A/N – I know I'm not posting as often, but I've got tons of projects going at once. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer – I look forward to a universe where I'm not going to get sued for writing a simple story.
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Over the course of several hours, Nick managed to dig through digital copies of case files. Grinning, he hit print, grabbed the information, and headed out to find Greg. Seeing him sitting in Archie's lab, assisting in any way could due to be lab-bound, Nick stuck his head in to let him know what had been found.
"I've got a case file number to go with the current antique store case," Nick stated, holding out a printout. I'm heading to LVPD to check out the actual case file. Be back in an hour."
Whistling, he made his way down the halls of the forensics lab, and sent up a quick prayer of, Please, God, let there be identified fingerprints in there.
Unfortunately, as he'd learned of late, prayers are not always answered.
Grimacing at the sight of the stormy look on Nick's face, Greg contemplated hiding for a moment, before stepping out of the break room to intercept his co-worker.
"No luck?" Greg casually asked.
"Oh, there's luck," Nick grumbled, "It's all bad luck."
"What's in the box?" Greg asked.
"Oh, it's not just one box, Greg," Nick said, a little too quietly. "There's another box in the back of my Denali."
Grabbing the keys as Nick tossed them, Greg retrieved the box, and met Nick in the layout room.
"Let's lay it out," Nick sighed.
Two hours later, making his way down the hall, Grissom ran across Nick and Greg staring at case files laid out.
"What have you found?" he asked, looking at the obviously old folder styles, and the aged papers set out on the light table.
"I managed to find the case file from the antique store robbery the owners said happened forty years ago. It actually occurred forty three years ago," Nick stated, spreading out some papers. "Four sets of unidentified fingerprints were found at the scene."
"And?" Grissom prompted. "What did you find?"
"They're a match," Nick glumly stated. "The unidentified prints from the old case match ours."
"Did you find old cases matching the other two robberies you have?" Grissom asked.
"Yeah," Nick stated. "Same fingerprints, too. The antique store was forty three years ago. I found matching old cases for our other two current open robberies from forty four and forty five years ago, respectively."
"What's your next step?" Grissom asked.
"I'm heading over to talk to Mandy in a few minutes," Nick murmured, staring at the prints he'd lifted.
"Let her know that you and Greg are at her beck and call on this," Grissom stated, staring straight at Nick.
"Yeah. I will, Gris," Nick stated, and watched his boss nod and exit the room.
"Want some company?" Greg asked.
The smile on his face looking pained, Nick replied, "Naw. I got it."
Grabbing the print cards, Nick left Greg to store everything in an evidence locker, and made his way to the fingerprint lab. With her back turned, Mandy didn't hear him enter, and he quietly close the doors. Glancing around, Nick was relieved to see the blinds turned down. Whenever Mandy needed to concentrate, she flipped the shades, preferring the dim room with lights spotted directly on the evidence to the lights of the hall invading her space.
"Hey," he said, standing in front of the closed door.
Her head popping up from her current analysis, Mandy blinked a few times, and smiled slowly.
"Got something good for me, Tex?" she asked.
Blowing out a breath, Nick replied, "Yeah." Looking at the door, listening for anyone roaming the hall, and knowing no one could see into her domain, he moved forward and murmured, "Just remember I love you," before kissing her.
When he backed away, it was to see a glare on her face and a gritted, "What did you do, Stokes?" and he thought, Well crap. Now I'm really in trouble.
"I have some fingerprints that need to be manually compared against archived prints," Nick muttered, trying not to look her in the eyes. He could already see the expression on her face in his head, and grimaced.
"All right," she too calmly replied. When she reached over, grabbed his shirt collar and dragged him into a long, sultry kiss, he couldn't help the overwhelming pulsing that ran through him. Letting himself sink into it, getting stoked-up by it, he moaned when she purposely shoved him back and seethed, "Don't ever bring our personal life into the lab. That's at home. It has nothing to do with your screw ups at work."
"Yes'm," popped out of his mouth before he could stop it.
"Nick, regardless of the fact that you messed up the other night, it has no affect at home, okay?" Mandy asked, surprised how tentative he still felt with her at times.
"You're right," he murmured. "It won't happen again."
Right before opening the door, Mandy surprised him with, "By the way, Grissom stopped by earlier to give me a warning that you might be coming in to make my life miserable. He also wanted to make sure that I knew you and Greg would be doing the bulk of the work."
Standing part way in the hall, Nick nodded, and acquiesced, "Yes, we'll be working with you on the comparisons."
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DNA was dead. For that matter, Sara didn't even have a backlog to process. Making her way down to the break room, she plopped down in a chair, and contemplated her dilemma. Back and forth, she debated her problem, knowing she would feel guilty regardless of what choice she made. If she asked him, she'd feel guilty for forcing him to do something that made him horribly uncomfortable – and she knew regardless of what Grissom said that he'd be uncomfortable. If she didn't ask him, she'd feel guilty for not following through with the request made of her.
Impatiently, on a huff, she pulled out a journal, dropped it on the table, and started writing, hoping to put the dilemma out of her mind.
The weirder my life, the less sleep I get. I'd write something down about the last few nights, but I don't have anything to write. The other day, I came home so damn tired, I slept too hard and felt tired when I woke up. This is stupid. Plain stupid. The only thing I can think that helps with the nightmares is getting so tired that a train running through the bedroom wouldn't wake me up.
I'm tired. I'm tired of the nightmares. I'm tired of the drama. I'm just plain tired.
The worst part is I've been putting this off. It's overwhelming trying to ask him for more – to give more. He's given so much already. He's been so supportive all the time. He's even been putting my needs first. It's not like it's a new concept, but he so often gets distracted by a case or some article or book. Lately, he's focused on me, and it's been great. I've felt guilty, though, because I know he is putting aside his own needs and desires to meet my needs and desires. I need to ask him, though. I just don't know how. He hates sharing his life, and I've forced so much on him already.
Feeling a tear begin to slide down her cheek, she slammed the journal closed, roughly rubbed away the wet trail, and huffed out of the break room. Making her way to her own research, she immersed herself, until her eyes burned.
Stopping to rub away the blurring vision, she glanced at the clock, and realized shift would be over shortly. Her gaze moved to her journal, and she felt the draw of the words. With resolve in every step, she made her way to her husband's office.
Tentatively sitting, nervous at the request she was about to make, she contemplated how to ask in her mind in a dozen different ways. So, Gris, any chance you'd… no, that won't work. Hey, honey? I need to see my shrink. Do you think you could… no, that won't work either.
It wasn't until he'd called her name a third time that Sara's head snapped up.
"Is there something wrong, Sara?" Grissom asked.
"Yeah. I need help," she blurted out, shaking her head at the completely inadequate words that came out of her mouth. "Of course I need help. I'm here, aren't I? I mean, I might come sit in your office anyway, but I need to ask you something, and I can't even seem to get it out of my mouth. Instead I'm just babbling. Again."
Rounding his desk, Grissom moved to stand in front of her, and asked, "What is it you need to ask me?"
Taking a calming breath, she finally said, "Will you go with me for my next appointment with Dr. Granger? She'd like to talk with both of us. She'd like to talk to you as well as me."
Then she winced, because yet again she was asking for him to open up his life to someone else.
"Of course," he replied, and she hissed out a pent up breath, until he asked, "What day is your appointment?"
"In an hour."
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A/N – He's staring at her again. Review can feel his gaze on her, but he averts his 'o' every time she looks up. Part of her feels giddy, while another part of her wants to smack him straight. She called up 'Add Story to Favorites', who she ran across the other day. He seemed like a nice enough guy. They're going on a date tomorrow...
