Chapter Five

When Gil Grissom stalked into the crime lab that night, he had certainly been in better moods. He was tired and cranky and sore from sitting in the plane seat for so long. He wasn't tired from the plane ride, had actually gotten in a nice little nap during the flight. It was two nights ago that he'd been rudely awakened by his cell phone…twice.

Out of town conferences were a nice break from the unconventional sleeping patterns the graveyard shift kept, and Gil had been looking forward to sleeping through the night. He wasn't nearly as young as he used to be, and it always made him feel like he was getting more rest, even though his body usually required less on these trips. It just seemed more natural to sleep during the night, so he slept better.

He shouldn't have been surprised to receive at least one call from his team. And he shouldn't have been surprised that the call would come at two in the morning, as that was when they were wide-awake and working.

"Grissom," he'd grumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"It's Sara. Were you sleeping?"

"Yes." He didn't care if he sounded annoyed.

"Oh, sorry."

She definitely did not sound sorry.

Gil squinted at the clock on the bedside table. "Did you need something?" He pushed himself up in bed and switched on the lamp by the bed.

"Yeah. Actually I wanted to talk to you about Nick."

At two in the morning? But his curiosity, if not his nerves, were peaked by the tone of her voice. "What about Nick?" he asked, more gently.

"He threatened a suspect tonight. A kid."

Gil rubbed his eyes. "What did he say, exactly?"

"It's not what he said."

Gil frowned. Sara seemed reluctant to be telling him this. "What are you talking about?"

There was silence on the other end.

"Sara?" he prompted.

"He grabbed him and slammed him into a wall."

He must have heard her wrong. Nick had always handled himself extremely professionally with suspects. If he had ever shown any fault during an interview or interrogation, it was the connection he strived to create, to get close to each victim, and even most suspects. He kept his cool like the best of them.

"Sara, I'm sure it wasn't that dramatic." He pulled back the comfortable hotel blankets and shuffled over to the mirror on the wall, studying the bags under his eyes.

"I'm telling you, Grissom, he's losing it."

"I think he's been handling himself very well considering the circumstances." He padded back over the bed and sat on the edge.

"Yeah, well, you weren't here this week."

There was something accusatory about her tone, and Gil's frown deepened. Sara sighed on the other end of the line.

"He's been so out of it. He was ignoring the evidence and – "

"Are you wanting me to talk to him?" Gil stretched out. Sara sighed again, this time out of relief.

"I think that would help."

"Okay, when I get back. I'll see you in a few days." He disconnected the call quickly and settled back under the covers, breathing deeply.

It wasn't fifteen minutes later, just as he was starting to doze again, that his phone rang once more.

"Yeah," Gil answered, hoping that his annoyance was obvious to the caller.

"Hello to you, too."

Gil pretended that Catherine was standing where the Monet print was hanging on the wall and glared at it. "You do realize that I'm trying to sleep, right?"

"Yes, and I didn't care. Why did you blow off Sara when she called you?"

Gil rolled his eyes at her first comment and sighed at her second. "Because it's two-thirty in the morning and because I think she's overreacting."

"What, you don't believe her?"

"I don't believe that Nick would act like that with a suspect," Gil said patiently.

"Well, believe it."

Gil was quiet. Hearing something from Sara was one thing, she was always reading too deeply into every little thing. Hearing something from Catherine was completely different.

"Thankfully, the kid isn't pressing charges."

"It was that serious?" Gil's ears perked up.

Catherine gave a 'what did you think we were calling you for?' snort.

He started to take this seriously. "We can't be taking risks like that, even to get information. Nick should know that."

"Yeah, he should."

Gil assured Catherine that he would remind him and hung up. He waited for about five minutes, watching the phone, daring it to ring again. When it didn't, he'd shut the light off again and stretched out.

"Hey," Gil said now, leaning in the doorway of Catherine's office.

She looked up and smiled. "How was your trip?"

Gil shrugged. "It was a nice break. Got some rest," he added with a pointed look.

It didn't faze Catherine. "Nick's out at a scene. He and Warrick should be back any time." She frowned as Gil looked away. "You are still going to talk to him, right?"

Gil sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

Catherine slammed her pen down onto her desk. "I don't care what the hell you say, but you need to say something."

"Hey, guys," Nick appeared behind Gil, carrying a couple of evidence bags. His smile faded when he saw his supervisors' expressions.

He visually stiffened and swallowed. "Hey, Gris. Have a nice trip?"

"It was fine, Nick. How was your week?"

Nick glanced uneasily at Catherine, as if wary to answer the question with her in the room. "Can't complain," he said in a small voice, adding a tight smile.

Catherine glared in their direction, but Gil wasn't sure which of them it was aimed at. Everyone was quiet for a moment.

Nick shifted from foot to foot. "I'd better get to work on this evidence." He slowly started backing away, and when neither senior CSI objected, he turned and hurried down the hall.

"You men," Catherine gritted, stabbing at a file with her pen, "are unbelievable." She refused to make eye contact with Gil.

"Cath – "

"No. You're not going to 'Cath' your way out of this one. You told me that you were going to talk to him."

"And I will," Gil said, his eyes wide.

Catherine squinted at him. "I can tell you're lying right now. Once again, you're going to let your lacking social and emotional skills get in the way of helping someone who needs it. I'm disappointed in you." She slammed her file shut and picked it up, rising from her chair.

Gil watched her, eyes still wide, as she stalked across the small office.

Catherine's eyes were icy cold as they locked with his. "Maybe we should all take to your approach and just stand by and let Nick run himself into the ground." With that, she pushed past him and stomped down the hall, her heels clicking loudly on the tile.

Gil rubbed a hand over his face. He told himself that Nick couldn't possible being doing as bad as his coworkers were making it sound, and Catherine was just trying to guilt him into talking to Nick, which he really was planning on doing. Things like this just took time to prep for. He wanted to take the time to think about and prepare what he wanted to say to the young man.

One-on-one talks weren't exactly his forte.

If you want something done, you're going to have to do it yourself, Catherine thought as she stormed through the halls of the lab, scanning the various rooms. She spotted Nick and Warrick in a lab room, laughing over something, and she barely paused.

"Nick, get your ass out here."

Both men looked at her wide-eyed. Nick's jaw dropped. "Cath, I need to – "

"Now." She could hear the two of them saying something as she continued down the hall, but wasn't really focusing on it. She found an empty work room and waited with crossed arms.

Nick entered slowly, glancing around the room as though checking for booby-traps. He stopped just inside the doorway, his arms hanging uncomfortably at his sides.

"What the heck is going with you lately?" Catherine asked. It perhaps wasn't the best way to start the conversation, but Catherine was never one to sugar coat what she had to say.

Nick frowned. "Where is this coming from?"

"Come on, Nick. You know Sara talked to me about the other night."

Nick mirrored her posture and crossed his arms. "That was two nights ago. I apologized, and last I heard everything was fine."

"The case is fine. I'm more worried about you." Catherine took a few steps back and sat on the edge of the table, bracing her arms on either side of her body.

Nick's eyes were sharp, even though his shoulders sagged. "I've told you guys, I'm doing just fine. I don't need everyone constantly breathing down my neck and pulling me aside."

"What do you need?"

"I need you guys to believe me when I tell you that I'm fine, instead of hunting me down for these little talks."

There was an edge in his voice that Catherine wasn't used to hearing. She sat silent for a moment, fuming on the inside, waiting for him to finish his little rant.

He did. "Are you guys ever going to allow me to work a case solo again?"

Catherine felt her temper rising even further. She had thought that he was going to open up to her again, like he did years ago when he told her about something terrible that had happened to him as a child. Instead, he was making it about work. Deflecting her very warranted concern, and distracting her from the real issue.

"Is that what you want?" she asked him. "Fine. I'll pull Warrick and Sara off of that hit and run and you can have it all to yourself."

Nick rolled his eyes. "It was just a question, Cath."

"No, it's what you said you wanted. You've got it." She stood and breezed past him.

"Catherine," Nick called after her.

She didn't stop walking. "When you decide that you actually want to talk, you know where to find me."

To be continued...