A friend in need….
It had all happened so quickly. He had been at work - everything normal, working on a case - and then it had all gone…weird. Scary weird.
Nick had woken sore and bruised in a hospital bed. The last thing he remembered was going to a suspects house, commenting to Warrick on how good his cable TV service was, and next thing he's in pain and surrounded by beeping machines, Warrick and Sara by his bedside.
They had filled in most of the blanks while they waited for a final assessment from the doctor before he could be released. He was alone for only a couple of minutes and, in that short space of time, had been grabbed from behind by the suspect and thrown out of the second story window. Concussion, two cracked ribs, a sprained wrist and five stitches to the forehead. As the doctor had told him on discharge - he had luck on his side - it could have been a lot worse. Holly Gribbs was a testament to that.
Warrick and Sara had taken him home and gone back to the lab and he had only just walked in, taken another Vicodin for his pain and settled on the sofa when Grissom's strange little psychic man arrived, knocking on his front door and demanding to be let in. Ordinarily, Nick thought, that would have been extraordinary. On this night, however, that was the least of it. The next sequence of events happened in a blur, partially, Nick suspected, due to the pain medication already making him feel as if he were in a dream. He had let Mr Pearson in, had received the anxious phone call from Grissom and, within minutes had watched as the psychic had fallen through his ceiling, dead, followed by another man - dressed in Nick's clothes - who, apparently had been nesting in his ceiling. A bizarre one sided conversation followed as Nick tried to figure out what in the hell was going on without antagonising the man who was holding his own spare handgun. Then utter confusion.
He remembered vividly the man telling him "I just want you to remember my name." before the scuffle. Then the sounds of crashing as his front door was smashed in and yelling as Brass and 2 uniforms burst into his home and pulled him away from the stranger. Nigel Crane. Nigel had got his wish - Nick doubted he would forget that name again. Ever.
Now he was standing, shaking like a leaf and with his left arm still waving in the air clutching his gun which he had just wrestled off Nigel Crane, while Brass and the uni's subdued and handcuffed his uninvited guest.
They had dispatched with the aim of just stationing the two uniforms outside the entrance to Nicks home and, instead, heard the single gunshot as they had got to his door. Jim had been as scared as hell when he'd heard the shot, and more relieved than he could remember when he'd seen Nick alive.
Brass stood up straight and turned to make sure the kid was OK. He looked at him, concern evident, as he covered the distance between them quickly and reached out to place a steadying hand to the back of his neck. He couldn't tell if Nick was going to start crying or collapse - the boy was distraught. Jim smiled at him gently as he tried to make eye contact - to anchor him back.
"Its done." he said simply, "OK? It's done."
He heard Nick mumble out an " 'K." but could still feel the full bodied tremor rippling through him.
"Come on, kid. Let's get you sitting down, OK?" Jim kept a careful watch on his young colleague as he guided him away from where his boys were dragging Crane to his feet. Nick tried to watch, his addled brain focusing on the movement. Jim moved to position himself between Nick and the others, bringing his hand up to Nicks chin and turning his head back to face him.
"Its over, Nick. You don't need to look at him anymore, OK. Let's go take a seat over here." Taking hold of Nicks arm, he guided him over to the kitchen and sat him on a stool behind the counter, his back to the living room. Nick wrapped his arms across his chest protectively and sat looking at the floor, still visibly shaking. Jim sighed, walked out of the kitchen and did a quick sweep of the house, finally finding a blanket before returning and wrapping it tightly around Nicks shoulders.
He heard a very soft "Thanks." before pulling his cell out of his pocket and calling Grissom.
A brief conversation later, and Jim pressed the 'call end' button and turned his attention back to Nick. He had arranged with Gil to bring him back in to the lab - they would arrange a bed for him somewhere during the night. Grissom was busy liaising with Ecklie for his day shift to cover the necessary processing of Nick's home.
Brass looked back at him - his head had dropped down almost to his chest and, while the shaking had mostly subsided, the exhaustion had kicked in.
"Hey, kiddo, I'm going to pack you an overnight bag and take you into the lab so we can sort you out. Anything particular you need for the next few days?" Jim asked.
Nick dragged his head back up and looked around what used to be his living room. Maurice Pearsons' body remained in the middle of the rubble from his ceiling and there was dust and plaster coating everything. He still couldn't quite get his head around what had happened during the last hour. His eyes found the bottle of Vicodin on the counter and he pointed at them as he mumbled, "Drugs. 'S'all"
Brass' eyebrows flicked up and he smiled as he put the tablets into his jacket pocket and went through into Nicks bedroom to pack up some things for him. He threw some extra clothes, toiletries and the book which had been sitting on his bedside table into a backpack before he headed back out to the kitchen.
Nick was sitting with his head hung low and both hands covering his face.
"You OK?" Jim asked quietly. Nick scrubbed at his face with obvious exhaustion before dropping his arms back heavily to his sides. The barest of shrugs was the only response to the question.
Jim stood in front of him and put a hand to Nick's forehead, using his thumb to prize wide open first one eyelid then the other, doing a rudimentary check of his pupils. When he'd finished, he gave the younger man a gentle smile and moved his hand to the back of his head. Nick dragged his tired eyes up to meet the captains.
"You ready to go?" Jim asked quietly.
Nick nodded his head almost imperceptibly and pushed himself painfully to his feet.
He shuffled towards the door like an old man with Jim keeping a guiding hand on his shoulder.
They made it to Jim's car and Nick eased down into the passenger seat, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest to brace his ribs. Jim leant across him to fasten his seat belt before getting into the drivers seat and starting the engine. He cast a look across at Nick, who had closed his eyes again and lay his head against the cool glass of the car window. Jim doubted he would make it back to the lab without falling asleep.
Surprisingly, after several minutes of what Jim suspected was a power nap, Nick was awake and more alert than he'd been since Maurice Pearson and Nigel Crane had come crashing down through his ceiling.
They had barely made it through the entrance to the lab before they ran into Catherine. She had clearly been waiting for them to arrive. She made her way straight to Nick, an anxious frown on her face as her hands moved to the dressing on his forehead. She stood back a step and appraised him with a mothers concern before sighing audibly and pulling Nick into a quick embrace.
"Thank God you're alright." she muttered softly.
Nick thought better than to comment on her use of 'alright' at the moment.