"Here."

Nick held the door open, and Sara stepped through with an obligatory thanks. Looking around, it amazed her how busy the place was at night. Even in a place like Las Vegas, she'd never gotten over her general perception of nighttime being sleep time. Didn't anybody else ever see it like that? As she yawned, she wondered why she was even thinking about sleep...

"Some more coffee in order, perhaps?" asked Nick cheerily.

"Perhaps," she answered. "Coffee or a line of speed."

He chuckled, but shook his head. "Never say something like that in a crime lab. Or anywhere near law enforcement."

"I was kidding."

"Yeah, I know. Someone might hear you and think you aren't, though. Especially since you're new."

At first, she was pissed at his mention of her status as a newcomer.

But she was glad she hadn't glared at him like she wanted to when the next thing he said was, "And they don't know you like I do."

"...Oh," was all she could answer with.

The lab looked like it had just received a shipment. Except the shipment was of people, and they were all working on various things. Sara winced in distaste when she saw that Ecklie, from days, was there. She checked her watch. At 4:30 in the morning, it was still WAY too early for days to be working. Unless they had a long case like she was having... But even if that WAS the case, trying to drag sympathy out of herself for Ecklie's sake was still too much for her.

Nick guided her into the break room with a hand on her back, and pulled a chair out with the other so she could sit in it. "How'd you like your coffee? Usual cream and sugar levels, or straight black?"

"Give it to me straight black," she said at once.

It had been a very long night. And she was sure she'd run out of adrenaline reserves soon. Pure coffee was needed to rectify the situation. He must've thought so too, because he didn't make a charming comment or respond with a Southern analogy... or even look up at it. She smiled when she saw that was because he was pouring himself a cup of straight coffee, as well.

"Thanks," she said when he set her cup down in front of her.

"Mm." He flopped down into the chair catty-cornered to her, and pulled the case file from seemingly nowhere. "Alright, let's take a look," he said with a weary sigh.

At a closer glance, she could see that it must've been starting to get to him, too. Far from his determined, fierce-looking self back at the hospital, he now looked at least half as bedraggled as she didn't doubt she looked. She leaned forward on the palm of her hand as he began to read from the folder. In a tone of voice that was so bleary, she took it as a confirmation.

"We need Greg to test the DNA scrapings. We need to get the autopsy results from Doc for the real Janice Kenley. We need to find Mark Kenley..." He slid the folder away with an elbow, then rubbed his eyes with both hands and sighed. "And the kids, of course. We need to find the kids. Get back to Mrs. Freila about them."

Something about that situation seemed less alarming to Sara than she thought it probably should have seemed. A man who killed his wife and niece, and attempted to kill his mother-in-law, was not to be taken lightly. But she had this feeling the boys would be fine. Not that she'd put a lot of thought into becoming a mother – as she'd told Penny, she figured she'd just never met the right father for the situation. But she was decently certain all women had the instinct, to some degree. And she was a woman, if nothing else...

Therefore, it was with a ho-hum tone that she murmured, "Hmm," as she took a sip of her straight-black coffee.

"So, if you wanna rest here, I'll take those DNA scrapings to Greg." He then got up and began to dig around in the box of remaining evidence. His eyebrows furrowed as he extracted item after item from it. "Where the hell is it?"

She drummed her fingers lightly on the side of her coffee mug in silent entertainment. Her eyes had fallen on it right away, even through the small hole in the side of the box. Adorable though Nick's irritation could be, she bit her bottom lip to keep from giggling... or laughing outright. Or worse, getting up and showing it to him.

And of course, it did turn out to be the very last thing in the box by the time he'd emptied everything else out. "There you are," he growled. "Finally. Okay, Sara, I'll be right back."

"I'll be right here," she replied, taking another strategically-timed sip of coffee...

He went out into the glass hallways, but of course didn't disappear. So she pulled the box towards her and begun to replace any of the scattered evidence bags inside it that she could reach from where she was sitting. Giggling a little as she went. Definitely a sign of sleep deprivation. She wondered briefly how long it would be before she started to imagine the evidence bags with cartoon faces on them...

Whilst returning the items to the neatly stacked position they had been in before Nick's ruffling, her eyes fell on the name "Veronique Gorsha" written in blue ink on Nick's notepad. She wondered how Brass' search for her was turning out. Or, indeed, if there was anything to learn about her. Maybe she was just a made-up name...

"Okay, Sara, we've got something!"

She looked up at the sound of Nick calling to her. He waved her over with two fingers and a much less grumpy expression on his face. She shook her head to dispel the mock-annoyance and went to join them in the DNA lab.

"You've got something?" she asked upon entering.

"Sure do," said Greg, excitedly. "A name! A name in the database! A good shot in the arm for a screwy case like this one!"

Beside her, Nick shrugged. "That's the way the game plays in a job like this one."

"We do investigate crimes," agreed Sara.

"Yeah, but you guys get to do the fun part," said Greg. "It's gotta be better than testing tubes all day."

"I don't know," said Nick, his lips jutted out both doubtfully and thoughtfully. "I've thought about down scaling to the lab a time or two... Fewer dead bodies."

Sara did a double take back to him. Had he really just said that?

"And it's easy enough work," he continued. "Wouldn't you say, Greg?"

"Uh... I don't know. It's not exactly hard, but like I said, it gets boring."

Nick shook his head, as if to dismiss Greg, and picked at the side of a desk. And Sara watched him for a moment out of the corner of her eye, hoping she was being discreet about it. But she suddenly felt a little panicky. It was hard to imagine the CSI team without Nick. But the way he was contemplating the desk's surface – with slowly softening features – told her that he had been serious. But WHY? Yes, being a CSI had it's downsides, to put it mildly... But it wasn't all THAT bad.

...Was it...? Was it, for him?

Suddenly, she wondered exactly what he did whenever he was off shift. If anything, that is... Whenever she was off, she was usually just catching up on her sleep. But maybe it wasn't that easy for Nick. Maybe the nature of the job kept him up. She thought back to how jumpy and weary he'd been after a suspect had put a gun to his chest, not too long ago, while confessing to the murder of her husband's ex-lover. Mrs. Hendler, the suspect's name had been... It seemed like Nick had really taken it to heart, and thankfully not the bullet from the weapon. Understandable if it had gotten him thinking – she knew it sure would have, had it been her. But enough to scare him off completely?

Standing before her, in the dimly lit environment of the lab at night, he seemed to transform into something... into someone, entirely different. Like she was seeing him through different eyes; through clearer ones. She noticed every detail of him – every line on his face, how bright his eyes were, how honest his expression – as much as she could see on the outside. Thinking about it, it made her feel... weak.

"Nick..."

He looked up with a snap. "What? What?"

Greg bit down on his lip, barely managing to contain the growing grin on his face.

Sara ignored him. "You can't leave CSI," she pressed on. "You're a good member of the team. We need you..."

He smiled, but only formally, it seemed. Only because such situations obligated him to. She wondered if she ought to say more...

But then, he spoke instead. "Thanks, sunshine. But you all would be just fine without my help, I'm sure–"

"–I beg to differ," she started hotly. "I would have dropped somewhere by now, if you hadn't–"

"–Sara." And his smile widened until it looked genuine, while he seemed to riddle out what to say in his head. "Thank you, but that isn't what I mean," he finally said, after a long moment. "I just mean that the team would go on without me, just fine. There's nothing I specialize in here, you know? Grissom has his bugs, Warrick's his best pal... Catherine's got her people skills, and you're... well, you're YOU. Goes without saying..."

The sudden heat rising in her cheeks told her she was blushing a deeper red than she ever had before, without needing to look into a mirror. She ducked her head a little...

"But, what do I do, you know? I, uhm... zip the evidence bags closed with a special finesse?" He threw his hands outward in emphasis. "Nothing, really. I love my job, I really do. But often, all it does is keep me up at night when it's over..."

"That's because you get so wrapped up in it," interjected Greg. "Burn out."

Sara gave Greg the most powerful death glare she could muster. That was NOT helping...

Fortunately, Nick didn't seem to buy it. "Yeah, I've heard that one a few times around here, but I've noticed something: I'm not the only one."

And he cast a flashy wink in Sara's direction that removed the glare from her face. Replacing it with a smile, and another heated blush.

"Just ask Catherine how she feels after she's worked a case involving cheaters and little girls. Ask Grissom about kids, in general." Nick clicked his tongue and batted his eyebrows once, looking at neither of them, and lost in his thought. "You'll never get home. They'll start talking, and the next thing you'll know, it's time for your next shift. But they sure do like to lecture..."

Greg didn't seem able to argue with this one. He shrugged in surrender, and reached for the results of the DNA test, as it had just beeped. While he assembled the report, Sara decided to give a little more; wrapping her arms loosely around Nick's torso, and resting her temple on the side of his arm.

"Okay! So, the DNA under your old lady's fingernails belongs to... Joel Hostings? Who the hell is Joel Hostings?"

Sara lifted her head again, and snatched the sheets of paper from Greg's hand without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes skipped over the paper, looking for the name amidst the cluster of numbers. "'Joel Hostings'," she read when she found it. "The night manager. The bastard!"

It surprised her slightly that Nick was smiling when she looked over at him. "Wow... You were right about him, Sara."

"Yeah, yeah," she afforded hastily. "That's great, Nick. We have to find him!"

"No, 'we' don't have to find him. I need to call Brass and dump something else on his workload."

"But–" she began.

"–Sara, calm down!" he interrupted, more forcefully than she'd ever heard him speak before.

She had once before thrown her hands back in submission to him, but this time she also jumped back a little, too. "Okay," she said, just as she had that once before. "Okay, all right. Fine, Nick. You're right, you're right. Sorry..."

"Good. Now... I'm gonna call Brass, tell him what we found. See if he has any other leads for us. And then, maybe... we go out and have some lunch. Er... well, yeah, I guess it would still be called lunch. We have a lunch hour on nights, don't we?"

"We do in the lab," Greg butted in. "If you were really thinking of joining me in this lonely little room..."

Sara's foot caught Greg in the shin beneath the desk. He bent over sharply and clutched at it, while she had never taken her eyes off Nick. His eyes flashed over at Greg, who was turning red in the face and clearly trying to hold back a verbal indication of the pain Sara hoped she'd inflicted. Choosing this shift to break in her new business heels had been a good idea, after all.

Nick grinned, and chuckled. "I, uh... think it would take a little bit more than that to convince me, there, Greggo."

"Uuuhhh..." he groaned in answer.

"So, while I'm calling Jim, think about where you'd like to go," said Nick to Sara. "On me, and don't worry if it's fancy."

She watched him go, dialing his phone for what felt to her like the millionth time that night. With a token wave and a smirk at Greg, she click-clacked her way out of the lab after him. But turned down the other hall to gather up their evidence and store it in a safe place.

She got the page from Doc Robbins just then. He was done with Janice Kenley's autopsy.