A/N – Okay, I thought of writing longer chapters, and discovered I'd simply never get anything written if I did that… while I like the flow of the longer chapters… oh well. There's just not enough time in my day. Also, I'm sorry for the delay. I needed to take a break from the story, as it started to feel like an obligation, rather than fun. It's back to being fun. I hope you like.

Disclaimer – I'm not that creative. Make it up yourself.

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"I have no intention of speaking with Mandy. That's Nick's job," Grissom smirked, digging into his meal.

"I really want to see this happen," Sara murmured, popping a grape in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. Furrowing her brow in concentration, she asked, "Don't you think you should have Nick wait until after he's made the verification, though?"

"I agree," he replied. Pushing his plate away, Grissom leaned back and quirked a brow, "Are you about ready to leave, my dear?"

Leisurely, they made their way to the car, his hand on her lower back, rubbing circles to stroke away some of the fatigue still evident in her posture. Walking in the door several hours before shift, Sara's only desire was to get a couple hours of sleep, hopefully of the nightmare-less variety. Unfortunately, a houseful of people sat in the living room, talking intently and quietly.

"Crap," she muttered, making her way to the easily recognized voices. "Our house has gotten a little too small, all of a sudden."

"Your idea, honey," Grissom murmured in her ear.

"I'm getting rid of them," she muttered on a deep frown. "Just watch."

Smiling, Grissom walked sedately behind his wife. Standing directly behind her, he prepared for cranky side of Sara to emerge.

"Everyone. Out. I need sleep," she grunted, and then giving in to an involuntary yawn. When she began to step forward and ran into a side table, she yelped, "Son of a bitch. That's it." Turning back to the occupants, she bowed low on one leg and said, "Good night. Go away," and made her way unceremoniously to bed.

Smiling slightly, Grissom watched Laura, Dennis, April and Greg glance at each other in confusion. "I believe my wife would like her calm, uneventful home back," he softly stated. "To tell you the truth, the last few days have been rather difficult for both of us. We tend to live quietly."

The pallid faces in front of him recognized the meaning behind the words.

"How about I take you to the best rib place in town," Greg offered lightly, standing and rapidly gaining the consent of the room's other occupants. Grimacing, he looked at his boss. "I'm fine on my own. Thanks for letting me crash here."

While everyone else made their way to the front door, April said, "I can stay at a hotel, Gil. I'll just grab my bags--"

Grissom rapidly held up a hand, and smiled, "No. You won't. Sara would kill both of us. She wants a chance to be a sister to you. She's happy to have the chance to do this."

Looking toward the front of the house, April squeezed Grissom's hand, smiled lightly, and made her way to the rest of the group.

Stepping into the bedroom, Grissom smiled at the sight in front of him. His wife lay in bed wearing one of her slinkier nightgowns. Twiddling her fingers impatiently, she scowled, "It's about time."

Smiling wider, he made short work of his own garments, dropping them in a pile next to the dresser, and joined her. When she moved up over him, he relished the feel of his hands running over the silky material. On a chuckle, he pulled her down further, letting himself savor the short time he knew they had together.

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The twenty minute catnap they'd caught before heading into the office refreshed them more than either could have anticipated. While Grissom grabbed slips, frowning at the caseload, he never noticed the gaping looks from everyone as he walked down the hall. Had anyone asked about the swollen nose and smudges of bruise under his eyes, he would have had to think about a response. He'd acclimated to the dull ache, and frankly had more important matters on his mind.

Once Grissom was seated and reviewing notes prior to assignments, Hodges carefully made his way across and tapped on the door with, "Hey boss. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Hodges. Did you need something?" Grissom abruptly asked.

"No. I just wanted to… to… to tell you that I have the Trace done for Catherine's case, so I'm going to just head down to her office," he said, quickly making his way down the hall.

"HODGES!" Grissom shouted, forcing the tech to do a stiff spin back. "Have you seen Nick?"

"He's in the break room with Greg. Shall I get him?" Hodges offered, a superior smile marring his face.

"Send them both to my office."

Slinking down the hall moments later, Greg felt like a kid being sent to the principal's office. It had only occurred once, but he never forgot the feeling deep in his stomach that told him it was bad bad bad.

Quietly taking the chairs across from Grissom, Nick and Greg waited. Sneaking occasional glances at each others' worried faces, they continued to wait silently.

We're screwed, Nick repeated to himself. Glancing at Greg, he watched the younger CSI swallow deep in fear. Minutes ticked by, and for a time, both CSIs could imagine the tick-tick-tick-tick of a clock loudly tapping in their head.

Finally laying down a folder, Grissom looked over the rim of his glasses and quietly asked, "Give me one good reason I shouldn't fire you."

Gulping hard, Greg and Nick looked at each other. Neither knew Grissom had already decided their fate, and firing either would be a stupid act on his part. Gil Grissom could be many things, but stupid wasn't one of them.

"I'm one of the best CSIs you have, and I made a mistake. I owned up to it, and admit my actions were not thought through well," Nick stated.

Sitting back, Grissom thought through Nick's statement. He's right. He is one of the best CSIs in Vegas. Every member of my team is the best.

"I'm not going to fire you, but you will be writing a letter of apology to the sheriff," Grissom stated.

Switching his gaze to Greg, Grissom merely quirked a brow and waited.

The stern principal's look assisted in making Greg's fidgety and nervous, as Grissom peered over his glasses, never letting his eyes break the stare from Greg. Eventually dropping his gaze momentarily to his lap, Greg returned it to his boss. He shut his eyes, breathed deep, and finally spoke evenly, "Everyone screws up. I was lucky it was only a concussion. It won't happen again."

"You're in the same boat as Nick," Grissom informed the young man. "You will not be fired, but you will write a letter of apology to the sheriff. Furthermore, you are not going into the field for the next three days. You're on desk duty for the concussion."

When Greg looked like he was about to argue that the doctor was only concerned about one more day of light duty, Grissom waited patiently, feeling like a parent disciplining a child. If necessary, he was prepared to look at his CSI and quietly ask, "Would you like to make it four more days?" It was best for Greg when his mouth shut on a huffing breath.

Looking between the two, the plan that had shaped earlier came to the forefront of Grissom's mind.

Quietly, he informed them, "I am taking control of this case. Nick, you are going to hit the archives. Go back to the first time the antique shop was hit. Compare everything. Then go to the other two sites, and see if there are old cases there, as well."

Sharply nodding his head, Nick said, "Sure, boss. I'll see what I can find."

"Oh… I'm not done, Nick. Once you find the appropriate archive cases, I also want you to take the fingerprints we have from the recent cases, and ask Mandy to start comparing against archives," Grissom mildly stated.

As both CSIs paled, Grissom turned to Greg and added, "You're helping Nick find the case files, and then assisting Mandy for the next few days."

Walking away from Grissom's office, Nick looked at Greg and said, "Man, we screwed up."

"Could be worse," Greg responded. "I could have to be the one to tell Mandy she's got to physically compare the existing prints to thousands of archive prints that are so old they haven't yet been transferred to AFIS."

Unfortunately for Nick, he knew payment would be due the sharp, witty brunette in the fingerprint lab – not just at work, but at home.

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A/N – Review is back to sighing over Login, trying to ignore him. She's decided to give him the space he apparently needs. Not that it matters. Apparently Login is trying to ignore the attraction. He feels that since he's been around since the start of this site, and is therefore older, it's up to him to back off. However, Register, Home, Communities, Forum, and Just In are rolling their eyes, because they see the longing look in Login's eyes.