Title: No Right Way
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 ‘Sara’s Return’. Gil tries to deal with the fallout, but he doesn’t see very many options.
A/N: As you probably know, I like to stay close to canon in terms of actual events (most of them anyway!), so I’ve left it open as to whether Warrick survives.

The door swings open after only a peremptory knock and before I have a chance to respond, but Nick doesn’t come in, just stands at the doorway, staring at me.

“What is it?” I ask when it becomes obvious that he’s not going to speak first.

“I’m back. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He disappears as suddenly as he appeared, but he’s broken my concentration. Not that I’ve really been concentrating. This is exactly why I should have never let myself get involved with anybody at the lab. Not with Sara, not with Nick, not with anybody. The lines get blurred and it becomes messy. Uncontrollable. And the hell of it is that neither Sara nor Nick learned not to expect so much from me. They seem to think I’m the one with all the answers, the one who’s always going to do the right thing. When it should be so obvious to them that I’m not. After all, I had an affair with a subordinate. Not once, but twice. I guess that’s the one weakness they were both willing to allow me. Fuck ‘em. I don’t need this shit.

I turn back to the fingerprints report from Warrick’s car. This is what I need to deal with now. The rest can wait. As far as I’m concerned, it can wait until hell freezes over.

“I told him he was lucky and not to ever forget it. Boy, I sure have a talent for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, don’t I?”

“Do you want a drink?”

Brass raises his eyebrows. “I thought I was the one with the medicinal stash.”

I ignore him and reach behind the terrarium for the bottle.

“Clear drinks in bottles without labels make me nervous. Especially in your office.”

I shake the bottle slightly.

“Do you want a drink or not?”

“What the hell. If I don’t know what it is, it can’t kill me.”

He studies the glass I give him and warily sniffs at it.

“It can’t, can it?”

I raise my own glass in a silent toast and toss the drink back. After a second, he copies me.

“One more?”

“God, no. I think this one’s enough to put me over the limit.” He turns serious again. “Do we have anything yet?”

“Not a thing. Not yet. But we’ll get there.”

“I heard Sara’s back in town. Did you call her in to help?”

“No,” I say. “She just showed up.”

“Still, it must be good to have her back, right?”

Is he being sarcastic? No, he just doesn’t know what’s been going on. I guess I was as successful hiding my second affair in the office as I’d been hiding the first.

Along with Catherine, Jim is one of my oldest friends. He never asked me what happened with Sara, and I appreciated his discretion, and the fact that his behavior towards me never changed once it all came out into the open. I didn’t deserve that much. I haven’t always been completely honest with him, but it’s been through omission, rather than directly lying to him and I don’t want to start now.

“I’m not sure,” I say slowly. “Things between her and me weren’t exactly good when she left.”

“Well, now’s your chance to fix things.” He pauses and looks at me. “You want to fix them, don’t you? I mean, it’s probably not the easiest time right now, but still…”

“I’m not sure,” I repeat.

He looks down at his empty glass, then holds it out to me.

“I changed my mind. Pour me another one.”

This time he drinks more slowly.

“Actually this isn’t bad. Do I want to know what it is?”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Listen, Gil, I don’t do this very often, and it’s none of my business, but I’m going to offer an opinion here. Or at least how I see things.”

He leans back in his chair and looks at me.

“You love her, right?”

Do I? I used to think I did. At least I cared very deeply for her.

“OK, don’t answer that if you don’t want to. But I don’t think you’d have compromised both her and your status here for so long if you didn’t.”

I shake my head and he thinks I’m agreeing with him.

“The thing is…” He stops, clears his throat and takes another swig. “Loving someone doesn’t mean they’re automatically right for you. At the very least you have to work at it. Make some compromises.”

“Jim, I’ve been in relationships before, you know. You’re not telling me anything new.”

“No? Well, if you have to work at it too hard, if you have to make too many compromises, then it’s best if you walk away from it. Both for her and for you.”

“So what are you telling me? That I should work at it? Or that I shouldn’t?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know the answer to that. What I know is that in the last two years you changed a lot, and not in a particularly good way, if you don’t mind my saying so. Then she left and after a while we started seeing the old you again.”

“I didn’t think people really appreciated the old me either.”

“And when did you start caring about that?” he asks ironically. He gets up and sets the glass on the desk. “She changed too, you know. And not for the better, either. Anyway, I’d better get going. It’s going to be another long day tomorrow.”

After he leaves, I pour myself another drink. I should go home as well. I guess the fact that I don’t want to says a lot.

“Hey, Gilbert.”

I wish she wouldn’t call me that. I never told her, but the only other person to ever call me Gilbert was my great-aunt; for some reason she never approved of me, and it was obvious every time she said my name. But Sara likes the thought that she has a name for me that nobody else uses.

“Hi.”

She walks over to me and hesitantly puts her arms around me.

“I missed you.”

I hug her to me for a second, then step away from her.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t the one who left.”

She looks stricken.

“I thought you understood. That you’d forgiven me for that.”

I sigh.

“I do. I have.”

I need another drink. I walk to the kitchen and take a beer out of the fridge. Hank follows me, hoping for a snack, and I give him a slice of cheese.

“Sara, why are you back? And why didn’t you call before coming?”

“I thought you might need me.”

“Professionally? Or personally?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. “Both, I guess,” she says finally. “I’m a good CSI. At least you used to think so.”

“You’re a good CSI,” I confirm. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“So I can help you out with the investigation.”

“Ecklie’s the decision-maker on that, not me.”

She knows I’m prevaricating, but she doesn’t call me on it.

“Okay, I’ll talk to Ecklie.”

“And what then?”

“What do you mean?”

“What then?” I repeat slowly. “After the case is closed, one way or another. What then?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. It’s always been up to you.”

“Funny. It never really felt that way.”

“That’s unfair,” she protests and she’s right. It is unfair. To both of us.

“Sara. Were we ever really happy together?”

“Of course we were,” she says, but her voice doesn’t sound very confident. “Not all the time, but that’s normal. I was happy. And I thought you were, too. I wouldn’t have been with you if I didn’t.”

“No. I had just asked you to marry me. You wouldn’t have left if you thought I was happy. Or if I was giving you what you needed.”

She stares at me, her mouth pulling down at the corners, and I can tell she’s trying not to cry. I feel guilty for causing her more pain. This isn’t her fault. I should have broken it off myself once she was gone, rather than leaving everything vague. Hell, I should have broken it off even before she left. I knew I was feeling trapped. Maybe she didn’t.

“I explained that,” she whispers thickly.

I sit on the couch next to her, then put my arm around her and draw her to me. She feels thin and delicate against me. So unlike Nick, I think suddenly.

“I’m sorry, honey. I don’t want to make you sad.”

She burrows into my side, leaning her head against my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, too. I should have called. I just didn’t think.”

We sit silently for a long time. I don’t know what to do. I’m not handling this well, but, for the life of me, I don’t know how to prevent hurting her even more at this point.

“Gil? Can we try again?”

I rub my cheek against her hair.

“I don’t think I can,” I say after a while.

“Is there somebody else?”

My stomach twists as I remember how Nick looked at me when he told me that he was back in the office. Anger I could have dealt with somehow, but what I saw in his eyes was cold dislike, even contempt. Maybe I deserved it. I should have given him some time until he cooled down, not called him and told him to get back to work. But what choice did I have? For better or worse, I’m his supervisor, and we both have a job to do. And he wasn’t the only one who was angry. At least I didn’t assume the worst about him, as he immediately did about me.

“Yes,” I say. “There is.”

“Oh.” She stiffens and pulls away from me, then gets up and starts pacing. Suddenly she swings around to look at me.

“You opened the door.”

“What?”

“You told me you’d given Nick your key, and he gave it me. But you opened the door.”

We stare at each other.

“It’s Nick,” she whispers, her eyes round with disbelief. “My God, it’s Nick!”

“Sara—”

She gestures wildly, cutting me off. “Is it?” she asks.

If it were only me at risk, I might have admitted the truth. Sara knows that in the past I’d been with both women and men, otherwise she’d never have figured it out so easily. But it’s Nick’s professional reputation and integrity that’s at stake as well, not to mention his personal choice not to come out.

“No,” I say firmly. “It’s not Nick.” Even though I’m only denying it for his sake, I suddenly feel as if I’m rejecting him altogether. If he knew, would he feel as hurt as Sara is right now? I don’t know. Ultimately we didn’t have much time together.

“Then...”

“I made a copy of the key after you left. In case something happened and somebody needed to get to Hank. Like today.”

“So why did you tell me you gave Nick your key?”

“Did I say my key? I really don’t remember.” At least that part is true.

She slowly relaxes.

“Maybe not. So who is she?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” I say as calmly as I can. “What difference does it make?”

She crosses her arms against her chest and bends her head.

“None, I guess. Do you need me to leave?”

“Your name is still on the lease.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I think of Nick again, of how he looked at me. Even if I wanted to change his mind about me, even if I succeeded, what good would it do? Sara’s return showed how fragile the whole construct was, how easily it could crumble. Nick and I were never going to last. I can’t even think of what led me to believe at some point that we might.

“I don’t need you to leave. Stay as long as you like,” I say heavily. “I have to get back to work.”

I get up and walk out the door.

“Gil? Shall I talk to Ecklie?”

I stop and look back at her. She hasn’t moved. The truth is that for Warrick’s sake I can’t afford to refuse her help. She’s good at what she does and she’s the only one who knows all the players and yet wasn’t directly involved in all of this, who can look at the evidence with fewer preconceptions than the rest of us.

“No. Just come in. I’ll speak to Conrad.”

She looks up and nods. “Okay,” she says quietly.

I shut the door behind me.