Title: Watcher
By: Emily Brunson
Pairing: gen
Rating: PG
Summary: Post-"Grave Danger", Warrick talks.
Something I'd wanted to write about for a long time now. Kinda story-ish, although very short. For [info]princessportent, who totally stumped me.
ETA -- um, with a big gaping hole in the plot, btw, so, erm, ah, well. At least it's just a snippet, right? *weak laugh*

They asked all of us if we wanted to talk to a counselor after. When everything was over and Nick was safe, Ecklie stopping by one evening and going, “You want to talk to someone? About what happened?”

I told him yeah. I mean, I think a lot of folks didn’t take him up on it. We’ll work through it, get past it. Except sometimes I wonder if they didn’t just say that to save face, and all of them snuck over and had a few sessions with Dr. Elks, on the QT.

I saw him four times. Took that long to kinda process it all. See, I needed to tell someone, and I couldn’t tell the folks I work with. They didn’t need reminding, and they didn’t need to know about the things they didn’t see. I saw it all. Missed a couple of things, but yeah, I was watching nearly all the time. And I saw the stuff they didn’t.

I’m still not sure what I’m supposed to do with all of it. Forget it? That’s pretty much impossible. I dream about it, I think about it when I’m home. Elks said I had to deal with it and go forward, and I agree, I mean, I was a witness, not a participant in that way. It didn’t happen to ME. Sometimes I feel weird for talking about myself, when it was Nick in that godawful box. Maybe that’s why no one else wanted to admit they got some therapy afterward, either.

But talking about it helped. Got me through a few nightmares, and just feeling so goddamn helpless. I watched his face when he thought he was being rescued. Beating on the lid of that coffin and yelling, saying things, wished I could read lips. Except maybe I’m glad I couldn’t. Do I really want to know what he was saying?

That, and that gun in his hand. See, they were all there, digging him up. They couldn’t see what he was doing when he found out his air was cut off. They didn’t see his face when he gave up. Shoved that gun up under his chin, was gonna do it.

That’s the one I have nightmares about. Because there was only a few seconds left before Warrick and all of them would have been digging up a dead body. Nick was gonna do it.

I’ve never watched someone decide to die. He knew it was over. Knew that all that was left was gasping like a fish on land, asphyxiating. It wasn’t the coward’s way out; he just knew his time was up. All those bugs on him, all that shit he’d gone through until then – he’d held on as long as he could, but there wasn’t any reason to now. He was dead and just hadn’t stopped breathing yet.

I want to forget about it. I want to not remember it. And I was doing good. Elks, and time, and all that, and mostly just seeing Nick back at work, handling everything a hell of a lot better than I ever thought he would. Totally underestimated him, if you want the truth.

And now I have this tape. Now I know what Nick heard, when he woke up in that coffin. That voice, that sick satisfied voice. And the part Nick doesn’t know about.

There’s something on this tape Grissom doesn’t want me to hear. And I think it’s that recording Nick made. We were watching; does Grissom remember that? But I don’t read lips. I never wanted to know what Nick said. Goodbyes? Probably.

I could listen. Grissom would never know. It’s an act of faith. He knows, and he doesn’t want me to know. Doesn’t want anyone to know.

I could listen. But would it make me stop thinking about Nick with his service weapon under his chin? Would it make anything better? Or worse?

I don’t want to know. I’ll keep the tape put away, keep it safe, and maybe Grissom will pull the rabbit out of the hat, find out if that guy really did have an accomplice.

Might have to pay Dr. Elks another visit. At least that one place, I can be honest.


END