A/N: Now the plot kicks into action! Muhahaha.


Nick followed Sara and Greg up to the doorway of her apartment, carrying Greg's overnight bag. "Where do you want this, Greggo?" he asked.

"Just toss it by the couch, man." Greg replied as he fished the keys out of Sara's purse and opened the door. Sara, now on crutches, tried to maneuver though the doorway, but the stoop proved to be more than a match for her. One crutch caught on it and she tripped, beginning to tip forward.

"Whoa there," Greg cautioned as he reached forward, catching her arm and steadying her. "You ok?"

"I'm fine," she said roughly, slightly embarrassed at nearly landing on her face. "I'm just not used to these yet, is all."

"You know, I think I got the better end of the deal," he said jokingly as he helped her through the doorway, "I think me on crutches would be just slightly less destructive than a Category 5 hurricane. You'd have to put up the china."

"Yeah, you know, you just lost a few hundred thousand brain cells. I'll take my broken leg over that any day," she joked back.

"You know, I already had an overabundance of brain cells. What's a few hundred thousand?" He grinned.

"Well, you can't really miss what you never had in the first place," she joked, making her way over to the couch.

"Ohhhhh," Greg groaned, clutching his chest in mock hurt as he helped Sara sit down on the couch. "You're too clever for me, Sara. There's just no comeback for something like that."

"Now, now, children," Nick said, plopping Greg's bag down beside the couch, "fighting already? I'm not going to have to pull you two off each other, am I?"

Greg and Sara made eye contact, and it was all the two of them could do not to burst out laughing. Sara pursed her lips, trying not to smile.

"What? What's funny?" Nick asked, clueless.

Sara cleared her throat, wiping the smile off her face. "Nothing's funny. Nobody's laughing. You're so paranoid, Nicky!"

Nick looked from one to the other suspiciously. "Well, you guys enjoy your little inside jokes. I gotta get going. You two behave, you hear? And call if you need anything. I mean it."

"Wellll…some Vanilla Caramel Fudge sounds really good about now…"

"Yeah," Nick scoffed, "nice try, Greggo."


It was 11 o'clock in the evening, and Grissom walked into the break room. The small television in the corner was on with the volume turned low, and Grissom picked up the remote to turn it off. But what he saw displayed across the bottom of the screen stunned him. He squinted at the tiny screen through his glasses.

Death Row Inmate Escapes,it read across the bottom of the screen. Frowning, he turned up the volume. "…are looking into the circumstances of the escape of a death row inmate a short time ago. Tobias Slater was en route to a hospital after suffering a severe epileptic episode. He was being transported under guard in an ambulance when he managed to escape. The LVPD have not released any information regarding the escape, but a source tells us that he may have had help. Slater, scheduled to be executed in a few months, was convicted 6 years ago for killing his wife and her infant son in a rage when he discovered that his wife had been conducting an affair, and the child was not his." Slater's all too familiar mug shot flashed across the screen. "If you see this man, please call Crime Stoppers immediately at 702-385-5555. Reporting for KVBC 3, I'm Steve Crupi." Click. The screen flickered off, going dark, and Grissom set down the remote. He got up, heading for the file room. He was going to spend the next few hours going over Slater's old case files.


"Greg! Hold still. Good grief, it's like you're 10 years old!" Sara said, as she tried unsuccessfully to keep a wiggling Greg still.

"I can't help it! I don't like needles," he whined.

"Neither do I. But the nurse told me to give this to you before bed and that's what I'm doing, if it's the last thing I do. Now stop…moving." He was still for a moment and Sara took advantage, slipping the needle in and depressing the plunger, releasing the anti-inflammatory that would prevent any swelling in his brain.

"There! Was that so hard? You probably didn't even feel it."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one getting jabbed with needles repeatedly here!"

"Well, it was only a few times," Sara said guiltily. "And only because you wouldn't stand still and let me find a vein." Greg interrupted her with a wide yawn. "Sleepy? Me too. Let's go to bed."

"I guess I'll take the couch," he yawned.

Sara scoffed at that idea. "And what am I going to do? Hobble out of bed on my crutches every two hours to check on you? That's going to happen," she said sarcastically. "No. We sleep in the same bed." Seeing the mischievous glint in his eyes, she hurried to quash it. "We sleep on opposite sides, no touching. That's the rule. Got it?"

"Oh, I got it, all right," he grinned, "but the real question is, can you keep your hands off of me the whole night?"

"Oh, I'll manage, Greg."


Ring.

"Grissom."

"Hey Gil, it's Brass…Listen, I guess you've heard about Slater by now."

"Yes. I'm refreshing my memory about the case now, going over some old evidence in the case. I have to say, the evidence is very conclusive."

"Yeah, the jury thought so too. You know, he threatened you."

"Yes, I remember. In open court, after the jury passed the sentence. He was angry at me for putting him away. Your point?"

"Angry? That's an understatement. My point is, he could be coming after you. It's not uncommon for escaped convicts to seek revenge after escaping. I'm concerned, that's all." Brass said.

"Well, I appreciate your concern, but I think that I'll be fine. I usually am pretty careful." Grissom refused to let the threat of this criminal shake him.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your case files. Just remember what I said, ok? You can never be too careful."

"Alright. Thanks, Jim. I appreciate the heads up."


"No. I can't help you out with this one. I owed you one, so I helped you escape, but I'm drawing the line at murder. It's been years, and I got a family now, man. If something would happen I'd get sent away for life. Who'd take care of my kids then?"

Slater was mad. His only ally, the one person he trusted, the man who'd been his best friend for years, was backing out on him. "You know how much I need to do this, Will. I don't have anyone else who I can trust to help me. You're it."

Will shook his head. "I'm sorry, man. If it were just me…"

Slater's arm rose and fire blazed from the handgun he held, muffled by the silencer attached to the end of the shiny barrel. Will slumped to the ground, killed instantly by a bullet in the brain.

"Yes. And now it's just me."


The alarm beeped insistently from the bedside table. Sara looked over at the LED display. 4 am, it read. She groped blindly in the dark and slammed her hand down on the button that would shut it up. Suddenly realizing that she was feeling an unaccustomed weight on her, she felt around in the dark. Greg's arm was around her waist, thrown there unconsciously as he lay sleeping. Sara, usually one to shy away from physical contact, found his touch strangely comfortable and comforting. Nice. That's how it felt. "Greg," she whispered, shaking him gently on the shoulder. His only response at first was a low groan. Wiggling to turn around under his arm, she leaned over and planted a butterfly kiss on his neck. Without opening his eyes, he said, "Now if you keep on doing that, I might wake up eventually."

She smiled that crooked half-smile at him as he cracked an eyelid at her. "Come on, now," she coaxed, "open 'em both for me." As he sleepily complied, she clicked on the small flashlight beside the bed and quickly checked both pupils for reactivity. Satisfied, she switched the flashlight off.

"Do I pass the test, Doc?" he teased.

Curling up against his chest and pulling the covers around her, she closed her eyes and nodded. "Now shut up so I can get some sleep around here."


Three days later…

Greg was putting the finishing touches on his hair when a knock came on the bathroom door. "Greg? Get out of there already! I need to take a bath."

Opening the door with a flourish, he grinned at the slightly annoyed Sara. "All yours, ma'am."

She hopped into the bathroom on one foot.

"Remember what the doc said? No getting the cast wet, now." he cautioned.

"I remember. But thanks anyway." Pausing for a moment, she turned to him. "Are you sure you're ready to go back to work, Greg? I mean, there's no rush. Griss said you should take as much time as you need."

"And I did, Sar. I promise you, I am now in perfect health. You have absolutely nothing to worry about," he assured her.

"Well, just take it easy, ok? Stay in the lab. No field work for you tonight. Got it?"

He nodded, yawning wide. "Man, it's going to take me a while to get used to working at night, instead of sleeping. I wonder if my coffee stash is still safe?"

"Oh…about the coffee…" she began.

He raised his eyebrows. "What about it?"

She grinned mischievously. "Now that we're kind of a couple, you'll have to share the coffee. Secret stash location, please?"

He groaned. "I knew it was all too good to be true. You're with me for my coffee, aren't you?"


A few hours later, Greg stood in the lab, sorting out various unidentifiable objects collected from an arson case. He was separating them into three categories: plastics, metals, and who the hell knew what. The ringing of his phone interrupted his work, and he slipped of his soot covered latex gloves before fishing around for it. Not recognizing the number on the called ID display, he answered. "Hello?"

"Hello, Greg Sanders." The voice on the other end was cold and strange. Almost ominous.

"Yeah, and who's this?" Greg asked suspiciously.

"My name is unnecessary for you to know at the moment. All you need to know right now is that a package will be coming for you in a few minutes. You will sign for it, take it, and open it alone."

Greg was in disbelief. What a crazy whacko. "No, you know what? I hope you enjoyed your little prank call, I'm hanging up now. Goodbye."

"Wait." That one word was so chilling that Greg slowly put the phone back to his ear. "I think you had better do what I say if you ever want to see Sara again. Well, see her alive, anyway." A sadistic chuckle was followed by a beep, telling Greg that they'd been disconnected.

TBC


dun dUN DUN! Please review. Please please please? It's soooo easy...just hit the lil button over on the bottom left of the screen.

racingfox: I know, Greg and Sara make one of the best looking couples ever. They're just soooo perfect.

Surfrieda: I try to write fast...but sometimes the plot bunny just doesn't hop all that fast. I feed it carrots when it slows down, though.

Unlikely-to-bear-it: Goldfish? Eeeee! Realizes she has real Goldfish instead of virtual ones in the kitchen and makes a run for them

sciencenerd: I'm glad you liked the last one. Hope this one's up to par as well!

toxicat: I've spent the last hour or so going over pics...What? obsessed? me? ha!

Jenn Sidle: Thank you so much! What a fantastic compliment. Real and like the show is exactly what I was going for. Of course, I wish the show would give us Sandle moments from time to time.