Worn Out

It had been a hell of a month. Nick Stokes felt worn out. He was sitting in the changing room at work getting his head together after another busy shift, waiting for his energy levels to increase enough to get him to his car. He was exhausted and he was hurting with grief at the loss of his best friend, Warrick Brown. It had been almost 5 weeks since that hellish night when McKeen had murdered Warrick. The lab was still shell shocked. Grissom was walking around as if in a dream - not interested in anything work related. Sara had come back briefly and disappeared just as abruptly. Catherine was trying to keep it all together. Greg was openly heading to therapy. Nick wished he could do them all - wished he could switch off from work, disappear, keep it together without heading back to therapy. After he's abduction he had gone to therapy for 3 months. It had been mandatory to get back in the field. He had to admit that it had helped at the time and the therapist, Clarence Dawson, had been very easy to talk to once they had had a few sessions. Clarence was a middle-aged African American lady who had the ability to make you feel normal when everything else in life seemed so abnormal. Still, after 3 months he was back on his feet with enough techniques and strategies to get back his life and had bade Clarence goodbye, despite some resistence with the psychologist concerned he may not have been completely ready. Of course, after his abduction he had also had Warrick by his side. He had come around, often just to sit and have a beer or watch a football match, and had never judged him through the tears or his mothers temporary overprotectiveness - the hugs when he would get the shakes and the stroking of his hair in passing. Once he had finally been released from hospital his mother and father had both kept close by. His mother had stayed for nearly a month heading home for longer and longer periods until Nick was finally living alone again. He missed his mothers hugs now. The shakes had come back with avengence after Warricks death when he had held McKeen at gunpoint and would have killed that sonofabitch if his brain hadn't kicked in at the last minute. During Warricks funeral service his hands had begun to shake so much that, despite his attempts to hide it, Catherine had noticed and had held his clasped hands tightly in hers, tears flowing freely for both of them.

Nick stared at what had been Warricks locker. He had tried to keep himself distanced from Warricks death at work. He watched as Grissom became even more socially constipated and had made the unconscious decision to plough ahead with work instead of following his boss' lead. He found it easier not to think about things when he was in the middle of a case and, when he would finally make it home in the morning, he found alcohol a fast and effective way to dull the senses and allow for a painfree sleep sans recurrent nightmares which had plagued him ever since the abduction - mainly when he was physically and mentally exhausted. Usually, at least twice a week he would wake in the evening to find he had simply passed out on the couch, the TV still on and empty bottles across the lounge room table. Listerine and gum had become his new best friend. He knew this wasn't a really healthy way of dealing with issues but figured when the hurting eased in the future he could deal with it then. And its not like it effected his work - everyone in the department was so busy dealing with their own demons that noone would notice the endless lists which he made so he wouldn't stuff up and forget important tasks. This was a little trick that he had picked up a couple of weeks after Warricks death after a particularly hard night on the juice when he had forgotten to label evidence - a mistake not even a rookie would make. It had shaken him to think that he could make such an elementary error and had laid off the booze for a couple of days until he found the pain of grief much more unbearable than the pain of guilt. Then there was the pain of failure. He watched Grissom slowly self destructing at the loss of Warrick. He had listened to Grissom's eulogy detailing the deep love he had felt for him - as a father would love his treasured son. Nick felt the familiar punch of guilt as he wondered quietly if his death would have evoked such emotion from Grissom. For 11 years, Nick had worked hard to impress his boss. Being the youngest child of a Supreme Court Judge and an acclaimed District Attourney, Nick had always had a lot of pressure to achieve. Having 6 older overachieving siblings compounded that expectation infinitely. No matter how good his grades, how grand his achievements, there was always someone in the immediate family who had achieved it first. Escaping Texas and making a new life in Vegas, Nick had hoped he would be able to shine on his own merits. When he had been accepted into Las Vegas Crime lab under Gil Grissoms tutorage, he had been delighted. He would learn from the master and would, one day he hoped, hold the respect and admiration of the one man he now so desperately wanted to impress. He wanted to prove he was more than just some rich judges son who had breezed through life on contacts rather than ability. He had never been that person. He had always had to fight. Moreso than most in the department, truth be told. His father had always stressed that his kids would make it on their own and not rely on their surname. Nick had always felt that he never quite lived up to his fathers expectations - particularly giving up on the family's history of studying law to study instead his new found passion of chemistry and forensics. He had hoped that by getting the respect and admiration of the best CSI in the country, Gil Grissom, that his father would see that Nick was top of his game, like his brother and sisters. Unfortunately for Nick, he had started at the Vegas lab only a couple of months after Warrick and Grissom already had his new project - his 'golden haired' boy. Nick had, instead, become 'Nicky my boy' for a couple of years - the baby of the family again. After his disasterous relationship with Kristy, Nick felt that he had lost any of the respect which Grissom had had for him and instead of being 'the baby' had become 'the bastard stepchild'. What ever he did was being judged. Whatever he said was of little importance. He got under Grissoms feet. He was an irritation instead of a valued team member. So, it was little wonder that Nick found himself wondering if Grissom would have been this bereft had they not rescued Nick in time after his abduction. If it had been Nick in that casket, would Grissom have been standing at the front of the church telling the world how much he had loved Nick. How proud he was of him. How much he'll miss him. Probably not. Guilt and Failure.

Standing up, Nicks vision clouded with unshed tears and his fist slammed into the locker with enough force to make the whole rack of lockers rock back and forward. Catherine, who had been about to enter the locker room just before the locker slam, stood in the doorway, watching as Nick clutched his fist and swore. he lay his head against the cool metal and waited for the throbbing to ease, cursing himself quietly for his impromptu decision to break his hand. He jumped noticeably when he felt Catherine's hand on his back. 'You OK?' she asked quietly - concern clearly evident in her tone. He nodded slightly - soothed by the cool metal of the locker against his forehead and Catherine rubbing his back gently in circles. He stood straight finally and drew a hand across his eyes before turning to give Cathering a forced, slight smile. 'Just tired.' he admitted 'Goin' home'. She smiled back at him - a mothers concerned smile - and pulled him into a quick hug. 'You know I'm always here if you need to talk' she said softly. He nodded against her shoulder before pulling back and collecting his jacket from the bench. 'Yeah, I know. Thanks Cath but I'm OK' he said, 'You heading home yet?' he asked. Catherine gave a short laugh - 'Home? The way my night has been? I think I'll be lucky to get home by Sunday!'. Nick smiled at her as he left the room. 'Take it easy!' he called back at her. 'You too, Nicky' she said quietly, still concerned for him.