The Long Road

Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Thanks to Cropper for the beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

"I can't." The words hung in the air between them.

Catherine watched the changing expressions on Warrick's face, from confusion to anger to pain. When the true import of her answer registered, his eyes widened and his nostrils flared. He stared at her. His lips moved but no sound came out. His mind struggled to process the shattering of his heart. He had often heard people say that men don't feel as deeply, hurt as badly or love as strongly as women. That could not be further from the truth. And in Warrick's case he was merely a shell of the man he had been a few moments before; his hopes of making a life with the woman before him dashed upon the rocks of her insecurities. Finally, never making a sound, he turned and walked out of the room, out the door and into the hell of loneliness Catherine had just created for him.

The sound of the door snicking closed spurred Catherine into action. Rushing to the door, she threw it open and ran outside. "Wait! Warrick...," her voice trailed off as she caught sight of him backing out of the driveway. "Wait," she whispered into the emptiness.

Slowly, she made her way back into the house. Closing the door, she stumbled blindly into the living room and sank down on the couch. She drew her legs up and huddled into the corner. Her body trembled and her breath shuddered in and out of her lungs but no tears came. She wanted to scream, to throw things, to go over to his house and shake him until he would let her explain. Instead she sat, her thoughts tumbling around in her head, pounding at her skull as if they could escape.

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"Hey, Rick," Nick drawled. "How's it going?"

Warrick glanced at his friend who was sprawled in a chair in the break room and continued on his way to the coffee pot. When he had poured a cup he turned to find Nick's eyes on him, his gaze concerned.

"Are you okay, man?" Nick asked.

Warrick pulled out a chair and sat down, resting his elbows on the table, hands rubbing roughly over his face. "Not tonight Nick," he mumbled, disregarding the shock in his co-worker's eyes. "I'm not in the mood for it."

"Um, yeah. Whatever." Nick's voice was puzzled and a little angry. "Sorry for caring," he muttered.

With a huff of exasperation, Warrick shoved back from the table. Standing, he snatched his cup up and stormed from the room, nearly mowing down Greg who was on his way in.

Greg loped into the room casting a worried glance over his shoulder. "What's wrong with Warrick?" he asked.

Nick shook his head, a frown drawing at the corners of his mouth. "I don't know. I asked if he was okay and he stormed out."

"Maybe he's still upset about what happened this morning. You know, that guy getting shot right in front of him." Greg shrugged as he joined Nick at the table. "I know it would mess with me."

"Yeah, but he didn't seem that upset about it after shift. He was quiet but not mad." Nick thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No. He's pissed about something else."

Further conversation was cut short when Grissom appeared with assignment slips in his hand. "Where's Warrick?" he asked, looking around the room.

"He was here," Nick said, "but he had to take care of something. He'll be back." He kept his eyes on Grissom, refusing to meet Greg's gaze for fear of giving something away.

"Well, let's get started." Grissom shuffled through the papers and pulled out one that he handed to Greg. "There's a robbery at a convenience store. It's pretty straight forward. Just collect the tapes and finger print. You know the routine."

Greg looked up, a smile lighting his face. "Solo?"

"Solo," Grissom nodded, his mouth twisting into a grin when Greg bounded out of the room with his hands raised in victory.

Clearing his throat, Grissom looked at Nick and said, "You get a home invasion over in Dry Lake. I need you to take Warrick and head out there."

Nick, unable to hide his discomfort, took the slip from Grissom and started out the door. He stopped but did not turn around when Grissom said, "Whatever it is work it out." With a slight nod, Nick left the room.

The silence in the car was deafening. Nick, not willing to risk being rebuffed again, concentrated on driving while Warrick studied the scenery as if the endless miles of dirt and rock were something he had never seen before. When they arrived at the scene, Nick let out a low whistle of appreciation for the house that stood at the end of the long curving drive. Warrick's only response was a slight shake of his head.

They made their way toward the house, the red and blue lights from the patrol cars illuminating the way. After signing in, Warrick turned to Nick and said, "I'll take the perimeter." Without waiting for a response he turned and disappeared around the side of the house.

Drawing in a calming breath, Nick made his way inside. He took note of the man seated on the couch with a paramedic crouched down in front of him. He was a slender man with dark hair and a mustache. He was wincing at the sting of the antiseptic being used to clean his wounds. There was a cut above the man's eye that was going to require several stitches. He was also holding his left arm close to his body in a way that suggested other injuries.

Nick walked over and introduced himself to the victim. "Hi. I'm Nick Stokes with the Crime Lab. Are you Mr. Freeman?" The man nodded and Nick said, "I'm going to need to get some pictures before they take you to the hospital, if that's alright."

The paramedic turned his head and said, "Hey Nick. How's it going?"

"Hank," he replied, his voice cold and hard. "Are you almost done here?"

Eyeing the other man speculatively, Hank nodded before saying, "How long you gonna carry that grudge Stokes? Even Sara is over it by now."

"Let me know when you're done," Nick instructed making his way over to where Brass was standing.

Brass looked up when Nick joined him. "This kind of stuff pisses me off. Aren't the crooks smart enough to know when somebody's home? Like robbing them isn't bad enough, you have to beat them up too?"

Nick took a look at the man across the room. "Could've been worse. He could be dead."

Brass shook his head before saying, "You're right. Still…" His voice trailed off and he shrugged.

"So, what do we have?"

Brass gestured with his head and Nick followed. "Point of entry seems to be the laundry room. It's at the other end of the first floor; far away from the family room. The window was forced and there're footprints on top of the washer."

Nick's eyes scanned the room. "Seems convenient. How did the perp know to use that window? The vic had never seen the guy before?"

Brass shook his head. "He says no. Gave us a description that is so generic it could be anybody. I figure that this will go into the file of the great unsolved, unless we get lucky with a print or something."

"That's what I love about you Brass, your optimism," Nick said with a smirk.

"Just call me Mary Sue," Brass snarked.

Nick barked out a laugh before saying, "Let's see if they're ready for us."

While Brass went over a list of the man's possible injuries, Nick photographed the bruises and cuts so that they could be entered into evidence. Nick also collected a ten card from Mr. Freeman so that he could be excluded from any prints they might lift from the house. When that was done, the man was loaded into the ambulance and taken to the hospital for treatment. Brass made sure to let him know that he would need to give a formal statement.

Nick quickly began to photograph the destruction that had been wrought during the fight. What had been a very nice coffee table was cracked and missing a leg. There was broken glass from a table lamp scattered over the hardwood floor and the television, one of the newer flat screen models, was laying face down on the Persian rug. There was cast off on the wall by the doorway to the kitchen. The drawers in the master bedroom and the office had been ransacked. Nick knew that they would have to wait for a list of missing items from the homeowner. Until then, all they could do was collect any trace and fingerprints.

Nick was printing the family room when Warrick made an appearance. Glancing up, Nick said, "Find anything?"

"Some broken shrubbery and a shoe print. I took pictures and cast the print. That stuff is already locked in the car." Warrick's voice sounded tired. With a weary sigh, he said, "Nick, I…um…I'm sorry about earlier."

"That's okay, man."

"No. It's not okay. You didn't ask for that."

Nick nodded. "Is there anything I can do? You need to talk about anything?"

"Nah. I'll be okay." Warrick's voice was steady but his eyes were sad.

"Rick, you know that I understand about being scared at a scene. Hell, I could probably give you lessons. So, if you're embarrassed don't be." Nick's brown eyes were filled with concern, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Warrick walked over and held out a fist, waiting on Nick to bump his knuckles. "I'm fine man. I swear." Giving his friend a reassuring smile, Warrick said, "Now, let's get this finished and go home."

The two worked silently, printing the remainder of the rooms and swabbing the blood spatter on the wall. When all the evidence had been placed in bindles and all the prints lifted, the two men packed up their cases and went outside to be greeted by the first faint light of dawn. The drive back to Vegas was less tense but still strangely quiet.

Nick pulled into a parking space and turned to Warrick. "Want to get a beer after we clock out?"

Shaking his head, Warrick started to decline but at the last second said, "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"Great! I'll lock this stuff in the vault and meet you in the break room in twenty." At Warrick's nod of approval, Nick continued, "I just need to check in with Wendi before we go. I don't want her waiting around for me."

As if someone had flipped a switch, Warrick's features hardened. "If you'd rather be with Wendi it's okay."

Thoroughly puzzled, Nick said, "Huh? What's that about?" Warrick remained silent, staring out the window. Realization slowly dawning, Nick said, "Oh. Okaaaaaaaaaay. I wouldn't rather be with Wendi. I just need to let her know what I'm doing and make sure she doesn't think I've dumped her." Immediately realizing his mistake, Nick stammered, "That…um…that…shit!"

Trying not to chuckle at his friend's discomfort, Warrick said, "It's okay man. Let's just go." With that he opened the door and, closing it behind him, headed for the lab.

Forty-five minutes found the men sitting at a table at the Blue Parrott. It was a locals' bar that catered to the residents of their fair city. There was a minimum of neon. The waitress wore shorts, tennis shoes and a t-shirt. There wasn't a slot machine in sight. And at eight o'clock in the morning, Nick and Warrick were the only two patrons.

When the waitress came around, Warrick ordered a double Jack on the rocks and a glass of water, earning a raised eyebrow from Nick. He merely shrugged and leaned back in his chair. When their drinks had been delivered, Warrick took a healthy swallow of the amber liquid and followed it with a sip of water. He repeated the process, draining the glass and signaling to the waitress for another.

"You sure you need to do that?" Nick asked, indicating the bartender passing the glass to their waitress.

"Yeah. I'm sure." Warrick thanked the woman when she placed the glass in front of him. "Don't worry. I can handle it."

"I'm not worried about that," Nick told him. "Just making sure you know what you're doing."

Warrick looked at him and gave a tight smile. "I hope I'm getting shit-faced drunk. At least that is my intention."

Nick's eyebrows shot up, his eyes wide with surprise. "Looks like I'm driving." Warrick nodded and continued drinking. After a moment Nick said, "Why don't you tell me what happened with Cath?"

Warrick's eyes, filled with denial, locked with Nick's. He huffed out a laugh at the irony of the situation. Nick, Mr. Never Been Married, trying to give him advice. Drawing in a deep breath, he said, "I asked her to marry me."

"What!" Nick yelped. "When?"

Warrick stared into his glass and said quietly, "Last night."

"I take it she didn't say yes."

"You got that right." Warrick took another swallow and said, "She told me she couldn't marry me."

Nick sat quietly, contemplating the situation. "Did you tell her about what happened yesterday?"

"Of course I did. I, uh, needed somebody to talk to."

"Shit, Rick. You don't get it do you?" Nick's voice was scornful.

"Get what?" Warrick asked, raising bleary eyes to Nick's face.

"She turned you down because of that." When the other man started to speak, Nick held up a hand. "You married Tina because of what happened to me. Now you get scared, life flashes before your eyes, and you propose to Cath. No wonder she said no."

"Damn Nick," Warrick exclaimed, "how could I have been so stupid? I need you take me to the lab." He jumped up and threw a twenty down on the table. He was half way out the door when Nick finally realized that he was gone.