It was 6pm when Greg woke up. He looked over to see Nick sitting next to the bed, asleep in the chair.

Must not have been a nightmare, Greg thought.

He quietly got out of bed and went into the bathroom. Placing his palms on the counter, he leaned in and examined his face.

"Not a thing," Greg whispered. "Not a mark to show for everything that happened today."

Then he rolled up the sleeves to his shirt and saw the proof of the attack. Scratches and some bruises, plus the general aches in his arms.

"Could be worse," Nick said, standing in the doorway.

"Yeah, I know. I just went down a flight of stairs, you went out a second story window," Greg replied.

Nick shrugged, then said, "We need to talk in a minute." He then shut the door so Greg could have his privacy.

When Greg emerged from the bathroom, the light glittered off the moisture on his face. He took off the constricting shirt and changed into a roomier button down shirt with long sleeves. He wanted to hide the injuries on his arms the best he could.

"What do we need to talk about?" Greg asked, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

"What we do from here. How do you feel about staying?" Nick counter-asked.

"He knows we're here. Probably knows what room we're in," Greg answered.

"He knows where I live in Vegas. Could probably find you easily enough. I came to a conclusion while you were sleeping. We're not safe here. Or in Vegas. As long as Crane's loose, he's gunning for us."

"And everyone back at CSI would probably get dragged into this. Like I said before, he's not just after you now. He'll go after anyone connected to you," Greg commented.

"Which means if we drag him back to Vegas, Catherine, Sara, Warrick and Grissom will probably become targets," Nick replied, following Greg's line of thought.

"We're probably better off here. I just don't know how we can handle him," Greg said.

"Involve the local police?" Nick asked.

"I guess," Greg replied.

The phone ringing disturbed their conversation. Taking his cell phone from his pocket, Nick answered it.

"It's Grissom," his supervisor said. I've got some news for you. But I need to fax it over. Do you know the fax number to the hotel?"

"It's gotta be somewhere around here. Talk to Greg while I find it," Nick replied, handing the phone to Greg.

"Hi," he said meekly.

"How are you feeling?" Grissom asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"Been better, but I know it could've been worse," Greg answered. "How are things in Vegas?"

"Not much as changed since you two left. Although I think Catherine might lose her temper with the kid they've got in your lab."

*My* lab, Greg smiled. He liked the sound of that.

"Tell her I'll make it up to her when I get back," Greg replied.

"So, have you two decided on your plans?" Grissom asked.

"We're going to stay. Crane's after anyone connected to Nick now, so we just thought it would be better if we stayed. Kept him away from everyone else."

"I'll arrange to have someone go out there. To keep an eye out. I'm not sure who yet, but I'll let you know," Grissom replied.

"I'll let Nick know."

"Got it!" Nick exclaimed, holding his hand out for the phone.

"Nick's got something for you," Greg said, then handed the phone back to Nick.

"The fax number is 802-555-4659," Nick said.

"Ok, I'll get the information to you now. Should be there in a few minutes," Grissom replied.

"Thanks, I'll be on the lookout for it."

"Take care of yourselves. And be on guard. He's around," Grissom said grimly.

"We will. Now that we know he's here, we'll be extra careful," Nick replied.

After hanging up the phone, Greg filled Nick in on his conversation with Grissom. Then Nick did the same.

"Now what?" Greg asked.

"Dinner. And some fax reading," Nick answered.

The pair left the room, making sure the door was shut tight. At the front desk, Nick picked up the faxes and inquired as to how many keycards were issued for their room.

"Three were issued," the lady answered.

"There were only supposed to be two. One for me and one for Greg Sanders," Nick replied, turning to find Greg sitting in a chair behind him, reading a brochure.

"We can issue new keycards. I just need the two you both have," the lady said.

Nick took his keycard from his pocket and placed it on the counter. He got Greg's and placed it next to his.

"Here are your new keycards. The one floating around out there is no longer active," the lady said.

"Great, thanks," Nick said.

Greg stood when he heard Nick's last sentence. He slowly walked over and stood next to Nick, who was glancing over the faxes.

"Should be an interesting read," Nick commented.

"Thrilling," Greg dryly replied.

"Come on, let's see what's for dinner," Nick suggested.

Placing a hand between Greg's shoulders, Nick guided him to the elevators. Although Greg would never admit it, he was in worse shape than he let on. A dull headache that began when he first sat up in bed was now a blaring migraine. He just hoped he'd make through dinner without passing out. And Nick knew that Greg wasn't as well as he said he was.

And we'll both be a lot worse if Crane isn't stopped and soon, Nick thought as they got on the elevator.

Just as the doors began to close, a hand came between the doors. The doors automatically reopened. Nick's eyes widened when he saw the body and face that the hand belonged to.

"Mind if I get on?" Nigel Crane asked with a sick smile.