Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, nor do I profit when I write these fictions. Thank you…

A/N- Hello. Thank you for the reviews. I sometimes wish that you, readers, also watch Alias, so that you can review my fics for that show. But then again, you can't have everything… anyway, I'm sorry for the delay of this chapter. School's a bit hectic. Enjoy!

CHAPTER TEN

"Run!!!" Rachael said as the three of them scrambled for cover. They all ended up hiding behind a blue truck, almost out of view from the gunman. The evil Thorne henchman was still firing all his weapons.

"Give me the cell phone!" Sara demanded to the reporter.

"Wha? What???" she asked.

"Give me the goddamn phone!!!" Sara shouted, amidst noise of the gunshots.

'Her left arm's bleeding." Christianna interjected, as she went to the reporter's side. Sara was seated in the middle of the two, with Rachael on her right, Chris on the left.

"Here…" Rachael handed the cell phone to Sara.

Sara looked at her, as if apologizing for the outburst, and punched three numbers, 911.

Just then the shooting stopped. Everything seemed still. The three women looked at each other.

"Did he stop shooting?" Rachael asked, whispering. Chris peeked at the bottom of the truck and saw a pair of feet coming to the parked trucks.

"Yes, because he's looking for us. Give me a gun." She asked Sara.

Sara, who was now talking on the phone, handed one of the guns she took from the now-chained men, confident that Christianna can handle a nine millimeter.

"Where are we?" Sara asked.

"5 miles from the strip." Christianna replied, creeping towards the tail end of the truck.

'Ow, ow, ow…' she thought as she felt the pain in her broken leg, and waited for the madman/gunman.

Sara was still talking on the phone when Christianna motioned them to approach to where she is. Sara helped Rachael up, and hid her from view. She then approached the young girl.

"You have another gun, right?" Christianna asked her.

"Yes. What do you suggest we do?" Sara asked back. If they will come out of this situation alive, she can laugh at the reversal of roles because she, the supposedly more experienced in unknown dangers, is asking the 'rookie' on what to do. But then, they are still in danger.

"I don't know. But he's reloading his guns. What do you want to do?"

They looked at each other. They are so afraid right now. They hadn't been caught up in a situation like this before.

"Shoot to kill." Christianna suddenly whispered.

"What?!" Sara asked, shocked at Christianna's resolution.

"Shoot to kill. Its either we die, or he dies."

"We can't do that!"

"Rachael dies?" Christianna meekly and innocently asked.

"Don't make jokes like that. Okay, we'll just split up, trap him. I'll go to the left, you go to the right. Okay?" Sara asked.

"Okay."

"On the count of three… one… two… THREE!"

They separated. Sara bided her time. Christianna was slow, with a broken, bleeding leg, who's not going to be? And she might need assistance when she was the one trapped by the madman. Her heart was pounding hard, as if it wants to come out of her body and be free of her. She can now hear slow footsteps coming her way. To trap or not to trap, that is her question.

'It's now or never.' Sara thought as she squeezed her eyes shut, fishing for courage, and a natural pain killer---for her painful, blood soaked arm, a combination of hers and the reporter's. She then showed herself to the owner of the feet with her gun pointing towards him/her.

She saw him give her a twisted smile. He had other guns strapped to his body. He was like Rambo, minus the war paint.

"Hello dearie. Where are the others?" He asked with a perverted menace in his voice. He was pointing an AK-47 at her.

"Put down your guns." Sara calmly ordered him.

"No, I think you should be the one to do that." He replied, motioning her to put down her gun.

She didn't budge. She has no chance to fight this madman if she's unarmed. 'You don't have a chance at all, if you compare your fire power with his.' She thought.

"Come on. Don't worry, I'm not going to shoot you." he said then laughed. A loony, a total mental.

She still has her gun pointed at him. But then her would-be-shooter spotted Rachael Stein. 'Oh my god.' She thought.

"Oh, the little shrieking blonde." He said and turned started to approach the reporter but his gun, still trained on Sara.

"Okay, okay, I'm putting my gun down." Sara called out, and proceeded to lower down her firearm.

The madman glanced at her. "Very good. Join the blonde. The other one's a red head right? She's not really hard to miss, I got her already." He cackled. Sara, shocked that Chris was already shot, didn't move. He looked at her with a really evil glance.

"You know patience is not really my virtue." He said to her.

"No. Let my friend go." Sara said to him.

The madman sighed, and took a pistol from his pocket. He looked at Rachael first, then to Sara.

"I guess you're the second one to go." He told Sara as he aimed the gun at her.

Sara can't breathe. She was going to die. She was going to die without telling her mother and father that she loves them, telling Grissom what she really feels, slap Hank in the face for fooling her and hug her friends.

She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing herself for the pain, the rush of blood out of her body.

'I'm going to be a crime scene.' She thought.

She heard three shots fired.

'Oh my god… Am I dead?' she thought. Is this the feeling of being dead? Not really feeling the pain? Feeling the same? But then she felt someone… hug her?

Sara opened her eyes.

"Idiot woman, why did you do that?" she heard him ask. She recognized the voice.

"Nick? What are you doing here?" she asked, perplexed.

"I came with Brass, together with Warrick, Grissom and Greg." He replied, still in embracing her. He got so angry and yet so afraid when he saw Sara standing in front of that twisted psycho, preparing herself to be shot.

"Chris! Chris got shot!" She said to him, panicking, but found herself too tired, too out of breath to rush to her friend. She felt her knees buckle.

"She's okay; she wasn't shot by your madman. He mistook a tree branch for her head. She told us." Nick added. He likes the feel of Sara in his arms, even if temporary.

Sara let out a deep breath and savored the feeling physical contact with another person.

One hundred feet away from them, Warrick gently jabbed Grissom. When Grissom looked at him, Warrick discreetly pointed Nick and Sara who were still in an embrace. Grissom observed them for a while and went on with his business. Greg was with his cousin, accompanying her to the hospital, taking the responsibility of calling up his aunt and uncle.

Warrick rolled his eyes, a reaction to Grissom's reaction. He surmised that he's carrying his torch for another person.

'Like Catherine.' He thought. But gossips are not to be relied on. Better hear the information from the cow's mouth.

*********

THREE WEEKS LATER

"So… you've already chosen a new CSI?" Warrick asked Grissom. They were in Grissom's office. Grissom informed them of his idea two weeks ago. Mobley agreed to his plans since he allowed Ecklie to get a new CSI.

"Will we know who it's going to be?" Nick asked, standing beside Warrick. Sara and he were still friends. He can't afford to lose his friendship to the woman he loves but who doesn't really know his true feelings.

"Or will it be a surprise?" Sara asked. Her arm was in a sling, but it was okay now. She was seated next to Catherine. Catherine and Brass were the only persons who know the identity of the new CSI. But Sara, Nick, Warrick and Greg, who was in the lab, don't know that.

"Before I tell you who it's going to be, I want to tell you that Jason Thorne's trial will be this Friday, together with his 'mob'." Grissom said, organizing his papers.

"So…?" Nick coaxing Grissom to continue.

"Well, the prospective CSI is young, has excellent credentials, excellent records, a bit of a workaholic, has a bright future even outside this occupation." Grissom replied, careful not to mention any pronouns.

"And we're not?" Catherine kidded.

"I'm not saying that. The future CSI also has good communicating skills, verbal or non verbal, very observant." Grissom continued.

"Come on, Griss, stop stalling." Warrick said.

"Well then, I hope you get along with the most underestimated and unappreciated CSI in the Boston Police Department." Grissom answered.

"Boston Police Department? You mean... Christianna?" Nick said, breaking into a smile.

"Yes. Christianna Johanson, CSI Level One. Do you have any objections?" Grissom replied.

They all shook their heads. It was a good choice. They get along fine, she's cheerful, she's young, and she's good, as her records said.

"Catherine, you knew!" Sara said, after seeing Catherine's expression, a 'yes-I-knew' expression.

"Yes. So what?" Catherine joked.

Sara stuck out her tongue. Sara can sense something between Catherine and Grissom. Can the rumors be trusted?

"The Johanson's are inviting us for dinner, this Wednesday. Can you all come?" Catherine asked them.

"I can." Sara said, first.

"Me too." Warrick replied.

"Me three." Nick said.

"Well then, I guess that's all our meeting's about. Go home guys, get some sleep." Grissom ordered them.

They all stood up and went out of the room.

Grissom discreetly observed them as they all went out. Subtle glances, telltale signs of tiredness. It was all in days work. And they're going to keep on doing it, give people justice, closure.

~End~

A/N- Yey! Finish!!!! So… what do you think? I'm thinking of following it with another story with the original character in it, crossovers with other tv shows, that blah…. Anyway… thank you for reading, please review. Thank you!