Summary: Sam, the 22 year-old transfer from CSI Chicago takes on a case with Nick Stokes. Little do they know the danger they face when they come across a serial killer, whom seems to stop at nothing. NickxOC.

Canadian Winter

Chapter One

The Newbie

The night crawled its way once more across the Vegas Strip, and once again, Graveyard were on their way to their next shifts. Gil Grissom assorted the group together, handing out the usual cases for the teams.

"'Rick, you and Catherine are gonna investigate a break-in." Grissom said, handing the paper to Warrick Brown, who took it and eyed it.

"Two victims," he said, reading aloud to Catherine, whom was stood next to him. "Both with gun shots to the head."

"I doubt that's all it says," said Catherine, taking the paper from 'Rick and read it herself, her eyes darting from left to right and back again.

"And Nick," Gil said, handing over another piece of paper to Nick Stokes, "You get the honour of meeting with our newest transfer today."

"Huh?" replied Nick, suddenly taking a keen interest in the aged man before him. "A newbie? I thought that was just a rumour."

"Well, sometimes rumours turn out to be true, don't they?" said Grissom, a flicker of a smile twitching his cheeks. "Everyone," he added, holding out his hand as a young man entered the threshold "This, is Sam. Joined us from Chicago."

Sam walked into the corridor where they were stood. He stood somewhat timidly, his back slightly arched, as though he was about to run for the nearest exit. He was only about 5'7", sandy-blond hair and vibrantly blue eyes. His green T-shirt caressed what was sure to be a toned chest, his arms filling the sleeves of the T-shirt to which they almost stretched around them.

The group greeted him with friendly gestures, "Hi"s and "Hello"s. After Warrick shook Sam's hand, Gil turned to Nick and Sam.

"You two will be working on a suspected homicide." Gil said, passing the paper over to Nick.

Nick read the first few lines, pausing with a slight frown on his face. His brown eyes looked swiftly up at Grissom. "Vic was found in a trash can?" he said, Gil nodded, and his gaze returned to the paper in his hand. "Completely nude, arms and legs bound with duct-tape, head wrapped in plastic wrap, duct-taped shut."

"Yes," said Grissom, an almost sarcastic hint to his voice. He raised his hands slightly as if to say "any questions?" before the groups dispatched to their locations.

Sam and Nick walked out the front doors into the humid heat of another Las Vegas night. 'Rick and Catherine headed to their car, waving off Nick and Sam before pulling away, disappearing into the rumble of traffic ahead of them.

Nick headed to his car, Sam a full foot behind him. They got into the car, buckling up before Nick checked the mirrors, and turned to Sam.
Nick eyed Sam up slightly, taking in every detail about him, and the obviousness of his body language that Sam was hesitant and almost slightly embarrassed; his cheeks were flushed slightly red.

"So," said Nick, turning on the ignition, an inane way of starting a conversation. "You just transferred from Chicago?"

"Yeah," replied Sam, his voice breaking slightly, it was slightly higher than Nick was used to hearing in Las Vegas, but he didn't have trouble understanding Sam; he obviously was not born in Chicago. "I transferred here because I had to leave Chicago, too many bad memories of the place."

Nick pulled out of the car park and headed for the traffic jam ahead of them. He did not dare press on why Sam had transferred to Las Vegas, particularly the "bad memories" aspect of it. He didn't want to pressure the newbie on his first day.

"We've been hearing for a few months that someone was gonna transfer here, I'm assuming it was you all along?" he said, pulling up to a red light, as traffic streamed from either side of the road.

"Yeah, it was a bit of a hassle to do the paperwork and everything, but I just didn't wanna stay there any more. Like I said, bad memories of the place." Sam replied. He seemed fair, honest and open, but that was not gonna mean Nick was gonna ask why he left. Yet.

Nick couldn't help but notice that Sam was fidgeting with his hands, and his eyes darted around the vehicle, and the scenery outside. Seemed as though he was new to the whole concept.

"So how long have you worked with CSI?" asked Nicked, as the light finally flashed green, and they took the right turn into a new street just off The Strip.

"Oh, for three years." said Sam, in an off-hand kind of way, but Nick was impressed.

"Y'know, not many people can say they joined CSI when they were nineteen." he forced his voice to be one of airiness, rather than that of total surprise.

"Well, I studied hard at school and college. Science and forensics has always fascinated me." replied Sam, seemingly staring anywhere but at Nick, who kept giving furtive glances at Sam, but ensuring his concentration was on the road ahead of them. "I just wanted to get into this side of the law, and study crime scenes and everything, it just gives me a buzz, I can guess you can say.."

Nick stifled a laugh. "A 'buzz'?" he said, barely restraining his smile. "You sound just like Grissom. Loves his work. I don't think he'd leave the building if we didn't make him."

"He's just like me then," replied Sam, a small flicker of a smile darting on his face for a brief second, eyeing the prostitutes stood on the corner of the street. "I love everything to do with this, it's fascinating working from a body with maybe a few clues to cracking a case. Like I said, it gives me a buzz."

"I'm sure Grissom would propose here and now if he heard you say that!" said Nick, a laugh finally parting his lips. Sam giggle slightly, before scratching his nose and going back to twiddling his fingers.

They finally arrived at the crime scene. Tape had already been set up around the perimeter of the alleyway, an ambulance and three police cars stood at the entrance to the alleyway.

"Here we go, then," said Nick, unbuckling his seatbelt before getting out.

Sam did the same, before going to the rear of the car and removing the camera from its pouch, and putting the strap over his neck. He then grabbed a pair of latex gloves, and put them onto his hands, Nick also doing the same.

"Street's deserted," he said, more to himself than Nick. "Not a single car, or a single light on in the buildings." he added, noting the surroundings.

He walked over to the police officer stood by the tape.

"Sam Marshell," he said, flashing his new, shiny CSI badge. "Crime scene investigation."

"Took you long enough to get here," the officer said, before nodding, permitting them both to pass.

Sam didn't reply, but the camera was already in his hands, walking over the the large, industrial trash can at the end of the alleyway. The place was dimly lit, the only source of light from that of the solitary street lamp behind them in the street. The alleyway was a dead-end. The rough brickwork either side of them was brown and almost coated in darkness.

Nothing else was in the alleyway besides the trash can.

Sam walked over, stepping onto a small step ladder at the bottom of the can, before leaning over and taking in the sight before him. He suppressed the urge to look away immediately, and forced the camera to his eye.

Meanwhile, Nick was busy with his torch, scoping the area for any clues. He noted some tyre tracks on the tarmac, not only barely visible due to the darkness, but also the fact the tarmac itself was so dark.

Sam clicked away at his camera, ensuring he got a good view of the body each time. The body was blue, the man had obviously been there a while. He was rested on his stomach, trash bags around him, his head turned to his right. Sam photographed every detail, from his hands, to his toes, to the bag over the man's head.

The work took a long time, and the sky had begun to lighten as they progressed through the night. By the time they were done, the sky had become a vibrant indigo and purple; dawn was approaching.

"Okay," Sam called over to Nick. "Vic's been photographed, you can bag him up now guys."

The paramedics hurried over to the trash can and begun carefully lifting the body out. Sam took the camera strap from his shoulders and began walking over to Nick.

"Found anything at all?" he asked, staring at the tyre tracks Nick had spotted previously.

"Not really," replied Nick, his brow furrowing. "Seems the killer knows what he's doing. Nothing here other than those tyre tracks, and they might not even belong to his car."

Sam shouldered the camera once more and took multiple photos of the tracks, when the paramedics wheeled the body passed, they were in the middle of zipping up the bag, when Sam called them to stop, and took another look at the body.

"Now that's something I didn't spot." he said, his stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch.

Nick stood up and examined the body too. His brow furrowed once more as he stared at the body's torso.

"How did you miss that?" Nick said, a note of disbelief in his voice.

"I didn't move the body," replied Sam, putting the camera to his eye once more, clicking away.

The bare torso had what seemed inch-deep cuts across it, and the stomach had the word "QUEeR" carved into the flesh.

After the photographs were taken, Nick and Sam headed to the car once more, loaded up their things, and begun to head back to the Crime Lab.

Sam's head was buzzing with thoughts. "So there were no prints whatsoever?" he asked, almost timidly, but more out distraction to his thoughts.

"There were a few," replied Nick, turning right out of the side-street they were in. "But most were from what seemed weeks ago, y'know, from garbage men. I've obviously tagged them, but there were a few at the rim of the trash can. I'm wondering if those were the victim's." He fell silent at this point, as the mood became apparent to both of them.

"You're saying this guy was alive when he was plastic-wrapped?" said Sam, his eyes widening at the thought.

"Could be," said Nick, taking a tentative glance over at Sam, who's jaw was slightly agape. "We're bringing in the garbage can for testing, and we'll know whether or not he was alive when he was dumped into the trash can. Even if he was, he had no hope of surviving, that plastic wrap was wrapped around him very tightly. He probably had minutes, if that. But we'll know whether or not he when we empty that garbage can."

"But there wasn't any blood on any of the bags he was laid on top of." said Sam, mind whizzing with thoughts.

"The blood could've dripped its way to the bottom of the trash can," replied Nick, pulling into the car park.

"But that would mean the body's been there a while," said Sam, unbuckling his seatbelt and staring out at the increasingly-lightening sky.

"Yeah," replied Nick, getting out as well. "But that doesn't mean the guy wasn't alive when he was dumped in that trash can."

"Do you think he was cut whilst in the trash can? Or do you think it was done before?" asked Sam, hesitance in his voice, something was obviously bothering him.

"Hard to say," replied Nick, looking at Sam's vibrant blue eyes, the wind gently whipping the young man's hair. "All I can say is that the crime scene was impeccable. Whoever did it was either very careful, or cleaned up after themselves."

Sam slowly nodded, almost taken aback for a moment. He stood, the cool wind whipping his face, he stood, staring long and hard at the car's window, taking in his reflection, his past, his mistakes...

"You comin'?" asked Nick, who was stood at the door, an almost worried look on his face.

Sam eased up a bit, loosening his shoulders. "Yeah," he said, rubbing his head. "Yeah, of course."

And with that, he followed the CSI agent into his new home.

(A/N: Okay, REALLY random story here, but I was inspired watching CSI to do my own storyline. But, anyway, hope you enjoy! :D)