Note: I decided to post this,sice the next part won't be up till the weekend. Got to give myself time to take in the season finale. So enjoy.

Grissom joined his CSI, who was still trying to deal with what had just transpired. The supervisor stood next to him while he sorted out what he was going to say. He was still the senior investigator, and this situation, despite all the obvious bumbles, was his responsibility. There may not be any scene to give instructions concerning collection, but he still could maintain structure. This was a crisis, and it was his job towards his subordinate to try to gain some order. Nick responded well to the chain of command in stressful situations before, and in this case it would provide a certain comfort level.

"We should keep our movements to a minimum. Though we should move over towards those windows. Maybe if we're lucky, we can catch some semblance of a small breeze."

Nick nodded absently and treaded slowly over towards the far wall, sliding his back against the interior to sit Indian style on the floor. The CSI studied his hand: the cut was still bleeding somewhat. Nick had nothing to wrap up the wound with. He clasped his palm over his jeans in the meantime, hoping it would clot soon.

Grissom sat down next to him. The supervisor always wore several layers of clothing, because he liked having the option of being able to keep cool in air conditioned places. Or in this case, if he was hot, he could simply remove his outer shirt. He took off the garment and started tearing up part of the sleeve. He took the strip and bandaged the wound in his hand. The cut wasn't bleeding very much, but he figured he might as well try to keep it clean, just in case movement started the flow again. The criminalist then ripped up some more fabric and handed it wordlessly to his colleague.

Nick mumbled a thanks and applied it to his own palm, the blood had already stained his jeans in his failed attempt to tend to it.

Nick tried to focus on the situation as a scientist. His mind flooded with information on various kinds of drugs: narcotics, hallucinogens, crack, cocaine. As he sorted through each category he conjured up their varying symptoms. He tried to analyze the situation. He had an unidentified substance coursing through his system. He had been injected, so whatever it was would begin to affect him soon. There was nowhere to go, and no medical assistance on the way. The CSI had to face the fact that he would have to deal with this head on.

Grissom broke the silence with some very pertinent questions. "Do you have any idea how much you were injected with? Did you notice the color?" Grissom asked, knowing that any tidbit of information would be vital in identifying the drug.

Nick tried to visualize the amount of liquid that was in the syringe. He slid his tongue over his lips, wetting them slightly. The CSI blinked. "I dunno. I had a weird view. From the fluid level in the syringe, I'd guess more than 5 mililiters. I couldn't tell the color. " The younger man peered at his boss. "Must be potent, whatever it was." Nick couldn't hide the tremble in his voice.

Grissom swallowed. He had to remain calm and stay focused. "Blood pressure, pulse, body temperature, and mental awareness," Grissom ticked off several fingers. "Those are the types of things that measure drug interactions within the body without the aid of tox screens." He took a deep breath. "How are you feeling?"

Nick tried to concentrate on his body's reactions. He glanced at his watch. It had been ten minutes and he was already feeling extremely anxious; like when he had butterflies before some major exam. He couldn't tell if it was from fear about his situation or a reaction to whatever he'd been exposed to.

Nick shook his head. "It's hard to tell." He laughed nervously. His voice echoed strangely inside the enclosed space. He nervously watched the shadows around him as they seemingly moved ominously around them. Nick tried to ignore what he thought was his overactive imagination. Dark, small areas always creeped him out sometimes.

Grissom studied the man in front of him. Nick looked so very young right now. All of his easygoing mannerisms and that innocent charm were in stark contrast to the conflicting emotions reflected there now. The supervisor took a hold of Nick's wrist, placed his fingers along the pulse there, and studied the second hand on his watch. Some drugs reacted very quickly. He felt the beating vein beneath his finger as Nick's pulsed actually slowed.

Grissom chewed his bottom lip as he mentally cataloged every nuance and physical reaction of the man before him. Nervousness, fear, and excitement usually caused your pulse to race. Over the next two minutes, the supervisor felt Nick's continue to slow down instead.

"Let me see your arm," The older criminalist instructed.

Nick gave him an odd expression, but obeyed. Grissom palpated the radial pulse in various areas of his arm. His fingers sought out various sections of one of Nick's veins that snaked down his arm. The CSI inspected Nick's fingers carefully, paying close attention to his nails. He pressed his thumb firmly against Nick's nail beds and let go, observing the reaction
carefully.

"Ah, Griss? What are you doing?" Nick inquired, somewhat confused.

"Testing capillary refill time of your circulation." Gil peered through his glasses at the younger man's perplexed expression, and shrugged somewhat absently. "It's a way to check blood pressure when you don't have a cuff," he explained almost casually.

"Oh," the younger man said simply. Nick was always in awe of the little facts his boss stored away. Grissom could win handsomely in jeopardy if ever given a chance, he mused. "So, what's the verdict?"

Grissom held the other man's gaze. "Nothing yet. I needed a point of reference. I'll check again in a little while. Just..." Grissom stopped mid-sentence, as he caught himself in experiment mode again. This wasn't the lab, this was Nick. He looked at the much younger man who was holding on to every word he spoke. Grissom smiled wanly and patted Nick's knee. "Please tell me if you start feeling anything abnormal. Don't worry about how it sounds."

Nick nodded his head in an affirmative, really at a loss for words. He swallowed hard. This day would just be another test he'd have to endure. The criminalist often referred to these type of situations as the obstacles that life threw your way to make you the person that you became. His hand twitched slightly and Nick tried to quiet the doubt in his head concerning his abilities to overcome this current battle.

Time passed. Nick didn't bother to look at his watch anymore. After checking the time every five minutes, Grissom had grabbed his hand and shook his head.

"Stop it. We can't make time go by faster and you're only going to exasperate your nerves."

Nick had leaned his head against the grimy wall. The floor was greasy and the cement only seemed to contain the heat. He couldn't seem to keep his hands clean, since there was a layer of dirt and dust that coated about every inch of the place. The fine particles coated his palms, and got all over his arms. He tried wiping the filth from his flesh, but the crap seemed stuck in the hairs of his forearms.

The tiny open windows high up near the top of the building didn't seem to provide any relief and even less light. It was the middle of the morning, but it didn't really matter. The place reminded him of a cramped attic and it was started to make him jittery. On a scale of one to ten, his comfort level was at the flat bottom of the scale. He swallowed again, but his mouth was dry, and his throat felt parched.

Nick unconsciously clenched and unclenched his left fist. His right hand continued to throb from the knife cut. He closed his eyes, willing his body to obey his commands. There was nothing he could do about his situation, so he tried to go with the flow. Nick's thoughts drifted back to his days at A&M. He had drank in college just like everyone else. When he was part of a fraternity, he had been the designated driver most of the time, but he had his share of binges, and hangovers from the result. He had never experimented with drugs, not even weed.

Nick's family worked in all aspects of law enforcement, with his father residing as a superior court judge in Dallas. He had continued with the family tradition, just not in all the safe aspects that his parents had wanted to see or envisioned. He didn't have any instincts to fall back on or any point of reference for this predicament. The confidence that he prided himself in was slipping.

No matter how much he told his brain to relax, to picture a serene beach, or rolling hills, he could not control his fear. 'Don't act this way,' he berated himself. 'Just be cool.'

He could hear Warrick's voice in his head, always the calm and collected one. That man could roll with any punch. Nick opened his eyes, his boss had felt out his pulse again. 'Calm down, Stokes,' he chastised. Nick started to breath slightly faster as he began to feel an intense sense of foreboding. His cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Carlos traffics in Heroin, he might have given me some," his voice cracked under the intense strain of trying to remain unaffected. Nick looked away from his boss; he couldn't stand the feeling of pity or judgment that seemed to radiate from the man. All he wanted to do was stay detached, disconnected, but that was proving to be very difficult.

Grissom looked at his coworker, not totally convinced. "Maybe. I don't think Carlos would just give you smack... it doesn't seem his style." Grissom shook his head. "It doesn't make sense."

Nick whipped his head around, an incredulous expression on his face. "Wouldn't make sense? What about any of this makes sense, Griss? You almost sound like you admire the bastard."

Grissom blinked. He placed his hands on each one of Nick's shoulders. He looked into terrified brown eyes that were wide with panic. "Nick, calm down. Let's try to reason this out." Grissom gave each shoulder a slight squeeze, trying to relay some sort of reassurance. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Nick replied dryly. He licked his lips again. "You have a theory now?" Nick wiped way the sweat from his forehead and pulled his drenched T-shirt away from his chest. He tried fanning himself with it, but the damn thing was so damn sticky.

Grissom sought out the CSI's pulse one more time. It was still slow and was getting difficult to detect. The criminalist pressed down on the other man's nail beds like had had done earlier. Nick had started breathing more rapidly as well. Sweat didn't just dot the younger man's brow, his forehead and hair were soaked with perspiration.

Grissom pushed his reading glasses further along the bridge of his nose as he tried to articulate his thoughts. "You have a slow pulse. When I release my thumb over you nails, your refill time is greater than two seconds."

Nick looked at him expectantly, his forehead scrunched in nervousness.

"Your blood pressure is dropping. I've noticed fluctuations in your breathing." Grissom rubbed the end of the sleeve of his shirt at his own forehead, dabbing at it. "It feels like a hot box in here. I'm sweating, but you're soaked in perspiration. Your body temperature's rising from whatever chemical you were given." His tone remained neutral. Controlled.

Grissom didn't voice his alarm about the possibility of heat stroke. Nick was more at risk from suffering from severe dehydration with his system compromised by whatever substance he had been given. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Grissom tilted his head. "Don't be alarmed if you feel like your heart is racing one moment, and then slowing down another. Some drugs make you feel one way, while in reality your body is enduring something totally different."

Nick squinted in the low lit room. Grissom's lips were moving but they suddenly didn't seem to be matching up with his words. It was as if he was watching a film of the man speaking to him in slow motion. Nick blinked several times, but his boss's voice continued in slow motion.

"M-maybe an opiate of some kind," he ventured a guess, trying to ignore the strange auditory anomaly.

Grissom tilted his head. "Maybe. Perhaps a form of opium or peyote even. If you were injected with Heroin, you'd be feeling a rush about now. Your pupils would be smaller. I speculate that he used something else."

Nick stared at his mentor; he seemed to float in front of him like some projection. Nick clenched his fist again, concentrating on balling up his fingers and feeling the pressure. "Like what?"

Grissom shook his head. "I don't know yet."

Nick snatched his wrist away from the other man's gentle grasp. "I'm not one of your damned experiments Grissom. I just can't sit here and watch you observe me like one of your hissing cockroaches."

Nick stood up suddenly and felt all the blood drain from his head. He was hit with an onslaught of dizziness. His vision swam in and out of view. He heard Grissom's voice in the distant background, but it was drowned out by some sort of white noise. It sounded like the supervisor was talking inside a tin cup; surrounded by the buzzing of thousands of insects. Then just as suddenly he found himself back on the ground again.

Grissom loomed over him, his face stricken with alarm.

"Nick, Nick?"

The younger man shook his head, it was silent and clear again. His worried boss stared at him. "What?" He squinted his eyes, confused by his boss' demeanor.

Grissom took a shuddering breath. Nick had bolted up, staggered away like some drunk, and was about to collapse to the ground before he grabbed him and guided him back to the floor. "Stay put," he commanded.

Nick wiped at his brow again with a slightly shaky hand. God he was so hot, it felt like a damn oven in here. "Jesus Grissom... I-I'm sorry," he stammered.

"It's okay, Nick. We're just going to sit here." Grissom didn't know what else to say. He had to keep his CSI focused on something. The entomologist sighed inwardly. He wasn't suited for this, words were never his strong thing. He thought about one of his classical pieces. The music soared in his mind and gave him a more peaceful feeling.

Nick's face was flushed, and the supervisor longed for a bottle of water. He needed to keep the younger man here, sitting, his mind off of whatever he was experiencing. Grissom's brow furrowed; what on earth could he say? He was never good with idle chit chat or small talk.

The case.

"Why did you go to the pharmacy, Nick? What intrigued you so much that you acted so brashly?"

It was an innocent enough question. Perhaps not one of the best phrased ones, as the shift leader saw his colleague's eyes narrow, the muscles along his jaw tighten.

"What?" Nick didn't keep the resentment from his voice.

Grissom tilted his head, there was something off about Nick's tone. "The pharmacy, you took off..."

Nick shook his head in irritation. "I didn't just take off. I was following a hunch... I had an idea. Is that such a surprise?"

Grissom squinted, clearly confused by the hostility he sensed. Perhaps the current case wasn't the brightest idea as a topic of conversation. Maybe he should have chosen something along the likes of locker room talk. Maybe sports. That was definitely a subject that Nick would feel more comfortable with. He tried to backpedal; however, Grissom felt totally inept. He knew it was baseball season, but had not followed any of the teams lately. Clearly talking stats would be a bit out of the question. Grissom felt frustrated and Nick still stared at him like he had just been scolded.

Nick wiped a grimy hand over his sweaty face. "I did what you told me to do, Grissom, what you've always taught me to do."

Nick squeezed his eyes shut. The room seemed like it was getting smaller. The walls seemed to close in around him. Nick tried to concentrate on what Grissom was saying. The supervisor started talking again, reprimanding him for something. Why did his boss constantly doubt his ability to do his job correctly?

"Don't you trust me?" Nick asked.

Gil Grissom exhaled a heavy breath. The supervisor had been trying to get his subordinate's attention for the past several minutes. Nick had been in his own little world, staring right past. Grissom shook head, not understanding what was going through Nick's mind. "Trust you?" He gaped at him, trying to follow the his friend's fractured thought pattern.

Nick looked up at him. "You never have, ya know. I've never been worthy of your trust."

Grissom sighed. "Nick, listen to yourself. You're not thinking clearly now. Why don't you..."

"Stop patronizing me Grissom! I'm not some green cadet," he yelled.

Grissom didn't want to rise to the barb, but maybe reason was still the best course of action here. "Worthiness is not synonymous with trust, Nick. It's not a prerequisite."

The younger man worked his lower jaw back and forth. "More riddles. Can't you ever give me a straight answer? I -I've always had to seek even the simplest response from you."

Grissom gave his coworker a passive expression. "I don't mince words, Nick. I'm frank with you and try to stick to the point. Sometimes it's stuff you don't want to hear. " Grissom had been crouched down on his knees, and he adjusted his position when they began to ache. "You're experiencing something very difficult and frightening right now. Let's just focus on talking about something other than the case."

The supervisor tried to use a calm cadence in his voice. His colleague stared right past him. Nick swatted at his eyes in annoyance as he squinted in the darkness. If Grissom knew any better, then he almost thought that his coworker couldn't understand him. The younger man's expression was twisted into a mask of pure confusion.

Nick's stomach stared to churn and he felt overwhelmingly sick. He pushed aside the nausea. "Is this another test, Gris? Are Warrick, Sara, and Catherine standing outside laughing at the fact you duped me again?"

"No, Nick," Grissom tried to reassure him.

But Nick would have none of it. "Silk, Silk, Silk. Man, this is a bit elaborate even for you, don't ya think?"

Nick squeezed his eyes shut. The room was spinning wildly now, and he felt like several tiny knives were stabbing him in the gut. Grissom's voice filled his ears, whispering words that he could barely make out. He was tired of the parental tone. It was so annoying. Not to mention he couldn't understand what was being said. The words and syllables just hung disjointedly in the air.

The contents of his stomach were now demanding his full attention, and the bile rose up the back of his throat. Nick tried to breathe deeply, but the air inside the warehouse felt so damn thin.

"N...i...c..k.." His name was echoing in his head now. There was more than one taunting voice. Grissom's, Warrick's and Catherine's were mixing together like some strange cacophony. The CSI tried to focus on each one of them, but it was gave him a terrible headache. Nick clutched at his belly. His equilibrium was not working, and he couldn't even tell if he was sitting up or laying down. The criminalist forced both of his hands to the floor in an attempt to anchor himself. Nick's sense of balance was off and his lightheadedness was competing with his rebellious stomach.

The criminalist curled up on his side, groaning in pain. A strangled cry escaped his throat, immediately followed by the remains of his last meal.

Grissom was instantly next to him, trying to steady him as he became violently ill. The supervisor held onto the younger man's shoulders as the CSI continued to dry heave. Grissom felt the heat radiate through the younger man's T-shirt. The scientist added this to his mental notes and helped Nick to sit back up. The CSI leaned heavily next to the older man.

Nick was shaking uncontrollably, but managed to wipe his mouth with his sleeve. The younger man was pale and his face continued to blanch as he looked panic stricken over at his mentor.

"W-whats' goin on?" Nick choked on his words. His eyes blazing, he suddenly twisted out of Grissom's grasp. "W-hat the hell is happening to me?" Nick crawled along the ground. He did whatever it took to keep his distance from the other man.

Grissom decided against standing up, thinking that he might be seen as a threat. He stayed on his haunches and followed his CSI while giving him some space. "Nick... Nick, please tell me what's wrong?"

The older man had a feeling what was transpiring; irrational paranoia was an easy thing to spot. Now he was left with the challenge of trying to get his coworker to focus on anything other the beginning of some sort of nightmare in his head.

Nick had stayed on his hands and knees and backed into a corner of the warehouse. Frantically he searched behind him, even though there was nothing there. He was still balling up his fists, the pain in his stomach reaching a crescendo. Nick glared at his boss with suspicion, his eyes darted around as he searched for a means of escape.

Nick didn't know why he needed to get away. A small part of his mind idly wondered if this was some elaborate ruse, and he found he didn't much like being an object of an experiment. The walls continued to close in on him and he felt his chest tighten up at the thought of being trapped in this place.

"G-Grissom, let's just leave. You proved y-your point," Nick stammered as his heart thundered. It felt like it was going to explode. He pressed his knuckles against the muscles along his chest, hoping to keep it from bursting out.

Gil held his hands out passively. "Nick, we can't leave. We're being held here, remember?"

The image of Grissom flickered like a film strip caught by a projector. His voice drifted in and out, and Nick could see the vague smile that his supervisor tried to conceal. Nick dug his tightly clenched fist against his chest. If he pressed hard enough, maybe he could control his rapidly beating heart.

Grissom worriedly nodded in Nick's direction. "Does your chest hurt? Because if it doesn't you're going to leave a nice sized bruise there, if you keep pressing down so hard." The scientist wanted to check the CSI's pulse, but knew better than to get too close.

Nick shook his head. "I don't want to play your game anymore, Gris."

The older man just shook his head. "This isn't about any tests, Nick," he spoke calmly.

Nick shuddered. "I've never been good enough in your eyes. No matter how many leads I provided or how many cases I've helped solve."

"This isn't about approval, Nick. You're confused, the drug is praying on your insecurities."

Nick Stokes was fully aware of his faults and had developed a keen sense for all of his shortcomings. They clung to him now, like a pestilence. They were a part of his soul that was dark.

'Will see the imbalances in your soul, gringo,' echoed in his head.

Nick stiffened as he was filled with another wave of urgency. He looked over at his supervisor, trying to shake way the image of his dad's expression now transposed there. "I love my job... I want to make a difference."

Grissom arched an eyebrow. "You do Nick. Just because your work centers on the mistakes that other people make, doesn't mean we should focus that on ourselves all the time."

Nick allowed the ends of his mouth twist into a wry smile. "I'm not the one who points out my inadequacies. You do that on all your own."

"How else are you going to learn?" Grissom questioned him. Unlike what most people thought about him, he did not prey upon other people's miscues; it was his job to make people aware of them, so they could practice better judgment later. It was a virtuous teaching cycle in their line of work.

"Everyone has faults. Why do mine cause you such concern?" Nick's mouth quivered, but it was more from the drug circulating inside him. His muscles over the past few minutes seemed to have a mind of their own.

"I don't single you out. Your tendencies towards empathy can be more problematic than Sara's compulsions or Warrick's old gambling problems." Grissom choose his words wisely.

"You hold the fact that I can emotionally connect with people against me?" Nick asked, without keeping the astonishment out of his voice.

"It's more of a challenge and a skill to remain unattached than it is to feel something towards a victim or their family, Nick. Your position is not to relate to anyone, it's to look for evidence and analyze it. There is no room in science for emotions."

"Y-you make it sound like some sort of weakness." Nick muttered in a brief moment of lucidity.

Grissom started to get slightly defensive. "You take things too personally. All I'm saying is that it could effect how you handle a case."

Now the younger man's frowned deepened. "Warrick doesn't seem to do anything wrong. He can be left in charge of shifts despite my seniority, and as long as he doesn't get any one else killed on duty, then it's all hunky-dory. He's your favorite after all." The CSI's accent was heavy and his voice dripped with venom.

Grissom inched up closer towards the agitated man. "I don't play favorites, Nick. If you're referring to Holly Gribbs, that was just a terrible accident. Warrick regretted leaving her alone, and he was disciplined properly for it. If I wanted to put someone with the most experience in charge of shift, I would have chosen you. But it wasn't about that. It was just a test for Warrick. I needed to know how he would handle things."

Nick's heart still seemed to be bouncing around wildly against his sternum. The CSI tried to get to his feet and stand. He felt like he would be in a better position to argue, but as he rose, the muscles in his back stiffened. The muscles spasmed as he stood awkwardly.

"I bet 'Rick regretted leaving a rookie behind on her first case. D'you harbor any doubts when you didn't leave an officer at the scene during the Faye Green case? Or was that just another test?" Nick used his hands to push off from the wall. He wavered sideways, but remained on his feet. Barely.

Grissom felt stricken at the accusation. " We both were surprised when Amy Hendler pulled that gun. I'm the one who came in before she could do anything."

Nick swallowed. His chest tightened even more, making it difficult to draw a full breath. A tidal wave of fear seemed to have a hold of him. Nick was frozen still, every nerve in his body was engulfed in icy fear. Time seemed to morph. He wasn't in the warehouse any more. He saw the gun pointed at his head. Saw the look of sorrowful determination as Mrs. Hendler muttered an apology right before pulling the trigger. Nick had been forced into a corner then just like he was now.

He began violently shaking; he saw the barrel of the gun waver, but its target was quite clear. His mother would be forced to have a closed casket funeral, and his coworkers would spend hours collecting every tiny remnant of bone and shattered skull. The blood pool wouldn't have carpet to soak into. It would simply just spread over all the lacquered panels of the wooden floor with that damn aquarium. The splatter patterns would be so widespread that it would take countless rolls of film to document.

The smell of copper filled his nostrils and his throat constricted.

He let out a strangled, scream. "No!"

Nick bolted and knocked Grissom out of the way as he scrambled towards the doors of the entrance.

Notes:
I must say that I'm overwhelmed. All of you guys are such wonderful supporters, its so nice! I don't think I could ever ask for a better group of readers! All of you rock, and I'm very excited about this new story and hope all of you enjoy all the little details. Thank all of you again!

Designation-
Thank you again for such detailed comments. As you can see, this indeed gets very intense and will continue to do so. I really worked on getting into Grissom's head during the early part of the show and glad that his character really does ring true. It was needed as a set up for what is transpiring now.

Lament-
I love the complex friendship between Gil and Nick. That's why I really wanted to explore it. Thank you again.

Miss Anonymous-
Thanks. Got to keep the readers on their toes. I can't tell you exactly what's happened to Nick, but there are enough clues dropped. I'll tie everything up in the end, I promise.

amarawind-
I'm trying. This story took a long time to plan and write. It'll be fun to see how everyone reacts to it.

Blagrauna-
Let's just say this story goes into the darker side of things. :-)

M2S-
Nick is going to go through a lot, the ride will be very bumpy. Thank you and I promise I'll get to your story very soon.

CSIfan-
I hope this gets you trough the weekend, I know I know I'm evil. But the next few chapters are long so I felt it made up for things. Nick will experience something he has never dealt with, in more ways then one. With Grissom there, it'll be something that will stay with both of them forever. Thank you again!

rozzy-
Did I ever tell you that you rock! Such wonderful things to an author's ears! I don't know what to say. Hope you like where's its going and yes the word angst should be used many, many times with this one. I swear, its really a character study!

Groban-
So good to see you again! Hope you have some heart medication ready!

wolfwood-
Thanks! Gil is going to have his hands filled with this one. Just wait and see!

cruchjoy-
Thanks m'dear! That made me chuckle!

higherbeingfriendsfan-
Hand on yo your seat! Thanks for your kind words. Hoped you liked this one.

c1-
I posted this chapter since I felt we would all be in overload from Thursday. So, I felt we would need time to decompress. These two were very, very exciting to write.