Albert

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, nor any other works which may bear a resemblance, intentional or otherwise, to this work.

Rating: T

A/N: I have a flatmate called Alberto. He is a very nice guy, and bears absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to 'Albert'.

Chapter 10: The Confrontation

"Tommy, Dr. Yuan said that you might be able to tell me some more about who hurt your aunt?"

Tommy shook his head. "I can't."

"Was it Albert?"

The child stared at her. "You believe me?"

Sara nodded slowly. "Yes, I believe you. I believe we need to stop Albert."

Tommy started to say something, but instead his eyes widened in shock as he stared at something behind her. "No!" he shouted.

Sara turned as a length of fabric ripped from the bottom of the curtain wrapped itself around her throat, cutting off her oxygen.

And now she could see it. Or rather, she could see something. It was as though whatever she was looking at was so horrible that her mind refused to process the image because if she could really see whatever it was she was looking at she might cease to function completely, and she heard a voice like nails on her brain:

"Hello Sara. Do you still think you can catch me?"

Terror filled her. She was going to die, she knew it, and her desperate mind fumbled for something, anything. Words from long ago flowed back to her, and she mouthed them because she lacked the air to speak.

'Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name… Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil… Deliver us from evil…'

Grissom slammed open the door to the Child Serivces office.

"No!" he cried, a shout of pure desperation.

Sara was lying on the floor, thick fabric wrapped chokingly tight around her throat, and Grissom could see something sitting astride her chest.

Behind him, the priest also cried out.

"In the Name of God, begone!"

The thing, whatever it was, seemed to turn its attention towards them, and Grissom heard the priest begin chanting in Latin the words of the Ritual of Exorcism, essentially unchanged for hundreds of years.

Even as supernatural battle raged around him, he raced to Sara, dropping to his knees beside her.

"Sara!"

With trembling hands he reached out to unbind the fabric from around her throat, then leaned down to rest his cheek an inch from her lips. She was breathing, and, for the first time in years, Gil Grissom breathed a prayer of his own.

"Thank God."