Sara's POV:

"This doesn't have to be as awkward as you are making it," Nick replied as he drove us to the secret destination where the armed guards were waiting.

"I'm just tired. I can't pronounce the name of any of these drugs they want me to take for my neck thing," I grumbled. I was utterly exhausted having been awake for well over twenty four hours. I had entertained myself in the lab for two hours before the sheriff finally made arrangements for Catherine and me. Each of us were sent to our 'safe houses' with another CSI. That was done to make Grissom feel a little more comfortable by knowing that someone capable was there. Catherine had been sent away with Warrick. I had been sent with Nick, as Greg was still busy in the DNA lab. Nick did make me feel safer no matter how much I tried to deny it.

"You're not supposed to be able to pronounce any of those drug names. That's what keeps the doctors in business," Nick replied. I don't think I laughed at his joke.

"There's an antibiotic, a painkiller, a sedative . . . I don't think I need a sedative," I replied in the grumpiest voice to ever pass my lips.

"I think the sedative is for me," Nick replied as he placed a hand on my knee.

"I'm not taking it," I replied spitefully. Nick laughed and squeezed my knee. I tried to laugh, but my chest was sore from my sudden impact with the ground earlier in the day. I gasped and coughed a few times before I could regain my composure.

"Take it easy," Nick said as he gently rubbed my knee, "Why don't you get some sleep? We still have a half hour drive in front of us."

"Where the hell are you taking me? We left Vegas over twenty minutes ago," I asked. The mention of sleep made my eyes begin to droop.

"Brass said he has a cabin north of the lakes. You and me are roughing it for a few days," Nick commented.

"The Sidles have never been known for roughing it. There is some comfort in knowing that I'm always within ten minutes of a hospital, grocery store, and massage parlor," I rambled to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"I always pictured you as earthier than that. Sitting on a cliff meditating to the sound of some kind of wildlife in the distance," Nick commented.

"Try sitting in a yoga studio communing with nature via a CD entitled 'The Sounds of Nature.' I like nature in small doses. My parents weren't the camping type. They weren't really the parenting type. My father was more of the 'beat the hell out of you' kind of guy," I rambled. I could feel Nick's sweaty palm through my pant leg. "The ket-oro-lac must be making me talk. You can just tell me to shut up, and I'll shut up."

"Sara, it's been five years . . . sometimes, I don't feel like anyone knows you. You hide away in a professional façade or drink away everything in your life," Nick replied after drawing in a deep breath.

"I know. Did you ever have a secret that was so bad and ugly that you couldn't tell anyone ever under any circumstances?" I asked.

"Yeah. Everyone has one secret like that. No one is perfect," Nick replied.

"My whole childhood was a big, ugly secret. I went to college across the country just because I needed to reinvent myself. I created this perfect childhood with perfect parents. I had people believing I grew up in a household that was a Norman Rockwell come to life," I replied as I willed my brain to stop talking.

"Why do you think I moved to Vegas?" Nick asked, "I ran away from everything . . . a great girlfriend, a close family, a good job because I couldn't handle looking at my older brother's new fiancée."

"Let's not talk for awhile. My head hurts, and I'm still hungry," I complained.

"Sar, you don't need to always be noble in your suffering," Nick gently prodded.

"Old habits are hard to break," I said with a yawn.

I drifted into sleep as we passed through roads that might lead to no where or everywhere. I could hear the hum of the radio somewhere in the back of my exhausted mind. I had been terrified to fall asleep. I was terrified of the dreams that I was anticipating. They wouldn't really be dreams; they would be nightmares that would threaten my already fragile mental state.

"Sar, come on. We're here," Nick said as he unbuckled my seatbelt. I said something unintelligible to him. He smile and gently eased me into a position where he could pick me up and carry me into the cabin. I rested my head against his shoulder as he cradled my body close to his chest. I hadn't felt so secure in a long time.

He carried me into a bedroom that smelled of dust. The air was thick and dank from months of closed windows. Nick covered me with a blanket, but stop when he saw that I was becoming increasingly wakeful.

"Two officers. One by the back door and another by the front door. One of them said that Brass would stop by with some supplies to get us all through the next few days," Nick said as he tucked the blanket around me. My grandmother did that when I was very young. She would tuck me in so tightly that I could barely move.

"Oh, I'm really hungry. Can you help me change my bandages? The doctor wants me to put on an antibiotic salve twice a day. I don't know if I can do it myself," I said. Nick nodded and gently reminded me that he was the one that waited with me in the pharmacy.

"Brass is going to send Sophia and an officer to your apartment to pick up some clothes. Grissom said that you should make a list of the toiletries you need. I'll send an officer to pick those up courtesy of the crime lab," Nick said as he readjusted the pillows behind my back.

"Better Sophia than Greg," I replied. Nick smiled.

"I think Greggo is all grown up. You've somehow managed to turn him into quite the man," Nick replied as he batted my hands away from the foam collar.

"He's a good CSI. I'm really proud of him," I replied with a yawn.

"He takes good care of you," Nick said.

"Greg thinks that he can fix everything that is wrong with me. He reminds me of you," I whispered as my eyelids became heavy again.

"Sar, get some sleep. I'll make supper whenever the groceries get here," Nick said as he began to lift himself off the bed.

"Can you stay for a few minutes? I'm afraid of the nightmares . . . I'm not even asleep, but I'm already afraid of them," I asked with a nervous laugh. I knew he understood. I remembered watching him after Nigel threw him out the window and held a gun to his head. Nick tried to do anything to keep himself awake. When he did sleep, it was fitful. At one point Warrick and I thought his tossing and turning looked more akin to a seizure. We stayed awake to watch him that night. The memory gave me chills. So many years ago, I prayed that I never would be in Nick's position, but there I was.

"Close your eyes. I'll be right here," Nick said as he laid down on the bed next to me.

Thank you so much for his kindness, I prayed.