CSI Fan Fiction Critique Group.

Hey everyone. I want to respond to everyone's critiques right now, but unfortunately I'm just way too busy during the day this weekend. I get a spare half hour or so where I'm really able to concentrate on something, and that just isn't long enough to give you all the thanks you deserve. I'll get it done when I do my next critique, I promise!

Amanda_Ruth ^_^

 

Okkaaay kids since nobody volunteered I get to have a little fun!

CSI Critique Fanfiction #26: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation; CSI: Miami; CSI: New York; Exercies in character development.


One of the toughest aspects of writing fanfiction is mastering characterization. It can be tough to create characters in original fiction and there we have all the creative license in the world. However, in fanfiction, we have to conform to the previously outlined characterization made by someone else. Sometimes that's easier and sometimes that's harder.

Still. Sometimes we could all use a little practice, right?

So I want you to create an OC for any fandom as though you were writing them to be put on the show. I want the following.

Full Name:
Nickname:
Date of Birth:
Role on the show:
Education:
Complete family tree:
Interests:
Favorite music (At least three artists):
Favorite movie:
Favorite Food:
Favorite Color:
Mini Bio/Anything else we should know (about their life, mannarisms, do they like dogs?, etc.):
One written page about their introduction to your fandom of choice. Call it a mini-fic:


Can be ANY character. Three years old to eighty-three or anything else you fancy. Just have fun with it. The idea is to get thinking about what goes in to developing a character.

However IF you want to use a previously established character, that's fine. (I'm considering doing Nick Stokes or Kyle (H's son)). Because sometimes we don't think about the above mentioned aspects of a person, even one we know well. Sometimes it's the little things that make the difference between decent and "spot-on" characterization.

Again as with all other "special projects" I initiate if anyone has an inherant problem with this, please let me know. I'll try to help work something out with you. If you all think this is a bad idea and don't want to participate, let me know. I'll try to figure something else out.


Please remember that all bios are due by this Saturday.

Please, if you have a fic you want featured next week, PM me.

The next fatured fic will be featured on Sunday, May 25, 2008.

 

Heyy all

I'm back (and staying btw).

I gotta say, what an interesting project, I cant wait to get started One question though, are we posting these on FF? or do we PM them to you? Sorry if I'm being dumb :S

L
xxx

 

I thought we'd just post them on here. *shrugs* I suppose you can PM them to me, but then nobody else gets to share in the love.

What I did (I'm finished already) in case anyone is wondering, was post it on my freewebs account. But that's because I wanted to use visuals. I thought I'd just link to it here, whenever I felt I had enough up there to post. (I'm still working on one of those visuals.)

But I thought, honsetly, we'd just kinda copy and paste the info here. I'm not sure posting on ff.net would be apropriate, though, I suppose we could.

And, by the way, I missed you! Welcome back. It hasn't been the same without you here.

 

I've changed my mind LLK.

I'm using an OC I created for an RP site I'm one Yey!

 

Bleh, can;t believe I didn't think of that. I am dumb hehe. Will post it here when I'm done

Thank you , I missed being here, but I'm glad to back :bolian:

 

I'm done with mine so I figured I'd post it so you can all investigate it and see how I did it. It's subject to change though. So be warned.

If you would like to see it in context please click here.


***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****


Abbie Castile


(Photo of Helen Anker, broadway actress. Found via google search "short brown hair.")

Full Name: Serena Abernathy Abshire-Castile
Nickname: Abbie
Date of Birth: April 17, 1977.
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Role on the show: Forensic Psychologist
Education: The Chicago School of Professional Psychology;Degree Earned:Certificate in Applied Forensic Psychology.
Complete family tree: CLICK ABOVE PHOTOGRAPH
Interests: Cooking, psychology, video gaming.
Favorite music (At least three artists): Evanessence, Hanna Fury, Kate Bush, KT Tunstall, Pink, Gwen Stefani, Celine Dion.
Favorite movie: Before Sunrise
Favorite Food: Italian. Any form.
Favorite Color: Red.

Mini Bio/Anything else we should know (about their life, mannarisms, do they like dogs?, etc.): Not overly talkitive. Grew up with single mother and two younger brothers until age of fourteen. Lived with her father throughout high school and college until she married. Married Jonathan Casitle when they discovered they were pregnant her Junior Year of college. Has two children. Widowed. Best friends with Archie Johnson. Only pet is a betta fish called Humphrey.

One written page about their introduction to your fandom of choice. Call it a mini-fic:
First Day:
“Mom, can we get a dog?” She hadn't even known he was awake, he was laying with his head resting against the passenger's side window and had been for the last hour of their drive.


“Honey, we're moving, it's not the best time to bring someone else into our family.” She reached a hand across the car and rubbed his arm gently. Then letting her hand climb a bit she pushed a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. “We'll get one though. If that's what you really want, but we might have to wait a few months until we're settled. Maybe for your birthday?”


“Whatever,” he shook her hand away. “It's not like you mean it, anyway.”


“I do too,” she protested. “Look, I get that you're mad at me about the move but this is something we have to do. I promise, it'll get better. And I do mean it, we can get a dog if you want. We both know you don't really want one though.”


“It's not MY fault I'm scared of dogs,” her so said to her, picking up his face and turning it to glare at her. “Last time I checked it was your husband that let me get bitten by that dalmatian when I was five.”


“Jonathan Thomas,” she started to scold him for talking about his father that way. In the end, however, she decided against it. He needed his own way of dealing, even a year and a half later, just like she did.


She watched him as he turned away from her and brooded int the corner, as best he could. It was humorous to her that he had such an ability to find places to tuck himself into, to be angry. Other people had told her that she should worry about him and his ability to hold a grudge as long as he could. They had warned her that it was a sign of some sort of serious psychological damage. Abbie, however, knew her son well enough to know that wasn't true. He was just like her, he felt things in extremes.


He was usually a happy kid and she knew as she pulled in to their new driveway that he'd calm down now that he was home. Granted, he'd never seen the home before, but it was enough. It was smaller, considerably so, than their place in Port Washington, but it had three bedrooms and that's all they needed. She pulled the car to a stop and turned off the engine, deciding to let her son climb out of the car when he pleased, she grabbed the jar out of the cup holder beside her and walked around to the door closest to her other child.


Setting the jar on the roof of the car for a moment she said, “stay here for just a second Humphrey, I gotta get Rory out of her baby seat.” The purple fish inside flared at her a bit and contentedly swam a circle in his jar.


Rory woke up a she began unbuckling her from her child seat. “There yet?” She was half asleep as she asked the question, leaning forward and burrowing her tiny face into her mother's shoulder. Abbie held her daughter close and ran a hand up and down her back gently. “Yeah babe, we're here. Want to go see your new room?”


“No,” the girl stated with as much determination as Abbie had ever heard her child speak in. She was too young to fully understand what was going on, but apparently not as oblivious as Abbie had suspected.


“Yes you do,” Abbie said to her daughter, tickling her belly gently and lowering her face to drop a couple of kisses on her cheeks. “Of course you do.”


“Moooommy,” she heard her son calling from already inside their new home. He must have grabbed her keys and gone in while she was playing with the two-year old. “This house is backwards.”


She chuckled a little at her son's description of their new home and smiled. She lowered her daughter to the ground, not letting go of her hand, and grabbed Humphrey's jar off of the top of the car. “I'd call it more upside-down than backwards if you asked me.” She said as she walked up next to her son.


The stairs led down instead of up. It was like the bedrooms were in the basement, but not really. You just started out in the living room, on the second floor. “This is so cool,” her son was gushing. “Hey mom do I get to pick my bedroom first?”


“I thought you'd like it,” she said, commenting on his reaction to their new home. “And your bedroom is the second on the left down there.” He was out of sight down the stairs. She gave her daughter a little push towards the stairs and said “you want to go see too?”


As she heard her son telling her daughter he'd help her find her bedroom she looked at the fish in her hand. “I haven't figured out where your room is yet. Do you want to be a computer desk fish? Or a kitchen fish? Or maybe you want to live in the TV room this time?” The fish swam another circle around his jar and then just looked at her. As long as he got out of the jar and back into his five gallon aquarium, and soon, he didn't care. “I think, if you don't mind, I want you to live in the kitchen on the end of the counter so I can spend time with you in the mornings, and you'll be able to see the TV from in there.”


Of course she knew that it didn't matter if the fish could see the television or not and spending time with her was of as little importance as anything else, but she really liked the fish. He was almost a sort of transitional item for her. He'd been a gift to her for the last valentine's day she'd spent with her husband.


“Mommy,” she heard her son say again as he came into the kitchen behind her. She smiled, enjoying the sound of him calling her mommy, reverting just a bit to the little boy he wasn't anymore. She lowered Humphrey's jar to the counter and looked at her son, waiting for him to finish. My room is so cool it has a shelf with my bed on it.”


“It's called a loft, and isn't that neat?” the wall of her son's bedroom came out a bit and then went high creating a nook beneath and a loft above for a queen sized mattress. She knew her son would love the room as soon as he saw it. “I figure we can put your school desk down below and then maybe hang a sheet or curtain, kinda like a little fort.”


Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of someone coming in to their apartment. When Abbie walked into the living room to investigate as to who it was that came into their home she saw her friend, Archie. She actually ran to him, something she rarely ever did, and threw her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “I can't believe you're here! I thought you weren't coming over until tomorrow night.”

 

Somehow my post got posted before I was finished! I can't find the "delete" function, but the actual post is below. This will be it from me for a few days, too--my family is coming to town for a visit and I probably won't get any computer time, so I'll be incomunicato until Tuesday or Wednesday. Enjoy your weekends everybody, and I'll see y'all in a few days

 

So much detail...I think my brain is going into overload :lol: And that's saying a lot, because I'm usually a pain in the butt when it comes to laying everything out for an OC (which I tend to write a lot). But it's a good kind of overload! I've got all kinds of little things to drop into the story now!

Okay, my bio is actually for 2 OCs that I'm using in an upcoming fic. They're brother & sister, and the "mini fic" that goes with them is actually the first chapter to the new one, which hasn't been posted anywhere yet. It begins just after the end of season 5 and will (hopefully) run through season 6.

Full Name: Abigail Elizabeth Scott, RN, CEN
Nickname(s): Abby, Abs
DOB: January 23, 1980
Role on Show: friend/love interest for Ryan Wolfe
Education: graduated Homestead Senior High School in 1998
Associate of Science in Nursing from Miami-Dade College in 2000
Certified Emergency Nurse designation in 2002
Interests: old school video games, movies, rollerblading, cooking
Favorite Music: Daughtry, Sugarland, Lifehouse, Seether, The Bangles, her neighbor's mariachi band, anything but hip hop and death metal
Favorite Movie: doesn't have one, likes to many to choose
Favorite Food: all things sweet
Favorite Color: University of Miami orange & green
Other: Father died during Hurricane Andrew, the same day her brother was born, when she was 12; mother died in a car accident when Abby was 17; moved in with paternal grandmother until she graduated from nursing school; grandmother went to a nursing home and Abby was granted custody of her younger brother


Full Name: Matthew Thomas Scott, Jr.
Nickname(s): Matt, Matty
DOB: August 24, 1992
Role on Show: friend/little brother figure for Ryan Wolfe
Education: student at Miami Central Senior High School's Computer Technology magnet program
Interests: the newest video games, Florida Marlins, computers
Favorite Music: Green Day, Linkin Park, The Hives, Lostprophets
Favorite Movie: The Sum of All Fears, and anything else based on a Tom Clancy novel
Favorite Food: his sister's nachos
Favorite Color: red
Other: born in a hurricane shelter during Hurricane Andrew the same day his father died; lost his mother to a car accident when he was 5; moved in with paternal grandmother until he finished 2nd grade; has lived only with older sister from 3rd grade onward

family tree->http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v421/zelda49/familytree.jpg

(ignore the red writing--those were geographical notes to myself!)



Intro to fandom
Just Might Make Me Believe chapter 1: "Say Hello"



Fifteen-year-old Matthew Scott walked into the computer lab at the Miami Boys & Girls Club after school, dropping his backpack beside his usual seat and shoving his cell phone into his pocket.

“Hey Matt,” a familiar voice called. “How was school today?”

The boy sighed in response, meeting the eyes of Ryan Wolfe when he spoke. “We had a test in Algebra Two today. But,” he continued, brightening, “It was the last test of the year. All we’ve got left now is to get ready for exams.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ryan smiled, patting his shoulder. “What about Chemistry?”

The cheer faded from Matthew’s features. “It’s so boring,” he complained, slumping into the plastic chair at his workstation. “We hardly spent any time doing labs, and now we’re not going to have any more at all ’cause there isn’t time.”

“Hey, remember what I told you last week?” Ryan asked, taking a seat at the next computer.

Matthew bowed his head, silent for a moment before answering reluctantly. “That you have to get good at the boring stuff before you can start to have fun.”

“Actually what I said was that you need to have good fundamentals before you can get into the more advanced aspects of a discipline,” Ryan reminded him. “But I like your version, too.”

The smile reappeared on Matthew’s face. “So it’s gonna get better?”

Ryan nodded, grinning at his young charge as he rose. “Until you get to Organic.”

---​

A few hours later Matthew’s cell phone chirped in his pocket as he played video games with another regular at the Club, signaling the arrival of a text message.

“Hey Matt, isn’t that supposed to be on ‘vibrate’ in here?” Ryan asked him from across the room.

“Sorry,” Matthew replied, a chagrined expression on his face. “It’s my sister—she’s on her way to pick me up.”

“You better log off and get your stuff together, then,” Ryan told him. “And make sure your phone’s on ‘silent’ tomorrow, huh?” he added with a half-smirk.

“Okay,” Matthew answered with a smile. Ten minutes later he strode down the hall and out of the building, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He spotted his sister’s car, watching her climb out of the driver’s seat as he approached.

“Hey Matty,” she called cheerily, reaching up to slide an arm around his shoulders. “How was school today?”

“Okay,” he responded with a small smile. “We had a fire drill in third period, so I got out of presenting in Psychology.”

“For today,” she reminded him. “You know you’re going to have to present your project eventually—that’s part of the grade.”

He hung his head a bit. “I know. But,” he continued, perking up, “not next class, because the people that were supposed to go today have to go first and there won’t be time for me.”

“Maybe you can run through it for me tonight after dinner,” she suggested, ruffling his hair affectionately as she released him.

“Matt!”

Both siblings’ heads swiveled in the direction of the shout, eyeing a man jogging across the parking lot toward them. “Hey Matt, you forgot your cell phone,” he called, holding up the device.

Matthew rolled his eyes, annoyed with himself. “Oh man, I left it in the lab again.” He walked a few yards from the car, the annoyance changing to relief as he took the phone and inspected it. “Thanks Ryan. My sister would kill me if I lost this.”

“Is that her?” Ryan asked, shifting his gaze to the woman in question. She leaned against the car dressed in lavender hospital scrubs, her brown hair pulled up into a ponytail that ended in a little flip above the nape of her neck.

Matthew nodded. “Yeah. Abby?” He twisted around to look at his sister, motioning her to come closer. “This is Ryan.”

“Ah, the infamous ‘Ryan’,” she smiled as she pried herself off the car and moved forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you—Matty talks about you all the time.”

Ryan shook the hand she offered, staring at her inquisitively. “He talks about you a lot, too, but I always thought you were younger.” A strange look briefly crossed her features before she managed to suppress it, an I-don’t-quite-know-how-to-take-that look, and he realized he said something wrong. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that you were old…I just thought—”

“It’s okay,” Abby chuckled. “Happens all the time. Matt’s friends all think I should be younger and my friends all think he should be older. Just for the record, I’m twenty-seven,” she winked.

He knew the relief was evident on his face, but Ryan didn’t care. “So you’re…” He paused a moment to do the math in his head. “…twelve years older?”

“Give the man an award,” Matthew chimed in with a mocking clap of his hands. “He can subtract without a calculator.”

“Which is more than you did today academically,” Ryan smirked. “Oh, but you did move up three levels in whatever that game was you were playing with Kevin, so that’s something.”

Matthew grinned, slightly embarrassed as he anticipated his sister’s question. “So, yeah, I have homework tonight,” he told her.

“Then we better get home,” Abby decided. Shifting her gaze back to Ryan, she smiled. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, uh, you too,” he responded. Then, to Matthew, “And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye Ryan,” the boy replied with a friendly wave.

Ryan waited in the parking lot until the Scotts had pulled safely into traffic before heading back to his post in the computer lab, still shaking his head over what his family called his “foot-in-mouth disease”. Maybe someday I’ll stop saying dumb things to people. He frowned, pulling open the outer door. Nah, that’s never gonna happen. But at least Abby didn’t seem offended…

**Am I the only one that hates Word right now? I just spent several minute of my life that I can never get back taking out all those stupid tags. :scream:***

 

This is really long, I know. I'm sorry! I just... well, this may end up being the first chapter to a new story I'm writing, so... yeah. It's a Bones/CSI crossover... KINDA, but it is a crossover. Otherwise I wouldn't be using Janelle

Full Name
Janelle Ilaria Robustelli

Nickname
Ella

Date of Birth
May 14th, 1979

Role on the show
Victim

Education
Bachelors Degree in Women's Studies from the University of Maryland
Masters Degree in Women's Studies from the University of Maryland
Seeking her Ph.D. in Women's Studies from the University of Maryland

Complete family tree
The Robustelli Family Tree

Interests
Dancing (ballet and jazz), debating women's rights, reading, writing, and the beach.

Favorite music (At least three artists)
Frank Sinatra, Tchaikovsky, 3 Doors Down, The Beatles, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Jonathan Larson, Stephen Sondheim, Daughtry, KT Tunstall, Josh Groban, Queen, The Wilshires, Enya, Toby Keith, Boys 2 Men, Keith Urban, Carrie Underwood, The Who, Nickelback, Blake Lewis, Christina Aguilera, Clay Aiken, and Chris Brown

Favorite movie
Casablanca

Favorite Food
Eggplant Parmesean or Sushi (California Roll or Philadelphia Roll)

Favorite Color
Scarlet and Black

Mini Bio/Anything else we should know (about their life, mannarisms, do they like dogs?, etc.)

Started dancing ballet at age three, and began jazz at age six. Began reading early at age four and a half, and her dance progression slowed as she got more into books. She is very introverted, and had few friends growing up. After college, she amassed a healthy number of friends. Had begun college at the age of sixteen, and by twenty two she had received her Master's degree in Women's Studies at the University of Maryland. She worked at the National Women's Studies Association center located in Maryland. Becoming a part of the ballet corps in her hometown at twenty five, she met her first boyfriend after one of her shows. The long distance relationship lasted for three years before she disappeared on May 19th, 2008.

One written page about their introduction to your fandom of choice. Call it a mini-fic

Janelle was perched on a bench outside of the restaurant her boyfriend had told her to meet him at. Anticipating the dress code for this particular restaurant, her hair was pulled back and up into a tight bun, curled tendrils of cocoa hair framing her face. A deep scarlet dress hugged her upper body, and hung loosely from her hips as it traveled down to just above her knees. Her favorite part of the dress was how the straps holding it around her neck criss-crossed in the back and met at the hips of her dress. Not only was it her favorite dress, but it was also Greg's.

It was a really nice restaurant, and she was a bit suspicious of his motives behind the date. It may have been her birthday, but he had never gone to such lengths for it before. The problem was, she couldn't put her finger on what he might be planning.

She was thirty minutes early - her usual pattern - and was grasping the latest novel by Dr. Temperance Brennan between her fingers. For years she had been looking for books that would challenge her mind, make her think. She had found it in the series of novels based around the life of Kathy Reichs. She loved them, and she always wondered if she would've been able to pursue a career in forensic anthropology.

Enthralled in the novel, she turned yet another page. When a hand brushed gently against her shoulder, she jumped, sending the book tumbling to the sidewalk.

"Merda!" she exclaimed, bending over to retrieve the fallen paperback. She heard Greg chuckling, obviously at her Italian expletive. "Gregory Hojem Sanders, don't you know better than to sneak up on a woman while she's reading." She looked up with a playful grin pulling at her lips to show him that she was only kidding.

"I couldn't help myself, Ella. You make it so easy." She felt the blush creep into her cheeks, and inwardly chastised herself. Three years, and she still wasn't used to being flirted with, even by her own boyfriend. She lifted herself from the bench, his hand delicately grasping hers.

When she was fully upright and on her feet, he pulled her into him. She laughed quietly, but was cut short by his lips on hers. Smiling into the kiss, she couldn't help but reminisce about their first. It was her actual first kiss, and her inexperience had caused them to bump noses. Greg was unbelievably patient over the years, but now, though, she was better. She wasn't the best, she knew that, but she couldn't see herself kissing anyone else but him.

Breaking away from him, she looked up at him and noticed a glimmer of something unfamiliar in his eyes. She cocked an eyebrow, but it seemed to go unseen by him.

Jutting out an elbow, he gave her a half grin, preparing to mimic one of the many actors from the movies they loved to watch together. "Shall we, sweetheart?" She laughed heartily at his impression, this time of Humphrey Bogart, her favorite actor. Nodding, she laced her arm with his and strode alongside him into the restaurant.

---

The meal went off without a hitch, but with each passing moment, Janelle could see Greg getting more and more nervous. He would continue to look around the room and check his watch every couple of minutes, as if anticipating a pending disaster.

The sounds of the band warming up seemed to trigger something within him, and his fidgeting ceased completely. Withing moments, she learned why. A man in a tailored suit stood at the podium in front of the bandstand, a microphone gripped firmly within his fist.

You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss
A sigh is just a sigh
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by

She tore herself from the man singing, sure of the awestruck look plastered on her face. When her gaze returned to Greg, he was holding a small box between his fingers.

And when two lovers woo
They still say, "I love you"
On that you can rely
No matter what the future brings
As time goes by

Watching him fiddle with the box, her eyes began to sting with the threat of tears. His mouth opening drew her attention back to his eyes, where she saw a look she hadn't seen since their first date.

Moonlight and lovesongs
Never out of date
Hearts full of passion
Jealousy and hate
Woman needs man
And man must have his mate
That, no one can deny
It's still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die
The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by

It seemed as if his face had frozen as he was about to speak, and anxiety was taking over her. She had a clear idea of what he was going to ask her, based solely on the earlier impression of her favorite actor from her favorite movie. But followed by her favorite song by her favorite singer? A song from that same movie? That cinched it. She decided to wait out his nerve induced coma, so he could say it himself.

It's still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die
The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by

As the final notes of the song played, she became increasingly worried that he wasn't going continue. She gave him a reassuring smile, the tears stinging behind her eyes becoming almost impossible to hold back.

Finally, he began to blink himself from his reverie, giving her the goofy smile that was unique to him. Her smile wavered and fell, leaving a frown pulling at her own lips. Not out of sadness, but out of nerves.

"Ella, I love you more than you could ever imagine. You've been there for me when I thought I would be left to fight on my own." He took a deep breath, and she presumed it was because he was about to start rambling. "If I don't spit this out now, I don't think I'll be able to." She smiled, trying to comfort him and urge him on. He opened the box, revealing a white gold, diamond engagement ring. "Janelle Ilaria Robustelli, will you marry me?"

Following the utterance of her full name and those four words, her control broke, and the tears began flowing freely down her cheeks. Unable to speak, she nodded her head quickly. His goofy grin widened infinitely, and he reached over to take her left hand in his right. She watched him slip the ring on her finger, a wide grin pulling at her lips.

They stood simultaneously, and the quiet applause from the other customers as she kissed him made all the blood rush to her cheeks and neck. Despite that, she continued kissing him. She was too happy to be embarrassed.

 

Full Name: Joseph Alistair Donahue

Nickname: Joe, AJ (by his grandfather)

Date of Birth: April 8th 1976 (30)

Role on the show: Behavioral Analysist / Psychiatrist (specializing in the Occult and Ritualistic Practice)

Education: Graduated South Carolina University

Complete family tree: http://www.myheritage.com/FP/family-tree.php?s=27010712

Interests: His daughter, bike riding, socializing, volunteering at the local hospital, going to the gym, running.

Favorite music: Trace Adkins, Carrie Underwood, The Buena Vista Social Club

Favorite movie: Kill Bill, The Shawshank Redemption

Favorite Food: Sea food - specifically salmon. Though his Southern roots keep him tied to Jambalaya and other such pot dishes

Favorite Color: Black

Hair color: Dark brown

Eye color: Blue

Height: 6 3

Build: Muscular

Mini Bio:

He plays the bad boy, but has a good heart. Joe likes to consider himself a ladies man, flirting around a lot. But when it comes down to it, he enjoys the stability of serious relationship and doing anything to spoil the girl he's with.

He grew up very close to his grandfather, Alistair, who chose to call him AJ as term of affection (inverting the name his mother gave him). At age eleven, his mother was admitted into the South Carolina Psychiatric Hospital when the symptoms doctors put off as a 'maladaptive disorder' escalated into schizophrenia. Being left with a distant father, Joseph spent his days with his grandfather, learning how to hunt and fish; learning the value of an education.

Knowing his mother was wrongly diagnosed, he drifted towards psychology at college, determined to prevent such errors - ultimately he took a path through medicine to get into psychiatry. After spending a few months working in hospitals he came across a young patient. A little boy, Harry, who had been systematically abused by his career. Learning the details of Harry's abuse, Joe found himself dawn towards studying evil, and the ways in which it could be presented. Eventually, he drifted towards ritualistic killings and the psychology behind the psychopaths that law enforcement officials often come across.

He visits his mother whenever possible, and has lost all contact with his father. Unfortunately, his grandfather passed away just after Joe's 18th Birthday, and never got to see the result of the care he gave.

At 25 his then serious partner, Larissa Tarasov, gave birth to a girl, Aimee. Larissa has since left the country to return to Russia with their child. Joe sees Aimee whenever possible, but long ago daemons keep his relationship with the child’s mother tense and heated.

Mini-fic (Actually the opening to a new fic I'm planning ):

"Daddy, I don't wanna go home again!” Aimee cried, shaking her blond head. Joe glanced down into her baby-blue eyes and felt his heart break. “I wanna stay with you daddy.”

Joe took his daughters hand, tugging the five-year-old onto his lap. “I know you do, angel, but your mommy wants you to go back home with her. You can come visit next holiday.” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair for the last time. It killed him to let her go home, but the deal he and his ex had agreed upon was set - Joe would see Aimee at the holidays, and she would stay with Larissa for the rest of the year.

“But I don’t like Russia,” she complained. Joe simply smiled, unwilling to have the same argument with her again. Placing her hand into her mothers, Joe smiled one last time. “Bye,” the child murmured tearfully, clinging to her fathers hand until the very last moment.

As Larissa closed the car door behind her daughter, she glanced to her ex-boyfriend. “Thanks, Joe,” she said, her Russian accent thicker than ever. “She always has a great time with you.” Joe nodded, biting his lip as things got to that awkward stage again. Months apart left them both refreshed -- neither really thought of the other-- but being thrown back together again, the tension between them would rise. “I should…. I should go.” She tossed her strawberry hair over her shoulders, smiling up at the blue eyes in front of her. Larissa lifted up on her tiptoes, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “Goodbye Joseph,” she whispered.

“Bye, he replied, scratching his head through his dark hair. He waved at the small hand that appeared at the back window, keeping his hand in the air until they rounded a corner.

Joe sighed, glancing at his watch. With his daughter gone, it was time to catch his plane.

---

“Miss Duquesne; long time no see,” Joe called out down the corridor of the MDPD crime lab.

Calleigh turned on her heel, letting out an excited gasp when she saw the man in from of her. Leaving Ryan and Eric behind her she skipped over, wrapping her arms around the man the suit. “AJ!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing down in Miami?”

“That serial killer that’s been buggin’ you guys? Your boss called me in to assist,” he commented, accent thickening in the presence of a fellow southerner. “I’ve completed my research into ritualistic homicide, figured I could be a bit of help.” He laughed at her big smile. “South Carolina can manage without me for a while.” Calleigh let go of him, her smile never faltering. “You gonna introduce me to your friends?” he commented, noticing the two men still waiting for the blond.

“Guys, this is Joseph Donahue, he’s a profiler.” Calleigh motioned him forward. “Joe, this is Eric and Ryan, my colleagues.” She watched with a smile as the men shook hands. “So, have you got the case files?”

“Right here,” he said, taping the case he carried. Calleigh nodded, gesturing they should continue down the hall.

“How’s Aimee?” she queried. It had been a long time since she last spoke to AJ, infact, his daughter had just been born when they had last met up. They’d known each other since before college, and time never seemed to pass between them.

“She’s great; just gone back with her mother,” he replied and Calleigh didn’t miss the flash of pain behind his blue orbs. She nodded anyway, waiting for them to gather around the glass table. “We’ll catch up later, okay?” he asked, sending her that sign that he didn’t want to discuss it right now. She gave him an understanding wink.

“So where’d you wanna start?”

 

Full Name: Charlotte Jackson-Baker

Nickname: Charleigh, C.J. to her best friend.

D.O.B: 30/06/78 (29)

Education: M.S. Ed., University of Miami, Counseling Psychology, Marriage and Family Therapy.

Job: Marriage, Relationship and Family Therapist, Florida - License # MT0000086

Interests: Cooking, reading, people watching, Johnny Depp

Favourite Music: Kelly Clarkson, Van Morrison, Bon Jovi

Favourite Movie: Finding Neverland

Favourite Book: Sons and Lovers, D.H. Lawrence

Favourite Food: Chilli Con Carne

Favourite Dessert: Tiramisu

Favourite Colour: Orange

Hair Colour: Brown

Eye Colour: Brown

Height: 5’6

Fandom: CSI Miami

Role on Show: Interested observer

Complete Family Tree: N/A

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Mini Bio:

Charlotte was adopted at birth and has never met her biological family. It was this that inspired her to become a family therapist; she has an innate desire to analyse relationships and what makes them work, as well as the bond between parents and children. And to form her own opinion on ‘nature versus nurture’.

She is confident, strong and independent, and has a tendency to come across as aloof. Despite this however, she is incredibly perceptive and compassionate. If someone needs her help she will do her utmost to ensure that they get it. She is loyal to a fault and is at times over-generous. Sometimes overbearing.

She has been in love with Johnny Depp since watching him in Chocolat.
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Introduction to fic:

Lattes were her favourite. You could customise everything about them. One could add vanilla, chocolate, caramel, cinnamon…

Drink them iced, get them in different colours – she’d tried a nice ‘red latte’ in South Africa once. And then of course the way in which it was served varied from establishment to establishment; in a glass on a saucer with a napkin, or sometimes in a bowl.

Here, it was the former.

Charlotte smiled and reached for the glass as the young barista set it down on her table. “Thank you,” she told him politely. He gave a gentle nod in response and whipped out his notepad, ready to take the order of a couple to her left.

She had been watching them for a little while now. They were mostly silent, only occasionally exchanging soft murmurs or indulging in some polite form of banter. What was interesting however, was the way that they looked at each other; with such intensity and longing that it made her a little concerned that they were about to spontaneously combust or give into their obviously unattended wild throws of passion right there on the coffee table.

The female seemed to be thinking it too, Charlotte noticed. It was the way her piercing green eyes always held the handsome Cuban’s gaze with that flicker; a playful, enticing one, but not without a hint of regret and warning.

And as Charlotte watched the barista approach their table, she couldn’t help but notice the difference in the way that the two people reacted to the sudden interruption.

The blonde immediately broke eye contact with the handsome Cuban - a little too quickly, Charlotte noticed - before then flashing an appreciative smile at said interruption. The man however, continued to stare at her for a moment and leant back into his chair with a wistful sigh, obviously not as happy as she was for the distraction.

“Can I get an espresso please?” the female murmured in a soft drawl.

Charlotte smiled. It suited her perfectly. Hot, strong and under high pressure.
Hot, because there was no denying that the woman was stunning. Strong, because she certainly had that element of control over whatever was going on between her and her companion. And under high pressure because that was clearly her current emotional state; trapped between reason and passion.

“Uh, I’ll have a cappuccino thank you,” Charlotte heard the male say.

Again, it was a perfect choice. Rich, dark and masking. Rich, because the man’s eyes were rich in emotion; obviously full of love. Dark, because he was Cuban. And masking because just like the sweet foam of a cappuccino masks the bitter taste of the coffee, the man's skin hid his innate bittersweet desires.

The barista exchanged a few polite words with the couple – well, mainly the female – the male was a little less enthusiastic. Instead he kept his gaze fixed on the blonde; wordlessly challenging her to stare back, willing her to take a step forwards...

And Charlotte grinned into her latte when the couple resumed their war of silence once the barista had gone. They were in classic denial; completely besotted with one another but either too proud or too scared to make a move. At a stalemate.

So as she took a final sip of her coffee and threw a couple of notes down on the table, Charlotte pulled out her card and a pen, and wrote a small note on the back. Then with a steely determination, she strode over to the two people who had been the objects of her attention for a good twenty minutes now.

The blonde eyed her curiously, merely raised an eyebrow and waited for an explanation. The Cuban sighed, a little frustrated. But Charlotte simply smiled and dropped her card down between them. Then with a polite nod, she went on her way.

Calleigh frowned after her and reached out for the card:

Charlotte Jackson-Baker
Marriage, Relationship and Family Therapist, Florida
License # MT0000086
Number: 555 684 5673
Address: 9380 Sunset Drive #B120, Miami, FL 33173
Office Hours: 9am – 6pm

“What is it?” she heard Eric ask.

“Some kind of business card,” she murmured back, lifting her eyes back to his. “For a therapist.”

He scoffed, as she knew he would, but she ignored him and flipped the card over, her gaze settling over the small message that had been written on the back.

Stop being so afraid. You both want it. Call me.

And despite herself, Calleigh laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Eric asked.

“I think she’s trying to tell us something,” she answered softly, a small smile coming to her mouth as the barista set her espresso down. And suddenly, she wasn’t so sure that she wanted it. Perhaps it was time for a change; a cute and fluffy frappe maybe…

 

Full Name: Gabriella Jamila Karam
Nickname: Gabby
Date of Birth: May 5, 1969 (39)
Role on the show: Medical Examiner
Education: Bachelor's degree from Clemson University, MD from the Leonard H Miller School of Medicine at the University of Miami
Complete family tree:
Paternal Grandparents - Adam (1927-present) and Jamila (1929-present) Karam
Maternal Grandparents - unknown
Father - Adrian Karam (1952-1969)
Mother - Peggy Cameron (1952-?)
No brothers or sisters
Interests: Puzzles of any kind. She's an entertainment junky, loves movies, gossip, and entertainment trivia.
Favorite music: Country (Tim McGraw and George Strait are her favorites) and she has a secret passion for oldies from the 60's and 70's.
Favorite movie: Oh to choose! Fried Green Tomatoes, The Shawshank Redemption, and all of M Night Shyamalan's movies except "Lady in the Water".
Favorite Food: Italian, especially with a good glass of wine
Favorite Color: lavendar
Mini Bio:
Gabriella Karam’s parents, Adrian Karam and Peggy Cameron, were seniors in high school when she was conceived. Shortly before she was born her father was killed in an automobile accident. Peggy, having never completed high school, worked part time jobs helping to support Gabriella, leaving her with the Karams to be babysat when she worked. When Gabriella was two, Peggy decided she needed a life, and after getting off work at the Dairy Queen she mopped floors at, she left town and never came back.

Adam and Jamila raised Gabriella from then on, with a lot of love, patience, and rules. Two of Gabriella’s passions she gained from her grandparents. Her love of puzzles she gained from Adam, as she would work puzzles with him daily...from newspaper crosswords and word jumbles, to jigsaw puzzles they would work on in the evenings. Gabby’s love of movies and entertainment trivia she learned from her grandmother, as the two would frequently take in movie matinees on Saturday mornings, while Adam took care of the yard work.

Adam Karam’s great grandparents emigrated from Lebanon, and both Adam and Jamila are of Lebanese descent. They ran a mortuary in downtown Charleston. While they worked on burying the dead, Gabriella was more intrigued with how the deceased died. Her love of puzzles fueled her interest in figuring out how people died, and was helped along by watching episodes of Quincy with her grandfather. Thus beginning her career as a doctor with a bent on becoming a medical examiner.

Gabriella stands 5’7”, has long curly dark hair and brown eyes. Her Lebanese descent has given her beautiful perpetually tanned olive colored skin. She tans darker easily in the summertime with little effort. Gabby is outgoing and an eternal optimist, always looking on the bright side of things, a trait she believes is important in her line of work. Her idea of a night out on the town is a good movie and dinner/drinks. At 39, she is single, never married but has one child, an 18 year old daughter (Annie) currently in her freshman year of college at her old alma mater, Clemson. At home she has two golden retriever dogs, Carter and Savannah, who are her world when Annie is at school. Her current boyfriend, Jack Wellington, runs a corner café/bookstore in Coral Gables.

*********************************************************
Late in the afternoon on her first day at work at the Miami-Dade Crime Lab, Gabriella Karam strolled into the breakroom of the Miami-Dade crime lab, part of the day’s newspaper under her arm, humming a tune as she made her way toward the coffee machine. She was a morning person and usually required caffeine mid-afternoon to get herself through the rest of the day. After fixing a cup just like she liked it she moved to sit down at the nearest table and opened the newspaper up to the puzzle page. She was intent on working the Sodoku puzzle while she enjoyed every warm drop of the aromatic brew before heading back downstairs to do the latest autopsy.

She sighed as she brought the cup to her lips, and smiled when a woman she hadn’t met yet walked through the door. She was delighted when the woman plopped down into the chair opposite her.

“You must be Gabriella Karam, the new ME,” the woman said. “My name’s Maxine Valera. Most people just call me Valera, but you can call me Max, Maxine, you know whatever you like.”

Gabby smiled, remembering what she’d learned earlier. “I am indeed the new ME. But you can call me Gabby, Maxine.”

“Have you heard the latest?” Maxine whispered excitedly, opening up the magazine she’d carried in with her.

“About what?”

“Brangelina!” Maxine declared as she indicated the cover story on the magazine, rolling her eyes as if Gabby should know exactly what she was talking about.

“Oh you mean how they’re having their babies in France? Or how they’re going to ask Billy Bob to be the babies’ Godfather?”

“The Billy Bob part, can you believe it! The nerve!” Valera was beside herself at the notion that Brad and Angelina would ask her ex-boyfriend to be a Godfather, but was clearly excited that she now appeared to have someone to talk gossip with.

“Maxine,” Gabby replied shaking her head. “You can’t believe everything you read about them. You’ve got to filter out the obvious lies and speculation from those magazines.”

Valera gave a very unladylike snort of derision, clearly not on the same page as Gabby. “I think it’s true, they’re just weird enough to do that.”

Gabby merely smiled and stifled a chuckle, wondering if Maxine knew how weird she could be. Probably not. She’d heard from Ryan Wolfe about how eccentric the DNA specialist was.

“Hey!” Valera exclaimed excitedly, lifting her eyes from the magazine. “We’re having a Girls Night Out tonight…me, Calleigh, and Natalia. Have you met them yet?” She didn’t stop to wait for an answer. “We’re going to take in a chick flick and then head somewhere for dinner and drinks, and a lot of man-watching. You married?”

“No, I’m not, and I would love to join y’all,” she replied, amusement in her eyes and tone. “I just have to let Jack know. He’s my boyfriend and we were going to order pizza and watch a video, but we can do that another night.”

“Boyfriend, huh? What’s he like?” Again she didn’t wait for an answer, she just kept on talking. “Calleigh’s got a boyfriend I think, she won’t say who it is. We’re going out tonight because she already has plans for tomorrow night.” A wicked gleam entered her eyes. “I wonder who she’s got plans with?”

“Well, I guess since you don’t know who her boyfriend is yet, who she has plans with is none of our business.”

“I think if we get a few glasses of wine in her tonight she’ll spill her guts.”

“Maxine!” Gabby looked up and smiled as Calleigh strolled through the doors.

“Hey there Gabby,” Calleigh called out as she made a beeline for the coffee pot. “I see you met the lab gossip.”

“Hey!” Maxine admonished with a laugh. Truthfully, she enjoyed her title as Lab Gossip.

“Maxine was just filling me in on the Girls Night Out you guys have planned for tonight.”

“You joining us?”

Gabby loved Calleigh’s accent, and having learned of her southern heritage upon meeting her earlier in the day, she felt a special kinship with her. She knew they’d become good friends. “Sure am, wouldn’t miss it! I just need to go home first to feed Carter and Savannah.”

“That’s no problem. We’re not meeting at the theater until 7:00 anyway.”

“Sounds great.” Gabby stood up. “Well I’d love to stay and chat, Ladies, but I’ve got a body waiting downstairs, and a Lieutenant that wants an answer on the cause of death ‘yesterday’ as he put it.”

“Best not to keep Horatio Caine waiting then,” Calleigh chuckled. “He might utter a corny one-liner at you.”

Gabby left the room to the sound of another unladylike snort from Valera.

 

CSI Critique Fanfiction #26: Exercise in character development

I tried to work on a whole new character for this, but it wouldn’t come together – probably because I’m in the middle of three other things at the moment, and my brain can’t cope with anything new! :wtf: So as it’s got to Saturday night already, I took the opportunity to go deeper into an existing OC that I’m still writing about.

Full Name: Elliot Frances Brook
Nickname: "L" (to her friends); Ella (but only her parents are allowed to call her that)
Date of Birth: 24 July 1993
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Role on the show: In my world! - daughter of Horatio Caine and former partner Eden Brook
Education: Miami Central High School (when she goes!)
Complete(ish!) family tree:
Paternal Grandparents:
• Caine (unnamed, both deceased 1977)
Maternal Grandparents:
• Francis Martin [Frank] Brook (b. June 6, 1947 in Ely, Nevada)
• Mary Teresa Farland (b. May 4, 1949 in Ely, Nevada; d. in car accident, February 6, 1979)
[Eloped to Las Vegas in 1966, aged 19 and 17]
Parents:
• Horatio Caine (b. April 7, 1960 in New York City)
• Eden Mary Brook (b. December 16, 1969 in Las Vegas, Nevada; d. October 19, 2000)
Interests: singing, reading, jigsaw puzzles
Favorite music: Paramore, Simple Plan, Green Day, Pendulum – turned up way too loud!
Favorite movie: Lots of them! For mystery and suspense: LA Confidential, Identity; for music: Moulin Rouge, Chicago
Favorite Food: Hot buttered toast, with a mug of tea.
Favorite Color: Purple


Mini Bio:
Born in Rochester, New York. At age 2 moved back to New York City. Following a brief and violent marriage and acrimonious divorce, her drunken stepfather attacks Elliot and her mother, putting them both in hospital. At age 7, Elliot’s mother is diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour and dies five months later. Elliot is placed in the care of her stepfather, who remarries and fathers a son, Jamie. At age 11 the family moves to Miami. Elliot uses some newspaper cuttings her mom collected, plus a collection of her own, to track down Horatio, who knows nothing about her existence. She follows him a few times, but hasn’t got the nerve to go talk with him. When her stepfather murders his wife and son, Elliot and Horatio are brought together (aaahh!!!)

Usually to be seen wearing jeans, a purple shirt, and sneakers. Has inherited her father’s blue eyes and her mom’s talent for singing. Enjoys playing video games – and takes great pleasure in beating her cousin Ray Jr.! Favourite class in school: history; least favourite: science.


One written page about their introduction to your fandom of choice. Call it a mini-fic: (Sorry if you've read this already - the story was critiqued here a while ago.)

The patrol car pulled up outside the Crime Lab. A police officer got out, opened the back door, and helped the girl out of the car. Frank spoke briefly with the officer, and then led Elliot up the steps and into the building. She never looked up, never saw Horatio standing there watching from inside the building. Horatio had asked Calleigh and Frank to conduct the interview while he watched from the observation room. If they thought this odd, neither had given any indication. The girl was looking for him, and he wasn’t sure what she would do when she found him. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he would do, for that matter. Let’s just find out what happened yesterday first, before... before what? Horatio wasn’t used to this feeling of uncertainty, and he didn’t like it at all. But he had to admit, to himself at least, that he just didn’t know what to do right now, so he was keeping out of the way until he figured it out.

The girl, small and slender for her thirteen years, sat cross legged on a chair in the interview room. Her face was drawn and pale, apart from some dark bruising around her right eye and on her cheek. Her long hair hung loose down her back, and her clothes – jeans, sneakers, and a purple shirt and jacket – were dirty.

Calleigh and Tripp sat across the table from the girl, and Calleigh began the questioning.

“Elliot, you know that two people died in your house yesterday morning. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I don’t know how they died.” Her voice was quiet but steady.

“We know you were there. Your neighbor saw you. Why don’t you tell us what you saw?

Elliot sighed deeply and looked away, out the window. There was a long pause before she spoke again.

“I came home about 7.30 to get some things for school.”

“Home from where?”

She ignored Frank’s question.

“I was getting some things from my room when Eddie came in.”

“Eddie Parker – your father?”

Elliot looked at Frank. “Stepfather. I thought he was at work, but...”

“Did you see Donna, or Jamie?” Tripp asked.

Elliot frowned. “No.”

Calleigh prompted her. “So what happened when Eddie came in?”

“He didn’t like me being there. He told me to get out. He erm...” She indicated her bruised face. “He hit me, started... pushing me around, you know, out of the house. I grabbed the lamp from the hall table and...”

Elliot uncrossed her legs and sat forward, leaning on the table, and resting her head on her hand. “I just ran out when I saw the blood. I thought I killed him.”

“Would you please take off your jacket, Elliot?” Calleigh asked gently.

Elliot stood up and slipped off her jacket. There were purple bruises on her upper arms, caused by strong hands holding her very tightly, and her left wrist looked swollen and bruised, where someone had grabbed her and held on with some force. There was a moment’s silence. Frank looked away, and Calleigh sighed. Then Elliot seemed to sway slightly on her feet; she sat down again quickly.

“Are you OK? Are you hurt anywhere else?” Calleigh asked, as Frank passed her a cup of water. Elliot picked up the cup and took a couple of sips. Calleigh was worried about her; she seemed way too calm, almost in a daze, detached from the situation. She gave the girl a few moments before she continued.

“So, yesterday morning, you didn’t see Donna or Jamie at all while you were at the house?”

She shook her head. “No. I headed right out the back door. I didn’t know they were... until I saw them... then you told me.” She looked up at Calleigh, and there were tears in her eyes. “I... I didn’t kill them.”

“Then why’d you run when my officers saw you?” Frank asked bluntly.

“I guess... I thought it was Eddie. I thought... I dunno, maybe I killed him. Then when I saw the two of them...”

Calleigh spoke gently to the girl. “We know you didn’t kill Donna and Jamie. The evidence suggests that Eddie killed them both. What we need to know is, why would he do that?”

Horatio was watching the girl closely as he listened to the interview through the glass which separated them. He was just as interested in what she wasn’t telling them right now, but he watched and listened as Calleigh carefully teased out more information from the girl, slowly and painstakingly building up a picture of what had been going on in this child’s home, this child’s life.

Eddie had thrown her out of the house three months ago, not for the first time, but she had been coming back while he was out at work to take a shower, change her clothes, and pick up the things she needed for school. She wouldn’t say where she had been staying for those months.

“What were you doing breaking into a warehouse this morning?” Tripp asked.

“I didn’t.”

“The security guard saw you!”

“I broke in last night.”

Horatio couldn’t help smiling to himself. At least the girl was honest!

She continued, “I needed somewhere to sleep out of the rain. He caught me as I was leaving.”

Frank spoke again. “We found your backpack at the house. Pyjamas, washbag, and a wad of cash? Looks like you were packing more than a few things for school.”

Elliot sighed. “I was there a couple of days ago, OK? Eddie got home from work early. I just got out the back door as he came in. Then Donna called me later, said that Eddie found out I’d been coming back, and that she’d been helping me out. Today I was going to... I was taking my stuff and leaving. I didn’t want Donna getting in trouble.”

“Where were you going to go?”

Elliot shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know. Anywhere but there.”

“We know you and Eddie fought a lot. About what?”

The girl sighed and shrugged her shoulders again. “Anything. Everything, I guess.”

“Why did he throw you out?”

Elliot stared down at her hands around the cup on the table in front of her. Finally, after a long pause, she said quietly, simply, “I wouldn’t... do what he told me.”

Horatio knew she was hiding something; there was more to this than she was letting on. Everything the girl had said, and the bruises she had on her, confirmed not only her story, but also what the evidence they had found at the house was telling them. Horatio was glad of that. She had been through a lot at the hands of her stepfather. Her jacket sleeve was torn at the shoulder, and a button was missing from her shirt. He wondered what else had been going on that she clearly wasn’t telling them about. Exactly what had Eddie wanted her to do that she had refused? He was good for assault and murder; what else had he done, or tried to do, to this girl?

Tripp was asking more questions. He pulled some papers out and laid them on the table in front of the girl. The newspaper cuttings from the shoebox. Horatio had put them back with the other evidence, and Frank had got hold of them. Damn! That was the last thing Horatio wanted; this was nothing to do with the murders. This could have waited until later, until he could deal with it himself.

“What are these?” Elliot was asking, looking at the top two or three pieces. She suddenly realised what it was she was looking at. She flushed pink, and glared at Frank. She wasn’t so calm now.

He answered her, “We found them in a box, stuffed into the bag you were packing.”

“You went through my things?” she asked, angrily. “You’ve got no right to take my things...”

“We got every right! We’re carrying out a murder investigation.”

“This is nothing to do with that. These are my own things, and you can’t just...”

“What I want to know is, why you’ve got newspaper cuttings of a Miami Dade police officer?”

The door opened and Horatio entered. Elliot was still glaring at Tripp, and it took a moment for her to look around. At sight of Horatio all the color seemed to drain from her face. She looked back at the cuttings on the table, and began moving them around nervously on the pretence of looking at them.

“I erm... I don’t know what these are.” She spoke quietly again. “Maybe... maybe someone else put them in my bag, after I left?”

Tripp snorted in disbelief. “Sure they did! In that case, what I want to know is, why did they put photos of you in there as well?”

No answer. She lifted a hand and rubbed her forehead, and looked at Tripp, then Calleigh... then she looked at Horatio. He hadn’t said a word. He was still standing just inside the interview room door, hands resting on his hips, watching her.

Elliot stood up and walked over to the window. For a few moments she stood there, looking out, her arms folded, hugging herself tight as if she was somehow trying to hold herself together. The silence in the room was almost tangible.

“I... I don’t know. I can’t tell you. And it... it doesn’t matter any more,” she whispered.

Suddenly, she swayed unsteadily again, and turned back to the room, needing to sit down again. As she turned, her legs seemed to give way under her, and she collapsed to the floor. Horatio was the first one to reach her. He checked her pulse and her breathing; both were erratic. She felt hot and clammy to the touch, although her skin was deathly pale. Blood was beginning to trickle from a fresh cut on her forehead. Horatio took off his jacket and folded it, placing it underneath her head, and held a clean handkerchief to the cut on her head. Calleigh knelt on the other side of her, as Frank called for a paramedic on his cell phone.

A few moments later, Elliot stirred and opened her eyes. She found herself looking right up into Horatio’s face, her blue eyes mirroring his own. She looked away as she tried to get up. “I have to go. Please, just let me go. You can’t keep me here, I didn’t do anything.”

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. After all, she had broken a lamp over Eddie’s head, admittedly in self-defence, and then run from the crime scene. Besides, where on earth would she go?

Horatio spoke to her quietly. “Elliot, sweetheart, you fainted and hit your head. You need to lie still right now.”

He needn’t have worried. It was clear the girl was going nowhere. She didn’t have the strength to get up, and she was just too dizzy.

“Just lie still.”

As Horatio wiped more blood from her head, the girl reached up her hand, and tried to take the bloody handkerchief from him. She knew who he was, and what he did for a living; she knew all too well what he was going to do with this handkerchief. He folded it carefully and put it in his pocket without a word.

“No,” she said quietly as her eyes filled with tears, which overflowed and dropped onto his jacket. “Please don’t do this.”

---
Leni