Work Text:
Enduring
by Perpetual Motion
He wakes up screaming, fingers grabbing at the sheets. After the really bad dreams, he wakes up clawing at his skin. He only calms down when Gil presses their palms together and reminds him that he's safe.
The lab is a dangerous place now. All Nick sees is all the things crowding the glass. He writes his lab notes in the hallway because it, at least, leads somewhere. The lab is just a huge box that could crack and collapse. Gil hasn't figured out how to fix that, yet.
He sees a shrink twice a week and tells him every last detail. He talks about how he almost shot himself even after he saw Warrick because it seemed like he would be easier to deal with dead rather than damaged. The shrink offers a prescription for sleeping pills, but Nick turns them down. If he's not dreaming, he explains, then he won't know when the dreams stop, and when the dreams stop, Nick knows it'll mean a step in his recovery. The shrink says the offer's open and puts the prescription in his session notes.
On the full-out hellish nights when Nick has to sleep in the middle of the living room floor to stop the claustrophobia, Gil will put on the Discovery Channel, lay on the couch, and keep reassuring Nick that he just wants to watch a little television. One night, a documentary about fire ants comes on, and Nick spends twenty minutes curled up in a ball while Gil stands across the room and offers the only comfort he can to a Nick that can not be touched. Gil keeps talking until Nick falls asleep, and then he goes back to his spot on the couch. He wants to curl up beside Nick, wrap an arm around his chest, and whisper hope in his ear, but the last time he tried on a night like this, Nick landed a heel to his thigh. The pain hadn't hurt Gil as much as the look in Nick's eyes. Nick still thinks he is a disappointment, and he is too broken and raw to believe anything else for the time being.
Gil lies awake and tries to figure out what else can be done. Therapy's happening, Nick's trying, and everyone else is being patient. There's nothing more that can be done, and as Gil watches Nick start to flinch from invisible bites in his sleep, he swears to himself that he'll see his Nick again. This damaged shell has the look, but not the feel, and if Gil can save a man from three kinds of death, he can certainly save him from himself.
He hopes.
end