Fic: Not Always Physical (Nick/?, 1/1 FRAO)
Not always physical.
By Karen /s
Rating: FRAO, for language.
Disclaimers: They aren’t mine…sigh….
Summary: Ecklie’s thoughts on Grave Danger.
I wanted to be the one to save you.
I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that they’d go for me taking a million out of the Lab’s budget for your ransom, but I had to try. I don’t know who was more surprised to hear of the offer, Gil or the sheriff, but it was Gil’s response that was the most telling.
Surprise…wariness…most likely the need to ask what was in it for me. If we hadn’t been standing about five feet from your parents at the time, he might have asked. However, the masks of civility we adopt for the outside world held and with another simple, ‘Thank you, Conrad’, he was gone.
Your father nodded once, but the news was just one more bit added to the hell of being unable to do a thing for his child. It’s obvious that he’s used to calling the shots-hell, I bet Bill Stokes is hell to sway in a courtroom. I see where you get your bullheadedness.
I also see where you get those eyes-the ones that convey so much, every emotion and thought. Liquid, and dark as midnight with pain, I don’t know how your mother held up. I don’t have kids-never wanted them, but the thought of knowing that your child was buried alive…God….
I went through the motions, again offering up all resources to find you. I don’t know if you were ever told, but the Bellagio was robbed of over a million dollars that evening and the owner called personally to let us know that they had simply sealed the room, and that we could get to it later. I had to laugh.
By that time everyone knew-well, everyone who had access to TV or radio. It had been leaked, we never found out if it was through one of our own or one of our *helpful* citizens that seem to monitor the police band for lack of anything else to do They even managed to get hold of a photo of you from somewhere. You looked young, earnest, and dedicated-in other words, you.
When the news came that Gordon had blown himself up, I came as close to losing it as I ever have. I suppose that I should be thankful that no one entered the men’s room a few minutes after the report. They would have been shocked to see the AD on his knees vomiting until his stomach bled.
Ten minutes later I was snarling at Catherine Willows, wanting to know why the hell I hadn’t been informed of their plans. She snarled right back, shouting that they all knew what my response would have been.
“I would have offered to deliver the ransom.”
The quietly spoken words had every bit of the impact that I’d hoped. I left the room, glancing at her reflection in the window and enjoyed the shock.
Yes, I’m a son of a bitch.
You know that though. I tried my best to have you hung out to dry over that murdered prostitute. I’m still ashamed of my actions, not that anyone but you will ever know, but taking my animosity towards Gil Grissom out on you was one of the lowest things that I’ve ever done. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.
And of course, it was Gil that broke the case, and with a fucking ant, of all things. I don’t know how many units responded to that nursery, but Nick, if you ever had any doubts about where you stand in the eyes of the LVPD, you shouldn’t have after that night. Hell, even Fromansky was there, and I think he’d still cheerfully gut Grissom.
When I heard Willows scream out that she’d found you, I just stopped. It wasn’t until I almost got run down by an EMS unit that I began to move. The minutes that it took to actually verify that the box was there and that, yes, you were still alive, were the longest I’ve ever lived through. Watching Warrick Brown all but sobbing as he kneeled next to you, and then Gil talking you back into coherency burned in my gut. I wanted to save you.
I needed to save you.
I could do nothing but stand there, though, silent, waiting…praying that fucking Semtex wouldn’t go off. And then you were out-filthy and in pain, and the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.
Alive.
I managed to stay away from the hospital for almost twenty-four hours knowing that friends and family would be filling the waiting room. Oddly enough, it was Sanders that came and told me you were conscious and had asked for me. You parents were gracious enough to give me a moment with you, and your mother softly squeezed my arm and thanked me for trying to help you.
Trying to help.
You opened your eyes and it seemed to take a bit for you to focus your attention. You smiled slightly and apologized but you were doing your best to zone out all of the family that had flown in. I offered to leave, but you grasped my arm.
“Greg told me what you did and I just wanted to thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You tried and that is all anyone can ask.”
I ended up just shaking my head and backing away. I honestly didn’t trust my voice at that point. You just gave me a single head nod and a small smile and then closed your eyes. The gesture meant more than you knew.
I walked back out into the corridor and was faced by Sara Sidle who wanted to know what you had said. When I just shook my head, she spoke. “None of this was his fault.”
Even Grissom looked at her like she’d grown a second head and she backed down. Catherine nodded, but also looked deep in thought. I wondered what she and Gil had been quietly discussing when I arrived, but had a feeling that I knew.
//I want my guys back.//
He hadn’t included her in that statement, probably because she was in a supervisory position. Neither one of them knew, but I had been thinking of rearranging the shifts for some time. It was obvious that Willows and Brown were dancing around each other, and with that two it couldn’t be a good thing.
Your phone call a week later was a surprise. I really didn’t expect you to even remember my visit, much less what I had said. Being who you are, however, you simply couldn’t let it go. I almost said no, but instead found myself sitting at your table the next evening sharing dinner. Maybe it was the wine, but I said more than I should or so I thought, and was actually headed for the door when your words stopped me.
“Sometimes saving a person isn’t physical.”
We talked for hours. You were too close to your friends, the therapist punctuated most all of his statements with, ‘So how did that make you feel?’, and although I was in a position to use your words and actions against you and had done so in the past, you opened up. The fear, the loathing, the pain-physical and emotional, all came out onto the table. There was more, I could tell, but you were exhausted and looked as if you’d drop at any moment. You froze when I placed a careful arm around your shoulders but stood and gestured towards the bedroom.
I called the office and told the receptionist that I wasn’t going to be in the next day-an emergency had come up in my family. By her surprise, I think she may have thought that I’d been hatched straight from the depths of hell. Ecklie? Family? I’m sure that was all over the office in a matter of minutes.
I turned on the stereo and was surprised by the classical music wafting out of the speakers. You’ve told me since then that is your ‘thinking music’. I spent the next hour or so going through your book shelves and the rumors of your love of ornithology were obviously true. There was a knock on the door and opened it to find Greg Sanders. He looked shocked, and then smiled. The boy’s eyes are a close second to yours in giving away your thoughts. He just handed me a bag containing some ice cream, a half pound of Blue Hawaiian, the latest NFL game for Xbox, and was gone.
I was amazed at his restraint, but didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
You wandered out of the bedroom about then, and as short as your hair is, you still managed to have an impressive case of bed-head. You looked about fourteen.
My conscience told me I was a pedophile.
I told my conscience to go fuck itself.
You followed me into the kitchen and grinned at the contents of the bag from ‘G’, as you called him. While the coffee brewed, you got out bowls and instructed me as to where the ice cream scoop resided. I found you in the living room setting up the machine and we spent most of the night finishing off the ice cream and making inroads into the coffee.
I am terrible at video games.
You didn’t seem to mind though, and instructed me on the ins and outs of Madden NFL.
I still sucked.
That night started an odd routine-even after you returned to work we continued our dinners, but movies for the most part replaced video games.
Thank God.
Occasionally the others would drop by while I was there, singly or en masse, and if they thought it was odd that I was present they did their best to ignore it...or possibly me. Sanders seemed to be the only one who truly accepted the situation-you told me later that Brown had returned after we’d all gone one evening and gone ballistic. You wouldn’t tell me exactly what was said, but your eyes said it for you.
Two weeks later, Mr. and Mrs. Warrick Brown had announced their marriage just before the evening briefing.
It wasn’t Catherine Willows.
I have often wondered if Brown’s anger was due to jealousy but you assured me that he’s as straight as they come.
I still wonder.
By that time Catherine had accepted a demotion back to the ranks, saying she wanted to keep the family together. I think she found out that having the responsibility wasn’t nearly as much fun as wanting it.
You? You took it in stride on the outside, smiling and congratulating Warrick; hugging and thanking Catherine for being there for you. For once I couldn’t tell what was going through your head.
That night you hugged me.
Then you kissed me.
When I managed to string enough words together to make an entire sentence, I asked your reasons for your actions. You sighed, rolled your eyes, and told me to turn off ‘Office Ecklie’. So I did and kissed you back, and that definitely got the ball rolling. We ended up in your bed with you buried in me up to the hilt and grinning like a mad man. You blush every time I mention it, but that Texas drawl when used in conjunction with some of the filthiest sex talk I’ve ever heard, is a definite turn on.
The others know, but we have our own version of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ going. Brown seems happy enough with the little woman, and Catherine seems to be eyeing the newest supervisor over in Search and Rescue. Sara is still eyeing Gil. I wonder if he’ll ever tell her that it’s a hopeless cause.
Also, I don’t ask Gil why Brass was looking for his tie tack under Gil’s desk with Gil still sitting there, and he doesn’t ask me why I occasionally come into the office walking oddly.
And if things have relaxed a bit, and if the water cooler comments about me not being quite the prick I used to be are true…well, good. Most of them just don’t know they have you to thank for it.
By the way, I’ve decided you’re right. Sometimes saving a person isn’t physical.
But you know? In this case it was mutual.
End