FIC: Sins of the Father (11/11) Gil/Nick
Title: Sins of the Father (chapter 11/11)
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: This chapter contains blatant flaunting of my lack of knowledge of the adoption process in Las Vegas. But hey, this is a work of fiction, and we like "happily ever after" endings, right? And one last time, may praises and glory fall to the feet of laurelgardner, my beta.
Disclaimer: Jerry Bruckheimer and Co. own all. As much as I might dream otherwise. Alas.
Previous chapters can be found here.
He needed stitches. The paramedics arrived and bundled him off to get taken care of, and he shared his second ambulance ride with Chloe. His treatment at the hospital was concluded in hours, but she was required to stay for further evaluations. He asked questions, tried to find people who would talk to him about her future, and when courteousy failed, he even tried his hand at bulling, but either it was no use or he was no good at it. He left the hospital knowing she was safe and healthy but little else.
Nick tried to convince him to take time off from work, but the last thing he wanted was to sit around, unoccupied. And no one at the lab was walking on eggshells around him. Sara did ask how he was feeling, and Greg toned down his normal extravagant attitude, but those were concessions he was comfortable with.
At home, he turned to tried and true distractions; bugs and books. And at the moment, he was testing out the effectiveness of cooking as a diversion and trying to talk himself out of making more futile phone calls when Nick came home.
“I talked to Child Services today,” Nick said, dropping his coat over a chair as he came in.
“About Chloe?” Gil asked from the kitchen.
Nick nodded. “She’s been remanded into foster care,” he said. “Temporarily,” he added in response to Gil’s face. Foster care was an inadequate solution at best, but at least she was safe.
“How temporary?”
“Pending the approval of our application for adoption,” Nick said, and grinned. Gil stared at him, open mouthed and astonished.
“How cooperative of them,” he said, with a touch of ironic bad grace. “What made them change their minds?”
Nick’s grin got bigger and he shook his head in fond disbelief. “You telling me you haven’t seen the papers lately?” he asked.
“No,” Gil said. “I’ve been avoiding them, in fact.”
“Uh huh,” Nick said, as if he’d been expecting that. “Well, I brought one for you.” He opened the paper he’d been carrying and handed it to Gil. “Take a look,” he said.
CSI HEROES WISH TO ADOPT DEAF ORPHAN
Gil dropped the paper enough to make a pained face at Nick. Nick winced.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Soap-opera sensationalism. Just ignore the headline and read it.”
Gil did. When he had finished, he raised a shrewd eyebrow at Nick. “Something tells me you’ve taken a page out of Catherine’s political handbook,” he said.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Nick said, flashing a devilishly innocent smile. “But I might have made a few, ah, carefully worded statements within earshot of the press while you were getting stitched up.”
Gil chuckled soundlessly. “Instant human interest story,” he said.
“Yep. It’s made everyone very cooperative all of a sudden.” He pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. “That’s the address and phone number of Chloe’s foster home. We’ve been approved to visit her, give her rides home from school, take her out for ice cream, that sort of thing. During daytime hours, anyway.” Gil took the paper, reading the words but not retaining their meaning.
“I called on my way home,” Nick said. “She’s expecting us in about an hour.”
Gil kissed him. “Thank you,” he said.
Nick grinned. “No problem.” He froze and cocked his head to one side, sending Gil a considering look. “You know, you get all dopey looking when we talk about her.”
Gil blinked. “I do?”
“Yeah. It’s kinda cute, actually.”
Gil made a face that was part eye-roll and part blush. “I’m glad you think so,” he said.
* * *
When the other shoe dropped, he’d almost forgotten that he’d been waiting for it.
The message came for him at the end of his shift. It was as unsurprising as it was unexpected. He fiddled with the paper, reading it over again, for a few moments, trying to decide what to do, before steeling himself and heading to the police department.
He was let in immediately; no one even asked who he was here to see. It felt a little sickening to be here, but he fought through it. It is that which I fear the most that I know I must do, he thought. Not that he actually feared this, but the sentiment still applied.
“Joseph,” Gil said, twitching his head in a cool, quasi-nod. “I understand you wanted to see me.” He made sure his tone conveyed exactly how much he appreciated the request. Joseph didn’t look up from where he was sitting. He had the newspaper open in front of him. Gil pursed his lips and frowned in irritation. He had no intention of being hauled down here to satisfy the whims of this man. Just as he was about to tell him to screw himself and leave, Joseph put the paper down and looked at him.
“’Joseph,’” he said, contemplatively, looking up at one corner of his cell. “You weren’t so informal during the investigation, Gil. Why not call me ‘Dad’ now that the playing field is leveled?”
Gil felt as though he were submerged in pond scum, but he met Joseph’s eyes with strength and calm. “It would be inappropriate,” he said.
“Oh?” Joseph said. “Because I’m on the wrong side of the bars?”
“Because it’s inaccurate,” Gil corrected.
Joseph folded the paper, chuckling. “Just hoping you would indulge your old man, that’s all,” he said, standing up and walking over to the bars. “So how are you, Gil? We never did get a chance to catch up.”
Gil could’ve spat nails. Or maybe acid.
“I’ve been reading about you, you know,” Joseph continued, waving the paper meaningfully. “Interesting story,” he said. “Things I never would have guessed about you. And that young man of yours.”
“What do you want, Joseph?” Gil said. He was being baited, and he wasn’t going to bite.
“What do I want?” Joseph laughed. “Why would you ask that, Gil? Would you give it to me?”
No, Gil thought. If it was in my power to make sure you never got it, I would do that. But instead he cast an unimpressed, contemptuous glare at his father. It made the man laugh again.
“You used to make that same face when you were two,” he said.
Gil rolled his eyes and looked away, sighing fiercely. He should leave. He wasn’t interested in being made sport of by a felon. When he started to turn, Joseph stopped laughing.
“All right, I’ll play nice,” he said. Gil arched an eyebrow at him, but didn’t move closer. “I thought we should talk about what you want, Gil,” he said. Gil didn’t move, or indeed do anything to invite him to keep talking, but he did.
“You want to know why, don’t you? I knew you were there, behind the glass. The Captain and your young assistant kept looking at you. Lamentable game faces, the both of them.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Gil said, smiling a little. “The game went to them in the end.”
Joseph shrugged, lifting his hands, palms up, in an unconcerned way. “But I was the one winning for a very long time,” he said. He dropped his arms, then crossed them in front of his chest.
“I didn’t tell them ‘why’ when they asked me, because I knew you were there. I really should make you ask me,” he raised a hand when Gil started to respond, cutting him off. “But I know you won’t do that. So I’ll tell you, because the truth is, I want you to know. I always wanted you to know. That’s why I did it.”
“I don’t believe that,” Gil said. “You killed your perfect son as a message to me? That’s beneath you, Joseph.”
“No, I eliminated him because he was becoming a liability,” Joseph’s voice suddenly switched from the smooth, taunting tone into firm decisiveness. He sounded detached. “He thought he was entitled to more, because he was my son, and when I wouldn’t give it to him, he tried to take it. I’ve worked too long and too hard to be robbed like that. Not even by my own blood.”
Gil just smirked. It wasn’t worth his breath to point out the obvious.
“No, I wanted you to know that I had done it,” Joseph said, the greasy edge coming back as he leaned closer to Gil. “I wanted you to know and not be able to do a thing about it.” He suddenly straightened up.
“But I suppose I should have known you’d be clever enough to work it out,” he continued. “You take after me, after all. God knows you didn’t get your intelligence from your mother.”
Gil erupted. But he didn’t betray it in the slightest. Joseph had said it because he knew barbs against Gil were useless, and had gauged, accurately, the best button to push. He fumed silently for a moment, and then, when he was sure he had mastery of his voice again, he said:
“But I didn’t bring you in, Joseph. I let a rookie CSI do that,” he leaned against the bars, grinning. “I think Mom will laugh when I tell her.” He pushed himself away and started to leave. Just before he got to the door, he turned.
“But maybe you don’t get the joke,” he said.
* * *
“We’ll need a bigger house,” Nick said as soon as the waitress set down their orders and left.
Gil nodded. They’d been talking about it for a while. Gil’s townhouse had been nicer than Nick’s place, which was why they’d picked it when they decided to live together, but even though it had been built to accommodate two people, Gil had made it so thoroughly his in the time he had lived there that there hadn’t been much room for Nick, no matter what concessions he made.
“And we should look into local school systems,” he said. “I’ll ask Catherine.”
“What about private schools?” Nick asked. “I mean, is her hearing going to be an issue?”
Gil shook his head. “It shouldn’t be. Not if we get her a hearing aid.” Nick made a face that said he was sitting on a concern, but not sure how to argue it.
“I want to find the best school possible,” Gil elaborated. “Not just the best school for the deaf.”
Nick laughed. “You mean, the one with the best science program,” he said.
Gil quirked his mouth and lifted his eyebrows. “Among other things,” he said. “I’d like a good music program, too.”
“Music?” Nick asked, growing cautious and confused. “I don’t want to state the obvious here, but…” he trailed off.
“Being hearing impaired doesn’t necessarily compromise the study or performance of music,” Gil said, raising a finger. “Think about Beethoven.”
“Yeah, but not his whole life.”
“No, but he’s not the only example. Evelyn Glennie is a percussion soloist with extreme hearing loss, and she’s quite accomplished. She performs barefoot so she can feel the vibrations from the orchestra.”
Nick shrugged and nodded, conceding the point.
Gil acknowledged the gesture, but continued on his point. “I’ve spoken to music teachers who’ve had deaf students,” he said, taking a bite of his lunch. “I’m told that the students succeed or fail for the same reasons any other child does: motivation.”
He smiled then, and both ate in silence for a few moments. When enough time had passed that the topic felt like it had faded from focus, Gil spoke again.
“And numerous studies have proven that children who participate in music perform better in science and math,” he tossed the thought of quickly, as an afterthought.
Nick didn’t let him get away with it. He laughed at him. “You just want her to follow in daddy’s footsteps,” he accused, lightly, pointing his fork at Gil.
Gil grinned knowingly, partly in response to Nick’s joking accusation, and partly in the inexpertly warm feeling he got at being called Chloe’s daddy. “Well,” he said, evasively, turning his attention back to his salad. “It does have a certain appeal.”
Nick laughed louder.
* * *
“When can I come home with you?” Chloe asked. She would have signed as well - the combination being her way of connecting with both Gil and Nick - except that her hands were full of ice cream. Literally. Melted rivulets were running over her fingers, and Gil hid a smile.
“Well, we don’t have a place to put you yet,” Nick said, always knowing how to answer her in a way that would make sense. “Our house is too small. You’d have to sleep on the floor. In the room with Gil’s bugs,” he added when it looked like Chloe was going to deem sleeping on the floor an acceptable term. She made a face about the bugs, though.
“Ick,” she said, and Gil laughed.
“Don’t say that, you’ll hurt their feelings,” he admonished playfully. Chloe smiled at them.
“Bugs don’t have feelings,” she insisted.
“Don’t they?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Have you ever asked one?” Chloe giggled and shook her head.
“I’ll introduce you to my favorites. Then you can find out,” he said.
* * *
Even with high-profile expediency, the adoption process was lengthy. And involved more paperwork than Gil could ever have conceived of.
“We filled this one out already, didn’t we?” he asked Nick. Nick looked at the form in question.
“You know, I’m not even sure anymore,” he said. For a while, Nick had been good about keeping track of which forms went where, what information needed to be sent to which office and other details that Gil could manage but generally chose not to, on principle, whenever he could. Gil sighed, but finished filing in blanks and signed it.
“I can’t look at another piece of paper today,” he said.
“Okay,” Nick said, leaning back in his chair. “Let’s go shopping.”
House hunting. They’d finally decided on a school - the same one Lindsay attended - and searched out available homes in the area. They visited a number of nice but uninspiring homes, most of which would suit their needs admirably, but none that made any kind of impression on them.
What finally caught Gil’s eye was not a house, but the solarium attached to one of the better candidates. It opened out from the dining room and had high glass ceilings and walls. There were enough trees planted nearby that it would never get unbearably hot, but would still be warm and sunny most of the time.
They didn’t even need to discuss it. Nick watched him while he inspected the room, and met him with a knowing grin as they left the house. Their offer was accepted and they began moving. Nick didn’t ask what had struck him about the solarium, although Gil knew he was curious. He could have explained, but he preferred to show instead.
* * *
“Q, R, S,” he faltered, thinking, then went on, “T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z.” Nick fingerspelled the last letters without hesitation. Chloe applauded.
“Very good Nick,” Gil said, signing as he spoke.
“Thank you,” Nick signed back. “Do I pass?” he asked. Gil smiled.
“Don’t ask me, ask your teacher,” Gil answered.
When they had first visited Chloe at her foster home and explained what would be happening eventually, that she would be coming to live with them, Nick had brought up the subject of learning sign language. Even though the hearing aid now meant that Chloe could communicate with him perfectly well and it wouldn’t be necessary. But he watched Gil and Chloe speak silently to each other, and while he didn’t begrudge them that special, intimate connection, he wanted to be part of it.
Gil had suggested, probably half in jest at the time, that Chloe be in charge of Nick’s lessons. She had instantly liked the idea and taken her job very seriously. Consulting with Gil, she thought long and hard about what things Nick needed to know and in what order they should be covered. Nick wouldn’t be surprised to find out that a lesson plan had been written.
Nick turned a mock serious look on Chloe. “Well, Ms. Hill?” he asked.
Chloe made a show of thinking about it. She looked like a miniature Gil, sweeping her finger across her lips and imitating his best contemplative expression. Nick wondered when she’d picked that up, or if she was emulating him on purpose.
“Okay,” she said, finally, and reached into her backpack. After a moment of searching, she pulled out the coloring book they’d brought her on their last visit. In the back of the book was a sheet of stickers. Chloe peeled one off and held it out.
“What’s that for?” Nick asked.
“When you do a good job, you should get a sticker,” Chloe explained, and Nick valiantly refrained from laughing at the image of a patient, pontificating seven-year-old.
“Well, thank you very much,” Nick said, the picture of seriousness. He reached out to take the sticker. It looked like a cat. But he thought it had a beak. He couldn’t quite tell.
“No, I’ll do it,” Chloe said, and stuck it to his left cheek, just below his eye.
Nick flashed his eyes up to catch Gil’s reaction; daring him to laugh. Gil pressed his fist against his mouth to suppress the laugh, but his eyes were roaring.
“Now you need to learn words,” Chloe said, unaware of the mirth she was causing. “Words like…” she tilted her head back, thinking hard. It was clearly an important decision. “Animals,” she said at last.
Nick nodded fighting the smile in response to her important decision. “Right,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Animals. Let’s get started then.”
“Okay,” Chloe said. She made a V with her first and second fingers and ran them across her face; mouth to jaw. “That means ‘cat,’” she demonstrated again. Nick nodded, not finding it difficult to meet her level of intensity and seriousness, and mimicked the motion back to her.
He flicked his eyes up and caught Gil’s. He recognized that gleeful expression. Gil was watching them with the same attentive, engaged and thoroughly entertained expression that Nick usually saw when Gil was working on an experiment. Or, more accurately, when he was watching a member of his team successfully execute an experiment.
“And if you do this,” Chloe continued. She made the sign for “K” with her hand and repeating the gesture, drawing whiskers on her face. “That means ‘kitten.’” Nick mimicked the gesture, checked with Chloe for approval, and met Gil’s eyes again.
Curiosity, paternal pride, and contentment.
* * *
Renovating the solarium to suit his needs gave him a project while they waited for final clearance on the paperwork that would grant them custody of Chloe. He ripped out the paving stones on the floor, and made several trips to greenhouses choosing small trees, ferns, hostas and a wide assortment of flowers.
Nick spent a little time every day watching with delighted fascination before picking up his books on American Sign Language. While Chloe’s lessons were, in their own way, thorough and useful, they weren’t particularly practical in earning him a conversational fluency.
And, Gil had noted with amusement, Chloe was fond of teaching him the wrong signs on occasion. Gil would, of course, correct him, but not before he let Nick sign “fish” when he meant “book” a few times.
“Ha, ha,” Nick said, invariably when Gil pointed out the error, but Gil could tell that he appreciated the humor. At this point, Gil doubted that Nick was as unaware of Chloe’s deceptions as he pretended to be.
He was a quick study, and could now sign a considerable portion of whatever he said. Which he started doing whenever he spoke to Gil. The others at the lab had looked at them funny the first time they saw it, but had gotten used to it quickly.
Gil had been in ballistics, checking a match that Bobby had made when Nick, on his way home, had tapped on the glass.
“Hurry home,” he signed, without mouthing the words. “Or I’ll come back and jump you here.” Gil raised his eyebrows slowly, and Bobby looked back and forth between them, confused at being left out of the conversation.
“Only if Bobby can watch,” Gil signed back, likewise not moving his mouth. “It wouldn’t be polite to talk about it in front of him and then not invite him.”
Nick rolled his eyes and shook his head. He probably hadn’t understood all of it, but Gil gathered that he’d gotten the gist. Nick waved a hand at him and left, smiling.
“What was that about?” Bobby asked.
Gil shrugged. “Just an advanced lesson. So tell me more about this bullet?”
* * *
“Where’s my room?” Chloe shouted, racing through the door. Gil and Nick looked at each other, both clearly thinking the same thing; It’s really happening. Oh. My. GOD!
“This way,” Gil said, taking her hand and leading her down the hall. They’d recovered as many of her possessions as possible from her former home and had them moved here. Chloe took one look at it and hugged both of them.
“No bugs,” she said. “Good.”
“But I did promise you’d meet them,” Gil said, setting down her suitcase and leading her out of her room. Chloe balked.
“Aw, come on,” Nick prodded. “You’re not scared of a few creepy crawlies, are you?” Gil shot Nick a look that said he wasn’t helping, but Chloe seemed to take it as a personal challenge.
“Okay, where are they?” she asked. Gil lead her through the dining room to the solarium, and her face brightened when she saw the flowers and plants through the sliding glass windows.
After transforming the solarium into a greenhouse, he’d started moving his insect terrariums out into it, and Nick had nodded and laughed, finally understanding.
“We sure this place is sealed off properly?” he had asked, picking up a class case and helping Gil anyway. “If you’re gonna play ‘Wild Kingdom’ out here, I don’t want your pets ending up in my sock drawer.”
Gil had laughed, promising that everything would stay in its terrarium.
They opened the door and something fluttered by Chloe’s head.
“We have butterflies in the house?” she asked, excited.
“We do,” Gil said, opening the door. It had been Nick’s idea to keep them loose. The rest of his collection were built new habitats in the corners; one for each of the tarantulas, another, large arena, for the racing roaches, and a finally, one for the maggot farm. That one was tucked discreetly out of view as a concession to Nick.
“So be careful when you come in here. Don’t let them out,” Gil said.
They closed the door behind them, and Gil led Chloe over to a flowering hibiscus bush that had several butterflies hovering nearby. He dropped into a crouch and pulled Chloe close in front of him. Then he picked one of the largest, brightest flowers and put it in her hand, steadying it in his own.
“Be very still,” he said in her ear. “If you’re patient, one will land on the flower.” It didn’t require much patience. A large blue one landed almost immediately, and Gil felt Chloe’s excited intake of breath.
“Do you see that?” he said. “The way she’s moving?” Chloe nodded. “They smell with their feet.”
Chloe turned to look at him, a thoughtful frown on her face. “They do not,” she said.
Gil smiled. “They do. I promise. Look at it.” She did, but she still didn’t seem convinced.
“It’s pretty,” she whispered.
“It’s a Blue Copper,” Gil said. “You can look at her, but don’t touch her wings. They’re delicate.” Chloe nodded, awestruck, and Gil slowly pulled her hand and the flower closer to her face.
“So whadya think, kiddo?” Nick said softly.
Chloe smiled, but didn’t look away from the butterfly. “I think she has feelings,” she proclaimed. She sounded genuinely happy.
It amazed him that after all she’d been through, after all they’d been through, that this moment could feel so peaceful. He looked up, studying Nick’s expression of awe and contentment and wondered if the same expression was on his own face. He certainly felt it.
Right now Chloe loved life. And it was their job to make sure that it stayed that way for her. That’s what daddies were for.