Disclaimer:All characters belong to CSI and are not mine - I'm just borrowing them. I promise they will be cared for and fed and watered and returned in pristine condition (although only when Jorja Fox signs back up...) Until then they are mine to play with as I like… The Peppermill also does not belong to me.

The idea for this came from the final scene of season 6 opener 'Bodies in Motion'; so the opening 'locker room' dialogue also does not belong to me and comes directly from that episode! Although I have slightly altered Catherine's words to fit to my advantage! And this will also (eventually!) contain a minor mention of comments made in season 5 episode 'Spark of Life'. Thank you once again to kilohoku for the transcripts, which are a godsend.

Author Notes: I would like to repeatedly thank all the people who read my first CSI story Snake Bites for all their reviews and comments, which were appreciated more than you could ever know. This one is for all of you!! Rianne xXx

Stars in Motion.

By Rianne

"Can she cook? Is she a good cook? Come on, Warrick." Nick jibed as he laced up his boot. His voice taking on a wheedling quality as he found his friend's calm refusal to tell him anything even remotely interesting about his new wife bring out the inner child in him.

Warrick sighed, he was definitely sick of the questions already.

But Nick, Nick sounded like he was going to be okay. That was the next thought that popped into his head. Nick's brotherly mocking made him sound for a brief moment just like his old self again. Back before the horrors of spending too many hours buried alive at the deranged hands of Walter Gordon. He was more thankful than he could ever say to see his friend back at work, free of ant bite reactions and beginning to slowly heal.

He could even deal with all this questioning, he was so grateful to have his friend alive. So he held his tongue, unable to even jokingly tell his friend to butt out, and more importantly shut up in front of Catherine.

He had felt Catherine immediately stiffen at his side as soon as Nick had begun his happy inquisition. The tension, which had floated around her since the truth about his newlywed status had come out at the crime scene earlier, had followed her into the locker room. He had turned to see her enter and seen the flicker in her eyes as their gaze unexpectedly met, she hadn't been too happy to see him standing there. In fact her eyes had been downright thunderous.

He knew she was putting on a brave face. Keeping her back straight and her head held high. It wasn't that he was being narcissistic or anything. He too had known that something had always simmered happily between them.

Fantasy she had said, yeah, fantasy was right!

But he knew he had hurt her. Could see the way her body strained under her sleek fitted grey suit as she forced herself to look him in the eye. The last thing he had wanted was for there to be awkwardness between them. She was too important to him. Her reaction had been the one thing he had been afraid of when he had thought of telling his friends his happy news. So much so that he had said nothing to anyone, even Nick, hoping that the new band of gold, which encircled the third finger on his left hand, would suddenly become invisible in their presence.

Yet that was unfair to his wife. He loved Tina. He wanted to do this right and be a great and honourable husband and lover and friend.

And really who did he think he was kidding trying to hide something like that in plain sight when he worked with the best investigative minds in Las Vegas!

It seemed to him these days that no one could please everyone, including themselves, however hard you tried.

Finally tired of getting no response from his unusually silent friend, and not getting the hint that his sighs and glares were stressing, Nick glancing up from his laces saw Grissom heading past in the corridor.

"Hey, Grissom!" he shouted to grab his attention.

His boss wheeled to a halt in the doorway his hand reaching out to grasp the doorframe as if he had been racing so fast in his mind that he needed to reach out to steady himself and slow down his thoughts. Like a rabbit in the headlights Grissom waited, always uncertain of what was coming next when it was accompanied by a Nick Stokes smile.

"We're taking Warrick to the Peppermill to celebrate his marriage," Grissom's attention lifted to where Warrick leaned against his locker in pleasant surprise at the news.

"and to condemn his elopement." Nick continued, his voice dipping in an attempt to sound aggrieved.

"You in?" Nick invited. His grin one which was hard to resist and even the usually stoic Dr. Grissom felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. It was nice to see Nick smiling again.

"Did you invite your wife?" Came Grissom's reply, the cheeky grin finally breaking on his face, as he shook his head knowingly at Warrick. He already knew the answer.

Shaking his head in response Warrick could not help but break into a smile himself. His words brimmed with his amusement, at least these two guys were happy for him.

"I don't think I'm ready to subject her to the crew just yet." He retorted, ignoring their smiles and their shaking heads. He knew he'd let them meet her eventually, but maybe one at a time! On mass they could be… well they could be…them!

Catherine shouldered her bag, closing her locker with a snick.

"I got to beg off, you guys. Got to pick Lindsay up from school." She said. Her voice calm and controlled, even to the trained ear. She was forcing a smile. She turned quickly away, missing the sly, sadly knowing looks, which passed between Grissom and Nick, as the pair then rounded their gaze upon Warrick. They too had always sensed the attraction between their friends, but now, now as if things hadn't already changed enough recently, they were finally back together working as a team and here was something else to challenge them as a unit.

"All right," Warrick accepted quietly, keeping his disappointment to himself, realizing that it wouldn't work to push her just yet. He turned to watch her leave his gaze sweeping sadly over her back, the way the gold hair breezed. It was probably better this way; at least there would be no chance of alcohol drawing too many truths out of either of them.

"Bye," she murmured faintly as she slipped away.

"Bye," Nick replied, his attention back on Grissom already.

"So?" He directed the question at his boss again. The expectant look almost impossible to refuse.

"I got one more thing to do." Grissom stated to placate him, before he slipped away back out to the AV lab – looking every bit the part of a man on a mission.

"All right!" Nick replied, his smile full force as he swung on the bench towards Warrick, with a look of intent on his face.

"Don't." Came Warrick's very definite warning reply. He didn't care if it was a comment about Catherine or yet another question about his wife he just could not listen to anymore.

0000000000

Grissom and Archie sat side by side in the AV lab, the projector screen and computer monitors before them alive with the static of the conversation processed from the badly burned Dictaphone tape from Nick's fateful day.

Even hearing Walter Gordon's voice from beyond the grave didn't soften the way the sound made both men's stomach's turn. Made Grissom's hand tremble as his mind worked quickly over the new evidence that Archie was providing him with, yet he struggled to concentrate. In his mind there was a war, a fight for his concentration. All he wanted to do was to listen to the words being spoken and yet his mind was clouded by the unforgettable image of Gordon blowing himself to smithereens barely feet from him, and taking away all he had placed his hopes on, what they had all placed their hopes on, their only chance of finding out where Nick was buried.

And then he had heard it. Had heard what he had suspected all along.

"Ok?" Clearly Walter Gordon's voice.

"Perfect," A stranger.

An accomplice.

"How did you know it was going to be there?" Archie's voice held an awed tone.

Chance…

0000000000

It had purely been chance…

But things change by chance and sometimes for the better.

On his second visit to the hospital to see Nick, barely days after they had rescued him from the coffin of glass buried deep under the layers of mud and earth, things had unexpectedly been stirred into motion.

Nick was improving greatly, his bite wounds soothed by layers of lotions, his hydration levels increasing, and his breathing better. His strength returning in ebbs, yet he was still sleeping for most of the day. Deep languid dreams soothed by the potions and cocktails the doctors had kindly pumped into his system. Their magic concoctions fighting off the night terrors, sweats and the echoes of his own hoarse screams as they bounded back at him from the surrounding darkness.

Gil had entered Nick's room, the raised hospital bed bathed in a pool of light, to find Sara curled in the shadows in a chair at the side of their friend's bed.

For a moment he had paused, drinking her in, captivated by her in this true moment of pure honesty. Tears had glazed her cheeks with a glow, her chest heaved with each effort of breath, and her knees had been tucked defensively up under her chin in a vulnerable pose that brought back painful memories for him. She clasped Nick's limp palm in-between both of hers, just as he had held her hand months before during the purging of her own soul.

She was whispering to Nick's sleeping form, the soft lilt of her voice behind the shield of her hair making her unintelligible to Grissom. And he knew better than to move closer in order to snatch a wisp of her words. He knew how fiercely she protected her privacy.

So he had waited, considering her; afraid to move in case he frightened her, knowing more than anyone how much she needed these breakdowns of emotional release. Feeling the same yearnings burning deep in his own chest. The fear, the injustice, the knowledge that it could have been anyone of them. The idea that they could have been too late. And the overwhelming relief in knowing that they had overcome everything to come through for their friend.

He didn't know how long he waited, but it seemed only minutes later when she had slipped from the chair. Gently placing Nick's palm against his chest. Leaning over him she had caressed his hair and pressed a light kiss to his forehead, before turning to leave.

She hadn't even started to find him standing there.

She had smiled weakly, brushing the back of her hand over her cheeks revealing the gentle freckles usually hidden by her discreet makeup. She had looked all of ten years old.

"Hi," she had breathlessly whispered, emotion making her voice huskier than usual, tentative like she was afraid to break the silence, and he had returned the greeting in the same way.

For the first time in a long time he had reacted upon his instincts. He had reached out with one slightly hesitant hand and placing it on her shoulder had drawn her close.

Both of them had sighed softly as their upper bodies had come into contact. He could still remember the sound as it had escaped her. Still felt the warmth of their bodies and the feel of the life in them drawing them closer. Her arms had slipped around his waist and she had pressed her face gently into his shoulder. And she had stayed like that, both of them swaying soothingly and he had been unable to stop the smile which spread across his face.

When she finally drew back, she had been smiling too, a small smile, and her eyes had crinkled as she had seen that he was smiling too. Her cheeks had flushed pink as she had stepped away, tucking a curl of her dark hair back behind her ear shyly.

"I should go," she had said, still quiet. She had glanced back over her shoulder at Nick.

Then gently pressing a palm to his shoulder she had moved to slip past him. She hadn't moved very far before his gentle fingers had closed around her wrist.

Her eyes had lifted to meet his and he had seen confusion and concern swirling in the dark irises.

"How did you get here?" he had asked, he was worried about her, worried about her going home alone like this. "Did you drive?"

He had been surprised to see her shake her head.

"I walked." She had confessed quietly, dipping her head as his eyes had widened. It was a long walk from the CSI lab. "I know," she whispered sensing his thoughts. "I needed to think." She had said briefly with a slight shrug.

"Ok," he had accepted with an understanding nod. "Let me, erm, let me…"

He had been so nervous, and even then he had known why. He had sensed that things between them were about to shift.

"Let me drive you." He had finally managed to say. "Please," he had insisted.

And she had let him. They had even stopped for coffee, which had been his idea; something he knew had surprised her. They had sat for a while at a window table in a small place across the road from the hospital, watching the world go by, not really saying a whole lot. Making light conversation. Complaining about the dreadful coffee they were served. Yet still sipping the dark liquid during comfortable silences. Knowing that it was something else warming their insides.

For the first time in a very long time their words had nothing to do with forensics, or death or work of any kind. And they had smiled.

The journey to her home had been filled with the vibrant sounds of Classical music that reverberated from his CD player and filled the inside of his car with what sounded like a full orchestra.

She had noticed the difference in his musical tastes and commented to that end. Admitting that although she knew nothing about Classical music at all, her grin had spread as she teased him, that she could certainly tell it was happy music and not his usual sad sounding aria or any of the other melodic and depressing pieces often heard drifting from his office.

He had in turn pretended to pout, but she was right, it was nice to listen to something uplifting when he felt this way.

He had slowed on his approach to her home and then realised as he turned off the engine that he hadn't even needed to ask her for directions.

She had watched him curiously for a moment, as he had leaned back in his chair, then he had reached for the door handle and with a faint shake of her head, which he saw on his periphery, she had reached for hers.

That look of curiosity had been back in her eyes as she had crossed in front of the car and walked to her door, her fingers rooting in the pocket of her dark jeans for the key. She had wanted to know what he was doing. Why he had gotten out of the car. And truthfully he didn't really know.

Key in hand she had turned back to him. She had hovered her uncertainty clear.

"Do you want to come in?" she had finally asked. Her voice cracking slightly.

He'd considered it. He had been so tempted, but then he'd felt himself shake his head gently.

"You should sleep," he had heard the words slip from his lips on his soft smile.

"We both should." He had heard himself continue.

She had nodded, and he had seen the flicker of disappointment cross her features and wondered if his own face was that expressive.

But they were both so very tired.

She had smiled softly, her head tilting upwards, a look of surprise dawning as he had stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Reaching out again, he had caressed that same lock of hair back behind her ear which had escaped earlier, feeling the softness of her cheek beneath the slightly rough pads of his fingers.

Instinctively she had leaned into his touch. And he'd kissed her.

Feeling the gentle gasp of breath as her lips parted softly beneath his.

It had lasted mere moments before he had reluctantly pulled away, yet it had been perfect.

And purely chance…

0000000000

"Hey, Griss!" Warrick's voice cut through the excited chatter going on between his boss and Archie, who still leaned over the AV desk talking animatedly about what they had found.

"Griss?" Warrick tried again, "You coming or not man?"

Shaking his head to distance himself from his discovery Gil turned towards the younger CSI.

"Yes," he stated with a firm nod. He looked to Archie, "Great work." He praised, feeling the power of bestowing compliments and recognising that he didn't do it anywhere near often enough.

"Great work," he said again as he stood and moved away from the desk heading in the direction of Warrick's retreating back.

0000000000

To be continued…