Disclaimer: Hahaha...own it? Surely you jest.

Buenos dias! I know I said earlier that this chapter was to be the final installment of Black Sweat, butwhen I saw it half-written on my desk, I realized it would work better broken into two parts as it is massive.

Thanks for all the reviews, even though some of you find me evil. And yes, I look forward to writing more. I'm alsowilling to accept any challenges or scenarios thrown at me, so don't hesitate to double-daring me into writing something.

So..here's 1/2 of the conclusion!

Chapter 7- Formulating Plans

There was a full moon in the sky over the LVPD forensics' lab. Nick Stokes always knew that the full moon brought out the crazies, and frankly he was sure to be one of them.

There's no way I can back out of this, Nick thought as he washed his face in the sink of the men's bathroom, something he'd done twice before already, I've made my bed and now I have to…uh…lie in it, so to speak.

After ten minutes of intense contemplation in the locker room and a hasty sprint to the restroom he was currently pondering in, Nick had decided his impulse was correct: the time was looming, he needed to tell her how he felt before it was too late. He knew he had to do exactly what Jay had said, cornering her and explaining himself. He'd waited too long for her to do something, say anything about their night of mysterious and dangerous passion, and now it was his turn to take charge. The details of his plan, however, were crude at best.

Nick turned the faucet on once again, splashing his still-flushed face with cool, soothing water. If he hadn't known better, he would think that Sara had actually infected him with an actual fever; one that took over his body, made his movements completely maladroit, and poisoned his thoughts to the point where his toxic mind would do nothing but spin images and sonnets about her. His previous attempts at making conversation with her—or even standing less than three feet away from her for more than five minutes—had not only been mediocre, but embarrassing in every sense of the word. If he was going to confront her, he had to do it right. He wasn't 100 percent ready for the hypothetical bevy of options that was his conversation with Sara about the previous night.

Nick began his now-comfortable pace of contemplation for the umpteenth time in the last half an hour, when Greg waltzed into the men's room in an abnormally spry way. Nick could smell Greg's amusement a mile away and quirked his eyebrow at the young, blonde level one.

"Well, come on Greg, let's hear it," Nick ordered, willing to walk into his own inevitable humiliation. Man, I have to stop embarrassing myself on the job, Nick inwardly chastised. He understood that his situation was comical, that to Greg he looked like some inept, post-illness blob of awkwardness and red-faced foolery whose shenanigans could only be something of an Archie comic. He'd become the Jughead of the lab in less than 24 hours, and he couldn't explain the truth to bystanders—in all honesty, he had no idea what the truth was.

Predictably, Greg flashed the largest grin from ear to ear, and pretended that the information he was withholding from his Texan coworker was causing him to bounce around like he was about to explode from the tension. Greg leaned into Nick midway through his dance to nudge Nick in the elbows.

"So," Greg began, "Word around the lab is that you ran out on Sara like a scared little schoolgirl without a single peep."

"What?"

"Yeah, Sara looked a bit flustered about it," Greg said as he shook his head in mock-pity for Nick.

"Greggo, it's a little hard to explain," Nick replied as he stared down at the grimy floor of the men's room, "but I've been having… well… a slight issue with Sara. I didn't run out because I was scared. I ran to run."

"Ran to run?" Greg echoed back, shooting Nick a look that obviously inquired if a strain of crazy was embedded somewhere in the Stokes clan's DNA.

"Yeah."

Greg stared at Nick for a period of silence, waiting to see what the Texan would do next in the conversational standoff. After 30 seconds, Greg finally cracked under his own burgeoning curiosity.

"Come on, Nick, tell me!" Greg pleaded with all the desire of a child holding a brand new puppy.

"I don't think you can handle it."

"Try me." Greg replied with a load of confidence. He supplemented his statement with a strong power-stance in a valiant effort to convince Nick he was ready for the news.

"Well," Nick hesitated, knowing that dropping a bomb this size would be hard to keep under wraps.

"Greg, promise to me that no matter what you do today, the information that I am about to tell you will stay only with you. Don't mouth off to Hodges, Wendy, or anyone for that matter. This is personal, and if I found out that you told someone, I promise a load of horrific things to come, you understand me?"

"Yeah," Greg promised with all of the sincerity he could muster, "Just tell me."

"Sara and I had sex."

"You two did the nasty!" Greg screamed so loud that Nick feared the entire lab heard the sound of his dirty laundry airing out.

"Yes, man. Now keep it down." Nick urged.

"I hate to disappoint you, Nick, but Sara doesn't have that tell-tale afterglow, nor has she mentioned anything—"

"That's because when I woke up, man, she was gone. And, she hasn't said anything about it since, for that matter," Nick answered, once again feeling the frustration that had drove him to pacing for nearly twenty minutes in perplexity.

"I'm still not sure I believe you," Greg accused. He gave Nick his best detective face, signaling Nick that the eccentric young former-lab rat desired tangible proof of the highly improbable situation that was the manifestation of countless years of flirting and innuendo between Nick and the dedicated, practical, and certainly untouchable Sara.

Nick sighed as he felt crimson heat on the back of his neck for another time. The cycle of Sara's fever continued on, and Nick inhaled a cooling breath in a desperate attempt to lower his increasing body temperature. He reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the little black ribbon he'd found that afternoon and waved it in front of Greg's face.

"She left this hanging on my doorknob," Nick said earnestly. Greg quickly grabbed the silken piece of fabric, examining it close with his eyes like saucers and his mouth hanging wide open. The blonde CSI shot an incredulous look at Nick, then at the ribbon, then back at Nick.

"No way man!" Greg half-screeched in surprise.

"Yes way, I'd even challenge you to dust the sucker for prints. It's hers." Nick leaned into Greg, quickly snatching the black ribbon from his hands. He jammed it in his pocket before walking around the bathroom to calm himself. He was tired, bewildered, and unsure of his future. Now, with Greg knowing one of the biggest social explosions in the history of the whole crime lab, Nick was afraid of messing his whole plan up. He turned to face Greg and continue with his confession.

"Man," Greg sighed as he looked at Nick in shock and disbelief, "Now I know why you've been acting like a fool this whole time."

"Yeah, I don't know what's wrong with me," Nick said as he strode over to the sink to wash his face out of compulsion, "She's messing with my system, and I can't get over it."

"Is there anything I can do?" Greg inquired.

Nick stood up from the chrome basin, flooded with inspiration. He took a long look at Greg with the fervor of a developing plan. He smirked, and strode over to pat his younger coworker on the back.

"Actually, I was wondering, what are you doing for Cath's case?"

"Uh…I was about to go with Brass to chat with a few of the surgeons to see if they've misplaced dead bodies or anything," Greg responded.

"Do you think I could switch with you? You can work on bones with Sara and I'll get out into the field. She's almost done, and I know you're close to maxing out on overtime. It's a win-win situation: You get more relaxing time, and I can think more about how I'm gonna do this. What do you say?"

Nick waggled his eyebrows in a salesman-like way, trying his best to sell the only idea that could work in his situation. He needed time to prepare for his big talk with Sara, and he didn't know where the venue of his showdown would take place. He needed to avoid her and cool off before he put anything into action.

" Sure, man. Your situation is way messed up, and I'm willing to help out." Greg smiled, looking slightly like a super hero saving the day.

"Thanks Sanders." Nick smiled back and walked towards the door. He felt for the handle, but turned around to face Greg once again.

"Oh, and Greg, not a word of this." Nick warned and pointed a finger resolutely at the quirky CSI.

"Not a thing." Greg smiled and waved.

Nick walked out of the bathroom and towards his Denali to meet Catherine. His tradeoff borrowed him time though he regretted leaving Sara's side. He needed to organize and concentrate. This was going to be his do or die situation, and he needed it to run smoothly.

The full moon outside gave Nick strength, its waxy coloring and soft light reminding him of his night with Sara. This was going to be it, he was positive.

Heheh...I love that Greggo. He's so adorable.

Well...there's part I...expect part II sometime soon. REVIEW plzkthnx!