Author's Notes: Okay, so upon re-reading that last chapter, it is pretty disturbing. Sorry! I wrote myself into a plot corner, and a good old-fashioned dream sequence seemed to be the only way out! God willing, the rest of the chapters will be a little more rooted in reality (I make no promises however!). Thanks for all the kind reviews and I still am not making any money off this: I am just feeding my ego.

Three Days Earlier

"What if it all means something?"

Nick fought the urge to slam his head repeatedly into the huge cherry oak desk. Why, why, WHY had he told Dr. Stanley about the dream? As if coming here and letting her pick him apart with that phony smile on her face wasn't bad enough. Now he was giving her reason to interrogate him further. He hadn't meant to tell her; it had slipped out when she asked how he had been sleeping. He had stupidly admitted to falling asleep at work and then even more stupidly told her about his disturbing dream. And now, there she was, with the damn phony smile on her face, asking him a question that she knew full well he wouldn't be able to answer.

"Like what?" he ask, as if he really cared to know the answer.

"What do you think it means?" she asked calmly.

I think it means that you are starting to get on my last nerve. "I think it means that the stress of the last few days is getting to me. I think it means that after talking with both you and Grissom, I can't help but have these really dark images implanted in my head."

"I see. Do you often blame others for your own problems?"

Do you think anyone would blame me if I dropkicked you right now? "I don't think I am blaming anyone for my problems. I am making an observation on things the way I see them."

"Really. Well I think you are inaccurate in your observations. Would you like to know why?" she said from behind too many teeth.

I'd like to know why you can't leave me the hell alone. "Sure, please enlighten me" He didn't even try to keep the edge out of his voice.

She didn't bat an eye. "Alright. You are in denial about your problems and are quick to shift the focus off of you onto anyone around you. When you refer to the episodes you've experienced the past few days you put the emphasis on what involvement the other individual had in your experience. When you talk about the incident in the car you preface it by telling me that 'Sara turned the car off and I panicked'. When you talk about what happened at the crime scene you start with 'Greg snuck up behind me and I lost it'. You try to make it out to be a case of cause and effect, which, quite frankly Nick, it's not. You are trying to minimize your own involvement in your problems and instead make it out to be someone else's problem that they are placing squarely on your shoulders. You refuse to accept responsibility for what is transpiring and you are unwilling to acknowledge the fact that you are clearly in trouble. Your dream last night indicates that on some level, whether you are aware of it or not, you have suicidal tendencies at this point in time. Now, do you want to continue sitting here being defiant or do you want to do something to make it better?"

Uhhhh…."Uhhhh…"

"I realize that this is difficult to hear Nick, but you need to be told. I am not the enemy, no matter how much you hate me right now. I want to help you Nick but I can't do that until you acknowledge that there is a problem here, one far bigger than you are capable of dealing with by yourself."

Haven't I burdened everybody enough? I can't ask for help anymore – I've become a hassle. "I wish it were that simple"

"Tell me why its not."

I would doc but I'm on the clock here. "I don't want to admit I need anyone's help"

"Why not?"

You're the shrink, you tell me. There must be a fancy-schmancy term for this. "Because I don't want to bother anyone."

"Why do you think it would bother people to admit that you need their help?"

Because I can't stand to see the pity in their eyes anymore. "I just feel like I should be able to deal with it myself"

"That's all fine and well Nick but you just answered a question that I didn't ask. Why do you think it would bother people to admit that you need their help?"

Can't you just back the hell off once and a while? "I don't know. It's just the way I feel".

She changed the subject. "What was your relationship with your co-workers like before the incident?"

Oh we were all just footloose and fancy-free…when we weren't having Ecklie drive a wedge between us. It was okay except for the way Catherine and Sara could barely be in the same room together without snarking at one another. It was great except when Grissom was cutting Greg down in some perverse attempt to build him up. It was swell except for when Warrick seemed to practically disappear. It was wonderful except when I was trying to pretend that everything wasn't a shadow of what it used to be not so long ago. "Our relationship was perfect. Couldn't ask for more."

"And after the incident?"

Well let's see. Once I stopped clinging to them like I would never let go at the hospital, things have been pretty good. Sure, Warrick seems like a bomb just waiting to go off due to his guilt over it being me, not him. And okay, so Sara watches me like a hawk and can't wait to jump in and play therapist. Catherine is great, when she's not burying herself in a case – no pun intended. I mean, yeah Greg has become really quiet and practically blends into the woodwork. And I guess Grissom is acting like he is hiding something from me, but otherwise everything is A-OK. "Our relationship hasn't really changed that much. I think everything's just super."

She looked at him long and hard. It was as if she was trying to read his thoughts. He wondered if he was really that transparent, and if she could really see through him so easily. How could he ever explain to her that he had never been surrounded by more people, yet never felt lonelier?

"Nick, how did it make you feel when you found out that the team could see you in the box?"

Oh tell me that you're not going there "Why is that relevant?"

"I think that you are experiencing some very complex feelings regarding your friends and co-workers right now, and I am trying to gain as much information as I can. Which, may I be so bold to say, is increasingly difficult since you are so unwilling to tell me more than what you think it is that I want to hear"

Oh go to hell "Fine. If you really want to know, I felt really embarrassed when I found out that everyone could see me losing it inside that box. It's not the image that I want them to think of when they think of me. And yet every time they look at me, I think that's what they're seeing. I have never felt, or looked, more helpless in my life. I feel like they are looking at me like I am some kind of total failure and some pathetic loser."

"Why do you think that Nick?"

You don't work with them every day. You have no idea. "I think that because I know them. If it had been any of them, they would have handled it very differently. Grissom would have figured out that the light was connected to the fan and would have disabled it without shooting a hole into the box that let those damn ants in. Of course, I'm not so sure that the ants would have bothered him so much. Sara would have been her usual cool, calm collected self until we came and got her. Nothing fazes that girl, I swear. Warrick would have disguised any panic that he may have felt behind that ultra cool exterior of his. None of them would have reacted the way I did."

"Warrick would be very happy to hear you paint that kind of picture of him. He wouldn't believe you, but he'd appreciate the kind of person you think he is"

How the hell would you know what Warrick would think? Unless… "Warrick's been to see you?"

"They all have"

It gets better and better, doesn't it? "Even Grissom?"

She nodded. "Your friends have pain too Nick"

Do I even want to know? "What did they tell you?"

She smiled what may have been the only genuine smile he'd ever seen her show. "You know I can't tell you that"

It was worth a try "Are they okay? Can you at least tell me that?"

"They are all dealing with it in their own ways. But they are all still dealing with it, of that I can assure you."

Great. Its not bad enough they had to dig my sorry ass out of the ground but now they have to see a shrink to deal with it too? Could I be more of a burden? "The never told me"

"Maybe they didn't know how you would react. You can understand that, can't you?"

And we're back where we started again "I think my time is just about up for today Doctor"

For a minute he thought she was going to object and make him stay. Instead she set the file down and rose to see him out. "Nick, you have some great friends who want to see you through this. Please consider the possibility that you are not the only one suffering. Sometimes, pain can help heal pain. I'll see you in a couple of days."

If I can make it until then "See you then"

He walked out of her office, not certain he would ever want to walk back in.

He drove around aimlessly for nearly an hour. The car must have known the way by itself because he didn't remember guiding it anywhere. He found himself on the edge of Lake Mead. He had been there countless times before and he was oddly relieved to find himself there again. He parked the car and wandered down to the sandy shore. He picked up some rocks and began to skip them across the waters silent surface, He remembered hearing somewhere that each time you threw a rock into the water, it not only disrupted the surface but also changed the water forever by remaining on the bottom. It was not unlike how he felt these days. Everything that had happened in recent months had had obvious ripples on the surface, but the more plaguing damage was what had remained after the incident had passed. He was changed forever, and no amount of therapy was going to change that. He began to think back on his appointment with Dr. Stanley. It had surprised him to hear that members of the team had all met with her following his ordeal. He hadn't realized how much it had impacted them. Instead of being glad that they were indeed experiencing concern for him, he felt bad. It was his fault that they needed to talk to someone. If he had handled himself differently, they would have never needed to see Dr. Stanley and her phony grin. Okay, maybe he couldn't have prevented Walter Gordon kidnapping him. But he sure could have held it together while he was in the box. Even now he cringed when he thought of how they must perceive him after witnessing his meltdown. He was just damaged goods. He had fallen apart inside the box. No wonder they all seemed to think he was going to fall apart now. Poor, pathetic Nick who loses his cool when things get tough. He wouldn't want to work with somebody who was such an emotional disaster. He sighed and sank into the sand less than three feet from the water's edge. Damn it was cold. No wonder the lakeshore was so empty. He was the only living soul stupid enough to be sitting on the shores of the lake in this weather. The wind whipped around him, chilling him to his core. He ran his hands over the course texture of the sand, letting it fall through his fingers. He recalled another philosophical analogy – one about the tighter you hold the sand, the more you lose. If you hold the sand loosely however, you can keep it. He was sure they were talking about love, but he felt like it applied to his memories. He was holding too tightly to them, and the tighter he held the memories, the more he lost himself. He wanted to loosen his grip on himself and let go. Letting go would be so wonderful. He just didn't want to have to think about it anymore. How great it must be to just decide that it was time to put the memories to rest. He continued to dig his hands though the cool sand, making a small hole in the earth beside him…

Dirt. Everywhere he looked there was dirt. It surrounded him on all sides. He was looking out a window into the depths of the earth. There was no light, except that hideous green glow that warped his world around him. There was no telling how much dirt was around him. Inches? Feet? He felt like the earth around him was crushing him like a boa constrictor. As he stared up at the dirt, he could see his own features reflected back at him. He was being smothered! He was part of the earth now! And there was no escape…

"No!" he shouted as he leapt up from the hole he was digging. He took a few harried steps away from the nightmare, not even noticing that he was stepping directly into the lake. It took three more steps after that before he even realized that he was up to his shins in the ice-cold water. He stopped and stared. Well he must be quite a sight to see as he stood there in the lake. The cold pierced his skin but it was strangely comforting. For the first time, he actually felt something. The pain was a welcome relief to the numbness that had taken control of him so many months ago. He took another tentative step into the lake. Then another. And another. Before he knew it, the water was over his knees. Man, I must be losing it he thought as he continued to wade further out. Fully clothed and still moving deeper. Yep, I am officially crazy. Dr. Stanley must be sitting somewhere saying, "I told you so". He was out in water over his waist now. How easy it would be to just keep walking until the water just swept him up in its icy grasp. He wasn't even aware that he was wading out further. Before he knew it, the water was up to his neck. The cold tore through him like a knife, sucking the breath right out of him. He wondered how long it would take for hypothermia to set in. Probably only a few more minutes if he remembered correctly. He tentatively moved out further. He was so used to feeling the ground beneath his shoes that it was shock when he suddenly found himself in water up over his head. The drop off came suddenly and he inhaled a huge amount of water as he submerged. He choked and spluttered, but in his panic, didn't have the presence of mind to back up. He felt like he was being pulled deeper into the watery abyss. He was washed up in the blackness of the water and the burning of his lungs. He saw spots dance before his eyes and his body screamed at him for air. He splashed blindly in the water, until he foot brushed the bottom. It was all he needed. He pulled back through the water until his other foot found the security of the lake floor. He pushed himself up through the surface just as his lungs finally gave up. Instead of the mouthful of water he'd been expecting he got air and he greedily tried to draw in as much air as he could. It took several long minutes but he was finally assured that the air was not going to be taken away from him. He made his way sluggishly back to the shore, where he immediately threw up. Well. That had been potentially bad. He could only imagine what everyone's response would have been when his body turned up weeks later.

"Right up until the end he denied there was a problem. And here we are, dragging him out of the water. After we exhaust all this time and effort into finding him, we find out that he threw himself into a lake. He couldn't even die without letting us down"

Nick brushed the sand off his jeans as best he could and began to stagger his way back to the car. He had a feeling he had just avoided embarrassing himself again. His team would have been so disappointed in him if they had had to dredge the lake to find his body. It would have been such an imposition. He could just see them shaking their heads and saying "He couldn't even kill himself properly". No, it was better that it didn't end this way. He wondered absently if they would miss him if he were gone. Before the nightmare with Walter Gordon, he would have said that yes, they would be devastated to lose him. Now he wasn't so sure. They had been relieved to find him alive, but was that relief short-lived? Maybe he just wasn't worth the hassle anymore. Maybe he needed to do something about it. It wouldn't be pretty. Hell, it wouldn't even be original. But it would get the job done. As he climbed into his car, soaked and still reeling from the near drowning, he made up his mind.

"This ends now"