A/N: sorry to break up the rhythm, but Warrick gets this chapter as Nick is …umm…unavailable.
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The coin reached its apogee, and returned back to Earth to land in his palm. He quickly inverted his hand onto the back of the other, covering the outcome from view.
He paused, unwilling to commit. Determination lit his green eyes and he pulled his hand away. Kennedy's profile stared back up at him. Before he could fully work out the ramifications of his ill advised wager a commotion out in the ambulance bay caught his attention. It was Archie with Nick's folks. And the news vans parked there spilled reporters out in droves to surround them. Warrick slipped the coin back in his pocket and ran over to them, slipping his arm around Mrs. Stokes and helping Archie rush them towards the bay doors to the ER.
Flash bulbs fired off like mini solar flares against the dark of the night. A few reporters that got too close got strong-armed back by the two men amid shouts of, "Mr. and Mrs. Stokes? How does it feel knowing your son was buried alive for twenty-four hours!" and "What is the CSI's condition!"
"He's not a CSI! He's their son. Back off! I said, 'Back the fuck, off!'"
They made it to the haven of the doors and a few of the cops that had been waiting around were attracted by the shouting and placed their uniformed bulks in front of the doors like Rottweilers, arms crossed over their chests, daring any of the reporters to try to enter the ER.
Once in the relative quiet of the waiting area they stopped, gathering their bearings. Judge Stokes turned to Archie and Warrick and thanked them for their assistance. Then, gently taking his wife's arm, he steered her towards the front desk to get an update on their son's condition.
Warrick knew the charge nurse had just broken the news of Nick's downturn when he saw Jillian Stokes crumple against her husband's shoulder, her body trembling with silent sobs.
He turned away from the sight, not knowing Nick's parents well enough to feel comfortable offering any support. He instead turned to Archie and stuck his hand out. "Thanks for bringing them, Man. I forget sometimes that people have family outside of us."
Archie mumbled something about it being all right and just wanting to help. It dawned on Warrick that of them all, Archie had spent the most time with Nick, albeit at the other end of the web-cam. But the AV Tech had spent the last day pretty much keeping vigil at the computer screen. He would have seen what Warrick had seen… the sight of Nick ready to give up, with his gun shoved against his chin. In fact…from his view, he would have seen the end when the grave blew up…
"How did you know we were here, Arch? I mean, how did you know we got him out?"
"I didn't. I saw you and Grissom open the box, and once the lid was open, the feed was in the lid… so then my view was of Grissom talking to Nick, then the carabiner…then …well ... you know… boom. I didn't know what to tell his folks. I was pretty much just waiting for a call. Grissom called me from the truck on his way over here. So…how is Nick doing?"
Warrick filled him in as best he could, itching to tell him about the coin toss, but at the last minute realizing how insane it would sound. How could he tell people he knew Nick was gonna make it, 'cuz of a coin toss?
Warrick walked over with Archie to rejoin the rest of the group. Catherine approached Warrick, slipping her arm around his middle. "Did you get some air? Do you any good?"
"Yeah, Cath. It did me good. Remember, I made you a promise. Our boy is gonna be just fine. You wait. You'll see," he reassured her, giving her a squeeze back.
"I wish I had your confidence, Rick. You got a connection with the Big Guy upstairs?" she asked, looking up at the ceiling, then back into his eyes. There was such calmness there. Serenity in the midst of the tempest of worry and fear written over the rest of their faces.
"Nah. Just a feeling, I guess."
Half an hour later, a doctor approached Nick's parents, Jillian's hands visibly tightening on her husband's arm. From the slight relaxation of their demeanors, it appeared that the news was favorable. The team got up in unison, taking hesitant steps towards the three. Jillian turned towards the group and, recognizing their concern and eagerness for news, she waved them over with a small motion of her hand. She caught a look from her husband, but merely patted his back in a gentle effort to shush him. As the group approached the doctor brought them into their discussion. Nick was stable and improving. He'd spend the night in the Cardiac Care Unit so they could monitor his heart, but his cardiac enzymes looked promising- no permanent damage to his heart, and the anaphylaxis had been brought under control. He'd been sedated and there'd be no visitation tonight, but maybe the next day.
Catherine let out a small cry of relief and let out a huge breath. She looked at Warrick, but saw the oddest expression on his face. Confirmation. He had honestly been expecting this news…as if it was a foregone conclusion. When he looked down at her it was gone, replaced by his usual easy smile. He gave her a big smooch on the cheek then bent back with a whoop and a laugh.
Arrangements were hastily made amongst the team to meet up as soon as they had been given the word they could come back to see Nick, then the group slowly dissolved. Catherine went home to smother Lindsey with hugs and kisses, the way she did whenever she had a particularly bad night. Grissom said he'd be going back to the lab, and Sara asked to catch a ride back with him. Greg and Archie would take Nick's parents to the hotel, then probably drink and play video games til dawn. Brass wiped a hand down his face and said something about paperwork and a Scotch.
Warrick debated going home. Then thought about going to Tina's. But they hadn't yet reached that stage where he felt comfortable pouring his heart out to her. Maybe someday…but not tonight. It occurred to him that it would usually be Nick he'd turn to. To share ups and downs. Nick was the only one he'd told about Tina. Nick was the one who stayed with him last year when his Grams was brought into the hospital with pneumonia. He and Nick had celebrated their promotions together, and Nick was the one who was at his side after he'd realized the woman he was falling deeply in like/lust with was a heroin addict.
His whole body felt electrified. He had energy to spare, needed to burn it off…or better yet…keep the high going.
He got into the truck and started driving. Found himself on the strip and was momentarily mesmerized by the flashing neon of the casinos and the garish signage of the XXX shows. But he didn't want tourists. Didn't want to share a bar or a table with a drunken couple from New Jersey here on their tenth wedding anniversary. So he kept driving. And found himself back in his old stomping grounds. He pulled up outside a casino on the outskirts of the neighborhood he grew up in.
Entering the front doors he was struck by how much hadn't changed. Same bar and stools. Same banks of slot machines. Old school slots. None of those fancy video game looking ones. Sevens, bars, and cherries.
A few old-timers perched in front of them, feeding in rolls of quarters. Smoke thicker than fog, tinged with the sharp spicy scent of marijuana. A roulette wheel tended by a guy who looked like he was pulling double duty as the craps dealer. Stevie Wonder on the jukebox…Superstition.
He wandered over to the blackjack table and pulled out a wad of bills. Cashed them in for a hundred bucks in chips. The waitress came over and offered him a drink. He ordered a whiskey and water, knowing here there'd be more water than whiskey in it. He didn't want to dull his edge. Needed to keep the fire going.
First hand, a stiff. Twelve showing. Hit me. He got an eight. Dealer pulled a seventeen. Next hand, a snapper- ace of hearts and the ten of spades. Next hand he had fourteen. The dealer had an eight up. Hit me. He pulled a seven. The dealer showed eighteen.
This continued for the next hour, the pile of chips in front of him steadily growing.
He played silently, intently. No conversation with the dealer. No flirting with the waitress. Staring at the cards. No hesitation.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Bernie, the manager of the casino. Glad-handing him - congratulating him on his streak. Warrick knew he was trying to break his concentration. The manager bought him another whiskey from the bar. Barely touched by water. Too strong. Knew they were trying to get him drunk.
He looked at the pile of chips. He'd amassed five thousand dollars. He sat back. He knew this wasn't a big conglomerate owned casino with a massive bank. This was a penny ante place for the neighbor hood to use. Five large was gonna hurt them. He tossed back the drink and packed up his chips and handed them to the cashier. Tossed the dealer and the waitress a Benjamin each and walked out into the night, his pockets heavy with his winnings, and a single silver dollar coin.