Disclaimer: If it looks CSI related, sounds CSI related, and reads CSI related…well, then it probably is. If it doesn't, it's probably mine.

It wasn't often that Nick lost his temper, but he'd managed to restrain himself until he reached his apartment, instead releasing the hurt and anger into the wall beside his front door.

"Damnit, Catherine! You should have trusted us!" he growled, turning to throw his keys onto a table and grab the mail beside it.

He'd thought they were a family and it hurt him to the core that Catherine would go so far as to stage a crime scene so that they would believe the lie. He couldn't believe that she hadn't trusted them, her team.

Nick growled again in anger as he ripped open his refrigerator and nabbed a beer from the top shelf. Popping off the cap, he sunk gratefully into the worn leather of his couch and tossed the mail onto the coffee table in front of him. There was nothing a good football game and beer couldn't cure...or at least drive out of his mind for a good amount of time. Unfortunately, the football gods were not on his side today either and after grimacing at both the score and the quarterback as he fumbled the snap, he pulled the forgotten mail into his lap and slid his finger under the lip of the envelope, lifting it open.

"Bills. I hate bills," Nick muttered, setting aside both the water and credit card bills that had chosen that day to grace his mail stack. A few more credit card offers got tossed in a separate pile before his eyes landed on the somewhat messily handwritten address on a standard envelope.

Nicky Stokes

324 Sunset Ridge, Apt. 1900A

Las Vegas, Nevada 89103

A bit of a smile curved his lips as he recognized the scrawl that belonged to the only person who would actually address a letter with "Nicky" instead of "Nick." Alasen Caufield had been a college friend of his and one of the few girls he'd known back then that wasn't in a sorority. It had been both her caustic wit and insistance that he hang out with some of the "GDIs" that had most likely prevented him from enjoying his fraternity as thoroughly as some of his brothers. She had also been a welcome vacation from his girly sisters as she had been more at home in athletic shorts and a tshirt out playing touch football than exclaiming over the latest mixer t-shirt design and who she was going to nab for the next Date Dash. Unfortunately, much of her time had also been spent making sure that he did not grow an ego comparable to some of the other guys on campus, hence the little devil tail that graced the "y" of "Nicky."

Nicky, Nicky, Nicky…

I think there's a very good reason that the Adam Sandler devil's son movie was called Little Nicky, don't you? I hope everything in hot Vegas is treating you right and beating down that ego of yours on a daily basis since I'm not there to do it for you. I know I haven't been in touch much, but in my defense, neither have you. I heard about you on the news though…damn near jumped on a plane to come visit you, but I figured you didn't need anyone else hovering over you at the time.

I'm still working in the hospital in the ER. I've been pondering a transfer into Trauma Surgery though. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff that comes through here…well, you would given your job, but still. Every time we have a CSI come in, I think of you. Too bad you're not out here in sunny San Diego, I hear they have some job openings for scrawny little level 3's like yourself. But then again, we have water here, you might drown ;-).

At any rate, I miss my flag football qb! Ours sucks right now. I'm pretty sure we've got the worst record in the hospital league—those orderlies are kicking ass, man. You should come visit though, get out of the insanity that is LV and enjoy the summer breezes down here.

-Als

Even with his bad mood, Nick couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips after reading the letter. It was classic Al to the point that he could imagine her writing it, looking exactly as she had back in college, but in scrubs instead of athletic gear, her hair pulled back into her usual sporty ponytail. Alasen was nothing if not consistent. He was scanning the almost illegible writing a second time when he felt his cell phone go off. A quick glance identified the caller as Catherine, probably calling to try to get him to talk after he stalked out on Warrick this morning following shift. Nick took a deep draft from his beer and considered the vibrating phone for a moment before pushing the button to silent the call. Catherine would leave the dutifully concerned message on his voicemail, but he'd be free to ignore it until work tomorrow. Although…he scanned the end of the letter again, noting the vague invitation for a visit…after the betrayal by both Brass and Catherine, he wasn't exactly excited about facing them at work the next day or any following it. Nick prided himself on knowing his friends and trusting them to a fault, so it cut him particularly deeply that the two had conspired to lie to the rest of the team. That wasn't something that he could brush off as easily as Warrick or Greg, or even Sara.

Picking up his cell phone, he flipped through his contacts until he reached the one he wanted.

"Hey Al, it's Nicky. I got your letter today and…"