A/N: I was watching GraveDanger today, and I realized that Cath and Warrick were the only ones to ride with Nick when the ambulance took him to hospital at the end of the episode. And I couldn't help but think there might be a very good reason for that. So this is what I came up with. I hope you'll like it! It's my first CSI fic, so please leave me a review. Even if you didn't like it! Just let me know why! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Else, Grissom wouldn't have left.

Nick was still feeling more than sore enough when he woke up in his hospital bed, covered in clean, white sheets.

The sound of two soft voices reached his ears. Straining, he tried to make out what they were saying.

"It's okay, Warrick. You need to go home and be with Tina right now. I'll stay with him," a female voice spoke.

He quickly identified it as being Catherine's, especially since he remembered her being with him during the ride in the ambulance, next to his best friend Warrick.

It calmed Nick down somewhat that he still had some memories from that ride. At least he could be sure the whole ordeal wouldn't leave him any permanent physical injuries.

"Thanks, Cath. It's just… He's my man, you know? I don't want to leave him behind like this, without at least telling him where I'm going. I don't want him to think I baled on him, you know?" Warrick said.

Man, how could he ever think that? The guy had dug him up, for Christ's sake! The first thing he'd seen when the earth was lifted from that damn bow he'd been in, was his face!

"He won't think that. He's going to be too happy you pulled him out of there to think of anything else. Besides, he's going to need you. It wouldn't do for you to fall into pieces when he needs you the most," she reminded him.

Nick was glad Cath was talking some sense into Warrick. He had always been someone who didn't let go of cases easily, even after they'd been solves. He would go to great lengths to bring their suspects to justice. And he ended up forgetting about himself when he did.

"Alright, I'm off then. Tell him I'll be here to see him first thing tomorrow. And he'd better not be trying to get the nurses to release him, or he'll be in serious trouble," Warrick said.

Actually, getting out of the hospital wasn't exactly on Nick's mind yet. Maybe it was because of how tired he was feeling, or how much pain he was still in. Maybe it were the images that threatened to appear in front of his eyes when he closed them. But he knew this wasn't a time to take risks.

Finally opening his eyes, he blinked rapidly a few times. The light was brighter than he had expected, but a nice change to the darkness he had spend his last hours in.

Just as he made to turn his head, Catherine walked into his room.

"Hi there," she said.

There was a soft smile on her face, the relief that he was awake clearly evident in her features as well.

"Hi," he said, his voice still a little raspy.

Catherine sat down in the chair next to her bed. He could tell she was dying to touch him, to convince herself that he was really there, by the way her hand moved towards his.

"I won't break, you know," he whispered, lifting the hand she'd been willing to touch.

He smiled as he said it. The whole ordeal had been terrifying, he had to admit. He had been so afraid of dying… He could still remember how he was laying there, trying to calm his breathing just to make sure whatever air was left in the box would sustain him as long as possible. How the first thought that went through his mind had been how long have I been in here for?, knowing that he had used up a part of the air supply while he had been unconscious.

But he had refused to believe he was going to die at first. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had convinced himself that if he dared to think it, it would happen. And that had gotten him somewhere, it had calmed him down somewhat.

The only problem had been that after a while, with the light that kept going on and his increasing feeling of claustrophobia, the thought had not been enough anymore to sustain himself.

For a moment he had thought about using his gun to shoot himself, the last thirty minutes had been so torturous the only thought that had kept him sane, was that they were looking for him. They would find him.

And he had thought of her. Of Catherine. Of how much she would want to find him alive, along with Warrick. He couldn't do that to her. At least he knew Warrick would have understood, but Cath would have never forgiven herself.

"I know, Nicky… I know…" she said, in barely more than a whisper.

Looking up to meet her eyes, all the while forcing his to remain open though they were not fully used to the light, he spotted his jacket hanging over the back of the other chair in the room, a few feet behind her.

There was something about the jacket, he suddenly remembered. Something important. He just couldn't remember what…

As her hand came to rest over his, he was glad for the feeling of her skin against his, even though the ant bites still stung like hell. But he'd gladly take the pain for the feeling she was giving him, the feeling of truly being alive.

"Thanks," he said.

Somehow, Cath seemed to know what he was thanking her for. Because she smiled and rubbed her thumb over his hand.

"You're very welcome. You know I love to help out," she said, trying not to sound too relieved she could touch him.

Love…

That was it, Nick suddenly realized. Whatever was in his jacket, had something to do with love. And with her, it dawned on him a fraction of a second later. If only he could remember what…

"Cath, could you do me a favor? Grab my jacket, please?" he asked her.

She gave him a stern look which would have made him duck his head if he hadn't known her any longer.

"You're not going anywhere, you know," she firmly told him.

"Yeah, Warrick is going to make sure of that," she softly chuckled.

Catherine blinked, surprised. It was obvious she hadn't expected him to have heard the conversation taking place right outside his door, and he had caught her off guard by letting her know he had.

Nick would have shaken his head if it had been any less painful. Because it was, he opted for a different approach.

"I only heard the end of the conversation," he assured her.

Cath seemed a little more at ease now, which was strange. They hadn't been talking about anything out of the ordinary, had they? So why was she so scared of what he might have heard?

"Why do you need your jacket for if you're staying put?" she asked him.

He noticed she had dropped the subject of the conversation, and he thought it might be best not to bring it up again. So he decided to simply answer the question.

"There's something in there for you," he admitted.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but didn't say a word as she got up and walked over to the chair to get his jacket. He was glad, because he wasn't exactly sure himself what it had been he had put in there for her.

As soon as he had the jacket in his hands, he spread it out over his legs and sat a bit more upright in the bed.

He noticed immediately that there were no boxes or heavy objects in the jacket, which probably meant it had been something small. He would have to dig through the pockets, he realized.

The first pocket was empty, but in the second one he discovered a small piece of paper. It was white, had been folded in four, and had only one sentence written on it as far as he could see.

Folding it open, he made sure Cath couldn't see the words written on it from her seat next to him.

Tell Cath you love her. Nick

And suddenly it all came crashing back to him: the reason why he had written those words down, why he had put the scrap of paper in his jacket that morning.

His hand came up to support his head, which was falling forwards, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Nick, are you okay? Do I have to get someone?" she asked, the worry evident in her voice.

Although he was afraid he'd be unable to speak, he tried to, knowing Catherine needed to hear him say it before she would believe it.

"Yeah… I'm okay," he assured her.

He wiped his eyes and extended the piece of paper towards her, not bothering with folding it again as she would have to open it anyway.

She looked into his eyes, almost as if she sought permission to take the scrap of paper from him, which he granted by a barely visible head movement.

He stared intently at her face during the few seconds it took her to read the simple sentence, noticing how her lips formed the words as her eyes scanned over them and how the wheels inside her mind began to turn in order to process the words she had just read.

"Nick, what… What is this?" she asked, unsure of what was happening.

Nick found it difficult to believe how easy the words flowed out of his mouth after the time he had spent denying them.

"It's a little something a wrote for myself, something I always wanted but never dared to do, and this morning I figured I needed to pluck up the courage to say those three little words that had been on my mind for so long. So I wrote them down, folded the paper and dumped it in my pocket. I was planning to have one last look at it before the end of our shift, and then take you out for drinks at least, hopefully dinner," he admitted.

Catherine was still looking at him, but now that he had told her all of this, he could see the smile forming on her face, although there was still a little worry mingled with her happiness.

"I… I can't believe this is happening… I never even dared to dream you could ever say that, and now… I just don't know what to say…"

He was touched by the childlike innocence with which she was speaking, the way she nearly stumbled over the words she was forming, as if she suddenly was a shy teenager again, unsure of how to tell the one she loved how she really felt.

"You know, I'm so stupid for not saying anything sooner. It took all of this to make me see that. So much for being an intelligent adult," he said.

Catherine shook her head in defiance. And he was glad, because it made him feel better, more secure of himself.

"I've been in love with you for over two years now, Nick. But every day I told myself this wasn't the day. Or that you couldn't be interested in me as more than a simple friend. Somehow, I convinced myself I was going to hurt you when I said anything," she said in a small voice.

"That's not true, Cath… You could never hurt me… When I was laying here, Cath, in that box, I was so scared… My heart was beating a million miles an hour, I was sweating, I thought that any second would be my last… And do you know what I thought about to get me through?"

She shook her head a second time, playing with the fabric of Nick's bedcovers in an attempt to hide the obvious shaking of her hands.

Nick covered her hand with his, pulled it up into his lap, and held it as close as he possibly could.

"Of you. Of course I thought about Warrick, I mean, you heard what he said, I'm his man. We're best friends. But it was the image of you trying to find me, the knowledge you would never forgive yourself if you didn't find me alive, that made me hold on. I couldn't hurt you. Warrick might have said he wouldn't make it, but he would have bounced back somehow. Grissom would have, too, together with Sara. But you? You would have kept beating yourself up. And I couldn't hurt you," he whispered.

There were tears in Catherine's eyes by the time he finished speaking. He lifted his hand, brushing them away with his thumb.

"I love you," he whispered.

Catherine felt how he was pulling her towards him, and she obliged by coming closer. As soon as she was within reach, Nick softly pressed his lips to hers.

"I love you, too," she told him when the kiss had ended.

He smiled, forcing himself to move a little and pulling Cath onto the bed next to him, trying to get her as close to him as he possibly could. He sure wasn't going to let go of her anymore now that he had her. She lay her head on his shoulder, and he felt like the happiest man on earth.

But the moment was somewhat spoiled when Cath's stomach grumbled loudly, protesting against not having had any food throughout the day.

He chuckled a little when he saw her cheeks redden ever so slightly.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

He placed a hand over her abdomen as he spoke.

"Don't worry about it. I'm pretty hungry myself, actually," he told her.

Knowing he probably wasn't going to get anything until the morning, and that it wasn't going to be all that tasty, he suddenly got an idea.

"Cath?" he asked.

"Hmm?" she replied, not wanting to spoil the moment any further.

He nudged her slightly, making her lift her head and shift positions slightly to look at him.

"I may not be allowed to go out, but you are. Why don't you go and get us something to eat? I bet you'd even manage to sneak it past the doctors without trying too hard," he laughed.

She couldn't help but laugh at that herself, because Nick was probably right about that.

"But I don't really want to go," she admitted.

He realized that today had been nearly as traumatic for her as it had been for him. The only difference had been that Nick had almost lost himself, and that she had nearly lost the one she loved.

"I promise I'll be right here when you get back. Besides, that way I can still take you out to dinner. In a matter of speaking, but still," he said.

She smiled and got of the bed.

Nick watched as she picked up her jacket and shrugged it on, trying to find her wallet as he did.

Suddenly, he sniggered.

"What?" she asked, thinking she had done something to make a fool out of herself but honestly not knowing what.

He realized his mistake, but couldn't help but keep smiling.

"I just realized this must qualify as the weirdest first date ever. But it's the best one I've ever had," he told her.

Her eyes sparkled as he said that. He was going to be alright, she was sure of that now. It would take time, patience, and lots of love and trust, bur he was going to be alright, and that was what mattered.

"Yeah, I feel exactly the same way," she said to him.