Without Windows or Doors: Chapter 11
Title: Without Windows Or Doors: Chapter 11
Author: laurelgardner
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Summary: Comfort fic, post Grave Danger. Gil tries his hand at being there for Nicky, with somewhat an unorthodox approach.
Author's Note/Warnings: SPOILERS. And slowness.
Disclaimer: No attempt at copyright claims are being made.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10
Gil was not a particularly light sleeper. Not really. But there were some sounds that could instantly stir him, sounds that some part of his subconscious knew were meaningful. His clock radio, for example, even if something quiet happened to be playing on whatever station he'd selected the day before. Or sounds of footsteps, or someone stirring, if he'd gone to sleep alone.
Or his cell phone vibrating.
Blearily, he rolled onto his stomach and crawled toward his duffel back to retrieve it, wondering who the hell had the nerve to call him now. He glanced at the display screen; it was Warrick. He answered it.
"Hello, Warrick."
"Hey," came the familiar voice.
"You know," said Gil, "I could have sworn I told Sofia not to let anyone call me."
"Is that a fact," Warrick mused. "Then I guess it's a good thing I didn't ask her permission first."
Gil smiled in spite of himself and sighed resignedly. "Can you hang on just a sec, Warrick?"
Their conversation didn't resume until Gil was out of the tent and equally out of earshot. This was not so much an attempt to keep Nick from hearing their conversation as it was merely to avoid waking him.
"Where the hell are you guys?" Warrick asked, once Gil had given him the all-clear.
"We're communing with nature," Gil explained simply.
"You gonna tell me where?" Warrick pressed.
"No," said Gil.
He heard Warrick sigh heavily and wondered if he was in for an argument. It wasn't often that he and Warrick found themselves engaged in a battle of wills, but it was rarely easy or pleasant when it happened. He wondered if this was going to be one of those times.
But Warrick just said, "Okay."
"We're not very far," Gil assured him. "Just enough to be incommunicado."
"Almost," Warrick corrected.
Gil laughed quietly. "Yes," he agreed. "Almost."
"So how's Nick doing?"
Gil thought for a moment. As much as he knew Warrick was a close and trusted friend to Nick, Nick had been placing his trust in Gil. And it was simply not in Gil's nature to share confidences entrusted to him by one person with another.
"Are you worried about him?" he asked.
Warrick made a noise of astonishment. "Of course I'm worried about him."
"Why?" Gil asked, "Why, specifically?"
Warrick sighed. "Because he keeps acting like he's okay."
"And how do you know he's not?"
"He couldn't be! I..." Warrick paused, then, more calmly. "I couldn't."
"I know, Warrick," said Gil. "But if Nick's going to have a chance, I think we should all forget about how we'd react to this."
"Wait," said Warrick, "what do you mean, 'have a chance'?"
"Warrick," said Gil, "Nick's recovering on his own. He's stronger than you think. But the truth is, I don't expect him to stay with forensics work."
Warrick was silent for a moment. "Really."
"Really," said Gil, "and honestly, I'm not entirely sure he should." After a thoughtful pause, he added, softly, "But I want him to."
"Look," said Warrick, "He talked to Catherine. He's coming back in another month."
"Oh, I have no doubt he can still do it," Gil assured him. "But think about it, Warrick; before this happened, what would Nick have said was his biggest weakness on the job?"
"Sympathizing," said Warrick in a defeated tone.
"And will that be better, or worse, now that Nick has been a victim?" Gil asked.
"So that's it?" Warrick's voice was rising in frustration. "Nick's done, end of story. Is that what you think?"
"I don't think anything," Gil said calmly. "I'm just saying we need to be prepared for any circumstances , and we can't let what we want for Nick influence what we think is best for him."
The sound of Warrick's heavy sigh was loud and clear over the line.
"Listen, Warrick," Gil said. "You stopped me from making a big mistake."
"Yeah? How's that?"
"Well," Gil replied, "I thought...'I'm not Nick's supervisor...I don't work with him anymore, so it's not my place to step in right now.' But right now, I'm not as concerned about professionalism. Nick doesn't need colleagues; he needs friends."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
"Wow," Warrick breathed. "Hearing you talk like that...I gotta check out my window, see if any pigs are flying."
Gil laughed. "Well, the skies are clear out my way, but I'll keep my eyes open for you."
* * * *
Upon awakening, Nick noted the quality of the sunlight filtering through the tent and knew he'd slept late. He felt the most wonderful sense of being well-rested, but man, could he use a good stretch right now. He wasn't going to get it in here, though, so he'd have to find some way to battle the lethargy still gripping his half-sleeping body and make himself crawl out of the tent. With an enormous effort of will, he did so. It was a disgustingly perfect day outside; cloudless blue sky, gentle breeze, and it was neither too hot nor too cold.
And he couldn't remember having felt this good in a long time.
He thought back to the previous night, wondering if he should feel embarrassed about any of it. He thought he probably should, and maybe later he would, but right now, he didn't. Instead, he felt strangely...relieved. He didn't know why, but what he did know was that somehow, he was very, very lucky where Gil Grissom was concerned. If only to have these few days alone with him.
Speaking of, where in God's name was the man?
He’d obviously awoken well before Nick had. The remains of a new campfire were still smouldering lightly. Next to it in the ash, a small saucepan sat covered, in which Nick found his half of breakfast - or was it lunch? It was probably late enough to be.
But just then, Nick heard sounds of activity coming from the direction of the river, and decided he wasn't hungry just yet. Following the sounds of quiet splashing , Nick came to the same clearing where he and Grissom had sat together the night before. There was a slight sand bar here, feeding into gradually deepening waters; perfect for wading.
His back to Nick, Grissom was in the water up to his waist. Well, almost up to his waist; as the water ebbed and flowed around him, Nick couldn't help but notice that things didn't quite stay covered...and Grissom wasn't wearing any trunks, either.
Then he turned around, and Nick had to focus so hard on keeping his eyes up, that he barely heard Gil speaking to him.
"Good morning, Nick," he said brightly, "how'd you sleep?"
"Uh..." said Nick, "fine." Looking up was distracting enough, actually. Who knew Grissom would turn out to be that easy on the eyes? Not what you'd call ripped, but nothing to sniff at, either. Soft in places, but firm underneath all that. His chest was smooth and strangely hairless, and suddenly Nick couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to run his hands over it.
Danger zone. It was best not to think such things when he was right there. After all, Nick knew how transparent he was, how easily his face gave away what he was thinking.
"Care to join me?" Gil asked. "The water's great."
"I dunno," said Nick. "Looks kinda cold."
Grissom raised an eyebrow at him, half inquisitive, half mock-indignance.
"Oh!" Nick cried. "No...I - I didn't mean it like that!" He felt his face growing warm.
Grissom chuckled quietly. Nick stared at the ground, mortified.
"I think I will join you," he said, eager to change the object. And with that, Nick stripped quickly and dove in.
Just as quickly, he scrambled back out again. "Jeez!" he cried. "That's freezing!"
"Is it?" Gil asked innocently, following Nick out and onto the bank. He pulled two towels from where they hung on nearby tree limb and handed one to Nick. "I didn't think so. But like I said...Leech Lake in January."
Nick glared at him. He was sorely tempted to thwack Grissom with a towel, but he didn't think he felt brave enough quite yet.
* * * *
"So did I dream it, or did Warrick call you this morning?"
Gil glanced up from where he was dismantling the tent - something he could definitely do just as well himself - to where Nick stood wolfing down a quick breakfast.
"Yes," Gil confirmed. "He called."
"What'd he want?"
Gil thought for a moment. "Well," he said. "I think he wanted to make sure I hadn't misplaced you."
He hadn't meant anything by the comment, but for some reason it solicited from Nick a sudden noise of abject frustration.
"What?" Gil asked him.
Nick shook his head. "It's nothing."
Gil set down the fiberglass pole he was holding. "No, really," he said. "What is it?"
Nick sighed. "I don't know," he said, "I just feel like I've got a stamp on my forehead, now. 'Fragile! Handle with care'!" Nick motioned to his forehead, gesturing dramatically as he spoke the words. He shook his head. "And I'm not, okay? I'm...I'm a lot of things right now, but I'm not that."
Gil smiled warmly. Even through his frustration, Nick was patient, he held his good humor.
"No," said Gil, "you're not."
He could only hope that the words would mean as much to Nick as he wanted them to. Still, he didn't think he imagined Nick looking the slightest bit taken aback.
"Thanks," he said.
Nodding, Gil stepped closer to Nick and touched his shoulder. "Look," he said, "I think...we're the ones who are fragile after all this. And if you ask me, Warrick needs your support right now."
"Mine," said Nick, disbelieving.
"I think that's why he called me," said Gil. "I'm being very selfish this weekend, stealing you away from everyone else."
"Selfish," said Nick, equally disbelieving. "So that's what this is."
"Mm-hmm," said Gil brightly, and Nick laughed.
"Whatever," he said. And with that, Nick went back to his breakfast while Gil went back to disassembling the tent. But after a minute of silence, Gil spoke again, more seriously.
"I don't think any of us were prepared for the thought of losing you," he said softly, not looking up from his work. "It's funny how our minds process our fears. Somehow, we start thinking that if we just never let you out of our sights, you'll be safe and we'll never have to face losing you again. Or, failing that...just to see you as often as we can." Gil glanced up at Nick and smiled weakly. "It's not logical," he said with a shrug. "But that's how it is."
Nick said nothing. In fact, he was silent for a very long time.