Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I really never knew if I'd write in this fandom again, but I guess the heart always calls us home. If you're reading this, thank you. It's not much, but I am awfully rusty:)

Lean on Me

by Kristen Elizabeth

It takes a long time to grow an old friend. - John Leonard

Sara climbed into bed with an ice pack for her hand, a glass of wine for her nerves and every intention of calling her husband to tell him all about her first fist-fight since high school. But with each relaxing sip, her resolve slipped.

I'll just wake him up.

He'll worry too much.

I sound worse than I feel. Morning will be better.

When her phone began to rang, she quite literally winced. Could Gil somehow sense what she was thinking from the other side of the planet and was he calling to remind her that the ring he'd put on her finger entitled him to know when she decided to take on a throng of anti-government wackos?

Sara glanced at the screen. Nick Stokes. Instantly, her shoulders relaxed. After draining her glass in one gulp, she reached for the phone.

"You had better not be in the hospital again," she greeted him, only half joking.

Nick snorted. "Hello to you, too."

"Seriously." Sara straightened her back against her pillows. "Are you all right?"

"Sure. Yeah." He blew out a breath. "Not really." She waited for him to go on. "It's been a pretty shitty week, Sara," Nick finally said.

She nodded, not trusting her voice for a moment. "You can say that again."

"I was thinking about Warrick earlier...and then I saw Grissom's stupid radiated pig and I just..." Nick stopped and cleared his throat. "I needed to talk to someone who misses both of them as much as I do."

Sara glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was almost one in the morning. But what were friends for?

"Want to come over?"

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Please," she scoffed. "Just so you know, I'm out of beer. In case you want to pick up some on the way over."

"I'm way ahead of you, Sara." There was a knock on her front door that startled her. "Oh, and I'm already here."

She answered the door a minute later, having only taken the time to throw on a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. Gil wasn't a jealous man, but she doubted he'd be okay with his wife entertaining Nick Stokes after midnight in just a tank top and panties.

Nick was waiting with a six pack and a smile. "You're a saint, Mrs. Grissom."

"Yeah, I'm due for canonization any day now." Sara held up her bandaged hand. "Can't you tell?"

Nick scanned the townhouse as Sara rebolted the door. "Wow. The place looks..."

"Empty," she finished for him. "I haven't had time to get most of our stuff out of storage yet."

Ever the gentleman, Nick let the subject drop...and unknowingly picked up an even more sensitive one. "How's Hank the wonder dog?"

Sara forced a smile. "I'm sure he's great. He likes Paris. The pigeons there are fatter, slower and easier to chase."

"Too much French bread in their diets."

It felt good to joke and Sara's smile was suddenly genuine. "I miss him."

Nick watched her out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe you should take a week or two off. Go visit your boys."

"You were shot and nearly blown up and you're trying to get me to take a vacation?" Sara put her hand on his muscled forearm. "Gil really did teach you well."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Sara took the beer from him and headed down the steps. "You put everyone's needs above your own. And that's trademark Grissom. Trust me."

Nick followed her into the kitchen. "You know, I have an old bone to pick with you."

"Really?" She took a beer and offered him one. "I'm listening."

He took a fortifying sip. "Okay, I get that you and Griss aren't really big on tradition and romance, but getting married halfway around the world without telling anyone..." Nick rested his good arm on the tiled island and leaned in. "It's like reading a real good book for eight years, but never getting to read the ending 'cause someone tore out the last chapter."

"So...the story ends after marriage?"

Nick started to nod, but quickly changed his mind. "We should have been there," he scowled. "That's all I'm saying. We wanted to be there."

"You were," Sara said after a moment. After another moment, Nick nodded.

Seconds passed in silence as they drank. She could tell that he wanted to say more, but she hadn't been exaggerating about his manners. Nick was too polite to harp on a sore subject.

But she wasn't too polite to press him into talking about whatever had sent him to her apartment after midnight.

"I heard what happened at the funeral." Sara clarified, "Before the bombs, I mean."

Nick's mouth grew tight and his eyes darkened. "They had every right to ask me to leave." He paused. "I was directly responsible for his death."

"Huh." Sara shook her head in mock amazement. "I had no idea that you shot him,"

"Don't do that." Nick set down his beer with great force. "I sent him to his death without even thinking about it."

"And here I thought you just asked him to do the job he was trained to do...backing you up."

Gripping the counter hard enough that Sara feared for its safety, Nick swore under his breath. "Who had his back? Not me." His back curved and his shoulders slumped. "I should have gone. It should have been me." When he looked up, his eyes were wet. "It should have been me, Sar."

"Don't ever say that," she warned. "You and I both know...better than anyone else...how quickly our lives can change. All it takes is one fucked up person and that's it. Story's really over." Her hands trembled around her beer can, but she squared her shoulders. "But we're different, Nick. We survived."

"It wasn't our time," he agreed. "But when it is..."

"It'll be a long time from now," Sara decided. "Personally, I intend to die in the rain forest."

"Rain forest?" She nodded, but gave no further explanation. "I guess I'll die in Texas, then." Nick thought about this. "Yeah, definitely Texas. Home, sweet home. Forever."

"See, this is what happens when you stop by my place after hours." Sara smirked. "Mortality and morbidity. And people wonder how I landed Gil Grissom."

Nick shifted his stance, bringing him several inches closer to her. "No one wonders that."

"True. They're probably too busy wondering why we live in different countries."

"Because you're two very unique people who have one very unique marriage." Sara blinked and Nick shrugged. "Least that's what I say to shut them up."

"You don't have to..."

He held up his good hand. "When someone's bad-mouthing someone I care about, yes, I do."

Sara lowered her chin. "Gil would appreciate that."

"Wasn't just talking about him." When she looked up, he smiled. "You gotta know I always liked you a little more than I should have, Sara."

"That's the beer talking," she said once she'd found her voice again.

"No, the beer just makes it harder to hide." He put a hesitant hand over hers. "I could have made you happy, but I never could have made you whole. Not like he does."

Their foreheads met as they both looked down at their hands. Sara closed her eyes at the contact. Nick smelled wonderful, like he'd just stepped out of an aftershave commercial. It would have been very easy to let her lips find his...and she would have hated herself for the rest of her life.

Sara lifted her chin, but only to press a kiss on his brow. "Thank you," she whispered.

Nick smiled sadly. "What are friends for?"

He stayed for another hour, long enough for the alcohol to fade away completely. After he left, Sara crawled back into bed, ready for some much needed sleep.

But almost as soon as she'd drifted off, her phone rang.

Gil.

"Hey," she mumbled sleepily, barely able to keep the phone against her ear. "Guess what?"

On the other side of the world, Grissom played along. "What, honey?"

"I punched someone today."

Fin