Damn, I should have taken the stairs. Is it really necessary for this elevator to move at half the speed of my grandfather's walker? Late on my first day. Just what I need. Damn slow-ass elevator. Damn traffic. Damn parking. Damn…damn Miami.
The doors of the elevator opened, the sixth floor, and Benjamin Wallace stepped onto the clean linoleum of the Miami-Dade Criminalistics Lab. It was 8:42. Her appointment with her new boss, Lieutenant Caine, was supposed to be at 8:30. Like a girl from Moosejaw, Saskatchewan is going to anticipate rush hour in Miami.
"Ms. Wallace? Horatio Caine. We spoke on the phone." He was a good-looking guy in his late forties or early fifties, looking smooth and professional in an expensive suit.
"Lieutenant Caine, it's wonderful to finally meet you. I'm so sorry I'm late." And didn't she look it. Her cheeks were flushed, her brow knotted into a sincere look of concern. Otherwise, though, she couldn't have been more attractive. She looked to be about 5'7". Tall for a woman. She wasn't stick-thin, like so many of the girls in Miami, but she was certainly fit--an athlete, no doubt.
"Ms. Wallace, I don't want you to worry about it. Unfortunately, I just got called out on a case but you can make yourself comfortable, I'm sure." He nodded politely and headed suavely to the elevator. So much for the third degree. He hardly seemed to notice that she was twelve minutes late. Oh well, once less thing to worry about. Taking a deep breath, Benjamin Wallace surveyed her surroundings; the lab here was markedly better than any of the labs she had worked in before, aesthetically, at least. Large storm windows revealed a beautiful beach view. Lots of open space in the building, an illusion further perpetuated by the presence of large windows instead of walls in most of the rooms. After clocking in and asking the receptionist which way to go to the lockers, she took a deep breath and prepared for her first day as a Miami-Dade criminalist.
The first thing she noticed upon entering the locker room was not actually a thing, at all. A tall, dark-skinned man stood at a locker towards the front, buttoning a black dress shirt. He smiled when he noticed her, revealing two immaculate rows of perfect white teeth.
"Lost?"
She was so taken aback by the man's very presence in the locker room (didn't they have separate gender changing rooms?) that it took her a moment to respond.
"Oh…uh, no." She laughed carelessly, regained her composure. "I'm actually new here. I guess you didn't hear." She extended her hand towards him, and he moved forward to shake it.
"Oh…I heard we were getting a newb-uh, new…uh…guy." He flushed, inadvertently caught in his assumption that the new employee would be a male. Quite accustomed to this assumption, Benjamin laughed it off casually.
"Don't worry about it. I would assume I was a guy too. Benjamin. It's a family name. When my parents realized I was a girl…it was too late to change the name on all the monogrammed towels and clothes." What she didn't mention was that she had had a twin, a boy, who had died at birth. It was either her or him, whoever came out first. He was to be Benjamin (her father's, grandfather's, and great-grandfather's name) and she was to be Rhiannon. Devastated at the loss of their prospective heir, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace named their daughter in honour of their lost son. And they never let her forget it.
Obviously unaware of the inner turmoil the conversation roused within his colleague, Eric chuckled to himself at her story.
"Well, at least it makes for a good story at parties, right? I'm Eric Delko, by the way. Nice to meet you." And with another heart-warming smile, he shut his locker and headed in the direction of the DNA lab.
Cute guy. Maybe this job won't be a complete waste of my time.
Eric Delko practically skipped to the DNA lab, having just encountered a beautiful new colleague. Not that he needed another relationship with a co-worker. Things hadn't worked out so well with Natalia, and this girl looked a bit young, anyway. And who names their daughter Benjamin, honestly!"I believe I have something you'll like." Maxine Valera always had something of value to share. She never struck out.
"Oh yeah? The MacDonald case?"
"Blood spatter on the victim's shirt--two donors, one the victim's, obviously, and one unknown…male, but a biological relative of Hannah MacDonald."
"Man…these rich families have got to stop killing each other off. Lucky for us, though; Hannah was a stabbing victim; you know the attackers usually cut themselves in the act. Thanks, Valera."
"Just get me something to compare it to, and I'll have more."
"I'm on it."
Heading out of the lab, preoccupied with his thoughts, he almost bumped into Ryan Wolfe, not exactly his favourite of people. Want to piss someone off? Steal their evidence and take credit for it. Really want to piss someone off? Ask out their ex-girlfriend and ask him for money to take her out. That Ryan really was a piece of work.
"Hey, Delko, you seen the new guy? Message board says I'm supposed to bring him in the field with me."
"New, yeah. Guy…not so much." Delko said with a laugh. Boy, was Ryan in for a surprise and a half.
"Huh? His name's Benjamin Wallace. Even said on the board." Ryan was more than a little confused.
Laughing, Delko shrugged. "Alright, well call him to Reception to bring him with you." He started walking away. "Let me know how it goes."
No way the new guy was a girl. Delko was just kidding with him. But, taking his advice, Ryan got his kit and asked the Receptionist to page this Wallace guy so they could get to the scene. After a minute or so, he heard a female voice say behind him, "Hi, I'm Benny Wallace; I believe you paged me?"Ryan turned around to see a young woman with soft brown hair and bright blue eyes speaking to the Receptionist.
"Hi, I'm Ryan Wolfe. I'm uh…taking you to the field today." But his shock was obviously still showing, because she laughed. It poured out of her like champagne on New Years. So natural. So casual.
"Not quite what you were expecting from someone named Benjamin, huh?" Her steely blue eyes pierced into him, but not in the probing, often intimidating way Horatio's did. Her eyes were warm and intriguing. Much like the rest of her.
"I…I guess you caught me. Sorry, I…shall we go?" How do you tell a girl that she got pegged with a guy's name? Not like she didn't know.
They walked out into the Miami sunshine, and straight to Ryan's Hummer, which was parked only meters from the building. Noticing her look of astonishment, Ryan told her that you could reserve a parking space if you asked management of the building.
"I'll take you to do it when we get back, if you want."
Man, was this work force just crawling with cute guys, or what! Sure, Delko was good-looking in a tough, manly way, but something about Ryan tells me that he isn't just interested in a casual night of random, anonymous sex. Ryan wants more out of life.
She rewarded his offer with her cutest smile, showcasing her often remarked-upon dimples and expensively organized teeth.
"So, where are we going?"
"To meet Horatio at a scene. He went earlier to do some questioning but the scene still needs to be processed before we can release it. I'll drive."
They drove in silence for a while, until Ryan started in on the small-talk:"So…you lived in Miami long?" He was obviously tipped off to her immigration by her Canadian accent.
"No…I lived in Moosejaw until I was fifteen. Moved to Boston to get my Bachelor's, and just moved down here about six weeks ago. You?"
"You lived in Boston? I was born there, actually. Came to Miami after University, worked Patrol awhile. You know."
Silence again, this time a little more awkward.
"So…moving out of the country at fifteen…that's rough. Leaving all your friends behind." It would have sounded like a pathetic attempt at conversation if not for the tone of sincerity in his voice. He had been there. He knew all too well what it was like to leave one completely familiar place and find yourself stranded among a group of strangers, embittered towards your very existence because you filled the painful gap of one of their own.
Benny was silent a moment after Ryan spoke. He cursed himself for throwing the comment out there at all. He was just so desperate for a fellow newbie to talk to…someone to understand what it's like to be "The New Guy".
Yes, Benny was silent for a moment, and yes, she did pick up on Ryan's melancholy tone, but that was by no means the cause of her silence. She was trying to figure out how to tell him, without seeming like some sort of freak, why exactly she moved to Boston the month after her fifteenth birthday.
"Actually, funny story about that. I kinda graduated early, and…just headed out to University from there." She tried to sound casual, nonchalant, as if it were no big deal to graduate high school at fourteen years old.
But if Ryan was repelled by her academia, he surely didn't show it. He shrugged. "Good for you. Wish I could have made it out of high school a little earlier." He flashed her the cutest smile she had seen since…she couldn't remember when. "Where'd you go in Boston, anyway?"
This was the moment of truth: if Ryan was going to get freaked out by her, this would be it. She knew where that question went.
"Harvard."
Ryan sighed. "I wish I could've joined you. Got the acceptance letter and everything. But, of course, the old bank account didn't support my ambition. But, hey, UCLA is great, right?" He laughed.
Just because she didn't want him to think she was some rich girl from Noplace, Canada, she added cautiously, "Yeah, I'm really lucky to have gotten the scholarship." Then, "I wish you could've joined me, too."
Another moment of silence, this time without the awkwardness, and with a new compassion between the two.
"So how old are you, anyway? You move to Boston at fifteen, do four years, come here…tell me you're legal voting age." He shot her a teasing glance, one she would pay anything to have caught on camera, to keep like a giddy school girl under her pillow each night.
"I will be…next month. I think I'm going to hit the town to celebrate my new drinking privileges." She hadn't had such a lengthy conversation with anyone in weeks. She drank up every word they spoke to each other, loving the human interaction she didn't even know she had been missing so direly.
"Well, if you don't meet anyone to show you some good clubs and bars…let me know. I'll show you the ropes."
Did he just offer to take me out!
Alarms were going off in her head like crazy. The good kind. If there was one thing she had learned, it was that, smart as she was, pretty as she was, guys would rather take out some airhead for a cheap thrill than a girl who gave a seminar on gunshot residue at the age of sixteen. And here was the cutest guy she had ever seen (did she mention that he got cuter by the minute?) offering to take her out for a night on the town in Miami. But before she could produce a witty and insightful response, Ryan pulled up into the gravel driveway of a sprawling estate, and turned off the car. She barely had time to say, "I'd love it if you showed me the ropes" when he hopped out and opened up the trunk to grab his kit and tools.
They spent the remainder of the afternoon processing the house, and so did not have much time to talk, other than the occasional moment of professional insight into the case, with no mention of his offer for her upcoming birthday.
Not that I expect him to say anything. I've been burned so many times, the last thing I expect is for a guy to be compassionate, consistent, or even just interested in me. I've dated, sure…but one thing I know for sure is that there is one thing guys want from girls. And it isn't intellectual conversation and emotional stability. They make it seem like it was a crime to save it for marriage. I had only expected them to be worse in Miami, and yet, there's this Ryan…
She rolled over in bed, slid her hands under the coolness of her pillow, and gazed at the alarm clock on her dresser: 2:45. She had to wake up in less than five hours. But she couldn't manage to sleep.She had been working at CSI for just over two weeks, and in that time, she and Ryan had grown--fortunately--quite close. The past two Fridays, they had gone out for drinks…sort of. Root beer for her. Child that she was.
Cursing her youth, she rolled over onto her back. Would Ryan ever take her seriously when she couldn't even legally buy drinks? Sure, he was no geriatric himself--he was only twenty-six--but to some people, being twenty is being a nervous, pimply-faced adolescent.
Not that anyone at work treated her with disrespect. She supposed that Ryan and Horatio just neglected to mention her age to their co-workers, because, though they obviously noticed that she was by far the youngest member of the team, no one made a point of bringing it up. They actually acted quite warmly to her.
Ryan was another story, entirely. Though people were polite and civil towards him, there seemed to be a great deal of bitterness in the air when Ryan entered. Rumour had it that he replaced a very popular CSI who had been killed in the line of duty, and no one ever forgave him for it. Poor guy. Never even met this Speedle guy, and he was being haunted by him every day at work. People were nice enough to him, but there was a definite feeling of tension towards him, and, try as hard as he might to pretend he didn't notice, he wasn't fooling Benny. Last Friday, over drinks, he had confided in her that he had actually considered a career change--or at least a change in venue--because of the lack of camaraderie at the workplace.
"That was before you came, though." He had said sheepishly, bowing his head shyly, a flush creeping up his soft cheeks.
Does that mean he's interested!
Benny dared not get her hopes up. The possibility that he wasn't really interested in her--could never be interested in a juvenile brainer like her--was just too great. The risk of rejection, too high.
For now, all she could do was sleep. And wait for Thursday. Her birthday. Of course, she had made no friends outside of the lab since coming to Miami, and she wondered desperately if Ryan's offer from her first day was still valid.
Ryan Wolfe rolled over in bed, his legs tangled in his sheets. Getting out of bed, but not turning on the light for fear that it would wake him up for the rest of the night, he re-made his bed for the second time in four hours.Women + OCD no rest for the weary.
All night, he had been preoccupied with thoughts of the new girl. Benjamin. Benny, as she told him to call her. He laughed to think back on her first day, when he had actually expected her to be a man. A man, she was most definitely not. Those long, strong legs. Those piercing blue eyes. That full yet fit figure. Those soft, delicate golden-brown curls, falling just past her shoulders. The tattoo on her beautifully tanned lower back. He grinned at the memory of the day he first saw it.
She had been bending down to get some vinyl polysiloxane, and, being a male, his eyes followed her downward, and noticed a thin strip of bare skin, between her belt and the bottom of her shirt. Jokingly, he had mentioned it to her.
"Quite the tat you got there"
She looked up, confused. "Pardon?"
"Lower back. Your tattoo. It's nice."
She blushed, obviously uncomfortable in her position of being a police officer, an authority figure, yet disfigured by this permanent ink.
"I got it when I moved to Boston. Present from my Dad."
"What does it say?" The tattoo, unlike most, was not an image, but five words, scrawled neatly in Edwardian Script:
Pride goeth before a fall
"It's from the Bible," she explained, pulling up her shirt in back and moving closer so that he could see it. She turned her head to speak to him as she did so, flipping those gorgeous curls. God, she looked good. With her body less than a foot from him, that tattoo suspended in the playground of her dimpled lower back, it had taken all of his self-control not to place a gentle, loving hand on her hip as he inspected the penmanship.
I guess it's a good thing Calleigh came in then. Who knows what kind of rejection I had in store.
Getting into his freshly-made bed and closing his eyes in a welcome invitation of sleep, he thought about Benny's upcoming birthday.
Did she think I was kidding when I offered? Does she think I'm just some loser from the lab who makes her get drinks with him on Fridays?
He restlessly tossed and turned, finally ending up on his stomach, with his hands absorbing the fresh coolness of the sheets under his pillow.
She's been here two months. Probably made tons of friends, if not a boyfriend. Like she would ever want to spend her twenty-first birthday bar-hopping with some geek from the lab.
His last waking thought before sleep finally claimed him in her name:
I'll ask her about Thursday first thing tomorrow. If Delko doesn't first. Why I ever told him about her birthday is a mystery to me.
Benjamin Rhiannon Wallace overslept the morning of her 21st birthday, and, though she let out an impressive string of expletives upon waking, she could hardly say she was surprised. The previous night, her best friend, Scott Matthews, had come over with an expensive bottle of chardonnay, for them to enjoy in her honour. Benny had never been much of a drinker, and so, by the time they had split the bottle (almost evenly), both she and Scott were sufficiently plastered. She let him bunk on her couch, telling him that if he didn't fold the blankets in the morning, there'd be hell to pay. And so she found herself being rudely awakened, an hour late, by her pager, which was never more than a few feet from her reach. At first, she couldn't understand why Horatio would be paging her; it was much too early to be getting up for work, right? But upon more closely examining her alarm clock, it was she who was alarmed, to see that it was, in fact, 9:30 in the am."Scott! How could you let me sleep in so late!" She screamed, pulling on a blouse and dress pants as she ran frantically through her apartment in desperate search of a pair of matching shoes.
"Relax, muffin; it's your birthday!" Damn that Scott, how can he always be so laid back about everything! Maybe it's a gay thing. Maybe it's a late- twenties thing. Damn him. Damn my alarm clock. Damn Miami. Damn this apartment--
"Where are my green pumps!" She practically shrieked, pulling apart her closet in search of her shoes. Tears of frustration and anger were running down her cheeks now; hardly the best way to start a birthday. Finally finding her shoes, she pecked Scott on the cheek and told him she'd be home by seven or so, for yet another special birthday dinner. She had met Scott in University, and wasn't it fortunate; she could hardly make toast, let alone cook for herself every night. Since then, they had grown especially close, with sentimental birthday dinners for them both every year, no matter how far apart they might be living.
"Alright, love, have a wonderful birthday! Love you!"
"Love you!" Damn, I look like hell. Consuming half a bottle of wine with an alcoholic volume of 14 on an empty stomach on a weeknight, not such a good idea. I wonder if I can put some makeup on in the car. Or at work. If I don't get fired first.
Ryan Wolfe couldn't remember the last time he had been so nervous. It was her birthday, and she wasn't even at work.Did she take the day off? Maybe normal people do that. Maybe she had a late night with that guy…
Wanting to ask her out for drinks on the night of her birthday, Ryan had driven past Benny's place Wednesday night, having dropped her off there the two previous times they had gone out. As he had past her house, he saw her in the passionate embrace of some guy. A men's overnight bag lay at their feet. The guy was staying the night.
Her boyfriend?
And now, it was almost ten in the morning and she wasn't even at work. Ryan had been late for work once before; her name was Erica Sykes. He knew the implications of being late for work.
Ryan Wolfe couldn't remember the last time he had been so nervous. After failing to speak to Benny at her house, he had driven around for over an hour, trying to figure things out. He had then gone home and spent another sleepless night, tossing and turning in bed as he thought of Benny and that guy…embracing in her driveway…her feet in the air as she clung to his neck, her waist tightly clenched in the safety of his arms. After a few hours, Ryan knew he was just kidding himself, and went to the florist across town--the nice Jewish guy with the cute dog, not the new Hungarian one--to spend over an hour picking out the perfect birthday bouquet. It now sat in the back of his Hummer, a sentimental waste of $38.00. How could he possibly give her flowers after having seen her with that guy? What had he been thinking at seven this morning?
"Ryan! HaveyouseenHoratio? I'mreallysorryI'mlateImusthaveoversleptmyalarmand--" Benny was standing at the door of the Questioned Documents lab, breathless and flustered, but all the more beautiful with her cheeks flushed and curls out of place.
"Benny! Deep breath…" Ryan lead her in a single hyperventilation and told her to begin again.
"OK. I'm really sorry I'm late; I must have overslept my alarm and traffic was really bad on the thruway…" Her voice drifted off as her eyes welled up with tears. Poor kid. No one likes to be late. Ryan got up and, without thinking, wrapped his arms around her. He pushed a stray curl out of her face and held her there for a moment before speaking. Surprisingly, her arms were wound just as tightly around him.
"Don't worry about it, Ben. Everyone is late once in a while. It's fine. Besides--" He held her out from him, as if scrutinizing her for the least sign of increased age "It's your birthday." He smiled at her, and when she smiled back, moist cheeks and all, he could have honestly melted. She was such a sweet girl. Getting all upset over an hour and a half of tardiness. She should hear some stories about Delko!
"Thanks, Ryan. You're…" Could she say 'a sweetie'? Was that crossing the line? Was he just being a friend? "The greatest." That's safer. Leave it to him to interpret it. Leave it to me to worry about my job.
If Ryan was to openly interpret her response, he didn't have time, because at that point, they were interrupted by an attractive Southern belle, Calleigh Duquesne."Hey, Ryan, do you have the results on the vic's suic-" She looked up from the file folder to see her co-workers in an embrace, gazing at each other. "Sorry, I'll uh…come back."
"No, no, it's fine, I was just…saying happy 2-1 to Ben…Benny…Ms. Wallace." Ryan's voice cracked on the last syllable.
Great, now she'll think I'm not interested, AND not through puberty.
"Oh! Well happy birthday, Ben! I didn't realize you were so young!" Calleigh smiled kindly, playing naïve at the scene she had walked in on. Neither Ryan nor Benjamin believed for a second that their ambitious, intelligent colleague was anything but on the ball, but it made the moment sufficiently less awkward. "Now, Ryan, did you process the suicide note? I had a feeling it wasn't legit, but I can't bring in the boyfriend until I have some evidence behind me." Back to business. As Ryan and Calleigh discussed the case, Benny excused herself and walked down the corridor, her sought-after shoes clicking on the linoleum floor. Upon seeing Horatio at the Reception desk, she took a deep breath and went forward. If she was going to get fired, might as well get it over with so she could clean out her locker and spend some time with Scott before he had to go.
"Lieutenant Caine. I'm so sorry I'm late. My alarm--I--I'm so sorry--I'm not usually late I just--I'm so sorry." Why do I always manage to sound like some kid late for her part-time job at the Wal-Mart café?
Horatio Caine smiled in that compassionate way he had, letting Benny know that it was all OK.
"I…don't want you to worry about, alright? I believe Valera has some results for you. Then you can go into the field with Eric." He smiled at her dismissively, letting her know that she was off the hook. She thanked him graciously, forever a pimply-faced Wal-Mart employee, and practically skipped down the hallway.
Maybe this birthday won't suck horribly, after all.
"Oh, and Ms. Wallace?"
Spoke too soon. Here it comes. My ass is grass.
"Happy birthday."
I think I'm in love with this day.
"Delko!" Ryan Wolfe. What does he want this time? My little black book? My tips on picking up women? The nerve of some guys."What's up, Wolfe?" Eric Delko's tone was no more inviting than it absolutely needed to be.
"You're in the field with Wallace today, right?"
"Yeah…" Where is this going?
"Do you think I could…like…take the case for today?" He moved closer, in the universal sign of secrecy, as he bowed his head and furrowed his brow, trying to play the part of a serious man having a serious man-to-man with another serious man.
Delko frowned. What is this about? "I guess. I have some old paper work I could catch up on. Any reason why?"
Ryan sighed. How to explain to Delko, who was obviously also interested in Benny, that he wanted to spend some time with her, get a feel for where their relationship was going? "Well you know it's Ben's birthday…"
Eric waited. He had somewhat looked forward to spending some time with his beautiful colleague, and, though he wasn't ecstatic about sacrificing that time, it also meant Wolfe would be out of the Lab for the afternoon, giving him some time with Natalia, see if they couldn't sort things out.
When Ryan didn't finish his sentence, obviously expecting Eric to draw whatever conclusions he might, Delko spoke up.
"You planning something special in the field for her birthday?" He was half-joking, of course. But only half. Ryan had almost lost his job for a woman once. Who knows how much of a romantic he was.
"Well, you know, we're kinda friends and I just thought it'd be nice to hang out a bit today. Nothing really." That's right, play down the bouquet of flowers and the desperate desire to find out the deal with that guy from her driveway. Play it right the hell down.
Ryan's casual tone and careless air did nothing but amuse his Cuban co-worker. But what the hell, why not humour him? I'm not terribly interested in her anyway. "Sure, Wolfe." He practically slammed the file folder containing the details of the case into Ryan's chest. "But if anything goes wrong, it's on you."
"Thanks, man, I owe you one!" Ryan called out as he practically skipped down the hallway.
Wolfe never gets any less weird.