Author's Note: As promised, an early(ish) update for this week. Expect another early update soon!

Chapter Seven: Common Enemies

Though there was technically no door to the trace lab, Wendy knocked on the frame anyway. Hodges looked up from a microscope to see who it was, then looked back at his particulates without even acknowledging her. She entered anyway.

"I heard you punched Greg in the nose."

Without looking up, he asked, "Are you mad?"

Wendy thought about it. "No, not really."

"That's new," Hodges said. "You're always mad at me about something, and the one time you have good reason to be, you decide not to be."

"It's not something I decided, all right?" Wendy snapped, feeling the anger that she didn't have five seconds ago suddenly bubble to the surface. She let out a frustrated sigh, once again asking herself what it was about David Hodges that got under her skin so well. She took a deep breath. "You know, I came in here to apologize."

"Also new," Hodges noted, still looking through his microscope.

Wendy narrowed her eyes. "Most people say, 'I accept your apology.'"

"Fine," Hodges said. "I accept your apology."

"Liar."

"You lied first."

Wendy was quiet. She had to admit she walked right into that. She bowed her head. "I'm… not sure what to do about this."

Hodges finally pulled his eyes away from the microscope, but he stared straight ahead, instead of turning to Wendy. After a moment, he managed a glance. "Me either," he confessed.

"Well, maybe that's something we can work from," Wendy suggested. "Our mutual ignorance."

"Is that like mutual isolation?"

"I'm trying to make amends here, Hodges," Wendy growled.

"So am I," he returned. "But that's just another thing I've always been bad at."

Wendy raised her eyebrows. "I never thought I'd hear you admit to being bad at anything."

"Well, I am," Hodges admitted with a tired shrug. "I'm bad at a lot of things. Especially when it comes to you."

Wendy began to wring her hands as she nodded. "I get that. Sympathize, even."

"So what does that mean?" Hodges asked. "About… us?"

"Let's… start over," Wendy suggested.

Hodges cracked a smile. "I'd like that."

"OK…" Wendy said, smiling herself. "OK then. Clean slate."

Hodges' expression contorted as he looked away from her. "I'm sorry I called you a… you know."

She smiled. Clearly apologies were not his specialty. It looked like it caused him physical pain to say the words. "I'm sorry I made you say it."

Hodges nodded. "I hope we can…" He squinted at her, then looked sharply away, shaking his head again. "No, I'm sorry. Greg Sanders? Really? I thought you had better taste than that."

"You only rag on Greg so much because you're afraid to admit that you actually like the guy," Wendy said, astutely.

"Maybe I do," Hodges said. "Does that make what you did better or worse?"

"What happened to our clean slate?" Wendy asked.

"I guess…" He sighed. "I guess I just can't. Right now. I can't get the image of you two out of my head."

"Oh my god…" Wendy said, rolling her eyes. "We're in your head?"

"Not by choice, believe me," Hodges said, his eyes wide. "And it's disturbing."

"I see," Wendy said. "You need to get something else in your head."

"I've been trying all day," Hodges told her.

"I can fix that," Wendy said, confidently.

"If I can't, then I don't think you…"

Wendy took a step forward and slid her hands across Hodges' shoulders, resting her forearms against them and linking her thumbs together. She raised her eyebrows in a dare, then tilted her head down and leaned in close so their noses were almost touching. "How do you want me?" she whispered.

Hodges' jaw hung slack as his eyes glazed over. For a moment, he didn't move, he just stared back into Wendy's deep brown eyes. But then, he slowly shook his head. "I'm not sure right now."

She smiled, then leaned forward and he closed his eyes, anticipating her lips against his, but she moved past his mouth and gently kissed his cheek. He opened his eyes again. Wendy pulled backwards to see his face. "You mean so much more to me than a one night stand with anyone else," she told him, honestly. "So let's take it slow. All right?"

"How slow?"

"We'll see," Wendy said.

"Oooh…" came someone else's pained voice, and both Wendy and Hodges turned to the door to see Archie there with an awkward look on his face. The two immediately broke apart. Wendy coughed and Hodges returned to his microscope as if no one else but him was in the room.

"Sorry if this is a bad time," Archie began. "But Henry wanted you both to know…" he smirked, "that he's rooting for Greg on this one."

"What?" both Hodges and Wendy exclaimed in unison.

"I just won't tell him what I saw here," Archie assured them both. "After all, I've got fifty bucks on you, Hodges."

Hodges chose to take this as a compliment and looked truly flattered, much to Wendy's chagrin. "Thanks."

"Any time," Archie said with a wink. "You're ruthless. After all the trouble you went through to sabotage Henry's date with Wendy, I have no doubt you can crush Greg's chances, too."

"Hey!" Wendy protested. "Standing right here, you know!"

"Yeah, I know," Archie said, clearly unimpressed.

"And you're betting on my love life? Can't you dorks find something else to waste your money on?"

Archie shrugged. "What can I say? Slow night. If it makes you feel better, Bobby's got a hundred bucks on you rejecting both of them."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Wendy growled.

Archie shrugged. "Can't say I didn't try. Later." And he ducked out.

"I hate this lab," Wendy said, shaking her head.

"Don't listen to him," Hodges told her.

Wendy narrowed her eyes. "Why are you smirking?"

"Archie bet on a winner," Hodges replied. "Maybe I should follow his lead."

"You're an idiot," Wendy said, in absolute awe.

"But I'm your idiot, right?"

Wendy rolled her eyes as she slugged him in the arm.

"Ow!" Hodges yelped, clearly exaggerating his pain.

But even Wendy had to crack a smile.

The following Monday, Catherine found herself short-staffed and overwhelmed. She looked at her assembled trio of CSIs and her four case slips, then at the stack of paperwork still on her desk. One of the cases was supposedly pretty extensive and would require at least two CSIs, which she couldn't spare. If only Ray hadn't come down with the stomach flu, she thought to herself. I might have been able to swing this. As it was, she looked at Sara, Nick and Greg.

"OK, Greg…" she began, looking at her first case. "How's the nose?"

Greg tapped the bridge of the appendage in question, which had minor bandages across it but was otherwise clearly healing. "I'll survive."

"Good to hear it," Catherine said, "because I need you to take a 406 at the Swanson estate on Eastlake."

"For real?" Greg asked, and she smiled to see the excitement in his eyes. "Rhonda 'Swan Song' Swanson?"

"I thought you would probably appreciate this job the most," she told him, "considering her infamous past as one of the Vegas's best cat burglars. It seems the expert has been beaten at her own game. You think you can handle this on your own?"

"Can I?" Greg said, sounding like a kid in a candy shop as he swiped the assignment. Without a word, he spun around and headed out the door.

"Uh…" Catherine looked from one of her CSIs to the other, then seemed to land on one. "Sara," she said. "419 in Blackbird Park."

"On it," Sara said with a smile. She took the assignment and left.

"Nick, I wish I could go with you on this one," Catherine said. "It's kind of a big job for one person. Dispatch said blood everywhere, and lots of ground to cover…" She trailed off as she watched Wendy walk by her office looking at some files, her ponytail swinging from side to side. Then, she smiled. "Actually, I have an idea."

Nick, whose back had been to the door, followed Catherine with his eyes as she jogged out of her office to catch up with the DNA tech.

"Wendy!" she called, making the woman in question halt and turn to her.

"What's up?"

"419 on Fremont," Catherine said. "You interested?"

Wendy's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," Catherine said, then looked at the description. "Or, rather, as a beheading."

"Did Ecklie clear this?"

"You've been out in the field before on rotations," Catherine said. "And Conrad doesn't have to clear every staffing choice I make. Ray called in sick, and Nick could really use a hand with this."

Wendy hesitated. "Nick?" she repeated.

"He'll be the primary, he just needs another pair of eyes," Catherine said. "Look, if you're worried, he's a great teacher. Not that I think you need looking after. You and Hodges did a great job on that arson case."

"No, that's not…"

Catherine was baffled. She gave Wendy a slightly irritated look saying that she didn't see what the problem was. "You want to make the transfer to the field someday, don't you? C'mon, we need you."

Wendy's eyes focused on something behind Catherine. The supervisor turned to see that she was watching Nick, who was standing in the doorway. He was wearing a forced smile, and Catherine was beginning to wonder what she was missing.

"Catherine's right, Wendy. It sounds like a pretty messy scene. I'm sure I could use a wingman."

Catherine turned back to the DNA tech and held out the assignment expectantly, but Wendy had gone as pale as a ghost. Nonetheless, she seemed to swallow whatever misgivings she had and nodded, taking the assignment from Catherine.

Wendy was even more nervous than she normally was on the rare opportunities that she was allowed into the field. Unlike Hodges, who loathed such "field trips," she relished every last minute when she could get them, although she did feel a bit guilty about being so ecstatic at crime scenes. Unfortunately, today was not as thrilling as usual. As she collected the evidence, her hands trembled. She scolded herself and tried to remember to remain focused.

On the way over, Nick hadn't said a word. Wendy had decided not to press the matter and had contented herself with watching the scenery out the window as her colleague concentrated on driving. She knew he'd only agreed to let her come along out of professional courtesy. Nick wasn't the type of guy to let personal conflict interfere with his job. Nevertheless, Wendy couldn't help but feel a prickly air emanating from him, though he was nothing but polite to her. She knew she deserved every last bad vibe that was being sent her way, and she took it stoically.

Now that they were at the scene, Nick would only speak to her about the evidence and the case, and very succinctly. There was no sign of the usual bad jokes or teasing that generally occurred among those in the CSI club. Wendy tried to pretend that this was normal.

"Body dump," Nick was saying, cataloging what looked like tire marks in blood. "Car was going pretty fast. Tossed the body here… and another car ran over it." He took a few pictures. Wendy had the impression that he was talking more to himself than he was to her. She took a few paces down the road, keeping her eyes on the grassy ditch. She followed a trail in the grass where the blades seemed to have been flattened by something rolling.

"I found his head," she called out.

"Where?" Nick asked, approaching her.

She pointed at the ditch. She wanted to make a joke about how 'heads will roll,' but thought better of it. Instead, she simply answered, "There." She staggered a bit ungracefully down the slope to photograph it then lifted it with her gloved hands.

"Let me see that," Nick said, gesturing at her to bring it over.

Wendy climbed back up the embankment and handed it to him when she was about waist level to him.

There was a catcall from one of the officers. "Hey, Wendy! You giving Nick head too, now?"

There were some snickers from the other cops. Nick tensed as he held onto the dismembered body part while Wendy felt her face turn bright red and she ducked her head, pressing her chin to her chest. She climbed up the rest of the way to get out of that awkward position and turned sharply right before walking a ways away, trying to focus on some skid marks further down the road. These ones were regular skid marks, without a trace of blood in them. She reasoned they could have been from the original car that had dumped the body.

"What's the matter, Wendy?" another cop called out. "Henry, Hodges and Greg not enough for you?"

She closed her eyes tight, cursing herself for reacting to a couple of jeers from a few chauvinists. She reminded herself that this wasn't the first time she'd come across this attitude. After all, being a smart woman in a male dominated profession does have its downsides. But the fact that they were saying it in front of Nick, the fact that he had every right to join them and make fun of her, but didn't, somehow made the taunts that much worse. With a single sniff, she opened her eyes wide, took out her camera, and took a picture of the road.

For a while, she and Nick worked in silence. He would comment when he saw something unusual, and she would let him know exactly what she was doing before she did it, so that nothing could be questioned in court. Once or twice, Nick even gave her a piece of advice about how to collect something, or what to look for. When they were all finished, they packed their kits.

"We done here?" one of the uniforms asked Nick.

"I think so," he replied.

Wendy glanced over and saw that it was the same trio that had called out those jokes earlier. She tried to hold her head up high as she followed Nick past them.

"Hey, Wendy," one of them said, a little quieter as she passed. She decided to ignore him, but he said her name again. "Wendy!"

Reluctantly, she stopped, forced an overly polite grin, and turned to face her harasser, wordlessly asking what he wanted with a raise of her eyebrows.

"I was wondering if you could do me a little favor. Give me a little head's up about who you're thinking of going for next. Seriously, now. Because if it is Nick, I might have to change my bet."

Wendy's smile evaporated. "Oh, I get it. You're in on that stupid thing."

"So, any insight? Help a guy out, I've got alimony to pay."

"Yeah," Wendy said. "Waste your money on something else." She turned to leave again.

He seized her arm, his fingernails digging into her skin. "C'mon," the officer cajoled, licking his lips.

"Let me go," Wendy said evenly, her voice icy and quietly threatening like a dark room with something unseen growling in the corner.

He obeyed, raising his hands in the air as if at gun point, but that slimy smile was still in place. "No harm done! But seriously, now, give me some intel. Because…" and then, he made a lewd gesture with his hips, "right now, my money's on you fucking me—"

Before he could even finish the sentence, and before Wendy could be outraged in her own right, someone else had silenced the cop by swiping him hard across the face. As she stood stunned and blinking, it took Wendy a moment to realize that it had been Nick who had come to her aid. The officer stumbled backwards into his two friends who caught his arms, holding his hands over his face and cursing at Nick. Meanwhile, Nick calmly turned around and walked back over to the car as if nothing had happened. The cop's friends were checking to see if he was OK, looking from him to Nick as if uncertain of what to do next.

Wendy was a bit uncertain herself. She looked wide-eyed from the trio of uniforms to Nick's retreating back.

"I'm reporting you!" the cop with the black eye called at Nick's back. In reply, the Texan did nothing but raise his middle finger as he walked, before throwing his kit in the car.

"You'll keep your mouth shut," Wendy advised, the beast in the shadows stepping into the light. "Unless you want another sexual harassment write-up in your file."

All of a sudden, the cop showed real fear. "Whoah, I was just kidding," he insisted. "God, can't you take a joke?"

Wendy rolled her eyes and turned to walk away herself.

"Fucking bitch," she heard the cop mutter.

She stopped in her tracks, took a deep breath, spun around and kneed the officer in the groin. "I'm tired of people calling me that," she said as he doubled over in pain. "Report me if you want, but I know you and your history, Jackson. I would have thought you'd have had those sensitivity seminars memorized by now." She looked menacingly at his two friends who held up their hands in surrender. She smiled, then turned to join Nick in the car.

He was waiting for her in the front seat. When she climbed in, he turned the key in the ignition and occupied himself with pulling out onto the road. "You shouldn't have kicked him," he said.

"Like hell I shouldn't have," Wendy returned. "You shouldn't have punched him."

"I don't care if I get written up," Nick said. "But now, he's gonna paint you the bad guy, and he has the injuries to prove it."

"You think he's gonna show his purple balls to Ecklie?" Wendy asked. "Because honestly, that's almost worth it in and of itself."

To her surprise, Nick actually smiled. He didn't say anything for a moment as he pursed his lips. "They shouldn't have been saying those things to you," he said at last.

"I'm just impressed you didn't join them," Wendy muttered, looking out the window again.

"Are you kidding?" Nick exclaimed, sounding appalled. "You actually think I'd ever say something like that? Jesus, does no one I work with know me?"

"You wouldn't say it," Wendy conceded. "But you have to admit… when you saw me in Greg's apartment, you were thinking it."

"I wasn't," he insisted, shaking his head.

"Oh?" Wendy pressed, turning to him.

"No. I wasn't thinking about you at all, actually."

"Oh…" Wendy said, looking away again.

There was another long period of silence as Nick drove back to the lab. Wendy dug her nails into her knees and wondered if things between them would ever be OK again.

"I know you're a good person, Wendy," Nick said at last. "And I don't blame you for what happened."

"Why do I feel like that's not exactly true, then?" Wendy asked.

"OK," Nick agreed. "I'm trying not to blame you for what happened. And I've always liked you. Really. Anyone ever talks to you like that again, you let me know. I'll kick his ass."

"Not if I kick it first," Wendy returned with a smirk.

"You're gonna get yourself into trouble with that attitude, you know that?"

"What, you still worried about what Jackson's gonna say about me?" Wendy asked. "Please. Guy can't afford another harassment charge. He's already been disciplined for it three times."

"Really?" Nick said. "How do you know that?"

"Three words," Wendy said. "Mandy, Sofia, and Riley. In that order. Dumbass."

"How come I never heard about any of these?" Nick asked incredulously.

Wendy shrugged. "We don't whine about it. We report it and move on. I mean, what do you take us for, little girls?"

Nick snorted. "Not funny."

"We're used to it," Wendy explained, more seriously. "In our line of work… it happens."

"But it shouldn't," Nick said. "Wendy, whatever is going on with us, don't you ever think I will let people talk like that about you. OK?"

"OK," Wendy promised, knowing that she should have never doubted Nick in the first place.

Greg was whistling as he strolled down the hallway to the lab, having just dropped off some fingerprints for Mandy to run for his case. After his last week, it was nice to begin the new one with an opportunity to meet a real live cat burglar who had only ever served two years in prison. Despite Greg's profession, and his passion for seeing criminals get their just deserts, he had always admired the grace and, frankly, art that Rhonda Swanson had brought to burglary. Every single door of homes she'd hit remained locked from the inside, and every window was untouched. To this day, police had no idea how Swanson managed to slip in and out of so many houses without leaving a trace that she was ever there. In fact, the lack of evidence was sort of her signature, and one reason why it was difficult to make charges stick. Greg hadn't been able to stop grinning when he'd listened to her criticize the crudeness of the method of whoever had burgled her home. She had seemed more upset by the mess of evidence left behind than the fact that she was missing several pieces of jewelry and electronics.

As he rounded the corner, ready to catch some much needed lunch, he stopped dead in his tracks, then backtracked and hid behind the corner. He peeked around it. Nick and Wendy entered the crime lab. He walked ahead of her a bit, but she halted suddenly. Greg wasn't sure what she said, but it made him turn around. He couldn't see Nick's face, but Wendy wore an awkward smile and offered him an equally awkward shrug. He saw Nick shake his head, and a moment later, the two of them embraced. A after a few seconds, they broke apart, and Nick headed off towards his office. Wendy was heading towards Greg. Greg waited with his back flat against the wall, then seized her by the elbow as she rounded the corner, making her stumble.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Jeez, Greg, are you trying to get your ass kicked again?" Wendy asked as she broke away from his grip.

"Please, like you could take me," Greg said.

Wendy looked more than offended. "I'll take that challenge."

Greg hesitated, then backed down. "… Noo, thank you, I've already met my quota for bloody noses this month."

"Hmph," she said, with very smug I thought so overtones.

"Seriously," Greg said, in a harsh whisper. "What just happened between you and Nick?"

"A truce of sorts," Wendy replied.

"How did that happen?" Greg asked.

She smirked. "Let's just say we united against a common enemy."

"Not Ecklie?" Greg said, sounding worried.

"No, just your regular jackass with a badge," Wendy replied. "Nick stood up for me."

"He does that," Greg said, with a proud smile.

"He really does," Wendy agreed, then shrugged. "I mean, we're not best friends or anything, but at least I don't feel like he hates me anymore."

Greg smiled at her. "Yeah, we got a good start on the not-hating road too."

She seemed intrigued. "Is that so?"

Greg gave her a humble shrug. "Yeah, well, ya know…"

She rolled her eyes. "'Yeah, well, ya know…'" she mocked. "No, I don't know. Spill."

"We… might have kissed," Greg said, modestly.

Wendy hit him in the arm, playfully. "You dog," she said with a smirk.

"Hey," Greg said, rubbing the spot she'd hit. "I thought I said no more fists."

"Baby," she accused.

"Funny…" Greg said, smiling, though this time, it was almost sad. "That's what he said."

Wendy frowned, then held onto her elbows. "So Nick and I are OK," she began. "And you and Nick are OK. What about you and me?"

Greg's smile grew. "Are you kidding?" he said. "We're probably the healthiest relationship of any of them."

"You don't feel… weird around me?" Wendy pressed.

A tinge of red crept into Greg's cheeks. "Well, I don't remember much from that night, so…"

"You are such a liar," she said.

"What's my tell?" he asked.

"You're beet red right now," she told him.

"I guess I just think it's best that we… move on," Greg explained. "We were consenting adults and it happened, but… I'd like it if it didn't kill our friendship, so… I try not to think about it. That kiss helped clear things up for me, too."

Wendy sighed. "You know, in some other universe where Hodges didn't exist…"

"I know," Greg agreed. "I… feel the same. Only not about Hodges. The problem is, I'd never want to live in a world where Nick doesn't exist."

Wendy looked as if a strange thought had just occurred to her. She smiled, but her eyes glinted in the florescent light of the lab. "And that's how I know you two were made for each other." Without saying anything else, she turned and walked down the hall.

Greg watched her until she disappeared, a little puzzled by her reaction.