Author's Note: I am so sorry about posting the wrong chapter. I should have paid more attention. This is the chapter that I wanted to have. I had changed my mind on some of the plot so I hope you enjoy this revised chapter. Once again, I'm sorry about the mix-up.
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. I only own my character and of course all the murderers.
Tristan paced back and forth across her microscopic living room. She had just received a call to come to work early. Unfortunately, Greg was still going to be coming at three to pick her up. She deliberated the problem, scribbled a note to leave in the door, and set out to work. Finally, she was only four blocks away from the lab, and Tristan quickened her pace. She stepped into the lab, and Grissom spied her coming. He immediately handed her a sample vial. "Tristan, I need you to run this DNA and see if there's a hit." She started up the process, placed the sample inside and waited for the results to pop up on the computer screen.
"The DNA belongs to a William Porter. He lives here in Las Vegas." Tristan handed Grissom the printout. She didn't want to touch the paper anymore. A knot was slowing growing in her stomach. "Why are you looking for him?" she asked, afraid to know the answer. Grissom was busy analyzing the paper to notice her anxious face.
"There's been a homicide in the rural part of Las Vegas. A teenage girl was shot and killed this afternoon, luckily for us, the killer left plenty of leads." Grissom explained the situation in a calm, factual voice. "Thanks for the data."
"No problem," Tristan mumbled. She continued to process evidence, until Sara and Warrick came with fingerprints. The prints also matched William Porter.
"We are going to put this guy behind bars for life." Sara declared, her eyes dark with rage, "Let's go get this guy and bring him in. I wish all the cases were solved this easily." She held the results up in triumph and charged out the door, with Warrick close behind. Tristan stood alone in the lab. She felt sick. What am I going to do? I don't ever want to see him again. She struggled to force her mind to focus on another subject.
Tristan was headed to the break room after clocking out when Sara and Warrick brought Willam Porter in. She tried to duck into another corridor, but it was too late. "Tristan Wescott. I should have known that you were still alive. I've been trying to find you for years. I hate you for what happened to my family." He stopped walking. Tristan stood frozen in the hall. "I should have taken care of you years ago--," his sentence interrupted by a warning from Sara. "I'm not finished with you yet," he menaced. Tristan broke into a run. She flung open the door leading to the break room, narrowly missing Catherine and Greg, who stared at her in surprise.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, before trying to back out of the room.
"Are you all right?" Catherine asked.
"Fine. I'm fine. Just tired, that's all," Tristan lied. Greg eyed her suspiciously. He seriously doubted her answer. She was pale, wide-eyed, and breathing hard.
"If you're fine, then why do you look like you've just seen a ghost?" he said half-teasingly.
"Leave me alone!" Tristan almost screamed at him, "Stop asking me questions. I hate you!" Greg was taken aback by her words. Catherine chose this moment to slip out the door and left the two alone. Tristan felt like falling through the floor.
"I'm sorry," she said, softly, "I don't hate you. I hate him."
"Who are you talking about?"
"William Porter," she whispered, "He. I don't want to talk about it."
"Tell me," Greg encouraged. He hoped he was saying the right words. The young CSI felt very awkward in emotional situations.
"I can't," Tristan stated flatly, "Everyone would be angry that I didn't say anything sooner. All I want is to live a normal life and to forget the past."
"You're going to have to say something. Is this about the new murder?" Greg asked.
"I gotta go home," she started to leave.
"You know, you don't have to afraid anymore."
"I've been afraid my whole life," Tristan retorted before leaving. He let her go.
Tristan ran back to her apartment. Hot tears fell on the cold pavement as she sprinted into her apartment and fastened the door. She stumbled across the floor before falling onto the couch. Tristan shut her eyes to stop the flashes of memory. She could hear the fatal shot being fired. The sound reverberated through her mind. Then she saw him lying on the ground. She ran and knelt beside him. Tristan looked down and saw his blood on her hands. He looked straight into her eyes. She couldn't stop the tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she cried. He shook his head slowly. "It's not your fault." Those were his last words. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. The images faded, and Tristan found herself in her living room, alone in the dark, left with only memories.
Thank you for reading. Please review and tell me what you think. Any comments are helpful-good or bad. I'll have the next chapter up in a couple days.