a/n: hey! This is my first fan fic. Please be nice. No flames. R+R!!!

Disclaimer: Yeah I don't own any of the charaters. Just the plot.

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

Chapter 1

Nick Stokes glared at the clock as if it had been the one to wake him so early. Actually it was late but working the graveyard shift it made no real difference. He was used to this of course but tonight was different. He and Warrick had logged major overtime the previous two nights on a frustrating homicide involving some person that seemed mildly famous but he and Warrick had never heard of him. He took a sip of coffee and shut his eyes wishing he could've been sleeping instead.

"You look tired," said an annoyingly perky voice. Nick hated it when people were cheerful when he was tired.

"And you aren't?" he said opening his eyes and turning to watch Sara pour herself some coffee.

She shrugged "No, not really."

Nick smiled to himself. Stupid question really. Sara had so much enthusiasm for her job he wondered if she would go home if they let her stay here overnight. Come to think of it, he wondered if she ever slept. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Hi," he heard Sara greet someone. Nick looked up to see Warrick was standing in the doorway of the break room. His look reflected what Nick felt.

"How can you be awake?" Warrick mumbled to her. "If you ask me, that case went on way too long."

"Yeah," Nick agreed yawning. He took another drink. He had to admit the coffee was helping wake him up.

"Well." Sara said on the verge of agreeing, "It could've been important." She said defensively.

"Oh come on!" Nick said, "We had all the evidence we needed to put him away. It should've ended on Tuesday."

"You have to admit it was pretty pointless." Warrick said sitting down next to Nick.

"Fine," Sara caved, "You win. It was pointless to continue it that long," She sighed. She too had been really annoyed with the wife's refusal to co- operate with them. Especially when they had found the gun used to kill her husband hidden under her bed with her prints on it. Even after that she still had refused to speak to them and even Brass's usual effect on people didn't even faze her. Her lawyer had also been equally annoying claiming that our evidence was only circumstantial. Sara didn't see how but they had finally arrested her and now it was over with. She was just thankful for that. She personally hoped she would never hear the name Lou Everett again.

"Alright. . ." Grissom paused reading his CSI's assignments deciding who would be best for what crime scene. It hadn't escaped his attention that Nick and Warrick were barely awake. He decided it was best to split them up. It wasn't a great idea for two sleepy CSIs to be working one case. "Nick, Sara, you're with me. DB in the desert. Catherine, Warrick, you have a videotape to look over. Anonymous student turned in a tape recording the music teacher stealing from student's gym bags."

"So?" Catherine replied hoping there was a point to all this.

"So, among the things pulled from the bags are walkman, shoes, a few wallets and a gun. They recovered the gun from the teacher and want you to run it through ballistics." Grissom said casually.

Catherine frowned. There had to be something he wasn't telling her. It seemed to her like she'd drawn the short straw again. Why would they need 2 CSIs to run one gun through ballistics? Grissom's case seemed much more interesting than hers and Warrick's. Catherine knew better than to judge the case before any evidence had been collected but still.

She glanced over at Sara. She was evidently pleased with her case and Catherine couldn't blame her. A dead body in the desert was much more interesting than a high school thief, even if he did steal a gun

Grissom drove much to Sara's dismay, she had wanted to drive. Nick had teased her saying that there was no way he was getting into the car with her behind the wheel. She didn't find this funny, but Grissom had settled that by reaching the black Tahoe first. Sara had backed down and settled for the passenger seat forcing Nick into the back. After about 20 minutes of driving Sara was wondering if she should have brought a book. She wondered how much further it was when they turned onto I-19. So that was why it was taking so long. They had to get onto the highway. She settled back into her seat for the long wait.

They followed I-19 for another 20 minutes. Nick had fallen asleep in the back seat and was awakened suddenly as they pulled off the highway and then onto a dirt path about 10 minutes later. The car rocked uncontrollably. Could he ever catch a break? He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. Looking out the window he realized they had to be getting pretty close. The highway behind them was just a thin line in the distance. Turning around, he scanned the area for signs of police cars or any sign that they weren't driving aimlessly. He knew Grissom would never even consider that but he had to be sure. Yawning, he settled back and tried to relax which was hard to do on a gravel road. The sun had almost set and he noticed a sign go past his window. Grissom drove slower than he or Sara would have so you couldn't really miss it.

"Whoa!" Nick said suddenly, "Did that sign say 'Pete Sander's Ostrich Farm?'"

"Weird," Sara agreed, "I didn't know we had ostrich farms in Nevada."

"We do. I think there are a few others in Nevada too. Ostrich meat is supposed to be very good for you, you know? It has less fat, cholesterol and calories than beef or pork." Grissom piped up adding his usual tidbit of information.

Sara didn't find this information very interesting. Maybe she was biased as a vegetarian but ostrich and emu farms seemed a bit cruel to her. So what if they had less fat, calories and cholesterol. They were still birds and it was unfair to hunt them or raise them only to be turned into some disgusting ostrich burger or whatever they made them into.

"And that's where we're headed by the way." Grissom finished suspecting a lack of interest on the ostrich topic. This caught Sara's attention as well as Nick's.

"No way!" Sara said frowning, "Our DB is at one of those slaughter houses?"

"Sara," Grissom warned, "Keep your opinions to yourself while we're there, ok?"

Sara glared and was about to protest when Nick interrupted.

"What, did the ostriches peck him to death?" Nick asked.

"It's a possibility, " Grissom said, "But we haven't even seen the body and you're already calling it. For all we know, the ostriches could have nothing to do with it."

"I hope they did kill him," Sara muttered to herself.

Nick leaned forewords, "The DB may not be one of the farmers, Sara." "Oh really," she said snapped, "Who else could it be then? Who goes to an ostrich farm other than the farmers?" she shot back.

"Ummm. . . tourists?" Nick responded lamely.

Sara rolled her eyes at this, sighed in exasperation and glared at him as if to say "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."

Nick slumped back in his seat in time to see them pull into the driveway of 'Pete Sander's Ostrich Farm'. The sign had peeling red, white and blue paint with an emblem of an ostrich in front of an American flag. "How patriotic." He thought to himself. There was a single police car and an ambulance in the parking lot of this farm, if you could call it a parking lot. It was more like a small patch of gravel enough so transport trucks could back in and get out. It had a few dead shrubs littering the area around the lot and but other than that and the occasional cactus, there was no greenery to be found. Not surprising, really. The farm itself was a wooden structure which at one time or another must have been painted to match the sign. Out the back he could distantly make out a fenced in area probably a paddock of some kind for the ostriches, though at the moment he couldn't see any. There was a large metal trough, which stood out a mile being probably the only thing on the whole farm made of any kind of metal. Off to the side there was another wooden building, which he assumed must have held pitchforks or hay.

Grissom braked the Tahoe and climbed out. As he opened the door he was hit by an overwhelming stench. He began breathing through his mouth so he wouldn't have to smell it. No one said anything about the smell and they continued to the inside of the farm. He knew no one would say anything if they could help it. He'd been on the job long enough to have seen much worse than this.

Sara trailed behind him and Nick. He noticed a young man inside the barn who must have been waiting for them. He stood up from his desk and walked over to them. He couldn't have been more than 18 with a mop of messy blonde hair and looked maybe 6'1. He held out a hand and Grissom took it.

"Hi," he said, "My name's Jake Shaw."

"Gil Grissom," Grissom introduced himself and his team, "This is Nick Stokes and Sara Sidle. We're from the Las Vegas Crime Lab,"

"Ah, right," Jake said, "They said you'd be coming. Follow me. The body's out back."

A/N: I don't think this will turn into a N/S or G/S or G/C but hey.. who knows could happen.