Character Death

Chapter 6

"Are you okay?" Sara called to Greg, her voice cracking.

He gave a tight-lipped grin. "Yeah, fine."

She nodded in response, trying to hold it together. It wouldn't do to fall apart now. Yes, he just looked as pale as Nick and Brass did, and yes, he had a matching gunshot wound. But unlike them, he was still breathing, still smiling, and so she needed to focus. For him.

"Greg, what the hell were you thinking, voting for yourself?" Grissom burst out, watching him worriedly.

"I didn't want to be the one to break the tie." Greg grimaced, shifting to find a more comfortable position.

"But how could you have known it would be a tie?"

"Simple," came the sighed response. "I knew that you and Warrick would both vote for Sara. I knew Sofia would vote for herself. And I knew Sara - Miss Protector of the Underdogs - would vote for Sofia."

Grissom turned to Sara, aghast. "You voted against yourself?"

"Well, I-"

"Don't ever do that again. Ever."

She frowned. "I can do whatever I damn well-"

"No," he said, his eyes ablaze. "No, you can't. Not unless your goal is to put a bullet in my chest, too."

Her gaze softened at once. "Oh, honey, I didn't mean-"

"Geez," Greg muttered. "I take a bullet for her, but he's the one who gets to be her honey."

"We've got to get out of here," Grissom said, looking tormented. "Any one of us could be next. And Greg needs medical attention, as soon as possible."

"I'm fine, really," Greg said, flashing a weak but charming grin.

"Greg, you've been shot"

"No I haven't! 'Tis a flesh wound!"

Sara looked at him entreatingly. "Greg, seriously, we need to get you to a hospital. Before Crete comes back and finishes the job."

"The problem is these freaking alarms," Warrick said. "The second we make a move, he'll know it."

Grissom thought for a moment. "Everyone check your restraints," he instructed. "See if you can wriggle your way out."

They all struggled with their bonds, while Greg watched, looking amused. He cleared his throat. "So this pirate walks into a bar-"

"Not now, Greg."

"Grissom, I'm on my deathbed here. I've got to impart my wisdom onto you all before I pass into the afterlife."

"You're not on your deathbed," Grissom said, glaring at him.

"Anyway, this pirate walks into a bar, and he's got a steering wheel stuck down the front of his pants. All the guys in the bar are staring at him, and finally the bartender gets up the nerve to go over and ask him, Why's there a steering wheel in your pants? And the pirate looks at the bartender and says I dunno, matey, but it's drivin' me nuts. "

"Any luck loosening your restraints?" Grissom asked the others, pointedly ignoring Greg.

"That was the wisdom he wanted to pass on?" Sara muttered under her breath, as she twisted her arms in vain.

"I'm a veritable encyclopedia of off-color jokes," Greg boasted. "Seriously. Like, a one-balled man walks into a bar-"

"Greg." Grissom used his best don't-argue-with-me tone. "Whether or not you want to admit it, you're seriously injured. We need to come up with a plan to get you out of here."

They all sat there, deep in thought.

"Well it's based on weight, right?" Sofia asked finally. "The alarm, I mean."

"Yeah, that's what Crete said," Grissom replied.

"And it goes off if the weight on the seat decreases. But if it increases, that should be okay."

"Okay..."

"So if we can find something heavier than we are, we can put it on our seats and the weight won't be affected. We can just walk away."

Sara frowned. "Yeah, but how can we walk away when we're all still tied to the chairs?"

Sofia opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. "Oh. Right."

"Hey guys," Greg called.

"No," Grissom said firmly. "We don't want to hear about the one-balled man."

"Give me some credit, Grissom. I was just about to remind you that a certain person in this room no longer has a chair alarm. Crete switched mine off, remember?"

"No way," Warrick said, shaking his head. "If Crete comes bursting back in here, you've got to be in the same place so you can play dead. Otherwise he'll shoot you again. And this time, he'll aim better."

"Yeah, but what if when he comes back, we've already broken out, and there's a bunch of heavy crap on your seats to fool the weight-o-meter, and we're off having drinks at Houlihans?"

Sara considered it for a moment. "Can you untie yourself?"

Drawing in a shaky breath, Greg wrestled with his bonds. Finally he stopped, squeezing his eyes shut in agony.

"That settles that," Grissom said firmly. "We'll have to figure out a way to overtake Crete. The four of us."

"Well, we can't exactly... hop at him," Sofia said. "He'd pick us off in three seconds flat."

They listened to voices shouting down the hallway. It seemed a world away.

"Hang on," Sara said suddenly. "What sort of revolver is he carrying?"

They glanced at each other.

"I didn't notice," Grissom admitted.

"It's a Mateba," Sofia said.

"You're sure?"

"Pretty sure, why?"

"Well, Mateba autorevolvers hold either six or seven cartridges," Sara said. "And he's already fired six shots in here. So..."

"So it's possible, if he hasn't reloaded, he only has one bullet left," Warrick finished, his eyes wide. "Or none at all."

"So I'll draw his fire," Greg said, "and you guys can hop out when he runs out of ammo."

Grissom sighed. "You're not going to let up until you're a martyr, are you?"

"Can you blame me? Martyrs get all the babes." He shifted again with a grimace, then gave a wan grin. "Speaking of which, I keep meaning to ask you, what's sex with Sara like?"

"What?" Sara yelped.

"Greg..." Grissom felt a migraine coming on.

"Come on, grant a guy his dying wish."

"The only way you're dying is if we don't figure a way out of here," Grissom replied, checking the walls for any sharp protrusions.

"I always imagined she'd be really handsy in bed-"

"Greg!" Sara's face was beet-red.

"Fine," Grissom intoned, rolling his eyes at Greg. "She's amazing in bed and she's always calling out your name accidentally. Is that what you're looking to hear?"

"Oh yeah." Greg closed his eyes, his pale face beaming. "I totally knew it."

Sofia shook her head, trying not to laugh.

"All right," Warrick said. "Let's say Crete's got one round left in the chamber. If we all rush him at once - everyone but Loverboy over there - then the worst that can possibly happen is that one of us gets shot."

"That's pretty bad," Sara grimaced.

"Yeah, but what's the alternative? Sit in here with a pen in our mouths, writing each other's names until nobody's left?"

She cocked her head in acknowledgement. "But if we all get up to rush him, he'll know something's up when he hears the alarms."

"He'll know something's up," Grissom said thoughtfully, "but he might think someone just tottered in their chair a little. If we can move quickly... hop to a location where he doesn't expect us to be... we could have the element of surprise."

"It would be the only element in our favor," Sofia said. "Would it be enough, though?"

They looked at each other, indecision written across each of their faces.

"I can't think of anything else," Warrick said finally, staring at the ground. His voice was unnaturally quiet. "And time's running out."

"There's a chance we're risking it all for nothing," Sofia pointed out. "There's police officers out there right now, trying to get to us. Maybe if we wait just a bit longer-"

"If we wait a bit longer," Sara argued, "Greg could get worse."

Grissom's eyes met Warrick's anguished expression, and his heart sank.

"But if we do this, we're doing a disservice to the cops that are out there," Sofia retorted. "They're putting their lives on the line for us-"

"Guys," Warrick murmured.

"I'm not talking about their lives," Sara said hotly. "I'm talking about Greg's, because he-"

"Sara," Grissom said finally.

And she knew, then. Knew from the tone of his voice, and the sudden silence in the room.

She knew even before she looked up and saw Greg's body.