What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Warrick sat stunned by his friend's words, their impact almost physical, delivered like a punch to his gut.
Nick's eyes were impenetrable, dark chocolate orbs piercing, behind narrowed lids. And just as he felt himself reacting by pushing back into the seat, he saw the eyes relax and sadden. It struck him that these sad eyes were the ones he'd been seeing all too often. Even before …
He gathered himself, not willing to be baited into an argument at this time but completely mystified by his friend's pronouncement.
"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" he asked warily.
Nick pulled his eyes away and appeared to stare off through the windshield. Red and blue lights continued to flash, reminding Warrick of the last time he'd noted the presence of so many lights.
There were more that night - a lot more…
"Hey, Nick. You can't say something like that, then drop it like you never said it. You mind telling me what's going on in that head of yours?"
Sighing, and looking like the words were causing him great pain to utter, Nick closed his eyes, and asked a question that had never been voiced before.
"How many people you figure Nigel Crane installed cable for, huh? A thousand? Five thousand? Ten? I mean, he worked for Luna Cable for eleven years. Eleven years, Man. And he stalked me. And Jane Galloway. What are the odds, huh?" At this last there was an odd choked off chuckle.
Warrick closed his eyes and rubbed at his face. He fought the urge to put his hand in his pocket. How many jokes had been cracked about Nick's propensity for getting himself into trouble? About how bad luck seemed to seek him out.
Nick continued, the dam broken, the words flowing like a spring rain swollen river - words cresting and falling, sometimes breeching the banks.
" I mean, I fall for one girl in all the time I've been in Vegas. How many men you figure Kristi slept with? A thousand? Five thousand?" Dark smile. "And I get her killed. And then come that close to losing my job for it- that close to prison for Christ's sake! It'd have been worth it, you know. If I could have saved her. She was so young. She had so much to offer. God, she was beautiful. And she got me. Really got me." His hands wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles whitening, then relaxing.
His head turned toward Warrick and the quiet words he uttered were worse than anything Warrick had heard from his best friend since he'd known him. Worse than seeing Nick sobbing and shaking and begging for release from his grave. Worse than any words they'd exchanged in the multitude of arguments they'd had over the years.
"Sometimes it's hard being your friend."
How the hell do you respond to that? You don't. Warrick sat in silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Do you know what I got for my first evaluation under Grissom? I got a riddle. A stupid fucking riddle that if I'd taken half a second to think about I could've answered. But I wasn't expecting it- figured it's a joke- wait for the punch line. But no. Grissom tells me my wrong answer proves I'm a bad CSI."
His eyes rose to meet Warrick's, leaving him feeling supremely uncomfortable. He knew what was coming next.
"Word is, you got a rare roller-coaster ride with the Big Guy."
He couldn't hide the wince as the words dropped. He couldn't deny it. A riddle? Grissom tested him with a riddle?
"You know when you screwed up and Holly got killed?"
Whoa! Don't hold your punches, Man. Jeez…
"There was a tiny awful evil part of me that hoped you'd finally be the one to get in trouble. To be the screw up. But no. Hell, I'd just earned the Level Three job and Grissom threw you your own promotion to Three. You're Teflon, Man. Adamantium. You could fall in a pile of crap and come up smelling like a rose. I talk for two minutes to a guy I haven't seen since college, and I catch holy hell. Grissom must think I am the biggest waste of time, Man. I know he doesn't think much of me as a CSI, and since that's all that I am, he must not think much of me as a man."
Nick continued relentlessly, his gaze into Warrick's eyes never faltering, "You know, when you started falling for Lillie, I was really jealous. She was gorgeous, Man. God, those eyes! And that voice! But I knew I didn't have a snowball's chance. Jesus, you even play the frickin' piano like a master. How does a guy compete with that? And when it started to dawn on me what was going on with her, I felt horrible. I mean, I pushed you at her. But again, a small part of me I don't even want to admit exists was glad to be the one to help you out. I got to be the rescuer for a change. Do you have any idea how that feels, Rick? To be glad that your best friend is hurting? To be happy that I wasn't Fate's bitch for once? To see the cosmic Karmic scales shift?"
Warrick allowed the words to rain over him, absorbed them into his skin, took them in and tasted them. He recalled the circumstances of the last time he'd examined his history with luck. Standing outside the ER, waiting to find out if Nick would live or die. He'd found the coin in his pocket … had reflected on the good luck he'd had his whole life. It was something he'd always taken for granted. Born under a lucky star. His Grams always told him he was blessed.
"You know, maybe I am a lucky guy, Nick. And maybe you aren't. And maybe we are on two sides of the Karmic scales or whatever. But part of my luck is having you as a friend. Nick, Man. You've proved yourself ten times over to Grissom. Hell, to all of us. You're more than a series of misfortunes. You proved you've got it all over us. Because of what you went through. All of it. You have taken more than your share of shit over the years, yet here you are. Doing the job. Catching the bad guys. And despite what you say, you have been there for me. Lots of times. And I need you to be there for me. We're partners, Bro. Yeah, I got your back, but I know you've got mine. That's all we need. Take the luck as it comes, and roll with the punches."
"You don't understand, Rick. I don't know if I will always have your back. I'm a lightning rod. A freak magnet. A black hole of bad luck, sucking in everyone around me. People around me die. I can't let that happen again. I mean, Grissom almost got blown up when he went to meet Gordon. He almost took all of us when the box exploded. Jane. Kristi… Jesus, even poor Mr. Pearson."
Warrick shook his head, a small smile forming. "Hey, two sides of the scale, right? I'm not scared. I'm adamantium, yeah? What is that …some geek comic reference? Anyway, you can't shove me off. I'm here. Bring it on. I'm not going anywhere, Bro. You're stuck with me. Deal with it."
Nick looked like he was going to disagree, but their conversation was interrupted by a banging on the door. It was Grissom. Warrick hit the down button and the electric window slid open.
The supervisor looked questioningly at the two of them. "What's up, guys? Everything okay?"
"Yeah, Gris. Everything's fine. Sorry. I just got overheated. I was feeling a bit light-headed and Nick was checking up on me. It's all good. We'll be right out to join you."
"I'm glad you guys are cognizant of the effects of heat on the human body. Keep an eye on each other. We've got extreme temperatures out here we're trying to work in and I want everyone on their guard for heat exhaustion. Nick, thanks for looking after Warrick. You guys have water?"
"Yeah, Boss. Thanks. We're good to go," Nick said, raising his bottle as evidence.
"All right then, why don't you two switch off with Greg and Sara. That gaudy monstrosity at least has some impressive central air. Take your turn inside. Then spell the other two. Good?"
"Yeah, Boss. All good."
Grissom slapped the side of the truck and headed back inside to take part in his own advice.
"We are good, right, Bro?" Warrick asked.
"Yeah, sure. All good. Can't wait to see Greg out here for ten minutes. He'll wish he stayed in the nice air-conditioned lab."
A/N: just the epilogue left. Very sad.