Summary: There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

Timeline: Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

Spoilers: Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

Disclaimer: This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

Title: To Whom It May Concern

By: duffshel

Author's Note: So, here's another dose. Have to say, going to be the last for at least a week. Going out of town and won't have any access to a computer, much less any electricity! But I promise to update again as soon as I can. Go read, review, and enjoy! Thanks!

Chapter 4:

"If you have not often felt the joy of doing a kind act, you have neglected much, and most of all yourself."
A. Neilen

seventy one days earlier, crime lab…

Glancing down at his watch, Nick watched as the minute hand traversed the final little steps across midnight. It was officially a new day. He sighed and rubbed at his forehead at the thought. They had just arrived back at the lab and already he had a headache.

He followed the clicking of the shoes in front of him. Nick trusted Catherine to lead him, allowing him to study the floor as they walked. Eye contact would involve some sort of response, some sort of smile, and he really didn't have the energy to play the social game right now.

Thoughts of that alley had taken over his brain. That shoe was bothering him. Nick coughed deep in his throat, lips twisting around. He almost wished a piece of gum. It would be something to keep him from grinding his teeth together.

Suddenly the shoes in front of him stopped, removing the one from his thoughts as solidly. Nick threw his head up, hands rising as he turned on the brakes. Blonde hairs filled his face as he tried to figure out what happened. Feminine sweat filled his nose and worked to get a cough out of him, along with a question at what was up.

Catherine didn't give him much of a chance, pulling away immediately, "Hey, watch it. What's wrong with you all of a sudden?"

Nick looked up at her, lost little boy look plastered across his face. Reality of where he was crushed him downward. He glimpsed movement over the woman's shoulder. Now, he really wished for the world to open up and swallow him whole. Grissom was looking right at him.

"Sorry, wandering thoughts… about the case."

It was a weak defense and he knew it. The raising of the senior CSI's eyebrows in front of him proved it. He could already here the questions, of course only from Catherine, at least out of concern. Another smile was painted on his lips, palms held out in offering.

"Promise. Nothing wrong."

Grissom jumped in, ending the situation on its head, "You two are done early."

"David was there before us, not too much at the scene," Catherine answered.

"Anything stand out?"

"Nope. Girl was shot to death, twice. There really wasn't anything at the scene. No murder weapon present. Thinking it was only the dump sight anyways."

"She was shot twice? Where?"

"Lower back and back of the neck."

"Just like ours…" Grissom trailed off, turned to walk away.

Catherine wasn't about to let him off the hook that easy, "What? Yours? Gil, what are you talking about?"

"Yeah, our double. Both girls had the same cause of death. Seems we might actually have one case. I left the others at the scene to work it more. I was on my way to the morgue. Care to join me?"

The tiles in front of him didn't hide the silence that suddenly fell. Nick jerked his head up, both faces looking right at him again. He missed most of the conversation. Those thoughts had come back and he was practically salivating in wish for a piece of damn gum.

"Uh…I'll take the stuff to trace…" Nick tried to keep the question out of the words.

Blank stares were all he got in return. Showing a little bit of teeth, Nick turned on his heels and took off. This was one of those few occasions where he was desperate to find and talk to Hodges. He could only begin to wonder how Satan was liking the ski slope resort hell just had become.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

As always, the morgue was chilly. The temperature was well controlled, locked up under a glass pad so no one could mess with it. But Albert Robbins never was one to complain about it. In fact, with the skin melting heat outside the walls on most days, this was a nice retreat.

The blue scrubs he wore hung a little lose, fabric scraping against other fabric with every move he made. Regulations had strict orders that the clothes were tight fitting, snug so as to not snag on anything. But Robbins couldn't move well in something so constricting.

There were three bodies on display, two on the permanent working tables, one still waiting, fully dressed, on a gurney. Robbins looked around the first body, the plastic sheets hanging down from the walls protecting minimally against airborne agents. His cane clanked along on the tile as he moved closer, clip board in hand.

It had been a young girl. She was only twenty-seven. There had been a whole lifetime for her to live yet. Instead, she was naked, waiting to be sprayed down once again to remove anything that might be offensive for an open casket funeral. Across her chest and stomach, a jagged "X" was marked. Several black stitches stood out against the gray skin.

Her brown hair was swept back, away from her face. Blue lips were full, wrinkled. Several vein lines were visible running up and down her neck. She would have been a pretty girl, full of life. Now, she would face the fate her family or her will dictated. She was only part a full girl, some organs and bullets taken from inside her flesh.

Robbins looked up from his notes to the sound of the door swinging open. It wasn't unusual to see Grissom and Catherine walk into his domain together. And their expressions were nothing new. He could almost hear their thoughts as they moved towards him.

"One would have to say neither of you are happy to see me?

Catherine smiled tightly, "Always a pleasure to see you, Doc. Just sometime, let it be under different circumstances."

"Agreed. Gil, I don't have your girls quite done yet. I just finished up with Catherine's here and was getting ready to prepare for yours."

"It's alright. Seems that we might have a connected crime. What do you have?" Grissom walked close to the table, looked right down at the girl, from the scene he hadn't seen.

"C.O.D. was confirmed on sight by David, gun shot wounds. Two of them."

Grissom raised an eyebrow, small smirk to show the good doctor he wasn't impressed, "We know that already. Which happened first?"

"Ah, now there's the question of the hour. From the looks, the first was administered to the lower back, and then followed up with a shot to the back of the neck. I would say, the first shot was standing, level to the shooter's arm. Second one was given quickly after, but seemed to be at a closer distance from what I could tell with the residue. I have these two cleaned for basic procedures, but the third is still fresh. You could stay for that one."

"The clothes for these two?" Catherine looked around her for any plastic bags.

"Already sent them up to trace. Hodges was practically calling me every five minutes for something to do with this case. Wanted to get him off my back."

"So, was the second girl the same?" Grissom asked as he turned to look at the second table, "Same shots in same order?"

Doc Robbins straightened his body and walked over to the other table. She was the first victim that came from the second crime scene. Her coloring was completely gone, cheeks shallow against her bones.

"Yes. Lower back first, neck last. Same as with the other, the wound to the neck was the killing shot. I have to open her up and get inside to find the bullets to make sure and check the damage, but it is consistent."

Leaning his cane on the table, Robbins motioned for Grissom to help him move the body so they could get a good look at the young girl's back. Carefully, they moved her heavy, stiff limbs so she was resting on her right side. Robbins cleared his throat and removed one of his hands so he could point out some features.

"From the angle I was able to determine, her head was thrown slightly backwards. My guess, the shot to her back threw her torso forward, head back. The shot entered here," he pointed to the skin exposed beneath the hairline, "Went in through the spinal cord, severing it between the second and the third vertebrae from what I can tell now. Shut her entire body down before hitting the ground."

Catherine stood straight, hands going to the swells of her hips, "Odd way for execution style. Why not just straight in the face? Why two shots?"

"Seems to me," Robbins found his cane again, "There might have been a point that needed to be made by this."

Not wanting to speculate anymore on this, Grissom didn't bother with any other words. He simply leaned forward, eyes squinting as he tried to find something else that would help them in this case. But it seemed the good doctor had been more than thorough with these two.

"I'd like to stay and help with the third," he didn't bother to look at the other two living people as he moved to the rake with the green scrubs on them.

"Seems to me you're going to have two more for the last one," Catherine smirked.

Robbins smiled a little and walked over to get the gurney so they could put the last girl on the washing table. The smile vanished at the sight of the lost, blue lips. He held up his hand to stall Grissom for a second. He moved over to the phone on the wall by the entrance door.

He pushed in a few buttons and waited for the rings to be answered, "Yes, David. I'm going to need your help down here…Yes, come now. Thank you."

Grissom raised his eyebrow in question at the request for more help, "Don't think we can handle helping you? I know it's been awhile since I've done this, but I think I can remember."

"No," Robbins waved him off, "I want him to finish with the first two while we work on the third. Nothing is going to be lost on my watch."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

His right eye began to twitch. Someone had just walked into the door of his trace lab, his personal lab. David Hodges didn't even want to begin to think about who it might be. Which ever CSI it was, they would open their mouth soon enough. Always demanding his attention. Pride bubbled inside of him on the dependency.

"You get lost or something," Hodges didn't even bother to look up from the microscope he had set up. There was a case from day shift that needed another look. He had offered his services, told Ecklie himself that he would take a look at the sample and help out. Earned a pat on the back and everything.

"Nah, just came to do some work."

The Texas drawl was smooth with humor and Hodges had to bite back on anything he would have loved to say. If it had been anyone else, they would have gotten an earful. But, Hodges was trying to play nice with Nick, share the toys and all, since…that day. He would never admit it aloud, even under the pain of death, but he was glad that certain CSI hadn't died.

"You CSI's never work. Just get underfoot of the officers then drop everything off for us lowly techs to figure out for you. Just like reporters, never work, but smile pretty and take all the credit."

Nick smiled his best pretty smile and walked over to the table, "Yeah, that's why we make the big bucks. I mean, shit, have you seen the new Mercedes I've been driving around. All disguised as my big 'ol black truck so it can't be lifted. Cost an extra pretty penny for that feature, but woo-wee, it works like a charm."

"Car thieves are bottom feeders," Hodges had to admit, Nick could dish it out with some of the best of 'em, but refused to lose his straight, uninterested face, "They're right there with the Fox network and catfish."

"Hey, I watch that station. Have some good stuff on. Sports and all…"

A raised eyebrow broke the flat expression of Hodges face, "I'll leave that one well enough alone. Don't want to risk any of the respect I might feel for you."

"See, always knew I was your favorite, man," Nick reached out and slapped the other man's arm, "Bet you never tell Greg you have any respect for him." But it wasn't reciprocated or even responded to.

Hodges crinkled up his nose as he sniffled, bored with this conversational direction now, "What'd you bring me? Something worth my time, I hope."

"I dunno yet. I just brought everything straight here, didn't sort anything yet."

"What? Why not?"

The Texan shrugged and looked closely at something on his right hand, "Just didn't yet."

"There are other lab rooms for that sort of thing. You bring me what you need after that," Hodges explained as best he could, imagining it was Sanders he was talking to so he would make sure to talk slowly and clearly.

"I suppose…" Nick broke off, looking uncomfortable, "Just had to get away from Catherine and Grissom."

Neither said another word. Nick studied his hand, David tried to find something that he could pretend to work on. Both were coming up short. And the trace technician would be damned to start another topic thread.

"Well, you best go and get that worked out. I have to finish up this sample for day and then get started on the bags I collected from Robbins."

"Alright. Be back when I get something for ya to do."

Hodges watched the man walk out of his lab. His frown deepened as he heard the shuffle, saw the slope of the back. Something bothered him, but he was David Hodges. It wasn't his thing to go fixing people. Nope, not his thing at all.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Sara sat in the back of the SUV, elbow resting up by the window, fingers drumming absently at her slack mouth. The buildings, the lights passed them by. Quickly at that. Warrick was speeding, she was sure of it.

The guys were quiet. They had been since Grissom had left them to the scene. It hadn't been a difficult one to close out. She had gotten some substances from the ground around a dumpster using swabs, and something from the street. Not sure if it was important, but it made her feel like she was moving somewhere.

Her mind swirled, trying to piece together everything she knew. And concentrating on this made it so she didn't have to try to talk to the other two. Besides, it sounded like they didn't care for any words anyways.

It wasn't long before they made it back to the lab building. Sara couldn't help to think something was different as she followed the two men in through the glass front doors. Everyone was working, no one was yelling that she could hear. The lights were on, there were no holes in any of the walls.

She nodded at people who hailed her as they walked, same with the guys. But none of them made any vocal comments. None of the three that was. It was as if their voices would be pulled away into nothingness, a void if they dared to speak to anyone. Even Greg was being quiet when that new blonde secretary smiled at him.

As they walked towards the conference room to meet up with Grissom, she finally felt something she had grown used to since the summer. There was a thick tension seeping in through the cracks in the walls. And it was centered on them, the graveyard gang. It was sealed when she watched Nick literally run from the trace lab into the back halls of the lab.

Warrick went stiff at the sudden appearance of his friend. The Texan either didn't see them or didn't care that they had been there. His body prepared for flight, attack if need be. A hand clasped around Warrick's bicep, holding him more powerfully than he would have thought.

"Let go, Sara," he growled softly, but it wasn't enough to get the woman to loosen up her hold.

"Just leave him be for a few. Let him think this through, get ready to talk to you."

Sara watched as the words soaked into Warrick's brain. It had been a tactic they had been using for a month now. Each of them had learned it was best to let Nick cool own for a bit before confronting him on what was the problem. Only Warrick had too many problems with letting Nick cook in his own thoughts for too long. It was just a way to create stories for distraction and it worked way too damn well.

"I don't want him to get ready. He can thrown up his damn walls and hold me out if I give 'em too much time to think. Need to catch him in the moment."

Greg shuffled, trying not to draw too much attention to himself, "Maybe we should go after him. He didn't look too good."

"Look guys," Sara put her hands across her chest for added protection as she thought her words out, speaking slowly, "I know you're both worried about him, but he won't want that. I think it's best we leave him be for a little bit longer."

There was a flash in Warrick's green eyes that showed defiance, disbelief to the words she had just spoken. He was the closest to that damn man and knew what levels Nick could take himself to just thinking about shit. It wasn't healthy. And it wasn't helping him get out of that box any quicker either.

But anymore comments were cut off by the sudden appearance of Brass, "What, a party in the hallway? I'll assume my invitation got lost in the mail so that'd be why I didn't know about it."

"Just heading to the conference room to meet up with Grissom," Greg rubbed at his left elbow, arms bent in front of him in an odd angle that only could look natural on the newest CSI.

"Hmm, assuming you haven't locked him up in the closet with the clown, he'd be in the morgue," Brass waited for the nods, "Fine, but I really need to find and talk to Nick. Any of you guys seen him?"

No one answered. Warrick only looked away, down the hall his friend had retreated to.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

It had been a long time since I felt like a child at work. And, damn it all to hell, it had to be Hodges that made me feel that way. All I wanted to do was get away from the searching eyes of Grissom and the sharp mother instincts of Catherine. Can never hide anything from those two. I swear, it's like living with my parents again when I snuck in the house after curfew.

But he had gotten on my case, literally both, for not going through the evidence first. It was a lab! It was used to go through evidence. I didn't see the big deal. Not like I would have gotten in his way. Just didn't want to share the room with me. Might just make a mess for him to have to clean up.

No, he sent me away to return when I had something of use for him. Always have to have something useful now, otherwise I'm just Nicky, the CSI in the way. Sadly, I really don't think it'll improve this time around either. Guess a box and some explosives wasn't impressive enough. Maybe next time I should hire a fireworks show and a popcorn maker.

And sadly, shudders still run through my body at those thoughts. After what has happened recently, those things are child's play. Nothing to lose sleep over. Now, I'm afraid of other things, more things, newer things…

I had seen the guys in the hall, just didn't feel like talking. I could see the frowns on their faces, but heard no voices. Warrick looked ready to tackle me and hold me down until I screamed 'Uncle.' They were thinking about something and I didn't want to have to think about it too. Had my own case to work, go over. Case to make myself useful again.

So, I took off, trying to find an empty lab to work in. There were several, but I picked the one in the corner, with the least amount of windows. It was smaller than the others too. Only two steel counters lined the walls, one large table in the middle. There weren't any cabinets or drawers so I had to use my own stuff from my kit. I've resorted to using this one a lot in the past year.

I remember most of what I took out and went over. My hand had cramped up during my note taking, writing everything down so I wouldn't miss anything or forget about it later. I worked hard and played the good little CSI. Should have tried harder.

Things might not have hurt as much. In the end. Or, well, right now.

TBC…