Help Me
She came into the lab and immediately choked back a sob as she ran to Nick. She threw her arms around his neck and let out a cry.
"Oh Nick!"
Well aware of the stares he received, Nick patted the girl tamely on the back.
"Paige, what's going on?" he asked, glancing at Grissom and the others. Gil shook his head, his eyes clouded with suspicion. She just sobbed, and Nick could feel the wet tears soaking through his shirt to his skin. "Paige, tell me."
"Nick, can we talk somewhere?" Her voice was timid, and she glanced at the others watching them.
Grissom cleared his throat, his opinion thereby voiced on the issue.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Nick said, shooting a glance at his supervisor.
"Just out here," Paige said, holding open the lab door to the hallway. She stepped out and motioned for him to follow. Nick nodded, and followed her.
He could hear the whispers and feel the eyes of his friends on him. They were worried, but Nick . . . he wasn't sure if they needed to worry about Paige Landry.
Once they reached the hallway, Paige looked like she was about to fall apart. The people milling around seemed to aggravate that, and she suddenly looked into his eyes with a pitiful expression.
"It's too noisy here," she said. Nick tipped his head up.
"No, it's fine," he countered. Paige shook her head vigorously.
"Please, Nick. Let's just go outside." The lights in his head were starting to flash. He started to shake his head when she struck.
She reached for something concealed under the hem of her shirt, and suddenly pressed it to Nick's neck. He stiffened automatically and held his hands out wide in a gesture of surrender.
"Hey!!" Warrick and the team were in the hallway in a flash, each person going for their gun.
Paige quickly moved behind Nick and tightened her knife arm around his neck. The blade was sharp, too sharp. Nick let out a slight cry as it cut into his skin. She eased up the pressure immediately.
"I'm sorry!" she whispered frantically in his ear. He felt her other hand at his waist, gripping his side and guiding him away from her opposition.
"Let Nick go," Grissom said sternly. He had no gun handy, but the supervisor was rarely one to use such intimidation. The staff of the crime lab seemed to halt; it became unusually quiet, and through the glass walls and doorways, Nick could see a lot of them stopping to see what was going on.
"You're trapped," Warrick said, his gun raised. Nick gulped at that. He and Warrick always kidded each other about aim, yet even when his own life was on the line, he wasn't too certain Warrick wouldn't miss. "You're surrounded by police."
As if to help illustrate that point, several uniformed officers poured into the hallway. The sound of their gun belts and the clicks of their guns just escalated the tension. Nick's chest tightened.
It must have affected Paige too. She seemed to shift behind Nick, and he could feel the blade scraping his skin as she flinched.
"Don't shoot," Grissom ordered to the itching gun bearers. His eyes focused on Nick, and then moved to Paige. "Miss Landry. I think you should know what we've found."
She didn't want to hear anything. Her grip on Nick tightened, and she pressed the tip of the knife to his neck. Nick's breath hitched again. He felt her own breathe by his ear.
"Nick, please!" she hissed. "Leave with me!"
Grissom disregarded her increased physical threat. "We found surveillance footage of who killed Christian Patterson."
The pressure behind the knife suddenly increased again, and Nick stifled a yelp. Again, Paige let up, but not without a disbelieving gasp.
"Nick," she whispered again in his ear. "Everything will be all right, if you just come with me. Please, I know it will be fine."
And then it hit Nick. She really believed it. She couldn't see what trouble she caused him. She didn't know what had happened to him at the park.
She didn't know what happened to her previous lover.
"He's telling the truth," Nick whispered just so she could hear. "I saw the tape. Christian knew his killer, too." Her fingers dug into his side, and he winced.
"No," she said immediately. "That's not possible." Her voice bordered on emotional breakdown and an icy façade. Nick didn't fancy either, not with that knife still at his neck.
"It is," Grissom said. "I can show you the tape. Maybe you could help us ID the killer."
She didn't go for that idea.
"They killed him, Paige," Nick said. He felt her flinch as he used her name. "They tried to kill me too."
"No." Again, her response was immediate. It was denial. "They just want to talk to you." Her hands shook, and the blade trembled at his throat.
"Is that what they told you, Paige?" Grissom asked. "Are they waiting for you and Nick?" Paige didn't answer, and Nick didn't know what to do. He swallowed quickly.
"Paige, please," he said. His voice broke, and he hated that, especially as it triggered burning tears to fill his eyes. "Just watch the tape. You can see for yourself. You can help us figure this all out."
She shook her head, her hair whipping against him. "No." Nick didn't know which question that was to, but it didn't matter. He knew what she meant. It wasn't denial.
Deep down, she already knew the truth.
Suddenly she started moving back, away from the CSIs.
"Stay away!" she yelled in an unnatural shriek. That knife cut into Nick's skin again, and he quickly moved with her as he felt blood trickle down his neck. He saw Grissom raise a hand to the gathered and anxious troops. Part of Nick was grateful for that. He didn't want to get hurt. He himself, or Paige.
Why do I still care? he thought miserably.
Paige led him to the front lobby, and towards the front door.
"Paige, please," Nick said again. "Let go of me." Their pace faltered as if she was considering it.
"I'm sorry," she said simply. Her voice was suddenly chilly and detached.
Despite the officers cautiously trailing them, Paige hugged Nick's body closer to hers. It wasn't sexual, but purely threatening. The police officers halted, especially as Paige kept that knife tightly to Nick's neck.
Nick tilted his head up, trying to ease the pressure, but it wasn't working. He felt the air sting at the cuts already there.
"Nick," he heard her whisper in his ear. She seemed like she was going to say more, but nothing came out. Her lips brushed against his ear, and Nick had to fight the shudder of terror and simultaneous pleasure he felt.
Suddenly she dropped her arm with the knife from around his neck and pushed him forward.
"FREEZE!" At least a dozen people had to have yelled it, but Paige was out the front door before anyone could pull a trigger.
Nick fell on his knees, his hands clawing at his neck. For a moment, he felt like he'd been cut deeper, but it wasn't the knife.
Catherine and Grissom, everyone surrounded him. He heard "Are you all right?" and "Did she hurt you?" but even so, Nick's focus was on the screeching tires of the car outside, escaping with Paige and whoever she worked for.
He didn't go to the hospital, though Grissom was adamant about it. Nick, though he didn't want to admit it, felt too scared to leave. Not after what just happened.
Brass had every cop in town looking for Paige Landry and the vehicle she escaped in. And Warrick and Sara were searching for the killer on the grocery store surveillance tape.
Nick suspected they wouldn't find anything.
It was several hours later when he was convinced to go home. Brass had four uniformed cops go with him, guarding his home while Nick quickly showered and caught two hours of sleep.
When he awoke, Nick changed into a mock turtleneck. It hid the light bandages at his neck. He felt a bit self-conscious when someone's eyes flickered to it, or when he saw it in a mirror's reflection. It scared him.
He was glad Grissom didn't give him crap when he returned to the lab. But as soon as he settled in the breakroom over a cup of coffee with Catherine, Gil came rushing in.
"We have a case," he said, more to Catherine than Nick. But he went on. "Nick, you may want to come with us."
"PD got the call," Brass said, briefing the CSIs. The whole team was gathered. "A garbage man found her, lying next to the bin he was about to collect."
It was Paige.
Nick tried to shield out anything he felt as he stared at her lifeless body. Her face held a bruise, but otherwise she seemed unmarred—except for the gunshot wound in her chest. It was centered right over her heart.
Nick swallowed dryly and briefly shut his eyes.
She's dead.
He knew who killed her. Everyone could at least venture a guess.
Grissom sent Nick home after that. "We'll process the evidence," he'd said. For once, Nick didn't argue.
Two police officers sat outside his home, while Nick sat inside. He stared at the television screen, but it wasn't on. He knew that, though he didn't care how it would seem if someone walked in on him.
The image of Paige's body flashed in his mind, and Nick flinched. He also saw her in the lab, replaying her desperation and threats. He saw her kissing him, and could almost feel her lips. . . .
Do I care that she's dead? After all, she had tried to kill him. Or lure him away so. . .
What? So her employer could kill me? Nick knew he didn't know that for sure, but it's what he assumed. A flash of anger went through him as he thought about the real blame in this whole mess. He didn't know who 'they' were or what they did. But they had caused all of this.
They murdered one of their own.
They covered it up and implicated their own to get in jail for some reason.
They pulled strings to free Paige, and then threatened him as Nick got too close.
They killed Paige.
Nick knew she must have been convinced or coerced to get him out of the lab. Maybe she believed that it was her duty. Maybe she believed her employer wasn't doing anything bad.
She was wrong. The morgue held evidence enough of that.
Rage flooded him, and suddenly Nick was on his feet. He wanted to hit something, scream out, fire his weapon, anything for some release of what he felt, but he knew anything he wanted to do would draw in the police guarding him. He ran to his bedroom, and grabbed the mattress off the bed. He flung it upright and started punching it.
His hits knew no pauses. He just continued to beat the mattress. It was everything that deserved justice, everything that wronged him, Christian Patterson, Paige . . .
A half-choked sob escaped his throat, and Nick immediately punished himself by biting his lips and punching harder at the mattress.
His arms started to ache, and his chest hurt from his labored breath. He flung the mattress back on the bed, and watched as it quickly fell crookedly on the box spring. Another sob threatened him, and Nick dove onto the bed, burying his face in the soft mass.
He threw his arms and hands over his head, muffling the sounds of his choked cries. Suddenly, he took a deep breath and just screamed. The tormented sound pierced the mattress, but was lost beyond his room.
Wet tears accompanied his screams, until he finally succumb to exhaustion.