a/n: "Day Five" may take me a bit, so give me a few days. Also this 'day' is really long, so I've broken it up into two parts.

Day Four—Part 1

The nightshift practically took turns vulturing around Archie as the poor kid worked frantically to hack into the damaged server. Kannell Corp had yet to call back, and being overseas, LVPD could only extend so far for help.

So, unbeknownst to Ecklie, Grissom authorized at least looking at what the fuss was all about.

The information was encrypted, but Archie had expected as much with data this sensitive. He'd said, though, that the data was definitely financial—bank numbers, account balances, bank locations, and of course names that frequently made it on the richest-men-in-the-world list.

Catherine and Grissom took a break from hovering as they sat in his office. The latest note had arrived, along with a bloody strip of fabric.

"Greg said there were two DNAs. Nick's, and XX," Catherine summed up. "So probably the girl, Jill."

They hadn't found out much about the girl, other than she was a graduate student at UNLV. Her family, which only consisted of a father, was in California. He hadn't come to Vegas yet, and frankly, Gil was glad.

Gil didn't really acknowledge Catherine's summary, but he looked over the note. It instructed them to have the data on an external hard drive. They were supposed to deliver it tomorrow night at 11 p.m.

"Are you going to give it to them?" Catherine asked. She swept her blonde bangs from her face and waited for an answer. Gil swiveled slowly in his chair, taking his time.

"That depends on who they are and what they intend to do to Jill Parker and Nick."

Catherine took a deep breath.

"We haven't found anything about any of the kidnappers. Whoever they are, they aren't in any of our databases. Another dead end," she said. "They won't release them both. Not until they check the data. Which brings me back to my question."

"I'm not thrilled about handing off this information to them, assuming we can crack it," Gil said. "But I'm not thrilled about risking anyone's life, especially Nick's."

"What about tracking it?"

Gil sighed. "Yeah, we'll probably have to do that. I just don't like where that'll lead us."

Catherine frowned. "Where will that lead us?"

"We'll find out, I guess."

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It was early morning, but the basement light stayed on. Nick was restless. He could only sleep so long in such an uncomfortable position, and he wasn't used to all this down time.

He tried to figure out what was going on. It'd been four days now, and frankly, so little activity had Nick worried. Lane, Kostya and Ethan had to be planning something. They wouldn't hold them forever. Some trade had to be upcoming. But yet they waited.

He wondered how the lab was doing. The blood would worry them—Nick knew it was a warning to them to not cross Lane.

Lane—he was losing the respect of his men. Well, Kostya at least. And Nick could tell Kostya was stronger than Ethan. He might just challenge Lane. But it depended on how far Lane pushed him. And how close Jill got to Kostya.

Nick scowled. He didn't want to push her towards this, but he didn't want her to get hurt either.

"Don't do anything you don't have to, or want to," he had said. In retrospect, that hadn't been the subtlest of hints. In fact, since he'd said that, Jill had been quiet.

Across the room and attached to the other pole, Jill pretended to sleep. Her back was turned on Nick, but her eyes were wide open.

She knew Nick was right. She'd had the same thoughts, that she could use an ally among the kidnappers. But what Nick implied, what he suggested . . . she had expected better of him.

Jill was disappointed. Somewhere inside of her, it'd made her feel let down. It reinforced the idea she'd long converted to: she couldn't count on anyone. She hadn't in some time, which was why she was on her own in Las Vegas, with no family close by. Her friends were more like acquaintances, and while she liked being with them, suspicion kept her aside.

To his credit, albeit little, Nick had said to not do anything she didn't have to. Jill frowned though. He'd basically asked her to play to Kostya's desires.

Footsteps thumped down the stairs until Kostya came into view. Jill shifted and watched him. He carried two plates of food.

"Breakfast," he announced simply. He put Nick's plate on the ground and slid it to him, but for Jill he set the plate down gently.

The food didn't appeal much. Toast and an egg. They'd fed her and Nick, but simple and quick things. More than anything she craved fruit.

She also wanted a shower. On the second night, they'd allowed it. Jill took a deep breath.

"Kostya," she said, her voice meek. She hated that, but she couldn't deny the fear she had for him. The Russian looked her in the eye. "Can I take a shower?"

He nodded, and cut off the ropes around her hands.

Jill didn't even glance at Nick as she went upstairs, with Kostya behind her.

The Russian stopped her before she disappeared into the bathroom.

"I . . ." he started. He cleared his throat and tried again, this time reaching for a bag on the floor. "Here are some clothes." He passed her the bag, and stepped back.

Jill stared at it, then back at Kostya. She hadn't expected this from him. A quick glance at the bag showed at least a few days' worth of clothing. She wasn't sure what to say, but settled on nodding to him.

After her shower, she found that the clothes were newly bought—or stolen. But they were nice. Kostya had even bothered with, um, underclothing. That made Jill's face flush, but she wasn't complaining. New clothes were relatively clean clothes.

She chose a pair of jeans that fit snugly, and a black short-sleeved v-neck. She stared at her reflection. Her wet brown hair hung down, slightly tangled though she tried to comb through it with her fingers. Her face hadn't seen makeup in awhile, but she looked decent without it. She inspected the clothes and adjusted the shirt before leaving the bathroom.

Kostya was reading something in the kitchen, not far from the bathroom, when she came out. He looked up and did a double-take. Jill instantly felt a bit self-conscious. Nick's words came back to her, and she realized she was tensing up again.

Lane sat by the Russian, and shot Jill an amused look.

"You haven't eaten," Kostya said, finding his voice. "Did you want something else?"

Lane shot his friend a look and said something in Russian that Jill knew was about her. Kostya looked annoyed, but waited for her answer.

"Do you have an orange?" she asked. It drew amused smiled from both men.

"She doesn't like your cooking," Lane said. Kostya again looked annoyed, and mumbled some reply to the Brit in Russian. Even so, he nodded to a bag on the counter.

Jill rummaged through it and found an orange. She started looking around for something to cut it with, and opened a drawer. As soon as she grasped one of the knives therein, it dawned on her. She could level the playing field, or at least lessen the disadvantage she had.

Before she could cut the orange, or turn the tables on her kidnappers, she was grabbed from behind.

It was Lane. He squeezed her hand hard until she dropped the knife. Then he turned her around to face him. His eyes bore into her, and he gripped her arms harder. It hurt the cut on her right arm, but she refused to cry. He slammed her against the fridge.

"What were you thinking?" he said lowly. Jill's eyes were wide open, and a gulp was her only response. Lane slammed her again, and Jill grunted with a wince at the impact.

Behind Lane, Kostya stood, his hands clenched. Lane was well-aware of it.

"You underestimate her," Lane said in Russian. "You may want her, but she's only thinking about escaping."

"Let her go," Kostya said, his eyes shifting between Lane and the frightened Jill. "She's done nothing."

Lane just smirked at the Russian. He looked back at Jill. "She's pretty. You've kissed her; how does she taste?"

Without waiting for any response, Lane leaned in and kissed Jill. It was rough, his lips pushing hard against hers. Kostya started forward a step before he stopped himself.

If he reacted, he would be proving Lane right. So he stood there, immobilized as Lane continued to kiss Jill, even as she tried to push him away. It seemed like an eternity before Lane ended it.

He tossed Jill across the room, into a chair. She landed roughly but froze as soon as she was stable enough. Even so, her eyes were alight with fury.

"Not bad," Lane said, continuing in Russian.

"Not at all," Kostya said. He feigned a grin at the Brit. "Like an orange."

"Refreshing," Lane added. Finally the blonde man laughed and switched to English. "Put her downstairs." He left the room.

Despite the language barrier, Jill looked betrayed. It actually made Kostya feel guilty, though the soldier in him demanded he not care.

Ethan suddenly came into the kitchen, and Kostya swiftly put him to work.

"Take her down, and bring the cop for a shower," Kostya said. Ethan nodded, and grabbed Jill by the elbow.

She wouldn't look at him as she left, and Kostya was glad. He wanted nothing more than to go shoot something. Or stab. Or hit.

His eyes settled on the orange.

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Nick shot her worried glances as he was led out of the basement. He raised an eyebrow at the new clothes, but Jill just shook her head. She didn't want to talk to him and was glad to be left alone in the basement.

It only lasted a few minutes.

She heard footsteps, and instead of Ethan or Nick, it was Kostya. A tremor went through Jill.

His steps were slow, cautious. In his hands was a plate, with a sliced and peeled orange. He didn't kneel this time, but actually sat on the ground in front of her. He pushed the plate towards her.

She could use her hands, but it was awkward at best as they were tied around that pole. Before she could stumble with it, Kostya stabbed a slice with a fork and held it up to her. She eyed it, then him before leaning in and taking a bite.

Jill chewed slowly. She kept her eyes anywhere but on the Russian. He offered her a second slice.

"I'm sorry about Lane," he said in his garbled accent. Her eyes flickered to him.

"Why are you apologizing for him?" She emphasized 'him,' though Kostya missed it.

"He's my friend," he said. Jill shifted slightly away from the Russian.

"You need new friends," she said. Kostya looked a little grim at that, but slowly smiled. Jill took the orange slice in her mouth and chewed.

"Did he hurt you?" Kostya asked. His tone was . . . afraid. Maybe not about the truth so much as what she would say. With that, Jill knew she could play this a certain way, just as Nick had said. The fact that Kostya was down here, feeding her oranges, was evidence enough that Nick was right.

She hated him for that, at the moment.

Jill shook her head, even though she could see bruises on her arms from where he held her. Kostya actually sighed out in relief.

"Do you still live in Russia?" Jill asked. It was small talk, but it was better than awkward silence. And it pleased the man.

"My family is there," he said. "I . . . move a lot." He had a slightly far off look in his eyes, and Jill knew there was more to it than that.

"Do you miss them?" It was hard to imagine such a man would, but he did nod.

"And you? Where is your family?" he asked.

Jill didn't answer for several moments. She wasn't one to just share things like this. But Kostya had been honest with her. She took a deep breath.

"My father lives in California," she said. "We're not on the best of terms."

"Why not?"

Another deep breath. Jill didn't really want to go into this, but Kostya waited for an answer. In fact, the more she paused to collect herself, the more patient he seemed. Somehow, that made her tell him.

"He—my mother disappeared ten years ago. I know my father's responsible, but the police couldn't prove it enough." Jill looked at her hands. She flexed her fingers. "I stay away from him."

Despite the news, Kostya offered a sympathetic look.

"You have no other family?" he asked. Jill kept her eyes on her hands.

"No one I can count on."

Kostya slowly reached for her, touching her face so she'd look at him. It startled her at first, until she told herself to calm down. She stared at him and his eyes looked deep into hers. Jill found herself thinking that the darkness in his eyes wasn't scary anymore. She felt his thumb move back and forth, caressing her cheek.

Someone coughed behind them. Jill pulled back slightly, and saw Ethan and Nick standing there. Ethan pushed Nick along and retied him to the pole. Kostya stood, shooting a glare to Ethan behind his back. Jill almost grinned at that, until she remembered what just happened.

Kostya opened his mouth, but closed it a second later. He settled on flashing Jill a smile and going upstairs. Ethan left after him, shooting Jill an amused look.

Nick, however, was not amused. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to bite back what he felt. He didn't like this, and he vocalized his reaction.

"That was quick," he said. He was surprised at how bitter he sounded.

"What?" she hissed at him. "I thought you'd be happy." There was some smugness in that last bit, and it just aggravated Nick more.

"What's with the new clothes?" he asked. His jaw was so tight, it felt like it would snap. "Did you pack a bag?"

She glared at him.

"Kostya got them for me."

"Interesting," Nick commented lamely. He wasn't blind to how closely the clothes hugged her frame—no doubt Kostya's intention. Ordinarily he might not have complained, but like everything else between Jill and Kostya, it bugged him! "I didn't get any new clothes."

From across the room, he could see her roll her eyes. "Well, if he was gay and you were seducing him, maybe you would've gotten some."

'Seducing' was a slap in the face. It's not what he'd said, not what he wanted. He just wanted her safe. But seeing the plan in action . . . Nick fought the urge to yell. He took a deep breath.

"Look, Jill," he started, "I just don't want you to . . ." How could he word this? "I don't want him taking advantage of you." He winced, hoping she wouldn't—

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Take advantage of him, be taken advantage of?" She huffed. "Come out and say whatever it is, Nick, because you communicate like a lab rat."

Nick tried not to react to that. She was being difficult right back to him.

"Jill." He took another deep breath. "I guess I'm having second thoughts."

"Why?"

Crap. He wasn't sure why. Or he didn't want to put a reason to it. Either way, he couldn't answer.

"Just be careful," he settled on. Immediately, it felt defeatist, and Nick almost slumped over, giving up.

"Shut up, Nick," she said back.

He sighed and turned away from her.

She'd wasted no time getting cozy with Kostya. Why did that bother him? The new clothes, the orange which Jill now tried to eat, his hand on her face . . . Nick felt his stomach churn.

He told himself to cool it. If Kostya got closer to her, Jill would be safer, right? But it felt so . . . wrong. He tried to ignore the nagging in his mind that it might be more than that.