AN: Thanks for the lovely reviews - as long as you're nice, all kinds are welcome. Enjoy!


Miss Audra Stokes, as her little brother still liked to call her, was Nick's favorite sister. She was two years older than he was and two years younger than their big brother Billy, but she was, without a doubt, the resident sibling-in-charge. Audra was most like Nick, analytical with a good head on her shoulders and the same sense of fairness that they both inherited from their parents. She had often said that of any of the seven Stokes children, she and Nick should have been born twins – the main differences between them were gender and hair color (Audra was a redhead), and the fact that where Nick was drawn to science, Audra was drawn to numbers. They were so close that they still called each other by their childhood nicknames. When he was learning to talk, Nick had called his sister Dadra, and still did after forty years. Audra called her little brother an array of names, but most often her answer to Dadra was Ninny (what she called him at two), or Sicky Nicky (because he had been ill as child).

Audra, a CPA and mother of five, was the head of her own successful accounting firm in Houston. Her husband Sam was an artist and a stay-at-home dad of the finest caliber, but with five children Audra and Sam didn't get as much time to spend together as they would have liked. To help compensate for this, Audra blocked time on her calendar to chat with Sam from nine o'clock to nine-thirty every morning. Sometimes they talked on the phone; sometimes, it was online. It all depended on where he was and what kind of mood they were in.

Audra was the only one of the Stokes children that their mother called before she boarded a plan to Las Vegas after receiving a phone call from Nick's supervisor, and the only one she trusted to tell the remainder of her children that Nick was okay before telling them the story about their brother being buried alive. Following the ordeal, Nick wanted to see only Audra because only Audra wouldn't placate him, wouldn't patronize him, wouldn't smile sweetly and tell him it would all be okay. Only Audra knew of his nightmares.

When she returned home to Houston she blocked an additional half-hour on her calendar to make sure she talked to Nick every day. Now it had been almost a year and a half, and the time was no longer blocked on her calendar, but Nick knew he could still get a hold of Audra if he needed or wanted to. Most of the time they chatted online, since Audra's just-got-out-of-bed chipper voice annoyed her brother, who at nine-thirty, was ready to fall over, even if he wouldn't sleep.

About a week after Luke Daniels' trial wrapped up, Nick went home to his townhouse, made himself some breakfast, and sat down at his computer to chat with Audra (who, when this tradition of theirs began, was kind enough to set him up with a chat program and screen name).

ninny415: miss audra

audra.stokes: Good morning, Sunshine!

ninny415: knock off the happy crap

audra.stokes: Ooh, extra crabby this morning.

ninny415: something's buggin me

audra.stokes: Well, I'm here for you, Ninny. What is it?

ninny415: i don't know

audra.stokes: Should you be talking to our lovely sister Lauren, the super-shrink?

ninny415: no more shrinks please
ninny415: i want to talk to you

audra.stokes: OK. Just say what's on your mind.

ninny415: ive been working my ass off. on purpose.

audra.stokes: Particular case?

ninny415: no not really. just to be at work. i hate coming home.

audra.stokes: I think I know where this is going.

ninny415: dont say i need a girlfriend. i dont want someone i have to dress up for and impress.
ninny415: despite what billy thinks i do that every time i go to court

audra.stokes: Bitter much, Nick?

ninny415: you and i both know he's the reason i don't live in dallas anymore

audra.stokes: So he's got his stupid public defender job and you're happy in Vegas. What do you care anymore?

ninny415: because i'm bitter. he's still dad's favorite.
ninny415: with his stupid baseball championship and attorney job.

audra.stokes: But Billy's jealous of you because you're Pancho the Crimefighter and he's just Billy.

ninny415: hello? WILLIAM THE FOURTH!!

audra.stokes: -- Sighing.

audra.stokes: I see that I'm not going to make any headway on the Billy vs. Nicky battlefront this morning. Let's get back on-topic. You were saying . . . no girlfriend. Are you sure about that?

ninny415: audra if i wanna get laid, i live in vegas for cryin out loud

audra.stokes: -- Sighing. Again. I'm talking about companionship, Nicholas.

ninny415: let me level with you. im thinkin about calling someone i maybe shouldn't.

audra.stokes: I'd guess either a shrink or a hooker, but we already discussed those options.

ninny415: a victim.

audra.stokes: Oh.
audra.stokes: I didn't see that coming.
audra.stokes: Oooh, Nicky . . . explain, before I tell you what you already know.

ninny415: one of my cases i helped find a missing kid whose mom and dad were murdered. i guess ive taken a shine to her since then.

audra.stokes: Why are you thinking about calling her? How old is she?

ninny415: 11. i think she needs me.

audra.stokes: Oh, Ninny. What would Lauren say right now?

ninny415: i'm serious audra. she's havin a hard time adjusting to her foster home and she needs someone.

audra.stokes: Why's that person gotta be you?

ninny415: who else is it gonna be?

audra.stokes: What do you think you can do for her?

ninny415: i can be to her what you are to me.

audra.stokes: I am your Queen. You cannot be a queen; you keep shaving your head.

ninny415: ha ha ha
ninny415: seriously please.

audra.stokes: Seriously, Nick, it's sweet that you want to help her.

ninny415: but?

audra.stokes: But would it be worth your job, if it comes down to it? What kind of risk are you taking?

ninny415: look audra, i know i help people in my job, but just once maybe it would be nice to help the living. i really identify with this kid. she could use someone who understands what its like to go through trauma.

audra.stokes: You could use a reminder that life's not as bad as your job makes it look. But again Nicky – is it worth your job?

ninny415: I can always get another job.

audra.stokes: ?#&!&!
audra.stokes: Excuse me. I fell off my chair.
audra.stokes: Nick, you've NEVER said that, or anything like it. Not EVER. You don't even JOKE about that. I thought you loved your job.

ninny415: i do, but maybe this is bigger than my job.

audra.stokes: Have you talked to the bearded guy about it?

ninny415: grissom shaved his beard
ninny415: and no i havent
ninny415: and im not going to either

audra.stokes: Why?

ninny415: because hell tell me not to do it.

audra.stokes: Oh, grow up, Nicholas!

ninny415: hey, its none of his business!

audra.stokes: -- Sighing.
audra.stokes: Again.
audra.stokes: So clearly, you've already made up your mind.

ninny415: i guess so

audra.stokes: Give me some kind of comfort here Nick. Tell me you're not being a complete melonhead about this.

ninny415: strictly speaking, since the case is closed and the trial is over, there shouldn't be any concerns.

audra.stokes: So if that's the case, why are we talking about this?

ninny415: i wanted to bounce it off someone.

audra.stokes: Well, you bounced. Feel better?

ninny415: not really
ninny415: once I get to talk to cassie ill probably feel better though.

audra.stokes: Well, sir – get some sleep, and give her a call.

ninny415: will do. how are the kids?

audra.stokes: The girls – sassy and beautiful, like their mama. The boys – respectful and handsome, like their daddy. Sam's exhibiting in Dallas in a few weeks.

ninny415: great news. send me pics, ok?

audra.stokes: Will do – ttyl Nicky :)

Nick slept peacefully for about three hours that morning, but woke in early afternoon in a cold sweat. It was becoming more and more common to not remember the nightmares. It had taken him a while to get used to this, but once he did he considered it an improvement. No memories of a night terror meant he wasn't plagued by them during waking hours.

Once he woke, he never got any more rest, so he rose and showered and made himself something to eat. Eventually he found himself sitting on his couch, his cell phone in one hand and his business card in the other, turned over to reveal the ten digits Cassie had written on the back.

Slowly, he dialed them. A young voice answered. "Hello?"

Suddenly nervous, realizing he had no idea what he'd say to her, he stood. "Hi . . . can I talk to Cassie?"

"Who's calling?"

"My name's Nick."

He heard rustling and muffled hollering in the background, and then, "Hello?"

"Hi – I was calling for Cassie."

"I'm Cassie. Is this Nick?"

"Yeah, it's Nick. How are you?"

"I'm okay," she replied, her voice raspy. "I got a cold."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart." Nick sat back down on the couch. "Do you want me to let you get some rest? I can call back."

"No," she said quickly. "I'm supposed to be doing my science homework and I don't want to."

"What kind of science homework?"

"Dumb science homework," she replied like the eleven year old she was. It made him smile.

"You know, Cassie, you're talkin' to a scientist. Maybe I could help you."

"You're a detective – that's not the same thing."

"No, I'm not. I'm a scientist. What I do is called forensic science."

There was a pause while Cassie tried to control a coughing fit. "What kind of stuff is that?"

"Forensics is the use of science and technology to investigate a crime and determine what happened, and sometimes, what didn't happen."

"What kind of science?" She sounded tired and doubtful.

"Well, for example, we can find fingerprints. That's the most common thing we do." He tried to think of something slightly less gruesome than the next thing that came to mind, which was blood spatter analysis, but was having a tough time coming up with anything. "Oh – and we do something called chromatography, which is how you can identify different inks."

"The fingerprints sound okay, but chroma-whatever . . . sounds boring." She coughed.

He supposed it would sound boring, particularly to an eleven year old who wasn't feeling well. "What's your assignment?" he asked.

"I hafta read some stuff about tectonic plates or something and then do a map."

Nick had to pause in his reply so she could settle another coughing fit. Instead of saying what had been at the tip of his tongue, he sighed and said gently, "You know what, honey, I think you need to get some rest. You don't sound so good." Visions of his mother wrapping him in blankets and handing him mugs of chicken broth flashed through his mind and he swore he could smell the eucalyptus she used to put in his bath. He rubbed the spot on his chest where she'd rub Vicks and then pull one of his dad's old undershirts over his head.

"I should finish this."

He smiled. "You're a good kid, Cassie. Finish it up, but then head to bed. Maybe you can get that Miss Emily to give you some warm milk or something."

"I'll probably just go to bed," she said. "I hate bein' sick."

"I know the feeling well," he replied affectionately. "If I can, I'll call you tomorrow to check up on you, okay?"

"Okay. Hey, Nicky?"

His eyes crinkled. "Yeah, Cass."

"Thanks for calling."

"Sure thing, princess. Bye."

"Bye."

Nick did call her back the next day, but the teenaged boy who answered the phone had said she was sleeping. He left a message that he had called, and then went on with his day.


The following Wednesday he was in the middle of yet another double shift, helping Greg process a car that had been left in the baking Nevada heat with a body in the backseat, when his cell phone rang. He pulled it off his belt and looked at the number. He didn't immediately recognize it, but knew it was familiar, so he answered.

"Stokes."

"Um . . . Nick?"

"Yeah," he replied disinterestedly. "This is Nick Stokes." He shot Greg a look, rolling his eyes.

"Hi, Nick. It's Cassie."

He smiled and got out of the car. "Hey, princess," he said. "Feelin' better?"

"Yeah, a little," she replied. Her voice wasn't as raspy but she sounded a little far away. "I'm sorry I was sick the other day when you called."

"You don't have to apologize for bein' sick, sweetie. I called you back – did you get my message?"

"Yeah, Robbie told me someone called for me . . . he didn't say who, but I figured it was you."

"Hey, Nick – quit flirtin' with your girlfriend and help me out here," whined Greg, who was on the last leg of what amounted to a 24-hour shift, having waited almost all day to testify in a trial only to be put off until the next day, and then being called in by Grissom.

Despite this, Nick shot him a filthy look. "Hang on a second, Cassie – it's kind of loud in here." He put the phone to his shoulder. "I'm doin' you a favor, Sanders – lay off." He removed his gloves and put them in an evidence bag, and then moved to the hallway. "That's better. Hey, how did the tectonic plates go?"

"Fine. Once I got to read the chapter it wasn't so bad, and the map was easy. What are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm at work. I was in the garage."

"The garage where they keep the police cars?"

"No, it's a different kind of garage. It's where we take cars or other vehicles if we have to look for evidence in them."

"Like fingerprints?"

"Yeah, that's what I was doing."

"I told my science teacher that I learned what forensic science was. She told me I could do forensic science for my science project."

"That'd be neat," replied Nick with a smile, wandering around slowly. "If you want some ideas, you should ask me. When do you do your project?"

"It's due next month – we got the assignment today."

"You don't sound too excited about it. Don't you like science, Cassie?"

She was quiet for a moment while a smile crept over his face. "I like science okay," she replied, her voice small. "But I like other things better. Like reading."

"Are you going to be in a play this year?" he asked.

"No," she said sadly. "Miss Emily doesn't let us do after-school stuff because she can't always leave and go to pick people up everywhere."

"How many kids does Miss Emily have?" he asked.

"Six that live here all the time. Other kids come and go. There's a helper that comes sometimes, like if we have doctor's appointments that Miss Emily has to take us to."

"Oh . . . I'm sorry. Listen, let me think about some ideas for your science project. This weekend I'll come visit. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," she replied, and he was pleased that he could hear the smile he imagined crept across her face.

After saying his adieus and replacing his phone on his belt, he headed back to the garage to find Greg struggling to open the hood of the car. With a grin he strode over to Greg, putting on new gloves, and reached under Greg's arm to release the latch. The hood popped, and he raised it easily over their heads. Greg shot daggers at Nick through his eyes.

Nick simply smiled back. "Go home, Greggo," he said quietly. "I got this."

Too tired to argue, Greg dropped his glare and thanked Nick before stumbling out of the garage, headed for the locker room.

(c) 2008 J. H. Thompson