Disclaimer:If I owned them then the team would still be together, and Warrick would not be dead.
Nick entered his apartment, threw his keys on the table and walked towards his bedroom. He had been at the funeral of his best friend and he felt as if the world was crushing down on him. The rest of the team and Sara were going to an afterwards get together at the church, but he hadn't stayed, he felt the need to be alone, away from the people whom he cared for deeply but if they knew he had let his friend walk to his car alone so he could stay behind to flirt with a gril, they would be so disappointed in him, so let down by his selfishness.
He entered the room and pulled off his jacket, threw it on the bed and loosened his tie as he simultaneously tackled the top button on his shirt as morbid thoughts were trying to creep into his mind, the pain of losing his very best friend was overwhelming him but he couldn't allow the comfort of grieving just yet, it would be too easy to let it go but more difficult to allow it to stay inside and make himself suffer for what he had done. He paused his actions for a second, allowing his hands to fall away from his shirt and to his side, then kicked off his shoes, took a deep breathe and headed for the kitchen to grab a beer.
His motions stopped as he opened the door of his fridge and stared inside, he could not reach for the amber colored drink, a feeling of a knife stabbing him in his heart hit him hard and fast, the thought that he had offered his friend the opportunity to go out for beers after breakfast that morning,the realization that if only he had insisted instead of going for the girl, if only he had only walked him to his car, insisted that he take a few minutes to celebrate his freedom. Instead his friend Warrick had to walk to his car alone, while he flirted with the girl and his friend had died because of his selfish act.
He slammed the fridge door shut and leaned his head against the cold metal door,wanting to give meaning to his friend's death, but finding none.
He should of pulled the damned trigger, he should have killed the son of a bitch instead of just attempting to put a little scare into the sly bastard. McKeen had won, he had deserved to die but he was given the opportunity to live, by him, McKeen's life now would be in the hands of a fair jury instead of the pained man who wanted revenge for his friend . Again he ahd let his friend down.
He slid to the floor and leaned back on the cabinet door behind him,pulling his legs up to his chest he began to cry, the tears came out in deep sobs, the pain in his chest wouldn't let up, it was a pain of letting down his friend, for giving Mckeen the opportunity to harm his friend, for killing his friend and for himself, for not taking care of the bastard who had killed his friend.
He looked back into the living room where his gun sat in the cabinet near the door. He had given thought to just ending his pain when he had been buried alive in that box,his finger had been on the trigger,ready to take that last step, of just pulling the trigger and he would have if it hadn't been for Rick. His friend's face opening up the window from the dirt that had bathed him in darkness. He remembered Warrick's voice being so frantic as he pleaded for him to put the gun down,not to pull the trigger.
He really should have died that day. Warrick was willing to put his life in danger for him as he too was on top of the explosives, but he had failed his best friend so miserably, all he had to do was to walk out to the car that day,that was all that would have prevented Warrick from dying. He could have changed Warrick's fate. He had failed his friend, his team.
He pushed the dark thoughts from his mind for the moment, because right now it wouldn't take much to revisit that feeling of being deserted,of being in a dark place again and he didn't want to enter into that darkness again. It was a bad place for him to be, months of therapy had only told him that bad people do bad things.
He needed a change in his life, Warrick always criticized him for being such a easy target for criminals, he tended to cared too much and his friend saw that as a weakness, a reason that he was so easily targeted by criminals. His friend was right.
He pushed himself off the floor and walked back into the bedroom, grabbing some jeans and a shirt from a drawer he quickly changed his clothes, he knew where he needed to be right now.
He walked out of the house and entered his car, he needed to make a change, a change in himself. He would vow today that he would make changes in the way he looked at criminals, they needed to pay for what they did to people and to their families' lives. He would no longer be sweet Nicky but a man who had a task, a man who would start making a difference and if that endangered his life so be it, he would just remember that his friend gave his life to make that difference, and so would he.
He started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, ready to go to work.
Needing an outlet for that scene where Nick could have pulled that trigger and take the man away that had killed his friend but he stopped himself. I'm glad he did.