Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just borrow them.

Author's Note: I write without restrictions - I don't follow timelines or recount the correct "version" of events. I use the show - as well as what happens in the show - for inspiration. In saying that, die hard CSI fans - if any read - will remember what I'm writing about from the show, however the accuracy won't be documented play by play and word by word.
I prefer to write from Catherine's POV – if it varies, it'll be stated.

Introduction:

"Destination unknown," chirped Siri.
I sighed and stretched my neck while lightly lifting my foot off the gas, silently cursing as my heeled boot nicked the floor's carpet.
I had been driving around darkened streets in the pristine Stepford-like neighbourhood for over fifteen minutes already. I had the address, just no directions and it didn't help that all these houses look freakishly the same.
If Siri mocks me once more with "destination unknown" I'm tempted to throw my phone out the window; then she really will be in an unknown destination.

I was hungry, dirty and tired and so not ready to work a double – I hadn't had anywhere near the appropriate amount of caffeine today. The rationed coffee that I was able to crunch down was the sludge Grissom had brought with him to a scene we had out in the desert – it was like a sandstorm.

I shut Siri up and as I rounded another corner (I'm almost positive I've seen that evil looking garden gnome before) an explosion of blue and red lights danced in front of me, basically the arrow above the house. I pulled up and grabbed my kit, putting on protective clothing while making my way to the crime scene tape; the boundary line protecting the entrance to what nightmares are made of.

"Catherine! Yo, Cathrine!" I looked up to see Bobby – a rookie I had come to know well – waving and holding the tape up; just like a gentleman.
"Hey Bobby," I smiled.
"When we goin' dancing? And you know what I mean by dancing!" Scratch gentleman.
"When you learn to dance," I said breezing past him with a wry smile.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" asked Nick Stokes with a small look of panic.
I've known Nick for a very long time and that panic was quickly evolving into fear.
I frowned. "Uh, my job?" He moved to stand at the bottom front door step, giving him a head height advantage while blocking the crime scene totally. "Nick are you okay?"
"Catherine, just go home, please!" Fear was moving to urgency – what the hell was going on? Instead of feeling indignant and defensive – like I normally would at being told what to do – I felt the need to understand, an explanation of some sort.
Taking a square stance and folding my arms I said, as calmly as I could, "Nicky what's going on? Why are you so upset? I've handled crime scenes before, some pretty bad ones too – you were there, you were the one throwing up." I gave him a small smile.
"Cath, please…" he said softly, but firmly. "Please just go home. I'll try to explain when I can." He reached out and tugged at my fingers, taking hold of my hand and squeezing it gently. "I'm trying to protect you."
I nodded bewildered. "Okay," I said softly, then started to walk backwards.
"Here, let me walk you." He took my kit and turned me around, his hand resting on the small of my back.
When we got to the car he put my kit in the trunk and came around to the driver's side, where I was waiting to climb in.
"Cath…" He hold of both hands now.
"Nicky, whatever it is, whoever it is, please just explain this to me. I won't go back to the scene, but I need to know because this is freaking me out – you're freaking me out!" I looked up at him insistently. "I've already seen an evil garden gnome…" I teased, trying to get him to smile.
He returned a small smile and then wrapped me into a bear-like hug almost crushing me. He let go, held me by my shoulders and gently kissed my forehead. "Stay safe." And with that, he walked back to the crime scene turning around when he got to the stairs and waited for me to drive off.

I'm plagued by thoughts all the way home, like clouds of nightmares each ready to reveal their horrific secrets. Was Nick okay? Why did he seem so scared? What or who was he afraid of? Why couldn't I take this scene? Why couldn't he explain anything to me?
My head hit the pillow and I was almost dizzy with the whirling thoughts. I tried to fall asleep, but sleep just opened the vortex to the vicious unknown. As the sun rose, peeking its beams through my bedroom window I threw the covers aside and decided that I wouldn't leave him alone until this was sorted out.