Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing.

Also this chapter was written about 5 days ago, I like to stay about 4-5 chapters ahead of what is posted. The fact that No Humans Involved had a boot print last night is pure coincidence.

Thanks

Sheila

Nick almost wished they hadn't told him that she had sustained no bullet wounds. He had relaxed when he heard that. He was unprepared for the sight of her badly beaten face. Every movement on the gurney sent waves of pain through her. He could physically see the pain ripple through her. They were talking about lungs and internal bleeding. As if to confirm their conversation, red froth dribbled out of the side of her mouth.

Grissom was with her, one hand on her healthy arm, gently talking to her. He seemed unaware of his surroundings. Paramedics moved him aside periodically as they swarmed around her. Grissom paid no attention. He just edged his way back in.

Warrick stood there, his gun still at his side, unholstered. Nick was going to go up to him, but then Brass was there, one hand on the gun, talking quietly into Warrick's ear. Warrick closed his eyes with the realization, and carefully holstered his weapon. Then Brass walked away again, barking more orders into a cell phone.

There was a woman and her children, occupants of the house. They had stumbled back from the neighbor's in various states of shock. The mother kept one hand on an angry, purple cheek. Her children huddled on the driveway around her.

All of a sudden, Catherine was there. She was wearing a dress. Nick remembered that Lindsay had a dance recital today. Catherine pushed past anyone in her way, and stopped dead in front of the gurney. She was next to him and Nick reached out, but she pushed him away. She reached in to see Sara. Paramedics pushed her back, and she tried again. Nick gently grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back. She struggled for a second, and then turned her face to his. Her eyes were red and puffy.

"This was my case," she hissed into his face. "I should have been here."

Nick shook his head and pulled her in for a hug. Warrick was standing with them now, arms folded awkwardly. Grissom was finally ejected while they loaded her into the ambulance. He turned around and looked at his staff as if unsure how to proceed. His face was red and his eyes looked unfocused.

Brass came over. He started to say something, but Grissom cut him off.

"There is a boot print on her face, Jim. A heel print on her left cheek." His voice was low and dangerous.

Brass breathed in through his teeth and shook his head. "I bet you're ready for some good news then."

Brass had all their attention now. "We got 'em. They're sitting at the local dive not five miles from here swigging shots and planning their next move."

"Where?" Warrick's voice was soft but steady.

"Sorry guys, this party is a private one only. I know you want to see these primates. Just give me a couple of hours to send them through booking. Then I'll have a little conversation with them. You are welcome to join me…well, from behind the glass anyway. I want these guys solid, no missteps, no misplaced aggression. Okay?" Without waiting for a reply, Brass turned and strode off in the direction of a waiting police car.

………………………………

Sara wished everyone would talk to her more. They could see she was still awake. How the hell could anyone sleep with these bright lights and the poking and prodding on her tortured body. They threw out words like surgery from time to time, and she was seriously interested in more information about that.

She tried to talk but pain jolted through her face when she tried to open her mouth. Surely, this was a joke. It wasn't bad enough that she had been severely beaten by a couple of low life thugs, now they took away her speech. She narrowed her eyes and grunted her disapproval. A nurse stopped for a moment and smiled at her.

"It's okay, sweetie, you're going to be okay," she crooned before returning to her IV.

She grunted again and swung her free arm out wildly. An answering grunt told her she made contact with something.

"All right now, no hitting the doctor," came a gritted reply as her arm was coaxed back to the side.

Like she was the 5 year old girl, this is how they spoke to her. She moaned her helplessness softly as tears of frustration burned her cheek. They stung as they rolled into the abrasions on her face.

There was movement at the curtain and voices, insistent ones. Someone was speaking her name to the people working on her. Mumbled replies were given, she could make out nothing more than her name. Then the nurse sighed and nodded.

Grissom's face loomed above hers blocking out the glare of the light. She tried to speak, tell him what she needed, but the pain took over again. All she had were her wet, brown eyes.

"Hey you. I hear you punched the doctor. They don't like that, you know. Bet you want to know what's going on, don't you? They don't really know the patient, easygoing Sara we do." His hand squeezed hers and she squeezed back hard.

He winced a little. "Oooh, as bad all that then. Well okay, how about we get you up to speed."

"So they got some X-rays, and they are looking them over now. They wanted to know what's broken and what's bleeding. They are thinking of surgery, but we are hoping to wait on that. Body can do a tremendous amount of healing on its own." His voice was like a glass of cool water.

She nodded at him jerkily.

"The gang's all here. You got a lot of support out there, Sara. Doc Robbins is here. He elbowed his way into the X-ray room. Pretty much didn't give them a choice. We're hoping he can give us an update. You know how we CSI's are for plain talk. No sugar coated conversation for us."

Her face attempted a small grin, but quickly aborted the effort. He smiled down at her.

"I'm in their way now, but I'll stay if you want."

She nodded and new tears wet her lashes.

"Okay, no need for all that now. I'm not going anywhere. So…let's see. What else to tell you? Greg's here. He's pacing like a pit bull at the dog pound. Didn't respond to repeated feedback so Archie threw his coffee at him. So now Greg's sulking some. Making threats about Archie needing to replace his expensive UNLV t-shirt. David ate 4 candy bars out of the machine. He's doubled over now. Jacqui is trying to get some syrup of Ipecac out of the nurse. And your buddies….well, they are down at the police station staring at your attackers through the mirror. Brass isn't going to let them get any closer than that. Kind of sorry I'm missing it though. Brass can get pretty poetic in there when he's mad. I like watching him when he wants to carve their hearts out with a butter knife. I imagine they're going to be sorry their mothers ever met their fathers…But, really I would much rather be here making sure the hospital staff is safe and that you are well informed."

……………………………….........................................................................................

Warrick was disappointed. His rage surely should be awarded by the presence of pure evil. But the two men he saw through the glass looked like nothing more than a couple of half drunk losers. It was amazing how often stupid and mean together could result in viciousness.

Beside him, Catherine was focused like a hawk, her face right to the glass. Warrick let a grin form at one end of his mouth at the picture of Catherine in the interrogation room. They would get over their misogyny real quick. It would be replaced with a life long fear of the fairer sex.

And then there was Nicky whose jaw was set tight as he stared at the suspects. Nick was an interesting man. Once he chose a friend, that was it. He was loyal and solid and fierce. Warrick had learned this first hand, and he appreciated what Nick taught him about friendship. Nick was going to feel Sara's pain. He was going to wonder what he could have done and where he should have been. Sara was probably going to find it a struggle to leave the lab on her own ever again.

……………………………….............................................................................................

Brass shook his head at the two men seated before him. Right now they were playing the role of upstanding citizens baffled by the actions of the Vegas police force. They weren't convincing, not asking the right questions, outraged by the wrong things. Brass figured that he would have this in hand within the next half hour.

"Hey man. When are we going to get our shoes back?" The ex-husband sat back with his arms folded.

"Probably not getting 'em back, boys. You see, one of them is going to be the match to the print we found on your victim's face." Brass shrugged. "Don't worry though. Where you're going, they can set you up with a nice pair canvas tennis shoes.

"We didn't hurt that cop."

"She's not a cop, boys?"

"So you're saying that she wasn't a cop, and therefore whoever hit her isn't facing the mandatory maximums. And if she had been murdered, it wouldn't have been automatic death penalty case, right?" asked the ex-husband. His cousin shook his head and glared at him.

Brass stopped and stared at them. "So that's the reason you didn't kill her then. You didn't want the death penalty. You had her gun and you pointed it at her, but you didn't want to be another cop killer on death row."

"We don't know what you're talking about."

Brass sat down heavily in a chair and put his head in his hands. He sat like that for a moment. When he raised his head, his voice was soft. "You didn't kill her because you thought she was a cop. I suppose I should thank you for that."

"We're not saying anything."

Brass shook his head slowly. "No, and I don't really want you to say anything. It doesn't matter. We have your boots. We have proof that your truck was in the driveway at the time of the attack. We have your ex-wife, and she will sign a statement on this. I guarantee you this. We have her gun, no doubt sporting your prints…Yeah, I think we doing just fine right now without your statement. In fact, I'd prefer to just put down your refusal to cooperate."

The two men looked at one another for a moment. Brass got up and moved to the door. "Better call public defender, boys. You're going to need some representation.."

"Hey! Listen to me."

"Naw. Really. It's okay. I'm happy with how things stand."

"Please, I want to talk."

Brass stopped at the door and waited.

"Will it make a difference if I talk now? Will that make a difference?" Brass didn't need to turn his head to know that he was listening to the cousin. "I was the one who protected her. I was the one that kept him from shooting her."

The ex-husband shook his head and looked away.

"Can we talk?" The cousin was scared and showing it.

"You're the smart one, buster. She's not a cop, but she's still law enforcement. Same penalties apply. You didn't shoot her, buster. Good for you. Instead of shooting her, you almost beat her to death. I looked at those boots, you know. They're going to find that you were the one that drop kicked her in the face. Want to make a statement? Talk to the deputy." Brass walked out, closing the door behind him.