Dedication: Almeida's-Angel24, who loves Harry T's and still has her Harry T's t-shirt (along with everyone else in the entire Southeastern United States…it's like required attire). First person to email me with the story of their life gets to be the dedication in the next chapter.
A/N: A New Zealand reader informed me that Michael Murphy is the name of the New Zealand Idol winner. Sorry—unintentional. Every single name of every single person in this story (from the ballet dancers in Sara's flashback to the other rape victims) is someone from my life—and Michael Murphy just happens to be the name of a friend of mine. This guy is a friend from the cradle. I had lunch with him and his brother last Sunday, so I thought I'd toss his name in the story somewhere. On another note, I've never been there, but New Zealand rocks. Everybody who now wants to visit New Zealand because of Lord of the Rings, raise your hands. That's what I thought.
Meanwhile, back at the lab…again…
Nick snapped his phone shut with a self-satisfied grin. This was gonna be good. He had stepped into the break room for a coffee refill and decided to call Sara. Now he got to see the look on Catherine's face when he dropped the big bombshell.
He found the rest ofthe team in the layout room. Catherine, Warrick, and Greg were bent over a huge pile of shredded paper. It was going to be a long night.
"Hey, guys," Nick said. The team looked up and saw Nick standing in the doorway, shit-eating grin in place.
Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Got something you want to share, Nick?"
He sauntered in and surreptitiously glanced around, making sure they were alone. "As a matter of fact, Catherine, I do."
"Give."
"I just got off the phone with Sara." Nick was going to drag this out.
Catherine looked annoyed. "And?"
"And it turns out that Grissom did something quite interesting at dinner tonight."
Greg, Catherine, and Warrick looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Finally, Warrick spoke. "Ok, I'm not sure I want to know, but I'll bite. What did he do?"
Nick's grin grew even larger. "He asked her to move in with him. She said yes."
"WHAT?!" Catherine screeched. Warrick clamped a large hand over her mouth, reminding her to shut-the-hell-up-before-we-get-them-fired.
"What?" Catherine tried again.
"Yup. They're shackin' up together, y'all. Hell has indeed frozen over, and I believe I saw a little piggy flying up in the sky on my way in tonight."
Catherine's mouth was hanging open in stunned disbelief, and Nick took the opportunity to return the favor by whipping out his phone and snapping a picture. She recovered enough to try to grab the phone from him, but Nick was faster.
Warrick was still stuck back on Nick's announcement. "Wait. Hold up, dude. You mean Grissom—as in 'What are you doing at my house, my precious inner sanctum' Grissom—asked Sara to invade his personal space and move in with him?" He looked at Nick like he'd just grown a third eyeball.
"Yep. He's got it bad, y'all. He's the one who told me!"
"GRISSOM told you this? Not Sara?" Nick was starting to think Catherine might have a nervous breakdown.
Nick nodded, and Warrick started laughing. "This is unbelievable, man. What's happened to him?"
Greg piped up for the first time. "Sara happened to him, dude. Have you looked at her, man? She's hot! If I could get her to sleep with me, I'd ask her to move in, too!"
"Shut up, Greg!" three people yelled in unison.
Warrick had one final thought on the situation. "Ecklie's gonna shit a brick when he hears about this."
Nick answered, "Well, we'll have to make sure that doesn't happen."