Author's Note: I wanted to apologize for the Rocky Horror reference that may have thrown a few people last chapter (Planet, Schmanet, Janet). Just know it was a pop culture reference and leave it at that. As for this chapter, I hope it shows a little more of Sara's thought processes while speaking with Danny (as you may have noticed, all deals she's made with him have been written from his point of view, and for a reason. ;o) )

Chapter Eleven: Traitors

"The coal, in your stocking," Hodges told Warrick. "It's got traces of copper, just like the others."

"So this is really our guy," Warrick said. "Great, did you get anything else?"

"Yeah," he said. "A hair, in amongst the coal lumps, follicular tag and everything. Kicked it over to Wendy a while ago, she should be able to tell you about that."

Nick skidded into the room. "Wendy's got a match," he said, as if he'd been eavesdropping. "And you won't believe who she's got."

"Spit it out," Warrick said.

"A psychiatrist by the name of Dr. Rupert Norris, on file as a volunteer for a clinical study down in Arizona two years ago on the role of genetics in deviant behavior. And get this: he was used as the control, the 'sane' person."

"A psychiatrist," Warrick deadpanned. "A crazy psychiatrist. A crazy shrink is threatening Greg and killing families on Christmas Eve?"

"Brass is bringing him in now," Nick said with a grin. "It looks like he finally screwed up."

Sara drummed her fingers on the wheel of the car as she watched Danny enter the library. The second he disappeared, she reached for her phone and dialed.

"Brass."

"I'm going to need you to make an arrest," she said calmly.

"Sara? Where are you?"

"UNLV campus," Sara replied calmly. "Over by the library. I have a suspect inside. He's being talked out now. How fast can you make it here?"

"I can send over the campus police," Brass suggested. "They can be there in a few minutes. I'm a little tied up here, but I can be there myself in maybe an hour if I'm lucky. Don't do anything until our boys get there, OK?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sara said, eying the door to the library.

"Oh, wait, Sara…" Brass said, sounding distracted. "Apparently there was a murder on the other side of campus, all units are there right now blocking off the scene. New ETA is about ten minutes."

Sara was suddenly nervous. She didn't know how long Danny and Mickey would be inside, or what she would do if they came out and there were no cops there. "I can't keep them inside," she said. "But I can keep them distracted."

"Don't you even think about it, Sara, do you understand me?" Brass said sternly.

"Brass, he's a kid, I can handle him," Sara assured him. "Plus, I have a friend helping me out. It's two on one, and I have a gun and he doesn't."

"Are you sure of that?"

Sara paused. "No," she said. "But I doubt he kept the murder weapon."

"All in all, it's best not to be over confident. Don't do anything until the cops get there. Understand?"

Sara grumbled. She'd have to keep up pretenses if Mickey and Danny came out. She'd have to pretend like she wanted to help Mickey too. That wasn't risky, it was imperative. "Fine, I won't do anything…" she said to Brass.

"Thanks," he said and hung up.

"…stupid," she added as she looked out the window at the library. She wondered what Danny would think, when he came out to squad cars. He wouldn't trust her anymore. But she needed to do this. She didn't care who Mickey was; no excuse was good enough to kill an entire family.

She saw Danny heading towards her. He looked tired, depressed, almost scared, but that was to be expected. The fact that he was alone told her something wasn't right. He opened the passenger door and got inside.

"He's not coming," he said quietly.

"He can't not come," Sara said. "Danny, he murdered a family—"

"Don't you think I know that?" Danny snapped, angrily, making Sara recoil in surprise.

She tried a different approach. "OK, then. Why isn't he coming?"

"He thinks I betrayed him," Danny replied. "He called me Benedict Arnold."

"That's ridiculous, Benedict Arnold planned to—"

"That's not the point, is it?" Danny interrupted, obviously frustrated. "And now…" his voice got quiet and a tear escaped from his eye. "Now, I'm conflicted."

She was confused. "About what?"

"He gave me an ultimatum," Danny explained, quietly. "I had to choose. You or him."

Sara nodded, understanding now why he seemed so dejected and angry. "Danny, it'll be OK."

"No, it won't," he said, refusing to look at her. "I think I made the wrong choice."

"You made the right choice," she told him, firmly. "You made a good choice."

He looked at her then with tears in his eyes and shook his head. He swallowed. "Thank you, Sara," he said, his voice trembling, "for everything you've done for me. You're a good person."

"Danny…" Sara began, not knowing what to say. "Where is he? Is he still in the library?"

"You have to understand," he said quickly, ignoring her question. "You're better than I am. And that's why…" He looked away. "I'm not as good a person as you, Sara," he whispered. "And that's why I didn't choose you."

She frowned, confused, and suddenly strangely unnerved. And then, from behind her there was a shattering glass and she turned to see a tall, lanky teen holding a crowbar.

"He chose me," he said, braggingly, and then suddenly there was a burst of pain against her temple and everything went black.

"I didn't screw up," the man said as he calmly looked at his nails in the interrogation room. "It was a gift." The man, obviously quite affluent, was well groomed, with neatly trimmed brown hair and eyes to match. He was clean-shaven and wore a suit and tie and looked like he couldn't be more relaxed anywhere else in the world.

"A gift," Brass repeated skeptically. "To who?"

The man looked up and smiled at Brass. "To Greg," he replied simply. "After all, I owe everything to him, don't I?"

"OK," Brass said, intrigued by this man in spite of himself as he slipped into a chair opposite him. "I don't get you. We call you up and you answer as if you've been expecting us, and calmly and cooperatively come into the station. You agree to speak with us without a lawyer, and now… is that a confession I hear coming out of your mouth, Dr. Norris?"

"I have one condition," Dr. Norris said, his eyes on Brass. "I will tell you everything. I will give you intimate details about all twenty-four crime scenes and a full confession, no strings attached but one. I want to speak with the boy. I want to speak with Greg. Alone. Without any eavesdroppers. If I find that a single person is listening to our conversation, then the deal is off."

"We have your DNA at a crime scene," Brass hissed. "You're in no position to be making deals."

A twisted smile distorted Dr. Norris's features. "You were an only child, weren't you Captain Brass?"

"What?" Brass said, uninterestedly. He didn't have time for this. He looked at his watch. He was supposed to head over to UNLV a while ago.

"Or perhaps the oldest son," Dr. Norris added. "The way you walk and act. You think you can control me. No one ever tried to control you."

Brass rolled his eyes. "Creeps like you have tried to 'read' me before, Dr. Norris. You're not the first guy to pull the psycho-psychic routine on me."

"You were married once," Dr. Norris continued, "but it didn't end well. You thought you could control her too. She was a wild horse, and that's why you married her. But she wasn't to be tamed, was she Captain?"

This was more annoying than anything else. "OK, this is getting old and I have places to be. You can either confess now, or we can take you to a holding cell and let you think about it. God knows, we don't really need it. We have everything we need to make a solid case against you."

Dr. Norris still looked as relaxed as a cat as he stretched out in his chair. "You see, Captain, I read people. It's what I do, as a profession. It's what you do, too, isn't it? So, Captain, tell me. What does my body language say about me?"

Brass narrowed his eyes. Dr. Norris was beating around the bush. He was playing games Brass didn't want to play. And yet, he felt if he quit the game now, he would miss something vitally important. "You're… calm," Brass said. "At ease. You're arrogant and self-assured."

"And if I'm being convicted on multiple counts of murder…" Dr. Norris said, "why on earth would I be self-assured?"

And then, Brass realized it wasn't a game anymore. At least, not for him. "I don't know."

"It is the twenty-fifth of December today. And Sneaky Santa has been striking houses since the first. Why not go out with a bang on Christmas Day? Why not hit somewhere… close to home. My advent calendar is almost ended and you have yet to figure out what the prize is behind the last door. Do you really think I would come here without ensuring that my big finale would come to pass?"

"What do you have planned, Doctor?" Brass snarled angrily.

Dr. Norris laughed. "The boy first," he said. "Questions later. And do be quick about it, would you? Children might die tonight."

Brass glowered at Dr. Norris. "If you think I'm going to leave you alone in a room with Greg Sanders, you've got to be on something. I'll have them test you for drugs. And not the fun, pee-in-a-cup kind of tests. But the more invasive, painful kind of tests."

"Of course I don't expect you to not watch us," Dr. Norris laughed. "You may see behind the glass if you like, to make sure I behave. But if I find out you're listening…"

Brass ground his teeth. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to put Greg in that kind of position. But if what this man said was true, and who's to say it wasn't…

"I'll ask him," Brass said slowly, "if he wants to speak with you."

Brass got up and left the room, his blood boiling. He saw Grissom, watching silently from behind the glass. "You hear what he's asking of us?"

Slowly, Grissom nodded. "I don't like it anymore than you do, Jim. But frisk him for weapons, keep an eye on him… What harm can talking do to Greg?"

Brass smiled, grimly. "You don't talk to guys like this everyday, Gil," he said. "Sometimes, they can get to you." And with that he left, out into the hall.
Sara's head hurt. The statement should have won an award for being the understatement of a century. Sara's skull was ready to crack in two and her brain had finally had enough and wanted out of this whole mess before it was turned into scrambled eggs inside her head. She closed her eyes tight and moaned lightly, her fingers flying to the epicenter of her radiating pain. She felt a large bump right beside her temple and her heart skipped a beat. An inch to the right and he could have launched her into a coma and her brain might have never forgiven her for that.

He…

Who was he? What exactly had happened? Her brain was on strike for the way she had treated it and refused to remember. She rubbed her eyes and massaged her temples, trying to will her headache away and sooth her shaken brain enough to sort out all the fuzzy details.

First thing was first. She needed to determine where she was. She was lying down on something hard and cold. She felt around her with her palms. She was on a hard, plastic floor it seemed. That wasn't a good sign, but at least it was a start. She opened her eyes and was blinded by the bright florescent lights that buzzed around her head. But soon, her eyes adjusted and she made out the shadow of a bookcase looming over her. She tried to think, but her brain was still upset with her. She threatened to bang it against the floor to help jar her memory and at this it began to cooperate again.

Faces… names… cases… Christmas Eve… Danny. Mickey.

Oh no…

"Are you OK?"

The voice was only a whisper but it made her jump. Sara blinked and saw that Danny was kneeling by her side, holding her hand so tightly that it had gone numb and Sara hadn't even noticed.

She closed her eyes and nodded, though her brain didn't like even this smallest of movements. "Et tu, Brutus?"

"I don't speak Spanish," Danny replied, the reference going right over his head.

Sara was in no mood to explain Latin let alone Julius Caesar to the boy who had taken advantage of her. She let out a pained breath and rubbed the bump on the side of her head.

"What did he hit me with?" she asked.

"Gun," Danny replied, succinctly.

Nothing like being pistol-whipped in the face to bring you back to your senses. What was she thinking, going after Mickey without calling?

But wait. She did call. She had called, she had called Brass, and he had sent units over—

"The cops," Danny said quietly, as if he could read her mind. "They're dead."

Sara's heart stopped beating. Brass? She wouldn't think of it. Oh God, what if Grissom was with him?

"What cops?" Sara said, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.

"Campus cops," Danny replied. "Mickey shot them."

Sara's heart continued to beat again. She had sympathy for the campus police officers who had lost their lives, but was so utterly relieved that it hadn't been Brass or Grissom. "Where is he?" she asked

Danny turned his head and Sara followed his gaze down the aisle of books. He was leaning on the front desk, chatting with the librarian who looked utterly horrified as she sat gagged and bound to her chair behind her desk.

"What does he want?" Sara asked. Danny didn't answer.

As if he knew they were talking about him, Mickey turned to look at Danny and Sara and he smiled. He strode over to them. "I see you're awake, Sara." He looked at Danny. "Listen. I need your hands."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You could have just asked."

He laughed. "No. I mean that I need you mobile. Which is why you aren't tied up. But she is." He gestured with his gun over his shoulder at the librarian. "If you misbehave, she dies. Do we have an understanding?"

Sara was more interested in why he needed her unbound than anything else. "What do you want from me?"

"Now, you may have noticed that you are missing your gun," Mickey continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "We have that now. We'll be taking care of you from here on out. If you do exactly as I say, then nobody has to get hurt, least of all you. Do you promise you won't pull any tricks?"

Sara glanced at Danny, who was begging her to say yes with his eyes. She sighed. "What am I going to say, no?"

Mickey smirked. He looked at Danny. "Your girl's smart."

"I'm not his girl," Sara hissed.

"Mickey?" Danny said, his voice trembling. "Can I talk to you over there for a second?"

Mickey nodded and he and Danny went over to another bookshelf and started talking. Sara glanced at the door. She had a clear path to it. She looked at the librarian, who had tears rolling down her cheeks and felt a pang of guilt. At that moment the librarian's eyes met with Sara's. Sara silently pleaded her, asking her permission. She nodded at the door. The librarian looked then let out a sob before looking away. Sara glanced at Danny and Mickey, who were arguing quietly now, totally distracted. It was now or never, no time for hesitations. She slid slowly to the door, creeping on her hands and knees. She was almost there, just a few more paces and she'd make it…

The huge crack rang in her ears as though it had occurred right next to her head. The librarian was wailing at the top of her lungs. Sara froze as the breath caught in her chest, her head screaming, her heart beating as fast as it possibly could as she stared at the hole in the floor in front of her, where she could have been in less than a second.

Slowly, she turned her head and saw Mickey aiming right at her, his gun still smoking. "I don't miss," he said. "I used to go hunting with my Dad. So don't think that was an accident. Now. Get back over by the bookcase and only do what I tell you to. Understand?"

Sara knew he wasn't lying. She nodded and headed back over to the bookcase. Danny sulked over by the front desk, trying to avoid Sara's eyes. Mickey approached her and handed her her own cell phone.

"I need you to do me a little favor," he said.