Spoilers: Season 1 to Present

Warnings: Language, adult content, some violence, and a little supernatural stuff I guess.

Disclaimer: Don't anything or anyone.

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Nick Stokes couldn't suppress his laugh any longer. He let it escape from his throat in a short, dry puff, giving off more of a sarcastic expression than humorous despite the fact that he found his current predicament to be quite humorous. He looked around him slowly, carefully taking in all of his surroundings while thinking about how he got to where he was right now in the first place. It all seemed to have been blown out of proportion to him at first, but now, looking back, he was starting to think otherwise.

Nick didn't actually believe that you could literally force someone to do something. You could threaten them and do all sorts of things until they did whatever you wanted them to do, but it was very hard to actually physically force someone to do something. So when Brass and Grissom told him they would force him to go see the grief counselor, Nick ignored it because he didn't think they could actually make him to do it. Grissom could threaten him with a suspension, but he knew he would never do that because they were so shorthanded as it was, and he wouldn't want to risk making Nick act worse.

The problem was, Nick's behavior was "simply unacceptable," as stated by Brass. After chasing down the guy dressed as a police officer that was robbing liquor stores without backup, Grissom gave Nick a brief reprimand, and the whole thing was soon forgotten. But then Nick kept doing stupid things and acting like an idiot, and Grissom and Brass had had enough of it. They were more worried than anything, so they confronted him about it. Nick shrugged it off as no big deal, but the older men didn't agree. They wanted him to go talk to Dr. Alwick, who was more than willing to see Nick. The Texan, on the other hand, wasn't so compliant.

Which is how he ended up handcuffed to the chair in Dr. Alwick's office. Brass and Grissom, with the help of Greg and Archie, had taken hold of Nick, dragged him upstairs to the office, and handcuffed him to the chair. They gave Alwick instructions not to release Nick until he cooperated and to feel free to take any measures she saw fit to help him, ultimately with the loss of his best friend.

Nick laughed again as he lifted his hands up off his lap, pulling slighting at the handcuffs keeping him in his seat. He had been wrong about Brass and Grissom not being able to force him to go see the counselor. They forced him to go, and now they were forcing him to stay.

Dr. Alwick cleared her throat, which got Nick to instinctively look up at her. "If you don't mind, I'd like to begin," she said.

Nick didn't say anything, he just looked right at her with a blank expression. He learned a trick from his older brother Ryan when he was little that when someone is asking you a lot of questions you don't want to answer them, stare right at them with no expression because they won't be able to tell what you're thinking. If you look away, they'll know you're trying too hard to not seem interested, which means you are in fact interested. So Nick just looked back at Alwick, who seemed to know what he was doing.

"Don't you want to talk about why you've been acting to recklessly?" she asked. Nick offered no response. "The sooner you start cooperating, the sooner you get outta here."

Nick just stared back at her, exhibiting no emotion. He shifted in the uncomfortable chair slightly, pulling at the tight restraining handcuffs around his wrists gently. He took a deep breath, but didn't make it known to Alwick. He was glad that she had just met him, because anyone he worked with knew him well enough that he gave everything away in his eyes. That was how Catherine had known he wasn't doing so well, which was added to by his overall idiotic behavior.

"Why don't you want to talk?" Alwick asked.

"Because you can't help me," Nick replied, much to Alwick's surprise.

The psychiatrist frowned slightly. "How can you be so certain?"

"The only person who could help me is dead," Nick said. "And the other people who could help me brought me here and handcuffed me to this chair."

"They're trying to help you," Alwick said. "That's what I do, I help people with their problems."

"I don't have a problem," Nick refuted. "I'm perfectly fine."

"So you've always chased after suspects with guns by yourself and acted out your emotions? Because I've heard the exact opposite about you, and that's why everyone's so concerned."

Nick knew now that he had started talking, he would have to keep talking to make it seem like he really didn't care. He should have just kept his mouth shut, something he should have learned to do a long time ago.

"I messed up a couple times," Nick answered. "I've been a little overtired and stressed since Warrick died."

"Is that your excuse?"

Nick shook his head. "That's my reason."

"There's more to it than that," Alwick said. "How have you been coping with the loss of Warrick?"

"I haven't," Nick said plainly with a small shrug. "I can't cope with something like that."

"Have you turned to alcohol or cigarettes?"

"No," Nick answered, a little too quickly. "I work until I'm exhausted, then I go home and sleep," he said, and he wasn't exactly lying, he was just leaving out a few major details.

Alwick jotted something down on the pad of paper laying flat on her desk before looking back up at Nick. "Do you feel guilty for Warrick's death?" she asked.

Nick was taken aback by this question, so he didn't answer right away. He didn't really have an answer. He wasn't sure whether or not he felt that it was his fault. No one could have seen it coming, but there had been something clawing at Nick, telling him he could have prevented it somehow. The only problem was, Nick didn't know what he was supposed to have done to save Warrick.

"Do you feel guilty for Warrick's death?" Alwick asked again.

"Yes," Nick answered honestly. "I do."

"Why do you think that it?"

Nick sighed. "Because I've been in situations at least five times in my life where I should have died, but didn't. I've been given so many chances, and he only got one. That's not fair. And I should have went with him. I shouldn't have let him leave the diner alone. He's my best friend, and I knew he wasn't okay. I should have went with him."

"He was your best friend," Alwick said, correcting Nick. He frowned in confusion. "You said he is your best friend, not was."

"What's your point?" Nick asked.

"My point is, the sooner you start realizing that he's not here anymore, the sooner you can get better," Alwick replied.

Nick shook his head. "I don't need to get better, there's nothing wrong with me."

"Is that why you're handcuffed to a chair in a therapist's office?" Alwick said with a hint of a chuckle.

"Maybe you should be trying to help the people that forced me to come here and handcuffed me, because obviously they have some problems of their own," Nick shot back.

Alwick smiled slightly. "Everyone told me you were very sarcastic," she said. "They said Warrick was the same way. You two were a lot alike."

"We're best friends," Nick said, intentionally using the present tense. "We're like brothers."

"Is that why you shot at McKeen when you found him in the woods?" Alwick asked. Nick rolled his eyes, so she elaborated. "The guys in the helicopter that located you for Captain Brass told Internal Affairs, and thanks to your supervisor's constant nagging, they dismissed it as no big deal. But I think it was. Why did you shoot at him?"

"I wanted him to shut up," Nick answered plainly. "He kept talking, and I wanted him to stop."

"Did you want to kill him?"

Nick nodded. "I wish I had."

"You know, for someone who is so honest, you don't seem like the self-destructive type."

"That's because I'm not," Nick replied. "I did a couple stupid things, and my friends overreacted. They've been waiting for me to have a psychotic breakdown for about seven years now."

Alwick nodded slowly. "I understand that you've been through a lot."

"Yeah, whatever. If I promise to be good and stay out of trouble, will you let me go?"

Alwick considered for a moment then responded. "I will allow you to leave and continue to work under that condition, as well as you coming back to see me at least once a week, whenever you can, and actually talking to me about your problems. You need to talk to someone Nick, before you really do have a psychotic breakdown."

Nick sighed heavily before he nodded his head in agreement. "Fine, I'll do it. Can I go now?"

"Certainly. Let me just go get Captain Brass. He has the keys to the handcuffs."

Dr. Alwick left her office, leaving Nick by himself. He sat there patiently, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice. It seemed to him like he never had much of a choice. Everything that happened just happened, and he never had a say in it. It seemed like there was nothing he could ever do to have changed what goes on around him.

Nick felt a headache coming on, so he closed his eyes and tried to relax. He tried to stop thinking about everything that was bothering him and everything that was going wrong in his life at the time. He didn't want to think about losing Warrick and how it hurt worse every single day. He didn't want to think about how helpless and mad he felt. He didn't want to think about anything, but the harder he tried to not think, the more thoughts plagued his mind and made his headache get worse.

Brass came into the office suddenly, disrupting Nick from his thoughts. The police captain roughly grabbed Nick's left wrist and unlocked the tight handcuffs before doing the same with the right. He then firmly grasped Nick's left forearm and yanked him to his feet before leading him out of the office. Dr. Alwick may have returned, but Nick couldn't be sure. Brass whisked him away quickly, as if there were a fire overtaking the crime lab. But unfortunately for Nick, that wasn't the case.

Soon enough, Nick found himself seated in Grissom's office across from his supervisor. He heard a clinking noise, but before he could turned to look Grissom spoke.

"No handcuffs this time Jim," he said, and Nick could hear Brass sigh in defeat. Grissom turned back to his CSI. "I know you bullshitted Dr. Alwick, but you're not going to with us. We know you better than her. Don't lie, and don't act like this is a joke because it's not."

"I don't see what the bi-" Nick was cut off abruptly by Brass smacking him in the back of the head.

"Shut up," he said. "I'm done with you acting like this."

"Jim," Grissom said calmly. "That's not going to work on him."

"Nothing else is either!" Brass yelled.

Nick shook his head slowly. "What the fuck is your problem?" he asked.

"You," Brass said, standing in front of Nick as to block Grissom from protecting him. "You and the way you've been acting. Do you have any idea how much the people around you care about you? I care about you, and I'm not going to watch you self-destruct. I watched it happen to Warrick, I won't let it happen to Warrick." Before Nick could respond, Brass added, "This is exactly why your best friend isn't here anymore."

With that, Brass wisely left Grissom's office so he wouldn't yell anymore. Nick was left shell-shocked, sitting in front of Grissom.

The older man sighed heavily. "He's right ya know."

"No he's not," the Texan replied. You guys are over-"

Once again, Nick was cut off. "We're not overreacting. We're acting before something bad happens to you. We don't want to see you get yourself hurt, don't you understand that?"

Nick shook his head as he stood. "I don't understand anything anymore."

"Maybe if you'd let the people that love you help you, you'd understand some shit a little better," a deep voice from the doorway said.

Nick didn't have to turn around to know who it was, so he didn't. "Why are you here?"

"Greg asked me to come. He's worried about you too, and so I am, along with everyone else. You don't see it, but you need help Nicky."

Nick turned around to face his older brother, Ryan Stokes. Everyone always said that looking at Nick was like looking at Ryan five years ago. They could pass off as twins, and they had actually done so before when Nick had visited Ryan at college when he was fifteen. Ryan and Nick had the same eyes and smile, but you wouldn't know it right now because Ryan was standing with his arms across his chest and his mouth was in a tight line.

"Why are you acting like a complete and total jackass?" Ryan asked.

Nick sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. "Because I'm related to you."

Ryan shook his head. "Knock it off before I beat the hell out of you. This is serious. I didn't fly all the way out here for you to be a wise guy."

After Ryan had graduated college, he moved out to Washing D.C. to start his law practice. He was a 'street lawyer' that defended the homeless and small business from the multi-million dollar corporations. More often than not, Ryan won his client's case, and usually with ease.

"This isn't serious because this isn't serious. I'm fine," Nick replied.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Did you forget that I've known you for thirty-eight years and I know you better than you do? I know when you're lying, and I know when you're not okay. You're not okay Nick, and you're definitely not fine."

Nick opened his mouth to speak, but Ryan continued. "Shut up. We're going back to your house, ordering a pizza, and talking about this until you admit that you're being a dumbass and let people help you. Let's go."

Nick turned and looked at Grissom for support, but his supervisor was smiling back at him. "I like him," he said, motioning to Ryan with his head.

"That makes one of us," Nick mumbled under his breath.