It was quiet in the DNA lab for a change, no loud music echoing in the
halls. News about what had happened had spread and put everyone in a
somber mood. Greg was examining the blonde hairs that Dr. Robbins had sent
him, intent on helping find their latest perp. Skin tags were still
attached so hopefully they would be able to identify him quickly.
"Greg," Nick came into the lab. "Give me something, anything. What have you got so far?"
"Hey man," Greg looked up from his microscope. "Listen, I'm really sorry about your sister. Are you holding up okay?"
"Yeah, thanks," Nick said quickly, resting his palms on Greg's desk. "What can you tell me?"
Greg licked his lips, sighed and pushed his chair away from his desk to face the CSI, holding his hands up in front of him. "Look, don't shoot the messenger okay, but my hands are tied." He paused, cautiously watching for his friend's reaction. "I'm not allowed to give you anything." Nick opened his mouth to speak and Greg rushed to explain himself. "I wish I could but you're personally involved in the case Nick, and Grissom said-"
"Grissom," Nick practically growled, eyes flashing dangerously. "You cannot be serious."
"Come on Nick. You know I'd do anything for you man but Gris is right. I mean-"
Nick held up a hand to silence him. This was enough to finally push him over the edge.
"Just process the damn evidence Greg!" he snapped. "I'll be back for the results."
Greg sighed and frowned as he watched him go. He was very glad not to be in Gil Grissom's shoes at the moment.
Grissom looked up from the papers he was going over, startled when Nick pounded hard on his door a couple times before barging into his office fuming.
"Hey Grissom! What the hell do you mean I'm not allowed on my sister's case?" he demanded angrily.
Grissom sighed and took off his glasses placing them on his desk blotter. "Okay, first of all Nick, calm down."
"Calm down?" Nick raged, his blood boiling in his veins. "My sister is lying on a slab in the morgue because some sick bastard needed to get off and you're telling me to calm down?! Don't you dare fucking tell me to calm down!"
"Nick you're upset, anyone would be but you can't be on this case because you are personally involved. You know that," Grissom explained trying to be patient.
The men's raised voices had caught the attention of several people who looked up in the direction of Grissom's office.
"That's bullshit! Bullshit! And you know it! Warrick worked on that case involving the shooting of his friend's daughter. You let Catherine work on Eddie's case and whatever other damn case she pleases! You know, just because the two of you have something going on that you don't think we know about-"
"Hey! Watch it!" Grissom lost his cool, slamming his hands on his desk as he stood, startling the younger CSI into silence. "Smarten up Nick! You know better. Don't say something you're going to regret later." His voice quieted. "Look, I know how you must be feeling-"
"No you don't!" Nick shouted, raw emotion filling his voice. "You don't! You have no idea."
Grissom's heart went out to Nick when he saw him fighting back tears. He came around his desk and closed the door and came to stand in front of him.
"You're right," he said softly. "You're right, I don't have a clue. And I am truly very sorry. But Nick there is nothing I can do. Anything you touch would be compromised and that could mean whomever did this would get off. Neither of us wants that."
Nick dropped his head, and his shoulder's slumped defeated. "I know, you're right. God Grissom I'm sorry. I just." he threw his hands up, lost.
"It's alright," Grissom replied putting a hand on Nick's shoulder. "But the best I can offer is keeping you updated on our findings as they come in. I'm working on establishing an entomological timeline; Sara and Warrick are already out at the crime scene, going over it again to make sure Ecklie's guys didn't miss anything. Catherine is examining the clothing and Greg is processing all the evidence from Dr. Robbins. And Brass has contacted her husband to bring him in so we can try and find out why she was here. We're doing all we can Nick, okay? I've told them all that this is the only case we'll be working on."
Nick nodded, wiping his sore eyes. "God, I am so sick of crying." He sighed miserably. "What can I do then?"
"Go home," Grissom said. "Get some rest Nicky."
"Gris, I-I can't just do nothing."
"Your family is going to need you Nick and you're going to need your strength for that. Go home for now, I promise I will page you as soon as we find anything."
Nick wanted to argue that he should be there but he found himself to be just too exhausted. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded reluctantly.
"Attaboy," Grissom said quietly, patting him gently on the back as he led him over to the door. "I think it will do you good to get out of here for a little while."
"You'll page me?" He turned to Grissom in the hallway his eyes pleading.
"I will," Grissom promised. "And Nicky?"
"Yeah?"
"We'll get him."
Nick nodded and slowly turned away. He made his way to the locker room in a daze, grabbed his jacket and went out to his Tahoe. It had started to drizzle but he hardly noticed. He climbed into his truck and slammed the door but just sat there for a while, staring straight ahead. The light from the streetlamp in the parking lot caused the rain drops that landed on the windshield to cast bizarre shadows on his face, their trails mimicking the tears that Nick had already cried that night. Finally he started the car and deciding he wasn't ready to go home, drove around the city aimlessly for a while before heading to his place on autopilot.
Letting himself into his small house he dropped his keys on the counter, kicked off his shoes and let his leather jacket fall to the floor. He grabbed an ice pack from his freezer and wincing he gently held it on his bruised knuckles to ease the swelling. As tired as he felt he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if he went to bed so he grabbed a Corona from the fridge, dropped onto his couch and found a Dallas Stars game on television. He just stared at the screen and zoned out, not really seeing or hearing what was happening, occasionally taking a sip of his beer.
Eventually dozing off, he was startled out of a restless, but thankfully dreamless sleep about an hour later by a knocking at his door.
"Greg," Nick came into the lab. "Give me something, anything. What have you got so far?"
"Hey man," Greg looked up from his microscope. "Listen, I'm really sorry about your sister. Are you holding up okay?"
"Yeah, thanks," Nick said quickly, resting his palms on Greg's desk. "What can you tell me?"
Greg licked his lips, sighed and pushed his chair away from his desk to face the CSI, holding his hands up in front of him. "Look, don't shoot the messenger okay, but my hands are tied." He paused, cautiously watching for his friend's reaction. "I'm not allowed to give you anything." Nick opened his mouth to speak and Greg rushed to explain himself. "I wish I could but you're personally involved in the case Nick, and Grissom said-"
"Grissom," Nick practically growled, eyes flashing dangerously. "You cannot be serious."
"Come on Nick. You know I'd do anything for you man but Gris is right. I mean-"
Nick held up a hand to silence him. This was enough to finally push him over the edge.
"Just process the damn evidence Greg!" he snapped. "I'll be back for the results."
Greg sighed and frowned as he watched him go. He was very glad not to be in Gil Grissom's shoes at the moment.
Grissom looked up from the papers he was going over, startled when Nick pounded hard on his door a couple times before barging into his office fuming.
"Hey Grissom! What the hell do you mean I'm not allowed on my sister's case?" he demanded angrily.
Grissom sighed and took off his glasses placing them on his desk blotter. "Okay, first of all Nick, calm down."
"Calm down?" Nick raged, his blood boiling in his veins. "My sister is lying on a slab in the morgue because some sick bastard needed to get off and you're telling me to calm down?! Don't you dare fucking tell me to calm down!"
"Nick you're upset, anyone would be but you can't be on this case because you are personally involved. You know that," Grissom explained trying to be patient.
The men's raised voices had caught the attention of several people who looked up in the direction of Grissom's office.
"That's bullshit! Bullshit! And you know it! Warrick worked on that case involving the shooting of his friend's daughter. You let Catherine work on Eddie's case and whatever other damn case she pleases! You know, just because the two of you have something going on that you don't think we know about-"
"Hey! Watch it!" Grissom lost his cool, slamming his hands on his desk as he stood, startling the younger CSI into silence. "Smarten up Nick! You know better. Don't say something you're going to regret later." His voice quieted. "Look, I know how you must be feeling-"
"No you don't!" Nick shouted, raw emotion filling his voice. "You don't! You have no idea."
Grissom's heart went out to Nick when he saw him fighting back tears. He came around his desk and closed the door and came to stand in front of him.
"You're right," he said softly. "You're right, I don't have a clue. And I am truly very sorry. But Nick there is nothing I can do. Anything you touch would be compromised and that could mean whomever did this would get off. Neither of us wants that."
Nick dropped his head, and his shoulder's slumped defeated. "I know, you're right. God Grissom I'm sorry. I just." he threw his hands up, lost.
"It's alright," Grissom replied putting a hand on Nick's shoulder. "But the best I can offer is keeping you updated on our findings as they come in. I'm working on establishing an entomological timeline; Sara and Warrick are already out at the crime scene, going over it again to make sure Ecklie's guys didn't miss anything. Catherine is examining the clothing and Greg is processing all the evidence from Dr. Robbins. And Brass has contacted her husband to bring him in so we can try and find out why she was here. We're doing all we can Nick, okay? I've told them all that this is the only case we'll be working on."
Nick nodded, wiping his sore eyes. "God, I am so sick of crying." He sighed miserably. "What can I do then?"
"Go home," Grissom said. "Get some rest Nicky."
"Gris, I-I can't just do nothing."
"Your family is going to need you Nick and you're going to need your strength for that. Go home for now, I promise I will page you as soon as we find anything."
Nick wanted to argue that he should be there but he found himself to be just too exhausted. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded reluctantly.
"Attaboy," Grissom said quietly, patting him gently on the back as he led him over to the door. "I think it will do you good to get out of here for a little while."
"You'll page me?" He turned to Grissom in the hallway his eyes pleading.
"I will," Grissom promised. "And Nicky?"
"Yeah?"
"We'll get him."
Nick nodded and slowly turned away. He made his way to the locker room in a daze, grabbed his jacket and went out to his Tahoe. It had started to drizzle but he hardly noticed. He climbed into his truck and slammed the door but just sat there for a while, staring straight ahead. The light from the streetlamp in the parking lot caused the rain drops that landed on the windshield to cast bizarre shadows on his face, their trails mimicking the tears that Nick had already cried that night. Finally he started the car and deciding he wasn't ready to go home, drove around the city aimlessly for a while before heading to his place on autopilot.
Letting himself into his small house he dropped his keys on the counter, kicked off his shoes and let his leather jacket fall to the floor. He grabbed an ice pack from his freezer and wincing he gently held it on his bruised knuckles to ease the swelling. As tired as he felt he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if he went to bed so he grabbed a Corona from the fridge, dropped onto his couch and found a Dallas Stars game on television. He just stared at the screen and zoned out, not really seeing or hearing what was happening, occasionally taking a sip of his beer.
Eventually dozing off, he was startled out of a restless, but thankfully dreamless sleep about an hour later by a knocking at his door.