Title: The Scene of Heartache
Author: Carina Scott
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Jim Brass/Warrick Brown
Summary: Warrick confronts the truth behind his feelings in the aftermath of the Simon case.
Spoilers: Takes place immediately following the events of 'Redrum'.
Disclaimer: I don't own, please don't sue. I promise to return them relatively unharmed once I'm finished.
Author's Note: This fic basically wrote itself with all that went on in this episode. I was writing from the moment the episode ended. I hope you enjoy!

Warrick's POV

'Let it go.' That's what I told Nick. Too bad I can't seem to take my own advice. It's not that I don't understand Catherine's reasons for lying to us, but I still think she should've trusted us to do our job without resorting to lying to our faces. We have all worked this job long enough to know that sometimes catching a killer isn't exactly straight forward. At times the best way to catch a crook is too fool them into thinking they've gotten away with the crime; I understand that. There have been several cases in which we 'accidentally' leaked info to the press in the hopes of drawing out a criminal. But with each case that I can recall, the officers and CSIs on the case were all in the loop. Officially that was because in order to actually get away with the slight deception, the cooperation of the entire team was necessary. Unofficially, it was because we trusted the people we worked with to do their jobs and help us catch the criminal. That's what pisses me off so much about Catherine. Keppler doesn't know us, therefore having no reason to feel like he should trust us. But Catherine has worked with us long enough to know that we could be trusted with this type of info. Like Nick said, every time we go out to a scene, call her for backup; we place our life in her hands, and vice versa.

To find out that someone you trust with your life every day doesn't feel they can trust you with something like this; it's mind boggling. I've known Catherine for years; stood by her after Eddie's death, vouched for her with child protective services, been there for whenever she needed me to be, even if she wouldn't admit it. Hell, Lindsey's my godchild for heaven sake! If she can trust me with the welfare of her child, how can she not trust me with this? Better yet, how am I supposed to be able to trust her when she apparently doesn't feel the same?

She could have stood up to Keppler, and told him that unless he clued the team in on this little ploy, she would have no parts of it. She always spouts off about how clueless Gil is when it comes to dealing with his team, but I know without a doubt that Gil wouldn't have lied to us. She should have showed him that she stood by us above all else. Gil may not play politics, but he doesn't bend over and take it when they try to screw us over either. Not only did she lie to us, but she also put the integrity of the lab on the line. It's no wonder the DA wouldn't go along with it. Would you want the fate of your case to be in the hands of a lab that couldn't trust its own employees? I bet Gil will have a lot to say about this when he returns.

But with all my feelings and thoughts about Catherine's deception, nothing hurts more than walking into the precinct and finding out that Jim Brass was in on it as well. A man I have been dating for almost two years; sharing my bed with each night since we moved in together six months ago, has been returning home each night with deception in his eyes and lies in his heart. I love him and if I hadn't been certain before today, walking into the precinct and witnessing him plot with Keppler clarified it for me without a doubt. It was like a slap in the face to know that I have been returning home to a liar since this case started.

He even shook my hand as he stood outside the crime scene, on the phone spouting off his lies and bullshit. It's the only affection we can show at work without drawing any negative attention, so we often times shake hands if we haven't seen each other all day. But how could he act like this was a normal everyday occurrence? How could he be so calm when he knew he had called me to a faked crime scene? Catherine knows about our relationship, as do Nick, Greg, and Gil. So Jim could've requested that she call someone else, anyone else, to that damn scene. Keppler wouldn't have thought it weird or inappropriate, no matter the circumstances. But obviously he hadn't thought of that or I wouldn't have shown up at the scene, thinking I was about to do the work I was paid for, not be made a fool out of.

Thinking about it now makes me cringe, and it really pisses me off. They watched as Catherine ordered me to work the perimeter of the scene. Stood by as I took pictures, collected 'evidence'; did my damn job. All of them watched as if they hadn't a clue as to what was going on. If Jim could look me in the eye and lie so easily how am I supposed to trust him? I work with Catherine, and on a professional level I can understand her deception, I can even understand Brass' reasons as well. But I'm not talking about Brass right now, I'm talking about Jim. The man I love and had chosen to spend the rest of my life with. How can I trust that when he says 'I love you' that he's not just lying to my face once again? How am I supposed to look at him, not to mention live with him, knowing that he willingly lied to my face?

I know I am supposed to keep my personal and professional life separate, but it's impossible. Jim and I even talked about that, knowing that at some point we might be at odds over a case. We had agreed not to discuss the cases at home. But we never agreed that it was okay to lie to each other. No matter what, professional or personal, lying to each other's face was not on the list of acceptable behavior.

Groaning at the headache I can feel coming on, I put my car in park, and step out of my vehicle. Looking up at the townhouse that I share with Jim, I can't bring myself to go in. Not when I know that he's in there acting as if nothing has happened. I don't know if Catherine called to let him know that we are in the loop now, and I honestly don't care. Nothing he can do or say is gonna change the fact that he has been knowingly lying to me. Nothing is gonna take away the pain of that deception, the overwhelming despondency I feel at realizing that the man I thought I could trust is nothing more than a liar.

Turning back to my car, I open the door and get back in. As much as my head is hurting, I can't be here. Not tonight. Maybe Nick wants company. Maybe I'll check into a hotel for the night, and reevaluate things tomorrow, when I can think beyond the pounding in my head. Or at least I think it's in my head.

Opening my eyes; eyes I don't even remember closing, I look into the concerned brown eyes of my lover. Jim is shouting something to me, but I can't understand what he's saying between the ringing in my head and his fists pounding on the rolled up window. I try to ask him to repeat himself, but I don't get that chance. Before I can even form the words I feel darkness creep into my vision, as everything fades to black.

~*~

Waking up an unknown amount of time later, I blink lazily to clear my vision, noticing that the pounding in my head has diminished greatly, but it's still there. Looking around the room I recognize that I'm on the couch in our living room. The room is semi-dark, which I am immensely grateful for, and I can't find Jim.

Feeling the gentle massage of fingers on my scalp, I look up into Jim's eyes, noticing him for the first time. Even though the room is lit only by one light, I can see most of Jim's face. And from the shimmering reflection in his eyes, Jim looks as if he's been crying.

Immediately concerned, I groan at the pain that spikes through my head as I sit up abruptly. I think the last time I had a headache this bad was the night of Jim's shooting, and the first time was right after we'd pulled Nick out of the ground. The doctor told me on both occasions that the headaches, which he claimed were actually migraines, were brought on by immense stress. Considering the circumstance surrounding both instances, I think that's likely. But I can't for the life of me recall why I would be so stressed out now. No one's missing, no one has been shot. All my loved ones are alive and well. So why the hell am I stressing so much?

And like a flash of lightning, it all comes rushing back to me. Deception and lies. Those are the culprits behind this migraine. Reliving all the moments of pretense and dishonesty from our last case, the gentle fingers carding through my hair begin to feel like small pinpricks instead. Sighing, I try again to sit up, taking it slow this time. Forcing myself to move to the other side of the sofa, I turn to look at Jim. I am certain that he's been crying, but I can't bring myself to care. Knowing he is feeling a small amount of the hurt I felt as I walked out of his precinct tonight gives me satisfaction. Small though it may be, it still makes me feel a little bit better.

"How are you feeling?" Jim asks me in a voice so thick with repressed emotion that I almost reach out to assure him that things are okay between us. Almost.

"Like a marching band is practicing in my head," I reply, not caring that the sarcasm and bitterness I feel are evident in my tone of voice. Seeing Jim flinch slightly, I bite down on the urge to smile.

"Oh. Do you want an aspirin or something?"

As much as I would love to tell him I don't need anything from him, the pounding in my head is more forgiving. "Yes," I whisper, watching as he quickly gets up and walks down the hall to our bathroom.

Waiting for him to return, I look around the living room. Six months ago, when Jim asked me to live with him, I had only agreed with one stipulation. We had to paint. Jim's home was nice, but it lacked color. So he had agreed, as long as it wasn't to ostentatious. Never one to like a lot of bright colors, no matter that I've always lived in Vegas, I quickly settled on a soothing shade of tan for the walls. The bursts of color in the room were brought in through pillows and decorative accents. We shopped together for everything, only buying things that we both loved; wanting to make sure that our home was truly 'our home.'

Spotting one of my favorite photos on the coffee table, I smile. The frame was simple, yet elegant; something Jim had picked out without hesitation. But as much as I appreciated the subtle elegance of the frame, it was the photograph inside that made it my favorite. We had been in our newly decorated home for two weeks, when Catherine, Nick, Greg, and Gil had shown up unexpectedly. Well, I didn't expect them too; but Jim knew all about it. Greg and Nick had been bugging him about a housewarming party since I moved in, wanting to celebrate the new milestone in our life with a small gathering. Jim felt it was a weird gesture considering that he had lived in the house for at least five years. But after a little poking and prodding from those two, Jim was finally convinced that it made perfect sense to have a house warming party to celebrate the fact that this was now 'our' house.

After the initial shock of the surprise party, I relaxed and we had a great time. We had just finished dinner so Jim and I had escaped to the kitchen, under the pretense of washing dishes, hoping to steal a moment for ourselves. Obviously, Greg had other plans. As Jim and I were sharing a kiss, oblivious to out surroundings, we were nearly blinded by a bright flash. Looking over to the doorway, Greg was basically bouncing on his heels, with a silly grin on his face. I tried to wrestle the camera from him, threatening him with bodily harm if he even thought about having that photo developed. But Nick came to his rescue, assuring me that he would develop the photo personally. Trusting Nick to make certain no one outside of the team saw the photo, and knowing that he actually knew how to develop it, I had let him off the hook. And two days later, Greg dropped by with the photo, complete with a sincere apology and a promise not to do it again. After seeing how great the photo turned out, I decided not to give him a hard time, and had immediately pulled out Jim's frame and placed the photo in it.

Initially I had placed it on the mantle over our fireplace, but Jim thought it was nicer on the coffee table, saying more people would see it if it was on the coffee table, rather than displayed across the room. I agreed, and it has been sitting on the coffee table since.

Feeling moisture slip down my cheek, I quickly wipe it away before Jim returns. As I'm placing the frame back on the table, Jim sits back on the couch, this time sitting right next to me. Handing me a glass of water and two aspirin, he picks the photo up.

I watch him out the corner of my eye as I swallow the two pills, and I see the pained look on his face. Guilt. He's feeling guilty and I find that mildly gratifying.

"I'm sorry for lying to you Warrick," Jim replies, still looking at the photo. "There's no explanation for what I did, so I'm not gonna even attempt to explain it. You have every right to be angry."

"Good, because I am." Standing up abruptly, which probably wasn't to smart as evidence by my current dizzy spell, I place the glass on the coffee table. Turning towards our bedroom, I stalk out, hearing Jim follow me quickly.

Entering the bedroom, I head straight for our dresser. Pulling the drawers open with more force than absolutely necessary, I begin to rummage through the drawers looking for some clean clothes.

"Warrick, what are you doing?"

Ignoring him, I finally find what I was looking for. Slamming the drawer shut, I glare at Jim before heading towards the bathroom. Closing and locking the door behind me, I turn the shower own, testing the temperature with my hand. Satisfied that it's hot enough, I strip and step underneath the spray.

As the hot spray washes over me, I try not to think about Jim. But it's no use, he's all that's on my mind. As pissed as I am right now, I still love him. This, at the moment, only serves to piss me off even further.

I know that Jim has his reasons, and I'm suspecting that he was looking out for me in a way, but I'm still angry. I've always had trust issues with people in my life, which is likely why most of my past relationships haven't worked out too great. I thought that had changed with Jim, but now I don't know what to think about anything.

Stepping out from under the spray, I turn the water and step out. Drying off quickly, I slip on the pajama bottoms I found earlier. Looking in the mirror, I cringe at my reflection; I look like crap. Grabbing my tooth brush, I spread the toothpaste on it and begin brushing. A few minutes later, with clean teeth and fresh breath, I put everything away. Grabbing my discarded clothing, I place them in the hamper before unlocking the door and heading out.

Looking up, I stop dead in my tracks when I see Jim. He's sitting on the bed, and although that may not interesting on its own, the packed bag on the floor beside him makes it the most interesting sight to behold.

"Are you going somewhere?" I ask trying to reign in my temper, giving him a chance to explain.

"I figured you wouldn't want me here tonight, so I called Catherine. She told me I can crash in her guest bedroom for the night."

I've never had much luck controlling my temper on personal issues. Tonight's no different. "So you're just gonna run away!? Not even gonna try to tell me why you lied to me?"

"Warrick, I already told you that there is no explanation. I was wrong and I'm sorry."

"Fuck your apologies Jim! It was bad enough when I figured out that Catherine was lying to us, but I didn't, not even for a millisecond, think you were lying to me too! And now you're sitting here, bag packed and ready to run rather than deal with what you did! Excuse me if a sorry isn't enough!"

"Warrick, I'm-"

"No Jim! Don't you dare say that again! Do you know how fucking hard it was for me to have to go back to Nick, Greg, and Sara and tell them that you were lying to us too!? Do you? Sara might not know about us, but you know that Greg and Nick do. If it weren't for the fact that I was standing there looking like a fucking idiot, they probably would've thought I was in on it too! How could you do that to me? How could you let me find out the truth like that?!" Pacing back and forth, I am blinking rapidly by this point, refusing to let my angry tears fall.

"I didn't have a choice. Keppler had the idea, and before I even knew it everyone had agreed to it. I was gonna tell you, I wanted to tell you. But I couldn't."

"Because you don't trust me." I wanna scream this last declaration at him, but unfortunately it falls out like a broken whimper instead of the strong accusation I had intended. Turning my back to him, I try my best ignore the ache in my chest.

"No, because I trust you to be you, Ricky." Hearing his pet name for me makes my chest tighten, and I am so close to losing it it's not even funny. I can hear Jim standing up, and before I know it I feel him behind me. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight, and I can feel the rapid beat of his heart as his clothed chest is pressed against my bare back. "If I had told you, you would've wanted to tell Nick, Greg and Sara. That's just who you are, Warrick. I know you wouldn't have been comfortable with the thought of lying to them, and I didn't even want to put you in that position."

I try to hold on to my rapidly dissolving anger, but hearing the pain in his voice as he speaks makes the ache in my chest hurt even more. Turning in his embrace, I look down at him and after a few moments hesitation, he finally meets my gaze. I can see the guilt and pain shimmering within those brown orbs, but mostly I see love. His love for me. Groaning, I lean in and kiss him softly. "Next time, trust me enough to make that call for myself. Okay?"

Jim nods slightly, before whispering, "Okay."

Pulling him tighter to me, I wrap my arms around him before taking his mouth in a passionate kiss. We kiss for a while, deepening the kiss which each passing second before oxygen becomes an absolute necessity and we are forced to break apart.

Panting, I smile at the look of love and desire shining in Jim's eyes. Nipping his bottom lip, I step back and begin to undress him. Once he is completely naked, I strip as well. Climbing into bed, I pull him with me. We kiss lazily in the bed, reconnecting with each other, healing wounds and making promises to each other. Jim pulls me closer to him, and with one final kiss, we both drift off to sleep.

Things may not be perfect, and we may have some trust issues to work on, but at this moment; I honestly don't care.

THE END