Disclaimer:  The characters are not mine. 

Also, the quote Sara repeated to Nick was from Dale Carnegie.

Special Thanks:  Jen(thanks for noticing!  and thanks for the review!), Sara Sidle Stokes(nice name by the way ;-p), Mia(Thanks for reading my story and taking the time to review!), MissyJane(Aww, thanks hun!), cRaZyPiXiE(taste good?), pdhtgal(thanks sweetie), CindyRyan(yeah, I was glad to see I finally updated as well…took me too darn long with that one), undacoveragent9(I'm glad to see a new name appear on the review page, thanks!), PassionatePapist(I honestly look forward so much to your little dialogue between these great characters and yourself *she also sent one for chapter 9 which unfortunately never made it to the review page, only to my e-mail*  Thanks for your hilarious review…I cracked up while reading it!  Keep 'em coming!), Pam(Your words really encouraged me, thanks so much!), dudette(haha, keep your eyes peeled), and last but not least Lynn(No, thank YOU for writing… *a review that is* ;-) )

Dealing: Chapter Twelve!

********

The diner's menu was about four pages long, a fact that Sara was grateful for as she sat across from Nick, pretending to be distracted by the menu's lengthiness.  They had not said more than three words to each other since settling in at the restaurant.

Sara was trying hard to concentrate on the words, to decipher which dinner special appealed to her the most so when the waitress came to take her order she didn't look like a stuttering idiot.  But at that moment, Sara wasn't thinking much about food.  Her focus was, of course, on her partner.

            I can do this, Sara thought.  I can have a meal with my partner and discuss important case details.  It was only natural they do.  Brainstorming cases with partners after hours was an unspoken necessity that came along with their job.  And Sara truly did want to discuss the case more, partner to partner.  Yet while driving to the diner, Sara was more than a little apprehensive at the thought of her and Nick alone together, sharing a table and holding conversation. 

            Ever since the day before Sara wondered if it was truly possible to be nothing more than case partners with Nick.  After their heated argument, she had decided to build a wall in their relationship, promising herself she would never cross the line from professional to personal with him ever again.  That line had already been crossed before, and it turned out to be a huge mistake with drastic effects.  Maybe she had reacted rather harshly to Nick after the whole ordeal, especially with her spoken words to him, yet he had hurt her.  Truly hurt her.  More deeply so than she had been hurt in a long time.

She had already promised herself that day that she would not let her feelings for Nick get in the way of her really paying attention to her work.  She'd be glad when she would be able to see past her "Nick drama," which consisted mainly of realizing that she and Nick having the potential of a real relationship was an impossible fantasy.  Nick was a womanizer, plain and simple.  And Sara obviously wasn't able to change that.

But now she wondered how realistic it was to think that she and Nick could be mere partners and nothing more.  She was friends with Warrick, Catherine, and Grissom, or at least she would like to think so.  It just somehow made it easier to be friends with those who she worked with, it allowed them to connect with each other's thoughts as each case presented itself to them.  It couldn't hurt to be at least friends with Nick, she thought.  She couldn't expect for them to not be friends.

            So being friends was something she was going to try and work at with him.

            Friends it will have to be, she told herself.

Nick's eyes flicked up from his menu, already having established his burger and fries dinner selection.  Sara appeared to be reading—no, studying—the menu, as he noticed that she had been on the same page since they arrived.  He couldn't suppress a chuckle.

            Sara looked up, squinting her eyes at him.  "What?"

            "Oh, nothing.  I've just never seen someone so intently focused on a menu before.  You memorizing it for future take-outs or something?"  He grinned.

            If you only knew, Sara thought to herself.  If you only knew what I was really focused on.

            "I'm just trying to make the right selection here.  I take my meals very seriously."  She teased and dropped her gaze back to the menu. 

            Good…teasing was good, she thought.  Friends tease.

            "So what'll it be?"  The waitress appeared from around the corner with a notepad and pen in hand.

            Nick nodded towards Sara. 

            "Uh, do you offer breakfast specials for dinner?"  She inquired.

            "24 hours a day, seven days a week." 

            "Great.  I'll have the pancake trio.  And can you make my eggs scrambled please?"

            "Sure thing.  What about you, honey?"  The lady turned to Nick, whose mouth had turned up into a crooked smile.

            "I'll have the same."  He closed his menu and handed it to her.  "Except make my eggs a little runny." 

            Wriggling his eyebrows at Sara, Nick stretched his arms out behind him and leaned backwards.  "Breakfast for dinner.  It's a favorite of mine." 

            Sara leaned forward, letting her elbows rest on the table.  "Don't worry," She said in a low voice.  "I won't tell anyone that you're a copycat."

            "Good.  You had me worried for a second there."  He mock sighed, pleased at the light-heartedness of their conversation, at the way it was going so far.  Sara settled back in her seat, allowing the noisiness of the diner—the numerous conversations and clanging dishes—to distract her momentarily.  She began thinking again about Randy McMasters and wondered if he had the potential to endanger Connie's children.  Of course he has the potential, Sara, he savagely murdered a person. The potential is obviously there.

            Nick watched Sara while her mind was at work.  She apparently didn't see him studying her, for she continued to flick her eyes around as if searching for something in her thoughts.  Finally he reached over and tapped on her water glass with his fork.  "What's up?"

"Where do you think he is?"  She asked suddenly, as if a previous discussion from earlier that day concerning their case had not ended.

"He who?"

"McMasters."

Nick sucked in a breath of air and leaned back in the cushioned seat.  "Who knows.  Probably halfway across the country by now."

She shook her head in frustration. "I'm so ready to close this case, you know?"

"Tell me about it.  It just sucks that we don't have enough evidence to convict this guy already.  Everyone's sure he did it, the evidence leads to him…just the fact that he's still missing seals everything in my mind."

Sara shrugged. "Well, it's not our job to find him.  It's our job to provide the proof that will get him locked away for good."

"I know.  It's just that….sometimes I feel like we've already done everything we can possibly do.  I don't know why, but I just feel sort of helpless right now." 

Sara nodded silently.  Neither spoke for several moments.

"I remember my psychology teacher in high school once used the saying, 'Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.'" She shrugged before continuing. "And as simple and cliché as that sounded, it kind of motivated me and has stuck with me ever since." 

Nick raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly as if really allowing the words to sink in.  "Man, the only thing I remember about my high school Psych teacher is that he had a beard down to his waist."

Sara grinned. "Sounds scary." 

"…And his name was Mr. Ziggenrat.  Seriously."

"Wow."  Sara's eyes were bright while she giggled.   Nick laughed as well.  He then searched Sara's face.  Biting his lip, his expression drew serious.

"You know, I'm really liking this…"

Sara paused.  "What are you really liking?"  She hesitatingly asked, afraid of already knowing his answer.

"This."  He spoke softly.  "Being here with you.  Laughing with you."

Sara self-consciously drew her hand up to the back of her neck, massaging it.  Nick noticed her sudden uneasiness and leaned forward.

"Is it okay that I said that?"  He whispered, his voice low and sexy.

"Well, ye—yeah, I mean…well…"  Sara cleared her throat, embarrassed by her lack of ability to form a clear response.  "Actually, it's probably not—."

"Listen, I don't expect anything from you.  You don't owe me anything, but Sara, you've gotta understand what really happened the other day."  Nick's voice pleaded.  In his mind he didn't care how Sara would react to his explanation at that moment.  She needed to know the truth.

Shaking her head repeatedly, Sara would not meet Nick's stare.

"Sara, what you saw at the café," He shook his head as he spoke.  "It truly was not what you might have thought it was.  The girl—Heather—I knew her from high school.  I actually dated her for two years—,"

Sara lifted her hand, frowning.  "Listen, you don't—,"

"No."  There was something in his tone that grabbed Sara's attention.  "Hear me out.  She lives back home in Texas and was visiting the city for an interview with this huge law firm, which…which really is besides the point."  He paused and took a deep swallow.  "Sara, the truth is, she came on to me.  What you saw was her making a pass at me.  What you apparently didn't see was me rejecting it."  Sara eye's connected with his pleading stare. "I left right after.  I told her she had it all wrong, and then I left."

Sara didn't respond, nodding silently to herself as she returned her gaze to her folded hands in her lap.

"I'm sorry you had to see that.  I can't imagine what it would have been like if the situation was reversed…what it would've felt like to see you…"  Sara slowly drew her gaze back to Nick as he spoke.  "To see you kissing another guy."  He finished. 

Sara blinked.  She was speechless…and scared.  Nick had just told her everything she had been wanting to hear.  Yet now, she wasn't so sure what to do with the information.  For a long time, Sara simply stared at him.  Then her demeanor turned antsy, all of a sudden having no idea what to do with her hands.  She fidgeted with her glass, spinning it around on the table, and then brought her hands to her lap, wringing them together.  In her heart Sara wanted to embrace everything that Nick just confessed, putting their shaky history behind them and starting fresh.  Yet there was a little voice, a voice of past experience that whispered vindictively in her head, warning her, telling her to pull back…to not trust. 

Nick parted his lips slightly, staring at Sara, anticipating what she was going to say.  He wondered if he even wanted her to reply, for fear she'd say things he didn't want to hear.

            Unable to stand the silence any longer, Nick leaned forward before speaking up.  "Listen," He lowered his voice dramatically, as if sharing with her a secret.  "Like I already said, you don't owe me anything.  I know we already made it clear that we need not confuse our professional relationship with anything other than what it is—strictly platonic, nothing more.  I just needed you to know that I hadn't meant to hurt you." Nick flashed a sad smile. 

            Sara pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, then slowly reached out and gently placed her hand on Nick's arm.  "Nick…"  Her eyes were dark and mysterious. 

            Suddenly a noise—loud, musical notes—interrupted her thoughts.  It was Nick's cell phone.  It went through every note of the annoyingly electronic version of the William Tell overture.  It paused momentarily, then started again, yet Nick's eyes remained focused on Sara. 

            She nodded towards him.  "Uh…you're—you're cell phone…"

            "What?"

            "It's ringing."

            "Yeah." 

"Are you going to answer it?"

            "No."  He replied, pretending like he wasn't hearing it.  Fellow diner's irritatingly peered over at him as the ringing notes continued to drown out their conversations.

            "Ok, you need to answer that."  Sara spoke adamantly. 

            Nick let out a frustrated sigh, angry at the interruption, and then quickly reached to his belt to grab his flip phone.  "Stokes." 

            Sara listened to his side of the conversation.

            "Uh, huh.  Yeah.  Well, no."  His face dropped.  "Yeah sure.  County landfill.  Got it.  I'll be there as soon as I can."  Locking eyes with Sara, he flipped his cell phone shut and gave her a distressing look.  "It was Grissom."

            "Oh?"

            "I have to leave." 

            Sara nodded understandingly.  She knew that Grissom wouldn't have called for Nick's help unless it was absolutely necessary.  Yet she was quite perturbed that she had not received a call as well requesting her immediate services.

            "I'm so sorry.  He's down two CSIs tonight.  He needs my assistance."  He lolled his head to the side.  "Rain check?"

            "Definitely."

            "Alright."  He slid his body out of the booth.  "Thanks, Sara.  I'll call you later."  He gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulder and then headed out the diner.

            Sara sighed to herself and then motioned to the waitress.  "I'm sorry.  Cancel our orders please.  Something came up."  The waitress nodded and turned back to the kitchen.  Man, she thought, I was really looking forward to those eggs.

*********

            "You've ruined me, McGregor.  For that I can never forgive you."

            "Oh, Rebecca.  Must I forever live in this torturous life without your face?"

            "I said I wouldn't forgive you.  But I will always love you."

            "Oh puhlease."  Sara cringed and quickly clicked off her television set as the two soap opera type lovers were embraced in a passionate kiss.  "Who actually talks like that?"  Sara tossed the remote aside, sighing as she realized she was once again speaking to herself.  What to do, what to do, Sara wondered as she got up from her couch and roamed her apartment. 

            She moseyed her way to her small kitchen and clicked on the radio as she began running the water in the sink.  Might as well do something productive, she thought, glancing at a small stack of dirty dishes.  Humming along to the radio tunes, Sara began thinking about her dream from the previous night.  She hadn't given it much thought all day.  The sun's fluorescent rays making her nightmare less significant in the daylight, she had quickly forgotten about it.  But now, at ten-thirty p.m., an eerie feeling creeped over her as the threat of the nightmare intensified in looming darkness. 

Her neighbor's wind chimes clanged noisily all evening declaring an unstable, windy night. 

            Suddenly weariness diffused through her entire body as she sank her hands into the warm, soapy liquid.  I wish I could get some peaceful sleep for once.  Yet sleep brought nightmares, so staying awake seemed the much more appealing option to her.  She thought of Connie Trevorson's distorted image, and her mind wandered to Randy McMasters again.  She shivered at the thought of him, her heart thumping a little harder as she replayed images of a man savagely murdering Connie—breaking her ribs with a crowbar and then slitting her throat. 

 She briefly considered checking the yellow pages again, remembering Nick's words last week about seeking professional help to push her in the right direction, to get her back in the right frame of mind.  No, she reconsidered, remembering Catherine's advice to take each day one day at a time, claiming that "slowly but surely" her nightmares and panic will dissolve.  I just need to take it easy.  Stop worrying about everything.  She nodded determinedly, rinsing off a plate.

            Sara's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an abrupt knock at her door.  She jumped involuntarily, and then caught her breath as she peered over at her kitchen clock again.  Her pulse was unsteady, her mind already shaken up by images of her dream and the fear of a murderous psycho on the loose.  Who could be knocking at my door this late?

            Slowly wringing her dripping hands together, she swallowed hard and calmed herself down.  She finished wiping her hands off on her jeans as she made her way over to her door.  Peeking through the small window, she saw Nick. 

            "Can I come in?"  His voice was muffled through the oak wood.

            "Hey."  She greeted him, opening the door.  He held up one of several bags.

            "Come on in."  She moved out of the way for him and he strode over to the kitchen, placing the bags on the counter. 

Sara met up with him and peered into one of the bags.  "Is this for me?"

"No.  I brought all these bags of dinner over to your place and am going to eat it all myself." 

Sara rolled her eyes at his sarcasm.

"Of course it's for you, and me.  Sort of like a peace offering after rudely cutting short our dinner."

"That wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, well…"  His words trailed off.  "Have you already eaten?" 

"I grabbed a handful of mints on my way out of the diner earlier.  That's about it."  She softly chuckled.

"Good."  Nick pulled out several containers of Chinese food, and sat them on the counter.  Sara grabbed two bar stools, pushing them up against the ledge, and then snatched a couple of cokes from her fridge, placing them next to Nick's set-up.  "It's not pancakes and eggs.  Unfortunately, the diner doesn't do breakfast take-out."

"It's quite alright.  I love Chinese.  Plus, I'm so hungry right now, you could have brought over a bowl of anchovies and I would have graciously eaten them." 

"Really?  Because the thought crossed my mind…I love anchovies."  Nick joked, opening his box of fried rice.

"Gross."  Sara cringed, smiling.

"When I was younger, I had to order an anchovy pizza; it was the outcome of losing a dare with my friends.  It turned out I actually liked the pizza, anchovies and all.  My friends were grossed out, not to mention pretty ticked."  Nick smirked.  They sat side by side, digging in to their delicious carry-out, not remotely caring how neat they were in front of each other.

"Well, this was a nice surprise.  I really did not expect you at my door when I heard the knock."  Sara spoke, swallowing a mouth full of noodles.  "How did the scene inspection go with Grissom?"

"Eh.  Nothing extraordinary.  Just another unimaginative killer dumping a body at the county landfill."  Nick replied.  It was a sad reality that it was not the first time they had investigated a body dumped there.

Sara finished as much as her stomach could handle, and then some, and after cleaning up her area, she shuffled over to the couch, plopping down in the cushions.  She sat there, facing Nick who was still nibbling on his last egg roll.  He was amazed how huge his appetite, even after being a nervous wreck while on the way over to Sara's.  Her reaction to his surprise visit, however, couldn't have gone better. 

"So, what do you think about the whole torn shirt thing?"  Nick questioned, referring to their case.  He finished his last bite, and dumping the remains of his food in the trash, made his way over to Sara.

"I'm not exactly sure."  She replied in thought.

Because there was only one couch in her living room, Nick plopped next to Sara, yet remembering her uneasy reaction to his words earlier that day in the café, made a comfortable distance between them.

"You know what I think?"  Nick asked, eyes determined.

"Shoot."

"Okay….lets say that you're a construction worker, dating this woman…"

Sara raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"For hypothetical reasons just follow me here…"  He added to her reaction.  "Okay, so you're a construction worker and you go to the woman's house to see her after work one day.  You are all gross and grungy, and you want to take a shower at her place.  What do you ask for?"

Sara followed his thinking and replied, "A change of clothes."

"Exactly, and considering the woman previously lived with her husband and would probably have some of his clothes still with her, she would give him what?"

"One of his old shirts."  She nodded, kicking herself for not thinking of it earlier.  "So, it's more than likely that Randy would probably have some of Frank's old work shirts.  I mean, especially considering Frank left all of the yellow ones with her."  She sighed, surprisingly amazed at this revelation.  Then, with a mischievous look in her eye, she turned sideways to Nick.  "So, when exactly did you start pointing the finger from Frank to Randy?  If I recall correctly, you weren't so gung-ho about admitting Randy was the probable suspect here."  She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Hey," He held up his hands.  "I never assume things.  Once the evidence started coming together was when I started looking in Randy's direction.  I'm not saying Frank's one hundred percent clear, but as of right now, all arrows point to McMasters." 

            She nodded, satisfied with his answer, and leaned back against the cushions.  Nick studied her slumped shoulders and puffy eyes, truly worrying once again about her sleep conditions. 

            To his surprise, Sara turned to Nick and smiled warmly.  "So, I believe we left some things unsettled earlier at the diner." 

            In response, Nick raised his eyebrows.  "Um, yeah, I guess so."  He replied softly, resting his head back in the same way hers was.

            "I'm really glad that you cleared things up for me.  And I'm so sorry for overreacting at the lab yesterday…"

            "No.  No, don't apologize.  Like I said, I don't know what I would've done…"  He looked past her and stared into space.

            She nodded. 

            "But, um, like you said…our kiss didn't mean anything to you anyways, so…"  He left his words hanging in mid air, looking for a reaction.

            She slowly shook her head.  "That was me reacting defensively to what I saw.  You know I didn't mean it."

            Nick couldn't help but let out a heavy breath and grin.  "I'm glad to hear that." 

            "But…"

            "But?"

            "I don't know," She looked back at him.  "I mean, realistically speaking, could this honestly work?  You and me involved outside the lab?"

            "I guess we'll never know until we try…right?"  His voice was just above a whisper.

            She stretched her legs out in front of her and ran her hands through her hair, deep in thought.  She seemed a little distracted, probably from the heavy sleep lingering over her, Nick reasoned.  He noticed how her eyelids occasionally drooped from fatigue.               Instinctively, he reached over and cupped the side of her face, brushing his thumb up and down her cheek.  "How are you doing, Sara?  Are you getting any sleep at all these days?"  He asked softly, compassionately. 

            She closed her eyes and shrugged slowly.  "Not so much, no."

            "Nightmares still?"

            She nodded.    

            "I could stay over.  I could be here with you…"

            Sara inwardly cowered.  She wasn't sure about their potential, but she was sure she didn't want to throw herself out there so soon again.  It's too soon, Sara.  As tempting as it sounded to let his presence fight away her nightmares, she knew she needed to give it more time before they had another "night" together. 

            She gave him a look, a silent communication that Nick seemed to read perfectly. 

            Understanding that it wasn't the greatest idea he stay overnight he fingered her hair briefly before taking his hand back.  "Or I could get you a day off tomorrow.  I already talked to Grissom about it last week, I'm sure—," 

            It took a moment before the words registered in Sara's mind.  Frowning, she reared back, narrowing her eyes at Nick.  "Wait, you talked to Grissom about what last week?"

            Nick, seeing her quick change in demeanor, stumbled over his words.  "Well, I, uh, I mentioned something about you not being able to sleep well recently."

            "You told him about my dreams?  I told you all that in confidence, Nick."  She clenched her jaw, still worn out from fatigue, yet allowing the anger to rise in her throat.

            Nick was shaking his head repeatedly.  "Sara, I didn't say anything about your dreams.  He just came up to me and asked me a few questions about you—about your unusual behavior in the lab recently.  I only told him that maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea if you took a little time off, considering you've been a little sleep deprived."

            "I can't believe you guys talked about that—that you felt the need to discuss my sleeping habits behind my back.  I haven't been slacking; I haven't been giving any less than my usual around the lab…"  She argued, her words trailing off as she searched through her thoughts, growing angrier by the second.  Nick didn't speak for a moment, hoping to somehow allow the time to calm Sara's overreaction.  Can't she see that I'm just trying to help her?    

            The wind chimes fiercely clanged outside, making anything but beautiful music.

            "I just don't understand…"  Sara shook her head slowly to herself, looking into her lap. 

            Nick placed a gentle hand on hers.  She quickly pulled away. 

            "No."  Her voice sounded wounded, hurt.

            Nick threw his hands up in the air in aggravation, allowing her reaction to jolt him up from the couch.  Standing upright, looking down at Sara, he was anything but calm.  "So, that's how it's going to be, huh?"

*********

A/N: Yes'm.  The cliffhanger is back.  Will Sara have some sense knocked into her?  Will Nick storm out of the apartment?  Hmmm, tune in next time…er…check in SOON for another update of "Dealing."  Just to give you all a little heads up, I'm heading towards my conclusion somewhat in the near future.  Who know how many more chapters there will be….four?  five?  three?  *shrugs* We'll see.  Anyways, I'd be greatly obliged if you responded with a review!  Here are a few little quotes to chew on before signing off the page:

"The spirited horse, which will try to win the race of its own accord, will run even faster if encouraged."—Ovid

"Appreciation can make a day - even change a life. Your willingness to put it into words is all that is necessary."—Margaret Cousins