A/N: Okay so here is the next chapter. You can expect double updates on Tuesdays because my Wensdays are booked and I just can't make you people suffer. But I perfectly capable of making Greg, and his many friends suffer. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 4

Nick paced. He'd been pacing. He was still pacing. He would still be pacing for a long time. He was waiting. Waiting for the results. He paced in circles around a nameless lab tech. It should have been Greg. It should have been Greg he was circling, but it wasn't, couldn't be. He had gone home earlier, for a while. He'd taken a shower, got hopped up on headache medicine while examining the bruises on his back and leg. They were somewhat serious, but he wasn't telling anybody. He would make sure they didn't impede with his work. He had to find Greg. He was going bonkers not knowing if he was even alive. He had to be alive. So far they'd eliminated the possibility of getting fingerprints. There weren't any hairs or blood--which was somewhat comforting to Nick--and no shoe prints. As of yet, they didn't have anything. That was what led to the conclusion that whoever had taken Greg was a professional. They had come and gone without leaving a single clue to their identity.

He had to do something. He left in a huff. He had to do something. He didn't know what he was going to do he just couldn't be sitting, or standing still. Griss had been fine with him leaving. There wasn't anything for him to do anyways. He found himself driving in a trance, unaware of where he was going. At first he'd just been driving around, deep in thought. He just let all the images of Greg run wild. He didn't want to give in to them, but he hoped if he got them out of his system now he could move past them and focus on finding him.

He was oblivious to parking the car, walking into a store he didn't know the name of. Oblivious to the items he was tossing into the cart. He was oblivious to all but the fact the Greg was gone. Those three words screamed in his ears. Greg was gone. He had to find him. It wasn't until he was unloading the items that he bought that he truly saw what he'd bought. Two bottles of peroxide, a boat load of Tylenol, Advil, and Aspirin, bandages, tape, band-aids, thermal blankets, he even bought an oxygen mask with two portable tanks. The items were a testament to how truly afraid for Greg he was. He bit back the tears. He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't stop. He would find his closest friend, Greg.

--oo0oo--

His head rolled from side to side doing little up and down circles on the wall. He was so tired, it was getting harder to breathe like this. He tried to take deep, slow breaths, but the awkward stretch forced him to breath shallowly, the muscles in his side pulling painful no matter how shallow the breath. At first he'd tried to clench and release his muscles to try and ease the pain but it only made it worse so he fought to remain perfectly still. He was feeling dizzy. Though he was getting air, he knew it wasn't enough, and felt light headed. He tried to keep his mind occupied on happy things like his Blue Hawaiian coffee, anything but his present circumstances. If it weren't for the fact that he physically couldn't achieve it, he would be hyperventilating himself to unconsciousness. Perhaps I should try anyways, unconsciousness is looking pretty good right now. At first he'd tried to hyperventilate, he even got the buzz in the head as a result, but the pain was too much to continue, yet cruelly not enough to cause him to pass out.

Time stood still. He had no concept of its passage. He had stopped shaking, out of exhaustion only. He had his eyes closed and would open them every now and then to see if he'd wake from this nightmare. He never did. He struggled with the handcuffs in desperation, his wrists now bleed in reward. He froze when he heard the door open, eyes snapping shut fearfully. Perhaps they would think he was unconscious. He was wrong, they didn't care whether he was asleep, unconscious, or pretending. He gasped, air forced from his lungs, unable to draw in a new breath. Bleary, watery eyes reveal the butt of a rifle pulling away from his stomach.

"Hello Greg. I hoped you were comfortable while I was gone?" Greg remained silent, clenching his jaw in anger. Better to remain silent then to get smart and anger them, right? Wrong. The man with the rifle slammed it into his stomach again. By the time he was able to draw another breath it was only to wheeze painfully, forcing the tears not to spill. "Answer me when I speak to you."

"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?" he gasped, intending to yell it.

"I want you, to answer my questions, and promptly. Can you do that?"

"Depends on what the question is." he braced for a blow to come, it didn't.

"Well then, that's sound stupidly brave. Let's see how much you can take before that forte is broken." the man leaned in close to whisper in his ear.

"You will be broken long before I'm finished with you" Greg closed his eyes in terror, desperately trying to gulp down the lump choking him. He kept his eyes closed. He knew something was coming, but he didn't want to see what or when. Abruptly searing hot pain ripped through his entire body. Spasms coursed through his body uncontrollably, the agonized scream echoing off the wall in his mind, though reality his teeth were clenched against his will. The cause was removed after a moment but the pain continued for another three minutes. Sobbing gasps were all that was heard for quite some time. He could feel the burned spots of skin on his ribs, opening his eyes to see them to be quite large. The man that spoke to him was staring at him calmly, a second man holding a stun gun in his hands lightly, just to the right of the man.

"Now, where is my man being held, that you got locked up the other night?" He looked at the man shakily.

"I don't know" it was the truth, he hadn't bothered to see with prison he was being sent to before his trial. He had no reason to. He screamed in his mind as the gun was pressed hard into his side, electricity ripping through his body. They held it to him longer this time. He could barely breathe, he shook all over, tears of agony streaming unchecked down his cheeks. He almost didn't hear the man speaking to him again.

"I'll ask you again. Where is he?"

"I don't know." A thick cold sweat coated his body. This time the man jab the gun against his side sending bursts of electricity through him repeatedly instead of a steady assault. It was unbearable, he couldn't decide whether the unexpected bursts were worse or not. He sobbed uncontrollably between raspy breaths.

"Where is he?" the man was eerily calm, patient, as if he were asking whether it was sunny or raining.

"I DON'T KNOW! WHY WON'T YOU BELIEVE ME?!" he could barely hold his head up, eyelids growing heavier by the second, his vision starting to gray at the edges. The man continued to stare at him, but jerked his head in a tight nod. The guard slammed the gun hard into his stomach, pressing it as deep as it would go and held it, and held, and held, and held, and held. The gun held steady. What was only a few minutes felt like hours and days before the gun was removed. For each shallow, raspy breath taken was an incredible feat accomplished. He sat there completely limp, the world completing turn -abouts. With each short gasp his world faded to black.

--oo0oo--

Nick was pacing again. He'd practically been pacing ever since they discovered Greg was missing. Grissom watched as Stokes itched his upper arm yet again. He'd been doing that, pacing and itching, pacing and itching, ever since he got back from wherever it was he'd gone to. Gil knew he hadn't gone home. He acted as if his skin didn't even fit him. Perhaps there was some literal truth to the phrase, 'itching to do something'. He wished he could help Nick. On the outside he looked calm and in control, but inside he was just like Nick, pacing, stampeding, itching to do something. But what he didn't know. There were no leads to follow. He thought for a moment then went to get two cups of coffee.

"Here, have some of this. You look like you need it." He handed a cup to Nick as he joined him in the room. Nick looked at the cup soberly. He drank the coffee but not because he wanted any but out of gratitude to Grissom.

"I need to do something. I-I can't just sit here with who knows what happening to Greg. I mean is…is he even alive?" They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their coffee, deep in thought.

"I can't tell you for sure Nicky, but I think he's still alive."

"but how can you be sure?"

"I can't. But what I am sure of is that the evidence doesn't point to him being dead, just missing." Nick nodded silently. He was sort of comforted. He supposed that it was better for Greg to be missing with so little evidence, than lots of evidence that pointed towards his death or near it. He sighed deeply, trying to calm his nerves. He fought hard to believe Grissom's words.

"What's everyone else doing?"

"Warrick decided to interview the neighboring apartment owners, Sara is pestering the lab techs to quadruple check the results and dig deeper, not that they hadn't already done everything possible, and I believe Catherine decided to rush the complex owner into releasing security footage sooner than possible." He smiled sadly, a small glimmer of hope rested in those cameras.

"That's good. If we get anything, it'll be from the cameras. The window was open so I think they left through it and down the fire escape." Gil nodded. He had lots of his hopes piled onto those cameras. He knew he shouldn't, but the emotions he kept hidden from the world were clawing free. It was only a matter of time before they broke free. He only hoped that they would have Greg back long before the emotions escaped the cage. He highly doubted he'd be able to deal with his emotions and still have to find Sanders at the same time. He would take the time for emotions after Greg was safe.

"Come on, you need to eat something. Plus you've made a trench in the floor. By the time we're back Catherine will have something for us." Nick thought about refusing, but then he realized that he really didn't have anything he could do except pace the room. He looked at the carpet and saw a lighter patch where he'd been walking. He couldn't hold back a slight chuckle. Grissom looked at what Stokes was laughing at and couldn't help but smile. He really had walked a trench into the floor.

--oo0oo--

Catherine stood beside Archie waiting impatiently as he cued up whatever it was that he'd found on the tapes. Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Grissom all stood a distance away from her keeping Archie between them. She was radiating with a stressed, impatient determination that put them all at risk if they crowded her too much or made her feel like her work was impeded. She was in a dangerous mood. Greg had become like a son she had to protect, and now he was in danger. Just like anyone that got in her way to bringing him home would be. Archie stopped fast forwarding the security footage.

"Okay here it is. This car pulls up by the fire escape an hour before Greg gets home." He fast forwarded again, the car never moving an inch. They saw Greg's SUV drive past slowly before parking out of sight. "Now we see this guy get out of the car. We didn't get any facial clues but we've got the general build. He's a behemoth." they nodded in agreement, the guy was huge. They fast forwarded again as ten minutes passed within thirty seconds. They watched again in real time. The window to Greg's apartment opened slowly, the curtains wafting in and out. Suddenly Greg was shoved through the window, landing hard on his back. They could see he was barely conscious, head lolling slightly in resistance to the sideways listing. He looked to be struggling to sit up, move, anything, but they could see that his body wasn't cooperating. The same man as earlier was now seen climbing out cautiously, not bothering to close the window behind him. He lifted Greg onto his shoulder and carried him down the stairs, shoving him into the trunk of the car and driving off.

"Did we get anything else from this?" it was Gil.

"Yeah, a license plate number"

--oo0oo--

The world was spinning. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but he certainly regretted waking up. Everything hurt. He felt like he was on fire. It was sheer agony. His breathing was labored, swallowing was pure misery and he'd given up on getting relief from his awkward position. He tried to shrink deep inside himself. He just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. Waves of nausea washed over him but so far he'd managed to keep the contents of his stomach contained. He kept his eyes closed, not that it really mattered in the pitch black room. He focused on breathing in and out. It occupied his mind along with a single mantra he repeated silently desperate to keep some faint hope.

Nick will find me. Nick will save me. Nick will find me. Nick will save me. Nick will find me. Nick will save me….

He was so deep inside himself that he never heard the door open, or the scuffing of four shoes crossing the floor to where he sat. A blast of iced water shocked him back to alertness, sluggish as it was. He dragged his eyes up to stare at his tormentors. The guard sneered at him and the other man gazed at him serenely with a disinterest one my give to a piece of garbage in the street. His heart pounded against his ribs, blood rushing through his ears so audaciously he could barely hear the man speak to him. He took as deep of a breath as his body would allow trying to calm his heart. He could see the man's lips move but the words were garbled. Another shock of water blasted him just as he drew a breath. Flesh tearing coughs racked through his body, struggling to expel the water from his windpipe until he could barely draw a breath his sides pained him so.

"Who do you work with?" Greg frowned. They'd already asked this.

"CSI" the man frowned with a subtle nod. The guard kicked him hard in the ribs three or four times. The man huffed with a resigned sigh.

"Who are your co-workers?" he emphasized co-workers as if he were speaking to a simpleton.

"Grissom" the man scowled when he gave only one name. The kicks returned viciously. Greg screamed as he heard and felt each rib break with an audible snap. Tears streamed down his face, the pain sent the room spinning, white and black spots dancing before his eyes, and the bile burning its way up his esophagus. Perfectly synchronized the kicks stopped and he immediately lurched as far forward as the restraints allowed, retching full force. The men waited as he continued to dry heave before slumping backwards utterly exhausted, his vision severely grayed.

"Tell me everybody to work for." he could hear the impatience leak into each word.

"Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, and Sidle." they were barely hoarse whispers.

"And that is everyone?" he nodded hastily. "Good. Oh and next time I ask you a question. Give me the whole answer the first time." The man pressed the stun gun hidden behind his back hard against Greg, holding it steady long and hard. The pain ripped through him like nothing he could believe for what felt like eternity before the world collapsed.