A.N. Ah, short fics. A little piece of sanity goes a long way.
Disclaimer: CBS still owns them. Although to be frank, I think we'd all have a lot more fun if we owned them don't you think?
Spoilers: Stalker, which makes sense, since it is a post ep.
A big THANK YOU goes out to Michmak who edited this.
Here is some Nick and Sara for all those people who asked for it.
* * * * * * *
Nick heard someone talking to the police officers that were standing in his living room. He heard as the voice recounted everything that had happened from the time Nick had received Grissom's phone call until the Brass and the cavalry arrived on his front porch. Absently, Nick wondered how the voice knew so much of what was going on in his house, and then reflected that Nigel probably would have been able to give the same, cold analysis of the night's terrible adventures.
The voice continued, and Nick's eyes fell on Sara Sidle. Sara had tears in her eyes that threatened to fall even as she scoured the room for the cameras that Nigel had used to observe him. He wondered why she would cry, and instinctively tried to catch her eye to let her know that it would be all right. Then he remembered that he was the last person who was currently in position to comfort anyone.
Nick looked away from Sara and his eyes traveled across the room to where the body of Pearson lay on the floor waiting for the coroner to arrive. He heard the voice falter in its description, and then continue in the same, flat tone that it had been using all along. He never even really talked to Pearson before the man disappeared. Next thing Nick knew, his roof had come crashing in, and he had much more immediate concerns than the psychic. He wondered briefly if Pearson had a family. If, somewhere in Vegas, a wife and children waited for a father who was never coming home.
Nick tore his eyes away, and continued his scan of the room. The voice was still talking, but he had long since ceased to listen. His eyes fell on the gun. His gun. Issued by the Las Vegas Police Department. He'd never drawn it. Not until that night. And then Nigel got it, and for a moment, Nick thought he was going to be shot with his own gun. Instead, Nigel would have shot himself, had Brass not arrived in time.
His eyes found their way back to Sara. She had finished her search for the cameras, and had let Warrick and Grissom know where they were. She made her way over to him, and sat down beside him on the couch. She took his hands in hers. The voice faltered again, but this time when it began its narration, there seemed to be a little bit of emotion, a trace of hope in its diction.
Catherine came in with a paramedic, and talked to the police officers who were taking notes. The voice stopped, and Catherine asked Nick if he was ready to go to the hospital. Suddenly, Nick felt a wave of repulsion towards his house. How could he be expected to ever stay in this place again? After what had happened here, could he ever sleep in his
own bed and not wake, scanning the ceiling above him in panic; paranoia overcoming him? He had to get out, and the hospital seemed like a good place to start.
Nick walked to the ambulance all by himself, and was helped in by the other paramedic. He watched as Sara climbed in beside him, and when she took his hands again he realized how much he had missed their contact. The scientific part of his brain told him that this was natural. Of course he wanted physical contact with someone he trusted absolutely.
But the emotional part of his mind, exhausted as it was, knew otherwise. Sara was different. It was more than trust he felt for her. It was something deeper, something inexplicable. Something that was, until tonight, one of the most frightening things in Nick's life.
He loved Sara Sidle. It was that simple. And until he saw his life flash before his eyes, he was scared to say anything. Scared of being hurt. But now he knew what hurt was. And, if the tingling in his hands as Sara touched him was any indication, he knew what it was to love Sara.
And the two were as dissimilar as can be imaginable. How could he have been scared of his feelings? Now that he had known true fear, he knew he would find the strength to tell her how she made him feel. How much he loved her. How badly he wanted her.
He no longer feared her.
And he had Nigel, and Pearson and Jane Galloway to thank for it.
Nick began to cry, and Sara pulled his head to her in an embrace meant to comfort.
And Nick cried.
* * * * * * *
Well, what do we think?
Disclaimer: CBS still owns them. Although to be frank, I think we'd all have a lot more fun if we owned them don't you think?
Spoilers: Stalker, which makes sense, since it is a post ep.
A big THANK YOU goes out to Michmak who edited this.
Here is some Nick and Sara for all those people who asked for it.
* * * * * * *
Nick heard someone talking to the police officers that were standing in his living room. He heard as the voice recounted everything that had happened from the time Nick had received Grissom's phone call until the Brass and the cavalry arrived on his front porch. Absently, Nick wondered how the voice knew so much of what was going on in his house, and then reflected that Nigel probably would have been able to give the same, cold analysis of the night's terrible adventures.
The voice continued, and Nick's eyes fell on Sara Sidle. Sara had tears in her eyes that threatened to fall even as she scoured the room for the cameras that Nigel had used to observe him. He wondered why she would cry, and instinctively tried to catch her eye to let her know that it would be all right. Then he remembered that he was the last person who was currently in position to comfort anyone.
Nick looked away from Sara and his eyes traveled across the room to where the body of Pearson lay on the floor waiting for the coroner to arrive. He heard the voice falter in its description, and then continue in the same, flat tone that it had been using all along. He never even really talked to Pearson before the man disappeared. Next thing Nick knew, his roof had come crashing in, and he had much more immediate concerns than the psychic. He wondered briefly if Pearson had a family. If, somewhere in Vegas, a wife and children waited for a father who was never coming home.
Nick tore his eyes away, and continued his scan of the room. The voice was still talking, but he had long since ceased to listen. His eyes fell on the gun. His gun. Issued by the Las Vegas Police Department. He'd never drawn it. Not until that night. And then Nigel got it, and for a moment, Nick thought he was going to be shot with his own gun. Instead, Nigel would have shot himself, had Brass not arrived in time.
His eyes found their way back to Sara. She had finished her search for the cameras, and had let Warrick and Grissom know where they were. She made her way over to him, and sat down beside him on the couch. She took his hands in hers. The voice faltered again, but this time when it began its narration, there seemed to be a little bit of emotion, a trace of hope in its diction.
Catherine came in with a paramedic, and talked to the police officers who were taking notes. The voice stopped, and Catherine asked Nick if he was ready to go to the hospital. Suddenly, Nick felt a wave of repulsion towards his house. How could he be expected to ever stay in this place again? After what had happened here, could he ever sleep in his
own bed and not wake, scanning the ceiling above him in panic; paranoia overcoming him? He had to get out, and the hospital seemed like a good place to start.
Nick walked to the ambulance all by himself, and was helped in by the other paramedic. He watched as Sara climbed in beside him, and when she took his hands again he realized how much he had missed their contact. The scientific part of his brain told him that this was natural. Of course he wanted physical contact with someone he trusted absolutely.
But the emotional part of his mind, exhausted as it was, knew otherwise. Sara was different. It was more than trust he felt for her. It was something deeper, something inexplicable. Something that was, until tonight, one of the most frightening things in Nick's life.
He loved Sara Sidle. It was that simple. And until he saw his life flash before his eyes, he was scared to say anything. Scared of being hurt. But now he knew what hurt was. And, if the tingling in his hands as Sara touched him was any indication, he knew what it was to love Sara.
And the two were as dissimilar as can be imaginable. How could he have been scared of his feelings? Now that he had known true fear, he knew he would find the strength to tell her how she made him feel. How much he loved her. How badly he wanted her.
He no longer feared her.
And he had Nigel, and Pearson and Jane Galloway to thank for it.
Nick began to cry, and Sara pulled his head to her in an embrace meant to comfort.
And Nick cried.
* * * * * * *
Well, what do we think?