a/n: heyyy i updated! woot. well thisbit is longer than i contemplated it would be do im gonna have to postpone my 'you wont know what happens next' to next chapter. WHICH im starting now so dont panic. it was originally meant to be part of this chapter but it got long. so ennjoy and be patient and hopefully i'll get the next up tonight!
Grissom sat flicking through the file pictures of the rape case.

Like I really need to see them again, he thought. The pictures were burned into his brain, like many of the more horrific cases he'd seen. The rape cases often were most of these. Not because of the scenes, but more about what Grissom could imagine what went on before he got there. What the victims had gone through.

What the killers and rapists had felt. He'd always wondered. He'd always wondered what was going through their heads. It sounds sick and twisted to want to know, but he just couldn't understand what these psychopaths were thinking. He sighed, waiting for the suspect to be brought in.

Sara watched from behind the black glass as Grissom sat in the interrogation room. It was the day after they'd processed the rape scene, and the victim had been identified as Charlotte Connors. A suspect was being interrogated in her murder. A rape kit had been taken, obviously, and the semen found had been used to get a hit off CODIS for a Heath Michaels.

There was a pretty good chance that this Michaels character was Charlotte's killer, unless the semen sample was planted. But as soon as he walked into that interrogation room, Sara knew. She knew it was him.

He was a tall, thin man with whipcord muscles. He had short, dark hair and a sharp 5 o' clock shadow and a fierce look in his eyes that said 'don't fuck with me' loud and clear. He was followed closely by Brass. He slammed himself down into the cold metal chair opposite Grissom.

Grissom kept his composure, sure to be unfazed by this measly attempt at intimidation. He was bigger than that. Grissom studied him for a moment, his eyes tightening on the black mark on the man's left forearm.

"Mr. Michaels, I presume," He said, a little coldly. Michaels grunted.

Sara, even from behind the glass, could tell that Heath Michaels was one of those men Grissom hated. Ones like that Ethan guy from the Jimson Weed case. Grissom hated three things: men who hit their wives, sexual assault on children, and the scum that deal death to kids.

And looking at this guy, he's probably done all three, thought Sara.

"No lawyer?" Grissom asked. Michaels looked up from where he'd been attempting to burn a whole through the metal table with his eyes.

"Do I look like the kinda guy who needs a lawyer?" He asked gruffly, "No. Of course not. And that's why you and your baboons got me in here. Just 'cause I don't look good don't mean I ain't."

Brass slapped a hand on the table.

"Shut up."

Michaels lifted his cuffed hands at Grissom.

"See what I mean?" Heath said fiercely. Grissom raised a calm eyebrow. He folded his hands on the table, pouting his lips as he was known to do when thinking.

"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Micheals?" He asked. Sara watched the preliminary interrogation, taking mental notes about the suspect. She had a gut instinct that this guy was the one. This guy had killed Charlotte Connors. She also took the opportunity to watch Grissom. Since he'd told her about his feelings for her, she'd been curious about him.

She wondered what he'd be like in a relationship. What was he like outside of work? Grissom was such an introverted and surprising man. He was mysterious, and that was part of what attracted Sara to him. She was jolted out of her thoughts as Grissom started the questioning.

"What were you doing at your ex-girlfriend's home when you were set to be married in a month?" He asked. Heath's face went red underneath the stubble.

"What the hell, man! I told you! I wasn't at Charlotte's!" He yelled. Grissom shook his head.

"Mr. Micheals, you're lying to me. And I don't like when people lie to me. I don't think you understand. Charlotte Connors ended up dead. And we found your prints at the scene," Grissom said calmly.

Sara understood what he was doing. An interrogation room tool – using a holdback. A holdback is something in a case that is not revealed at first to find out just how much a suspect knew. If Michaels knew she was raped, he was likely the one who raped her.

"I don't care if you found my fucking prints!" He cried. Then after a moment, "I lived there for three fucking months, my prints are bound to be there."

He had held back for a beat after explaining. He was likely contemplating if they knew she'd been raped. Grissom had once told her that many rape cases were personal, and had explained previously that this case was likely personal, given the mode of killing; the killer had slit her throat and the insides of her thighs.

Sara decided to sit in on this one. Leaving the room, she appeared on the other side of the glass a minute later. She walked in almost silently, Grissom's eyes meeting hers for only a fraction of a second and then flicking to Micheals'.

"Sara Sidle." Grissom introduced her with a motion of his hand. She sat next to him, trying to ignore the disgustingly hungry look on Heath Michaels' face as he stared at her.

Little did she know, so was Grissom. He hated this. Every time Sara was introduced to a male suspect, they all gave her that hungry look, the look that he found made him want to throw up. He didn't know how she could stand it. He would never even dream of looking at a woman like that, never even mind Sara. She was beautiful, and she was his. And he definitely knew that she didn't deserve it.

His eyes hardened on the suspect.

I'm gonna crack this guy if it's the last thing I do…

"Mr. Michaels, would you lift up your left sleeve please?" he asked. Michaels reluctantly obeyed, unaware of the black mark he had on his forearm. Grissom smiled.

"Thank you," Grissom said. He threw down the photo of the cross on Charlotte's stomach.

"This was found on Charlotte's stomach," Sara said, watching Michaels intently, "It's permanent marker that someone left behind after they killed her. Care to explain how it ended up on you?"

Michaels' eyes flicked left and then back to Grissom.

"I was helping my nephew with a project and I used a marker," He said quickly, "Is that a crime?"

"Depends if you used that marker to draw this on your ex-girlfriend," Grissom said. They sat in silence for a moment. Then Sara looked up at Michaels.

"Do you love your fiancé?" She asked him. His head shot up.

"What kinda fuckin' question is that?" He asked loudly. Brass started toward him.

"Watch your language around the lady," he warned.

"Yeah. Course I do, why else would I be marrying her?" He said, quite honestly, with only a hint of anger in his voice.

"Did you sleep with Charlotte when you were together?" Grissom asked him, knowing where Sara was going with this. The anger returned to the suspect's voice.

"Can you ask me that! It's personal, man!" He cried. Grissom just stared at him until his interviewee folded under his intensity.

"Fine. Yeah. I did. So? What's that got to do with anything?"

Grissom could tell he was getting uneasy. Getting closer to the subject of sleeping with Charlotte would be a touchy subject if he had indeed raped and killed her. Sara's eyes tightened on his.

"Did she love you?" She asked. He kept quiet.

"Answer the question!" Brass said forcefully.

"Yeah."

"Let me guess. She was still in love with you when you got engaged. Then, just before you were to be married, Charlotte told, didn't she? She sabotaged your wedding," Grissom said quietly, his deep voice rumbling off of the walls of the small room's walls. Michaels sat there staring at the floor, his face growing red and his hands starting to shake. Grissom pushed further.

"She told someone that you slept with her before you were married. And the Catholic Church does not approve sex before marriage, so your wedding was off, wasn't it?"

Grissom let the words soak in before finally accusing him.

"So, you killed and raped her, leaving behind the symbol of what she used to sabotage you. Her murder weapon. She killed you. And you hated her for it."

Michaels head snapped up.

"THAT BITCH FRIGGIN RUINED MY LIFE!" He yelled, slamming his hands on the table, his handcuffs making a metallic smack as it came into contact with the metal table.

"I killed her!" Tears streamed down his face. "I killed her. And you know what? I liked it. You know what it's like, Doc? To have the woman who ruined your life underneath you, powerless? I bet you have someone at home, don't you…yeah and when she goes and hurts you, you'll want to hurt her. And I did it. I hurt her. You'd be surprised at how good it feels…" He laughed, a psychopath's maniacal laugh.

Grissom and Sara just stared at him, half taken aback at his words.

Sick bastard, Grissom thought.

Michaels got a crazy look in his eyes, like he couldn't quite focus. He was roaring with laughter now.

"I bet you got someone like her!" He said, pointing to Sara, "Some skinny bitch like that that only wants you for your money. Someone like Charlotte. And one day she's gonna bit you in the ass and run away. And you'll no how it feels!" He roared.

Grissom stood up so quickly his chair clattered to the floor. And in the blink of an eye, he had Michaels pinned against the wall. His teeth gritted together and he stared at the man, his hand dangerously close to his throat.

"Don't you ever talk about her like that." He spat, letting go and watching in satisfaction as the tear-stained maniac slid to the floor.

"Arrest him." He said quietly to Brass. And with that, he was gone.


a/n: betcha dont know whats gonna happen next! -wink-