Thanks again to racefh and PisceanPal for continued beta and advice. Muchas gracias a GregsLabRat (who is also helping me stay good on my Spanish XD) and much thanks to Mma63 and LostLadyKnight, all for reviews on the last chapter. I don't really have anything extra to say about this chapter, so it will suffice to say Enjoy!

:)

Harper

CHAPTER 15: Hits

"So you want to go out there and try to find some tangible evidence?"

"Sure, what have we got to lose?" Greg got up off the bench, following Nick. "I mean besides our careers, reputations, et al. Not that I don't mind being the tough vigilante… at least if Jody Foster is the model."

"You wanna stop with the pop culture references?"

"Never," Greg said, pretending to take out a sword and point it at Nick.

"Alright, Inigo Montoyo. Let's get our father-avenging butts in the car."

Their tangible evidence, unfortunately, would be the scene of Warrick's death, Nick elected.

"You said it was at… that alley… by the diner." Nick gulped. Even though he hadn't taken that redheaded waitress up on her offer – which probably didn't turn out to be an offer at all – he felt guilty. Guilty that he couldn't do anything to stop Warrick's death.

And now guilty that he was replacing Warrick. Greg was great. He really was trying his best to help Nick find his friend's killer. But he would never be his friend. At least not in the same way as Warrick. He knew Warrick respected Greg – that, to some degree, he admired the former lab tech's wit and unique brand of fearlessness, or at least lack of fear for humiliation. But, at the same, he had a feeling that Warrick would be insulted that Nick was replacing him with that same witty, shameless and, ultimately, dorky kid.

There it was. It was out in the open. That was why Nick had been subconsciously shunning his sidekick this whole time. He made a vow, as they struggled to figure out where, precisely, Warrick's car was parked, that he would go easier on Greg.

"I think I found it," Greg yelled from across the alleyway. "I see glass fragments. We can test them, but I have a feeling they'll come back to Warrick's car."

"Nice. I'm guessing the Feds are done investigating the scene. I knew they wouldn't pick up on quite as much as CSI."

"Or the expert skills of CSI Sanders."

"Or the expert skills of CSI's Sanders and Stokes," Nick confirmed, smiling as he already lived up to his promise.

"Batman and Robin."

Nick grinned in confirmation. Suddenly this investigation wasn't seeming so long anymore.

Nick peered down at the ground, noticing some odd marking in the mud. "Hey Greg! I think I found something!"

Greg stopped scanning the nearby brick walls – which, aside from an old piece of gum, proved to be a mindless, pointless and, most importantly, evidence-less task – walked over to take a look at Nick's finding. "Looks like a footprint."

"Looks like a smudged footprint."

"We're not getting any evidence off this, are we?"

"I'd say not"

"Aw shucks."

"Pickin' up Texas slang, are ya?"

"Heh, guess I'm hangin' around with you too much, eh?"

"Or just enough. Texas slang beats California slang, and I haven't heard a 'hella' or 'cuddy' from you in… well I don't even remember hearing that from you since you were in the lab."

"I figured talking Cali made me sound a tad unprofessional. Ya know?"

"Well talkin' like a cowboy, don't make me unprofessional at all, don' it, partner?" Nick said, exaggerating his accent.

"Not at all, partner? It's all part of the Nick Stokes, Cowboy Extraordinaire Act…, ain't it?" Greg cringed as he said the word 'ain't,' while Nick laughed at his buddy's awkwardness.

"'Cowboy Extraordinaire Act,' ay? And what else is part of this act, other than leavin' off 'g's on my verbs or gerunds or whatever."

"Wow. I didn't even realize they taught grammar down there," Greg jokes.

"Hey now, let's not be dissin' my Aggies. They teach everythin' you need to know and more. Sure as hell taught me the cop work."

"Very true. I wasn't dissing A&M. Just Texas in general."

Nick punched him in the arm, knowing it was all a joke. "Aw, but what's Cali got on the longhorns."

"Hollywood?" Greg ventured. "And LA traffic."

"Hah, exactly."

"You produced the Bushes and we got Reagan. I'd say it's a toss-up."

"I'll say." Nick took one last look around the alley, having already done a quite thorough evaluation of all spaces within 100 feet of the assumed scene of the crime.

Greg picked up on Nick's prolonged silence and eye movement. "Ready to get going?"

"I'd say we have all the evidence we're gonna get outta this place," said Nick, as he continued to peer around.

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'" With that, they headed back to the Denali, though Nick felt slightly reluctant, even if he didn't know why – or at least if he couldn't think of anywhere else evidence would be hiding, or even any proof that there was more. He knew deep inside that they would have left already if this were any other scene.

Bagging up the tiny pieces of glass – which looked like they might bare fingerprints and hopefully even DNA, they headed back to Nick's house.

Given that they didn't want to arouse suspicion – especially since they didn't know who the mole was – they elected to wait until shift change, hoping that many of the CSI's would be preoccupied with new cases, and that the lab rats would, for the most part, be distracted with changing shifts. Though they were fairly confident that the mole worked in the field, they weren't quite ready to rule out any of the lab rats yet.

Because of Greg's experience in DNA, they started at the DNA lab. Though Greg had mixed feelings about a potential Wendy-Hodges relationship, he had to admit that – on this occasion – it was very much to their advantage. Wendy didn't appear to be leaving Hodges' trace lab anytime soon. At present, it looked like the two lab rats were either flirting unabashedly or talking about Star Trek again. Wendy appeared to be entirely oblivious to her lab being hijacked by its former owner.

Greg glanced anxiously over his shoulder, watching especially for Wendy's departure or the appearance of a coworker, when he got a hit – one that he didn't expect.

He did a retake. It couldn't be… Sure he'd never liked the man, but murder…? Distracted by the computer screen, he didn't notice the shadows lingering by the door.

As the sound of a slowly opening door caught his attention, he folded up the paper, closed out AFIS and slid away from the computer right as he saw the door to the lab open all the way.

Nick realized the desperation of the situation. He had to keep the tech silent. He had to rely on every ability that he had as a CSI, and he had to be willing to sacrifice every hint of pride and integrity that he had. He had only been forced to take this course of action once before in his life, and he lived with the decision every day, when this same lab tech gave him that evil eye.

Nick Stokes had to sing.

"I remember all my life," he crooned, exaggerating the volume changes as much as possible to give the line a feeling of intimacy. He narrowed his eyebrows. "Raining down as cold as ice." He stealthily averted his gaze, checking the lab and windows, not for potential moles this time, but for potential witnesses to this painful endeavor.

"A shadow of a man…A face through a window… Crying in the night…The night goes into." Dammit. What does the night go into? Warning? Mourning? MORNING! "Morning, just another…"

"Day." Mandy helped him, smirking.

"Hey, it's not like it's some crime in the lovely state of Texas – or any state – not to know the words to Barry Manilow," he warned her.

"Keep singing."

"Morning, just another day… Happy people pass my way… Looking in their eyes…"

"You're not done yet.

Aw shucks. "I see a memory…I never realized…you made me so happy, oh Mandy."

"The best part."

"Hey no interrupting. You're ruining the mood and breakin' the moment."

Mandy smirked again.

"Oh Mandy! Well you came and you gave without taking"

Mandy wooted and Nick rolled his eyes, but kept singing.

"But I sent you away, oh Mandy. Well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking. But I need you today, oh Mandy –"

Seeing Ecklie barging through the hall, Mandy quickly cut Nick off. "And here are your results, Mr. Stokes."

"Why thank you, Ms. Webster."

"My my," droned Ecklie. "It sure is nice to see such manners from sleep-deprived county employees."

"It's the southern way, ma'am – I mean sir," Mandy quickly replied, blushing.

Nick let out an uncharacteristic giggle.

Ecklie stared at the both, and then, looking scared, backed out of the room.

"Rest of the song. Now."

"Sorry, Ms. Southern Bell. I've got my results and now, like the true cowboy that I am, it's time for me to bust on outta this town."

"Aw you're leaving for good, Cowboy? Whatever are we to do in this town, without you and your…"

"Lovely baritone to liven up the mood?"

"Something like that."

"And Mandy?"

"Yeah?… you gonna burst out into song again?"

"Nah. Just wanted to say thanks. I know keepin' your eyes closed to somethin' runnin' through your lab seems a bit strange, but thanks."

"No problem. Anything for a Texas crooner."

Nick closed the door, results – yet to be looked at – folded away in his pocket. As he joined a shocked looking Greg in the DNA lab, checking around him for colleagues first – he looked down at his results for the first time, and took a step back in shock to mirror Greg's.

Greg and Nick raced back to Nick's house. They were no longer safe doing anything at the lab. Their results were identical, and it meant they – and the entire lab – were in trouble. If the mole was in fact what their results told them, anybody could be helping. Anybody – even Wendy or Mandy – could be helping.

Anybody in the lab could be the shadow lurking behind them at many a turn. Anybody could be the one to betray them to the mole, and on to Gedda's gang. Now, the only friend who was definitely on their side, ironically, was Warrick, and maybe Catherine as well.

Ecklie was definitely to be watched out for, though they could – fortunately – hardly imagine Grissom working for such a politicking scoundrel.

They were scared.

The very man they worked for, the undersheriff, was the mole.

They had no idea what their next step was, but they knew they had to get away from the lab. Now that the mole definitely knew about their investigation– as they could only assume if the Feds had called Grissom about it, given that the undersheriff stood between Grissom and the Feds – every move they made in the lab could be a deathtrap.

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