<div align="center">(http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff182/barnbean/001small.jpg) (http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff182/barnbean/002small.jpg)</div><br/>Doctor Noah Grayson loved his work. It was cliche, it was silly, and many people didn't understand it. But he was one of those people who actually loved getting up and going to work in the morning. As a kid he had always dreamt of becoming a doctor. To grow up and to help people. To find out the cause of diseases and to get someone healthy if they had it. And of course as a kid he thought having a stethoscope would be pretty darn cool. As a teen the idea of a prescription pad at his disposal had seemed fun. And now? Well he definitely wasn't where he had planned to be.<br/><br/>A medical examiner was not where he had thought he would end up. He was a doctor of course. He had all the training of his colleagues who went into pediatrics and surgical rotations. Except he had something else which they didn't have. Training in forensic sciences. Hardly what he was thinking of though. It was a knack to look beyond the obvious and to find out things others might miss. It was the ability to dig into a mystery and see it through to the end. It was the patience to keep looking even when obvious answers refused to show up.<br/><br/>He had switched from the world of life saving medicine to... well to working with the dead. It sounded macabre put like that. Was there really any other way to say it though? He worked with the dead. He investigated the dead. He did the things that the police and the district attorneys and the crime scene guys couldn't do. He checked out the body, he found the hidden mysteries. And most of all he spoke for the dead. Their last line of defense in a world ready to bury them away like yesterday's news, or Monday's garbage.<br/><br/>Noah zipped shut the bag that held the latest victim to arrive in his lab and pulled off his gloves. With his foot he stepped on the hatch to the small waste container and dropped them inside when the lid popped open. He pulled his foot off and it shut with a loud clang that rang throughout the room. Noah had the presence of mind to look around apologetically, and that's when he saw the two men. Not medical examiners. Definitely not grieving loved ones looking to see the deceased. If he had to guess it would have been detectives. Though they hardly made a flattering pair, at least not in the police match up sense. As a pair they did have something about them... something that would look good in bed, covered only by a sheet... the room filled with the scent of sweat....<br/><br/>Noah shook his head and cleared his throat. Not the time or the place for that kind of thinking! He grinned at himself and his overactive mind. Many would have never had such thoughts in the morgue, but when you worked there, you got used to it, it became home, and you stopped just seeing it as a place where dead bodies were stored.<br/><br/>His smile widened as he realized he had at least been half right. One was a cop. The other a district attorney. It seemed the latest body had already attracted the interest of everyone involved in seeing justice served for those guilty of murder. And yes, Noah already suspected foul play when it came to Alfred Swanson, but suspicion was for the police and attorneys. He dealt in facts.<br/><br/>"Doctor Noah Grayson, pleasure to meet you both... though not under such circumstances, death hardly makes for grand pleasantries," Noah extended his hand for... well either of them to shake. The attorney was showing his badge, so Noah glanced at it and nodded that it was in order. The cop was... chewing gum... Noah shook his head and stepped on the trash cans lid again. "Gum in the trash, this is a clean facility, lord knows the last thing I need is to explain why the victim arrived here clean but left with chewing gum in his hair..."