Young Geek Love - A Two- Toned Conversation

A/N- This is set post Prasidium (S06Ep03) and pre- 3rd Choir (S06Ep04) . I'm not portraying or trying to portray any particular character/s as being an alcoholic.

This idea came to me whem reading something in class involving alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer : I do not own any of the characters in this story, they are property of CBS and Shane Brennan.

Please R&R

TheAlphabetSong xx

00..

Eric picked up his phone and pressed re-dial.. again. He listened hoping for her to pick up. He waited through the ring tone, hoping to whoever was up there; whoever had great power, for her to pick up her phone. He was disappointed when he heard her voicemail flick over. Hanging up- becuase he'd already left messages- he slumped in his chair, he wanted to know that she was okay.

When she had gotten back from impersonating Hetty, and killing a man for the first time, she seemed okay, like she was dealing with it well. This was not the case, she had acted accordingly, to lull everyone into a false sense of security. She seemed to be coping for the most part, she'd even managed to crack a smile when Sam had asked her how she was. She lauged at Deeks' attempts at making her feel better by letting Callen and Sam mess with him. Even though Eric knew her best, he was also fooled by her facade. Up until the last moment when she was leaving. She had been smiling and laughing until she turned around and lied to Eric. She said that she'd see him the next day but, he knew then and there that, that would not be the case. As she had turned away from him, she let her facade drop.

Not many others would have noticed, people looked at her when they spoke to her, but they would have still been getting over her outstanding intelligence, or admiring her looks, or being stunned by her red hair. Not Eric. He was still constantly amazed by her intelligence and knew that she was a red - haired beauty. But when he spoke to her he never focused on that for more than a moment before looking at her eyes. They were the most powerful things in the universe, they captivated his attention constantly. And they were the part of her facade that dropped first, allowing him to notice.

He picked up his phone and pulled up his contacts, he scrolled to the same letter again but picked a different contact. Thankfully this person answered.

"Hey, Eric," a voice greeted, "how's it going?"

"Not great," Eric replied.

"How so," Nate inquired.

"Nell, had to shoot someone and they didn't make it."

"Okay."

"And on top of that Hetty is in D.C being questioned. Most likely about Afghanistan."

"Neither of those sound too great, although actually I was called back to LA by Granger, now I guess I know why," Nate mentioned, "that said, it's going to be a few days before I will be able to catch a break here."

"Important lead, I guess," Eric guessed.

"Yeah, but you know I can't say more than that."

"I know."

"She might just need a friend, and you two work together. So if you don't have a case load from hell, maybe just stop by later," Nate suggested.

"I might just do that," Eric said.

"Times like these, people need others that they care about and trust."

"I know. Thanks for the chat and I'll see you in a few days."

"See you then," Nate said before hanging up.

Later that day as Eric was driving to Nell's apartment he tried calling her one last time. Still no answer. He went to call her back , but then thought against it. If she hadn't picked up all the other times he'd called and hadn't called him back, then she clearly didn't want to talk to him. Eric debated this for a while, weighing up the options and possible scenarios in his head. He had up until he got to the intersection where he would either continue straight ahead (to continie to his place) or he would turn left (to pay a friend in need a visit).

Even once past the intersection he still debated his decision, unsure of how it would turn out. He didn't think that Nell would do something stupid in a slightly ultered mental state, but even some of the most rational people had lapses in judgement when emotions were involved. Because to be honest emotions are one of the most problematic issues in life and everyone has them, and even the calmest, most rational people in the world- in the universe, have their demons.

He walked through the lobby and seeing that there was only one elevator and it was currently 'out of order' for repairs, he had no choice but to take the stairs. He took them two at a time up to the second floor, led a fast paced walk down the corridor and knocked on her door. Waited. No answer. He knocked again and after a short minute he tried the door handle. He twisted it to the left amd it came open.

Opening it slightly he announced his presence by calling out to her, "Nell? Nell are you here?"

"Eric?" He heard a small voice whisper.

"Yes, it's me," he replied as he cautiously ventured further into the unlit apartment," are you okay?"

She laughed sarcastically- not a good sign.

He made out rough outlines of objects with the small amount of light coming through the tiny gap he left in the door. He held his left hand out to the side feeling his way forwards using the grooves and bumps as a guideline as he moved past her bedroom door and slowly made his way to the kitchen. He stopped. The light from on top of the stove was on, laying light on the subject on the floor. Nell sat on a faded blue cushion resting her shoulders between kitchen cabinets. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her head slumped on them was tilted toward Eric. Her bare feet sat on her white tiled floor and nestled between her feet was a half empty bottle of wine, and from the way she looked- hair wet and drying fluffy, eyes red and puffy; expression transfixed and distant; it was not her first one.

The change in her attitude and apperence startled Eric, so he just stood there standing in shock.

"So, why did you stop by?" Nell asked, voice slightly sour.

"I came by to make sure my partner was okay," he replied simply walking over to sit down next to her, "it's what partners do. They keep the other company and give them a friend when they need it. It's normal."

"So you're saying that it would be normal if Deeks came to find Kensi drinking herself into a stupor?" Nell asked sarcastically clearly ashamed of her actions, "are you saying that it would be normal if Sam found Callen wollowing away becuase he couldn't handle a heat of the moment choice he'd made?" she challenged taking another sip from the bottle

"No," he answered with certainty, "not in those cases, not now anyway." He needed some way to segway the conversation in his favour, "maybe at first they would have, but they have been doing this longer than you have. It was your first time-"

"And probably my last," she negatively interrupted, taking another long swig from the bottle, placing back on the ground with more force than it needed.

"Why did I put myself in thst situation?" She asked rhetorically, on the verge of tears again, the pain clear in her voice, "I thought I knew what I was getting myself into."

"Me too," he added solomly, "when I went undercover as the FAA, I was just meant to be gathering intel, interviewing employees and checking small parts of equipment. But look what happened, I almost died- I almost frelted to death. I had no say in whether I lived or died. You did. You chose to pull the trigger and save yourself-"

"So are you now implying that it was a selfish act to pull the trigger?" Nell asked again, her temper slowly rising.

"No," Eric replied firmly, "I am not," he would never, ever tell her- or anyone- that when put through a life or death situation not to protect themselves from harm, "Nell, what kinds of people do we go up against everyday?"

"Terrorists, bomb makers, people of evil doings," she drank, "murderers, rapists," she drank again and continued, "child abusers, ex marines with PTSD that have gone off their meds, drug cartels, psyic patients, people willing to do anything for money. The list goes on."

"And why does the list go on?"

Nell drank. Swallowed. And simply pondered an answer.

"Because there are bad people in the world," she dismally responded once she had come to a conclusion.

"Exactly," Eric said, "there are bad people in the world, and bad people need good people to stop them from doing bad things. We're the good people."

"If we're the good people then how come we ruin some many lives doing what we do, and how come we kill people. I thought only bad people kill other people."

"Extreme situations call for extreme measures-"

"Sometimes," Nell interrupted again, "extreme situations sometimes call for extreme measures. The question is: was my case extreme enough?" She said turning to look at him.

"Nell," he started but she turned to look straight ahead, " the definition of extreme is: of a character or kind farthest removed from the ordinary or average. Your case most definitly qualifies," Eric explained, but as she took another long drink from the bottle, it became apparent that she was no longer listening.

He did not know what he had expected to find when he came to Nell's apartment, however her slumped in the corner of her kitchen fifteen miles past drunk, was so out of character for her that he would never consider it. He had wished it was crying. He could deal with crying. If she was crying and wishing she could take it back instead of drinking away her nightmares, hating herself and questioning her decision, he would let her cry into his shoulder. He wouldn't have cared if her mascara left black marks on his shirt, or if she just wanted him to listen to every thought that ran through her head. He couldn't handle her hating herself. Although she hadn't spoke of it he knew she was thinking it, that was why she was drinking; she was drinking to forget.

She finished off that bottle quickly then proceeded to get to her feet- presumably in search of another. Her attempts were feeble and ungraceful at best, sliding forwards she rocked backwards and using the extra momentum she rolled from her heals to the tips of her feet pulling the rest of herself from the ground as she did so. But also unceremoniously flung herself into her kitchen counter. Eric quickly stood to steady her.

"You alright?" Eric asked taking note of her iron grip on the edge of the counter.

"I'm fine," she answered defensively.

"Are you sure?"

"Why are you here, Eric?" She asked with anger laced through her voice.

"I told you before-"

"So- so what is it? Do you think that I'm a damsal in distress that needs saving and you thought that you could come and be my knight in shining armour?"

"Nell," Eric started, hurt by her words and implications of selfishness.

"No! Eric I don't want to hear an answer filled with your awkward babble, if you came here to be my knight in shining armour, don't bother, because the last person that tried turned out to be an asshole in aluminium foil."

Her head. The room. Her world was spinning and the words spilling out of her mouth weren't passing through her self- filter. She knew she was hurting Eric and she knew why she was hurting him. She was inflicting him with pain in hopes of opening up about his real reason for going above and beyond to comfort her. It was a low blow and she knew it, but it was the alcohol doing the talking, thinking and processing. Aparently her digestive tract and liver had been doing something similar but in reverse. She stumbled a few paces to the sink to do her future self the favour of not having to wipe her vomit off the counter.

Even after she had finished she hung her head over the sink letting the world sway its thudding lullaby. She even welcomed Eric's unspoken comfort- his hand on her shoulder. After a minute she raised her head, turned around and walked back a few steps to her previous spot on the floor. Eric went back to sit next to her, cautiously as if not wanting to further anger her.

"Can I ask you a question Eric?" Nell asked, her tone softer than the last words she spoke.

"Yeah, Sure."

"Is it true that the first thing that dissolves into alcohol is your dignity?"

"I'm not sure," - lie Eric said, "it's not really my field of expertise." - truth.

He'd seen his roomate in college get drunk and pass out more than enough times to know that the first thing that dissolves into alcohol is in fact your dignity.

"I'm sorry," Nell said.

"What for? Going through a hard time."

"For getting mad at you, because I had too much alcohol in my system and I needed someone to take my frustration out on," she said letting the first of many tears fall into her lap as she looked down, ashamed of herself.

"I know," he said wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. She laid her head on his shoulder.

"I just keep wishing that I had someone else to blame besides myself. When I was younger I used to always want the jobs and tasks with lots of responsibility, but know that I'm actually dealing with this much, I- I'm over whelmed and I don't know what to do, I don't know how to make myself feel better now. Maybe I should never have began training to become a field agent."

"Don't second guess yourself now, you don't make hasty decisions like that. You would have thought it through from every angle. You don't mean it," Eric comforted.

"I-. I. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I just needed an objective perspective."

"Sometimes it helps," Eric said modestly.

She focused on the frame of Eric's glasses in the reflection of the empty wine bottle sitting in front of her. She tried to steady her breathing, although the difficulty of this task may have also been due to her close proximity to Eric, but she tried not to think of it much knowing that it wouldn't help. She just focused on breathing in for three seconds, holding it for three and then releasing it for three. It may have seemed childish but, it worked. Aparently all too well, because next thing she knew she was drifting to sleep, using Eric as her human pillow. Just before she was completely gone he placed a lingering kiss on her cheek, knowing that her subconscious would register it but her concious may not.

As much as he liked the idea and fact of Nell sleeping on his shoulder, a few hours later at eleven o'clock once he had decided that she had definitely not passed out and had no chance of becoming unconscious and also that he- unlike her- had no excuse not to go into work the next day and needed some sleep before then. He knew their conversation would not put Nell at ease forever, but it was a relief to know that she was okay for now. He stood and carried Nell to her brown leather couch, placing her down gently and covering her in a throw rug, thst had previously hung over the back of the couch.

He pulled a yellow piece of paper out of his back pocket and quickly scrawlled a message on the side which wasn't already marked by her hand writing; 'Nate called me yesterday and said he was coming so expect him to drop in.'

On his way out he put the empty wine bottles in the bin and quickly ran the tap to wash the vomit down the sink. Before he left he walked back over to the couch, even when she was drunk, red-eyed and asleep she still looked beautiful.

A/N- Thanks for reading, please leave a review they make me happy, and again I'm not trying to portray Nell as an alcoholic, but I like putting characters in situations where I can play with their emotions. Let me know what you liked, what you didn't. I am also about to return to Actions and Consequences, I just wasn't very inspired recently.