AN: This is the last chapter that bears similarities to Grave Danger. Then things really start to twist.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. I wish I did, cuz I have a lot of ideas that I wish that they'd put in the show.

In A Plexiglas Prison With You

Summary: They were trapped, far from humanity in a prison cell where no one could possibly reach them. Their only consolation was that they were together.

Chapter Four: So Helpless

It had been six hours since she and Gil had been in that alley-way. She knew, because she had her watch. Six hours and four minutes.

"Stop," he companion requested after he saw her look at her watch for the umpteenth time. She turned her head slightly and looked at him.

"What?" she questioned. He was laying there, looking at the blue-green hues in the darkness.

"Stop looking at your watch," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do, Gil? I feel so helpless," she sighed, letting her left hand fall to her side.

"Staring at your watch won't help. You'll drive yourself crazy counting down the minutes," he told her, turning his head ever so slightly to look at her.

"I just want out," she admitted, turning her head so that he wouldn't see the tears of frustration forming in her eyes. He continued to look at her for a moment before he lay back and started through the top of their prison to where he could make out a bit of light amongst the darkness.

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Chris Bezich was helpless. His confident smirk and devilish charms were absent as he was released from the ropes binding his hands and feet.

"Want to tell me what went down here, Mr. Bezich?" Greg asked, bagging the section of rope that was used to tie the other man up.

"I don't know how long I was in there," Bezich sighed, "I was hit over the head, and when I woke up, I was the back of my trunk," he explained.

"You didn't happen to get a look at your attackers, did you?" Greg questioned, surveying the scene as he waited for a response. Bezich shook his head.

"N-no…I was back here waiting for a delivery…and…wait!" Bezich started, "One of them…he had a grey triangle tattoo on the back of his hand…I saw it when I turned around to see what the noise was behind me."

"Anything else?" Greg prodded. Bezich shook his head.

"Alright, Mr. Bezich, can you explain your print on this pail?" Greg asked, showing Bezich a photograph of the white pail covered in fish blood.

"No, I can't," Bezich shrugged. Brass sidled up to them.

"Think harder," he demanded. Bezich was incredulous.

"It's a pail!" he exclaimed, "What is the big deal?"

"The big deal is that that pail is evidence in a case involving two missing CSIs," Brass barked, "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"No!" Bezich exclaimed, then his face morphed into concern, "This isn't about…uh…Catherine, is it?" he asked.

"How do you know Catherine?" Greg fired at him.

"We dated three years ago. Don't you people communicate?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"And how did that end?" Brass completely ignored the last bit.

"I run a nightclub," Bezich sighed, as if this were a sufficient answer, "What did she expect? Domesticity?"

Greg resisted the urge to sock the guy. He may not have known much about Catherine Willows's personal life, but he did know that when she gave a guy the time of day, she expected him to be faithful. She must have been crushed to find out that Bezich cheated on her. He let Brass continue with the interrogation and approached the car to search for anymore evidence. He titled his head slightly in curiosity as he reached further into the trunk and found an envelope. He looked for an address, but found nothing, yet the words printed on the front of the envelope sent chills up his spine.

'RE: Willows and Grissom'

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"Do we know what's inside it?" Warrick asked, staring down at the yellow envelope Greg recovered. The envelope was in the center of the table with all four CSIs staring down at it.

"I waited on you guys," Greg swallowed. He looked to his companions, gathered around the observation table, and it scared him slightly that only two years ago, they had stared down at a similar package, only it had been about Nick and Grissom and Catherine were there. He felt that same knot in his stomach as he watched Nick take a knife and open it. Pictures fell out. With a jolt, he realized that they were of Grissom and Catherine.

"What the…" Sara trailed off, flipping through the pictures.

The four of them exchanged incredulous looks. There was a picture of Grissom and Catherine, leaning on a pier of some sort. It must have been a long time ago. They looked a lot younger. There was another one of Grissom, Catherine, and a then-six-year-old Lindsey in a park. There was a picture of the entire team, save for Greg, eating breakfast in a diner.

"That was after the Strip Strangler case," Warrick said, examining the photograph. There was another one that captured the backs of Catherine and Griss's heads at a movie theatre. Another one showed Grissom handing a dead baby to Catherine. There was one of them having drinks. Another showed them standing together, hovering over Nick's would-be grave.

"Who was there?" Nick asked, aghast, "It was all uniformed officers!"

"I don't know, Nicky," Warrick breathed. There were two pictures left. One was of Catherine and Grissom at their ill-fated crime-scene. Catherine had tripped and Grissom had leant over to help her up. The next photograph made their hearts stop. Sara's hand flew to her lips to stop the tremor. Warrick couldn't take his eyes off of the photo. Greg was speechless. And Nick turned and vomited in the nearest garbage.

Catherine and Grissom were unconscious, lying together in a Plexiglas coffin.

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"I wonder what they're doing right now," Catherine voiced. Grissom turned his head a fraction of an inch.

"Please don't start doing that," he requested. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm just wondering," Catherine said defensively, "Its what one tends to do when one is trapped in a glass coffin with someone who barely breathes, let alone talks."

He shot her a look.

"Come on, Gil," she pleaded, "Can't you just see the guys working hard at the case? It's what they do best, after all. Nicky's probably combing surveillance footage. Warrick'll be in ballistics with the bullet…"

Grissom had to admit that it put a smile on his face when he thought of his guys.

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"What kind of sick fuck is this?" Nick questioned, feeling the urge to fling something across the room.

"Whoever it is has been watching them for a long time," Greg sighed, "A really long time."

"How come we've never noticed anything?" Sara's voice shook. Warrick shook his head.

"From the looks of these pictures, only Griss or Cath would have noticed," he said grimly. Then something caught his eye. On the back of the last picture, there was writing. It was a link to a internet address. Without hesitation, he grabbed the nearest computer.

"What are you doing?" Nick asked as they crowded around him. Warrick typed the address in and instantly, a video popped onto the screen. Familiarity gripped Warrick, Sara, and Greg. For the second time, they were staring hopelessly into a live video at their friends struggling for life.

TBC