Clark County News, November 15, 2013: "Last year, the flu season was a late one – it didn't take hold until spring – but this year, it came early and it is a vicious virus: the H3N2 strand, or avian flu, that caused a pandemic in Hong Kong in 1968."

"I haven't seen the inside of my apartment in a week," Sara was saying as she pulled a clean set of clothes out of her locker. "I've been literally sleeping in the on call room."

"Yeah, I haven't been home in three days," I said, pulling on coveralls as I prepared to head out to two dead bodies found in a dumpster. "I only went home to say hello to my dog and then I came right back. My poor neighbor has been stuck walking and feeding him for almost a month. Luckily she doesn't have a life."

"You mean like us?" Sara shot back with a rueful smile.

"I hadn't even finished logging the evidence from my last case before I got this one," I stated, shaking my head with disgust. "It's just sitting in a box in lockup, along with evidence from the last three scenes I've worked that I haven't logged either."

"This is getting utterly ridiculous," she spat, either too irritated or too tired to care that she was undressing right in front of me, maybe both. Her bra and underwear were black, a stark contrast to her pale skin. "Half of the staff have been out sick for the better part of a week. When are we going to get some help around here?"

"Jeeze, give a guy some warning when you're doing that!" you crowed from the doorway, holding a file folder in front of your eyes with a dramatic flourish.

"Nothing you haven't seen before," Sara muttered, rolling her eyes, but there was an unmistakable blush in her cheeks. "This is a locker room, you know. It's not my fault it's co-ed. What do you want, anyway?"

"I just came from the morgue. Doc Robbins sent for you," you responded, holding out the case file that had been shielding your eyes. "Your D.B.s in Henderson died from complications from the flu."

"Both the husband and the wife?" Sara asked dubiously as she snatched the file out of your hands, her button down shirt still hanging open as she read the file. "They were found in bed together. This can't be right. They were in their forties."

She fled from the room, frowning as she continued to peruse the results.

"Sara!" you called. She turned back with obvious irritation. "Your shirt."

She swore quietly as she quickly buttoned up, continuing on her brisk walk as she did so. You turned back to me, unable to hold back a bark of laughter, and it was probably the first time I'd heard you laugh in months. I grinned back at you, stepping closer as I made my way to leave the room. I clapped a hand to your shoulder playfully; I could feel the warmth of your body through your clothes, the same warmth I'd been missing since you left me. Our eyes met, your smile fading, and for a moment I almost swore I saw the anguish in your eyes, the flash of pain, the yearning.

I opened my mouth, the words dangerously balancing on the tip of my tongue, ready to tumble unceremoniously in what surely would've been a mess of sentiments and regrets. But for the first time in a long time, I thought you might listen.

"Excuse me, guys," Morgan interjected, quickly sliding past us. "I overslept, I'm so sorry I'm late. I only went home to catch a quick nap."

I dared to interpret the look in your eyes as disappointment.

"It's fine," I said, nodding, but I wasn't sure if I was talking to Morgan or you. I squeezed your shoulder comfortingly before releasing my hold. "I'll see you guys later."

I heard Morgan loudly blow her nose as I left the locker room.

To be continued...