Well, I can't promise the same amount of excitement (or romance, which is also quite exciting!) as there was in the last two chapters. Wow those were fun to write. Not so fun for our favorite geek pals though, so I won't put them through anymore torture.

Oh, and I disclaimed CSI, but I never did a disclaimer for the title of this story! Disclaimer for the use of U2's song Walk On, and much love to Bono…

And I hope you appreciate this... I pulled some serious ass trying to get this done! No, that's a lie, I had nothing better to do. /

--

The radio was playing softly in the background as they sat around the table.

"Well, to be honest, I really had no idea what I was doing," Nick was confessing. The Texan had clearly been shook up, and Sara could see that his hands were still trembling a little as they lay on the smooth wooden surface. "I was honestly lost, so I just went back to the store parking lot, to you know, get back in the crime scene or whatever Griss calls it."

Grissom smiled from the other side of the table, next to Sara. "Try to see it happening," he agreed. "Good choice."

"Yeah well," Nick continued, "you know, it didn't really do anything, and I was about to leave when you know, well, he – the owner – came out and asked what I was doing." He swallowed. "He seemed nice, you know. Asked me to go in and stuff. So I did, I mean, I figured what the hell right? I followed him in, and he lead me around to the back, where he kinda had a little room to himself. A couple books, a couple chairs, a little counter where he had some food. He seemed like a pretty normal guy. I didn't think about it too much."

"Right, until he came back," Greg picked up. He nodded at Nick's shirt. "It's black right? Well, we were just going over some stuff again, 'cause honestly, we were all at a loss, when yours truly noticed some red fuzz on Nick's shirt. Kinda stood out, you know?"

"Not that we thought Nick was the killer," Catherine added quickly, "but we took a sample anyway just on a hunch—"

"My hunch," Greg made clear.

"Whatever. Anyway, it came back as the same horsehair material that was on the passenger seat."

"Right," Nick continued, "so I mean, that put the store owner in a pretty bad place, since after I thought about it, I realized that I had been sitting on a red chair while I had been talking to him. I wanted to go get a sample of the chair, but I needed a warrant, and Brass wouldn't give it to me considering…"

"The fact that he's Brass?" Warrick scoffed. Even after all these years, Warrick never gave up the chance poke some fun at the police chief. "Ain't too surprised."

"Yeah, well, anyway. He had seemed like such a nice guy, so I figured he would give me a sample of his chair anyway, so I was gonna head out again—"

"When he ran into me," Warrick explained. "I had just come back from the antiques shop." He shook his head. "You know, it just so happens that the shop I visit last is the one that actually knows jackcrap about horse hair… anyway, I run into Nick going down the hall, and he seems to be in a rush, so I just turned around and followed him out. We go back to that store, 'cept that old man's not there anymore. Anyway, while we're waiting around, I tell him what I learned: horse hair obviously isn't that common anywhere now, but back in them olden days, it was really popular 'round the East Coast. Must be some of them British things, you know? Anyway, I relay this point to Nicky, and all of a sudden he just gets this look on his face, and barrels outta there at ninety-five miles per hour."

At point in the story, Sara could see Nick give her a quick glance. She gave him a small crooked smile, and he mildly shrugged before turning back to the rest of the table.

"So anyway, Nick's zoomed off, and I had no idea where he had gone to, so I just take a look around, and guess what I find." Warrick held up an orange.

"Err, an orange?" Sara asked.

"An orange…!" Grissom said, revelation dawning on his face. "Orange juice!" Seeing Sara's confusion, he quickly added, "Doc reported traces of orange juice on the sides of Mackenzie's wounds, most likely a transfer from the weapon." He paused. "Well, he didn't say that. That was me. He had… more creative ideas."

"Yeah, well, you were right." Warrick turned the orange so that the top was facing them, and Sara could see a small X etched into the top. "My grandmother does this too. Marks an X with a knife so she can dig in better to peel it. Anyway, that coupled with the horse hair chair that Nicky mentioned, which I bagged anyway"—he held up a small plastic bag—"made me damn suspicious, so I phoned Catherine and Greg. Tried Nick too, but guess you don't talk on the phone when you drive, do you?" he asked.

"Only when I'm already breaking the law by going faster than the speed limit," Nick muttered.

There was a small interlude as everyone chuckled. Sara couldn't help but marvel at what her team had pulled off in such a short amount of time, especially considering the shape the case was in when she left. Of course, certain methods weren't exactly kosher, but honestly, she, out of anyone, had nothing to complain about.

"Yeah, but see the thing is," Warrick said after a moment, "what I can't figure out is how Nick just knew to go to your place." He glanced at Nick. "Man, he won't tell me anything."

"Well, I mean, I knew all along that Nick had superhero powers," Greg said sarcastically.

Sara knew this moment was going to come up sooner or later. From Greg's comment, she knew that Nick hadn't told anyone. She wasn't sure if she was grateful or not. Maybe it would have been easier if he had just talked. But she knew that was the cowardly way out. Underneath the table, she felt Grissom take her hand. They're my team, she thought. I owe it to them. At least she had Grissom with her, and Nick as well.

"Well," she began. Strangely enough, no tears came, as they usually did when she even tried to think about what had happened. There must be a point where there just aren't any tears left. "Well, uh, sixteen years ago, in Boston, I was an undergrad at Harvard and one night I was coming back from class. Physics 397, actually. Experimental Condensed Matter. A friend and I had stayed back to ask the professor some questions, and she had her car, so we were driving back to my dorm. She had to stop at the convenience store for shampoo, so I just waited in the car. And then all of a sudden, this… there was just this shadow, and then someone was in the car. And then he was just… on top of me. I don't remember if I fought back or what, but it didn't matter, because he raped me anyway. He was wearing a condom. Gloves. Everything. And then, when he finished, he just pulled out a knife and took me by the wrists. I remember that too. He slashed them for me. It didn't hurt, but the blood was just coming out. It was everywhere. And he just left. I don't know why, I just kept pounding on the window, and this man came over. He had an old Red Sox hat on, and a Radiohead T-shirt. Brown hair, you know, sort of long. Green eyes. He opened the door and called 911 and… well, they thought they ended up catching the guy a couple months later."

There was a hushed silence. From under the table, Grissom squeezed her hand, and she squeezed it back. It was weird just having that story flow from her mouth. She hadn't realized she remembered it in all that detail. But in a peculiar way, she felt better than she had felt since they had found Mackenzie's dead body in that car.

"And that is why," Nick said quietly after a moment, "I knew to go to Sara's."

"East coast, huh," Warrick marveled. He raised his eyebrows. "Wow. That's… that's… lucky. Man, I don't have another word." He reached over, giving Sara a small hug. "But damn Sara, you're brave."

Catherine leaned over the table. "Sara," she said, and Sara could see tears in her eyes, "I know that you've probably heard it a million times, and honestly, I hate it 'cause it's become so clichéd. But I am so, so sorry. I had no idea, but I don't blame you for not saying anything, because, honestly, I don't think I would have had the courage to do what you just did. I would have been so damned scared."

There was a mumble of agreement around the table.

"It's fine," Sara replied. She had heard that everyone was so, so sorry more than a million times, and she had responded in the exact same way each time. Funny thing was, she actually meant it this time. "I mean, we just move on right?" She smiled, slightly embarrassed. "And I mean, your past is nothing to joke about either. I'm sorry about what I said. As usual. And Greggo," she added, turning, "I'm sorry about what I said to you too."

Catherine smiled. "What did you say?" she asked innocently, giving Sara a small wink.

Greg, however, only shook his head disappointedly. "Experimental Condensed Matter, Sara? Physics 397? I don't think I can talk to you anymore." He grinned. "Naw, it's all cool. I know I'm annoying as hell sometimes."

There was another mumble of agreement around the table.

"But seriously," Greg continued, sobering up. "I don't really know how to say this besides just… I look up to you even more now."

"Oof, well," Catherine said, leaning back. "Grissom, I think you got competition."

Sara raised her eyebrows, trying to hide a smile as she turned to look at Grissom. She wasn't surprised that Catherine had guessed what had been going on between them through all these years, but she wasn't sure how Grissom was going to take such a public declaration.

Grissom frowned. "Back off, pal," he responded coolly. "You've lost already."

"Ooh, burn." Warrick shook his head. "Burn." He paused as what Grissom said sunk in. " 'You've lost already?' Wait, what—"

"—Is going on?" Catherine finished. She gave the two of them the most incredulous look.

Grissom only smiled.

"Gil, you asked her out without telling me?! I'm going to kill you!"

"Well," Grissom responded hastily, "it was a uh… sort of, spur of the moment thing." Sara nodded quickly, serving as much needed backup.

"Oh, well," Catherine conceded, still smoldering, "well. At least you'll stop complaining to me."

"What! I never complained—" Grissom started, but Catherine made a gesture that clearly indicated she was no longer listening and no longer cared. Grissom turned instead to Sara, who was trying her best to look angry. "I never complained."

"It's okay," Nick said loudly, much to Sara's chagrin, "she complained too." Seeing Sara's reaction, he stuck his tongue out in the rather convincing manner of an angry four-year old.

"Okay, children, party's over, and I'm hungry. What do we say, lunch on Warrick?" Catherine proposed, standing up.

"I say lunch on Greg," Warrick suggested over Greg's indignant noises.

Catherine considered this for a few moments. "Works for me. I'll meet you out in the parking lot." Pushing her chair in, she walked out, with a quarreling Warrick and Greg in tow.

"Nick," Grissom began as Nick stood up, "have you closed the case?"

Nick frowned. "Uh, no. I haven't."

Grissom raised his eyebrows. "Well, you better get on it. You're the lead CSI on this one."

Sara could tell Nick was taken aback by this. He glanced at her, and she gave him a small thumbs-up. "But—"

"I said I put you in charge," Grissom said. "That's in charge of everything."

Nick considered this for a moment. "Right," he finally said, nodding, and Sara could tell he was coming to terms with the idea. "Right, I'm on it."

"And Nicky?"

Nick turned around. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. For the both of us. I mean, I know that giving you a whole pile of paperwork is a lousy way of showing it, but… we wouldn't be here without you."

"Literatively and figuratively," Sara added.

Nick laughed. "Yeah. You're welcome." He paused. "Take good care of her, okay man? I mean, with all this paperwork, I can't do this all the time anymore." He grinned, then left the room.

The radio was still playing softly in the background as Grissom turned to face her. "I'm proud of you," he told her.

"I know," she responded. "It's what made it easier."

"Feel better?" he asked. "It's good to see you smile again."

"Yeah, I feel much better than I have for a while. Much lighter." She paused, listening to the radio. And I know it aches, and your heart it breaks, and you can only take so much… walk on…

"Fitting, isn't it?" Grissom asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "You didn't pay the radio company to play this, did you?"

"No, no, why would I do that?"

"No, you're right," she agreed. "It's too cheesy for you. I didn't even know you liked U2."

He gave her that look. "Closet U2 fan."

She leaned over, kissing him on the lips. "Mm, should have guessed."

"You're learning." He extended his hand. "Shall we?"

"We shall," she agreed, taking his hand and standing up.

Leave it behind… you've got to leave it behind…

"Think we should turn that off?" she asked. With Greg's appetite, there was no knowing how long they would be gone for.

"Nah. Ecklie has to deal with the electricity bill, not me."

He put his arm around her as they closed the door and walked on out.