Custom Search

These are the following parts in the series Unraveled, Watching, Shower of Tears, Illusion of Normalcy

Title:Unraveled
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Grave Danger
Characters: Nick/ Warrick's POV
Category: Angst, pre-slash and h/c
Summary: In the aftermath Warrick fights to keep it together.
Author's Note: My first fic ever in the CSI-fandom.
Disclaimer: Me own zip and nada, ‘cept an overactive imagination. No infringment of copyright intended.

He was able to hold it together in the amulance.

He had to. Losing it right there wasn't an option. Not with Nick trembling and shivering, clasping his hand desperately despite all the medication the paramedic poured into him. Nick was still on the edge of hysteria. And it seemed contagious.

Looking at him claw at the restraints, not quite conscious, and listening to the hoarsely whispered pleads tore at what was left of his shattered heart. All he could do was hold Nick's hand, mumbling reassurances at him when he jumped every time the ambulance took a turn and he felt the restraints. He moaned and tried to get up, every damn time that happened and his eyes were dark pools of bottomless panic.

Warrick had to put his free hand on the heaving chest and push him down gently. The heart beats raced under his palm and terrified him. He begged the paramedic to give Nick more of whatever he was administering trough the I.V. The paramedic shook his head, there was no way they'd risk overdosing him at this stage. So Warrick held him down, talking soothingly to him, as he would to a child, trying to reach trough that blinding fear he read in Nick's unfocused eyes.

Helpless, that's what he felt like, utterly helpless and guilty.

Catherine must have sensed his agony because she put her hand over his on Nick's chest and took over the soothing mumbles when Warrick's voice broke. She must have understood by then, but at that stage he didn't care who knew that his feelings for the man on the stretcher were far deeper than he wanted to admit. Even to himself.

Standing there, watching them wheel Nick away and listening to the rest of the team arriving he had asked Catherine about why Griss had called Nicky 'Pancho' and at her tale his throat had narrowed. He had to stop talking after that. His voice would have come out a pitiful moan, he just knew it.

But he had held it together more or less. Until now.

Standing here, watching Nick being hooked up to various machines with a horde of people clad in white dancing around the room in hurried steps and with blank faces, they started mercilessly. When he watched Nick trying to get up again, desperately and one of the nurses pushed him back down, causing him to almost jerk off the stretcher, resulting in him being strapped down harder. That was when he looked at the BP-monitor and saw the stellar readings blinking in red.

That was enough for his hands to start trembling and his own breath to run uneven. Stuffing his hands deep into his pockets he looked around to see if anybody had noticed. Nick's mother and father stood by the door, eyes unblinking as they looked inside the brightly lit room. The tears that rolled down her pale face gave more nourishment to Warrick's tremor.

Brass and Grissom's faces were unreadable as they stood side by side, stern and serious. But their eyes were also locked in one direction only. Ecklie behind them, face actually showing concern, for another human being no less. A nurses-aid walked up to him and spoke quietly. Ecklie looked at her and threw a glance back at the entrance of the ER before he took one last look at Nick and walked away.


Warrick let his eyes roam to Sara and Greg, standing by the Plexiglas. Sara's hands resting on the surface, finger bent like claws. The tension in her was evident. And Greggo, face pale and arms crossed over his chest like he needed to physically hold himself together. When his jaw tightened Warrick looked back into the room.

Nick was being held down and the BP kept rising. Then the blinds were closed and shut them all out.

The silence was deafening.

His own breath didn't run even any longer. He felt like he was suffocating even if he was breathing fast, trying to stop the ringing in his ears, the nausea and his teeth from clattering. The tremors took hold of his diaphragm, making it even harder to control his bearing. He was afraid he'd whimper helplessly at any time now.

And he must have. Suddenly all eyes were on him. They all looked, scrutinizing him and he felt his shoulders start to tremble too.

“Warrick?” Cath's hand on his arm made him jerk.

He didn't even look at her before he stormed off, breaking out in cold sweat. His eyes fixed on a green light at the end of the corridor, he more stumbled than walked. Fumbling with the doorknob and cursing his own useless hands he finally managed to pull the door open. His damned legs weren't holding him up any longer, he saw the staircase and held onto the railing while he sank down onto it. By now his vision was dim and the ringing in his ears was constant. He wasn't able to breathe.

What's wrong with you, you moron, he berated himself. Get a grip already. This is ridiculous.

Closing his eyes he tried to recollect what was left of his bearing. As he did the pictures of Nick's desperation rolled mercilessly behind his eyelids. The screams, the pleads and the absolute terror.

A wave of nausea hit him with full force. He groaned and felt a hand land on his shoulder.

“Warrick?”

Cath. Of course. She saw everything, she easily put two and two together and may make it turn out twenty-two but was seldom wrong. She knew by now, of that he was sure. And she'd watch him fall apart. He was a strong man, he never fell apart like this. Nick might, but not he.


How wrong he had been about that. He'd often considered Nick soft, maybe too soft for the job. Nick would empathize with the victims, live through the pain and there was the risk it would cloud his judgement. He knew better now.

“Rick.”


Cath's voice was just as soft as when she spoke to Nicky in the ambulance. Her hand stroke his cheek and it wasn't before now he realized he was crying. Silently the tears rolled over the dirt on his cheeks and dropped onto his pants. Opening his eyes he watched them forming evidence of just how weak a man he really was. Nick had reason to cry, not he.

Get a fucking grip!

But he wasn't able to. When Cath sat down besides him on the stairs he started sobbing audibly. He wasn't even able to recall when he´d actually cried last. Now it was like a fucking floodgate. Right in front of Cath.

“You're hyperventilating.”

Like he didn't know, he was more than painfully aware of that. The pitiful sobs punctuated every damned shallow inhale and rushed exhale.

“Just hold your breath Rick, just hold it for a moment and it'll pass.”

He did as told but the sobs made it hard. The shame made it even harder. And the pictures behind his closed eyes made it impossible. Nick screaming, freaking out and raising the gun to end it.

Cath left and he hung on to the railing, feeling the need to bang his head hard against it to stop all this. End this ridiculous sobbing and stop the freaking movie inside his head.

Suddenly there was a bottle of water stuck under his nose.

“Drink.”

He hated when Cath went all mother-hen on him. She seldom did but right now he obliged and let the cool, pricey water rinse the salty taste out of his mouth and help suffocate the damned tears.

Then he sat there in silence, still trembling. The movie in his head repeating itself over and over, he didn't even have to close his eyes anymore to be assaulted by the visions. They came unbidden and mixed with new images. Nick on the stretcher, being held down with force. His eyes as they mirrored everything going on inside of him. Like they always did. One of the things he loved about Nick, those eyes telling the world that inside that clean-cut man was a fountain of emotions and reactions mixed with integrity and pride. A man to love. The man he loved. He didn't want to love him, he didn't have room for any puppy-eyed sweetness in his life, but goddamnit he couldn't help himself.

“I keep hearing him scream.” The words fell out of his mouth before he was able to stop them.

Cath put the hand back on his shoulder.

“I keep seeing him when I close my eyes. Jesus fucking Christ it won't stop!”

“Rick, he'll be fine eventually. It's Nicky we're talking about. He's magnet for trouble but he keeps coming back. He's stronger than what's on the surface. He'll pull trough. You saw that tonight, he wouldn't give up and that's what ultimately saved him.”

“I know.” Christ, now he's crying again. Head bent down he feels the tears roll down his cheek. Soon he'd be telling her how much he loves him too. That he's been wanting him for years and never done anything about it. And tonight he's realized it's just not attraction and need but fucking love.

“I love him too,” Cath spoke silently, “maybe just not the way you do.”

“I know.” Great, there it was, the confession. He could tell Cath what he couldn't even admit to himself. But it's true, what he felt for Nick Stokes was not brotherly love. He wanted Nicky Stokes, in every way possible and he was too chicken to tell him that. He didn't even care what Nick felt, all he knew was that he needed to tell him, somehow. Maybe not with words, he was a disaster with words. But somehow he needed to let the man know.

The door to the emergency exit opened and Sara's voice carried through to him. “You all right? You've been sitting here for hours, they're moving him to the ICU. Nick's asking for you Warrick so they told me to come get you. It's limited visitations as for now, he's still shaky but he's doing better, Griss told me. His parents had to go back to the Hotel. His mother kept crying and Nick was getting too upset by it. ”

He grunted in response to Sara's babble.

Cath took his hand and pulled at it. “Com'on, you need to see him to get all those pictures out of your head.”

The mother-hen was awake again but he followed. Not even minding Sara's expression when she spotted his tear-stricken face. Cath suggested he'd go rinse off his face but he shot her one of his more deadly glares. He'd had enough mother-henning to last him a life-time tonight. Soon she'd be asking him to go potty before visiting Nick too.

Sara took the lead and he followed trough winding corridors, noticing that it indeed was light outside and they probably had been sitting in the stairway for hours. He merely nodded as they passed the room where Griss and Greg sat perched at the end of their seats and stopped at a sharply lit atrium filled with beeps and windows.

A nurse looked at them as they traversed the floor and Sara stopped by her side.

“Only one visitor and 5 minutes,” the nurse ordered.

“He's been asking for Warrick,” Cath explained and filed in after him.

He didn't even register the beeps and the machinery Nick was hooked up to, all he saw was the pale face and the eyelids fluttering nervously and opening when Cath closed the door behind them.

“Nicky,” the word leapt out of him like a prayer.

There were still remnants of terror in his eyes and he made a sound.

“I'm here, Nicky, I gotcha.”

Without thinking he took the hand stretched out to him. His own tremor subsiding as he felt Nick's hand clasping his.

Truth be told, it was Nicky that had him.

Cath walked up, dragging a plastic chair from the other side of the room with her. Placing it directly under his butt. If his eyes hadn't been fixed on Nick's he would have bestowed her with another glare.

She laid a hand on Nick's chest and looked long and hard before smiling with trembling lips. “I'll leave you two alone,” she said, “see you tomorrow Nicky, try and get some rest.” Her voice was all tight and she turned around to walk out.

Nick tried to speak but didn't quite manage to get the words out.

“It's all right, you don't have to say anything,” Warrick hurried to tell him as Cath closed the door. “Don't need to say a word Nicky, just get some rest man.”

Nick's eyes were fixed on his and Warrick almost felt the effort it took for him to get the whispered 'Thank you' out.

And he was tearing up again. “No need Nicky, no need.” His voice broke and he closed his eyes, holding onto the hand for all he was worth.

The door opened again a voice called for his attention. “Sir, you better leave and give him some rest.”

“No!” Nick croaked in his panicky voice.

That was all it took. Warrick looked at the nurse by the door and shook his head. “I'm not leaving him.” He turned his eyes back at Nick and sank to the stool. “I'm not leaving you Nicky,” he said through tears.

He held onto the hand and placed his free one on the heaving chest. “I gotcha man and I'm not letting go.”

Nick's eyes searched for his and he visibly relaxed at the promise. Warrick's head sank to rest up against the shivering shoulder and Nick finally calmed down while Warrick breathed in the scent he'd been dreaming of for so long. Soap and enigma, that was what Nick was to him and some day he hoped the enigma would unravel. Nick rested his head up against his and his breaths evened out to calm, deep inhales and exhales. The grip on his hand wasn't full of fear any longer and Warrick realized he was finally falling asleep. Finally finding some peace.

He himself started fucking crying again. Anyone passing would see him sobbing onto the other man's shoulder. And he didn't care because Nick's sleep was calm and his hand fit perfectly in his own.

Title:Watching
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Grave Danger
Characters: Nick/ Warrick's POV
Category: Angst, pre-slash and h/c
Summary: Warrick is watching and trying to deal.
Author's Note: My first fic ever out-right slash in the CSI-fandom.
Disclaimer: Me own zip and nada, ‘cept an overactive imagination. No ingringeent of copyright intended.

He always found himself watching.

Like now, sitting here in the wee hours of the morning and waiting for Nick to wake up from his drug-induced sleep. At least now he had a reason to watch, no one would blame him for watching Nicky tonight. No one would wonder.

He still flinched every time Nick shuddered in his sleep, knowing that not even the heavy sedation was keeping the nightmares away. It tore at his heart and tied his guts into a knot of sorrow when Nick almost arched off the bed in a fit of blind fear. Wiping away the sweat forming on Nick's brow he mumbled: "it's all right man, it's only a nightmare. I'm here, Nicky."

He was visited by them too, every time he'd closed his eyes during the two days since Nick's rescue he'd wake up to his own screams, bathed in a cold sweat, hands shivering. He would bury his face into clammy palms barely recognizable as his own, trying to will the panic away. The only respite was to head back to the hospital and tell whoever was scheduled to keep Nick company that it was okay to leave. Greg hadn't budged last night; he hadn't been able to touch Nick the way he wanted and it nearly killed him. He needed to feel Nick's heart beating, his pulse, his veins relaxing and Nick's hand resting in his with ease. It was pure hell to leave him to his parents care during the day because every time Warrick drifted off to sleep he was assaulted by the nightmares.

The dreams always ended the same way; he was standing there looking at Nick dead and beyond saving. He'd reach out and Nick would already be cold. That's when he started to scream and the screams would turn into Nick's panicked voice as he left him alone in the coffin. Left the goddamned lid and stepped away. He didn't think he'd ever get over that sound of sheer terror he heard as Nick forced his name from his throat as Warrick up and left. It wasn't just the sound of terror that got to Warrick, but the sense of absolute abandon.

Then, standing there, watching helplessly as Grissom tried to get through to Nicky when all he wanted to do was reach down, jerk him out of the coffin and never let go. The face of a man thinking he had been deserted when he was at the end of his sanity was a betrayal he hadn't thought himself capable of. He knew it was the right thing to do, his logic told him that but his mind wasn't capable of logic or reason when it came to Nick. It was a myriad of emotions emerging to the surface the moment he saw Nick in that box, saw him struggle and fight the demons of fear, panic, hope and finally hopeless resignation to death. To let his mind wander to where Nick's had been was too much, he couldn't even try and put himself in Nick's place. It was utterly unbearable because he knew Nick would not have stepped off that lid, he just wouldn't. Would he ever be forgiven for stepping out of sight, for leaving Nick alone again? He hadn't been able to forgive himself and the dreams were a constant reminder of his betrayal. Dreams where he found the box too late, where he heard Nick's screams and dug and dug without getting anywhere, dreams where he found Nick but always too late. He'd grown wary of closing his eyes, it always meant losing Nicky in one way or another.

It was silly, he thought, as he sat by the hospital bed and rested his hand on Nick's chest. It wasn't like he had Nick anyway. He'd done his damnedest to cover his feelings with wild tales of the women he was dating, trying to be the manliest man possible – all while his eyes strayed to the grin on the Texan's face. The wrinkles around his eyes, the laugh and the lanky body so full of life that his fingers ached from the need to touch him.

Sometimes he'd even be jealous of the charm Nick shared so freely, the jovial grin and the warmth in his eyes. It made him hard to read, was he flirting or was that just who Nick was? Warrick had stopped counting the times he'd felt the need to corner him and touch him, run a hand down the strong back and pull Nick to his chest and kiss him senseless. How many times had he sat beside him in the Denali and watched those strong hands grip the steering wheel and wondered how they would feel on him? Only to have to look away abruptly as Nick's amused eyes glittered in his direction? How often had he listened to his voice without hearing the actual words, just wondering how he would sound when on the edge of bliss? Would he slip into that Texan drawl in the midst of arousal? Would he groan Warrick's name when he let go?

This was what he was thinking about his colleague, a man that blushed when any form of alternative sexuality was mentioned. Warrick sighed, he knew he was already lost and admitting that was hard, but watching Nick like this was even harder. He seemed so defenseless and all Warrick wanted to do was curl up around him, hold him close and whisper loving nonsense ‘til he'd lean in and melt into his arms. Skin melting against skin, breath mingling ….

He shook his head, now was no time to be thinking about that. This wasn't about his needs, it was about chasing the fear from Nicky's eyes, stilling the slight trembling of his hands and wiping away the sweat that still trickled down his brow even as he slept.

With his thumb he wiped it away, feeling the heat of Nicky's skin, fearing he had developed a fever and laid his palm on the sweaty forehead, careful not to wake him. It was still early and he needed his sleep but he didn't seem calm any longer, his chest was rising at too fast a pace, fingers digging into the sheet and shoulders tensing.

"Nicky," he whispered, "it's okay, you're having a nightmare. It's okay man, I'm here, you're safe."

Nick's hands gripped the edge of the bed as he strained towards a sitting position, still half asleep.

"Hey," Warrick crooned, "it's all right, you're in the hospital, you're just having a nightmare Nicky, it's all right. Just don't pull the I.V. out again, you've done that twice already."

Nick slowly surfaced from the terror and Warrick smiled reassuringly at the bleary eyes searching his. "It's okay man, it's just a dream."

Nick fell back and let out a ragged breath.

"Bad, huh?" Warrick asked, hand cupping Nick's clenched fist, stroking it with his thumb until it let go of the sheet.

"I'm making a fool of myself aren't I?" Nick let out with a shaky breath after a while, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "I'm scaring the shit outta everyone."

"Hey," Warrick's eyes narrowed at the sight of increasing tension in his shoulders, "Nicky, what the hell are you thinking?"

Nick covered his eyes with his hand, his breaths becoming short and pained.

"Nicky, look at me man," Warrick begged, "what the fuck are you sayin'? Of course you're gonna have nightmares, you went through hell but you're safe now. Be as crazy as you need to, Nicky, just don't go blaming yourself for anything or disappearing on me."

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to."

The barely audible voice broke in mid sentence and Warrick's heart dropped a thousand miles. Wasn't it just like Nick to go blaming himself for making them feel bad?

Without thinking he seated himself on the edge of the bed, pulling Nick into his arms, resting the man's head on his shoulder, caressing the short hair and not giving a damn about anything else other than helping Nick fight his demons. "Fuck Nicky, don't worry about us right now, you have enough to handle all on your own. We're all fine and you will be too, with time man, I promise."

Nick's short and forced breathing turned into sobs and his fingers dug into Warrick's arm. He held on, rocking Nick slowly and mumbling nonsense to him. "It's gonna be all right Nicky, eventually it will all be fine." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Nicky or himself, but it didn't matter right now. Holding Nick felt right, no matter the circumstances, holding him felt like being home, like belonging. It wasn't right to lay this on a shell-shocked man, not now. Someday he'd have to tell him otherwise he'd explode.

"Shit, Rick," Nick spoke with his still hoarse voice, "I'm so spooked all the time. I'm scared of being alone, scared of opening my eyes, scared of closing them, scared of silence and I don't know how - " his voice broke again and Warrick rested his cheek on the short hair, pulling him even closer.

"I don't know how I'm gonna handle being alone."

"You're not alone Nicky," Warrick cursed his own breaking voice and the tears dwelling in his eyes, "I'm not leaving you alone ever again, Nicky. As long as you want me, as long as you need me, you have me Nicky. Me or Catherine or anyone you need. You won't ever be alone Nick, I promise you."

"Yeah?" Nick let out a short sound between laughter and a sob, "Tina's gonna love you baby-sitting your colleague."

Warrick pulled back and searched Nick's eyes. Fuck, he always came undone when Nick looked at him. From the first day they had met, he'd dissolve into a million needy pieces every time Nick looked at him. Today it was worse than ever. There was a shadow lurking in the corner of his eyes, a darkness deeper than Warrick ever remembered seeing and he had to look away and pull Nick back into his arms.

"Forget Tina," he mumbled, "forget about every body else and concentrate on you. That's what you need to do Nicky. Tina walked, she didn't like the copologist in me. To tell you the truth, I don't care."

He heard a rumble against his shirt, a soft negation, so like Nick. Who was it that had turned up when he almost fell off the wagon after Lily? Nick. Who always had a soft smile and an encouraging word for everybody if not Nick. It was time he was paid back, with interest.

"Nick, I owe you man, you know that. Don't push me away now, please."

But he did, softly he freed himself from Warrick's hold and looked at him with puzzled eyes.

"You owe me? What? I've turned into a charity case all of a sudden?"

Those eyes bore holes in him, like they always did.

"Hey, lie down will you," Warrick's hand gently pushed him down against the pillow, staying to rest over the beating heart, tuned to every shift in Nick. "You know that's not what I mean and I'm not getting into that right now, man."

Nick's eyes were fixed on him and there was nowhere to run, no flippant words to counteract what Nick must be reading loud and clear, there was nothing but his raw emotions laid out for Nick to see, to accept or refuse. It wasn't fair, not right now but he was unable to hide any longer

He had to look away, guilt rising as his own emotions suddenly flooded the room. What kind of a man would lay this on another when he'd been as close to death as anyone could possibly be? Fuck, what was he doing? Nick needed rest and balance, not a love-sick liar at his side. That was the ultimate betrayal, this ever selfish want and need.

"Nicky, look –" He couldn't find the words and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the headache was back.

"Warrick, you look like hell. When did you last sleep?"

He shouldn't be surprised, not really. After all, this was part of what he loved about Nick Stokes, maybe because they were so different. Nick cared with his whole heart, Warrick didn't quite understand how but he always did. Even now, drugged and with fear still lingering in his entire being Nick saw right through him, to the very bottom of his soul and read him clear as day.

"I sleep," he mumbled, casting a furtive glance at the man whose heart was beating faster under his palm.

"The hell you do," Nick said and moved his hand to lay over Warrick's. "Headache?"

The hand over his own made Warrick's heart beat speed up and he was sure Nick could sense the slight tremble in his at the contact. He should pull away and put himself back together before the man on the bed had him totally undone.

"Nicky."

"I hear you."

Something in his voice said it all and Warrick finally dared to meet his eyes.

"I left Texas, didn't I?" Nick's pupils were too big and his eyes shiny but the small smile was like an ointment that soothed every ill and the hand on his was warm and secure as Nick's fingers snuck in between his own.

Warrick blinked, unsure if he was going to laugh or cry in relief.

"How long have you known?" he asked, cursing himself for the quaver in his voice while letting his gaze wander the floor to avoid those sharp eyes that saw every little silly dream, wish and dirty thought.

"No man brags about his conquests as often as you do if they aren't trying to hide something."

Warrick felt his damned cheeks warm. Leave it to Nick to pick up these things, the one person that the entire charade was orchestrated for. Fuck, this was so not how he had envisioned this visit. He was supposed to be the strong and capable one, he was here to bring ease, not to have his emotions stripped naked.

"Damn," was all he could muster as his mouth stretched in a silly grin.

"Surprised?"

"Speechless," Warrick admitted and looked back at the adorable man in the bed. A man whose eyes were now almost completely closed and the weariness was evident even in the hand clasping his.

"Get some sleep, Nicky." He reached out to smooth away the creases in the furrowed brow. "No need to stay awake right now, we have all the time in the world when you get outta here."

Nick opened his eyes as fear flashed over his features and sent daggers through Warrick's guts.

"I know" he nodded, "fuck Nicky, I know." He let his hand slide to rest on the pillow, cupping Nick's cheek, thumb circling slowly on Nick's temple where a vein was throbbing furiously. " I've gotcha Nicky and I'm never letting go."

A small trembling smile at the corner of Nick's lips, a heavy sigh and eyes finally closing completely in sleep was his reply.

He remained sitting there, watching Nick drift into sleep, breaths evening out and deepening, the pulse under his thumb and palm finally settling to a more peaceful pace. Nick's hand finally relaxing on his and he leaned forward to place a chaste, barely noticable kiss on the chapped lips.

Then he sat, feeling totally content for the first time in as long as he could remember.

Watching.

Title:Shower of Tears
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Grave Danger
Characters: Nick/ Warrick, Grissom co-starring
Category: Angst, romance (slash) and h/c
Summary: Warrick falls apart and is picked up again.
Author's Note: 3rd in Revelations
Disclaimer: Me own zip and nada, ‘cept an overactive imagination. No ingringeent of copyright intended.

He felt like a fucking moron, sitting in his SUV and watching. Always watching. Like a hawk, waiting for Gil to leave Nick's house.

Gil had looked at him rather strangely at the growl Warrick had been unable to hide on hearing that Gil Grissom would be taking Nick home. To hell with Gil's explanation that it was his job, Warrick didn't buy that for a second. It wasn't jealousy, or at least that was what he had tried to tell himself all the way from the hospital. Of course he had followed Gil's car at a safe distance, trying to remain unobserved. That was 3 hours ago and he was still sitting here, gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline, his eyes glued to Nick's front door.

It was too soon, only a week since that damned night, the night that still gave him nightmares on a regular basis. If he was having nightmares that left him breathless, what was it doing to Nicky? It was too early, far too early for Nick to leave the hospital, was he the only one who understood that? Nick needed constant attendance, why didn't they understand? He had told the nurse preparing Nick's discharge papers off. Loud and clear. They were still pumping enormous amounts of antibiotics into him and he was still sleeping thanks to sedatives. Why'd they go and listen to Nicky anyway? They should be immune to begging puppy eyes, shouldn't they? After all, they were supposed to be professionals and not listen to pleas for release. Goddammit, Nicky needed to be taken care of. By him, he didn't trust anybody else to see the small signs he picked up on in an instant. That small shiver of his voice, the tic at the corner of his left eye, that was a new one and sure as hell he'd go all tense and twitchy a moment after it appeared. Only he saw all those signs, not the doctor or the nurses, not even Gil, only him. Maybe that was why he was sitting here hanging on to the steering wheel. Fuck, Nicky was wreaking havoc with his composure; he was yelling at people, kicking at chairs in the waiting room and glaring. Jesus, even Cath had told him to simmer down.

But how the hell was he supposed to simmer down when Nick stiffened and his breath hitched while gripping a drinking glass? When he occasionally seemed to drift off and stare into a void, his jaw tensing and fingers bending into claws? When a sudden sound could force sweat to bead on his temples? For fuck's sake, were they blind? He banged the steering wheel hard with his fist, cursing out loud in his increasing worry. He was debating with himself, should he stroll in to Nick house looking all casual and just wait Gil out? Gil was already eyeing him suspiciously and he didn't believe he would pull casual off. Not right now when all he wanted to do was run in, shove Griss to the side, throw his arms around Nick and just hold on for dear life. Casual was definitely out of the question. In fact, he was starting to worry someone would call the cops, who in their right mind would be sitting in their SUV for hours, staring at a door? If it were anybody else staring at Nick's door he'd have called the cops hours ago. Just another sign that Nick wasn't safe and nobody picked up on it. Anything could happen and nobody seemed to notice. Warrick groaned out loud at the realization.

He jumped when Nick's door finally opened and Gil stepped out. Holding his breath his eyes followed the man leisurely walking to his car. Was he crazy? Leaving Nick alone already? As soon as Gil drove off Warrick leapt out of his car and ran across the street to Nick's door. Raising his hand to knock he found himself eye to eye with Nick.

Nick looked tired and Warrick had to stop himself from reaching out to grip his arm, steer him to the sofa, pull out a blanket and bed him down. But he saw no signs of panic and he was finally able to breathe a little easier.

"I was wondering when you'd find your way outta the car," Nick said with a small grin and moved to let Warrick inside. "Even ordered you a pizza, all the fixings, right? Should be here in about 10."

Warrick was again left speechless. It was becoming a habit with him as of lately and it was disturbing, to put it mildly.

He re-arranged his face to a less surprised expression and walked in. "You all right? You really should be resting you know." Too late he realized that even though he had his face in neutral mode, his voice wasn't. Too tense, close to accusatory. "Griss left?" He added in tone that hopefully matched his face.

"Only to pick up some groceries," Nick replied. "You all right Rick? You look about to keel over if you ask me. When did you last sleep?"

"You could have asked me," Warrick interrupted, walking into the living room, careful to keep his back to Nick.

"Asked you what?"

"To pick up the groceries."

"Hard to talk to a man hiding in his car."

Warrick smirked, Nick wasn't letting go of this one. He stole a furtive glance over his shoulder at the man following him. "You have everything you need Nicky? Prescriptions? Coffee? Anything you need, tell me."

"Gil's picking everything up so do me a favour and sit down." Nick gestured in the direction of the sofa. "You want a beer? I think that's the only thing in the fridge that hasn't turned green by now."

"Sure." He did as asked, seating himself on the edge of the sofa so he could watch Nick walking into the kitchen and pulling a bottle out of the fridge. Just as he had predicted, Nicky froze up and shuddered visibly at the sensation of glass in his hand. He'd seen it happen at the hospital too, every time Nick touched glass of any kind it made him flinch and tense up immediately. Still he kept forcing himself to touch, grip a drinking glass tight even though his hands shook uncontrollably and his jaws clenched while his breath hitched and sweat trickled down his temples. Or let his fingertips run briefly over the window and try to hide the shiver that ran through him. Nick's self imposed torture was touching glass. And every time he'd get that look, like he was being pulled into a maelstrom of emotions, threatening to suffocate him. Now his breath ran faster and he set the bottle down on the table, unable to carry it the brief distance between the fridge and the sofa. He was staring at it, leaving his hands to rest on the table on either side of the bottle . Bent slightly over the table he fought to get his breathing under control. Fingers clenched and knuckles whitening.

"Nicky?" Warrick rose and walked over, placing a hand on the shivering shoulder. "Don't do this to yourself. Give it some time."

Nick was still staring at the bottle, chest heaving and shivers wracking his entire body.

"Fuck Nicky," Warrick gathered him into his arms and turned him away from the bottle that seemed to have consumed his focus. "Stop hurting yourself like this, Nicky just stop, please."

He cupped his hand over Nick's tense neck, sensing the pulse throbbing wildly against his fingertips. Pulling Nick's head onto his shoulder he closed his eyes, fighting his own damned tears. Nick's hair tickled his cheek and the forced breaths were hot in the crook of his neck. He felt moisture against his neck and Nick let out a suffocated sob. Warrick didn't say a word, he just held on until the shivers ebbed and the trembling subsided. The door bell rang once but Warrick didn't move, not until the fourth ring when Nick freed himself and mumbled that it was probably the pizza. Reluctantly, Warrick let go and pulled out a chair, ordering Nick to sit down. He never took his eyes off Nick as he walked to the door, took the boxes and paid the man clad in striped pants and a baseball cap. Not once did his eyes stray off the man at the kitchen table, wiping his face with his sleeve.

He put the pizza boxes on the table, taking the bottle and placing it on the counter, out of sight, before he got silverware and paper towels out. Knowing Nick, he hadn't asked Gil to get him paper or plastic throwaway cups. Nick was determined to get over it in his own headstrong way, and he was losing big this time.

The door opened and Warrick was startled to notice that Grissom walked in, unannounced, like he belonged. His heart dropped when he saw Gil place Nick's keys besides the phone, like it was an old habit for Gil to walk in and out of Nick's house. Gil must have caught both his astonishment and Nicky's desolation because he shot Warrick a quizzical glance. A glance that Warrick chose to ignore totally.

"I put your keys by the phone Nicky," Grissom spoke softly. "Sorry it took me so long, there was a line at the pharmacist."

"Thanks," was all Nick managed, his hands still trembling slightly.

Gil looked at Warrick again, his eyes more inquisitive than ever.

"You need to eat man," Warrick said, "that hospital food can ki.. make anybody sick."

Grissom was already putting the groceries into the fridge and stopped momentarily to dig into the bag. "I picked up those throw away plates and utensils, cups and everything you need to entertain. I guess you're going to have a lot of visitors and it'll just be easier."

A bag of blue paper cups landed on the kitchen table and at that moment Warrick could have kissed Gil Grissom. Of course Gil had noticed, Gil noticed everything.

But so did Nick.

Warrick watched his eyes dart between the two of them, an expression of total defeat settling on his face. He rubbed his forehead and looked away, studying the floor in an attempt to hide the pain that flashed in the dark eyes. Nick knew that they knew and it was killing him. Hell, there was no way to get through this without bumping into mundane situations that would hurt Nick in one way or another. All he wanted to do right now was pull Nick up from that chair and hold him again, tell him to forget being brave and stoic for a moment and just fucking breathe.

Gil beat him to it, he filled one of the cups with orange juice and placed it under Nick's nose.

"You need to drink something before you take your medication or it'll knock you off your feet." He placed the meds within Nick's reach and turned away to put the last items into the fridge.

It gave Nick something to do and broke the awkward tension. He was almost back to normal when Gil pulled out a chair and checked the pizza boxes in search of his order.

They ate in silence, Warrick still watching Nick. He didn't even finish the entire pizza. The antibiotics made him nauseous and he had already lost a few pounds. With half of the pizza left Nick looked like he was ready to throw up.

Warrick was instantly on his feet, taking the box and stuffing it in the fridge. He felt Gil's knowing eyes on him, not puzzled any longer. But he didn't care. Why he ever had he didn't understand, not now when he turned around and found Nick smiling at him. A small and grateful smile, like he had just saved his life.

"Shouldn't you be going Gil? I thought you said you had a meeting with Ecklie tonight." he asked without looking at the man in question.

"I gather there's no need for Catherine to come over?" Gil's voice was steady and calm, laying out the fact camouflaged as a question.

"No." Warrick's eyes never left Nick's and the smile that Nick gave him had his heart melting into a puddle of helpless surrender.

They spent hours sitting on the sofa, sipping orange juice and watching Discovery Channel. Warrick was feeling his limbs getting heavier by the minute, sleep threatening to overtake him totally. But he wouldn't let that happen, he was here for Nick's sake and Nick needed watching. He would not sleep. Not until Nick slept in peace, without any twitches and turns, without the ever present looming darkness he still spotted lurking in Nick's eyes. When Nick slept peacefully, then he'd finally close his eyes and pray that the nightmares would leave both of them alone.

But it was hard to stay awake; he sat so close to Nick that he could feel every breath the man took.

Every move he made as he stretched his legs in front of him and sank deeper into the cushions. But Warrick wasn't sure if this peace he felt was real or if Nick was trying to fool him yet again. He was drifting in the shadow land between sleep and wakefulness when Nick put a hand on his knee before he rose. "I'm taking a shower. I trust you can find the way to the bed by yourself, am I right? If not, I'll come get you."

Too tired to react he kept his eyes shut and merely listened when the shower was turned on, the sound of water running lulling him further into the alluring veils of sleep - but there was something nagging in the back of his mind, something so strong that he finally opened his eyes. Bed and Nick? Would he be able to survive that without a major meltdown of some sort?

His eyes were drawn to the open bathroom door, was that an invitation? Then he remembered; Nick's shower was a cubicle. A small square of perfectly claustrophobic plastic and tile walls and Nick was in there all alone.

"Shit," he cursed and leapt in the direction of the open door. The water was still running and he peeked inside, just to assure himself everything was all right. The sight that met him had his heart throbbing in his throat, ready to explode. Nick was standing very still in the running water, face hidden in his palms.

He didn't actually think, with two strides he was under the water, turning Nick around and pulling him into an embrace. "It's all right Nicky, it's all right," he mumbled into his ear, stroking the wet hair and rocking him slowly. "Breathe baby, breathe."

"Huh?"

Nick freed himself and looked rather startled. "Rick, you all right?"

Warrick was speechless again.

"Got shampoo in my eyes," Nick mumbled and rubbed his left eye. "Shouldn't you take your clothes off if you wanna shower?"

Warrick froze, feeling like the perfect fool. Fully clad and the hot water pelting down hard on him. Heart still beating in a panicked pace, breath running ragged.

Nick reached up and stroked Warrick's cheek with his thumb languidly. "God. You're a mess Rick." Pulling his face down Nick reached up to place a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

Why Warrick started crying then he didn't quite understand. Last he remembered actually crying was in third grade when he got beat up by a couple of seventh graders. Even then he had hid in the toilet for hours not to let anybody see the shameful tears. Now tears mingled with the water and he sobbed helplessly as Nick's fingers opened the buttons of his shirt, peeled it off him and dropped it to the floor outside the shower. Nick said nothing, just undressed him completely while Warrick cried silently, mumbling that he should be the one taking care of Nick between sobs.

And all of a sudden Warrick knew why he was crying. This wasn't just sex, it was love. A love he hadn't even known he was capable of, a love that was almost painful in its intensity. He reached for Nick, pulling him yet again into his embrace. Tracing his lips down the strong neck, fingers following the lines of strong arms. What Warrick really wanted was to reach right into Nick's heart, curl up and live forever between the beats. Stay there, floating through his veins and keeping him safe, always. But his hands couldn't stop wandering all over the body pressed to his.

"I didn't want you to see me like this," Nick mumbled into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Shut up," Warrick replied softly, "shut up and kiss me, fool. You've never been more beautiful, never."

Nick actually chuckled and lips devoured his, a softness in the kiss that had Warrick's ears humming

Then it deepened and Warrick stopped breathing. When Nick broke the kiss Warrick opened his eyes, gazing into the warmth in Nick's as he felt hands stroking his chest teasing a pattern of feathery caresses down his abdomen. Then a hand closed over his erection and he moaned. Nick leaned him up against the tile wall and pressed his lips to the nipple aching for attention.

"Nicky, no," Warrick pleaded, he should be the one to be the one setting the pace, the one being there to care and offer support. And for the first time in his life he knew he wanted to be taken by a man. He needed Nicky sheathed inside of him, taking him to the brink and pushing him over.

"Why not Rick?" Nick whispered in his ear while his hands fondled the straining erection.

All the reply Warrick could give was a groan from deep in his throat. Nicky's hands were masterful, knowing all the right spots, intuitively finding the right pressure and pace of the strokes. By now Warrick was moaning loudly, head tilted back and hips meeting Nick's strokes, faster and faster with an abandon that made his breath hitch. When Nick's lips suckled an erect nipple Warrick helplessly let go, his knees buckling from the force of the orgasm as he gasped for air and trembled in Nick's arms. Lights flashed behind his closed eyelids, the scent of Nick invading his shivering form, exploding into his consciousness like tantalizing fireworks, opening the floodgates and all his tension flooded out of him in a tidal wave to land on Nick's abdomen and chest.

His rested his head on Nick's shoulder, breathing raggedly with tears again pooling in his eyes. God, how he loved this man holding him steady and waiting for him to come down to earth again.

"Nicky, Nicky, Nicky," Warrick mumbled into the steady shoulder."What are you doing to me?"

"You're such a mess man," Nick spoke tenderly, water running down his face like tears when he lifted Warrick's face into his hands and looked long and hard with growing concern. "You need some sleep Warr', let's go to bed. We'll sleep, Rick, and tomorrow everything will be better."

"Tomorrow."

Warrick tasted the word like it was brand new and full of promise. Coming from Nick it sounded the closest to paradise he'd ever come.

He cupped Nick's face in his hands and kissed him, a kiss as full of promise and hope as the word tomorrow. He'd be happy as long as he had Nick by his side today, tomorrow and every day . That was all he really asked for, Nick warm, breathing and alive. Nick in all his tomorrows.

He lay in bed with Nick sprawled partly over him, holding Nick's hand as it lay quietly without shaking, listening Nick's even breaths as he slept peacefully.

Tomorrow he'd tell Nicky he loved him.

Title: Illusion of Normalcy
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Grave Danger
Characters: Nick/ Warrick
Category: Angst, slash and h/c
Summary: Nick has one of his darkest days.
Warning: Dark thoughts (suicide).
Disclaimer: Me own zip and nada, ‘cept an overactive imagination. No ingringeent of copyright intended.

It happened months later.

Long months passed when on the surface everything slowly went back to normal, Nick seemed to cope astoundingly well after what he had been through. A little too well, I sometimes thought. It could only mean one thing, he was keeping it all inside again. He does that, hides everything and won't let it out. I know he still has nightmares, he doesn't wake up screaming anymore but in cold sweat. He brushes it off and won't talk to me. The silence scares me.

They allowed Nick back to work after a mere 6 weeks. He was restricted to lab duty for a month. Then they let him out in the field, he said he wanted to. I didn't think it was wise but Nick has this ability to get people to give in when he smiles and assures everyone he's just fine.

He doesn't fool me.

And God was he pissed at me when I tagged along, barely one step behind him. This robbery seemed nothing out of the ordinary, nothing except glass counters and fluorescent lights to set him off. That I know of anyway, Nick isn't very talkative on that subject. There were more things that bothered me in fact. A shadow behind a door, shattered glass on the floor, hell, even seeing Nick in his vest made me jumpy. Plus, the crunching sound when we walked into the warehouse and there were people walking too close to Nicky for my liking. I've started to think it was really me that triggered the explosion. It was dark and rainy and I was scared shitless for some reason and Nicky probably picked it up. I tried some feeble banter like in old times but Nick didn't answer.

That was the first sign.

We processed the crime scene in silence, it was hard to talk while taking pictures and keeping an eye on your partner dusting for fingerprints at the same time, while trying not to walk in the DB's brain-matter. In my head I kept seeing Nick raise the gun to his chin. I wouldn't let Nick near the DB; that pissed him off too.

I think it slowly built up for Nick during the night. I wasn't any help. In retrospect I was probably the one to tip the scales. The DB's brain splattered all over the floor and the glass counter, the fluorescent lights flickering on and off thanks to the storm outside. The DB's wife's hysterical voice in the backroom where officers were trying to keep her calm because she wouldn't leave without her husband and processing the victim took far too long because of the state he was in. Hell, it got to me.

Nick got quieter and quieter as the night passed. His jaw clenched harder and harder but he did his job efficiently. I told him I needed a break when I was done documenting and the DB was wheeled out. Nick said nothing, just continued to dust the fucking glass counter in search of prints. Then he marked and gathered the shells the perp had left behind when he fled. I must confess I didn't do much, I was too preoccupied with watching Nick.

Big mistake.

He took the wife's prints. The woman clung to him and he talked softly to her. He is so good with people I can't understand why he isn't as good to himself? The woman was clearly calmed by his attention and when he left her side she fell apart. Screaming about why she wasn't the one dead. Nick's face got more and more strained and his shoulders tensed even tighter. I saw his knuckles whitening as the vic's wife was put on a gurney and wheeled out to the ambulance, half out of her mind with grief. I could see the dark cloud forming around him. I should have said something, I should have acted earlier. But I didn't, there was something about Nick that night that held even me at bay.

Then the shit hit the fan on our way back to the lab.

He looks at me with pity in his eyes these days. I hate that, I hate it with every fiber of my being. I hadn't expected it from him, from anybody else yes, but not from him. It unnerved me and it pissed me off. At the crime scene he tried to shield me from the sight of the victim's exploded skull. I wanted to remind him that it had been me with the gun under my chin and I had a pretty good idea of the result. I knew them down in that box, I knew and still I considered doing it. So why would I have to be shielded from it? It wasn't like it was the first time I'd seen it. Hell, I had almost done it to myself.

And the glass, that's the most stupid thing of all; I hate touching glass and Warrick knows. He gets this look and I try to hide the shivers. I've never been good at hiding my emotions; I'm like an open book. I hate that but I hate myself for falling apart when I touch glass even more. It doesn't happen all the time, happens less and less as a matter of fact but it still happens. I'm a freak, I could get rich selling tickets to the "wuss-man and glass show". I just have to come up with a better name and I can take it on the road.

But I really don't have any idea why I fell apart that night, and that is probably the worst of it. I have no control over it, have no idea when that abyss will open and I will be drawn in. When that happens it all comes rolling back, the lack of air, the sensation of something crawling over my skin and the loneliness. I know now that hell is loneliness. You can be surrounded by people watching you closely but you're still all alone. Nobody can hear the screams in your head.

When the screams get too loud I want to kill myself. I'm not afraid of anything after death, it's dying itself I fear. So I think about the millisecond when I pull the trigger, that holds an eternity in it. There will be pain however fast it happens, I know. So that time, between the pull of the trigger and when it finally ends is all, that makes me hesitate.

The screams started when the vic's wife lost it. When I took her fingerprints she looked at me and my nerves got all tangled up and everything rose to the surface. She needed something. Something I didn't have. All of a sudden I pictured her in a coffin of grief so thick she couldn't get out and nobody knew that she was in there under a cover of blackness so thick it was suffocating her.

I know the screams and visions are all in my head, I know it but my body doesn't, it takes over and I can't stop what's happening. The choking feeling that rips me apart and the sensation of an imminent explosion is something I can't handle.

I hate myself for that.

We were on our way back to the lab and I was driving with just one eye on the road ahead. A fucking lunatic swerved into the lane right in front of us and I had to slam the brakes hard enough to send the Denali across the road and Nick hit his head on the side window. The lights of the oncoming traffic blinded me for a moment and Nick's breath audibly hitched and he let out a sound like a wounded animal. My fucking heart had already stopped by then and Nick had to brace himself against the windshield. By the time I got the car under control and pulled onto the left shoulder, it was too late.

Nick was out of the car before I had time to stop him. He stepped right out into the lane; a car honked and the sound of brakes squealing made my mouth go dry.

I screamed his name.

He didn't answer and I imagined him splattered all over the asphalt while I leapt out of the car, I think I was actually praying. The lights of the cars illuminated the dark road only dimly and the rain didn't make spotting him any easier, curled up by the front wheel. He was close to catatonic. His body tense like a wire, his breathing so fast and shallow I knew he'd pass out if the didn't stop hyperventilating.

Cars stopped and people asked what had happened. I didn't have time to respond because Nick was drifting away. All I could do was sit beside him and pull him into my lap. He made that sound again, a dreadful moan and tried to claw his way out of my arms. He clawed his nails against the asphalt in his desperation as I tried to talk to him. I shushed him but he somehow seemed to sense the circle of curious spectators forming around us and wailed in pain as I was forced to press him down to the asphalt. Nick's incredibly strong when he sets his mind to it and I had no way of holding him for long with just my arms.

Jesus, I hated myself, my body pressing Nick into the wet asphalt, managing only to slide a hand between his cheek and the wetness that soaked him in a matter of seconds. I saw blood from his fingers swirl in the water that pooled around his face when the light of a passing car swept over us. For a moment I was afraid I'd drown him. But I never stopped talking to him although I have no idea what I babbled. It was only when a flashlight caught my face and I heard D.A.'s voice asking what was happening that I stopped long enough to tell him to get people away from us and call Cath or Grissom. I hated D.A. at that moment too, he should fucking know what was going on. This was his doing and it served him right to be back on traffic.

I was beat and I didn't understand where Nicky was getting all this strength. I figured it would be easier holding down a bulldozer than him right now. Here I was lying on top of him, pressing him down and he still fought me every chance he got. Until he went totally slack under me and sent my heartbeat through the roof. He can scare the living daylights outta me sometimes.

"Nicky? Oh fuck, Nicky?"

I was breathless but still not entirely sure he wasn't fooling me. Until I felt his entire body jerk and he puked his guts out.

I scrambled to my knees, lifting him up and laying him sideways in my lap as convulsions wracked his body. I got my hand on his brow to steady him while he dry heaved until he blackened out. Finding his pulse I gritted my teeth at the pace just as lights blinded me again and I could only see two silhouettes approaching fast.

Cath knelt besides me, casting a glance at the pallor of Nick's face in the light. "What happened?"

"Help me get him home," I croaked.

Gil had arrived to kneel besides Cath, letting his flashlight illuminate Nick's face, hand cupping Nick's chin. "We should take him to the hospital."

"Not now," I shook my head, "not yet. He'd hate me for that. I need to give him a chance to calm down before we go to the ER."

"You sure about this?" Cath asked.

"No," I admitted. "All I know is I need to get Nicky outta here now."

It was the light and thumping up against the car window that made me lose it this time. My brain registered the light and my body took me right back to the box. No air when lights are on. No air and you can't get out however much you claw at the Plexiglass, you're stuck and you're helpless. You're gonna die here all alone and they'll only find your bones since the ants have had their feast. Leave it to Nick Stokes to be defeated by ants.

There we are, swerving around on the freeway and my brain takes me back to the box? All while I sit there, scared shitless because the lights are blinding us and the wet asphalt is making it impossible for Warrick to steer up the car and I half expect a head-on collision.

And my body takes over my mind.

I can't breathe; I have to get out of this box. I see that flickering light go on and off and I know I need to get out of here before I run out of air. I don't know how I get out but I slip and fall and lights keep coming at me. I can't hear because the screams deafen all other sounds, I can't move because I have no air left in my lungs and the lights assault me. I'm stuck and I'm gonna die.

Then Warrick pulls me into his arms and I don't want him to see me like this. I don't need him to see wuss-Nick-the-freak. I have to get away but he won't let me. I try but the asphalt is slippery and I can't move. I try, God how I try but I get nowhere and Warrick sees it all. I have no strength left and I have to give in, I won't get away this time either, I can only register the fact that I lose again. I hear the pity in Warrick's voice and feel trapped by my own weakness. That's when my guts turn inside out and I start vomiting bitter acid as the world around me swirls so fast that it ultimately goes all black.

I don't think I can't despise myself any more than this.

Nick was half out of it all the way to his apartment. Wouldn't go to the ER. No way. When Gil suggested it he started clawing his way out of the car. It took both my and Cath's solemn promises and a lot of muscle power to keep him inside. I got pissed when he asked about the evidence, if it was safe. Catherine told him she had arranged for the car to be driven back to the lab by the officers that accompanied D.A. I just stared at him. He was shivering, leaning his head back and swallowing hard. Cath offered water but he wouldn't drink. We made another mistake then and forced him to take a sip. The dry heaving started again and I laid him down on his side with his head in my lap. He wasn't fighting me any longer, he was convulsing. By that time I'd stopped counting how many times he had almost made my heart stop.

I held him and talked to him, stroked his hair and mumbled nonsense while Cath held his wrist, checking his pulse, she didn't fool me.

"What happened?" Gil asked, glancing in the rear-view mirror.

I told them about the brain splatter, the glass counters and the flicking fluorescent lamps and the hysterical wife. I told them it had gotten to me too and then the accident on the road back.

"I don't think he's eaten a thing for at least 18 hours," Cath said, laying a hand on Nick's arm. "I told him to take a break from the rape case he was working on before this. He told me he had but I doubt it."

Nick grunted in protest.

"18 hours? How long has he been working?" I couldn't believe my ears. "He testified yesterday, didn't he?"

Catherine looked at me and nodded. "The Mourier case, yes. We all took it hard, didn't even go to trial, tossed because of a technicality. I think Nick blamed himself but the evidence was in plain view, judge thought otherwise, perp walked."

"Dammit, Nick," I groaned, "you've gotta learn some day that saving the world isn't your job."

"He wouldn't be Nick if he didn't try," Grissom pointed out, "you okay back there Nicky?"

"F-F-Fine," he got out through clattering teeth and I just stared at him. He's always been the worst liar.

Shaking my head I looked down at him. His eyes were closed, his breath shallow and sweat dotted his brow. The hand fisted on the seat was bloody, nails torn and finger tips trashed from clawing at the asphalt. I cringed at the sight dirt embedded in the wounds.

"We really should take him to the hospital Warrick," Cath told me.

"No-o," Nick pleaded and I know that the sound took us all back to that night. I saw Cath cast a glance over at Gil whose lips were pressed into a thin white line when he caught my eyes in the rear-view. My hands shivered as I pulled Nick closer.

"Please," Nick begged weakly and I fell apart. I swear I saw tears in Gil's eyes. Gil has always had a soft spot for Nick; that was probably why he occasionally was so hard on him. He's harder on Nick than the rest of us sometimes. I've gotten away with far worse things than Nick without Gil batting an eyelash. I knew it was unfair but I suspect Gil sometimes doesn't understand Nick, maybe because they're so different. Nick is this strange mixture of strength and softness that can make him hard to read.

On the other hand maybe Gil has the hots for him and keeps him at a distance so as not to play favorites? And it ends up being the exact opposite? I must admit that I've felt jealous at times, when Gil's gaze follows Nick. I know there's deep affection, if not love. I wish Gil would tell Nicky that more often. It shouldn't have to take Nicky almost dying for Gil to creep out of his shell and give Nick the time of day

Cath bit back a sob, her voice was thick when she promised we'd take him home.

I bent down and kissed his temple. By now I didn't care about who was in the front seat, I needed to get Nick through this. I just didn't care about anything else.

Cath and Gil turn up. Just what I need, more spectators to my collapse. If my hands weren't shaking so much that I'd risk shooting somebody else by mistake I would end it right here and now.

They want to take me to the ER and I can feel the restraints closing around my wrists. It would have been the looney bin for Nick Stokes. And when they see what I mess I am they'd never let me out again. Another box I can't escape.

I try to distract them, asking about the evidence left in the car. Anything to get their attention off me, because frankly, I don't need it.

I fail at that too.

They start talking about me like I'm not even there. I don't want this, I don't need this. Warrick's all worried and I hate myself for doing this to him. Warrick really doesn't need this, I should be there for him and instead I force him to play nurse. I know he hates it. He needs a man, not a freak. I give him only worry, misery, breakdowns and nothing else. I love him but I am slowly killing him. I am taking the joy out of his life and replacing it with what? My own personal freak show. I'm dragging all of them in, over and over. Like tonight. And I have no control over it whatsoever, it takes me over and drags them in. It just isn't right and I realize I have to end this. The moment the realization hits I feel the shivers take over again and I puke my guts out.

I am a mess and I need this to end.

We half carried Nick through the door and I took him straight to the bathroom. I had to get him out of the soaked clothes because he was shivering and chattering his teeth. I needed to get a sedative into him. He mumbled something rather obscene at me when I tried to get his jacket off but I didn't mind. I admit to not being the greatest nurse when I shoved him down to sit on the toilet seat and pulled his clothes off unceremoniously. I would have liked to just push him under the shower and warm him up but he was too unsteady on his feet and his hands looked awful with all that raw skin. I hollered for Grissom to get me a blanket and wrapped it around Nick.

"You need to go to the hospital and get those hands checked Nicky" I told him. "I'm not kidding here man, that's gotta hurt like hell."

Gil was standing in the doorway but Nick didn't seem to mind. He was still green around the gills.

His eyes had gone all black while Gil and Cath were debating over which one of them should take the Denali back to the lab. Nick told them he was okay and that they both should go. Gil pulled seniority and Cath looked seriously pissed when she left. Nick just looked defeated. He was still strung too tight and I was afraid he'd snap for good this time.

I checked the medicine cabinet and couldn't find the Ativan. That's when the warning bells started to sound.

"Nicky, where's your Ativan?" I searched further and just as I suspected, the Zoloft was gone too. "You quit cold turkey, didn't you Nicky?" The pieces started to fall into place. The increased difficulties sleeping, the appetite loss and the darkness coming back to linger in his eyes. "When Nicky?"

"Four days ago," he admitted through chattering teeth.

"Why Nick?" Gil asked, walking up to him, kneeling in front of him making Nick look very embarrassed.

I wanted to scream and shake him but instead I just stared at him, nailing him in place with my glare. Why would he do a thing like that when he knew that he needed the help? He'd need it for at least 6 more months. Yeah, I've been reading up on PTSD and reactive depressions, so sue me.

Nick looked at me, a plea for help. But I wasn't bailing him out this time.

"I just wanna be normal," Nick offered as explanation. "I want everything to be normal. B- But I-I can't…." The words were punctuated with harsh inhalations and his tremors increased.

Gil looked at me and I fled the bathroom. I always run at some point when it gets to be too much. I had to literally stop myself from punching a hole in the wall when I ran out. Why do I keep running? With a curse I realized I had to correct the situation and walk back in there looking like I had a reason to leave in the first place.

I went into Nick's bedroom, gathered clothes for him, then on to the kitchen, picking up plastic bags and tape from a drawer and the scissors. I had a mission. I wasn't running I told myself. So I walked back, equipped with reasons.

"Nicky, you're freezing your sweet butt off, I'll help you take a shower and warm you up."

Nick looked at me like I'd lost my mind, before that characteristic blush crept up his cheeks, finally giving some color to his face.

Gil took the cue with a smile and Nick's lower lip trembled as the older man put his hand on his shoulder in an accepting gesture. I had staked my claim and it felt good. I met Gil's eyes calmly as he left.

Yes, I love Nicky and I'm here for him. Any objections?

Shit, my legs shake so much I can't get inside on my own. Warrick and Gil have to help me. Perfect, I'm making Cath and Gil's look at me like I'm five years old and still not out of diapers. I'm wiped and strung out like a smelly rag that desperately needs to be replaced but it was left to you by your Grandma and you just don't have the heart to throw it out. I see it all in their faces. "Poor Nicky, he'll never be normal again, it was all too much for him and he won't ever cope on his own."

It's guilt talking; I see it and I don't know how to wipe it out. I was the one stupid enough to be dragged into an early grave; they had nothing to do with it.

I'm nothing but a burden.

And Warrick has to show everybody how useless I am? Like I'm not capable of humiliating myself enough to begin with? If my teeth don't stop chattering soon, I'm going to pound my head against the wall.

When Warrick goes in search of my meds I want to cry. Nick Stokes needs heavy medication to keep it together, Nick Stokes needs and needs and needs and has nothing to give. And he forces the man he loves and his friends to look at the decay; how he slowly comes apart and grabs for the only help available. Small tiny pills to help him keep at least a modicum of control. I'm a sick puppy surviving on 10 mg of artificial strength alternated with 5 mg of peace of mind. And they ask me why I stopped taking them? Because I don't wanna be this kind of me any longer, I don't wanna be needy and helpless and scared and a complete mess.

Not even Warrick can take it any longer and he runs out. I can't blame him; I'm the one that should be running.

Gil watches me and I shrink to nothing.

I had to smile at the thought of me in the shower with Nick while Gil waits outside. It truly boggled my mind. How had I gotten this far this fast? Normally I'd soap another man in for just one reason, having him hard and fast. But not Nicky, never with Nicky like that. Nick makes me want to take care of him. It was scary as hell to see those traits in myself, but I guess I'm a mother hen deep inside. But I'm not good at it, not really. I think this is all my fault. I kick myself mentally over the mistakes I've made during the night.

I held him under the shower and he just looks away, wouldn't meet my eyes, mumbling that he can do it himself. I point to his hands that I had just taped plastic bags over to protect them. Besides, I don't trust he can actually stand for any length of time. He needs medical attention, I know that but first he needs to regain his confidence. I don't know how to give that back because words have never been my strength. I love him but I've seldom told him out loud and I'm afraid he doubts me. And after that night, why shouldn't he?

"Please Warr', stop this," he said while I rinsed the soap off him.

"Stop what?" I asked, my face close to his but he wouldn't look up. "Nicky, look at me."

"We gotta stop this," watching the water vanishing down the drain. "It's not right."

I froze, I swear that under that hot water I felt fucking ice forming in my veins and the chunks of piercing fear coursing through my system stopped to pound rhythmically in my temples.

"What are you sayin' Nicky?"

"I hate what I'm doing to you, what I'm doing to all of you. Freakin' you out, being a hopeless mess and destroying everything. I don't know what happened back there, those lights, that glass and the woman screaming. Man, it just got to me and I fell apart. I fell apart and you had to save my ass. I'm so tired of it."

"Nicky," I crooned.

"I'm a freak."

"Huh?"

"They're all watching me like that. Like I'm about to break into pitiful peaces for them to scoop up, Warrick. Even you, how many times have you saved my sorry ass by now? I don't want this any more, I don't want people to look at me like that. I can't take it any more, it's gotta stop. This has gotta stop."

My thoughts went haywire at that point: Is he breaking up with me? What the fuck? Here he makes me love him and now he wants to rip my bleedin' heart out?

I turned the water off.

"Look at me, Nicky. Now!" I cupped my hands around his face, let my thumbs slide along his jaw and gently forced him to look at me. "What is this? You clockin' out on me? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"I don't want you to see me like this."

He looked at me with those eyes that always speak volumes. Now they spoke of shame and sorrow and I hate the world for doing this to my Nicky. If only there was someone I could punch out to make everything better, anything tangible I could destroy to fix all this. But Nicky is doing this to himself, all I have are words and I am not so good with words.

So I pulled him into my arms. I held him so tight I could feel his heart beating against my ribs. I've read all about depression, lowering self-esteem, doubt and the thing I fear most of all; self-destruction. "You won't believe a word I say right now will you?"

He didn't deny it, just stood there, tremors still shaking his body.

"You moron," I told him. "People aren't looking at you because they pity you. They look at you because you're fucking beautiful. Because when you smile you - fuck it Nicky, you're making me sound like a cheap novel here. I can't help but look at you because you're so alive, so fucking vibrant. I can't stop looking at you because I see the world mirrored in you eyes. I can't tell you how but I see it all in you and I just melt for chrissake. Pity you? I envy you, you moron. Don't get me wrong, not for what happened to you but for what you are. Nick Stokes, a man most people can't help loving. I don't know if it's charm or charisma but I know that it's just one of the things I love in you. Because there's something unique about you Nicky, something wordless that just grabs my heart. And like you've noticed, makes me sound like a trashy novel. And you're clockin' out on me? No fricken way in hell Nicky. You're mine."

"Rick, it's for your own good. You need someone - " he tried to break into my sermon.

"Shut up Nick, just shut up," I cut him off. "Need is just one part of it, I love you despite those ghastly shirts and stupid caps you wear. Despite the incredibly tacky CD collection and your obsession with Discovery Channel and birds. I love you, you miserable son of a bitch. So do Cath and Grissom, and yes before you ask I have fits of stupid jealousy when anybody looks at you like they wanna eat you up. Coz' I wanna be the only one to do that. I hate it when people look at you that way because I know why they do – they look at you because you're you. You're Nicky and you're beautiful. "

"No," he protests, shaking his head against my shoulder.

I smiled against his skin and kissed his ear. "I'm sorry Nicky but you don't have a say in this. You are beautiful inside out and I love you, there's nothing you can do about that. And now I'm gonna help you dress and take you to the ER and you don't have a say in that either."

He holds me and tells me he loves me and I feel like dissolving and disappearing with the water down the drain. It's pain and comfort all rolled into one and I fight the stupid tears again. But he doesn't understand, well how could he? I don't. I'm sucking him dry. I lean into him and take all his strength, I swear I do and one day he will hate me for it. I've been doing it since the box and I can't see the end of it. It doesn't get better either, like everybody promised, it keeps getting worse. Right out of the hospital I was relieved; I survived and had the marks to remind me. Of course, I was jumpy as hell and I didn't sleep very well but everything was fresh and I had a reason. The reasons were marked on my skin and very tangible.

Not anymore and it keeps getting worse.

I have no warning when I lose it. The flashing of a light can be enough but at times I can go a week without going nuts. I'm out of control and that is not a place I want to be. It's not a place I want to drag my loved ones into, it's a scary place filled with land mines.

It might even be lethal.

I try to tell Warrick he doesn't have to lie to me. I've seen that look on people's faces and he's wrong, wrong but kind and right now I can't afford to lie to myself. I want to, it would be so easy to not face the truth and rely on Warrick to see me through this but it's too much. You can't put the one you love through all this. Because it's ugly.

I remember some corny song about "If you love somebody set them free" – turns out it wasn't so corny after all. I need to set Warrick free before I destroy him like this thing is destroying me.

He won't listen to me and why should he? I'm not Nick anymore.

He's right, he does sound like a trashy novel but strangely it fits. My life is like an after-school special mixed with a really bad reality show. I know it but that's where the lack of control comes in to play again. I know but I can't change anything, not even the way I think.

He says I have no say; he doesn't know how right he is.

It took us 6 hours to get home from the ER. Nick didn't say a word during the entire process and had me explain it all. Well, I lied, I'm good at lying. I told them we had been rock climbing and that the rain surprised us and Nick had to hang on for dear life. It wasn't so far from the truth anyhow, at least not the hanging on for dear life part. They pulled Nick's chart and I noticed the change in the nurse attending to Nick; she spoke more softly around him and lowered her voice. I knew Nick hated that kind of special treatment.

The also called Dr. Kane. Probably why we had to wait for hours, Kane showed up early in the morning and took Nick into a room and closed the door on me.

I wasn't happy about that.

Then they insisted on giving me a look over too. That really pissed me off. I got two days of sick leave, due to exhaustion. What exhausted me were the slowpokes at the ER. But I didn't complain, Grissom and Cath can take our case and it meant more time to spend with Nicky. I never say no to spending time with him.

Nick seemed a little more at ease as we sat in the kitchen with bowls of cereal. The fidgeting stopped along with the shivers and the chattering teeth. I glared at him to make him eat more and to my surprise he obliged, with an equally reprimanding glare back. But he finally did eat. With difficulty since most of his fingers were taped for protection. I wanted to spoon feed him but I knew he'll kill me if I tried. We didn't say much, I had a thousand questions I needed to ask but I can wait. I'm back to watching and I couldn't take my eyes off him. One of these days he's gonna pop me one.

He must have used the puppy-dog eyes on Kane because he has no prescriptions, or he lied to me. But Nicky was never very good at lying or maybe he's fooled me all along.

He looked dreadful and I just wanted to drag him to bed and hold him.

"Let's get some sleep, Nicky."

He looked at me and I can't quite interpret the emotions that play over his face. But I can guess after our discussion in the shower.

"No Nicky, you're not getting rid of me, I'm sorry."

I reveled in the small smile that he bestowed on me, because it actually reaches his eyes. My heart made a jolt straight from a trashy novel.

I reached over to touch him and pulled him up by his wrists. "Let's go to bed," I plead again.

And we do, go to bed.

I help him undress even as he smirks at me. I didn't even leave his boxers on and he shakes his head. "I want to feel all of you."

"Maniac."

"Tease," I said sitting on the bed with him in front of me. He's naked and beautiful and I want to feel him sleeping up against me. I want his skin to melt into mine. I am greedy, I know that.

I pulled him down on the bed and shed my own clothes in the process, tossing them impatiently to the floor. Then I curled around him and he actually chuckled. I breathe him in with my nose tucked in the nape of his neck. His scent is dangerous; I suspect it would wake the dead. It certainly wakes me and I'm forced to move away from him because of my erection. He follows, snuggling back against me and I groan, kissing that sensitive spot right behind his ear.

"Sleep Nicky," I ordered.

"Tease," he said and turned his head to look at me. A tired smile played around his lips and a hand strayed down my thigh. His fingers might be taped but he found other parts of his body to rub up against me. I paused to check the smoldering brown of his eyes and grin at the hunger therein. I don't want to make love to him if it's out of gratitude or something else on his part.

"I should let you sleep," I mumble into his ear. smiling when he grunts and reaches back to pull my lips to his. The way he plays with my bottom lip, suckling at it and teasing with the tip of his tongue drives me out of my mind. I swear he can make me come with a kiss alone. I didn't want that to happen so I started kissing down his spine while my hands wandered to his inner thighs, letting them rest there with promise. I love the sounds he makes, monosyllabic grunts that with some imagination can be interpreted as words. He moaned my name deep in his throat and leaned into me. His butt ground over my erection making me bite softly at his neck. I had to close my eyes because if I look at him it would be over for me in an instant and I needed to concentrate on him. But he's not one for making it easy. I could feel the muscles dancing under his taut skin and he makes this incredibly erotic motion with his hips, the soft skin on the inside of his arms stroking over my hip. In retaliation I moved my hand to lay on the flat of his stomach. I think he curses me because I won't touch him but I'm not sure; I was too busy peppering kisses over his neck.

"Warrick, please," he begs, looking at me over his shoulder. His bandaged hand gripped my wrist to hold me in place. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and I come undone. I can't stand myself for doing this to him after all that's happened but I couldn't stop myself either. Not when he looks at me like that. I rolled him over and kissed him, my cock getting caught between us and Nick made his move. Rolling his hips, hands grasping mine to keep me close. Kissing me and playing devil with my tongue, I try to hold back but it's futile. It only took a few minute of breathless grinding before I had to break the kiss and tilt my head back as I come all over him. It's my turn to shiver and shake as I moan my way through release.

I fell over him, nose landing in the juncture of his shoulder and neck and he chuckled at me. Right after making love to Nick I am in another world, he claims I mumble a lot of nonsense. All I know is that he is under me, I can feel his breath and hot skin. It always takes a few minutes before the fog lifts.

Then I take my sweet revenge.

He gets this feral look at times.
Like now when I grin at his silly love talk as he lays over me in the aftermath of his orgasm. He calls me all kinds of endearing things like buttercup, honeypie, mumpkin and I chuckle at him. He's so beautifully verbose when aroused. And he's just as needy as I am and I see no pity in his gaze. I love him just for that, that there are some times when I'm just Nick, not poor shattered Nick. Ok, so maybe I am kind of damaged but I feel like I have to cut him some slack while he floats in some kind of semiconscious state.

I kiss his sweaty temple and grin as he mumbles endearments with his face pressed in the crook of my neck. Totally slack and relaxed. Few people see this side of Rick and I'm proud that I'm allowed to. He's not the hard ass, poker-faced manly man so many people see. He's my Rick, soft and warm and cozy.

Then he gives me that look and my breath hitches. He moves up on me and I ask him feebly if he's forgotten about the sleep already? Pinning my wrists besides my head he answers with his lips. Suckling at my ears and neck, stopping to give me that look every now and then and I can't suffocate the groans any longer when he pushes his legs in between mine and his hip presses down on my painfully erect cock. Then he takes possession of my body but this time I am safe. I welcome his possession. He controls it totally, plays me with expert fingers and a tongue that makes the world around me vanish in a flurry onslaught of endorphins. I'm melting and burning at the same time and he lets go of my hands and I claw at the sheets. Time ceases to exist and there's only Warrick taking me to the brink and holding me there until I plead for him to finally push me over. But he won't. He suckles, he strokes and he licks and I'm on verge of a totally different kind of breakdown. I'm sure I'm begging until he finally lubes me up and slowly eases down on my cock. He's not ready and I don't want him to hurt himself. I try to find the words but my voice fails me again. He slowly pushes down onto me and rocks until I arch off the bed and wail his name as I come and he hovers over me breathing heavily into my ear as he wets me again with his release. I feel it spreading across my chest while I totally empty myself into him in long bone melting spasms. I throw my arms around him and embrace him tight enough to feel his racing heart and his sweet string of endearments whispered breathlessly against my neck; "Oh God, Nicky baby, you kill me, sweetie. So damned beautiful when you come, love."

I smile and tell him I love him too.

I can't move for the longest time, we lay entangled, breath slowly evening out. I can feel his hands under my shoulder blades and his lips resting on my temple as I drift, feeling heavy and boneless. He raises his head to look at me and I know I can't leave him, not even if it's for his own good. I just can't. Tears rise and threaten to spill and he kisses my eyelids with a soft croon of my name.

Then he covers us with the blankets and I know that as hard as this all gets I still have Warrick. And he doesn't look at me with pity when we make love.

Right now that's enough for me to get through the day. I don't know about tomorrow but right now it's enough. If there's one thing I've learned it's that tomorrow is a chimera, cunning in its supposed predictability. Just like the fears and illusions that sometimes swallow me, chew me up and if I'm lucky, spit me out.

I just have to learn to live with that. Because after all, I'm more afraid of dying than living and sometimes it feels like that is the only normalcy I have left.

The End