a/n: Yeah, it's coming together with this chapter. Hope y'all like it!

Stalker #2

Nick woke up the next morning to his cell phone ringing. He groaned as he turned over to grab it.

"Stokes," he said tiredly.

"Nick." It was Sara. "Where are you?" She sounded a bit upset.

"Hotel," Nick said, rubbing his eyes. "My place was just weirding me out a bit." He heard her sigh.

"You had us freaking out over here," Sara said. "How are you feeling now?" Nick rolled out of his bed and quickly caught himself on the bedpost.

"Okay. I chewed out a reporter yesterday, so I'm feeling a bit better," Nick said with a faint smile. He heard Sara laugh.

"Yeah, Warrick told us."

"No, this was a different one," Nick said. "She actually followed me to the hotel."

"Psycho."

"Yeah."

He heard Sara take a deep breath over the phone. "Well, we just wanted to make sure you're okay. Call us if you need anything, okay?" she said.

"I will." Nick set his phone down and looked around the room. He hadn't really noticed it yesterday. The first thing he'd done was check the windows (even though he was on the 11th floor) and put his gun under his pillow.

And what am I going to do today?

He got ready and started wandering around the Strip. Why, he didn't know. He didn't have anything else to do.

Technically, he wasn't supposed to be out and about, but Nick didn't really want to sit around and worry about Nigel Crane.

But then he started thinking about Crane, how he could be anywhere. Nick quickly left the roulette table at the MGM Grand. As he left the lobby, though, he saw her.

It was that blonde reporter again. He glared at her, and quickly cut through a crowd of tourists.

"Nick!" he heard behind him. He sighed. He didn't want to rehash yesterday.

Nick clutched his side, noticing it this time. It was starting to ache, just a dull tenderness that reminded him he shouldn't be here. He grimaced and moved on, heading for where he left his car.

He knew she was behind him again. Nick sighed and finally stopped, but he didn't turn around. He waited for her to come around and face him.

"Nick," she said, out of breath. "Please, two questions, that's all."

"My question first," Nick interrupted. "Who are you?"

"Sam Davis," she said, extending a hand. Nick ignored it. "My questions: One, what happened while you were kidnapped? And two, are you afraid of Nigel Crane?"

Nick stared hard at the woman. He could hear the blood rushing through him, the building anger and disbelief. He could also feel his body wearing down. His stunned silence lasted for awhile, while the crowds around them moved on.

"Sam," he said, fixing her with a hard glare, "Why do you think I would tell you anything?"

"It must have been hard for you," she said. "Traumatic." She took a step towards him, and placed a hand on his arm. Nick looked down at the contact, then back at her.

"Yes, it was," Nick said. "But what makes you think I'd tell you of all people?" He stepped back, breaking off her advance. As he moved, a sudden pain shot through his side. He winced, but tried to cover it up.

"Are you all right?" Sam stepped forward again, laying a hand on his shoulder this time.

"I'm fine. Just leave me alone." Nick turned away and walked on his way to his car. He could hardly hide a limp from his movement.

"So Nick's at a hotel?" Grissom said. Catherine nodded.

"Sara said he was freaked out, being at home," she said. That didn't surprise Grissom. In fact, he should have anticipated it.

"We should have made arrangements for him," he said. He shook his head. "Anything new on Crane?"

Catherine shook her head. "We can't find out anything more about his life. He seems to have come from nowhere before he came here."

"And no one's seen him," Grissom added. He sighed and took off his glasses. "You know, Crane's good at being invisible. I don't know if he meant to be or not, but he's stayed under people's radar before."

Catherine nodded. "And he's doing it again. Do you think he's still after Nick?" There was no hesitation in Grissom's nod.

"Everything in those tapes points to Nick," Grissom said. "Jane Galloway was a gift for Nick, as twisted at that sounds. I don't think Nigel would move on to a new person."

"Unless it too was a gift for Nick," Catherine pointed out. Grissom froze and looked at the blonde.

Nick couldn't take it anymore. Sure, his body was still achy, and sure, hiding in his room had its advantages. But he was so bored that he'd begun to stack the free toiletries and glasses into an aesthetically-pleasing tower.

He grabbed his jacket, gun, and wallet, and left his room.

He got to the lab and inside without anyone noticing. Then again, it was 10 o'clock at night. When Nick reached the lounge, he saw Sara and Catherine talking over Greg's coffee. They both looked up when he came into the room.

"What are you doing here?" Sara immediately scolded. Catherine shot him that parent look, and Nick held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Nice to see you all too," he said. "I got bored."

"Well, you're not working," Catherine said. She had that no-nonsense attitude in place, and Nick felt the need to take cover.

"No, you're not," came a voice from behind him. Nick knew who it was without turning around.

"Hey Gris," he said. Grissom walked by him to get a cup of coffee. "I know I'm not supposed to work—"

"You're not going to convince me otherwise," Gil said. Nick nodded and tried again.

"I know, but—"

"But nothing—you should be in bed," Sara filled in. Nick threw up his hands in frustration.

"Just let me get one sentence out, please," he said, looking from her face to each of the others. They all waved for him to go on. "Thank you. As I was saying, I'm not here to work or obsess about Crane, or anything. I just need to get out."

"So go see a movie or go on a date," Grissom said. Nick rolled his eyes.

"Come on, man, I just want things to be back to normal," he said. He didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to sound desperate. "Please, just let me stay, even if I'm not working. Give me a book to read, for all I care."

Gil glanced at Catherine and Sara, then back to Nick.

"Fine," he said, turning to a bookshelf by the breakroom's kitchenette. He picked a book off of the shelf and tossed it to Nick. "Read this."

Nick caught the book and read the title.

"'The Nevada Entomological Guide.' Gee, thanks, Grissom." He shot his boss a look, but Grissom merely shrugged and pointed to the couch. Nick sighed and flopped down on it.

Grissom frowned as he heard Brass's new case. "I'll be right there." He hung up and grabbed his kit.

Warrick was in the breakroom, smirking at Nick as he woke up and pretended he never fell asleep in the first place. Grissom poked his head in the room.

"Warrick, let's go. We've got a new case." Warrick jumped up from his seat.

"What is it?" he asked. Grissom's eyes fell on the book he gave Nick. It looked like the young CSI had only gotten five pages into it.

"Female DB, a reporter named Samantha Davis," Grissom said. He heard Nick gasp and saw the color drain from his face.