Title: Meaningless - Chapter 7
Author: B0gw0ppit
Rating: M
Summary: Wendy couldn't believe she had been so stupid. Had it really all been meaningless? Wedges
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my dreams, my dog and my VW camper
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Wendy leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes and yawning for the tenth time that minute. It was no good, she couldn't concentrate, and now it wasn't just the subconsciously suppressed hope of seeing Hodges that had her unable to do her job. A few days had passed since she had made her terrifying discovery, and she was no nearer making a decision about what to do now than she had been then. Her first instinct had of course been to get rid of it, to cover up any evidence of that drunken encounter and get on with her life. But the more she thought about it the more she didn't think she would be able to do it, and the more Hodges' face kept popping into her thoughts. Whenever she pictured him though he wasn't wearing the mask of blank indifference that she was getting used to seeing, nor was he sneering disdainfully at her latest blunder the way he had been so fond of doing before. He didn't even have the self-satisfied little smile that he had worn the night they... that night. No, whenever his face drifted into her mind these days all she could see was a deep and abiding sadness in his beautiful blue eyes.
She had been sick this morning, puking her guts up before she even had a chance to get out of bed, and so she had had the delightful chore of cleaning that up before she had come to work on top of everything else. She felt sick again now, hadn't been able to face eating anything, and knew she must look like a zombie to anyone who cared to look in.
She had seen Hodges earlier, and for a moment they had both stopped, face to face in the corridor, just looking at each other. Just for a split second Wendy had seen something other than that familiar blank look in his eyes, and she had almost said something to him... anything, anything to stop this eternal awkward silence that stretched between them constantly these days. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, because just lately she had begun to get a dreadful feeling that he knew what she had said about him, what she had thought about him in the days afterward. She wanted to tell him she didn't think that any more. She wanted to tell him she didn't care what people thought, that she missed him and wanted to... to...
But as quickly as the look in his eyes was there so it was gone again, to be replaced by the look of emptiness bordering on derision that she had seen there ever since that night. And so she had kept quiet, and they had gone their separate ways once more.
She felt sick again. In fact... she was going to be sick again... Oh God...
Wendy pushed herself away from the computer and stood up, practically pushing Greg, who was just coming in for some results, through the glass as she rushed out of the door towards the bathroom. The CSI swayed out of her way, then stared after her open-mouthed for a second before walking out after her. He saw Jacqui look up from her own lab as Wendy streaked past, and discretely followed her as she went after her friend. This had to be worth an eavesdrop...
"Wendy, Wendy honey are you ok?" Jacqui called as she walked into the women's restroom, closing the door behind her before she could see a certain young man hovering outside.
She heard a groan from one of the cubicles, and hesitantly pushed the door open to see the young woman kneeling down with her head over the bowl.
"Hey sweetie," she said softly. "Are you ok?"
"No, I'm dying," came the muffled reply, but slowly the dark head was lifted to reveal a pale face with swollen eyes, dark rings beneath them.
"Oh baby you look like crap," Jacqui stated sympathetically.
"Thanks," Wendy replied, but attempted a small smile as she stood up on shaky legs.
Jacqui helped her out of the cubicle and washed her face gently with a hand towel, drying it with another before stepping back to check her over. With a nod of satisfaction she began to guide her out of the bathroom to take her to sit down and get her a glass of water.
"I know it feels like the end of the world now sweetie," she told her as they emerged, "but this time next month you'll be feeling great, believe me."
She looked at her curiously to see any clue in her face as to what she had decided to so about the 'problem', completely missing the look on Greg's face as they walked past him. Wendy uttered a small laugh.
"Yeah, feeling great and looking like a beached whale," she retorted, nevertheless feeling a little better now that she had thrown up again. She looked at Jacqui, not even noticing the CSI standing there by the wall. "I still don't know if I can keep it..." she admitted in a small voice. "But I don't think I can face getting rid of it either."
They walked on, and Greg stared after them for almost a full minute before haring off to the break room. Nick was in there, so was Warrick, Bobby and Hodges. Things were a little slow in the crime lab today.
"Hey guess what!" Greg exclaimed in a stage whisper, face flushed with excitement at the thought of having new gossip to impart.
"What?" Warrick replied half-heartedly, not even looking up from his newspaper.
Nick and Bobby both looked up expectantly, Hodges glanced up briefly before burying his head back in Popular Science. If it was Greg saying something than it probably wasn't as interesting as he thought it was. Greg took a deep breath as though about to deliver a very important speech, looked over his shoulder to make sure Wendy and Jacqui hadn't sneaked up on him whole he wasn't looking, and cleared his throat.
"Wendy's pregnant."
The bottom fell out of Hodges' world with those two little words, and he felt himself pale as he froze, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the writing which blurred beneath his gaze. He felt as though he had been kicked in the guts and buried alive all at once, there suddenly seemed to be not enough oxygen to breath. His hands started to shake, and in an effort to be inconspicuous he gripped the magazine tighter, only succeeding in ripping the page and digging his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood.
Breath, breath...
He risked a quick glance up, only to see Warrick, Bobby and Greg all looking at... Nick.
"What?" Stokes demanded, wide-eyed in disbelief as he looked from Rick to Greg and back again. "Don't look at me!"
Greg looked back at him innocently, raising both eyebrows into his hairline which was currently, Hodges noticed incongruously, very subtley streaked copper and blond. Warrick continued to study Nick with a narrow gaze, and Bobby shrugged.
"Well everyone knows she's got the hots for y'all," he stated matter-of-factly, and picked up his coffee mug, standing up to refill it.
"What?" Nick repeated, brown eyes registering shock. "Well I haven't been near her!"
Hodges felt a pang of pure unadulterated jealousy surge through him, and in that moment he could quite happily have picked up a knife and stuck Stokes through the gut with it. For the first time in his life he almost empathized with killers who murdered in a fit of rage.
"I didn't!" Nick was protesting when Greg continued to study him, arms folded, in silence. "I didn't even know she liked me! I haven't been near the woman!"
"Alright alright," Sanders eventually gave in, holding up his hands in a placatory manner. "Well anyway, she is. So c'mon, who's do you think it is?"
He looked around eagerly, not having truly believed for a minute that Stokes had anything to do with it. The Texan's preference was for leggy blondes.
"How d'y'all know she's in the club?" Bobby drawled. "She wouldn't tell ya."
Greg pouted at the gun expert for a second.
"She might do, me and Wendy, we're like that." He held up two fingers and crossed them smugly. Then he sighed. "Ok then, I heard her and Jacqui talking just now about morning sickness and getting fat and whether she was going to keep it."
Hodges felt sick, and briefly wondered if he was coming out in sympathy. Not keep it? His kid? He'd always wanted kids... his fingernails dug even deeper, and he struggled to stop his hands from shaking.
Warrick unfolded his lanky frame and stood up, putting his empty mug on the counter.
"Well, interesting as this conversation is, some of us have work to do," he said, walking out the door. "Besides, I don't think it's really any of our business."
That took the wind out of Greg's sails, but only for an instant, before he looked back into the room.
"What about you, Hodges?" he smirked, trying to jolt the man out of his bad mood. "You reckon the culprit's anyone from the lab?"
The trace tech threw him a look of pure evil and stood up, for the second time in Greg's company knocking his chair to the floor behind him. He seemed to be making a habit of that. Shaking with emotion he stalked round the table to face up to the taller man, fists clenched by his sides.
"Shut. The Hell. Up." He spoke slowly and concisely, his voice dangerously quiet, and Greg's eyes widened in surprise.
Hodges was that close to punching someone, Stokes or Sanders, even Bobby, he didn't care who, but he knew that to do that would be to kiss his job goodbye. He was already on his second warning for the incident with the baby oil and Grissom's lunch. So instead he gritted his teeth, raised his chin, and strode calmly out of the room. At least he looked calm, but inside he was shaking like a leaf and still having difficulty breathing. He had to find Wendy, he had to talk to her.
Greg stared after him incredulously for a moment, open-mouthed, before turning to see Bobby and Nick both doing the same.
"You don't think...?" he began, drifting into unbelieving silence as he jerked his thumb at the trace tech over his shoulder.
The other two men in the room shifted their gazes, first to each other, then to the lanky CSI, and shook their heads in utter amazement.
"Nah," all three men said in unison.