A/N: Here's the new CSI Fic! This is going to be a sort-of spin off from my first story, "Falling Into You", which was a Ryan Wolfe fic. Check it out and review if you have some time. I feel like this one starts out a little rough, but I get worried about new fics whenever I post them, so it may be me over-criticizing myself. Anyway, I'll stop rambling. Enjoy!
"Excuse me, ma'am, but this is a crime scene. See the yellow tape and the CSI jackets all over the place?"
Tim Speedle tried not to let his frustration show through too much at the petite brunette who was walking down the sidewalk -- on the wrong side of the yellow tape. She turned to him, put her hands on her hips, and gave him a look that meant he was in for it. He figured that he could hold her back if it came to that; she couldn't have been more than one-ten, and her stature stood unbreaking, yet small. She pulled the ponytail holder off of her wrist and tied her long hair back, as if getting ready for some action.
"It's a sidewalk," she answer indignantly.
"Wrong. It was a sidewalk. Unfortunately, somebody decided to kill that guy over there, and since there are bloody footprints on the sidewalk a few feet from right where you stand, it has been transformed into a crime scene."
"Power trip much?"
"Excuse me?" Speed was a smart man, and he was used to dealing with a lot of people who were more than a couple steps below his intelligence and comprehension level; one subject he wasn't as learned in was how to deal with people who had an attitude.
"Look guy, there's a lot nicer way to get people to do what you want them to do without being sarcastic or rude."
"Here's the thing. That guy has a family who wants answers as to why he is now laying dead, out in the open. I'm trying to get them those answers. Unless, of course, you want me to let them know you're the one who impeded our crime scene and delayed us in finding the murderer."
"Impeded? You think you can get past me with those big words? Nice try."
Speed sighed. "We could sit here and carry this swearing match out for the rest of the day, but I'm done. Quite frankly, I'm not used to, nor am I fond of the idea of having someone openly argue with me anywhere, least of all on my crime scene."
"Yes , yes, it's a crime scene. Pretty sure you've established this."
"Obviously you and I are not each other's favorite people. Yay for us. Can you just move on, please?"
"Oh, I'll move on," she taunted. She set off in the same direction she had been going down the sidewalk, and Speed stopped her just two steps from the bloody footprints.
"Stop. Stop right there. If you go one step further, I swear to all that is crime in Miami, I will arrest you for obstruction of justice."
"You wouldn't."
"I will drive you to the jail myself."
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then decided to push her chances. She took one step towards the imprints, and was just about to step over them so as not to interfere with any of the print when two strong arms came from behind her, somehow flipped her in the process of picking her up, and threw her over a shoulder.
"You get to wait in the car now, honey," Speed informed her, in a sugary, sarcastic tone.
"Put me down, you jerk! You can't do this! I'm filing a complaint! Don't you have some kind of supervisor out here?" She kicked and screamed for all she was worth until he dropped her down on the passenger seat of the Hummer.
"Stay here," he ordered, somewhat out of breath. "I'll be back when I'm done processing my --"
"Your crime scene, I got it," she snapped. Speed slammed the door of the Hummer, causing his jail-bound suspect to jump a little.
"People just don't listen," he muttered to himself, treading back under the yellow tape. Eric and Horatio both gave him looks of question, but he ignored them and continued his search for trace and anything else that could be sent back to the lab.
That is how Tim Speedle met Lindy Sullivan, the first girl to ever really get under his skin -- in more ways than one.
-----
Three days later, Tim answered a call from the front desk of the crime lab. He looked around and didn't see anyone he knew, so he asked the receptionist.
"Hey, you said I had someone waiting out here?"
"Right there." The receptionist pointing to a bench Tim had just glanced over, and he mentally groaned when he saw the petite brunette tapping her foot, arms crossed over her chest. Slowly, he approached her.
"Miss Sullivan. I honestly cannot express how I feel about seeing you again."
Lindy glared at him. "I lost my job because of you."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Thanks for dropping by, I'll be on my way." He turned to go, but she caught his arm.
"I need you to talk to my boss, tell him that I was here, all day. He doesn't believe me."
"What do I look like, your father? I don't write notes. He wants to know, he can contact us himself."
"Yeah, right. You try telling that to someone who owns a nightclub. Waitresses get paid crap for a crap job, not to mention they're about a dime a dozen."
"If it was such a crap job, then why do you need it?" Tim asked condescendingly. He watched her eyes light up with anger and for the first time realized the royal blue of her iris was outlined in a light shade of green.
"I'm trying to go back to school, not that it's any of your business. Like you said the other day, we're not each other's favorite people, yay for us. You really think that I would come to you with this if I had any other choice?"
"You're breaking my heart," Tim smirked, then walked away. Lindy clenched her teeth, but left, knowing the trip had been in vain. She picked her keys up off the bench and stormed out of the lab.
"That looked like fun," Eric commented, joining him in a processing room. Tim shook his head.
"Nightlife in Miami is apparently good money."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, she, uh, lost her job because she was here the other day, and wants me to tell her boss it's the truth because he doesn't believe her. She got off with no charges on her record, so she's gotten all the favors she's going to get out of this lab."
"She's cute."
Tim gave him The Look. "Can we solve a murder here? Please?"
-----
"We're going to go dance," Eric informed Tim and pointed to a blonde girl just a few feet away. Tim nodded and took another sip of his beer. He switched chairs at the table so he could have full view of the dance floor, possibly choose a lady for the night. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one of the girls who worked the bar coming his direction. Fortunately, for the bar they were at, he could either ask her for a dance or a beer. The "waitresses" here were hired to not only serve the patrons, but also keep them entertained. It was a Coyote Ugly done dance club style. Making a quick decision, he opted for the beer instead of the dance.
"Excuse me, miss," he yelled over the music. The waitress turned with a huge smile on her face, although it faded the second she saw him.
"You," Lindy sneered.
"I see you found another job," Tim offered.
"No thanks to you. What did you want? If you think you're getting a dance, you're crazy."
"I'll just have another beer." Lindy looked at the bottle in his hand to note what beer he was drinking and returned with a new one just a couple of minutes later. She slammed it on the table, and took his money.
"Thanks," he mumbled.
"At least you're the last customer for the night. Have a nice life, officer."
"Oh, you too." Speed watched her balk and turn back to him; he never would have guessed that she could drag him anywhere until she took his hand and took him to the dance floor with significant force.
"Dance with me," she ordered him. He was about to protest, but hadn't even gotten a word out before she turned her back to him and leaned against his chest, dancing quite provocatively. Through the grinds and turns that she performed, he felt something stirring in him. He wasn't a big dancer, so he let her do most of the work, still wondering what was going on, exactly. She spun around to face him, glanced over his shoulder, and must've seen something she didn't want to see. Just as quickly as she'd had him on the floor, she was gone. His eyes followed her to the bar where she handed another girl some money, said something urgent, and then immediately made her way out of the club. Tim spun around and watched two burly men lock their gaze on Lindy and make a beeline for her route out of the bar.
Lindy looked behind her before she exited the club and saw the two men had fixed their sights on her. Randy and Bill were two regulars who were toeing the line on harassment just since the last week she had worked the bar. The previous night they had informed her she would find trouble if they caught her with anyone else; just the tone they took scared her. When she'd spotted them first walk into the club, she grabbed Tim, hoping for some kind of deterrence. Randy and Bill continued closing in on her though, and that's when she left Tim and the bar. Monica, her boss, had been understanding when she handed over the tips she had made that night and told Monica why she was leaving in such a hurry. She headed out onto the sidewalk and walked north of the club. A warm Miami breeze made its way through her hair and sent chills down her spine. She hugged herself out of paranoia, and continually looked over her shoulder. She hadn't made it very far at all when she heard the two men yelling her name from behind. The heels Lindy was wearing had to come off, and she figured she could use them to protect herself if necessary. Her mind was so caught up in fear that she didn't hear them running up behind her, and was taken by surprise when they pulled her into a nearby alley.
"Lindy, we told you what would happen if we saw you with anyone else," Randy growled, backhanding her.
"I have to talk to other guys to make a living," she defended. Tears stung her eyes, but she tried not to let them fall.
"You could've made plenty of money off of us, sweetheart," Bill replied. He pushed her against the brick wall of a building, but she was standing sideways, so she hit cheek first. The brick was ragged, and she felt the pain as a sharp corner gashed along her cheekbone. He grabbed her arms and pushed her back against the wall. Lindy had no idea what was next, but knew she wasn't going to like it.
"Hey." A stern voice made all three of them look over to see who had found the scene in progress. Lindy felt relief wash over her when she recognized Tim, despite the fact that the feeling was followed by a wave of displeasure due to their previous encounters.
"Who are you, buddy?" Randy asked.
"Tim Speedle, Miami-Dade CSI. Both of you need to walk away, with your hands up. You're under arrest."
"You're going to arrest us?" Bill laughed and released his hold of Lindy. "You and who else."
"Eric Delko. How are you, gentlemen?" Eric showed up next to his best friend, wielding his badge. "Cops are right down the street, they're on the way to come get you."
Five minutes later, the arrest was done. Lindy stood, embarrassed and throbbing from the pain in her face, waiting where Tim had told her to. She thought he would make her give a statement or something; had she known the squabble she was in for, she never would have stuck around.
"You need to get to a hospital for that cut," Tim told her, no sarcasm or meanness at all in the statement.
"I'll just go home and clean it up."
"Neosporin isn't going to fix that cut."
Lindy rolled her eyes. "I appreciate what you just did, but I don't need you to save me anymore. I'm going home."
Tim stopper her with an arm across her stomach as she tried to walk past. "That cut is bad. You're going to end up with a nasty scar if you don't get it taken care of."
"I don't have insurance, all right? I'll put a tight bandage on it or something, but I can't go to the hospital."
"Don't make me arrest you again," Tim warned.
"For what? Denying medical attention? Last time I checked, that is my choice."
"No, for leaving the scene of a crime before you're told you can leave. Another obstruction of justice, just that quick."
"Then pull out the handcuffs, buddy, because I am going home." Lindy made her final move to go, and found herself in a familiar situation; Tim picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, kicking and screaming to be put back down. Eric was already off with the girl from the club, so Tim waved a quick good-bye and hailed a cab. Lindy hit the seat with a soft thud, then he got in and gave the cabbie the address.
Fifteen minutes later, the cab pulled up to a nice apartment building and Tim handed the driver a wad of cash. He opened the door and motioned for Lindy to get out and follow him. She seemed to hesitate, but at the threat of being thrown over his shoulder again, she obeyed. He headed up the steps to the second floor and unlocked the door to the third apartment on the left. Lindy felt herself shaking, and she didn't know if it was from the cool breeze or the pain of the cut. Part of it she was sure was from the uncertainty of where he had just brought her.