So, this is just a story that popped into my head when I was trying to go to bed. As of yet I have no real plot in mind, but it'll unravel itself. More or less, this is Sara's commentary on everyday CSI life. It occurs before the bliss of GSR canon because I find it more fun to write with a little angst present.


"It's not the despair...I can handle the despair. It's the hope!"

Everything comes full circle. That's the montage that I grew up hearing. That karmic retribution would come back and bite whoever deserved it in the ass when the time was at a prime. And so I've come to wonder one of two things; whom did I piss off in a past life, or, when is that karma going to come back for all those others? Granted, I was raised by crazed parents, one of which killed the other and forever entrenched me in a world steeped in rage and hostility, but that's a tale for some other time.

I guess starting at the beginning would make more sense, but it seems so droll, so last century (which, technically is the case), so mundane and household. The present is where life is at, but I suppose without background, there can be no context, and, as my ever so challenged boss loves to declare "Without context evidence is meaningless." I'm liable to quote him quite a bit, and as you'll see he's a large part of my earlier ruminations on karmic retribution.

"Hey Sar, Ms. Head in the Clouds. Did Hodges give you the findings on the trace you gave to him earlier?"

That would be Nick. He's cute, but in a fumbling, ex-jock, Texan sort of way. Not really my cup of Joe. Not that I would necessarily give a steadfast no, but...

"Uh, no, not yet. You know Hodges. Only sucks up to you if your name rhymes with Dilbert and you're a huge fan of the insect world. I doubt we'll have 'em back for at least another shift or two."

And the man with the funny name that I speak of, well, that would be the boss man, Grissom. Which, I understand does not rhyme with Dilbert, or really much of anything else now that I come to think of it, but we refer to him by his last name for some obscure reason that doesn't come to mind at will. Gilbert Grissom. Doctor technically, but his only patients are crime scenes and the icky insects that inhabit them. Man, those things can get nasty. The bugs that is.

"Well I guess that means we're at a bit of a standstill in the way of warrants, if that's the case."

Detective Brass. A stout figure who had seen more than his fair share of horrors and whose life I would trust my own in with no qualm.

"I imagine so. I mean, one of us could sleep with the judge and get the warrant that way."

What? Like no one else was thinking it? Anyone? Where'd that cricket come from?

"Or not. That works too." I averted my eyes from the rest of the groups shocked looks. You'd think they all thought I was the Virgin Mary. Not all of us are ex-strippers boys!

"Anyways," started Nick with a slight jaw crack and an extension on a word that really gets more mileage than an old Ford , " I think that that's about all we can do for now assuming that all evidence is logged." A question hung in his eyes.

"Of course it's logged," I said, mildly offended. Just because I hadn't had my hit of caffeine yet didn't mean I wasn't at least semi-functional. "Jeesh, give me some credit."

"What, you were turned down for a credit rating Sara?" asked Grissom, ever oblivious to things that were not somehow tied to, once again, a crime scene or bugs. Or bodacious blondes and brunette dominatrixes it seemed. His glasses perched on his nose, he looked over a casefile at me with all the authority of a professor ready to scold a student.

"Nope. I'm just a crack dealing hooker, so they turned me down," but he was intent on the file and heeded no attention other than a non-committal nod. "Well, I'm going to go pay Hodges a visit, see if I can't convince him that I should be his number one priority." I said as I rose from the seat.

"Make sure to mention the hooker part, that ought to grab his attention" Nick intoned, receiving a well deserved swat to the head on my exit.

At least it would grab someone's.