Warrick finally felt the tape around his wrists give when the engine beneath the floorboards rumbled to life.
"We gotta move fast," Warrick said. "Once we're free, jump overboard."
"Shouldn't we try to stop Brandt and Abby?" Nick asked.
Warrick tore the rest of the tape from his wrists and reached down to free his ankles. "You're in no shape to stop anybody, man," he pointed out. "You need to grab a life jacket and jump over. I'll handle those two."
"I'm not leaving you to do this by yourself, man," Nick argued. "Forget it."
Warrick finished freeing himself and went to Nick's side. "I'll throw you over myself if I have to."
"Yeah, you're just worried that I won't leave you any action," Nick retorted. He rubbed his raw wrists and sat up.
"Whatever," Warrick replied. "C'mon. The sooner we do this, the sooner I can get your butt in front of Grissom. You left me to explain what happened at Jackson's apartment."
Nick winced. "How mad was he?"
"I'll let you find that out for yourself." Warrick tossed the rest of the tape aside and gave Nick a hand up. "Let's go."
"Right behind you."
Warrick slowly opened the door to their cell and looked cautiously outside. A set of stairs stood before him, leading up to the deck. There was a door on his right that led to the engine room, and a door on his left that Warrick supposed led to a cabin. He nodded to Nick, then crept silently up the stairs.
The moon was rising over the dark waters of Lake Mead as the shoreline sped away from them. In the distance, Warrick spied a white cutter with a large searchlight on the bow.
"Cavalry's on the way," Warrick whispered. "I'll go right, you go left. We'll meet at the helm."
"Good luck," Nick whispered back, slipping past Warrick in the direction he'd been given.
Warrick carefully stepped out onto the deck, trying not to be heard. Though surprise was on his side, he knew that that could change at any given moment.
A force suddenly shoved Warrick against the rail from behind, bending him over. A harsh voice hissed in his ear.
"You and your friend are more trouble than you're worth," Brandt said angrily. "If you're here, the other one must be out, too. Where is he?"
"I sent him overboard to wait for the police cutter," Warrick shot back, trying to gain leverage.
"You're lying," Brandt stated.
"Well, you'll find that out soon enough," Warrick said. "How far do you think you'll get? You kidnapped two officers, assaulting one. They're not just going to let you go."
"Shut up!" Brandt lessened his pressure slightly, intending to crush Warrick into the railing again. Warrick was ready, and instead forced Brandt backwards into the wall behind them. The shock of impact caused Brandt to release Warrick, who spun around and threw his fist at his assailant.
Brandt recovered and deflected the blow. His fist shot out, connecting solidly with Warrick's stomach. Warrick let out a whoosh of air and staggered back.
That was all Brandt needed. He seized Warrick around the throat with both hands and forced him back against the railing. Warrick clawed at Brandt's face, pressing his thumbs hard into Brandt's eyes. Brandt let out a low roar and gave Warrick a rough shove before releasing him.
Warrick let out a gasp as he felt himself fall back over the railing. He reached for anything to stop his topple, but came up with air.
Brandt cursed silently as he watched the CSI disappear into the water. He hadn't intended to leave any witnesses behind. With a final glance at the water, Brandt turned and decided to find and deal with his last remaining hostage.
Warrick surfaced and shook his head, dislodging water droplets from his hair. He watched the boat race away, an awful unease settling in his stomach. Nick was now on his own, unaware that Brandt knew he was loose.
The CSI looked back at the approaching police cutter. It was picking up speed, but it would still be another ten minutes before it reached him.
The worried faces of his coworkers were what Warrick saw first. The cutter slowed, and Warrick swam to the ladder and hauled himself out of the chilly lake.
Catherine threw a blanket around his shoulders as Brass barked at the operator to continue. Warrick looked at the people around him and found himself meeting Grissom's eyes.
Grissom had always been aloof, for as long as Warrick had known him. His eyes had only ever held interest, curiosity, and thoughtfulness. Now, however, Warrick saw concern, some anger, and fear.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"Brandt surprised me," Warrick answered. "He's going after Nick. We have to hurry."
"Believe me, we're going as fast as we can," Brass assured him.
Warrick glanced at Brass, then back to Grissom. "I'm sorry, Gris. I didn't mean to leave Nick alone."
Grissom nodded. "I know, Warrick, I know. We'll get there in time."
The supervisor turned to watch the racing boat, his thoughts swirling in his head. He hoped that his sentiment would turn out to be true.
Nick edged cautiously into the control room, looking around for some sign of life. Finding no one, he entered the room and walked up to the helm controls, looking around. While he waited for Warrick, he could radio the cutter and find something to use as a weapon.
The young CSI began to hunt around the controls. Growing up in Texas, he hadn't been around too many boats. Everything looked pretty much the same to him.
Just as Nick's hand fell on the radio, something cold and metallic pressed firmly into the base of his neck. The CSI froze, panic stabbing at his heart.
"Move your hands where I can see them, nice and slow," Brandt ordered.
Nick swallowed thickly, but obeyed.
Something snapped around his right wrist. Nick felt his arm being tugged behind his back as his left wrist was fastened to his right. The ratching sound was odd at first, but Nick recognized it as handcuffs.
"Something I picked up from your friend earlier today," Brandt said by way of explanation.
"Where is he?" Nick demanded, cursing his shaky voice. "What did you do to him?"
The pressure of the gun was lifted, and Nick felt himself being yanked towards the door. "You'll be joinin' him soon enough," Brandt replied.
Nick was forced back onto the deck and towards the stern. Abby was waiting impatiently with a thick coil of rope and two cement blocks.
"Let's hurry up and dump him so we can get out of here," she stated.
Nick stopped and stumbled back, his stomach lurching when he realized what Brandt and Abby were going to do with him. Brandt took his arm and tried to force him forward, but Nick began to fight back.
"N-No!" he yelled. "Please! Don't do this!"
Brandt swung his gun, striking Nick on the side of the head. Nick slumped to the deck, his vision dimming, but he didn't lose consciousness.
Brandt dragged Nick over to Abby and began to wind rope around Nick's ankles. Abby wrapped the other end through one of the cement blocks and tied it tightly.
"No," Nick mumbled, feeling tears prickle his eyes. "No, please."
Abby lifted the cement block and balanced it on the railing as Brandt slid his hands under Nick's arms and hefted him.
"They're getting closer!" Abby bellowed. "Let's dump him now!"
Brandt grunted as he raised Nick higher. He began to tip Nick over the railing when pain abruptly exploded in his arm. Brandt cried out and dropped Nick- hard- onto the deck.
"Ty!" Abby cried.
"Get to the helm!" Brandt barked through clenched teeth. "I'll take care of him!"
Abby hesitated, concern on her face, but she finally turned and hurried away. Nick watched her go, then looked up at Brandt. His eyes pleaded with his captor, but he knew it was futile.
Brandt was going to kill him.
"Got him!" Brass yelled victoriously.
"We're not finished yet," Grissom reminded him.
"Can't we go any faster?" Warrick demanded, shrugging his blanket onto the deck.
"We're already exceeding the maximum speed recommended for this boat!" another officer shouted.
"Brass!" Catherine suddenly yelled, pointing at the vessel they were pursuing.
Brandt had Nick in his arms despite his gunshot wound. He shifted the struggling CSI into one beefy arm and lifted the cement block with the other. Before Brass could line up another shot, Brandt gave a mighty heave and sent Nick overboard.
"No!" Warrick cried.
As the police cutter flew by the spot where Nick had disappeared below the surface, Warrick dove into the water. Catherine followed him in mere seconds later.
"Keep on them!" Brass ordered.
The officer guiding the cutter maneuvered the boat off of Brandt's port side, edging slowly past. Every gun on the cutter was trained on the offenders' boat, just looking for a reason to fire.
"We're nearing shallow waters!" the police officer warned.
"Run them aground!" Grissom commanded.
The officer glanced at the supervisor, then nodded. "Hang on!"
The cutter managed to put on a burst of speed, swinging around and cutting into the boat's path. Whoever was at the controls was surprised, because the boat swerved to the right. It hit the shallow water and bucked sharply before coming to a stop.
The cutter wasn't even at a complete stop as the officers, Grissom, and Sara all swarmed the boat, intent on capturing Brandt and Abby. By the time the CSIs found them, they were on their knees with their hands cuffed behind their backs.
Brandt looked at Grissom and sneered. "You're too late. By now, your friend is at the bottom of the lake."
A red haze settled in front of Grissom's eyes. In a move that shocked everyone, he darted forward and grabbed Brandt by the throat. He leaned close to Brandt's face.
"If anything happens to him, and I mean anything, so help me God, I'll-," Grissom hissed.
"You'll what?" Brandt taunted.
Brass forced Grissom to release Brandt and led him away. Sara followed, too stunned to speak.
"Take it easy, Gil," Brass soothed. "We got 'em. They're not going anywhere. More squad cars are on the way."
"Radio dispatch and have an ambulance sent," Grissom ordered, stalking back to the cutter. "We need to pick up the rest of my team."
The water in Lake Mead was as cold as ice, sending chills down Warrick's spine as he pushed his way down. Warrick barely noticed; with the concrete block attached to Nick's ankles, his friend was sinking fast.
Visibility was poor in the murky water, especially with no sunlight illuminating the lake from above. Warrick swam after the receding bubbles in near panic.
After what seemed like ages, he reached the bottom of the lake. Just inches away, Nick was thrashing in desperation, trying to free himself. Pleading brown eyes met determined green, begging for help.
Catherine appeared beside Warrick, heading for the rope that kept Nick anchored to the floor of the lake. Her fingers slipped over the slick cords, not loosening in the slightest.
Warrick tried to attack the knot that was attached to the concrete block, but with the same result. He glanced up in time to see complete, overwhelming terror flicker in Nick's eyes. A stab of fear pierced Warrick's gut as Nick's head lolled and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. A final rush of bubbles exited Nick's nose and mouth, then nothing.
Catherine snatched a sharp rock from the floor and began to hack at the rope. The instant it finally gave, Warrick wrapped an arm around Nick and kicked off from the floor, racing to the surface.
He felt more than saw Catherine swim past him. His own lungs were burning for air, but he could feel Nick's unmoving body under his arm, and that spurred him on.
Warrick broke the surface beside Catherine, gasping for breath. He looked for the cutter, seeing it race for them.
"How's Nick?" Catherine demanded.
"He's not breathing," Warrick told her. "He needs help now."
"Damn," Catherine breathed.
For five, tense minutes, they watched as the cutter drew closer. As soon as it was near enough, Warrick hauled Nick up into the waiting arms of Grissom and Brass. Catherine pulled herself back onto the boat, but Warrick accepted the hand up Sara offered.
Grissom and Brass gently laid Nick down on the deck. They didn't bother with the handcuffs just yet; their main concern was reviving the young CSI.
Nick's lips were blue, and his skin was pale. Grissom checked for a pulse, then tipped Nick's chin forward and began to pump firmly over Nick's heart, his face a mask of concentration.
Catherine scrambled over to Nick's side and breathed air into Nick's lungs. Nick's chest rose and fell with the help, but did nothing more.
Brass barked an order to get to the shore, but help was still so far away. He, Warrick, and Sara stood helpless, watching the drama unfold with bated breath.
"Come on, Nick," Grissom said grimly. "Breathe!"
Warrick was suddenly struck by a memory of Nick, this time lying on a bathroom floor as Warrick fought to save his life. Had it really been just two nights ago? It seemed as though a lifetime had passed.
Tears were streaming down Sara's face, but she didn't seem to notice. Warrick felt the familiar prickle in his own eyes as minute after minute went by with no sign of life from their friend.
"Gil," Brass said softly, shakily.
Grissom ignored him, continuing CPR now at a furious pace. "Breathe, Nick, breathe!"
Catherine breathed into Nick's mouth one more time, then sat back. Only then did Warrick see her red-rimmed blue eyes.
"He's not breathing," she said thickly. "He won't breathe."
"Then make him!" Grissom snapped. "Come on, Nick. You never ignored an order before! Don't start now! Breathe, damnit! Breathe!"
"Gil, it's over!" Brass shouted, trying unsuccessfully to restrain Grissom. "Let him go."
Warrick closed his eyes in pain. Unbidden, an image of Nick's eyes while underwater appeared in his mind. So afraid, yet trusting Warrick to help him.
"No!"
The anguished cry caused Warrick's eyes to fly open. Grissom was possessed with raw energy, and he renewed his attack on Nick's lifeless body.
"Don't you dare give up!" he bellowed. No one was certain as to whom Grissom was yelling, but their shock and grief had rendered them silent. Catherine sat beside Nick, crying openly now. Warrick wrapped an arm around Sara's thin shoulders and drew her close, both with rears staining their cheeks. Brass shook his head and turned to look at the water, his shoulders slumped.
Suddenly, Nick's body seized up, water pouring out of his mouth. Catherine let out a choked sob of surprise as she helped Grissom turn Nick onto his side. Brass, Warrick, and Sara could only stare, dumbfounded, hardly daring to believe their eyes.
Grissom's sharp voice cut through them, spurring them into action. "Sara, run and get some blankets to dry him off and ward off the chill! Jim, get these damned cuffs off of him!"
Once Nick's hands were free, he was settled more comfortably on his back. Sara returned with three blankets, which they firmly tucked around their friend. In response, Nick moaned lightly and lifted heavy eyelids.
Catherine's hands cupped his face. Brass gripped one hand while Warrick took the other. Sara hovered over Catherine's shoulder. Nick tiredly noted all their wide grins before meeting Grissom's eyes.
"Hey, boss," he whispered faintly. "You miss me?"
Grissom smiled gently and rested a hand atop Nick's head in a distinctly paternal way. "The lab's just not the same without you, Nick. Get some rest. You're going to be all right."
The corners of Nick's mouth lifted ever so slightly. His eyes slid shut as if of their own volition, and he quickly surrendered to the impending darkness. A final, comforting thought warmed his body just before he passed out.
He was safe.