Ashes And Wine (Twelve)
Title: Ashes And Wine (Twelve)
Author: Nat
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,107
Pairing: Gil/Nick, +Lady Heather
Characters: Gil Grissom, Nick Stokes, (Lady) Heather Kessler and occasional cameos by other cast members.
Warnings: Adults only, please. Character death.
Spoilers: N/A
Disclaimer: You know the "I don't own these two" drill, so I won't bore you.
Unbeta-ed: I'm too busy to spell check. I do my best.
Summary: Part Two Of A Series. Follows Love The Way You Lie (which I strongly suggest reading first. This might be a fun read solo, but will make much more sense as a second part.) Following the confusion and angst incurred by all in the First Part of this Series, Gil tries to figure out the best way to dig he and Nick out from under the unusual mess he has created...before it's too late.
A/N 1: Thanks to dear_supervisor for some suggestions AND sobran for the faboo icon.
A/N 2: Ok, Ok. Going to finish this story out. I felt too bad taking a total hiatus from it. Hope it's worth it!
Not since I had had my hearing restored had I ever felt like I was losing it again. Until the night we found Nick. After days of being lost in the footage of him trapped under ground that was streaming across my computer screen, the news that he had been found was surreal to say the least. I was moving aimlessly through the lab on weak legs that were unsupported by any sleep or any food - I had found myself to partake in either since Nick had been taken. I had also found myself afraid to even touch the computer screen that contained his image. As if somehow that would incriminate me as well.
When I finally made it to the lot where Nick had been buried was the first time I noticed it. I couldn’t hear. Anything. I looked around for a moment. Catherine, Warrick, sirens, Greg, shovels, dirt flying. I couldn’t hear any of it. I moved closer to the place where they were digging and felt acutely impotent. I lacked the strength that Warrick had to dig. I lacked the composure that Catherine had to wait for phone calls. All I could do was sit back and watch, and wait, in the stone cold silence and terror as I waited for them to shout that Nick was ok - hoping that would be the next thing I would hear. Someone…please…tell me Nick is ok.
Telling Catherine my history with Nick was like having an orgasm. That’s the only way I can think to describe it. Maybe it was the underlying stress of what may or may not be going on in the operating room, but sitting down with Catherine was like opening a floodgate. And I was powerless to stop it. It wasn’t long before the two of us were sitting alone in Heather’s hospital room, the door thankfully closed, and me weeping unashamedly…not even taking the time or energy to cover my face. And I told Catherine everything. If I had had more of my wits about me I might have been taken aback by the look of sheer confusion and concern that covered her face - her eyes wide, her mouth open occasionally whispering an ‘oh God, Gil’ or ‘Nicky’ - but I just continued to spill out years of history to her that I can only imagine was more than she could have ever imagined I would say to her. And I told her everything.
I told her about Denver. I told her about Heather. I told her about Sara. And I didn’t stop there. I told her things I hadn’t yet been able to admit to anyone, including Nick. Including myself. I told her about my fears. How I couldn’t lose Nick. How I hated myself for doing what I had done to him, and I was sure that a part of him would never forgive me. How I had pushed him to do what he had done. I was grateful, in a way, that we were interrupted before I launched into a full-fledged nervous breakdown. But that was before I knew why we were interrupted.
“Mr. Grissom. We need you. Right now.”
Both Catherine and I jolted at the interruption, and the same nurse that had come for Nick earlier stood in the doorway with a much more serious expression. And the front of her scrubs were covered in blood. I hardly remember standing up from the chair where I had been, but I think Catherine must have helped me. And my hearing was gone again. There were no footsteps in the hall. And as I turned and followed the nurse down the hall, I saw Nick. But I couldn’t hear him. Two nurses, one male, were pushing him against the wall, keeping him from reentering the operating room. And he was covered in blood. More blood than he should have been covered in - his hands, his scrubs. I moved towards him but the nurse that had called for me was pushing me into the operating room. Nick’s eyes met mine for only a moment, and we both seemed to be lost in the confusion of what was happening. I was only glad that he didn’t try to call for me…because all I could hear was ringing. But I watched him long enough to see Catherine run to him, and once more I was slightly relieved that I had been as open with Catherine as I had been. She could be there for Nick.
The nurse was speaking to me, but I didn’t know how to tell her I wasn’t hearing a word she said. I had turned to look into the room and saw Heather, half covered by the operating sheet that hung just below her chest, separating the room into two. And it didn’t take long for the nurse to leave my side and hurry to the other side - where she was joined by a team of people who seemed to be moving faster than I had ever seen people move in a hospital. I was lost in watching them for a moment before I moved slowly towards Heather. A nurse was tipping something into her IV and adjusting the oxygen mask that was covering Heather’s nose and mouth. She turned her head slowly, painfully towards me and I saw a tear leak from the corner of her eye and roll over her cheek.
I moved towards her and took her hand, which had been strapped into place along side the operating table. My ears were still ringing, and I tried desperately to make sense of what was going on in the room before I found myself able to look back down at Heather. She squeezed my hand and started to writhe her head as if she wanted to speak. I raised a shaky group of fingers and pulled ithe mask slightly, leaving her nose covered.
“We knew…this was a possibility…” her voice was broken and weak, I had never in all my years of knowing her felt afraid by a lack of strength in her. And I struggled to make out her words even as my chest felt ripped apart by them. The tears were coming more steadily out of her eyes, rolling into the pool of hair behind her head.
“You’re strong. You can make it through this.” I tried to find something to say to her, still unaware of what “this” even was. I heard the doctors coming through the sheets for the first time. Calling for more blood, reporting that she was hemmoraging. Heather’s gaze was becoming less focused and the emptiness coming over her eyes terrified me. I imagined in that moment that it was that terror that pushed Nick over the edge. The reason I was here with her and not him.
“I want you…to promise me…” Heather’s voice was distant and I leaned into her to make out her words as she stared at me.
“What is it, Heather….I’m here…”
“Promise me…that you’ll take care of him.”
“The baby will be fine Heather…” I looked around the room for some sign that I wasn’t lying to her, but I couldn’t hear much else than Heather’s life - her voice, her breath. She squeezed my hand and groaned. I looked back towards her as she writhed against her restraints, crying out in pain but only as gently as her frailty would allow her. She settled and looked back at me.
“I’m not talking….about the…baby.”
Her eyes welled again. And I realized the gravity of what she was saying. I had seen this before. In victims. Strangers. It was a lot more palpable coming from a woman I knew, that I had loved, that I had trusted and even married. I felt sick, and the lump in my throat kept me from saying anything as I watched a tear fall from my face onto hers.
“Nick….Nick will take care of….Finn…” she whispered, hardly audibly.
“And I’ll take care of Nick.” I whispered, hardly able to find my own voice.
Heather’s eyes looked forward, losing contact with mine, and she inhaled sharply. The nurse instructed me to replace her mask and I did so. I squeezed Heather’s hand and held it tightly. She whispered something. Softly and lowly…but not to me. Zoe. Zoe she said…calmly. And I squeezed her hand as she exhaled again. I waited to hear the next inhale.
I never did.
What I heard were the piercing cries of a newborn pounding through the sheet that separated us. So forceful I swore it the vibrations were making the sheet sway. I looked down at Heather. She was gone, and she was surrounded by the cries of a baby she would never meet. I stood back from her as I watched her vitals. The doctor proclaimed a time of death that matched the same time of birth he had just recorded. I felt queasy. A nurse standing by me must have sensed it as she eased me onto a stool. The room moved in a flurry as Heather’s body was detached from her IV and her oxygen. And soon enough, the sheet was removed as well. I caught a glimpse of two nurses diligently working to clean and swaddle Finn, who continued to scream and cry in the only sounds that I could hear. One of them asked me if I would like to hold him and I wasn’t sure what the correct response was. I stuttered a bit and in my hesitance one of them had dropped his tiny body into my arms.
He cried, like he was crying for the both of us. And I watched him in my arms, swallowed by blue blanket, an unusually large amount of dark hair covering his perfectly shaped head. He was Nick. And he was a reminder of what was waiting for us in the hall outside. I asked the nurse if I could carry the baby into the hallway. Or at least I gestured to her that that was my intent. I made sure I had my feet underneath me as I stood, unable to stop staring at the baby in my arms. I used my feet to kick to the door open and looked down the hall, through the glass in the still closed double doors that still protected us.
I saw Nick and Catherine walking the halls. Their backs to us. Catherine was holding onto Nick like she was holding him up. I pushed my way into the doorway before a nurse told me I couldn’t go any further with the baby. And that noise was enough to alert Nick and Catherine. They turned to face us in unison, and it was Catherine who smiled and cocked her head first, guiding Nick to turn and face me as she walked down the hall. But Nick had seen more than Catherine. And Nick was reading my face better than she was. She was lost in the bundle in my arms. But Nick was still focused on who wasn’t there, and not who was. Catherine stopped halfway between Nick and I before the smile left her face.
“Gil?”
I was locked on Nick even as Catherine spoke. There was an unimaginable silence.
“Nick. I’m sorry.”
I watched the color drain from Nick’s face and I felt weak again. The nurse grabbed me from behind. And Catherine rushed to me. She whispered something I couldn’t hear….I wasn’t sure if it was meant for the baby or for me. But in a rush of action, Catherine had taken Finn into her arms, and when I looked down at her face - it was wet with tears that streamed over the smiling corners of her mouth. There was a natural instinct in Catherine that reminded me I had been right to include her. She took the baby and eased into the doors alongside the nurse. I stood in the door and watched Nick, who hadn’t moved. He reached up and pulled the scrub cap off of his hair before lowering his head. He stumbled slightly in his steps before he leaned against the wall and let his body slump down against it. I felt powerless to help him. Unable to find the right words. I felt a hand on my back. It was Catherine.
“Go, Gil. I’ve got the baby. Go.”
She whispered against my back.
I took a hesitant step towards Nick, pulling my cap off as I walked. Not a fucking clue as to how to make him feel any better or where we could go from here. And sure deep down inside, that he would blame me for it.
Author: Nat
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,107
Pairing: Gil/Nick, +Lady Heather
Characters: Gil Grissom, Nick Stokes, (Lady) Heather Kessler and occasional cameos by other cast members.
Warnings: Adults only, please. Character death.
Spoilers: N/A
Disclaimer: You know the "I don't own these two" drill, so I won't bore you.
Unbeta-ed: I'm too busy to spell check. I do my best.
Summary: Part Two Of A Series. Follows Love The Way You Lie (which I strongly suggest reading first. This might be a fun read solo, but will make much more sense as a second part.) Following the confusion and angst incurred by all in the First Part of this Series, Gil tries to figure out the best way to dig he and Nick out from under the unusual mess he has created...before it's too late.
A/N 1: Thanks to dear_supervisor for some suggestions AND sobran for the faboo icon.
A/N 2: Ok, Ok. Going to finish this story out. I felt too bad taking a total hiatus from it. Hope it's worth it!
Not since I had had my hearing restored had I ever felt like I was losing it again. Until the night we found Nick. After days of being lost in the footage of him trapped under ground that was streaming across my computer screen, the news that he had been found was surreal to say the least. I was moving aimlessly through the lab on weak legs that were unsupported by any sleep or any food - I had found myself to partake in either since Nick had been taken. I had also found myself afraid to even touch the computer screen that contained his image. As if somehow that would incriminate me as well.
When I finally made it to the lot where Nick had been buried was the first time I noticed it. I couldn’t hear. Anything. I looked around for a moment. Catherine, Warrick, sirens, Greg, shovels, dirt flying. I couldn’t hear any of it. I moved closer to the place where they were digging and felt acutely impotent. I lacked the strength that Warrick had to dig. I lacked the composure that Catherine had to wait for phone calls. All I could do was sit back and watch, and wait, in the stone cold silence and terror as I waited for them to shout that Nick was ok - hoping that would be the next thing I would hear. Someone…please…tell me Nick is ok.
Telling Catherine my history with Nick was like having an orgasm. That’s the only way I can think to describe it. Maybe it was the underlying stress of what may or may not be going on in the operating room, but sitting down with Catherine was like opening a floodgate. And I was powerless to stop it. It wasn’t long before the two of us were sitting alone in Heather’s hospital room, the door thankfully closed, and me weeping unashamedly…not even taking the time or energy to cover my face. And I told Catherine everything. If I had had more of my wits about me I might have been taken aback by the look of sheer confusion and concern that covered her face - her eyes wide, her mouth open occasionally whispering an ‘oh God, Gil’ or ‘Nicky’ - but I just continued to spill out years of history to her that I can only imagine was more than she could have ever imagined I would say to her. And I told her everything.
I told her about Denver. I told her about Heather. I told her about Sara. And I didn’t stop there. I told her things I hadn’t yet been able to admit to anyone, including Nick. Including myself. I told her about my fears. How I couldn’t lose Nick. How I hated myself for doing what I had done to him, and I was sure that a part of him would never forgive me. How I had pushed him to do what he had done. I was grateful, in a way, that we were interrupted before I launched into a full-fledged nervous breakdown. But that was before I knew why we were interrupted.
“Mr. Grissom. We need you. Right now.”
Both Catherine and I jolted at the interruption, and the same nurse that had come for Nick earlier stood in the doorway with a much more serious expression. And the front of her scrubs were covered in blood. I hardly remember standing up from the chair where I had been, but I think Catherine must have helped me. And my hearing was gone again. There were no footsteps in the hall. And as I turned and followed the nurse down the hall, I saw Nick. But I couldn’t hear him. Two nurses, one male, were pushing him against the wall, keeping him from reentering the operating room. And he was covered in blood. More blood than he should have been covered in - his hands, his scrubs. I moved towards him but the nurse that had called for me was pushing me into the operating room. Nick’s eyes met mine for only a moment, and we both seemed to be lost in the confusion of what was happening. I was only glad that he didn’t try to call for me…because all I could hear was ringing. But I watched him long enough to see Catherine run to him, and once more I was slightly relieved that I had been as open with Catherine as I had been. She could be there for Nick.
The nurse was speaking to me, but I didn’t know how to tell her I wasn’t hearing a word she said. I had turned to look into the room and saw Heather, half covered by the operating sheet that hung just below her chest, separating the room into two. And it didn’t take long for the nurse to leave my side and hurry to the other side - where she was joined by a team of people who seemed to be moving faster than I had ever seen people move in a hospital. I was lost in watching them for a moment before I moved slowly towards Heather. A nurse was tipping something into her IV and adjusting the oxygen mask that was covering Heather’s nose and mouth. She turned her head slowly, painfully towards me and I saw a tear leak from the corner of her eye and roll over her cheek.
I moved towards her and took her hand, which had been strapped into place along side the operating table. My ears were still ringing, and I tried desperately to make sense of what was going on in the room before I found myself able to look back down at Heather. She squeezed my hand and started to writhe her head as if she wanted to speak. I raised a shaky group of fingers and pulled ithe mask slightly, leaving her nose covered.
“We knew…this was a possibility…” her voice was broken and weak, I had never in all my years of knowing her felt afraid by a lack of strength in her. And I struggled to make out her words even as my chest felt ripped apart by them. The tears were coming more steadily out of her eyes, rolling into the pool of hair behind her head.
“You’re strong. You can make it through this.” I tried to find something to say to her, still unaware of what “this” even was. I heard the doctors coming through the sheets for the first time. Calling for more blood, reporting that she was hemmoraging. Heather’s gaze was becoming less focused and the emptiness coming over her eyes terrified me. I imagined in that moment that it was that terror that pushed Nick over the edge. The reason I was here with her and not him.
“I want you…to promise me…” Heather’s voice was distant and I leaned into her to make out her words as she stared at me.
“What is it, Heather….I’m here…”
“Promise me…that you’ll take care of him.”
“The baby will be fine Heather…” I looked around the room for some sign that I wasn’t lying to her, but I couldn’t hear much else than Heather’s life - her voice, her breath. She squeezed my hand and groaned. I looked back towards her as she writhed against her restraints, crying out in pain but only as gently as her frailty would allow her. She settled and looked back at me.
“I’m not talking….about the…baby.”
Her eyes welled again. And I realized the gravity of what she was saying. I had seen this before. In victims. Strangers. It was a lot more palpable coming from a woman I knew, that I had loved, that I had trusted and even married. I felt sick, and the lump in my throat kept me from saying anything as I watched a tear fall from my face onto hers.
“Nick….Nick will take care of….Finn…” she whispered, hardly audibly.
“And I’ll take care of Nick.” I whispered, hardly able to find my own voice.
Heather’s eyes looked forward, losing contact with mine, and she inhaled sharply. The nurse instructed me to replace her mask and I did so. I squeezed Heather’s hand and held it tightly. She whispered something. Softly and lowly…but not to me. Zoe. Zoe she said…calmly. And I squeezed her hand as she exhaled again. I waited to hear the next inhale.
I never did.
What I heard were the piercing cries of a newborn pounding through the sheet that separated us. So forceful I swore it the vibrations were making the sheet sway. I looked down at Heather. She was gone, and she was surrounded by the cries of a baby she would never meet. I stood back from her as I watched her vitals. The doctor proclaimed a time of death that matched the same time of birth he had just recorded. I felt queasy. A nurse standing by me must have sensed it as she eased me onto a stool. The room moved in a flurry as Heather’s body was detached from her IV and her oxygen. And soon enough, the sheet was removed as well. I caught a glimpse of two nurses diligently working to clean and swaddle Finn, who continued to scream and cry in the only sounds that I could hear. One of them asked me if I would like to hold him and I wasn’t sure what the correct response was. I stuttered a bit and in my hesitance one of them had dropped his tiny body into my arms.
He cried, like he was crying for the both of us. And I watched him in my arms, swallowed by blue blanket, an unusually large amount of dark hair covering his perfectly shaped head. He was Nick. And he was a reminder of what was waiting for us in the hall outside. I asked the nurse if I could carry the baby into the hallway. Or at least I gestured to her that that was my intent. I made sure I had my feet underneath me as I stood, unable to stop staring at the baby in my arms. I used my feet to kick to the door open and looked down the hall, through the glass in the still closed double doors that still protected us.
I saw Nick and Catherine walking the halls. Their backs to us. Catherine was holding onto Nick like she was holding him up. I pushed my way into the doorway before a nurse told me I couldn’t go any further with the baby. And that noise was enough to alert Nick and Catherine. They turned to face us in unison, and it was Catherine who smiled and cocked her head first, guiding Nick to turn and face me as she walked down the hall. But Nick had seen more than Catherine. And Nick was reading my face better than she was. She was lost in the bundle in my arms. But Nick was still focused on who wasn’t there, and not who was. Catherine stopped halfway between Nick and I before the smile left her face.
“Gil?”
I was locked on Nick even as Catherine spoke. There was an unimaginable silence.
“Nick. I’m sorry.”
I watched the color drain from Nick’s face and I felt weak again. The nurse grabbed me from behind. And Catherine rushed to me. She whispered something I couldn’t hear….I wasn’t sure if it was meant for the baby or for me. But in a rush of action, Catherine had taken Finn into her arms, and when I looked down at her face - it was wet with tears that streamed over the smiling corners of her mouth. There was a natural instinct in Catherine that reminded me I had been right to include her. She took the baby and eased into the doors alongside the nurse. I stood in the door and watched Nick, who hadn’t moved. He reached up and pulled the scrub cap off of his hair before lowering his head. He stumbled slightly in his steps before he leaned against the wall and let his body slump down against it. I felt powerless to help him. Unable to find the right words. I felt a hand on my back. It was Catherine.
“Go, Gil. I’ve got the baby. Go.”
She whispered against my back.
I took a hesitant step towards Nick, pulling my cap off as I walked. Not a fucking clue as to how to make him feel any better or where we could go from here. And sure deep down inside, that he would blame me for it.