Disclaimer: Don't own CSI.

"What the hell is going on?" I growled, marching into the waiting room. DB and Nick were talking quickly with a receptionist, and Morgan was on the phone with someone.

"There was an accident," Nick filled me in, craning his neck so he could see where they were continuing to wheel him further away. "We were at a scene, he tagged along because Trace was running slow today. They got the guy, Lexi."

"I am so fucking tired of everyone getting hurt!" I seethed, clenching my hands into fists. "I have never dealt with a crime lab that had so many people get hurt! Greg, Sara, now Hodges!"

"Hey, calm down," Nick warned, and I rolled my eyes. "No one likes it either."

"Well no one does anything, Nick!" I screamed, poking a finger in his chest. "I don't know if you've maybe been drunk the past 4 months, but everyone just gets hurt and-"

I was cut off by someone leading me away quickly. I pushed them off, looking around to see I was in the hallway. I glared up at Greg, who was crossing his arms. "You can't say stuff like that. And it's not Nick's fault," he said quietly, and I scoffed.

"Wasn't he supposed to make sure they cleared the freaking scene?" I shouted, and Greg reached out to take my hand. I stepped back though. "Don't even try Greg. I'm thoroughly pissed and kissing me isn't going to take that away."

He stared at me blankly before sighing. "I think you need some fresh air."

I rolled my eyes and took off down the hallway, heading for the staircase. I don't think I'd ever felt so much rage inside of me since my mother had blown up on me. I was sick of everyone getting hurt. We were criminalists, not cops. And even cops didn't get hurt to the amount that everyone else-

"Yo, Smith," a voice called, and I looked up from where I was halfway down the staircase. And standing in front of me, a skinny kid with baggy jeans and backwards hat stood crossing his arms. "We spoke on the phone earlier."

"Yes," I remembered, nodding. "You're Dre Bullimer."

"Correct," he answered, and paused. "That your boy up in there?"

"With the gunshot wound? Yes," I replied, raising a suspicious eyebrow. "Why?"

"I got some information for you about that," he said quietly, and motioned for me to walk with him. I felt to make sure my gun was with me, and he chuckled. "I ain't gonna kill you, now hurry up."

"O-Okay," I stuttered, and walked quickly over to where he was leaving the hospital. "Sorry for being stereotypical, it's just that-"

"I look like a no good thug, believe me lady, I get it," he said with a small smile. "I hear it all the time."

"What information do you have?" I asked wearily, running a hand through my hair.

"There is a way to compromise," he told me seriously. "The price might be high, but it's doable."

"How- how did you know I would be here?" I asked quietly, and he smirked. "We had agreed to meet up elsewhere."

"I heard shots from your buddies scene down the street. I followed them here, figured you'd be with em," he pursed his lips and pondered the thought of something. "You remind me of my little sister, Lilly. She was kind of an angry person like you."

"I'm not an angry person," I pointed out. "I'm angry at the situation. Because of your little hoodrat buddies, two of my friends are in the flipping hospital."

"Look, they're not my buddies, they're not my friends. I have nothing to do with them besides transport information between the two of you." He said firmly, and I glanced over at him.

"Did Lilly ever scream at her friends for something that's not even their fault?" I muttered so quietly I barely heard it myself. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and still walking at the same time. The street lights made it apparent how much he looked like Drew, same pale with skin and blonde hair.

"Lilly's a rough girl," he decided, pursing his lips. "She gets in fights, she makes people wish they were dead. And she is very good at standing up for herself and what she thinks is right."

"Good qualities," I mumbled, and he chuckled. "The last ones."

"Yeah, they are," he agreed, nodding. "Lilly's my baby sister, I've had to take care of her our whole lives. And when she turned 18, she ran off to college on a full scholarship with track."

"You're really more educated than you let off, Dre," I said distantly. "Why choose to appear as a thug?"

He shrugged. "You wanna know the compromise? That way you can get back to your little crime solving homies?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Of course I want to know. So spill."

"I don't know the details," he warned. "But I do know that it's money. And they want some of their dudes let off the chain. I'm assuming a reduced sentence or something."

I sighed. "The only times sentences are reduced or an inmate is let out early is either good behavior or they make a deal with the cops. All of their people haven't done that nor upheld appropriate behavior."

"You read their files daily or something?" he asked, sounding slightly impressed. "I wouldn't even know that shit."

"Yeah, you probably wouldn't," I mused, and bit my lip. "You got a phone number for me?"

"Yeah," he answered, and stuck his hand down into his baggy jeans pocket. "I made sure they understood that you were willing to do all sorts of shit to get them to leave your people alone."

"Dre," I said, clenching my jaw. "Why…why did they shoot my friend? He's a lab technician, he's rarely in the field, though he has been on the occasions that they shoot at us, oddly enough."

"Honestly?" he said, looking around. "I don't have a clue. They may have thought he was dating their girl or something. Or he could have been shot on accident, maybe they were aiming for someone else."

"Mhm," I hummed, playing with the ends of my hair. "But I can't figure out why they're so dead set on getting their revenge."

"Gangsters are like they were back in the olden days," he said, seeming to think. "You're dealing with a case of badass wannabe gangsters. Real gangsters don't screw with this type of shit, they avoid the coppers as much as they can."

"But wannabe's always pick fights whenever they get a chance," I filled in, and he nodded. "Thanks, Dre. For the number, and for helping me out."

"Hey, you're welcome," he said, and patted my shoulder. "You let me know if you get into any trouble around the hood, Smith. Little girl like you shouldn't be walking around those parts."

"I have a gun," I scoffed, and he raised an eyebrow. "And I have fantastic aim."

"Well a gun ain't no substitute for knowledge." was all he said, before walking down the alley. I stared at his retreating figure for a moment before turning around and walking away myself, wanting nothing more than to be with my team and apologize.

I hurried through the alley, back inside the hospital. The sterile smell revisited me, and I wrinkled my nose in distaste. I hauled ass up the stairs, hoping there had been some news on what they were going to do about Hodges.

"…he'd better be okay, Morgan," a voice hissed as I entered the waiting room. I looked to a back corner where Morgan was speaking with an older woman. I looked around, and spotting Greg, sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry," I said bluntly, and he turned to look at me. "For being a bitch."

He chuckled and held my hand, rubbing over the top of my knuckles. "It's alright, Lex. I felt the same way at first. It's not incredibly unusual for CSI's to get put in the line of danger, but not usually in such consecutive occurrences."

"Big words," I murmured, leaning my head on his shoulder in a peaceful silence. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, stroking my hair. "I don't exactly think you owe me the apology, Lex."

"Greg," I whined, and I felt his body shake in laughter. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," he responded, squeezing my hand. "Now hurry up, he's in Sara's room."

"Was there…was there an update on Hodges?" I asked quietly, and he bit the inside of his cheek. "I'll take as a no."

"Sorry," he said guiltily, and I smiled. "Maybe soon though."

"I'll be back!" I said dramatically, hurrying away into Sara's room and right past the receptionist, who held her hand up to stop me but put it down when I flashed my card at her.

"…and I bet he'll be fine, Sar." Nick was saying, him and DB flocked on either side of her bed. I cleared my throat awkwardly, leaning against the door frame.

They all looked up at me, and I fidgeted with my fingers nervously. "I just wanted to apologize for blowing up earlier. Hodges just kind of…put me over the edges," I explained, and looked up at the ceiling. "If you guys are willing to forgive me, I think I may have a possible solution to our problems."

DB and Nick exchanged a glance. "It's fine, Lexi," DB finally answered, and Nick nodded. "Things get emotional. It's all part of the job."

"And a solution does sound nice," Nick muttered, and motioned to Sara. "This happening all the time is exhausting."

"Yes," I agreed, and pulled the number out of my pocket. "We're going to need a negotiator."

….

"Is this Mr. Horace Malcom?" Trevor, our negotiator, read off calmly. There was a loud laughing in the background as we sat in one of the interrogation rooms, everyone gathered around the table.

"Little bitch used my real name!" a guy cackled, and I rolled my eyes.

"So I'm assuming that I'm speaking with Horace Malcolm?" he asked again, and the laughing died down.

"Depends what about," the guy answered rudely. "I done paid all my taxes."

"That isn't the concern, Mr. Malcom," Trevor clarified. "We are calling about your gang's targeting of the seven CSI's from around the country."

"Didn't I tell you they'd find our number and call, Diddy?" Malcolm asked someone, laughing hysterically. "Yes, we are involved in that. We've got big plans."

I gritted my teeth at the sound of joy in his voice. "I have been told there is a possibility of compromise, Mr. Malcolm."

"Can't stand these bitches!" Malcolm exclaimed. "Call em M, okay?"

"Yes, okay, M," Trevor agreed, appearing irritated. "I have called to discuss compromise."

I squeezed Greg's hand in hopefulness. "They wanna meet in the middle, Diddy," Malcolm sighed. "How did you find out about this?"

"A CSI was given information, M." Trevor replied coolly.

"Who was it? And who gave it to em?"

I felt eyes fall on me, and I hesitantly motioned for Trevor to speak. "The CSI is Lexi Smith, she was in contact with Dre Bullimer."

"I knew that punk was a snitch," a voice in the background said, but Malcolm shushed him.

"Yeah, we wanna figure something out with ya'll. Don't get me wrong, I love killing off members of your high society law enforcement shit," he said, and paused momentarily. "But I think there comes a time when you have to say that enough is enough."

"I agree, M," Trevor said smoothly, not even skipping a beat. "What's your price?"

"You're gonna let my boys go," Malcolm answered, and I cringed, knowing that that was what he'd ask for. I laid my head onto Greg's shoulder in defeat, my eyes drifting to what Brass would say.

"We can't let all of them go, M," Brass spoke up. "What about money?"

"I can always use a little extra cash," he considered, and sighed. "But I want my boys. Sorry."

"Tell you what, how bout you get both? A little bit of many and a few boys?" Brass asked, and there was a long pause. I held my breath, awaiting an answer.

"We pick what boys we want," he replied coldly, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "And if there are any unspoken attatchments, you can bet your ass we'll kill her."

"No unspoken attachments, M," Trevor promised, and I listened to Greg's heartbeat. "How much money are we talking?"

"I don't need much. I'm wealthy now, with all the money I've received through drugs and stuff." He chuckled pointedly. "All the drugs you never caught anyone for. What great cops you are."

"A price, M." Trevor reminded him, and Malcolm gave a dramatic sigh.

"I'll let you know." He said shortly, and the phone hung up. Greg began to stand up with everyone else, pulling me up with him. I stumbled sleepily, knowing that I had been deprived of that the last 28 hours straight.

"I'm taking Lexi home to sleep," Greg called out, and I shook my head.

"I'm perfectly fine," I mumbled, my drooping eyelids not really helping. I tore away from Greg, only to run straight into the wall.

"Drunk or tired?" Nick asked playfully as Greg helped me up from the ground.

"Neither!" I insisted dryly. Greg rolled his eyes and led me away.

"Come on, sleepy head," he murmured in my ear as we got into his Denali. "You need some rest."

"Not tired," I said lamely, and he chuckled as he drove out of the parking garage. "Are we almost home?"

He sighed and glanced over at me. "Lex, I do love you, but you need to get more sleep."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I grumbled, fighting to keep my eyes open.

He didn't answer, and the rest of the drive was in silence. The minute our car stopped in the driveway, I flung the door open, jumping out quickly and nearly falling. I tried to keep balance as I walked up the door, Greg hurrying to make sure I didn't trip. "Come on, we're almost to bed."

"Need to change," I managed to slur out, gripping onto the staircase railing. "Not sleeping in clothes."

"Just…come on," he said, taking a deep breath and opening the door to our room. He laid me down on the bed, and I wanted to swoon at the comfort. "You still wanna change?"

"T shirt and shorts in drawer," I called out to him loudly, and I heard a drawer opening. "I want the pink shirt."

"Is this my payback for you dragging me up here the other night?" he asked under his breath.

"I'm not drunk, there's a difference." I reminded him, and he sat down on the bed next to me.

"Here, Lex," he said, handing me clothes. "Got the pink shirt and all."

"Oh good," I replied, ripping my shirt and bra off, not really thinking and throwing them onto the ground. I slipped the pink shirt on, catching Greg's gaping gaze. "Close your mouth."

"Sorry," he muttered, pulling off his own shirt and pants, climbing into bed next to me. "You're just so-"

"I'm tired," I interrupted, and could hear his laugh distantly. He leaned over and kissed my cheek softly. I think I went to turn around and face him, but darkness crowded me as I fell asleep.

….

"Glad to see that someone's back and awake," Russell commented as I walked into the break room. I smiled to myself as I poured my coffee, comfortably settling into a chair. "Hodges woke up this morning."

"He did?" I asked in surprise, and DB nodded. "Well unfortunately, no one even gave me an update on his health."

"It was…close," he said stiffly, and I raised an eyebrow. "Bullet was 6 inches away from his heart, another 5 and he'd be dead."

"God, have they called back yet?" I groaned, taking a moment to sip my coffee.

"No," DB responded dully. "It's like they're avoiding us."

"Or they're thinking," I said hopefully, and he seemed to consider this.

"Lexi, there's a 419 that Ecklie wants us to hurry up and go to," Greg said breathlessly as he entered the break room. I looked at Russell, who just shrugged.

"Ecklie's handing out assignments now?" I questioned, standing up and taking my coffee with me.

"I need a break too!" he defended as I went with Greg out of the break room.

"Don't worry, we get it!" I called back, heading for the locker room with Greg. Entering the room, I froze on the spot. Looking in front of me, I could see none other than Derek Runnels, my former Supervisor and current Supervisor of the Denver Crime Lab, standing with a stethoscope right next to Greg's locker.

"What the hell are you doing?" Greg asked bluntly, and the short and plump man froze. "Yes, I'm talking to you. And you're in a crime lab, so you're busted for this anyways."

He sighed deflatedly. "I was breaking into your locker, yes, Mr. Sanders."

"Way to admit it, Runnells," I snorted, heading for my own locker. "I think that gives you a class D Felony for theft, correct? Since you stole my vest?"

"I did it to make it a little lighthearted around here," he muttered disappointedly, and I laughed to myself. "What are you laughing at, Smith?"

"The fact that you thought you could get away with this," I said, pointing to Greg's locker. "When there are a hundred CSI's and even lab rights staying with our crime lab at the moment."

"Are you really gonna press charges, Smith?" he asked me seriously, and I shrugged. "Would you really do that to your old Supervisor?"

"Ah, yes, I would," I clarified, smirking over at an amused Greg. "Not today though, Runnells. Give me my stuff back."

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out my gun and vest, handing them to me. "And here we though Lexi's locker had been a crime scene," Greg said, pointing to Derek's gloves. "Which would explain why we couldn't get prints off the locker."

"Yes, it would," he said with a clenched jaw, watching as I zipped my vest up and fastened my old gun in its holster. "You guys off to a case, Smith?"

"Yeah, we are," I answered smoothly, walking out the door with Greg. He took my hand unnoticeably and led me down the hall. As soon as we were outside of the crime lab and even past Judy's wandering eye, he turned me around and shoved me against a wall.

"You do know that I love you, right?" he chuckled, his mint scented breath hitting my face. I blushed and nodded, reaching up to kiss him softly on the lips.

"What part of 'lay off the PDA' do you not understand, Smith?" a voice barked, and I jumped, hitting Greg's forehead. We both laughed nervously and turned to face an irritated Ecklie. "Couldn't even wait until you got to the car?"

"I…guess not?" I tried, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Sorry, Ecklie. Won't happen again."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he grumbled, and I started walking towards the parking lot again, Greg right beside me. The silence between us was comfortable as I sat in the passengers seat, fumbling with the seatbelt once again.

"Damn this!" I cried out in frustration as Greg drove down the road. "You need a new freaking seatbelt!"

"Sorry," Greg said half-heartedly, and I rolled my eyes. "You wanna go see Hodges after this scene? I figured if we stopped by for a little while it wouldn't hurt."

"Yeah, that sounds nice," I said, leaning back in my seat. "Where is our scene, anyways?"

"Well, Nick's meeting us there," he informed me. "But we're heading to the hood."

I watched as he involuntarily shuddered for a moment, and I placed a hand on his arm. "You hate the hood?"

"When I first got hired on as CSI, and we had this case in the hood, we were shot at. Then we found a child whose body had been shoved in a plastic container after he was starved to death." He said angrily, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"Going to assume that you really don't like it then," I suggested, and he nodded. "Yeah, I hated the ghetto in San Diego. Of course it was really more a beach hermit hangout, but still. They had their trashy gangbangers."

"I just…I guess I never understood how someone could treat a kid that way," he explained, taking a turn. "Why would you even starve a person to death, let alone a kid?"

"Only if you were a sick bastard," I answered, and he smirked. "It's true. Whenever we had child abuse cases in Phoenix, it always struck a cord with my friend Emerie. She could always sniff out the bad ones."

"And it never bothered you?" he asked in disbelief. "With a past like your own, you remained neutral?"

"I never said that," I reminded him. "It didn't hit me as hard as Emerie, she loved kids more than I did. As I've said, kids hate me."

"Our kids won't," he promised, parking the car in front of the caution tape. I turned and looked at him as he switched the car off. "What?"

"You just…know what to say," I mused, and he grinned.

We both stepped out of the car, kits in hand, and approached the crime scene. Lying face down was a white male, and Dave was checking him over. "Greg, help me roll him?"

"Yeah," Greg said, and set his kit down. He and David carefully rolled the man over, and for what seemed like the 50th time that week, my breath caught.

I knew the man lying on the ground.

And it was Dre Bullimer.

A/N: 3 chapters left. Wtf.

Sorry for the short chapter, I just felt like I should end it there. You understand, right? No, of course you don't, you just hate me for ending it early. Yeahh, I get it.

So what did we think of Dre, even though I just now killed him off? I thought it was good for Lexi to connect to him momentarily and he was a good way to get an information source.

Sleepy Lexi? Hehe that part was fun to write!:) I thought we might need some humor in the grave light I have shone onto this story!

HODGESSS! MY BABY!

He'll be okay, and we're going to visit him next chapter, get the whole scoop! Hold you horses people, I will tie all knots together in the end! Gahh!

…I just like having loose laces until the very last minute.:)

Once again apologizing for the short chapter. :/

But…

REVIEW! REVIEW!

Thanks readers and reviewers alike, you all rock!:)