After shift I went back to my apartment, showered, and plopped down on my couch. I was in a mood to mope. I dearly missed Montana and the small town I left behind. Sighing, I pulled one of the many cardboard boxes towards me and decided that I could at least start a little bit of unpacking. The first thing I pulled out of the box was a dusty old picture album. I flipped through it. There were pictures of the countryside, of my childhood. I was the little black-haired girl always running around outside somewhere. I was the little black-haired girl who was always laughing. I smiled at the memories. I flipped the page and it showed my pictures from San Diego. It was totally different from the previous page. I was much older. I was the brainy black-haired girl who preferred studying over college parties. I was the black-haired girl whose idea of a good time was a night out with her friends at the beach. I started spending less time at the beach when I became a CSI. My days went from frolicking around outside to being stuck in a building with harsh sterile lights, analyzing forks to see if they could have been used to murder someone. I dropped the album on the floor and buried my face in my hands. Who had I come to be?

-

"You look like death," Greg Sanders said to me as I sat down in the break room.

"Oh, you're so suave with the ladies." He grinned and I rolled my eyes. Grissom walked in shortly after that and started handing us assignments.

"Greg, Warrick, you're at the Venetian with a 419. Catherine and Sara, big robbery in Henderson. Nick and Primavera, you're with me. We've got a rape case."

-

"What've you got on your end?" Nick asked. We were on opposite sides of a king-sized bed and were shining the ALS all over the bedspread.

"Well…a bunch of little sailors here. You?"

"Same thing. This guy was all over. Gross." I snorted at Nick. He was the last person I would've expected the word "gross," from.

"Whoa. Here's a bunch of fibers. They're fuzzy, this sheet isn't," I said.

"Good, we can send those over to Trace."

I scowled.

-

My beeper went off in the middle of my coffee break. I checked it and sighed to see the message "Trace." Grissom and Nick were out in the field so I had no choice but to go.

"What have you got?" I asked as soon as I entered.

"The fibers on this sheet were 100 acrylic. Probably from someone's sweater. Why there's a sweater in Vegas, I don't know," Hodges said. I raised an eyebrow.

"So you're positive that it's from a sweater?"

"Hey I don't know, I'm just guessing. You're the CSI here," he grumbled. I walked out before I could think of a reply.

-

"Gosh, is the homeless shelter out of beds or something?" My eyes snapped open. I lifted my head and saw that I had fallen asleep beside the computer that I was working at and Hodges was standing over me with a smirk.

"Oh great," I grumbled, trying to ease the tension from my sore neck by massaging it.

"Are you using that computer or are you just slacking off?" I shot Hodges a death glare and sat up straighter.

"For your information, I must've just dozed off for a moment…and yes, I'm still using this," I snapped.

"Well, too bad, my stuff's got priority. Ecklie's orders," Hodges said. I gaped at him.

"Oh, hell no."

"Hell yes. Uh…are you going, or shall I contact the supervisor?" I gave a frustrated sigh and gathered up all my stuff as he stood by looking smug. I stood and brushed past him roughly, wishing he would just fall into a well or something.

-

"Woo, Primavera, you're looking rough. Are you going for the zombie look? I never would have placed you as a 'Night of the Living Dead' fanatic," Greg said, plopping down next to me on the break room couch.

"Ha. That's so funny my sides are splitting in two," I rasped. Greg tried to hold in a laugh, but failed miserably. Catherine and Grissom walked in at that precise moment and raised their eyebrows at Greg. I groaned and swatted at Greg with a napkin.

"I'm sorry, but your face makes me crack up!" Greg said in between laughs. I scowled.

"Get me more coffee or I'll split your lip," I rasped at Greg, causing him to giggle. Grissom frowned at me.

"Are you sure you should be working now, Primavera? You look much too tired," Grissom said, concernedly.

"I'm—" Unfortunately, a yawn decided to surface at that very moment and both Grissom and Catherine had their eyebrows raised.

"Primavera, take the night off, you won't be any use while you're this tired." I groaned and stood on wobbly feet. Grissom frowned. "And it doesn't look like you're in any condition to drive, either. We'll find you someone to give you a ride home."

"No, Grissom, really..."

"You're not going to drive home like this," Grissom said, giving me a look that said he wasn't changing his mind. The break room door swung open and everyone looked to see who it was.

"Ah, Hodges, since you're heading off, would you mind taking Primavera home? She's not in the best condition for driving." Hodges froze. I froze and then turned to gape at Grissom.

"Uh…well…" Hodges scratched the back of his neck and then looked at Grissom. "Well…sure, boss. Wouldn't want one of your employees to go off the deep end." I swore I heard a hint of sarcasm.

"Thank you, Hodges." I continued to gape at Grissom. "Well, hurry home, Primavera, I want you here tomorrow ready for work."

"But—I—Yes, sir," I sighed and followed Hodges reluctantly out of the room.

-

The car ride was unpleasantly awkward and quiet. I sat with my bag clutched tightly to me on my lap and made sure my elbow avoided resting on the little compartment between the seats. I kept my gaze generally to the right side of me.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you so irritated all the time?" Hodges asked as he got on the ramp to the highway. I glanced at him and then looked out the window.

"I don't know what you mean," I said.

"You're always some level of angry whenever I see you at work."

"Well, then maybe I should be asking you the same question." I sensed him taking a look at me.

"Wow, you must really hate me," Hodges said in fake amazement.

"Look, I'm just really tired right now," I said, my voice rasping again. It was quiet for a moment. "I don't hate you."

Hodges almost ran a stop light. The tires screeched loudly and some car behind us honked their horn.

"What?"

"I said, I don't hate you. You just piss me off a lot," I said. "And on top of that, you're a terrible driver."

"Sorry," Hodges said. "Sorry about the driving, that is. Don't know what to do about pissing you off."

"Well, you could try to not be a jerk." Hodges pretended to scoff.

"Only if you paid me." Someone honked their horn again.

"Green means 'go,' by the way." I said, trying not to smirk. I felt his glare as I looked in the opposite direction.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."