She shuddered in the cool of the apartment bedroom. Her captor had been considerate enough to lay a soft blanket over her partially naked form, but a moment of thrashing and screaming for assistance had thrown most of it off her. Now, all she had covered was one leg and part of her lower torso.

Damn, it was a cool afternoon.

She could feel the burn in her wrists that warned her she'd bruised and likely friction-burned the soft skin underneath her wrist. Her ankles, while they didn't burn, ached and throbbed. There was pressure pain in her buttocks and hips, which warned her that she should roll on to her side to maintain steady, even and unhampered blood flow to her lower extremities.

But aside from all that and a tingling pain at the site she was tasered she was doing pretty okay.

Her mind warred between anger, fear, frustration and hopelessness. It was hard for her, being the G-Force Swan, to be tied up like this with no contact with Mark and the team. Usually in cases like this she could taunt Zoltar for a little while, wait for Mark's telltale whistle, then smile, swoon and wait for rescue.

Now, however, she was alone … completely alone.

Her eyes wandered up to her communicator, which sat low on her wrist; too low for her to attempt to use. It sat there in a mocking manner, sometimes flashing with an unheard communication from someone in her team, sometimes vibrating for the same reason.

Frustrating ….

She licked at dry lips and let the fingers of her left hand wrap around the chains to the cuffs. She took a deep, shuddering, breath and closed her eyes. With a grunt she pulled her left hand down as close to her mouth as possible, unfortunately pulling her right hand into and awkwardly through the thin rail separations of the bed head.

She opened her mouth and let out a painful cry at the snapping of phalange in her index finger, and opened her eyes to a squint to see if she was within range to transmit a message. Her breathing panted as she pulled harder at the cuff to get closer.

She angled and extended her neck as much as possible.

"G … G3 to G1 … Mark …"

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

It had been roughly thirty minutes since Mark had been dragged out of the assignment discussion with Grissom and his team of investigators. While thirty minutes seemed like only a mere handful of minutes to most, and could be deemed no more than the time required for a couple of quick cigarettes and a coffee break, to the two merging teams, thirty minutes was an eternity.

Mark had been informed by Nick, after being assigned to an evidence room with Nick Stokes and Sara Sidle, that the crucial moments after an abduction or murder case, was 48 hours. After 48 hours, the statistics for finding enough information to rescue/prosecute/etc. was cut in half, then half again, and so on. So thirty minutes equated to just over 1% of the crucial moments they had left to find the missing Swan.

A long wasted 1%.

They were already three hours into the case. Three hours. 6%?

Oh who wants to speak in percentages?

1%, 6%, 20% or 50%. Any percentage of time wasted was unacceptable.

With that swirling through the young Commander's mind, it was somewhat understandable that he was acting impatient. Unlike a child demanding "are we there yet?" on a long trip, however, Mark was more hurried in actions, speech and analysis.

Nick and Sara did their best to ignore the impatience. Together they methodically worked through what they had and tried not to notice the pacing and harsh sighs of the other occupant in the room. At times, though, it was difficult.

Sara tweezed a piece of fabric, now known to be a piece of Princess' civilian uniform, and held it in front of a magnifying glass. She tried not to focus on the white flash of the Eagle's wings past the fabric as she held it to the light.

Finally, however, she had to comment.

"Commander?"

He stopped mid-stride and turned his face to her. "Call me Mark, please."

She took in a deep breath and shifted the fabric and magnifying glass to one side to look at him. "Mark. I need you to stop pacing. Your wing fabric tends to catch the light, and it's distracting me."

His head tilted to one side, and for a moment it seemed that he might react on her harshly. Instead, however, his cheek ticked and he nodded. "Of course, I'm sorry."

She pointed to a stool beside where he was seated and flicked her shoulder to tell him to sit. "Maybe if you worked through this with us, rather than just waiting for us to find something, it might make you feel better."

His face fell into a genuine smile of gratitude. "Thank you, but I'll just get in your way."

Nick sniffed from his position across the table from Sara, where he had both eyes in a microscope looking at hair samples. "It'll be less distracting to us than you stalking the room." He raised his head from the scope and reached across for another slide. "You're actually as intimidating as the rumours suggest. I'm scared that if we come up with bupkis I'll suddenly be eunuched by a fast striking bladerang."

"Birdrang," Mark corrected softly with a smile. "And don't be so concerned, right at this point, there is only one person I wish to use it on."

"Promise me that, Mark," Nick muttered with a smirk as he inserted his new slide into the arms of the microscope. "Because sitting here with my legs crossed this tightly is really beginning to get uncomfortable."

The admission drew a snort from Sara who, although ready to fire off about three separate and brilliantly witty counter comments, simply just drew the fabric back into her field of vision. "Maybe if I'm forced to explain to you what I'm doing, it'll make me a little more … how do I say it?…"

"Focused?" Mark offered as he took a seat beside her.

She flashed him a brilliant smile and nodded as she leaned in and held the fabric up to the light so that they could both look at it. "How's your vision?"

He leaned his forearms on the table and moved his head in close to hers to look up at the fabric. "10/10, why?"

She smirked. "The visor magnifies, right?"

He shook his head. "Nah. It distorts if anything. It's more designed for intel transfer than anything."

Nick's attention was immediate. "What, you mean, like. When you're out in the field, and the bosses need to get you some blue prints or something, it'll flash on your visor?"

Mark's eyes blinked slowly. "The shape isn't just a cosmetic design to match the uniform, Nick. The angles and contours actually … well …" he gave a laugh. "Well, I barely understand it all. Princess tried to explain it to me, but I didn't totally get it all."

"Just a tactician, eh?"

Mark caught the tease and reacted with a shrug. "Tactician, pretty boy, pilot – That's about all the multi-tasking I can do."

Nick snorted, Sara rapped him on the helmet. "Focus, Eagle."

Mark smiled, grateful that Nick and Sara were able to calm him down and relax him a little. He let his eyes focus on the fabric and listened as she explained what exactly she was looking for. The moment she inhaled sharply and broke out into a huge smile and almost cheered "Epithelials!", his communicator began to flash a deep magenta colour.

His eyes widened and fell to the bracelet. "Princess?" he asked softly, hopefully.

"G … G3 to G1 … Mark …"

He heard the strain in her voice as she called to him. He immediately bolted from his chair and quickly strode to the glass wall of their room to rap his knuckles against it to get Jason's attention.

"Princess! Princess, it's Mark. Are you okay?" He looked up at Jason through the glass and pointed at the communicator. Immediately Jason, Grissom, and Anderson moved to join the threesome in the adjacent examination room.

"Mark, please don't talk," she said with a sigh in her tone. "My bracelet's on mute, I can't hear you."

"Dammit," he cursed low, "How are we going to get any information from her?"

Jason frowned. "She sounds like she's in pain."

"I'll instruct Zark to induce an endorphin rush for her." Anderson offered lowly as he pulled a cell-phone from his pocket.

Princess transmitted again.

"Mark. I'm okay," she said breathlessly. "I have a couple of bruises, a broken finger, a nasty burn from the taser, but other than that I'm okay. Um, I'm just cold. He left me wearing only my underwear …"

"Tell us where you are," Mark said into the communicator. "Tell us where you are so we can find you."

"Typical guy," she giggled softly, then grunted uncomfortably. "Never listen. I can't hear you. I'm cuffed on a bed, and can't reach the communicator to send a scramble or switch it to voice – maybe the Chief can do it remotely?"

Mark raised his eyes to Anderson, who shook his head at the unasked question. "Ahh shit."

Grissom leaned on the doorframe and cleared his throat. "Can you trace her communications?"

Mark huffed. "Only onboard the Phoenix. Keyop would need her pass codes to do that – if he was onboard. The whole team are here."

"That's a fairly easy solve I would think."

Jason nodded in agreement with Grissom. "The kid's been reading her online diary for years, I'm pretty sure if he can crack her codes on the laptop, he can crack it on Big Blue."

Mark cleared his throat, somewhat embarrassed that he wasn't exactly proving why he was Commander right now. "I have all the override codes. Jason, tell Tiny and Keyop to board the Phoenix and remain on board for further instruction. I'll forward the information via Zark."

Jason smirked and looked at Anderson. "You're good at giving orders, Chief. You wanna do it."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not telling the big guy he's off the investigation."

Mark pressed his hand on the table beside Nick's Microscope and kept his communicator high near his mouth. "Will someone do it sometime this millennium?" He shook his head slowly as Anderson walked out of the room and flicked his hand for Tiny and Keyop to follow him.

Princess appeared to sigh softly. "I'm guessing that seeing I haven't heard your voice that the Chief can't do it. I'm going to have to try and tell you what I think you need to know."

"That's my girl," Mark said softly. He pointed to a notebook in front of Sara. "Sara, would you mind?"

She nodded. "Concentrate on her, Mark. I'll take down anything relevant to our investigation."

Nick pulled a small voice recorder from his back pocket. He held it to the side of Mark's wrist. He smirked when he caught Mark's single raised brow look. "Hey, man. Archie might be able to get something from the background noise."

"Thank you."

"I can't tell you where I am, Mark, or even who really took me. All I can get from my surroundings is a bare bedroom and …" she shifted and groaned "…sometimes a misty chill through the window. It's not constant, but every so often it makes me shudder."

Mark raised his eyes to Grissom, who was in a pursed-lips concentration of her words. He didn't interrupt the older man in fear of distracting his mind from the call. A quick sweep of the eyes revealed that all three investigators were in the same state of mind. The only one who seemed to have any other distraction from the call was Sara, who was busy wiping the fabric with a clear piece of tape. He could see, though, by the twitch in her cheek, that she was listening as closely as possible to what Princess was saying. The pencil scratch on the note-pad, too, was clear evidence that Sara's focus was sharp.

Thank the Lord for level heads.

"About my captor. Mark, I don't know exactly who he is, or what his actual motives are towards the other girls … But I have a fair idea why he went after me."

"Because you're the Swan?" Nick sighed to himself, which immediately drew a dark look from the Eagle.

"He doesn't know I'm part of G-Force," She said softly, as if answering Nick's comment. "For the moment, he knows me only as Sarah. I'd really like it if you could keep it that way – please, no press conferences or anything like that. I'm actually scared about what will happen if he finds out."

Mark looked across at Grissom. "No further than your immediate team, Grissom."

"I have to agree with you on that."

"So. Uh. Mark. I need you to promise me you won't get mad at me. Promise me. This time I want you to respond. I can feel the vibration on my wrist when you answer."

"Why would I be mad?" he asked with a frown. "I won't get mad, Prin."

She sighed and whimpered simultaneously. "If it helps you find him, the guy who took me … Um. Remember back when I was attacked down town; you know. The night you finally actually decided to make your move on me?" She let out a small giggle and then ended it with a sigh. "I should have let you and Jason go after him …"

Both Mark and Jason flashed horrified glances at each other. Both of them breathed the same, regretful "no".

"Yeah. You know I watch Law and Order SVU all the time, and I yell at the screen when those girls who get attacked don't report it, and then another girl gets raped or killed … And I go ahead and do the same thing."

"Don't dwell on it, Sweetheart. Just tell us how to find you," Mark urged more for his own benefit than Princess'.

"It's my fault, you know," She moaned painfully. "If I'd reported the incident, or had let you and Jason go all G-Force Knights on him, then the last two girls would still be alive, and I'd be at dinner with you …"

Sara tilted her head sympathetically at Mark. This was a scenario that she saw far too often. "I wish you could tell her it's not her fault, Mark, because it isn't."

Mark closed his eyes and sighed. "We'll never be able to convince her of that."

"No. I know."

"But. I can wallow in my own guilt and loathing later. Mark, on my laptop, in a hidden folder on the desktop is twelve months of communication from this guy. He calls himself Chris, and …" She whimpered, obviously holding off crying. "Well. His emails are pretty bad. I really should have seen this coming, but I really thought he was just all talk, you know. And I'm the Eagles' girlfriend. I thought I was safe from your average run of the mill scary guy."

"I'm sorry I let you down, Princess," he answered with a sad blink of the eye that freed a solitary tear from his lashes.

"I assume you're at the Crime Lab – possibly working with Doctor Grissom and his team. Trust him, Mark. If anyone can find me, his team can … Just …" she let out a gasp. "A Cop. Mark, I just remembered. This guy is a cop … I think he said he was a criminalist." She was heard to begin to struggle against her ties. God, Mark. Please tell me you and Jason haven't stormed the lab and ordered a complete lab lockdown until you find me. I don't need them to know who I am. If he finds out, then I'm dead."

Jason's face fell in to a long glare that was divided between the two male criminalists sharing the evidence room with him. "Someone working here …" the words were spoken so darkly that Nick shuddered.

"I promise you, Condor. I have a damn solid alibi for the past 12 hours."

"As have all of my team," Grissom said smoothly, calmly, as if shrugging off the unspoken threat from the world's most dangerous man. "If what your Swan says is true, that the killer is someone in this lab – then he's not part of my team."

Mark's demeanour fell in to a mirror of Jason's. "I think you know what you have to do, Doctor Grissom."

"It's not that easy, Commander," Grissom retorted calmly. "I can't just lock down this lab. There are over a hundred employees here at any given time. There are three shifts. If I start calling every one of them in, then they're going to know we're on to them."

"Don't make us do it, Doctor. I can assure you that the interrogations won't be pleasant if we are forced to do it."

Sara pressed her fingers into the table and pushed herself to a stand. She blew a long breath of air out through pursed lips and stepped to the open door to close it. "We don't need the entire lab to hear this conversation," she muttered quietly. She took up a protective position beside Grissom and ran her tongue across her top lip as she regarded Mark with false bravado. "Grissom's right, Mark. We have to take this carefully. Let us work through what we have, we'll look through the time sheets and eliminate those who are female, or were on duty at the time of her abduction."

"Which means he can walk out of here in the meantime and go back to her."

Grissom angled his head into a light tilt. "We can make that more difficult than you make it seem. We don't need to panic this man into returning to her to kill her."

"And we don't need to waste time."

"It's better than rushing into it and making mistakes."

Mark's lip curled into a manner that was more Condor than Eagle. "Rushing into it is what we do best."

Grissom remained steadfastly calm under the glares of the G-Force leaders. He raised his head and gave Mark a sideward stare. "This isn't a G-Force mission, Commander. This is an abduction investigation. Remember that the victim here is your third in Command and your lover. You aren't exactly thinking rationally right now."

Princess' scared voice crackled through light static, once more. "Mark. I'm scared. I really need you here right now. But please don't do what I know you're doing right now. I'll be safe enough if they all don't know who I am. You can tell Doctor Grissom, and maybe his immediate team – I know it's not them. Tell them that their killer is a white guy, he's got dark hair, is, um …." She hiccupped and held her breath. "God, Mark I have to go … I think someone's here … I … Bye .."

Her communication cut abruptly. Mark frantically called her name and punched his thumb into the communicator as if expecting the action to bring her back to the conversation.

She didn't.

He took a couple of deep breaths and lowered his head. His shoulders heaved with his breathing and his face scrunched in frustration.

It took a long few seconds before anyone could say anything, and it was Jason who chose to do so. "Skipper. There's a very expensive microscope at ten o'clock just within reach …"

He felt six eyes lock on his shoulder as his rotator cuff slowly turned and rippled a contraction through his shoulder. In response to Jason's comment, Mark's hand suddenly shot forward to grab the item in question. His fingers barely had time to grasp it firmly before he let out a loud yell and spun to throw it against the nearest wall. As a follow-though, he launched at the wall beside it. He threw himself against it, fists, then forearms, then a twist and shoulder. Letting a kempt emotion finally burst free, he lay his glass visor against the wall as if pressing his forehead against it. His arms raised above his head to lay on the wall, and he began to sob.

Sara, ignoring the fact that a $3000 piece of equipment had just been destroyed, stepped forward with the intention of offering this twenty-something kid some sympathetic support. She was surprised when a navy-blue gloved hand shot out in front of her to prevent her approach. She looked up with a frown to the Condor.

"Leave him," he ordered firmly.

Her eyes widened and head jutted forward in confusion as she used both her hands to indicate the Eagle's shaking form. "But he needs support, Condor."

"And you giving him a hug and saying "there, there" isn't going to do anything except upset your boyfriend. He doesn't need you to get maternal on him, he needs you to do your job."

"Oh come on …"

Grissom sighed and shook his head from beside her. "Sara …" It was a warning, a gentle warning, but a warning none-the-less. "We have work to do."

She slouched and gave Grissom a look that told him she was falling hard and fast into her empathetic trap. "But, Griss…"

"I heard you cheer earlier," he tried, hoping that putting her mind back onto evidence might take her mind off the slowly settling Eagle. "Did you find something we can use?"

Her head ticked to one side and mouth stretched into a smile. "Yes. Yes. Looks like the perp might have left us a gift on her shirt fragment."

"Tell me it's biological, Sara. Make my day."

She stepped over fragments of the scope that had sprayed across the floor and swept small pieces off the tape she'd been wiping the fabric with. "Epithelials, Griss. Lots."

He actually smiled. "Take it to Wendy, tell her it's a priority." He turned his attention to Jason, and a still horrified looking Nick. "Condor. Please see to your Commander, we may need his and your services very soon. Nick. Come with me."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Princess' breath held heavy in her chest as she listened hard to the sound that had caused her to break communication with Mark.

Oh she hoped that he managed to hear her okay. She hadn't been able to give him too much information, but she was sure that it would be enough to at least give the criminalists a head start on their investigation. She was intimately familiar with this case, and knew that Doctor Grissom and his team were heading up the serial case.

Grissom. That was a name she knew very, very well. He was a brilliant man and a gifted scientist. She'd even snuck into a lecture early on in the war, when he took part in a forensics seminar she was required to attend in order to glean information on explosives. In between seminars, she'd crept in to his Entomology lecture.

She hoped that Mark and Jason would offer him the freedom and leeway to do what he did best.

Although, knowing the two of them, that might not be what would happen.

The rattle of the door handle in another room startled her. It took everything she had not to whimper in fear of what was to come.

"Hello," a soft voice with a decidedly new-immigrant accent called. "Room service."

Princess blinked. Room service? She was in a hotel?

Her breath expelled, then inhaled hard. Time to yell for assistance.

As she readied to voice her need for help, her captor's voice boomed almost robotically back to the woman.

"No need for your service today. My wife is not well. I'll call the front desk when we are ready for service. Thank you."

Princess groaned softly. Chances were that if this woman found out she was held captive, the killer would probably take her too.

"Damn," she whispered to herself. She couldn't put another woman through this.

Not another one.

She lay her head back down heavily on the bed and closed her eyes tightly. Her killer was obviously still around.

But. Wait a minute.

Her eyes flashed open in horror. She'd sent a transmission to Mark. She hadn't been quiet about it.

He had to know now, that she was the Swan.

Dammit!

Her breath began to come in pants as she considered what this man might be planning for her. She knew his Modus Operandi. She knew he tortured and killed his victims in horrific manner.

She couldn't help it. Impending doom and the thought of what was to come brought her to panic. She fell into complete feminism – she began to weep.

"Mark," she breathed sadly. "Please help me."

A click from the adjacent room caught her attention and he inhaled her tears for a silent moment. She heard the distinct sound of a piece of audio equipment click in and out as if there was interference.

A recording?

Her captor had made a recording?

Her face fell at the discovery. Her only chance for escape was lost.

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Grissom was his usual stoic self as he strode beside Nick towards a destination as yet unspecified. In all his years working within law enforcement, investigation, and with the Coroner's office, he could honestly say there was little that affected him any more. Detachment was always an easy ask. A bug is a bug, a body a body, a bullet a bullet, and a puzzle a puzzle. Some puzzles were easier than others, as within the toy kingdom, others – well – like a Rubik's Cube, were fairly unsolvable.

Up until this very moment, he'd believed this case would be filed quite neatly in that pile. However, like the mystery of the cube, all it could take was a simple little shift, a single tiny piece of enlightenment, and the puzzle would be solved.

Grissom had yet to actually solve a Rubik's Cube, but he was sure that this puzzle would come together. If it wasn't for the fact that they might lose this woman, barely out of childhood, in the process, he might dance himself a jig, or gloat to his pet tarantula.

Of course, he couldn't hide the merest hint of a satisfied smirk behind pursed lips like he usually did. Fortunately Nick didn't seem to notice.

"He's human after all."

Grissom let his eyes slide to the Texan and raised a curious brow. "The Eagle?"

Nick didn't look at his supervisor at all when he spoke. He stared down at the floor as if searching for an answer. "He's portrayed as larger than life; a hero who can overcome the greatest odds to lead him team to victory; a real-life Superman."

Grissom nodded. "He's much different in the flesh, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's not so bullet-proof and invincible. He's …" he let out a breath and raised his eyes as Grissom opened the door to the computer lab and held it open with his palm to let Nick through first. "Vulnerable. Just like us."

"Yes," Grissom said slowly as he pointed to a chair in a silent request for Nick to sit in it. "Yes, he is."

Nick pulled a chair from under the desk and took a seat, robotically pulling toward him a grey wireless keyboard. He pressed the space-bar key and looked up at the monitor as it slowly ticked and warmed up. "I'm never falling in love, Griss."

"Yes you will."

Nick shook his head. "After watching you almost lose Sara, and now Mark and his … Sarah …" One brow flicked on his head. "No. I just won't fall in love with anyone named Sarah."

Grissom set his clipboard on the desk and flicked a sideward glance at Nick. "That joke's already been made today."

Nick actually opened his mouth in a single, hearty laugh. "Oh let me guess. Brass?"

The voice of the man in question sounded off from the doorway. "Whatever I'm being accused of is a complete and utter lie." He didn't wait for a witty response or an invite into the lab. He walked straight through the doorway, into the room and took the seat that Grissom was preparing to sit down in. "So what'd I miss?"

Grissom was the one who answered the question as he watched Nick expertly access the LVPD database. "The Swan made contact with her Commander."

"She okay?"

Grissom kept his eyes on the monitor. "For the moment, yes."

Brass ticked in air through his teeth. "And there's more, right?" He caught a glance from Grissom and shrugged. "I just walked past an evidence room where the Eagle looked like a mess. The Condor is eyeballing everyone suspiciously … and dangerously … What's going on?"

Grissom let out a long breath. "He's a cop, Jim."

Brass let out a cough. "What?"

"Yeah," Nick confirmed as he began to tap search criteria into the main screen. "The Swan said our killer is a cop." He turned his head regretfully to Brass. "Criminalist, she thinks, that works here at the lab."

"Oh, shit."

"And then some," Grissom sighed. "If we don't get something viable and concrete to offer the Federation heads before Security Chief Anderson finds out, they'll tear this department apart."

"I.A. will storm the place inside a second if they catch wind of this."

Grissom nodded. "The Commander might be insisting for now that we head up this investigation, but only until this gets out. "

Brass blew out a quick breath of air in agreement. "I'd much rather handle an internal investigation than let someone suspicious from the outside in."

"Sara can handle anything internal," Grissom offered. "She's probably the best choice, less bias than most other officers."

"The most suspicious and ready to kick some ass," Nick corrected with a smirk as he scanned through a list of potential suspects. "Put her with the Condor and we'll find the killer in no time."

"No," Grissom asserted with a grunt. "If there is anything internal, I want Mark and Jason as far away from it as possible. Their presence in the lab is bad enough, if the killer got wind that they were questioning the staff, he'll bolt and we'll lose the Swan."

"And our chance at a clean arrest," Brass finished. "There are a lot of families out there that want some justice. If we let those guys loose – well, who knows what will happen."

"Shoot first, ask questions later," Nick muttered. "Condor justice."

"But that's not our justice," Grissom affirmed. "We need this to be clean, with no room for reasonable doubt. The Las Vegas people will want absolute confirmation that this is the killer."

"Yeah, but do we really want them to know it's one of us?"

"Yes," Grissom answered quite matter-of-factly. "Cops can be killers too. Just like fire fighters, mothers, daughters, sons, fathers …"

Brass groaned and nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah. So what about the winged ones? What do we do about them?"

"Yeah," Nick droned as he tagged a couple of potential suspects. "Cause you know they want in."

"Distract them with evidence, Nick. Make them think that's the only course of action we have right now."

Nick tilted his head and widened his eyes in an "I hope you know what you're doing" manner. "Good luck with that."

"Luck is half our job."