Summary: A serial killer comes to town on the boy's night to work. Things don't go calmly for Nick or Warrick when the killer decided to not play nice.

Disclaimer: This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

Author's Notes: I have been watching a lot of CSI reruns and suddenly have some time on my hands. I wanted to try to write something modern with some angst and drama to it. I hope I can get accomplish my goals with this peace and entertain some people along the way as well. Any help anyone can offer will be most appreciated. I promise to offer some laughs, so suspense, and hopefully, a couple of good cliffhangers for ya. I will not set a schedule for posting this because I probably will not be able to keep it. A couple of chapters are done and I know where this is going so it should come along nicely. Hope you enjoy!

Breath for me

Written by: duffshel

#1

The body was hard to move. Ken Ewing shook his head in disgust. He knew he should have killed her outside the damn hotel room. The death freeze had taken hold of her limbs and made it nearly impossible to make her fit out the door. She just had to curl up on herself in self defense. He never understood the point of that one. Defense or not, she was destined to die.

Ken cracked his neck with a quick jerk to the right and rolled his shoulders. It was going to take a little more work this time. After so many murders, he really should be used to things by now. But this one was not planned. This one just came up. He always liked free opportunities.

The girl was no one he had ever come across before. He had never been to New York and doubted she had ever visited the great state of Texas. Nope, he had never come across this Heather before tonight. Stupid little college girl.

The bed sheet was nothing special. It was a standard one used by the cheapest hotels in America. Ken had a feeling the it couldn't have cost this place more then twenty bucks a pack. This place was the Beverly Hills of vermin. And it was the cheapest dive he could find in Las Vegas. He didn't have the money to main and kill on the strip after all.

Heather was better looking post-mortem. The blue really brought out her pouty little lips. But she had no worries, Ken only raped the breathing. Death always made humans look surreal and beautiful, but not enough to make his shove his cock up into them. He preferred warmth to clammy and cold.

Sighing, Ken got up from the bed after his little break. He had once again waited too long. This is exactly what happened in San Diego. That bitch had been stiffer than a board and he had to break her almost in half to get her into his rental. Heather wasn't quite as bad, but would be soon enough.

The leather gloves clung to his skin nicely. They had to been constructed for this kind of work. They never got dirty and never left anything behind. Ken had to laugh to himself on that one. The cops were probably pulling their hair out over that fact. Ten states with no warrants or leads on the twenty three random murders was impressive.

Reaching down slowly, Ken gathered up some of the dark black hair that spilled out over the pale brown carpet. Her body shifted and jerked as he pulled the hair in the direction of the door. His latest rental was waiting right out in front of the door. The chick was not heavy by any means, but it still got Ken breathing hard. The body jumped nicely over the doorstop though. Ken had to smile at that good luck.

The Ford Five-hundred stood like a valiant stallion in the street light. It was a nice blue color. He would have to remember it. One day he would own his own car in that color. The trunk popped open with the press of a button. Nice and simple. Ken liked it like that.

Heather fell into the large holding area with a dull thud. Her damn legs didn't seem to bend like he was hoping. Sure enough, Ken had to crack her knees to get them in. The sheet he had thrown over his shoulder flapped slightly in the wind. He grabbed it and threw it over the body and tucked in like it was a bed. Ken had never liked putting it under the body in the trunk. It was something he really couldn't explain. A quirk one could call it.

Ken couldn't help, but to stand back for a moment and take in this new achievement. He was a man of pride and dedication. His father had always taught him to do things right. Of course, right wasn't always an option on a quick job. Ken had gone to college. He had known that girls were taught to walk in groups home at night from the library. There was always that little risk of the big, bad serial killer coming out of the night and swooping them into their arms of death. Heather obviously skipped that lesson.

With a careless pull, the trunk closed of the still, cooling body. Ken walked briskly back into the hotel room. He needed to check some things over before he would figure out where to get rid of his little trollop. The carpet where her last breath happened showed nothing, no blood. That was not his style. Blood was a pain in the ass to get out from under the nails. Strangling was always so much more fun, much more intimate. They say that only friends and family strangle each other in some parts of the country. Ken found that to be complete and utter crap.

His belt still laid on the bed where he had placed it. The leather still looked as good as the day he had purchased it from the little shop right over the border in Mexico. Ken stroked it with love. The ten pesos it cost him was well paid off. Many a women had gripped for the cow hide in desperation at the end. It always slid right back in the loops of his jeans as if nothing had ever happened.

There was nothing in the room, but the stuff the hotel rammed into it. His bags never left the rental. Nothing was left on purpose for the idiot cops to find, but Ken would be damned before he would get on his hands and knees and pick up hairs from the carpet. He had no record. His fingerprints had never been taken. The only thing in existence was a driver's license under a different name, his real name, his innocent name. Ken had never bothered to get it renewed or changed. He never speed or broke the law with a car anyways. He had some morals after all. Plus, he was cheap and it made no sense to him to pay for something such as that every few years.

With a satisfied smile, Ken turned on his heels back towards the door. He threw the key to the room and the floor in front of the window. The door closed with a thump. Keys jingled as he opened the driver's door of the Ford. The engine started with a nice purr. It was going to be a good day. He got a free kill and would be heading to the scheduled one soon enough.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The sun beat down on the black Tahoe with little mercy even in this late of an hour. Even the Texas sun was kind before sundown, but not here. Nick Stokes rubbed his right hand roughly across his scalp. There wasn't enough hair to really say he was brushing his fingers through it. The pavement disappeared under the front of the hood as he drove steadily towards the lab. His shift was about to start in twenty minutes.

The traffic was light and the drive was relaxing. It had been a rough couple days on the job. A case had taken too long to figure out and get ready for court. The evidence was stubborn and the suspect was a convincing liar. But the kid's killer would soon be behind bars. Nick was always glad when the kids got their justice.

The parking lot was not filled any longer. Day shift didn't seem to believe in overtime it seemed. He never understood that one himself. Maybe it was all the hours awake when it was black. It must make a person want to work overhaul.

His parking spot was waiting for him. Warrick's and Greg's trucks were already there. Nick shrugged his shoulders. Those two could be as early as the wanted to be. It didn't matter to him. It was just the guys on tonight anyways. Catherine and Sara had a rare shift off together and would be taking Lindsey shopping the following day for clothes.

Nick checked his clock on his radio. He was early enough. The sun was moving slowly down behind the lab building. The night would soon rule the City of Lights. He took his time in walking towards the entrance doors. There was some deep feeling that he couldn't shake that this was going to be a rough night.

The receptionist was as cheerful as always. She was on the phone with someone and chirping away at them. Nick smiled at her with his Texan charm. He never passed up a chance to smile at a woman, no matter who she was. His mama had taught him better than to disrespect a woman. All he got as a small nod back.

There was little commotion tonight. Not many people were moving around past all the walls of glass in the large space. He could make out a few people here and there, but no one looked to be in any hurry. His feet carried him in the direction of laughter at the end of the hall on the left. Greg was up to something already.

Warrick Brown and Greg Sanders were sitting at the large table in the conference room. They were both hunched over something that Nick couldn't see. He leaned himself up against the doorway to watch the scene play out in front of him. Those two were always good for a laugh.

"See Warrick, there is something about abs that women just go insane over. According to this article, the more defined the abs, the more a woman wants to sleep with the guy."

"As I have already asked, why are you and I having this discussion? Shouldn't you be talking with the Southern ladies man? He would know more about this than I would."

Greg laughed again. "Are you telling me that you are not what the ladies are looking for?" There was a slight pause. "Though I can see why they would pass you up for Nick anyways. Damn guy could charm anyone."

Nick smiled to himself. He moved quietly into the room more. He wanted to see what in the hell those two were going on about.

Warrick looked as if he were just slapped on the face. "Like I have ever lost a girl to that man. Please, they take one look at us and they make the smart choice to go with dark, tall, and handsome."

Greg reached down and turned the page on the magazine they were looking at. The two men leaned down to look closely at the pages once again. Nick was about to say something, but all that came out of his mouth was a gasp as a hand rested on his shoulder. He turned quickly to come face to face with Grissom.

"I see you all are here. Good. We have some work to do."

Just like Gil Grissom to get right down to business before even a hello. Nick rolled his eyes as he turned back towards his friends. They had a slightly embarrassed look on each of their faces. It was priceless and would have been worth some words in fun if their boss had just not walked into the room.

"I just got this report in. We have D.B. in Huntridge Circle Park. Nick, Warrick I want you two to go meet Brass there. It sounds like she was left in the water park. Brass will be waiting for you guys. Greg you are with me. We have two D.B.'s found by a neighbor in a house down on Bonanza. Bring some extra supplies along."

Grissom looked over his guys. The three looked ready for the long night that was coming. Greg looked a little nervous about having to work alone with the boss. Nick and Warrick were grinning. With a shake of his head, Gil turned and left the room trusting they to get moving right away.

"Sorry man, but it looks like you get stuck with Grissom tonight." Warrick slapped Greg on the back slightly as he walked past the younger man.

Greg just smiled, "Well, at least I will have someone to work with who can get a case done in one night. Good luck boys."

"Whatever, boss. Just don't make it so 'Rick and I have to come out and clean up your mess."

Nick smiled even broader as Greg flipped him off. That former lab tech was a riot and Nick was proud to call him a friend. Never a dull moment with him around and he made mouth-watering coffee.

"Hey Nicky, get the lead out!"

Warrick's voice carried through the door. The magazine the two men were looking at was still on the table. Nick didn't bother with it. He wanted to get to work on this case. That body had to get removed from that park as soon as possible. He didn't want to think what would happen if some kids went to play and found a corpse in the way.

It wasn't hard to catch up with Warrick before he went into the locker room. Both men walked straight to their lockers and got ready. Nick peeled off the shirt he had worn to the lab and changed it with a black t-shirt. His ever so famous hat fit nicely on his head. Warrick always made fun of him for wanting to wear the black hat with the words FORENSICS plastered across the front in bold white letters. There was never any real reason for it, but Nick preferred to wear the hat with his vest to most sites.

Warrick didn't take that long to get ready at all. He had worn what he wanted to wear for the rest of night from home. He wasn't like Nick in that respect. The man had style and was willing to wreck a few expensive shirts to look good on the job. Nick was pulling on his vest over the ever present black t-shirt. Warrick simply shook his head.

"So are we ready? The drive shouldn't be too bad."

"Nah, it will be a breeze to get there. I am sure Brass has things under control anyways. He will just claim we are in the way." Nick smirked as he checked over his gun. It was fully loaded and ready to go.

The two men walked out of the locker room and headed to the front entrance way. Both o them had their keys in their hands. Nick kept checking Warrick out in the corner of his eye. He had that gleam in his eyes, the same one they always had when they were getting ready to leave on a case together. The gleam of who was going to win the drive. It was a macho thing sure enough. Driver meant leader for some reason that Nick himself had yet to work out.

Warrick's truck was the closest to the door. He had claimed that parking spot almost immediately and no one was willing to take it from him. They had only seen the black man lose his temper a few times, but it was enough to make everyone not want to see it again. Only Nick seemed dumb enough to provoke him whenever possible. But of course, Warrick would never blow up on his "bro" for no real reason. Hell, he liked to push the Texan's buttons just as much.

The taller CSI lengthened out his strides and was to the driver's door of his truck in no time. Nick didn't bother to walk any faster. He rarely won this race. There was no tension or anger in the action. Truth be told, Nick didn't like to drive to cases. It was a good time to de-stress before seeing death.

"It looks like you get to ride shot gun again little amigo!" Warrick was grinning from ear to ear. He knew that Nick hated that name."

"Little!"

"Well you are kinda short, man. There is nothing I can do for ya on that, but I can assure you that I can reach the pedals."

"Just get in before I turn your head into a football!"

The two were smiling as they threw their gear into the back seat. Nick climbed into the truck first and took a good look at the floor. It appeared that Warrick was turning it into a diner once again. It was not healthy, attracts bugs. Nick shook his head.

"Have you ever heard of a trash can? I swear, this thing is a breeding ground for that crap Grissom is obsessed with."

Warrick pulled himself in with the steering wheel and took a good look around himself. It looked just fine to him. "There is nothing wrong in here Nicky. You are just being paranoid or something."

Nick carefully placed his feet on the floor mat trying to avoid the wrappers. He didn't want to know what is in any of them and was sure that it would take forever to get it off his boots. Warrick had started the engine and they were off with a jump. The wrappers shifted a little. Nick watched them closely.

The two men were quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. Out of the entire team, it could easily be said that these two were the closest. They had been through a lot together and had pulled the other up more than either of them could count. Nick had been there for Warrick when an "interest" had died and he tried to drown his sorrows at the tables. Warrick had been there for Nick after he had a gun shoved in his face by a woman that should have been on the good side. And there was also that whole Nigel Crane thing.

It was odd to see them together. There were many differences between the two and it was not something anyone could easily miss. They looked like polar opposites right down to their clothes of choice. Many would say their personalities should have caused a lot of clashed, but if anything, the differences brought them together even more. If one was lacking in one area, the other made up for it just fine. Both men knew there would be very little to get in the way of their friendship and work rivalries was not one of them.

Warrick kept turning to glance at Nick. The shorter man was still watching the floor with full attention. A smirk fell upon his lips. He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. The mirrors proved to be clear. With a quick twist of his arms, the truck lurched hard into the left lane. Nick was unprepared for the move and was promptly thrown into his window.

"What the fuck?"

Laughter filled the interior, "Damn that was good!"

Nick rubbed the side of his head. He had hit the glass, but not hard enough to do anything. It just was to anger him. As he shifted in his seat to yell at his friend, his feet moved. Something was able to ooze down his jean leg to the top of his boot. Horrified eyes turned south.

"Oh man! You got that damn shit on me 'Rick! Are you trying to add your body to the case tonight or what!"

Warrick was trying to curb in his laugher, but it was hard when all he could make out was the disgust on Nick's face. It had worked properly. He really didn't want to know what got on Nick either. The last time he had cleaned the truck out was not a date he could remember at that moment.

"Don't worry, bro. You can hose off at that park. You will be as good as new in no time."

"And you will be as good as dead. You had better drive slow man. The faster you go, the faster you get to your death!"

Warrick smirked and returned to the right lane. Their turn was coming up. He held the speed limit.

TBC….Until Next Time….