A/N: Many thanks to Mingsmommy and Losingntrnslatn for their beta skills. I couldn't do this without them.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

January 2, 2008

I watch, fascinated, as the blood trickles across her pasty skin. The deep, dark red making strange patterns on her flesh. The coppery scent mingles with the smell of mildew and urine and fear, creating something rich and almost pleasant.

Elizabeth's screams have turned to whimpers. Her eyes are glazed and she is staring at me, but not really seeing me. I do not want to lose her to the shock. I need her answers. I must know what Gil Grissom knows.

"Elizabeth," my voice is calm, even, "stay with me." She does not respond. No sign that she even hears me.

"Elizabeth!" Louder this time. Still no response.

I watch her for a moment longer. She is weak. Weak. Even in this, the greatest battle of all, the ultimate fight, she has given up before it has truly begun. Suddenly, anger surges through me. All the disgust I have ever felt toward this woman coalesces into a rage so intense that my vision blurs. My veins burn with it. My brain is on fire. Of its own volition my arm flashes out and I slap her, the sound loud in the quiet of the room.

"Elizabeth," her name hisses from my lips. "Look at me."

Her eyes focus on me, and she draws in a deep breath. And then I see it. Underneath the fear. She is mad. Hatred flares in the brown depths and I smile. While she will not win this war, at least she is ready for the battle.

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The wind blew, carrying the stench of car exhaust and sending trash skittering across the parking lot. Sara tugged the stocking cap down over her ears. Glancing around, she felt a shiver crawl slowly up her spine. The ugliness, the seediness was easy to forget when a person wasn't exposed to it every day. It was places like this that brought home more than a few of the reasons she had left Las Vegas. As if he could read her mind, Grissom's hand landed warm and comforting against the small of her back.

"Neither of you has a gun," Brass glanced at Grissom as the three of them crossed the asphalt, snorting in disgust when Grissom merely shrugged. "Great. I don't suppose the two of you would just wait here."

"Sara…" Grissom turned to face her.

Sara stopped and, hands on her hips, shook her head. "No way." Seeing the steely glint in Grissom's eyes she lifted her chin and continued, "I don't work for you anymore. I'm going."

Grissom started to say something, then his mouth snapped closed. His gaze slid over her face like a caress. Underneath his worry and frustration, Sara could see the love lurking in his eyes. She met his gaze with a smile before blushing and looking away. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Grissom quickly donned the professional mask he had let slip for just a moment.

Brass stood quietly, watching them, a smile lighting his craggy features. "Feels like old times, you two." When they both gave him questioning looks, he chuckled and rocked back on his heels. "Don't even act like you don't know what I mean. Neither of you is stupid."

Grissom and Sara glanced at each other. He smirked and she shrugged and Brass, with a bemused shake of his head, turned and headed toward the building.

The Lucky-U was a two story concrete block structure that, at one time, may have been white; however, time and neglect had turned it a dingy grey. The second floor was reached by a set of concrete stairs which were located in a pass through in the center of the building. It was at the entrance to the corridor that Brass paused once more

His voice full of authority and a hint of fear, he said, "Stay behind me and neither one of you gets within thirty feet of that door. Got it?"

Grissom and Sara both nodded, each of them remembering a time when Jim Brass had gone into a hotel room and almost hadn't come out. Neither of them would ever be able to forget the fear and anger of that day and the days that followed.

With one last warning look, Brass led them into the pass through.

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"So, tell me, was your discussion with him about me?" I watch her now, reading the answer in her eyes, but still waiting for her to confirm it. Needing to know she will tell me the truth.

Slowly, her eyes locked on the blade in my hand, she nods.

My eyes slide closed. My emotions are a mix of anger and relief and fear. What does she know? What has she done? My eyes open slowly.

"You stupid…BITCH." The words hiss out of me, but I do not move. I remain seated, watching her as she recoils from my anger. "Do you know what this means? Do you?"

Elizabeth is shaking her head, but she is no longer cowering. She is watching me as if she now has the upper hand. I will take no insolence from her. Not after what she has done.

Leaning forward, I casually draw the scalpel along the top of her thigh.

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The door was green, the paint sun faded and peeling. The numbers were painted on the portal in what could have been white out.

For a several heart beats, Brass stood just to the side of the door willing his pulse to slow down. The adrenaline rush was always there when he started through a door. But, since the incident, it wasn't excitement that had his body on overdrive, it was dread. Glancing behind him, he made sure Grissom and Sara were still waiting inside the pass through.

Satisfied, he rapped on the metal door with his knuckles. Tuning out the noise of the city, he tried to focus on any sounds that might be coming from the room. Nothing. Not even the hum of a television. Leaning forward slightly, he double checked the number.

Shoving his jacket out of the way, he unsnapped his holster to make his gun accessible. Resting his hand on the butt of his pistol, he once again used his knuckles to knock on the door. "Mr. Grissom, could you open the door please?"

Finally, a muffled voice called out, "Who is it?"

"Can you open the door?" Brass pulled his gun from the holster. "The clerk here was worried. I want to make sure the woman with you is okay."

"I'm the only one here. Maybe you have the wrong room." The voice came again, this time a little louder, a little closer.

"Look, sir. If you won't open the door I'll have to call the police. The clerk was concerned that your…friend is sick or hurt. If I can just take a look then I'll go away and you can get on with your evening."

With the snick of the lock, the door opened a few inches and a face peered out under the chain. Brass, gun pressed against his thigh, studied the man looking out.

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"One sound and I will kill you before they can stop me." My hand is fisted in her hair, my blade at her throat, and Elizabeth whimpers her understanding.

The man at the door is with the police. He does not show a badge or even announce himself, but I know. I have seen him on the news many, many times. With a burst of clarity, I realize that he knows. He knows I am not Gil Grissom.

"May I help you?" I try to keep my voice steady and my eyes locked on his. Keeping eye contact is very important in making people believe you and I want him to believe me.

"Can I come in?" His smile is easy, meant to reassure me. But his gaze is sharp, taking in every detail.

I will never let him inside this room. I cannot let him inside this room.

"I told you, I'm the only one here. And, as you can see, I'm fine." The smile I give him seethes with falsehood, but I must convince him it is sincere. .

I notice he is holding his right arm very stiffly at his side, his hand hidden behind his leg and I realize he has a gun. He could, at any moment, force me to open the door. I keep my body behind the barrier, ready to shove it closed if he should try to enter. But he doesn't. Instead he seems to weigh my words and come to a decision.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you, sir. I'll check with the clerk on that room number." He gives me a smile that does not reach his eyes – they remain cold and flat, cop's eyes. "You have a nice night."

Turning his back, he walks away.

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"Well, Gil, something's not kosher with the Jewish doctor." Brass dragged a hand over his face, blowing out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Seeing identical smirks on the faces of Grissom and Sara he grinned before continuing. "Says he's the only one in the room. But there's a smear of what looks like blood on his face and he doesn't seem to be hurt."

"So, what are we going to do?" Sara spoke up.

"We aren't going to do anything." Brass held up a hand to stop her protests. "I am going to call for back up." Pulling out his radio, he stepped further into the pass through. "You'd better be right about this, Gil, or we'll both be taking a vacation."

"I know she's in there, Jim." Grissom's voice was filled with conviction. "I called the hospital while you were talking to Rosenthal. She didn't show up for work and they can't reach her."

"Maybe she's taking a sick day."

"According to the person I talked to, Elizabeth hasn't taken a sick day in over four years."

"Shit." Brass scrubbed a hand over his face. "Are you sure, Gil?"

"I can't see through walls but let's just say I have a gut feeling." Seeing the skepticism in his friend's eyes, Grissom added, "And if I'm wrong, we can always work on your golf game."

Brass gave a short bark of laughter and pulled out his phone. "Very funny."

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'God! God! God!' His name pounds though my brain. 'What now? What do I do now? I thought I had covered every angle. I thought I could kill two birds with one stone. How did it go wrong?'

Pacing. Pacing. Pacing. My mind turning over the facts, searching for a way out.

Elizabeth! Stopping, I study her. The rage boils up again. This is her fault. All of it. If she had stayed away from that man we would not be here. If she had just told me the truth I would not have hurt her. But could she do that? No!

"You," I whisper. "This is your fault."

I watch her, waiting on her to react. But she is still. Calm. Resolute. Slowly, I make my way to the bed and sit on the edge, staring into her eyes.

Elizabeth's body moves as the mattress dips under my weight. Her pale flesh undulating like mounds of gelatin. Her wounds opening and closing with the shift of her body.

"You don't understand what you've done, Elizabeth." With a sigh, I shake my head. "You've ruined things. Everything.

"Years of planning. Years of waiting. Years of wandering in the darkness waiting on God to show me the way." I am up, the need to move pushing me to pace again.

"It was a divine mission. Do you understand that? Do you?" I drag a hand through my hair. "No, you can't possibly understand. You are too stupid to understand something so perfect.

"They'll be back, you know. That man, or another like him." I feel the sweat rolling down my back. My breathing is shallow and my heart is pounding in my chest. My stomach clenches and I think I am going to be sick. Ruthlessly, I push that aside. "And he won't be alone. But I will make you a promise." I walk back to the bed and lean over her, putting my mouth next to her ear. "You won't live to testify against me."

There is a knock on the door and a voice letting me know the police have arrived.

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Brass hurried through the corridor while calling for back up. Reaching his car, he popped the trunk and pulled out his bullet proof vest. He glanced repeatedly at his watch and then at the street. Every minute spent waiting for a patrol car was another minute wasted. Five minutes later, vest firmly in place, Brass heaved a sigh of relief as the two officers arrived sans lights and sirens.

Quickly filling them in, he led the two men to the pass through.

"Okay, it's room one thirty-five. I don't know if he's armed so we assume he is. Waleski, you bust the door. I go in first. Porter, I'll go low and you come behind me. Our first priority is the woman. Get her out alive." Looking back and forth between the two officers he asked, "Got it?"

The men nodded and Brass turned to Grissom and Sara.

"You two stay here until I tell you it's okay. Got it?"

He waited until they both nodded their agreement before leading the two officers to the correct door.

"Doctor Rosenthal, this is the Las Vegas police." Brass' voice was loud and filled with authority. "Open the door."