Traps and Circumstance

The first thing that set the tone was her appearance. Paige's hair was swept up in a tight bun, with only one wispy strand escaping the practical do. Her clothes were dark, a black half-turtleneck and very fitting pants that matched. Her arms were crossed in front of her, and the expression she wore was one of smirkful victory.

Nick quickly went for his spare gun in the little cabinet by his takeout menus. He whipped it out, thumbed the safety off and aimed the weapon at Paige Landry.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he heard himself demand. In the back of his mind, "Freeze" or "Hands up" seemed like a better option. Paige's smirk didn't falter.

"I've come to explain," she said simply, taking a slow step towards him. Nick's eyes and gun followed her movement.

"Explain it at the station," he said. He reached for his phone with his left hand.

"Don't." The firmness of her command actually made Nick hesitate. He glared at her, and started dialing a number.

He saw a flash of movement, and nearly dropped the phone as his finger tightened on the trigger. She'd whipped out a gun, and now held it steadily at him.

Crap. Standoff.

Nick didn't like those. The odds were never great, and he really didn't like looking down the barrel of a gun.

"I don't want to hurt you, Nick Stokes," she said quietly. And that was it. No threat? They normally make threats.

But Nick realized there was nothing normal about this situation.

He turned off the phone, but held his gun firmly towards her. She smiled approvingly.

"Drop the gun, Paige," Nick said in his own low tone. Her smile grew.

"Have you ever actually fired that?" she asked. Nick glared at her. "Oh, that's right. You were actually on the police force before CSI." She started to move, not towards him, but stepping sideways. It made Nick nervous and he hated that—it's what she wanted.

"You know," she continued, her voice mocking him, "of the two of us, I'm the murderer. I won't hesitate. So put the gun down."

Nick didn't like where this was headed. Even if he got a shot off, the odds weren't in his favor.

Surprise her. You have to do something. And part of him was still curious about why she was here, now, especially when she was supposedly jailed.

Nick chucked the phone at her from his left hand. Her body reacted defensively, and Nick lunged at her. His body rammed into hers, and suddenly he lost track of his gun. Hers, though, clattered somewhere to the floor.

He liked the odds a lot better with no weapons involved.

Until she kicked him in the side. Nick pushed himself away and got to his feet as she did the same. They eyed each other, with Nick's eyes flickering to his weapon, well out of reach.

"Why are you here?" Nick asked. His legs were tight, ready to spring. Paige just paced in front of him, studying him like he was prey. He didn't like that.

"I'm willing to discuss it, but you're being entirely too edgy," she said. Nick rolled his eyes.

"You're in my home when you're supposed to be finishing a 15 year sentence."

She shook her head.

"You are too predictable, Nick," she said. The use of his first name alone startled him. She'd previously been formal, but something about how she said his name came across too friendly for the situation.

She sighed and suddenly took fast two steps toward him. Her body spun around as she lashed out a kick that caught him right at his calves. Nick was swept off his feet, and fell flat on his back. Before he could push himself to his feet, she was on top of him, pinning him down with her weight.

He felt a sharp edge at his neck, and froze. The blade of a knife playfully bit his skin.

"Hold still, Nick." His eyes followed her next movement. She brought out a syringe with her free hand. Nick's eyes grew wide. He started to struggle, but she just applied more pressure at his neck.

Her fingers flicked off the cap over the needle. Paige twirled the syringe to point down and plunged it into his thigh through his clothing. Nick winced, but it didn't take long for the pain to subside.

It didn't take long for everything to disappear from view either.

It was dark, but streams of light filtered in the room.

Where . . . ? He opened his eyes, and felt a wave of intense pain in his head as a stream of light from the blinds hit him. He quickly shut his eyes.

He tried to move his hands to shield himself from the light, but they met rough resistance.

What? He tried to voice that, but it came out as mumbled jargon. He squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of his situation. He was still in his home, in his bedroom on the floor. Based on the ropes that tied his wrists behind his back, and also based on the gagged, he was being held captive.

Paige Landry, he thought as he remembered what happened.

Why would she do this to me?

Something suddenly moved, making Nick flinch as he tried to focus on it.

"Hi Nick," he heard. It was Paige again, but she didn't sound as . . .haughty as before.

"I realize you're confused by all this," she began, "but it was somewhat necessary."

She really didn't sound so smug this time. It threw Nick off, but not the instinctive fear he felt. He didn't particularly like it when criminals fixated on him. That'd happened before, and it—well, it wasn't fun.

"I need you to stop looking into my case," she said next. "No more investigations, no more calls about me in prison."

Paige knelt down by his body, and reached for the gag. Her fingertips lingered around his mouth before she removed the gag, but as soon as it was gone, Nick jerked his head away from her.

He swallowed dryly before trying to speak.

"Why would I do that?" Nick said, his voice raspy. Suddenly a bottle appeared in front of his face. Paige unscrewed the cap of the water, and tilted it towards him. Nick hesitated to take it, even though his throat cried out for some moisture after whatever Paige had drugged him with.

"We're on the same side, Nick," she said. She moved the bottle towards him again, and started to pour it over his mouth. It caught him off guard, and he sputtered and choked on the first bit.

She let him regain himself, and then offered him more. Nick shook his head. He still didn't trust her, even if she was being less adversarial.

"You knew I could have gotten out of a trial," she said next. Nick looked at her sharply, but didn't answer. "I saw you in that court room. You were nervous. Your case had so many holes—"

"Then why did you admit to it?" he said, cutting her off. His eyes started to blaze at her. Here she was, proclaiming to be a 'good guy' when she tied him up and pointed out his weak case.

Paige just smiled. "I didn't admit to it."

"You pled guilty," Nick said with a roll of his eyes.

"That's not the same thing," she said. What?! He wasn't about to argue semantics with her, but come on!

"What are you getting at?" Nick asked. He tried to push his body up with his shoulder, but it wasn't working too well with his hands behind his back. He felt Paige's hands on him, helping him sit up. He tried to ignore the tingle that went through him.

"You had two DNA samples from Christian's body, didn't you?" she said. Nick frowned, but didn't say anything. "I can't tell you who the blood belongs to. Privacy is one of the beauties of blood donation."

Donation!?!

"What, the Red Cross?" Nick quipped skeptically. Paige raised an eyebrow at that but nodded.

"Christian was killed elsewhere a few hours before I was in his office," she said. "He already bled a lot, even through the small stomach wound."

"It wasn't small—you twisted the knife, remember?" He glared at her, still not buying these bizarre details.

"No, I didn't," she said. "But because he had bled so much already, I added blood to his wound at the office."

Nick blinked. It made sense, and that confused Nick even more. Why would she do this? What purpose does it serve?

"You lowered the temperature to fake an earlier time of death," Nick stated, but Paige shook her head.

"No. The temperature was lowered just before you arrived, so you would think the time of death was different." Paige raised an eyebrow again, nodding at him as if to ask if he was getting all this.

"Are you saying you were framed?" Nick asked slowly. She laughed at that.

"You still don't get it, do you?" she said. Nick ignored that.

"Are you here to proclaim your innocence?" he asked, a sarcastic lit to his voice.

"I don't need to prove it to you," Paige said. "I'm just telling you the how and why."

"Why you did it?" Nick clarified.

"Why I allowed it to be done," Paige said. "Like your work is for you, it was a matter of duty. It still is."

Nick shook his head. "What are you talking about anymore? Would you drop the cryptic act and just tell me whatever it is you're trying to say?"

Paige stood up and started pacing. Nick heard her sigh, but he himself felt frustrated. What she said just didn't make sense—especially if she was claiming she didn't kill Patterson.

"You never told me why you killed him," Nick said, changing the direction of this twisted interrogation. He saw her steps falter. "What was your motive?"

Her back was facing him, but Nick saw her swipe at her face. He heard her take a deep breath, a shuddering one at that. Is she crying?

She whirled around to face him, closing the distance between them as she crouched down by his side and got close to his face. Nick had to brace himself with his bound hands not to fall back.

"Christian and I were seeing each other," she said with vicious emotion. "His death was unplanned, but we made the most of it."

Nick quickly caught the 'we' reference, and suddenly felt the unease within him grow.

"He was mugged not far from the office building," she said. She leaned close to his ear, and her breath tickled his skin. "It was purely random. A mugging."

The wallet was missing, Nick recalled suddenly. He swallowed as she continued.

"The knife was left in his body. We made the most of Christian's death," she said. "We moved his body to the office building, staged the scene with the blood and the temperature. You were supposed to think I tampered the temperature, trying to cover my tracks by throwing off the time of death. But Christian really died earlier that night."

She stopped, a hitch in her voice.

"You said 'we,'" Nick said softly. "The security tapes showed no one but you." She sighed and pulled back to stare him in the eye.

"Tapes can be altered," she said. "Before you ask why, think about the big picture. If I did it, I wouldn't be here right now. I wouldn't be discussing that night with you. Instead, I'm asking you to forget about it all before you harm what I've spent months trying to accomplish."

The stubborn Texan in him refused to see where this was going. "Months you should have spent in prison," he said meanly. Suddenly she knocked him down on his side. He felt her warm breath on his neck as she seethed at him.

"I spent months in that prison. That was the whole point." She pushed off of him. Nick winced, but stared at her. Her face was twisted with conflicting emotions. She seemed so angry, and yet so desperate that he believe she wasn't a murderer.

Nick opened his mouth to ask a question, but she suddenly looked at her watch and cut him off.

"I have to go," she said, trying to steel her voice. She failed as she continued. "Listen to me, Nick. I'm not what you think I am. But even if you don't believe me, please . . . . Leave me alone."

She started to turn to leave, but stopped. Paige removed a knife from seemingly nowhere and threw it down near Nick's hands. The tip of blade embedded itself in the carpet. He stared at it over his shoulder. He glanced back at Paige.

She was already gone.

He sighed and wiggled his arms back so he could cut the ropes against the knife.