A/N: Hello, everybody! GUESS WHAT? I wrote a multi-chap that is GETTING POSTED and IS ALREADY FINISHED! which means there will be NO WAITING for updates!
(how revolutionary, the crowd murmurs)
So here, all in one, is my story which has taken me like a month to write. My sister thinks it's good, but, eh... i dunno. See for yourself. tell me if it's not.
Disclaimer: p.s. this applies to all future chapters NOT MINE! sigh not even George. What a bummer. My dad goes to Texas on business enough, you'd think they'd give him some sort of coupon...

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Sara woke up to the sound of a shrill noise buzzing in her ear. She frowned drowsily and rolled over. The noise stopped. Sara sighed with relief and began to fall asleep again when the buzzing noise began again and she realized it was her cell phone vibrating on the night stand beside her bed. She frowned. She had the next shift off, she was actually using her vacation time to sleep in; why would anyone call her? She wasn't on call... She groaned. Didn't people know that she was trying to actually sleep? How out of character was this for her, and when would it ever happen again? Very, and never.

Sara sighed, now fully awake with no chance of falling asleep again, and reached to pick up her phone. She really hated herself for that habit; once she woke up, she couldn't sleep again. Although, she thought, it was a good habit to have when you're working the night shift. She'd only slept for a few hours before the phone rang, and she was still sleepy from the shift before and groggy from the little sleep that she'd had. She picked up her phone, flipped it open and mumbled, not at all attractively,

"Sidle"

"Hey there Sar, I know it's your day off and I was wonderin' if you'd like to get some breakfast with me after shift?"

"Nick? Oh God... umm, yeah sure, when?" she asked, clearing her throat to get rid of her gravelly voice.

"How 'bout I come pick you up in oh, say, half an hour? I wasn't waking you up or anything, was I?" he added sheepishly.

"Yeah, that's fine. Half an hour, sure. And yeah, you did wake me up Nick," she said bitterly, hoping to convey her glare through the phone.

"No wonder you're such a ray of sunshine, then," he joked. "I'll be there in thirty."

"Mmm, yeah, okay," Sara sighed defeatedly, hanging up her phone. Even if she WAS capable of going back to sleep there'd be no chance now. Oh well, this way she didn't have to make breakfast herself.

Sara rolled out of bed and yawned, rubbing her temples while she headed over to her closet to decide what to wear. She grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans at random, then grabbed underwear and socks from her drawer and headed into the bathroom. She emerged ten minutes later and decided to watch T.V. until Nick got to her place.

Twenty minutes later, Sara heard a knock on her door. She shut off the T.V. and walked to her door, yelling "Who is it?" even though she knew who it was.

"S'me, Sar, you ray of sunshine you," came Nick's voice, muffled through the door. Sara checked the peephole anyways; she was a little paranoid about opening her door after all the nutjobs and horrible crimes she'd seen on the job. She undid the lock and pulled the door in, Nick stepping in as it swung open. "Haven't seen you in awhile, Sar," Nick said as he pulled her into a hug. Sara wrapped her arms around his shoulders and sighed silently to herself.

"Yep, feels like it's been ages," she replied, realizing how much she missed working together with the rest of the night shift, but especially Nick. She missed their kidding and innocent flirting, and just seeing his face when she was working. She pulled away and grabbed a jean jacket out of her hall closet, then her purse as she put on her shoes. "Anywhere special in mind?" she asked, knowing they were just going to their regular diner but asking anyways.

"Indoor dining, casual ambience, er... 'edible' cuisine," he replied, playing up the better aspects of the diner.

"Third home away from home," she replied, smiling. It felt like ages since she had last smiled.

Nick started to head out the door and paused when he didn't hear Sara's steps following him. He turned around and saw her just looking at him, almost wistfully...? "Aww, Sara, I missed you too," he said, turning around again and pulling her into another, longer hug. He finally pulled his left arm away and kept his right arm around her body, guiding them out the door together. She turned around and locked the door, following Nick out to his Tahoe in her apartment's parking lot. She climbed in the passenger's seat and pulled on her seatbelt while Nick went around the other side to the driver's seat. He put the keys into the ignition and Sara fiddled with the preset radio stations, frowning.

"Is country all you've got programmed on here?" she asked.

"Sara, you don't know me as well as I thought you did," said Nick, smiling. Of course he only had country programmed. He chuckled at Sara's obvious displeasure. "Oh, c'mon now, it's not that bad is it?" he asked, then began to croon along to some song about a runaway dog and a broken guitar. Sara grimaced, but sat back and folded her arms across her chest as the Tahoe pulled out of the lot. She actually sort of liked the fact that Nick was singing; she only sang to herself when she thought nobody else was around. And she would never have the guts to sing that obnoxiously in front of other people.

The ride to the diner was enjoyable; each told the other about the rest of their broken team after Nick eventually stopped singing (Sara had to turn the radio off and threaten to use Mace), and things were almost like normal. The truck pulled into the parking lot of the diner and Nick and Sara undid their seatbelts and jumped out, eager to eat and catch up on the rest of what they were missing.

As they walked up the path that lead to the front door, Nick surprised Sara by offering her his arm, which Sara surprised Nick by accepting. Nick smiled and opened the door for Sara, who then realized she had been holding Nick's arm almost possessively by then and let go immediately to walk through the door. They walked over to a booth and sat down, Sara on one side and Nick on the other.

"And what five-course meal will you be gorging yourself with today?" Sara quipped, taking off her jacket, glancing over the menu and deciding on pancakes with blueberry sauce.

"Ha, ha, Sidle," Nick said dryly, mentally crossing at least five items off the list of food he was going to order. "Only two courses," he added defensively.

"Growing boy needs his food, huh?" she joked, pointing at his stomach which was ironically taut for the amount of food he ate.

"It all gets worked into this fabulous bod," Nick replied, flexing his triceps.

"You are so full of yourself," laughed Sara.

"You know you like it," Nick retorted. Just then, the sixty-some-odd waitress with a saggy face and cotton-candy blue hair walked up.

"Orders?" she intoned, bored. Obviously she didn't appreciate the morning shift.

"Pancakes-"

"Omelette-"

They started at the same time.

"You first," said Nick, attempting a gracious bow in the limited space of the booth.

"Alright," said Sara, smiling, "Just some pancakes with blueberry sauce, please," she asked.

"You, buddy?" asked the waitress with a raspy smoker's voice.

"Western omelette, sausages, bacon and white toast. Please." Nick added hurriedly, not wanting to sound rude.

"Wish I had your metabolism," Sara sighed as the waitress left the table.

"You do fine without it," smirked Nick, letting his eyes rove the top half of her frame openly and raising an eyebrow.

"Oh I do, do I?" she asked, mimicking Nick's raised eyebrow.

"Sure do, sunshine," he said, and laughed easily.

"So why'd you ask me to breakfast?" Sara asked suddenly. "Was it to make sure I'm mentally healthy even though I'm taking a day off? Or did you just miss having me around? Too dependant to function without me?"

"Would you believe the latter?" asked Nick flirtatiously.

"Not especially," she responded. She busied herself with a part of the table pattern, inexplicably finding something different about this conversation and not finding it altogether too comfortable.

"I do miss you, Sar," he said, tilting her chin up. She looked at him in the eyes. "I miss not seeing you every day, I miss hanging out with you in the breakroom, hell, I even miss when you start whining about something. I'm serious," he added as she chuckled. "I wish... I wish we were still together. Our team, I mean," he corrected himself quickly.

"I miss you too, Nick," she said quietly. And it was true, she did. They had been growing closer until the team's untimely demise at the hands of one Conrad Ecklie, and the time they spent apart was weighing heavily on all of them. Sara sighed and took his hand from her chin, holding it in her own and stroking the back with her thumb absently. "I miss you alot, Nick," she said, eyes down, not conveying her real meaning. She had begun to feel attracted to him, in a way that was more than friendly. All her hopes of moving their relationship to the next level had shot out the window like a ballistics test when the team was divided, but she never displayed that feeling outwardly. On the other hand, however, she was sort of relieved that she didn't have to spend every day with Nick, debating whether or not she actually did want to stay only friends, or trying to determine what Nick felt about them. True, they flirted all the time, but it was... friendly. She often found herself debating the merits of losing such a great friendship to romance; was it worth it? Would she lose Nick forever if they tried dating and ended up breaking up? She had had her heart broken before and although she knew that Nick would never intentionally hurt her, she really didn't want to lose their friendship over anything. She looked up at him and saw him staring intently at her, and as she opened her mouth to say something, the waitress came up to the table and plopped a plate of flapjacks in front of Sara unceremoniously.

"Yers is comin' buddy," the waitress grunted to Nick. He got the feeling she had worked the morning hours for far too long... she should try swing shift.

Sara had let go of Nick's hand as soon as the pancakes had interrupted and now she found herself missing the comfort he had brought her just by literally being there.

She looked at Nick almost apologetically, and picked up her fork and knife and began to carve away at the pancakes. She hadn't even realized how hungry she was until the first of three pancakes was gone. She stopped eating and looked up at Nick, who was watching her wolf down her pancakes with amusement. She narrowed her eyes and he held up his hands in surrender as the waitress placed three plates down in front of him; one with his omelette and a side of bacon, one devoted entirely to sausages and another supporting six pieces of toast. He jokingly rubbed his hands in anticipation and picked up his knife and fork, immediately shoveling a good portion of his omelette into his mouth. It was Sara's turn to smile amusedly at the ravenous eating habits being displayed. One would think Nick hadn't eaten in weeks, when it was really probably only around a few hours since his last meal.

The two ate in silence, glad to be at least in the same room together after such a long time spent apart, and soon all four plates on the table were clear, except for a small piece of pancake still on Sara's plate.

"You gonna finish that?" asked Nick, swallowing the last of his toast.

"All yours, Miss Piggy," she answered, shoving her plate across the table at him. He ignored the comment and ate the last bite of pancake. The waitress immediately came with the bill as if she just couldn't wait to get rid of them.

"I got it," both Sara and Nick said, pulling out their respective wallets.

"No, it's okay, I've got it," said Nick, pulling the receipt towards himself. Sara snatched it out of his hand.

"I've got it now," she replied smugly.

"Not anymore," Nick sang, snagging the bill and holding it out of Sara's reach. Sara got up from the table and came around to Nick's side of the booth, reaching over him for the bill, which he held in the hand furthest away from her. Nick leaned away but only slightly, so that Sara's body was flush with his. He looked up at her. "You know, Miss Sidle," he said in a low voice, "I could get very used to this..."

"You could, could you?" she breathed, looking down at him. She brought her face even closer to his until she could feel his breathing on her face. She smiled demonically. "...too bad." She finally reached the bill and grabbed it, pulled herself off of Nick (which he was very disappointed with) and started smugly to head to her side of the booth again. Just as she stepped out of Nick's reach, the door flew open and shots rang out.

Four people with masks on their faces stormed in, brandishing AK-47's and opening a hail of bullets. The patrons of the diner screamed in fear and rushed to get under their tables and out the opposite door. Nick ducked to the ground beneath the table and looked over to where Sara was standing. A horrible sight met his eyes as he looked at Sara, who had caught a bullet in the shoulder and was writhing in pain, still pitifully clutching the bill to her chest. Nick slowly got out from under the table, worry all over his face as he crept towards Sara, still keeping low to the ground, and he peeled off his button up shirt, exposing his undershirt, and put the shirt gently to Sara's wound. She cried out in pain, attracting the attention of one of the shooters, who motioned to his comrades.

Nick cradled Sara's head in his lap as he pulled out his own gun from its holster, grateful he hadn't taken it off after shift. He kept the gun low to the ground and out of sight; he wouldn't use it if he didn't have to. Sara moaned dully as she began to lose consciousness along with her blood. She grasped at Nick's arm in a futile attempt to stay awake and he responded by holding her hand briefly and then returning his hand to its position over her wound. One of the gunmen approached the pathetic scene while the other three robbed various customers and leapt the counter to break open the cash register. Nick's head reeled at the actions of the perpetrators; they hardly seemed any older than college kids, perhaps they were. The one that had approached them grunted at Nick.

"Weapon down. Now," he added forcefully as Nick glared at him hatefully for doing this to Sara. He placed his gun on the floor at the gunman's feet and immediately his hand flew to grasp Sara's again. She squeezed his hand with all the strength she had left, which at this point was minimal. Nick's heart broke as he looked down at the figure in his lap and he again returned his disgusted glare to the masked man - or perhaps kid - in front of him. "Stand up," the young man ordered. Nick began to protest that Sara was too weak, but the gunman shot a warning round into the booth beside Nick, straight into Sara's jean jacket. "I said get up, loser," he yelled, waving his weapon around menacingly. Nick had dealt with people like this before, and had been held at gunpoint before, but never like this, with other peoples' lives at stake. His mind raced. What was one supposed to do in this situation? He absently registered several more shots being fired so he stood up obligingly and supported Sara as well, who was wavering between the conscious levels of her mind. He knew if he tried to call for help with his cell that more shots would be fired and people would die because of it, because of him... that was out of the question. He rested Sara in the booth they had shared, subtly moving her purse under the seat so the gunmen wouldn't take it and CSI would find it later to give back to Sara. He stood slowly, putting his hands behind his head, his lap covered in Sara's blood.

"Your whore, she's coming with us," growled the man, shoving Nick in the shoulder with his gun but not firing. "Spike," he roared, presumably at one of his partners. "Tie the chick up and chuck 'er in the trunk," he hollered.

"No!" Nick yelled, hands still on his head, trying to stay calm and cautious. "She's too weak to come with you, please leave her alone," he pleaded. "She needs to get to a hospital," he said, a little lower. "She could die if she's not looked after," he continued. A tear threatened to fall at the thought of losing Sara, but he knew that the last thing he wanted to do was put both Sara and himself at the mercy of these people. He had to at least appear strong or God only knew what was going to happen.

"We'll look after her okay," sneered the man. He flashed an evil grin that was visible even through his ski mask. Nick shuddered. He glanced over at Sara who, despite her best efforts, had finally sunk into unconsciousness. He steeled himself.

"I'll go instead, just please, she needs to get to a hospital," Nick argued, managing to keep his voice relatively steady. "...please," he added again, softer this time.

"What good would you be to us, you S.O.B.? And what's it to ya anyway?" A realization seemed to hit him. "You're screwin' her aren't ya... I see how it is, you want her to yerself. She really IS your whore... Well ya know what, Prince Charming? The world would be a better place if we shared more, right? So share," he spat cruelly and flashed a creepy grin that would turn Medusa to stone.

Nick looked again at Sara, whose unconscious face held no trace of the pain she was feeling earlier. He wondered if she had fallen unconscious because of the pain or the loss of blood... either way, it was blatantly obvious that she needed medical attention. Nick flicked his eyes around the room... Sara was the only casualty. Why did it have to be her? He felt tears come to his eyes again and forced them to stay back. He looked at the gunmen who were now all encircling Sara and him. He had to make a deal.

"Why do you want her?" he asked cautiously, weighing each word spoken.

"Are you serious, punk?" jeered one of the perpetrators.

"Yes, I'm serious... do you want a hostage, or are you so desperate to get laid that you'd rape an unconscious woman?" he mocked, fear still showing in his eyes but going undetected by the gang.

The first gunman stepped closer and grabbed Nick by the scruff of his undershirt. He aimed his gun at Nick's head with his other hand, and Nick's breathing suddenly became ragged and shallow. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say... The second gunman produced a rope from one of the many pockets of his pants, took Nick's arms from behind his head and tied them in an awkward position behind his back.

"If you're so desperate to come with, then you can tag along, too," sneered the first gunman. He raised his gun above his head and brought it down hard on Nick's skull, knocking him unconscious as well. "Tie 'em up and stick 'em both in the trunk, we're heading out," he hollered to his companions.

A/N: Expecting that? muahahaha. Review, S.V.P.