A/N: To clear up any confusion, identical twins do have the same DNA. They share the same genotype, but different phenotypes, meaning they have the same DNA, but that DNA can manifest itself in different ways, so they have different fingerprints and physical characteristics (i.e. moles, beauty marks, etc.). And did I say two parts? I meant three. This story will have three parts.

Part II

Sara slowly to backward steps towards her kitchen. If she could reach the butcher block on the counter, she'd have a fighting chance. All she needed to do was distract him long enough to reach the knives.

"Why? Why now? When you were home free?"

"You're so lovely. You don't even know it, do you?" Barzini asked, shaking his head. You remind me of my first one. College sweetheart…my wife's best friend, actually. She was planning on breaking up with me. I read it in her diary." He sighed at the memory. "But she never got a chance to," Barzini smirked.

Sara felt her stomach seize. "What did you do with the body?"

"I burned it," he told her. "Megan was a free spirit. Everyone just assumed she'd ran off on an adventure."

"How many since then?" Sara asked, feeling ice-cold fear coat her bones as she took another tiny step backwards.

"Eleven after Megan, including my biological mother." Barzini paused for a moment and considered. He looked back at Sara and smiled. "You'll be lucky number thirteen."

She felt the edge of the counter hit her back. There was no time to over think it. Sara grabbed for a knife and foisted it out of the butcher block. Barzini took a step back momentarily, but then smiled wickedly at her.

"You'll fight back," he surmised almost pleasantly. "You don't know how boring it is when they just lie there."

Sara held the knife in front of her, ready to battle to the death. Every rape she had ever processed came back to haunt her. She could feel the soul of Linley Parker stand by her shoulder, urging her to stay strong. Kaye Shelton was by her side, too. And young Susanna Kirkwood. They were all there, the ghosts of cases past, solved and unsolved. They filled the room and surrounded Barzini, her own personal army.

And Sara found the will to fight.

She darted forward, scaring Barzini. He almost tripped on his own feet as he stumbled backwards. She felt a surge of strength. All of a sudden, she was every battered woman who fought back. She was her mother. Sara took another step forward.

"Sara."

Her name came from the other side of the door, along with three knocks on the wood frame.

She dropped her knife.

The weapon clattered on the floor, the shine of the metal matching the glint in Barzini's eye. He smirked at her. There was no way she could reach for the knife now. He had longer arms. She kicked the handle of the blade clear across the room and watched it sail on the hardwood floor as Grissom knocked on her door again, calling her name a little louder.

Barzini grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, claming his free hand on her mouth as he held her bodily. She could feel his erection at her back and it sickened her. Grissom was on the other side of the unlocked door, but she couldn't yell out to him. At her every attempt to struggle, Barzini would just find another way to keep her still. The skin of his palm over her mouth was surprisingly smooth. Sara opened her lips slightly, baring her teeth. She pushed her head forward and he rammed his hand back against her mouth. A tiny piece of his skin slipped between her teeth and she bit down hard.

"You bitch!" he shrieked, letting her go, his uninjured hand smacking her cheek and causing her to stumble.

Her front door opened and from her place on the floor, Sara could see Grissom's body in the doorframe. She could see it took him a moment to register what was going on, but before she could do more than blink, he had his gun out of his holster.

She quickly got to her feet, holding her breath as she watched both men stare each other down.

"Did he hurt you, Sara?" Grissom asked, his eyes laser-focused on Barzini.

"No, I'm fine," she managed.

"Honey," he intoned slowly, "call 911." Grissom kept the gun trained on Barzini.

He made a grab for her. For the second time in minutes, Sara found herself in Barzini's arms.

"I'll snap her neck, old man," Barzini threatened.

Grissom's expression was blank.

Barzini opened his mouth to continue his threats, but Grissom pulled the trigger before the criminal could say another word. Three shots echoed through Sara's apartment. She felt Barzini's grip on her slacken as his warm blood bathed her neck and back. Grissom took several steps forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her in back of him as he stepped forward to look at the dying man. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

Sara could faintly hear his conversation with the 911 dispatcher and then with Brass. The gunshots were still ringing in her ears. She wanted badly to say something, to thank him, to run into his arms. But she was covered in blood. She was evidence. After he hung up the phone, Grissom stole a glance at Sara and then walked purposely towards her. "They're coming now," he told her quietly, and then pulled her robe closed, belting it tightly. Sara looked up at him, alarmed. She hadn't even felt the cool air on her chest. She could feel the blush rise up into her cheeks. His face remained fixed and unresponsive.

The cops swarmed her apartment complex, handling her curious neighbors and securing the crime scene. Brass took Grissom's statement and then held out his hand for his gun. Grissom placed it in the detective's palm and then put both hands in his pockets. Sara could feel herself shake with fear, but knew she couldn't sit down. Barzini's blood was all over her.

"Sara. Sara?"

She turned at the soft, Texan whisper of her name. Nick smiled gently at her. Sara could see how he itched to reach out and comfort her, but the scientist in him held back.

"Sara, sweetheart, I need to process the evidence on you," he told her as he led her to a quiet part of her apartment. She nodded her head and he started to swab the drying blood on her neck and arm. He took out his camera and pushed up one of her sleeves with a gloved hand. Sara could see the tendons in Nick's neck twitch as he photographed the newly forming bruises on her wrist and cheek. "Sara, I'll need that robe," he whispered. "You can, uh, wash the blood off you now. Just…leave the robe on the bathroom door handle." He looked like he was in pain. She tried to smile and put him at ease. "Sara, I'm…I'm glad you're okay."

"I am, too, Nick. Thank you."

The blood in her hair was caked dry. The strands seemed stiff as wire. She shampooed it twice, watching Barzini's blood swirl into the drain. She scrubbed her skin raw, turning every place Barzini may have touched from pale white to bright pink. The water scalded, but Sara didn't care. It was washing him off of her.

She took an extra long shower in hopes that most of the circus that was currently occupying her living room would be gone. Grissom would still be there, that much she knew. Sara didn't know what she would say to him once they were alone. He had saved her life. He had killed to save her. And while Barzini was an insane criminal, he was an insane criminal that was let onto the street because of her poor judgment. She in no way deserved what happened to her, but Sara knew she partly contributed to putting herself in danger. And she was the reason that Grissom, a man that had never used his gun in the line of duty in almost thirty years, had now taken a life. He was a peace-loving man, unlike so many police officers she knew who went to gun clubs on the weekends or hunted innocent animals for sport. There was no way he could just chalk this up to another day on the job. He killed a man and it was her fault.

Sara dried herself off and slipped into her terrycloth bathrobe. She opened the door slightly and made sure no one was in the hallway as she made a break for her bedroom. Comfort beat out style and after a few minutes, Sara walked tentatively to her living room. Only Grissom and Brass were left. The detective smiled kindly and she tried to smile back, but all she could think of was the blood on Grissom's hands because of her.

"Gil, I think I'll get going," he said. "Goodbye, Sara." Brass lightly touched her elbow before making his exit.

Sara took a deep breath. "Grissom, I…"

"Pack a bag of your things," he told her abruptly. "I called the crime scene clean up guys." Grissom absentmindedly gestured to the pools of blood still covering the floor. "You can stay with me until your place is back to normal."

"Grissom, you don't have to…"

"Sara, I'm really not up for any arguments," he told her, rubbing his eyes. "I'm too tired. Just get your things and let's get out of here."

TBC…