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The loud buzzing was like a chainsaw hacking away at his skull. He reached over and groggily looked at the message: "Body found in Central Park. Come ASAP. Mac." Putting the phone down, he glanced at the clock. 3:45 am. This was one of the worst parts of the job, and one of the reasons why he preferred being a lab tech than an actual cop. These calls came less often than they did for the other CSIs.

Adam hauled himself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Splashing cold water against his face to wake himself up, he gazed down at his hand. The burn scars were still clear, a painful reminder of that fateful day. "Boy, did I ever screw up," He thought. Stella had told him it wasn't his fault, and he believed her. But that wasn't why he still felt like a failure. He reached down and pulled up the leg of his boxer shorts. About three inches above his left knee, six marks identical to the ones on his hand were visible; another reminder. His face darkened as he flashed back to his childhood. "Thanks a lot Dad. You really knew how to make a lasting impression on a kid," he thought bitterly as he walked out of the room to get dressed.

Cherry red and blue lights flashed behind him as he stepped under the crime scene tape. Jo and Mac were crouched over the body of a young blond woman. Danny and Flack stood nearby, watching. A few feet away from the body, Lindsey stood by a tree, looking for clues on the ground. Everything looked normal, but inside, he felt like throwing up. Normally he was annoyed that everyone ignored him, but now it was more of a relief. At least nobody would talk to him.

Suddenly, Jo noticed he was there. "Crap," he thought. Busted. She came over to him, a concerned look on her face.

"Adam, what's wrong?'' she asked. Adam stared at the ground, not wanting to look at her. He hated when Jo asked him questions, mostly because she was so damn good at it. And it always ended with him feeling like a complete idiot. Slowly he shook his head.

"N-nothing. I'm fine." He silently cursed himself. Why did he have to stammer so much? It made the whole concept of hiding his feelings rather pointless if he tripped over every word. Luckily, Jo didn't pursue the matter further, not out of respect for his privacy, but because Flack had interrupted with the woman's wallet.

"Vic's name is Camille Demarche, an exchange student from France. Twenty-three years old, went to NYU to study architecture. Lived on campus, she was last seen at a bar with some friends on Friday night. Her friends said she left early, around 8:30, and hadn't been heard from since."

Adam was silent, lost in his thoughts, so naturally Flack hardly looked at him. As the crew loaded the body into the van, Adam wandered away from the scene. Too many people made him uncomfortable, and there were a lot of people here. The air felt much better away from all the chaos. Suddenly, Mac came up behind him and touched his shoulder, causing him to jump a mile in the air. "Come on Adam, let's get to the lab. The sooner we find Camille's killer, the better." And with that, he led Adam back into the crowd.

Back at the crime lab, Adam sat in his desk chair, thinking. This was his spot, his paradise. Suddenly the phone rang, jerking him back to reality. "Who's calling at 4:30 in the morning?" He wondered as he picked up. "Adam Ross," he answered.

"Adam? It's your dad. Is that really you?" Adam's blood froze. He slammed the phone down and tried to slow his heart. The phone rang again. He picked up without thinking, immediately wishing he hadn't.

"Adam?" his father asked, "I think we may have bad connec—"

"What do you want?" Adam interrupted, breathless. He hadn't spoken to his dad in almost ten years. What on Earth was going on?

"Adam, you're never going to believe where I am," His dad said, somewhat excitedly, and without waiting for an answer, continued, "New York!" Adam's heart pounded and he hung up again. He sat back hard in his chair, his mind racing. This was very, very bad.

Later that day, Adam decided to do some research on evidence he had found at the scene, so he went to the New York Public Library. It was quiet there, and since Danny had been on his case all day, he could use quiet more than anything. But as he left the office building, he heard his name called. Slowly, he turned around and saw his father hurrying toward him. Frozen to the spot, he stood helpless as his dad threw his arms around him, as if they were old friends.

"Adam! It's you! It really is. Look how grown up you are son." His dad said. Adam's skin crawled at his happy-to-see-you attitude. He tried to get away, but his dad only held him tighter. "Come on son, let's go get a drink and catch up," he said as he dragged Adam to a silver car waiting at the curb.

As they drove along, Adam stared out the window. How had this happened? One minute he was having a normal day, the next his worst nightmare had turned up. If this was karma what evil deed could he possibly have done to deserve such a curse? The whole time he was thinking these thoughts his dad was going on and on about how he never called, how he was so lonely without his son there, what had he done to his hand, when finally Adam said "What the hell do you want Dad?"

His dad jerked the car over to the curb and grabbed Adam toward him. "What did you just say to me?" he growled. Adam didn't answer, staring defiantly… at the floor. Suddenly, his father raised his hand and slapped him across the face. "You will speak to me with respect kid, or you're gonna get a lot worse than that!" he screamed. Adam winced but didn't answer. His father raised his hand again, but hesitated. Lowering his hand, he glared at his son, then sat back and glared some more. Adam took the moment of distraction as an opportunity to unbuckle his seat belt quietly. His father looked out the window at a sports car passing, and Adam took the opportunity to bolt out of the car.

Then he ran. He ran and he didn't stop. He ran all the way back to his apartment, the only safe place he could think of.