I own nothing. Writing is just a creative outlet, and I get no payment in return. Suing me is pointless, as all you'll get it the lint in my pocket. But hey, if it gets me out to LA, and possible on the set of CSI, I'm all for it! LOL! Just kidding, people. Yeesh!

Please R&R.

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Sara fanned herself against the heat as she entered the diner, shocked at how crowded it was at nearly four pm. She bobbed and weaved her way through the patrons to the long, narrow counter space and found herself a stool to perch on.

"I'll be right with you, Ma'am," a uniformed waitress acknowledged as she busily sped past Sara, five plates of food carefully balanced in her hands and along her arms.

"Sure, no problem," Sara mumbled, playing absently with the chain around her neck.

"Well aren't you a pretty thing," a man about her age spoke, startling her. She turned to look at him and froze.

She fought against the bile rising in her throat. The man was creepy. The way he smelled -- it was too framiliar. As were his eyes. Cold, and dead. She said nothing, just turned her attention back to the waitresses busily working.

"Say," he continued, "there are no booths left, and since I think you and I would get along well, how 'bout you let me sit on that stool and you can sit on my lap." She turned around and gave him one of her infamous stares. Usually, at this point, men backed off. "I don't mind." She rolled her eyes, turning back around.

"Well, I do," she said. He placed his hand on her lower back and she whipped around to face him. "Take your hand off me," she spat through gritted teeth.

"Fiesty," he smirked. "I like."

"Sara," he drawled protectively, approaching his co-worker. He saw her glance his way, and appreciation swept across her face. He pushed past the man invading her space and offered his hand out to her, which she took without hesitation. She stood up and he slipped an arm around her waist, and she mirrored his actions. "I didn't see you come in. Our table is over here," he nodded his head in the direction of the table before leading her away from the counter.

"Thanks for the save," she said over the murmur of conversation that was reverberating thoughout Franks Restaurant.

"Could never resist a beautiful woman in need of assistance," he smiled as they reached the booth. It was then that he realised his arm was still around her waist. Regretfully, he released his grip and slid in, motioning for her to join them.

"I don't want to intrude," she shook her head.

"You're not," a woman in her early fourties smiled. "Please, join us."

"Are you sure?" she asked cautiously.

"Sara, sit," Nick smiled, shaking his head.

The man and woman across from him exchanged looks, the realization of why Nick left the booth so abruptly now clear to them. The look did not go unnoticed by Nick.

"Please join us," the man smiled, using the same words the woman had just used seconds before. He reached out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Sara. I'm Tom, Nick's older, more handsome brother."

"I'm his wife," the woman said dryly as she poked her husband in the ribs, smiling at Sara and rolling her eyes. "My name is Emily. Nice to meet you."

Sara laughed, and shook her head as she slid in next to Nick and extended her hand to the man. "Nice to meet you both."

"And this," Nick smiled widely, "is Jacob." He reached across the table and tickled the infants stomach, causing him to gurgle happily.

Sara smiled at the innocent young life. "Aren't you a cutie," she cooed.

"Gonna be a heart breaker," Emily smiled as she bounced her son in her lap. "Just like these two," she nodded at her husband and brother in law.

"How old is he?" Sara asked Emily quietly, her eyes sparkling.

Nick noticed and a smile tugged at his lips.

"Two and a half months," she answered. "Happiest baby, if I do say so myself. Cutest too. But I may be a little biased."

"Well, I'm not and I agree," Sara answered easily.

"Here we are," the waitress smiled, placing three plates of food on the table. She looked at the new face. "What can I get you, Sara?"

"Veggie burger, garden salad and a bottled water, please Marla. Can you make it to go?"

"Sure thing," she smiled. "Anything else for you while you wait?" The small group shook their heads no, smiling in appreciation. "Alright, I'll bring your order as quickly as possible."

"Thanks."

"You didn't have to do that," Nick said, one eyebrow raised.

"Do what?"

"Get you're order to go."

"Please stay," Emily smiled.

"I would love too, but I can't."

"Sara," Nick drawled.

"Really, I have an appointment," she stated.

"Is everything OK?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

"Yeah, just a meeting with a financial planner. Nothing earth shattering," she said. "Quite boring, actually."

"Jacob," Emily quietly whined, "mommy wants to eat. Sit still." She glanced around the establishment at all the high chairs that were being used. She glanced up at Sara. "Would you mind holding him? Just until I've finished eating?"

"Oh!" she was surprised. "I don't know. I'm not really good with kids."

"Yes you are," Nick reassured. He really didn't like how she didn't give herself enough credit. Kids, especially those coming out of bad situations, seemed to gravitate towards her.

"Babies are a whole different ball game," she shook her head. "Haven't you ever noticed how whenever a baby is around, everyone else holds it?"

"His head won't fall off," Emily reassured her, smiling slightly. "I promise." She could see that Sara was at a loss for words. "Here," she said, standing up, "just support his head." And with that, faster than Sara could've imagined, she was craddling the small infant in her arms.

Nick chuckled softly at the terrified expression on Sara's face. "See?" he said. "Nothing scary about a little baby. At least, not until it's time to change the diaper."

"You're turns coming little brother," Tom said, taking a bite of his fry.

The baby reached up and grabbed the necklace that Sara was wearing, fascinated by it. She smiled down in to his eyes and slowly relaxed.

Now, Nick couldn't hide his smile. "You're a natural."

She glanced over at Nick and couldn't help but smile herself.

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"Where is Sara?" Warrick questioned, glancing at his watch. It was 5:57pm, and shift was going to start in three minutes. Normally, she was there at least ten minutes early.

"Her meeting must've run late," Nick shrugged, glancing at his own watch.

"Meeting?" Warrick questioned.

Just then, they could hear two women walking down the hall towards them in the break room.

"Isn't he great?" Cath smiled.

"I had my doubts, but you were right," Sara answered. "Now, it's all done and I can just relax." They entered the breakroom where Warrick and Nick were.

"What's this I hear about a meeting?" Warrick asked, an eyebrow up. "You aren't thinking about joining another CSI team, are you?"

"I'm here for the long haul," she said. "Well, that is, unless I shoot my mouth off when Ecklie is around."

Nick laughed. "Wouldn't blame ya if you did."

"No one would," Catherine laughed.

"So . . . not to be repetative, but . . . meeting?"

"Financial planner," she shrugged. "The sale of the property in Tamales Bay was finalised last week, and I had all that cash sitting in my account. Had to do something with it," she answered matter-of-factly. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down beside Nick, across from Catherine, who'd taken up residence in the chair beside Warrick.

"Retiring early, huh?" Nick smirked, poking her in the ribs.

Sara looked at him and glanced at the table, forcing a small smile. "Something like that."

"You know your mom would want you to use it," Warrick said softly.

They all knew how hard the last month had been on Sara.

FLASHBACK

The team had finished a long double shift and decided to go to Franks Restaurant. Though tired, both physically and emotionally, they were all happy to have caught the perp. They were smiling and laughing softly when her world, or rather what was left of it, had come tumbling down.

"Sorry," she rolled her eyes. "I must've forgot to turn it off." She looked at the display and noticed the framilar number. It was not a number that she called, or was called from, regularly, but her heart jumped to her throat. "This is Sara."

Everyone at the table glanced at each other, noting how soft her voice had become and that she'd answered 'this is Sara' rather than the normal 'Sidle.'

"What?" she asked, not believing to have heard correctly. The woman repeated herself. "When? . . . . No, no, I'm sure you did . . . . uh, yeah, I'll be on the next flight . . . . thanks." She disconnected the call. "Griss, I, uh -- can't work tonight. Do you think you can get someone from days to cover me?"

"Yeah, of course," he spoke just as softly as her.

"Sara?" Catherine softly called out to her, placing a comforting hand on Sara's that was resting on the table top.

"Hmm?" she snapped back into reality.

"What happened?" Catherine pried softly, even after years of working together and becoming friends, Sara's life prior to Las Vegas was still very much a mystery. The only thing that any of them really knew was that she'd attended Harvard. And grew up in California.

"My, uh, mom . . ." she stopped, almost trying to believe that the phone call she'd received really had happened, "she's dead."

"I'm so sorry, Sar," Nick said gently taking her other hand. He gave it a pat and then a reassuring squeeze. "Is there anything I can do?"

She managed a half smile, more so at the question than anything. She never understood why people asked if they could do anything because really, they couldn't. No one could bring back the person who died. But she knew that he'd meant well. "No. But thanks anyway."

"What happened?" Greg asked softly.

"Died in her sleep."

"Do you want us to call someone for you? Your Dad maybe?" Warrick asked quietly.

"My Dad died when I was 12," she shook her head. "And my brother is dead too. There's no one," she said bitterly. The idea of having to go back, even for formalities such as signing the death certificate, was a little unnerving. "She was living in a nursing home -"

"Why?" Greg asked suddenly, interrupting her. He realized how rude it was to ask such a question since it was no one's business, but it just kind of rolled off his tongue before he even had a chance to think.

She quickly glanced at Grissom, who looked like he was going to yell at Greg, but she stopped him by speaking. "Uh, car accident," she said quickly. "Happened shortly after my Dad died. She's been in a coma." She glanced at Grissom again making sure that he understood that she didn't want anyone to know the truth. He understood and nodded slightly, acknowledging her silent request. While she hated lying, she couldn't not say something. They were her friends and were concerned. They only wanted to help.

"Anyway, I have to fly home this afternoon. Sign the death certificate and those kinds of things. They have a long wait list, so the faster it can be dealt with, the better."

"Take as long as you need, Sara," Grissom spoke.

"I'll be back tomorrow for shift."

"Don't push yourself," Nick said, realizing that his hand was still atop of hers, his thumb now caressing the skin on the back of her hand.

She looked at him, and wished that she could just let down the barrier and let herself cry in his embrace. "My mothers been dead for a long time, Nick. Physically, her body was there. Aging . . . " she shook her head, trying to ride herself of the images of her mother. "Mentally, she's been dead since it happened. I think I always knew that, but the doctors always told my brother and I that there was a chance . . ."

"Come on," Catherine quietly urged, standing up from the table. "I'll take you home, and make the arrangements for your flight while you pack. Take you to the airport."

"Cat," Sara started, but Catherine's look told her not to argue.

"Don't try to talk me out of it," she said firmly.

Sara smiled slightly, and nodded. Her emotions were starting to take over and the last thing she wanted was a loosing fight. She needed to get out of there. She felt Nick tightly pull her to him and pressed a kiss against her temple, telling her to call if she needed anything. Even if it was to just talk. Or cry. She remembered nodding, not trusting her voice, and gently allowing Catherine to pull her out of the booth.

She couldn't really remember much after that as Catherine put an arm around her shoulders and began leading her away. She could faintly hear the garbled sounds of her friends softly saying bye. And once the sun hit her skin, she felt Cat brush away a stray tear that had begun it's descent down her cheek.

End FLASHBACK

"Sara," Nick called softly. When she didn't respond, he looked at his friends for help. They all called out to her softly, but she still didn't respond. Nick reached out and gently brushed her hair behind her ear.

Catherine smiled lightly at the affectionate action, while Warrick silently chided Nick for doing that under such tense circumstances. Had it been a light hearted moment, he would've been teasing the two.

Sara suddenly realised that Nick was brushing hair away from her face and looked over at him. "Hmm?" she mumbled.

"What're you thinking about?" he asked quietly.

"How weird it is," she admitted. "That house was where I grew up. Good memories. Bad memories. I guess I always expected it to be there. I thought my mom would magically recover and she'd still have 'home' to go back too." She shook her head, trying to rid herself of such a ridiculous notion.

"It's a big adjustment," Catherine said, reaching forward and taking one of Sara's hands that had been absently playing with her coffee mug.

"Hey," Greg yawned, entering the break room.

"Hey," Sara cleared her throat, grateful for the distraction. She glanced at her watch, and then back at Greg. "You're late. Where ya been?"

"Ecklie called me in early. The lab was backed up and they needed some help," he answered, throwing himself down into the chair.

"Assignments," Grissom stated, walking into the room, not bothering to look up from his clip board. "Catherine, Greg -- you two are with me. We roll out in five minutes. Get your gear ready. We have a double homicide at the Tangiers. Possibly linked to the drug heist that the LVPD busted last month."

Greg nodded, standing up once again. He yawned.

"Get a coffee, we need you awake," he ordered. "Cath and I might have to send you back to the lab with some of the finds if they're still backed up as badly as they were this afternoon." He noticed the look that Greg was shooting at him. "I'm sorry. I know Ecklie had you confined in there when you could've been sleeping, but --"

"I know, I know - it's our job," mumbled.

Sara chuckled.

"Nick, Sara, Warrick - single homicide, out of town. Might be an overnight stay, so the department has booked two rooms at a motel. Victim is male, suspect is currently not co-operating with the police," he handed the sheet to Warrick with further details. "Questions?" he finally looked up, peering over his glasses.

"Let's hit it," Warrick said, standing up and dumping the remainder of his coffee into the sink and rinsing out his mug.

The three CSI's knew that any question they asked would just be responded to with a riddle.

"Good," the senior CSI nodded before turning around and heading out the door.