Well here we go with the third to last chapter... sorry if this one is kinda boring... I just wanted a little something before I wrapped it all up. So I started my new fanfic last night! It made me really happy (just like your reviews), but I should get that one posted soon, its only three chapters and I've got one third written... so... yeah...

Reviewers, you rock! (Still)

Chapter 17

The hospital had long since become a dreary place for all of them, and Nick had developed a strange hate for plain white walls, papery sheets and sterile smelling bathrooms. Often, he would get up and sneak out of his room to walk around, wishing somehow that he could get out. The doctors saw this and ushered him back to his room where he was once again confined to bed.

It was like a prison, he decided one evening when he was laying and staring up at the ceiling. He thought he'd be free of hospitals forever when he'd gotten out after his previous kidnapping. It seemed he wasn't. There was little to do that he was interested in, so he found himself reading and sleeping a lot. He wished the team would give him something to do, but the doctors always squashed those ideas. He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been there. After the first week, he'd lost count and now he was just letting the days pass slowly.

He knew Greg had felt the same way. The bullet had broken and artery or two on its way in and hadn't come out the other side, so he'd also lost quite a lot of blood and had to go in for surgery. Afterwards, he'd reacted to the painkillers they gave him and was consequently forced to stay there longer. Nick had been able to talk with him when he was in the hospital, and that had made the time pass a little faster, but as he was released two days ago, Nick was alone again, and bored.

The team visited every day or so, but only for a while at a time, and wouldn't speak to him of work. He had a feeling Ecklie was giving them problems, though about what, he had no idea. They also refused to say anything about the kidnapping case, but he got the feeling that Catherine didn't know much either. Part of him wanted to know what had happened, but part the sensitive part of him wanted to keep it unknown. He'd speculated about that night often enough, and he tried to keep his speculations hopeful, but the team seemed slightly disappointed. More often than not, he thought about what would happen if all the suspects died in the shoot-out when they were rescued. He wasn't sure what to think and he wasn't sure if he wanted to think about it either. The thought that his captors would escape punishment, even in death bothered him. It was the same way his Gordon case ended up. Part of him wanted to save others from suffering, even if they'd been the reason for his own suffering, but part of him wanted to look them in the eye as they were marched away in handcuffs. His job was to do both.

A couple times, he wondered if he could have been out of the hospital faster if he'd taken some care of himself through the whole kidnapping. His constant forced movement had kept the wounds open and he'd earned himself one too many kicks to the stomache. The doctors never told him the extent of his injuries, but the team had filled in a couple of the gaps he couldn't decide for himself. Among those were blood loss, broken ribs, internal injuries and bleeding, the effects of the poison they put on his cuts and, he had no idea how it happened, but a broken wrist.

Catherine visited him considerably more than the others, once, bringing Lindsey along with her. The first time she'd come by herself, she did nothing but apologize profusely and with many shed tears until he asked her what she was saying sorry for. She maintained that he didn't have to distract them for her in the warehouse and it was her fault that he did. Nick had watched her throughout her explanation, head cocked sideways, and the moment she was done, he insured her that it was nothing to be sorry for and that she was being stupid.

He knew it wasn't the end of that conversation, but she did leave the hospital looking minimally comforted. Warrick was another one of his constant visitors and stayed with him longer than the others did. Nick found his visits refreshing. Warrick seldom mentioned either kidnapping, kept pity out of his voice and treated Nick like he always did. They would sit and talk about sports, laugh about T.V shows they both liked to watch and on occasion, play video games when Warrick brought his Play station 2 along. Once, Warrick even spent the night in the hospital, sleeping on the chair put in Nick's room for visitors.

Almost three weeks after he'd been hospitalized, the doctor came in and told him he could be released in two days. This news put Nick in high spirits, and he didn't even mind the doctor's command to take it easy for a week. He rarely listened to doctor's orders anyways. The fresh air almost brought tears to his eyes.

Warrick offered to let Nick stay at his house for a while, but he refused and waved goodbye to his team when they dropped him off at home. He'd considered going back to the lab with them, but he had a strange longing to see his house again and collapse on the bed to sleep.

The inside was dark, and it was soothing in itself. There was always some sort of light on in the hospital, some sort of bright, white light. He hated them now, and welcomed the dark room. His house was just as he remembered it, except that there was a big pile of mail on his kitchen table. Warrick must have gotten the mail for him while he was in the hospital. He would go through it later. At the moment, he was exhausted and needed sleep, so he wandered to his bedroom and collapsed on his bed, grateful for the familiar feel of his mattress. It was good to be home.

TBC...