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Nick still hadn’t said a word to her, even hours after she and Gibbs had returned from the downed submarine. Ellie was still shaken up, and struggling to concentrate. She knew Gibbs and McGee were sending worried glances her way, and even Vance had descended from the stairs with a veiled excuse, but ended up hovering around team Gibbs. Ellie had put up a good front, eventually putting the pieces together which closed the case. Taking one last hopeful, but not to be returned, look at Nick, she headed for the elevator after Gibbs’s barked order to “Go home for 48 hours. Minimum.” They all knew she wouldn’t last that long, but she hadn’t bothered arguing. Hadn’t had the energy.
Ellie leant her head against the cool steel of the elevator as it took her to the parking deck. It shuddered to a halt - Ellie was always grateful when it did, with the number of times Gibbs had stopped it, she always half expected the car to bottom out from underneath her, and since the submarine, small spaces made her nervous. Sighing, Ellie dragged herself to her truck. She picked up groceries on the way home - she hadn’t eaten in what felt like days.
Nick, meanwhile, was trying to finish his report, but instead staring at Ellie’s empty desk every other minute. Finally, Gibbs couldn’t take it anymore and caught Nick’s eye, indicating at the corner under the stairs he had taken to using for conferences, rather than the elevator.
“What’s going on between you two?” Gibbs asked, his glare staring through Nick.
“Nothing,” Nick muttered between clenched teeth, but looking his boss straight in the eye, “We’re good friends. That’s all.”
“You’d like there to be something more, though.”
“That’s none of your business,” Nick told him firmly. He meant it, too. If anything happened between himself and Ellie - and that was a really big if - Gibbs would not be the first to know. Ellie would.
“Fair enough,” Gibbs said after a pause, “But Torres?” Nick looked back at his boss.
“If you’re serious, refusing to even acknowledge her presence isn’t the way to continue dealing with the situation.”
“I know,” Nick grumbled, wondering why Gibbs wasn’t bringing up any rules, but deciding to follow his bosses example and not say anything.
“So do something about it. Or don’t. But make a choice. The way things are you’re just torturing her, and yourself.”
“Why do you care so much?” Nick mumbled, not trusting himself to raise his voice.
“Because, Nick, I saw the look on her face as you ignored her, and I’m standing in front of you. And I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.” Nick glanced up at that, but saw the closed expression on his bosses face, and knew better than to ask.
“Go,” Gibbs said with some finality, leading Nick back out to the main bullpen area. Nick looked back at him, and finally nodded, grabbing his stuff and heading towards the elevator and home - or Ellie’s.
He meandered around DC for awhile, without a destination in mind, then finally pulled over in one of the now empty spots along the mall to send a text.
“You in the mood for some company?” It was awhile before he got a response, but he wasn’t surprised. Finally, he saw the three dots moving, indicating she was typing.
“Sure. I’m taking a bath. Bring dinner?”
“Your wish is my command.” Dots again.
“Fajitas?” She was hungrier than she’d realized earlier. She supposed not eating on the submarine had something to do with it.
He smiled, “Okay, but I’m making them.”
“Even better. I’ll leave the front door unlocked.”
While Ellie sunk into a hot bubble bath courtesy of a large section of bright pink Lush bath bomb, Nick drove to his favorite Mexican grocery store, which luckily wasn’t far from Ellie’s apartment.
He knocked out of habit, and heard her voice from the bathroom, calling him in. So he lugged his bags inside, and set up in her kitchen, finding what he needed easily, having cooked with her before. He set the beers to one side after popping the top of one for himself, then began chopping. Ellie emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam ten minutes later, to the sight of his fajita mix sizzling on the stove, his back to her. He turned though, and finally looked her in the eye.
“So we’re talking again?” Ellie asked. She was wrapped in a thick fleece dressing gown, wearing checked flannel pajamas and a faded long sleeved Oklahoma State shirt. Nick smiled. She definitely never felt the need to dress up in front of him. His words caught in his throat though, at the hurt, defeated look on her face. His heart broke in two, because he knew it was more than just the job that was causing her pain - it was him.
“Of course we are, El,” he began, turning the heat down, and facing her, “We never weren’t talking.”
She looked at him, “How were we supposed to talk when you wouldn’t even look at me?” He sighed, and pressed his lips together, gathering himself for a second. Judging the fajita mixture to be done, he turned the heat down to simmer and covered it so it stayed warm.
“It’s me, El,” he said, “It’s me, and dealing with things I’ve been avoiding for far too long.”
“Like?” She whispered, afraid that she’d break down completely if she spoke normally.
“Like my fear of losing people I love,” he barely opened his lips as he spoke.
Ellie forced herself to hold his gaze as she stood, leaning against her counter in her old fuzzy fleece bathrobe and Oklahoma State PJ’s. When she had successfully - mostly - swallowed the lump in her throat, she was able to push one word out, “Love?”
He nodded, “And I know, El. I know it’s an unfair thing to put on you right now, of all times. If you want to end this conversation, we can. I’ll go home if you’d rather.”
She shook her head quickly, knowing she didn’t want him to leave. She levered the top off one of the beers and took a long swig, then clanked it down on the counter next to the stove.
“Okay,” she looked at him, and her heart melted. He’d been there, she knew, through thick and thin. He’d seen her at her worst, and at her best. She knew her feelings for him had veered off from the course of friendship to something more, and knew that, with everything else that had happened, she hadn’t handled it well.
He waited for her to speak, thinking that, if nothing else, she hadn’t run for the hills, or kicked him out.
“I…I don’t really know what to say, Nick,” she said finally.
“You don’t have to say anything, El,” he told her, meaning it.
“Not very fair to you though, is it?” She asked, “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t already made you wait….right?”
“Not on you, El,” he said firmly. It wasn’t, either. He knew his feelings were on him. It wasn’t like she had forced him to fall in love with her. Not knowing what else to do, he started plating the fajitas. He’d already set the toppings on her table, and Ellie grabbed spoons, following him to sit down, carrying her plate and beer.
“When did you know?” She asked quietly, having taken her first bite.
He knew he had to give her an honest answer, “I’ve known there was something for awhile. You knew I’d put feelers out early on?”
Ellie found herself able to smile. This was a lighter, easier topic, though thinking of Qasim still made her sad, so she pushed him out of her mind, “I noticed, yeah.”
“Once it was clear you were taken, I backed off. Shoved those feelings into a corner, especially after what happened to Qasim happened. I’ve been through that myself. I knew I had to be there for you, support you, best I could - as a friend.”
“You did,” Ellie said quietly, “You were - are - the best friend I could have asked for.”
“So they didn’t surface again - feelings, that is - until recently.”
“After Clayton died,” Ellie interrupted, knowing that had been when. It had been when for her too.
“Exactly,” Nick affirmed.
“So,” Ellie ended, “What do we do about it?”
“Depends what you want to do,” Nick told her.
“Doesn’t it depend on someone else too?” She asked, “If we want to keep our jobs, that is.”
“No it doesn’t,” Nick reiterated firmly, “We need to make this decision as ourselves, El. No-one else.”
“Okay,” Ellie said, a little shakily, so she stopped, took another bite of fajita, regathered herself, “Let’s try it. Dating, I mean.”
Nick looked at her, a wide grin on his face, “Is this you asking me out?”
“You started it,” she accused him, grinning back, and suddenly they were back to the easy banter they had always shared.
“Okay, you’re right. Fair point.” He took a deep breath, “Ellie Bishop, will you go on a date with me?”
“Go on a date with you, or date you?” She asked, needing the distinction. If she was going to date him, it was going to be serious from the beginning.
“Date me,” he said, “Marry me, have my babies? Is that what you want to hear?” It wasn’t said in jest. Not really.
“You want kids?” Ellie asked. She remembered the conversation right before Christmas. Her heart had sank a little, because she wanted kids.
“Yeah. I do. I didn’t, for a long time…because…something happened, okay? But Logan-or-Cody, and you, made me reconsider.”
“What happened, Nick?” Ellie asked quietly.
He sighed. He supposed he’d known he would have to have this conversation before they actually dated. Or maybe they already were. He didn’t really know anymore, “Okay. Can we go over to the couch? Have you eaten enough?”
Ellie looked at him sideways, nodding, picking both of their plates up to dump in the sink. She’d deal with them later. Nick carried over the now empty topping bowls.
“Want another beer?” She asked.
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t. I have to drive.”
She shrugged, “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to have one, here.” She twisted the cap off, and passed him a second beer. He took a fortifying sip before jerking his head towards the couch and looking at her in question. She nodded, and let him take her hand loosely in his, then settle her back in his arms as he made himself comfortable in the corner of her couch. He wrapped his arms around her, and she sighed, enjoying the closeness after the stress of being on that submarine.
“Back to my fear of losing people I love,” he began, and he felt her nod against him, listening, “I’d known Sofia since we were five. Our families were friends, and we lived in the same neighborhood. It wasn’t until 11th grade that I fell in love with her, though. Looked at her from the other side of the cafeteria, and just knew one day we’d be married. We went to prom in 11th grade, but then that summer Sofia was diagnosed with leukemia. She beat it into remission the first time, and we had a patchy senior year together. She was always in and out of hospital. I got into the University of Miami for soccer, but that summer the cancer came back. Sofia was back in hospital, and I just couldn’t face college. So I deferred, took community college classes, got a job at a mechanic’s. Sofia came out again, but they had only given her six months. We got married the day she turned 18. She beat the cancer out of herself again, and lived another year. But she was pregnant, which was a miracle in of itself because of all the chemo,” Nick hesitated here, and Ellie grabbed his hands with hers, linked their fingers, “She wouldn’t allow the chemo anymore because of fear of it killing the baby. She was three months pregnant when she died. We hadn’t told anyone.”
“Nick, I…I don’t really know what to say,” she finished somewhat lamely.
“Just be here?” He asked.
“Always,” she agreed.
“So when we heard about that submarine…” Nick trailed off, “I lost it, Ellie. I thought you were…” He couldn’t even say the words.
“I’m still here,” she said, snuggling closer, resting her head against his chest.
“I know,” he let out with a shudder, “I know.” He repeated, playing with her hair, running it through his fingers. He felt her sigh a little, and he brought his fingers closer to her scalp, massaging it. Ellie moaned, and he smiled.
“Are you spending the night?” She asked.
“I guess so,” he told her, “I’m nearly done with this beer. I can take the couch.” He probably could drive on two beers and get away with it, but why take the risk?
“No,” she said, “No couch. I have a perfectly comfortable king sized bed.” She felt his smile.