Author's Note: I know they have places like this where I live, so I'd assume that Vegas has something similar. Please review. Spoilers through season three. Takes place when Greg is still a lab rat...

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, Nick, Warrick or Greg (real bummer on that last one). If I did, I'd be getting paid for this stuff. :)

Chapter One

He knew he shouldn't be doing this. He wasn't some sad soul who needed to drown out his pain at the bottom of a bottle, but he figured this case was an exception. He was tired of the long nights and the horror he saw everyday. Today had been the worst. Always is with kids, thought Nick.

He eyed the bar suspiciously. It didn't have a very grand entrance, to say the least. A fairly small neon light above a set of stairs flashed the word "Pandora's." Three flashes, then the little lights around the sign moved clockwise. Greg had told him about this place, how it's open from 4 a.m. to 10 a.m. for people who worked nights. Nick was pretty sure that it wasn't legal, but Greg had assured him that it only required special licenses to do so. After all this was Vegas.

Nick's eyes flickered between the sign and the stairs. Might as well, Nick thought. Maybe I'll meet someone who will understand my hours. With a lot of courage, and a deep breath, Nick approached the entrance.

"I'll need to see your ID," came a gruff voice. Nick nearly jumped out of his skin and turned to face a very intimidating bouncer. After a moment of composing himself, he reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He flicked it open to his driver's license.

The bouncer leaned in and Nick could smell his musky cologne. The bouncer only cocked an eyebrow and held out his hand. "Cover charge, cough it up," came the voice again. Nick was confused. "Five bucks cover, no exceptions." Nick sighed and handed him a five. The bouncer waved his hand for him to go in.

Nick walked down the narrow staircase, and through the narrow hallway, black lights lighting his way. When he reached his assumed destination, Nick stopped short.

It was dark inside, green lasers flew all about the room; a smoky haze lit a fairly good sized dance floor. There was no sitting room at the bar; only a few benches lined that dark corner. Nick could barely distinguish a couple of figures making out in the corner. Beyond that was a raised area. Nick imagined that live bands could play there.

The music was so loud, he could feel his insides bumping to the beat. As he looked beyond the dance floor, he discovered several tables, seating, and to his surprise, a second bar. Nick saw a couple of doorways leading in different directions; one on the right side of the bar, led to…well, more dark as far as Nick could see. And as he looked to the other one he could see it open as someone made their way in. Smoking section, he thought.

He made his way through the crowd and began to notice a few strange things. Everyone was dressed in all black, or bright neon colors, almost everyone was pierced, and he was sure that he could feel eyes from all over the room on him. Some people looked like vampires, some members looked like Russian mafia, and he was pretty sure he saw a couple of girls who weren't exactly 'all woman.' A lot of people were holding glow sticks, and he was positive his jeans and red t-shirt made him stand out.

Nick sped up his pace and finally, after what seemed like hours, slumped into a bar stool. Of course, he thought. After all it was Greg who referred me here.

"You must be new," a pleasantly smooth voice cut in. Nick looked up to see a pale face smiling down at him with soft blue eyes.

"I'm Nick Stokes."

"Name's Alyssa. What can I get you?" Nick looked her over. Black undershirt of some kind with a lacy…thing over it. Nick admitted to himself that she was pretty, and then reminded himself that if he didn't look up soon, he would be caught.

"Beer?"

"We have beer. What kind of beer?" she asked with a smile.

"Samuel Adams? Guinness? Something thicker."

"Sure thing, sweetie." She disappeared for a few moments, and came back with a glass of cold refreshing forget-my-life. Nick smiled.

"What are you doing here?"

"I work nights, and I needed to wind down. My friend told me about this place, but I don't think it's really the right place for me."

"Don't let it get you down. You shouldn't have come on a Tuesday morning. It's Freaks night-morning." Nick smiled.

"Freaks?"

"People who don't wanna be judged based on looks just because they're pierced or happen to wear a lot of black." Nick smiled again. She couldn't be older than 23. "Like Goth, but better in bed."

"So what mornings should I come?"

"Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Thursday is college ni-morning, 18 and up, no alcohol served. Wednesday is live music. We let local bands to play. They get their sound out, get fans, and of course we pay them." She paused. "Sometimes." Nick let a chuckle loose, and sipped his beer.

"What about Saturday and Sunday?" he asked.

"We don't want to give party goers an excuse to keep partying. Weeknights only." Nick smiled at the thought. "Should I start you a tab for you, honey?"

"No," Nick said. "Just name your price. I think I'm gonna head out after this."

"Five bucks." Nick smiled, and pulled out his wallet. "Don't be discouraged." Nick laid out a five and two ones. She rang up the register.

"Why not? Because I've made a friend?" He let one of his trademark Texas grins break through. She smiled back.

"You could if you tried. These people don't judge." A group of three approached the bar. "Duty calls." She walked to the group of girls. Nick gulped his drink and turned to face the dance floor. A guy with green hair doing the robot, a small group of girls swaying mostly with the beat… No one who really caught his interest.

He faced the bar, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted her. She was tall, taller than Nick would normally go for. Her legs seemed to go on forever before they disappeared underneath a skirt that left nothing of her behind to the imagination. She wasn't bearing any cleavage, but a silky smooth black top with bunches in front made for small breasts, at least as far as his imagination would let him go.

Her shirt hugged her waist, and with that skirt on her hips-

Nick knew he was staring, but he couldn't help himself. What really caught him about her were her eyes. Intense, focused, dark and mysterious. She swayed her way over to the bar and slid into the barstool on the end.

Nick waved Alyssa over. "I'd like to buy her a drink." He motioned over at the girl who was absentmindedly playing with her cell phone.

"I'll ask what she wants," Alyssa replied. She walked to the end of the bar, and Nick's eyes were on her fingers. Long, slender, piano-playing fingers. He began to imagine what those fingers would feel like in his hand, down his chest, everywhere.

"She usually takes a whiskey sour." Nick jumped at the voice and faced Alyssa. "But she said she's done drinking for today." Nick looked disappointed and slumped his shoulders.

"Damn," he muttered. He looked over at her again and sighed.

"She also doesn't talk." Nick frowned and turned back toward Alyssa.

"Of course not. She's perfect." Alyssa handed him a small notebook and a pen. Nick looked at her curiously. Alyssa gave him a nudge.

"If she's so perfect, why don't you go talk to her? At least leave her your number if she's completely uninterested." Nick shook his head again.

"She can hear you, she just doesn't speak. Hey, if you don't hit it off with her, you never have to see her again. And if you do, well, then you do." Alyssa smiled. "Use that southern charm of yours and go win her over."

Nick made his way to the end of the bar and sat beside her. She raised her eyebrows and looked him up and down. "I'm Nick." He offered his hand, and she took it. Her skin was so smooth and her fingernails were clean and trimmed, but not painted. She shook it with all of the grace in the world.

"So…Come here often?" She raised an eyebrow and stared at him. Nick laughed aloud. "Yeah, okay, I guess that was pretty bad. I haven't had a lot of practice at this sort of thing." She picked up the pen and put it to the paper.

'No?' she wrote. Nick smiled again.

"No," he repeated aloud. She smiled. An honest smile. "What's your name?" She shook her head. "What? You're not gonna tell me? Why not?"

'I'm a secretive kind of person.'

Nick sighed. "I suppose there is lots of crime in Vegas. Nah, I don't blame you for not telling me your name. Especially when I used a line as stupid as 'come here often'." A grin broke out onto her face. She even has perfect teeth, thought Nick. He smiled his own smile. Something caught her attention and she pulled out her phone and flipped it open.

She sighed and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

'My ride is here. It was nice talking to you'

Nick looked and sighed too. "Alright," he said. She smiled and stood. Nick shook his head sadly. "Will I ever see you again?" She offered a shrug, and before he knew what hit him, she was gone.

Nick pulled out his keys and ran to the parking lot after her. No such luck. Nick climbed into his truck and drove home, completely forgetting why he had gone in the first place.