Title: Home
Author: Onthnis
Rating: PG
Pairing: Grissom/Nick/Warrick friendship
Disclaimers: I just wanted to play with "the boys". I didn't hurt anybody and I will put them back when I am done.
Spoilers: Geez...Grave Danger for sure..let's just say season 1-5 and call it even, huh?
Summary: How can you feel so lost in a room filled with people? Nick leaves Las Vegas to help him recover from the events after Grave Danger.
Author's notes: So, there I was, minding my own business listening to music and catching up on my reading. Suddenly, this song played by Michael Buble (that I believe he also wrote) called "Home". I had never heard the song before but it just grabbed me. For some reason it made me think of Nick. Out of nowhere this vicious plot bunny bit me right in the ankle. Once it had me it wouldn't let me go either. Trying to ignore it, I turned off my computer and went about my daily activities. Later, I sat back down at the computer and damn if that bunny didn't start munching at my ankle again. I've written in other fandoms before but never CSI. So...this is what happens when plot bunnies attack.
"Housekeeping" a female voice lilted through the closed door. Soon after a quick knock could be heard as the busy maid rushed through her hectic day. Another knock followed and the click of the lock of the hotel room door could be heard as the woman once again announced herself. "Housekeeping."
Letting out a quick sigh of frustration and embarrassment the tired man rubbed his eyes as he rose from the bed and mumbled out what most likely was the words "Can you come back later." The maid lowered her gaze and gave a half smile with a muttered apology as she nodded her acknowledgment and headed back to her cleaning cart, the door shutting quickly behind her.
The dark haired man quickly grabbed a t-shirt from the chair next to the bed and wandered into the bathroom. A few minutes later he found himself back in the room and looking out the window of his lonely hotel room. It was a beautiful day outside and the view was breathtaking. The scene outside his window a perfect picture postcard.
Waves from the Pacific Ocean beat down on the cliffs below. Surfers were jockeying for position on the near perfect wave breaks and joggers were skirting the coastline as they too drank in the sweet salty summer air.
Running a hand through his hair, Nick Stokes leaned into the window and rested his head on the cool glass. The coolness of the glass only served to remind him more of the emptiness that pitted itself square in his gut. The emptiness was not of hunger but an intense and sharp pang of loneliness he could never remember feeling in his life.
Snorting a quick chuckle at the realization that even if he could be in a football stadium filled with people nothing could budge the hopeless feeling gnawing painfully at him.
Shaking himself out his sad reverie the dark haired man wandered back into the bathroom to shower. Hoping the heat and steam of the shower would somehow bring him back to the old Nick he missed. The Nick that hadn't been damaged by the turmoil and events that somehow seemed to follow the young man like a haunting shadow.
Somehow, the pelting water droplets managed to, if not for a few minutes at least, draw him out of his depressive mood and quickly he found himself dried and dressed and somewhat ready for the day ahead. Whatever that was supposed to be.
It had been three weeks since the dark haired man had somehow found his way to this ocean filled view. It was actually all quite by accident. Somehow he had managed to get on the I-15 and soon found himself heading southbound. Before he knew it he was skirting the San Bernardino foothills in California. Within hours, signs were welcoming him into the San Diego County City limits. Stopping himself before the I-15 merged into the I-5 taking him into Tijuana, Mexico, Nick managed to somehow find himself in a small hotel room in La Jolla.
Everyday, for the last three weeks, he would wander the quaint communities making up the vast city and revel in the thought that there was not a soul in the world that had any clue as to the location of Nick Stokes. At times, it was almost like a giddy alcoholic feeling knowing that he was truly on his own. It was such a feeling of freedom. Other times, the pain of having ripped himself away from not only his blood family but his surrogate Las Vegas family made up of such an eclectic and unlikely group of people gnawed at his guts like a blender powered up on a puree setting. But, this was something he needed and had to do.
His life. The life he was leading in Las Vegas was stifling. In all reality, it was physically suffocating the young man and his only recourse was to beat it and not look back. But, could he really do that? After all, this was Nicholas Stokes we were talking about. Mr. Dependable. Mr. Reliable. As Nick drove through the busy freeways taking in the beautiful summer day, he laughed to himself. Am I a man or am I a Chevy? When had his life become so predictable? When had he become this man? Or had he always been this way and just never really thought to care about it much. Whatever it was, it didn't matter now. He was in a whole new city. Nobody knew him. He could be anyone he wanted. But, did he have the guts to change? Or was he happy being the same old Nick everyone had come to look to and rely on for so long.
Raking a quick hand through his short hair he snapped himself away from the burden of thoughts plaguing his brain. The Texan smiled to himself "Stokes, you need to stop over analyzing and enjoy." With that statement, he guided his SUV into the cramped parking space in the booming mall and decided to just lose himself in the mass of human bodies.
Gil Grissom strode purposefully across the lab, an ever-present scowl on his normally passive face
"Greg, where is the ballistics report from the Matheson case?"
The ex-lab tech looked up quickly, not having heard the silent entrance of his cranky supervisor. Before he could he could even manage a sentence, the supervisor chimed in "I don't want excuses, just the report. Leave it on my desk before you leave."
Before the young man had a chance to answer or even defend himself. Hurricane Grissom was gone.
Letting out a frustrated sigh and looking to make sure the older man was really gone and not just lurking in a shadow readying himself for Grissom versus Sanders (the rematch). Greg quickly found the offending report and deftly maneuvered himself into the doorway of Grissom's office, ever on the lookout for the foul tempered supervisor.
The last few weeks in the lab had been the most intense the blonde haired man had ever endured. Of course the entire office had been still reeling from the abduction and subsequent recovery of Nick Stokes only a month and a half prior. But, that had only been the beginning of the drama that had somehow unfolded in the middle of the hectic lab. Greg still wasn't sure what had happened. He only knew that Grissom was on some kind of one-man terror and one of his close friends had vanished without a trace.
That very fact seemed so astonishing considering they were a crime lab. Certainly they should have the wherewithal and ability to find one man. It didn't seem an impossible task. But, here they were, three weeks to the day. No sign of Nick at all. Even more astonishing. Not even a trace of where he may have gone.
Greg placed the report into his supervisors in-bin and managed to sneak out of the office and slink into his waiting car. Would life ever be the same again? Would they ever find Nick again? Gritting his teeth in spite of the overwhelming emotions threatening to take over, he put his car in reverse and maneuvered his car out of the lab parking lot.