A/N: Boy, do I have a story for you! So I flew home yesterday, and we were actually early coming in to the Orlando airport. We were about 2 minutes away from landing, when we had to pull back up b/c of some warning. Then we circle around and try to land about 3 more times. Somewhere in there, our radar and compass went out b/c we were apparently struck by lightning. We pull back up one last time and hit some mad turbulence and I seriously thought we were going to crash!! People were screaming and we were free falling for seconds on end. Not pretty – so we are diverted to Jacksonville. They decide to bus us back to Orlando, so we wait around for an hour for the bus. It picks us up, and 40 minutes later it gets a FLAT TIRE!! So then we had to stop at a rest stop and wait half an hour for another bus to pick us up. We finally arrived at the airport about 6 hours after our arrival time. Grrr.

This is a response to a challenge. You had to start the fic with a line from any novel. This quote is from the book "Rattled" by Debra Galant which I am currently reading. I recommend it – it's very funny and awesome! The quote's just random, but I liked it.

"That vase was a Ming!" She screamed. "I got it on eBay! I followed that auction every minute for a whole week. Do you know what that's worth?"

Marilyn Caymen glared a hole through Sara Sidle's sweaty brow as she stood with her arms crossed, looking quite intimidating. Any other CSI may have been taken aback by her surely multi-thousand dollar earring and necklace set, her pricey and decidedly chic Prada capris, paired with a cerulean blue sleeveless blouse that complimented those raging blue eyes. How ironic, Sara thought, that someone with those innocent pools of blue could turn them into something so amazingly evil?

Sara would not be intimidated. I mean, come on, she had been buried under a thousand pound plus car for several hours in the mud and pouring rain – she'd been put there by some crazy janitor lady that pushed her own sister out of the tree house as a spawn of Satan child. Her mother had practically been murdered in front of her by her own father. Her best friend had been buried alive. Oh, and let's not forget Grissom. Grissom, Grissom, Grissom.

"Ma'am, it's being handled with the utmost care by my team members as evidence in your robbery." Sara informed the psychotic suburban soccer mom with way too much time on her hands. "If there are any scratches, you'll have to fill out a damage report and we'll see what we can do."

There was a fat chance that she'd get any money out of them, especially since it was apparently a 'Ming' vase – the city had much more important and practical things to spend their money on, like, say schools, the homeless, roads…not reimbursing some over-indulged spoiled homemaker.

"You'll see what you can do my ass." She retorted, rolling her eyes which the guys went crazy for, Sara was sure. The way she quirked that perfectly manicured eyebrow assured Sara this lady got whatever she wanted and exactly when she wanted it. She was just a slightly more chubby, older version of Paris Hilton. Sara loathed Paris Hilton. People who got things handed to them with absolutely no work, no sweat, really ticked her off.

Sara had really had quite enough of this spoiled brat and her rude under-the-breath remarks. It had been a long, tedious day, and a decidedly crappy year so far.

"You know what, lady?" Sara began to fume, feeling her blood boil right in her veins. "Why don't you take that Ming vase, turn it sideways, and shove it up your…"

"Here's a damage report for you, ma'am." Nick's warm voice, and reassuring hand on her shoulder interrupted her rant as he handed Mrs. Caymen a copy of the form, and saved Sara from certain disciplinary action from Ecklie. "We'll get that processed as soon as possible."

Mrs. Caymen snatched the crisp white paper up from Nick's outstretched hand with a little more swipe than necessary.

"Thanks." She told the square-jawed man bitterly, giving Sara one last venomous glare, probably the same kind she gave the other soccer moms on the opposing team before sectional games, and then turned her tanned shoulder, strutting away.

As soon as the witch was out of ear shot, Sara let out a rather annoyed groan and clenched her fists at her sides, something quite out of character for the notoriously cool-headed CSI.

Nick clearing his throat reminded her she was not alone. She turned with a tired sigh to find Nick's familiar, concerned face. Sara loved the way he looked at her like she was as delicate as that vase she'd supposedly scratched, but he never looked at her like she was broken or off her chain like many of her coworkers now did. Like the way Grissom looked at her after she'd come home from the hospital, claiming she'd changed. He wasn't an ass or anything, but he just wasn't there for her emotionally. Sara had decided she didn't like the way he would look at her like she was about to snap like some inpatient in a mental health institution. No, Nick never looked at her like that, just as she'd never done the same when he was recovering from being buried alive.

"Y'alright, Sar?" He asked her gently. Nick could ask her if she was alright without making her feel like some pitied low-life who couldn't control her life.

"I'm just great, Nick." Sarcasm laced her voice. "Now psycho suburban mom is probably going to whine to Ecklie about me ruining her vase by leaving a two millimeter scratch. Who cares that her impressionable son was witness to a major robbery."

She started walking back towards the air-conditioned Denali because she doubted Mrs. Caymen would let her set foot back in her recently waxed and polished show-room-like house. Nick was on her heels, wanting to make sure his good friend didn't beat herself up about this.

"Sar, don't let her get to you. She's just stuck-up and upset like you are." He reasoned, and when she gave him a questioning look, he immediately rethought his words. "I mean, you're not stuck-up. You're upset, like she is."

Sara sighed, and if she wasn't so ticked off and down, she would smile at how cute his backtracking had been. Nick continued on.

"You have every right to be upset, Sar." Sara hoped he wouldn't get into her encounter with the miniature killer. "She was irritable and getting bitchy, but Sara…"

Here it came…the professionalism.

"You can't tell people, especially the victims, to shove something up their ass. And that vase is evidence. We can't have her crap all over it, because it would erase the prints."

Sara allowed herself a small smile but quickly erased it. She was supposed to be pissed, but Nick always had a way of making her feel better, even in the gravest situations.

"I'm aware of that Nick, but is she really much of a victim?" She took a sip of her bottled water and gestured towards her multi-million dollar brick home with a perfectly green lawn and landscaped yard. "She'll have all this replaced by insurance next week."

"But that's not for you to decide, Sar. We can't treat people differently just because we think they're well off." He pointed out, leaning against the open car door while Sara sat in the seat, her legs dangling out.

"It still pisses me off." Sara told him, taking another sip of her water before leaning her head against the frame of the SUV. Some hair fell onto her face, and Sara could care less what she looked like at the moment. However, she was pleasantly surprised when she felt some fingers very gently move her hair and smoothed it behind her ear. Sara looked up at Nick as she felt her heart flutter at how adorable and nice he was acting. No one had ever done that for her before. Nick let his fingers trail through her hair as he brought his hand down, and crossed them over his chest again.

"Sar, I know you hate me asking, but are you really okay?" He asked her, concern in his voice and in his eyes. Nick crooked his head to the side slightly to get a better look at her face, which he studied intently. Sara was the queen of being stubborn, and knew she wasn't one to just open up and tell people her problems.

"Nicky…"

"I know you're suffering Sara." Nick cut her off gently. "I'm still recovering from being buried, and that was two years ago now."

Well, that put a dent on her outlook for the future, as if it was gleaming that much right now anyway. Two years, and he was still suffering?

Nick could tell she wasn't really in the mood to open up. She had her arms crossed, she stared at the ground, and acted as if his words were physically irritating her ears. He of course knew he wasn't irritating her, it was just the fact that someone was trying to probe into her feelings. It didn't really matter who it was, but he hoped to change that.

"I know now's not a good time to talk." He acknowledged the wrong place, wrong time excuse. "We've got a scene still to process. After shift? Wanna go get some ice cream or something?"

Sara smiled and let herself chuckle. Was she in kindergarten? He was trying to coax her with ice cream? Well, it was working. After thinking of an excuse in her head not to, she decided to give in. Who could turn down an ice cream with Nick Stokes?

"Sure, Nick. That sounds good." She smiled up at him.

Nick was slightly surprised she'd said yes, pretty sure she was going to give him some lame excuse about having to do laundry or a yoga class. They agreed to meet in the locker room after shift. The sun was just beginning to come up, so it would soon be time for their banana splits.

CSI CSI CSI CSI CSI CSI

A couple hours later, Nick and Sara were sitting across from each other at a picnic table outside of Smiley's Ice Cream Stand. Nick had opted for a dipped cone, and Sara snacked on a hot fudge sundae. The sun had begun its journey to the top of the sky, making for a toasty day already at nine a.m. The atmosphere and the ice cream were already doing wonders for Sara's mood, on top of Nick's company.

"I can't believe you got a dipped cone." She smiled as she let the warmth of the hot fudge and the coolness of the vanilla ice cream mesh together for a comforting and invigorating combination.

Nick quirked his eyebrows a little and his lips formed a smirk as he examined his chocolate dipped cone, a long-lasting favorite of his.

"What's wrong with a dipped cone?" He caught a chocolate chip that was about to fall as he waited for her answer.

Sara shrugged and fished for another bite with her spoon. "Nothing wrong with it if you're eight years old."

Nick let out an insulted chuckle. "Is that right? And is a hot fudge sundae much better?"

"It's ten times better than a dipped cone." Her tone was slightly teasy. Nick had a way of helping her forget about whatever was bothering her. That quality was one of the many reasons Nick made such a great best friend.

"Mmmmm. And why's that?"

"Chocolate shells just scream childishness, Nick." She began. "That's like putting that Magic Shell stuff on your dessert. Hot fudge is much more mature."

"Well, what if I like childish things?" His ice cream made a crunch as he devoured another chunk of the chocolate shell. When you got him away from work, Nick really did have a childish quality about him. A mature childishness, if there was such an oxymoron. He had the amazing ability to be a perfect gentleman, your best friend, and a complete ham when you needed him to be.

"Well then that's a good thing." Sara admitted to him and swallowed. "It's good to laugh."

Nick nodded but studied her face once again. "It's okay to laugh." He told her gently. Sara looked at him and gave him a weak smile. She could sense he was trying to turn the conversation, and while she knew she eventually needed to talk about it, his presence and his playfulness was very comforting to her troubled soul.

"I know, Nick." She told him softly, putting her spoon down as she folded her arms on top of the picnic table. "And I know you want me to talk, but…for right now can we just…"

Nick gave an understanding nod and a wink. "Of course, Sar. We don't have to talk if you're not ready." He wiped his mouth with a napkin and rose from his seat. "But you do have to quit making fun of my ice cream and let me give you a hug."

Sara laughed a little and obliged him as he came to sit next to her on the other side of the picnic table. He straddled the seat and carefully wrapped his arms around her, taking care not to get his ice cream on her. Sara reveled in his strong, secure arms around her tired body. She hadn't been sleeping well since the incident, and couldn't help but wonder what her sleep habits would be like if she could just lay safe in his arms all night long. Sara reminded herself not to get her hopes up – her life was spiraling in a terrible bad luck spell. Why would her luck start changing now?

Sara sighed in his arms and allowed her head to rest against his shoulder. It felt so good to be enveloped by his warmth and caring nature, and she was having trouble leaving. All her life she had been denied the love and care she needed by her parents and past boyfriends, but now here with Nick she felt more loved than ever, and it was just an ice cream date. She was starting to feel so comfortable that she felt tears threatening to spill over her droopy eyes.

Nick felt Sara's body relaxing in his arms, then tighten up again suddenly. He put two and two together, and figured that she was finally allowing herself to cry, so he set his ice cream down carefully on the table and wrapped both arms around her fully. Nick kissed the top of her head and just held her as she began to cry. She hadn't allowed herself to cry much since the incident; not really cry. It felt good to just let it all out, and Nick didn't seemed to mind. In fact, he seemed to understand.

The slow, steady beating of his heart paired with his strong, warm hand stroking her back calmed Sara right down again. He whispered comforting, supportive words to her every now and then as she let everything out and allowed the emotions to drain from her body. After about ten minutes, Sara finally wiped her eyes and began to sit up. Nick rubbed her back up and down a few times and then let his hand rest at the small of her back. He kissed her temple in a comforting gesture and stroked her hair behind her ear once again.

"Sorry. I don't know what got into me."

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart." His voice was low and not pitying, but understanding. Nick's fingers gently scratched and rubbed at her back once again. "It sucks, but I know crying helped me. And you can always cry on my shoulder. Don't be afraid to ask."

Sara nodded and smiled through her teary eyes and let her head fall against Nick's strong shoulder and chest. What a great place to be, she thought, as his arms wrapped around her again. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Nick spoke again.

"So, you break down crying when I give you a hug. What are you gonna do if I ever kiss you?" He turned his head a bit, trying to get a look at her face as he smiled. Sara laughed a little and looked up at him as their forgotten ice creams melted in the hot Las Vegas sun.

"Well one of these days I may just have to let you find out."