It had been four days since they'd liberated Nick from his Plexiglas prison. His first night and day were spent in the CCU, but his tachycardia had faded along with the anaphylaxis and he was transferred down to the regular ward for the remainder of his stay. Friends and family were a constant presence at his bedside, but he was kept pretty well sedated in order to give his body the rest it needed to heal.

As his sedation was decreased visits became briefer and awkward. The remaining sedation left Nick dazed and groggy and he tended to say illogical things and laugh at inappropriate times. He seemed genuinely happy to see people for the most part, but none of them could shake the thought that it was only the narcotics talking. He acted like he was in for appendicitis - he never mentioned anything about his experience, and talk was kept to funny things that Hodges said in the lab or who had scored what in the game of the night. During most of his visits he'd fall asleep briefly, then his eyes would spring open wildly, unfocused, unseeing. He'd finally fix on his current visitor and continue talking, usually about something completely off topic.

Now on the fourth day, Grissom had called Warrick into his office. Grissom had been Nick's last visitor of that day and had had a disturbing conversation with Nick. He filled Warrick in and as Grissom' tale unfoldedWarrick's stomach sank.

"His sedation has been pretty much ended. The visit started off as usual…my best attempt at small talk. His mental faculties are returning and for the first time he began to ask me questions about that night. He wanted to know who had been responsible. I tried to explain as best I could, that it was Walter Gordon's blind rage…that it was nothing personal or anything he himself had done…just …I don't know…bad luck?"

At this, Warrick winced. His hand reached into his pocket and began to play nervously with the coin he'd taken to carrying with him, for reasons he didn't quite understand. He just knew he took great comfort in its presence.

"He seemed to accept this but the way his face fell…" Grissom sighed. "I thought that'd be it, but his next question… I guess I just wasn't prepared…"

"How did you find me?"

Grissom paused, unsure how to explain. He tried to gauge Nick's ability to get this news, and realized that there would be no ducking this question.

"There was a web cam."

"A what? A camera? …How…where?"

"It was in the lid of the … box. Gordon sent it to us."

"How long?"

"Pretty much right after he took you, Nick."

"The whole time …?"

"Yes, Nick. He wanted us to-"

"Who?"

"Who …? Who what, Nick?"

"Who saw it?"

"It was sent to the lab."

"Who. Saw. It?

"We all did, Nick."

"He shut down. Said something about being tired and asked me to leave." Another sigh. "I knew he'd have to find out sometime…I just wasn't expecting it to be me that would tell him. I was hoping that maybe you could talk to him."

Warrick shrugged. I'll give it a shot.

Shift ended and he ran back to his place to freshen up and grabbed a fast-food breakfast sandwich to fill the hole. He had the pedal to the floor when he realized that visiting hours wouldn't have started yet for the morning, and eased up on the gas. He ran into a Kwik-E Mart and grabbed an extra large coffee, and another small one for Nick. At the counter he looked down through the glass and saw the spread of instant lottery tickets. One was called "Crime Does Pay" and it had a little masked cartoon character with a huge bag of loot on his back. It was a dollar ticket, and the payout was an instant thousand dollars. He had the cashier add one to his purchase and he walked back to the truck, reading the instructions on the ticket.

He pulled out the silver dollar coin and rubbed off the grey scratch-off material. There it was, third from the left in the bottom row. Amidst the rows of closed doors, an open door, signifying a win. He rubbed off the remaining grey to see what he'd won. Top prize. One thousand dollars. He shoved the ticket and the coin back into his pocket and headed off to the hospital.

He entered Nick's room and passed by the foot of the first bed currentlyoccupied by a huge guy with his leg up in a traction cast. He was sound asleep, and his TV was on. Some early morning women's program.

Warrick rounded the curtain and expected to see Nick in bed, but the bed was empty, its former occupant sitting in a chair looking out the window.

Nick was wearing only hospital issue PJ bottoms and had a blanket thrown on the back of the chair. When he noticed Warrick's presence he pulled the blanket down a bit over his shoulders, but not before Warrick saw the havoc that had been wreaked on his friend's body. His arms were covered in gauze where the bites were the worst, and he had ace bandages wrapped around his chest. His shoulders and elbows were covered in yellowing bruises. Warrick realized he must have gotten them thrashing around in the box.

Nick saw him staring and pulled the blanket tighter. "Broke a few ribs after my flight through the air," he said with a wry smile.

"Yeah, I'll bet. Hey, Bro. Looking better. Good to see you out of that damn bed."

Nick's gaze returned to the window. "Yup. Doc says I'll probably go home tomorrow."

"That's great, Man. Hey. You need anybody to stay with you for a while, I bet people will be lined up to volunteer. Me included."

"Nah. Thanks though. My mom and dad'll probably stick around a bit longer, and I'll have a home care nurse change the bandages and stuff. 'Preciate the offer, though," he said, his eyes never leaving the window.

"Oh. Yeah. That makes sense. Your moms wouldn't want to let you out her sight, I guess." Nice way to put it…

Nick's shoulders fell at the remark. "Yeah. She's pretty freaked."

Warrick stood there, not knowing what else to say. How many years had it been? And he couldn't think of a single goddamn word to say to his best friend.

Nick realized that Warrick was still standing there and broke away from his trance-like stare outside. "Hey, new watch? Looks like a Rolex? You didn't buy that off of one of those street vendors did ya?" he asked with a small laugh.

Warrick self-consciously pulled his sleeve down over the new Rollie he'd treated himself to on a whim, the night after his blackjack haul. "Yeah. I smashed mine at a scene yesterday. DB found wedged in a storm drain. Turns out the drunken fool had bet his buddy he could fit and got stuck. His friend was so drunk he passed out and came to to find the fool had asphyxiated on his own vomit in the drain. So he left." The lie left his tongue easily, but left a bad taste behind.

They made small talk for a while, their conversation circling and never really meeting in the middle.

Warrick sighed. "So, I was talking to Grissom last night--"

"You know what, Warrick. I'm really wiped. Maybe we oughta cut this short." He eased himself slowly out of the chair and sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from his friend.

"Yeah… I don't wanna wear you out. You…umm… you want me to stick around for a bit?"

"No, thanks. I don't like it when people watch me while I'm sleeping. I'll catch you later." And with that he curled up on the bed and closed his eyes.

Warrick stood there a few seconds, then gave a small unheeded wave and left the room, not even the annoying voices from the TV and the stentorian snoring from the room's other occupant shattering the silence left in his wake.