a/n: Hope you like this!

Step Two

New York.

Nick wasn't a stranger to big towns. Come on—he lived in Vegas. He grew up in Dallas. City life wasn't anything special or bizarre.

But New York was different.

Maybe it was the smell in some parts. Or the constant sensation of being busy. There was a feel in the air, a 'hurry up or die' type of thing. He instantly didn't care for the city.

The subway rocked back and forth, somewhat violently. But none of the passengers seemed concerned. Nick swallowed and tried to appear unaffected. Paige merely leaned her head back and closed her eyes, as if the shaky ride lulled her to sleep. He almost envied her composure.

But she was a bit too composed. After all, they were headed to face off against the director of Paige's whole screwed up division. Nick wondered if this confrontation would go as badly as the last.

A deafening shriek permeated the air as the subway came to a loud stop. Every time it did that, Nick fought not to jump.

"You okay?"

He hated that question. Paige seemed to ask it too often.

"Yeah," Nick said dryly. She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"It'll be all right," she said. Nick let himself look at her. Her eyes were soft, something he hadn't seen for awhile. Suddenly she leaned into him and kissed him.

The subway started back up, lurching forward and sliding Paige closer to him. Even so, Nick pulled away.

He cleared his throat softly and stared at his shoes.

"There's something I need to know," he said. He heard Paige sigh but shift her body so she could face him. "How is this going to end?"

She raised an eyebrow, but Nick pressed forward. "I mean, really. . . what's going to stop them from coming after us?"

Paige opened her mouth to answer, but didn't say anything. She gave Nick a look, and he knew.

"Oh," he said.

"We have to protect ourselves," she stated in monotone. Nick didn't reply, but studied the dirty subway floor. "Nick."

It was his turn to sigh. He was tired of this. This situation, these choices, Paige, her employer . . . he wanted nothing more than to just disappear.

"Since when is protecting ourselves going out and killing someone?" he said quietly.

The train screeched again to a fierce stop, but for once it didn't make Nick jump. He stared at Paige as she stared back. After a couple of moments, she stood.

"This is our stop."

Warrick glanced at the file for the hundredth time. It was hard not to—he had nothing else to do until the plane landed. It'd been circling the La Guardia airport for half an hour now.

He checked the file again. The facial recognition scan turned up a lead, thankfully. It was Victim #2, now known as Damon Jacobson. He was ex-military, which worried Warrick a bit. Jacobson had an address in New York. It was a mailing address, somewhere downtown, but it gave the CSIs the lead to send Warrick on. Plus, he'd be in the city, hopefully near Nick.

The seatbelt sign flashed, another reminder to indeed stay seated with the belt securely fastened. Warrick closed the file as the plane turned and descended towards the airport.

Nick stared at the building, well aware of the sense of déjà vu he had. The street was quiet, with the building just down a block or two from Broadway. Cars honked and passed by on that street, but it was muted from where Nick stood.

He wore nothing stealthy, nothing unusual. Simple jeans hugged his hips and a gray long-sleeved t-shirt and jacket shielded out a slight chilling from the wind. He didn't take a deep breath or build up any extra courage as he walked inside. He almost felt he was on auto-pilot.

The elevator climbed quickly, though in that time, Nick could feel the security cameras studying him. As the elevator doors opened, Nick was greeted by two armed guards.

He assumed they were guards, but they wore no official uniform beyond dark suits. Nick immediately noticed the guns aimed at his torso. Auto-pilot checked off as Nick swallowed hard.

"This way, Mr. Stokes," one of them said. Nick nodded and followed.

The floor was marble, a dark blend that meshed well with the equally dark walls. Even with the lights on, the whole aura was . . . intimidating.

That was probably the point.

It was eerily quiet. Not even the suits' shoes made noise. Nick would have felt like he was in a library if it hadn't been for the guns.

He was led to the end of the hall and through large wood doors. Inside was a spacious office. Actually, it seemed more like an apartment, with different rooms inside of it. Nick went with his escort, weaving back until he saw a single man standing in front of the windows.

He was staring out over the city, not even flinching as Nick was shown in.

"Mr. Stokes," the man said, still not moving though. "You're just in time. Paige is on her way down."

Chills covered Nick's body. The man turned to face Nick, a victorious smirk on his lips. He gestured to the side, where Nick saw a large computer screen, split into sections of surveillance.

Paige was on one. She was on the roof, about to enter the building.

"Don't worry. She'll be here soon," the man said. His voice mocked Nick and the seemingly puny efforts they'd made. Nick clenched his teeth tightly together. His fists closed and opened as he fought the urge to lunge at the man.

The two guards grabbed Nick by the arms as they saw his reaction. Nick immediately struggled, but they overpowered him and put him to his knees. He winced as they held his arms behind his back, pinning them awkwardly and painfully.

"You were stupid to follow her," the man said, taking in Nick's position with some glee.

"You gave me no choice," Nick said heatedly. "You tried to kill me a few times, remember?"

The man's smirk dissolved to a tolerant smile. He clasped his hands in front of him.

"I do." Suddenly, his eyes darted to the large monitor. Nick followed suit, and saw Paige walking down a flight of stairs. The man nodded at his escort, and they quickly moved into action.

They gripped Nick roughly and slipped a thick plastic tie over his hands. As they tightened it, Nick was assailed by déjà vu. His mind flashed him images of his home, when the assassin attacked him and set fire to his house.

Nick gulped as he thought what they had in mind now.

"Look, all we want is to be left alone," Nick said, trying his plea. The man and his security just ignored him. "Please. I'm willing to let everything go, if you'll just leave us alone."

Someone hit him from behind, a decisive crack to the back of his head. Nick groaned and hit the floor. Black and white spots peppered his sight as he blinked hard and tried not to give into the pain.

"Sir," Nick heard somewhere around him. "She's gone."

A brief ray of hope made Nick try to focus on the security monitor. Sure enough, Paige wasn't shown. He sighed, somewhat relieved that she wasn't so blatantly in harm's way.

The lights went out, as did everything electronic. The machines seemed to sigh as they shut off.

The man running the show looked to his guards.

"Find her, quickly." Both left, leaving only the man and Nick.

Nick knew the darkness was a good sign, but that didn't stop the shudder that ran through him. He kept telling himself Paige knew what she was doing. He just wasn't sure if he believed himself.

Someone down the hall yelled. Nick stiffened as gunfire rang out. It was two shots, maybe three.

And then nothing.

The man didn't seem worried. His eyes bore into Nick, staring him down and daring him to think he had a chance at survival. Nick only stared back, all the while hoping Paige would succeed.

As the stare-down continued and the scurrying around the office echoed off the walls, Nick suddenly felt tired. He wanted this to work, somehow. He wanted to be able to go back to Vegas, work a double shift and sleep sparsely as he normally did. He wanted to go home. To be safe.

"Don't move."

Nick turned his head towards the voice, already knowing who it was. Paige stood at the office door, a gun raised and aimed at the man in charge.

"Paige," the man greeted. "Good to see you in such fine health."

"Cut the crap," Paige ordered. Nick could see what was happening. The machine, the robot of Paige was out. She wasn't Paige right now. Nick swallowed. This is how it has to be.

"I don't know what you're looking for, Paige," the man said. "Maybe it's some sort of happy ending. Some revenge maybe. Or justice."

"You killed Christian," she said, her voice escalating, but her control still in place. The man smiled.

"I can't help it if you were disillusioned by what we do."

Paige's finger tightened over the trigger. The man saw it too, but didn't flinch at all.

Suddenly a shot rang out, and Nick instinctively ducked lower to the ground. He expected the man to fall. Instead, he heard a gurgled cry from Paige.

His eyes widened.

"No," he whispered as she fell to her knees. Her eyes wandered over to him, and the machine was gone. Her eyes pleaded for something, so sad and full of agony. Paige fell forward, almost on her beautiful face, as a last breath escaped her lips.

"Nick . . ."

He stared at her, but she was gone.

His heart sped up, and Nick fought back a rising lump in his throat. He swallowed, his throat and mouth dry as it hit him.

Paige was dead.

Nick tore his eyes away from her body, up at the doorway to see one of the suits who had fired.

Oddly, there wasn't a smirk or any satisfaction on his face.

Nick looked over to the man, the author of all the misery in Nick's life. He looked away from Paige's body too, and stared at Nick.

"Now, Mr. Stokes," the man said, "I think it's time we dealt with you."