The room was stiflingly hot when he woke and groaned at the ray of sunshine falling right on his face, rousing him mercilessly with its brightness. They had forgotten the blinds last night, that much was obvious. He hated waking to the morning sun and not even Nick's breathing at his side did anything to placate the irritation. He had a dim recollection of dreaming about doing the nasty with Nick. Something about an elevator and Nick's face in the mirror as he pinned him to the wall, sensing his bud's entire body respond to him. His sounds as Warrick pushed into him, a deep throaty moan and then the blasted light that woken him up.
He rose to one elbow, looking down on the man with his butt placed firmly against his own morning erection and cursed. Nick slept on, drooling onto the pillow and totally unaware of what he did to him. When Warrick tried to move away Nick stirred and groaned. That alerted Warrick enough to forget about his current predicament.
Nick's brow was sweaty and Warrick wasn't sure if it was from the heat of the sun or from his nightly gymnastics, jarring his ribs and stitches. Glancing at the alarm, he had to blink twice; Nick should have had his pain meds an hour ago. He wondered why nobody had woken them up while he carefully scooted out of bed and reached for the meds. He measured up the 3 ml's and turned to the man still sleeping. Deciding not to wake him up, he administered the meds, keeping an eye on the reactions. In five minutes Nick's sleep was much calmer and his breathing slow and deep.
He sighed, wondering what the planned transit would do to Nick? Nick would whack him if he knew that Warrick in fact considered him fragile right now. He'd never tell Nick this to his face, but he was sure the man was able to read him plain as a book. That was bound to create tension and tension was the last thing Nick needed now. Maybe he'd be better off with Griss or Sara?
Watching the man, he pondered if he should stay back as Nick asked? Then Nick turned his head, sighing and his face looked goddamn angelic in the light; long dark lashes contrasting against the pale skin. That was it. Warrick had never considered himself sentimental or romantic, never considered himself soft in any way, but the picture of his bud did something to him, something he didn't even want to recognize.
"Fuck," he said and rose, realizing he was on the most dangerous of territories, the emotional one, and he was not an expert in navigating that mine field. His track record bore the evidence of that.
"He's your fucking best friend," he muttered to himself. "And you're not gonna jeopardize that with your fucking mothering tendencies." He just knew Nick would resent him for walking on eggshells around him; he'd already had enough of that from the rest of the team after the box incident. And Warrick knew that Nick was probably the strongest of them all, he'd seen it with his own eyes. Yet, the need to shelter him was taking over. And it would ruin everything if let loose, he knew Nick would rip him a new one if he had any idea. He wasn't dealing really well with this irrational protective stuff assaulting him on a regular basis when it came to Nick, it felt alien to his nature.
Still, he left the door ajar when he stepped out of the room, just in case Nick needed something.
He found them in the living room, totally engrossed in what was at hand. Greg with the laptop, pounding away on the keys, red rimmed eyes watching the screen. Grissom was talking quietly into his cell, face blank and tense.
He literally felt the tension in the room and the sandwich he had stolen out of the fridge suddenly felt tasteless and dry in his mouth.
Greg noted him first, watching the sandwich with big hungry eyes. "Jeez, I'm starved."
"You've been up all night?" Warrick asked, forcing down the chunk of food.
Grissom turned and shook his head. "Just since Nick's nightmare. Does he still have them often?"
"No," Warrick replied curtly.
"Like you would know," Greg remarked and Warrick sent him a stern look.
Grissom let his eyes wander between the two of them, watching them like they were his prodigies behaving badly. "Hodges just found out that the infamous Dr. Kendelton's research was pure fraud, paid by the industry. And his ex-wife was the head of the medical corporation that needed flunitrazepam approved by the FDA because she had convinced the board that it would boost their sales with up to 150. She was having the corporation finance Dr. Kendelton's research. When the fraud was detected, Kendelton turned to the FBI with evidence of the corporation's way of conducting business. The strange thing is that all this happened five years ago and nobody's been indicted? Kendelton's ex-wife simply got fired and vanished. A year later Rohypnol is flooding the market and is distributed like candy to small time criminals, tying them to the mob efficiently, like an army of psychopaths. And it all derives from right here; Las Vegas is the main port of distribution. I'm assuming we have a clandestine flunitrazepam factory in the neighborhood. And now Hodges got wind of the fact that Kendelton himself is offering his knowledge to the CIA, asking for protection in trade for testifying against a Las Vegas department of a federal organization. Maybe the rum in Havana isn't up to his expectations," Grissom ended his speech on a dry note.
"Huh?" Warrick had to sit down. "How big is this thing?"
"Welcome to Stokesgate," Greg moaned and rose. "I'll go put on some Blue Hawaiian, maybe that'll clear the picture. I can't believe Nick stumbled on something this big!"
"Who else, if not Nick?" Warrick grumbled.
"I've heard of bad karma, but this?" Greg shook his head as he wandered off.
"I have to agree. Nick just happened to stumble on to something major, no wonder we can't seem to get a hold on this case. These criminals are not your typical small-time players, this is a federal case." Grissom let his eyes rest on Warrick. "How is he doing?"
"Not good, I think he got worse by his thrashing around last night. I left him to sleep, didn't want to wake him just yet." Warrick met Grissom's gaze, "we need to move out soon, right?"
"I wish I knew where to go from here," Grissom replied. "All I can offer right now are assumptions of what's best for Nick but I don't really know."
"Nick's decided to go, says he won't stand for dragging anybody else into this. He won't be stopped now, not knowing what he knows about the case. Maybe we should have kept quiet and chalked it up to coincidences?" Warrick felt like groaning at the thought.
"Nicky's not stupid, he'd have figured out that we were keeping things from him and that is nothing I recommend," Grissom admitted. "Not when it comes to Nick."
"Experience, huh?"
Grissom nodded. "Nick has this odd way of seeing important details without even knowing it. He simply picks things up."
"Yeah," Warrick leaned back in his chair. "So this cabin, is it safe?"
Grissom regarded him pensively. "Warrick, at this point I just don't know what is safe any longer. But I'll do everything in my power to keep him safe while we wait this out up there."
"No you won't," Warrick leaned forward, fixating Grissom. "Because I will be going with him. And they'll have to come through me to get to him."
"Don't think they'll hesitate. It's Nick's choice; if he wants you up there I'm letting you go. If not, I am going."
The knot in Warrick's stomach suddenly tightened several notches. Suddenly that choice seemed more threatening than any psychotic mob.
"At least let me take him to his appointment; I know he can't lie but he does leave information out. I don't want Dr. Bloomfield making decisions based on Nick's bravery. He needs the facts."
"Knowing Nick, he'll deal with what is coming, in his own way and alone," Grissom smiled wryly.
A coin toss with close to fatal ramifications crossed Warrick's mind like a red hot knife of pure pain. The way Nick had tossed it back to him, saying it was bad luck. The same coin he had buried at the nursery when he revisited the place only some weeks after the ordeal. Buried it deep in the soil in some desperate guilt-reducing ritual; the coin that seemed to burn his fingers as he dropped it into the ground.
"Not this time," Warrick spoke decisively. "Not this fucking time."
"I'm coming in with you," Warrick tried as a nurse approached Nick. They had been sitting in the crowded waiting area for close to an hour after the blood work was done. Brass was already on his feet, ready to accompany Nick.
Nick looked genuinely surprised and grinned. "I don't think watch dogs are allowed. I am so ready to get rid of the two of you."
Brass laid a hand on Nick's shoulder. "I came to see nurse Nell, kiddo."
Nick rolled his eyes, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Warrick. "He blabbed about her too? I think he has the hots for nurses, gotta be the uniform."
"That's low, man," Warrick wheezed.
Nick looked chastised. "Sorry, boss. Didn't mean to, uh, shit man."
"Repent, dude. I'm coming inside just for that." Warrick tried to sneak in through the door but was stopped by a firm hand on his chest.
"I gave you power of attorney, Rick, that don't make you my Mom."
Warrick was left staring at the closed door.
"Well you tried, 'Mom'. But you know when they grow up, they get feisty and mean." Brass grinned. "I could'a told you to let it go, the kid is tough."
"I've dealt with foolish toughness all my life, Brass. I know where it can lead." Warrick shook his head. "Nothing I'd recommend."
"It'll never be over for you, will it?" Brass asked." If you don't let all that guilt go, it'll start growing and eat you alive."
Warrick smiled, "You think it's guilt? And you call yourself a detective?" Then he turned and walked away from the door, wanting to kick himself for letting his tongue run amok again. He sank down onto a chair, those same ones he was starting to feel nauseated about.
Brass sat down in the opposite chair, leaning his elbows on his knees and taking on the investigative look. "You missed your psych consult."
"You really think I'm the one in need?" Warrick retaliated. "That man in there can barely get up from a chair by himself and he's ready to move into the wilderness."
"That man in there, and I emphasize man, survived 24 hours under ground without a major flip out. He survived a bullet to his chest that almost ripped his guts out and he's still not babbling, tied up with a straight jacket. I'd say he's doing better than you right now. Don't sell him short."
"That's not what I am doing," Warrick replied, pinning Brass to his seat with a steady glance. "I'm seeing to it that this time he's not alone when he meets the ghosts."
"His ghosts or yours?"
"This might seem out of the left field for you Jim, but sometimes I do actually care for others."
Brass grinned. "You've always cared for Nicky, Rick. Just don't make that care into something it isn't. Don't even fool yourself that you're the stronger one in the relationship. It scared you shitless before and got you a McFast marriage. What will it do to you this time?"
Warrick had to look away, cursing himself for letting his perfected bad ass attitude drop for a fraction of a second before the gathered himself. Jim Brass was right of course, but Warrick would not admit to that, ever. Instead he rose and walked over to the vending machine, not wanting to let Brass see how fucking close his words had hit home.
"You two love birds set to go?" Nick asked, interrupting their contemplative mood whilst pouring down the venom served from vending machines. Warrick was through his third and Brass was not far behind. The coffee was as bad as the chairs in this place and Warrick was sure it was intentional because he could literally feel the caffeine grating at his nerves.
"So what is all this, man?" Warrick had snatched the stack of papers out of Nick's hand, going through the meds one by one while following a step behind the two men navigating through the milling in the corridor. "Anti-histamines, epi-pens, two sets of antibiotics, Dilaudid for intravenous and intramuscular use and Vicodin? Muscle relaxants and, what's this, iron and D vitamins? You've got prescriptions for an entire pharmacy here, bro. Lemme guess, Doc's not too thrilled with you leaving town? IV-cannula still in? Let me rephrase, he forbid you to leave town, didn't he?"
"Only thing he was worried about was the increased watch dog anti-bodies in my bloodstream," Nick replied calmly and Brass stifled a snort of laughter.
Warrick shot him his best death glare but stayed quiet while trudging behind them to the car. Brass was walking close to Nick, ready to grip the man in case he stumbled. Nick was still walking slightly bent forward, his pace slowing as they walked on. But he never stopped once, until they reached the SUV and he grinned victoriously, slightly short of breath, at Warrick.
Warrick hoped nobody noticed how he kept glancing over his shoulder.
The drive seemed endless. Warrick looked at his watch and realized they had been on the road for close to 4 hours already and nothing but sand extended around them in the dark. Dune after dune in the moonlight, occasional cliffs sticking out and making it look like a moon landscape. A couple of miles ahead there seemed to be a mountain of sorts; it stood up majestically in the moonlight. The road was nothing more than a dirt road full with potholes and despite Grissom's careful driving they'd occasionally bumped into a hole, which sent Nick's breath hitching. He'd slept for most of the trip but the road's condition worsening had obviously woken him up, according to the groan from the backseat.
Warrick turned to check on him. "How you doin' there bud?"
"Fine. How far still?"
"Don't know, wanna take a break?"
"Nah, but this tucking me in the back's just not fair, could'a taken my car and let me drive. Your backseat is lumpy by the way, this some kind of retaliation for something?"
"Stop whining, Nicky," Warrick grinned, relieved that he was still cracking bad jokes. "Need a booster?"
"Nope, need to know when we'll arrive."
"In about thirty minutes, Nicky," Grissom threw a glance in the rear-view mirror. "Just hold on."
"Right there?" Warrick asked, pointing to the mass of a mountain rising before them. "Is this place even on the map?"
"Not all maps," Grissom smiled. "It's old military territory and the general had clout enough to keep his bunker very private."
"Bunker?" Nick groaned. "Oh, this is getting better and better."
Warrick turned to the back seat, grinning, "Suddenly wish you'd stayed with nurse Nell, huh?" With a glance over at Grissom at the wheel, he continued. "I think our boy is feeling better, he's whining."
Grissom shot the rear-view mirror another glance and smiled before he turned to the left and started a slow climb up a slope towards the mountain peak. Warrick relaxed, realizing they must be close and concentrated on taking in the surroundings. The road soon disappeared into high grass, revealing increased moisture. Grissom slowed down considerably when the first trees appeared, wide and lush they flanked the road, obscuring the moonlight occasionally. Brass and Greg crept up closer, keeping them close in sight on the winding road. Ten minutes later, the forest was thick and completely dark, the moon was invisible from under the crowns of the Douglas firs and trees Warrick wasn't even able to recognize. He really was a city slicker, after all.
Nick heaved himself up into a sitting position just as Grissom pulled up. "Uh, Griss," he cleared his voice and pointed to a dark shadow. "I hate to tell you this, but someone's already here."
Brass pulled up and let the cars headlights illuminate the car and its driver standing outside, leaning onto it. He raised a hand in salute.
"Yes, that would be my friend Dr. Frank Gladstone. He'll be your only contact with the outer world except me. Oh, and before I forget," he dug in his pocket, coming up with a cell phone. "This one's got all the numbers you need, use it. Avoid using your own just in case someone is tracking them. You have them switched off, right?"
Brass and Greg were already out of their SUV, approaching the man and shaking his hand. Grissom stuck his head out the window as a smiling man appeared.
"A beard, Gil Grissom?"
"Not looking any younger, huh?" The two shook hands, and Warrick thought that the open joviality on Frank Gladstone's face, illuminated by the headlights, was a sharp contrast to Gil's usually guarded features.
Nick was already on his way out, groaning with pleasure as he hung onto the car and straightened himself out. Warrick jumped out and kept an eye on him.
"These the refugees?" Frank asked and walked up to them, extending his hand. Warrick gripped it and was relieved by the steady shake. "I'm Warrick, Nick's watch dog."
Nick hissed something and Frank grinned, extending his hand to Nick. "So you're the one Gil's searched heaven and earth to hide out. I really don't know half of why but I can assure you that if you don't want to be found out here, nobody will find you. Follow me, you can't see the cabin from here."
Warrick gripped Nick's arm despite protests and followed, they reached a natural gate in the mountain, approximately 2,4 and maybe 4 or 5 ft narrow. It was closed off by a metal bars thick enough to hold a truck outside. The iron fence shrieked when opened. "It's closed with a normal key, but with all the sounds this gate makes -," he shrugged and smiled. They rounded the protruding mountainside and stepped into moonlight. There, in a natural hollow of the mountain, lay a wooden cabin, surrounded by a large porch.
"Guys," Greg piped in. "This is what I call romantic."
"My uncle was stock crazy," Frank admitted "And so was I when I thought up to renovate it and spend my vacations here. Wife stayed a week and swore never to set foot here again. Try keeping an eye on two toddlers with this." He pointed to the deep ravine that surrounded the yard around the house, the only shield a low fence built by stones and covered with moss.
"Guess I wasn't thinking straight," he continued. "But now it has all the commodities and I still can't sublet it to anybody but some occasional ornithology-freak."
Greg coughed.
Unfazed, Frank continued up the path and Warrick slipped his arm around Nick's waist as they took the stairs, this time his man didn't protest. Opening the door, they were flooded with light.
"Blinds," Frank explained the lack of light showing outside. "Told you my uncle was beyond paranoid, the Germans were everywhere, wanting his scalp or something. You should take a seat," he nodded to Nick, still being held up by Warrick's arm. "I'll show you friends around and then we'll better leave before daylight. I have some food in the oven and coffee on the stove. The generator will run up to three months with the gas I've put in the tank. The water is from the main line leading to the city so I can guarantee you no one's is going to tamper with that un-noticed. We have two bedrooms, a bathroom and this combined kitchenette-diner and that's about it. Well, if you don't count the panic room underneath but I'm hoping we won't come to that."
"Well," Brass leered. "It really is cozy and romantic."
Warrick was lowering Nick onto the sofa and had no time to send a death glare as Nick moaned and his hands gripped the fabric hard.
"I'll be seeing to Nick now," Frank said. "If you gentlemen would step out for a moment?"
With a glance over at Nick, who nodded tiredly, Warrick followed the rest, sinking down to sit on the porch and looking out over their refuge. He heard the calls of different birds, wind rustling the leaves and crickets chirping loudly.
"Warrick goes hillbilly," Greg let out. "Who'da thunken?"
This time his death glare worked but did really not do any good in the darkness.
He followed them out to the gate after getting his instructions about Nick from Frank. It was absolute bed rest for at least a day after the trip. He'd given him a booster and if things went right, he'd swing by in two days and remove the IV-cannula. Until then he was to have his medication through it, diminishing the dose with 0.5 ml after the two days of rest, if Nick's pain allowed it, and to call if anything happened.
Warrick locked the gate behind the men and let the flashlight play over the path he was wandering. He felt his skin prickle from the absolute silence when the cars had taken off, his vehicle still behind some trees with Grissom's impromptu road map tucked under the passenger seat. Now it was him, Nick and the wild nature. Boyscout Nick would probably not have a problem but Warrick Brown was like a fish out of water.
He opened the door and toed his shoes off., padding over to the pot containing coffee.
"Suddenly wish you'd stayed back in civilization, huh?"
He jumped from the voice emanating from deep in the sofa. "Hell Nicky, I thought you were asleep already."
"Nah," Nick said. "Was waiting for you to get me up from here. Hated to tell Frank but this thing has a spring poking right into my ass and frankly, it's no picnic."
Warrick walked over, peering down at the man trapped by the sofa.
"It's too darn soft, can't get up," he complained.
Warrick had to laugh and extend his hand so Nick could grip it and slowly hoist himself up from his inert position. Nick groaned as his feet touched the pavement.
"So there will be no frolicking on the cushions then?"
"I prefer the bed," Nick beamed up at him, despite the sweat running down his temples and his breathing labored from the simple movement alone.
"C'mon man," Warrick crooned, bending down to get his man on his feet. "And for your information, nurse Nell would not have the brawn to do this."
"Would you forget nurse Nell already?" Nick whined, leaning heavily on Warrick while they walked to the bedroom.
Warrick simply held on, arm around his buddy's waist, feeling every labored breath Nick took. And he was grateful that his bud still was around to heckle him.