Thanks goes out to my beta reader as always for helping me out with this. Don't forget to review on your way out!

Chapter Twenty-One: Coming to a Conclusion

Everything happened so quickly. All around them there had been silence save for the pounding of her heart inside her chest, echoing up through her body and reverberating in her ears. Her fingers tightened around the gun in her purse, pulling it free as he moved, realizing then and there that this had all been a set up. Michael was caught up in a quandary, his gaze transfixed on her and her firearm, but moving, shifting to the others as they pulled up around him quickly.

Brass was leading the way, gun drawn, approaching from her right, more men coming from her left, circling around the man that was edging back to his car. That wouldn't be an option though, Sara's eyes catching the blur of lights as they drew near, cutting off his escape route on the road.

"Stand back," Brass warned her, calling out to the man to give in to the authority. There was nowhere for him to go now.

Sara hardly heard Brass, her gun held steady, swallowing as the man let out a string of obscenities at her. It hadn't taken her long to realize that she would need help. Part of her could not believe she had even considered killing someone; Sara chastising herself even now for thinking of committing such an act. Even if she did kill him, even if she was able to hide the evidence, the guilt would eat away at her until there was nothing left. She already felt culpable for everything that had happened to Greg; the accident in the desert when they had fallen into the river, the assault report that had been filed against him momentarily, as well as the attack. She didn't need anything else added to the ever-growing list.

Yet now, as she gazed into Michael's eyes, the fury from earlier returned, his smug words echoing in her mind. Of how he bragged about what he had done, how he had been proud of it. Greg had been one of the best things in her dark and seemingly dwindling life, and Michael had tried to take it away. Even if things didn't work out between them, even if Greg never spoke to her after this…he was still a friend. A friend that had been hurt because of her…because of Michael.

"Sidle," Brass broke into her thoughts, his voice firm and angry. "Back down now," he warned, the iciness still in his voice.

She swallowed, realizing then and only then that her finger had been resting on the trigger in a deathlike grip. Her hands began to shake as she nodded, understanding that her job here was now done, lowering her firearm as they moved in to arrest the man. Michael's eyes never left her as he was cuffed, the anger apparent in his gaze, almost chilling. He could very well kill at the moment, and Sara wouldn't put it past him. Too many times had she seen this situation. Too many times now that she should have noticed sooner, soon enough to prevent all that had happened.

But things were only beginning, she knew. Carefully she pulled out the tape recorder that had been sitting in her pocket, handing it to the detective as he approached, the man taking it from her as she turned it off. He was livid, grabbing her by the arm as he led her away. "What were you thinking?"

"I told you I could get the guy," she answered, knowing full well why the man was so angry. It wasn't as if she had given them a lot of warning.

"You call out of the blue, deciding to use yourself as bait, stuff a tape recorder in your pocket, and show up without even knowing if we were going to be here. This man could have been armed, he could have killed you."

"Not if I could help it," she responded coldly, grimacing at her own words.

"And what were you planning on doing?" he asked, watching her.

Sara didn't respond at first, her gaze instead on the road as another car pulled to a stop. Grissom was out of the driver's side in mere moments, Nick from the passenger side. Whatever would follow would not be pleasant, she feared. Brass' voice snapped her out of her trance, Sara turning back to face him.

"It would have been self-defense," she answered simply.

"If you shot him, Sara, if you killed him, out here, in the middle of nowhere with no witnesses, it would be murder. You called him, lured him out here. It was premeditated."

"I got him, didn't I?" Sara demanded, already growing tired of the accusations. So she screwed up, again. What matter did it make? It wasn't something she could change.

"Jim," Grissom nodded at the man, barely glancing at her. "A moment, please?"

Brass watched her for a moment longer, nodding before he turned away. "You, do not move," he warned her.

She let out an impatient sigh, clutching her purse as the two men walked away, their voices hushed and quiet. Every so often they would glance her way, but never met her edgy gaze. Sara could feel the irritation rise; she didn't need to be coddled, didn't need to be treated like a little. Whatever they had to say, whatever they thought about her, they could tell her to her face.

Mere moments before she strode over to join them the two broke off, Brass moving to speak with his officers, Grissom coming her way. Any confidence she once held melted quickly. Grissom was one person she could not reason with. The man was a resemblance of a brick wall. You couldn't reason with a brick wall, you couldn't break it, nor get around it.

Quickly she turned away, her head hanging as he came to a stop in front of her, studying her with that quiet, unchanging gaze. He was examining her, much like he did evidence, or his own cockroach collection. He was a scientist, and everything she knew, almost everything she knew, she had learned from him. She knew he was going over every flaw, every issue, and every element that was out of place. Sara had given him plenty to go off of lately. Surely he saw a lot of errs in his choice to keep her on as a CSI.

"I screwed up, yes I know," she snapped finally, unable to bear the silence any longer. "I was hasty, irrational, and I choose lousy people to date and hang out with. I nearly got Greg killed and I could have killed myself. I could have avoided this entire mess if I just reported him after the incident at the apartment instead of lying about it. Have I forgotten anything?"

Grissom watched her, amused, "Well, you did leave work during your shift without talking to me or Ecklie."

"Yeah," she admitted softly, "if I did tell you then you would have asked why."

"Precisely why you should have. Why didn't you come to me before?"

She let out a sigh, shaking her head. The one question she couldn't answer. Why hadn't she? Why hadn't she gone for help, why hadn't she talked to anyone about it? More importantly, why hadn't she explained it to Greg? Instead she had scared him off, causing even more problems.

"I thought I could handle it," she answered softly, the details running through her mind.

"Well, hopefully you can," he told her. "We need to get back to the lab, run some samples, and do some interviews with this guy. Then Ecklie would like to see you in his office."

She forced a tight smile, nodding. "Of course he would."

Coffee…he needed coffee. But Archie had taken what was left in the pot and the department was out, and no one was willing to run out and get him some. Worst of all, he still couldn't leave the lab. Greg rubbed his eyes briefly, yawning as he sat down on the bench in front of his locker. He now had been working for twenty-seven hours straight, minus fifteen minutes here and there for short breaks. A considerable feat, concerning he was technically on medical leave.

What he needed now was some good strong caffeine…that or a sleeping pill and his own bed. No…forget the sleeping pills, and the bed…he could fall asleep right here and now. He almost did, the odd sensation of falling over snapping him out of his dreary-like state. Quickly he rubbed his eyes again, forcing himself to his feet. He couldn't fall asleep when he was up and moving around…could he?

To make matters worse there was no one around to help keep him awake. Aside from the lab technicians that were steadily processing evidence that was. He had already visited a few of them, all of which had demanded he leave shortly after. Greg couldn't blame them; he knew he could be…vocal at times, but he didn't mean to prattle. It was the only technique he knew in order to keep himself awake.

It wasn't that he couldn't sleep…rather more that he didn't want to sleep. Grissom and Nick had left nearly an hour ago after receiving an urgent message from Brass. Greg never got the gist of it all, but he knew it concerned Sara. That alone worried him. He hadn't seen her in days, and Nick had stated she seemed…disconnected, almost withdrawn yesterday.

A million things had gone through his mind, a million more still running, twirling in a cluttered circus-like act in his head, each scenario worse than the last. Several times he had tried to call now, each one being ignored. He assumed Nick and Grissom had finally switched their phones off; now they just went straight to voicemail. Catherine and Warrick were still out at their own scenes, not due back for several more hours. He could try and call them, he mused, but hardly would they know and he would only create unsound panic where it wasn't needed.

His next option, of course, was to go ahead and leave the lab. It seemed like a good idea at first; but then memory had slammed into him much in the same way the ground had after having taken the fall nearly a week back now. Nick had taken his keys, his wallet…this left him with no option of driving, or catching a cab. He could easily swipe keys to one of the Denalis, but that wouldn't go over so well. As soon as someone noticed he had, Brass would be hauling him back in, no doubt slapping him with a fine for driving without a license.

Greg let out a groan as he made his way back to the break room. The empty coffee pot sat in the sink, the fine grainy residual still lingering at the bottom. The coffee was cheap, the filters hardly working, but Greg would have taken a cup without question. Already he could feel the unwelcome pull, the signals his body was sending, telling him that he must rest, that he needed sleep.

He was moving again, walking the only thing keeping him awake. Briefly he wondered if walking outside along the front of the building was allowed. Technically it would still be on department grounds; fresh air would help him wake up. Yet Greg knew that wouldn't go over well. He could swear that Nick had planted spies in the lab; twice already he had tried to go outside for a brief moment, and hadn't even made it past the doors. The man meant well, but it was beginning to get rather irritating.

Instead he found himself wandering around the halls, earning looks from the other technicians, warning glares that told him to stay away. Greg offered them the briefest of smiles before continuing on. He was starting to reach the point of no return. Soon, he was certain, he would be dead asleep on his feet, his legs would continue to carry him around the building. The thought amused him, the briefest of notion entering his mind, wondering what the others would say or think when they saw him like that.

It was short-lived, a commotion in the hallway drawing his attention. All thoughts of sleeping vanished, his adrenaline pumping in his veins as he hurried around the corner, coming to a stop as the group of people entered. He noticed Brass first, leading the way with his long unbroken stride. More cops followed him, wrestling with a suspect.

A mixture of feelings washed over him, Greg recognizing his face instantly. When he had first thought of it being a simple attempted mugging gone wrong, it had been alright. That Greg could deal with; yet the smug smile on the man's face said differently. This man, whoever he was, had indeed known Greg, but to what reason the ex-lab rat couldn't fathom. Even more disturbing was the fact that this stranger had it set on killing him.

Greg turned away, his stomach tensing at the notion. He gathered his thoughts however, pulling them in close as he glanced back up, willing himself to face the man again, to try and piece it all together. But the stranger was gone, Brass and the cops moving into the interrogation room, and Greg caught sight of Grissom moments before the man followed.

Still it was concerning; no sign of Nick, no sign of Sara…or at least that was what he had thought, his eyes catching her form in the next moment as she came through the doors. Greg let out the breath he had been holding, relief surging through him then and only then. She was safe…he of course had feared the worst when the two men had stormed out of the lab earlier. Yet even as the questions were answered there were more that came to mind. Somehow this situation made less sense than when it had first started.

He hadn't moved; so he was startled as she reached a hand out towards him. Greg hadn't been paying attention, lost in his own thoughts, pulling away as he caught her movement from the corner of his eye. The simple feat caused Sara to withdraw, both anxious and yet tentative to reach out to him. Cursing him and his stupid tired-self Greg let out an apology.

"You don't look so good," she commented quietly, hands grasping the strap of her purse tightly as they fell in front of her.

"Well…I'd say you look better than I do, but then again…you always do."

It was an attempt to lighten the mood, to bridge the awkward gap between them. But it seemed to do the opposite, Sara not even offering a smile in return. The reaction was worrisome, Greg beginning to suspect that something more was going on, and he wet his lips, trying to stutter out something to stay.

"It's not…your fault Greg," she told him quietly, cutting off his failed advances. "There's a lot we have to talk about…that I have to talk about. Not here though…"

Sara hadn't indicated, hadn't pointed, but Greg followed her gaze to where it led down the hall. Slowly he understood, and the same familiar clench returned to his stomach. It was the nauseous feeling, the same one you normally got when you knew something was wrong, but you weren't quite certain what.

"Later then?"

Slowly she nodded, this time forcing a smile. "If you want to wait…you don't have to."

He shrugged, putting up his own façade for his own sake if not for hers. "Not like I have much of a choice, I'm being held prisoner. And I don't have any coffee. This truly is prison."

For the briefest of moments he could see the real Sara behind the reserved eyes, the spark lighting up her face, but it was short-lived. The same despondent look returned to her face and she moved by him without another word. Greg watched her until she was around the corner, knowing already to where she might be headed. It wasn't a promising sign, and Greg wasn't sure what was to come in the near future.

Yet it was something he could not ponder on at the moment, his mind occupied instead on the suspect they had brought in. The interrogation had already begun, but Greg would not object to overseeing the process partway through. Finally willing himself to move, he slipped into the room adjacent to the one Brass and Grissom had entered earlier, preparing himself to face the man that had tried to kill him only the day before.

TBC