Disclaimer: Don't own CSI.

I was happy to be in Vegas.

I mean, can you tell me on person who's come to Vegas and isn't happy? Well, besides people who have lost all of their savings on one crazy night of gambling. Those people are probably really pissed most of the time, as any sane person would be.

My transfer from the San Diego crime lab to the Las Vegas one was a huge move for me. I'd had to make prior arrangements months ahead of time, and hadn't even had to fly in for an interview. San Diego wanted me gone, and would transfer me to any of my choice locations. I think I was a bit too much of a strong personality for them- my loud determination was probably overwhelming. I'd shot at too many unnecessary things. And to be quite honest, San Diego was boring as hell. Never any interesting cases, just your typical gang shooting every once in a while. It was, for the most part, a quiet town.

My flight to Vegas was agonizing. I was jittering with excitement to get inside my new apartment, get away from the beach. And as soon as I reached the airport, pulling out my excessive amount of luggage behind me carefully, my eyes scanned everywhere. Las Vegas was a huge crime city, hence why I was here. And I probably looked pretty easy to steal from. 5'4, thin as a stick, not knowing where I was really supposed to be headed. And then I saw the sign.

Miss Alexandra Smith.

I groaned, hating when people used my whole name. I went by Lexi, not Alexandra. That was some old fashioned name my excuse for a mother had decided sounded beautiful. Lexi was strong, loud. I walked over to the guy who was holding the sign, and I raised my eyebrows. He was a cop, or some guy with the LVPD. I smiled up at him.

"You're here for me?" I asked.

He looked down at me and sighed. "You're Alexandra Smith?" he questioned in disbelief. I rolled my eyes.

"Yes," I said irritably. "Do I not fit your description or something?"

He shook his head. "Your height's listed as 5'5, and I can see you're about 5'3."

"Are you a master at height guessing or something?" I snapped, glaring at him as he just shook his head. "I'm 5'4, actually."

"I'm Undersheriff Ecklie," he said, extending his hand. I shook it, and looked up at him.

"Presuming you already know who I am, why are you here?" I asked cautiously. My shift wasn't supposed to start until tomorrow night.

"Change in schedule, you start in…" he checked his watch. "3 hours. I've been asked to drive you to your house."

I nodded, grabbing my luggage and following him as we walked in an awkward silence out of the airport. "You know, I've got a daughter about your age. She's a CSI too," he mused as we walked out of the airport and into the chilly November wind.

"Oh really?" I asked, my feet already aching from the lack of support in my flats.

He nodded. "Her name's Morgan. She's a CSI here."

"As you've already stated," I muttered, and when he looked at me, I just smiled. "My rental car waiting at my house?"

"Yes," he answered as we finally reached his car. I chucked my entire luggage in his trunk, and he checked his watch once more. "Looks like by the time you get to your house, you'll have about an hour before shift."

I groaned. "You guys really don't wait around, do you?"

He actually laughed, which I found odd for his seemingly solemn attitude. "Blame Vegas, not us," he said as we got in the car. "It's never seemed to wait around."


These Vegas drivers are really pissing me off.

By the time Undersheriff Ecklie had dropped me off at my apartment, I'd hardly had enough time to take a shower and do my hair before I had to leave. According to this cheap ass GPS my backstabbing friend, Grace, bought me before I left for Vegas, it would take exactly 15 minutes to get the crime lab.

More like 25.

Irritated, I looked at the clock. 10 past 11. I sighed, pulling into the parking garage and hurriedly grabbing my purse. As I quickly walked towards the elevator that led to the door of the crime lab, I could hear laughing. Looking to my right, I could see a young girl with blonde hair, laughing quietly at another girl with short brown hair. I stopped momentarily, and then proceeded once I figured out that they hadn't noticed me.

Pressing the down button as quickly as I could, the elevator doors shutting and taking me downwards. I looked at my cell phone, glad to see I hadn't received any phone calls or text messages about my lateness. As soon as I heard the ding, I didn't even think as I rushed out of the elevator, running right into something.

I fell backwards, hitting the ground. I rubbed the back of my head, which was throbbing in irritation as I stood up and brushed my blonde hair out of my face.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked. The southern accent made my head snap up, and there stood a guy, looking at me kind of in a concerned way. The woman that stood next to him was clearly trying hide her laughter.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, smiling. "My fault, really. I'm just running late, and of course on the first day." I laughed, shaking my head.

"You must be the new girl then?" the woman observed, raising her eyebrows at me. I nodded. "I'm Julie Finnlay, but they call me Finn."

I grinned, shaking her hand. "Alexandra Smith, but they call me Lexi."

She laughed, pointing at me. "I like this one, Nick!"

He rolled his eyes, but shook my hand none the less. "Nick Stokes," he greeted, looking over at Finn. "They just call me Nick."

I let out a slight laugh. "I think I should be going, I'm 15 minutes late," I sighed, checking my watch.

"Yeah, have fun," Finn said as her and Nick stepped into the elevator. I smiled, now walking away and practically running out of the parking garage. As I reached the door, I took a deep breath. The first day is always the worst, no matter which crime lab I worked at.

I opened the door, fixing my hair, which I had carefully straightened at one point, although I figured it was probably all in vain with myself running into people.

"I'm looking for the CSI Supervisor?" I asked the receptionist nervously.

"Down the hall, third door on your left." She answered in a monotone voice, not looking up from her computer.

"Thanks." I said quietly, walking down the hall. I felt like an outsider almost, and was greeted by many stares as I walked down the hallway. Once reaching the door the receptionist had told me about, I noticed it was wide open. I stuck my head in, knocking on it.

A man looked up from his papers, looking me in the eye. "You're the new kid." He stated, setting down the papers.

I cleared my throat. "Lexi Smith," I said, shaking his hand as I walked into the room.

"DB Russell," he said, narrowing his eyes at me. "You came from San Diego." It wasn't really a question. I nodded, and he looked back down at his papers. "Your supervisor described you as impatient, opinionated, and as he said here, 'a bit too much of an adrenaline junkie for San Diego.'"

I blushed. "Yeah," I admitted. "It's a quiet town."

"I've gathered that," he chuckled. "Which is why you came to Vegas."

I nodded. "I'm sorry if he gave me a bad report but-"

"No," he said, holding his hand up to stop me. "He also said that you were brilliant, a quick thinker, observant, and one of the best CSI's he's ever had."

I blushed even more as he said it. "Oh."

"Which is why I've got you on a case with Greg and I," he said, looking up and smiling at me. "Your vest is in your locker." He threw a key at me, and I caught it easily. "You play sports?"

I grinned at him. "Just a science geek."

I walked out of the office, waving at him. I wandered around aimlessly, not really sure where the freaking locker room was. I finally found it, and stuck my key in the locker.

"Hey, who gave you that key?" a nosy voice said from behind me. I spun around, just as my locker was open. A man, who was glaring at me, leaned against the door frame, looking at me expectantly.

I couldn't exactly figure out what to say to the man in the lab coat, but as I opened my mouth to explain that I was the new CSI, someone else spoke.

"Hodges, who are you pestering now?" a voice asked. I looked up from where I'd been staring at the ground, and saw another man, maybe only a few years older than me.

"She was getting into someone's locker," the man, who was apparently Hodges, explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologized. "I'm the new CSI; I just went to the locker DB said was mine."

The man blushed in embarrassment as I pulled out my vest and gun. "Oh no, I should be sorry," he said, sounding disappointed. "I'm David Hodges, one of the lab techs around this place."

I shook his hand, and smiled at him. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lexi Smith."

The guy next to him beamed at me. "I'm Greg Sanders. Fellow CSI," he said, looking over at Hodges. "Unlike some people."

I smiled at the two of them, rolling my eyes. "You must be the one who's on this case DB's sending me on with him."

Greg nodded. "That would be me. You know, you don't really look like a nerd, which is odd because I swore DB said you were from Stanford-"

"I am," I interrupted. "Majored in forensics."

He smiled. "We should get going on our case," he said, motioning for me to follow him. I sighed, walking away from the locker room.

"Bye Hodges!" I called, waving to man who just nervously smiled and waved.

"You really shouldn't be that nice to Hodges," Greg said, looking over at smirking at me. "He's really annoying."

I laughed, and we entered DB's office, where he was still reading over papers that were obviously about me. Greg cleared his throat, and sat down in a chair, gesturing for me to sit in the chair next to him. I took my seat, taking a moment to look around my supervisor's office. He obviously had a family, judging by the countless pictures of kids that looked like him, and all of the frames hung a little crooked on the walls.

"Held in a hostage situation while you worked in Phoenix, huh?" he asked, his eyes not leaving the paper.

I nodded slightly. "That was within my first week as a CSI," I laughed nervously. "No one got hurt, still scared the crap out of me though."

"You shot the guy," DB said, setting down the papers and standing up. "Just as he was about to shoot one of your fellow CSI's."

I nodded, following suit as we all walked out of the room, Greg glancing at me. "Did you kill him?" he whispered, not wanting DB to hear.

"She did." DB answered. I tried not to laugh at DB's response to Greg's poorly hidden whisper. "Bullet to the chest."

Greg gave me a playful slug in the shoulder. "Nice one."

I rolled my eyes. I hit him back, as hard as I could. He snapped his head in my direction. "I'm not a dude."

He just laughed at me and gingerly rubbed his shoulder. "You sure about that?"

"Did that really hurt?" I asked, feeling guilty. Already hitting co-workers on the first day.

He shook his head. "You're what…5'2? And like a 100 pounds?"

I frowned. "I'm 5'4."

He smiled at me, and we walked out of the office, following DB back out into the parking garage. "Sure you are."


I rubbed my eyes as I looked through the microscope once more as I sat in Hodge's lab. Clearly carpet fibers, but I was just re-checking. Some punk came in and shot some old couple for whatever reason. Probably to rob them, we'd assumed, but nothing was missing. Our only suspect was their neighbor, and DB figured he'd had to roll on the ground to avoid the bat the old man swung at him(I actually found that part kind of funny), which was what I was testing. Carpet fibers from the suspects' jacket.

Hodges had run off to get some coffee, and as I lifted my face from the microscope, I ran a hand through my hair, then heard quiet conversation outside the door.

"She's smoking, Greg," a voice said, and I had to strain my ears to hear it. "You should go for it."

"I don't go for girls because they're smoking hot," Greg scoffed. My eyes widened, and I really wanted to hear the rest of the conversation. "I like them for their personality."

"Greg, she's a freaking genius. Stanford alum too. And you're going to say she doesn't have the personality?" Nick asked in disbelief. I felt my heart sink a little bit. I really liked Greg, he was nice. And cute. But that was irrelevant.

Greg groaned. "No, she's got the perfect personality," he said quietly.

"I'm missing the problem here," Nick said.

"I just met her," Greg answered, sounding unsure.

"Either you go after her or I do," Nick said bluntly. I blushed, a terrible habit of mine. I didn't like Nick like that and-

"Nick, she's way younger than you. Leave her alone," Greg said, kind of laughing at the end. There was silence, and the two walked into the lab. I was still gazing out past the microscope, my mind wandering at the words I'd just heard.

"Sleeping on the job?" a voice asked loudly in my ear. Even though I knew he was there, I jumped, and spun around to face Greg. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"Carpet fibers," I said simply, yawning and handing them the sample. Nick checked his watch.

"20 minutes till shifts over, I'm saying we get that suspect next time," he said wearily, looking at me carefully. "Are you even awake?"

I gave him a lazy smile. "Kind of."

"Not your normal sleeping schedule?" Greg guessed, leaning against the counter.

"Who else, besides the CSI and graveyard lab techs, has a sleeping schedule like this?" I exclaimed, fighting yet another yawn.

Greg shrugged, and Nick just chuckled. "I'm going home, I pulled a double yesterday and I'm still tired as hell…"

"Yeah, see you tonight Nick," I said, smiling and waving as he left the lab. Greg wandered around, playing with a microscope here and there.

"Your family from San Diego?" he asked curiously, not even looking up at me. I tensed at the mention of the idiots I have to call family, but I shook my head.

"Los Angeles," I said, looking up at him and pursing my lips.

"Ah, my family's from somewhere around that general area too," he said, nodding. "You miss San Diego?"

I snorted. "Yeah, right. Supervisor was an ass, had a clingy ex-boyfriend, and the beach is full of sickeningly sweet couples. Um, no thank you."

He laughed, lifting his head up from the microscope. "Sounds like you hated it there."

"Sounds like you understood what I said," I retorted.

"Why'd you choose to transfer here?" he asked, stepping closer to me. "Could've transferred to Hawaii."

"After you've worked around the beach for 2 years, you really don't want to go to a different one," I said, shrugging. "I wanted Vegas because it's the best crime lab. Ever."

He nodded, smiling to himself, like he knew something I didn't. "What?" I asked, hitting his shoulder playfully. "You know something I don't?"

He shook his head. "We've just had a lot of CSI's come and go. You gonna give up on us once you get tired of seeing the desert?"

I lost my smile, now having to put serious thought into this. "I don't think so," I said softly. "Just depends."

"On what?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Whether I fit in. Whether I like the city. And whether Tanner finds me or not."

"The said clingy ex-boyfriend?" he guessed.

"I switched apartments 7 times last year," I said, looking him in the eye. "Bastard always managed to find me."

"Why does he keep looking for you?" Greg asked, sounding confused.

"Wants me back," I said simply. "I caught him cheating on me. What was I supposed to do, stick around?"

Greg shook his head. "Why do all the pretty girls always get screwed over?" he asked, sighing and sitting next to me.

I blushed at his compliment, willing my rosy cheeks to please stop. "Story of my life," I laughed.

"You said you worked in Arizona?" he asked, leaning back in the chair.

"For 3 years. Then San Diego for 2, and now I'm here."

"State jumper," he noted, looking at the ground.

"Only because I'm avoiding my mom," I said quietly.

"Why's that?" he asked, his facial expression solemn.

I sighed. I was going to tell a mere acquaintance about my parents. Great idea, Lexi. "Dad was an alcoholic. Wife and kid beater, typical ass. Mom was a wimp, never stood up to him. He did the working, she did the stay at home part," I said, looking over at the microscope. "Never ending cycle. He worked, got home, drank, hit someone, went to bed, got up the next morning and repeated. Mom spent any spare time she had making sure I was hiding my bruises well. I hated her for it. She couldn't just stand up to him, be rid of him?"

Greg nodded, motioning for me to continue. "I wanted it to end," I sighed, closing my eyes. "I get home after school one day and here's dad, rounding on mom in the kitchen. She yells at him, he hits her. Something in me just snapped. I ran into his bedroom, grabbed a gun and carried it with me until their scene was over. I just waited for him to go for me, and as soon as he hit me, I shot him.

"I ruined any chance my sister had of knowing her father." I said softly, tears threatening to spill. "She hasn't spoken to me since that happened, and neither has my mom."

"How old were you?" Greg asked me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"16." I whispered, looking away from him. He carefully wiped away a tear that had fallen.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," he said, looking at me. "You sound like a badass."

Walking up the stairs of the apartment building, I scanned the hallway for my door. Once I found it, I fished in my pockets for the key. As I was unlocking it, I heard a cheery voice.

"Hello!" it called, and I looked down the hall, where a lady was running towards me, a young teenage boy behind her. I smiled, and the lady raced up to me, extending her hand. "I'm Monica Walker, your neighbor."

I shook her hand. "Lexi Smith," I greeted, smiling.

"This is my son, Aiden," she said, introducing the teenager. He was around 13, probably. I waved at him, and he just nodded in return.

"What brings you to this apartment building?" Monica asked curiously, putting her hands in her pocket.

"New job," I explained. "I work at the crime lab."

"Oh!" she said happily, grinning at me. "Aiden's got a friend who works there, right sweetie?"

Her son blushed, but rolled his eyes. "Mom, she's not a friend. She's just someone I met one time."

"Who is it? I might know her, even though it's only my first day," I assured.

"Her name's Finn," he said quietly. "She was on the case about my best friends' murder."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, feeling awkward. "I bet she solved the case."

"Very quickly," Monica reassured me, nodding.

"Well, if you guys don't mind," I said, feeling guilty. "I have to go. I need some sleep, worked all night."

"Of course!" Monica exclaimed. "Get some rest, Lexi. We'll see you around."

I nodded, shooting them a smile before entering my house and shutting the door behind me. I sighed, flopping down onto my bed. Luggage was scattered everywhere, and I groaned. I knew that as soon as I woke up, I would need to get my ass out of bed and unpack.

But as I drifted off to sleep, the only things that were crossing my mind was Greg and what I had told him.

"No, it's the second exit!" Greg insisted, pointing at a sign a few miles ahead.

"The GPS says otherwise!" I argued, pointing at it. He rolled his eyes.

"That thing's always wrong," he grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.

"Then why don't you just get rid of it?" I cried, tired of hearing its monotone voice.

He shrugged. "I should have driven."

"You can get us back to the Crime Lab, okay?" I compromised, looking at him hopefully.

He smirked and nodded. "Why are we even going out to this place? We're not getting any uniforms for another 15 minutes, they're doing something else."

"DB told us to go out here," I said, taking the second exit like Greg had insisted. "We can just sit and wait."

"Oh yeah, good idea. Let the suspect see our car and make a break for it." He said sarcastically, looking over at me.

I raised my eyebrows. "He won't. He's got 6 hostages, remember? He won't leave them."

He sighed, and I stopped the car as we reached the middle of the desert. I could see the house ahead, and hurried to hide the car behind a few trees.

"You sleep well in Vegas?" Greg asked as I turned the car off. I turned and faced him, pointing to the very small bags under my eyes. "I'll take that as a no."

He laughed, and I leaned back in my seat. "Sometimes, I wonder why anyone else would want a career besides this," I said happily, knowing we were about to bust this creep who took a family of 6 hostage. "Of course, when I was in San Diego I thought otherwise. It was so boring…"

"I think I would have enjoyed the beach," Greg pointed out, glancing over at me. "I snorkel."

"I tried that once," I admitted. "Not my thing though."

"Then what is your thing?" Greg asked curiously. "You can't be that obsessed with your job; there's gotta be something you enjoy besides busting people like this."

I thought for a moment. "I don't think I have one," I said softly.

He raised his eyebrows at me. "Not even shopping?"

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "No. When I was in college, I never partied or anything. Stayed in my room and studied."

"But when you got out of college, you had a boyfriend. So how'd you meet him?" he asked carefully, looking out the window. No cops yet.

"Forensic conference," I said simply. "And then, we started dating, and he was my 'thing'. He was all I focused on after work."

Greg looked like he felt guilty, and before he could speak, cop cars came flying out of nowhere, towards the house. We each grabbed our guns quickly, rushing out of the car to join them.

"You're surrounded!" a voice shouted through a megaphone. "Get out of the house or we'll be forced to come in."

There was no movement, and a cop kicked the door open swiftly. We filed in after the police. They fled through the rooms in the house, clearly confused when they didn't find anyone. They continued to look again, and that's when I spotted it.

In the hallway, was a pull down staircase that led to an attic. I quickly yanked on it, holding my gun carefully as I hoisted all 110 pounds of me up the stairs, until I was standing in the attic.

Face to face with the suspect, looking at the barrel of a gun.

Okay, so please oh please let me know what you think of this story, it's my first CSI fanfic (I usually write Harry Potter, lol totally different worlds here.) If you hate it, let me know, and if you love it, let me know. I really like Greg and OC stories, but I decided to change it up a little bit and put it in current season 12(with Morgan). I'm a huge Greg/Morgan shipper, but I like the OC's too.:) So yeah, don't follow or favorite without dropping me a review! REVIEWING HELPS THE MIND WANT TO UPDATE! Thanks.(: