Author's Note: I'm sick and feel the need to be cheered up. Since posting makes me happy, I'm going to do so.You are benefitting from my infirmity, but don't expect to get updates so quickly in the future! Now, you're now going to learn "how it all came to this." Enjoy! And thanks for the kind reviews!

Chapter One

A few days earlier...

Nick Stokes pulled up in front of the Morrison home, located in the middle of an upper-middle class neighborhood. It was one of those cookie-cutter subdivisions where every house looked exactly the same. Every house was a light brown stucco with white trim, complete with a matching mailbox. Every lawn was well-manicured and though the flowers in each garden may have varied, the overall landscape design was the same. Stan Morrison's house was no exception.

The red and blue lights shining from the cop cars reflected eerily off the brown stucco. The usually quiet neighborhood was teaming with life. Cops were patrolling the area, simultaneously keeping the looky-loos at bay and trying to gather any useful information from them.

Exiting his vehicle, Nick walked up the pathway with his case swinging idly at his side. Feeling his heart start to pound a bit, he steeled his nerves for what was about to greet him. His anxiousness had nothing to do with the case. It had everything to do with Grissom.

The last few weeks had been nothing short of a nightmare. He was hoping that he'd be able to work his way back into the good graces of his boss, but Grissom had shown no signs of being appeased. No angels had come to liberate him from the purgatory he had found himself in ever since that night. Call it a moment of weakness. Call it a moment of stupidity. Call it a moment of blind infatuation. The night he spent with Kristy Hopkins seemed to have ruin Nick forever in the eyes of the man he tried so hard to please.

Kristy.

He had not allowed himself to think about her much since her death almost a month ago. It was all still too painful and not just because he had almost been arrested for her murder. He just couldn't get past the realization that he had failed her. All he had wanted to do was help her, save her from the lifestyle she had created for herself, but instead of rescuing her from this wayward life, Nick had nearly been destroyed by it.

Helping people was very important to him. That was one of the main reasons why Nick had become a CSI in the first place. He had felt sorry for Kristy, sensing that she had no one who cared for her. Having grown up in such a large family, the concept of being totally alone in the world was foreign to Nick and it seemed like a completely awful way to exist. He wanted to be that "someone" for Kristy - the person she could turn to for help and encouragement.

But she could not be saved. Indeed, if one were to take Jack's words as truth, it seemed that she had only told Nick what he wanted to hear. Full of his own grand visions of his success, he had fallen for her false promises and been lured into her bed. The thought of being made a fool made him nauseous. He wasn't sure if he should believe Jack, but then again, don't those in Kristy's profession make a living off telling men what they want to hear?

Nick forced those unpleasant thoughts from his mind. It would not due to have his attention split now. That would just give Grissom another reason to be annoyed at him. He needed to focus on the case.

He made his way inside the house and quickly surveyed the room. Everything appeared to be in order. There was no sign of a struggle in the front part of the house, but perhaps a more careful observation would yield different findings. He spotted his supervisor talking the Brass and walked over to them.

"Hey Grissom. Hey Brass. What do we know so far?" he asked looking from Grissom to Brass.

"Our missing person is Stanley Morrison, age 33. When he didn't show up for work today and didn't answer his phone, his secretary became concerned. She came over here and saw that his car was still here. Apparently, she has a key to Mr. Morrison's house." Brass cocked a suggestive eyebrow at this before continuing.

"She came inside and found the house empty. Mr. Morrison appears to have vanished, leaving his car, his keys, his wallet, and his cell phone behind." Brass finished.

"Stanley Morrison. Why does that name seem so familiar?" Nick asked, furrowing his brows together in an attempt to recall the information.

"About two months ago, he was the prime suspect in the murder of George Parsons, who incidentally was Morrison's best friend. There was not enough evidence to guarantee a conviction so the DA was unwilling to prosecute." Grissom said, filling in the pieces.

"Right." Nick nodded. "Ecklie's case."

Brass continued. "Parsons was engaged to a woman by the name of Rae Lynn Michaels. Their wedding was supposed to take place last month."

Nick exhaled slowly. "Well, she'd have a reason for snatching Morrison. We should definitely talk to her."

"Let's process the house before we start going after suspects, Nick. After all, we wouldn't want to do anything rash." Grissom spoke in clipped tones before he turned away from Nick.

Feeling his cheeks flush a bit, Nick sat his case down and opened it. 'This is going to be a long shift.' he thought as he snapped his latex gloves in place.

As he began to process the living room, Nick's thoughts strayed to Grissom who was working in the kitchen. The man did not appear to enjoy being in Nick's company these days, but didn't seem capable of letting the younger man out of his sights. When he wasn't paired up with Grissom on a case, he was paired with Catherine. Not Warrick. Not Sara. It was as if Grissom didn't trust Nick to do anything anymore with out the supervision of an elder.

Nick gritted his teeth in an effort to quell the emotions that were running rampant throughout him. It wouldn't do to allow them to get him down. He needed to stay positive. Maybe this was the case that would change things between him and his boss. Perhaps he'd finally find a way out from under Grissom's heel. Goodness knows he had been trying, but perhaps he hadn't been trying hard enough.

Noticing a point of disturbance by the side window, Nick moved forward to examine it more closely. There was a table next to the window and the vase had been knocked over. The water had pooled on the table, staining the wood almost black. Nick noticed that the window was open a bit.

"Just wide enough for a small person to squeeze through." Nick thought to himself. "Bet the kidnapper knocked over the vase in the process. If the victim had done it, he would have cleaned it up."

He photographed the open window and the table before pulling out his print powder. As he began to dust for prints, he could feel the critical eye of his supervisor monitoring his actions. Nick pretended not to notice. Indeed, Grissom peering over his shoulder was becoming quite a common occurrence these days. He didn't like it, but he hoped that by doing so, Grissom would soon start to feel confident again in his ability to due his job.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

He pulled a few prints off the window and its ledge, hoping that he find something to compare them to later. Turning around, his eyes scanned the room for any other thing that seemed out of place, but there wasn't anything. Everything else seemed to be in picture-perfect order. Stan Morrison must have prided himself on keeping his house immaculate.

Grissom reappeared in front of him, holding an evidence jar.

"Did you find anything?" the older man asked.

Nick was quick to rush on with his thoughts. "Yeah, this window is the only one open. It's just wide enough for a person with a slight build to squeeze through. I also noted that a vase on the table next to the window was knocked over. Our victim seems to be a real neat-freak so I'm assuming that if he had knocked over the vase, he would have cleaned it up. I managed to collect some workable prints."

"Yes, perhaps. That would be a reasonable assumption." Grissom nodded. "Did you photograph the window and the table before you dusted for prints?"

Nick nodded, feeling a touch deflated. That was a question that a rookie should be asked, not him. He was a level three CSI. He knew what to do.

Grissom held his jar up for Nick to see. "There was a glass sitting on the counter containing iced tea. It was half empty and again, I think our victim would have cleaned it up if he was done with it, which makes me wonder if there was a reason he was not able to finish it."

Catching on, Nick said, "You think he was drugged."

"If he was, we'll soon know." Grissom turned to leave. "Let's get back to work."

Nick exhaled slowly as he fought back the emotions that raged inside of him. Yes, indeed, it was going to be a long shift.

They spent the next few hours going over Stan Morrison's home with a fine tooth comb but had nothing else to show for all their trouble. Nothing else was out of place in their victim's spotless home. Nick still felt in his gut that the next best course of action was to speak to Rae Lynn Michaels as she was their best suspect at this point, but he didn't dare broach that subject again. Grissom wouldn't respond favorably to that - not unless the evidence pointed in that direction. So he'd wait patiently to see what the evidence revealed.

When he got back to the lab, he took his prints to the print lab. He found Mandy standing at the printer, waiting for it to spit out the results she had found.

"Hey Mandy. Got something for you." Nick said with a smile as he held the tape lifts in his hands. He leaned slightly on the counter in front of him.

"Hmm. Why am I not surprised?" She gave him a dry smile as she grabbed the results that had just been printed and turned to face Nick.

"What's that?" Nick nodded his head at the paper in the brunette's hands.

"Results from Warrick's robbery. He's going to be happy." Mandy waved the paper in her hand, smiling at her own success.

"Well, I could use some happiness. Work your magic." Nick slid the tape lifts across the counter and waited.

She stared at him. "Are you just going to stand there? Isn't there somewhere else you need to be? Some other evidence that you need to process?"

"We didn't collect a lot of evidence at the scene. These prints and a glass of iced tea that might be laced with something were all Grissom and I collected." Nick told her.

"Wouldn't you rather hang out with Greg while he processes your tea? He's more fun than me." Mandy asked suspiciously.

"Nah. Grissom's taking care of that. I'm kinda anxious about these prints. If you don't mind, I'll stay here and wait for the results." Nick tried to sound casual. Truth was, he just wanted to stay out of Grissom's way and out of trouble.

Mandy shrugged. "Suit yourself, but this could take a while."

"That's cool." Nick pulled up a stool and sat down.

He watched as she began to process his prints. Mandy made her work seem effortless. Nick could only imagine that processing prints day in and day out could get a little old. It wasn't like working trace where you never really knew what substance you were working with or ballistics where you got to test fire guns. It was just fingerprints. But Mandy didn't seem to mind. Her movements were so fluid and graceful that he quickly got caught up watching her work.

Finally, the computer emitted a beep and Mandy's face broadened into a smile.

"I've got a match for you." She told him happily.

"I knew you could do it. Let me have it." Nick said enthusiastically.

"Your prints belong to one Rae Lynn Michaels. Got her prints off her work card at the Tangiers." Mandy informed him. "I'm printing your results right now."

Nick left Mandy feeling very excited. He felt a touch vindicated in that his initial desire to check out Rae Lynn had been accurate. It wasn't that he wanted to prove Grissom wrong or anything like that. He just wanted his boss to realize that he wasn't completely useless.

He found Grissom with Greg, who was speaking animatedly about the iced tea Grissom had brought him.

"Hey Nick." the spiky-haired lab tech greeted him with a wave. "I was just telling Grissom what I found in your iced tea."

"What was it?" Nick asked he took up position next to Grissom.

"Chloral Hydrate." Greg said with wide-eyed amusement.

"Someone slipped him a Mickey." A smile tugged playfully at the corners of Nick's mouth.

"Yep! Enough to put you vic out like a light. He'll probably have one heck of a headache when he wakes up." Greg said.

"Nice work, Greg." Grissom offered the tech a rare smile.

Nick held up the results he had gotten from Mandy, anxious to share his findings as well. "Rae Lynn Michaels crawled through our vic's window."

Wordlessly, Grissom took the paper from Nick and read it. Furrowing his brows, he turned and walked out of the lab, waving for Nick to follow him.

"So are we gonna get Brass and head over to talk to our suspect?" Nick asked expectantly.

"Now that we have physical evidence pointing in the direction of Rae Lynn Michaels, that would be the next logical course of action." Grissom replied over his shoulder.

"Ms. Michaels used to live on the other side of town, but when her fiancee died, she moved in with a friend." Brass told them as they stood outside her condo.

"That's gotta be just terrible. Losing your fiancee like that and then the guy who killed him gets off. No wonder she did what she did." Nick commented.

"We don't know that she did anything other than break into his home. Let's stay focused on what we know for sure." Grissom told him.

The supervisor knocked on the door and waited for a response. They heard the sound of footsteps approaching and the door swung open to reveal a petite blonde woman.

"Rae Lynn Michaels?" Grissom asked uncertain.

"No. I'm her roommate, Sandra. Rae Lynn's not home right now." the woman told them. "What do you want?"

"My name is Gil Grissom. I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. It's imperative that we speak with Ms. Michaels. Do you know when she'll be back?" the scientist asked.

"No. Frankly, she should have been home a long time ago, but she's developed the habit of staying out for long periods of time." Sandra admitted.

"What do you mean by that?" Brass asked. He wondered if Rae Lynn had taken up stalking Stan Morrison.

"Well, things have been really rough for her the past two months what with George's death and all that. She would disappear for long periods of time and I started to get worried, but I found out that's when she was meeting with her shrink. He's been really good about making himself available for her whenever she needs to talk." Sandra told them.

"Do you think she's with her shrink now?" Brass inquired. Privately, he would bet big money that she was in some secret location torturing the man responsible for the murder of her fiancee.

"Yeah, probably. She spends more time talking to him than me, but as long as she's getting help, I'm okay with that." the blonde sighed and leaned her head against the door.

"What's her psychologist's name?" Grissom hoped Sandra would be able to provide them with a bit more information.

"Levi Prosper." Sandra said. "He came very highly recommended."

At her words, a chill washed over Nick. Dr. Levi Prosper. He wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with that man again. That man had given Nick the creeps from the first moment he had laid eyes on him. He glanced at Grissom and Brass and could tell that Sandra's words had a similar effect on them.

"Thank you very much for your time." Grissom said politely.

Sandra nodded and shut the door.

As the three men made their way down the walkway, Brass exhaled. "Well this should be interesting. I was wondering if I was ever going to hear the good doctor's name again."

Grissom gritted his teeth, his mind churning with a variety of thoughts. "Rae Lynn Michaels may have abducted Stan Morrison, but Dr. Prosper is our real threat. If he has his way, Stan Morrison will end up just like Thomas Sanford."