"You been married long?" Lisa asked Warrick as she set his cup of coffee down on the desk in front of him.

"Just a few months," Warrick replied with a tired smile, nodding his thanks for the coffee. He took a much needed sip and looked at the ring on his finger. "Her name's Tina. She's a nurse at Desert Palm's hospital back in Veg-" his words trailed off suddenly, his attention veering toward the orderly hurrying down the corridor with an empty wheelchair.

"It's her," he told Lisa quickly, his senses once again on full alert. He glanced toward the Reno PD officer dressed as a cleaner mopping the floor, and catching his eye, nodded his signal before turning his attention to CCTV monitor concealed behind the nurse's station while calling Brass.

"Jim?" Warrick said as soon as Brass picked up his cell. "McKay's just showed up, dressed as an orderly. She's got a wheelchair with her."

"How the hell did she get in without showing up on the CCTV?" Brass exclaimed angrily.

"She's got to have someone on the inside. That's the only way." Warrick watched as McKay checked over her shoulder, winked brazenly at the camera and entered Grissom's room. "She's just gone inside now," the CSI relayed to Brass.

"Everything's in place?"

"Yep. Just waiting for his word."

"Okay. Good."

"I don't like what we're doing, Jim. Grissom's not thinking straight. What if he doesn't call for backup?"

There was a long pause before Brass replied. "You give him his ten minutes with her as we agreed, then you go in and take her out." He stopped and sighed. "Listen, Rick, you sure you're going to be okay? You want me to send one of my guys down?"

"No. If you're right about Laura..." Warrick sighed and picked up the headset to listen into Grissom's room. "No. You stay with Sara. I got Griss covered."


"Hello, Angel," her gravelly voice purred sweetly into his ear.

Her lips lingered on his cheek, hot musky breath blowing down his neck sending shivers down his spine. His heartbeat quickened at the violation, his stomach churning at the thought that he could have mistaken McKay's touch for Sara's and he swallowed hard to keep the revulsion her touch caused from rising to his throat. His eyes snapped open, cold and wide and angry that he'd been caught unawares, meeting her wicked gaze dead on.

Smiling brightly she winked at him. "Ain't your little heart beating that much faster for seeing me, huh?" she whispered playfully. Her face was a breath away from his, the stale tobacco smell permeating his nostrils and the air all around, nauseating.

Grissom showed no fear in his stare, just utter disgust and loathing, and an overpowering rage for revenge. He wasn't after an apology, even Brass knew that. He wanted revenge, justice for Sara and as crazy as it sounded, he realised now was willing to give his life for it. Since his conversation with the detective, he'd thought about little else than this final encounter, his only chance for retribution, but he wasn't prepared for the crushing feelings, the murderous thoughts unleashed by her presence. He wanted to wipe the smirk off her face and rip her vociferous tongue out. But more than that, he wanted to cut her finger off and reclaim what was rightly his and Sara's.

McKay must have read his intentions because she pulled back from his face sharply, leaning on his broken arm for leverage to get back in an upright position. She pressed down hard, twisting his shoulder back with painstaking efficiency, reminiscent of the way she would restrain mental patients and Grissom couldn't help the muffled growl of pain that escaped his lips. He bit down hard and took a few heavy breaths through his nose to ride the pain.

Clearly satisfied that she had the upper hand McKay released the pressure on his shoulder and slid her hand down over the bedcovers to his groin area. Her eyes twinkled with giddy mischief and held his all the while, gauging for his reaction, her smile turning lustful as she roughly cupped her hand over his privates.

"That was quite the little welcome you had for me just then," she said, licking her lips suggestively.

His breath hitched as his eyes darkened menacingly. His left hand flew down to her wrist, ensnaring it with so much force that McKay had no choice but to release him. He twisted her hand up toward him, squeezing her wrist so tightly that he could feel blood begin to seep through as his nails dug into her skin. The smug grin vanished, her face contorting with pain and she let out a long frustrated and angry growl. She used her other hand to try to prise his fingers off but his grip was vice-like, penetrating and after a moment of struggle she had no choice but to surrender. Still holding her gaze, he slowly released his grip on her wrist but not his hold on her hand while his fingers groped blindly around hers, feeling for Sara's ring.

McKay's face lit up with unexpected delight and she slipped her other hand in her pants pocket, fishing it out Sara's ring. "Is this what you're looking for?" she asked, dangling the ring in front of his face teasingly.

Grissom let go of her hand and made a swipe at the ring but McKay skipped back just far enough to be out of reach.

"Just not fast enough," she teased, lifting the ring to his eye line, smiling. "Death can never do us part," she read musingly. "In sickness and in death?" she wondered aloud with an arch of her brow. She looked up and met his gaze, waiting for him to take the bait.

He didn't.

"Are you going to propose to her?" she was now asking. "Is that it? Is that why you want the ring back so much?" She feigned a look of sorrow. "Because you know, I tried it on her and it fits her finger perfectly. It's like Cinderella's glass slipper." She slipped the ring on her own ring finger and rotated it until it sat perfectly square. "It's just a tad too loose for me." She met his furious gaze with a wicked smile, flexed her fingers while rubbing her sore wrist with her other hand. "You have a surprisingly strong grip for someone on so much pain medication," she mused with a pout.

"I want it back."

McKay's brow rose. "Just like that?"

"Just like that. It's mine and I want it back."

"Why would I do that? Why would I willingly give it back to you? What do you have to offer in exchange for this ring, huh?"

"My life, if that's what it takes."

McKay burst out in a loud chuckle. "How noble of you but that's a bit of a leap, isn't it? You'd sacrifice yourself so Sara could have a ring on her finger?" She shook her head with amusement. "Some kind of martyr? You're willing to trade your life to show your love for Sara, is that it?" The disbelief was evident in her tone. "Isn't it all a bit late for that?"

"You wouldn't know love if it hit you in the face."

That wiped the smirk off her lips. "She's as good as dead anyway. She doesn't need it."

Grissom made himself hold McKay's eyes even though her words cut him like a knife. "I'm going to get it back and that's a promise, even if I have to kill you with my bare hands."

She eyed him with a strange kind of admiration. "Hand," she corrected with a nod toward his cast. "And your left one, at that." She smiled. "But I can see you mean it. And I'm sure under different circumstances you'd be a good match."

She kept her body tantalisingly close to the bed but just far enough to be out of reach and he couldn't be sure his legs would bear his weight if he launched an attack now. She watched him for a moment longer and then pursed her face thoughtfully. "You want her to do good in death. You want her death not to be in vain. She's on the organ donation list. Am I getting warmer?" She looked into his eyes and saw the truth of her words. "Remember I read her chart. And yours."

Grissom glanced down toward the end of the bed but his medical chart had been removed, as had all his personal effects. The room had been stripped bare of all electrical and medical equipment, of anything that could be used as a weapon by McKay; even the partition curtain was gone. There was no IV line or cannula attached to his arm to facilitate the injection of drugs, even the clear nose tubing providing oxygen had been removed lest it was used for strangulation. And of course, Warrick was a heartbeat away, listening in and ready to pounce as soon as Grissom said the word.

"How?" he finally asked with narrowed eyes. Could Brass have been right about Laura after all?

McKay heaved a bored sigh. "I had a little help from a friend but you knew that already." Her hands were shaking and she held them up in front of her, turning them palm up. "I really could do with a smoke, right about now. Lack of tobacco makes me real edgy – unpredictable, almost unstable."

"A dead man's last wish is usually for a cigarette," he remarked.

"I didn't know you smoked."

Grissom couldn't help smirk at her gall. They stared in each other's eyes for a moment, neither willing to back down. McKay was the first one to break the silence, smoothing down the wrinkles of her uniform. "You like the uniform?" she asked, giving him a twirl.

Grissom didn't bother with a reply.

She shrugged and flicked her long auburn hair back from her face before moving away from the bed and casting a suspicious look around the room. Then she turned back round toward him showing discoloured teeth as she grinned. "You don't seem surprised to see me. I expect you got my message?"

"You're quite the predictable woman, Jocasta."

"You like my nom de guerre?" she asked him, obviously pleased with herself.

Grissom smiled faintly. If he wasn't at such a disadvantage he'd almost be enjoying himself. "Oedipus's mother killed herself, in the end."

McKay dipped her head in acquiescence. "She did. And so will I, in time. Soon."

There was a gleam in her eyes and Grissom knew she was speaking the truth of her own demise.

"You're very calm, very composed," she went on. "Doesn't my presence here alarm you just a little?"

"You don't scare me."

McKay mimed a look of surprise. "I should."

He shook his head in the negative. "I wanted you here. You walked straight into my trap."

She chuckled with amusement. "Did you think I wouldn't notice the tall black guy trying to look inconspicuous?" She smirked. "The bulge on his hip under the nurse's uniform stood out a little. Tasty tough," she added with a wink. "Very tasty." She sobered up quickly and sighed, conceding Grissom's original point with a nod of the head. "It's a risk I was willing to take. I figure Captain Brass'll storm the place when we're done talking?"

"That's the plan."

"I'm surprised he agreed to this little…rendez-vous. It's quite a risk you're taking with your life, almost tantamount to suicide when you think about it." Before he could reply, she added, "I couldn't resist a little grope and I took the liberty to feel you up before you…" she laughed, "woke." Repulsion filled Grissom's face and she smiled. "I'm glad to see that neither your injuries nor the subsequent operation took away any of your…ardour but I was surprised at the lack of a concealed weapon to defend yourself. Of course, you could always use your plaster cast to bash me over the head with – that is, if you're quick enough, of course."

Grissom remained silent, happy to wait until she came closer to make his move.

She took on a thoughtful expression, her eyes scanning all around the room. "No video camera or obvious listening devices either. I was rather looking forward to our dear old friend eavesdropping in our little…exchange," she said with a waggle of her eyebrows. "You know how perversion turns me on."

"How do you know that's not what's going down as we speak?" Grissom challenged.

McKay shrugged mildly. "You're a private man, Gil. You don't want your business discussed in public, recorded on a tape for all to hear and sneer at. It's just you and me in here and that's how I like it."

"One last tête-à-tête?"

She nodded her reply. "Captain Brass may think he's got me contained in here but let's not be mistaken: I'm in charge."

"It's not too late to give yourself up."

McKay erupted in a hearty fit of laughter. "Why would I do that? So I can spend the rest of my life in a six by nine feet cell with a bunch of hardened bitter lesbians?"

"I would have thought it your place of choice."

"You're funny." She swallowed, her face turning serious. "Do you know what day it is today?"

McKay's face had taken a turn Grissom didn't much care for and he frowned as he thought about her question but drawing a blank he shook his head.

She smiled uneasily. "It's exactly a year to the day since you took my prince, my Adam from me. Do you remember?"

Grissom averted his gaze downward to hide his pain. Of course, he remembered. How could he ever forget the sight of McKay's son holding a pottery shard to Sara's throat? How could he ever forget the overwhelming helplessness, the powerlessness, the abject terror that had filled him?

McKay pounced on Grissom, grabbing him by the chin and forcefully tilting his head up until he had no choice but to stare at her. Her eyes were hard and cold. "Do you remember?" she repeated into his face trough gritted teeth.

"Yes," he gritted back, jerking his head free of her grasp. "I remember." He reached out his hand to her throat but his movement was too sluggish. McKay moved out of the way and he missed. He looked at his hand with puzzlement and clenched it into a fist to stop it trembling. His eyes blurred and he blinked uncertainly, shaking his head from side to side to clear the sudden fog in his mind. When he eventually reopened his eyes, he found McKay at the end of the bed frantically rummaging inside her purse.

"Shit," she muttered to herself. "I'm out of smokes." She lifted her eyes to his and resumed her explication. "It's only fitting that on the anniversary of me losing Adam, you should lose Sara forever too."

Grissom watched her warily. Something had shifted in her demeanour. Suddenly she looked edgy and restless; her moves were becoming more erratic and he noticed the gleam of perspiration on her face. "You should have stayed in Vegas," he said, easing a look toward the top of his plaster cast while she busied herself with the purse. "Sara's not here."

She wiped her brow with a heavy hand. "Why bother with the pretence? You already know I know Sara's here. You've made it so easy for me. Both under the same roof…it's a dream come true."

"You'll never gain access to her room." Grissom's vision blurred again and he blinked a few times to clear it.

She laughed and took out a compact mirror and her lipstick from her purse. Her hands were shaking. "My original plan was simple. I'd take Sara from you and let you watch her die a slow, painful death. And I'd have watched you, while you suffered. I'd have watched you fall apart like I did until you begged me to spare her. Trade your life for hers. Take you instead. You see where I'm going with this?" she asked quietly.

Grissom rubbed his eyes vigorously. "You'll never get access."

She flipped the compact open and keeping one eye on him and the other on her face, touched up her hair. "Oh, I will. With your help, I will."

"No. Never. I'd rather die than…"

"Oh, you will," she said, uncapping and twisting the lipstick up. She paused and smiled. "We're going to go out together in a bang. You, me and Sara – straight to hell. But enough chitchat for now," she added while Grissom watched bleary-eyed as shaky hands clumsily applied a fresh coat of Manhunt Red to her lips. "This is all very well but I'm getting a little restless."

Grissom couldn't take his eyes off her lips while she talked. The badly applied rouge danced on her face acting like the proverbial red cloth in front of a bull. Images of McKay violating Sara's body, of her smearing lipstick on her perfect lips and painting her finger and toenails flashed in front of him. The Manhunt red of McKay's lips merged with the crimson red of Sara's injuries and he scrunched his eyes shut. He had to be hallucinating. He felt woozy and light-headed and sick to his stomach, the loud drumming of his heart in his ears driving him crazy, and realising that McKay had the better of him and had somehow drugged him without his knowing, he raised sorrowful eyes toward her.

She was smiling with smug pleasure. "Not long now," she told him as she quickly tossed her mirror and lipstick inside her bag. She took out a syringe and moved toward the door, cupping her ear to it.

Grissom had made a terrible miscalculation. He had to alert Warrick and soon. But first, he had to make sure he was in a position to defend himself in case McKay used him as hostage to escape. He concentrated all his senses and slowly inched his left hand to his plaster cast, his bleary eyes on McKay the whole time. He felt for the small scalpel he had hidden inside the cast and slipped it out before concealing it in the folds of the bedcovers.

McKay was back in a flash, pushing a wheelchair. "I need you to swing your legs to the edge of the bed for me," she said in her best caring nurse's voice.

Grissom blinked uncertainly, clenching his eyes shut at the two McKays and two wheelchairs suddenly dancing in front of him. "You've slipped me something," he said angrily.

"Sorry, Angel," McKay replied in a whisper, "you should have known I never play fair." She took his face in both her hands and smacked a kiss to his lips before he had time to twist his face away. "We shared more than a kiss before," she told him meaningfully and that's when he realised that she displayed the same symptoms he did and that whatever drug she'd given him she'd taken herself.

"Just a little something to take the edge off and make you more amenable to my demands," she then explained before waving the loaded syringe she held in her hand meaningfully. "Come on, be a good little boy for me and swing your legs to the side. I don't want to have to use this just yet."

Grissom grasped the scalpel with his left hand, keeping it concealed while he shuffled his legs to the edge of the bed, feigning compliance. "I'm already a dead man walking anyway," he said loudly.

Warrick's loud shouts of "LVPD!" and "McKay, drop your weapon!" immediately resonated in through the heavy door that was being battered down and McKay turned toward it with surprise. Taking advantage of the disruption, Grissom took a frenzied swipe at her with the scalpel and swung his plaster cast down hard on her arm, sending the syringe flying toward the front of the room, in effect disarming her.

McKay screamed out in pain, leaping out of the way as the scalpel sliced her cheek, and brought her hand to her face. Blood was seeping through her fingers and she looked at her hand and then at Grissom with incredulity. Her gaze turned feral, almost demonic and at that moment Grissom knew she was going to kill. "You're a dead man," she snarled furiously as she frantically scrambled for the syringe. "A dead man!" She picked it up and turned toward Grissom.

At that same moment the door burst open and Grissom's shouts of warning came far too late. Her actions fuelled by a mixture of drugs and madness, McKay launched herself forward, screaming like a lunatic as she charged. She blindly jabbed the needle into the first officer to come flying in and depressed the plunger into his neck before he'd even fully entered the room. He never stood a chance and sadly for Grissom watching through a film of blurry pictures it all happened in agonisingly slow motion.

Tears filled his eyes. "Oh, dear God, Warrick. No!"


Tbc.