Privacy by SLynn

Disclaimer: It's all mine, because yeah, this is what I'd do with my free time if I actually owned these characters.

Notes: When I started this story I thought I was making up the name of a Las Vegas paper when I chose the Sun. Turns out, the Sun exists. It's a good paper and I, by no means, mean to disparage it. I considered going back and changing it throughout, but it would be too time consuming at this point.

Chapter 22: Flicker

Sara and Greg had a long night on the scene. Without question this was not a suicide, but there was still plenty to do and collect. At the lab little luck was had. Archie had tracked down the owners of the domain, but search warrants would have to wait. It was early Saturday morning and no judge was about to issue anything without it being anything less then dire circumstances. In other words, life or limb. It would have to wait.

Nick pursued the fingerprints he'd found in Greg and Sara's house while Warrick and Catherine continued to work on the Warner case. At the end of shift Grissom wanted them all to go to breakfast, give everyone a chance to talk outside the office. They hadn't gone in a long time and he welcomed the change.

The last time they'd gone out like this Amy had gone with them. Nick was actually relieved she'd had the night off, her last night of vacation time, so he didn't have to otherwise explain her absence to everyone. Greg and Sara knew by now, but he was dreading it become public that they were no longer together.

After ordering Grissom began.

"What do we know?" he asked the table.

"Well," Sara answered, "that someone is going to great lengths to cover their tracks at the Warner house."

Grissom shook his head and they all looked confused.

"I don't want to talk about that case."

If it wasn't the Warner case, they knew which one he meant. The only one he could mean.

"Okay," Catherine started, "the break in was clean. Nothing busted, few tracks. The only prints we got were off of the ceiling."

"And so far," Nick interjected, "no luck. They've been running half the night. Jacqui said it was going to take some time, they weren't exactly clean. The ceiling was flat, but not entirely."

"So do you still think there's a mole at the lab?" Warrick asked catching half the table off guard.

Greg hadn't even told Sara, so only him, Warrick and Grissom were in on it still.

"Yes," Grissom said, "they just haven't shown themselves yet."

"What mole?" Catherine asked.

"We've been conducting experiments," Greg answered, "seeing who hates me enough to talk with Anderson."

"Not exactly," Grissom countered, "Warrick and Greg planted three stories around the office to see which, if any, showed up next in the paper."

"So far," Warrick continued, "nothing. I've been checking every day. He's been quiet lately."

"Is that why I heard you've been mislabeling evidence?" Nick asked Greg.

"Hodges," Greg and Warrick said together, not surprised.

"I heard you contaminated it," Catherine put in.

"That would be Gretchen," Greg said.

Gretchen was the part time receptionist for the lab. Grissom had asked Greg specifically which people he'd thought might be willing to say anything about him and he'd named her, Hodges and Jacobs an intern who worked with Bobby sometimes.

"Yeah," Warrick said turning to him, "we only did our 'routine' for people we knew had problems with you but I never understood why we picked her. What'd you ever do to Gretchen?"

Greg fixed him with a stare, a blush creeping up his neck. Nick and Catherine suppressed a laugh. They both knew why, just from different sources. Sara did laugh.

"Greg," she said, "I know you went out with her. I'm only shocked Warrick didn't. She was telling anyone who would stop and listen what a jerk you were for months."

"What did you do?" Warrick asked, amused even.

Before he could answer, Nick stepped in.

"In Greg's defense the girl is psycho."

"And she isn't talking to Anderson," Grissom cut in. They were getting way off topic. "Let's concentrate on what we know."

"We know that whoever his source is they've either got access to case files or in close enough proximity to glean the information for themselves," Catherine said.

"Have we completely ruled out that Anderson isn't just getting this information for himself somehow?" Greg asked. "I mean, there was a camera in our house. Couldn't he have other places wired?"

"Good point," Grissom said, "We'll check into that. What else?"

"Not much," Catherine answered, "I don't think Jaime Hutchinson was involved in that part. She should be returning your things today."

Greg and Sara both nodded.

"We need more evidence," Grissom said with a note of finality.

After breakfast Nick contemplated driving over to Amy's but ultimately decided on heading home. She undoubtedly didn't want to see him, even if he did want to see her. Finding her sitting on his steps just then came as a surprise.

"You could have let yourself in," he said as he walked up to her.

"Didn't feel right," she admitted standing up.

He could see why she'd come. With her was a box. Nick didn't even have to guess at what was inside; he knew that it was his things from her place.

He opened the door and ushered her in.

"Sorry you had to wait," he said, trying to at least be courteous.

"I haven't been here long. I figured you might be later then usual considering everything."

Amy set the box on his counter and then didn't know what else to do.

"I was picking up," she said by way of explanation, "getting ready for the move, and I thought you might want these back."

Nick nodded.

"I haven't had a chance to get your things together," he said. "I've been kind of busy with work."

Truthfully, he hadn't wanted to do it.

"No hurry," she said, starting to fidget. "it's not like you don't know where I'll be."

Nick managed a small smile, but just barely. Amy matched it, but it didn't last.

"Have you found a new place?" he asked.

"Not yet. Greg was going to give me some pointers. He's pretty much lived in every apartment complex in the city."

"If you need someone to go check them out with you…"

"I don't think that's such a good idea," she cut him off.

They both looked down and said nothing more.

"I should go," Amy said taking in a deep breath.

"Wait," Nick called out, catching her hand and stopping her at the door, "Amy. Can't we talk about this? Really talk? I don't want this to be over."

"I don't know what else we can say."

She didn't try to remove her hand from his, but didn't meet his eye either.

"I wasn't, I didn't…" he stammered, "I only wanted what was best for you. I wanted you to be happy."

"I was happy," Amy argued.

She felt herself growing angry and tried to contain it.

"I didn't want you passing up something that could be great because of me."

"But you didn't bother to ask whether or not I wanted these great things. No one did. Nick, I like what I do. I know I'm not out solving the world's problems and I'm alright with that. I was alright with that because I felt like I was at least doing my part. But between my parents and you, now I just feel worthless. Like what I do for a living isn't important enough for anyone to even want to do it. I knew my parents felt that way; I just didn't know you did."

"Amy I don't…"

"No," she cut him off again, "you obviously do."

"It really isn't like that. I do respect what you do, Amy."

"Then why?" she asked, "Why else except maybe to get rid of me? Why would you try to push me into it? Push me away."

"Because I felt guilty. I felt like if you didn't take that job it would be my fault."

"My mother is very good," Amy agreed.

"Sometimes I feel like were at different places in our lives," Nick conceded.

"Different ages you mean," she said instead.

Now he nodded. He didn't want to feel that way, but couldn't help it. Ten years was a big gap and when he'd been twenty-three he hadn't thought about the same things he did now at thirty-three. It was hard to picture Amy as being any different.

"Maybe we don't want the same things," Amy continued, sounding hurt and finally pulling away from him some.

"Amy," Nick said, his voice starting to sound thick to his own ears. Coming closer now, relieved she didn't pull away further. "Please. The only thing I want right now is you."

Nick hazarded a few steps closer; tentatively he put his hands on her forearms. He whispered a few words into her hair, his lips just grazing her forehead. She relaxed a bit from the contact and he caught her eyes with his. Amy's eyes were brighter then usual with unshed tears. He hesitated before leaning in to kiss her on the lips.

"I can't," Amy said pulling away suddenly. "I can't."

"What can I do?" he asked, pleaded even. "What can I do to set this right?"

"Just give me some time," she answered. "Let me think about it."

Nick nodded; he really didn't have much choice.

"I should go," she said stepping back again, hand on the door. "I'll see you tonight at the lab."

"Okay," he replied walking over to the door to see her out. "But I'm serious. I'll do what ever it takes."

Amy smiled at him, the first real one he'd seen from her in days. She waved goodbye and he felt a small flicker of hope. He still had a chance; he just had to make sure he didn't blow it.