Chapter Three: Coincidence

"Grissom!" Nick shouted, running after his supervisor down the hall. "Do you know if Brass is back yet?" Grissom shook his head. "Do you know a Detective Burrow?"

"What's with the fifty questions Nicky?"

"That was two questions." Nick frowned at him.

Grissom nodded as he realised that but he meant it to be sarcastic. "No I don't. Who is he?"

"He might have been the guy who stole my evidence."

"You lost your evidence?" Grissom barked at him. "Nicky, how could you lose..."

"In the lock up. My twin victims were killed by a gun that was supposed to be in the lock up, but I went to check and the evidence has been missin' for years. The last person to check the evidence out was this Detective Burrow nine years ago."

"You think he stole the evidence? Word of advice Nicky, if someone's gonna steal something, they don't usually leave their name to let you know they did it." Grissom remarked at him as if he was stupid. "Now if you don't mind, I've got recruits to meet." Grissom continued on his path towards the elevator, leaving Nick stood alone in the hallway.

Nick huffed loudly, he was sick of being treated like the rookie still. His theory wasn't stupid. He was following every lead just like his supervisor taught him to. He decided to go to LA without his supervisor's permission anyway to follow up on his lead, regardless of what Grissom said.

Sandra carefully lowered the breakfast tray with a bowl of porridge to the young man's lap. He took the spoon in his hands, taking a single mouthful of the warm porridge then beamed a smile up at her. "Thank you Sandy." He spoke softly.

"You're welcome." She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him eating then looked round as her father entered the room.

"How's he doing?" Doctor Nelson asked.

"Much better." The young man nodded. "Thank you for taking me in and looking after me."

"You're welcome. Sandy, can I speak to you a moment?" Her father requested. Sandra nodded, climbing to her feet and following her father out into the hallway. "Honey I need you to get me some things from town." He handed over a hand written shopping list. "As quick as you can."

"Dad, who is that man?"

"I don't know honey." He clearly lied again. Sandra could easily tell when he lied to her because his facial expression was so obvious. "Make sure you get everything on that list." Sandra nodded, scanning her eyes down the list as she made her way off down the stairs towards her father's car outside. She stopped at the car as she saw blood on the back seat.

Sandra pulled the back door open to inspect the blood further. The last person to take the car out was her father, so he must have picked up the strange young man and put him on the back seat. Before Sandra head out to get her father's shopping from the list she decided to clean the blood from the back seat.

After all this was her mother's car and she didn't want it to be tarnished with this stranger's blood.

Grissom walked through the front doors of the station, looking at the young man stood behind the desk, smiling at him. "Can I help you sir?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm looking for..." Grissom checked the name from his file. "An Officer Greg Sanders." Grissom said then showed him his CSI ID.

"One moment please." The officer grabbed his phone, punching in a number. "Hello Greg, there's a CSI Grissom here to see you." He put the phone down then smiled at Grissom. "He'll be here in a minute. He's not in trouble is he?"

"No, no." Grissom shook his head.

"There he is." The officer pointed to a young man down the hall with headphones on, shaking his booty to the music he was listening to as he made his way down the hall towards them.

"That's Greg Sanders?" Grissom asked shocked.

"Yep, guys a genius." The officer winked at him with a smug grin plastered across his face.

"You rang?" Greg asked the man behind the desk as he pulled the headphones from his ears. The officer pointed to a stunned Grissom, stood in the middle of the room. "Hi, I'm Greg Sanders." He politely introduced himself, extending his left hand.

"Uh huh." Grissom absently nodded, returning the hand shake. "I'm..." Grissom had to look down at his badge to read his name. "Gilbert Grissom . . . I work with the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"Oh." Greg cheered excitedly. "Is this about my application?"

"Possibly." Grissom nodded slightly as he looked at the young man's pulsating hairstyle and the Marilyn Manson t-shirt clearly showing beneath his police uniform. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"Sure, there's a spare office back here." Greg grabbed a doughnut off the front desk, leading the way as he licked the hundreds and thousands off coated in icing sugar, getting it all round his mouth.

He'd certainly liven up the lab. Grissom thought to himself. But Ecklie would never allow him to hire someone so colourful.

"So what music are you listening to there?" Grissom asked curiously as he could hear the muffled beats of the song.

"This. It's the Prodigy. Wonna listen?"

Before Grissom could refuse, Greg had already put one of the buds in Grissom's ear so he could hear the loud techno music chiming from the headphone.

"Hey." Sara shouted, running after Nick through the parking complex. "Where are you going?"

"Headin' off to LA."

"Grissom gave you permission?" She asked surprised. Nick slightly nodded then shook his head, deciding not to lie to Sara. "Okay." She chuckled. "I'll cover for you . . . oh and I checked out that Officer Sander's profile..."

"Sara! I told you not to." He shrieked at her with embarrassment.

"What? He's cute; I see why you like him."

"I don't like him, stay out of my business." He hissed at her, heading for his truck as the blush started to creep up his neck, filing his cheeks.

"I was just saying. If you ever need anyone to talk to. I'm your girl."

"Whatever." He muttered, fiddling with his keys.

"No I'm serious Nicky. I'm here for you." She smiled at him.

He looked up into her eyes then half smiled. "Thank you." He said softly, climbing into his truck. "You won't tell Warrick though will yah?"

"No, but he'll find out soon enough."

"Why?" Nick asked confused.

"Coz Grissom is going over the new recruits files today and Officer Sanders is on that list."

"Seriously?" Nick asked surprised, trying to hold back a smile.

"Yep, so you never know. We could be working with him in the near future." She winked at him. "Have fun in LA." She shouted after him as she head back towards the lab. Nick nodded, starting up his truck, allowing the smile to spread across his face at the thought of Officer Sanders joining their team.

"Now this one, I love the music video to this one. It's called Beautiful People." Greg told him, skipping forwards to the track. "It's by Marilyn Manson."

"You know a lot about your music."

"Yeah." Greg smiled widely. "I coulda been a rock star."

Grissom couldn't help but laugh as the young man strummed an air guitar to the beat of the music. "There's still time Sanders."

"No way, I prefer science." Greg grinned widely, taking a seat on the table. "I love music and dancing, but nothing gets the blood pumping faster than science. Solving murders with the aid of science is even more fun but I was turned down. Not because I'm a nutter or anything like that, but because my parents don't want me to get hurt. See there was this little mishap a few years..."

"Sorry for interrupting you Mr Sanders..."

"Greg, you can call me Greg." He interrupted him back.

"Right Greg, but I came here to talk to you about joining the CSI team."

"I know, but when I'm nervous I just talk and talk and talk..."

"Really? I did not notice that." Grissom remarked sarcastically.

"I'll try my best to shut up. It's just one of those annoying nervous habits I can't shake. I'm even more terrible in deadly silences. I just have to fill the quiet with talking. Seriously I can talk and talk and talk for hours and no one will ever shut me up, which usually makes it worse, before I know it I'm just rambling about random stuff and getting on peoples nerves. Like right now." He gulped. "But go ahead, ask me anything. You can even call the Crime Lab in Los Angeles; they'll tell you I was one of the best. The little mishap wasn't my fault. It was someone else but they're completely forgiven, by me anyway. My mother hates her. Anyway, you can call the LA Crime Lab for references."

"Why did you leave Los Angeles then?"

"My dad works as a homicide detective there. He wouldn't let me work in the field; he just wanted me to stay in the lab where I worked as a DNA specialist. He wouldn't let me go into the field, even after I took the test. He said it was too dangerous out there, even though I was involved in a lab explosion, an explosion that I didn't cause by the way. That's the little mishap, no one died if that's what you're thinking. It was caused by Beth Brillows, one of the grave yard shifts CSI's. I got in the middle of the blast and my parents completely freaked out. I've got tons of scars on my back, but they won't let me go out into the field still. My Supervisor Bill Bryson gave me full recommendations to go into the field though, but it was past off by my father. Instead I got a job as an officer, but over there I only ever got desk jobs because of him, but out here I can do whatever I want."

"Um hum." Grissom nodded, still looking at Greg's crazy hairstyle. "Well from your record you already past your CSI field test, so you should be a perfect candidate."

"Really?" Greg excitedly giggled like a bubbly toddler.

I'm gonna regret this. "Yes, I'll take you on a trial run with the rest of my team; see how you work with them before I consider you though."

"Absolutely, I understand." Greg nodded, trying to contain his excitement. "Do you want a cup of coffee?"

Grissom tried to make up an excuse as he looked at his watch. "Er... I really should be..."

"C'mon, everyone has time for a cup of coffee." Greg dragged Grissom off towards the breakroom, pouring him out a cup of coffee. Grissom smiled up at Greg, taking the coffee cup from his hands. He looked down at the glorious brown liquid, smelling its sweet soft scents before he took a sip.

"Mmmm . . . what is that stuff?"

"Blue Hawaiian Coffee, the only stuff I drink and it's the best."

I could just hire him on his coffee choice alone? The rest of the team would welcome him. Grissom chuckled to himself.

"What?" Greg asked curiously.

"Nothing, just my team are always complaining about the coffee we have in our lab . . . this is the best coffee I've ever tasted." Grissom smiled, taking another sip of the precious liquid. "I'll call you for your trail run Greg. I have high hopes for you."

"Thank you." Greg giddily jumped up and down in his excitement. "I won't let you down sir."

"Call me Grissom, Greg. Can I take this with me?" He asked pointing to the coffee in his hands.

"Sure, help yourself."

"Thank you Greg, it was very nice to meet you." He smiled, shaking the young man's hand again.

"Ditto." Greg grinned widely.

In theory he'd be the perfect candidate, besides his over talking. Everyone has annoying quirks though right? Grissom thought to himself as he exited the station.

But this is definitely the best cup of coffee I have ever had!

Sandra set down the bag of items her father requested on the table outside his lab. She softly knocked on the laboratory doors, listening as some footsteps made their way over to the doors. She involuntary jumped as the doors flew open, seeing her father stood in the doorway in his long flowing lab coat once again.

"Dad, I got you everything you wanted." She pointed over to the bag.

"Thank you." He went to close the doors again, but Sandra stopped him.

"Dad, who is that man? He doesn't know who he is, where did you find him?" She started her line of questioning.

"It's not important honey. I really must get back to work." Doctor Nelson pulled the doors shut again, leaving Sandra completely clueless once again.

She walked off back to the house, heading back upstairs to check on the young man. As she approached the doorway to her father's bedroom she heard voices from behind the door. Sandra slowly pushed the door open; watching the young man thrashing at the sheet's around him as he was trapped in a bad dream.

"Wake up. Wake up." Sandra softly whispered, shaking him gently. His vibrant green eyes suddenly snapped open to look up at her. "Are you okay? You were shouting?"

"I'm fine." He mumbled, wincing as he painfully tried to sit up. "I was dreaming."

"What about?" Sandra asked curiously, sitting on the edge of the bed. As much as she didn't like this strange man in her house it was nice to have someone to talk to for once.

"I saw a man; he was calling out to me."

"What was he saying?"

The young man looked up to meet her gaze. "Kill . . . he said kill over and over again."

"Kill who?" Sandra gulped nervously.

"I don't know. I heard some gunshots." He looked around the room nervously then back into Sandra's eyes. "I was in someone's house."

"Was this the man that was telling you to kill?" Sandra asked.

"No." He shook his head. "This was someone else."

"Do you think it's a memory? From books I've read they say victims of traumatic events only remember things in pieces. You might not have complete amnesia which is where you can't remember anything at all. You might have selective amnesia it could even be some kind of post traumatic stress disorder."

He looked up at her surprised. "You read all that in a book?"

"And from watching the Bourne Identity." She smirked.

"Oh I love that film." He smiled up at her.

"See you remember that, but you don't remember the past few days. That's selective amnesia."

"How come I don't remember my name then?"

"I don't know." She shrugged then sighed softly. "Do you know if you have any family or anything?"

"I don't remember." He sighed disappointed, leaning back against the headrest. "I remember peanut butter and jelly sandwiches . . . I think I had a dog."

"A dog?" Sandra gasped surprised. She had always wanted a dog but her father never let her. "What kind of dog?"

"I don't know." He shook his head at her. "So is it just you and your dad here?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah." She nodded. "My mom died when I was nine. It's just been the two of us since."

"Sorry."

"No it's okay. I miss her every day . . . but it does get a little easier. Deep down I know she's around, watching over me." She smiled at him. "You know you have really pretty eyes, they look like green gems."

"Really?" He asked, blushing slightly. "I like your brown eyes too."

"Thank you."

"Sandy!" Her father shouted from downstairs.

"I'll be right back." She smiled softly, heading out the door. She gave him a wave, heading off down the stairs to see what her father wanted.

"Sandy, there you are. I need you to do a really big favour for me. "

"Sure anything." She nodded, giving him a sweet smile.

"I need you to give this note..." He handed an envelope to her. "To a Detective Brass at the Las Vegas crime lab. Just give it to him directly, don't tell him who it's from or anything."

"Okay Dad." Sandra nodded, taking the envelope in her hands.

Nick arrived in LA a good four hours later, finding out the Detective he was looking for had in fact been murdered a few hours ago so he head straight for the police station, walking over to the lead detective's desk. He looked at the name sat on the edge of the desk reading: Detective Daniel Sanders. Huh? That can't be a coincidence. "Excuse me." Nick cleared his throat getting the Detective's attention.

"Can I help you sir?" He asked looking up at Nick with an inviting smile.

"Yeah, I'm Nick Stokes with the Las Vegas crime lab." He showed him his badge to verify his identity.

"What can I help you with CSI Stokes?"

"I came lookin' for a Detective Burrow; apparently he was murdered last night?"

"Ah yes. He's not a Detective anymore though." Detective Sanders shuffled through the piles of files on his desk, presenting Nick with the right one. "Single gunshot wound to the back of the head."

"Did you close the case?"

Detective Sanders chuckled shaking his head. "It's only been on my desk for six hours son. I'm good, but I'm not that good. What are you investigating Tony Burrow's death for anyway, isn't it out of your jurisdiction?"

"I needed to ask him some questions about some evidence he checked out nine years ago that's since disappeared." Nick sighed heavily as he made the trip for nothing. "Hey do you mind if I look over the evidence you have so far?"

"Course not." Detective Sanders grabbed his jacket, pulling it over his shoulders then led Nick off towards the Crime lab of the station.

Nick looked around at the crime lab open mouthed. It was much grander and more high tech then the one they have back in Vegas. They even had a few machines in there that he had never even seen before. Big beautiful machines shooting out answers to the lab techs. Suddenly he missed working in the lab again. If he had all these wonderful toys to play with he probably would have kept his position in the lab.

"Mr Stokes?" Detective Sanders questioned. "Are you feeling okay? You're acting like you never saw a crime lab before?"

"Oh I have. This is just so much more high tech then the one we've got in Vegas." He chuckled slightly.

"Really?" He queried. "I don't know why my son was so eager to transfer then." He huffed, leading the way through the lab. Son? Nick questioned himself, quickly following after the Detective before he lost him in the maze like halls.

The Detective stopped at a DNA lab, holding the doors open for Nick. "Mindy this is Nick Stokes from the Las Vegas Crime Lab." He introduced him. "Nick this is our DNA specialist Mindy Simkins. Can you show him what you got on the Tony Burrows case?"

Nick looked over at her giving her a warm smile. She had long brown hair and dark eyes wearing smart but subtly flirty clothing.

"Sure." Mindy nodded, grabbing a file off her efficiently organised desk. "The coroner confirmed that his cause of death was the single gunshot wound to the back of the head. I didn't find anything in his blood work. But there was a foreign DNA sample. There's nothing in our data, but I'd say it was a male."

"What kind of DNA sample?" Nick queried, looking over her results.

"Spit." She simply said.

Detective Sanders nodded then re-read his report. "One witness said the shooter was dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt and he had very green eyes." Nick looked up at the Detective shocked. "What?"

"Nothin'." Nick shook his head. He remembered a young man in a black hooded sweatshirt with very green eyes at the twin's crime scene, but that can't be a coincidence, right? He asked himself. "Mindy could you fax this over to a Wendy Simms in the Las Vegas crime lab?" Nick requested. Mindy nodded, heading over to her fax machine. "Can I look at the bullets?" Nick asked the Detective.

"Sure, I think Robbie's on break right now. But he always leaves his files out." Detective Sanders led the way towards Robbie's lab. Nick looked at the name on the outside of the door reading 'Robert Lawson.' Nick never believed in coincidences before, but this was all just too strange. "Here it is." Detective Sanders fished out the file, handing it over to Nick.

Nick looked over the results, seeing the bullet was classed as a 357 magnum too. "Huh?"

"What?" The Detective asked curiously.

"This is the exact same bullet as the case I'm workin'."

"You want me to fax that over to someone?" He asked.

"Yeah, Bobby Dawson of the Las Vegas crime lab."

"Really?" Nick nodded, watching a smile spread across the Detective's face. He took the file from Nick's hands, faxing over the sheets to Bobby Dawson. "Anything else I can help you with Mr Stokes?"

"No I think that's okay for now. Will you keep me posted?" Nick asked, handing over his card.

"Sure. Let me know if there's anything else we can do to help you." The Detective led Nick back out the lab, back towards his desk.

"Out of curiosity?" Nick started to ask. "What's your son's name?"

"What my Greg? His names Greg Sanders. He left the lab here where he worked as a DNA specialist to join the field in Las Vegas against my wishes, but thankfully they haven't accepted his application yet. You never know . . . he could be working with you soon enough."

"Oh." Nick nodded, holding back a smile. "Thanks again, Detective Sanders."

"No problem Nick. Do me a favour and make sure my son's application doesn't get processed."

"I can't do that sir. That's my supervisor's job."

"Oh. Maybe you could just look out for him then? He's only twenty nine; I don't know why he always insists on having some adventure in his life." Nick nodded then waved him off, heading back to his truck.

The more he thought about this Greg Sanders, the more he wanted to taste those sweet lips of his, which was very weird for him to think about since he's never thought of another man in that way before.

Greg Sanders must truly be something special to pull at Nick's heart strings like that.

First Uploaded May 9th = Re-edited 6th September 2010