I'm not familiar with particular details on this hospital please excuse me if I am incorrect.

-----Thanks for reviews

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When Nick arrived at HQ, he went straight to the lab. Greg and Sara were there waiting on him. He was surprised that he did not find Grissom as well.

"Greg," Nick said, "where's Gris? Didn't he leave before you?"

"Oh yea..." Greg hesitated. Apparently something had slipped his mind until this moment. "I was suppose to tell you to meet him at Desert Springs."

Sara rolled her eyes. She addressed Nick, "Our second 'victim' just came out of surgery. She's started to wake up and, get this, she asked to speak with a CSI. At first, I thought she might be our murderer, but when she asked to see one of us I began to doubt it."

"Well, I guess I had better head that way," Nick said with a sigh. He set down his kit and was starting out the door.

"Nick, wait! Your shirt," Greg said taking a few steps and motioning Nick to look at his shirt. What Nick had failed to realize was that while he was carrying the mysterious woman, she had continued bleeding on Nick. In the dark house the bloodstain didn't register on his navy blue shirt. In the light of the lab, however, he could see perfectly the ellipical shaped stain.

"We need your shirt, Nick," said Sara. A faint smile crossed her lips.

Greg decided to join in the joke, "Yeah, Nick let's see that washboard!" Both Sara and Greg began to laugh.

"Ha ha," Nick added. "That's really funny. Thanks guys." Nick carefully remove his shirt and laid it on the counter. Greg and Sarah walked around him making sure there was no other evidence that might escape inspection. Sarah was about to make a hilarious suggestion that Nick should remove his pants as well, but thought second of it. With seemingly everything looked over, they gave Nick permission to leave. Nick just stood there, topless. "And I'm suppose to wear..." he questioned.

Greg looked at him. Nickfigured what was coming and knewhe shouldn't have said anything. "You can have one of my shirts, Nick." Nick thought about it, and, seeing as he had no other option, it was all he could take.

"Sure, Greg," he said, almost remorsefully. A few minutes later, Greg returned with an obviously 'smaller-than-Nick' size shirt. With great effort, Nick eventually worked his way into the shirt. Sara couldn't help but laugh.

"Your welcome," Greg said. "I always keep a few extra shirts in my locker. You know, just in case I am cradling a homocide victim in my arms." Grag laughed at his own joke. Sara stifled her laugh but smiled nonetheless. "You can keep that shirt, Nick."

"Thanks... I guess." It was truly a sight to behold. Nick looked like a body buildy in spandex. The whole situation was made even funnier by the fact that Nick did not have a 'body builder' body-type. Nick looked himself over. Well at least it doesn't have words on it.

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Nick pulled into the Desert Springs' visitor parking and found a place to park. He reached into his back seat and pulled out his backup kit. Sure, Gris might have his kit, but I'm not taking any chances with this case, he thought. He made his way through the entrance to the front desk. The seat behind the desk was vacant all but a small sign: Break--back in 5 : ).

Nick sighed. Then he spotted the floor chart:

Ground Level- Admittance, Visitor Sign-in, Emergency Room

1st Floor- Physical Therapy

2nd Floor- Operating Room

3rd Floor- Recovery

4th Floor- ICU

5th Floor- Labor and Delivery

6th Floor- Private Rooms

7th Floor...

He thought for a moment. If she has just come out of surgery, then she must be on the third floor. But what if she was tranferred to a private room already? I'll check the 3rd floor first. He made his way over to the elevator and pushed the up button. A few minutes later her heard the familiar ding. The chrome doors slid open and Nick stood back to let anyone out onto the ground floor. When no one exited, he took a nonchalant step towards the open doors. He collided with a man and a newspaper fell out of thestranger's hands. He must have been reading and not noticed the elevator had stopped, thought Nick. Nick picked up the paper and handed it back to the man.

"Sorry about that," Nick said apologetically. The man cast him an angry look that said, "It's 4 a.m.; leave me alone." He snatch the paper out of Nick's hands. Nick took the hint and proceeded onto the lift. I'm not that bad in the morning... most of the time.

Thirty seconds later the metal doors slid open to reveal the 3rd floor desk. There was a lone woman sitting there looking very sleepy. She heard the doors open and spun around. She looked Nick over. Nick had scene that look before. She was checking him out... ormaybe it wasGreg's shirt.Nick sighed again and walked over to the desk.

"Las Vegas Crime Lab.I'm looking for a woman who just came out of surgery."

"Could you be a little more specific," she sounded a little testy, mostly from lack of sleep.

"I don't know her name," Nick began. "Did another man come here looking for her?A Gil Grissom?"

The receptionist flipped through a list of the day's sign-ins. "Hmmmmm," she let her eyes walk down the page. "Griffin... Groves... Graystone..."

"It should be fairly recent," Nick interrupted, "sometime within the last hour."

She eyed him dangerously before continuing,"... Ah yes, here we go. A Mr. Grissom signed in at 3:50. Room 312." After she had said this, she turned to her computer and began typing. She noticed Nick had not moved and was looking at her questioningly. "It's down that way," she said pointing with her pencil in a left direction. "Just follow the arrow."

Nick had followed arrows more than once tonight. He reached the door and knocked.

It was Grissom's voice that answered, "Come in."

Nick entered the room. Grissom stood next to a doctorlooking over the womans charts. A nurse was changing the woman's IV fluid.The woman, herself, sat propped against the upward-bent hospital bed. She looked perfectly fine except for a small cut on her left cheek. she was looking down whenNickentered, but he saw that her gaze was transfixed on him now. She smiled slightly.

Grissom looked at Nick and smirker, "Nice shirt."

AmI ever going to get abeak tonight? Nick asked himself.

"Am I to understand," the doctor began, "that this is the man who moved my patient."

"Doctor Jones," Grissom implored,"if I might stand in the defense of my colleague. There were several factors in play tonight when this young woman decide to appear. We must take into account the crime scene left to us was in almost perfect condition. Had the paramedics entered the house, they would have disrupted the crime scene. We do not look for contamination on a regular basis. We try to avoid it altogether."

Nick would have smacked himself if he had been alone. He knew better than to move an injured person. He didn't even assess her injuries. She could be dead now and I could be the blame, he thought. He pushed the thought away.

"Luckily," the doctor said eyeing Nick. He continued his conversation with Grissom, "Miss Hill's injuries were not critical. She had internal bleeding whichwe were able to stop in surgery. A laceration on the left brow and a few deep contusions are her minor injuries.The shoulder and abdomen wounds were caused by a flathead screwdriver. We bagged the tool to ensure no cotamination. She's shaken up a bit, but I am certain that Ms. Hill will make a full recovery." The doctor finished by patting the woman on the leg; she smilled back at him. He looked to the nurse, "Let's leave these three alone, Deb." With that said, the doctor and nurse left the room.

For the first time, Nick had a clear view of the woman, Ms. Hill. Her dark brown hair was down and fell past her shoulders by a few inches. Blue eyes were encircled in, what Nick thought was, a beautiful face. She smiled at him and he felt himself blush slightly.

"I don't believe we've had a formal introduction," said Ms. Hill jovially. "My name's Rebecca Hill." She extended her right hand toward Grissom.

"Gil Grissom, Las Vegas Crime Lab," Grissom said monotonely.

She shook his hand, then turned to Nick.

"Nick Stokes, Las Vegas Crime Lab."

What Grissom first notice about Rebecca was her accent. Not only was she not from Las Vegas, she was foreign to the western United States. Rebecca Hill had a southern accent. Nick wasn't as quick to realize it because of his upbringing in Texas.

"Now that that's out of the way," she said, "shall we get started. I guess ya'll wanna ask me some questionsto find out why I was in the closet."

Both Grissom and Nick were at a loss for words. She had gotten right to the point. "Yes," said Nick, eager for an explanation.

"Well," she started, " Elizabeth Monroe is my cousin. She would have been twenty-six next week. Two years ago, Liz was tranferred to Las Vegas from Birmingham, Alabama--Oh that's where I'm visitin' from. She's an accountant. Her dad's business has branches in some of the major citiesthroughout the country. When he presented her with the choices ofNew York, L.A., Chicago, Dallas, or Las Vegas,she chose Las Vegas." Rebecca paused and laughed. "She told me that she had never been to Vegas. She wanted to 'try something new'...Anyway," she contiued after a brief hesitation, "she invited me out here to spend the summer. Not only did I need time off from work for a few weeks, but I was also looking to tranfer out west myself. It was an opportuninty I couldn't pass up. I've only been here for a few days. Today is a day I can never forget..." She stop to gather strength,took a deep breath, and continued. "This morning everything was great. I had an interview that morning at ten and another that afternoon at two. Both interviews went great. That night me and Liz had movie tickets for 7:00. When it was finally over around 9:00 or 9:15, Liz decided she would go home. I asked her to go into one of the casinos with me. This is my first trip to Vegas and I wanted to see the casinos. She agreed, but very reluctantly. We ended up at the Mirage. We stayed there until about ten; that's when Liz said she was tired and wanted to go home and get in bed early.I knew she was lying because she always stays up and watches the Tonight Show reruns. Anyway I told her to go and said that I would catch a cab. Since we drove my car she felt a little gulity about taking it. I stayed at the Mirage until 1:00, when I called a cab. If you need to check to make sure I was there, I'm sure the casino could give you the footage. I was at the slots for most of the time. I stepped out of the cab at Liz's house right at 1:25. When I got to the front door I didn't bother tryin' to find the spare key she let me borrow. Before she left the Mirage, she said she would leave the door unlocked for me. When I opened the door... I saw--" she took a breath, "I saw blood, everywhere. I'd seen places pretty messed up before, but nothing like that. My first thought fell on Liz. I couldn't put it together. I was halfway in the living room when I heard movement behind me. I turned around but before I could see anything, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen." She motioned with her hand to her bandaged wound. "It was cold at first, then hot. Then I heard the voice.'Move,' he said, and Ifelt him lead me into Liz's bedroom. When I got there I saw an arm; at least I think it was an arm. Liz's arm...I don't remember what went through my mind. Everything was happening so fast. Liz was dead... I---I---"Rebecca felt the tears begin toflow down her cheeks. She cleared her throat."He pushed me towards the window. I fell onto the sharp corner of the sill. That is what caused this cut." She motioned towards her face. "Through the moonlight I couldn't see him--he stayed in the shadow--but I could see what weapon he wielded: a screwdriver. I wrote an arrow using my blood on the windowsill. We did this down the hall and into the kitchen. When we got to the kitchen he made me write on the wall...'COME GET ME' he said. After that was done he led me back to the bedroom. I could tell that I had lost a lot of blood already. It was getting harder to walk with every step. He could tell it too. He let go of my arm and I fell to the floor. I felt another pain. This time in my chest near my heart. He must have thought I was dead because he left. The next few minutes are a blur. I looked down and realized the screwdriver was still embedded in my shoulder. I had the earge to remove it but thought better of it. The screwdriver was stopping the bloodflow. I heard a door open in the house. I thought he was coming back. I managed to get to my knees and crawl into the closet. Everything went black after that. The next thing I remember I was starring at Mr. Stokes here. Then I blacked out again and woke up in this bed. So here I am." She finished, tears were rolling unhindered down her face.

Nick had taken a seat across the room from Grissom. He looked at Grissom's feet in search for his kit but couldn't find it. He silently praised himself for bringing his spare. As nick listened to Rebecca, he couldn't help but smile. Until she began her gruesome encounter with the murderer, she had yet to stop smiling. She was a happy person, and Nick already like that about her. All thought of her being the murderer vanished in her smile.

"Nick, did you get all that?" Grisom brought Nick back to reality. Nick realized he had written down a few notes on a notepad.

"Yeah, for the most part." He replied blushing. He had been so tranfixed on Rebecca that he forgot to ask any questions.

Grissom held up a tape recorder, "I think I got it." He looked at Rebecca, "Do you mind if we take your fingerprints and a DNA sample?"

"Not at all," was her reply.

Nick rose and swabbed her open mouth then began with the printing.

"Ms. Hill, you seemed to have answered every question we had intended to ask," Grissom added playfully as he rose to leave

"Well, I would've considered myself an idiot if I hadn'tanswered every question on your list. I use those same questions regulalry." Rebecca spoke as Nick took the last of her fingerprints. Both he and Grissom looked confused.

"And why is that?" Nick inquired.

"I never told you what my job back home was, did I?"

They both stared at her: an obvious "No."

She stated matter-of-factly, "I'm a crime scene analyst."

More to come later, I have to work tomorrow so i made this one longer than originally planned
thanks for the review once again. They help me out. : )