AN: I would not have guessed that my first fanfiction story would be a C/S one, but after reading all the different relationship combinations CSI has to offer, I was the most impressed with this one. I always found it interesting to see the different ways authors brought these two strong characters together. And oddly enough, since the show seems to cast them against each other quite a bit, I always found the C/S combination the most believable.

Needless to say, I have been reading many of your guys' amazing stories throughout the years. I have finally found the time to complete one of my own. I hope you don't mind me playing in your world for awhile – I'll be sure to return the keys when I'm done.

This story is pretty long and has already been finished, so updates should occur pretty regularly. Reviews are always welcome.

Disclaimer: If you really want to sue me for the loaf of bread and staple remover that are my sole possessions, they're all yours.

Enjoy.

Chapter 1:

Collin is dead.

His smile and sparkling blue eyes never again to light up my ER.

Well, not technically my ER, but I like to think of it that way. After all, I will humbly tell you that it is the nurses that are the unsung heroes of any hospital. The ones that get to spend the most time with their patients, get to know them by their name instead of their vital statistics. The ones that get to put their heart into their patients, take a vested interest in their lives – whether it be frowned upon or not.

And that, my friends, is why I am sitting at a bar, trying to drink away the memory of Collin's cold, pale face and sobbing mother. To erase the feel of his hand growing limp in mine as he finally gave up his brave fight against leukemia. He was a frequent visitor to our oncology ward, and most definitely our favorite visitor. I still can't believe he won't be showing us any more of his magic tricks or his soccer skills.

Fuck, I need another drink.

I am about to hail the bartender to order a second beer when I realize what I am doing. Collin's father was an alcoholic. Started drinking the day after his son was diagnosed with cancer. Collin never said anything, but I could tell that in his 11 year old mind that he thought it was his fault. Way to honor his memory, Nance.

Shaking my head, I gather my things and head to the door to go home. The cool Nevada night is a welcome replacement to the stale air of the bar. I inhale deeply and reach out to unlock my car door.

That's when I hear what sounds to be some sort of a scuffle coming from the back of the parking lot.

Pulling out my cell phone in case I need to call the police, I cautiously approach the source of the noise. I know, it's like the blond girl who runs into the house with the serial killer. But I can't help it – someone could be injured and in need of assistance.

I am glad to see that the parking lot is very well lit, but it also brings the horror of the situation to light, literally. There is a well built male beginning to advance on a thin brunette female.

"What the fuck did you say to me?!" The anger in the man's voice is enough to tell me that this situation is not going anywhere good. I am about to call 911 when the brunette snaps into action. I hadn't even noticed the knife the large man held in his hand until it was somehow miraculously ripped out by the woman and sent hurtling into the shrubbery.

The man grabs the woman by her hair and slams his fist into her face. I cringe as I see blood pour out of her nose and mouth. She hits the ground just as I have pulled the phone open to dial. My actions stop in shock when the young woman snorts with laughter before spitting some blood out onto the pavement.

Her voice is raspy when she speaks. "You heard me loud and clear, asshole." I really can't believe this girl. Is she trying to get herself killed?

I needn't have worried.

As if possessed by the devil himself, the woman gets to her feet, albeit a bit slowly, and smacks her own fist into the man's face. I can hear the crack of his nose from where I am standing. I am at a loss for words as to what happens next.

The brunette continues to wail on the man, landing blow after blow until the man crumbles to his knees. It is obvious that the man had been heavily drinking, aiding the woman in her attack with his awfully slow reaction times. However, even so, the anger in the woman's eyes as she pounds her fist into his face is almost animalistic. I have never seen that sort of pure rage in a person before. I really don't know who I should be helping at this point.

Just as the man seems about to lose consciousness, the young woman appears to come to her senses a bit. Breathing heavily, she leans down close to the man's ear.

"If I ever find you around here so much as looking at a girl the wrong way, I won't hesitate to finish the job. Like they taught you in the 6th grade, no means no. You're lucky that woman took off before I could convince her to convict your ass for attempted rape. Now get the fuck away from here."

The man stumbles to his feet, his eyes never leaving his shoes, and staggers to the bushes where he grabs his fallen knife before scurrying off into the shadows.

I am still standing there, shocked into immobility, mouth hanging open. Much to my disbelief, the woman turns to me and looks me dead in the eye.

I hadn't realized she had known I was watching her this whole time.

"You really shouldn't approach these sorts of situations. You could have gotten hurt." Without another word, she grabs her keys from her pocket and stalks off towards what I assume to be her vehicle.

She is limping very badly, and for the first time I can see through her torn jeans what appears to be a large gash in the thigh of her right leg. The man must have stabbed her with the knife before she was able to wrestle it away from him. My nursing instincts kick in and I hurry to catch up to her.

She doesn't seem like the type to want to be touched, so instead of grabbing her arm I settle for stepping in front of her to block her path. "You need to go to a hospital and get that leg looked at."

She doesn't even stop and simply limps her way around me.

There is no way I am letting her get into her car and drive away. She could have severed her femoral artery and bleed out behind the wheel, a lose-lose for everyone involved.

I feel her stiffen as I have no choice but to grab her forearm. She turns to me, and instead of the expected rage, I see a strange gentleness. But there is still something utterly haunted in her eyes, making me shudder.

Her voice is hoarse, but her request is stated with strength. "Please, do not touch me."

I really don't know what it is, but something about this much-too-thin and bleeding woman makes me feel like I have seen her before. Or that I know her in some way.

Shaking my head, I remove my hand. "I'm sorry. Look, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a nurse and I would really like to take a look at your leg."

She stares at me for a minute or two with her hazel eyes, almost as if she is trying to see deep enough to know if she can trust me.

"No hospitals."

I guess I will have to take what I can get.

"Fine, no hospitals. But you have to let me take you to my place where I have the stuff I need to take care that wound."

I can tell this makes her a bit uncomfortable, but I see resignation, along with a heavy amount of exhaustion, take over.

"Alright. But we have to take my car. It's a company car and I can't really leave it in a bar parking lot."

She shuffles her way to a black Tahoe equipped with red and blue strobes on the grill, and that's when it all fits.

My sister Catherine drives the same exact car. A CSI issued Tahoe. Granted, it could be a coincidence, or she could be some other form of law enforcement, but with the way my sister described one particular coworker makes me think that I have the one and only Sara Sidle in my presence.

Again, could be a coincidence, but I would have to say that Cath's description of "stubborn, lanky, guarded, self-destructive, and supremely frustrating brunette" seems to fit the woman standing in front of me quite well.

This should be interesting. Especially since my sister also happened to confess to me last week in tears that she thinks she is in love with Sara, the very woman that she had tried for so long to force herself to hate.

Oh what a delightful evening this has turned out to be.