XIX - ISLANDS
Nick just drove. Nowhere in particular. Just drove.
He knew, eventually, he would end up back at his place – he had told Grissom that's where he would be; if nothing else, Nick was a man of his word.
Smiling grimly, he flicked on his CD player, listened for a few minutes, and flicked it off. He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel, and pulled into a new lane of traffic, saluting the bonehead who flipped him the bird as he leaned on his horn and swore at him.
Nick felt oddly happy. He didn't understand what had just happened, but he knew it was good. He had been feeling under-appreciated for a couple of years now. He had been wanting to tell Grissom for months that just because he had a southern accent, was from Texas and had a life outside work didn't mean he was stupid.
Yet, when Grissom had implied during their argument back at the office that there was nothing he could learn from Nick, he had felt hurt. Grissom's terse 'that would be a first' had stung, because if had gone straight to the heart of Nick's insecurities about his own abilities. No one took him seriously, and it bothered him. He was sick of feeling like the lowest rung on the ladder.
He didn't know as much as Grissom – but who did? He wasn't as suave as Warrick – but who was? And Catherine – she knew about life, and had a great wealth of different experiences to draw from. Sara – just all around smart. The girl was like a sponge, soaking up knowledge. They all had their areas of specialty that Grissom respected – except Nick.
No one realized his area of specialty was people – he understood people at an intrinsic level, knew how they felt, what made them tick. His casual observations of victims and criminals over the past few years had been valuable to many of their cases, but no one recognized it as his specialty.
Nick had been a CSI III for two years now, and Grissom still hadn't really let him go solo on a meaty case. Grissom had told him once that Nick just wasn't ready, but Nick knew that wasn't true. Sara had gone solo, and she wasn't even level III yet. Nick didn't begrudge her, of course. She was damned smart. She was a good CSI – her instincts were right on. She deserved to work solo. But so did he. Not only that, he deserved respect – the same respect he gave everyone else he worked with.
At the same time, he knew that Grissom hadn't exactly been thinking rationally during their little argument, and it amused him. It wasn't often that anyone got to see Grissom emote. Grissom was always in control, but his obvious jealousy over the whole 'Sara' situation had made him lose it. It was nice to know that Grissom was actually human. Nick had always suspected that Grissom could be irrational, but had never been able to prove it. Now he had. He had just needed to find the right buttons to push.
Nick had suspected from the moment Sara had shown up in Las Vegas that Grissom's orderly life was about to be turned on its ear. When Grissom had announced two years ago that he was bringing in a 'friend' to investigate the circumstances surrounding Holly Gribbs death, Nick had been intrigued. Grissom didn't have 'friends' that he knew of – co-workers, peers, sure. Bugs – God yes. But friends? He knew there was something more to that particular story.
Sara's arrival hadn't disappointed. He had been throwing dummies of the roof of a hotel when she had arrived, and Grissom had forgotten he had on a two-way headset.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Norman pushed…Norman jumped…Norman Fell…"
"Wouldn't you, if you were married to Mrs. Roper?"
"I don't even need to turn around…Sara Sidle…"
Chit-chat, soft feminine tones, and then…
"God Sara, I have so many unanswered whys."
Up on the rooftop, Nick had grinned.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Nick had liked Sara from the start. What wasn't to like? She was smart, abrupt, intense – just like Grissom, only prettier. Nick had always liked Grissom - the man had always intrigued him. From his first day with the crime lab here in Las Vegas, the enigma that was Grissom had puzzled him. Nick recognized genius when he saw it, and he knew Grissom could teach him more about Forensics than he could ever learn from anyone else, so he had taken to studying him. Learning from him. Grissom had become his mentor. And in his intense study of the man, Nick had come to realize that Grissom, while trying to hold himself aloof, probably felt things and experienced things more intensely than anyone else he knew – including himself. But where he, or Warrick or Catherine would get frustrated – would scream, or cry, or go out and do something crazy to blow off steam – Grissom would just internalize it all; lock things away and try to pretend he didn't feel.
That's why the man had killer migraines. That's why he had a reputation around the lab as a socially-awkward – but brilliant – science geek. That's why he needed Sara – she was a socially-awkward science geek too – and she could teach him how to feel. Despite all Grissom's best efforts to remain in control and aloof, Sara still managed to get under his skin. Grissom could fool himself all he wanted, but he couldn't fool Nick. Nick was an experienced 'people-watcher', and he recognized the signs – Grissom loved Sara. Sara loved Grissom. Getting the two of them together would be easy, if it wasn't so hard.
Nick huffed out an annoyed laugh at that, and smiled as he recognized how close he was to his house. He'd taken a circuitous route to get there, driving on auto-pilot the majority of the time, but here he was. Humming to himself, he pulled into his driveway and entered his house.
* * * * *
"Sara, come on in," Grissom had muttered darkly as his door slammed behind her, before he turned back to the file he had been reading. He had decided to ignore her. The last thing he needed to hear right now was her sticking up for Nick, even though Grissom recognized that Nick had been correct.
Ignoring her was easier said than done, however. She stood in front of his desk, legs braced, toe tapping in agitation, arms crossed. Grissom felt her dark gaze burning a hole through his head. She had called him an ass.
Sighing in frustration, he made an elaborate show of pretending to finish the report he was reading, before folding it neatly and replacing it in the folder on his desk. Waving slightly at the empty seat in front of him, he indicated she should sit down, before looking up at her when she refused to do so.
"Don't you have something better to be doing right now?" he finally asked, looking at her from over the rim of his glasses.
"At this exact moment in time, no. But you do."
"And what would that be?"
"Apologizing to Nick."
Grissom just grunted, "I don't need to apologize to him."
Sara sighed angrily, "Yes, Grissom, you do. Do you realize you just basically told Nick that you didn't think he was intelligent – and everyone heard you?"
"You shouldn't have been eavesdropping," Grissom retorted.
"We were walking by in the hallway when you started yelling at him," Sara replied. "He told you he had a theory, you refused to let him explain it, and then you told him he had nothing to say to you that was worthwhile."
"I didn't say that, I said -"
"'That would be a first!'" Sara interrupted him. "He told you he had an idea, and you shot him down. You implied Nick would never contribute anything to the conversation you could 'learn' from, and when he said he was sick of trying to earn respect from you, you..you.." Sara stopped. "You made him feel worthless, Gil, when you didn't deny it."
It was the use of his name that caught him off guard, along with the sudden defeat in her tone. Grissom took his glasses off and pretended to clean them, before looking at Sara again. "I don't want him to hurt you, Sara."
Sara scoffed at that, "The only person with the power here to hurt anyone is you, Grissom. And you don't realize it. Nick would never hurt me. But you? You go through life, studying your bugs, being all enigmatic and brilliant – and you never let anyone in. Well, I'm sick of it, so I'm going to tell you something – Nick was only trying to help me. He had this theory that you were interested in me, and he decided that flirting with me – making you think we were seeing each other - would force you to admit it."
Grissom stared at Sara in shock. "Why would he do that?"
"Because he's my friend, and he's tired of seeing me throw myself at you with no response," Sara retorted. "This – whatever it is – either needs to go forward or it needs to stop. You're killing me, Grissom. One day, you talk to me. The next day you don't. You flirt – then ignore me. You don't believe me when I tell you I'm not seeing anyone. I can't take it anymore. You either want me, or you don't. Nick was just trying to get you to admit you want me." Sara's words were like arrows, piercing Grissom's armor. Her tone was intense; her breathing rapid. Every once in a while, her voice would break – but she never tore her eyes away from Grissom's. "Or is it that you only want me when you think someone else does?"
"Sara," Grissom began, but stopped when she raised a hand.
"Don't. Just – don't. I don't want to hear anything you have to say right now. I'm sorry I let Nick talk me into this little scheme of his, only because it ended up hurting him – and he is the last person in the world I would ever want to see hurt. This whole situation is humiliating enough as it is. I'm going to find Nick."
Grissom rose to his feet, "Sara – I'm sorry. I didn't realize -"
"And that's the problem, isn't it Grissom? You never 'realize', until it's too late. Well, I got news for you – I'm not gum to be scrapped off your shoe, and neither is Nick."
* * * * *
Catherine, Brass and Warrick sat in the break room, silently drinking coffee. Finally, Brass spoke up.
"Wow. That was intense."
Catherine just looked at him, "Sara's probably giving him hell right now!"
"Who knew Grissom could lose his temper like that?" Warrick added dryly, "Or that Nick would tell him off?"
"It's been a long time coming, I think," Catherine replied.
Brass just shook his head, "I warned him. So – about this theory of Nick's – I suppose I should try to get a warrant for a sample of Marta's DNA so we can see if his theory pans out."
"What can we base the warrant request on? We have no physical evidence linking Marta to anything, just some vague suspicions based on her body size and the fact that none of us seem to like her that much," Catherine sighed.
Brass tapped the side of his nose and winked, "Well, we do know where she's going to be later today. We know she dyes her hair, and according to Audra's husband, she was supposed to meet Audra the night of the murder. She hasn't met you yet, Cath. Maybe you can shadow her at 'Chez Cheveaux' – get a hair sample from the trimmings left on the floor. We can compare it to the hair from the air vent, and if it's a match it will be easy to get a warrant."
"Sounds good," Catherine smirked, "I've always wanted to go there. A hair style from a real professional at the lab's expense sounds like good cover to me."
Warrick just shook his head, "You jumped all over that one. But it might not even be necessary - we're still waiting to see who Miles called from the complimentary phone at Icarus. Maybe it was Marta."
Catherine looked at her watch, before grinning and tapping Warrick on the knee, "Why don't you work on that aspect, and see what you can find out about Marta Fitzroy and Mr. Miles, and I'll head over to the salon and make an appointment. That okay with you, Brass?"
Brass smiled back, "Catherine, Grissom is upset enough as it is without you spending a couple hundred of the labs discretionary funds to get a haircut."
Catherine rolled her eyes, "Killjoy."
Brass laughed as he stood and walked out of the break room. Warrick watched him leave, before turning to Catherine and placing his large hand over her own and squeezing gently.
"Don't do anything to your hair – it's perfect as it is."
* * * * *
Grissom was sitting in his office, staring at the open doorway, when Brass stuck his head in the door, "Is it safe to come in?"
Grissom blinked slowly, letting his shuttered gaze drift to his friend, "What?"
"You realize we're all pulling doubles again," Brass began, "Catherine is headed out to follow up on Nick's lead, and Warrick is going to do some research. I'm assuming Sara left?" Brass just nodded when Grissom didn't respond, "Yeah. I thought so. So, what are you going to do about this, Grissom?"
Grissom sighed, "Do about what, Jim?"
"Nick. Sara. What are you going to do?"
"Nick will be back when shift starts. I'll talk to him then. I shouldn't have jumped off the handle."
"Don't you think you should take the opportunity to go to his place and talk to him before shift? What if he decides not to come in?"
"He won't. He's reliable," Grissom retorted.
"You ever told him that?"
Grissom shook his head, and Brass smiled in commiseration, "Well, all I have to say – it's nice to see you're human."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Brass shrugged, "It means what it means, Grissom. Of course, learning that you are human has probably come as a shock to you. You've been an automaton for so long now, to actually risk exposing yourself has to be somewhat intimidating."
Grissom frowned, "I'm not an automaton."
Brass rolled his eyes. "You're missing the point, Gil. Nick sees it – I see it – we all see it. You cut yourself off from life. You don't have real relationships with anyone. You have no idea how hard it is to be your friend."
"If it's so hard, why bother trying?"
Brass grinned at Grissom's peevish tone, "Because we're roughly the same age, and we're surrounded by young Turks – I think we have to stick together, show them who's boss. Listen, I'm not saying this to hurt you – I just want you to understand that your team looks up to you. They emulate you – especially Nick. And you do sometimes tend to treat us all like we're not quite as smart as you." Brass held up his hand before Grissom could object, "I know we're not as smart as you, but couldn't you pretend every once in a while? Take the time to see how hard your people work for your approval, Grissom. Remember to give it to them. Reach out and grab the life that's waiting there for you. These people won't be here forever. Sooner or later, they'll get tired of waiting, and they'll start to resent you. Perhaps Nick already does."
"Sara told me -"
Brass interrupted, "And that's another thing – Sara. The only person you're fooling in regards to her is yourself. We all see it. And you know what? No one seems to think you and Sara getting together would be a bad thing – except you. I know I made a couple of comments regarding older men and younger woman during the last few days, but that's just my general cynicism. In the real world, it happens."
He rose to his feet, and reached into a pocket, retrieving a stick of gum and popping it into his mouth. "Last thing I wanted to know – you know Paul Simon or Art Garfunkel?"
Grissom looked at Brass, confusion at this abrupt change of conversation evident, "What are you talking about Jim?"
"Simon and Garfunkel. I think they wrote a song all about you – it's called 'I Am a Rock'." Grinning at Grissom's snort, Brass exited his office, humming under his breath.
___________________
Author's note:
Yeah, I know – lots of talking in this chapter and no real action. Sorry – but this little ploy needed to come out in the open, and I liked the idea of Sara being so pissed at Grissom that she's the one that spills the beans. Hopefully, y'all won't have to wait so long for the next chapter – I got a new computer, and so far it's bug free! Please R&R – let me know what you think – I'm wondering if I should redo this chapter, and depending on feedback might fiddle with it again soon.