A/N: Ok I know Nick and Sara seemed to be moving a bit fast in the last
chapter and I know that Nick overreacted, that's the whole point. I'm
trying to show that he's going through a roller coaster of emotions, from
one extreme to the other and may not always be thinking rationally and you
will see this develop in future chapters. He did after all just discover
his big sister is dead. If this offends anyone, all I can say is no like-
y, no read-y. If you want, I'll change the rating, just let me know. Oh,
and A Bloom, it was his index (pointer) finger, not his middle finger ;)
***
Nick stormed down the hallway avoiding all the curious and sympathetic glances from the other lab workers, his jaw set tightly. His hands were balled fists at his sides. Anger was coursing through his veins like a fever. He was angry with Sara, angry with his sister, and angry at the whole goddamned world that seemed to have set itself against him tonight. Most of all though, he was angry with himself.
Slamming into the men's room, he went to the sink and let the water run icy cold before splashing it on his face. Bracing his arms on the sink he hung his head trying to get his breathing and emotions under control.
How could she do that to him? Why her? The one woman he was rapidly becoming convinced that he had fallen completely in love with had completely dismissed his feelings as meaningless. Did she really think that he was that needy? That he was so pathetic, why not give him a good old roll in the hay to make him feel better about himself? His teeth started to grind painfully and his eyes squeezed shut.
He shouldn't have said what he did though he knew that and regretted that the words had come out of his mouth. She had been trying to talk to him, pleading to explain herself, when he'd hit her with that. Had he jumped to conclusions? He was so emotional right now he was having great trouble sorting his thoughts. But the hurt in her eyes. Christ, he had seen that and it broke his heart, but his goddamn pride had made him continue out the door. She wasn't that type of person. Jesus what had he done? How could it ever be all right between them again?
He looked up at his reflection in the mirror. Deep dark lines framed his grimacing mouth; his eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed. His skin was drawn tight against his face, pale except for two flushed spots of color on his cheekbones and the puffy and bruised looking skin under his eyes.
All of a sudden he hauled off and slammed his fist into the mirror, leaving a spider web of cracks in the center of his face; a few shards of the broken glass made tinkling sounds as they landed in the porcelain sink. He somewhat relished the flash of pain that flared across his knuckles and traveled up to his elbow and a mirthless grin flickered briefly across his mouth.
As torn as he was there was one thing he knew for sure. Right now he had to know what had happened to Rachel. Exiting the washroom, he turned in the direction of the morgue.
"Nick?"
He cringed slightly and looked over his shoulder to see Catherine and Warrick coming towards him. Sighing inwardly, he turned to greet them not really wanting to talk with anyone right now. Awkwardly he accepted Catherine's hug.
"I'm so sorry Nicky," she said, giving him a squeeze before pulling away. "So, so sorry."
Yeah, you and everyone else, he thought bitterly and immediately felt guilty. Catherine was only being the kind and concerned motherly woman she was. She had proved on more than one occasion just how much she cared about him. All of his friends had. Now though he just wanted to get going on his sister's case.
"Thank you Cath," he said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his haggard eyes.
"Hey, if you need anything, man," Warrick put a hand on his shoulder. "Anything at all, just holler, alright?"
"Yeah, thanks. I'll uh, see you guys later okay?" He gave them a curt nod and turned to go.
"Wait Nick," Catherine stopped him.
"What?" His voice was tired and impatient.
"You're bleeding," she pointed to his hand. A trail of blood was starting to dry in a track from his knuckle to the end of his middle finger.
He grunted, somewhat surprised. He hadn't even noticed the small but deep cuts across and between his knuckles. "Just a scratch I guess," he said dismissively. "No big deal." He rinsed his hand in the water fountain, dried his hand on his jeans and slowly wiggled his fingers experimentally, wincing slightly.
This didn't go unnoticed by Catherine who watched him speculatively. She wanted to follow her natural instinct to protect and take care of him but she knew better. Until he made it clear that he wanted those things it was better to leave him alone. Especially right now it seemed, judging by his erratic behavior.
"Okay," she said after a moment. She really didn't like the way he was acting. Obviously she realized he wouldn't be his normal self, he had after all just lost a family member, but she sensed that there was something else. "Hey, do you know where Sara is?"
His eyes snapped to hers and darkened. "No I don't," he said sharply and continued on his way.
Catherine sighed deeply. "I'm really worried about him," she said quietly, speaking mostly to herself as she fingered the chain she was wearing; Lindsey had given to her for mother's day last year.
"He's had a rough day Catherine, but he'll be okay," he said in his low- timbered voice, hoping he was doing a better job convincing her than he was himself. "I'm gonna hit the little boy's room. I'll meet you in Trace."
Pushing through the swinging door he immediately noticed the broken mirror. "'Just a scratch' my ass," he said. Looking beleaguered, he sighed deeply and hoped with all his heart that Nick would be all right.
*** A/N: I know, I know, I really didn't resolve anything in this chappy but I promise I will in the nearby future. ;)
***
Nick stormed down the hallway avoiding all the curious and sympathetic glances from the other lab workers, his jaw set tightly. His hands were balled fists at his sides. Anger was coursing through his veins like a fever. He was angry with Sara, angry with his sister, and angry at the whole goddamned world that seemed to have set itself against him tonight. Most of all though, he was angry with himself.
Slamming into the men's room, he went to the sink and let the water run icy cold before splashing it on his face. Bracing his arms on the sink he hung his head trying to get his breathing and emotions under control.
How could she do that to him? Why her? The one woman he was rapidly becoming convinced that he had fallen completely in love with had completely dismissed his feelings as meaningless. Did she really think that he was that needy? That he was so pathetic, why not give him a good old roll in the hay to make him feel better about himself? His teeth started to grind painfully and his eyes squeezed shut.
He shouldn't have said what he did though he knew that and regretted that the words had come out of his mouth. She had been trying to talk to him, pleading to explain herself, when he'd hit her with that. Had he jumped to conclusions? He was so emotional right now he was having great trouble sorting his thoughts. But the hurt in her eyes. Christ, he had seen that and it broke his heart, but his goddamn pride had made him continue out the door. She wasn't that type of person. Jesus what had he done? How could it ever be all right between them again?
He looked up at his reflection in the mirror. Deep dark lines framed his grimacing mouth; his eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed. His skin was drawn tight against his face, pale except for two flushed spots of color on his cheekbones and the puffy and bruised looking skin under his eyes.
All of a sudden he hauled off and slammed his fist into the mirror, leaving a spider web of cracks in the center of his face; a few shards of the broken glass made tinkling sounds as they landed in the porcelain sink. He somewhat relished the flash of pain that flared across his knuckles and traveled up to his elbow and a mirthless grin flickered briefly across his mouth.
As torn as he was there was one thing he knew for sure. Right now he had to know what had happened to Rachel. Exiting the washroom, he turned in the direction of the morgue.
"Nick?"
He cringed slightly and looked over his shoulder to see Catherine and Warrick coming towards him. Sighing inwardly, he turned to greet them not really wanting to talk with anyone right now. Awkwardly he accepted Catherine's hug.
"I'm so sorry Nicky," she said, giving him a squeeze before pulling away. "So, so sorry."
Yeah, you and everyone else, he thought bitterly and immediately felt guilty. Catherine was only being the kind and concerned motherly woman she was. She had proved on more than one occasion just how much she cared about him. All of his friends had. Now though he just wanted to get going on his sister's case.
"Thank you Cath," he said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his haggard eyes.
"Hey, if you need anything, man," Warrick put a hand on his shoulder. "Anything at all, just holler, alright?"
"Yeah, thanks. I'll uh, see you guys later okay?" He gave them a curt nod and turned to go.
"Wait Nick," Catherine stopped him.
"What?" His voice was tired and impatient.
"You're bleeding," she pointed to his hand. A trail of blood was starting to dry in a track from his knuckle to the end of his middle finger.
He grunted, somewhat surprised. He hadn't even noticed the small but deep cuts across and between his knuckles. "Just a scratch I guess," he said dismissively. "No big deal." He rinsed his hand in the water fountain, dried his hand on his jeans and slowly wiggled his fingers experimentally, wincing slightly.
This didn't go unnoticed by Catherine who watched him speculatively. She wanted to follow her natural instinct to protect and take care of him but she knew better. Until he made it clear that he wanted those things it was better to leave him alone. Especially right now it seemed, judging by his erratic behavior.
"Okay," she said after a moment. She really didn't like the way he was acting. Obviously she realized he wouldn't be his normal self, he had after all just lost a family member, but she sensed that there was something else. "Hey, do you know where Sara is?"
His eyes snapped to hers and darkened. "No I don't," he said sharply and continued on his way.
Catherine sighed deeply. "I'm really worried about him," she said quietly, speaking mostly to herself as she fingered the chain she was wearing; Lindsey had given to her for mother's day last year.
"He's had a rough day Catherine, but he'll be okay," he said in his low- timbered voice, hoping he was doing a better job convincing her than he was himself. "I'm gonna hit the little boy's room. I'll meet you in Trace."
Pushing through the swinging door he immediately noticed the broken mirror. "'Just a scratch' my ass," he said. Looking beleaguered, he sighed deeply and hoped with all his heart that Nick would be all right.
*** A/N: I know, I know, I really didn't resolve anything in this chappy but I promise I will in the nearby future. ;)