The hits I have been getting on this story have blown me away. Thanks to those who took the time to review, I really appreciate that.

The CSI guys are on their way, I want to check in on Randy, I know some have wanted to know the "other story". Since its Randy, it's a little on the lighter side. He always makes me laugh. Hope I don't disappoint.

If there was one good thing about being suspended, Randy thought, it was the time he got to do all the things that he had been putting off. Sitting on his patio chair outside his apartment, he looked at "The Disher List".

1. Organize desk – ok, not original, he thought, but all his old pictures are there and he needed to find some specific ones.

2. Put pictures in photo album – I guess that is a big "DUH!" but Randy was methodical about his lists. Monk would be so proud.

3. Bring photo album to the Captain – He didn't think that showing the pictures would change the Captain's mind about the suspension, but he hoped that they would just understand. Anytime that Randy had a girlfriend, real or imaginary, they never believed him. Ok, of course they wouldn't believe the imaginary ones, but for once Randy hoped that they would see that his relationship with Sara was very real.

4. Give Mr. Frisker a bath – Maybe I should put this on the bottom of the list, he hated washing his pomeranian, but Mr. Frisker didn't stay clean for long, and Randy had to wash him every other week. Sigh, I guess the sooner I wash him, the sooner Randy could bring the album to the Captain and help to solve the case.

5. Call Mom. He hadn't called her in a couple of days and for his mother, that is an eternity. She kept him on the phone for hours talking about her cats and wanting Mr. Friskers to get on the phone. Mr. Friskers loved his mother and he would sit by the phone yipping as his mother cooed.

6. Make TheRandyDisher Project a worldwide phenomenon. He smiled, it doesn't hurt to dream.

Setting aside his list, Randy finished his tea, "Well, it's better to get this over with," he thought. Organizing his desk was a project in itself. Not that he was a messy person, it was just that he was easily……distracted. Too often he would start cleaning his desk, find a CD that he had been looking for, and wanting to listen to it, go into another room and by the time he put the CD in and turned on, he would be thinking of another song for his group: TheRandyDisher Project was the name of his band, his vision to take fusion music to the next level of entertainment. Well it really wasn't fusion music, but it sounded good to him and it was hard to describe what kind of music it is, so fusion was as good a name as any.

Organizing his mail took less time than he thought. Soon the top of his desk was taken care of, and Randy went to go through his drawers that held his pictures. Finding a picture of Sara wasn't too hard. He had lots of them. She wasn't crazy about taking pictures, but she humored him when they went out. The first picture made him smile at once. It was a Polaroid. They were cheek to cheek and she gave one of her rare gap toothed grins. It was their first date. They went in the booth and paid the $5 thinking they were going to get more than one picture. They were too busy giggling that Randy forgot to look at the lens and it looked like he was rolling his eyes and she smiled big.

"I can't believe this Randy," Sara had said. "Five bucks for a Polaroid? And it's awful!"

Randy took the picture from her, "It's adorable. You don't want it?"

"No, you can keep it." Sara really didn't want a reminder of this date. Her friend at the Coroner's Office set her up, and this guy wasn't exactly what she had been expecting. She'd make the best of it.

They went to a movie, Rising Sun, with Sean Connery, who was a hero to Randy. Unfortunately, the movie was a dud, they were found by the usher over an hour after the movie had finished. Sara had her head on his chest, Randy's head back on the chair snoring away. It was a good thing that the guy found them, or they would have been locked in the theater. When the usher woke Randy, he saw her head on his chest, and he didn't want to wake her. She looked so peaceful there. It was there that Randy lost his heart to Sara Sidle.

Looking for more photos he found another, Randy was holding a cake, Sara was lighting the candles. After they sang, Sara gave him a gift that he still had to this day: a photo album. The front read: Randy's Memories.

"I figured that since we started out with a photo, you would need an album to keep them in," she had said. "Happy birthday Rand."

She kissed him lightly on the cheek. She wasn't into public displays of affection; really she didn't show much in displaying affection of any kind. They where more than friends, Randy thought, but she played things cautiously.

Where was that album? Randy searched everywhere and couldn't find it. Then he remembered where it could be. Going into his bedroom, he looked under his bed. A large colorful hat box was under there. There it is, he thought to himself.

The box was dusty, inside was the worn photo album. He hadn't looked at it for years. It brought back a lot of bad memories.Their relationship started out well enough, but soon her education and his band started to pull them apart. Soon their time together happened less and less often. She was taking courses at the college, and the more she went to the seminars the more she didn't want to spend time with Randy.

Opening the book the first page that fell open was one of the last they would have together. It was a picture of her sitting with Randy at a table with a mariachi man in between. She looked much put out and didn't want the picture at all, but Randy insisted. His band opened for the mariachi band at the restaurant. It would be the last time she would come to a performance, he thought to himself, she made no bones about how she didn't like his band.

"Randy, you guys aren't that good," she told him that night. "Why are you wasting your time?"

"This isn't a waste of time!" Randy was irritated at her attitude. "We are good; we just need to work out a couple of kinks."

"Kinks huh?" Sara asked as she picked the lettuce leaf out of his hair. "How many times were you pelted with the house salads tonight? Eight? That's a record for sure, but not a good one."

"It was only six, and they missed my face most of the time." He tried reasoning with her. "Some people just want to be a critic."

Sara stood up, she was done trying to be nice, "How many are here? Ten? So the only people that didn't throw anything at you was the bartender, and that's only because he was too far away and me. That isn't "some"."

Randy stood up and tried to draw her to him. She stiffened as he tried to hug her. "And I really appreciate you for that." She pulled away from him, total disgust in her face.

"You don't get it, do you? Randy, you are a good cop, with the makings of being a great cop, and you are wasting time every night on this." She gestured to the stage. "Have you even considered taking the detective exam again?"

"I haven't really studied for it." He admitted this begrudgingly. She was always pushing for him furthering his education, he just didn't see why. He was going to be a rock star. He didn't need to waste time that could be used to write more music.

"I can't do this anymore, Rand. I just came here to tell you that I'm leaving."

"What? You're kidding me right? Where are you going?"

"Vegas. I am helping a colleague with a couple of cases while he looks for a replacement CSI."

"CSI? That's quite a jump from the Coroners Office." Randy said, "I guess a trip to Vegas now and then would be fun. See the shows, with you." He smiled, thinking about the fun they could have.

"Randy, you don't understand. I don't want you following me to Vegas." Sara was looking at him, and the realization on Randy's face started to seep into his features, she had to turn away. It was too horrible to watch. Kind of like looking at a kid who finds out that Santa isn't real, it was a hopelessness that was heart wrenching.

"But….I thought we were doing so well…." Randy stuttered, "I thought there was a connection."

Sara tenderly held his hand, trying to comfort him when she said, "There was, but Randy I can't wait until you grow up from this dream of being a rock star. Those dreams are over. I gotta go, good bye Randy."

He was in a state of shock as she walked away. I can be a rock star! Just wait and see! He thought to himself.

Within two months he took and passed the detective's exam. The day that he received his new badge, he called LVPD and got a hold of Sara. She wasn't too pleased to hear from him. Looking back, he admitted that writing to her everyday for two months probably was a little desperate, especially with ending each letter with: Anxiously awaiting your return XOXOXOXO Rand.

He sighed. He wanted to impress her, but she didn't want anything to do with it. Two days later a thick manila envelope was shipped to him, in it was all the letters he sent, unopened. The note she sent to him he put in the last page of the photo album.

Dear Randy,

I don't know how to say this. At one time in our relationship, I cared about you deeply. I was alone with no one to talk to, and you were there. We had a lot of good times, but Randy, those days are over. I know how much you care about me, but, I do not love you. I won't even lie and tell you that we could "just be friends," that would be a lie.

You are a great guy, just not the one for me. I wish you the best of luck in your life. Congratulations of the promotion.

Please do not contact me anymore,

Sara

Closing the book made the pain of those memories fade, a bit. He was going to do whatever he could to help with the case. He owed that to her. If it hadn't been for her prompting, he would have never taken the exam, and when she left it gave him the gumption to put TheRandyDisher project aside to focus on his work. She helped him to be the man he is, all he could do was return the favor.

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