Thank you to all you guys who reviewed last chapter: angw, nicole101, Mma63, and grullo-cowgirl. Thank you all so much.

Chapter Eight

Hot tears slid down Meg's cheeks. She wiped them away with trembling hands and replaced her mother's picture to its resting place. The thought of her mother always brought on sad memories, but never had Meg outright cried.

But that was before.

Now, Meg's life was a mess and she was swiftly losing her grip on the small part she still controlled.

"Get a grip, Sawyer," she chastised herself. "Greg's gonna be here any second and you need to look…not so crappy."

She moved into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. Her gaze moved up to the mirror and her eyes fixed on her reflection. It was a dismal picture that stared back at her.

Before another fit of tears could overwhelm her, Meg turned away from the mirror and walked into her bedroom to get ready for her and Greg's date.

>>>>>

Though she was laughing and smiling, Greg couldn't help but think that something was wrong. Meg wasn't acting like herself. She had been so chipper when he'd picked her up, but Greg had seen the red that rimmed her eyes.

What happened between this morning and tonight? He wondered, fixing his eyes on Meg's face. Her smile seemed brittle and forced and her eyes kept scanning the restaurant as if waiting for someone to jump out and yell "boo." She tried to hide the tension in her shoulders and the way that her back was perfectly straight, as if poised to run at a moment's notice. But Greg could see through it. He could see the fear that loomed beneath her sunny exterior.

"Meg," he interrupted whatever it was that she was saying. Her eyes flew to his in surprise.

"Meg," he repeated, "is something wrong?"

"What? No, nothing's wrong." She replied hastily with a shake of her head. Greg didn't buy it.

"You seem really tense tonight." He said. Meg shook her head again, her dark blonde hair brushing against her face.

"What do you mean tense? I'm perfectly fine, Greg." She hastened to assure him.

There was no way that he was going to get anything out of her. So, he dropped the subject and, instead, focused his attention on making that night as enjoyable and relaxing as he could.

>>>>>

Nick watched as Archie carefully matched up features from each photograph. The carefully constructed face that loomed on the large screen was slowly coming together and Nick felt a prickle of anticipation travel down his spine as he waited for the final result.

"Now we just need to add hair and eye color." Archie said, scrolling down a list of possibilities. With one click he brought up hair color and with another the eyes.

"And there we go." Archie said, leaning back in his chair.

Nick stared, shocked, at the face that gazed back at him. Barely able to believe what he was seeing, he could only breathe three words. "Oh my god."

>>>>>

There was a signal for when it was time to kill her victims. A signal that he had given her when she'd received her first assignment. It was a signal derived to inflict as much pain on the victim as possible, but she never knew that it would hurt her as well. The signal was nothing more than a simple word: Love.

>>>>>

They walked out of the restaurant to Greg's car, his arm securely around her waist. Meg felt a safeness within his hold; a sense of security that she hadn't felt in a long time. And it was nice. Comforting. Familiar.

They barely knew each other, and yet, Meg felt herself falling more and more in love with him. And it was a sentiment, she was certain, that was reciprocated. The words hadn't been said yet, but Meg felt it deep within her that it wouldn't be long before one of them said those three little words. The three words that everyone in the world longs to hear: I love you.

She wanted to hear those words so badly, wanted to know that she wasn't the only one to feel that way. And yet, she didn't want him to say it. She wanted him to remain quiet and have them simply go on as they were without uttering those words. Because Meg knew that the second those words left his lips, everything would change. Their entire relationship would change into something that Meg wasn't certain she was ready for.

The ride to Meg's apartment was short. Too short. Before she knew it she was unlocking her door and opening it to let herself and Greg inside. The date was near an end, and they still hadn't kissed. Meg wanted to kiss him, but she was afraid of making the first move. And she was afraid of what that action would bring. Would the connection of their lips bring forth the words that she both wanted and didn't want to hear? Perhaps. But why she should fear those words? Words themselves were not harmful. So why fear them?

Meg took off her jacket and placed it over the arm of the couch. Greg placed his jacket over hers and, to Meg, there was something so intimate about their coats touching. She took a step towards the kitchen, going in there to make coffee or at least do something that would occupy her mind and keep those pesky doubts and thoughts from her mind. But Greg took her hand in his, halting her steps. His fingers encased themselves around hers, flooding Meg with a sense of warmth. Her eyes flew to his, questioning. Greg leaned forward, his lips parted slightly in anticipation. Meg's tongue slid out quickly to moisten her lips in an unconscious act of expectancy. Her breath came out in short gasps as Greg slowly moved closer. It was agonizing torture to just stand there and wait for the kiss that was coming. Her heart raced and the blood pounded in her ears. She was oblivious of everything but Greg. The way his hand wrapped around hers, the smell of his cologne, the look in his eyes, the way that his nearness affected her. It was all too much for Meg. And, just as she was about to pull away, his lips connected with her own.

>>>>>

"Grissom!" Nick ran down the hall after the older man. Grissom turned and Nick skidded to a halt in front of him. The younger CSIs breathing came out in harried gasps.

"Something wrong, Nick?" Grissom asked, one eyebrow arched in question. Nick handed him a piece of paper. Grissom took it and looked at the photo there. His eyes widened slightly as he beheld the face laying there. He turned back to Nick.

"Get Brass."

>>>>>

It was waiting in her freezer for when the time came for its use. She had made it carefully. She'd filled the mold with water and, once it'd frozen, she had carefully whittled it until the point was sharp enough to kill. The weapon was ready. The stage was set. Now all that was needed, was the signal.

>>>>>

Meg fell back onto her couch, Greg landing softly on top of her, their lips connected in a heated kiss. His hands rested on her hips, holding her gently as if she were a porcelain doll easily broken. She liked that about him. The way that he treated her like something that was special. The way he treated her like a woman and not just a colleague who he thought was pretty. Her own hands were wrapped around his neck, pulling his mouth as tight against her own as she could. Once the connection had been made, she didn't want it broken. She craved his touch like a starving man, and needed his kisses as much as her deprived lungs needed oxygen.

The kiss was broken, each breathing in deeply to gain their second wind, and then they resumed. A delightful shiver ran down Meg's spine as Greg's tongue ran across her bottom lip. She parted her lips to grant him access and his tongue quickly snaked into her mouth. His hands slid beneath her shirt and his touch moved up and down her sides. Goosebumps sprung up on her flesh wherever his hands touched her.

They remained like that, locked in a passionate and all consuming kiss, until time seemed like nothing more than a fleeting concept.

When their supply of air, and their energy, was out they finally broke apart. Meg placed a hand over her swollen lips. Lips on which Greg's taste still lingered. Their eyes were locked together and they seemed unable to tear their gazes away.

It was going to happen. Meg could sense it. Time was suspended between them, waiting. Waiting for Greg to say it. Meg knew it was coming and her mind reeled with what would happen afterwards.

"Meg," his voice was a husky whisper that raised goosebumps on her arms.

"Yes?" Her own voice was nothing more than a whisper of anticipation.

"I love you."

There it was, the words that she had been dreading. The signal.

>>>>>

Dun, dun, dun. Lol. Ooh another evil cliffhanger. What's gonna happen? And who knew that Meg was the dreaded Ice Assassin? I probably won't be updating for awhile, 'cause my family is going to my grandma's house the day after Christmas. So, Merry Christmas to all y'all and I hope you'll review.