For the millionth time…I do not own CSI!

Rated T for language and sexual innuendos.

* Short Warrick Only Chapter *

Just some of Warrick's thoughts and reasoning. his rationale and his ideas that are running through his head before he finally succumbs to sleep.

Hmmmm, I wonder what his dreams would be about that night. I bet I can guess!

Did you notice I wrote a couple chapters? It's because some of you took some time to send me some words of encouragement.

I read those reviews and I write faster and more fluently.

Don't know why that is but it is…so take a minute and review if you want a better story. It's in your hands!

Now, without further ado, go ahead and take a spin inside Warrick's brain and listen to his thoughts. Enjoy!

It wasn't until he pulled into his driveway that Warrick realized he had driven all the way home without music playing. Warrick always listened to music. But today it just never dawned him to reach over and turn the radio on. He was just so shocked by everything that transpired that he drove in silence thinking about nothing else but what happened last night. He was shocked about so many things. Baby Girl lied to him. He was punched in the face by Nick. He fucked Trista and it turned out to be the best sex he ever had. And, he was actually shocked that she ditched him; he asked her to stay and she blew out of there like the house was on fire. She did to HIM what he usually does to the Honeys he shows a good time. All of it was mind blowing.

Warrick unlocked his front door and went inside feeling exhausted. As he took off his shoes and put them in the closet, he stared over at the couch. The cushions were in disarray, the throw pillows on the floor, and even the coffee table was slanted away from the couch. He looked over at the chair in the corner of the room and noticed Trista's jacket. He smiled when he saw it. "Typical, you and my sister, man…you leave shit everywhere," he thought to himself. Warrick yawned as he walked into his kitchen and he sighed with annoyance when his feet stuck to the floor.

"Fuckin' Lemonade," he grumbled.

As he sprayed the floor with cleaner and began wiping it up, he couldn't help but replay what exactly happened in this kitchen and how the lemonade got on the floor to begin with.

"I fucked Trista? No. Seriously? Me and Trista? Trisssssttaaa?" he kept saying in a shocked tone over and over.

Warrick may have been shocked but he was also very intrigued. He didn't want to be, but she invaded his thoughts. The sex he had with her was hot and intense. They were heated and they both went with it. When their lips touched each other there was no going back; they were lightening in a bottle.

"That girl is on fire…that girl can move…that girl is smoking…Oh my God, that girl is Trista…fuckin' TRISTA!" he couldn't get past the shock. He was also getting a hard-on just from thinking about having sex with her and how much they got off on each other.

Warrick finished wiping up the puddle of lemonade and he shook the thoughts of his sex romp out of his head. Warrick threw the wet paper towels into the trash and walked upstairs to go to bed. He had a rough night and he needed to sleep. Heading into the bathroom first he smirked at the water on the floor. He knew why it was there.

"Dayuuummmm, that girl is mad crazy," he shook his head and looked in the mirror.

He winced when he saw the swollen mark on his cheek.

"Fucker gave me a good shot," he admitted silently to himself.

Warrick finished up in the bathroom and crawled into bed. He stared at the ceiling and thought about what he said to Nick to make him so angry that he knocked him a shot that took him down to the ground. He was wrong for bringing Emma into it. Dead wrong. And he knew it. His mind came to understand why his sister lied to him. He realized it wasn't like she and Nick were secretly dating and she was sneaking around with him. She was meeting with her husband…her husband… because she wasn't ready to take him back home yet. She wasn't ready for that step and she wasn't ready to upset him or her friends. She would feel like a fool if she was wrong. She wouldn't want to disregard his or her friends' feelings about what went on. He knew his sister would never in a million years lie to him if it wasn't something she thought would be for the best. They had that kind of relationship. They always had.

Warrick began to think about Nick and the blonde bombshell he was hooking up with. His blood began to boil thinking about him messing around on his sister. He began to remember when he fought with Nick over Jules years earlier. He remembered how hard those two fought to be together. He remembered how Nick sat at Jules' bedside for over a month…never leaving her…always touching her…talking to her…even though Jules wasn't even conscious or aware of it. He knew how Nick cried when she was in that coma. He never let on to Nick that he knew, usually, if he came into the room and saw Nick crying and begging Jules to wake up, he would back up out of the room to give him time to compose himself. He remembered the pain of nearly losing his sister and how he and Nick felt that pain together.

Warrick turned over and stared at the wall. He thought about what Nick said. About how he "remembers nothing" about it. Nick swore up and down that he knows absolutely nothing about it. He never said he didn't do it or that he made a mistake. He said he didn't remember. He could have said anything but he stuck to the story that he can't remember any of it. That made Warrick think that maybe there was some foul play involved. He wasn't sure if he was buying any of it, but it would be worth a shot to look into it. After all, he owes Nick that much, if for nothing else than for dragging Emma's name into the fight.

He made a mental note to run Brooke Latham's name through the system when he went into work later. He knew Nick said she was a Southern Belle brought up by rigid parents and she would never be in the system but he decided he would just give it a try anyway. Stranger things have happened and Nick just wasn't thinking clearly enough tto realize that. So, he would have to do it for him.

Warrick didn't realize that those were his last thoughts before his eyes drooped and his breathing became shallow as he sailed off into his dreams.