Chapter Eight

It happened before Warrick had time to think, or plan, or take a full breath.

Something inside of him snapped. The same something that had sent Dominick Hale home with a bloody nose in the fifth grade, that had landed him a two-day suspension freshman year of high school after a locker-room confrontation after gym class.

In that moment, he had just flat-out reached his limit. A man could not be expected to keep his frustrations inside forever. A release was needed, or he would go crazy.

Warrick remembered thinking on more than one occasion that Nick needed some sense knocked into him, but he been thinking in metaphorical terms; he had never intended for something like this to happen. He'd never thought there was a chance that it ever could.

Warrick and Nick had gotten into their fair share of scuffles on the ball court, or exchanged friendly shoves during a game of one-on-one Madden mania…but nothing had ever culminated in one actually striking the other. It was natural that they wouldn't know how to react.

Nick looked like someone had shot his dog rather than socked him in the jaw. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide and awestruck. His hand ghosted around the angry red mark on his face, not really touching but definitely acknowledging that this had actually just happened.

Warrick was beyond shocked at himself and his actions, betrayed by his right hand, which suddenly felt very heavy and like nothing more than a burden, one he didn't want anymore. He didn't know what to do now, how to even begin to explain his actions, let alone apologize. He had never imagined the two of them would be standing in this moment. "Nicky, I – "

"Don't," Nick said, sounding neither angry nor upset. In fact, he didn't sound like Nick at all. His voice was hollow, and Warrick found it immensely difficult to look him in the eyes.

Neither man moved. Warrick studied the linoleum floor, and he could feel Nick's unmoving eyes focusing on the top of his head. He wished more than anything for Nick to hit him back. He wished Nick would do anything besides just stand there, dumbfounded, or worse, like he'd deserved it. Nick was a reserved kind of guy, yeah, but he, like Warrick, had a limit. Warrick was sure that this should have pushed him to it, but still, Nick didn't move.

A minute passed. Then five. Warrick wasn't going to be the first to move, because he didn't want his friend to think that he could just walk away from something like this so easily. Besides, he couldn't if he wanted to. His legs felt heavy, lead-laden. He opened his mouth to speak on more than one occasion, but couldn't get anything out.

So he stood.

Nick couldn't get his mind to stop racing long enough to focus on any single thought. Actually, he could get one: what the hell just happened?

His jaw was throbbing, but he wasn't focusing on that. He was just staring, and didn't know what he was waiting for. Not for Warrick to apologize, because he'd already put a quick end to that. He wasn't sure why he'd interrupted Warrick. Warrick should apologize. A tiny voice nagged Nick: maybe because you deserved it.

He knew he'd been keeping his friends in the dark on a lot of things lately but until this week, everything had been running pretty smoothly. They didn't ask, and he didn't tell. It was like his friends had just this week remembered what had happened to him, and became concerned.

He'd reacted. He balled himself up even more than he had already been, and pulled away. He got angry and defensive. He repressed. And now he regressed. How childish to taunt Warrick like that. Nick knew exactly why he'd done it, because he had known that there was not a chance in hell that Warrick would actually hit him.

So Nick was left wondering, what the hell just happened?

Forever ticked by before either of them made a move.

Nick stared as Warrick lifted his head slightly and gave a small sigh. Not one of regret, or frustration, but of defeat. Something had beaten him. He was going to speak, and Nick was going to let him this time. He didn't have the willpower to get himself to stop him again.

"Nick." Warrick paused, waited for the interruption.

Nick stayed silent.

"That was…" Warrick trailed off, as if searching for the right word.

"Just say it, 'Rick," Nick croaked out, as though he hadn't spoken in weeks. His voice did not sound at all like his own.

"Say what?"

"That I had it coming."

Warrick looked taken aback. "No." He shook his head, over and over. "No." He still couldn't find that word he'd been searching for, and he slipped back into silence, after emitting once more, "No."

Nick didn't have the strength for the silence. He was beaten down, figuratively and literally. He was done. Miraculously, his pager beeped. He was supposed to get back with Hodges about the tire treads. His mind wandered to everyone out there, everything that was going on outside of the room, and how he was supposed to be a part of it. Not here, he wasn't supposed to be here.

Wherever 'here' was.

After a few tries, Nick got his feet to move. He moved past Warrick. He may or may not have said something…he didn't remember.

He moved out the door. His hand worked the handle easily, on the first try, better than he would have given it credit for.

And he moved back out into the lab. Where everyone was expecting him to be moving on.

Somehow, Warrick found his way into the break room. Nick had paused in the locker room and made eye contact for just the briefest of moments and something else inside of Warrick had snapped.

The look in Nick's eyes…he'd looked lost. Abandoned, was more like it. Warrick had let him down.

He sank heavily into a chair and watched the movement out in the halls, wondering if anyone knew, what they would say, what they would think. He was so invested in watching the movement outside of the room that he didn't notice someone coming into the room.

"Warrick? God, what's wrong?" Catherine quickly sat across from him and immediately took his hands in hers. He wrenched his eyes off of the window and met hers. The simple movement caused tears to well in his eyes.

"You look…"

She didn't have to finish. He knew how he looked. Like someone he loved had just died.

Warrick gave a small, sad laugh, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. He couldn't look at her any longer.

"I think I broke him."

To be continued...