Hello CSI and/or Nick and/or Greg fans! I hope you're ready for a whole story of whump cuz that's what I hope to provide!

Just to remind you again, this is absolutely NOT Nick/Greg slash, just friendship 8)

PS-I AM A BETA! If there are any people out there who need a beta, PLZ PM ME!

PPS-this will probably be the longest A/N in this story cuz just about everyone hates these things

Disclaimer: I am not the owner of CSI. Because (as it's been said a million, BAZILLION times before me) if I did, I wouldn't be on fanfiction.

Late August, 2002

Nick hadn't talked to nor seen his one male sibling in ages. Jared and Nick were never really that close of brothers, mainly because they were on opposite ends of the line of age, and the last time they had even talked to each other would have probably been the Stokes family reunion of '91. But there he was, standing at Nick's door with a six pack and ready for brotherly bonding over a football game. Nick had purposefully taken the night off when Jared called him two weeks ago.

"So," Nick began at the commercials. "What have you been doing all this time?"

Jared took a swig of beer. "Well, I stay around Dallas. I'm unemployed at the moment, so I've mostly just been working odd jobs here and there. What about you? You're still with CSI, right? It's all dad talks about."

Nick shifted slightly in his chair. "Well, yeah. I've been with 'em for, what, six years now?"

"Sounds about right," Jared chuckled, leaning back into the couch. "I've heard it's been rough these last few, huh."

Nick moved again and laughed uncomfortably. "Yeah, you could say that. I'm, uh, gonna go get some chips from the kitchen. You want any specific kind?"

"Naw, I'm good."

Nick got up and gratefully started his trek to the kitchen. It seemed that a lot had changed from when they were kids. His once spunky, laughing, brown-haired brother had turned into a salt-and-peppered man that had a strange glint in eye. Awkward as it was, he was looking for reprieve, and chips were the perfect excuse on football night.

Wham! Nick felt a punch to the back of the head and was knocked off balance, staggering away to the left.

He was about to turn around, but was cut off by another strike, this one to the front of the shoulder. By this time Nick was out of breath and in complete disbelief. Why any sort of person want to surprise their kin with a fight was beyond him, but he did know that he was in trouble when he was knocked over after a blow to the gut. Jared quickly jumped on top of him, knife pulled from a back pocket and glinting in the living room light.

"Wha-what are you doing," Nick croaked.

Jared laughed evilly. "You're the CSI. What does it look like I'm doing?" And took the plunge into his brother's stomach.

Nick groaned. There was no way this was happening. He managed to get enough breath to whisper another word. "Why?"

Jared narrowed his eyes, stabbed him again and twisted, making Nick grunt in pain. He didn't remove the blade. "You took everything I lived for the day you were born. You had everything you wanted, whenever you wanted. If I asked the folks for anything more than a couple bucks, they'd tell me that they were saving up for your collage education, and then tell me to get a job."

Nick still couldn't believe it. His brother had to be some kind of psychopath. Jared hated every fiber of his being, and Nick was going to die on his own floor if he didn't do something.

The lunatic previously mentioned finally slid the knife out. Taking his time, Jared slowly wiped it off on his shirt and got up. He seemed satisfied in the way that Nick was incapacitated. As he was getting up, however, Nick was reminded about the cell phone in his pocket.

"I think I might just let you stay there until your friends find ya. You obviously took the night off, which will give you plenty of time to bleed out before your shift tomorrow."

It was true. The growing pool of blood underneath the younger Stokes was getting pretty big. If somebody didn't put any pressure on his wound soon, Nick wasn't going to make it past the hour.

Jared leisurely walked to the kitchen. He had this all planned out. He would go to his hotel in a few minutes, get his bags, and fly to Mexico tonight. Simple and pretty much fool proof. Jared thought about his younger brother in the room over. Did he feel any remorse for Nick? They say it's good to face emotional trauma head on to avoid any problems later in life*… Well, he certainly wasn't feeling bad about anything. In fact, he was happier than he'd been in a while. Nick was about to be out of his hair for good. He wouldn't have to listen to his parents doting on Nick anymore. It really made Jared feel bad for himself. Nick didn't even want any praise. To the Jared's pleasure, he didn't miss the look of discomfort on his younger brother's face. And on top of everything that had happened, Nick seemed like a magnet for trouble. It was best if he were dead.

Back in the living room, Nick was cautiously moving his hand to his pocket. The problem was, if Jared decided to turn around right then, it would be disastrous. No one whose just been stabbed would want to move their hand; they'd want to be as still as possible as it was extremely painful. The only reason would be if it could save their life, which is exactly what Nick was doing. If Jared saw him, he'd be finished for sure. But if the man on the floor could just send a text to Catherine, he could probably make it through this.

Getting his phone out of his pocket was an arduous task. He was shaking so badly because of the blood loss; it was difficult to stay under control. He only sent one word to the elder CSI; "HELP".

Catherine had been doing a bit of paperwork when her phone buzzed. Looking at the sender, she smiled and shook her head. He's supposed to be off today. When she opened the message, though, she froze. "GRISSOM! GET IN HERE!"

Grissom was slightly annoyed with Catherine. She had startled him while he was doing an important experiment with a maggot; his hand had slipped and now the maggot was finished. "What's wrong Catherine," he said with an exasperated sigh when he came into her office.

"It's Nick. He took the night off and then sent me this text," She showed him her phone and Grissom paled. "And I think we should go and then call Brass on the way the way there."

Grissom nodded, still white. He had hoped that Nigel Crane would have been the most of Nick's problems.

Brass peeked into Nick's house from the window. He really felt for the kid. Nick had already been stalked and now from the looks of it he'd just gotten stabbed.

Brass turned to his men. "Okay, we go in silently. Look everywhere. We need to make sure the guy who did this isn't still in the house."

The balding man then looked toward the CSIs who were down the driveway, gesturing to them to stay put and call the ambulance. Boy, did they look agitated. Understandably so, and Brass couldn't argue that he wasn't a little nervous himself.

"Okay, let's move."

Nick was barely coherent enough to hear the door open and multiple feet slip through. Oops. I must have forgotten to lock the door. Oh well. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. Nick didn't even know how he had managed to stay awake this long…wait, how long had it been? It couldn't have been more than ten minutes, because otherwise Jared would have left by now. It wouldn't be smart to stay at the house for more than half an hour, and his brother knew that.

It definitely didn't feel like ten minutes, though; the pain was so overwhelming that time seemed to loiter along, making seconds feel like minutes and minutes like hours. Inwardly he sighed. He really didn't like this situation.

*this concept was taken from the sixth book of Artemis Fowl. Said by Dr. Kronski.

OKAY! I hope you guys liked this chapter cuz I already have the next one and hope to send it out into cyberspace soon. But, because I didn't write a cliffhanger, I don't expect to get many reviews (I hope you guys can prove me wrong by the way). Anywho (anyhoo?), this is CherryBerryB, signing off 8)