Title: Setback
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Nick Stokes
Warning: PG
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them
Summary: Ecklie responds to Grissom's request. (Sequel to Waiting)

"Grissom, can I see you in my office?"

Ecklie's voice comes from behind Gil, stopping him in his tracks. He takes a deep breath and turns around. Ecklie is no longer there, but the door to his office is open. Gil walks to the open door and stands just inside of it. His heart is hammering, but he can still put on a poker face when he needs it.

Ecklie is sitting behind his desk.

"Close the door. Have a seat."

Gil slowly sits down, checking himself for "tells". His hands are tightly clenched on the file he's holding, the knuckles white, so he relaxes them. Then he looks at Ecklie.

Ecklie is leaning back in his armchair, his rangy form relaxed, almost imperceptibly swiveling right and left. He looks comfortable and Gil starts to hope that this will be good news.

"I'm sorry, Gil," Ecklie says. "I took this all the way to the top, but your request was denied."

"I see." Gil's hands have tightened their grip on the file again, but he's satisfied that his voice gives nothing away. "And the reason?"

"Officially? There are no free spots at the moment and nobody is due to make a switch."

"Ah. And unofficially?"

Ecklie abruptly stops swiveling and leans forward, his elbows on the desk.

"Unofficially, people like it fine where you are now, Gil. Nobody's willing to put themself out for you."

Despite his efforts to control himself, Gil can do nothing about the anger that starts simmering, heating his cheeks.

"I've done a lot for this department, Conrad," he says. "I've put in a lot of hours, a lot of years in building this lab up. Almost all of them in graveyard. I've never asked for anything until now. People" and here he can't stop the sneer in his voice "owe me this."

Ecklie exhales in frustration.

"Dammit Gil, you just don't get it, do you? You've never asked for anything? Well, you've never given anything either. You've set up this little kingdom for yourself and you look down on the rest of us. You refuse invitations to official dinners and meetings and that's only when you don't simply forget about them. The Sheriff asks you for a favor and you get on your high horse; you only accept if it will help the department, never the person in charge of the department."

Ecklie pauses for a second, then continues more quietly:

"Welcome to the real world, Gil. It's not only about how good your track record is. It's about politics, about scratching the backs of the powers that be, making them feel good. That's who they want around them, that's who they put in visible positions. If you're in graveyard, they don't have to interact with you too often. So that's where they intend to keep you."

"And if I threaten to resign?" Gil asks.

"Well, I'm hoping you won't, but if you do, you'd better be prepared to follow through with it. You're what, 50? I don't think anybody wants to see you here for the next seven or ten years and they've got plenty of people they want to push ahead. You'd be doing them a favor."

Gil nods and gets up.

"I guess that's it then," he says, but it's really an empty phrase, just a way to bring the meeting to a close. He has no idea what he intends to do, he has to think and he can't do that in front of Ecklie.

Ecklie gets up as well and comes around the desk, blocking Gil's exit path.

"Gil, don't do this. Your transfer request's official now, nobody will be able to deny your seniority or track record once a spot opens in day or swing shift. You know it's going to happen. Why the sudden hurry?"

Gil just shakes his head. He has to get out of there.

"Thanks Conrad," he says. "I'll let you know."

Ecklie moves out of the way. Gil leaves the office and walks down the hallway, feeling Ecklie's eyes on his back until he finally turns the corner. Greg zips out of the lab to intercept him.

"Hey, Grissom -"

"Don't talk to me right now," Gil says hotly and walks on, only vaguely aware of Greg stepping back and raising his hands in an elaborate pantomime. For a split second he feels vertigo and the lights go jagged and he knows a migraine headache is imminent. He has to get home. "You heard from Ecklie."

Nick. Grissom rolls onto his back, his right hand holding the phone to his ear, his left forearm covering his eyes.

"Yes, I did," he says.

"Your transfer request wasn't approved."

"No, it wasn't," he agrees.

Both are silent after that; the only way Gil knows that Nick is still on the phone is that he can hear traffic. Nick must be in his truck.

"Are you at home? I want to come over." Despite the assurance of the words, Nick's voice is gruff, uncertain.

Gil considers for a while, listening to the distant honking of a horn over the phone. His head still hurts and he needs to think about what his next move will be. He doesn't really want Nick around.

"Gil?" Nick asks.

Gil doesn't know if Nick is checking to see if he's still on the line or if he's asking for permission to come over. All he hears is the need in Nick's voice and he responds to it instinctively.

"I'm home," he says softly.

As he waits for Nick to show up, he lies there at peace, despite everything. When the doorbell rings he's going to have to get up and decide what he needs to do, but for now he's content just to wait for Nick.