Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, etc.

A/N: I know, I know. I need to stop starting new stories and finish/update my old ones. :)

But I needed to write this, because it's been in my head since I started Destiny, you see.

Let me know what you think!

Prologue:

I tried very hard to be scientific about the scene before me—I did. Take a step back, detach emotionally, and observe… like a crime scene.

There were eight children—all Caucasian, except for a single African-American boy, who looked to be the eldest of the group. He was on the swings, with a little girl with light brown hair falling straight and simply to the middle of her back, and dimples as big as Texas. …Strange comparison, but she reminded me of Nick, so I suppose it was unavoidable.

Roughly five feet over, a little girl with dark brown hair in curls brushing just past her shoulders pushed two smaller children on the swing, one girl with strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes and one boy with brown hair, a prominent nose and jaw bone, and soft eyes. The older girl pushed slowly, spoke softly, and giggled gently at the younger children's amusement. She seemed motherly, even so young.

Maybe ten feet on the other side of the initial pair was a tire swing—a girl with the same Texas-sized dimples and light brown hair was perched on the black rubber. Her hair was shorter, her body smaller… she was younger, but I was certain they were sisters. Beside her, a little boy with short, tightly-wound, dark brown curls pushed the tire around and around and, at the last minute, jumped onto it. They spun and spun around, their squeals of laughter and delight filling the air, and I couldn't help but smile.

The last child sat with her back leaning against one of the bars of the swing set, far enough away that she wouldn't be hit by the swingers, but close enough to be a part of the group. Her hair was blonde, but a dirty blonde… not golden or strawberry, but decidedly speckled with darker locks. She seemed almost as small as the little one being pushed, along she was clearly older. She was reading a book, seeming quite content to simply sit in the presence of her friends and enjoy the day.

I took in a breath. There. That was not so alarming. Certainly I still had no idea how I had arrived here, but the scene before me was simple… easy to understand. Typical, even.

I moved forward, onto the playground, and the eldest boy immediately stood up, looking at me warily. He glanced over the other children, as well, as if counting to make sure I hadn't already kidnapped one of them. I smiled softly, understanding his concern, although it was strange in a boy so young. It was good to be afraid of strangers.

I held up my hands as if to show I meant to harm and certainly had no weapons, and kept a safe distance from the children who had now slowly but surely stopped their various activities to look up at me in confusion. I addressed the boy, because he seemed to be the default leader of the group.

"I'm sorry if I scared you kids… I, uh… I'm just lost, is all. I'm not exactly sure how I got here. Can you… tell me where, exactly, I am?"

He lifted his chin defensively. "Las Vegas, Nevada. This is Johnny Appleseed Park." He tilted his head, and I took in a row of apple trees that certainly weren't native. I wondered when the drought concerns had ceased and the city had decided to plant fruit trees in a desert. Surely I'd have heard something about it.

I nod, slowly. "I… shouldn't you kids… be in school?" I glanced down at my watch, as if in sudden realization. It was May at ten thirty in the morning. Certainly schools wouldn't let out for another week, right?

"There's no school in July."

My eyes widened in alarm. July? There was no way… they must be confused…

The smaller Texas-dimpled girl spoke up. "Nicole, doesn't he look like the guy in all the pictures at your house?"

The two dark-haired children and the older boy's eyes all snapped to me with a new kind of concentration, and I felt I knew what living in an aquarium must be like for fish. I took a hesitant step back, but the tall boy was moving towards me slowly, his wide green eyes searching and inescapable.

…How strange. They reminded me of Warrick, when he was perusing a difficult piece of evidence. Come to think of it, it certainly couldn't be common for a black man to have green eyes, could it? I puckered my lips in thought, but it seemed that it mattered less what I was thinking and more what he was thinking.

"How lost are you, sir?"

The question startled me, and I looked at him in confusion. He seemed to sense that I needed more than directions back to the freeway… I sighed. "Pretty lost…"

"I think… I think you need to come home with us. Talk to Mom. She'll know what to do."

I narrowed my eyes. Following a large group of children home certainly didn't seem sensible—any mother would find it strange to find a man bordering on fifty being led home by her children. But then, what else was I going to do? Apparently I didn't even know what month it was…

I nod, slowly. "If you… think that's okay. I don't… I don't want to alarm your mother."

He shook his head, slowly. "I don't think it can be avoided at this point, sir."

I looked at him, waiting for clarification, and received none. So I just nodded, and he turned his back to me, moving closer to the other children and speaking to them, rather than to me. I had to strain to hear him.

"Okay, we're all going back to my house and asking Mom what to do… find someone's hand to hold and let's hurry, okay? Look both ways…"

"We know," chorused the children, clearly used to his directions. They rolled their eyes and he glared playfully while they all found someone to hold hands with and started walking along as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a middle-aged man to follow them home from the park. I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to feel as though I belonged with the group of strange children.

Glancing down, I realized that the shy girl—the one who had been reading rather than playing—was at my side, matching my pace silently, watching the ground in front of her feet. At my glance she looked up and gave me a tiny smile, as uncertain as it was endearing, and I couldn't help but return it brightly, despite my confusion.

It was not a long walk, perhaps a block or so away, and then we were walking up a sloping driveway, a large blue house with a sweeping lawn and a white porch with a porch swing. I drew in a hesitant breath, wondering what I would even say to the woman they were leading me to. How could I explain that one moment I had been slowing to a stop at a red light and the next I was laying on the ground in a park I'd never heard of, though I certainly knew most of Vegas?

At the very least, I could explain my confusion… tell her that her son had suggested I ask her for help, because they were unable… I would try to put her at ease. I could tell her I was in law enforcement… that always seemed to comfort people.

I was led inside, and the pile of small children kicked on sand-filled sandals and rushed down carpeted-lined stairs in a house that, at first glance, appeared to be floored completely in hard wood laminate, with the exception of the stair-runner and several large, plush area rugs. I stood still in the doorway, and the older boy glanced at me and gestured that I should follow him up the stairs, and then preceded me, calling out "Mom?" as he went.

Moving up, I glanced at the pictures lining the staircase. There was one of the black boy and the two dark-curled children. I wondered if the younger children had been adopted or if it were the other way around… The next picture was all eight children at Christmas time… they were all dressed in Santa hats and black and red dress clothes. They didn't look much younger, so it must have been this past December.

The final picture before the stairway ended in an open kitchen and dining room looked like it was much older, and a little faded. I glanced at it and then did a double take—it was a photo I had in my home right now, of the team. We'd taken it several months ago, in a rare moment in which we were all working together and happy, as the case had been resolved easily, with very little harm done.

I was off to the left side, looking sheepish and out of place, but Warrick had slung an arm over my shoulder, bringing me into the frame, making me a part of the larger family. On his other side, Nick's arm was over his shoulder, and the free hand held Sara's gently, and she positively beamed between his soft grasp and the vice-grip of Greg on her other side, who also seemed to be happier than normal, but that might just be the proximity to the beautiful woman. Catherine was on Greg's other side, beautiful as ever and smiling coyly, her expression enigmatic and somehow still knowing.

I loved the picture… but I could not for the life of me fathom why it was here. The tall boy caught my eye, and gestured with his head up to the kitchen, which was empty. I moved into it, in silence, glancing around and catching another curious detail—the space above the cupboards was filled with decorative platters and bowls, plastic leaves wrapped around the thin railing there, and the platter up there looked like the one my mother and father had gotten as a wedding present. We had eaten our holiday turkeys off it every year, growing up.

I heard the back door opening, and turned—the boy was coming back inside, and at my questioning eyes, replied, "She's out in garden, repotting this crazy old plant she's had for, like, ever. She said she'd be right up."

I nod, slowly, and open my mouth to question—what, I don't know. Perhaps who he is—who his mother is—why there is a picture of my team on his wall—but I don't get the chance. The back door swings open again and I look up immediately to see… but no, it couldn't possibly be…

A nearly-fifty year old Sara Sidle dropped her jaw and the potted plant in her slim fingers at the same moment, looking stricken at the sight of me. The resulting crash and breaking of the ceramic pot hardly registered—the chaos in her eyes was deafening.