Thanks for all the reviews, once again. R2R will be on next chapter. We will be getting into more of the other members in this chapter, and more in the next chapter. Some of the information on when the CSI members work may be incorrect in accordance to the show, but for this story, just go with it, otay?

Chapter Six

The lights were still on when they arrived. Cop cars and an ambulance surrounded the parking lot, their lights were still flashing; near the door Brass stood, talking quietly with an officer. It was now four in the morning, the night shift was to end in only a few hours, Catherine had come in early, as soon as she had gotten the call. Nick and Warrick, who were now almost done with their second shift straight, were also there, unwilling to leave now.

They met her with a nod, nothing more as the trio made their way up to Brass. Grissom had already gone inside the store, arriving at the scene with Brass, who had already cleared the area. It was an eerie feeling, they had been told nothing more at the time. Now they were fearing the worst.

"One DB," Brass told them softly, "Marina Hiro, Chinese American, early twenties. Single gunshot wound to the back of the head. She was the owner of the store, the vehicle matching Sara's was gone by the time we got here, as well as Marina's attacker" he pointed at the black top. It was hard to make out, but tread marks could be seen.

"Someone left in a hurry," Catherine remarked, letting the beam of her flashlight rest on the pavement.

"Any sign of Sara?" Nick asked Brass, resting a hand on the door.

Brass shook his head, "So far, nothing. I haven't been able to locate her or Greg, so we're assuming that they were together."

Nick nodded, "Greg's car is in the shop, if anyone gave him a ride it was Sara. Shifts start at the same time, Greg's on her way."

Brass agreed silently as they made their way inside. Catherine grimaced; there was blood, a lot of it, all over. The floor, the walls, the shelves, the counter…she even risked looking up at the ceiling, relieved to find that there wasn't any blood up there. Even with all the scenes she had processed before, this one was different. This time, it could be one of their own.

"Two different weapon discharges," Grissom told them, without looking up. He was kneeling down on the far side of the store, next to a pool of blood.

"Someone was here," he indicated at the blood smear on the freezer door. "And it looks like another person, or possibly the same person, was drug over here, then back to the door."

"I didn't see any blood trails outside" Nick told him, looking over his shoulder, "but I'll go check again."

"Sara or Greg?" Catherine asked Grissom, kneeling down beside him.

"There's no proof that they were here tonight," Grissom told her, even though it was the same thought on his mind. He had said it a little harsher than intended, trying to convince himself as much as her.

"They were here," Warrick spoke for the first time that night. Both Catherine and Grissom looked up at him.

"Sara Sidle, Greg Sanders," he read softly, turning the wallets over in his hands. "ID, credit cards, but no cash."

"Smart move, for the assailant at least. He knew that we could trace him through records if he used them," Grissom told him, fighting against the icy feeling in his stomach. "More in likely this isn't his first attempt."

"How do you know it's a he, and that there's only one?" Catherine wondered, turning back to him.

"I don't," Grissom said solemnly. "Alert Brass, we'll treat this as a hostage situation, and we need to find the surveillance footage. No one works on anything else, do I make myself clear?"

He hadn't any need to ask. The others were unable to even think of anything else, and so they nodded without a word.

"Let's process," Warrick said, opening his kit.

Sara wasn't sure how long they had been in there; the car never ceased its steady humming as it rolled over the road. You never really realized how rough the road was under you until you went over it while in the trunk. Sara was powerless to do anything as Greg's body trembled throughout the night, his temperature shot from icy cold to a sweaty fever in only a few hours. His breathing was ragged; at times it seemed like he was panting.

Sara continued to talk to him quietly, even though he couldn't hear her. It made her feel better; made her feel as though she was helping him in some way. During that time an uneasy weariness came to settle over her. Head pounding, and muscles aching, she closed her eyes, trying to stave off the unwanted feeling.

The lurching of the car brought her back to her sense. She cursed herself in one long sentence, lifting herself up to glance at Greg in the dim light.

It had to be day now, it was warmer in the trunk now, and the temperature was steadily rising. Deep black and blue bruises marred his face, dried blood clung around his nose and lips, the cut down his face had become swollen. She hadn't meant to fall asleep.

Placing her hands against his forehead, she let out a sigh of relief, noting that he was much cooler now, still running warm, but nothing like earlier. His trembling had subsided, but a lone shiver would still pass through his body every now and then. He was doing much better.

Smoothing his hair, Sara called his name softly, hoping for an answer. "Greg?"

"Yeah?" he answered softly after a short period of silence, earning a smile from her.

She let out a sigh, laying her head back down, "Just making sure you're still here," she said softly.

Greg laughed a little, "I'm not going anywhere…at least not with the kung fu grip…you have on me."

Sara blushed, laughing some as she let up on him. "Sorry," she apologized, "you kind of scared me."

"It's okay," his breathing was still heavy, but his talking was much smoother now than it was earlier. "Can't wait to tell Nick…I actually got you to sleep with me."

Sara snorted, nudging him in the back with her knee, "Dream on lab rat," she told him, but was smiling, glad that he was sounding much like himself.

"I've officially worn that name out," he protested.

"Fine, then I'll just call you field mouse," she answered, before he was unable to say anything else.

Greg's laughter turned into a coughing fit, worrying Sara. It only lasted a moment, but it was a deep, painful cough, she could tell as he laid his head down with a sigh.

"Greg?" she asked, raising her head up some.

"Hurts," he told her, hoping that would explain enough, but after a moment of silence he continued. "It hurts to breath."

"I think you might have some broken ribs," she told him. It would actually surprise her if he didn't have any; after the way Mando had beaten him, she was surprised Greg was even still alive.

"Any idea…where we are?"

Sara shook her head, "Besides in my trunk, not really. I don't they've stopped at all."

"Means we could be anywhere," Greg muttered, fighting off a yawn.

"Get some sleep," Sara coaxed him, "while you can anyways. I'll wake you if anything happens."

"And let you have…all the fun?" Greg asked, shaking his head. "Don't think so."

"You need your rest," she pleaded, feeling his forehead once again.

Greg pulled away a little, "I'm a big boy," he reassured her, "I'll be fine."

"Greg," she started again, but was stopped as the car came to a stop. The engine was shut off, and after a moment, the hollow sound of doors opening and closing could be heard. Sara felt Greg entwine his hand in hers, giving them a slight squeeze. Sara squeezed back.

TBC