CSI: Crime Scene Investigation Stories: Secret Desires sereis: Fantasies and Nightmares

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is produced by Alliance Atlantis Communications and CBS Productions, in association with Jerry Bruckheimer Films; the series is distributed worldwide by Alliance Atlantis, and by CBS in the USA. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership to these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story... and most likely not a story any of them would have written, had they had the time or no. I am making no money from this, and it is just for my entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a select group of friends. Thank You.

Note: In answer to the Greg Files “How They Got Together” challenge. Converted to Snickers for Merrianna.

It started with…
A sigh, a glance, a smile
And he was drowning
A laugh, a touch, a hug
And he was lost
A whisper, a caress, a kiss
And he surrendered

“No!” Nick Stokes thrashed against the nightmare, the man with the gun aimed straight at his head. Trying to fight back, flailing his arms, the CSI struck out at the vision, and came into contact with reality. His eyes flew open, not on the sight of his darkened apartment, but on the brightness of a hospital room.

A yelp escaping the woman as she jumped to her feet causing Nick to look to his left and he saw what his wild thrashing had done. He’d inadvertently knocked an entire Styrofoam cup of soda out of his friend’s hand, spilling it over the woman. With a groan, the Texan dropped his hand to his side. Brown eyes closing in regret, he rasped out, “Sorry, Sara.”

With a frown, Sara Sidle tried to clean the icy soda from her jeans, already feeling the intense cold seeping through the denim and into her body. “Damn, Nick, you didn’t have to toss it on me!” The young woman tried ineffectually to stop the chilly spread with a couple of thin paper napkins. Nick let his eyes open again, regretfully surveying the damage done by his clumsiness. Before he could see much more than a trim waist and generous hips clad in soaked jeans, dizziness overcame him and the injured CSI once again let his eyes shut, a groan escaping from bruised lips.

Looking up from her personal emergency, the brunette investigator frowned. Her voice softened in regret as she said, “Hey, it’s okay, Nick. It’s not like I haven’t spilt worse on myself.” After a pause, in which Nick considered telling his friend to leave or just to shut up, Sara asked, “Need me to get the nurse?”

Sighing, Nick let his eyes open again, trying to fight the nausea and dizziness. One hand clutched ineffectually at his sheets in a grasping motion. Finally, after a long moment, Nick was able to control his body long enough to slide his eyes from Sara’s soaked pelvis, up the rather clingy zebra-print shirt, to the woman’s worried brown eyes set in a pixyish face. It was hard to believe the woman was thirty-five years old; she looked more like twenty-five: a very cute twenty-five.

Startled, Nick wondered where the hell that thought had come from and hurriedly determined that it had to be the drugs. He was still hurting from being flung through that window. It wasn’t everyday a guy was picked up at what appeared to be an empty crime scene and thrown two stories to the ground. To add insult to injury, he’d then been attacked in his own apartment by the same guy, re-injuring himself and winding up back in the hospital for the night. Just because he was being released the next day didn’t mean he wasn’t still fuzzy with pain and the subsequent pain medicine the hospital had given him.

Blinking, trying to clear the odd fluttering feeling Sara’s concerned voice brought with it, Nick shook his head, then instantly regretted it. A hand flew to his mouth, the CSI ignoring the deep pain in his ribs that the quick movement brought. With all of his will, Nick managed to fight down the nausea enough to gasp out, “Yeah... nurse... good idea, Sara.”

The smile that lit Sara’s face took Nick’s breath away before the investigator turned and hurried out of the hospital room. If the CSI hadn’t been trying to keep his almost inedible lunch down, he’d have been bothered more. How could a woman he’d worked with for a couple of years suddenly twist his guts like a roller coaster? Nick was a ladies’ man but had never even considered... He brutally squashed even the hint of the thought. No, it was the drugs and how nice Sara was being; that was all.

He let his brown eyes close and tried to draw his thoughts back together while trying not to listen eagerly for Sara’s return.

Sitting in the darkened room, Nick let his worried brown eyes play over the sleeping form of the injured woman in the hospital bed. Just the previous year their roles had been reversed, with Nick Stokes the broken patient and Sara Sidle the supportive friend. Nick would have given almost anything to change positions now.

He knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent the explosion of the DNA lab. Hell, he’d been working with Archie Johnson in the AV lab just down the hall. But the guilt washed over Nick anyway; he felt he should have been there for Sara, should have been able to protect her from the pain and terror.

Nick was drawn from his morose thoughts by the sound of Sara’s soft moan, her body moving restlessly while gripped in a dream. Instantly the CSI shifted forward in his uncomfortable chair and reached for his friend’s hand. He hesitated and let his own hand drop back, without having made contact. Nick tended to avoid touching Sara these days, and it wasn’t due to the horrible injuries the technician had received from the blast. Actually, he’d avoided touching Sara since his own hospital stay the spring before.

It wasn’t anything against the serious-yet-sassy criminalist; God knows that Nick found the woman more than delightful company. In fact, that was the whole problem. Sara was intense and exciting and smart... she knew how to turn a totally bad day into something worth remembering, all with that amazing smile.

Well, that smile wasn’t anything to dream about, actually, being rather more of a smirk, as if Sara was the cat who ate the canary, the cream, and the dog’s favorite plush-toy all in one glorious sitting. But something about the way it lit her face, caused her brown eyes to dance, was enough to draw an answering ray of happiness from anyone who saw it.

A year before, Nick had been thrown through a second story window and nearly killed. When Sara had sat by his bed in the hospital, Nick had lashed out during a nightmare. The young woman should have been angrier than Hell but suddenly the world flipped upside down when the investigator flashed him that brilliant smile instead.

Nick, who’d always been attracted to women, suddenly found himself, at the oddest times, daydreaming about that smile. When he caught himself, he’d go look up one of his many, available female friends and have a mind-blowing night of sex. Always, in the morning, guilt washed over him and he’d have to fight for control. What the hell had happened to him?

Another groan drew Nick back to the present once more, and he focused his eyes on the bruised, exhausted features of the woman lying in the bed. The nightmare that had gripped her caused her to start thrashing, and Nick worried she’d pull out the IV in the back of her hand. Suddenly, the criminalist’s deep brown eyes flew open, and Nick forced himself to smile, pushing all of the unsettling thoughts to the back of his mind. No way was he going to freak Sara out with his weird fantasies.

“Hey, Sara, finally decided to join the land of the living?” The smile that Sara bestowed on him was nothing like the overly bright, cheerful grin she rarely displayed; it was subdued, almost non-existent, and Nick’s heart tugged in sympathy.

“Hey,” Sara’s voice was barely a whisper, harsh and throaty from inhaling the smoke of the explosion. Her eyes drifted shut once more, as if too heavy to remain opened for more than a couple of seconds. “If this is living, I want a refund.”

Unable to stop himself, Nick laughed; trust Sara to turn this tragedy into a joke. When a soft answering chuckle sounded from the woman, Nick gave in and slid his hand carefully over Sara’s uninjured one. The other investigator opened her eyes and turned her hand in Nick’s, letting their fingers lace together. It felt comfortable and Nick decided to leave their hands together.

Their silent comradeship was interrupted by a nurse peeking in the door with a tired smile. “Sorry, guys, but visiting hours are up. You’ll have to finish the joke tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, embarrassed to be caught holding hands with his coworker, Nick drew away from Sara with a nervous smile for the nurse. She disappeared down the hall, but both C.S.I.'s ignored her, eyes meeting. Trying to lighten the air, Nick continued Sara’s joke. “When I find the guy who dealt the hand, I’ll make him give it all back.” There was confusion in Sara’s eyes, and sympathetically, as gently as he could, the Texan leaned down and hugged the injured Californian.

Warmth flooded the man and he bit back a groan as heat rushed into his groin. Sudden images he’d never admit to anyone, especially Sara, welled up and Nick pulled back, fighting the urge to actually turn and run. Instead, he gave a small wave, an inadequate smile, and walked out as calmly as he could.

It had to be the sympathy he felt for the injured woman, Nick told himself desperately. How else could he explain away his body’s embarrassing reaction to that small contact. He’d never dallied with a coworker in his life, had girlfriends too numerous to count; he couldn’t have a hard-on from just hugging Sara. He was exhausted and worried, that was all. It was worry about the near lost of a good friend.

Sara would bounce back from this, just as Nick had bounced back from that fall last spring. Then...

Pain laced through dark dreams, and Nick found himself unable to stay in the blessed blackness any longer. He fought wakefulness; he didn’t want to be reminded, once again, of the way his life had turned. Nick had never been claustrophobic in his life, but after over twelve hours in a Plexiglas coffin, he was going to go insane if he again looked at the cracked, dirt-filling walls and the numerous ants slinking around in the green glow of the neon strip. Terror welled and he could feel the stale air closing around him again, the fire in a thousand places as the ants chewed on him, the weight of untold tons of dark earth pressing down on his fragile coffin.

He must be hallucinating; there couldn’t be any other answer. There was no way Sara Sidle could be whispering in his ear. Here, at the end of life, he had chosen to dream up Sara, the woman he had secretly desired for too long but could never have. The other investigator would have been annoyed with her friend’s fantasies if she’d known, Nick was positive.

The dream refused to let him find blessed oblivion, and Nick found himself pulled back by a whisper to the nightmare his waking hours had become. With a groan of protest, he tried to block out the pain, tried to fight for the darkness. Nick Stokes was ready to give up, if it only meant he didn’t have to wake up in that box any more. He wanted to cling to the forbidden fantasy that had kept him sane: the fantasy of Sara.

Brown eyes flew open at that third dreamy whisper, and Nick gasped at the intense light shining down on him. With a cry of protest, he flailed his arms and found himself held down by a sure, strong grip. That wasn’t cold Plexiglas; it was warm flesh and bone. Stilling under the strength of the grip, Nick fought to adjust his eyes to the light. When his eyes did finally process his surroundings, the CSI found he was looking up not at brown dirt, but brown eyes.

Nick sobbed and felt a touch glide over his welt-marred cheek. Those fingers were like a caress from Heaven and the man grabbed for the hand, reassuring himself that this was reality, that the confinement was over at last. Tears rolled down the once strong man’s cheeks, and he suddenly didn’t care that he was weak and lying in a hospital bed. He was alive and free.

The memories flooded back: the box, the voice, the pain… the rescue. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been in the medicine-induced sleep, but it had to have been hours. Gone were Catherine and Warrick, the pair who had accompanied him in the ambulance. Instead, they were replaced by the welcome sight of Sara Sidle, brown eyes tired but relieved, brown hair rumpled as if she’d just tumbled out of bed.

With a groan, Nick tried to push the image of Sara in bed from his mind. He let his eyes drift shut again, willing himself back into oblivion. At least in the darkness he could escape the strictures of worklife, could live with his dark obsession, could dream of the woman beside him.

Sara smiled down at him softly, her pretty, pixyish face a mere breath or two above his. My God, had Sara just kissed him? Nick tried to push the image away, sure he had dreamed the act; why would Sara be kissing him, after all? He closed his eyes again.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Sara’s amused voice brought Nick’s eyes open once more. “You aren’t going to escape that easy, Nick Stokes.”

Then, to Nick’s utter surprise, and secret delight, Sara leaned over and kissed him again. This one was no hesitant brush on the lips; it was deep and sure. With that one touch, the passion flared and Sara branded Nick’s very soul. Nick groaned, brought a hand up to tangle in Sara’s mussed hair, and returned the passion, kiss for kiss.

He’d face reality in the morning; tonight, he would cling to the dream of Sara.

It was much sooner than morning when the fantasy stopped and real life intruded. The other CSI pulled away, smiling down at the injured man. Nick made a sound of protest and reached for her again, but Sara pushed his hands away with an easy laugh.

At the word straight, Nick felt embarrassment wash over him. Damn! He’d responded to that kiss like a man drowning, and it was most likely Sara’s wya of being a comforting friend: a way to keep Nick awake. Letting his hand drop back to the hospital mattress, Nick frowned at the woman. Hurt, he softly rasped, “I’d rather not be with you, Sara.” He wanted to be alone with the embarrassment.

Laughing still, Sara shook her head, her tired brown eyes dancing. “Come on, Nick, it’s no good. You want me, and I’m willing to be caught.”

Suddenly confused, Nick asked, “What the hell does that mean? Why would I want you? We’re coworkers, Sara.”

“Coworkers, partners, possible lovers, Nicky.” Sara tossed him that electric smile she rarely used, and Nick had to fight the heart-flip it always caused. “Come on, Nick. You can’t deny that we’re good together. You responded to me just as much as I responded to you. Coworkers be damned, that's electric.” Sara’s voice was laughing, far from her normal pessimissim.

Nick frowned up at the woman, suddenly wary. This had to be a joke... Sara, who had been avoiding even a simple dinner date, couldn’t possibly be saying that she was... interested in something deeper with Nick. “Sara, I’m not up to a joke.”

“Known what?” This didn’t sound like any joke Sara could be playing. Could she really mean? Nick barely dared to breathe.

“That I’m interested in you, Nick.” The brilliant smile gentled to a soft, serene look Nick had never witnessed before. It made the man fall in love all over again, but this time he dared to hope that it was a love that might be returned.

The brown eyes danced as Sara let out a gentle laugh, leaning over to quickly kiss Nick once more. When Nick hesitantly responded, she didn’t pull away and the kiss lengthened into several minutes. Finally, Sara stopped and smiled at Nick once more. “Yeah, I want you. I want to be with you. I want to make love to you. How much clearer can I get, Nick? I think you’re sexy and hot and the most desirable man I’ve ever seen.”

“Whoa... uh... Sara... uh...” Nick’s brown eyes widened. This was certainly no joke; Sara was serious. And Nick was suddenly afraid to take that step he’d been fantasizing about for the past three years. “I... uh... admit that when you kissed me... uh...”

Sara sat up, laughing, amazingly not taking offense or quickly trying to cover some embarrassing confession she suddenly regretted. “Nick, I’ve let you get used to the idea for three years. How long are you going to make me wait?” She leaned over again and whispered, “You’ve wanted me from the day you spilt your soda on me. Why can’t you accept that I will make you as happy as you’ve been dreaming?”

Talk about straight to the point; then again, Sara had never been one to back down from what she wanted. Look how she’d gotten a CSI position despite all the mistakes and barriers that had fallen her way. When Sara Sidle really wanted something, she found a way to get it, and Nick had to admit, it seemed like Sara really wanted him.

With a sigh, Nick hesitantly reached up to touch Sara’s cheek, almost afraid that this was just another dream caused by the insanity of being locked in a box underground. When the vision didn’t evaporate, when he felt the warm, soft jaw below his questing fingers, Nick let out a groan. “You want me? But... we’re coworkers, Sara. Work relationships rarely ever work.”

“And we're good friends.” Sara closed the distance between them and gave him another long, passionate kiss. “I've always felt friends made the best lovers; after the passions gone, there's always something left to talk about.” Another kiss and Nick’s head whirled. “And as soon as you’re out of the hospital, I’ll prove it to you.” She moved in for another kiss, and finally, Nick believed it was possible; it felt so good, so right.

As he tugged Sara down to seal their lips together, he knew that he’d finally found the person who could chase all the nightmares away.

FIN

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