Beneath The Desert Moon
Nick/Greg AU Story. Characters not mine. Dedicated to my best friend for writing the fic that I cannot possibly ever hope to beat and also, accidently spawned this one... Read and review, please!
Chapter 1:
Beautiful citrine colored eyes scanned the length of the crowded street before him. He was in unfamiliar territory, having never experienced the hustle and bustle of Sin City. It was his new home, he'd have to get used to it, he sighed. His body pulsed, strengthening itself as he ducked out of the alley, the lifeless corpse of his victim left behind, the blood of his prey running through his veins.
He truly hated what he'd become. He was a monster, taking the lives of innocent people to feed the beast within him. The cruel irony that he was here to work at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, catching criminals just like him.
"Grissom, we have anything good tonight?" CSI Level 2 Warrick Brown questioned, stepping into the almost deserted break room.
The lead criminalist on the night shift sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Catherine Willows stood beside him, reading the case file over his shoulder. "A young woman was found in an alley off of the Strip." he said, handing the manila folder to the younger man. "But, we have another order of business before we start on that."
Warrick slid into the chair across from Grissom, watching as Greg Sanders the newest lab rat slipped into the room, pouring himself some of the sludge that tried to pass itself off as caffeine. "Hey, Sanders, pull up a chair. Spill it, Gris."
The salt and pepper haired CSI gestured to man hidden in shadows in the corner of the room. "This is Nick Stokes, he transferred in from Dallas PD. He's starting here tonight. Nick, you've met Catherine already. This is Warrick Brown, and our favorite lab tech, Greg Sanders."
The latter shifted on his feet, staring at Grissom as if he'd just grown an extra head. "You flatter me, Gris…" Greg smirked, turning to Nick. "Nice to meet you. Oh, and word of advice: Don't let Grissom get a hold of your blood."
"Noted." Nick replied, his eyes delving into the other's mocha colored ones. He briefly wondered if the younger man, who barely looked to be out of his teens, knew his secret. That thought quickly dismissed when Warrick spoke again.
"Yeah, it's some odd form of CSI hazing. Only Grissom can understand it. Unless you have a taste for chocolate covered grasshoppers, I'd avoid his office." The man smiled, tossing his empty Starbucks cup into the trashcan on the other side of the room.
The older man cleared his throat. "Enough chatter, get out there and catch the bad guy." He shooed them out of the room, sending Greg back to his lab.
"So, have you met the new CSI yet?" Archie Johnson, the A/V Tech, poked his head into the DNA lab.
"Stokes? Yeah, seems like a nice guy…" Greg commented, not even glancing up from the samples he was running. "Kinda mysterious, though."
Archie shrugged, "I heard they ran him out of Dallas. They thought he killed someone."
"Yes, I'm sure. Like the LVPD would hire a murder suspect." Greg rolled his eyes at the idiotic rumor floating around, hoping that Nick wouldn't have to hear it. The rumors about himself had finally stopped. They always erupted when new employees started. And they were always ridiculous, Hodges was usually the instigator of those. "Tell David to think his gossip through before spreading it."
"PMS-ing, are we, Greg?" Archie teased before turning away.
Glaring, Greg shook his head. "Hey, Arch!" The younger man looked back in time to see the lab rat flip him off.
"Hilarious."
"You done this before, man?" Warrick questioned, kneeling beside the body, as close as he could get until the Coroner showed up.
Nick surveyed the scene, once again thrilled with the irony of having to process his own crime scene. He'd killed that girl… "Yeah, I was a cop in Texas for three years before I tried the forensics angle. Had some issues with my family and needed to get the hell out of there."
The older man nodded. "That's a shame. I'm gonna take a not-so-wild guess and say you're a die hard Cowboys fan?"
"How did you figure that out?" Nick laughed, watching as the Coroner's van pulled up. "I guarantee you they'll wipe the floor with the Ravens this week. They'll get slaughtered."
"I'll take that bet." Warrick nodded. "Twenty?"
The Texan sighed. "Why not?"
"You got yourself a deal."
David Phillips kneeled down next to the body, ending the conversation.
"Who's this?" the assistant coroner asked, eyeing the new face.
Warrick clapped his new betting partner on the back. "This is Nick Stokes, he just transferred in. Nick, this is David. He's cool."
David smiled, before returning his attention to checking the victim's liver temp. "Your TOD was about four hours ago. Rigor's just setting in." He commented, before checking the pockets of the woman's jacket. "No purse, no ID."
Nick nodded, though he already knew that. He'd been doing this long enough to know how to hide his secret and what it required him to do. "Cause of death?"
He titled the woman's head to the side revealing two fang marks on her neck. "I think those are superficial, there's no sign of bruising around the marks, maybe a stray dog or something that came around post mortem. I'll be able to tell you more after the autopsy." David said, covering the victim with a white sheet after the two CSI's were satisfied.
"Thanks, Super-Dave." Warrick sighed, watching him take the body away. "Well, I think we covered everything here, we should head back to the lab now. Dump the vics DNA on Sanders, see if he can make an ID for us."
"Sounds like a plan." Nick agreed.
