Warrick navigated the halls of the hospital on his way to Nick's room. Sara had stayed through the night, and now it was Warrick's turn to keep watch over their friend. It felt weird to him that they were taking it in shifts, but at the same time, he saw the logic in it.
Entering Nick's room, he found Sara dozing in a chair while Nick tossed and turned fitfully in his bed. Warrick gently reached out and touched Sara's shoulder, gently waking her.
She sat up and looked over his shoulder at him. "Hey."
"Hey. How is he?"
"Not too good. His fever spiked another degree last night. The doctor put him on some new medication, since the infection seems resistant to the last one," Sara explained, pulling on her jacket. Warrick nodded wordlessly. An ache started deep in his chest, the feeling of empathy for his friend. Should have been me. It's my fault.
Sara touched his arm. "Hey. Stop it. It isn't your fault." Scary how she could read his mind. He just shook his head. "Warrick, talk to me."
"I was the one who said we shouldn't tell Grissom he wasn't eating."
"I don't think there was anything even Grissom could have done…" Sara said uncertainly. "Nick was doing the best he could. You shouldn't blame yourself for this."
He sighed in frustration. "It's just…it just as easily could have been me. It could have been me that got tossed out a window. Coulda been me in that coffin. Coulda been me that Parras targeted." He looked at Nick for a long time. "But it wasn't. And part of me…part of me is glad it wasn't." Warrick struggled with himself for a moment, before he forced himself to meet Sara's eyes.
"The other part of me hates myself for thinking like that. I don't want this to be happening to him. I keep thinking, 'it could have been me,' and I know he knows that, but he won't say it. He won't say anything."
"Warrick…it's okay to be glad it wasn't you. It's okay to be grateful that you're still alive," Sara said firmly.
Warrick shook his head again. "I keep thinking how scared he must be. I didn't realize, I didn't know how much something like that sticks with you, even once you're out of the situation. I didn't realize until…" he trailed off. "How can I still be scared, when I know how much more afraid he has to be?" He sat down and put his head in his hands.
Sara put her hand on his back, rubbing the tense muscles there. "It's okay to be afraid. You just can't let it take over your life." Something told Warrick she spoke from experience, and it made him trust her more.
"You should get some sleep," he said, taking in her exhausted appearance.
"I don't mind staying, if you want…" she offered.
"No, it's okay. You have work in a few hours," he replied.
"Okay, if you're sure…" She turned to leave, stopping once more in the doorway. "Don't beat yourself up too much, okay? He's going to make it."
Before he could respond she had slipped out and was gone, leaving him alone with his friend.
"You hear that, Nicky? You're gonna be just fine."
Warrick awoke suddenly, unsure of how long he had been asleep with his head on the side of Nick's bed. He sat up, feeling his back ache in protest.
"Hey, bro," Nick said, laughing weakly.
"Hey, man. How do you feel?"
"I hate that question," Nick said abruptly. Warrick stared at him, then grinned. "What?" Nick asked, slightly annoyed.
"I think that's the most honest thing you've said to me in a while," Warrick said, still smiling, though his words were serious.
"Maybe I'm tired of the way things are," Nick said, with a sigh that was cut off by a fit of coughing.
"What do you mean?" Warrick's smile faded.
"I'm just…so tired," Nick said, looking up at the ceiling and blinking back tears. "I'm tired of being afraid."
Warrick put his hand on his friend's arm. "You don't have to be afraid, Nick."
Nick shook his head. "No one understands. I see it all again every time I close my eyes…"
"So do I." Nick turned to look at him, perplexed.
"I see you with that gun…" Warrick trailed off.
"I'm sorry, 'Rick." Weak coughing.
"Nah, man, don't be. I wouldn't have made it as long as you did," he admitted.
"Yes, you would've," Nick said firmly, startling Warrick a bit. "You woulda made it 'cause you know if you had pulled the trigger I woulda hauled your ass right back here to earth and killed you myself."
Warrick laughed, surprising himself. "Yeah, I guess so..."
Nick coughed very hard, then lay back again. "Warrick?"
"Yeah, bro?"
"I'm tired," Nick said, and Warrick knew this time he meant it more literally.
"Okay, man. Go back to sleep." Nick nodded and closed his eyes.
Just when Warrick thought his friend had fallen asleep, Nick spoke again. "Thanks for saving me."
"No problem, bro," Warrick said softly, smiling faintly as his friend dozed off.
Grissom entered Nick's hospital room to find Nick alone, clutching a small basin and looking a little green.
"Hi, Nick," he said quietly. Nick nodded at him. "Where'd your parents go?" he asked.
"Went to get some lunch," Nick said, then bent to throw up into the basin. Grissom winced.
"Still feel that bad?" Grissom asked sympathetically. Nick wiped his mouth.
"The pneumonia's a lot better, the doc said. Fever broke. Just around a hundred now…" Nick said, seeming to decide to report the good news.
"That's great, Nick," Grissom said, genuinely pleased. "You'll be out of here in no time."
Nick laughed ruefully. "I wish. Doc's not gonna let me go til I can hold down something solid –" he was sick again, and Grissom politely looked away.
"Sorry," Nick mumbled when he was finished.
"Don't apologize, Nick. You have nothing to be sorry for." Nick just shrugged. Grissom changed the subject. "Tell me about your nightmares," he said bluntly.
Nick threw up a bit more, then stared at him. "Why?"
"You and your experiences are part of an active investigation. One of my CSIs once told me I couldn't ignore the human element," Grissom explained. Nick looked up at the ceiling, avoiding Grissom's eyes. He didn't speak for a long time. Luckily, Grissom was patient.
"It starts in the Hendler house." Grissom raised his eyebrows, surprised at this. He hadn't realized… "I'm looking at the gun. I know she's talking to me, but I can't hear anything she says, just the gun cocking and my heart beating. But then she's gone, and I'm running out the back door, but once I get there, I feel someone push me and I fall instead."
Crane, Grissom thought. Nick continued in a rush, as though afraid if he stopped he wouldn't be able to continue.
"I'm falling, I hear the gun cocking, him saying "I am one and who am I?'…" Grissom nodded, but was thrown by Nick's next words. "And you saying 'I don't think it was about you.'"
Grissom frowned at this, unsure, but Nick was oblivious, having looked away when he said that.
"I land on my back in a pit, and the lid of the box swings shut. This avalanche of dirt pours in and covers my box. I scream as loud as I can, but no one comes. Then that voice starts…'Hi CSI guy'…" Nick shuddered, glancing back at Grissom. "I see my parents…my mom crying, and my dad looking sad, disappointed…and Warrick punching the door of his locker… Sara crying, Catherine comforting Greg…and you." Nick stopped.
"What am I doing, Nicky?" Grissom asked softly, almost afraid to hear it.
"You shake your head and just walk away." Nick looked at the opposite wall, avoiding Grissom's eyes. "Then I see Doc Robbins standing over me. He's doing my autopsy. He hands my heart to my dad."
Grissom swallowed hard, waiting for Nick to continue.
"I feel the ants starting to bite, but I can't move, I'm frozen, except my right hand. I reach down and pick up my gun, I put it under my chin. I hear the gun cock and suddenly I'm in a lake, frozen solid, trapped, and I can feel myself being eaten, but I can't move to stop it, I can't do anything, I'm just trapped, hopeless…" Nick trailed off.
"The ninth circle of Hell," Grissom said quietly. Nick nodded, blinking rapidly. "The circle for traitors."
Nick put his hand to his face, pressing on his eyes as though this could stop the tears that threatened to fall.
"Who is it you think you betrayed, Nick?" Grissom whispered. Nick said nothing for a long moment, before finally opening his mouth to speak.
"Myself."