Chapter Sixteen

Nick had every intention of taking the couple of days off Grissom had suggested. If not to use the time to clear his head and try to start to thinking more clearly, which would really have been more of a side effect than a specific goal, then to give those in the lab time to cool down, for the gossiping masses to disperse.

Warrick called a few more times that night, and every conversation, ten minutes at the most, was the same. Warrick would inquire as to how he was feeling, to which Nick would reply in the positive, and then some minor attempt at small talk would be made. Surprisingly, it wasn't always Warrick, either. A couple of times, Nick found himself reluctant to end the conversation, and he would ask how things were going in the lab, or if Warrick had gotten a chance to sneak a glance at the basketball game that was on. It was a small sign that he was on the road to forgiving his friend. Nick was kind of surprised it wasn't taking longer, but his subconscious must have finally gotten fed up with pushing people away.

One thing they had yet to talk about was the punch thrown in the locker room. Besides the brief mention that Nick had angrily made during their failed intervention, no one had talked specifics with him about it. Perhaps to keep some semblance of peace among themselves, or maybe they were just afraid what would happen if Ecklie found out.

Every time he hung up the phone, Nick found himself sitting with a heavy feeling in his gut. He could hear all of the things his friends had told him, and while he wanted to remain angry with them, it was getting harder and harder. For the first time he was getting from them a sense of genuine concern for his well-being, rather than disappointment that he wasn't over 'it' already, or pressure to get over 'it' soon, so that they could resume their day-to-day routines without the interference.

This small change in mood provided Nick with enough supporting evidence to entertain the idea that he was going to get better of his own accord. All he had to do was think about things a little more carefully, and stop being such a jackass, and everything would slowly start to fall back into place. He was horribly wrong, but at the time, it seemed like a good plan. Better than calling that therapist back.

Nick chewed his lip and stared at the small, folded piece of paper that still rested on the end table. He could call. He could make an appointment. He drummed his fingers on the armrest of the couch. It was odd to feel so nervous in the familiarity of his own home. It was the thought of that call, and all it entailed; that did it.

Nick snatched up the paper and wadded it up. He didn't throw it away, but it was enough of a symbolic gesture to mean the same as if he had. He was a little surprised at himself for doing it. Grissom had taken the time, shown enough concern, to make the initial appointment for him. However, as soon as his thoughts drifted to Grissom, a small fire of anger sparked back inside of Nick, and he tossed the wad of paper across the room to land unseen behind an armchair.

He was a lot of things, but he was not going to be Grissom's pawn.

Despite the two, or six, aspirin he'd had taken earlier, Nick's head was still pounding considerably. He still hadn't been able to get any sleep in, between his constant thoughts and Warrick's untimely calls.

Nick made the decision to get a little bit of sleep, and then he was definitely going into work the next night. He really was feeling a bit better about the whole situation. He wasn't exactly in any rush to be talked about some more, but maybe he could walk into the lab tomorrow night in the same mood he had today, and it wouldn't be an act.

Warrick and Sara wrapped up the interview and headed back to the lab in silence. Of the two cases he had, Grissom had given them the kidnapped child. The parents were at the station, and were completely distraught. An upset parent was hell on the nerves. Two was just hell.

Warrick checked the time on the dashboard, and reached for his cell phone. Sara rolled her eyes.

"What?" he asked, punching in the same number he'd been calling all night.

"Let him sleep," she answered. "We've got a lot of work to do, and you're not going to get it done worrying."

In all honesty, Sara was worrying a whole hell of a lot more than Warrick was, but she didn't want to admit it. She'd been a mess back at the lab, but they were in the field now, and it was time to try and put all the personal things aside and focus on the case.

Warrick sighed and held onto his phone. "I wanna make sure he's not playing us again."

"You're not going to be able to tell that over the phone," Sara gently reasoned with him.

Warrick nodded. "You're right. I know, you're right. I just don't like that he's sitting home alone after all of this."

Sara looked out the window and watched the nighttime scenery roll past. "I know. But you know that he needs some space."

Warrick looked sharply at her.

"Not a whole lot of space," she quickly added. "We're not going to abandon him or anything. But we can't crowd him so much. He's going to think we're pushing him."

"I don't want him to think that."

"I know you don't, and I don't either." Sara resumed staring out of the window.

The concrete facade of the crime lab came up quickly, almost too quickly. She liked being in the truck with Warrick better than the idea of being in the lab. Despite their numerous efforts, people just couldn't seem to stop talking about how screwed up Graveyard was. Sara had already put to rest a rumor that she was moving back to San Francisco.

Warrick parked and they headed in, and again, they were silent.

Greg and Catherine were on their way out, and they all acknowledged each other with smiles and nods. Any kind of group discussion seemed...wrong.

"I'm gonna check on the prints," Sara mumbled.

Warrick nodded, and she broke off down a hallway.

That left a few impressions from a bike tire for Warrick. Which meant Hodges. Warrick sighed and jerked his head in greeting to the obnoxious tech.

Hodges raised his eyebrows. "Warrick."

He propped his elbows up on the table, interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on top of them. "So, I heard something about Ecklie splitting you guys up again?"

Warrick's eyes narrowed. This was one claim that might actually have some sort of validity to it, especially if the director had gotten wind of the locker room mishap.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"No one, actually. It's just funny to see you guys freak out." He shook his head, laughing. "It's so easy."

Warrick bit back a colorful retort, and instead focused on the case. Sara was right. "Do you have anything for me?"

He listened to Hodges ramble on for a bit, and he really did listen. The guy could be a prick, but he was a prick who knew what he was doing.

Nick thought a night away from the lab, and a good day's sleep, would calm his nerves, and give those in the lab time to just get past it. While he was less angry, he was still tense as he ever was. The same went for the atmosphere in the crime lab. The next night, there was no less tension in the halls. There were no less whispers.

Nick swallowed and smiled at everyone he passed, the yellowing bruise on his cheek drawing many unwanted stares. He walked into the conference room, finding it empty. He'd hoped for this, and left early to make sure he would be the first one to arrive. At least this way, he wouldn't risk walking in on the others to hear them talking about him. He figured that cutting out these possibilities would help his mood, help him stifle his gut reaction to be angry with them.

He chose a seat, and waited.

To be continued...