Suddenly

by Saskia Mitchell

When Nick and Sara make a deal, can they keep each other at arm's length? NSR.

Suddenly

By: Saskia Mitchell Van Allen

Rating: R. For sexual situations, and language. Not too bad, though.

Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, but to the v. creative people over at CBS, Alliance Atlantis, Anthony Zuiker and of course, the actors who breathe life into the words on a page. I profit in no way from this story. I did get crazy with the backstory, though, please forgive me.

Notes: The song below is by Saliva. Just kinda fit. Plus, I listened to it on repeat while I wrote the sex scenes. I think that maybe that makes me a masochist. Sigh

Look at me, my depth perception must be off again
Cause this hurts deeper than I thought it did
It has not healed with time
It just shot down my spine _ You look so beautiful tonight
Remind me how you laid us down
And gently smiled before you destroyed my life
Would you find it in your heart
To make this go away
And let me rest in pieces
Would you find it in your heart?
To make this go away
And let me rest in pieces
Would you find it in your heart?
To make it go away
And let me rest in pieces
Look at me, my depth perception must be off again
You got much closer than I thought you did
I'm in your reach
You held me in your hands
But could you find it in your heart?
To make this go away
And let me rest in pieces
Would you find it in your heart?
To make it go away
And let me rest in
--Saliva, Rest In Pieces

Chapter I – Confessions

The knock at her door sounded loud—too loud, too harsh in her empty apartment. Wiping away the tears that clung to the skin of her cheeks, she made her way to her front door cautiously. Looking into the fisheye lens, she saw her best friend giving her door a cheesy grin. She unbolted the locks and pulled the door open, leaving him to come in and close it behind him. She went back to her couch and tucked her foot up underneath her bottom. As he sat down next to her, it took all of two seconds for him to see her face and realized what had happened.

Sara wasn't surprised when Nick wrapped his arm around her, pulling her body towards his. Nick was just that...caring. To a fault, really. So willing to give of himself to others—to her, especially now when she needed him, needed someone. She hadn't called him here, but she certainly wasn't going to turn him away.

"Tell me what happened," was his soft command.

Sara shook her head, and fresh tears emerged, soaking Nick's shirt.

"Why? Why won't you tell me?"

"B-because it's stupid," Sara sniffled. Her tears subsided quickly. "It's Grissom," she finally admitted. Nick's jaw clenched. "I asked him for a date, and rejected me."

She stood, releasing Nick and moving towards the kitchen, unwilling for him to see her face. She didn't think he would mock her, but she didn't want him to think she was a sniveling little girl either—never that. "This huge part of me is sad," she continued, "but this other part of me is so relieved I can taste it. I won't have to wonder anymore where all the flirting is leading, wondering what he really feels, wondering if we have a chance together. Now I know...all roads lead to nothing."

"Sara," Nick's voice was a warning, he couldn't disagree with her, but he didn't want to agree with her either. A blind man wouldn't mistake the tension in the room when Grissom and Sara came together; couldn't miss the lilt in their voices when speaking to one another. Everyone in the lab knew Grissom had feelings for his young student, spoken and unspoken, and everyone most certainly knew of Sara's partiality, though she'd never said as much, either.

"Grissom's just different. I know you don't want to think badly of him because I know that you're friends, but Grissom just hides from his feelings because it's easier than dealing with them. My father always told me that being a real man meant three things, you loved God, you knew when to admit when you were wrong, and you knew that you could cry."

"Well, I don't think I've ever heard Grissom admit that he was wrong, I've certainly never seen him cry and I'm not sure he could even believe in the concept of God, or a god, much less a specific deity. It's all so unexplainable, unscientific."

"Well, that doesn't make my father completely right, either. There are plenty admirable men that have never let anyone see them cry, or that believe in God, and for the record, I've heard Grissom say he was wrong before. I'm just saying that Grissom likes to think that he's cut off from the rest of the world, that he's above the pettiness of everyday life, and that's what makes him blind to you."

When Sara came back in the living room, she held out a wineglass to Nick, and put the box on the coffee table between them.

"Wine from a box?" Nick asked with a grin. "Nothing but the best for company, huh?"

Sara blushed, "will you just try it before you knock it? It's good. Plus, you get like, a gallon and half for less than ten bucks," she laughed.

"Not bad," he commented after a long sip. "I'm giving you a hard time, my sisters love this stuff. It's definitely for those nights when you want to sit around and get drunk, and you don't care much *what* you drink."

"Well, I think I've been really drunk a total of twice in my entire life, but I'll buy it," Sara's throaty voice was playful, and Nick wished that he heard it more often. So often because of the job they had to be serious, and Nick knew Sara took it the hardest of anyone. She tried to be so tough, and at the same time, she was so very vulnerable. It could weigh you down, if you weren't careful. You would never rejoice the victories for feeling so guilty about the crimes you couldn't solve, the criminals that were too smart, the ones that got away.

"Do you remember the Collins case? The horrible one where the father had molested his own daughter and made her pregnant with what we thought was her younger sister?"

"How could I forget?"

"I think Grissom sent you to stay with that little girl because he thought that that would keep you removed from it, help to keep you from getting too emotionally involved. The thing is, you had to be the one to stay with that little girl even after we had proof of what her father had done. I remember how much you cried after that case, how upset you were. My point is that Grissom is not always right. I think part of the problem is you put him on this pedestal and expect him to keep up with the rest of us, and he just can't," Nick blurted. He gauged Sara's reaction, fully expecting her to fly off the handle, but she sat there a mulled it over.

"I know you're not wrong, Nick. But Grissom—he's such a decent man. I think you're selling him short, a little bit. There aren't many men who would want to solve crimes for a living, and fewer still that would consider it more than just a job. Forensics is in his blood; he's seen enough of it to be emotionally closed off. Because part of him is right, if you have to much empathy for each victim, eventually you just drain yourself."

"But you can't have no empathy for any victim, either," Nick argued. "Then you've lost what you started for." Sara watched him with careful eyes as he refilled his wineglass. He refilled hers and put it back into her hand.

"What did *you* start for?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Excuse me?"

"Why did you want to be a CSI? What enticed you into a life of crime?" she grinned, but Nick didn't return it. He was silent for a long moment, then studied her in the dim light that her lamp cast over the room. He'd told so few people his secret, and while he thought that Sara should know, there was so much vulnerability behind his secret—almost too much.

"We live our entire lives, trusting people inherently. It's not necessarily any big deal, but we don't think twice about it. We trust our parents, naturally, our parent's friends, the people we grew up with. We trust the cashier at the grocery store to give us correct change, we trust people in traffic to actually turn when they have their signal on, and so forth."

Sara reached out for his hand and curled her fingers around his, tightening her grip. He paused, gathering his courage, looking grateful for her touch. He took a long sip of wine, seeking fortification.

"See, my parents had gone out that night, and it was one of the only times that my sisters weren't around to sit for me, I was only nine, so I still definitely needed a baby-sitter. Frank and Rachel were already off at college by then, and I think Lacy and Jill and Alyson all had dates that night. Of course, Katie was only twelve, she couldn't really baby-sit. She had a friend over that night, Amanda Lafferty. They were sitting up in her room, giggling all night long," he smiled briefly at the memory, taking another drink.

"Mother'n'Dad always left us with Mrs. Peterson when they went out, she lived across the street, she had three boys that were about my age, and we played together all the time, but that night she couldn't come over, I think she had to go to the same thing. Anyway, they called over to Rachel's old friend Jessica to see if she could come sit, Jessica was taking a year off from school, and she'd always been around the house, so Mom thought that she was the next best. Jessica wasn't home, but her older sister was, so Jeanie—that was her name—she offered to baby-sit. We'd known the Tjastian's for years, Mom thought it was great that she'd gotten a sitter at the last minute."

Sara let go of his hand to pour more wine into their glasses, and then carefully took his hand again, warming his cold skin with hers, so warm.

"Once my parents left, I went up to my room to play Risk or Axis and Allies, or something like that, and the girls were down the hall, just giggling about every three seconds. I kept yelling at them to shut up, I never realized how much I liked hearing my sisters laughing," his wry grin was sad, and Sara scooted closer to him, knowing she was about to hear something terrible about his past. Her eyes were burning, and she was sure it wasn't just from the wine.

"I had taken a bath and gotten into bed around ten—and I was under the covers with a flashlight reading a Flash Gordon comic when I heard the door open. I thought it was my Mom, about to bust me, so I turned off the flashlight and tried to pretend like I was asleep—you know how a kid'll do. And then she sat down on my bed, near the end. When she called my name, I stuck my head out; I asked her if she was going to tell my mom. And she told me, not if I was good." A tear began to roll down Nick's cheek, and Sara's eyes burned hot and watered.

"I never knew what that meant. I just know she took off my pajamas, and she was so heavy on me, I'll never forget. I was so scared, I cried the whole time," Nick's voice hitched. He took a long gulp of wine, draining his glass. "I kept reciting the fifty capitals to myself, in alphabetical order, I couldn't even think about it. And it hurt so bad, she really hurt me."

Sara wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into his neck, crying so hard, harder than Nick. When he continued his story, she could feel his vocal cords reverberating.

"When my mother and father got home that night, I pretended to be asleep. I was just so grateful they were home. My father got up around six to go to work, and I went in to sleep with my mom. I hadn't slept a wink all night until I laid down with her. I remember how ashamed I was, and I never told anyone."

Sara sobbed against his neck, and his own tears were hot against his skin. He let go of her hand and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"About two years later, I saw Jeanie on the street, and ran home as fast as I could. I sat down with my mom at the kitchen table and told her the whole story. I begged her, begged her not to tell my father. I was so desperate for him to respect me, and I thought that would just shatter his whole image of me as his little man. My poor mother, she was so hurt and confused, she didn't know what to do. Her public life was so public, and her private life so private, I knew she didn't want to have one side bleed into the other. She wasn't ever one to make a scene, or cause a ruckus, and she was torn, I think, between protecting me and exposing me even more. So over cookies and milk we made a promise that we would never tell anyone else, ever."

"That case, that boy, the one who I thought had been molested by his psychiatrist, I just flipped out. Catherine was working with me, and I was just going crazy. She asked me what my problem was, and I told her, certainly the abridged version," Nick's harsh laugh was bitter. "I didn't even really let her say anything, I just walked away."

Sara's tears subsided; she pressed her forehead against Nick's, their tears mingling. His breath was hot on her face; the wine had definitely taken its effect. He smelled so good, and his touch was so gentle. Curled up, practically in his lap, Nick realized that Sara was about to kiss him only a second before she did. Her lips were so soft, and tender, and the kiss was chaste. Sara let go, only for a moment, to retrieve Kleenex for both of them to wipe their faces and blow their noses. Wrapping her arms around him again, she held him for his comfort and her own. Looking up at his red-rimmed eyes, she knew her own face was probably a fright.

Nick was taking in long, hitched breaths, and Sara was glad she was here with him, in this moment of his greatest pain. Looking down at her, Nick saw her concern, her love, as clearly as if she'd written it on her forehead with a ballpoint pen. Ducking down, he returned her kiss, gently, and her hands came around to cup his face. Nick was sure she was about to push him away when she whimpered very softly and deepened the kiss. Pulling her more squarely into his lap, he wrapped his arms around her more firmly and proceeded to kiss her again, this time with more gusto. Tongues clashed as they both sought to lose themselves in the kiss. Nick took her lower lip between his own teeth, and tugged tenderly, she responded enthusiastically. Breathlessly, they paused only a second before coming together again, desperately.

Nick sought her tongue, and sucked hard, causing Sara to release a moan of pleasure. Trembling against him, she couldn't believe how gentle he was and how much passion she felt. Desire was pulsing through her veins like wildfire, and she broke their kiss to take in a long, shuddering breath. Standing, Nick took her hand in his own and led her back towards her bedroom. Closing the door behind them, Sara realized the room was pitch black.

Without bothering to turn on the right, she began shedding her clothing, and after a few moments, heard Nick begin to do the same. She stumbled over the bed, and lay down, waiting for him to join her. Nick divested himself of everything but his boxers, and he lay beside Sara on the bed and took her into his arms again.

"Are you sure?" Sara's voice was quiet.

"Yes," Nick answered, leaning down to kiss her again. Sara allowed him to remove her undergarments and helped him with his own. She kissed and touched and writhed beneath his hard body, so sure in that moment that he was exactly what she wanted.

Sara had never been one for passion, or fantasy or lovemaking, even. Sex was simply means to an end. She was too practical for love, and too stubborn to admit she needed anyone. But as she lay there under Nick, crying out in pleasure as he moved with her body, she knew she'd never felt quite like this before. He *desired* her. There was no mistaking the look in his eye, the way he said her name, and the kisses he was placing on her lips. He was devouring her, swallowing her whole, holding her prisoner underneath him, and she loved every second of it.

When Nick came, it was only seconds behind Sara's climax and as he caught his breath, he heard her pleasured sighs. He snuggled in behind her, and held her captive in his arms. After a few moments, Sara whispered his name.

"Nick?"

"Mmmm," his response was to nuzzle her neck.

"Are you sleepy? Are you about to fall asleep?"

"No," he whispered into her ear, very deliberately.

Sara's forehead wrinkled, "can we talk?"

Nick sighed, wishing that they would postpone this moment, but realizing they couldn't. Except that when Sara opened her mouth, she said the words he was least expecting. "Have you ever thought about pressing charges?"

"No...that girl died about ten years ago," he answered softly. "I think it was a car accident, maybe. Or a break-in."

"Oh, Nick," I'm glad," Sara turned over in his arms, her voice tight.

"Me too," he stared at her in the dull darkness of the room. He could see her brow, furrowed, and the dark shine of her eyes. Her mouth was full and swollen, her neck covered in nips and bruises where he had applied suction.

"Do you want to hear why I chose law enforcement?"

"Yes," Nick murmured, leaning down to kiss her neck. "Will we need more tissues?"

"They're on the table, behind you," Sara's voice was stilted, uncomfortable.

Nick recognized this tone, and pulled her closer.

"I was eighteen, and still living at home with my parents, it was the summer after I graduated from high school, I was leaving for Harvard in the fall. I didn't have a lot of friends in school, but I always hung out with this girl Henna, she lived just a few blocks over from the B & B. Well, it was the summer, so I stayed over at her house really late one night, and had to walk home at about ten. The neighborhood was good, so I didn't really even think about it. I cut across old Mrs. Klinkerman's yard to the street that we lived on, and went around the side of the house because my parent's always made me come in the back door.

"When I had almost gotten to the backyard, I was attacked from behind," Sara's voice lost the musical quality of her memories and wavered with unshed tears. "Stanley Hargraves, he was my next door neighbor. He said he'd seen me walking around all summer in my short shorts and my halter-tops, and he just couldn't take it anymore. He covered my mouth with his hand—he was so big. I kicked and screamed and no one ever heard me. I was raped in my own backyard," fresh tears came spilling from her eyes and Nick was ready with a Kleenex.

"My parents, they…they never knew. I never told them. I went off to school in the fall and didn't tell anyone until I was a junior. Kennedy Fuller, I, I fell in love with her. We were together almost a year before we broke up. Then I met Grissom in my senior year, and the rest is history. I still feel guilty, though. I still feel so guilty that I never told anyone besides Kenn. That guy has a wife now, and kids, and I've never said a word. And now I can't, because maybe he's changed, maybe he got help. I would be breaking up a poor woman's family over something stupid her husband did almost fifteen years ago."

"I wish you had told me," Nick's voice was raw, and Sara reached up to feel his own tears.

"I wish you had told me, too," she replied. She supposed knowing someone else was a victim helped her come to terms with herself. Nick placed his mouth on her wrist. She wrapped her arms around him again, and they began to kiss softly once more. The sensation of her soft, small breasts against his chest made him hard, and this time when he made love to her, he was so gentle, Sara felt more tears sliding down the sides of her cheeks. She held him close as they fell asleep, content for the first time in a long while.

Chapter II – The Arrangement

Sara woke the next morning to find that she was stiff and sore. She was unaccustomed to company in her bed, and even less accustomed to hours of lovemaking. Coupled with the emotional exhaustion that came with crying, Sara found that she was still very tired. She sat at her kitchen table, wrapped in a robe, sipping coffee. Shortly after, Nick came padding into the kitchen in his boxers and t-shirt, with his hair sticking up in every direction.

"Good morning," he leaned down to kiss her and she responded by turning her face and letting his lips land on her cheek. Nick took this in stride and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. Sitting across from her, he sighed heavily when he saw her face. "I guess we should talk."

"What's to talk about? We were upset, and we found comfort with each other. Had we not been drinking, talking about sad times, it probably wouldn't have happened," her neat explanation pissed him off.

"That's a convenient excuse," he said simply, baiting her.

"What do you want me to say, Nick? That I'm madly in love with you? It would be a lie, and you would think less of me for saying it."

"I don't think you have to pretend to be in love with me, but you could do me the honor of finding me attractive and wanting to be with me. You can't lie about that," his smirk was only half-angry.

"Yes, you are very attractive…" Sara began.

"Thanks," Nick drawled, "So 're you."

Sara almost smiled. "And last night was…"

"Incredible?" Nick's eyes were now bright and playful.

"Would you let me finish?"

"By all means," Nick was grinning.

"Well, hell," Sara fussed. "It's just strange."

"Not so strange," Nick leaned forward. "Why does it have to *be* anything? Can we just accept the attraction? We can be friends…and more than friends."

"You want to be fuck-buddies?" Sara squeaked.

"I don't think I would use that term," Nick responded dryly.

"But that's what we're talking about, right?" Sara's eyebrow rose.

"I suppose," Nick responded with a cheeky grin. Sara sat quietly for a moment.

"What if someone else found out?"

"Plausible deniability, we're best friends, we're close." After a pause, he said, "look, Sara, it wouldn't be forever, just for now." His voice, his drawl were pulling her in, convincing her.

"Can I think about it?" her eyes narrowed, and Nick saw the doubt in her gaze.

"Of course. No pressure," he stood, drained his coffee, and put the cup in her dishwasher. He thoughtfully brought the pot over to refill her cup, and then went to wash it out in the sink. He wandered back into her bedroom, and appeared a few minutes later wearing his pants and shoes. He leaned over her kitchen table to grab his keys, and this time, Sara didn't turn her face away. She allowed him to kiss her soundly, and found herself responding eagerly. She was almost disappointed when he broke off to laugh.

"I've got stuff to do today, I've got to go," he stood and then leaned down for another brief kiss. Smiling, he put on his sunglasses and then headed for her door.

"Hey Nick," she called.

"Yeah?" he turned around and lifted his shades so she could see his eyes.

"Do you want to come over after shift tomorrow and watch a movie?"

His smile was brighter than a Vegas sunrise. "I'd love to." He sauntered out, closing her door behind him and shook his head in disbelief as he got into his Tahoe. Things were certainly about to change.

They worked shift with the same playful teasing as always, and Sara was grateful when Grissom took her to the safety deposit vault and gave her some time to contemplate the burgeoning relationship with her best friend. She and Grissom ignored the elephant in the room to concentrate on the case, and even after their shift was over, Grissom didn't say anything to her to indicate their last conversation had even taken place.

Sara went home and slept like the dead, tired and still sore from the night before. She woke up feeling like a new woman. Shortly after, Nick arrived with a bottle of wine and a copy of what he claimed was his favorite movie. Sara raised a doubtful eyebrow at his selection. "The Goonies?"

"I'll bet you haven't seen this movie in fifteen years or more. It'll be fun," he insisted. An hour later, Sara conceded he was right. They were both laughing hysterically, which was only in part due to the movie.

"I forgot how funny this movie was…is," Sara wiped her eyes and allowed Nick to refill her wineglass. They started the movie again and it wasn't long before Sara was giggling again.

Nick's spirits rose at the sound. It wasn't often that he got to hear her happy laughter. As the credits rolled, he reached out to touch her soft hair, and Sara collapsed against Nick's side and drained her wine.

"That was the best time I've had in a while."

"I'm glad," Nick smiled when she picked up the wine bottle and discovered it was empty.

"Damn!" she put the bottle back down and stiffened when she felt Nick's hand circling her hip. She looked over her shoulder and gave him a look that he could only describe as electric.

"Are you going to stay?"

"Do you want me to stay?"

Sara bit her lip, and nodded and stood up, then pulled her shirt up over her head and dropped it on the armchair that was sitting across from the couch. Nick watched her disappear into the dark hallway towards her room, and quickly swallowed the rest of his wine. Down the hall towards her bedroom, he saw that she had dropped her pants, and socks, and her bra was swinging precariously from the doorknob.

Nick shut the bedroom door and realized Sara was in the bathroom brushing her teeth.

"Sara," he whispered. Coming up behind her, he wrapped arms around her waist. "Are you sure about this? I mean, I know last night was sudden. I just want to make sure you're certain."

"I'm not," Sara replied honestly. "I'm not very experienced…" She turned around to face him, thankful he couldn't see her bare body in the dark.

Nick smiled, and cupped his hands around the flesh of her biceps, and pulled her closer. She shivered in the cool air and felt very safe against his naked chest.

"What would make you feel better?"

"Rohypnol?" she joked awkwardly.

Nick released her and took a step back. "Listen, Sara, we don't have to do this. I mean, I was only half-serious." Feeling exposed, she covered her chest and stepped up to him.

"I'm just nervous. I want to," her voice hitched. "I want you." As she stepped forward, he stepped backwards until they reached the bed. Nick was rewarded with a more confident smile and a sultry cry as he leaned down and vigorously sucked her neck. Gently pushing her back onto the bed, he straddled Sara's hips with a knee on either side. Lifting her arms above her head, he pinned her there, and proceeded to kiss and suck her breasts until her chest heaved and rolled with breathless abandon. Traveling lower, he was glad she had shed her clothes on her way to the bedroom. Placing tender kisses on tummy and lower, Sara murmured and sighed at the sensation.

Spreading her legs, Sara was ready when Nick began to make love to her with his mouth. If her earlier experiences hadn't convinced her, she was made a believer in that moment: Nick was an incredible lover. She was almost delirious with ecstasy before he moved back up to her neck and found her mouth with his. Sara rolled him over, ready to take control. Sinking down onto him, they both groaned at the contact. She was ready to give as good as she'd gotten, and it wasn't long before they both reached their foregone conclusion.

Sara collapsed against him, and Nick watched her back heave as she sucked in desperate breaths. He too, almost dismounted her with the movement of his chest.

"I think this is going to work," was her soft whisper.

"Me, too," Nick kissed her forehead, and after a moment, she found his mouth yet again.

"Not to inflate your ego, Nick, given your reputation as a ladies' man, but you sure have an...excellent technique."

"Don't let the gossip fool you," his voice was suddenly serious. "At one time I may have dated a lot, but my...talent is used sparingly these days."

Sara didn't answer. She didn't necessarily believe that, but she knew better than to refute his statement outright. "Who was your last lay?"

"Lay?" Nick rolled his eyes. "Finesse, Sara, finesse. Lover," he corrected.

Sara burst out laughing. "Okay, Nick, I think you know me better than to expect me to seriously use a word like 'lover.'"

"Why not?"

Sara couldn't help but giggle again. The sweet bastard actually sounded hurt.

"Because it's silly," it was her turn to roll her eyes. He gave her a look. "Okay, okay...who was your last lover?"

"Well, not that I really want to talk about this in the bed with another woman, but since you brought it up, Kristy Hopkins."

"That hooker? Nick, that was like, three years ago."

"Well, next time you almost get fired and go to jail over a girl you sleep with, we'll talk about how ready you'll be to jump into the sack with another one," was his defensive reply. Sara smoothed his ruffled feathers by planting a long, sweet kiss onto his mouth.

"You're right, I'm sorry. You're right."

After a few minutes, Nick got quiet and soon Sara heard his breathing even out. She felt too exuberant and restless to sleep, but at the same time, she didn't want to move from her place on top of his body. She couldn't believe she'd entangled herself in an affair with Nick, of all people. Nick was her friend, her confidante, she'd never intended him to be anything more. But yet, they were closer now than they had ever been before.

She could only wonder at how their relationship would be different if they hadn't decided to continue sleeping together. She imagined it would be uncomfortable, and awkward, and it was ironic to her that the very thing that would have made it awkward was what was now making the relationship so blissfully comfortable and smooth. Nick was an excellent lover, and it wasn't as if she didn't need the release. And Nick was right, it wasn't a permanent thing, and they had enough time to work on it so that when they did end it, it would be a smooth, clean break: no hurt feelings, no hard time.

Sara sighed the sigh of a content woman. Nick wasn't hers forever, but she didn't want him to be. They were helping each other through a dry spell. It was simple. Painless.

Chapter III – Closer

"Sara, do you have my cheese sample?"

"Testing vice grips?" she asked from her microscope, distracted.

"Ha ha. What do you have?"

"Warrick and I are working the john roll from the Monaco. It's tricky," Sara grinned comically.

"You're funny tonight, Sidle."

"I'm here all week," she responded, without looking up. He slid in beside her very close.

"Hey, you free tonight?"

"Can't tonight. I have a visitor."

"Oh?"

"She comes once a month."

"Oh. Well, we can hang out," Nick lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I just got the coolest stereo system installed."

Sara finally looked up at him.

"How about Friday? I'll make dinner, you can show me your new toys, and then I'll rock your world."

"I may rock yours first," Nick challenged.

"The fun'll be getting there, Stokes," she went back to her slides.

"You're on, Sidle. Friday at 8 am," he left the lab wondering what kind of people at dinner at 8 am, watched a creature feature at ten, and spent the rest of the day in bed.

"So what're you making?" Nick asked, poking his head in the kitchen.

"Never you mind," Sara answered, her throaty voice more throaty than usual. Nick worried for a second that she was coming down with something, but then he saw the glass of alcohol at her elbow.

"Dippin' in to the cooking sherry?"

"No, I, uh, found your bourbon. Above the refrigerator. Do you ever clean up there?" Sara wrinkled her nose.

"I forgot all about that. My sister Rachel gave me that when I moved to Nevada. I don't like bourbon," he picked up the full bottle and realized it was dusty. "You can have it if you want it."

"Why don't you leave it here for me?" Sara said, before she thought about it. She blushed at the implication. She missed Nick's delighted smile as she opened up the frying pan and stirred the contents. She broke the silence, "what are we going to watch?"

"Nothing romantic," he countered.

"If you're expecting me to be unhappy about that, you're barking up the wrong tree."

"I anticipated that, so I rented Apocalypse Now," he leaned against the counter.

"Ugh, you couldn't come up with something with a little less Martin Sheen?"

"Martin Sheen is great!" Nick contended.

"He reminds me too much of Charlie, who as you know, is a terrible actor," Sara was matter-of-fact.

"Well, I have plenty of movies here, you can pick one," Nick offered. Sara chose that moment to go over to the fridge and begin to rummage around in one of the bottom drawers, giving Nick a very good view of her rear.

"I like Mel Gibson," she said as she swayed from side to side looking for the bok choy she knew she had left in the crisper. Behind her, the blood was rushing to Nick's brain.

"Mel Gibson?"

"Or Kevin Spacey. Do you have anything with Kevin Spacey?"

"Kevin Spacey?" Nick's voice cracked. He was suddenly finding it very difficult to breathe.

Sara didn't notice.

"Yeah. Or Gary Oldman?"

"Gary Oldman?"

"Yeah, Nick, why do you keep repeating everything I, oh!" Nick leaned over against Sara, and her thought processes shorted out. Nick was pressing full against her, his arms against hers, his hands wrapped firmly around her forearms.

"Nick," Sara's soft whisper met his ears as his fingers trailed up her elbows and biceps and began to softly massage her breasts through her shirt. Her nipples perked against the cold air, and he rolled them against his palms, making her whimper with the contact. "Nick, dinner," she managed to say breathlessly.

Nick released her, grinning like a cat that ate the canary. Sara ignored his exuberance and turned around to his stove, which she opened. Bending down, she peeked in.

"Now you're just teasing me," Nick growled, pulling her up once she had closed the oven door. He trapped her against the kitchen cabinet, his right knee wedged between hers. "I love it that you're as tall as I am," Nick buried her face into her neck and nipped her collarbone, one of her favorite things.

Sara panted as his hands once again found her breasts. When Nick's thigh came in contact with her center, she began to moan. She was forced to reach out to hold his arms when she felt his leg pressing into her thighs. Nick very deliberately began to raise his thigh upwards, until she was firmly straddling it. The texture of his denim and her silk pants against her warm body was unbearably good, her fingers tightened around his biceps for support.

Nick's mouth found hers and they began to kiss hungrily, battling for control. Nick used his thigh to undulate very gently beneath Sara, and the friction was driving her wild. She tore away from him breathlessly and lifted his shirt over his head. Reaching down, she unbuttoned his pants as they continued to kiss fervently. Nick's tongue was playing in her mouth and he was becoming more and more responsive. His hands were underneath her shirt, and Sara realized with surprise that he had unsnapped her bra and was fondling her bare breasts.

She thrust against his thigh, trying to stimulate herself, and trying to get his pants unzipped at the same time. A loud ding startled them both. Nick's leg gave way under Sara, and he managed to steady her when she faltered landing on her feet. Sara, very embarrassed, turned around reached under her top to refasten her bra, and Nick watched with amusement as she tried to compose herself. He made no attempt to redress, but instead, watching her remove the hot pan from the oven and turn the knobs on the stove to off. She turned around to see him smirking.

"You could make this less embarrassing for me and put your clothes on!" her eyes flashed angrily.

"Whoa...why are you mad?" Nick's confusion registered.

"You want to see how horny you can make the uptight workaholic?"

"Wait a minute," Nick sobered immediately. "Sara, I would never, never, hurt you," he zipped up his pants and found his shirt.

Sara turned around to her pan and gave it another stir. When she turned around again, she was apologetic. Crossing the small kitchen, she came to stand directly in front of him. "I'm sorry. I just—don't know how to deal with all this..." a deep sigh.

"Passion?" Nick guessed, the warm but loving grin returning.

Sara hid her flushed face in her hands. "Yes. I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this."

Leaning in very close, Nick whispered, "I think you're unbelievably sexy at it."

Sara blushed about twelve shades of red and licking her dry lips, she croaked, "all this stuff can be reheated."

"Race you to the bedroom."

"So what did you say this movie was called again?"

"Donnie Darko. Just watch it."

"Who does it have in it?"

"Mary McDonnell, Drew Barrymore, Patrick Swayze. Just watch."

"The Chinese food is good, huh?"

"I didn't know you could make it this good at home," Nick put a forkful of fried rice in his mouth. He looked over at Sara and winked.

She took a drink of water, eyeing him innocently over the rim of the glass. "I'm not sure I can concentrate on the movie when you're sitting there in just your underwear."

"The feeling is mutual, Sidle."

Chapter IV – The Plot Thickens

"Happy Birthday, chief," Sara's playful voice shook Nick out of his reverie. She crawled across the bed towards him awkwardly, and Nick realized she was wrapped up in his robe, about three sizes too big for her.

"Mmmm, thank you," Nick sat up against the headboard and grabbed the breakfast tray Sara had brought in to him. It only had juice on it, but he supposed it was the thought that counted. He sat it on the bedside table and gathered her up into his arms, sitting her down on his lap sideways. Her feet hung over the side of the bed, and she wrapped her arm around his neck and leaned back to get a good look at him.

"How does it feel to be thirty two?" Sara leaned in to gently nibble on his ear.

"Maybe I should ask you, Miss-about-to-be-thirty-two," he teased.

"Ugh, don't remind me," Sara said, giving one last good suck to his earlobe, and moved to the side of his jaw. "What do you want to do today?"

"You mean, besides stay in bed all day?" Nick grabbed her and rolled her gently on to her back, holding her wrists as she fought against him futilely. She struggled, grinning up at him, but he easily had her pinned to the bed. "Quit fighting, you know you don't want to get away," Nick nipped at her collarbone, and she groaned in response.

"I was thinking we could go out to dinner, maybe a movie," Sara managed to say, despite Nick's attempt to distract her. Nick immediately stopped his ministrations and pulled back. "What, what'd I say? Whatever it was, I take it back," she smiled mischievously.

"Go out, with me?" Nick confirmed.

"Yeah, it's your birthday," Sara gave him a quizzical look. "No one should be dateless on his birthday...or sexless," her hand slipped out of Nick's lax grasp and she reached between their bodies to rub against him tantalizingly. Nick's expression let her know his higher brain functions were shutting down.

An hour later, they were coming back, very slowly. Sara was wrapped up in his sheets, his robe discarded. He regarded her back, so smooth and her muscles so well defined. Her ribs showed when she lay down, she needed to eat more, rest more. Nick didn't try to change her, but her did occasionally try to improve her habits. Watching her breathe, Nick couldn't tell if she was asleep, but if she was, he certainly didn't want to wake her.

Sara was a beautiful woman, full of emotions that sometimes just tore her apart. She reminded him of an exploding apple. Apples were not a juicy fruit, particularly. The meat of the fruit held the juice locked in its core until it was either crushed or sucked out. Sara was always so contained, everything locked inside like the juice inside of an apple. When the apple exploded, meat from the apple would spread, but not the juice. Sara, even at her most emotional, even at her most empathetic, was never completely crushed. Grissom always told them that if they had too much sympathy for the victims, they would eventually burn themselves out. But Grissom was wrong about Sara; she would never burn out. She would just move from case to case to case until the feelings killed her. Nothing would ever stop her, not Grissom, not burnout, and certainly not Nick. The victim in Sara made the connection, and the survivor in Sara held on until the very end.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Exploding apples," Nick answered softly. Sara laughed and reached behind her to draw his hand around her waist. She rubbed his knuckle idly.

"After sex? That's some non sequitur. Should I be offended?"

"No," Nick kissed the spot just below her ear. "No, exactly the opposite." He didn't go any further to explain himself, and Sara didn't ask him to. They lay together for several minutes more, and then traipsed into the shower together, and made love again against the tiled wall.

Sara was back in his terrycloth robe, watching him towel-dry his thick hair when her cell phone rang. She moved to leave the room, but Nick grabbed her wrist.

"Don't answer it," he pleaded, but she dismissed that idea with a shake of her lovely head, and went to go find it.

"Sidle...Oh, hey Grissom...Today?...No I can't today...No, I'm sorry...You can't call in Nick, either, it's his birthday...Grissom, why don't you take Greg? You know he would love to get out of the lab...Fine, call him if you want to, but I can guarantee he won't answer...fine, whatever." Sara hung up without saying goodbye. A few seconds later, they both heard Nick's cell phone start to sing. Then his beeper. Then his home phone. Sara grinned as Nick came out of the bathroom in his towel.

"I almost answered that, just to make a liar out of Sara Sidle," he said as he passed her on the way to his closet. "Get a move on, or we'll never be able to leave."

"Yeah," Sara lifted herself off of the bed and went across the hall to Nick's spare room. Inside the closet, she'd brought over some of her own clothes and in the bathroom was her toothbrush, her hairbrush, and several other necessary items. She pulled out a flowered sundress, a little number that she'd chosen especially for this day. She sat down on the bed and began to brush her hair out straight while it was still wet. She was still in the robe when Nick found her ten minutes later, staring off into space.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?" she looked up at him and realized he was dressed. "I'm sorry. She dropped her robe and slipped into a pair of underwear, and then pulled the sundress over her head. Nick watched with interest. She came over to him, and seeing his stare, sheepishly said "what?"

"You're beautiful," Nick replied, bringing his hand up to her face. He smoothed his fingers over her skin. He noticed a flush rise to her cheeks. "Don't be embarrassed."

"Can't help it," she responded. "Just not used to being..."

"Admired?" Nick's voice was husky.

"Ogled." The word drew a smile from both of them.

"Come on," Nick took her hand. "If we don't go now, we may never."

Thirty minutes later, they were seated across from one another in a hip little restaurant off the Strip. Certainly not somewhere she would go by choice, but it wasn't bad. They ordered quesadillas, hers with mushrooms and spinach and his with chicken. When the food came, Sara was delightfully surprised to find that it was excellent.

"So I think my sister Katie and one of our friends from college are coming down next month. They wanted to make it for my birthday, but they just couldn't manage the time off," Nick mentioned.

"Oh, did Katie go to Rice, too?"

"Yeah. So did Frank and Rachel. Lacy and Jilly both went to Tech. Alyson went to Wellsley, she's a character."

"Wow, I bet that was a strain on your parents finances," Sara mused. "All seven going to college is pretty amazing, though."

"Oh, my parents wouldn't have it any other way. Dad graduated from Rice, so it's sort of a family tradition. Lacy went to Tech and Jilly followed because they're joined at the hip," Nick gave her a 'what-can-you-do?' shrug.

"So this friend, from college...male or female?"

"Curious...or jealous?" Nick dished it back.

"Just wondering if I'm going to meet a Nick Stokes castoff," Sara's grin was wry.

Nick let out a hearty guffaw. "Hardly. Katie and Callie are...how would I say it? Involved?" His eyes twinkled.

"Oh," Sara blushed, embarrassed.

"Katie waited for a couple of years to go to school, so she was only a year ahead of me. We used to hang out with Callie and this guy Darren, a couple of others. Katie and I were really close."

"Oh."

"I mean, we still are. But when we were in college—inseparable. Callie and Katie didn't really start seeing each other until after we had all graduated. They've been talking about getting married in the spring."

"What does Katie do?" Sara took a big bite out of her cheese-filled tortilla.

"She's an investment banker, she's pretty good at it, I guess. I never really did that well in Math. Callie runs a daycare, her parents were pretty wealthy, so they hooked her up on the capital for the place. She paid them back a couple of years back, and then told them about Katie, and now they won't even speak to her."

"Wow. That sucks," Sara shrugged. "I never told my parents. About Kennedy," she clarified. "They wouldn't have disowned me, but they wouldn't have understood."

"It's funny, that. You never now what your parents will do. I thought for sure that my parents would be pissed to Rome and back about Katie. And turns out, they were angry that she didn't tell them sooner," he shook his head with a smile.

"What else was college like for you? I know you were in a fraternity."

"Ahh, just brushing off the cobwebs of high school."

"I know, Warrick told me you were, what did he say? Dependable?"

"That was me," Nick laughed. "Not unpopular. Mostly in with the smart kids. I did speech and debate through UIL. I loved it, and I loved being the class-elected speaker at our graduation. But college was my niche. I went to class and made good grades, but mostly we partied."

"I was about half and half. I took classes in the summer, mini-sessions in between semesters, I was totally absorbed. But we also went to parties, I tried to date around. I was really bad at it," Sara confessed.

"I was, too."

"You were not! You already told me, you were a ladies man in college, and in a fraternity, as well. Don't try to lie to me, Stokes."

"I may have gotten women into bed, that doesn't mean I was any good at dating them," Nick answered sardonically.

"Huh," Sara sat back in the booth and regarded him with a careful eye. "And after college?"

"After college, I got a little smoother. Never found anyone I was really crazy about," Nick answered.

"Are you telling me you've never been in love?"

Nick's stomach and lungs clenched at the words. He looked at Sara, who was watching him as if he'd told her he'd never tasted chocolate before. How could he answer her honestly?

"Not yet," his reply was quiet.

"Huh," she said again.

When the waiter brought their check, Sara snatched it before he could even look at it.

"Sara."

"No, no one pays for their dinner on their own birthday," she responded as she rooted around for her credit card. She handed the bill over and sat back. Nick relaxed and watched her look around the crowded bar area. The dinner rush was starting, and suddenly, Nick couldn't wait to get out of there. They drove along the Strip until they came to the movie theater, and both were ashamed when they hadn't heard of any of the new ones. They left without buying tickets.

"Let's go to the classic movie house," Nick suggested, and Sara reached out for his hand. When they got there, they found Dr. Zhivago had just started, and they proceeded to sneak in and find seats in the back. Sara had never seen the movie, and when they got to the scene where Rod Steiger raped Lara, Sara's grip on Nick's hand tightened to vise-like intensity

"I'm sorry," his eyes as they turned to her were horror-filled. "I forgot all about this part."

Sara gave him a tight smile, "I'm okay. It's a classic, right?"

Nick felt guilty for the rest of the film, and when they walked back out on to the street, Sara took his hand again loosely in her own.

"Don't feel bad," she reassured, leaning in to him and kissing his cheek.

"Sara! Nick!"

At the sound of their names, they immediately stepped apart and dropped one another's hand. Looking around through the throng of people also exiting the theater, they saw Brass and Grissom across the street.

"Hey," Greg jogged up to them. "What's up, you guys? Did you just get out of the movie?"

"Yeah," Sara answered, embarrassed. Had anyone seen them holding hands? Grissom was now looking over, and Brass was turned also.

"Ahh, Dr. Zhivago, or Victor/Victoria?"

"Dr. Z," Nick reached out his hand and shook with Greg. "They got you in the field, tonight, Greggo?"

"Yeah, Grissom let me come along. Girl in an alley, maybe a working girl. Don't really know yet, we actually just got here about twenty minutes ago. Grissom claimed he needed my help, but now he won't let me touch anything."

"Sounds like Gris," Sara laughed. Grissom was still staring at her. The crowd had thinned to the three of them, and she refused to meet his eye.

"Listen, Greg, we are meeting a guy for drinks here in a few, if we don't leave, we're going to be late," Nick put his hand at the small of Sara's back, and she waved at Greg before beginning to walk away.

"See you at work tomorrow, guys," Greg said as they left. He jogged back over to Grissom. "I think those guys were on a date, or something."

"A date?" Grissom clarified, unnecessarily.

"Yeah, they used to end on your parents porch, kissing in the dark. Now they end in the sack. And the unlucky ones end up in an alley," Brass quipped as they turned back towards the body of the young girl that they were processing.

"That was close," Sara's eyes were wide as they slid into the truck.

"Too close?" Nick asked, his throat dry.

"Nooooo," Sara let out a long breath as she turned to look back towards the street. "We just have to be more cautious...Are we really meeting someone for drinks?" she asked, as if the previous conversation hadn't taken place.

"No," Nick smiled.

"More acrobatic sex?" she smoothed down the collar of his shirt.

"If you're lucky."

Chapter V – The Danger of Casual Conversation

Nick strutted into the CSI lab singing "Ain't that a Kick in the Head." It was one of his favorite songs, and the female lab techs practically fainted at his feet when he came in singing. He usually just laughed it off, but it boosted the old self-esteem to know that women still found him as desirable as he found them. One woman in particular. A brunette, dark eyed, ruby-mouthed slip of a woman that gave him more lip than an intoxicated suspect. The affair with Sara was a mystery, if nothing else. A puzzle, a conundrum. It was also something to mull over, and savor, like a flavorful meal or a fine wine.

He had, in part, lied to Sara. His tragedy was not the only reason he wanted to be a CSI. Like Sara, he met Grissom at a young age and had been captivated by the man. Grissom was a genius, there was no denying it, and like a genius, his relationships with other people tended to be lacking. His intelligence astounded Nick, made him want to know more, be more. In part, Grissom filled the void his own father had left. And even now, he trusted Grissom implicitly, even when he didn't like the answer he was given.

Nick picked up the few messages he had from the secretary, and continued down the hall towards the break room, whistling the same tune. As he leafed through them, he felt eyes on his body, and looked over to the glass walls of the lab. Sara was sitting on a stool, staring out at him as if she hadn't really seen him. He waved at her, breaking her out of her trance, and flashed her a thousand-watt smile. She blushed, gave a small wave back, and turned back to what she had been working on. Nick smiled, and went to find Warrick.

Sara blushed when she saw Nick waving at her, and she knew she'd been staring. Nick looked great, he was wearing blue jeans—her personal favorite, his shirt didn't hide the muscle, and she imagined she could almost smell his aftershave. Nick never wore cologne—a lesson from Grissom—it interfered with the job. But his aftershave, that was a delight, musky and warm, and comforting. She was embarrassed to think that she could lie in his arms for hours, smelling his aftershave, and probably be as happy as a clam.

She put up her paperwork and left the lab, keeping an eye out for Greg, but not finding him. As she entered the break room, Nick paused, pouring his coffee, and without hesitation pulled a cup for her out of the cupboard and filled it also. He walked up to hand her the cup and rubbed his finger across the back of her hand. She knew they were standing too close, but she didn't want to break away.

"Hey," his voice sounded husky to her, but anyone else wouldn't have been able to discern it.

"Hey," she was coming up with some intelligent conversation these days.

"I left my wallet at your place," he murmured, using his free hand to push her hair back over her ear.

"I know, I saw it this morning, and then I forgot to bring it. Did you leave it just so you could have an excuse to come back for it?" she grinned.

"Did you leave it so I could?" he volleyed back.

"Yes," she answered baldly.

"Me, too," he replied with a smirk.

"Well, now that I'm your bedmate, I suppose you don't have to have an excuse to come over," Sara's voice was deliberately quiet.

"I prefer the term inamorata," Nick's voice was soft and dangerous.

"What's going on in here?" Grissom's voice pierced through the air like an arrow, separating the two lovers instantly. They both took an enormous step backwards.

"Grissom! We, uh, we were just talking about the migratory patterns of the…African Tiger Heron," Sara babbled.

"They don't migrate. And they're extinct," Grissom answered, not amused.

"So Sara was just telling me," Nick broke in. Grissom shot him a look that advised Nick that he wasn't buying it. Grissom rolled his eyes rather than play a part in their charade.

"Sara, you're with me," he said, possessively. "Nick, you have a robbery at the Palace," Grissom handed him a slip and left the room. Sara shot a wide-eyed look at Nick.

"We have GOT to be more careful," she hissed.

"Agreed," Nick was pissed off, and he didn't particularly want to fight with Sara. He drained his coffee and left, leaving her to watch him stalk out. Sara sat down, feeling confused and so...wanted...at the same time. Nick called her his inamorata...Grissom was jealous that she and Nick had been standing so close...as if she didn't have enough to think about.

Catching up with Grissom, she found their case was a dead body in the desert, and she was forced to put her personal thoughts on hold as they worked the case. Grissom allowed her to call the scene, and seemed very pleased that she had come to the same conclusion as he had. Catherine solved the case in the course of the next three hours when the boyfriend confessed during the initial interview. They had wrapped up the loose ends and were back in the lab before lunch. Sara was sorry Warrick wasn't there, she wanted to show him the footprints from the scene, as their killer was missing a toe. She also wanted to find Catherine and double check with her about the blood spatter on another victim's body. But most of all, she wanted to see Nick, and she tried to convince herself it was because she needed his signature for some file reports on a case they had worked together, but the truth was, she wanted to see his face.

He came in a few minutes later, and sat down at the desk across from hers. His easy smile and demeanor were back, and she was glad he hadn't taken the argument earlier with Grissom too seriously. They talked over his case, and Nick had Sara and Warrick simulate the events of the robbery. Satisfied, he pored over his notes until Sara came in to let him know shift was over. She stood at the door until he came over to join her.

"Are you going to let me out?" he teased.

"Are you going to come over later?" she asked quietly.

"No...I have to wait for a call at home," he sighed.

"Oh," Sara looked crestfallen until he spoke again.

"Why don't you come over to my place?"

She nodded and left the doorway. Nick went into the locker room and then came out with his bag. Grissom watched these events from the doorway to his office and said nothing.

Sara rose her hand to knock, and heard Nick's "come in" from within. She let herself in, and dropped her bright red bag on the floor next to the cheerful rag rug that was on the floor just inside the door. It was new—they had shopped for it together. She entered the living room, where she found him on the phone.

"Yes, I understand," he said. He gestured for her to come to him. Sara kicked off her shoes as she listened to his end of the conversation.

"No, I will not. Yes, ma'am. One hundred? Per month? Understood. Thank you, ma'am." Sara found her way to Nick's couch and put her head in his lap. He stroked her hair once, twice, then no more. He continued the conversation, and Sara closed her eyes, listening to the ebb and flow of his voice like a boat rocking on the waves.

When he hung up, Sara rose from her place and began to kiss him madly.

"Hey, hey," Nick asked, surprised by her ardor. Her dark eyes shone brightly.

"I've been waiting all day to get you alone," she confessed. She leaned in to kiss him again, and this time, he responded. Feeding off of each other, each desperately craving the other, they kissed for a long while. Nick gently eased her down onto his sofa, placing himself atop her, but trying not to smother her. She was holding him close, sucking his tongue sensuously with her own when a sharp knock came from the general vicinity of the door.

"Damn," Sara sat up as Nick stood and went to the door. She flattened her hair down with her palms and was grateful when Nick turned around to make sure she was ready before opening the door.

"Hey, bro," Nick's tone let her know that it was Warrick at the door, and Sara looked down quickly to make sure all of the buttons of her shirt were buttoned.

"Hey, man," Warrick answered. When he walked into the living room, Sara was irritated to see his surprise. "Sara."

"Warrick," her cool answer left him with a raised eyebrow, but he said nothing.

"Are we going to watch the game, man?" Warrick asked, going over to Nick's TV. Sara looked at Nick and saw him cringing. He mouthed, "I'm sorry," to her and said aloud, "Shit, I almost forgot all about that."

"I just stopped by to return that CD, but I think I'll skip the game. See you guys later?" Sara picked up her bag and Nick walked her to the door. "Call me."

Nick just grinned at her as she loped down his front walk.

Chapter VI – Key Moments

"I have a confession to make," Nick whispered. They were alone in the locker room, but since Grissom had practically been on top of them the last time they were in close conversation, they weren't taking any chances.

"Shoot," Sara removed her shoes from her locker and sat down on the bench to begin taking off her work boots.

"I told my sister about us."

Sara's head shot up from her task. "Nick! About us? The us we weren't going to tell anyone about?"

Nick squirmed. "I know we weren't, but she's my sister. We're close. And who is she going to tell, anyway?"

"No one, I guess. But a promise is a promise."

"Point taken. But that's not all."

"If you tell me that your sister is your brother and you're your own grandpa, I'm leaving."

"She's coming in to town this weekend, and she wants to meet you."

Sara pulled off her boot and sniffed it. "That's random. Why would she want to meet her brother's booty call?"

Nick cringed. "I told her you were my girlfriend."

"Nick!"

"She was bugging me about not having a woman in my life, and I told her I did, kind of, and pretty soon we were just talking about you."

"But you told her I was your girlfriend?"

"Would you want to tell your sister you were sleeping with a girl who wasn't your girlfriend?"

Sara rolled her eyes, "Hardly the point. You could have told her we were just friends."

"Sorry. I'm not good under pressure," Nick conceded, leaning in closer. He watched as Sara put on her right shoe. "So I know we were going out this weekend, so I just figured they could tag along."

"This weekend?" Sara asked, quizzically.

"Yeah, this weekend, your birthday," he was rocking back and forth like a hyperactive child, and Sara suddenly realized what he meant by "under pressure."

"Damn it!" Sara cursed loudly. "I forgot this weekend."

"You didn't make other plans, did you?"

"No, but...it just sort of snuck up on me."

"Well, I'm sorry. I didn't want to ruin the surprise, but I made reservations for eight at the restaurant in the Mediterranean. But, now that my sister is coming, we can go somewhere else, somewhere less..."

"Romantic?" Sara supplied dryly.

"Private," Nick rebutted defensively.

Sara let out a sigh. "Yeah, yeah. That's fine. I was thinking it would just be the two of us, but a party is fine. You want to ask Warrick and Catherine?"

"Yeah, we can. They probably won't have the night off, but we can ask them to swing by. And I place ten bucks, right here, right now, that Grissom calls one of us to come in."

"I know, I can't believe he didn't refuse your request."

"It's probably still sitting on his desk somewhere, he probably never even read it. Memo format, more sneaky."

"Grissom reads his requests personally, but not his memos. Very slick," Sara laced up her shoes and locked up her boots.

"I'll cancel the reservation then, and you just plan to be at my house around five, okay?"

"When is your sister's flight?"

"Three. I was hoping that would give us enough time to settle in, freshen up before you meet them."

Sara pondered this for a moment. "Don't forget to take all of my clothes out of the guest room closet. And the stuff in the bathroom."

"I won't," Nick stood and reached a hand to help Sara up.

They left the locker room together and signed out together. In the parking lot, they met at Sara's Tahoe since it was closer.

"My place or yours?" she asked.

"Yours. Yesterday was laundry day, right?"

"You're going to make me have to wash my sheets again," Sara whined.

"At least they're clean," Nick grinned, winked, then put on his sunglasses. "I have an errand to run. I'll be there in about a half an hour."

"Okay, see you then." Nick jogged to his own truck and got in. He was halfway out of the parking lot before Grissom moved again. He'd been standing in the early morning shadows, walking in from his assigned parking space on the side of the building. He'd only stopped to clean his glasses; it wasn't as if he were eavesdropping. He bit his cheek in frustration and went inside the building.

"Here," Nick handed Sara a key. "It's a key to my place."

"And I need one why?" Sara asked, distracted. She was sitting sideways in her armchair with her nose buried in a periodical. Nick walked back into her kitchen.

"What kind of girlfriend doesn't have a key?" Nick said casually, digging through the fridge for a bottle of water.

"Good thinking," her response and her tone let Nick know she was still engrossed in her magazine.

"I think you'll like my sister," Nick called out as he searched for a glass. "She's like me, only prettier."

"Mmmm Hmm," Sara answered, not listening. Nick came into the living room.

"What are you reading?"

"Journal of Forensic Science. Grissom is mentioned in this article."

"Entomology?"

"Ornithology," she responded. "What doesn't he know?" she flipped a page with a wet finger.

"And I believe it was you who decided to tell him we were discussing the migratory pattern of an extinct bird."

"There was a picture of one in my college biology textbook. I just memorized the name," she gestured towards the bookshelves. "It's probably still over there."

"So, what else is so fascinating?"

"Dental molds," she murmured. Nick came over and slid his hands underneath her bottom and almost effortlessly lifted her out of her chair. "Hey!" He spun around and sat down in the chair and lowered her onto his lap. "What's the big idea?"

"I decided I wanted to sit here," he said simply.

"I'm never going to be able to read sitting in your lap," Sara complained.

"And that's the big idea," Nick teased, running a hand down her smooth, bare leg.

Chapter VII – Another Birthday

"Sara?" A beautiful blond girl emerged from the hallway that led back to the bedrooms.

"Callie?" Sara guessed.

"Yeah," Callie looked surprised, but smiled and extended a hand.

"Nick said his sister looked like him," Sara shrugged by way of explanation.

Callie cocked her head thoughtfully. "I guess they do. I don't guess I've ever noticed."

Just then, the subjects of their conversation stepped through the doorway, and Sara realized "I guess they do" was an amazing understatement. The man and woman standing before her could have been twins. Katie Stokes looked like she had stepped off of the pages of a magazine. Her silk blouse and black skirt were very chic, and the pearls at her throat and dangling from her ears let Sara know Nick's sister was high class. Her nails were manicured, but not excessive, and her mahogany hair was perfectly coifed. Her legs were long and slender, her body obviously was one that she took pride in. It was the kind of woman that screamed "snobby bitch."

"You must be Sara," Katie beamed, and came over to throw her arms around Sara. Sara was caught off guard, but returned the hug. "I'm sorry, don't mind me, I'm a terrible Southern flirt. Katie Marie Stokes," she held out a warm hand. Her Southern drawl was thick and charming.

Sara shook it, and laughed. "I don't know that I've ever been hugged first, and had my hand shook afterwards."

Katie and Callie laughed, and Callie rolled her eyes at Nick behind Katie. Callie, unlike her girlfriend, looked very down to earth. Her black slacks and French blue button down were hip, but not pretentious. She wore sensible flats, and boxy, black-framed glasses. They just seemed to fit. Her blond hair was bobbed short and her fingernails were cut down to the quick. Katie and Callie looked like they wouldn't even travel in the same social circles, much less be lovers.

"And this is my girl, Callie Moonfeather Roberts," Katie's eyes twinkled with the same mischief Sara often saw in Nick.

"My parents were hippies," Callie shrugged helplessly.

"Mine, too. Middle name: Christmas."

"You're kidding!" Nick laughed heartily. "I never knew that!"

"That's nothing. Callie: short for California. And my sister's name is Marigold," Callie volleyed back.

"Cousin named Sun Shine, and a grade school friend named Henna," Sara offered as if it were barter.

"Dog named Rainbow," Callie shot back, and realized she'd come up short. Katie and Nick watched this exchange with bemusement. Nick cleared his throat. Callie and Sara looked over at them, and Sara was quick to explain.

"Love children," she shrugged, and Callie nodded in agreement.

"Well, love children, are we going to go party, or what?" Nick glanced at his watch.

"Oh, yeah," Sara picked up her bag off the couch and ducked into the hallway. "Let me use the bathroom first." She was washing her hands when Nick slipped in behind her.

"They love you," Nick whispered in her ear, and kissed the exposed part of her neck. "It must be that perfume. You smell great."

"I think I'm underdressed," Sara looked down at the black slacks and blousy top.

"Don't be silly. Katie loves to dress up, but she doesn't give a lick about anyone else."

Sara smiled when she realized Nick's voice had slipped into a soft drawl to match his sister's. She left the bathroom and closed the door on him. Coming down the hall, she saw Callie and Katie kissing passionately in the living room. She hated to break it up, but she knew if Nick walked in on it, he'd be embarrassed to high heaven. Sara ducked into the kitchen and cleared her throat loudly. By the time she got to the living room, the girls had separated and were wiping lipstick off of their faces discreetly.

"Ready?" Nick came up behind her and put a possessive hand on Sara's hip, which only Katie noticed. All three girls grinned at one another as they left.

They were crammed in a circular booth in a bar at the Sphere, with Warrick and Catherine on the ends. They'd managed to break away for lunch to meet the group out for a drink. Katie, in all of her Southern charm, was holding court, already buzzing on apple martinis and blushing like a woman being fondled under the table. She was telling her favorite story about Nick's first trip to go snipe hunting.

"Frank must have been about twenty five, and poor Nick was still a boy, what Nicky, were you twelve?"

"Barely," Nick defended.

"So Frank and all the cousins decided they needed to take Nick snipe hunting out in the woods behind the old cabin. Well, as you know, there isn't no such thing as a snipe. So they take him out there, they tell him snipes are everywhere, but they're hard to catch, and you can't shoot them, because they have such beautiful fur. You have to catch them in a burlap sack. It's springtime, it's cold, and Nick's in a pair of Frank's old coveralls that are about four sizes too big. Frank and them leave him in this clearing, just crying like a baby, when Nick sees bright yellow eyes through the brush."

Sara gasped, worried that Nick was about to meet his match. The waitress came back with fresh drinks for everyone, and they all leaned in to hear the rest of Katie's tale.

"Nick crept closer and closer and pulls out his sack," Katie leaned forward, for dramatic effect. "Suddenly, he pounces on this poor creature and has just enough sense to close his eyes. He gets the poor thing in a sack and carries in through the woods just devil may care, all the way back to Frank and the boys sittin' around a deer stand drinking beer. Well, by this point Nick reeks, and when he opens that bag, Frank realized he'd caught himself a skunk!"

The whole table exploded in laughter. Nick was bright red, and Sara squeezed his hand affectionately under the table.

"Hey, hey, those guys were the real idiots. They had to ride all the way back home with me," he cut in, which made his friends laugh harder.

"I'll never forget that night. Daddy had to burn those coveralls out back in a barrel, and Mother made Nick take about a dozen showers. And he still smelled for a week."

'Hey, you weren't the one who was forced to sleep out in a tent in the backyard," Nick jumped in again. "That story wouldn't be so damn funny if it had been her," he groused.

The group laughed again Katie said, "I can't believe he didn't tell you this story, Sara."

"Nothing stays a secret in the lab for too long," Catherine warned. "We don't share personal stories, especially not the embarrassing ones."

"Yeah, but..."

Nick cut Katie off abruptly. "Cath, Warrick, what time is your lunch over?"

Warrick groaned as he got up from the table. "As much as I wish we could stay, we do need to get back to the lab here in a minute."

Catherine finished her soda water and stood. She shook Katie and Callie's hands, and announced a trip to the ladies room. The rest of the table easily fell back into conversation.

"Well, you've done it again, Katie, outshined me in front of all my friends," Nick admonished playfully.

"Oh, Nick, you're just upset because I never tell the one where you saved the puppy, or gave CPR to that boy that fell in our pool." Despite the teasing, Katie didn't miss the look of fascination that Sara was shooting Nick.

"You could tell all the stories were someone made an ass out of you. Remember the time Aly froze your training bra? Or the time we were at camp and your bunkmate tried the ol' feather and shaving-cream-in-the-hand trick?"

"Oh, how could I forget?" Katie groaned.

"Hey, there's Greggo," Nick said, catching sight of their friend over the walls of the booth. "He looks like he's already had a drink. I hope he doesn't try to go back to work, Grissom would nail his ass to the wall."

"Greg!" Warrick called, waving him over.

"Well, if it isn't the practically siblings club, yours truly, excluded," Greg announced, squeezing in next to Sara. Warrick, Nick and Sara grinned at each other. It was true they were close, they often neglected that other people noticed.

"Night off, Greg?" Nick asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"All the better to woo the ladies," Greg shot a coy look at Sara, who rolled her eyes.

"You're not wooing anyone else, pal, you smell like the back room of a bar," Warrick noted. Catherine came back to the table and Greg waggled his eyebrows.

"Well, there's always Cat-Woman."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, Greg," Catherine announced, to the amusement of the rest of the table. Warrick picked Greg up by his collar, and guided Catherine out with a hand at the small of her back. The table watched this with interest.

"I don't know how the guy does it," Nick mused. "He is suave as hell."

"Practice?" Sara guessed. They all turned back to the table at the same time. They were all imaging Warrick in front of the mirror at home, practicing to be cool. "Well, Katie, very glad to have met you. I might never have known some of Nick's dark secrets."

"Oh, you would eventually get them out of him. He can't stay quiet for long," Katie gave her brother a playful tickle.

"Yes, well," Sara blushed. She was grateful when the waitress came back to see if they needed anything. She ordered another drink and settled in. Playing the loving girlfriend wasn't as hard as she thought it would be.

"To Sara," Katie raised her martini glass. "Happy Birthday."

"Happy Birthday," Callie echoed. Nick didn't repeat the sentiment, but his eyes told her everything.

"So…" Katie said, once she and Nick were alone. "The practically siblings club?"

"Ahh, yeah," Nick ducked his head, embarrassed. I mean, we're all really close, me and Warrick, Warrick and Sara, and uh, you know, Sanders has had a crush on Sara for years."

"Give it up, Nick," Katie answered, no-nonsense. "You have a girlfriend that no one seems to know about but you." A horrified look crossed her face. "Nick, you didn't have that girl pretend to be your girlfriend on my account, did you?"

"No!"

"I mean, I know I was riding you pretty hard about not having one, but you didn't have to make one up." She gasped loudly. "Are you trying to hide? Are you...in the closet?" she whispered, leaning in close.

"No!"

"Oh," she sat up straight. "Then what is it?"

"Sara's not my girlfriend. She's my best friend. And my...uh, my..."

"Fuck buddy?"

"Is no one a romantic anymore?" Nick asked, exasperated. "She's my inamorata."

Katie burst out laughing, and Callie hollered through the bathroom door, "what's so funny?" Katie continued to giggle hysterically until Callie opened the door and looked out at her, bemused. Callie had the toothbrush stuck in her cheek, and billows of steam poured out into the room.

"What? What?" Callie looked at Nick, but he shrugged.

"Nick thinks..." Katie attempted to speak, but her laughter spilled over until neither one could understand her. "Nick thinks that girl..." she continued to giggle, making further conversation impossible.

"Katie," Nick rolled his eyes. She giggled a few more times and finally stopped, with a hiccup.

"That girl," she finally told Callie, "is a friend with benefits. And Nicky's going around calling her his..." another hoot of laughter, "his inamorata." This set off a fresh round of guffaws and Katie had to hide her face into a pillow in order to gain her composure. Callie looked at her as if she were crazy, then turned to Nick, who rolled his eyes again.

"Your inamorata?" Callie turned back to the sink to spit and put up her toothbrush.

"Well," he shrugged again. "I love her. I'm trying to tell her. She's just," he paused, "in love with someone else."

Katie's laughter died immediately. She sat up on the bed, shamefaced. "Nick, I'm sorry." Callie came and sat down on the other side of him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. Katie wrapped her arm around his back and nuzzled into his chest from the other side.

"You know, I know plenty of men who would love to be on a bed with two women. Instead, my fuck buddy is in the next room and I'm being fondled by my sister and her girlfriend."

"Fiancee," Callie automatically corrected. She cringed when Nick pulled back to look at her, then at his sister.

"Katie?"

"It was Sara's birthday, I didn't want to steal her thunder," Katie threw her hands up in the air in defeat. Nick turned back to Callie and gave her a bear hug, then turned to his sister and did the same.

"Congratulations. Congrats, both of you."

"Thank you," Callie's fair skin flushed and she mouthed an "I'm sorry" at her bride-to-be.

"Alright, well, since you two are ready for bed, I'm going to say goodnight. Katie, try not to laugh yourself crazy," Nick knuckled her head and stood up to leave. As he closed the door behind him, Katie sighed and Callie commiserated.

Chapter VIII – The Date

Nick leaned over into the trunk of the car they were processing and called out, "hey, I think I found something."

Sara came sidling over and bent down, leaning over onto Nick's shoulder, trying to see what he was scraping off into a bindle. Her soft breasts were pressed against his back, and he found himself growing very hard.

"Sara, please," Nick's hands stopped.

"Sara, please what?" she asked, shining her flashlight into the trunk. They were alone in the garage, but besides that, he had called her over.

"Sara, you're practically on top of me," Nick said quietly. "And I'm going to need about five minutes to...calm down before I'm going to be able to turn around."

"Oh," Sara realized what he was talking about and took a step backwards.

"You will never know what that jumpsuit does to me," Nick let out a long breath, and tried to concentrate on the blood evidence.

"This?" Sara asked incredulously, pulling the blue fabric away from her body to study it intently. "Nick, this is like the most sexless thing I've ever worn," she shook her head in her patent manner.

"Yeah, but I know what's underneath," he answered, under his breath. Sara still heard and gasped silently. Nick took a deep breath. "You can come back over now."

Sara was careful to situate herself about a foot from him. "What have you got?" her voice was still slightly breathless.

Nick looked over at her in surprise. "It's not all that strange, Sara...you have an incredible body," his voice was silky and soft.

"Okay," she squeaked. "I've just never had anyone tell me they thought so."

"I would show you, but we have rules," Nick grinned.

"I can see the departmental newsletter now, 'Stokes and Sidle caught humping in the CSI garage, Grissom most impressed.'"

"Oh, come on," Nick rolled his eyes. "There would at least be something in the headline about my stamina."

Sara burst out laughing and had to bend over, hands on knees to catch her breath. The crown of her head touched Nick's hip, and he reached over to affectionately tousle her hair before leaning back into the trunk for the rest of his sample.

Grissom watched this display from the door to the garage and then walked away.

"Sara, can I speak with you?" Grissom's voice called her back as she passed by the door to his dimly lit office.

"Yeah," she came to stand in his doorway, against the doorframe, but he ushered her in and had her sit in one of the chairs across from his desk.

"Is something going on between you and Nick?"

"Nick?" Sara's voice sounded too high to her own ears, even. "No. I mean, we're friends, but...not anything else. I mean, we're not dating. Why?" her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She was very surprised when Grissom spoke again.

"Well, I've given it a lot of thought. If it's not too late, I'd like to accept your offer of dinner," Grissom took off his glasses and Sara could see how nervous he was.

"I'd love that," her smile of pleasure erased his doubts about the timeliness of the move.

"How about tonight?" he checked his watch unnecessarily. "Like around seven?"

"Can't tonight, I already have plans. I have tomorrow, off, though."

"Tomorrow at seven?" Grissom wrote it down, but in truth, he didn't need to.

"Sure, I'll even pick you up," Sara grinned and stood up. "Is that all, boss?" Her cheeky grin made him want to return it. Instead, he tried to look solemn as he said,

"Discretion is the better part of valor."

"Fortune favors the brave," she replied, winking. She shut his office door and left him to ponder that out.

"No kidding? Grissom finally asked you out on a date?" Nick asked, before putting an enormous forkful of lasagna in his mouth.

"More like accepted the date I had already offered," Sara replied, motioning for the waiter to come and refresh their drinks. She yawned hugely, to her own surprise.

"Well, that's great, Sara," Nick tried to look happy for her, but just fell short.

"Hey, nothing's happened yet. We don't have to end our...arrangement. It took almost four months for Grissom to accept a date. How long do you think it will actually be before we get serious? Could be years," Sara laughed. But the joy was muted.

Because, deep down, Sara felt weary—ground down to bone and not much else. The fling with Nick had started out as just that—a fling. They slept together, sure, but they also worked together and spent time with the gang, and spent plenty of time alone. Somehow, in three short months, a full-fledged, take-no-prisoners, balls-to-the-wall affair had erupted. No time for the gang, working separate cases almost uniformly, and therefore taking every opportunity to be alone—together—to talk and hang around, kiss and whisper, and make love in every room of their domiciles, respectively. She was still only sleeping 4-6 hours per night, now she just had so much more to exhaust her. Or as Nick would say, tucker her out.

Sara cringed inwardly. Since when did she start thinking of what Nick would say? And in such colloquial terms? She needed sleep, blissful sleep. Her beeper went off on her hip. Grissom. She sighed as she picked up her cell phone, and shot an apologetic look at Nick. She guessed she'd sleep when she was dead.

After determining that he only had a question, and didn't actually need her to come in, Sara sighed with relief and picked up her fork again. She was surprised to find that Nick was watching her.

"You look tired," he murmured, reaching out to push an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

"I am tired," she muttered.

"Well, I better let you go home tonight, sleep, so you can get gussied up for Grissom tomorrow," Nick didn't meet her eyes, but instead, dug his fork back into the steaming pasta. Sara couldn't even come up with the energy to argue.

Chapter IX – Caught In the Act

Nick opened his door to let Sara inside. "Hey, babe," his words were lost on the maelstrom that stood at his door. The female standing on his doorstep looked like a wet dream. Her black silk cocktail dress hit her mid-thigh, and her sheer black hose and three-inch heels encased the prettiest legs in Nevada. But Sara herself was a nervous wreck, furious, stopping short of actual tears, and very, very tense.

"Hey," her angry reply was not directed at him. Nick escorted her in and shut the door behind her, and turning, he found she was already in the living room, pacing.

"Nick, what does Lady Heather have that I don't?"

"Whips and chains?" he guessed.

This reply seemed to make Sara even more perturbed. "Exactly! She's a tramp! She's a suspect, and a tramp, and grrrrr!" Sara stamped her foot and then dropped onto the couch unceremoniously.

"Let me take a wild guess. Grissom." Nick sat down in a leather armchair across from the couch.

"Yes, Grissom. He asked me out the other night, and you and I already made plans, so tonight was going to be the big night. So when I show up tonight at his house to pick him up, Lady Heather was there, making herself comfortable."

"And?"

"And I left. Since she was sitting right there, watching me, I told Grissom I'd forgotten to drop off some papers and I left. Drove over here."

Nick let out a long sigh. He hated to see Sara twisted up into knots like this.

"Do you think she's pretty?"

Nick looked at her, unsure if he should answer such a loaded question. "I'm not going to insult your intelligence by implying that she's not. Lady Heather is a lovely woman, Sara, she's classically beautiful, and I know you don't want to hear it, but that's Grissom's type, to a T. But her profession…well, we'll just say it detracts. I wouldn't want to know my girl spent her days chasing and fooling around with other men."

"I'm just pissed. He knew, knew, I was coming over. He wrote it down. Either he's just doing it to fuck with me..."

"Maybe she came over unannounced," Nick suggested, cutting her off from the inevitable tirade.

"That's the thing. Brass told me that she's very formal and precise. I doubt she would have shown up on the fly."

"Maybe she just stayed too long."

"Different word, same sound."

Nick contemplated this for a moment, then stood up. He walked over to his stereo and rifled through several CD's until he found the one he wanted and put it in. As the music began to play, Sara looked up in surprise.

"Is this Etta James?"

"Roberta Flack. C'mere," he beckoned to her, and reluctantly, she came over to him. She allowed him to take her hand and circle his arm around her waist. He pulled her close and they began to sway. Her hesitance slowly melted, and she laid her head on his chest, allowing him to draw her in.

"I went to my sister Aly once for love advice, and she told me there were three songs that women always loved to hear," he whispered, his breath tickling the silky strands of hair around her ear.

"Oh, yeah? What are the other two?"

"I hope one day you'll find out," Nick's answer was wistful, and Sara chose to let his comment pass. She leaned back to stare at him, and he stared back. They danced for a long while, breathing each other in.

Nick saw her studious brow, her unusually shaped nose and high cheeks. Her lips were thin, but ruby red and so softly kissable. Her chin was barely noticeable, her throat as soft as a lambskin. Sara took in his birthmark, his dark thoughtful eyes and strong jaw, covered in stubble. From experience, she knew his hair was soft and practically unmanageable. When Sara had calmed down enough to be gentle, Nick spoke.

"Sara," his entreaty was soft. "Have you ever thought of anyone besides Grissom?"

"Like who?" her throat constricted.

Nick didn't answer her. Instead he stared, and his eyes searched every part of her face. Before Sara could stop him, Nick had mouthed the magic words.

"No, Nick!" she moaned piteously, and broke away from his embrace. "Anything but that!"

"Sara, please. Why am I such a bad second?" She stared at him without answering. He took a step closer.

"Nick," her voice was a warning.

"Please, Sara, just talk to me. Why is it so hard for you to imagine wanting to be with me?"

"This is not fair. You know how I feel about Grissom, you knew going into this. And you knew how I felt about you."

"I'm not sure that I do," he answered stiffly.

"Look, you were the one who wanted this to be about sex."

"I wanted us to be more than friends. And that's an awfully convenient excuse for you, now. You have been there 100%."

"For the sex, Nick, just like you. Sure we're friends, we'll always be friends. But I can't love you. Not while I'm still..." she trailed off.

"In love with Grissom," Nick finished for her.

"Exactly."

"Sara, what you don't see, what you'll never see, is that Grissom will never make you happy. He may say things that make you want to hope, and he may ask you out on dates, but he's never going to commit himself completely to you because HE CAN'T," Nick was aware that he was raising his voice, but he didn't care.

"You don't know that," Sara yelled back.

"Don't I? Where is Grissom tonight? With Lady Heather. On your date. And where are you? You're with me! Always with me!"

"I didn't realize I was such a burden," Sara laughed bitterly.

"You're not a burden, Sara. You're blind." Nick's words were soft, but his tone was hard, angry. "You rub Grissom's face, the man doesn't even react. Grissom doesn't respect you, you file for a leave, he sends you a plant, and suddenly everything is right with the world. The lab blows up, he calls you 'honey,' then drops it like it never even happened. He spends the whole summer acting like you and I are infected with the plague. And now out of the blue he asks you out on a date."

"I'm not some love-struck kid. I stayed because I wanted to," Sara bit her cheek in frustration.

"Grissom has played you like a violin. Because he knew you would stay. Because you can't resist. And I can see it now, Grissom calls, apologizes. Gives you some song and dance about how it was all just a big misunderstanding."

"What if it is?"

"See? You're already forgiving him and he has done NOTHING to earn your trust!"

"And you have? You tell me we're just friends, then we end up in bed together. We make an agreement to share some sex now and again, but no commitment, no strings attached. Then suddenly, you blind-side me with a admission of love?"

"I can't believe this. You give Grissom such a hard time, but you are as emotionally stunted as he is! I fell in love with you, Sara. No plans, no arrangements necessary. Somewhere between "sharing the sex" and spending every minute together, I fell in love with you. And you're going to stand there and tell me you don't feel it too?"

"I don't," Sara's eyes were downcast, unable to meet his.

Nick turned his back to her and with a fierce burst of fury, he punched the wall. His hand broke through the plaster, and into the drywall. He cringed and pulled his hand out, bruised and bleeding.

"Nick," Sara's voice was hushed, and she was fighting very hard to go to him. His face was a mask of pain, and Sara knew he couldn't even feel the injury.

"Just leave," his soft entreaty met her ears. She picked up her bag and left without a word.

Chapter X – Revelations

"Nick, you and Sara have a 419 at the Monaco hotel," Grissom handed the slip to Sara and she looked over at Nick hopefully. Perhaps they could talk, now that he had had some time to calm down. He avoided her eyes.

"Gris, can Warrick handle this one? I have some paperwork and a cold case that might have turned up something new. I really need to work on it today, if possible."

Grissom didn't say anything, but nodded at Sara to hand the slip to Warrick.

"So what have we got?" Catherine asked, wiping her fingers on napkins and reaching for her slip.

"Another 419, at a private residence. We'll need to leave," consulting his watch, "now."

Sara found Nick in the locker room putting on white coveralls over his clothes.

"Nick, can we talk?"

Nick brushed past her on his way out the door with three cold words. "Leave me alone."

"Sara," the door to the lab closed behind Grissom and Sara looked up in surprise.

"Gris," Sara answered noncommittally, hovering over her microscope. Grissom walked over to her and leaned in close.

"I'm sorry about the other day. I didn't expect Heather to arrive unannounced."

"She'd been to your home before. You made up with her after the case. She thought there was something between you, she didn't think that she would have to call," Sara's explanation of things indicated she'd clearly had enough time to mull over the facts to have come to a logical conclusion.

"She and I once had something."

"But you didn't tell her that you and I had a date. You never did tell her," Sara studiously avoided looking at him, and instead added more of the solution to the slide, causing the expected reaction. She carefully noted this on the file, and moved back towards the lighted table.

"Sara, nothing happened. But she is a friend of mine," he advised.

"Maybe it didn't, maybe it did. You and Lady Heather seem to have each other figured out. Maybe you should give it a go," her words were wry and painful.

"We've been friends much longer that this," Grissom reminded her.

"And I don't begrudge you happiness, Gris," Sara's heart clenched painfully when she saw him purse his lips. He turned to leave the room, but Sara's voice at the last minute, stopped him. "Would you begrudge me mine?"

"Happiness? Of course not," he answered, quizzically.

"I think you already have. You know about me and Nick, don't you?"

"I know that you are friends."

"You know that we're more than friends," Sara's head was clearing fast, the pieces were falling into place. "You took me to the vault during the Braun case because you saw that we came the bank together. And you saw us flirting at the lab, so you asked me out of that date. And now, you know that I would've gone to Nick after seeing you with Heather, so you came in here to tell me how sorry that you were." Sara's head cocked, studying him. She watched him get more and more flustered.

"Sara, I…" Grissom was cut off mid-sentence when Sara jumped up from her stool and hurried past him.

"Sorry, Grissom, there is someone I have to see," she stopped right outside of the door and looked back in at him. She smiled the saddest smile Grissom had ever seen. "I'll try to be back before shift is over."

"Nick, please come to the door," Sara pounded with her fist. She was so engrossed in her task that she didn't hear him come up behind her.

"Sara," he inserted himself silkily between her and the doorframe.

"Nick, you've been...running," she stated breathlessly.

"Come in, before my neighbors call the police," he instructed, holding the door open wide. She entered his apartment, then looked sheepish as he turned on the lights and checked his answering machine.

"You were right about Grissom," she told him as soon as she had his attention. He didn't smile. She continued, "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Sara. We all get blinded by love sometimes," his words were a cruel tongue-in-cheek.

"No, but that's not it. Loving Grissom would mean that I truly understood him and I don't. I don't know half the things about him that a woman in love would."

"And?"

"And I'm sorry," she took a deep breath. " But I figured something out tonight, Nick."

He raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

"I do understand you," she couldn't quite look him in the eye.

"It's like you told Grissom, Sara. Sometimes it's just too late."

"I didn't tell him it was too late. I told him it would be too late if he didn't do something about it. I'm here, doing something about it. I know you love me, Nick, and I'm ready to love you too."

Nick's smile was bitter. "Ready? Not...Good...Enough," he enunciated each word precisely. Sara's eyes grew soft and her voice wavered.

"I can't beg. Please don't make me beg."

Nick could hear the unshed tears gently coating her throat, her words.

"I'm not trying to make you beg, Sara. I'm trying to make you see that I will not be second best. I thought, at one time, that I could, for you. But I just can't. If you won't be mine, completely, then I don't want you at all."

"Please." Her single word entreaty made him take a step backwards and regard her thoughtfully.

"'I look to like, if looking liking move. But I will no more deep endart mine eye, than your consent gives strength to make it fly.' Grissom is not the only one who has memorized a passage out of a book." Nick went to the door and held it open for her. Ashamed, she left.

Sara drove the streets of her neighborhood aimlessly. Two rejections from two men in less than two days. She supposed that qualified as some sort of a record. The fact that they were both her two best friends in the world didn't help. Warrick was her friend, Greg was also a friend, Brass, Doc Robbins, David, none of whom could qualify as confidantes. Where did one go when she was alone and friendless in Las Vegas?

"Sara!"

"Hey, Cat. Can I come in?"

"Sure, I just put Lindsey to bed. Come in," Catherine stepped aside to allow Sara to pass, and moved seamlessly into the kitchen. "You want a drink?"

"Whatever you're having," Sara called out. Looking around Catherine's living room, she took inventory of the room, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been at Catherine's. Cat had changed the drapes, and rearranged the furniture. A flash of blond at the entrance to the hall caught her attention, and she beckoned Lindsey over. Lindsey had been very solemn since her father's death, a fact that grieved Catherine constantly. Sara wondered what kind of mood she would find Lindsey in tonight.

"Hey, Linds, you remember me."

"Sara," Lindsey stood very close to the armchair where Sara had sat down, and Sara leaned forward to brush her hair back off of her shoulder.

"How you doing, kiddo?"

"Fine. My mommy says you're stubborn like a mule," Lindsey reported faithfully.

Sara let out a deep chuckle, just as Catherine re-entered with their drinks.

"I meant it in a good way," Catherine shot a grin at Lindsey. "YOU missy, better be in bed by the time I count to ten."

Lindsey reached over to give Sara a hug, surprising her, then dashed back into her bedroom. Sara heard the unmistakable sound of bedsprings and knew that Lindsey had probably taken a flying leap from the door. Catherine rolled her eyes playfully and handed Sara her glass.

"So what's up?" Catherine asked, reclining back onto her sofa.

"What says anything has to be up?" Sara replied, almost defensively.

"You're transparent, what can I say?" Cat responded dryly. "Is it Grissom?" she leaned forward.

"Well, he's half of it."

"Who's the other half?"

"Wild guess."

"Nick," Catherine said, without hesitation.

Sara made a gun with her hand and shot Catherine with it. Both of them sighed heavily.

"Well, lay it out on the table. What's happening?"

Sara took a deep breath, and prepared to bare her soul to the only female friend—aside from Kennedy—that she'd ever had. She told Cat about the night that the lab blew up, propositioning Grissom for a date, and his rejection. She spoke of the soul baring she'd done with Nick, leaving out everything but the most necessary of details. She explained the request from Grissom, finding Lady Heather at his home, and going to Nick. She analyzed the fight with Nick, their argument, and tried to remember verbatim exactly what was said. She recounted the confrontation with Grissom, and then another one later with Nick. She wrapped up the tale by telling Catherine about how Nick had kicked her out.

"He quoted Shakespeare?" was Catherine's only reply.

Sara's reply was to roll her eyes. "Romeo and Juliet, first act, the conversation Juliet had with Lady Capulet about Paris. When her mother asked if she would marry Paris, Juliet essentially told her she was not looking to betroth herself to anyone any time soon. She, of course, meets Romeo in the next act and falls helplessly in love at first sight. It's ironic."

"Sounds like you haven't been shirking your reading, either," Catherine mused.

"I don't think that's the point," Sara said, dryly.

"So, Nick tells you he loves you, you get mad and leave. Then you tell Nick you love him, he gets mad and you leave."

"Uh, he kicked me out."

"Different word, same sound."

"Hey, how did...nevermind. Cat, I don't know what to do," Sara took a long drink from her tumbler. Bourbon, the good stuff, its amber fire burned down her throat.

"Well, start with what you do know. Do you love Grissom?"

"Yes," Sara answered with a sigh.

"Do you love Nick?"

"Yes, but I didn't tell him I loved him exactly. I told him I was ready to love him, and that's what made him angry."

"Okay, so just to be clear, if you had to choose between Grissom and Nick, right this second, who would it be?"

"I don't know," Sara responded miserably. Catherine considered this for a moment, taking a long drink before she spoke again.

"Sara, did I ever tell you that I used to be in love with Grissom?"

"Noooooo," Sara's face was a mask of confusion.

"Oh, yeah, I had it bad. I thought he was the smartest man I'd ever met, and no one would ever be able to excite me about my work like he did. I never wanted to be away from him."

"What happened?"

"I asked him out, he said no. A couple of months later I met Eddie, proceeded down the shame spiral until Grissom made me stop dancing and kick Eddie out. He knew Eddie had cheated on me, and he did what he could to protect me. And Lindsey is the best thing that ever happened to me."

"She's beautiful," Sara murmured idly.

"But aside from all that, I figured something out. About me, you, Grissom. There are some people in your life that you are meant to be with. Physically, emotionally, sexually: marriage. And there are other people that you're going to connect with on an intellectual, emotional level: friends. Grissom and I are going to spend the rest of our lives together in that lab, solving crimes; we're always going to be friends. I thought at one time I felt for him romantically, but it was that friend connection, and I had just misplaced my love for Grissom."

"So you're telling me that I love Grissom, I'm just not in love with Grissom?"

"That's for you to decide," Catherine answered. "I can tell you that he looks at you, he says things to you, the same things that he says to me when we're alone. Grissom is both a scientist, and a poet, and frequently the poet speaks instead of the scientist."

"And how do I know which one is the one? What if neither of them are the one?"

"My mother always said that you never knew who was going to be the one for you, but when it happened, you'd know it."

Sara sighed, deeply.

"I can tell you that Nicky is crazy about you. We've been watching this for weeks, this little soap opera you've been playing out, wondering what would happen."

Sara was quiet, in her own world, thinking, wondering…

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" Catherine asked gently.

"Can I?" Sara's look of hopeful innocence almost broke Catherine's heart. Why had she distrusted Sara so? Especially when it was obvious she needed a friend more than anything else?

"Of course. The guest room is across from Lindsey's," Catherine pointed in the general vicinity of the hallway.

"Okay," Sara murmured. She wandered down the hall and shut the door behind her. She slipped out of her boots, then her jeans, and reached underneath her shirt to remove her bra. Slipping under the covers, she pulled the duvet around her waist and drew her arms back behind her head.

What had Catherine meant when she said Sara would just know? "Just knowing" wasn't scientific enough, there had to be a formula to calculate one's worth, especially for something as important as love. You couldn't just base the entire concept of a relationship on a gut instinct. Sara sat up with a start. Every important decision was weighted on merit. The solution was obvious: she would make a list! Rummaging through the antique desk in the corner of the room, Sara produced a pencil and some notepaper. Lying down on the bed on her stomach, she split the paper into four columns, and at the top of each, she neatly printed her headings: Grissom pro, Grissom con, Nick pro, Nick con. Under Nick's "pro" column she immediately wrote "he loves me." Under Grissom's con column, she wrote "Unknown if Grissom can love anyone, much less me." She felt like that probably wasn't fair, so she erased the "much less me" part.

She added "sometimes immature" to Nick's con column, then added "too serious" to Grissom's. Under Nick's pro column, she quickly jotted "we have fun" and then "likes old movies." Under Grissom's pros, she added "loves science" and "we click." Under Nick's, she added, "always laughing." Grissom's con list grew longer when Sara added "wavering respect" and then "fighting."

She continued to work studiously, adding "great family" to Nick's pros, and "temper" to his cons. Going back to Grissom's, she also noted negatively "never has time." Then to be fair, she added "always has time for me" under Nick's pros. She figured as long as she was there, she should add "knows my secrets and I know his". Under Grissom's cons, she had to write: "knows no secrets." While she was there, she added, "Lady Heather" and then drew a comical angry face with "x's" for eyes. Not very mature, she realized, but she didn't care.

Grissom's pro list was improved when she scrawled, "is mysterious," and then to Nick's cons, "no mystery." Both Nick and Grissom were credited for caring about her. With some amusement, she wrote, "great sex!!" under Nick's pros, but decided not to discredit Grissom for something she'd never experienced, so she didn't add anything to his side. A thought, unbidden, came to her mind: Nick wanted a family. Children, a dog, a loving wife. Well, she definitely didn't want any of those things. But instead of adding it to Nick's cons, she just kept still. Was it that bad that Nick wanted a family? Most people did. Hell, most people had one. Her own family wasn't unloving, just misunderstood. Her parents weren't near able to match her intellectual capabilities, and that had always created a wedge between them. If they had only tried a little harder, loved a little more...

She added "doesn't want a family" to Grissom's pros, but still couldn't bring herself to add "wants a family" to Nick's cons. She noticed with some surprise that Grissom's pros and cons were neck and neck. She couldn't lie; he was a difficult man, a difficult man to love. He was of genius level intelligence, but his social skills sucked. On the other hand, hers weren't so rosy anyway, so maybe that was a sign that they were meant to be together. But if that were so, why was it so hard for them to see eye to eye? Why was it so hard for him to respect her completely?

Sara was even more shocked when she looked over and found that Nick had only three detractors, but nine good qualities. Certainly not as evenly balanced as Grissom's chart, but nothing really screamed out at her. She thought about all the fun that they'd had over the past five months. She loved the way he kissed her, and touched her, and made love to her. That was half of what had made her agree to the whole crazy plan in the first place.

And she had to admit, she loved Nick's family. Katie and Callie were so fun, and Sara could see Nick easily slipping into that younger brother role, the teasing and the camaraderie that she'd never experienced as an only child. She'd gotten a brief glimpse of the joys of his family, and couldn't deny she wanted to know more, wanted to be a part of it.

She loved the morning and days they'd spent together, not necessarily in bed, but watching movies, or going out for dinner, or drinks, or even sitting around at home, drinking, talking. They'd spent so much time together that their forced separation was taking its toll on Sara. She already missed his warm body next to hers in bed; she missed the feeling of knowing he was coming over, anticipating it.

Then she realized with a start that she could add another items to Nick's pros, "has never let me down." Thoughts, unwarranted, unwanted, flashed through her mind: her request for leave of absence, the plant, fighting with Grissom over her empathy, her capability, her work habits, her time off, her overtime, his follow-through, his respect issues, the way he treated Greg, flashes of situations, incidents, and all of the sudden, Lady Heather came to her mind once again. Grissom fancied Lady Heather, had liked her since the first time he met her, and it's true, they were friends, but they had also been more than friends.

She had to wonder if Grissom would ever really see her as anything but a student, a grasshopper. With a start, she ripped off her page of paper and put the pen back where she found it. She got dressed, stuffing her list into her jeans pocket and thrusting her feet into her shoes. She popped her head into Catherine's room long enough to tell Cat she was leaving, to which Catherine answered with a delirious murmur.

Going out to her car, she raced home, knowing, suddenly, for the first time, what she had to do.

Chapter XI – A Crime of Passion

"Nick, please, come in."

"Sara," Nick eyed the black cocktail dress, hose and heels warily. He was feeling that tickle up his spine that he usually got when in the presence of a truly criminal mind. "You said it was important." He stepped in, and carefully surveyed her living room. Everything looked the same, save some rearranged furniture.

"It is. I need you to help reconstruct...a crime."

"A crime?" he asked dubiously.

"Yes," her voice cracked. She motioned for Nick to take a seat in the armchair that she had pulled across the floor to face her couch. "See, both suspects were sitting across from each other like so," she slid down onto the couch across from him.

"Sara, I don't think this is a good idea," Nick didn't sit down, but Sara looked at him honestly and said:

"Give me a chance. I deserve one chance."

Nick was intrigued, he knew where she was going with it, but at the same time, his natural defenses couldn't be ignored. So he sat down, and allowed her to continued.

"Okay, this crime started when both...suspects were sitting across from each other, like so," she gestured first at him, and then herself. "The first suspect was talking to the second about the actions of a third party, getting angry. The second suspect," she gestured to him, "walked over to the stereo in an attempt to calm down the first suspect, to draw her attention away from her ire, and the situation at hand."

Nick rolled his eyes and stood, going over to the stereo.

"Hit play," Sara instructed. The mellow sound of Roberta Flack filled the room. Nick looked perplexed, and sighed through his nose. Sara's voice became very soft and silky. "The second suspect beckons to the first, causing her to cross the room. Then they began to dance." Sara approached Nick very slowly, and he flinched when she took his hands and very gently wrapped them around her waist. "The second suspect then says..."

Nick stared at her for a few moments. Her eyes told him that she wouldn't continue until he did. "Sara, have you ever thought about anyone besides Grissom?"

Sara nodded, her eyes shining bright. "Oh, yes."

Nick was speechless. At her gentle, silent urging, he remembered to play his part. He took a deep breath before mouthing the words, "I love you."

Sara issued a joyful cry and wrapped her arms around Nick's neck. "I love you, too," she whispered. Nick's arms tightened around her ribs, and Sara felt herself being lifted, swung around playfully. Then releasing her, he leaned in for a kiss.

Chapter XII – Happiness Is...

"Nicholas!"

Sara looked over to see Nick's father standing at the gate, waiting for them. His Southern drawl was evident just in the way he said Nick's name.

"Dad," Nick greeted his father with a firm handshake. Carl Stokes had a hug for Sara.

"Where's Mrs. Stokes?" she asked brightly.

"Here I am!" LadyAnn Stokes drew out the word "am" as she high-heeled across the carpet of the airport terminal. "The girls and I were just having a drink down in the lounge. Oh, how's my baby boy?" LadyAnn threw her arms around Nick, and then gave Sara a stiff hug. "Sara, you look lovely." In a moment, Katie had come up to practically jump into Nick's arms, and Callie appeared at Sara's elbow.

"LadyAnn will get used to you," she whispered to Sara. "She just wishes her son had chosen a nice Baptist sorority girl." Sara grinned as three more girls made their approach towards the family.

"What is this, an entourage?" Nick asked, dropping his carryon bag for yet another round of hugs. Nick had spent the plane ride telling Sara about his siblings and their quirks, and now that Sara was seeing them all together, it was all-too-evident. Lacy and Jillian were twins with blonde hair (dyed) and blue eyes (contacts). They were both plump like their mother, and short like their father. Sara honestly couldn't see a single distinguishing factor, other than a small mole on Lacy's neck. She was glad Nick had told her that little detail, though she knew she would have observed it upon their first meeting anyway. Lacy and Jill were both married to criminal defense attorneys, and so both had free time and money, which they combined to run a small battered women's shelter. Nick told her that most people referred to them as Lacy'n'Jill, as if they were one person, so telling them apart was frequently unimportant.

Alyson was a perky redhead (also dyed) whose bright green eyes were actually her own. Her lithe frame was comparable to Sara's, as was her height. She loved to dress up in vintage clothing, a fact that was evidenced tonight by her forties-style hair net, dress, and saddle shoes. Nick always used the phrase "quite a character" when referring to Aly, and the rest of the family generally ignored her eccentric behavior. She smelled like patchouli, but it was only to hide the fact that she was a chain smoker. Alyson was a civil rights attorney for a small group based out of Ft. Worth, though her cases were not generally discussed with her conservative parents.

Sara didn't see Frank or Rachel, but they were expecting twelve for dinner, with all the kids, so she surmised that she would be meeting them soon enough. She rode with Katie and Callie to the restaurant, listening to Katie regale her with stories of the latest amusing incidents around the office.

As she got out of the car, she saw Nick in the back seat of his parent's car, with a pained look on his face. She wondered what kind of clinch his mother had been putting him in. She watched him squirm as the rest of the kids congregated in the parking lot. Finally, Nick and his parents got out of the car and joined them. Nick and Sara brought up the rear.

"You look like you've just gotten your ass chewed out."

"Not so much chewed out as interrogated," he whispered, as they passed his father, who'd held the door open for everyone. They didn't have a chance to talk about it any longer, and when they approached the table, they could see Frank and Rachel already seated. Rachel was a raven-haired beauty, just like Katie, only nine years older, and according to Nick, much less charming. Her strong jaw always meant business, and Sara could tell by her impeccable skin that she didn't laugh much. Rachel was a corporate litigater, and she and Frank ran their own practice in downtown Dallas, Stokes and Sandman. Rachel had been married, but she chose instead to use her mother's maiden name as her moniker, to the consternation of her easily excitable husband. Sara had heard that Rachel spent a LOT of time at the office.

Frank looked very much like Nick, though he did laugh a lot, and joked and talked and held court just like Katie. His Southern ways were no stranger in a Texas courtroom than any others, but he delighted juries and court staff in a way that made him tremendously successful. Frank's wife had left him about three years before, and he had proceeded to live his life as a playboy ever since.

Katie and Callie sat at the end of the table with Sara, while Nick chose to sit at the other end with his parents and Rachel and Frank. It was obvious that this family was close, and Nick slipped back into his role as the youngest son the way he slid in to investigation mode at a crime scene. Sara wondered why he would want to leave this tight-knit family, but knowing that he would always be the baby to them, she understood his need to get away.

Alyson and Callie traded information on the latest civil rights news, Lacy and Jill argued about budgets, and Rachel solemnly listed while Frank gesticulated wildly and laughed. Sara once saw a brief smile, but it was gone so quickly, she couldn't be sure it had actually been there. Katie turned her chair towards Sara's and leaned in for a private conversation.

"I know you've been hiding that ring all night," Katie squealed softly, reaching under the tablecloth to pull Sara's hand into her lap.

"Well, Nick wanted everybody to be together when he told them. After all, it is kind of a shock," she confessed.

"Not so shocking. Not as shocking as two lesbians having the biggest wedding Dallas, Texas has ever seen! When are you going to tell everyone?"

"Nick just told me that he would tell everyone when the time is right, but he won't tell me when."

"As long as it's not my wedding tomorrow, I don't care when he does it," Katie admitted candidly. "It's my day to shine, and by God, I've got to do it."

"Katie, I don't think anyone could ever accuse you of being discreet. Not tomorrow or any other day," Sara grinned her gap-tooth smile that she usually reserved for only her closest friends.

"Sara, I'm so glad you found my brother. You'll never meet a sweeter man," Katie said seriously.

"I know," Sara's eyes shone when she glanced at Nick.

"You there," Carl called. "What are you two girls whispering about so secretively?"

Katie grinned and turned towards her father. "Nothing, Daddy. Sara's very interested in the world of investment brokerage."

"About as interested as a drunk muskrat, I'd wager," Carl answered.

"So, Nick, what are your plans?" Frank slapped his younger brother on the back, and Sara wondered it Nick was going to be portly, balding and obnoxious by the time he was forty-three.

Nick cringed, and looked to Sara for guidance. She very purposefully kept her face blank, but apparently he found the courage he needed, because he blurted, "Sara and I have gotten married." A murmur went down the table, and Sara felt Katie squeeze her hand. "Please know that we didn't want to exclude anyone, we just felt that there wasn't any reason to wait."

There were hugs and kisses, and finally Sara pulled her ring out from underneath the table, showing Nick's family what a lovely diamond he had bought for her. She didn't frequently get a chance to wear it, but when she did, it sat high and proud on her clumsy fingers, making them seem more graceful.

"I just want to warn you, Nick wants a big family," Katie whispered into her ear as they hugged. Sara rolled her eyes at the teasing. Rachel, and LadyAnn's hugs were exceedingly stiff, while the other girls embraced her with as much exuberance as Katie had, the first time they met.

As they sat back to eat, Sara realized there was nothing more in the world that she wanted. She had a loving husband, a great family, and some of the best friends an emotionally stunted workaholic could ever ask for. Catherine had been right, you never know whom you're made for, but when it happens, you'll know. And she did.

Finis

The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the endless skies.

And the first time ever I kissed your mouth
I felt the earth move in my hand

Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command, my love.

The first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last 'till the end of time, my love.

The first time ever I saw your face, your face, your face.

Roberta Flack, "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face"