Author's Note: No comment... except for apologies again for being so delayed.

Chapter Seventeen: Through Her Eyes

At Henry's Party…

Catherine glanced over at Henry and Greg and smiled, pleased that the lab tech was so happy with the party and impressed that Greg had thought of it. She had just picked up a cupcake when she saw Nick approaching her out of the corner of her eye and his sour expression made her smile falter.

"What's up?" she asked, taking a large bite of her cupcake. He was about to reply when she said, "Oh my God, who made these? They're amazing!"

"I don't know," Nick said, his tone implying that he also didn't care.

"Wendy," said Archie as he helped himself to one of them and taking a bite. "Biochemists make great cooks." He winked, then waved at someone across the room. "Yo, Riley!" And with that, he was gone again.

Catherine watched him go, chuckling lightly.

"I don't want to do this anymore," she heard Nick say, and it successfully grabbed her attention.

"Is this your two weeks' notice?" she asked, slightly disturbed at this sudden confession.

He looked confused. "What? No, I'm not quitting."

She sighed with relief. "Oh, good, because if you were leaving, then I'd have to hire someone else, and there's paper work, and then… Well, I can't lose you, Nicky. You're…" She glanced around, shiftily. "Don't tell the others, but you're my best man." She winked. Then, she remembered what he'd said. "Wait, if you're not quitting, what don't you want to do anymore?"

Nick ran a shaking hand through his hair. "This dance, with Greg. One step forward, two steps back. I keep trying to get him to open up and let me in, but it's like the closer I get the further apart we drift… And I just don't want to do that anymore…"

Any mirth that had been left in her expression vanished. "Right…" she began slowly, putting down her half-eaten cupcake. "So then what are you going to do?"

Nick shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know…" he confessed. "I really don't. I just can't do this anymore. I can't keep trying, can't keep facing the wall that he's built between us."

"So you're saying you're just going to… stop trying?" Catherine asked slowly, folding her arms.

"Obviously, you don't think that's a good idea," Nick said quickly, "but Catherine, what else can I do? Maybe if I just step back and just let things take its course, he'll come around… or he won't. Either way, it's beyond my control, right? So what's the point of trying?"

She nodded, slowly, chewing on her lip. "Well…" She glanced at Greg and Henry. "You've tried talking to him. You've given him space. You've done everything he's asked."

"Exactly," said Nick, following her gaze. "But it's not enough. Not for him. And this space thing, I mean, it's been three weeks, and maybe I just miss him too much, but he won't even look at me anymore. The only time he talks to me is about a case. He won't even give me status reports. He's not coping, Catherine, at least not very well."

"Just give him a few more weeks, Nick," Catherine said, smiling at him kindly. "Let him come to you."

Nick folded his arms too and stared at the floor. "Yeah, I know, but I just have this really nasty gut feeling that…" He trailed off.

She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to try and catch his eye. "That what?"

He looked up, and his eyes were lost. "That he never will." He shrugged and tried to smile. "So I guess that means I give up."

February…

"I mean…" Riley began slowly. "That's OK with you, right?"

Catherine tapped her pen above the leave request form, a small smile on her face to mask her anxiety. "Just so long as you're coming back to us," she said.

Riley nodded vigorously. "Oh, yeah, of course!" she cried. "She only needs me for a week, if that. I might be able to hold back on going a few days if you need me. Weddings aren't exactly my thing."

Catherine chuckled. "Great. Riley… I know you haven't been here long, but too many changes on this team and we lose our balance. I'd hate to have to replace you."

"Well, I'm glad to be here," Riley said. "It's hard to come onto a team that's been so close for so many years, especially after…" She stopped herself, and Catherine saw the guilt in her eyes. Riley thought that she'd crossed some line by alluding to Warrick's death.

Catherine forced a smile to assuage her fears. "Right," she said, changing the subject and not allowing herself to dwell on the name that barely flickered through her mind. "Of course. It's hard to find the right fit, but we have with you and Ray. I think you two are doing very well here."

"Thank you very much," Riley said sincerely. "But you don't have to act like I'm never coming back again. It's just a week for a wedding, not even that if I can convince her that she doesn't need her maid of honor to argue with the caterer for her."

Catherine opened her mouth, her mind searching for an attempt to bond, perhaps share the story of how her wedding to Eddie had gone all wrong, when the phone rang. She answered it, holding up her finger at Riley to signify that she didn't want the young woman to leave just yet.

"Catherine Willows," she said, in her best supervisor voice.

"M-Mom?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't help the look of fear that skipped across her face like a stone in a lake. "Lindsey? What's the matter?"

"Nothing… If you define 'nothing' lightly…"

She heard the slight crack in Lindsey's voice, the subtle fluctuations in timbre as she pretended to be calm. Catherine had been nervous all day, and until now, she couldn't place her finger on the reason. But suddenly, she finally understood. All was not well with her daughter. "Lindsey, what happened? Are you OK?"

Riley seemed to notice that she was eavesdropping on a personal matter and rose to leave, but Catherine signaled her to wait. She slowly slid back into her chair, visibly uncomfortable.

"Yeah… yeah," Lindsey said, repeating things the way she always did when she lied. "I mean, I'm a bit shook up, but the important thing is I'm OK. I'm OK, Mom. That's what you have to remember."

Her brow furrowed as suspicion took its hold. Now that her daughter had assured her that she was not on the brink of death, Catherine suspected that she was afraid of her mother's fury more than anything else. And that means she'd done something she shouldn't have. "Lindsey, have you been arrested?!" Giving her line of work, it was always the first thought she had.

"What?! No! I mean, it was totally the other guy's fault."

"The other guy?" Catherine blinked.

"Yeah, Mom, but like I said, the important thing is, I'm OK."

"You're OK," Catherine said. "Is the other guy OK?"

"What? Yeah, he's cool. No, Mom, I'm fine, the guy's fine, it's just… the car. The car is not fine, Mom."

Catherine closed her eyes as the last of the panic washed away and annoyance began to settle in. "Linds, what happened? Where are you?"

"There was a tiny accident. Now, the airbags deployed, and everyone was wearing our seatbelts—"

"Everyone?" Catherine repeated. "Lindsey, you know you're not supposed to drive with anyone under eighteen in the car!"

"Well, Trevor's nineteen—" she began, and then stopped, knowing she had betrayed herself.

Catherine rose to her feet, her jaw nearly hitting her desk. "What the hell are you doing driving around at night with a nineteen-year-old boy named Trevor whom I've never met?!"

Riley rose to her feet again and gestured at the door. "I'm just going to…"

Still, Catherine refused to let her leave, and with another gesture, bound her to the chair again.

"Trevor Lockley, you met him that one time we were at Megan's basketball game… He goes to UNLV."

"Lindsey…" Catherine closed her eyes and sighed. "We'll talk about Trevor when I get home. How bad is the damage to the car?"

"Well, not totally bad…"

"How bad?"

"I don't know. I'm not good with money and stuff. The front is pretty smashed, but the back looks really awesome! Did you pay for that new paint job last week? It looks nice."

"Lindsey, where are you?" Catherine asked, grabbing her purse. "I'm coming to get you."

"Desert Palms," Lindsey replied.

Catherine stopped. "What? But I thought you said you were OK!"

"I did, but I broke my wrist. That reminds me, the doctors want our insurance. I don't know it."

Stupid teenagers, Catherine muttered in her head.

"Oh, and I think someone said something about a concussive."

"Concussion," Catherine corrected.

"Yeah, whatever."

Catherine rubbed her tired eyes. "OK, Lindsey, just… wait for me."

"Where else am I gonna go? They won't let me leave until I give them my insurance information. Oh, and the guy that hit me, he wants insurance stuff too."

"But I thought he hit you," Catherine said.

"He did," Lindsey replied. "He hit us when we were changing lanes. See, we were on this hill—"

"Lindsey, just stop talking," Catherine groaned. "I can't listen to this right now. I'll meet you at the hospital. Bye."

She hung up and heaved a heavy sigh, then looked up at Riley, who looked a little mortified that she'd heard that whole thing. Suddenly, Catherine felt guilty for making her stay.

"That was my daughter," she explained.

"Yeah, I got that," Riley replied. "Is there something you wanted to tell me?"

Catherine wracked her brain, but it was gone. "I'm sorry, Riley."

The young CSI managed a smile. "Hey, it's OK. You should go make sure your daughter's all right."

"She's fine," Catherine grumbled. "Just broke her wrist joyriding in my car with a boy I never met whose three years older than her." And then, she had to smile. "Actually, when I was her age… I did worse."

Riley smirked. "Nah," she said. "You don't seem the type."

Catherine snorted and rolled her eyes. "If only you knew," she said.

Present.

Catherine turned into her office as Greg snapped his phone shut and expressed a loud, frustrated growl.

"Who did you just wish death upon?" she asked, making him jump.

He spun around and looked guilty for a moment before his gaze hardened. "You have to take me with you to your scene at Lake Mead."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You heard about that, did you?"

"Yeah, I did," said Greg, clearly irritated as he folded his arms. "Riley told me. Why did you have to ask Nick to go? I'm not even on a case right now!"

Catherine was flabbergasted and folded her arms, indignantly. She couldn't believe that Greg Sanders was questioning her. "You're not on a case, huh? Did you forget about that smothered little girl? She needs someone just as much as my family at Lake Mead, Greg."

Greg closed his eyes and sighed. "I know… I know. I'm sorry, I'm just… stressed out." He fell into a chair by her desk and raked his hand through his hair.

Catherine shook her head. "Why are you boys all out of sorts?" she asked, taking a seat in a chair next to Greg.

Greg looked up at her. "What are you talking about?"

She sighed. "Nothing," she said, feigning ignorance. "Why are you mad that I sent Nick to Lake Mead?"

"It's stupid…" Greg muttered, then frowned. "Really stupid, actually. Oh God, I shouldn't have said that to him." He reached for his phone and looked at it. "I should apologize."

"Mm, yeah," Catherine agreed. "That was Nick, then? I wasn't sure when you said you'd talked to Riley…"

"Yes, it was Nick," Greg said, putting the phone to his ear and letting it ring. "Can I still go with you to Lake Mead?"

Catherine hesitated before nodding. "If it's that important to you, Greg, sure you can. You gonna tell me why?"

He shook his head stubbornly and Catherine gave him the same look she gave Lindsey when she knew her daughter was lying. And then, Greg sighed. "It was… a dream…"

Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "A dream?"

Greg hung up the phone and leaned forward in his chair. "It wasn't just any dream, Cath, it was…" He chewed on his lip and watched her for a moment, as if trying to guess how she'd react to his next words. It made her all the more curious and she, too, leaned forward conspiratorially, as if they were sharing some dark secret.

"It's just, the last time I had a dream like this…" Greg began, "Warrick was shot."

Catherine felt a chill run down her spine as all the color drained from her face. She leaned back in her chair, her jaw firmly set. "That's not funny, Greg."

"I know!" Greg exclaimed. "I'm not joking, Catherine! I had… this crazy vivid dream that I was in a car with Warrick and we were laughing, like someone had just told the funniest joke of all time, but I never knew what it was. And then, he put the key in the ignition, but instead of hearing the car start, I heard a gunshot, and Warrick turned to look at me with this funny expression on his face and his neck—"

"Stop it," Catherine interjected, her throat closing up. She looked sharply away and fed on her anger to repress the ache that was rising in her stomach.

Greg seemed to notice that she was upset, because he immediately backed off. "I'm sorry."

She snapped her head to look at him again. "What are you saying, exactly? That you had this dream before he died? And now you've had some sort of dream about Nick?"

"Yeah," Greg said. "Yeah, that's what I'm saying."

Catherine put on a stony expression. "You realize how ridiculous you sound, right?"

"Totally," said Greg. "Still, I'd feel a lot better if—"

Catherine jumped to her feet. "OK, Greg. Let's go."

The drive to Lake Mead Marina was a long one, and Catherine had no interest in asking Greg any further details about his dream. Hearing about Warrick had been difficult enough. She knew that Greg had often jested about other-worldly powers and the merits of crystal balls and palmistry, but she had always thought that the jokes were just that: jokes. And now, he was actually expecting her to take him seriously? And what was even stranger… She believed him.

As they drove, Greg continued to call Nick repeatedly, every fifteen minutes or so, desperate to apologize.

"What if I can't tell him I didn't mean it before he—"

"Nick is going to be fine, Greg," Catherine insisted, as much for Greg's comfort as her own.

Greg was quiet for a moment. He shifted in his seat. And then, after a while, he asked, "How are you doing anyway?"

Catherine remained focus on the road. "I'm fine."

"Are you?" Greg pressed. "I mean, honestly. It occurred to me that I haven't really asked you how you've been doing lately…"

She smiled at his sincerity. She would have turned to look at him, maybe even hug him if she wasn't driving. "Yes, Greg, I'm very fine. Lindsey keeps pushing my buttons, but teenagers are supposed to do that, aren't they?"

"Lindsey," Greg said fondly. "How is that crazy girl?"

"Crazier than ever!" Catherine replied, half frustrated, half proud. "She still complains about her wrist, even though the brace came off weeks ago. I just tell her that she brought it upon herself."

"Her wrist?" Greg sounded concerned.

Catherine glanced at him briefly. "Yeah, um, she was in an accident back in February."

"No way!" Greg exclaimed. "How come you never said anything?"

"It wasn't important," Catherine exclaimed. "She came out of it relatively unscathed. In fact, I'd almost go so far as to say it was a good thing. She follows the rules now. Never out driving after dark, and if her boyfriend Trevor is with her, then he's the one doing the driving. She's a newly licensed driver, and there are all these pointless rules she has to follow because of it… Don't tell her I called them pointless, though, because then she'll never follow them and I'll have to pay some sort of ticket. Oh god, why did I ever agree to getting her a license in the first place?"

And then, she head the strangest sound. It was something she hadn't heard in a long time. Greg was laughing. And it wasn't the same, forced chuckle he gave whenever someone told a bad joke. It was genuine, from-the-gut laughter.

"You should do that more often," Catherine said.
"Do what?" Greg asked.

She smiled at him. "Laugh."

He snorted. "I laugh plenty."

"Not like that," Catherine said.

Greg grew quiet again and watched the road. "I don't know. Maybe Nick's right, maybe I am being pathetic.

"If Nick called you pathetic, he was just being defensive," Catherine said astutely.

Greg leaned his head against the window. "Whatever the reason he said it, he's right. I've been a little fuzzy lately. Maybe it's time for me to get back on my feet. Stop believing in dreams that aren't ever coming true."

Catherine said nothing, she just focused on her driving. And Greg fell into an unusual quiet as he stared contemplatively out the window. It wasn't an awkward silence anymore. There was nothing heavy or unpleasant hanging in the air between them. The car was quiet, and they were comfortable with that.

And neither of them broke that comfortable quiet until they reached Lake Mead.

Catherine pulled into a parking space and she and Greg leapt out of the car, walking towards the docks beneath two umbrellas. By the time they reached them, they saw Brass heading their way, waving at them in the rain.

"You look wet," Catherine said, safely beneath her umbrella.

"You didn't make supervisor for nothing, I can see that," Brass returned with amused sarcasm. He noticed Greg, whose eyes were scanning the boats on the dock. He opened his mouth to say something when the young CSI cut him off.

"Where's Nick?"

Brass threw a thumb over his shoulder, down the long, narrow path of the dock. "Last boat on the end, looking some things over. What are you doing here?"

Greg opened his mouth to reply, and both Brass and Catherine waited. The latter folded her arms and waited for Greg to say something about his dream.

But then, he closed his mouth again and shrugged in that careless, carefree manner he used to have so often so many years ago. "I wasn't doing anything and I thought Nick and Catherine could use the help."

Catherine smiled, pride flooding her chest as she looked at Greg, all grown up and rational.

But Greg's eyes were on the boat at the end of the dock. "Did you hear that?" he asked the other two.

Catherine hadn't heard anything, but Brass nodded and started heading in the direction of the dock with Greg on his heels. Catherine followed, curious as to what they had both heard, when Greg picked up speed and passed Brass, running down the dock. Slightly surprised, Brass started to jog after Greg, calling his name, telling him to stop.

Trailing after the both of them, Catherine maintained her brisk walk. Whatever they had heard, it had ignited that fearful fire beneath Greg's heels. Catherine chewed on her lip, wondering if she wanted to know what was at the end of the dock. But as they neared the boat, she could guess. There was splashing sounds, and then suddenly, there was nothing.

Brass moved to the very end of the dock, but Greg, for whatever reason, had chosen to run onto the boat, following his instincts, Catherine assumed, and she came to a decision.

"What do you see?" she asked Brass at the end of the dock.

"There's some sort of commotion at the stern of the boat," Brass replied, then turned to her. "Go after Greg, he could get hurt."

Catherine nodded rapidly, then dropped her umbrella and leapt up onto the boat, following Greg, who she saw down on the diving dock, scanning the water frantically. His flashlight swept over the waves, turning the water white. He whipped around when he heard her approach, his eyes wild, his face gaunt.

"I don't see him, do you?!" he asked anxiously.

Her mouth partially open, she shook her head.

He spun around again to scan the surface of the choppy water, unable to determine any significant disturbances due to the storm. Catherine found that she couldn't move at all. He knees had locked, her feet glued to the spot, and she felt absolutely useless.

"I don't see him!" she heard Greg shout again. "Catherine!"

And at his desperate call, she was reanimated, and she ran to him like she would run to Lindsey when her daughter cried out after a nightmare. She wrapped her arms around him, forcing him to look away, and grasped the back of his head, even as he struggled, even as he told her no.

"Greg, listen to me. Have you checked the cabin? Is he there?"

"No, Catherine, there was a splash, something fell into the water—"

"How could you hear that in this weather?" Catherine asked. "The waves are making all kinds of splashing sounds, Greg—"

"Catherine!" Greg protested. "Don't ask me how I know, I just know!"

And then, she saw something. A flicker of white beneath the glassy green waves over Greg's shoulder. And without thinking, she pushed him away and said, "There!"

Greg turned to see where she was pointing. And then, without a word of warning to Catherine, he pushed her back and dove into the water, leaving her furious and frantic.