Oh, my reviewers, you fantastic people! Next chapter, just for you, personal thanks at the end.
Painful Journeys
By Goody
"There's nothing here!" Warrick yelled in frustration, knocking the map off the table.
"Take it easy Warrick, there has to be something," Catherine tried to sound in control but couldn't hold back the weary sigh that came when she looked over their findings, which were nothing really.
Warrick picked the map back up and slammed it on the table, just as agitated, "Three gas stations, two hotels, a hiking trail, and desert, desert, desert but nothing resembling any kind of neighbourhood." He shook his head, not able to understand it. "It's not there. Maybe Nick got the address wrong, he had to be under a lot of stress at the time."
"Normally I may say you were right, but we did find Nick's phone on 108, so either way this is where we're restricting our search," Catherine explained, leaning over the map once more though she was doubtful of finding anything new. They had gone over it with a fine tooth comb and found nothing.
Warrick leaned back against the counter and rubbed his eyes knowing they were missing something. When he looked back at the map his eye was drawn to the corner legend: Highway 108 (1999), Department of Transportation. His brow furrowed.
"1999," he mumbled, clearly thinking aloud, drawing Catherine's attention. He lulled his thought over for a moment before he took a cautious step forward, pointing to the map, "What if … what if Nick got the address right, but we're not looking in the right spot. These are department of transportation maps."
He emphasized his last point but Catherine wasn't following, "Yeah, they have all the roads and landmarks for the highway."
"Not necessarily, in 1999 all the highways were renumbered, remember? So they issued new maps but if a road is no longer in use, and the department has no responsibility to look after it, they won't include it on their maps," Warrick said, making his point.
"So, if Crane took them somewhere isolated and old that isn't being looked after anymore, it wouldn't be on here. We have to look back further," Catherine realized. Warrick nodded and turned around to find the appropriate drawer in the cabinet. A few moments later he pulled out a new one and spread it out.
"Okay, this is 1985, let's see if there's anything …"
"Different," Catherine finished, her eye immediately drawn to a huge discrepancy; a road that was not on the map they had been looking at. It appeared to connect to 108 a few miles from where Nick's phone had been found and led far enough into the desert to not easily be seen by helicopter.
The road was called Mirview Drive and ended with a picture of a house and a building with a smokestack. They looked at the legend and saw the house meant a neighbourhood, and the building was a weapons factory.
"Bingo," Warrick whispered.
"Found you," Catherine agreed. They both smiled and turned to go find Grissom when Sara walked in, sheets in hand.
"Hey guys, I need your help. I found a possible location for Crane, he used to live somewhere called Mirview Drive but I can't find it on the database anywhere, do you think you could …"
Sara was cut off when she saw Catherine move out of her way and point to a spot on the map behind her, "Look something like this?"
Sara was confused for a moment but then smiled as she looked at the map and saw what they were talking about, beyond relieved as both Catherine and Warrick were, "Yeah, I'd say that's right."
The three of them rushed into the hallway and towards Grissom's office. He was behind his desk, appearing tired. It had been a long day and he knew it was far from over.
"Grissom," all three called out, immediately catching his attention. He turned quickly, startled and looked at his visitors. What really drew his interest was that they were all smiling and though he wished for the best, he was almost scared to hope that they had good news.
"We found it," Catherine said, making his hesitant hope well founded.
Grissom's eyes widened as he got up and grabbed his coat, "Show me, Warrick, call Brass, tell him where to go."
"On it," Warrick promised and was gone.
"The neighbourhood's abandoned, there's an old road that's probably grown over that leads to it a few miles up the 108 from where we found Nick's cell phone. We had some trouble finding it, it's not on the new maps because the road isn't used so we had to do some back checking," Catherine explained as they walked.
"You're sure though?" Grissom asked as he followed Catherine and Sara.
"Positive," Sara assured him. "Double confirmation, my research and their map checking. Whatever Crane wants with Nick and Greg it must have something to do with his past, the place is where he grew up."
"I suppose it's too much to hope he's just invited them for dinner. Let's go get Nick and Greg back then," Grissom suggested to no objections and though for now they were smiling, they all knew the clock was ticking.
"He's coming back," Greg whispered so softly Nick could barely hear him. The lab tech's eyes were wide with fear and he never took his gaze off the door. "What do we do?"
The desperation in Greg's voice tore at Nick's heart and he hauled at his own restraints once more, not surprised to find the act useless.
"I don't know," he admitted, looking around the room in desperate hope of finding something to use as a weapon, but there was nothing nearby except for a few shards of glass and the shattered cell phone.
Greg's breathing became heavy as the footsteps reached the top of the stairs. He unconsciously moved closer to Nick, despite the older man's inability to protect him in any way other than words. They both watched, unable to look away, as they heard the lock click back, and the door was slowly pushed open.
Crane stood on the other side, gun already drawn, seemingly prepared in case of another attack. He smiled when he saw the two on the floor, pleased they had not tried to escape or hurt him again.
Perhaps they are beginning to understand, he thought gleefully as he entered the room, dragging behind him a wooden chair from a kitchen table with a roll of coarse rope on the seat. Clearly he was back in control of his emotions, he had sorted everything out in his own mind, and from the look on his face it appeared that he had a new plan. Greg and Nick both shuddered.
"Well, I'm glad to see you're starting to behave," Crane commented as he approached the two, smiling as he set up the chair right in front of them and took a seat, leaning forward like an old friend come to have a conversation. "I was a little worried about what happened earlier, but I've thought about it and I know what has to be done."
Nick was not reassured by these words and he could tell Greg was not either. Very slowly, not breaking eye contact with Crane, he asked, "Nigel, what's the rope for?"
Crane looked to the floor where he had discarded the rope to sit down and waved as if to dismiss it, "Oh, in a minute. But first, I have to apologize to you Nick. When I came up here before I was rash, and I can't believe I shot you, I'm so sorry about that. I was just … surprised, I couldn't understand the deception, but I know you couldn't help it with Gregory here clouding your thoughts. Still, it gave me no right to shoot you and I'm so sorry, do you forgive me?"
Nick didn't respond at first. If he said he forgave Crane then he would lose any leverage he may have over the psychopath but if he said he didn't then Crane could easily become violent again, and angry.
"I don't know," Nick said slowly, gauging the darkening look that came over Crane's face. "I'll have to think about it, maybe … maybe you could make it up to me."
Crane smiled and shook his head, "Nice try Nick, but you and Gregory aren't going anywhere. Besides, you're tough, you'll be okay. It looks like Gregory has patched you up anyway, he's a regular little wet nurse."
He's a better friend than you'll ever be, Nick thought in his own mind but knew he could not risk upsetting Crane, so instead he asked again, more demanding but also somewhat scared to know, "Just, tell me what the rope's for Nigel."
Shaking his head, Crane stood up and began to pace, clearly disappointed once more, "You still don't get it Nick, you just don't care about me. I've had an extremely trying day you know, emotionally and physically, and you haven't shown any concern at all. Not a "how are you?" or "are you okay?" nothing. But him," his fiery gaze fixed on Greg, "whenever he whines or moans you jump to him, you care and it's not right. He doesn't deserve that kind of loyalty, he's beneath your friendship."
Nick opened his mouth to defend the younger man and was horrified when Greg answered before him.
"Screw you pal."
Greg's voice was somewhat shaky but also clearly fed up. He was scared of Crane, scared of what he may do, but he was not going to take any more verbal abuse on top of the physical. He was not a dog to be kicked at will and he would stand up for himself.
"You wouldn't know friendship if it bit you in the ass. Do you even know what it means because in no way does it involve violence, kidnapping and murder. Friendship is about giving and taking and supporting each other, which frankly, you suck at, so screw you and your holier-than-thou 'tude."
"Greg, shut up," Nick whispered harshly as he watched the look of anger on Crane's face intensify. Greg did as asked, a fresh wave of fear crashing into him as he realized exactly what he had said but there was also a small feeling of victory which screamed to be recognized and he cherished it.
If possible, Nick's words seemed to infuriate Crane more than Greg's had, "You're doing it again, you only care about him. What about my feelings Nick? What about me, huh? Well, it's time to put an end to that, to make you see that you're wrong. You want to know what the rope's for Nick, well instead of telling how about I just show you?"
Without warning Crane stomped forward and grabbed Greg by his hair. Greg had no chance to fight back as, in one fast motion he was pulled to his feet and then pushed down hard, ensuring he slammed face first into the floor. Greg made no sound as he lay stunned, his pre-existing head injuries causing his vision to darken around the edges as he waited for the pain to fade.
"God Nigel, just stop this please, it's crazy, you've done enough, just leave him alone," Nick begged, pleading not only for Greg's health but for a reprise from having to watch and live through this hell. He was beyond surprised when Crane actually turned to him, fury burning in him like the sun, and he punched Nick hard across the jaw.
"Shut up, I won't listen to you beg for him anymore! Why don't you understand that he's unworthy, that he's nothing!"
Nick hit the wall and then the floor, groaning when the pain in his shoulder awoke and assailed him, something he felt even through the fog in his head the blow had caused.
Meanwhile, Greg felt himself being pushed onto his back and he blinked to try and focus. Crane was leaning over him, rope in hand. He pulled harshly on Greg's bound hands and tied one end of the rope tightly around the metal chain between the handcuffs. This done he moved away and pulled the chair back a foot, looking at the ceiling.
In his head Nick heard Nigel's last words repeat a few times and then he had an idea that he thought he may be able to use to buy time or at least turn Crane's wrath away from Greg.
"Nigel, wait, listen to me. Wait!" At first Crane refused to stop to hear his pleas but he turned when Nick's voice became demanding and strangely calm. Nick swallowed and prayed, then pointed to Greg, "You say that he's worthless, that he's nothing, but you were nothing too Nigel. Remember your father, he was so mean to you, so unfair, he said you were nothing but you weren't, just like Greg's not. You're both people that don't deserve to be treated like this. But if you keep doing this then you're no better than your father was, you'll become your father."
"No! Shut up, I'm nothing like him!" Crane shouted, striking Nick again across the face. When Nick fell to the floor Crane did not show sympathy and began to kick him hard in the chest and stomach. "I'm not my father! How could you say that? How could you think that! You have no idea, about anything! I'm not my father! I'll show you! I'll show you once and for all."
The last was said quietly, Crane having exhausted himself as he turned his attention back to Greg who was trying to roll over. Nigel kicked him without a second thought, battering his broken body further, and eliciting a cry from the young man. Against the wall, Nick couldn't move, Crane hadn't held back on his assault and he couldn't breathe or think clearly but he did watch with detached interest as Crane did as promised and showed him exactly what the rope was for.
Breathing heavily from anger and exertion, Crane took the end of the rope not tied around Greg's hands and stood on the chair so he could easily throw it over the rafter crossing the ceiling.
"Time to get up Gregory."
Once the other end was hanging down he smirked as he took a hold of it and pulled hard, unceremoniously yanking Greg to his feet. As much as he didn't want to Greg screamed as his broken ribs were tugged suddenly but more because his dislocated shoulder was swung around and forced to support half his body weight as the rope was pulled tighter. The torn muscles were pulled mercilessly and the broken bones grinded together, creating a torture without weapons.
Crane laughed when Greg cried out and took his time tying the rope in place so that Greg's feet only barely touched the floor. Greg bit his lip to cut off his screams but his shoulder still felt as though burning needles were being shoved into it and it was hard not to focus on the pain.
"Greg, oh god. Nigel stop this, it won't change anything, and you know it's not right, it's something your father would do," Nick said slowly as he tried to breathe as he moved to sit up.
Crane kicked the chair away he had been standing on and smiled as he inspected his work, enjoying watching Greg's pain as he hung helplessly in front of him. He turned to Nick and smiled, proud of himself.
He took a step to stand in front of Nick and then knelt down to be at his eye level as he pulled the same long knife from earlier from his back pocket and displayed it extravagantly. Crane smiled as he considered Nick's words and shook his head, as if dismissing a child's ramblings, "You're wrong Nick, this will change everything. Death always has a way of changing things."
This said he hefted the knife up reverently and then turned his attention back to Greg.
The noise of the chopper's wings made speech onboard difficult despite the headsets and earpieces provided, and little was said on the flight out into the desert.
Brass looked at the occupants of his helicopter and sighed, wondering how he had let the CSIs convince him they should come. Even if the scene did need to be processed eventually as Grissom had argued, none of them were in any kind of emotional state to do it, but he understood their need to be there when their team mates were found and had let them come.
Along with a handful of SWAT team personnel he and the four CSIs were the only ones onboard with the rest of his team on the second chopper or coming by vehicle. It would be another twenty minutes until they reached the house they thought Crane may be holding Nick and Greg in and he took the opportunity to assess each member of the team.
Catherine was beyond worried and trying not to show it. Her maternal feelings towards the two missing members of their team made this situation particularly hard on her and she tried to stay distracted to keep from thinking about, fiddling with her shoulder strap, or her earphones, even checking her nails, anything to avoid to the difficult emotions that plagued her so she could get through the next few hours. She wanted to be prepared for whatever they may find there, but she was also scared to know.
Beside her Sara's emotional state was harder to read. A lot like Grissom she could become stone when necessary and she currently stared out the open sides of the chopper, as though admiring the desert landscape, but clearly lost in thought. She was known to get caught up in cases and make them personal but this one was personal without her even trying and the emotional toll seemed high. She was strung out but a veteran at hiding it.
Warrick was anxious. He constantly leaned out the side of the helicopter, trying to see how much farther they had to go, eager to get there and rescue their team mates, their friends. He wanted to take action and sitting quietly in a chopper wasn't enough. Nick and Greg were in trouble, in pain, and they were sitting comfortably, trying to get there in time. He shook his head and bit a nail. It wasn't enough.
Grissom was firm in appearance, showing nothing. He sat in the middle, staring straight ahead and able to see only the back of the pilot's head. At a quick glance he looked relaxed, casual, but upon closer inspection his fists were tightly clenched around his investigation kit, his shoulders were rigid, and his jaw was locked in tight anticipation. He was as scared as his team.
The tension in the chopper was thick and Brass knew no empty words of comfort would help any of them, or even himself. He was personally just as worried about the two men as the rest of them. He liked Nick a lot, he worked hard, solved a lot of cases and had a good sense of humor. Brass had worked his job a long time and apart from nearly being a murder suspect, Nick had never been a problem once for administration. That was impressive. On top of being a great worker though, he was a great guy, which made him easy to like. Then there was Sanders. The kid spent a lot of time in his lab with bad music playing but Brass had to admit, though he would not say it aloud, that he respected the lab rat. Greg wanted to make a difference, or so he said, by being out in the field, and Brass believed him. No one took that big a pay cut unless they really had a drive for what they were doing and that would make Greg a great CSI too. Also something he probably wouldn't admit aloud.
They were all worried for both Nick and Greg, but the scariest part was that they all knew what Nigel Crane was capable of, and could picture the worst possible state they may find their friends in. Which was what most of them were doing. It was a wonderful blessing when the chopper finally landed on the outskirts of the small neighbourhood, tearing them from their frightening thoughts. It was only a small group of houses but they were surrounded on two sides by impressive rock formations which had made the hamlet easy to miss on general sweeps.
The four CSI's were almost out of the chopper before Brass could stop them, shouting over the noise of the wings, "Hey, all of you wait! I know you carry guns but you are not police officers! Do not step a foot inside that house until you get the all clear, do you understand?" They all nodded but he didn't feel he really had his point across. "You go in there, you put Nick and Greg's life in greater danger, so stay here, all of you! I'll check in when it's clear."
The four looked defeated and frustrated but stayed where they were as Brass left to lead the first wave into the house.
His SWAT team was prepared and well trained, they knew the situation and the suspect and he felt fully confident going in with them. They circled the only house with any signs of life with the black car in front and prepared to move in. The house was quiet, no noticeable sounds, and so were they. The area was small so containment wouldn't be hard or clearing each room; it was only what they may find that worried Brass. Crane was unpredictable and dangerous; they were moving as fast as possible, knowing Crane always planned his crimes well before he committed them, they hoped the element of surprise would confuse him enough that they could take him out easily.
Lined up at the door the leader looked to him for confirmation to move in. Brass nodded from the back of the line, his own gun drawn and ready. The leader of the SWAT team held up a hand with four fingers up, counted down, and then organized hell bombarded the house. Windows shattered, doors collapsed, and furniture broke as the SWAT team moved in swiftly, guns at the ready for movement or attack. The bottom floor was only a kitchen and living room, both of which were cleared quickly.
"Upstairs, move! Move!" the captain yelled, leading the way. The first bedroom was cleared, the bathroom, and then they reached the closed door with the childish handwritten plaque reading "Nigel's Room". The door was easily kicked down, men shouting and rushing in with weapons drawn, Kevlar vests strapped on and helmet visors down; their precautions were unnecessary.
"We need a medic! We got live ones up here!" A voice yelled, and Brass's heart leapt into his throat as he rushed up the stairs. None of the SWAT team members knew Nick or Greg, he was smart enough to pick men for this job that would be objective, but that also meant that they may not know whether they had victim or suspect alive, and he had to see for himself.
As he reached the doorway he remembered to be professional; this was a recovery scene just like any other. He tried to forget that the victims were his colleagues and struggled to be objective. As he looked in to see the crime scene it was with the eyes of a police officer, calculating, detached and without emotion.
The room was in shambles, showing clear signs of a struggle or even torture of some kind. Broken glass was everywhere, a kicked over chair was in the middle of the room, there was blood spatter on a few walls and the floor and shredded children's pictures hung everywhere.
Through the herd of SWAT members he could make out the essential details and in his mind he catalogued the scene and its victims:
Nick Stokes, CSI level 3 was handcuffed to a radiator, seemingly unconscious. Blood and a crude bandage on his shoulder indicated a bullet or stab wound, with bruising on his face pointing to a beating; unconsciousness may have come about due to blood loss, head trauma, exhaustion or all three. A SWAT team member was kneeling beside him, checking his pulse and working on removing the handcuffs.
Greg Sanders, DNA lab tech and CSI in training was literally hanging in the center of the room. Also unconscious, arms strewn above his head and handcuffed together, he hung limply, blood dripping down his arms, chest and back, heavy bruising apparent throughout the body, clear signs of a severe beating over a long length of time. Two men were working hard to cut him down without further injury.
Both were blissfully alive, Brass could breathe.
The room's third occupant, Nigel Crane was a different story. His head was leaned straight up against the far wall with the rest of his body lying on the floor, his lifeless eyes fixed somewhere on the ceiling. Blood had long since stopped pouring out from the huge cut along his jugular vein that had allowed his life energy to seep out. Stepping closer Brass could see the bloody knife that had taken Crane's life clutched tightly in the stalker's right hand.
He sighed, even more relieved. Nigel Crane was dead, but the pain he inflicted would live on in the two men that had somehow survived.
TBC
Well thank goodness, they're alive, I was worried for a moment. But the angst is not yet complete, you'll see what I mean later. It was so easy to write this chappy after that great episode of CSI, if only Greg had been hurt somehow in that opening scene, but his proposed fear of the ghetto was interesting, I love that he's a CSI now! Woo! Anyway, on to my reviewers, who are great. Great, great reviewers, Merry Christmas, Hanukkah to you all!
Silent bob(ette) – Great handle, first off. Secondly, great review made me laugh but also made me feel absolutely wonderful, so thank you. You may have a future in hypnotism, I just had to update after I got your awesome review.
??? – Uh, thanks for reviewing but I'm doing the best I can for working on two fics at once. I appreciate the offer/bribe of the KA DVD but I will just wait to get mine for Christmas thanks, I really don't know when I'll have an update for Fields of Battle but I'm trying.
Aurora – Yeah, I saw Stalker on Spike the other night too and to be honest, it was my first time seeing it on television. All the info I got that this fic is based on I got from an episode transcript, so now I feel way better writing since I've seen it. Hope this is a better ending for you.
Jackie – Yes, as I said, the site lost a few of my reviews sadly, they were upgrading or something at the time and I got email copies but I deleted them assuming the site would have them and then oddly, it didn't. But thank you for reviewing, and yes, there are two Jackies.
Mellaithwen – where exactly did you review from that you were freezing? Just curious, but thank you for the review, and do try to get to school.
Kenzimone – Yes, sadly your review did get deleted in the site's upgrade, but thank you so much for it, I read it once in email form and then deleted it. Lol, when I read Medieval Torture device I actually considered if it was possible to have Crane come upstairs with like The Rack but then thought, no, not really possible. But I considered it for you, and for the sake of angst. Thanks for the constant reviewing, much appreciated.
Jenben – Oh no, another deleted review. So sorry, but thanks. Yes, Greg is just barely holding on isn't he? Thank you for your lovely comments, I do try to juggle a lot of elements. So glad you're enjoying.
And to Frodolijactress, LXG-Gurl 121, Lostangel2, Elf Fanatic Lark, Brittany, prettyredneck85, Sillie, jade, just me, higherbeingfriendship, Hyperactive forever, SLynn, whiterose01, Blood-Spattered, Feline Feral thank you for your wonderful reviews, you are great people and deserve good things in life for feeding my review addiction and inspiring me with confidence.
Hopefully I can update before I'm off for Christmas break, but if I can't, happy holidays to you all! Goody
