A/N: My love for you all (or y'all, considering I do live in Dallas, Texas) grows each day. This chapter is a soft R, folks. It could probably pass as PG-13, though. Anyways, I do hope you enjoy it.


"Consumption"

It was a miracle; that was the only explanation. She, Sara Sidle, was totally and completely in love with the most wonderful man and he was in love with her. The relationship that had begun eight months ago still remained a secret, despite the couple's quite obvious affection for one another.

It was moments like these that Sara thanked each of her lucky stars individually and by name. Moments when she woke up to find his arms wrapped securely around her waist, a finger or two tracing the tattoo on her hip, the one he had discovered the first time they made love. Eight months had passed, eight months that Sara believed eclipsed all positive experiences in the 34 years before them. All of the sadness and the pain in her life were made insignificant by the beauty that was the man sleeping beside her. He slowly stirred into wakefulness; giving her a grin and speaking in his sleep-laced voice, "mornin' beautiful."

She gave him a smile in response before kissing him. That might have led to other activities, activities the two of them had joyously partaken in the past months, had the ringing of Sara's cell phone not stopped Sara's lips from placing a kiss on Nick's bared chest. Groaning, she rolled off of him and picked it up, her voice still husky with drowsy satisfaction, "hello?"

Listening for a moment, nodding, she clicked the phone shut before collapsing back onto her lover's body. Drawing nonsense patterns on his skin she murmured, "they need me at work. I expect you'll be getting called in shortly, too."

The ringing of Nick's cell phone punctuated that remark and he winced before sighing in resignation and picking it up. The conversation was simple, a matter of a "yes" and "see you soon."

Dropping his head back onto the pillow he sighed heavily before flashing her a smile. "You know, Sar," he said, "you'd think that, them being CSI's and all, they'd have figured it out by now."

"Mmm," she nodded in agreement, still laying atop his chest as his fingers roamed through her dark locks, "you have been living here for what, three months? Ah…" she let out a rapturous moan when Nick's hand ventured lower, outlining the phoenix tattoo on her shoulder. "I guess it's good," she continued, "that they only call us on our cells. If they tried the home phone, we wouldn't know if they were calling you or me."

He chuckled deep in his chest, making the chiseled plain vibrate underneath Sara's cheek. "And here I thought that the change of address form was a dead giveaway."

Rolling off of him, Sara began to rifle through the pile of clothing on their bedroom floor. Casting him a glance over her shoulder she replied, "Grissom signed off on it, and you know he isn't all that observant when it comes to human emotion."

Stretching, Nick extricated himself from the bed and pulled on a shirt. "Yeah, but Catherine, Warrick, and Greg?"

"Maybe we're just good actors," Sara mumbled before tossing Nick's jeans over her shoulder. He caught them with ease and pulled them on, trying to stop the niggling thought that had suddenly gripped his mind. Why were they keeping their relationship a secret? He loved her and he was pretty sure she loved him, so what was the purpose of keeping it hidden? After all, Nick really wanted to let the whole world know that his girlfriend was the most wonderful, beautiful, intelligent creature on Earth's surface.

He wondered if Sara felt the same way but wouldn't talk to him about it. The idea was plausible, he knew. Sara was very self-conscious when it came to her body, her emotions, and her love life. Perhaps she felt he was somehow ashamed of her and would let him be with her even if he didn't acknowledge their relationship. She was masochistic like that sometimes. There had been Hank, who used her as a mistress, and Grissom, who had manipulated her. They had shattered Sara's image of self-worth, causing her to accept far less than she deserved.

Nick's voice was quiet when he called her name, "hey, Sara?"

She turned, clad in her shoes, jeans, and the white lace bra she knew he liked. "Yeah, Nick?"

"Why do we keep 'this'…" he gestured to himself and then her, finishing with the apartment they shared, "I mean, 'us' a secret?"

"I dunno, I guess I was just a bit insecure about letting the whole team know we were together. Plus, Grissom probably wouldn't be happy about it."

"Screw Grissom," Nick said, turning to tie his shoes.

"No thanks, Nick. I have much more fun screwing you."

The small bit of anger he had felt dissipated at Sara's completely un-CSI comment. He was the only person she revealed this side of herself to, the Sara Sidle that every once in a while would make a lewd comment, the Sara Sidle that could cry or laugh until she was sick. That Sara. His Sara.

Even if they weren't totally ready to let the whole world know about their relationship, this was enough.


Halloween was a terrible time to be a CSI, Nick thought soberly as he slammed shut his locker. The holiday that was all about candy and costumes was almost always perverted into something sinister, even more so in Las Vegas.

His current case was a group of teenagers who had banded together to wrap the house of a social outcast at their school. The bend of delinquents had even dressed in complete costume, though the black ensembles they sported would be their downfall. On the front patio of the house they were set on festooning with toilet paper a party was going on, one that involved a very inebriated man. In his drunken state the individual had pulled a gun from his genie costume and began brandishing it around.

The pranksters had hidden across the street, shielding by the trees. In their black outfits the partygoers had not seen them, least of all the drunken wielder of the gun. However, Nick thought they could have been dressed in day-glo and it wouldn't have made a difference. Four shots rang out and three of the teenagers died.

Some days Nick wondered why kids lived in Vegas at all, seeing as the whole city seemed to conspire to end their lives before they began. The culprit was now sitting in the interrogation room, subject to Brass's unforgiving questions.

Exiting the building and climbing into his car, Nick drove the now familiar route to his shared apartment with Sara. Climbing the stairs he opened the door to reveal the comforting interior. His girlfriend had the night off, though she had refused to reveal to him the reason. Opening the door he called out, "Sara?"

"In the kitchen, Nick."

She was, poring over something in a saucepan on the stove. The aroma was delicious, and Nick's mouth began to salivate. "What are you cooking, Sar?"

She gave him a wicked smile. "None of your business. How was work?"

"Ugh." He made a face to show his distaste and she walked forward, giving him a hug in an effort to comfort him. Kissing his neck, she said, "I bought some stuff at the store today."

"Oh, really?" asked Nick, knowing the evil glint in Sara's eyes well.

"Yesss…" she said, pulling him forward to look at the bubbling concoction on the stove. "It's fudge sauce," she whispered huskily into his ear, "I bought caramel sauce and whipped cream, too. No boy, least of all you, Nicky, should be without candy on Halloween."

His played along, feigning ignorance, "and where are we going to place these sauces, Miss Sidle?"

"Why Nicky," she said, pouring the fudge into a bowl, "Wherever you like."

Grabbing his free hand, she submerged the tips in warm chocolate. Her eyes stayed trained on him as she brought the digits to her lips, ridding them of the russet concoction with her teeth, lips, tongue, and the silver stud therein. Shedding her clothing on the way, she carried the dessert products into the bedroom with Nick hot on her heels.


The next morning, Nick woke to Sara's soft humming as she washed the last of the chocolate out of her hair in the shower. While he had been sleeping, it seemed she had also sponged the whipped cream off of the wall where it had landed during their…activities.

She exited the bathroom a few minutes later, wrapped in a white terrycloth towel and still humming with satisfaction. She bent over to rummage through a couple of drawers, exposing the dark, purplish bruise on her shoulder that Nick had created the night before. She pulled a light green tank top from the dresser and looked at it with contemplation.

"You know," Nick said from his lazy position on the sheets, "If you wear that then everybody will see your tattoo, and they're also bound to notice that monster hickey on your shoulder."

She turned and gave him a grin. "Given the fact that they still haven't noticed we're together, I wouldn't be so sure. And besides, even if they do notice the 'monster hickey,' all they'll know is that I had great sex last night, which I did."

The rest of her reply hung still unspoken in the air. She was wearing a tank top, the silence seemed to say, because she was proud of the marks he had put on her, of the claim he had on her body and heart. Placing his hands behind his head, Nick smiled, though it was wiped from his face as he shot up in bed. "Shit!"

Sara was by him in a moment, her jeans only half on and unbuttoned. "What?"

His gaze was heartsick, "we forgot a condom."

Involuntarily his eyes drifted to Sara's stomach, the same stomach he had licked clean of caramel the night before, while images of that beautiful surface distended with pregnancy filled his head.

Sara was agape, her shirt slipping down one shoulder haphazardly. "Holy shit, we did, didn't we?"

He nodded mutely and Sara fell onto the bed with a 'thunk.'

"Uh…Nick, what do we do?"

"I have absolutely no idea."


A/N: Oh yes, I fully acknowledge that I am evil. However, I shall endeavor to get the next chapter, entitled "Abstraction," up soon. Thank you for reading!