Note: re-uploaded chapter nine...the site was a littel schitzo last night...and i made a few subtle changes to dialogue...fixed a few typose that were driving me nuts. Thanks again to all you guys for reading and reviewing...very thought provoking stuff...much appreciated. keep the reviews coming!

He knew he'd said too much. What the hell was he thinking telling Grissom all of this? It had been hard enough telling Catherine the crap about his childhood? But, damn, crying like that in front of him? He'd think he'd lost it for sure.

He was already feeling awkward having the man in his house. The added rampage and rush of emotions was unexpected and embarrassing in its own right.

Maybe he was losing it.

Damn, why was it so hard to talk to the man beside him?

He didn't know where to go from there, wasn't sure what to say. Hell, he wasn't sure saying anything would even help.

Grissom was at an equally discouraging loss of words. The concern for his CSI was overwhelming. How long had he been holding on to all this emotional baggage, all this trauma? Was he so stubborn he couldn't talk to someone? And why hadn't he seen it before now? Was he so self-absorbed, so lost in his own thoughts that he'd missed what was right in front of him? Were the assumptions others made about him right?

"Nick, you can't let him win. You can't let him haunt you."

"But, he does," Nick shook his head, his voice raspy. "He's in my head and I can't get him out."

Minutes ticked away as they remained on the couch. It was near noon before Nick spoke again.

"Did you know Kelly Gordon's out?" Nick asked his eyes focused on the coffee table in front of him. He wasn't sure why he was asking him. Wasn't sure why he was even starting onto this.

"I didn't know you did," Gil grimaced as he heard the name of Walter's daughter. "The parole hearing board called me the day they released her."

He remembered hearing about the hostility of Kelly Gordon when Brass and Sara had interviewed her at the prison. I hope your friend dies, she'd said with hatred in her eyes. He remembered the day they got Nick back. He hadn't hesitated in calling the people he needed to in order to keep tabs on the daughter of Walter Gordon. But, the fact that Nick knew and hadn't said anything… This was not going in a good direction. This was not the way he wanted Nick to find out about this.

"I saw her a few weeks ago," Nick nodded, "first at a crime scene, then back at the lab."

"What?" His voice was quiet. He didn't want to be angry. Why hadn't Nick told somebody? "Why didn't you say something?" he asked.

"I didn't want to. It's really not that big of a deal," he shrugged. "She came to see me."

Apparently they both had their secrets.

"I never told you I went to see her in prison either," he said hanging his head.

Why not just tell him everything? He seemed to be on a pretty good roll so far.

"When she came to the lab…" he started again slowly, "she said something… I asked her if she was okay. She said she'd been thinking about what I had said to her."

"What did you say to her?" Gil asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as usual.

"I told her not to take it with her," he said with a small laugh. The advice seemed weak to him.

"Sounds like pretty good advice," Grissom said, a smile flirting with the corner of his mouth as he watched Nick wrestle with his own words. Nick never surprised him with his concern for others; it's what made him the CSI that he was. "What'd she say…at the lab."

"She said she was perfect…" he said looking back up at his supervisor.

"And that put you on edge?"

"It wasn't her words…" he trailed off trying to wrap his brain around what he wanted to say. "It was the look in her eyes… I hate knowing she's out there," he said anger and frustration back in his voice.

"Nick, she's not the one…"

"I know," he cut off his boss's words. "She may not have done anything to me physically, but…"

"But, what?"

"Psychologically…" he trailed off again, unable to finish his thought. He sulked back into the couch. "…it's wreaking havoc."

Grissom was torn as he watched Nick unravel. He hated feeling helpless when the man in front of him needed…wanted so much for some kind of human emotional contact. He hated that he had to be the person to give it to him. He was not the best person for the job; he just wasn't the personable type. Of the entire team, he was the least likely to relate to Nick. He and Nick were opposites in almost every aspect of the job and their personal lives rarely crossed. Maybe that's why Catherine had pushed him so hard. So, at the risk of getting completely out of character, and maybe even sharing part of his own private life, he stood from the couch. He was tired of the awkward tension his silence seemed to create.

"Alright, look…"Grissom started, his thoughts still taking form in his mind. "Get changed."

"What?" Nick asked.

"I'm serious. Get changed. You need to get out of this house."

"Griss…"

"Just trust me," he said as Nick slowly rose and moved toward his bedroom.

He watched as Nick shuffled down the hall. He really hoped he knew what he was doing.

After changing into a pair of jeans and a black tee shirt, Nick walked into his bathroom. Flipping on the light, he glanced into the mirror over his sink. He looked like hell, which only added to how he felt.

What the hell was Grissom doing? And why was he blindly going along with it?

He splashed cold water on his face, knowing it was a futile attempt at making himself feel better. At best it only got rid of the tear stains that were so uncharacteristic on his face. He looked in his medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of eye drops on the second shelf. Putting a couple drops in each eye he brushed his teeth and deemed himself ready to face his boss again.

"Where are we going?" he asked pulling on his favorite black jacket as he followed Grissom out the door. He paused just long enough to grab his wallet and keys and lock the door behind him.

"Out," he said over his shoulder. "I'm driving."

It was early afternoon; the sun was high as Nick pulled out his sunglasses. It was a semi-mild January day, the temperature hovering around the forty-five degree mark. He was glad he'd put on a coat. He hopped into the passenger seat of Grissom's Denali and clicked his seat belt.

He hated surprises.

They rode in silence for nearly an hour. It wasn't an awkward silence. It was just…quiet.

"Hey Catherine," Grissom said into his phone, "It's Gil. Can you cover shift tonight?" he asked pausing for her response. What Nick would give to hear both sides of the conversation. "Yeah," Grissom nodded. "Alright…thanks," he finished clicking his phone closed.

"So you want to fill me in?" Nick asked hoping to get some idea of where they were headed.

"No," Grissom shook his head staring straight ahead. The glint in his eye didn't go unnoticed.

Coming to terms with the fact that he'd be kept in the dark, Nick resumed his role as the quiet passenger.

He must have dozed off. The next thing he knew Grissom was pulling off the road into a makeshift parking spot. There, staring back at the men stood the vastness of the Pacific Ocean.

"What…"he asked still coming out of his stupor.

"I used to come here when I was a kid," Grissom said sitting back in the driver's seat. He unhooked his seatbelt and climbed down from the SUV. Nick followed suit joining Grissom at the front of the vehicle.

"Where are we exactly?" he asked glancing at his watch. It was five o'clock.

"Marina Del Ray, I grew up here," Grissom said his hands in the pockets of his black slacks, "about six miles that way," he said using his head to point toward the left. He began walking now, toward the nearby cliffs. "I used to come here to think."

Nick followed him quietly taking in the scene, breathing in the fresh air. He joined his boss in taking a seat on the ground. They let their legs hang over the ledge.

"It was always quieter here," he said looking out over the water. "Nick, I can't pretend to know what you're going through right now. But, I can tell you that I know what it's like to be mad at the world. When I was a teenager, I remember hating my mom...for being deaf. I hated my dad for never being around. Most of all I hated the fact that it all affected me so much.

"I buried my feelings because that was the only way I knew to cope. I had no one to talk to. It was just natural for me to cope by diving into whatever else was around me. Back then it was books. Now, it's still books, but it's also my job," he said glancing over at his co-worker.

"Your feelings…your emotions are what make you the CSI that you are. You're good at what you do, Nicky. You relate to the victims and their families in a way that I never could. Don't lose that."

He couldn't believe he was being so open with his colleague. He'd never even privileged Catherine to this kind of emotional availability. He had tried once, but it was nowhere near this open.

The dynamics of his relationship with Nick were changing. It was about time, he assumed. For years he'd kept the man at bay, skeptical of his own reasons why. Nick always seemed too eager, too…something, he wasn't sure, but it always grated him in a weird way.

In the past months, however, the witnessing of the man's deterioration and his most recent melt down had opened his eyes. Grissom had always chided Nick for his eagerness to please him; he had even scolded him, held him back from his job. He thought it had been for the better, and maybe it had been.

It seemed the second he'd let the man spread his wings, he'd started losing him. First it was Nigel Crane. Now it was Walter Gordon.

It's not that Grissom didn't trust Nick's abilities as a CSI; it was quite the opposite, in fact. He admired the man's skill, that's why he'd hired him to his team. He had a drive that couldn't be matched.

The two sat silent for nearly an hour watching the sun set over the ocean.

The silence was therapeutic to Nick. The time away from the lab, the air…it all came together and aided him in clearing his head for the first time since the start of the Tedesco case. He could breathe easy for the first time in three days.

Night was taking hold, overtaking day. Cold was taking the place of the daytime warmth bringing a chill to both men. Grissom stood first, not wanting to rush anything. He felt he'd made progress; he'd given Nick the opportunity he needed to talk. In this case he'd aloud him time to be quiet.

Slowly they made their way back to the car.

"You hungry?" Grissom asked putting the key in the ignition and starting the vehicle.

Realizing for the first time he'd gone all day without eating he nodded in response.

"There's a place just down the road," he pointed maneuvering the car back onto the paved road.

It had been a long day. Nick was exhausted, both physically as well as emotionally. The talk with Grissom, though very puzzlingly, was helpful. He was taken aback at first by the man standing on his front porch that morning. The man was his boss, rarely anything more than that.

All that had changed within a matter of hours. Grissom sat in a new light; though still shaded in part, Nick could see the man a little more clearly.

It would take a while to process everything that had been said, by him as well as by Grissom, that day. Nick casually looked out the window at the passing scenery. The man he saw looking back at him in the side view mirror was a new man, someone he hadn't seen in a while.

He leaned his head back on the head rest slowly exhaling as he closed his eyes. The weight was slowly easing from his shoulder, the pressure easing in his chest.

Grissom could sense the change almost immediately. The man he sat next to now was someone he remembered, someone he realized now he'd missed. Slowly, Nick was coming back.