Hi guys. Again, thank you so much for the reviews. They do mean a lot.
I'm glad you're liking my story and hope you continue to do so. I'll try
to post the next chapter by this weekend. Enjoy.
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Grissom noted the shakiness that seemed to have come over Dunn in the past few minutes and correctly surmised that the man was overdue for a fix. Well, all the better for us if he does shoot up, Grissom thought. A strung out junkie was irrational at best, while a sated one could be as malleable as playdough. Grissom needed to know what he was up against.
"Looks like you need to score, Dunn. Seems like being cooped up in here wasn't part of your game plan."
"How stupid you think I am? Charlie all but waved the bag in front of Grissom's face. "I was an EMT, man. I still got connections an' shit. Plenty to go around," Charlie sneered as he emptied the contents on the table. Grissom watched in amazement as several vials of pharmaceutical injectables and more than a dozen small packets of powder tumbled from the bag. One of the vials rolled off the table and landed inches from Grissom's knee. He extended himself to the right, trying to read the label.
"Morphine Sulfate, if you're that interested, Grissom," Charlie said as he picked up another vial. "And, just so I can stay on my toes, a little Dextromethamphetamine to mix with it. Betcha didn't think I knew such big words, huh?"
"Speedball." Betcha didn't think I knew such small words, huh?" Grissom stated, the slightest hint of irony in his tone.
Charlie ignored him as he opened a new syringe and drew liquid into it from two different vials. He tied off and found a vein. As the syringe emptied into his system, he spoke. "Heroin's much better than Morphine as far as I'm concerned. I know the docs say it's one an' the same, but H has got more of a kick." He pulled the needle from his arm and recapped it. Grissom watched in rapt silence as he tossed the used syringe into one of the nearby piles of garbage.
"So, I'll stay more in control, and your little chickie can have the H," he said, holding up a packet of white powder.
Grissom cringed and thought desperately that Dunn might be planning to inject Sara again. "It appears as though Ms. Sidle has had quite a bit already. Remember what I said about having healthy hostages, Dunn?"
"Don't sweat it, loverboy. I'm enjoying this ride too much to do anything for the next few minutes."
Grissom watched as Charlie sat back in the chair. He wasn't asleep or in the usual addict's nod. He just appeared more relaxed. His eyes were unfocused but didn't close. The CSI made a slight move to roll to his side, testing Dunn's level of coherence.
"I wouldn't try that, Grissom. The added speed is a nice effect. Keeps me sorta alert and all that," Charlie said, touching the revolver for effect.
Grissom quickly turned his attention to Sara. "You still with me, Sara?" He saw her stir slightly, but her eyes remained slits. "Talk to me. It's, Grissom.
"It's you, Griss? You're sure, I'm not imagining you? I can't uh, think."
"Sara, stay awake. How do you feel?"
"Sleepy. Want to sleep. I just want to go to uh, Griss, you there? I just want to sleep and, uh maybe we'll ride a coaster together sometime. Huh, Griss?"
"I don't care, Sara! You goddamn stay awake! You hear me!" his voice took on a deliberately harsh tone.
"Stop yellin' at me, Griss. I didn't get personally involved in this uh, this case, ok? It kinda found me," she almost giggled. Damn, had she imagined Grissom again? Her brain was so in and out. No, she had talked to him a few minutes ago. A lifetime ago? She realized time no longer registered for her.
"No, Sara, stay AWAKE! Please, just do this! Just do this for me, he softened." Even if Dunn was aware of the words, Grissom didn't care. He knew a head injury coupled with a loaded dose of heroin or morphine was a potentially life-threatening situation and he could not and would not sit by without trying to do something to rouse her.
"For you, Griss, always anything for you, Grissom," Sara slurred and struggled to make eye contact with the disembodied voice. She forced her eyes wider and made out the face of the man she had fallen in love with more than ten years ago. The man who now sat a mere few feet from her. Strange, Sara thought, his eyes looked tired and angry. Maybe a little scared. He licked his lips in a nervous tic. Grissom didn't get nervous, Sara thought briefly. He was always cool and calm and didn't feel. This was odd. This she wasn't used to. It scared her. Sara fought to curl her lips into a small smile as she tried to bring one to his face as well.
"Stop scaring me, Gil Grissom," she managed.
Grissom was terrified. Sara's words weren't making sense and her eyes were almost vacant. Then, he watched as she gave him a slight grin. That was Sara. That was his Sara. He allowed himself a deeper breath and managed to curve the corners of his lips upward in return. He noted that her eyes acknowledged his with a hint more focus. Grissom wasn't one for prayer or mental telepathy, but he put his faith in both as a constant thought ran through his mind. I will get us out of here, Sara. I swear I'll get us out of here. I love you.
***************************
"Damnit, Catherine, I just got word myself. You think this is any easier for me?" Brass tilted his head at the assembled group of CSI's.
"It's not easy for any of us, Jim. I can't believe over ten minutes have passed and Grissom's cell hasn't been tried. Or Sara's for that matter."
"You know we've been auto dialing hers for over six hours with no results. It's either dead, he's disabled it or thrown it out the damned window!" Brass yelled.
"Hey, Brass. Man, calm down ok," Nick spoke in a low voice, while reaching out, as if to place a hand on him.
"I'm fine, Nick. Listen. Everyone. I've been told to make the call to Grissom's cellphone. I have maybe ten idiots from five different departments breathing down my neck. I'm trying my best here." He looked at Catherine, Warrick and Nick individually.
"We know you are, man. Where're you doing the call from?" Warrick asked as he placed his arm around Catherine's back.
"The SWAT Com van. You want to come with me, Catherine?"
"Yeah, I would. Thanks." She began crossing the lot with Brass. Her attention was caught as Greg hopped from his car a couple hundred feet away. She smiled to herself and thought, yeah, the gangs all here. You haven't got a chance, Dunn. For the first time in days, Catherine allowed herself a grin.
********************
Grissom tried to take inventory of the situation. Rather, he thought of the situation that Sara had fallen into. On a rational level he knew that it had not been preventable. On an emotional level though, he berated himself. His guilt overwhelmed him. He should have known, should have been the one, should have done this or done that. He knew that right now he should no longer linger on Sara's battered face or he would become physically ill. It shocked him to the core to realize that her pain hurt him more than anything he had ever felt. Her pain scared him.
********************
Catherine and Brass sat at the switchboard in the SWAT Communications van. Activity swirled around them as an officer punched in a series of numbers.
"I'm surprised they didn't give it to the hostage negotiator. No offense, Jim."
"They were until I convinced them that I was the better choice. I've talked to Dunn, plus if I can talk to Grissom or Sara, I have an advantage."
"Which is?"
"I know them."
Catherine gave him a questioning look, tempered by a half smile.
"Well, as good as anyone can know those two," he smiled.
"Amen to that," Catherine laughed.
"We're almost ready, Captain," the officer next to Brass announced.
"Good," Brass sighed deeply, trying to rub a kink from his neck.
Catherine leaned toward him. "You'll do great, Jim. Aren't you glad they make you go to that Hostage Negotiation course every year?"
"Missed it this year. Flu," Brass deadpanned.
Catherine sank noticeably into her chair.
"I'm kidding, Catherine. Trying to inject a little levity."
"Well, don't. It throws my world off kilter when Jim Brass is funny, ok?" she smiled at him.
"All right, Captain. You have an open speaker connection to Mr. Grissom's cell number. It's ringing."
Brass nodded.
TBC
****************
Grissom noted the shakiness that seemed to have come over Dunn in the past few minutes and correctly surmised that the man was overdue for a fix. Well, all the better for us if he does shoot up, Grissom thought. A strung out junkie was irrational at best, while a sated one could be as malleable as playdough. Grissom needed to know what he was up against.
"Looks like you need to score, Dunn. Seems like being cooped up in here wasn't part of your game plan."
"How stupid you think I am? Charlie all but waved the bag in front of Grissom's face. "I was an EMT, man. I still got connections an' shit. Plenty to go around," Charlie sneered as he emptied the contents on the table. Grissom watched in amazement as several vials of pharmaceutical injectables and more than a dozen small packets of powder tumbled from the bag. One of the vials rolled off the table and landed inches from Grissom's knee. He extended himself to the right, trying to read the label.
"Morphine Sulfate, if you're that interested, Grissom," Charlie said as he picked up another vial. "And, just so I can stay on my toes, a little Dextromethamphetamine to mix with it. Betcha didn't think I knew such big words, huh?"
"Speedball." Betcha didn't think I knew such small words, huh?" Grissom stated, the slightest hint of irony in his tone.
Charlie ignored him as he opened a new syringe and drew liquid into it from two different vials. He tied off and found a vein. As the syringe emptied into his system, he spoke. "Heroin's much better than Morphine as far as I'm concerned. I know the docs say it's one an' the same, but H has got more of a kick." He pulled the needle from his arm and recapped it. Grissom watched in rapt silence as he tossed the used syringe into one of the nearby piles of garbage.
"So, I'll stay more in control, and your little chickie can have the H," he said, holding up a packet of white powder.
Grissom cringed and thought desperately that Dunn might be planning to inject Sara again. "It appears as though Ms. Sidle has had quite a bit already. Remember what I said about having healthy hostages, Dunn?"
"Don't sweat it, loverboy. I'm enjoying this ride too much to do anything for the next few minutes."
Grissom watched as Charlie sat back in the chair. He wasn't asleep or in the usual addict's nod. He just appeared more relaxed. His eyes were unfocused but didn't close. The CSI made a slight move to roll to his side, testing Dunn's level of coherence.
"I wouldn't try that, Grissom. The added speed is a nice effect. Keeps me sorta alert and all that," Charlie said, touching the revolver for effect.
Grissom quickly turned his attention to Sara. "You still with me, Sara?" He saw her stir slightly, but her eyes remained slits. "Talk to me. It's, Grissom.
"It's you, Griss? You're sure, I'm not imagining you? I can't uh, think."
"Sara, stay awake. How do you feel?"
"Sleepy. Want to sleep. I just want to go to uh, Griss, you there? I just want to sleep and, uh maybe we'll ride a coaster together sometime. Huh, Griss?"
"I don't care, Sara! You goddamn stay awake! You hear me!" his voice took on a deliberately harsh tone.
"Stop yellin' at me, Griss. I didn't get personally involved in this uh, this case, ok? It kinda found me," she almost giggled. Damn, had she imagined Grissom again? Her brain was so in and out. No, she had talked to him a few minutes ago. A lifetime ago? She realized time no longer registered for her.
"No, Sara, stay AWAKE! Please, just do this! Just do this for me, he softened." Even if Dunn was aware of the words, Grissom didn't care. He knew a head injury coupled with a loaded dose of heroin or morphine was a potentially life-threatening situation and he could not and would not sit by without trying to do something to rouse her.
"For you, Griss, always anything for you, Grissom," Sara slurred and struggled to make eye contact with the disembodied voice. She forced her eyes wider and made out the face of the man she had fallen in love with more than ten years ago. The man who now sat a mere few feet from her. Strange, Sara thought, his eyes looked tired and angry. Maybe a little scared. He licked his lips in a nervous tic. Grissom didn't get nervous, Sara thought briefly. He was always cool and calm and didn't feel. This was odd. This she wasn't used to. It scared her. Sara fought to curl her lips into a small smile as she tried to bring one to his face as well.
"Stop scaring me, Gil Grissom," she managed.
Grissom was terrified. Sara's words weren't making sense and her eyes were almost vacant. Then, he watched as she gave him a slight grin. That was Sara. That was his Sara. He allowed himself a deeper breath and managed to curve the corners of his lips upward in return. He noted that her eyes acknowledged his with a hint more focus. Grissom wasn't one for prayer or mental telepathy, but he put his faith in both as a constant thought ran through his mind. I will get us out of here, Sara. I swear I'll get us out of here. I love you.
***************************
"Damnit, Catherine, I just got word myself. You think this is any easier for me?" Brass tilted his head at the assembled group of CSI's.
"It's not easy for any of us, Jim. I can't believe over ten minutes have passed and Grissom's cell hasn't been tried. Or Sara's for that matter."
"You know we've been auto dialing hers for over six hours with no results. It's either dead, he's disabled it or thrown it out the damned window!" Brass yelled.
"Hey, Brass. Man, calm down ok," Nick spoke in a low voice, while reaching out, as if to place a hand on him.
"I'm fine, Nick. Listen. Everyone. I've been told to make the call to Grissom's cellphone. I have maybe ten idiots from five different departments breathing down my neck. I'm trying my best here." He looked at Catherine, Warrick and Nick individually.
"We know you are, man. Where're you doing the call from?" Warrick asked as he placed his arm around Catherine's back.
"The SWAT Com van. You want to come with me, Catherine?"
"Yeah, I would. Thanks." She began crossing the lot with Brass. Her attention was caught as Greg hopped from his car a couple hundred feet away. She smiled to herself and thought, yeah, the gangs all here. You haven't got a chance, Dunn. For the first time in days, Catherine allowed herself a grin.
********************
Grissom tried to take inventory of the situation. Rather, he thought of the situation that Sara had fallen into. On a rational level he knew that it had not been preventable. On an emotional level though, he berated himself. His guilt overwhelmed him. He should have known, should have been the one, should have done this or done that. He knew that right now he should no longer linger on Sara's battered face or he would become physically ill. It shocked him to the core to realize that her pain hurt him more than anything he had ever felt. Her pain scared him.
********************
Catherine and Brass sat at the switchboard in the SWAT Communications van. Activity swirled around them as an officer punched in a series of numbers.
"I'm surprised they didn't give it to the hostage negotiator. No offense, Jim."
"They were until I convinced them that I was the better choice. I've talked to Dunn, plus if I can talk to Grissom or Sara, I have an advantage."
"Which is?"
"I know them."
Catherine gave him a questioning look, tempered by a half smile.
"Well, as good as anyone can know those two," he smiled.
"Amen to that," Catherine laughed.
"We're almost ready, Captain," the officer next to Brass announced.
"Good," Brass sighed deeply, trying to rub a kink from his neck.
Catherine leaned toward him. "You'll do great, Jim. Aren't you glad they make you go to that Hostage Negotiation course every year?"
"Missed it this year. Flu," Brass deadpanned.
Catherine sank noticeably into her chair.
"I'm kidding, Catherine. Trying to inject a little levity."
"Well, don't. It throws my world off kilter when Jim Brass is funny, ok?" she smiled at him.
"All right, Captain. You have an open speaker connection to Mr. Grissom's cell number. It's ringing."
Brass nodded.
TBC