Author's Note: Argh. Probably my most difficult chapter to write ever. As a multishipper, I thought I could write just about anything. I realized (in writing CatNip) that I can't. I'll still read it, though. Oh well. It's good to learn things about yourself. Sorry if the romance in this comes off as forced, but I already explained why that was. Still, I love romance with issues. Not everything is always black and white like it is in romantic comedies and romance novels. I did enjoy writing the latter half of this chapter. Mainly because I love pie. And I want pie and I don't have pie. So it made me sad. And thus, the title. One more chapter after this, and then it's over. Er... oh. Tricks-meuler, I wanted to thank you publicly for your compliment about how I write APD sufferers. I'm very glad you found him enjoyable, and believable. I did my final project in psychology on antisocial personality disorder because I find it the most fascinating mental illness... ever... So I'm just all proud and stuff when people say that it comes off genuine.

A note on future stories: This one is coming to a close. Currently, I'm writing two others. So Close To Home, a dark Greg fic (do I really write anything else?) and something that I've been having a lot of fun with lately called Defining Death, which is a Sara/Greg (moooostly friendship...) black comedy/spoof and I promise you it will be different from any story you've read on FFN (except for the things it's spoofing, which will be evident in the story). I challenge fvhardy (if she's reading this) to go post the story she described for me, and then and only then will I post So Close To Home (as they have similar themes). So go bug her. I will too. OK, actually don't bug her. She probably isn't ready to post yet.

So which will come first, the angsty Greg piece or the humor Greg/Sara piece? You saw an excerpt of SCTH, so I'll post one for Defining Death at the end of this story. Right now, I'm more into the comedy, as I'm in bad need of a break from all the angst I've been writing. I don't know why I never seem to run out of ideas. It's a curse. Not a gift. Believe me.

Chapter Seventeen: Pie

Nick chased after Catherine into the hall as she made her way briskly away from him, obviously trying to avoid him, but he wouldn't let her get away that easily this time.

"Hey!" he called after her and she stopped and turned towards him. He hadn't expected her to do that. He had been prepared to chase her down, to speed up, so when she stopped her actually stumbled and almost tripped.

"What?" she asked him innocently.

"What was that about?" he asked her.

"You're an idiot," she replied.

"No, I got that part," Nick said slowly. "But I thought you told me…"

"I need someone to drive me to the hospital," Catherine interrupted. "Bum arm, don't you know." She shrugged her left shoulder and then spun around and continued to head towards the exit.

Nick blinked. "Uh, yeah, sure, right," he said, beginning to follow her. He fished his keys out of his pocket as he caught up with her. "But, uh… I'm not too good at reading your actions, Cath. You're going to have to use words with me. I'm a bit thickheaded when it comes to body language."

"You're a bit thickheaded period," Catherine retorted.

She was still annoyed. Nick could tell. "Um… why did you kiss me then, if you have such a low opinion of me?"

Catherine stopped walking and turned to face him. "Because while you're thickheaded, you are exceptionally adorable." And with that, she started walking again.

But Nick (being thickheaded as he was) was still very confused. "So what do you want from me exactly?" he asked.

"Right now?" Catherine said. "I want you to drive me to the hospital."

"Fine," Nick said, becoming frustrated. "Do you want to know what I want?"

"Not particularly," she replied.

He was insulted. "Well I want to know what kind of games you're playing, Catherine. Might I remind you that every time your tongue ends up in my mouth, you're the one who initiates it? And then we never talk about it! And when we do talk about it, you either tell me it was a mistake or avoid the issue completely! I am so beyond confused right now!"

Outside now, she headed straight for Nick's car and silently waited for him to unlock it. Rolling his eyes, he did and she climbed inside the passenger seat as he took the driver's side. Neither one of them spoke on the way to the hospital. Nick was too frustrated to bring it up again and Catherine was too stubborn.

Halfway there, Catherine spoke up. "After I'm done, we can go see how Sara's doing. I don't want her to wake up and have no one be there."

"Yeah," Nick mumbled, irritated. She continued to skirt the issue. So he used this to his advantage. "She's a pretty girl."

Catherine looked at him, confused. "Sara?"

"Sure," Nick said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Catherine asked.

"Nothing," Nick said. "It's just an observation."

Catherine let out a sigh as she looked straight out the windshield again. She wasn't biting. "I hope she's OK."

"She was shot in the shoulder, right?" Nick said. "Paramedics got to her? She should be."

"Unless there were complications," Catherine said. "They said they didn't think it hit an artery, but it could have. It might have damaged her muscle tissue… I don't think there was an exit wound. She'll need surgery."

All of a sudden, Nick was worried too. "Surgery?" he asked, his concern showing in his voice as he glanced at her.

She smiled at him reassuringly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I just have to think of the worst case scenario. It's how I deal with things if they…" She trailed off.

Nick was still thinking about Sara. "Surgery??"

"Nick, surgeries happen every day, she'll be fine."

"I feel terrible," Nick said, shaking his head. "I haven't really had time to worry about Sara. First with Dr. Norris, and then with you being so crazy."

Catherine didn't speak for a moment, which left Nick to his thoughts. He imagined the sight of Sara, pale and alone in a hospital bed because everyone had abandoned her to go save him. Regardless of everyone calling him one, it was the first time he really felt like an idiot. She had gotten herself shot and he tried to upstage her by almost getting himself blown up. She'd been shot and he was worried about Catherine's mixed signals. His felt like such a moron. He hoped she was OK…

"How pretty?"

He blinked, startled from his thoughts. "What?"

"Sara," Catherine clarified. "Exactly how pretty do you think she is?"

Nick started laughing as he shook his head. "I knew it," he said.

"Knew what?" Catherine asked.

"You're such a liar," Nick replied.

Catherine sighed and held her forehead in her good arm. "OK, Nick… Fine. If you want to talk about this now while your friend is lying in a hospital bed after being shot—"

"Don't do that," Nick said, shaking his head. "Don't try and make me feel guilty about Sara. Believe me, I feel bad enough. And you know we're going to have to talk about this sooner or later. I mean, kiss me once, shame on you. Kiss me twice, you better believe we're gonna talk about it."

"You and your bastardizations of things," Catherine growled. "Clichés, friendships…"

"I didn't bastardize this friendship!" Nick snapped. "That was all you."

She looked up at him with blue eyes that were strangely magnified as they glinted in the dim light of the rising dawn. She looked away again and he was instantly guilty, looking away from her and gritting his teeth.

"Catherine, I'm sorry…" he began. "I didn't mean…"

"If you want the truth, Nick," Catherine interrupted. "I don't know what I want from you…"

"So we're stuck in a sort of limbo until you figure it out?" Nick asked. "Not friends, not anything more, not anything less… not anything at all… what are we, Catherine? Because I don't like not knowing."

"You're just so warm…" she whispered, shaking her head. "Which is strange, because I usually am attracted to colder men, sharper men, slicker men who…" She sighed. "Men who aren't you. And… and I almost lost you today. And that scared the hell out of me."

"I can't make heads or tails out of you, Catherine," Nick said. "Which is ridiculous, because before all this went down, I thought I understood you so well…"

"Then maybe we aren't supposed to be doing this," Catherine said.

Nick let out a disappointed sigh as they pulled into the Desert Palms parking lot and parked the car. After he turned off the ignition he turned to look at her. She was so beautiful. He didn't realize why he'd never seen it before. Up until that first kiss, his feelings for Catherine had been strictly platonic. But the fire she had lit under him was still making him dance. He knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to taste her again. He wanted to tell her it would all be OK. He wanted her to want him back.

But he knew from the way she was avoiding the conversation that she didn't.

He got out of the car and headed through the front doors, checking in at the front desk.

"Thank you, ma'am, we'll call you when we're ready," said the secretary.

"Excuse me," Nick said. "Could you tell me where Sara Sidle's room is?"

The secretary turned to her computer and typed in the name, scanning a list. "Er… it seems Sara Sidle is still in surgery, but if you want the OR waiting room is upstairs. They'll tell you what room she's in when she comes out of surgery."

Nick's stomach began twisting itself in knots. "She's still in surgery?" he asked. "She was brought in hours ago."

The secretary smiled sympathetically. "Medicine takes time, sir. It says here she was brought in with a gunshot wound to the shoulder? My guess is they're just removing the bullet. Relax. You couldn't have believed she would have come in and out of here in half an hour."

Nick didn't know why, but he had believed that. In his mind, he had imagined Sara sleeping peacefully in a hospital bed, not lying on some operating table. The thought made him feel ill and he wondered if maybe he should ask to get checked out by a doctor.

"You can go upstairs if you want," Catherine said after a moment, snapping Nick back to the present.

"What?" he asked.

"To wait for Sara. I'll be fine here."

He smiled. "I'll hear from Sara when there's more to hear. I don't want to leave you alone down here."

She smiled, and her cheeks went a little pink as she nodded and took her seat. He sat down next to her. Neither one of them spoke for a very long time as they waited patiently for someone to call Catherine's name. It was very awkward, for both of them, but they each felt that talking would be worse, and so they kept their silence for fifteen minutes.

"Lindsey broke her wrist once when she was six," Catherine said at last, conversationally.

Nick was glad for the small talk. "Really?"

"Her pediatrician recommended this brilliant orthopedist. I could have gone to him tonight. But I wanted to come here. I wanted to see Sara."

He nodded. He wanted to see Sara too. "She'll be OK, Catherine."

"Greg shot someone today," Catherine said quietly. "Three times. It's been bothering him. I think it will continue to bother him for a really long time."

"Greg was a real hero tonight, wasn't he?" Nick said, laughing lightly.

Catherine smiled. "He's a good kid," she agreed. "He fights hard to do what's right. I think a part of him is trying to make up for what happened to him when he was a kid."

"You know about that?" Nick asked her curiously.

She shrugged. "I don't have to," she said. "I know his sister died, and he blames himself. After what happened at the library, that was pretty clear…"

They drifted off into silence again.

But Catherine couldn't stand it. "I think that… I'm only attracted to you when I'm at my weakest…"

He looked up at this. She was addressing the issue. She wasn't running from it. "And why's that?"

"Because as much as I am loath to admit it, I think that I just want someone to take care of me…" She looked up at him, a singular tear visible on her cheek. "Does that make me weak?"

He gave her the biggest smile he could muster before reaching out and cupping her face in his hand, pushing the tear away with his thumb. "It makes you human," he replied. She smiled back and he leaned forward, slowly, not breaking eye contact with her until she closed her eyes and he took this as a good sign. His other hand rose up to hold her other cheek as he kissed her softly, slowly, sweetly. To reassure her that he was still her friend, regardless of whatever else she wanted from him.

"Catherine Willows?"

She pulled away from the kiss and looked up to see a doctor holding a chart, glancing around the waiting room. She smiled at Nick, whose hands were still on either side of her face. She brought her left hand up and placed it on top of his before pulling it down and squeezing it tightly for good measure before rising to her feet and going with the doctor.

After Catherine left, Nick had gone up to the OR waiting room, where he had found Greg sprawled out across four chairs, snoring loudly. He had to laugh a little. Warrick was sitting close to him, every so often pushing Greg's feet off of his lap as he tried to read Time Magazine. Brass looked to be trying to get something out of the vending machine. He shouldn't have been surprised to see his colleagues there. After all, after seeing Nick was alright, Sara was probably everyone's first concern.

"How's Catherine?" came a voice from behind Nick, making him jump.

"She'll be OK," Nick replied, turning around to see Grissom balancing two Styrofoam cups of coffee on top of a cardboard box. He offered one to Nick, who took it.

"And the two of you?" Grissom pressed.

Nick was instantly uncomfortable. "Um…"

He smiled. "You don't have to answer that. To be honest, I don't think I really want to know." He nodded at Nick who leaned against the wall as Grissom headed across the room, towards Warrick who looked up from his magazine.

"Your pie," Grissom said, dropping it on Warrick's lap.

Warrick cocked an eyebrow at him. "This is store-bought. I thought you were supposed to bake it yourself?"

"Details," Grissom said. "You think I have time to go home and bake you a pie?"

"It's all about the details, Griss, isn't that what you're always telling us?" Warrick returned.

He smiled warmly. "Take it home," he said. "To your wife and family. We can hold down the fort here."

"No way," Warrick said, leaning back in his chair as Greg's foot kicked its way back onto his lap. He made no move to push it away this time. "I'm not getting out of this chair short of you bringing me a homemade pie or someone coming in here telling us Sara's ready for visitors."

Grissom sighed, sounding exasperated. "Warrick, it's Christmas morning. Don't you want to be with your family?"

"I am with my family," he returned.

They were bold words, as far as Nick was concerned. Sara or Grissom calling the team family, that was one thing. They didn't have much else outside of work. Even hearing Greg or himself calling the team family would have been acceptable, as neither one of them had family in Nevada. But for Warrick, who had a loving wife, in-laws, and his own grandmother waiting at home for him, those were pretty impressive words.

And Grissom didn't buy it. "I'm sure Tina would love to hear you say that."

Warrick sighed and looked down. Momentarily, and not for the first time, Nick wondered if there were problems at home that Warrick wasn't owning up to. Warrick looked up at Grissom with inscrutable eyes. "Sorry, Grissom. I can't move. This guy has me pinned down." He jabbed his thumb at Greg, who let out a particularly loud snore as he moved to get a little bit more comfortable on the chair he was in, kicking Warrick in the stomach. Warrick didn't look like he minded at all.

Grissom narrowed his eyes at Warrick suspiciously and lifted the cardboard box he had left on Warrick's lap before Greg decided to crush it with his kicking feet. "OK," he said. "But I'm taking my pie back."

He sat in a chair across from Warrick and Greg, and as if sensing the possibility of food, Brass made a beeline for him and took a seat next to him, even going so far as to open the lid of the box himself.

"Ooh, pumpkin. That's my favorite kind of pie, you know," he said, an obvious bid for a piece of it.

Grissom rolled his eyes and handed the pie to Brass. "Vending machine not working for you?"

"It ate a five dollar bill and I'm not eating anything," Brass replied, revealing a spoon he had seemingly plucked from thin air.

"Except my pie," Grissom said, sipping his coffee.

"I want pie," Nick said, sitting down on the other side of Brass, who produced a second spoon for Nick. "Where'd you get those anyway?"

"There's some hot water and instant coffee packets on the table over there," Brass said. "Plus spoons. For stirring."

"Why didn't you just get coffee from there?" Nick asked Grissom, sipping his own cup.

"Because I hate instant coffee," Grissom replied.

"If they get pie, then I get pie," Warrick said.

"You had your chance," Grissom said.

Warrick rolled his eyes and pushed Greg's feet off of his lap so hard, the rest of the young CSI went tumbling to the floor. Warrick tried to suppress his laughter and failed miserably as Greg sat up and looked around, as though afraid of some sort of emergency. The rest of them laughed a little too.

"Sorry, Greg," Warrick said, not sounding apologetic at all.

Greg sat up on the floor and yawned loudly as he stretched out his arms. "What time is it?"

" 8:30," Brass replied.

"Kids are waking up now and opening presents," Greg said sleepily. "I want presents."

"Have some pie," Nick offered, and Greg was immediately awake.

"Pie?"

They laughed as Greg went and got more spoons for the rest of them and they all had their own piece of the pie. Grissom saved a quarter of it for Catherine and Sara. The rest of their conversation was amiable jokes and small-talk which was altogether unimportant. But they were all smiling, regardless of how exhausted they were, and despite the length and events of the night before, they were all in high spirits.

After about an hour, Catherine came to join them, her broken arm in a cast and sling. Greg insisted they all signed it, and took up as much space as possible with his own name. Catherine decided she'd buy Sara her own pie as she finished what Grissom had left with a voracious appetite.

"I haven't eaten since shift started," she explained. "And this is damn good pie."

She looked up at Nick, and her smile broadened. He smiled back.

It was amazing how much pie could improve your spirits and heal your soul.