Five years have passed. I am still coordinating the night shift. Warrick and Catherine are still by my side. The other CSIs have come and gone. The lab has been in a state of flux since they left.

The seasons have come and gone. The holidays have passed uneventfully. Nick has sent cards on birthdays and Christmases. He has come back to Vegas twice. Once he came to present at a forensics conference. The second time he came to see Warrick and the casinos. He stopped by the lab. Nicky didn't look much different. His skin was slightly tanner. He looked happy. He said that he was happy. He was still working with Sara and Greg in San Francisco. He talked about how much he likes his job. I ask him if he ever thought of coming back. Nicky hesitates . . . he says he loves where he is right now.

I am happy to see him. I'm happy that he still remembers me. Sometimes, I wonder if Sara and Greg remember me. I miss them. I tell Nicky that I miss them. I ask if Sara and Greg are well. He says they are. He says Greg got married last year. Greg's wife is expecting a child. Nicky says Sara is well. He says that she is happy. She's seeing someone. They are very happy . . . they are planning a wedding. Nicky doesn't use names. I'm glad he doesn't. It makes it more anonymous . . . a little less hurtful. They have moved on with their lives. I wish I could move on with my life, but I miss them so much.

Today, I wait for a plane to land. The three that left us five years ago are coming back. They are chasing a serial murderer. The murders have roots in the Bay area, but he has relocated to Los Angeles and has settled in Las Vegas. They are coming to look at the evidence that I so diligently collected two weeks ago. The murder is taunting them. He leaves notes at the crime scene. They are wicked . . . the letters ask for Sara to catch him before another girl is dead.

"Grissom," Nicky says as I watch the three weary travelers leave the concourse with their luggage in hands.

"Welcome back. The evidence is at the lab," I say as I greet them. I'm trying hard to play down my excitement. I feel as though for a few days my lab might be complete.

"We should stop at the hotel first. Emily wants me to call her to let her know that the plane landed okay," Greg said yawning.

"Your wife?" I ask as they follow me to the parking garage.

"My wife. My daughter, Grace, has probably clocked out for the night," Greg replies. He sounds irritated that he needs to be here. It's obvious that he would rather be in San Francisco with his family. Sara is quiet. She looks just as stunning as the day she left. Her hair is a little longer. The sun has bleached it a little. Her skin is a golden brown. She looks beautiful and healthy. It's a far cry different from when she left.

"Nicky, you don't mind going to the hotel, do you? I want to call my mom. Make sure that everything at home is okay," Sara asks yawning.

"Sure," Nick replies smiling at her. I listen to them dance around the words. I neglect to notice that he is holding her hand. She smiles at him. Their gait is comfortable. The way they move together is graceful. I don't want to see this.

"We could do that," I replied, "It's good to see you."

"It's nice to be back," Sara replied without any conviction. I didn't even believe that she was saying.

"You look well," I comment. Sara seems sick of the pointless conversation. Nick opens the car door for her. Greg sits in the front with me. Nick rests a hand on her thigh. It's hard to watch. The way they look at each other . . . her facial expression softens when he looks at her. She rests her head on his shoulder. He whispers something in her ear . . . it makes her smile. I realize that Sara had been seeing someone . . . she had been seeing Nicky. I see the ring on her left hand. My heart breaks a little more. I feel old in their presence. I feel lonely in their presence. They have all moved on to something better . . . leaving me behind.

The drive to the hotel was silent. Greg showed me pictures of his wife and baby girl while we were waiting at a stop light. The woman was beautiful. Thin, blonde, smiling. Greg beamed when he talked about her. Emily was a pediatrician. His daughter was beautiful. Grace looked so much like her father. Greg had found so much in San Francisco. He was so grown up. He was no longer the goofy, science dork that I used to know, but that personality was forever embedded in my memories. I could understand why he didn't send cards, he didn't visit, and he didn't miss Vegas.

I helped Sara with her luggage. She smiled at me. Over five years, the anger seemed to have softened. There was no reason to be angry anymore. Sara apparently had the world at her feet.

"So you're married?" I asked awkwardly while Greg and Nick went to check in.

"For two years. I'm sorry we didn't invite you . . . I didn't want to hurt you anymore," Sara said with tears in her eyes.

"You and Nick?" I asked. I looked at the ground.

"Me and Nick. We have a daughter. She's only eight months old. Her name is Holly . . . Nick insisted on that name," Sara replied.

"I'm sure she is beautiful," I replied.

"She is. She's lucky she looks like her father," Sara replied with a nervous laugh, "I've always meant to apologize for how I left. I didn't mean to say those things."

"Sara, you did what was best for you. You've done great things in San Francisco," I said.

"Grissom, I never forgot where I came from," Sara said smiling. I knew what she meant. I was glad to have Sara back in Vegas, but I knew this city had stifled her before. I found the resolution that I needed. I got to see how much Sara had grown as a person.

It was still hard to see Nick kiss her. The way that he held her hand. Sara said that she told me about their family. Nick apologized to me. I told him that I was happy for them. I asked to see a picture of Holly. Nick smiled. He said that he had a wallet full. He called Holly his baby girl. He said that he was so proud of both of his girls. Sara softly whispered that she wouldn't mind trying for a boy . . . she whispered so softly that I almost didn't hear. Her intention was not for me to hear. Greg smiled. Greg said that Emily wanted another child. Emily's grand plan was to have five children. Greg laughed. He said that Emily was already starting to look at mini vans.

I felt so isolated from their conversation. I was ten years their senior, but I had no words of advice to offer them. I felt inadequate as a mentor. I felt inadequate as a man. I had none of what they had. I still live in the same townhouse. I go home in the morning and watch the discovery channel. I sleep alone in my bed. My only social contacts are with my coworkers.

For as glad as I am that they are home, part of me wishes that I could live with only the memories of the young CSIs that would do anything to solve a case. They were all innocent in their own way. Today, they have matured . . . grown up. I have remained unchanged.