5- "Introductions and Fuzzy Memories"


Taña Szmerka got off the plane and walked over to the baggage claim. While she waited for her luggage, she thought back, wondering how on earth she ended up in Las Vegas.

She was born in San Francisco, on May 7th, 1975, but had to move to San Gabriel when she was in third grade. Her parents were always classic examples of the perfect marriage, whatever that may be.

So she grew up a reject, a "nerd", never fitting into the crowd because of her focused concentration, her witty sense of humor and mature style was always a little above the "I just want to have fun" kids, but it did have an effect on her.

She learned to watch people, observe them, to see patterns, so she joined the FBI expecting to become a criminal profiler. Like a real one, not one used as a guinea pig in an experiment to help a guy she didn't even like look better.

To soften the blow, the FBI arranged an apartment in a run-down apartment complex, but it was better than apartment shopping in a city that she was totally unfamiliar with. She was far from a Vegas girl, and closer to a "quiet little rural town" sort of girl.

After unpacking, she drove her rented car over to the Las Vegas Crime Lab and prepared to meet her new crew. One of which would be able to boss her around like... Agent Johnson. Anyone could be better than him...

So she walked into the Lab, and Gil Grissom was there to meet her.


Whatever Grissom was expecting, it wasn't Agent Taña Szmerka.

She was short, around five four, with long, brown hair that seemed almost silky. She had dark black, sleek glasses and light olive skin. What stuck out on her were her bright brown eyes, which seemed so shrewd and like they were absorbing every little piece of information she saw.

From what Grissom had been told, she was top in her class, a Masters in Criminal Psychology, had already helped solve a case which involved a stalker.

She was attractive in an average way. Not unapproachable, just pretty, almost refined. He was told she was slightly asocial.

Like Sara, the words echoed in his brain before he could stop them.

No, she is not a replacement for Sara. You can't replace Sara.

"Agent Szmerka," Grissom said, extending his hand, and immediately took a liking for the first impression she engraved on him. She looked him straight in the eyes, something a lot of people avoid with a man like Grissom, and smiled a faint smile and said, "CSI Grissom Grissom. Pleased to meet you."

"Let me show you around. We have a Lab capable of processing enough evidence for over thirty cases at a time. I am the head CSI for Graveyard Shift, and a man of whom I doubt you would want to meet is the head of Day Shift. We have two main medical examiners, numerous Lab Techs, and currently the graveyard shift consists of four Level Three CSIs and one Level One CSI. I'll introduce you."

He walked into Auto Detail, where Warrick and Nick were spreading KY Jelly over the tires of a car to take the tire prints. They had gotten into some kind of slight argument, as Grissom and Taña could see by the big globs of Jelly all over their faces and hair. They saw them and immediately stood up, rock rigid, as if they were little boys just being caught in trouble. Taña noticed how they respected Grissom immediately, but the boyish grins on their faces showed a close friendship with the mysterious man.

"Agent Taña Szmerka, meet Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes. Warrick specializes in audio and visual analysis, and Nick boasts pretty good hair and fiber analysis. I would also like to note that they both lack in the automotive section. Boys, meet Agent Taña Szmerka."

They waved, showing greasy hands and still sporting the same smiles. She smiled, "Good to meet you, Mr. Stokes and Mr. Brown. I hope your investigation skills aren't so messy out in the field."

They blushed purposefully and continued on the work.

Grissom lead her back into the lab and over to the coroner's room.

"This is Doc Al Robbins, head Medical Examiner. Doc, this is our new criminal profiler, Agent Taña Szmerka." They exchanged greetings and then Grissom walked her over to the break room, where Catherine was just hanging up her cell phone.

"Agent Szmerka, this is Catherine Willows, specializes in blood spatter analysis. Catherine, this is Agent Taña Szmerka."

"Good to finally meet you. I am curious to see how this experiment works out." Catherine said as she shook Taña's hand.

Grissom wandered out in the lab and caught Greg with an innocent smile, grinning at Yvette, the replacement Lab Tech, who had a look of daggers. Greg leaned over to help her with the printer, and she exploded like a small atomic bomb.

"We can head over to the lab and we can meet our Level One, Greg Sanders. He was formerly our lab tech, and I am finding it harder to get him out of the lab now he carries a CSI badge."

"Greg who?" Taña asked, her head snapped around in an odd way.

"Sanders." Grissom pointed to Greg, who pressed one button and the printer finally worked, as Yvette threw up her arms in frustration and pointed to the door.

Taña began to turn slightly pink.

Grissom ignored that, perhaps his eyes were fooling him, and Greg walked right into them.

"Greg, I would like you to meet our new criminal profiler."

Greg turned his eyes to her and shook her hand, "Greg Sanders, baby CSI."

"Agent Taña Szmerka, real FBI agent," she said simply, and it was at that moment Greg looked into her eyes.

"Holy shit!" He said before he could stop himself, then backed up, "Taña?"

"Hello, Greg. Long time no see." She said, an unpleased look evident on her face.

"You look... you look really good, for someone who can magically disappear."

"You look good too, for someone who still looks like he did when he was in the third grade, and who takes his punches like a little girl."

Grissom looked wide-eyed between the two as they still stood, hands clasped, staring each other down.

"Anything you two would care to share? Or, dare to share?"

"Nothing, your CSI Level One is just a shallow, complete and total jackass."

She spun around and walked away, and Greg yelled back, "Maybe you ought to profile girls who are runaways!" He fumed for a minute, then stomped off in the other direction.

And for once, Grissom didn't say anything wise. He just stood there.


"Note to self: stop walking around."

-Garfield