Friday night's shift was a gloomy and downhearted affair. The usually happy-go-lucky Greg was moody, with a fiery temper to match. Not even halfway through the shift, he had already snapped at half of the lab and almost bit off Hodge's head. Even hard-hearted Ecklie was extremely wary of the CSI's newfound disposition.
Nick himself was trying to stay out of harm's way, fortunately succeeding. Greg was keeping to himself now, a dark shadow over his face. It didn't go unnoticed that the lab rat turned field mouse kept pacing by a certain brunette's office, looking for her.
And Sara was nowhere to be found.
"She hasn't come in at all," Judy had whispered to him when he asked. She too, knew that the only thing that kept Greg sane at that moment was Sara.
With a resigned sigh, Nick thanks her and grabbed his truck keys. Hell if he was losing a friend to the cruelty of the world-he wasn't going to let one go missing.
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Catherine held up a ratty fur-trimmed notebook. Flipping through the smudged pages with gloved fingers, the strawberry-blonde let out a small noise of disgust. "Our girl had more clients than I had in a week's audience on the Strip."
"A dime a dozen" her colleague quipped sarcastically. Warrick took the small pad from her hands, scrutinizing them. Giving a low whistle, he set them down. "These are all high-profile people."
"More like thousands a dozen," Catherine smirked ruefully at this. "I'll take her paycheck any day," Sifting through the bank statements, the CSI frowned. "With that kind of payroll, you'd think she'd have a bigger nest egg. And nest," she added as an afterthought.
Warrick shook his head. "Drugs?"
"Doc didn't find any signs of use. No evidence at the crime scene either. Tox screen came up clean."
She was surprised when the dark-skinned CSI grinned knowingly, holding up an untouched box of evidence. Without a word he dropped it back down onto the layout table and pulled out a roll of bloody duct tape.
Her eyes widened. "Where'd you guys find that?" She examined it in impressed disbelief, turning it over carefully in her hands. Four clear fingerprints stood out vividly in the brown sea of dried blood.
"Nick found it in the trailer park dumpster." His mocha eyes twinkled slyly. "He lost the coin toss."
Laughing lightly, Catherine smiled and set to work on lifting the fingerprints. Maybe they could finally solve this.
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Back in her apartment, Sara wished she really had disappeared. If she had, she wouldn't be having so many problems at the moment-especially one that couldn't go away.
"When can I see Daddy?" Robyn protested sleepily as she snuggled into the bed covers. Her blue
Her foster mother smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll see if he can see you soon," promised Sara, lying through her teeth. Tucking the small girl underneath the sheets, she waited until Robyn was asleep to silently close the guest room door.
Plodding tiredly down the hallway in her oversized T-shirt and boyish shorts, Sara plopped herself down on the sofa and closed her eyes.
"What am I going to do now?" she muttered to herself for what must have been the hundredth time that evening.
She dozed off a bit, the day's events getting to her. Before she could fully fall asleep, however, Sara heard a small tap.
"Sar? You there?"
Oh no.
"C'mon Sara, I know you're in there. The light's on."
Before she could do or say anything, there was a sound of a key jingling into a lock. A familiar face poked through the crack in the door, worn-out but reassured.
"Hey, Sara. You alright?" Nick closed the door behind him, coming closer to her spot on the couch.
Nodding mutely, Sara smiled in what she hoped was a convincing answer. "Yeah. Just felt a little sick, that's all." Her smile grew wider to hopefully prove her point.
However, the Texan wasn't fooled at all. "You never stay home just because you're sick," Nick commented suspiciously, one of his dark eyebrows quirking upwards as he studied Sara's expression carefully.
"Well, I did this time, okay, Nick?"
"Uncle Nicky? What are you doing here?"
Horror crossed Sara's features as her gaze settled on a small figure standing behind her friend. There was Robyn in her flannel pajamas, clutching her teddy-bear and staring at the pair of adults in confusion.
Nick froze, turning around to confirm his suspicions. As Sara leapt up and tried to elude him, he grabbed her wrist and whirled her around to face him. "She's here? She's here and you didn't even tell Greg?"
Mixed emotions flashed in her eyes, from remorse to trepidation and distress. "I can't. See, Anya had dropped her off and now I'm her foster mother for god knows how long and-" Sara began to babble, then stopped. "Let go please, Nicky."
He shook his head, fingers grasping slightly tighter. "What's going on, Sar?"
Wincing, she tried to pull away. When it failed, she heaved a sigh, and sat back down. Only then did Nick let go, instead opting to take Robyn in his arms.
In a low voice, she mumbled in his ear, "Greg's not allowed to see her."
Nodding in understanding, Nick sighed and gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze. "So what are you going to do about it?"
She shook her head, drowsily fading in and out of well-deserved slumber. "No idea what to do," mumbled Sara, laying her head comfortably on Nick's shoulder. The brunette hadn't shed a tear, but her downcast eyes were glistening.
He rubbed the bare flesh of her arms affectionately. "We'll figure it out in the morning, alright?" Nick's voice drawled comfortingly, settling like a warm blanket. "We'll be okay, Sar."
When Sara didn't answer, Nick chanced a glance at her sleeping face. He smiled at her peaceful expression, noting how it didn't betray the effects of the day. Robyn was between them, snoring lightly.
"We'll be okay," he repeated softly. Resting his head kindly on hers, he eventually fell asleep.
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Greg wearily trudged down the dimly-lit hallway of Sara's apartment complex. Three-sixteen. Three-eighteen. Three-twenty…aha. Three-twenty-two.
Knocking on the wooden door, he waited for a minute, not hearing anything. He frowned. Sara wasn't in trouble, was she?
He turned the knob, becoming instantly cautious when it slid open silently. Poking his head in through the doorway, the shaggy-haired CSI swept his bloodshot eyes over a spotless kitchen. He gave an inward sigh of relief as he saw the top of Nick's head over the upholstery of the couch-that must mean that Sara was safe. Tiptoeing further into the room, he slid the door shut with a small click.
Nick didn't even flinch.
The younger man grinned. Just like the cowboy to be such a deep sleeper. Walking over on the other side of the partition separating the kitchen nook from the rest of the apartment, he got ready to throw a pillow on Nick's face-and froze.
"Robyn?" Greg exclaimed a bit too loudly, for both of his colleagues jolted awake, culpable expressions manifesting on their faces.
As for the blue-eyed angel, she stayed blissfully asleep, worn out by the events and excitement of the day.
"I can explain, Greg," began Sara carefully, knowing that he would have immediately taken it the wrong way.
Right she was.
"Sara?" Her friend's voice wavered a bit, creeping higher as his gaze moved from one person to another. Realization dawned on his features, and Greg clenched his fists angrily. "Nick."
"It's not what you think, man," Nick tried, getting up from his position to face Greg. Sara's hand was clutching his wrist, telling him to let her handle it.
Fury flashing in his dark eyes, Greg just stood there, skin becoming red under his emotions. Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, he tensed. "I know exactly that it's what I think, Nick," Greg ground out between clenched teeth. "Didn't know you had it in you."
If the situation wasn't getting so out of hand, Sara would have laughed at the hilarity of the idea. Her and Nick together, is that what Greg thought?
Apparently so.
"When were you guys going to even tell me my own daughter was here with you guys?" Flickering his eyes at the sleeping child, Greg softened his gaze a fraction of a muscle. "Don't tell me you adopted her," he muttered scornfully.
Nick felt rather than heard Sara gasp at the low insult. Risking a glance over his shoulder at her, he saw that the words bit a nasty mouthful into her pride.
"Is that what you think?" Sara cried out, unknowingly waking Robyn up. "I didn't even know I was going to be her foster mother, Greg! You can't even see her," the brunette said a bit more quietly. "The social worker said-"
Her sentence was cut off by Greg's loud huff of incredulity. "Are you kidding me, Sara?"
Sara's eyebrows knit in confusion. "What?"
Greg barked a short laugh, devoid of any amusement. His usually sunny temperament seemed to have faded, replaced with a sardonic man of bitter feelings. "You're telling me that you, advocate of the poor abused children, aren't even going to let this girl, who is rightfully my daughter, not see me?" Gesturing between his two soon-to-be-ex friends, his mouth turned into a sour grin. "And then not tell me that you're dating."
"If she did, Robyn wouldn't be here. You shouldn't even be here," Nick said quietly, not missing the fact that said child was awake and listening with one eye open. He chose to ignore his colleague's last comment. "Sar's doing her best, Greggo."
Looking between Sara and Nick, Greg shook his head. "Whatever. Just stay the hell away from me." Giving the seemingly-asleep Robyn a kiss on the top of her hair, he twisted around on his heels. Right away Robyn began to wail hysterically, running after him as he stomped out.
A glass cup shattered as the door slammed with a resounding bang.
Nick pulled both girls into a hug, automatically feeling guilt-ridden. Sara was crying too.