This is a series of 6 fairly short chapters based on a song called "Lazarus" by Carrie Newcomer. You can check out the entire lyrics and hear part of the song on her web site (.com), and I highly recommend that you do!

The song talks about Lazarus after he was raised from the dead and how he felt out of place afterward, like he didn't belong anywhere anymore, like he wasn't dead OR alive now, and how people looked at him in different ways and treated him differently…like he was to be pitied, feared, etc.

I thought that was a very interesting subject matter to delve into, and Carrie did a great job. It's a beautiful song. And then I thought that perhaps it was a bit like that for Nick after "Grave Danger", so I decided to explore that a bit. And this is the result.

Portions of the song lyrics are presented throughout in italics where they parallel what is going on in the chapter. I think they fit perfectly with some of the feelings Nick and his co-workers might have been having.

I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1

Warrick

I'm the one that he saved

I'm the one that he raised

From the dark quiet sleep

From the peace of the grave

"How can you be so calm about all this, man?"

Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes were sitting across from each other at a table in the lab's break room having lunch. For what seemed like the hundredth time since "The Walter Gordon Case", as everyone called it, Warrick had tried to get Nick to talk about it, to tell him something…anything…about how it felt to be that close to death. But Nick was shrugging him off again.

"What do you mean?" Nick replied.

"I mean a flip of a coin put you suffocating underground and nearly eaten alive. How can you be so cool about it?"

"What do you want me to do, Warrick? Mope around and feel sorry for myself? It's over." He took another bite of his sandwich. "Why are you so worked up over it anyway?"

Warrick was growing more agitated by the minute. "Because, man! A flip of a fucking coin…if I had lost that toss I'd be dead now! I don't know about you, but that bothers me!"

Nick continued to munch on his sandwich, nonplussed and a bit confused. "Why would you be dead? I'm not dead."

Warrick shook his head, exasperated by Nick's lack of understanding. His voice was quiet, but shaking as he responded, "Because. I would have taken myself out within the first thirty minutes."

Nick laughed. "No, you wouldn't have!"

"Don't say that!" Warrick exploded. "Why does everybody say that?! You don't know. You don't know how I would have felt or what I would have done!"

In a flash, Nick's demeanor changed. His smile disappeared and darkness crossed his face. It was as though storm clouds had raced in, hiding the bright sun of his façade. His deep brown eyes narrowed as he leaned in close to Warrick and spat out, "Are you fucking crazy?"

Warrick was taken aback by the sudden change and the venom in Nick's voice. He pulled back as if Nick had struck him with his fist instead of his words. A fist would have hurt less.

Nick continued, "You don't think Iknow how you would have felt? Idon't know?! If I don't know, then who the fuck does? How many other buddies do you have that have been buried alive? You don't think I wanted to do it? Hell, you found me with my gun under my chin!"

"Yeah, but…"

"Yeah, but…yeah, but…" he mimicked Warrick. "That was after nearly 24 hours, right?" His voice was getting tighter, his eyes misting up. "Jesus, Warrick…I must have put my hand on that gun a hundred times; every time the light came on and the fan quit running; every time the plastic creaked like it was gonna give way; every time a fucking hallucination made me think I was already dead. And then…then…"

"I know. I know, man," Warrick interrupted, looking down at the table and then up at the ceiling…anything to avoid Nick's eyes.

"Shut the fuck up! You don't know! You don't!" Nick yelled. As the rage boiled and overflowed, he jumped up, violently knocking his chair over. He leaned over the table, his face so close to the other man that Warrick couldn't help but look him in the eyes. "And then God really one-upped himself, didn't he? The damned ants came in. And I wanted to reach for the gun again, but I couldn't because…it hurt so bad. So I just laid there and took it, like I always do, right?" He laughed a small laugh, but his expression betrayed his true emotions. He was angry and frustrated and disgusted with himself. "I couldn't even do the one thing that would end the pain. So you know what, Warrick? If you could have done it, then bravo, man. Bravo."

Nick backed away from Warrick and turned his back to him, lowering his head.

"So why didn't you do it?" Warrick whispered.

Nick shook his head slowly, his back still to Warrick. His mind flooded with all the reasons he should have done it, all the reasons he wanted to do it, and all the reasons why he couldn't do it. He was slowly losing his composure as everything came back to him. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to have to think about this, to process this. Especially not here. Not now. But Warrick was still behind him, waiting for an answer, and this time he wasn't going away.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Nick turned to face his friend. Their eyes met for a moment before Nick shifted his gaze to the floor. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling before speaking. "I just…I couldn't…" He let out a heavy sigh and decided to just get it over with. "I didn't want you guys to find me like that. I didn't want my parents to have to see me like that either, nothing left, just blown away. I couldn't put them through that. And…I just…I didn't want anyone to think I gave up."

His head still bowed, Nick sniffed a little and brought his hand up to wipe away one escaped tear from his cheek. He took a deep breath and looked up at Warrick again, smiled and shrugged. "That's it," he said, chuckling a little, his eyes still moist. "That's all." He let out a deep breath and began gathering up the remnants of his lunch. "C'mon…we need to get back to work."

Warrick sat at the table, still stunned by the outburst. "Hey, Nick…I'm sorry, man. I…I didn't mean to…you know…"

"It's all right," Nick replied without looking up as he continued to clear the table.

"No, it's not. Would you just stop for a minute? You said your piece; let me say mine."

"I don't need to hear it, Warrick," Nick said, putting his trash in his lunch bag and reaching for a crumpled napkin. "Keep your guilt to yourself, okay?"

Warrick grabbed Nick's arm as he was picking up the napkin. "Just STOP it! Will you just stop and listen to me for a minute?"

Nick looked up, startled and angry. Instinct nearly made him jerk his arm away from Warrick and punch him in the face. Instead, he threw the bag in the trash, picked up his overturned chair, and sat down across from his friend. He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest, a move that both protected and distanced him from Warrick. "Fine. Say it. Tell me how bad you feel that it was me and not you. Tell me how you wish you'd lost that coin toss or had let me taken the other run. Tell me how you'd trade places with me if you could."

"That's just it," Warrick responded, biting his lower lip as he looked down at the table and whispered, "I wouldn't."

"Wouldn't? Wouldn't what?"

Warrick looked back up at Nick and into his eyes which had dilated to the point of total darkness. "I wouldn't trade places with you."

Shocked, but intrigued, Nick spoke softly. "Go on."

"I know it's wrong. I know the good friend is supposed to wish it was him, to want to sacrifice himself to save his partner, but…" Warrick stopped and shook his head. "Jesus! All I could think about while you were gone was 'Thank God it wasn't me'."

Warrick looked up to gauge Nick's reaction before continuing. Seeing that Nick was still listening, he felt he could go on. He might as well. There was nothing left to lose at this point. "I know I wouldn't have lasted. I know I would be dead now if that had been me. I don't care if you wanted to do it and couldn't. That's where we're different. I wouldn't have thought about anyone else but myself." He laughed. "But that's you, right? That's good ol' Nick Stokes, always thinking about everyone else, never thinking of himself."

By now Nick was biting his tongue and fighting to stay seated. His heart rate was picking up as he felt anger welling inside of him, but damn it…he couldn't argue with what Warrick had said. It was true. Even now, as he listened to the tirade about his character, he was empathizing with Warrick. Typical, Stokes, he thought. Typical.

His friend continued, "But not Warrick. No, not hard-ass, gambling, drinking, womanizing, ball-busting, thoughtless, selfish Warrick. I wouldn't have given a shit about anything or anyone but myself and ending it all. Everybody thinks…they think…yeah, Warrick's feeling guilty 'cause he thinks it should have been him." He looked Nick directly in the eyes again. "But I'm feeling guilty because…I'm glad it was you and not me."

An awkward moment of silence ensued as they sat looking at each other across the table. Warrick desperately wanted to look away, but held his gaze until Nick finally spoke. "I'm glad too."

All of the chapters are finished. They just need tweaking, so it won't be long between updates.

Thanks to my buddy in all things artistic, Egeria, for her input, encouragement, and eagle eyes! :-) Without her, this might never have gotten finished!