Nick sat on the edge of his bed, arms resting on his thighs, his head hung low. He glanced up to his alarm clock, only three minutes had passed since his last glance. He blew out a breath between pursed lips, staring at the wall. She'd retreated to the shower the moment they'd gotten back to his town house, and even though she'd tried to do it softly, he'd heard her lock the bathroom door behind her. The water had been running for forty-five minutes, and when he'd passed the bathroom door on his way into the bedroom, he could feel the heat escaping from the crack at the bottom of the door. Nick knew rape victims scrubbed themselves after their attack, at a seminar, he'd seen photos of one victim who'd scrubbed so hard for so long, and with such hot water, she'd taken off the first few layers of her own skin, leaving her entire body red and raw as a uncooked steak.
He looked at the clock again. Only another minute had passed. He wanted to go in there. He wanted to break down the door. He wanted to hold her and take all the pain for himself. He wanted to catch the creep that did this to her. He wanted to shove a broomstick up that ass holes ass hole to give him a taste of his own medicine. He wanted to press the muzzle of his side arm against the temple of that son of a bitch and pull the trigger. But mostly, he wanted this all to be a dream.
His cell phone rang, startling him. Grabbing it from the bedside table he flipped it open and brought it up to his ear. "Hello?"
"Nick," Brass's voice resonated in his ear. "How's your girlfriend?"
Nick sighed. "She's in the shower."
"Yeah, ok." The seasoned detective understood. "I've sent a uniform to your house."
"Why?" Nick asked, pissed.
"Because the guy who did this to her was about to kill her and he might come back to finish the job."
"I brought her back to my place, how would he know where we are?" The boyfriend of a victim was speaking, not the criminalist trained in the ways of desperate criminals.
"You know as well as I do how." Restrained patience filled Brass's voice.
Nick, with abrupt clarity pictured the bastard waiting outside the hospital and following them to his town house. "Yeah, ok."
"Cop should be there any minute." Brass said at the same time the doorbell rang.
"Think he's here now." Nick said standing and walking though the bedroom. He glanced at the bathroom door as he passed.
"Good." Brass paused. "Nick, if this guy does show...take care of it."
"Yeah." Nick answered and snapped the phone shut. Picking up his revolver, he held it to his side, double checked the chain and opened the door.
He recognized the cop right off, and the muscles in his back relaxed a bit. "Stevenson."
"Hey Stokes" the officer lifted his chin in greeting. "Captain sent me."
"Yeah" was all Nick could come up with to say.
"Ok, well, I'll be here until dawn."
Nick nodded, suddenly very, very tired. "Ok. Let us know if you need anything." He said absently and shut the door.
When he passed the bathroom door on the way back to the bedroom, the shower was off. He sat heavily back down on the bed. A few minutes later the toilet flushed, then he could hear the water run briefly in the sink. Another five minutes passed before he heard the click of the bathroom door lock and she tentatively stepped through the hall and into the bedroom. She was wearing the same sweat pants the hospital had given her, but instead of the tee shirt, she'd pulled one of his sweatshirts out of the hamper. She stopped two steps in from the open doorway, as if for inspection, hugging her elbows across her chest in unconscious self-protection. His eyes darted from her face to her hands, to her feet, back again to her face. The only skin he could see. They were red from the heat of the shower, and had the sheen skin gets when it's well scrubbed, but she wasn't raw, and he exhaled in relief.
She brought her hand to her face, grazing over the bruise on her cheek, quickly moving her hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry I took so long in there" she tried to smile but failed.
He shook his head and stood "Don't apologize. No need." They stood a few feet apart, but the cavern between them was huge. He put his hands in his pockets. She swallowed hard. Silence threatened to over flow the room. He was thinking about the light he'd seen in her eyes when they'd first met, trying not to stare at her now, but needing to know if he could see even a tiny flicker still there, needing to know just how much of her was gone. She was thinking about the promise she'd made to him that afternoon in her bed, just after Grissom had called him to work.
He clicked the phone shut and let out a frustrated groan. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he glanced over his shoulder to where she lay behind him, her hair a mass of mayhem around her head.
"Gotta go?" She asked.
"Yeah" he answered turning and pulling himself on to his hands and knees, his face inches from hers. "Sorry 'bout this ma'am" he said in the hokiest southern drawl he could muster.
Smiling brightly, charmed, she reached out and cupped his face in her right hand, he nuzzled into it. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she ran her finger over the square line of his jaw, then down his chest. He closed his eyes.
"I suppose they're not gonna get any deader..." he mumbled as he moved in closer.
"Nope" she laughed, "you've gotta go." Her fingertips lightly pushed him away.
"But" she began, "I'll be right here. Waiting. For you." He smiled at the thought and groaned again as she pushed him away a second time. Shaking his head, and cursing Grissom, he got dressed.
"I was wondering" she broke the silence "I think I may be able to sketch his face, would that help?" He was torn, the boyfriend said no, hell no, but the criminalist said yes, hell yes.
"If you think you can" he nodded slowly, "yeah."
She took a breath, as if she'd been holding it in. "Kay."
"You want some tea or somthin'?" he made a move toward the door.
"No. I think, I think I'm just gonna go to bed." He stopped, not knowing what to do with himself.
After a moment he bobbed his head. "I could sleep on the couch..." the words hung in the air.
Panic and embarrassment crossed her face "No. I want...I'd like you to stay with me." She reached out, touched his arm.
His head bobbed again and he let out a silent breath between pursed lips. "I need to shower. Won't be but five minutes." He headed for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
She watched him until the closed door cut him out of view. Please don't leave me. She crawled into his bed, and hugged his pillow to her chest, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne and sweat. The doorbell rang. Who? She pushed the sheet off of her and got up, padding though the bedroom and to the front door. Placing her hands flat on the door, she stood on her tiptoes and peered through the peephole.
Nick braced himself with his palms flat on the wall of the shower, his head hanging and let the water cascade down his back. He hadn't felt the tension until it had started to ebb away. Raising his head, he rolled his neck, hearing the bones crack even over the noise of the shower. He soaped up quickly, then ran his lathered hands through his hair before stepping under the spray and rinsing off. He shut off the shower, idly wondering if she'd fallen asleep, if she even could sleep tonight. He stepped out onto the mat, wrapping the towel around his waist, and heard her scream. It was his name, over and over, like one long word.
"NICKNICKNICKNICKNICK"
"Jesus" he lost his footing in his rush, almost falling, but grabbed the towel bar, balanced and raced out, following the sound of her voice, her scream had become primal, no words formed, just one howl after another.
Brass pulled up outside the town house and shut off the engine. In the sudden silence, Rai's scream burst through the air. Spinning his head toward the house, he saw the back of a man in a police uniform, standing in the open doorway. Scrambling out of the Taurus, he left the car door open and ran up the driveway, gun drawn.
Nick ran into the living room and found Rai sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest, still screaming. The officer Nick had spoken to earlier was standing in the kicked in doorway, his gun in his hands, but pointing to the floor. "What the fuck?" Nick hollered through Rai's screams. He knelt next to her, cupping her face in his hands, made soothing sounds, trying to quiet her. She dissolved into sobs and Nick cradled her.
"What the hell happened?" Brass arrived. "Put that away Stevenson." He motioned with his head toward the officers drawn gun at the same time he holstered his own.
"Oh." Stevenson muttered as if he just realized he'd drawn it in the first place.
"What happened?" Brass asked again.
"I needed to take a leak." Steven said sheepishly. "He said to let them know if I needed anything," he explained in answer to Brass's raised eyebrows. "I rang the bell, a minute later, she starts screaming, so I kicked in the door."
"Ok. You" Brass put his hand on Stevenson's shoulder and turned him "come with me." With a backwards glance to Nick and Rai, still on the floor, Brass said, "I'll get someone right out to fix the door." A few yards down the driveway, Brass threw a fatherly arm around Stevenson's shoulder. "Let me explain to you the fine art of killing the grass" he began.
Inside, still in Nicks embrace, Rai sobs had slipped into weeping, her face buried in her hands. Nick moved his right arm underneath her knees and carried her like a child into the bedroom.
Much later, the door fixed by a crew Brass dredged up from somewhere, Rai lay on her right side, her arm underneath her head. Nick was sitting next to her on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He watched her, looking for any sign, but of what, he didn't know. Her eyes hadn't closed since she'd lain down, even as worn out as she was, she wouldn't let herself sleep. He wondered if he should try to get her to take one of the pills the hospital had given her as she blinked drowsily then forced her eyes wide again.
"Want me to get you some water?" He asked, hoarseness in his soft voice. She shook her head, eyes staring but not seeing. He sighed quietly with the frustration of helplessness. A moment later he asked: "How 'bout some food? I could run out and get..."
"NO!" She interrupted desperate fear creeping into her voice. "No" she repeated more softly this time.
"What can I do?" No frustration, only tenderness, willingness. He slid down the bed, lying next to her, pressing against her back. He didn't know if he should touch her yet, didn't know if he could touch her without causing her to flinch. He tried, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder "What can I do?" he asked again.
Let me crawl inside you. She shook her head again, burring her face deeper into the pillow, and reached up, taking his hand in hers. She pulled him closer, bringing their clasped hands tightly to her chest, his arm draped over her waist. Sometime later, she fell into a fitful sleep. Nick stayed awake all night, watching her.