A/N: I fixed Interlude 9 this weekend. Sorry about the mistake. So if you want to read about Ethan's birth go check it out. An please let me know if I mix up chapters again.

Today was going to be a bad day. Greg wanted to be anywhere but at the lab today. He hadn't eaten or slept much in the past 2 days, and he already knew today would be a bad day. Russel walked up to him.

"Hey, you good." Greg shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Russel scanned him.

"Alright," Russell handed over a file. "Here, the guy is waiting for you at the station to be processed." Greg glanced over the file and turned to walk away, but Russell grabbed his arm. "Listen, if you or Alison need anything, you let me know." Greg nodded.

"Thanks, we're fine." Greg walked down the hallway. They weren't fine. Today was the day that this little test would get its results. Mac and Danny were waiting for a latter back in New York, and Nick was working with Alison today, making sure nothing got past him. Greg just wanted sleep, but the nightmares for them both had come back. Ethan was staying with Hodges and Wendy tonight, but Greg still felt uneasy. He took a drink of water, grateful that he could keep something down. The stress had been building, and the thought of eating anything was out of the question. He walked over to the officer.

"Russell sent me down."

"So, you get the political one," Greg smirked.

"Some councilman's car gets totaled. Well, you can assure him that we will get justice." Greg walked into the interrogation room. "Hello, my name is Greg Sanders. I'm going to process you and then get out of your hair." The kid rolled his eyes.

"I'm just glad they didn't send Stokes," Greg smirked.

"Yeah, he'd be real, thrilled that you left the straight and narrow that he put you on."

"It was just a bit of fun." Greg sat in the chair across from him.

"Well, the fun's over." His words were punctuated by a gunshot. Greg shot out of his chair, reaching for his gun before remembering he couldn't bring it in the interrogation room. The shots continued. The door to the room opened. A kid in a vest walked in, pointing a gun at Greg.

"Okay, easy." Two more shots went off, and yeah, today was going to be a bad day.

Alison pressed her hands in her pocket, clenching her hand around the small object. Today was just like another day. That is what she had to tell herself. She was going fine. She had been down this road before. Greg, on the other hand, was making her nervous. He was the one that had been having nightmares. Sure, she had hers, but his had started first. She reached out to begin working on the victim's computer when there was a quiet knock on the door. Glancing up, she smiled at Nick.

"So, babysitting begins." There was no response. "You don't have to hide it. I know Greg wants you to keep an eye on me. I'll have you know that I plan to stay right here in this lab for the entire day. And Greg already searched the place." The silence made Alison look up and freeze. Nick looked like he was going to be sick. "What's up." Her voice shook.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but Greg's being held, hostage." Alison raised an eyebrow.

"I thought he was processing people at the station all day. That's why he asked you to stay with me." Nick walked over to her.

"It's at the station." Alison sucked in a sharp breath. Nick held out his hands, not touching her, ready to grab her if her legs gave out.

"I was going to head over to PD right now to help. But I wanted to tell you." Alison reached over, shutting the laptop.

"I'm coming too." Nick shut his eyes.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"You don't think I could help." Nick shook his head.

"That's not what I said."

"Then we're going."

Greg leaned against the wall, trying to focus. Read hot pain shot up his side.

"Why'd you shoot me." The kid Greg had been processing screamed out. His name was Jacob, according to the file. He was pressing his hand to his shoulder.

"I didn't shoot you." The kid with the gun called out. Greg watched the kid. He was clutching his side.

"You got hit, didn't you." Greg said, pressing his hand to his side.

"The police are shooting in here. You probably got it the same time as the rest of us." Jacob whimpered, and Greg moved closer to him.

"Hey!" The kid with the gun called out. "Back against the wall." The kid took off his coat, revealing a bulletproof vest. The lucky kid probably had a cracked rib or something. Greg's phone started ringing.

"You're going to have to let me answer that," Greg said to the kid.

"I told you no." He growled out. Greg squeezed his eyes shut as he adjusted on the floor, fighting a wave of nausea.

"Let me," he took in a deep breath. "Let me tell you how this works. If I don't answer this pretty soon, cops are going to think I'm dead." Greg opened his eyes. "They're going to think he's dead." He pointed over at Jacob. "And then it's not gonna just be a couple of rounds. They're gonna light this place up." The kid stared at Greg.

"Well, maybe that's what I want." The kid was cold and detached. "You think I didn't know I was gonna die today?"

Alison and Nick walked into the command center where Brass was.

"Hey, did you talk to Greg?" Nick asked. Brass looked at them.

"No. He-he's not picking up." The SWAT leader shook his head.

"Yeah. Well, radio silence usually means one thing: Guy's not giving up. If your CSI's still alive, best chance to save him…tactical entry."

"That is a negative.

We're not there yet, Dolan." Brass said. Dolan shook his head.

"If we are, we're going to be too late." Alison flinched.

"Yeah," Nick shouted, turning to Dolan. "And if we go in too early, everybody gets killed, so why don't you just back off." Brass looked at Alison.

"I hate to do this, but the camera feed is going to the observation room. Do you think you can rework it here?" Alison glanced at the computer.

"Yes, whatever you need."

"It's so cold in here," Jacob moaned. Greg couldn't argue with him. It felt like he was locked in a freezer.

"Listen, he needs a doctor." Greg said to their captor.

"He's all right." The kid dismissed.

"Oh, yeah, g-g-great." Jacob stammered out.

"I'm gonna take a look at him," Greg said, moving over to Jacob.

"Hey!" The kid shouted, pointing his gun at Greg. "You don't move!" Greg ignored him.

"Listen, I don't know what your problem is. I don't know why you're doing this. But it has nothing to do with Jacob here." Greg said, moving closer to Jacob. "You've got the gun. You're in change. Besides, I don't think you want to see him suffer." The kid placed his neckless in his mouth.

"All right." Greg took moved to take his coat off, then saw his own blood and instead grabbed Jacob's

"This is going to hurt." Greg moved Jacob causing him to scream.

"Was that really necessary?" Greg ripped the shirt into pieces.

"You're very lucky."

"How's getting shot luck."

"It went straight through, so all we have to do is stop the bleeding." Greg wrapped the kid's shoulder then rested his head on the cold wall fighting the nausea.

"What about you." Jacob said, his voice low.

"I'm fine," Greg said, forcing a smile. Greg leaned back against the wall. "So, what's you're name." He asked the kid.

"What's it to you."

"It makes for an easier conversation, that's all."

"You, first."

"My name's Sanders. Greg Sanders. Your turn." The kid was sizing Greg up.

"No uniform no suit. No gun. You're not a cop." The kid was wrong, but Greg didn't feel like correcting him.

"I'm a CSI." Greg took a deep breath. "That's why you didn't shoot me. you got a beef just with cops?" The kid laughed.

"CSI, huh? Like a science guy." Greg nodded. "Makes sense. Looked like you know what you're doing." He gestured at Jacob."

"I know first aid if that's what you're asking. But that doesn't mean that Jacob here needs a doctor."

"How's that camera feed coming." Alison's hands flew over the keys.

"It looks like I can only get you to picture no sound. There's been hardwired in, and I can't grab it." She said, fighting back the frustration.

"I'll take anything you can get." Brass's phone started to ring. Alison ignored it. She just wanted to see if Greg was alright. "Greg." Alison's fingers froze over her computer for a heartbeat. Then the image came up. Alison snapped her fingers so Brass and Nick could see. Alison grabbed the headphones on the desk so she could hear Greg's side of the phone call.

"Yeah, Brass. We got you on speakerphone here just so you know." Alison watched as Greg slid the phone to the center of the room.

"What's your status." Brass asked.

"Uh, I think we're okay…for the moment. I do have a young man… Jacob here, who needs medical attention." Alison pressed her lips together. There was something not right about Greg's tone. She glanced at Nick, and he nodded, noticing it too. "But our friend with the gun here is not comfortable bringing a doctor in." Brass pointed at the screen, and Alison zoomed in on the kid with the gun.

"We can get you anything you need. Food, water…medical supplies."

"Alright, I think we've agreed on that."

"So, I guess the young man with the gun is listening on speaker?"

"Yeah." The kid said. "I'm here. What do you want?"

"Well, I was gonna ask you the same thing." The kid smiled, and Alison shivered.

"What do I want."

"Yeah, what do you want."

"Nothing."

"What's your name, son?" Greg shook his head.

"Yeah, we-we already tried that, Brass." Greg tilted his head. "What do you want?" The kid's eyes were locked on Greg.

"Maybe one thing a laptop."

Jacob winced.

"The pain's getting worse." He said, his breathing picking up. Greg placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, the meds will get here soon. It will be alright." Greg glanced at the kid. "You know you only need one of us." The kid leaned forward.

"True, but isn't he more valuable than you? Being a civilian and all."

Alison's eyes were locked on the scene. The lighting in there was wrong with the power shut off. Greg was leaning against the wall next to Jacob. He shut his eyes for a second, and Alison's hands went cold.

"What is it," Nick asked, seeing the change in here.

"Greg's hurt." Nick moved over to see what she was looking at.

"He didn't say anything."

"Maybe he's trying to keep it from the shooter." She pointed at his face. "There, did you see it? He winced." Nick shook his head.

"He's in black, so there's no telling if he was shot or if it's just his knee." Brass walked back over to them.

"Okay…Alright, we've cleared the building. Now we need a plan to get Sanders and Jacob out of there." Alison looked over at him.

"Alive." Brass nodded.

"Alive." An officer walked in.

"Sir, you wanted sound. I put a mic inside this epinephrine injector. I figured we could get it to Sanders with the rest of the medical supplies." Brass took it.

"Nice work Dunn. Now we need a way to let Sanders know that there's a microphone implanted in this device." Alison stood up, looking at it.

"I can take care of it." Brass glanced at Nick.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Alison crossed her arms.

"The kid wanted a woman to deliver the goods, and I have every motivation for it to go well." Brass took a deep breath.

"Very well." Alison grabbed her vest and the medical bag. Heading for the interrogation room.

"CSI Sanders ready for transfer." An officer called out. Alison waited for a heartbeat then slowly walked to the door. As she neared, a laser appeared on her chest.

"Laser, no sudden moves." An officer called out. The laser moved from her chest to her head.

"Put down the bag." A kid's voice called out from the room. "And the laptop." Alison did as she was told. "Put your hands to the sides and turn around slowly." Alison complied.

"I'm not armed." Alison said when she was finished.

"Just here with your delivery." The door opened, and Greg appeared. Alison had to swallow at the sight of him. He was pail, and the side of his dark clothes were soaked from blood. Greg took a few shaky steps toward her. "Glad to see you." She said. "How bad it is."

"Fine you." Alison glanced behind her.

"Pretty bad." Alison picked up the bag and laptop. "It's all here: Food, water… meds." Alison reached into her pocket. "I grabbed your epinephrine from your desk." Greg took it with blood-stained hands.

"I'll keep it close by, thanks." Alison handed over the rest of the supplies. Greg growled through gritted teeth. She had to resist the urge to touch him.

"What's the hold-up." The kid called out.

"No, hold up. I'm coming back in." Greg looked at Alison, and she nodded. Greg slowly backed to the room. Leaning against the wall once he got near, and then he was gone. Alison slowly backed away, making her way to the command center where Nick and Brass were waiting.

"You good," Nick asked, and she shook her head.

"He's been shot."

Greg placed a bandage on Jacob's shoulder. He had done a quick patch to himself, glad that his own wound was also a through and through. It wasn't his best work, but Jacob couldn't really help. Greg sported the kid grab the EpiPen.

"Hey, can you help me?" The kid looked up at him in disgust.

"I'm not asking you to perform the surgery; I just need you to hand him some water while I work on this." The kid dropped the pen and handed over one of the waters. The kid dropped out of his mouth. "Saint Christopher," Greg said, identifying the image on the metal.

"Yeah. So how would you know." Greg smiled.

"My wife's family is Catholic. It just looked like it was important to you. That's all. My wife used to have one of those. It was for St. Jude."

"Good for her." Greg poured the water on Jacob's wound to clean it. Jacob winced but didn't call out the pain meds he had taken were helping.

"St. Christopher, he's the one for protection. My brother-in-law has that one. His wife gave it to him to protect him at work. Who gave you your?" The kid glared at him.

"I told you this whole Let's have a conversation thing isn't going to work." Greg adjusted, leaning back against the walk shutting his eyes.

"It's going to make for a long evening."

"Maybe." Greg cracked one of his eyes open. "Maybe not."

"Come on, dude," Jacob said. "Don't be such a tool." Greg opened both his eyes at that. "I'm just saying. If this was supposed to be a suicide mission, then why aren't you dead?" Greg watched the kid.

"You know, I think you're wondering the same thing. I think there's someone out there you don't want to hurt." Greg took in a deep breath. "You know someone worried about you. Maybe the same person who gave you that medal." The kid pointed the gun at Greg.

"I'm thinking you should shut up." An idea popped into Greg's head.

"Oh, dear." He turned to Jacob. "Here, hold this," Greg said, handing the kid the bottle he had been using. Then he took it back, being careful not to obscure any of the prints left in the blood. However, the kid had his eyes locked in the blood that was left on his hands. He scooted back to his corner.

Alison stood next to Nick, watching the woman be led in by officers.

"That the kid's mother, Cinthia Powell." He explained.

"Does she have any idea why her son might do something like this?"

"No." Nick shook his head. "She talked to Brass. She's still in shock. She says she doesn't even own a gun. Had no clue how her son would be able to get his hands on an arsenal like this."

"Who's processing their house?"

"Morgan. And she also told Brass that the kid used the family van. Patrol found it a couple of blocks from here. Impounds bringing it in right now." Nick said.

"I'm on it." Nick looked at her.

"Are you sure?" Alison took a deep breath.

"Nick, I can't just sit here and what for something to happen I need to do something. Brass doesn't need my help with the computers anymore. I can patch the audio to the shop so I can still stay up to date. I'm going crazy sitting around."

"Alright, I'll let you know what I can find out here."

"Thanks, Nick."

Greg's phone began to ring, forcing himself to open his eyes. Had he fallen asleep? He couldn't tell. Moving slowly, he growled as he picked up the phone. He held it up so the kid could see who was calling.

"Yeah…yeah, go ahead, answer it." The kid said.

"Yeah, Brass," Greg said, his voice slightly horse.

"Well, I assume that the young man is listening over the speaker?"

"Yes, he is."

"I have someone who wants to speak with him." A woman's voice came one.

"Mark, sweetheart, it's me." Fear shot through Mark's face.

"Mom W-w-what are you doing here?!" He moved closer to the phone. "The police found me."

"What how." Mark glanced over at the water bottle seeing the clearly marked fingerprint.

"It doesn't matter, sweetheart." Greg grew tense as he could see Mark making connections. He looked up at the camera. "You need to let those people go. You've got to stop this." Mark looked at Greg and cursed.

"You played me. You think I'm an idiot…." Greg gripped his side.

"No…No, I don't, Mark. I just think you need help, that's all."

"Mark!" he recoiled back. "You got my name. You found my mother, but you don't know who I am!" He smacked the phone out of Greg's weak hand, standing up. "But the worlds going to know 'cause you know why?!" He pointed the gun at Greg's head. "'cause it's over." He turned and shot the camera. Greg's ears were ringing.

"Mark, don't do you anything that we're all going to regret." Greg forced himself to his feet, fighting the wave of nausea. He leaned against the wall, not being able to support himself.

"We are way past that."

"Actually, no, we're not, but we will be. in about five seconds, there gonna come busting through that room, and then we're all dead." Greg held up the phone he had retrieved from the ground. "Unless you let me call them off." Greg took a deep breath. It was getting harder to do that. "What's it gonna be?" Mark glanced at the door then lowered the gun. Greg relaxed, sliding back to the ground. "Brass, we're okay. Do you copy me?"

"What's going on in their Sanders."

"There was a disagreement, that's all." Greg looked at the kid. "Mark and I are working it out. I'm gonna need a few minutes. I will call you back." Mark glared at him.

"You and I have nothing to say."

"Powell's mother said she hadn't seen much of him the past couple of weeks," Alison said, opening the back of the van. "Now we know why. He's been living in here." Finn looked at the art on the walls. "Usual amount to teen spirit."

"And teen angst." She started filling through a notebook.

"Self-hatred, depression. From looking at this, I'd say that he's more likely to commit suicide than homicide." Alison started taking pictures.

"Looks like he found another outlet for his feelings," Alison said.

"He downloaded blueprint of the PD from county archives. He's been planning this for a while."

"But not planning it alone." Alison jumped at Morgan's sudden voice behind her. Morgan placed a laptop on the table. "Take a look at this. There are ae hundreds of e-mails. And IMs going back and forth between Powell and this username LookingGlass419." She opened one up. "This e-mail exchange is from four months ago. Saw another po-po shooting on the news. Homeless guy shot 16 times. Since when is sleeping on a bench a crime?" Alison read the part Powell wrote.

"5-0 got no respect."

"Maybe someone needs to teach 'em some." Finn read the response.

"More e-mails like that." Morgan explained. "LookingGlass talks about how much he hates the cops.

Powell agrees. Then LookingGlass suggests a plan. To attack police stations. Some kind of suicide pact." Finn shook her head.

"Powell's suicidal, but he wouldn't be able to do this on his own. He needs an alpha, someone to give him a sense of purpose and meaning in his life. That he's missing." Morgan nodded.

"This last e-main exchange is from ten days ago." She read what LookingGlass sent. "It's on I selected a target you in?" then Powell's response. "Bring the pain. Let them never forget. LookingGlass: I got guns, burner phones from now on total radio silence." Finn crossed her arms.

"All right, so we know Powell's part of the plan." Alison tilted her head.

"Now, what about LookingGlass? What's his target. Which police station? And when's he going to strike?"

Jacob moaned, pulling Greg from his thought.

"This really hurts." Greg shook his head.

"Sorry, you tapped out on the pain meds. I can give you any higher dose." They were also out, which is why Greg hadn't taken any. Mark pulled out his phone. And the pieced started to fit together.

"You're not looking yourself up on the computer." Mark put the neckless in his mouth again, ignoring Greg. "Is there someone else out there? Someone, who's gonna do the same thing you just did?"

"Just shut up, man." Mark's voice was thick. "You don't know a thing."

"You've changed."

"Shut up," Mark said, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You said you wanted to die today, but something's different. I know a little something about the will to survive, and I think I'm seeing that in you right now. You want to survive, don't you?" Greg coughed, squeezing his eyes shut. Not now he was getting so close.

"What's wrong." Greg pulled up his shirt, revealing the gunshot.

"There's flued building up, and it's getting harder for me to breath." Worry filed Mark's eyes.

"Then do something." Greg gave the kid a sad smile.

"I can't, Jacob, and I need a doctor." Mark opened his mouth, but nothing came out. There Greg had his attention. "Listen, Jacob was shot by a cop, and if you let him die, it's not going to be on them. It's going to be on you. Let him go; I will stay."

Alison was waiting for the results to come up on who LookingGlass was. Finn walked over to her.

"They were able to take Jacob out." She said.

"Greg stayed." Alison had heard the conversation over the radio and Greg's coughing fit.

"How are you holding up." Alison let out a breath.

"Trying not to think about it." The results came up, and Alison cursed, causing Finn to look at her.

"What is it." Alison tilted the screen so she could see.

"The IP address matched PD. LookingGlass is a cop." All the color drained from Finn's face.

"I'll call Brass. You pull up what desk."

"Already doing it."

Mark slammed the laptop closed.

"Not happening, is it?" Greg said. "Whatever it is you're waiting for." Mark stood up. "Or whoever it is you're waiting for." Mark pulled out his phone, bouncing on his feet.

"No i-it will; we had a plan. He won't let me down." Greg was having a hard time focusing.

"I think he already has." He coughed, wincing in pain. "And I think you know that." Mark slammed the phone shut. "Mark, I know it seems like there's no way out right now, but there is."

"There isn't. Yeah, I blew away a bunch of cops! They're just going to kill me." Greg held up a hand. It was so heavy.

"Not if you walk out with me."

"And then what?" Mark sniffled. "Do you think I'm crazy?" Greg met the kid's eyes.

"No, I don't."

"That's too bad. It's looking like that's all I got left, you know? Some kind of insanity plea. I just don't want to spend the rest of my life in a cage." He was starting to spiral.

"It's not about what you want. You gave that up when you walked in here." Mark glared at him. "I'm not gonna lie to you. There are gonna be consequences, obviously, but if you choose to live, you can make something out of that life." Mark walked over, kneeling in front of Greg and pointing the gun at his own head.

"And what if I don't." All the pain vanished from Greg as he leaned forward.

"Don't you do that?" Mark started into his eyes. Greg held his breath.

"Okay, I won't," He handed over the gun. Greg took it, then Mark pulled out another one pointing it at Greg. "You're going to." Mark's hands were shaking. "Kill me, or I will kill you." Greg set the gun down.

"I have enough blood on my hands. No one else is gonna die here today." Mark slowly gave over the last gun and dropped into Greg's lap, crying. Greg ignored the pain wrapping his arms around the kid. They stayed there for a few minutes. Then it was time to go. Mark helped Greg to his feet, taking his wait.

"We're coming out." Greg called out. They opened the door and were met with bright lights.

"Greg, I need you to step aside." Brass called out.

"I'm gonna need help." Nick slowly walked over to him, taking his wait. They moved out of the line of fire but not too far that Mark couldn't see them.

"Mark, do exactly what I tell you." Brass called out. "Put your hands behind your back and interlock your fingers." Mark looked over at Greg, who nodded. Mark did as he was told.

"Get down on your knees." Again, he looked to Greg, who nodded. Greg could feel the stress and fear building in the kid. "Lay down on your chest." Mark froze, the fear getting the best of him.

"On your chest," another officer called out." Mark pulled his hand out and reached into his vest in an instant. Greg lurched for him, but his legs gave out, and Nick had to firm a grip on him. It was too late. The kid was dead. An officer walked over to Mark. Confirming that he was killed. Greg shut his eyes.

"He was going for his neckless." He said, gasping for breath.

"What?" Nick said. Greg saw spots.

"When he was nervous, he would put his neckless in his mouth. It was a habit." His legs entirely gave out, and Nick lowered him to the ground.

"Hey, Greg, stay with me." Greg started coughing. He couldn't seem to get any air. Then darkness.

One of the officers who died tonight's wife had been LookingGlass. She had purposely placed her husband on desk duty for Mark would shoot him. It made Alison's side. Nick had taken Greg to the, and she had met them there. Greg didn't need surgery, thankfully. Alison sat next to Greg in the hospital room. Ethan was asleep on her chest. No matches to break the silence. She was in the process of nodding off herself. Greg was already asleep. The pain meds the doctor had given him knocked him out. Her body was so tired from the long stressful day. Greg had told her to take Ethan home so she wouldn't have to sit in the hospital. However stressful it was for Alison to sit in the hospital, it was canceled out by having Ethan in her arms and Greg sitting next to her. She glanced over at the flowers on the nightstand. They had been brought for Greg earlier. Reaching over, being careful not to disturb her boys, she grabbed the card. Flipping it open, she froze.

"Top Drawer." Two words that evaporated any peace that she had. She slowly moved her hand to open the drawer with a shaky hand. Where she found the letter. She had forgotten. Since it all had happened, she had completely forgotten about the letter for the first time. The event of today's head doesn't that.

She grabbed the letter knowing that there was no evidence on it. He was too good to leave something like that. She glanced over at Greg. She could hide it tell him that it didn't come. They could stay out here in Las Vegas. Working at the lab and only visits her family on occasion. Ethan could have a yard to play in and not share a room with any future siblings. Yes, she got a letter here, but there were no memories in this city. The lab was a blank slate. She was the new person and not Greg. He might acutely get to do a book tour. She would be fine staying here by herself. What a strange thought to think of Las Vegas safer than her home in New York, where her father was the police commissioner. Alison looked back at the letter. Everyone would understand. She needed to get out of town. That was why they came here in the first place. Making it more permanent wouldn't be out of the normal. Alison looked back at the letter in her hand.

He had found her, though. In a town where her name hadn't been put on any documents. Where she had not testified. Where she and Greg had rented a house under a different name. He had been able to find her. It made no sense. How could he have done that? And at that moment, Alison knew there was no running. She was still his prisoner, and there was nothing she could do to be free.

Greg opened his eyes to find Alison asleep with Ethan in her arms. He smiled, watching them. It was the most beautiful thing in the world. The way Alison held and looked at Ethan was different than anyone else in the world. He didn't know her story, and she didn't have to tell him. Greg rubbed his side. It was going to be uncomfortable getting on a plane in a few…. Greg's eyes that had been drifting closed snapped open. The letter. He looked over at Alison. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He relaxed back into the bed. It had worked. Maybe they needed to move, not necessarily to Las Vegas but somewhere else. Perhaps he could start writing full-time. But he couldn't see Alison ever leaving her family. Or the Reagan's leaving New York. To be honest, it had become home to him too. He would have to think about this. Maybe he and Alison could talk about their ideas on the flight back. Greg's mind started to wander, and it slowly started to process the events of the day, and he felt sick. The cries of Mark filled his mind. If he had done something different, maybe he would still be alive. He had been manipulated. Greg opened his eyes. He wanted to move, but his body and the doctor wouldn't let him. Greg glanced over at the set of flowers on the table. They were Roses. He titled his head. He wondered who had sent them. Most people knew not to send roses. Not because they knew about the sent causing Alison issues. He told everyone she was allergic. He reached over, wincing as he grabbed the card. Reading it, Greg had to fight the urge to crumple it up.

"He found me." Greg looked over at Alison's voice. It was quiet, not wanting to wake Ethan up.

"I don't understand we were so careful." Alison smiled at him.

"He always finds a way."

She rubbed Ethan's back. "Life can go back to normal for another year." Greg pressed his lips together.

"Don't you want him to be caught?" Alison tilted her head as if she was thinking over the answer.

"I want life to be normal."