"One last thing," said Mozell. "Due to all those prickly issues about state lines and what not, I left my gun back in Texas. I want another one."

"Unacceptable," said Donaldson promptly.

"A five syllable word for 'the government is afraid you might screw up and you, or your survivors, will sue'. I didn't say I want a gun--I said I need a gun. There's a freaking psychopathic seriel killer stalking me, Donny. I've agreed to work with you on this, but I damn sure don't want to be staked out like a goat in a tiger trap."

"If you'd already had your own weapon it might have been allowable. But you're an untrained civilian. You haven't been schooled in how to determine threats."

"If they try to break into the house they get shot. Simple." He scowled, rubbing his face. "Oh, come on! We're going to be brand new in the neighborhood. The only reasonable excuse for breaking into a house would be screams or flames. You know that. I promise you that if there's a fire consuming the house I won't shoot anyone carrying a hose or an axe. Wait... No, none of the victims where chopped, so that's probably a safe rule."

"I'm actually starting to 'get' your humor--and that frightens me. I tell you what I'll do. I'll make a request right now. Surely they'll approve, and I'll try to expidite it. Why are you making that face?"

"You're assuming that the government is going to act in a reasonable and timely manner. How long have you been with the feds, anyway?"

He rubbed his eyes. "You're going to have Sanders keeping watch over you like a mother bear, and there will be two armed and trained agents or policemen within sight and screaming distance."

"Peace and joy."

"God, you're sarcastic."

"I live for it." She sighed. "I guess that's the best I can expect." She'd been sitting at her desk. Now she pushed away. "Let me through, gents. I need to visit the facilities before we leave." When Greg started to follow, she held up her hand. "I'm going in the ladies room, Greg. If the rank and file cops found out you'd accompanied me, you'd never hear the end of it.

She went down to the ladies room, while the other CSIs started discussing things with the FBI agents. Nick, standing on the edge of the group, hesitated, then drifted down the corridor and around the corner toward the restrooms. As he came near the women's room he heard hollow metalic banging, and muffled swearing. He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and waited.

Silence fell. There was the sound of water running, and a moment later Mozell came out. Her curly hair was even wilder than usual, and her face was pink and damp. She hesitated when she saw him, and eyed him shrewdly. "Long line in the men's room?"

"I think that's the most swearing one of ladies' rooms has seen," said Nick, "since the time a couple of women who definitely were not ladies had a dispute over the man that they both thought they were supporting alone."

"A police station--the next best thing to Jerry Springer. Sorry if I singed your ears."

"If anyone ever had a right to, you do." He paused, then looked her in the eye. "About that gun--I can get you one, if you really need it." He smiled charmingly. "I'm a Texas boy, so I have a spare."

She returned his smile. "God bless all good Texas boys. But that gun is registered, isn't it?"

"Ye-es."

She shook her head. "No, Nick. You know that I've been officially forbidden to have a firearm. They'd trace it back to you. If anything happened--and there's a damn good chance it will--the fallout for you would probably end your career." She patted his arm. "I wouldn't want that to happen, especially since you've shown that you care enough to take the risk."

"I can't make you, but I'm going to be worried about you."

"Thanks. I think I'll be all right. If that bastard comes to call, one of you fine lawmen will probably get him before he gets within sniffing distance of me. If you don't, Greg will chew him to pieces, and if Greg can't stop him," she smiled sharply. "Well, he might think he knows me, but it's hard to REALLY know someone."

Special Agent Donaldson met with Ecklie to finalize the details of the safe house. Mozell had observed her co-workers' attitude toward Ecklie, and had come to the conclusion that if that many people consistantly thought you were a jackass, it was probably the truth. She'd managed to avoid him thus far, and suggested that now would be a good time to go get her things.

Special Agent Clark accompanied Greg and Mozell home. First they went by Greg's place. They were only there a few minutes while he quickly packed a suitcase, grabbing clothes and toilet articles. He caught her hovering over his computer, staring at it as if she were afraid it might bite. He pulled her away from it, and she muttered, "If I needed any other reason to hate this asshole, he's made me nervous to use the Internet. He's violated one of the greatest pleasures of my life."

Next they went to Mozell's house. She wanted to go in by herself, neither Greg or Clark were going to allow that. "Lord almighty," she growled. "Male united pigheadedness! I'm going to be grabbing underwear and other intimate things, and I don't want you two looking over my shoulder." Clark started to say something, and she said, "I don't even want you in the next room."

They compromised. Clark went in and did a sweep of the house, making sure all doors and windows were locked, while Greg stayed outside with her. She spent the time teasing him about being her watchdog, wondering if he was a Golden Retriever from the color of his hair, or possibly a sheepdog from the messiness. He asked her if she was hinting at something by assigning him a canine nature--possibly a potential choice of positions? She woofed at him. With this evidence that she'd gotten over her edgy moment with the computer, he felt fairly comfortable about letting her go into the house alone.

She was in the house for close to fifteeen minutes. The men were about to go in after her when she came out lugging a large sports equipment bag. When they stared she said, "Shut up. Do you have any idea how much stuff you can pack in one of these? Besides, it isn't as if I'm trying to impress anyone with my prestigious luggage."

"You don't need me to help you carry your computer?" Greg asked.

She shifted the bag onto one arm and reached into her purse. She pulled out a plastic baggie and showed Greg the contents. "I didn't want to risk damaging anything by hauling it around more than I had to. I have the essentials--hard drive. I'll just slip it into the laptop I brought from the office." She cuddled the baggie to her bosum, crooning, "This is my bay-bee. It has copies of all my finished stories and works in progress."

"And you aren't afraid that it might be damaged in transit?" said Clark.

"Oh, I have it all on back up disks tucked safely in my desk. Well, let's go. I'm interested to see what the FBI and the Las Vegas PD can agree on as 'safe'."

It turned out to be in a neighborhood that was a little seedier than her own. "The neighbors ask fewer questions," Clark explained as they parked on the street in front of the house. "And they tend to keep to themselves unless you've been living there for some time. There are no trees or bushes close to the safe house--very little concealment. The best part is that we got the house right across the street as well, so there will be a clear line of sight."

"Suppose some of the neighbors are actually friendly?" said Greg. "What do we tell them?"

"We don't need to make anything up," said Mozell. "I work at home, you work in a lab, and we're living in sin together. Just your typical American family. It's meatloaf on Thursdays, chicken on Sunday time."

"June Cleaver was never like you, Mozell," said Clark wryly.

"Well, he deals with blood on a regular basis and I write smut, but other than that..."

"The house was checked, and Agent Donaldson has been keeping watch on it from across the street. You two go on in. I'm going to drive around a little while, in case anyone is watching, then go to the other house. If we're under surveilance I'll just look like a friendly neighbor, helping the new couple move in."

As he drove off Mozell said, "If only it were that easy to find help whenever you needed to move."

"And the ones who will help always seem to drive compact cars." Mozell had deposited her sports bag by her feet, and Greg leaned over, picking it up. "Oof! Damn, woman. Did you pack bricks?"

"Give me that." She took it away from him. "Just a few coding and design text books, and no one said you had to carry it. I'm perfectly capable of humping my own luggage."

She started toward the house. There was a faintly serious, slightly irritated edge to Greg's voice as he called, "All right. Be an uppitty, independent wench."

She paused at the door, looking back at him, and said. "Thank you so much for the permission."

His shoulders slumped, and he quickly followed her into the house. "Mo, I..."

She'd gone into the bedroom. When he started to follow her she said sharply, "Stay out there for a minute."

*Oh, crap. I have to wait till now, when things are so dicey, to finally start to irritate her.* Mozell came back out and Greg said quickly, "Look, I'm sorry."

She walked over to him, grabbed his ears, and kissed him. "What for?"

"Uh... For calling you..."

"But sweetheart, I AM an uppity, independent wench. I've never denied it. You said it in a much less offensive manner than some people do. The term 'bitch' has been used more than once, and that's one of the nicer ones."

He blew out a breath of relief. "I thought we were having our first fight."

She laughed. "Greggy, when we have our first fight you won't have to analyze it--you'll know."

"I thought you were mad at me, since you didn't want me in the room with you."

She put a hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow at him. "As much as I adore you, darlin', there are just times when a person needs a moment or two to herself. Let's go raid the kitchen... Wait. We live here." She made her voice bright and artificial. "Come, significant other. Let's go review our very own, legitimately purchased food stuffs, like any other normal, healthy, totally unsuspecting couple." She looped an arm through his and they started for the kitchen. "And don't worry about me acting that phony in public. I usually only do it for comic effect, but I'm actually a much better liar than that. The things I can say with a straight face..."