A/N: Here it is! The rescue! This is a loong and angsty chapter! I worked very hard on it so tell me how much you love me in many reviews!

Chapter 28

Grissom willed the cars to go faster with everything he had. His leg was bouncing uncontrollably, eager to arrive. It would be over soon. All they had to do was rescue Greg and Nick and then it would all be over. The car could never go fast enough for him. It would never be fast enough, getting the isolated house that held Nick and Greg prisoner. His greatest fear was to come to late. They had to be alive, he didn't know what he would do if he didn't find them alive. That would be his ultimate failure in a long line of failings during this case. It would be one he could never face.

He knew that Brass was throwing him concerned glances. They both knew he shouldn't be coming on this raid, but neither had brought up the subject. They both knew it would kill him to stay behind this time. Emotionally involved he was, but he was coming, he had to be there, for Nick, for Greg. It was the least that he could do for them now. The money management had been clever. Fifteen grand every three weeks, delivered in the form of three equal amount checks from three other moles on a rotating basis. You double cross someone and they can keep the portion you were getting. Therefore, no one even thought of double crossing someone. The weakness of the system was that if you found one rat, and you dug deep enough, you could connect them all.

Catherine had done a superb job. After he'd calmed down from his outburst she'd shown him what she found. It had been excellent. It was more than enough to arrest them and get plenty of warrants to dig so much deeper. Much to her dismay he'd given the rest of the task to another CSI, insisting she go home to rest. It had resulted in a much heated argument. The compromise was that she could stay during the interrogations, then she would go home and not come back to work until her medical leave was over. She had grudgingly agreed. He understood her reluctance to give over control of the case to someone else. It had become an extremely personal case for all of them. They all wanted to see it to the finish line personally, but that couldn't happen. Everyone except Grissom was incapacitated, on medical leave, and Gil had proven that he was far too emotionally invested to continue working the case.

He remembered Catherine's actions as each of the traitors was brought out of the interrogation rooms, one by one, on their way to booking. He wished he had joined her, but he'd taken his small reward with Ecklie and knew he should push his luck. Detective Cooper had been brought out first. They didn't know him personally, but that didn't stop Catherine. She stood right in front of him, and issued the world's hardest open handed slap that it reverberated off the walls. The officers escorting Cooper did nothing to stop her. If any of the traitors tried to claim assault, it'd been the unspoken agreement to deny everything. One by one as they came out, she slapped them all. Hodges, Bobby Dawson, Cooper, Ecklie, and Simpson, they all got slapped. Only Kelps escaped a slap, because he was already dead.

He jerked up, sitting as straight and tall as he could in anticipation when he could finally see the house. His hand already gripping the gun. He was urging the car to go faster mentally again. He could never get there fast enough. He prayed that he would find them, alive, that they would both be found alive. It was his only wish. Just let them be alive, just let them be alive, just let them be alive. It was his mental mantra, a link to sanity and reality. A goal to be reached that allowed him to remain in control of his emotions. The car barely skidded to a stop before he was out and running, the officers barely staying ahead of him. He was a man on a mission, protocol be hanged, he would go where he wished.

The house was very similar to the one in Frisco, lacking a second story. He remembered that they had found Greg in the basement and headed in that direction, found floor plan was the same. Three officers managed to slip ahead of him on the way down the stairs to his dissatisfaction, but they were moving fast enough for him to compromise. They filed into the basement, a blast of cold air typical for basements, assaulting them. They found someone cuffed to a pillar near the center of the room and guessing by what they could see it was Nick. James was crouching in front of him over Nick's legs, dragging a wicked knife down his chest, drawing blood. He had a solid hand gripping a handful of Nick's hair holding his head up.

"LVPD BACK AWAY FROM HIM!" he whipped around chucking the knife at them. It plunged into the officer standing next to Grissom up, to the hilt with momentum. He cried out, falling backwards, dropping the gun. The officer behind caught him as he fell, quickly lowering him to the floor and worked to slow the bleeding. The officer still standing fired off a shot as James bolted to the wall, satisfied when it hit his shoulder. He crashed into the wall which did a one eighty spin letting him into a secret passage. They heard a thunk and when the officer tried to follow the wall wouldn't move. He was radioing a warning to the other officers but Grissom wasn't listening, his world was focused on Nick. He rushed to kneel next to him gently removing the blindfold.

He appeared to be unconscious, or very close to it. His hair was matted with blood, massive goose eggs visible past the hair. He had a gash over his black eye that was caked with dried blood down the side of his black and blue face. His nose had clearly been broken, dried blood caked over his mouth and chin. The officer gave him baby wipes from where he didn't know, but he made short work of wiping away all the blood. His skin was icy cold and he breathed with a shuddering rasp that was far too shallow. The whole front of his shirt was ripped up and soaked with blood.

Fearful of how much he could be bleeding he finished splitting the shirt in half. He was covered in blood, five very deep slashes across his chest and stomach all oozing blood, some slowly, some not. Every inch of him was either black, blue, or purple, and swollen massively. He shivered violently, getting worse as time went by. Grissom lifted his head to look into his eyes.

"Nick? Nick? Talk to me?" he moaned his eyes fluttering open for a moment than closing again.

"Nicky, come on Nicky, wake up. I need you to wake up." he pleaded. He was so happy when those beautiful browns returned, struggling weakly to stay open. His pupils were severely uneven and hardly responded to the change of light at all. He looked around sluggishly a look of confusion, with glassy eyes.

"Griss?" it was barely a whisper. He wanted to cry at the look of hopeless defeat in his friend's eyes.

"That's right. I'm right here Nicky. It over, it's all over, you're safe." Grissom wasn't sure he'd understood what he said. He slumped against him when the officer finished uncuffing his wrists, limply. He moaned, pain coursing through him from the small movement. It scared him when he saw how heavily Nick's wrists were bleeding. The cuffs had replicated slit wrists, though not quite as bad. He looked and saw that the two officers had a small med kit and the knife had wads of pressure bandages around it, the bleeding slowed tremendously.

"Toss those over quick!" He grabbed a thick roll of gauze and wrapped Nick's wrists with plenty of pressure, layer after layer on the wrists. the blood was soaking through them quickly so he just kept adding layers and pressure, desperate for the red patch to stop growing. Eventually he succeed to slow it enough that he didn't think Nick would bleed out. He was then putting pressure on the gashes on his chest which were the next to be bleeding heaviest. He moaned weakly, struggling to sit up, get away from the painful pressure.

" 'm sorry…sorry…'m sorry…" he mumbled deliriously.

"Why Nicky, you don't have to be sorry, this isn't your fault." Grissom maintain eye contact with a very shocky Nick.

"c-couldn't p-p-protect G-Greg, killed him….they killed him…couldn't protect him…'m sorry…'m sorry…" he rambled incoherently his focus diminishing rapidly. Gil swallowed back a painful lump, tears burning at the corner of his eyes. Greg dead. He'd come too late, he'd failed again. Nick said they'd killed Greg. Please just let him be delirious. He panicked as Nick drifted rapidly towards unconsciousness, his mumblings dying away.

"Nicky, stay with me. I need you to stay awake Nicky." his eyes popped open again sluggishly, settling to the smallest slits. He swallowed convulsively his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

"Wa…wa-water." it was so hard to speak. So tired. Grissom glanced around, spotting an unopened water bottle. He hated the two seconds he wasn't by Nick's side when he grabbed the bottle.

"You probably shouldn't give him water right now." someone suggested meekly. Grissom didn't look to see who.

"I'll only give him enough to wet his mouth." no one said anything to him after that. He was shifting Nick, trying to lean him up against his chest so he would choke when he'd barely brushed against his shoulder when Nick cried out piteously, tears forming ready to fall. Grissom nearly had a heart attack. He grabbed a small pair of scissors out of the med pack and cut away the rest of the shirt. To his horror, Nick's shoulder was misshapen it was so swollen and completely black, the occasional highlight of blue or purple. He switched sides and very cautiously sat Nick up, placing his equally misshapen, nearly crushed hand to rest on his stomach. He moaned and whimpered at the smallest of movements.

He pressed the rim of the bottle to Nick's lips and let a very small amount slosh into his mouth. His reaction was delayed. He tried to swallow but choked on the water, though was hardly anything for him to actually choke on. Grissom started to put the bottle down and not give him more but was stopped.

"More….please…" he probably shouldn't have, but he couldn't have refused no matter what common sense demanded. His heart had melted. What could it hurt to give him a little more? He gave him a little bit more than last time and he seemed to have actually swallowed some successfully before he choked again, coughing weakly. His head lolled against Grissom's chest, losing his grip on consciousness again, his breathing reaching another level of shallow and unsteady.

"Nicky, stay wake. You have to stay awake Nicky."

" 'm s'cold, tired…hurts…so tired…" he was drifted and slurring badly. Grissom realized that his clothes were colder than Nick, not by much, and completely soaked through.

"It's okay Nicky, we'll get you warmed up in no time and make the pain go away."

" s'good" he whispered semi-conscious. He realized what had felt like hours sitting Nick had only been about ten minutes at the most when Brass' voice crackled over the radio.

"Grissom, your needed…it's Sanders." that was all that was said. His heart dropped to his stomach. Probably being called to a dead body according to Nick. He didn't want to leave him. Not in his state, but he had to. He gently lowered him to the floor, pained by his moans of pain. He was about to stand when Nick grabbed his wrist weakly with his uninjured hand, barely able to keep a grip.

"Don't"

"I have to Nick, I'll be back very soon." he wasn't convinced.

"don' go, can't lose Greg and you, can' let you die too…" he mumbled weakly losing his grip on Gil's wrist. He leaned close so Nick could see and hear him.

"I won't die I promise, but I have to go, just for a minute and I'll be right back. I promise." he stood quickly headed for the door but he still heard Nick's last rebuttal.

"Nooo.." he moaned, and then Gil was gone. Like everyone else he cared about.

--oo0oo--

Jim Brass spearheaded the group of officers that hadn't scurried to catch up with Grissom. He's smiled mentally at Gil's sudden disregard for common protocol. Anything other time he would lecture him, and any other CSI that burst from room to room like that before it was cleared by his officers, but not today, today he let Grissom's fervor work for him. He methodically and rapidly went from room to room clearing it without a sign of resistance so far. He wasn't overly surprised since they had suspicion that there were only two suspects still loose. James and one other man they didn't know the identity of. He'd heard a shot fired somewhere else in the house and silently hoped that the gun hadn't been aimed at any of his guys. Whether they be part of the raid or hostage. He charged into another room and found what he wanted.

Greg was in the room, pinned to the wall by a man they didn't recognize, a vicious grip around his neck cutting off all his air. He held onto the wrist with one hand and movements in the shoulder told that his other hand was doing something but Brass couldn't see what. His eyes were screwed shut tightly as he gasped for air.

"LVPD, LET GO OF HIM AND STEP WELL AWAY!" he shouted. Greg's eyes snapped open, without recognition, but the man didn't react. Brass was about to fire off a shot when there was a sudden movement by Greg followed by three successive shots. The man dropped onto his back three closely grouped gun shot wounds to the heart, clearly dead. Greg dropped to his knees the gun still smoking in his hand. He crawled away rapidly swaying as he went, never letting go of the gun. Brass started towards him. He crawled away faster.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Greg screamed. He stopped, putting his hands up to show them empty and of no harm.

"Easy Sanders, you don't need to shoot me." he took a cautious step forward slowly. Greg backed farther away from him.

"STAY AWAY!" Greg was clearly freaked out of rationality.

"Just relax Sanders, it just me, Jim Brass, you're safe now." he took a tentative couple of towards him again.

"GET BACK! STAY WAY STAY AWAY STAY AWAY!" he stopped when he saw the gun, now pointed at him. He called Grissom, and backed out of the room, though still able to see Sanders.

--oo0oo--

My chest was pounding. I couldn't get enough air. I never could get enough air any more. I felt like I was drowning. A fish out of water. My head was spinning, everything was spinning. My world was dark smudges of color that moved and swam about indefinably. I can't tell what is what. Ever since my attempted escape, which I can't remember how it ended or what actually happened, I've been here, lying motionless. They keep coming back at times, shoving something in my mouth and making me swallow. I'm too tired to resist. I don't care anymore. I'm too tired. I don't even know what they are, they can't be all that bad, I'm not in pain. Yes, I have this weird, cold dull ache, but that's not so bad.

I never heard the door open. I never do. I didn't know I wasn't alone until I was moving. I'm too disoriented to tell how. I numbly feel a hand, it's around my throat, and squeezing, hard. The world starts to come back to me. I hadn't realized my eyes had been closed until I opened them to find an unbearably bright world that was strangely blurred. I could see the outline of the man gripping my neck. I think he whispered something into my ear, I couldn't really hear him above the roaring in my ears. I think he said something about having a little fun with me, before giving me my next dose. Whatever that means. My mind blanks after that, I don't remember what happened or if anything happened.

I was aware of something being shoved in my mouth again, I swallowed out of habit without struggle. My mouth felt rough and dry to me and I realize I don't remember ever drinking any water. I can feel the pills going down. Then the grip around my neck is tightening vastly. I can't breathe, I can't get enough air. I can't get any at all. I'm barely aware that I'm pushing weakly at his wrist, I don't know what else to do. I try to move my other hand to do something, it's moving, I just don't know what it's doing. Oh well, doesn't really matter, so long as it's doing something that helps. Then I hear something, it's like a record being scratched with the needle while it's still hooked up to the speakers, except it's in a far deeper tone.

I open my eyes again having not realized they'd closed again, I seen another outline of a person. I don't recognize them. I'm not even sure if it really is a person or if they are really there. The man holding me against the wall didn't react. Another hallucination I think. I've been having a lot of those lately, I wonder why. Suddenly my hand hit something. I never consciously recognized what it was, but I clearly knew what to do. I raised my hand and fired three shots barely aware, not truly knowing what I was doing. I dropped suddenly, landing hard and the pain returned. Why did it have to return? The figure is coming at me. I back away panicked. I don't hear myself yell at it. I don't know who it is and I don't want them anywhere near me. I just want to go home. To be somewhere safe. But I still have the gun, the gun is my only safety now.

I continue to back away, yelling at the person to stay back as they continue to try and get me. My head is pounding so hard. I can breathe, but I can't get enough air. I'm drowning, I'm sure of it. I can feel the world trying to pull me under. I'm just trying to keep my head above water. I try to take a long, deep breath but I feel like I'm suffocating so long when I do that so I revert back to the fast, shallow breaths. I still feel like I'm suffocating, but not so bad. I can feel my very blood surging through my veins, the friction hurts so bad. My heart is pounding, so hard, so fast. Too hard, too fast. It hurts, I just want it all to stop. I see someone else come into the room. There's three of him, one acting normally, but the other two slingshot right through him swiftly, side to side. It scares me and I back into a corner, the cool wall pressed against my hot back. I yell at it to stay away. It stops but it doesn't leave.

I screw my eyes shot and open them again, hoping he's gone, all of him. But instead the other two slingshot front to back through him, right towards me. Frightened when they come close to me I can't help but flinch away. There's no where for me to go. I'm cornered. I have to get away. I have to go home. I don't know why but I'm suddenly laughing hysterically. I can't find anything funny, or even happy, but I'm laughing. Then I'm sobbing, sobbing so hard, and I can't stop. I feel myself pulled under, truly drowning and I can't get up. I don't see the person come closer. I don't feel the gun taken from my numb hand, or the arm wrap around me. The talked to me but I couldn't hear them. Everything hurt, I was so tired. I needed air, I needed more air. I had to get back to the surface, where everything wasn't so heavy, where I could breathe again.

Then four people appeared. The walked straight through the wall and it terrified him, but he couldn't move. Three people came first, the person in the middle was James. He was struggling and screaming. A fourth came, holding their arm with was covered in a bright red. But all his focus was on James, yelling at him. The words echoed, fully understood in his mind. He had to get away, he wasn't safe. Nowhere was safe. He had to go home, he just wanted to go home. He shrank away from James, right into something warm. Not the wall. He didn't know what it was. He sobbed harder as James was led away. He was so afraid. He just wanted to go home. To be safe again. Then James was gone, his horrible voice fading in my ears. It could never go fast enough. I just sat there, curled into myself, making myself as small as I could, longing for home.

I don't know why but I suddenly had to know what was against me that was so warm. I opened my eyes, which had again closed without my knowing, and I found that person that had the two slingshot through him. He was right up against me, and arm around me. I panicked, terrified of this man I didn't know, probably here to hurt my, just like all the others. I screamed and pulled away to quick for them to react. I quickly found another corner. How had they gotten so close without me noticing?

I'm struggling to escape. I have to escape. I try to stand. It's so hard. I'm so heavy, everything is heavy. I can barely move, but I have to. I have to get away. My heart is pound harder and faster, if that's even possible. My world is graying in and out. They're trying to get me again. The gun, where did I put the gun? I have to get away. I need to breathe. I have to get to the surface. I'm drowning. The world is fading. I'm standing now, though I'm not sure how I managed. The wall is all that's holding me up. I have to breathe. I have to get to the surface. I'm drowning.

--oo0oo--

Grissom was quick to find Jim, standing warily outside the door of a room. Watching something, or someone inside like a hawk. He wondered why he was needed. Brass sees him coming and signals for him to approach quietly. He steps a little ways away from the door. He doesn't have his gun out, though his hand does rest upon it. Keeping his voice quiet they talk.

"What is it?"

"Sanders is in there. He won't let anyone near him." Grissom's heart leapt.

"He's alive?"

"You doubted?"

"Nick said they'd killed him." Brass nodded.

"How is Nick?"

"Not good." Grissom approached the door enough to see Greg, barely, he could see half of him.

"Be careful, he got a hold of a gun and is pointing it at everyone that gets too close." Grissom nodded and walked slowly into the room. Greg is sitting in a corner at the farthest wall. He's curled as small as he can get. He's breathing extremely fast and shallow. The sheen of sweat is easy to see. He can see him shaking but his grip on the gun never wavering. His eyes are closed. He takes several fast steps closer at the opportunity. Greg opens his eyes and he stops.

"GET AWAY FROMTH ME!" he's slurring badly, his voice shaking.

"It's okay Greg. I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay." he moves forward a step that can hardly be called a step at all.

"STAYSTH AWAY!" he holds his empty hands up where Greg can see them. Greg is trying to crawl away from him but he's in a corner. He closes his eyes tightly for a moment. Gil moves forward again until Greg opens his eyes again. He flinches back repeatedly as if he were being hit.

"Greg, I need you to calm down okay. No one is going to hurt you but we need you to calm down."

"STAY WAY STAY WAY STAY WAY!" he was breathing faster now.

"Greg, we just want to take you home. You want to go home?" he took a step forward. Greg was pointing the gun at him.

"GET AWAY!" he shrank smaller, his head lolling slightly. Suddenly he was laughing hysterically which quickly switched into uncontrollable sobs. Grissom was afraid for Greg. There was more than just frightened hysterics going on here. He curled, his head on his knees, no longer watching Grissom as he sobbed. Gil took the opportunity and approached Greg without any further resistance. Greg never noticed that he took the gun.

Brass and three officers slipped into the room quietly, James' whereabouts still unknown. Grissom had an arm wrapped around Greg's shoulders, a hand on his head trying to sooth him as he sobbed. He seemed to be oblivious to Grissom's presence. He had his arms pulled in protectively around his waist. They waited silently for the paramedics when suddenly a section of the wall rotated quickly, slamming into one of the officers, dragging him into the secret passage. On the opposite side James appeared, pausing when he saw the crowd. The pause was long enough, the wall hitting him as it continued to rotated and sucked him back into the passage as well.

The two officers gaped for a few seconds then charged through the wall as well. They could hear scuffling on the other side of the wall. Grissom didn't realize that he was holding Greg tighter to him fearfully and Greg was oblivious to everything. There was a moment of silence and then the wall rotated again, slowly this time and remained open. Two agents came out with James cuffed between them, the third agent that had been hit by the way following behind a nasty knot appearing above his eye and large bloody gash running the length of his forearm, grumbling. James spotted Greg and the tirade began.

"YOU LITTLE RAT! IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO I'LL MAKE SURE YOU PAY! YOU'LL REGRET EVER BEING BORN! BY THE TIME I'M THROUGH WITH YOU YOU'LL WISH YOU'D NEVER BEEN BORN!"

That was as far as he got before Brass delivered a beautiful round house punch to his jaw, shutting him up. James was stunned long enough for them to get him out of the room before he began again. Greg trembled, sobbing harder, whimpering, as he coward against Grissom, pushing against him desperately, trying to get away, and began to rock back and forth, his hands clamped over his ears. It was the first he'd reacted to anything around him since Grissom had taken the gun from him.

After a moment or two when James was finally too far to be heard, Greg poked his head up shakily as if to check if he was still safe. For the first time he noticed Grissom's presence. He jolted back with a scream, crawling away too fast for Grissom to stop him. Instantly he was in the corner across from him, struggling to stand. Gil was up in an instant following after him. He was shaking uncontrollably held up by the wall, watching Griss like a dangerous predator. He slurred something, barely a whisper, but it was entirely incoherent. Grissom panicked when his eyes rolled back and he pitched forward limply, unconscious.

He caught him and gently lowered him back to the floor, lying him on his back. The first thing he did was check his pulse. It was unimaginably fast, too fast to count, weak, and erratic. His breathing was just as fast, shallow, and unsteady. He was covered in sweat. Gil peeled back his eyelids to find his pupils like saucers, expanded to their largest size and glassy. He'd known that something else was going on, now he knew.

"He's been drugged. Where are those paramedics." the last question was snapped impatiently. As if on command they appeared, shoving him out of their way. Greg remained unresponsive to everything. He was quickly loaded on to a gurney, strapped down gently and wheeled out. It was at this moment that Gil realized he would have to pick who he would ride with. Nick or Greg?

He didn't want to chose, he wanted to go with both, but he couldn't. He had enough time to look in on Nick before he had to decide. The paramedics around him were trying to get him onto the gurney but he was struggling against them in a panic. He swatted at one of them with his broken hand. The paramedic wasn't quite quick enough to avoid the feeble attack and Nick screamed as pain shot through his hand. Decision made. He quickly went to Nick, kneeling beside him.

"Nicky, calm down, these people are going to help you." the paramedics stepped back for a moment while Grissom tried to calm down their patient. Nick looked around sluggishly and confused, searching for the new, familiar voice. It was a voice that meant safety, he was sure of it.

"Griss?" it was barely a whispered.

"I'm right here Nicky. You need to let them help you. I promise, I won't leave again. I'm right here." That did the trick. Nick visibly deflated. If Grissom said it was safe, then it was. He felt the world starting to slip away from him and he let it go, Grissom was here, he was safe again. He didn't have to be scared anymore.

"Nicky, stay wake." his eyes dragged open again. He was moving, upward it felt like. Then it leveled off for a while. He felt like he was floated. He was so tired and cold. Everything hurt. He just wanted to sleep. Gil watched Nick like a hawk as the headed towards the door. He could see him drifting, barely gripping consciousness. They stepped outside and were immediately assaulted by icy sheets of rain. Nick was instantly whimpering, desperately trying to sit up and escape. Grissom cursed every drop of rain and molecule of cloud. They loaded quickly into the ambulance and he sat at Nick's head.

Nick still fighting to get away, head tossing side to side weakly, struggling to sit up, only to be pushed back down. Grissom put a hand on Nick's forehead gently. The action drew his attention away from the struggles as he looked around confusedly for the cause of the contact. He fought so hard to stay awake. He was so tired. The world was so blurry, he couldn't tell who these people around him were. He felt the panic rising as they continued there activities and the pain rose twice as fast as the panic.

Gil swore at how cold Nick's skin felt against his hand. He should be shivering but he wasn't, he hardly moved at all. His eyes wandered sluggishly, all recognition of those around him was gone. The paramedics were working furiously on him. He was glad at Nick's lack of awareness when they stripped him of his clothes completely and put on a fresh boxers that were a tad bit small. He felt the thrill of horror as he saw Nicks knee, swollen to nearly four times the regular size, misshapen so that his leg had to set at an awkward angle and black like his shoulder. There was a definable pattern of purple highlights and as Grissom looked at it closely, he realized with rage that the purple was the bruise replica of a boot print.

Nick was suddenly panicking again, fighting against them, trying to escape from their administrations, looking about as wildly as his sluggish reactions would allow. He mumbled and moaned beneath the oxygen mask giving him heated air.

"Shh…it's okay Nicky, they're just trying to help, shh….it's okay. It's over, it's over." he calmed again, his eyes on Grissom unfocused. The effort it took to keep them open was clear.

"Griss?"

"I'm here Nicky, I'm here." he was staring at Grissom fearfully as if he would suddenly disappear if he looked away.

"th' sai' they wouldn' kill me..said they keep me round for years…"

"Shhh…it's okay, it's over Nicky, it's over."

"was so scared….hurt….so bad….scared." he was fading fast. The medics said to keep him awake. I'm trying! Can't you see I'm trying!

"It's okay Nicky, it's over, you're safe now, you're safe."

"hurtsth,…scared…don' go…"

"It's okay, I won't leave, you're safe, you don't have to be scared anymore, it's over." he wiped away the tears that Nick cried shamelessly, too tired and weak to hold them back. A nurse was examining his knee, grabbing a portable x-ray machine, practically letting it hover over the knee but the pain flared to such an intensity he hadn't felt before. Nick screamed, jerking up a few inches off the gurney, the tears flooding free, and fell back to the gurney, eyes rolling into the back of his head unconscious. They all paused, stunned. Grissom bristled but the knee had to be examined, they all knew it, so with extreme care, they continued their work. Nick continued to whimper and cry as they worked but never truly regained consciousness.

When they arrived at the hospital, it was never too soon. Grissom had half listened to the medics telling each other, only catching snatches. Words like hypothermia, punctured lung, this or that broken, collapsed lung, and blood loss. None of it had context to him. He simply watched Nick, keeping a hand on his forehead, continuing the contact that had kept Nick calm. He followed quickly into the hospital and when a nurse went to stop him from following past that red line, he never gave her a chance.

"I don't care what you say, I'm staying." the nurse looked at the lead doctor for help. It was the same doctor that Grissom had requested for the rest of his team.

"Leave him be." she gave him a hard look after addressing the surprised nurse. "the moment you get in our way you leave. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly." he followed where ever they took Nick, never getting in the way. As he stood in the operating room, watching Nick fearfully, the victory of finding them marred severely by their mental and physical conditions, he realized just how broken his team was right now. No one was paying attention to him and he was glad as the emotions finally escaped utterly silent. Gil Grissom finally cried.

A/N: I do love good angst. What'd ya think?