Well, hello everyone! Been a while! First up, this short is about Naomi. It's featured in the Trauma Team timeline. Nothing canonical, of course. Pure fiction right here. Though, this would be crazy sad.

These fics take no course of a timeline... nor am I doing them in any particular order. I'm posting theme number 80 first. lol. I hope you enjoy. :)


The ringtone would go off. That was how she could tell if it was actually a call. If the music didn't play, then...

The familiar vibrations would chill her to the bone. But it had become such a regular occurrence that it was starting not to bother her anymore. Being around the dead for so long could make a person cold. Desensitized. Though, she still sympathized somewhat with the victims and their families.

Who had the right to cut someone's life short? What kind of person could sever that all important thread? Figuring out the truth was why she was in forensics. Telling the stories of the dead was her job. If she didn't speak for them… who would? No one. The dead told no tales. The truth never died.

Ringtone. It was Little Guy. He was on his way. He wanted to speak with her directly. She rolled her eyes, why this couldn't be done over the phone was beyond her. He didn't want to tie up her line. Who called her other than the- …oh. That must have been it. She frowned.

She waited, clutching her silver phone tightly in her fist as she sat in silence at her desk.

A knock. Little Guy. Just as he stepped into the room and took a seat, the ominous vibrating began. No ringtone. Little Guy merely stared.

"You going to pick that up…?" he asked, idly playing with the pen in his hands. Reluctantly, she flipped open her phone and waited for the words.

For the first time in months, the words made her blood run cold.

"Oh god. It hurts. It's broken. T-This isn't good… I can't move. I've got… I've got nowhere to run. They're going to find me." a pause, she knew this voice. The owner of this voice had gone missing two weeks prior. There was a bit of breathless rambling. A gunshot. A cry of agony. "Angie, I'm sorry. I tried… I couldn't make it back to you…"

Static. The call had ended, her case had just begun.

She closed her phone. Little Guy waited patiently.

"…Who are we investigating…?" she asked, glaring in his general direction.

"We found the body of Derek Stiles in a ditch outside of Northridge. He was murdered." Little Guy's response was quiet. He could feel the room become tense.

"…That's why you came here. To tell me in person? His body is in the evidence room, yes?" The blonde nodded silently. She made her way into the room, Little Guy in tow. She stared at the surgeon's lifeless, broken body.

Silence. She slipped on her gloves.

"Dr. Kimishima, I'll leave the details on your desk. Witness accounts are on the recorder." He slipped out of the room. Glancing down at the body, she sighed deeply.

"Derek Stiles, show me how your flame was put out."