A/N: Okay, so I lied. It's been almost two weeks. I'm sorry, really, but I had this huge English test to study for, and it sucked, plus there are auditions for the musical, and now I'm just ranting.

Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Glad to see people like it so far. (sjwpurple, thanks for the very literal lovely review...) Fall Out Boy's new single 'America's Suitehearts' just came out last week, so… I might've been writing to it on an endless loop. Hope it doesn't show... –sigh- This chapter deals with evidence, but we don't have a viable suspect right now. Let's see how it goes.

Disclaimer: I have duct tape, black gloves, and a balaclava. I'm going after this sucker. CSI SHALL BE MINE.

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bruised
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And if either of you two even thinks about goin' to the police, you'll be dead before the words even come outta your mouth. Got it? And no hospitals neither. They record stuff like this. Take care of it yerselves.

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Chapter Two
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Gil Grissom wasn't a very intolerable man. Yes, he had this annoying habit of answering rhetorical questions, and on more than one occasion he was often right when it came to these answers. But that didn't mean his team kept things from him on occasion, did it?

Granted, he hadn't been past the A/V lab yet, but with a gigantic mouth like Hodges roaming the aqua halls of the lab, it was rather shocking word hadn't spread to the supervisor's office yet.

Maybe he was giving Hodges too much credit.

"So, you're saying that the injuries your victim sustained," he said calmly, looking at them over the rims of his glasses, "match Archie's, and you think it's connected." Nick and Catherine winced. The words "think," "assume," or "believe" without proper evidence never went well with Grissom.

"Well, it's a theory," Nick said carefully, and Grissom raised his eyebrows. Ack, he was using all the taboo words. "It's possible there was a mob hit throughout the city—"

"And there are more victims out there," Catherine finished, saving Nick from hot water.

"If no one's reported it," Grissom said evenly, "how do you expect to find them?"

Catherine nodded her head thoughtfully. "We may just have to wait until someone checks into a hotel with more consistent injuries." She shrugged.

"That could take weeks," Nick pointed out.

"Even months," Catherine added. "Depended on how terrified these victims are…"

"Nick, what makes you think these cases are all connected?"

Nick bit his lower lip in thought. "I dunno, Gris, it just seems fishy to me. Arch and this guy go to the same high school, then show up with the same injuries?"

"Similar," Catherine corrected. "There were a few inconsistencies."

"Either way," Nick redirected the conversation. "You say it yourself, Grissom. Evidence never lies, there's no such thing as coincidences. I'm going with my gut on this one."

The supervisor nodded. "Work with that to the side, if you will." Then he gave them his best Grissom stare. "But right now, it's time to see what else Mr. Davies has to tell us."

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"Ow! Crap!" Greg Sanders stuck his wild head in the Trace lab where the head analyst was waving his hand and wincing in pain.

"Bad luck all around," Greg said, smirking. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened," David Hodges said, giving Greg the Evil Eye, "this trace Nick and Catherine found on Ben Davies, that's what happened."

"That doesn't answer my question, unless I'm telepathic."

Hodges rolled his eyes and held up a small piece of metal. "It's a sharp little bastard. How's that?"

"That works better." Greg raised an eyebrow. "You cut yourself?"

"'Pricked' would be a better term," Hodges corrected, putting the metal back down. "I'm not bleeding."

"So what kind of metal is it?" Greg asked, walking in, interested.

Hodges gave Greg his best superiority look as he said smugly, "It's not metal, it's plastic. Part of a DVD."

"A DVD?"

"Yes, a digital video—"

"I know what a DVD is. It's a rhetorical question." Greg threw Hodges a disgusted look. Hodges, used to being interrupted, picked the plastic up, stuck it in an evidence bag, and handed it to the CSI, saying snippily, "Well, then, I suppose it's time for Nick and Catherine to do their job."

Greg raised an eyebrow again.

Hodges smirked. "Find out why," he said, turning back to his microscope.

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Goggles on, Bobby Dawson pulled the soundproofed headphones firmly in place over his shaggy, strawberry-blonde hair and picked up a .9 Glock. He shook his head. He loved guns way more than the next guy, but variety every one in a while was great. Then his mind shifted to a particular gun remodeled into a machine gun and he winced.

Um. Regularity was good, actually.

"Firin' one!" he shouted, aiming the Glock into the opening to the water container. The sound was deafening, but—ha, ha—he had on his trusty headphones. The lab techs next to the ballistics lab jumped, as usual. You'd think they'd be used to it by now, he thought, pulling off his equipment.

"Hey, country," Nick came strolling into the Ballistics lab, and Bobby looked up.

"Oh, hey, Nick. Just got your test about five minutes ago. The bullet was fired from a revolver. The striations are different obviously, but take a look at this." He pulled his

Bobby sighed as he leaned back. "Well, I'll tell ya'll this: whatever gun shot that bullet was part of an old mob hit fifteen years back." He pointed at the screen. "It was actually stolen from the lab during the case. They never found it." The ballistics expert grinned in spite of himself. "Whoever did that had guts, huh?"

Nick blinked a few times, staring at the word on the screen. "It was stolen?"

Bobby nodded. "Stolen."

"How does one steal a piece of evidence from a crime lab?"

"Search me." Bobby shrugged as he fished out the bullet out of the water and inspected it carefully. "Warrick and Sara's case," he said when Nick stared at it interestedly. "I had to compare thirteen different bullet fragments." He rolled his eyes.

"That bites, huh," Nick said, grinning. After a moment, a thought entered his head.

"Does Archie own a cat?"

"Yeah," was the distracted response. "Why?"

"No reason." His cell rang suddenly, and he pulled it out. A message flashed:

Meet me in Grissom's office. You're gonna want to see this. You were right. –Catherine.

He snapped the lid shut.

"Gotta get going, Bobby." He said, and the tech nodded, noticing the look.

"Have fun," he grinned.

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Hours later, the techs were all converged in the break room.

"Dinner a la Wendy's," Hodges announced, smirking as he stepped in with his hands full of bags. Wendy, passing by, rolled her eyes and flicked his head before chasing Sara down as she walked in the opposite direction. Wincing and shooting her back a death glare, he strolled on into the break room. Mandy, Archie, Henry and Bobby looked up expectedly.

"Whose turn is it next time?" Hodges sidetracked them, holding the bags out of reach as they all tried to grab for them.

"Mine," Mandy said impatiently. "Now hand it over before I bite your wrist off. I'm starving here."

"Ah, ah, you didn't—"

"You tell me to say 'please' and I will harm you."

Hodges handed her the bag without another word.

Archie glanced into the bag the Trace tech had handed him, made a face, and handed the bag right back over to Hodges, who smirked and said, "I'm sorry, did I hand you the chicken sandwich by accident? I did not know you had an aversion to poultry."

Archie gave him the old mocking lip-curl-head-shake as he grabbed the correct bag. "I swear, Hodges, when it's my turn to get take-out, I'm going to get you tuna."

Hodges made a gagging noise. "Good God, no."

Nick poked his head in. "Hey, Arch, I've got a question."

Archie looked up from the bag. "Yeah?"

Nick held up a printed letter, smiling in a way that the techs all feared to see on a CSI. It meant one of two things: "You are in some serious trouble" or "I have plenty of work for you, my friend."

It seemed to be the former as Nick said, sounding overly smug, "An e-mail from a Mr. Ben Davies involving a reunion with an old high school pal at the Monte Carlo."

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end chapter
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A/N: Ever pricked yourself on a broken CD? Those little bastards are sharp, I will tell you.

I have no idea where this is going, honestly, but please, bear with me. I try, I really do.

Reviews are, as usual, lovely.