This story was written for the 7th installment of the Nick Fic Song Challenge at TalkCSI. The challenge was to write a Nick fic of no more than 2,500 words based on the song, "It Was an Accident", by Don Conoscenti (a great singer/songwriter! check him out!). Hope you enjoy! :-)

Déjà Vu

"You'll do just fine," said Catherine as she walked down the hallway with Nick at police headquarters.

"Yeah well…" he said, stopping to fiddle with his tie again.

"Here, let me see." Catherine stepped in front of him and took the tie in her hands. She straightened it and loosened the knot a little. "Geeze, Nicky, what are you trying to do? Hang yourself?"

Nick laughed humorlessly as he stretched his neck upward. "No, thanks…plenty of people lining up for that job."

Catherine finished adjusting his tie and smoothed his lapel with her hands. "Oh come on," she said. "It's just procedure. You know that. Just tell them what happened and everything will be fine."

"Catherine," he replied as they resumed walking, "are you kidding me? With the press all over this the mayor's got me hanging out there taking all the hits for him." He sighed heavily. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"I know you didn't. It's politics, Nick, that's all."

"Politics, huh? Guess that's why Grissom isn't coming?" he said.

Catherine laughed. "Be glad he isn't. Gil and politics don't mix."

"Still…some support would be nice."

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "What am I?!"

Nick smiled and reached to open the door for her. "I know. Thank you."

She turned to look at him before entering the room. "Nick, don't worry. We'll find it."

"I had every reason to do it!"

Nick's words echoed through the large, mostly empty room. At the long table in the front sat the three Internal Affairs investigators. Nick sat at a smaller table facing them.

"Calm down, Stokes," said Carl Drake from the panel. "You're not on trial here."

"No? Sure feels like it," Nick replied angrily.

"You say you had every reason to do it. Okay…give me one." Drake made a "come here" motion with his hands as he leaned back in his chair. "Give me just one reason why you would shoot an unarmed man."

Nick stared pointedly at Drake, pondering the question. The little prick had been trying to provoke him all morning, and it was starting to work. "I told you," he replied evenly. "He wasn't unarmed."

"Really? Then where's the gun?" asked Drake.

Nick sighed. "Again…I don't know. Look, we're…they're not finished gathering all of the evidence yet. Why are we…"

"And you think that now, after three days, the gun is going to magically appear out of nowhere?" the investigator interrupted.

"I don't know. It's somewhere. There were a lot of people around…it was chaotic…someone must have picked it up."

Drake snorted. "That's convenient."

"All right, Carl, that's enough," said Paul Riggs, the lead investigator. "Let's stick to the facts here. Mr. Stokes, go through it one more time for me…just the facts."

Nick could almost feel Catherine behind him, begging him to stay in control, and the feeling was just enough to make him literally bite his tongue, take a deep breath, and speak calmly. "Okay. We got a call about a guy with a gun." He could not help but emphasize the word and look at Drake as he said it. "The call said he was waving it around, threatening some kids at the playground and people coming out of that little store there on the corner…Mac's at Fifth and Chesterton. The store owner came out and told him to beat it, and the guy followed him back into the store, pulled out a knife, and stabbed him in the arm."

At that Drake interrupted him again. "You're telling us that a guy with a gun pulled out a knife to use instead of just shooting the gun?"

"I'm not telling you that," replied Nick. "That's what the call said. That's the information we had when we responded."

"What did you see when you responded?" asked Riggs.

Nick sighed and continued. "The EMTs were there tending to Mr. Austin, the store owner. He was bleeding pretty badly, but they thought he would be okay once they got him to the hospital. The officers had the store blocked off, but there were a lot of people outside. I went into the store, and the knife was on the floor. I took some pictures and was starting to pick it up when I heard a bunch of shouting outside. So I went out to see what was going on."

"And what was going on?" asked Ron Hayden, the third member of the panel.

"People were shouting that they'd seen the guy around back…that he was running. One of the officers ran after him, but the others were trying to keep the crowd from going after him too. I went back into the store and then I heard some noise in the back…in the storage area. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else in there, so I went back to see what it was. The back door was open partway, and I heard panting in the corner. I pulled my weapon and shouted for whoever it was to come out. There was no response, so I said it again and got on the radio to tell them I had the guy." Nick stopped speaking long enough to take a drink from the bottle of water on the table.

"Go on, Mr. Stokes," said Riggs.

"The next thing I knew, there he was…standing in front of me."

"Sean Jackson?" asked Riggs, referring to the young man who was now lying in Desert Palms Hospital, recovering from a bullet hole in his left shoulder, courtesy of Nick Stokes' Smith & Wesson SW99.

"Yeah…him. The gun was at his side…in his right hand. I told him to put it down, and he just looked at me, then took off running…hit the back door and was out. And I took off after him."

"Why didn't you just tell the officers where he was?" asked Hayden.

"They were all out front. Except for the one that went chasing him, and he was off who knows where. The kid had ducked back into the store…the officer kept going."

"So you went after him," said Riggs. "Then what?"

"I was yelling at him to stop. He turned around and he had the gun up and pointed at me. There wasn't anything to duck behind…we were out in the open…I heard the gun cock…and he shot…and so did I."

Drake sat up straight and asked, "Then how come everyone said they just heard one shot?"

Nick shook his head. "I don't know…it must have been a split second before mine."

"And how come he didn't have a gun on him when the officers got to him?"

"They weren't looking for one. They just cuffed him and then the EMTs were on him and there were a bunch of people…they all came running over…one of them must have taken it."

"Again…convenient," said Drake.

"What are you trying to say, Drake?" asked Nick, his voice rising. "Is that how you think I work?"

"You do have a history of pulling that gun out a lot."

"When I have to! You think I just go around shooting people? Let alone unarmed people?!"

"Wouldn't be the first time," said Drake with a smirk.

The silence in the room was deafening. Nick sat stunned with his mouth open, his heart pounding, not knowing what to say. He finally managed to stammer out, "What?"

"I said," Drake replied as he leaned forward, "it wouldn't be the first time that you shot an unarmed man. Am I wrong?"

The others on the panel looked at Nick, and he could feel the stares from the people sitting behind him. "No. You're not wrong."

Drake nodded in satisfaction. "I thought not. So, I'm afraid we're going to have to take that into consideration as we conduct our investigation."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Nick asked.

"Nick!" The exclamation came from behind him as Catherine was both stunned by his admission and startled by his outburst.

"Mr. Stokes, let's please keep this civil," admonished Riggs. "To what, exactly, is Mr. Drake referring?"

Nick clenched his teeth and set his jaw, trying to control his anger. He didn't know what this Drake guy had against him, but he wasn't going to let him railroad him on this. "I was 18. It was an accident.

Nick heard the doorbell and turned down the music on the stereo on his way to the door. "Hey, Doug! Pizza's here!" he shouted to his roommate who was in the shower. It was almost 2:00 in the morning, but this small, rented house just a block off campus was like the others around it…lit up and loud with the sounds of music and parties as the Texas A&M students pulled all-nighters, studying part of the time and drinking most of the time.

Nick grabbed the pile of one dollar bills stacked up on the table and opened the door. "Hey, man…it's about t…" He stopped short at the sight of the tall man in a hooded sweatshirt pointing a gun at him. "What…"

"Shut the fuck up!" The man grabbed the cash out of Nick's hand. "Where's the rest of it? Gimme the rest of it. Now!" He held the gun out farther.

"That's it…that's it, that's all we have."

"You're lying!" The man took a step toward the door and pushed the gun against Nick's chest. "Get in there and…"

Just then a light came on from the porch next door and three drunken freshman burst out of the door singing at the tops of their lungs. The action momentarily distracted the man on Nick's doorstep, and Nick took the opportunity, delivering a swift kick between the man's legs. The man dropped to the ground, cursing and moaning, and let go of the gun. Nick was stunned for a moment, unsure of what to do, until he saw the man reaching for the gun. Nick bent over and grabbed it just as the man was about to get it.

"Son of bitch!" the man cursed, and he lunged at Nick's legs as he was trying to get back into the house. The motion caught Nick off guard, and he fell backward, his head hitting the doorknob as he went down.

Dazed, Nick held the gun in front of him as the man straddled him, trying to wrench it away. The man put one hand on Nick's throat, leaning on him with all of his weight as he used his other hand to fight for control of the weapon. Nick's vision began to darken as his oxygen supply was cut off, but he did not let go of the gun. As the man continued to struggle with him, Nick heard and felt the gun go off. Suddenly, he could breathe again, and he scrambled out from under the now unconscious would-be thief. He stood over the man, holding the gun and staring in disbelief as blood began to seep out from under the body.

"Nick! What the fuck happened?"

He looked up to see his roommate, towel around his waist, staring at him. In the distance, sirens began to wail.

"It was an accident," Nick repeated. "I…I called my dad. He came…the police were there…I just…" He looked down the line of men seated before him. "I didn't mean to do it."

Riggs was shuffling through the papers in front of him. "I didn't see any of this in your file, Stokes. How did you get hired on here without someone knowing about this?"

"It's not in the file. I told you…I didn't do anything wrong. There were no charges. Those guys next door…they saw everything. Even though they'd been drinking…their story matched up with mine and the evidence…the guy had a record of robbing people in their homes..." Nick stopped talking and looked down at the table for a moment. "He died," he said quietly. "The guy died."

The room was silent again until Riggs spoke. "I think we're done here for now, gentlemen. And Drake? You're done for good. I'm taking you off of this case. Mr. Stokes, I apologize for my colleague's behavior. We'll be in touch."

Warrick Brown stood in the lot behind Mac's grocery, surrounded by trainees and a few disgruntled lab rats. "All right, people! We're gonna do this one more time, and we're gonna do it right! Spread out…grid search…the whole lot and beyond…as far as you have to go to find something useful." The group dispersed and began walking, heads down, looking for evidence. "Anything'll do, but what we really want is the gun!"

David Hodges sniffed in annoyance as he stood rooted in one place, hands on his hips, twisting his body from one side to the other as he looked around his immediate area.

"Hodges, man…c'mon…get your feet movin'," said Warrick. "You're not gonna find a gun just standing there by the back door."

Hodges pursed his lips and squinted his eyes as he cocked his head, looking toward the back of the store. "No," he replied as he took two steps and stood next to the door. He leaned over and used his gloved hand to pry something out of the wood there and stood up, turning to face Warrick. "But how about a bullet?"

Warrick wore a look of disbelief as he held his hand out and Hodges placed the bullet in it. He looked at the bullet, then back at Hodges.

"I assume I can head back to the lab now?" Hodges asked.

"Nick, why didn't you tell us?" Grissom asked.

Nick sat next to Catherine on the opposite side of Grissom's desk. He looked at his supervisor and then at Catherine. Her eyes asked the same question. He sighed and answered, "It was a long time ago. It's not something I like to think about."

"But it could have affected your job performance," said Grissom.

"It hasn't. There's a reason it's not in my file, Grissom. It doesn't have anything to do with my job or how I do it. It's over…done…it's in the past."

"But, Nick," added Catherine. "It's a very traumatic thing. How can you think it won't affect your job somehow?"

Nick laughed a little and leaned back in his chair. "Catherine, you forget…I'm an expert at handling traumatic events. Right?"

Catherine sighed and looked at Grissom, then back at Nick.

"Look," he said, "believe me…I went to counseling…I dealt with it. It wasn't my fault. I know that. I've moved on. I just…I don't want it to affect this case."

"It won't," said Grissom. "Catherine?"

She smiled as she looked at Nick. "We matched the bullet Hodges found to a gun registered to Sean Jackson's father. It proves he shot at you. The D.A. says he'll push forward with charges, even without the gun. And Riggs has closed his investigation."

Nick let out a sigh and nodded his head, the relief obvious on his face. "What about Jackson?"

Typical Nick, she thought. "He's going to be just fine," she replied.

"Good," said Nick.