a/n: Thanks for all the reviews—I'll stop complaining about no one reading this. :o)

Anxiety

Sara paced the waiting room, nervously chewing at her fingernails. Worse-case scenarios kept popping in her mind, and she almost dreaded each time she saw a doctor go by.

She heard Catherine sigh from a lounge chair.

"Sara, would you sit down, please?" Her tone was less than polite, and Sara got the hint. She sat down by Catherine.

"Do you think he's okay?"

Catherine sighed and brushed her blond hair away from her face. "I don't know. Grissom and Warrick said he looked pretty bad."

"How bad?" Sara started to wring her hands, until she saw the warning look Catherine gave her. Sara leaned back in the chair, temporarily defeated. "I hate waiting."

By the time the doctor did come out to talk with them, Warrick and Grissom arrived. The four CSIs listened solemnly as the doctor listed the injuries.

"Probably the most severe injury was his fractured ribs. One broke completely. On top of that, he was beaten so savagely that he started to bleed from his lungs," the doctor said. Sara gulped as a pit dropped in her stomach. "I'm amazed he could move around at all with these types of injury."

The four CSIs stared at the doctor, unready to high-five each other at such tame optimism. The doctor cleared his throat.

"He's recovering from surgery right now," he went on. "He should pull through, but he has to be kept quiet. There is a danger that the lung may collapse, but we're monitoring him closely."

No one voiced any comment or question. Sara opened her mouth but couldn't bring herself to utter any words. The doctor glanced from face to face of each CSI, giving each a moment.

"Listen, despite his condition, I think Mr. Stokes will be fine," the doctor said. "But you should prepare yourselves. He's going to be sore for long time."

Grissom seemed to find his voice first.

"Do you have his clothes?" he asked, resuming his role as a CSI. The doctor nodded.

"Yes. I assume you want it for evidence," the doctor answered. "We also took photos, documenting Mr. Stokes' condition. I'll get a copy to you."

"Okay." Grissom cleared his throat, and Greg, Sara, Catherine and Warrick quietly turned to face him. They sat around a cold pizza and various notes.

"What do we have?" Grissom prompted. Warrick jumped in first, albeit pessimistically.

"Not much," Warrick said. "Most of Nick's house is up in smoke, and the evidence with it."

"Yeah, but that may not matter anyway," Catherine interjected. "I found smudged prints on the plastic ties used on Nick's wrists and feet."

"Smudged as in salvageable?" Grissom asked, raising an eyebrow. Catherine shook her head.

"Smudged as in the assailant covered his tracks with gloves." That quieted everyone for a moment, until Greg worked up the courage to put in his two cents.

"Well, the liquid on Nick's clothes is definitely gasoline," the lab tech said. He cringed just thinking about whatever happened to Nick. He didn't even know the whole story, but then again, that's why they were gathered now. "Nothing unusual about it, just your standard gas used at any station in the southwestern United States."

Grissom sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Did the doctor deliver any evidence from Nick?" Sara asked. Gil glanced at her, then at a file he opened reluctantly. He gave it a shove, and a slew of photos fanned out over the table.

The CSIs gasped. The photos were . . . horrifying. As Sara looked at them, she instantly wanted to shut out the sight. The investigator in her made her look, even though her stomach churned.

The 8 x 10 glossy photos showed various parts of Nick. His stomach, his torso, his shoulder, his legs and hip. His face.

Bruises. Some so deep that they spread over several inches of Nick's body.

"Nicky."

It was Catherine who let it slip, and it drove the emotional nail through each of them. Sara gulped back the lump in her throat, and looked up at her boss.

He wasn't even looking. His hands were tucked in his pockets and he looked around the room, out to the hallway, anything to avoid the evidence in the photos. Sara blinked several times, and took a deep breath.

"It seems we don't have much," Sara said as professionally as she could. "No matter the evidence we have, it's not pointing to a suspect."

"Even if it did, I don't think we should pursue him," Greg said. Stunned silence followed as everyone's eyes turned to him. He held up his hands before the verbal lynching could start. "I think we all know who's responsible for this. Maybe we should take them seriously."

"Greg—" Warrick started to object.

"He may be right." It was Catherine's turn to get the scrutiny. She paused before explaining herself. "Nick was ready to give up the investigation into Paige Landry. We hit dead ends there as well."

"Well, if Nick was stopping the investigation, why did they still go after him?" Sara asked.

"Maybe they didn't see it that way," Grissom said. "Maybe Nick stopped too late." He sighed. "Do we have anything else?"

Another round of silence passed.

"I want one of us at the hospital, to stay with Nick," he said. "Brass has two uniforms outside his door, but Nick needs more than protection now."

The group nodded.

"I'll go," Sara said.

The first thing he noticed was the tube in his mouth. Well, he didn't know it was a tube, but just having in his mouth, halfway lodged in his throat, freaked him out. Nick started to gag.

"Nick! Calm down. Just relax," he heard someone say. "It's not hurting you."

Nick begged to differ on that, but he couldn't really voice his objections with that blasted tube down his throat.

"Nick, I'm going to get the doctor, okay?" He opened his eyes for the first time, and saw it was Grissom. The CSI boss showed a concerned look to him, and quickly left the room.

Nick shut his eyes again. He felt sore. His chest especially . . .

"Nick?"

He shifted his head towards the force, but didn't open his eyes.

"I'm Dr. Craven," the voice said again. Nick felt something, right over his eyes. Suddenly a bright light blinded him, and he cringed at the pain it triggered.

"It's okay, Nick," he heard Craven say. The tube scratched in his mouth again, and Nick coughed. Pain exploded in his chest. He felt a hand over his chest, another one at his shoulder, trying to keep him down.

"Nick, calm down," Craven said. "I'm going to remove the tube, okay?" Nick nodded between restraining his coughs. Suddenly, he felt something being yanked from his throat.

Nick coughed again, a sickening garble of friction in his lungs and throat. It hurt, crazy and intense. The fit subsided, but not long before Nick succumb to the exhaustion. As he drifted into unconsciousness, he vaguely heard the fading voices of Dr. Craven and Grissom.

He woke up again, this time without that tube, and with a little less pain. Nick opened his mouth, stretching his jaw. He scratched at his neck, which was still a bit sore.

"Nick? You okay?"

He opened his eyes to see Sara staring at him. He nodded slightly. "I'm—" He coughed again, and instantly clutched his chest.

"Shhh, it's okay. You don't have to talk," Sara said. He felt her hand on his arm, giving him a gently squeeze of reassurance.

"The doctor said you're healing faster than he thought," she said, her voice a little too sweet. "We were worried."

Nick wanted to talk back, but his throat and chest just hurt too much. Sara didn't seem to mind.

"We've figured that it was, uh, a hit. Probably the same people who killed Paige," Sara said. "We're still working on the evidence, but a lot was destroyed."

Nick's mind flickered to the flames in his home, to the heat that destroyed . . . my house. Sadness ran over him. His life was . . . things would change. Nothing would be the same.

And he just might never be safe. He shut his eyes as he continued to listen to Sara rattle off findings and random thoughts.

Grissom grimaced, his only indication that he wasn't getting anywhere. But it wasn't a surprise to Greg. Everyone knew it. The suspect disappeared, like when Paige was murdered. The evidence was mostly burnt up.

After a week of investigating, it was a dead end, and it angered everyone. No one wanted to give up. Nick deserved justice, closure.

Gil sighed and left Greg's lab. The young technician gave a sigh of his own, and started to tidy his desk.

The Patterson case file and Landry case file were stacked amongst his workload, more for reference than anything else. He opened the first file, not really looking but just for something to do. He opened the next file, closed it—

And opened it back up. He stared at the DNA readout for Paige Landry. He reopened the Patterson file, his eyes flickering to the DNA readout of the sample Paige gave.

He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. He couldn't be seeing this right.

Greg moved the two readouts side by side.

"No way," he muttered as he studied the printouts.

The DNA didn't match.

another a/n: Sorry--I'm not really pleased with how Nick's condition/injuries turned out. I don't know if I'm explaining it correctly, but hopefully it seemed okay to you all. Thanks!