XXIV - HEARTBEAT
Off to Grissom's left, Nick and Warrick saw Greg collapse. Grissom was hollering for someone to call the paramedics, frantically feeling for a pulse. He could feel the blood rushing through his head.
"What the hell did you do to Greg!" he demanded, picking Oscar up by his shirt and shaking him. "What did you do to him!"
Behind him, he felt Warrick place a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Nick, buddy. Easy. Don't give him any reason to press charges."
With a disgusted sigh and another shake, Nick lowered his arms, pushing Oscar at Warrick. "Keep him away from me, then." He turned to look again at Greg's prone form. Sara and Catherine were beside Grissom now, Catherine holding Greg's limp hand in her own; Sara sitting with Greg's head in her lap, brushing the hair from his forehead. Grissom was still monitoring Greg's pulse, his face a mask of frustration and fear.
All around the stage, people were muttering. The crush of people hadn't dissipated, as everyone wanted to see what was going on - like rubber- neckers at the scene of a car accident. Brass came over to him. "Nick. We need to close off the stage, before we loose any evidence. I want everyone that was up here brought in for questioning. Police are on their way. So are the paramedics."
Nick looked at Brass blankly, before giving himself a mental shake. "Yes, Brass. I'm on it."
Numbly, with the help of a couple of the bouncers, Nick quickly set up a perimeter and moved the band members and various stage hands out of it. With strong exhortations for them to wait for the police in the charge of the bouncers, he quickly went back to the stage. The paramedics had arrived, and were easing Greg onto a stretcher. Their movements were precise and professional, but hurried.
As they placed him on the stretcher, Nick could hear the clipped questions they were directing at Grissom.
"What happened?"
"I don't know. He just - collapsed."
"Has he taken anything tonight - any type of drug or stimulant?"
"No. He's a CSI - we're here working a case. He doesn't do drugs."
The smaller of the two paramedics was checking Greg's eyes, the shiny beam pointed right at the pupil. "No dilation, Stan."
"How long has his pulse been erratic like this?"
Grissom looked at his watch. "About 10 minutes."
"Has he responded to anything - voices, external stimuli - since he collapsed?"
Grissom shook his head mutely. "What's going on? Is he going to be all right?"
The paramedic shrugged. "We'll do what we can. But we don't know what we're dealing with here. You say he hasn't taken anything tonight, so we're working blind. The best thing we can do is get him to the hospital. Do you have his medical information?"
"It's on file at the office. I'll call - have someone send it over."
"Who's his next of kin?"
The question shook Grissom. He couldn't respond. Nick stepped forward.
"I am - we are. He doesn't have any family except us." His voice was choked with emotion. The paramedic nodded, making notes on his file.
"Okay then. Is someone coming with us in the ambulance?"
Grissom and Nick looked at each other. "You go, Nick. I'll stay here and process the scene. We'll be there as soon as we can."
Nick nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Grissom." He looked at Sara, Catherine and Warrick, who were all standing uselessly around the paramedics, their expressions grim. "I'll call. As soon as I find anything out, I'll call."
* * * * *
After Greg was wheeled out, Grissom turned and walked angrily towards Brass. "We need to talk to Oscar right away, but I have to process the scene. Can you take him back and throw him in the cage for a while? I don't want anyone talking to him until I can figure out what the hell happened."
Brass nodded grimly. "We can hold him, but not indefinitely. Grissom, are you sure Greg's clean?"
"Of course I'm sure, Brass." Grissom snapped. "Greg does not do drugs." He walked over to Oscar, who was standing with a police officer on either side of him. "I don't know what you did to him, you little punk, but I'll find out."
Oscar looked at Grissom emotionlessly. "I didn't do anything to him." He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Greg did it all to himself."
* * * * *
For the second time in three shifts, Sara was processing an empty bar. "I don't understand what happened!" She muttered, as she looked around the stage. "One minute he was fine, the next he was down."
Grissom was standing in the middle of the room, scowling, as he replayed the 5 minutes before Greg's collapse over and over in his mind. "He only came into direct physical contact with Oscar twice at most that I saw. Once - maybe - when he sat down behind the drums. Oscar was right behind him. The second time was when he finished drumming and handed back the drumsticks. Oscar clapped him on the shoulder."
Warrick's eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Grissom's words. "I saw that too. Greg winced." He strode quickly to the back of the drum kit. "Nick was on the stage by then, and he pulled Greg over to the side here. Oscar had sat down on the drum stool, and Nick grabbed him, reaching over like this." Warrick demonstrated. He looked at Grissom. Sara and Catherine had stopped what they were doing and stepped closer, a growing understanding dawning in their eyes.
Grissom nodded. "Oscar drugged him with something. Greg is having a reaction. Where would he have put the syringe?"
Warrick went down to his knees, until he was eye-level with the drum stool. He looked into the bass drum, scanning his flashlight carefully around the interior. "Nothing here."
Sara had moved to his side. "Could he have tossed it without anyone noticing? Into the back stage area?" Her light was flashing along the floor, into the corners. Grissom shook his head.
"It's a possibility. Or, he could still have it on him, somewhere. I better call Brass and warn him. They need to check him out." He quickly pulled out his cell-phone.
Warrick was still on his knees behind the drum set, tentatively running his hand over and under the stool seat.
"Careful, Warrick." Catherine had joined Sara in her slow search of the back of the stage. "If he's hidden it in the seat, you don't want to get pricked."
Warrick shrugged to indicate he had heard her, still carefully running his fingers over the vinyl. "Nothing." He finally sighed in disgust.
The snap of Grissom's cell phone made him jump. He looked at Grissom questioningly. "Spoke with Brass. They're going to search him as soon as they get back to the station. If Oscar did drug him we need to find that syringe. It will help if we know what Greg's fighting against."
Warrick had picked up the drumsticks and was carefully examining them. They had been sitting on top of the one of the drums, where Oscar had placed them as Nick grabbed him. Slowly standing, he pushed the bar stool out of his way, tapping a couple of the drums lightly. He stepped on the foot trap and opened up the cymbals to see if the syringe was in there. Again, nothing.
"You guys having any luck?"
Sara and Catherine grunted a negative. "I wish Nick would call and tell us what's going on." Sara's voice was worried.
"He will. Give him time - they probably only just got to the hospital." Catherine's voice was reassuring. Warrick turned back to the drum set. With the tip of the drum stick, he began lifting the soft vinyl covers that covered several of the drum skins. "Bingo!"
"Grissom, guys - I found it. Bring the camera." Warrick smiled grimly as Grissom approached him. There, sharp end poking slightly into the skin on a jumbo snare drum, a small syringe had been hidden under the dampener.
The two men looked at in with distaste as Sara approached with the camera and started taking pictures. "Okay, let's get this back to the lab and see what we can get from it. There're definitely going to be fingerprints 'cuz he didn't have gloves on. Let's hope we can get a toxicology report, ASAP."
* * * * *
Nick waited anxiously in the waiting room off of emergency. He was pacing restlessly. On the drive over to the hospital, Greg had been hooked up to oxygen and a heart monitor. Nick, who was not a doctor, knew enough to realize that the irregular blipping was not a good sign.
They had made it to the hospital in record time, rushing through the emergency room doors. Nick had immediately been ushered into the small waiting room, and had been there ever since. He had no idea what was going on, and it was killing him.
"Mr. Stokes?" A strong voice broke into his restless thoughts, and he stopped pacing.
"Yes?"
"I'm Dr. Jansen. I have a few questions for you about Greg."
Nick nodded. "How is he? Is he alright?"
The doctor sighed. "He's still unconscious. We received his medical information from the police station via fax about 10 minutes ago. I understand he was working when he collapsed?"
Nick nodded in assent.
"His boss was there, is that correct?"
Nick nodded again.
"Strictly between you and I, are you positive he didn't take any drugs this evening? He's exhibiting all the classic signs of a drug overdose."
Nick bristled. "Greg's a responsible guy. He's the best chemist we have at CSI, and there's no way he would ever take drugs. We see too many cases where drugs are one of the contributing factors - there's just no way."
"Okay. Could someone have slipped something to him without his knowledge - in a drink perhaps?"
Nick shook his head. "I was with him from the time we arrived until he collapsed. He didn't have anything to drink - not even a water. What's wrong with him?"
"His heartbeat is very irregular, blood pressure low. We're getting no pupil dilation and limited reflex. But I hesitate treating him until we can pinpoint the problem. If it is drugs -" he held up his hand as Nick started to interrupt him - "if it is drugs, I don't want to give him anything that could react negatively. That would just exacerbate the situation. We're trying to get his blood pressure stabilized now, level out his heart beat. If we don't, I'm afraid he'll go into cardiac arrest. We're running a blood test - see if we can find anything."
Nick stared at Dr. Jansen in shock, tears filling his eyes. Before he could respond, his cell phone started ringing. He looked at the doctor blankly. "Excuse me for a minute, it's probably our boss." He quickly flipped his open. "Stokes here."
"Nick. It's Sara. How's Greg?" Nick could feel her concern through the phone, and a fresh wave of tears filled his eyes.
"It's not looking good, Sara. They're having problems stabilizing him - his blood pressure is really low, and his heartbeat is irregular. I'm just talking to the doctor now. Can I call you back?"
"Nick - we found a syringe. We're headed back to the lab to check it out. Tell the doctor it looks like he was drugged. We're going to run a Tox. Report right away - I'll call as soon as I know." Her voice was choked. "Tell me he's going to be alright, Nicky. I really need to hear that he's going to be alright."
"I don't know, Sara. I'll call you. Tell Grissom I'll call you. And I'll tell the doctor."
"Nicky? Grissom wants you to check his left shoulder for a needle mark. If there is one, get a picture. Process him, Nick."
Nick sighed. "None of my stuff is here - it's in my truck. God, Sara. What are we going to do?"
Silence on her end, followed by a long sigh. "I don't know. I'll see if Grissom will let me come over with my kit. Take care of him, Nicky." She hung up, and Nick shut his phone, turning to the doctor.
"He was drugged. We don't know with what. They're going to run a toxicology report back at the lab and call as soon as they know anything. I have to look at him - see if I can find any marks. I have to process him."
Dr. Jansen, who was not unfamiliar with crime processing, looked at Nick in sympathy. "It's got to be hard when the victim is your friend."
Nick angrily brushed the tears from his face. "He's not just my friend, he's my brother."
_______
Author's note: thanks for all the support and the reviews and advice. I appreciate them, as well as the emails you all are sending me regarding this story. When I originally started it, I didn't realize it was going to be this long, but it's growing. I feel another spin-off! Please R&R!
Off to Grissom's left, Nick and Warrick saw Greg collapse. Grissom was hollering for someone to call the paramedics, frantically feeling for a pulse. He could feel the blood rushing through his head.
"What the hell did you do to Greg!" he demanded, picking Oscar up by his shirt and shaking him. "What did you do to him!"
Behind him, he felt Warrick place a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Nick, buddy. Easy. Don't give him any reason to press charges."
With a disgusted sigh and another shake, Nick lowered his arms, pushing Oscar at Warrick. "Keep him away from me, then." He turned to look again at Greg's prone form. Sara and Catherine were beside Grissom now, Catherine holding Greg's limp hand in her own; Sara sitting with Greg's head in her lap, brushing the hair from his forehead. Grissom was still monitoring Greg's pulse, his face a mask of frustration and fear.
All around the stage, people were muttering. The crush of people hadn't dissipated, as everyone wanted to see what was going on - like rubber- neckers at the scene of a car accident. Brass came over to him. "Nick. We need to close off the stage, before we loose any evidence. I want everyone that was up here brought in for questioning. Police are on their way. So are the paramedics."
Nick looked at Brass blankly, before giving himself a mental shake. "Yes, Brass. I'm on it."
Numbly, with the help of a couple of the bouncers, Nick quickly set up a perimeter and moved the band members and various stage hands out of it. With strong exhortations for them to wait for the police in the charge of the bouncers, he quickly went back to the stage. The paramedics had arrived, and were easing Greg onto a stretcher. Their movements were precise and professional, but hurried.
As they placed him on the stretcher, Nick could hear the clipped questions they were directing at Grissom.
"What happened?"
"I don't know. He just - collapsed."
"Has he taken anything tonight - any type of drug or stimulant?"
"No. He's a CSI - we're here working a case. He doesn't do drugs."
The smaller of the two paramedics was checking Greg's eyes, the shiny beam pointed right at the pupil. "No dilation, Stan."
"How long has his pulse been erratic like this?"
Grissom looked at his watch. "About 10 minutes."
"Has he responded to anything - voices, external stimuli - since he collapsed?"
Grissom shook his head mutely. "What's going on? Is he going to be all right?"
The paramedic shrugged. "We'll do what we can. But we don't know what we're dealing with here. You say he hasn't taken anything tonight, so we're working blind. The best thing we can do is get him to the hospital. Do you have his medical information?"
"It's on file at the office. I'll call - have someone send it over."
"Who's his next of kin?"
The question shook Grissom. He couldn't respond. Nick stepped forward.
"I am - we are. He doesn't have any family except us." His voice was choked with emotion. The paramedic nodded, making notes on his file.
"Okay then. Is someone coming with us in the ambulance?"
Grissom and Nick looked at each other. "You go, Nick. I'll stay here and process the scene. We'll be there as soon as we can."
Nick nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Grissom." He looked at Sara, Catherine and Warrick, who were all standing uselessly around the paramedics, their expressions grim. "I'll call. As soon as I find anything out, I'll call."
* * * * *
After Greg was wheeled out, Grissom turned and walked angrily towards Brass. "We need to talk to Oscar right away, but I have to process the scene. Can you take him back and throw him in the cage for a while? I don't want anyone talking to him until I can figure out what the hell happened."
Brass nodded grimly. "We can hold him, but not indefinitely. Grissom, are you sure Greg's clean?"
"Of course I'm sure, Brass." Grissom snapped. "Greg does not do drugs." He walked over to Oscar, who was standing with a police officer on either side of him. "I don't know what you did to him, you little punk, but I'll find out."
Oscar looked at Grissom emotionlessly. "I didn't do anything to him." He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Greg did it all to himself."
* * * * *
For the second time in three shifts, Sara was processing an empty bar. "I don't understand what happened!" She muttered, as she looked around the stage. "One minute he was fine, the next he was down."
Grissom was standing in the middle of the room, scowling, as he replayed the 5 minutes before Greg's collapse over and over in his mind. "He only came into direct physical contact with Oscar twice at most that I saw. Once - maybe - when he sat down behind the drums. Oscar was right behind him. The second time was when he finished drumming and handed back the drumsticks. Oscar clapped him on the shoulder."
Warrick's eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Grissom's words. "I saw that too. Greg winced." He strode quickly to the back of the drum kit. "Nick was on the stage by then, and he pulled Greg over to the side here. Oscar had sat down on the drum stool, and Nick grabbed him, reaching over like this." Warrick demonstrated. He looked at Grissom. Sara and Catherine had stopped what they were doing and stepped closer, a growing understanding dawning in their eyes.
Grissom nodded. "Oscar drugged him with something. Greg is having a reaction. Where would he have put the syringe?"
Warrick went down to his knees, until he was eye-level with the drum stool. He looked into the bass drum, scanning his flashlight carefully around the interior. "Nothing here."
Sara had moved to his side. "Could he have tossed it without anyone noticing? Into the back stage area?" Her light was flashing along the floor, into the corners. Grissom shook his head.
"It's a possibility. Or, he could still have it on him, somewhere. I better call Brass and warn him. They need to check him out." He quickly pulled out his cell-phone.
Warrick was still on his knees behind the drum set, tentatively running his hand over and under the stool seat.
"Careful, Warrick." Catherine had joined Sara in her slow search of the back of the stage. "If he's hidden it in the seat, you don't want to get pricked."
Warrick shrugged to indicate he had heard her, still carefully running his fingers over the vinyl. "Nothing." He finally sighed in disgust.
The snap of Grissom's cell phone made him jump. He looked at Grissom questioningly. "Spoke with Brass. They're going to search him as soon as they get back to the station. If Oscar did drug him we need to find that syringe. It will help if we know what Greg's fighting against."
Warrick had picked up the drumsticks and was carefully examining them. They had been sitting on top of the one of the drums, where Oscar had placed them as Nick grabbed him. Slowly standing, he pushed the bar stool out of his way, tapping a couple of the drums lightly. He stepped on the foot trap and opened up the cymbals to see if the syringe was in there. Again, nothing.
"You guys having any luck?"
Sara and Catherine grunted a negative. "I wish Nick would call and tell us what's going on." Sara's voice was worried.
"He will. Give him time - they probably only just got to the hospital." Catherine's voice was reassuring. Warrick turned back to the drum set. With the tip of the drum stick, he began lifting the soft vinyl covers that covered several of the drum skins. "Bingo!"
"Grissom, guys - I found it. Bring the camera." Warrick smiled grimly as Grissom approached him. There, sharp end poking slightly into the skin on a jumbo snare drum, a small syringe had been hidden under the dampener.
The two men looked at in with distaste as Sara approached with the camera and started taking pictures. "Okay, let's get this back to the lab and see what we can get from it. There're definitely going to be fingerprints 'cuz he didn't have gloves on. Let's hope we can get a toxicology report, ASAP."
* * * * *
Nick waited anxiously in the waiting room off of emergency. He was pacing restlessly. On the drive over to the hospital, Greg had been hooked up to oxygen and a heart monitor. Nick, who was not a doctor, knew enough to realize that the irregular blipping was not a good sign.
They had made it to the hospital in record time, rushing through the emergency room doors. Nick had immediately been ushered into the small waiting room, and had been there ever since. He had no idea what was going on, and it was killing him.
"Mr. Stokes?" A strong voice broke into his restless thoughts, and he stopped pacing.
"Yes?"
"I'm Dr. Jansen. I have a few questions for you about Greg."
Nick nodded. "How is he? Is he alright?"
The doctor sighed. "He's still unconscious. We received his medical information from the police station via fax about 10 minutes ago. I understand he was working when he collapsed?"
Nick nodded in assent.
"His boss was there, is that correct?"
Nick nodded again.
"Strictly between you and I, are you positive he didn't take any drugs this evening? He's exhibiting all the classic signs of a drug overdose."
Nick bristled. "Greg's a responsible guy. He's the best chemist we have at CSI, and there's no way he would ever take drugs. We see too many cases where drugs are one of the contributing factors - there's just no way."
"Okay. Could someone have slipped something to him without his knowledge - in a drink perhaps?"
Nick shook his head. "I was with him from the time we arrived until he collapsed. He didn't have anything to drink - not even a water. What's wrong with him?"
"His heartbeat is very irregular, blood pressure low. We're getting no pupil dilation and limited reflex. But I hesitate treating him until we can pinpoint the problem. If it is drugs -" he held up his hand as Nick started to interrupt him - "if it is drugs, I don't want to give him anything that could react negatively. That would just exacerbate the situation. We're trying to get his blood pressure stabilized now, level out his heart beat. If we don't, I'm afraid he'll go into cardiac arrest. We're running a blood test - see if we can find anything."
Nick stared at Dr. Jansen in shock, tears filling his eyes. Before he could respond, his cell phone started ringing. He looked at the doctor blankly. "Excuse me for a minute, it's probably our boss." He quickly flipped his open. "Stokes here."
"Nick. It's Sara. How's Greg?" Nick could feel her concern through the phone, and a fresh wave of tears filled his eyes.
"It's not looking good, Sara. They're having problems stabilizing him - his blood pressure is really low, and his heartbeat is irregular. I'm just talking to the doctor now. Can I call you back?"
"Nick - we found a syringe. We're headed back to the lab to check it out. Tell the doctor it looks like he was drugged. We're going to run a Tox. Report right away - I'll call as soon as I know." Her voice was choked. "Tell me he's going to be alright, Nicky. I really need to hear that he's going to be alright."
"I don't know, Sara. I'll call you. Tell Grissom I'll call you. And I'll tell the doctor."
"Nicky? Grissom wants you to check his left shoulder for a needle mark. If there is one, get a picture. Process him, Nick."
Nick sighed. "None of my stuff is here - it's in my truck. God, Sara. What are we going to do?"
Silence on her end, followed by a long sigh. "I don't know. I'll see if Grissom will let me come over with my kit. Take care of him, Nicky." She hung up, and Nick shut his phone, turning to the doctor.
"He was drugged. We don't know with what. They're going to run a toxicology report back at the lab and call as soon as they know anything. I have to look at him - see if I can find any marks. I have to process him."
Dr. Jansen, who was not unfamiliar with crime processing, looked at Nick in sympathy. "It's got to be hard when the victim is your friend."
Nick angrily brushed the tears from his face. "He's not just my friend, he's my brother."
_______
Author's note: thanks for all the support and the reviews and advice. I appreciate them, as well as the emails you all are sending me regarding this story. When I originally started it, I didn't realize it was going to be this long, but it's growing. I feel another spin-off! Please R&R!