Title: Twelve Things Nick Stokes Didn't Do
Author: VicXntric
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: none
Category: angst, dark
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: post-Grave Danger
Summary: See title. Not a happy ficlet.
Disclaimer: So not mine. Will put back only slightly damaged.
A/N: I was working on something else entirely, but this wouldn't go away.

He didn't know why his parents were in Vegas looking so haggard.
"Why am I in the hospital?" he asked and was horrified when his mother fled the room in tears.

He didn't flinch when doctors descended and asked dozens of simple but relentless questions.
Why wouldn't anyone tell him whether he got the answers right or not?

He didn't understand why Catherine was dealing with his parents and the doctors when she wasn't even his supervisor.
"Is Gris okay?" he asked and Grissom appeared at his bedside within the quarter-hour.

He didn't recall results of their investigation.
"Did you ID the skeleton?" he asked Grissom. "Are the homeowners suspects?" And Grissom looked away for so long that Nick never asked again.

He didn't believe the doctors when they finally told him that it was actually five years later than he'd thought.
"What the hell happened?" he asked, and watched everyone exchange uncomfortable looks.

He didn't see why "trauma-induced amnesia" should keep him in the hospital when he was perfectly fine physically.
After he'd said so enough times, the doctors reluctantly agreed to release him.

He didn't recognize the townhouse everyone referred to as "your place."
"You moved about three years ago," Warrick told him. "You had a good reason."

He didn't remember half of his visitors. They were all so obviously concerned that Nick welcomed them, and (re)made friends with his usual ease.

He didn't want to sit at home doing nothing useful.
"Couldn't I just work in the lab?" he asked after three months. The supervisors reluctantly agreed to let him attempt some part-time work.

He didn't like the layout of the lab. It was strange, even to him, because he'd never minded the glass walls before.

He didn't move when several random ants crawled out of a blanket he was examining for trace.
There was roaring in his ears and flashes in his head. Twenty-four hours of the past five years suddenly forced their way into his mind.

He didn't stop screaming until they shot him up with enough sedative to bring down someone three times his size.

End