White Carnations
Chapter 1: Walking Backwards
It has been almost a week since the day Kelly Gordon showed up at the crime lab.
It has been almost a week of Nick being unable to stop thinking about her.
He finds himself thinking about her, her face, her voice, remembering the few short conversations they had shared. He tries not to, but she always manages to creep back into his thoughts. It must be because she had stirred up old memories, he reasons. That's why his mind keeps drifting back to her. It's understandable. She was, after all, a big part of what happened all those months ago. His subconscious was just picking up on that after seeing her. Yep, perfectly understandable.
"Nick?"
Nick's head snaps up at the sound of Warrick's voice.
"What?"
"You've been scowling at your locker for the last five minutes." The taller man says, amusement clear in his tone.
"Uh, right." Nick feels his face reddening. "I was thinking. Must have zoned out."
"Right." Warrick drawls. "Here I was thinking the locker did something to piss you off." He watches as Nick scuttles around, getting his belongings together, refusing to meet his friend's eyes. Warrick's brow furrows. "Everything okay?"
Nick makes himself turn to face his friend, forcing a smile onto his lips.
"Yeah, everything's great, man." Nick hopes his voice doesn't sound as fake he thinks it does. It must not since Warrick just smiles and nods. "Well, I'll see ya." Nick moves his hand in a way resembling that of a wave.
"Take care, Nicky."
He hears the words as the door closes behind him.
That's what Warrick says every time they part now. Not "bye" or "see ya later, man", but "take care". Nick's not sure why, but it bothers him.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
When Nick arrives home, sunlight is peaking through the cracks of the blinds. He immediately strips down and falls into bed. His eyes are squeezed shut. As tired as he is, he doesn't want to sleep. He's scared of sleep. Sleep brings horrors and monsters he'd rather forget. Sleep brings light. His nightmares are never engulfed in darkness, but wrapped in blinding brightness. It's not the darkness he fears, it's the light- the fluorescent lights and their green glow.
Nick eventually drifts off anyway, his body finally taking over.
A few hours later he wakes up, shaking and drenched in sweat, just like he has every night since he got home from the hospital. He can't remember what he dreamt about in the hospital. Everything was hazy in a drug-induced fog. He imagines he probably had nightmares then too, but they were never like this, never this bad.
This has been Nick's routine for the past few months; staying awake until he can't any longer, then waking up clammy and trembling a few hours later. Usually he lies still until he either falls back to sleep or it's time to get up, but today is different. While he lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling blankly, a face appears in his mind. The same face that has been plaguing him of late. Kelly. He just wants her out of his head. Unknowingly, he clenches his fists at his sides.
He wants her gone. He needs her gone.
Today, he decides, he's going to do something about it.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick sits in front of one of the lab's computers, staring at a blank screen, a screen which he has been sitting in front for the last ten minutes. He's not supposed to do this. It's against the rules. It's selfish. Nick knows all this, but…Kelly. He frowns. When had he started calling her Kelly? When had she stopped being Gordon's daughter, the prisoner, that girl, and become something so much more personal?
She's driving him crazy. He really doesn't need another reason to question his sanity.
Nick squares his shoulders and brings up the program he wants, typing furiously. He looks intently at the information in front of him- Kelly's information. He grabs the pen from beside him and scribbles down her address onto a scrap of paper.
He considers ripping up the paper into tiny, crumpled pieces. Instead he places it delicately inside his pocket.
With one last glance over the screen, he shuts down the program.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick looks at the run-down apartment building in front of him.
Work seemed to have dragged by, each minute more defined than the last. The minute he could leave, he rushed over here.
He blinks when he realizes he's now in front of a door. Odd, he doesn't remember walking up the stairs or down the hall.
He takes in his surroundings once more. The hall is dark, with no windows and dim lamps being the only lighting. The grey-ish paint on the wall is old, faded and peeling. Nick idly wonders what color it's supposed to be. His gaze moves back to the door in front of him.
He takes a breath and knocks against the door softly.
After a few moments, he hears the click of a lock, and the door swings open.
Kelly stands before him, looking so entirely unsurprised that Nick wants to turn around and leave just to spite her. Instead he steps inside as she moves to the side to let him in.
The door closing behind him sounds so much louder than it is.
The apartment is small and empty. There are few personal items scattered about. Nick finds this incredibly sad for some reason. A lamp sitting on the bedside table illuminates the room, as thick blinds banish the sunlight.
"I don't know why I'm here." Nick quietly admits after a few minutes of silence.
Kelly looks up at him through long lashes.
"Yeah, you do." Her whisper is loud in the quiet. Nick hears the accusation and the simple truth and the understanding in the words.
"Why did you come to the lab?" he asks, his voice stronger than before.
She doesn't speak for a moment.
"You said not to take it with you," came the hesitant response. "But you have."
It wasn't said cruelly, only the concise stating of a fact.
Nick doesn't answer. His voice seems to have left him.
"It's part of us. We can't walk away from it." Kelly studies him warily as she speaks.
He's not sure if he flinched when she spoke that last statement.
The silence once again engulfs the room.
Nick's not sure what he was looking for by coming here or if he has found it.
He doesn't say anymore and leaves quickly, all the while trying to convince himself that he's not running away.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick is fine when he goes back into work that night. Kelly isn't constantly intruding on his thoughts. The new case he is assigned to with Catherine gives him something to focus on. Everything is good.
"Here's our DB."
Yep, definitely a good day.
"Gunshot wound to the chest." Nick observes.
"Messy." Catherine mutters.
Nick kneels down next to the teenaged girl. She lies on the floor in her bedroom, looking so very heartbreakingly lifeless. Vacant eyes stare into nothingness, her head tilted to the side, with dark hair fanning out around her. She looks almost like a rag doll tossed aside.
"So, you want to take this room?" Catherine asks.
"Sure."
He picks up his kit and goes on to do his job.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick stares at the girl on the other side of the one-way mirror. She's crying hysterically, apologizing over and over to her dead friend, the one she killed.
Catherine leaves the interrogation room with a disgusted look on her face. They had taken the seventeen-year-old best friend of the victim in for questioning after eye witnesses stated that she was the last to be seen with the victim. The girl promptly confessed, breaking out into loud sobs. She explained that she did it because her friend had asked her to. Her friend was depressed, life only caused her suffering, but she was too scared to kill herself. When the victim asked her to pull the trigger she did, because the girl claims to have "loved her so much". She would have done anything for her friend, even kill her.
Nick feels ill. It's not because of what the girl in the interrogation room said, but because he understands exactly what she means. He almost envies the dead girl to have someone love her enough to do that.
How sick is that?
Nick rubs a hand tiredly over his face.
Catherine sighs as she comes to stand beside Nick, watching the girl.
"I'll never understand how someone's mind can get so twisted like that. To kill someone because you love them? I just can't get it."
Nick wants to scream at her. She doesn't understand, couldn't ever "get it". He knows it's not normal to be able to "get it" and it scares him that he does.
Nick thinks about Kelly for the first time in almost two weeks. He needs to see her again.
When Nick leaves an hour later, the address is still in his pocket, exactly where he had left it those two weeks ago.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
The last hour is a blur and Nick is almost surprised to find himself outside of Kelly's door, soaking wet and shivering from the rain.
He knocks on her door.
Click. Creak. Woosh.
Kelly opens the door. This time she smiles when she sees him; Nick imagines that smile must have been beautiful once. She's wearing a tank top and sweat pants. Kelly is a little too thin and a little too pale, but there's something incredibly alluring about her. She draws him in and he's not quite sure if he wants to fight it. Kelly steps aside and he thinks he hears her laugh.
Woosh. Creak. Click.
The door is closed, but this time it doesn't feel so restricting, so trapping.
Nick's not really sure he understands what happens next.
His soggy shirt is off, lying on the floor somewhere and cool air sweeps against him. All he can think is how cold it is, but then there are warm lips against him. Everything stops and moves at lightning speed all at once.
There are no words this time, only touch.
He leaves the apartment an hour later.
It's still raining, but this time the icy rain feels good against his flushed skin. He stands in the rain and closes his eyes, letting it wash over him.
When Nick goes to sleep a while later, the nightmares are not completely consuming.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick walks through the doors of the crime lab, a charming smile slipping easily into place. He greets his coworkers as he passes them in the halls.
Hiya, Nicky.
Hey, Stokes.
Good to see you, Nick.
Everyone who works in the lab knows who he is. Everyone. He's Nick Stokes, the Man Who Was Buried Alive. Everyone saw the news or worked on his case or hears the gossip. Now, everyone wants to tell him how brave he is, how strong he is, how fan-fucking-tastic he is. Well, that's what they want to say to his face, anyways.
They think he doesn't know, but he hears the whispers.
Did you hear, he was about to blow his brains out?
Gasp! Really?
Well, I heard that he went crazy and started shooting up the box he was buried in. That's how the ants got in.
I'll bet he has a meltdown any day now.
Poor boy.
It's not the nasty rumors that bother him, it's the pity. For everything else he can take, he can't stand pity.
He's not a victim.
He has faced challenges in his life, he admits it. But he's always overcome those challenges. This is just another challenge to overcome.
He's not a victim.
The experience- his kidnapping, waking up in a glass coffin underground, being eaten alive- it's hasn't changed him. He's still the same person. He hasn't changed.
He's nota victim.
He's not weak. He won't ever let himself be weak.
"Hey there, Nick."
Nick flashes his teeth and nods.
He's not a victim. He's Nick Stokes and he's fan-fucking-tastic.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
It's another two weeks before Nick can bring himself to knock on the familiar door in the old, dirty apartment building.
Kelly opens it a few seconds later, hair strewn in her face and blank expression adorning her face.
Nick absently wonders if she ever goes out.
A terrible smile slowly forms on her lips as she registers who stands in front of her.
"Mr. Stokes?"
Taunting.
Nick doesn't say anything, but waits until she steps aside so he can enter.
"Kelly." He hates himself for sounding as lost as he feels.
Her gaze softens and she takes pity on him, taking him by the hand and leading him to sit on the bed. She lowers herself to sit beside him, knees touching. She flips her hair absentmindedly, honey locks slipping behind her shoulders. For a moment Kelly looks like a little girl with messy hair, wearing a sweater two sizes too big, legs kicking back and forth lightly.
She catches his stare and her expression changes again. The wicked grin is back.
"I believe you came here to do more than sit and stare." Her tone is almost mocking.
He feels a spike of anger.
"Yeah, I did."
And he leans in and captures her lips in a brutal kiss.
"Thought so." She says against his lips. His eyes are closed, but he can hear the smirk.
He ignores her cutting words and cruel smiles, and pushes her backwards onto the bed.
It's an hour later and he's gone, the prison and its willing prisoner left far behind.
He's in his car now, speeding down the streets.
He thinks he can faintly make out a stop sign as he tears by it.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
When Nick reached his home he had realized he was in desperate need of food, and since his cupboards were virtually empty, he hopped back in his car and came here, to the grocery store. Nick is on the frozen foods isle when the sounds of sniffles and muffled cries reach his ears. A little girl, about five or six Nick estimates, is sitting in the middle of the isle, knees tucked up to her chin and face buried in her sleeves. Nick hurries over to her and kneels down.
"Hey, sweetheart, what's wrong? Where's your mommy?" He asks gently.
Two watery blue eyes peek out from the folded arms.
"I-I-I don't know." Fresh tears begin to pour down the chubby face with the stuttered admission.
"Hey, hey now. Shhh. How about I help you find her, okay?" Nick smiles encouragingly as she studies him skeptically.
"You're a stranger." She points out.
"Well, yes, I am. And, usually, you should never go with strangers, but I work for the police. So, just this once, you can trust me." Nick coaxes.
She eventually nods and stands up to take Nick's hand.
"Alright, let's go find your mommy. What's your name?"
"Annabel. But almost everyone calls me Anna. Except Daddy, he calls me Bell. Or Ducky, but Ducky isn't short for Annabel, it's just something Daddy calls me. What's your name?" She babbles happily.
"Nick Stokes."
Annabel looks up at him and is quiet for a moment.
"You're tall." She says, staring at him.
"Well, uh, I guess I am." Nick chuckles.
As they turn down another isle, Annabel lets out a squeal and takes off running towards a short brunette woman, who currently looks very distressed.
"Mommy!"
The woman spins around.
"Anna! Oh, Annabel, you scared me! You can't go wandering off like that!" The woman exclaims, hugging her daughter close to her. The little girl bursts into tears, her renewed feelings of upset pouring out of her. Annabel starts stuttering about the experience and the nice, tall man who helped her. She sounds terrified at the memory of being separated from her mommy, and Nick has no doubt she is. The world is a scary place for lost little girls.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
It has been a hard day, a hard case. The case involved a murdered teenaged boy and a step-father who was obviously guilty, if only they could find some hard evidence. They finally found the step-father's bloodied sweater with the murder weapon wrapped in it. That was definitely enough to make a case. Now all the CSIs want to do is relax.
Warrick pulls a new t-shirt over his head.
"Hey, Nick, you coming out with Cath, Greg, and I for a beer?" Warrick asks, looking over to the shorter man.
Nick pauses.
"Uh, no thanks, man. I just wanna get home and go to bed." Nick answers.
"Alright, I'll see you later, man. Take care." Warrick says as the door closes behind him.
Nick looks at the closed door. He doesn't know why he told Warrick what he did. He isn't that tired, and he doesn't want to be alone, not tonight.
Nick stands up, stuffing his hands in his jacket pocket. His fingers brush against crumpled paper. He freezes, then pulls it out. The numbers and street name are faded, and the little scrap is wrinkled and torn almost beyond recognition. It doesn't really matter though, since he already has the address memorized.
He realizes why he didn't go with Warrick.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick stares at the door that has become oh-so-familiar. Metal numbers covered in flaking golden paint stand out on the wooden surface. He considers turning around and leaving right now, before this thing they have pulls him in any deeper.
The decision is made for him. As if by a twist of fate or twisted luck, the door swings open to reveal a frustrated-looking Kelly. Nick stares at her, dumbfounded, for a moment. Kelly stares back at him, but hers is an expression of mild surprise and curiosity.
"Well, I was going to go see my landlord to get him to fix the sink, but now that you're here I'll just use you." She says with a deceivingly sweet almost-smile.
Nick follows her into the apartment, but instead of going straight to the bed, he goes to the kitchen sink. Kelly raises an eyebrow in question when he looks at her. He gestures to the tools cluttered on the tiled floor. She nods in response. Nick gets down on his knees, looking at the pipes under the sink, while Kelly towers over him, standing a few feet away. Nick finds the problem quickly and fixes it within minutes.
"Good as new." Nick says, straightening himself.
Kelly is looking at him with a strange expression, one Nick can't quite place. He starts to grow uncomfortable with the silence that follows. When he begins to shift, Kelly moves forward to stand just a little too close.
"Wanna fuck?" The words are carefully pronounced and drawn out. Nick cringes at the crudeness, the coldness. He is willing to bet that she said what she said on purpose, probably just to see him squirm. He wants to say no and run far, far away. But her breath is caressing his cheek and he can feel the warmth radiating from her body and he's so damn cold. So instead of answering or running away, he grabs her face between her hands and pulls her forward in an unforgiving kiss.
A while later, as he gathers up his clothes and dresses, Kelly calls out after him.
"Call me."
She doesn't give him her number, knowing fully well that he can get it if he wants to.
When he gets home that night, he doesn't call. He doesn't call the next day either, or the next. He doesn't call at all because now that he's starting to get to know Kelly, he's pretty sure she was just joking.
To Be Continued
