AN: Allrighty then. I started this way back but then completely lost the urge to finish it. BUT I have reworked the earlier chapters because they were crap and given them new viewpoints and more detail, and I now have a clear outline of where this is going.

I stand with my back to the wall, leaning against it gently. I glance up to Valera who is working on her samples. I am sure she is deliberately looking anywhere but at me. I sigh, ever since it has been discovered I'd been working for the Feds, nobody would talk to me. I can't blame them, I had betrayed their trust. But in my defense, I only supplied the Feds with positive information, in some respects I had been a support to the lab. But people had listened to the gossip, that I'd slept with Eric for dirt on the lab and they didn't care about the facts.

The FBI were looking into the lab for mishandling evidence, but my reports had only informed then of the lab's triumphs, my research had nothing to do with the full blown investigation. That was local tip. I sigh again, it's getting to the point where I don't care what had happened, I just wish people would accept me again. Calleigh is the only one really talking to me, and even then, our conversations remain strictly professional. Still, it's nice to have a friend. This place can get worse that high school.

"Here," Valera states coldly, knocking me out of my thoughts. She hands me the report in a manila envelope, turns, and returns to work.

"Thanks Valera." I say with a smile that goes unnoticed, or unacknowledged. I take the file and walk out of the DNA lab, passing by the front desk. "Hey," I smile at the woman at reception, I figure she can't know too much because she actually smiles back.

"Hey, Natalia, will you do me a favor? This came for Calleigh, but I can't find her. Will you give it to her, please?" she asks, smiling brightly. Yep, doesn't know.

"Sure, don't worry about it." I take the file, and set off towards ballistics.

I find her on the main corridor, lost in thought. I switch arms, moving my heavy binder to my right side and holding the envelope out with my left. "Calleigh, this came for you," I hand her the letter, "Reception was holding it, I said I'd drop it off."

"You didn't have to do that," she smiles, evidently touched at my gesture.

"It's all right; I needed to speak to you about the Heartfield case anyway." I reach round and shake a file in front of me. "I know you were into the dad for this, but DNA's out, he's innocent of everything 'cept a DUI four years ago."

"Dammit," Calleigh says, sounding disappointed. I know she is sure Mark Heartfield killed his daughter, all evidence except forensics point to him. "Did CODIS get any hits?"

"Better," I smile, "DNA was male, and had several markers in common with the girl."

"Bother?" Calleigh questions, I see her widen her eyes. Kids killing kids is unsettling, but, chillingly, not uncommon. I shrug at her question, considering the possibility. "But then, kids get into it all the time, nothing to prove it was from the attack."

"True," I agree, not quite sure how to help, "Look, let me know if you find more evidence, bring it in and I'll put a rush on it," I offer, earning a smile in response.

"Thanks,"

I turn, intent on returning to my lab and thinking up more ways to get Valera to talk to me when Calleigh's startled voice calls me back.

"Natalia?" He voice is high; fear is evident across her features. It's not an emotion I am used to seeing on the blondes face and it unsettled me greatly.

"What is it?" I ask, moving closer, concern grating on my voice box.

She clutches the letter close to her, griping with white knuckles, "Who gave this in?"

"I-I don't know, Cal. Reception just--" I am cut off by Calleigh's departure, "Where are you going?"

I follow quickly, bloody pumping between my ears. I arrive to see Calleigh chattering nervously as she tries to pry information out of the woman behind the desk.

"--need you to think, Claudia. What did he look like?" She was pressing hard, taking deep breaths to control herself.

"Oh, I don't - I don't know. He was-- he was tall, dark hair. Oh! A red cross on his right hand near his knuckle," She looked excited for a moment, but caught Calleigh's expression and went back to remembering, "Erm, I'm not sure Calleigh. So many people come though -"

"It's okay," Calleigh responds softly before retracting her hands from the surface of the desk and returning to the direction of her lab.

I can't let this go.

"Calleigh. Calleigh! Wait." I call, grabbing the blonds arm and spinning her round. I worry when I see fear in her eyes. "What's going on?"

She glances at me momentarily, eyes flickering between mine. When she speaks, her words are so quiet; I have to strain to hear. "You can't be involved in this."

"I think I already am."

She shakes her head silently, urging me to back down. I won't. She considers me a moment longer, before closing her eyes and handing me the letter, followed by a glove. I pull it on; wincing at the latex rubs my sensitive skin. Pulling at the open end of the letter, I extract the contents. What I see, nearly floors me.

Blood. Everywhere. Thick red puddles pooled on the floor, swipes across the walls, patterns made out of the cruellest of inks. What chills me most is the writing across the top of the picture, in thick black marker: 'You're dead bitch'.

"My God, Calleigh." I whisper, shock trumping my fear, "Who is this guy?"

"Terry Western, I put him away for murdering 10 women in half as many months. He- He went on the run for 7 years killing 11 more that- that we know of as he travelled the country. He'd torture them, rape and then strangle them. After, he'd cut their bodies open and play in their blood. When I arrested him he told me he wanted to play with mine." Calleigh shudders at the memory, her speech curiously quick paced, as though she doesn't want to commit to the memory.

"How long did he get? He wasn't executed?" That shocks me; Florida had the death penalty for reasons like this.

"He pleaded insanity, incarcerated in a psych ward for the criminally insane. Took us seven years to find him. He was good, a former CSI in fact."

"Really? What happened?"

"He lost his wife in a shoot out whilst he was investigating a gang for drug trafficking. He had already been suffering because of his inability to have a child and when his wife died, he just lost it. Started screaming at her casket at the funeral, said it was her fault. Psych report said a breakdown." Calleigh informs me.

"So this guys still dangerous?" I ask, sounding foolish, but I need to know.

"Oh, yeah," is Calleigh's reply.