DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

Nick had moved after the Nigel Crane fiasco, and she really couldn't blame him. He was living in a small apartment in Summerlin, as neat and clean as his old house. It wasn't what she'd have expected of Nick, but then again he was full of surprises.

He'd made more concessions to the Christmas season than she had, not that it was hard to top zero. He had a small, fake, but nicely decorated Christmas tree on the table in the corner, and a row of Christmas cards on the windowsill behind it.

"I'd offer you coffee," he said, "but it's Christmas morning." Nick fished a bottle of wine out of a cupboard. "I don't usually drink wine, but it's Christmas."

Sara spoke before her courage failed her. "I can't." Weighing it up quickly in her mind, she decided telling the truth was better than breaking her resolutions and promises about alcohol. That was likely to lead to far too many more drinks, and far too much guilt.

"Why not?" Nick asked, obviously surprised and curious.

"I can't. I'm, um..." She bit her lip and stared at the floor. What the hell was she doing here? "I... you know. Twelve step programme."

"Oh. Oh, hell, Sara, I had no idea. How long?" Nick sounded genuinely concerned and she had no doubt that he was. That was Nick. It was what he did. She wasn't much of a people person, but even she could tell that much.

"How long have I been... uh... or you mean how long since my last drink?" Sara was fighting to sound detached. Christmas or no Christmas, she should have refused his offer.

"I... both, I guess."

"Four months, two weeks and six days. And I don't know how long, I... can't tell when it started, really." She kept her eyes on the floor and listened as Nick put the wine away. "Can you just... forget? Please?"

"Yeah. Sure. Uh. Coffee, Sara?"

"Thanks."

They didn't talk about much for a while. Just sat there, drinking their coffee, and then devouring a packet of chocolate cookies, as families across the city opened presents; Rachel Harrison and her children lay in the morgue, waiting to be claimed by Rachel's family; and Kyle McKinley sat in a cell and contemplated the rest of his life.

Nick yawned.

"I should go," Sara said, and was surprised at how reluctant she felt. She didn't usually spend this long with people without a concrete reason.

"Don't," said Nick, so quietly it took her a second to be sure she'd even heard him.

She didn't argue. She didn't have the strength, somehow. She'd spent too many long Christmas days alone, and even for someone who professed to believe that the modern Christmas was a construct of big business, it got lonely. Nick was more comfortable to be with than most people were.

"So this is Christmas, huh?" he said, after a few minutes of silence.

"Whatever Christmas is."

"You're pretty cynical," he said softly.

"That's me. Cynical. I've seen too much. You know, Christmas, it's Christmas that drove Kyle McKinley to kill Rachel and those kids. Domestic violence skyrockets at this time of year and... I just... yeah. I'm not a Christmas person, you know, and this sort of things makes me wonder why anybody is."

"What about when you were a kid?"

"Can't have much of a Christmas when your parents are too busy fussing over the guests."

"Guests?"

"I grew up in a bed and breakfast. Mostly."

"Why mostly?"

"Long story." Sara propped her feet up on the coffee table. "What about you?"

"When I was a kid? Christmas was great. All our relatives used to come over... my sisters and brothers and I would get kicked out of our rooms so our aunts and uncles and grandparents could sleep in them, and we'd all sleep in the living room and the dining room. I slept in the kitchen with a couple of cousins one year, and my oldest sisters slept in the bathroom because they wanted some privacy. They got woken up every time someone wanted to use the bathroom in the night."

Sara was struck by a pang of intense loneliness and regret. She wasn't good at living with lots of people and it would have driven her stir-crazy - she'd probably have retreated to a closet- but maybe that was what Christmas was about. She was also struck by the tone of Nick's voice, something more than nostalgia. "Why didn't you go home this year?"

"I haven't gone home for Christmas since I came to Vegas."

Sara stared at him, shocked. "But I thought - "

"Yeah. I know. I've given up the happy families pretence, but everyone still accepts it without thinking."

"I had no idea."

"We've all got our secrets. And I thought you were meant to be cynical."

"Maybe I wanted to believe it," she mused. "The happy families thing. Someone should have one." This was getting into dangerous territory. She was opening up a little, thinking and saying things she'd rather not, but she couldn't bring herself to leave.

"Maybe."

"So, what happened?"

"What happened?" Nick put his feet beside hers on the coffee table. "I don't fit in. I'm not what they wanted me to be. They don't mean to rub my face in it, but that's how I feel. So I stay away."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Can't help it."

Their eyes met, and despite it all both managed a smile. "I'm glad you're here, you know," Nick said.

"Yeah, me too. I... get a bit lonely sometimes."

"Me too. You... don't have to pretend, you know, Sara?"

"Who's pretending?" she quipped.

"I can tell, you know."

"I can't do anything else, I guess."

"Why?"

She looked at him, looked into his eyes and saw someone who cared for her more than she could fathom. The voice in the back of her head said that Nick cared about everyone, that was just how he was, but for once she didn't want to believe the voice. She started talking, trusting him. She told him most of what she'd told her counselor, and more. She talked about Grissom, about alcohol, about work, about how the best Christmas she'd ever had had been in a Social Services group home when she was 16. None of it answered his question about why she had to pretend, but maybe it answered a lot of questions he'd never felt safe enough to ask. "I'm sorry," she said when she'd run out of things to say, and meant it. It was Christmas. Nick didn't need her life story, not today of all days.

Even so, she couldn't manage to be surprised when he said, "Come here," and pulled her into the first hug she'd had in a long time. Sara had always poured silent scorn on those women who needed a man to feel happy and secure, but, damn it, she couldn't blame them right now. She did feel safe and secure like this, and that bothered her. Not enough to make her break out of his embrace, but enough to make her think. "Some Christmas, huh?" she said, to push the unwelcome thoughts away, and in an attempt not to realise that she'd leaned her head against his shoulder, and could feel the warmth of his neck through her hair.

"I guess."

Suddenly tired, Sara yawned. How long had she been awake now? Coffee or no coffee, it was far too long, even for her. Maybe it was time to go home, before something - she didn't know what, but something - happened.

Just as that thought flickered across her mind, she felt Nick kiss the top of her head. Startled, she looked up at him. He looked completely mortified. "I - I'm sorry - hell - I didn't plan that, Sara."

Had he been anyone else she would have just stood up and left. All the things which made it so hard for her to trust men would have come to the fore and she'd have been out of there before she started thinking straight. Instead, she surprised them both by dropping her head back onto his shoulder. "It's okay." It was more than okay, it was nice. Comforting. Reassuring.

"I... don't know what happened." Nick sounded more than a little confused. "You just looked so... I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Really."

She felt Nick rub one of her arms, then put his head close to hers. "I don't know what's happening, Sara, I have to tell you that." His voice was a whisper.

All the reasons as to why whatever was happening shouldn't have been happening were starting to assail her. They were co-workers. She'd been hung up over another man for more years than she cared to remember. Neither of them had a good track record with, well, things like this. Things that happened when the grey area that delineated friendship from something more got crossed. She had issues. He had issues. And whatever was happening, it seemed to be out of either of their control.

Sara promptly started panicking. She must have stiffened, because Nick said suddenly, sharply, "Sara? You okay?"

"I don't know what's happening either, and it's... kind of scary. I like to be in control of things, and... do you want me to go?"

Nick shook his head. "No," he whispered. "Do you? Because, you know, you can go if you want..."

"I don't think I want to. Just scared." She didn't want to be honest, but somehow it was hard not to.

"What of?"

"Myself. You - but not in a bad way," she added hastily. "Just this... thing."

"I shouldn't have kissed you," Nick muttered.

"It's not just that."

Nick sighed. Sara felt his chest rise and fall against her side. "Even with all this, I'm glad you're here today."

Sara considered it all. "So am I."

THE END