Disclaimer: Don't own them, didn't create them, and don't profit from them.

Rating: PG-13/R

A/N: Jacinda: Aw, I'm glad that I was missed: D I missed everyone on here as well. The fact that you enjoyed the imagery of Grissom naked and cuffed to the bed, screaming, kind of creeps me out but I am going to assume that it's in a sadistic connotation. As for Lady Heather beating him, we can only hope.

Kate: I'm glad that you cracked up about George in the last a/n. Mmm… insomniac-hot-crazy sex. That sounds so wonderful, don't you think? You should since you were the one who said it. Is that you're way of telling me that they should get over themselves and screw like rabbits? Oh, I'll have you know that I cried during most of the season finale. You were not the only one, I assure you.

missiemeghan: Well, since you were craving more after you read the last chapter, I thought I could write some more and have you crave it again.

Audra: "They made it two days without each other?" Yes, it probably is a record.

Anushka: "Anti-shipper" Is that the equivalent to a terrorist in your eyes, m'dear? Some times, you have to have some angst and although I am not one for writing it, because I hate it and I don't think I'm good at writing that genre, it must be done. Besides, it creates something different. But darling, it pains me to write it. No, I really wasn't sorry that I almost made you cry. : D

Everyone is going to hate me after this chapter but I promise that I will make it up to everyone in the only way that I know how.


Chapter Eight: Eavesdropping

It had been one week, one entire and heinous week, in which Nick had endured the torturous ordeal of keeping his hands to himself. One week since he touched her in the break room and one week since he realized that living without Sara was not an option.

His head was in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, while he sat on the edge of his bed wondering what the hell had he gotten himself into. She was branded into the sheets of his bed, her perfume smelling like vanilla, an attempt at hiding the pungent scent of cigarettes. Nick didn't like the way blonde looked against the grey-blue of his pillow or maybe it was because he was so used to seeing chestnut locks. Her eyes were colder, darker, and heavily laden with smoky make-up that made her fairly attractive in bar light. He had found her on a barstool with her skirt riding high to reveal long, smooth legs and a martini in her right hand. Her smile didn't hold the same vibrancy or affection as Sara's but it didn't matter to him. He had been more interested in her cherry lips any way.

Running his fingers up through his hair, he let out a long, low sigh and then rubbed his eyes hard. There was no excuse for what he had done but he had told himself that Sara and him were not together and that had been his choice. If he slept with other women, that was his choice too and he would not have to tolerate the feeling of guilt. However, guilt was what he felt no matter what he told himself.

His chestnut eyes caught her clothing forsaken near the door. He wanted to be as far away from her as possible, wanted her out and gone. All he wanted was a shower, to scrub himself clean, and berate himself for hoping to find a woman who would suffice when no one possibly could, except Sara.

There was a shift in the mattress behind him and he felt her fake red nails on his right shoulder while she kissed the left. Her lips trailed up the side of his neck to his ear where she whispered words that he would have preferred to tumble off someone else's.

"You were amazing," she murmured, her voice laden with sleep and effortless sex appeal. It was a voice that screamed his name in passion when he was used to having it being moaned or uttered on a whimper.

The back of her hand lightly touched the stubble on his face that he had not shaven off in two or three days. He didn't really care much about anything and hadn't for a while.

"I have to get to work." He was about to say her name when it dawned on him that he had never asked, only given his own. It was better that way. Her name didn't matter and it wouldn't ever matter.

She understood and really was not surprised that her presence was not going to be welcome. His head was bent to the floor again as she changed into her clothes that smelt of the bar, of cigarettes, and now Nick. Before she left, she gave chaste kiss to his forehead and left her number on the kitchen counter next to the phone.

In case you ever want to go for a ride, Cowboy, was written above her phone number. He would chuckle briefly at it later when he would find it but for now, his mind was on a shower and not much else.

"What happened?" Warrick deadpanned immediately, giving Nick a once-over as soon as Nick stepped foot into the locker room to change his clothing.

"What are you going on about?"

"You look like shit," was the blunt response and Nick merely raised his eyebrows. He glanced at his watch and then at his friend, who was gazing at him with an expression of worry.

"Got ten minutes?"

"Yeah, man. What's going on?"

Fifteen minutes later, Nick ended the long explanation of his actions for the past week and what exactly had happened between him and Sara. Warrick sat there across from him on the bench, all ears, and listened to him without saying a word until he was finished.

Nick rubbed his jaw hard with his hand, feeling the roughness of the stubble against his palm.

It was Warrick's turn to tell Nick about the discussion he had had with Sara in the diner about the handcuffs he had found in her jacket pocket. Nick looked exhausted as he waited patiently, hearing everything through and remembering every detail.

"I swear man, I thought they were for you."

"They were after she was done using them on Grissom."

"Are you going to tell her about last night?"

"Do you think I should?"

"I don't know."

"Technically, she doesn't need to know. I mean, we're not dating and we are on a not speaking basis. She can sleep with whomever she wants and so can I."

"Do you love her?"

Nick swallowed hard and looked at a certain spot on the old tile floor. His hand was now rubbing over his rough neck while he thought. He didn't know why he didn't just straight up answer the question. Every particle of his body screamed 'yes' right after Warrick had inquired.

"There's no one else that I love more with my heart," he whispered and Warrick barely caught the words.

"I think you should tell her."

Nick's eyes flashed up from the ground at met Warrick's.

"If you don't it will come out later and then you will be even more screwed than you are now."

"I guess you're right."

"Nick, I'm always right."

The Texan let out a rather large sigh and rubbed his eyes, a habit that he was slowly getting into.

Neither of them had heard the door of the locker room opening five minutes before and neither of them saw the tears that had welled up in Sara's eyes.