Running Disclaimer: CSI and Without a Trace are the property of their respective owners.  I own nothing. Spoilers: CSI up to Play with Fire, WaT first season

Summary: WIP.  CSI / WaT crossover.  Set after CSI PwF and WaT Fallout 2.  It's easier to run than to act.

A/N: This is the final chapter.  Thanks to everyone who reviewed, comment or just read this story.  To the people at Maple Street for just being so amazing and supportive.

Las Vegas Crime Lab, Grissom's office

May 15, 3.30 p.m.

On the surface almost nothing had changed.  His life continued in the same routine as always.  He went to work.  He went home, showered, ate, read, took care of his household chores and went to bed.  Sara's disappearance had altered nothing.  But on the inside, everything seemed different. 

If the team was talking about it, then he didn't know.  There was nothing to talk about.  It was just incomprehensible and real at the same time.  In their profession they weren't  new to the cruelties of mankind.  But being at the other end changed everything.  Grissom thought, that he knew, that he could see this as another case, but he couldn't.  Part of him berated him for being so taken out of balance.  He worked with Sara, he would say that they were friends.  But in reality, he knew nothing about her.  He had become painfully aware of that when the FBI agents had been in town asking everyone from Sara's life.  He knew her from work, knew her professional history, her manner of working, but not what she did during the rare times when she wasn't working.  He had always assumed that her life followe3d a routine similar to that of his own life, but now he had started to question that belief.  Had Sara led a life he had been completely ignorant about? He sighed, closing the file he was working on.  He had been working fiercely those last few days.  But his attempts to distract himself had only worked to an extent.  He just couldn't ignore what had happened.  The question in his mind where always there, impossible to shut out.  The phone on his desk rang.  The sound startled him, sending a wave of unknown fear through him.  It had been like that every time the phone had rung since he knew of Sara's disappearance.  He dreaded the call that would bring him the news that he delivered to families every day.  This couldn't be it.  He picked up on the third ring, knowing that he had to answer eventually.  It was Mr.  Sidle.  Grissom took a deep breath, waiting for whatever news he would learn in the coming seconds.  He knew that whatever it was, he would have to do something.  He just hoped it wasn't going to be too late.

FBI Missing Persons Unit, New York City

May 15, 4.35 p.m.

Danny was working on his report, part of the inevitable paperwork that followed every case, when he saw a familiar form slowly traverse the office,

„Martin? Man, what are you doing here?" he was surprised at seeing him at the office after the last time he had seen him, he had been on his way to the hospital after the shooting in the morning.

"I was just talking to OPR." Martin's tone didn't convey any hint on how it had gone.  All Danny could pick up was fatigue.

"You sure you're okay? You don't look too good."

"Considering the day I had." Martin said grimly and proceeded to head out the door.  Danny followed him.

"Is Sara going to be okay?"

"Yes.  Vivian is over at the hospital to see whether she's up to talk to us yet.  But the case is closed.  Christine Watts took her because she thought that Sara was having an affair with her husband.  That's what we'll be on the case reports.  What really happened, we'll never know." Danny gave him the quick run-down of the case.

Even tired and worn out, Martin seemed to sense that Danny wasn't happy with this version of the case.

"You don't think that's what happened?"

"Sure, she took her, but she had to have help.  Going back to the hotel as Sara, using her phone and her credit card isn't something you think of when you react in panic.  That's cold-blooded planning.  And that's where I think our criminalist Dr.  Watts comes in.  He somehow learn what happened, maybe he was there when his wife met Sara, maybe he wasn't.  But in any case, he figure that it's going to make him appear in a bad light, a career killer if he ever becomes a suspect.  So he help his wife cover it up.  It's in his best interest that Sara is never found.  It just goes wrong somewhere and Sara doesn't end up dead in Central Park, but alive at the wife's parents' house.  Major mess-up.  Point is that we can't find Dr.  Watts anywhere.  We're keeping tabs on his credit cards, but we have no warrant.  Insufficient evidence, the DA said." Danny was angry at the bureaucratic hurdles that would allow the bad guy to get away and escape responsibility.

"Do we have anything at him?" Danny frustration seemed to transfer to Martin. It was very unsatisfying for everyone when the real culprit got away.

"Not much. According to the travel agent where her ticket was bought, a man ordered the ticket over the phone. They are sure it wasn't her. Then there was the phone call, we know that Christine used to mobile phone after Sara's disappearance to call her husband. That at least proves that he knew something. And there is the fact that we can't find him anymore. But the DA obviously doesn't want to get into hot water for issuing a warrant for the house of the crime labs vice-director."

"Mhhmm." Martin mumbled only half listening.  His ribs were killing him and the painkillers he'd gotten from the hospital did little in that regard.  The only noticeable effect that they had produced was making him incredibly tired.  The case was over and all he wanted was to get home and call it a day.

"You better get home.  But.." Danny suddenly interrupted and Martin looked up to see why.  Jack was heading in their direction, looking everything but pleased.  The expression seemed to harder when he set eyes on Martin.  Martin involuntarily flashed back to the last time he'd encountered Jack.  He was sure that this time, he wasn't going to get off the hook that easily.  Although, he knew that he'd  been out of line earlier, he couldn't help but feel anger rise again.  Anger at the lack of responsibility, anger at how Jack seemed to be playing games with their lives.  He had to keep his anger in check or he might get himself into serious trouble.  Danny saved him for the moment by asking Jack some question.  Martin didn't listen, he used the opportunity to slip past his co-workers out into the hallway.  Jack was the last person he wanted to deal with right now.  He would have to somewhere down the line, but not now.

Mount Sinai Hospital, New York City

May 15, 5.20 p.m.

One look and Sara knew where she was.  Off-white walls, nightstand, faint neon light, muffled humming and beeping sounds from outside: a hospital.  But how exactly had she gotten there? There was images flashing in her mind, but they went so quickly that she didn't stand a chance to hold on to them to take a closer look.  Sounds, she recalled sounds, shouting, gun shots, someone telling her that it was going to be okay.  There had been a loud crash, an explosion of light, flying glass, fire, the smell of smouldering plastic.  None of that made sense.  Sara sighed as her dull headache started to intensify.  She was tired, almost to tired to care about what had happened.  Just sleep and forget.  Although she didn't know why, she had the lingering feeling of past horrors, of demons lurking in the buried memories.  She wanted to get away from them, sleep ands hope they would never catch up with her.

Outside FBI Missing Persons Unit, New York City

May 15,  8.15 p.m.

When Jack walked across the department parking garage, he felt oddly relieved.  It was finally slowing down.  Ever since the bookstore incident he had had the feeling that his life was spinning out of control on all fronts.  Everything which had already been , had cracked.  What had happened during the shooting was just the worst example.  As unfair and anger fuelled Martin's accusations had been, he had a point.  Jack hadn't acted responsibly and as a consequence had neglected his job and had started to make mistakes which out others in danger.  It had all gone wrong, gone the way it shouldn't have.  Without thinking, he didn't head home, he took the other turn in direction of the hospital.  In that moment it became clear to Jack that the decision had been made all along.  Every action had been one step down the path to where he was standing now.  His marriage with Marie had been decaying for a long time.  By the time he had gotten personally involved with Samantha it had already been over.  Probably even for years before that.  He couldn't just go back and ignore all that.  Neither could Marie.  She had made it clear to him that she wasn't going to.  Jack sighed, as he turned into the hospital parking lot.  He had not only his marriage to deal with and Samantha, but also the professional fallout from the shooting.  The next weeks, maybe even months would be hard, not just for him, but for everyone.  Whether they wanted to admit it or not, Barry Mashburn had affected them all in some way.  Bur running away wasn't a solution, as appealing as it felt it time, there was no real escape.  Eventually it always came back to them.  That was clear to him now.  He'd stopped running.