a/n: Sorry this took so long! Enjoy!

Repercussions

Jill sat numbly in a conference room, somewhere in a lab area. She guessed it was where CSIs hung out. Nick was by her side, along with his coworker, Catherine. Across from her, though, sat Ethan.

She stared at him. He was so collected about everything, and so nonchalant.

"I'm not supposed to blow my cover," the Brit said, "but Lane gave up an opportunity for me to find what I needed. The situation was clearly going sour, so I decided the risk was worth it."

"Why should we believe you?" Nick asked, his jaw tense. Ethan merely grinned at him.

"I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, but I'm sure my superiors are clearing me with your detective as we speak." He glanced to Grissom. "You have Lane's cell phone?"

"Yes," Grissom said. Ethan nodded.

"I'll need that."

Gil frowned. "For what?"

"Lane placed a call right before we came out, to his contact," Ethan said. "I need to get to that contact, and now I can."

"And why should we let you go after him when he's been involved with this whole mess?" Nick challenged. "Multiple homicides, robbery, kidnapping—"

"Frankly, Mr. Stokes," Ethan interrupted, "it's out of your jurisdiction. I respect the work you all do here in Las Vegas, but this goes beyond your city, state, and country." His eyes were still cool, that light but bright blue. Even as the information sunk in, that he might be a good guy, he was still a brick wall with no warmth or compassion.

Jill glared at him. Her mind replayed all the opportunities he'd had. All the chances to help her, or stop Lane, or take control to avoid the misery and death.

Suddenly he looked at her, sensing her disdain.

"My apologies, Ms. Parker," he said in that accent that Jill hated now. "I wish I could have helped you sooner."

"Helped me?" she whispered, almost unsure of her voice and temper. Images of the warehouses and being chased came to mind. "You terrorized me. You could have let me escape earlier. Lane wasn't around. He had nothing on you, no way to know if you just let me go." Her voice was rising more rapidly, and beside her Nick grabbed her hand. It might have been to restrain her, but Jill took it as back up.

"Instead," she continued, standing as she started to yell, "you chased me, knocked me out, and just watched while Lane hurt Kostya and me!"

Ethan raised his head slightly, almost to clear himself of her charges. "I understand your anger—"

"Like hell you do!" she yelled.

"—but I needed you around to do whatever Lane wanted so I could accomplish my objective," he finished. He wasn't the least bit riled by her tone or accusations. His tone never changed. He simply sat there, his hands cuffed but politely folded on the table top.

Jill felt her heart hit hard against her chest. It was a final blow to the coldness and indifferent nature of the British man. It was a final blow to the misery she felt.

There had never been a chance for her even with a 'good guy' around all the time. There had never been a chance for Kostya to change, or to live. Even with the opportunities, Ethan wouldn't step in. All because it would get in the way of his "objective."

Jill pushed against the table, scooting her chair back. She stood, her eyes spitting venomous looks at the Brit. She left the room, unable to stand it anymore.

Nick stood to follow Jill out, but Grissom shot him a look. Nick bit down on the inside of his cheek and sat back down.

Ethan observed it all with a smirk, which thankfully he tucked away for passivity as Grissom nodded for him to continue with the 'facts.'

"Lane was a fool to suspect Kostya," the Brit said, leaning back in his chair. His voice suddenly seemed light, reflective and not the least bit darkened by his own failures. That irked Nick, but he forced himself to listen. "Kostya was changing, but the real danger Lane never suspected."

"You," Grissom filled in. It stroked Ethan's ego, the way Gil said it, but Nick had seen his boss do this before. It often was done to criminals who thought they were so clever.

But Ethan merely smiled, even managing to appear humble. He gave a short nod.

"He never considered that he was compromised," Ethan said. He shrugged. "And Kostya paid for it."

"Why did you let Kostya take the fall?" Nick asked. Grissom shot him a look, but watched the two younger men.

"Do you really care?" the Brit asked. "I wasn't going to risk my cover for him. And you certainly weren't about to let him go free because he was protecting Jill."

Nick tilted his chin up at Ethan. "If he'd switched sides and helped take down Lane, we might have offered him a deal."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Really? Even when he was your competition for Jill?"

Nick glared at him, and Gil interrupted with cough.

"Okay, enough," Grissom said. He opened his mouth to say more, but Brass suddenly entered the room. From the look on the detective's face, it wasn't what they wanted to hear.

"He's telling the truth," Brass said, shooting a glare to Ethan. "You're free to go."

Ethan stood, a smirk appearing yet again on his lips. "If I may have the cell phone . . ." Grissom sighed but nodded.

"Follow me."

He left, with Ethan behind him and wasting no time to ignore Nick. The Texan just watched him leave. He clenched his fists.

"Brass," he started, "who is he?"

The detective sighed. "Reading between the lines from what the State Department just told me, he's with British Intelligence." He watched as down the hall Ethan handled Lane's cell phone and made his way out of the building. "He's an emotionless s.o.b, isn't he?"

Nick didn't answer but his nails dug into his palms.

"The girl, Jill Parker, is at the hospital," Brass said. Nick tore his eyes away from the hallway. "She'd turned down medical examination before, but she decided to go now."

"Is she okay?" Nick asked.

"I don't know," the detective said. "She just barely left for the hospital. Maybe you should go check on her." He punctuated that with a slight smile and Nick nodded. He grabbed his jacket and keys and left.

"Sorry, Mr. Stokes," the nurse at the hospital said, "but she doesn't want to see anyone."

Nick's jaw dropped. He stammered a moment, wondering why she would refuse him . . .

"Is she all right?"

The nurse started to shake her head, and Nick felt his whole body tighten in pain. "I can't discuss anything without violating the patient's privacy—"

Nick shut his eyes. "I'm simply asking if she'll be okay."

Suddenly the nurse's eyes softened, and she nodded.

"Thank you," Nick whispered. He sighed and left the hospital.

Why didn't she want to see him? Maybe it was as simple as she wasn't dressed. Something inside him though said it was more complicated than that. Was she raped?

Nick froze. Was that why she didn't want to see him? He swallowed hard and shook his head, forcing himself to. Whatever the findings, he'd learn soon enough. The hospital would send a copy of any evidence to the CSI lab.

Kostya wouldn't have hurt her. As much as he disliked the Russian, Nick didn't think he'd do that. Ethan—well, no. He exhibited too much control to do something so angry and terrible. But Lane . . .

Nick felt a shudder run through him, followed quickly by anger. And then suddenly he remembered how she'd acted when they came to that warehouse. She was scared, and then . . . sorrowful, as they all watched Kostya die.

Kostya. It was him. Maybe Jill cared for him enough to mourn him. Somehow that didn't sit right with Nick, but he hadn't been there for Jill. And he acknowledged that. Kostya, on the other hand, was the only one seemingly on her side—especially with Ethan not caring if anything happened to her.

The anger reappeared and suddenly he wanted to find that cocky British kid and pound him. Since two of the kidnappers were dead, Nick was all for the last one to suffer the fates of their crimes. He knew though that it wouldn't happen. Ethan was gone, and immune from his actions.

Nick sighed as he pulled up to his house. He would try to call Jill later. For now, she needed space, and he wouldn't deny her that, not after failing her already.

Ethan's 'confessions,' if it could be called that, stung Jill. He might as well have shot Kostya himself. Or shot her, for all she cared.

She told herself it was indeed a tragedy that Kostya died, but she shouldn't let herself be affected. It didn't work though. For all the Russian's flaws, he did realize he wanted things to be different.

He just never acted on it enough until it was too late. Jill bit down on her lip and turned her thoughts away from the image of him dying in that warehouse.

Part of her wished Lane was alive. No one had paid for what happened—no one who deserved punishment, anyway. If only Ethan hadn't shot him . . . if only Ethan could be punished.

She sighed and walked into her apartment.

And stopped.

"Hi honey," her father said. He stood up from a couch that still harbored the dent of his body. His shady grin emerged and Jill couldn't help but feel disgusted.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Inside she felt icy. Something about her father's presence made her feel poisoned, and she wanted nothing more than him to leave.

"I was worried! I saw the news—"

"Please leave," Jill said civilly. Her father shook his head.

"You're just tired," he said. "I'll make you some dinner." With that, he actually moved off the couch and headed to her small kitchen. Jill shook her head and followed him.

"No, I want you to go!" she almost shouted. Her dad merely waved it off and began digging in her fridge.

"I can't believe you don't have more in here," he started. "Well, I had to throw stuff out. You wouldn't believe what was growing—"

"I've been gone for several days! Kidnapped, remember!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. She dropped her tone. "I want you to leave, now."

Her dad stood firmly in place, and his face contorted with barely veiled rage.

"No," he seethed. "You listen to me, Jill—"

Fear had started to creep around her, but a knock at the door was the closest thing to salvation she could hear. Jill raced for the door and opened it, even as she heard her dad behind her.

It was Nick, and from his face, he knew immediately that something was wrong.

"Jill?"

"Nick!"

Her father came to a stop behind her suddenly.

"Who's this?" he asked, a bit angrily.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked. Jill glared at her father.

"He was just leaving."
"No, I wasn't," Mr. Parker quickly said. From the doorstep, Nick glared.

"I think you should go," he said, stepping inside the door. Mr. Parker immediately objected, but Nick just held up a hand. "Jill wants you to leave, and as it's her home, if you don't, you're trespassing. Keep it up, and I'll call the police."

The father glared at him, then at his daughter, but it didn't faze Nick. He stepped forward, his shoulders square and jaw set. Mr. Parker didn't seem terribly intimidated, but after a tense moment, he brushed by his daughter and shoved Nick on his way out.

Nick wanted to hit him but restrained himself. Mr. Parker walked on down the sidewalk to a Lexus SUV. Nick frowned at that, but turned back to Jill.

She stepped aside and let him in. Nick shut the door behind him and for a few moments, they both just stood awkwardly in her apartment.

"You forgot to mention that you are the police," Jill said after the long silence. Nick grinned.

"Crime scene investigator. I didn't want to have to explain," he said. "Not the right moment, you know?"

She laughed, a brief chuckle but enough to make Nick loosen up as well.

"You okay?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yeah. That was my dad," she said, though Nick figured it out. She looked at him, studying his face. "Why are you here?"

She knew he probably felt . . . rejected or something because of the hospital incident, but Jill still wanted to be alone.

"I—I wanted to check on you," he said. "I was worried." Nick studied his feet but his head was turned just slightly up as if to wait for an answer.

Jill let a sad smile show. "Thank you." She drew a deep breath. "But I'm fine. I just want to rest."

Nick looked from the floor to her, slowly, his eyes understanding but his jawline taut with the truth.

"Okay," he said. He turned for the door, and as he started through it, he said, "If you need anything . . ." He held out a small card with his number.

Jill nodded and took it.

As soon as she heard the door shut, Jill sighed out and flopped on the couch. She wrinkled her nose—she could still smell her dad on it.

Jill groaned and headed for the shower.