A/N: This is the first chapter of roughly a 4 or 5 chapter fic that is based on the song Dance Halls Turned To Ghost Towns by The Audition. This is the first fic posted under my new penname because I am told that my alerts aren't showing up which is angering because I have actually posted about 4 things that my friend, Eleen, claims not to have gotten the alerts for. So I am trying a new penname. You may know me as Ever Charming Aspen or even Dracoaspen, but from now on I will be Aspen At Twilight. As well, Sandle rules.
Would You Please Take Off Your Lab Coat
"The fibers found on the carpet in the upstairs bedroom were a mixture of cotton and spandex." Nick declared as he walked down the hall between Sara and Catherine, reviewing the latest results on evidence from a murder they were working up in Laughlin.
"Great, so they could've come from any t-shirt that was ever sold in Vegas." Catherine deadpanned, annoyed at the results. Why fibers couldn't come back some rare, exotic mix that was only sold at one place for a change instead of a common blend that was sold virtually everywhere, she'd never know.
"Not just any t-shirt." Nick put in.
Catherine raised her eyebrows, thinking things were finally looking up for their case.
"A blue shirt."
She rolled her eyes, "Oh, yes, that just helps us out so much."
"Those partials from the diazepam bottle that I sent to the print lab? No hits on AFIS." Sara added reluctantly, not wanting to put an even bigger damper on her blonde comrade.
"Hmm, first time offender." Nick muttered, staring at something down the hall. "They're always fun to deal with."
"I like the ones with records myself." Catherine noted.
"Why?"
"Because they are in the database."
Wanting to get away from the possible upcoming wrath of his co-worker, Nick stopped and said "I'm going down to the morgue to see if Doc Robbins has started the autopsy yet."
"I'll come with you," Catherine volunteered, turning to face Nick.
"Oh, you don't need to do that." Nick tried, knowing that if Doctor Robbins had nothing pertinent to tell, the woman would probably blow a gasket.
"No, I want to. I'm free for awhile."
"Well, while you two go to the morgue, I'll take a trip down to DNA and see if Greg got the results back on that bloody fingerprint we found on the closet door and the hairs from the bed spread." Sara stated.
"So it's settled. Come on, Nicky, let's go visit Doc."
Sara laughed to herself as Catherine turned Nick around and marched him in the opposite direction, the final look of terror on his face, priceless.
Their mindless walking taking them a good piece across the lab, Sara didn't have to go far to reach DNA. She strolled in only to find it empty.
Hmm, that's weird… She thought. Greg never leaves the lab unless he's on break and he took that earlier.
Deciding that he probably wouldn't be long, she chose to stick around. The lab was eerily empty without the presence of her spiky-haired friend, dancing around while placing slides under microscopes or banging his head to heavy metal while working on blood samples.
The room itself gave her a small comfort. It may have held stacks of CDs and the odd picture of him and his friends, but none of the anomalies contained in glass prisons or complete books on the eating habits of the African Hercules Beetle like Grissom's office did. Yes, Greg kept his personal effects to a minimal in physical objects and let them flow out further through his quirky character; that was just one of the things Sara loved about him.
Thinking that her favorite lab tech may be out longer than she speculated, she started wandering aimlessly around the room. She smiled as the screensaver on his computer popped up, adorning a picture of them embracing in joy. She recognized the picture as one that Warrick had taken at the Annual Police Relay last month, right after she finished her leg of the race.
She sighed happily at the memory then quickly moved on in her survey of the room.
She got about two steps away from the computer desk when a flash of black and green caught her eye. There, sitting beside the keyboard was a slightly battered copy of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde. Her eyes bored into the title, looming like a bright green glow over the ebony background, the letter tails being hidden by a menacing syringe, the needle tip gleaming against the glossy cover. Sara never took Greg for much of a reader, but he did claim to reading The Tell Tale Heart because of the prospect of a man murdering someone and hiding the heart under his floorboards. She swiftly resolved that he liked it for the science aspect and nothing more.
Continuing her trek, she roamed her way across the room to a bunch of shelves and cabinets. Chemicals upon chemicals lined the cabinets while textbooks crept along the shelves; each and everyone having to do with something related to DNA. The odd one out, however, was the one that drew her attention.
On the third shelf, the second one from the right was a leather bound book, the title running down the spine in faded gold lettering: Webster's Dictionary.
Webster's? She thought to herself, checking the title once more to make sure that she had indeed read it correctly. That couldn't be right. Webster's isn't that old… She ran a hand over the taut leather binding, before grasping it and pulling it out of place.
As soon as it left the shelf, there was a cracking sound, and the wall swung back, revealing a long passageway, leading down through darkened catacombs.
"What in the name of God…" Sara trailed off as she stared down the scarcely lit tunnel.
She took a glimpse at the book in her hand, considering the fact that is most likely triggered the spinning of what had been a solid wall. Sara knew there was something ominous about that book, she had known that Webster's wasn't old enough to be bound in leather, the only books like that for the past few decades had been Bibles.
'This is where the chemicals grow…' The words whistled towards her in a chilly breeze, lifting her hair and rustling papers throughout the room.
Wind, inside? She thought, clearly confused at everything that was happening. It's impossible…
Another burst of wind floated through the lab, once again carrying with it silent words that made Sara's skin tingle and her body go frigid in glacial trepidation.
'This is where reactions flow…'
Was she imagining things, or were there really messages about science and chemicals rushing out of the cavern ahead?
Against her better judgment, she strode forward, letting herself be engulfed by the darkness. As soon as she stepped into the bleak passage, sconces lined across the seasoned stone walls burst into flames, their firelight casting a warm, ethereal glow over the tunnel. Multicolored liquid ran through cracks and holes in the cobblestones. Sara contained her surprise, resolving to keep her head about her and continue on down the drifting walkway.
She didn't get far when she heard a low grinding noise, growing louder as the sound floated upwards. She shifted her gaze downward and took a few steps back when the reef of stones beneath her feet began swiveling and disappearing into the ground, only to be replaced by a coat rack shooting up moments later, each hook containing a lab coat; beside it, a small stool encompassing a piece of what appeared to be parchment and a single candle burning on top.
Leaning over, Sara noticed that the parchment accommodated only two words, flowing across the sheet in handsome, curvaceous writing: 'Take One'.
Thinking that the request was referring to the lab coats, she set the book she had taken in with her down on the stool and removed one of the many lab coats from a hook, swiftly slipping it on over her jeans and sweater.
Once she was embellished in the stark white layer, the arbor sundered back down into the ground, the stones replacing it once more. When she went to pick up the book again, she was surprised to see that the title on the front was different than the one on the spine: 'Webster's Dictionary Chemical Cookbook.'
Wondering why she hadn't noticed it earlier, and her curiosity growing to a towering level, she gently lifted back the cover and started flipping gently through the delicate, yellowing pages. Each page looked as if the script had been hand written on instead of printed as a book of mass production, the graceful lettering hooking together with similar curves and hooks on capitals.
Page after page, she stared on in astonishment as the entries became lengthier and more complex, each looking more like a recipe than the last; the only thing wavering her from the idea of the memorandums being formulas for actual products were the ingredients. How could you add satire or charisma to a compound? It was impossible.
Unless… Her mind trailed off, getting ideas that her brain attempted to toss in the gutter. Sorcery, witch craft, mysticism, alchemy perhaps? She shook her head, tying to jumble her ludicrous thoughts; Greg would never have a book like that in his lab.
She slammed the book shut with such force that the candle beside it flickered wildly, a tiny slip of parchment falling from it's pages fluttered to the floor. Taking no notice to this small occurrence, Sara snapped up the book and strolled off down the hall.
The note had landed, script side up, the letters dancing in the bright light of the flames. 'The Dictionary Chemical Cookbook was meant to hook you into me'.