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 Oh, all right, as some of you begged me so nicely, I won't make you wait any longer for this...

Senseless

It was Grissom, he was alive, and anything else Brass could deal with.

The detective was almost relieved to see the tape over his friend's mouth, because it probably meant that the guy hadn't done anything permanent to Gil's voice. What worried him more were the surgical dressings taped over Grissom's eyes. Had the perp. done them even more damage?

"Gil? It's Jim, you're safe now. I'm just gonna take a quick photo, and then I'll get that tape off your mouth. And don't worry, I'll be careful and I'm wearing gloves. I'd hate for you to get mad at me 'cos I screwed up some piece of evidence." he added, trying to keep his voice light.

Quickly Brass took a couple of close-ups of Grissom's face, the gently removed the gag from his lips, thankful that it was made up of several strips of surgical tape and far less painful to pull off than duct tape would have been.

Carefully Brass laid the tape out on top of the evidence bag he'd brought with him, and then turned back to his friend. He wanted to remove the pads from Grissom's eyes so he could see the man's face properly but he resisted, taking them off wouldn't do Gil any good and might even harm him, if there was some kind of injury underneath them.

"Gil? I need you to talk to me pal, I'm gonna turn you back on to your side in a minute and free your hands, but I need to know you can hear me, and that you're going to be OK if it takes a little longer before I get you away from here. I'm trying to preserve as much evidence as I can, but I have to know if I need to get you medical help fast. Understand?"

"Yeah, Jim. I understand. I'm OK?" Grissom's voice was weak, but his words were intelligible, even if he wasn't saying much and the last couple of words were definitely more a question than a statement.

"Yeah, you are. I'm gonna turn you now buddy, just try and relax."

Brass eased Grissom back over onto his side, and after taking close up pictures of his friend's hands and wrists he cut through the rope, making sure to leave the knot in one piece. He laid the rope next to the tape from the gag then turned back to Grissom.

Grissom hadn't moved, his arms were still behind him and he wasn't even rubbing his wrists to try and restore the circulation. Jim guessed that his friend had been lying in that position for a while and had stiffened to the point where it was painful to move. If necessary he'd massage the circulation back into his friend's limbs himself, but first he would repeat the close-up, click, cut routine on the rope around Grissom's legs.

Once that was done, Jim quickly scribbled a note of where the tape and each piece of rope had come from next to them on the bag they were laid out on. He took a final picture of the items, and then put the camera down on the bag too. Everything would now be left until a CSI could take over chain of custody.

Returning to the still unmoving Grissom, Brass took his friend's hands in his own, taking care not to dislodge the dressings on the palms because he didn't know what was underneath those either.

"Gil, can you squeeze my fingers?" There was a slight pressure in response. "You're ice cold!" Jim hadn't realised straight away because of the latex gloves he was wearing, but now the chill of Grissom's hands was obvious. Leaning forward and placing a hand on his friend's shoulder he asked him how long he'd been lying there, on the cold concrete floor.

"Not sure, he had me lie here then sedated me. Woke up a couple of hours ago, I think. Hard to tell." Grissom's voice wasn't much more than a whisper.

"OK. I'm going to call in the EMTs then try and get you warmed up a little while we wait." Brass started to reach for the radio at his belt.

"NO." It wasn't anywhere near a shout, but it was the loudest sound Grissom had made since Jim arrived. "No medics, no hospitals. I can't deal with that, Jim." The voice trailed off into silence.

"Gil, you're freezing cold and hardly moving. You need checking over at the very least."

"I'm fine, muscles just cramped, haven't been able to move much for... How long did he have me?"

Brass checked his watch. "It's just under thirty-five hours since Catherine saw him drive you away. She hadn't followed you, but Archie called her and..."

"Stop." Grissom was making an effort to speak louder again, and Brass leant forward to hear him. "Don't say anything to me about the case, nothing at all, and don't let anyone else either. It's important Jim, swear to me."

"OK, OK, I swear, but why?"

"It's important."

That didn't tell Jim what he wanted to know, but he let it go for now as he saw his friend's jaw clench, making his cleft chin seem more determined than ever.

Grissom was moving his right arm. Slowly and with obvious difficulty he brought it forward, over his side and in front of his body.

"See, moving now, so no medics." Grissom managed to say through gritted teeth. Jim moved to take some of his old friend's weight as Grissom now tried to move his left arm, which had been trapped underneath his body. As it came free, Grissom rolled over on to his back once more with a deep sigh.

Grissom seemed to have used up what little strength he had and Brass was just about to take his coat off and use it to cover his friend when Grissom spoke again.

"Are you just going to wait there, Jim, or are you going to help me sit up?"

Brass moved round to where he could help his friend sit, not sure if he should be pleased that Grissom had managed to string a proper, if slightly grumpy, sentence together, or concerned that his friend still couldn't use his arms well enough to push himself up. Fortunately, once he was in a sitting position, Grissom was able to remain there unsupported.

Now Brass did offer his jacket, but Grissom refused, he didn't want Jim's DNA contaminating anything the perp. might have left behind. Jim was still very concerned about how cold Grissom had become and told him that the only way he was going to avoid having the coat wrapped round him was if he moved to sit in Brass' car with the heater on. Jim would cover the passenger seat with another of the large paper evidence sacks to avoid contamination. Grissom agreed, but it took a lot of effort to get him to his feet and he had to accept that at least some of Brass' DNA was going to end up on him when he realised his legs wouldn't hold him and he could only walk to the car by putting his slightly stronger right arm around Jim's shoulders and leaning on him heavily.

Finally they were both seated in the car. Brass was still figuring out what to do next. Grissom seemed in bad shape, and even if he wasn't he should be checked over for a medical report. However, his friend was clearly against the idea of visiting any hospital facility right now. Brass was grateful that Grissom's eagerness to preserve DNA evidence seemed to mean he was OK with the idea of being processed for evidence by a CSI.

Brass hoped the other man's problem with hospitals was because of his inpatient stay four weeks earlier and nothing to do with Grissom having spent over a day in the hands of someone who had shown far too much enjoyment in the practice of amateur surgery.

Looking at Grissom's profile, the previously tanned skin now pale, his brow furrowed above the pads taped over his eyes, and with the lines around his mouth emphasised by a layer of greying stubble, it seemed to Jim that his friend had aged about ten years in the last month, and even the white which had been present for years in the hair at the other man's temples seemed to have spread further. Brass very much wanted to avoid adding to Gil's stress levels right now.

The sound of another vehicle became audible and Jim got out of the car to deal with the uniformed officers. He detailed one of them to take statements from the witnesses downstairs, then showed the other where to tape off the scene and gave him custody of the collected evidence until a CSI arrived. Brass then made a couple of calls before rejoining Grissom in the car.

"OK, Gil, you've made it clear that you don't want to go to the hospital, but I want you checked out, if only to provide evidence for the case." Evidence was far from Brass' real priority, but he knew it was probably the best way to persuade Grissom. He put his hand, still gloved, on Grissom's arm to stop him as he tried to interrupt. "I called Al Robbins. I know it's not his usual role, but he's agreed to meet us at the crime lab and take a look at you there. There's one condition though - if he says you need to go to hospital you go, no arguments. OK?"

Grissom hesitated, then nodded.

"I called Catherine too," Brass continued, "I told her we were coming and that Al's on his way to her. I also told her to make sure no-one mentions anything about the case to you, just like you asked. She's even going to clear the corridors between the back door and your office, so you won't hear anything by accident."

The relief that had been in Catherine's voice when Jim had informed her that he'd found their friend alive had rapidly changed to concern as Brass had added more details about Grissom's condition, her anxiety peaking as he'd mentioned the arrangement with Doc. Robbins and asked if there might be such a thing as a wheelchair lying around the lab that Grissom could use. Brass hadn't tried to reassure her, she'd have spotted he was lying to her even from the other end of the 'phone.

"OK, let's go then." Brass shifted the vehicle into drive and headed for the down ramp. At level two he saw a CSI Denali on its way up. Catherine had told Brass that she'd assigned Nick to the 419 call, and Jim knew the Texan would be upset that he hadn't had chance to see that Grissom was alive and safe for himself, but Brass had only one priority right now, it was sitting right next to him and went by the name of Doctor Gilbert Grissom.

TBC