started. "I apologize. Had I known…"
Stokes shook his head. "No. No one could know. It happened. At least it helped." He tried a smile.
Farnham chuckled a little. "Yeah, it did. Thank you."
Nick shrugged, that feeling of fight or flight almost overwhelming him. A warm hand touching his back made him almost flinch, but Grissom soft voice calmed him.
"Come on, sit down."
They sank onto the couch and Farnham took the couch chair.
"What now?" he asked after a while, voice soft.
Farnham looked at him, then shrugged. "I talked to Caine. He said the kitsune is healing, but it will need some more time and energy to get me to the level I should be."
"So… I'm your snack for an unforeseeable time?"
The other man winced, a pained expression around his mouth. "Nick… I know you weren’t asked to be that; at least like this. You had no choice. Neither had I. As soon as I know how I’ll break this bond neither of us wanted to have.”
Nick and Grissom stared at the tycoon, realizing for the first time that Farnham hadn’t asked for this either. He had wanted help, yes, but he hadn't planned on ending up in bed with the only person who could help him. And nobody had ever asked him how he felt about this.
“How do you feel?” Farnham wanted to know, voice soft.
Nick avoided his eyes for a second. “Honestly? Used. And it doesn’t help that I don’t remember anything.” He glanced at Hugh, who seemed to find his shoes the most interesting thing in the world all of a sudden. “I don’t blame you, Mr. Farnham. You weren’t asked either.”
“But I was the one using you.” The reply was calm and level, yet speaking of a hurt of its own. "I was told that you could heal this other part of me, give it a chance to survive. Caine never mentioned what might be the result of this healing."
“He didn't know," Nick replied, voice taking on a hint of sadness. "And you didn’t have control over it yourself. No one thought something like that would happen, because no one knew.”
“But you still feel used.”
Farnham's green-brown eyes were compassionate, but also filled with guilt.
“…yes …”
“And I hurt you."
Nick swallowed. "I know it wasn't you. It wasn't us. It'll take a while to be comfortable with it, but… you needed what I had to give… at least on some levels. Not on all. I agreed to be the donor."
He inhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if to wipe away the memories.
"How do we handle this? I can't stay here forever."
Grissom's hand had come to almost possessively rest on his thigh and Nick interlaced their fingers, squeezing the hand reassuringly.
"We will find a suitable donor," a new voice interrupted and Caine walked into the room, followed by Chris and Ezra.
The two vampires gave the three men a once-over, Chris seeking eye-contact with both Grissom and Nick to reassure himself somewhat. Nick managed a small smile, but it lacked conviction. He knew he would need a lot of time, and space, to deal with what had happened. In medical terms it would have been called 'trauma'.
"JD already volunteered. He's a warlock and able to give the kitsune part of what it needs. We also called Commander Reed and he's on his way here." At Farnham's questioning look, Ezra added, "Nicholas Reed is a warlock like JD, but unlike our young friend he has the necessary experience and controlled power for a long-term exposure to the kitsune's energy draw."
"I see…"
"The moment Commander Reed is here, you can go home, Nick," Caine told the criminalist calmly. "For now, I advise you rest and regain your strength. We will not initiate anything like the ritual and I doubt the kitsune actually needs it. It has been freed, fed, and now it just takes small portions."
"Oh. Good."
Grissom grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and Nick gave him a weary smile.

* * *

Night had settled over Salt Lake and with it, Chris had returned to work, taking over the cases of The Branch once more, dealing with every day crime and crime lab business. Ezra was busy at the Grotto and with the community, and only Vin had remained behind – at Caine's request. What he was needed for, Tanner had no idea, but he was glad to have some time to talk to the shaman, who understood a lot more about spirit walking and spirit guides than him. He still had so many gaps in his knowledge and being around Caine was like filling in the blanks.
Movement caught his eye as he walked through the silent house. There were no servants present at the moment and he doubted there had ever been more than maybe a maid and the butler. Wherever they were now, no one had shown throughout the days they had been here now.
Vin stopped. He had never seen anything like it before. The geologist knew he was staring, but he couldn't do anything but. The sight was too fantastic.
It was a bird, that much was for sure. And it had to be Grissom's spirit guide. That was a given, too. The way it was hovering close to the raven was a dead giveaway. It was much larger than the still slightly injured raven, which was only slowly recovering from the ordeal. Huge, blood red wings covered the smaller, midnight black bird, cradling it close to the fiery body. The feathers seemed to spark, to sizzle with energy, with fire, and each feather was an artwork of liquid colors. Red, golden, yellow and orange all combined to make the bird the most awe-inspiring being Vin had ever seen.
Long tail feathers stretched out behind the impressive creature. Black eyes regarded Vin warily, then it turned back its companion, watching the raven with eagle eyes. It long, elegant neck bowed a little to nuzzle the black bird, rubbing against its beak.
"Can you see it?"
Vin turned to look at Caine who had noiselessly come closer.
"Yes. It's magnificent."
They were currently outside the room Grissom and Nick shared while Nick had to stay close to Farnham. Caine had been assigned a guest room, too.
"What is it, Caine?"
"Something no one has ever seen before in such beauty and splendor. It's a phoenix, Vin."
"Grissom's," Vin murmured, convinced that there was no other animal for the Las Vegas criminalist.
"Yes."
"But.. isn't a phoenix a mythological bird? Aren't spirit guides usually real animals?"
The shaman smiled. "Almost all are, but sometimes, the myths come to life, too. This one doesn't surprise me, looking at the pair it represents. Tell me what you know about the raven, Vin."
The geologist frowned slightly, trying to recall what he had read. And he had read a lot about spirit guides.
"Rebirth without fear. The ability to tear down what needs to be rebuilt. Renewal. Introspection. New occurrences. Eloquence," he ticked off what he could remember.
Caine nodded his approval. "Yes. The phoenix is connected to the raven as a spirit animal. It is the Keeper of the Fire of Creation, the Protector of all Fire. It stands for death and rebirth, and like the raven is renewal, the phoenix is regeneration."
"So Grissom is a Phoenix and he has a spirit guide that is the same?"
Another nod.
"Do all Phoenixes have them?"
"No. This is the first I've seen in a very long time. It's here for the raven, Vin. Its connection brought them together, like the two men were connected so many years ago when Nick's Mimic abilities latched onto the awakening Phoenix that was Gil Grissom."
Vin nodded. It was a fascinating subject. shamanism working with spirit animals… he knew would never know everything, whatever time he spent working on it, but he would never tire of it either.
"They are both healing," Caine interrupted his thoughts. "We should leave them to it. They will need their strengths. Until the kitsune has been stabilized, Nick has to be there for him."
"Yeah. Not an easy task."
Vin didn't envy his friend. Not at all.

* * *

The mansion had grown oppressive. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, and so Nick had fled outside, choosing one of the large double glass doors to flee out into the open. Standing next to a large stone statue, an artwork by some artist he had never heard of before, he inhaled deeply, trying to calm his thoughts. They were a jumbled mess and little made sense. What he could decipher from his turmoiled emotions frightened him and he clamped down on the surging panic.
An old panic.
A dealt with panic.
Or so he had thought.
The last twenty-four hours had been a flurry of talking, explanations and trying to relax in the presence of the man he had slept with against his will. Hugh Farnham had done everything to make Nick comfortable, even offered him to return to the hotel should he choose so. Nick had declined. He knew his very presence was needed to continue feeding the kitsune small portions of Sidhe energy, and so he stayed.
Gil had stayed as well, not hovering, but still close by. Caine was there, keeping an eye on Farnham's paranormal side. So was Brian. He felt like a participant in a Big Brother show, but without the cameras. Everyone was watching them.
Now things were getting too much. Memories of old resurfaced, confronting him with the most horrible moment of his life over twenty-five years ago.
Touched against his will and molested.
Helpless.
Hiding.
Crying.
Hands stroking over him. Not in a soothing manner but to explore… to arouse.
Nick inhaled sharply and fell against the square pedestal the statue sat on.
Shit. Shitshitshit!
He had dealt with the past! He was over this! He had been a nine year old child and his babysitter's boyfriend had expressed more than a passing interest in him. There had been no way for him to escape, to defy the much older boy. He had suffered through it – and he had dealt with it!
Why did this feel like what had happened back then?
Because in a way it was. Farnham had taken him against his will… he had been unable to say no. In all books it was rape, but Nick knew that this time it wasn't so easy. This time there was the paranormal angle, and the Mimic had decided to help the kitsune.
Shit.
He ran a hand over his face, feeling tremors race through him.
Farnham wasn't anything like the person who had touched him as a child. He was as much a victim as Nick. In a way he had been taken by force as well.
"Nick?"
The warm, worried voice made him whirl around and his wide eyes met Grissom's blue ones.
"Nick? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he whispered. "Just…" He made a general gesture. "I needed some air."
Grissom touched him gently and he tried not to stiffen, but he failed miserably.
"Nicky?"
He drew a shuddering breath and managed a dim smile. "Just… memories, Gil."
Silent eyes asked hi to continue.
"From... back then… I know Farnham isn't like that. He didn't want it any more than I did… but try telling that to that damaged brain of mine." He laughed briefly. "It's like some freaky flashback I can't control. I've dealt with it, Gil. I know I have…"
Grissom seemed to finally pierce through the babbling and he cupped one cheek tenderly, running his thumb over the smooth skin. "Nick, something like what happened to you is not forgotten. You can only handle it, but flashbacks happen," he said softly. "And what you went through…"
Nick shook his head, not wanting to hear it again. He was fed up with having to go through the sympathies over and over again.  Grissom's eyes filled with sympathy nevertheless, but he remained silent. Instead he pulled him close and Nick let himself fall forward, embracing the older man.
"Do you want to leave?" Gil asked after a while.
"No. I'm needed. I can't just leave him alone."
"Okay."
Nick stood back and looked at him. "Really?"
"Yes, really, Nicky. I'll stay with you as long as it takes."
"Thanks."
Nick leaned forward and brushed his lips over Grissom's.

*

From the second floor French windows, Hugh Farnham watched the two men, their intimate moment, their gestures and mimicry. The kitsune had felt Nick's confusion, his fear, his emotions. It was aghast by the fact that it had triggered the darkness that seemed to reside inside the younger man, but it also wouldn't let go of its only source of food. It needed Nick; Farnham needed Nick. What had happened throughout the ritual had given him sleepless nights and guilt trips already, and it didn't feel like it would change soon.
There was nothing he could do to help Nick. Nick was his help, not the other way around.
Farnham had never felt so helpless, so utterly disgusted at himself, and so fed up.
According to Ezra, Nicholas Reed would be here in the next two days. The man was still in San Francisco, wrapping up his own business before he could come here. Until then, he needed this young criminalist.
Hugh turned away from the window, feeling sick.

* * *

Night had fallen over the city and while Chris and his team were at work again, earning their living, discovering and securing evidence that would lock up suspects for years, calming victims and telling the tales of each body's death, Nick and Gil were spending their time with Hugh Farnham. At least they were in the same house as the billionaire. The man had made it a point to be polite, but to stay out of their way if he could help it. He usually hid behind work and company business.
Nick had taken to reading in the library, a passion he shared with his lover, but Grissom was growing restless. He had called Catherine once to check up on things, had given her the fake story of his 'case' and 'consultant status', and that had been it. Caine kept coming and going, sometimes with Brian, but things were getting tense and by the time the day had turned into night, Grissom was ready to scale the walls.
Just thinking that wherever Farnham was, he was drawing on Nick's energy, was touching his lover in a way that wasn't even visible, was keeping the Mimic in the state of a Sidhe where he had been a Phoenix before…
He finally called it a day. Nick was more than glad to follow him to their room where both men snuggled together, exchanging kisses and gentle touches. Nick quickly fell asleep, secure in Grissom's arms. Warm, alive, his…
 

Caine looked at him, a sad expression in his eyes. He looked so apologetic, Grissom wanted nothing more than to strangle the Asian.
“A bond was formed between Kitsune and Sidhe throughout the… joining.”
Why couldn't he call it as it was? Sex! Nick had had sex with another man. With Hugh Farnham. Young, handsome, rich.
Dark brown eyes blazed at him. Pale, haggard features in stark contrast to the young, healthy man he had known. Sunken cheeks, the hollow expression in the formerly so lively eyes; eyes that now showed deep shadows underneath.
“Great. Real great. How far do I have to run to get rid of that?”
The voice was harsh, cold, but laced with an incredible pain.
“You can’t. As long as you are the Sidhe the bond can’t be broken.”
Caine again, but the man was gone. The shaman had disappeared from one second to the next, leaving Grissom to deal with the fallout of their experiment.
“I didn’t ask to be that!”
“But that’s what you are, Nicky,” he said sadly.
Nick laughed harshly, a sound that made Grissom flinch in pain. “Is that true? Then I’ll be the toy for every fucking paranormal who wants to use me!” he spat.
It was uttered with so much venom Grissom almost staggered back in shock. “You never were a toy for me…“ he stammered.
“But you still believe I’d go running off with the next best pretty face!” Nick's face was twisted in an anger that was so deep, so real, so agonizingly hot and alive, Grissom could feel it touch him on a primal level.
“You…did sleep with him…“ he heard himself say, cringing at his own words.
Nick just looked at him for a second before something subtly changed in his face, in his body language. Defeat?
“Why did you even bother coming.”
It was a whisper, barely audible, and it wasn’t exactly a question.
“Because I love you.”
“You don’t trust me!”
“Of course I do.”
Nick snorted. “Yeah, right. If you trusted me as you said you do, we wouldn’t be here right now. Speaking of which, I don’t want you here. Leave.”
Grissom stared at his lover’s back, not believing, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. This could only be a dream, a really bad dream.
“Nicky … “
The younger man jerked around, fury blazing in his eyes. “You say you love me! You trust me! Did you ask me just ONCE how I feel about all of this? How I felt waking up and realizing I just had sex with a man who wasn’t you and couldn’t even remember anything, let alone agreeing to it? Just feeling the pain as a living reminder? In our line of work this is called rape, Grissom."
Grissom felt himself pale as the enraged words rushed forth, washing over him in their intensity, battering against shields that had long since cracked.
“But just because we’re not normal anymore it is acceptable, right?" Nick cried.
Grissom swallowed, staggering back for real this time. There was so much venom, so much pain and hurt in Nick’s voice, and so much fury. Fury directed at him.
“Nick… what can I do? All I know is I love you. I made a mistake…”
“Not your first one," Nick told him coldly. "Still all the time I trusted you because I believed you trusted me. But every time we were together, every time you slept with me I could see it in your eyes, the question: will this be the last time? You were so damn sure I'd find someone better, younger, whatever, and just leave you. And you wouldn’t believe me, no matter what I did! I wasn’t good enough for you, Grissom. You never trusted me!”
Now the pain changed, turned from emotional to something even more intimate. It hit somewhere so deeply, so personally, it was debilitating.
Ohmygod, was all Grissom could think.
"It's over, Gil! Over!"
He drew a shuddering breath, not used to emotional outpours. But this was all or nothing.
“You’re right when you say that every time I looked at you I asked myself when it would be the last time. I couldn’t make myself believe. And then, it finally happened…“
“It DIDN’T happen! I had NO CHOICE!" Nick interrupted him, renewed fury in his voice, eyes bright with the same emotion. He was trembling, too." We finally get to know what we are. You are a Phoenix, and I am a Mimic and now that we know what it means you reject this part of me. You rejected me, Grissom! You pushed me away! You, the only person I never thought would do that to me – and you rejected me. Do you have the slightest idea what that did to me? I NEEDED you, and you turned AWAY!”
There was a small pause before Nick continued, slower and more quietly.
“Okay. I see. We did try, we gave our best, but it just didn’t work out. You still don’t trust me, so I better get out of your life. You’re free – go.”
There was no sound to be heard, no indication, no giveaway. Hearts broke in silence, and this every moment Gil Grissom felt his shattering into tiny little pieces.
“Nick …
"Go."
He swallowed, noting the little shivers in his lover's slender body multiplying. It was cold out here, but it had nothing to do with the climate. This was a cold settled far deeper.
“I don’t want you to leave, Nicky. I don’t want to be free anymore. Please…”
"No!"
 

Grissom woke abruptly, eyes snapping open, and he gave a little moan as realization hit. It had been a nightmare… a really bad dream.
Rolling around he heard Nick murmur something and suddenly he was looking into the very same eyes that had furiously accused him just minutes ago… in his dreams.
"Gil?"
He tried to reassure him that everything was fine, but no words left his mouth. The dream had been so real, had held so much truth… except for the part that he was afraid of losing Nick to someone younger. That fear he had dealt with long ago.
Right?
Right?!
The Nick in his nightmare had been right; oh so right. It had been Grissom's deepest fear, his only fear. He had opened himself to this wonderful man, made himself vulnerable, and all the time a part of him had reminded him just what would happen. Not what 'could', but what would happen with dead certainty. Grissom had been convinced Nick would be gone one day.
But then he had stopped thinking, stopped analyzing. Part of him had suddenly stilled, silenced, and another part had taken over. It was that part that still defined him, that took this relationship as something special. He had come to accept his fear, had seen the evidence to the contrary, and he had gone on with his life. The stress of the last forty-eight hours had simply overwhelmed him.
A hand touched him, caressed him, and he looked into worried, inquiring brown eyes. "Gil?" Nick wanted to know.
He leaned down and kissed him gently. "Bad dream," Grissom said softly.
"Oh. Want to talk?"
He studied the pale and still too haggard features of his lover. "You had run away, away from everything, from me. You said I pushed you away. Because I was afraid."
Nick clasped his hand and his eyes bore into Grissom's. "Afraid of what?"
"That you would find someone else, like Farnham. Younger, rich, handsome… and that you would leave me."
"Gil…"
He silenced him with a finger against the lips and smiled.
"I'm no longer afraid of that, Nick. I know what we have. The last few days were just… a lot to handle. I know what we are, who we are. I was afraid in the past. I used to hide behind science, tried to keep people at bay. Science was safe. It was my shield against a world where everything around me constantly changed. I learned how to use these shields when I was a child. Quite early on. When my father left me and my mother alone.
"But then you came, and you would have none of it, you kept worming your way through my barriers, kept running against my walls until you made them tumble down; and then there was nothing safe there anymore, all my guards down, and I was … I was so scared, Nick. Everybody used to leave… my father -- when I was five; and my mother went deaf, and … there was science, my only safe haven.
"There's nothing unforeseeable in science, everything works by rules, logic. I was a ghost, Nick, and I wanted it that way. Nobody can hurt a ghost.
“I had lost so many things, I didn’t want to be hurt anymore, I couldn’t believe this was happening. To me. It was too good to be true – so I think I somehow wanted it to be not true. But you refused to be pushed away."
"You can't get rid of me that easily," Nick whispered, pulling Grissom close against him. He was awed and shocked by the revelations; the confession.
He fell willingly into the embrace, felt lips brush against his cheek.
"I love you. No one else interests me. Younger, richer, whatever. You are it, Gil Grissom."
He had to smile at the vow and leaned up to kiss his lover. The kiss was eagerly answered, then the two men settled down comfortably, Nick caressing Gil's back in a soothing manner.

* * *

Nick Reed stepped out of the airport and blinked into the glaring sun. It wasn't hot, but it was bright, and after too short a night and his flight to Salt Lake, he was a bit tired. In the last two days, ever since Ezra's call, he had been trying to cope with the news of a kitsune needing someone to feed off. The existence of a kitsune was mind-numbing already. That this kitsune was also an international business figure was the next shock – though Nick had never heard of Hugh Farnham before. The world of business wasn't his. That Farnham had nearly killed himself because he hadn't understood what he was had been the third blow. He was still alive and growing healthier because of Nick Stokes. The Mimic had donated 'life', but they needed Reed until Farnham was stable enough and had learned how control the kitsune's hunger.
Well, as a warlock he knew just when to cut an energy flow and he was strong enough to give what the semi-magical being needed. Nick knew what had happened to his name-sake, though. Ezra had explained all the details to him, whether Nick had wanted to know or not. Of course, they were important, but hearing about the non-consensual intercourse had been a bit stunning anyway.
Reed was aware of what this meant. He could end up in the same position – literally. Well, he had no plans to let the kitsune send him into a mindless sexual rush. Stokes's powers were passive; he couldn't control them at will. Reed could. It made him the better candidate.
Sighing, he hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the hotel he would be staying at.  When he arrived, he simply checked in, showered, then went into the restaurant for a meal. He had called Ezra and the vampire had given him Farnham's address. He would meet with the man later today.
It would be interesting, Nick mused. Kitsune had been legends, fairy tales brought on by man, he had always believed. A variation of the werewolf, so to speak. A Japanese werewolf, more or less. But now it turned out to be true.
Leaving the hotel, Nick stretched his legs as he walked down the busy streets, heading nowhere in particular. Maybe he would call JD, see if his student wanted to grab a coffee with him before he had to head into work. Or he could drop by the Grotto for a talk with Luther.
Something touched his senses.
Nick's eyes immediately scanned around and again he felt the strange sensation.
Something old.
Something powerful.
Something very vibrant and alive.
He had never felt something like this before, but it had the touch of a warlock. Powerful… very, very powerful. Older than him and the energy he was receiving wasn't really clear. Each witch, wizard or warlock had his or her own aura. It was shaped by the training they received. Cultural differences showed in it.
This… was like a wild mix of them all.
Nick still looked around and suddenly froze as his eyes fell on a dark-haired man. He appeared to be in his mid to late twenties, with a shock of jet-black hair that fell in a wild tumble. Dressed in casual clothes, he was currently purchasing a cup of something cold from a Starbuck's, smiling at the waitress as he paid. Nick found himself walking closer to the stranger, drawn inexplicably to the power that young man exuded.
What was he?
A paranormal for sure, but what kind? Why did he feel like a warlock? An old one no less! Why was his aura such a jumbled mess?
The young man walked on and Nick followed him before he was even aware of it. Weaving through the people, most of them tourists, he suddenly found himself in a side alley away from the populated places around the hotels and shopping streets.
Nick stopped, questioning his fool idea to go after a virtual stranger who gave off vibes that went off any chart. A stranger who had suddenly disappeared, leaving no trace either physically or paranormally. The alley was empty, except for two large garbage cans and what seemed to be old boxes.
And then he felt it again.
Power.
He whirled around, aware of only the closeness of something that defied definition, and his own powers flared in defense.
Nick gasped as his aura brushed against the other's, felt and 'saw' the unbelievable well of energy. It was crazy, incredible, beautiful, mind-numbing and… centuries old! Power of different cultures whirled inside the source, shaped and tamed, honed and familiar, intermixing…
Eyes, violet in color, gazed at him from across the alley, and Nick found himself rooted to the spot. Centuries old… looking no day older than twenty-eight… and the aura of a man who could snuff out his life at will. His own aura flared to its fullest as instinct overrode his mind.
Before he could make a move, physical or magical, he found himself caught by his throat and thrown up against the hard, concrete wall behind him. Where he had just met violet eyes, he was now looking into golden ones. Golden eyes, a face framed by silvery white hair, the head topped by… pointed ears? Reed gaped at the unusual sight. Claws dug into his delicate neck and Nick lashed out to defend himself. Magic crackled between them, lancing from Nick into the stranger. His attacker snarled and bared his canines as he jumped back. Reed drew in air, raising his hands to attack, when he found himself faced with the dark-haired man with the strange eyes.
"That's not necessary," a calm, dark voice told him. "We're not your enemy."
Nick refused to lower his shields or cut down the magical energy whirling around him. "Who are you?!" he demanded.
The white haired man snarled. "Could ask the same of you!"
Nick's gaze was drawn to the strange appearance once more. Who was this guy? This wasn't a costume!
"You can see us," the dark-haired companion said calmly. "You felt me and you can see him."
"If you mean I can see a pair of pointed ears, white hair and yellow eyes, yes," Nick said cautiously, still not lowering his shields. "Who are you?"
"I apologize for my rudeness. My name is Miroku and this is my partner. You are a magic user, correct? A warlock."
Nick nodded briskly.
"Please, don't worry. We don't mean to hurt you. I was just surprised that you could see me… feel my aura."
"It's hard not to notice."
A fine smile. "You have enough training to pick up what leaks through my normal shields. You're old."
Nick quirked an eyebrow. "Not as old as you."
"True."
"What do you want here?"
Salt Lake had become the melting pot of all kinds of paranormals in the last years and finding a century old magic user and a… whatever he was, wasn't really all that shocking. But someone as powerful as this man didn't come here for the skiing or the sights.
"Business. Mundane business," Miroku added at Nick's quizzical look. "We're here to meet someone."
He dug into his pocket and held out a business card. It showed a circle and underneath the circle the words Shikon Enterprises were printed. The name on the business card was Miroku Takayama. Strange, he didn't look Japanese at all. Neither did the other man.
"It was nice meeting you. I'm sorry we startled you."
With that Miroku turned and started to leave the alley. The white-haired man shot Nick a last look, then gave him a brief smile, and followed the other.
Nick remained behind, staring, completely baffled.
Who were they?

* * *

The sun was just about to set, casting its last rays over the small garden behind the lonely house at the end of a dusty road. The shadows stretched, reaching for the wooden fence, bathing everything in sharp contrast to the sunlight.
Nick Stokes sat on the steps leading from the terrace to the garden, a cup of tea in his hands, studying the peaceful landscape. There was no sound but the slight breeze coming in from the desert and the ever-present chirping of insects. Now and then a bird could be heard.
Relaxing.
Familiar.
Home.
The plane had landed two hours earlier and they had returned home immediately. Grissom was checking in on the lab, getting the latest news before he had to show up for regular hours tomorrow. Nick doubted anything major had happened; Catherine would have called if something had occurred. There was also Ecklie, who had made it a habit to keep Grissom informed of vital changes.
So different than before.
Ever since Conrad Ecklie had found out about the biggest lie in his life and about the world of the paranormal, ever since his year of absence and his subsequent return to Vegas, things had been irrevocably changed. For the better. Nick knew Franklin had something to do with it, but most of the changes had happened inside Ecklie by themselves.
Just like so much had changed for him. First his relationship with Grissom, blossoming from friendship to a solid partnership. He loved the man; he needed him. Then the fact that both of them had been born with very active, paranormal genes… it had been bigger than any other change in his life. Nick hadn't really known what to do with the knowledge, what it meant to be a Sidhe descendent. A very powerful one at that. A Mimic. He had understood Grissom's abilities as a Phoenix, but his own were passive. He attached himself to others, mimicked their talents, and ever since meeting Gil Grissom so many years ago, Nick had mimicked the Phoenix without even knowing it.
Now he knew.
Stokes sighed and drank the last of his cooling tea.
Steps could be heard and Grissom sat down beside him, looking at the younger man from behind his sunglasses.
"Catherine says hi. Nothing happened. Lots of work, but no high priority or politically sensitive cases."
"Good."
Silence fell between them for a while.
"Are you okay, Nick?" Grissom finally asked.
"Yes. No. I don't know," he murmured.
Blue eyes glanced over the rims of the glasses and Nick had to chuckle.
"I'm fine, Gil. I'm okay. No more memories or bad feelings. It's just… I was the Sidhe until we left and I don't know if I still am."
"You are a Sidhe descendent, Nicky. It's what makes you paranormal."
"Yes, the Mimic."
One of the most powerful of paranormals there was because he could be anything, even a warlock.
"But…?" Grissom probed.
"Before Farnham… before the kitsune… I was linked to you, Gil," Nick blurted. "There was something between us. I was a Phoenix because I had latched onto you."
The older man gazed at him, then slipped an arm around Nick's waist and pulled him close. "We're still linked, Nicky. We're still bonded. We're still partners."
Nick inhaled shakily. "But how do I know that what I had with Farnham is over? How do I know I'm me again?"
Gil smiled slightly. "You are the Mimic, Nick. When you're a Phoenix, you're still yourself. When you're the Sidhe, you're yourself."
"You don't understand!" Nick snapped.
Grissom held on tightly to the slender form in his arms, refusing to let him withdraw. "I understand you, Nicky," he said calmly, voice intense. "You want to be with me, and I want you to myself. I'm honest enough to say that I'm that egotistic. I'm selfish, I'm possessive, and I want you to be mine."
"Gil…" Nick whispered, feeling a shiver course through him at the words.
"Caine said everything will go back to normal the moment we're amongst ourselves again. You're used to me as your anchor, Nick. The Mimic will latch onto the Phoenix again."
"When?" he asked plaintively.
Grissom shrugged. "We could have Nandi check you."
Nick actually wanted that. He wanted someone to confirm that the connection to Farnham was broken. The business tycoon was a descent guy. He was likable and handsome, and as much a victim as Nick had been.
"I'll call her," Grissom added, still holding him close and Nick let himself relax into the familiar arms.
"Okay."
Grissom kissed his temple affectionately. "You lost weight," he remarked out of the blue.
Nick snorted, partly with laughter. He knew he had lost weight throughout the days they had been in Salt Lake. It was obvious whenever he put on a pair of his pants or a t-shirt that had fit tightly before. He wasn't underweighted, but a lot slimmer.
"I know," Nick only said.
Grissom kissed him again, then rose and pulled his lover with him. "Just don't lose any more," was all he said as they walked into the house.
"Not planning to."
Nick sought out Gil's lips and hungrily kissed him. Hands slipped underneath his shirt, brushing over his skin and up his ribs, then down his spine again. Nick melted against the sturdier form.
"You think some wild, hot monkey sex will help with the bond?" he murmured huskily.
Grissom's eyebrows shot up. "Wild hot…?"
"Monkey sex," Stokes supplied.
"From a scientific point of view…"
Nick groaned and rolled his eyes. Partly because of the energetic fingers teasing him, partly because of the scientist coming to the forefront again.
"… it's highly likely that a physical coupling will encourage the Mimic to form a bond with the Phoenix again," Gil continued, face straight.
Nick stared at him, then broke out into a chuckle. "I love it when you talk science," he whispered and kissed him more forcefully. "How about we go from theory to the experimental stage?"
Grissom's eyes couldn't hold the serious, straight expression for long and lit up with shared heat. "A very good idea."
"I'll have you know, I only have very good ideas."
"Uh-huh…"
Nick pushed his hips forward, rubbing his groin against his lover's. Grissom's face twitched a little, then he wordlessly maneuvered Nick toward the bedroom.
They didn't bother shutting the door.
There was no one there but them.
And Nick intended to keep it that way.

* * *

Greg Sanders wasn't stupid. Far from it. He was an intelligent young man who not only worked in one of the top crime labs of the country. He was also an ally, someone who knew about the paranormal world and helped wherever he could to keep its existence a secret. He had no powers himself and he thanked all kinds of higher spirits for it. Despite what fantasy novels made of magic and the like, it wasn't all that glamorous and fun. Magic was a fickle thing, highly dangerous and its wielders had to be constantly on their toes. Then there were vampires. Not his kind of thing either. Nearly immortal because of a blood condition, forced to live off blood, and having allergic reactions to the sun. No way. Greg liked the beach, the sun, the surf. He liked the girls and the food, he liked his life. No, being human was fine with him.
And being an ally. It was something special, more so than being paranormal. He had covered a lot of tracks in his life without compromising an investigation or the evidence. It made him proud. When he had been informed of the fact that Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes had turned out to be paranormal as well, he had done everything in his power to help them, too. Actually, unlike his usual ally business helping those two was a regular job. Usually they didn't even take any notice of it, but he knew he was doing good.
Keeping an eye on the unusual, rather rare pair was a daily matter, something he did without conscious thought by now. So it was almost immediately that Greg picked up on the changes.
The call for Grissom to come to Salt Lake as an advisor had been a ruse. Business in Salt Lake always meant business with Ezra Standish, so Greg hadn't been fooled by the official version. A brief call to a friend in Salt Lake had confirmed that something big was going down there. Everyone around Standish was on high alert and Greg kept himself updated. When the news of the kitsune broke through, he had been as dumbstruck as everyone.
A kitsune? Man, things were getting weird. Not just a Phoenix and a Mimic, two of the rarest paranormals known to the allies, but now also something everyone had believed didn't even exist. Sheesh!
And Grissom and Nick had something to do with it. But what?
Greg wasn't about to pry or ask stupid questions. Either someone told him or he would wait. He could be good at waiting. Very good.
When the two men returned, it was business as usual. Both were drawn into new cases immediately. But something was off. Something quite profound.
Grissom was keeping close to Nick, was almost possessive in the way he hung around the younger man. There was an intensity in his eyes when he watched Stokes when he thought no one saw him. There were no outright tell-tale signs of their relationship, like there had barely ever been, but still…
Nick himself had grown quite. And thinner. It was something Greg was starting to notice as the days ticked by. Nick wasn't skinny by a long shot, but his frame had thinned, had grown more wiry than muscular, but he didn't look starved or gaunt in the face. His eyes were still radiating warmth and life, but whenever he looked at Grissom, there was the same intensity that was reflected in the older man's eyes.
Yes, something had happened.
So Greg called his friend in Salt Lake, but all he got was the same he had heard down the grapevine. Whatever it had been that had involved those two, it was kept behind securely locked doors.
Two weeks had passed by now and Greg was getting a bit annoyed. No one was talking to him and poking around the secure channels was of no help. He was the goddamned ally here and if there was a problem, Grissom and Nick should come to him. He was sure this wasn't some kind of lovers' quarrel. They were an item, but they had gone through something groundbreaking.
Walking out of the lab, deep in thought as to how to gain more information, how to help, how to be prepared should something – whatever it was – come down, he nearly ran into another body. Greg stumbled back, about to utter an apology, when a pair of slightly sardonic, dark eyes topped him.
Great. Ecklie.
He wasn't in the mood to talk to the dayshift supervisor, even though the man was a far cry from who he had been before. Ever since coming back from San Francisco, he had turned into a likeable human being – and he had vampire lover to top it. Some things were too fantastic to be true, Greg mused.
"I take it you're calling it a day?" Ecklie asked.
"If you don't mind," Greg replied warily.
There was a lot of the old Ecklie still underneath the more accessible façade, the man who demanded a lot from his team, from the lab, who worked hard, and who had finally unearthed his criminalistic skills from all the political piggy-backing.
"Actually, I do. Care for a drink?"
Greg blinked. Ecklie regarded him steadily.
"We need to talk."
"About what?" he asked suspiciously.
Ecklie shook his head. "Not here."
"Where then?" More suspicion rose.
"The Walkabout."
Whoa! The Walkabout was the bar that belonged to the Shaman Hotel and Casino, a place that wasn't just owned by one Ezra Standish, vampire, and run by Nandi Kidja Kunene, shaman. It was also a place the ensured privacy when it came to talking business of the paranormal kind.
"Uh, okay."
"I'll meet you there."
With that Ecklie turned and walked over to his car. Greg stood dumbfound for a moment, then hurried to his own.

*

The Walkabout was well-visited, by locals and by tourists, but only a few really knew the deeper meaning behind the hotel and the businesses inside. Ecklie had chosen a booth far away from the crowd. He had ordered a beer while Greg only wanted a soda. After their drinks had been delivered, the older man gazed at the lab rat, eyes intense.
"Something happened in Salt Lake," he stated.
Greg nodded. He didn't play the fool. Ecklie was as much part of all of this as he was. With no powers either, he was an ally in the making, someone who knew a lot about things already, but who was still coping with some finer details. His first partner had been a magic user and he had been murdered. His second male partner was a vampire and it gave Ecklie an even deeper insight into the workings of this 'other world'.
"I know," Greg said, playing with a drop of moisture running down his glass. "But everything's rather vague."
Ecklie smiled humorlessly. "Isn't it always? What do you know?"
Greg frowned a little. "Why do you ask?"
"Because Nick and Grissom are my friends," came the immediate reply. No hesitation at all. "Something happened, something changed them. Grissom's more possessive than I ever knew him to be. If this escalates, everything those two have could be blown right out in the open. Either they get it under control by themselves or we have to help them with a few swift kicks."
Greg chuckled slightly. "Good luck." Then he sobered immediately. "Well, I called someone I know in Salt Lake. He said a kitsune surfaced there. He was apparently in a rather bad shape, dying, and that's why they called on Grissom and Nick."
Ecklie frowned. "Kitsune?"
"Fox spirit. Believed to be just a myth. Looks like's real. My friend gave me a detailed run-down. The gist of it is that they're semi-magical creatures, related to Were, and they live off energy and emotions. Looks like this one was starving."
Ecklie nodded thoughtfully. "Anything else?"
"Not much. Just a few rumors that something went wrong, that even though two shamans were there, things got out of hand. No one was killed, but something happened and it affected Nick and Grissom."
Another nod and Greg frowned.
"You know something, right?"
Ecklie smiled slightly. "I'm not an ally."
"But you've got another source of information right at home in the shape of a vampire who isn't all that powerless, right?"
Another smile. "Right."
"So?"
"Franklin called Ezra."
Greg's eyebrows rose abruptly. Right to the center of things, huh?"
"Ezra didn't mention the kitsune, so that was new to me. He only said that Nick's abilities as a Mimic were needed, that things backfired severely, that he was dragged into something that almost destroyed Nick and Gil's relationship…"
Greg tensed slightly. "What happened?"
"Ezra wouldn't say. All Franklin got out of him was that for a while, the Mimic wasn't bonded to the Phoenix."
Greg knew he was staring; gaping, too. For Nick to not mimic the Phoenix it meant he had latched onto something or someone else. It meant he had severed the bond…
"Franklin called in a favor from someone he knows in San Francisco. Word is that the shamans initiated a ritual to feed the kitsune, that it involved Nick's status as a Sidhe, and that whatever happened then, not only separated him from Grissom, it also kept them apart."
Ecklie's expression was intense and Greg was reeling. Something had driven the two men apart, had kept them apart, was connected to a shaman ritual, and it was a big secret. Grissom was possessive of Nick and Nick himself had lost weight.
Shit.
"My thought exactly," Ecklie said mildly.
Apparently Greg had said the last out loud.
"Now what?" Greg asked.
"You're the ally."
Sanders grimaced. "Yeah, right, shove it all onto my platter! It's not like we can just walk up to them and play psychologist!"
"No, but at least we have a rudimentary idea of what's wrong. I think that Nick just recently attached himself to Grissom again, that they're healing. It'll take a while."
Greg gave the other man a narrow-eyed look. "You've been reading up on paranormals?"
Ecklie shrugged. "It helps to understand the weirdness."
"Yeah, it does," the lab rat confessed.
Greg emptied his soda and studied the worn table top.
"So, now what?"
Ecklie regarded him calmly. "We do what we do best, Greg. We keep an eye on them and be there should either one need an open ear."
Greg marveled again at the man before him. So different from before. So much more human.
"Okay," he just answered.
And he would be there. Whenever it happened.

* * *

Nick inhaled deeply, tasting the rain and the fresh air coming down from the mountains. He stretched, feeling muscles protests, bones creek, and his vertebrae popped back into place. Ten hours of grueling lab work had left him with a deep sense of satisfaction of a difficult case solved and the perp behind bars, but also with a bone-deep tiredness.
"Hey," someone called and he turned, smiling at Warrick who walked up to him.
It was just past sunrise, the city was about to go over from the nightly flurry of lights and gambling, into a sunny day of more gambling. Las Vegas never slept. The rain storm had briefly forced everyone to stay inside, but now people were making their way home or to work.
"Hey," Nick replied.
"Wanna grab a bite to eat over at Lui's?"
"Sure."
Lui's was a newly opened restaurant just two blocks down from the precinct and it had already drawn a crowd of regulars, most of them actually criminalists and officers. The food was good, cheap and the coffee was a dream. The variations offered were none too shabby either and Warrick had developed a slight addiciton to Latte Macchiatto, Nick mused with a smile as they set off on foot.
This early in the morning – Lui's was open 24/7 – most of the patrons were nightshift people or the early starters who hadn't had breakfast at home. Warrick and Nick found a table, calling greetings to those they knew, and quickly scanned the menu. After placing the order and getting their coffees, Warrick shot Nick a quizzical look.
"Something wrong?" Nick asked, slightly pertubed.
"Hope not. You okay, man?"
"Yeah, just a bit tired. That last case sure gave us a run for our money."
Warrick chuckled. "Sure did, but it's not what I meant."
"Oh?"
"Ever since your few days off and Grissom's call to Salt Lake City, you guys have been different."
Nick didn't answer, just stirred his coffee. What was he to say?
'Oh, I slept with another guy. Actually he raped me. Well, it was non-consentual at best. Hey, he's a kitsune and he needed the emotional energy freed through sex. Did I mention I'm a Mimic and he triggered the Sidhe in me?'
Warrick had no idea what was really going on and he never would. This was something that ran deeper than two men in love. It was a lot more delicate than a supervisor and his colleague sleeping together.
"Nothing happened, Warrick. It's just been really stressful and there were some difficult times. It's okay now."
But was it? Grissom had been confronted with his partner's actual abilities in the worst possible way, and that Nick had no control over them was no help either. Maybe he should inquire into receiving some training. There had to be a way to steer the Mimic's powers.
"Sure, if you say so."
Their food arrived and for a while, both men were silently eating. Finally Nick looked up and met the still worried gaze. A smile played over his lips.
"Warrick, we're not breaking up, okay? If that's what you're worried about…"
Warrick snorted. "You're grown ups and if you decide it's over, I sure ain't the one to jump in to try and and prove otherwise. It's just… it doesn't look like a fight, right? It looks like something profound happened."
Nick sighed softly and pushed the last piece of bacon around on his platter. "Yes, something profound happened. Something that made us realize just how close we are, Warrick. It's scary…"
Brown smiled a little. "Love always is."
Yes, it is, Nick thought. But this was so much more. Other couples would have broken apart over the events in Salt Lake. He and Gil hadn't. They had grown stronger in a way, but this development was still happening, they were still growing, and right now it was a painful process.
The rest of the breakfast passed quickly with some general chit-chat, a little case discussion, and finally they paid and walked back to the parking lot. Nick said his good-byes to Warrick, who regarde dhim seriously and simply nodded.
In a way it felt good to have friends worry about you, Nick thought as he drove home, but it also complicated matters.
As if his life wasn't complicated enough already.

* * *

Nick walked into the quiet house, listening whether or not his lover was home, but there was no sound. The blinds were closed and little sunlight seeped into the open living room of the first floor apartment that was his. He dropped the keys onto the small table next to the door, stripped off his jacket and hung it onto a hook.
Maybe Grissom had been held up at the lab. Maybe he was already asleep upstairs in his own apartment, though Nick doubted it. Gil wasn't the man to come home and simply fall asleep. So Nick got himself a glass of tab water and went into the bedroom, stripping completely before he entered the shower. He enjoyed the hot water coursing down his body, closing his eyes in the massaging spray.
He finally turned off the water and climbed out of the shower to dry himself off. As he walked back into the bathroom, he was startled to find his lover waiting for him.
"Gil!"
A small smile grazed the beloved features. "Sorry to startle you, Nick. I heard the shower turn off and thought I'd wait here for you."
Blue eyes caressed his body and Nick felt a delicate shiver run through him. In the last two weeks their love-making had been punctuated by this delicacy, by this intense emotion he couldn't name, by this possessive streak both men felt for the other. Nick had been slightly disturbed at first, especially by the depths of what he felt when he was with his lover, when he was close to him, when he touche dhim, kissed him… was near. If this was the reaffirmation process of the Mimic reattaching himself to the Phoenix, it was way more than he could ever have thought. He had never been aware of their first bonding anyway. It had been before they had become lovers, before Grissom had been his supervisor.
Such a long time ago.
Gentle fingers caressing the skin over his stomach made him shudder and he looked into the intense eyes that burned into his soul. Gil had been incredibly sensible lately, so very loving and considerate, as if they were reliving their first time over and over again. They both wanted to forget what had happened, but it would never be. Nick knew what he had done, though the exact memories eluded him, and the knowledge that he had slept with Hugh Farnham would never leave.
Lips ghosted over one bare shoulder and Nick let one hand glide over Grissom's back down to his waist and hip. The lips went up his neck and he sighed appreciatively. He cupped Grissom's head with his other hand and gently maneuvered him to bestow a kiss on those lips.
"Warrick's noticed," he whispered softly.
Grissom nodded. "I figured as much. Catherine asked me a week ago."
Nick let his fingers caress the contours of his lover's face, his eyes never leaving Gil's.
"I can't change the way I feel," Grissom whispered.
"I'm not asking you to."
The gray head rested against Nick's shoulder and arms tightened around the slender waist.
"This is beyond logic, beyond rational thinking," he went on. "It's beyond everything real. I know it, I realize what happened… and I can't but simply feel. It's like an instinct I can't ignore."
Nick was stunned by the words. "Gil…"
A finger on his lips silenced him. "I love you, Nick. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I know it sounds corny, but it's true. You're everything I never knew I needed – and always wanted. Knowing what happened in that room, it set me on edge. Knowing that it severed a link we shared made me… angry."
And it had scared the shit out of Nick. Not because it meant he was as mortal as everyone. Without the Phoenix powers, he couldn’t regenerate from most fatal injuries.  No, it had been on a level that Grissom had called instinct. Nick didn't care what he mimicked, what Grissom was, but being forced to become what Farnham needed… through a non-consentual physical act… it had shattered something that was just now about to heal.
He cupped his lover's face and kissed him deeply. "I love you, Gil. We'll see this through."
Again. So much had alredy happened and somehow Nick knew it hadn't been the last test for them, for their relationship.
It was so laughable, he thought. In the beginning he had thought their greatest enemy were the homophobics, the colleagues and friends who didn't understand, but it had turned out that the world of the paranormal had had a much greater impact on them. The fear to be shunned and called names by others had made way to the dread of what was in stow for them when it came to the paranormal.
"As always," Grissom whispered.
They ended up in bed together, snuggled together, kissing lazily, hands caressing the other's body.

* * *

Siobhan McGregor walked into the office of the CEO of Farnham Corporation, refusing to be impressed by the simplistic display of money and wealth. She had worked for Farnham for six years by now, without ever seeing the man in whose name she arranged business deals. All her papers were signed, all contracts mailed to her, all memos answered, but like most of her colleagues she had never laid eyes on the head of the international company. Farnham was rumored to be an eccentric. Some called him an oddball, others a screwball, and the some used even worse description. To Siobhan it had never mattered whether the man was a genius, a saint or a mad man. He paid her enough to do her work. That was all that counted.
That he was suddenly very actively involved in business matters had shocked several people. For years, Farnham had worked through his company managers, had sent stand-ins for meetings, had attended only the most important of conferences in person – never one where Siobhan had had to be -- but now he had come out of hiding, so to speak.
Currently, his biggest interest was the deal with Shikon Enterprises in Japan, closely followed by something new that involved a smaller business in Salt Lake City and a man called Ezra Standish. Siobhan wasn't sure what that was, but she had been requested to bring the necessary contract files for Shikon Enterprises in person.
Apparently Farnham wanted to go over them – with her.
Siobhan was too much a professional to show her surprise and confusion to the outside. Her position as one of the top company lawyers hadn't come from falling apart at the slightest breeze from upstairs. She was a tough nut to crack, as one of her secretaries had once remarked. To impress her, people had to work hard.
So far, Farnham hadn't done anything to warrant any unease or unfound apprehension. He was a man like everyone else; her boss, yes, but not a god.
"Ms. McGregor, I'm glad you could come."
The voice was younger than she would have expected and the face didn't match her idea of what and who Hugh Farnham was. Looking no older than maybe mid-thirties, long, wavy brown hair falling freely over his shoulders, dressed in a casual, knitted pullover, she wouldn't have looked at him twice if she had passed him in the corridor. The face was open, pleasant, with laugh lines around the eyes and mouth.
Farnham held out a hand. "I never met you before, but I've always been impressed by your knack for getting the Corporation what it needed."
"It's my job, Mr. Farnham," Siobhan replied and took the offered hand.
Something sparked.
Something reached out to her, hungrily wrapping itself around her body and soul. It purred with delight, with approval, and with happiness. She felt its warmth, its very presence everywhere, and for a second she saw it center right where Farnham was.
Then the sensation was gone and she found she was staring at the man – who was also staring back. And then the polite smile slid over the suntanned features again.
"Shall we?" he said, voice calm as if nothing had happened.
Siobhan pulled herself together. Whatever that had been… it was gone. It had probably never happened. Maybe she shouldn't have had that egg sandwich for lunch.
Walking into the conference room, she turned her thoughts to the meeting ahead of her.