Disclaimer: Yeah I own this - in an alternate universe where I've married
Greg as well!
A/N: Hey all. I said I wouldn't be too long updating. I'm going back to school on Friday * groan * (who's bright idea was it to send us back the day before the weekend!), but I'm hoping to update with another chapter before then. I'm still wondering what happened to summer! Thanks for all who reviewed the last chapter: candaceFABULOUS, MissyJane, The Madhatter2, ArodLoverus2001, Sprinkles143, Stokes-CSI3 and SisterBear. You guys are great. Please keep them coming. Well, on with the plot and Sara's sticky situation. R&R and ENJOY!! - Bex :o)
It was either the same killer or a conspiracy. Once more they had a crime scene lacking in evidence: only a set of keys, small blood sample - believed to be Sara's - and a whole lot of nothing. Grissom had quickly handed Greg the blood sample, stressing its importance even though the lab tech already knew. Also, in his frustration, he'd ordered Warrick to search the SUV as thoroughly as possible - dismantling it if needed. He didn't want the slightest chance left that they had missed something. Cath was busy trying to contact everyone or anyplace Sara might have gone to. Through the break room window, he watched Nick as he paced back and forth; at the rate he was going, he would soon wear a hole in the carpet.
"Hey." He turned to see Warrick walking up, not liking the look covering the other CSI's face. The defeated they all wore to often lately.
"Found anything?" He asked pointlessly; he already knew the answer.
Warrick slowly shook his head. "Nothing. I took the whole damn thing apart, check for prints and I find nothing. Damn it Grissom, what the hell are we going to do?"
"Wait," He replied with rational simplicity, "We haven't confirmed that the blood is Sara's yet and Cath hasn't finished checking all the places she might have gone."
"Yes I have." They turned to see Catherine approaching. Once again the same look clung to another face. "I've got nothing. I've checked everyone; apart from Jenny Sinclair, I couldn't reach her."
"She hasn't seen Sara," Warrick mumbled quietly.
Now all eyes were on him. "And you know that how?" Cath questioned.
"She came over for breakfast. She would have said something," He replied awkwardly, before quickly changing the subject, "So what do we do now?"
"What else can we do but wait?" Grissom sighed. "We still need to know if the blood on the car was Sara's or not."
And as if by taking some secret cue, the lab door opened and Greg came skidding out into the corridor. Except the usual blaring music did not escape with him, only stillness. Grissom wasn't sure if this worried him more then the expression spread across the lab tech's face.
Something must have made Nick aware of Greg running towards the break room, because he stopped dead and rushed out into the corridor to join the others. "You have the results?" He demanded urgently, even before Greg had reached them.
Greg jerked to a halt, allowing them to see clearly just how shook up he was. In his shaking hands was a white sheet: the DNA results of the blood sample. Nick snatched them from him. "I checked and double checked," Greg told them, his voice wavering, as Nick's eyes expressionlessly scanned the results. "I made sure, god and I hope it was wrong. I'm so sorry man. It's her. It's Sara's blood."
Nick didn't respond; instead he shoved the paper back at Greg, turned around and marched off. The others exchanged a look, before Grissom took off after him. He followed Nick into the bathroom and found him slumped over a sink. "He's got her hasn't he," He stated more then asked, not once turning around. Grissom said nothing and Nick continued, "I can't believed that I kept trying to kid myself. I knew he'd taken her, yet I kept telling myself that there must be another explanation."
"We're going to get her back Nick," Grissom reassured.
Nick let out a hollow laugh, sending a chill down Grissom's spine. "'Cause we've done such a great job so far." Then he spun round to face Grissom. Blue eyes met brown ones flooded with rage. "Why her? Why? She doesn't fit the profile. She's never stripped or sold herself. She's a goddamn good caring person. Does that mean nothing? She doesn't deserve this."
"No one deserves this," Grissom stated. "Nick, you should go home and get some rest. We'll handle this."
"What, as well as you've handled this so far?" He spat. "I'm working on this case Grissom whether you like it or not."
"Nick-"
"What if it was Catherine, Grissom?" Nick demanded. "What if it was her and not Sara? Would you take yourself off the case?" Grissom gave no reply and Nick shook his head. "Thought not."
He began to stalk out, but Grissom grabbed his arm. "Nick, I know how upset you ar-"
"No Grissom," He cut across, "You don't know. You don't know what it's like to know that someone you love more then life, is in danger and it's all you fault."
"It's not you fault," Grissom said firmly, but Nick didn't hear him as he continued his rant."
"It's all my fault. I could have stopped this. If I had just.... just stopped being such a asshole for a second and just... You know what the funny thing is? I love her. I don't think I've ever loved anyone as much, and I might have well just gone and sighed her death sentence."
"Nick, it's not you fault."
"But it is. It's all my fucking fault!" Without warning, the younger CSI whirled around and put his fist through the mirror. Fragments of glass cascaded onto the floor and splinted in between his knuckles. He stared at his hand, watching the fresh blood drip down, not wincing once in pain. "It's all my fault," He finished softly.
As Grissom had assumed: the noise of the smashing glass had echoed down the corridor, and Catherine, Greg and Warrick came bursting through the door. Cath first took in the mess, then gasped when she saw Nick's bloody fist and the glass still sticking into it.
"Oh god Nicky," She whispered and gently took his hand in hers. Tenderly, she pulled the glass from it and wrapped a hand towel over the open wounds. "Come on, let's clear you up."
Helplessly, he allowed her to lead him out of the room. Grissom waited a few moments before speaking to Warrick: "Do you know what happened between him and Sara?"
Warrick sighed. "You remember Michelle Evans?" Both Gris and Greg nodded and Warrick continued, "She came back to town. Nick didn't originally tell Sara 'cause he was worried about how she would react, and when he did tell her it caused a fight. Sara went over to Nick's to sort it out, except Michelle went over there first. Michelle kissed Nick, Sara saw and left before he could explain."
Greg stared at Grissom. "What do we do now?"
"What ever we can. Go over all the evidence again and over the case files. Get in touch with anyone who knew the victims, I don't want any possibilities left. I'm going to try contacting Brit and Jenny. We are going to find him and Sara."
~*~*~*~*~
An hour later, Grissom's office door slowly opened. He looked over the top of the file to see Catherine standing in front of him. She smiled at him, though he could see sadness in her eyes. "Hey."
"Hi. How's Nick?" He inquired.
"Asleep in the break room."
"How did you manage that?"
"I slipped enough of Brass' whiskey into his decaf coffee to knock out my mother," She replied with a shrug, "And trust me, that takes a lot."
"And how are you doing?" Grissom asked gently.
Catherine shook her head. "Not good. Why did he take her Gris?"
"I have no idea," Grissom admitted.
"It doesn't make any sense. If it should have been anyone, it should have been me."
"Don't say that," Grissom said, quickly standing up and pulling her into a tight embrace.
"What if he made a mistake? What if it was meant to be me, but somehow he got Sara instead? Or in his sick twisted mind all women are the same? Worthless whores whose deaths don't deserve a second glance?" Grissom could hear that her voice was on the verge of tears. "It should have been me Gil. Me not Sara."
"Shhhh. It should have been no one. I don't know what I would do without you," He confessed. "If I lost you, or anything ever happened to you or Lindsey, I would never forgive myself."
"Nothing is going to happen," She reassured. "I'm going no where."
They held each other closely, as if afraid that the other may disappear at any moment. He rested his head against her neck, comfort and guilt filling him. Guilty at knowing that Nick couldn't hold the one he loved like this right now. Guilty that he had what had been stolen from Nick. Guilty at feeling of minute relieved that it wasn't Catherine instead.
He heard her try to suppress a yawn. Grissom leaned back so he could look her in the eye and at the black rings that lined them. "You need to get some rest."
"I'm fine," She lied.
"You're not Cath. You haven't slept, well, since Portia went missing. Please, go home and get some rest."
"No."
"Please Cath, you need to." She opened her mouth to protest, but he place a finger to her lips, cutting her off. "Please, for me. We'll be ok here. Just get some rest or even spend some time with Lindsey."
"She's not at home, remember. She's at her friend's, Amy's, sleepover," She corrected.
"Course. All right, just sleep them. If we need you, we'll call."
"Ok," She gave in, "But I'll be back for the night shift."
"I'm not sure if you'll be needed. We haven't got many leads to look into. So if you don't feel up to it, don't come."
"I'll be back," She insisted.
Grissom decided to stop trying to argue with her. Instead he kissed her hard on the lips: a kiss that lingered bitter-sweetly for a while. "Grissom," Cath whispered as they broke apart. "You are going to need me."
"Why?" He asked, already knowing the answers, for her blue eyes told him. Eyes filled with fear and sorrow.
"Because it's the third night since Portia's death. The night when someone else joins her and another one is picked to share the same fate. When time begins to run out, all over again, to find her."
~*~*~*~*~
Sara had no idea how long it had been since the last light from the Las Vegas skies had fled for another day. There was no time in the place; she knew it could have only been minutes, but it seemed like hours. Days. Her eyes remained fixed in the direction of the slit; silently begging the light to slip through it once more. But only darkness was drawn here.
She stared over at the other captive. The words describing her soon-to-be fate plagued her head: she would be raped, drowned and dumped. An end that no one should be given.
The door opened again, letting artificial light in, and the killer walked down the stairs, every step echoing around the cellar. Once again, he set a tray down beside Sara and knelt down. This time he pressed some bread to her lips, then - once she's finished eating - a glass of water.
Her eyes flickered to the other girl and he followed her gaze. He looked back at Sara; once more his cold coal eyes locked with hers. "Please don't," She begged frailly.
He gave her no response; instead he picked up a bag off the tray and pulled out a needle filled with clear liquid. She tried to struggle back, but he grabbed her and jabbed the needle into the base of her neck. The sting was slowly replaced by darkness as the drug entered her bloodstream. And as she fell back into dreamless sleep, she swore she could hear faint screams that sounded hundreds of miles away.
A/N: What do you think? Rambles, comments, theories, queries, etc are always welcome. So what are you waiting for? Hit that button now!!! :o)
A/N: Hey all. I said I wouldn't be too long updating. I'm going back to school on Friday * groan * (who's bright idea was it to send us back the day before the weekend!), but I'm hoping to update with another chapter before then. I'm still wondering what happened to summer! Thanks for all who reviewed the last chapter: candaceFABULOUS, MissyJane, The Madhatter2, ArodLoverus2001, Sprinkles143, Stokes-CSI3 and SisterBear. You guys are great. Please keep them coming. Well, on with the plot and Sara's sticky situation. R&R and ENJOY!! - Bex :o)
It was either the same killer or a conspiracy. Once more they had a crime scene lacking in evidence: only a set of keys, small blood sample - believed to be Sara's - and a whole lot of nothing. Grissom had quickly handed Greg the blood sample, stressing its importance even though the lab tech already knew. Also, in his frustration, he'd ordered Warrick to search the SUV as thoroughly as possible - dismantling it if needed. He didn't want the slightest chance left that they had missed something. Cath was busy trying to contact everyone or anyplace Sara might have gone to. Through the break room window, he watched Nick as he paced back and forth; at the rate he was going, he would soon wear a hole in the carpet.
"Hey." He turned to see Warrick walking up, not liking the look covering the other CSI's face. The defeated they all wore to often lately.
"Found anything?" He asked pointlessly; he already knew the answer.
Warrick slowly shook his head. "Nothing. I took the whole damn thing apart, check for prints and I find nothing. Damn it Grissom, what the hell are we going to do?"
"Wait," He replied with rational simplicity, "We haven't confirmed that the blood is Sara's yet and Cath hasn't finished checking all the places she might have gone."
"Yes I have." They turned to see Catherine approaching. Once again the same look clung to another face. "I've got nothing. I've checked everyone; apart from Jenny Sinclair, I couldn't reach her."
"She hasn't seen Sara," Warrick mumbled quietly.
Now all eyes were on him. "And you know that how?" Cath questioned.
"She came over for breakfast. She would have said something," He replied awkwardly, before quickly changing the subject, "So what do we do now?"
"What else can we do but wait?" Grissom sighed. "We still need to know if the blood on the car was Sara's or not."
And as if by taking some secret cue, the lab door opened and Greg came skidding out into the corridor. Except the usual blaring music did not escape with him, only stillness. Grissom wasn't sure if this worried him more then the expression spread across the lab tech's face.
Something must have made Nick aware of Greg running towards the break room, because he stopped dead and rushed out into the corridor to join the others. "You have the results?" He demanded urgently, even before Greg had reached them.
Greg jerked to a halt, allowing them to see clearly just how shook up he was. In his shaking hands was a white sheet: the DNA results of the blood sample. Nick snatched them from him. "I checked and double checked," Greg told them, his voice wavering, as Nick's eyes expressionlessly scanned the results. "I made sure, god and I hope it was wrong. I'm so sorry man. It's her. It's Sara's blood."
Nick didn't respond; instead he shoved the paper back at Greg, turned around and marched off. The others exchanged a look, before Grissom took off after him. He followed Nick into the bathroom and found him slumped over a sink. "He's got her hasn't he," He stated more then asked, not once turning around. Grissom said nothing and Nick continued, "I can't believed that I kept trying to kid myself. I knew he'd taken her, yet I kept telling myself that there must be another explanation."
"We're going to get her back Nick," Grissom reassured.
Nick let out a hollow laugh, sending a chill down Grissom's spine. "'Cause we've done such a great job so far." Then he spun round to face Grissom. Blue eyes met brown ones flooded with rage. "Why her? Why? She doesn't fit the profile. She's never stripped or sold herself. She's a goddamn good caring person. Does that mean nothing? She doesn't deserve this."
"No one deserves this," Grissom stated. "Nick, you should go home and get some rest. We'll handle this."
"What, as well as you've handled this so far?" He spat. "I'm working on this case Grissom whether you like it or not."
"Nick-"
"What if it was Catherine, Grissom?" Nick demanded. "What if it was her and not Sara? Would you take yourself off the case?" Grissom gave no reply and Nick shook his head. "Thought not."
He began to stalk out, but Grissom grabbed his arm. "Nick, I know how upset you ar-"
"No Grissom," He cut across, "You don't know. You don't know what it's like to know that someone you love more then life, is in danger and it's all you fault."
"It's not you fault," Grissom said firmly, but Nick didn't hear him as he continued his rant."
"It's all my fault. I could have stopped this. If I had just.... just stopped being such a asshole for a second and just... You know what the funny thing is? I love her. I don't think I've ever loved anyone as much, and I might have well just gone and sighed her death sentence."
"Nick, it's not you fault."
"But it is. It's all my fucking fault!" Without warning, the younger CSI whirled around and put his fist through the mirror. Fragments of glass cascaded onto the floor and splinted in between his knuckles. He stared at his hand, watching the fresh blood drip down, not wincing once in pain. "It's all my fault," He finished softly.
As Grissom had assumed: the noise of the smashing glass had echoed down the corridor, and Catherine, Greg and Warrick came bursting through the door. Cath first took in the mess, then gasped when she saw Nick's bloody fist and the glass still sticking into it.
"Oh god Nicky," She whispered and gently took his hand in hers. Tenderly, she pulled the glass from it and wrapped a hand towel over the open wounds. "Come on, let's clear you up."
Helplessly, he allowed her to lead him out of the room. Grissom waited a few moments before speaking to Warrick: "Do you know what happened between him and Sara?"
Warrick sighed. "You remember Michelle Evans?" Both Gris and Greg nodded and Warrick continued, "She came back to town. Nick didn't originally tell Sara 'cause he was worried about how she would react, and when he did tell her it caused a fight. Sara went over to Nick's to sort it out, except Michelle went over there first. Michelle kissed Nick, Sara saw and left before he could explain."
Greg stared at Grissom. "What do we do now?"
"What ever we can. Go over all the evidence again and over the case files. Get in touch with anyone who knew the victims, I don't want any possibilities left. I'm going to try contacting Brit and Jenny. We are going to find him and Sara."
~*~*~*~*~
An hour later, Grissom's office door slowly opened. He looked over the top of the file to see Catherine standing in front of him. She smiled at him, though he could see sadness in her eyes. "Hey."
"Hi. How's Nick?" He inquired.
"Asleep in the break room."
"How did you manage that?"
"I slipped enough of Brass' whiskey into his decaf coffee to knock out my mother," She replied with a shrug, "And trust me, that takes a lot."
"And how are you doing?" Grissom asked gently.
Catherine shook her head. "Not good. Why did he take her Gris?"
"I have no idea," Grissom admitted.
"It doesn't make any sense. If it should have been anyone, it should have been me."
"Don't say that," Grissom said, quickly standing up and pulling her into a tight embrace.
"What if he made a mistake? What if it was meant to be me, but somehow he got Sara instead? Or in his sick twisted mind all women are the same? Worthless whores whose deaths don't deserve a second glance?" Grissom could hear that her voice was on the verge of tears. "It should have been me Gil. Me not Sara."
"Shhhh. It should have been no one. I don't know what I would do without you," He confessed. "If I lost you, or anything ever happened to you or Lindsey, I would never forgive myself."
"Nothing is going to happen," She reassured. "I'm going no where."
They held each other closely, as if afraid that the other may disappear at any moment. He rested his head against her neck, comfort and guilt filling him. Guilty at knowing that Nick couldn't hold the one he loved like this right now. Guilty that he had what had been stolen from Nick. Guilty at feeling of minute relieved that it wasn't Catherine instead.
He heard her try to suppress a yawn. Grissom leaned back so he could look her in the eye and at the black rings that lined them. "You need to get some rest."
"I'm fine," She lied.
"You're not Cath. You haven't slept, well, since Portia went missing. Please, go home and get some rest."
"No."
"Please Cath, you need to." She opened her mouth to protest, but he place a finger to her lips, cutting her off. "Please, for me. We'll be ok here. Just get some rest or even spend some time with Lindsey."
"She's not at home, remember. She's at her friend's, Amy's, sleepover," She corrected.
"Course. All right, just sleep them. If we need you, we'll call."
"Ok," She gave in, "But I'll be back for the night shift."
"I'm not sure if you'll be needed. We haven't got many leads to look into. So if you don't feel up to it, don't come."
"I'll be back," She insisted.
Grissom decided to stop trying to argue with her. Instead he kissed her hard on the lips: a kiss that lingered bitter-sweetly for a while. "Grissom," Cath whispered as they broke apart. "You are going to need me."
"Why?" He asked, already knowing the answers, for her blue eyes told him. Eyes filled with fear and sorrow.
"Because it's the third night since Portia's death. The night when someone else joins her and another one is picked to share the same fate. When time begins to run out, all over again, to find her."
~*~*~*~*~
Sara had no idea how long it had been since the last light from the Las Vegas skies had fled for another day. There was no time in the place; she knew it could have only been minutes, but it seemed like hours. Days. Her eyes remained fixed in the direction of the slit; silently begging the light to slip through it once more. But only darkness was drawn here.
She stared over at the other captive. The words describing her soon-to-be fate plagued her head: she would be raped, drowned and dumped. An end that no one should be given.
The door opened again, letting artificial light in, and the killer walked down the stairs, every step echoing around the cellar. Once again, he set a tray down beside Sara and knelt down. This time he pressed some bread to her lips, then - once she's finished eating - a glass of water.
Her eyes flickered to the other girl and he followed her gaze. He looked back at Sara; once more his cold coal eyes locked with hers. "Please don't," She begged frailly.
He gave her no response; instead he picked up a bag off the tray and pulled out a needle filled with clear liquid. She tried to struggle back, but he grabbed her and jabbed the needle into the base of her neck. The sting was slowly replaced by darkness as the drug entered her bloodstream. And as she fell back into dreamless sleep, she swore she could hear faint screams that sounded hundreds of miles away.
A/N: What do you think? Rambles, comments, theories, queries, etc are always welcome. So what are you waiting for? Hit that button now!!! :o)