Knock, knock, knock, on the glass door.
"I didn't page you, why are you here-" he looked up from the microscope and narrowed his eyes in a mixture of repulsion, fear, anger, suspicion and confusion. "Emmy?"
"David."
"I don't like you," he said, matter-of-factly.
"The feeling's mutual," she responded, not missing a beat.
"Why are you here?"
"I need your help."
Narrowed eyes from both faces.
"Why should I be of any help to you?"
Silence.
"Because you're my brother."
"Sort of," he mumbled.
She glared.
"Like you'd help me," he said, turning away, rolling his eyes, "If I needed it."
"I would, and you know it. Not that you'd need it, or admit that you need it. You're smart, despite how much I despise that fact and the fact that you know it and use it for superiority, and you're too proud to ask for help if ever you need it."
"I don't need it."
"Never said you did. But I do."
"Do say?"
"Do need. Help. Now. Please?"
He sighed, "What did you get yourself into? You arrested for prostitution or something?"
She clenched her fist, "If I weren't begging for your help I swear to God you'd get a slap in the face right now. How dare you accuse me of being a whore?"
"If the thong fits..."
"You know what? Forget it. I don't know why I even thought you cared remotely enough about me to help me out when I needed you," she turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm. "Lower your voice, talk quickly, and then leave. I don't want anyone I work with to see you."
"Yeah, 'cause I'm the one who's embarrassing," she rolled her eyes.
"What do you want?"
"I already told you, help."
"What do I get out of it? And help with what?" he demanded angrily, his voice a harsh whisper.
"Well, I'll help feed your egotistical, meticulous, superiority complex if you help me sort out something that might get me into a lot of trouble."
"If you want me to taint evidence, get the hell out of my sight."
"Calm your jets, sibling, I'm not here to compromise your integrity or mine. I'm being accused of something I didn't do and I need your help to help me prove it."
"Can't, I'm a lab tech, not a Crime Scene Investigator."
"No, but you're friends with some C.S.I.s… Right?"
He frowned, not sure if 'friend' would be a term any of his CSI co-workers would use to describe him. "I guess you could say that..."
"Well... you could introduce them to me and they can help me out of this little jam."
"Absolutely not. No one knows about my past except I left California on a slight disagreement with my supers. You're leaving, and I'm not having anything to do with you or anything from our past. Nothing. No more."
"David-"
"No, Emma."
"I hate you. You can't help me out? I'm your sister."
"Not technically. And telling me you hate me before begging for help is more of a hindrance to your plea. The feeling's mutual, by the way. That's why I left."
"You're still mad about Mom and Dad. I had nothing to do with them, and you know it."
"You're still a little whore. Get out of my face."
"Why do you refuse to help me?"
"Because we hate each other. Just because I work in a police establishment doesn't mean I can clear you of anything you're probably guilty of."
"You think I'm guilty of murder?"
He looked at her seriously. "Why are you accused of murder?"
"Well if you wont help me and you don't care, why should I answer you? Goodbye David. Have a nice life." she turned and walked out of his lab.
He watched as his little sister walked away.
She walked through Head Quarters, her arms folded in front of her. She kept her gaze directly in front of her, almost walking into some guy. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking up at the surprised CSI.
"No, no. I'm sorry. I wasn't really watching where I was going… Er, have I seen you somewhere before?"
She looked up at him, studying his somewhat familiar features, "No... I don't think so," she mumbled, pushing past him, but he fell in stride.
"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked, knowing he'd seen her somewhere before, but not able to put his finger on it.
"No. I was just here to see David Hodges and he's an ass so I'm leaving. Thank you, though." She sighed and stopped, "actually, tell him if he changes his mind, Emmy will be at the Lucky Star motel near the Strip 'til next Saturday. That gives him two weeks. Thanks…" she flashed a brief smile and he gawked at her as she exited through the glass doors.
"She was here to see Hodges?" he muttered dubiously. "You've got to be kidding me."
He walked quickly to the Trace lab and knocked three times quickly on the glass.
"After walking out like that, why the hell are you back?" Hodges asked angrily, turning to see his co-worker. He rolled his eyes, "Oh Joy. This day keeps getting brighter and better."
"Hello Mr. Sunshine," Greg commented dryly.
"I didn't page you. What do you want?"
"Your friend had a message for you," Greg said, shrugging.
Hodges raised an eyebrow. "Friend? I'm sorry, no friends have visited me today,"
"Or ever, I'm sure, considering your general lack thereof."
Hodges scowled right as Wendy walked in. "Greg, sorry, your evidence is in… figured you'd want to know A.S.A.P., or else I wouldn't have come here," she said, trying deliberately to look away from Hodges and at Greg. Greg looked at her confused for a moment and said, "Right. Thanks, I'll be right there." She nodded, but didn't leave, almost waiting for him, but he turned back to Hodges.
"Yeah, well, you're lady-not-friend told me to tell you she'd be at the Lucky Star Motel for two weeks. And that you're an ass. I don't know how you manage to piss off everyone you meet, but if a lady is throwing herself at you, how the hell are you an ass to her?"
"Kiss my ass,"
"Thanks, I'll pass."
Hodges rolled his eyes and Wendy raised an eyebrow. "You coming, now, Sanders?"
Greg nodded, and said over his shoulder, "And by the way, if you don't want Emmy, I'll take her."
Hodges scowled, "I don't want her, and you stay away from her or I'll have you disassembled."
Greg smirked and went with Wendy over to DNA. "What was that all about?" she asked, trying to be nonchalant. He shrugged, "Pretty lady came to see him. Can you believe it? An attractive woman was here for Hodges. And, of course, he was himself to her, which doesn't bode well for anyone. He may be smart, but he's an idiot."
She said nothing, biting her tongue to not reprimand him for saying that no attractive woman could possibly like Hodges. She didn't want him to be reading the message wrong. Or, right, technically.
She shrugged it off. "Your evidence?"
He nodded, "Please and thank you."
"The DNA from the lipstick matches the DNA from your murder weapon and the condom."
He raised an eyebrow, "That's interesting,"
She nodded, "Well, the saliva from the, er, 'toy' also matched- an unknown female, probably there the time your vic was murdered. I need another sample to compare it to… ran it through the system, no match.."
He nodded. "I'll get it to you once I find it."
She smirked, "Thanks."
"No, thank you," he said grinning at her, not bothering to hide the mild teasing flirtation in his voice.
She rolled her eyes, "Down boy, and back to work you go."
He shook his head and left, "See ya, Simms."
She raised an eyebrow at his back and glanced at Hodges, who was staring at her. They stared at each other for a moment, but she turned away, flustered, avoiding his gaze. He frowned and turned back to his work, 'She won't even look at me she hates me that much…' he thought bitterly.
She shivered, feeling vulnerable and unsafe in the shabby motel room, unfamiliar and uncomfortable with her surroundings in a very high crime-rate city. Not that it was a whole lot worse than LA, but it was still scary being in this place alone. "Why the hell did I say two weeks? He won't come find me…" she muttered bitterly to herself hating how much her brother hated her.
She shuddered, her paranoia kicking in. She felt like she was being watched. She crashed on her couch in her pajama pants and a hoodie, headphones on, but kept glancing around nervously. It wasnt until later, when she was in bed when she saw something move near her closet...
A/N: the dreaded cliff hanger. Well, this is an intro to a new story that i've got a lot of ideas for, so i wont be giving up on this one as easily as the others. Expect another story out (CSI) by the week's end. This is post-LabRats, hence the Wendy-David tension. I thought it was amusing how in the last episode, Hodges made a comment about Greg's state when he came back covered in trash (blood, and marinara, and, appearently, vomit), and Greg bit back with the ever so witty "Kiss my ass" so i figure Hodges'll get to shoot it back at him. Eventual conflict between OCsister Emma and whatnot, possible romances in bloom. Tons of light humor, angst, mystery, drama, and good ol' CSI-ish-ness. So, drop a line tell me what you think, and i'll have more up as soon as i'm done writing it.
See ya.
Peace,
-Jenn