Title: In the Car

Author: Jeanine (jeanine@iol.ie)

Rating: PG

Pairing: Sara/Warrick

Feedback: Makes my day

Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.

Archive: At my site Checkmate () , Fanfiction.net; anywhere else, please ask.

Notes: Second in the Familiar Places series, following On the Floor. I have no earthly clue where I'm going with this, so bear with me!

***

This is a place that I've been many times before; in the car with Sara, on the way back to the lab from a crime scene. It's familiar territory, so I know what should be happening right about now. We should be talking about the case, about what we've found out so far, what our next step is. Or we might be shooting the breeze, exchanging lab gossip or plans for what we're going to do after shift.

Instead I'm driving, and we're sitting here in complete silence.

Not that I'm surprised at that. After all, we've been at any number of crime scenes together since she came to work in Vegas. And we've talked at them, we've laughed at them, we've teased one another at them. We've even fought at them, but we've never wound up kissing before.

Things were fine when we were still at the house; we were at ease with one another, loading up the car in smiling silence, and I remember thinking that this could be the start of something great. It was only when we got on the road that the air molecules in the car started to alter, the magic that had been lingering around us seeming to dissipate. I thought I was just being paranoid until I looked over at her, noticed that the smile that had been on her face when we were on the kitchen, the sparkle that had been in her eyes, had faded somewhat. It's been replaced by a slight pallor, and she's chewing her bottom lip, as if she's nervous about something. I'm more than familiar with that look, it's the same look that she gets when she's ruminating over some aspect of a case, when there's a part of a puzzle that she can't quite grasp.

She's not doing that now.

Or at least if she is, it's got nothing to do with a case.

No matter what it may have taken to get me to see her clearly, see her in this whole new light, I'd be lying if I said that I've never thought about something like this happening between the two of us. Sara, on the other hand, I'd be willing to bet, has never considered it. I may be short-sighted, but I ain't blind, and it's obvious, no matter how much I might want to pretend otherwise, that I'm not the CSI she's been dreaming about.

I am, however, her friend. I'm also the guy that kissed her a few minutes ago, made her smile like I've never seen her smile, and there are worse places for the two of us to be than that.

Even if she doesn't realise it right now.

Because I know Sara Sidle, and I'm pretty sure I know what she's thinking right about now. I also know that it can only lead to disaster, so I tell her, in a sing-song voice to take the sting out of my words, "Stop it."

From the corner of my eye, I see her head turn sharply towards me. "I'm not doing anything," she says defensively, and I glance at her quickly, giving her a look, before turning my gaze back on the road again.

"I can hear those wheels turning in your head," I tell her. "I know what you're thinking."

"Oh yeah?" It's a pure challenge, and one that I don't shrink from.

"You're probably wondering what the hell happened back in that kitchen," I say bluntly. "Wanting to know what it means, what you should do, what you should say…" I chance another glance at her, to see her staring straight ahead, her bottom lip once more being chewed. "Am I wrong?"

What seems like a long pause follows, until she expels one long breath. "No," she admits, and when I look over at her again, her eyes are filled with doubt, her voice caught somewhere between there and resolve. "We need to talk."

"No doubt. But we can't do it here."

"Then where?"

I look at the clock on the dashboard, realising as I do so that it's almost clocking off time, which makes things a little easier for us. At least we're not going to have to work with this hanging over our heads. "Shift's almost over," I tell her. "Come over to my place. We can talk there."

She nods her head, a series of quick, if not decisive looking, jerks, and her voice is equally uncertain when she says, "OK."

I don't say anything to that, because I'm just beginning to feel like we're back on an even keel, and she doesn't speak until we pull into the parking lot of the lab. In a day full of surprises, her words are another one. "I don't know where you live," she tells me, and it's the tone, more so than the words, that have me looking at her. She looks wide-eyed and unsure, and any other time I might try to tease her about that. Now however, it's anything but funny.

"I'll give you directions," I tell her, reaching into the glovebox for pen and paper, printing my address at the top, taking her through the directions as I scribble a map, making sure she knows exactly where I'm talking about. When I'm done, I hold the map out for her to take. "Know where you're going?" I ask with a smile, a joke to ease the tension, but it doesn't seem to work.

"I think so." That same unsure look is in her eyes, a tremor in her voice, and I've never heard Sara sound like that, not once in all the time I've known her.

"It's ok," I tell her as she reaches out to take the map from me, her fingers closing over mine, lingering there. "I won't get you lost." Instead of letting her hand drop, I hold it tighter, squeezing it for just a minute as I speak. A spark of something flares in her eyes, and I know she understands that I'm not just talking about directions.

"Promise?" she asks, with the ghost of a smile of her own, one that I return.

"I promise."