Title: Inside My Coffin

Disclaimer: Slash. Suicide. Angst. Language.

POV: Nick

Chapter Twelve: Turn of the Screws

My eyes open to a dimly lit room. The whir and buzz of hospital equipment keeps the silence at bay. I start crying as I realize what happened. Someone found me. They saved me again. Only this time I didn't want to be saved. I wanted to escape the pain. I still do. The bandages on my wrists look out of place. With anger and frustration I rip at the bandage on my left wrist. It doesn't belong there. I don't belong here. The bandage tears easily. The wound underneath is tender and fresh. The skin is easy to break. I watch the blood drip onto the blanket. I start on the right bandage when the door to my room opens.

"Nicky, stop it," Grissom orders. He leans back out the door and calls for a nurse.

He walks briskly up to the bed and grabs my right arm. I haven't gotten through the bandage. But that's okay. Enough blood is flowing from my body to make me dizzy. The nurse rushes into the room with a needle full of something. I feel the prick of the needle as it breaks the skin. The liquid is mixed with my blood and the room grows darker.

Who knows how much time passes before I wake up again? When I do I move my wrists. Or try to. They don't move the way I want them to. A glance shows me that my arms are bound to the bed. I'm being restrained. I pull at the restraints with what little power I have. Being buried in a coffin is bad enough. I keep struggling to free at least one of my arms.

A hand is placed on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Nicky, but it had to be done. There's no use in fighting against them."

I glare at Grissom. What right does he have to do this to me?

He pulls up a chair and sits beside me. He studies me with unreadable eyes. It makes my skin crawl so I look away. Maybe if I ignore him he'll go away. Maybe I'm not really here. My mind is playing games with me. I died in the desert. I imagined the sounds of a car pulling up. No one checked me for a pulse. I died. This is all some sort of freaky dream. Nothing more.

"I wish I could understand," Grissom says.

The little dream bubble pops.

"Help me to understand, Nicky," he asks softly.

I pull against the restraints again. I feel like screaming but hold it in. How can he sit there and question me like a suspect? The only person I tried to murder was myself. He wasn't there to stop me. What use is it now? Grissom rests a hand on my arm to calm me.

"Settle down before you hurt yourself more, Nick."

"Leave me alone, Grissom," I demand.

"I can't do that, Nick. Your wellbeing is very important to me. Especially when it brings you to this. How…" He pauses. "Even I don't understand this, Nicky, and I'm a scientist."

I choose not to answer him. They've had their chances to talk. The signs were there. They didn't read them. They decided not to. I pick a point on the far wall and concentrate on it.

"Talk to me, Nick. I am currently down by two investigators and I would like some sort of explanation."

I don't tear my eyes from the wall. "Down by two?"

Grissom rubs his eyes. "Greg-"

"What about Greg? Is he okay?" I turn to look at him.

"Well, if you would let me finish. Greg had to be sedated."

Now it's my turn. "I don't understand."

He leans back in his chair. "After you stormed out last night Ecklie told me everything. I called you twice; the first time you answered, the second time you didn't. When Catherine told me how you looked storming out of the lab I got worried. We broke up into teams to look for you," he explains. "An officer told Brass that he saw one of our company SUVs heading off into the desert. I went with Greg to see where you were going." He stops talking. The silence disturbs me.

"And?"

"When Greg found you laying in the sand with the affects of what you had done to yourself he lost it. He refused to leave your side for anything. Even rode in the ambulance with you. Because he wouldn't leave your side he was there when…" Grissom trails off uncomfortably.

If he can push, so can I. "When what?"

He looks at me again. That ever studying gaze. Something in his eyes has changed. The fire in them seems dimmer. For the first time since I woke up I give him a hard look. He's wearing the same clothes from the night before. I notice the dark spots of blood. My blood. There are dark circles under his eyes. His hair is messed up. He clearly hasn't eaten or slept since…

"You scared use all, Nick. We almost lost you. Greg nearly followed your lead when you flat-lined. Sedating him was really the only choice we had. He obviously loves you," Grissom says softly.

Loves me, the words echo in my mind. For a moment in time I had actually died. My spirit had slipped away. I had died and damn near taken Greg with me. I feel the tears running their familiar races. My life has gone so wrong, so far down hill. The pain in my chest makes it hard to breath. I start coughing and notice how Grissom reacts. He's loses his calm façade as he jumps up to call for the nurse. I shake my head and point toward the water. He gets the point, pours me a glass, and hands it to me. I make short order of it.

"I'm sorry I messed up, Griss. I really am," I croak.

He shakes his head, patting my shoulder. "I fear it was to be expected. We all could have tried harder. We will this time. I promise."

I look him straight in the eyes. "I'm sorry about Greg."

"Why?"

Good question. Why should I be sorry for loving Greg? I've done nothing wrong. I turn away.

"I listened to everything that Ecklie had to say. Really, he had no right to bring up your personal life like that. I wish you had told me, Nicky."

I involuntarily try to rub my ear. The restraint digs into my skin. All the frustration and anger comes back again. I lay my head back on the pillow with a little more force than needed. Grissom gives me a worrying look.

"I'll have those removed. Only if you give me your word that you won't try hurting yourself."

"I won't. I swear. Just take them off." I feel exhausted. "They remind me of being confined in the coffin," I say as I feel myself drifting off.

When I awake I find myself alone in the dark room. My restraints have been removed. I flex my wrists. I can feel the tender skin moving underneath the bandage. My head is throbbing with the pain of a headache. I rub against the bandage, tracing my fingers slowly along it. The dark room pushes at the memories. Like a butterfly it flutters in my chest. I hear the sound of the fan. Feel the heat of the light. I remember shooting out that damn light. For once I find that I want to return to the coffin. Only this time I don't want to be alive.

I grip the bandage as I force my promise to Grissom from my mind. He'll have to understand. Even if he doesn't, I don't care. It's too much. I pull at the white gauze.

"Don't you dare," Greg says as he steps out of the dark.

He scares me and I let out a yelp of surprise. "Damn it, Greg, don't scare me like that."

"Scare you?" He looks positively pissed. "You don't want me to scare you? After the hell you put me through?"

"Greggo-"

"Was it something I did?" He asks innocently as the anger fades away.

I shake my head. "No, no, never you," I sob.

"Why didn't you talk to me?" He asks quietly.

"Not here, Greg, not now. Please, not now."

When had the page been turned? Wasn't I the one always wanting to talk and Greg the one always avoiding the issue? Greg stands beside me. He looked like an entirely different person. There is no spark in his eyes. No smile on his face. Not even a touch of playfulness to his voice. I did this to him. I changed him.

"I'm sorry," I whisper through the tears.

He doesn't say anything in response. He places a hand on my cheek and leans over. I feel the warmth of his lips. The life that is still inside him. The life he shares with me. I place my hand over his. The door opens interrupting the moment. Grissom clears his throat.