A/N: Hey everyone! Okay, you wanted faster updates? Well here you go; hopefully this will get you off my backs for a while, sheesh. There's a wee bit more swearing in this one than in the other chapters, so I'm upping the rating to M just to be safe. I hope you all enjoy it, and thanks so much in advance for reading. (and commenting, if you decide to do so, which you should!!) Love you all,

-Solomynne

Disclaimer: just borrowing.

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Death is not the worst that can happen to men.

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"Soon."

I repeated the word for the fiftieth time, as if in saying it enough I could somehow uncover the dark, hidden meanings behind it. "Soon," I said again. The word clanked off my tongue thickly. It had lost all meaning, the way anything does if you look at it closely enough: a word, a feeling, a blade of grass.

I eyed the brown wrapping that the package had come in, my fake name scrawled across the front. It occurred to me that there was no address, no stamp, meaning that it had to have been hand delivered. How had Matt gotten past the feds that were most definitely watching his house? Surely they wouldn't have let him approach me again. Unless maybe they were hoping he would try something, and thus give them more leverage later.

I became vaguely aware of someone saying my name, and it took me a moment to realize it was Grissom. I looked up across the table and saw him staring at me, his face etched with concern. It made me wonder how long he'd been calling me for. "Uh-huh?" I responded dazedly.

"You alright over there?" he asked. He had print powder on his face; it was everywhere, my nose and eyes burning with it. We'd printed every surface of the box and the package that it came in, nothing. Not that we needed to make a match anyway, we knew who it was from, but if we were going to nail Matt to the wall we were going to have to have more to go on than a pair of my underwear.

"I'm fine," I replied dismissively, flashing him a weak smile before returning my attention to the note in my hands. I heard the sound of a chair screeching on linoleum, and suddenly the death threat was being gently pried from my fingers. "Hey!" I protested.

Grissom put a hand out to indicate silence. "Listen. I want you to go outside for a minute and get some fresh air; it's not healthy for you when you get like this."

"Like what?" I asked, challenging him.

"Obsessive."

Oh.

"I know the warning signs with you. Now please, stand out on the deck, just for a moment; clear your head, okay?"

"I said I'm fine."

He sighed and sat down next to me. "Don't try that with me, I know you too well. I happen to be fluent in Sara-Sidle-speak, and I know that when you say 'I'm fine' that translates into modern English as: 'I'm not fine at all, but I'm going to pretend to be until I either blow up or burn out."

I gaped at him. Wow. He's good.

"So, please? Humor me?" He stood and lifted me by the elbow, guiding me with a hand against the small of my back. We stepped out onto the deck and I had to admit I instantly felt a little better. "There," he said soothingly, "now I want you to just close your eyes and forget about all of this okay? Let it melt away. Be calm, clear your head and I guarantee you'll be happy you did."

I eyed him for a moment wearily and then obeyed, closing my eyes against the afternoon sun. The light filtered through my eyelids, enabling me to see every single capillary winding its way across my vision, like red, glowing lace. The sun was warm on my face, the air still and sweet. I could hear children playing a few yards over, their laughter making me smile. Without a thought I slipped my hand into Grissom's, who had been standing silently next to me like a guard. He squeezed my fingers reassuringly, and I felt my throat tighten. I didn't want the moment to end.

I wanted it to be like this forever, the two of us standing on a sunny deck, hand in hand, no cares or obligations. I turned into him, burying my face in the soft skin of his neck, and relaxed against him as he put his arms around me tightly.

"It's okay," I heard him whisper in my ear. "Everything's going to be okay Sara."

Tears welled up in my eyes and I hugged him tighter, trying to block out the fear that was building in my heart. It was hard; knowing and not knowing. I knew that Matt was going to come for me, but when, or what he would do once he did was as uncertain as what was happening between Grissom and I. I clenched my teeth against a sob and prayed that the feds would nab him before he nabbed me.

I felt Grissom plant a chaste kiss on my head, just above my left ear. I pulled out of his tight grip and looked him in his deep blue eyes. The feelings he had for me were written as clear as day across the map of his face. I wished he could voice them for once. We had crossed a line during our time together, something I hoped he wouldn't try to back out of later. We had allowed the clever disguise of our make-believe marriage to let us be honest for once. Honesty; masquerading as game of pretend. This would all be so much easier if at least one of the two of us was any good at expressing emotion, or having healthy relationships.

Still, the thought that soon all of this would be over sent a pang of sadness through my heart. No more playing house, no more fantasies. I put my hand to his face and brushed away some print powder. He leaned into my open palm and I ran my thumb across his lower lip. I could feel the tears on my face drying in the warm air. I leaned in and kissed him gently, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into me. I felt his hands on my back, running up and down, dipping into the top of my jeans. Everywhere he touched turned to fire. The kiss deepened, revealing our true desperation and need for each other, the pent up emotions pouring into every delicious caress. It was as if we were making up for every time one of us wanted to touch the other, and didn't. Every time one of us wanted to tell the other how we felt, but couldn't. I bit his bottom lip gently, pulling it outwards and then releasing it. I laughed and nipped his chin, and he smiled and kissed my neck sweetly.

"Grissom," I said between the kisses he was planting on my chin, my eyes, my nose, and forehead. "Grissom I…" I trailed off as his strong fingers ran through the thick curls of my hair, sliding down my back and up under the hem of my shirt. My knees were turning to jell-o; my entire body was aching for his touch, his kiss.

"Hey guys!" came a jovial voice from somewhere behind us. I screamed a yelp of surprise and jumped backwards away from Grissom. A blonde head came bobbing around from the side of the house, a lanky hand coming up over the side gate to unlatch the lock at the top. Officer Devlin also-known-as Officer shit-for-brains waltzed into the backyard in full uniform and smiled up dumbly at us as he walked towards the steps leading to the sundeck.

Grissom and I gaped at him for a moment, but I managed to regain my composure first. "Just what in the Hell do you think you're doing?!" I hissed, trying not to attract attention from the neighbors.

A puzzled look slowly crept across his wide, pale face. "Who, me?" he asked, pointing to his badge. How the Hell this guy ever got onto the force is beyond me.

"Yes, you!" I shrieked in a whisper. "You can't just come waltzing into the backyard in uniform like that; you're going to get our cover blown!" I decided it was unnecessary to mention the fact that I was quite sure that had already happened; the feds still didn't know about the box yet, and this guy needed a good kick in the ass.

"Well I tried the front door but no one answered," he explained, as if that justified everything. "Besides, they already got the guy."

"What?" interjected Grissom. "What are you talking about?"

"The serial whatsit, that Matt guy. Boss sent me over to tell you two he's in custody now, Palmer thinks we've got enough to nail him in court."

"We couldn't possibly have enough to get a conviction," I said, turning to Grissom, "all we've got is a pair of stolen underwear and a bunch of speculation."

"That does seem strange," he agreed.

"Well either way the case is closed as far as you guys are concerned," piped in Devlin, picking his ear with his pinky. "Palmer sent me here to tell you two the good news, and to let you know that you leave for Vegas tonight."

"Tonight?" I echoed, feeling all the blood drain from my face. So soon? I looked at Grissom and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. Would we be brave enough to continue on without the front of a fake relationship to justify it?

"Yep," answered Devlin, inspecting his fingernail for wax. "I'm supposed to take you guys down to the station to watch the interrogation, and then drive you back to the city."

Instead of the relief I should have felt at knowing it was all over, I selfishly could think only of my own feelings, my own heart. "Well," I said quietly, having lost all taste for picking on the dull-brained cop, "why don't you come inside while we get our things."

I didn't dare look Grissom in the face as I walked past him, my head cast down. I pushed open the sliding glass door and headed for the bedroom to get my belongings.

I moodily wrenched my suitcase out of the closet and flung it open on the bed, jamming my things in haphazardly. A small knock at the doorway made me turn around to see Grissom standing behind me, his arms crossed.

"Sara, you okay?" he asked quietly.

I turned my back to him, shoving a fistful of clothes into the case. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"No you're not," he challenged. I could feel him close behind me now but I refused to turn around, instead taking great care in folding some crumpled up shirts I'd tossed on the bed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, okay?" I pleaded, my eyes stinging, "I'm fine so just leave it."

"Sara…"

"Grissom, I know what you're going to say," I choked, flicking a tear at the corner of my eye with a knuckle. "So just save us both a bit of time, and spare me the heart-to-heart."

"What do you think I'm going to say?" he asked, grabbing me by the shoulders and turning me to face him. I jammed the heel of my wrists into my eyes, trying to dam the tears. After a moment I gained composure and took my hands away, looking at him.

"You're going to say that once we get back to Vegas everything is going to go back to the way it was; with us wanting to be with each other so badly, but being too scared to do anything about it."

"Sara…" he began again, but my phone interrupted the moment.

"I have to get that," I said sadly, pushing past him to the night table and closing myself in the ensuite bathroom for privacy. I flipped open my phone and cleared my throat, "Sidle."

"Evening Ms. Sidle," came Palmer's voice. "I've got some good news."

"Let me guess, you've taken Matt into custody and you're waiting on us to watch the interrogation?" I sighed..

"Something like that," he said, surprised.

"Just what makes you think you've got enough to arrest him?" I asked, making sure to keep any confrontational tones out of my voice. I was so tired of arguing.

"Well," he began, as I pictured him with his feet up on a desk counting off the facts on his fingers, "he fits the profile, he broke into the rental and stole your underwear, he was creeping around outside your place, made threatening remarks to you when he found out you were married, shall I go on?"

"If you're going to get a conviction you're going to have to, because that's not enough to take anyone into custody. We can't prove he did half of that, and even if we could, it's not enough."

He didn't sound at all put out, remarking, "Well we've still got Jennifer Kostuik to go on."

"Who?"

"The brunette you two found in the desert."

Ah, how soon they forget.

"She's awake," he continued, "and as soon as we get through with the interrogation here we're taking him back to Vegas so she can make the ID."

"Well are you going to come back to Vegas with us tonight then? If you wanted more time for the interrogation Grissom and I wouldn't be totally put out if we had to wait until tomorrow morning to get back home." I added casually. Any little excuse to have more time with Grissom.

"Sidle, what are you talking about?" asked Palmer irritably.

"Devlin told us you wanted us to leave for Vegas tonight, I was just thinking--"

"Whoa, whoa, Devlin told you what? Why have you been talking to Devlin, I sent him back to LV yesterday morning."

"What?" I asked, confused. "He's here now; he's the one that told us you have Matt in custody."

"I haven't talked to Devlin for a day and a half," was the abrupt reply. "What is he doing there? I sure as Hell didn't send him to take you back to Vegas; I need the two of you to stay at least another day to tie up loose ends. And I didn't tell him we had Matt in custody either."

My throat was dry. "Palmer when did you arrest Matt? What time was it?"

"Around 3:30 I guess, just a little after your near-miss at his house. Why? You know what, let me talk to Devlin; I think he must have gotten his wires crossed as to what his instructions were."

"So Matt couldn't have been the one to drop off the music box…" I trailed off, thinking out loud.

"Music box? What music box?"

"And you didn't send Devlin here…"

"No, I already told you that. The big ape must have misheard me."

"How long have you known Devlin for?" I asked suddenly, a dark idea creeping into my mind.

"Not long, he's just on loan from the Clark County; we needed a few extra bodies."

The room was spinning; I collapsed onto the toilet in shock. Could this be happening? Could I really have misjudged someone so grossly? A dull thud sounded from the direction of the kitchen, and any doubts I'd had were chased away by the terrifying thought that I had left Grissom alone.

"Palmer," I hissed into the phone, "send back-up here, now. Matt's not the one you want." Before he could protest any further, I snapped my phone shut and slid it into my back pocket. I put an ear to the door and listened closely, trying to remember whether I'd heard Grissom leave the bedroom or not.

Taking a moment to calm myself in an attempt to ease my hammering heart, I hesitatingly put my hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it to the right, pushing the door open a fraction of an inch. The hinge squeaked slightly and I cringed, sweat forming on my under arms and palms. I opened the door a little further and looked around the room. Grissom was gone.

I cautiously stepped out of the bathroom, my eyes flicking to the empty doorway. I swallowed, tucking my hair behind my ear nervously, and crept towards the door, gripping the frame and leaning my head out into the hall. I looked towards the kitchen, my clammy fingers slipping on the doorframe. From where I stood I could see half the table and two empty chairs, the music box visible on the table corner where I'd left it. Where I'd left it, but not how I had left it. Someone had opened the lid, and its eerie music slowly wound its way through the air towards me, making my blood run cold. I wanted to call for Grissom, but I was too scared that he wouldn't answer.

A dark feeling of dread filled my body, like a cold, damp hand closing over my heart. I licked my lips and padded stealthily down the hall into the empty kitchen. I walked to the table and snapped the lid shut, the cutting off the chilling music abruptly. The thought crossed my mind to grab a knife from one of the drawers, but then in a very "Duh!" moment, I remembered my gun stashed beneath the window seat in the living room.

I dashed to the window and tore off the pillows, throwing up the lid to the seat. Both my and Grissom's guns lay at the bottom, and I scooped mine up and slid it into the back of my jeans, the cool weight comforting me. Then I grabbed Grissom's and kept it in hand, pointed downwards.

I stood slowly, gathering my wits. I had to find Grissom and get us both out of there, but the question was: where was he? Did Devlin already know that I suspected him? If that thump I'd heard a few minutes earlier was anything to judge by, he knew. I decided to remain silent and search the rest of the house. My breath ragged, I methodically entered and scanned each room until I was back at the entrance to the bedroom. Could they have gone outside? I began to head for the door when something caught my eye. In the bedroom, on the floor under the window, I could just see the upper part of a hand protruding from behind the bed.

"No!" I breathed, rushing inside. I flew to the window, kneeling beside an unconscious Grissom, a bloody gash raking across his forehead. I dropped the gun I was carrying and shoved my knuckles into my mouth to keep from screaming as I checked for a pulse. As soon as I felt the warm, steady beat beneath my fingers, a relief like nothing I had ever known washed over me. Relief, and a joy that soared through my body like a drug, but was quickly replaced with sheer terror as I sensed someone else in the room. I spun around and saw Devlin standing in the doorway, looking very different than he had only minutes ago when I had seen him last.

His eyes, normally open and innocent, had become glittering and cruel. All of his normally dull, soft features had been twisted as if by some demented sculptor into a hard and malicious visage. He looked at me and I no longer saw the dim-witted, bumbling cop I had once known as Devlin. There was an intelligence in his eyes that had not been there before; his movements taking on a predatory edge.

"Sara," he whispered quietly, just the way he had in my dreams. The Trash Can Man. "I've been waiting so long. I wanted to take you right then, right when I first gave you that ride from the hospital." I maintained eye contact with him as I slowly snaked my hand towards Grissom's gun that lay on the floor next to him. "You were looking so beautiful, and angry," he went on.

Almost there…

"I knew you were feeling vulnerable after being alone with Jennifer, it was written all over your face."

So close…

"Let me tell you it took all my strength and then some to let you go again," he finished, smiling at me in the way a wolf smiles at a rabbit. "But darling, we're together now, and that's all that matters." His lips stretched further across his teeth, "And, sweet Sara, I've already got everything you might need at the place that I'm taking you to, so you can leave that gun behind."

Shit.

He took a step closer to me and I shrank back against the wall, putting a hand out to steady myself as I got to my feet. I reached back into the waistband of my pants and drew out my gun, brandishing it at him.

"Don't fucking move," I spoke slowly, trying as best I could to sound brave. "I swear to God, I will liquefy you if you take a step closer." He chuckled patronizingly and clapped his hands together under his chin, putting a foot out as though he were about to step forward, testing me. I drew back the hammer of the gun, the resounding click showing him I meant what I said. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"That's right, I'm not bluffing," I said sharply, willing my voice not to crack "so stay where you are and don't move a muscle. If you try anything, anything, I will end you. It's as simple as that."

"Oh Sara," he sighed, his hands dropping to his side in defeat. "If only you knew."

I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of asking, but suddenly I heard my own voice ringing clear out of my mouth, in an authoritative tone, "Knew what, Devlin?" I aimed the gun a little higher, so it was pointed right between his eyes. He had to know I meant business.

"Well I was just thinking it would probably be helpful for you to know," he started explaining, walking towards me casually.

Without a second thought, just as he was mid-stride, I pulled the trigger and waited for the familiar sound of explosion, the heat, the bucking of the gun in my hands, the smell of hot metal.

Nothing.

I pulled the trigger again, and the only response I got was the tiny, empty, pitiful, snap! of the empty chamber attempting to fire. "As I was saying," he continued in a mockingly bored tone as he stepped closer, "it would probably be helpful for you to know that I took the liberty of borrowing these a little earlier." He held out his hand and brandished two full cartridges, smiling at me horribly.

I immediately felt like I was going to be sick. My eyes widened and my hand dropped loosely to my side, the useless gun clattering to the floor. "Oh God…"

Devlin laughed; a high, sharp bark, and began to close the distance between us. My mind racing, I quickly bent down, grabbed the gun and hucked it at him as hard as I could. The heavy butt of the gun struck him in the head, hard, and I used that moment of confusion to leap up onto the bed and launch past him into the hall.

I heard him screaming, "BITCH!" at me as I flew down the hall, through the kitchen and onto the deck. Where was that fucking backup?! I could hear him thundering down the hall behind me as I fumbled with the latch to the deck's gate leading into the yard. My shaking hands could not seem to master the simplicity, so I scrambled up onto the deck's ledge and tried to jump. I cried out in panic as he closed in, stopping me from jumping by grabbing my ankle and hauling me back down. I fought against him, thrashing and flailing, and managed to cuff him in the face and again in the kidneys, but all that seemed to do was piss him off, his grip on me only tightening angrily. He viciously grabbed me by the hair, slamming me down onto the deck, and sat down hard on my stomach.

Dazed from the blow to the head, I grunted under the weight as all the air in my chest was pushed out of me, and his heavy hand clamped down securely on my mouth. Pinning my arms with his knees, he reached into his chest pocket and withdrew a syringe containing an alarmingly red liquid. My vision blurred as tears welled up in my eyes, and I watched him grab the safety cover with his teeth and slide it off, spitting it across the deck. The needle glinted sinisterly, and he yanked the plunger back with his teeth, tapping it against the deck to remove air bubbles.

He pushed the plunger a little and some of the liquid shot out of the end, sprinkling across my face. It was warm. I had been struggling and writhing since he had begun to sit on me, but as soon as I saw the needle I knew it was over. I lay still and watched in horror as he lowered the deadly tip to my neck and whispered, "Don't move, my darling."

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I dreamed of my mother again.

The sun was rising this time, its orange glow spilling over the horizon and illuminating her face. She smiled against it and rocked slowly in her swing, back and forth, back and forth.

Her hands were nearly clean now.

She looked to her left, to the empty swing where I had sat the last time we met, and her happy expression fell.

"Sara?"

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