A/N: This one was written for a challenge issued by the FanFiction Critique Group over at TalkCSI. The elements were:

1. Word limit: 4000 maximum

2: Rating PG-13 or lower

3. Incorporate your favorite song even if the character(s) wouldn't listen to it.

4. The main character must be your favorite male character (any, spouse, friend, show character, child, ect.). You may involve other character(s) and you must incorporate an element of friendship in it.

5. Include the partial-line, "It was (It is (depending on tense)) stranger than fiction," at some point in the piece.

For the record, I didn't use my favorite song (because I don't have just one favorite), but I used one that has sentimental value to me. "Where Everybody Knows Your Name" (aka the theme song from the TV show Cheers) was my senior class song when I was in high school. Don't ask me why, I didn't vote for it--but it makes an interesting story :P I didn't use my favorite male character, either, and for the same reason. How could I possibly choose?! But Ryan's been in my head lately, so he was the lucky winner.

At any rate, challenge or no challenge, I hope you enjoy...leave me a review and let me know!

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

The apartment was quiet when Ryan blinked his eyes open, squinting against the sunlight that peaked in through the partially closed mini blinds on the bedroom window. This is different, he thought drowsily. I'm not used to waking up after sunrise.

Deciding there was no point in postponing the inevitable, he threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, moving through his usual morning routine at an easy pace. He showered and got dressed, electing not to style his hair with anything more than a comb. Pulling on a pair of blue jeans and his favorite t-shirt, he wandered into the kitchen in search of the box of Pop Tarts he knew was still sitting in one of the cupboards. Once they were located and properly toasted, Ryan parked himself at the kitchen table, Pop Tart in his right hand, pen in his left, and made his list of errands to run on his day off.

"Bank…post office…dry cleaner…grocery store," he mumbled as he wrote. "And this time I'm going to resist the urge to buy frozen dinners," he vowed with an emphatic nod. "Of course, if I do that, there's a good chance I'll become very familiar to the wait staff at the restaurant down the street, but it's a risk I'm willing to take."

He scribbled a few more notes to himself, jotting down things he thought he should purchase at the supermarket while munching his breakfast, before throwing on a pair of old tennis shoes and bouncing out the door.

Stopping behind a line of cars at a red light later in the afternoon, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and sighed. Out of all the people he had interacted with that day, not one of them had called him "Ryan". He was "Mr. Wolfe" at the bank—after the teller called up his account information—and "sir" at the post office and dry cleaner. He didn't even get a real live human being when he checked out at the grocery store, just an automated machine that told him when to swipe his frozen dinners across the scanner. No one affectionately teased him about his OCD or his "movie star jackets". No one asked about his family, his niece, his crazy Uncle Ron. No one smiled at him out of more than mere politeness. No one even gave him a second thought when he was gone.

"What a lousy day," he said aloud. "I went all over the place and didn't see a single person I knew."

And that's when he realized he was lonely. Sure it was nice to have a day off: to wake up to sunlight instead of moonlight, to be able to relax and take his time getting ready, to be able to plan his day and not have dispatch dictate it to him. But the lab was where his closest friends were, the people that knew him best. And that's where he wanted to be.

Twenty minutes later he was stepping off the elevator at the Crime Lab and striding past the reception desk where an officer was working.

"Hey Ryan," she called cheerily.

The use of his name made him smile. "Hey Paula. How are you today?"

"So far so good," she replied.

He nodded in response and kept walking, running into Calleigh and Eric further down the hallway, greeting them with a lighthearted grin. "Whoa, where are you two off to?"

"Opa-Locka," Calleigh told him.

"Guy jumped off his third floor balcony," Eric added.

Ryan drew his eyebrows together. "Why did he do that?"

"Because he had tied a rope to the balcony above him and was trying to play Tarzan," Calleigh told him with a straight face.

"Really? No way."

"Yep," she confirmed. "Someone might have cut the rope, though, so we're going out for a look-see."

Eric chuckled. "The stuff we see on the job…"

"…it's stranger than fiction sometimes," Calleigh finished with a little laugh. "What are you doing here? I thought today was your day off."

"It is," he confirmed, his lips pulling into another smile. "I just thought I'd catch up on some paperwork while I have the chance."

Eric raised an eyebrow at his colleague. "Or did you just miss me that much?" he quipped.

"Yeah, that's it," Ryan replied with a smirk and a tilt of his head, "It's you and your charming personality, not the stack of case files that's taller than me."

"Well good luck," Calleigh nodded, precluding Eric from retorting with what she knew would be another joke. "We've got to get going."

They said their good-byes and Ryan continued to move around the lab, gathering his files and writing utensils, scouting out a good location to set up shop. He passed a number of other CSIs and lab techs, exchanging smiles and familiar pleasantries with them until he found an empty conference room to set up shop. Spreading out his materials on the table, he chose a chair with his back to the window—I'm not interested in nature today, anyway—and sat down to work.

Halfway through his stack Natalia appeared in the doorway. "Hey, Ry…I didn't know you were here."

Glancing up from the table, he flashed her a grin. "Well, you know how it is."

"There's always paperwork," she said with a smile, entering the room and taking a seat opposite him.

"Yeah."

There was something in his voice other than simple agreement. "Everything okay?" she asked quietly, placing the file folder she was carrying on the table and leaning forward on her forearms.

He started to brush her off, but then thought better of it. If anyone understands, it's Natalia. "Everything's fine," he assured her. Then, leaning forward himself, he added softly, "It's just…sometimes, you want to go where everybody knows your name, y'know?"

"Yeah," she said, the sincerity in his hazel eyes echoed in the word, coupled with the smallest hint of teasing. "And they're always glad you came."

He pressed his lips together in an effort to smother another grin, but failed. "You want to be where you can see—"

"—our troubles are all the same," she giggled.

They paused a moment, locking eyes, knowing what was coming next. In unison, thought not in the same key, they sang the last line though light laughter. "You want to be where everybody knows your name!"

It was silly, and some of the techs closest to the conference room were staring, but the two most recently re-accepted CSIs didn't care. They both knew what is was like to be on the outside looking in, and how much better it was when you were back in again.

Horatio picked that instant to poke his head through the open door. "Miss Boa Vista…do you have the results on the Bradley swab yet?"

"Right here," she told him, rising to her feet and handing him the folder she'd brought in.

"Good." The lieutenant glanced over its contents before refocusing on Natalia. "It's a match to the sample you collected at the scene."

"Yep," she agreed. "Matt Bradley is our killer."

"Then let's pick him up and allow Mr. Wolfe to get back to work," he said smoothly.

"Thanks H," Ryan smirked. "She was distracting me, and here I'm wading through all this paperwork on my day off, trying to be productive…"

Natalia laughed as she headed out the door, disappearing around a corner with a merry wave through the glass.

Once she was gone, Horatio smiled a small but appreciative smile at his subordinate as he turned to follow. "Good to see you, Ryan."

The younger CSI watched his boss depart, gazing out the inner window for a few minutes more after he was no longer in view. Where everybody knows my name. And they're always glad I came. So maybe it's just a song, but it fits. The Crime Lab is my "Cheers".

Picking up his pen and resuming his work, he smiled contentedly and began humming.