Sorry for the long wait in-between posts, it turns out I can't write unless my muse is around. So massive thanks to Jenny for getting this one going again!

Chapter Thirteen: Moving on

The atmosphere was most definitely dreary, the quiet pair sitting in the back of the restaurants having hardly touched either their drinks or meals. Catherine pushed her plate to one side, allowing herself more room in which she could place the pad down on the hard surface, jotting down a few last notes before turning back to the first page.

Nick stared blankly ahead, faintly ignoring the blonde's work. He hadn't been in much the mood to eat either, but Catherine insisted that they needed to go somewhere they could talk, and since they were staying in separate hotel rooms, the restaurant was the only place open this early in the morning. However they could not stay unless they ordered something.

So while their food grew cold they had discussed quietly their options. Grissom had already informed to the hang around while he and Brass tried to negotiate the Oregon Crime Lab to allow the two CSI's back in the investigation. It was difficult though, and hardly likely that it would happen. They had no jurisdiction over this case.

Catherine, meanwhile, had gone through her own sources. They did not have all the details of the case, but with the notes she had found in Greg and Sara's hotel room, along with the information given to them by Mikayla and Darrin, they had gotten off to a decent start.

"Apparently our officer friend is having a hard time with a current marriage. He and his wife are going through what sounds like a bitter divorce. He's losing a lot of money apparently, and visitation rights for his kids."

She paused, waiting for Nick to say something, but he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. She frowned lightly, but continued, flipping to the next page. After all, she knew the Texan well enough, he deserved some credit.

"Greg and Sara documented the body already, noting a few key contraindicating components in comparison with the first case. So we're probably looking at a copy cat. The blood pool was a set up. But why would someone do that?"

She waited again, but with no answer she frowned again, this time deeper. "Nick?"

The Texan barely looked at her before turning away, his expression still grim. "They were setting a trap."

"Why?" Catherine wondered quietly, raising a single eye brow.

"To catch something."

"What exactly?"

Nick was still frowning, watching her sadly. "In order to know what the prey is you have to first figure out what the bait is."

She waited, but when he didn't continue she let out a sigh. Sometimes talking with the Texan was next to impossible. "What is the bait then?"

"The body."

Realization struck slowly. His head felt as though it was weighed down with a thousand weights, and his body barely registered the commands given by his brain. His movements were slow, and sluggish, as though he was hung-over without even first drinking.

There was a bitterly foul taste in his mouth, and on his lips as he risked opening his eyes an inch, frowning as the intense sun burned into his eyes. Obviously that had been a bad idea. He closed them again, taking in a deep breath before opening them once more, this time using caution.

He realized that part of the reason he couldn't get up was the simple that Sara was fast asleep, her head resting against his chest. Greg honestly never remembered even falling asleep, or moving under the small tree that offered a glimpse of shade. He wet his dry lips, drawing in a deep breath as he tried to recall the last conscious thoughts.

Sara moved ever so slightly, raising her heads at the slight movements underneath her, her eyes blinking as they slowly focused. Pushing herself up she pushed the hair from her eyes, moving closer to his face. "Greg?"

He frowned, not moving even when her warm breath brushed against his cheek. "Sara?"

"You're awake," She replied numbly, pressing one of her hands against his forehead.

"When did we fall asleep?" he asked in return, ignoring her previous question.

"You passed out," she closed her eyes, sitting up fully this time as she rubbed them with the back of her hand. "You've been out for hours now."

Letting out a sigh his eyes drifted shut again. That would be the reason he felt so horrid. Even now his stomach was churning, threatening to empty itself of the protein bars and sips of water he had taken earlier that day.

"You should drink some water," he heard Sara's suggestion quietly, but shook his head immediately after, his stomach protesting more against the sudden movement. The thought of drinking anything, let alone having to move in order to drink nauseated him beyond all thought.

Seconds later he found himself on his side as his stomach violently protested. Sara's hands were on his shoulders as he emptied the bitter contents onto the ground, gasping for the much needed air in-between heaves.

Slowly Sara coaxed him into a sitting position shortly after making certain that was all he had left. Greg didn't protests as she pressed the half-emptied container into his hand, motioning for him to drink. He started to protest, after all it was all the water they had left, and he didn't want to drink it just to throw it back up.

"You need something in you," she shook her head as he opened his mouth. "We're staying here until you have some."

"I'm not drinking it all," he warned, knowing that the precious lifeline was their last hope.

He took the few sips that would please her, cringing slightly at the warm taste. At least it was something, and he was grateful that his stomach did not protest. He was starting to feel better now, but still lightheaded, the ground turning at his feet and he squeezed his eyes shut in meager attempt to block it out.

"We'll stay here a little longer," Sara started, but Greg was already shaking his head.

"We need to keep moving."

"Greg, you'll kill yourself if you don't get some rest," Sara protested, once again unable to finish due to his interruption.

"If we stay here we will die anyways. Sara…it's been four days; you know that most searches are called off within three, within a week at the most. No one is looking for us, we don't have any more food, and this is all the water we have left. We need to keep on moving."

She sat uncomfortably here for a moment, considering what he had said. Sara knew that he was right, in some ways, but also could not even began to comprehend the thought of forcing Greg to his feet and having him walk in dry heat. He was already exhausted, pale at a first glance, and clearly out of breath from just sitting there.

"Greg…I don't think…"

Her half-stated plea fell on deaf ears as Greg pushed himself to his feet, wobbling once he was up, quickly trying to gain his balance. She was at his side in an instant, and though he accepted her offering of help, he would not allow her to sit him back down. Once he was sure that he was secure, Greg pulled the backpack on, sliding the water bottle back inside shortly before hand.

"Just promise me, if we're going to do this, let me know if you need to rest," Sara warned him, setting out on a nice, slow, pace. Greg barely nodded, wanting to go a bit faster, but not daring to even try.

His throat was sore, and his skin burned, his head felt as though it was filled with cotton. Each step he took felt as though a battle was being fought, and his body was taking the toll. It was no more than ten minutes when the came to another stop, Greg once again refusing the offering of water, even though it sounded beyond wonderful. If they were going to make it out of here, he had to be strong. Sara needed him to be strong; Greg knew that if he didn't continue on, there was no way Sara would either.

"You should get some sleep," Sara told him, taking a seat next to him.

"I already have," Greg pointed out mildly, wondering if she would even listen. "Or did you forget that I've spent half the day on the ground?"

"Passing out doesn't count as resting," she warned him sternly, her expression alone drawing a laugh from him.

"I can rest when I'm dead."

She did respond this time, and Greg turned to match her unsettling gaze. He let out an apologetic smile, reaching out to grasp her hand. "I'm sorry," he told her, giving her a quick squeeze. "We'll get out of this; just hang in there a little longer."

"You seem so certain," Sara stated, wondering how he could come up with such a notion considering the state he was in. She herself had already begun to feel the effects of the elements, the lack of sleep, of shelter, of food and water. By technical standards they should already be dead, but by a small misfortune, their would-be-killer had bought them a few extra days of life.

"I know so," he whispered quietly, his words nearly lost on the wind as a storm began to brew.

TBC