I make no claim to own CSI, the characters or any of the situations therein, I write in homage, with no intent to steal.

AN I'd like to point out that I'm actually quite a nice person IRL - I have teddy bears and a hamster called Harry (picture in my profile). And I do actually like Grissom - in fact I aspire to reach his level of social skills. ;-)

Senseless

Back at the lab the bloody fingerprints had been quickly compared with employee records and confirmed as Grissom's.

Nick and Warrick had arrived and were now working their way through the DMV database. Beginning with the partial index, they were narrowing their search against the make and model of the pickup, and the search area that Sara had identified using the timings from the truck crash cases. Unfortunately Sara's figures had resulted in a radius of over sixty miles from the crash site, so the men were left with a large number of possible hits which they were going through one by one, trying to link the vehicle with a male driver connected either presently or in the past with either a military or medical facility.

Archie, who had stayed behind after his call to Catherine, was now working with copies of the surveillance tapes. Although the kidnapper was clearly on there, it hadn't been possible to get a good image of his face, somehow part of it was always obscured by either the man's cap, or the pickup truck or, in a couple of shots, by Grissom himself. Archie was trying to piece together a number of images to produce a single clear shot of the man.

Sara was also in the A/V lab, going through another copy of one of the tapes and trying to magnify and enhance the view of the far sidewalk where the initial part of the abduction had taken place. Even with all the technology available the image was far from good. Sara was also having trouble understanding why Grissom had been so co-operative.

Once Greg had finished calling at trace and DNA to drop off his other evidence, he joined Sara in front of the screen. Hoping fresh eyes would help; Sara started the tape again and began talking him through the footage.

"See, here's the guy leaning against the wall, looking like he's got time on his hands, just waiting for something to happen. According to the tape though, he's only been there a couple of minutes. Parked the truck and practically ran across the road to set himself up in that spot. OK. Now we see Grissom coming into view. Cath made him wear that reflective belt thing, not exactly high style but at least we know for sure it's him, despite the poor image.

Right. Our perp. is trying to look relaxed, but check out his feet."

"He's almost dancing... Wait, I get it, he's avoiding Grissom's cane. He must be pretty light on his feet, surely Griss should have heard him?" Greg frowned at the video.

"Well, clearly he didn't." Sara resumed, edging the video along in slow motion. "Here we go. Our perp. snags Grissom's ankle with his foot and Griss goes down, his cane snaps and he hits the ground with his hands and knees first."

Greg couldn't quite suppress a sympathetic "Ouch".

Sara frowned at her colleague and then continued.

"The perp. follows Griss down, maybe trying to make it look like an accident and maybe saying that he wants to help. The way he's taken hold of Grissom's arm looks a little odd though; see how he's using both hands? Now he's saying something else to Grissom, but right in his ear this time, doesn't want some passer-by hearing. Whatever it is, it alarms Griss, see how he reacts?"

"Yes. Whoa. Wait, take that back to just before Grissom flings his arm out. Now go forward, slow as you can. What is that?"

Greg points to the screen where a small object appears to detach itself from Grissom and fly into the adjoining garden.

"It's probably the handle end of his cane." Sara responded. "It has a wrist strap, so I figure it was still attached to his arm after the rest had broken off. Griss waving his arm like that must've slung it loose. One of us will need to go collect it, but there's no hurry, it'll only have Griss's prints on it, and we have other stuff to work on that might be more helpful right now."

"No," Greg was certain, "all the pieces of his cane were on the sidewalk, including the handle. I double checked, even called the hospital to find out what the total length should be. I'm going back to check that garden. Can you print me a couple of stills so I can try and figure out the direction this thing was headed in?"

Sara did so and Greg was off, racing to be back at the scene before the last of the daylight was gone.

---

Whistling. This guy's about to do God knows what to me and he's whistling. Grissom shifted as much as his bonds would allow. With so little freedom some of his muscles were starting to cramp, but that discomfort was nothing compared with the fear of what might happen to him next. Sight, then speech, what could be next on the man's list? Hearing?

Even as the thought struck him, a moist pad started to carefully swab around his right ear and the too familiar smell of antiseptic hit Grissom's nose.

Stop him, I have to stop him somehow. But all Grissom could use was his voice, and if he got this wrong he might lose that too.

"P p please." Stop. Don't plead with him, sound stronger, advise him, scientist to 'scientist'. Grissom started again.

"You're probably going to think I'm just saying this to stall, but as a scientist I feel I should warn you that as far as experimenting on someone's ears is concerned I'm probably not your best subject."

"Oh, and why is that?" The man sounded as though he was only half listening as he concentrated on prepping Grissom's ear. Grissom knew he reacted like that himself when someone interrupted him while he was performing an intriguing experiment of his own.

"I've had ear surgery before. Now I have a prosthesis in each ear. Results from an experiment on me won't be the same as for someone without them."

The cleaning stopped. He seemed to have got through to the man, but would it be enough?

"What kind of prosthesis? What was your condition?"

"My stapes bones were removed and replaced with artificial ones. It's a standard procedure for otosclerosis, a genetic condition I inherited from my mother."

"I need evidence." His captor's tone had become abrupt. Grissom hoped he could give him enough information to stop whatever had been planned.

"I don't know what instruments you have available to see with. There's not much that's obvious externally. My left ear was worse, the surgeon had to approach it differently, there's a small scar in the crease behind the ear from that, but it's only about half an inch long." Grissom was sure about that one, he'd felt it, but it wasn't much proof. "If you can look into my ear canals check around the edges of my eardrums, they needed to be turned back so the surgeon could work on my inner ears, then they were put back into position. There may be some scarring visible from that, I don't know."

Footsteps indicated his abductor's movement and then Grissom's left ear was pulled forward as the man inspected behind it. Then something cold was inserted into the ear itself, an action which was then repeated on the right.

There was a half snort, half sigh then the sound of tearing. Before Grissom was aware of the man's intent a piece of tape was pressed hard against his mouth, sealing his lips. Then the chin strap tightened, immobilising his jaw.

With a muttered, "not that anyone would hear you anyway," the man departed, and Grissom heard a door being locked behind him.

What had he done? He might have caused a temporary halt in the man's plans, but what would he decide to do instead? Grissom could only think of two possibilities that the man might choose for further experiments. After robbing someone of their sight, speech and hearing, surely next would come touch or the ability to move; either of which could mean some sort of paralysis or possibly amputation. Even if his captor chose not to perform further 'tests' it didn't mean he was just going to set Grissom free, his treatment of Grissom's 'phone showed how little respect he had for things he felt were no longer of use.

Gruesome Grissom was a nickname often applied to him, usually with affection, but he could really have done without his awareness of all the macabre possibilities for what might happen to him next.

Anxiety was rising in him and Grissom found himself struggling against his restraints, despite already knowing it was pointless. Eventually he stopped, his heart pounding and his flesh sore where it had been rubbing against his bonds.

Is this what he intends? Grissom thought, in the silence of the otherwise empty room. His victims blind, mute, unhearing and immobile. Nothing to do but think and no way to express those thoughts - and slowly going insane.

Grissom had to get back his self control, he'd only been left like this for a few minutes and he was already panicking. He needed to remind himself that, except for his sight, he still had all his faculties and only a few bits of tape and rope were stopping him from using them.

First he pressed his fingers into the pads on his hands, using the pain from his abrasions to remind himself he could still feel. Concentrating on that ability to move his fingers he started to tap on the wood of the chair arms, feeding his hearing. He hummed too, more sound and the feeling of the tape against his lips reminding him that that was all that was stopping him from speaking. He wriggled his toes as well, welcoming the pins and needles as circulation returned to his legs.

Feel, concentrate, cope.

Breathe, stay calm and wait.

And wait.

TBC