Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

A/N: Am I worrying anyone yet? Are you bored? Let me know in a review.

They rode in amiable silence at first. Sara was still trying to keep the anger at bay, and succeeding somewhat. She could stay at the lab, look over the case file and harangue the techs about results. The old Sara would have. Did it make results come any faster? Probably not. It would put her in a foul mood and she would finally force herself to go home and drop into bed. But that's what she wanted to do. The need to do so was strong within her.

The yearning to see Nick was also strong. She knew she could tell him about the bruises on the girls neck and body, and he would listen, adding a comment with accent thicker than usual, and he would kiss the tears away from her face and hold her if that was what she wanted. It would not be all that she wanted.

Sara had never thought of herself as promiscuous. She had never had sex outside of a relationship, until Nick, and that was a relationship, even if it wasn't romantic. Because of this aversion to one-night stands, she had extremely long spells without having any kind of sex at all. She didn't know if that was why once she finally "got some", to use the vernaculer,it created a nympho out of her. She would every night. She was like a camel, hoarding all she could. She guessed it was the feast or famine nature of her sexuality.

Or it could be that her relationships never seemed to make it much further than the first year when sex is always plentiful. It was a dark thought, and pushed her back to a dark mood. That led back to thinking of Anna Gilead.

"You're very quiet," Perrin said. He had been watching her from the corner of his eye. He could tell the case was bothering her.

"Sorry," she said with a grim smile, and a tone that didn't sound apologetic. "I tend to …"

"Obsess over your cases," Perrin finished for her. Sara blinked. Was she so easy to read? "You know, every one has a type of case that works them over, like a heavyweight champion would work over a lightweight contender. I think your type of case involves young women being battered, abused and raped," he said.

"And what would your type be?" Sara asked. She wasn't sure if she liked Perrin's assessment of her, even if it was correct. Maybe she didn't like it because it was correct, and he had known her such a short time. Perrin chuckled at her direct question, and her slight glare at him.

"My type involves dogs," he said. Sara cocked her head in surprise.

"Dogs?" she asked. "How can a dog case work you over? How does a dog compare to a human?" she asked. Her tone was combative, and though she thought she might be pushing the point, especially with a person she had just met, she couldn't help the incredulous note in her voice.

"I'm not comparing dogs to people. It's just a visceral reaction I have. I remember one case in LA when I was aVice cop. We busted a ring of dog fighting, you know, betting, that kind of thing. Anyway, here are these dogs, bred for killing. You wouldn't believe the viciousness of these animals in the ring. They would die from their own injuries still trying to rip the throat out of the other.

"People would be all around them, yelling, screaming, vicious animals in their own right. And then the owner of the winning dog of this one fight I saw, he comes out to dispatch of the dog. Even though the dog won, he was beyond repair. So the owner comes up, gun in hand, and this vicious, throat ripping pit is lying in the ring, still holding the other, dead dog by the throat, and his freakin' tail starts wagging when he sees his owner.

"Something about that just broke my heart. This dog was doing everything to please the asshole that was going to kill him, that bred him as a commodity for violence. That dog was doing nothing the man hadn't trained him to do. It was no different than my dog catching a Frisbee when I was a kid."

"I think I see," Sara said, though she wasn't totally sure she agreed. "You're saying the dog is a victim of the man."

"The dog is a victim in a whole different way than another person. I mean, a lot of homicides I've seen, and when I was in Vice, the victim made some mistake, in judgment or something that gets them in the situation to be killed. I know kids are another matter, and believe me, that gets to me. It's that a dog is an animal that is completely under human domination. That dog's life began and ended at some man's whim. He was bred to do nothing but kill. They are controlled in all ways by our intentions. So it gets to me."

"A dog is the ultimate victim of man's caprice. They have no say in their lives, their deaths or their births. We abuse them, we use them and they still love us," Sara said slowly. She thought she understood, though a dog's death still wouldn't get her like the death of a person. Then she thought about the gorilla body she and Nick had investigated before. That had affected her pretty deeply as well.

"Exactly," said Perrin. "You're never going to completely understand it, but it's just what I'm talking about. Each of us has cases that resonate inside and work us over. This one is working you over pretty good." He gave her a compassionate smile. She surprised herself by blushing a little. She wasn't used to anyone but Nick being so sympathetic. Grissom always seemed to be condescending to her on some level. Greg was so green that everything was making huge impressions on him. Sofia didn't seem to get worked up about any case, kind of like Grissom.

"Yeah. They usually do," Sara admitted. They were at the lab now. She thought again about going in and looking over the case file. It was already 8:30 am.

"I don't know about you, but I am going to do the paperwork I have to, and come back to this tomorrow with fresh eyes," he said. "I hope you go in, drop that evidence off, and come straight back out here to your car," he said as she got out the passenger side.

"Thanks Detective. It's nice to have you on the team," Sara said, and began walking towards the lab.

"My friends call me Ozzie," Det. Perrin called loudly as he left the parking lot.

"Ozzie?" was all Sara could think as she waved half-heartedly. She walked into the lab with strongly dueling sides. She logged in her evidence and walked to the break room, thinking about grabbing a cup of coffee and reviewing the file. Her phone rang as she entered the room. She knew who it was before she even looked at the display.

"Hey," she said, sounding tired even to herself.

"You sound worn-out," Nick said on the other end. His soft drawl was a welcome sound to her ears. "Tough shift?" he asked. She sighed heavily.

"Yeah. Grissom let me work solo on a rape and attempted murder," Sara said. She wondered where her elation from early in the shift had gone.

"Sounds bad," Nick said. She knew there was an unspoken offer hanging between them. She counted on it.

"You want to meet me at the diner?" Sara asked.

"How about you come over here and I will fix your favorite waffles?" Nick asked. She could hear the gentle smile in his voice. She thought she could hear him getting the Belgian waffle iron out of his cabinet. He had bought it one day when they had gone shopping. She could feel herself relax a little bit. For some reason, there was always a piece of her that thought Nick was going to say that he couldn't meet her, or that she wasn't welcome to come to his house and take comfort in his body. Every time she knew she was seeing him again, a little wave of relief foamed over her. It was disconcerting, really, but she knew that she needed this human contact. And most of all, she knew he needed it as well.

"I'll be there within 30 minutes," she said, smiling a little now. She would probably make it in 15 minutes. It was weird, really, how much better she felt when she was going to Nick's place. Her anger and frustration were ebbing, hiding back in whatever place it was they stayed. Though it was forbidden in the rules they had established, Sara often wondered what would happen when Nick met some special person. Would it be like it had been with Hank, a shock that had rocked her to the core? Of course, with Hank, she had been the unknowing other woman. She hadn't been in love with him, really. And she wasn't in love with Nick. Really. Would it be easier knowing that the possibility, the certainty of him finding someone existed? Somehow, she didn't think so.

Right now things were perfect. She had her own space. She was doing well in her job, again, and she actually had a life outside of work. And she was boning a nice hunk of man. Or was that being boned by a nice hunk of man? Sara laughed out loud at that thought. Who would have thought science nerd Sara Sidle would have such a slut side?

She had reached Nick's house. She cut off the SUV and grabbed her bag. It always carried her essentials these days, as well as an extra outfit. When she let herself into Nick's unlocked house, she was embraced by the homey smell of fresh waffles. She breathed in deeply and kicked her shoes off. She laid her bag and jacket on a chair in the foyer, like she always did. She turned back and locked the door and set the alarm on the security system.

She walked into the kitchen and immediately burst out laughing. There stood Nick, placing a waffle onto a plate, dressed in nothing but an apron that read "BBQ King". Nick turned to her with a totally innocent look.

"Didn't I tell you we were having naked waffles?" he asked. Sara shook her head and giggled a bit more as she began unbuckling her belt. When her clothes were in a neat pile at the entrance to Nick's kitchen, she sauntered over and grabbed the strawberry syrup.

"Dining room, bedroom, or living room?" she asked. She had one eyebrow cocked suggestively and was holding syrup in what Nick thought was a provocative manner. He loved it when she had that look, the one that said she was up for just about anything.

"I cooked. You set the table," he said, and smacked her behind lightly with a spatula. She yelped and gave him a glare. Then she sashayed out into the hallway.

"Bring those waffles and your sweet ass in the bedroom," she called.

Anna Gilead was forgotten for the moment.

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me. Maybe this chapter will satisfy a little bit of that Snicker's sweet tooth.

Anushka: You really tickle me. Thanks for you continued reading!

EquestrianBabe; Don't hate Perrin. Yet.

Snickers Fans in general: I understand. You want the N/S ending. You'll just have to wait and see.