Chapter Eighteen

Catherine blew a few bangs out of her eyes and sighed, closing her case folder. The past few days just seemed to have been case after case after case. She was tired and her heels were killing her. She was on her way out of the police station after helping Detective Vartann secure yet another confession to yet another crime, when she came upon Nick in the hall, and her heart sank.

He was sitting in one of the stiff plastic chairs that lined the walls, seemingly oblivious to any motion or noise around him, and being in the police station, there was plenty of both. His shoulders were slumped, his hands dangling between his knees, and he was looking at the floor with vacant eyes, almost unseeing.

Catherine hurried to his side and sat in the empty chair next to him. "Hey, you okay?"

It took him a second to react, and he nearly jumped when he realized that she was there. He smiled. "Yeah. Fine."

"Okay." Catherine wasn't going to push. She started to stand.

Nick grabbed her arm. "Wait." He chuckled softly and looked away, down the hall. "No. I'm not."

Catherine sank back into the chair. She was concerned, but tried not to be obvious about it. They had been doing a really good job of avoiding the subject the past two days. Nick would catch one of them glancing his way and he would give them a reassuring smile or nod, and that was about it. Everyone was afraid of the consequences if they pushed him. Catherine couldn't stop replaying what had happened in the break room.

Things had settled down considerably. Nick had swung right into the new case with Warrick and Sara, and while everyone knew that Nick wasn't doing perfectly, he seemed to be coping much better. Until now.

Nick gave a small motion that was kind of a shrug. "I just keep thinking about that kid."

Catherine frowned. "The one from your case?"

She had definitely been filled in on the details from that one. A presumably kidnapped five-year-old that turned out to be a runaway. It was unbelievable, although it was more so when you considered the circumstances, which were also unbelievable.

The parents had actually locked the child in the house, for God only knows how long. Not only God, actually. The woman next door had an idea that something was different about her neighbors to the left, and the child hadn't really run very far, just across the yard, to her house. She'd come to the police that morning, and while she hadn't really provided a reason for keeping Kyle nearly two days without saying anything, at least one that satisfied the minds of the CSIs, they were happy that it turned out the way it did. The parents, who had been faking their distress over their missing son, were going to be facing numerous charges. Catherine was glad, because these people were obviously deranged. She couldn't imagine ever treating Lindsay like that.

Nick nodded. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Nick shrugged. "I don't know. I just can't get over that fact he ran away."

Catherine laid her hand on his arm. She herself was awestruck to think that a five-year-old had the capacity and will-power to run away from his home. But when she thought about the situation that he was in, shut in by the two people you're supposed to be able to trust more than anyone, she guessed that she could understand a little better. Things like that made you grow up fast.

"He just felt like he had to get away," she said. Whether to comfort or calm him, she didn't know.

Nick gave a small smile. "I guess I can relate."

Catherine was alarmed. "You feel like you need to get away?"

Nick's head snapped up and he immediately shook it. "No, no. I don't know…no." He didn't sound so sure.

Catherine's mind raced, and she desperately wished for it to be someone else sitting here and hearing this, someone who would know what to say. She thought about Nick's words, and it brought out her overprotective mother side, wanting to know what or who would make her Nicky feel this way.

Oh, right…it was them.

"Nick," she started tentatively. "Do you feel like you need to get away from us?"

Again, Nick's head whipped up, his eyes wide.

Because he's surprised I would even suggest it, or because he's been caught? Catherine wondered.

He smiled, and Catherine was sure that it was meant again to reassure her, but instead it broke her heart how tight it was. "No," he said, so quiet she barely heard it.

Catherine stared at the wall across from her. It was constantly blocked by a passing officer or other stray person wandering the halls, and Catherine found herself wishing she was among them. "Do you feel like we're shutting you in?" she asked. It was the only thing she could think that he would relate to.

Nick didn't answer, and her heart broke a little bit more.

"I've tried so hard – "

"We've tried so hard," she started to say at the same time Nick also spoke.

Catherine laughed lightly and turned to face him. He again looked down at the floor. "Maybe we're all just making this too hard on ourselves, you know?" she asked.

Nick raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement. "Yeah, I do." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the wall. "I just keep hitting these highs and lows, and I don't understand it."

Catherine glanced around them, not so sure that an overcrowded hall in the police station was the best place for this talk, but at least he was talking. Fortunately, none of the numerous passers-by appeared to be taking any interest in their conversation. "What do you mean?"

Nick gave a small shrug, and remained staring straight ahead. "Some days, I honestly feel like my old self again, like the last couple of days. And then there're others that I just…just…"

Catherine waited for him to finish. Her heart thudded, and she was utterly terrified about what he might say.

He looked over at her, and there were a few tears in his eyes. "I just don't know if it's worth it." A few seconds of eye-to-eye contact was all it seemed that he could take, and he averted his eyes once again.

Catherine had to clear her throat before she could speak. "I know the past few months have to have been hard," she found herself speaking in a rush, "and we're really not trying to contribute to that."

"I know. You're trying to help me." It was the first he'd said that without sounding sarcastic or angry. His voice showed real gratitude for their attempts, however pathetic or ill-fated they may have been.

Despite this, Catherine expected an oncoming 'but.' She waited for some kind of accusation.

"You are."

That took her by surprise. Catherine shook her head. "No, Nicky, I don't think we are."

"No, really." He made another attempt at looking at her, and it held a bit longer this time. His eyes were wide and clear. "Do you think I'd really dealt with anything before you guys started pushing me?"

While Catherine winced at his word choice, she again noted the gratitude his tone was weighted with. He offered her a small smile, much less sad than the last, and it relieved a lot of the tension that she was feeling.

She returned the smile. "Well, we pushed with the best of intentions." She patted his leg. A question popped in her mind, but she was hesitant to ask.

"You know," he swallowed. "I've been thinkin' about seeing that therapist Gris talked about."

It was as though he could read her mind, and Catherine was taken aback by both the fact the he would think about it, and that he would volunteer the information. "T-that's great," she stuttered.

He smiled and nodded. "I sure hope so." He ran his sleeve across his eyes and gave her that crooked, sheepish grin. "You wanna get outta here?"

"Yeah."

"You wanna get something to eat?"

Catherine cocked an eyebrow. "You paying?"

Nick laughed. "Don't push it."

Oh, Nicky, she thought as they stood to leave, I promise.

To be continued...