A/N….it's been a long, long time coming, but I'm finally back with an update. Please excuse the delay, I have a 6 week old baby at home and I've been busy trying to bring him into the world and care for him (as well as my other little ones). I hope someone's still reading…

Chapter Nine: Mourning

Sara sat on the shower floor, her knees drawn to her chest. The last week had been a blur to her, and with everything that had happened lately, she wasn't up to dealing with people. Not just people, one person in particular, the person she was staying with.

The crime scene tape around her apartment had been removed several days ago, but she couldn't bear to spend one minute in the vicinity of their home, much less inside of the place they had called their home.

Home….she knew they'd never be able to call their two-bedroom apartment "home" again. There had been too much trauma, the walls were wrought with too many painful memories. As she leaned her head back, letting the hot water stream against her face, she fought back a sob. She wasn't even sure she and Greg were still a "they". After the attack, the crime lab had received a package from Alyssa, taunting them and daring them to go after her. A week later, there was no news, no leads, and little hope that they'd find Greg, dead or alive.

A knock on the door brought her from her thoughts, and she took a deep, steadying breath before calling out, "Yes?"

"Is everything ok in there?" Nick's voice rang out, wrought with concern, "You've been in there for awhile…."

Sara reached forward, shutting off the water, "Sorry, I'm getting out now."

"No, no. Take your time, I just wanted to make sure everything was ok."

Sara wrapped the towel around herself with a scowl. The longer they went without word on Greg, the more overprotective their friends and coworkers had become. She wasn't all too convinced that the abundance of concern wasn't masked pity, but for now she was letting that slide. At least the time she spent showing them she wasn't falling completely apart was time she wasn't spending brooding over the possibility of what could be going on wherever Greg had been taken.

Truth be told, she wasn't fine and she wasn't quite sure she'd ever be fine again. How could she be? The man that she loved was being held captive, again, by a lunatic and this time they had no clue where he could be, if he was still alive, how badly he was hurt. They didn't even have any ideas on where to start searching. For all she knew, she could be a widow at this very moment.

She used the towel to wipe a clean spot on the fogged mirror, taking in her own ragged expression. She looked just as bad as she had felt, like she had aged thirty years in just a few short weeks. Would things ever go back to a semblance of normalcy? Would they find Greg? What shape would he be in if and when they found him? Or would she just spend the rest of her life in limbo, not really being sure of anything whatsoever.

She heard a door open and voices carrying over the sound of the air conditioner's whirring and she sighed deeply. It was bad enough to have to constantly put on a charade of sanity for Nick, but it was exponentially more difficult to do when there were more do-gooders waiting to pounce, observing and commenting on her every move, word, and facial expression.

She took as much time as she could getting dressed, and proceeded to clean the small bathroom thoroughly before she knew she had to join her friends in the living room to prevent Nick from seeking her out once more.

"Sara." Nick spoke quietly, moving to meet her in the doorway as she appeared, his hand moving to the small of her back as he led her to the sofa.

She sat down, surprised to see Brass sitting in one of Nick's easy chairs, a no-nonsense business expression on his face. He looked weary and tired, not to mention apprehensive. Sara's stomach clenched, and she forced herself to take a deep steadying breath, not to panic before she heard his news. Trying to swallow the lump in her throat, she wasn't able to vocally respond when he murmured a random greeting. Her eyes locked in on his for a brief moment before he diverted his gaze. She knew that wasn't a good sign.

"Sara, how are you holding up?"

"Cut the pleasantries. What's happened?"

Nick took Sara's hand into his own, giving it a tight squeeze before she jerked it back and placed it in her lap, clenching it to match it's pair. The worried glance Nick and Brass shared didn't go unnoticed, and it only served to irritate her already shot nerves. Just as she was about to angrily snap at Brass to just spit it out already, he hesitantly spoke.

"We're calling off the full-search on Greg."

Sara's stomach rolled and her veins felt like they had been pumped with ice. For a moment she grew dizzy, forgetting to breathe as his words sunk in. They were giving up on him? After only a week? This couldn't be true.

"Wh…what?" Sara stammered, "You're kidding, right?"

Brass put his hand on her shoulder, a deep expression of concern etched onto his weary features, "We just don't have the manpower to keep exhausting every possibility anymore. We're going to keep looking, but we're going to have to scale back….if we get any new leads in, of course we'll follow up on them, but right now we're just at a dead end."

"So you're just giving up?" Sara asked coldly, pulling out of his grasp with an icy glare, "Someone that you've known for years…you're just giving up on him, treating him like a cold case after just 7 days?"

A pained expression crossed Brass's face and he stood, "I'm sorry Sara, I don't want to do this any more than you, but there's just nothing more we can do."

"Yes there is!" Sara shouted, jumping to her feet, "You can get people out there looking for him, expand the search area, something! We know who has him!"

Nick grabbed her arm as she tried to storm off, pulling her into a tight embrace, "You know we wouldn't stop looking if there was even an inkling of a chance that we could find him."

"So you're in on this too!?" Sara shouted, pulling away with a hurt, angry expression, "We never gave up on you, Nick, I can't believe you're giving up so easily on Greg. I thought he was your best friend."

"You know--"

"Don't tell me what I know!" Sara shouted, tears of anger, grief, and betrayal spilling onto her cheeks, "I'll tell you what I know. I know that Greg is out there, and he needs our help, and he's hurt. I know that if it were either of you out there, I wouldn't rest until we had you back. I know that you won't let me anywhere near the case, but you're quitting on Greg when he needs you the most!"

She turned on her heel, fleeing the room and slamming the guest room door shut behind her.

"Damn it Sara!" Nick shouted after her, "You know that's not true!"

He sank onto the couch, his head in his hands as he loudly exhaled, "That went about as well as I expected it to."

"You know it's what we have to do." Brass said softly, his hand resting on Nick's shoulder, "She'll realize that too, once she calms down."

Nick remained silent, only sighing once more, "I hate this. I don't want to give up on him."

"We've exhausted all of our resources, you know that as well as I do. We just need to wait for something else to show up before we can resume the search, it's hard to look for something when you have no idea of where to even start." Brass made a move to walk towards the door, then stopped, turning back to Nick, "Keep a close eye on her."

"I am." Nick replied quietly, "I'll see you at work tonight."

Brass let himself out, leaving Nick to lean his head back against the couch, running his hand through his hair. If he knew Sara as well as he thought he did, things would only go downhill from here.

Greg was barely able to open an eye as another wave of pain washed through his weak and weary body. He wasn't sure how long he had been held captive, although he knew that every time he opened his eyes, he felt weaker and weaker. Objects swam in his vision as he tried to focus and concentrate on where he was and what was holding him down.

He took a deep breath, wheezing slightly as pain shot through his lungs. All he could remember from the last time he had managed consciousness was that he was in excruciating pain and in a room with minimal light, at best.

Struggling to make out any sort of identifying object in the room, he concluded that he had probably not been moved. The room had the distinct odor of blood, and he forced back a gag as he realized the blood was probably his own.

Using the majority of his remaining strength, he moved his arm, trying to assess the damages. He was pleased, in a twisted respect, that he found it in tact, as well as his other appendages. He was also relieved to learn that he was not being restrained by any physical means, Alyssa must have assumed with the bullet wound he had sustained in his leg and the severe beating he had taken, that he'd be unable to escape. The only question now was why had she kept him alive? Why hadn't she carved him up like her last victims, like she had tried to do the last time he had been held captive? What sort of twisted plan could she possibly have in store?

He sat up, a wave of dizziness washing over him and causing him to pause, wondering if it would be for the best if he just laid back down and tried to regain some more of his strength back before exerting himself anymore. Flashes of Alyssa's previous victims assaulted him and he decided that time was not on his side. He gently rose, surprised as his sheer capacity to remain upright. He felt woozy and in a ridiculously tremendous amount of pain, but he forced himself to push forward. It wasn't about his comfort, it was purely about survival at this point.

The room he was being held in was no smaller than a janitor's closet, but it did contain one boarded up window. He was fairly confident that if he could remove the board, he'd be able to narrowly fit through the window. He weakly hobbled a few steps in that direction when he heard Alyssa's voice from outside of the door. With a surge of panic running through his veins, he moved the few inches back to the blood-stained cot he had been resting on, trying to get into the same position she had left him in. The last thing he needed at this point was for her to realize he was mobile. The doorknob turned and he shut his eyes, trying to keep his breathing even and resist the urge to try and choke her as he felt her breath against his face. There would be plenty of time for revenge later, right now he was busy trying to formulate a plan.

To be continued…