Chapter Six
Nick sighed as he made his way through his front door, his mind still lingering over the conversation he had just had with Catherine. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should say something to Grissom. But say what? He could only imagine how that conversation would go.
'Hey Grissom! Stop being so mean to me! You're hurting my feelings!'
He shook the words from his mind. They sounded so juvenile. He didn't want to come across as some emotional guy who was in a fragile state. Grissom wouldn't respond well to that. No, he'd have to be straightforward with him. Honest and open. But would Grissom even allow him to speak his mind? He had tried early on to talk to him but had been rebuffed. Who's to say that wouldn't happen again? He wasn't sure if he could take it if it did.
No, perhaps it was better to leave things as they were. The situation was bound to resolve itself. It had to. Grissom couldn't stay mad forever, could he? Once again, he was filled with the sting of uncertainty - torn between action and inaction. Things were never simple when it came with his relationship with Grissom. His interactions with his other coworkers just came so natural and easy. Nothing stressful about it. With Grissom, things were, well, complicated. It had always had been so.
Nick sighed and massaged his forehead. He could feel the beginnings of a headache getting ready to hit him. That was just what he needed right now. Physical pain to keep his misery company.
He walked over to the counter where he stored his Tylenol. Grabbing the bottle, he popped the cap and tapped two pills into his hand. He filled a glass of water and quickly downed them. Standing at his sink, he peered outside. He noticed, that despite the late hour, the Redmans appeared to still be up. There was a light on in their house. He looked down again as he refilled his glass of water.
Suddenly, a scream tore through the night and Nick looked up to see the light in the Redmans' house go out. His ears were then greeted with the sound of breaking glass followed by a gun shot. Nick let the glass fall into the sink with a clatter and ran towards his door, pausing long enough to grab his spare gun.
He raced next door and was about to pound on it when he noticed that it was ajar. He pushed it open and held his gun aloft. He wasn't sure if he should announce his presence or not. He decided to remain quiet and allow himself the opportunity to surprise the person who had attacked the Redmans. Moving stealth-like, he kept his eyes open for any sign of movement. The house was pitch black but he wasn't about to risk turning on a light.
Before he could react, strong arms jerked him backwards and slammed him against the wall. The sudden attack made him lose his grip on his gun and it went flying through the air, landing a few feet away. He tried to reach behind him in an attempt to ward off his attacker, but was unable to get a good grasp on him. His attacker reared back to slam him against the wall again, but this time Nick had his arms in front of him and when he hit the wall again, he pushed off the wall with all his might, making his attacker stumble backwards and fall to the floor.
Nick landed on top of his attacker with a thud and scrambled to get to his feet. He made a dash for his gun and managed to get a few steps away when a hand grabbed a hold of his foot, gave a sharp yank, and brought him down again. Nick kicked back with his free foot and was rewarded with a cry of pain from man attacking him.
Once again, Nick made an effort get to his feet but his attacker lunged for him and used his weight to keep Nick laying flat on his stomach on the ground. Nick still attempted to reach for his gun, an action which was made more difficult by the fact that one of his arms had been pinned to his side by his attacker's knee, but his fingertips were only able to brush the barrel.
The attacker grabbed a hand of Nick's hair and slammed his head into the floor as hard as he could. Stars swam before him, but Nick did not stop moving. He tried to twist around so he could face the man, but the man wasn't about to let him achieve his goal. The attacker repeated the action of slamming the CSI's head into the floor until Nick's body finally stopped moving, a loss of consciousness overtaking him. Then the man stood up, walked over to Nick's gun, and picked it up.
Stepping over the body of the unconscious CSI, the man moved to the back of the house where his partner was waiting, guarding the still forms of Brad and Patricia Redman.
"Well?" Martin asked anxiously.
Will gave a dismissive wave. "The situation's taken care of. Call Levi and tell him we're on our way."
Nick woke dazed and with a splitting headache. What had happened? Why was he lying on the floor? And where was he anyway? This wasn't his floor. He had carpeting and this was wood. He winced in pain as he rolled over on his back, trying to remember where he was and why he was there.
Suddenly, it all came rushing back to him. The scream. He had run over here because the Redmans were in trouble. They might still be in trouble, laying wounded in their home.
This thought forced Nick to his feet. He searched in vain for his gun before moving through the house. The house was no longer dark as the sun was up. He had no idea how long he had been laying there on the floor, but judging from the light outside, it had been a few hours. He saw no signs of movement. He saw no blood and he saw no bodies. The Redmans were gone. He was going to have to call it in.
After making the call, he went outside and sat on the front porch steps. His head was still pounding, but he thought it best to stay put until the police arrived. As Nick sat on the stoop, he began to consider the consequences of his actions. He suddenly wondered how he was going to explain himself. There was no other choice but to tell the truth. He heard screaming so he rushed inside his neighbors' house with his gun drawn and instead of saving the day, he ended up getting attacked and was left laying on the floor of his neighbors' house for hours. That was the unpleasant truth and it was all he had.
He exhaled laboriously and tapped his fingers on his knees, feeling his nerves start to get riled up. Grissom was not going to be happy with him. Neither would Brass. No doubt he was going to get a lecture about his actions from both of them. But seriously? What he was supposed to do? Let his neighbors fall victim to a crime without lifting a hand to help them? Never! That just wasn't who he was.
As it turned out, Nick didn't have long to wait. Brass arrived on the scene within a few minutes. Normally, he wouldn't have been the one to respond to a call such as this one, but since Nick was involved, he'd made an exception. The detective wanted to make sure the CSI was okay.
"Hey Nicky." Jim greeted wearily as the younger man stood up to meet him. "How you doing?"
Nick shuffled a bit and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking like a kid about to get reprimanded. "My head hurts, but other than that, I'm fine."
"Well, you'll need to get checked out to make sure you don't have a concussion or something." Brass told him and Nick nodded in understanding.
"Okay, Nick, start at the top." Brass said, pulling out his notebook. He kept his focus on the paper in his hand as a way of keeping his emotions in check.
Nick gave his account of the following night and Brass paid him the courtesy of only interrupting a few times to ask clarifying questions.
"So, this man attacked you and beat you until you lost consciousness." Brass repeated. "And what happened to your gun?"
Nick hesitated and dropped his eyes. "He took it. At least, I think he did. It was gone when I woke up."
Brass sighed heavily. When he spoke, his tone was harsher than he had intended it to be. "Do you know how lucky you are that this guy didn't kill you? Why didn't you call 911 before rushing over here?"
"It didn't even cross my mind. I just wanted to help them." Nick admitted truthfully.
Brass eyed the young man carefully, managing to range in the emotions that were battling inside of him. "Listen, Nick, I know you're a brave guy. You want to help people, take care of them. It makes you passionate about your job and it's a quality that I really admire in you, but if you're not careful, it's going to get you into trouble. You got lucky again this time, but sooner or later, that luck's going to run out."
The sound of a car door slamming interrupted Brass' speech. Both men turned to see a fuming Gil Grissom stalking towards them. Nick braced himself for the onslaught of anger that Grissom seemed about to heap on him, but instead, he got the cold shoulder. Grissom would not meet Nick's eyes and focused his attention solely on Brass.
"Well?" Grissom demanded of the detective.
Brass shot Nick a look before relating the younger man's story to Grissom. Very rarely had Brass seen Grissom this angry and though he was still a touch angry at Nick himself, those feelings were rapidly being replaced with sympathy. Nick was in for a rough haul with his supervisor.
When Brass had finished, Grissom jerked his head in Nick's direction. "Make sure he gets checked out, Brass."
Gil Grissom stalked away, his case swinging madly at his side. Nick's eyes followed him sadly. He hadn't said anything to him. Nothing. Didn't even shout at him. It was like he no longer even merited notice. Nick let his shoulders slump in unconscious defeat. Things had just gone from bad to worse and he had no idea how to make it better.
"C'mon, Nicky. You heard the man. Let's make sure your head's okay." Brass placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and lead Nick away.
Brass accompanied Nick to the hospital and sat with him for a few hours while he waited for the doctor to see him. Finally, Nick was admitted and after a few tests were performed, it was revealed that Nick had not suffered a concussion. Just a nasty bump on the head and a bruised ego.
Despite Brass' best efforts at swaying him, Nick went to the lab. Beside the fact that he was in the middle of a hot case, Nick wanted to know if Grissom had found anything at the Redmans' house. He was concerned about his neighbors. Who had attacked them? Where were they? Was Donna with them? Perhaps Grissom would be able to shed some light on the situation. Of course that was assuming Grissom would even speak to him.
Nick walked down the hall, his eyes searching for his boss as he passed by the various rooms. He found Grissom just as he was leaving Mandy, a paper clutched tightly in his hand.
When Grissom saw Nick, his annoyance was obvious. "What are you doing here, Nick? You should be at the hospital."
"I was. The doctor cleared me. I'm fine." Nick punctuated his statement with what he hoped was a convincing smile.
"You still shouldn't be here." Grissom swept pass Nick in an effort to end the conversation but Nick was not about to let him.
"I want to know what's going with the Redman case. You find anything?" Nick asked as he matched Grissom's long strides.
Without warning, Grissom halted in his tracks and whirled on Nick.
"Did I find anything?" he repeated in a low tone. He held the paper in his hand up. "Oh I found something. I found some very interesting fingerprints."
There was something in Grissom's tone that sent warning bells off in Nick's mind. This wasn't going to be good.
"Whose prints did you find?" Nick asked apprehensively. He could feel his heart start to pound with expectation.
Grissom remained silent, purposefully delaying his answer. He eyed Nick with such an intense look of anger mingled with a hint of disgust that the younger man had to fight the urge to recoil from it.
"Do you know who was in that house with you, Nick?" Grissom asked, knowing full well that he would not have an answer. "Martin Alcott. The disappearance of the Redmans is now linked to our current case. Your neighbor, Donna, is involved in our investigation, which means that you now have a personal connection to it. Therefore, I'm pulling you off the case."
"What? You can't do that! This case is huge and you need all the help you can get!" Nick protested, advancing on Grissom slightly.
"You're right. I do need help, but what you are providing is no help to me. You are rushing head first into danger without even thinking clearly. That kind of rash behavior can screw up a case and I don't have time to clean up another one of your messes." Grissom snapped. He spun on his heel and stalked away.
Nick watched Grissom's back as he retreated. He hung his head, his cheeks burning with shame at Grissom's words. Another one of his messes? The implication behind those words struck him to the core. For the past month, he had been trying to convince himself that things would get better between him and Grissom if he just buckled down and did his job to the best of his ability. Now he realized what a fool he had been. Things were not going to get better. It didn't matter what he did or what he said. The damage caused by his indiscretion with Kristy was irreparable. He could see that now.
But had he not tried repeatedly to make it up to Grissom? Hadn't he been repentant? Hadn't he done his best to put what had happened to Kristy behind him and move forward? Hadn't he put up with Grissom's crap with the best attitude he could muster? Yet Grissom continually rebuffed him. Grissom was the one who was still angry. Grissom was the one who could not move past what had happened. This strain between them was not Nick's fault. It was Grissom's since he was the one holding the grudge. If Grissom could not move past it, that was his problem.
Yes, it was Grissom's fault. So why was he continually beating himself up?
'What more does he want from me?' Nick asked himself furiously. 'Does he want me to crawl on my knees, following him around the lab and begging for his forgiveness? If that's what he wants, he won't get it! I'm tired of his crap. I'm tried of being humiliated on a daily basis and being treated like a child!'
There was no doubt about it. Everyone had a limit and Nick Stokes had been pushed well past his. No longer would he be taking any heat from Grissom. No longer would he be Grissom's whipping boy. He had tried to take his reprimanding like a good boy, but he was done with that now. It had done no good. In fact, it only seemed to make things worse. It was time to take a more aggressive approach and deal with this situation head on. He'd be a man about it.
It was time to confront to Grissom.