Title: Mafia Madhouse
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine and Mafia Madhouse doesn't exist as far as I know, but if it does, I mean no copyright infringement.
A/N: This story was the result of an offhand remark made by my husband while we were on a six-hour car trip. I got back at him for giving me a plot bunny by asking him a whole ton of questions about how online RPGs work. All expertise in this fic is courtesy him. As always, ShipperGirl was my most excellent beta. Everyone should give her watermelon Jolly Ranchers and New York Style cheesecake.

Sitting tied up in a car sinking to the bottom of Lake Mead wasn't quite how Sara had planned to spend her day off. She pressed a few more keys, but it was already too late. Her digital self had become the latest casualty in the online role-playing game she was participating in. Just as she'd resigned herself to the fact that she was dead and the user they had been trying to lure was not going to take the bait, a private message appeared on her screen from one Bugsy2.

"Need some help there, DancingDoll69?"

"Who is he talking to?" she asked Archie, who was helping her with this virtual undercover mission.

"Oh, that's you. Lemme get a screen capture of that message. It's the same opening message he sent to the two murder victims," Archie said as he pressed keys and saved files.

"My name is DancingDoll69? Could you have come up with something more stupid?" Sara asked rhetorically and a bit derisively.

"It got his attention, and that's what we want. Now, you need to reply to him so that we can see if his other messages match. The game moderator has agreed to step in and give us his account information if his messages mimic the messages found in the two women's chat logs closely enough. From there we can find his Internet Service Provider and track him down," Archie explained.

Despite the fact that it went against all her firmly held opinions about women being just as worthy as men, Sara attempted to play the simpering female long enough to lead this Bugsy2 person on.

After fifteen ever-more-excruciating minutes, another message appeared on her screen, this time in the blue italicized text that signaled a game moderator: "I've seen enough. This user's messages are just too close to the other logs you showed me. Please contact me at the number I gave you and I'll help get you his account information."

Sighing in relief that she wouldn't have to play such a stupid role any more, Sara swiveled away from the screen only to hear a muffled chuckle from behind her. Nick appeared to be having some difficulties with the idea of Sara as a helpless female.

Glaring at him, Sara asked, "Explain to me again why I had to do this?"

"Because, Sara, two women have been saved by this Bugsy2, struck up a conversation with him, come to Vegas, and ended up dead. Giving him another potential victim seemed like the best way to draw him out," Nick answered simply.

"But why couldn't you or Archie have played this horny male's wet dream game? You'd be better at it than I'll ever be."

"Women don't play video games the same way men do. He would've known if it was a man pretending to be a woman and wouldn't have approached," Nick explained fairly patiently in light of the fact that he'd told Sara this at least five times already.

"That may be true, but I really don't appreciate that I only had two career options in this little thing: waitress or showgirl. No, that's not stereotypical at all. You know, if I really had boobs as big as my little digital self did, I wouldn't have been able to stand upright, not to mention the fact that I could have used them as a flotation device to get myself out of that car without the help of 'Bugsy2,'" Sara finished in a decidedly frustrated tone.

Nick and Archie seemed to have decided that interrupting Sara's rant would be hazardous to their health, and with no reaction forthcoming from any of the males in the room, Sara heaved one last frustrated sigh and announced to no one in particular that she was going to see if Greg had the results from her home invasion case.

Walking down the hall, Sara continued to mutter about misogynistic video games and co-workers who didn't help the situation. When she reached the DNA lab, she was surprised to find Greg playing the same game she had just been playing.

"Greg, what are you doing?" Sara asked in a slightly startled voice.

"Oh, hi Sara," Greg said in his usual slightly hyperactive manner, "All the machines are doing their magic and don't need my help, so I'm playing this ultra cool game I just downloaded. It's called 'Mafia Madhouse' and lemme tell ya, the ladies in this game are hot. But, uh, not as hot as you, of course," he finished with a leer that Sara would have been offended by had it not been so comically overdone.

Despite the fact that Greg's antics almost never failed to make her smile, Sara merely made a noise of frustration and left his lab. She'd had enough of this crap for one day, especially since she should have been at home relaxing. Alright, so she probably would have been at the lab anyway, but it was the principle of the thing.

Grissom caught up with Sara while she was on her way to the locker room to get her things.

"Sara, what's going on? Do you have the results on the blood from the home invasion case?" he asked, then realized that his timing probably wasn't the best by the look on Sara's face.

"Go ask Mr. Mafia Madhouse in the DNA lab. I'm going home," Sara said angrily. She headed towards the locker room with renewed fervor, but a gentle hand on her forearm stopped her. She turned and looked at Grissom, daring him to say anything stupid. For once, he managed not to oblige.

"Sara," he began gently, "I appreciate you playing that game today. I know you don't like how women are portrayed in it. I don't either. Keep in mind, though, that your work today should help us find Bugsy2 so no more women die. Isn't the payoff worth the few minutes of wandering around like a digital Barbie doll?"

Sara nodded in reluctant acceptance and Grissom smiled slightly.

"Go home and relax. You've worked hard to help the case today," he said as he placed a hand on her shoulder to steer her towards the locker room.

Just as she was leaving the building a few minutes later, he called out to her, "Sara, if it makes you feel any better, imagine what would happen if someone actually tried to use the pick-up lines that are scripted in that game."

Sara thought about what he said, and he was right. The thought of what would happen if some poor pimply male actually said, 'If I told you that you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?' to a real live woman was hilarious.

Grissom watched as her smile slowly began to spread across her face. He was certain he could look forever at her smile – her beautiful, beautiful smile.