Mark was silently standing at the door to the AV room, having being stalled by a ghost-faced Jason from entering, when Grissom came wandering back around the corner. Grissom made an obvious shift of his belt when he saw Mark, but gave no other real reaction to seeing the raised brow questioning look of the G-Force Commander.

It was Mark who made the first move to entice a conversation.

"Doctor, did you lose your way?"

Grissom fixed him with a curious stare. "Excuse me?"

Mark thumbed over his shoulder. "I thought the washroom were that a way?"

"Oh," Grissom muttered with a flush of red creeping up his neck. "We have several in this building. I prefer a more private venue than the main facility."

"I see."

In an attempt to sway the topic from washroom habits, Grissom pointed a finger toward his office. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ask you a couple of questions concerning Sarah's attack previous to her abduction."

Mark's brow flicked. "That will help?"

Grissom walked past him and headed toward his office. "Anything helps, Commander."

Mark was quick to agree, thankful that there seemed to be something new to work through. "Of course. But I am unsure I have much to offer you beyond a date."

"It's better than nothing."

As Mark fell into step behind him, his wrist tingled with an incoming transmission. The fact that there was no familiar chime to the notification meant that it was a message from his LVPD informant. He paused and waved for Grissom to continue into the office without him. "Doctor. This is a communication from our forensics team, I will be with you in a short moment."

Grissom offered a short nod and left Mark alone in the corridor. When he was sure he was alone, he raised his wrist to his lips. "Go ahead, David."

Hodges responded as if he was leaving a message on an answering machine. "Commander. About your request for information … This is what I found out." He took a breath. "Grissom received the results from the benefits search and had only one hit. You're familiar with him. It's Chris Weston. He's working in Trace under me right now."

Mark's eyes ticked but his only response was a grunt.

So Hodges continued. "He asked Sara to rally the team to play covert ops behind your back. Brass and Sara, I guess, will be calling him in for interrogation. Nick and Warrick will be doing background checks. Grissom intends to blackball you for as long as possible."

Mark cleared his throat in irritation and let his gaze shift to the open door of Grissom's office. "What else do they have on him right now?"

"He fits all the criteria, Commander. Grissom wouldn't go ahead if he didn't have enough to warrant a discussion."

Mark narrowed his eyes and grunted. "Thank you, David. I appreciate your help."

"Any time Commander. I want you to find your girl as much as you do."

The Eagle commander dropped his hand to his hip and took a deep breath in contemplation. He was sorely tempted to turn tail and bolt toward the trace lab to accost and physically interrogate this Chris fellow, but found pause only because of Grissom's hesitation in sharing the information. Princess had specifically asked that he trust the Entomologist, and as much as the urge to practice Eagle justice on a potential suspect, he had to trust Princess' instinct about the man.

He slowly, painfully raised his communicator to his lips. "G-1 to G-2 Jase?"

"Ears on, Skipper."

Mark took a deep, cleansing – well it would have been cleansing if he weren't in the LVPD crime lab where one of the employees was an unfound killer – breath. "Jason I need you to do something for me."

Jason sounded leery when he responded. "Yeah, okay, what?"

"Do you remember the Star Trek fan from earlier? The one you said you'd prefer to work with on this?"

"I said I'd have preferred him as a go to rather than the creepy guy you chose," he corrected flatly.

Mark let out a short breath of a chuckle. "Semantics. Look, I want you to spend the next hour or so attached to his hip."

Jason's tone took on a low rumble. "Any particular reason why, Skip?"

"Working a hunch, Jase."

"I can take him outside if you want."

Mark raised his eyes to look at the Condor standing only a handful of metres away from him. It was easy for him to note the sudden shift in stature to the hulking and predatory Condor. He gave his second a shake of the head. "No, Jason. I just want you to work with him a while."

"You know something, don't you?"

Mark shook his head slowly. "No more than you, Jase. Just call it one of my … ESP moments."

"Which are accurate more often than not."

"Play nice, okay?"

"Whatever."

"I mean it, Jason. I don't want people thrown through windows, pissing their pants, bleeding, of swearing allegiance to whatever deity you force them. You just have to work with him, that's all."

"Whatever."

"Oh, and Jase?"

"Yeah?"

Mark's voice dropped an octave. "If any of the investigators try to take him away, question him, take him to lunch, I want you with."

"How much of a hunch is this, Mark?"

"I'm really not completely sure, Jase. Let's just say it's reliable, but not completely confirmed."

"You'll tell me …" he took a deep breath and took on a dangerous tone "…if and when the confirmation is made, right?"

"You'll be the second to know."

Jason didn't respond verbally, instead he gave his Commander a slow blink of blue/grey eyes. He then turned and slowly stalked his way down the hallway toward where he believed Trace might be.

Mark let out a long breath as he watched the back of his second's wings disappear down the corridor. He thumbed at his nose and clicked air in through his teeth as he peered toward Grissom's office door.

Perhaps Grissom was prepared to share?

~~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~~

One thing about the G-Force Condor was that his perception and memory retention were fairly second to none. He was so good, in fact, that he boasted he could detect the subtle shift in the air from a gnat's fart, upwind, across the country, with toilet paper up his nose. True, he could feel the shudder in a terrified man's body from across the street as he lined him up in a sniper scope. He could scan, memorize and analyse every exit point so that when the shit hit the fan, he'd have an easy exit.

…But a gnat's fart?

These were all skills necessary not only in battle, but essential after a long night with his friend Jack Daniels when he awoke in beds belonging to mysterious blonde women when their significant Others arrived home.

He had no real desire to announce his new mission parameter to anyone outside the team. So when he'd disappeared from the Audio lab he needed to find his way there, no deviation, and no explanation. Investigators seemed to want far too much information when asked a simple question and he had no desire to waste time explaining anything. When Sara had led he and Keyop toward the Audio room, he'd scanned every inch of the hallway and each separate room, including lab monkeys, just in case something interesting cropped up.

If these guys wanted to hide information, he'd do his best to do the same.

Fuck 'em. Princess' life was at stake, and them wasting time was not going to help her.

The target for this mission was Chris. He probably appeared younger than he truly was. His hair was a sandy-blonde, and at a length that was obviously between his standard cut time. To mask the regrowth, he'd plastered some form of gel or wax on it to style it into something that may have been stylish, but looked bloody awful. It was set with lopsided spikes that could be equated only to a shower Mohawk that was weighed down with water and suds. Jason figured that the style was probably rock-hard and immoveable.

Chris wore an over-worn lab coat that was a rainbow of colours from various chemical stainings. The smell of the coat was a heavy combination of all chemicals, with the most overbearing appearing to be ammonia, or something else as toxic. His safety glasses had to be at least two times too big for him, but were styled in the latest fashion that were probably specifically designed with prescription lenses and were, therefore, his and his alone.

A Geek, Jason surmised as he leaned a shoulder against the door and let his eyes fall onto a small, but highly expensive, CD player beside his scope. A try-hard fashion wannabee, which reeked of coke bottle bottom glasses, A-student, ink stain in the pocket geek.

The kind Jason would have beaten on a regular basis – had he ever actually attended a proper high school.

His ears twitched at the unmistakable voice and beat of Talking Heads and for a moment, he paused to try and pick the song – and almost laughed when he caught the target of his mission singing along.

Psycho Killer.

How bloody appropriate.

"You start a conversation you can't even finish it.
You're talkin' a lot, but you're not sayin' anything.
When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed.
Say something once, why say it again?"

Jason's brow flicked upward. With a smirk that would have immediately alerted any member of his team that he was about to scare the living shit out of someone, he slid silently into the room.

Chris, oblivious to the stealthy Condor's approach, continued to sing along with the music.

"Psycho Killer …"

Jason leaned his mouth down toward Chris' ear and smirked as he smoothly breathed the next line.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" A.N. Translation into English "What is that?"

With the hot and dangerous voice in his ear, Chris jumped. His surprise was such that the test tube of clear liquid and micropipette in his hand shot skywards. He stumbled and yelped like a wounded dog as he attempted to prevent both crashing onto the table or floor.

"Hodges," he spat venomously, "I swear to God I am going to kick your ass if you don't stop…" His words caught in his throat when he turned to find the condor smirking devilishly behind him. "What the fu…?"

"Psycho Killer?" he asked smoothly. "That's a fairly ominous tune for your profession."

"Criminal Mind," Chris corrected as he attempted to wipe a new stain off his lab coat, "would be a more questionable song."

Jason smirked and folded his arms across his chest and leaned his back against the doorframe. "Never was a Gowan fan."

"No," Chris snorted as he turned his back to Jason in order to attempt to save any part of his sample. "I'd expect you to be more of a Nine Inch Nails or Metallica fan."

Jason shrugged. "Zepplin, actually, when Princess is strumming along to 'em."

Chris let his eyes slide across to Jason. "The Swan plays?"

"Yep. She's a hell of a guitar player. Plays electric with a band at Jill's on Fridays." He smirked. "But she does it best on acoustic."

Chris smirked. "Well we've got a couple in the evidence locker from the slaying at the Battle of the Bands night a few weeks back, maybe I can pull one out for her to give us a demo."

"When this investigation is over and done with, maybe she can play at your trial … or funeral. Depends on how friendly the Commander is feeling when we find the girl as to the location."

Chris gagged and dropped the test tube onto the table. He spun on his heel and pressed his rump hard into the desk to attempt to pull as far back from the Condor as far as possible. "What did you just say?"

Jason did little more than shrug nonchalantly. "You fit the bill, man."

"I don't fucking think so."

Jason peeled himself from the doorway and took a handful of slow steps forward. "Let's see. A Star Trek game player, geek, computer genius."

"Hey hey," Chris interrupted with a wave of his hand. "You're describing about seven million different people there, Condor. In this lab alone there are five of us who are exactly the same." He pointed in the direction of Archie's lab. "Hell, the biggest Trek geek we have is Archie …"

"But he's Asian," Jason purred.

"So, what. You're a racist?"

Jason sniffed hard and licked his lips at the taste in the air of a terrified individual. "New intel, genius. The guy's white."

"Oh, and I automatically come up a suspect because of my race? Oh that is a new one. You're pinning this on me because I'm white."

Jason snorted and let his eyes fall on the set of scratches on his neck. "How'd you get those scratches again?"

Chris subconsciously raised his hand to the sore spot on his neck. "Uh. Role-playing game with my Star Trek buddies."

Jason's eyes narrowed as he saw Chris' wrists, and the healing skin of a serious irritation. Recalling the conversation held in the lab with Mark and Grissom's team, he let out a long snort and then drove himself at the hapless lab technician.

"Where is she asshole?" he demanded as he shoved him backward onto test tubes, papers, microscope and an expensive Mass Spectrometer machine. His forearm held Chris down tightly at his throat as Jason pulled his weapon from its holster and jammed the muzzle up underneath Chris' chin. "Tell me or I blow your fucking head off!"

Chris gagged in shock, fear and confusion as his back protested every part of the Condor's attack. He couldn't bring himself to claw at the weapon or the forearm at his throat to free himself. He made do with clutching vainly at the papers below his rump. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jason growled low and shifted his arm to clutch a handful of Chris' shirt. The gun remained held under his chin. "Don't feed me that innocent shit, asshole. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Now where is she?"

Now Chris decided to attempt to peel himself free of the Condor's death-grip. He grabbed at his hands to try and pull himself free. "I am not the one you're looking for, Condor. Believe me I have nothing to do with this."

Jason grunted and hauled Chris up off the table. With no more than a hard flick of his wrist, he tossed the young man at the wall, immediately following through by rushing behind him to press him face-first into the wall. "I'm not one to play games. You tell me where the hell to find her or I smear your face across this lab and …."

"It's not me," he moaned pitifully in his own defence. "Dammit. I have an alibi for that night."

Jason leaned his mouth close to Chris' ear. "Yeah. And I have alibis for every time Anderson's credit card goes missing. They're easy to buy, Chris."

Chris grunted painfully at Jason shoving him harder against the wall. "I'm not capable of doing that, Jason. You have to believe me."

Jason didn't, of course, and took a fistful of Chris' labcoat. He growled a low, predatory, growl as he spun and threw his victim toward the glass wall – right into the chest of the Eagle.

Mark caught the terrified man by his shoulders and steadied him a moment before seizing the Condor in a cold, icy glare. "Jason," he breathed calmly. "Was there an error in my transmission?"

Chris frantically pulled himself away from Mark and staggered toward Grissom, who was calmly, yet disgustedly, standing at the doorway beside Nick and Warrick. "They're fucking nuts," he declared as he rubbed at his upper arms and tried to hide behind Nick. "He just attacked."

Jason, catching the movement of his prey out of the corner of his eyes, kept his main focus on his Commander. "I made an executive change in your order, Mark."

Mark's head ticked slightly to one side in irritation. "I said shadow, Condor, not attack."

"I have a different way of shadowing."

"You blew my order, Jason." Mark commanded softly, evenly. "I gave you a direct order, with specific instructions."

Jason's eyes narrowed. Oh, he was so ready for a pissing contest.

"And as usual, your orders bordered on pussy, so I upgraded them to something a little more masculine."

Mark swallowed. He knew a challenge from his second when he saw it. Instead of playing along, he turned and spoke down his shoulder at him. "We'll discuss this later."

"No," Jason demanded hotly. "We'll discuss this now. I'm not pussy-footing around when Princess is missing. If this asshole knows where she is, I don't want to waste time." He lowered his head to speak through brows at his Commander. "And you shouldn't be either. " He pulled in a breath. "Stop playing by their rules, Mark. She's already had to suffer through hell because of other's rules, save her by using ours."

Mark froze on the spot. That was a low hit. He was fully aware of the reference in that comment. He took a long breath and let his eyes flick up to Anderson, who had by now decided to join the investigative party. "She and I are over the flowers, Jason. Now's the time for you to do the same. If she can accept it, you should too."

"She only accepted it because it was you, Mark. Jesus. Everything she does is because of you." He stalked up and firmly grabbed hold of the Commander's shoulder to turn him to face her. "This whole mess is your damn fault. If you hadn't pushed her away all those years, slept around the Rangers unit, and blamed duty and the Chief for you not acting on your desires, she'd never have gone out with this guy. She wouldn't have tried the Facebook dating scene and been attacked by him. She would be home, safe with us, and …"

"And another woman would have been taken," Mark snapped finally. "Can't you get it in your mind that this is the best scenario. This is exactly what Princess would have wanted."

"And you honestly believe that?"

"No," he growled. "But it's all I've got right now." He pointed at the doorway as if to accent his words. "The woman I love is out there, we've got practically nothing to work on. I've had to pour through photos and coroner's reports and any other piece of "let's waste his time" bullshit from these investigators. I've got nothing. I'm no closer to finding her than I was with those damn flowers. All I can actually get out of any of this is that she is the only woman on this earth who would be capable of surviving this." His voice calmed somewhat; although it was obvious he was fighting off emotion. "But just like those flowers; when we find her … alive … she's going to walk out of this stronger with the knowledge she saved innocent lives by going through this ordeal."

Jason coughed. "That is the biggest load of shit I've ever heard come out of your mouth, Skipper, and that's saying something considering I'm constantly having to listen to your crap."

"Feel free to leave, Jason."

Jason's body hunched into a predatory stance. "I'll consider that offer after we find her."

"Then in the meantime, you're grounded."

Jason's head ticked. "What?"

Mark wasn't swayed. "You're off this mission. "

"Like hell I am."

Mark's lip twitched. "That's my order, Jason. And this time you're going to listen. As of now you are not only on report, but you're off this investigation. Take your vengeful ass back to Neptune until further notice."

"You don't have the authority …"

"Yeah, actually I do, Jason. " Mark spat with an almost-laugh. "I'm code G-1, as in the leader, the commander of this damn unit. What I say goes …."

"That's enough!" Anderson finally boomed from the doorway beside Grissom, who looked thankful that someone had the balls to finally step in. He stepped into the room and in between the two warring raptors. His finger first pointed at the Condor. "Jason, take a break. I hear the roof is the most popular smoking area." He then pointed at the Eagle. "Mark. You get a hold on yourself. You're Commander for Christ's sake. Show a little more control."

Jason snorted in extreme displeasure and stalked past Mark, deliberately knocking his shoulders against Mark's in a defiant and attacking manner. "To be continued …"

Mark curled a lip. "Count on it."

"I said that's enough you two," Anderson reaffirmed. "Now that the two of you have successfully announced to the whole lab that Princess is the victim here our time-frame has been cut in half. She is in far more danger now because the two of you can't put off your pissing contest long enough to get the job done."

"He started it," Mark muttered in a manner so juvenile it barely belonged in the schoolyard.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Anderson hissed by way of response. "I now estimate that the press will hear about this in exactly five minutes. Zoltar will come barreling down the street thirty seconds after that." He threw a manila folder into Mark's chest. "I'm pretty sure Princess and the people of Las Vegas will thank you for that."

Mark let out a long and disappointed breath as he rubbed at his brow with his forefinger and thumb. "This is not our style of play, Chief. I'm not used to, nor do I appreciate, this game of withholding information. I should not have to resort to gaining information from a lab informant to keep on top of this investigation."

Grissom cleared his throat from the doorway. "Who on my team is acting as your mole, Commander?"

Mark's focus flicked to Grissom. He looked down his shoulder at him with a lowered head. "Tell me what I need to know, Doctor, and I'll share my information with you."

"By the looks of things, Commander, you already know what I do."

Mark rolled his eyes and let his gaze pass each of the investigators. His eyes fell on Chris, who was still cringing behind Nick. "Mr. Weston. I apologise on behalf of my unit for my Second's behaviour. I will see that his actions are reprimanded as per the G-Force code. It was unnecessary."

"Uh. Yeah …" He managed.

Mark took a deep breath and rolled his head to one side as his eyes closed. "Let him go, Dr. Grissom. Your investigation has led you to the wrong man."

Grissom frowned and turned his head in such a manner that he was left to regard Mark with a side glance. "He fits the profile and, according to the evidence, is our prime suspect."

"Except for one thing, Doctor Grissom."

Grissom actually allowed himself the movement to look squarely at Mark. "What's that?"

"He's as young as I am. Princess stated that her attacker was middle-aged." He shrugged. "I'd bet my jet, my shack, my life, that Chris is innocent."

"I still have to process him, Commander."

"You'll be wasting time."

Grissom pressed his lips tightly together and let out a sound from the back of his throat. He finally offered the Commander a nod. "Unless you have a better plan …"

"I don't."

"Then we're running with this for now." He looked apologetically at Chris. "I have little other choice."

Chris nodded knowingly. "I understand Grissom. Let me clear myself."

Mark watched through slitted eyed as they walked out of the room leaving only he and Anderson in silence. He felt the Security Chief formulating a long winded lecture in his mind and waved a dismissive hand at him. "Don't bother, I won't listen to it anyway," he muttered. "I'm going to play a hunch."

"Which is?"

Mark lifted the handset of the lab phone and quickly dialed an outside number. Within a handful of seconds the other end picked up.

"Hi Jill. It's Mark. Do you have enough hands there right now to help out a wounded bird?"

~~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~~

"You aren't going to believe this. The girl that's missing is the Swan."

"No, it can't be. She's here."

"Seriously, she must be a body-double or something. I heard the Eagle and Condor arguing about it – shit, I think the whole lab must have heard them"

"Holy shit. No wonder the G-Force team are so desperate to be part of this investigation."

"Yeah, typical. They're only here because one of theirs is missing. Where were they when …"

"Uh, out saving the world."

"This is huge."

"Tell me about it. The Condor thinks that Chris from Trace did it. Grissom's processing him now."

"Ha. Ha. Oh shit, that must have been a scene…"

Hodges' eyes twitched at the incessant rumours now circulating through the lab. The Swan? The Swan was the one missing … the one he held captive?

He shuddered at the revelation.

Now he had to find escape. He had to fix this problem.

But she knew who he was, what he looked like.

She had to die.

DAMN!