Title: What It's Not
Rating: T. I'm not really sure about this, I'm saying T to be safe, but if it needs to be changed, tell me in a review and I'll fix it.
Summary: Timothy Speedle finally sums up the courage to ask out his colleague in the Trace Lab. But it's not a date, he's adamant.
Author Note: This is my first Miami fic, and most of the episodes I've seen are for Wolfe, so please excuse me if I portray Speedle incorrectly, but Ryan didn't really fit this fic. I read Speed Trap by Samwise Baggins (one of the best fics I have ever read) and Memories of Brooklyn by Brown-Eyed Girl 75, and their portrayals of Speed inspired me to write a fic about him despite having not really seen too many episodes with him in them. I've seen Lost Son like five times, but that doesn't really count, huh?
Like I said, I don't really know much about the character, like whether or not he's the type to go on a trip the Everglades, which I use later on. If not, assume a friend forced him to go.
Continuity: Yeah, this may be a slight bit of an AU. I haven't seen that many S1 or S2 episodes, so I don't know the original layout of the crime lab that well (not that they showed it very much, from what I did see) so in this version, just assume his gun never jammed and Natalia came and refurnished the offices, and hell, Ryan got hired on the night shift. Wouldn't that be perfect? *sighs dreamily*
Pairings: Mostly Speed/OC, but there's definite E/C, if there are other ships I'll mention it in the authors notes for each chapter.
Enough with my rambling! On to the fic! That's why you're here, right?
Chapter 1: Not What It Looks Like
CSI Timothy Speedle took deep, calming breaths as he walked down the near-empty hallway of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. His long strides took him quickly, perhaps too quickly, towards the source of his anxiety, a gleam of copper light that he could see through the many panes of glass that cordoned off the crime lab. He paused instinctively at the entrance to the DNA lab, smiling when he remembered his reason for the habit. His life had not been the same since that day.
[*]
Three Months Previously
Speed tore through the halls of the lab, his efforts to be on time failing miserably, and inspected his appearance before he came into Horatio's view. His shirt was untucked and rumpled (as usual) and his pants weren't ironed (as usual). His boots were throwing off flecks of mud which a week in the Everglades had managed to grind in so deeply that three turns in a washing machine hadn't been able to remove it all. He ran through the locker room, pausing only to grab his lab coat, gun and ID, then headed toward the Trace lab, donning his coat as he ran. There weren't many people in the halls around eight fifteen, and Speed was able to dodge the few who commuted between the labs (they weren't surprised). It wasn't until the DNA lab that his normal morning routine hit a snag.
Speedle looked up in time to see a bright flash of copper before he crashed into someone. His tall frame overbalanced the woman, who tottered on two-inch heels before falling to the ground. She grabbed Speed's lab coat and he tumbled on top of her, managing to plant his arms on either side of her before his weight crushed the poor woman. He looked up, and found himself breathing deeply from the exertion inches away from a pair of bright emerald eyes.
Her long hair, spilled out behind her on the warm brown floor, was a rich copper, and her skin, pale and lightly flecked brown, was warmed by this. It set off a startling contrast to her almond shaped green eyes, which stared into his deep brown pair in surprise as he stuttered.
"I… uh… I'm…" Her eyes blinked at him, then he got a bit dizzy. She smiled, and with the motion he noticed the rest of her face. Her full lip, glossed over with deep red lipstick, high cheekbones, dusted lightly with blush, long eyelashes, coved with mascara, those beautiful eyes, highlighted with eyeliner. 'She really wears a lot of make-up,' was his only coherent though. 'She doesn't need to.' He realized that the woman looked to be in her mid-twenties, maybe a year or two younger than he was.
"This isn't what it looks like!" She laughed loudly, her body moving against his, and he woke up. Speed realized there was a small crowd gathered around them, and he hurried to move out of their somewhat compromising position. He moved away from her, kneeling, and helped her sit up. Her tight, dark blue pantsuit had become wrinkled, and the papers from the file she was carrying were strewn in a patternless wave along the floor.
"I'm so sorry," she said, still laughing. "I was reading and I didn't look where I was going."
"No," Speed protested, finally finding his voice. "I was running, it was my fault." He scrambled to pick up the papers, nearly falling over her again. This elicited another melodic laugh from the woman.
"Leave them," she waved her hand in the air dismissively. "They can wait." The four or five lab techs who had gathered around backed off as she waved at them. "I'm okay, really!"
She smiled to prove her point and they left, gossiping and snickering at Speed. He blushed lightly.
The red-headed woman sat back on the floor and began collecting the papers. As Speed hurried to pick up those near him, he took a closer look and realized what they were. A few glossy pages depicted a crime scene, more showed a lifeless body, and a few pages were covered in measurements of ingredients that he recognized as a tox screen.
"Is this for a case?" Speed asked without thinking. The woman looked up at him, brushing her hair behind one ear.
"Yes, the Fogerty case. I'm pretty sure it was an accident, his tox shows that he was very inebriated at the time of death, but we're doing a full investigation just in case." She looked more carefully then, inspecting his unkempt appearance and frowned. "Do you work here?"
Speed stood when she did. The red-haired woman folded papers back into the case file as she stared at him. He brushed off his coat and straightened the shirt underneath it.
"Yes. I'm Tim Speedle, CSI. Do you work here?" He smiled formally, his confusion moments before forgotten. From this distance, she didn't look that great. The make-up covered her natural beauty, and as he analyzed her clothing he realized that the tightly fitting garment probably marked her as a stuffy bureaucrat.
She grinned in response to his question, and his bureaucrat theory was suddenly shaken. "I'm the new CSI, Rebecca Jordan. It's nice to meet you, CSI Speedle." She offered a pale hand, which he took. Her grip was firm, but without the challenge of strength that sometimes came with the new hires.
"I didn't know we were getting a new investigator." There was not enough money in the budget. There was never enough money in the budget for anything, Speedle knew.
"I've been here for a week," she laughed. "Where have you been?" Her carefree laugh made him smile. Maybe she wasn't that bad, although his instincts, toned from years as a criminal investigator, told him that the pantsuit and the sheer volume of beauty products screamed politician or higher-up.
"He's been on a nice vacation in the Glades while the rest of us picked up his slack!" The new voice came from behind the new CSI and she turned to face the speaker with a grin. Speed rolled his eyes as Eric Delko came into view.
"Damn, Speed, you just met the new girl, and you already laid her down?" Delko grinned, Speed froze, and Rebecca laughed, throwing her head back. Speed opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
"It was my fault, Delko," she snickered. "And I would expect you to say something like that. You're just angry it wasn't you!"
Delko's dark skin got noticeably redder, and Speed chuckled at his friend. The new girl wouldn't take any of Delko's crap! For some reason, this thought made him much happier, and he relaxed a bit.
Eric glared at his fellow CSI and turned to the woman standing beside him. "This, Rebecca, is the reason you were hired," Delko gestured at Speed. "We need somebody in the Trace Lab who knows what they're doing!"
"Hilarious, Delko." Speed nodded, letting the jibe slide.
"No, I know he's just kidding." Rebecca turned back to Speed and smiled at him. "CSI's Delko and Duquesne have been complaining about how no work has made it through the Trace Lab since you've been gone."
"How many times, Rebecca?" Eric made a long-suffering look. "It's Eric and Calleigh, we're not formal here. We still haven't gotten you to dress like a human, but you could call us all by our names!"
Speed watched on confusedly, as Rebecca smoothed the dark blue jacket of her suit with the hand not holding the manila folder, suddenly embarrassed. "I know," she sighed, "it's just tough to remember. Everything was so different in Chicago."
"Well you're not in Chicago anymore, you're in Miami!" Eric grinned and made a quick flick of his arms that indicated dancing. "You need to settle down and enjoy the Miami sun!"
Rebecca laughed in response to Eric's joking and Speed felt a twinge in his stomach that he correctly identified as jealousy and spite. 'Delko is such a playboy,' he thought angrily. 'I thought she wouldn't fall for his flirting.' Suddenly feeling the need to situate himself, he spoke up. "So, you transferred from Chicago?"
Rebecca turned back to him; the three were know standing in a loose circle a few feet down from DNA. The light in her eyes died down a bit as she spoke, and her smile dimmed. "Yeah, I needed a… change of scenery." Then she smiled again. "Well, a break from the endless wind may be just what I need, right?"
Her bright expression was contagious, and Speed found himself laughing lightly to what he was sure had not been a joke. Rebecca turned back to Delko, spinning on her high heels, and Speed realized that she would be only around five foot five without the heels. No wonder his even six feet had knocked her down so easily!
"I just finished the tox on the Fogerty case," Rebecca explained to Eric, and Speed remembered the file in her hands as she handed it to his colleague. Eric looked at the top paper in the folder quickly, his brown eyes stopping at the bottom.
"I guess you were right, this looks accidental. I'll get this to H." He looked up and grinned at his best friend. "Good thing you're back, Speed, we were starting to think a gator had eaten you." He slapped Speed's arm jokingly, then walked off toward the elevators.
"Speed?" Rebecca asked, smiling up at him. Speed swallowed, suddenly nervous again.
"Yeah, it's less of a mouthful than Speedle. You can call me Speed. Or Speedle if you want, or you could call me Tim or Timothy, I don't really care." Why was he stuttering like some boy in grad school talking to the pretty girl on the swings? He never acted like this, never!
But Rebecca didn't laugh at his ridiculous demeanor, she just smiled thoughtfully. "I like Tim," she said, and his pulse jumped another few beats.
"Okay," Speed breathed. Taking control of his muscles, he reached out his hand for her to shake again, and she did, with a grin.
"It's very nice to meet you, Tim," She said politely, even moving one high-heeled foot in front of the other and dipping slightly as though in a curtsey.
"It's nice to meet you too, Becca." The name rolled of his tongue, feeling perfectly natural, and in this realization he nearly missed the look of shock and horror that caused her hand to go slack against his. "Are you okay?" Speed asked cautiously.
"I'm fine," she decided firmly, but her grip was suddenly tighter, then she let go altogether. "I'm fine," she muttered so he could barely hear, then took a deep breath and looked back up at him. Her deep green eyes were still shaken, but her face split into that grin again.
"I have to go, but I'll see you later?" She asked.
"Definitely."
Becca smiled at him and walked away toward the morgue, and he stood there for a moment, feeling the warmth left in his hand, before he came to his senses. "Damn!" Speed exclaimed, looking at his watch. He hurried to the foyer to sign his timecard, by now at least twenty minutes late, and looked over his shoulder to catch the last glimpse of copper hair before she was out of sight.
[*]
At the entrance to the Trace Lab Speed stopped, blinking out of his memory and taking a last deep breath, steeling himself. Then, he plastered a grin on his face and walked into the lab.
Becca looked up from the bloodstained sweater she was analyzing and grinned when she recognized him. Her pale lips had no lipstick, nor was she wearing any other make-up except a bit of eyeliner and foundation. Calleigh had finally convinced her to go on a shopping trip, and the dark capris and sapphire v-neck she wore were much better suited to the Miami heat than the tight suits she'd brought from Chicago. Her copper hair was tied back in a loose ponytail to keep it from the evidence and her footwear was low-heeled sandals.
"Hey, Becca," Speed said a bit self-consciously. "You doin' anything tonight?"
Oh, my God. I am writing a multi-chapter fic. This story has been swimming around my head for weeks and I swore to myself I would never write it down. I just hope with my earnest heart that no one I am related to, friends with, or who is the neighbor-of-the-dogwalker-of-a-relative-of-the-person-who-my-cousin-twice-removed-passed-in-the-grocery-store-in-a-state-on-the-other-side-of-the-country ever reads this. It's not that I don't want them to know what I'm writing, but I am a very private person and writing is like putting my brain on display, and anyone who has met me knows that's something the world is not ready to see. This story especially is one that I never thought I'd write, but here it is. Please don't crucify it too much!
The next chap should be up as soon as I get my act together, sit down, and type it, but if I'm incredibly lazy (I don't see it happening) this could be read as a one-shot.