The rain woke him up which surprised him because it was not a heavy rain. The drops were steady on the roof and windows but nothing worth dragging himself awake for. When he adjusted to the semi darkness of the room, he noticed something worth waking up for; her. She had this habit of either moving restlessly all night in her sleep or settling in one place on the bed and never leaving it. Last night seemed to be a mixture of both. He recalled waking up with her facing the other side of the room, blankets drawn up around her like a protective nest. He enjoyed the moment of sleeplessness where he had to reach for her, guiding her back to him, holding her extra tight so she knew it was him and not the monster in their closet, which she insisted was there even though they had Sam to protect them, and they were both grown adults with weapons.
This moment of being awake while she was asleep was becoming a common occurrence in their lives. If he arrived late to Vegas from San Diego, she was almost always asleep when he got home. Despite her insistence that she could wait for him, exhaustion overtook her, and he would find her in bed like this, sometimes with a book left open that had slipped from her hands as she slept, or with the TV on, the remote lost somewhere in the blankets. He started to make a game out of it, taking guesses as to where she would fall asleep, and with what distractions around her; book, TV, cell phone. No matter what he stumbled upon, she was guaranteed to make him melt. She had signed him up to a lifetime subscription of Adorable, featuring her.
On the rare occasions that she managed to stay awake before he arrived, she was usually on the verge of falling asleep. One recent night, he found himself shivering as he entered the house, noticing she had forgotten to turn the heat on. Vegas could get cold too, as they both sometimes forgot. She was the keeper of the covers though, so it was no surprise she feigned off the chilly house by simply burying herself in more blankets. When he crawled into bed with her, his instinct was to immediately pull her close to him for warmth. She heard him moving around the house but was too lazy to get out of bed. She knew he would find his way to her eventually and when she heard the door creak open and felt the bed move as he climbed in beside her, she smiled. Having him home was the nicest feeling. The house was freezing, she knew she had forgotten about the heat, so naturally when she felt him slide his arms around her under the covers, she smiled, happy to share the warm cozy bed with him. When she felt his icy cold hands slide under her shirt and come to rest on her stomach, she just about jumped right out of the bed. The shock of cold on her bare skin made her breathe in sharply, then try to squirm out of his embrace. But he wasn't letting her go that easily, she was too warm, and after the cold voyage through the house to get to her, she owed him some of that warmth. When she could no longer stand it, she turned over to greet him properly, murmuring a sleepy "Stop it".
"You started it," he reminded her "it's freezing in here."
"So, I forgot to turn the heat on, big deal," she scoffed "you were late mister."
"What ever shall I do to earn your forgiveness?" he teased.
"That's easy," she said, uncurling her arms from the blankets to reach up and pull him in for a kiss.
They waited weeks for moments like this, simple everyday habits like kisses and nights together. With his hands still resting on her stomach though, she couldn't help but giggle through the kisses, complaining about being ticklish and how he knew that and must have done this on purpose. They stayed like that for the rest of the night.
He got lost in that memory, one of his favorites, as he continued to watch over her in the present moment, wondering what he did to deserve someone this amazing in his life. Why had it taken so long? Sure, it was worth the wait but part of him wished he could have met her sooner somehow. Just thinking of all the time, they could have had if they had met when they were younger created a weird feeling of agitation and regret over a situation they had no control over. He still got upset with people who told him things like "it's never too late to find love" or "you're never too old to have a family" but he was. He was limited in his time with her, limited in the moments they had, time crushing them with each passing day. It was completely unlike the moments he spent buried in that box underground. There he had been trapped physically and emotionally, unable to see a future or a past when, in his mind, it was hopeless. No one was coming to rescue him, and by the time they did, the damage was already done. In his wandering state, he didn't realize he had been holding her a bit too tight because she started to move away in protest. The residual anger he had towards all the negative moments in his life still snuck up on him in times like this. He didn't want to burden her with these thoughts, which is why he tended to save them for early mornings or late nights or when he was alone in his condo.
Almost as if she could sense his agitation, she stirred in his arms, waking up, seeing that it was practically morning, then promptly burying her face in his shoulder and drawing the covers almost completely up over her head. He smirked, casually brushing her hair and whispering, "Rough night?"
"It's raining," she replied which was not an answer or a complaint, just a fact she wanted to state.
"Yeah," he confirmed "you know what that means."
"Lazy day," she chanted hoarsely, flinging the covers away from her face and stretching her arms out so he could embrace her.
Her silly, sleepy grin made him smile and tousle her hair before cuddling her, being as close to each other as physically possible. They lay in silence for a few minutes, listening to the gentle tapping on the windows from the rain, knowing how rare it was to get rain in Vegas but appreciating what it did for their lazy moods. Moments like this reminded her of those first few days at home after being released from the hospital after her coma. All the strength she could muster back then allowed her to turn over in bed to lay with him, switching sides throughout the day and night. She never knew what time it was except when he brought her food and made her sit up in bed to eat it which she hated because it took away from her sleeping time. Despite her inconsistent moods back then, she was grateful for his help. Thinking back on it now, she couldn't remember if she ever properly thanked him for his support.
"Nicky?" she whispered now "can I ask you something?"
"Anything sweetness," he encouraged her gently.
"Do you ever think about things you could change?" she voiced her concern carefully "you know, like things that happened in your life and what would have happened if you could have changed them?"
"All the time," he answered her back right away which surprised her but made him think she had picked up on his mood from earlier, making them both in tune with each other.
"What would you change?" she asked boldly.
He sighed, thinking of all the obvious answers.
"Stuff in high school," he recited first "outcomes of some of my cases here and in San Diego, losing Warrick."
He felt her tense up beside him at the mention of Warrick. She lay her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, an affection she did often when he was upset.
"The whole buried alive thing," he continued "wish I could have avoided that mess, been smarter, been more aware of the scene around me."
"None of that was your fault," she insisted.
"I know," he said, "but it still gets to me, I was thinking of that when you were asleep, I don't know why, it just hit me you know?"
She nodded, reached up, and pushed her hair back to reveal the scar on her forehead from the attack three years ago.
"This is what I would change," she said without prompting "every single second of it, I never should have talked to Shaw or let Russell re-open the case or gone home that night with those stupid files on the table, my back to the door, I let my guard down and it cost me."
"Russell re-opening the case saved your life," he reminded her of the car bomb on that hot September day.
She shrugged, unsure if that were true. Had she died back then, it would have been game over, Gig Harbor would have won. But he liked games, so taunting her for those months had been his plan all along regardless of Russell's answer that day.
Silence fell between them as the mulled over those thoughts and "what ifs?" in their heads. Trauma and terrifying events was what they shared most between them, but she wondered about something else.
"I wish we could have met sooner," she whispered, being careful because she knew of the events that led to her being part of the team in Vegas.
"We could have crossed paths at any of those forensic conferences," she continued when she felt safe to do so "our bosses could have reached out to each other sooner for consultations, can you imagine?"
He could. He let his mind wander to those old conferences he went to, usually with Warrick, on Grissom's orders. They always found a way to hit up the bars and restaurants when the conferences and demos were over. In fact, based on her love for going out, he was surprised he didn't run into her prior to Russell hiring her. Her unmistakable curls would have stood out in any crowd. Her infectious laugh and bubbly personality would have melted him instantly. He closed his eyes, thinking back to the conferences, secretly hoping he would recall her bright eyes and tender smile. It made his heart beat a little faster.
But a second terrible thought invaded his mind now and he couldn't shake it.
"I should have killed him," Nick said now, and she lifted her head to stare at him in shock.
"Who?" she demanded to know.
"McKeen," he uttered, hating the name, hating that he tainted their morning just by thinking about the man.
But he forgot, she didn't know that part of the story and when she pierced him with a confused look, he had no choice but to explain.
"We chased him," Nick said "he tried to run after we caught on to him for murdering Warrick, we chased him into the woods off the highway, he was going to Mexico the bastard, he flipped his car and got out, I found him hurt in the middle of nowhere, a chopper was on the way, I was alone with him and my gun, and I- I didn't do it, Brass saw me and I just, I couldn't do it, I don't know why because I should have taken him out right there and he never would have hurt another soul."
"Nicky," she whispered, horrified for him and what he endured "you caught him, he's rotting in jail, that's what matters."
"Yeah but think about it," he continued "McKeen ordered that hit on Ecklie and had Russell's granddaughter kidnapped and then you-
He paused, realizing she had gotten hurt that year because of McKeen. McKeen ordered Crenshaw to carry out those heinous acts and lure Julie into the trap with Katie. Not only did McKeen take Warrick away from them but he almost got Julie too. Now he really hated himself.
"Don't," she begged him, seeing the change in his face as he thought about what happened. They had taken this discussion too far and she didn't want to hurt him.
"I'm sorry," she cried "I shouldn't have said anything, please don't think about it anymore, please?"
She tugged on his arm and that bumped him back to reality. He saw the concern in her eyes and the tears, so he tried to shut out the bad thoughts as quickly as possible for both their sake.
"It's okay," he soothed her, running his fingers through her hair "we just got carried away that's all, no harm done."
She felt him tighten his arms around her, the thought of losing her at McKeen's hands still too much to bear. She fell silent, snuggling against him as a silent apology and comfort. As unhealthy of a coping mechanism their conversation was, he was grateful to have her to talk to about those things instead of succumbing to a therapist or worse, never saying anything to anyone. She was his saving grace, pulling him out from the darkness that had surrounded him for years and even if a new painful thought from his past creeped into his mind, she had her way of bringing him back to life.