Maggie sat across from Nick again, tapping her feet on the cool floor and enjoying the A.C. above their heads. It was the next morning, hot and clear, no rain in sight (and relief coming in the form of cold air in any building they entered). The two, off of a shift again, had decided on breakfast at a local diner alone and knew that they needed to talk things out again, especially after the phone call from the night before. They had expected it. Grissom, most of all, had expected it, and even encouraged them enough, telling them to make up and be considerate to each other. However, he also emphasized civil and professional behavior, believing that the two could manage it still. The two were even well-versed in all of the décor, demeanor and stature that defined the character Grissom was.

Both even nervously took their coffee cups and egg and bacon breakfasts from the eager hands of their young waitress, twisting the food in circles and twirling their sugar and cream into ovals of brown and white. No words were spoken except their thanks to the waitress that brought their food, but the silent pleas for the other to start were clearly painted painfully on their faces. Finally, as Maggie sipped her coffee – not black for once – Nick cleared his throat, obviously nervous.

"You know, the last time I came here was when Warrick was – you know, when he was alive. We were together, with the team. And we had acquitted him." Nick spooned a small portion of eggs into his mouth, grief lining his eyes, his dark eyes threatening tears again.

Oh, God, I can't handle this. Please don't let him cry. Maggie selfishly thought it, but did not voice it. The small part of her mind told her not to argue, not to shake Nick and tell him to bring more sense into his mind…to rid himself of grief…but she could not, allowing it to control her mind, keeping it within its confines. She was barely over her own grief and, added to Eric leaving and her heart being empty and aching once more with a break-up, she could hardly add to the anguish Nick had.

"We also came here when we first met," Maggie reminded him quietly, trying to stay positive and picturing the scene at the same time, smiling as she did.

"We did," Nick remembered, looking up at Maggie with softer eyes.

Maggie and Nick both took each other's hands and held them together, smiling and laughing at the same thought they had.

"It's just like before," Nick mused quietly, treading over with care.

"Nothing can be totally repeated to the T. And I don't think I want it to. I can't relive through all of that again." Maggie shook her dark head with vigor, remembering their first morning together and wishing, in some small way, that it would come back…and then go away. She could not relive that bittersweet moment, knowing what would happen next.

"Something I'm sure Grissom never taught you," Nick replied, taking another sip of his coffee. "I'm sure as hell confident that I never heard him teach about love."

"He's taught us many things, but nothing like this." Maggie paused. "He's learning himself, and has been trying to figure it out for many years. How can he help us with this, other than telling us to play nice? He can hardly hide his own affair with Sara."

"I think we did a good job, Maggie, better than Grissom and Sara. Or, can I call you Maggs? Is it a new nickname?"

"Only Ursula can do that and she's not here to tease me. Lay off it, Nick."

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm playing nice, aren't I?" Nick took his hand off of Maggie's and took another bite out of his breakfast, another sip of his coffee. "Come on, Maggie. It'll be ok. It always has been between us…right?"

"It's easy for you to say, you know that?" Maggie almost stood up with anger, remembering the old arguments before they broke up, before she got herself into more trouble than she could even imagine. "You didn't have to see your parents murdered. You didn't have to go through the pain of reliving it and then having the killer end up being the person who sexually assaulted you in high school and obsessed over you ever since. Hell, Nick, Jason Napolitano had a small room dedicated to me – pictures and threats and everything like that – and his wife didn't even know about it until he was dead and gone. Brass found it after the high school shooting he staged, remember? Or, is it easy for you to forget something like that?"

"Is it really that easy, dammit?" Nick banged the table in total anger, causing a few customers and workers to turn their heads in curiosity. "Maggie, you really don't know how angry I was. Do you really think it was easy for me to see you kidnapped and raped and left for dead? I was the one who processed your body, if you remember correctly. With Brass behind me. And I found you alive, you…you…dammit, you won't understand, will you?"

Maggie's sudden rage turned to sympathy, pity even, as she watched Nick turn from his older, argumentative self to the emotional. He broke down, almost crying, curling into a corner of their booth and nearly putting his head into his hands. But Nick held back as he reminded himself where he was, composing himself and turning his face stoic once more.

She herself soon sighed with frustration, pulling at her hair even. However, seeing Nick's grief brought on new questions, new inquiries about the years they had been apart. Something had been really bothering Nick – much more than Warrick's sudden death – and Maggie had to find out what it was before she exploded with her own insecurities and mixed feelings. She could not just stand up and leave again without knowing what was badgering Nick's conscious being. She knew, without asking, that something was totally wrong.

Maggie put her hand back on Nick's when it became free of his coffee cup and squeezed it gently. "What happened?" she asked, putting on her C.S.I. role, wondering what put Nick into fits.

Nick's fork froze midair. He put it down, sighing and knowing what Maggie was trying to do. Gulping, he said slowly, "I was kidnapped, just like you were. And –"

"Don't tell me…" Maggie panicked, interrupting.

"No, no, Maggie…I was buried alive. And nobody knew where I was and I'm so afraid. I'm afraid that it'll happen again and I don't be able to help anybody or myself or thing, especially with…dammit, Maggie, why did you have to come back and complicate everything…?" Nick faltered, but then broke down again, crying as his head hit the table.

"Oh, Nick, don't – no, Nick, don't do this to me." Maggie's frantic whispers soon turned to endearments, trying to get Nick to release his anguish, his pain. But soon enough, she, too, was crying slow tears, remembering and suddenly realizing how much they still needed each other in a way, still could be together if they tried. Even the pain of Eric's departure the night before did not hit her as hard as her previous decision to leave Nick. And it smacked her right in the face, reminding her that she could have been there, could have helped him when he needed it.

After the both had calmed down – when the stares of everybody had faded as the busy breakfast hours pulled in – they had resumed their breakfasts, silence reigning over them until Maggie finally said without looking up from her bacon, "It was a bad decision, a horrible mistake. I should not have made it."

"Made what mistake?" Nick asked softly, resuming his daily ritual of stuffing his face with breakfast, albeit a cold one. Their hands still remained entwined.

"Leaving you," Maggie simply answered, leaning over to kiss Nick on the forehead as he put more eggs and some bacon into his mouth.