Thanks to everyone who reviewed – you guys are GREAT! It really makes all the difference…

And to my SPLENDID beta: sweet-surrender5, who spotted a rather huge plot hole and helped me to fill it!

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No Choice

The sudden piercing scream from behind the boulder he was leaning against, instantly made the blood in Grissom's veins run cold. There was something so primal in Catherine's cry that it made every hair on his scalp stand on end, and the immediate surge of adrenaline that shot through his body almost made it impossible for him to move.

But move he did – almost falling over his own feet in his haste to get to the source of that shriek. Oh god, oh god…

The sight that greeted him was like a physical punch in the gut, knocking the last vestiges of breath from his body with a force he could scarce believe. Catherine's face was the first thing he saw in the bobbing beam of his flashlight as it lit up the scene in front of him – a cut across her forehead was bleeding profusely and her hair was a tangled mess, clinging to her face in sweaty, blood clotted strands.

But it was her eyes that seemed to imprison him in this waking nightmare, wide and staring and terrified – holding his gaze unblinkingly, exactly the same way Nick's had all those months ago.

Then there was the gun - pressed brutally to her temple, while the blood from her forehead formed a small rivulet which was trickling round the muzzle, down her neck and pooling along the collar of her light coloured jacket before oozing slowly downwards. The grimy hand clamped over her mouth prevented her from making a sound, but her eyes told him all he needed to know.

Help me…

The gun in Grissom's hand suddenly felt very heavy as he slowly lifted it to eye level and took a cautious step toward Catherine and the grimy juvenile who was holding her captive. The boy couldn't have been more that 16 or 17, but his features were distorted, and Grissom absently noted the crazy, constantly shifting eyes and the compulsive jerk of the boy's head from side to side. Mental illness, or drugs. Probably both. Either way – I'm screwed…

The vast tracks of dried blood on the adolescent's tattered clothes and the deep gouges on his face – evidence that the dead woman had indeed fought frantically for her life.

With a desperate effort, Grissom kept his voice as low and soothing as he could. "Cath – are you OK?" She blatantly wasn't, but she managed a small nod anyway, and as her attacker visibly tightened his grip over her mouth, Grissom warily ventured one step closer. Slowly, just do this calmly and slowly.

"Hey…I'm—"

"Stay the fuck away from me!" The boy's voice was high pitched, the hysteria conspicuous and tangible - the madness unmistakeable. Grissom's chest tightened so acutely that he thought he would faint from the pain. Shit. He's way past the "let's be reasonable about this" stage…

"Don't come any closer, or I'll kill the bitch, you understand me!"

Grissom stayed silent, but took another guarded step forward, the gun unwavering in his hand, even though the rest of his body felt like it was made from jelly. He flicked his eyes back to Catherine and was alarmed to see just how viciously the gun was digging into her temple. Her panicked eyes were pleading silently with him, while both her hands were clinging to the arm which snaked around her body and clamped over her mouth.

"Look, we can find a way out of this OK? But first you have to let her go…" Where the hell is Brass?

"There's no way out! Not for me, not for her!"

"Of course there is...just…put the gun down…"

"You fucking keep away!"

"Listen, jus—"

"Shut up! She's gonna die, just like the other bitch!"

Shit. If he panics and pulls the trigger – even accidentally - Catherine will be dead before she even hits the ground…

Oh god, please don't let that happen.

"Why?"

Just keep him talking. If he's talking he's not thinking, and if he's not thinking he might slip up, give you an opportunity…

"Stop talking to me! I'll kill her, I fucking swear!"

Where the fuck is Brass?

"Gil…"

Brass's voice floated to him from somewhere behind his right shoulder and although the detective tried his best to hide it, Grissom could hear the unmistakable twinge of alarm breaking through that quietly spoken word. Thank god. The cavalry.

With the attacker's attention momentarily shifting to the detective, Grissom took the opportunity to take another couple of steps forward. He was close enough now to take a shot if the occasion presented itself, close enough to be reasonably sure he wouldn't hit Catherine while shooting at the boy behind her. But it's not going to come to that. We'll talk him down.

We just have to.

"Jim…" His voice sounded hoarse and he had trouble pushing the air from his lungs, through his enclosed throat and out of his dry mouth. "Talk to me…" Tell me what the hell we do next.

"Do you have a shot?"

What the hell do you mean, do I have a shot? I'm not about to shoot at a teenager! I usually don't even carry a gun for fuck's sakes!

"Yes. I do."

But I'm not going to do it.

Grissom first heard Brass exhale a long, terse breath and then the crunch of pebbles and sand against the frozen desert ground as the detective took a few hesitant steps closer.

"Good, just stay—"

"Stop talking! And I fucking swear if you take one more step closer, I'm killing the bitch right now, you fucking understand me?"

And as if to prove his point, the teenager slithered his free hand from Catherine's mouth to her neck and then visibly tightened his new found grip. The huge billows of white fog that initially escaped from her mouth as her warm breath rushed out, was gradually becoming smaller and smaller.

Oh my god…

"Gil…" Her voice was nothing more than a croak – a solitary word uttered with hardly any intonation, but speaking to him with a clarity that made his head spin. It managed to convey everything he knew she must be thinking and feeling.

Please help me…tell Lindsey…I'm sorry…

Fear was paralysing him, and everything seemed to be happening at half speed. Everything except his thoughts, which were racing through his head so fast he could hardly make any sense of them.

Shoot him. I can't. It's your only option. He's just a boy. You have no choice...

"Grissom – take the shot." Brass's voice was still behind him – low and seemingly unflustered, but with an unmistakeable undercurrent of desperation. The boy's hand in front of him was clamping down on the pale flesh of Catherine's neck with more intent, his finger curling around the trigger with more insistence.

Don't make me do this...

"Take the shot!" The growl behind him now edged with terror and fear.

He's just a fucking boy…

"Gil…" Catherine's voice, nothing more than a panic-stricken wheeze.

I won't...

"Take the fucking shot!"

I can't…

"Shoot!"

You have no choice…

Grissom's finger curled painfully around the trigger and a second later, an almighty bang split the air around them, echoing in their ears as it bounced off the surrounding rocks before finally fading into complete and excruciating silence.

No choice.

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A/N: See – I warned you at the beginning of this fic…there'll be NO funny business here! But I hope you enjoyed it anyway…

Leave me a review and lemme know what you thought!