Disclaimer: They aren't mine. I want them, but they aren't mine.

Author's Notes: This is an idea I started last summer...and it got pushed aside after Hurricane Rita. I happened to find it while going through some old disks, and I figured I'd go ahead and finish/post it. Let me know what you think, and if I should continue.

Jenny

Obsession:

Greg leaned against the passenger seat, staring out the window with a slight pout, "I just don't see why Grissom gets to work the triple, alone, and there's two of us working a single."

"Stop acting like a baby, we're almost there," Sara replied with a sigh, "Grissom's the boss, what he says goes. If he decided we needed to work on the disappearance of a tarantula from the pet store while he worked all of the murders in Vegas, we'd start searching the tanks at the pet store and questioning the scorpions."

Greg looked up at Sara with wide eyes, "Don't even suggest that, I could see him having us do that."

"Oh, shut up," Sara snapped, "My point is, we're stuck with whatever he gives us. Today, it happens to be a db, tomorrow, who knows? It's too late now to change your assignment, suck it up and put on a new attitude."

Greg leaned over to change the radio station, glancing at Sara with a smirk, "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed tonight."

"We're here." Sara replied, glaring at him while trying to decide whether to be amused or annoyed. They both reached into the trunk to get their kits, and Sara reeled back, making a face and waving her hand in front of her face, "Where did you buy your cologne, Greg? It reeks! You've got to stop buying that stuff from the dollar store."

"I didn't buy it from the dollar store, for your information, it's not as nice as the stuff I normally buy, but it's not some cheap brand either. I took a pay cut, remember?" Greg replied bristly, shutting the latch behind them, "You're not even wearing perfume, if anyone should complaining, it should be me," Seeing Sara's narrowed gaze, he hastily added, "Not that you smell, of course..."

"I'm not wearing perfume because not being able to smell anything besides your 99 cent cologne interferes with our skills as CSIs." Sara retorted as they walked towards Brass.

"The body's this way," Brass told Greg and Sara as they met in front of the small brown trailer, "Female, mid-to-late twenties, identified as Morgan Callahan. The call came in from her coworker, Mitzi Marshall, who was Callahan's ride to work. She honked the horn several times, Callahan didn't respond, she knocked on the doors and windows, and when she didn't get an answer, she tried to open the door, it was unlocked. She says she didn't touch anything, and neither have my men. Coroner's on his way."

Sara and Greg stepped past Brass on the tiny, white cement steps and into the trailer. Sara made a face, breathing through her mouth, "What's that awful smell?"

"Would you please stop teasing me about my cologne?" Greg snapped, coming up behind Sara. "Woah, you mean that smell," He said weakly, barely able to suppress his gag reflex.

Sara coughed slightly, trying not to inhale too deeply as they entered the warm, rancid trailer, "It's disgusting."

"Cats," Greg said with a shudder, bringing his hand to cover his mouth and nose, in hopes of lessening the stench of the room "This place smells like my Aunt's house, she had five cats, and the place always reeked of litter box. What's that other smell? Rotten chicken, spoiled milk?"

Sara nodded, looking at the trash on the floor, dishes piled high in the sink, and laundry, dirty, scattered over every surface possible. "Think this was trashed or she just lived like this?"

"People live this way?" Greg questioned, his eyes also wandering around the room, "Is that milk or cottage cheese?" he asked, pointing to a small dish on the counter, "Or do I even want to know?" He asked, his voice fading slightly, as was the color in his face.

Sara shook her head, taking a deep breath through her mouth to fight the nausea washing through her as she noticed the mouse droppings on the counter, along with, from what she counted, 19 soda cans, 4 empty glasses, and 8 used bowls, some still containing food.

"How does she find anything in this place?" Sara questioned, cautiously walking towards the bedroom, "I'm pretty sure we can rule out robbery, no burglar would waste their time on a place like this."

"It would be a good rouse, though," Greg suggested, "After all, she wouldn't know what was missing or not."

Sara shrugged, "That's true. Greg, I want you to check the perimeter, all doors and windows, all possible points of entry. It may not be a bad idea to crawl underneath the trailer and look for anything out of the ordinary--"

"You really expect me to go down there? You've seen this place, do you think underneath it is any better? There's probably a mound of garbage just holding this tin can up!" Greg exclaimed, "There's no way I'm going down there. Have you fallen on your head recently?"

Ignoring his protests, Sara continued, "Check for any tire marks that did not come from a police vehicle, anything that could have been dropped by our suspect. Photograph everything, multiple angles, close-up. Once you're finished with that, use a new roll to photograph the interior. Label--"

"I know, label and seal everything. I've been doing this for a few months, Sara, you can trust me." Greg replied, his voice filling with barely-hidden indignation, "If you're going to torture me, you can at least treat me like an adult instead of some irresponsible child."

Sara rolled her eyes, "It's my job as Lead CSI to instruct you on what to do. I'm just making sure your directions are thorough."

"A kindergartner could follow your instructions, Sara." Greg retorted, annoyance rapidly creeping into his tone.

With a smirk, Sara replied, "Precisely," before disappearing into the victim's bedroom. "Oh, and Greg?" She called out over her shoulder, "If I was really looking to torture you, I'd make you stay in here, okay?"

Taking a deep breath, then choking over it, Greg sighed, "Point taken."

Sara shone her flashlight into the bedroom, carefully creeping along the wall. Normally she would tell others that moving against the wall would help prevent her from contaminating any evidence, but now she was mostly worried about what was underneath all of the garbage.

Her fears were confirmed when a tiny brown mouse ran from underneath the pile of clothes Sara had just dodged, causing Sara to jump back in surprise while Brass let out a quiet profanity, stepping back as well.

"Greg was right, who lives like this?" Sara asked, kicking at the pile of trash in hopes of avoiding another sudden surprise visitor.

Brass shook his head, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief in a vain attempt to remove the sweat and cool himself off, "We're not here to understand how she lived. We're here to understand how she died."

Flashing Brass a smile, Sara entered the bedroom, not too surprised to see it in similar disarray.

"What's the ETA on the coroner?" Sara asked, taking several pictures of the victim, trying to capture it from every angle possible, "This poor woman...she probably never saw him coming."

Morgan Callahan laid face down on her bed, wearing what used to be a cream-colored top and a brown skirt. The skirt was bunched up near her waist, a single glance verifying that she was raped. Sara squatted in front of the body, swabbing the semen pooled on the sheets, "Anyone who's in the system already won't leave such obvious DNA behind."

"The victim works for the insurance department of a local trucking company. She's had several complaints filed against her, several threats made. I already contacted her employers, they're going to pull her file for us to research anyone who may have wanted to do her in," Brass supplied, checking his notepad for the specific details, "Coroner should be here within the next five minutes."

Sara pulled out her fingerprinting powder and brush, trying to decide where to begin searching for any evidence the killer may have left behind. She hadn't made much progress by the time David arrived to collect the body, and while he did what he had to do with the body, she began to search for potential evidence in Morgan's bedroom.

She was dusting the wall near the bed for prints when she heard a loud crash, the trailer swaying slightly. She moved towards the front of the trailer, hand on her gun, speeding up when she heard Greg's shouts. By the time she reached the front door, Brass and his men were already outside, Brass giving orders to his men while summoning an ambulance over his radio.

"What's going on?" Sara asked, walking towards Brass, the nervousness audible in her voice. She stopped as she saw who Brass and his men were standing over, paling slightly, "Oh God, Greg."

TBC