DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE CSI FRANCHISE OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. OBVIOUSLY.

A/N: THIS IS A PAST CHAPTER


Sunshine and Linus

"Days go by
I can feel 'em flying
Like a hand out the window in the wind as the cars go by
It's all we've been given
So you better start livin' right now
'Cause days go by."
-Days Go By, Keith Urban


As Catherine Willows used her hip to push her way into the public restroom on the main floor of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, she took a sip of coffee from the white porcelain mug in her left hand and grimaced. The brew was foul. It was the only -and not so accurate- way to describe it. And even that was being kind. Although it was piping hot and the rich, flavourful aroma had permeated her senses the moment she'd walked into the break room to discover the newly prepared pot, one sip had left her horrifically disappointed and fearful of swallowing. The midnight black liquid was bitter and nothing short of gag inducing, and she quickly made her way to the row of sinks along the far wall where she proceeded to spit the contents of her mouth out noisily, then dump the coffee down the drain. Throwing on the cold water, she used it to both rinse the grotesque brew off of the porcelain and to cleanse her mouth of the putrid taste.

"That is the last time any of the lab techs are allowed anywhere near the coffee maker," she muttered, as she filled her mug with water and taking a sip, used it to swirl around her mouth before gargling noisily and leaning down to spit it out into the sink.

The sound of giggling from one of the stalls behind her captured Catherine's attention. It was a childish, light and airy noise that could be either immensely uplifting and charming, or incredibly annoying under certain given circumstances, and turning off the tap, she glanced through the mirror in front of her. Catching sight of the only other occupant in the bathroom. Or at least their feet. Visible from underneath the stall door, clad in a pair of lime green ballet flats that were small enough to belong to an average sized twelve year old. A shimmering white and rose gold anklet adoring the left leg.

"This tattoo that I want is so fab-fucking-tabulous.." a voice from inside the stall said. "It is out of this freaking world. It's a peacock. This huge ass, beautiful and bold peacock that takes up my entire side. So the tail would end up spreading across my entire back and the head would be between my boobs…"

Catherine smirked, and giving a shake of her head, sipped slowly at her water. Stalling the best she could in order to get a good look at whoever was behind door number three whenever they decided to emerge. By the size of those feet, the adorable shoes, the girlish giggle and the bubbly, exuberant voice, whoever it was couldn't have been older than late teens. Even early twenties was pushing it. And considering the abysmal signal for cell phones one encountered when inside of the washroom, they were obviously talking to themselves. And as she turned and leaned back against the sink and waited, she ran through the days cases in her mind, trying to conjure up an ID of one of the many nutters Brass and the other detectives had dragged through the door during their shift.

"…it is the coolest tat I have ever seen in my life," the young woman continued. "I know I already have a few, but this one…this one would be the piece de resistance….wait a second…"

There was the sound of clothes rustling, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone urinating.

"Sorry…" that giggle filled the bathroom once again. "…I tinkled on you!"

Catherine rolled her eyes, and tapping the nails of one hand against the sink, she brought her mug to her lips and sipped at her water, biding her time as she listened to the toilet paper being unravelled and torn apart, then clothes being straightened and tidied and the toilet flushing.

"What manners?….Oh, who needs to be a lady?…if you can't listen to your best friend take a leak but you can brush your teeth while your fiance is doing his morning dump…"

Choking on a mouthful of water, Catherine coughed and sputtered noisily and forced herself to swallow.

"I'm just saying…I'm losing you here…hello?…Linds?…hello?…oh for shit sakes…"

There was a loud rattling noise as the bolt was pushed across, and as it swung open, Catherine blinked in surprise at the sight of the young woman that stepped out into the bathroom. Not only because she was expecting someone much younger due to the giggling and the rather childlike behaviour, but because she recognized the young woman before her. The name escaped her, but the face was undoubtedly familiar. Although the last time Catherine had seen her, in a taped power point presentation that Grissom had shown her after attending the forensics conference in Minnesota. A tiny, conservative brunette in a relatively boring black pin strip suit with a crisp white blouse underneath, her hair in a tight bun and dark framed glasses on her face.

He'd gone on and on and damn near waxed poetic about the poise and professionalism of the young CSI that had gotten up in front of a room of nearly three hundred people and had given a rather remarkable presentation on analyzing gunshot residue patterns and their usefulness in cases where evidence is scarce. He'd tried desperately to secure her for his own lab when word had gotten around that she was looking to bail from the Phoenix PD, and had gone as far as offering to pay for her plane ticket -out of his own pocket- to come to Vegas for an interview. Only to find out that her heart, for personal reasons, was set on New York City.

This young woman before her now….this was not the same CSI that had appeared on that recording. With her fresh faced appearance and her body clad in a brightly coloured, figure flattering sundress accessorised with the stylish shoes and a purse, it looked as if she'd just stepped out of an ad for Abercrombie and Fitch. Barely old enough to drink or gamble let alone be giving presentations at a forensic conference.

"Lost my signal," the petite brunette explained, a frown on her face as she held up her metallic pink cell phone. "And that was a long distance call too!"

Catherine was slightly relieved to know that she hadn't been listening to someone mentally unhinged carrying on a conversation with themselves. But was not impressed at the immaturity that she'd just witnessed. Totally unbecoming of someone she knew had to be in their early to mid thirties.

"Oh well…" the young woman sighed. "Shit happens, right? I'll have to call her back when I get back to the hotel."

"The cell signal has always been bad in here," Catherine said. "I'm surprised you even managed to get through to someone."

"Guess it's the horse shoe up my butt!" the brunette chirped, then made her way to the sink where she washed her hands. "You're Catherine, right?" she asked curiously, as she turned off the water taps and yanked a paper towel from the holder mounted above the soap dispenser. "Catherine Willows?"

The older woman's eyebrow shot up.

"Nick and Warrick showed me some pictures on their phones of everyone here when we met at a conference a few years back. I'm Samantha Ross," she offered a dainty hand. "I'm…"

"I know who you are," Catherine told her, shaking the younger woman's hand politely. "CSI from the New York Crime Lab. Via Phoenix. Grissom showed me a recording of a PowerPoint presentation you did."

"That was just a fluke. I wasn't even supposed to present. I suck at things like that. But my boss had to fly home unexpectedly for personal reasons and had asked me to do it."

"But it was your paper and your work he was presenting," Catherine pointed out.

Sam leaned back against the ledge of the sink and dried her hands. "A lot of people get forensic papers published. You don't need to be a rocket scientist for that to happen. And I'm not the public speaking type. I just did the work for the lab and after that it was up to them to do what they wanted with it. That's all."

"Doesn't mean your work isn't of value."

Sam shrugged. "It was really no big deal. To be honest? I'd rather be in the lab than talking in front of shit loads of people. That's just not me. I'm not cut out for that type of thing. At all. Now Bug Man…"

"Bug man?" Catherine's eyebrow shot up once more.

"Grissom. I called him Bug Man and he called me GSR Girl. He was great. I loved his presentation on insects being able to predict the approximate time of death according to the level of a bodies decomposition and the digestion of fatty acids in the insects' systems."

"I didn't think anyone besides Grissom was interested in stuff like that," Catherine said.

"It was fascinating. I mean, all of this million dollar technology and flies can call TOD better? How cool is that? Never mind paying the medical examiners to do it. Let's just bring in a shit load of bugs and let them do the work."

"Are you really some illegitimate child of Gill's?" Catherine inquired.

"My brother has been huge into bugs since he was little," Sam laughed. "That might be something you should ask him. Come to think of it…we've always looked remarkably different and I've always questioned our parentage. So that may explain where he actually originated from."

The older woman cracked a smile.

"I'm just a laugh a minute," Sam told her. "It's okay to loosen up a bit."

"I'm sorry…I just…when I heard you on the phone and then saw who you were when you came out of the stall…well I guess remembering you from what Grissom showed me and seeing you like this…"

"I know…I'm a study in contradiction. One minute I'm all serious and intense professional and then the next…well, next is exactly what you see before you."

"Little girl lost," Catherine commented.

Sam's eyes widened. "Warrick used to call me that," she said.

"He mentioned you a couple of times," Catherine told her. "After he came back from the conference. I think he was worried about you. I heard him talking about you to Nick and he sounded concerned. He used those words."

"He always said that it fit me perfectly. That it seemed as if I was this little kid stuck in a woman's body. Searching for a safe place to go or someone to take care of me. And he always said that…" biting her bottom lip, she shook her head. "It's not important what he said after that."

"That he'd be that safe place if you wanted him to be," Catherine finished.

"I always told myself that I wouldn't ever rely on a man to do that for me," Sam admitted, her face and voice solemn. "That no man could ever become my be all and end all. Probably because I could never trust any guy other than my brother. So it was…it was hard to take him up on that. And when the time came…" she raked her hand through her hair. "…when the time came when I realized I did need that, someone else became my safe place."

"Too bad Warrick never found his own safe place," Catherine mused.

Sam nodded in agreement. "I should get going," she said, giving a shaky smile. Unsettled by the other woman's heavy gaze and the accusatory tone in her voice. "It was nice to meet you," she shook Catherine's hand once more, then made for the door. "My friend is waiting for me at the reception desk and I wanted to see Nick before we headed back to our hotel and…"

"You know, it's sad to think about what might have been," Catherine commented. "I mean, if you'd taken Warrick up on what he'd said…"

"What happened to Warrick was horrible and he didn't deserve that," Sam said, as her fingers curled around the door handle. "But I couldn't have stopped it. No one could have. Our lives went in two completely different directions. And I…I made the right choice with my life. My direction turned out to be the perfect one for me."

"Well I guess that's all that matters in the end," Catherine concluded.

"We all can't be martyrs," Sam retorted, then without glancing back, yanked the door open and stepped out into the hallway.


Jess taped her foot impatiently on the tiled floor beneath her and cast a glance down at her watch. It had been nearly twenty minutes since Sam's friend Nick had been paged to the reception desk and since Sam herself had disappeared to the washroom. And neither person had yet to materialise before her.

Instead, as she leaned against the reception desk and listened to the heel of her sandal slap against the floor as the nails on her left hand drummed out a rhythm against her hip, she found herself the magnet of curiosity. Every uniform or plainclothes that walked past her couldn't seem to do so without a double take. And lab rats, in their wrinkled white coats and their noses buried in their reports, practically gave themselves whiplash checking her out. To them she was nothing more than an unfamiliar face. An attractive woman in strapless white sundress that showed off her curves and her dark locks tumbling over her shoulders and her skin bearing a slight tan. Little did they know, underneath lurked a girl that could easily hand them their ass. Twice over.

Five more minutes, Jess thought, as she looked in the direction of the public washroom and saw no sign of her friend. Five more minutes and if she's not out here…well I'm leaving her sorry ass and she can find her own way back to the hotel.

"Mister Sanders," the nasally voiced secretary broke into Jess' thoughts, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the woman lift herself slightly out of her chair and lean across the desk, a stack of small pink paper slips in her hand. "Apparently you don't know how to work a cell phone. Several people called for you. Several irate people."

"Well, they'll all just have to get in line behind the several hundred of pissed off and less than satisfied customers, won't they," came the response, prompting Angell to cast a sidelong grin at the young man that sidled up beside her, his hand outstretched for the messages. Tall and lanky, he wore his thick brown hair short to his head and had a pair of soulful dark eyes framed by long lashes and a slightly crooked nose to go with the somewhat crooked smile he flashed in her direction. He was attractive. In a geeky, Adam Ross sort of way. And Jess didn't do Adam Ross.

Literally and figuratively.

"No rest for the weary," he addressed Jess, holding the stack of slips up.

"I know that feeling," she said, and looking down at her watch once again, issued a heavy sigh and shook her head in disdain. Her eyes suddenly narrowing as she felt the young man's gaze travelling the length of her body. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I don't know…can you?"

Jess snorted. "Do me a favour and keep on walking kid," she suggested.

"I'm Greg," he offered his hand. "Greg Sanders. And you would be?"

"Not interested," she responded.

"Oh give it a rest Gregory," Jess heard Sam's voice from behind her. "We all know she is way out of your league."

"Now there's a sight for sore eyes!" a broad grin spread across Greg's face as he turned and regarded the tiny brunette sashaying towards them. "Is my sight deceiving me or is the elusive Sam Ross aka Pee-Wee aka Short Stuff actually here in the Vegas crime lab?"

"In the flesh!" she cried, and accepted a warm, tight hug. "How are you doing Linus?"

Jess arched an eyebrow. "Linus?"

"It's a long story," Sam explained, as Greg kissed her cheek and let his arm settle loosely around her waist as they both turned to face Angell. "And to turn it into a short one, our last night at the conference, we all hung out in Nick and Warrick's room and got totally wasted. And Greg here…well he passed out cold on the bathroom floor so we covered him with a blanket and kept on partying. An hour later, he came wandering out of the bathroom and stumbled for the door, the blanket under his arm and trailing behind him as he went."

"Hence the name Linus," Greg concluded the story.

"Charming," Jess said and gave him a sugary sweet, albeit phony smile.

"So?" Greg looked down at the brunette alongside of him. "What are you doing here? I don't lay eyes on you for two years and suddenly you're showing up out of the blue at the crime lab? What's that about?"

"Well…my dear friend here is getting married tomorrow and I happen to be the one standing up for the blushing bride," Sam explained. "Greg, this is Jessica Angell. Jess this is…"

"Linus," she concluded and shook the hand the young man offered in her direction.

"Jess is a detective back in New York," Sam added.

"Really?" Greg gave an impressed nod. "What's your speciality? Loss prevention?"

Jess smirked. "Homicide, actually. With a penchant for vice and drugs."

"A tough girl," he said as he eyed her from head to toe. "I like…"

"Greg, you wouldn't last two rounds with her," Sam told him. "In fact, you'd…" her eyes widened and her words trailed off as she felt a pair of strong arms circle her waist. And she gave a small shriek of surprise as she was lifted clear off her feet.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" Nick exclaimed, as he squeezed her affectionately before setting her back down on the floor. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him and pecked each of her cheeks.

"Kicking and screaming," Sam laughed. "How are you? Long time no see!"

"Too long!" he agreed. "Emails only do so much, you know. What are you doing here, sunshine?"

"You people sure have a thing for nicknames," Jess commented. Then frowned as her cell phone vibrated against her hip. Removing it from its carry case, she groaned inwardly as she checked the caller ID. "It's the manager of the chapel," she told Sam. "Lovely…hope this isn't the beginning of the most disastrous wedding ever."

"You're paranoid," Sam declared.

"With good reason. Remember the day my brother Jamie got married? Remember everything that went wrong? First all of the bouquets were made wrong, then my future sister in law's nearly had a stroke when her zipper completely tore away from one side of the dress and we had to improvise and used two sided tape to fix it."

"And then the priest had a heart attack half an hour before," Sam told Nick and Greg. "It was a total disaster."

"And disasters seem to run in my family," Jess added.

"If it's any consolation, it's suppose to rain tomorrow," Greg told her. "And rain on your wedding day apparently means you're going to be rich one day."

"Only thing rain on my wedding day will mean is that I'll look like a drowned rat," she retorted. "I'm going to return this call. You'll be okay alone, Sam?"

"Oh I think you can rest assured that these two handsome men won't be taking advantage of me any time soon," she laughed. "Go ahead."

"Jessica Angell," she introduced quickly to Nick.

"Nick Stokes," he said in return, then watched with a grin on her face as she hurried off towards the front entrance.

"No name has ever suited someone more," Greg remarked, as he watched the departing woman, his eyes riveted on the way her hips and ass moved in her dress. "Detective McHottie or what."

"Hey!" Nick slapped his colleague's shoulder in order to capture his attention. "I've got some evidence waiting to be processed in trace. Think you could do me a favour and get on it right away?"

"And what do I look like? Lab rat boy?" Greg asked.

"From whence you came. It's either that stack of messages in your hand or helping to catch a killer. What'll it be?"

"No need to say more," Greg said, and embracing Sam once again, pecked her cheek. "Swing by and say adios before you leave," he said.

"I will," she promised.

"I'll be down the hall!' Greg called over his shoulder as he departed. "Returning phone calls."


Nick snorted and shook his head, then grinned down at Sam. "Love that guy to death, but I swear to God, some days? Some days I could just throttle him."

"I seriously think that Adam and Greg are the real siblings," Sam laughed. "Maybe I'm really the Sanders and he's really the Ross. I mean, do I honestly look like or act like my brother?"

"Do I have to answer that?" Nick asked, then chuckled as she pouted dramatically and slugged him in the shoulder. "So what are you doing here, Sunshine? You're definitely the last person I expected to come wandering in here out of the blue. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you."

"Jess is getting married tomorrow. So here I am. Sin City, baby. My boyfriend and I are standing up for her and her fiance."

A slow grin spread across Nick's face. "Boyfriend, huh?"

She smiled brightly and nodded. "A homicide detective," she said. "I met him through working at the lab."

"Same homicide detective that you whined and moaned to me about a few times? The one you were certain had no clue that you even existed?"

"One and only. What can I say? He finally got his head out of his butt."

"Took him long enough," Nick gave her a once over. "You look happy, Sunshine."

"You know what? I am happy. Happier than I've ever been. I never thought I'd feel this way about anyone. After Zack I'd all but sworn off ever being a relationship again."

"I'm just glad that you got away from that guy. It was a huge relief to get that email from you saying you were safe and well in New York City. You know how many times we wanted to come to Arizona and bust that guy up? How many times on the way home from that conference Warrick and I…" his voice trailed off, the mere mention of his deceased best friend's name stirring memories and emotions.

"Hey…" Sam's eyes and voice softened as she reached out to rub his upper arm. "It's okay, you know. To miss him."

"Didn't think it would still bother me this much to talk about him nearly two years later," Nick sighed.

"He was your best friend. And the way that it happened…it's okay to still hurt."

He nodded and cleared his throat noisily. "Yeah…Warrick and I always did have these knight in shining armour complexes," he said, quickly brightening his mood once again. "Guy wanted nothing more than to show up in Phoenix and break Zack's arms and legs."

"He would have had to take a number and get in line," Sam said. "I think my brother already had his bags packed so he could show up on Zack's doorstep and, as Adam told me, 'Go medieval on his ass'."

Nick laughed. "So you want to go and grab a coffee or something?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. "That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard," she declared.

"Tea…my bad. You want to go and grab one? We can catch up a little on old times? You can fill me in on life in the Big Apple? Your friend might be a while getting all that wedding stuff in order. I'm sure we've got some time before she gets back."

"I don't know…." Sam cast a glance towards the front entrance, where Jess was pacing frantically just beyond the glass doors. "She might need…"

"SAM!" Jess bellowed down the long corridor, as she yanked open the front door and stuck her head inside. "There's issues! I'll be back to pick you up in an hour!"

"Do you need me to…" the final words never had a chance to escape Sam's mouth, as the door swung shut and her best friend turned abruptly on her heel and rushed down the front walk. "She's usually not this…intense," she said, as she turned back to Nick. "…well I mean, at work and out in the field and in interrogation she is. Hell, at work she's downright scary some times. But this…she's going all Bridezilla on me."

"Just another reason to stay single forever," Nick mused. "So you can spare yourself the agony of ever dealing with someone like that."

Sam quirked an eyebrow.

"By the word you, I meant me," he explained.

"Oh come on, Nick…don't be giving up on happily ever after. I mean if I can find a prince out of a hell of a lot of frogs wandering around New York City, you can meet Mrs. Right wandering down the Vegas Strip."

Nick frowned.

"Okay…well maybe not there. Unless the future Mrs. Stokes is a lady of the night. But you've always been the eternal optimist. Always."

"Yeah…well you can thank Undersheriff McKeen for ripping the last shred of optimism out of my life. And don't tell me you're planning on taking advantage of the fifty percent off coupon for the Little White Chapel that comes with every buffet dinner at The Excalibur."

"The Bellagio thank you. And no coupons. Well, unless you count the ones for a measly ten percent off a pedicure. But no. No Little White Chapel for me. It's not my scene."

"Marriage isn't your scene or getting married in Vegas isn't your scene?"

Sam smiled, and looping her arm around his bicep, rested her head against his shoulder. "I have seen my future, Nicky."

"And?" he asked curiously, as he led her in the direction of the staff break room.

"And it involves a tall and devastatingly handsome man with incredible blue eyes and the most incredible…" she sighed dreamily. "Smile," she finished.

"That is not what you were going to say," Nick chuckled.

"I'll keep the dirty thoughts to myself," she giggled. "But I will tell you this. My distant future involves my totally hot, totally sexy homicide detective. My very near future however…"

He looked down at her, eyebrow arched in anticipation.

"…involves tea and something chocolate," she finished, and gave him a wink.

Nick grinned, and leaned down, pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of her head.

"I'm on it," he said.


Okay, so I went with a shorter chapter to get back into the swing of things. I've been a little rusty lately and haven't really had the desire to post. I think my muse is on summer vacation and I've had to rely on a backup. I'm also busy writing something (non NY) for another site. So I hope this little chapter was okay and I look forward to hearing from everyone!

Huge thanks and appreciation going out to all of those R and R'ing and even all the lurkers!

Special thanks to:

Afrozenheart412

CSINYMinute

Hope4sall

ParaCaerOuVoar

Madison Bellows

Delko's Girl 88

Ms. Lori Reznor

wolfeylady

xSamiliciousx

Monoxide lullaby

Forest Angel

New-York-Babeee

Soccer-bitch