He was running before Catherine's voice had begun to taper off. There was no mistaking the sound of her scream. She's found Nick.
Running full tilt, Warrick managed to be one of the first one's there and grabbed up a shovel from one of the officers that had been following Catherine. Then everything else around him was gone and his only concern was getting to Nick before his air ran out. Anything else wasn't an option. Nick wasn't dying in that damn box. He was coming home. And he made sure that Nick knew it too, shouting down into the ever-deepening hole and just waiting for the moment that they got down far enough and could hear Nick too.
Then he hit it. Something that most definitely wasn't dirt.
"Nick! Nicky!"
On his hands and knees, Warrick began clearing away the dirt covering Nick's plexiglass prison. When he saw the flashes of eerie green slipping through the soil he moved faster. He had to get to Nick.
At first there was only foggy and scratched plexiglass and for an instant Warrick feared the worst.
Then a hand slammed against the lid from the other side.
"—rick!" Nick's voice was a garbled mess of screaming, sobbing and choking, but Warrick felt his whole body slump in relief. Nick was alive.
The hand on the other side jerked about, clearing away the condensation and Warrick finally saw his face. Even in that freakish green glow—or perhaps moreso because of it –Warrick could tell how close Nick was to snapping. It was a miracle that it hadn't happened already.
Then he noticed the gun for the first time and that Nick once again had it pressed to the underside of his chin. Close to panic himself now, Warrick leaned in close, not wanting to startle Nick by slapping the glass.
"Hey, put that down. Put that down," Warrick said sternly, holding Nick's frantic gaze.
Shaking and crying out, Nick slowly began to edge the gun away from his chin.
"Put that down," Warrick continued, his voice calm and steady. "We're gonna get you out of here. Just hang tight and we'll get you out of here." Warrick pressed his palm against Nick's jittery one, giving his friend something to focus on. "You're safe now. It's all over."
There were probably a thousand other things he said and forgot while he waited for Greg to get the fire extinguisher, knowing that Nick needed to hear his voice. He needed something to focus on after twenty-two hours in that prison.
"Rick, please," Nick sobbed, his fingers scrabbling at the smooth surface of the plexiglass. "Please please please please…."
"Greg, hurry up!" Warrick called, not caring that his voice cracked at the end. His eyes never left Nick's. He wanted nothing more than to yank open the lid and haul Nick out, but the ants needed to be dealt with first. "We're gonna get you out of there, Nicky. Hold on."
Warrick made sure to stay in Nick's line of sight as he shuffled to the lift one of the corners of the box so that Greg could spray some Co2 in. A couple quick jets at the top and bottom and it would all be over. He could get Nick out of there and—
"Everybody out of the hole!" Catherine shouted from somewhere behind him. "That box is ready to explode!"
Warrick wanted to react, but knew that he needed to stay calm for Nick's sake. Nick was a twitching, sobbing wreck, but he was calmer so long as Warrick kept in eye contact with him. He wasn't going to chance Nick thinking he was being abandoned by looking away.
"Get out of there now!" Catherine called down to him.
"I'm not leaving without Nick," Warrick ground out with a resolute shake of his head.
Catherine sounded equal parts terrified and exasperated with her next statement. "There are charges under the box."
For the life of him he couldn't figure out how Catherine thought that would get him out of the hole. If things were reversed, Nick wouldn't leave him. It would be moot point, of course, because he wouldn't have held out as long as Nick had. But Nick still wouldn't have left him.
"I'm not leaving here without him," Warrick called back up the slope.
Even without the ants there to torment him any longer, Nick was still crying out and shuddering. His panicked sobs were a knife in Warrick's gut. There was nothing anyone could say that would make him abandon Nick then. The bomb would either take the both of them out or neither. He wasn't going to let Nick face it alone.
"Warrick, Catherine's right," Grissom insisted, his voice oddly emotional. "Get out of the hole now. I know what we're gonna do. Just trust me."
Time was, Warrick would have done just that. It would have gutted him to leave a teammate behind, but he would have done it. But not Nick. Never Nick.
"Warrick," Nick whimpered, thumping on the glass with his palm.
His lips twitched in a brief mockery of a smile. "I'm staying right here, Nicky. I promise." Then, louder, so that Grissom could hear, "I'm not leaving Nick. Tell me what you need done, but I'm not leaving this hole without Nick."
There were raised voices from outside the hole: arguing, shouted instructions, pleas for him to get out of there and a few frantic encouragements.
Keeping his left hand pressed up against the glass where Nick could see it, Warrick slid his right one towards the lid of the box, sticking his fingers into the gap that was giving Nick fresh air. When he had half of his hand wedged in, he began tapping on the underside of the lid to get Nick's attention. The dark eyes flashed to his left immediately, a chocked off cry slipping past his lips when he saw that Warrick's fingers were in the box with him.
"Rick," Nick sobbed, clutching at Warrick's fingers with both hands. "Get me outta here. Warrick, please."
"We're gonna get you out of there, Nicky," Warrick promised him, sucking in a deep breath through his nose to keep his own tears in check. "We just gotta figure out how to do it safe. Be a shame for you to die on us now."
It was all that Warrick could do to keep his voice steady as Nick's trembling fingers twisted about his own. Warrick squeezed Nick's fingers tight, wishing that he could get his thumb in there to stroke over Nick's battered knuckles. If this was going to be his and Nick's last few minutes breathing, he wanted to give his best friend some kind of comfort first.
"What's going on up there, Griss?" Warrick shouted once he got Nick to calm down a bit. "We need to get Nick out of here."
He noticed the shifting of dirt out of the corner of his eye and a moment later Grissom was down in the hole with him. Grissom stayed without Warrick's line of sight even if he didn't get too close to the box.
"We figure that the explosives are on pressure sensors," Grissom explained in his usual calm and detached voice. "We're getting dirt to equalize Nick's weight, but we need you to keep him in the box and get him hooked up to the cable I give you."
It was no small feat that Grissom was asking for. Instinct alone would have Nick scrambling out of the box the moment the lid was lifted. After nearly a whole day trapped in that hell, Nick was a raw nerve of emotions and desperate for contact if the way he was clutching at Warrick's fingers was any indication.
"Nick. Nicky, I need you to focus right now," Warrick said, giving Nick's fingers a quick squeeze to make sure he had his attention. "I'm gonna open the lid, but I need you to sit tight for another minute or so, okay? We're gonna get you out, but we have to do it real careful so that we don't end up getting blown to bits."
"I want out, Rick. Please just let me out," Nick snuffled, shifting about in the small confines.
"I can't do that until you give me your word that you won't do anything stupid, buddy. Just lay there and let us do our job."
Nick's twitching caused him to tug on Warrick's hand. "I want out. Please…."
"Give me your word, Nicky," Warrick insisted, his eyes tracking Nick's as the other man moved about spastically. "Just one word, Nick. One word and I'll have this box open."
"Promise," Nick sniffed muckily, his eyes once again filling with tears. If they'd ever been dry.
"You won't try to get up?"
"Promise."
Sliding over so that he was kneeling on the dirt and no longer on the box, Warrick waited for all the dirt to be cleared off the lid. Once he had the okay from Grissom, he grabbed the lip with his left hand and yanked it up. Warrick allowed the lid to be pulled from his grasp by whoever else was helping to pen it, his now free hand immediately reaching towards Nick.
With a choked off sob, Nick grabbed tight to Warrick's arm. His fingers squeezed tight enough to bruise, something Warrick wouldn't notice until later, while Warrick pressed that same hand to Nick's chest. He could feel the frantic beating of Nick's heart under his fingers.
"I've gotcha. I've gotcha," Warrick soothed, leaning over far enough to touch his forehead to Nick's. It was an uncomfortable position, but he really didn't care. "Lay still. Lay still. It's okay. You're doing really good, Nicky. Just lay still."
"Rick," Nick sobbed, unconcerned of the desperate way he was grabbing at the other man. He was clutching Warrick with both hands, one on his arm and the other around the taller man's shoulders. "Get me outta here, Rick. Please."
Nick's harsh breathing was hot and damp against Warrick's cheek. Warrick was anxious to offer him some sort of comfort, but found himself choked for words. All that he could do was mumble nonsense words against Nick's cheek, hoping that he was helping in at least some small way. All that it seemed to do was make Nick grab onto him even harder.
"Just relax, Nicky. Breathe deep," Warrick soothed, stroking his hand over Nick's chest.
Warrick heard a shuffling sound next to him and turned just enough to see what was going on. That it was Grissom standing there didn't really surprise him.
"I need you to hook this up to Nick's belt then get out of the hole," Grissom instructed, holding a thick cable out towards him.
Shifting his weight so that he could still hang onto Nick, Warrick reached for the cable with his free hand. "I already told you, Griss, I'm not leaving Nicky in here."
"You don't really have a choice. We can get Nick out of here, but we won't be able to pull both of you out quick enough."
The truth of it frustrated Warrick the most. As much as he wanted to stay with Nick, he couldn't let his guilt risk Nick's life. With a jerky nod of his head, Warrick clipped the rigging to Nick's sturdy leather belt. He struggled a bit getting it to fit around the wide buckle, and as he met Nick's eyes again, managed a ghost of a smile.
"We're gonna need to have a talk about these buckles of yours, cowboy," Warrick murmured affectionately once he had the rigging secured. "You're not that much of a cowboy, tough guy."
"More a cowboy than you," Nick gasped out, the most coherent thing he'd said yet.
Leaning forward once more, Warrick bumped his forehead against Nick's. "Just sit tight for another minute, Nicky, and we'll have you outta here."
The two men held each other's eyes for an endless second, a whole conversation playing out between them. A million things both said and unsaid from their long friendship. Warrick could say without hesitation that Nick was closer to him than anyone else in his life. He liked to think that Nick felt the same about him.
"You're the strongest man I know, Nick. I'll see you at the top of the hill," Warrick said with quiet surety as he began to straighten himself up. "When I give the word, you breathe deep and hold it. You got that, Nicky?"
Nick exhaled loudly, nodding his head jerkily. "I got it."
"See you topside, buddy."
"See you topside."