Hiding

By: clio21000

Rating: R, just to be on the safe side, but really there's only a brief allusion to sex.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, nor my money, nor my TV show, nor my story – oh wait, it is my story.

Summary: Post-ep for Gum Drops. Nick's reaction, Greg's support, and Sara's story. Very slight NG; much bigger focus on Sara-Nick-Greg friendship. (And, because I love my GSR, there's also a vague, blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to Sara's attraction to Grissom. A gold star for anyone who catches it.)

Nick sat on the edge of the rickety motel room bed, staring into the dark. Images from the McBride case flashed through his mind like slides in a projector stuck on repeat, cycling through over and over. The three thick, viscous pools of blood. The look on Peter Locke's face as Nick yanked his head back by the hair. The photos of Cassie, of her family. Her tiny white body lying on the shore of the lake, illuminated by the harsh floodlights of the police patrol boat.

He shuddered, then started as a gentle hand touched his bare back.

"You okay?" Greg asked softly.

He didn't turn around. "Did you guys ever give up when you were searching for me?"

Greg sat up. "What? No. No! How could we?"

Nick clenched his fists in his lap. "I could have been anywhere. I hadn't had any food or water, fire ants were slowly eating me alive, and I could suffocate at anytime. You had to know that I was going to end it soon."

"Don't say that," Greg whispered fiercely. "We would never just abandon you. You are everything to this lab – you're like Warrick's brother, you're Sara's best friend, hell, Grissom, untouchable Girssom, looks at you like a son." He stroked a hand soothingly up and down the smooth planes of Nick's arm and shoulders. "And I love you."

"But other victims," Nick said slowly, "they mean the same thing to other people, their own families and friends and lovers. But if their relatives aren't in law enforcement, how do they convince people not to give up, to keep looking?"

Greg narrowed his eyes. "We didn't give up on Cassie, did we?"

"You wanted to," Nick said, laughing humorlessly. "I could see it in everyone's faces. You all thought she was dead, and I was ridiculous for hanging on to the idea of finding her alive so long after her family was killed."

Greg grasped his shoulders, turned him so they were face to face. "No. Nick, we were worried, trying not to get our hopes up, but we didn't stop, did we? We didn't give up."

There was a soft tap on the connecting door to the next room, and then the door swung open and Sara poked her head in.

"Jesus, Sara!" Greg cried, scrambling to get under the comforter. "I'm naked here!"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Like I care." She crouched down in front of Nick. "How're you doing?"

He didn't answer immediately. Sara remained crouched in front of him, resting back on her heels. Greg shot her a worried look that wasn't even close to being subtle.

"Nick," Sara said softly, "I want to reinforce something I said earlier. We weren't giving up on Cassie, just like we never gave up on you."

He quirked an eyebrow. "What were you doing, listening at the keyhole?"

A smile ghosted over her face. "Didn't have to – these walls are paper thin."

"Uh, does that mean you heard everything we, uh, did earlier?" Greg interjected, squirming slightly on the itchy motel sheets.

"Unfortunately, Greggo, yeah," she grimaced. "But that's beside the point. Nick - " she put her hands on his knees and leaned forward, making sure he was looking at her. "I meant it before when I said it wasn't your day to die," Sara said firmly. "Thankfully, it wasn't Cassie's day, either. The problem is that so often, we see people who have had their day; it makes it hard to remember how to act when we actually have a chance of saving them. So no, we never do give up, but Nicky, you help us – me at least – remember how to have hope, too."

Eschewing the rules the two men had made about displays of affection in front of others, Greg dropped a kiss on Nick's bare shoulder. "You help me remember, too, babe."

Nick smiled halfheartedly. "I wish that were enough. Maybe it is enough for us, so we can justify our actions and tell ourselves we did our best. But is it enough for the victims? It almost wasn't for Cassie. I was almost too late." He rubbed fists over his bloodshot eyes. "And even if it is enough, what's the point? It can't bring her family back. It doesn't change the fact that she's all alone, that she'll be shuffled off to some relative or put in foster care. How is she supposed to bounce back from that? How will she be able to go on?"

Sara rocked back slightly and studied Nick's face thoughtfully. Behind his shoulder, Greg's face was a study in pain and desperation; he had no idea how to help his lover. Sara was pretty sure she knew how she could help him, but felt her stomach turning nervously at the idea of revealing her secrets to the men. No one in Vegas except for Grissom knew about her past. But Nick – yes, she could see Nick needed to. She rose and strode to the window, and peering outside into the gloom, her back to the men, began to talk.

No use beating around the bush. "When I was twelve, my mother killed my father," she said bluntly. "Stabbed him. In front of me." She ignored the gasps of horror from behind her and went on. "There were reasons for it, reasons I won't go into, but they were pretty convincing. There are times I even believe that she did the right thing and shouldn't have been locked away." She sighed. "But she was, and it was probably because she went a little crazy afterwards – hell, she was probably crazy beforehand – and started running through the house screaming, the knife still in her hand, spraying my father's blood everywhere." She chuckled dryly, humorlessly. "My first blood spatter analysis. I hid in the coat closet, just pressed myself against the back and let all the coats cover me and stayed very, very quiet. My older brother, Peter – he was fourteen at the time – was out. I don't remember where. It's strange that I don't, actually," she said almost wonderingly. "I remember every other detail about that night. Anyway, I just hid in the closet, waiting and wishing Peter would come and find me. After a long time, I heard sirens, and voices, but they weren't Peter's. I could hear them calling my name, but I stayed in the closet; I didn't want to go back out into that scary world again. Then the door opened, and an officer was looking at me. He had the sweetest, kindest blue eyes, and he was very gentle and calming. He didn't make me come out, but just talked to me for a long time while I stood in the closet." She closed her eyes for a minute, then continued her recitation with them shut. "His name was Frank Connors. He visited me several times when I was in the orphanage afterwards – probably once or twice a month until they moved me away and placed me with a foster family."

She sighed, turned to face Nick and Greg. "By that time, I was already known as the girl whose mother had killed her father, and it was driving me deeper and deeper into my shell. The last time Frank visited me, he could tell it was bothering me, and he said, 'Sara, don't even think about it. You're a fighter. You're tough. And you're so, so smart. You're going to go far, and you're going to help a lot of people. I can tell – I could tell the first day I met you in that closet.' " Sara smiled slightly now. "So even through everything that came after that – being separated from Peter, being bounced around from foster home to foster home, being picked on and teased and made fun of – I kept that with me. Someone, somewhere, thought that I was smart, tough, a fighter, and cared enough about me to let me know. I always kept it with me," she repeated. "And Cassie will too."

Nick nodded silently, tears streaming down his face. "All right," he said hoarsely. "All right." He gave Sara a tremulous smile. "You turned out all right, Sara Sidle," he said.

"Despite it all," Greg said, sounding rather choked himself.

She nodded. "Despite it all," she agreed. "And so will Cassie."

FIN