Title: enya
Author: Yukito Kinomoto
Disclaimer: Don't own Grissom, nick or Sara or Kleenex for that matter.
Summary: Gris is having a tough time with a case and Nick talks him through it.
Rated: G
Feedback: Always
Nick was really beat. They were working on a serial killer's case. One who liked to target children. He felt kind of sick and he wasn't the only person on the team who felt that way. Grissom got very quiet on the last one.
Nick shook his head, people were messed up. He slouched past Grissom's office and something possessed him to stop and open the door.
Grissom was there, though he was not the normal king of his domain. Instead of ruling the darkness of his world, he seemed consumed and shrunken by it.
His shoulders were slumped and his face covered by his large dexterous hands. He didn't look up when Nick came in. The young man was not surprised by this, neither was he used to it. He didn't know if he ever would be.
"Grissom?" He tried once.
The defeated man offered no response.
Nick reached over the desk and touched Grissom's head as gently as he could. The last thing Nick wanted to do was to startle him.
His face came out of his hands slowly and Nick nearly jumped. The supervisor's eyes and cheeks were wet and the look on his face was horribly sad a pained. Nick swallowed the lump that came to his throat.
He sat down across from Grissom, "Are you okay?"
Grissom's chin went down and he gave Nick a mild glare, as if to say 'duh' before adverting his eyes. They sat in a silence neither wanted to break.
"Here Gris," Nick gave him a Kleenex out of his pocket.
"Thank you Nick."
"Wanna talk about it?"
Grissom took a deep breath and let it out. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm letting my emotions control me, it's never happened to me before."
Nick nodded empathetically, "Feels weird doesn't it? Kinda scary, but empowering too."
"I'm loosing control Nick."
"So let go."
Grissom looked up at him, "I can't do that Nick, you know that."
Nick gave him a small smile, "Yeah, I know."
It got quiet again.
"Maybe Sara and I are having a bad influence on you," Nick said lightly.
"Every criminalist has one case and I don't know why this one bothers me so much."
Nick gave him an odd look, "They're kids Gris. We're all a little pissed at this guy."
Grissom nodded.
Nick regarded the other with a sharp expression in his eyes.
"What else?"
Grissom looked startled, "What?"
"There's something else."
The older man picked his glasses up off the desk and put them on. He now regarded Nick with the same sharpness he had just been put under. "My mother died a week ago," He said flatly.
Nick's eyes perfectly reflected the pain Grissom felt.
"Oh Gris, I'm sorry. You must miss her."
Grissom's face softened, "I do."
"I lost a sister when I was nine. It'll get better Gris, it don't feel like it now, but it'll get better."
"How old was she?"
"Who? My sister? Oh, 17 or so. How old was your mom?"
"Uh . . . 76."
"How did it happen?"
"She died in her sleep."
"Oh."
Again the heavy silence descended upon the office.
"You know what helps?"
Grissom tipped his head to the side.
"enya. Lots and lots of enya."