Title: Spaces
By: cassie_jamie
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: PG
Summary: Afterwards.

(Spoilers for 5x24/25: Grave Danger.)

He'd never admitted to anyone how much he'd hated enclosed spaces. Closets, boxes, places and things like that which he could handle in the lab but not anywhere else. Crime scenes sometimes, though mostly he'd learned to set the fear aside for the sake of the victim.

When he opened his eyes and found himself buried six feet under in a clear box, however, he'd hoped he was dreaming but alas, it was real. The desert weather creeping through the dirt to him, the fan his only source of continuous air despite the game someone had played with the light. For a minute, Nick Stokes contemplated death when he looked past his feet.

Thoughts of his funeral floated through his brain and he had wondered if Warrick or Grissom would do the eulogy. Those momentary notions turned his mind to his family, the one in Texas and the one in Vegas. He'd doubted his teammates would let him die without a fight and that was all he'd had to keep him from completely freaking out.

He'd shot out the light instead of eating his own gun.

Toward the end, hours after being locked away in the plexiglass coffin, Nick had endured being eaten by fire ants and the cramped space and Grissom was there, calling him Pancho and holding his hand when the lid was lifted. He knew Warrick was there, but Grissom was telling him what to do and he had to pay attention.

Carabineers, rope, dirt; it passed in a blur and he'd laid on the ground shaking with the happiness of not being dead despite being weak from a lack of both food and water. There'd been warm hands touching him and then Grissom was talking to him again.

Murmurs of things he'd heard not so long before like "I love you." His heart was pounding, holding onto Grissom's wrist with one hand as the paramedics got him onto a stretcher. He almost asked about going to the hospital but Nick knew Grissom's Tahoe was likely not far and he listened to Gil's words, "I'll be there, okay, Pancho? I'll be there in a little while."

And Nick was loaded into the ambulance with hopes to be in his bed that night. He didn't want to be in a hospital with his parents hovering or his teammates acting like everything was okay. They closed the doors of the vehicle and he let himself fall asleep, eyes closing quite willingly.

They woke him at the hospital, nurses asking him for things like his name and stripping him of his clothing so doctors with blissfully cold hands could examine him. There was no finesse and no dignity as they checked out every inch of skin, looking for more injuries than there were.

Someone announced that he'd be alright with time and medication and they carted him off to a room before Nick could even ask for one of his friends. He was settled into a room of a decent size with a window that had a view of the ER doors, but if he kept himself laying down and looking up, he could only see the dark night sky.

His mother came first, an hour after he'd been brought in, and held him tighter than she had when he was a sick child. His father wasn't far behind, holding on to a new set of soft pajama and looking older than he really was.

"Oh, look at you. All mucky." His mother whispered, pulling out a handkerchief. She dabbed it on her tongue and wiped his face, mindful of the raised bite wounds. The doctors swore they'd go away relatively quickly but a mother never trusted anyone when it came to their baby and she worried about scars though she didn't say a word aloud of it.

"Nurses said I can have a shower soon, Mom." He choked back. Nick's throat was just mildly sore and he asked for some water, drinking every drop of the cup his father brought him. When he finished, the Judge set the plastic-covered pajamas into his son's lap and took the cup, fiddling with it as Nick regarded the clothing.

They were dark blue and green, a sort of subtle plaid and a lightweight flannel. He reached for the opening to pull the pajamas out and possibly get the shirt on over the scrubs but he couldn't make his hands work they way he wanted and his father took it without a word. He sat on the bed's edge and tugged the shirt from the pants, setting it on Nick's shoulders.

Grissom appeared that minute and Nick nearly leapt out of the bed at him, hugging him around the waist and burying his face in his lover's stomach. He cared little if his parents were upset; hands caressed his hair and his father said something that made him look up. His mother was giving them a small smile and his father told him, "We were worried that we might have to leave you here alone, but I guess you haven't been alone for some time now."

Nick nodded, "Gil, Mom. Gil, Dad." He muttered, growing more tired as the energy he'd built up from his nap dwindled.

"Go to sleep, Pancho." His father ran one hand through his hair and Nick allowed himself to fall into the darkness, knowing there would be sunlight when he woke.