Disclaimer: Not mine, though I really wish they were.

Author's Notes: I'd like to thank Kegel (From this point forward being known as Evil-In-Training) for inspiring a certain scene in this story, which prompted me to begin yet a new WIP. I'd also like to thank her for beta reading the first half of the chapter. Thanks girl!

Replies make chapters flow easily, so please let me know what you think!

Jenny

Captured:

Sara sighed, wiping the thin layer of sweat off of her forehead before slipping on her CSI baseball cap, already starting to feel the effects of the hot desert sun on her tired, overworked body. They had gotten the call shortly before midnight, possibly the 9th victim of a serial case they had been working for weeks, and 12 hours later, they were still sorting through mounds of conflicting evidence.

She stood from her squatting position, frowning and stretching as her back and leg muscles complained, and stiffly walked towards the porch entrance to the master bedroom, where Greg was intently searching for something to tell them about their unidentified victim. She paused in the doorway, her voice scratchy from fatigue, "Have you found anything?"

"Not even the slightest indication that she lived here. Men's clothing in the closet, drawers. No makeup, perfume, shoes...nothing in the bathroom to suggest he didn't live alone. I even went through the guy's bank statements, nothing that would indicate they were even dating. Brass is trying to locate him now." Greg replied, stifling a yawn. "I've got signs of a struggle, though, I'll let you know when I know something."

Sara nodded, motioning that was going to cut across to go towards the living room, trying to find the rest of their vic. They had been presented with a severed head and an abundance of blood upon arrival to the scene. Although, if this case was related to their prior serials, it was unlikely they'd find the rest of the body for awhile.

They called him Stew, off the record and behind Grissom's back. His common practice? Dismembering his victims and bringing the parts with him, leaving only the head behind. They would later, as with the other victims, find only the bones, the flesh being boiled off somewhere else during the process. The cases were disturbing on the best of days, horrifying on the worst. They would work the scene relentlessly for hours, only to find that nearly all of their evidence lead them in no direction whatsoever. After over a month of tracking this killer from victim to victim, they were no closer to finding him, or identifying him, than they were upon starting the investigation.

Reaching into her kit to retrieve some aspirin for a monstrosity of a headache, she froze, the hair on her neck standing on end as a wave of terror washed through her. She quickly spun around, feeling as if someone was watching her. She relaxed slightly, seeing that she was still alone, and tried to shake off the paranoid fear that sometimes crept up on her after a long shift. Swallowing the pills dry, she clicked her kit shut, lifting her camera to take another set of shots. It never hurt to be extra-careful when it came to a high profile serial case such as this one.

Snapping two close up pictures of the blood spatter on the interior wall, she felt the nervous paranoia sinking in once again. Hand on her weapon, she turned once more to the entrance, unable to control her pounding heart and shallow breathing even though she could plainly see that no one was around. Cautiously opening the front door, she frowned to find the entrance unoccupied.

Glancing over to the patrol car, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. It was even too hot for the officer to stand in the shade when he could retreat to his air conditioned car. She couldn't blame him...if there was anywhere she could be besides the stifling home with no air conditioning or the brutal outside sun, she'd gladly jump at the chance. With a sigh, she shut the door and moved towards the hall closet, a few mere feet from the door, and swung it open, hand once again on her gun. With a sigh of relief, she found it empty. Maybe now she could concentrate on her job instead of the paranoid fear of 'what-if's'.

Her phone vibrated against her side, and with a startled yelp, she pulled it out, breathlessly gasping, "Sidle." into the small black contraption.

"Sara? Are you alright?" Grissom's voice rang over the line, "You sound different."

"It's nothing." Sara replied, rolling her eyes as she squatted to open her kit once more, "Just working. We've got nothing."

"Any ID?"

"Because all women keep their licenses in their head?" Sara quipped, "No, and it doesn't look like she belongs here. There is no evidence that she lives here, or even stays over...no clothing, personal belongings, anything to indicate a female presence. We're still looking for something...just...anything. This guy's smart, Gris."

"We're smarter. Where's Nicky?" Grissom questioned, "If you guys haven't finished in the next hour or so, I'll pull in Catherine and Warrick early so you guys can get some rest."

"You don't have to do that, we can handle it. We're doing fine." Sara snapped, knowing fully well that he was just trying to be helpful, but resenting the fact that he was going to take her case from her, even if it was only temporary, "Nick went to pick us up lunch, have you tried his cell?"

"I tried his cell, but his call was breaking up too badly to understand him. I don't want you guys wearing yourselves out over there, when people get too tired, they tend to make careless mistakes." Grissom warned, "If you need a break, take one. The scene will still be there tonight after you have gone home and slept awhile."

Sara huffed angrily, "It'll get done, Grissom, don't worry about it."

She hung up the phone, ramming it into her pocket as she muttered, "Could have come here to help us last night, but no, you were too busy with your paperwork. Now you're concerned? That makes tons of sense, Grissom, really."

Hearing a quiet creaking noise behind her, Sara's heartbeat sped and she once again spun around to find herself alone. Maybe she did need a break from this case...she was starting to let her imagination get away from her.

She was saved from her paranoid, chilling imagination by her phone buzzing once more. Flipping it open, she snapped, "We'll never finish if you don't stop harassing us Grissom!"

"Woah, woah there." Nick's voice filtered through the line, "It's just me. What's he done to upset you now?"

Sara sighed, moving towards the coffee table with her printing powder, "He wants to call in Warrick and Catherine to take over for us."

"What! It's our case!" Nick exclaimed, "They aren't taking our case! We've been working to catch this guy for weeks!"

Sara groaned, balancing her phone on her ear while she began to print, "I know, but you know how he is, he doesn't understand what the big deal is. I told him no deal."

"Good, I haven't worked this hard just to hand it over to someone else because of one long day." Nick said gruffly, "I'll call him and let him know that it's no big deal for us to work O/T, we won't max out. What I was calling for..." He paused, yawning widely, "The sandwich shop I was going to go to had a huge line. What else would you want?"

"Anything's fine with me, you know what I like." Sara replied, "Let me go see what Greg wants."

"Just tried to call him, I guess he doesn't have his cell turned on." Nick murmured, "He should know better than that by now..."

Sara laid down her brush and jar of printing powder on the top of her case, calling out, "Greg? What else do you want for lunch? Nick can't get into the sandwich shop!"

After a few moments of silence, Sara spoke with a heavy sigh into the phone, "He must not be able to hear me, I'll talk to him and call you right back."

"Don't worry about it, I know what he likes. Get back to work before Grissom removes us from the case." Nick replied, "I'll be there in 15."

Sara slid the phone back into her pocket, grabbing her powder and brush once more. Nick was right, Greg could care less what he ate for lunch, as long as it was a warm meal. She began to hum quietly, lifting several prints before moving to the sliding glass door near the back patio.

She was reaching for her tape lift when she heard the faint creaking of a door hinge. Her heart racing, yet again, she looked over her shoulder, the canister of powder she was holding falling to the floor with a soft thud. She brought a hand to her heart as she saw Nick's smiling face in the doorway, several paper bags in his hand.

"You scared me half to death!" Sara exclaimed, "Don't sneak up on me like that, I could shoot you!"

Nick laughed, waving the bag of food, "Don't want to shoot the guy with your lunch, now, do you?" he teased, "Let's go sit in the truck, where it's cool, and eat."

"I'll go get Greg." Sara said with a nod, nudging him with her elbow as she passed by.

Nick was halfway out the front door when he heard Sara's shaky voice call out, "Nick? I...I, uh, need your help in here."

TBC