CSI: Crime Scene Investigators
The Art of Going Insane
By A. Rhea King

Chapter 1

Nick surprised everyone when he finally came around with full cognitive and mechanical abilities and was his old, mellow, easy-going self. Well, maybe not entirely himself. He became ambidextrous mostly because his right arm was broken. He sometimes said or wrote words and people's names backwards. And the nurses reported he was talking to himself, something no one that knew him had ever seen him do.

He was missing some long-term memories.

The details of Nigel Crane stalking him were sketchy. The twenty-four hours he spent buried alive were, to him, just random scenes of a horror movie. No one tried to convince him otherwise; they all agreed that losing those memories were probably best for him. A good portion of his childhood was gone, including why he had such a profound hatred of clowns.

His education – or most of it – was intact, but memories from high school and college were scattered – a brief moment here, a person's face but no name there, a faceless name here. Of all the girls he'd ever dated, only two remained; the rest had disappeared into a black abyss.

The DA was relieved when Nick had complete recall of what had happened in the tunnels. At least Daniel and Shania wouldn't continue murdering. But it was those memories that made him distrustful of people he didn't know. It took his frat brother's three days to convince Nick he knew them. He remembered his sister's and brother's names, but their faces were strangers when they came to visit the first couple of times. He didn't believe them until his parents arrived with a photo album and proved these now-strangers were his siblings.

There was one memory, however, that he had full recall of, but was letting everyone think he'd forgotten.

"Warrick's dead?" Nick asked Grissom for the fourth time.

Nick lay on his side, staring wide-eyed at Grissom. Everyone else had to go home or back to work, so Grissom had flown in four days ago to continue helping Nick reconnect with his past. Unlike everyone else, he didn't feel he should shield Nick from anything. Nick appreciated that, especially now. He wasn't admitting to anyone that he remembered seeing Warrick dead in Grissom's arms, that remembered the funeral, that he knew exactly where his friend was buried, and recalled how very, very close he'd come to killing the ex-Under Sheriff. Those memories felt wrong and right now he needed Grissom's confirmation that Warrick was dead. Perhaps if he had that, then the demon that was haunting him would go away.

Grissom nodded.

"When… How? How did he die?"

"The undersheriff shot him to death after he'd been arrested. Do you remember him being arrested?"

Nick looked away from Grissom to a chair in the corner. Grissom looked there too, then back at Nick.

"You keep looking over there, Nick. Why?"

Nick looked up at him.

"What?"

"Why do you keep looking at the chair over there?"

Grissom pointed at the chair. Nick glanced at it, quickly looking away.

"Nothing. I'm just thinking."

Grissom smiled. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Again."

Nick nodded. He closed his eyes, shaking his head just slightly.

"Why won't you leave?" escaped in a whisper, but Nick couldn't take it back once it had been said. He held his breath, waiting to see what Grissom would do with it.

Grissom didn't appear offended or question it. He stood, patting Nick's good forearm. "We've been working for hours. You're probably tired, aren't you?"

Nick nodded.

"Okay. I'll go. I'll come back tonight. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

Nick shook his head. He'd narrowly escaped Grissom finding out the truth he was hiding from everyone.

"Are you sure? The food's good here, but…"

Nick smiled, looking at him. "A real cheeseburger would be nice. With onions I can see."

Grissom nodded. "Done. I'll be back in time for dinner."

Nick nodded. Grissom stood up, grabbed his jacket off the chair in the corner. Nick listened to him leave, waited to make sure he was really alone. Then his eyes drifted to the chair where Warrick sat, grinning.

"Red rover, red rover. Send Nick's memories right over," Warrick joked.

Nick closed his eyes as hot tears of shame welled up. He whispered, "You need to go away."

"You're not ready to let that happen. I'm in for the duration."

His deepest, most guarded fear was coming true. He had an uncle, one that was only whispered about, who was victim of a genetic disease passed down through the paternal side of his family, one that had been in the family as long as anyone could remember. It claimed someone every generation. His father's brother had been their generation's victim. And now Nick was his generation's victim. How long could he last before he couldn't hide his insanity anymore? How long before, like his uncle, he began drinking heavily, cutting himself, driving his car off the road, trying to suffocate or drown himself, all in attempt to silence the voice in his head?

"You're being a drama queen, Nicky. You aren't crazy. Just a little off kilter," Warrick told him. "We won't go there."

Nick cried harder, covering his ears with his hands. How long before this demon drove him to all of this? Just like his uncle's dead wife had.

#

Nick sat in the conference room, watching people outside pass by. Many of them flashed him a smile or gave him a wave. He returned it. He felt comfortable. He was glad to be back in the building.

"Has Tori been working out? Her legs look nice."

Nick let his eyes slide to the side, focusing on the hallucination of Warrick across the table. He was watching the people too. Until Nick's eyes stopped on him. Then he grinned at his human partner.

"Go away," Nick whispered. "I have to get through this or I'm not going to have a job!"

Warrick leaned on the table. "So then make me."

Before Nick could answer the door opened. He turned his head, watching Catherine enter. Nick stood.

"Ready?" she asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"You'll be fine, Nick. It's just twenty minutes and she's just making sure all the gears are working up there?" Catherine laid a gentle hand on Nick's head.

There was a moment of silence. Nick could see she was taken back to some memory that made her eyes water.

"Say something!" Warrick ordered, appearing next to Nick.

"We should go. The sooner I convince her, the sooner I get back to work."

Catherine smiled, dropping her hand. "Yep. She's in interview room B. Can I walk with you? Do you mind?"

"I don't mind, but I'm not holding your hand."

Catherine laughed. She walked to the door, opening it for him. "Back one day and already you're being a pain."

Nick grinned, leaving the room. In the hall he kept passing Warrick, but hallucinations didn't follow normal rules of gravity or time and space. He moved wherever it was the most inconvenient for Nick. That thought made Nick suddenly freeze outside the interview room. It was three minutes before Catherine said something, but it felt like hours.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Nick shook the fear, smiling. "Sorry. I got lost in a thought for minute there."

Catherine patted his shoulder. "You'll do fine. We'll go have lunch when you're done. Come find me."

Nick watched her walk away. He looked through the window in the door at the psychologist sitting at the table. And Warrick standing by it, waving him in. Nick swallowed. He entered the room on a prayer he'd be able to ignore Warrick long enough to pass his psych evaluation.