Chapter Seven: A Simple Solution?

She couldn't see where she was going; doing her best to keep Greg in her line of sight, trusting that he could navigate through the twisted maze of trees and rocks, darting from one side to the next. Her body still ached from where she had fallen, but she ignored the pain for now, dodging to the right as Greg did so in front of her. The gunfire had long ago died down, but like Greg, she didn't want to stop. Not until she was certain they were out of sight, out of danger.

She nearly ran into him as he came to a sudden stop, dodging to the side and around him. "What are you doing?"

"I can't breathe," Greg complained, hunched over now, his hands on his knees. He drew in a few ragged breaths, trying to make her out in the darkness. "Besides…I think, we lost him."

"You lost him?" Sara questioned, looking around, "Or you lost us?"

"Don't start," Greg warned, easing himself down against a tree with an uneasy breath.

"Nice plan," Sara grumbled, taking a look around. There wasn't much to see in the darkness, and being unprepared as this left her feeling a little anxious.

"We're alive, aren't we?"

"For now," Sara pointed out grumpily, already pacing the area cautiously. "What's your next plan?"

"We wait until morning," Greg said quietly. "When we can see what we are doing, we head back out. Our officer friend will be gone by then, most likely halfway across the country."

"So, what if we can't find our way out? What if he's still waiting for us?" Sara started, only to be cut off by Greg.

"And what if we're suddenly attacked by flesh-eating birds?" Greg responded sarcastically. "I don't know Sara; I'm sort of running blind here. I didn't exactly have time to plan for any of this."

"You know," Sara crossed her arms, her voice growing cold. "We wouldn't be in his mess if you hadn't dropped that gun."

"He had a gun to your head Sara," Greg defended himself, fingers pressed against his temples as he fought a rising headache.

"He wouldn't have shot me, not if you had that gun."

"I hate guns Sara!" Greg snapped. "You know that, you've known it for years. Why the hell do you think I don't carry one? You think I enjoy having no defense, no weapon of any kind?"

"You have to stop it then," Sara met his own anger, matching it easily. "You can't always be afraid. If you had a gun then we could have had this guy. Why can't you understand that?"

"Why are you trying to blame this entire mess on me?" Greg wondered, pushing himself to his feet. "Am I the one who pulled the gun out? Am I the one who was making all the threats?"

"Don't change the story," she snapped, frowning as he came up to her.

With a sigh Greg pulled his sleeve up, pressing it against her open wound on her cheek, holding her still with his other hand. She tensed up; trying to pull away but he held her there, doing the best to stop the flow of blood.

"That hurts," she complained bitterly, tilting her head to the side as she tried to pull out of his grasp.

"Relax," Greg resisted the urge to roll his eyes, although in the darkness Sara probably wouldn't even see anyways. "I'm not killing you."

She let out a breath, closing her eyes. For once it was silent around them, their earlier emotions already draining away. Greg shifted uncomfortably, trying to wipe her face clean, uncertain if he had actually helped or not.

"You're lucky," he told her quietly. "That bullet was meant for you."

"Yeah…" Sara agreed in the same fashion, pulling back when Greg let her go. Her hand wandered up to her face, pressing against the still bleeding wound. She hadn't even known she was hurt.

He let out a sigh, "Look, it's just stupid to stand here and fight, it's not going to solve any of our problems. We ran all the way out here, and most likely left a mess on the way. When it gets light out we should be able to track our way back easily enough."

"Okay, so let's say he's still waiting for us up there?" Sara wondered, "We're unarmed, not to mention in a completely different state. We don't know who this guy is, or who he even is working for."

Greg nodded, "He said it wasn't us in particular, just someone from our area…"

"Which could mean anything," Sara pointed out, sitting down. The ground was cold; damp from a previous drizzle. "We should try to get some rest," she let out a yawn, wishing now that they had their hotel room…maybe even their car. Anything was better than this…

"It's not safe for both of to go to sleep," Greg stated, glancing towards her. "You go ahead, I'll stay awake."

"Are you sure?" Sara wondered, already knowing the little sleep he had before.

"I'm not tired."

It was the last response she expected, but before she could argue she stopped herself, remembering how defensive he had gotten the last time. All they needed now was something new to fight over. Besides, she was longing for her other four hours of sleep she had missed out on earlier, thanks to certain someone. The same someone who was offering to stay awake so she could go to sleep.

With a reluctant sigh she leaned back against the trunk of a tree, pulling off her gloves with a frown. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but it would have to do for now. She crumbled the gloves into a ball, before letting her hands rest on her knees. She was starting to agree with Greg…coming out here had been a bad idea.

Things couldn't have gone worse, not even if he intentionally sabotaged his own agenda. Exactly what else could go wrong tonight?

Mckinely let out a frustrated groan, his fingers running through his short-cropped hair. What was he going to do now? He should have pulled the trigger when he had the chance. Sure, it would have risked his one life, but at least the job would be done and over with. And an injury would only further convince the others that he was telling the truth.

His phone rang, the sudden shrillness splitting the silence. Cursing softly he pulled it out, grimacing as he checked the caller ID. There really hadn't been a need to; he already knew who would be calling. Still, he had been hoping against all odds that he was wrong.

"Is it finished?" the sharp tone asked, the same one he was quickly starting to loathe.

"Not really…there's been a change of plans."

"Exactly what do you mean?" the voice wondered, the icy tone sending shivers down Mckinely's spine.

"Well…sir, they uh…they got away," he stammered, pulling the phone away from his ear as an outburst of vibrant choice words flooded the air. The ranting and raving continued for several long minutes, and Mckinely waited until it had quieted before assuring himself that it was safe to bring the phone back.

"I'll take care of it," he replied quietly, trying to convince himself in the process.

"You will," the voice warned, "If there are any more mistakes…"

"I know," Mckinely cut in, neither wanting, nor needing for the other to finish the statement. "What about my money?"

He was daring enough to try. He already knew what the probably answer would be, yet he felt it was his right to argue. After all, half the deed had already been done.

"When, and if, you finish. Remember, it's your ass on the line. Make sure they are dead."

The silence was just as eerie as the voice had been, if not even worse. Mckinely was starting to regret going along with the outrageous plan. To make matters worse he was expected back at the station in only a few hours. What if he couldn't find the pair before then? Surely the crime lab wouldn't wait to raise an alarm, and if they were found…

He closed his eyes, gripping the gun once more. They wouldn't be found, he quietly reminded himself. At least not alive…

"What do you mean an accident?" Catherine demanded, following her supervisor around the corner. "Like car accident…an accident with the case…the people at the lab?"

"I'm not sure," Grissom responded, entering his office. There were mounds of paperwork stacked on his desk, and although this would be the perfect opportunity to dismiss himself from it, he was needed in court in just a few days. There was no way he could miss that.

"Ecklie received a call from the crime lab up in Oregon stating that they needed a supervisor to come up because of an incident. They won't say anything else."

"And you called me in on my night off because…?"

"Because you're going," Grissom offered up, pulling the first stack off his desk with a heavy sigh.

"I'm going?" she asked, startled. "Why am I going? Grissom, I'm supposed to be on vacation starting tomorrow. You can't send me on some escapade now. I'm not even a supervisor, and you said it yourself, they need a supervisor."

"Well," Grissom nodded to her, "Consider yourself promoted for the next few days while you work things out."

"And what exactly are you going to do?" she wondered, frowning as she rested against the back of the chair. There was a bit of apprehension in her voice, but it matched the same anxiety that he felt. Surely if there was a real problem they would have informed Ecklie of it. But the fact they wouldn't clarify threw that notion out the window.

"The Purhon's case is on trial; Warrick and I have to testify. I thought you knew that."

"I conveniently forgot," Catherine remarked sarcastically. If she remembered, why would she even be asking?

"Ecklie was able to get a small charter plane to take you up there; Nick's going along as well. I'm not sure how long you'll be up there, but you may want to take some essentials along with you. And don't be late," Grissom reminded her sternly. "Ecklie's having a fit over it, and the pilot charges per hour."

"Ecklie, upset?" Catherine wondered, "Well I'd never thought I'd see that day. I will tell you one thing though," she stated, moving to stand, "If this is just some prank Greg and Sara are trying to pull, they will regret it."

"I'm sort of hoping that's all it is," he responded with a low sigh. Yet somehow, knowing the pair, he was worried that it was much more than that, and he was anxious to avoid the next few days that would come.

TBC