7/9/05

GRAVE CONSEQUENCES

Chapter 6

Two days later found Nick once again sitting in first class of a Boeing 757, awaiting take off. The other passengers were still boarding, but he was already getting antsy. He wasn't sure how he was going to survive the long flight. The small bottle of sleeping pills was tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket, weighing heavily with the promise of oblivion. But he knew how groggy the drug left him and he wasn't sure he wanted to leave himself so vulnerable when he was flying alone. He also couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't dream and he really didn't want to freak everyone in first class out by waking up screaming. No, he would need to stay awake for the entire flight.

He was beginning to wonder if perhaps he should have accepted Allison's offer to fly back to Vegas with him. But at the time, he had been determined to prove to his family that he could do this on his own, that he wasn't completely helpless. Now he wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have swallowed his pride. Of course, he had also been worried that if Allison did come back with him, he wouldn't be able to get rid of her. He loved his sister, but he really didn't want to be alone with her and her insistent, probing questions.

It had been difficult putting her off. She had been most insistent about coming with him. And even as he had been about to board the plane, she had left him with a veiled threat to simply show up on his doorstep in Vegas, with or without his permission. Oh well, he thought, I'll deal with that if, or when, it happens. There's really no point in trying to influence Allison's behavior, she'll do whatever she wants, regardless.

His brooding thoughts were distracted as another passenger moved in to take the seat beside him. He glanced up at the woman and smiled. She was probably in her mid-to-late-forties, with big hair, dyed an unnatural shade of carrot-orange. Her generously curved figure was encased in skin-tight jeans and a very low-cut top which barely managed to contain her ample cleavage. But despite her rather extreme appearance, she was not an unattractive woman and seemed well aware of that fact. She returned his smile invitingly.

As the plane finally began to taxi into position for take off, Nick turned his attention to the window on his right to watch as the plane rocketed down the runway, rushing toward the embrace of the clear morning sky. He loved the sensation of take off, when his body felt like it was being pulled in two different directions. His stomach felt like it was being pulled toward the ground, while his head felt like it might float away, as the plane fought against gravity and clawed its way toward the heavens.

He had always wanted to learn to fly, but somehow he had never seemed to find the time. It was part of his fascination with birds. He had always envied them their ability to leave the earth-bound world behind and soar up into the open sky, to a world where the rules of gravity no longer seemed to apply. Now that was true freedom. It was an incredible high he had only experienced when he had tried paragliding. Unfortunately he hadn't really had the time to do much of that either. You know, he thought, I should try that again while I still have some time off.

As the plane reached its cruising altitude and the passengers were told they could remove their seat belts, the red-head beside Nick turned to face him. She extended a perfectly manicured hand toward him and, speaking in an over-the-top Texan accent he felt sure was deliberately affected, said, "Hi, my name is Abby Scarsdale..."

From the expectant look she gave him, he realized that she was waiting for him to introduce himself. Shaking the offered hand, he said, "Nick Stokes, nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, Nick. I'm sorry to bother you, but this is my first trip to Vegas and I am just too excited to sit still. My husband and I recently divorced. My lawyers made sure that I was very well provided for and well, I just decided that I needed to reward myself after dealing with all that emotional trauma."

Nick nodded and smiled blandly at the woman thinking, Lady, you have no idea what emotional trauma really is. He chose to completely ignore the blatant, 'very well provided for' hint that she had dropped.

"So, what takes you to Las Vegas, business or pleasure?" she asked.

"Uh, business, I guess. I live there."

"Oh, is that right? You know, I was hoping to meet some nice local person who could, you know, show me the sights..."

Damn, Nick thought, I just walked right into that one.

"I mean, a girl traveling by herself can never be too careful. It's always good to have a strapping, young man on hand to make you feel safe." She laid a familiar hand on his knee and beamed up at him as she spoke. "So, tell me, what is it that you do for a living?"

"I'm a crime scene investigator."

"Really? I've never heard of that. Is that like a cop?"

"Uh, no, more like a scientist."

"No... You don't look like any scientist I've ever met before..." she gushed.

And just how many scientists have you met? Nick thought.

"Scientists are usually those nerdy-looking types with thick glasses. You don't look anything like that..." She gave his knee a slight squeeze.

Oh, God, he thought, groaning inwardly, this is going to be a long flight.

And it was a long flight. But at least Nick needn't have worried about how he was going to make it through the flight, as he was too busy fending off Abby Scarsdale's wandering fingers, which kept creeping higher and higher up his thigh, to be affected by the crowded, pressurized cabin. She also kept making none-too-subtle comments about the Mile High Club, which Nick pretended either to not hear or not understand. Luckily for him, Ms. Scarsdale was well-bred enough not to make any overt suggestions. Four hours later, Nick found that never in his life had he been happier to see the approaching runways of McCarran Airport.

As he walked off the plane and headed into the terminal, Nick scanned the gathered crowd for the tall, dark head of Warrick Brown. He had called the other CSI the night before and Warrick had readily agreed to come and pick him up from the airport, even though it meant losing out on precious sleep, as Nick's flight arrived in the late morning.

"Nick!"

Hearing his name, Nick turned to see, not only Warrick, but Greg Sanders as well. The younger man was waving his arms wildly, while the other man seemed to be edging away, trying to create distance between them, as if to say, he's not with me, I swear. Smiling, Nick gave his head a slight shake. He'd only been gone for a few days, but he had truly missed his friends.

Moving to join them, he and Warrick did the shoulder-bump, slap-each-other-on-the-back-thing that seemed to be the accepted masculine equivalent of a hug. Greg, on the other hand, gave Nick the real thing, a full body hug, apparently not caring that people were starting to stare at the three men.

"Thanks for picking me up," Nick said, when Greg had finally released him. "I know this is prime sleep time for you guys."

"Don't worry about it, man, that's what friends are for. Besides Greg and I both have the night off," Warrick said. "But, hey, you're looking good. Those welts look to be completely healed."

"Uh, yeah," Nick breathed, suddenly self-conscious.

"Uh, Catherine and Sara wanted to be here too, but your father called last night and warned us not to overwhelm you," Greg said, trying to cover the sudden tension in the air.

"My father called you guys?"

"Well, he called and talked to Grissom..." Greg let his voice trail off as he belatedly realized that he had said the wrong thing, making the tension worse, not better.

"Look, don't worry about it," Warrick said quickly. "Everything's fine. Listen, what do you say we go grab something to eat. I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving."

"No, thanks," Nick said, as the three men started out of the terminal toward the area where Warrick had parked his SUV. "I really just want to get home and lay down. I'm really tired."

"Long flight?" Warrick asked.

"Don't ask."

"You guys don't have to stick around, you know," Nick said. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to lie down for a while."

The three men were seated in Nick's living room. Greg had been telling the other two about the latest video games he had purchased and brought with him. When it had become apparent that neither Greg nor Warrick were planning on leaving anytime soon, Nick had decided to try tactfully asking them to leave.

It was nothing personal against his friends. It was just that he was tired of being fussed over and he really just wanted to be alone for a while. For the last two days of his stay in Dallas, his family had barely let him out of their sights. Someone even checked on him while he was sleeping. The only place they had allowed him to be alone was the bathroom. In those two days, he had taken several very long showers.

"Oh, well, it's no big deal. We don't mind keeping you company," Warrick said dismissively.

"Yeah, well, that's the thing; I don't really want any company right now. I'm sorry, guys, I don't mean to be rude, but I'd really kind of like to be alone."

The other two men exchanged uncomfortable glances and Warrick said, "Yeah, uh, here's the deal; your dad also told Grissom about the incident with the gun... Look, man, we're not leaving. Like I said earlier, Greg and I have the night off. Day shift is helping out with covering all our shifts. Catherine said she'd come by in the morning after she got Lindsey off to school... Sorry, dude, you're stuck with us."

I don't believe this, Nick thought. I should have seen this coming. I should have known that my father wouldn't just let that incident go. I should have known he'd make arrangements to have his wishes carried out.

"So, Grissom doesn't trust me to be alone either?" Nick asked out loud. "How long are you guys going to keep doing this?"

"I don't know, probably until you start your sessions with Janine and she says you're okay."

Abruptly standing, Nick went to his bedroom. He returned a moment later with his service gun in its holster. He handed the weapon to Warrick.

"You should probably lock this up, since apparently I can't be trusted with it," he said, his voice dripping with bitterness. "There's also a back-up gun over there in the drawer. You don't want to miss that!" He pointed to the small end table where the telephone sat.

"Nick, you don't have to do this. No one's say-."

The Texan cut the other man off with a curt gesture. He turned on his heel and returned to his bedroom. And this time the other two heard the door close firmly behind him.

"Well, that went well," Greg said dryly.

"Can't say that I really blame him," Warrick said. "I don't think I'd be too pleased about a bunch of people making themselves at home in my place, whether I liked it or not."

"What, you think we should leave?"

"Hell, no, I'm not leaving him alone right now! He can try to throw my ass out if he wants, but I'm bigger than him and I'm not leaving. Listen, Greg, if you're not comfortable with this, you can take off. I understand, this is a touchy area. I'll stay here alone."

"No, no, I'm staying!" the younger man said quickly.

"Good man."

The two men spent the next couple of hours playing video games on Nick's game system, while their 'host' remained shut up in his room. About mid-afternoon, when Warrick's stomach began rumbling, he remembered that he hadn't eaten all day.

Turning to Greg, he said, "Hey, you getting hungry?"

"Yeah, I could eat."

"Cool, how 'bout I go make a pizza run or something?"

"You think we should ask Nick if he wants something? I doubt he's eaten anything for quite a while and it's not like there's any food in the house."

Both men glanced toward the bedroom then back at each other. By unspoken consent, they each raised a fist in preparation for rock, paper, scissors. Warrick made the sign for rock, while Greg opted for paper, thus winning the game. With a sigh, the older man stood and headed toward the bedroom.

Knocking softly, he said, "Yo, Nick, I'm going for pizza. You want anything?"

When there was no answer, he knocked again. "Nick?"

Trying the door handle, he was somewhat surprised to find it unlocked. Opening the door, he stepped into the room, which was dark. The lights were out and the heavy curtains drawn. Nick was sprawled out on the double bed, sleeping soundly. He had stripped down to a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.

"Nick?" Warrick called softly.

Getting no response, he started to turn to head back out of the room, when he spotted a plastic prescription bottle sitting on the nightstand. Picking it up, he saw that it was for sleeping pills, the heavy duty kind. The bottle was nearly empty. How long has Nick been taking these, he wondered.

The sky above was a flawless, liquid blue, a fathomless ocean he could fall upward into, free of the confining plastic prison that bound him to the earth. Once again, he was lying at the bottom of the steep-sided pit, staring up at a sky he couldn't reach. The faces of his friends were there once more at the top of the pit, as was the priest with the unseen face.

The priest was speaking, but this time Nick paid no attention to his words. He was trying to get free of the box. Unlike the previous dream, he could move this time, but he couldn't seem to get out of his prison. There was no lid to the plastic coffin. He could see his freedom right there before him and yet, he couldn't reach it. He was trapped in the box by some invisible barrier. He could see his friends, but they couldn't seem to see him.

As he saw them turning to walk away, his movements became more frantic. They were going to leave him behind. They were going to leave him to die! Didn't they see him? Panic flared within him. He needed to get out now! He needed this to end, now.

Don't leave me here! his mind screamed, but no one seemed to hear. In his frantic flailing, his hand touched the cold metal of his gun. He grabbed onto it as if it were a lifeline. Yes, this would end, now, one way or another.

Suddenly, he saw Grissom's face above him, inches from his own. He had no idea how it got there, but there it was. He couldn't touch the other man. The invisible barrier still held him captive and separated them, but he could hear the man's words.

"You have to hold still. You're going to have to stay there for a little bit longer... Poncho, stop moving!"

Those last three words seemed to jolt into him like electricity, touching some primal chord within him. But how could he stop moving? If he stopped moving, he'd die. He knew he would. His hand still clutched the gun. He had always trusted Grissom implicitly. How could the man ask him to simply lie still while they left him to die? How could Grissom betray him this way?

He saw his former boss' face disappear from his view, as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving him alone. The others were gone as well. He was alone, alone in a plastic box with his gun...

"No!"

He sat up in his bed, his body covered in sweat and shaking violently. The explosion of the gun's report was still ringing in his ears. He had to run a shaking hand over his head to make sure that it was still intact, that he hadn't really blown the top of his skull off. He flinched violently when the bedroom door was flung open and both Warrick and Greg burst into the room.

"Nick, it's okay," Warrick said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "We're here. You're safe. We got your back."

Still shaking uncontrollably, Nick hugged his arms around his chest and began rocking slightly back and forth. He didn't fight when the other man pulled him close, burying his face in Warrick's shoulder. All the while the taller man repeated his mantra, "You're safe. I got your back, man. I got your back."

He didn't know how long they sat this way, before his mind gradually calmed. As his panic receded, it was quickly replaced with humiliation. He had just made a complete ass of himself in front of two of his closest friends and co-workers. How could he ever live this down? Wasn't it bad enough that they had all seen him panicked and out of his mind during the hostage crisis, did he have to reenact it for them, live and in person?

Close on the heels of his humiliation, came irritation. He hadn't invited them to stay with him. They had simply made themselves at home. Why, so they could amuse themselves watching him fall apart? He was doing that just fine on his own, he didn't need an audience. And although he knew in the rational part of his mind that they hadn't abandoned him that night, they had saved his life, he couldn't seem to let go of the image of them leaving him in the box.

Slowly, he pushed himself away from the other man, who was still holding him. Nick kept his eyes averted, not daring to meet Warrick's gaze.

"You okay now?" his friend asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Nick said tightly, still not meeting the other man's eyes and very much aware of Greg standing awkwardly beside the bed.

"You want to talk about it?" Warrick asked gently.

"No, I'm sorry, I just want to be alone... Please... just leave me alone." As he spoke, Nick reached for the bottle of sleeping pills on the nightstand. It was gone.

"I have the pills," Warrick said. "I don't think you should take any more today. I think you've had enough."

Nick gave a soft, bitter laugh and shook his head. He didn't need this. He just wanted to sleep, undisturbed by haunting memories. Was that too much to ask for? He didn't need the drama or the hassle. He just wanted to be left alone.

"Get out," he said softly.

"Nick..."

"I said, get out!" he yelled. "Get out of my room and get the hell out of my goddamn house!" Turning his back on his fellow CSIs, he flopped down on the bed, effectively dismissing them.

When Warrick appeared ready to continue the confrontation, Greg grabbed his arm. "Come on, let's go," he said quietly, gently pulling the older man toward the door.

Once they were back in Nick's living room, Warrick began pacing the perimeter of the small room in agitation. Greg watched this for a minute before saying, "Don't be angry with Nick. He's just scared."

"I'm not angry." Seeing the skeptical look on Greg's face, he admitted, "Okay, I'm angry, but not with Nick. I'm angry with this whole messed up situation. I'm angry at that sonofabitch, Gordon, for causing all this! ... But I'm not angry at Nick. I know he's scared. Hell, I'm scared, too. You didn't see it, Greg. You weren't down there in that hole when we first found him. He had his gun pressed up under his chin. If it had taken us five minutes longer to find him..."

"But it didn't. We found him and he's okay... relatively speaking..."

Warrick smiled bitterly at that comment and sank down wearily on the couch. He was exhausted. How was it that dealing with heavy emotional stuff always seemed to wipe you out physically? Resting his elbows on his knees, he lowered his head into his hands.

"Hey, why don't you go for a walk?" Greg suggested. "You know, clear your head a bit. I'll stay here with our little ray of sunshine."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I think I'll take you up on that offer. Thanks, man."

As Greg had anticipated, it only took a few minutes, from the time the door had closed behind Warrick, for Nick to emerge from the bedroom. If he was surprised or disappointed to find Greg still there, he gave no indication. He glanced around the living room.

"Did Warrick leave?" he asked.

"Yeah, he went for a walk, but he'll be back in a little bit. He didn't leave for good. You're not getting rid of us that easily. Like he said, you're stuck with us... So, did we pass the test?"

"What?"

"Come on, that's what you were doing back there, wasn't it? Trying to see if you could push us away, testing the limits of our friendship?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Nick said, while thinking to himself that perhaps he did. But he wasn't so petty that he would deliberately provoke his friends, just to gage their reaction, was he?

"Look, man, even if that was what you were doing, it's okay. I understand. You've been through some pretty rough shit. You're not sure where you stand anymore. I know. I've been there. You know, my little explosion at the lab?"

"Oh, shit, Greg, that's right. I forgot all about that..."

"Yeah, don't worry about it. You've had a few other things on your mind... Now, I know that what I went through was nothing like what you did, but I have stared Death in the face. Okay, so it was only for a few seconds... not over 24 hours... I do have an idea of what you're going through and any time you want to talk, I'm here."

Nick sank down heavily on the couch, with a sigh. "Aw, man, Greg, I have been acting like such an ass to you and Warrick all day. I'm sorry, dude."

"It's okay. We understand. Like I said, you've been dealing with some major emotional shit. You're allowed to be selfish for a while." Seeing the confused look on the other man's face, Greg asked, "You come from a big family, right?"

"Yeah, I'm the youngest of seven, why?"

"Wow, no, I suppose no one ever has told you that it was okay to be selfish once in a while, have they?"

"...No..."

"Well, I hereby give you permission to be selfish for... the next few months. Think of it as a 'get out of jail, free' card. Nick has permission to be a total dick for... hmm, I don't know how long. After all, we can't have you abusing this power. You must promise to only use this power for good."

Nick laughed and shook his head. It was the first laugh he'd had in... years it seemed. It felt good. But he couldn't help wondering how long this good humor would last. Lately he felt like his emotions were completely out of his control and he knew the darkness was still lurking close by.

"Hey, what do you say I kick your ass at NHL Hockey?" Greg asked.

"Oh, not in my house!"

When Warrick returned to the house, an hour later, he found Greg sitting on the floor, playing video games and Nick sound asleep on the couch. He had definitely missed something during his walk.

"How did you...?" he asked softly, gesturing to Nick.

"I got the mojo..." Greg said smugly, giving a slight shrug.

"Evidently..." Warrick said, his voice tinged with a slight bitterness.

"Don't sweat it, man. He'd calmed down by the time you left. We talked. He apologized."

"Oh, and I missed that?"

"He apologized to you, too. You just weren't here..."

"I don't get it. He bites my head off, but he talks to you. I thought I was his best friend," Warrick said, lowering himself to sit beside the younger man.

"Maybe I'm less threatening."

"Threatening? You saying Nick's afraid of me?"

"No, that's not it. I just meant that, maybe, Nick doesn't think of me as competition. I mean, you don't let on to your weaknesses during a big game, right? No, you keep your game face on."

Warrick gave a reluctant shrug. "Yeah, I guess you got a point. You know, sometimes I really think it would just be easier to be a woman. They're allowed to show their emotions."

"Yeah, but I'm sorry, man, you'd make an ugly chick."

The bigger man raised an eyebrow and fixed his companion with a hard stare. "I'll give you ugly..." he said in a mock threatening tone.

"Hey, you'll wake up Nick!"

"You're lucky, Sanders."

To be continued...