Author's notes: Thank you everybody for those words of encouragement, they inspired me to continue this though I can't promise a happy ending in this one. In many ways I identify myself with Nick, and his pain I've written is my pain. And though I'm doing a lot better now, I don't think I can make a happy feel good story at this very moment. One of the reasons why my others aren't finished yet, don't want to kill off all the main characters -sniggers to self-. So be warned to all who read this, it's one depressive piece of work.
Loneliness never comes alone
Should I be worried?
Here I am, staring into the mirror and back to my watch and I realise I've been in here fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes in which I lost track of time and got lost somewhere in that massive jungle that are my thoughts. I've been staring to myself but not really seeing my reflection, not until now and I have to turn my head in disgust. There's nothing pretty to look at there, safe for a pale face with heavy bags under the eyes. Were my ears always that big? They seem to stand out now and I feel like a goblin, one of those ugly slimy creatures from Lindsey's fairytale books. No wonder everybody else ignores me, hell, I would ignore me too. I'm not worthy to look at, too ugly. Not perfect.
Bile rises and I feel the need to hurl, again. I really should stop doing that, I tell myself as I stand there bend over the toilet, throwing up what used to be an apple. Hmmm, weird, it still looks like an apple too. I blink as I find myself staring again, this time into my own puke. God Nicky, you're really loosing it here man, keep it together, if the others find out you're screwed. Sighing I rinse my mouth and focus on the case. Ebola woman, well okay, technically not but she sure looked that way. We had to go to this spa where the doctor pretty much ignored me and kept staring at Catherine. He said it was because she was so beautiful and that he had no problem with me. Yeah right, he just didn't think I was good looking enough.
"Nicky, Cath's looking for you and she's one pissed woman."
I look at Brass when he comes in and tells me that, trying not to fidget under his scrutinizing look. He gets that Grissom look, like I'm some sort of bug under the microscope and he needs to take me apart. He called me Nicky, like Grissom and Catherine, he never called me that. Does he think I'm pathetic and need some special attention? Nicky feels so small, so young, so not good enough.
"Nick?"
"Huh?"
Okay, that was not an intelligent answer, but what else I am suppose to say? He'd been talking to me, like he's doing now and I just can't hear what he's saying. I can see his mouth moving and all and it looks kinda funny, like in slow motion. I should try to listen to him because he sees something's wrong. I try to talk but my voice doesn't work and a weird croak comes out. When his hands lands on my shoulder as he steadies me I snap out of it.
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine Stokes, you can pass easily for an albino right about now."
His hand touched my forehead and his eyes narrow at me and he shakes his head, trying to pull me out of the men's room, probably right to Grissom or something like that. I resist this time, shoving him away from me maybe a little more harsher then I should. Don't be a drama queen Nicky. Touching my own forehead I'm surprised to find it hot to the touch.
"Go home, you're burning up or talk to Catherine about going home early. You really should take better care of yourself."
"It's just the flu," I call after him, watching him walk away. I've attracted his attention too, and he thinks I'm not taking care of myself. Another thing I don't do well. I wonder why I'm even bothering in the first place. I find Catherine and we're working on the case. I don't say anything and she doesn't ask either because we joke around about getting older and I forget about Brass and my episode in the toilet.
It's nothing, I'm fine.
The End