"Grissom, Griss what are we gonna do?" Nick was just a blur to the senior CSI, his words indigestible. The entire world around him seemed no more than blends of colors. Grey, black, yellow, blue, red. Lots of red. Red on Warrick's shirt, Catherine's shoes, Sara's hands. How had they all managed to hold him? How did so much blood spread? Nick stared in almost disbelief at his chief's silence. He turned to face the two way mirror, wishing for anything or anyone to grant him permission to enter the interrogation room. Less than five feet away was a killer, a man who just shattered eight different worlds in a fortnight. A man with eyes as cold as the steel he planted into the heart of a young man. The five CSIs stood and stared. Not at Erwin Reynolds, the murderer, but Nick. He had sunk to the floor portraying the same emotion as Grissom...numbness. When a hand outstretched to his shoulder, the young Texan could only look up. Warrick held a faint smile.

"Come on man, we gotta go tell her."

"Her?" Catherine asked between tears.

"His wife."

"Oh my God, I didn't even know he was married." Nick nodded to Catherine.

"Yeah, I believe this summer would've been...five or six years." She turned to Grissom hoping for him to finally give some instructions, or sympathy.

"Gill, if she's his age she's barely a child. They haven't committed all that long. Don't you think we should all go?" He finally turned his eyes towards the red head.

"Only Warrick and Nick...they need to be back by seven..." He left not long after. The two chosen men held their burden well, then proceeded to the Tarus. Sara and Catherine watched them leave. It was cold out, not a very common blessing for Las Vegans.

It was somewhat late by the time the two reached Blushing Rose Apartments. One of the higher scaled buildings, the place was known for its spacious well kept rooms. The one they were headed to just happened to be a suite, or so it was called. Two bedrooms, large kitchen, living room tastefully decorated, and a balcony overlooking the casinos. While Warrick had only glanced in, Nick had eaten there many a times. He knew the walls would be painted a melancholy blue, and the couch a paste white. He knew the carpet would feel soft to the touch and the lamps dimmed lower than usual. He also knew that in the back of the room, next to in his opinion the best window would be a woman in her early thirties late twenties with long black hair in a pencil bun, blue eyes overlooking bills and check stubs. She would be wearing grey sweat pants with her husbands favorite White Stripes t-shirt. She would most likely have the radio on, playing either her Judds cd or his Avenged Sevenfold. But, what Stokes could not fathom most, was she would be waiting. Listening for the turning of a lock, a deep sigh, the feel of her husband's arms caressing her back. And then at that point in time, she would pray. Yes, Nick knew her that well. He knew.

Surely enough when they reached the top floor there was a buzz of Sevenfold, meaning she missed him more than usual tonight. Taking a wary glance from his friend, Warrick knocked on the door. The buzz ceased, being replaced by footsteps.

"Coming..." When the door opened the petite woman from Nick's memories stood. She smiled kindly, with a but of caution under it.

"May I be of help to...oh, Nick! How wonderful, I was actually just thinking about you." Nick gave a kind of nod. Warrick stepped up with his authorative figure looming over her small frame.

"I may remember you, Brown? Something Brown..."

"Warrick, may we have a word with you Ms. Sanders?"

"Isa, please." She gestured them in, but chose not to conceal her worry.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Greg should be in by now...he's been running a bit late...lately..." Nick looked out towards the street, trying to ignore her words. Warrick cleared his throat a moment, then ran a hand through his hair.

"Ms. Sanders-"

"Isa."

"Isa, would you please...sit down?" Those words, any woman of any nature knew the meaning to them. Something terribly wrong has happened and we'd prefer not to have to scrape you off the floor. But she did as told. Warrick took the seat across from her. There was silence for a moment. Each seemed to be trying to stretch out the time before they would have to admit reality. Isa finally nodded and folded within herself. Warrick nodded and began protocol.

"This evening you husband, Greg Sanders, was collecting evidence from a local bank robbery. At twelve o' two am, he proceeded to the back fault, which had not been cleared...he was shot three times to the abdomen...I'm sorry ma'am, your husband is dead."

This is only chapter one to this story. Next chapter deals with Isa finally seeing Greg's body. Please read! If you enjoy this you will enjoy Seventeen, by me. Sunnygirl91...