Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Still reeling from the preview for next week. I keep watching it to make sure I didn't imagine it. And in between viewings, I wrote this. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for all the amazing feedback.

Home Invasion

by Kristen Elizabeth

Home is a name, a word; it is a strong one, stronger than magician every spoke or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration. – Charles Dickens

Nick showed up at the townhouse with beer, pizza, and a plastic grin on his face that instantly told Sara everything she needed to know.

"He told you to keep an eye on me, didn't he?"

The edges of his smile drooped. "No," he lied. "I just thought you could use some company while he's in New York." Sara's eyebrow arched. Thinking fast, Nick held up the pizza box. "It's all veggie on whole wheat crust."

She snatched the box out of his hands. "I want you to know, I'm only taking this because I'm starving. I am in no way approving of or adhering to Grissom's request, got it?"

"Duly noted."

No sooner had he stepped foot inside than Hank, who had finally gotten up to investigate the stranger at the door, began barking. It wasn't entirely menacing, just his obligatory reminder to their guest that he was aware of their presence, and if they caused any trouble for his people, he'd be there to do something about it.

However, five seconds later, after Nick knelt down and began scratching behind the dog's ears, Hank was putty in his hands.

"That's our watchdog." Sara shook her head as she headed into the kitchen for paper plates. "Bad until you give him a bone."

Nick stood; Hank looked up at him with mournful eyes. "Did Grissom have him before you two…" He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence without creating a bad mental picture.

"For a few months," she replied from the other room. Coming back out with the plates, she gave the dog an exasperated, but loving smile. "He and Hank were a package deal." Sara watched Nick as he glanced around the room and took in the overstuffed bookshelves, the framed insects, the yellow-green walls. "This is weird for you. Isn't it?"

He started to shake his head, but changed his mind and nodded. "You live here…with Grissom. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around it. I always figured something had to have more than four legs to live at Grissom's house."

Sara handed him a beer from the six-pack he'd set aside. "I guess I shouldn't give you a tour then. The bedroom might make your head explode."

Nick popped the top and drained a third of the can. When he spoke, his voice was fizzy and desperate to change the subject. "Pizza?"

Twenty minutes later, half the pie was gone and Nick was on his second beer, clearly relaxed. Sara set down her half-eaten piece, leaned forward and leveled him with a look. "All right. What did he say when he asked you to check on me?" Nick tried to protest, but she waved a finger at him. "Uh-uh. The jig is up, Stokes."

"Look, Sara…" Nick gave in with a sigh. "You of all people should know that Grissom's not big on lengthy explanations. Especially about stuff in his personal life." He took a sip of beer. "He told me you got upset at the Boulder City scene, and he had to go out of town, and would I mind making sure you had dinner and someone to talk to you if you needed it."

Sara plucked an olive off her pie slice. "Yeah. That sounds like him."

"So…" Nick cleared his throat. "Do you need to talk?"

"What do you think I need to talk about?"

"Maybe the fact that you haven't touched your beer? And I brought your favorite kind." They locked stares until Nick flashed her a guilty smile. "Or I could just shut up and mind my own business."

"The scene was hard," Sara admitted as she stripped the veggies off the remainder of her dinner. "It was brutal and random and unnecessary."

She began feeding the crust to Hank in pieces. Nick watched her until she was almost done. "The thing is…most of what we see is like that, Sara. And if it's starting to get to you…" He paused. "Are you having any nightmares or flashbacks?" She glanced at him. "I still do every now and then," he confessed. "Makes some days a whole heck of a lot worse than they have to be."

"I saw a psychologist, Nick. I got a clean bill of mental health." With Hank scarfing down the last of her crust, she started gathering their plates and napkins. "For the rest of my life, whenever I'm at a tough scene or I get overworked or tired or understandably upset over a husband having to watch his wife be raped and murdered, is my stability going to be called into question just because of what happened in the desert?"

Nick shrugged. "I'll let you know if it ever stops for me."

Sara disappeared into the kitchen with the trash, returning a few seconds later with a bottle of water. "You know….Gil and I were watching a movie the other night." She wasn't looking at him even though she was staring at the couch on which he sat. "On the couch…curled up…unsuspecting. Just like they were."

"Don't do that," he warned. "Don't start comparing yourself to the victims. It's a really bad road to go down." Frowning, he added, "You used to get on my butt about that all the time. Empathizing…remember?"

Her head moved back and forth slowly, but her eyes never blinked. "I've always known life was unpredictable. It just didn't really matter before. When I didn't have anything to lose."

"Okay." Nick jumped to his feet and walked to her. "Listen to me, Sara." He took her cold hand between his. "I'm not a professional counselor, and I'm not going to insult you by acting like I know anything about what you're feeling right now. But I want you to do something for me." Sara blinked and focused on him. "I want you to look around this place. The last time I was here, the walls were white, the floors were concrete, and the bugs were more obsessive than decorative. There was no dog or comfy couch. It didn't feel like anyone really lived here." He squeezed her fingers. "You turned Grissom's house into a home."

"And…" She titled her head to one side with a slight frown. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's just supposed to remind you that even on days when you can't stop a crazy psycho from raping and murdering…you do make a difference."

Sara's smile was quick and wry. "If you were considering becoming a counselor, I think you made the right career choice, Nick"

Hank barked when Nick gave her a friendly shove. Nick apologized with another, longer ear-scratching session and all was forgiven.

It was almost two on the east coast, but she knew he'd be awake. And she was right—Grissom answered the phone after the first ring.

"You should be sleeping," Sara scolded him in greeting.

Thousands of miles away, Grissom settled back into the stiff pillows his hotel had provided. "Yes. But it's very hard to sleep when I have the whole bed to myself, dear. I don't know what to do with all the extra room."

"I would have gone with you," she quietly reminded him. "We could have stayed a few extra days. Spent some time together."

"New York isn't going to host our first real vacation, Sara. I'm reserving that right for someplace slightly more…tropical."

She smiled into the phone. "I can't argue with that." A moment passed. "How's the case?"

"Progressing." Grissom gave her a quick rundown of his short time in New York. "I might be here for another couple of days, though."

"I see," Sara said thoughtfully. "Will it be Nick coming by with food every night, then, or do you have the team on a rotating schedule?" He was utterly quiet, and she could just picture the shocked look on his face. "Busted, Gilbert."

He sighed. "I only asked him because we didn't have a chance to really talk before I left." Grissom rushed on, "I didn't do it because I think you need someone to take care of you, Sara. I just thought…it might help. Nick's always been a good friend to you and I trust him and he cares about you…and Catherine would have forced you to talk even if you didn't want to…and Greg might have tried to cop a feel. So…"

"Baby," Sara stopped him. "This is the part where I would usually kiss you so you'd quit babbling."

"Did I mess up, Sara?" His question came suddenly and took her aback. "By following the case…did I leave you when you need me?"

"I always need you." Her hand shook a bit as she held the phone to her ear. "And we can't be together all the time…can we?"

"As soon as I get back, let's sit down and talk about the wedding."

"I don't need a wedding."

"But honey…" She could feel his smile from all the way across the country. "I want to give you one."

At this, Sara couldn't chase away a smile of her own. "We'll talk about it," she conceded. "For now though, do me a favor. Call off your troops. I'm fine. I'm tired and a little sad and I miss you. But having Nick sleep on our couch isn't going to help that."

"Nick is sleeping on our couch?"

"He drank the better half of a six-pack. He's not driving anywhere until tomorrow."

Now she could definitely imagine him scowling at the younger man's behavior. "Make sure Hank's the one to wake him up in the morning," Grissom said. "A face full of dog spit sounds like the perfect way for him to start his day."

Sara shook her head, still smiling. "Go to bed," she told him. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Sara," he said before she could hang up. "I love you. You know that…right?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Goodnight."

She closed up the phone and pressed it to her lips, like he might be able to feel the kiss in New York. In the living room, Nick was snoring lightly as he slept off his beer buzz. Hank was turning circles around the bedroom floor, searching for the perfect position to settle down.

Sara crawled into bed wearing one of Grissom's T-shirts and for a long time she laid in the dark, willing sleep to claim her, too. It was only when she took another shirt of his and spread it over her pillow that she finally slept, lured into dreamless peace by the one scent that always comforted her.

Because it always smelled like home.

Fin