Title: What We Decide
By: Ericalynn
Fandom/Pairing: CSI: Vegas
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #5- Choices on my table
Warning: Adult themes (language and physical confrontations); sequel to "The Lines We Never Cross" and "What We Choose to Ignore"
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm not making money. I'm having fun.
Summary: He felt lost. But more than that, he finally felt the pain that Nick must have been feeling.
<<<<
Nick sat in his truck a block from the diner, his head resting on the steering wheel, fists tightly clenched as he tried desperately to pull himself back together. He couldn't take those looks anymore, the ones Warrick was sending his way. Confusion. Denial. Love. Anger. Those green depths were a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, one never staying on the surface long enough for a decision to be made. So he had made the call, he'd decided which side of the fence he was gonna play on. He made the tough decision so Warrick wouldn't have to. He didn't want to be the cause of Warrick's rocky marriage taking the final plunge.
So he'd walked away. Walked out to his truck without any regret. He'd even started it up and pulled out into traffic, heading for the lab, when it hit him. He was blindsided so suddenly by it, like a sucker punch to the gut, that he had to pull over lest he cause an accident. The carefully put together mask shattered in an instant and he was left shaking and struggling to breathe through the sobs that tore through his chest. Somehow he'd made it safely into the parking lot of a grocery store, but that's as far as he'd gotten. He couldn't hold it back anymore, emotions too long pent up burst free, crashing, wave after wave upon him until there was nothing left. No tears, no sobs, not even an inkling of anger or sorrow. He was empty.
Swallowing hard he willed his hands to stop shaking and his breathing to even. He scrubbed the tear tracks off his face and took a deep breath before starting his truck. Surprisingly he was only a twenty minutes late for shift. Part of him wanted desperately just to call Grissom and plead sick, then go home and crash on the couch since the bed was no longer an option. But once again his good sense kicked in and as he approached the stop light, turned right, heading for the lab. With any kind of luck it would be slow and he wouldn't have to be anywhere near Warrick.
<<<<
He sat for a few more minutes in the booth, stunned. He tried to go over what had just happened but he could come up with nothing that prompted Nick's actions. Well, he could think of one thing. And as much as he wanted to keep that skeleton hidden as far back as he could bury it, he knew that it needed to come out into the open. He was no longer able to deny that there was something between them. The last few looks Nick had sent him before he bolted out of the diner told him that.
There had been a look of longing, of pure, unbridled desire. That was the look he'd seen on Nick's face when they'd ‘argued' at Nick's house. It was intimate and beautiful and Warrick had the fortune of seeing that rare side of him. He'd also seen hurt that night. And it pricked like a barb beneath his skin that he was the one to put that look in those soft eyes. And it hurt even worse to know he could have taken that look away with a word or a touch, yet he'd been too afraid to do so. And Nick's eyes held truth. For once everything he was feeling was written for the world to see. He put it all on the line, exposed his heart only to have Warrick stomp on it.
Sighing, he hung his head in his hands. He stared down into his coffee mug, but what he saw was Nick and that last little look. His brow crinkled in determination, his eyes slightly glassy with the promise of on-coming tears. He could clearly see that last message, a look of defeat taking prominence over pretty much every other readable expression, except one. And that one was what scared Warrick the most.
He'd seen love there. But it wasn't the brotherly love he'd convinced himself it was all those years ago. No, he could no longer deny that Nick loved him, loved him enough to be used and not say a damn word about it. Nick loved him enough to be kicked to the curb for a woman Warrick hardly knew and barely loved. Nick loved him enough to take the decision out of his hands. And Nick loved him enough to try and force hate and anger into his eyes just to make it a little easier on Warrick, even though they both knew those emotions were entirely false.
If he hadn't been in a public place, Warrick would have smacked himself outright. But he had to settle for a mental beating instead, hoping it would do the job. How could he have been so stupid? He'd had everything he ever wanted right in his arms, numerous times he sarcastically reminded himself. And yet he'd let his pride, his damn ego, get in the way. Too many times had he let Nick down, let himself down. But he was determined that there wasn't going to be another. He didn't care how long it would take, how far he'd have to run, the number of hoops he'd have to jump through, he was going to talk with Nick Stokes. But not only was he going to talk, he was going to make the man listen. He was going to make Nick understand once and for all where he stood, married or not.
<<<<
He wasn't sure whether it was karma or good judgment on Grissom's part, but he hadn't seen Nick all night. Okay, well he'd seen him but never had the opportunity to talk with him. And given Nick's attitude toward him, he was beginning to think he was gonna be making another trip to Nick's house after shift. At least in private they could scream at each other, holding nothing back until this was cleared up. Here at the lab they had to talk cryptically and key down their emotions.
When he'd arrived at the lab at the beginning of shift, he'd taken his time in the locker room to get ready. He thought Nick was already there, so he was running things over in his head, like how he was going to get Nick to at least be civil with him, while he loaded and checked his gun. And he tried to think of how he was going to tell Nick his decision while he idly toyed with some of the equipment in his case. Warrick was paying very little attention to anything really, especially to Greg and Sara chatting by their lockers. That was, he'd paid them no mind until one of them called out a greeting to Nick.
Warrick's head snapped up to look at the man standing in the doorway. His blood froze at the sight of Nick. If he thought the man looked bad at the scene, he looked ten times worse now. His eyes even more blood shot with faintly visible tear tracks running down his cheeks. He looked as if he'd just tried to wipe them away before entering the building. And that's when Warrick realized that Nick was late, 48 minutes late to be exact. Guilt once again flooded over him as he realized that he was the reason Nick looked they way he did and was the reason the man was late for work.
He nodded a weak greeting at his partner while he tried to reshuffle his mind. He'd expected pain and resentment to radiate from the man. But he'd never expected the anger that seemed to come off him in waves. Even Sara and Greg sensed the tension as their chatting nearly died on their lips. With two quiet snicks of their lockers, they were out of there. Warrick barely noticed. He was focused on Nick who was now shuffling through his bag searching for a new shirt.
"Nick, I-" but the piercing gaze he got stopped him in his tracks. He stood up and quietly moved behind his friend. "Listen, I wanted to apologize for what happened-"
Nick tossed his bag in his locker, not even bothering to change. He turned to face Warrick for a moment, eyes smoldering with anger. But just below the surface . . . was pain. So maybe anger was easier for Nick to deal with than pain, or maybe it was an easier mask to keep up in public. Whatever it was, Warrick knew that no matter what he did, Nick could never be truly this mad with him. At least he hoped.
So he let his placating hand fall to his side and the apology die on his lips. He'd give Nick his space; he'd give him until the end of shift to get himself in order. But then they were talking. They'd hash this out if it was the last thing Warrick did as a living man. He backed off, watching as Nick turned on his heel and stalked out of the locker room, nearly bowling Catherine over in the process. He never even took his gun Warrick noticed belatedly.
"Whoa! What's his deal?" Catherine, after clearing out of Nick's path, stepped into the locker room. She could clearly see the look of defeat on Warrick's face and put a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Something wrong between you two?"
Warrick smirked. If only she knew! "Yeah, we had it out at a scene this afternoon. Guess he's still pissed at me." He tried to shrug it off, tried to take it in stride like he normally would, but he suddenly didn't have the energy to do so. So instead, he turned to Nick's locker, using the combination he knew by heart to get in and grab his partner's gun. Sure, Nick may be mad at him, but there was no reason for him to forget himself and go off to a scene half-cocked. There'd be no decision left to make if Nick got himself killed.
When he walked into the break room, he walked straight to Nick, trying to act nonchalant when he handed the man his gun. Nick did his best to glare daggers at him before he slammed the weapon onto the table, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair as if everything were fine in the world. Immediately everyone was aware of the tension between the two. Even Grissom eyed them for a moment before turning back to the assignment slips.
He thought he knew the reaction he'd get, but decided to give it a go anyway. He slid the chair next to Nick out and went to sit down next to him. The reaction he guessed couldn't have been more wrong. Nick growled deeply in his throat as he shoved his chair back and stalked over to the sink. He made a show of getting coffee as he once again had all eyes on him and his strange behavior. But no one questioned him about it.
Grissom sent them to opposite ends of the strip on different calls and they'd only passed in the halls twice, once on the way to the morgue and once on the way to the break room. Other than that, Warrick hadn't seen nor heard anything from the man. Until now that was. Nick was sitting in front of his locker, fingers idly toying with the clip on his keychain as Warrick entered.
<<<<
Nick had waited until everyone else had vacated the locker room before he slumped down on the bench. He thought portraying anger would be easier than trying to act normal. But he was wrong. His reactions were true at first. He was pissed off the Warrick had tried to apologize, had tried to smooth things over after everything that had happened. And he was pissed that Warrick had acted like his father instead of his best friend when he came into the break room and handed him his gun. Or maybe it was the fact, Nick realized, that Warrick was suddenly paying attention to his every detail that had his blood raging. Whatever it was, he'd had to keep it up even when Warrick tried to sit next to him, especially because that's all he wanted.
When Warrick passed him going to the morgue, he'd given him the cold shoulder, looking through the file in his hands rather than his friend's face. It was hard to keep up the pretense when the hurt returned. Then when Warrick had tried to flag him down outside the break room it was even harder as all he wanted to do was act like nothing had happened.
So he sat in the locker room, fiddling with his key chain and trying to decide what to do. He knew that if he stayed here any longer he'd eventually run into Rick again. But it was a chance he was gonna have to take because at the moment he didn't have the energy to move. And a few minutes later, that's exactly what happened.
"Hey Nick." Warrick's voice was unusually subdued as he walked to his locker. He all but threw himself down onto the bench but made no move to open his locker. In his head he was running over what he wanted to say. And as much as he wanted to glance over to Nick and check up on him, he didn't. He knew that would throw everything out the window. "You wanna catch some breakfast?"
Nick's jaw tightened at the invitation, though whether it was to keep the tears or the screams in, he wasn't quite sure. Just like he wasn't sure what to feel when Warrick was suddenly sitting next to him, his hand cupping the back of his neck. Nick wanted desperately to lean back into Rick's warmth, letting it ease the tension in his sore muscles. Instead he pulled away, standing up and pretending to look for something in his bag instead. The heavy sigh that Warrick let out nearly tore him to shreds but he held his ground, doing his best to ignore the man's presence.
"Nick, we have to talk about this man." He wasn't mad at Nick. He understood why Nick was doing this. But when he was met with silence, he couldn't control the anger that suddenly bubbled through him. Pulling himself up from the bench, he turned and slammed his fist into his locker. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nick freeze but whatever emotions came forth were quickly masked as he once again packed up his stuff.
He hated that he did it, and regretted it every second after the fact, but in that moment of anger he never thought about the consequences. Warrick grabbed Nick by his shoulders and shoved him roughly against the lockers, pinning him there in a bruising grip. He'd also never thought about the fact that Nick was a cop once and could easily turn the situation around. Which is exactly what he did when he used one hand to knock Warrick's hand off his shoulder as the other fist came up and caught Warrick in the jaw.
Warrick stumbled back a step more in shock that the force of the blow. He just stared at Nick for a moment, unable to completely comprehend how it had escalated to this. "What the fuck is your problem man?!"
"What's my problem? What's your problem Rick?!" Nick stepped closer to Warrick, giving the man a little shove with each word until he had Warrick backed up against the lockers. "What right to do you have to act like my fuckin' guardian angel, making me look like a fool in front of the team?! What right to you have to come in here acting like everything is good between us when you damn well know its not! Who the hell are you to shove me around because you can't take what you dish out?!"
By now, Nick was red in the face, his breathing harsh as he got within a few inches of Warrick's face. Though he was shorter, Nick stretched to his full height, making sure they were eye to eye. And he never wavered, never backed down an inch as he kept one hand firmly planted on Warrick's chest.
It took a minute Warrick to re-collect himself. Nick had hit him and suddenly all his anger was gone. He felt lost. But more than that, he finally felt the pain that Nick must have been feeling. He swallowed thickly as he slumped back against the lockers. "Nick," he shook his head, not exactly sure what to say anymore. "I'm sorry." He dared to look into those raging brown eyes, knowing he deserved everything that Nick could possibly throw at him and more. "I just want to work this out. I want-"
"No Rick." Nick grabbed Warrick's left wrist, bring the hand between their faces so Warrick could see what had been haunting Nick since that first night. A little gold band. "You made your decision Rick. I hope you can live with it."
