Nick was trying very hard not to fall asleep again. The last thing he wanted right now was to sleep and have another dream about Jack. He wouldn't be able to help it if he fell asleep, but thought he could stop himself from sleeping. The dreams were supposed to help him, but they were only making him frustrated and scared. It freaked him out that he could see and talk to Jack in a way that seemed so real, but he knew both in his dreams and in reality that it wasn't real. It was his mind trying to make sense of everything in his head at the time. When he was asleep, he was totally relaxed and his mind could show him the things he needed to see. The easiest way for him to understand it was for Jack to say it to him, so that's what was hapenning. The biggest problem was that Jack was acting in Nick's dreams as he would in real life, where he wouldn't come right out and say what Nick wanted to hear. He made him think about it and wouldn't just tell him the answer. Jack had been doing that for as long as Nick could remember, and probably wouldn't stop anytime soon.
Nick wasn't sure how long it had been since he had talked to Warrick. He didn't know how long after that he had fallen sleep. He didn't know how long he had been asleep for, or how long it had been since he had woken up from his latest dream. He didn't know anything for sure except that he was exhausted and was suspected of killing Jack Miller, which of course was not true. Nick didn't even care about proving that he didn't do it at the moment. He didn't care how long it took, but he was going to make all of this right. He knew what he had to do, he just didn't know how to do it yet.
The Texan sighed heavily and reluctantly laid back down on the uncomfortable mattress. He tried to keep his eyes open, but he just couldn't. He allowed them to slowly close and began to lose control of his body slipping into sleep. He didn't want to, but at this point he knew that he was going to have to a do a lot of things he wasn't going to want to do.
Nick didn't know why this time was any different than the others, but it was. As soon as he saw Jack sitting in the recliner in the corner of his living room, the younger man swore he could feel his heart breaking. He had never thought about it in the way he was now, and suddenly Jack's death seemed like it was all his fault. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but to Nick, it felt like it.
Jack was smiling at him, but Nick couldn't return the gesture. He stood in front of him, just like he had that night he had found him, glued to the spot, unable to move or speak. He stood there for a long time, or so it seemed, before he finally found his voice.
"I'm sorry," Nick said the words he knew he should have said when Jack was still alive.
"For what?" Jack asked.
"Everything," Nick replied. "Getting involved, making everything worse...getting you killed."
"This wasn't your fault," Jack said, "and I know you know that. It was bound to happen to me sooner or later. James needed me out of the way, I was of no more use to him and he knew it. I wouldn't give him what he wanted."
"The disk," Nick thought out loud.
Jack nodded. "He doesn't know you have it either. I wouldn't tell him where it is."
"That's why he killed you," Nick said, and Jack just kept smiling. "So how is it not my fault?"
"Everyone has the exact life that they want," Jack said, not answering Nick's question. "I wanted to be a powerful man, and I was. I wanted to get out, so I did, to a point anyway. I was still involved, but not as much as I had been."
"How is it not my fault?" Nick asked again, tears forming in his eyes and a lump blocking his throat.
"James wanted to be better than me, so he was. Mikey wanted to be like him, so he was too. I wanted to keep you out of it, so I did. You wanted to get in and free yourself of the guilt your family put upon you, so you did. And I let you."
"How is it not my fault?" Nick wanted to yell, but it came out barely above a whisper.
"I knew you felt guilty for everything," Jack said, ignoring Nick's constant question. "And I wanted you to be able to get rid of that guilt, but I never wanted you to be in any danger. All I wanted was for you to be happy and not blame yourself for anything. I wanted to save you from yourself."
Nick was beginning to think Jack couldn't hear him, or just didn't want to. "How is it not my fault?" Nick asked again, needing an answer before he convinced himself it really was his fault.
"Are you looking for someone else to blame?" Jack asked, his first acknowledgement of Nick's question. "Did you blame me all along?"
Nick shook his head. "For what?"
"I've never seen you this scared before," Jack said.
Nick wished Jack would just answer one of his questions. "I'm terrified."
"You're scared you're the only one that can fix this," Jack said. Nick knew he was right, so he didn't say anything. "You are the ony one that can fix this. There. Now there's nothing to be scared of. The hardest part of this isn't finding who you need to be, it's being who you are. So stay who you are."
"Why don't you ever run out of things to say?"
"There's nothing that I couldn't say. I've said it all before, and you've heard it all before," Jack said as he sat forward. Nick felt the tears fall from his eyes as Jack put his hands on his shoulders. "Don't give in. You can't give up. If you stop gambling, you'll never have to lose. But if you don't play, you can never win Nicky."
Nick eyes snapped open. He tried to take a deep breath, but the lump in his throat prevented him from doing so. He sat up slowly and ran his hands over his face. Upon doing so, his palms were met with the feeling of the warm tears on his cheeks. He slowly brushed them away, surprised that they were actually there. Everything about his dream had been so real, and he had even cried.
He sighed heavily and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was thinking about maybe standing up and stretching, but decided against it. He just sat there for a minute, but before he could even start to get his thoughts together, he heard keys jingling.
Nick looked to his right and saw the guard that was on duty at the moment looking for the right key to open his cell door with. Standing next to him was James Sparazza, a look of mixed emotions on his face. Nick stood without thinking and walked through the open door when the guard motioned for him to do so.
"You've been bailed out," the guard said. "You're free to go until the DA refiles and sets you with no bail. I wouldn't go too far if I were you."
Nick nodded weakly as the guard walked away. James looked at Nick with a small smile starting to spread across his lips. Nick stood there as still as possible and tried not to picture the man standing in front of him shooting Jack. As hard as he tried though, Nick couldn't keep the image out of his mind. He pretended it wasn't there and offered a small smile back in return, which luckily fooled James.
"They treat you okay?" James asked as him and Nick started walking out of the holding cells and down the halls of the LVPD.
"Better than they would have treated the President," Nick said. "Why did you bail me out?" he couldn't help but ask.
James was surprised at that question. "Did you think I was going to let my innocent son stay in jail until they realized they made a mistake?"
In saying that, Nick got the confirmation he needed that James knew who killed Jack, or did it himself. It was most likely the latter of the two.
"How do you know I'm innocent?" Nick asked, unable to stop himself from calling James out on his mistake.
James was quick to reply, however. "Of course you are. You're not the kind of guy that would kill people Nick, especially Jack. I know you better than that."
No you don't, Nick thought and wanted to say, but thought better of it. Instead, he shut his mouth for once and walked with James out of the police station. Everyone they walked by was staring at them, but James paid them no mind. Nick did though. He looked back at all of them, half of whom he didn't even know. The ones he did know though were shaking their heads slightly at him, obviously in disappointed.
But Nick didn't care what they thought. He'd been an alleged murderer before, and that eventually subsided. Even though this time was worse and he had more against him than being a killer, he didn't care. He knew he didn't do it and his team was going to prove it. He had more important stuff to worry about, like not getting himself killed by the man walking next to him.
As they were nearing the exit, Nick turned his head and saw his team standing in Brass' office, all of them deep in discussion. He knew they were talking about him; everyone was talking about him. But Nick knew his team was trying to help him in anyway they could, which unfortunately wasn't much.
Brass saw Nick first and stopped whatever he was saying and looked at the younger man. Everyone else in the office followed suit; Grissom, Warrick, Catherine, and Greg all stopped whatever they were doing or saying and looked through the glass at their colleague and friend. They all looked worried and scared, and Nick was willing to bet that he looked scared too. Everyone except Brass seemed surprised that Nick was walking out right now with James, but they were almost glad at the same time. They were nervous that he was going to be with James, but glad he was out of jail. For the time being.
They all looked at Nick, unsure of what to do. They were scared, and he was scared too. But despite that fear, Nick had a feeling that everything was going to work out. As he began to turn the corner to leave, he craned his neck and looked over his shoulder at his friends for as long as he could. He smiled, a true smile, and they all knew it and saw it. Small smiles began to spread to their faces as Nick moved out of sight, and they began to think that everything would turn out okay.
Nick sat at the same table he had sat at that night Jack had given him the zip disk, which was still in his jean's pocket. He ignored the urge to reach in and grab it though, for fear that someone would become suspicious and find out that he had it. That would put an end to his plan of fixing everything really quick.
James was upstairs, assuring clients that everything was okay and business would go on as usual. They were all a little skeptical about Nick know because he was supposedly a murderer. Nick had already done his job though, so they wouldn't be dealing with him anymore anyway. The computer chips didn't matter to Nick anymore. He knew they were a cover for something bigger, and he was going to find out what that something was.
Mike was sitting across from his younger brother, but neither one of them were speaking or looking at one another. Mike didn't know what to say, and Nick didn't want to say anything at first. But the longer they sat there, the bigger the urge to fill the silence became until Nick just had to say something.
"I didn't kill Jack," Nick said quietly.
Mike nodded. "I know."
Nick frowned slightly. "You do?"
Mike nodded again. "It makes no sense, you killing him. You want out, and he wanted you out. Besides, I can't see you killing anyone."
"That's what he said," Nick said, motioning to the floor above them where James was with his head. "I just went to his house and he was...dead."
"I'm sorry you had to be the one to find him Nicky," Mike said.
"Did you know it was gonna happen?" Nick asked.
"No," Mike answered honestly. "I would have told you and tried to stop it. I don't know why it happened. Nothing's making sense anymore. Dad's using his new guys he hasn't used much more now and the usuals are getting suspicious."
"Of what?" Nick asked.
"I'm not sure. Dad's just been acting weird. He's been really quiet, and when he does talk it's always about you and how good you are at this and how you've been running everything lately."
At that moment, Nick felt everything fall into place. He knew what James was planning to do. The computer chips and everything leading up to them were all a set-up. None of it had been real. Nick was putting it all together in his head, but before he could make it all make sense, he heard footsteps running down the stairs to where him and Mike were.
Nick was going to have to put it together later.