Author's note: Again, sorry for the wait. What with school and all. I'll try to update at least every Saturday, if not sooner, guys!! Yay!
Spoilers: None in this chapter.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but when I take over the world they will be!!
*****************
11:00 PM Wednesday
Brass checked his watch for the third time and sighed impatiently as he looked to the door for Sara and Grissom, hoping to see them walk out. But, like the other three times, the door didn't budge.
"Geez, just how long are they gonna be in there?" he mumbled to himself as he checked his watch again.
Brass heard footsteps behind him, but he kept his eyes on the house.
"Excuse me, sir?" said the young voice behind him.
Slightly annoyed, Brass turned around. He met a pair of young brown eyes. The rookie was holding a cell phone in his hand.
"What is it, Officer Formsma?"
"Well, sir, you have a phone call. They won't speak to anyone but you. They said it was about the two CSI's on this case."
Brass creased his eyebrows and took the phone. Officer Formsma gradually backed away.
"Yeah, Brass here," the captain said in a gruff voice.
A low voice barely reached his ears from the other end.
"I have your CSI's. Don't expect to trace this. I'll call you, don't try to call me."
"Who is this?" demanded Brass.
"Just keep in mind that I have your CSI's and that I won't hesitate to hurt them. I'll be in touch."
The line went dead.
Brass stared at the phone briefly before turning to his men.
"11-99!" he shouted, " Our CSI's need help!"
The search was on.
*****************
He heard laughing. A beautiful sound that was cutting through the darkness. It was soft, gentle, and he wanted to reach out and kiss the lips making the wonderful noise that cut through this hell. And not only that, but he knew who that laugh belonged to.
Grissom could almost see her face. Her smile. The wave of her hair as she leaned down to examine a piece of evidence at a crime scene.
Crime scene.
It was the key that unlocked his memory. Sara. A case. Bedroom. A gun. Oh God!
He groaned as pain shot through his temple like lightning as he rushed into consciousness. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain to go away. Grissom rolled over on his side and slowly pushed himself to his knees. Opening his eyes, he blinked.
The room spun around him, shadows mixing with what little light invaded the room. Blinking again, he tried to focus on something, anything. His sight finally settled and he slowly got to his feet.
Grissom turned his head from side to side. The room was damp and water dripped lethargically from the pipes to the cement below. He could tell he was in a basement by the stairs that creaked ever so often in the corner. Whose basement was it? Was he even still in Vegas?
Cans of paint sat on rotting wood shelves. Cardboard boxes and cobwebs littered the basement. A dusty calendar sat on an old workbench in the corner. Grissom searched the room frantically when he realized that he didn't see Sara. Then he heard a groan.
Grissom spun around, but dizziness caught up with him and he fell to the ground. Lifting his head he looked into the far corner, lit a little by light filtering in through a gap in the boarded up window above his head. He smiled and let his head fall back to the ground when he saw movement. Calmly, he crawled over to Sara.
"Grissom?" she groaned, then coughed.
"Yeah, it's me. Sara, are you ok?"
Grissom could see Sara sit up. Her head fell back against the wall, and her hand went to her head. She coughed again as he pulled his body up and sat next to her.
"I think I'm ok. I've got one hell of a headache, though," she paused, then timidly asked, " How 'bout you?"
Turning his head, Grissom smiled at her and shrugged.
"I've been better," he whispered.
They stared at each other briefly, before shyly turning away. Sara cleared her throat.
"What time is it, Griss?"
Taking his eyes off the floor, Grissom reached for his wrist, but his fingers didn't make contact with the cool metal of his watch. He shook his head.
"I don't know. They took my watch," he said as he searched the floor around him.
Sara checked her wrist, and found her watch was also missing. She checked her pockets, hoping that by some miracle their kidnappers hadn't found her cell. No luck.
Their eyes scanned the room for any sign of their stuff. Finally they gave up.
"Do you think everyone knows where we are?"
Grissom bit his lip in thought, and after awhile, carefully nodded.
"Yeah. We haven't come back from the crime scene yet, and Brass was standing right outside the house. Plus, our kidnappers must have made a ransom call by now. They're probably outside right now making negotiations. We'll be out of here in no time."
For a few more seconds things were silent. Sara sighed.
"We're not at the crime scene, and they're not outside, Grissom," she said.
"How do you know?" he asked accusingly.
"If we were at the scene, we would be able to hear sirens, radios, people. Even through that stupid closed window. But listen," she paused and Grissom strained his ears and listened.
"Nothing," she mumbled.
Grissom closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. As he let it out, all hope slipped from his tired body, until he felt a warm hand grab his own. Hope was rekindled as he stared down at the clasped hands.
"They'll find us. Like you said, we'll be out of here in no time."
Grissom nodded weakly and squeezed Sara's hand. A million unspoken emotions flooded his heart.
"Sara… there's something I have to tell you. I just…" but he was cut off.
The door to the basement swung open, crashing against the wall. Bright light poured into the basement, and an unfamiliar shadow stood at the top of the stairs.
Whoever it was held a gun.
Something told them this wasn't a knight in shining armor, though. They also realized just how ugly things were going to get.
Spoilers: None in this chapter.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but when I take over the world they will be!!
*****************
11:00 PM Wednesday
Brass checked his watch for the third time and sighed impatiently as he looked to the door for Sara and Grissom, hoping to see them walk out. But, like the other three times, the door didn't budge.
"Geez, just how long are they gonna be in there?" he mumbled to himself as he checked his watch again.
Brass heard footsteps behind him, but he kept his eyes on the house.
"Excuse me, sir?" said the young voice behind him.
Slightly annoyed, Brass turned around. He met a pair of young brown eyes. The rookie was holding a cell phone in his hand.
"What is it, Officer Formsma?"
"Well, sir, you have a phone call. They won't speak to anyone but you. They said it was about the two CSI's on this case."
Brass creased his eyebrows and took the phone. Officer Formsma gradually backed away.
"Yeah, Brass here," the captain said in a gruff voice.
A low voice barely reached his ears from the other end.
"I have your CSI's. Don't expect to trace this. I'll call you, don't try to call me."
"Who is this?" demanded Brass.
"Just keep in mind that I have your CSI's and that I won't hesitate to hurt them. I'll be in touch."
The line went dead.
Brass stared at the phone briefly before turning to his men.
"11-99!" he shouted, " Our CSI's need help!"
The search was on.
*****************
He heard laughing. A beautiful sound that was cutting through the darkness. It was soft, gentle, and he wanted to reach out and kiss the lips making the wonderful noise that cut through this hell. And not only that, but he knew who that laugh belonged to.
Grissom could almost see her face. Her smile. The wave of her hair as she leaned down to examine a piece of evidence at a crime scene.
Crime scene.
It was the key that unlocked his memory. Sara. A case. Bedroom. A gun. Oh God!
He groaned as pain shot through his temple like lightning as he rushed into consciousness. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain to go away. Grissom rolled over on his side and slowly pushed himself to his knees. Opening his eyes, he blinked.
The room spun around him, shadows mixing with what little light invaded the room. Blinking again, he tried to focus on something, anything. His sight finally settled and he slowly got to his feet.
Grissom turned his head from side to side. The room was damp and water dripped lethargically from the pipes to the cement below. He could tell he was in a basement by the stairs that creaked ever so often in the corner. Whose basement was it? Was he even still in Vegas?
Cans of paint sat on rotting wood shelves. Cardboard boxes and cobwebs littered the basement. A dusty calendar sat on an old workbench in the corner. Grissom searched the room frantically when he realized that he didn't see Sara. Then he heard a groan.
Grissom spun around, but dizziness caught up with him and he fell to the ground. Lifting his head he looked into the far corner, lit a little by light filtering in through a gap in the boarded up window above his head. He smiled and let his head fall back to the ground when he saw movement. Calmly, he crawled over to Sara.
"Grissom?" she groaned, then coughed.
"Yeah, it's me. Sara, are you ok?"
Grissom could see Sara sit up. Her head fell back against the wall, and her hand went to her head. She coughed again as he pulled his body up and sat next to her.
"I think I'm ok. I've got one hell of a headache, though," she paused, then timidly asked, " How 'bout you?"
Turning his head, Grissom smiled at her and shrugged.
"I've been better," he whispered.
They stared at each other briefly, before shyly turning away. Sara cleared her throat.
"What time is it, Griss?"
Taking his eyes off the floor, Grissom reached for his wrist, but his fingers didn't make contact with the cool metal of his watch. He shook his head.
"I don't know. They took my watch," he said as he searched the floor around him.
Sara checked her wrist, and found her watch was also missing. She checked her pockets, hoping that by some miracle their kidnappers hadn't found her cell. No luck.
Their eyes scanned the room for any sign of their stuff. Finally they gave up.
"Do you think everyone knows where we are?"
Grissom bit his lip in thought, and after awhile, carefully nodded.
"Yeah. We haven't come back from the crime scene yet, and Brass was standing right outside the house. Plus, our kidnappers must have made a ransom call by now. They're probably outside right now making negotiations. We'll be out of here in no time."
For a few more seconds things were silent. Sara sighed.
"We're not at the crime scene, and they're not outside, Grissom," she said.
"How do you know?" he asked accusingly.
"If we were at the scene, we would be able to hear sirens, radios, people. Even through that stupid closed window. But listen," she paused and Grissom strained his ears and listened.
"Nothing," she mumbled.
Grissom closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. As he let it out, all hope slipped from his tired body, until he felt a warm hand grab his own. Hope was rekindled as he stared down at the clasped hands.
"They'll find us. Like you said, we'll be out of here in no time."
Grissom nodded weakly and squeezed Sara's hand. A million unspoken emotions flooded his heart.
"Sara… there's something I have to tell you. I just…" but he was cut off.
The door to the basement swung open, crashing against the wall. Bright light poured into the basement, and an unfamiliar shadow stood at the top of the stairs.
Whoever it was held a gun.
Something told them this wasn't a knight in shining armor, though. They also realized just how ugly things were going to get.