What a Beautiful Mess

There was nothing he could do. Being confined to the small room was irritating, and knowing that the doctors had plenty of reason to keep him lying down wasn't the least bit comforting to him. The words 'minor concussion' weren't ones he had ever thought he'd hear applied to himself in his entire life.

And there they were.

Grissom sighed quietly, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, and seeing anything but the tiles above his head. There were always three groups when it came to crime.

First were the criminals themselves, then their victims, and finally the group Grissom, himself, was in. Justice. He had always been a Crime Scene Investigator. Always searching for the clues that would bring justice to everyone, trying to give the victims what they deserved by putting the people that hurt them behind bars.

Except now things weren't so clearly defined. He had been held at gunpoint, completely defenseless. Under the mercy of another human being, and that was a position he had never been in before. It made him wonder how the others dealt with such issues. Sara had been a victim when she was only a little girl. Catherine knew what it was like as well.

And now even Warrick, Greg, and Paul knew as well. Then there was Nick, and a long road he didn't want to go down. Before this night, he had never had even the slightest notion of how hard it must have been for Nick to go through so much. Even now he couldn't begin to imagine what had happened in that building before he had gotten there.

His eyes opened slowly, trying to adjust to the dimly lit room. Everything around him was soft, all the colors a gentle pastel. It was a definite change from the stark contrast of moonlit rooms and the glaring lights of both Vegas and the flashing red and blue of both police cruiser and ambulances.

The weight keeping his arms from moving confused him until he saw the two forms using the side of his bed as a pillow. Seeing both Catherine and Warrick there made his eyes well with tears, as he wondered why they'd bother to stay with him. He hadn't expected to really live through the past night, nor had he ever expected that either of them would really want to see him again. Old fears and shame were retaking their hold, as was the guilt of only making things worse for everyone involved.

He was sobbing silently when Catherine's eyes slowly opened. The sight of tears acted as her alarm clock, immediately snapping her out of the groggy state her mind was in and moving closer to him. Her hand quickly landed on his cheek, preventing him from turning away from her. Nick couldn't get his mind to work well enough to understand why they'd still be there, why Catherine still cared about him after everything he had done.

"I… I'm sorry." His voice was raspy, and he barely recognized it as his own.

Catherine shook her head, her ruffled hair falling forward into her face. She quickly put a finger to Nick's lips to silence him, making sure her eyes never lost contact with his. "Don't you dare apologize to me. Not after… after what you did last night. The only thing I'll let you apologize for is for trying to blame yourself, and maybe for letting your left arm get twisted like that."

"It was all my fault. W-we never should have even been there… should've just been me."

"Nick- don't do this to yourself…"

He couldn't make himself wait for her to finish before he started up again though, tears falling along his face, the shimmering trails tearing away at Catherine's heart. "I… why is he still here? How can he even look at me? It's my fault he ended up in that… that… It's my fault. I put him there, and I couldn't even get him out."

"First of all, Nick- you didn't put him in that god damn box, got it? Second- if he had any idea that you were blaming yourself for this he'd knock some sense into you. The two of you are best friends, through thick and thin. He doesn't blame you Nick; no one blames you for any of this."

"I-is it ever… is it ever gonna stop?" He whispered, more or less simply mouthing the words, as if voicing the question to loudly would make it far too real.

Catherine wasn't exactly sure how to answer the question, and it showed in her eyes. She had no idea what Nick was referring to. The list of possibilities was far too great for her to be able to narrow it down. "No one is going to hurt you now, Nick… you're safe. We're all safe."

"I can still feel them… all of them…" Nick let his voice trail off before closing his eyes and willing the tears to stop. "No… not gonna do this again- not anymore." He hadn't meant to say the words out loud, but a quick glance at the confusion on Catherine's face was enough to tell him the words had been spoken.

"What aren't you going to do, Nick?"

"Please… you sh-should go, now. It's too much. All you've done for me; I… I don't deserve it, Catherine. You don't deserve to have all my problems unloaded onto you. I should be able to do this on my own. For the past year all I've done is-"

"All you've done is let your friends help you through some really tough times. There isn't a time limit on how long it takes you to get past any of this. You're not a burden Nick, you never were, and you never will be. All we want is to find a way past this, for all of us, and we're not gonna leave you behind."

She smiled softly and placed a gentle kiss to Nick's forehead before she wiped away his tears with her slender fingers. "We love you Nick. You're the best friend anyone could ever hope for."

It was over. David had left what seemed like an eternity ago. The dayshift team had arrived, and had immediately begun the task of their tedious processing. Brass was thankful for the fact that the building had been closed off to the public due to the renovations it had been undergoing. A large crowd of possible suspects would only have served to make his headache even worse.

Having Annie there helped, but there were far too many cameras flashing all around him. Vega was still there, having denied any attempts to help him. Vartann and Sofia were somewhere inside along with half the other detectives on the police force. Even the rookie CSIs had been called out for this one, being told to process the floors where there was no real suspicious activity. The rest of the building was being processed as quickly as possible.

His eyes traveled over to where the Sheriff, and Ecklie were both trying to explain the situation to the press. Reporters, and the countless flashing cameras were all trying to gather as much as they could, the enormous mob of people were incapable of patience when it came to getting the story that would be plastered over the front page of every newspaper for well over a month.

He sighed and turned away from the scene, leaving the crime scene tape that was now plastered all around the casino fade from his memory. Instead he stared out towards the desert, through the gaps of countless buildings where the sky was beginning to get a little lighter. Pretty soon the sun would be up, and a new day would be started.

When Annie placed her hand on his shoulder he jumped slightly, and offered her a quick, apologetic look. Images of the team kept running through his mind, and he was surprised to find that his eyes were tearing up when he let himself acknowledge the fact that they had come far too close to being unable to see the sun ever again.

"Why don't I give you a lift to the hospital? There's nothing you can do here anymore. Besides, I'm sure they'll feel more comfortable telling you what happened than anyone else."

"What if I don't want to know what happened in there?"

"Then you listen anyway. They're your friends."

"Yeah, I just… I wish we had found them sooner. In all my years on the force… I've never seen anything like this." His voice was grim, his eyes never leaving the growing orange and red light breaking through the ever-lightening sky. He felt like he was in the middle of a movie, where the soft music would be playing over the ending scene.

Except it wasn't over. He wondered briefly if the entire team would quit, how long they'd be out of the field, and how long it would take for their newest wounds to heal.

Brass shook his head, wondering if it was in defiance to whatever power had allowed such things to happen, or in defiance to whatever terrors would be assaulting his friends. He stood there for a few moments more, still watching the sky until he finally allowed himself to blink and slowly made his way with Annie to the waiting vehicle that would take him to his family.

Greg sat patiently, allowing the two nurses to go about cleaning his cuts and replacing the bandages. It still stung, but it was nothing he wasn't used to. There wouldn't even be scars as the silent reminders that he was a victim.

He knew the term bothered most people, especially Nick. The way he reacted to the word was more than a dead give away. Except, he had grown up in a home where it was okay to be 'weak' as long as you were honest and essentially happy. A small smile crept across his face as he replayed numerous memories where either he or another member of his family had been anything from gloomy and depressed to downright pissed off. The way the rest of the family would get together, and eventually come up with a foolproof plan that would guarantee them at least a smile.

The plans themselves had never worked for Greg. The actions his parents and siblings had taken weren't what had made him laugh or smile again; it had been the simple fact that they wanted to help, the knowledge that they knew something was wrong and loved him enough to try and help him out.

Though he wasn't exactly sure, he had a feeling that his far more hyper side was going to be making several special appearances once they were back in the lab. He had toned himself done almost to an extreme when he had switched careers, becoming a CSI. And while anything he did wouldn't be comparable to dancing around the lab in a gargantuan headdress, it was bound to earn him at least a few smiles.

He smiled slightly, ignoring another stab of pain as the older nurse began cleaning a larger cut on his arm. The embarrassment would definitely be worth seeing his friends smile.

Neither one was sure how long they had been there, unmoving. Nick trying his best to keep his breathing even and calm as Catherine gently kept one hand on his cheek and the other firmly planted on his shoulder. Both were at a loss for words, unable to voice the feelings that were brewing silently in both of them.

Then Warrick let out a quiet groan, before lifting his head a few inches off the bed and trying to slowly let his eyes adjust to the light in the room. The panic attack didn't hit until he saw the brilliant green eyes finally meet his own.

Then he was back in the box. Gun to his chin, Warrick standing over him, frozen from panic. No words were spoken, and suddenly Warrick was gone, scrambling out of the hole, running in blind fear. Leaving Nick alone to pull the trigger. His eyes traveled down to where the broken light was mocking him, the ants crawling in even faster than before, the bites coming more rapidly. All he could do was pull the trigger.

Just before his finger pulled down to secure his sudden freedom from hell he could see Catherine and Warrick standing over him in the hospital room. He looked down to see Warrick's hand clamped tightly onto his own, while Catherine kept a much lighter grip on his still sore left hand. Nick was still trembling violently, and couldn't bring himself to look up into Warrick's eyes.

Instead he focused on the empty paper cup in Warrick's other hand. The cool mixture of water and sweat on his face confusing until he had finally calmed down enough to actually form coherent thoughts. The ability to voice those thoughts was still gone though, leaving them all in an uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry…" Nick finally whispered. They were the only words he could think of to say, after that, all he could do was let the tears fall freely once more.

"Hey… hey, buddy, it's okay man. We're all okay. You don't got a damn thing to be sorry for, all right? It wasn't your fault, Nick." Warrick immediately went off, trying his best to convince Nick that he wasn't lying; hoping it would be enough to at least help the man to start calming down.

He had finally lost it. Any semblance of control was gone, all he could do was weakly cling to Warrick's hand, and hope that what his family was saying was actually true. No one was sure what came next. Each of them struggled to find anything that they could say, but no words came out. After awhile Warrick carefully pulled himself up on the bed so that he was sitting beside Nick, and he gently eased closer, cradling Nick's head as Catherine moved to sit on the other side of the mattress.

It was several more minutes before Nick finally began to fully regain his control. Warrick was still doing his best to push back the images of Plexiglas from his mind, and a quick look at Catherine confirmed that she too was trying to let go.

"Thank you…" Nick mumbled quietly, his eyes drooping slowly, as sleep began to take over.

There was nothing unusual about the lobby. People were coming and going, doctors, nurses, and the occasional patients and bystanders were all present, going about their own lives. The only evidence that anything terrible had happened was the muted news playing on the television set in the waiting room.

Brass sighed, his only acknowledgement that eventually it would just be another memory in what was starting to become a rather sickening list. He absentmindedly began to massage his forehead beneath course fingers, trying to prepare himself for having to face them. The mere thought of ever getting such statements from his team was unsettling, and far past the point of just being unpleasant.

"You're free to go, Mr. Grissom."

"Thank you, uh, when are… my team- they gonna get let out of here soon?"

"Well, Ms. Willows has already been cleared, so have Mr. Sanders, and Ms. Sidle. Mr. Brown is still a slight concern, we just want to monitor him for this next night as well. Mr. Stokes should be just fine, and will probably be out in a couple of days, his arm wasn't broken, and while he'll probably suffer through a lot of fatigue, he'll be fine. Mr. Davenport, he's still up in the ICU, but his doctor said he's seen worse cases make it out just fine. Plus, he's young, and was in good physical health before, it could be awhile still though."

"What about Catherine's family?"

"They'll be just fine, Officer Peterson is currently being monitored, but not given any serious complications he ought to be fine as well. And Evelyn Richards was 'formally' released a few hours ago. All in all, it could have been far worse."

Grissom just nodded along, suddenly unsure if the doctor was right. Of course he knew that they were lucky to have all survived; it would only have taken a couple of seconds for things to have changed, a single event to have ruined everything.

Except, it was hard to feel lucky when someone had gone after everyone on his team. Relief wasn't on his list of words used to describe a situation where his friends and colleagues had come so close to losing their lives. He wasn't about to let his mind dwell on the fact that he had been close to possibly dying as well.

On his way out he paused to look into the room where the nurse had told him that Lindsey and Catherine's mother were in. A slight smile played on his face when he saw Catherine holding Lindsey close. It faded when he saw the older man sitting next to Catherine's mother. With a quiet sigh he turned back to the hallway and moved on, heading for the room where both Warrick and Nick were being held in.

His smile started to come back just slightly when he saw them talking quietly, his mind automatically locking onto their lips, reading what they were saying. It grew a slight bit more when he actually let it sink in that they were talking about rock climbing. After a few moments he decided against entering the room. There was nothing for him to say.

And after giving Brass the best statement of what had happened as he could he didn't really want to talk anymore.

Sara hadn't stayed long after talking to Brass. There hadn't been much for her to say, and from what little she knew it wouldn't have the slightest impact on the case. The only reason for even doing so was strictly procedure. Enough evidence had already been collected to place the few survivors of Caulfield's men in prison.

As soon as her face hit her pillow she had fallen fast asleep, the overload of stress and so many other emotions had left her wiped out.

Everything he had told Brass had already been put into reports. He'd still have to be cleared by a psychiatrist before he'd be allowed to go back out into the field again, but at the moment, work was the last thing on his mind.

It didn't take anymore than a few brief minutes for the stress of that night to catch up with him. His eyes were closed before his head even hit the pillow, and in seconds he was fast asleep, hoping that no one would bother him until he had gotten his fill of sleep.

She had had enough sleep. All she could focus on was Lindsey, and though no one in the room spoke much, just being near each other, and silently resting, and recuperating, was more than enough. So much stress had been lifted from her shoulders in the blink of an eye. Knowledge that rough times were still waiting for them didn't bother her any at the moment though.

Nick was likely to need quite a bit of help, as was Warrick, and she had no doubts that she, herself, would be requiring quite a bit of counseling. Doubts about the strength of the bonds that held their team together were nonexistent. And now that they were all safe once more she found it far easier to accept that things were going to be okay.

Having to tell Brass everything that had happened was something she wasn't looking forward to doing again. The IAB was undoubtedly going to be showing up before too long, but so far everything had still been handled by the department itself. Knowing how close she had come to dying still made her shift in her seat, and knowing that Nick had sacrificed his good arm to save her hadn't consoled her the least bit.

It had also forced to think of just how close she had come to losing her own friends and family, and at the moment she wasn't anywhere near read to deal with the roller coaster of emotions those thoughts would send her on.

They were hurdles she figured could wait to be jumped, at the moment all she wanted to do was hold onto her daughter and thank God that they were all still alive.

He still couldn't really get himself to smile. Even after so long the remnants of his adrenaline rush was still on its way through his system. And what sleep he had gotten had been enough for the moment. The idle conversation he was having with Nick was relaxing. All that came up was simple sports stuff, and the occasional promise that they'd be getting together more between shifts and on their days off.

It simply wasn't the time to try and actually deal with what all had happened. And even though neither of them was really smiling it didn't matter. Both were relaxing, and letting the stress work itself off as best as they could. He had given the statement as best as possible, and he hadn't had much to tell aside from what happened at the school, and after Nick and the others had found him.

It hadn't helped that when Brass started asking questions his mind felt like nothing more than jello, and most of his memories had been hard for him to even describe in words. Nick had been questioned only minutes later, and he could see that it had taken a toll on the Texan. Seeing that much of the guilt was no longer so obviously written on his face was comforting, and he hoped that with time they'd be able to find some semblance of normalcy in their lives. Warrick also had a feeling that he wouldn't be the only one seeking more B&E cases along with other simple, less violent crimes.

Nick's still quiet voice slowly brought him back to reality, and he smiled slightly before answering the question as best as he could after only hearing half of it. If Nick noticed he wasn't saying a thing. All thoughts of what was to come was pushed back for the time being, and he didn't have to work hard to focus on the conversation they were engaged in.

He actually felt normal. There wasn't much reason why, but simply lying in his bed and talking about all sorts of things with his best friend was the only thing he wanted to be doing. Nick felt comfortable, and even the pain seemed to be taking a break from tormenting him. It was one of the moments that he actually wished would never end.

Though a lot of his lost strength and energy had started to recover he was still exhausted. As for the memories; they were still too fresh for him to actually want to recall too many of them. That was a problem that had plagued him repeatedly when Brass had asked him what had happened.

Nick could have sworn that he had actually relived the entire night once more. The sounds of men screaming until finally cut off when they met their death. He had essentially lost the fight for control when he had told Brass how he had knocked the two men off the roof of the casino, and the fact that he had actually shot numerous people had taken most of his strength. He hadn't even been able to tell him how he had failed to free Warrick from his glass coffin, and was glad when Warrick didn't say anything about it either.

There was still so much guilt for everything that had happened. And while most of his actions had been justified there was no mistaking the fact that he had come seriously close to sacrificing his own life for the others. He didn't want another investigation, he didn't want to have to answer any more questions than he already had.

Which was exactly why he was glad that Warrick hadn't brought up anything that had happened to them. There was still far too much to process, including the fact that his friend had told him that he was finally letting go of the guilt that he had been holding in for so long. It still simply wasn't enough to rid him of the shame he felt for being unable to get his best friend out of a hell that he had been glad none of his friends had been caught in.

His thoughts eventually drifted back to the case, images of the poor kid being killed because a single lunatic had wanted a place in the big leagues. All he had now was a cold slab in the coroner's office, and even that wasn't permanent. Ty Caulfield would be forgotten, just another faceless monster in a long line. The way Nick saw it; the only reason the press would carry the story on for more than a single day would be because Sam Braun was involved.

He'd be glad when it all started to go away. A slight spasm of pain in his arm brought his attention once more to the laid back conversation he was sharing with Warrick At the moment it was more than enough to satisfy him.

They were all safe. He still had his family and his friends, and they still had him.

To Be Continued…

Notes: Sorry this took so long to update, but our new computer should have been here at least a week ago, instead it still hasn't gotten ordered, etc… basically one big mess, but I finally got around to finishing this chapter, and ended up taking it to school so I could post it. Hope you enjoyed it, and that it was worth the wait. The next (and final) chapter will hopefully be up in a week, but I can't make any promises.