FIC: Sins of the Father (10/11) Gil/Nick

[knightmusic]

Title: Sins of the Father (chapter 10/11)
Author: Knightmusic
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Summary: An orphaned girl and a murdered son, and Gil and Nick discover the impressions a father leaves on the life of his child.
Author's Note/Warnings: As always, praise and thanks be to laurelgardner, my tireless beta. 
Disclaimer: No one would ever mistake me for Jerry Bruckheimer.  I certainly wouldn't.

Previous chapters are here.



Nick filled him in as quickly as possible. Even if he hadn’t said it directly, he had been asking for Gil’s help, and Gil was mentally documenting all the information he was being given.

It hardly seemed fair or right that he was able to do so. But while he was on the phone with Nick, his training and experience took hold, and the case had no face. This was an abduction, and the first twenty-four hours were crucial. He knew too well what could, in all appalling likelihood, happen after that.

But once he hung up, that barrier of objectivity dissolved as though it had never been. He couldn’t think about the case. All he could think about was her.

Her face was so clear in his mind; solemn eyes and round face peering up at him with awe and trust from behind a curtain of dresses in her mother’s closet. He remembered the way she’d refused to let go of his hand, how scared she’d looked when he had left her in the hospital, the way she’d smiled when he came back. He remembered the way she’d laughed at Nick’s pathetic jokes and the way he’d laughed at hers.

And when she’d hugged him - skinny arms squeezing his neck - his heart had shattered from the inside out. He would have wept, if not for the certainty that such was an inappropriate reaction to this sensation. It was as old as life itself and yet so very new to him.

It was everything and nothing like what he felt for Nicky. It was just as strong, just as overwhelming and staggeringly intoxicating, but with a primal need to protect and defend. It wasn’t that he’d be willing to step between her and a slavering grizzly, or a maniac with a gun, it was that nothing would be able to stop him.

And now that parental instinct was responsible for the myriad of impulses that were flooding his mind and body. Most of which suggested hunting and killing. But however useful those might have been to the survival of the species, they didn’t adapt well to life in the modern world and work as a criminalist. He and Nick and the rest of the lab had the most power to save her right now, but he still felt like he’d been taken out at the knees.

* * *

It wasn’t that Gil didn’t have faith in Vega and the rest of the PD to do their jobs. They knew who had Chloe, and given time they’d track him down and bring him in. When a child’s life was on the line, everyone suddenly got very, very good at their jobs. His faith in his colleagues was the short leash currently reigning in his panic.

Pictures of Chloe and Winters had been sent to every news station; Vega was re-visiting neighbors, friends and co-workers; even Brass had cut the thing with Tromba short to get involved. All of Vegas was looking for Chloe. Someone would see something.

And while Vegas was looking for Chloe, he and Nick could look for evidence. If there was anything physical that might tell them where Winters had gone, they’d find it.

“Near as I can tell the son of a bitch went around to every children’s ward in the city to find her,” Nick said. He sounded edgy; his words were strained. “Vega called some other hospitals to see if they had anything. A few others confirmed the vehicle. A green ‘98 Monte Carlo. With a partial plate number.”

“Who have you talked to?” Gil was hitting all the bases fast, much faster than he ever had before, no matter how time-sensitive the case. But everything was like that now. He was talking fast. Thinking, moving, breathing; everything at the speed of light. If they were going to get her back, it would happen soon; probably in the next few hours.

“We spoke to his co-workers and a couple friends,” Nick said, leafing through his notes. Gil noticed that Nick was keeping pace with him and, if anything, pushing just a bit. “No viable leads from any of them.”

“Doesn’t mean someone isn’t covering,” Gil observed, and Nick nodded.

“We’ve got to get inside his head,” Gil said, sitting down next to Nick. “What are the chances he’ll try to run?”

“With this guy? Who the fuck knows. So far, he hasn’t been able to cover his tracks with a blanket, but he might wise up and lie low.”

Gil nodded. “If he tries to get out of Vegas, PD will stop him. Let’s focus on where he might hide.”

“Right,” Nick said. “There’s an undercover unit watching his house, but he hasn’t been there since the murders. He went to ground right away.”

“Then chances are he took Chloe back to where ever he’s been hiding this whole time.”

“Creature of habit,” Nick said, and Gil could see his mind racing. “I’ll tell Vega to focus on his buddies. Chances are one of them’s hiding him.”

“What about his house?” Gil asked as Nick was leaving.

“Been all over it already. Why?”

“It’s a new crime,” Gil said. “We should go back and look for new evidence.”

Nick jaw set tight. “Right. I’ll meet you at the car.”

* * *

Nick’s jaw stayed set while he drove, and there was matching tension in Gil’s own. He’d wondered how Nicky felt about Chloe. He supposed he had an answer now.

“Why’d he even care?” Nick said suddenly. “She’d been raising Chloe alone for seven years and then BAM! two nights ago, he shows up and wants her back? Why?”

It sounded rhetorical, like Nick was just venting thoughts, but Gil answered anyway. “It’s not uncommon for men to become,” he paused, considering his words, “territorial regarding their offspring. The way he sees it, she belongs to him, and her mother was an obstacle.”

It sounded like someone else had said it. Like someone else had control of his mouth; making it analyze and explain everything in such a calm, detached way.

“That’s twisted,” Nick muttered.

“It’s genetic,” Gil said. “But yes, it’s twisted.” It was more than twisted. It was fucking bent. Broken.

They arrived at the house. The undercover unit had nothing to share with them, and it wasn’t too long before they realized that Winters’s house was in the same boat. Nick had already collected anything that seemed even slightly probative.

The house had sliding doors that led out to a large, unkempt backyard. Gil stepped outside, leaving the door open behind him. He didn’t know much about Matt Winters, not yet, but the house, and now this yard, were giving him a good clue.

What looked as though it had once been a flower garden was littered with beer bottles. A bird bath had become an ashtray. There were no fences, but the property line was clearly marked by the level of the unmoved grass. The other houses were well kept, and their owners probably did not appreciate their delinquent neighbor.

But one caught his eye.

Across the open lawns, another house faced the opposite street. It too looked as though it’s owner was disinterested in superficial upkeep, although not nearly to the extreme that Winters was.

Barely visible from behind the garage was the hood of a green car.

Gil hardly realized he was moving until he was halfway to the house. By this time he could see the car; a Monte Carlo. The back door was open and he made for it. There was no answer when he knocked.

“Las Vegas Police Department, criminalistics,” he said, stepping inside cautiously. His only concession to his primitive impulses had been to wear his gun when he’d left the lab. He drew it now.

He could hear movement from inside the house, and followed the sound. It occurred to him that he probably shouldn’t be in here without backup, but there was nothing to do about that now. He turned a corner into the living room.

“Drop it.”

Gil froze. A kid, looking to be mid to late twenties, had spoken. He was crouched on the floor and brandishing a wicked looking pocket knife. In front of him, wrapped tightly in his other arm and being used as a human shield, was Chloe. Gil’s relief at seeing her alive nearly preempted his horror at the danger she was in.

“Gil!” she said, and the kid moved the knife to her throat.

“Shut up,” he hissed in her ear, then turned back to Gil. “I said drop it!” he barked. He was probably bluffing; not serious in his intent to harm Chloe, but Gil didn’t consider risking it. He did as he was told, but didn’t look away from Chloe. Her huge, dark eyes were terrified.

“What’re you doing here?” Matt Winters said.

“I’m looking for her,” Gil said, his eyes still locked on Chloe’s. He nodded at her. “It’s okay,” he signed. “I’ll get you-”

“Stop that!” Winters said, waving the knife at Gil now. He was paranoid and edgy, and Gil couldn’t quite tell if he was high as a kite or if something else was to blame.

“Matt,” he said, in his most reasonable tone, trying hard not to scare or threaten him further. “Let her go. You don’t want to hurt her.”

“What’d you know?” Winters asked. “You don’t know nothing. I’ll do what I damn well want. You ain’t gonna make me do nothing.” Chloe started to whimper. She wasn’t crying yet, and some removed part of Gil was impressed and proud of her bravery, but she was struggling, trying to pull Winters’s hand off her.

“Hold still, you little shit,” Winters said, jabbing her with the knife again, this time in her arm. “Just knock it off, got it?”

“Don’t make this worse,” Gil said, still soothing. “The police know it was you who took her. It’s over, Matt. Drop the knife, let her go.”

“They ain’t gonna find me,” Matt mumbled, but the knife dropped a bit.

“Gil, help!” Chloe said in a strained whisper. Matt snapped to attention, and the knife went back to her throat.

“I told you to shut up!” he said, and then he looked at Gil, recognition dawning. “You’re Gil,” he said, eyes narrowing and a nasty sneer forming on his face. “I thought she was making shit up.” He squeezed Chloe tighter, pressing his face against her ear. She made a tiny, frightened noise.

“Whadid he tell you?” he said in an evil, vulgar voice. “That you were gonna go live with him? That he was your new daddy?” Chloe didn’t answer, just looked at Gil.

Gil felt everything inside him compress into a tiny, screaming ball. He lifted his hands in a non-threatening gesture. “I never said that,” he said.

Winters’s face snapped back to look at Gil, and thankfully his grip on Chloe seemed to relax a bit. “Don’t be thinking you can take her. I don’t care what that bitch said.” The sneer on his face got nastier. “How long you been stickin’ it to her?” he asked. “You think just cuz you were fucking Jackie that gave you some rights?”

The mistake puzzled Gil, although it was quite likely he would make the same assumption about any male with a connection to Chloe or her mother. Defending territory. It illuminated a possibility in Gil’s mind.

“Maybe I did,” Gil said, shooting for a tone of voice that would be open to interpretation.

“Fuck you!” The response was instant. “She’s mine! I wasn’t gonna let that bitch keep her, and I ain’t lettin’ you!” Gil was only mildly interested in the words. He barely heard them. What he did notice was that Winters was waving the knife at him again.

If Winters’s focus was on him, Chloe would be safe.

The other thing he noticed was the sound of the back door opening, and the very soft sound of footsteps coming closer. That might be Nick, but it might be one of Winters’s friends, too. He couldn’t risk it.

“She didn’t want you around, Matt,” Gil said. It was a dangerous game, trying to gauge just how far he could push. He only wanted to push one way. “You’re just not father material. That’s why she wanted me,” he lied fluidly, guessing at the things that would enrage him the most. The footsteps came closer.

“You’ve already lost,” Gil continued. “I’ve taken your place.” Winters’s eyes were focused on Gil now. He thought he saw some slackening of the arm holding Chloe in place, but didn’t dare break eye contact to look.

“I’m better than you, Matt,” he said and risked a small step forward. Winters didn’t seem to notice, but he didn’t think he could risk going for his gun. Not until Chloe was free.

“I’m a better lover,” he said, and risked another tiny step. Nothing from Winters. “I’m a better father.” Step. He cocked his head and gave Winters a meaningful look. Winters twitched slightly.

“I’m a better man,” he said. Step.

“She knew that,” he said. He was so close to his gun. If he was fast enough, he might be able to grab it. “You’re nothing, Matt. A loser. And everyone knows it.”

Winters pounced, flinging Chloe to one side.

“Run, Chloe!”

She bolted and hid behind the couch. After that, Gil lost track of her because he had an enraged junkie coming at him with a knife. He had some training in defense, but he’d never imagined a time when he might actually have to use it. He tried to remember the things he’d been taught, the techniques he knew, but everything was vanishing just as he called upon it and he couldn’t think anymore. He could only do.

Winters’s swings weren’t precise or accurate, and Gil managed to dodge the first few and get a grip on his arm. They wrestled over the knife. Gil was bigger and stronger, but Winters was wirey and twisted out of Gil’s hold. Gil glanced around, trying to locate his abandoned gun, and Winters attacked again.

He got closer this time, and even though the wound was nowhere near fatal, Gil dropped to the floor in pain, holding his side. Then Winters was on top of him, arms around Gil’s chest, ready to go for his throat.

The gunshot startled both of them.

The shot was wide, but close enough that Gil felt it go past. Nick! he thought in relief, and in that second where Winters panicked and Gil relaxed, the balance shifted. Winters leapt back from Gil, searching for the shooter, while Gil located and grabbed for his gun. Winters saw, and launched himself back at Gil, who had just enough time to wheel himself around and fire-

-in unison with the second shot from Nick, who was now fully in the room, gun trained on Matt. His aim was true, Gil’s less so, but Winters crumpled before the shots had stopped ringing in Gil’s ears.

Gil looked up. Nick was holstering his gun, hands steady, but the minute it was away, he started to shake. All over. He walked over to Gil and dropped onto the floor next to him.

“You okay?” he said in a weak, warbled voice. He touched him all over, hands on Gil’s face, shoulders, arms, and then his injured side. His eyes were wet.

“Is it bad?” he asked. Gil pressed a hand over the cut and shook his head, then grabbed him, latching his arms around Nick’s chest, pulling him as close as possible; grounding them both. Nick grabbed back, clinging hard to Gil’s shoulder.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Nick said, voice breaking a bit and his accent thickening. It often happened when Nick was stressed, or surprised. Usually Gil found it endearing. Right now it broke his heart with relief.

“You could’ve been killed,” Nick went on. “Or-” he choked and hit Gil on the shoulder. The gesture was full of terrified rage, but lacked the force to hurt. Gil hung on harder.

“Don’t do that to me,” Nick whispered. “Ever again.”

Gil closed his eyes and tucked his head into Nick’s shoulder. “I had to,” he said. “I had to find-” he stopped, suddenly panicked.

“Chloe?” he called, head snapping up, looking around. Where had she gone? What if Nick’s warning shot had hit her? What if one of the others had?

He heard running feet behind him and then small arms were around his neck. He almost sobbed in relief, reaching around to pull her into his lap between himself and Nick. “It’s okay,” he said. He searched her over, running his hands down her sides, assuring himself that she wasn’t injured. She was crying too, tear trails lined her face, and more were coming.

“Oh baby, it’s okay,” he soothed, and pulled her against his chest.

Outside, Gil could hear sirens. Maybe Nick had called for backup before coming to look for him. They got closer and then someone was banging on the door.

“Las Vegas Police!”

“Vega?” Nick yelled back. “It’s okay. We’re in here.” The door opened and Vega entered, gun drawn, surveying the room.

“Anyone else in here?” he asked, weapon still up. Nick shook his head. Vega dropped next to Winters’s body and checked for a pulse. “We were on our way over here when a neighbor called in about shouts and gunfire,” he said.

“Here? Why?” Nick asked.

“This house belongs to a friend of his,” Vega nodded to Winters. “So does the car.” He looked at Gil, Nick and the very frightened Chloe. “What are you two doing here, anyway?”

“My fault,” Gil said, softly. “I was following evidence. I didn’t know this would happen.”

Vega almost rolled his eyes. “Well, you were lucky,” he said, but his tone was gentle. He cocked his head and looked at Gil’s side. “Are you okay?” he asked, indicating the wound. Gil nodded.

“I’ll be fine.”

Vega pulled out his phone and called for an ambulance anyway. “They’ll be here in a few minutes,” he said, hanging up. He nodded at Chloe. “She okay?”

Chloe hadn’t looked up once since Vega had entered. Her face was still pressed against Gil’s neck. Gil squeezed her gently.

“Not a scratch on her,” he said. Vega looked back and forth between the three of them.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ll be just outside. Give a shout if you need anything, okay?” And he left, giving them the time to pull themselves back together.

Nick waited for Vega to leave, then raised a hand to stroke first Gil’s face then Chloe’s hair. She smiled back, turning her head to look at him without letting go of Gil, and Nick’s smile became a broken, desperate laugh, decorated with tears that he didn’t bother to wipe away.

Gil closed his eyes, not thinking of anything but Nick’s arm around his shoulders and Chloe’s face against his neck. His pulse was still racing, and adrenaline was making his whole system feel sour, but right now he felt good. He felt safe.

“Gil?” Chloe’s voice was soft and scared. He almost felt the words before he heard them.

“What?”

“That man,” Chloe squeezed his neck tighter, “said he was my daddy.”

Gil looked up and met Nick’s disgusted, angry expression. Nick turned to Winters’s body lying next to them, trying to mutilate it with his eyes. For a while, he was torn in his answer. Either a lie or the truth could be equally damaging; now or in the future.

“No,” he said, making his decision.

And it was true. At least in the way she was asking. He might have been her father - that was mere biology - but he wasn’t her daddy. “Daddies are supposed to protect you. Not hurt you,” he explained. Chloe sighed at his words and relaxed.

“That’s right,” she said. “Like you did.” She snuggled herself closer and kissed his cheek. For a second, he forgot how to breathe.

“Yeah,” he said, and tears leaked out of his eyes.