THIS WOMEN'S WORK
A tragedy strikes Nick and the only way he copes is by finding out why!
Story type: Angst/Tragedy/AU
Characters: Nick Stokes and the team.
Rated M for mature subject manner and violence.
Disclaimer: All the characters, songs, and references do not belong to me, but I thank them dearly for their use.
A/N: All mistakes are mine. I haven't been able to track down a beta, am willing to take volunteers if anyone is willing.
I did as much research on foresnics as I could, but I'm sure there are big mistakes. I'm still learning folks. Be gentle with me in your reviews
WARNING..THIS NEXT CHAPTER IS A BIT..NAUGHTY..
Chapter 3
That night, Nick skipped dinner with his parents and holed himself up in the adjoining bedroom of their hotel suite. Pending the investigation, the Sheriff wanted Nick to never be left alone given that no one knew if the murder was related to Nick's cases in anyway. A uniform was posted outside the door at all hours. After his parents left, he would go and stay with Jim Brass who offered the best deal of the team: Food, shelter, and no questions about his 'emotion state.' On days off, Brass said they'd watch the football game together and that would be his way of offering support.
Nick couldn't ask for a better deal.
His siblings were all flying in for the funeral. They had liked Regine and she got on well with them despite contradicting political views.
Nick was glad for the comfort, but hoped that no one coddled him like they did when he was a youngster and he was the baby always being watched out for. For the kind of pain he was feeing now no ice cream, or chocolate bar was going to help.
He lay on the bed and flicked the TV on. Anderson Cooper 360 was on. Nick smiled as he remembered how he and his wife would find some dark humour in watching the grey-haired man holding onto a telephone poll during a hurricane. It was usually the only bright spot when such tragedies happened to humans.
Nick felt his eyelids grow heavy and he drifted into a slumber bringing dreams of better times.
The Dogs of Eads was an all Celtic pub just north of the Strip.
Hopping out of the Denali, Nick stretched his arms out, relieved from the stress of dealing with Hodges and his God-like ego and the rest of the Lab Rats.
As he walked over, he let Dispatch know he was on break for about an hour and pulled the door open.
He was greeted with sound of clinking glasses, lively conversations about a myriad of subjects Nick briefly heard as he made his way through the crows and loud music.
Regine was up on stage singing, 'Karma Police' by Radiohead on her electric keyboard..'the kind Chris Martin uses' she described it. A gentlemen sat nearby playing a tiny xylophone to enhance the riff as she broke into a bridge singing:
This is what you get
This is what you get
When you mess with us…
She playfully sang into the microphone. Eyes about the audience warning them of Karma's danger. Her hair done up into a bun with strands breaking freely and bouncing around her face.
She was musician as well as a Vet. Her house while sparse in décor was filled with guitars, electric and acoustic, drums, apartment-sized piano, and a bodrhan-which she explained was an Irish drum made out of goatskin. In this case, the goat was her grandmother's and had died of old age. So the drum was made in its honor.
Warrick had come once with him to watch her and described her voice as gifted. She could sing the highs of Chris Martin's sopranos, she could master a rock tune with litter effort givng Pat Benetar a run for her money.
Nick found a booth in the corner and sat forward to make sure she saw him and that he saved a special spot for him. He took off his baseball hat and smiled while she sang the last keys.
The crowd applauded appreciatively. Normally bar bands don't get this kind of reception, but the audience was made up of old friends, veterinarians, animal activists, donors, staff from vet clinics and humane societies around, animal control as tonight was a fundraiser for the humane society.
Regine had left a ticket for Nick with the bouncer who was already familiar with her Texan boyfriend as he'd become a regular.
She trotted over to him enthusiastically; eyes lit up by the very sight of him and kissed him, "Nice to see you here."
"Got a full crowd..." Nick smiled at her, she wore a black-shirt with a silvery black skull imprinted on it, complete with black snug jeans, and black boots with killer heels. Nick once commented that she could ruin a man with those boots.
"And you are on break?" She asked, pulling the clip out of her hair allowing the tresses to tumble about her shoulders, knowing how much he loved her red curls. He eagerly ran his through them nodding, "Yeah, I am."
His soul was lifted by how her face lit up when we walked in. Before she came along, the only people he lit up was Grissom and not in a good way, or Ecklie or whomever decided to make Nick their hackie sack of the day.
She ordered a Rickards Red and turned back to him, "How's it going tonight?"
He hummed and haa'd, "Homeless dude by the Laundromat, Chester, popped off, we found his body by the bush, trying to rule out foul play."
She frowned sadly, "Oh that sucks! I gave him some money once." She sipped the beer as soon as it hit the table.
"You would." Nick scolded and rolled his dark brown eyes.
"Why not?" She answered defensively; the smile turning into instant, justifiable anger; the freckles starting to glower at Nick's social conservatism.
"They could be using it to by drugs darling" Nick fixed her with patronizing stare.
"Or food, Chester didn't look like a drug user to me?" She argued readying herself for a debate, her demeanor growing as offensive as a lion readying itself for a showdown with a hyena for the fresh kill
"Or a drunk?" Nick retorted sternly countering Regine's liberal ideology.
"Well wouldn't you if you were living on the streets my luv?" She kissed him again using this device to change his stubborn mind.
"Don't know, probably won't happen to me anyways." He smirked laying one hand on a palm loving her testiness. Nick loved to push this girl's buttons and he knew all the right ones to get her going onto the soap box of righteousness.
Regine laughed incredously, "Stats show that most people are only two pay cheques away from the streets."
She was ready for him, her dad's political skills worn off on her and ready to challenge the Judge's boy.
"Yeah! Stats change all the time, next it will be three." He said sipping his Coke and polishing off the rest of the wings.
"Or one.." She argued.
"Darlin' I didn't come to debate social woe, but to see you." Nick said raising his hands up to invoke an invisible peace flag.
"Well," She said softly dropping the defenses and getting to the heart of the matter, "What are you doing when you get off shift later?"
"Go home, go to bed." Nick said yawning in a teasing way knowing where the conservation was headed, but playing coy.
"Your bed or my bed?" Her eyes dazzled suggestively, but shyly.
Nick ducked his head equally shy. They'd been dating for some time, but had taken their time. Sounds like it was long enough for her, "I think your bed would be..more..comfortable..so uh..after my shift..I'll think I'll come over and get some shut eye. What do you think?"
She bit her lower lip, nervously and then leaned over and whispered, "I don't think you'll be getting too much sleep."
Nick looked down and noticed a hand stroking the inside of his thigh-a promise of things to come.
"So Mr. Ecklie, was there PENETRATION?!!"
Nancy Grace's screechy voice jolted Nick awake.
What the hell was on TV? He'd been watching some Entertainment Show to see how Hollywood's young was partying themselves into career oblivion when he dozed off.
The grief was there waiting for him. Like a python ready to close itself around it's victims and suffocate them to death.
Nick slowly sat up and stared at the bullet-hair style woman going on about "penetration" in a high profile murder/sexual assault case his wife's.
The headline at the bottom of the screen read:
"Vegas Crime Fighter's Wife Brutally Sexually Assaulted/Murdered!!!"
Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Nick groggily watched his wife's murder became infotainment for all of America. Her body being wheeled out by Doc Robbins as he saw himself being rushed into Grissom's Denali by Brass.
The screen split with Conrad Ecklie was in one part of the screen while the bullet-haired woman was in there.
"Was there penetration Mr. Ecklie?" Grace's face was keenly lit up awaiting the answered.
The bitch always emphasized the word 'penetration.' As if she personally got a kick out of saying it knowing it would bring in sorely needed numbers.
Ecklie's lips thinned as he weighed the question heavily before answering, his voice void of emotion.
"At this time, I am not a liberty to say Ms. Grace. Due to legalities, we are not permitted to going into vivid detail of the case other then to say that our Lab is the second best one in United States. We solve crimes that other jurisdictions have rendered unsolvable; it is only a matter of time before this one will join the list of those solved."
Nick snorted. The guy was slick, but for once he was grateful for it.
"And how is her husband doing? He must be shattered by this. His wife murdered while he was out in some desert looking at a skeleton.."
Ecklie's face seemed to tighten as he struggle to maintain composure despite the absolute inane questions he was being asked by the D.A turned yellow journalist's question. Hell even he had his standards. "Mr. Stokes is doing well given the circumstances, and is in seclusion at this time with his family, and I will point out, Ms. Grace, that Mr. Stokes is a top-ranking Criminalist and was doing his job at the time of his murder. He was not out 'looking at some skeleton in the desert.' He was investigating a crime scene. That's what we pay him to do"
Grace was silenced momentarily before announcing that they were going to break.
Nick felt a bit of a relief. Ecklie was defending him.
His mother's tired face peered through the door, "Sofia and Sara are here Nick. Do you want to talk to them?"
Nick nodded, "I'll be out in a minute."
Flipping off the TV, he got out of the bed and went into the bathroom. As he turned on the tap, he looked in the mirror and took stock of what he saw. The last few days had rocked him not only emotionally, but physically. His eyes were red and swollen to the point that they were mere slits, his laugh lines deepened, his face swollen from lack of sleep and pure mental exhaustion.
He rubbed the back of his head staring at his hair for a second. He'd gone back to the military look recently. When he'd met Regine, he had shaved his head for the umpteenth time, and then allowed it to grow back. She'd role her eyes when he talked about his ever-changing hair styles.
"What so funny!" Nick asked her not sure if wanted to hear her latest observation about him.
"Just thinking about Grandpa Simpson?" She answered coyly while dancing with him at the last Christmas Party.
"Grandpa Simpson? From The Simpsons?"
She nodded and lowered her voice and said in a raspy voice trying to imitate the old geezer, "Now there's a hair cut you can set your watch to." She rubbed the top of his head.
"Oh man!!" Nick laughed so hard his sides began to split.
The memory let him go as he leaned over the sink, cupped his hands under the flow of the cold water and then splashed it across his face. He did this about four times before turning off the tap and reaching for the hand towel and padded his face dry. He pulled out a comb and ran it through his hair.
Feeling a bit freshened; he then made his way out of the adjoining room into the hotel's room sitting area where Sara and Sofia sat. Off at the table in the kitchenette sat his parents pouring over paper work. His dad had been on the phone with lawyers to keep things hidden from the media, dealing with wills, funeral arrangements and so forth. Their legal expertise relieved Nick of added stress; stress he didn't need, but a part wished for some distraction from their horrors of his current reality.
With arms stretched, Sofia embraced him tightly whispering condolences.
Then he looked at Sara awkwardly and nodded at her. Sara's dislike of Nick's wife had put a rift in their friendship.
But now it was time to set those tensions aside.
Nick invited the ladies to sit down.
"How are you Nick?" Sara asked nervously. Her friend was dressed in a rumpled button-up cotton white shirt and jeans. He looked like he just woke up from a nap, not a solid one though. His blood-shot eyes had a haunted look about them.
"I'd be better if my wife's murder wasn't all over the news." Nick answered eyes and lip narrowed angrily.
Sara nodded sadly, "We're doing our best to keep the details private.
Judge Stokes walked over and pressed his son's shoulder, "I told you son, I'm going to go to the court house in the morning to ask the judge to impose a media ban. It's not going to be easy, but I know this Judge Striker real well."
Nick smiled appreciatively at his dad and squeezed his hand.
Sofia nodded at the older man and got down to business..
"Nick can you tell us anything or anyone you know who would want to do this to your wife?" Her voice was soft and sympathetic, eyes looking into his.
Nick shook his head, "She had a lot of friends, but she also had some people pretty ticked off with her too. Mostly those whose businesses were affected by her lobbying efforts because corporations don't like it when you get in the way of making money."
He looked straight at Sara and asked her, "So Sara tells me was there any sign of sexual assault?"
Sara looked over at Sofia pressing her lips together firmly. Then she opened the file nodding.
"Yes, Nick there was." She answered honestly harbouring Grissom's MO of simply being straight with the victim's family.
What Sara didn't tell him was about the pregnancy. Grissom ordered that part be kept until after the investigation.
She watched as Nick nodded and leaned back in the couch, folding his arms, eyes glistening.
Jill Stokes walked over and sat beside her son, placing her hand on his shoulder. He clasped it and looked up at her.
"Please, must this be done right at this moment?" She pleaded with the two women.
The two women looked at each other, before Sofia asked, voice filled with kindness, "Mrs. Stokes, could you both let us have some time alone with Nick. This next part of questioning is quite personal."
.She didn't like the role she was about to play at this moment, but in order to build a solid case. It had to be done.
His parents looked at them in exasperation. Not wanting to leave their youngest son one second.
"It's okay Mom," Nick assured his parents, "Its protocol."
Judge Stokes nodded and with his wife left the hotel room, the door closing softly behind them.
Sofa folded her hands and leaned slightly over to Nick who slumped in the chair rubbing the small bridge of skin between his dark eyes.
"I'm sorry; I need to ask these questions."
"I know."
"What was your relationship like with Regine before her death?"
Sara noticed Nick's eyes move to the side, indicative of someone recalling a memory and the tiny smile forming on his lips meant it was a damn good one.
"It was good, really good." He managed to answer his voice quivering.
Both women ducked their heads a bit embarassed by what they knew already.
"You had some problems though, did you not?" Sofia's face got serious.
Nick's looked at them quizzically. His eyebrows knitted together, head cocked to the side.
"What do you mean?"
Sara chose her next set of words carefully, "Weren't you complaining about feeling as if recently she was keeping something from you."
He stared hard at Sara, "To Warrick, yeah.?
"I was there too." She answered uncomfortably.
"I never noticed." Nick answered coldly looking away.
"I know." She nodded.
Sofia interjected, "Nick, why do you think your wife was shutting you out in the past few months?"
Nick shifted in his seat and sighed, "Regine was a very focused woman. She and her friend Lee were working on a project with a local animal welfare group. She was not an animal rights crusader, but sometimes she worked with certain groups, but she never told me anything other then saying 'it was all legal.' That was just how she was. She didn't just fight the cause. She became the cause and it became her."
Sofia opened her file and pulled out a photo, "Nick, what was their relationship like? How close were?"
It was picture of Regine, Lee and some others at a protest in front of the Mirage.
The dark-haired criminalist took the photo nodded, his eyes narrowed, "Lee was her best friend. They've known each other for years."
Sofia eyed him carefully and asked, "Did you know that he's missing?"
"No." Nick answered, his voice sounding honestly shocked.
"And I guess I don't have to explain to you that that makes him a suspect?"
Laughing in disbelief Nick cried, "Jesus Christ, they were best friends! They played together in her band. He wouldn't do this to her?"
Sara stayed focus, "They spent a lot of time together!"
"At our house working on their Cause!" Nick glared daggers at Sara.
"Would you have any idea of his whereabouts Nick?" Sofia asked hating this role more and more, "His roommate reported that he hasn't been seen since the same night Regine. He got a frantic call from her and he went out and never returned."
Nick folded his arms and stared into space, "I didn't know him all that well other then he and Regine seemed joined at the hip so much so that I did feel as if there were three of us in the marriage. I tried to talk to Regine about it, but she shot me down so I just dropped it. Figured once this Cause was behind her, he wouldn't be around as much."
He looked at the two women listening attentively to his answer and then asked, "Should I...I think I know where this headed ladies and maybe my parents should be here if this is going to go in a direction. I thought you were here about Regine."
"We are here about Regine because Lee is also a potential suspect given the timing of his disappearance as is everyone Nick."
Nick rubbed his temples feeling twinges of a major headache coming on. Spots were forming in front of his eyes.
"Look," He said his voice raspy, "I'm not making excuses for the guy, but I highly doubt that he would have anything to do with this."
"His fingerprints were all over your house Nick?" Sara replied.
"Well, yeah. I told you he was visiting a lot." He leaned back into the couch, rubbing his eyes longing for a Tylenol.
"We found some evidence of his being in your bedroom?" Sofia asked.
Nick smirked, "Yeah, he spent the night at our house two nights before she died while the two of them were preparing a report to give to the Development Council. Regine was in the kitchen working on it. She told him to go and use our bed and get good nights rest. I came home for a break and made her go lay on the couch because she looked tired."
"Why didn't he go to the couch?"
"Lee was a tall guy, almost seven feet, our couch wasn't that long!"
"And you are sure that's there been nothing more then that to their relationship Nick?" Sara asked.
"As sure as I can be Sara? Now am I suspect in his disappearance as well Regine's murder? Because my parents can vouch for my whereabouts the past few days. They haven't left my side. They haven't left my side since the night...Regine…Regine." Nick started gasping out the last words before tears started to flow freely down his face.
"I put my job before her." He choked, "If I hadn't taken that call from Catherine, she'd be alive..."
Sara dropped her professionalism, leaned forward and grabbed his hands, "Nick, you don't know that the guy could have been stalking her for weeks and waited for any moment to get her…"
Nick snorted and shook his head angrily, "No, Sara, I don't know that..no one knows that..because like any other case, this is going to take weeks, months, HELL, it could take fucking years before we know who did this. Look at Catherine's ex-husband. It's a goddamn cold case Sara!"
Sara shook her head and squeezed his hands tighter, "Not all of them wind up being cold cases Nick. You have to have faith in the process. I can't give you a solid answer on when this case will be solved, but you know me Nick."
Nick looked at her through eyes brimming with tears and spoke through the lump in his throat, "Yeah you can be a bulldog at times."
"And I promise to be this time. Okay."
Sofia took a deep breath because the next question was uncomfortable, "Nick…I…need to know this…but…did you and Regine have…intercourse prior to your shift?"
Nick swallowed hard and nodded, "Yeah we had an argument about her advocacy work and…well. We were kind of making up..."
"Did you use a condom?" Sofia asked these questions while looking at the file. She felt embarrassed for everyone in that rom.
Shaking his head, Nick answered quickly, "No…I. didn't."
Sofia sighed with relief that that part of questioning was behind that.
Nick asked her, "Was any semen left at the scene."
"The only semen found matched your DNA."
The Texan's shoulders slumped with disappointment. A DNA sample would make the path to finding the perp a little less intricate.
Sofia asked one final question, "Nick, what do you know about the paintings Regine had."
He shrugged, "They were autographed prints from a Canadian artist. One of them was called Cougar in the Snow, another one was Leopard in the Snow. Why?"
"They were missing from the crime scene. Were they there before you left?"
"Of course!! Regine would never sell those paintings. She loves Robert Bateman or loved." Nick felt sickened at having to talk about her in past tense. Then he went on to say, "Christ! They are worth a lot, but not that much, they weren't originals, but they were autographed by the guy himself. Her late husband gave them to her before he clocked himself off."
Nick's tongue was running over dried lips as he theorized, "I can't see those paintings as being a motive! They were stolen as a distraction."
"Nick," Sara said, "Just so you know. We..we..need to bring your truck in to verify the mileage."
"Yeah, because I'm a suspect in Regine's murder?" He snarled.
She smiled sympathetically, "We've all been questioned as to our whereabouts that night. Even me Nick."
"Yeah, cause you hated Regine's guts!" Nick stared hard at her, "And made her life fucking difficult every chance you got. Right!"
"No, I didn't but now's not the time to get into that Nick." Sara answered offensively.
They were interrupted by the sounds of the hotel lock clicking. Nick's parents looked in apprehensively. Sofia nodded over to them that they could come in.
"Everything okay Poncho?" The Judge could see the conversation had not gone well as he and his wife walked in carrying bags from clothing stores; outfits to wear to funerals as they rushed to Vegas so fast, they didn't have time to pack.
"Everything is fine dad!" his son answered resuming a brave face, but it was too hard, "Everything is just peachy!!!" Tears began to stream down and with those words, Nick stood up and walked back to the bedroom and slammed the door.
Sara and Sofia stood up and let Judge Stokes show them the door.
"My boy's just hurtin' ladies. It's nothing personal." He explained.
"We know Judge Stokes, and trust us as soon as we know anything Nick will be informed." Sara answered.
The Judge opened the door for them, "So we'll see you at the funeral?"
The both nodded.
"Julian of Norwich this Satuday, 2:00 p.m."
In his room, Nick sat on the bed breathing hard, trying to contain himself.
Rage filled him and it took every ounce of him to not grab something in that room and smash it to bits.
Nick's hands were in fists, making his veins pop up.
He tore off his clothes, down to his boxers and preceded with some push ups. He wanted to vent this anger out of him.
Nick got to 200 before he finally collapsed onto the floor. Then jumped up and sat onto his bed.
He was still wound up, while exercising was certainly a good way to temporarily rid his rage, now his adrenaline was on fire.
Nick would have loved to gone for a jog, but unfortunately, the uniform outside his door would be on his tail.
Sleep. That was probably the best remedy right now. And he turned to his old buddy Atavan to knock him senseless. They've had on and off relationship since the day he was buried alive.
He stuck two under his tongue and waited for them to dissolve.
Crawling under the sheets, still clad in his boxers (having locked the door so mom wouldn't walk on him), Nick drifted into a sleep; the tingling of the drug relaxing him.
"You're late!!!"
Standing in the door, hands shoved into his pocket, Nick looked down forlornly feeling like a five-year-old with his hand caught in the forbidden cookie jar.
Regine leaned against the door way wearing red tartan flannels, hair scraggly and hanging down in a braid over one shoulder. Her face was tired and furious.
He was supposed to be at her house at 7:30 a.m.
It was now 11:00 a.m.
It couldn't be helped. Nick had hit a major breakthrough on a case and it needed to be followed through. Time just flew by.
"I waited until about 9:00 and then put my flannels on and headed to bed." She explained about the casual attire, "I figured you'd forgotten."
Nick mumbled, "Yeah..no..I didn't forget..I wouldn't forget..I..…I got.. caught up in a case at the Lab. Sorry." He shifted his weight, head down.
She folded her arms and glared at him, not impressed by the answer.
"You're a CSI, you know how to use a phone!" She brought her thumb and pinky up her ear imitating Mr. Bell's invention.
The CSI shrugged, he could have used a phone, but he was so focused that time simply flew.
A tiny brown and white, canine face peered through the door. It was Butterfly the Papillion-Jack Russel mix. A small dog with a big dog personality.
Butterfly growled at Nick. He didn't like the CSI very much. Regine told him the smells from the Lab made him nervous. Well dogs did have a stronger sense of smell and he probably smelled Hodges at that moment.
Ranger ,the Nova Scotian Duck Tolling Retriever poked his head out and barked a more friendly bark. His sandy brown face almost in a smile.
The little dog hated Nick. The big dog loved him. When Nick thought about it, he felt stuck in some Dr. Seuss book.
Go Dog! Go! Stay Dog! Stay.
One dog growling at Nick
One dog saying hello to Nick.
Regine glared at the mongrels and ordered them to "Allez!!"
With surprising understanding of the French Language, the two slid back inside.
Regine glared some more, making sure Nick was uncomfortable as can be before asking,
"So you must be tired eh?"
Nick smiled at both the question and the Canadian accent that punctuated it.
"Pretty tired…" He answered slightly flirtatiously" I…could use a good rest.."
Regine stared at him defiantly undoing the brain allowing the curls to spring free from their constraints before softening her stance and held her hand to him, "It's time for bed Mr. Stokes."
He flashed one his smiles as he followed her.
As soon the door was closed and he hung on his jacket on the hook she pulled him to her and kissed him deeply. He responded by sliding his hands under the pajama top and yanking it over her head then pressed her into the hallway wall massaging her generous breasts roughly. Goddamn he wanted her bad and she had been a lady and made him wait for almost a month!!!. She had been making him feel like some high school boy having reached third base and wanting so badly to hit that homerun.
Waiting time was over and he wanted her. Palms against the wall, he grinded himself into her while his mouth devoured hers. Surprised by his aggressiveness, then excited she responded back by pulling his shirt out of his pants and then sliding her hands underneath to massage his abs, pecs.
"The hallway is an option," She whispered in between kisses as she tugged at the opening of his jeans, reaching inside to fondle him causing him to grind into her harder. Nick rained kissed down the side of her neck till he reached her breasts gathering them and kissing them softly while she ran her fingers through his dark hair.
He came back up and kissed that gorgeous mouth. He slid his hands into her pajama bottoms and was thrilled to find there was no underwear to worry about. He pressed, kneaded and fondled the contents and then stood back a minute to let her pull off his t-shirt. She playfully tossed it onto one of the cats who was sleeping on the chair of the coat rack.
Nick groaned, "Great cat hair."
She smiled and took his hand to lead him into the comforts of her bedroom, "That's why the good lord invented lint brushes."
The t-shirt was forgotten about as he took a quick glance around the room. Paintings of wild animals adorned the walls painted a light grey.
"Nice paintings." He complimented. One was a very, very realistic cougar sitting in some snow, while the other was a white leopard walking along a snowy path. Nick almost felt like he was in the room with them.
She followed his gaze, "Yeah, that's Robert Bateman. He's one of my favourites. Sarath gave those to me on my 30th birthday. They're autographed by the man himself."
Nick held her close for a second. Sarath was an hands-off subject between the two of them. She had been standing by the four-poster ed with the burgundy comforter waiting for him to start kissing her again and he obliged, his tongue probing hers, as his hands went back to work, grabbing her ass and kneading it. Her hands sliding inside the back of his jeans which were loosened and hang slightly. He had been more tired then a damn dog, but the recent activity charged his endorphins to the fullest. The sounds of their fast and heavy breathing filled the room.
Nick gently moved Regine onto the bed where she sat down and lid back and allowed him to pull of her bottoms. He stood back admiring her nude body. Her skin was alabaster white with a smatter of freckles on her arms and legs. Her curves were generous and her stomach was round and protruded slightly. He'd seen glimpses of it in their make out sessions, but not in its full glory. He rubbed the sides of her legs and kissed the insides.
That's when he noticed the tattoo.
A Grey Wolf howling a full moon.
He smiled accusingly at her and pointed to it, "You're really an animal lover. Aren't you?"
She blushed as he studied her some more and quickly sat up to finish undoing his jean and brazenly pulled them down, boxers and all and he assisted by stepping out of them and kicking them away. Regine grinned at his erection before scooting back onto the bed waiting for him. Laying, her head on the pillow she watched him crawl in and scoot beside her. He laid beside her and drew her to him.
Skin to skin they pressed. Their mouths exploring each other and hands frantically roaming crevices, contours, and pleasure points; the bed creaking with each movement.
With his expert hands Nick brought her to near climax, her body writhing, open and wanting. She returned the favour, her tiny surgical hands working him up to a frenzy.
Then she drew away for a second and leaned over to grab protection lying on the side table.
"So, you're definitely ready for this." Nick whispered gruffly as he took the small package from her, undoing it as he roll onto his back It was more of an observation then a question.
"Nick, I was ready when I first saw you in the hallway at the Crime Lab." Regine grinned as she hungrily watched him roll the condom onto his erection. "I wanted to jump that skinny, Texan body weeks ago.."
"But you made me wait." He whined.
"I'm a lady sir!!!" She scolded, twirling her fingers through a lock of red hair.
"Not for long woman." He warned making sure the device was slid on properly.
Nick slowly moved himself on top of her. Her legs wrapped around his slender waist as he entered her body teasingly slow. He felt her tense then relax as he began at a low and methodic pace, the tempo increasing at her urging. Her hands were all over his back. Finger nails on his spine making him groan before kissing that luscious mouth that he adored and staring down at her intensely. She moaned and whimpered quietly with each thrust and her hands imprinted themselves on his ass to encourage him to go deeper. He readily obliged.
With her encouragement, they changed positions and she was soon on top riding him almost frantically. Nick couldn't help but compare her to one of those chicks on a mechanical bull in a Dallas tavern.
"Jesus..girl!" Nick gasped, "I'm not a bucking bronto here!" He laughed at her ardent enthusiasm.
She laughed and slowed a bit, rubbing his chest and leaning over to kiss him. Soon he rolled back on top of her and rode her body until she cried out, a muffled cry buried into his shoulder. Then he allowed himself to hit his crescendo, crying out loudly before collapsing onto her body. Every one of his extremities tingling. He pulled out and removed the device, and discreetly disposed of it.
His breathing slowly went back to normal as he propped up himself and looked down at her.
The sight that greeted him brought a grin to his face.
"Are those….tears..are you crying woman!" Nick laughed soflty.
She wiped them away furiously..embarassed, but was unsuccessful as they kept coming.
"Now don't being doing that.." He said kissing them away…then reluctantly rolled off her..
"Are sad..I mean was this to soon?He asked feeling awkward no memory of making a girl cry with his lovemaking springing forth. Usually what followed was a cigarette or loud chatter.
"No just..happy..because..I..don't remember ever being this much in love with someone..and I just am scared it will all disappear from me again.." She smiled through her tears that she allowed to flow freely.
"No it won't darling..I ain't going anywhere.." He said pulling her to him, stroking her hair, "Cause for the first time in years..I like where I am.."
"Je pense je t'dore.." She whispered looking up at him, still clammy from their romp.
"Ci senorita" He smiled back.
The beeping of his cellphone alarm awoke Nick. It was the morning of the funeral.
Bits and pieces of the dream slowly faded into his memory. The Atavin taken had left him feeling as if he'd been hitting a six pack the night before, but he needed these things right now…just right now..
He sat up in the bed, intense sadness and grief taking over and gripping him like a damn vice.
The dream only made his current reality worse. The first few months of dating Regine were some of the happiest in his life.
She was such a scatterbrain; she accidentally left her cellphone in his truck; locker her keys in her minivan once; and her house was so scattered and messy that it amazed Nick that she even found anything. After he moved in, it got a little more organized, on his encouragement.
He smiled slightly at the memory and thanked it for escaping him from reality. If briefly.
The sun shone through the verticial blinds; a sunny day; Regine would appreciate that.
Nick heard a soft knock at the door.
"Son!" His mother called, "Are you awake?"
He cleared his throat, "Yeah Mom."
"We're ordering room service. Do you want anything."
Not really. "Just toast." He replied flatly. Nick didn't want to worry his parents anymore then they were.
The effects of the sleeping pill seemed to be lifting and he got out of the bed, his body protesting every move and headed into the bathroom.
Nick turned on the tap of the shower and then stood up to look in the mirror. His five o'clock shadow needed some attention or else his mother would be nagging him. Not that it would alter his appearance for the better. He looked like hell frozen over. His laugh lines deep, his normally tanned skins gone palour, like a corpse in Doc Robbins morgue.
Sliding off his boxers, Nick stepped into the steaming shower.
The water beat down on him and he slid down into the tub as another memory took hold of him. One of the last times he spent with her was in the shower. He had come home from a shift to her in there singing and he poked his head in and asked if he could join her. Of course she nodded excitedly.
He could still smell her, still remember how she tasted, how her soft body felt up against him. He slid down in the tub and hoisted his knees to his chest and sobbed deeply feeling the pelts of hot water beat his skin.
Nick was not a suicidal person, but this was hell on earth that only Dr. Kervorkian himself could cure.
The Texan was not a particularly spiritual person either, but sometimes he wondered if Karma was fucking at it again. He must have been major son-of-a-bitch in his former life to be getting all the crap thrown at him in this one.
Finishing his shower, he towel dried himself and tied it around his slim waist, he shaved, brushed his teeth (the first time in days)slapped on some cologne and made his way back into his bedroom and opened the closet door.
His parents had drug him out to buy a new suit and tie for the funeral. It was crisp, sleek and free from pet hairs. Warrick had also dropped by with some new threads given that Nick's house was a crime scene and all he had were the clothes he wore that night.
"Thank's Bro!" Nick mumbled as Warrick handed the bags to him.
They were sitting in the living room as his parents were out having dinner downstairs in the restaurant. Nick combed through the t-shirts, jeans, boxers and socks. Hell his friend had bought him some new shoes.
"No problem.." The tall black man turned his attention to the football game. "You look like hell!!"
"Yeah I know." Nick answered blankly, not really concerned about it at all.
Her best friend, Maria took Nick out to buy some clothes for Regine to be buried in. It was hard because Regine had no set style. Her favourite attire was jeans and t-shirts with rock band logos on it. Not something that her parents would like to see their daughter buried in. Nick would have gone for it because his wife would have definitely loved it.
Eventually, they settled on khaki-coloured Capri's with a long, flowing white silk blouse. Maria picked out the outfit saying it was her style.
Nick buttoned up the white dress suit and grabbed the navy blue tie. His stomach was quivering from nerves and he started counting to five in order to settle them. His therapist told him to try it whenever he felt panicky or anxious. He had to count five things he smelled; five things he saw, and five things he heard.
The goal: Ground yourself back into reality.
He tried and he tried. Nick kept losing count.
He heard light knocking at his door.
"Yeah!"
"Just me Pancho.." His dad's voice answered.
Nick was trying to do his tie, buut somehow couldn't do it. The counting was not working, but fuck he was trying, his fingers wouldn't co-operate they shook and shook.
"C, c, mon in dad." Nick called, his voice shaking slightly. He was ready to explode. His rage was simmering in him, threatening to take over and hurl the damn tie to oblivion.
Judge Stokes, dressed in black, Italian suit, the kind her wore under his robe on the stand, walked in and saw his son standing there, fingers shaking over the silk blue tie, his class ring waving at each movement. He growled in frustration and placed his hands on his waist, tie dangling from one of his hands.
"Let me do that for you son." The Judge said gently.
"I got it Dad." Nick's eyes were tearing in frusteration. It was just a .freakin' tie!!!! He hated ties which was one of the reasons Nick loved his job so much was because of its casual attire.
"I know you got it." Cisco said softly trying very hard not to offend his stubborn Texan son, but the boy needed help. He was burying his wife today. "But I'd like to help you?"
"Fine!" Nick snapped handing the damn tie to his father.
Judge Stokes looped the tie carefully and finished it. His son was trying to avert his eyes, but eventually they met. Tears welled in Nick's eyes as he saw the sadness and helplessness in his father's eyes.
"Pancho, son I'm sorry you're going through this." Bill Stokes told him his own voice tight, "She was a really fine girl."
Nick crumbled into his dad's arms and sobbed, allowing pride to vacate the premises and comfort take its place.
Judge Stokes patted his sobbing son's back and quietly whispered, "First bleeding heart liberal who actually made sense to me. Maybe I'll vote Democrat in the next election in her honour."
Nick's sobs turned into small laughter and he pulled away grabbing some tissues off the dressers and wiped his eyes. He shoved more into his pocket for the road.
His father cleared his throat, "Best we be going."
Nick nodded and followed his father out.
..to be continued..