Been writing a lot of PureJoy lately. It's great but I've been missing my Brass. So I'm taking a little break form Grillows to spend some time with my other favorite set of blue eyes. He and I need to have a little fun in fantasyland. LOL. This kind of follows Jim through season 7 but since it's my story I get to deviate occassionally and also add a new character. The new character is where the fun begins. Oh, BTW, yeah...there's some dialogue from the series so that belongs to the writers. The stuff in between is mine!

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Jim Brass was finishing a phone call when Warrick walked into his office.

Brass spoke into the phone, " Okay. I'll do it."

"Hey, Jim."

Brass hung up. "What's up?"

Warrick looked around, obviously looking for something. When he couldn't seem to find it, he asked, "Where's your hardware?"

Brass grimaced, " Oh, come on, come on."

"Don't even try it; you were all over the news. Let's see it."

Obviously uncomfortable Brass groaned. "Yeah, yeah." He opened his desk drawer and showed Warrick the plaque.

Warrick read the inscription:

THE MEDAL OF VALOR IS AWARDED TO CAPTAIN JAMES BRASS
For heroism in the line of duty. He displayed great personal courage and a
disregard for personal consequences, risking loss of life or great bodily injury
in the attempted rescue of innocent civilian life. He is to be commended.

"Wow. That's beautiful. What's with all the modesty? It should be up on your wall, man."

Jim's discomfort was eveident. "For what? For taking a bullet or not dying?"

"For being brave."

"You know what, Rick? I'll tell you something. I walked into that hotel room, and 23 years of police work told me I knew what that guy was about. And he played me like a damn rookie. He beat me at my own game. I mean, what's the dumbest thing you've ever done? You want to make a poster of it, put it on your wall? I don't think so." His bitterness soaked his voice. Putting the plaque back in the drawer, he closed it.

"But thanks for coming by."

Nodding Warrick responded, "All right." and then he turned to leave.

Jim scowled as he watched his friend walk away. Hmmm. friend. Who would have thought that a few years back. He remembered how angry he had been with Rick and deliberatly baited him by not requesting a warrent on his case. Then Rick had been assigned to babysit the Gribbs girl and she ended up dead. Jim had lost his spot at CSI over it and he'd been furious with Rick. But later, when Ellie had gotten into trouble, Rick had been there, working the case, trying to be fair, and trying to cover Jim's ass when he'd screwed up by going after the boyfriend. Then Rick had helped in LA again when Ellie was in trouble. One good thing that had come from Eliie's mess was that the two men had forged a friendship.

His phone rang again and he answered. It was going to be one of those days.

After work Jim found a tattoo parlor that he'd heard was a good one. He sat in the chair as the artist worked, grimacing slightly as he got a tattoo on the right side of his chest. As the artist finished Jim looked at it. Under the bullet scar, the date was written: May 11, 2006. It was the day the old Jim Brass had died. Jim wasn't sure what the new Brass would do differently. But he was determined to take a more positive direction.

The next day was hell. Catherine had woken up in a strange motel, thinking she'd been raped. She didn't tell anybody about it until Lindsey had been kidnapped. Turned out it was all part of a plot against Sam Braun, who ended up bleeding out on the sidewalk that night in Catherine's arms. It had been gut wrenching for Jim seeing his friend go through so much, the absolute worst being her fear for her daughter. But the loss of her father had hit her hard too. They weren't exactly the ideal father/daughter combination but each tried in thier own way to make it work and underneath it all, they loved each other. Now he was gone from her life. Jim tried hard to be there for her, especially since Grissom was all wound up in the miniature case. Normally, he'd be the shoulder she'd cry on but Jim had noticed some distance between the two lately. So he tried to pick up the slack. Catherine had appreciated his presence, but really only wanted to be with her daughter; something he totally understood.

A few weeks later he was called to a crime scene. It looked pretty routine on the surface; a B&E gone bad, two dead residents resulted. Catherine was the CSI on the case. She was inspecting the scene, doing a preliminary run through before getting down to the nitty gritty. "No Grissom tonight?" he asked.

"No, he actually took the night off. I'm glad too, Jim. He's looking pretty grim these days. I'm afraid things are finally getting to him, especially with the Miniature Killer being so elusive."

"Yeah, he's worried about that one. Well, maybe a day off will help him clear some cobwebs."

"I sure hope so."

"Well, I'll be around. Maybe check with the neighbors to see if they saw anything."

Catherine nodded, her thoughts already deep into the scene.

Stepping ouside, he saw a group of neighbors standing at the corner of the next yard. Vultures always come out to get a look. He walked toward the group, introducing himself. "Did anyone happen to see or hear anything?"

As expected, no one saw anything. He talked to a few others that were lingering around the street and then was standing just inside the tape, looking toward the house. "Excuse me," a voice sounded from behind.

He turned and recognized a woman from the original group. She was holding a cup of coffee. "I, um, thought...well, you look like it's been a long day and maybe a cup of coffee is in order."

He looked more closely at her. She was an attractive woman. He couldn't place her agewise exactly...mid forties maybe, maybe a little older. He took the coffe from her and thanked her. He waited for the curiousity to get the best of her, as it usually did with bystanders and the questions would begin. But she stood quietly. Finally he felt he needed to break the silence. "So, you really didn't see anything?"

Her face was grim. "No, I'm afraid I didn't. I wish I had, the Emersons were good people. They didn't deserve this."

"Yeah, I guess I see a lot of that." He wasn't sure why he'd made that comment.

She looked sympathetically at him. "I'm sure you do. It can't be easy; your line of work, I mean."

He studied her face briefly "Yeah, well...I should get back to the scene. Thanks again for the coffee. We don't usually get treated so kindly."

She smiled and took the mug as he handed it to her. Their fingers brushed and he felt a connection...or was that in his imagination? He watched her as she walked back to her house, disappearing inside.

Jim returned to where Catherine was working. She had dusted for prints and was studying the blood spatter. David had taken the bodies away,which made the room more comfortable for Jim. After all the years he'd spent in homicide, he still couldn't get used to DBs. They just gave him the creeps.

Catherine looked up as he approached. "Got some good prints. Hopefully they aren't all our vics. Looked like the deaths were blunt force trauma. Spatter supports that. Looks like the perps ransaked the bedroom, looking for jewelry probably. I lifted some prints in there too."

Jim was listening but part of his mind was in the house across the street and two doors down. Something about the woman had touched him.

"So Jim," Catherine continued. "How about breakfast after I get this back to the lab?"

"Jim's attention shifted totally on her, "ah, yeah...sure." he smiled.

They were sitting in their favorite diner a couple hours later. He was quietly stirring his coffee, his eggs getting cold. Catherine watched him wondering about the source of the distraction. "Jim, you okay?"

He looked up to her, somewhat guilty. "Oh, I'm sorry Catherine... I uh..."

"Okay Jim, who is she?" She asked smiling and teasing.

"What?" he asked bewildered.

"You're in another world this morning. Usually that means there's a woman...at least with most guys I know."

He grinned. "And I'm like most guys, eh?"

She chuckled, "most definately not. But something is going on with you."

He sighed deeply. "Yeah, I dunno. You know, you just kind of go along and you're doing your job and things seem routine. And that's the way things have been with me for a long time, routine. Thing is, after I got shot, I swore that things were going to be different; I'd be different. But I seem to be falling into the same routine."

"Why would you want to be different, Jim? You're a pretty good guy."

"Yeah, well..." he grinned shyly. "Thanks. But well...you know...I looked up and realized that I really am alone. I mean, I guess I'd always thought Ellie would come around eventually, but after the way she disappeared...well, I'm not so sure."

"You're not alone Jim. You got several good friends here. You've got me...and Gil in particular."

"Yeah, and you guys are great. But the reality is that any one of us could just pick up and leave anytime. Oh, we'll stay in touch...but the closeness will disapppear too. Besides, what I'm talking about is...well, something more."

Catherine studied her friend intently. She knew he didn't like being alone, but she hadn't realized how truly lonely he was. Unlike Grissom, Jim wanted, needed someone in his life. And he wasn't afraid to admit it, even if he did so shyly. "So Jim, when was the last time you had a woman," she paused for effect, "in your life, I mean. Really in your life?"

He chuckled at her question."You mean a real relationship? Years." He said it flatly.

"So what's brought all this up tonight?"

He seemed to be weighing his answer. Finally she detected a slight shrug in his shoulders, as if one side of his argument had won out over the another. "At the scene, there was a woman who brought me coffee. I dunno, she was nice...not the usual treatment we get. And, well... I felt a connection. At least I think I did." He looked at her expectantly. Grimacing he continued, "crazy, huh?"

"No, I don't think so. Why don't you call her? You did get her name, didn't you?"

"She's probably married. Besides, we're still working the case. She's a potential witness."

"So, the case won't go on forever. And in the meantime, you're a detective. I'm sure you can find out if she is married or not."

"Yeah, I suppose it wouldn't be too difficult..."

Another week passed. The B& E was still open when a mob went on a spree through Las Vegas, beating and killing as they moved. He and Sofia were kept busy with the CSIs tracking their activities. Worst part came when Greg Sanders landed in the middle of one of their frenzies. He wound up in the hospital making the case personnal for Jim. They broke the case, tracking down all the perps and locking them up. But the James boy died as a result of Greg's plowing onto the scene and breaking up the beating; his toubles weren't over. Greg had saved a life through his actions, however. Jim considered pulling out the plaque, changing the name and giving it to the kid. It might help smooth things over with his parents. In the end, Jim decided he didn't want the kid to get the wrong idea; didn't want him to think he should be collecting trophies for doing his job, so the plaque stayed in his drawer.

Another few weeks passed. The miniature killer had struck again, killing the old lady. Worse, Greg had been slapped in court. Politics had reared it's ugly head, and Greg had been made a scapegoat. They hadn't ruled against him, but they hadn't ruled in support of him either. It angered Jim when Sofia delivered the bitter news. He'd been the victim of politics enough to know how it felt. He made a mental note to buy the kid a drink. The one piece of good news was that the B&E had finally gotten a break. The robbers had struck again and gotten caught red handed this time. When the detective in charge of that case searched one of the perp's house, they found jewelry from Jim's case. The CSIs put it all together and they had their guys. Now Jim had to decide if he was going to call the woman, Jenna Thompson, or not. He had done enough inquiring to discover that she was a widow. Now what? He decided to give himself a few more days.

Jim had spent the shift on two cases. Catherine was running with concrete man, one of the most bizarre scenes he'd ever been called to. Guy was buried waist deep in cement when they found him. A dead woman was lying close by. Grissom was on another scene that looked like it might be linked to the miniature killer. Right now though, concrete man was in the interrogation room, waiting for Jim.

"Hello, Jim." said concrete man.

"Hello."

"Hello ... who?"

"You know, I don't need your name to arrest you. I can call you John Doe. Okay, let's assume for the moment that you did know the dead lady laying five feet from where we found you. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that you killed her, and then you tried to dispose of her body, but you did something very, very stupid. Are you with me so far?"

"Interesting. Do you have the time, Jim?"

"Yeah."

'Cause it looks like it's half-past. You owe me ten bucks."

Brass chuckled. He'd made a bet with the guy earlier that he'd have him made by 9:00 p.m. Brass had lost the bet. Taking out his money clip he pulled out a ten-dollar bill. Holding it out he spoke to the uniform that was with him. "Make sure this goes in his personal effects." Then back to concrete man, "Now, I'm gonna suggest you get a name tag, put the name "Trixie" on it,
'cause that's what your cell mates will be calling you."

Concreteman took the bill.

"Take him to his cell."

Concrete man waved the ten-dollar bill out in front of him as he moved through the hallway.

"Anybody want anything from the vending machines? Come on. It's on me.Actually, it's on Jimbo." Looking towards the officers, he continued. "Took this baby off of Captain Brass myself." Then to Brass, "Look at me, generating income my first day in the joint.
Yeah, Mom would be so proud. Not hungry? Soda, maybe? Anybody?"

Sofia was in the hall with Suzy, a child that had been one of the children that Paula Sullivan watched. Sullivan was the dead woman. Her mother was there also. Concrete man saw Suzy and tried to hide behind the ten-dollar bill. He tried to signal her to be quiet but the little girl looked at him and her face lit up.

"Hi, Max!" the little girl chirped when she saw him.

"Hi, Suzy."

Brass couldn't resist. Smirking he quipped, "Hi, Max." Brass took the ten back from Max. Max rolled his eyes.

They headed back to the room.

Max knew he was caught. "Yeah, I killed my wife, but it was an accident."

"You accidentally stabbed her through the heart?"

"That's right. Believe me or don't believe me. I don't care. It's the truth."

And so that case had been broken. But they weren't having such good luck with the miniature case and the day ended on a mixed note...the way most days eneded. He should have been happy that they solved one of his two cases. And Jim had to admit, Max's case had been anything but boring...amusing even. But he still felt an emptiness, a hole where emotions should be. He wanted to feel something besides routine.

Late the next morning Jim sat in his easy chair, sipping coffee and holding a phone number; her phone number. Finally he mustered his courage and began dialing.

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