Note: I promised y'all an update...so here it is. Sorry... it'sa little later than I anticipated (i had grand schemes of writing last night, but i hit the sack around 9:00...was way too tired to get into any deep introspections) and it's a bit shorter than previous chapters...but I have plans for the next couple chapters.
thanks for the reviews...much appreciated
as usual let me know your thoughts.

He wasn't exactly sure how he'd gotten home, he just knew it involved his key in the ignition, his foot on the gas, and not letting up until he'd gotten where he wanted to go. As much as he wanted to move now, though, he couldn't. He just sat in his truck, the front door of his house beckoning him.

He could tell it was getting relatively late in the morning, the shadows had moved a good ten degrees before he'd managed to even unfasten his seatbelt. No use rushing, he knew work was out of the question tonight. Word of his blow-up was bound to have reached Grissom by now. No doubt he'd be pulled off the case, and for once in his career, he really didn't care.

Nick pulled the key out of the ignition, opened the driver's side door and slowly made his way into his house.

There were five messages on his machine. He sure as hell didn't feel like talking to anyone. He wasn't even sure why he pushed the button to hear who'd called.

Hey man, it's Warrick. Give me a call when you get this.

Hey bro, give me a call.

He stopped the playback after the third message repeated what the first two had already said. Apparently Warrick hadn't gotten the hint that he didn't want to talk outside the lab.

Nick threw his keys on the table along with his wallet and trudged to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door and pulled out the new six pack of Heineken sitting on the top shelf. He had been saving it for when Warrick and Greg came over for the Pistons game in a couple days. Returning to his living room, he set the beer on the table in front of the sofa as he sprawled himself out on the long piece of furniture. He'd buy more if he had to.

For now, he was tired, and his hand hurt.

Screwing the lid off the first bottle, he downed it disregarding the burn in his throat as the ale made its way to his stomach. He leaned his head on the back of the sofa and shut his eyes. The headache that had plagued him the last two days was coming back.

He downed a second beer in hopes of staving off the threat before getting up to change clothes. Pulling on his favorite, and well worn, A&M tee shirt and sweats he padded back into the living room. The third beer was calling his name. A knock on the door, however, thwarted his efforts of returning to the couch.

Stalking over to the door he swung it open. He wasn't too keen on the idea of a visitor. In fact he wanted nothing more than to finish off the six pack on his table and then sleep off its after effects.

The appearance of the man on his front step shouldn't have come as a surprise. Nevertheless, it was a rare occasion for Gil Grissom to show up unannounced. Leaving the door open, Nick turned and returned to his couch. Grissom could come in if he wanted; politeness had gone by the wayside a long time ago.

The supervisor entered the home slowly, quietly closing the door behind him. He really wasn't sure why he'd just shown up like this. Well, yeah he did. Catherine. The minute word spread that Nick had hit a suspect, Catherine came bursting into his office.

"Nick hit a suspect?" she asked, shock bordering on anger resonating in her voice.

"That's what I hear," Grissom nodded with a sigh. He'd yet to look up from the papers currently calling all of his attention.

"What are you going to do about it?" she asked running a hand through her long strawberry blonde hair. She was pacing in front of his desk now, forcing him to refocus his attention.

"What do you mean?" he asked with a shrug as he peered over his reading glasses.

"What do I mean? Come on Gil; are you still blind to it? Nick needs help," she said taking a seat in front of him. "You have to find him and talk to him. Something needs to be done. Ecklie is threatening to fire him."

"Conrad can threaten all he wants. He's been doing it for years," Grissom shook his head as he removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair.

"And look where that got us last time. Gil…"

"I'll talk with him, okay?" he asked hoping to get the woman off his case.

"Today," she stood, ready to leave.

"Today," he nodded.

"I'm going home," she turned toward the door. "I promised Lindsey breakfast. Oh, that case you put me on?"

"The DB at the Bellagio," he nodded, "I remember."

"Yeah, well I could use some more hands. Our suspicious circs turned into a triple homicide."

"I'll put Warrick and Sara on it," he said as she left his office.

He really wasn't looking forward to the face off that was bound to happen between him and Nick. He knew he wasn't good with people; it'd always been his excuse for pushing those jobs onto Catherine or simply neglecting them altogether. It was how he lost Nick and Warrick last year. It was what caused him to hesitate now in starting up a conversation with the man in front of him.

Nick looked different to him. His hair was longer, sure, but that wasn't the only thing different about him. He looked older. He looked weighed down. He looked worn out. When had things changed? Why hadn't he noticed?

"How's the hand?" he asked noticing the ice pack next to his colleague.

"I'll live," Nick shrugged not yet making eye contact with the man.

Grissom casually made his way to the chair next to the sofa. How does a grown man begin a conversation that may ultimately lead to the demise of another's brick wall of pent up emotions? Was he ready to hear what haunted the man in front of him? Was he emotionally prepared for the inevitable breakdown?

Was he ready to share what haunted him? Was he prepared to become vulnerable?

"Nick…"

"Look, if you came here to lecture me, save it," he said shaking his head cutting his boss short.

"I'm not here to lecture you."

"Then why are you here?"

"Honestly? I don't know," the man shrugged. "I guess I'm concerned. Nicky, you crossed a line today. What's gotten into you?"

Was he waiting for a response? If he was he wasn't getting one.

"Are you still seeing your counselor?"

Where did this question come from?

"What does that have to do with anything?" Nick asked looking up for the first time since Grissom had taken a seat. There was a hint of anger in his eyes. It was clouded by a thick layer of defensiveness.

"It's a simple question, Nick. Are you?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He did what he did best. He retreated inward.

"Don't do this Nick," Grissom said recognizing the retreat immediately. "We need to talk about this."

"We don't need to talk about anything," Nick responded, his anger becoming more prevalent. "You need to talk about this."

"What has gotten into you Nicky? What's changed?"

Again, no response. It would be a one-sided discussion.

"I can't pretend to know what's going on. You're going to have to talk to me. You've got some time off coming to you, and you better take it," he said standing. "You're lucky Tedesco's lawyer wasn't around. Brass was able to calm the guy down enough. He's not pressing charges. You're lucky.

"Look, when you're ready to talk you know where to find me. You're off the case until then," he said turning toward the door.

The metal doorknob was cold in his grasp. The wooden door was heavy as he slowly opened it letting the late morning sun stream into the semi-dark room. Just as he was about to step out Grissom was stopped by the sound of a broken man's voice.

"Grissom that man sexually molested his own daughter. He'd lost all hope in life after his wife died. I don't regret hitting him for a second."

Grissom slowly turned around. He didn't say a word fearing any sound he made would cause his CSI to clam up again.

"I can't get the girl's face out of my head," he shook his head, his voice cracking.

Grissom returned to the chair from which he had just stood. Nick's eyes bore into his now as he remained seated on the couch. There was anger, desperation in his voice.

"Damn it, she looked so scared," he said trying desperately to keep his voice from trembling. "I can't get rid of it."

"Get rid of what?"

"The feeling that there was more I could have done. I could have stopped it."

"Nicky…" The man was at a loss as of what to say. This was the last thing he'd expected. A yelling match, sure. He expected to be met with hostility, anger. He was even prepared to handle it.

The desperation, the pure, raw emotions he was being met with, however, were enough to knock him off his feet. He was at a complete loss as to what to do. It was a feeling he hated more than anything, and it wasn't the first time he'd felt this way about Nick.

"Grissom, I don't know if I can do this anymore," he said taking a deep shuddering breath. "I just…don't know…"

Another note: I know it's not the best ending I've had to a chapter...but like I said at the start...I have some things planned...I just wanted to capture Nick (and Grissom) and a sort of a crossroads...
so now...tell me your thoughts!