Left for Dead

Thanks everyone for the awesome reviews and prompts! Here's the next chapter; Enjoy!

Chapter Info: For Lil Badger 101: How about Greg getting lost/stranded in the desert. Set in early season six.

Greg knew that something was wrong the second he started regaining consciousness. He felt like he was in trapped in an oven, his throat was parched and his head was pounding. He went to go wipe the sweat off his face when he realized his hands were bound together in front of him. Just my luck. He blinked his eyes open sluggishly and squinted at the bright sunlight burning his retinas.

"The hell?" But talking was a bad idea, because it caused him to start coughing violently. He rolled onto his elbows and knees, trying to catch his breath. And after what seemed like hours, he finally caught a break. Breathless and his ribs throbbing in pain, he looked up and dread overcame him; there was nothing but desert, desert and more desert. All around him for miles and miles. Greg coughed as he stumbled into a hunched stand, looking in each direction; there wasn't even a fucking road! He was so confused and he was stranded in the middle of nowhere, let alone if he was even in Las Vegas anymore. The wind suddenly picked up and it knocked his weak body back into a crumpled position in the dirt. His head hit the barren ground hard and Greg groaned in pain, feeling extremely nauseous; he shivered despite the nearly 100 degree weather. His mind was a total blank and he really wanted to know how and why he was abandoned in the desert…alone. What the hell happened?

24 Hours Earlier

Greg sighed as he looked down at the ground in the locker room. Today had not been a good day. He had messed up on the case which caused another victim to be killed. He was also punched in the face by a potential suspect, so now he was sporting a nice shiner around his eye. God, he couldn't do anything right. Ecklie was sure to fire him soon and no doubt Nick and Warrick would make fun of him and say he should be back in the lab. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall; he refused to be seen as baby Greg. He sniffed, swallowing his pain and looking up at the ceiling.

"Greggo?" Nick.

He didn't want to look at the man; if Nick got one look at him, he'd a) laugh at him or b) know something was up…and get mad. He looked away, but knew it wouldn't be that easy. Nick never let things go when it came to all things serious.

"Greg, you alright man?"

"Yeah…yeah, I'm good, Nick."

"Greg, you know I can tell when you're lying." Nick moved into the locker room, standing near his best friend, though the kid still wouldn't look at him. "Hey, look at me."

"Nick, I said I'm fine."

"Alright, then there's no reason for you not to look at me."

Rolling his eyes, Greg begrudgingly swiveled his head and came face to face with the Texan. A look of shock and then anger flashed across Nick's face and Greg knew this wasn't gonna be good. He liked having an older and protective brother, but sometimes it could get out of hand…especially when he got hurt.

"Son of a bitch," Nick muttered. The bruise was big and it looked recent. "Who did this to you? I'm gonna rip their friggin lungs out!"

"Nick, I'm okay now."

"You're not," Nick clenched his fists. "And after I'm done kicking the bastard's ass, the guy who did it isn't gonna be either."

"Please…just let it go," Greg pleaded tiredly. He really wasn't in the mood.

"No, that's not who I am."

Greg looked at his feet and mumbled. "I deserved it, Nick…so please just let it go. This day has been bad enough already."

Nick's features softened and he sat down next to Greg. "What are you talking about man?"

Greg shook his head. "I screwed up…like I always do. I messed up the case and now someone died, because of me."

"Shit, Greg. I'm sorry."

The blonde smiled weakly, still keeping his gaze on the ground. "It's not your fault…it's mine."

"Listen G, we all mess up a case now and then; it's nothing you can help. Do remember what Gris told you when you became a CSI? He said he doesn't always expect you to get it right all the time. You got the evidence, dude, and that's what really matters…and you definitely did not deserve it."

"Yeah, but someone died because I didn't get it right this time. That's gonna be on my conscience for the rest of my life."

Nick looked at his friend sadly before placing a hand on the kid's back. "You know what you need…what we both need? A guy's night out, right now, you and me, at the bar."

Greg smiled. "Nick-"

"Ah, ah, no being a party-pooper. Come on, we haven't hung out in ages."

Greg thought about it for a minute and realized he did need this. Something to get this horrible day off his mind for a while. "Alright…but only because you know you need a wingman to set you up with the ladies." The two stood up and grabbed their jackets, heading out into the hallway.

"Hey, I know how to reel in a woman on my own, thank you very much."

"Sure…then prove it."

"You're on, buddy."

~+CSI+~

"You're right, Nick, this is just what I needed," Greg smiled as he tipped his head back and let the alcohol run down his throat.

"See, I told you, man. And tomorrow will be a better day…I promise." If only he knew how wrong he'd be.

The two CSI's chatted for a bit about the job and if there was anything else that was bothering Greg…and there had been. Greg's Grandpa Olaf had passed a couple days ago and the kid just found out about it earlier. Talk about a bad day.

"Geez, buddy, I'm so sorry."

Greg sniffed, feeling a little light-headed from all the alcohol. He was trying to drown his sorrows and failures, but Nick was making sure he didn't consume too much. The man shook his head and sighed. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by gunshots inside the building. Out of instinct, Nick pulled his gun and Greg crouched down, not having one of his own because he never liked them…maybe he should start carrying them now.

"Everybody down on the ground and no one gets hurt!" A burly man with goatee said.

"LVPD! Put the gun down!" Nick shouted.

Greg was breathing heavily, scared out of his mind. He wasn't trained for this type of stuff…not yet anyways. God, this day just sucked out loud.

"You put the gun down, pig." The other guy looked around and then grabbed the girl nearest to him. She screamed but her voice was cut off when the man tightened his arm around her throat. "Or she dies."

Nick gulped, giving a sideways glance to Greg. He slightly moved to the side to keep the young man behind him. Nothing was gonna happen to his little brother; not on his watch…or ever.

"What do you want?" Nick growled.

"Money…all of it. From every single one of you and from the register or she dies."

Before Nick could say anything, people started emptying their pockets and the bartender shakily opened the drawer and put the money in a bag the taller man was providing. When the guys came up to the CSI's, he nearly towered over Nick.

"Money…now."

Sneering, Nick kept the gun in one hand before emptying his pocket and throwing the loose bills at the man. He was fully calm…up until the robber noticed Greg.

"Trying to hide from us, aren't we?"

Greg gulped, looking up at Nick.

"Empty your pockets."

"I don't…I don't have any money."

"You're a bad liar, kid. Now give me the money!"

"I swear I don't have any."

"Greg," Nick said cautiously. "Give him the money, okay? I'll pay you back."

"Nick, I don't have-" but before he could finish, Greg was roughly pulled by the arm from behind the stool and out into the open. "Let the girl go, Niko. We've got a cop instead."

Greg struggled against the man's tight hold while Nick struggled to keep his cool. They were gonna hurt his little brother and that was not okay with him.

"Alright, let's go; we're taking him as leverage. You can find him later…but I can't guarantee it'll be a rescue." With that, the man chuckled evilly and started towards the back door.

"Greg no!"

"Ni-" But before he could finish, the man squeezed Greg's throat tightly.

Nick watched in horror as Greg struggled to breathe before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his entire body went limp. And when Greg was slung carelessly on the robber's shoulder, he took a step forward, wanting to punch the guy straight in the nose.

"Stay back or pretty boy gets it."

His heart beat painfully against his chest as he was forced to watch his little brother- the one he was supposed to protect with his life- be carried away and out the back door. The other = guy stayed until his friend disappeared before he backed out slowly.

"If anyone follows," and then he pointed to the Texan. "Or if you try to be a hero, your friend will be dead in an instant. So make the right choice."

Nick reluctantly remained still, not wanting to be the cause of Greg's death.

"Good. Thank you all for your kind service." He shot his gun once more before running after his partner. As soon as they were gone, Nick ran out the back door just in time to see the car peel around the corner. His legs went weak and he fell to his knees on the wet tar; tears began to form in his eyes before he slammed both his fists on the ground. Greg was gone and it was his fault. He had failed to protect his little brother and now Greg might die.

~+CSI+~

He could tell he was in a small space; it was just the feeling. It was hot and stuffy and he had no recollection of where he was or why. Groaning weakly, Greg blinked his eyes open and was met with total darkness. At first, the worst thought came to mind and he thought that maybe he'd been buried alive like Nick had. He started to panic and his breathing turned into frantic gasps. He knew that this wasn't gonna help though and he closed his eyes, trying to be calm. When he finally- somewhat- relaxed, the young CSI opened his eyes and sat up, trying to make out his surroundings. However, he was stopped short when he head made contact with a hard metal surface.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, laying back down and trying to let the nausea pass. However, he knew that he was in a very bad place right now. His neck felt tight which made it a lot more difficult to breathe. The low hum coming from beneath him made him realize he was in a trunk…which was a bad thing, because he was about six feet tall and Las Vegas was one of the hottest places in the world. So he was basically being cooked alive right now. Coughing, Greg rolled onto his back and banged his fists on the roof of the trunk.

"Hey!" He yelled out, his throat parched and neck pulsing. He vaguely remembered being strangled in front of his best friend and others in the bar, but anything before or after that was a complete blank. "What the hell do you want from me? Let me out!" When he heard nothing, he started to kick…as much as he could in his hunched position. "Let me the hell out, you bastards!"

"Hey kid, shut the fuck up! We'll let you go when we want to let you go!"

"No! Tell me what you want!" Please. He didn't want to show his kidnappers fear, assuming that they wanted that from him.

"You know if I were you, kid, I'd stop talking. You may not have a lot of air in there." He heard an evil chuckle and he had to admit they were right. He was wasting precious oxygen by yelling. Breathing slowly, he closed his eyes, feeling tears start to well up; this couldn't be happening. He was trapped in the trunk of a car, sweltering, thirsty, tired and in pain.

"Please," he was desperate. He knew that if he didn't get out of here, he was gonna suffocate or die of extreme heat. "Just let me go."

"We'll let you go when you're dead," one of his kidnappers said.

Greg turned back onto his side and started to cry. He was gonna die; his life was over. He let out muffled, shuddering sobs before falling back into unconsciousness…because that was the only place that was cold and the only place he found solace away from this horrible nightmare.

The next time he woke up, he knew that this was a lot worse than being stuck in a trunk. He was in the middle of nowhere with the hot sun beating down on him. He knew he was gonna get a sunburn…a really bad one at that. The kidnappers had left him for dead out in this desert and there was no way his team was gonna find him. And Nick…god he hoped nothing bad happened to the guy, because if something did, Greg would never forgive himself if Nick got hurt and he'd been too weak to save him. Stupid! Why did he have to be so useless?

"I'm sorry Nick," he sniffed, curling into a fetal position. But he knew that laying on the ground wouldn't help his situation. He needed to get these binds off and find a way to safety even though it was highly unlikely. Groaning in pain, Greg pushed himself up, breathing heavily and started walking in the direction he thought was north…he didn't know, he was too exhausted already to care. He looked ahead of him with sheer devastation; there was miles and miles of sand and sun. He would be surprised if he made it even three miles without collapsing. The road to help was a long ways away but the road to death was just right around the corner.

~+CSI+~

Nick paced the break room, nervous and extremely pissed at himself. He should've protected Greg better, he should've offered himself up. The kid shouldn't be going through whatever the hell he was enduring right now. Nick deserved it more than Greg, because the guy was having a bad day already…that was what made Nick angrier. He was the one who made Greg go out; the kid was hesitant and Nick practically forced him. Now look where it got them all. Brass had gotten everyone from the bar to the lab for questioning, though Nick had already given him a good description of the guys. So why were they wasting their time when they should be looking for Greg.

"God." He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a shaky breath.

"Nicky?"

The Texan looked up and saw Catherine standing in the doorway with a sad smile on her face. "Hey Cath."

She moved in closer. "How're you doing?"

"Not good; I mean, why is Brass questioning people? Greg is out there with two psychos and we're wasting our time."

"It's all part of standard procedure, sweetie." She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

"When the hell have we ever gone by standard procedure?"

"Yeah…you're right; but don't worry, Greg's tougher than he looks and we'll find him."

"I hope so."

All of sudden Brass knocked on the door frame. "We got a lead."

Both Catherine and Nick shared a look before following Brass down the hall and to his office. When they all sat down, the older man sighed heavily.

"Well, what's the lead?" The Texan said impatiently.

"Nicky, I have good news and bad news. Good news is, the bartender recognized the men and we put out a BOLO. Surprisingly enough, they were caught trying to cross the Mexican border."

Nick forgot all about the bad news and sighed in relief. Those two bastards were caught and were gonna get an ass-whooping from him before they were thrown in jail. "So Greg's okay, right?"

"That's the bad news; Sanders wasn't in the car with them."

Nick's heart sunk to the floor. There was only one reason why the guys would get rid of Greg. They had killed him and dumped his body in the middle of nowhere to rot. "Oh god. This can't be happening."

"We'll find him, Nick," Jim reassured.

"But what if he's dead! They were just using him as leverage and once they were far enough, they probably put him down like a sick dog! God, this is all my fault." Nick got up and stormed off to the locker room, not wanting to think about anything anymore. Catherine and Brass shared a concerned look, worried about their friend.

"We're tracing the way the two came from and hopefully we'll come across the kid," Brass continued.

Catherine stood up. "Okay…I just hope this is a rescue not a recovery."

"You and me both."

As Catherine walked away, she shed a couple tears and prayed that their Greg would be okay. If they lost Greg to something like this, the blunt of the death and the guilt would destroy the Texan, possibly even kill him. Greg was the little brother Nick sworn to protect. Please be okay, Greg. Just hang on; we're gonna find you.

TBC

Doing another two part story! Stay tuned to see what happens to our poor Greggo! Will he ever get found or will he fall victim to the hot desert?