A/N: Usual disclaimer--don't own anything, however we did think up Bizzy, Ava, Annie, and Will Grissom! We are ahead of our own schedule, so here's the first chapter of next story! Enjoy!!

Possessions Chapter 1

One of the girls lifted the box from the shelf. It wasn't meant to be hidden—a simple wooden box stained a dark brown, a few careless scratches and worn places on its surface. It had been around as long as either could remember; once, at a very young age, the girl holding the box had asked her mother if she could have it.

Her mother had taken the box from her hands—it had seemed heavy—and placed it on a higher shelf. "No," she said. "This belongs to me—some things I want to keep."

"I want to see what's in here." The child said as she jumped out of a chair.

"Be careful!" Her sister hissed. The girls were almost mirror images of each other. Last year, in an effort to look different, one had cut her curly hair to her shoulders while the other's hair trailed down her back in long tangled waves barely tamed by the butterfly clips she wore.

The box shifted and both girls gasped before it settled back into her hands. She stepped backwards to a desk, looked up and decided it would be better if she placed it on the floor, shielded from the doorway by the desk. They wanted privacy and their mother's desk served that purpose. And, since she was away, they knew what they were doing would be their secret.

They settled more under the desk than beside it. Sun from the open windows provided plenty of light for the room and they could hear voices from outside; their brothers were playing ball and their voices meant the girls were safe from prying eyes. Of course, their older sister was the quiet one. She could slip around on cat's paws and be right behind one when least expected. However, they knew she was reading and once her head was inside a book, she was gone for hours.

Their mother's absence and their father's outside work meant they had time to do whatever they wanted. A casual trip upstairs with no particular purpose had led them to this room and the box. Their thoughts were often so similar that neither could say who had the idea of looking in the box.

The two girls looked at each other—brilliant blue eyes and mischievous grins on their faces—one nodded. "Open it."

The brass fasteners had dulled over the years but were easily lifted by small fingers. Hands from both girls went to the handles.

"Annie, I got it down, I get to open it!"

Annie, the one with the long hair, pulled her hand back to her lap. Her lips formed a pout for a brief second, before she said, "Well, open it. Don't take so long!" She whispered, more out of frustration than her wish for secrecy.

Her sister, Ava, giggled and kept a hand on the top of the box. "What if it's gold and jewels? Or what if it is bones and gross stuff?"

"Mommy doesn't have a bunch of jewels! And why would she have bones and junk?" She kept her hands nervously twisting together in her lap. "Maybe its love letters from old boyfriends!"

Ava rolled her eyes. "Daddy is the only boyfriend she ever had. She says she loved him forever!" The look on her face, a slight lift of her eyebrow, was one of condescension causing her sister to scowl. As twins, they were affectionate with each other; at the same time competition on any level was quick. With her words, she pushed the top, carefully, as both leaned over to view its contents. An exasperated sigh escaped both mouths. There were no jewels, nothing sparkled, no bones or gross stuff. Ava slumped, saying, "It's just papers and stuff."

Annie's hand went inside the box. "I'm going to see what these are." She lifted a brown envelope and turned it over. "It's not sealed." She upended the packet. "Old pictures." She picked up a photograph and handed one to her sister.

"Do we know these people?" Ava held a photograph of two adults leaning against a car with a small girl between them.

Annie looked at the picture she held. "This is Uncle Greg and Uncle Nick—that's Mom and Dad and Aunt Catherine." Her finger tapped each person. "And that's Warrick." She knew everyone even though she had never known Warrick Brown in his life. "This is before us."

She turned her attention to the one held by Ava, shaking her head. "Don't know those people." She took the picture, "I think that's Mom as a little girl. It looks like Bizzy."

The other photographs scattered around them as both reached into the box for something else. Old photographs had little interest to them. Annie brought out a folded piece of paper and Ava reached for a well-worn small book.

"This is some old poem," Annie said as she read a few sentences. "I don't like poems. This one says 'I can't help now but wonder what your brown eyes were concealing…'" She made a face, wrinkling her nose. "Ugh!" She folded the page and placed it on the floor.

Ava flipped pages in the book. "This is some old travel book." She turned to the cover. "Costa Rica, 2008. That's a long time ago." She opened the book again and found two faded airline tickets stuck between pages, a dried leaf, a smaller paper with numbers written on it, and two photographs. "This has Mom's name on it." She replaced the tickets and studied the photographs before laying the book among the other photographs.

Annie rummaged in the box and found a stick of wood—a forked twig, not much larger than a new pencil. She giggled as she showed it to her sister and placed it on top of the book. She passed a rolled newspaper to Ava and brought out another envelope.

Ava opened the newspaper finding more than one clipping in the roll. She spread the papers across her leg, wiggled around, and handed several clippings to Annie. "What is this?" Both girls peered at the faded black and white newspaper.

"It's a car—upside down. See the wheels." Annie's finger traced the faded image. She squinted her eyes trying unsuccessfully to clear up the photograph. Her finger went below to the caption and article. She read, "Las Vegas CSI Sara Sidle survives kidnapping by The Miniature Killer. The serial killer is responsible for a number of deaths and known for leaving detailed scale models of the crimes, named The Miniature Killer after it was revealed earlier this month that Las Vegas Police have been investigating multiple murders since the Izzy Delancy death months ago." She looked at her sister whose wide eyes and open mouth showed her astonishment. Annie continued, "Sidle, age 35, was found miles from the scene having escaped entrapment during last night's flash flood. She is recovering in a local hospital. A suspect has been apprehended." She dropped the paper into her lap.

"This is Mommy," Annie pointed to a small postage stamp size picture at the bottom of the article.

A/N: Thanks for reading--leave a review for it!