White Carnations

Chapter 2

His next two visits go much like the first few. They have fallen into a routine of Nick showing up at Kelly's door at various hours of the day (or sometimes night) and then Nick leaving a few hours later. If lacking anything else, their relationship holds no lies. Neither bothers with empty promises, even when words are exchanged.

Nick sits on the edge of Kelly's bed, his shirt in a tangled ball beside him. He looks back at the woman lying on the other side of mattress. Kelly's hair is flopping over her face, as per usual, and she has hints of dark smudges under her eyes. Kelly never wears make-up, not that Nick minds really. He stops staring when she pokes him in the back with her toe. Kelly doesn't like being stared at any more than he does.

"Sorry." He mumbles.

Nick straightens out his shirt and slips it over his head. Nick stands and goes to pick up his jacket, lingering near the doorway. He runs his fingers over a slip of paper in his jeans pocket, considering whether to give it to Kelly or not. Tonight had been different. He has tomorrow (well, today technically) off. For the first time, Nick has stayed for the entire night. He didn't want to leave and she didn't kick him out, so he had stayed. Now he's standing awkwardly in her doorway considering what that means and how much he wants it to. Making his decision, he pulls out the folded paper and puts it on her bedside table and leaves quickly.

Kelly stares at the closed door before reaching over and investigating the little slip. She smiles softly, a sad reflection of happiness. She smoothes her thumb over the crinkled surface, then carefully places Nick's address back on the table.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It's his day off and Nick is at home, scrubbing his floor until it's spotless. He's spent the last few hours vacuuming, washing, drying, sweeping, dusting, and his hands are aching terribly. Nick rises from soar knees and empties the bucket of soapy water in his laundry room sink. He wanders into the living room and carefully examines the state of it. Everything needs to be clean, needs to be perfect. Satisfied for the moment, he leaves to iron his shirt for tomorrow. The ironing is done with the same careful attention to detail as the rest of his cleaning. Every crease must be smoothed. He holds up the still-warm button-up shirt. Nick bites the inside of his cheek, deciding there's not much else he can do for it, before reluctantly putting it back on the hanger and hanging it on the door handle. Everything must be just right.

If everything is perfect on the outside, maybe it will cover the ugliness of inside.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Nick flips through the autopsy pictures of the murdered eight-year-old boy he's already scrutinized many times. The young boy was so tiny, swallowed up by the giant autopsy table. He's a work of perverse art- blues and purples and greens decorate the deathly pale skin with accents of red covering certain areas. He was found beaten to death in a dumpster, tossed aside like the garbage he was taught to believe he was. Nick clenches his jaw tightly, casting the pictures aside in disgust.

He was assigned the case along with Warrick and Sara. There were signs of long-term abuse, so they were suspecting someone the boy knew and spent time with. Their main suspect was the father, who didn't seem extremely upset over his child's death. Nick waits for Sara to return from the house of the victim.

"We found a match." Sara says, walking in. "One of the buckles of the father's belts matches marks left on the body. We even found some blood left on the buckle. Brass has the mother and father in for questioning. I'm going to go talk to the mother, you and Warrick have the father."

Nick nods in affirmation and sets off to the interrogation room.

When Nick walks into the room, the man is leaning back in the chair with a sour look on his face. Warrick is across from him, arms crossed over his chest casually while Brass is hunched in a corner. Nick forgoes the chair next to Warrick and goes to lean against the wall behind the suspect.

"We've found blood on one of your belt buckles that matches your son's." Warrick says.

"I don't know how that coulda got there." The man shrugs. Nick snorts in disbelief.

"Look, I've never hurt my son. I loved him." There's barely any feeling in the sentences. He didn't even bother putting any emotion into the lie. Nick feels a stab of renewed anger.

"Then why are there imprints of your belt buckle all over his body?" Nick moves forward and grips the man's shoulder tightly, bending down to whisper viciously in his ear. "We've got you. We have proof. All those years of beating your son, you're going to pay for them now. You're done."

The man looks worried now. His brows are furrowed in pain. He'll have bruises from where Nick is grabbing him, but that just makes Nick smirk and tighten his hold, ignoring Warrick's disapproving frown.

They are interrupted at that moment when Sara opens the door, gesturing for them to follow her into the hall.

Nick grudgingly allows his hand to drop away and follows his colleagues into the hall.

"The mother is willing to testify against her husband." She has a triumphant look on her face. Nick knows how much these cases bother her, so he's happy they could get the bad guy this time.

"That's great." Nick smiles and it's almost real.

Sara grins, nodding, and goes back to the interrogation room to tell Brass.

As soon as the door closes, Warrick places a gentle hand on Nick's shoulder and guides him further down the hall to where there are no people.

"Nick," The taller man hesitates, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Nick pulls a painfully bright smile.

"I was, uh, wondering if you had seen someone for…what happened." Nick is instantly defensive.

"You mean a shrink, right?" He asks coldly. Warrick's flinch is enough of an answer. "Besides the psychological evaluation, no. I don't need one. I'm dealing just fine."

Warrick's look of sympathy just makes Nick angrier.

"You've been rougher with suspects lately. When you're on a case you snap at the lab techs. You haven't been coming out with us anymore either." Warrick explains. Nick stares at his friend incredulously.

"You think I'm nuts because I'm not hanging out with you as much?"

"That's not what I meant." Warrick's temper is starting to rise as well. "You're distancing yourself. We've all noticed."

"You guys are talking about me behind my back?" Nick's fists are clenched tightly at his sides.

"We were just worried. We think you should see someone about it."

It's normal to feel homicidal towards co-workers, right?

"I'm fine." Nick says through gritted teeth.

"You're not. What you went through…it's hard, man. You can't come away from that unaffected." At the answering silence, Warrick sighs, "How can I get you to go?"

"Let's flip a coin." Nick grins hollowly. Warrick freezes, his eyes widening. Ignoring his paling friend, he continues, "You win, then I'll go. And you always win, right?" Warrick looks sick, but Nick doesn't care as he turns sharply and leaves as if his friend wasn't slowly crumbling in the hall behind him.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

He's angry- with himself, with Warrick, with Gordon. He's angry when he pulls up in front of the apartment and he's angry when he's knocking on her door and he's angry as she's letting him in. He's angry as he grabs her arm and he's angry he pulls her over to the bed.

He would feel bad if she wasn't being just as rough. And this, this right now, is why he needs her. He can hurt her because she'll hurt him right back.

When his strong hands grip the sides of her face and his fingers run through her hair, the strands tangle and pull. Her nails dig into the soft flesh on his shoulders leaving crescent-shaped marks. He claims her mouth in a bruising kiss. She pulls back and bites him along his collar bone.

They're together because they know the other can understand. No one else would be able to. Different demons, the same hell. He always seems to be numb. But with her…What he has with her is all feeling.

He leaves a few hours later with stinging scratches across his back and various other darkening marks.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Nick comes in early and waits in the locker room for Warrick to arrive. When the other man does finally appear, he ignores Nick completely. The guilt and sadness he sees on his friend's face make Nick feel even worse.

"Warrick, about yesterday, I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. I was upset. I don't like the idea of other people talking about me or that I'm being…observed. I'm not trying to use that as an excuse. I know you guys were just worried, but I am dealing well. I'm fine, really." Nick pauses, but gets no answer from the other man. "What happened before…flipping the coin, it's not your fault. You know I didn't mean what I said, right?"

Warrick turns around to meet Nick's eyes.

"Yeah, it's fine." Warrick says coolly. But Nick knows they won't be on speaking terms for a while yet.

Warrick leaves the locker room without another word, Nick watching him go.

Forgiven, but never forgotten.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Nick sits in the back of the courtroom next to Catherine, awaiting the verdict on the girl they had just testified against. Nick stares at the girl's slumped form. Her shoulders are shaking and he knows she's crying, even though they haven't read the verdict yet. Catherine sits rigidly next to him. He knows Catherine is disgusted with the case. They had had the girl arrested a few weeks ago for killing her best friend. The girl insists she did it out of love, that it was assisted suicide and not murder. While Nick sympathizes with the distraught girl, he can never tell Catherine that. She has clearly expressed her opinion already. Nick barely hears the guilty verdict as it is announced, focusing on the hysterical girl who was just convicted. He wonders if Kelly cried when she was sentenced.

Hours later, Nick finds himself in front of Kelly's apartment.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

He waits, knowing Kelly will let him in. Soon enough, the said woman stands before him.

"Hey." Her voice gives nothing away.

"Hey."

She steps aside and he steps in. It's like a dance, he decides. Every time, they follow the steps in fear of stumbling.

Step forward.

No words are spoken. They stare at each other, as if one of them would actually decide not to go through with it.

Slide to the right.

Kelly pushes her hair to the side, causing it to tumble over her shoulder, covering one eye. Nick steps forward and hesitantly pushes it back behind her ear.

Twirl.

Kelly tilts her head up and Nick tilts his down. Eyes close and lips crash against one another.

Step backwards.

Kelly's hands find his shoulders and squeeze them tightly, leaving red imprints there.

Slide to the left.

Nick grabs her waist brutally and guides her backwards to the bed.

Spin.

As they lay together afterwards, Nick decides to add a step.

He stares at the woman next to him, wondering whether or not he should ask what he's been wanting to for so long. He watches her chest rise and fall, watches her eyelashes caress her cheeks as her eyelids flutter slightly, watches the beginnings of bruises appear. He watches and he knows that he can ask her what he needs to.

"Would you kill me if I asked you to?" His voice is quiet and rough. Nick holds his breath waiting for the answer. He feels a sense of déjà vu as his minds briefly wanders back to the courtroom he sat in not too many hours ago.

"Yes." The answer is definite, easy, exactly what he was hoping to hear.

Nick closes his eyes and allows the feeling of immense relief and something close to happiness wash over him.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Many people come up and talk to Nick now. A lot of them he doesn't remember meeting before. All of the short conversations go mostly the same.

Faceless Stranger: Hey, Nick. How are you?

Nick: I'm good.

It hurts.

Faceless Stranger: What have you been doing lately?

Nick: Nothing really.

Dieing. Living. Wishing for both. Running from both.

Faceless Stranger: I hear you're back to work now.

Nick: Yeah. I'm glad to get back out in the field.

I'm scared.

Faceless Stranger: That's great.

Nick: Smile.

Screaming.

Faceless Stranger: Well, it was nice to see you.

Nick: You too.

Please don't leave.

Faceless Stranger: Talk to you later.

Nick: Bye.

Save me.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Nick pulls into a gas station and parks near the gas pump. He mechanically goes through the motions of filling the car. After the job is done he grabs his wallet and heads inside to pay when a hunched figure sitting near the side of the small building catches his eye. A woman with familiar dirty-blond hair and a grey mechanics uniform sits on the cold ground, legs drawn to her chest with one arm wrapped loosely around them.

"New job?" Nick asks, walking over to her.

"Mmm." She replies with (what Nick assumes is) the affirmative. Just as he becomes positive that she's going to ignore him, she speaks again. "I'm working here part time. I mostly help repair cars or clean up around the garage."

"I didn't know you knew a lot about cars."

"I learned in prison." A cold, terrible silence stretches between them following Kelly's deafeningly quiet statement. They had never mentioned anything like that- her time slowly dying in prison or his time slowly dying buried deep in the ground. They were forbidden subjects. Some wall had just been breeched, some thick red line crossed.

Nick leaves then, because, really, there is no possible response.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It's six more days before Warrick and Nick talk to each other outside of necessity. Nick is looking over the lab results he had just received when Warrick walks in and comes to stand before him. Nick looks up at the other man expectantly.

"You want to grab breakfast after shift tomorrow?"

"Definitely." Nick can't keep the relief out of his voice.

"'Kay, see ya tomorrow. Take care." Warrick calls, walking out of the room.

"Always do." Nick mumbles to the empty room.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

A few days later, Nick is sitting at home, watching the Discovery Channel on mute and picking at the label on his half-empty beer bottle when his doorbell rings. He sluggishly makes his way to the front door and opens it warily. He relaxes when he sees the petite form standing before him. Large eyes stare up at him. He notes the knotted hair, ruffled clothes, blotched cheeks, arms protectively wrapped around the trembling body.

"Nick." His name is spoken with such desperation, such reverence.

He silently tugs the woman in, shutting and locking the door behind her. She stands before him, unsure and needing.

"Nicky." It comes out as a gasp. She never calls him by his nickname. He's not sure why anyone ever calls him that. He never introduces himself as such. He doesn't really like it, but he's grown used to it.

"Nicky." She whimpers again. He's not sure why everyone else calls him 'Nicky', but he knows why Kelly is. She's pleading with him.

"Come on."

Now it's he who leads the other through his home and into his bedroom.

Kelly lies with one hand resting across her forehead palm side up, staring up at him. Her eyes were burning into his- questioning, demanding, begging. Those eyes were the same eyes he stared into all those months ago when they were separated only by protective glass. His gaze shoots to her open hand. He brushes his fingers lightly over the flower embedded there. She flinches and immediately clenches her hand into a fist, hiding the petals with her fingers. He wasn't sure if it was a warning or merely a reflex. Either way, he ignores it and continues what they had started. Her fist stays tightened the whole time, nails digging into skin. If Nick notices, he doesn't mention it.

Later, she lies in his arms, his fingers playing through her hair.

"I used to be pretty, you know." Kelly's soft voice breaks the quiet. She still is rather pretty, but Nick knows what she means.

"I used to be strong." He replies. She nods against his chest.

Suddenly she rolls onto her side to face him.

"I used to be sane." She's grinning, but he knows she isn't joking.

"Me too."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"Can I get you any more coffee?" The waitress chirps, eyeing Nick (and not for the first time this morning).

"I'm fine, thanks." Nick answers.

"Alright then, shall I bring you the bill?"

"Please." Nick nods.

As the waitress leaves, Warrick smirks at his friend, who pointedly ignores him.

Nick pushes the remaining food around on his plate lazily. Warrick is gazing out the window they sit next to, allowing his eyes to wander the parking lot and surrounding area absently. Nick's own eyes are drawn to the table in front of him, particularly the object in the other man's hand. Warrick twirls a coin between his fingers, light bouncing off the silver surface sharply.

Heads. Flip. Tails. Flip. Heads. Flip. Tails.

The fingers finally still, leaving the coin to lay flat on the table. Nick manages to rip his eyes away from the gleaming coin, which sits so innocently taunting him, just as Warrick's stare moves back to him.

"So, man, what have you been up to lately? I haven't seen you around outside of work for a while." Warrick asks.

"Nothing interesting. I've just been hanging around the house, watching the Discovery Channel and cleaning." Nick shrugs.

"You need a life, my friend." Warrick shakes his head in amusedly. Nick roles his eyes and continues to play with his food.

The waitress with the never faltering smile hops back to them, placing the bill on the table. Nick smiles in thanks and waits for her to leave, looking back up when she doesn't move.

"Um, I don't want to be too forward, but, I was, ugh, wondering if you would want to give me a call sometime?" She tilts her head to the side, allowing auburn hair to fall over her shoulder. She's a beautiful woman with long legs and intense emerald eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not really looking for a girlfriend right now." Nick says sincerely.

He's not quite sure why he turns her down. All he knows is that he has no intention of letting go of Kelly. Even if they don't have the most…conventional relationship, he could never cheat on the woman he's with. That's just not what good boys do.

He cringes as he sees the dazzling eyes fill slightly with embarrassed tears. He really hates to see women cry. Well, with the exception of Kelly. Kelly is prettiest when she cries.

"Oh, okay. Right, well, I'll be back for the bill in a minute." She says as she scurries away. Nick watches her go guiltily.

"Dude, why'd you turn her down?" Warrick asks incredulously. Nick just shrugs once again. "You need a girl to get you out of that funk your in."

"I'm not in a funk." Nick insists glumly.

"Whatever, man. I just don't get why you'd turn her down. She seemed like a nice girl."

Nick almost laughs. He had a girl, though she was anything but a "nice girl".

"I'm just not interested in anything heavy right now. It's hard to start a relationship with the hours we have. I'd rather focus on my job right now." And for a moment Warrick looks as if he will object, but he just nods, accepting the lies as he has so many times before.

"Hey, how's Tina doing anyway?" Nick asks, successfully changing the subject.

"Tina's good." Warrick doesn't elaborate further and Nick wonders if the marriage is finally stating to fall apart.

The waitress returns with a little less pep and collects the bill, wishing both men good day.

"Well, I had better be getting home. See ya tomorrow, 'Rick." Nick says, walking over to his car.

"Yeah, take care, Nicky."

Nick waits until Warrick leaves the parking lot before starting to head towards Kelly's apartment.

He knocks and waits for the familiar sounds of the locks clicking undone. Thin arms grab him roughly, pulling him into the perpetually dark apartment.

"C'mon, we've gotta be fast. I'm on shift soon." She says, already starting to undress.

Nick isn't about to object and pulls his shirt over his head.

There are quick touches, fleeting kisses, and less blood and bruises than usual.

As they lay catching their breath afterwards, Nick pulls Kelly into his arms. She lets him.

"I was at breakfast with Warrick. The waitress asked me out." Nick says. She doesn't reply. "I said no." He doesn't know why, but he needs her to know this.

Kelly remains quiet, tracing circles on his chest with her nails, hard enough to hurt faintly, but lightly enough not to leave marks. Finally she lets out a sigh, which is a mixture of amusement and contentment.

"You're so naïve." Kelly has called him this more than once in the past. He never understands why, but never bothers contesting the statements.

"Warrick thinks I'm crazy…Or maybe gay." She laughs at that. He's surprised that the sound isn't as unpleasant as he would have thought.

"I'm you dirty little secret." She teases.

"You're my favorite secret." Nick replies playfully.

"And how many secrets do you have, Nick?" Her tone lowers seductively.

"More than I'll ever tell you." The gentle whisper contrasts the harsh statement.

She rolls away reluctantly and begins to dress, with Nick following suit. She pauses suddenly and moves over to the window, ripping open the blinds. Nick moves to stand behind her. Light streams in, hitting both of them.

"Isn't the sky pretty in the morning?" Kelly looks out the window at the world below.

She wonders what it would be like to jump.

"It is." Nick smiles.

He feels like his face is burning off, the skin tearing away.

Her fingertips run along the scarlet scratches on his arms. His hand grips her right hip, pressing against a covered bruise softly.

She presses a hand flat against the windowpane.

Nick thinks maybe they're only fooling themselves.

"You'd never be able to catch me." She whispers.

Nick thinks maybe they're bad for each other.

"I wouldn't try." He promises.

Nick thinks maybe they belong together.