And Walk Away a Savior

A/N: Last chapter was kinda short, sorry. And don't forget to press the pretty review button!

Chapter Two:

Oh, the Blood

Saturday night passed without much recognition, Sunday followed suit. Lenore was the gossip of the lab – for the time that anybody had to gossip, it was always revolving around the newest tech. She didn't seem to care very much, either that or she didn't know. Everybody seemed fine with her, except Nick, who didn't pay much attention to anybody on Sunday.

With Monday came, Catherine, Warrick and Nick left – leaving the lab bare and empty. Grissom had come in early to work on his case, wanting to get it done before another one came in. That had started happening lately; at least two of the CSIs had been given two cases at the same time – which was usually never considered, seeing as it often made work sloppy and confusing. Though the Las Vegas Crime Lab was having a short of the city's general faith in it's service, so giving a case to another lab would diminish their already dwindling public view.

By the time the usual nightshift had started, there was yet another case, given promptly to Catherine. Warrick was on vacation – and he proved it to be the worst time. Which meant Nick was stuck on the case as well. Greg had been drafted into helping as well, and Catherine, feeling it was a good opportunity, allowed Lenore to shadow.

The scene itself was pretty dreary. It was a small suburban home, complete with the minivan in the driveway. The only thing that set it apart from the rest of the neighborhood was the thick yellow tape reading "Crime Scene: Do not Enter" in big bold letters, and the flashing of police cars that were parked in front of it.

A chubby, bald officer walked up to Catherine and started talking to her in a hushed tone. She nodded a few times, replied in a tone just as quiet, and stalked off across the lawn to where they all were waiting near the front door.

"Nick," She started, "You take the kitchen and dining room. I've got the living room, den, and lower bedrooms. Greg, you take upstairs. Be careful, and take Lenore with you." She commanded in a gruff tone. Things earlier in court hadn't taken so well. They'd supported the evidence, but the DA decided it wasn't good enough. They were scheduled to trial again later in the week, so Catherine's work had already doubled in the short span of twelve hours.

"C'mon," Greg grabbed Lenore by the wrist and led her upstairs, "and be ready for anything."

She bit her lip at the statement but followed him upstairs, turning into the first bedroom on the left. It was a strange hallway system, apart from the two bedrooms downstairs, the hallway upstairs wound around on itself on either side, revealing at least seven doors. Four of which were bedrooms, one was a bathroom, and two led to rooms she wasn't quite sure what they were.

The first bedroom wasn't very appealing. The bedspread was messed up, the comforter spread around the room pretty carelessly. A thin pool of blood lay atop the sheets, drying quickly into the comforter. And on the floor, sprawled across numerous magazines, sheeting, and blankets, was a body. The skin was pale, apparently from death, and there was a coroner present. "Body temperature indicates T.O.D. was about 9:15 PM tonight."

Greg nodded as the coroner put the time down on a sheet of paper and left the room. Pulling out his camera, he snapped a picture of the body, leaving it alone soon after. "So what you have to do, is make sure you don't touch a thing here without gloves on." He threw her a pair, which she just barely caught. "And if you do decide to touch something, make sure that it's not vital evidence. If it is, you have to snap a photo. You have a camera, right?"

"No…"

"Then don't touch anything." He said simply, flashing her a small smile before examining the bed in silence. Lenore walked around the room a little, pulling the gloves on. "Don't you need to print the door?"

"Yeah, I do. But that can wait. We need to catch perishables first."

"Perishables..?" She inquired, looking up at him from a stack of magazines on the dresser.

"Yeah, things that could get messed up; I have to pull the sheets, and all the bedding has to go to the lab. You see what I'm saying? Perishables."

"Oh…" She nodded quietly, looking at the magazines. "This guy didn't have much taste. Old Marvel comics?"

"Probably a collector, they sell good online." Greg looked up for a minute before examining the comics on the floor. "What a waste…"

"Of what; paper or boredom?" She grinned, looking at him. "I can touch these, right?" She asked, flashing her hands with the gloves. Greg looked up for a moment, examining them. "Is there any sign of struggle in that area?"

"Nope," She said, looking at them. "Prim and proper."

He snapped a picture anyways.

"Fire away."

She picked up the top comic, flipping through the pages. It was old, and it smelled kind of funny too. Though it must have been worth gold, because it seemed in pretty good condition – minus the fact that it smelled like left over fruitcake. The first few pages were an introduction, seeing as the comic was the first issue of Superman. It showed a few things that she knew, like Clark Kent, Superman's alias. But other than that, she was clueless, so she set it back down.

"X-Men, Batman, Superman… They sure had an affinity to put 'man' after everything." She shook her head, looking back at Greg, who smiled a little – but seemed sort of annoyed. "Sorry."

"It's fine." He replied absent-mindedly, walking around to open the bathroom door. He snapped a few pictures in there before walking to the bedroom door. "Time to go, the next room is waiting."

The next few rooms were generally the same, give or take a few different interests in objects and color schemes. Every room had a body, except one – which was the guest room. Bare and undefined against the rest. From the looks of it, the family consisted of three adults; a married couple – presumably the parents, and what appeared to be a college student gone wrong. There were four adolescents, three of them dead. Ranging in age from a sixteen-year-old boy to a four-year-old girl; the one in the middle being a boy of thirteen. The one surviving child was supposedly their twin, or something like that – who had found the bodies.

By the time the coroner had taken the bodies, and it was time to collect evidence, the sun was already peeking up over the horizon – showing that it was going to be yet another hot autumn day. The weather hadn't seemed to realize it was supposed to cool down. But then again, they were in the middle of a desert.

Lenore sighed, stretching her arms absently. It was early, around seven or so, and despite the time of day, she was tired. She couldn't sleep, like she had been used to (seeing as she'd never worked the nightshift), and was pretty grumpy. Though she hid it behind her shyness, leaving her to a long day of sitting around and watching.

She didn't mind watching. Observing was one of the best ways to learn, followed up by duplication and study. Though hands-on would have been preferred, she wasn't ready for that. And she knew it. She did, however, chip in with small things. When Catherine would ask her to hold a camera, or to hold something like a bag open, she'd always be willing to help. Or when Greg's camera stalled and he couldn't figure out how to work it. Or when Nick needed that extra roll of tape…

Even though they were little things, spare tasks that nobody had time to do, she felt they were big. She hadn't begun actually training yet, though she was sure once things settled down and people decided that murder wasn't the right option at the moment, she would learn quite a bit. Though right now, it seemed as if homicide was on just about everybody's mind.

She was already hard at work too. Even though the tasks weren't physical, she was running over a list of suspects. Fingerprints, right now, were being lifted by Greg. Catherine was busy raiding the bathrooms and looking into the lives of the victims, and Nick was checking the backyard. Though what was she, Lenore, doing? She was listing suspects; the teenage daughter was one, and the nosy neighbor was probably one too; the one that kept looking outside suspiciously, and watched her when she went off to go get that roll of tape for Nick. Other than that, she had no clue. Once there were fingerprints taken, she'd have a more accurate list. And murder weapons.

She hadn't even gotten started on those. Three of the victims – the adult woman, the daughter and the seventeen-year-old son were found choked – though they still had to figure out what the cause of death was before she could pursue that avenue much further. The father figure was found stabbed three times, so there was a knife or other sharp object to be located and printed. The twenty-some-odd-aged son was hit in the head with a blunt object, and the youngest boy was suffocated. There were several pillows, bags, and other objects in the house that would be perfect for things like that, though, which made it awful hard. Not knowing the COD was even worse.

She sighed, kneeling down by the couch to look under it. Nothing but a few lint balls and… What was that? She looked down again and saw something glint. Carefully, she reached out and pulled it out from under the couch. It was some sort of robotic toy that started flashing suddenly. Squealing, she dropped it and jumped back, stumbling backwards and landing on her back.

"Oww…" She moaned as Catherine poked her head in, looking to see what happened.

"What just went on?" She asked, not really abandoning her previous occupation.

"Nothing. I just got startled by some toy." Lenore replied weakly, still frozen in her state on the floor. "It's fine." Catherine sighed, but didn't seem to pursue it much more. She hadn't disturbed evidence or anything, so just a pint of clumsiness would be tolerated. Greg even poked his head down from upstairs to make sure everything was fine. Nick, who was outside, didn't really know.

After a while, the large grandfather clock – near the fireplace in the den (which Catherine was now in) chimed twelve times, indicating the middle of the day. Lenore yawned, quickly covering it up. Catherine stopped her work for a minute, lugging a large box of items outside and into her car.

"Okay guys," She called as she walked back in, closing the door behind her. "Go home, get some sleep, and we'll start back up in a few hours." She sighed, walking back into the den. Nick, whom had been in the kitchen, stretched as he headed for the door, waiting for Greg.

"You gonna come with us?" He asked as Greg came downstairs, tired but alert.

"As opposed to walking? I'm going with you. My car is back at the lab." He yawned, scratching the back of his head. "And you?"

"I'm… Uh, could I get a ride?" Lenore asked sheepishly, adding a grin to match. "My friend drove me to work."

"Oh really? Well I guess I could." Greg grinned, and Nick caught it; though he just shook his head, rolling his eyes a little. "For a price."

Lenore stared.

"You have to get coffee with me." Nick laughed at this, walking out the door. Greg and Lenore followed, arguing about the price.

"You're bribing me!" She growled at one point, though not really in hostility. "That's not really fair. I'd rather walk home."

"That hurt," Greg shook his head in mock hurt, "That hurt right here." He pointed to his chest, continuing on with the fake-pain. He sat down in the backseat, Lenore next to him (the passenger seat had a box that Catherine had carried out previously).

"Coffee or walkiiing," Greg chimed, apparently very healed from the incident.

"Fine…" Lenore mumbled, crossing her arms in a childish way and staring out the window, ignoring Greg for most of the ride. Nick looked up in the rear view mirror just in time to see a very triumphant look on Greg's face. Shaking his head, he focused back on the road. Greg continued grinning, his thoughts piling into something of a, 'Score!'.