It had been nearly two months after Nick's release from the hospital when the shooters went to trial.  He and Brass, along with the other survivors were in attendance.  They would have their answers to why this happened.

But the answers weren't good enough.  It was all pointless.  They had wanted to pull off the ultimate hit – killing cops.  They had thought they would get away with it.

The only consolation the victims had was that their attackers were found guilty.  They would never hurt anyone else.

Nick sat on Warrick's couch nursing his now warm beer.  The trial had ended with the guilty verdict hours ago.  They had felt they were supposed to celebrate, but couldn't bring themselves to do so.

Lives had been lost.  Nick had almost lost his.

He sighed and studied the faces of his friends.  Faces far too morose for his own liking.

"Okay, I've had enough," he announced.

Everyone looked at him in confusion.

"I know seeing those bastards rotting in jail doesn't change the fact that good cops died, but neither does sitting here moping."

"Nick," Grissom began only to be cut off by the young CSI.

"Just listen.  Yes people died, and that makes me angry – more than you can imagine.  And yes, I could have died.  But I didn't.  I'm still here.  Brass is still here.  We're alive – so act like it!"

"Nicky's right," Brass added.  "Good men died, but the assholes that killed them are locked away and can't kill anyone else.  Our boys have gotten justice."

Warrick nodded and raised his beer.  "To justice."

Everyone else raised their drinks.  "Justice."

Catherine smiled at Nick and Brass.  "To friends."

Nick returned her smile.  "Friends."

"Friends," Brass agreed.

The sentiment was echoed around the room.

The next morning Nick drove out to a small cemetery on the edge of town.  He parked his Tahoe near the entrance and picked up a bouquet of flowers from the passenger seat.

He easily picked his way through the headstones to find the grave he was looking for.

"Hey Kristy," he said softly as he placed the bouquet on the grave.  "I guess it's been awhile since I've come out here."

Taking a deep breath he looked up to study the park like setting.  "I don't know if you really were just a figment of my imagination or not, but it doesn't matter.  I know you were never perfect, but you were always smiling and willing to listen to me.  I appreciated that."

Nick eased himself down before the headstone.  "You helped me out when I was on that operating table – real or not.  I was lost and confused – and probably dying.  But you were there to help me.  I'm glad."  He reached out and traced her name with a fingertip.  "I just wanted to say thank-you."

He drew his hand back and pushed to his feet.  "I've never forgotten you."

****************************************************************************

Finally!  I have posted!  Albeit a short chappie – and the final one too.  Sorry.  I won't bore you with the annoying details of my life that have prevented me from posting earlier.  I hope everyone has enjoyed the story.  And I wish I could thank each reviewer individually for being faithful – but that would be at least another chapter in it's own right.  So, you all know who you are!  Thank-you!

BTW – I'm kicking around a story based on Butterflied.  I'm thinking a Nick/Sara/Grissom triangle thingy-maboober.  *insert evil laughter here*

But I'm making no promises.