I want to thank those of you who reviewed last chapter: Senorita Stokes, grullo-cowgirl, and Queen of Cliffies. Thank you all so much. Now, on with the next chapter.

Chapter Eleven

It seemed as if time had slowed as Meg's fist, and the deadly icicle, lowered. She could see it all happening, yet she felt strangely detached from the scene. As if she were merely a spectator, a witness to the crime.

The icicle drew closer and closer to Greg's heart. Meg's hand was shaking violently and she wasn't certain she'd be able to stab directly into his heart.

Thankfully, she didn't have to worry about that.

Just as the tip of the dagger touched Greg's bare skin, the apartment door crashed open.

"Freeze!" The harsh command broke through the terrified silence.

"Oh thank God." Meg breathed as her fingers finally released the cold weapon, letting it fall, harmlessly, onto Greg's chest. "Thank God."

>>>>>

Greg could only stare as a policeman pulled Meg off him and handcuffed her before leading her out of the apartment. He remained fixed on the couch, unable to move as his thoughts caught up with what he was seeing.

Everything had been going so wonderfully. He and Meg were just about to…well, you know, when she suddenly pulled out that…whatever it was. Greg's mind still could not process what he had seen in her hand, nor could he comprehend the fact that she had been about to kill him.

"Greg, are you alright?" Brass shook him, bringing Greg's furiously churning mind back to the apartment.

"Yeah," he replied, slightly dazed, "I'm fine. What…what just happened?"

"I believe I can answer that question." Greg's eyes flew to Grissom's face. His expression was blank, but his eyes held a spark of relief.

"Come with me, Greg." He said, helping the younger man off the couch, "I'll explain everything."

>>>>>

The phone rang, startling the four CSIs. They exchanged glances, silently asking who would answer the call.

Taking in a deep breath, Catherine reached for the phone.

"Hello?" She said, her eyes scanning those of her co-workers. A mixture of hope and fear filled each pair of eyes.

"Yes," she said. "Okay…alright…bye."

"Well?" Warrick asked slowly.

"He's okay." Catherine smiled weakly, her eyes blurring with tears. "Greg is fine."

Warrick's strong arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace, and Catherine cried out all the anxiety and fear that had been crowding her emotions.

>>>>>

"She was going to kill me? But why?"

Leaning against Grissom's car outside of Meg's apartment building, Greg felt as if he would never understand what it was that the older man was telling him.

Meg, a killer? No, that couldn't be possible. She was so sweet, so kind. And Greg loved her. She couldn't possibly be a killer.

"That's what we're hoping to find out." Grissom replied calmly. Greg stared at him. Sometimes he wished that Grissom would show even the slightest emotion. This blank mask of his was starting to grate on Greg's last nerve.

"No," Greg shook his head, "I don't believe you."

"Greg, did you not see that she was holding a weapon? Did you not see what she was going to do?" Grissom cried. Finally, some emotion.

"I just…" Greg hung his head. He couldn't take this anymore. He couldn't handle it. "I just don't know what to think." He whispered as, finally, the events all caught up to him. Tears burned at the backs of his eyes and, slowly, one by one he let them fall down his cheeks and onto the hot pavement.

He felt a hand settle on his shoulder and squeeze tightly. This was obviously the most comfort that he would get from Grissom, but, strangely, it was enough.

>>>>>

It should be over by now. He looked down at his watch for the hundredth time that night. The call will come in any time now.

His cell phone sat on the table in front of him, ready. But it never rang. He wasn't worried though, at least not too much. She didn't always call him when the job was done. Sometimes she needed sometime to herself before she called. Or, sometimes, she didn't call at all, but waited for him to come to her to inform him that the job was finished. But no matter how she did it, he was always anxious to hear the news. He would sit on the edge of his seat until he heard from her, wondering if she'd had the balls to go through with it.

That was part of the game: giving her the signal. He always wanted to make sure that she was close to the victim before killing them. It wouldn't have been any fun if she'd just killed them like any other assassin: a simple gunshot to the head without ever looking into their eyes or talking to them, without ever becoming their friend. No, it was much more fun doing it his way.

>>>>>

Meg sat in her cell at the police station, awaiting which ever police officer it was that would escort her to the interrogation room where the CSIs that she had worked so closely with would act as if they had never met her in their lives. They would treat her like any other criminal they came across. They would treat this case as if it were like any other case they'd worked on. There would be no emotions to get in the way of their job, because they would simply wipe the Meg they knew from their memories. And they would replace that Meg with a woman that they had never seen before, that they had never talked with, that they had never befriended.

Tears streamed down her face as she waited. She knew it was weak, but she couldn't help it. Meg couldn't help the deep, bitter sadness that overtook her as she sat in that cell surrounded by other criminals. She bit her lip, trying to keep back the tears that still threatened to fall. She couldn't allow herself to fall apart. No, she needed to keep her wits about her in order to survive in the interrogation room. She needed to be sharp and to keep her mind in the game. For that's all this was. A game. And nothing more. At least that's what she kept telling herself.

It's just a game.

The words had become her mantra since the second the cell door slammed shut behind her. But Meg knew that it was so much more than that. It was payback.

An officer appeared at the door to her cell and unlocked the door. He looked down at her, his eyes barely looking at her. She was just like any other lowlife to him. She was invisible and dispensable to this man. Just another piece of scum that would no longer litter the streets of his fine city.

Meg stood and allowed him to handcuff her. The metal bit into her skin, but she didn't so much as wince. She was stronger than that. She had endured so much more than a little pinching in her wrist. Meg knew that she couldn't show any weakness. She could only show strength and defiance.

He led her into an interrogation room. Grissom and Catherine were already in there. Meg had hoped that it would only be Brass. Because she could keep her façade around him. She didn't know Brass well enough to feel guilty about hiding the truth. But Grissom and Catherine reminded her of something that she'd buried in her past. They reminded her of why she'd first joined the FBI. They made the guilt grow to twice its size. And Meg knew that soon her entire story would come pouring out to them. The question was, could she remember what the truth even was.

>>>>>

Alrighty folks, so we know that Greg is alright. But now the truth is about to come out. Do y'all think you can handle it? Lol. Please review and tell me what you thought. The more reviews, the quicker the next chapter comes out and the quicker y'all learn why Meg has been killing all these people.