Title: First Impressions
Rating: PG-PG 13
Characters: Speed, Calleigh
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, because obviously, I'm not stinking rich...yet.
Summary: It's Calleigh's first day at MDPD and her mother always taught her that first impressions are everything. Will she take this to heart when encountering one of her first colleagues?
Spoilers: None, unless you haven't seen season one.
A/N: This was a challenge that LLK gave to me as I need to get back on the writing bandwagon. 'Cause I keep falling off.
Criteria: First meeting between two characters/ A balloon animal/ Absolut Vodka.
First Impressions
"Thanks Mom, I think I'll be fine," Calleigh Duquesne replied over the phone in a soft laugh. Her mother wasn't much of an authority figure in her life, but she did make the effort to pass on what she knew. In this case, Calleigh was starting her new job at the Miami Dade Crime Lab. It was an opportunity she never imagined she'd have and she was thoroughly excited about it, calling her friends and family to let them in on the jubilee.
"Just remember, first impressions are everything," her mother told her as Calleigh snatched for her keys, stumbling back to the kitchen.
"Right. Look, can I call you back tonight? Being late for my first day isn't exactly the impression I want to make," she retorted, still excited but anxious to get her mother off the phone.
They said their goodbyes and the zealous new CSI hurriedly checked herself in the mirror, straightening out her long blonde hair and picking off tiny pieces of lint from her dark long-sleeved v-neck shirt. She wasn't quite assured of the dress code so she chose something conservative but breathable in the Miami climate.
Finally, she trotted out the door to the yellow Jeep sitting in the driveway. She was about to place the key into the door when she smelled something. Something smoky. Calleigh raised her head and peered at the house just in time to see black smoke secreting from underneath the crack of the bright yellow door. Wide-eyed, she ran back inside to a kitchen clouded in black film. She had left the stove on and a kitchen cloth was smoldering on top of it.
As soon as the fire was out, she leaned against the stove and sighed.
"Here's to hopin' I don't burn down the entire lab."
With a clunk of the Jeep door, Calleigh equipped herself for the day. The outside of the Crime Lab was striking. Large palm trees laced the area and green grass emanated from all sides, trimmed to perfection with an array of assorted indigenous bushes hugging the clean, outwardly pointed beige walls of the edifice. Calleigh stepped onto the paved walk and made her way to the front door. She was intimidated by the architecture of the compound which almost seemed to say she didn't belong there. Time would tell, she thought to herself.
The first few minutes of her orientation with a mixture staff members went smoothly. They were courteous, responsive and overall accepting of her. Calleigh started to feel as if everyone received some sort of memo regarding her arrival. This isn't so bad. So far so good! she said in her mind as she found her way down the long dark halls of the lab. She hadn't been met with any sort of ritual hazing or sexist remarks of which she had previously gone through during her stint on patrol. She reveled in the professional, cool, atmosphere around her.
Once she had entered the locker room, she opened the palm of her hand. It revealed the number 22-- the locker to which she was appointed. Calleigh opened it delicately and scrutinized the interior. It was hollow, dark and everything one would expect from a locker. In a way, it almost reminded her of high school minus the spit balls and graffiti.
Without warning, the sharp sound of a slammed locker door splintered through her ears, startling her. She turned her head to the offensive noise, realizing that she wasn't alone. A tall, slender man wearing an over-sized dress shirt and jeans was fixed but a few feet from her, leaning into his locker--which had been opened, not shut like Calleigh had previously thought. He didn't look well and she was determined to find out what the problem was, if any.
"Excuse me?" she asked as she appeared in front of him, curiosity stricken throughout her expression. "Are you alright?"
The man elevated his inflamed eyes to her with a glare but didn't answer.
Well, this is going well. She then smiled and extended her hand in address. "Calleigh Duquesne," she exclaimed in her up-beat southern drawl.
Aggravation appearing all over the mystery man's face, Calleigh wondered at that moment whether he was a police officer or a criminal running from one. However, she noted the badge at his side and relaxed a little more. Maybe he was just having a bad morning.
The man grudgingly accepted her hand and firmly shook it. "Tim Speedle. Most people just call me Speed though."
Calleigh beamed in response and released her hand from his. After a moment of smiling and staring, she realized the situation was rather awkward. He didn't counter the same way as everyone else and it worried her. Most people welcomed her friendliness but he still looked irritated. Had she said something wrong?
"So I'm new here, as you may have found out," Calleigh started, attempting to silence the awkwardness.
He shrugged. "Why, was there some kind of memo?"
Evidently not, she thought to herself. Every inch of her being was telling her to just walk away and let him be but she was bewildered at his rudeness and determined to figure him out. She then noticed a bottle above his head inside the locker when he reached up to grab his service pistol. Absolut Vodka. An alcoholic cop. I knew it.
"That's kind of obvious you know," Calleigh stated as she gestured toward the bottle.
Speed squinted slightly and peered up to his locker, observing the almost empty bottle of Vodka.
"What, that?" he asked.
Calleigh nodded, lifting a brow of disapproval.
"It was Megan's birthday yesterday and the party was at the lab," he explained groggily.
"And you drank that entire bottle by yourself?" Calleigh probed, not believing his story for one second. She'd heard many justifications over the years from her father and one more from someone she'd just met wasn't going to convince her. Especially bearing in mind his attitude.
"No, I drank beer. That bottle belongs to Laura. I took it away from her," he explained gently -- though mostly sounding annoyed -- in short, concise sentences indicative of the probable pounding happening throughout his skull.
"Then explain that," Calleigh answered, pointing to a condom blown into the shape of some twisted farm animal. Maybe this lab isn't as professional as I thought.
Speed sighed angrily and leaned his head against the door of the locker. "Damnit Laura."
Calleigh had no idea who this 'Laura' was but she wasn't sure she wanted to find out either. And she wasn't sure why he kept blaming the mystery woman if all the evidence was in his locker.
"Must have been one crazy party," Calleigh quipped, a small smirk stemming from the corners of her lips. However she did so for his benefit, not that she believed him any.
Tim nodded and closed his locker, placing the firearm he had obtained into its holster.
"You're on dayshift?" he asked, trying to ignore the firecrackers and jackhammers inside his head.
"Yep. You?" she replied, following him out of the locker room.
"Yeah."
Great, I'm working with an alcoholic, lying womanizing pig, Calleigh thought to herself. As she sauntered toward the door, Speedle paced ahead of her and opened it, holding it for her. She questioned him with her eyes but walked through the corridor.
Speed grabbed a manila folder from the Trace Lab desk before bounding up the stairs. He then stopped and turned to the blonde bombshell before him.
"Why are you following me?" he asked, confused.
"This is the way to Megan Donner's office, right?"
"No, this is the way to Horatio's office."
Calleigh perked up. "Oh! Horatio Caine, I've heard of him. He's on the bomb squad, right?"
"He's transferring here tomorrow. Megan's office is down that hallway," he explained, pointing straight ahead. "But she's on leave tomorrow so you might have better luck getting a briefing from me."
Perplexed, Calleigh crossed her arms. "You're in charge? Why didn't you just say so?"
A smirk appeared on man's stubbled face. "You didn't ask."
Calleigh released her arms and sighed.
"And I'm not really 'in charge'. Megan's still here but she's busy with the paperwork," he explained as he handed her the folder. "If you want, you could take this to her. I was going to head there when I'd finished upstairs."
"What is it?" Calleigh asked inquisitively.
"Case file. We got a call this morning, a child was found under a park bench... stuffed in a garbage bag."
Calleigh noticed the dismal tone of his voice and after hearing about the case, she couldn't doubt she felt the same way. Maybe he did have a heart.
"I'll take it to her," she answered with a sweet smile.
"Thanks," Speed replied, nodding slightly.
As Calleigh turned and made her way down the flight of steps, she was interrupted by footsteps nearing toward her position.
"By the way," Speedle exclaimed. "Welcome to the Lab."
With that, a smile spanned its way across Calleigh's face. She was taken back by his words. "Thanks!"
As she made her way down the hall embracing the manila folder, Calleigh contemplated her morning. Thus far, her day proved to be quite eventful and the rest of it would most likely be demanding judging by how rapidly she had a case. This, was sure to be an area of her life she was going to have to get used to. And as she thought back to the man she had met in the locker room, the words that her mother offered re-surfaced.
"First impressions are everything."
Calleigh smiled at the thought. "Well, maybe not everything."