Chapter Fifteen

As soon as Nick opened the door, Gil knew this visit was not going to go as well as he had hoped.

Nick wasn't standing in his doorway in a way that said to him, 'won't you please come into my home'...it was more like 'I'm holding the door open to humor you, but don't think for a second that I'm happy about it.' "Hey."

It was obviously forced, no attempt at a pleasant tone. Gil swallowed. This was not the kind of thing that he was good at. He would have much rather had Warrick or Catherine make the trip over, but both had strongly refused.

"Sorry, Gris," Warrick had said, shaking his head, "but I'm not gonna be the one to mess him up anymore."

Catherine had been silent until Warrick's comment, which seemed to have given her the courage to speak her mind, as well. "Count me out," she had said. It was all she'd said, and it was enough.

Gil hadn't even entertained the idea of speaking with Greg or Sara about it. Sara was still so upset that she wasn't even speaking with any of them, and Greg had unfortunately been kept out of the loop on things, and Gil assumed any spontaneous involvement on his part now would only work to further frustrate Nick. Plus, there was work in the lab to think of. Only a couple of minor cases, and Gil had split the four of them into teams of two and sent them out, and he had headed over to Nick's.

Gil was an intelligent man, and whether or not they believed it, he cared about each member of his team. He hadn't set Nick up an appointment with just any old psychologist, but an old friend, with whom he had discussed the situation at some length. Gil wasn't surprised by the call.

"Gil Grissom."

"Gil, how are you?"

"We only just spoke a few hours ago, Wyatt."

"Yes, well, some people appreciate these types of common pleasantries." There was a constant cheerfulness in his friend's voice. "I was calling to let you know that you were right."

This news did not make Gil smile. This was one thing he'd hoped to be wrong about. "When did he call?"

"Not too long ago, my receptionist just gave me the message."

Gil rubbed the bridge of his nose. "He cancelled?"

"Sure did."

Just as he thought he would.

"Becky says he told her that he would reschedule when he could fit it in."

Gil sighed. "He won't, Wyatt."

"That's what you said."

Sometimes, although he would never admit it to anyone, Gil really hated being right.

Nick held the door open, using his arm as a kind of unwelcoming barrier into his house. It was amazing that even with everything that he'd recently been through, he had the energy and determination to appear so strong and, in this instance, angry. His face was tired yet set. His posture slumped yet tall. "Did you need something?"

"Yes, actually. May I come in?"

Nick raised his eyebrows as if to say 'Are you kidding me?' Outwardly, he shrugged. "Sure."

He paused just a moment, and then stepped back to let Gil in. As soon as he entered, Nick shut the door, perhaps a little too roughly, and faced him with arms crossed. "What's up, Grissom?"

Such a small statement, and yet it managed to get Gil right in the heart, something he wasn't expecting. He was never 'Grissom' to Nick, but had forever been 'Gris.' Gil didn't know the absence of such a seemingly insignificant nickname would hit him like this. They really and truly had screwed up. "How's your head?"

Again, Nick shrugged. The international symbol for being unsympathetic, unresponsive, and uninterested. "Popped a couple aspirin. Thinkin' some sleep might help." And there it was. Subtle, but it was there. The accusation.

"Really, Nick. This wasn't our intention." Having not been invited further into the house, or offered to take a seat, Gil stood inside the doorway, shifting uncomfortably.

"And what was your intention?"

Gil took note, not for the first time, just how much thicker Nick's accent got when he was upset or frustrated. He'd barely opened his mouth before Nick continued.

"No, wait, I get it. To help me."

Completely taken aback by Nick's uncharacteristic hostility, Gil frowned. "It's true."

Nick smiled. "Sorry, but I don't need it." With that, he turned to the door and held it open, a gesture to let Gil know that it was time for him to leave.

But Gil Grissom wasn't done yet. "I set up that appointment for a reason, Nick."

Nick frowned. "What are you talking about?" Then he shook his head. He flung the door shut and crossed his arms defensively again. "What, do you have eyes and ears everywhere? Watching me, checking up on me?"

Gil shook his head. "No, Nick. I just know you."

"You don't." He didn't sound so convinced.

"You cancelled the appointment."

"Don't need it."

"And just what is it that you think you do need, Nick?" Gil was getting really annoyed with his constant denial and stubbornness. In Gil's eyes, Nick's thoughts on what he needed were distorted, and he didn't know what was best for himself right now. He didn't know just how far gone he was, and Gil wasn't going to risk losing him completely. Not when he felt responsible.

Nick and Gil were squared off, something that had never really happened before. They'd had their disagreements over cases, sure, and Nick had stood up to him before but something about this felt different. Mostly, because Gil could feel the anger radiating off of the younger man.

Nick was not, by nature, an angry person. But here, he was furious. Gil could only imagine how betrayed he must have felt, and he was sorry for causing those feelings. These were the kinds of things that Gil wanted to articulate, but could never seem to find the words.

Nick glared at him. "I don't need this."

Gil took the hint. Disappointed in both Nick and himself, he moved for the door. He paused on the threshold. "I can't even begin to imagine the things you're going through, but it doesn't have to be this hard."

Nick stared at him, and though something dulled in his eyes, his face remained set.

Gil looked out the open door, into the empty, peaceful street. "We're not going to go away."

Answered with only silence, Grissom stepped out. He was shutting the door when it was stopped.

Nick caught the shutting door with his hand. He had to look away when Grissom looked up. "Thanks," he said.

It was a good thing that was all he'd planned to say, because he didn't think that he would have been able to get anything else out. The one word itself caught in his throat and he had to swallow hard.

Grissom smiled and nodded, and for a moment, Nick thought that was that. But no, Grissom had to say something. One more little stab, even if the man didn't see his words like that. "Why don't you take a couple of days off and cool down."

Nick had to swallow again. "Yeah, sure. Whatever." And he shut the door.

He found himself leaning heavily against it as soon it shut. He didn't think he'd hit his head that hard, but all that standing and talking and glaring and defying had really taken it out of him.

Nick found himself laughing bitterly. Grissom would never learn. Every time Nick thought he was getting somewhere, Grissom said something that just pushed him right back down. It hadn't always been like that. Gil Grissom's words used to inspire Nick to do better, but somewhere along the line, they stopped being pick-ups and started being put-downs. Like this. No one was harder on Nick than himself, but it sure felt like Grissom tried.

In a better state of mind, Nick would have taken Grissom's words the way that he'd probably intended them. As a simple show of concern, the only way the man knew how, offering Nick a couple of days to collect himself, and not return so quickly to the stares and questions of the lab. Even though these were never the words that Grissom would use.

Since the words he actually said were so vague, and Nick was so down already, he took the words a different way. He heard disappointment, a reluctance to let him work, as though he couldn't handle it. Maybe Grissom was right. He did need to cool down. He was always wound so tight, and so stressed. He really didn't want to take the time off of work, but maybe if Grissom thought it was best…

Nick was too exhausted to notice his train of thought leading him right back to what he was trying to get away from. He leaned his head back against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. He hadn't truly fallen asleep when his home phone started ringing.

He reached for the phone, fumbling a bit. "Hello."

"Hey, man. How you doin'?"

Nick stretched and popped his neck. "Good, I guess."

"You get any rest?"

"A little. Gris came by."

Warrick's silence told Nick that he already knew.

Too tired to really care, Nick sighed. "I'm not gonna yell at you, 'Rick."

Warrick laughed nervously on the line.

"No, really, I'm not. Think I'm just gonna try and sleep." Nick pulled the blanket onto his lap.

"All right. Call me if you need anything."

"I will." Not. Nick hung up and tossed the phone over onto the table, and practically fell over on the couch. Once again, his bedroom just seemed too far.

He thought that he was going to fall asleep right away again, but this was not the case. One thought kept popping into his head.

Maybe they were right.

To be continued...