Chapter Thirteen
Sara's slim frame was no match for Nick's stockier, muscular one, and Warrick knew the second he started to fall that he was going down hard and he'd take her with him.
Warrick rushed to his friend's side and checked for the normal vitals. "What's goin' on here, Gris?" he asked, panicking.
Grissom knelt down across for him and shook his head, also reaching to check Nick's pulse. "I don't know, Warrick. It could be a number of things. Stress, most likely."
Sara stood back, shaking her head. "I knew it," she said softly. She glared daggers at them. "I knew it." There were tears in her eyes.
Catherine stood behind Grissom with her hand over her mouth. She didn't say anything, just kept looking back and forth between Warrick and Grissom, as if this was their fault. Maybe it was.
"Come on, Nicky," she finally breathed.
"He's okay, Catherine," Grissom said over his shoulder.
Warrick's head snapped up and he stared wide-eyed at his boss.
"How can you say that?" Sara practically yelled, vocalizing everything Warrick was feeling, himself. She ran her hands through her hair and started shaking her head again. "We shouldn't have done this," she whispered.
"It's too late for that now, Sara," Grissom said, and Warrick wondered how he could sound so calm when Nick had just collapsed in front of them.
He had deteriorated so rapidly, had gone from appearing nearly fine to being pale and shaking within a span of minutes. Because of them.
Warrick cursed himself. He was sure things would not have gotten this far if he'd kept in together better in the locker room. He had known before then that Nick had needed help, but that confrontation seemed to have really done it for his friend.
Warrick bit his lip and put his hand under Nick's head. Sure enough, he could already feel a small bump.
"Shit," he said under his breath. They had probably added a concussion to Nick's extensive list of problems. "I'm sorry, Nicky."
"Should we get somebody?" Catherine started for the door, chewing on her thumbnail. "An ambulance?"
Grissom shook his head. "No, I think he's okay."
Three disbelieving pairs of eyes stared at him.
"Not okay, okay," he admitted. "But I don't think that he needs an ambulance."
"Now you know what he needs?" Sara asked with a laugh. "You're the one who said he needed this. That he needed us to help him."
"Sara, please." Grissom put a hand on Nick's forehead, carefully wiping away some of the excessive amount of sweat that was there.
Catherine reached for the phone on the table. "I'm calling an ambulance."
Suddenly, Nick groaned on the ground, and Catherine dropped the phone as they all swarmed to his side.
The first thing Nick noticed was a frightening feeling that he couldn't breathe. He opened his eyes and gasped for air at the same time. Black spots distorted his vision. He struggled to sit up, but a strong, steady hand guided him back down.
"Nicky, calm down, okay?"
He couldn't put the worried voice with the name of its speaker, but it was a familiar one. It had to belong to one of the blurry shapes hovering above him. Just like in his nightmare…
No, Nick thought, don't just stand there! Get me out of here!
There was the light. Flashing, just like in his nightmare. Not as bright as the one he remembered, though. Kind of greenish. Nick moved his head around, trying to get an idea of where he was. Table legs? Mini-fridge? Break room.
This light wasn't the one that had tormented him for the better part of…God, how long…but one of the finicky, flickering florescent overhead beams that illuminated the rooms of the crime lab. Nick was flat on his back, a place he had no intention of staying. Again, he tried to sit up, feeling his heart rate pick up even more speed, feeling his lungs tighten, his throat constrict. Again, he was pushed back. Didn't they understand?
Apparently not, because now more than one of them was keeping a hand on his chest, keeping him from trying to get up.
"Nick, you're going to have to calm down."
A different voice. Calmer. Steadier. Commanding. Grissom. Gris.
"Gris." His voice was so quiet, he didn't know if they heard him. Grissom was right, though. He did have to calm down.
Nick closed his eyes and focused on slowing his breathing. He didn't know how long it took, but when he opened his eyes again, he could see them huddled around more clearly. Warrick was right next to him, so close he was almost in his face. His eyes were wide and afraid.
Sara was right over Warrick's shoulder. Nick couldn't see the details in her features, but the sniffing told him all he needed to know. Catherine was opposite Sara, her arm was extended towards him, and her hand disappeared from his field of vision. Hers must have been one of those restraining him. The other belonged to Grissom, kneeling in front of Catherine. His face was not as stony as it usually was. He almost looked concerned, if that was possible.
Nick was momentarily calmed by the sight of them all before it occurred to him just how close they were, and his breathing became labored again.
Get back, he thought desperately.
"Do you think you can stand up?"
Nick's eyes went to Warrick. He squeezed them shut and shook his head. His limbs felt like dead weight.
"Okay." Warrick's voice cracked. "We'll help you. Okay, partner?"
Nick sucked in a big breath and nodded. Two pairs of strong hands gripped him under his arms and pulled him upright, and he was instantly aware of a shooting pain in his head. He winced and groaned.
"Nick? Are you okay?" It was one of the women, and they were worried.
"Jus' m'head," he mumbled.
"Try and get your weight on your feet, okay?" Grissom again.
Nick tried. His feet slipped a bit, but he managed a decent enough grip on the floor. It only lasted for a second, though, and then he slumped to the side and leaned heavily against whomever it was that ahold of his right arm.
The person put an arm around Nick's waist and cursed. "Damn, Nicky. When was the last time you ate?" It was Warrick.
The next thing he knew he was lying down again, but on a much softer surface. The couch, probably. He wanted to keep his eyes open, but the small trip across the room had been hell on his head. Not to mention his stomach. He was nauseous, despite the fact that Warrick was right. He hadn't eaten much more than that little bit of sandwich in days. At least he felt like he could breathe again.
Someone gripped his hand. They were talking quietly, and Nick strained to pick up bits of the conversation.
"…call the hospital…"
"…you trippin'…push him over even…"
"...do something, he's a mess…"
"…get some water…"
Nick liked the idea of water, and he croaked out the same. The hand squeezed his limp fingers.
"Okay."
"An' no hospital," he said. He was answered with silence, and knew that was never a good sign.
He knew he had to do something to prove to them that he didn't need a hospital, and pushed himself up into a sitting position, blinking at the roaring in his head. Despite the pounding, the spots slowly dissipated, and things started to get a little clearer.
Nick attempted a small smile and winced. "Can I get some ice or something?"
Three out of the four of them rushed to the fridge. If he was less disorientated, he might have laughed as they stumbled into one another. Grissom remained crouched in front of him, staring at him, observing him.
Nick swallowed and gratefully accepted the ice pack Sara handed him. He held it to the back of his head, and she sank onto the couch next to him, gripping his knee almost painfully.
Warrick stood behind Grissom, his hands on his hips. "You sure you don't want to get that head of yours looked at?"
Nick shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment to mask the wince it caused. "Nah, I'm…" He almost said 'fine.' "Better," he finished.
They looked relieved, leaving Nick to marvel at the power of a simple word.
Grissom wasn't so easily fooled. Never was. He frowned at Nick. "I think we should take you in, just to be safe."
"Gris, it's cool. Really," Nick said desperately. "Doesn't even really hurt."
He realized that focusing on his head was keeping them talking, keeping them out of the inevitable awkward silence. They seemed reluctant to bring up the reason they were all in the room, how they got to be in this moment, and everyone looked around at each other uncomfortably.
Nick was tired. He knew that wasn't a great sign, what with a possible concussion and all, but it was most likely owing to the fact he was getting almost no sleep.
Warrick sighed and looked to his left, and Nick saw him frown as he took in the table, where Nick's uneaten sandwich was. Nick watched Warrick's face as it looked like he remembered something.
Warrick coughed to get the others' attention and raised his eyebrows. Catherine smiled and rubbed Nick's shoulder and headed out of the room.
Sara removed her hand from his leg to squeeze his hand. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, and reluctantly followed Catherine out.
Grissom squinted at him for just a moment longer. Then his features relaxed. "Take the rest of the night off, okay?"
Nick wanted to protest, but the look in Grissom's eyes told him that he didn't have a choice in the matter. He nodded.
After Grissom left, Warrick sighed again. "You've got to take better care of yourself, man." He came across the room and fell back next to Nick. "You hear?"
Nick nodded, willing to do anything to avoid an argument right now. His head hurt, his face hurt, and he was dead tired. He didn't want to try and explain that the sight of most foods made him nauseous. He knew he couldn't live off of water and sandwich halves forever, but he wasn't going to force himself to eat, either.
Warrick shot him a sideways look. "I mean it."
Nick nodded and laid his head back against the couch cushion. He closed his eyes. He had actually almost drifted off when Warrick patted him on the leg. Nick raised his head and looked over at him.
"I'll take you home, okay?"
Nick knew, again, this was a false question. He also knew he wasn't in any condition to drive. He did want to go home. Now that his mind and body were both settling down, he was starting to feel a bit humiliated.
He'd actually passed out. Not only in front of Warrick, Sara, and Catherine, which he thought he could handle, but in front of Grissom. His supervisor was going to think even less of him now. Be even more disappointed.
Nick's shoulders slumped, and he prepared to follow Warrick out of the lab, drawing more stares, more silent questions, more attention that he just didn't want.
To be continued...