Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews; they make me so happy! So happy that I couldn't wait to write the next chapter. I don't own any of the characters, but I do own all the pain and anguish I inflict on them! Happy reading!

Five Days Earlier

"I can't fight you anymore! This needs to stop!"

Nick's face remained impassive as Warrick railed at him. He had not been impressed when Warrick had arrived at his door three minutes after eight that morning. He had been even less impressed when he found out that Grissom had sent him to make sure that Nick actually made it to his appointment with the therapist. And now he was downright unimpressed with the riot act that Warrick was reading him. When Nick had resisted the idea of seeing the shrink by trying to go back to bed, Warrick had lost it. Nick couldn't remember everything that Warrick had said but he had caught the words "irresponsible", "dangerous" and "frustrating". Nick had simply climbed back into bed, intent on never coming out, as Warrick continued to run down the litany of problems that he perceived Nick to have. If it had been anyone else, Nick would have told him or her to shove it, but he let Warrick rant. He knew that Warrick still felt immense guilt over what had happened the night that he ended up in the box. No matter how many times Nick assured him that it wasn't his fault, Warrick continued to believe that it was some karmic glitch that had put Nick in the box instead of him. So Nick let Warrick stand there at the foot of his bed, raging at him for any error Nick had made in the months since the incident. Warrick had made the mistake of mentioning that Nick had "changed since the Walter Gordon incident", to which Nick had snidely responded that "spending a day and a half under six feet of dirt in a plexiglass coffin tends to have a bit of an impact on a person". It was at that moment that Warrick had lost it on Nick and shouted at him that "it" needed to stop. Nick wasn't sure what "it" was and he didn't think even Warrick knew what "it" was. He did know however that his best friend was very, very angry with him at that moment. Part of Nick wanted to sit up in bed and tell Warrick how he felt and let loose the pain that he was holding on to. But as he watched Warrick get increasingly angry, Nick knew he would never give Warrick the satisfaction of seeing his weakness again. As Warrick raged at him, Nick pulled the covers up over his head and turned to face the wall.

"That's it!" roared Warrick who wrenched the blanket back in one fierce motion. He stalked to the side of the bed where Nick lay and put his face right next to Nick's.

"So help me God Nicky, if you don't get up this minute I will physically pick you up and carry you to the therapist myself! On your own or by force: the choice is yours".

Nick knew Warrick was serious. No matter how proud he was, or how unwilling he was to admit he needed to see the shrink, he would not let Warrick humiliate him like that. Giving a large, dramatic sigh he rolled his eyes and sat up. He was making his way to the bathroom to pull himself together when Warrick's voice stopped him again.

"Don't lock the door"

Nick turned to stare at his friend. "I beg your pardon?" he said in an icy, warning tone.

Warrick closed the space between them in three long strides. "You heard me".

"Since are you the boss of me?"

"I mean it Nicky. Don't lock the door"

Nick leaned in closer with a vicious look in his narrowed eyes. "Why, you afraid I'm going to go in there and slit my wrists with my razor or something?" He turned to walk away.

"Yes" The answer was soft but Nick heard it. He stopped in his tracks as his heart began to race very fast. It took every ounce of fortitude he had not to turn around.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't want you to be burdened with cleaning up another one of my messes," he said with a nastiness that surprised even him. He willed himself to walk to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

He didn't lock it.

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me

("Unwell" by Matchbox 20)

The drive to the therapist's office seemed to take a million years. Neither man spoke to one another; the wounds from the morning hadn't even begun to heal. As the office building came into view, Nick's palms began to perspire. He hadn't been to see the doctor in so many months. He would have given anything not to have to see her now. What was her name again? Dr. Stanley, if he recalled correctly. He remembered her as someone who didn't beat around the bush. She wouldn't buy into any of his lies, which worried him. He knew he should be honest with her, but it seemed so forced and unnatural to confide all of his problems in a stranger. He sighed inwardly. Think of it as a necessary evil so that you can get back to work he told himself. Of course, after last night, he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to go back to work. He didn't want to know how awkward and ugly that could be.

They parked the car and Nick wasn't surprised when Warrick turned off the ignition and got out. No doubt Grissom had told him that Nick wasn't to be given any opportunity to get out of seeing the doctor. Nick would never say it out loud, but he was secretly sort of glad that Warrick was coming with him. It was nice to know that he had some support, even if it wasn't voluntary. They made their way to the seventh floor. If Warrick noticed how Nick closed his eyes during the elevator ride, he never let on. The doors slid open and Nick forced himself to walk out, instead of throwing himself out of the tiny space. The waiting room was bright and as inviting as a psychiatrist's office could be. Nick had barely sat down to wait when the doctor called him in.

"I'll be here when you're done," said Warrick tonelessly, without looking up from the People magazine that he had begun to thumb through.

"Oh goody" muttered Nick darkly without looking back.

Dr. Stanley's office was framed by a window that had less than stellar view of the street that ran parallel to the building. Framed prints of Pollock's work hung on the walls around her desk. Her degrees decorated an entire section of one wall. Well I may not agree with her taste in art but at least she's qualified to dissect my psyche Nick thought as she encouraged him to sit in one of two big leather chairs. She sat in the other, angling herself so she faced him. He suddenly flashed back to being called into the principal's office when he was in the sixth grade. He had been caught cheating on his science test. It was the one and only time he had been in trouble in school. He felt the same way at this moment. His heart was racing and he was trying to figure out how he was going to lie his way out of trouble. Dr. Stanley glanced at the chart in her hands before she spoke.

"So Nick, what brings you here today?"

The ability of Gil Grissom to make my life unpleasant if I didn't show up. "It came from the direction of my supervisor"

She smiled. "I was notified last night that you would be coming to see me. However, that's not the reason you're here. Why don't you tell me why Mr. Grissom directed you to me."

Because he thinks I am a raving lunatic who turned a fellow teammate's face into hamburger meat. "I have had a couple of, well, I guess you could call them 'troubling moments' the last couple of days. I have, uh, been having memories of the ordeal I went through last May"

She studied him. "By the ordeal you are referring to being buried alive?"

No, I'm referring to a paper cut I got filing reports "Yeah"

"Please tell me what has happened in the last couple of days"

My world is spinning out of control so fast that I can barely hang on. "Well two days ago I had a bit of a panic attack while a co-worker and I were riding out the storm in the car. The windows fogged up and I guess I sort of freaked out"

"You jumped out of the car into the storm and fell down a hill. That's a little more than a 'freak out', don't you think?"

Ouch, way to pour salt in the wound. "Sure. So after I freaked out," he made a point to emphasize the words, "I thought everything was okay. But then yesterday I was at a crime scene with another co-worker and he came up behind me. I guess it triggered a flashback or whatever you guys would call it and I lost control."

"You punched your co-worker repeatedly, split his lip and caused multiple deep bruises to his cheek and jaw. What were you thinking while this was going on?"

I don't know but right now I'm thinking I would like to give you a swift smack in the face "I was thinking about the night that Walter Gordon grabbed me at the crime scene."

"I see" she made some notes on the chart. She looked up at him expectantly.

"Go on Nick"

He shrugged defiantly. "You haven't asked me another question yet"

She smiled and laid her pen in her lap. "Fair enough. Alright then, why are you continuing to pretend that everything is okay when all the evidence about you tells me that its not?"

Wow doc, way to cut to the chase. You and Grissom should get together some time. "I don't know what you mean"

"You have dark circles under your eyes, which suggest that last night was not the first night that your sleep has been troubled. You are hunched over, as if you are trying to make yourself disappear. You are, according to Mr. Grissom, withdrawn, sullen and irritable. You are far thinner than the last time I saw you, so you haven't been taking care of yourself. And everything about your actions the last few days signal a cry for help that has, until now, gone unheeded. Does that sound about right?"

I really hate you right about now "It sounds like me all right."

"Do you like feeling this way?"

Oh yeah, can't you tell that I am having the time of my life over here? "No, of course not. But its not like I feel this way all the time. Its only been really bad the last couple of days. I think I am just stressed with work and the fact that I haven't been sleeping well."

"I think you have been feeling this way for far longer then a couple of days. I suspect, though I doubt you'll admit it, that you have been struggling with this ever since the events of last May. I think it's getting worse and I think you need to deal with this. You can't overcome your demons if you're afraid to face them Nick"

If you had my demons you wouldn't be able to see straight "Well maybe it's been going on for longer then two days. But I have really only had troubling control it during the last couple of days. And I would like to stop before I hurt somebody else"

"Or yourself." she said seriously.

Is there some kind of conspiracy against me today? "I'm not sure I like what you're implying"

She never flinched. "Have you thought about killing yourself?"

Would you blame me if I had? "No! Of course not!"

"You are awfully quick to dismiss that suggestion."

And you are awfully slow if you can't tell that I don't want to go there "Of course I am quick to dismiss it. I think the suggestion is ludicrous and offensive. No, I have never thought about killing myself"

"Are you still taking the Xanax I prescribed for you back in May?"

I still suffer from anxiety, don't I? "Yes, but I –"

"I only gave you one refill. How did you obtain additional prescriptions?"

So because I wasn't suicidal, you're going to make me into a drug addict? That's not cool doc "I spoke to my doctor and it was agreed that I should continue to stay on it"

She nodded thoughtfully. "You are aware that it is potentially habit forming?"

Yes, thank you, I can read the warning labels "Yes, but I don't take them every day"

"How many pills do you still have in the bottle?"

Why, you want a couple? They can cure what ails ya! "Thirty seven"

"How do you know exactly how many pills there are, unless you've counted them on a regular basis?" Her smile showed too many teeth.

You bitch. "I…I just…"

"Nick look at me. I am not judging you. But if you have counted the pills, then that indicates you have contemplated whether or not you have enough pills to end your life. I am concerned Nick. I think that you have thought about suicide, though you deny it. The doctor-patient privilege prevents me from revealing any of our discussion to Mr. Grissom. However, because you are seeing me as part of your job, I am required to give him my professional opinion as to whether or not you are mentally fit to return to work. I will tell him that I do not think you should be out in the field at this time, until you and I engage in some more sessions. I will however tell him that there is no reason why you cannot work in the lab. I think it is imperative that you be around people during this time, especially since you are very vulnerable right now. I will advise him that you should not be alone, though I won't tell him why. You are to see me every other day, and you will start talking to me. Do I make myself clear?"

Yes mom. And I'll make sure I eat all my vegetables "I think I've got it. Can I go now?"

"Yes. Nick, I want to help you. But you need to want to help yourself. I want you to do something for me. Until our next meeting I want you to keep a journal of the bad memories. I want you to jot down the time, what you were doing when the memory hit and what happened as a result. This will help you to track the problem and perhaps pinpoint any events that tend to make the memories worse. Can you do that for me?"

Oh excellent. I was wondering when we were going to get to the touchy-feely crap. "Absolutely. No problem."

"Good. Then I will see you the day after next."

Let me find a box big enough to contain my joy "Thanks Dr. Stanley. See you soon"

He was sure he could hear her dialing the phone before he had even closed the door. God, Grissom was going to have a field day with this. Things could not get any worse. Warrick stood up as Nick came out. At least I thought they couldn't get any worse he thought bitterly. The drive was silent until Nick realized that they weren't driving back to his house.

"Where are you taking me?" Nick demanded angrily.

Warrick gripped the wheel. "Grissom wants to see you in his office. Relax Nick, I'm not kidnapping you or anything"

The words had barely left his mouth when he grimaced. Nick let out a half laugh, half snort that was both derisive and hurt.

"It's called tact Rick. Might want to look into it"

Warrick bit his lower lip. "Nicky, I'm sorry. It just slipped out."

"Forget it."

"Nick-"

"Forget it!" There was finality in Nick's voice that made Warrick's apology die on his lips. They didn't speak again until they arrived at the lab. Nick wanted to turn and run the minute they got inside. The hallway to the lab felt like it was miles long. Was it his imagination or was everyone starting at him? The air was starting to feel very thin and his heart was hammering so loud he thought it might burst through his chest. The panic was spreading over him like wildfire. He fingered the tiny bottle in his pocket. He had slipped the pills in there last night, so he wouldn't forget them. He very much wanted to take one, two, twenty right this second so that the panic would subside. He needed to be very cautious, lest he raise suspicion. He tried to force the trembling out of his voice as he called to Warrick.

"Hey Warrick? Tell Grissom I'll be right there. I just need to grab my cell phone from my locker while I think of it."

Warrick seemed to find this a reasonable excuse and nodded his head. Nick slipped into the locker room and, after making sure it was empty, opened the bottle of pills. He shook two of the little blue pills into his hand, popped them into his mouth and swallowed them dry. He coughed a bit as one of the pills stuck slightly on the way down. Wouldn't that be the great irony? Choking to death on the very pills that the shrink thinks I want to OD on. He cleared his throat and fumbled to close the bottle. He hands didn't seem to want to co-operate because they were trembling so badly. He had just about succeeded in closing the bottle when a hand snaked out from behind him and swept the bottle from his hands. He gasped as the pills clattered like tiny pellets of hail across the locker room floor. He turned and saw Warrick's face glaring at him thunderously. Before Nick could speak Warrick had grabbed him roughly by both arms and pinned him against the wall.

"How many did you take?" he bellowed in a voice that could be heard clear across town. "How many!"

Nick winced at the grip his friend had. He realized that Warrick must have been thinking the worst. "Warrick, I didn't-"

"I won't stand by and watch you self destruct!" Warrick shouted.

"Go to hell!" Nick found himself yelling back. "Don't even pretend you know what I am going through!"

"I would if you would just tell me!"

Nick laughed a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, that will be the day. Because you have been so emotionally available lately and all" He wrenched his arms out of Warrick's vice-like grip.

Warrick made no move to grab him again. "Nick I know you must be feeling-"

"Ha! You don't know anything about how I have been feeling. Or not feeling for that matter. Do you know what its like to go through every day without feeling anything? I didn't think so!" Nick practically spat as he bent to pick up the pills.

"No!" Warrick shouted as he yanked Nick up by one arm. "You can't hide behind the pills!"

"Watch me!"

Without warning, Warrick drew his arm back and slapped Nick across the face with as much strength as he could muster. "Damn you! Feel something! Feel anything!"

"Warrick!" A third voice broke in. Grissom strode into the locker room, though he had seen everything. He reached Nick who was holding his stinging cheek in one hand. The look in Nick's eyes was murderous. Warrick stepped back involuntarily. Grissom took charge of the situation.

"Nick, you're going to join me in my office. Warrick, you're going to clean this up. I will deal with you later." Leaving no room for discussion, he propelled Nick gently from the room by one elbow, leaving Warrick alone to wonder how things had gone so horribly wrong.

Grissom all but pushed Nick into one of the chairs in his office, and then went to sit behind his desk. He was silent for a long moment. Nick felt like he needed to offer some sort of explanation.

"I'm not addicted to the pills," he said lamely, even though it was the truth.

Grissom nodded. "I know".

"You do?" He hadn't intended to sound so surprised but he had just assumed the Grissom, like Warrick, thought he was addicted to the Xanax that he had been taking to deal with his anxiety.

"Yes Nick, I know you're not addicted to the pills. I've learned the hard way how to be on the lookout for warning signs of addiction. But I am worried about you. I spoke to Dr. Stanley this morning."

"And?" he said, though he had a pretty good idea of the answer.

"And she confirmed what I had begun to suspect. That you are having difficulty dealing with the ordeal and that you are at a dangerous crossroad. I want you to level with me Nicky: are you thinking about ending your life?"

"Is that the question of the day? Because it's getting really old, really fast."

"You haven't answered me Nick" Grissom said severely.

"Grissom –no. I am not thinking of killing myself. And I'm not on drugs and I am not a danger to others and I'm not whatever other horrible things you think I am. I am fine."

"No you're not" The words were tinged with sadness.

"It's nothing I can't take care of myself," said Nick firmly. "Is there anything else? Because I know there must be a desk somewhere that has a mountain of paperwork on it for me. I am pushing paper until I can convince all of you that there is nothing to worry about. If you'll excuse me, I want to get back to work." He got up and walked out, half expecting to hear Grissom call him back. But Grissom didn't say a word. As Nick went to bury himself in the paper mountain that he was condemned to, he found himself really wishing that he still had the pills. There were still thirty-five of them, provided Warrick found them all. That would have been more than what he needed.

Grissom watched Nick go with a mixture of concern and sadness. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Why won't you let anyone help you?"