A.N.: OK, I may be wading in way beyond my depth with the concepts I'm attempting here, so be patient with me... and don't laugh too hard if the whole thing just ends up seeming ridiculous! lol
I've just been having some weird dreams lately and this idea just sort of came to me. Remember: Suspension of disbelief is always key in my stories! ;) I'm starting off broadly, but it will narrow down eventually... I hope?
"It makes no sense. There's no sign of this guy and yet 10 people claim he was here." Nick frowned at Greg and looked around the small room they stood in. "No fingerprints, no shoe prints, no trace of any kind..."
"Don't witnesses usually screw up when they report what they saw?" Greg queried.
"Yeah, but it's not normally like this. They report the suspect as too short, too tall, wrong coloured clothes... but it's highly unlikely that 10 people are going to say they saw a man dressed in black go into a room and not come back out." He smirked at Greg. "Unless we're dealing with the ghost of Johnny Cash."
Greg laughed and then looked around some more. "Well, no visible exits... no damage to the walls or carpeting... I don't know. I say we pull up the carpet and see if there's a trap door or something."
Nick tilted his head to the side. "Feel free. I'm going to go talk to that witness Vega's quizzing again."
Greg smirked at Nick. "Gee, thanks for your assistance. No, don't worry about me. I'll just pull all this hideous shag carpeting up all by myself."
Nick grinned back over his shoulder as he departed. "Hey, it was your idea man. And you're a strapping young lad. You can handle it."
Greg grinned to himself as he dug in with both hands.
The truth was, he was just happy that Nick had been acting a little more like his old self in the last couple of days. His friend had been understandably withdrawn since his ordeal, but when anybody had tried to "be there" for him, he'd blown them off or gotten annoyed at the extra attention.
At first he'd seemed OK with everyone's concern, and possibly even a little grateful, but after a while he'd clearly had enough. Greg could understand that, though. It would probably get on anybody's nerves after a while.
But depite his protests that he was fine, Nick still frequently seemed like a different guy sometimes. A little harder to talk to, a little more distant.
Catherine's words to him and Sara from weeks past came back to him: "All you can do is give him time and be there if he does need you. Don't push it."
Simple words and pretty much common sense, but true nonethless.
Greg began to pry the offensive carpet from under the baseboard.
Nick walked through the labs and headed to where Hodges was eyeing him carefully.
"You got something for me, Hodges or do you just like my shirt?" Nick asked wryly.
"Well, cerulean blue definitely works for you... but actually I have the results on that substance in your D.B's wound."
"And?"
"Very small glass beads."
Nick looked unimpressed. "Small glass beads? That's it? Hell, I told you that when I brought them in."
Hodges looked at him blandly. "Well, maybe you're smarter than you think then." He handed Nick the results sheet and headed for the doorway. "Just don't go gunning for my job, that's all I ask." He smirked his wry smile and disappeared around the corner.
Nick grinned despite himself.
"Don't beat a dead horse, Warrick." Sara pulled the cobwebs out of her hair impatiently.
"Look, I'm just sayin'-"
"Yeah, yeah... You've been 'just sayin'' for 5 minutes already. I screamed, OK. Get over it."
"Sorry, Sidle. I just didn't think there was anything that scared you."
"Well, big spiders suddenly crawling over my face make me scream. Go figure. I'd like to see you handle it any better."
Warrick just grinned, refusing to admit she was probably right. But at least his yell would be less... girly.
They walked out of the old house dustier than when they'd entered, but with nothing else to show for their time inside.
Sara sighed as they surveyed the unoccupied, run-down bungalow. "Warrick, why are we even here? Are we supposed to be Ghostbusters now or something?"
Warrick chuckled. "Look, they said a guy in white, not a guy in a white sheet."
"Either way... Even if a guy with 'something that looked like blood' on his back ran in here, he probably just went straight out the back door. There are a million footprints in there and probably at least that many fingerprints."
Warrick looked bemused. "Yeah, I processed here last year when they busted that meth lab. Doesn't look like it's been lived in since then, or at least not officially. I bet every print we do find is likely in AFIS anyway... and most of them are probably behind bars already."
Sara shook her head, exasperated. "There's no point in us being here. We don't even know if there's been a crime committed."
Warrick shrugged. Sara had never been one not to complain when she felt the urge, that was for sure. Except now he was sort of enjoying it. It was nice to have the team back together, and he had to admit he'd missed working with her, quirks and all. She was a damned fine CSI.
Still, in the back of his mind he wished he was working with Nick... a compulsion he felt all too regularly these days. He knew deep down that the flip of a coin had not determined Nick's fate, but still he felt the guilt. The guilt of the one who got away.
And he also knew that his lingering need to look out for one of his closest friends was the exact reason why he wasn't working with Nick right now. You could say a lot of things about Grissom's people skills, but his perception of Nick's needs right now seemed a bit uncanny. And Warrick knew his boss's instincts were dead on this time: Nick didn't need him watching over him all the time. The fact that he couldn't seem to help himself made switching off the partnerings all the more logical, as much as it made him a bit antsy.
But no more antsy than Nick had seemed the last time Warrick had been paired with him. Clearly Nick was getting weary of the brotherly concern, as subtle asWarrick had tried to be about it.
I gotta let him be. There's nothing more I can do for him.
He stared back at Sara. "Tell that officer we're out of here. I need food, and you're buying."
Sara was about to protest when she caught the sparkle in Warrick's eye. "You got it, boss."
Warrick started to dial his cell phone to let Grissom know they were finished when Sara flashed him a bright smile. "Who ya gonna call?"
Catherine was pissed. The suspect was giving her attitude and even when she was in a good mood, she despised it when people gave her attitude. And she was not in a good mood today.
Brass watched as her temper began to emulate her hair colour, hiding a grin.
Well, I better diffuse this before the explosion.
"Well, Mr. Meyer... I guess we'll be in touch. And I would strongly suggest you don't leave town."
Meyer stood up and Catherine looked at Brass in astonishment as the man slipped out the door and down the corridor. "Wha... You're just letting him go? Just like that?"
"We can't hold him, Catherine. You know that."
"We could have questioned him more-"
"He talking in circles. The only thing we've learned is that he's an even bigger asshole than we first assumed, and that he knows how to push your buttons."
She was about to give him a piece of her mind, but she stopped as she realized he was right. A smile played across her lips. "Yeah, he was pissing me off."
"And I have the cure. Breakfast. On me."
"Why Jim, is this a date?" She batted her eyelashes coyly and Brass smirked back at her.
"Sorry Catherine, I'm out of your league."
Catherine's brows went up in amusement but she held her tongue and followed the man out to the parking lot.
Warrick chuckled as he spotted Brass and Catherine at a table in the diner. He and Sara made their way over and pulled out a couple chairs.
Sara grinned. "It's a good thing none of us are being investigated for anything. Our patterns are a little too predictable."
The others laughed and they all settled into their comfortable routine of breakfast table banter. Catherine felt more relaxed than she had in ages.
Ever since the team had been reassembled, she'd been torn between her dismay at no longer being a supervisor (but with the new title of Lead Hand for Grissom, and no cut in her salary) and content to be back on familiar ground, working with the old crew. She knew why she'd initially accepted the proposed demotion: she hadn't even been able to consider abandoning Nick after what he'd been through.
Still, she'd spent a lot of years doing what she did best, and that was looking out for number one, and every fibre of her being had revolted at the idea of letting the superviser position slip through her fingers. But she'd once told Grissom that, like it or not, these people he worked with were building a family around him. And she was part of that family... and so was Nick.
So she'd weighed her options and had finally agreed to take the Lead Hand position. And as it was, Grissom pretty much let her do her own thing anyway. He'd never said it, but she knew he was thankful to have her working his shift again.
She looked up as Greg appeared in the doorway and sauntered over towards them.
"Well, well. If it isn't wonder boy. Done your case?"
He sat down tiredly beside Sara, grinning shyly at her but not realizing it. "Nah. But we're at a dead end and we need to regroup. Gonna hit it next shift."
Sara looked back towards the door, disappointed that Nick hadn't followed her young colleague into the diner. Brass voicedthe question for her.
"Where's Nick?"
"He wanted to check back at the lab and then head home."
An uneasy silence fell over the group for a moment. Nick rarely joined them anymore and they all felt the hole his absence left.
Brass tried to lighten the mood. "Just as well... My stomach couldn't handle watching the guy plow through a plate of refried beans. I'm feeling a little delicate."
They all roared with laughter and began to ease back into their comfortable routine once more. Nick was slowly getting bac k into his groove and if it took a little longer, well... They would all give him time.
Sara chewed her bottom lip, thinking.
I just wish he'd join in the way he used to.
And then she pushed the thought away, annoyed at her own selfishness. And surprised at how much she missed the old Nick... missed him, really.
The last time they'd spoken, they'd had a bit of an argument. That in itself wasn't unusual- they often had differing opinions at work. But this time, Sara had felt the need to pull her punches. She was still worried about stressing him out. Unfortunately, Nick had recognized it and she could tell he knew. He hadn't actually said anything, but when he'd frowned at her and shaken his head before walking away, she'd known he wasn't dismayed about the disagreement. He was annoyed at being treated with kid gloves once again. But she couldn't seem to help herself. She just really didn't want to cause him anymore grief. Was that so wrong?
She drew in a deep breath and tried to forget about it.
Tomorrow's another day. I'll act differently next time.
Then she smiled inwardly.
Yeah, right Sidle. Yeah right. You're just going to suddenly stop worrying about the guy.
She was distracted from her thoughts as she caught Greg smiling at her from the corner of her eye.
"What are you grinning at?"
The waitress appeared and drew his gaze away as he replied, attempting to sound casual.
"Nothing."
He ordered an orange juice and turned back to her, smiling innocuously.