Chapter One

Thump.

The tennis ball hit the back of Hodge's bedroom wall for about the five hundredth time since he returned home from his shift two hours ago. Slouched in his office chair, feet resting on a stack of board game boxes, the trace tech replayed the splendid disaster that made up his "thought experiment" with his colleagues. Out of the major disasters this past century, Hodges likened this day to the Titanic's singular outing; it started out alright, everyone enjoying the ride- that is, until the HRMS Lab Rats slammed into the iceberg that formed out of Hodges' indiscretion. For about five whole hours at work, David Hodges was tolerated, dare he say popular at the crime lab. Even Wendy was impressed-an unexpected victory- until she read the bottom of the Mindy Bimms figurine and gave him the most unforgettable, incredulous stare. It was about that moment that Hodges heard the horrific screech of HRMS Lab Rats against his iceberg of a mistake. Her eyes fell and everything for the rest of shift crumbled, despite Grissom's interest in his game.

Phwop.

Catching the ball in his aching palm, he gripped it tightly, almost fiercely at the umpteenth review of his day. He sent it back to the undeserving wall with the added velocity at his self-directed displeasure. Goddamnit. David couldn't even focus on the rare gem of praise that his boss had afforded him; he had screwed himself over so badly. Returning to its sender with near-equal speed, Hodges felt his skin smart on contact with the ball's fuzzy green fibers. Holding the tennis ball up to his temple, Hodges exhaled, puffing out his cheeks and deflating them with the whole fluid motion ending in a pout, leaving the scientist looking like some crumpled modern Thinking Man.

Closing his slate-gray eyes, David rubbed the ball into his skull in the silent attempt to erase the day. The silent kneading of his cranium didn't last more than thirty seconds when he heard the door open and close loudly. Great, Mom's home. He needed to think, to be quiet and now that hope was going to be deleted very swiftly. I need to move out of here someday soon.

"Davey, I'm home! Could you help me with the groceries?" There was a clattering of bags being placed down, shelves opening, closing, and opening again. "Davey?"

The bedroom door cracked, and then opened fully as Mrs. Carol Hodges leaned on the door jam, almost imperceptibly. She crossed her arms and raised the eyebrows of the grey eyes she had passed on to him. Boring her eyes into the side of his head, it appeared as if she was trying to analyze the unsettled contents inside. Hodges remained perfectly still, hoping "If I play dead, she might go away." Unfortunately this method worked only with bears and after a while, she asked "Can I take a guess?"

Hodges turned his head to the right, looking around the tennis ball that was practically glued to his face.

"Mom, you deal cards at the Tangiers, and this is your house. I'd say you have an unfair advantage, but go ahead," he drawled.

"You really upset her this time, didn't you? Considering the mess of the prototype you left in the kitchen, I'd guess Wendy found Mindy. Mhm?"

"Brilliant deduction, Mom. You could replace Sanders."

"Hey, hey, don't give me attitude. I'm just trying to help. Besides, I deal best with people who are alive. You work the graveyard shift for a reason."

"You're saying I have people problems?" He said calmly, swinging the chair around to look his mother in the face.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Or at least problems communicating your affections to any woman you could possibly have any romantic interest in."

"And you know that how?" As if she could possibly answer that.

"I'm your mother, brainiac. I've been around for a lot of this," she smiled coyly, ignoring his attitude. "Now come on and help me put the food away."

Hodges sighed and followed his tiny mother who, even with her magnificent bouffant hair do, only reached his chin. Reaching the kitchen, he started pulling food out of bags without regard for what they were, placing them on the counter in a mismatched fashion, unlike the usual groups he normally did. Mrs. Hodges stopped his distracted motions when he started putting cereal in the freezer instead of ice cream, which he had put in the dry foods cabinet.

"Okay, David, I got it. Nevermind the groceries. So, tell me, what exactly did happen?" she asked, barely looking up from what she was doing (switching the foods he had put in the wrong cabinets).

He relayed the entire doomed "experiment" in a couple of minutes, including Wendy's tirade, word-for-word and Grissom's grain of interest in his project. After washing her hands in the sink and wiping them on a towel, she looked up at him saying "So, what are you going to do about it?" He leaned up against the refrigerator, resting the back of his head on its cool surface, settling his eyes on the ceiling before bringing them down to his mother.

"I don't know yet." He muttered.

"Well, you better figure it out. You can't avoid her simply because she's pissed beyond belief at you- I mean you really did insult her intelligence- but also because you've got quite the crush on her. So make it better, apologize."

"Mom, have you ever tried to loose a bear from a bear trap? Because I have a feeling that this is how it's going to be if I get anywhere near her."

"Well then, how would you go about setting this 'bear' of a problem free?" his mother questioned. I really hope he can follow his own analogies.

"Tranquilize it, make it calm so you can do what needs to be done. Then you get the hell out of Dodge because it's still a bear," he replied, biting his lip as he considered the possibility of subduing a raging Wendy with a dart. No, stealing drugs from the evidence locker was illegal.

"Sounds about right, except for the running away part. Don't do that. And with that said, my dear, it looks like my help here is done. You know her, figure out how to calm her down." Walking around him, she took an issue of Harper's Bazaar off the counter and sat her sixty-eight year old frame on the leather couch. David leaned back against the fridge again, wondering how he was going to figure this out. "No chance on you giving me anymore insight into the female mind, Ma?" he shouted from the kitchen as he returned back to his room, swiping up the pieces to his board game as he went.

"David, it's been about thirty years since I've helped you with homework. This one's yours-good luck!" she responded, grinning as she flipped the pages of her magazine.