Title: Sign Language

By: fawkes21

Pairing: mostly gen, Nick/Greg friendship more than anything else

Rating: PG

Author's Note: I don't own them. Too bad - I think I would have some fun if I did.

Summary: Nick and Greg find themselves in a dangerous situation - and Nick comes up with an interesting solution to get them out of it.

***

The sun was sinking low on the Las Vegas skyline. In a couple of hours the Strip would come alive as the criminals, who were waiting for the cover of darkness so they could have their fun, came out to play. And Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders were running late.

"Man, Grissom is gonna kill us!" complained Greg glancing at his watch. "We're supposed to report to work in 25 minutes. Why didn't you go to the bank this morning, when you weren't - oh I don't know - doing anything?"

Nick couldn't help but grin at the mock outrage his friend displayed. "Cool your jets Sanders. I just have to make this deposit and we can go. We'll be at headquarters with a minute to spare". Despite his glib reply, Nick was a little worried himself. They were running behind. And Grissom would be pissed off if they were late. But the bank would be closing in a few minutes and he needed to get this money onto his credit card before the creditors came knocking on his door. He glanced at the line in front of him. Three people, a woman and two men, were waiting to be served.

"We'll be out of here in 10 minutes" he told Greg confidently.

The words had barely left his mouth when glass doors behind them shattered in an explosion of gunfire. Nick instinctively dove to the floor, dragging Greg down with him. He used his body to shield the younger man from the rain of glass.

From his vantage point on the floor, he could see three pairs of thick- soled black boots stepping up to the bank tellers.

"No body move and no body gets hurt"

Nick glanced at his watch. It looked like they were going to be late for their shift after all.

***

Voices.

That was all Greg could make out. Voices that were yelling at someone, but he wasn't sure what they were saying. All he knew is that he was now lying on the floor of the bank with glass around him, and three very big men with guns were somewhere in front of him. He turned to his left to see if Nick was OK. Their eyes locked, and Greg started to ask if Nick was hurt. Before the words could come, Nick had put his finger to Greg's lips and given a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. Greg got the message. Don't talk. Don't draw attention to yourself. Don't give these men any reason to come over here.

Greg heeded his friend's unspoken advice. He didn't speak. Instead, he tried to focus on the voices.

* * *

Nick was also listening to voices, but far more intently than Greg had been.

"What are we going to do now? The cops are going to be all over this place in a couple of minutes. How the hell are we going to just waltz out of here with all this cash?"

The person sounded panicked. Not a good sign, thought Nick. When criminals began to lose control of the situation was when innocent people got hurt.

"Shut up!" roared a second voice. "Let me think.." The man trailed off, lost in his thoughts for a moment. He paced back and forth in front of the counter a few times, rubbing his temple with his gun. He was agitated and started to glance wildly around the room. His eyes landed on the people who had dropped to the floor when the bullets had taken out the doors. A cruel smile formed on his lips. He started towards them.

Nick felt his stomach drop from underneath them as the man began to walk towards them. The robbers where getting desperate and Nick had a sinking suspicion that he prayed would be wrong.

"What are you doing? You said we weren't going to hurt anybody!" the first voice echoed through the bank.

The man who was walking towards them paused and let out a short, cold laugh.

"This is a bank right? Well I am just going to take out a little 'insurance policy' to make sure that we get out of here with the goods. Get over here and help me" Nick could feel Greg trembling slightly next to him. The kid was scared no doubt about it. Nick watched as the men walked past the first man, a business-type who was probably in his 50's. They dismissed him as "too old". They glanced at the two women. The first looked like she was in her 20's, and she was pregnant. The robbers dismissed her as "too much hassle". The second woman was in her 40's and had a large cast on her left leg. They decided that it would be too difficult to use her.

Which left Nick and Greg.

Nick glanced at his friend. Greg had that awful deer-caught-in-the- headlights look on his face. The men were quickly approaching. Nick leaned in as close as he could and whispered to Greg.

"Don't say a word. Play along with everything I do. Put those dramatic skills to work".

The men stopped in front of them. Nick took a deep breath. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen now. Nick had an idea. But, he wondered, would it work?

***

Greg fired a look at his friend. He had no idea what Nick was up to, but he trusted the CSI's instincts. Whatever, Nick needed him to do, he would do. Especially if it kept him alive.

The heavy black boots of the apparent leader stopped in front of Greg.

"Get up". The voice was cold, unforgiving and carried a hint of a threat to it. Greg glanced sharply at Nick. His friend gave him that same, almost non- existent shake of the head. It's message? Don't do it.

"I said, GET UP!" The words reverberated around the room. The man, angry at Greg's lack of cooperation, grabbed the young lab tech by the back of his coat and yanked him to his feet.

"Don't even try to be a martyr, boy! When I tell you to do something, you damn well do it! Do you really think you're in the position to be defiant?" His voice continued to rise as he shouted at the young man. Greg was getting nervous. The man was clearly agitated, but Nick had told him not to speak. Greg was torn between heeding his friend's advice and trying to calm the man in front of him. Before he could make up his mind, Nick spoke up.

"Leave him alone. Yelling at him is not going to make him cooperate". His voice was calm, level, the polar opposite of the robber's.

"Oh?" sneered the man who held Greg, "And why is that?".

"Because he's deaf."

This stopped the criminal's tirade. He stared at Nick. So did Greg. Had he heard his friend correctly? Had Nick just told that man he was deaf?

"Excuse me? Did you just say what I think you said?" one of the other men spoke up, all the while glancing nervously at his partners.

"That's right. My friend here is deaf. Has been for years. I'm his interpreter" Nick prayed that he sounded convincing. Greg's life, and his, depended on it.

"Well then smart guy" said the leader, "Interpret this: tell him that if he wants to live, he'll do exactly what we.I mean, YOU say". Nick glanced at Greg. The kid met his gaze. Well, Nick thought, let's see you use those dramatic skills that you're always flaunting around the lab Greggo. Make me proud. With a deep breath, he made a series of hand gestures that he hoped looked like sign language.

Greg didn't miss a beat. As soon as Nick finished, he responded with his own series of hand gestures. He would have laughed if the situation weren't so serious. This had to be the craziest idea Nick, or anyone for that matter had ever had. But the situation was very real, and very dangerous. And everyone was waiting for Nick's explanation of what Greg had just "said".

"Well? What did he say?" The leader sounded impatient. They needed to get out of there soon if they wanted to stay out of jail.

"He said that he'll do anything you ask." Nick trailed off. He faltered for a moment. He knew Greg wasn't going to like this next part. ".as long as you take me too. He needs me there to interpret for him".

Greg's stomach dropped. Nick was going to get himself taken hostage as well because of him. Greg wanted so badly to speak up, to tell them to leave Nick and take him alone, but he couldn't risk blowing their cover. If he talked now, they would now that Nick and he were lying, and would kill them on the spot.

The leader mulled over Greg's supposed proposition for a few seconds.

"Fine. But if either one of you gives us any grief, you both die" He shoved the barrel of the gun against Greg's head for emphasis.

"We're not going to give you a reason to shoot us, trust me" Nick replied, wishing that the man would get his gun away from Greg's temple.

Greg flinched as the gun was held against his head. He really didn't like this. Yet, despite his overwhelming sense of guilt that Nick was going to enter into this situation just to save him, Greg couldn't help but feel a strange sense of relief. No matter what happened, he wasn't going to be alone.

***

Gil Grissom was annoyed.

He liked to think he was a patient guy. It had proved to be an invaluable skill during his years as a CSI. But even Grissom had his limits. And when not one, but two of his team members were late reporting to work, he got annoyed.

"Any luck reaching Nick or Greg?" He called out to Catherine, who had been trying to reach them for the last 20 minutes.

"None so far." She pushed the redial button on her cell phone for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"Come on Nicky, pick up" Muttering to the phone didn't seem to be working, but given the situation, it was all Catherine could do. She wasn't worried about Nick or Greg, at least not yet. After all, they were only half and hour late. They could be stuck in traffic. Or maybe they had simply lost track of time. No, it definitely wasn't their physical safety that she was worried about at the moment.

But she was worried about what would happen to them if they didn't show up soon, and have a darn good excuse as to why they were late. She knew Grissom well, maybe better than anyone on the team, and she could read him like a book. At the moment, the title of that book read: "Anger Management 101: A Textbook Case in Suppressing Rage". If Nicky and Greg didn't show up soon, Grissom was likely to blow a gasket. If there was one thing he hated, it was reporting late to work.

Catherine sighed, crossed her fingers and pressed "redial". Maybe this would be lucky attempt one thousand and one. No such luck.

* * * *

"Grissom?" Sara's voice floated in through Gil's open door. "O'Reilly just called. Requested our presence down at the bank on the corner of Hawthorne and Finch. Said something about an armed robbery going down just a few minutes ago".

Grissom frowned. "Did he say how many victims?" I

"No. He just said that he needed us down there ASAP" Sara shrugged her shoulders. O'Reilly had sounded tense on the phone. That was understandable when dealing with the aftermath of a crime. But it was unusual for O'Reilly to be so cryptic about asking them to report to a crime scene.

Grissom stood up. "Tell Cat to keep trying to track down Nick and Greg. And tell her that the minute she gets them on the phone to find out why the hell they didn't report to work on time". Oh yes. Grissom was definitely annoyed.

* * * *

Grissom and Sara arrived at the bank to a sea of flashing lights. There were at least half a dozen police cars there, a couple of ambulances, and of course, the local news crews.

"Wow. It must have been some show that these guys put on inside the bank to warrant this kind of attention", commented Sara as she climbed out of the car. "Wonder how bad it is?"

Grissom didn't reply. He was looking around for O'Reilly. He finally located him standing near what used to be the doors leading into the bank. Now, all that remained were the frames and some shards of glass. He motioned for Sara to follow him, and together they began to navigate their way through the various rescue personnel.

Sara was looking around, and began to feel uneasy. Everyone was looking at her in Grissom in a strange sort of way. It was completely unfamiliar to her. She leaned close to Grissom.

"Gris? How come everyone is looking at us like they just accidentally backed over my puppy? I mean, they are really starting to freak me out. They look at us like we're going to fall apart or something".

Grissom glanced around. Sara was right. People were giving them a series of oddly sympathetic looks. As they reached O'Reilly, Grissom pushed those thoughts from his mind and cut to the chase.

"How many?" Typical Grissom. Straight and to the point. O'Reilly fidgeted with his tie.

"Well, there aren't any dead anyways. But the guys who robbed this place walked out of here with a couple of hostages. We pulled the security tapes, and." He couldn't finish the sentence.

"I'm confused then" Grissom said. "If there aren't any victims, why are we here? We don't have anything to do with hostage situations".

O'Reilly led them over to a television monitor. Without a word, he pushed "PLAY". Grissom felt like the floor was going to fall out from under him. Sara was shaking. They watched in horror as Nick and Greg were held at gunpoint by three men with guns, and forced out of the bank.

Grissom now knew the reason why they hadn't shown up for work. They were being held hostage by three men who were fearless and reckless, which was a lethal combination. He felt oddly detached from the moment. He heard himself tell Sara to call Catherine and tell her to get down to the bank with Warrick as soon as they could. Grissom wasn't annoyed anymore.

Now he was just plain scared.

***

Nick was mentally kicking himself as he and Greg sat in the back of the van with two of the three men. He was starting to seriously regret his plan. Why hadn't he tried to get them to leave Greg behind? Why did he have to go and make up some crazy story? His brain was telling him that he had made a big mistake, that he had put Greg's life in more danger by coming up with this half-baked story about him being deaf.

Yet despite his internal monologue screaming at him about the stupidity of his plan, Nick's heart was telling him that he had done the right thing. He knew that if he hadn't spoken up, the men would have taken Greg. The thought of the kid being left alone with these three madmen made Nick shudder, and he knew that he would much rather be here in the van with Greg than back at the bank wondering what was happening. Nick had a protective instinct when it came to his friends and he worried about Greg in particular. He was just a kid and Nick knew that he was completely unprepared for situations like this. Hell, Nick was barely prepared for this and he had been working in law enforcement for years.

They had been riding in silence until Greg suddenly gestured at Nick. Nick looked up and watched his friend intently. Greg "signed" something to him, and jerked his head at the man in the front seat, and inquisitive look on his face.

Nick thought fast. Greg had just asked him a "question". Now Nick needed to translate it into something coherent.

"What did he say?" One of the men jabbed Nick roughly in the side with his gun. Nick winced.

"He was just asking me if I knew your names" Nick doubted they would tell him, but at least it would give him time to formulate a next thought.

The leader, the one driving the van, laughed derisively.

"Like we would tell you. You must be pretty stupid to think that we would let you guys find out our real names. If I told you, I'd have to kill you". There was a nasty smile on his face as he said those last words. Nick paled slightly as he "signed" the message back to Greg.

Greg began signing furiously at Nick again. He gestured at the men, and then held up one finger, then two, then three. He gave the man in the front a withering look for emphasis.

Nick grinned in spite of himself. Fake sign language or not, Nick understood exactly what Greg was saying there.

"Well my friend here says that is all fine and well, but you might want to give us something to call you by, because we both feel stupid calling you 'Bad Guys 1, 2, and 3". Nick watched as Greg smirked slightly from his seat at the back of the van.

"You're friend thinks he's pretty funny, doesn't he?" This time it was the man sitting next to Greg who spoke. Nick turned to face him. The man glanced forward and met the eyes of the leader in the rearview mirror. The leader nodded.

Without another word, the man brought the butt of the gun crashing into Greg's temple. The kid slumped over, unconscious. There was blood oozing from the wound.

"You bastard!" Nick made a move towards the man in the back. He paid instantly for his actions. A burst of white-hot pain tore through his head for a split second before darkness engulfed him.

***

"I can't see anything". Sara shook her head in frustration as she watched the security tape for the fifth time. "There is nothing on that tape that gives us any clues about the identities of these guys".

"Nothing that we can see Sara. But I'm willing to bet my life that Archie can pull something up back at the lab." Grissom hoped that his confident tone would help appease his team mate. He knew how worried Sara was. He had to give her something to be hopeful about.

"Is that your oh-so-subtle way of telling me to get out of here?" A faint smile tugged at the sides of her mouth.

"Am I that transparent? Yes, I want you to get this tape to the lab. Have Archie enlarge every frame if you have to. Just find something for us to work with".

"Gee, thanks for not putting any pressure on me" Sara grabbed the tape and headed for the door.

She was leaving just as Warrick and Catherine entered.

"Sara, have you guys found anything?" Catherine tried to keep her voice level, but the expression on her face belied the tone in her voice.

"Grissom wanted to wait for you guys before we got down to business. We've been watching the security tape but we can't find anything on it. I'm heading back to the lab to look at it more closely." She directed them towards Grissom and disappeared into the throng of people who surrounded the bank.

As Catherine and Warrick approached Grissom, they noticed a small cluster of people waiting over to one side. One woman was crying, another was trying to comfort her, and the rest were looking around nervously. They looked like they wanted to be anywhere but there. They must be our witnesses, Warrick thought to himself. He wondered if anyone had spoken to them yet.

"I thought we'd started by interviewing our eyewitnesses" Grissom said before Warrick and Catherine had a chance to say anything. Warrick had always thought Grissom had the uncanny ability to voice other people's thoughts for them, and this was another one of those times.

The group of people looked up as the CSI's approached them.

"Can we go home now?" The young woman who had been crying looked up at Grissom with a pleading look in her eyes. She looked terrified - and very pregnant. Grissom smiled at her.

"Soon miss. My name is Gil Grissom, and this is Catherine Willows and Warrick Brown. We're from the Las Vegas crime lab. We need to get as much information from you as we possibly can."

One of the back tellers, a man who Grissom guessed to be in his early thirties, spoke up.

"No disrespect sir, but why does the crime lab need to talk to us. Isn't that a job for the detectives or the police?"

Grissom glanced at Catherine. He hadn't wanted to say that the two hostages came from his department. But these people were clearly no fools. They wanted some answers from the CSI's as well. Grissom sighed.

"The reason the crime lab is investigating is because the two men that were taken work for me. We are going to be investigating this as not only a bank robbery, but as a kidnapping. We need your help to try and identify the men that did this."

Catherine took over. "Did the men say anything to any of you before they left?"

The man in his fifties spoke up. "They said that they were going to take out an 'insurance policy' to make sure that they got out of here ok. They started walking past each of us -"

"I thought they were going to kill me!" The young pregnant woman cried out "They were waving the guns around and they were looking at me and I thought that they were going to shoot me! Oh God-"she broke off into sobs, burying her face in her hands.

Catherine knelt down in front of her and took her hand. "Miss, I know this is difficult. But you're safe now, and we need you to do your very best to stay calm for us. Our friends lives may depend on it" Her own voice caught in her throat on those last words. The woman nodded her head, and dried her eyes. She took a deep breath and continued with the story.

"Well, like the gentleman was saying, they walked past each of us. But they found reasons not to take any of us"

"They said I was too old!" the man piped up. Catherine had to bite back a smile at the indignant tone in his voice.

"They wouldn't take me because they thought I was too big a risk" said the pregnant woman. "And they didn't take her (pointing to the other woman) because they thought that it would be too difficult to move her on the broken leg"

"They were smart. They knew the risks of taking these guys, so they moved on to Nick and Greg" Warrick said.

"They were desperate Warrick, not smart. They thought only about how they would be affected by taking these people. Don't ever confuse desperation with intelligence" Grissom's reprimand hurt Warrick. Usually Grissom reserved that type of comment for Nick. Warrick knew this was not the time to get upset. He wasn't allowed to have hurt feelings right now. Nicky and Greg were in danger and they needed him to stay focused.

"So they move on to the two people who are least likely to cause them problems" Catherine said quietly looking at Grissom. "My guess is they picked Greg - he's the smaller of the two"

The witnesses confirmed their fears. But that didn't answer Grissom's biggest question.

"Why take both of them? If these men were so concerned with how the hostages can pose a threat to them, why would they take two? The more hostages you take, the more you increase the risk for escape or for them turning on you. It just doesn't make sense"

The male bank teller interrupted. "They took both of them because they needed the older one - Nick did you say his name was? - to interpret for Greg".

The three CSI's looked at him. "Excuse me?" said Warrick looking completely bewildered.

"You know, interpret what they were saying to him?" He looked at the blank expressions on their faces. "Because he's deaf."

Catherine stared at him. "Greg is not deaf"

"Well Nick said he was. They did a whole bunch of sign language to one another, and Greg apparently signed that they had to take Nick too, in order to interpret".

Catherine thanked the witnesses, then pulled Warrick and Grissom aside.

"Grissom, I think I understand what's going on. Nicky would never let them take Greg. You know as well as I do that he think of Greg like a younger brother. So he comes up with this story, and manages to convince them to take him as well. That's why they took both Nick and Greg."

Warrick let out a low whistle. "Wow that is dangerous. Do you think that the guys really bought it?"

Grissom spoke up. "They must have. They left with Greg and Nick. But I think the more important question is, how long can they keep it up?"

* * *

Somewhere, in the dark, Nick began to stir.

***

Pain. Throbbing, stabbing pain. Nick felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to his skull. He forced his eyes open and tried to look around without turning his head. Any movement made his head feel like it was going to explode. From the spot where he lay Nick was able to determine that he was in a room. A dark, damp room with no windows. The cement wall had black mould around the edges and cracks were forming in the ceiling. Nick figured he was in a factory, or a warehouse of some sort.

A moan from nearby caught Nick's attention.

"Greg!" He tried to keep his voice down in case their captors were nearby. He dragged his body across the floor towards his friend. That simple act made spots dance in front of his eyes and he thought that he might pass out. He pushed the pain back and forced himself to examine his friend. The wound on Greg's head didn't look too bad. The blood had dried and the start of a massive bruise was present. Greg's eyelids were fluttering as he tried to pull himself back into the land of the living.

"Nick?" Greg's voice was weak, and he was still semi conscious. He forgot completely about the act that he and Nick were trying to keep up.

"Shhh" Nick touched Greg's shoulder and glanced furtively around the room. They were definitely alone, and Nick didn't see any cameras or any means of listening into their conversation. The heavy iron door was shut tight, and Nick didn't doubt that it was securely locked from the outside. He relaxed slightly.

"You OK there Greggo?"

"Matter of opinion" grumbled Greg as he brought a hand up to his head. "Ow!"

"Don't touch it!" Nick chided as he pulled his friend's hand away. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Greg shook his head and immediately regretted the movement. The world spun and he had to take a deep breath and lean forward to catch himself. He looked at Nick.

"What about you? You hurt at all?"

Nick gingerly touched the back of his skull. "I have a bit of a goose egg back here, but I'll live."

"What's the old expression? Don't count your chickens before they're hatched? Maybe you shouldn't bet your life until you get out of here" Greg sounded hopeless. And why shouldn't he? They were trapped in God knows where, both with head injuries, and there was no evident means of escape. They were screwed.

"Hey! Don't go getting all pessimistic on me" Nick's voice was sharp. "We're going to get out here, and we are going to be just fine, you hear me?"

"Oh and how do you propose we get out of here? We don't even know where 'here' is. God, your plans just keep getting better and better, don't they?" his voice was bitter and clipped. Despite his frustration, Greg regretted the words the instant they had left his mouth.

Nick looked taken aback. "Well I'm sorry that my plan doesn't live up to your expectations Greg. I did the best I could given the circumstances, which in case you forgot, included you having a gun held to your head!"

Greg gave himself a mental slap. Nick was right; he had done the best he could considering the situation. And Nick had unnecessarily put his life on the line to help him. Greg knew he had no right to sit there and criticize Nick.

"Look man, I'm sorry" he began "but I'm scared, OK? We are trapped here, and we have no idea what these guys are planning to do. For all we know, they might come in here any second and kill us."

"Greg, man, listen to me. I am just as scared as you are, but you gotta trust me. I am going to do everything I can to get us out of here in one piece." Nick hoped he sounded confident. The truth was, he was inclined to agree with Greg. They didn't seem to have a whole lot of options.

Nick forced himself to stand up and examine the room more closely. With the exception of the door, there was no possible means for escape. He tried the door.

"Big surprise. It's locked" He looked back at Greg.

Greg grinned at him as he too staggered to his feet. "Well what did you expect? That they would leave it open, maybe invite us out for tea?" Nick rolled his eyes at the teasing tone of the young man.

"I am trying to remain hopelessly optimistic."

Greg looked at his watch. "Geez, we've been gone from the bank for more than four hours. Grissom has to know by now what's happened."

"I hope so. I hope that he and Cath are at the bank right now piecing together what happened. Maybe they'll be able to track us down" Nick knew that it was a long shot. The men had been wearing ski masks and no one from the bank had seen the van that they had left in. Still, if anyone could track down these men, it would be Grissom.

"I think our best plan for now is to work on our cough 'sign language' so that we can avoid a repeat performance of what happened in the van" Nick suggested. Greg nodded.

"Sure thing. But they totally buy it. As long as neither one of us lets it slip that this is all just an act, they'll be none the wiser".

* * *

In the distance, a phone began to ring.

***

"LEAVE IT!" The leader roared at one of his accomplices as they reached for the cell phone on the table. It had been ringing every few minutes, and it was started to grate on the leader's nerves.

"Maybe if we answer it, they'll leave us alone" suggested one of his cohorts. The leader didn't respond to this. He simply shot the other man a look of pure venom, and silently warned him to not to speak out again. The leader rubbed his head. Like Nick and Greg, he too was suffering from severe head pain. However, unlike them, his pain was biological in nature.

The leader, known better as Isaac King was dying. He knew it. He hadn't divulged the entire truth his friends, Randy, Brian and Al. He had simply told them that he only had a short time left and that robbing a bank would be the solutions to all their problems.

In a way, it was the solution. Isaac was planning on taking his cut of the money and escaping to somewhere exotic, like Fiji. He was planning on living out the rest of his days quietly, anonymously and as peacefully as he could. He had been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour seven weeks ago. There was no miracle cure, no medical breakthrough for him. His doctor simply expected King to allow the searing pain to consume him, until he would one day fade into oblivion. That would not do. Isaac King was not the type of man to sit around and wait for death to come knocking at his door. He was going to go out in a blaze of glory. He wanted to end his life on his terms.

That's how he had come up with the plan to rob the bank. He talked his three best friends into helping him. All two-bit hoods in their own rights, they hadn't hesitated to step it up a notch and help Isaac in his plan to get the cash he needed to get away from Vegas. They had helped him plan the heist. He had thought of everything. They would make a dramatic entrance, get the cash and make their getaway.

But life has a nasty habit of throwing a monkey wrench into even the best laid plans. Once in the bank, Isaac had realized that he hadn't planned on needing to take hostages to aid his escape. He really hadn't meant to hurt anyone, but he didn't have any regrets either. He did what he had to do. And if that meant killing the two men down the hall, then that's what he would do. After all, he thought to himself, I am gonna die soon. My life can't get much worse.

"So what do we do about the deaf guy and his interpreter" Al spoke carefully, not wanting to agitate Isaac. Their leader was on the verge of snapping, and Al didn't want any anger to be directed at him.

"Kill them" there was no emotion in Isaac's voice, no hint of remorse.

"Just like that?"

Just like that" he confirmed. "I've got nothing to gain by keeping them around and nothing to lose by killing them. I figure we kill them, and make a break for it. By the time the cops find their bodies, I'll be halfway to Fiji"

Brian opened his mouth to speak, but the ringing of the phone interrupted him. Forcing himself to ignore it, he tried to produce a different solution.

"Look, I agree with you that they are more trouble than they're worth, but think about this. If we kill them, and the cops find them before we have time to disappear completely, we will end up in prison. Is that how you want to live out the last of your days, Isaac? You told me that you didn't have a lot of time left. Do you really want to spend the last few months of your life in the pen?"

Isaac didn't tell Brian that his life was dwindling down to weeks, at best. He didn't have months. And Brian made a good point. If they got caught now, his life would end in a blur of pain in the state penitentiary.

"So, what's your alternative?"

Brian thought for a moment. "Simple. We just leave them where they are. The cops are bound to track them down, and if they haven't, we leave some anonymous tip once we're safely out of the country. They'll never be able to ID us, and then we can just escape with a clean conscience."

Isaac nodded. "Alright. We go with Brian's plan. The deaf guy and his friend stay here until I give the say-so for a tip to be left, we clear?"

Before anyone could answer the phone began to ring again. Isaac's frustrations got the better of him, and he picked it up.

Randy's voice crackled across the phone. He had some interesting news for Isaac.

As he spoke, Isaac's eyes grew wider. A look of icy rage flashed across them. He stood, opened the door and peered down the hall to the room where Nick and Greg were being held.

"Well, well, well" he murmured "That is interesting."

***

Grissom was growing frustrated. He and Catherine had been dusting for prints for almost half an hour, and they had nothing. He couldn't say he was surprised; in a public place like this most of the prints overlapped. Warrick was trying to get some tire prints on the van, but they had parked on concrete, and there was little for him to go on. The witnesses had left. The only person remaining was the bank teller. He had stayed to file some paperwork and to make note of what had been stolen. He was on the phone right now, probably with the manager. At that moment, Grissom's own phone began to ring.

"Gris?" Sara's voice floated across the line when he answered. 'I think we might finally have something here. We enlarged the tape, and one of the guys, I think he's the leader, has a tattoo on the back of his neck. We could only see part of it, but it's pretty distinctive: A serpent, or snake with a crown on its head. It's actually kinda cool, not that I would ever…"

"Sara!" Grissom sounded impatient. "You're starting to sound like Greg. And let me tell you that incessant rambling doesn't suit you. So either tell me what you got, or go and play some of that God-awful music that Sanders is always listening to"

"Fine. There's no need to be testy. As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, is that I ran the tat, to see anyone with a tattoo like that had any priors. And lucky me, I found him: One Isaac King, 35 years old, been in and out of trouble with the law for years."

"Very good Sara! Now please tell me we have an address or something to work with"

Sara frowned. Her news wasn't that good. "Well, Brass sent some of his guys to check out King's last known address, but the place was deserted. Neighbours said about two months ago King took off. Said he was going to move in with some friends."

"Did they say who?" Grissom was growing more frustrated by the minute. They had a suspect, but no way of finding him.

"The neighbours didn't know. But I looked up King's priors, and it seems that he and the same three guys keep getting themselves into trouble. A few of years ago they were all arrested for assault with a deadly weapon – some bar room brawl turned ugly – but they plead to a reduced sentence. And a couple of his buddies did some time for knocking off a gas station a couple of years ago."

"Give me their names and fax us over the pictures. I can ask the bank teller if he recognizes them and if they said anything that might help us"

"You're grasping at straws Grissom. If the teller knew anything he would have said so."

"Sara, right now I'll grasp just about any lead we can get. The more time we waste, the worse our chances are of finding Nick and Greg…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

Alive. That's what he wanted to say and Sara knew it. "Ok, you ready to write this down?" she asked, trying to contain her emotions. "Their names are Randy Harris, Al Copeland, and Brian Morrison."

Grissom thanked Sara and hung up. He headed over to Catherine.

"We might have a lead. Sara managed to track down the names of some of our guy's buddies. I'm going to talk to the teller right…" He trailed off for the second time in five minutes. His eyes had landed on the nameplate on the teller's door.

Al Morrison.

Grissom stared at it. The teller was on the phone again, and he was talking excitedly to someone. As Grissom watched, Al glanced furtively around, and shot a nervous look out the window at him and Catherine.

Al Morrison.

Was it just a coincidence? Grissom wondered. Or had they been played for fools? Had Al Copeland adopted a new identity and borrowed his new last name from one of his best friends?

Grissom leaned into Catherine. "Cat, how many times has he been on the phone in the last half hour?"

"At least six. He hangs up, waits and tries again a few minutes later. Why?"

Grissom gritted his teeth. "Get Warrick in here" was all he said.

Warrick entered moments later. Both he and Catherine were completely confused.

"Grissom, what's going on?" Catherine had a feeling that Grissom knew something important.

"Catherine, Warrick. Look at the names on this list, and then look at the teller's nameplate. Tell me if you notice anything"

He watched as his team mates put it all together.

"Inside job" said Warrick in a voice barely above a whisper.

Grissom nodded. His eyes met Catherine's and he saw that the guilt he was feeling was reflected in her eyes as well. He had told the teller that the hostages worked for him. Catherine had told him that Greg was not deaf, that it was an act. They had given him information that could jeopardize Nick and Greg's lives. Grissom and Catherine may have signed the death warrant.

"Follow me, and say nothing" With that, Grissom headed into Al's office.

"Mr., Morrison is it? I have a couple of really quick questions for you. I was just wondering if you saw the vehicle that the criminals left in? I mean any information would be helpful.

The teller smiled wanly at them. "I wish I could help you, but I didn't see the van. I couldn't even tell you what color it is."

Catherine spoke. "But you did tell us it was a van. We only asked if you saw the vehicle. How then, did you know it was a van?" Her smile was hard and unforgiving. She had him.

He faltered 'Well, I mean, I guess it was a van, I mean that would make sense right? I mean…" Grissom interrupted him then.

"Who were you on the phone with just now? You've been awful anxious to reach them"

Al licked his lips nervously. "Um, that was my wife. I just wanted to tell her everything is Ok and that I'll be home soon"

"Well then you won't mind if we just call her back and assure her that everything is fine" Warrick reached for the phone.

"NO! They'll kill me if they find out you know!"

Grissom grabbed Copeland by the front of the shirt and pulled him close. "You listen to me. We already have you on aiding and abetting fugitives. Don't make us add accomplice to murder to the list".

Copeland let out a high, unnatural laugh. "Well you'll have to. I called them. I told them everything – everything that YOU told me. Your friends are as good as dead."

Across town, in an abandoned warehouse, Isaac King pulled open the door to the room in which Greg and Nick were talking.

***

Nick had heard the footsteps an instant before the door opened. He motioned for Greg to be quiet.

The door swung open and King and his cronies stepped inside. Nick noticed a smirk on the leader's face. Something was up; he just didn't know what. He just hoped that the men hadn't come down here to rid themselves of their hostages.

"Gentleman" the leader's voice was oily, with no hint of respect behind the word "I'm glad to see you're alright. I hope you got a good rest." He looked expectantly at Nick.

That was Nick's cue to "sign" message back to Greg. He had barely started when King grabbed his wrist.

"Now really, do you think that's necessary?' His smirk grew as he watched Nick's face.

Nick faltered for only a second. "Um...of course it's necessary. How else is he going to know what you just said to me?"

King smiled an evil, sinister smile. "I will admit that the two of you are good. I am a big enough man to admit that you had us all fooled, even me. But come now, don't you think it's time to drop the act".

Nick's blood ran cold. Oh God, he thought desperately, this is not happening. This man had to be lying. There was no way that he could know that Greg wasn't deaf. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to call King's bluff.

"Come off it man. You think that we're faking this? What kind of fools do you take us for? I told you before and I'll tell you again: he's deaf as a doorknob. I'm insulted that you would even say something like that!"

King tightened his grip of Nick's wrist. "Maybe I was wrong. But I don't think so. I have a little test for the two of you. Grab him!" He barked the order at the other two men, who immediately moved forward. One grabbed Greg from behind in a crushing bear hug. The other lunged forward and swept Nick's legs out from under him, pinning him face down to the cold, hard floor. King's smile grew.

"You see, I heard from a very reliable source that the two of you have been playing us for fools. And I don't take kindly to being made a fool of. SO I have devised a simple plan. You my friend need do nothing more than hold still. You (he turned towards Greg), if you can indeed hear me, you had best speak up now if you want to help your friend"

Greg said nothing. He pasted what he hoped was a look of confusion on his face, and shot a questioning look at Nick. He had no idea what these men were going to do, but he couldn't blow his cover. Like Nick, he thought they were just playing them, trying to trap them into admitting that the whole thing was an act. The leader shook his head at Greg's lack of response.

"I see. You plan on playing this little charade through. How commendable. Well, at any point, feel free to speak up. I've decided that I have had just about enough of your so called 'sign language'. I doubt if you even know a single word in sign language" His eyes were locked on Nick's. Nick was breathing very hard. Just what was the man going to do to him?

The leader continued as he walked lazily towards the open door. "In fact I am so fed up with your fake sign language that I have decided to make sure that you can't do it anymore. Granted, you won't be able to do much of anything anymore but.." he trailed off as he stepped outside the door for a moment. When he stepped back inside, Nick thought he was going to pass out.

The man was holding an axe. A big, shiny, razor sharp axe.

He strolled towards the spot where Nick lay, and looked down at him. He was clearly enjoying the look of utter terror on Nick's face. Behind him, Greg tried to pull free on his captor, to no avail. The leader turned to watch the struggle with a look of amusement on his face.

"Are you sure you don't want to speak up? Maybe spare your friend a fair amount of pain?"

Nick looked at Greg and shook his head violently. Nick didn't want to give the leader any reason to hurt Greg, and admitting that the deaf thing was all just an act would definitely give the leader reason to lash out. Besides, Nick told himself, the leader is probably still bluffing, waiting to see if we'll crack.

The leader looked at Greg and simply shrugged. "Very well. Have it your way. So, what do you think, left or right?"

The man holding Nick replied: "Right"

"Excellent. Places people!" The man holding Nick took his cue and stretched Nick's right arm out in front of him, pressing into Nick's forearm so hard that his hand ground against Nick's bone. Nick struggled, but it was no use. The man had thrown his entire body weight onto Nick, and held him in place. The leader stepped up and smiled once more.

"The time has come to bid your hand a fond farewell…Nick" He began to swing the axe down with all his might.

"WAIT!"

There was a terrific clang as the axe struck the cold cement, inches away from Nick's hand. All eyes turned to Greg. The leader spoke first.

"Busted". A look of pure malice spread across his face.

Greg hadn't planned on yelling out. But when the leader called Nick by name, he had realized that the game was over. The leader wasn't lying. He really did know that he and Nick had been putting on an act. Greg knew that the leader had every intention of cutting off Nick's hand. He had to say something. So he had cried out the only thing that made sense.

"WAIT!"

The single word seemed to reverberate around the small room for an eternity. Then everyone had turned to stare at him. He looked only at Nick, and tried to convey to his friend that he was sorry. He hadn't meant to blow their cover, but it was the only thing he could do. And now he watched in terrified anticipation as the leader approached him.

"Well, I must remember to buy my source a drink. He was right about you two. You are liars. Good ones, I'll admit, but liars nonetheless" The leader's voice was low and modulated. Greg almost wished he would yell. Hearing King speak so calmly was somehow more frightening than if he raged at him. While he spoke, the other man had pulled Nick off the floor and had a painfully tight grip on his arms, pinning them to his sides.

King threw the axe to the floor; he no longer needed it. "Gentlemen, I applaud your efforts. You almost got away with it, but you should never, ever trust a thief. Now, I am afraid that the time has come for me to eliminate the two of you" He began to draw his gun. Nick knew that they had to act now.

He threw his head back with all his might, smashing it into the nose of the man who was holding him. There was a sickening crack as the bone gave way, followed by a torrent of blood. The leader whirled around which gave Greg time to drive his foot back into his captor's kneecap. The man howled in pain and released Greg.

Nick lunged at the leader who was aiming his gun at Greg. "Sanders, RUN!" He wrestled with King as Greg bolted for the door. Nick drove his elbow into King's chin and turned to run out the door. He called out to his friend one last time.

"Greg, get help. Just get out of here!"

Greg was already down the hallway and out another door. He thought that Nick was right behind him; he didn't realize that Nick hadn't gotten away yet. He didn't hear Nick call out to him. As he turned down another corridor, which led him deeper into the warehouse, he never heard the single gunshot. Nor did he hear Nick's cry of agony.

***

Nick stumbled down the hallway, going in the complete opposite direction from Greg. He realized that he had lost him during the fracas in the room. Nick glanced down at the blood on his left arm. Thank God it was only a flesh wound. It hurt to move, but otherwise he was alright. The last thing he had heard was the leader cursing at his men as he tried to rally his proverbial troops.

"Get up goddamn you!" Isaac King was irate. His brilliant plan was falling to pieces in front of his eyes. Nick and Greg had escaped. His men were wounded. He thought that he had managed to take out Stokes, but he now realized that he had merely wounded him. He hadn't even inflicted enough damage to slow the older man down. He watched in growing frustration as his men staggered to their feet.

"I think he broke my nose!" Randy was gasping in agony as he tried to stem the flow of blood from his nose.

"If you don't get up and help me find them, I will break the rest of the bones in your body!" King's eyes were flashing with rage. Randy's protest died on his lips. He knew better than to say anything when Isaac was so upset. He wiped more blood from his upper lip and pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans. Across from him, Brian was also pulling himself up, trying to shake off the effects of Greg's kick to his knee. King glared at them.

"They don't leave here alive! Do you hear me? You see either one of them, you bring them to me. This is personal now. I want the satisfaction of watching the life rushing out of their body when I put a bullet in their heart".

Brian smiled calmly. "They'll never even find the way out. This place is huge, and we know every square inch of it. We'll get them no problem.

King leaned close to Brian. "Make sure that you do. Because if they escape, I will hold the two of you personally responsible".

The smile vanished from Brian's face.

Greg was hopelessly lost. He had no idea where he was, but he knew where he wasn't. He wasn't outside this stupid warehouse, factory, whatever it was. He couldn't leave without Nick. He prayed that Nick had gotten away safely. His inner voice was berating him, asking him why he hadn't stayed to make sure Nick was safe. Geez, Nick had gotten taken hostage because of him, and Greg was furious at himself for not staying behind to help his friend. The first thing he would do when he found Nick was apologize. Apologize for getting him into this mess, apologize for blowing their cover, apologize for leaving him behind.

But he had to find Nick first. The thought of reuniting with his friend seemed to strengthen his resolve. With a newfound sense of determination Greg continued down the hallway.

What he didn't know is that he was taking himself deeper and deeper into the warehouse.

One the other side of the building, Nick was in the same predicament as Greg. He realized almost immediately that he had no clue how to get out of the warehouse. He was also mentally raging at himself for not keeping a better eye on Greg. Nick was angry that he had allowed the men to take Greg in the first place. He made up his mind that the minute they found one another he would apologize. Apologize for allowing Greg to become a hostage, apologize for making up such a stupid story and apologize for not making sure that his friend escaped safely.

His arm was throbbing. He marvelled inwardly at the fact that a little bitty wound like this could produce so much pain. He forced himself to ignore and to continue further down the hallway. All he could now was keep quiet and hope that he would find the exit sooner or later.

King and his men had split up. Brian was right; they did know the building like the back of their hands. They had separated and agreed that if they found one of the hostages they would page Isaac to come and finish the job.

Brian had taken the sub-basement of the warehouse. There was nothing down there.

Randy had taken the north-east corridor. He was getting closer to the exits, but farther away from where Nick was roaming around trying to find his way out.

Isaac had taken the southern part of the building. It was darkest down here, but he knew it so well that he didn't even need his flashlight to see. And what he saw now made him very pleased indeed.

Less than twenty feet away, Greg Sanders had no idea he was being watched.

***

Nick was stumbling around the hallways. He felt like he was going in circles. He hadn't found the exit, but he hadn't found the bad guys either, which he figured was a pretty good thing. He could help but feel a knot of worry in the pit of his stomach. He wished he knew where Greg was. He didn't like the idea of his friend being alone while these madmen were gunning for them. He hoped that Greg had managed to escape but Nick suspected that Greg was just as lost as he was. This stupid building seemed to be an unending labyrinth of twists and turns. Every time Nick thought he was making progress, he found himself face to face with a concrete wall.

He continued to fumble his way through the dark when he noticed something. His heart skipped a beat, and he squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them to make sure it wasn't a mistake.

Light.

There was a sliver of light emitting from underneath a door at the end of the hallway. It was a dull, amber light. Not unlike a street light Nick thought to himself. Quickly, carefully he made his way to the door. Holding his breath, he pushed on it.

It swung open.

Nick found himself looking at the back lot of the building. The cool night air brushed his face and he thought to himself that nothing had ever quite felt so good. He started out the door, the hesitated. Greg was still inside. Or at least Nick thought he was. He didn't want to leave if Greg was still lost somewhere in that maze of a warehouse. Nick weighed his options. He could go back inside and look for Greg, but that could take hours. And if Sanders had got out then Nick would be risking his life for nothing. If he went outside he could find a phone and call for help. Nick was torn and unsure of how to proceed. There were just too many unaccounted for variables. The costs seemed to far outweigh the risks.

He slipped outside and shut the door behind him.

"Come on!" Warrick yelled as he hugged the curb, trying to squeeze past a car that seemed to be going awfully slow. They had finally managed to extract a location from Al, and he and the team were racing towards the warehouse. Up ahead he could see Brass' police cruiser roaring along. The red and blue lights flashed on the abandoned buildings, creating and eerie mosaic. Warrick followed as quickly and carefully as he could. The Tahoe was silent as the team silently tried to prepare themselves for the situation. Brass had tried to deter them from going ("It's dangerous; you could get hurt") but Grissom had left him little option ("We carry guns – and our aim is just as good as yours"). Warrick had been chilled by that comment, and the look on Sara's face suggested she was spooked too. It was very uncharacteristic of Grissom to display such a malevolent sense of rage towards anybody, but Warrick supposed that given the right conditions anyone would snap. And, he reasoned, having two of your team mates taken hostage was as good a time as any to get upset.

Brass killed the cruiser's lights. He didn't want to let the men inside the warehouse know that they were coming. They needed the element of surprise on their side if they wanted to get Nick and Greg out alive.

"Around the back!" Sara's sudden scream caused them all to jump a foot in the air. Warrick followed where her arm was pointing and saw a figure running around the back of the building.

"Get Brass on the walkie" he barked to whoever was listening as he turned the wheel sharply to the left in order to go around behind the building from the other side. As he reached the back of the building, he noticed that Grissom had drawn his gun. So had Catherine. Despite the look of fear and apprehension in her eyes, her hand was steady. The Tahoe was barely stopped before Gil and Cath leapt out and began to make their way around back.

"Brass said to wait for his signal" Sara told Warrick.

"A little late for that, don't you think?" he replied gesturing in the directions of Grissom and Catherine.

Sara swore under her breath and pulled her gun out. Warrick sighed and followed suit. They swept the perimeter with their eyes as they followed the two senior CSI's around the back. Suddenly shouts broke through the night air.

"That's Nick!" Catherine's voice floated over her shoulder as she and the rest of the team took off in a dead run in the direction of the noise.

Brass' advice went unheeded by all.

Nick wasn't sure why he did it. But when he saw the man coming around the side of the building, he had just reacted. He waited in the shadows of the metal stairs that led down from the loading dock until the man (whom he would later know as Randy) was close enough. Nick had launched himself onto the man's back, knocking the gun from his hands. They were wrestling on the ground when the sound of voices permeated the night air.

"Police! Step away from him!" Seconds later, Randy was being hauled off Nick by a large uniformed cop whose name Nick couldn't remember. He was vaguely aware of Brass' face in his line of sight when a pair of arms threw themselves around his neck from behind.

"Oh God Nick! We were so worried!" Catherine had a death grip around his neck as she hugged him ferociously. Her eyes travelled to the blood on his shirt.

"Just grazed me" he said before she could comment. He pulled himself to his feet and found himself looking into Grissom's eyes.

"Where's Greg?" they asked one another at the same time.

Nick shook his head. "I don't know. I was hoping he was with you"

"Well we were hoping he was with you!" Grissom retorted, upset that they were still short a team member.

"Gentleman, gentleman" a third voice broke through the noise. The CSI's aimed their guns at the sound of the voice. It sounded like it was coming from the loading dock, but they couldn't see anyone. The voice spoke again.

"You needn't worry about your friend's whereabouts. You see-" Isaac King began to step out of the shadows "-Greg is with me"

Nick's face paled as King stepped into the dim light of the loading dock, some 8 or 9 feet above them. One arm warm wrapped tightly around Greg's throat. The other held a gun to Greg's temple.

***

preoccupied with the loaded gun that was pressed against his temple. He was furious with himself for allowing the situation to come to this.

Minutes earlier….

Greg had no idea that he was being watched by the very person from whom he was trying to escape. He was standing in the barely lit hallway, debating his options when King had found him. Unaware of the presence of another living being, Greg cursed loudly. This hallway ended in what had to be the tenth dead end he had encountered. He began to backtrack. He stretched out his arms, trying to find his way down this maze. Unlike King, he didn't have a mental map of every twist and turn. His eyes weren't familiar to the seemingly impermeable darkness. He would gladly take the phosphorescent glow that the lights of the DNA lab emitted any day.

He continued to walk along feeling his way down the wall. The cement was cold, damp, slimy…. His internal analysis of the surface of the walls clicked off almost immediately. He was expecting to feel the rough texture of the wall when his hands came into contact with something else. Something warm. Something human.

Before his brain could process the information that he had just walked right into something that was very much alive, and very much vindictive, the person had grabbed him. King had pulled Greg towards him, pressing a hand tightly over his mouth to keep him from crying out. Greg had struggled momentarily but quickly realized the futility of his actions. The man was far stronger than Greg, and he was armed. Greg had ceased his struggles and breathed hard through his nose as he tried to quell the wave of panic that was sweeping over him.

"Well, well. We meet again Mr. Sanders. And once again, it seems that you are going to be my little insurance policy. Isn't it funny how we've come full circle in such a short period of time? Of course, this time, I won't allow you, or any of your stupid little friends, to play me for a fool. Now move!" With that, King shifted his grip away from Greg's mouth to his neck and forced him headlong into the darkness.

Which is how they ended up exactly where they were now. Standing on the loading dock, with police officers aiming their weapons at King. Greg scanned the scene. He saw Brass yelling something into a walkie talkie. Probably trying to get men into position to take out King, Greg thought. As his eyes continued to sweep the crowd he found the people he had most wanted to find. His team mates. Oh sure, he wasn't officially part of the team. Not really. He wasn't out in the field, but he knew, as they did, that without his contributions they would not be able to solve cases nearly as efficiently.

He saw Sara, a look of fear mixed with hostility on her face. Her eyes never left King and she tracked his every movement with her gun. There was Catherine, a look of fierce determination on her face. The mother of the team, she had that ferociously protective instinct and Greg had to admit that he was kind of flattered that she felt that way for him. There was Warrick, who looked like he was just waiting for King to give him a reason to fire his weapon. There was Grissom, looking surprisingly calm, despite the situation. Of course, that didn't surprise Greg. Grissom never panicked. You could tell him that there was a lion loose in the lab and his only reply would be to keep the doors shut and not take any meat out of the refrigerator.

Then there was Nick. He had been pulled behind Warrick the minute King had emerged from the shadows. There was a look of complete helplessness on his face. He was unarmed and there was nothing he could do except hope that Brass and his men would be able to take control of the situation.

"King! Let him go!" Brass shouted to the man, who merely laughed.

"Or you'll do what? I am the one with the ability to spray his blood across your faces. I am in control here!"

Grissom spoke with a quiet conviction. "No, you're not."

King looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"You're not in control here" King opened his mouth to object, but Grissom continued. "Yes we all know that you have the gun, and yes we are all too aware that you can pull the trigger. But you're not in control. You see, you're buddy Al – he's the one who told us where to find you by the way – says that you're sick. You may be in control of this situation, but you aren't in control of your body. And in the grand scheme of things, I'd say that should be your bigger concern."

King had flinched at the mention of his illness. His friends still didn't have any idea how sick he was. No one did. His frustration began to mount, and for the first time, his polished demeanor began to crumble.

"You want to know something? You think you're so smart don't you? You come out here, and you think that by mentioning my illness, I'll just let my guard down so your friend can get away? Well let me tell you something Mr. –"

"Grissom"

"Ok, Mr. Grissom. Try this: I am not merely sick. I am dying. The doctor found a tumour the size of a lemon in the back of my skull. It's wrapped itself around my brainstem. There is no operation that can save me. There is no medication that can ease my pain."

King paced a few steps, dragging Greg with him. Despite the danger this man posed to him, Greg's compassionate nature dictated that he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the man. He had no idea what it must be like to know that you were dying, and to know that there was absolutely nothing that anyone could do for you. Before he could give this much more thought, King began to speak again, his voice becoming more and more hysterical with each word.

"You don't know how this feels! I wake up each morning and go to bed each night with the same excruciating pain radiating throughout my head. The only way I can describe it is like someone has taken a corkscrew and is slowly turning it so that it digs deeper and deeper into my head. The only thing that makes me feel better is knowing that it will be over soon. I pray for death. I robbed the bank because I wanted to make the last days of my life as comfortable as possible. I was supposed to be in Fiji! But life has a way of kicking you when you're already down, doesn't it? So going back to your earlier statement about control, you're right: I am not in control of my body. I know exactly what is happening to it though. And I also know that because of my body's death sentence, I have nothing to lose by killing this kid."

Nick shot a desperate look at Grissom. King was clearly at the point of no return. He was going to die anyways. And Nick was terrified that he might take Greg down with him. A man who doesn't fear death is invincible. The consequences of his actions no longer matter, and he can do anything without remorse. Nick wanted so badly to jump up there and pull Greg away from this man. He couldn't stand the thought that Greg might die before he ever got a chance to apologize. Grissom was trying to think of something to say when King spoke again.

King had reached his breaking point. He was ready for it to be over. The only thing that would give him satisfaction now was killing this little punk who had made him look like a fool during the last few days of his life. Greg had to pay.

"Gentleman, I am sorry to cut this short but, I think it's time that we stopped the chit chat and moved things along. I know how this story goes. You are going to try and talk me out of killing him; all the while you will be moving a tactical team into position to take me out. You will do so, Greg will live and the story will have its happy ending. Well, this is MY story, and I think it's going to end a little differently. In my version, Greg takes a bullet to the head at close range, and then I turn the gun on myself."

This isn't happening. This is NOT happening Greg silently repeated these words over and over. He felt King tightened the grip on his neck, heard the gun cock in his ear. Oh my God. He's really going to do it. He's really going to pull the trigger. Greg wanted to cry out to Nick, to tell him he was sorry, but King's arm was crushing his windpipe. It looked like King was in control after all.

King spoke for the last time. "Well Greg, its been fun. I wish I knew the sign for 'You're dead' but I guess Nick will have to learn that one his own. Say good-"

King broke off suddenly as a blinding wave of pain tore through him. He released his grip for a split second to grab his head, which felt like it was going to split in two. Greg seized the opportunity and wrenched himself away from his captor. He pulled away so fast that he lost his balance and sprawled across the top of the metal stairs that would have lead him to safety. King recovered in time to see the young man trying to scramble to his feet. Rage surged through him. He would not be denied this last indulgence in his life. He turned to Greg, took aim and-

BANG!

Greg stared at King, a dazed expression on his face, not quite comprehending what had just happened. King stared back, that cold, evil smile emerging on his face.

Then he fell to the ground. Dead.

He had been shot by Brass, and not a moment to soon. Greg found his legs and forced himself to make his way down the stairs. His heart was still racing and he felt like he might throw up. But at that moment, he was glad that he could feel anything at all. Grissom was the first to reach him.

"Are you OK?" His hand grasped the back of Greg's neck, his trained eyes scanning for any signs of injury.

Greg grasped his arm and nodded. "I'm fine." He looked back at King's body. "I guess he got what he wanted. No more pain". Grissom simply smiled a sad sort of smile at the young man.

"Greg! Greg!" Nick was yelling and trying to push his way through to his friend. He reached him after what seemed like hours, but in reality was only a few seconds. He grabbed Greg's arms.

"I'm sorry!" For the second time that evening Nick found himself talking in tandem as both he and Greg apologized at the same time.

"What do you have to be sorry about? It was my fault that you got involved in the first place. I'm sorry that I blew our cover. I'm sorry that I left you when we were escaping. And I'm sorry that you got dragged into all of this." Greg didn't understand why Nick felt he owed him an apology.

Nick shook his head. "Don't you dare apologize. This is all my fault. It was my dopey plan that got us into this mess, and I am so sorry that I left you in there. I just didn't know what else to do".

Greg flashed his friend a reassuring smile. "Let's call it even. Oh but do me one favour?"

"Name it."

"Don't ever ask me to go to the bank with you again!"

***

"Greg, I need those results now! Actually, I needed them ten minutes ago…" Sara's voice cut through the lab.

"Patience is a virtue Sara" Greg replied casually. He was engrossed in a book, and he didn't even look up when Sara stomped over to him.

"What are you reading that could possibly be more important than my…" She trailed off. She looked like she was torn between hitting Greg with the book and laughing.

"I thought it might be an interesting read since I have some 'first hand experience' in this field" he replied glibly.

Nick chose that moment to walk into the lab. He looked at Sara, then at Greg. "At the risk of sounding like Grissom, don't you two have things to do?"

Sara stifled a laugh as she grabbed Greg's book away from him. "Greg was just catching up on some light reading"

Nick glanced at Greg, who was blushing just slightly. Nick glanced at his watch.

"Hey Sanders, you want to come with me to the bank? Stupid credit card company started phoning me yesterday to remind me that I am overdue on my payments."

Greg shook his head. "Not on your life. Remember what happened the last time we went to the bank? I would much rather stay here and face the wrath of Sara" She smacked the back of his head good naturedly.

"Greg, maybe you should go with him. Then you might get the chance to put what you've learned from the book to use" With that, Sara grabbed her print out and walked away. Nick leaned over to read the title of the book he kept hearing about and couldn't keep himself from laughing. Greg grinned sheepishly.

The book was "American Sign Language for Dummies".