Author's Note: I am so sorry for not updating very quickly. School has been very hectic, and my mind has been running around with ideas for this chapter. I will try to be a little quicker with the next chapter.

Thanks to all my reviewers: MC New York, karmine, and bethy.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. If I did, then I wouldn't have a disclaimer. Also, if there are any misspellings or bad punctuation, the computer has been acting rather strange.

Greg checked the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour. "Hey, Grissom, don't you think we should call her?"

"I've already tried four times; there's no answer." Grissom replied distractedly. He was gingerly handling another specimen for his collection.

"Why don't you try again?" Greg asked, once again breaking the silence.

"Why don't you call?" Grissom answered, scowling. He had dropped the insect on table and damaged its wing.

"Okay, okay. I will." Greg whipped out his cell phone and glanced at Grissom sheepishly. "Um, what's the number?" Grissom was now extremely irritated.

"I'll call her. You clean up this mess." He dumped the mangled insect into Greg's hands. Grissom dialed the number and waited.

She was running through the woods with Stephen close behind her. "Are we going to make it?" she gasped breathlessly.

"I don't see him anymore! We must have lost him!" Stephen answered. "Keep going!" They continued at their fast pace through the trees. Tristan stumbled and fell. He stopped to help her. She felt someone come up behind her. Stephen pushed her to the side. Their pursuer raised his gun. Tristan covered her eyes. A ringing sound filled her ears and the scene slipped away. Everything hurt. Something was out of place; she forced her eyes open. The room was spinning. She was lying on the floor. Tristan realized that the noise came from her cell phone. Her head ached fiercely. What's going on? she wondered, struggling to focus her thoughts which only caused more pain. Then she remembered what had happened. Her cell phone continued to ring. Tristan pulled herself into a sitting position and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Tristan? Are you okay? You're late for work." It was Grissom.

"Grissom? Work? I totally forgot about work," she moaned rubbing her eyes. How long have I been here?

"I'm going to send someone to come get you. Are you at your apartment?"

"Yeah."

"Someone will be there in a few minutes." He hung up before she could reply. Tristan shut the phone and set it on the floor. Her whole body ached, even her face. She ran a hand over her cheek and stopped on a small cut. She reached out her arm and felt glass surrounding her. Her attacker had broken something. Carefully, she felt the floor before stopping on a wooden frame. Stephen's picture was broken. Tristan cautiously fished the battered photo from the sea of broken glass. She clutched the picture to her chest, and a feeling of loss filled her. A light-colored object lying by the door caught her eye. It was a white rose. She crumpled it up and shoved it under the couch.

"Hello? Tristan? Can you let me in?" Greg knocked on the door. Tristan stood carefully and opened the door. Greg was leaning on the handrail, holding a field kit. "So, what seems to be the problem?"

"Someone was in my apartment when I came home after going to the park. Gave me a nice whack on the head. Now I have a headache and a bruise to prove it." Tristan said. She deliberately left out the part about the rose. Greg studied her critically.

"I think that you should go to the hospital."

"I've had concussions before, Greg. I can handle it. Besides,the guy was probably looking for something to steal when I walked in. Itook some medication, and it's starting to kick in.I need to get to work before I get fired."

"Some random guy breaks into your house, hits you upside the head, and all you can say is, 'I need to go to work'?" Greg stubbornly set his jaw, "Let me check for prints at least." Tristan stepped aside to let him enter.

"Was anything stolen?" he asked, busily dusting the door.

"No, only the picture was broken," Tristan answered. Ten minutes later, Greg was done.

"No prints. Whoever it is, he's a pro. Not a single fingerprint." Greg began to load up his supplies. "I'm going to call Grissom and tell him that you aren't going to be working today."

"Greg, I am going to work if I have to walk there." Tristan crossed her arms and scowled. "I've had worse things happen to me than this."

"Like what?" his question threw her off guard.

"That would be none of your business," she retorted, not answering the question. They stared at each other for a minute. Finally, Greg gave in.

"All right, all right,you win. I've learned that it's a health hazard to try to reason with an angry woman. You're going to have to tell Grissom, though." Minutes later, they were walking down the hall of the lab. Greg noticed that the rest of the CSIs were in the break room. "What's going on?" he asked as they walked into the room. Grissom merely glanced at him and continued to discuss something with Sara.

"There's been another murder. This one totally screws up our other investigation." Nick explained. "You know the suspect that we've been trying to pin down? Well, he turned up dead this evening in an alley not far from here. Now, we have no suspect, a new case, and no evidence."

"Who's the new victim?" Tristan asked. Her heart skipped a beat. It can't be, she thought, holding her breath.

"William Porter."

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know that it's a little boring, but I'm getting to the more interesting part.