"Reclaiming Life" Part 3
Jul. 9th, 2005 04:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kristen999Title: Reclaiming Life (Part 3)
Authors: Kristen999 and Shacky20
Category: Drama/Angst- Friendship
Spoilers: Grave Danger
Disclaimer: All rights belong to CBS and all their fine writers. Please don't sue. This is just for fun.
CHAPTER 3 By Kristen
Catherine felt the warmth of his fingers, the subtle pulse in his wrist. Nick's eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn't sleeping. His breathing was finally a bit more even, but that fluctuated depending on if he started to drift off. Then his breath would hitch in his throat, and his eyes were fly open. He would cry out or start to sob uncontrollably. He's adjust his grip with hers, his hand never left her entwined fingers.
Nick insisted on lying on his side, mumbling something about being on his back for too long. Catherine wanted to gently stoke his arms, but they were wrapped in light, gauze to keep the CSI from scratching at his irritated skin. She thought with all the medications that he was on, that they would certainly have knocked him out. But, Nick was fighting it.... Battling the darkness.
The door opened and Warrick entered the room. His usual confident stride was replaced with heavy, downcast, footsteps. He took the chair next to hers. Nick eyes opened at half-mast and followed the movement somewhat unfocused. Then as if his lids were too heavy, they slowly drifted close again.
Warrick adjusted his weight in the chair, causing it to creak. The room was dim; it took them several tries to get the correct amount of light in the room, before Nick was comfortable enough with the level of brightness. Warrick nibbled on his bottom lip and looked over at his boss.
"How's he doin'?" His voice was hushed, as if he might disturb the other man.
Catherine rubbed her thumb along the inside of Nick's palm. "He's in and out." Catherine coughed slightly, as her scratchy voice grated her ears. "He won't say anything. He just starts to shake and I try to calm him as best as I can."
The door swung open again and a nurse with dark black hair entered as stealthily as possible. She nodded at the two people in chairs and took out a syringe and injected something in the criminalists' IV.
"Hummmph...w-what's that?" Nick asked hoarsely, his voice worn away by too much stress.
"Something to help you sleep, dear." The nurse patted Nick's shoulder and exited the room as swiftly as she entered.
Several minutes ticked away in an eerie silence. Warrick rested his elbows on his knees, counting the numbers of lines in the floor. It seemed to be the only thing to take away too many dark images that seemed to fill his mind of the last few hours. He closed his eyes, content to listening to everyone's breathing. His back was tight with tension, and he really wanted a nice hot shower.
After a couple of minutes he felt a hand on his back, then two, as a set of thumbs tug into his taunt muscles. Warrick allowed fingers to dig deep into his shoulders and with an exhale, he lifted his heavy head.
"Nicky's asleep. His hand finally relaxed." Catherine whispered to her partner's unvocalized question.
Warrick looked over at his best friend. Nick's body wasn't tense, the lines around his eyes were not as pronounced. His chest in and exhaled in a normal rhythm for the first time all night.
"We're gonna take shifts staying with him. One day a week, till he's all right." Warrick explained of the plans discussed outside this very room.
Catherine pulled back some of the hair that slipped down her face. "I figured on something to that effect."
"Yeah," was Warrick's strained response.
Catherine kept her hands on her colleague's back and rested her chin on his shoulder. She let her arms drift down, and Warrick captured her hands in his. They remained that way for a long time, till each of them adjusted their seats and waited for morning to approach. Neither had any plans of leaving Nick alone this night.
******************************************************
Four days of his life had been spent at the hospital. It was a whirl winded blur of flowers, cards, and endless streams of well wishers. Most of the time Nick had been in a fuzzy fog of heavy medication and sedation. Tons of staff members from the crime lab had stopped by, but he couldn't recall many faces. His team had been a permanent fixture in his room. He was never left alone except for a few rare instances. His parents had flown back, despite their desire to stay. There was huge trial that could not be pushed back any further.
Now he was home and a part of him really was kind of weary of all the attention. It was an endless internal struggle. His mind was in constant state of flux. Nick had used his skills and training to endure and stay alive. He didn't give in to the temptation of taking the easy way out. Until of course the fan had stopped and he was left with only several minutes of slow agonizing torture. He felt his pulse race at the thought of how close he came to pulling the trigger. Never in his life did he ever imagine that he would put his own gun to his chin. He could still feel the muzzle dig into his throat.
Nick had been told to his face countless times how strong and courageous he was. The words 'will power' were echoed by his friends, and he smiled sheepishly every time. He believed it to some extent. The CSI had been taught well and cherished life as much as anyone.
When he arrived back home, he had developed a plan. Endure.....just like every time. If he felt a twinge of fear, just push it back down deep with all his other dark and twisted feelings.
Warrick, Greg, Sara and Grissom were all sitting in different parts of his home. Each one would glance up at him, as if trying to remind themselves that he was actually alive. Then they would dart their eyes to something else and he would feel slightly uncomfortable.
Warrick didn't say much on the car ride over here. It seemed like the art of casual conversation had been lost and Nick was left to stare out the window and relish all his vast surroundings. He refused any help from his friend, even though his movements were slightly sluggish and a bit clumsy. Nick didn't know why, it wasn't like he had been physically injured in any major way.
It seemed that every step took more effort than usual. The box had zapped him of his strength and he felt weak and tired all the time. Nick sat on his sofa, his energy level near fumes, but he fought any urges to go to get some rest. No, that was something he still had a hard time coming to terms with. He felt a sudden tightness in his chest whenever the idea of sleep entered his mind.
Greg and Warrick pretended to watch television. Grissom spent time wandering aimlessly around his townhouse. Gil's eyes took in every detail, as if by scanning the contents of his home, the older man would gain some valuable insight into the person who lived here. The entomologist didn't seem very comfortable in this semi-social setting. Nick didn't blame him.
It didn't matter what each team member was doing to occupy their time. Nick felt their eyes on him as he sipped on a cup of tea that Sara had made him. He didn't own anything herbal. This reminded him to take stock of his groceries. It seemed Sara went shopping for him as a way to take her mind off the events that lead them all to this little gathering.
The object of his thoughts drifted over and Sara quietly settled next to him. "Grissom and I are on in the next hour. I have pizzas in the fridge and made some homemade soup."
Sara spent more time talking at his chest then looking at him in the eyes. Nick got the sinking suspicion that if she did manage to make eye contact with him, then she might falter somehow. This just made him nervous.
"Thanks, Sara," he said softly.
Nick grabbed her hand, until her eyes meet his. "For everything." He rubbed her knuckles softly. His throat tightened. "I'm here now. I'm not goin' anywhere and I don't plan on it anytime soon."
Sara quickly took him into a quick embrace. She hung her head over his shoulder and let her fingers drift into his hair. Then just as suddenly, she bolted up. "I need to get a head start on some paper work." She said, her clumsy excuse hollow.
Sara didn't even say good-bye to the others and quickly let herself out.
Nick sat dumbly on his couch. The Texan stared down at his hands and studied the pink and agitated flesh. He resisted the urge to scratch the fiery skin. Nick could still feel tiny little legs make their way up his legs and chest. It was even harder with his arms. Hundreds of bites burned warmly underneath the ointment and gauze. Nick studied his limbs and relished a tiny victory. His hands were still and motionless for once.
He was in control right now, no one else. Nick felt one of his prescription bottles in his Jean's pocket. He fished it out to read the label. He had several medicines to battle infection and inflammation from the fire ants.
This one was different. He fiddled with the smooth brown plastic as he stared at the instructions. It was some kind of anti-anxiety medication. He was supposed to take this twice a day for the first week home. If that wasn't enough, he also had sleeping pills and even an anti depressant. Nick thumbed the cap, causing a slight clicking noise.
Nick had seen what these types of medications did to you. They dulled the senses and made you groggy. He wasn't about to lose control or let his guard down again. If he had been more aware of his surroundings at that trash dump, maybe he would have overpowered his attacker and saved everyone a ton of grief. Or maybe it wouldn't have happened at all. He chastised himself.
He gritted his teeth and pocketed the meds. He didn't want to take them. They weren't needed.
He glanced up to see his friends look his way with concern. Nick didn't know how long he had been lost in thought.
"I'm fine guys. None of you have to worry about me freaking out anymore." He calmly explained to them.
Nick smiled. He was out of the box. There wasn't any reason to dwell on it anymore.
Grissom was next to walk over to him. Nick wasn't sure what to expect. The supervisor went over to his kitchen counter and picked up a brown paper bag. "There are some herbs in here that will help with the itching and inflammation."
Gil handed Nick a jar that filled with what looked like spices and dead leaves. The criminalist furrowed his brow. "I'm supposed to eat these?"
Grissom looked at him quzzingly, and shook his head sadly. "No, Nick. You use these in a warm bath. It'll soothe your skin."
Nick blushed slightly when he saw Warrick and Greg glance over. "Uh, Grissom, I don't take....ah ...baths."
Grissom fixed the CSI with had to be the teacher to pupil expression. "In this case, I'd make an exception."
"Use it with Mr. Bubble." Greg said in a teasing way to lighten the mood.
Nick fixed the spiky haired CSI with a 'I'll kill you' stare. The younger man quickly went back to watching the basketball game on TV. Warrick just snorted, it was the first time Nick had seen the solemn man out of his melancholy mood.
Nick studied the mason jar. "Thanks. I'll try anything at this point. "
Nick knew this was the entomologist's way of showing he cared. Grissom gave him what was the closest approximate of a smile.
The grave shift supervisor left as well, leaving Nick with two last houseguests. The criminalist went back to his sofa. He watched his two best friends. Greg was glued to the TV and actually seemed interested in the semi finals going on. On the other hand, Warrick looked dead on his feet. His partner was falling asleep in the chair.
Nick wandered over and peered down on the other man. "Why don't you go home bro? I don't have any sleeping bags that'll you can fit in." Nick chuckled.
Warrick rubbed his hands though his short cropped dreads. He gazed at his friend as if he was trying to determine if it was safe to let him out of his sight. Nick seemed more collected after four days of drug-induced rest. The CSI was hesitant, but Greg was going to stay tonight. Warrick had spent practically the last few days at Nick's bedside and he really needed real sleep.
Greg got out of his chair and started shooing the other man out. Warrick gathered his wits about him and headed home. He strode past Nick and tapped his shoulder. "Call me if ya need anything."
Nick smiled. "Sure thing. But I think Greggo and I will be fine."
Nick knew better then to argue about his over night guest. Warrick had told him in uncertain terms he would have people over for a while. Nick knew there was no way his partner would leave if the former lab tech weren't allowed to stay.
Greg walked the other CSI to the door. Catherine had gone home to be with her daughter. She still had lab duties to juggle after spending time at the hospital as well. Warrick dragged himself out the door. He headed home hoping he would not be plagued by horrific nightmares about his best friend suffocating.
Warrick looked over his shoulder at Greg Sanders. He didn't speak. No words were required. Warrick told the younger man with his eyes that he'd better take care of Nick. Greg stood up straighter. His expression was clear. He would make sure their friend was all right his first night home.
Authors: Kristen999 and Shacky20
Category: Drama/Angst- Friendship
Spoilers: Grave Danger
Disclaimer: All rights belong to CBS and all their fine writers. Please don't sue. This is just for fun.
CHAPTER 3 By Kristen
Catherine felt the warmth of his fingers, the subtle pulse in his wrist. Nick's eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn't sleeping. His breathing was finally a bit more even, but that fluctuated depending on if he started to drift off. Then his breath would hitch in his throat, and his eyes were fly open. He would cry out or start to sob uncontrollably. He's adjust his grip with hers, his hand never left her entwined fingers.
Nick insisted on lying on his side, mumbling something about being on his back for too long. Catherine wanted to gently stoke his arms, but they were wrapped in light, gauze to keep the CSI from scratching at his irritated skin. She thought with all the medications that he was on, that they would certainly have knocked him out. But, Nick was fighting it.... Battling the darkness.
The door opened and Warrick entered the room. His usual confident stride was replaced with heavy, downcast, footsteps. He took the chair next to hers. Nick eyes opened at half-mast and followed the movement somewhat unfocused. Then as if his lids were too heavy, they slowly drifted close again.
Warrick adjusted his weight in the chair, causing it to creak. The room was dim; it took them several tries to get the correct amount of light in the room, before Nick was comfortable enough with the level of brightness. Warrick nibbled on his bottom lip and looked over at his boss.
"How's he doin'?" His voice was hushed, as if he might disturb the other man.
Catherine rubbed her thumb along the inside of Nick's palm. "He's in and out." Catherine coughed slightly, as her scratchy voice grated her ears. "He won't say anything. He just starts to shake and I try to calm him as best as I can."
The door swung open again and a nurse with dark black hair entered as stealthily as possible. She nodded at the two people in chairs and took out a syringe and injected something in the criminalists' IV.
"Hummmph...w-what's that?" Nick asked hoarsely, his voice worn away by too much stress.
"Something to help you sleep, dear." The nurse patted Nick's shoulder and exited the room as swiftly as she entered.
Several minutes ticked away in an eerie silence. Warrick rested his elbows on his knees, counting the numbers of lines in the floor. It seemed to be the only thing to take away too many dark images that seemed to fill his mind of the last few hours. He closed his eyes, content to listening to everyone's breathing. His back was tight with tension, and he really wanted a nice hot shower.
After a couple of minutes he felt a hand on his back, then two, as a set of thumbs tug into his taunt muscles. Warrick allowed fingers to dig deep into his shoulders and with an exhale, he lifted his heavy head.
"Nicky's asleep. His hand finally relaxed." Catherine whispered to her partner's unvocalized question.
Warrick looked over at his best friend. Nick's body wasn't tense, the lines around his eyes were not as pronounced. His chest in and exhaled in a normal rhythm for the first time all night.
"We're gonna take shifts staying with him. One day a week, till he's all right." Warrick explained of the plans discussed outside this very room.
Catherine pulled back some of the hair that slipped down her face. "I figured on something to that effect."
"Yeah," was Warrick's strained response.
Catherine kept her hands on her colleague's back and rested her chin on his shoulder. She let her arms drift down, and Warrick captured her hands in his. They remained that way for a long time, till each of them adjusted their seats and waited for morning to approach. Neither had any plans of leaving Nick alone this night.
******************************************************
Four days of his life had been spent at the hospital. It was a whirl winded blur of flowers, cards, and endless streams of well wishers. Most of the time Nick had been in a fuzzy fog of heavy medication and sedation. Tons of staff members from the crime lab had stopped by, but he couldn't recall many faces. His team had been a permanent fixture in his room. He was never left alone except for a few rare instances. His parents had flown back, despite their desire to stay. There was huge trial that could not be pushed back any further.
Now he was home and a part of him really was kind of weary of all the attention. It was an endless internal struggle. His mind was in constant state of flux. Nick had used his skills and training to endure and stay alive. He didn't give in to the temptation of taking the easy way out. Until of course the fan had stopped and he was left with only several minutes of slow agonizing torture. He felt his pulse race at the thought of how close he came to pulling the trigger. Never in his life did he ever imagine that he would put his own gun to his chin. He could still feel the muzzle dig into his throat.
Nick had been told to his face countless times how strong and courageous he was. The words 'will power' were echoed by his friends, and he smiled sheepishly every time. He believed it to some extent. The CSI had been taught well and cherished life as much as anyone.
When he arrived back home, he had developed a plan. Endure.....just like every time. If he felt a twinge of fear, just push it back down deep with all his other dark and twisted feelings.
Warrick, Greg, Sara and Grissom were all sitting in different parts of his home. Each one would glance up at him, as if trying to remind themselves that he was actually alive. Then they would dart their eyes to something else and he would feel slightly uncomfortable.
Warrick didn't say much on the car ride over here. It seemed like the art of casual conversation had been lost and Nick was left to stare out the window and relish all his vast surroundings. He refused any help from his friend, even though his movements were slightly sluggish and a bit clumsy. Nick didn't know why, it wasn't like he had been physically injured in any major way.
It seemed that every step took more effort than usual. The box had zapped him of his strength and he felt weak and tired all the time. Nick sat on his sofa, his energy level near fumes, but he fought any urges to go to get some rest. No, that was something he still had a hard time coming to terms with. He felt a sudden tightness in his chest whenever the idea of sleep entered his mind.
Greg and Warrick pretended to watch television. Grissom spent time wandering aimlessly around his townhouse. Gil's eyes took in every detail, as if by scanning the contents of his home, the older man would gain some valuable insight into the person who lived here. The entomologist didn't seem very comfortable in this semi-social setting. Nick didn't blame him.
It didn't matter what each team member was doing to occupy their time. Nick felt their eyes on him as he sipped on a cup of tea that Sara had made him. He didn't own anything herbal. This reminded him to take stock of his groceries. It seemed Sara went shopping for him as a way to take her mind off the events that lead them all to this little gathering.
The object of his thoughts drifted over and Sara quietly settled next to him. "Grissom and I are on in the next hour. I have pizzas in the fridge and made some homemade soup."
Sara spent more time talking at his chest then looking at him in the eyes. Nick got the sinking suspicion that if she did manage to make eye contact with him, then she might falter somehow. This just made him nervous.
"Thanks, Sara," he said softly.
Nick grabbed her hand, until her eyes meet his. "For everything." He rubbed her knuckles softly. His throat tightened. "I'm here now. I'm not goin' anywhere and I don't plan on it anytime soon."
Sara quickly took him into a quick embrace. She hung her head over his shoulder and let her fingers drift into his hair. Then just as suddenly, she bolted up. "I need to get a head start on some paper work." She said, her clumsy excuse hollow.
Sara didn't even say good-bye to the others and quickly let herself out.
Nick sat dumbly on his couch. The Texan stared down at his hands and studied the pink and agitated flesh. He resisted the urge to scratch the fiery skin. Nick could still feel tiny little legs make their way up his legs and chest. It was even harder with his arms. Hundreds of bites burned warmly underneath the ointment and gauze. Nick studied his limbs and relished a tiny victory. His hands were still and motionless for once.
He was in control right now, no one else. Nick felt one of his prescription bottles in his Jean's pocket. He fished it out to read the label. He had several medicines to battle infection and inflammation from the fire ants.
This one was different. He fiddled with the smooth brown plastic as he stared at the instructions. It was some kind of anti-anxiety medication. He was supposed to take this twice a day for the first week home. If that wasn't enough, he also had sleeping pills and even an anti depressant. Nick thumbed the cap, causing a slight clicking noise.
Nick had seen what these types of medications did to you. They dulled the senses and made you groggy. He wasn't about to lose control or let his guard down again. If he had been more aware of his surroundings at that trash dump, maybe he would have overpowered his attacker and saved everyone a ton of grief. Or maybe it wouldn't have happened at all. He chastised himself.
He gritted his teeth and pocketed the meds. He didn't want to take them. They weren't needed.
He glanced up to see his friends look his way with concern. Nick didn't know how long he had been lost in thought.
"I'm fine guys. None of you have to worry about me freaking out anymore." He calmly explained to them.
Nick smiled. He was out of the box. There wasn't any reason to dwell on it anymore.
Grissom was next to walk over to him. Nick wasn't sure what to expect. The supervisor went over to his kitchen counter and picked up a brown paper bag. "There are some herbs in here that will help with the itching and inflammation."
Gil handed Nick a jar that filled with what looked like spices and dead leaves. The criminalist furrowed his brow. "I'm supposed to eat these?"
Grissom looked at him quzzingly, and shook his head sadly. "No, Nick. You use these in a warm bath. It'll soothe your skin."
Nick blushed slightly when he saw Warrick and Greg glance over. "Uh, Grissom, I don't take....ah ...baths."
Grissom fixed the CSI with had to be the teacher to pupil expression. "In this case, I'd make an exception."
"Use it with Mr. Bubble." Greg said in a teasing way to lighten the mood.
Nick fixed the spiky haired CSI with a 'I'll kill you' stare. The younger man quickly went back to watching the basketball game on TV. Warrick just snorted, it was the first time Nick had seen the solemn man out of his melancholy mood.
Nick studied the mason jar. "Thanks. I'll try anything at this point. "
Nick knew this was the entomologist's way of showing he cared. Grissom gave him what was the closest approximate of a smile.
The grave shift supervisor left as well, leaving Nick with two last houseguests. The criminalist went back to his sofa. He watched his two best friends. Greg was glued to the TV and actually seemed interested in the semi finals going on. On the other hand, Warrick looked dead on his feet. His partner was falling asleep in the chair.
Nick wandered over and peered down on the other man. "Why don't you go home bro? I don't have any sleeping bags that'll you can fit in." Nick chuckled.
Warrick rubbed his hands though his short cropped dreads. He gazed at his friend as if he was trying to determine if it was safe to let him out of his sight. Nick seemed more collected after four days of drug-induced rest. The CSI was hesitant, but Greg was going to stay tonight. Warrick had spent practically the last few days at Nick's bedside and he really needed real sleep.
Greg got out of his chair and started shooing the other man out. Warrick gathered his wits about him and headed home. He strode past Nick and tapped his shoulder. "Call me if ya need anything."
Nick smiled. "Sure thing. But I think Greggo and I will be fine."
Nick knew better then to argue about his over night guest. Warrick had told him in uncertain terms he would have people over for a while. Nick knew there was no way his partner would leave if the former lab tech weren't allowed to stay.
Greg walked the other CSI to the door. Catherine had gone home to be with her daughter. She still had lab duties to juggle after spending time at the hospital as well. Warrick dragged himself out the door. He headed home hoping he would not be plagued by horrific nightmares about his best friend suffocating.
Warrick looked over his shoulder at Greg Sanders. He didn't speak. No words were required. Warrick told the younger man with his eyes that he'd better take care of Nick. Greg stood up straighter. His expression was clear. He would make sure their friend was all right his first night home.
