Hi I hope you like this chapter. I'm sure I don't have the exact lines from 'SNOW DAY' but the thought is still the same. If anyone would like to make some corrections, I'd be open to them.

BM D

"Hey Adam," the bespectacled CSI said.

"What is it Danny?" he asked, just a shy of irritated, wiping his shirt.

"Hey, calm down." He said, with palms out in mock surrender. He walked towards the younger man in the locker room.

"I'm sorry Danny." He apologized. "I just spilled coffee on me earlier."

"Oh, at least its quitting time." He tries to console him. "Got plans for tonight?"

"No, not really" he answered as he got his bag out of his locker. "Other than go home and rest. How about you?"

"Me and Flack are going to Sullivan's for a couple of drinks." He answered, opening his own locker. "You want to come?" he asked.

"Why?" he asked, sounding a little rude but was really curious.

"Just thought you might want a drink after today." He cryptically explained. "You sure you're ok?"

"Yes, Danny I'm fine." He reassured him, less irritated but more convincingly, then left before he could insist anymore.

'What was that about?' he mentally asked himself. He could excuse his actions and absent-mindedness to himself, but this.

Danny never asked him outside of the lab. Sometimes Stella would, before Aiden or Hawkes would along with Danny, but never Danny himself. He's sure it's nothing personal. It's not like some sort of conspiracy. He never thought Danny hated him or anything. He just thought that they were two different people that just never got together. They were lab friends, but not exactly out-for-a-couple-of-drinks friends.

He enters the elevator and the smell of the spilled coffee on his shirt caught his attention. Then he's reminded of how much of an idiot he acted earlier. It wasn't just being a jerk to him, but he's been somewhat like this the whole day. He's easily startled. He's not in the present moment and he's been a lot more distant than usual. He just wishes the day to be over.

'It's not his fault.' He silently scolds himself. 'It's not his fault he looks like him, acts like him and basically reminds him of him daily.' He's seen small bits of resemblance in him ever since he started working in the trace lab. He had to do a double take when they were introduced. The comparison never got this bad, only when the day is today.

The only other time he thought he was looking at a ghost was about a couple of months ago. How could he ever forget that day? It was suppose to be a routine process of the scene. It was a drug bust in a warehouse in downtown. It was suppose to be so easy the first few minutes he was there he was working alone. Mac said Lindsay would be coming to help him out and that he should just hang tight.

The next thing he knows he's in the truck with a couple of uniform officers. These big guys in ski masks with gun were shouting at them, telling them to be quiet. They had thick Irish accents. From what he could hear, they were more likely a part of the gang that was here earlier.

When they saw his ID, they found out that he was from the crime lab. They started beating him up more harshly. They knew that's where the cops kept everything they needed: their cocaine and their guns. What they didn't know was how to get them all back and they were going to beat it out of Adam until they found out.

His stomach hurt. His back ached and he was sure he was bleeding from his head.

Irishman: where's our coke?

Adam: I don't know.

Irishman: Stop shitting with me. (hits him on the side of his head)

Adam: I told you, I don't know.

Irishman: You don't know. (Rubbed out a cigarette on his hand, causing him to scream in pain.) Do you know now?

Adam: No! (Burned him again.) Ahh…

Irishman: Now?

It went on like that for what felt like forever. His hands felt like they were on fire. He couldn't take it anymore. He told them.

Adam: Ok, ok, please stop. Please. (They did.) We keep all our evidence in a vault in the crime lab, but it's impossible to open unless you had the combination and only a few people know that.

Then they heard someone coming. The guys in ski masks jumped out of the truck as quietly as they could. The two other uniform officers tied and gagged right in front of him.

"Adam!" someone shouted his name. It was Danny.

"Danny," he called back. "Watch out."

Then they hit the CSI on the back of his head and he went to the ground in a dull grunt. He could hear him grunting as the perpetrators dragged him in the truck. They sat him next to the beaten lab technician, the uniform officers across from them.

Adam's eye sight was blurry from the tears, from the pain, but the minute the perps left them alone he tried to check on his co-worker. He was slumped over, but he didn't look badly beaten or bleeding. After a couple of minutes, he started to come to.

"Ahh… Adam." He grunts out.

"Danny." He replied.

"What happened?" he asked, finally looking up and seeing the bloody lab tech.

"They came out of nowhere." He answered. "I think they're the same guys Flack arrested earlier."

"This ain't good." He said as he sat up right next to him.

The CSI scooted closer to him, turning his back away from the gunmen, who were otherwise preoccupied talking to one another. Slowly, Adam could see Danny take out his cell phone and as quietly as possible dial.

"What's going on in there??" One of the Irishmen yelled as he jumped back in the truck striding over to the blonde.

He mustn't have been quiet enough. Keeping his head down, Danny tries to hide the cell phone before they could see it, but it was too late. The gunman kicked the phone away from him.

"Trying to call one of your cop friends?" he sarcastically scoffed with a thick Irish accent. Then he raised his gun above the CSI's head and slammed the butt of his rifle on his exposed hand.

"Ahhh!!" Danny screams.

He winced and sobbed 'his hand may be broken' he thought to himself. He just looked on, not only fearing but knowing that he couldn't do anything about it. He just looked at his co-worker cowering on the floor carefully clutching his broken hand to his chest.

"That'll teach you." The gunman said, took the phone with him and left them in the back of the truck.

When they were alone, Danny finally moved from his almost fetal position on the floor. He uses his elbows and to move himself up into a seating position next to Adam. They leaned against the same wall, legs outstretched.

In closer inspection, the lab tech could see the other man's left hand. It didn't look as bad as his burns, but it definitely looked broken. The butt of the rifle left a dark impression on the back of his hand. The knuckles were bent up and out like the fingers were pulled back and they stayed that way.

"I'm sorry Danny." His apology stained with a bit of blood from the cut on his lip.

"Why?" he asked, confused about the confession.

"I told them." He admitted between sobs. "I told them everything."

"What?" he asked still confused. "What did you tell them?" he asked, but he only cried a little more. The CSI grabbed his arm and got him to look at him. "Adam, what did you tell them?" he asked again, more firmly.

"They wanted to know where their drugs were." He answered. "I told them we kept them at the lab. They took my ID and my personal password."

"What else?" he asked.

"They," he hiccupped his answer. "They wanted to know where the guns were."

"Shit!" was all he said.

"I'm sorry." He repeated and he didn't say reply.

'Ding' the elevator doors opened.