No More Roses

by Kristafied

Rating: M (for language and smut)

A/N: This is the second part of the Magnificent Lasagne series. This picks up literally where part one leaves off, but it is told from Sara's POV as well as Nick's. This series started after the events of Grave Danger and diverges from canon at that point to become pretty much completely AU. If you haven't read Magnificent Lasagne, this story will not make much sense.

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't have all this debt from grad school.

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Sunday Afternoon -- Sara POV

The ER was noisy, smelly, and crowded, and Sharon Lewis was handcuffed to a stretcher in the isolation room with a large, glowering uniformed officer posted just inside the door. Sharon's forearm was bandaged and a small amount of blood had soaked through the gauze. She was scratching at her scarred skin and studiously avoiding eye contact with the cop. Sara glanced at Sharon, then the officer, then back to Brass. "What's with Sanderson?"

Brass grinned. "The nurse she took a swing at was Sanderson's fiancée. He showed up two hours early for shift just for this."

Sara smirked, singing, "It's a small world after all..."

Brass shook his head. "Don't quit your day job, kid." As they entered the small examining room, his demeanor hardened. "Sharon Lewis?" The woman nodded, her unkempt braids falling into her face. "Are you the mother of Karen Lewis?"

Sharon's posture morphed from cowed to indignant. "Aw, man, what's that little pain in my ass got herself into now? That girl ain't been nothin' but trouble her whole damn life."

"Well, she may not be a pain in anyone's ass anymore." Sara could tell Sharon had hit a sore spot with Brass by the way he went straight to the autopsy photo of Karen's dessicated face. "Is this your daughter?" He had to jump to avoid the stream of vomit as Sharon turned her head to the side and pushed the photo away with her unbound hand. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Put it away!" Sharon leaned her head back against the stretcher, eyes tightly closed. Sara grimaced at the smell and gestured for Sanderson to get someone to clean up the vomit. Sharon's voice was ragged. "What the hell happened to her?"

Sara jumped in. "That's what we're trying to figure out, Ms. Lewis. When did you see your daughter last?"

"I dunno. It's been a few weeks. She comes and goes, and I," Sharon's eyes met Sara's and she shrugged, "I don't pay her much mind. The state took her away last year, but I got into a rehab program and they brought her back. I figured they'd come for her again since I been usin'. The school sent a letter a few months ago that she was skippin' class, so I just figured they called the state again."

Sara's jaw was clenched. "Did you talk to anyone from Child Services? Did anyone attempt to contact you about Karen? Any letters or phone calls? Any indication that she'd been placed in a foster or group home?"

Sharon shrugged again. "Not that I know of. I'm not really around much, and last time I went by my apartment my bitch landlord had dumped my shit out by the curb, so I been staying with my boyfriend for a few weeks."

Sara's eye twitched, and she felt her hand go to her holster. Brass interrupted before Sara could open her mouth. "By boyfriend, I assume you mean Big Mike, your dealer?"

"He's my boyfriend, he takes care of me."

"Yeah, he's a prince among men." Brass responded dryly. "Where was Karen the last time you saw her?"

Sharon pursed her lips. "You believe that damn kid came down to Big Mike's to look for me? Screamin' about how we been evicted and where she gonna go. I told her she's a big girl now, figure it out for herself. When I was her age, I was on my own. Anyway, Big Mike said he'd take care of it. He took her back downstairs and I ain't seen her since."

Sara was leaning over the stretcher, her face inches from Sharon's. "She was twelve years old. How exactly did you think she'd get by on her own? And what do you think Big Mike meant when he said he'd 'take care of it'?" She felt Brass' hand grab her belt loop and pull her back, but maintained her eye contact with Sharon until the woman looked away.

Brass gathered the rest of the particulars. Sara recognized Big Mike's address as the crack house where Karen's body had been found. She plunged one fist into her jeans pocket and gripped her kit tightly to stop her hands from shaking as she stalked ahead of Brass out of the ER.

Brass looked her up and down. "When's the last time you got any sleep, kid?"

Her last nap had been on the couch in the break room. Where she'd kissed Grissom. A bitter, half-hysterical laugh huffed out between her lips. Brass folded his arms. "That long, eh? Go home and sleep. We'll check with Child Services, pick up Big Mike, and get a warrant to search our Mother of the Year's old apartment. I'll talk to the landlord about when she evicted them, see if the timeline matches up. By the time you wake up, we'll be ready for you to process."

Sara opened her mouth to protest, but Brass waved his cell phone at her. "Go home, or I'll call in the big guns."

She grunted and headed for her car.

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Sunday night -- Nick's POV

Nick unglued his eyelids, pried open his mouth, and lifted his throbbing head off the pillow. He was still dressed in his clothes from the day before, although he'd managed to kick off his boots before succumbing to the Gods of Horizontal. Grabbing the glass of stale water on his bedside table, he chugged it and finished pulling himself upright. It was only eight o'clock; why the hell was he awake?

The timid knock on his front door repeated itself, answering his question. Nick fumbled through his living room and pulled the door open, revealing Sara Sidle in old sweats and ragged sneakers, her eyes red and her hands shaking. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I couldn't sleep. That woman..." She ran her hands over her face, digging her knuckles into her eyes so deeply that Nick winced. "She was just... awful."

Nick's chivalry kicked in and he pulled Sara off the front stoop and into the house, towing her silently through the living room and into his bathroom, where he parked her on the closed toilet seat and started the shower before grabbing his toothbrush and scouring out his swamp-like mouth. Sara's expression had gone from despondent to puzzled to amused by the time they'd completed their brief journey and he'd spit and rinsed.

Shelving his toothbrush, Nick knelt in front of Sara, took her face in his hands, and kissed her thoroughly. When she was sufficiently glass-eyed, he stood and pulled off his shirt, tugged her to her feet and divested her of her shirt and bra, then backed up so they could each remove their own pants. He stepped under the warm spray of water and reached out his hand for her to join him. He molded her body to his own, tucked her head against his neck, and swayed them gently back and forth until he felt her relax. "Do you want to talk about it, darlin'?"

He felt her smile against his shoulder. "I thought I did, but now I think I just want to stay like this for a while."

Nick mentally patted himself on the back as he turned his head to kiss her wet hair. "We can stay like this forever if you want – or at least as long as my hot-water tank holds out." She squeezed her arms around his back and chuffed out a tired laugh.

Forever turned out to be about fifteen minutes before the cooling water woke them both from a standing doze. Nick helped her stumble past the curtain, gave himself a quick rinse, and twisted the knobs to off. They toweled themselves haphazardly and trudged across the hall to Nick's bedroom, where they collapsed into a tangle of warm, clean limbs and Nick pulled the quilt over them. He fell asleep to the rhythmic sound of Sara's breathing and her hair dampening his pillow.