I'm still really sorry!

10 Years Later

Nick Stokes climbed out of bed. He started to pull the sheets up, a vain attempt to make the bedroom look clean. He looked at the other side of the bed, pristine and it was obvious that no one had slept in it. On the bedside table was a picture frame, and inside was a beautiful black-and-white picture of Sara from their wedding day. He wished she was here now.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash from the next room. He smiled. His son was a very graceful boy when it came to getting out of bed.

"Chris! Get out of bed one leg at a time man!" Nick called as he passed the door to the kitchen. He paused to look into the boy's bedroom. A pretty neat bedroom, except for the moving lump of blankets and comforters on the floor. A dark, crazy haired boy stuck his head out of the blankets.

"You know I prefer rolling out of bed," Chris said stubbornly. Still, he had to hide a pained face as he stretched out his sore, gangly limbs. He ran a hand through his hair, and checked it in the mirror. He threw himself a look and winked at his reflection.

Nick laughed. "Some people also use something called a comb." he headed to the kitchen, and started making toast and eggs. Over the years his cooking had improved greatly.

"I don't need a brush," Chris said confidently to his reflection. "Not when I have the magic, self styling hair." His hair had natural spikes in it, giving him an extra inch of height.

He walked into the small kitchen, pulling a carton of orange juice from the fridge. Closing the door, he studied the pictures. One of his mom, one of his mom and his dad, and a few of him. One was of him with a few friends at soccer camp. Chris was a big sports fanatic, but he wasn't very good at them himself. Which always struck him as odd, considering that his dad was a practical jock. All his life, both Nick and Chris figured that he had his mother's coordination. It was times like soccer camp that made him wonder what type of person his mom was. His dad and friends of the family mostly told him the pros of her life. He wanted to know if she was a nerd in school, like he was. Or was she more like his dad, and really strong and good at sports?

Twenty minutes later, all thoughts of his mom were off his mind as he walked to school with his friend Jordan. His dad left for work at the crime lab, and it was like every other day. First hour Algebra, second hour was some art class, and then gym class. He loved gym like the jock kids, but also feared it like the nerd kids. That day was going to be very different from the usual schedule.

Warrick Brown liked keeping himself busy. He wasn't a workaholic, but he liked the people he worked with. He was close with everybody, but it was days like today that he wished he wasn't. He saw that Nick had just arrived, and knew that he would have to tell him.

"Hey Warrick," Nick said, sitting across from him. "Grissom said we have a case?"

"Yeah, a bit of a cold case though," Warrick answered. "From about ten years ago," he added quietly. He pushed the case file across the table. "Remember those kids that were killed, it looked like a suicide?"

"Yeah," Nick muttered, skimming through the file. "What happened?"

"The surviving twin, Lee Marches, went to live with her aunt, Emily Lorden," he said.

"Wait," Nick said. "Why did she got to an aunt when her parents were alive?"

"She lived with them until last year. When she turned eighteen, she moved out to Vegas with Emily. When her parents returned from Hawaii they moved the rest of the family to Minnesota to be with some other relatives. For safety."

"I'm guessing something happened," was the only response Warrick received.

"Indeed it did. Emily is down in the morgue and Lee is back at the hospital."

"Then that's where we're going," Nick said. "But did the coroner find the COD?"

"Yep, a slash across the wrist. Lee got one too, but she survived again."

"She is starting to look like a suspect. Except, why would she have done in her siblings and baby sitter all those years ago?"

"I dunno. Let's just hope that it isn't her. I've met a lot of twins in my life. I haven't met many that would kill their twin. One fraternal twin murder case a few years back, but never identical."

"So," Nick started slowly, "she's both the most likely suspect, and the least likely."

"Exactly." Warrick said. "Except, she was nine at the time of the first murders, and a little kid overpowering a teenager? Not likely. But a nineteen year old overpowering an older woman, very likely."

"Great, criminals just love making it difficult."