FIC: Before the Dawn 9/?
Sep. 13th, 2005 09:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
astralisCSI fic, Nick/Sara
The first thing Warrick thought was that Nick looked guilty. Not mildly guilty, or guilty in a self-satisfied, cat who got the cream kind of way, but the guilt of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Or the deaths of two young girls.
"Hey man," he said, entirely inadequately. What did you say? He thought Nick had been an absolutely stupid idiot, and so, for that matter, had Sara. Warrick wasn't entirely blind and he'd had a number of suspicions about what Nick's relationship with Sara actually was, and this just added more fuel to the fire. Whatever Nick had done, he'd done because of Sara, and of that Warrick was certain. It was Sara's case. It was Sara that Greg was worried about. It was always Sara, it seemed.
Well, whatever it is, he was going to find out. He was sick of covering for Nick, smoothing over little lapses - things Nick said that didn't quite make sense, actions that weren't quite consistent - all things that seemed to relate, somehow, back to Sara. And he was sick of not knowing, because he thought he and Nick were friends and friends shared little issues like girlfriends.
All that, and he was worried about Nick as well, not least because he happened to be sitting in a cubicle in the emergency room covered in blood.
"Hey," said Nick, dully, a few too many seconds after Warrick's greeting. "Grissom send you?"
"I would have come anyway."
"Is he angry?"
Warrick drew a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. "He's Grissom."
Nick shrugged. "Yeah."
Warrick was on the verge of asking for an explanation when a nurse came bustling in. "Now, Mr - ?"
"Stokes."
"Stokes. Let's get you cleaned up."
Warrick took a step back as the highly efficient nurse cleaned the blood off Nick, revealing a deep cut on his right cheek, one on his left forearm, and several minor ones on his arms and torso. "What did that?" he asked. "Nick?"
"Knife." Nick winced.
"Shit."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence as Nick was stitched up. Nick didn't seem to be in the mood for talking, and Warrick was reluctant to discuss an open investigation in front of the nurse. The only thing Nick said was to ask where Sara was.
"She's here," said Warrick. "Somewhere. I don't know where. She okay?"
Nick shrugged, earning himself a reprimand from the nurse.
There was further silence until the nurse finished stitching the worst of Nick's wounds. "I've been told you can't be discharged until the police are ready for you," the nurse said, finally and calmly, as if she said this to patients on a regular basis.
Nick seemed to stiffen slightly at the word "police". Warrick couldn't blame him; personally, he felt his heart jump crazily at the word. This was all wrong. They were familiar with the cops, sure, but from the other side. Nick had probably never had a parking ticket in his life, and now the cops wanted to talk to him in connection with the deaths of two girls.
Warrick's world seemed to have shifted unexpectedly and unnaturally on its axis. Sara was on the borderline of a lot of things, especially in the last few years, and she barely surprised Warrick any more. But Nick - Nick had had his share of problems, but he'd always been responsible, reliable, always been there, a solid, (usually) sane presence. "You doing okay?" he asked.
"Sure."
"What happened, man?"
Nick shrugged, stared at the wall. "Sara wanted to talk to these two girls about Brenda Collins' death. And she was just worried about them. And then these other kids came out of nowhere, and they had a knife, and - I don't really know what happened. It was dark and people were screaming - Sara was screaming, the girls were screaming - and it all just happened too fast. I had to shoot - I think I hit a kid the second time. I didn't mean to, Warrick."
Warrick blinked. Even shooting a kid in self-defense was way wrong in Nick's moral code. "You were doing what you had to do. You were protecting yourself and Sara, too."
"The kids took off when I started shooting," Nick said, dully. At the same time his voice was full of emotion and empty of it. "And there were two bodies and Sara was bleeding and... thought I was dreaming, you know?"
"Yeah."
Nick removed his gaze from the wall and looked down at his twisting hands.
"What's up with you and Sara, man?"
Nick shrugged, yet again. "She's Sara."
"I noticed that, but what's going on?"
"We're..." Nick hesitated, shrugged again.
Warrick wondered crazily if Nick's shoulders would ever stay put after today. "Well, how long?" he asked.
"Nearly a year. It's complicated."
It was what Warrick had expected. "And you never told me."
"Like I said, it's complicated."
Maybe it was a good thing that two uniformed cops arrived then. They were vaguely familiar to Warrick, but not ones he, and presumably Nick, had had a lot to do with. The choice was probably deliberate.
Nick seemed almost relieved to see the police, and more than willing to accompany them down to PD. Nick was the type who managed to have a guilty conscience when he'd done nothing wrong. He was probably, in some strange way, looking forward to taking the blame for everything he'd done wrong this time - and probably for a lot of things that hadn't been his fault at all. Warrick sighed, and followed them out of the cubicle in silence, and watched as Nick left with the cops.
The police had obviously managed to round up some of the kids who'd been involved with the thing at the factory. One boy had a fresh looking bandage on his arm, a few had smaller cuts and scrapes. The cops were talking to them in a corner.
Warrick found himself hovering anxiously about, a situation which felt incredibly uncomfortable. He didn't have anything to do, and that felt wrong when the world was upside down. Sara was probably still here, and Catherine, he supposed. If he'd been babysitting Nick, keeping an eye on Sara was probably Catherine's job. He just didn't know where they were, and he doubted that Sara wanted to see him anyway.
He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to see Sara, either.
After a few minutes of watching the parade of people, he was approached by a cop. "Warrick Brown, CSI?"
"Yeah."
"I'm supposed to ask you to process these kids when we're done. We can take them down to PD for you."
Warrick nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." That he could do. Meanwhile, he'd wait. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts.
His moments of peace didn't last long, but the sound of Catherine's voice was a pleasant interruption. "Hey," she said, and Warrick opened his eyes. "Fancy seeing you here."
Seeing Catherine made it seemed like the world was moving, however slowly, back towards normality. He smiled, and Catherine smiled back. "Yeah. Fancy that."
Catherine, it transpired, was looking for Nick, so Warrick filled her in on the situation. "We're covering our backs, huh? This is such a mess. Whole thing's going to go to hell," Catherine said, rubbing her forehead. Warrick guessed she was thinking about media, and Internal Affairs, and the sheriff, and Grissom, and so many other things.
"Yup," he agreed, unable to think of anything more helpful to say.
"How's Nick?" Catherine asked.
"He's got twelve stitches."
"Sara's probably got more."
Warrick tried to imagine what Sara looked like. Nick had looked bad enough. He sighed. "Shit. This is a disaster."
Catherine nodded, the expression in her eyes half-sympathetic. "Tell me about it. I don't know how the hell Nick could possibly have been so stupid."
"I notice you're not asking that about Sara," Warrick said, slowly. He couldn't blame her, really, because this whole thing seemed to be Sara's fault. "How is she?"
Catherine sighed. "Oh, who knows?"
"Shit," said Warrick again. He was having trouble finding anything useful to say.
"Well, I suppose I get to tell Sara she can't see Nick yet." Catherine seemed entirely unthrilled with the prospect.
"Rather you than me."
"Ha. Thanks. I'll see you later, okay?"
"Yeah. See ya," said Warrick, finding another smile from somewhere. He watched Catherine head back to wherever the nurses had Sara, and leaned back against the wall, waiting.
***
There were no surprises among the kids when Warrick processed them. The fingerprints of one boy, who refused to give a name other than "Raf", matched the prints on the bloodied knife Grissom and Greg had found at the factory. Another of the boys, Petey, was equally reluctant to give his real name, but he did have a bullet wound through his upper left arm. Grissom and Greg had found the bullet too, and it matched Nick's gun, to no-one's surprise.
Raf was remanded in custody for the murders of the two girls and assaulting Nick and Sara. Petey was released into a secure youth facility to have his wound taken care of. The rest of the kids that had been rounded up were divided into several group homes, and around four a.m. the coroner brought in the bodies of the two girls.
Warrick didn't go to see the bodies. He sat in the break room and drummed restless fingers on the table, waiting for Catherine, waiting for news about Nick, news about Sara, waiting for Grissom and Greg to return from the crime scene. He stared at the table when Ecklie walked past and gave the briefest, most non-committal answers he could, and was grateful he didn't have to talk to the press.
TBC....
The first thing Warrick thought was that Nick looked guilty. Not mildly guilty, or guilty in a self-satisfied, cat who got the cream kind of way, but the guilt of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Or the deaths of two young girls.
"Hey man," he said, entirely inadequately. What did you say? He thought Nick had been an absolutely stupid idiot, and so, for that matter, had Sara. Warrick wasn't entirely blind and he'd had a number of suspicions about what Nick's relationship with Sara actually was, and this just added more fuel to the fire. Whatever Nick had done, he'd done because of Sara, and of that Warrick was certain. It was Sara's case. It was Sara that Greg was worried about. It was always Sara, it seemed.
Well, whatever it is, he was going to find out. He was sick of covering for Nick, smoothing over little lapses - things Nick said that didn't quite make sense, actions that weren't quite consistent - all things that seemed to relate, somehow, back to Sara. And he was sick of not knowing, because he thought he and Nick were friends and friends shared little issues like girlfriends.
All that, and he was worried about Nick as well, not least because he happened to be sitting in a cubicle in the emergency room covered in blood.
"Hey," said Nick, dully, a few too many seconds after Warrick's greeting. "Grissom send you?"
"I would have come anyway."
"Is he angry?"
Warrick drew a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. "He's Grissom."
Nick shrugged. "Yeah."
Warrick was on the verge of asking for an explanation when a nurse came bustling in. "Now, Mr - ?"
"Stokes."
"Stokes. Let's get you cleaned up."
Warrick took a step back as the highly efficient nurse cleaned the blood off Nick, revealing a deep cut on his right cheek, one on his left forearm, and several minor ones on his arms and torso. "What did that?" he asked. "Nick?"
"Knife." Nick winced.
"Shit."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence as Nick was stitched up. Nick didn't seem to be in the mood for talking, and Warrick was reluctant to discuss an open investigation in front of the nurse. The only thing Nick said was to ask where Sara was.
"She's here," said Warrick. "Somewhere. I don't know where. She okay?"
Nick shrugged, earning himself a reprimand from the nurse.
There was further silence until the nurse finished stitching the worst of Nick's wounds. "I've been told you can't be discharged until the police are ready for you," the nurse said, finally and calmly, as if she said this to patients on a regular basis.
Nick seemed to stiffen slightly at the word "police". Warrick couldn't blame him; personally, he felt his heart jump crazily at the word. This was all wrong. They were familiar with the cops, sure, but from the other side. Nick had probably never had a parking ticket in his life, and now the cops wanted to talk to him in connection with the deaths of two girls.
Warrick's world seemed to have shifted unexpectedly and unnaturally on its axis. Sara was on the borderline of a lot of things, especially in the last few years, and she barely surprised Warrick any more. But Nick - Nick had had his share of problems, but he'd always been responsible, reliable, always been there, a solid, (usually) sane presence. "You doing okay?" he asked.
"Sure."
"What happened, man?"
Nick shrugged, stared at the wall. "Sara wanted to talk to these two girls about Brenda Collins' death. And she was just worried about them. And then these other kids came out of nowhere, and they had a knife, and - I don't really know what happened. It was dark and people were screaming - Sara was screaming, the girls were screaming - and it all just happened too fast. I had to shoot - I think I hit a kid the second time. I didn't mean to, Warrick."
Warrick blinked. Even shooting a kid in self-defense was way wrong in Nick's moral code. "You were doing what you had to do. You were protecting yourself and Sara, too."
"The kids took off when I started shooting," Nick said, dully. At the same time his voice was full of emotion and empty of it. "And there were two bodies and Sara was bleeding and... thought I was dreaming, you know?"
"Yeah."
Nick removed his gaze from the wall and looked down at his twisting hands.
"What's up with you and Sara, man?"
Nick shrugged, yet again. "She's Sara."
"I noticed that, but what's going on?"
"We're..." Nick hesitated, shrugged again.
Warrick wondered crazily if Nick's shoulders would ever stay put after today. "Well, how long?" he asked.
"Nearly a year. It's complicated."
It was what Warrick had expected. "And you never told me."
"Like I said, it's complicated."
Maybe it was a good thing that two uniformed cops arrived then. They were vaguely familiar to Warrick, but not ones he, and presumably Nick, had had a lot to do with. The choice was probably deliberate.
Nick seemed almost relieved to see the police, and more than willing to accompany them down to PD. Nick was the type who managed to have a guilty conscience when he'd done nothing wrong. He was probably, in some strange way, looking forward to taking the blame for everything he'd done wrong this time - and probably for a lot of things that hadn't been his fault at all. Warrick sighed, and followed them out of the cubicle in silence, and watched as Nick left with the cops.
The police had obviously managed to round up some of the kids who'd been involved with the thing at the factory. One boy had a fresh looking bandage on his arm, a few had smaller cuts and scrapes. The cops were talking to them in a corner.
Warrick found himself hovering anxiously about, a situation which felt incredibly uncomfortable. He didn't have anything to do, and that felt wrong when the world was upside down. Sara was probably still here, and Catherine, he supposed. If he'd been babysitting Nick, keeping an eye on Sara was probably Catherine's job. He just didn't know where they were, and he doubted that Sara wanted to see him anyway.
He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to see Sara, either.
After a few minutes of watching the parade of people, he was approached by a cop. "Warrick Brown, CSI?"
"Yeah."
"I'm supposed to ask you to process these kids when we're done. We can take them down to PD for you."
Warrick nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." That he could do. Meanwhile, he'd wait. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts.
His moments of peace didn't last long, but the sound of Catherine's voice was a pleasant interruption. "Hey," she said, and Warrick opened his eyes. "Fancy seeing you here."
Seeing Catherine made it seemed like the world was moving, however slowly, back towards normality. He smiled, and Catherine smiled back. "Yeah. Fancy that."
Catherine, it transpired, was looking for Nick, so Warrick filled her in on the situation. "We're covering our backs, huh? This is such a mess. Whole thing's going to go to hell," Catherine said, rubbing her forehead. Warrick guessed she was thinking about media, and Internal Affairs, and the sheriff, and Grissom, and so many other things.
"Yup," he agreed, unable to think of anything more helpful to say.
"How's Nick?" Catherine asked.
"He's got twelve stitches."
"Sara's probably got more."
Warrick tried to imagine what Sara looked like. Nick had looked bad enough. He sighed. "Shit. This is a disaster."
Catherine nodded, the expression in her eyes half-sympathetic. "Tell me about it. I don't know how the hell Nick could possibly have been so stupid."
"I notice you're not asking that about Sara," Warrick said, slowly. He couldn't blame her, really, because this whole thing seemed to be Sara's fault. "How is she?"
Catherine sighed. "Oh, who knows?"
"Shit," said Warrick again. He was having trouble finding anything useful to say.
"Well, I suppose I get to tell Sara she can't see Nick yet." Catherine seemed entirely unthrilled with the prospect.
"Rather you than me."
"Ha. Thanks. I'll see you later, okay?"
"Yeah. See ya," said Warrick, finding another smile from somewhere. He watched Catherine head back to wherever the nurses had Sara, and leaned back against the wall, waiting.
***
There were no surprises among the kids when Warrick processed them. The fingerprints of one boy, who refused to give a name other than "Raf", matched the prints on the bloodied knife Grissom and Greg had found at the factory. Another of the boys, Petey, was equally reluctant to give his real name, but he did have a bullet wound through his upper left arm. Grissom and Greg had found the bullet too, and it matched Nick's gun, to no-one's surprise.
Raf was remanded in custody for the murders of the two girls and assaulting Nick and Sara. Petey was released into a secure youth facility to have his wound taken care of. The rest of the kids that had been rounded up were divided into several group homes, and around four a.m. the coroner brought in the bodies of the two girls.
Warrick didn't go to see the bodies. He sat in the break room and drummed restless fingers on the table, waiting for Catherine, waiting for news about Nick, news about Sara, waiting for Grissom and Greg to return from the crime scene. He stared at the table when Ecklie walked past and gave the briefest, most non-committal answers he could, and was grateful he didn't have to talk to the press.
TBC....
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 12:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-13 10:17 pm (UTC)I don't know how much longer this fic's going to be, but a few more chapters at least. The original plan I drew up had eight chapters, but obviously that hasn't happened. I'll just keep writing it until it feels finished.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-15 09:03 pm (UTC)