Without Windows or Doors : Chapter 2/? (Gil/Nick)
Title: Without Windows Or Doors: Chapter 2/?
Author: laurelgardner
Rating: PG-13 for now
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Summary: Comfort fic, post Grave Danger. Gil discovers that the real work has just begun
Author's Note/Warnings: SPOILERS if you haven't seen the episode. Don't worry, dear friends abroad, it'll be waiting for you in the archives once you do.
Disclaimer: CSI belongs to Anthony Zuiker, and if he wants to sue me, I hope he at least has the decency to do it in person so I can get his autograph.
Chapter 1
When he asked Catherine about Nick, she seemed eager to discuss the subject.
"I talked to him yesterday," she said, "he seemed...subdued. Could you hand me those tweezers?"
He was helping her sort through dried plant matter, separating it. Swing shift was feeling the pinch caused by Nick's leave of absence. Or rather, they would be feeling it if Gil's team hadn't instinctively stepped in. Sometimes, like now, it was as simple as lending a hand with the busy work.
These days, Gil liked the tedium, when he could get it. It left his mind free to think his own thoughts, most of which were still inextricably connected to the events of the previous week. He wondered if it was any different for anyone else in the lab.
Locating the tweezers on the countertop, he placed them in Catherine's outstretched palm.
"Subdued?" he asked.
"Yeah," said Catherine, bending to her task. "But whaddya expect?" She shrugged. "There's a lot of stuff going through his head right now," she added, speaking through a sigh.
"Oh yes?"
She looked at him as though he'd just expressed surprise in hearing that the sky was blue.
"Well...yeah." Her words were an ironic laugh. "Wouldn't you?"
"What I'd be thinking and what's on Nick's mind right now are probably two very different things," said Gil.
"Yeah, well," said Catherine, "that's no surprise."
Grissom didn't comment on this remark. Instead, he asked:
"Has he said anything about work?"
"Oh, well," said Catherine, "He says he's definitely coming back. Says he's looking forward to it, actually. Just...not yet."
"Uh-huh. We'll see what he says in a month."
"What," said Catherine, "you don't think he'll be able to handle it?"
"I didn't say that."
A heavy silence passed between them.
"Seriously, Gil," said Catherine, and her voice was quiet now, somewhat pleading. "Do you think he's gonna be okay?"
He knew it wasn't the response she was looking for, but he simply said, "I hope so."
* * * * *
Sara, on the other hand, he didn't even have to ask. He simply had to process a carpet with her, and she talked of her own volition, telling him about her visit with Nick.
"So I was a complete idiot," she was saying, not looking up from the patch of floor illumined beneath her ALS. "I just cried at him."
"Huh," said Gil, appreciating the humor.
"It wasn't what I meant to do," she added.
"He'll remember that you came, Sara. That's what matters." He spotted something then, hidden amongst the beige fibers, and seized it with his tweezers.
"Hey," he said, "I think I found some glass." He straightened up and started to dig a bindle from his vest pocket.
Sara dropped the hand holding her light and placed the other one on her hip. She gave him an accusing look. "I don't get you," she said.
"So what else is new?" Gil retorted, not missing a beat. He spared her only a glance as he slid his findings into their brown paper casing.
"This is all just another week in the life for you, isn't it?" Sara continued. "Was Nick...just another case for you?"
He gave her a hard look over the top of his goggles.
"Okay," she said, deflating. "Sorry...I know, he wasn't. But how can you be like this?"
Grissom sighed. Slowly, he removed his orange glasses, switched off his ALS and set id down.
"Sara," he said, "Most of the time, our job is about closure. It's about finding the truth long after it's too late to do anything about it. But sometimes, it's about saving someone. And we can't always know which kind of case we're on, or whether or not time is on our side."
"You mean, the way we knew with Nick."
Grissom nodded.
Sara looked at him with an odd sort of pitying expression, the one she usually reserved for victims. "It never stops for you, does it?"
Gil pulled his goggles back on. He picked up his light.
"No," he said. "It doesn't."
* * * * *
He didn't talk to anyone else about Nick, but he listened and watched. Most of the time, that was all he had to do.
From his vantage point at a computer across the hall, he watched the end of an interesting conversation between Greg and Warrick.
"So how's Tina these days?" Greg asked.
An uncomfortable expression passed over Warrick's face.
"Ah," he said, "she split. Couple of days ago."
"Really? What'd she do that for?"
Warrick shrugged. "She'd never been to hot about the whole 'cop' side of what I do." He leaned in closer to Greg. "I guess she didn't like the idea of that coin flippin' the other way any more than I did."
Greg was silently stunned.
"Better sooner than later," Warrick said, then neither spoke for a moment. Then Warrick asked, "You seen Nick, yet?"
Now it was Greg's turn to look uncomfortable. "No. Not since he left the hospital."
"You waiting for an invitation?"
As far as Gil could tell, Greg didn't answer.
* * * *
It sounded like Sara's voice outside his office.
"He's here? Now?"
"He just stopped by for a minute while the shifts overlap." Greg's voice speaking to her as they walked. "I thought you'd want me to find you."
"You're damn right!"
Gil listened as the sounds of their voices and footsteps faded. He sat for a moment, motionless except for the tap of a pen against his own thumb. Then he stood up, and slowly closed every one of the blinds of his windows. He propped his door wide open, then returned to his desk.
He didn't have long to wait. Twenty minutes later, a knock on his doorframe brought him out of his work.
"Grissom?"
He looked up. The man standing in his doorway looked both better and worse than the last time Gil had seen him. He was clean now, and calm, but tired, and perhaps a little thin. His skin was clear, but pale, and the fear that Gil had last seen gripping every inch of his body had now settled itself only in the deepest part of his eyes.
But Gil was glad to see him. So glad. He smiled warmly.
"Hello, Nick."