A/N: Well, here we are for another bout of the old angst :) Sorry for the delay, back at work now and Twos the season and all that. Now it's 2014…I think…lol, and the start of a new year. Evil hat thinks it's going to be a good year.

My thanks as always for the reviews and to Calim for the super beta. A few changes on this one from the original draft so hopefully, it makes sense. If not, blame the hat.

So, let's see if Nick's got himself in a pickle and how Grissom's going to react when his hands are revealed… mwahahaha!

Chapter 52

Nick was literally thrown out into the corridor by a very unhappy supervisor and the CSI almost lost his balance, turning to glare at his boss while attempting to catch his breath. He was fuming.

"What the hell are you doing?" Russell demanded. "Don't you think I've got enough to think about rather than…"

The door burst open and Russell didn't have chance to finish before the bailiffs approached, Ecklie nipping at their heels.

"Judge Bishop wants to see you, Stokes, right now," the larger of the two men ordered.

Swiping a hand across his forehead, Nick gawked at the two men, still trying to catch his breath. "For what?" he snapped.

Instantly, the men reached to their holsters and Ecklie stepped in the middle. "No need for that," he said quickly giving Nick his attention. "You better go…"

Nick sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, realizing exactly what he'd done. "Fine," he mumbled, stepping towards the men who were quick to escort him back into the courtroom.

"Great!" Russell moaned sarcastically, throwing up his arms.

A few seconds after Nick had been taken the rest of the team emerged from the courtroom.

"Where are they taking Nick?" Greg asked as he reached his boss.

Russell worked his jaw. "Take a guess…"

"They arrested him?" Finn questioned.

"I don't know."

"Are you okay?" she asked. He just looked at her and she held up a hand. "Yeah, silly question, I know, but we can't dwell on this, it's done. Where do we go from here?"

Sighing, he stepped closer but, before he could answer, the DA and his people emerged from the courtroom. Jack immediately approached Russell. He did not look amused.

"You better get me what I need, Russell," he growled, staring the supervisor right in the eye. "Because of your people, I look incompetent and I really don't like that."

Russell felt his nostrils flare but again Ecklie stepped in to be peacemaker, focusing his attention on the DA. "We'll get what's needed," he responded.

Glancing around at everyone, Jack curled his lip before looking back to the sheriff. "You better. Call me later. I can't stand to be near any of you right now…" With that, he stormed off, his team quickly scurrying behind.

"I don't appreciate that," Russell said to Ecklie. "Does he have any idea how hard we worked on this?"

"Well, hard work doesn't set convictions, does it?" Ecklie countered. "I told you it was a mistake keeping Sara on this as long as you did."

"Don't blame her," Russell spat. "You would have done the same and you damn well know it. And no one predicted Grissom wouldn't be able to give a statement or that Sara's would be brought into question…"

"Um…fella's…" Brass interrupted, "…don't you think we should be getting what the judge wants rather than standing here bickering?"

Although Brass didn't show it, he was pissed off Basderic had played him and that's exactly what he'd done and he'd fallen for it. There was nothing he could do about it now but he could damn well make sure they got the evidence required to take the bastard down.

"He's right," Greg said, glancing around. Anger and arguments weren't going to get them anywhere. It was just going to break up the team.

Running a heavy hand over his chin, the supervisor gave a nod. Greg was right and he knew it.

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Ushered into the judge's chambers by the bailiffs, Nick stood silently until Bishop looked up from his desk. As the older man removed his glasses and glared the CSI down, he squirmed a touch. The last thing he wanted was to be thrown in jail. How could he help nail Basderic if that happened?

"Do you enjoy making a mockery out of my courtroom, Mr. Stokes?

"No, Sir."

Do you like disrespecting me?" Bishop then asked.

The CSI shook his head. "No, Sir."

"Then why did you?"

"I was upset," Nick admitted. "Angry."

Bishop ran his tongue across his bottom lip, leaning forwards. "You are a professional. Or, at least, you are supposed to be and when I ask you to do something in my court of law, I expect you to do it."

"Yes, your honor," Nick replied, bowing his head. "I apologize."

"I am not a heatless man," Bishop continued, "and I can appreciate your frustrations, but I am here to ensure the law is met in totality no matter how harsh you feel the decisions may be. A man is innocent until proven guilty. Lack of evidence does not prove guilt. You as well as anyone should know that."

"You didn't see what I did," Nick mumbled thinking back to the bunker.

"What was that?"

Nick shook his head again. "Nothing."

Bishops eyes narrowed. "Do not ever question my judgments. Do I make myself clear?"

Nick nervously cleared his throat. "Yes, your honor."

The judge gave a nod but continued. "So be very clear…the next time you decide to cuss in my courtroom or ignore my requests, I will throw you in a cell so fast your feet won't even touch the ground."

"It won't happen again, your honor," the CSI said, trying to sound sincere.

"It better not," Bishop responded and nodded towards the door. "If you're quick enough you might catch your team."

Looking to each of his minders, Nick swallowed hard. "I can go?"

"Yes," Bishop answered, sitting back. "Get out of my sight…"

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"We're wasting time by standing here," Finn said to Russell as the clock ticked on. "Why don't some of us…" She was cut short when Nick emerged from the courtroom looking a little flushed.

"He let you go?" Greg asked as Nick joined the group, pulling open the top button on his shirt to pull off his tie.

"Well spotted," Nick responded sarcastically.

"You're lucky," Ecklie said. "Bishop doesn't normally appreciate disorder in his courtroom."

"Yeah well…" Nick thrust his tie into his pocket, "…maybe he knows we're right and he wants to give us a chance. And, I'm sorry…" He looked each of his colleagues in turn. "I know I screwed up."

Russell stepped right up to his worker and he didn't look happy. "Maybe next time you'll think a little more before you fly off the handle."

Nick gave a long sigh and a nod. "Yeah. Sorry…"

"Okay. What's done is done. Now we move forward and we get that evidence. Finn, Nick, Greg, get back to the estate and get me something from that bunker."

"You got it," Nick replied and the CSI's were away not wasting another second.

"Might be an idea for you to go with them, Jim," Ecklie recommended. "If Jack ends up back at PD, he may not be thrilled to see you."

Brass just gave a nod and followed the team. He'd take great pleasure in finding the nail for Basderic's coffin.

"Morgan," Russell continued, "get back to the lab. Go through everything, again…Two, three, four times if you have to. We could have missed something and we might have new stuff from Basderic's, the estate, or Joan Colliers'."

"I'll come with you and then I can get others to help," Ecklie sighed. "Go wait at my car."

"Sure," Morgan said quietly, stepping away from her boss and father.

"What about you?" Ecklie asked.

Russell gave an agitated shrug. "Someone needs to tell Sara."

Ecklie slipped his hands into his pockets. "She may very well lose it."

"Can you blame her? The man who crippled her husband and tried to kill both of them has been set free…" Suddenly Russell frowned.

"What?"

"He's going to be out on the street soon. And there is still one person that could send him down…"

Ecklie understood immediately. "Grissom…"

"Yeah." Russell's eyes worked in circles for a moment. "He could get his memory back and if he does, Basderic is finished."

"We need to put a guard on his door," Ecklie suggested.

"You're reading my mind," Russell replied.

"I'll call Brass and get something sorted."

Russell pulled his car keys from his pocket. "Basderic won't be out for a few hours so give me enough time to tell Sara, okay? If she sees a cop at his door, she'll know something's going on."

"Okay."

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Sara kept a tender grip on Grissom's arm as the doctors clustered around the foot of the bed all glancing at his hands. All aspects of what was about to happen had been explained to him and he'd been relatively calm while listening. One thing that stuck in his head was the sooner they got on with their tests the sooner they could take another step toward saving his hand. So, he was ready to do whatever was necessary. The first step was about to begin and two orderly's entered, coming to move him down to the plaster room to have his casts removed. He knew he'd have to be conscious in order to have the tests afterwards and although he was trying to be strong, he was scared to death.

Donald gave the two men a nod and approached Sara. "Are you ready?" he asked Grissom as Sara stood.

Grissom took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be, I guess…"

Sara gave him a smile and his arm a gentle squeeze. "You'll be okay," she whispered, stepping back as the orderlies took off the bed brakes and began wheeling him from the room.

They reached the fracture room quickly and two nurses followed the group in. Placing Grissom in the corner between two units, a scurry of activity began as a trolley was pushed up to the bed housing the tools needed to remove the plaster as well as several large pieces of covered foam. Grissom looked nervous and Sara noticed.

"Keep calm sweetheart, okay?" she requested softly, propping her crutches against the wall before looking down at him.

He swallowed hard but gave a nod.

Donald took something from the nurse and approached the bed, holding it up for them to see.

"What's that for?" Sara asked when she saw it was a mask.

"As you are susceptible to having seizures, Gil, we think it best if you don't see your hands right now. The stress could kick off an attack and that would delay us."

Swallowing hard again, Grissom's chest tightened as he looked toward his hands, jumping when Sara touched his cheek.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," she tried to reassure as he glanced at her. "I think this is the best idea," she advised gently.

Saying the words was easy but, deep inside, she was pretty damned scared about seeing his hands, although she'd never admit it.

"Okay…" he breathed quietly.

Sara reached up for the mask. "Let me?"

Donald gave her a smile, handing it over. "Sure."

Looking into her husband's eyes she could see the fear building. With a gentle smile she carefully lifted his head and slipped the mask over his eyes, brushing her thumb over his forehead.

"Could you just stand aside just a little, Sara, while we remove the casts? You can stay close but we need a little room to move."

"I'd rather stay with him," she argued placing her hand gently on the top of his head.

The doctor gave a light sigh. "It won't be for long," he assured. "This part is pretty hands on so we just need that extra space to maneuver."

Sara puffed out her cheeks but gave a reluctant nod, taking a few steps back to where Peter joined her. She wasn't all that happy about leaving him though. Louis and the two orthopedic nurses stepped up, one waited while the other took the two pieces of foam and placed them at either side of Grissom. Sara frowned, trying to figure out what they were doing then realized his arms would be placed on them. At least, that's what she thought.

"Right, Gil…" Donald began as one nurse reached for the sling fastenings, "…were going to remove your right arm from the sling first. It will be placed on the foam bedding to provide you with as much comfort as we can, all right? But, you must keep absolutely still at all times, especially while were cutting and also after your casts have been removed. Do you understand?"

Grissom cleared his throat. "Yes," he replied.

Donald gave a smile then reached for Grissom's right arm, giving a nod to the nurse. Unclipping the sling holders, she carefully released his arm from the pouch.

Feeling a sharp pull all the way through his arm, Grissom winced, clenching his eyes tightly together.

"Nice and still, Gil…" Donald directed, feeling his patient's movement as they very slowly lowered his arm onto the padding.

Sara held her breath until his arm was safely down and released.

"How does that feel, Gil?" Donald asked. "Are you comfortable?"

Grissom took a breath then licked his lips. "Bit weird but…yeah, it's okay."

"Good," the doctor said moving around the bed to the left hand side and they did exactly the same with his left arm, carefully lowering it from the sling.

Sara nervously nibbled on her thumbnail as the nurses moved back, reaching to the trolley. One picked up the cast cutter while the other grabbed a marker pen and began drawing a black line down the center of his cast. This was where things could get painful and she knew it.

Placing his hand softly on Grissom left shoulder, Donald leaned over his patient. "We're going to start cutting the casts now. The saw is going to sound very loud, Gil, and you may feel warmth from the friction along with a vibration. Just keep nice and calm and very still and this should all go smoothly."

"I get it…" Grissom mumbled.

Donald gave his staff a nod and the saw was started.

Both Grissom and Sara jumped at the noise. Donald wasn't kidding when he said it was going to be loud.

"Nice and still, Gil…" Donald repeated, keeping his grip on Grissom's shoulder. His arm was carefully lifted by the second nurse as the first went in with the saw.

For some reason, Sara found she couldn't watch. Of all the things she'd seen in her life, she couldn't seem to stand there and observe her husband having a cast removed. Whether it was the terrified look on his face, the high pitched screech from the saw, the cracking that sounded the second the saw hit the plaster or the sheer fear she felt for him possibly having a panic attack. She figured it was all of them.

The nurse was swift but careful as she scored down both sides of the cast and Grissom could feel his teeth gritting at the uneasy sensation. Once happy she'd cut through the plaster enough, the nurse gently pressed down on the crack to double check there weren't any hard parts that needed an extra slice.

"All good," she said and Grissom's arm was placed back onto the padding.

Donald nodded, glancing back down to his patient. "You doing all right, Gil?"

Grissom blew out a breath and slowly nodded.

"We'll cut the second cast before we remove them, okay? It will be more comfortable for you than having your right hand exposed while we cut the left plaster."

Grissom gave another nod and the nurses moved around to repeat the process on the left arm, Donald now shifting to the right hand side of the bed. The same amount of care was taken as the cast was sliced and once the announcement came that they were done, Sara finally opened her eyes and returned her attention to the bed, stepping closer.

She could see sweat brimming on her husband's forehead but knew the most crucial part was coming - the exposure of his hands.

"Gil…" Donald began, "…we're going to take the casts completely off now. This will work by placing a spreader into the plaster and prying it open. We should be able to pop them off then. Do you understand?"

The former CSI could feel his heart pounding in his ears. Nervous wasn't even a word to describe how he felt. It was so much worse than that. Mentally…he needed something to calm him and he cursed to himself when he realized he'd usually flex his fingers in and out when he required himself to relax. At that point in time he couldn't even hold his wife's hand let alone flex anything.

Donald's brow furrowed when Grissom didn't answer him. "Gil?" he asked, resting hand on his shoulder again.

The beating in his ears grew louder, faster and, although his eyes were covered, he felt like he was spinning. It was as if the entire bed was moving and the slight patch of sweat that had blossomed on his forehead quickly grew, forcing droplets of perspiration down his cheeks.

The doctor felt him tense and shot a look to one of the nurses. "Mild sedative," he said. "Right now…"

Nodding quickly the nurse retrieved a vial and syringe from the unit on the wall.

]

"Keep calm, Gil…" Donald urged, maintaining the gentle pressure on Grissom's shoulder. "Just take some deep breaths…nice and easy…" He looked over his shoulder to watch as the nurse prepared the injection.

"He's panicking…" Sara mumbled with worry in her voice.

"Yeah, he's tensing up," Peter whispered. He kept his voice as low as possible in order to keep his words from reaching Grissom. "He's being given something to try and calm him down."

Sara felt her own heart beating a little faster than it should. "Is that a good idea if he has to do tests?" she argued, giving Peter her attention. "Will he be alert enough?"

Peter crossed his arms on a nod. "If he calms down, yes, as he's only being given just enough to, hopefully, settle his heartbeat. If we don't give him this he may very well have a seizure and, if he doesn't calm, we may need to sedate him totally before he gives himself one anyway. And that would delay the tests, so we don't really want that."

Sara knew she shouldn't have left his side and knew he needed her. Although she hadn't been asked, she stepped back up to the bed and Donald looked over to her. He knew what she was doing and just gave her a nod. She could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest as panic gripped him. His lips were parted, hurried breaths coming from within. Slowly, and being very careful of his hand, she leaned in towards his ear.

"Gil, I'm right here," she whispered, running gentle fingers through his hair when he acknowledged her presence with a tiny whimper.

"Just going to give you an injection in your right arm, Gil, to calm you down a bit, all right?" Donald informed his patient. "It will be quicker than going through the IV so you might feel a bit of a scratch."

Grissom wasn't even given the chance to object and was quickly pricked with the needle. He did moan at the stab and that actually gave all three doctors a small smile. At least he could feel his arm. But their smiles didn't last long since his breathing remained heavy and the sweating continued. The drug would take a little longer to work than the stronger ones, so they just had to wait.

"I know you're scared, but you need to breathe and calm yourself down," Sara said softly.

"I…can't…help it," he said breathlessly. "I feel…so damn helpless…"

"I know," she soothed, continuing to stroke his hair. "But I also know you want these tests done, so just relax…the shot should take effect soon…and then you'll feel a little better. Nice…slow, deep breaths, just like before, do you remember?"

He didn't reply but gradually managed to control his breathing.

"That's it," Sara encouraged noticing he was calming. "Do you have a tissue?" she asked Donald, holding out her free hand.

"Umm, yeah…" Donald reached to the table behind him and pulled out of a couple of Kleenex, handing them to her.

"Thanks," she replied dabbing Grissom's cheeks and forehead in an attempt to soak up the sweat. "You feeling a little better now?" she whispered.

Drawing his tongue over his bottom lip he gave a nod. "Yeah…little sleepy…"

"Well, don't be going to sleep just yet," she said quickly but a little more chirpily. "Once the tests are done, you can have a nice long nap."

"Hmmm…" he mumbled, his head lolling to the side.

Sara smiled a touch knowing he was definitely more relaxed. "Are you ready to carry on now?"

He took a breath and gave another nod.

"Okay…" Donald said. "Let's get these casts off shall we?"

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Despite his confession and subsequent retraction, the numerous crime scenes associated with the Basderic case were, thankfully, still locked down so nothing had been tainted. As many hands available were sent back to the still sealed off locations – Maggie Williams' apartment, Tom Draper's house, Ronald Basderic's and the estate. And that's where the CSI's once again found themselves.

Their SUV moved up the driveway at the Hicks estate, Finn glancing at the house. CCTV cameras caught her eye and her brain began to work. There'd been computers down in the bunker.

"You know…" she began, shuffling a bit to face Nick who was driving, "…we're still missing something…"

"I'd say were missing a lot," he replied flatly.

"Computers…"

Nick frowned. "Huh?" he asked, giving her a quick glance.

Finn held up her hand, rocking in her seat as the car jolted over a bump on the road. "Sara said in her statement that Basderic had played a big role in destroying her marriage."

"He tried to…" Greg corrected her from the back seat.

"Fine," she said rolling her eyes. "He tried to. Sara mentioned emails and that he was intercepting them and he sent Grissom the pictures of her and Wynard…"

"So?" Nick shrugged.

"So, where did he do that from? Where's his laptop?" Finn continued.

Thinking for a second, Nick scratched the top of his head. "We haven't found one."

"No, we haven't but there were computers down in the bunker. There could have been a laptop as well or maybe he just used one of those…"

"Where are you going with this?" Nick asked, spotting the demolished barn in the distance.

Finn sighed. Was no one thinking today? "Basderic denied knowing Grissom, not having any contact with him. We find the source where he sent the emails from and those pictures…"

"It gives us a link," Greg interrupted.

"And makes Basderic a lying son-of-a-bitch," Nick finished.

Now Finn smiled, pulling out her phone. "Glad you worked it out."

"Who you calling?" Nick questioned.

"Morgan," she answered, hitting call.

"Yeah?" Morgan answered.

"Where are you?" Finn asked.

"On route back to the lab."

"Good," Finn said "When you get back would you check Grissom's things? There was a laptop in his luggage. We didn't bother looking through it because we didn't know we had to."

"Okay…What am I looking for?"

"Any link to Basderic. You will need to get into his email. Look for anything that links back to what Basderic might have sent about Sara. Anything he might have stored and received from here in Vegas or anything he replied to."

"All right. I'll give you a call if I find anything. Is that all? Anything else you need?" Morgan asked.

"No, that's it for now."

"Okay. I'll talk to you in a bit." Morgan hung up and Finn slipped her cell away.

Greg leaned through the gap in the center of the vehicle. "How is that going to help us? I doubt Basderic signed the email or used ronaldbasderic . It's not that much help unless we find the computer that sent it."

Nick pulled the truck to a stop outside the crime tape.

Finn narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, let's find it."

Nick didn't feel all that hopeful about that. "The computers down there might be fried. It was pretty messy…"

"We'll, it's worth a shot," she responded. "The memories could still be intact."

"We'd be better trying to find the sim trigger for the bombs…" Greg muttered.

Both Nick and Finn turned to stare at him. "Say that again," Nick requested.

"You know, Nick…" Greg continued, "…Like the McCann case a few years ago, when we traced the phone that set off the bomb at the funeral because we found the sim? If Basderic detonated those bombs from his cell, the sim card will tell us because it will match his cell number if he made the call."

"Genius," Nick said albeit blankly.

Greg blinked. "Thanks."

They all suddenly jumped when Brass tapped on the window. "Are we doing this today or what?" he asked through the glass.

"Yeah!" Nick shouted, looking back to Greg and Finn. "Let's go, we've got some evidence to find…"

A/N: I bet you love it where I stop, don't you? :-P Damn, I feel for Griss. Poor baby. And he's only been through the easy part. What about Mr. B? Is he going to be on the hunt? Tick…tock…the clock is ticking….