Click. He whirled about to find himself staring into the very depths of universe, a vast black hole that absorbed all light and energy. The barrel of a gun.

"Yes. That's what I killed her with." His heart slid up into his throat and hammered mercilessly at his Adam's apple, threatening to beat his vocal cords into submission.

"Jason was in Reno. I came here to tell Fay that we would be together again one day." He swallowed hard and in the brief absence of the beating, his vocal cords worked together to choke out a few words.

"Mrs. Hendler, put the gun down." He tried to look calm, in charge, but already his body shook with the force of adrenaline pounding its way through his veins, his vision spun around the central point of that gun. He knew she could see it, see the fear radiating from him, undermining his authority.

"Do you know he was engaged to me when he met her?" she asked, ignoring his order. Tears sparkled in her eyes like the tiniest bit of winter sunlight on the surface of a lake, cold and too bright.

"There was blood…everywhere. No one else could see it, but I knew it was there." He could see it too, but it wasn't Fay's. It was his own, splattered across the walls and the lacquered floor, sticky and bright, neat patterns and messy mistakes.

"A dead body is so heavy." He felt himself being pulled along the floor, his shoulder aching as his clothes smeared his blood over the floor all the way to the garage, where he was hauled roughly into the back of a car.

"Mrs. Hendler, I'm a good listener." He pushed the images away, swallowed to push his heart back down into his chest, hoping it will let him speak long enough to convince her. "You've got to give me the gun."

He thought for a second that it had worked, saw the slight softening to her eyes. She didn't want to kill him any more than he wanted to be killed.

"I can't!" she cried and the illusion shattered like a dropped glass, sending sharp fragments in every direction to cut everything into pieces that couldn't fit back together no matter how hard he tried to make them.

She whispered, as the light left her eyes, "I'm sorry."

"No, wait!" he begged. Everything blurs around him as he racked his brain for something, anything to save him from this, but found nothing but memories he wished he had forgotten.

"But you arrested my husband," she said, her voice rationalizing, convincing herself that this was the only way.

"Wait!" He shouted desperately, feeling the band of salty tears where his eyelashes met his cheeks, knowing that it was going to be over and that he wouldn't be caught dead crying.

"Mrs. Hendler." The gun was no longer pointed at him and he looked up to see Grissom holding his gun out delicately. "Nick, don't move" the order was barked at him, and he froze, save for the shivers running through his body, the shaking of his legs, his heavy breaths.

Grissom's mouth moved, but no sound came out, not over the roaring in his ears, the screams of everything inside him that he was almost dead.

He saw the gun lowered, and he turned, his most vulnerable side now the tears that wouldn't stop pouring from his eyes, no matter how hard he rubbed at them.

"You okay, Nick?" Grissom asked, and Nick was forced to turn.

"Yeah," he said, hearing his voice break like it did when he was little. Grissom nodded and turned away.

Nick snapped off his gloves, the sharp noise pulling him back to reality. He placed his hand on his hip and frowned, bit his lip, angry at himself for being so weak.

He stuffed the gloves into a bag and walked out of the house, climbed into his truck and drove home. Didn't stop at the lab, didn't tell anyone where he was going, just drove himself home in a haze of confusion and desperation.

He found himself sitting on a chair in his living room, staring into space, utterly drained. Despite his exhaustion, his brain muttered annoyingly, still processing what he didn't want to understand.

Everyone wished for a second chance when they died. He guessed he had just gotten his.

Nick mumbled to himself in his semiconscious state as Warrick watched. It had been an hour now, since Nick had been injected with whatever it was, and things were only going downhill.

Warrick wanted to lean in, listen closer to what Nick said, as he wondered what it was that Nick was so afraid of. But on the other hand, it wasn't his right to know, if Nick didn't want him to.

So he sat, and he watched, and he waited. He checked his watch every couple of minutes, cracked his knuckles, tugged at his shirt. In essence, he fidgeted nervously, waiting to see what he should do next.

"Wait!" Nick shouted suddenly, causing Warrick to jump.

"Nick?" No use. Nick couldn't hear him. He pushed some hair back from his friend's forehead, grimacing at the heat emanating from him.

Nick began mumbling again, turning away from Warrick, coughing roughly.

Warrick glanced at his watch. Another two minutes had ticked by. He checked his cell phone. No signal.

He sighed and stood to pace again, periodically stopping to check Nick's pulse. He was surprisingly calm, he thought, given the situation. Certainly he was much calmer than he was before.

Nick was right, I guess. Nothing I can do by being freaked. They'll find us. Just gotta wait it out.

"Grissom!" Archie yelled from the AV lab. "I found it!"

Grissom dashed into the lab, standing behind Archie's chair to look at the screen.

"Right there, see? Silver van, tinted windows?"

"Can you get a license on it?" Archie's fingers danced across the keys, gracefully tapping out commands.

"There. XMN 05Z." Archie glanced up at Grissom. "It's a company van, from the Clark County Electricity. Usually meter readers use them."

"Thanks, Archie." Grissom left the AV lab, already on his cell phone, calling Brass.

"The license is XMN 05Z."

"I'll put out an APB on it," Brass said. Grissom thanked him and hung up quickly, already dialing again.

"Hello, operator? I need the number of Clark County Electric."