32) The Wall Spawns Another
(I'm miscounted the rule numbers somewhere and now that we're at 500, I'm not going back to figure it out. So we move forward…)

Two figures dressed in dark clothes and black hoodies moved along the fence at the back of the police station. One stepped on a bottle and it softly popped.

"Shh!" the first figure ordered.

"What the hell are we doing back here?" the second voice, belonging to a one Adam Ross, demanded. He wasn't trying to be quiet.

"Shhh!" the first person ordered.

"Why are we back here?" Adam stopped walking. "I am not moving another inch until you tell me why we couldn't use the front door, Greg."

Greg turned, his face revealed in the distant light on the corner of the building.

In a whisper he asked, "You said you wanted to see something few people have ever seen in Las Vegas, right?"

"Ye—"

"Keep your voice down!"

"Yes," Adam snapped.

"You said you wanted to see something historic."

"Yes!"

"Then shut up, watch where you're walking, and follow me. If anyone knew I was showing you this I'd be in a lot of trouble." Greg started walking again.

"But we're at the police station, Greg!" Adam retorted.

Greg didn't stop walking. Adam sighed and followed his cousin. They came out on a road and Greg fished out his keys. He worked the padlock on the other side around until he could slip a key in and unlock it. He dropped the chain and held the gate open for Adam to go through. Greg went through behind him and locked the gate again.

"This way," Greg quietly ordered.

The two followed the fence up to where it met the building and then to a stairwell. Greg trotted down the stairs and stopped at the door. He pulled a tiny Maglight from his pocket and turned it on.

"Hold this."

Adam took the light, watching him sort through the keys until he found one. He slid it in and then with a lot of face contortions and a few muttered curses, turned the stubborn key and wrestled the door open. Adam was staring at him with a concerned expression when Greg looked at him.

"What?"

"Is this door supposed to even open?"

"Yes. Inside and be quiet."

Adam walked in, finding they were at the bottom of a stairwell. Greg pulled the door closed behind him and walked to the door that led out of the stairwell into the building. Adam walked behind him. Greg slowly pushed the door open, looking around the corner.

At a regular volume Adam began, "Greg, what—"

Greg pulled the door closed, careful not to slam it, and then slapped his hand over Adam's mouth. It stung a little.

"Jesus, Adam! Remember how we always got caught as kids because you wouldn't shut up!? Just this once, shut up! Just follow me without a word, okay? Can you do that? Nod if you can do that?"

Adam sighed but nodded.

"Are you sure? Because if you get us caught and me in trouble I will kick your ass all the way back to New York. I promise it will not be pretty."

Adam didn't look convinced.

"Adam."

Adam didn't answer.

"Adam!" Greg quietly hissed.

Adam rolled his eyes and said against Greg's hand, "All right. All right. Silence from here on out. Happy?"

Greg dropped his hand and checked outside the door again. He motioned Adam to be quiet, then waved him to follow. The two slipped into a dim lit hall. The first thing Adam noticed was it was quiet. The second was that a sign pointed to morgue one way, and records the other. He almost sighed in relief when Greg turned toward records. Greg stopped at the keypad outside the door and swiped a badge. Adam's keen eye noted that unlike Greg's other badge, this one had no picture or identification on it. The pad light changed to green and Greg opened the door, waving Adam in.

Greg closed the door and started down the aisle to his left. Adam fell in beside him, looking around him. It wasn't much different from New York's records: shelves from floor to ceiling with boxes from years and years of cases.

"Want a beer?" Greg asked at a regular volume.

Adam looked at him. He was watching him, waiting for an answer. Adam held back his smile so as not to ruin his moment.

Whispering he answered, "Yes. Please."

Greg laughed. "You can talk now, Squigy."

Adam smiled. "So you think you can kick my ass, huh, Pidge?"

"You know I can."

Adam laughed. "I never lost a fight to you. Ever."

At the end of the aisle, Greg climbed up on a chair in front of a window well. He pulled out a six-pack of beer with only four bottles of beer left. Adam held out his hand when he climbed down, expecting one.

"Not so fast." Greg said, pulling the beers away. "Come on. We're almost there." Greg started down the aisle leading across the room.

Adam could see a row of old, overstuffed filing cabinets at the end. He could just barely make out a door behind the cabinets. "What exactly is it you're showing me?"

"Something. Come on."

They reached the end and Adam watched Greg slip through the narrow opening between a filing cabinet and the wall.

"Come on."

Adam followed him. Greg opened the door and flicked the light on as he passed the switch. Adam stepped through the doorway and stopped short. His response was the same as it had been for so many others that had been led to Las Vegas' best kept secret – he stared in surprise and amazement. Greg sat the beers on the table, took one, and fell onto the sofa. He drank his beer as he watched Adam take in everything from the crazy, mismatched furniture to the leftover Halloween directions, to the writings on the walls, floor, ceiling, and table.

"What is this place?"

"We call it The Wall."

"We?" Adam turned to him. "We who?"

"Some of the lab rats and CSI."

Adam walked over to the recliner near Greg and sat on the edge. "Who? Who knows about it?"

Greg thought a second and then smiled. "We call ourselves The Wall Crew. It's me, Nick, Catherine, Grissom, Hodges – the really annoying guy I warned you about, Archie, Henry and his little brother Jason, Bras – he's the detective you met yesterday, Catherine – oh, I said her already – Gina the receptionist, Wendy and Mandy." Greg thought a moment. "Yeah. That's all."

"And no one else knows about this place? Even with Ecklie knowing? He doesn't seem the type to keep this kind of secret? How did you find out about it? What are all those numbered sentences about anyway?"

Greg started laughing halfway through the bombardment of questions. Adam grinned, waiting.

"Geeze, Adam, you are something, know that?"

"What?"

"You just never changed. You're still all inquisitive and stuff."

Adam's smile faded. "You're not like you used to be. You were a lot more stranger last time I visited."

Greg sipped his beer, picking at a string on the edge of a hole in his jeans. "Lots of things have happened since you were out here last." Greg looked at him. "But maybe now you can tell me why you dropped out of the blue on me yesterday and what's got you all pissed."

"I don't get pissed."

"That's what the rest of the world thinks, but you were practically my brother most summers, so don't tell me something doesn't have you pissed off. Spill it. What's going on?"

Adam sat back in the recliner. "Well… I got this notice I was being laid off. I thought it was Mac that—"

"Mac who?"

"My boss. I thought he'd put it in my box, but he didn't. Then he had a huge blow up with the head of the department over it; apparently he was the one that made the decision. Then Stella—"

"She's the head of the department?" Greg took a sip.

"No. She's a CSI."

"K. Go on."

"Well, she talked to the other CSI and they gave up vacation time so Mac could get the twenty thousand the head said had to be raised to keep me and the other techs being laid off. I don't know how, some political red tape and moving of money involved or something. Anyway! So it was supposed to be all fixed. Then suddenly, it wasn't. I was laid off like the letter said. Well, Mac said it was going to take some time to sort it out, but he promised me I'd get my job back in a week. I couldn't stay there, Greg. You're right. I was pissed. So I got on the first flight here and, surprise!, here I am."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, but if Mac says he'll fix it, he'll fix it. He's good about that stuff."

Greg smiled. He remembered how he felt that way about Grissom. Before he started getting really flaky and unpredictable. Now he didn't know who Grissom was, or if he could even trust him. But that was something he hadn't told anyone about, and wouldn't tell Adam, either. Some secrets were better left unsaid.

"That's cool."

"So… Do you guys like come here and hang out?"

"Yeah."

"Like on breaks and stuff?"

"Yeah. We do. But sometimes we meet down here just for the hell of it. The last time we were all down here was for a Halloween party. That was pretty cool. Jason, that's Henry's brother, he planned it."

"I thought you said his brother was eight?"

"He is."

"Why does an eight year old know about it?"

"Henry inherited him after their parents were killed and he's been coming here since he was six. Plus, he's like Henry, wicked smart. If the two of them could be put in the same brain, the world's problems would be solved overnight."

Adam laughed, but Greg just smiled.

"So how'd you find out about it? And what's with the numbers?"

"I found out about it when I was a lab tech back in the day."

Adam scoffed at him. "It wasn't so long ago."

"Whatever. Hodges, Archie, and Bobby – I forgot, Bobby is in the crew too – showed it to me. From there, it kind of blossomed. Ecklie found out about it by accident – someone left the light on once. He wasn't really ticked about it, but we had to stop doing a few things and get rid of some derogatory stuff. All those numbered things are rules about what lab rats aren't allowed to do anymore – it's sort of bled over to CSI too."

Adam was dumbstruck. Slowly he got up and looked at all the rules around him. He looked down at Greg, who was watching him as he drank more beer.

"There's five hundred rules here!"

"Yep."

"How long have you guys been working on this list?"

"A couple years."

"There are five hundred rules here, Greg!"

"As you pointed out five seconds ago."

"Greg…" Adam turned his eyes back to the rules. "This is… Las Vegas best kept secret. If the public knew about this place…"

"The public is the least of our worries. If the brass above Ecklie, or the other CSI or lab techs knew, this place would be destroyed."

Adam spun around, facing him as he started laughing. "You have a secret club!"

Greg's gaze cooled. "It is not a secret club."

"It is!"

"No. It is not."

"What's that thing called when only a few select people know about it and there's a secret entrance and secret rules?" Adam motioned at the rules. "Oh! That's right! A secret club!"

"You're an ass."

Adam looked back at his butt, then Greg. "At least mine's shapely and not flat like yours. You're still a pancake butt."

Greg laughed at him, shaking his head. Adam turned, reading the rules.

"I want to add some."

"No."

"Come on. Let me add some."

"No, man! You're not on the crew, and if they find out I told you, they'd be ticked. It's bad enough David's wife knows. Oh yeah, David and Robbins are on the crew too."

Adam looked down at him. Greg was peeling the label off his beer bottle.

"The medical examiners know about this place?"

"Just those two."

"They leave rules too?"

"Only if it's about something we've done."

Adam climbed onto the recliner and squatted. "So, tell me the best stories behind some of these."

Greg looked up at them. "The new ones are really good stories."

"New ones?" Adam looked at the list. "Where was it last time you were in here?"

"Five hundred and four." Greg sat up, looking at the next rule:

505. When I've done something wrong at a crime scene, I will not point at a deceased victim and cry, "He/She made me do it!" (Submitted by DustBunnyQueen)

"That was Nick, and that's his handwriting."

"Nick? That guy from Texas?"

"Yeah."

"He did that? He doesn't seem the type."

"Oh, you don't know Nick." Greg swallowed a drink of beer. "There's been a few times him and I have almost gotten fired over the stuff we've pulled. See, we test Grissom and Catherine, make sure they're well prepared for tough suspects or the media. It works out, really."

Adam laughed. "Oh yeah? Kinda like when you decided to see if cornstarch really wouldn't let you sink?"

"I didn't put enough cornstarch in."

"We had cornstarch up our shorts because of you."

"And we learned to add more cornstarch, now didn't we?"

"If you think so. Jackie Chan. You? It's your writing"

Greg laughed at the rule:

506. I am not Jackie Chan. I cannot move like Jackie Chan. Therefore, I should refrain from attempting to stop a suspect like Jackie Chan and avoid the inevitable hospital visit. (Submitted by CSIfreak24 and a friend)

"I try where I can. Sometimes I try so hard I get in trouble for it."

"So were you really hurt?"

Greg covered his face, crying out, "Oh my God! You're going to ask for details too?"

"Just the ones I can tease you about."

Greg dropped his hand, shaking his head. "I pulled…"

Adam grinned, waiting. "What? What was it?"

Greg rolled his eyes, and with a heavy sigh told him, "I pulled a groin muscle. I couldn't have sex for weeks."

Adam's laughter started quiet and polite, but it quickly turned into a roar. He fell back in the chair, sliding down to sit in it. He spilled beer on his shirt. Greg didn't laugh, since he didn't find the injury story as funny as Adam – after all, his girlfriend at the time had not been happy he couldn't give it up for four weeks.

Adam finally calmed down and the laughter slowly subsided. All that was left was wiping eyes while the last few giggles escaped.

"Ya done? Was it good for ya?"

"Anytime you look like a total horse's ass, Pidge, it's always good for me!"

Greg looked at his beer bottle. "One reason. Give me one reason I'm not going to make you wear my beer?"

"Everyone else would ask how it got spilt."

Greg drank his beer instead. "Moving on."

507. When called to my supervisor's office, I am not allowed to sing, "We're off to see the Wizard!" (Inspired by Starsgirls)

"That was a rare glimpse into Archie on nine Red Bulls and I dunno how many Pez."

"Nine Bulls? Was he bouncing?"

"Like a high bounce ball. Grissom first thought he was drunk, but then we found the evidence in the trash in his lab. He said he'd only had four hours of sleep before work because of some pipes bursting in his apartment, and it was the only way he knew to keep awake."

"But Pez?"

"Those started after the third Red Bull."

"Who wrote that 'un?"

508. Using all the colors of your fingerprint dust or the various colored evidence markers in a gay bar is not "showing my support for their lifestyle and community."

"Catherine," Greg said as he let out a breath. "Yep… Another Nick and Greg busted for trying to show support. We thought it was a good idea. Very festive you might say."

"You might. She didn't. Stella would be all over me if I pulled that."

Greg lifted an eyebrow. "In a really good all over way?"

"No. In a very written up all over way."

"Ohhh… That's sad."

"Sad?"

"You showed me that picture of everyone and she's really hot."

Adam looked at him. "You realize that's like telling me that my mom or sister is hot, don't you? It'd be like me telling you Catherine or Riley are hot."

"But they are, and Catherine used to be a stripper, so I wouldn't find offense to that."

"Really? She was a stripper?"

"All through college, yeah."

"I'm working in the wrong city."

Greg laughed. "Hey, we always have openings – if the whole layoff thing doesn't pan out."

Adam wrinkled his nose as he shook his head. "I'd be too close to home. I need distance."

Greg nodded. "I hear you, Adam. Your dad's a prick."

Adam sobered for a second, then smiled. "So who was that?"

509. Your supervisor or co-worker is not psychic, so telling him, "Pinky, do you know what I'm thinking?" will not elicit mutual enjoyment.

"Henry."

"How old is Henry?"

"He is… Twenty-three, I think."

"Isn't that like a cartoon or something?"

"Yeah. Two mice, one wants to take over the world."

"Isn't he a little old to be watching cartoons?"

"Says the man who watches Voltron and Transformers religiously."

Adam blushed, grinning. "You promised that was our secret."

"It is. Only the Wall knows. And the Wall, doesn't talk. Ever."

"Every?"

"Not unless we ask it to. Take for example this rule here…"

510. H2O doesn't care about humans.

"It enlightens us to the fact that we should never taunt the rain gods."

"How?"

"When the rain approaches, and the body is in a gulch, we should not care about the body. We should run for the hills and be thankful with our lives."

Adam stared at him. "Uh-huh. How many of those have you really had tonight?" He motioned at the beer.

"You asked."

"Yeah. But you weren't supposed to go all Buddha on me."

"You asked!"

"You weren't supposed to go all Buddha on me!"

"Terd."

"Jerk."

"Whore."

"Slut."

There was a pause and then the two started laughing.

"Moving on…" Greg looked up at the rules.

511. "Live" and "hero" are rarely in the same sentence.

"This is Nick," Greg told him.

"What happened?"

"He got it in his head that he'd chase down a guy that robbed a store. Got shot at a few times."

"That happens to my CSI all the time."

"Yeah, well, we're not supposed to chase suspects. Ever. Grissom wasn't pleased about it and I heard him tell Nick that exact phrase. I guess Nick felt it must be written."

"Why? What happens when it's written?"

"You never, ever, never do it again. Well, sort of. Much to our supervisor's chagrin, we find ways to bend them, but hey, it gives all sorts of new and entertaining rules."

"I bet you supervisors abuse that never, ever clause then."

"Not so much. Course, then there's rules like this next one that we all stand by without much sway, for obvious reasons."

512. When I don't know where the key to the travel trunk is, I should not show my supervisor how the suspect put the victim in the trunk.

"That was Hodges. He was trying to impress Ecklie and Grissom – again. Sufficed to say, the keys were in the trunk, and he did not impress anyone. We did prove one thing though."

"What's that?"

"It was possible for the suspect to put the victim in the trunk, and the victim could have lived for several days. Hodges was stuck in it for five hours. He then tried convincing them he needed time off for mental wellness because the event traumatized him."

"He's a little bit girly, isn't he?"

"Yes. He is."

"Did you do that, Greg?"

513. I will not arrest a mime for annoying me

"No. No. That was actually a less than shining moment for Catherine. The mime kept coming into the crime scene, mimicking her, and all around pissing her off. So she finally demanded he be arrested. Well, the officer arrested the mime, but that's when things went south. He'd just gotten off his shadow tour, and it was his second day on his own, so they both ended up in trouble. The guy won't even speak to Catherine now."

"Shadow tour?"

"That's what the unis call it when a rookie is put with a veteran. They 'shadow' them."

Adam laughed. "In New York they call it litter box training or gopher time."

"I don't get it."

"Rookies fail to see the need to use the restroom when it's available, and decided to hold it when they really shouldn't. Or the veteran sends them on errands all the time – so they go-fer. Get it?"

Greg laughed. "Same country, same business, totally different worlds."

"I hear that. Is that Hodges again?"

"No. That's Ecklie's handwriting."

514. Claiming that Mother Nature smote you and detained you in the restroom is no excuse for handing in case notes on rolls of toilet paper.

"And who did that?"

"I really don't know."

"You did it?"

"No. I really don't know."

"Oh. I thought you were playing with me."

"But I wish I did. I'm sure it's a good story."

515. I am not John Connor. I will not storm a building with a Terminator cyborg of any model.

"Now that, I know nothing about."

"Riiiight."

Greg grinned. "Seriously, dude, I know nothing. I swear on my mother's eyes, I know nothing."

"Now you sound like Danny."

Greg laughed harder.

"I thought you CSI weren't supposed to storm anything? Isn't that what you just said?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. Well. We… Forget. Sometimes."

"Forget? I seriously doubt your boss guy believes in sometimes forgetting."

"Ecklie or Grissom?"

"I'll go with both and buy a vowel."

"Who's this?"

516. We do not stick our tongue out at onlookers wanting a picture. Invariably they, or someone else in the crowd, will be working for the press, and that picture will end up on the Mayor's desk during election month.

Greg began laughing so hard he couldn't answer. Adam grinned, watching him and waiting. Greg slowly was able to control himself.

"Gina did that. That's her handwriting."

"She's the receptionist, right?"

"Yeah."

"Why did she do that?"

"Oh, we had this huge profile case – some drug lord's daughter was murdered – and coming in one day there was a herd of paparazzi and journalists outside. She gets real testy with them anyway, so this one was bugging her for details, even after she told him she's a receptionist, she knows nothing. When he wouldn't listen, she turned around and stuck her tongue out at him. The cameras went off and almost immediately she knew she was going to get busted. The picture ended up in the paper, the paper ended up on the mayor's desk, he mayor ended up calling Ecklie. Ecklie gave her a slap on the hand."

"He must like Gina."

"Everyone likes Gina. She's a little bossy and testy, but she knows everything that's happening here and she knows everyone. And she has a huge crush on Nick, but Nick doesn't know that – but everyone in the Crew knows it. She won't tell Nick and has threatened total annihilation unto the person that tells him."

"That's sweet – in very twisted, self-torturing way."

Greg nodded. "That's Gina."

"Who's that?"

517. I will no longer end a short observation with "you're doing it wrong."

"That's Archie. It just cropped up all of a sudden and we got really, really tired of hearing it. So apparently Catherine wrote it."

"Wow! Isn't that next one the truth!"

518. If it looks like a 'textbook case,' you've looking at it wrong.

"Oh yeah. And Grissom gets peeved if we even say a case is a textbook case. It's like his axiom or something."

"Yeah, but isn't it usually true?"

"You shouldn't take the side of a man you know only by hearsay, Squigy. It might make me leap from this couch and beat you up."

"Right. How did you get tonight off anyway? Aren't you guys short handed?"

Greg shrugged. "I told Grissom it's not like you to just show up, and you came all the way from New York, so whatever is wrong must be serious. He let me trade my next day off for tonight. So you had better feel real special, Adam. I gave up a date with a hot chic for you."

Adam didn't laugh, so Greg lost his smile.

"I am, Greg. I really am. I really needed this."

Greg smiled a little. "Ditto."

"Are you Doctor Who?"

Greg grinned, drinking his beer instead of answering.

519. You are not Doctor Who, your Denali is not the Tardis, and you cannot time travel.

"Are you?"

"Shhhhh. Don't tell anyone.

"You are?"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh."

"Apparently no one believes that."

"Apparently. I could'a have sworn my Denali was the Tartus. I fell asleep at one crime scene and woke up at another."

"You were driving?"

"No… No. I think my alter ego was behind it. His name is Nick."

Adam laughed. "You sure you want to admit that?"

"No. No I'm not. That was written by Brass because of him."

520. I will not carry my sidearm in my waistband to improve the look of my boy parts.

"Seriously? He did that?"

"He said he needed it was in his way in his side holster. When Brass saw it, he about had a heart attack and then tore Nick a new one about safety and all this other crap. Nick said he hadn't been yelled at like that since he was sixteen and dinged his dad pick-up."

"I imagine Brass probably gets that fatherly vibe here."

"No. Grissom is dad, Catherine is mom. And it may be written that we can't call them that, so we don't."

"You don't think they hear about it."

"They do. I'm sure they do. But they've never say anything. That's Nick's informants. Well, they are now."

521. Men with hairy legs and beards, dressed in tight evening gowns, make the best informants.

"Who's were they before?"

Greg grew quiet and picked at the label on his beer. "Someone else's. Nick picked them up after… Well… After he left."

"He didn't leave on good terms?"

"He died."

"Oh." Adam looked at his own beer. He chugged several swallows, then asked about the next rule:

522. Dogs would rather eat your badge than respect it.

That made Greg laugh. "Brass does not have a good way with dogs. They seem more interested in snacking on him than obeying him. He says he's more of a pet rock type of guy."

Adam laughed, and then jumped when his phone rang. He pulled it out of a pocket and quickly sat his beer on the floor.

"Be quiet while I'm talking to Mac."

Greg nodded. Adam hit the button to answer and then put it on speaker.

"Uhm, hi, Mac."

"We got it to go through, Adam," Mac told him.

"I-I'm not laid off anymore?"

Mac's chuckle was warm. "No. You are not. So I'll see you in here bright and early."

"Oh…" Adam hesitated. "Mac, I don't mean to be disrespectful or anything, but I can't be in until afternoon."

"You're not drunk are you?" Mac asked. There was a tone that hinted the wrong answer would be bad.

"No. No. But… I guess I didn't have faith or something. I… I went to Las Vegas to visit my cousin and get a little perspective. I'm in Las Vegas right now."

There was a pause. When Mac spoke they could hear his smile. "So maybe I should schedule you for tomorrow?"

"No. I can get a flight tonight and be in by the afternoon. I can sleep on the plane."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay. Get in as soon as you can. See you tomorrow, Adam."

"Okay. Mac, thank you."

"Any time, Adam. Good night and have a safe trip."

"I will."

Mac hung up and Adam grinned at Greg. He returned it.

"I'm back on! Yeah!"

Greg laughed. "You really weren't convinced he could do it, were you?"

"Well, I… No."

Greg nodded, drinking the last of his beer. He got up and grabbed his second, then fell back on the couch.

"That is such a true rule. I mean… Really true." Adam commented.

523. The one report you forgot to dot an 'i' or cross a 't' will be the one with hundreds of pages that will be brought into question by the other attorney, will result in a trial that goes on for weeks, and these weeks will run over the week you took off six months ago and which the plane ticket is non-refundable.

"I, personally, haven't had it happen. Yet. But Nick's had it happen three times, Catherine once, and Grissom a couple dozen."

"Oh, Danny had it happen a couple months ago and he was ticked! The entire lab gotta hear about how mad he was. And in the end, the guy was released. He was furious!"

"I bet. I'm sure I'll get to know how it feels sooner or later."

"That rule has happened a few times to my CSI."

524. It only becomes an unsecured crime scene after you've shown up.

"Us too. I've gotten to where I won't go on the scene unless I have a partner with a gun or all able bodies have been removed."

"Why don't you get a gun? Can't you carry one?"

Greg shrugged. "I dunno. I just don't really want one. Guns aren't me."

"Someday that might change."

"Until then, I'll let Riley, Nick, and Catherine carry them."

"Does that happen a lot?"

525. If the dispatcher tells you, 'You can't miss it,' rest assured you will.

"If only there was a way to prevent it from happening! At least three or four times a week. Even though I know the city, I don't know the county roads. So I'm always suspicious of a dispatcher that tells me that."

"I'd be too. I've lived in New York for years and I still don't know all the roads."

"You work in the lab. You don't need to know the roads."

"I've worked in the field a couple times."

"Your boss trusts you to work the field? That's just frightening. Should I tell him about the chicken you blew up?"

"I did not blow up the chicken!"

"You gave it an Alka-Seltzer."

"That was a seagull, and I didn't do it. Tommy Akins did that."

"Then why were you caught at the scene?"

Adam made a face. "You are not my friend."

"I am and you know it."

"So was that one of your gun toting buddies?"

526. Never draw fire. It irritates everyone around you.

"Nick. Brass wrote that. The sad thing is Nick didn't mean to draw fire. It goes back to rule 524. That scene wasn't secure, the people weren't as under control as they should have been. So he starts working and all hell suddenly breaks loose. He said he got separated from the police somehow, and pinned between the shooters and police. He tried to make a run for better cover and that just happened to be where Brass and two officers were, hence, drawing the fire. Brass was shot in the leg, another officer in the leg and shoulder, Nick got it in the thigh. They were not happy with him."

"But he didn't have cover. That's not fair.

"He had cover. A refrigerator. He felt like his ass was in the breeze and if he didn't move, he was going to get shot by our boys."

"They're that bad of a shot?"

"I don't think so, but Nick's been shooting guns since he was four, so he thinks he's all that with guns."

"Ohhhhh. Male ego at its height?"

"Only with guns. That's about the only time I want to just clock him. Any other time, we're good."

"Don is like that."

"Who's Don?"

"A detective on the force."

"Ah. About guns?"

"Guns and women. Thinks he's Casanova with the ladies." Adam frowned. "Unfortunately…"

"He is?" Greg asked, starting to laugh.

"Lindsay says it's his eyes. They get the ladies every time. I'll just have to take her word for it."

"What about his eye?"

"Bright blue."

"Awe. I guess we'll both have to take her word for it, cause if it ain't on a girl, I don't get it."

"I bet you'd like Lindsay. She's from Montana."

Greg opened his mouth, snapped it shut, and then grinned. "I almost said what's a country girl doing in the city, but then you're from Phoenix."

"Phoenix is big, Greg."

"Compared to New York?"

Adam wagged his head. "Point taken. She doesn't act all country though. She's pretty street savvy. Or so I'm told."

"She cute?"

"I showed you the picture."

"In the dark. I only really saw Stella. Is she cute?"

"I dunno. I work with her. Sure. She's cute." Adam dug his wallet out and handed the picture to Greg. He pointed at Lindsay. "That's her."

Greg smiled. "Hey. She is cute. She single?"

"I don't know. She and Danny were a thing for a while, but I don't know what's happening there. Why?"

"You should ask her out." Greg handed the photo back.

"We're treading on the asking about a sister territory again."

"You are just all about the family there, aren't you?"

Adam stared at the picture. "They helped me keep my job. Yeah."

Greg started working on the label on his beer bottle, caught up in his thoughts. He could appreciate the sentiment Adam held for his co-workers. There was still a little of that feeling left for his own co-workers, but it was shaky these days. Nick was taking outlandish risks with his life, Catherine was caught up with home life, Grissom was distant, and Riley was new. He felt awkward every time he was at work lately.

"Who wrote that one?"

Greg glanced at Adam, then the rule he was staring at:

527. The M.E. doesn't care why you've come to view the body wearing a dress and heels.

"Our M.E., Robbins. I… I've got nothing here."

"That was you?"

"It was Halloween, I was called in from a costume party. My girl was the guy, I was the gal. I was told to go to the morgue first for the report. See, I was thinking of how to get everything done the fastest. Come to work, through that door we came in so no one saw me, get the report, go to the locker room and change, and then get to work. Robbins… Didn't see that way."

"Is he all about the procedure?"

"Yeah. He really is. David, his assistant, he's a kiss up to him, but when Robbins is gone, he's not so much. He's a marshmallow compared to Robbins."

"Sid isn't. That's our M.E. But he's also a lot more relaxed. He totally gets I hate being around dead bodies so I don't have to go in to pick up stuff. He'll meet me at the door with them."

"That's cool. Robbins isn't so nice to Hodges or Mandy. He makes them come and get it. That's when he'll play the 'I'm disabled' card. Really annoys them."

"That's cruel. So can I add a rule?"

"No."

"Come on. Let me add a rule."

"I said no! You're not on the crew. You can't add a rule."

"Tell them you added it."

"They know my handwriting."

"Tell them you were drunk."

"There's a rule about that."

"Where?"

"Right there. Rule number 441."

Adam looked up the rule and shrugged. "Okay. You were sleepy."

"Sleepy?"

"Doesn't it work?'

"Not so much. No."

"Please?"

"No."

Adam began repeating 'please' to which Greg repeated 'no,' until suddenly Greg bellowed, "Alright! What are you? Three?"

"Where's the chalk?"

"Over there. In the nightstand drawer."

Adam jumped up and found the chalk. "How do I get up there?"

"A chair or your super powers. Your call."

Adam found a chair and climbed up on it. He added:

528. I will not stare at a suspect in an attempt to use my mind powers to scare them into confession. (Adam's handwriting)

Adam stepped off the chair and was grinning proudly as he grinned. Greg was staring at his beer bottle, picking at the label.

"What? Did I do it wrong?" Adam asked.

Greg looked at him, then the rule, shaking his head. "Naw. You didn't do it wrong."

"Then what's wrong?"

Greg smiled, looking back at him. "It's just been a long time since I've been down here and had real fun – like it was before everything around here went to hell. It feels good, normal."

Adam sat down on the chair. "It hasn't been good lately?"

"No. We had a CSI leave that had been here forever, Sara. She just up and left. I always thought we were friends, but she didn't even mention she was thinking of leaving. Then another CSI that had been here forever was shot – by the Under Sheriff."

"You're shitting me!"

"No. And Grissom's been acting strange since then. He's become real reclusive and distant. It's really hard when the man you look up to seems to be falling apart before your eyes."

Adam looked at the chalk in his hand. "I guess if Mac did that I'd feel that way too. Sometimes I have to remind myself he's human just so I don't forget he can mess up too."

"Yeah. I guess that we have to do that, don't we?"

Adam looked up at him. "I'm sorry I couldn't be around for all that. You should have called me. I would have come."

Greg smiled. "I know you would have, but… I have to deal with this myself. Isn't that being grown up?"

Adam shook his head. "No. Being grown up is knowing when you ask your best cousin for help. Even if it's just a phone call, it still works out. I'm always here to listen."

Greg grinned. "Are you going girly on me?"

Adam laughed. "Yes! And I have a dress and heels to match!"

The two laughed. Adam got up and turned to face the television. "Does this work?"

"Some days."

"Do you still like making fun of old movies?"

"Yes."

"Let's see if we can find one to make fun of." Adam flicked it on.

"You only have twelve channels to chose from."

Adam changed channels until he found an old black and white Godzilla movie. He grabbed his second beer and fell into the recliner.

"You can take me to the airport when it's over."

"K."

They spent the next hour finding all sorts of things in the movie to make fun of.

(This bred the New York wall, CSI and Lab Rat No-No's. More rules, more zany stories…)