Disclaimer: I don't own them. In a way, they kind of own me…

A/N: I've been dieing to write this character for forever, and here it is. Just a take on things. Interesting story. Please don't crucify me. Reviews are loved! This is just a one-shot. I hope you enjoy.

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My name is Alexis Baxter, and this is my fault. Would that it were so easy, that immediately after typing these words a huge burdensome weight would be lifted off my shoulders. However, no such luck.

Besides, it can't be my entire fault. Some of it is fate, and timing, and hormones. Most of it's my fault, though.

I guess it all started when I applied for a shift change. I'm a horrible insomniac, and something bizarre about my body chemistry makes it so that I can only really get a good night's sleep during the day, so naturally, as soon as I possibly could, I got on Night Shift. You see, I work at the San Francisco Crime Lab. Good thing I'm not a stock broker, they can't work nights.

Yeah, I'm a CSI. Like the glamorous people you see on TV up to their elbows in fetish crimes, midgets, and clowns. Except it's never really been like TV. Unless, of course, your chemistry class regularly appears on TV. I like to think that CSI's are the cowboys of scientist, but in reality we're just the science nerds of cops.

I hadn't been on the Night Shift for more than four months when we got a new recruit. I must've drawn the short straw, because somehow I ended up partnered with her for her very first case. Her name was Sara Sidle.

We were pretty screwed from the start. I'd only been a CSI for 5 or so years, and she was so new she was probably still wet behind the ears. Couple that with an unfortunate lack of evidence, and the luck of getting your crime scene rained on by an unexpected downpour, and we probably should've just shoved the file into the cold case section from the beginning.

But we didn't. I don't work like that, I don't quit. And evidently, Sara didn't either. She had that kind of fierceness where you just work on something until it kills you. Plus, she had talent. You can only learn so much about forensics, then there's the point where it's all you, all skill. Sara had the skill. I'll admit, I was a little bit jealous, she got things right off the bat which took me a good handful of times. Plus, she didn't vomit until after the autopsy, whereas I had ruined the Doc's sterile area with my puke.

Still, it killed her to put the case aside.

Which brings us to Unfortunate Coincidence Number three, a pretty remarkable feat considering I don't honestly believe in coincidences. You see, poor Sara looked so bummed after not solving her first case. I mean, I was bummed too. Every case you let go is one family that doesn't have justice, one criminal left out on the street, and one blemish on your solve rate. Hell, I needed a beer as much as she did. So I invited her out for a drink.

Basically, it was at the bar where I learned she was looking for an apartment in town. And, I was looking for a new roommate. Ergo: Perfection.

So we moved in together. Just like that. I didn't even interview her or anything. I mean for all I knew, she could've had foot fungus. It's so uncharacteristic of me to trust people, and I don't know what got into me. Coincidence probably. Fate…whatever.

Sara was a good roommate though. The only really problem was when she got worked up about something she would go on manic cleaning fits. I know, I know, you're probably saying, 'What's the problem with that?' But I'm not a neat freak. And she was. She's the first person to make my bed since I was like 15.

I think she had a crappy childhood. I mean we never talked about it, but I knew her mother was in jail, and her father was dead. Plus one time, her brother came over. Coked up out of his mind. Stole some jewelry from me.

Sara paid me for the jewelry, and I only accepted it because I knew it would make her feel better. I put the money towards my half of the rent, because it made me feel better.

Other than that she was cool. Smart, funny, you know. And despite the cliché, for once in my life, I had a gal pal. I'm not much of the gal pal type, as you might already be able to tell. People kind of weird me out. Luckily, people weirded out Sara too, so we got to eat pizza, drink beer, and talk about how much we hated the rest of the world together.

So, naturally, when Todd broke up with me, therefore canceling my Saturday plans one time, Sara offered to cheer me up in the only way she knew how.

Forensics Seminar!

I swear, to that girl a forensics seminar was better than a kegger. Personally, I hate lectures. I can't really learn anything without doing it myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm Phi Beta Kappa. But that doesn't make me all…there's no better word for it, Geeky. Sara was a geek. Bless her physics-loving-heart.

I decided to go anyway. It was about bugs. Better than the usual fare. I'm a biology girl myself, and hey, bugs are living, bugs are biology. Besides, afterwards maybe we could go to a bar, and I could find me a Todd-Replacement. Or was his name Troy? I can't keep up with these stupid men.

'Cept, this turned into the worst decision of my life. Dr. Gil Grissom taught the seminar. I'll never forget his name. He was kind of hot, I remember. But Sara thought he was all that and a bag of nachos with sour cream. Or maybe salsa; I'm unsure of Sara's nacho-dipping preference.

Sara and I are very different women. I mean, some women like the Spice Channel, and some women like Lifetime. Sara was very Lifetime. I mean, she had some wild stories from college, but don't we all? So, it was still a surprise to see her eye this man up.

It wasn't lust. It really wasn't. Such a pity, because there's a cure for lust. It's called 'damn good sex'. No cure for infatuation though.

She was prepared though to just walk out after the lecture was finished and never look back. Now, I'm not one of those people who can stop herself from meddling with people's lives. At the time, it seemed to me such a waste, seemed that Sara might be throwing away a chance at something nice. So basically I 'accidentally' upturned my purse, and had to pick every little piece of trash that had accumulated in there for the past year up off of the floor.

Sara bent down to help me and I struck, "You like him."

"Who?"

"Bugboy. I can tell, because halfway through the lecture your notes turned into Sanskrit."

Sara blushed and shoved at me, but I persisted, "Go up there and talk to him. Ask him a question."

"I'm not the kind of person who can just flirt with anyone like you, Lexi."

"Nah, don't give me that shit. You flirted with Bobby, and hell we were still dating."

"I was drunk, it's easier when you're drunk."

I gave a playful sigh, "Isn't it always? But that's besides the point. Go up there and charm him."

Sara gave me a dubious look, but by this time, I'd scooped up my purseful of trash, and I was practically dragging her towards the front of the hall, where Bugboy stood.

We introduced ourselves. He said he didn't like to be called Dr. I thought he was flipping crazy. If I'd spent all that money on college, I'd want a tattoo on my forehead, t-shirts, and a personalized license plate. As it was, it's a pity I couldn't file my taxes as: College Graduate Lexi Baxter.

They hit it off immediately. Turned out Sara had been listening to that stupid lecture of his, and actually had some valid questions. I just stood there awkwardly and smiled, because Sara and I had come in the same car. In hindsight, that wasn't the greatest judgment on my part. Here I was stuck in a lecture hall, while they got their science on.

They talked for what seemed like forever, and I just sort of stood there looking stupid. By this time the whole hall was empty, and I was so hungry I was eating my fingernails. Finally, Sara and Bugboy realized what time it was, oh, and that I still existed. Apologies followed.

However, said apologies weren't enough to prevent Sara from inviting Bugboy to dinner. I guess it's the eyes; he had such pretty blue eyes.

We all went to a pizza joint, because it was cheap and near there anyway. Bugboy and Sara shared one side of the booth; I and my cynicism shared the other. I had to light up after 15 straight minutes of scientific prattle, and dreamy eyed glances. Nothing brings on a nic-fit like dorky crushes.

Anywho, apparently Bugboy found cigarettes offensive, and he didn't smoke. Suddenly, Sara didn't either, even though I knew she had a pack in her pocket. She was so impressed by him professionally; I guess she would've said that she was totally into cannibalism if he confessed to being the lone survivor of the Donner party.

Don't get me wrong, I was totally happy for her, it was just, I didn't like the guy. Immediately. You could tell he was one of those guys who has every women wrapped around his finger, and he doesn't even know it. Smart, sexy, charming, dangerous. Besides, I could see it. He was far to into his job to ever be into her. Maybe…

Basically when he put up a stink about my smoking, I said I'd catch a cab home, paid for my pizza and left.

Sara didn't come home until late. Real late. Must've been 7 hours later. Any other women, I would've thought they'd pulled into a parking lot and fiddled with the stick shift, if you know what I mean. But this was Sara, and consequently they'd probably just talked.

Anyway, he walked her to the door. It was then when I witnessed the most dysfunctional human interaction ever known to man, through the peephole.

They were standing real close, talking in low voices to each other, and at the exact same time they both leaned in for a kiss. There was no one to blame, it was completely and totally mutual, and hell it lasted for like 30 seconds. But all of a sudden Sara pulled back like she'd been burnt.

"Sorry, lost my balance," she said.

"Right. And my mouth was open. So sorry," he went.

They'd just blamed that hot little snog-fest on gravity. Probably the two most logical people known to man were behaving in the most illogical manner possible. Tuvok would've blown a gasket if he'd watched this.

Sara got real skittish and slammed her key into the door and almost bowled me over as she opened it. He was already walking down the hall before she was all the way into the apartment.

"What the fuck was that?" I hissed.

"What?"

"You fucking kissed him, and you act like it was a mistake? What the hell?"

"It's just…a professional relationship."

"Right, and you were consulting his mouth for forensics advice."

"Shutup! You don't even like him!" Sara huffed, and she went off to her bedroom, locked her door, and left in the morning (whatever passes as the morning for a Night Shifter), before I even woke up.

I thought that was the end of that. But I was wrong. Turns out they'd exchanged phone numbers and email. They kept in contact. They'd call each other about cases. 80 of it was entirely professional, but there was that other 20 where there was something else. Something so not professional.

Sara claimed he was a mentor. Kinda like a father. The only time you act like that to your father is if you live in freakin' Arkansas. Sara's such a bad liar.

She was really focused on this guy. I don't even know if she knew it, but she hero-worshipped him just a bit. 'Grissom does this, Grissom does that.' If I had a penny for everything Grissom did that was better than whatever the hell I was doing forensically, I'd be a very rich women. Plus, I'd like Grissom better.

Things kinda went on like that. Then I got a phone call in the middle of the day.

"Whosit?" I asked; I was so freaking tired. Frankly, I was surprised Sara hadn't answered the phone.

"Sara?" Bugboy asked, but I was too tired to recognize his voice.

"No, the other brunette. The short one. Lexi."

"Oh. Can I please speak to Sara?"

"Who is this? Don't you know we work nights? We're trying to sleep. Is this a booty call?"

"NO!" Bugboy said emphatically, in fact I could practically hear his blush over the phone, "I'm Gil Grissom. I'm a friend of Sara's."

"OH! Bugboy. Yeah. You sure this isn't a booty call?"

I didn't let him answer, simply took the phone away from my ear and yelled at Sara to pick up the other line.

I pretended to hang up when Sara answer. 'Pretended' being the keyword to that sentence.

Apparently Bugboy was in trouble. Someone had been shot, and he was short a CSI. He sounded so distraught; it almost made me pity him. He wanted Sara to come down to Vegas, to help him. Hell, Vegas. The Vegas Lab. World famous! I probably would've come down to Vegas for him, just to get a chance to work with those people. Naturally, Sara accepted. I could tell she was already packing from the phone conversation.

Sara left a few hours later. She didn't come back for about a week. The moment she showed up, I could tell she wasn't staying. She told me Bugboy had offered her a job at the Vegas lab. She accepted, naturally. It was after all a once in a lifetime opportunity.

I wasn't so down with this. I wanted her to promise me that she wasn't just accepting this because of Bugboy. She huffed at me. We kind of left on sour terms.

I really thought that that was the end of my adventures with Sara Sidle. She'd left me a little card of contact information, and she offered to pay part of my rent until I could find another roommate.

Ultimately, I never found another roommate. It's hard for me to click with people, let alone allow people to share a space with me. So, I just lied to her, stopped accepting the checks, and tightened my purse strings for the time being. I didn't hear from her a long time after that.

A few years later, as I was in the midst of a much needed spring cleaning, I rediscovered her little card of contact information. Naturally, I did what any sensible person would do, and I sent her a Christmas card in the middle of January. It was mostly full of crap sentiments, and I offered her a place anytime she was in Frisco. I didn't seriously think she'd take me up on it though; Sara had always been a workaholic. I also told her she knew where to find me, unless she was a dumbshit who couldn't remember her former addresses and phone numbers.

It was a surprise to get a call from her. She said she suddenly had a lot more time on her hands after she'd had a fight with the Lab Director, and told him he kissed ass. That made me laugh. Sara usually didn't buck authority, but she did have a terrible temper. I made the offer to let her stay at my place and visit again, so she accepted.

She showed up a few days later, and we caught up on everything I missed. She told me about all the people she'd met in Vegas, and all the cool cases she worked.

I got to learn about Greg, some punk-rocker ex-lab tech who had a thing for her, and who was apparently hilarious. Oh, and Nick, who treated Sara like his little sister, even though Sara growled at him when he did. My favorite was Warrick though, who was evidently God's gift to women, even though Sara didn't think she could ever date him. There was some coroner's assistant who was getting married, and some old homicide cop who was apparently as sarcastic and as jaded as I was, and the ex-stripper who alternated between absolutely hating Sara, and working pleasantly with her as the mood pleased.

I'm not so good with names.

I remember that eventually we turned to the people she didn't like at the lab, and I got to learn about the dick of a new lab director who'd suspended her. There were some other minor characters of villainy, like the trampy little blond from days who'd just been put on night shift, or the snarky bastard in the trace lab.

She also told me that she didn't smoke anymore, and she was a vegetarian. Which sucked, and totally blew my plans of going to the old pizza parlor, smoking a few packs, and eating The Carnivore: 5 meats, three cheeses, two sauces, and one deliciously thick crust.

Conspicuously missing throughout all this talk was any mention at all of Bugboy, and anytime we even got near the subject she got kinda uncomfortable. I could tell that if this was still her house, she'd have started cleaning it.

So, I did what any concerned friend would do. I got her fucktastically drunk, and then I questioned her.

It had always been painfully difficult to get Sara smashed, but once you did, it was totally worth it.

That's when it all came out. About how Bugboy had done all sorts of weird things. He had lead her along, told her she was beautiful, and then turned her dinner invitation down flat. He'd confessed his undying love to a murderer, and then proceeded to ignore her. Now he was probably running around with the trampy blond for days (Snowy? Sopha? Sophia?).

Sara had a problem. She was in love. Not the beautiful made for TV movie love, the real painful love that feels so good it's painful. The kind of love that can make you feel like shit, pure and simple. The kind of love though, that no matter how bad it makes you feel, you don't want to give it up, because it would be like giving up a part of you.

Now clearly, this Bugboy felt the same way. He just didn't have the emotional fortitude to come out with it. Truth be told, neither did Sara.

Here they were, fucking killing each other, dieing slowly day-by-day, just because they can't confess they're true feelings.

It really pissed me off, and it got my mind working.

I let Sara sleep off her hellish hangover. She woke up the next morning, and didn't remember shit about last night, which was perfectly fine for my liking. She stayed a few more days, and then returned back to Vegas.

First chance I had, I went to Vegas too.

I did a little gambling, drank some, and then steeled myself up for the most daring thing I've done since the time I had sex on a water slide in the middle of the day.

Unbeknownst to Sara, I had stolen Bugboy's home address for her. I pulled up outside his townhouse in a rental car. He had an interesting place. It was like Dr. Frankenstein meets Ikea.

I knocked on his door, and prayed he'd be home. It was only about 5pm in the evening, but people like him usually stay at work even when they're not wanted. After a few seconds, I could hear noises, and I could tell he was home. He opened up, and gave me a puzzled look, but I could tell that I hadn't awakened him, or interrupted anything important, so I took my chances.

"Hi. I'm Lexi. You probably don't remember me, but I'm a smoker, and you don't like that. You love Sara. You know it, I know it, and I wish Sara knew it. You're being an ass! God damnit! You need to get your fucking head up from the fucking microscope and realize that you're inaction destroys not just yourself, but Sara too. If you hurt my friend again, I will bash you're head into the ground!"

I guess I must've been a little drunker than I had originally estimated, because something snapped and I sort of…punched him and broke his nose. I mean, it seemed like a good idea at the time, to accentuate my point. Then the cops came, and there was an ambulance, and people were asking if he was going to press charges. Pressing charges was bad, I mean they say 'What happens with Vegas, stays in Vegas' but that's not true if you work for the government. What happens in Vegas, gets your ass kicked off of the SFPD!

Luckily, Grissom was remarkably understanding, and he even let me accompany him to the hospital. The man lied through his teeth, he said it was an accident, and he said I thought he was an intruder.

Soon he was getting his nose taped up, and I was calling Sara who asked all sorts of awkward questions like, "What the hell are you doing in Vegas?" and "You did WHAT to Grissom?" and "Are you fucking nuts?"

Luckily, most of these questions were rhetorical and she showed up to the Hospital anyway. She walked right passed me, strode up to Grissom and he just looked at her with this look in his eyes. I mean…it was freaky. For a moment, I could almost understand why she liked this guy, I mean in his eyes he revealed every emotion; longing, desperation, loneliness, frustration, and love.

Then he spoke, "She's right Sara. I'm an idiot. I know I can't fix this, but I want you to know I love you."

Sara just kinda stood there, and for a minute I thought she was going to pass out. Then she turned around, punched me in the shoulder, and then hugged me. That's Sara for: "Don't ever do that again you crazy mother fucker…but thank you."

There problems didn't evaporate over night. But they eventually worked things out and got together. Like real together. I'm writing this from the back of a Vegas Wedding Chapel as Elvis tells Sara and Bugboy to hurry off to consummate they're "Hunka Hunka Burnin' Love."

The look on Grissom's face is priceless.

I got to meet Nick, Greg, and Warrick, who is most definitely God's gift to women. Plus, all the other people who Sara talked about. They seem pretty happy about this.

See, I've learned an important lesson. It's taken me 37 years (ok, it says 39 on my driver's license) but I finally learnt to butt out of people's business.

That said, my father always told me to take responsibility for my actions, even the bad one's. And this, this wedding, this love, this whole thing, is entirely my fault.

And I couldn't be happier.