Pedestal

Disclaimer: If I owned CSI it'd be called NSI: Nick Stokes Investigation

Back to work a few days after the Nigel Crane incident, Nick was nearly back up to full speed. He was well-rested at Warrick's for the time-being, and his minor injuries were healing nicely. Except that he was plagued with a constant throbbing headache which he tried, literally, to push to the back of his head. He wanted nothing more than to focus on his work, 'get his life back together' ,as they said in shows, and not slip up in his cases. Especially when he was working this case with Grissom.

He headed to the print lab to get results on the prints he pulled from the victim's bed.

"A match to the neighbour, Sean Connors." Jacqui beamed at him, and Nick perked up considerably. This homicide was beginning to look like a straightforward open-and-close case.

Nick thanked her, took the report, and went to Grissom's office to share this information.

Grissom was standing by his desk, reading a report of his own.

"Hey, Gris." Nick rapped lightly on the door. Grissom barely looked up from his own report.

"Blood found at the foot of the bed was a mix of the victim's and his neighbour's," Grissom started, straight on with business, as usual.

"Sean Connor's? Ditto on the fingerprints." Nick concurred.

Nick flipped through his own report, seeing if he had anything else that was useful while Grissom continued, "Apparent, Sean Connors had a beef with our vic. A couple of weeks ago, other neighbours reported heated arguments which escalated into fist fights..."

The words in Nick's report started to do some sort of weird dance in his eyes- blurring in and out of focus and swimming around the page.

Please, not now, Nick pleaded with his brain. Not in front of Grissom, he begged, as he squeezed his eyes shut for a second. He tried to push the onslaughter of dizziness away, like he'd been doing often in the last few days.

But Nick knew the concussion was gaining on him when he re-opened his eyes and saw grey dots in the report, instead of words. He had to sit down, and fast, if not he might end up passing out or throwing up -or both- in front of Gil Grissom.

"Gris, uh, can I sit down?" Nick interjected, hating but having to cut off his boss mid-sentence. Grissom looked up from his own report to see a frightfully pale and unsteady Nick.

"Sure, Nick," Grissom responded after a moment's bewilderment. He was fine a minute ago, Grissom thought to himself as concern prickled his skin. Now he looked as though a slight push would send him tumbling to the ground.

Nearly at the exact same time, Nick dropped his now-shut folder on Grissom's desk and sank heavily into the nearer of two chairs facing Grissom's.

Nick's eyes were squelched shut, breathing heavily- almost panting, swallowing repeatedly, his both hands gripping either side of the chair fiercely until his knuckles blanched white, as though he would fall out of the chair if he didn't grab on for support.

"Nick? Are you all right?" Grissom queried as a tinge of worry seeped into his voice. "D-Dizzy," Nick ground out after a moment, eyes still tightly shut.

"Put your head in between your knees," Grissom instructed gently. Nick obeyed, almost instinctually, and slowly lowered his head towards his lap. He cradled his face in both hands and tried to take deep, slow breaths. If he wasn't feeling so unwell he would have been flushed with embarrassment.

After a few minutes passed, Nick felt the ground begin to steady under his feet. He lifted his head gingerly, only to meet the intense blue eyes of Gil Grissom, crouched beside him.

"Feeling better?" Grissom asked. "Yeah," Nick answered in earnest. The room had almost stopped spinning completely and the fog in his head was clearing. "and I'm-I'm sorry.."

"Don't be, Nick." Grissom cut in. "You know this is probable, if not inevitable, after a concussion, right?"

Nick nodded slightly. His doctor had warned him after all, just before he was discharged.

"I'll be right back," Grissom said, leaving Nick alone with his growing humiliation in his office. How's that, nearly fainting in Grissom's office? Nick chided himself as red swept into his previously pale cheeks. Covering his eyes with one hand, Nick felt as though he couldn't face Grissom now.

Grissom returned a minute later with a streaming mug of fragrant coffee. "It's not hot cocoa, but it'll do," he said with a smile as he handed Nick the brimming cup. "Greg's blue Hawaiian," Grissom assured as Nick peered curiously at the thick black liquid.

Nick lifted the mug to his lips and inhaled the refreshing aroma.

"Oh, and I put extra sugar in it. It'll get your blood sugar level back up nicely." Grissom added. Nick took a sip of the coffee and felt the welcoming warmth spread down his throat as he swallowed.

"Thanks, Grissom." Nick offered a tentative smile to show his gratitude. Grissom smiled right back, only more confidently than Nick.

"I'll be waiting in the car for you, Nick. I've called Brass to meet us at the suspect's house," Grissom said, heading out of his office. "Oh, and Nick? No hurry to meet me at the car. I've got to rush some paperwork first." Grissom added casually as he stopped by the door.

Nick smiled genuinely into his coffee cup before taking another sip. Today, he hadn't messed up in front of his boss like he worried every day that he came to work. Instead he found a friend in his boss, and Gil Grissom seemed to take a step down the pedestal that Nick had raised him on.

FIN