"Absolutely not. He nearly kills her, then kidnaps her and now he wants to see her? No friggin' way." Jim said in a high pitched growl

"Thing is, he claims there were other victims, but he'll only tell her where they are." Gil said solemnly

"So, not only is he a sexual offender but he's also a murderer? No way in hell is she going anywhere near that freak again." Jim asserted

"He's in bad shape and the doctors don't know how long he's got. Between the injuries inflicted by Sara, some of which have become infected and those by his cellmate, the prognosis is not good for him. If her seeing him one last time means that we get closure for the families of the other victims, I think she should do it." Grissom said sternly

"Well, let's tell Sara and see what she thinks, though I wouldn't be surprised if she tells us to go to hell."

"I'll tell her. No offense, but I've got better people skills than you. Just give me some time to figure out how I want to put it to her, organize my thoughts and stuff." Jim said

Getting up and leaving Grissom to think about their conversation, Jim walked down the corridor to find Sara in the break room reading an issue of Guns&Ammo: The Ultimate Military Issue. A bit surprised at her choice of literature, Jim sat beside her and turning to face her, closed the magazine and took her hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Looking at their hands joined, Sara got a not so good feeling. Looking up and seeing his eyes, she knew something was wrong.

"What's wrong, Jim?"

As of late, given the advancement in their relationship, she'd begun to call him Jim rather than the impersonal "Brass". Swallowing hard, he sighed, then spoke.

"Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

Getting up from the couch, their hands still joined, they walked out the front doors of the lab and started down the street on the pavement walkway. It was a few moments before Jim finally began to speak of Randall and when he did he felt Sara's grip on his hand tighten greatly. About a block away, by the side of the walkway, there was a mound of grass upon which they sat. Turning to her, her hand still in his, he began.

"As I was saying, Randal is in hospital. His cellmate attacked him and he's in pretty bad shape."

"Good, he deserves it." She snapped

"Well, there's a bit of a problem. It would seem as though there are more people that had suffered at his hands." He continued

"You say "had". Does that mean they're dead?"

"That's exactly what it means. But he says he'll only tell you where they're buried. I know the last thing you want is to see him, but we've got to think of the greater good, here. We've got to give their families closure, and I think that by you seeing him, they might be given that." He explained

The look on her face was a combination of disgust, nausea and anger. Her face was red, her knuckles white, gripping Jim's hand, and all of a sudden she got quiet. They sat like that, on the mound, for a few moments before she responded.

"So, if I see him he'll tell me where everybody is?" she asked softly

"That's what he said. I'll go with you if you like; you know, for moral support."

Standing up and pulling him up with her, Sara, with her free hand, ran her fingers through her hair, sighed and looked over at him.

"Well, let's get this over with, then." She said flatly

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

In hospital, Jim and Sara walked the hallway to the secure ward and showing their ID badges, were granted entry. Walking past room after room, they could see inmates restrained to their beds, some alone and some with doctors and nurses. At the end of the hall they found Randall hooked up to several machines; a pulse-ox monitor, an electrocardiogram machine as well as an IV drip that had just been flushed with ten milligrams of morphine, for the pain. Stepping inside the room, Jim and Sara could see that Randall was in really bad shape and as Sara approached the bed, Randall turned his head and offered a sloppy, drug induced smile.

Sara didn't want to be there in the first place, but seeing this poor pathetic man laying, possibly dying, made her even more furious than she had initially been. Not being one to mince words or waste time, she got down to brass tax.

"So, I'm here. Talk." She growled

Still dazed from the meds, Randall did his best to form coherent sentences. It was rough, as he'd been given Adavan, Morphine and a healthy dose of Valium. His mouth dry, as if full of cotton, he licked his dry lips and tried to focus on the Saras that stood before him. There were three of them, so he directed his gaze to the one in the middle.

"You came, good." He said, his speech slurred

"I'm not here to chit chat with you. Tell me where they are and we can both move on with our lives." She snapped

"Your life will go on far longer than mine, I'm afraid. You're a bright one, but remember, the light that burns twice as bright burns half as long."

"We're through with the niceties. Now, where are they?"

"I'll tell you one, you go find her then come back and I'll tell you another." He hissed

"I'm not going to play games with you. You tell me where they all are or I'm leaving right now."

"What would their families say, knowing that you had the opportunity to find their loved ones and didn't do a damned thing about it?" he asked, baiting her

Turning to Jim, who was right behind her, she saw that he was entering full attack mode. His hands were fisted and his knuckles white with fury. His face and ears were red as the blood of Randall's that she had spilled and his jugular vein was bulging. He had that intense look in his eyes that said "Quit fcking with me." and he was about to take a step closer to Randall as Sara placed her hand on his chest, halting him, and whispered to him.

"He's not worth it, Jim. I'll play his game and when I'm done, life will go on. It will go on for me, it will go on for you and it will go on for him, for however short a time he still has, which hopefully won't be too long."

Realizing the truth in what Sara had said, Jim backed off and stood behind her in a protective posture, his arms crossed across his chest, his gaze narrowed at Randall as he cracked his knuckles one by one, the right hand first and then the left. After that he cracked his neck and back, making as much noise as possible to deliver Randall his message. Smiling inwardly, Sara knew that Jim's patience was wearing thin, as was hers, so one last time she asked, and to this, Randall answered simply.

"Go to the property off of I-15 and one hundred yards out from the back stoop is a pile of old refuse, chairs, pieces of metal and such. You go there and find her, bring me back her locket and I'll tell you where number two is."

Turning on her heel followed by Jim, Sara left the ward and climbed behind the wheel of Jim's car and floored it back to the lab where she and Jim collected Nick and Greg.