Chapter Nine: Last Goodbye

Nick was left alone in his front room, staring at the carpet. He could not believe what had just happened. How could he have been so stupid? In a matter of minutes things between him and Sara had gone from kind of okay to disastrous, and he had no one to blame but himself.

Why had he even said anything in the first place? He should have known it would lead to nothing but trouble. But of course he was being Nick, thinking with his heart instead of his head. He should have learned by now that the best way to preserve your heart is to ignore it completely, pretend it's not even there. That way you can't end up breaking it.

But stupid, stupid Nick never learns from his mistakes.

Instead he keeps fucking up over and over again, tearing his heart into even smaller pieces than he started out with.

He sighed and stood up, grabbing the empty beer bottles from the coffee table and walking them to the kitchen. He made a pit-stop at the fridge to grab a fresh bottle and then returned to the sofa where he sat staring at the wall.

He didn't even bother opening the bottle in his hand. He just held it until it grew warm.

The only thing that had kept him going these past few months was the thought that maybe, somehow there was a chance for him to fix things, to make things better for himself. And then he had gone and screwed everything up for himself.

There was no fixing things now.

He had told her he loved her.

He had scared her away.

But still he didn't really regret what had happened. He was in love with her and she deserved to know. He would want to know if someone was in love with him. He only wished things had played out differently. Why couldn't he have written her a letter? That would have been easier. He could have dropped it off along with his letter of resignation, and then he wouldn't have to see the look in her eyes when she read it. He wouldn't have to watch her walking away like he was right now, over and over again in his head.

All he could see was her pulling away from him, her hand on the doorknob.

All she wanted was a shoulder to cry on, but Nick couldn't even give her that. He had to drive her away.

It left him feeling strangely numb inside. He wasn't sad or angry or resentful. He was just numb. All other emotion would have to wait until his insides had thawed out.

Until then he was nothing but numb.

He sighed and stood up, walking the unopened bottle to the kitchen and placing it on the counter along with the others. He stared for a moment at Sara's bottle. It was still half full. She had abandoned it on the coffee table before she left and now it was sitting on his kitchen counter, surrounded by a bunch of empty bottles. And one unopened one. It looked out of place. Nick couldn't bare the thought of it being so omitted so he poured it down the drain.

He left the unopened bottle alone, though.

His keys were in his jacket pocket. He grabbed the whole coat and left, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

The time had come to say goodbye.

The drive to the crime lab was a slow one. His heart seemed to be stuck in his throat the whole way and his stomach seemed to have become a bottomless pit. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove, the dull thump, thump, thumping not doing much to fill the hollow silence.

He parked his truck at the back of the parking lot, walking as slow as possible towards the lab doors. He looked around as he walked, taking in the familiar sights and sounds for the last time. The thought made everything seem so much more significant.

The crunch of the gravel beneath his boots.

The smell of the asphalt.

The sounds of laughter drifting toward him through an open car door.

It all seemed so…ominous, as though he would never see daylight again, as though he was being exiled to a life in purgatory. And in a way, he was.

A cool gust of air greeted him as he passed through the doors to the air conditioned lab. He walked determinedly through the hallways, glad for once to be here off-hours. The chances of running into anyone important were slimmer this way. He could only hope that Grissom had not decided to pull a triple again.

But he hadn't.

His supervisor's office was dark as he approached, the lights turned out, the door securely closed. Nick placed a hand on the doorknob and turned. It opened easily. The light from the hallway poured inside, illuminating the path to the paper-strewn desk in the corner. He took a deep breath and then entered.

The shelves and shelves that lined the walls seemed so foreboding in the darkness. He could see the jars of preserved insects and other unmentionables peering at him through the glass. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He quickened his pace to the desk, eager to be rid of the eerie sensation.

When he did finally reach it, though, he froze.

What was he doing? This wasn't something he could change his mind about later. This was a lifelong decision, and if it was the wrong one, there was no going back. That being said, he was not so sure his decision had been the right one.

But he knew deep down that it was the right decision. His life in Vegas had come to a stalemate and the only way to progress was to leave Vegas for good. He was fairly certain that the heartache pertaining to Sara would follow him no matter where he went, but he was also convinced that if he started over he would have a chance of dealing with the pain. If he stayed it would eat him alive.

Leaving was his only option.

Not to mention the fact that he would be lucky if Sara even looked at him again after what had happened. And if she told Grissom…Well, that wouldn't make for a very comfortable work environment for anyone.

No. Leaving was his only option.

He sighed and fished in the pocket of his jacket, his fingers closing around a thin piece of paper. He withdrew the now-wrinkled envelope containing his letter of resignation. He took a pen off of a stack of paperwork and scrawled his supervisor's name across the surface, and then he placed the letter in the center of the desk and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

He wandered the crime lab before he left, memorizing the hallways and labs, stopping in the break room for one last cup of sordid coffee, and then walked back to his truck and drove home.