This chapter takes place eight years later. Italics indicate flashbacks. Enjoy.

Warrick watched his six-year-old son playing in the backyard with Lindsey from the kitchen window. He took another sip of his coffee and wished he had been able to force his son to put a sweatshirt on before he went outside. He was unable to convince him, so he had given up. Lindsey, now twenty-one, knew enough to wear a jacket against the chilly late Las Vegas afternoon. She was home for the holidays and was, as always, happy to be back with her family.

Warrick heard the front door open, but he didn't feel the need to turn around and see who it was. He knew exactly who had just come through the door and would be able to figure out each person to come through for the next hour as guests arrived for Christmas dinner. Warrick was taking another sip from his steaming mug as Catherine sat down next to him at the table, smiling at him warmly.

"Hi honey." She said, leaning in and kissing him lightly on the cheek. She looked outside and saw Lindsey playing with her son, and even though she smiled her voice was still somewhat concerned when she said, "Why doesn't he have a sweatshirt on?"

Warrick shrugged. "He doesn't listen to a damn word I say. He refuses to believe that anything bad will happen if he keeps going outside without a jacket or anything on. I guess he's just gonna have to learn the hard way like I did when I was a kid."

"Yeah, and you turned out great." Catherine said teasingly. She got up from the table and made herself a cup of coffee, then returned to the table and sat next to her husband. "Grissom said that if you let Greg carve the turkey again, he's not coming."

Warrick laughed. "I didn't let him, it was totally out of my hands. He had the knife, and I wasn't going to fight him for it. Like Grissom would ever pass up your turkey anyway. He knows better."

"That's true, he just wants to seem like a tough guy." Catherine said, her smile widening.

Warrick finished the last of his coffee and looked at his watch before looking back up at Catherine. "I'm gonna go see Nick before everyone else gets here. I'll be back in a little bit."

Catherine nodded slightly and smiled at him one last time. Warrick smiled back, grabbed his jacket and went out the front door.

Warrick parked his car in the same spot he had been for the last seven years. As always, he was the only one walking through the green grass toward his friend. The cold air bit it his exposed neck, but he didn't zip up his jacket anymore. He shoved his hands in his jeans' pockets and kept walking, keeping his head up and squinting slightly at the sun in his eyes as it started to go down behind the trees at the edge of the cemetery.

Exactly twenty-three steps later, Warrick arrived at Nick's grave. He sat on the bench directly across from it that the lab had bought and put there with Nick's name engraved on it. The bench was cold, but Warrick had gotten used to that. He had gotten used to every kind of weather; it never stopped him from coming. Every day, even if it wasn't at the same time, he came to see Nick. If he had to, he'd spend his lunch or break sitting on that bench because that was the promise he had made.

To never let go.

"Hey man." He said softly, his breath becoming visible in front of his mouth. "I swear this place gets colder and colder every year you're not here. It wouldn't surprise me if it were true either." Warrick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I still haven't gotten used to it being this time of year and not having you around. I remember that first Christmas after I got divorced and we drove all the way to LA for the Laker's game, and made it back for dinner at Catherine's. That was clutch man. Now I gotta put up with Greg and Grissom fighting over the turkey and Brass eating all the pie on me." Warrick shook his head slowly. "Nothing's the same without you anymore."

Seven Years Ago

Nick was honestly starting to wonder if he had something about him that attracted bad things to him. Out of all the days in a year, and all the banks and casinos to rob in Las Vegas, what's the odds these criminals would pick today, at that bank, and to rob it then? Whatever the odds were, Nick knew they weren't good. But apparently they were good enough, because it was happening at that very moment.

Four guys wearing black ski masks came running through the doors with machine guns. They quickly took out the security guards and cameras and managed to get everyone in the bank at the time to one side, away from the doors and windows, which they locked. There was only five people in it at the time other than Nick, and they all looked terrified. Nick was too preoccupied with making fun of the bank robbers in his head to be worried right away.

When the bank robbers figured out that this newer bank had a system that automatically locks down when the security cameras are shut off, they were more than pissed off. They grabbed the two young tellers from behind the counter and threw them over with the rest of their hostages, now totaling eight.

Nick looked at the people around him. A young girl was crying against her dad's shoulder. The father couldn't have been older than Nick; he looked barely out of college. Two teen-aged girls were huddled against each other, silent tears streaming down their faces. An older woman, probably twice Nick's age at least, was trying to remain calm but slowly losing the battle. The male teller was trying to keep his legs from shaking and was consoling his female colleague at the same time.

"Hey, you."

Nick looked over at the bank robber who had spoken to him. "What?"

"Why don't you look scared?" He asked.

"Because I'm not." Nick answered. "You guys have no idea what you're doing, and you won't kill anyone. It's way too risky, and you know it."

The man who had been speaking to Nick stepped forward and stood right in front of him. "Wanna make a bet on that?"

Nick shrugged. "Seeing as how you're the one with everything to lose, sure. I bet that if you let every single person in here go, except me, you still won't do anything."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Nick motioned to the rest of the people. "Come on man. This guy and his daughter, this nice old lady, and four teenagers. You're telling me you're gonna hurt them because you messed up?"

"If we have to, yes."

Nick shook his head. "But you don't have to. Let them go. I'll stay here and cooperate. You don't need all of us, just one. I'm a CSI, I work with the police. They'll negotiate with you." Nick lied, fully knowing that they can't and won't.

The man with the gun scoffed. "You're the one with everything to lose. Your life doesn't matter to you?"

"Is that how you want this to turn out? Go talk it over with your buddies over there. Let them go and keep me, you'll still have the power." Nick said.

The bank robber did just that, leaving the hostages to themselves once again. The little girl tugged on her dad's shirt to get his attention, and he looked down at her.

"Daddy, he's trying to save us."

Her father smiled at her, then looked at Nick. "Yeah, he is. Why?"

Nick smiled back, but didn't answer. All four bank robbers walked over to their hostages, and the man who was apparently in charge spoke up again.

"The cops are outside. They go, you stay." He said, pointing to Nick with the he gun. "And the kid too."

Nick immediately shook his head. "Hell no. Let them all go."

"They won't storm the building if they know there's a kid and a cop in here. You both stay, or you all die."

The little girl climbed out of her dad's arms and stood next to Nick. She took his hand in her smaller one and looked back at her dad, the tears gone from her eyes.

"It's okay daddy, he'll protect me. We'll be okay, you go be safe now."

Two hours later, they were still trapped in the bank. Nick had talked to Warrick, Grissom and Brass several times in that time period, but barely any progress had been made. The bank robbers wanted to get off free, and that just wasn't going to happen.

"I'm Jess." The little girl said to Nick.

Nick smiled at her. "I'm Nick."

"We're gonna be safe, right?" She asked, a tint of fear in her voice.

Nick nodded. "You will be. I promise."

Nick was about to fall asleep like Jess had against his side, but a cell phone was thrust into his hand and interrupted his plans.

"Hello?"

"We're coming in in five minutes. Hang tight man, we're gonna get you outta there." Nick heard Warrick's voice say on the other line. "I promised you I wouldn't ever give up on you, and I'm not letting go now."

Exactly three minutes and forty six seconds after that telephone call, the man in charge stormed over to Nick and Jess, grabbing the child by her hair and yanking her up.

"They don't wanna give us what we want, we'll give them a dead body."

Nick lunged forward and pulled Jess back against him. "Leave her alone. You don't even have the guts to kill a kid."

Nick's eyes darted to the doors and windows, where outside he could see Brass getting his guys ready to go into the building. Beyond that, he saw Jess' father looking on, worry etched all over his face. He saw Grissom standing with Warrick, Catherine, Greg and Ecklie. They all had the same expression on their face, but despite that Nick smiled slightly to himself.

Nick knelt down next to Jess and whispered in her ear, "When I say 'go', i want you to run as fast as you can to the door and keep running until you get to your dad, okay? Don't stop no matter what."

Jess nodded slightly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Brass move.

He stood up, pushing Jess behind him so she was out of sight from the bank robbers.

He threw his cell phone at the far wall, adverting their attention that way.

"Go!" Nick yelled, and Jess ran.

The doors burst open, and Jess sneaked out of them, by Brass and the other officers. She bolted across the street and into the arms of her waiting father.

Nick felt the pain in his chest before he even heard the gunshot.

The other gunshots he didn't hear.

He didn't feel his body fall to the cold tile floor, but he did see Warrick's face hovering over his own, followed by Jess' father's.

"I can't thank you enough." Jess' dad said, and then his voice was replaced by Warrick's as Nick's eyes closed.

"Come on Nicky...stay with me. Don't let go. I'm not letting go."

Nick died en-route to the hospital. Warrick could still distinctly remember the feeling of Nick's hand going limp in his own and hearing the paramedic pronounce his death right in front of him. That moment, the wake, and the funeral had all been surreal. He hadn't been aware of where he was. He was thinking about all of his memories with Nick, the most recent his wedding where Nick had been his best man. But now his best friend was dead, and it hit him that first time he visited Nick's grave.

Warrick remembered yelling at Nick at the top of his lungs for leaving him on his own with a wife and a kid on the way. He didn't know what he was going to do without him, but Nick managed to help him without even being there. Things he used to say and do flooded back to Warrick, and he used that to get him through that first year without his best friend by his side all the time.

Before he knew it, Warrick was back home, pulling into his driveway moments before Greg, Grissom and Brass arrived. They all entered the warm house together with smiled on their faces.

"Dad!"

Warrick heard his son call and grabbed him as he ran at him from the kitchen, picking him up easily. "Hey buddy, what are you up to?"

"I was trying to help mom make the cookies, but she made me stop because I kept eating all of the cookie dough."

Warrick laughed. " 'Atta boy Nicky." He said, bringing his son into the kitchen and setting him down on the counter.

"Where did you go?" Nick asked his father.

"To see your uncle again." Warrick answered.

Nick nodded slowly. "What was he like anyway?"

"Nick?" Grissom asked, and the six-year-old nodded. Grissom laughed. "He was pretty much just like you are, but taller and with a Texan accent."

"Would he have liked me?" Nick asked.

"You guys would have been like best friends." Warrick said with a smile.

Nick smiled as well. "I bet I would have liked him too."

Everyone took their seats at the table, and the food was served. They immediatly dug into the delicious meal prepared for them. They fell into their usual banter about work and whatnot, but Warrick didn't say much. He just listened to what his friends were saying, ocassionally glancing up to the picture of him and Nick on the wall next to the picture of him and his son. Every time he saw Nick smiling, he smiled.

And even though things weren't the same without him being there, in a way, he would always be there.

Thanks to everyone who read this story, and a special thanks to those of you who reviewed. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.