Author: CrazyAngel

Disclaimer: I don't own Sara, Catherine, Grissom, Nick nor Warrick (although I'm planning to kidnap him and chain him to my bed…I was kidding. Really. I wouldn't chain him)

Author's Notes: What's your name?, Nice name…now [insert your name here] concentrate on what I'm writing…concentrate on E-A-C-H letter, you're calm, you're in a sandy beach, you're in Hawaii, everything is peaceful, the sun is setting, you're breathing slooooooooowly, inhale and exhale, in and out…now repeat with me [insert name]:





Sitting in the front seat of my car, peering through the windshield to make sure it was really him, I couldn't help but repeating the same worn-out- line used in almost every movie ever made: 'isn't this a small world?'. A line that didn't have much meaning to me until today. Suddenly I was imagining myself on a dusty old western film saying the same line to my nemesis after giving him or her my best ice cold glare.

I shook my head, sipped at my lukewarm coffee and dragged myself back to reality: parking lot , Las Vegas, an island of casinos in a sea of desert.

I didn't want to get out of the car yet, somehow I felt safe there. It was a stupid thing to feel at the moment and it reminded me of my childhood. It was the same false sense of security I used to have when I pulled my bed covers up to my nose as if they were some kind of protective shield against the imaginary monsters I'd seen in a prohibited horror movie. Usually hiding inside my closet I knew they were waiting to leap out and eat me. I smiled inwardly. Kids.

Two knocks on my window startled me out of my reverie. It was Nick. Great, now I would have to leave the car. Time to poke my head out of the covers and face the monster.

"Are you coming out or am I supposed to tell Grissom we all should meet here?". The always happy, cheerful Nicky. I answer no, I got out of the car and scan the parking lot, he wasn't there anymore.

"You heard about that new guy transferred from San Francisco?", Nick commented as we made our way through the parked cars. He had a strange smile, kinda like a nosy neighbor gossiping during a tea session, that betrayed the casualness of his comment. Nick was really asking me if I knew him.

"Dylan 'Something', I may have seen him a few times", I lied. Bad, bad Sara, go stand in a corner.


"He's already attracting some dayshift female eyes", Nick said after slumping onto the break room's couch and turning the TV on. No one else was there and this was the first time in my life that I actually wished I were late for work.

"Am I sensing a macho-rivalry towards this new guy?", I teased. Don't worry Nick, he's a self-centered, over-confident, blackmailing good looking idiot, those 'females eyes' will only need to date him once to discover it and run away to your arms.

"I'm a confident man, I don't believe in that 'this is my turf' macho crap", he stated seriously although he himself knew at some unconscious level that it was not true. I don't blame him, I'm pretty territorial myself.

"Of course you don't Nick", I said. I decided to sit beside him for the sole propose of hiding from plain view, where I could be easily spotted by Dylan Harris, my nemesis.

I snatched the remote from his hand and started to jump from channel to channel like a crazy kangaroo, not staying longer than two seconds on each. This would annoy most people, but Nick seemed to agree with my 'zapping' just fine. I stopped when I heard the word 'murder', I glanced at Nick and he nodded approvingly. Where many marriages had failed to come to an agreement, we scientists had done it in less than a minute.

"Cold Cases", Nick said, "Good stuff."

It seems that when you don't wanna bump into a particular person, fate or whatever you wanna call it puts him directly in front of you.

Dylan strolled gracefully into the break room without saying hello and whisked a small stack of papers off the table, I was hoping for the end of the world or an invisibility suit, but neither of them was there when he turned around and our eyes met. I remembered how much I hate him.

"Oh, hi Sara I didn't know you worked here!". We had one thing in common though, we were both liars. He extended his hand to me and I did the same, then he shook hands with Nick. A small polite courtesy that meant nothing if you knew Dylan. He could be shaking hands with you and plotting you assassination while he was doing it.

"Nick Stokes", Nick said smiling. I sniffed testosterone in the room, that and Dylan's expensive cologne.

"Dylan Harris", he said with a warm smile, "If you will excuse me, I've got some urgent things to do, see ya later Sara. Nice to meet you Nick." He flashed a winning smile and left the room.

"'See ya later Sara'", Nick cooed, "Did I see an old spark between you two?", he asked playfully while he strode across the room to get himself his second cup of coffee of the night.

The only 'spark' there was between us was the one that formed when our personalities crashed against one another like a head-on collision between two cars going at 160 m/p/h.

I could feel my eyebrows forming a frown "Oh shut up Nick, I barely know that guy". This lying thing was addictive. I turned my eyes to the TV screen again and feigned some concentration on what the narrator was saying. When I looked back at Nick, Catherine, Warrick and Grissom had materialized in the break room.

Warrick was waving at me from the table "Hey! Earth to Sara!". Everyone was staring at me.

"Huh? Yea-yeah I'm here", I stammered. I flipped a button and put the TV in 'mute' and found myself a seat at the table. To my right, Nick, to my left Grissom and in front of me Warrick and Catherine. All of a sudden it all felt weird. The sight of him in here, in Las Vegas had brought the past to the present and San Francisco to Las Vegas. I didn't like that city cocktail mainly because I had come to one running away from the other.

"Sara?". This time it was Grissom, "Are you listening to a word I'm saying?". Grissom's stares were far more intimidating than they appeared, although his intentions, at least this time weren't of intimidation.

"Err you were giving the assignments?", I tried to guess and for my embarrassment this time he wasn't doing that. Catherine smiled at my bad luck, I smiled too. "Sorry, Gris. Won't happen again."

"I was saying", he looked at me, I smiled again, "that we still don't have any assignments."

And how was I supposed to know that! I chose the wrong day to space out for a moment. Grissom continued "So go and do some paper work or whatever you have to do but stay close I'm sure something will happen tonight."

"There's always a wacko in Las Vegas." Warrick muttered as he poured himself and Catherine a cup of coffee.

Yeah, make that two wackos now.


'Face it Sara honey, we're in this together'. There he was again. His voice, always so arrogant.

I don't exactly know how memory works, but I know how mine works. I remember every book I have ever read and I could probably tell you the name of the book if you read one paragraph to me. That wasn't uncommon. It was when I had to remember specific talks I'd had with someone that everything got tricky. As time passed some things tended to be forgotten and the memory would get blurry and I remembered only scattered phrases and feelings. Again, that's just me.

I've had times in my life that weren't very pleasant. Some more recent than others and some less pleasant than others, they were all locked in a small drawer in some dark corner of my brain, accumulating dust. When one of these moments was pulled out of this dark corner and into the light I started to remember bit by bit what had happened.

'Face it, you should've been more careful'

'You are a despicable man, a pathetic excuse for a human being. I can't believe you took pictures…it never cease to amaze what people do to each other' (that was the line, wasn't it?)

'Oh, poor Sidle. Don't beat yourself up, your intentions were good'

Bits and pieces would pop up in some screen somewhere inside my head. Over and over like a scratched old record. Damned my brain, I wish I could turn it off. I try to distract myself by doing Grissom's crossword puzzle. Nick gives me a warning-you're-playing-with-fire sort of look and I smile.

I threw caution to the wind and read. "A small part or amount of something", I read out loud so Nick could participate, he shrugged his shoulders in a 'what-the-heck' expression and I continued, "Eight letters."

We both meditated for a moment and then said, "Fraction". I wrote down the word, note that I was using a pencil and not a pen. I wasn't that suicidal. I read again while I tapped the pencil against the table. "Short curved sword, blah, blah, one sharp edge used in Eastern countries." Nick raised his eyebrows, he was clueless. I counted the white squares again "Eight letters." I was not.

"Sci-mi-tar", I said as I jotted down the word. I genuinely love this moments. It was fun to be in a place with Nick without a dead body being present.

"What are you doing?". I tossed the small booklet away from me and stared at my nails in a pitiful attempt to appear innocent. Fortunately it was just Warrick. Close shave. I grabbed the booklet again and continued my illicit activity. Warrick smiled shook his head slowly and sat beside Nick.

"You have a death wish, girl?", Warrick asked. I was starting to feel at home and Dylan and San Francisco were almost in that drawer again.

"Are you afraid, Warrick?", I replied with a challenging expression on my face, if went down I didn't want to be alone, "It's just a crossword puzzle".

We all knew it wasn't just that, it was Grissom's crossword puzzle, ownership in this case brought a whole lot of new implications.

"Afraid, moi?. Never." Men. They couldn't resist a challenge.

"Watch it, Brown", Nick warned, he knew what I was trying to do "The lady's smart, this may be a trap." Warrick dismissed Nick's advice with a wave of his hand, he sat on the chair to my left and leaned over my shoulder to read the next word. We were quite close but I wasn't complaining.

"Synonym of extravagant, six letters". Warrick and I weren't exactly best friends but we have our good moments. Just like Tom and Jerry.

"Lavish", Nick shouted as if the word had been on the tip of his tongue for awhile and only now he had been able to get it out, "This isn't so difficult." Warrick and I read the next word. We looked at each other and chuckled.

I read "Land mine, tripped electrically, on command. Sends out a fan-shaped pattern of steel balls that shred anything in their path. Spikes hold it upright on the surface of the ground", I coughed and cleared my throat "You were saying?"

Without any warning Grissom was inside the break room, a loud siren screeched inside my head. Warrick covered me with his back and Nick stood up so fast that I could swear someone had pinched him in the ass.

"He-hello Griss, boss, G-man, how are you? Are there any assignments?", Nick babbled. I couldn't help to giggle as I threw the crossword puzzle under the table. I tapped Warrick's back to let him know he could assume a normal inconspicuous position again.

"What is going on?", Grissom asked, narrowing his eyes.

I think people develop telepathy at inconvenient times because in a cute chorus we all said "Nothing."

I felt like I was six years old again, climbing on kitchen furniture to steal cookies from a jar before dinner.


My shift ended uneventful. I called that a man found floating in a pool and a murder that practically solved itself, despite Grissom's teaching that sometimes the obvious isn't what had actually happened. Well this time it had.

So far I had successfully avoided any Dylan related thoughts. But my luck ran out when I was heading towards my car.

"Well, well", Dylan said, "I've been waiting for you." There he was, the devil incarnate.

I'm amazed at how people's manners and attitude change as the person to whom they were talking to changed. For example I like the people I work with so I'm smiley, mostly happy, curious, loose, comfortable and so forth. With this guy I literally mutate into a paranoid, aggressive, mostly curt, cold, temperamental bitch. I had my reasons. That aspect of my personality doesn't creep in unless someone invites it. You don't want to do that.

"I hope you weren't here all night", I snapped "That would make me feel bad". No it wouldn't. He was standing between me and my way of escape, my car. "Out of my way", I hissed.

"You haven't changed a bit, Sara", he was leering at me, something typical of him. He thought that intimidated women. It had the opposite effect on me, it made me want to shoot him, throw his body inside my trunk and bury him someplace in the desert. But that would leave clues. The guy pisses my off but I'm a CSI and above all I'm not stupid. I could do it some other clueless way.

"And I bet you haven't changed either", I blurted out, "Still taking crime scene souvenirs and screwing up evidence?", I asked with a smirk on my face as I revved the engine. He let out a fake laugh and glanced around the parking lot like looking for eavesdroppers or rather 'ear'-droppers.

"Still 'helping' suspects get away with murder?", he quipped. Harris 1, Sidle 0.

I stormed out of the parking lot, burning rubber as I reached the street. There wasn't much traffic, otherwise, at the speed I was going, I would've made a one time appearance in some paper's obituary.

To be continued…