Life or Death
The first thing he noticed when he woke was the barren floor. It was concrete and stained with motor oil, though how it got there he had no idea. The second thing he noticed was his position in the room; in the middle, hands and feet tied. His vest was dirty, clouding the white CSI letters a bit and he was in the clothes he had been in yesterday. The next question on his mind was obvious: where in the hell is he? Just as he was set to ponder this a bit longer a door he hadn't noticed before creaked open; quite ominously in Greg's opinion. He turned his head stiffly to the door as someone, a hulking someone came in.
The man probably wasn't as tall as say, Nick or as lean as Warrick; somewhere in between would be Greg's guess. A rather intricate tattoo graced the man's slightly muscled right forearm. Why in the world would he leave his arms bare unless…oh no he wasn't planning on Greg living through this. The ex-lab rat wasn't sure how he felt about this quite yet; he had already had so many near-death experiences…surfing accident in California when he was a teen, the lab explosion, and of course the brutal beating by those punks. He was shaken out of his reverie by the man's hand striking him in the face. Greg glared at his captor and spat a glob of blood on the floor.
"What is it you want with me?" he asked. That's it Greggo, get straight to the meat of the matter, a voice, which sounded suspiciously like Nick, whispered in the depths of his mind. Man he surely hoped he was going crazy, not this soon anyway. The man laughed a harsh cruel sound that reverberated across the room. "I want simply to observe you, shall we say. I've been watching all the members of the CSI nightshift and you, Gregory Sanders intrigued me the most." Greg shuddered at the words and tone of his captor. "Now in a moment or so your friends should be receiving a live feed to this very room. You can tell them nothing about where you are, what I look like, or my reason for kidnapping you. The one thing you can say is the last words they'll ever hear."
With that the man left the room and Greg took his time looking around. Then a little red light caught his attention. It was in the far corner of the left side of the room. 'This must be the live feed. Well better say something I suppose.' As he started to speak the door opened again. His captor strode in but stayed where the red dot, the camera couldn't see him. He motion for Greg to start speaking and the young CSI knew he wanted to see what his victim would say. Greg's voice was low and rough from lack of water and his throat was dry but he knew he had to say something, anything.
"First off, I want to apologize to my parents for this being the last time they 'see' me. I hope I was a good son. Mom, you have taught me so many things like to go after what you really want. Dad, you taught me that just because something seems one way doesn't mean it is. Thank you for all your love and support, don't mourn for me 'cause I'll be up there with Papa Olaf watching you. To Grissom, you might not have been the easiest person to get along with but I would like to say you are an awesome boss. Oh and one more thing; tell Sara how you feel. Ah Sara…what can I say to you. Well I've always considered you a big sister and the only thing I want for you is happiness, so do everyone a favor and kiss ole Grissom senseless like I know you want to. Warrick, thanks for being there even if the advice and conversations didn't come easy. I'm glad I told you how I felt about that certain someone 'cause you've given me the courage to tell them how I feel. And lastly Nick….there are so many things I want to say but one thing I need to…..I love you. I've loved you since I met you but didn't realize it till you were buried alive. That was the time I surely thought I'd lose you, even if you only see me as a friend. So, yeah that's what I needed to say…goodbye Nicky."
The live feed shut off and Greg realized he had tears streaming down his face. When had the tears started? His captor laughed gruffly and said "Now that you've said your peace…" The young man's eyes grew wide as the deranged man pulled out a switchblade. Ripping a piece of Greg's shirt, the man carved into the flesh of Greg's arm, causing him to hiss in pain. "If you squirm," the man whispered, "This goes slower and slower." At this Greg simply shut his eyes, willing himself to a happier time. The only memory that came to him was one of Nick. They were at the diner they normally went to and they were laughing at something Warrick said. Well Greg was more focused on the sexy as hell Texan in front of him than anything else.
The memory faded as he felt his arm bleed a little more. The haze of pain blocked out everything but was lifted when his torturer stepped away and left the room. The red light flicker on again but this time Greg had no words to say; everything had been said that was of any remote importance. Greg knew, somewhere in the back of his mind that the team was watching this, or maybe only a few were. Hopefully some were on their way…Greg had lost all track of time. He could have been in here for hours or days even and he wouldn't know.
He didn't even know he had slept until a harsh voice yelled at him to wake up and a hand collided with his face, again. Greg sighed and roused himself as best he could. Today, whatever day it was, was the day. The day either he would be found dead or alive. He knew, somehow, that this was it. Strangely he was more than ready to face his fate. Death held no fear for him; after all he had been through.
The red light was on again. This time Greg had words or lyrics, rather in mind. He began to sing, knowing this might be the last thing he did. "Send away for a priceless gift, one not subtle one not on the list. Send away for a perfect world one not simply so absurd." Then he changed to the opening of the chorus because it fit the situation best. Tears rolled down his pale, sunken face as he sang. "Whatever happened to the young man's heart? Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart. And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45, swimming thru the ashes of another life, no real reason to accept the way things have changed, staring down the barrel of a 45."*
The light shut off again and he felt more pain. Back into the secluded corner of his mind he went, trying in vain to ignore everything but his memories. He was unsure of how much time had passed. He had gone so deep in his own head that he was dead to the world. Then a sound shook him back to present. It was the sound of feet above him and anxious, familiar voices. His captor burst into the holding room and coming over to Greg, held the blade at his throat. Relief flashed on Greg's face as in came Warrick, Grissom, and Sara. They came with slow measured steps so not to alarm either man. Greg felt his breath shorten and he knew he was about to be in the midst of a panic attack. The blade dug deeper into his throat, cutting it. He bit his lip to hold in the whimper. Sara's warm eyes filled with tears as she took in Greg's expression.
It was Grissom, calm rational Grissom who spoke up. "You really ought to let him go. What use is he to you? I get it you've had your sick fun now kindly release my CSI." Greg's captor growled and dug ever deeper causing Greg to whimper again in pain. "Now why in the world would I do that? I would lose my entertainment. I've quite enjoyed his tearful goodbyes to you all; especially to Nick. If I had known how Greg here felt about him I would have got him too. But oh well, once I finish surfer boy here off I'll find his precious Texan." Greg narrowed his eyes at this and snarled slightly at the thought of his crush in any kid of danger. The hand not holding the knife backhanded Greg causing his head to snap to one side and the blade to cut deeper than ever. Greg knew he would die; it was inevitable. He would gladly die if it meant Nick's safety.
He didn't however expect for something like what happened next to happen. Somehow one of the three CSI's had called for backup because the very person Greg wanted and dreaded seeing came hurling through the doorway trailed by Catherine and Brass. All three had guns drawn and fierce expressions on their faces. Greg closed his eyes in a mix of relief and remorse. The fact there were six people with guns in the room was the good part. The bad part was that one of those people was the person Greg professed his love to and he wasn't so sure Nick would reciprocate. He may never get the chance now. Greg schooled his features into a mask of numbness. He didn't want to die with an expression of shock or pain on his face. Slowly his mouth stretched into a smile as he waited for death to take him.
It never came; the next thing he knew, his captor was 'cuffed and led out of the room by Brass and Warrick. Greg felt tears flow down his face, mixing with the wound on his neck and stinging the bruise on his cheek. His bonds were cut and he was helped, shakily to his feet. He took a step and fell to the concrete floor before a strong arm lifted him up and supported him. He knew who this was just by the physique. Grissom was talking in low tones to him and Sara was wiping his eyes, face and neck but all Greg knew was arm around his waist and the four whispered words in his ear. "I love you too."
AN: Hope you all enjoyed this fan fic. It's my first CSI fan fiction so…anyhoo, ah yes the *. The lyrics are form Shinedown's '45' which I listen to while writing this. After like two hours it's finally done. Yay! c-ya.-GreeneyedAlice91