HOUSE OF CARDS

Disclaimer: As we've already established, I don't own anything you recognise. I should also tell you that I know very little about counselling or the wider world of law enforcement - much of what's contained in this and other chapters is the product of some murky corner of my mind combined with various impressions from books and TV shows. Everything I'm writing about could be completely off. Just so you know.

Kim Bolton was enjoying a well-deserved rest, complete with cup of coffee. Just as she'd leaned back in her chair and put her feet up on the desk, someone knocked on the door. She returned to a respectable position and called to the person to come in.

"Hi, Kim."

"David. Hi." Kim gestured the Internal Affairs officer into a seat.

"What can you tell me about Sara Sidle and Nick Stokes, Kim?"

Kim looked longingly at her coffee. "I'm happy to have Nick back in the field on Monday. I'll see him again, but he's holding up fairly well. He's got good coping strategies - he's had to have them. You know this isn't the first time he's had a gun at his head. He knows me well enough now not to hold back and I'm pretty sure he's dealing with this all right. I barely scratched the surface with Sara, but I'll tell you I don't think you've got a valid case in saying she fired because she saw Nick in danger. She would have done the same for anyone."

"I know," David conceded. "But that's one of the reasons we discourage workplace relationships. It can impair people's judgement. The press have been fairly quiet about this shooting, but if news got out about their relationship..." He shrugged. "It just doesn't look good, and we need the people of Las Vegas to have total confidence in everyone associated with law enforcement. I don't need to tell you that the Sheriff is aiming for total transperancy - particularly as he's seeking re-election."

"I know what you're saying, but I really don't think you've got a case against Sara at all. That's just my opinion, though, and I'm certainly not a legal expert."

"I don't want to have a case against anyone. They're good people. But once I started looking at their files, I came across all kinds of breaches of regulation that seem to have gone unpunished. I know there's no such thing as black and white, cut and dried situations, but there are members of that team who have made mistakes that killed people, and they haven't faced the required sanctions. I need to find out what's going on on that shift, Kim. I know they're getting results, but law enforcement must be seen to be solid and honest. This is all far too murky, and someone's got to clear it all up."

"That's true." Kim took a sip of her rapidly cooling coffee, wishing she could enjoy it in peace, but knowing that that was highly unlikely.

"All right," said David after a few moments. "About Sara and the rape cases..." His voice trailed off and he looked uncomfortably down at the floor. "I need to know if she's jeopardising her ability to work rape cases objectively."

"We didn't get to that. I'm seeing her again tomorrow."

David rubbed his forehead. "Okay. All I need to know is whether she can handle rape cases without bias. I don't need to know what's going on. It's none of my business and none of the department's business. Just - well, I'm glad dealing with that sort of thing is up to you."

"Thanks," Kim said dryly. She wasn't looking forward to pushing Sara on the rape issues. The woman had opened up today, but tomorrow could be a whole different story.

David got to his feet. "I'll speak to Sara in the morning. We won't be pushing to charge her on the shooting, but I'll have to keep working on the general team situation. Thanks, Kim."

"Bye." Kim watched the door close behind him. Departmental counselors were frequently caught between the individual concerns they dealt with, and the good of the department. Seeing both sides didn't mean one was able to reconcile the two. She took a few more sips of her coffee, and was grateful that, at least, IA weren't going to continue with the shooting enquiry. Sara's mental state seemed precarious enough as it was.

After nearly two hours going over the warehouse and another two in the lab, Warrick and Greg were no closer to discovering who had raped and murdered Caroline Flynn. The semen found in her body had yielded no hits on CODIS, and Jacqui was slowly and patiently running the myriad fingerprints collected from the warehouse with, so far, no luck. Brass and PD were trying to track down anyone who'd had any connection with the warehouse, but everyone who hung out there seemed to have faded into the background with Caroline's death. They had a dead girl and no clues. It was one of the most frustrating parts about being a CSI - running into constant dead ends, no matter how hard you tried. The frustration was both emotional and intellectual.

They'd retired to the break room in an attempt to regain perspective. At the moment, that involved large quantities of coffee and discussing football, and at the moment that didn't quite seem to be succeeding.

"So," said Greg suddenly during a pause in the conversation. Warrick knew he was taking the conversation away from football. "Did you know about - you know. Nick and Sara?"

"No." Warrick wasn't in a hurry to admit it, even to himself, but he felt disappointed that Nick hadn't told him, even in secret. He'd thought they were friends. Actually, he knew they were, and that was why he was upset about Nick having neglected to mention it.

"Kissing in the locker room. I wonder how long it's been going on?"

Warrick shrugged, and poured himself another cup of coffee.

"So... what do you think will happen to them? Will they be allowed to keep working together?"

"I don't know. Up to the Sheriff and this IA guy, I suppose."

"And what's going on in here, gentlemen?" Catherine had come in, unnoticed by either of them. Her breezy tone didn't quite hide the tension in her voice.

"We're discussing Nick and Sara."

"Oh? What about them? Hey, who drank all the coffee? I'm desperate here."

"Catherine, you're a woman. Did you know what was going on?"

"You know, Greg, I'm not seeing the connection between those two sentences. But, unlike you two, I do keep my eyes open. I had my suspicions."

"And you never told me?" asked Greg, doing his best to look betrayed.

"Not my secret to tell, Greggy. Besides, I didn't actually know. It's probably good for both of them." Catherine surveyed the two men. "How's the Flynn case going?"

Warrick groaned. "It isn't. It's dead end after dead end, at the moment. All I want is to get this case closed, but we've got almost nothing to go on."

"Damn," said Catherine, softly. "I think we all need to get it over with."

"As soon as it's a reasonable hour we're going to see Caroline's friends. I've got my fingers crossed." Greg put his hands on the table. He'd crossed the fingers of both hands.

"You keep 'em crossed, Greg. Guess we need all the luck we can get."

They sat in silence, soaking up the needed caffeine. Each was considering, in their own way, the developments of the last day or so. Nick had almost been shot; Sara could be in a whole lot of trouble; the two of them were having a relationship; IA was questioning Grissom's abilities as leader; much that they had thought was over had come back to haunt them. They all felt, suddenly, the precariousness of stability. One incident, and everything you thought you knew could be turned on its' head. Uncertainty was something CSIs hated, even more so in their own lives than in their cases, and this was uncertainty that affected and unbalanced them all.

Sara woke from a whirlpool of terror and confusion to the feeling of Nick's hands on her shoulders. She tried to focus on his eyes as she struggled to breathe normally, her heart pounding desperately. She knew logically that the events of her nightmare hadn't really been happening, but the emotion was nonetheless real and strong and overwhelming. Instinct taking over, she leapt out of bed and made it as far as the bedroom door before she remembered the conversation she and Nick had had about running, and also that she had nothing on, and stopped short. "Oh hell," she cried.

"Sara - " Nick was coming up behind her.

"I'm - " she began, her mind still leaping wildly from one thing to another as the residual feelings of the nightmare battled for supremacy. It suddenly became very important to keep her mouth shut as she dashed across to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet.

Tears streaming down her face, her legs weak, Sara dropped to the floor. All she could feel was fear such that no dream should have been able to awaken, and her own futile attempts to push all the emotions back into their proper places so she could think sensibly. She was hardly aware of Nick coming in and flushing the toilet, then sitting down on the floor and gathering her into his arms. All that made her Sara seemed to evaporated, leaving nothing but a mess of pain and anguish and dark memories, and all she could do was cry.

Nick forced back his own urge to throw up as he held on to Sara as to a drowning man. His urge wasn't physical, it was emotional, and he could cope with that. What he couldn't cope with was whatever had happened in Sara's nightmare and whatever was still attacking her from within. He felt utterly helpless in his desperation to help her, to at least ease her pain. He wasn't even sure she knew he was there, but there was no way he was leaving her. He rocked her and kissed her forehead and murmured he knew not what words of comfort into her ears, and felt like Sara was on some far distant planet.

Neither knew how long it was before Sara's tears died away and she lay against Nick, her head on his shoulder, breathing raggedly and limply, and hiccuping. More than a bit scared by the sheer violence of what had just occurred, Nick carefully manoevured them both around so he could lean back against the wall. He wasn't sure he had the strength to keep sitting up unsupported, and he still felt sick. He leaned his head against Sara's and rubbed her arm, trying to get something out of her. She was almost like a zombie, and as the minutes passed Nick felt increasingly worried.

"Oh, Nicky," she whispered, eventually.

Nick breathed a silent sigh. "Are you all right?" he asked, trying not let his voice betray his concern.

"I don't know."

"What happened?"

It seemed like Sara had lost the last bit of pride or stubborness that had kept her worst experience a secret as she began to talk. Her voice weak and flat throughout, she described the nightmare and then, without Nick asking, confirmed what he'd long suspected. She had no tears left, but Nick shed enough for both of them as she talked, telling him what she'd told no one else.

"Oh, Sara," he said shakily when she'd finished, searching for the right thing to say, something that could make it all better, and knowing there was no magic solution.

They sat silent until Nick remembered they were sitting on the bathroom floor wearing nothing. Gething strength from somewhere within him, he pulled Sara to her feet and back to bed. When they were back under the covers, lying in each other's arms, Sara said, "I didn't want to remember that. Not now. Not ever. I was doing my best to forget, Nick."

"I know. I know."

"I went to sleep thinking about being a killer and woke up - remembering - "

"It's OK, sweetheart," he murmured, grateful that Sara was going to be seeing Kim, and hoping that she'd tell Kim what she'd told him, because he knew he couldn't cope with it alone, especially not now. Not when his own dreams had had guns and death in them, and when IA was on their backs and they weren't allowed to work.

"Nicky," said Sara, hesitantly. "Don't let me run."

"Why not?" Nick asked quietly, fearing the answer.

"Because I don't trust myself at the moment."

TBC...