Nick could swear they had walked for miles. And he had no idea where he was going.
But Kristy was leading the way and the pair had fallen into and oddly comfortable silence.
"It's not far now," she said at length. Nick scanned the horizon, but couldn't immediately make anything out.
After they'd walked for another twenty minutes he was sure he could make out someone on the road ahead of them.
There was a young teenaged boy standing before them. The youth's light brown hair was plastered to his head with sweat. Nick recognized him – a face he could never forget.
"Hey," the boy greeted with a nod. "You know, it's fuckin' hot out here."
Nick nodded absently. He couldn't understand why Dylan Buckley was standing before him. They had never even met before Dylan's death.
"Doesn't matter, Nicky," Kristy insisted.
He shot her a glare. "I know this is all my dream, but I wish you'd quit it with the mind reading."
"Sorry." She smiled, not looking apologetic at all.
"So how's it goin' man?" Dylan asked as though this was a normal, everyday conversation for him and Nick.
"Um, okay? Well except the whole getting shot thing."
Dylan looked sympathetic. "Yeah, that would suck."
"Sure." Nick turned to look at Kristy sharply. "What the hell is this?"
"Dylan's death affected you deeply, Nick. It brought out bad memories for you. You felt like you let him down, even though you had nothing to do with his death."
Nick turned to look at Dylan, unable to deny what Kristy said. "So." He cleared his throat. "Are you along for this ride?"
Dylan shrugged. "Don't look at me. It's your dream."
Throwing his hands in the air, Nick said, "why not? Like this could get any weirder."
Kristy and Dylan just smiled at each other.
Sara was standing outside the hospital entrance when Warrick came back. He paused his approach when he saw her, but decided not to put the explosion off.
"Where have you been?" she snapped. She was livid.
"I was …"
"I tell you where you've been," Sara cut him off. "You went to the lab! You attacked a suspect! What the hell are you thinking Warrick? You could've compromised the case!"
"Well, I'm sorry!" he shouted. "But you know, I just can't stand by while these fuckin' shit-heads get off on playing target practice with cops! Everyone else is sitting around with their heads up their asses! Excuse me for wanting to do something!"
She scoffed angrily. "You don't think I want to be down there doing something? Nick is as much my friend as yours, but at least I still have functioning brain cells to realize that storming down there and threatening to kill a suspect isn't going to help him! Don't you think I'd love to use these guys for a couple of rounds of target practice? Don't you think I would love to think of the most painful torture and punish them? But we can't do this. We need to lock them away and let them rot."
Warrick reached out and brushed away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen from her eyes. "I'm sorry Sara," he said softly. "I wasn't thinking of how anyone else feels. But I was feeling so useless waiting for word on Nick."
Sara sighed. "I know. I feel that way too, but I just don't have the energy to leave this hospital until I know Nick will be okay."
He drew her into a hug. "He'll be okay. He's Nick."
She gave a tearful chuckle. "Yeah, he is."
Brass watched as Sara dragged Warrick into the solarium. Brass would never admit it, but when they realized Warrick had left the hospital he had been worried the CSI would do something foolish and they'd end up with another one of them to worry about.
Brass rolled up to the pair and pinned Warrick with a nasty glare. "You pull a stupid stunt like that again and I'll make sure you're suspended for a year!" he growled out. "I don't want Nick to come out of surgery and find out you did something that put you in the hospital too!"
Warrick returned the glare with one of his own and looked as if he were going to say something, then abruptly deflated. He understood where Brass was coming from. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I wasn't thinking."
"Damn straight you weren't." Brass suddenly looked tired. "Don't disappear again."
Into their fifth hour of vigil, a doctor finally appeared in the solarium. Everyone focused on him immediately.
"I'm Doctor Banks. You're friend made it through surgery, but its still touch and go. He's lucky that the bullet to the abdomen missed his vital organs, but it still did significant damage. The least of our worries was the bullet that fractured both his right radius and ulna. Mr. Stokes is currently in recovery, but as soon as he's been moved you'll be allowed to visit him briefly. We're keeping him medicated, so he'll still be unconscious when you see him."
"How long will you keep him sedated like that?" Katherine asked worriedly. "Is that good for him?"
"He was still conscious when he arrived, despite the obvious blood loss and pain. His body can't cope with his injuries unless we it's resting. This is what's currently best for him. Mr. Stokes would be in considerable pain, even in his medicated state, were he to be awake. His injuries are so severe that I don't believe pain killers would offer long periods of relief."
Grissom nodded in understanding.
Nick didn't know what to say as he walked down the road, Kristy on one side and Dylan on the other. This was seriously fucked up. He was wondering when Jacob Marley was going to show up and tell him the ghosts of Christmas were coming to show him the error of his ways.
Oh yeah, wrong fucking story.
Kristy and Dylan looked at him, clearly amused and he silently cursed them – using words that would make even Warrick blush.
"No need to get nasty," Kristy teased. "This is you're dream."
"Yeah, dude," Dylan agreed. "If you wanted, I'm sure you could make some playboy bunnies appear."
"I would if I could. But it seems I can't."
"Oh, yeah. The whole
inner journey thing."
"I wouldn't know. You guys seem to be the ones with all the answers here. I'm just along for the ride."
"Well, since you're along for the ride, try to enjoy it," Kristy suggested. "Have fun with it."
"Have fun with it?" He stared at her like she was on crack. "Have fun with being shot and maybe dying? Yeah, lets throw a fuckin' party."
Kristy stopped abruptly and whirled around on him. "Don't blame this on me! You're the one really guiding this thing. I'm just some manifestation of one of the fucked up things in your life. Dylan's another. It seems to me that you're the one calling the shots. And it's all connected to you pitying yourself. Yes, you got shot. Yes, you were accused of my murder. Yes, you felt a connection to Dylan. Yes, you've had a lot of problems. And they're all something you have to work on. Not some imaginary ghosts born out of your guilt."
With that Kristy and Dylan both disappeared.
"Kristy? Dylan?" Nick turned a circle. There was no sign of them anywhere. "Kristy!"
He was alone.
And he realized, dream or no, he didn't like it.
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AN: Sorry, another short chapter. But I hope you guys like it anyway. I appreciate all the great reviews I'm getting.
And for all the information about Nick's surgery – all made up. I have never worked in that field, and doubtfully ever will. But that's why it's called fiction, right? I just used what I've heard on TV. ;)
