Title: Isolation
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: CSI and its characters do not belong to me. I write and post for fun only.
Summary: Sequel to “Nick Interrupted”.

Even at his most modest, he’d never considered himself a fool. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’s never taken pride in being intelligent, it would be like being proud of having blue eyes or curly hair, but he used to give himself credit for behaving intelligently and for making logical choices in life. And although he’s never particularly cared about what most people think of him, he's always tried to do the right thing. He’s played by all the rules, at least by the important ones. So how the hell did he end up in this situation? Hurting the people that mean most to him? On the verge of either causing more harm or throwing away everything he’s so painstakingly built over the years?

Hubris. Overestimating his abilities, his control over fate and the circumstances. Over the years he’s won so many battles, both personal and professional, that he thought he could keep on winning and winning. Sure, he made compromises along the way, but he’s never thought of them as compromises so much as tactics on his way to winning the ultimate prize.

‘So here you are, Dr Grissom, esteemed entomologist, supervisor in the best police crime lab in the US,’ he thinks, staring at half-shaven face in the mirror. ‘Here you fucking are. You’re never going to run the lab you’ve helped build, despite your string of successes. You’ve screwed up every personal relationship you’ve ever been in and the one you now want, you’ve made sure you can’t have. You’re middle-aged, in worse shape than you’ve ever been in your life, and when it counts the most, you’re a coward. Enjoy the ultimate prize, whatever the hell that is.’

Sighing, he finishes shaving and goes into the bedroom to dress. Mid-life crises are all very well and good, but he still has to go to work.

Over the years, he’s developed a sort of sixth sense for when Nick is around. He recognizes his step in the hallway, can distinguish his voice among others through a closed door. He’s not sure when it started, probably around the time Nick came back to work after his abduction, but even the two years Gil was with Sara, he always knew where Nick would be if he needed him, or if he wanted to avoid him. As he parks his car outside the lab, he glances at the rearview mirror just in time to see Nick’s truck drive by. Nick pulls into a space a few cars over from where Gil’s parked. Gil thinks of stalling for a few minutes longer, so that they don’t meet outside the building, but he needs to see Nick, assure himself that everything is OK. Whatever that means these days. So he gets out and waits next to his car.

He watches Nick climb out of his truck and slam the door shut, then just stand there, hand on the door handle, his head bent. After a few seconds, Nick takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and turns purposefully towards the lab entrance. Although their arrival has coincided many times over the years, Gil doesn’t think he’s ever seen Nick do that before. Hasn’t seen or just hasn’t noticed, he now wonders. He knows Nick isn’t aware of him, and he decides that it’s probably better that way; he understands enough about Nick to know that he wouldn’t want any observers to these last few moments, least of all Gil.

Nick is almost at the door, when he abruptly stops and turns around. He doesn’t scan the parking lot, but looks straight at Gil, as if he knows that Gil has been there all the time. It’s getting dark, so Gil can’t make out Nick’s expression, and he feels uncomfortable not knowing what Nick is thinking.

“Hey, Grissom,” Nick says. He sounds subdued, but otherwise not unfriendly.

“Nick.” Gil walks towards the entrance as well. “How are you feeling?” he asks, conscious of others around. Nick merely shrugs and falls into step with Gil. They enter the building together, but while Gil turns right, towards his office, Nick turns left towards the locker room, without saying goodbye. Gil wants to look back, but he doesn’t.

After he’s handed out the assignments, he stays in his office, ostensibly dealing with paperwork. He’s always been able to fully concentrate on even the most boring and meaningless tasks, but not tonight. He wishes he was ten years younger. Hell, even two and a half years younger would do. Two and a half years would put him back before his relationship with Sara and before he painted himself into the proverbial corner.

Anyway, there’s no point in wishing that things were different, or that, if he was going to compromise his professional integrity anyway, he’d done it for a relationship with Nick instead of with Sara. No point in wishing that he could undo the past, or that he’d been braver, or that he had understood Nick better and seen a chance where he’d thought none existed. No point in wishing that he could now painlessly settle for less than what he wants.

He feels restless, trapped. He shoves the file away and gets up from the desk, but he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Part of him wants to go and find Nick, just to be near him, but that would serve no good purpose. In fact it would make things more difficult for both of them. Sitting next to Nick in his apartment two days ago, holding his hand, knowing how utterly he had failed him, he realized that if he allowed something deeper to evolve between them, it would only end up causing Nick more harm. Despite what Nick might think, he doesn’t need somebody like Gil beside him. He needs somebody with a clean slate, somebody who is unafraid to set aside the past and who is willing to take a leap into the unknown.

Consciously Gil would do pretty much anything for Nick: give up his job, submit himself to the ridicule of people who would say that Grissom can’t keep his hands off his young attractive subordinates and takes advantage of the pedestal they place him on, lie again to Ecklie and to the Sheriff. And then what? Gil knows himself. He’d have even less to offer Nick than he does now. Worse, he’d drag Nick down with him. True love overcoming all obstacles and happy-ever-after endings only happen in fairy tales. In real life, you just lie on the bed you’ve been making for yourself over the last fifty years and you stop crying about it.

He sits back at his desk and opens another file.

At home, Hank greets Gil enthusiastically, as if he hasn’t seen him for years. He runs off to get his leash, then comes back and sits in front of Gil, his tail wagging expectantly. Guilty as Gil feels for leaving the dog alone for so many hours, he’s also glad nobody has responded to the ad yet. He drops his car key on the table and attaches Hank’s leash. Some exercise, even the kind where Hank is either eagerly pulling him forward, in his effort to explore the next lamp post, or yanking him backwards, in order to bark at something only he sees, is better than sitting at home and brooding.

On the way back, Gil unclips the leash from Hank’s collar as he always does, allowing the dog to run the last block to the house. Hank takes off at a gallop, barking, and too late Gil sees somebody standing at his front door. Shit. Hank has never been an aggressive dog, but Gil doesn’t know how he’ll react to a stranger in his territory, or how the stranger will react to Hank. He starts to run.

“Hank! Come here, boy,” he yells without much hope, and sure enough, Hank doesn’t even slow down. “Hank!” he yells again, just as Hank launches himself at the man, and Gil is now close enough to see that it’s Nick.

All Nick has time to do is brace himself and put up his forearm in an effort to protect his face and throat, before the weight of Hank slams him back against the door. They go down together and Hank backs up, his head down, growling, but he doesn’t attack again. He looks back at Gil and wags his tail, then turns back to growl at Nick again. Gil gets close enough to grab onto his collar, then stays bent over, his free hand on his knee, gasping for breath.

“You alright?” he asks Nick breathlessly.

Nick slowly scoots back, until he’s out of reach, and nods warily.

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” he says.

Gil’s not sure if he should praise Hank or reprimand him. In the end he settles for petting him on the head in an effort to calm him down. “Yeah. This is Hank.”

“So I gathered,” Nick says. He gets up and takes a step closer and Hank growls again.

This time Gil jerks back on his collar. “Hank! Sit.”

Hank seems puzzled, but stops growling and sits down, looking alert. Gil fishes in his pocket for his key and tosses it to Nick. “Here, why don’t you open the door? He should be OK once we’re all inside.”

“If you say so,” Nick says doubtfully, but he opens the door and stands back, letting Gil and Hank through first. Once inside, Hank heads for his water dish, losing interest in the interloper.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Gil asks Nick again as he shuts the door.

“Yeah, fine.” Nick looks down at his palm, and Gil sees it’s grazed, but Nick just brushes it against his jeans and then sticks his hand in his pocket.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m good.”

They stand looking at each other, an awkward silence building between them. Nick is a little flushed, and Gil notices that his sleeve is torn slightly, probably from where Hank first latched on.

“I’m sorry,” he says, motioning towards Nick’s arm, but Nick shrugs dismissively.

“No problem. How long have you had Hank?”

“We got him a year ago,” Gil answers and as Nick’s expression grows shuttered, he realizes what he’s said. “Nick—” he starts to say, but Nick interrupts him.

“I needed to see you,” he says roughly.

Gil falls silent, not knowing how to respond. Hank wanders out of the kitchen and pushes his wet nose into Gil’s hand, and Gil pets him, pulling a little on his silky ears. It’s meant to soothe Hank, but it makes Gil feel better, as well.

“Ok,” he says finally.

Nick looks around. “There’s not much of Sara here, is there?” he asks.

“No.” There never was, he wants to tell Nick, but it seems disloyal to Sara. Whatever happened between them, she doesn’t deserve him dismissing her like that.

Nick shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“No,” Gil repeats.

“The thing is…” Nick starts in a strained voice, then stops and swallows audibly. “The thing is, Gil, that I feel like it is.”

“No,” Gil says a third time. “Sara, the way I feel about her… that has nothing to do with you. Or how I feel about you.”

He instantly regrets having added that last part. Maybe it’s better if Nick thinks that Gil still has unresolved feelings about Sara. Maybe he’ll back off. But he’s rejected Nick too often over the years, if not on purpose, then through omission. He doesn’t want to do that anymore, even if it might be kinder at this point.

Nick’s lips twitch downward and he frowns.

“How you feel about me,” he almost sneers, startling Gil.

“Nick—”

“I’m tired, Gil. All this makes me very tired. It’s not your doing and it’s certainly not your fault, but I’m sick of it.”

“Sick of what?”

“This. Us.” Nick points at Gil. “You. Sometimes I’m sick of you.”

“You didn’t have to come here to tell me that,” Gil says, sudden anger covering his confusion. “If you’re sick of me, just stay away. In fact, if you want to quit, quit.”

He can see that Nick is angry as well, his brown eyes blazing.

“I don’t want to quit,” Nick almost shouts and Hank suddenly growls, reminding them both of his presence. “I don’t want to quit,” Nick repeats more quietly. “I want you. At least I want a chance at you.”

Gil shakes his head.

“I understand, Gil,” Nick says, his tone gentler. “I know I’m wrapped in myself and my own problems a lot, but I understand perfectly. I know all the reasons you don’t want to get involved; work, what people will say about you or about me if they find out, even the fact of whether we should hide or be open about anything that happens between us.”

Gil is still shaking his head, and Nick reaches out and touches his cheek.

“I know you’re trying to do the right thing for both of us. I even agree that it’s the right thing and that we should both know better. I understand all that.”

‘So why are you here then?’ Gil thinks. ‘Why are you making all of this so difficult?’ He doesn’t know if it’s fear or the futility of it all that keeps him from asking the questions out loud. He feels the warmth of Nick’s fingers trace his cheek and he simply stands there, waiting for Nick to continue.

But Nick doesn’t continue. Instead he leans closer and kisses Gil. It’s tender, and at first Gil doesn’t respond, but then he opens his mouth and almost tentatively touches Nick’s lips with his tongue and Nick’s hot breath fills his mouth and suddenly they’re pressed against one another, kissing hungrily.

Gil moans in protest when Nick finally lifts his head.

“But I also understand this,” Nick whispers. “And as far as I’m concerned, to hell with everything else.”

Gil stares into Nick’s brown eyes and what he sees there excites him and scares him in equal measure.

“What about you, Gil?” Nick asks.

“I can’t… We can’t…” Gil says, and even to his own ears, his voice sounds strained and uncertain.

“We can,” Nick interrupts him firmly. “I promise you, we can.”

Hank suddenly gives a short bark, startling them apart, but Nick doesn’t allow Gil to break eye contact. “See, Hank agrees, and he doesn’t even like me,” he says, and Gil laughs shakily.

“I think he’s reminding me that he wants his supper.”

Nick smiles. “We can,” he repeats, then kisses Gil again, a short hard kiss that doesn’t give Gil the opportunity to respond. “Just think about it.”

Nick has opened the door before Gil makes up his mind and finds the courage to speak.

“Nick.”

Nick looks back at him. “Yes?”

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I’m not really hungry,” Nick says slowly, but he’s smiling.

“Stay anyway,” Gil says, his heart thumping.

“You’re sure?” Nick asks.

“About you staying right now? Absolutely,” Gil answers without hesitation. “About everything else? Not really.”

Nick closes the door and walks back to Gil, his eyes dancing. “Like I said, Gil, to hell with everything else.”