A/N: Wow, thanks for all the reviews! I loved each and every one of them -g- I hope you'll find this chapter even better, lol, and keep reviewing. As always, big thanks and a hug to my beta TangledPencils who did a great work. You all rock:)

Fire and Water

by Nicol Leoraine

Chapter 6

It had been only a few days ago that Grissom had learned that his hearing loss was worsening, much faster than he had expected. Only a few days since the doctor had told him he should consider surgery. And he did; consider it that is.

Grissom wasn't afraid to go under the scalpel; well, no more than any normal person was. He was afraid of other things. Like the fact that someone would find out. Or that the surgery wouldn't help. In that case, he would soon lose his hearing altogether, and who would want a deaf criminalist doing field work?

Of course, even without his hearing, they would let him stay as a criminalist - but he would've been reduced to staying in the lab, no field work. And if Grissom was good at something, it was field work…and bugs, he thought with an inner smirk. No, he definitely didn't want anyone to find out.

So he'd spent the last few days in his office, brooding over 'when' to take the surgery. In case it should go wrong, he wanted to push the date as far away as he could, trying to enjoy his time in the field and help with as many cases as he could in his current condition. But then, wouldn't he be risking his own team? There was a chance that his hearing could go out in the worst moment. He wouldn't catch the word that could point him to the suspect. Or worse... someone could shout for help and he wouldn't hear it.

But even these 'worst case scenarios' couldn't push him to come out with the truth. Not now, not when they had a possible serial killer on the run. So while he was driving behind the police car leading them to the new crime scene, Grissom told himself that the surgery could wait: At least until there weren't any 'serious' cases to solve. Knowing their luck, that could keep him from the surgical table for a pretty long time.

xxXXxx

This one wasn't at all what Nick anticipated when Brass told him they found another body. When he put down the phone and Nick asked how could he be so sure it was the same case, Brass simply pointed at his forehead.

"Another sign."

That was all it took for them to grab their kits and get into the car, with Grissom behind the wheel. Brass took the lead, and Nick only then realized he hadn't told them about the location. He thought that they would head towards Lake Mead once again, but quickly realized that was wrong as the car before them took a turn to the right; quite the opposite direction.

Nick cast a glance at the man behind the wheel, ready to ask what he thought about it, but stayed silent. He saw the frown and concentrated look and knew Grissom's mind was somewhere else. Still, he was curious about where they were going.

"Uhm, Gris?" he spoke and was surprised when Grissom instantly looked at him. Maybe he wasn't all that occupied, Nick thought, distraught.

"Yes?"

"We didn't really get to talk about Cornwall's MO. You said that water was the first sign that appeared, but... was there anything else similar to Jamie's case?"

"Cornwall's first victim was also a woman, but she was ten years younger than Mrs. Collins and wasn't married, still a student. There was no known connection between Cornwall's victims, not in genre, age or occupation, not even the same location. That's a little strange, if you think about it and makes me more convinced about the copycat theory. Cornwall never killed twice in the same town. He even crossed the border. And the time between the killings was longer. This one is acting too fast."

"Did all of the victims drown?"

"Hm? No, they didn't. Cornwall killed each one in a different way. You could say that each victim was killed in a way that symbolized his or her element. They couldn't find the third victim for some time, simply because the fire burned the skin and there was no visible carving. Only when the coroner noticed some scratches on the skull bone did the realize what happened."

Nick listened intently, his brow furrowed. He couldn't shake the feeling that there had to be something connecting the victims – both in the past and the present. Only rarely did a serial killer choose his victims without pattern.

Before Nick could voice his thoughts, Brass pulled into a closed off area of a construction site and Grissom followed him in.

They were almost out of the city limits, the Downtown and the Strip far behind. This was more of an industrial area, with factories and warehouses, the desert shining in the moonlight in distance.

"What are they planning to build here?" Nick wondered.

"Administrative building, at least that's what they say," Jim Brass answered the question and nodded at the nearest cop, who was already approaching them.

"Detective Brass," the man said and acknowledged the presence of the two criminalists with a nod.

"Officer Rossy, what have you got here?"

"A male D.B. Found on the excavation site. We were called in by the security guard who patrolled the area."

"Where is he?"

"Over there," Rossy pointed toward the site office. "He's an older guy and it shook him up pretty good," the cop warned.

"Can you tell us anything else? Was someone on the scene when you arrived?"

"Just him. We checked out the area, it was clear. But you should probably know that there's quite a big hole in the wire fence."

"I want few guys there, asap," Brass growled, already prepared to chew out the officer before him, but Rossy only smirked.

"Already done, Sir. Two officers are guarding the fence, one is by the body and another with the guard."

"Good," Jim said, satisfied. "Lead the way then, I want to see the body first."

"Right there," Rossy spoke and pointed down into a dark hole, a small portable lamp the only thing illuminatingthe body and the cop standing nearby. "The security guy said that they just finished excavating the foundation yesterday."

"How deep is that?" Nick mumbled, looking down. "Three yards?"

"Was the ladder already there or did you bring it?" Grissom asked, already pulling on his gloves.

"I'll have to ask the security guard," Rossy replied with a frown.

"Do it. And bring another ladder here. We'll take this one with us."

"You looking for prints?" Brass asked, while the officer jogged towards the office.

"Yeah. There's a chance the killer or even the victim had to use it. Or not. The victim could've been just shoved off the edge. The coroner will tell us more." As they waited for Rossy to return with another ladder, both Nick and Grissom turned on their own flashlights and started looking around for any evidence.

Five minutes later they were crouching next to the body of a man. Nick looked at the symbol carved into the flesh, a down turned triangle crossed with a simple line. His eyes slid down to the man's mouth, full of soil and dirt, then to the single stab wound in the chest, and finally back to the carving.

With a sigh, Nick shook his head and turned to Grissom.

"I think I can guess what this symbol means even without knowing anything about the history behind the five elements theory."

Grissom's lip quirked in an unhappy smile.

"Earth," he spoke in a whisper. "At least the killer got the sequence right." With that said, the criminalists opened their evidence kits and started working.

xxXXxx

Jonah was on a high. Even though the drugs should've already left his system, he still felt pumped, almost giddy. His endorphin and dopamine levels were up, and the adrenaline from the kill still coursed through his body. His mind felt sharper than ever. It was always like that after he took a dose of crystal meth, but somehow the rush of the kill enhanced his experience, prolonging it. He swore that right now, he would be able to write a paper for his history class, if he hadn't been expelled fromschool. It was really bad that they threwhim out for the use of drugs. Didn't they understand that it was the only way he could concentrate? So while he had started with the drugs just to get through high school, they had literally 'fired' him for taking them. Now drugs were the only thing left. And his Master, of course.

The man had taken him from the street, stopped him before Jonah could do something really stupid – like get a gun and try to rob a 24/7 to get some cash. He was actually on his way to the guy who sold them when the Master stopped him. Without many words, he offered him shelter, and something that Jonah desperately needed – another dose of the drug. Jonah took it, his body's will stronger than his mind. He knew well enough that doing it meant trouble. But at the time, he didn't care. Only later, when he found himself holed up in this little apartment. He woke up to find the man watching him, and having only a hazy recollection of the previous day, he startled, scrambling off the couch.

Every street kid knew that nothing comes for free and Jonah was afraid what this man would want in repayment. Or what he had already got.

But he quickly realized that the man wasn't just another vulture searching for prey – not in the way Jonah thought. The Master wasn't interested in his body – only in his soul.

Days went by and Jonah was kept in the apartment, the man with him all the time, talking. When Jonah felt like his brain just wanted to stop working, when his mind was too slow to process even the slightest command, the man gave him a dose. And when Jonah's mind became sharp and he could concentrate, the man talked some more.

By the time Jonah got the third dose, he'd started calling him Master. And when the drugs run out of his body, and he wearily sank into the bed, he already knew about the Plan.

That was three weeks ago.

Right now, Jonah could only pace the small confinement of his apartment, his mind reeling around the events of the last few hours. He'd done it again – he'd killed another human being. The victim put up a good fight, but he hadn't had a chance. Not against Jonah, who was on the top of the world, or against his Master, who incapacitated the victim with such ease that it made Jonah wonder just how many had he killed? But it didn't matter, not when Jonah crammed the dirt and soil down the feebly struggling victim's throat. Not when he plunged the knife into his heart, or was allowed to carve the sign into the forehead. All that mattered was that the Master was happy and Jonah felt the power. For that sole minute, when he had power over another human's life, he was "Someone". And he never wanted to lose that feeling.

xxXXxx

The body was already on its way to Doc Robbin's autopsy table when Grissom and Nick finished with the scene. They quickly came to the conclusion that this wasn't the place of the kill, only a secondary scene. There was almost no blood, even if the victim was covered in it. They also had a suspicion that the body was simply dumped. It would surely be easier than dragging it down the ladder.

The security guard's statement only confirmed that, when the old guy told Brass that it was the sound of something falling that lured him out. But by the time he walked to the hole where they would lay the foundations soon, there was no one around. Only the body.

Nick had a feeling that the security guard didn't go out right away. That maybe he heard some sounds and instead of going to check it out, waited till there was only silence. And really, who would blame him? He was alone and only few weeks from retirement. No need to get himself killed, there was nothing to steal, anyway.

So after they took his statement, shipped the body to the coroner and finished collecting the evidence from the scene, it was time to return to the lab and take a closer look.

The two criminalists walked to the car, got in and drove away. They didn't notice the other car that pulled out just behind them, following. They didn't know it had been there all the time, following them from the lab and waiting.

And he would wait even longer, the man behind the wheel realized when he saw the criminalists were heading back to the office. But it didn't matter.

He had time.

TBC

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