Disclaimer: Don't Own. Don't Sue. Do Review.

A/N: Hi. This is my first attempted at a CSI f/f. I'm used to doing Alias only, so please be gentle! Feedback is much appreciated. Good or bad I can take it. Feel free to e-mail me if you want. Well here it is. R&R and enjoy - Bex

It was a sunny day. Not unusual for it to be one in Las Vegas, but today felt special. Different. Rosa Walker couldn't explain it, but something about the Sin City had changed, unnoticed by most people and by the day that mirrored the last.

'Maybe it's just because I'm happier then normal,' Rose thought as she walked along the street from the bus stop, 'Even though I'm pretty damn happy most of the time. And why shouldn't I be? I love my life.'

She was in a rich area of large expensive houses. This place was paradise for someone like her. A lifestyle she would never posses, which she knew, and yet it did bother her in the slightest.

Rosa Walker, originally Lopez, was born in Venezuela and had spent most of her life being poor. She belonged to a large family with five other children and two adults. But that wasn't the cause of her poverty. The cause was her father's love of alcohol and his habit of throwing up all his wages behind the local bar. Then he would come home, completely drunk and hit...

She scrunched up her eyes as she blocked the memory out of her mind. No one missed her or made any attempt to find her when she ran away at 17 and came to live here illegally. She got a job at a clothes factory, sewing clothes, hardly earning any money for the mind numbing hours she worked. Three years later she met Paul and fell in love. He helped to pay the fight against the courts so she could stay in America, when she was discovered by the authorities to be an illegal immigrant. And they won. They had married and she got a job as a housekeeper. A husband, three kids and a good job, what more could anyone want? Rosa knew that coming from having nothing, to having what she possessed now, was good enough for her and more then she could ever had dreamed of.

Her husband had recently gotten promoted and asked her if she wanted to stop working, because he could earn enough to support them all by himself. But she refused. She loved her job. At the moment she worked for a couple, who she considered to be the best employers in the world. They were a young couple, Mr and Mrs Sinclair, but perfect in everyway. They were so understanding. Take today for example. Her eldest son had tryouts for his school basketball team and she had been invited to watch, which meant that she would be late to work. She'd asked her employers and without a moment's hesitation, they had agreed. She knew that they wanted kids and Jennifer Sinclair saw her family as if they were her own. Rosa couldn't wait to tell her that her son had made it onto the team.

She completed the walk to the large house. They had arranged a car for her, but she told them that she didn't mind the bus ride and the walk. She punched in the security code on the number pad, by the gate, and heard the whir and the beep as it accepted her code. She gently pushed the black iron gate open and walked towards the house. Then she hit a different code into the pad by the gate leading to the back garden. She was quite surprised that she wasn't run at or barked at by Indie, their black Labrador. Indie would never hurt her, because he knew her, but he barked like hell at everyone.

'Maybe he's asleep?' Rosa considered.

Shrugging it off, she opened the back door and walked into the kitchen.

"Hello?" She called, her voice still tinted with the accent of her native country, "Mr Sinclair? Mrs Sinclair? It's just me, Rosa."

There was no reply. She looked at the clock on the cooker. It flashed 12.18. Ethan Sinclair would still be at work at his father's casino. Jennifer Sinclair would be at university, studding to get the degree she was determined to have. Marrying into the Sinclair family meant that Jenny wouldn't have to work if she didn't want to, but she was determined to all the same.

Rosa patted her curly hair absent-mindedly, collected up the letters that sat on the sideboard and carried them to the study.

The study was a smallish, cosy room and was done in a Victorian style. She was only at the foot of the door, when she stopped dead and the letters slid out of her hand, cascading onto the floor. It was at that moment that she saw the lifeless body lying there with a glass resting next to it, as if it had dropped from the hand. She ran over and felt for a pulse. Nothing.

She searched in a panic around the room, her eyes misted over with tears, her head screaming that this wasn't happening. Then she saw the letter. The one addressed to all of his loved ones. The one full of his apologises. The one which said all of his final goodbyes.

A/N: What do you think? Should I carry on or give up and stay with writing Alias f/fs? Please hit that button now and tell me what you think. You know you want to.