The light was finally fading when Grissom came from his holding cell out into the hallway. He could hear people going on about their business up and down the hallways. It sounded faint... almost non-existent, really. But it was there, and he smiled with the comfort it brought. The background... He knew Brass disagreed though.

He headed along the hallway cautiously. The officer behind him kept prodding him. He didn't know how many holding cells there were, but he hadn't realized there were THIS many... He wondered which one Nick was in...

He stopped, suddenly. Wait a minute... He turned to his attending officer. "Could you take me to Nick Stokes?"

The officer looked around, not sure he'd heard right.

"Nick Stokes. He's also with the crime lab. He's been in all day."

"Sir, I think you have to go through the captain to get visiting time this late."

"I doubt Jim would mind, he's a friend of mine."

"That may be, but I don't–"

"–Ah, for God's sakes, let him see the man."

Grissom looked up. There was Brass, eyes very red and clearly losing his grip on his attitude.

"Jim," he greeted. "The lack of sleep's starting to get to you."

Brass clapped Grissom's shoulder twice. "Ah, yeah, you know it. It's starting to get to all of us." He hiccuped. "So... you want to see Nicky?"

"Yeah... I haven't been to see him at all since this happened."

"Most of us haven't," assured Brass. "Well, I mean, I did..."

"Yes. And so did Sara..."

"And Doc Robbins." Brass shrugged. "Well, alright. Follow me this way, Gil. I'll take you to him. Thank you, officer."

The bewildered-looking policeman smiled meekly, and turned to go back to his duties.

Grissom watched him retreat – whilst he and Brass went in the other direction – over his shoulder with amusement. "Nice guys you've got, Jim."

"Yeah, well, they get the job done," commented Brass. "Though, sometimes, I honestly miss running CSI. It was a lot easier, and the people? Don't get me wrong, Gil, the force has some great people. But sometimes it was preferable to work with the investigation team."

Grissom's smile was quick and entirely formal. They walked on in silence after it. It seemed to take more than a few minutes to get to where they were going. Grissom tried to remember where they were, but his usually-stellar observation skills were failing him – he suddenly felt extremely guilty. What was he going to say to Nick?

He didn't have a whole lot of time to think about it, in any case. It was just another minute or two later that Brass was approaching a new officer.

"Gil Grissom here to see Mr. Stokes." He then turned to Grissom. "And be careful, huh? Try to show poor Nick a little... sensitivity, will you?"

Grissom chuckled once. "I'm all about sensitivity these days, Jim. I promise, right hand to God."

Brass raised his eyebrows. "Yeah... Okay... Well, I'll leave you to it, then." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Don't tell him yet... but I think we're all gonna be seeing Nicky again real soon."

Grissom's only response was a nod of understanding. Duh, Jim.

Brass whirled around, and it finally occurred to Grissom just what was wrong with him. Must be drinking. The idea brought a less forced smile to his face. He seemed to be smiling a lot more, lately. Hopefully, it sticks.

The officer by the door tapped him on the arm. "Ready, sir?"

"Sure," answered Grissom. "Open it up."

The keys clacked in the lock, and the door swung open. Grissom stepped in, and was momentarily confused when he didn't see Nick immediately.

"Grissom?" came a shocked questioning voice from the bed.

The man in question squinted, staring a little harder into the darkness. His eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, and in a second, Nick was visible, lying on the bed and wearing a wide grin.

"Grissom!" he said again, this time standing up. "I wasn't expecting to see you, man! Come on in!"

Momentarily torn between exasperation at Nick's commonly-shared low opinion of his emotionalism and somewhat warmed by the sight of him in the state he was in, Grissom stepped farther in with a narrow answering smile.

"Nick," he greeted.

The latter unabashedly walked forward, but stopped short of a hug. He held his hand out, instead.

Which Grissom took, and then pulled Nick into a hug, himself. "How are you feeling, Nicky?"

"Oh, you know..."

Even from where he was, Grissom could hear some surprise in Nick's voice. He was beginning to feel somewhat entertained by the idea of how many shock reactions he could get out of his team...

"That bad, huh?"

"Well, not as bad as I thought," allowed Nick. He pulled back and took a seat on the bed, where he patted the spot next to him. "They take real good care of me in here."

"Mmm. Just don't turn into the type who wants to live in prison all the time..." joked Grissom.

"Oh, hell, no," protested Nick. "No, I'm a long way from that. Not worth it to me."

"Yeah, I, uh... I felt the same way."

Nick angled his head to the side. "Really? How long ago was that? Twenty years?"

Grissom shook his head. "Not quite that long. Try again."

"What, ten?"

"Nope. I'll give you a hint. You were in jail when it happened..."

The light bulb clicking on in Nick's mind was noticeable on his expression. "You were... what, arrested TODAY?"

Grissom's lips twitched as he bobbed his head forward once. "That's right."

"Whoa!" responded Nick. He stood up and walked in a single circle. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! When? How, why? What the hell's been going on since I got locked up?"

Grissom chuckled. "Nothing that serious, Nick. There was a crazy case – one that Greg and Warrick were working, but I traded Warrick out with Catherine – and it's apparently been wrapped up."

Nick's face turned down. His lips came back together, and his eyebrows flicked up one time. "Catherine..." he muttered. "How's she doing?"

Grissom leaned his head to one side. "She's doing fine. Much better, now that her case is finished up. Probably ready to go home, I'd imagine..."

Nick's laugh was so hollow and forced... "She never came to see me." He looked up carefully, like he was testing the waters with one toe. "She that mad at me?"

Grissom paused. In this light, it was easy to see why Nick's arrest had hit Catherine and Sara so hard. He was just so... innocent, in so many ways. So child-like, so simple. Not a stupid or ignorant or naïve person... but just so pure, it almost felt like. Seeing him in an orange jumpsuit, locked away in this dark cell... Grissom felt like he was looking at a loyal dog being punished for doing what his master had told him to do. The way he asked questions... The way he looked almost scared to know the answers...

"I don't think she's mad at you at all, Nick," he said after a moment. "She's certainly talked enough about you."

A shadow of his former grin crept up on his face again. "Well, THAT'S good."

"And she bitched me out for... well, some things I said," added Grissom. He suddenly felt uncomfortable. Like the moment had come. "Listen, Nick..." he went on softly. He removed his glasses, and set them down on his leg. "I... I owe you an apology."

Nick looked up, and indicated himself with his hand. "Me? Why me? You don't owe me nothing."

Grissom blinked prominently. "I wish I didn't. But I do." He returned his glasses to his face. "See, the reason I... was arrested... was because..."

Nick waited patiently while Grissom took a steadying breath.

"I did exactly the same thing that you did, Nick."

Nick's eyes darted in multiple directions before setting on Grissom again.

"I did the exact same thing you did... after I'd spent an entire day, well... criticizing you for what you did."

The realization coming to Nick had as open an effect as everything else had. His eyes fell in the slightest, and his posture sank. "Oh..." was all he said.

Grissom put a hand out. "That's why I know Catherine isn't angry. Not with you, at all. She was just... detached. Trying to do her job. And that's my fault."

Nick patted Grissom's hand on his shoulder twice. When he looked up for a short second, his eyes were glistening. "It's alright, man. I know it wasn't a good move for the PD's rep."

"Yes, but that's not the point, Nick. And I should've known that long before I found myself in the same position." He jutted his lips out. "Or, at least, I should've trusted your judgment," he amended. "Either way... I shouldn't have doubted you." He raised Nick's chin the rest of the way with two fingers. "That's what I'm sorry for, most of all."

Nick considered, but given how quickly, it seemed like he was only pretending. "I forgive ya."

Grissom shook his head slightly. "So quick to it..."

Nick stood up and went to the window. "Well, you know, I figure... what good's it do me to hold onto things? Not that there's certain things I wouldn't remember. You know... if a person wronged me a certain way. But, hell, I'm not in a position to piss off all my friends. And I don't want to, either." He turned, and held his arms out in a don't-give-a-fuck gesture. "I'm just glad to see y'all." He let his arms drop, and looked over and up at the window. "Hope I will more often..."

Grissom folded his arms over his chest. "You will, Nick." He checked his watch. "I have to go for now, but you'll see me again, soon."

"Thanks, man. It means a lot."

"Oh, I know," said Grissom. And he moved for the door. But he stopped when he reached it. "Oh, and make sure the first person you go see when you get out is Sara." And then he looked back over his shoulder. "She's been the most worried, I can personally guarantee you that."

Nick's eyes went downward. "IF I ever get out... I'll be sure to make that a priority."

The temptation to tell went through Grissom in the form of a shiver. "You will, Nicky."

He stopped. His eyes went to the ground... This was it. This was admitting defeat. It was closing one chapter, and hopefully opening another. But seeing to Sara's well-being, at the same time. Seeing to it they both got what he now felt they truly deserved.

"Take good care of her, Nick," he added.

Nick's eyes locked with his, and just stared...

But Grissom merely shrugged. "I know you will."

He then exited the cell entirely. But when he looked back, he saw Nick was grinning. And it made him grin, too.

"See you later," he said.

"See you later," Nick said back.

When the doors closed, Grissom sighed once more. And he addressed the officer, "Can you show me the way out? I'm a little unfamiliar with this part of the PD..."

The officer smiled. "I surely can. Follow me this way..."

Brass looked up at the sound of Grissom's entry into his office. He shoved the bottle of alcohol back under his desk. He'd probably had enough, anyway...

"Jim, I just had one more question," asked Grissom.

"Yeah," said Brass, as if that didn't matter. "How's Nick?"

"He's good," answered Grissom. "He's why I came, actually. I'm just wondering when he'll be released."

Brass reached into a drawer and withdrew a piece of paper. "These are the polygraph results from Ginger Gracie and Claire." He pointed to a line on it. "Since his name was not only mentioned in the statements, and we've now got it on file as confirmed events..." he flipped the large book in front of him closed, "Nicky's a hero."

Grissom tugged his shirt again. "Good," he exhaled. "Good. Very good."

Brass surveyed Grissom. "Why do you do that?"

"Stress relief."

"Pulling on your shirt helps to relieve your stress?"

"Weird, isn't it?" said Grissom, conversationally. "I noticed that when I was younger."

Brass shrugged. "Well, hey, whatever works."

"Yep." Grissom stopped scratching. "But... I'm glad things are working out Nick. He deserves it."

Brass cocked his head to the side. "Is that so?"

"Yes," said Grissom. "I mean it, Jim. He did the right thing. I'm proud of him."

"Why?" Brass didn't even know why he felt so defensive – Grissom was never THAT far out – but he still felt irresistibly compelled to ask. "Because you figured it out, Gil? Or because you were in the same position, and you did the same thing?"

Grissom considered, lips pointed out. "Why can't it be both?"

Brass felt stunned, and he was sure it showed on his face.

"Or... why can't I see it as a situation in which there was a valuable lesson for me?" He looked out into the hallway. "One that would help me in other ways, too..."

Brass nodded. "That IS a good way to look at it, Gil."

Grissom looked back at him.

"And I hope you keep hold of it, because you really could use it," finished Brass.

"I know," said Grissom. "I just wish it hadn't taken this long..."

"Me, too, pal. Me, too. You really scared me out there."

"Sorry," said Grissom. "I had to do it,"

"Exactly," said Brass. His phone buzzed. "Just like Nick..." He reached for it. "Who, speaking of, is in out-process right now. And freaking out. For the better this time. I just got the text. I'm gonna get ahold of Al. He's been waiting, too. Warrick and Catherine are already there." He flipped the phone shut. "And, I believe..." he eyed Grissom suggestively, "...that a certain someone may be here, looking for you."

Grissom went off without another pause.

Brass just smiled after him. "What happened to that sports car I recommended you get, instead?" he whispered to himself. Then he rose to his own feet...

...and set off at his own pace to see Nick's release.

The light coming through the windows was minimal now. Sara strolled in the glass hallways freely – her heart was lighter than air, and the weight in her stomach had vanished altogether. She had just found out from Catherine: Nick was going to be free. And he was going to be free soon. She would see him in no more than twenty-four hours. It didn't seem that long a time, in comparison...

Even when she rounded the corner to the main desk, and saw Lady Heather standing there, it didn't dampen her mood in the slightest.

"I'm here to see Gil Grissom," she caught Lady Heather saying.

"Just one moment," responded the receptionist politely.

"Lady Heather!" called out Sara, with a toothy grin in that direction.

Lady Heather looked up, and the smile that spread across her own face seemed honest enough. "Sara," she greeted. "You look better."

"Oh, yes," replied Sara. "I am, much better."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Yeah, me, too." Sara put both hands behind her back. A mannerism she'd picked up from Nick. It made her toothy grin widen to realize that. "I'm glad to hear you came out of everything unscathed. And, you know, alive."

"Well, not totally," said Lady Heather. She held her arms out, and pulled back the sleeves. "Alive, yes... but there's a little damage."

"A few bandages," said Sara dismissively. "Nothing you'll be stuck with forever. That's the important part, right?"

"It is. Next to surviving it, I suppose most would say. I would."

The two women had started walking. Where, they knew not. But they walked.

"Have you seen Grissom yet?" asked Sara.

"No, I was just looking for him. Have you?"

Sara shook her head. "No, I've not. I've heard he's getting out. Turns out he didn't do it."

Lady Heather sighed in relief. "I wondered..."

And then there was another moment of easy silence.

It was a few minutes, it seemed, before Lady Heather broke it again. "And, uh... how is Nick Stokes?"

"Oh, he'll be..." Sara stopped, both talking and walking; ahead, Warrick and Catherine were pacing around at the end of the hallway, "...just fine."

Lady Heather followed her gaze. Sara saw her smiling in her peripheral vision at the scene before her.

"It looks like everyone else is ready for him to be released, too," Lady Heather observed.

Sara nodded weakly. "He's a good friend."

"Perhaps to them, but..." Lady Heather looked over at her, "...I'm guessing there's a little more, in your case?"

Sara deliberated. Truth be told, she hadn't answered the question yet, for herself. Or, if she had... she hadn't been honest with herself about it. All she felt she could comfortably offer Lady Heather in return was a non-committal bob of the head.

"There's something there," she admitted slowly. "Something, but I don't know what, yet."

Lady Heather's hand touched her arm. Sara turned to her.

"In time... you'll figure it out."

Sara nodded, more calmly this time. "That's what I'm hoping."

They began to walk again, slowly, towards the hall where Nicky would surely be coming at any moment.

Finally... Sara decided to risk it. "But, tell me something first?"

"Yes?"

"What about you and... Grissom?"

This was it. Time to see Grissom on his way down the road, bags packed and a destination is mind. Hopefully, Sara was pleased to find that she could honestly say she wanted... the destination being Lady Heather.

But Heather just smiled. "I suppose that's something I'll have to figure out, too. But I think I have an idea..." She blinked, and wrapped her arms around her. "It's been a while, but... we did sleep together, back then. Back when the body was found at the bottom of my foam pool."

Sara halted. Lady Heather watched her, cautiously.

But then, Sara blinked twice.

And that was it. She felt...

...fine.

The realization was...

...nothing.

"Good," she said. "That always helps."

Lady Heather's expression turned upward. "I suppose it frequently can, yes," she agreed.

Sara giggled. "Just, um... do something about that whole 'accusing you of murder afterwards' thing."

And they both laughed with the memory. Although they hadn't been together when it happened, it had been the first thing Sara could imagine that they'd ever agreed on. The biggest show of Grissom's social ineptitude yet. Accusing the woman he'd slept with of murder the next morning...

They resumed walking.

But there was one more question, one more thing she needed to know. "Was it better with... Gil... than it was with Zoe's father."

Lady Heather looked to the floor, and she exhaled. "It definitely was. Frank was... well, he was young. He paid for me, and I did my job for my money. Even then, I ran my own business. I cost the most. And I didn't intend to end up pregnant, of course, but... when I was... When Zoe was born."

She smiled, but there was single tear there.

"Hey..." said Sara.

Conveniently, there was a box of Kleenex on just about every table. And a ton of tables in the waiting areas lining just about every hall. Sara handed her one.

"When she was born, it was easily the best day of my life. When she died, it... was the worst."

Sara looked away. "I can sympathize."

"But not empathize," said Lady Heather. "There's a difference. And be careful: if you ever find out you are with child... I warn you, your entire life will change, in one way or another. And no matter which way, it will be a huge change."

"That's right."

Sara and Lady Heather spun around.

There he was: Grissom. Standing there, looking tired, but also pleased with himself. He and Lady Heather went towards each other. When they reached each other, they embraced, and then kissed.

Sara's face became a wide grin automatically.

While Lady Heather lay her head down on his shoulder, Grissom shrugged towards Sara slightly – a gesture she returned.

"Is Nick out yet?" asked Grissom, a few moments later.

Sara shook her head. "No. We've been waiting. And watching."

"Is that so?" asked Grissom.

His head inclined forward. Lady Heather turned, and there was a smile on her face.

Sara looked confused.

"Turn around, Sara," Grissom instructed simply.

And so she did.

The officer in attendance was the first to appear. Just as it had been when she'd first seen him after he was arrested. But he, himself, didn't appear until a few moments later.

When he did, she froze up. Catherine and Warrick stopped their pacing. Behind her, Grissom and Sara just watched, grinning ear-to-ear, reflecting in the windows...

Nick grinned, and held his arms out, expectantly. Warrick rushed into them first. Sara watched them greeting each other after a long haul as if they hadn't seen each other for twenty years or more. Her lips turned up. Warrick punched Nick in the shoulder, then stepped aside for Catherine.

For a moment, Nick and Catherine just stared at each other. Sara could see Catherine was fighting back tears. When her mouth opened to say something... and Nick scooped her up off her feet... she lost the battle.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, over and over, while they swayed. "I'm so sorry..."

Nick shook his head dismissively, and buried his face in her shoulder. His arms looked like they were going to burst open, holding her up and so tightly. When he set her down, he touched the side of her face, his old, puppy-like grin back in place.

"It's all right," he answered.

Sara was vaguely aware of Greg and Brass passing her, with a somewhat subdued-looking Hodges in tow, and Doc moving as quickly as his legs would carry him towards them.

Nick greeted each one as they approached cheerfully. He hugged Greg and Doc. Shook hands with Brass. Exchanged head bobs with Hodges, much to Sara's amusement. Wendy appeared behind them all, and Nick hugged her, too.

It was then that he looked down the hall, eyebrows furrowed.

And then that they locked eyes with each other.

Around him, everyone followed his gaze in her direction.

She took two steps forward, and she could feel her eyes prickling. Nick waded out of the crowd around him, but he, too, stopped short.

It took Grissom poking Sara and Catherine poking Nick to get them to run, but they did.

The last thing Sara remembered seeing before the world seemed to disappear behind Nick was the receptionist standing up to see what was happening.

It felt like completing a jigsaw puzzle. When Nick's arms closed around her, and hers around him, there was a satisfying... almost audible, she imagined... click in Sara's body.

First they laughed... then they cried... and finally, they collapsed against the wall.

She could feel Nick's hand rubbing the back of her shoulder, and his head rested against the top of hers, where it lay against his chest. She closed her eyes...

She could feel everyone around her watching them. Even Grissom. But she wasn't bothered, in any way. Nick was out. He was free. He wasn't going to prison for the rest of his life, or worse... or in any way being taken from her. The future was uncertain.

Whatever it holds.

"Want to go for a walk?" he whispered above her.

She nodded her acceptance without a thought.