Greg had to be honest—he’d never really questioned it. And he liked to question things, if only to learn all the possible answers. He liked to study—and sometimes even participate in—the atypical. But he wasn’t naive. Well, maybe in some senses, and he knew that, but it was part of his charm, right?

Just...not when it came to science. Sure, he loved to play with it, to show off and display his knowledge with silly questions and anecdotes, but he didn’t take the validity of it for granted. He didn’t think all babies were specially 'designed' with specific intent and ‘purpose’ by some type of ‘creator’—no, he knew it was all up to chance. A one-in-a-billion shot that these two sets of genetic information would combine in just the ‘right’ (or sometimes very wrong) way. He wasn’t appalled by the fact that his parents had simply had sex, and against all odds, he popped out. He knew there was no ‘divine’ authority that thought his parents or family or even society deserved to be suddenly ‘blessed’ with his birth. Nope, it all came down to simple—no, extremely complex—biology.

And he appreciated that. It fascinated him, always, and that’s what drove him to excel in the general area. That, and his mind had the ability to easily comprehend and regurgitate it, but he liked it, too.

Then, there were other things that he just simply...accepted. He’d always been sort of free-spirited, open and interested in other people’s ways of life, specifically those most often kept secret. But he’d never really looked too deeply into, well, his own. Sure, there were things he learned about and as a result immersed himself in, if only for the experience. But then there were things that had always been with him. Beliefs supported for generations around him, as they even believed he held it as well.

He never really thought there could be other explanations, but he didn’t really care to know about them, either. It all fascinated him the way it was, and everyone was so educated and serious about it, he never had much reason to question its merits.

So it was no surprise that he jumped at the chance to work this case. Like an excited little puppy, tail flapping wildly at the opportunity to demonstrate his expertise to the man he flippantly labeled a ‘cynic’. After all, Greg had found things that fit—the proof Grissom couldn’t ignore. Grissom just didn’t want to believe it, is all—he never let his mind escape the restraints of reason and hard logic.

“You called Grissom a cynic? Are you serious, man?”

Greg’s expression stilted slightly. Nick was supposed to agree, not pop out with that. “Yeah... He was dead-set on proving her wrong.”

“No one ever told you, did they?”

“...that Grissom visited a psychic? Yeah, he told me. I bet he had a blast debunking her, too.”

“Greg, he completely embraced the ‘clairvoyant’ who claimed he saw ‘visions’ when Nigel Crane was stalking me. Everyone else was cynical, but not Gris. Ask him—to this day he’ll still say that guy knew things that nobody else possibly could have, and that Grissom has no means to explain otherwise.”

“So...you believe he really saw those visions? That he saved you?”

“No,” Nick frankly replied, almost laughing in his appall with the mere idea. “He coulda been in on it for all I know. I don’t believe in any of that stuff, man—they’re all a bunch of con-artists preying on vulnerable people.”

“No they’re not. I mean, some do, but some of them aren’t even in it for the money. Some of them just help people.”

“Greg, they’re still not real. You couldn’t find me one psychic who can’t be ‘debunked.’ They use cold-reading by asking vague questions, making you give the answers, and then reading your responses to figure out which direction to go next. Some even hot-read where they'll chat you up beforehand or have go-between guys who talk to you or spy on you to gather info before the ‘reading’. More importantly, they waste the time and energy of law enforcement folks with their asinine antics, and take advantage of innocent people with their lies.”

“Nana Olaf never lied. I saw her work.”

“Nana Olaf? I thought that was your grandpa’s first name.”

“Oh...yeah.”

“Anyway, Greg, I respect your desire to believe your grandma, but you were a kid, man—of course you believed it. Heck, I believed in Santa until I was nine.”

“You’re comparing my Nana to Santa?”

Nick sighed, apologetic. “I didn’t mean it like that. We’re all just led to believe things as kids that we’ll keep on believing even into adulthood if the people we trust assure us that it’s the truth, especially if they believe it, too. Look, I’m not claiming your grandma purposefully manipulated people—maybe she really believed in her powers, but the truth is she’s probably just really good at reading people. And I think you’ve got a bit of that, too—you like learning about people and you’re interested in that. Maybe she’s where you got it from.”

Greg stared downward in thought, appearing almost forlorn. “My family always thought I inherited her sixth sense.”

Nick shook his head, though sympathetic in his imminent disagreement. “You just got her skills of observation, G. And that’s a good thing—it can come in handy in our line of work. But believing in things just because they seem to fit what you want to believe, isn’t helpful at all. That’s not science, man—and we’re scientists. You can’t let that stuff interfere with your work.”

“That’s what Grissom said—‘the power of suggestion.’ I came in believing her, and found the things that fit. But Grissom figured out the truth. He never believed in her.”

“He never wanted to, Greg. But I’d bet he wasn’t completely closed off to her, either. He didn’t go in with any bias, and he let the evidence speak instead of speaking for it. And that’s what we have to do.”

“What about you? Isn’t there anything that you just...believe? You know, without science—or even opposing science—because you just feel it instead?”

“No. I don’t believe in ghosts or angels, aliens or psychics, or even god—just don’t tell my parents about that one. I believe in reason, Greg. I believe in morality, too, even though science can’t always explain where it comes from or what it is—so I guess that’s about as far as I go with what you’re referring to. I just believe in humans, and their ability to love, hate, kill, and create life. No god could explain or defend the miserable situations we witness every day. It all comes down to humanity, individuals who create their own purpose, their own potential. And a lot of times they use it to end somebody else’s.”

“See, I’ve never really even disagreed with most of that. I just...I believe in my Nana. In my family.”

“I understand that. It took me a while to break from my family’s beliefs—I wanted to trust them, too. But I couldn’t deny all the blows of reality that I’ve been struck with day in and day out. I still respect them, and I understand how they can’t see outside of it, because I was there, too. But I can’t put reason in the backseat just because I love my family.”

“Nana never made it religious. She just saw into the your future She told us so many things, and...she just knew.”