Hi guys. Almost wrapping it up. Please note that for the purposes of this
piece of fiction, Hank the EMT is having several days off and spending them
with a certain dominatrix. Thus, he shall not be in the story. Enough
said. Please enjoy and leave a review. Thanks.
*************************
Catherine leaned slightly into Warrick, his arm steadying her as their eyes were glued to the building that Martinez and Brass had just entered. Nick and Greg blew off steam and frustration by pacing just inside the yellow police tape. They'd all been forced back by SWAT as soon as Sara's call came in. Brass had flipped open his cell and his face went from fatigue to confusion to overdrive in two seconds. He could barely hear her voice. Much clearer was the unmistakable sound of fighting in the background. He caught the distinct smack of fists striking flesh. Sara had managed only a few gasped words. 'Fire. Gunshot. Grissom and Dunn. Help'. She had stopped speaking and Brass shouted into the phone repeatedly, trying to elicit more information. Finally, getting no response, he'd left the phone open and placed it on the trunk of the car. He had soon been pummeled with worried questions from the assembled group and did his best to answer them while getting Commander Martinez on the radio.
They all heard Martinez give the order to rush the apartment. The SWAT team stationed in an adjacent hallway since the beginning of the ordeal ensured the swift execution of the directive. Brass ushered Greg and the CSI's further away from the parking lot staging area as he and Martinez prepared to go inside. Two SWAT members carrying industrial fire extinguishers followed them. The Las Vegas Fire Department wouldn't be allowed inside until the scene was secured.
Now Catherine and Warrick waited. Greg and Nick traded jibes and paced. They all knew the reality. It could be a set-up, staged by a desperate or unbalanced Dunn. Sara hadn't been able to convey much; had hardly been able to speak. It could be bad. They waited and took what comfort and energy they could from each other.
***********************
Grissom turned toward what used to be the front door to the apartment. Half a dozen SWAT officers swarmed through the doorway as the two leads that had wielded the steal battering ram stepped aside.
"LVPD! Nobody moves!" The voice was loud and distinct and the words echoed against the walls.
Guns were trained on all occupants of the apartment as the officers, outfitted in riot gear, took up strategic positions until the scene could be cleared. Grissom froze with his arms still clasping Sara. He felt hands pressed firmly on his shoulder and back to keep him from moving.
"I'm CSI Grissom," he managed as loudly as possible. "This woman needs medical attention!"
A gruff disembodied voice answered. "We know who you are, Mr. Grissom. We're securing the scene. Let us work."
Grissom tried to turn, but was stopped by the hand pressing painfully into his back. "She needs help! The place is on fire!" Normally, he would have added a sarcastic inflection. He was vaguely aware that his thinking wasn't razor sharp.
"We're taking care of that, Mr. Grissom. We need to immobilize the perp."
"I already did that. She needs help! Let me go!"
Grissom's hands had begun to tingle. Not painfully, but with an annoying consistency. He hardly felt the blood continuing to seep from the wound along his collarbone. If his sweatshirt had been anything other than navy blue, the bright red stain would have shocked anyone looking at him. The sharp pain had become a muted discomfort. Grissom had almost detached himself from his own discomfort. He was having a harder time shaking the dizziness and coldness that crept through his bones. He was in shock and didn't know it.
"I already took care of Dunn. Get your hands off of me!"
Commander Martinez entered the apartment and appraised the situation cautiously. "We secure here?"
"Yes, sir!" came the barked response.
The SWAT members with fire extinguishers had been working to knock back the flames coming from far side of the room. Brass took in the scene and quickly threaded his way through the SWAT members.
"You ok, Grissom?" Martinez asked. "What about the girl?"
The hands holding Grissom in place were removed and he gazed up at the SWAT commander. "She needs the paramedics. Where the hell are they?"
"They're outside, Gil." Brass knelt beside his friend and inspected the gunshot wound. "Never learned to duck, huh? You scientists are pretty damned lousy at dodging bullets." His tone was light but the concern in his face was evident as he carefully probed the injury.
Grissom shrugged violently. "I'm fine, Brass. Take care of Sara." He paused and appeared to collect himself. "Please make them take care of her." He sighed and glanced at Brass before returning his gaze to Sara. Grissom seemed to struggle for words. "Please, Jim. Don't let anyone hurt her."
Already, Brass had leaned over Sara and was checking her neck for a pulse. She was so still that he feared the worst. Holding his breath he finally felt the light and rapid beat of her heart.
Several paramedics came through the door carrying equipment, backboards and gurneys. Brass managed to pull Grissom away from Sara. Two medics started to work on her as one turned to the CSI and began to examine his wound. Again, Grissom shrugged away the attention, his eyes never leaving Sara's face. "It's not me, it's her. Help her, please." His tone had taken on an almost pleading quality and Brass motioned for the paramedic to leave him alone for the time being.
"Gil? Gil? They're taking care of her, ok?" Brass positioned himself almost directly in front of his colleague and friend. "We need to get you out of here. You've been shot and you're in shock."
Grissom did not respond verbally; rather he moved to one side until he could again see Sara. His entire focus was her.
"Buddy, listen to me," Brass leaned in closer and grasped his wrist. "I know this probably isn't making much sense to you right now, but hear me. They are helping Sara." He felt like he was talking to a statue. A cold, bleeding statue.
Across the room, Charlie Dunn had been loaded on a gurney already and was being treated even as he was being carried out. The fire and been subdued, but smoke still permeated the small apartment.
The two paramedics working on Sara quickly and efficiently placed her on a backboard and then on a gurney. The medic stationed by her head was rhythmically inflating a breathing bag that was secured over her nose and mouth.
"What are you doing?" Grissom's mind processed the actions, but he refused to face the reality.
"We're taking her outside, sir. The smoke isn't helping our efforts."
Grissom cocked his head in a brief show of confusion. Brass, realizing what was happening, tightened his grip on the CSI.
"She's not breathing, sir," one of the paramedics said gently before returning to his patient.
They quickly carried Sara out of the apartment and left a stunned Grissom in the doorway.
Not breathing, he thought. She was breathing a minute ago. How could she not be breathing anymore? Sara had crawled across the floor. She was breathing then, but not now? Then, but not anymore? Grissom kept seeing the paramedic inflating the bag, forcing air into her lungs. She had been carried out, but the image persisted. His world seemed to stall and then lurch forward. It was unlike anything in his experience. Grissom was empty. He still stood in the apartment. The dizziness wasn't new, but the flurry of activity continued to keep him off balance as he could feel people brush by. The smoke had started to abate. He wondered idly why they hadn't brought a fan in. The fire department usually brought fans to extract the smoke. He knew that Brass continued speaking to him. What he said, Grissom didn't register. Brass just continued speaking, then wrapped one arm around his back and walked them out of the apartment.
Suddenly, Grissom realized that Sara wasn't near him. She wasn't in the hallway. She wasn't waiting for him. Sara wasn't breathing and she wasn't in the hallway. That was all he knew. She wasn't near him. Grissom broke Brass's hold and ignored the concerned look on his friend's face. He needed to find Sara, because she wasn't near him.
TBC
*************************
Catherine leaned slightly into Warrick, his arm steadying her as their eyes were glued to the building that Martinez and Brass had just entered. Nick and Greg blew off steam and frustration by pacing just inside the yellow police tape. They'd all been forced back by SWAT as soon as Sara's call came in. Brass had flipped open his cell and his face went from fatigue to confusion to overdrive in two seconds. He could barely hear her voice. Much clearer was the unmistakable sound of fighting in the background. He caught the distinct smack of fists striking flesh. Sara had managed only a few gasped words. 'Fire. Gunshot. Grissom and Dunn. Help'. She had stopped speaking and Brass shouted into the phone repeatedly, trying to elicit more information. Finally, getting no response, he'd left the phone open and placed it on the trunk of the car. He had soon been pummeled with worried questions from the assembled group and did his best to answer them while getting Commander Martinez on the radio.
They all heard Martinez give the order to rush the apartment. The SWAT team stationed in an adjacent hallway since the beginning of the ordeal ensured the swift execution of the directive. Brass ushered Greg and the CSI's further away from the parking lot staging area as he and Martinez prepared to go inside. Two SWAT members carrying industrial fire extinguishers followed them. The Las Vegas Fire Department wouldn't be allowed inside until the scene was secured.
Now Catherine and Warrick waited. Greg and Nick traded jibes and paced. They all knew the reality. It could be a set-up, staged by a desperate or unbalanced Dunn. Sara hadn't been able to convey much; had hardly been able to speak. It could be bad. They waited and took what comfort and energy they could from each other.
***********************
Grissom turned toward what used to be the front door to the apartment. Half a dozen SWAT officers swarmed through the doorway as the two leads that had wielded the steal battering ram stepped aside.
"LVPD! Nobody moves!" The voice was loud and distinct and the words echoed against the walls.
Guns were trained on all occupants of the apartment as the officers, outfitted in riot gear, took up strategic positions until the scene could be cleared. Grissom froze with his arms still clasping Sara. He felt hands pressed firmly on his shoulder and back to keep him from moving.
"I'm CSI Grissom," he managed as loudly as possible. "This woman needs medical attention!"
A gruff disembodied voice answered. "We know who you are, Mr. Grissom. We're securing the scene. Let us work."
Grissom tried to turn, but was stopped by the hand pressing painfully into his back. "She needs help! The place is on fire!" Normally, he would have added a sarcastic inflection. He was vaguely aware that his thinking wasn't razor sharp.
"We're taking care of that, Mr. Grissom. We need to immobilize the perp."
"I already did that. She needs help! Let me go!"
Grissom's hands had begun to tingle. Not painfully, but with an annoying consistency. He hardly felt the blood continuing to seep from the wound along his collarbone. If his sweatshirt had been anything other than navy blue, the bright red stain would have shocked anyone looking at him. The sharp pain had become a muted discomfort. Grissom had almost detached himself from his own discomfort. He was having a harder time shaking the dizziness and coldness that crept through his bones. He was in shock and didn't know it.
"I already took care of Dunn. Get your hands off of me!"
Commander Martinez entered the apartment and appraised the situation cautiously. "We secure here?"
"Yes, sir!" came the barked response.
The SWAT members with fire extinguishers had been working to knock back the flames coming from far side of the room. Brass took in the scene and quickly threaded his way through the SWAT members.
"You ok, Grissom?" Martinez asked. "What about the girl?"
The hands holding Grissom in place were removed and he gazed up at the SWAT commander. "She needs the paramedics. Where the hell are they?"
"They're outside, Gil." Brass knelt beside his friend and inspected the gunshot wound. "Never learned to duck, huh? You scientists are pretty damned lousy at dodging bullets." His tone was light but the concern in his face was evident as he carefully probed the injury.
Grissom shrugged violently. "I'm fine, Brass. Take care of Sara." He paused and appeared to collect himself. "Please make them take care of her." He sighed and glanced at Brass before returning his gaze to Sara. Grissom seemed to struggle for words. "Please, Jim. Don't let anyone hurt her."
Already, Brass had leaned over Sara and was checking her neck for a pulse. She was so still that he feared the worst. Holding his breath he finally felt the light and rapid beat of her heart.
Several paramedics came through the door carrying equipment, backboards and gurneys. Brass managed to pull Grissom away from Sara. Two medics started to work on her as one turned to the CSI and began to examine his wound. Again, Grissom shrugged away the attention, his eyes never leaving Sara's face. "It's not me, it's her. Help her, please." His tone had taken on an almost pleading quality and Brass motioned for the paramedic to leave him alone for the time being.
"Gil? Gil? They're taking care of her, ok?" Brass positioned himself almost directly in front of his colleague and friend. "We need to get you out of here. You've been shot and you're in shock."
Grissom did not respond verbally; rather he moved to one side until he could again see Sara. His entire focus was her.
"Buddy, listen to me," Brass leaned in closer and grasped his wrist. "I know this probably isn't making much sense to you right now, but hear me. They are helping Sara." He felt like he was talking to a statue. A cold, bleeding statue.
Across the room, Charlie Dunn had been loaded on a gurney already and was being treated even as he was being carried out. The fire and been subdued, but smoke still permeated the small apartment.
The two paramedics working on Sara quickly and efficiently placed her on a backboard and then on a gurney. The medic stationed by her head was rhythmically inflating a breathing bag that was secured over her nose and mouth.
"What are you doing?" Grissom's mind processed the actions, but he refused to face the reality.
"We're taking her outside, sir. The smoke isn't helping our efforts."
Grissom cocked his head in a brief show of confusion. Brass, realizing what was happening, tightened his grip on the CSI.
"She's not breathing, sir," one of the paramedics said gently before returning to his patient.
They quickly carried Sara out of the apartment and left a stunned Grissom in the doorway.
Not breathing, he thought. She was breathing a minute ago. How could she not be breathing anymore? Sara had crawled across the floor. She was breathing then, but not now? Then, but not anymore? Grissom kept seeing the paramedic inflating the bag, forcing air into her lungs. She had been carried out, but the image persisted. His world seemed to stall and then lurch forward. It was unlike anything in his experience. Grissom was empty. He still stood in the apartment. The dizziness wasn't new, but the flurry of activity continued to keep him off balance as he could feel people brush by. The smoke had started to abate. He wondered idly why they hadn't brought a fan in. The fire department usually brought fans to extract the smoke. He knew that Brass continued speaking to him. What he said, Grissom didn't register. Brass just continued speaking, then wrapped one arm around his back and walked them out of the apartment.
Suddenly, Grissom realized that Sara wasn't near him. She wasn't in the hallway. She wasn't waiting for him. Sara wasn't breathing and she wasn't in the hallway. That was all he knew. She wasn't near him. Grissom broke Brass's hold and ignored the concerned look on his friend's face. He needed to find Sara, because she wasn't near him.
TBC