The drive back to Catherine's place was unbearably long, excruciating to Nick. It was quiet, besides the small chat between Sara, Lilly, and Lindsey in the back. Catherine hadn't said a thing since they left the precinct, and neither had he. He was afraid of times like these, the quiet drives and absence of conversation when there were a small crowd in an area. It left his mind to wander, especially on the drives. How many times has he gone down the Vegas highways past the screeching music and always glowing neon lights? How many times has he gone down these roads and grimly clutched the wheel as not to break down, or blow up, or just slip away from reality? As if that steering wheel was the only thing holding him down, he gripped it like it was his everything. Before he knew it, he was easing into the driveway before Catherine's home, Sara, Lilly, and Lindsey immediately exiting. As he turned to get out, Catherine still didn't move. Reaching out softly, Nick laid his hand on her shoulder, her head snapping towards him, dazed.
“We’re here already? I must have dozed." She turned and exited her door, but his face crinkled into skepticism, letting out a deep sigh. The murder of the mother and two girls was still set in his head, that's where this all started. He shook his head, fighting out images of small girls being carved and women driven with railroad spikes into the bathroom wall. Slamming the car door, he locked it, finger unconsciously hitting the lock button four times before telling himself to stop and shoving it into his jeans pocket. Catherine's laugh reached his ears, and he looked up to see Sara being clutched by Catherine, half falling down and half steadying herself. “You both can keep your stuff in my room.” Nick nodded and quickly made his way up the steps and stopped at the door, staring down at the doorstep for a moment, and stepped over it and into Catherine's house. The interviews and process had taken up most of the afternoon sun, and now it was a good six o'clock, if not later, with the last rays of the day falling behind the horizon. He looked down at his hands, feeling no weight in them, triggered by Catherine's remark. Stuff, what stuff? He wouldn't dare leave Catherine to stop at his house, and he wasn't going to leave the girls in the car alone when he was driving home. Besides, being alone inside his home would only trigger memories, a place where he was supposed to be safe, and yet he was proven wrong before, will he again?
“Mom, Grans and I are heading off to bed. Night, Sara and…Nick,” Turning his head down the hallway, Nick saw Lindsey sheepishly smiling towards him before she walked back down the hallway to, presumably, her room. "Uhh, night Lindsey." He coughed, trying to clear his throat and began to feverishly rub the back of his neck in embarassment. Things were getting way to complicated, even for a scientist. Catherine began to giggle as she turned to head towards her room before she turned towards him. “I’m sorry, Nick…but it’s funny.” Sara began to laugh too, and he was just not in the mood.
Alright, I like Catherine, got it. Now that that's for sure...no wait, I love her. Or do I? Do I just like her? Is it a flimsy little crush thing? No, I like her, you can't love somebody by just working with them for years. But yeah you can...NO. Just, pfff. Now Lindsey's acting weird around me? How am I gonna deal with this if something happens between me and Cat? This is too confusing, and just throw in the murders and notes, and dreams... The dreams. He stopped dead in the hallway, Catherine behind him, and he began walking again towards the kitchen in the front. No, don't go there. This is your night off. Just relax. No Grissom to please, no deadlines to meet, no blundering criminals, no annoying beeping noises from the machines, no autopsies to attend. He smiled, not quite knowing the position of his body, or whether he was walking, everything was in a daze. But then other thoughts came to mind, and the smile quickly fadded away, just like any other time in this job. No dead bodies on tables, no pictures of mutilated bodies, no abductions, no sexual assaults, no man attempting to take Cath's life, no men using her to get to me, no -...
"Nick?" He blinked, realizing he had reached the kitchen island and was leaning against it, head resting on the top, once again pounding forehead reveling in the cool surface.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry, just thinking." He stood and sighed, rubbing his head again when he noticed Catherine's look from the other side of the kitchen. "What?"
"Thinking about...?"
"Just, things. Lots of things..." He refrained from sighing, an old habit rearing its ugly head lately and walked across the kitchen to get moving.
"Things like...?" He didn't mean to, and he knew he shouldn't be, but Nick was becoming angry. Why did she have to press for answers? Why couldn't she just leave him alone?
"Just -" He stopped. He knew why she was doing it. She was concerned, sincerely and lovingly. Lovingly, she liked him. Liked? Or loved? Or how did she feel? Was she all mashed up? Was she all screwed up by this maniac? Was-
Sara had walked in, sitting herself on a chair at the island. And she wasn't in work clothes. Before he could hold himself, Nick furrowed his brows, walking back to the island. "Yeah, yeah, I actually DO change out of my clothes for work, and I do own pajamas." He couldn't help but smile, nodding at her response. He earned it for the look. "So, what to do?"
Nick shrugged, grabbing the chair nearest him on the end of the island opposite his coworkers.
"I don't know, I don't really 'do' anything at home. But I'm hungry, you guys?"
