Author's Note: Now, see there y'all go, thinking that something bad is coming. Just because I end the previous chapter on an ominous note, you think that Nick is going to get hurt, or that some catastrophic event is going to occur. And you know what? You may be right. But if you are, I'm not going to tell you. You will have to read on and find out for yourself. And as you read on, remember: the characters are not mine, and no money is being made off of them. I think this is just a crying shame. Ah, well, that's life.
* * *
But all my words got in the way
And all the things I meant to say
Were not the things you heard
Why'd you have to go
And take me at my word
("Words" by Sherrie Austin)
* * *
The team was in shock. Had the whole world gone mad? First Nick exploded at Grissom, and then Greg took his turn yelling at them. They were so stunned by the sudden explosion of words that had sprung forth from the lab tech that they had walked out of the lab without even reprimanding Greg. They had been stunned into silence. Grissom took off his glasses and rubbed his fingers over the bridge of him nose. This was not right. He was supposed to be the leader of the team. They were supposed to respect him and follow his lead. But somehow, in the span of five minutes, he had lost the respect of two of the members of his team. He couldn't wrap his head around it. To say it was uncharacteristic of Nick and Greg to act this way would be the understatement of the year. Sure, they could lose their tempers from time to time, but everyone does. However, neither of them had ever dared to speak to Grissom in that tone of voice before. He was even more surprised at himself for not saying something. He could have followed Nick out or he could have talked to Greg but he did neither. He simply slunk out of the lab like a puppy that has just been whacked with a newspaper. He knew why. He hated to admit it, but there was a grain of truth in what Nick had said. Grissom hadn't really tried to understand Nick lately. He had just figured that Catherine, or Warrick, or Greg would talk to Nick. Grissom was a hell of a scientist, but sometimes he was lacking in the human emotions department. Usually the team tolerated his lack of outward emotion, but now it seemed to be hurting Nick. Grissom was upset at himself for not recognizing that the young man was having problems. For an investigator he sure could be dense sometimes, particularly when it concerned the way the minds of his co-workers operated. The evidence had been staring him in the face and Grissom had still been unable to recognize that Nick was in trouble. Well he certainly knew now. Everyone on the team knew exactly how Nick felt. He had made it abundantly clear. And Greg's outburst, well that had hurt even more than Nick's. The comparison to Ecklie had ruffled Grissom's feathers initially, but now as he walked towards his office, Greg's comparison didn't seem so far-fetched. Ecklie was not known for his compassion, and lately, Grissom wasn't either. He hated to admit it to himself but he had treated Nick with all the compassion that one would treat a piece of dirt on their shoe. He had brushed the young man aside and now he knew that he was going to have to do some serious damage control if he wanted to regain Nick and Greg's respect.
But that would have to wait. Much as he wanted to try and smooth things over, he had a case to work on. Talking to his team mates was going to have to wait until after the shift. He wasn't going to say anything until then. He resolved himself not to say anything when Greg took off to find Nick. He needed to let the situation air itself out until he had time to sit down and deal with it properly. In the meantime, he occupied himself with the note. He gingerly pulled it from the evidence bag and smoothed it out on his desk.
The day of reckoning is coming. We will face the rage of angels. The time has come for the fallen to come forth with their power and glory. There is nothing sacred anymore. The blood will spring forth and cleanse the wounds of humanity. Fear not death, for the New Messiah has arrived. The judgment shall be passed and the unworthy will meet their destiny. Fear not death, for the New Messiah has risen from the ashes and is reborn in the blood.
They had already checked it for fingerprints; there were none. Whoever had written it had worn gloves. They were analyzing the ink for the pen, but it was unlikely that it would wield any clues. The writer had taken the time to put gloves on; it was unlikely that they would use any type of specialty ink that could be traced back to them. It was probably just a cheap Bic pen that you can buy at any store in the state. Grissom read and re-read the note over and over again. He was looking for some sort of clue in the bizarre ramblings of the note. The only things that jumped out at him were the words "…reborn in the blood" and "new messiah". The blood was self explanatory; they had found the victims bathed in blood. The "new messiah" was also chillingly familiar. Grissom remembered too well the first time he had seen those words. They had been encircling the bones of the two children. He knew that Rachel had called herself the "New Messiah". Nick had told him in the hospital. He knew about Rachel's plan, but it was all through second-hand information. He needed to talk to Nick. He was the only one who had any real insight into how this woman operated. But he had caused Nick to leave, right when he needed him the most. He sighed. This case was going to be hard on all of them but especially Nick. He needed to talk to the young man. If he didn't, then they may never solve the case. He was mentally kicking himself for the way he had been treating Nick when Greg interrupted his thoughts.
"The results are back on those tests you wanted me to run" His voice was far more calm now, but there was none of his usual theatrics when presenting information. He was still angry. Grissom didn't blame him.
"And?"
"Well the pen that wrote the note was a Bic. It could have been bought anywhere. The handwriting is being analyzed as we speak; Catherine is in with the specialist. As for the blood, well there was the blood of the two victims – and a third party".
Grissom perked up. "Did you run it through the database?"
"That's the thing. It's not human. It's sheep's blood."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Whoever did this poured sheep's blood all over the crime scene. That's why there was so much of it present. Whoever did this had it planned out because you don't just carry sheep's blood around in the back of your car." Greg looked at his boss. Grissom looked far older then Greg remembered. The case was definitely affecting all of them. He continued.
"Look, if there's nothing else, I'm going to take off. I want to go and find Nick." His smile was grim and unfriendly.
Grissom nodded without argument. "You do that. And Greg?" The lab tech turned and looked back. "When you find him, tell him that I want to talk to him. Not as his boss – as his friend".
Greg gave Grissom another smile, this one far more genuine than the first. He was still smiling as he headed to his car. Grissom was willing to talk. Wow, that should be the lead story on the evening news. But now Greg had to find Nick. He sat for a moment, trying to figure out where Nick would go to clear his head. He remembered a recent conversation that they had had a few days ago. Nick had told him that he had found a new way to channel his frustrations and his anger. It was worth a shot.
* * *
BANG! BANG ! BANG!
The sound of gunfire roared through the small area. The bullets found their intended target, each striking a blow more deadly than the last. The shooter smiled with smug satisfaction as his victim fell. A sudden tap on his shoulder caused him to whirl around, his gun still in his hand.
"Whoa! Don't point that thing at me!" Greg's voice was muted by the noise of the firing range. Nick could barely make out the words from under the heavy ear protection they were required to wear. He had taken to going to the firing range lately and blowing off some steam there. Normally he didn't care for guns, but it just seemed so easy to release his anger onto the unmoving paper target. With each bullet he fired, he felt a bit of the stress leave him. It was only temporary and it always left him wanting to fire more. It was just another defense mechanism, working to keep his mind from dealing with the problems. Now he was looking into the eyes of his best friend and realized that there may be more productive ways of working through issues. He walked out of the fire range with Greg on his heels.
"You trying to just shoot your troubles away?" the question was only half-teasing.
"Something like that. Although I am starting to think that I just shot myself in the foot – pun intended" His tried to make light of his new hobby, but his voice seemed so unnatural. It sounded like someone who was on the verge of breaking down.
"You mean what you said to Grissom? Don't worry about it. It's about time we stood up to him"
"Excuse me? What 'we'? The last time I checked, I was the only one who insulted their boss and stormed off like a little kid."
Greg grinned sheepishly. He'd forgotten that Nick had missed his moment of glory. "Oh, well, you left before you heard me get my shots in. I told Grissom to cut you some slack – and I told him that I would expect the attitude from Ecklie, but not from him".
"You didn't!"
"I did. I thought he was going to flip out, but instead he just went into his office. I think he feels really bad Nick. He said that he wants to talk to you – as a friend, not a boss".
Nick was surprised. That sounded so unlike Grissom. But then again, no one had been sounding like themselves lately. He had taken to sounding defensive all the time, Greg was getting all deep and philosophical and now Grissom was willing to open up and talk about something. Strange days these were. He looked at Greg and shook his head.
"I acted like a jerk. I can't talk to him, even if it is as a friend."
"Well would you talk to me? If my being a friend bothers you however, I could act like a therapist and give you a diagnosis. Or maybe you would open up to a guru and I could impart my sage words of wisdom upon you. Say, how about you talk to me like I am a soothsayer – you know, 'Beware the Ides of March' and what not".
Nick had to laugh at his friend's theatrics. "First off, I had enough shrinks at the hospital to last me a lifetime. Second, you are hardly old enough to be a guru. And third, it's the middle of April – not March. But –" here his tone grew serious "I do need to talk to someone".
Greg grinned. "Ok, so how about we grab coffee and just drive around for a bit? It's a great way to help relax and you won't need to worry about anyone listening in on your conversation."
"Sounds good. Lead the way"
They drove to a nearby coffee shop and upon getting their coffees, began to drive aimlessly. Nick watched the scenery fly by for a while, trying to formulate his thoughts. Gradually the scenery changed from the bright lights of the Strip to the occasional glow of a street light to the absolute darkness as they drove into the desert.
"Do you know where you're going?" The question seemed to surprise Greg.
"Well….no. But I have been driving in a straight line, so I figure I will just turn around eventually and I will find my way back."
Nick snorted. This was more typical Greg behavior. "You always struck me as a free spirit".
"I am. But I thought we came out here to talk about you." Greg pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the ignition. "Look Nick we've been driving for nearly an hour and you still haven't talked to me. I can't help you if you don't let me".
Nick sighed. It was now or never. "I just don't know what I am doing anymore. It's been three months and it feels like it was yesterday. I can't seem to shake it Greg. I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see her there. I am afraid to close my eyes because I always see her standing in front of me. I can't even find peace in my dreams anymore. It's like she's taken over my life! I want to make her leave but I don't know how. And then work – oh God, sometimes I just dread going into work. I can't bring myself to deal with these cases anymore. I know the evil that's out there; I stared into its eyes. And I don't want to go there anymore. I am tired of being surrounded by death and evil every day."
"Are you thinking of quitting?"
Nick shrugged. "I have asked myself that question every single day. I love my job and I know that there are people who benefit from me doing this, but I just can't stand being there anymore."
Greg thought for a moment, and posed an interesting question. "Is that because the job is getting to you, or are you feeling frustrated by the team? Let's face it; they have not exactly been the most helpful bunch of people lately"
Greg had hit a nerve. Nick didn't want to think like that, but Greg had a point. The lack of support he was getting from his team was bothering him.
"I guess that's part of it. I know that they care, but sometimes it would be nice for them to ask me more than 'Are you ok Nick?' They seem to be doing it out of obligation, not out of compassion."
"Did you ever think that they don't show much support because you don't let on that things are bothering you? You expect them to be mind readers Nick. That's not fair."
"Hey! I thought you were on my side!" Nick looked hurt. Greg remained unfazed.
"Hey, you need to give a little to get a little. You need to tell them that you're having problems. Then it's up to them to do their part and show you a little more support. But I don't think that you can blame it all on them. The only reason you ever open up to me is because I pry more than the others do. Well, Nick, they probably don't know how much they need to push before you are willing to talk to them."
A heavy silence hung in the air for a moment. Nick had to admit that Greg was right. He had been blaming his team mates for not helping him, but he had never gone to them and told them that he needed it. He was a very private person and they had no idea how bad things were getting for him. He needed to open up and let them in if they wanted to help him work through his troubles.
"When did you get so smart?" He looked at his friend and smiled.
Greg laughed. "Well you know I was top of my class…"
"I mean, how did you get so life smart? You always manage to put things in perspective for me. And you always tell me the truth, even when I don't want to hear it. Thank you"
"You're welcome. Now, is there anything else that we need to talk about, or can we get out of here? It is really kinda creepy out here."
Nick agreed. "Yeah, let's head back. I still need to talk, but I think it's about time I opened up to some other people. I should get back and talk to Grissom. I owe it to him to explain how I have been feeling lately".
"Well I think that would be good for both of you. But always remember that if you ever feel like there is no one else you can turn to, you can always turn to me."
"Thanks. You have, and always will be, my therapist, my guru and my soothsayer. Now let's get out of here!"
Greg made a three point turn and began to drive back towards the neon warmth of the city. They hadn't been driving ten minutes when a very strange sight caught Nick's eye.
"Greg? Was that light there when we came in?"
Greg slowed the car and looked in the direction Nick was pointing. There, to his left, a building was illuminated by a soft white light. Greg was sure that he hadn't seen it on the way in, and told Nick so.
"Who on earth would come out here so late? Why open up a building now?"
Greg didn't have an answer. He stopped the car when they were directly parallel with building. From this distance it was hard to tell what it was. It was a small, white building that was lit by a single light over the door. Inside, the yellow glow radiated through the windows. It was so out of place, yet it felt very natural at the same time. Greg seemed to read Nick's mind as he verbalized his thoughts.
"Wanna go check it out?"
Now if this were a horror movie, the audience would be screaming at them to get back in the car. You never, ever go check out a building in the middle of no where. That is when the crazed killer attacks his unsuspecting prey. There is no one around to help you and no one around to hear you scream. It is suicide. But evidently Nick and Greg hadn't been watching the "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" recently and they went exploring. They drove the car closer to the building and parked about a hundred yards away. Greg always kept a couple of flashlights in the trunk and together they began to look around. As the light swept the desolate landscape, they realized something. They knew where they were. Well, not literally, because they were in the middle of nowhere. But they recognized the building for what it was.
They were standing in front of a church. It was a tiny church and what it was doing out here, well, God only knows (no pun intended). But here it was. A slightly crooked cross was perched precariously atop the steeple. The white paint was chipping off the walls and the trim was a dirty green. There was a small garden on either side of the rickety stairs. The flowers and greenery were all dead or decaying. As Nick shone his light, he could make out a small fenced in area on the right side of the building. As he looked closer, he realized it was a small graveyard. His curiosity got the better of him and he went closer. The gate was covered in ivy that had long since lost its life. It swung open with a creak at the slightest touch of his hands. He walked carefully between the rows, not wanting to tread on the graves. Many of the names were worn off and the tombstones were crumbling. There was an overwhelming sense of sadness here. He looked at some dates and saw that some of these graves dated back over thirty years. It looked as if no one had tended to these burial plots in many months. The weeds were snaking their way around the tombstones and any flowers that had been placed had withered and died. It was a place where the dead were laid to rest and their souls were set free. Nick suspected that this tiny burial ground had not seen visitors in quite some time. He quietly slipped back out of the graveyard, making sure to secure the gate behind him. He turned and went back to where he had left Greg. There was just one problem.
Greg wasn't there anymore.
"Greg?" Nick yelled. No answer. He tried again. "GREG?!" Still, no answer.
Nick quickly walked around the small church but there was no sign of his friend anywhere. He looked at the front door. It was ever-so slightly ajar. He drew his gun and cautiously pushed the door open.
He was in the vestibule. There was nothing there except a dusty card table with an empty wicker basket perched on top, and a brass font that had once held Holy water. In front of him were scarred wooden doors that led into the church. Nick pulled the doors open, and nearly dropped his gun from shock.
The inside of the church was lit almost entirely by candles. They cast their eerie shadows on the walls as Nick looked around. There was a single centre aisle, lined on either side by ten rows of pews. The pews were covered in several layers of thick, heavy dust. At the tabernacle was an old, decrepit cross the displayed the crucifixion of Christ. Dried, brown palm leaves grew from large pots on either side of the well worn alter. It was none of this that stunned Nick.
It was the fact that Greg was laying face down in front of the alter, a pool of blood spreading out from beneath him.