Been awhile huh? Yeah, excuses later, here's some story for you, not my favourite chapter but to make up for my absence it's my longest chapter ever. Enjoy.
Painful Journeys
By Goody
After stopping briefly at the lab to drop the evidence off to the replacement lab tech to be processed, Grissom and Sara headed straight for the hospital. It took almost an hour to drive there from the crime scene and Brass had promised to stop by as soon as possible.
"Catherine?"
She was sitting alone in the waiting room when Grissom and Sara came in, looking tired but still strong.
"Hey guys," she greeted them, standing up. They shared brief hugs then Grissom asked:
"Where's Warrick?"
"He's on the second floor sitting with Nick, he just came out of surgery."
"How is he?" Grissom continued.
"They got the bullet out fine, there's no permanent damage. Once it heals up he'll be back to normal. Pretty much all his other injuries are just cuts and deep bruises, not much they can do," Catherine explained.
"That's good," Sara said, relieved Nick would walk away from Nigel Crane once more physically unscathed. Mentally was a different story. "What about Greg?"
Catherine shrugged, clearly frustratingly angry that she had little to tell them, "They only took him up to surgery about half an hour ago. He flatlined in the chopper." She announced abruptly, letting it sink in just how dire the situation was.
"God. Cath I'm so sorry, it must have been horrible," Sara said emphatically. "Was he …?"
"Not for long, they brought him back pretty quickly. He lost a lot of blood though so they had to do a transfusion before they took him to the OR. They haven't told me anything else except that he was stable when he went in."
Sara rubbed Catherine's arm comfortingly, "He'll be all right, they have good people here."
"Yeah, I hope so. Did you guys find anything at the scene?"
"Murder weapon, blood, the usual. A few things we can't explain yet but Nick and Greg will probably be able to tell us what we can't piece together," Grissom supposed.
"The doctors said Nick should be awake and coherent in a few hours, we can find out then," Catherine pointed out.
"We'll need their statements no matter what, with Crane dead it doesn't really matter when they give them," Grissom said, not planning on pelting Nick with questions about the most traumatic event of his life as soon as he woke up.
Catherine looked like she was about to say something but was interrupted by the loudspeaker system.
"Doctor Matheson, OR 2, code blue. Doctor Matheson, OR 2, code blue."
The look of fear on Catherine's face told it all.
"Is that where Greg is?" Sara asked. Catherine nodded, biting her lip and sitting down, knowing they would tell them nothing even if they were to run to the Operating Room doors. They could only wait and it sucked.
"We'll just have to hope for the best," Grissom commented, then shuffled uncomfortably. "I'm going to go check on Warrick, let him know we're here."
Sara and Catherine nodded and watched him leave silently then they settled into their seats. It would be a long night of waiting for all of them.
A floor below them Nick and Warrick sat in similar silence. As the hours passed Warrick sat fidgeting in the bedside chair, trying hard to find some reason for this violent attack on his friends, and justification for the repercussions that were to come. Grissom visited briefly and they talked, but then he left again to sit with the girls upstairs. Warrick stayed where he was, he had promised Nick and wouldn't let him wake up alone after the traumatic events of the past day. And through it all, Nick slept. It was a sleep of recovery, in body at least, for in his mind he dreamed unsettling nightmares. Unlike Greg, his dreams were not fabrications of the truth distorted by his imagination or fear, but detailed recollections of what had actually happened. Of the terror that they had lived through.
In Nick's mind he saw Nigel Crane, so twisted with delusions that he would switch from violent to overjoyed at the drop of a dime. He saw Crane's horrible black car, the rundown house of his childhood, so full of pain even before they had gotten there. Next were flashes of the torture they had endured, shattered mirrors, handcuffs, Crane's knife, his gun and then finally, in stark detail and high quality images, as if it were the main attraction, Nick saw Crane die. He saw himself kill him and then he awoke with a start.
"Crane? Where?"
It actually took Warrick a moment to react. He had been sitting so long in silence waiting for some kind of sign of life from Nick, that when the Texan awoke suddenly, gasping and wide eyed, he wasn't sure what was happening. It didn't take him long to figure it out and then he moved, buzzing a nurse and standing close to the bed.
"Nick, it's all right, it's all right, you're safe," Warrick assured him, seeing the wild look in his eyes diminish as he took in where he was. "Crane's dead, you're in the hospital." Nick locked eyes with Warrick and nodded, relaxing as his breathing evened out. He laid his head back down, closing his eyes as he remembered everything that had happened.
"Warrick. Right, I remember." A few more deep breaths. "How long have I been out?" he asked, his voice dry.
"A couple of hours. Here," Warrick said, as he handed him a glass of water. Nick realized he was very thirsty and drank greedily.
"Thanks," He handed the glass back and then asked immediately, "How's Greg? Can I see him?"
"He's still in surgery last I heard, he was stable when they took him in. We won't know anything for sure until he's out," Warrick replied.
Nick closed his eyes, "Okay, that's good I guess." A pause.
"Hey, I know this isn't gonna count for much but I'm sorry for what happened to you guys. We're all gonna be here for you if you need anything, no matter how big or small. Don't hesitate to ask," Warrick said, his voice resonating with the epitome of support.
Nick smiled briefly, "Thanks man, I'll be all right, I've dealt with Crane before, I survived. I'm just worried about Greg, he never should have been there," he replied, his voice becoming a dark whisper at the end, overflowing with guilt.
Warrick laid a hand on his good shoulder, "None of this was your fault, Nick, none of it. It was all Crane."
"Yeah, I'll keep telling myself that, maybe I can believe it," he said, then tried to push himself into a sitting position and jarred his injured shoulder. "Oh god," he exclaimed, almost having forgotten he was hurt.
"Yeah, that's gonna be tender for awhile, I don't think you should move until a doctor sees you anyway," Warrick said wisely, not wanting Nick to pull out an IV or rip his stitches.
"That's excellent advice Mr. Brown."
Nick jumped at the voice, his nerves shaky, but made himself calm down when he saw a doctor in the doorway, chart and pen in hand. Warrick had talked to him several times over the last few hours and liked him, he seemed to care a lot about his patients.
"I'm Dr. Connell, the attending. How are you feeling Mr. Stokes?" he asked, quickly checking Nick's pupils and writing on his chart.
"Call me Nick. I'm all right considering." Nick replied, his eyes haunted briefly with memories.
"That's wonderful. Now, your arm should heal up nicely, we found nothing too serious once we got the bullet out. It'll take a few weeks to heal and some physio but after that you should have full mobility again. Other than that you're basically fine except for a mild concussion and the lacerations on your wrists, they were rather deep. The police told me you were attacked, do you want to talk about it?" the doctor was only doing his job, often patients had the most detailed memories of their attacks and were most willing to talk upon waking, but Nick was not one of these patients.
"No," he replied flatly, almost angry just by the memories of it. "My attacker's dead, there's not much to talk about."
Dr. Connell took this in stride, not pushing, "That's fine." He moved to the end of the bed and lifted the sheet off Nick's feet. "Can you wiggle your toes for me?"
"Doc, I was shot in the arm, not the spine," Nick complained.
"Humor me."
Nick did as asked and wiggled all his toes, then certain ones and repeated the process for his fingers on his injured arm. Assured there was no nerve damage the doctor seemed pleased and ready to leave.
"Wait, a friend of mine's here too, when can I see him?" Nick asked as Dr. Connell was leaving.
The doctor looked at Warrick briefly, already knowing who Nick was talking about, "Mr. Sanders is still in surgery, if things go well you should be fit enough to see him by the time he's taking visitors."
"And if things don't go well?" Nick asked, very scared by how uncertain the doctor seemed about Greg's fate.
"I don't have all the facts on Mr. Sanders but from what I hear his injuries are severe, we're doing our best." And then he was gone.
Nick laid back down, not comforted in the least and once again very tired. Warrick sat down beside him, trying not to be intrusive, only supportive.
"He'll be all right Nick, he's a fighter, he'll pull through," he said, placing a comforting hand on Nick's unbandaged shoulder.
Nick shook his head, eyes clenched tight in anger, "He went through so much Warrick. Crane was sadistic, unreasonable. I couldn't blame him for giving up now but somehow I think I'd hate him if he did."
"Hey, you both went through hell, but if you're going through hell, keep going. You kept going, you're out of it now, things'll turn out in the end," Warrick promised, knowing all of them, Grissom, Sara, Catherine and himself would fight and push as much as it took to make sure things were all right for both Nick and Greg.
"Yeah, maybe." Clearly Nick was in pain. Not physically, but mental torture could be just as bad, but it was clear from the haunted, hard-set look in his eyes that he was not handling the situation with as much ease as he led his friend to believe.
Warrick tapped his fingers on the bedside table, fighting his internal monologue, but eventually decided to ask the question that had been burning inside him for hours.
"Nick, listen, I don't know what you remember and I didn't tell anyone yet, but you told me on the ambulance that you killed Crane, it wasn't a suicide. Do you remember that?" Warrick asked, his way of gently asking Nick to elaborate, to explain or deny what he had said earlier.
Nick nodded, eyes still closed, appearing exhausted, "Yeah, I remember." A long pause. "Is Brass here?"
The question came from nowhere and Warrick was flustered for a moment, "Uh, no, not yet. He said he'd probably be another hour or so."
"How about you sit in when he gets here and I make my statement? I'm really not up to telling it twice," Nick explained, clearly sorry he was holding back, but also unwilling to talk about it more than he had to.
Warrick understood, "Yeah, that's fine, no problem. You get some rest, I'm going to go see the others, tell them how you're doing. Maybe I can get an update on Greg."
"Okay, wake me if you find out anything."
"No problem." Warrick stood to leave and heard Nick sigh heavily. He wondered if the injured man would indeed sleep or lay alone in silence worrying and arguing with his conscience. Though he hoped for the former, he somehow knew it would bethe latter.
"Hey guys, any news on Greg?" Warrick asked as soon as he entered the waiting room the other CSIs were occupying.
"No, they haven't told us anything else, but a lot of doctors have been going in and out," Sara replied then looked away, back into the dark of her swirling, cooling coffee.
"What about Nicky?" Catherine asked, knowing Warrick was probably there for a reason.
"Yeah, he woke up. Doctor checked him out again, said he'll be all right. He's sleeping now, he's pretty exhausted. I told him I'd check on Greg for him," Warrick explained.
"How was he when he was awake?" Grissom asked.
Warrick thought about it a second and replied, "He was all right. Coherent, remembered everything. Mostly worried about Greg and working hard to deny that any of this has affected him but you can see it, he's jumpy, nervous. He's not opening up yet but he said he's ready to make his statement whenever Brass gets here, get it out of the way."
"That's soon," Grissom noted. "Maybe he can answer a few of our questions about what we found."
"What exactly did you find?"
"Anomalies. Crane may not have killed himself," Sara replied but was clearly still sceptical of the idea.
"But, Nick and Greg were both tied up weren't they?" Warrick continued questioning.
"Thus the anomalies," Grissom said, as matter of factly and even as always. "The evidence doesn't lie and it's telling us Crane didn't kill himself."
Warrick ran a hand over his face, even more exhausted, "Oh man, this day just keeps getting better and better."
"Great, I need to hear some good news," Brass announced, startling the CSIs. He had only just arrived and all he had heard were Warrick's last few words.
"Hey Jim," Grissom greeted him.
"Thanks for coming," Catherine said as he stood by her, waiting.
"No problem, so someone fill me in. How are they?" he asked, able to keep his voice relatively calm. He didn't see any tears in anyone's eyes so he guessed the news wouldn't be life shattering but the room was thick with tension, meaning the news wouldn't be uplifting either.
"Greg's been in surgery since he got here, all we know is he was stable when he went in. Nick's out already, they said he'll be fine, they got the bullet out of his arm. He's just resting now," Catherine explained.
"That's great. What about the scene? Did you process it all?"
Grissom nodded and filled Brass in on what they had found, what could be explained and what couldn't. Brass listened intently but had no explanation for their strange findings and somehow they all knew they wouldn't get answers until Nick or Greg was able to give them.
"Nick actually wanted to see you when you got here, he seemed pretty eager to make his statement," Warrick added.
"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me," Brass said. Trauma victims usually wanted to talk immediately or never at all. It made sense Nick wanted to talk soon, especially since he knew it would have to be done eventually. Best to get it over with quickly. "So we have no idea how long until Sanders is out?"
Everyone shook their heads dismally; there was seemingly not an ion of positive energy in the entire room. Even the air felt heavy, the fluorescent light somehow dark. It wasn't pleasant. The concern and worry of the CSIs was palpable and Brass was eager to leave and try to distance himself in an attempt to avoid the plunge into brooding they all seemed to have taken.
"I'm going back down with Nick if you want to come," Warrick offered as he started for the door. Brass nodded.
"Yeah, I'll be right there. I gotta get some stuff if he's going to make his statement now."
He and Warrick began down the hallway in silence. Once they were a decent distance from the waiting room Warrick spoke.
"Look, I didn't want to bring it up again in there but … Greg flatlined twice on the chopper ride over, to me that means things are probably bad."
"Jesus," Brass swore on instinct. He had hoped the situation was less critical than that. The crazy lab rat had looked bad back at the crime scene but he had hoped it was all superficial. But hope didn't always pan out.
"Yeah, but the doctors are working hard it seems. I can't see how it could be much longer, it's been hours," Warrick pointed out as they got in the elevator.
"Well, as long as he's in there, he's alive. As they say, 'no news is good news,'" Brass said.
"We could sure use some good news right about now," Warrick replied.
Brass had nothing to offer.
Nick was awake when they got there, confirming Warrick's suspicion that he wouldn't sleep.
"Hey Jim," he said in greeting upon seeing Brass.
"Hey Nick, glad you're going to be all right, you gave us a scare," Brass replied clearly somewhat uncomfortable and not accustomed to being a pillar of support. He was accustomed to dishing out attitude and aggression to suspects, his was a rough exterior which he found hard to break.
"Yeah, didn't mean to," Nick said, then turned to Warrick. Before he even said anything Warrick shook his head.
"Sorry man, no news on Greg yet."
Nick sighed deeply and laid his head back, frustrated, "Damn."
"Look Warrick said you wanted to make your statement but there's really no rush, I just came to see how you were, you should get some rest. I pulled some strings, got you the day off work," Brass joked lightly, actually bringing a small semblance of laughter from Nick's lips.
"No, I'm not tired, I just want to get it off my chest, avoid all the questions that are going to pop up later," Nick replied, sitting up and obviously getting ready for the question period.
And oh the questions Brass had, but he had to do this right and start from the beginning. As he was setting up the tape recorder, not bothering to take hand written notes, Nick was curious.
"Hey, if I cover everything with a good amount of detail is there any way Greg won't have to do this?" Nick asked, trying to sound casual but knowing his real reasons for making a fast statement were coming out.
Brass thought about it a moment, "Well, we're going to have to talk to him no matter what, but if you give us enough we can just get him to verify your story. It'll be brief."
Nick nodded, accepting that, knowing it was the best answer he was going to get. Brass recorded the date, time, and interview subject and laid down the recorder.
"Okay, let's start at the beginning."
And so Nick did. He started from that morning and continued straight through, making little eye contact, concealing the emotion in his voice, barrelling through the tough memories quickly, not dwelling on the pain or fear, just the facts – just what they needed to know, no frills, just the facts.
"We were leaving Greg's, on the way to a football game …"
"He was waiting in the parking lot for us…"
"I came around and Greg was on the ground …"
"… had a gun …"
"… something different about him …"
"Wanted to take a trip …"
"He made me drive out into the desert …"
"Greg eventually woke up in the trunk and started yelling …"
"He hit Greg, put him back in the trunk. I tackled him but …"
"… left it behind for Grissom …"
"We took a side road and got to this little town, Crane said he grew up there …"
"He handcuffed me to the radiator and went back for Greg …"
"…wanted me to understand …"
"Crane started ranting …"
"He hit him over and over…"
"… I couldn't do anything …"
"He went to the closet and came back with a baseball bat … kept hitting him and yelling about his childhood …"
"… threw him through the mirror, glass was everywhere …"
"I had to do something to stop him …"
"… wanted me to understand …"
"Greg's phone went off …"
"He shot me …"
"Greg got up somehow and hit him …"
"…wanted me to understand …"
"He came back with the rope …"
"Tied Greg up …"
"I tried to stop him."
"Told him he would be like his father …"
"He said 'death always has a way of changing things'…"
"Hey, maybe we should take a break," Warrick suggested suddenly, surprising both Nick and Brass. Nick's monologue had been going for some time, Brass asked few questions, and they had both been entirely focussed on the telling and listening of it. But Warrick saw how exhausted Nick was and what a toll this was having on him. His shoulders were slowly slumping even more and his eyes were becoming more distant, haunted.
"Yeah, that might be a good idea," Brass agreed standing up, emotionally drained from just listening, it was hard to imagine how Nick could even bear to tell it, let alone have just lived the horrible tale.
But Nick shook his head, determined to finish now that he'd started, "No, there's not much left, just … let me finish."
Brass sighed and nodded, sitting back down, "Okay, we'll keep going."
Warrick took a deep breath, unsure how much more of the horror story he could take, but he would stay. He had promised Nick and he was forced to admit, sheer curiosity kept him from protesting the continuance; he needed to know what had happened to his friends, how Crane had been killed.
Nick focussed on the spot on the wall he had been watching and continued as if they hadn't stopped, "Crane turned back to Greg …"
Crane wanted me to see how much better he was than Greg.
"Well Gregory, I think it's about time Nick sees the real you, don't you?" Crane sing-songed as he stepped in front of the lab tech, making sure to hold the knife in Greg's direct line of vision.
Greg saw the knife and knew something was going to happen but he was having trouble concentrating on anything besides the pain radiating down his entire left side. His dislocated shoulder was holding up half his weight from the rope he was hanging from and the pulling of the torn tendons and muscles was enough to make him want to scream until he blacked out. But he stayed conscious, determined to stay awake and not leave Nick alone with this madman, but he was also scared to sleep. Sleep meant he would lose awareness of what was happening to him and when he woke up … well, he knew chances were he wouldn't wake up.
For this reason he found the will to lift his head and watch as Crane stepped towards him and quickly cut away what was left of his tattered t-shirt.
"Nigel, stop. What are you doing?" Nick demanded from across the room, but Crane did not answer. He just smiled a little and continued with his task. When the shirt was gone Crane came around to Greg's back and his eyes widened with a mix of wonder and almost approval.
Crane liked Greg's scars, wanted to know what caused them.
"My my Gregory, these are lovely. How did you get them?"
Greg was confused for a moment, unsure what Crane meant, but then felt the cold knife run slowly down his back, over the scarred flesh on his upper back and neck. His burns, Crane admired his burns.
Though he was having some trouble breathing Greg choked out an answer, "An explosion … in the lab."
"Sabotage?" Crane asked.
Greg shook his head, "Accident." He affirmed.
"Even better. I think I'll just leave these as they are, they're almost perfect," their kidnapper commented as he pulled the knife away and walked slowly to stand in front of Greg once more, between him and Nick.
As this went on Nick stood, helpless, as helpless as he had been through this entire ordeal and he felt it to his core. He watched, hoping things would not escalate but knowing they would.
He was right.
Crane took a moment to study his knife and his victim and then casually took a lighter out of his pocket, flicking it on and placing it underneath the metal weapon, heating it up.
He wanted to show me that he was a more deserving friend than Greg.
As the knife grew hotter, Crane explained himself, freakishly calm and reasonable, "Time for business. Now Nick, now you're going to finally see what I mean. Once and for all you'll see this worthless annoyance for what he really is; weak, unworthy, a leech that has latched on to your life to live in replace of his own miserable existence."
Then Greg kind of made him mad.
"Not like anyone else in this room, huh?" Greg remarked bitingly, instinct making him fight back. He saw undiluted anger flash in Crane's eyes and regretted talking despite how good the comment felt.
"You will not turn this inquisition back on me, it's you who is lacking here," Crane hissed, taking a step closer to Greg but also continuing to run the knife over the flame.
I tried to get him off Greg's case.
"He's right Nigel, you admitted it yourself. You 'get confused about what's yours and what's mine'. Even if Greg were guilty of that so were you," Nick pointed out, wanting Crane to turn, to be mad at him, but the killer would not be swayed. His eyes never strayed from Greg, even as he replied.
"That's different. I acted out of admiration and respect, I appreciate so much everything that you do Nick, everything that you are. His actions are motivated by jealousy and envy, it is an insincere form of flattery." Again, Crane sounded calm, scaring Nick. It seemed less and less likely he would be deterred from his actions, whatever they were.
Crane couldn't be reasoned with, he was determined.
Nick tried to form a response but Crane kept talking. His words came out slowly and thoughtfully, with only Greg able to see the insanity in his eyes, "I did some research while I was locked up, you know, learned some more about what you do. One thing I found particularly interesting was that if a wound is inflicted with a metal weapon that's hot enough, it'll cauterize itself. I found that so interesting, I've wanted to try it ever since."
He started to cut Greg.
Without warning Crane tore the knife blade across Greg's abdomen, cutting a long gash from his ribcage to his naval. Greg cried out in surprise and tried to pull away but there was no where to go. He choked on air for a moment and tried to breathe but mostly he concentrated on holding back any tears of pain; he would not cry for this madman, not anymore.
Nick tried to pull forward; it was futile but there was nothing else he could do.
"Nigel!" he yelled. Crane stepped out of the way, frowning. Nick saw the cut was long, but not deep, with a thin line of blood dripping down.
"Hmm, guess it wasn't hot enough," Crane mumbled as he started heating up the knife again.
I couldn't stop him. Everything was so clear to him. The insanity all must have made sense in his head.
"What does this prove?" Nick demanded, his anger briefly boiling over his fear.
"That I'm stronger, I'm the more deserving. You must really see it Nick, I don't know how you haven't already," Crane replied, his voice was still calm, reasonable in its twisted logic.
I couldn't do anything, couldn't stop him. I almost gave up.
Nick didn't know what else to do, to say. He had tried everything. He closed his eyes, exhausted, so impossibly tired he could barely stand and when he heard another sickening slice, followed by Greg's cry of pain, he could no longer find it in him to even react. Instead he actually collapsed; his soul feeling like it was crumbling as hope finally waned. He sat helplessly on the floor and put his head in his hands. He couldn't watch anymore, it would drive him insane, and he knew he couldn't stop Crane. He was unreasonable, illogical; to him all of this made perfect sense. There was nothing he could say to make Crane understand that this was wrong.
Nothing.
But it was Crane who wanted him to understand, wasn't it?
"I think I'll just assume it works, this is taking too long. Besides, I'd hate to see the blood stop flowing, wouldn't you Nick?" he heard Crane comment. He made no move to reply.
Crane just kept hurting him.
"Stop, please," Greg pleaded, panting through gritted teeth, biting down so hard on his own jaw he could barely speak. Crane seemed urged on by the request and sliced him quickly again, right beneath the ribcage, the deepest cut yet.
"Ah, god!" Greg yelled, shaking with pain and exhaustion. "Jesus, stop. You don't have to do this, please, there's no point, he's not going to understand whatever the hell you're trying to teach him. Ah! …God stop, don't do this …"
I could only think of one thing to do.
"Oh my God, can you ever shut the hell up for two minutes!" The outburst was sudden and both Greg and Crane turned wide eyes to stare at the speaker.
I had to hurt him too.
When Nick saw he had their full attention he continued, standing, tense with anger, "All you ever do is whine and run your mouth 24/7, you never shut up for a god damn minute, I can't even hear myself think for Christ's sake! God, you're just always following me and rambling on and on about your crappy music and your stupid pop stars like you think I care or something. And if not that you're always running around so proud of your damn lab results that a monkey could process, and then there's your whole pathetic little quest as a CSI wannabe which got old and annoying really fast. Why do you even bother if all you're going to do is screw up anyway? So why don't you just do everyone a favour and shut it for once!" he sounded honestly fed up, annoyed, and best of all to Crane, mad.
Greg's jaw hung open, sucking in a breath as his heart felt like it was sucked into a vacuum. The emotional pain of the words quickly overtook the physical torture he had suffered and for the first time since this began, he felt alone. He had endured it all, every physical blow, because Nick had been behind him, supporting him. He had taken the pain because he believed it had protected Nick, because he was standing by his friend like Nick was for him. Every cut and bruise and blow he had taken without tears, strong in the soul. But now Nick wielded his own knife and it cut deeper than Crane's; his barriers fell and his eyes watered.
"Nick … what?" he couldn't even form a complete sentence.
I … I hurt him a lot.
But Nick showed no sympathy, only further disgust and incredulousness, "Come on, you're a freakshow, Nigel here has made some good points, really got me thinking. You really aren't worthy of my friendship at all, especially not now, if ever. I mean look at you, bleeding everywhere, defenceless and … are those tears in your eyes? Now come on, I can't be seen with someone like you," Nick scoffed at the idea and a look passed between him and Crane.
I gave Crane what he wanted.
Nigel seemed to study his captive for a long time, measuring the emotion in his eyes, the sincerity of his expression and tone in his voice. It all seemed right. He almost didn't dare to hope, but it seemed true; he had gotten through to Nick. Looking behind him, he indeed saw tears on Gregory's cheeks, which he tried to hide by lowering his head.
Greg closed his eyes as he looked down, unable to see anymore. He didn't want to process what Nick had said and in a desperate attempt to block out the emotional pain he actually pulled on his own injured shoulder, relishing in the distraction of physical agony.
I made him think I understood.
"Nick, you understand, at last. I told you," Crane said, smiling. "I told you he was unworthy, he was a shell of the friend I could be to you."
"You did, you tried so hard to warn me, you're a good friend Nigel. Just wish I had listened sooner. I see now, he's been a horrible waste of my time," Nick continued, laughing derogatorily as he saw Greg shudder at his words. "I needed a reality check as much as he does."
"I did all I could Nick," Crane said with fake modesty, yearning for more praise from his new friend.
I made him think I was his friend.
"You did. You tried so hard to show me he wasn't worth my time and made me see how much better I deserve. You did so much and … God, I made you go through all this hell. I put you through so much and … you were right all along," Nick's angry, arrogant attitude faded as he went, to be slowly replaced by honest regret and sadness. "I'm so sorry Nigel about everything I made you go through. God, you went to prison for me, you killed for me, and all I did in return was hurt you, betray you. I'm so sorry. Jesus, how could you forgive me? How? I'm just, so sorry. I'm so sorry Nigel. I'm sorry, I'm sorry …"
Crane watched as Nick seemed to collapse in on himself, overcome with guilt for his actions as he slid down the wall and brought his knees to his chest as he sat down, rocking slightly.
Greg worked hard not to listen, he heard words but focussed on not understanding them when put together. The physical pain was strong and easy to focus on because there was so much and he decided he would rather feel that than listen to Nick and Crane degrade him even more and crush what was left of his will.
As he watched Nick crumble with guilt, Nigel moved closer to him, exuding an air of immediate forgiveness while inside he was filled with extreme satisfaction. Nick's head was down as he rocked and Nigel knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
I got him to trust me.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry …" Nick mumbled quietly, eyes closed as he leaned over himself.
"Nick, it's all right, I understand it can take awhile to see what later seems so clear. It's okay, we're both okay, we have each other now," Crane said comfortingly.
And then I betrayed him.
But still Nick didn't look up. He kept mumbling, even quieter now and Crane leaned forward to hear him better. He never saw Nick move, he never saw the brief glint of sun off the glass in his hand, he never heard the wind whistle as it travelled, or the flesh tear as the shard imbedded deep in his jugular. He didn't feel the blood rushing out of his body and down his neck. He didn't even feel the pain of the stab. He felt only betrayal as he saw the truth in his friend's eyes.
I guess you could say I stabbed him in the back, but technically it was the neck.
"I'm sorry," Nick repeated one last time, softly and sincere.
Crane did not forgive him. He stumbled back, hand flying to his throat but his gaze never left Nick's. He'd been betrayed, fooled. He was dying and it would be alone at the hand of someone he considered a friend, his only friend. In his last few moments as he quickly bled out, he did not think of redemption or heaven or hell. His thoughts dwelled on what most who die suddenly consider most: revenge.
He looked so betrayed. I think he wanted to hurt me back at that point.
Nick threw the bloody shard away, noting that it slid under the radiator, then watched Crane back away and manage to stand, wobbly with surprise. Their eyes stayed locked and he saw the shock in Crane's expression and the hurt of betrayal. But that look faded as quickly as the blood gushing from his open neck. His eyes furrowed and there was anger, malice that he felt to his core at such a betrayal and it was clear that with his last actions Crane would make Nick pay.
And he immediately thought of the greatest way to hurt the Texan.
And he did.
He swung around quickly and with all his strength and body weight he fell into the body hanging behind him, pushing his knife as deeply as it would go into Greg's unprotected abdomen.
There was nothing I could do.
"No, don't!" Nick cried out too late. The words came more from denial than any real hope of stopping Crane as the damage had already been done.
Crane won.
Greg had not seen the attack coming. He had been so focussed on his own internal monologue he hadn't even seen Nick stab Crane first. The pain hit immediately though and his head shot up, but soon the agony was so over powering he felt nothing at all, just a strange numbing through his body. He tried to breathe and found his lungs would not comply. Still not quite sure what had happened, he looked down just as Crane fell back and saw the entire length of the knife slide slowly out of his torso, leaving a gaping wound behind. He focussed for long seconds on the blood that ran down his stomach, oblivious to all else around him. There was so much, he wondered what was left inside. The blood gushed and he knew he was dying, the numbness was a sign, and he wondered where the flash of his life was, the bright light in the tunnel or maybe even that last burst of superhuman strength that some experience. He pulled on the ropes holding him but they didn't budge; no superhuman strength. As his mind began to wander his body relaxed and he was able to take a long, comforting breath of air into his starved lungs. Almost immediately afterwards his eyes started to droop and just before blissful unconsciousness overtook him, he looked up, and though he saw Nigel Crane's lifeless body and Nick desperately trying to get to him somehow, he heard nothing and could not piece together what it all meant. Somehow he was content not to know what had just happened, he embraced the comfort of knowing that at least it was all over. Then he slipped quietly into the darkness and dreamt about pain.
I couldn't react for a minute, I think I was in shock.
Nick sat numbly at first. It had all happened so fast he could barely process it. It had been hard to take a life, but he knew not nearly so hard as to watch Crane slowly torture Greg to death. But it had gone so wrong, Crane had been so furious about his betrayal that he had taken revenge. Nick's stunned gaze slowly turned to the far wall when he heard a thump and saw Nigel Crane had fallen in what would be his final resting place. Blood seeped through his fingers as he clutched his throat and his wide eyes locked with Nick's, still full of anger they sent a clear message to the CSI: now we're even. Crane smiled in his final triumph, then his head tilted back and the blood stopped running through his fingers.
Nick began to hyperventilate as what had just happened sunk in. His breath came in with quick, short gasps and he whirled to look at Greg. The younger man was still conscious, barely, his blurry gaze fixed in shock on the hole in his side.
Greg was … barely awake. Hurt, bad.
"Greg, oh my God, Greg can you hear me? Oh shit, oh hell, this can't be happening, Greg! Greg talk to me, look at me! Just stay with me buddy," Nick demanded, pulling and tearing at the cuffs, fiercer than ever. Crane was dead, he didn't care now that he'd killed him, but that left him with no way to gain his freedom. Nick watched as Greg managed to lift his head, having yet to make a sound, and stared at the body of Nigel Crane.
I don't think he could hear me.
"Greg, no, look at me. Over here Greggo, talk to me, please! How bad is it?" Stupid question, he knew. There was blood, and no doctors, and no one coming which equalled no chance. But Nick had to hope, "Just hold on G, we'll get out of here, somehow, I promise."
Greg's gaze flicked to Nick, and the Texan had hope that he would talk to him, but there was no lucidness in Greg's eyes. He was barely awake, practically incoherent.
"Greg, just stay awake, stay here with me, you'll be fine, I swear buddy. Goddammit!" Nick pulled at the cuffs, they didn't budge. "Just keep looking at me, stay awake. Greg? No! Greg, don't! Don't close your eyes! Greg!"
He passed out.
It was too late, Greg was unconscious, head resting on his good shoulder as he hung, helpless, bleeding.
"Greg? Greg wake up!" Nick yelled, but got no response. He began gasping harder, panic taking hold as grief and guilt attacked his mind. "Greg … I … I'm …"
He gasped and felt the first tears slide down his cheeks as he realized he had not told Greg he was sorry. Had not apologized for his actions that had led Crane to stab him, or for the hurtful words he had used earlier. He had not asked for redemption for anything, and now, for it seemed there was no hope, he would never find Greg's forgiveness.
I … I couldn't do anything. I couldn't explain to him … I couldn't … take it back, nothing. I couldn't help him. All I did was hurt him.
"I'm sorry, Greg. I'm so sorry," Nick said from his heart. His breathing did not calm in any way as he panicked and grieved more with every second. Greg would die and it was his fault. He had killed a man, to save his friend, and now he was going to die anyway. It was a cruel twist of events and Nick didn't think he could handle it. Sitting on the floor, resigned, tears fell as he prayed, asked for forgiveness and took comfort only in the rise and fall of Greg's chest. He couldn't tell when, but eventually the emotional and physical toll overtook him, and he unknowingly fell into unconsciousness. When he blacked out he knew Greg was still alive, but he was no closer to forgiveness …
TBC
Whew! Finally got that flashback done, wasn't my favourite chapter but at least it's finally done. There will probably only be one or two more chapters, depending how much guilt, redemption and recovery I can fit in one chapter. If not enough, then a second will follow. I know, it's been forever since I updated. To be honest, I've been on break and the muse just hasn't been visiting (it doesn't help that I missed Big Middle last week! Ah! I hear Greg was in it Big time. Oh, bad pun Diana, very bad pun.)
Anyway, that's the only reason I got, but lucky for me I have a LOT more amazing reviewers than I have reasons for slow updates. And here are the thanks that these great people deserve.
WingLiger496 and GenoSaw623 – First off, that name is a mouthful, but nice and original. Second of all, homework's important, you should do it, and third, thank you for the review. Hope you liked the explanation.
Shacky20 – the angst and guilt should be good, I already have a few scenes scribbled out on scrap paper that should be adorable and angst filled. As for the bribery, I think I'll take one of those cookies, thank you very much.
Ice Queen1 – Hey, there's a movie coming out called that. Cool. Anyway, so happy you like my characterizations, all reviews are cherished but even more so by those who do not review lightly, so thank you. I'm glad you found mine too, and I would email you but unfortunately the last part of email addresses don't show up in reviews (this has happened with other reviewers) so I hope you check for updates on your own and get a chance to read this.
Loozy – not a totally off the wall idea, I can see it working if I took the story in that direction. Good guess anyway, thank you for reading.
Wendy – lol, I kind of like your explanation more than mine.
Curious Forgotten Lore – I was considering doing something like that to be honest, make Nigel so depressed from Nick's words that he killed himself, but in the end I went for the betrayal and the angst of Nick stabbing him, and then Crane stabbing Greg. Mostly because I just love angst.
Honey dipped rose – lol, you really must be tired. I thought the type in the first review was a bit odd, but then in your second one when you apologized for the typos you made a few more. I hope you did it on purpose because it made me smile. Hope you get some rest. And sorry, I don't know where you could get the episodes unless you downloaded them.
Emmithar – Wow, pretty much spot on with the hypothesis on Crane's death. I applaud you. I also like the dream sequence, I was worried it was too long, but I'm glad the confusion was enjoyable.
Wolfwood11 – Trust me, you never have to apologize to an author for long reviews. Never! Longer the better, so no worries. Thank you for all the kind words on my characterization, I try very hard, but I have also written animated characters so I actually know what you mean on that one. Batman is so much easier to write than Greg. J Wow, I never even thought of making the shard the one that Greg pulled out of his side, that'd be strangely ironic and twisted, and I would have done it but I think if Greg had a piece in him that big it would have done a lot of damage that I haven't accounted for, so I didn't. But I appreciate that you have obviously been reading all the little details, thanks so much.
Em – uh, no. But you made me laugh very hard, so thank you.
Mellaithwen – Great, you were the only one to put your idea into actual story format, so many thanks for the extra work and you were pretty close, you fit the dream dialogue in which was a main aspect of it. Thanks so much for that extra effort and not thinking my chapter was boring.
Story-spindler – Yes, I got some medical stuff right. It probably won't happen again, but thank you for letting me know.
Rossy07 – Lots of Nick angst, but pretty much all mental and guilt trips except for the occasional pull on the bullet wound shoulder.
Kenzimone – lol, look at you being all creative and sticking my name into the dialogue of my own story, I love it! Sorry Nick never actually slapped him, but I think his words had a strong enough effect, he was pretty harsh on our Greggo, and never apologized.
And thanks to Blood-Spattered, Aurora, higherbeingfriendsfan, deathchamberX17, Alex, LXG-Gurl121, Sillie, Stacey, Legolasgirl666, Fwe, Marakida, Xombe, Lady-Of-The-Rings (I'm not big on sequels, sorry), snowbunny3, felineferal, and St. Nick for your awesome reviews, I appreciated them muchly.
Don't know when the next update will be, but I'll do my best to make it quick. Hope the waiting hasn't killed off anyone's interest, so sorry it took so long. Thanks for reading, Goody.
