Just to make it very, very clear - I do not own the rights to anything CSI - no characters, no existing story lines, nothing. Some of this story has been taken directly from Grave Danger - so all credit for these parts to Quentin Tarentino and CSI script writers - definitely not me. So please, don't sue me. I'm already poverty stricken! Absolutely clear? CSI - not mine.

CHAPTER 14

Grissom pulled into Nicks driveway and was surprised when he came out of his house and locked the door before Grissom had even cut the engine. It was clear in Nicks body language and tense demeanour that he just wanted to go and get the visit over with. He sat heavily in the passenger seat and flicked a quick glance at Grissom as he fastened his seat belt.
"Thanks again for doin' this, Gris."
Grissom looked at him, taking in his tired eyes and noting the slight tremor in his hands, which had reappeared during the morning as he had waited for Grissom to arrive. Despite being acutely aware of being scrutinised, Nick steadfastly refused to meet his mentors gaze and instead concentrated on taking deep breaths and calming himself as much as possible to prepare for what was ahead.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Grissom quietly.
Nick groaned softly and held his hands tightly together in order to at least try to minimise the shakes.
"Yes." he answered.
Grissom kept an eye on him a moment longer before restarting the engine and muttering "OK, let's get going, then." and reversing out of the drive.
It was a very quiet trip.
Nick was deep in thought the entire drive and Grissom respected his need for silence.
Every now and then Grissom would cast a glance in his direction - Nick sat staring pensively out of the passenger side window.
Finally, they arrived at the Women's State Penitentiary and Grissom pulled into a parking spot. He cut the engine and waited for Nick to move. It took several long moments but, eventually, Nick roused himself, scrubbed his hands across his face and grabbed his jacket from the back seat. He wrung it between his hands before reaching for the handle and opening the door. He paused a second more and Grissom could almost see the internal struggle going on inside.
"Do you want me to come in with you?" asked Grissom quietly.
Nick shook his head and pushed to his feet.
"No, it's OK. I'll be OK."
His accent was very strong. It was always a good barometer of how stressed he was.
Grissom gave a gentle smile.
"I'll wait out here then." said Grissom as Nick nodded in reply. He watched as the younger man closed the door and headed towards the prisons entrance. He thought about the old Nick, the Nick who had always worn his emotions on his sleeve. The Nick who had exuded the confidence of an ex-star college footballer while maintaining the vulnerability and sensitivity of his childhood. Grissom suddenly questioned whether he had made a mistake in supporting Nicks decision to go to the prison. The new Nick was even more vulnerable now - even more sensitive to pain - and the once ever-present confidence had been missing ever since they had found him, frightened and near-death, in that damned coffin.
Grissom was out of the vehicle before his brain caught up with him.
Nick had made the decision himself. He had had plenty of time laying in the hospital bed to think about it and had made the choice himself. He was in sound mind and had stood by his decision and defended it against a barrage of criticism. Maybe, thought Grissom, the confidence hadn't disappeared altogether. Maybe it was still there - albeit buried deep.
"Nick." he called out. Nick was nearly at the entrance but heard him and turned around, raising his eyebrows in question - but too far away for Grissom to see.
"Remember," he continued, "Don't take it with you, OK?"
Nick smiled and nodded slightly.
"Thanks, Gris." he called back and turned to head into the prison.
Grissom watched him go, sighed deeply and went to sit and wait back in the SUV.

Nick registered at the front entrance, hands shaking so much his signature looked foreign even to him, then followed the warden into the visitors centre - taking the seat behind the glass assigned to him. He could feel the knots in his stomach tighten and squirm even more as he waited. His palms started to sweat and he grabbed his jeans, partly to dry his hands but mostly to try and control the tremors.
Suddenly, there she was.
The woman who was involuntarily responsible for all of the fear and pain and angst of the last month. The woman who had been a victim of unfortunate circumstances - who had ultimately caused Nick to become a victim of unfortunate circumstances as well.
Nick felt his pulse rate increase at the sight of her and felt tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He took a deep breath - determined to keep his emotion at bay and raised a hand in a wave - indicating to Kelly to pick up the phone so they could talk. Reluctantly, and oozing attitude, Kelly picked up the receiver.
"You the one?" she asked matter-of-factly.
Nick couldn't stop the choked laugh that escaped him. It hadn't been what he had expected but it certainly broke the ice.
"Yeah," he replied, "Yeah, back at ya."
Kelly continued to watch Nick - not sure why he had come - as she asked, "What do you want me to say? I'm sorry?"
"Nah," said Nick, "You didn't do anything to me. And what you're Dad did...I guess its 'cos he loves you so much."
Kelly had suddenly had enough. She had arrived expecting a guilt trip, an apology for the actions of her father and she had already planned her response - she wasn't going to take responsibility for what he had done. But when this stranger arrived and started talking about how much her father had loved her - how he had tortured and nearly killed him out of 'love' for her - she could stand it no longer. She hung up the phone in disgust. At the comment. At her father.
"Hey, Kelly. Kelly!"
Nick hadn't told her what he had came here to say yet.
"Pick it up."
The emotion in his voice was like a hook and Kelly found herself meeting his eyes. Shit. Tears. She couldn't handle guys with tears.
Despite her better judgement, she picked up the phone again.
Nick tried to keep it together - at least until he had said what he needed to say.
He tried again.
"In a few years....when you get out of here........don't take it with you." A single tear made its way down his right cheek - almost an unconscious emphasis on his words. The two sat staring at each other between the glass partition. Strangers united through fate.
Kelly was the first to break the moment.
"That's it?" she asked, trying to sound aloof and failing.
Nick sighed.
"Yeah, yeah. That's it."
Kelly hung up the phone and glanced at Nick one last time.
"We're done." she called out to the guard, pushing herself out of the chair and walking away.
Nick sighed deeply again, a weight had suddenly been lifted off his shoulders despite the frustration of Kelly's brush off.
He gave a slight chuckle and raised his eyebrows as he repeated Kelly's parting words to him.
"That's it."
It seemed so easy. That was it. Everything he had been through was over. That was that. Life goes on.
Somehow, Nick suspected it wasn't going to be as easy as that. His journey would continue for many years to come.
He wiped a hand across his nose and whispered to himself once more "That's it." - a reinforcement to himself.
Pushing himself out of the chair, he headed to the exit.

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