Title: Immortal
Author: Emo Barbie
Pairing: Warrick/Nick
Rating: K
Summary: There both one-person views: the first it Warrick on Nick's captivity under ground and the second it Nick after Warrick's death and how he dealt with it.
Disclaimer: I own neither CSI or it's characters, I merrly love typing sudden ideas that come into my head.
Extra: The idea for this fanfic was contributed by alexandracf and her youtube video: grave danger: Immortal thanxs from Emo barbie's mind
Sorry if it seems a bit songfic ish the song was just too well written to leave it out.
Immortal
Warrick:
It was a feeling of complete loss. That was all I felt as I watched Nick on that screen. The gun held up to his throat by his own hands, the trigger being pulled, the lights going out. My heart stopped. That very moment was burned into my memory. His face haunted my dreams...no they were the farthest thing from dreams, they couldn't even be called Nightmares.
I had always been there for Nick, always. I had been there when he cried almost ever night. I had been there to wipe away those tears that cascaded down his cheeks in the darkness of the night, when work finally hit him a little too hard. Cause none of us really left work back at the station. It was carried home with us, in our hearts, in our heads, it was always there. And I had made sure to always be there when he needed me.
But when he was in that box, the only thing I could do was grip the table, I gripped it so hard I was pretty my fingers were going to snap under the weight. I'm certain that my finger prints are still embedded in that wood, forever memorizing that moment in reality.
Maybe it was just me. Maybe I was the only one who was affected so much. Maybe it was because I was always there for him, all those times when he screamed at night after those horrible nights of being stalked. After everything. I was always there to scare those fears away...through all those years of working together, it had always been me who had held his hand.
Whenever they had opened that box, I hadn't cared about the tones of Dynamite beneath him, hell I would have killed myself to hold him in my arms at that moment. But I knew I couldn't. No, what held my back was that I would kill Nicky too, and all this searching, this pain...this sorrow, would be a waste. Because in the end, he would have ended up the same got to me the most out there was that it was Grissom who was the one who was there for him. He was the one who had calmed him down in the box, was the one who saved him in the end. That was my job. It was what I had always done, and the time that Nick needed me most, the time he really needed me to be there, it was Grissom who was there instead. I couldn't handle that.
I couldn't handle it being anyone but me, so I was sure to be the first one into the ambulance, I was sure to look him in the eyes and let him know that I have never left him. I had been going through this just as he had. He had never been alone. And in the end as the doors closed he grasped my hand, and he held on so tight, even as we made it to the hospital and his consciousness was fading, in the end he still managed to hold on to me. And as I watched him sleep in that hospital bed, as I waited for him to wake back up, Grissom's words kept echoing in my head. Words that at the time seemed mundane on the field, but after the events seemed so much more preeminent.
"It seemed to be those very intense moments, when thing are either going wonderfully well or terribly wrong, that we get the clearest picture of the people we know. A lot of what we remember of people comes from those specific moments that are vivid in our minds. It's what we discover about those people's pain or kindness, or fear...or even courage. In moment like those, people show us who they are...and we we may one day become."
Because he was right. All of us eventually fall victim to the cruelties of this world. And if one day it were him on the end of those cruelties would he break too? Would you fall victim to them? Enough to want to take his own life? And if so...what would happen to Nick?
-
Nick:
Warrick had always been there for me. Always. When I was thrown through that window. When I was stalked by that one guy, even when I was rescued from that hell hole of a box. He had always been there. It was what I loved about him. The way he kissed my tears from my eyes or how he could shush my sobs away as he rocked me back and fourth, holding me like I was some sort of fragile glass doll. Like I could shatter at any moment. It was what I feel in love with...So when I had heard the news, I didn't believe it. It couldn't, wouldn't happen, because I never once thought he would be taken from me. Never...but in the end...he was.
I'm so god damn of this life, now. Without Warrick there is nothing left for me here. It's not fair, it should have been me. I shouldn't been dead long before he would have ever saw an end. Warrick was a hero, he was a good man...he was my everything. What do I have left? These memories that won't leave me alone? These wounds that refuse to heal, and this pain...
I remembered getting to the scene. I had heard the call about a fellow CSI being shot and killed. But the first thing I had though was Greg, that one of those stupid gang members had finally hunted him down. That was what I had expected to see when I had came to the scene. It's what I wanted so badly to see now, though I'd never wish death to Greg...I really wish that it had been him. Not that car that I saw. That all too familiar car. The car that so many nights I had spent in with Warrick, just the two of us, talking, kissing, drunk and singing to loudly to our favorite songs as they blasted on the radio. But that car been tapped off, and sitting in the drivers seat was the one man I loved. It shouldn't have been him.
I didn't know what to do. My mind went blank, and I guess I probably did what every other family member does...it was horrible being on that other side of the tape. I tried to race to the car, screaming as I did so, but I was held back by a strong force, a force I would later recognize as the tight hold of two officers. But at that moment I didn't care, I was too focused on the body on the ground. That I was sure if I saw it, it wouldn't be him. That it was all just a misunderstanding.
My knees gave way, and I remembered the shark pang of pain, but it was quickly consumed by my agony. I tried tearing at the bonds around me, trying to push away what held me back, but I never fully broke free. I must have looked like a raging maniac, because every time I began to break through the force became stronger and stronger until finally I couldn't move at all...I remember finally coming out of the panic, as my mind finally began to register my surroundings, as my eyes finally left the car to see the face that stood in front of me, officially moving to block my view completely. His voice breaking through the silence my mind had created.
"Nick, Nick!" Grissom.
Grissom and all that damn blood.
I remember letting out a loud howl before collapsing fully, the officers finally releasing their hold as I fell into Grissom, who readily accepted me, despite his condition, wrapping his arms around my body. That was the last thing I remembered, bowling a blood soaked shirt before I blacked out. Or maybe went into full blown shock. Either way I remember nothing after. Not how I left the scene, not how I got home. Just...finally looking around and realizing where I was.
I spent most of my time alone in our room. Trying to empty my mind of every thought, to forget where I was, and even who I was. To forget what had been Nick Stock's life, and what had been Warrick Brown.
Catherine had come by once or twice a week to check on me, she tried to talk to me, tried to get me to respond, to talk to her...but in the end my misery was too deep to speak anymore. All I could was sit in that darkness and think, think...think and remember. It was a plaque, a disease that kept eating away at my mind when I wanted was for it leave. To forget. But my mind wouldn't let me.
Finally, now, after all this time, after months and months of therapy and counseling, after years of isolation, even now the pains still there. Every time I close my eyes I see his face. I see the last smile he gave me before leaving that shop, and to think I could have stopped him. I could have went with him...no, instead I had stayed to chat with the girl. It wasn't like I was cheating on Warrick, Warrick knew what I was doing, hell it had been his idea. Warrick had always encouraged it, like he saw our relationship ending, even though I never could. Maybe Warrick had some idea that he would die...that eventually he wouldn't be there. He tried to get me to talk to woman more freely, but in the end...it was all a waste of time. Time that I could have been spending with Warrick.
Every morning I would wake up, everything I had been thinking about...forgotten, it was hard to remember in the haze of the morning. I'd forget who I was, forget what was missing, for a single moment, I could dwell in life just existing. I wanted to break out crying from stabs of hopeless joy, or intolerable promises, because these mornings were too full of beauty for me, because I knew too much of the pain, suffering and lost that was contained in a world like this. The cruelties of reality.
In the end, I wish...I just really wish that when someone died they took everything with them. I wish their weren't these stupid things called memories, his presences that still lingers here, his clothes...his scent that suddenly waffes up from a long forgotten piece of clothing I stumble upon in the closet. I'm tired of being of here. I'm tired of all these things that haunt me, because...in the end, there's just these things that time can't erase. Even though I keep telling myself that he's still here, with me, in my memories, in the things that he left behind...I still feel so...alone.