Chapter 2

How long had he been there? He had no idea of the exact time as he didn't have a watch anymore – as far as he knew, it had been broken during his rescue when the explosives under the box had gone off and he had hit the ground, and so they had simply thrown it out when they had gotten to the ER. All that he knew was that the sun was setting, though he couldn't bring his mind to make an educated guess as to the time the sun usually set. Having not gone anywhere or done anything for however long, his mind had slipped in and out of awareness dozens of times.

He wasn't sure when the tears had started to roll down his cheeks, only knew that his eyes were constantly burning with them, his vision swimming occasionally as they waited to fall. If possible, he shivered even more, his frame occasionally wracking with sobs as well as he saw in his mind's eye those terrible glass walls, around him, all around him, boxing him in, surrounding him entirely and yet giving him full view of the dirt outside it, the dirt that was just waiting to pour in and suffocate him, to pour in and bring with it the insects that would eat him alive, their bites stinging one after the other until his mind finally managed to block it all out. Then suddenly the fan shut off…

Again he came back to reality as the flashback had physically caused him to start choking and gagging, hands clutching his throat as this imaginary loss of air hit him. It was a long moment before the feeling passed, and he slumped forward once more, even more drained than before as the effects of two days without food or sleep started to sweep over him, increasing the shivers and forcing him to wrap his arms tightly around himself once more. This done, he let his gaze shift down to the gun at his side and he saw that the clip was indeed secured in the butt of the weapon, no doubt still full of bullets. His subconscious practically dared him to try to pick it up just so that he could put it down again and prove to himself that he was above that kind of relief, but at this point, he was so tired that he didn't feel like moving anything at all, never mind going through the effort of picking up the no doubt heavy hunk of metal in his hand.

As the tears continued to fall and the sun continued to set, he glanced around himself at the empty rooftop of his place of work and found himself with a slight smile on his face, one of minor relief and satisfaction: if they even noticed he was missing, they probably wouldn't even think to look up there, and so at least he could be alone where they couldn't see him like this again.

He sighed deeply and continued to shiver, his thoughts inadvertently wandering back to the box and the dim green glow around him.

After waiting five hours to get clearance to look over the traffic feeds, the team had collectively spent the next the next ten going through the appropriate timeframe for each, it being noon the next day by the time they'd finished the first half. Had they known which streets to look at, it would've been a lot easier, but for the moment they did the best they could with what they had.

It had only been ten the previous night when Grissom had sent Warrick and Catherine to see if Nick had made it home but simply wasn't answering his phone. They had been hopeful en route, wishing feverently that when they knocked on that door, their friend would open it and ask what the emergency was, but still be fine. However, their hopes were once again crushed. There was no answer when they knocked and when they let themselves in quietly, using the spare key, they found the entire house to be dark and empty and exactly the way it'd been since Nick had been kidnapped the week before, not a thing out of place – he hadn't come home yet at all.

Presently, when it was six the next night and Grissom, Sara, Greg, and Archie had gotten started on the next chunk of traffic feeds, Warrick and Catherine each hung up their phones simultaneously, having just spent the past hour phoning every motel and hotel in Vegas, asking each one if a Nick Stokes had rented a room and getting a polite 'no' in return from all of them. They had just been about to try phoning Nick himself again when they heard Greg cry out from his workstation.

"I've got it! I've got him!" he said excitedly, and everyone rushed over to stand around him, staring at his screen. Sure enough, once zoomed in, the traffic feed gave full view of their co-worker, the image leaving them quite a bit more nervous than they had been before. Nick looked gaunt, pale, and bone-tired. His clothes hung from his body like they would a coat hanger and his walk was more of a tired shuffle as he traveled down the sidewalk, right next to the street. However, what got them most was the look on his face. Even looking at it through a video recording, they could clearly see the shell-shocked expression he bore, as though he simply didn't know what to do with himself. For the next hour they followed his movements, sometimes fast-forwarding, through the streets of Vegas, until they came to the end of the tapes, and found something that they, much to their self loathing, hadn't even thought of until now: Nick had turned off into the lab parking lot at approximately one the previous afternoon.

This left all of them scrambling to get to the security videos of their lab, Archie being the first to access them, pulling up the one for the main lobby first. Standing around his chair to watch, the team saw that when Nick had walked through the front doors, the receptionist wasn't at her desk and the lobby was empty, allowing Nick to continue on, unquestioned, through the halls. Camera by camera, they watched him slowly make his way through the building, not encountering anyone, until he found his way to the one place they had all been dreading: the stairs that led to the roof.

Immediately they all raced out of the room and took off running down the hall, Grissom pulling out his phone and hitting the speed dial as they went. He didn't even let Brass speak when the line picked up.

"Brass! We found him – he's on the roof of the lab. We don't know what condition he's in, so have paramedics on the stand by and get over here." And with that he hung up and turned off his phone, continuing on with the others until they finally came to the door that Nick had gone through. Whipping it open, Warrick led the way up until they made it to the door that led outside and Grissom stopped him from opening the door right away by calling his name.

"Warrick – " His hand stopped turning the knob and he looked back at his boss. "This goes for all of you," Grissom started, looking around at each of them. "Exercise caution when we find him, for obvious reasons. Split up, search the roof – whoever finds him first, stay with him; we'll all find you eventually." And with that, he nodded for Warrick to ease the door open. The warm blast of air hit the group head on as they stepped out onto the darkening rooftop. Without a word, they each walked in separate directions, Warrick taking the far left, Greg the far right, and the other three the middle, each walking slowly, carefully, looking behind each crate and around each corner.

Warrick was halfway across the roof's full expanse when he found him. For a second, the sight left him unable to move any closer, unable to say anything, practically unable to even breathe. Nick was sitting on the ground, propped up against the concrete ledge with his legs bent up in front of his face, his bare arms wrapped tightly, protectively around his torso. What really got him though was the shivering that had completely enveloped his body, despite the oven-like temperature outside, and the fact that even in the dim light, Warrick could see the tears pouring down his friend's face while his eyes remained squeezed shut. The quiet whimper that sounded shook Warrick from most of his shock and, keeping his distance, he decided to speak.

"Nick…" After he had uttered that one word, his friend suddenly opened his eyes and, moving faster than he had seen him, or any cop, move, he whipped his gun out of the holster that Warrick hadn't even noticed and used his free hand to hold himself up while he swung his other one around to aim at Warrick, his eyes wide with terror.

"Whoa! Nick! It's okay! Easy, it's me…Warrick…" he said desperately, and was immensely relieved when Nick blinked hard, looking at him again before lowering the gun and slumping back against the ledge, breathing deeply and raking a trembling hand over his face as he spoke quietly.

"Jesus, Warrick, man, you can't sneak up on a guy like that," he breathed, unable to keep the slightly subsiding fear from his voice. When he had faintly heard a voice enter his thoughts and had suddenly felt the presence of another across from him, his subconscious had feared the worst and he had reacted out of panic and instinct combined – now he was merely relieved that he hadn't shot his best friend.

Warrick cursed himself for being so stupid – walking up to him like that in the dark without any warning, after what he'd just been through was bordering on heartless compared to what his friend deserved from him. However, he didn't miss it when Nick's fear and minor relief morphed into fear and apprehension when he placed the gun on the ground and lowered his hand, not bothering to try to swipe at the tears that still fell as he looked up at him.

"So, what brings you up here Rick?" he asked with a sorry attempt at casualness, once more wrapping his arms tightly around himself as the shivers started up again. Hesitating for a moment, Warrick took a step towards Nick, startled when Nick inched himself further down the ledge, away from him.

"You, man," he whispered. He didn't expect to see his friend flinch and turn away. He didn't think he'd ever seen this many tears come out of anybody.

"Why?" His voice was hardly more than a whisper but it carried to Warrick's ears, causing him to stare at him in disbelief. Nick refused to meet his gaze, instead gazing vacantly past his legs. Kneeling down in front of him in his line of sight, but deciding not to try to go any closer, Warrick swallowed his guilt and tried to keep his voice steady.

"Because you're my friend – I can't just let you self-destruct," he answered softly. For a brief second, Nick's eyes met his and he felt the breath leave his body at the utter despair he found in those brown depths before Nick could look away again. He felt the guilt resurface with a vengeance - it shouldn't have been Nick who was abducted at that crime scene; it shouldn't have been Nick that was burried alive in that box; it shouldn't have been his cheerful, optimistic friend that spent twelve hours wondering if he was going to live or die, wondering if his friends would find him before he ran out of air or if he was going to slowly suffocate, alone, afraid... Warrick gazed saddly at the man, knowing that it should be he himself that was like this, hating the fact that for some reason, fate had decided to step in and deliver another staggering blow to a man who'd already endured too much, choosing instead to spare his best friend, the apparently 'lucky' Warrick Brown.

'Look what I've done to you Nick,' he thought despairingly to himself. 'I've killed you…'

Nick's response was laced in exhaustion and came out choked.

"Just leave me alone." Nick couldn't stand to see Warrick look at him like that, looking at him with an expression that said that he remembered that night clearly, and that he was afraid that if left alone, he would crumble. Not that he didn't feel like doing just that, but the last thing he wanted was for his friends to see him like this, a frail shell that had apparently had enough but couldn't bring himself to do anything about it.

Hearing footsteps approaching, both men looked up quickly, Nick flinching again and quickly looking away as they both realized who it was. Grissom led the way forward, the group only noticing Nick once they reached Warrick's side. At first, like Warrick had before, they could only stand and stare in shock at their friend who was shaking like a leaf, tears staining his cheeks, and who hadn't spoken a word as of yet. The toll of the last week and a half was obvious in his thin, slouched frame and the dark rings under his once sparkling eyes.

Trying to maintain a more casual air, Greg, Sara, and Catherine leaned up against the ledge a little ways away from Nick, Grissom joining Warrick in kneeling before speaking, choosing his words carefully.

"We've been looking for you – we were worried when you didn't call us, or answer either of your phones when you were discharged from the hospital." At this, Nick removed one arm from its place wrapped around his middle, reaching one shaking hand down to his belt and unclipping his cell phone before opening it and looking at it closely, giving a small ghost of a chuckle as he did.

"I guess I just forgot to turn it on when I left – forgot that they would've turned it off in the first place when it was at the hospital," he said quaintly, returning the phone to its holder with difficulty before returning the arm to its place and his gaze to his knees in front of him. "And I haven't really gotten around to being home yet – needed to clear my head a little."

For some reason, the fact that he at least admitted to not having gone home was a little comforting, in the sense that he wasn't trying to cover up the fact that everything wasn't all right. Again, it was only a little comforting, for just by looking at him, they could guess on their own that he hadn't slept at all yet and more than likely hadn't eaten anything, a dangerous game to play with a body still recovering from serious anaphylactic shock and dehydration.

It was then that each of their eyes landed on the handgun lying beside its holster at Nick's side, the safety on the weapon already off. Swallowing hard to wet his suddenly dry throat, Grissom tried to ask the question as casually as possible, though even to his own ears it sounded to be anything but.

"So is that why you came up here? To clear your head?" At this point, Nick finally looked up, but none present knew how to feel about the look on his face that all but screamed that he had expected this, expected it, and dreaded it. The worst of it was, there was a dulled sense of betrayal etched into his eyes that gave Grissom the feeling that he'd just made a terrible mistake.

However, rather than lash out, Nick's response to the obvious question was quiet, though trembling.

"You think I'm suicidal Griss?" He had known that this would be their reaction to him; he had known that they would be disappointed in him, would think that because of that night, he would choose the easy way out, but he had just hopped to have more time to come up with some sort of defence before he was forced to face that disappointment.

It was more of a statement than a question and Nick's forwardness left him as well as the other four without a voice as Nick shook his head sadly, at the same time carefully reaching over and picking up the gun once more, holding it with both hands as he looked from it to his boss.

Seeing the weapon suddenly in their friend's hands made them all tense up, ready to throw themselves at him to prevent what they all feared would happen from happening. However, contrary to what they were waiting for, the barrel never found its way to the side of his head or his chest, but remained instead resting in the palm of one of his hands, his eyes never leaving it.

"If I was, I would've held this barrel under my chin and pulled the trigger while I was still six feet underground in that glass coffin after the first six hours. I wouldn't have waited until you guys found me, until you could see how far I'd fallen for yourselves before I went." His eyes slowly shut against the fresh flow of tears that fell silently, without a single sob from the one shedding them.

The rooftop fell into an uneasy silence, none of the CSIs knowing whether to first be relieved with this confession, or to skip right to becoming even more concerned. If they didn't know any better, they'd have sworn that Nick had sounded ashamed as he spoke – just how far had he fallen? Would they be able to pull him back? One thing was for sure: they had to try.