Title: Attraction
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Nick Stokes
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them
Summary: Gil meets Dr. Teri Miller.

I hadn't realized she's so beautiful.

I've seen her picture more times than I can count, a standard PR black and white photo. In it, her hair is drawn back and her face is expressionless, washed out. In so far as I had ever thought about it, I imagined that a photographer had been trying to do her a favour, clumsily covering imperfections, airbrushing all the character out of her face. I try not to stare, but I'm not doing too good a job of it. She looks up from Boris and catches me at it and she flashes a quick smile.

"Maybe I should introduce myself."

"Teri Miller does not need an introduction," I say, aware that it comes out sounding smarmy, like a bad pick-up line. She seems amused rather than flattered, and looks down at Boris again.

Later, in one of the labs, she takes my hand in hers and guides me in smoothing the moulding gel into the impression left by an unknown woman in the concrete. Even though we're both wearing gloves, I can feel the warmth of her fingers and palm on the back of my hand. Instead of looking down at what I'm doing, I find myself staring at her again. Not many people in the lab wear perfume, but she does and I can smell it, a light, fresh citrus. I want to lean in closer, but she moves away, pouring more gel into the concrete. When she hold up the finished mould, showing it to me in the light, she leans her head towards mine and fine wisps of hair brush against my cheek. It's an effort to back away from her and leave the lab, but I'm too fascinated, both by what she's doing, and by her, to stay away too long, so I come back and sit next to her. She talks easily, explaining her art, and takes my hand in hers once more, to smooth over the clay. I quash the sudden thought that she doesn't always teach this way, that, maybe, this is just for me, her way of telling me something.

When I look at the completed reconstruction of the face and I remember what needs to be done, the case takes over and I'm back to reality. I've almost forgotten about her (almost), but then I see her in the hallway, pulling her wheeled case behind her, obviously leaving, and I react instinctively.

"Hey! You weren't going to say goodbye to me?"

She smiles at me and I smile back. I wonder if she'll give me her personal phone number if I ask for it, but she's a step ahead of me and tells me that she's already left it for me. In the end she doesn't say goodbye but then, neither do I. I stand for a second, looking at the door she walked out of, breathing in a last faint whiff of her perfume. Then I catch up with Nick. The case isn't closed yet.

My first instinct when I see Amy Hendler pointing the gun at Nick is to shoot her right in the back of the head. It's an easy shot. My finger is already tightening on the trigger when I realize that if she doesn't drop instantly, she might still kill Nick. Rage engulfs me, almost chokes my voice when I call her out her name, trying to turn her attention away from Nick. When she turns the gun towards me, I calm down. I can deal with this. I'm aware of Nick in the background and I want to make sure he's alright, but she hasn't let go of the gun yet and I need to stay focused on her. When she finally lowers it, I take it from her and allow myself to look at Nick. His back is turned and his head bent.

"Are you alright, Nick?" I ask and he turns towards me and nods, his eyes swimming. The rage stirs again and even though it's a mere vestige of what I felt before, I want to backhand Amy Hendler, knock her to the ground. I've never raised a hand against anyone, let alone a woman, and the impulse surprises me and makes me ashamed of myself. I look back at Nick as I start to escort her away, but he's turned away again.

In my office when shift ends, I pull the little scrap with Teri's phone number off the corkboard. I trace the numbers, feeling the indentations of the characters on the paper. A slight sound from the doorway and I look up. Nick.

"Hi Grissom. Warrick, Sara and I are going for breakfast. Want to come along? My treat." His smile is strained, his eyes… pleading? I look down at the small piece of paper again, then put it in my pocket.

"Sure."

During breakfast, he doesn't refer to what happened. He shakes his head in disbelief listening to Sara and Warrick's account of Brass' reaction, when they told him about the evidence exonerating officer Tyner. He seems attentive, but I can see his leg jittering. I put my hand on his knee for a second, stilling it, and he glances at me, licking his lips nervously.

Later we stand together in the parking lot. I know what he wants to hear and I can't stop myself from saying it, even though I know this will only make everything more complicated for both of us.

"Come home with me," I tell him quietly.

His eyes fill with tears as he nods jerkily. "Thanks," he says thickly, and I shake my head, feeling guilty.

When I reach for my car key in my pocket, I touch the paper with Teri's number. I look at Nick walking towards his truck, his shoulders squared but looking vulnerable all the same, and without really thinking, I close my fist over the little slip, crumbling it.

When he comes into my arms, I can smell soap and the coffee on his breath, and his fingertips are warm and slightly rough on my cheek. Fleetingly I think of Teri and of how different Nick is, and I wonder what I will do about all this tomorrow, but then he kisses me and, for the moment at least, there are no more decisions to be made.