The first draft wasn't a Nick/Sara fanfic, but I re-wrote it a bit since I'm such a Snicker fan. First CSI fanfic so be nice.
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or the characters.
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Start with one bullet
Almost two years ago:
"But if he was standing there he had to have been pushed to fall over the reeling, no way he just fell over it on his own.", Warrick was standing with his arms crossed by the evidence table; he was looking at the photos and evidence Sara had collected from the case she was working on involving a man who had fallen from a seven story balcony with his suitcase into the shrubbery below. She had been hanging over the table wracking her brain for several hours and not really getting anyway.
"So maybe he wasn't alone, maybe…", Warrick began but was interrupted by Sara sighing loudly, "Everything I collected at the scene tells us he was alone, unless you know something I don't?"
"Stuck?", said Catherine from the door, "Your prints came up as a Daniel McAvie, earlier convicted for arson".
Looking at the folder Catherine threw it in front of them on the table, Warrick's expression went from intrigued to gloat as he turned to Sara, "Still think he wasn't alone?"
"Which prints are these?" Sara said in disbelief as he took a closer look at the file. "From the suitcase" Catherine answered as she left the room.
"So he's having a dispute with this Daniel person and the guy throws the suitcase at him making him topple over the reeling of the balcony, that's no accident", Sara said thinking out loud looking at the photo where the victim had landed.
"Yeah, throwing suitcases shows you mean business", Warrick laughed finding it all a bit comical.
"If you'll excuse me Warrick, I have to call Brass and go arrest a Mr. McAvie".
Sara smiled as she headed to the parking lot; it always felt good when you got a break in any case. And who knows, maybe later she can get started on a new case before she hits overtime.
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Almost two years later:
Nick POV
"You're driving way to slow! We're in a hurry, step on it!", Sara was stressed and he knew it but the weather wasn't on their side tonight, it was raining heavily and showed no sign of clearing up soon, but he only laughed at her lack of patience, "Love to but I would rather we arrive in one piece if you don't mind".
The crime scene was at an apartment complex off of Deermount street, Vega was waiting for them outside the apartment. "You took your time?", he said as he held out an umbrella.
"Well Nick drives like a ninety-five year old grannnie", she smiled at him, Nick gladly took her teasing, it was one of the joys of working with her.
Walking under the umbrella Vega filled them in on the situation; "One dead in the bedroom, stabbed twice. The coroners have been here already so it's all clear, and no witnesses. The deceased name is William Levin, aged 34, lived alone."
"Thanks."
Nick and Sara stepped into the small apartment, it was obvious there had been a struggle, a broken chair and glass shatters lay on the floor in the living room.
"Ok, you take the chair and I'll look at the glass", she practically ordered as she opened her kit.
"Whatever you say boss", smiling as Sara replied by sticking her tongue out at him,
"Mature Sara", he mumbled with a wide smile as he bent down next to the chair.
Several minutes of silence went by as he and Sara went on processing. The broken chair had blood on it and he collected small wood chips off the floor. He glanced over at Sara, she was picking up all the pieces of glass, a grin crossed his face, she looked so concentrated and totally in to what she was doing. He enjoyed her company on cases, they joked about everything, it somehow lightened up the morbid atmosphere and he always had a constant smile when with her.
"Nick, a little assistance?", he quickly snapped out of his thoughts and walked over to her side, she had finished picking up and bagging the glass and was now holding some sticky paper in the air. "I found some kind of dust here on the floor, but the sticky paper ripped, could you get e new one?". He looked a bit closer and saw some white specks on the sticky paper, but the back where you stick the paper back on to lay in two pieces.
"What would you do without me?" he chuckled as he got up and headed out.
The rain was still being stubborn and continued raining bucket loads. He opened the boot of his Denali and picked up some more sticky paper, also getting things so they could begin dusting for prints.
Closing the car and heading back he saw a bright light and heard the sound of a large explosion, he ducked and threw himself back behind the car. People were shouting and running around panicking. Nick got up and looked from were he had heard the sound, a car just a few feet away stood in flames and pieces of debris lay around it. Dropping the paper and dust he was still holding he rushed forward together with officers to help those injured.
He looked around, scanning the people to see if Sara was there or still inside.
Paramedics patched up the worsted injured, nothing serious. Nick took a closer look at the now extinguished car; could there be a connection between the dead body and this? Perhaps this was an attempt to scare away the police.
"Paramedics! Officer down!"
Nick spun around; a police officer was running back up the stairs to the apartment with the paramedics rushing towards him. Nick's mind was in slow motion. No, she was safe; she was sitting in the apartment waiting for him to come back with the paper. Realizing he was standing still he set off up the stairs and ran flat out to the apartment, not sure on what he was about to see. But there she was, Sara, on the floor covered in blood, her blood. She wasn't moving, he made an attempt to go to her, but someone held him back. Someone he didn't know, he didn't really hear them say that they should give the paramedics some room, his brain was stuck on the sight of Sara slumped against the blood splattered wall.
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Sara's POV on what just happened
"God he looks good in jeans", she thought for her self as he left the apartment to get some more sticky paper.
She shook her head, "Focus!".
She agreed with Grissom on one point, relationships within the team would only make things awkward and complicated for everyone. But that didn't mean she couldn't look, but oh did she want to do more than just look though.
"He's so slow…if for once in his life he could...", she jumped when she heard the explosion.
Not caring about ruining the evidence on the paper, she dropped it and got to her feet, what's going on out there? She stood in the doorway to the apartment and saw the big flames dancing around what used to be a car.
"Nick!", panic struck in her heart, the car is over there somewhere. She took a step forward to wards the stairs but someone grabbed her arm and pulled her backwards.
Her mind didn't register the quick change of pace, "Hey, what are you doing!", she tried pulling her arm out of their grip. She was pushed back into the apartment and shoved onto the floor.
"Shut up!" a mans voice yelled at her, she looked up at the person who was closing the door behind him yet holding a gun aimed at her. She didn't understand why this was happening, not getting up in case she startled him she crawled backwards up against the wall. Looking left and right to see any way to escape, no where to flee, she was trapped. Her hand to her belt she realized her gun wasn't there, glancing at her kit on the other side of the room she saw the holster pointing out of the top of her open kit, shit.
"Goodbye Miss. Sidle".
Now her mind had caught up and realising what he was going to do she threw herself to the side.
The pain was intense; the bullet had hit her shoulder. Her vision became blurry, filled with tears she looked for the gun man, she saw him run into the next room. Listening for his footsteps and hoping he wasn't coming back to finish her off.
Holding her hand on her wound she tried to sit up, but she felt the strength leaving her body and she slowly fell into a black nothing-ness.
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Ok, if someone actually is reading this and wants to read the next chapter I want at least 3 reviews, since there's no use posting more if no one's reading right.