Author's Note: Hi. Back again. So you'll have noticed by now I'm not updating at my usual speeds. It's slow-going for this story, but the good news is that it's still going, and I THINK I'm near finished. My guesstimate (though nothing has been written yet) is two more chapters after this. Maybe. Hopefully. But you'll notice that this is a VERY long chapter for you today. As I told Kegel, a very Nick-centered chapter. I will be spending tomorrow at my favorite cafe, which means I will probably get a lot of writing done, hopefully for Silent Night. I promise I won't leave you hanging with this BITCH of a cliffhanger. Yeah, there, I warned you. It's a real bitch.

Chapter Fifteen: Choices

Nick folded his arms as he and Warrick watched Sofia with the suspect.

"What do you make of this guy, 'Rick?" Nick asked skeptically. "What do you think he wants?"

"Just another sociopath keen on making himself out to be more important than he really is," Warrick replied with a sigh. "I think we should just book him and get it over with."

"Do you think he's bluffing?" Nick asked. "About his last murder?"

"I think," Warrick began thoughtfully, "that he heard we were hauling him in so made up this fairytale to keep us on our toes. Serial killers lie all the time about the number of people they've murdered. Charles Manson claimed to have killed a dozen more people than he probably did."

Nick wasn't as sure as Warrick as he listened to Sofia talk to the man.

"I want to see Greg," the doctor said calmly. "And last I checked, he didn't get a sex change so you can't be the person I'm looking for."

Sofia forced a laugh. "Oh, you're funny," she said. "Greg's out on a case right now. In the meantime, you have me to entertain you. Do you want to tell me about this big surprise you're bragging about?"

Dr. Norris narrowed his eyes at Sofia. "I'm not saying anything until I speak to Greg. And I'm getting very impatient. You won't like me when I'm impatient."

"I'm sorry, Bruce Banner, but you're going to have to wait just a little bit longer. We have other cases that need attention other than you."

Nick felt like making him feel unimportant was not the way to play this, but he let Sofia do her thing. She knew more about handling sociopaths than he did, after all.

But he just leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, watching Sofia with intrigue. "I don't scare you, do I?" he asked her.

"I've dealt with plenty of people like you in the past," Sofia replied calmly. "You're not as unique as you may think, Dr. Norris."

"Why do you think I want to speak to Greg so bad?" Dr. Norris asked. "Hasn't it crossed your tiny, inferior brain yet that maybe I want to hurt him? Or maybe I already have hurt him? Do you know what he did to his sister, Detective Curtis? Did he ever tell you?"

Sofia kept a straight face. "Greg Sanders is an only child."

Dr. Norris tossed his head back and let out a barking laugh. "Oh dear, is that what he's telling people? What a clever boy. I'll bet he lies as well as I do."

"OK, this is enough," Nick said, unable to contain himself as he burst into the interrogation room. Sofia jumped to her feet.

"Nick, get out of here," she said sternly, but he ignored her and turned Dr. Norris around to face him.

"Sofia, I'd like to speak with this man alone for a moment," Nick said, eying the doctor coolly.

"Nick…" she began.

"Please," Nick added, glancing at Sofia with cold eyes. With a sigh, she nodded and left the room. But he had no doubt she was standing with Warrick behind the glass, listening.

"Why do you want to talk to him so badly?" Nick asked. "Do you just want to drudge up old memories? Do you want to torture him some more? What's your game, Norris? What are you trying to prove?"

"And you are…?" the doctor asked casually, as if Nick had just bumped into him in a hallway.

"My name is Nick Stokes," Nick replied, seething.

"You're a friend of Greg's, I can assume?" the doctor deduced.

"He's a good person," Nick said through gritted teeth. "And you get a kick out of hurting good people, don't you? Killing families on Christmas, the kids first so the parents have to watch. And now you want Greg. Whatever you want to say to him, you can say to me. He told me everything about what happened Christmas 1985. I know everything."

"You know everything," the doctor said with an amused smile. "And yet you don't know who I am."

"You're Dr. Rupert Norris, M.D.," Nick stated frankly.

"That is my identity," Dr. Norris said. "But what of my relationship with young Gregory?" Nick said nothing, and so Dr. Norris continued. "They say that serial killers begin with small crimes. Arson. Assault. Petty theft. Did I ever tell you that Lucy Sanders was the first person I ever killed?"

Nick's hands subconsciously clenched into his fists as his palms grew sweaty. "You attacked Greg and his family," he stated needlessly. That fact was quite clear to both of them by now.

"A first kill can often times be very important to a serial killer," Dr. Norris continued, as if he was describing the general behavior of any average psychopath. "Particularly if he is used to taking trophies, or leaving a signature, and neither was done at the first kill. His mind tends to dwell on it, as if he had left something… unfinished."

Nick began to grind his teeth. "You're not talking to Greg. I'm not going to let you dig up those memories. It was hard enough when he had to tell me about it."

"I was a student," Dr. Norris went on, "over at Cal State LA. I was finishing up my medical degree. My scholarship money had run out. My father was dead, and my mother was broke, so I always had to find ways to support myself. I wasn't going to give up my future because of a little detail like cash. So I went on a fundraising spree. First, I took TV sets and raided houses when people were gone. I stole a Ford Thunderbird, got a nice price off of that. But I needed more. It was Christmas Eve, and I was still a couple hundred dollars short of paying tuition for my last semester. And then, I saw this house. Adorably decorated with lights and a little Santa Claus on the roof with his reindeer. Inside, a family, singing and laughing as they had dinner. So warm. So happy. And for some reason, it got under my skin. People weren't meant to be that happy."

"That's it," Nick said, shaking his head. "I'm bringing Sofia in here to bust your ass, I'm not wasting any more time on your bullshit." Nick turned around and began to head out the door when Dr. Norris jumped to his feet.

"I wouldn't leave this room if I was you, Mr. Stokes," he said coldly.

Nick, his back to the doctor, simply rolled his eyes, but stopped nonetheless. The door to interrogation opened and Warrick was standing there, about to enter.

"No one come any closer," Dr. Norris ordered and Warrick stopped.

Nick turned around and gave Dr. Norris an irritated look. "What makes you think you can tell us what to do?" Nick asked.

Dr. Norris simply laughed, arrogantly. "You and Greg are close?"

"Screw you," Nick retorted.

"That's a yes," Dr. Norris said with a snort. "How close?"

"Close enough," Nick returned.

"So he would want to come…" Dr. Norris said slowly, "… to help you out… wouldn't he?"

For the first time, and he didn't know why, but a chill went down Nick's spine, making goose bumps rise on his skin. He turned to look at Warrick, still poised in the doorway looking as nervous as Nick felt. He looked back at Dr. Norris and said, bravely, "You're not calling the shots here, Dr. Norris."

A smile slowly deformed his smug features. His hands flew to the buttons on his shirt before pulling them open to reveal explosives strapped to his chest.

"Oh," he said casually. "I really think I am."

Nick felt as if a bucket of icy water had just been poured over his head. "Warrick…" he said slowly, not moving a muscle. "Get out of the room."

"Not a chance," Warrick shot back.

"I'd listen to him if I was you," Dr. Norris said to Warrick.

"Nick, I'm not leaving you."

"Warrick, get out of damn room," Nick said, losing his temper as he tossed Warrick a sharp look over his shoulder. He felt a bead of sweat slowly slide down the side of his face, despite the fact that he was freezing cold. "Get Sofia out and evacuate the building. You know what to do after that, I'm sure."

They locked gazes. Warrick hesitated before nodding and slowly and stepping out of the room before closing the door. Nick turned back to look at Dr. Norris. "OK," he said, as calmly as he could manage. "What do you want me to do?"

"Have you not been listening, Mr. Stokes?" Dr. Norris asked, laughing. "I want you to get Greg Sanders in here."

Nick swallowed to open up his constricting throat and licked his chapped lips. "I told you, Greg's not here right now. If you could just wait—"

"I assume you have a cell phone on you," Dr. Norris said. "Take it out and call him."

Nick hesitated. He knew Greg and Catherine were in a difficult situation of their own. If he called them at the wrong moment… "I can't."

"Nick, Nick, Nick…" Dr. Norris said, shaking his head in disapproval. "I can… call you Nick, can't I?"

"Mr. Stokes is fine," Nick replied.

Dr. Norris laughed. "Nick…" he said, as though to spite the CSI. "That's short for Nicholas? Nicholas Stokes. A diluted Texan accent. You grew up in Texas, but haven't been there for a while, have you?" He looked Nick up and down. "You're overbearing, and obviously protective. You have younger siblings, probably plenty. You look out for them. You consider yourself wiser than them."

Nick had to crack a smile. "I'm the youngest," he said. "Hate to burst your psychological profiling bubble."

"Ah…" said Dr. Norris, sounding intrigued. "Then that makes your protectiveness far more interesting. You seem to look out for Greg… by your looks, I would assume he's a few years younger than you, so you've adopted him as the little brother you never had. You feel a duty to him… You weren't treated well as a child, you felt your older siblings let you down, and you don't want to let Greg down… Brothers, I would assume, who teased you, or beat you up from time to time or…" He studied Nick's face. "Or something much darker than that. What happened to you in your childhood that turned you into such an empathizing protector, Mr. Stokes? Nicholas?"

The roof of Nick's mouth went dry as he stood there, watching the man with a bomb strapped to his chest, stalling for time. "Nothing happened to me as a kid."

"People have strange little quirks when they lie," Dr. Norris said. "You smack your lips right before you speak."

Nick pursed his lips and was about to reply when he realized he had just smacked his lips again. He shook it off. "Look, Dr. Norris, you can sit here and try and mess with my head all you want. I could talk to you all day."

"I'm tired of waiting, Nicholas," Dr. Norris said with a fatigued sigh. "All I wanted was to speak to Greg. But that doesn't look like it's possible. So maybe I should just skip to the finale." His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out the trigger.

"No!" Nick said hastily, reaching for his phone. "I'll… I'll call him." His heart lurched. He hoped he wasn't putting his friends' lives in further jeopardy. He hoped they had finished up. He hoped Sara was saved and Greg and Catherine were fine and everyone just lived happily ever after. He looked at his phone. He tried to remember Greg's number on speed dial but it didn't come to mind. Number one was Dad, two was Mom, three was Grissom…

Grissom.

Grissom would know what to do. Nick was just about to dial three when Dr. Norris spoke up. "Call Greg and only Greg," Dr. Norris said. "And if I were you, I wouldn't take any chances. I have an exceptional sense of hearing, and I know the boy's voice."

Nick took deep breaths until he nodded and went to his phonebook, finding Greg's number manually. He hit the talk button and held the phone to his ear. It rang a few times before someone answered.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Greg? Are you all done helping out Sara down there?"

"Yeah, Nick. But I was just about to—"

"Is everyone OK?" Nick interrupted hastily. His eyes were locked with Dr. Norris's.

"Well, sort of," Greg said. "Sara was—"

"Don't think I don't care, because I do," Nick cut him off abruptly. He knew Greg was going to tell him that Sara had sustained some sort of injury, which struck a cord in him, but all he wanted to know is if she was still alive. For now. "But no one's dead."

"Er… no…"

Nick took a deep breath. "Well I have a feeling that might change."

Greg sounded confused. "Nick, is everything OK?"

Nick laughed, nervously as Dr. Norris raised the trigger in his hand. "No, they're far from OK, Greg. I need you to get here now. Bring Brass."

"Nick, what's going on?" Greg was sounding very worried by now.

"Just hurry," Nick said. "Or you might not have a station to come back to."

And with that, he hung up.

"There," he said. "I called him. He's on his way. Are you satisfied?"

Dr. Norris took a seat. "Very," he said. "In the meantime, let's talk about you."

"Let's not," Nick replied, annoyed.

"Well, I can't very well let you leave this room, can I?" Dr. Norris asked. "You're my only hostage. So please, indulge me. We need to pass the time somehow. Why don't you tell me what happened to you when you were a child?"

"Why don't you tell me a little bit more about yourself," Nick returned. "Why did you become a psychiatrist?"

"Perhaps it was to better understand myself," Dr. Norris postulated. "Or perhaps I just enjoyed manipulating people and psychiatry is a wonderful tool to use. Either way, after you finish medical school, before you can become an official psychiatrist you have to, of course, psychoanalyze yourself. I suffer from— which I think is a poor choice of words as I actually quite enjoy it— antisocial personality disorder. It's quite an interesting psychological illness, Nicholas. You may know those who suffer from it by a more colloquial name, like… sociopath? No? Then perhaps psychopath is a term you might prefer. To be honest, my favorite term to describe it is… genius." He shrugged.

"You are psychotic," Nick said, shaking his head.

"I am free of emotion," Dr. Norris returned. "Can you imagine the types of things your brain could do if it wasn't impeded by your emotions? If you weren't held back by your sense of ethics? Your moral values?" He leaned across the table and smiled at Nick. "Do you know what a human being is capable of when he rises above morality?" He sighed, seeming to relax as he leaned back in his chair. "'One day men will look back and say I gave birth to the twentieth century.' Do you know who said that, Nicholas?"

Nick didn't reply.

Dr. Norris laughed. "One of the oldest, tentatively diagnosed cases of anti-social personality disorder in history belongs to a man who is known only by a self-christened pseudonym. Is that a good enough hint for you?"

"Jack the Ripper," Nick said quietly.

"Very good, Nicholas, I'm very proud of you," Dr. Norris said, condescendingly. "And look at the legacy he has left behind. He was a doctor as well, you know. Or, at least, it is assumed he was. I'd like to think that I'm the Jack the Ripper of this century."

"You don't kill prostitutes, you kill families," Nick hissed.

"Hypocritical families," Dr. Norris returned. "Each and every one of my targets were church-going, God fearing folks with laundry so dirty it was toxic waste. A homophobic father who secretly molested his son. A mother who wouldn't let her daughter get a bellybutton ring because it was too promiscuous and yet she was having two separate affairs. A teenage boy who convinced himself that the people he beat up were sinners who deserved it. A preteen girl who clutched at her silver cross necklace as she dabbled in the occult."

"And Greg's family?" Nick asked. "What was so hypocritical about them?"

Dr. Norris sighed. "I told you, Lucy Sanders was my first kill. I had no reason other than to take what I needed."

Nick was tired. It was Christmas Day, and he wanted to go home. His shift ended an hour ago and he was stuck here with a self-described psychopath threatening to blow him into little bitty tiny pieces, and on top of that he was demanding to speak with Greg, doubtlessly to mess with the young CSI's head. All in all, this wasn't exactly the best Christmas ever.

"What are you planning on saying to him?" Nick asked, more as a means of passing the time than anything else. He doubted Dr. Norris would give him a straight answer.

But to his surprise, Dr. Norris grinned. "I wanted to thank him," he said. "Among other things."

"Thank him for what?" Nick asked, his heart beating faster.

"For helping me realize my true potential," Dr. Norris replied. "When I saw him throw his own sister to the ground in order to save his own life… It proved what I have been saying about humanity all along. I wrote my thesis on it, actually. I used him as a… 'hypothetical' example. About human kind's baser instincts to survive at all costs. You tell me that you're the youngest, Nicholas. If I offered to kill your brother, or kill you, what would you say?"

"I'd say kill me," Nick said boldly.

Dr. Norris let out a long, smug laugh as he shook his head, amused. "Of course you say that now, Nicholas. When you're not being tested. There's no way you could prove it, is there? No way you can show me that my thesis was incorrect? If Greg had a different history, and his sister was still alive today, he would probably try to tell me the same thing."

"You want me to prove it?" Nick asked. "Then blow me up right now, so help me God. If it'll keep you from doing any more damage than you've already done, if it'll keep you from Greg, than do it. Kill me now."

Dr. Norris narrowed his eyes at Nick, who remained expressionless. They both knew Nick was bluffing. But it was Dr. Norris's choice on whether or not he wanted to call that bluff. If Nick could spare Greg from anything this man had to say, he would do it. If he thought it would make a difference, he would let this guy blow him up right now to keep him from hurting any more people. But the truth was, Nick knew that was a stupid thing to die for.

Unless…

Unless there was an ulterior motive. Unless Dr. Norris wanted to do more than just talk to Greg…

And then, the real reason occurred to him. The real reason Dr. Norris wanted to speak to Greg. The real reason Dr. Norris was telling him what he wanted to say to the young CSI. Why Dr. Norris was asking Nick if he would be willing to die for his brother.

"A first kill can often times be very important to a serial killer… His mind tends to dwell on it, as if he had left something… unfinished."

The blood drained from his head and he felt dizzy, but he didn't waver. His hands, which were drenched in sweat by now, clenched and unclenched into fists. His dry tongue shot out in a futile attempt to moisten his chapped lips. He took deep breaths.

"You don't want to pull that trigger," Nick said. "At least, not while I'm the only one here."

"You are a very smart boy, Nicholas," Dr. Norris said.

"I won't let you," Nick said, shaking his head. "I won't let him come in here. You will never see him again, do you understand me?!"

"What are you going to do, Nicholas?" Dr. Norris asked. "Are you going to call him? Tell him it's a trap? Well good, I encourage you to, go on." He gestured at Nick's phone attached to his belt. Nick slowly reached for it. "Oh, but before you do… You might want to tell him that if he doesn't come, well then that's his choice, but he may find himself short one Texan friend."

Nick stopped, his hand hovering over his phone. "I'm not going to let you get inside my head," he said. "I'm not going to make him make that decision again."

"So what, are you going to make it for him?" Dr. Norris asked with a smile. "How? Are you going to provoke me? Attack me? Seize the trigger from my hand? Play the part of the self-sacrificing hero?"

Nick's hand, still hovering over his phone, suddenly switched to his gun, his fingers closing around its hilt. He seemed to remember that he even possessed a gun for the first time in the conversation. But Dr. Norris shook his head.

"You can shoot me, Nicholas," he said. "But I guarantee that before you do, I will have pulled this trigger. And while my initial target may not have been reached, I'll be satisfied with killing you. And hey, you can go to the afterlife knowing that you proved my theory wrong. Good for you."

Nick stood there, aiming at the man with his gun for a long time, the sweat pouring down his face. He aimed for his head. It was a kill shot, but it was kill or be killed at this point in time. If he hit the man's head, he would have no time to pull the trigger.

Noting this, Dr. Norris slowly moved his trigger hand right in front of his face. Nick knew if he hit that, it would be the death of him, not to mention half the station. He prayed to God that Warrick and Sofia had evacuated the building and called the S.W.A.T. team. He hoped they thought of a solution before he poorly improvised his own.

"This is your chance," Dr. Norris said in a whisper. "This is your chance to prove what you've been bragging about. That you're willing to die for someone else who's not even your real brother. If it makes a difference, Nicholas… if you can do that, it will really impress me."

But the truth was, Nick didn't know if he really could do it. He did know that if he didn't do it, he would never be able to live with himself if it cost Greg his life. But Nick was quite fond of living. He had put up with a lot just to make sure that he was still breathing. He concentrated on his breathing then. Deep, low breaths, in and out, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. Was he about to die? Were these his last breaths? He had thought these things before, and he had been wrong then. But was he wrong now? Every second that he hesitated was another second that Greg could burst through that door. And then, the odds were that they would both be dead. Nick had never considered himself a hero. He had always liked to think he would do anything for his family and his friends. But Dr. Norris was right. Now was his chance to do it.

He thought of Grissom again. Grissom would know what to do. Grissom would find a way to negotiate with this man. Grissom would find a solution in which everyone would come out alive. Nick had always had a sort of naïve blind faith in Grissom, like a small child might have in his father. Grissom was Superman, and he was never lost, and he always did the right thing. Nick's life had been saved by Grissom on more than one occasion. Where was his wise supervisor to burst in and save him now?

Probably with Sara, he thought, and with a painful lurch of his heart, he thought of the woman Greg and Catherine had so gallantly gone to save, who was injured in some unknown way. Possibly fatal, Nick wasn't sure, all he knew was she was alive for now. At the time that was all he wanted to know. But now, he needed to be sure that she was going to be OK. He needed to know that she would smile again, and laugh again, and just be Sara again. Because he couldn't imagine a world without Sara. It was too much. She was his friend. His sister He needed to know that she would be alright. He needed to know that Catherine and Greg's efforts weren't in vain. He needed to know if they were going to lose one CSI that night… or two. Or more. Greg.

If Greg walked in there, if Greg was put in the same position as Nick, what would he chose? If he chose to die himself, Nick would never be able to live with himself. But after the emotional torture he went through with his sister, Nick firmly believed that if Greg left Nick there to die, it would drive the younger man insane. He couldn't say what Greg would choose, and hoped it wouldn't come to that. He would make sure it didn't come to that. Yes. Nick wouldn't let Greg make that choice. Nick was going to end it now.

He wondered what Warrick would do. The two had grown very close in their long time working together. If Greg was a younger brother to him, then Warrick was his twin. They did everything together. Warrick was more inside of Nick's head than anyone else. He always knew he could count on him. He remembered Warrick's face when they had found him after the kidnapping. He had been the one to tell Nick to lower the gun. He had stayed by him, even when Grissom told him to move. He, along with Catherine, had ridden with him to the hospital…

Catherine. Catherine… He closed his eyes and the tears leaked out. He had no thoughts for Catherine, only a surge of regret that began in his stomach and strangled his heart. Catherine. He only hoped that she had been honest with him in the hallway, that she had only been vulnerable in that layout room. He hoped she had meant it when she told him they were just friends. Because he couldn't bear to think of what it would do to her if she had lied.

And so with her face at the forefront of his thoughts, Nick made his decision as he took aim and pulled the trigger.