Just a Quick Stop
Summary: A quick stop at the store proves to be more trouble than Sara and Greg ever expected.
Rating: PG-13, just to be safe
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly enough
A/N: Just a scenario I thought up after a long day ofwork, let me know what you think and if I should continue.
The sun was just setting as the small car pulled in front of the apartment buildings. She didn't have to wait long; he was standing outside, wearing jeans and short sleeve shirt, as well as sunglasses, even though the need wasn't apparent. He climbed in quickly, shutting the door behind him, removing the glasses as he did so.
"Thanks for ride Sara, you helped out big time," Greg told her as she backed the car up.
She nodded, "Not a problem, you're on the way, so it wasn't a biggie."
Greg shrugged, "If the auto shop got things done when they said they would, I wouldn't have this problem."
Sara could only laugh, "Greg," she said, actually turning to him, "If you got a car that worked, you wouldn't have this problem either."
He nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, "True, but where would the adventure be?"
Sara rolled her eyes, glancing over her shoulder as she pulled back into traffic. "Is it okay if we make a quick stop?" she asked, coming to a stop a light.
"Well, you are the one driving," Greg reminded her, "But our shift does start in a few," he stated, tapping the clock on the radio.
"It won't be long," Sara glanced at the time, "Need to pick up some tape for Grissom, forgot to get it last night. Besides that, there's no water bottles left at the lab, Archie stole them all."
Greg laughed, "Yeah, I remember that."
"You should," Sara told him, gripping the steering wheel. "You're the one who provoked him into eating all those packets of hot sauce."
Greg was laughing hard now, wiping away the tears around his eyes, "It was great, wasn't it? I didn't think it was possible for someone to turn beet red from eating hot sauce."
"Yeah," Sara let out a chuckle, "just remember to watch your back."
She told him this as they pulled into the parking lot of a small convience store. They were the only ones there besides the store owner, a young Chinese women, who looked up from cleaning the counters as they came.
"So sorry," she told them, obvious that English wasn't her best of languages, "Closing time."
She pointed to the sign on the door, that hadn't quite made it to the close position, even though it was five past. Greg was already turning to go, but Sara grabbed his arm, stopping him.
"We wont be long," She told her, smiling. This was the last store between here and the lab, and doubling back meant being late. Something she was not willing to do.
The owner seemed unsure at first, biting her lip as she held the cloth in her hands. Finally she nodded, although doubt still showed in her eyes. She was tired, she wanted to go home, but she figured a few more minutes while she cleaned couldn't hurt.
"Hurry," she urged them, going back to washing.
Sara made her way around the isles, snatching first the tape, then going back to the freezer compartments. Reaching to grab a single water bottle, she changed her mind, picking up a case instead, only to stop again to select a different brand. It was on odd habit on her part, she always had to have water with her on cases. Especially now, since Greg was on her team as a CSI, she seemed to do more talking. Go figure, she thought; it wasn't like Greg was the quietest person she knew.
She turned to him, nearly laughing at the look he was giving her. It was a cross between amusement and irritation. "You ready?"
Greg shrugged, his hands were in his pocket. "Sure, unless you want that water instead, it has bubbles on the outside."
She gave him an equal stare, "I don't want bubbles in my water," she told him plainly.
"No bubbles," he said nodding, "got it, you want bunnies, not bubbles."
"I like this kind of water" Sara told him, getting defensive, "besides, the bunnies are cute."
Greg only rolled his eyes as he turned the corner, Sara following shortly after. It was then that she heard it. Gunfire. She had heard gunfire before, but this was different, it was close, much closer than she had ever heard gunfire before.
She reached almost automatically for her gun, dropping the water in the process. She was startled to find it missing, only to curse herself a moment later. Of course it wasn't there; it was back at the lab, in her locker. She didn't carry it with her outside of work, there wasn't a need to.
Sara wasn't sure when the change occurred; one minute she was standing, debating on what she should do. The next, she was on her hands in knees, her head throbbed as the floor on the convenience store seemed to sway, twisting and falling before her eyes.
She thought she heard a scream, a slight struggle; then more gunshots ripped through the air, and it was quiet again.
Stand…she had to stand, had to get out of this place, had to call for help. Even as she struggled to her feet her mind screamed at her to move. But she wasn't in control.
"I said stay down," a voice roared at her from behind.
Sara tried to process the information, wondering if she should listen to the warning, or try something else.
"You best stay down," the voice hissed again, he was standing behind her. She could tell by the direction his voice came from. "If you try anything, your boyfriend gets it," he warned again.
Sara was still on her hands and knees, staring at a small pool of blood on the floor that she could only assume that was hers. Boyfriend?She though solemnly, what boyfriend?
It was only then that she recognized who they were talking about, and a warning screamed in her mind. Greg. What had they done to him? She risked raising her eyes just a little, searching the floor in front of her. She saw no signs of him, he must be around on the other side.
"Down on the floor," the man behind her warned; she could hear him cocking a gun. It sounded like a rifle. She closed her eyes, laughing inwardly with irony. She was way too overworked.
"I said down!" the man yelled now, he was getting to the end of his rope. Still shaking, Sara gently lowered herself to the floor, her head coming to rest in her own blood. She kept her hands out in front of her, at the sides of her head, in position for quick action if opportunity presented itself.
"Good girl," her attacker appraised her, raising Sara's anger a notch. "Stitch, get that rope over here, we have another one."
Her eyes followed the pair of black boots that walked around the isle, until they passed out her line of site. She could hear the new man laughing, knew it was a man by the sound of his voice.
"Bagged ourselves a real trophy here," he nearly sung the phrase out. "With all the loot we have, we could go on a real honeymoon," he added, taking a hold of her hands, bringing them behind her back.
Sara's first thoughts were to fight back. Giving in was the worse thing to do, she had to act now if there was ever a chance. That plus anger coursed through her veins. She was not a trophy, for anything or anyone. However, the simple warning that was given to her before held her still.
She couldn't risk Greg's life on her behalf. She had no way of knowing if Greg was even alive, and if he was, how badly he was hurt. Until then, she would have to play along with her captors.
She almost laughed as the second man yelped as he was cuffed rather harshly. More in likely on the head, she thought.
"What was that for?" he wondered, his voice more pitiful now.
"We're here for the cash, nothing else. If you want to risk taking off with some slut, that's your deal. Don't try it on my time. Besides, these stores don't carry too much anyways, we'll have to hit a few more before we have enough."
Sara was livid, as she struggled against the ropes that were firmly tied around her hands. It did little good and only caused her captors entertainment. The laughed as the second man, she gathered, began to tie her ankles together, restricting her movements even more.
"Come on Stitch, I'm sure she wants to see her boyfriend. They can spend their last moments together. We can even get pictures of them too, this store carries plenty of cameras."
Sara felt sickened, as they drug her to her feet, and it wasn't from the harsh, sudden movement either. She silently cursed herself as they pushed her forward; her late night stop had cost both her and her co-worker dearly. Greg was her friend, and now because of her, they both would die, that was, if Greg wasn't dead already.
Turning the corner, she drew in a sharp gasp at what she saw, barely hearing the laughter of the two men behind her.