…Seven…Eight…Nine…

Greg Sanders once again found himself counting scuffs on the conference room walls. He knew this type of thing shouldn't capture his attention as much as it did; but for reasons unknown to him, he couldn't keep his mind on what Grissom was saying.

Again.

At any rate, Grissom wasn't saying anything that Greg didn't already know. Eckly was coming down hard on them, there should be more evidence, go back to the house again...blah blah blah. So far they had found three bodies: nameless victims robbed of their most identifying characteristics – faces and fingerprints. There were no matches in dental records, no links to missing persons….it seemed that these three women had fallen off the face of the earth.

Greg's eye lids fluttered. He squirmed in his chair and took a swig of lukewarm water. Grissom would kill him – probably literally – if he fell asleep in a meeting.

"…So, I've called in the favor of an old friend from the East Coast," Grissom shuffled some papers. "She's an authority in her field of forensic anthropology and may be able to give us some insight. Her plane lands later this afternoon…Greg, I want you to assist Ms. Monroe when she gets in. Give her the details of the case."

Greg sighed, but nodded his head. It was depressing enough that the CSI team couldn't find any answers – now Eckly was going to think that they couldn't handle themselves without help from another lab. Great.

After the meeting ended, Greg sulked over to the pop machine and shoved in a dollar bill. He cast a sideways glance at Nick Stokes. "Looks like I'm the lucky winner."

Nick laughed. "Don't you wish that Grissom had some young friends?"

"How weird is it that her last name is Monroe?" Greg grabbed his pop and cracked the tab. "You like she might be some, like, weird look alike?"

"I wouldn't put it past Grissom."

Later that afternoon, Greg lazily leaned against the reception counter and tapped his pen against a stack of pamphlets. Usually there was some perky receptionist wasting time behind the counter that he could flirt with – no such luck today.

"Any sign of her?" Nick checked his watch. "I didn't miss her already, did I?"

"No," Greg eyed Nick suspiciously. "Dude, do you want to show her around? I'll trade you."

Nick waved his hands. "No, no, it's all you, buddy. I just want to watch."

"You just want to mock me."

"Well, that too," Nick smirked. "Maybe you and Grissom can double date."

"Excuse me."

Greg looked up and promptly dropped his pen on the floor. The young woman he was looking – okay staring – at had the most gorgeous blue eyes he had ever seem. Not to mention the rest of her….

"Can I….help you?" Greg managed to gasp out.

She raised her eyebrows at him quizzically. "I'm looking for Gill Grissom…he's expecting me. I'm Madison Monroe…"

Greg's heart nearly stopped. "Oh, you're Miss Monroe? Oh…um…"

Madison nervously tugged on a strand of her nearly shoulder length brown hair. "Am I in the right place? Okay, I thought this was Building 48, but I could have taken a wrong turn…"

"Madison!"

Grissom was pushing his way over to her, seemingly ignoring the fact he had already told Greg to wait for her.

"There you are!" Madison threw her arms around Grissom's neck and stood on her tiptoes to rest her chin on his shoulder. "I thought I had the wrong building!"

"I'm so glad that you had the time to give me your expert opinion!" Greg had never seen Grissom look quite as happy as he did at that moment. "How's your mother?"

"She's great!" Madison studied Grissom's face. "You grew a beard. That's suspicious Gill, very suspicious. More bar fights, I hope?"

Grissom laughed. "Let me introduce you to some of the people you'll be working with. This is Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders."

"If there's anything we can do to help you out, just ask!" Nick flashed her a charming grin. "I know some great restaurants around here!"

Greg inwardly groaned. Nick needed to be hosed down.

"Greg, why don't you show Ms. Monroe to the lab and get her set up?"

White tank top…tight jeans…white tank top…tight jeans…

"Greg."

"Yeah," Greg snapped back to attention. "Right this way!"

They walked in uncomfortable silence to the elevator and Greg momentarily panicked that he wouldn't be able to find his way to the lab. He recovered and cast a sideways glance at her. "So…have you been to Vegas before?"

She shook her head. "No, but I've always wanted to."

Silence.

"Soo…Miss Monroe…what has Grissom – "

"You can call me Madison," she smiled shyly at him. "Yeah, I'm a dork. Named after two former presidents."

Greg smiled back at her. "Okay then, Madison, what has Grissom told you about the case."

"Basically that you're screwed."

"Pretty much, yeah."

She laughed. "Okay, well, point me in the direction of some bones and we'll rock on from there!"

He felt his pulse quicken slightly. It was a damn good thing he didn't trade with Nick after all….Madison seemed like she could be a lot of fun.

Either that, or a lot of trouble.