He woke screaming, in darkness.
Even when he found that his arms could flail freely, that his head met no resistance as he sat up, that his legs could kick out and connect with nothing, he still felt the panic washing over him. He tangled the sheets through his fingers, tugging at them, trying to break free, hearing the cries that came from his lips and feeling helpless to do anything but let them continue.
Finally his voice grew hoarse, his throat choked with coughs, and he sat gasping for breath, clutching his knees to his chest and wondering if it would ever end.
There had been a time not long ago when sleep had been a refuge for him, an escape from the insanity of his everyday life.
Now, each moment of it was a nightmare, and he found that even waking brought no relief.
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He took a walk to clear his mind, because watching Nick sleep took more out of him than he wanted to admit. Each moment seemed to hang in the air indefinitely, each breath making him fear that the next one would never come.
He knew it was ridiculous, in the rational parts of his mind that normally wouldn�t leave him alone. But somehow they remained oddly silent during those long nights when he would sit and wait for Nick to just suddenly stop.
Nick�s parents had left when he was released from the hospital, seeming to be of the opinion that once the physical scars were healed there was nothing left to care for. He had returned home to an empty apartment, and had insisted that he was going to be fine, but he didn�t turn Grissom away when he showed up that night with a pizza balancing on one arm and a stack of movies under the other, looking so ridiculously out of place that he had actually burst out laughing at the sight of him.
Grissom had fallen asleep halfway through the first movie, and when he apologized in the morning he tried not to notice the shadow in Nick�s eyes when he replied that it was nice to be able to hear someone else alive in the apartment when he fell asleep.
Neither of them spoke of the nightmares, not that morning, and not since, but each time Nick woke screaming, he found himself being comforted and put back to bed by strong hands and a steady voice. It was only once he had fallen back to sleep that Grissom allowed himself to sink down onto the couch and bury his face in his trembling hands.
Tonight the air was cool on his face, and he listened to the rush of far off cars and the wail of a distant siren as he made his way back to the door. A part of him wanted to stay outside, stay free of that apartment with its stifling demons, but that was the part that he tried hard not to listen to, so he pushed open the door and let himself back in.
The sound of choked sobs from the bedroom was the only welcome he received.
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He heard Grissom before he saw him, heard the quiet click of the latch, then the footfalls that were hurried but not quite running, stopping at his side.
He didn�t raise his head from his knees, didn�t open his clenched eyes, because what was the point? What was there to see but darkness?
As if from a distance, he felt those familiar hands on his shoulders, grounding him. That voice that he wanted so badly to believe told him that he was safe, he was home, he was going to be ok, and something made him laugh, a harsh and bitter sound that echoed in the empty room.
�Going to be ok,� he repeated, as if it were a joke, as if he was trying to find the humor in it. �You don�t know that. You don�t know that I�m not going to wake up like this every night for the rest of my life. You say I�m home, I�m safe, like those words are supposed to mean something to me anymore, like�� he choked off his words, raking his fingers through his hair and pulling away from Grissom�s hands. �You don�t know,� he repeated.
�No, I don�t.� The words were quiet and he was torn between irrational disappointment at hearing this man admit that there were things even he couldn�t figure out and gratitude that he at least didn�t feel the need to lie about it. �I don�t know what you�re going through,� he heard Grissom continue, and he wanted to scream that�s damn right you don�t and you never could and why the hell can�t you do anything to help me? but he didn�t, because he couldn�t afford to alienate people, especially not now, especially not him.
�I do know that you�re in a million different kinds of pain right now. And I know that you�re going to get better. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not this month. But it�ll happen. You just have to let go of it, a little at a time. You can�t keep it all with you, not all the time. It�ll tear you up inside, just like it�s doing now.�
�So you expect me to what? Just forget it ever happened?� he tried to keep the bitterness from his voice, but failed. �It�s not something I can just turn on and off, you know. It�s not like I�m choosing this.�
�Clearly,� Grissom replied dryly, and it almost brought a smile to his lips, but not quite. �Here, lie down,� he said, reaching onto the floor to pick up Nick�s pillow and set it back into place. Nick did, uneasily, and noticed as he slid back between the sheets that he was almost breathing normally again. �I know you, Nick,� he said, seemingly unconnected to anything, and Nick peered up at him, waiting for the continuation of the thought. �And I know that you�re strong. Probably the strongest of all of us. That�s how I know that you�ll get through this. Some morning you�re going to wake up and realize that you hadn�t had a nightmare the night before. That�s when you�ll know that you�re healing.�
�You know, Warrick said something to me the other day when he was here, and it scared the hell out of me.�
Grissom leaned forward a little. �What was it?�
�He said that if it had been him�� but he didn�t continue because Grissom cut him off with a nod.
�He said that to you?�
�Yeah.� He felt his eyelids drooping a little and knew that he was getting tired, knew that soon enough he�d be back in the nightmare. He fought off the sensation. �And it scared me, you know? Because I always thought he was�� he trailed off and shrugged. �Too damn stubborn for that, I guess,� he said with a hollow little laugh.
�He is. He underestimates himself.� He stood up from the side of the bed, stretching. �So do you,� he added, and the light spilling in from the living room was too dim for Nick to tell if he was smiling, but he thought he heard it in his voice. �I�ll be right out here,� he said as he closed the door halfway behind him, leaving it so that some of the light still trickled in.
�Night, Gris,� Nick called, already feeling sleep engulfing the edges of his consciousness.
�Good night, Nick,� he heard just before he drifted off. �Sleep well.�
And for the first time in a long time, he did.