A/N: Don't own CSI

I'm sorry this update is kind of late, some stuff has been going down. A girl in my school filed a RESTRAINING ORDER against me because she says I've been "bullying her". Might I mention that her mother smokes and uses weed all the time and was probably high when she filled out the TRO.

My court date is the 22nd, and until then, I cannot attend my school because the judge refuses to push back the court date. This is all extremely random and uncalled for, I promise you that you're not reading the writing of a bully...:(


"Wake up sleepy head," a voice whispered in my ear, and I forced my eyes open. Greg was lying next to me, and he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. "Happy Birthday."

"'s not my birthday," I grumbled, and rolled out of the bed, promptly hitting the ground. "Damn."

"You're 29, not 30," he pointed out, and I shook my head. "What?"

"Don't even put 30 in my mind right now," I sighed, and rubbed my eyes. "How much longer till work, Greg?"

"4 hours," he said casually, and I checked my watch. He was right, of course. "But don't you want to do something for your birthday?"

"Technically I'm not 29 for another 5 hours," I pointed out, and he sniggered. "But I am hungry."

"Of course you are," he said, and rolled out of the bed himself. "But you will notice I ordered your favorite."

"So considerate of you to get me pizza," I mused, and he grinned at me proudly. "You can't cook worth shit, so maybe ordering in was better."

"Yes, it was," he agreed, and enveloped me in a hug. "Plus, Russell's got new information on the gang bangers."

"Only took a month," I reminded him miserably. A month of knowing these people had killed a cop and shot Brass, with no trace of how to get the people.

"A new murder case has opened up," he told me, and led me out of the room. "Freaky case too. Chick looks like Sara."

"So therefore we can come to the conclusion that they're after her!" I said with a sarcastic enthusiasm. "Yay!"

"Well, she's with Grissom on vacation anyway," Greg informed me, and we walked into the kitchen. Sure enough, a boxed pizza sat on the counter, along with flowers. I blushed and turned to look at him.

"Thanks," I said, and sniffed the flowers. "You knew I loved roses."

"Pain in the ass to get them, too," he said, and opened up the pizza box. "You would be surprised how many people back ordered that stuff for Valentines Day."

"Worst part about my birthday," I said, recalling back when I was younger and always got roses from the science nerds on my birthday. "Everyone wants to get flowers."

"It wasn't the most original," he admitted, and handed me a paper plate with a slice of pizza. "But I already got your other gift."

"You should stop getting me gifts," I complained, and laid my head on his shoulder as he sat down next to me. "The necklace was plenty."

His eyes wandered to the necklace that still hung around my neck, and he smiled. "Only the best for you!"

"I'm not some trophy girlfriend," I scoffed, and he ruffled my already messy hair. "I'm smarter than all of them."

"You know you aren't a trophy girlfriend," he said, and rolled his eyes. "I would have to be filthy rich, remember?"

"Oh yes, how could I forget?" I asked, and he laughed as he bit into his pizza. "Honestly though, best birthday already."

"Yeah, I know I'm a badass party thrower," he said cockily, leaning back in his chair and nearly falling over. I grabbed the back of hit, holding him up. "Okay, but not the most balanced."

"Amen," I muttered, and jumped out of his chair.

"Look what I even remembered," he said with a smirk, and reached into the fridge, only to pull out milkshakes. "Vanilla for you!"

"You are seriously the best," I mumbled, and he kissed my cheek before sliding it over to me. "How the hell did I get so lucky?"

"Your good looks, dear trophy girlfriend," he said, and I scoffed, but refrained from hitting him. "You know I'm kidding."

"Maybe," I said, and swallowed a bite of pizza. "Holy God this is so good."

"It's nice to see you eat," he laughed, and poked at my stomach. "No fat whatsoever. Werido."

"I'm petite!" I defended, and he chuckled. "Not my fault I have the body of a 12 year old boy."

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, you do not, that is for sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, and he raised his eyebrows at me.

"Oh, nothing," he answered, took the last bite of his pizza. "You can have my crust."

"And you should swallow before you talk," I said, frowning. "But really, thanks for the birthday dinner thingy. I don't really know what to call it."

He swallowed pointedly and sipped on his milkshake. "Say what you want, but I cannot wait to show you your birthday present."

"Then why don't you just show me now?" I whined, and I jumped down from the stool, tossing my paper plate in the garbage. He rolled his eyes and tossed his in the trash as well.

"Nah, I need to save it for when everyone is around," he said cheekily, and wrapped his arms around my waist. "And 29 is not that old."

"As I've said before, Greg," I whispered, our foreheads touching now. "Most people my age are married and have little babies running around."

"If my mom doesn't drop hints, you do," he said quietly, his brown eyes connecting with my blue ones. "But I'll take what you said into consideration."

I gave in and kissed him, subconsciously thinking about how much more his hands were messing up my bedhead. I pulled away, and he leaned back against the wall. "Wonder what the neighbors think," I laughed, and he kissed my forehead.

"Doesn't matter to me," He said simply, and I leaned my head against his chest. "We're the best people ever, they probably love us."

"But we don't know any of them," I pointed out, closing my eyes and listening to the rapidity of his heartbeat. "At all."

He laughed, and I got goosebumps as his chest rumbled. "Yeah, we don't. But I have met the little girl down the street, she sells damn good girl scout cookies."

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing," I muttered, inhaling his scent carefully. "Buying cookies from kids."

"If we ever have a daughter, there's no way in hell she's gonna be a girl scout," he stated, and I chuckled. "She will be a scientist."

"Not everyone likes chemistry and DNA, Greg," I reminded him. "For example: Me. I really don't care for it. I was just really good at it."

"Our babies are gonna be geniuses," he said into my ear, his breath turning the tips of my ears bright red. "All 4 of them."

"God, wont Nana Olaf love us," I said, smiling to myself. "Lots of spebarms."

"And you've even got the lingo down," he laughed, and tightened his grip on my waist. I leaned back, so he was holding me up. "No wonder she loves you already."

"Your mother on the other hand," I said quietly, and looked away. "She hates me."

"I don't think she hates you," he said, shaking his head. "I think she just holds you responsible for my kidnapping."

"Hey, give me some credit!" I exclaimed, pouting. "It's been an entire month since anything happened to the team."

"Besides Sara's twin getting murdered," he reminded me, and I grimaced. "Well, not her twin. But the chick that looks like her."

"You know, I'm pretty sure Nick told me that this same thing happened once," I said to him, and he raised an eyebrow. "He said it happened another time too."

"Once," Greg admitted, and adjusted his spot where he was leaning against the wall. "Just once."

"You say that like not many bad things happen to the crime lab," I chuckled. "Name em all."

"The bad things that have happened in the entire crime lab? CSI's and all?" he asked in disbelief, and I nodded surely. "Let's see here. I can't even really put it in order…Holly Gribbs was shot on a scene, she ended up dying. My lab blew up when I was a little DNA tech-"

"You're kidding me, right?" I laughed, grinning at him. He shook his head and just kind of shrugged. "Who did it?"

"Catherine, on accident," he assured me, then continued his thinking. "Um…Nick was stuck in a glass coffin. We got him out though."


"Poor guy though. And Sara was kidnapped and stuck in a desert to die," he added, and I shook my head in shock. "We lost another CSI too. Warrick Brown."

"Who was he?" I asked softly, tracing a hand across his tensed face.

"Great guy," he breathed, and closed his eyes. "He was the first person who showed me how to dress and keep my kit organized. He was just…awesome."

"He quit?" I questioned, and Greg pursed his lips.

"Ah, no. He was shot and killed in his car." He said uncomfortably, and I nodded understandingly.

"I've only ever lost one CSI on my team," I said uneasily, and raked a hand through my hair. "When I worked in Phoenix."

"It sucks," he agreed, and played with the ends of my hair. "I miss him a lot. Not the same."

"It never is," I muttered, and he rested his chin on my forehead. "You'll be okay, baby."

"I already am," he whispered, and I smiled to myself. He cleared his throat. "Then we got Riley Adams, and later Ray. Riley ended up leaving, then Ray just went away after he killed this serial killer we were hunting down. Which eventually led to Catherine being demoted. When she was demoted, Russell came in, as well as Morgan. Then Catherine left after some assassins were coming after her, and she got shot. But now she works for the FBI and all is well."

"I don't think that's exactly everything," I said awkwardly, and he tensed up for a moment. "Henry told me about when you got beat up."

"That doesn't…doesn't really count," he said lamely, and I pulled away from his grip on me. "It wasn't that huge of a deal. I've already told you most of the story anyways."

"Minus the part where you get beaten and hospitalized," I reminded him, and he shrugged. "Greg, I wouldn't look at you any differently."

"I know you wouldn't, but you have to understand, Lex. That's a lot of baggage," he said shortly, and I kissed him firmly on the lips. His reaction was slightly slowed, but I pinned him against the wall, this time running my hands through his hair. I pulled away, and smirked.

"Trust me, we both have baggage," I smiled, and he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He said, and I ran a hand down his chest. "What?"

"Put a shirt on," I sighed, and closed my eyes. "Please?"

"So, new murder case!" I said, walking into Russell's office. "Greg says it's an interesting one. I want on it."

Russell looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Fine, you can join Greg and Nick."

"Thanks!" I said happily, and turned to leave.

"Only because it's your birthday, Lexi!" he called, and I stopped in my tracks.

"I'm still 28 for another hour!" I sighed, and check my watch. "57 minutes, to be exact."

"Just go help Nick and Greg," he laughed and I hurried off towards the evidence room. Inside, Greg and Nick were reviewing clothing.

"This looks interesting," I mused, pulling gloves on. "What's the story behind it all?"

"Female vic, Gertrude Kingwell, age 34. Tossed out of a car, body rolled down a hill. We're getting any possible prints from her clothes," Nick explained, and slid a picture over to me.

"They slit her throat," I noted, staring at the odd resemblance between her and Sara that Greg had mentioned. "Quick. Like they didn't want her to suffer."

"Or quick because they're gangsters and don't have the time to torture someone," Greg spoke up, and I quirked and eyebrow. "What?"

"You still think this has a relation to Sara?" I asked, trying to sound bored, but I couldn't help but agree with Greg. The whole thing seemed like he was right. Like they wanted Sara.

"Yes!" he insisted, and glanced over at Nick. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because we've heard zilch from the gangbangers?" I reminded him, and he rolled his eyes. "No communication with Sara or the lab whatsoever. If they ever wanted revenge, I think they're over it."

"They never forget." Nick said firmly. "Ever."

"Oh come on!" I sighed, and handed him the photo back. "Gangsters must be really stupid. There's gonna be prints all over that shirt. They don't have the time to be careful either."

Greg glanced up at me, and I looked at the shirt he was working on pointedly. "Just…just work on the shoes, okay?" he grumbled, and I picked up the heels.

"I'm sorry, was she a stripper?" I asked, examining the six-inch heels.

"Maybe in her spare time or something," Nick answered, but shrugged. "She worked at a diner though, so I'm really not quite sure."

"And besides, you've probably worn heels that tall before," Greg said, motioning to the tall shoes.

"Once," I clarified, and smirked at the heels. "When I was a senior. For prom, I went with a guy who was 6'3. At the time I was only 5 feet tall so I wore a pair like these to make myself seem taller."

Greg and Nick both laughed, and I crossed my arms. "You only grew two inches between your senior year and now?" Nick asked, and I set the shoe down.

"Four!" I declared, and he shook his head. "I grew 4 inches!"

"You are not 5'4, Lexi," he said. "There's no possible way you are that tall."

"Unless you're wearing those," Greg joked, and pointed to the heels again."

"I'll have you know that despite my height, I was highly respected in high school," I snapped, and Greg smirked. "Smartest in the science club, full ride to Stanford. So ha."

"You were respected because they feared you," Greg laughed, and handed the shirt to me. "Go along, give this to Henry. He's running DNA for tonight."

"Oh, I have nothing for Hodges?" I whined, and Nick tossed me a small container. "Sweet, what's this?"

"That's what you have to get it to Hodges for!" he reminded me, and I nodded. I took off walking down the hall, stopping in my tracks when I reached Henry. He was, as always, flirting with Mandy. Gag.

"Henry, I have some DNA for you!" I sang, and handed him the shirt. "I am just the messenger, I have no idea if anything is wrong or right with this shirt. Sorry."

"Thanks, I'll start on that. Hey, take this back to Ecklie please?" he requested, handing me a file.

"Ecklie?" I asked, and looked at him funny.

"He's taking over some huge conjoined case, it involves 6 or 7 different cities? All about some huge serial killer, and he asked me to get this done first. I figured since you walk right past his office that maybe you could give it to him?" he asked nervously, and I nodded,

"No it's fine, I'll drop it off. I was just asking because I haven't heard about this conjoined case yet," I explained, and smiled. "Bye guys, I'll go get this to Ecklie right now."

With that, I walked out the door and headed for Ecklie's office. I hadn't even been in his office, so I spent a fair amount of time wandering around and wondering where it was. When I did find it, the door was shut. So I knocked.

The door opened, and Ecklie greeted me with a nod. "Yes?" he asked, and glanced back into his office.

"Henry asked me to give you your tox reports," I said, and handed him the file. "I was on my way to the evidence room anyways."

"Thanks, Smith. Getting anywhere on that woman that looks like Sara?" he asked impatiently, and I rolled my eyes.

"Getting anywhere on your serial killer case?" I replied, and he sighed. "And yes, we're making progress."

"Just what I wanted to here," he said shortly, and shut the door in my face.

"Apparently someone's feeling cranky today," I mumbled, and walked back towards the evidence room. And asleep in the big chair, was Nick. And Greg was reviewing a few pieces of paper. "I was gone for 5 minutes, and Nick's asleep?"

"He's not asleep, he's resting his eyes," Greg corrected, and I smirked at Nick, who was clearly snoring. "He's worked his ass of this week."

"Oh I'm sure," I said, and walked over to where he was now looking at a necklace. I stood on my tippey-toes, trying to see what he was looking at since he was holding it so high. When I couldn't, I yanked his arms down.

"What?" he laughed, and pointedly lowered the necklace.

"I couldn't see it," I grumbled, and squinted. "Blood on the crystal in the shape of a fingerprint."

"Fantastic," he said and rubbed his hands together, though it didn't work that well because he was wearing gloves. There was a beeping noise, and I looked down at Greg's cell phone. He pulled it out and grinned, before pressing a button and looking at me. "Happy Birthday."

"Yeah, I guess I can't deny-" I started, but was cut off by his lips attaching themselves to mine. I took one quick glance around before kissing him back.

"Hey, get a room!" a voice whined from the doorway. I smiled and pulled away, tilting my head and looking at Hodges. "Thank you."

"It was my birthday present," I defended, and leaned against the table. "And what do you need?"

"I have your trace report on the shoe, Sanders," he said, and handed him a paper. "Car oil, on the bottom on the high heel."

"So she was in an alley?" he asked, and Hodges shrugged.

"Could've been anywhere, don't you think?" he rationalized, and I narrowed my eyes at him. "It's Vegas, plenty of car oil around here."

"I guess you're right," Greg muttered, and pursed his lips. "Thanks though."

"Lexi, if you can keep Sanders in this good of a mood all the time, I will be perfectly okay with PDA," Hodges informed me. I glanced over at Greg, who was blushing slightly. "Henry's almost done with your shirt, by the way."

"Yeah, thanks Hodges!" I called as he walked away from our evidence room. I turned and looked at Nick, who was stirring. "Well good morning."

"Yeah, morning," he grumbled, and picked up the paper he'd been reading over. "Why didn't you wake me up, man?" He looked at Greg when he said this, and I smirked.

Greg shrugged, suddenly becoming interested in the vics bracelet. "You needed rest, no big deal if you sleep a little for once."

"No one important saw, right?" he yawned, and rubbed his eyes.

"Unless Hodges is now important, then no." I answered, and Nick smiled.

"So, are we getting anywhere with this?" he asked us, and Greg closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Car oil on the vics shoe, Henry's running DNA on the fingerprint I had on the shirt. And Lexi just found a bloody fingerprint on the necklace."

"Lexi, Greg," a different voice said from the doorway. "And Nick, sorry. But Doc Robbins needs you, like now." Dave said, looking around at the three of us. "I don't know details, just that he needs you."

"Thanks Super Dave," Nick said, and Dave nodded before walking away. "You guys go ahead, I'll finish processing this stuff."

I rolled my eyes and walked down the hallway quickly, Greg right behind me. "You know, you really should have ran track in high school," he stated as we reached the doors to the morgue. "You're fast."

"Just at some things," I said modestly, and he laughed.

"Yeah, okay." And with that, he opened the door for me, leading me to enter the morgue. Which, in my opinion, was freezing cold.

"We're not gonna have to put on scrubs, right Doc?" I asked wearily, looking at our vic.

"Not necessary," he assured me, and I carefully walked up to the vic. "And I've got something new for you."

"What would that be?" Greg asked, leaning against me gently.

"Your COD," he said, and pointed to the vics throat. "This wasn't the cause."

"Then what was?" I asked, looking around her body. "No other apparent injuries."

"One must looked beneath the surface," he quoted, and motioned us over to her head. "Or in this case, the hair. Blunt force trauma to the head, caused her to bleed out."

"So he didn't kill her instantly," I muttered, and Doc Robbins shook his head. "Which do you think came first, Doc?"

"More than likely the throat," he answered, and pointed to the injury. "Wasn't deep enough to kill her."

"So when they figured out they didn't kill her right away, the beat her over the head with something?" Greg asked with a grimace, and Doc Robbins nodded.

"The angle and size of the wound suggests she was hit with a crowbar, or some kind of medal at least. And she was most likely standing up when she was hit. It was clean, one hit did the job."

"It knocked her out then, because she you said she bled out," I filled in, and he nodded again. "So now we need to go back to an alleyway and look for a crowbar, yay."

"Have fun!" he laughed as we made our way out of the morgue.

"Isn't it just a great birthday?" I said sarcastically, and Greg frowned.

"I thought my pizza and milkshakes were pretty good," he said meekly, and I grabbed his hand, intertwining our fingers.

"They were amazing, sweetie," I promised, and laid my head on his shoulder as we stopped in the middle of the hallway. "But I really do hate returning to scenes."

"You haven't been to this one though," he pointed out and I laid my head on his shoulder. "So really Nick and I are the only ones returning."

"Yeah, okay, smartass." I said playfully, picking up my head and continuing walking. He looked over and smirked at me, taking my hand again.

"Love you Lex." He said seriously, and I grinned.

"Love you too, Greg."

"Well hello, Lexi."

The words rang through my ears, and I my blood ran cold. I looked up, mortified at the words I had heard.

And smiling at me with pure satisfaction and happiness, was the one person I did not need nor want to see right now.



I hate Gove so much, yet I love his evil character so much. I'm sorry this chapter was a little short, I was gonna throw some other stuff in BEFORE I brought Gove back, but the moment was so perfect I had to throw him in there!:)

Yeah, I know you all hate me. Or love me. I'm not really sure yet, but I do know one way I can find out….


Thanks guys, you are amazing.(: