-1This popped into my head one night. I had to write it out...At 12:30 in the morning. sweatdrop nn"

Nick was driving home from the lab. He had a hard day at work, today. Everything seemed to be going wrong. Some evidence that he had gathered from a homicide uptown had gotten contaminated, and he'd had to go all the way back to the crime scene by himself to remedy his mistake. Then the evidence that he re-gathered had gotten misplaced by someone in the lab. It wasn't his fault that time, but it kept him from going home at a decent hour because he'd had to wait for it to be found in order to finish his paperwork.

It was nearly four in the morning before he was let off. All that stress had left him a bit twitchy, and he wanted to get some comfort food to help lull him to sleep. Cheap and fattening, preferably. He wasn't patient enough to try and drive around Las Vegas to see what food establishments were open. Contrary to popular belief, Las Vegas did go to sleep, occasionally.

I pulled up to a 7 Eleven, and got out. He grabbed bags of chips, pastries, he got a hot dog, and he got a diet Pepsi. Hell, it didn't have caffeine, he wasn't trying to watch his figure, or anything like that. I dumped it all on the counter and waited for the clerk to ring him up. He'd bought nearly fifteen dollars worth of junk. That number pleased him. The clerk bagged it and he got the bag and to it out to his car, and that's when he heard it.

At first he thought that it was some cat fooling around in the garage, he couldn't really see into the alley. A light that should have been there must have burned out, or gotten busted. He shrugged and was about to get into his car when he heard a muffled scream.

Nick slowly reached into his car and got his gun. He quietly closed the door. He took the safety off of his gun and made his way into the darkened alley. The further he got, the less light shown into the alley from the convenience store, and the less he could see, but his eyes soon adjusted.

He was nearly on the source of the sound when something scuttled past against his let. He almost yelled. He looked behind him. Dumb, lucky cat. He'd almost lost one of his nine lives, right now. Nick couldn't believe that he was about to get all NYPD Blue on a cat.

Nick sighed and turned to leave the alley.

"Please, someone help me!"

The sound of flesh striking flesh could beard. "Shut the fuck up, bitch!" Nick could heard sounds of a struggle.

Nick knew it was kind of stupid to do it because he didn't know if the other guy had a gun, or if this was some kind of trap, but he did it anyway.

"Freeze! LVPD!" He lied. It wasn't like he could yell that he was a CSI. Most people didn't even know what it was. The pros and cons of being in the background.

The sounds of struggle stopped, and Nick heard a curse. Nick was about to come forward, to save whomever it was that needed saving when a body collided with his, knocking him to the ground. He quickly pushed the person off of him and trained his gun on whomever just ran into him. Nick's eyes widened. It looked to be the victim, who huddled away from Nick as far as he could go before his back hit the wall. If this was the potential victim, then that must mean-

BAM!

The guy seemed to come out of nowhere. He punched Nick in the stomach and winded him. The guy went for Nick's gun. Nick moved the gun out of his reach, hauled back, and kicked the guy in the chest. The guy went down and hit his head on a dumpster, out cold. Nick stared at him for a long time, making sure that he was really out for the count before he went over to the victim.

"Hey, are you okay?" Nick asked. He tried to get a good look at him. The guy couldn't have been more than eighteen. He still had all of his clothes on, but they were torn and filthy.

The guy seemed to jerk away form the sound of his voice. Nick wanted to touch his shoulder to reassure him, but he knew that trying to initiate physical contact with a rape victim, even a near victim, wasn't wise. "Please don't hurt me." A weak voice said.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm hear to help you." Nick said, but the other man didn't seem to be listening. He scurried away from Nick and tried to make a run for it. There was something odd about the way he ran, like he couldn't decide which way he was going, or which way was up. Was it possible that he has been drugged?

Before the guy even made it to the end of the alleyway, he fell, tripping over something that was obviously in his way. Nick ran over to help him up. He grabbed his arm and tried to pull him up. Big mistake. Nick was assaulted be a barrage of punches and kicks. Some directed at his face, some at his chest, stomach, legs, and shins, anywhere that was accessible, really.

Nick managed to grab the young man by his arms and pin him against the wall. It was either touch him now, or get kicked where it would really hurt. He could already feel his jaw swelling. The guy packed a punch. At least in the hits he'd landed.

"Look, damn it, I'm not trying to hurt you! I'm a CSI. I work with the LVPD. I'm trying to help you!" Nick panted, not quite recovered from the first punch to the gut he'd gotten, let alone what the this guy just dished out.

The guy whimpered and shook in his arms. "I don't believe you! You're probably trying to trick me like he did!"

"I'm not. See for yourself." Nick reached into his back pocket, keeping a firm grip, and removed his wallet. He held up his CSI issue ID. The man just stared off into the distance, somewhere slightly over Nick's shoulder. It was pretty dark, but he could tell that much. Nick frowned. He put his walled but into his pocket and stared at the other man for a moment. He waved his hand in front of the man's face. The man didn't blink, but he jerked away from the presence of Nick's hand in front of his face. It dawned on him.

"Oh, my God. Are you blind?" Nick asked.

The man looked as if he was trying to decide whether or not he was going to answer. "Yes, I am."