DEDICATED TO: FaithfulPureLight, FOR SHOVING MY ASS BACK INTO THE CHAIR TO WRITE MORE!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Shut up.
THANKS TO:
simple-plan0918
lil'spencefan !
X3jordanface
And thanks to everyone else I let down by almost abandoning this monstrosity. Lol. I apologize the for obnoxious delay.
Greg was panting heavily. He couldn't get enough air into his lungs. Pain invaded his chest every time he tried to take a breath. His head swam and little black dots passed before his eyes. Blood from his nose made his lips wet and coppery and he was pretty sure he was bleeding to death from the inside out.
He'd stopped speaking long ago, lacking the energy.
"Am I jogging any memories yet?" Bob demanded, pistol-whipping Greg across the temple.
The worst part was that Greg remembered the case AND the evidence that put him away, but he couldn't get enough air into his lungs to answer. He nodded, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his neck.
"Tell me who I am," the man hissed, getting into his face.
"Grene," gasped Greg, his eyes prickling with tears when his ribs seemed to stretch. "Damon… Grene."
"What a good boy!" Damon socked him in the stomach, "What did I do?"
Greg let out a cough, spraying blood on Damon's shoes and earning another blow to the face.
"R-rape," he croaked, "Murder… abduction…"
"You have a good memory," said Damon, softly, kneeling in front of the younger man, "Tell me this: What evidence put me away?"
The DNA tech took another rasping breath.
"Fingerprints."
"And"
"DNA."
"And what else?"
"Eyewitnesses…" Greg replied, a vicious grin starting to appear on his bloodied face, "You were sloppy… one of the easiest catches."
An ugly look stole over Damon's scarred face. His features twisted into an expression of rage. It was terrifying to watch and have no way of escaping.
"Why you…" His voice was deadly quiet, "You know you're going to pay for that…"
Damon lost it and began to beat every part of Greg he could reach worse than before.
"Damon! Give it a rest already!" Armando snapped, "I'm trying to read! It's kind of hard to do that when with you yelling at him and his grunting every time you hit him! TAKE A BREAK!"
'Consider your asses haunted if you don't find me,' was Greg's last conscious thought before passing out.
He woke up in more pain than he could have ever imagined, laying face-down on a hard wooden floor in a puddle of his own blood. He heard voices.
"They're right outside! I told you we weren't going to make it out!" said Armando.
"Then get your gun because we're not going down without a fight, Andrew," said Damon.
There was a rustle of clothing, then swearing.
"It's gone."
"What the hell do you mean, 'it's gone'!"
"Say it again. It means that my gun is NOT here. I must have lost it when we grabbed Sanders."
Greg didn't open his eyes. He heard sirens coming closer, but his sluggish mind didn't really comprehend the sound.
"I can't take them all on my own," Damon sighed in frustration.
The sirens grew louder. Greg dragged his left arm up, gasping at the additional discomfort it caused. He pulled up his wrist to look at his watch. 7:45 am.
He'd been unconscious for somewhere around six hours… and he was still alive? He couldn't believe it. There was a strip of raw, bloody skin below his watch where he'd been tied.
Greg could see flashing lights in reflected in his own blood through the window. The sirens grew louder still. His eyes opened wide in realization, tears filled them, but they didn't fall .
"They found me…" he murmured to himself.
"Okay guys, remember, approach with extreme caution!" Brass yelled, "The kidnappers will probably use Greg as a human shield."
The police officers to whom Brass was speaking nodded. The detective stepped onto the porch drawing his gun. He knocked hard on the door.
"Andrew Gordon and Damon Grene! Open the door now or we will break it down!" he yelled.
Nick's heart thudded so hard in his chest, he was afraid that Grissom would hear it.
'Finally,' thought Nick, 'We're getting him back.'
The two CSIs were forced to wait behind a patrol car while Brass and the cops covered the scene.
"Andrew Gordon and Damon Grene! Open the door now or we will break it down!" 'Brass!' the recognition hit him hard. His eyes widened.
"Hey look! Sanders is awake!" Damon exclaimed gleefully. "Come on! Get him up in front of the window. We'll use him as a bargaining chip!"
"Damon…" Andrew said quietly.
"And if it doesn't work, we'll just kill him -- "
"Damon!" Andrew interrupted loudly.
"What?" demanded Damon, hauling Greg up, who moaned in agony as his ribs ground together.
He shoved the young man's bloody face against the window, pointing the gun at the back of his head.
Greg saw, in amazement, six cop cars with the police running around to surround the place. His eyes traveled -- and his heart skipped a few beats -- they landed on Brass. Moving them along, he saw Nick and Grissom.
Suddenly, nothing was more important than getting out. There was hope now that he could cling to. Greg struggled against Damon, gaining nothing.
"Damon, knock it off!" yelled Andrew. "It's not going to work!"
The shorter man let go of Greg, who fell back to the floor with a grunt and a soft cry. He writhed for a moment, trying anything to relieve some of the pressure on his chest. Damon spun around to face his friend.
"Then what do you propose we do, eh, smart guy?"
"I'm not going to jail again," Andrew said firmly, a note of fear in his voice. The next time he spoke, he sounded like his mind was made up. "I'd rather die before I went back"
"Oh my god, Grissom, look!" Nick hissed, elbowing the older man in the side.
In the dimly lit cabin, they could see the two kidnappers looking out the window. A tall man and a short one.
The taller one wore a black ski mask, while the other man did not. They appeared to be arguing, then the shorter man looked down at something, smiled and bent down, out of their sights.
When the man came back up, he was dragging a familiar face by the neck. He shoved Greg against the window and everyone could see his face contort in pain. The next thing they saw horrified them even more: the shorter man shoved a gun at the back of Greg's head.
"Damn it…" Grissom muttered, twisting his hands. "Go! Go! Go!"
As if these were the magic words, Brass echoed them and all the cops leapt into action.
The officer the CSIs met before, Jake Allens, had his foot raised and kicked the door in. The officer rushed in, followed by three others.
Shots rang out, then Damon and Andrew sprinted outside, one of them carrying a seemingly unconscious Greg slung over one shoulder. There were more cops outside than there were inside and the shorter man, in a panic, raised his gun and began firing wildly. The taller man flung Greg to the ground and made an attempt to stop him.
Then they both stopped. The shorter man wrenched his arm out of his friend's grasp and pointed his gun at Greg's unmoving body.
Nick yelled something he would later never remember and shot forward. Damon looked up in surprise to see the Texan coming barreling at him and wit Hough thinking, he raised the gun to Nick's chest and fired.
Author's Notes: