Summary: Nick sees the sheriff shoot Warrick and has to make a split second decision. What will his decison mean for Warrick, and for him? Does he make the right choice?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Warning: Violence and language.
Nick Stokes was no stranger to the sound of gunshots. He had heard them almost every day at work from Bobby Dawson test firing weapons in his lab. He had heard them his whole childhood when he had gone hunting with his father, brother and cousins. He had even fired guns himself before, every CSI had. He had heard gunshots before, but they had never sounded like this. Maybe it was because he was looking directly at the gun when it happened. Maybe it was because he wasn't expecting it and it shocked him at the same time he had heard it. Or maybe it was because the gunshots had come from the gun that was pointed into the driver's seat of his best friend's car.
Warrick Brown had told Nick to get their waitress' number, and Nick had actually considered it. He hadn't dated in a while, and had been thinking about doing so. He had been waiting for the young redhead to return when he decided that he had better make sure Warrick was really okay. His friend had seemed fine when they were all at breakfast, but Nick knew that Warrick was good at lying, especially when it came to his feelings.
So Nick left the diner shortly after Warrick, hoping to catch him but not expecting it. He was planning more on having to call his friend than actually getting to talk to him face to face again. Warrick had left a few minutes before Nick, which was why the Texan was so surprised to see that Warrick's car was still parked in the alley way.
Nick started to walk up to the car when he saw someone talking through the passenger side window. Nick stopped and stood still, watching from about twenty yards away. It was dark in the alley, the only lights coming from Warrick's tailights and headlights and the interior lights. Nick could vaguely make out Warrick's figure in the driver's side. He was facing whoever he was talking to, who Nick hadn't gotten a good look at it.
Afraid that it was one of Gedda's guys, Nick took a few silent steps forward to get a closer look. Nick was expecting a gangster to be talking to Warrick, or Grissom or Catherine, maybe even Brass or Greg. He had been expecting someone that would make sense to be there. He was expecting it to be anyone than who it was. Nick couldn't think of why undersheriff McKeen would be talking to Warrick in the middle of an alley outside the diner the team had had breakfast at. Nick was relieved at first that it wasn't someone dangerous, but Nick was wrong. His stomach dropped when he saw McKeen draw his gun, and in one fluent motion aim it at Warrick and pull the trigger.
That gunshot was the loudest Nick had ever heard, and he wasn't that close to the gun. It rang out and pounded into his ear drums, causing him to jump as the window of Warrick's car shattered. His breath caught in his throat and all of his muscles froze. Then the next gunshot rang out, but that sound was muffled to him, as if he was going deaf. Nick's legs started shaking as he stumbled backwards against the wall, but didn't make a sound. He stood flat against the cold brick, hidden in the shadows of the alley. He watched as McKeen wiped off the gun and tossed it onto the passenger's seat of Warrick's car through the open window.
Nick counted the sheriff's steps from the car until he passed him. Nineteen steps, and the sheriff was past Nick. He hadn't even seen him. Nick was aware that he wasn't breathing, but he didn't care. The sheriff rounded the corner out of the alley. He was getting away. Nick didn't know whether to go tackle him and beat him until he couldn't move, or try to help Warrick.
Warrick could still be alive. If Nick got to him in time, maybe he would be okay. Maybe it wasn't fatal. Nick could help him.
But if Nick helped Warrick, the sheriff could get away.
But if Nick chased the sheriff, Warrick could die.
It was a split second decision. Nick made it without hesitation or thinking twice. He took off, running as fast as he could to Warrick's car. His heart was pouding in his ears and his feet on the pavement. He didn't care if the sheriff heard him and came back. He was hoping he would so he could kill two birds with one stone.
Okay, poor choice of words, Nick thought to himself.
Nick stopped on a dime outside of Warrick's car. He threw the door open and knelt down beside his friend, ignoring the shards of glass slicing through his jeans into his skin. Warrick was hunched up on the steering wheel, blood pouring from his chest and neck. Nick quickly tore off his shirt and ripped it in two, tying one piece around Warrick's neck tight enough to stop the bleeding but loose enough so he could still breathe and pressed the other against the wound on his chest. He moved Warrick slightly so he could hold the shirt against his bleeding chest tighter, but he didn't want to move him too much.
Nick was unaware of the fact that his t-shirt that he had been wearing under his longsleeved one was already stained with Warrick's blood. He had pulled Warrick against him to keep him steady and try to prevent him from going into shock. Nick fumbled for his cell phone and quickly dialed 911, barking at the operator to get an ambulance there now. Nick didn't remember doing that or calling Grissom and telling him that Warrick had been shot in the alley. All Nick could remember was kneeling there next to Warrick, trying his best to keep his friend from dying.
"Stay with me man," Nick pleaded. "You're gonna be okay Warrick, just hang in there. The ambulance is on its way."
Warrick gripped a handful of Nick's t-shirt, adding more blood to it. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it in obvious pain. He didn't have enough breath to say anything, but he was trying his hardest to be able to.
"Don't say anything, just stay calm," Nick said, contradicting how he was feeling at the moment. "You're gonna be okay."
Warrick shook his head slightly as blood began to fill his mouth. "Mih-key-nn." he choked out in painful chunks.
"I know," Nick said, tears filling his eyes. "Just stay with me Warrick. Not much longer man, just please hang on."
Time seemed to ignore the rules it usually followed after that. It seemed to Nick like days had literally passed since Warrick had spoken and when the ambulance came flying up the alley along with three police cars, Brass and Grissom in one of them. The flashing lights blinded Nick to what was going on. His mind was racing and he couldn't make sense of anything. He was pulled away from Warrick by three sets of hands and brought to the front of the car and up the alley a ways. His back was to all the comotion, and he tried to turn around but strong hands gripped his arms and wouldn't let him move. He looked up at Brass, who was looking right back at him.
"Are you okay?" Brass yelled over all the other noise.
He might as well have been speaking a different language to Nick. The younger man just stared at the police captain, unable to comprehend anything. Brass held on to Nick's arms for a while longer, then the rough texture was replaced by a smooth, soft one as Catherine's hands took the place of Brass'. She looked at Nick, tears in her eyes as well. Grissom joined them, standing in front of Nick, not saying a word.
"Are you okay?" Catherine asked, repeating Brass' question.
Nick still couldn't answer. He couldn't move or think or speak. Catherine led him over to Brass' car with Grissom where she lifted his arm gently and removed his blood soaked t-shirt. A paramedic looked at him and found no wounds of any kind, telling them that the blood was all Warrick's. Catherine then removed his boots and jeans and gave them to Grissom before wrapping a blanket tightly around him and closing the door. She went around to the other side and got in the backseat with him, shutting the other door behind her as well, closing out the sounds from outside.
Nick was staring through the windshield at Warrick's car, the image of his friend dying in front of him forever embedded in his memory. He kept replaying it over and over in his head, hearing the gunshots and seeing the flashing from the gun as the bullets flew through the night air into his best friend. Nick then looked down at himself, not seeing the blanket covering that he was only wearing his boxers, but his blood soaked clothes. Warrick's blood. That didn't make sense to him. Why was Warrick shot? He had been fine, then the next thing Nick knew he was tying his shirt around his neck.
Catherine put her hand on Nick's arm and rubbed it gently. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
Nick looked up at her, hearing something for the first time since he had seen the flashing lights of the ambulance and the police cars. He understood her question, but didn't know how to answer it, so he didn't right away. He just looked at her looking at him, both of them with tears falling from their eyes. After a while, Nick shook his head slowly and was finally able to speak.
"Everything was going to be okay," Nick said softly. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
Catherine buried her face against Nick as Brass got into the car with Grissom and headed for the hospital. Nick rested his cheek on Catherine's head and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep so that when he woke up, this would all just be a bad dream.
Grissom looked in the rearview mirror at his two CSI's, his two friends, in the backseat. They had all thought that this was over and that it was all going to be okay. Now it was starting all over again, and this time it was starting off worse than before, which Grissom personally didn't think was possible. He had been proven wrong, and this time he wasn't looking for it to lead him to right. He wanted it to be over, but it was just starting.
Brass couldn't believe how bad he had messed up. He had been so upset that Warrick had gotten into something so dangerous that he hadn't thought to get him protection he knew he would need. He hadn't gone out to breakfast with his friends like he normally did, and now look at where he was. He was driving Grissom, Nick and Catherine to the hospital to see if Warrick was still alive, or if he had died on the way there.
Nick opened his eyes against the stinging of the tears still falling. He wanted to tell Brass what he had seen. He knew what happened and needed to tell someone, but he couldn't. His mind put a mental block to his mouth, and he couldn't say what he wanted to. All he could do was watch it over and over in his mind, seeing Warrick dying in his arms.
Nick closed his eyes as tightly as he could and prayed to whoever may be listening that he made the right choice.