Enmity

By EB

©2004

Chapter Five

"'Contrariwise,' continued Tweedledee, 'if it was so, it might be, and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic!'"

(Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass)

Catherine walked up to stand next to him. "So. You know, Nick's a pretty decent housekeeper."

Gil nodded, but couldn't smile. "Kitchen first?"

"I got the pantry."

"I'll start with the fridge."

Without any clue what exactly they were looking for, they'd decided to sample pretty much everything. That meant a great deal of work, all of it unofficial at this point. But when Catherine shrugged and called the babysitter, Gil figured it would be churlish of him to mention that fact again. This was one of their own. Nick was worth it.

A few hours later, Nick's neat apartment was a disaster area. The counters and tables were covered with the contents of his refrigerator, freezer, pantry, cabinets. The bathroom was ransacked, and superstitiously Gil had even included a sample from each of the four bottles of cologne on the dresser in Nick's bedroom.

"I doubt he eats that," Catherine observed dryly. But when he glanced at her she was smiling. "What the hell. We'll be thorough."

Back in the main living area, Gil yanked off one glove and sighed. "Tell you what. When we're done, I'll call my cleaning service. Nick won't be home for a few days at least."

"It's the stand-up thing to do."

"Right."

Laden with more samples than Gil could remember collecting from any crime scenes recently, they unloaded at the lab near six that evening. "Well, it's a start," Catherine said, eyeing their loot. "Better hope it's a slow night."

Whether fortune or maybe God was listening, Gil didn't know, but it turned out to be, if not precisely slow, at least not a heavy night. Sometime after midnight he straightened from his crouch over the microscope, hearing his back pop with tired affront. A shadow in the doorway caught his eye, and he glanced over.

"What's up?" Warrick asked, slowly walking inside.

"Not a hell of a lot." Gil took his glasses off and sighed. "A wild goose chase, evidently. I'm not done yet."

"This has to do with Nick, right?"

Gil nodded, and Warrick shook his head, leaning one hip against the table. "So you gonna tell me what, or you gonna make me guess? Because I got a few ideas. None of 'em pretty."

"Close the door?"

With a narrow look Warrick did, and Gil drew a cautious breath. "I'm not convinced Nick's illness is entirely natural," he told him in a very low voice.

Warrick gave a slow nod. "My guess was right, then."

"This," Gil added, gesturing at the table, "is everything Catherine and I could sample from Nick's apartment. So far, nothing."

"So what's with the cloak and dagger? Man, you don't think it's someone around here?"

"Actually, no. I suppose…I'm being overly cautious." Gil gnawed on his lower lip for a moment. "Trouble is, I don't have even the beginnings of a theory. At this point the only person I can rule out is myself."

"Hey, watch it now." Warrick crossed his arms.

"All right. Catherine, you, and myself. Better?"

"Lots. But listen, I mean, who'd want to hurt Nick? He's a good guy, Grissom. He ain't perfect, but last time I checked his list of enemies was real short."

Gil looked alertly at him. "So there's a list?"

"No, man, I mean – That's what I'm saying. Nobody around here, that's for sure." Warrick shrugged. "Outside the lab? Nobody I know of." His eyes narrowed, and he frowned. "Wait. What about the whacko who stalked him couple years back?"

"Nigel Crane?"

"Yeah. He in prison yet?"

Gil shook his head. "State hospital. Nick testified last year, remember? Crane is most definitely out of pocket. Besides, this wasn't his modus operandi."

"True. Still." Warrick's expression darkened. "If there's one thing about Stokes we all noticed, it's that he draws the shit. Maybe he picked up another freak we don't know about."

"I haven't been able to talk to him yet, not really." Gil nodded slowly. "He'll be out of MICU tomorrow, hopefully. I'll check in the morning."

"So what can I do?"

Gil smiled. "You? Can help keep this lab going while I'm working on this. How'd tonight go?"

"So far so good. That jumper was a suicide, guarantee. Nothing left but the crying."

"Check with Brass."

"Will do. Say, tell Nick I'll be by later, all right?"

"I will."

At eight the next morning Gil pointed the Tahoe in the direction of Desert Palms, Catherine's last words still ringing in his ears. "You don't get some sleep, Grissom, you and Nick can share a damn suite at the hospital. Promise you'll go home after you talk to him again?"

He'd promised, and he meant to keep it. It had been almost four in the morning before he'd wrapped up his analyses. And all he had to show for it was a big fat nothing.

Warrick was right. It didn't make any sense. There was no motive Gil could determine, no one who particularly stood to gain by Nick's being out of commission, or even dead. Certainly there had been some tense times at the lab not that long ago. The competition for the misbegotten promotion had left both Nick and Sara with minor wounds, and Gil hadn't been alone in noting that neither colleague seemed overly eager to work with the other recently. But outright acrimony had never happened, and Nick's good-humored acceptance of what had ultimately not come to pass for either had had its effect on Sara, too. They seemed to have made the best of a very bad deal.

Aside from that, though, Nick was truthfully the most affable of any of Gil's co-workers. No, it simply didn't add up.

Outside the lab? Who knew?

He accelerated through a yellow light and reached up to adjust his sunglasses. Time to confront Nick with that question, if he was up to it this morning.

He found the man in question in his new private room, on the ninth floor this time. Gil tapped on the door and heard Nick say, "Yeah," and walked inside.

"Hey, it's a party," Nick said with a slanted smile.

Gil smiled at Nick's company, which included Jim Brass, Greg Sanders, and a sweet-looking blonde woman he vaguely recognized from the coroner's office. Amanda something. "I should have brought a cake," Gil observed, walking over to stand near the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good."

But studying him acutely, Gil didn't see quite the return to hale and hearty health Nick had enjoyed by the end of his previous hospital stay. Nick looked tired, and his drawn cheeks held no color. His dark eyes were sunken, and underscored with bluish smudges. And the hand raised to shake Gil's was palsied, perhaps less than before but unmistakable.

"Told Nicky here, if he wanted a vacation, should have just asked." Brass was smiling, and Gil tried not to see the shadow of pity in the man's eyes. "Been a lot easier."

"Not to mention cheaper," Greg added. His grin was a lot less freighted than Brass's. Maybe he hadn't seen as many seriously ill people in his life. Gil wasn't sure.

"Depends on where you go," Nick told him with a raised eyebrow.

"Speaking of going." Brass sighed and shook his head. "I am, home." He walked over to the bed, and took Nick's trembling hand. "Rest up, Nicky. Call if you need anything."

"Will do. Thanks for stopping by."

"My pleasure." Brass glanced at Gil on his way out, his company smile fading to grimness. Gil gave him a short nod.

"Okay, I guess that's our cue." Greg went over to do some kind of complicated handshake, too, and Gil saw the blonde girl's patently affectionate look. Not in Nick's direction, either. So her presence was a courtesy call. It didn't take watching her grab Greg's hand a moment later to confirm it. "See you later, man. Take it easy."

"You know it." Nick smiled at the girl, and waved, and suddenly there wasn't anyone else there. He looked at Grissom, and it hurt to see his game smile waver and collapse. "So." There was a world of anxiety in that one syllable.

Gil nodded and scooted one of the chairs nearer to the bed. He felt exhausted suddenly, tired to the bone. "What does the doctor say?"

"Not much yet. Hey, at least I got my own room again."

"True."

"So, I mean. Tell me. What's going on."

Gil met his frightened eyes squarely. "Nothing solid," he said as gently as he could. "I could be wrong, Nicky. I've been wrong before."

Nick swallowed. "Not that often."

"Catherine and I went to your house yesterday. I should have asked first, but –"

"No." Nick shook his head. "No, it's okay. What -- Did you find anything?"

"Not so far. Nick, I need you to think about this. Can you think of anyone who might mean you harm? Anyone at all?"

Nick's tongue snuck out to wet his cracked lower lip. "Believe me, I've been thinking about that," he said in a quenched voice. "But man, I dunno. You asking if I got any enemies?"

Gil nodded. "Anyone at all."

"Look, I mean, how would I know?" Nick's hand twitched on the bedclothes, fingers opening and closing over and over again. "Never had anybody walk up and say, 'Watch your back, I'm gonna kill you one of these days.' I mean, mostly I just keep my head down and do my job, you know?"

"What about off the job? Friends? Old girlfriends?"

Nick visibly thought about it. "I went out with a few people, sure," he said slowly. "I mean, everybody I know is in my Day-timer."

"I didn't see that at your house."

"In my locker. At the lab."

Gil nodded. "Anyone in particular?"

"No. I went out with this gal, Julie, a few times a couple months ago. Really nice woman. But she's moving, and I haven't seen her in a while. She may already be gone."

"You hang out with anyone?"

"Couple of guys from the gym. We play racquetball a few times a month. There's softball, but we're not playing right now. Don't start up again until May."

Gil made himself nod, hiding his disappointment. "You're right," he said quietly. "Nothing leaps out."

"I'm not saying I'm a saint." Nick snorted, and cleared his throat raspily. "But I can't think of anybody who'd do – this. Hell no."

"Okay. Nicky, all I can say is I'm not through looking. When you get out of the hospital, I want you to come stay with me for a few days."

Nick blinked. "With you?"

"Catherine and I haven't found anything yet, but that's by no means conclusive proof nothing's there. If you'd rather stay with Warrick, or someone else, by all means. But stay with someone. You can monitor your food and drink, everything you take in."

Still looking floored, Nick managed a nod. "Okay," he whispered. "Sure. You up for a roommate?"

"The guest room is all yours."

"Cool." Nick smiled, and then yawned cavernously. "Sorry."

Gil snorted and shook his head. "You need sleep now, and frankly so do I. I'll stop back by this evening. Call me if anything comes up?"

"Will do."

Nick's voice stopped him at the door. "Grissom?"

Gil turned. "Yeah?"

"Thank -- Thank you."

"I've hardly done anything yet, Nick."

"I know, but." Nick's exhausted eyes were too bright, suddenly. "I appreciate it anyway."

Gil smiled gently. "My pleasure. Get some rest."

"You, too."

TBC. EB