Thanks for my reviews, you amazing peeps! Keep them coming! It makes the chapters faster. Sorry for the slight wait. There are just a few more introductions in this chapter, but please bear with me. It's not the best, I'm sorry. My rule: If you want someone to appear, merely tell me and I will put them in. If you have already asked for someone, I swear that they will appear soon! Still taking requests for pairings...

BTW – I don't know if Horatio speaks Spanish. If he doesn't, please pretend for me? And remember, there are only six main characters – Greg, Sara, Nick, Catherine, Warrick and Morgan. They're the main characters.

Also, Thanks to those who helped me with how high school works! You really helped. unfortunately I am still slightly confused, but remember, Atwater is for 'gifted' children, therefore it is set up slightly differently, lol.

I know it's not the best, I'm really sorry, but please, Read, Enjoy, Review

Chapter Five# Happy Families#

Morgan slid out of the car and waltzed up to her front door, waiting impatiently for her mother when she got there.

"Honey, Jonny's going to be here soon-"

"Great." Morgan muttered sarcastically. Not that she didn't like Jonathon, her mom's boyfriend. She did. He was funny and really nice to her. Treated her like a friend rather than a 'girlfriend's kid'. Lindsay had pointed out that he was also very good looking, and bared a strong resemblance to Leonardo Dicaprio, but Morgan wouldn't go there. No, the trouble was that her dad was, unfortunately, staying with them whilst his house was fumed for termites.

And her dad plus Jonathon with no witnesses...

"Mom!" she called. "Can I have tea at Lindsay's?"

"You can't invite yourself over. No."

"But mom-"

"No buts. Here's the key. Don't leave your stuff in the hallway."

"When do I ever?" Morgan muttered, skipping up the stairs to her room. When she locked the door, the happy exterior faded.

She pulled her bed out of the way to reveal her hidey hole. No one knew about it. Not her mom, her dad, Jonathon or even Lindsay. No, this was her secret place. She snuck in to the nest of blankets and her spare duvet and picked up the book lying there. It was the stupidest thing she had ever seen. A teenage girl's 'oh my god I have a spot I am going to die' sort of book. She threw it across her room, trying to remember why it was in her space. Oh, yeah. It was a little darker than she remembered.

It's about someone who shares my dirty little secret. Morgan thought.

She kicked off her shoes and chucked them onto her bed. Putting on her huge headphones, she flicked once again through the worn pages of her copy of 'The Book Thief', by Markus Zusak. She had fallen in love with the appealing, exciting cover aged eleven, and had hardly gone a week without it since. Narrated by Death, it was both heart warming and extremely depressing, set in Nazi Germany around an orphan named Liesel, who goes to live with a foster family. The first time Morgan had read it, she was sure it would end happily. But when she reached the end, she had cried for almost a day. It wasn't that the girl had lost almost everything. It was the sense of being too late, having lost chances and such.

She opened it on a much worn page and began to read.

"On the floor, Rudy laughed.

Then he closed his eyes, clenching them hard.

Liesel rushed over.

She crouched above him.

Kiss him, Liesel, kiss him.

'Are you alright, Rudy? Rudy'

'I miss him,' said the boy, sideways, across the floor.

"Frohe Weihnatchen,' Liesel replied. She helped him up, straightening the suit. 'Merry Christmas.'"

It was one of her favourite scenes. Two teens, missing their fathers. She missed hers too. But their fathers were fighting to protect them. Morgan's wasn't even willing to fight for custody.

Maybe that's why she had turned to extreme measures.

As she continued to read, the teenage book about the beginnings of bulimia lay abandoned on the floor.

CSIVCSIVCSIV

Greg kicked around the house aimlessly. Ryan and Archie had long since gone home. His mother, needless to say, had been ecstatic to see her cousin's son again, and had badgered him with questions for about half an hour before Greg could finally drag him to his 'den' with Archie.

Now, Greg's bedroom was a mess. He was a teenage boy, what did people expect? But his den...Greg did everything in his den. X-box, TV, sleepovers, guitar practice, talking to friends, even homework. He had a mini fridge stocked with healthy snacks (and a couple of unhealthy ones hidden at the back), and a water dispenser that his dad had had at work, before they replaced it with a coffee machine.

His den was immaculate, but comfortable. Everything was in place, but it wasn't the sort of place where you would feel afraid to move anything. It was casually tidy. It had amused Archie that when Greg had moved, he had completely changed his bedroom, whilst his den remained almost exactly the same. Greg's prize surfboard still hung above the sofa bed on easy access brackets, despite the fact there was nowhere to surf in Vegas.

Ryan was impressed with his den, which was saying something, as Greg had noticed a hint of OCD about his cousin's personality.

Now, Greg was bored. Bored, bored, bored. There was only one thing to do.

He went back into his den and picked up his phone.

"Hello?"

"Archie, I'm bored."

There was a loud sigh on the end of the line. "I left...two and a half minutes ago, Greg. I was already late for dinner. I need to go."

"Whoops, sorry Archie." Greg said, not sounding sorry at all

"Yeah, yeah. Call Henry. See if he's asked Mandy out yet."

"Oh, that's a good idea!" Greg grinned. "Thank you Archie." He could practically see his best friend shaking his head as he hung up. He redialled the phone and waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Henry!" Greg cried happily. "Oh, wait I mean, it's the ghost of-"

"Hi Greg."

"Hey! How's life in San Gabriel? Are you bored stiff without us yet?"

"Uh... no. We're surfing right now."

"Wow, you could hardly stand up on your board last week. Now you can do it on the phone? Impressive."

"Haha. Well, Mandy and Bobby are trying to surf. The waves aren't good." Henry replied.

"Trust me; they are much better than Vegas. Archie is already suffering from withdrawal symptoms."

"I can imagine. So, any hot girls in Vegas?"

"Of course. But what about Mandy?"

Henry was instantly on the defensive. "What about her?"

"She's quite hot. I might ask her for a long distance relationship." Greg teased.

"No!" Henry burst. "I, uh...well, she uh..."

Greg laughed. "Go for it Henry. Ask her before some sophomore does."

"Really?"

"Of course. Does the great Greg ever lie?"

"Yes."

"What? When?" Greg cried, outraged.

"When you told me to go to the shops and ask for waterproof towels, dehydrated water tablets and a tin of elbow grease, and that the assistant would be helpful. For one."

"Well, you didn't believe me."

"No, but what about the time when-"

"Henry! You're changing the subject. Just ask her."

"Okay. I will try."

"Good! So, when are y'all coming to Vegas?"

"Y'all?"

"Gimme a break, I've been hanging around a Texan all day."

"Oh. Well, I dunno. Maybe at Christmas?"

"Awesome!" Greg sang. "Oh, I gotta go. Mom's calling me for dinner. Bye Henry!"

"Bye, Greg!"

Greg raced down the stairs to the dining room.

"GREGORY HOJEM SANDERS!"

He paused, his foot suspended in midair.

"What have I told you about running on the stairs?" his mother glared at him.

"I'm not a baby!" Greg protested. "I'll be fine-"

"Do you know how many people die each year falling down the stairs?"

"Jeg beklager mamma!" Greg apologised in Norwegian, hoping to escape some of the anger.

"Don't you 'jeg beklager' me, Greg! You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry, mom." He murmured miserably, his good mood deflated.

"Oh, Greg..." his mother looked sad. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"But you don't even let me do anything." Greg pouted. He knew how whiney he sounded and hated it, but at the same time his mother's obsession with smothering him was beyond funny.

"Greg, I...I can't lose you!"

"Why do you even think that you would?" Greg shouted, finally snapping. He had heard it so many times before. And he had been having a great day until his mom ruined it with her 'protection'. Again. "I'm sick of this! Always being mollycoddled. I just want to be normal!"

"Greg,"

"I'm not hungry." Greg turned and began stomping back up the stairs. He couldn't believe his mom.

The door opened, and Greg's father walked in. It took him about five seconds to realise what was going on.

"Greg! Come back down, please." He called calmly.

Greg rolled his eyes and dragged himself downstairs.

"Let's just have dinner, okay?" the man asked, trying to hold his family together.

"Fine." Greg muttered, as he shuffled to the table.

His mom had tears in her eyes as she leaned towards him. "Greg, one day you will under-"

"Save it, Elise." Peter Sanders sighed as Greg pushed past the both of them into the dining room. "That will just make it worse. Let's just eat, okay?"

CSIVCSIVCSIV

Catherine waved goodbye to Calleigh at the front door, her bubbly, girly exterior fading the minute she crossed the threshold. She slouched up to her room, not bothering to tell anyone she was home.

She could hear the moans coming from the bedroom. Her mom was with someone. She didn't care who anymore - they usually came, did her mother and left without being aware of Catherine's existence. She was glad about it; out of the few occasions when they did notice her, she had been kissed against her will twice, and had four men ask her for 'a go'. It sickened her.

"I'm just a dancer!" Her mother used to insist, but she didn't bother anymore. Now it was just "we need the money".

Locking herself in her bedroom, Catherine yelped upon seeing someone sitting on her bed. Then she relaxed. "Don! What are you doing here?" She cried happily, recognising one of her best friends from New York, who by a stroke of pure luck was also in her homeroom. He jumped of her bed with a smile that would melt any girl's heart and gave Catherine a huge hug.

"You looked like you needed that all day, Cat."

"Thanks." She said dryly.

"Aw, c'mon Cath!" He complained as she pushed away. He smiled apologetically. "I just meant you looked a little lost. Lemme guess, without Stell there to be your right arm and left leg, you're hopeless?"

She laughed. "You tell her that. No, I just...I get sick of being judged all the time, y'know?"

"Yeah." Don nodded, sitting on the bed with Catherine, a strong comforting arm around her. "I totally get you. But hey, at least you didn't get called gay, right?" She laughed, and he continued with a twinkle in his eye. "Who was that kid you were dancing with then, he looked like your type...you gonna ask him out?"

"Don!" Catherine slapped her friends arm. "He's a sophomore!"

"That never bothered you before." She glared at him. "He's MJ's younger brother. And he's a nice guy, but only someone I'd like as a friend. Like you."

Don could tell from his friend's tone that she was serious. "Anyone take your fancy?"

She shrugged. "There're some good-looking guys sure...I..."

Don studied her face. "You've fallen for someone that you think you can't have because he's in a different clique, haven't you?"

Catherine looked at him in shock. "How...?"

Don grinned. "Your face. And you're talking about being judged. And you've been quieter than usual all day. Not that anyone else would have noticed."

"Okay... I can't...can't stop thinking about that sophomore Nick Stokes was with, Warrick Brown. It's not like I'm in love with him, but there's just something about him that, I don't know..."

Don smiled. "And...?"

Catherine sighed angrily. "Well, the others have already labelled him a dork."

"Oh, Cath..." Don sighed, knowing how she felt. "You remember when I fell for Wendy Simms, that 'geek' and everybody laughed? Well, I saw her today. Talk about awkward."

"I thought you were over her...?"

"I am, but that's not the point, Cath. What I'm saying is, if you really think you like him, don't tell people like Calleigh Duquesne. They'll wreck it for you."

"Are you saying I should hide?" Catherine asked, anger rising, and Don's free hand went up in surrender.

"No. I'm just saying wait until you're sure you have real feelings for the kid, because if you say something to someone like Calleigh and you don't, you could ruin both of your social lives. From what I saw of him, he seems like a nice enough guy, but he doesn't need any more bad publicity, trust me."

"It's not like I am deeply in love with him. I just...there's something about him that draws me in." She sighed. "What about you, Flack? See anyone you like?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Well, that's the second reason I'm here."

"What?" Catherine asked suspiciously, a small smile on her face.

"What do you think of Jess Angell?"

She smiled. "She's really nice. You like her?"

"Oh, she's hot...I wanna get to know her."

Catherine smiled. "You wanna stay for dinner?"

Don frowned sadly. "Catherine...my dad will probably be working overtime already so I'll have to get Sam dinner, and..."

"Please..." Catherine begged. "My mom's already at it, I need someone to keep me sane. Please, Don."

Don rolled his eyes. "Fine. If it's cool with your mom."

"You know it will be. Don't you wish Stella was here?"

Don laughed. "Yeah, but not as much as you I bet." Catherine glanced at her friend. The three of them, Don, Catherine and Stella were close, had been since Catherine moved to New York. When she found out that he was also going to Atwater, Catherine had been over the moon. He was family to her, more so than her mom, anyway. Catherine sighed. Her school life was fine. Her social life was great.

Her home life sucked.

CSIVCSIVCSIV

"I'm home grandma!" Warrick called through the small, cosy house, happily making his way to the kitchen.

"Good thing, too. It's almost eight o clock. You get five hours of detention already?" His grandmother joked.

"No. I'm sorry, grandma. I was at a friend's house."

Lily Brown looked up, a large grin on her ageing face. "I told you. I told you that you would make friends. What's his name?

"Nick Stokes."

"Stokes? As in Jillian Stokes' little boy?"

Confused but amused, Warrick chuckled. "I don't think he'd like it if he heard that but yeah. How'd you know?"

"Last time I spoke to Jennifer she was talking about a lovely family that moved in a couple of blocks down called Stokes. She met their mother at the store."

"Figures. Jennifer knows everyone." Warrick nodded. His grandma rolled her eyes.

"Get your ass up to the table." She grinned. "I got takeout."

Warrick smiled. It was a first day tradition, Chinese takeout - a family favourite.

"So tell me everything. How was it?"

"Well, I was in school about five seconds when this kid knocks me over. So, I think that I'm being bullied already, but he seems genuinely sorry. Says his name's Nick and that he's lost. We are in the same homeroom, so we go to find it and he bumps into another girl called Sara Sidle. Turns out she's in our homeroom too, so we go find it together, and end up on the same table then a couple of other kids came along."

Warrick's grandma listened in varying levels of amusement as Warrick relayed his day. She was concerned when he told her about the Stetler incident, but roared with laughter when he told her about the dance. When he finally got to Gene Jaycobs, she swore.

"I hoped he'd leave you alone, now." She sighed. "Then what happened."

Warrick told her about Jay coming along on the bus and going to Nick's house. He told her about the lemonade and the American football game they had played in his huge back yard with versus Ethan and Nick's father, Bill, who was terrifying and intimidating in his expensive suit and the nicest man in the world in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Sounds like a good day, then." She summarised.

"Yeah. Now all I'm worried about is tomorrow."

CSIVCSIVCSIV

Nick felt nervously excited about his first proper day at school, but years of being teased by older siblings had given him a half decent poker face. He looked cool, calm.

He raced downstairs as Ethan honked the horn of his car for the third time.

"Nick! I will leave without you! Or I'll call you Pancho at school!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" He shouted angrily, grabbing his jacket and flying out the door with a hasty, "BYE MOM!"

He made his way into his first class - Spanish with a Mr. Caine. He was dismayed to find that he didn't know anyone in the class, and took a seat by the window. As the class slowly filled, a shy voice asked, "Can I sit here?"

He looked up and saw a pretty girl with dark hair and dark eyes which, when mixed with her smooth complexion and light accent told Nick she was probably from somewhere in the Middle East.

"Sure." He smiled. "I'm Nick Stokes. I'm from Austin, Texas."

"I'm Tali Daveed. Spelt d-a-v-i-d. I am from Israel. Originally." She smiled slightly.

"Hi." Nick nodded. "So do you speak...uh, Israeli?"

She laughed, and Nick couldn't help but smile. She had a nice laugh. "I speak Hebrew, Arabic, French and Russian fluently. I am learning Spanish, which is why I am here." She laughed again at Nick's slack jaw. "And my English is okay."

"You...you're English is great..." Nick stammered. "When did you learn...?"

"My father taught me. If you think that's a lot, you should look at my brother and sister. Ari speaks eight languages fluently. Ziva speaks seven, but then again, her English isn't her best. She doesn't use contractions. It's quite funny, really. I love English, Ziva butchers it, and Ari is just...well I don't know about Ari much anymore." She confessed with a frown.

"Is Ari your brother?"

She nodded. "Older. I am the youngest. He is twenty one, and technically my half brother. Ziva is eighteen, a senior. And I am the youngest. I get babied all the time."

Nick laughed. "You think you have it bad? I'm the youngest of seven!" Her eyes popped open.

"I didn't think people in America had such large families. I thought the average was two and a half children!"

"I thought the average number of languages spoken was two and a half." Nick retorted with a smile.

"Touché." She smiled. A tall man with ginger hair and sunglasses walked into the classroom.

"Good morning. I," he took off his sunglasses. "Am your teacher, Mr. Caine." After taking a register of the fairly small class, the teacher continued. "If you would please get your pens out, today we have a test to get a picture of how much you already know. Mr. Stokes, as you seem to be daydreaming out of the window already, you can hand them out."

Nick jumped as the papers landed on his desk and he blushed slightly, handing them out quickly. He could explain that he had been listening, and that he had been distracted by the rare eagle soaring out of the window, but then again he didn't want to look like a dork. He wasn't too worried about not fitting in: you either did or you didn't, but he didn't necessarily want to do anything to hurt the cause.

Nick found the test fairly easy. When he was little, the Stokes' had employed a nanny to help his mother work as a lawyer and raise seven children. Her name was Rosa, and she was a 19 year old legal Mexican immigrant who had struggled to get work. She had taught all the Stokes children Spanish as per request from their parents, including Joanne, who at seventeen was really too old for a nanny, especially one only a year older than her.

She had loved Rosa anyway and they became close friends. Rosa had been with the Stokes clan ever since. She was currently taking a well earned break to visit her family in Mexico, and Nick couldn't wait until she got back with stories and trinkets. Rosa's position had changed over the years, but now Nick went to her with almost everything. Almost. Somethings he would take to his mother or father about, but mainly he went to Rosa. She was thirty five, which was quite young for a nanny who had served for fifteen years, but however much the Stokes' asked her if she had other dreams, she insisted that she would rather just stay with them, and she was one of the family in many aspects.

As he stared at the question, Nick could hear her chiding him in his head.

12) What is the Spanish word for 'babysitter?'

"Come on, Nicholas!" Rosa sang one to a nine year old Nick clutching firmly at her waist. She called him Nicholas when she was trying to be serious, but her accent and playful voice made it sound like a song.

"Don't go!" he begged.

She laughed. "Nicky! I'm only going to Dallas! I will be back in three days!"

He looked up at her with his best puppy dog eyes. She put a hand over his eyes. "You have to stay. I, er...don't feel well!"

She frowned. "Nicholas. Pensé que te gustaba su niñera?" (I thought you liked your babysitter?)

"Not Maria!" Nick insisted.

"Qué?"

Nick's lower lip trembled. He couldn't tell Rosa why he hated Maria. He wanted to, but he was too afraid.

"Maybe she will play a game with you or something." Rosa tried to comfort the boy, who promptly let go to violently throw up in a nearby bush. "Nicky! Ms. Stokes! Ms. Stokes!"

As Nick's mother came running, Rosa gathered Nick into a hug and softly stroked his hair. "Ella es sola una niñera."

"She is only a babysitter."

With a light shudder, Nick wrote 'niñera' down under question twelve. When the test ended, he swapped with Tali, and they began to mark each other's work.

"Twenty out of twenty." Tali said in her soft, appealing voice, handing Nick his sheet with a smile. "Well done."

"Thanks." He finished tallying up her score. "Seventeen. Not bad for some who speaks a billion languages."

She laughed. "Five and a half."

Nick smiled at her. Spanish was most defiantly going to be a class he enjoyed.

(PS, Ziva from NCIS really did have a younger sister called Tali that she described as being 'the best' of her siblings, so Tali David is not entirely OC ;)!)