a/n: err... I wrote this chapter in a free-flowing jiffy so forgive me if there are any run on sentences. And thank you for the reviews. I really appreciate them. This story is almost over. About 2 or 3 more chapters. I have another story up. I don't know what to do with it yet. I'm having so much fun with this. LOL. Heheheheeh...
"What you need my gun-
Before the agent could even register what was happening, Sara had his own gun drawn at him- her right pointer finger wrapped around the front of the trigger as if she were afraid that he'd jump at her. Had she gone crazy? He didn't think so. The CSI's composure might have made it seem like she had, but her eyes told a different story. Her eyes showed that there was a logical explanation for her sudden turnabout.
With reflex, the agent pulled his extra gun onto the CSI and the two eyed each other down: Sara, in shock that she had not thought about the FBI agent having an extra gun and the agent, in confusion as to what was going on.
Looking up, he saw that the darkness of the shaft made Grissom and the others oblivious to what was happening. The two of them were fighting a silent battle with their guns and their eyes, and he knew that the only way they would know what was going on, was if someone pulled the trigger.
"Get out of here." Sara whispered so calmly that it almost seemed as if she was not grasping a loaded gun in her hand. She was never one for games and she realized that the agent wasn't either. She'd never thought she'd ever met an FBI agent who, instead of doing as told and trying to negotiate, would draw his own gun. She'd expected, years ago, that she would be surprised and impressed if she would ever come across an agent like that and now that she did, she was surprised but hardly impressed. She wanted nothing more than to get this over with- and it hadn't even hit her that he would actually fight back.
"Have you gone crazy?" He croaked, his voice barely a whisper. "What are you doing?"
Sara shook her head. What was she doing? She was pointing a gun at someone who was on her side and though her reasons made perfect sense to her, it seemed to be nothing but a temporary craze to the man in front of him.
Sighing, she decided that she had nothing else to do except try to make him understand what she was doing, try to get him to help her. "Listen to me. I know how to get everyone out of this whole situation but it involves everyone having to evacuate- which is why you have to get out of here. I'm not going to shoot you but you have to get out."
The agent raised a brow as if it were the most absurd thing he had heard. "Get out? I'm not leaving you here. Look, lady, I may not know you. But it's my job to help you and I'm not leaving."
"This is exactly why I drew my gun out. I know you FBI types can be hard-headed."
"It comes after years of negotiating with the creepiest sons-of-a-bitches" He reasoned and she saw the sides of Sara's lips curve in agreement. There must have been something about the way she smiled that made anyone feel at ease in a tense situation because his next words came out of him like he was talking to a friend he had known for years, like he wasn't in an elevator shaft talking to a suspect, victim, or whatever the hell Sara should be called now that she had seemingly turned the tables. "Maybe if you tell me what's going on, I'll be able to help you." Eyes darting towards her injured leg, he continued. "You aren't exactly looking like a million bucks."
She nodded, both in agreement and defeat. As much as she did not want to involve anyone but herself in all of this- she was, after all, very positive, that she was the reason for all this- she knew she had no choice. Pointing to the direction of the three wires that held the shaft up, she realized she had a lot of explaining to do.
"Those screws over there." She started. "They don't just hold the wires to the shaft. You've probably heard of the guy's M.O. right? Well, I got a letter for him saying that if I took all the screws out the bombs would deactivate. Only problem is-
"The shaft would collapse if you do that." The agent continued.
Sara shrugged. "I figure I have a couple of seconds to grab onto that rope ladder over there."
"With that leg?"
She rolled her eyes and continued. "Now, as much as I want to believe this guy, I can't ever be sure that he's telling the truth. Serial killers are unpredictable and I can never be sure that taking them off will deactivate all the explosives." She paused. "This is where you come in. I want you to get everyone evacuated."
The look on the agents face showed that he only half agreed with the situation and he did. She was entirely right, they still did need to evacuate. But a large part of him could not accept what that the CSI was willing to risk her life to get through this. "I can't let you do this by yourself. I need to stay here. Besides, how the hell will I get them to evacuate?"
A small smile appeared on Sara's face before she pulled the trigger on the gun she was holding. Shaking at the thought of being shot, the agents face turned into a combination of shock and confusion when he found that he was perfectly fine. She had targeted the wall and the bullet had embedded itself on the wall.
There was something about the way the CSI was smiling that said that she wanted him to act on something now, and it only took the click of several guns to make him realize what she had wanted him to do.
Nodding in acknowledgement at Sara, he reached the ladder and began making his way up. He shook his head concluding that what he was about to do was by far the most insane lie he would ever tell in his entire life. "Man down! Man down! We need to evacuate the building! The bomb has been triggered. Approximately 2:40 seconds left!"
Confident, that they already were evacuating, Sara Sidle began taking of the first of the third screws. She wondered if Grissom had caught the mistake the agent had done. 2:40? The timer had been set for 2:00. For his sake, she hoped to God that he did miss it.
