Gil left Nick in the room alone as he escorted the woman out of her house with the police officers, but he wasn't too happy about doing that. "Can you deal with this?" he asked the officer in charge, handing over his prisoner.
She nodded, and he headed back inside. Nicky was where he had left him, in the living room, hands on his hips, and shoulders hunched, back towards the room, trying to control himself. Gil walked over to him and slipped an arm around those tense shoulders, hugging him close to him when he jumped at his touch. "It's all right." he said to him softly, and looked at his tear-streaked face with some regret. "It's over."
Nicky shook his head and looked away, but he didn't pull away from his touch. "I lost it." he croaked. "I'm such a coward."
Gil shook his head and, in an almost overwhelming feeling of sympathy for him, he used his other arm to pull him round to face him – holding his shoulders in his hands. "You're not a coward." he told him firmly. "You just faced down a woman with a gun to your head. What makes you think you're a coward?" he asked him, trying to hide his incredulity.
Nick looked away. "Because I was petrified." he told him bleakly. "So scared I burst into tears." He paused and shook his head. "I'm sorry." he whispered.
Gil shook his head and sighed, and then pulled him close against his own chest in a tight hug. He wrapped an arm tightly around his waist and buried the other hand in Nick's soft, dark hair, and smiled a little when he felt him bury his face in his shoulder and slip his own arms around his waist. "You're allowed to be petrified." Gil assured him quietly. "You're allowed to burst into tears. You did exactly the right thing, Nicky. You talked to her, you allowed her to explain, which distracted her so I could come in."
Nick sniffed. "But…" he began to protest but he was cut of by his boss' gentle chuckle.
"But nothing." Gil cut him off. "You had a gun primed and in your face. If you weren't petrified I'd be worried." He smiled and nuzzled him gently. "You're just embarrassed because you showed your emotions, but that's not a bad thing – it's a human thing."
Nicky pulled away from his shoulder and looked into Gil's face, looking for anything. He saw a mixture of affection and relief, and he smiled at him a little tearfully. "Thanks." he said to him sincerely. "For saving my life and doing this."
Gil smiled and moved his hand from the back of his head to palm Nick's cheek. "My pleasure." he assured him. "On both counts. I'll do both whenever you need it."
Nicky looked at him for a moment, and then smiled, a wide, soft, tearful smile that lit up his beautiful brown eyes. A sight that stole Gil's heart in one second. "Thanks, Gil." he said again. "But I am sorry still."
Gil studied his face as if he was seeing him for the first time. He is beautiful, he thought to himself. Why had I not seen it before? "Don't be." he assured him. "It's fine, don't be sorry. I'm not." He was going to say something else, going to do something else, but he heard the gruff voice of Captain Brass demanding from the cops outside where the two were. With a sigh he let go of the younger CSI and stepped away. "We'll talk later, okay?" he asked him, noting the look of despondency in his eye as he nodded.
Brass stormed into the room before anything more was said and he took in the scene immediately. The two CSI's were there, close but not touching, and Gil was turning to face him as he stalked in. "Are you all right?" he demanded of them both. "I got the call on the scanner: a CSI at gunpoint." He studied them both and noticed that Gil looked his usual self, if a little flushed, but Nick looked shaken, almost as if he was in shock. He walked over to him and laid a hand on the young man's arm. "Are you all right, Nick?" he asked him, trying to make his voice soothing. "You're not hurt?"
Nicky shook his head. "I'm okay." he told him. "I…" he couldn't continue, couldn't admit to him how scared he still was. "I mean, are they gone? The Hendlers?"
Brass nodded. "Both being driven off as I arrived." he assured him. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked him. He had noticed the slight trembling of muscles under his hand, the paleness to his skin, the chewing of his lip, the redness of his eyes.
"He's a little shaken up." Gil replied swiftly, coming to Nick's rescue. He looked sheepish. "I left with Mister Hendler, leaving Nick here with the wife. He figured it out and she pulled a gun on him." He gently placed a hand on the younger CSI's free shoulder and squeezed gently. "Can you take him back to the station house while I finish up here?" he asked the Captain. "We came in the same car."
Nick shook his head and pulled away from them both as Jim was nodding. "I'm okay." he said to them firmly. "Thanks for the concern. I can finish up here; I just need to find the teeth." He walked away before the pair of older men could say anything and went looking for the axe he had seen in the photos just before Amy pulled the gun on him. With her reaction he knew it was there somewhere, and he knew it was the weapon she had used on the Vic, the crocodile teeth Gil had called it. Rather than concentrate on what she had almost done to him, he tried to concentrate on finding the evidence, at least it helped him try to pull himself together. Being enfolded in Gil's tight embrace had brought out feelings in him he had thought buried as soon as he had seen Sara and Gris together, and he knew he had to deal with that as well. But not here, here he had to do his job. He couldn't bear the thought that Gil might think less of him because of this – he was so embarrassed and angry with himself anyway for losing it the way he had, in front of Gris, he had to do something to lift himself up in the boss' estimations.
Jim and Gil watched him go and the Captain then turned back to his friend. "Crocodile teeth?" he asked him quietly.
Gil smiled a little. "The murder weapon." he explained, and followed his subordinate.
Later, at home, Nick had tidied as much as he could, cleaned as much of the place as he could, but he was still angry at himself. He was trying to avoid the inevitable, doing as much as he could to make sure he didn't do anything stupid to himself, but he was getting to the end of his rope now. He was tired, but angrier with himself as the day had gone on. Gil had kept an eye on him, at the house and back at the lab – he had found the climbing axe and had taken it back to the lab to run the tests on it, all the time knowing that his boss was making sure that he was all right. And that annoyed him, making him feel even more embarrassed about his reactions to the gun earlier that Gil thought he needed to be checked up on to make sure he was all right.
He had worked through the rest of his shift, making sure that he did everything with the axe by the book, all the records were done, and that no-one could come up with any mistakes or comments on his work. Then he had left when his shift had ended without a word to anyone of his team, especially Gil, and tried to work out his anger on his mess. But to no avail.
He sat down on his sofa with a growl of frustration, and picked up the remote for his TV. Flicking through the channels he really wished he had cable, but there was nothing on, and nothing he could sink himself into so he could ignore the call of his blades. He had made the stupid decision to buy more on the way home – cheap razors were not hard to come by – but he had put them away in his cutting drawer in the hope that he would be able to ignore them. But it was not happening, he sat on his sofa and gritted his teeth against the urge to go and get them and tried desperately to find something else to think about.
But he knew he would lose out to them in the end.
With a sigh he stood and climbed up the stairs, into the bathroom, and went to the drawer in the unit there that he kept his stash. Staring at it for a moment he tried to walk away, tried to leave them alone and do something else, but the call was too strong. He pulled away from himself, as usual seeming to watch from a distance as he pulled out the razors from the drawer, opened the pack and pulled one of the cheap ones out. He rolled up his sleeve on his right arm, placed the razor blade against the outside of elbow, and dragged it down his arm, digging in as much as he could. It hurt, the cheap blade with no protection did the trick, and he kept on until he started to feel better about himself. Blood splashed into the sink, but he just turned on the cold tap to wash it away, rinsing the blade under the stream to get the skin out of it and off it so he could continue until the anger and humiliation eased to a manageable level.
Gil looked around his house when he got home and sighed to himself. The place was tidy, as usual, but as empty as usual. It was too big for just him, he knew, but he had bought it because it was a lovely townhouse, in a nice neighbourhood, and he had not planned to be on his own for the rest of his life. Nick would make the place more homely he thought to himself as he hung up his jacket and walked into the kitchen, he'd make him want to come home more often. He sighed to himself and went in to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, doing something routine to take his mind off his non-routine day. He had hoped to have spoken to Nick again some time during the day, even to give him a lift home or something so he could spend some time with him and maybe gauge his reactions if he took a chance and kissed him.
He sipped his hot tea and thought about calling him, just to make sure he was okay, but he didn't really know what his reaction would be to that either. He sighed into his mug and laughed softly to himself. Everyone thought he was cold and asexual, he knew, and it wasn't something he had tried to deny, especially when he was around Sara. She was a friend of his, that was all, but her almost constant flirting around him was starting to annoy him now. At first it was entertaining, what she would see in him, but now it was getting old, and he could see that it was irritating the team too. He had noticed that first in Nick, he had thought that the younger man was interested in Sara, but he hadn't made a move on her since she had arrived. Gil had observed the team mingle with each other, and Cat seemed to be doing her usual and taking the boys under her wing, being their surrogate mother. Nick and Warrick were almost inseparable, as they had been before, but they seemed to have become closer since Holly had died. Gil approved of that, yes, Warrick had been in the wrong, but he had left her with an officer, and had been exonerated in the subsequent investigation. Through it all Nicky had been right there with him, backing him up with Brass and Internal Affairs, willing to put his own recently won promotion on the line to back up his friend and colleague. He wouldn't be surprised if Nick had gone to him for some help with this. At least he wouldn't be on his own, he persuaded himself, and turned to put his cup in the dishwasher, turning his mind to other problems.