A/N: This is the first time I've ever written in this particular format, so I'd really appreciate constructive criticism. I figure that it's about time I start to branch out, so I'm experimenting with this one. This is written post-"Lying Down with Dogs," so Warrick is still on suspension and Sara has left, from the alternating POV of Sofia and Catherine.

Rating: T (for language)
Pairings: Hints of Grillows and SoNic, nothing outright (yet).
Disclaimer: I don't own it. Period.

I remember every single detail of that night. They say that when you go through something really traumatic, every detail starts to stand out. I guess we tend to continually revisit the event, trying desperately to make some sense of the chaos. I don't always place much stock in psychology-- I am a scientist at heart-- but sometimes even science doesn't really have a good explanation for the randomness of the human soul.

I remember it was raining. Unusual for that time of year. The wind was blowing pretty cold out of the north. Doesn't happen much in Las Vegas during the spring, but when it does even the most hardcore gamblers have the sense to get off the Strip. CSI had just finished another major case, and I felt like celebrating. Nick was wrapping up some things and said he'd meet me at the restaurant for some drinks and food. Naturally I went ahead.

The lights of the casinos danced off the raindrops on my car as I locked the door and rushed into the diner. I chuckled as I brushed the wet drops off my coat, my heart pounding from the strange adrenaline rush I got from beating the rain to the door.

"Crappy night out there, huh?"

I looked up to see the waitress grinning at me, and I smiled back as I pushed a damp strand of hair out of my eyes. "Something like that. Got anything to warm me up?"

She laughed. "Sure, honey. We got a fresh pot of coffee brewing in the back."

"Coffee sounds wonderful."

The waitress showed me to a booth and handed me a menu. I perused it for a couple of minutes, trying to find something that sounded good at two o'clock in the morning. Somehow a large greasy cheeseburger just wasn't very appetizing. Nick, on the other hand, might think that was wonderful. That's when I started to feel like something just wasn't right.

You know how sometimes you can just feel someone's eyes on you? I got that kind of prickly sensation on the back of my neck, like someone was just staring at me. I know I'm a pretty good-looking woman; I'm used to being stared at. Normally I just laugh it off and go back to whatever I'm doing. But this time... this time I got a knot in the pit of my stomach.

There was no one else in the diner. The waitress had gone back to the kitchen, presumably to get the coffee. I tried to settle back into the soft cushion of the booth and told myself I was being an idiot. "You're perfectly fine," I firmly told my twisting insides. "You're a cop. No one's gonna hurt you."

I set down my menu and glanced out the window to see if Nick had finally shown up. That's when I saw the eyes. A pair of ice blue eyes leered at me through the window, sending shivers through my spine. They were a cold set of eyes. There was no lust, no love, no admiration... just malice. I've been a cop long enough to know when someone is just plain evil. These eyes were devoid of any kind of emotion. No coffee would warm me up now. All I could see- and still can see- are those eyes.

Hastily I slid out from the booth, pulling my phone from my pocket as I ran out the door into the pouring rain. I dialed Nick's number, praying that he would pick up his phone for once. It rang a couple of times. "C'mon, dammit," I muttered, fighting my way to my car.

"Stokes," he finally answered.

"Nick, I-" I never got to finish. Someone grabbed my hair, and another hand with a cloth roughly grabbed my face. I dropped the phone and tried to kick him in the shins or anything I could reach, but I could smell the chloroform already. I raked my fingers across his face, and my heart jumped with satisfaction when I heard his howl of pain and frustration. The lights of the casinos across the street started to get a little blurry, and my head ached like crazy. I tried to struggle some more, but I could feel my body succumbing to the drug. Finally, everything went black.

That night. Oh, man, that night. You would think that after everything that had happened to our lab in the past year-- Sara getting kidnapped and then quitting, Warrick's brush with the wrong side of the law-- we'd be used to catastrophes. Maybe it was because all of that had happened so soon that we were so traumatized. There comes a point when the human mind can't take any more problems. I think we had reached that a long time before what happened to Sofia.

I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw Nick's face. He had this horrified, worried, stricken look plastered all over his face. His mouth drooped, his eyes narrowed, his brow crinkled. I hadn't seen him look that worried since... well, since Sara.

"Sofia," he said into the phone. "Sofia, are you there?" His voice raised an octave every time he said her name.

"Nick, what's wrong?" I asked, worried because he was worried. Nick doesn't get worried like that.

He shrugged his muscular shoulders. "Sofia, are you there?"

"What happened?"

He slammed his phone shut in frustration and grabbed his jacket. "Something bad."

"What?"

"I don't know. It sounded like she's in trouble." He shoved one arm into his jacket sleeve. "She said she was going to wait for me at the diner."

I sighed. Damn these chivalrous gentlemen. "Right. I'm coming with you."

Nick looked at me with those eyes of his. "Catherine, you don't have-"

"She's one of us, Nick." I reached into my locker and grabbed my own jacket. "I'm coming."

The ride in Nick's truck from the lab was unusually quiet. Rain still pounded on the windshield, the wipers keeping a steady time. I risked a glance at Nick. He was focused on the road, driving as fast as he could without risking hydroplaning on the wet road. His brow was furrowed, showing just how worried he really was.

Part of me wanted to grin like a little girl who just found out a big secret. I had been waiting for the two of them to get something going. The fact that he was so worried about her could have meant something. But there was no way in hell I was going to say anything at that point. Nicky would have bitten my head off.

Nick pulled out his phone again and hit redial. He waited as it rang, jaw clenched tightly in frustration. "This is Detective Sofia Curtis..." He slammed it shut again as he reached her voicemail.

"She's going to be okay, Nicky," I whispered hesitantly, not really sure if I wanted to say something.

"Yeah." It was all he said. He quickly glanced at me and gave me a wan smile, as if to reassure me that he was trying to believe me.

Nick pulled into the diner's parking lot and swiftly turned off the car. If it wasn't such a serious situation, I would have laughed hysterically at the sight of him nearly falling out of the car in his haste to get out. I just bit my cheek and held it in as he rushed into the diner.

He dashed out of the diner a couple of minutes later. "The waitress said she came in and then disappeared. She was in the back getting coffee." He practically spat out the word.

I quickly glanced around the parking lot. "Her car's still here. She didn't go anywhere alone." I ignored his low humph. "She's either around here somewhere or..." I stopped when he glared at me. I didn't really want to finish the sentence either. I pulled my flashlight out of my pocket and turned it on, and Nick quickly followed my lead.

I made my way toward Sofia's car from where Nick's car sat, scanning the pavement for anything that could give us any sort of clue as to what happened to her.

"Hey, Cath."

I hurried over to where he stood and shined my flashlight on the ground. It was a cell phone… that looked strangely like Sofia's phone.

"It's Sofia's," Nick said quietly. "She wouldn't leave that behind willingly."

I moved my flashlight over and spotted a white cloth lying about two feet away from it. Taking a glove out of my vest pocket, I squatted down and gently picked it up. I brought it close to my face and sniffed. "Chloroform," I said quietly as I looked up at Nick.

He gritted his teeth and picked up her phone with a gloved hand. "We should call Brass. This is a crime scene."

Well, what did you think? Reviews equal updates, as long as I can keep up with my school work. Thanks!