Heart & Soul: What If...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Title: Heart and Soul: What If...?
Author: jhourdhaun
Author's e-mail: kaelleigh@earthlink.net
Disclaimer: You know who owns them. But, just in case, I can hum a few bars…
Pairing: War/Griss and a surprise for Sonja and Karen
Archive: Yes. T.C and Imagine
Story Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: How does one partner survive the loss of his soul-mate? The die is cast; the future is set; the reality is all there is… or is it?

Warning/Notes: Thanks to EbIv for letting me play in her sandbox. I feel honoured that she thinks I can do justice to a continuation of her story. I hope this story lives up to her faith.

Notes II: This is another one of my experiments. I'm writing this without plotting it out beforehand. I'm going with my gut (which as a very logical writer is incredibly hard for me). Even the snippets I write are plotted.

Notes III: Also, there is a mini-crossover element in this story that ties into another universe that I am currently working on.

Feedback: Comments, kudos and constructive criticism are always welcome.

Heart and Soul: What If?
By jhourdhaun

Previously:

Lost in his grief, Warrick dimly heard the phone ring. He made no move toward it, letting the machine answer. It was Catherine.

"Warrick? I know you don't feel like talking, but please pick up." A pause. "C'mon, Warrick. Just let me know you're okay." After several more unanswered pleas, she finally hung up.

He fought the urge to laugh hysterically as her words sunk in. "Okay? Fuck. I don't think I'm ever gonna be okay again."

From where he now sat Warrick had a bird's eye view of his liquor cabinet. It didn't contain much, since he and Grissom both preferred beer. But there was at least one bottle of scotch inside.

"Just what the doctor ordered," he whispered roughly. Getting to his feet, he walked over and opened the door. Sure enough, a bottle of well-aged scotch.

The first gulp burned all the way down, and he coughed in reaction. The second wasn't quite as bad, and by the third he didn't care.

Gil Grissom was dead. What else was left to care about?

And now:

Warrick's newly-dull eyes focused on his best friend and he tried to conjure up a smile, but he knew he wasn't successful as Nick grimaced. The sympathy roiling off of his friend would normally have warmed him – caused him to feel treasured and lucky.

But, he felt nothing.

How could he feel warmth when the one thing that had provided the heat, the sunshine in his life had been snuffed out? How could he feel treasured when the only times he truly felt worthy were when he saw the look of pride in Gil's eyes. How could he feel lucky when…?

Shaking his head to dispel those thoughts, Warrick settled back into the comforting embrace of the attitude he'd adopted. Nothing mattered any more. He just didn't care.

He still did his job to the best of his abilities, but there was no sense of fulfilment – no sense of completion, of righting the world. He still talked to his friends, but there was no sense of family, of knowing they would always be there. He still went out to touch base with the world, but the world held no colour – no fire, no passion.

He still listened to music, but that's all he did - listened. Warrick no longer felt or saw the music in everything. That gift had died just as surely as Gil had.

So, he didn't care about anything and that's all that kept him walking, talking, breathing.

"You okay, Bro?" Nicky asked as he moved in closer to his friend. "You went quiet on me and that scares me – I always wonder if you're plotting world domination or something."

"Nothing so grand," Warrick replied with a sad smile. "Just thankful that we got closure for another case. This one was tough."

"Yeah. There were a few when I thought this was headed for cold storage, but we managed to pull it off. Grissom will be proud." A stricken look crossed Nick's face and he quickly tried to backtrack. "Oh shit! I am so sorry. Sometimes I wonder where my brain is."

Rick's mind noted that if he could feel anything, that comment would have sent him spiralling into despair. Thankfully, he felt nothing. "It's okay, Nicky. You don't have to act like he didn't exist. The man was a key part of our lives – we can't just wipe that time out just because he was stupid enough to die."

A frown suddenly replaced the sadness on Nick's face. "What do you mean stupid?"

"What?"

"You said, '…just because he was stupid enough to die.'"

"Whatever, man. It was just a throwaway line. Nothing was meant by it," Warrick explained as he fought to keep the irritation out of his voice. Irritation was an emotion and emotion meant feeling and he couldn't feel anything.

He didn't want to feel anything.

"The hell you didn't." It was obvious that Nick wanted to get to the bottom of the statement. "You blame him for dying, don't you? You think he chose to leave you alone? You actually believe that he wanted to go?"

What Warrick really wanted was to be far away from here so that he could shore up the walls that Nick was trying to beat down. "Look, how I feel is irrelevant. He's gone – whatever his reasons."

"He died, you stupid fucker! He had no choice in it! A totally random blood vessel caused by a totally random car accident ruptured in his brain and took him out. There was no choice – no wanting to go."

Something inside of Rick snapped and every ounce of restraint he'd learned at Gil's feet vanished. Before he knew it, he was up in Nick's face, yelling. "You think that I don't know that?! Do you think that my head doesn't tell me that he had no choice?! He *left* me, Nicky! After he promised me forever, he left me!" If asked afterwards, Warrick couldn't say if the tears that flowed down his face were angry or broken ones. All he knew was that they were bitterly cold – just like the inside of him.

"As much as I am a man of logic and science, I'm a man and as a man, my heart can't get past the fact that he left me. It doesn't care that he died – it doesn't care that if it had been up to Gil, he would have fought and won. No. No, it doesn't care that if Gil Grissom could be anywhere on this plane of existence or the next, he'd be with me – holding me, loving me.

"All it cares about is that he's not here and he never will be again … and that means it doesn't care about anything else."

Nick's arms seemed to reach out of their own volition to pull his broken friend closer, but Warrick couldn't let that happen. He'd already felt too much and if he fell into Nick's embrace, he knew that everything he'd built – everything he'd done to survive – would shatter and nothing would stop him from pulling out his gun right then and there and ending all of the pain. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't do that to his friends and he certainly couldn't do that to his Nicky. So, he pulled back and turned away – finding a temporary filling for the breech that had let all of those damnable feelings flow freely. "I gotta go."

"Ricky…?"

"I promise I won't do anything that you'll have to investigate or clean up. I just … I just have to go."

As Warrick headed away from his friend, he barely could make out Nick's comment. "Yeah, but that's only the physical."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"Hey," a voice softly greeted. "Heard there was a little excitement earlier. Everything okay?"

An extremely weary voice replied, "Something happened. We don't know what it was, but it was certainly a reaction."

"Do they know if it was good or bad?"

"At first it seemed like a good thing – he seemed very close to surfacing, but then, something changed and … nothing." There was a sigh and then the voice returned sounding wearier than it had before. "The doctors are worried. All of the indicators are showing that this episode might have only served to put him deeper than ever."

"Dammit! I was hoping…"

"I know. We all were hoping...*I* was hoping." The voice paused. "Whatever this is, it has too great a hold on him and I don't think he can break free from it."

"Can't or won't?"

"I don't understand."

"Has it crossed your mind that maybe he doesn't want to face reality and this is his way of not?"

"That's ridiculous! He's not like that! He embraces life – lives it to its fullest. He wouldn't just give up."

"He would if he felt like there was nothing else left for him."

"But why would he think that?"

"I don't know. When we're very ill, our minds create and destroy on grander scales. It's what makes fever dreams so scary."

"Damn. I should have seen this coming. I should have known this was going to go bad. Everything was there – all the signs. But I still left him."

"You can't blame yourself – you had a job to do. You did everything you could for him – everything that he would allow you to do. He could have asked for your help at any time." The other voice paused and when it resumed, it was choked and ragged. "And if you're gonna take on blame, what about me? I knew he was having a hard time – I knew what this was doing to him and I let him dictate how things would be. As his biological brother, I should have known better – I should have done more."

"Yes, but you have the excuse of being across country. What excuse do I have?"

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"Have you guys really looked at him? He's lost so much weight and his eyes…," Sara shuddered as she thought back on her last encounter with Warrick. "His eyes are so lifeless. It's like he's there, but he's not." She shook her head. "I've tried talking to him and we've even hung out a few times, but…"

"His spirit's not there," Catherine finished for her. Clearing her throat, she blinked hard to contain the tears visible in her eyes. "He's just not the same. He hasn't been the same since Griss… died. I'm so scared that he's – that something's going to happen."

Nick shook his head. "No. He wouldn't do that to us. He promised me that he wouldn't follow Grissom like that."

Brass hated himself for having to bring up his point, but he felt he had no other alternative. "There are other ways of accomplishing the same result without doing it directly. Why do you think 'Death by Cop' is so popular?"

"You really think he's as far gone as something like that?"

"I don't want to believe it, but I can't deny what my eyes and gut are telling me." Brass had hoped he was being an alarmist when he suggested the group meet to discuss their hurting friend, but now he realised that if something wasn't done soon, they would be looking at another loss. "He's wearing the pain like a bad suit and something tells me we gotta intervene or he's gonna implode."

It was obvious that Nick was shaken by the statement, but it was Sara who spoke up. "Then I'm willing to do whatever it takes. Warrick and I have grown really close over the years and I don't want to lose another friend." Her gaze locked for a brief moment with each member of the team. "I *won't* lose another friend."

"And what do you guys think we can do?" Greg asked quietly. "If Warrick's determined to go this route, there's nothing we can do to stop him short of watching him 24/7."

"And as much as I really enjoy all of your company, I'd have to decline that generous offer," Warrick's even-toned voice offered as he entered the lounge. He quickly glanced around the room. "So, any particular reason why I wasn't invited? I mean, it only seems fair considering this discussion seems to be about me."

The rest of the team could only stare at Warrick as he grabbed a chair, turning it around so that the back was facing them and sat down. Jim was the first to recover. "We're just concerned about you, Rick. This has been hard on all of us, but we all know how much harder it's been for you."

"I know you guys mean well, but I'm okay."

"How can you say that?" Sara demanded. "You look like you've lost about fifty pounds that you couldn't afford to lose."

Warrick rolled his eyes. "Stop being dramatic. I'll concede that I might have dropped 20, but that's because I've been working out – toning more. That's all."

Nick raised his head and sent his friend an accusing glare. "You've cancelled out on our last few gatherings and when we've tried to reschedule, you've flat-out said no."

"I've had a lot on my mind and I didn't want to bring you guys down. That's a courtesy, not a reason to stage an intervention."

Catherine reached across the table and placed her hand on Rick's. "We're just doing this because we care. You're an important part of us and this behaviour isn't like you. That's got us understandably worried."

"Then stop," Warrick replied as he gently pulled his hand away and stood up. "I don't know how many more times I can tell you this, but I'm okay. I really appreciate the concern, but it's unnecessary. I'm handling things in my own way. Everything will be fine."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"Hey, baby. How ya holding up?"

"Oh man, what time is it?" A drowsy voice questioned.

"About 0-nine-thirty."

"Shit! We had a tense night and I must have checked out after everything finally settled. I was planning on monitoring him better, but I was just so tired. What if he had another episode? Some doctor I am. Can't even stay awake long enough to keep watch over my brother."

"Stephen. Stephen! Calm down! Warrick's fine. The doc was leaving out as I was coming in and he said he's still holding his own." He paused. "You guys have got to cut yourselves some slack. By nature of what he's dealing with, he's gonna have some rough patches. Unfortunately, there's not much you can do except sit back and deal."

"I know. I just… all of this has just been so hard for us. Is it selfish to just want my baby brother back – healthy and strong? I know there's other stuff to deal with, but I can't handle losing another sibling. I just can't, Frank."

"You won't. He's strong – he'll make it."

"From your lips to God's ears."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Warrick glanced around the room and took in the destruction around him. He was amazed at the amount of empty bottles that surrounded him. Looked like Scotch had been his poison of choice last night and although he couldn't remember drinking so much, he could certainly feel it.

The pounding at his front door caused his head to join in and his stomach to rebel. He tried to call out for the person to 'stop the fucking knocking!' but nothing came out. He finally managed to stand up, but his body was refusing to cooperate further. Warrick could tell that something wasn't right with himself, but his mind refused to process the information and it was taking everything in him just to stay upright.

Finally the pounding stopped at the door if not his head and he heard Nick calling out for him, "Warrick, you home? I saw your truck outside, but you didn't answer. I used my key." He paused as if waiting for a response. "Hello? Rick? You here?"

Nick's dark head could just be seen from the hall, but still Warrick couldn't move or speak. "There you are," he commented as he fully entered the room, stumbling on one of the bottles. "Shit! What the…?" He took in the disarray of the room and the bottles scattered all around and then his gaze settled on his friend. "What the hell did you do?"

"Ni-Neek-Neekyy. No… note… fel s-s-s-so gute."

"Oh fuck. Rick!" The smaller man yelled as Warrick started to drop. He just barely managed to catch his friend and his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest as Warrick's body started to convulse. "Oh God! Rick! Come on, man. Don't do this to me." Keeping his own body between his sick friend and the detritus of the room, he searched through his pocket, finally finding his phone and pulling it out…

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"What happened?"

"His fever spiked. Vitals were all over the place. He started to convulse. I called for the staff as soon as I could and started working on him until they came in and forced me out. I… I tried to tell them I'm a doctor, but…"

"I'm sure you did everything you could, Stephen."

'Code to Room 614. Code to 614.'

"Omigod. No!"

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"Dammit, Warrick! Breathe!" Nick screamed at the other man as he worked frantically, performing CPR. "Don't you dare quit on me now!"

Behind him, he was barely aware as Jim Brass escorted the paramedics into the house and over to them. He only realised that he wasn't alone fighting for his friend's life when Brass grabbed his arms and pulled him away, allowing the medics to work. "Jim? You're here. When?"

"I heard the call. Got in just a skip ahead of the EMTs." He looked around the room, shaking his head. "What the hell happened here, Nicky?"

"I think he…" Nick took a deep breath to steady himself and tried to avoid watching the medics work on keeping Warrick going. "I think it's alcohol poisoning. He was barely standing and slurring his speech when I came in. He dropped soon after and then started convulsing. I…"

Jim pulled the younger man closer to him. "You did all that you could, Nicky. Rick couldn't have asked for better."

A frantic yell from the female medic had both men turning back to the life-and-death situation playing out in front of him. "His BP's falling; he's tachy. We're losing him!"

"Omigod. No! This cannot be happening! It can't! This isn't happening!"

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"We're losing him!"

"No! He can't. We promised each other forever!

"You've got to calm down. You can't help him if you fall apart!"

"He said he was okay. It was just supposed to be the flu. I shouldn't have left him to work that call. I should have been there. He wouldn't have gotten worse alone. I should have been there!"

"Gil, this isn't your fault. Do you understand me? This isn't your fault."

"No! No! This cannot be happening! It can't! This isn't happening!"

Fade to white….

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The sun shone brightly into the room and seemed to bathe the occupant in the bed with a gold so warm his bronze skin glowed. Gil Grissom couldn't take his eyes off of the younger man and he even prayerfully thanked the heavens with his eyes fully open and focused on the gently resting body of Warrick Brown.

As if he heard his lover's thoughts, Rick's awakened and he focused on Gil's smiling face. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Gil stood and leaned over, dropping soft kisses onto Warrick's forehead and lips. "How ya doing?"

"Better, now that I see you."

"You don't know how happy I am that you see me. You scared us there for a moment. You came pretty close to… Well, let's just say I don't ever want to live that nightmare again."

Warrick lowered his head and swallowed, trying to control himself. "You don't have to tell me. I *did* live that nightmare."

Grissom frowned, "I don't understand."

Tears flowed freely down Rick's cheeks as he raised his gaze to Gil's. "I know it had to be a dream, but it felt so real. You left on a call and then Brass phoned and you'd been in an accident, but you were going to be okay and I saw you and you were getting better and then… then Jim came and said you were… you were… you'd died and I went to see you and you were so cold and I kissed you and I had to say goodbye, but I didn't want to and then I had to live without you and I couldn't and it hurt so bad…"

"Rick. Rick! Baby, it's okay. I'm here." Griss quickly positioned himself so that he was behind Warrick and he could hold him. "I'm right here. See. You can feel me – I'm holding you close to my heart. I'm not going anywhere. You've got to calm down, though."

At the increasing sounds of the monitors, Frank Powell and Stephen Connor raced into the room, stopping abruptly as they took in the scene in front of them. As Gil continued to reassure Warrick, Stephen walked over to the monitor and shut it off, waving the nurse that had followed them in away.

After several long minutes, Warrick gained control of his breathing enough to reopen his eyes and he wondered if he might have fallen back into his hallucination at who he saw. "Stevie?"

Stephen smiled at the hated diminutive. "Hey, Baby Brother. You seemed surprised to see me?"

"I just … yeah, a little. I thought this was just the flu?"

"Yeah, well, you're a typical Connor." Frank joked. "You just had to come down with a new strain. It was all we could do to figure out a treatment and Stephen just had to be here to see you through it."

The younger man smiled up at his brother. "Then I guess I owe you one."

Stephen moved closer and reached out to ruffle the soft, curly hair. "Just promise me you won't scare us like that again and we'll call it even. I must have lost ten years."

Grissom decided to add his voice to the banter as he tightened his arms around his precious love. "Only ten? I'm sure I cashed in about twenty." He dropped a kiss on Rick's forehead. "Not that you're not worth it, but I was planning on using those years to chase you around the nursing home."

The four men all chuckled at the statement and Frank moved closer to Stephen, wrapping his arm around his lover. "Maybe, if we're lucky, we can find a retirement home that'll take all of us. Might be fun, growing old and crabby together."

Warrick snorted. "Growing? You guys aren't too far off from being crabby now."

"Watch it, Ricky. I know things… little doctor things that could make your recovery a whole lot more uncomfortable," Stephen threatened as he glared at his younger sibling. Turning back to Frank, he winked at him. "Besides, no place would be able to handle all four of us. We'd do better setting up our own home."

Frank grinned, "Yeah. We could gather all of our pensions together and settle in a nice, large house and hire a full-time nurse that understands old people and just loves giving sponge baths…"

As Frank continued on with his vision of the future, Griss pulled Rick closer to him and settled in. Everything in the universe was as it should be and he was eternally grateful. He figured he couldn't be any happier. Because within his arms he held his heart and soul and that was all that mattered.

Das Ende

 

Dr. Stephen Connor and Frank Powell

Relativity

. Meeting the Family by jhourdhaun

. Family Vacation by jhourdhaun

. Heart and Soul: What If... by jhourdhaun

. Finding Warrick by jhourdhaun

. Fixing the Mistakes by jhourdhaun

. To Hell and Back: Relativity Timeline by jhourdhaun

Out Of Sync, Prologue by jhourdhaun