A/N: Well, this took a little bit longer than I actually anticipated. Sadly the chapters are just sitting innocently enough, here on my harddrive, but I just wasn't too sure about it...Then, I said screw it...whatever...I'm not writing my memoirs, here. It's fanfiction. So, it's time to just dive in. Anyway, I will try to be a little better about it. Sorry for the delay.

It wasn't everyday you decided to become a new man. To shed the skin of a life spent pleasing everyone.Putting yourself second, sometimes even third or fourth and always trying to see something good in an almost impossible situation. These were seen by many as character flaws. Weaknesses to be exploited. Yet they were as much a part of his genetic makeup as they were something that made up the very essence of his existence.

He knew he could never stray far from the values and personality trait's he had so masterfully cultivated in his lifetime. Nick knew he needed to re-exam and possibly re-invent himself. This was his call to action and he was ready to step forward with a new phase to his life.

The unknown would no longer intimidate him. He would boldly and without hesitation approach his life and not worry about what others thought of him. There were no shadows or expectations he would need to live up to. It sounded selfish, momentarily, but he realized as of this minute, right here right now. Nick Stokes did not need to prove himself to anyone. He had unshackled himself from the bonds he had found himself so tightly bound for so long.

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Sara had had enough. She had faced hardships and bad times in her life. Most of her past a mystery even to the friends she allowed into her private little world. There were not many in that exclusive club. Over the years she had built a protective wall around her self. A safe haven to keep the darkness of humanity out to stay safe from the world.

Weakness was not something she could afford to show. That meant vulnerability in all its big and smallest forms. Most importantly, at least in her eyes, never let them see you cry. Even with the worst that society showed to her. Tears were a sign of frailty. A handicap she could ill afford to demonstrate.

The events of the past weeks had challenged her resolve and lately the effort to keep these hated emotions in check was becoming more demanding and harder to fight off.

These had truly been the hardest days she could ever remember living through. That fact spoke volumes of the emotions she now felt she wore on her sleeve.

Yet she clung to the belief, that even in these desperate times, she had to keep her emotions concealed and remain safely secluded behind her protective wall.

The hateful words Warrick had bitterly spoken to her had stung the young woman. Even more, they had cut her deeper and with more vengeance than even she was willing to admit. Though, she knew that these were just thoughtless words spit out in a heated and uncensored moment. It, nonetheless, didn't take away the intense sting.

Walking into the sudden coldness of the women's restroom. Sara quickly scanned underneath the stall doors of the small bathroom. With sweet relief she ducked into the handicap stall, locked it calmly and slid down the wall. As her body fell to a boneless heap on the floor the tears that had been safely hidden in the damn of her deep brown eyes opened up and all the young woman could do was give in to the emotion she worked so hard to hide.

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Catherine slammed the office door and clutched both of her fists tightly. The knots in her stomach were straining. Without another word, she melted into her chair and picked up her glasses off her desk. Picking up an opened and forgotten file she stared at the words on the pages. The words could have been in Arabic for all she knew. Throwing the file back down she slowly took off her reading glasses and folded them carefully. Studying the dark plastic of the rims she clutched the frames tighter and tighter.

For all the good it did us to find him. This time her dark haired Texan had disappeared. Only the wound it left behind was far more painful than seeing him even on the monitor when he was kidnapped. That situation seemed hopeless and the outcome so bleak. Yet, there was always a part of the woman that knew they would get Nick back. They would get him back safely and never let him out of their sights again.

Nick's vanishing act was far worse for she knew that this was the act of a desperate man who had finally had the proverbial straw hit his back. This time he might be gone for good. Even knowing that he was probably doing OK on his own didn't help stem the intensely raw yet tender feeling she had for this man she had worked side by side with and developed such a fondness for.

Had he finally reached the end of his rope? Staring back down at her glasses she clutched even tighter as her eyes stole across a picture on her desk of happier times. The whole graveyard team was together, a family united and bonded together. Looking at the picture a little closer it was if they all had no cares in the world. But that's the thing about pictures…sometimes they only tell bits and pieces of a story. Studying the picture once more she saw that little twinkle in Nick's eyes. The one he got when he was going to be up to no good. The look she would have paid a thousand ransoms to see again.

Without warning Catherine crunched the offensive glasses in her hand. Enjoying the crack of the strained plastic, she couldn't help feel just a little bit better when she, without hesitation, threw the glasses at a nearby bookcase. It solved absolutely nothing but for a moment it released a month and a half worth of tension.

Swiping the picture off her desk she studied the smiles and laughter of her teammates. She could almost hear Warrick kidding around with Nick as they posed for the picture. Certainly she saw Grissom's eye's role as Nick cracked a joke at Warrick's expense.

A sad smile played across Catherine's face as she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Moving the picture across her chest she said a small prayer that someone was watching over her Nicky.

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Nick sat in the parking lot lost in the continued air traffic steadily increasing as the day wore on. Resting his head back against the headrest he closed his eyes and let the soft rumblings of the various Piper's and Cessna's in transient parking relax him even further. That is, before the rumblings of his own stomach nudged him out of his aviation trance. He hadn't realized just how hungry he had become.

Luckily, there was a restaurant on the second floor of the very small airport terminal building he was parked in. Finding his way upstairs, he chuckled at the little Mexican restaurant that happily greeted him. Casa Machado Mexican Bar and Grill had probably never been remodeled or renovated in all its time in operation. The dilapidated booths were a tacky orange vinyl. The faded dingy olive green tabletops showed the many years of uninterrupted use. Dusty model planes were proudly displayed overhead as a salute to modern aviation.

Looking up on a shelf there was a manger scene that was still sitting out in the middle of July. As Nick looked closer he noticed the very dusty baby Jesus was laying in a cradle made of aluminum foil. Laughing to himself he opened the weathered menu when the young waitress in a brightly colored skirt snuck up on him and took his order.

While he waited, he got an even better look of the runways, air traffic tower, fuel islands and busy hangars of this impressive general aviation airport. It was amazing really. Like a small city confined to one seemingly postage stamp place. Two busy runways were in use as planes taxied and took off for places unknown. Or simply stayed in the pattern of the airspace and did touch and go's.

Within a few minutes his waitress returned with his food. Picking up his fork like a man who hadn't seen food in week he ravenously dug into the food.

Though the restaurant had been pretty quiet the lunch hour was drawing a bigger crowd as people from local businesses, aviation enthusiasts and regulars from the airport converged for a quick bite to eat or just to catch up on the airport gossip. The busy restaurant soon buzzed with activity. Old pilots and student pilots each swapping "big fish tales" as they too watched the hum of the airfield.

As Nick was finishing up his lunch a short stocky man stopped by his table and with a thick Greek accent asked if he could sit. Nick obliged and the man took a seat noisily as he looked around the packed cantina.

"Don't think I've seen you in here before. My name is Constantine Aleksakis but everyone calls me Gus." Studying the young man in front of him, Gus picked up Nick's ice water and smiled as he watched the ice cubes dance around the glass. After a moment he stared back at his new friend, "What is your name?"

Without missing a beat the Texan stared back at the curious man and smiled. "My name is Matt, Matt Peterson."

Gus thoughtfully stared at the dark haired man. Picking up the menu, without really looking at it, he put it back down and looked out the window. A few minutes past and the waitress asked the familiar Greek man if he would be ordering the "usual". With a sly grin, Gus nodded and handed back the menu to the young girl.

The silence enveloped the small table as Nick pushed away his plate and slowly wiped his mouth. The painful silence was finally broken as Gus once again studied his newest friend. Reminding Nick of how Grissom would study and analyze his bug friends. Rubbing at the slight whiskers on his chin. Gus looked deeply at the man across the table "What is your real name?"

Feeling trapped but trying hard not to look like he had been caught. Nick looked away quickly for his waitress. Looking back he still saw the older man continue to stare.

"My name's Matt."

"I know that is who you say you are…but who are you really?

Nick managed to fumble a half smile as he looked back into the inquiring eyes of the man.

Chuckling slightly, Nick shook his hand and finally answered. "My name is Nick."