A/N: Final chapter. I hope you all will enjoy how I bring this to a close!

Chapter 13: Endgame

(Lawrence Gordon)

"Mr. Dawson, and Ms. Sidle are dead, and Lawrence here is responsible for their deaths…Let the game begin." Hoffman said.

"You son of a bitch! You said you were giving me a chance! You said this was my game! Jill was right about you, Hoffman! You're just a rabid dog that needs to be put down!" he yelled, panting from his outburst.

"Is that really what you think?" Hoffman replied, laughing in an almost light-hearted manner. "That skank deserves to be in hell with her ex-husband. What John started, it's not working. People aren't learning." Hoffman said, and a click was heard as the speaker was deactivated.

He slowly looked at the two men before him; their faces showed many emotions ranging from pain, to heartbreak, to rage.

"Listen, before you do anything drastic, you need to know that…" he started to explain.

"Shut up!" the bolt-cutter-wielding man snapped.

"I'm a victim here, same as you." he said, tugging at his wrist restraints as memories of Adam and the bathroom flashed before his eyes.

"You endangered the lives of seventeen people! Two of them are dead. They don't deserve it. They were good people." the other man declared.

"I had nothing to do with that." he said, hoping they'd believe him, but knowing they wouldn't.

"That's not what the other guy aid." bolt cutter guy said.

"I can help your friend, here. He's not looking to good. I was a doctor before…all of this." he said, looking up at them. They didn't seem to trust him yet. "Let me help. That's all I've ever wanted to do was help people." he continued, trying to get some sympathy points.

"I don't need your help." the younger man said, looking down at his injured hand.

"So you think. Listen to me. Mark Hoffman, the guy who introduced us, he's not going to let you go. He enjoys brutality. He's a sadist! Let me go, and we can get out of here. I can lead you out." he said.

"I trust this mysterious speaker guy more than you right now." bolt cutter guy said.

"So that's it, huh? You're going to kill me and take your chances, which, by the way, are pretty slim?" he asked, scowling.

"I'll take those odds." the injured man said, getting a brief flash of evil in his eyes.

"Greg…" the older man started to protest.

"No! This is for Sara, for Bobby, for all of us!" Greg insisted.

"We kill him, we're no better than the criminals we put away." bolt cutter guy said.

"Grissom! Sara's dead! She's never coming back! Killing this guy is the only closure we're gonna get. No jury will convict him; he'll use some insanity plea. Are you really saying you're gonna let this…scumbag live another day?" Greg asked.

"Listen to your friend, Greg. I'm the only way you're going to get out of here alive." he interjected.

The two shot him a dirty look and he raised his eyebrows at them.

"Killing me won't bring your friends back. Are you willing to become the things you hunt for even a second? If you kill me, it won't change anything." he said in his defense.

"Hell yes, I'm willing! Like your buddies said, I'm a un convicted murderer." Greg snarled.

"No. We're not going to kill him, Greg. He's…he's not worth it." Grissom said.

"Not worth it?" Greg repeated incredulously.

"Yes." the man said, cutting one of the shackles.

"Grissom!" Greg persisted, keeping his good hand on the wall.

"This 'Mark Hoffman' guy is probably the reason we're alive…" Grissom started.

"Tell that to Sara and Bobby." Greg mumbled, interrupting.

Lawrence looked to his other chain, waiting for it to be cut. "What are you waiting for?"

"I've seen enough sociopaths in my line of work to recognize one by their behavior. You don't care that we're being picked off." Grissom said.

"As soon as I heard that you guys were subjects, I left to help!" he insisted.

"Regardless of your intentions to help us, I'll give you a chance. We don't kill unarmed people." Grissom said, propping the bolt cutters by the door.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"This is for Sara." Grissom said, helping his friend as they left.

He sat in silence, reaching and stretching for the bolt cutters. Flashbacks of his trap with Adam kept resurfacing in his mind. He gave up, panting in frustration as he leaned back against the wall.

Feedback emitted from the speaker before Hoffman's voice became clear.

"Looks like you live to see another day." his rival said.

"And I bet it's just eating you up inside." he said, looking up to the camera.

"Oh, on the contrary…" Hoffman replied as the door swung shut automatically.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking from the door to the camera as he tried not to freak out.

"Remember hose carbon monoxide pumps?" Hoffman asked.

"The ones you said didn't exist? Yeah." he replied, not liking Hoffman's tone.

"I lied about Brad and Ryan's lie. You see, the pumps do in fact exist. I'm looking at the activation switch right now. The lie was about the heart rate monitors triggering the pumps' activation." Hoffman said.

He laughed, but it sounded more like a nervous chuckle to him.

"What about my game?" he asked.

"You failed. Game over." Hoffman replied, his voice full of malice as the INTERCOM was again turned off.

"No…NO!" he cried, yanking at his shackle desperately. He knew that at any given moment, he could be breathing in the colorless, odorless gas.

'What am I supposed to do? I can't hold my breath forever.' he thought, again reaching for the bolt cutters in the darkness of the sealed room. Within seconds, he started feeling extremely fatigued and light headed.

"No…" he groaned, feeling weaker and weaker with each heavy breath he took. The concentration of the gas must have been extremely high due to his quick-developing symptoms.

He began to feel dizzy and sick to his stomach as his eyes closed. He tried with all his might to keep them open, but the gas was taking its toll. As seconds ticked by, he could feel his organs shutting down.

He felt like he was suffocating, but was too weak to even struggle.

Out of primal instinct, he numbly tried to remove his shirt, as if it was too tight, but he couldn't achieve even that. He inhaled his last polluted breath, killing his oxygen-starved organs, and himself.

(Nick)

It could've been minutes since they left the room with the two bodies strung up by their feet, or it could've been hours. Time seemed immeasurable and unimportant under the current circumstances.

Feedback and static abruptly blared through the hall, stopping everyone in their tracks.

"Attention Crime Scene Investigators and Lab Technicians." a voice announced. It was definitely male, and unaltered unlike the voices on the tapes. "Congratulations. You have survived this far. Paramedics have been notified and will arrive at your location in a matter of minutes. I suggest you wait outside and get some air." the voice said, and every door swung open at the same time. "Know that those responsible for your capture have been dealt with. Unlike them, you all have a new understanding on life."

There was a distinct 'click' and the building was returned to silence.

Everybody looked at everyone else, amazed that they were going to make it out. Some of them ran out to the nearest door leading to the outside world, visibly happy. As Nick helped Catherine outside, the sweet sound of sirens hit his eardrums.

He watched the arriving police cars and ambulances, feeling relieved and overjoyed. As he examined their location, he saw Hodges carrying an unconscious Wendy towards them.

"Hodges!" he called.

"She's okay. She's going to be okay." Hodges replied, unable to hide the worry in his voice. Grissom and Greg also announced their presence as they emerged from the building.

'God, who else was trapped here?' he thought, not really wanting to know the answer.

The cavalry pulled in, and paramedics immediately took Catherine, Brass, Wendy, and Greg away. As he was being examined himself, Henry and Super Dave were taken away in another ambulance. When he was giving his statement to the police, Archie was found in a nearby car, with a nasty broken leg!

Seven gurneys were used to carry each dead body from the building. They were sealed, so Nick couldn't tell who was in them, nut he prayed they weren't all people he knew from the crime lab.

The ride to the hospital was a blur.

When he arrived, he didn't even remember leaving the abandoned factory! He cautiously stepped inside the hospital and spotted Grissom, Warrick, and Hodges nearby, and he immediately approached them. When they met, he gave each of them a much needed hug, and they shared remarks of joy that they were all okay. Doc and Mandy arrived a couple seconds later and a doctor approached the group.

Nick had a hundred questions he wanted to ask, but he waited for the medical professional to speak first.

"I'm Dr. Enthy, I'll be observing your friends and will update you on their statuses. First off, I just wanted to say that we've been informed about your ordeal…Jigsaw's accomplices. I've always been creeped out by cases like these." the doctor said, shiftily looking from them to his papers. "I've been given your friends' files, and I'll try to be as brief and thorough as I can. Starting with those who were brought in first…" Dr. Enthy flipped through some papers.

"Ms. Willows had lost a lot of blood, but was given a transfusion and is currently stable, but under observation. She was beginning to develop sepsis, but we caught it early enough, and she should pull through."

Nick sighed in relief. He knew she was going to make it, he just knew it!

"Mr. Sanders has developed a condition known as Compartment Syndrome in his hand and foot. Unfortunately, we were a little late in catching it, but we're acting fast. With a little hope and luck, he'll pull through without amputation, but if everything goes our way, he'd still have to undergo months of physical therapy to regain use of his arm and leg." Dr. Enthy continued.

'Amputation?' he thought worriedly, noticing a look of guilt come across Grissom's eyes. He put a reassuring hand against his boss' back, noticing the look in his eyes fade a fraction.

"Mr. Brass has been moved to the burn unit. His injuries weren't as severe as we initially thought, and he should also be fine, but he's going to spend some time here. Ms. Simms suffered some electrical burns to about twenty percent of her back. Some of the burns are more severe than others, and she'll have to remain here for a couple weeks."

Hodges sighed in relief, his hands clenched together as if in prayer.

"Now for the later arrivals." the doctor continued, flipping to another page. "I'm happy to say they'll all be released by the end of the week, if not earlier. Out of the three, Mr. Johnson will spend the longest time here. His leg break was what we call an open fracture, one that has pierced through the skin. He's still undergoing minor surgery to repair the break, but it should heal nicely. Antibiotics will destroy any infections he might have gotten while dragging his leg on the ground, too."

Everyone smiled at the good news.

"Mr. Andrews' frostbite is being treated and he'll make a full recovery within a day. Now, for the final patient, Mr. Phillips; he's also undergoing minor surgery to remove the five nails embedded in his shoulder. He will also make a full recovery within a day or two." Dr. Enthy said, closing the files. "Are there any questions?"

"When can we see them?" Grissom asked.

"I'm afraid Mr. Andrews is the only one able to accept visitors at the time, but I'll be happy to take you to his room." the doctor answered.

As they were visiting with Henry, Nick noticed that Mandy had fallen asleep.

'Poor girl. Even asleep, she looks exhausted.' he thought sadly. No one wanted to wake her, so no one talked above a whisper.

In the blink of an eye, several doctors ran past Henry's room, all in the same direction…and they were in a hurry. Mandy woke up, and everybody followed the doctors, saying nothing, but sharing worried looks.

Dozens of doctors were split between Catherine's, Greg's, Archie's, and Super Dave's rooms, hovering over each of them, who had flat lined. Nick wondered about Jim and Wendy, but his eyes kept moving from each of the four rooms, watching intently for them to recover.

'They were all supposed to pull through! Archie and Dave suffered minor wounds! Why are they dying?' his mind raced in worry and fear.

He heard a scream and whirled around, noticing Henry and Warrick crumpled on the ground.

"Help! We need help!" he yelled, looking around for a doctor or nurse.

"Stop compressions, she's gone." a voice said. He looked back and saw the doctors leave Catherine's room. Greg's room was also abruptly vacated, and he stared in shock at the two corpses, covered by pristine, white sheets. Archie and Super Dave were also covered up, and Nick shook his head in confusion. You can't die from a broken leg! He looked back to Warrick and Henry, both of whom were also covered in sheets.

"What?" he asked to himself, utterly dumbstruck. Too dumbstruck to even feel sad.

"It was my fault." Grissom said, but his voice sounded warped, almost demonic.

"Griss?" he asked, looking to his boss.

"I did that to Greg." Grissom said, suddenly holding his issued gun. Before Nick even had time to blink, Grissom fired a bullet into his head and he fell to the floor.

"Grissom!" he yelled in shock.

Hodges, Mandy, and the Doc stared at him, holding hands. "Their time was up, Nick. Grissom couldn't handle it. Can you?" Hodges asked, his voice also sounding warped. The three of them smiled ear-to-ear and laughed maniacally.

Nick suddenly woke up in Henry's room. Sighing in relief and exhaustion, he rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. Everybody was sound asleep, except for Grissom.

'It was just a dream. Just a dream.' he thought, silently praying.

Three days later

(Grissom)

He had just returned to his home from Sara's and Bobby's funeral. It was depressing, but oddly comforting, as well.

Brass, Wendy, and Greg were unable to make it, much to their dismay, which included shouting and throwing things. Grissom didn't blame them for their anger, and knew that if they could have, the three of them would have shown up in gauze and hospital gowns.

There was a package waiting for him by his front door, and he scooped it up as he unlocked the door. He wasn't much of a drinker, but after the funerals, he wanted nothing more than to black out in an alcohol-induced haze, so he was unable to picture the sights of the two caskets in his mind…especially Sara's…

He opened the package and froze at its contents: a tape player.

Hands shaking, he pressed play.

"Funerals are always so depressing, aren't they, Gilbert?" It was the same voice from the INTERCOM in that factory.

"Mark Hoffman." he whispered.

"Such a sad sight as you watch your friends get put six feet under. Especially when the caskets are sealed." Hoffman continued.

'He was there?' he thought, furious and disgusted.

"I know you told the police my name. There's a BOLO out on me. Since you've ruined any chance I had at going back to being a detective, I guess I have no choice but to continue what I know isn't working. Maybe I can succeed where John Kramer failed in trying to rehabilitate unworthy souls. Try to catch me if you can. I hear Miami is nice this time of year, or perhaps Boston, or Chicago. So many choices…Give everyone my best. I know I have."

The tape ended and Grissom sat in stunned silence, trying to process what he had just head.

A/N: Leave a review if you have the time. Was the story a success or a fiasco in your mind?