Alreety there, folks! I'll start with a disclaimer: CSI and all things affiliated completely belong to me! No, seriously, none of it is mine (sob), but Mr. Bruckheimer, should you be bored enough to be reading this, feel free to send CSI my way... Call it a late Christmas present! ;)

Yeah, enough of that. Um, this is a fiction I am writing based on a bizarre dream I had, a while ago now, and it's part 5 of the CSI: Cheryl series (it started off in Miami for background purposes, so it may help to read parts one to four - apparently clicking on my name above will send you to the other parts - it's your choice)

Pairings...there will be some hint's of a Sophia/Sara/Grissom thing, and some hints of Catherine/Warrick, (two of the characters will be having a small love affair – what can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic) There will be a strong Cheryl/Greg friendship (they're the closest in age! But nothing more!) and a Nick/Cheryl friendship, but again nothing more. And I'm going to try to keep the plot quite case driven.

But you don't need to read any more of this, so I'll shut you up and let you read! All I ask is you give it a chance, and if you don't like it, let me know… And if you do like it, let me know :p

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First impressions… their either good or bad, and what's good to one person isn't necessarily good for another. And you only get one chance. Sounds obvious? So why do so many people make the wrong first impression when they know how important they can be?

Cheryl parked her Hummer and looked up at the new building in front of her. Her new place of work. She had had to do one of the things she hated, and pulled a few strings, but she had gotten a job here. She wasn't bothered where in the country she had ended up, as things had gotten fairly bad back at her last place, and that hadn't been entirely her own fault. So maybe hitting at the reporter hadn't been the wisest of decisions, but she had missed him. And she had been suspended, and she had gone to the stupid anger management sessions. But the reason she'd hit out at the reporter in the first place – not her fault! So, here she was… Las Vegas.

Cheryl leant over to the passenger side foot well. Curled up in a fluffy ball was Eddie, her gosling, a leaving present from her friends in Miami. She'd been in Vegas for all of an hour, and it had taken that long to find the Crime Lab. She hadn't even been to her house yet, which was somewhere in Henderson… wherever Henderson was from here. And as a result, her other car was still attached to the Hummer, with all of her belongings in them. Including Eddie. Eddie was going to have to stay with her. And the only place she could leave him was the car. But he had food, water, and an open window. Thankfully, it was a cool day and by the looks of things, the evening would be just as cool.

She got out of her car and tried to straighten her clothes. She had driven from Miami to Las Vegas, beating her belongings which were being shipped, and the only thing she had that was smart enough for a first day at work was a black pair of jeans, and a vest top. Which looked fine, except for the fact the only shoes she had were her running shoes. Oh well. She grabbed her kit and hurried towards the building.

She pushed open the door to the Crime Lab and was met with the usual bustle associated with a busy workplace. She headed straight to the front desk, and asked the receptionist where she could find the man she was after. After being told to try the break room, she headed down one of the corridors, peering nosily into the rooms she walked past. Well, most of them had large glass walls. Especially the room she assumed was the DNA lab.

She walked over to one of the few rooms which had normal walls and stood outside. It looked like the break room. She was about to enter when two voices carried out.

'So, I spoke to Ecklie. He's only gone and hired a new CSI for this shift. What do we need a new CSI for?'

'Sara, there's nothing wrong with a new person.'

'There is when I'm going to be the one babysitting her. I bet she doesn't even know the difference between blood and ketchup.'

'Sara,' repeated the other person. He had an accent Cheryl hadn't heard in a long time, since college. A Texan. 'Everybody has to start somewhere. And I'm pretty certain Ecklie wouldn't hire someone that green.'

Cheryl stepped into the doorway and knocked on the door, 'excuse me, could you help me?'

A woman with shoulder length, dark brown hair looked over at her, and glared, 'interns aren't allowed back here.'

'Oh, I'm not an intern,' said Cheryl. Here we go again, she thought, well aware that even on the best of days, she only just looked old enough to be considered 'of age'. Perhaps choosing to wear her hair in braided pig tails wasn't the best of ideas.

'Well, the school trips aren't allowed back here either.' She told her. She was clearly unhappy about being interrupted.

Cheryl was about to say something when someone appeared behind her, 'Lindsay, what are you doing here? Are you looking for your mom?'

Cheryl turned around to find a tall black man stood behind her, 'I'm sorry?'

'Oh, wow, my bad. You look just like Cath's kid from behind. Although, you are actually about a foot taller than her, now that I look at you.'

'Cath?' Cheryl was lost.

'Never mind. Have you lost your school group?' He asked her as he walked past her into the room.

'School group? What Crime lab allows school tours? And I'm twenty three.'

'Oh, sorry, you look younger,' he said, 'in which case, the interns need to head back that way,' he told her, pointing down the corridor behind her.

'No, you don't understand, I'm,' but she was prevented from explaining why she was there by another voice.

'Lindsay Willows, what are you doing here?' Came an authoritive female voice. Cheryl turned around again to see an older woman with similar coloured hair as herself. 'Oh, you're not Lindsay.' She swept past her and into the room.

'You can't even recognise your own daughter?' Laughed the Texan.

'Can it, Nicky,' she told him, sharply. She turned her attention back to Cheryl. 'School tours aren't allowed to be back here. It's off limits.'

'I'm not here on a school tour! Exclaimed Cheryl, 'I'm twenty three! I left school at… a long time ago. And,' she added, seeing the blonde start to say something else, 'I'm not here for an internship.'

'Willows, how many times to you have been told not to bring your child in here.' Came another voice from behind her. Cheryl didn't even bother turning around.

'She's not my daughter, Ecklie.' Said the blonde.

The man named Ecklie entered the room and looked at Cheryl. 'School tours are,'

'Cheryl Carter, transfer from Miami Dade PD,' Cheryl interrupted before she had to defend her age again.

'Ah, so you are the infamous CSI. Miami hasn't stopped singing your praises, especially after your recent promotion. You're a lot younger than I thought.'

Cheryl scowled. 'Yeah, I get that a lot.'

'I can understand why,' Ecklie continued. 'What you have accomplished is remarkable. I have just finished reading through your file.'

'Thanks.' Cheryl looked at her feet.

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Sara looked at the new girl. How could she possibly have accomplished much? She looked like she was barely out of school, let alone college. Although the name was ringing a bell.

'Are you sure I can't persuade you to head the day shift? Your talents would be better suited there.' Ecklie asked the new girl.

Sara glared incredulously at Cheryl, before sneaking a glance at Catherine. Catherine was fuming, understandably so. Not so long ago, she herself had been a shift leader, and because of the incident with Nick, she was back to being Grissom's second in command. In fact, both herself and Nick had applied for a promotion and here Ecklie was offering it to some child.

'No. Thank you. I just want to get set in here. I am really not supervisor material. More of a sheep than a shepherd.' Cheryl was telling him, an embarrassed expression on her face. Good.

'Very well, let's see, where is Grissom? Ah, here you are. You're late.'

'Ecklie, you are early.' Came another voice. 'I am on time.'

Another man entered the filling room and looked over at the new girl. 'Cheryl, this is your supervisor, Gil Grissom.' Said Ecklie. Sara watched Grissom and was upset to see that he looked happy to see the new girl. Sara sighed. She'd better not be more competition. Did she just think that? She was over Grissom, wasn't she?

'Detective Cheryl Carter, CSI 3. Transferred in from Miami Dade. Pleased to meet you,' Cheryl said, offering her hand to Grissom.

'CSI 4,' corrected Ecklie, as Cheryl and Grissom shook hands. The room looked at her in disbelief. Sara glared at her. She couldn't help it. This girl couldn't be for real, could she? This was either some bizarre dream, or a test.

Cheryl sighed. 'I'm no different from a level 3. It's just some stupid thing the mayor of Miami wanted to do. And the only thing it has ever done for me is cause a lot of grief. Really, it's more of an award, than anything else. Although personally, I think they could have given me a new set of wheels for my Hummer.'

Sara glanced over at Catherine. She was still fuming and glaring at the new girl. Sara was glad it wasn't her who had annoyed her, this time. It was now somebody else's turn to feel the brunt of Catherine's wrath. She hid her mouth behind her hand, so as not to let anyone see the evil grin that was spreading across her face. She glanced over at Warrick and Nick. Both were looking at her like… like they recognised her, or something?

'Don't' be shy, Cheryl,' said Eckile, placing his hand on her shoulder, 'Cheryl here not only saved the Mayor of Miami's son, but also is the brains behind the Cocaine Procedure.'

The Cocaine Procedure? That was her? Sara frowned. That Procedure was relatively new and had only been published a few months ago. Apparently the scientist behind it didn't like talking in front of people, which is why she never did a convention, but made a DVD and sent it out to the crime labs around the country. But the girl on the video had looked a lot older and, like she knew how to handle a gun. This girl, well, she had something that looked like a bullet scar on her shoulder. On top of that, the woman in the video was American, and this girl here had an English accent. Besides, she remembered Warrick saying he had met the woman in the video when he had gone to Miami a few years back on a case. Carry, Carly, or was it Katie? Either way, it wasn't Cheryl.

Sara watched Cheryl cringe, 'it still doesn't deserve a level 4 to be tagged on to it,' she said quietly, obviously aware of the glares coming from Catherine and the ones she was also sending her way.

'Of course it does,' said Ecklie. He turned and left the room, 'come find me if you have any problems,' he shouted over his shoulder.

'Well this is awkward,' said Cheryl to the staring group, her face was turning the same colour as her crimson top. And then…

Save a horse, ride a cowboy…

Sara fought to withhold another smile, and then she saw Nick's face light up at the sound. Sara sighed; it wasn't going to take much to make him like her.

'Um, excuse me,' Cheryl pulled her cell out of her phone, and flicked it open. 'Y'ello…. Hey, Horatio… I'm here now… ask away…' Cheryl turned redder and covered the mouth piece as she started laughing, 'no, Horatio, I haven't seen your sunglasses… Me? Hide them...? Nah, you must have me confused with Delko… He's not seen them? Have you tried asking Calleigh…? I know she was saying she thought they would look good with the shoes she bought the other day…' She covered up the mouth piece again, and let out another cackle, 'Okay, okay, I give up. They're in the Hummer door pocket… No, I'm not telling you which one. You're the CSI, you work it out… Horatio, I am shocked, I mean, I never expected to hear those words out of your mouth… well, if you want to do that, fine, but if I end up dead tomorrow, you are going to be top of the suspect list…! Yeah, you too.' She hung up the phone and turned back to face the group, 'sorry, that was-'

Calleigh, that was the name of the woman who had been in the video. So what? Had this girl stolen the procedure off the other woman? Or had she stolen her identity? Or both? Sara continued to glare at her – she would have to find out which it was, because currently, this girl was sounding almost too good to be true, and lord knows she'd worked enough fraud cases in the past to realise something wasn't right.

'Horatio Caine?' Asked Catherine.

'You know him?' Cheryl said, returning the question with another.

'We worked on a case together a few years back.' Catherine looked like she was going to say something but stopped. Cheryl bit her lip and looked to the ground. This was not going how she expected.

'You mean you hid that guy's shades, and you are still alive?' Asked Warrick. He had told Sara about the case in Miami after he had returned from the same case with Catherine.

'Yeah, but there are a few miles between us now.' Cheryl looked at him, 'I see his reputation for wearing sunglasses had spread to this side of America, or have you've met him too?'

'Yeah, I worked with him too. Sorry, I'm Warrick. Warrick Brown.' Sara watched as he walked over and shook her hand.

'So, you're twenty three and a CSI,' Sara scowled, '4.'

Cheryl rubbed the back of her neck. 'Yeah, something like that.'

'And on that note, I have tonight's assignments. Catherine, you and Nick have a 419 out on the strip,' said Grissom, interrupting her before Sara could continue with her investigating. 'Warrick, you're with me on a B&E, and Sara, you take Cheryl and Greg for a DB…' he trailed off. 'Where is Greg?'

'Locker room, Grissom.' Said Catherine.

Grissom lips locked together in a thin line, 'his tardiness, recently, has become a little excessive.' He mumbled, as the group quickly filed out of the room.

'Told you so,' Sara grumbled to Nick as he walked out. 'Tell Greg we'll meet him outside.' She marched off, out of the room, leaving Cheryl to follow her out, wondering how long this shift was going to last.