A/N: For some great reason, you've decided to read the second chapter of this story.. Thankyou! Anyways, it's getting better this chapter- and if not, it will be next chapter. So I'll get started again…

Oh, and I'm SO sorry for this being late! Also, someone mentioned a symbol between scenes… You're totally right. I did have one, but for some reason it won't show up on the screen. I'll try to make another one this chapter.

P.S. Sorry if Mia gets a little out of character- I haven't really seen her much, and didn't really study her personality. Sorry bout that! (ok, I'll really start writing this time)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the CSI characters…

"You are so lucky." Greg said for what seemed like the millionth time since Sam had gotten in the car with him. She rolled her eyes as she opened her door and got out, not even bothering to respond once more. She had already wasted enough breath on the subject.

"Whatever. Where's the body?" Samantha asked, pulling a fresh pair of gloves out of the new forensics kit that Grissom had just given her. Greg shrugged.

"Most likely somewhere beyond the yellow tape."

"Oh really? I thought that it would be across the street from the all of the police cars." The woman replied sarcastically, taking out her flashlight to help her see while the sun started to set.

"That's where you're wrong."

The two entered the house, each carrying a metallic colored case. Samantha rose up her arm, flashing a circle of yellow light on the darkening house walls. This family diffidently wasn't poor. For a moment she had no clue where to look for the body- that was until she noticed that she was about to step in a pool of blood.

"Hey." She called out behind her towards Greg, crouching down and trailing the light of her flashlight along the length of the female's body, making sure that all of the victim's body parts were visibly intact. "I think I found the body."

"Really? I think I found the lights…" Greg muttered, trying to flick up the switch. Instantly a handful of sparks spat from the circuit, and a dying whirring sound could be heard. They had just lost all of the power.

"I don't see what use it is now," Sam smirked lightly, standing to her full height. It wasn't his fault- it probably would have done the same to her.

"Man, a battery powered lamp? How rich can someone get?"

"Money has no limits." Samantha replied as he pushed the button on the small lamp, illuminating the room. She raised her eyebrows slightly at the sight of the dead teenager on the floor- a girl that looked around seventeen. With her throat slashed. Greg didn't hesitate to start taking pictures from various angles; while Sam began searching for a weapon.

With a sigh Samantha stood up, searching once more in a drawer that the criminal could have "I can't find anything- but I can bet that we're probably looking for some sort of knife."

"Ah, all this while I was looking for a gun…" Greg muttered teasingly, taking the last picture. "Let's get this babe off to Al." He looked over to Sam, realizing that she didn't know who he was talking about. "Dr. Al Robbins, the Coroner." He explained, giving her a fake smile after she didn't respond.

"Sure, whatever- but first, tt's prints time." Sam said in an excited voice, just as fake as Greg's smile. At the words, they both opened their cases, withdrawing the fingerprint lifting gear. "You take the east side of the room, I'll take the west." She stated, taking charge of the situation. Greg didn't move.

"Right, well I didn't exactly bring a compass."

Sam nodded to the wall- each had a wooden plank with the cardinal direction written on it. It was the first time that she noticed all of the sea related décor; no doubt they were an active family that was into boating and-or fishing. "Rookie." Sam muttered jokingly, not realizing that he really was just recently turned into a field CSI.

"Ha ha." He replied, checking a few seemingly smudged prints. "I'm getting better." He admitted, giving up on the harmless prints an continuing on across the room, checking everything that could contain a print.

"Smudges, smudges- I've got nothing so far," Greg reported, leaning over into the blue light on the wall, squinting to see if he could find anything. He was close to being finished- almost to the center of the room.

"I've got one on the dresser; or whatever the hell you call this wooden thing." Samantha answered, rubbing the tape-like print-lifter on top of the wooden piece of furniture. When she was done, all that was left was a small tracing of a print on her equipment.

"I have no clue- but check this out." Greg didn't spend much time thinking it over- he didn't really care what the furniture's proper name was, as long as it contained evidence. He turned, nodding towards the wall that was labeled 'North'. "Guess I forgot to tell you earlier…"

"Guess so." Sam appeared at his side, at once noting the blood splatter on the wall- almost covering the oval shaped blood spots on the wall. Ten of them; it was no doubt a set of fingerprints when you looked closer. Then again, when Sam looked closer, she noticed that they were slightly normal than usual. It was as if whoever had left them had either been falling or drug downwards.

"Alright… I guess it's lab time then." She finished, after taking another picture of the fingerprints; just in case Greg hadn't caught in the right light. That was all that she needed; the whole case to be ruined by one simple mistake. Not that it happened often with her, or anyone that she knew for that matter; but she didn't want to risk it.

"I guess so." Greg replied, his once fake smile turning genuine. It was rare for him to meet someone who put up with him so easily- or at least so soon after meeting him. It had to have broken a record of some kind.

Back at the lab…

"You know, I never heard who discovered the body." Sam informed her partner on the case as she entered the lab, sitting in a chair beside him. "I know it might be hard for you to fess up, but you have to tell me this stuff. God knows if we'd ever solve this case with just you." She joked, but had no clue why. She had just met him- why would she say something like that?

"Right- and you know that how?" Greg asked, raising an eyebrow. "Just incase you forgot, you met me…" He glanced at the clock, pausing to count before he answered. "Four and a half hours ago. And her mom made the 911 call."

"Because it took you ten seconds to count to four." Sam answered the same teasing tone that he had used with her earlier. Then she made herself stop and focus on the pages in front of her. What did she think she was doing? She really didn't know Greg at all. Why was she having so much fun, cutting up on the job? "The mom? I didn't see her- must have been in interview. Makes sense."

Maybe it was just because that the CSI's in Chicago were so uptight; nothing like how Samantha wanted to be. But after a while, the crowd rubbed off on her. So maybe she could change back after all.

"Hello," Samantha jerked her head up at the voice of someone who had just entered the room- someone who she hadn't met before. In front of the table was an African American woman with gloves and the usual lab coat on. She smiled and nodded to Sam. "You must be the new girl- Mia Dickerson." Mia introduced herself, taking the blood samples from Greg.

"Oh, hi- Sam O'Brien." Samantha grinned in response, looking down at the folders in her hands. She glanced back up, handing Mia the appropriate one.

"You know, I was the new girl not too long ago." Mia talked as she opened the file, walking around the table and sitting behind the microscope. "I'll have these to you in the matter of a few days- on the nightshift alone I have nine different DNA samples to compare. A lot when you consider the normal income for the lab." She explained, while Sam nodded. She had never worked in the lab, but would act like she understood.

"Great- I'll go check the prints." Greg stood up, flashing the two another fake smile before leaving the room. Mia sighed and shook her head, her face only a few millimeters from the microscope.

"I guess I'll go check up with Grissom and get my locker." Samantha stood up, taking the remaining files on the edge of the desk. She lingered for a moment at the doorway, flipping through a few pages before she realized that she was still in the room. "Bye." She called over her shoulder to Mia, walking in the direction of where Catherine said that Grissom's office was.

Outside his office…

When Sam first saw Grissom for the second time, she was a little afraid to enter his office. The door was open, which was a welcome sign to Samantha- but for some reason Gil gave off a somewhat eerie aura.

So she stood there for a few moments, silent and watching her supervisor work. At least until she noticed that he had realized that she was there. Even then it was an awkward few moments before he spoke up.

"Can I help you?" He asked, still looking at the paper and writing on a few forms. Grissom looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "Sam- I thought you were someone else." He smirked, leaning back in his chair elegantly. "You need something?"

"Actually, yes- if you don't mind." Samantha replied, pulling the files closer and walking into his office. Slowly she took a seat in front of his desk, glancing around before she began to talk once more. "I was wondering about my locker…" She trailed off, not exactly thinking about mentioning anything else off the top of her mind.

"Your locker? Right," Gil leaned over, pulling a drawer out and a few papers out of it. "Here is one recently opened… Transferred to North Carolina off the day shift." He read off, handing the paper to her. "Anything else? Concerns about the case, questions about people, life?" He asked as Sam scanned the form.

"No, that's all I needed- Thanks." Samantha smiled broadly, standing up.

"No problem." Gil called after her as she exited the doorway, smirking to himself.

At the end of the shift…

"God." Sam muttered simply, letting her locker door close on its own. It was the first time in the past two days that the thought of her being homeless finally set in. Sure she had some pocket money from her last paycheck; but it was slithering through her hands quick from the cost of staying in a hotel every night. With a deep breath she leaned back slightly, looking up at the ceiling. She sat there for a while, staring at the long, rectangular lights. Until another voice caused her to jump.

It seemed as if that was happening to her a lot lately- people walking into a room and not being heard until they start to talk. To Sam that was somewhat scary- but she doubted that it would actually lead to her getting hurt anytime soon.

"Hey, what's up with you?"

Although Greg wasn't exactly the person that Sam wanted to talk to at the moment, it didn't hurt her to have someone to keep her company for a few seconds.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about stuff." Samantha answered, trying to fake a small smile. She failed terribly.

"Really? I think about stuff too." Greg joked, the witty smirk disappearing from his face as soon as he realized that something really was wrong- but had no clue how to address it; besides changing the subject. He just felt awkward in those situations. "So, have you met the nightshift crew?" He asked, opening his locker.

"Not yet. I've only met you, Catherine, and Grissom." Sam answered, looking back up at the lights. "And I met Mia too." She added, glancing over at the open door of his locker, which was blocking his face.

"You know, you don't have to trust me." He started, wondering where it came from, but deciding to go ahead and finish the speech. "We just met, I get that. But if something's wrong, I won't tell anyone." He closed his locker door just enough so he could turn his head and look at her. "It bothers me when people are depressed."

"I'm not depressed." Sam instantly defended, glancing down at her hands while she contemplated what to do. Should she tell him? She had no knowledge if he was telling the truth now or not; but the idea didn't really matter to her. She needed someone to pour her thoughts out to, and Greg looked like the only person around right now. Screw professional relationships.

"I'm homeless." Samantha let out with a quick breath, causing Greg to arch an eyebrow. "I don't know what to do and I'm living in a hotel. I don't know anyone and it's just time until I run out of money and have to live on the streets." She confessed, running the sentences together so she could get it over with. It was surprising to her how much weight it lifted off her shoulders just to tell him about it.

"You're homeless?" Greg couldn't help but throw the idea out. There was no way how clean Sam was that she was homeless. Until she explained- then somehow it all seemed real to him. It must have been hard for her to go into that house, with all of the expensive furniture and paintings. But it was part of the job, and there was nothing Greg could do about that. "Ah, hotel hobo. Gotcha."

Samantha couldn't hold back the small glare that she casted in Greg's direction for the 'hobo' comment. It wasn't that the idea bothered her; it was that it was the truth. She sighed and looked back down at her wringing hands. "Yeah. You get to work with a hobo; wait 'till you tell your grandkids that."

"Oh, believe me- I will. But one question: you don't know people? Man, you know me." Greg slammed his locker shut and climbed over the bench, sitting down beside her. "And the hotels around here? They're killer… I can't believe you've lasted this long."

Sam couldn't suppress a weak smile. It was 'killer'. "I know what you mean. They're murdering my bank account." She admitted. "And I really don't know you Greg. We just met not even a day ago."

"So? Sue me for being nice." Greg muttered in reply, a joke- but neither one of them found it funny; at least not on the outside.

"I don't do this often, ok- but then again, I don't meet homeless hobo chicks often either." He winked at her, quitting when he figured out he wasn't going to get a laugh. "Alright- this might be the chemicals in the lab talking, or this might be me. But I wouldn't mind if you spent the night at my place for a while; you know, me on the couch and you taking over the bed if you want." He shrugged, causing Samantha to scoot away from him; that and the words that had just come out of his mouth.

"But this leads back to the trust issue. You can trust me if you want, Sam- but if you don't want to, I can totally understand that." Greg paused to look at her. "And you can live in a hotel for the next couple of days." He leaned back on his hands, mimicking the position that she was in when he had entered the room. "You know how life would be- getting to marry Billy Wang Joe, the guy who collects coats that rats have ate through."

"Yeah, I- psh, whatever." Samantha answered to the hotel statement, not yet ready to reply to his offer. She had no clue what she should do- a part of her wanted to say yes, but there was the 'trust issue' and the idea of Grissom finding out. 'Not really the best impression you could leave.' If it would have been Catherine, Mia, or another woman, it wouldn't be too hard for her to agree. Yet this was Greg, and probably didn't have the best reputation around. Her conscious whispered loudly to her; but for once, she ignored her mind and did what her heart wanted to do.

"Alright- but have this clear. I'm not your girlfriend, we are not dating; I'm not your whore or any of that good stuff." Samantha explained sternly, narrowing her eyes for a fear effect. Greg grinned.

Greg raised an eyebrow about the 'good stuff', but the decision hit him like a brick. "So that's it- you're deciding to come live with me?" He asked, in what seemed like a genuine excited voice. Samantha shook her head as she grabbed her purse.

"No, I'm not choosing to go with you. I'm choosing not to stay in the hotel." Although she was had been trying to make the point clear to him that there was nothing between them; she couldn't help but add a little humor to it. "But if you look at it that way, sure."

At Greg's pad…

"You live in an apartment?" Sam asked in a slightly disgusted, but more surprised tone. There was nothing wrong with apartments- the disgust came from how unclean the outside hallway seemed. She shook her head. "I just can't believe it. This isn't happening." In her hands were a few shopping bags and her purse- within which were her clothes and a few other personal items. The only things she actually needed to start most of her life over.

"God, I need to teach you some new words… That's all you've been saying since we left the lab."

A clever smirk appeared on Greg's face at his joke, it soon disappearing as he opened his door. "I like how cozy an apartment feels." He shook as if the feeling were so strong it made him shiver. Sam rolled her eyes.

"I really don't get it Greg. Why are you doing this? You don't know me, and you shouldn't care what happens to me. Why do you just open up your home like that?" Samantha asked as she walked into the surprisingly clean apartment.

"See, that's where you're wrong. I know that you're a good person, I just do. I can feel it. And I care, because you'll be a great addition to the team. Besides, women aren't supposed to be homeless. It's not cool." Greg explained, shutting the door behind her. "And that was the gayest crap I've ever remembered saying- but I meant it." He assured her, walking into what seemed like an open kitchen beside the room they were standing in; the living room.

Samantha looked around, noticing the contrast between the hall and his apartment. The light carpet, the comfy looking green couch- she would like it here. Samantha was a very cuddly woman.

Sam sighed. "You're just… I'll never get it, but Greg-" She started softly, waiting for him to enter the room once more. He raised an eyebrow, seeming to be slightly tired. Sam paused, taking a deep breath. "Thanks. Really- I have no clue…" She trailed off, but made sure that she was clearly sincere. She really didn't know where she would have turned out; or how she would pay him back.

"You don't have to do anything; really, it's a welcoming present I guess."

'A welcoming present…' Sam thought, smiling to herself. 'This place really is better…'

Later that night…

It took Samantha a few times to open her eyes, and a few more moments for them to focus. When she looked at the red-numbered alarm clock beside her, she thought it wasn't set right. Then she remembered that she was on the nightshift, and was only a few hours away from having to leave.

That was all that she actually noticed at the time. She was still tired from her first case the day before. As she thought about it- trying to think of what could have happened and such, she remembered a name… Greg? Then she remembered what had happened earlier that morning. 'It didn't happen, I didn't move in with him.' Her mind tried to convince itself, as she rolled over to look at the ceiling. 'I've had more vivid dreams about victims… It didn't happen.'

"No, it didn't." Sam muttered to herself, rolling back over and closing her eyes. The comforter that she was under was surprisingly comfortable for a hotel blanket, but maybe the maid had just come by.

"Man, are you talking in your sleep?"

Samantha screamed, only for a few seconds- a few long seconds. "What are you doing in here!" She whipped to her side, only to find the other side of the bed empty. With paranoia she analyzed the room, looking for someone else. A certain someone; maybe someone named Greg with a voice that came out of thin air.

A chuckle came from the closet. She never thought about the closet door; which was ajar, but he back of Greg's pants when he stepped backwards gave it away.

"Just in case you forgot, this is my room. And if you really need to know, I'm getting some clothes for tonight. We do work the nightshift." Greg answered, taking another step backwards and closing the small closet's door. "Speaking of which, I'm leaving in about two hours." He waited a few moments before he turned his head and looked at her. "What?" He asked innocently as Sam groggily sat up.

"Nothing. I just don't like the idea of waking up to you. And I'm hungry." She answered, yawning as she stretched her arms. She was wearing a comfortable little white tank top, with dark blue cotton pajama pants.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"About a day ago." It was true- Sam hadn't ate anything since the beginning of her shift the day before. She was somewhat glad; she knew that she might have gotten sick on her first day. But now she meant to replace all of the nutrients that she had lost over the last 24 hours.

"That's stupid."

It was stupid. Everything was stupid. Her living with a guy that she had met only the day before- that was stupid. The idea of her new boss actually liking it; and just her whole life. It was stupid. She had made mistakes, and hopefully she could fix them. Maybe that's why she felt such a great friendship with Greg already. He seemed the most likely to help her fix things; and maybe even to help her pick up the fallen pieces of her life.