Author's Note: I just wanted to respond to EquestrianBabe. I don't mean to offend any country fans. When I wrote that stuff, it wasn't me inserting my own opinion as it was with the new Foo Fighters song (read my bio--I'm from Kentucky, so I cannot help liking at least some country music); I was writing what I believe that Sara would say. I believe that, in a completely relaxed environment, Sara would take any opportunity to get a rise out of Nick.

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"So, Sara," Nick said as Sara began flipping channels to find something other than the news.

"Yes?" Sara replied uncomfortably. She didn't like the tone in which Nick began the conversation.

"I was just wondering…um…when we're in class…"

"Yes?" Sara was hoping that Nick would just spit out his question instead of making it drag on forever.

"You kind of look like you know what you're doing."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice. But yes, I do sort of know what I'm doing." Sara looked away from Nick and back at the television. "Ooh, hey. 'People's Court.' I love that show!"

"No, Sara," Nick said, grabbing the remote from Sara's hand and turning off the television.

"Hey, I thought you had relinquished control."

"First of all, 'The People's Court' is a waste of HD. Second of all, I'm not going to let you change the subject so easily. Did you take ballet lessons?"

"Yes--well, sort of. One of my foster parents was a ballet instructor. She asked me if I was interested in trying it. I wasn't really, but she convinced me to try it for a week. I ended up falling in love with it because it was the most challenging thing I'd ever tried doing with my body. But then I had to move after only six months. It figures, you know? Of course I couldn't life for a longer time with someone I really liked." Sara shrugged and turned the corner of her mouth up into a half-smile. "That's the past, though. It's way past."

"There's something I don't understand, Sara."

"Shoot." She handed her glass to Nick so that he could refill it.

"Well…if you have experience with ballet, then why were you trying to drink yourself stupid on Monday night and why were you saying all that stuff about Grissom and Catherine wanting to make fools of us?"

"Ballet was always a private thing for me. Roberta--that was my foster mom's name--she always taught me privately and I would spend hours alone in the studio dancing around the way that girls do. I never danced in front of a crowd or anything. I guess I'm just scared that I'll look stupid. I work so hard trying to be the best and the smartest. My biggest fear is having everyone think that I'm stupid."

Nick didn't know how to react to what Sara had just told him. Sara had just exposed so much of herself and he knew that she probably felt more than a little vulnerable because of it.

"Sara, I--" He tried to summon his words forward. "You don't look stupid when you dance. You look beautiful and graceful. The way your body moves--you dance much better than anyone else in the class."

"But, Nick." Sara tried to hold back tears, but a few rebellious drops welled up in her eyes. "I feels so clumsy. I feel so awkward. I--I don't want to do this thing, the recital."

Nick switched his position in the tub so that he was seated next to Sara. He caught her first tears with his thumbs as they began to run over her cheeks. He kept his hands on each side of her face and turned her head so that she was completely facing him.

He almost leaned in to kiss her, but thought better of it. After a full evening of intense flirting and gauging of Sara's reaction, he felt confident that Sara was interested in him, but he didn't want to exploit her in a moment of weakness. He had too much respect for Sara to take such a cheap action. Instead, he pulled her head to rest on his chest and he rubbed her back softly.

"Sara, I won't make you do this recital if you're really too apprehensive about it. Maybe that Mrs. MacElroy will let us do a private performance of the routine. But, Sara, I just want you to know that if you'll go through with the recital, I'll work very hard to make sure that I don't cause you to look stupid." He grasped Sara's chin and turned her face upward. "You can trust me to do that."

Those words struck a chord in Sara. She sat bolt upright, giving Nick a bit of a start, and recited this proclamation: "You're right, Nick. This whole thing is designed to help us build trust and learn to work together. I'm tired of not trusting people. So I'm committing myself, right here and right now, to do all that I can to make us the best team at this conference."

"And I'll join you in that commitment."

Sara displayed her widest and most brilliant smile. Then she hugged Nick enthusiastically and kissed him on the cheek. "So how 'bout another beer?"

"Now, Sara," Nick said with concern in his voice, "You shouldn't drink too much. You don't want to have to do ballet with a hangover."

"Relax, Nick. I know my limits. I'm just going to get more drunk than tipsy and come short of falling-down-drunk. It's a delicate balance, but I mastered it in college. I'm almost there. This glass should do it."

Nick relented and poured Sara one last glass.

Moments later, Nick's cellular phone rang. Sara put a hand on Nick's chest to stop him from getting up to answer it. "I've got an idea. It's going to be funny," she said as she leaned over the edge of the tub to retrieve the phone from the pocket of Nick's pants, "I was this on TV once." She opened the phone and held it to her ear. "Hello. You've reached Nick's pants. He's not in them right now--"

Nick gasped as he grabbed the phone from Sara and held it to his own ear. "Sorry about that," he said as he shot Sara a glare, "Sara insisted on answering my phone."

"Is she drunk?" Greg asked. He had a little down time while waiting for a machine to process some evidence, so he thought that he would call and find out what kind of trouble Nick and Sara were getting into.

"A little," Sara said from next to Nick, "Why are you still screaming into that damn phone?"

"So are you really not wearing any pants?" Greg was in disbelief.

"I'm in my trunks, Greggo."

"So what's Sara wearing?"

"A swimsuit, duh."

"C'mon, Nick," Sara said, "Give him the whole story. He's getting an eyeful, Greg. I'm wearing a string bikini and, before you ask, I do, of course, look very hot. So if you'll kindly say your goodbyes, Nick and I can get back to the conversation that you so rudely interrupted."

"Actually Greg, my man, I do need to let you go. I think Sara and I are both in need of a little coffee so that we can sober up a bit. Later." He ended the call and turned off the power to his phone. He didn't think that he would likely receive any important phone calls and Greg's pestering was really starting to become a bother.

"Nick, please let me enjoy my drunkenness. It's so relaxing."

"Okay. I didn't really intend to make you sober up. I just wanted to get Greg off the phone and I thought that saying that we were going to sober up would keep him from spreading more gossip around the lab.

"A wise man you are, Nick." Sara raised her glass and then consumed the small amount of beer that was left in the bottom. "I guess we'd better get out now before we become human prunes whose muscles are so relaxed that they can no longer be controlled."

She carefully stood and turned away from Nick. Nick smiled and then reached up t pull Sara's bikini bottom from where it was wedged between her buttocks.

"Nick!" Sara exclaimed as she quickly turned to slap his hand. In her inebriated state, she took a spill over the edge of the tub.

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Technical Author's Note: I don't know if "The People's Court" ever actually comes on at 11:00 at night. It comes on during the day on my local station. It gets shuffled around a lot here, though, so please play along.