A/N: Set shortly after "Stalker."
Katie James didn't think lightning was supposed to strike the same spot twice. After her husband died, she didn't think she'd be able to find love again.
But here she was, celebrating her two-month anniversary with a great guy. Sitting in one of the nicest restaurants in Los Angeles, she smiled across the candlelit table at Craig, who winked back at her.
They just seemed to click. It's like he practically knew her even before they met, saying the right thing, laughing at the right jokes, knowing when to make a move and when to back off. And he was even good with Melony
Katie guessed it was about time she had some good luck in her life.
The two of them had been staring into each other's eyes all night, and Katie was beginning to think that tonight would be the night they took things a little further in their relationship. And that thought, while exciting, also scared her. It would be the first time since Pete, and only the second guy ever. And it had been so long…
Craig must have been having the same thoughts because he paid the bill in record time, standing up to leave instead of enjoying a few more minutes of conversation like usual. She took a deep breath and stood to follow him out.
They were kissing before the front door of her apartment was even closed, and Katie made a mental note to thank Julie once again for letting Melony sleep over with Jessie. Craig walked her backwards toward the bedroom as they discarded clothes along the way.
He pushed her gently down on the bed, lowering himself down along with her. His hand brushed through her hair, down her cheek, behind her ear and came to a resting position gently caressing her neck.
Craig's mouth left hers, trailing kisses across her cheekbone over to her ear, which he gently drew into his mouth. His breath was hot on her neck as he whispered to her.
"The boss says to say hi to Pete … Karen."
Her eyes went wide as his hand on her neck started squeezing.
His room was the muted green color of night-vision goggles. The only sound was the deep breathing of him sleeping and the soft murmur of Nigel Crane talking to himself up above in the attic as he watched him.
Instantly he was at the office, looking through the one-way mirror at Crane, tuning Grissom out as the older man spouted off science crap about it not being about him. He fought the urge to scream at his boss, asking him how he would feel if he switched places with the bugs he stared at under the microscope all day long.
Because that's how he felt knowing Nigel Crane had watched him – as vulnerable as an insect waiting to be squished by the person above him.
Now he was falling, falling, falling as the broken glass showered down beside him, thinking to himself how it was odd that, in the short fall, he still had time to notice the light bounce off the shards. Knowing he wouldn't be bouncing off the ground.
And then came the landing.
Nick Stokes bolted upright in bed, sweat running into his eyes, lungs trying to draw in air. He fought the tears, hating the fact that he cried so easily.
Hating the walls around him and how they seemed to be closer every day. Waiting for the day when they would completely close around him and crush him.
Nick knew he had to leave this house. He couldn't stand it anymore, but he also didn't know if he could stand the looks of his co-workers, the whispers that would stop the second he walked in, the suggestions he talk to the department shrink.
He didn't want them to think less of him. And they would, too, because after all Grissom had told him it wasn't about him.
Disgusted at himself, angry at Grissom, afraid of Nigel Crane. When would he feel like there weren't eyes watching him anymore?
He threw the bedspread away from him, stumbling out to the kitchen for a glass of water. On his way out there, he saw the still damaged ceiling, saw the cupboard under the phone where he used to keep his spare gun, and promptly threw up on the T on his carpet.
The next morning, Nick Stokes put his house up for sale.
It took longer than he would have liked to find a new place and to get his house sold. If he had been forced to stay there much longer, he would have gone insane. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, could barely spend any time there – and none of it was relaxing.
And he didn't want to admit how much it hurt that none of his co-workers even noticed something was wrong.
That's why he was kind of glad it had taken so long to move. Now they wouldn't jump to the conclusion, although correct, that it was about Nigel Crane. Instead they bought his explanation that he wanted something a little smaller, a little newer, a little closer to work.
Finally the time came to start moving his stuff over to the new townhouse. Nick had gotten Warrick and Greg to agree to help – although he wasn't quite sure how much help Greg would be – and was waiting for them to show up for the first trip of boxes.
Nick sat in the now unfamiliar, bare kitchen, looking around at the neatly labeled brown cartons. He felt … lighter than he had in months, but he also couldn't shake the feeling that he was running away.
Like he ran away from Texas.
The doorbell clanged its way into his thoughts, thankfully pulling him away from his depressing frame of mind. It was time to be good ol' Nick for the boys. If they couldn't tell something was wrong, then, around them, nothing would be.
Nick smirked at Warrick and Greg as they walked in, looking tired and less than enthusiastic.
"You're going to owe us big time, buddy," Warrick grumbled.
"I'll buy you a beer after."
Warrick snorted. Greg didn't even waste time talking, instead making a beeline straight for the stack of boxes. He picked one up, pivoted around and glared at the other two, daring them to make a crack about it being one of the lighter ones.
Nick and Warrick followed his lead and picked up boxes themselves. When all three of their vehicles were full, his house was almost empty and sweat ran down their backs.
"Man. All I can say is I'm glad you hired someone to move the furniture," Warrick groaned, reaching around to massage his own shoulder.
"I didn't want to push my luck with you two," Nick teased, a twinkle in his eye.
"Why are you still in such a good mood?"
Because after today I'll never have to see that house again. Nick just smiled and shrugged, climbed into his driver's seat and led the way out of the neighborhood.
Emma Graves sat with Jenny and Maggie on their porch, as the three woman pretended to be gossiping while actually watching the movers carrying furniture into the townhouse between theirs and Emma's.
"Wow. Just…wow," Jenny sighed, as her roommate fanned herself.
Emma snickered at the two women, thinking once again how lucky she was to have made such great friends after only a couple weeks in Vegas.
"How come I didn't have that hot of movers?"
"I know! We would have introduced ourselves so much sooner if you had!"
Emma laughed.
"I hope whoever is moving in is male and hot," Jenny snickered.
"Oh, please," Maggie said. "When are we ever that lucky?"
The three leaned forward in anticipation as two SUVs and a sedan pulled to the curb.
"Hmm. Not bad, not bad." Maggie said.
"Don't you guys feel the least bit embarrassed ogling like this?" Emma squirmed in her seat.
Jenny and Maggie both turned to stare at her, dumbfounded.
"Hon, you're talking to exotic dancers here. Turnabout's fair play."
"True, true."
"Y'know. I could take any one of them as a new neighbor."
"Hopefully it isn't two of them moving in as roommates, if you know what I mean."
"HA!"
"Hey, they'd still be good eye candy."
The women giggled.
They watched the next few trips between the vehicles and the townhouse in silence.
"Maybe we should go introduce ourselves."
"Oh, you are so transparent, Jenny."
"What? Like you weren't thinking it!"
"It would be the neighborly thing to do."
The roommates stood and each grabbed one of Emma's hands to pull her up from her chair. Jenny led the way across the green grass, calling out to the guys as they walked back toward the street.
"Hi there!"
The men turned, and Emma almost stopped dead in her tracks, in awe of the dazzling grin on the guy closest to them.
"Hi," a soft Texan drawl responded.
"Are all three of you moving in?"
"Uh, no. Just me. Nick Stokes," he held out his hand, shaking each of theirs in turn.
"Jenny Jones. This is Maggie McKinnick and Emma Graves. Maggie and I live there," Jenny pointed to their house, then toward Emma's. "And Emma and Lisa live there."
"Nice to meet you. These are two of my co-workers, Warrick Brown and Greg Sanders."
"Do you need any help?"
"Thanks, we only have a few boxes left, plus a few more back at my old place. We'll be okay."
"Alright. Let us know if you change your mind." Maggie and Emma shared a quick amused glance at the flirty lilt to Jenny's voice.
They waved as the men drove off, and Jenny turned to face her friends.
"Christmas has come early this year."
"You are such a slut," Maggie laughed.
Emma just shook her head at her neighbors.
"I have to go pick up Lisa from swim practice. I'll see you two later."
"See ya"
Nick didn't even look back as he walked out for the last time with the last box. He smiled at his friends, feeling completely at ease. Warrick's eyes were hard to see behind his sunglasses, but Nick felt him watching as he made his way toward them.
"Warrick and I decided we're going to be visiting you all the time."
"I'd say that's nice, but I have a feeling you wouldn't be coming to see me."
"Don't know what you're talking about, man."
"Yeah. Right."
Once in his car, Nick finally risked a look back at the place he had called home for the last few years. His heart constricted almost painfully. He wasn't sad about leaving; he was scared leaving wouldn't help.
Warrick and Greg took a raincheck on the beer, electing instead to go home and relax.
Nick had been working on emptying out the boxes, relishing in the simple pleasure of figuring out where this picture frame would go or that bookcase. After a few hours he decided to take a break and went to the kitchen – of course, he had unpacked only half of those boxes so far, and, as he looked through the remaining ones, he realized they put a damper on his plans.
He put his hands on his hips, blowing out a breath in disappointment. He really wanted some lemonade.
Then a startingly beautiful pair of brown eyes flashed through his memory, and he turned his head in the direction of the next door neighbor's house with an inexplicably faster beating heart.
He ran a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to change his shirt or check his appearance in the mirror. Knocking on the door, he took a deep breath. He was caught off guard when a young girl answered the door.
"Hi."
"Hi…is your mom here?"
"Yeah, just a second," the girl turned and took a few steps toward the stairs. "Mo-om!"
He watched as Emma walked out of an upstairs room to lean over the banister.
"Nick!" she smiled as she went down the stairs. "Uh, this is my daughter Lisa."
Nick smiled and held out his hand to shake the hand of the now giggling, blushing child.
"Pleased to meet you," he emphasized his drawl, quickly feeling at ease around the girl – a benefit of being an uncle so many times over.
Emma reached the door, smiled at Lisa and gently pushed her back toward the living room and Aladdin.
"Are you moving in okay?"
"Uh, yeah." Emma smiled at the blush growing on the handsome man's face. "This may sound incredibly clichéd, but…uh….can I borrow a cup of sugar?"
Emma arched an eyebrow, a smile ghosting her lips.
"I really want lemonade."
Emma finally let out a guffaw.
"I have bad news for you, Nick. I just used the last of my sugar to make Lisa some lemonade. So I can't offer you a cup of sugar. But I can offer you a cup of lemonade."
The two neighbors smiled at each other, and she stepped aside to let him enter.