White Carnations
Chapter 3: Happily Ever After
Nick watches Grissom out of the corner of his eye as he passes his boss in the hallway. Grissom gives him a nod in recognition as Nick sends him a small wave. Both continue on their opposite ways. No words are spoken. Nick finds he's been talking less and less with those he works with, especially with Grissom. Whereas, before, Nick had always felt comfortable with Grissom, now it is like he can't stand to be around the man. He has been trying, as subtly as possible, to avoid his boss since he started the affair with Kelly. Nick has the irrational fear that Grissom will be able to read his mind and learn his every disturbing secret if he spends enough time with his superior. He's Grissom; he would just know. Grissom has always been a sort-of-superhero in his mind. Nick can't stand the thought of Grissom knowing.
Nick comes to a halt mid stride. At this moment, Nick realizes something that absolutely terrifies him. If Grissom knew, it would disappoint him. And Nick doesn't care if he does. He can't stand the thought of Grissom knowing because it would mean confirming what Nick doesn't want to admit- he's changed. He's not untouched, he's not unaffected, he's not the same. Nick has known he has changed for a long while now, but he's never admitted it.
Nick swiftly spins around and hurries into the men's room, closing himself in a stall. He rolls up his sleeve and looks at the lines of red decorating the skin there. They're from her, her nails digging into his arm.
He stands there, leaning against the closed door, staring at his arm as if seeing the marks for the first time.
He's not sure how much time has passed before he pushes his sleeve back down and leaves the bathroom, returning to the task that had been interrupted by his thought a few moments ago.
He had come to a decision, locked up in that stall. He had decided that he was never going back to Kelly again. He doesn't realize until much later that that was no longer his decision to make.
Nick lasts approximately three days until he begins to lose focus, his mind constantly wandering.
Two more days pass when Nick snaps and punches a suspect in the jaw and gets chewed out by Brass.
Four days go by with Nick avoiding everyone in the lab. That is, until Greg stumbles upon him and gets his head bitten off for making a typical quirky Greg comment.
It takes Nick a day to get up the nerve to apologize.
It's takes two more days for Greg to stop giving him the silent treatment and for Sara to stop giving him confused glares.
It's three days later and Nick is desperately trying to ignore the concerned looks Catherine and Warrick keep sending his way in hopes of hanging onto his sanity for a little bit longer.
It's another two days before Nick admits he has a problem- he's going into withdrawal.
It's three hours later that Nick finds himself in front of the building that is familiar yet alien with the ugly-pretty girl in the apartment that is big enough to be suffocating.
Kelly looks so different, yet exactly the same. Nick doesn't move to come in and she doesn't move to let him. Kelly looks at him and Nick can tell that she knows she has him now. He knows it too. But it's okay, because he has her too, and she knows it.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick scrunches up his nose in disgust.
"That's just gross." He mumbles to himself as he pulls the dirty shirt over his head.
Warrick turns to look at his friend, spotting the dark mark on the discarded shirt.
"What is that?"
"Dead chipmunk. Don't ask. Just…don't." Nick glares at the offending stain. He really likes chipmunks. And he really liked that shirt.
"Ooookay," Warrick drawls. He is about to turn back around to his locker when he notices strings of scarlet up and down his friend's back. His brows furrow in concern until realization dawns upon him. Warrick begins to chuckle in surprised amusement. Nick turns and instantly realizes what the other man was staring at. He can't help but send a smirk which causes the taller man to raise both eyebrows in a silent question. Nick nods in confirmation and Warrick pats him on the back, shaking his head ruefully.
"Nice. Very nice. Whatever happened to having no time for a relationship?"
"I couldn't stay away from her." Nick responds truthfully. Though, it's not really a relationship per se, he thinks to himself. A relationship needs to grow and this relationship never can. This relationship is all about the past- past mistakes, past hurt. They don't even realize it but they're trapping themselves in the very thing they're trying to escape through each other.
Nick allows his thoughts to drift as his friend leaves the locker room.
He and Kelly don't have a normal "relationship". He is the first to admit that. When they're angry, they go to each other. They both end up with darkening marks afterwards, but that's just the way their arrangement works. He doesn't ever have to feel guilty (even if some little part of him always does) because she is just as rough, just as cruel, just as lost. He thinks she's saving him from drowning, but really, now they're just drowning together.
He goes into work wearing long sleeves because there are scratches covering his arms. She wears turtlenecks because there are bite marks all along her collarbone. He tries not to undress in front of his colleagues because there are bruises covering his shoulders. She never wears low-cut pants or belly-tops because there are fingerprint-shaped marks along her waist. Some people may consider these markings ugly, but Nick thinks there is something incredibly beautiful about them. He needs these as reminders, and he's pretty sure Kelly does too.
Nick thinks he's come to care for her in some warped way. The other day, in a moment of terrible passion, he told her that he loved her. She slapped him. He's not sure why. He doesn't think even she knows why. So, they continue on with their depraved romance, not even trying to lie with sweet words.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Kelly shows up at Nick's door a little before eleven p.m. It's his night off and he had planned to spend a quiet evening of reading, but when Kelly says, "let's go out for drinks" Nick just nods and follows her out.
The bar is crowded and smoky. There are a number of people who have already drank more than their fair share and are now stumbling around the room or talking much too loudly with their friends.
"C'mon, Stokes, you're paying." Kelly says, taking a seat at the bar. Nick, the gentleman that he is, obliges and hands over some bills to the bartender.
"You come here a lot?" Nick asks, finding himself genuinely curious. He has noticed Kelly doesn't like to go out if she doesn't absolutely have to. She's the definition of anti-social, but Nick supposes he has no place to talk, as he himself has not been much of a social butterfly lately.
"Nope."
Ah. Right. Well then.
"So, we gonna get drunk?" Nick asks, strangely uncomfortable with the silence.
"Yup."
Nick looks down at the whiskey sitting before him. The silence was back and Nick is scared he's going to start thinking deep, life-assessing thoughts, and right now he would really prefer not to.
"Just drink your drink, Nick." Kelly's voice, slow and gentle as if talking to a child, cuts in.
Nick nods and lifts his glass.
Almost two more hours full of drinking and sitting and silence, and Nick is beginning to become restless…as well as more than a little drunk.
"Life sucks." He grumbles.
"Why yes, yes it does." Kelly replies.
"A lot." Nick says shortly, because, in his mind, that was an important point to add to his earlier statement. Not to mention the ability to recognize proper sentence structure was long gone. He takes another swig of his drink before turning to look innocently at Kelly. "How come all that bad stuff happened to us?"
"I guess we're just lucky." Nick can't help but burst out into hysterical laughter at the statement as Kelly grins wildly.
"I think I'm kinda drunk." Nick says when he calms down.
"Yeah," Kelly muses. "Me too."
"I think we should leave now." Nick drops some bills on the table and stands, placing his hand on Kelly's shoulder to guide her. "Come on, I'll walk you home."
The walk is quiet and sobering. A chilling wind rushes at them as they trudge down the street. Fluorescent lights illuminate their path, making up for the unseen stars. Girls in far too little clothing stand on the street corners. Bodiless voices can be heard whispering in dark allies. Men lean against the brick wall of a club, money being exchanged for baggies of powder. Nick wonders when this all became so normal.
Nick remembers his tenth grade history teacher once saying, "We are all dieing from the moment we are born." He remembers thinking how cynical that was, how he was never going to let his view of the world become so distorted. He wonders when he changed.
They reach the apartment, both considerably more clear-headed. They linger at the doors of the building, waiting for something neither are sure of. Finally, Kelly motions for Nick to follow her up to her apartment. He trails behind her obediently. As he climbs the endless flight of stairs he remembers when he was a little boy how his mother would read him story books and tell him fairy tales.
Once upon a time there lived a prince…
Once upon a time there lived a princess…
Kelly unlocks the door and they both step out of the lighted hallway into the gentle arms of the dark. Nick takes off his jacket and slips of his shoes, stumbling slightly, the alcohol affecting him more than he would admit. Kelly clasps his hand in hers and drags him over to the bed.
The prince was kind and good, and all the people of the Kingdom loved him…
The princess was beautiful and sweet, and she was adored by all the creatures of the enchanted forest…
He places a soft kiss on her rosy lips. She leans into his warmth. They fall into a rare embrace, both content to just lean on the other, allowing the alcohol and darkness to soothe them.
Then, one day, the prince was captured by the evil sorcerer…
Then, one day, the princess stumbled upon a horrible dragon…
They break apart. Kelly backs away slowly and lies down against cool sheets. Nick crawls over to her and leans above her, staring down into her eyes and all he can see is blackness.
The prince fought and fought the evil sorcerer with all his might…
The princess waited and waited to be saved…
She grabs his hair suddenly, roughly tugging on it. He kisses her again, but this time he bites her lip. The first bead of blood forms on her bottom lip. He licks it away before it can fall.
And he defeated the evil sorcerer and went off to save his princess…
And her prince charming came and whisked her away to his castle…
Sharp nails draw crimson trails down his arms. He lets his forehead rest against hers for a moment and neither move. The darkness kisses their heated skin and the quiet viciously assaults their ears. Lips meet again angrily.
They both lived happily ever after.
There are tears now, but neither knows who is crying.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Tick.
Nick sits in the dim light of his living room, staring at the clock on the wall opposite him. He watches in fascination as the longer hand moves to the 12, indicating it is now four a.m.
Tick.
His eyes slide over to phone beside him. The little red light is flashing, which means he has messages. He stares fixatedly at the blinking light until reaching out and pushing a few buttons. His eyes travel back to the clock as he waits with the phone to his ear for the message to start.
Tick.
"Nick, sweety, it's Mom. I haven't heard from you in two weeks now. I was just wondering how you were doing? It would be nice to hear from you. Call me back soon, Nicky. Bye now."
Click.
Silence.
"If you would like to save this message, press 6. If you would like to delete-"
Beep.
"Message is deleted. There are no new messages." Nick lowers his hand onto his lap.
Tick.
His mother has been calling regularly ever since the incident. She calls almost every week, but never once does she mention what happened.
Tick.
He hasn't answered or returned one of her calls in three weeks. Maybe this is cruel, but he can't stand another shallow conversation of skittering around issues. She's smothering him and it's only making him push away like a rebellious teenager.
Tick.
He runs his thumb over the phone still resting in his hand. Perhaps he'll call her… No. Maybe tomorrow. After all, things will always look brighter tomorrow. Tomorrow is always better than today. He's been waiting for tomorrow for a very long time. But until it gets here, he can settle for living in today.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick stares into empty eyes, like those of the many corpses he sees. Sometimes Nick almost mistakes Kelly for a corpse. When she's lying in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling unblinkingly, with pale skin and lips parted as if gasping for breath, he almost forgets that's she still alive. For a moment, he thinks he's back at work, at a crime scene, examining the next new victim.
"Stop." It's close to a hiss and Nick quickly averts his eyes, knowing how much Kelly hates it when he stares at her like that.
Kelly brings her lips to his a hard kiss. Nick closes his eyes and allows himself to get lost in the sensations.
Kelly brings her hand to his arm and instead of pinching or scratching, she runs her fingers lightly along his arm. And suddenly, Nick's back there and all he can feel is the crawling. With a cry, he pushes Kelly away, knocking her into her dresser. She stares up at him unapologetically. There's a moment of silence before she stands and they continue what they had started.
Once Kelly is asleep, Nick slips out and returns half an hour later, clutching a bouquet of flowers.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Catherine meets Nick as he walks through the doors of the lab.
"Hey, Nicky, we've got a case." Catherine holds up a folder.
"Great." Nick follows Catherine back out of the lab. They drive to a parking garage where they are greeted by two officers.
"Sylvia Mullins, an accountant who works in the building." An officer says, motioning to the corpse in the car behind him.
Nick nods and begins to examine the body with Catherine.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick stares blankly at the computer before him.
Lies.
Sylvia Mullins was in charge of Gordon's finances. Kelly had met with her (the day that she was killed, a little voice in the back of his head reminds). He tightens his fists. He wants to scream angry questions: Why couldn't she have left it behind? Why did she have to take it with her? Why couldn't she just let go? But he doesn't because he knows why.
All this time Nick had thought that their saving grace was that their relationship was honest. They never lied to each other. Now, Nick realizes they did lie to each other. They still are. They never lied with sweet nothings or romantic notions. They never lied about happiness, but they lied about every other single thing.
He understands why she always calls him naïve.
He fiddles with the tape in his hand. It is the tape left by Gordon…and someone else, according to Archie and Grissom. There is someone else's voice on that tape. Someone else helped put him down there in that maddening prison. Someone else helped to torture him, and no one thought to tell him. He should be furious with Grissom for this- this betrayal. He should be, but what right does he have?
"Hey, Nick, any leads?" Catherine asks, breezing into the room.
Nick moves his gaze to the autopsy report next to him.
"Yeah, one."
Sylvia Mullins is dead and Nick is pretty sure Kelly is the one who killed her.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick sags tiredly in the break room chair, munching on an apple and allowing his mind to wander.
"Heya, Nicky. How's the case going?" Warrick's deep voice distracts him from his thoughts. Nick turns to see his friend take a seat next to him.
"Not too bad. Archie is still working on the security tape, and Catherine is with Sophia, picking up our suspect right now." Warrick nods briefly.
They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments before a teasing smirk spreads across Warrick's face.
"So, you going to see your girlfriend tonight?" Nick shakes his head.
"She's mad at me."
"Why?"
"I gave her flowers." Warrick's brows shoot up.
"Uh-huh. Dude, that's fucked up."
Nick grins.
"It really is."
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick stands against a wall, watching as Sophia and Catherine escort Kelly into the interrogation room. Kelly isn't struggling or crying or confessing. She's blank. Her eyes sweep over him and she flashes her teeth. He must be forgiven, he decides, as he follows the three women into the room. Catherine casts a look his way, but Nick waves it off, wordlessly assuring her that he will be fine.
Kelly is sat down in an uncomfortable plastic chair. Her body is slumping, folding into itself, while her facial expressions and the air about her contradict the nervous posturing. She knows what she is doing. She's been here over and over and over again. She knows this game, she knows the rules, and she wants to win. But Nick, he knows this game too, better than Kelly does, and he knows he will win.
"Ms. Gordon, do you know why you are here?" He feels as if he is someone else, an actor playing the role.
"No, I don't know why." Kelly's voice is so confused and so innocent that Nick has to stop himself from laughing aloud.
"Sylvia Mullins was found dead, run over by her own car." Nick says seriously, taking on a tough-cop persona, only not really, because Kelly can see through him and his lies every single time.
"Oh. I'm sorry, but is that supposed to be significant to me?" She speaks a little more coldly than she means to. Nick is vaguely disappointed. He had thought that she would have been able to play act a little better than this.
"She used to work for your father." Nick stresses the word, feeling some pride in the way she cringes. "She handled his financial affairs after he died."
"Oh. I didn't know that. I haven't had much to do with my father for quite a while. You knew that." She directs the comment to Catherine. Nick had almost forgotten she was there.
"You met with her the day she was killed." Catherine says.
"So?" Kelly returns in monotone, ignoring the fact that she has just been caught in her own lie.
Neither of the CSIs nor the detective reply. They can't arrest her; they don't have any hard evidence against Kelly, only a strong suspicion. Kelly catches Nick's eyes, and they lock gazes, coming to a silent understanding.
"Catherine, Sophia, I'd like to talk to Ms. Gordon alone." Kelly isn't going to talk to anyone else, but at least Nick has a chance at breaking through her defenses.
Catherine is hesitant, but, trusting Nick, gives in and leaves. Sophia follows the other woman's lead, exiting the room.
"Ms. Gordon, would you please tell me what you met with Ms. Mullins about?"
"We discussed the arrangements my father made for after his death."
"I see. How did your meeting go?"
"Fine."
"Did Ms. Mullins seem…off to you? Scared? Upset?"
"No, she seemed perfectly fine, but then again, I don't really know the woman."
Words shoot back and forth. Each play the game, always striving for the match point. At the same time, both tread carefully, knowing that Catherine is still watching and listening.
"Did you see anyone suspicious around her office? Anything that seems out of the norm?"
"No." She won't give in and he's not sure if he should feel relieved or angry.
"I see. Well, I don't have anymore questions for you at this time." Kelly moves to stand up, but as she does, Nick leans towards her menacingly. "Know this: I am going to find the evidence you've left and when I do, I'm sending you right back to prison."
"No, Mr. Stokes, you never will." He thinks she's mocking him, not understanding she is merely promising a goodbye.
The flow of adrenalin begins to slow as his anger (towards Kelly, what she's done, what she is, what he's done, what he is) dissipates.
He wills his thoughts to reach her, concentrates on creating a temporary psychic connection with the woman before him. Why did you do it? He wants to ask the question, but just can't. It wouldn't matter even if he did; she wouldn't answer.
Sophia interrupts the moment as she reenters the room, tugging Kelly out of the interrogation room. The interview is over. He watches the door closing behind Kelly, blocking her from his sight. Nick is left alone, mourning the storybook ending they can never have.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Nick goes back to Kelly that night, to her apartment, to her bedroom. Sorrow temporarily pushed aside, Nick goes to the girl he dares to call his, refusing to acknowledge that little voice that tells him this is going too far, this is too far from what is right. She's a suspect. She's a murderer, the voice corrects. He has no doubt that this is hurting them; he can't bring himself to care.
He notes the crumpled flowers on the floor. They lay there sadly, grotesquely withered and utterly destroyed.
She doesn't mention anything about today, neither does her. He kisses her like he has so many times before and she kisses him right back as she always does. There is something different about today, though. It's not more gentle or loving. It's not more bruising or hateful. It is the end. It's something bittersweet, though more bitter than sweet. Nick wonders if he is ready for tomorrow to arrive; he's not so sure he is anymore.
The only thing spoken is a whisper, "Would you kill me if I asked you to?"
"Yes," comes the steady, practiced reply.
The words, their own twisted version of "I love you", die in the ever-blackened room.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
It is the very next day that Archie calls Catherine and Nick to his lab. He's found something on the security tape- a hand. They watch the video, see the hand which can only belong to her. It was such a stupid move that Nick wonders if perhaps Kelly actually wants to be caught. He has his evidence, just as he threatened (promised?). He even has the motive- Mullins was stealing money from Gordon, cheating Kelly out of what she thought she deserved. Even more surprising, she was the other voice on the recording left by Walter Gordon. Nick's sure he should care (be angry she had walked free for so long or at least happy she is dead), but he just can't seem to find the energy.
Nick doesn't feel any of the emotions he thought he would as he drives with Catherine and Sophia to Kelly's apartment. In fact, he doesn't feel much of anything at all. He only feels…expectant, he decides. Yes, he feels expectant as one would when awaiting the ending scene of a movie.
He takes the lead, running up the stairs two at a time. The two blonde women are not far behind. He doesn't even pretend to have to look for her apartment number, going straight to the door he knows is hers. He doesn't bother knocking, just turns the doorknob, knowing, for some inexplicable reason, that this time it will be unlocked.
Kelly is sitting propped up on the bed. To Nick, even with the same pale skin and corpse-like eyes, she looks more alive now than she has any other time before. He walks further into the room, faintly registering the two presences entering behind him.
He sees the empty pill bottle and he knows. He ignores the stares and kisses her- a goodbye, a thank you, an apology, all wrapped into one. When he pulls away, Kelly shakily lifts her hand to his cheek.
"I did it for you, Nick."
He laughs, because he just can't cry.
"No. You didn't."
She grins and allows her eyes to drop shut. She dies smiling, which somehow is just so perfect that it makes Nick smile too.
He isn't sad. Maybe he should be, but he isn't. Death is such a divine mercy, life too cruel a punishment. She could never be fixed. He thinks maybe he can be saved though, because while she was absolutely shattered, he is merely broken.
Nick begins to leave as Sophia starts chest compressions. He doesn't try to save her, letting her go just as he promised he would.
He walks all the way back down the flight of dirty stairs and pushes the door open, stepping into the morning. The sun is shining as he leaves and for the first time in a very long time, it doesn't burn. He thinks he'll give his mom a call tonight. It's finally tomorrow.
