Title: Please Don't Regret Me
Summary: Vartann and Greg talk at the hospital after Catherine is shot.
Spoilers: Miss Willows Regrets
Rating: T
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Pairing: implied Greg/Nick, Vartann/Catherine
Author's Note: This is a post-ep for 'Miss Willows Regrets' set at the hospital after Catherine is shot. This spawned from how sad I was after the episode. Poor Vartann =( Suchaayy sweetheart! And poor McQuaid too! And Catherine! Oh god it was too much! Only my babies Greg and Nick had a good time during the episode =(
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. If I did, poor Vartann wouldn't have gotten his heart broken =(
"Hey."
Vartann looked up at the greeting, and stood, stepping forwards to shake Greg's hand. The young CSI shifted uncomfortably, looking around at the empty waiting room.
"Where are the others?"
"Nick, Sara and Russell are in there," Vartann gestured towards the hospital room behind him. "She's going to be okay."
Greg smiled half-heartedly. "Not really." He sighed into the words.
Greg collapsed into one of the chairs lining the wall and Vartann sat next to him. Eight hours at Catherine's house processing it. Greg thought about the shattered picture he found of Catherine and Lindsay. In evidence storage.
Fucking hell.
He rubbed his face in his hands and spoke from between his fingers. "You're not in there with her."
"No."
"Greg glanced up at Vartann, but the detective's gaze remained facing forward. Greg stared at his feet.
"Have you spoken to Nick?"
Greg wished Vartann wouldn't use his love life to distract himself from his own.
"Not since last night when I told him what happened." Greg hesitated. "Is he okay?"
"Yeah," Vartann replied, his voice gruffly but soothing nonetheless.
"What about Cath?"
"I told you already," Vartann replied impatiently. "The wound-"
"No. I mean before that."
Vartann looked away and shrugged. His shoulders were too tense for the motion, and the odd jerk aggravated Greg's already sour mood. "Well, her friend just died, and... Agent McQuaid," he ignored the concerned look Greg sent him. "And you know Catherine, she'll never..." He shook his head. "I don't know. Forget it."
Greg rubbed the back of his neck. "A lot of people have screwed her over." The excuse sounded flimsy even to his own ears.
"I know," Vartann said bluntly. "I just wish she'd believe that I'm not going to."
Greg sighed, grimacing. "You should still go see her." Anger bubble in his stomach, and he was too exhausted to control it. He found himself judging Vartann for something he didn't have the right to.
"She resigned, Sanders."
Greg barked out a laugh, his anger rising and battling with the shock that rocked through him. "She just got shot, Vartann! You can't take her seriously! She—"
"She resigned before the shootout."
Greg froze midsentence, his heart dropping into his stomach. The anger drained away as quickly as it came and a weight settled in his chest.
"She didn't even mention it. Russell told me."
"Lou, she—you know it's wasn't about y—"
Greg's words died on his lips, and he cursed his own stupidity. He wanted to wipe Lou's tight-lipped frown off his face.
He tried to imagine Nick just quitting and leaving without a word.
Of course this wasn't about Vartann. It never was. And that's what hurt.
'Fuck.'
'Yeah," Vartann paused, looking Greg in the eye. "She liked him didn't she? I wasn't just imagining it."
Greg didn't have the heart to do anything but nod.
A silence descended over them, and the weight of the situation crashed down onto them. It was too much.
"Just because she..." Greg began haltingly. "It-it doesn't mean she doesn't care about you."
"I know."
"She'd want to see you."
"No. She's wouldn't mind seeing me."
The implication fell heavy on Greg's chest, and he looked away, unable to meet Vartann's gaze.
"I don't think it's me she wants to see, Greg."
"Lou—"
"Greg," Vartann shook his head. "Just forget it. Nick will want to see you."
The words made Greg cringe, and Vartann smiled apologetically. Greg closed his eyes against the ache in his chest.
"Nick will see me at home."
Vartann didn't argue. Greg tilted his head back against the wall, crossing his left ankle over his right knee. They sat in comfortable, but melancholic silence.
They settled down to wait, both with the sensation that whatever they were waiting for wasn't coming.