Las Vegas
11:30AM
LVPD Crime Lab

The Las Vegas Police Department's Crime Lab was buzzing with activity as Grissom entered its blue-lit walls. The building looked vastly different to him in the daytime, when rich, golden sunlight lit the glass-walled lab and it came alive with well-rested men and women travelling throughout it. He was immune to all this and instead made a beeline for his office where he knew Catherine Willows would be waiting.

"What've we got?" Grissom breezed through the office door and deposited his briefcase on the always-cluttered desk.

"Cold case from twenty years ago—the 'Butterfly Man'. Kidnaps his victims over three days, repeatedly rapes and assaults them, then stabs them in the chest and paints them as part of a butterfly."

Catherine glanced up from reading. Tall, slim, with strawberry blonde hair and stunningly blue eyes, she wore black slacks with a v-necked pullover and blazer. He looked her up and down.

"Hypocrite."

"Hey, I'm in mourning of the loss of yet another couple hours of sleep. And I told you I liked the tan shirt better." She smirked. "Now, here's the important thing: two parts of the butterfly have been found in both New York and Miami, just like twenty years ago. But we still haven't found our girl. Which means…"

Grissom sighed.

"Our guy is somewhere in Las Vegas as we speak."

Catherine smiled sadly. She closed to folder and slipped into the chair in front of the desk, while Grissom sat himself behind it.

"Right. And we have no idea what we're looking for."

It was silent in the office. The tarantula on Grissom's desk crawled helplessly against the glass aquarium it was housed in, trying to make an escape even it knew it couldn't accomplish. Grissom stared at it, as though willing the spider to jump up and spout words of wisdom at him. It didn't. Finally, he raised his blue eyes to meet Catherine's.

"There's only one thing to do, isn't there?" He heard her sigh dejectedly.

"It has to be done. He's going to strike again. We'll leave Dayshift to find her?"

"It looks like we'll have to." Grissom got up now, moving around the office, plucking random books and files from various shelves and piling them on his desk. "I don't want this guy starting his cycle again. We failed nine women last time, Catherine. Not this time. Call Brass. Tell him what's going on, then have Judy book seven tickets for the earliest flight out of Vegas."

"Destination?" Catherine was already out of her seat and at the door.

Grissom twitched a little half-smile.

"New York."


New York
12:00PM
NYPD Crime Unit

"Yes. Uh huh. No, that's fine, we'll manage. Of course. Nine A.M.. We'll see you then."

Mac Taylor hung up the phone and pinched the bridge of his not irritably. Tall, nearly six feet, with dark hair and blue eyes, Mac sat at his desk in black pants and blue suit shirt and tie, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He'd just received calls from both Las Vegas and Miami. Two CSI teams were coming into New York the next day, and would he be able to meet with them and arrange transportation back to the lab? Stella had already got on the phone to LaGuardia to check the flight times, so he reluctantly picked up the phone once again and ordered two vans to meet him at the airport for nine o'clock.

He sighed. It was going to be a long day.

"Hey, Mac?" Danny Messer knocked on the glass door of Mac's office.

"Yeah?"

"Sheldon's photos of the butterfly lady, just in," Danny handed a stack of photos to his boss. "He's in prep now."

Mac began flipping through the photos. Blank stares glared back at him, the woman's battered body telling a story of her torture, of her pain. By the end of her three days, Mac knew all the woman would have wanted was to die. Not one person he knew would have wanted to live after the time spent with the murderer.

"Mac?" Danny brought Mac back to the present. "What's really going on? I mean, bringing three CSI teams together seems—I dunno…a little much."

Mac levelled his gaze with Danny's.

"When these murders started twenty years ago, we couldn't put two and two together fast enough to stop nine women from dying. The teams never managed to catch the man that started the murders—there were suspects, sure. At the time, the Vegas team was dead sure they had him."

"What happened?"

"One of their CSIs disappeared while they were interrogating their prime suspect. Three days later…"

"Madam Butterfly," Danny said.

"Exactly. So this time, it's crucial we stop him. We're all in this together, remember."

Danny studied Mac for a moment, then stood and made his way to the glass doors of Mac's office.

"Hey, boss?"

Mac glanced up from the photos.

"Yeah, Danny?"

"You're keeping all of us in one place for a reason, aren't you?"

Mac smiled.

"Oh, yes."

Nodding, Danny silently left the office, and Mac got back to work. There was quite a lot to do in twenty-four hours.


Miami
Day 2- 6:00AM
Miami International Airport (MIA)

Miami International Airport was swarmed with people as Horatio Caine met his team at the arrivals area. He carried a single briefcase with him; the rest of his and the team's baggage had been checked at the front desk, along with all of their supplies and field kits. Only Calleigh carried her silver flight-wing kit with her on Horatio's request, lest something occur on the plane that they hadn't expected.

It amazed Caine that, even at six in the morning, the men and women around him managed to be completely alive and alert, shouting at each other over cell-phones or through the walkie-talkies of the security guards, toting roll-on suitcases or screaming children with their faces covered in sticky orange goo and pulling their own children's size bag stuffed with plush animals and funnily dressed dolls. Their parents looked like hey were about to reach their breaking point. Indeed, one hastily dressed blonde woman next to him was desperately trying to shush her wailing daughter, whose sundress was splashed with the red juice she'd spilled down her front from the sippy cup clutched tightly in her little fingers. Her sister, a tough-looking girl of sixteen, sat unaware of the situation as her head bobbed to the music filtered into her ears from her iPod.

Caine shook his head. A quick glance out the window of the terminal told him he would only have to wait a few more minutes for the overnight flight from Las Vegas to land. A few more minutes, and the show would really begin.


A/N: As always, I love feedback, whether it be a rant, rave, or if you want to tell me about the weather (but I'd really love the first two more). I'd also like to note that I haven't exactly decided a)What I'm referring to Horatio as (Horation or Caine) and b) What I'm referring to Griss as. Not that it's that important /shrugs/. Another chapter down!