A/N: Happy Summer! Glad that I finally have time to return to fanfiction (I have so many stories to catch up on!) This story has been rattling around in my brain for several months now, and I feel it is time to send it out there for review...I expect it to be several chapters long, and I will publish weekly if not sooner...cliffhangers for the first few chapters, so be prepared...my promise to keep my committment to GSR, but it will take them a while to get there...reviews are welcome, and help steer the direction of the story...this story is darker than my other work...hope you will join me for another crazy ride with our favorite CSIs... -Kathy
--------------
The glare of his blue light cut through the darkness enveloping his way to her.
Foot slamming on the accelerator, he felt the car thrust forward in speeds almost matching his racing heartbeat.
Sara.
Grissom tried to still his worry, tried to focus on the off-road path that led deep into the thicket, tried to remove those words from his memory – replaying in a cacophony of voices:
Brass' insistence that he "get here ASAP…and Gil…it's - Sara…"
His inner voice interrupting any further understanding as his turmoil took charge of his senses…
His actual voice barking at his friend for more information, "Tell me! Jim! What's happened to Sara? WHAT HAPPENED TO SARA!?"
His frustration mounted as Brass must have moved away from his location, causing the transmission to become static in seconds.
My Sara.
God, let her be alright.
Grissom shook with emotion, his dust trail almost enveloping the Denali as he turned off into a hollow that was decorated with the multicolored hues of flashers on the parked police vehicles and an ambulance.
Almost forgetting to come to a full stop before attempting to jam the stick shift into park, the dashboard lights screamed and the transmission groaned its disapproval, causing Gil to undo his action and wait the interminably-long added seconds before the car was prepared for shut-off.
Racing down the grassy terrain, Gil was at Brass' side within seconds, placing his arm decisively on the older man's shoulder to twist him into view.
"Where is she?" he gasped, slightly winded but his voice tight with anxiety.
Before Brass could respond, they were distracted by the sounds of Nick's protests from the ambulance bay.
"No! Don't worry about this! Get in there! DO SOMETHING! God…SARA!"
Grissom reached the open doors first, wincing as he saw Nick fighting with the paramedic who was trying to stabilize his leg, the suspected fracture obvious due to the awkward positioning of his ankle at rest.
"Nick!" Grissom yelled over the fray. There was instant silence.
Nick leaned back against the small pillow on the gurney. He made no attempts to hide his tears.
Glancing at the grateful EMT, the man continued to swiftly immobilize Nick's lower leg as the injured CSI just kept repeating, "Sara…god, Sara…I'm…sorry…"
"Nick!" Grissom tried again, as he hoisted himself up into the ambulance bay, squatting uncomfortably in the cramped space opposite the working paramedic.
"Nick, you're hurt…lie still and let them help you."
As an afterthought, Grissom lay his hand on Nick's wrist as his anger began to build that someone would hurt this talented young man anyone would be proud to call Son.
The medic worked quickly, lest the interim cooperation end as quickly as it began.
He injected a mild sedative to the IV line, and Grissom watched as seconds later the effects were becoming noticeable as Nick breathed a bit deeper and his shoulders seemed to relax a bit.
"Nick," Grissom began and smiled slightly as his coworker's head shifted to meet Gil's questioning eyes.
"Nick, where is Sara? What happened to her?" Grissom asked gently, all the while that the pounding of his anxious heart was almost audible in the close quarters of the ambulance.
Tears began to flow again, as Nick's agitation returned.
"We never saw him, Griss! I was just closing up my kit, and she was standing by the window…" Nick's voice trembled as he gulped, the pain of the events evident in his trembling lips.
"I turned to collect the samples, and I saw this shadow…I saw it just before I heard Sara scream-" Nick stopped, clenching his eyes closed as his emotions overwhelming him.
"Nick! What. About. Sara?" Grissom demanded, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.
Nick was crying now.
"I called for her, and turned to see what was happening…that's when I felt my leg get kicked out from under me…I grabbed my leg in pain just as I fell to the floor…even then, I twisted my head around, calling for her again and again…but she was gone from the room!"
"Relax, Nick…just try to relax," the paramedic tried to calm him, his eyes worriedly scanning the blood pressure readout.
"Easy, Nick," Grissom spoke as he rubbed the area around Nick's lower arm.
"Take it easy?! Griss, whoever did this to me has Sara. I heard her moaning from the other room downstairs…it made me sick to know she was being hurt and I couldn't get to her –" Nick had to stop, beginning to hyperventilate as his guilt became harder to bear.
"Nick-" Gil began, but the injured man just continued to ramble.
"She's in there with some madman…he's going to hurt her Griss…I must have passed out or something…I almost remember this smell, sickly sweet –"
"Chloroform?" Gil suggested quickly, but Nick was losing his concentration too quickly now to be a reliable witness.
"He's got her…I don't know why he let me go…I don't know why he would ever want to hurt her…Sara…Sa...ra!" Nick's words began to slur at the end, until finally the medication placed him in a light sleep.
"He'll rest now," the paramedic offered at the concern in Gil's eyes.
"Where are you taking him?" Grissom asked softly, the images from Nick's account swimming around his head painfully.
"Desert Palms," was the quick reply, and Grissom noted that his presence in the ambulance was delaying their departure.
With one last look at Nick, Grissom nodded to the EMT and hopped down from the vehicle, helping to secure the doors before he stood watching it leave the scene.
The next moment, Gil found himself running back to the command station where Brass was ending a call.
"What are you doing to get Sara out of there?" Grissom demanded, bent on going in there himself if he had to.
"SWAT is two minutes out, so we sit and wait," Brass answered, clearly unhappy with the situation.
Swallowing a retort, Grissom pulled a deep breath, and then tried unsuccessfully to mask his anger demanding, "How did this happen? Wasn't the scene secure? Where was the officer on watch?"
Brass steamed, "Apparently, there was not a full search of the house as the officer felt there was no indication it had been inhabited.
When Sara and Nick arrived, the officer –" Brass chewed his lip, obviously trying to calm himself before continuing, "the officer took it upon himself to go back to the squad car to make dinner arrangements for his girlfriend's birthday tomorrow night."
Gil's reaction was no surprise.
But the quiet tone of his response made the seasoned detective's hair stand on edge.
"Where. Is. He."
Pulling himself face-to-face with Grissom, Brass smiled and said softly, "Whoa, cowboy. I've got that scene covered."
Gil was not to be put off.
"I mean it, Jim. I want to see him."
Brass shook his head again, using his standard good-guy routine to try to diffuse the situation.
"No can do, buddy. Listen, concentrate on helping Sara here, okay Gil? She's the one who needs our attention now. We'll deal with this loser later, what do you say?"
Although Gil's anger was off the scale, he couldn't disagree with Brass on this point.
Sighing deeply in an effort to maintain control, he looked at the small two-story vacation home which had seen better days.
"How long?" Gil asked, worriedly.
"About a half hour since I got here, and about fifteen minutes since we've heard any sounds."
"Why not just storm in?" Grissom asked, knowing that tactic was always a last resort in a hostage situation, but feeling the need for someone to do something.
"Gil-" Brass spoke on an inhale before continuing, "can you see that clearing over there?"
Glancing past the side yard, Grissom could see the remnants of what looked like a small bonfire which had engulfed a detached garage, and now was just about burning itself out.
"That's what greeted us when we arrived," the detective spoke with angry emotion.
Grissom turned in shock, "Incendiary device?"
Brass shrugged, "Homemade fire bomb, most likely."
Gil didn't like the sound of that.
They had been working on several unsolved arsons in the last two months, each one credited to being started with a homemade fire bomb, each bomb of increasing sophistication.
"He could blow them sky high! Jim-" Grissom spoke more urgently, "we have to get Sara out of there!"
Brass blew out through pursed lips.
"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I want nothing better than to go down there and break the damn door down?
You weren't here when we found Nick after we arrived. Thank God he was unconscious at the time!
The guy had opened the door and dumped his body in a heap, and had kicked him down the steps like a soccer ball!
His leg is definitely broken in at least two places…we're dealing with a sadistic hardass here, Gil, and-"
Brass turned away from Gil and stepped forward to compose himself.
Grissom wouldn't be dissuaded.
He swung Brass around to face him before barking, "What else, Jim? What else do you know?"
"The first officer on the scene was sure he heard a woman screaming as he first got out of the car, but then there was only silence…Gil," he added in a softer tone, "I haven't heard anything from Sara since I've been here."
Grissom's features hardened as his head whipped towards the house.
"I'm going down there. I am not just going to stand around and wait here while Sara may be-"
"You aren't going anywhere, pal. I mean it. I'll put you in handcuffs in a cruiser if I have to!" Brass insisted, knowing what Gil was capable of.
Placing a restraining hand on his friend's shoulder, Brass tried to calm them both.
"Gil, listen, she's going to need you when we get her out of there," Brass spoke wisely, hoping to garner Gil's attention. "Don't do anything stupid."
At this, Grissom lost his composure altogether. With tears glistening in his eyes, he turned to face Brass.
"That's my problem, Jim. I don't ever do anything stupid.
All these years. I didn't do anything stupid.
Me. Gil Grissom. Mr. Follow The Rules. Mr. Play It Safe."
Brass' eyes widened at this unguarded side of Grissom now on display before him.
And did this "confession" really admit what I think he's trying to say?
Gil scoffed, shaking his head sadly.
"I told Lurie I couldn't do it. I couldn't just come out and tell her-" Gil struggled to keep the strangled sob from being released, "- that she is the most important person in the world to me."
His foot kicked at imaginary stones as he continued, lowering his gaze, and his tone until it was barely audible.
"I love her…and I've never told her."
Brass remained quiet. He knew Gil had feelings for Sara that he had kept to himself for years.
But he never expected Grissom would ever admit them to himself, let alone share his pain with another person.
"And now…it may just be too late." Gil sighed at those words, reminiscent of the end of a conversation he and Sara had a very long time ago.
The rustle of uniforms in the clearing signaled the arrival of the SWAT team.
Brass' walkie-talkie crackled as the lead officer signaled for instructions.
"Get in position. Wait for my signal."
"What are you going to do?" Grissom asked worriedly.
"They're going to call for the perp to bring Sara out within five minutes, or face us coming in," Brass said in manner so matter-of-fact that it made Grissom cringe.
Suddenly, a bullhorn sounded from the wooded area near the house, demanding the release of the hostage.
Within another minute, the call was repeated with only four minutes left.
Brass' brow scrunched as there still remained no response from the crime scene.
Worried displayed itself across his brow as Gil's sole focus remained on the wooded area behind the house as the three minute call was sounded.
That focus was replaced a minute later as two figures emerged into the shadows inside the house near the first floor windows.
Grissom's heart sank as he saw a large man in a ski mask holding Sara roughly around the neck, her arms pinned behind her.
Seeing the man holding his hostage before him, Brass muttered, "Oh, no," at the sight of a partially disrobed Sara through the binoculars he used to get more detail from this crime scene.
Even without the use of binoculars, Grissom's eyes were sharp enough to see Sara's shirt hanging in shreds from her upper body, to his trained eye their position negating the presence of undergarments.
Seething, Brass' hand was all that was stopping Gil from tearing down there and beating this maniac to within an inch of his life.
He had hurt her.
That maniac had hurt my Sara.
Recalling what little Sara had shared about her childhood, Gil panicked about the effect this event must be having on her emotional stability.
Grabbing the binoculars, Gil adjusted them for maximum intensity on Sara's face.
Using his knowledge of previous crime scenes, Gil began to take inventory.
Her lovely hair was unruly, and falling suspiciously over her damp forehead. Was that perspiration, or was it – blood?
Her porcelain face was slightly swollen, one side almost markedly so. Had she been slapped with a hard object? Perhaps the side of a pistol?
Her eyes looked distant, almost unseeing. Had she been drugged? Had she simply retreated to an internal hiding place, to stop from having to deal with the new horror?
Before he could consider any further, the SWAT commander was giving the "last chance" speech.
That's when he saw it.
From his vantage point, Gil grabbed the binoculars in time to see the masked man pulling a clear bottle from his jacket pocket.
To his horror, all Gil could do was watch in disbelief as the kidnapper moved away from the SWAT team's vantage point and quickly doused himself thoroughly with the liquid.
Gil watched Sara squirm as the man clutched her closer to himself, pouring the liquid over the edges of her shirt hanging in messy ribbons on the front of her body, all without the SWAT team realizing what had been happening.
Instantly upon calling Brass' name in alarm and before Gil could alert him to what he had seen, there was a volley of gunshots that ripped through the back of the house.
Hitting their target, the suspect burst into bright flames and fell to the ground, releasing Sara as he rolled across the hardwood surface while his screams filled the night air.
Gil watched in horror as Sara's clothing instantly ignited due to her close proximity to her assailant.
Her own cries began echoing through the stillness as she dropped from view to the floor, hands still bound behind her as she rolled in agony in an attempt to squelch the flames.