A/N: Now, time to answer some reviews! Even though I only got three which isn't nearly enough to keep me happy nudge nudge. Come on! At least let me know what you think, that little purpleish button needs some love!

JoonSanders: I can't really imagine Brass or Grissom on a skateboard, either. I just felt like they should have some kind of thing in common, even if it is just a way of transportation.

wildcherry32: There's an impending fight coming on between Nicky and Greggo...I'm sorry. I'll try to keep it to a bare minimum, just for you. But I've spent all this time working up the tension...

Silver Hair Fox: Pamela knows about my story? The Pamela from Three CSIs Sitting in a Row? Sweet! I'm still waiting for updates on that, girlie! And I try to update early in the morning, just so that when you go to school and check at lunch to see if I've updated, I have! Your nice long reviews keep me going!

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New years day, Greg and Sara were at the arcade. Greg had noticed that admission was half off on January first, and a lightbulb had gone off in his head about how to get a one-up on Nick. He was already marking the mental scoreboard when he had knocked on her door that morning, and he was even more delighted to find her, still in her pajamas, and looking tousled but pretty. Still, he couldn't help but notice how her ribs stuck out and how there was practically no muscle on her upper arms.

After an awkward trip to the arcade involving Sara's first ride on a skateboard, Greg had insisted on paying admission for both of them and getting a ton of nickels for them to share. Currently, they were playing the old standby, Dance Dance Revolution. Sara was desparately trying to reach Greg's level of utmost concentration, with little success. He had reached a state of nirvana, letting the dance pad, the screen, and his feet become one. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Sara sighed as she looked at her score. Her C- looked pathetic next to Greg's perfect A.

After jumping from one game to the next, racing motorcycles, playing Streetfighter and Bust-a-move, both teenagers were thoroughly wiped out. When Greg suggested they call it a day, Sara gladly accepted, and they began a slow journey, walking, this time, back to her house.

"You had fun, right?" Greg asked, peering over at her. She was walking the way someone would walk after running the New York marathon, not as if she'd just spent the day at the arcade. Her expression seemed to suggest that the skateboard under her arm was a thousand-pound weight, making it nearly impossible for her to move.

Sara grunted her ascent, glancing over at her companion. She could see that his bright pink "tough guy" t-shirt was sticking to his sweaty back, and his cheeks were flushed. "At least he can walk upright," she thought jokingly, slouching over a little more and taking in her cave-man-esque appearance. After a few more exchanges of comments, the pair decided to save their energy for making it the rest of the way home.

When they reached her house, Sara gave Greg a hug, thanked him for taking her out and making her do something worthwhile on her first day of the new year, and went inside, promptly falling asleep on the couch.

Greg skated the rest of the way home, his spirits considerable lighter as he marked the mental scoreboard up one more point

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Catherine was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her stereo was blasting the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack, and she was tapping her fingers on her bedside table, pondering life and all it's strange qualities.

Following the path that all her trains of thought had lately, her mind focused on Gil. The tophat he'd given her was safely in it's box in her closet, waiting for an occasion special enough that she could wear it. For now, she just admired it, wondering what he'd intended her to use it for. Imagining him, imagining her wearing it.

She was still in her pajamas, if you could call them that. She was wearing a pair of boys boxers, along with a sports bra. She stopped tapping her fingers, instead reaching down to a pile of half-dirty clothes that lay next to her bed, extracting a Rolling Stones t-shirt, and pulling it over her head.

Once this was done, her fingers resumed their frantic tapping along with the music coming from her cd player. Her cd was almost over and, growing restless, Catherine jabbed the stop button with one finger, using her other hand to lever herself off the bed. Her bare feet hit the thin carpet, then her knees as she got down on all fours and reached under her bed. She took out the book she was currently reading, the play, actually. "West Side Story," proving to be a good, albeit cheesy, read.

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Mia and Warrick were watching the sunset from the top of a hill in a park near Warrick's house. Or at least, that's what their original intention was. They were now laying in the grass, kissing passionately, and although they may not be watching the sunset, they were getting an equally beautiful array of colors from the natural high they gave eachother.

Warrick broke the kiss and sat up, Mia's hand held loosely in his own. She was propped up on one elbow, watching a ladybug as it began the strenuous journey up and over a blade of grass. Warrick leaned down, giving her a soft kiss on the mouth, then told her with a voice full of regret, "I have to get home. Grams doesn't let me hang out after dark.

Mia nodded understandingly, her eyes still fixed on the ladybug as he got up and walked away. She sat there until the sun was down and the moon was up, thinking. Both ladybug and boy were long gone, and she couldn't get either out of her head.

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Jim was laying facedown on his bed, some headphones snapped carelessly over his ears, his face buried in the pillow. He couldn't sleep, much to his annoyance, and he was listening to Beethoven's ninth, trying to get some peace. It was the end of the beginning of the new year, that is, it was eleven o' clock at night on January first.

He was thinking about his friends, if that's what they were, wondering where he fit in with all the drama. He knew what was going on, he had seen the heartbreak in Archie's eyes when Mia had kissed Warrick, he'd heard the storie's of Catherine and Gil's torrid romance yet-to-come, and he could tell that Greg and Nick were fighting over an oblivious Sara.

"What about me? What's my sob story?" he thought sullenly. Turning to lay on his side, he turned the volume knob on his cd player, blocking out all the outside sounds with a crescendo of music. He closed his eyes and turned, once again, to bury his face in the pillow and try to forget the rest of the world.

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A/N: Awww, poor Brass! Even I've been forgetting that he and Archie are in the story, and I'm the author! Anyway, trying to get some nice forshadowing in for this chapter, at least with Brass's bit and the Warrick/Mia stuff. Don't know what I was thinking about the ladybug, there was one on my windowsil at the time. Sorry for the freaky stuff about bugs! That's Gil's job, not mine. As always, reviews make my day! Honey preffered over vinegar, but I'll take either!
Hugses and kisses,
Maddy