Nick awoke a few hours after his conversation with Grissom. His parents were long gone, probably having gone to their hotel to sleep. He wished he could have seen them. He was frustrated with himself for not being able to stay awake for more than a couple hours at a time before needing to sleep, but he couldn't help it.

When he opened his eyes, he found Grissom right where he had been before his nap. "Grissom?"

"Yes, Nick?" he answered, immediately sitting up straighter.

"I'm ready now." He had promised Grissom he would tell him more after he slept.

"Okay." Grissom fell silent. Previously, Nick would have felt unnerved by this, but now he was grateful for the chance to get some things off his chest without interruption.

"You know how what we want usually isn't what we need?" Grissom nodded. "I wanted to forget everything immediately. I thought that if it was over, that meant I should be over it."

"I told Catherine it was what makes a person." Seeing Grissom's perplexed look, he hastily explained. "Experiences, I mean. The things that shouldn't happen, that you learn to deal with." Grissom nodded. "You can't learn anything from it if you forget."

"You don't have to think about it all the time, either," Grissom pointed out.

"No," Nick agreed. "But you have to deal with it. I don't think I ever did that. I let all those things eat at me."

"That's how you betrayed yourself?" Grissom realized.

"Yeah. I let it slowly kill me," Nick said, silently begging Grissom to tell him how to fix this.

"You didn't let it kill you, Nick. You're still here."

"What happened when you were alone with Parras?" Warrick demanded as Nick poked some Jell-O with a spoon. Nick merely shrugged and stared unhappily at the wiggling red substance. "Seriously, Nick. What happened?"

"He didn't say much," Nick finally said. "He knew who I was. He said his name was Mateo Parras and that it was nice to meet me. I was tied to a chair."

"Then what, bro?"

"He cut me up a bit. Hit me a few times…Then he said he wouldn't do anything more…yet," Nick stared at the Jell-O, seemingly afraid to look at his friend.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Warrick asked.

"I don't know. I didn't want to worry you, I guess."

"You've got to quit telling people that it's all good when it isn't, man. How're you ever gonna get help with anything if you're too afraid of making people worry?"

Nick looked up at him. "I know. You're right."

Grissom quietly entered Nick's room, immediately wishing Nick's parents weren't there. He cleared his throat.

Their conversation screeched to a halt as they turned to look at him. "Sorry to interrupt," he said.

"Oh, Mr. Grissom," Jillian Stokes said, standing and smoothing her skirt. "Good to see you."

"You too," he said, smiling a little. "I was hoping to speak to Nick alone for a moment."

"Of course," Judge Stokes said moving to let Grissom move closer to the bed.

Grissom walked over to the bed, taking a seat, as Nick's parents left.

"Hi, Nick," Grissom said as Nick opened his eyes and blinked a few times.

"Hey, Gris."

"I want to talk to you," Grissom began. "I've been thinking about this a lot, and I want to talk to you about how I've been acting toward you these past few months."

"What? Gris, I –" Nick said, struggling to sit up.

"Lie down, Nick. Let me finish." Grissom shifted in his chair, then met Nick's eyes. "When you were newly a CSI, I knew you looked for approval from me. I knew that it was important to you that I thought you were good at your job. And I ignored that."

Nick looked away, eyes downcast.

"I was proud of you, when you stopped looking to me to tell you what was right. When you knew it on your own, and you just did it."

Nick looked up, surprised at his words.

"When you got pulled out of that box…you were scared and confused. You didn't know how to handle it. So you did the only thing that made sense: you reverted back to old behavior from a time when you felt safer."

"I don't –" Nick tried again, but Grissom cut him off.

"I shouldn't have acted annoyed with you, Nick. I should have understood what a difficult thing all of this was for you. I should have realized you needed help and offered it. I'm sorry I didn't."

"I wouldn't have taken it anyway," Nick broke in. "We both know that."

"Why not, Nick?"

"I thought…if I admitted I needed help, then it meant it had really happened. I didn't know what to do about what happened to me," Nick said, tears shining in his eyes, forcing him to look away.

"I know, Nick. I know," Grissom said.

"Why can't I?" Nick asked suddenly.

"Why can't you what?"

"Why can't I ask for help? I know I need it."

"You don't have to ask, Nick. We're right here. We'll help you through this. You don't have to ask."

Nick awoke to find Warrick staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his eyes. He pushed himself into a sitting position, his ribs aching as they were jostled.

"Hey, 'Rick," he said, beginning to feel unnerved by the intensity of Warrick's gaze.

"You talked about the box," Warrick said, dispensing with the greetings.

"I guess…" Nick said, struggling to understand where Warrick was going with this.

"Tell me something else." Nick raised his eyebrows, surprised at that demand.

"Why?"

"I need to know," Warrick said. "I just…I have to understand." Nick shook his head.

"This…this isn't something you want to understand, bro"

"I heard you, the things you were saying, your hallucinations. I can't…I can't hear that stuff and not…" Warrick trailed off, a hint of desperation in his eyes.

"You sure?" Nick asked, reluctant to say anything.

"Yeah," Warrick said definitely. Nick sank further into his pillows, closing his eyes, feeling a headache coming on.

"I was thinking about Shakespeare."

"What? Why?" Warrick asked, confused.

"Nothing was like it should be. 'Fair is foul and foul is fair.' Everything was backwards."

"What do you mean?"

"I would have given anything to be above ground in the light, yet I wanted the light in the box to be off," Nick said, as an example.

Warrick shifted in his chair, his expression very guilty. "I'm sorry…"

"Quit looking like that. You didn't know," Nick ordered. "Anyways, so then I was thinking about other things that weren't how they seemed. Crane stalking me, but it not being about me. Stuff like that. And then I thought, what if suffocating was like that? What if it just seemed like a quiet, peaceful way to go?" He fell silent, studiously avoiding Warrick's distressed face.

"Why can you talk about it now, when you couldn't before?" Warrick asked suddenly.

Nick stared at his hands, twisting the blanket hard. "I was hallucinating, when I was down there. I saw my own autopsy." He tried to keep the tears from falling, but felt the wetness on his cheeks anyway.

"Nick…"

"I was afraid that all this…being rescued, everything after…I was afraid it was another hallucination. I was scared if I made one wrong move I'd wake up in hell again." He was crying full out, his shoulders shaking, unable to really breathe. "I was afraid I'd be back there and this time I wouldn't get out."

Nick felt Warrick stand next to him, awkwardly squeeze his shoulder. He took in a deep, shuddering breath, then looked into the face of his friend, surprised to see the tears that wet Warrick's face as well.

"What changed?" Warrick asked softly, sitting back down but leaving his hand on Nick's arm.

"Doc said my heart stopped," Nick said, then realized how unrelated that sounded. "I thought I was going to die, in the box. There was a point…It was like I already was gone…I didn't have any hope left. I was going to die." He bit his lip. "Something about it really happening…really being brought back…It was like after months of being dead, I finally woke up and I was alive."