wraiths-angel -I'm happy you're still enjoying!Yup, they'll notice...

Cassandra- the answer to your first question lies here, the second, i feel, may take much longer to answer...

Maraena - Greg has not been in this season half as much as he should have been. I always found Vegas to be the 'darkest' of the three, and loved having Greg pop up for a bit of light relief - I hope they bring him back next season like he was before.

When Nick came to, he found himself lying on something lumpy and in a small pool of water, in the dark. He groaned, and rubbed the back of his head. When he pulled his hand away, he found it wet, but even when his eyes adjusted to the dark, he couldn't tell if it was because of blood, or because of the water he had been lying in.

He looked around, squinting in the dark. He could just make out the outline of a body next to him. It was Cheryl – that explained the slight lumpiness as it looked like he was lying on her arm – and her face was almost fully submerged in the water.

He rolled over onto his knees and pulled her face into his lap. As he brushed her hair out of her face, he noticed what else was causing his lumpy bed. Judging from the state of decay, it was quite possibly the hit-and-run victim.

He put his hand on Cheryl's chest. She wasn't breathing. Nick's stomach dropped. He pulled her onto the body to get her out of the water and began CPR. He wasn't sure how long he was doing it, or how many breaths he had breathed into her, but finally she began coughing up water. He rolled her over onto her side and rubbed her back until she could finally breathe.

Cheryl groaned loudly, 'Nick? Is that you?'

'Yeah. Are you okay?'

'I feel a bit dizzy, and my head is killing me, but I'm good.' She paused and frowned, 'where are we, and why am I sitting in water?'

'I really don't know.'

Finally, Cheryl's eyes became as accustomed to the dark as they were going to. She got to her feet and stuck her arms out. From what she could feel from where she was, the water was up to her ankles, and she was in some form of room, or hole. It wasn't very high, as she could reach the ceiling, and she could just about make it out from the glimmers of light that were peaking through the sides, although she couldn't poke her fingers through. And it wasn't just light that was coming through. It was water as well.

The hole had concrete walls, but a dirt floor, and when she stretched her arms out found it to be about two or three feet wide – quite tight. As they were at one end of the 'room' she manoeuvred her way past Nick and the body, and carefully began walking forward. However, despite the care, the dark and the water did a very good job of hiding the step, and she tripped up. Literally.

There was a series of steps upwards. Although she had grazed her hands and elbows, she climbed up the steps until she hit her head. There was something covering the steps, and no matter how hard she pushed, either with her hands, or her back, she couldn't get it to shift. 'Hey, Nick, come here and give me a hand. And watch out for the step.'

Nick made his way over, his feet sloshing around in the water, and he climbed the steps. The two of them began pushing. 'What the hell is this?' Asked Nick after the two eventually gave up and sat down on the steps.'

Cheryl snorted. 'A mechanic's pit.'

'Are you sure?'

'I have been in enough of them to know. But as to what's covering it, I have no idea.' She sighed. 'We're not getting out of here unless someone lets us out.' She could feel Nick begin to shake uncontrollably next to her. 'Nick? Are you okay?'

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Back on the strip, the Christmas party was in full swing. Greg was getting drunker, and had managed to conjure up several conga trains to even the slowest of ballads. He had also managed to start a snowball fight in the fake snow, and had successfully earned kisses off of about eighty five percent of the women in the room – hence the conga train.

Greg had ditched his jacked a long time ago – the sleeves were getting in the way. He handed a napkin to the last girl he had kissed, complete with his number. Although, what he didn't realise was that about thirteen napkins ago, his zeros had drunkenly started turning into sixes. 'Call me,' he told the red head he gave the napkin to.

The red head cocked an eyebrow, 'isn't that what I should be telling you?'

'I'm a twentieth century guy.'

'Um, Greg, it's the twenty-first century.'

Greg gave her a cheeky grin and jumped up, moving on to the next unsuspecting suspect.

Grissom had danced with Catherine and was currently slow dancing with Sofia, who looked beautiful in red. The both were looking relaxed and content as the chatted whilst they were dancing.

'Is this the same dress that you wore to the first crime scene we processed together?'

Sofia nodded, 'it is actually. I'm surprised you noticed.'

'Sofia, you look exquisite in that dress, of course I was going to remember.'

'That seems so long ago,' she smiled.

'You were ready for a promotion,' said Grissom.

'And you were close to getting fired by Ecklie.'

Grissom smiled, 'some things haven't changed,' he told her, looking at Ecklie, who was talking to someone who was obviously of great importance, and Grissom probably should have recognised, but not being very political didn't, and didn't care either.

'Thank you,' Sofia told him softly.

'For what?' He asked her, slightly puzzled.

'For making me stay. You were the reason I did. And I never thanked you for that.'

The two smiled at each other and continued to dance.

Sara was at the bar, actually a lot more drunk that she appeared. In fact, she was about the only person who looked miserable. She was drinking another bottle of beer, not even bothering to pretend she was listening to Hodges and his girlfriend who were chatting with, or rather, at her.

'…. So you see, Helen, that is why the job of a trace analyst is just as important, if not more so than that of a CSI. We do actually get paid more, don't we, Sara?'

Sara gave a non-committal grunt, took another swig of her beer, and glared of at the dance floor.

'It's just that CSIs get more publicity – they're who the public sees. But I'm hoping that my TV debut the other month will have helped to change the public's perception.' He continued, not even noticing that Sara wasn't even listening.

Catherine parted with Jim, - she had just been dancing with him – and debated heading over to talk to Sara. However, after spotting Warrick by himself, looking just as forlorn, she changed her mind and went to sit with him.

'You look just as miserable as Sara.' She told him.

Warrick frowned at her and took a sip of his whiskey. 'I think Tina's seeing someone else.' He told her suddenly.

Catherine's eyes widened in surprise, 'oh?'

'Yeah, and I think we made a mistake. We shouldn't have gotten married.'

'Oh, Warrick,' sighed Catherine softly, laying a hand on his, 'all marriages have their ups and downs.'

'No, I think I made a mistake,' he repeated, looking at her, 'I married the wrong woman.'

'Where's Neryl and Shick?' Slurred Greg as he came over and landed heavily in a heap on the chair next to Catherine.

That was it – Catherine had had too many interrupted conversations, 'Greg!' She exclaimed, clipping him around the side of the head.

'He's got a point, Cath,' said Warrick, glancing at his watch. It was already around 10.30.

Catherine frowned and pulled her cell phone out of her bag. She flicked through the phone book and dialled Cheryl's number. There was no answer.

'Nick's not answering either,' frowned Warrick, as he hung up his phone.

Catherine shrugged, 'it's still early. Although, by looking at Greggo here, anyone would think it was later. Perhaps they're just running late. The rain is probably messing with the phone signal.'

---------------------------------

'What are you looking for?' Nick asked Cheryl. He was still pushing at the thing covering the hole.

She was on her hands and knees trying to find something in the water. Which was slowly rising. 'My phone.'

'Do you really expect it to work?'

'Nick, do you really expect to shift whatever it is covering us up?' She asked, as she searched the area around the body. 'And no, it probably won't work, but I will at least know it's here, and perhaps, when the others realise that we're missing, they can track it down.' She reached down and plucked it out of the water. Not only had the water destroyed it, it looked like one, or both of them had fallen on it and crushed it – the thing was that destroyed, she seriously doubted if they could locate them with it.

Cheryl sighed, 'I give up on phones. Since I moved back out to America as a CSI, I think I this is the ninth phone that has broken on me. They're going to refuse to pay the insurance on it soon.'

She turned her attention to the dead woman in front of her, and began searching the pockets.

'Now what are you doing?'

'I'm seeing if this woman has anything useful on her. Like a cell phone.' She didn't. There was nothing in her pockets at all – not even a penny. Cheryl sighed, 'they stripped her of everything before they dumped her. Either that, or she never had anything on her to start off with.'

After getting no response, she turned to face Nick – her eyes had become use to the dark enough to make him out. He was sat hyperventilating. Before she could get over to him, he flipped, getting up and pounding at the walls, clawing at the gaps with his fingers. But it was his anguished cries which scared Cheryl – with every scream, she could feel his pain.

Two chapters in one day... lol!