Michael Shapiro

The note that Charlie had left Brass contained nothing but that name. He did not recognize it, but he was sure that the rest of the team probably knew who he was. Reaching for his phone, he decided to call Catherine and ask. How long had he been out of it?

'Catherine, I need to-

She cut him off. 'They found Sara. She's unconscious but she's on her way to Desert Palms.'

'Thank God.'

'We have a John Doe here. He was underneath the elevator Sara was in-

'Wait, what elevator?'

'Long story but he's been mangled really bad. I hope he isn't one of ours.'

It was suddenly all so clear to him.

'Don't worry, Catherine. He's not.'

'What?'

'He's not one of ours. His name is Michael Shapiro.'


A week later:

The gun underneath her bed was the first thing Sara reached for as soon as she regained consciousness. She'd kept it there a few days ago, as soon as she had been told of what had happened to both Brass and Greg. Charlie had actually visited them- and ironically enough, he had not harmed them like the sick man he was supposed to have been.

"I brought food." Grissom stated "And don't worry. It's vegetarian." He added, realizing that she was eyeing the plate suspiciously.

"I didn't say anything." She paused. "So, you wanna tell me what happened after I blacked out last week?"

"You need to regain your-

She lifted her had in protest. "I've had enough rest, Grissom. Now give me the details so I wouldn't have to speculate anymore. I'm losing sleep because of it."

"Well, you know that yell you told me you'd heard when the elevator fell?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Let's just say it wasn't all in your head."


FLASHBACK:

Michael Shapiro groaned in pain as soon as he regained consciousness. Where the hell was he? Reaching for the lighter in his pocket, he realized that he was definitely not in control of the situation anymore. He had hidden for years in the suburbs, away from a conviction, and he was not surprised that he had finally been recognized.

What he didn't understand, was why the man had attacked him and brought him there instead of bringing him to the police like he deserved. The room was small, about 4 by 5 feet- so he definitely wasn't in some type of interrogation room.

Noticing the piece of paper in the middle of the room, he reached for it, recognizing who had written it, long before he had finished reading.

Mr. Shapiro,

If you're wondering why you're here, it is because you deserve it. What with that stunt you pulled a couple of years ago. How dare you try to pin your wife's murder on me?

I do not know who killed you wife Mr. Shapiro. I do not know if it was you. What I do know is that you faked evidence. You tried to put the blame on me and for that, you must be punished.

Look around you. Recognize you're surroundings? Well, you should. It's where you found your wife. You're inside an elevator shaft. – Only difference is, your wife was on top of the elevator and well, you're underneath it.

Don't worry, though. Look at the boards above you. The elevator does not go down to the level that you are in. You aren't going to be flattened to death.

A sigh of relief escaped him and he continued reading.

I still remember how fond you were of CSI Sidle. It got to me that you were honestly thinking that she was your ticket to freedom. Well, I don't think she is. But I'm also not the type of person to jump into conclusions. So I decided to make a little experiment.

Here's how it works: You're in that shaft, and Sara has to find you. Will Sara find you? Let's just hope she does.

Charlie.

He rolled his eyes at the letter. That was it? Reaching for a cigar in his pocket, he decided to wait it out. Sara would get him out. Eventually.

THE END

a/n: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm so happy. I finally finished it. Yay.