On Thursday night, it started to snow.
I was in the parking lot at the time, getting out of my Taurus, about to head into the warm interior of the Vegas Crime Lab. I felt something soft and wet touch my hair, and instantly I felt myself in fear of a passing bird. When my fingers came away frosty, however, I felt sure it wasn't bird poo that had crystallized on its way down to earth.
I looked up and was hit in the eye by a snowflake. It hurt. I scrubbed away the snow from my stinging eye and stopped in the middle of the lot, just watching as more and more flakes fluttered to the ground.
It was nearing the end of January. It shouldn't have been snowing. Still, I didn't mind the slight distraction that the weather offered.
Catherine had hit a dead end with Nick's hate-mail case. It turned out Kimberson Kosmetics sold to hundreds if not thousands of stores across the country, and even narrowing it down to Vegas left a margin of error a hundred stores wide. It would take forever to track down every single person who purchased nail polish remover, so Catherine abandoned the idea and decided to check out who had purchased the stuff online. That was turning out to be a dead end, too, since Catherine didn't have a warrant or reason enough to get one. "Oh, there was some of that stuff on a threatening letter sent to one of our staff" just wasn't a convincing enough argument for a judge, apparently.
So my so-called 'lead' had turned up nothing. Go figure. So much for making a good CSI. Not that I wanted to be one, anyway. I hadn't even worked in the Lab for more than a month and a half and already I was stressed out all the time, getting hardly any sleep, and my social life had gone out the window.
Woe. If it was so awful, how come I turned up for work sometimes a half hour early? a treacherous voice in my head asked. Got me there, self.
I sighed as I stood in the snow, letting the tiredness and the stress wash over me. Just for a moment, I forgot about the endless DNA samples, the photos of crime scenes, the unidentified substances, the fingerprints, the blood...Just for a moment, though. I was jerked back to reality by a hand on my shoulder.
I turned around to see Nick Stokes wearing a daggy, but warm-looking, grey sweater. He grinned at me. "You're all covered in snow," he said.
"Do you always have to state the obvious?" I asked dryly, brushing slowly-melting flakes off my arms and shoulders.
To my surprise, Nick reached out and brushed his hand through my hair. I shivered. "You had snow in your hair," he explained, though I didn't much mind even if he was lying. "You're early," he continued. "Shift doesn't start for another half-hour."
"I like to be on top of things," I said, shrugging. I noticed a devilish grin spread across Nick's face and blushed."'On top', huh?" he asked. My blush deepened. The guy was incorrigable!
"I didn't mean it like that," I huffed.
"I know," Nick laughed. "Come on, now we both have some spare time, I can finally get you to sit down for some – for a hot beverage of your choice," he said. "We got hot chocolate and tea in the Break Room, I think."
"Thanks, but-" I began, but Nick cut me off, grabbing my arm and gently steering me towards the lab doors.
"No excuses, little lady," he said, and the Southern title made me laugh. "You're gonna sit down and have a drink with me whether you like it or not."
He tugged me through the snow – which had already started to turn into rain – and into the Crime Lab. There was the usual bustle of activity, and no one noticed the CSI and the lab tech as they made their way through the chaos. That is, except the Evil Receptionist, who I felt glaring at the back of my head as we passed.
Since Night Shift hadn't officially begun yet, the lab was mostly empty of people I knew. The Break Room was empty as Nick dragged me inside and shut the door, blocking out the usual lab noises of people talking, machines whirring and test tubes clinking. "Alone at last," Nick enthused, spreading his arms.
"You have a real talent for choosing crap clothes, did you know that?" I said, staring at his grey-covered chest. "That sweater is the epitome of bad taste."
"Well, excuse me," Nick said, smiling. "I'm from Texas. We go for comfort first. I'd rather not be freezing my ass off out there just to look cool and end up cool...literally."
"Fair enough," I chirped, turning towards the kettle on the bench and flipping it on after making sure it was full of water.
"Nuh-uh," Nick said, barrelling forward and shoving himself in front of me. "I'll do the honours. What're you having?"
I stepped back, smiling a little. Texan chivalry at its best! "Tea, white, three sugars."
"Damn," he said. "Do you want to give yourself a coronary?"
"Tea with too much milk and sugar doesn't give you a coronary," I said. "Elevated blood sugar levels, maybe. You forgot you're talking to a molecular biology student, Nick."
"Got me there," he said, getting the milk from the bar fridge and making me up some tea. He turned and handed me the steaming mug a moment later. I sipped it.
"Perfect." I gave him a thumbs-up with my free hand, and settled onto one of the formless couches.
"Good." He fixed himself a coffee and sat next to me. Not too close, but not too far away either. I was beginning to wonder if Nick Stokes was...interested in me. Romantically. I was also beginning to wonder the same thing about me, for him. This sooo complicates things, I thought. Last thing I needed was an office romance!
"You look tired," Nick said, glancing over at me and taking a sip of his coffee. "How much sleep have you been getting?"
I shrugged. Apparently I wasn't the only one good at reading people. "Not much," I said truthfully. "I keep having weird dreams about this fhappy little field of bunnies and flowers and DNA chains and then Hodges comes along and eats the bunnies." I blinked. What a tool you are, I thought to myself.
Nick also blinked, and then laughed. "So you've run into Hodges, then?"
"It's kind of hard not to," I said, cradling the hot tea in my hands and sipping it slowly. It really was good. I wondered if Nick was a good cook, and my thoughts went further, wondering if I'd ever get to find out...Stop that! "He's a bit of an...um..." I didn't want to swearword in front of Nick, though anything less than an expletive could not describe Hodges.
"Ass?" Nick laughed, and I grinned."Yeah, that's the word," I said. I laughed into my tea, running out of things to talk about. So much for me being a people-person when I couldn't even handle talking to one ... person."So, Sadie," said Nick, saving the day once again. "What got you into forensic science?"
"Well, it wasn't forensic science specifically that I was interested in," I said, glad he had picked a topic I was at home with rather than.... Oh, I don't know. Bugs, maybe, but that was more a Grissom thing or so I'd heard. "I just wanted to learn how chemicals worked and the human body's chemical system and...stuff. So I went to college and got a BS and an MS. I don't think anyone expected me to do that well, really, my mom was surprised when I was offered a place here."
"You were offered a place?" said Nick, raising his dark brows. "Wow. That's quite an accomplishment. Sometimes it takes years for anybody to get a spot in the lab."
I shrugged modestly. I hadn't known that. "Well, I sort of put my résumé out there to all the labs and chemists, and one of them happened to be the Vegas Crime Lab. I never really intended to go around identifying semen stains all day, but...here I am."
"I'm glad," said Nick, smiling. I noticed how when he smiled, the crow's feet at the edges of his eyes creased up and the smile lines at the edges of his mouth became more pronounced. I liked Nick's face when he smiled.
"So am I, actually," I said, taking another gulp of the cooling tea. "It's pretty stressful, though. I don't know how you handle going to crime scenes and having to collect all the evidence and then come back here and get it all examined. Us lab techs have a pretty small role compared to yours."
"Yeah, but your role is an important one," Nick said, pointing a finger at me. "If it weren't for the extras, the set would be empty, right?"
I laughed. "Nice metaphor," I said.
Nick shrugged and grinned. "I try. Grissom's the master at metaphors, though."
"'The metaphor is probably the most fertile power possessed by man,'" a calm voice said from behind us. Both Nick and I turned to see Grissom standing in the doorway. The man was so damned quiet I hadn't even heard him come in! I wondered how long he had been standing there, probably a long time, judging by the smile on his face.
"What's that from?" asked Nick, raising his coffee mug in a salute to his boss. I did the same.
"Jose Ortega y Gasset," Grissom said, crossing to the coffee percolator. "The Dehumanisation of Art."
"Never heard of it," Nick said dismissively.
"I didn't think you would," said Grissom.
I realized I had completely forgotten to ask Nick about Kristy Hopkins, and God knows I couldn't do that with Grissom in the room. Oh well. It was probably better I didn't, I had a feeling the thing would touch a sore spot with Nick, as apparently this Kristy had kicked the bucket. I'd just have to do a little investigating of my own, later...
"How are you getting along, Sadie?" asked Grissom with his back to me, fixing coffee rapidly. "How do you like working here?" He was in Supervisor Mode, apparently.
"Oh, it's great," I enthused, perhaps a little over-the-top, for Nick gave me a frown. I shrugged. "Most of the time," I amended. "Working nights is harder than I thought."
"You get used to it," said Grissom.
"Yeah, I can't remember the last time I was awake during the day," laughed Nick, finishing off his coffee and getting up. Apparently our little tête-à-tête was over.
I just smiled and sipped my lukewarm tea as Grissom and Nick started talking shop about some case or other. I also remembered that I had forgotten to ask Nick about the letters...namely, if he'd gotten another one. I guessed not, though, judging from his carefree attitude.
I only wished I could feel the same about it.
To my surprise, I saw that Grissom had left abruptly during my daydreaming. I hadn't been paying attention to what they were saying, and I turned to see Nick still sitting next to me. He was looking at me with a strange expression.
I took a deep breath. It was now or never. "What happened with Kristy Hopkins?" I blurted. I knew this would ruin the mood of good-natured companionship, but I had to know. "I heard you and her...were involved. And she died."
Nick sighed deeply and looked away from me. "Greg told you, didn't he?"
"Greg and Warrick," I said, nervous, waiting for Nick to explode with anger or...something. Instead he just looked defeated.
"Oh, God," he muttered, avoiding my eyes. He was silent for a few moments before speaking, slowly, haltingly. "Kristy was.... a prostitute I met during a case." He turned to see my eyes go wide. "I didn't pay her or anything!" he said, offended. I let out a breath. "I helped her out a couple times," he continued reluctantly, seeming to think he owed me an explanation, "And...well... one thing led to another and we slept together."
He made it sound so scandalous, as if it never happened. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The guy probably thought I'd hate him, but I didn't. I waited for him to finish the story.
"She was killed the same night, by her...pimp, I guess. Day Shift thought I did it and Ecklie tried to pin it on me. I can't say I blame him; my DNA and fingerprints were everywhere. But Catherine got to the bottom of it." He shrugged and looked at my face. "You're right," he said, "I don't exactly have a great track record with women."
"Maybe you should try men?" I suggested, allowing the hint of a smile to spread across my lips. Nick looked at me, wide-eyed, apparently thinking I was serious; but when he saw my expression he laughed.
"Maybe." He looked away.
"Nick," I said, putting my hand on his. "You're a great guy, you know that?"
He looked
into my eyes, and then at my mouth. My breath hitched as he leaned
forward. He's going to kiss me! Now! Here! The walls are glass!
Everyone will see! Why do I care? He's going to kiss me!
"Nick,"
said an all-too-familiar voice. Nick jerked away from me as if he'd
been stung and turned to look at Grissom. Damn, that guy is quiet!
I thought, annoyed as all hell about it. "About that case," the
supervisor continued, walking back to the counter and dumping another
teaspoon of sugar into the coffee he still held. I looked away from
him as he glanced towards me. I wondered if my face was as red as it
felt.
I got up abruptly as Grissom and Nick started talking. I walked to the sink and washed out my cup, placing it in the drying rack. Without a glance back at Nick or Grissom, I left the room, to go elsewhere and wait for my embarrassment to subside.
That's the last time I'm going to have an up-close-and-personal with Nick Stokes!