Just a quick A/N here, there is a few hard cliffies coming up in the next few chapters, um…finish reading the story before you kill me at the very least? Agreed? Good….-runs and hides-

Chapter Eight

Kenny's News station was bustling; reporters ran from one end of the building to the other, newscasters were being prepped for the noon report, and equipment handlers were busy screaming at one another from across the large hallways, and rooms, frantically trying to set up before they aired.

Grissom watched all this happen from under his glasses. In one hand he held a report, where he tapped it impatiently against his folded arms, resisting the urge to scowl, and yell at the person closest to him.

"We've been here for ten minutes now," he said, trying to regain his nearly lost composure, "Where is she?"

Catherine let out an exasperated sigh, "I don't know, but this place is a mess."

"You could say that again," Grissom muttered under his breath, before calling out at a passing security guard. "Sir, we are trying to find Mrs. Cole, can you tell us where we can find her?"

The large man only shrugged, "If you want autographs, come back at a different time, if you want to report a story, check our phone number. We're too busy to take anything in person right now."

"Actually, my name is Gil Grissom, this is Catherine Willows, we're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and we need to speak to Mrs. Cole now, if you don't mind."

The guard nodded, "Why didn't you say anything earlier?" the man asked, unaware that they had done so already. "I'll show you in, this way."

Finally, Grissom thought, following the uniformed guard. His patience had clean run out hours ago. The chances of finding Sara and Greg alive were slimming by the minute; Brass had a full squad out searching for any signs of Sara's car, or any possible lead to where the two may be. And he was stuck in a news room, waiting to talk to some reporter who wasn't probably going to tell them anything anyways.

The bulky guard knocked on a door before pushing it open, and poking his head in. He talked with someone for a moment before stepping back, and allowing the two to enter.

"Mrs. Cole," Grissom nodded as he came in. The blonde woman, no more than thirty years of age, looked up from the small hand mirror she held.

"Crime lab right? What are you here for?"

So much for courtesy, Grissom thought. But it was best to cut straight to the point anyways.

"We want to know where you got the report about the two missing CSI's" Catherine asked from behind him.

The lady laughed, picking up a pair of tweezers to pluck free some eyebrow hairs. "You're kidding right?"

After a moment of silence, she risked glancing up at them. Seeing that they were serious she set her stuff down. "Look," she stated with a sigh, "If you want to know that kind of stuff, go see my manager, Stanley. He'll tell you."

"It would be easier if you just told us," Grissom interjected.

She only sighed again, picking up the mirror again. "I can't do that."

"Why is that?" Catherine asked her, coming up the desk.

The lady slammed her stuff down, causing the two to jump slightly. "Because I don't get the reports," she cursed, leaning back in her chair. "I'm not a reporter, I'm a damn newscaster, the only thing I do in here is read the white print that comes up on that little blue screen over there," she pointed over in the corner. "Stanley is the one who chooses what I read and what I don't read. When the white words come up, that's what I say."

Catherine nodded, understanding now. "Where is Stanley now?"

Mrs. Cole laughed irritably, "At the moment, probably getting drunk off his ass celebrating like he usually does when he gets a big news breaker."

"It would really help," Grissom intervened before Catherine could say anything. "The report you gave earlier contained more information than we had."

He watched as she raised an eyebrow, looking up at them. "You're kidding? Stanley said he got it from an inside source. I figured you two were trying to alert the town to be on the look out for them."

"Unfortunately, it may have put them in more danger," Catherine told her.

She shook her head. "I don't get paid enough to do this damn job," she rubbed her head. "Um, he could be anywhere, I really have no idea…" she pulled open her top drawer of her desk, sorting through a few papers. "Here, this may help, I don't know what you people do, or what you use, but…here, just take this."

She handed them a business card, complete with her manager's phone and address. Catherine flipped it over, nodding as she examined it. "Thanks for your time," she turned to leave.

"Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. If I had known, I would have refused to read it. I'm sorry."

Grissom was nearly out of the room, but he stopped at that statement, turning back. "It's okay," he answered, "You had no way of knowing. You were just doing your job."

She nodded, "Then you better get out there and do yours."

Grissom nodded in return, closing the door behind him.

Greg was awake. In fact, he had never gone to sleep. Sara however, was fast asleep, and had been so for what seemed like hours. She was resting against his chest, and even though her weight was putting pressure on his already sore torso, Greg made no move to pull away. He had spent most of the time trying to control his labored breathing, trying not to wake her up.

There had been no sign of their kidnappers; Greg wondered dully if they were still around even, or if they had left them here to die. Lifting up his arms, Greg examined the chains through the dim light. He doubted he could break them in his condition; doubted he could even break them when he was one hundred percent.

He set them back down, holding his breath as Sara shifted under his hold. When he was certain she had not awakened, he let it out. She was not as bad off as he was, that was for certain. But still, she looked horrible. A black eye, a swollen lip…and Greg could see some bruising start just above the line of her shirt. Dried blood matted the top of her head, and he could see a small cut that looked as though it was infected. More in likely she had a concussion…maybe that was why she was so tired.

And all this time she hadn't complained about being in pain. It was amazing. He rested his head against the wall, glancing around the abandoned shack, wondering dimly if this was to be their grave site. His thought drifted to the team, the same people he had become friends with, the same people that were almost family to him.

There was Nick, the cowboy in him never really seemed to have left. The quirkiness he carried, and the way he stood up for Greg when anyone tried to challenge him, even though Nick often left him with the most tantalizing of tasks, trying to convince Greg that it was a good learning expereince.

Catherine was strict, perhaps more strict than his boss was, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Catherine had chosen odd times to be honest with him, not that he believed she ever lied to him, but there came matters that Catherine came to him and him alone to resolve. That showed extraordinary trust, in his opinion at least.

Warrick wasn't someone he knew all that well. He was more of a quiet, withdrawn guy. Greg had wondered what went on in that head of his half the time. He had learned some useful hints from Warrick; the man had helped keep his back at times when he was training to be in the field.

Then there was Grissom. How could he describe Grissom? The man certainly made sure his team was secure; watched over. Greg also never knew anyone else that was so fascinated by bugs. But then again, Greg could see why they interested him. Grissom just seemed like a bug person. But overall, Greg wouldn't choose anyone else to be his boss. No, Grissom did that job just fine. The thought of having someone like Ecklie as his boss…Greg shivered. One Ecklie was enough.

"You okay?" Sara asked suddenly. Greg glanced down at her, surprised to find her eyes still closed.

"Yeah," he nodded, "just thinking about what life would be like if Grissom was like Ecklie."

"Greg, where in enough of a nightmare as it is, don't make it worse," Sara warned him, opening her eyes.

Greg laughed, "Sorry," he muttered, "sleep well?"

Sara shrugged, sighing a little. "As well as I could I guess."

Both were startled as the door swung open, leaving them blinking in the bright sunlight. When the door closed again, both Mando and Stitch stood in front of them, watching the pair.

"Any thoughts yet?" Stitch asked, looking up at the taller man.

Mando rubbed his chin, as Greg looked away, trying his hardest not to feel like some specimen under a microscope. After what seemed like an eternity, the older of the two finally spoke.

"The guy will never last that long. He'll only slow us down, waste him now, we'll still get a good enough price off the girl."

Greg felt the fear rise in his chest as Sara clung onto him tightly. "No," she whispered, bringing her arms over his neck as if hoping to hold him down there with her.

Greg kicked out as Mando came near him, but the older man easily sidestepped it, grabbing Greg's hair and dragging him sideways, trying to shake Sara off. It only served her to hang on tighter, as Mando grabbed the two by the arms, forcefully yanking the two apart, throwing Sara against the wall hard. Greg winced at the impact, calling her name as she lay there stunned for a moment.

Greg was fighting fiercely now, trying anything to pull free as Mando undid the chains around his arms. A swift blow to the back of his head dropped Greg to his feet, dazed.

By this time, Sara was already on her feet, slowly crawling towards Greg, calling his name, but the chain would only allow her to go so far, and she watched sickened as Mando passed a dazed Greg off to Stitch, who in turn half drug and half pushed the young CSI out the door.

She was still fighting against her restraints, crying out for them to stop when a series of gun shots silenced her. For the first time ever, Sara felt as though she was choking, as she heard another shot being fired. Mando only smiled at her, but she paid no heed as her head came to rest on the ground, as the sobs racked her body.

When Stitch came back in, she didn't even look up as he nodded in confirmation that the job was indeed done. She could no longer see, no longer think. Greg was dead…and it was her fault…all her fault.

"Don't worry honey," Mando told her, laughing at her state, "Yours won't be long in coming either."

TBC

As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed, love em much! Just one quick response here

brainfear

I wasn't really planning on it being a Sara/Greg fic, it sorta happened, blame the plot bunny if you will. I should have put some warnings up but didn't think about it, I'm sorry. Just to reassure you, that will prb be all that will be in this story as well. I didn't mean to offend you