A new update, possibly in record time...

"Shit," Warrick said.

He ran a hand over his face, but next to him, Sara was already a step ahead.

"Just the one?" she asked.

"At least one," Catherine replied. "It's hard to tell."

"We saw him and bolted," Sofia elaborated. "We got the hell out of there."

"Did he see you?" Grissom asked, alarmed.

"Maybe. I can't say."

"He probably did," Catherine said. "We ran in clear view all the way back."

"Which means he's probably already on the way," Sara said.

Her adrenaline kicked in, and raising her gun she scanned the fields, searching the long grass for anything out of place. It was all still, and yet she knew that was deceptive, and that worse still, there were plenty of trees and rocks dotted along the way to provide any stalker with sufficient cover.

She took a deep breath, and steeled herself.

"We have to find cover," she said.

"More important than that, you need to get dressed," Nick said, addressing the two half naked women.

"Do it now," Warrick said. "Hurry."

He had his own gun raised, and stood like a guard as he gestured toward the picnic blanket, and the pile of discarded clothing heaped there.

"We don't have time –" Sofia started.

"Now," Sara said, so firmly that it surprised them.

She did not often side with Warrick, but she did it now on instinct, her own memories of being trapped and pinned in the house in Vegas still fresh on her mind. This was no pure world, no place where they could rely on men to act right – and Catherine had already admitted that they had stalked her halfway across the desert only a few days earlier.

"Is it the same guy?" she asked.

She momentarily lowered her weapon as she ushered her female friends over to their clothes, hurrying them along with urgent nudges on their backs.

They were moving slow – too slow.

"I didn't get a good look," Catherine said, throwing on her jeans. "Maybe."

That was good enough for Sara, and she nodded, her agile mind already piecing the story together. Only a few days ago her four friends had been stalked back through the desert, leaving them in mental pieces, and Catherine had admitted that whilst they had shot one pursuer, the other had got away, following them a long way home before disappearing.

Evidently the same thug had now come back, refreshed and intent on finishing the job, his curiosity too much to resist.

"We're going to have to fight him off," she said. "You realise that?"

"If we don't he'll only eat all our food," Grissom said, looking equally worried about this.

"And we don't have much as it is," Warrick said.

"Yeah, well, one guess at what he came for," Nick said.

He hovered beside Sofia, hurrying her up, and helped her pull her shirt down as she finished. Like a reflex Sofia dug in her pocket, and then pulled out a hair tie, sweeping her long hair up into a ponytail, ready for a fight.

"Well what do we do?" Sara asked. "Do we kill him, or shoo him away, or –"

"If we shoo him away he'll only be back," Grissom said. "When we're least expecting it, and maybe with friends."

"Let's not risk that," Catherine said, her eyes hard as steel. "Let's finish this, once and for all."

Her eyes looked murderous, as fierce as Sara had ever seen them, and she saw clearly that Catherine had unfinished business with the thugs who had pursued her the other night. Evidently it had not sunk far from her mind in the days since.

"Can you kill someone in cold blood?" Warrick asked.

Sara stared for a moment before she realised he was talking to her.

"Sara?"

"I – I don't know," she said. "I had hoped I wouldn't have to find out."

Now that the moment had come she felt nervous, and still tossed up what to do. A part of her felt like running – there was endless desert out there to hide in, and take cover between the rocks and long grass, but cowering, in the end, wouldn't solve anything. It would only delay the inevitable – a moment that for nine months she had feared she would have to face. It was easy to shoot someone when they were shooting at her, or her friends, but killing for the sake of eliminating someone was foreign territory.

"You don't have to find out," Grissom said. "There's a rock there, go sit behind it."

Sara shook her head; she did not know what she was going to do, but she knew she wasn't doing that. If the others were facing it, she would face it too, come what may.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly.

She stepped back up beside Warrick, her eyes scanning the fields between them and the far distant house.

"Sara, you're sick, you're in no state to fight –"

"You can barely stand, let alone shoot," Nick added, worried.

"None of us are in a state to fight," she said, anger flaring, and she closed the subject with one death glare.

And it was true. Though she was, arguably, the most physically ill – still faint and slightly weak – none of the others were advertisements for good health, either. In the mental department, especially, all of them were suffering. All of them had deep scars from the overwhelming events of the last week.

"Then let's at least take cover," Warrick said. "Let's not stand in the open like sitting ducks."

Sara nodded – this thought was logical – and her adrenaline again flew into gear. She turned on her heel and dashed back to gather up their supplies, hiding any trace that they had been there, and then rushed to the collection of boulders that Grissom had indicated earlier, and stashed the lot behind them, Sofia helping her.

"Let's take cover," she said.

She knew they did not have long, that if Catherine and Sofia had indeed been seen the thug was probably already on his way, and for that reason she did not waste time. She tugged on Grissom's elbow, and hurried with him over to a strategically placed boulder, flanking it with him, their guns drawn. She saw the others take similar cover – Warrick choosing a dead tree, and the other three rocks off to her left.

"If they start shooting, take cover," Grissom said. "No heroics."

"Don't worry about us," Nick said, weapon raised and aimed. "One shot's all I need."

If Sara could have chosen one moment for Nick's macho confidence to appear, she was glad that it was now. Over the last few months she had discovered that Nick had a natural aptitude for shooting; he had, after all, grown up in Texas, and had been trained in that particular art ever since he was a child. He was a natural marksman, and, furthermore, she knew from experience on their last trip to Vegas that Sofia had a fair talent for it too. She had more PD experience than all the rest of them combined, which right now, was a good thing.

Sara felt her own experience was by far second rate in comparison, but still she was not hiding. If she died, she would not die a coward. That much had always been clear.

Silence fell – the agonising silence of waiting, but Sara held her focus, gun trained.

"Sara?" Grissom asked.

Sara ignored him. She knew if she so much as glanced at him, she would regret it. She knew he would cast her a pleading look, that he could handle anything except for her voluntarily putting herself in danger, but she felt exactly the same. She could not handle these thugs continually targeting her friends, especially Catherine and Sofia, and did not want them going through what she had gone through. It ended now.

Hiding behind a rock was not an option.

"Sara?" he repeated.

There was a pleading tone in his voice, but again she ignored him. She tried to hold her ground; she felt sweaty, uneasy on her feet, but she would not move. Now was not the time to faint.

"Hold still," Warrick said, somewhere distant.

She blinked, her vision spotty. She withdrew a hand from her gun to hold the boulder, sick to her stomach.

"Sara?"

"Gil, I –"

A gunshot fired.

Sara retaliated without thinking, firing fast, and as a barrage of bullets joined her, her knees weakened. Her vision went spotty, and the fields of grass blurred before her.

Someone was shouting – panicked shouts. Was it Nick? Sofia?

She gripped the rock, and her knees sank from beneath her.

There was a blood-curdling scream, and then all went black.