Nick switched the light into his right hand and picked up a gallon sized zip lock bag filled to the brim with pills. For the first time that day he allowed himself a wide smile. He could lift prints easily from plastic. He held in his hand the first very real break in the case. He glanced down at the two way radio clipped to his belt, carefully set the bag down, and was about to grab it to alert the others to his findings when felt a tight grip on his shoulder.
Before he could react he felt himself driven inside the locker, his forehead connecting hard with the metal interior with a sickening 'crack'. Nick's vision grayed out and the radio dropped from his hand, clattering down on the tile floor. Two hands now gripped both of his shoulders, yanked him out of the locker, then one hand repositioned itself in his shirt collar before he was rammed into the door of the next locker. He hadn't even had a chance to stand, as he was still in a somewhat crouched position, and no way in control of his legs at the moment. His forehead was slammed against the locker door again, his head exploding in pain.
Still stunned and reeling from the blows to his head, he was easily manhandled to the right, and literally forced to stumble wherever his assailant was forcing him to go. Nick was only on his feet for the briefest of moments as he was pushed towards the whirlpool. He almost fell before reaching the tub, and he was pulled up by his shirt, his attacker remaining behind him, hidden from view.
Nick was shoved forward till his legs and waist collided with the edge of the whirlpool. Realization of what was happening seeped into his fuzzy mind. With his free right hand, he reached down for his gun holstered to his belt, but as his fingers touched the handle, his arm was quickly yanked behind his back. His assailant had a tight grip on his right wrist, and it was being pulled high and pinned somewhere between his shoulder blades.
He yelped as if felt like his arm was popped out of his socket. His left hand was gripping the side of the tub as the attacker was trying to plunge him into the water. He was being overpowered, and his head was still pounding from a concussion, blood dripping down his face from multiple contusions caused by the locker's vents. It was a wonder he was still conscious. Knowing what was going to happen, Nick did the only thing left in his power, he screamed for help.
Nick was able to let out a yell before a hand forced his head into the water. Nick opened his eyes to only see blurry colors of gray and silver from the inside walls of the tub. He had used what little breath he had to scream for help and now his air had been cut off. His head felt like it was going to explode and he tried to use his left hand to push back against his assailant. However a very strong hand was keeping his head submerged in the swirling waters. Nick tried to free his right hand, hoping that with the use of both arms he would be strong enough to break free, but his attacker was only forcing his right hand further along his back; it felt like his shoulder was being ripped off.
He wanted to howl in pain, the agony from his head and arm competing with his lungs that were beginning to starve from lack of oxygen. Knowing he was losing his battle, he lashed out with his left arm, releasing his death grip on the tub. Being pinned like he was, it didn't really do any good as he tried to buck up and slam his fist into the body over him. Nick was only able to land a glancing blow, barely brushing against his foe. So, he used what little strength was left and scratched at his attacker. He felt his nails slice at flesh, then he grip the tub again as he contiuned to struggle against his assilant. Once he had let go of the whirlpool, his attacker had repositioned himself. Nick felt the suspect dig a knee into the small of his back, pinning the CSI's lower body against the tub.
The rim of the whirlpool dug painfully into Nick's diaphragm, forcing out what small amount of air he had left. Nick felt his limbs tingling, and the inside of his head felt as if it was a pressure pot about to explode. Unable to take in any air, his body betrayed him in a desperate effect to suck in oxygen, and he breathed in water. Nick squeezed his eyes shut as his struggles got weaker. He tried to kick at the perp's legs to trip him, but his attacker remained rooted behind him. Nick screamed in his head, yelling curses at his lack of strength, for letting himself get too run down to properly defend himself. One of the last thoughts through his mind was that he didn't even get a look at who was trying to kill him. Then after several moments his body slackened. The CSI's feet slipped beneath him, his knees dangled above the floor.
Nick's attacker held him firmly against the tub for a few more seconds. The suspect's hand never let up the pressure on both his twisted arm and submerged upper body. The suspect jiggled Nick's neck, watching his head bobble in the water. Knowing that time was of the essence, the assailant released the prone man and watched as the criminalist slid to the side and crumpled to the floor. The attacker kicked him once and seemingly satisfied, he took the CSI's gun. The perp paused a moment at the open locker and grabbed the bag of pills and quickly ran out the door leading to the outside.
Jim Brass had been helping Catherine inspect drawers and roam through file cabinets. He had several years on the job working with crime scene investigators and led the unit a few years before. He knew what to touch and what not to. Handling evidence had never really been a problem. However, he had contributed all that he could without being in the way. The office was small, so he had set search for the pool area to maybe give Nick a hand.
He walked down the hallway glancing around. He stopped outside the weight room, having not memorized the layout of the facility as of yet. He stared at the door, trying to decide if he should go ahead inside and have a look around when he heard a noise.
Jim stood in front of the door listening to his surroundings. With three CSI's running around, who knew what things they were doing. His instincts told him that what he had heard was a scream, but in this area of the gym it sounded more like a muffled voice or a yelp perhaps. He headed inside the room listening for any more sounds, but heard only silence. It was only a brief noise, and he wasn't quite sure where it originated from except further into the facility.
Jim picked up his pace, keeping his hand near his hip where his gun was resting. He came across another door and looked up at the sign above it. Physical therapy room; he knew Nick was in there and he opened the door to see if the criminalist had heard the noise or if the detective could chalk it up to an over active imagination.
The detective blinked several times as he entered the overlit room. He scanned the area, looking for his colleague, when he saw the body of the CSI sprawled on the floor near the whirlpool.
Jim Brass grabbed his gun and quickly searched the room for a suspect. He wanted to head straight for his fallen friend, but he needed to secure the room first. He canvassed the open area, checking behind the door, around the lockers and finally out in the hallway leading out of the room. Satisfied that there wasn't anyone lurking around, he grabbed his CB radio and ran over to Nick Stokes' unmoving body.
Jim's heart was beating a mile a minute as he spoke into his two radio, which would be picked up by a police operator as well as his coworkers still in the building. "This is Detective Jim Brass requesting immediate back up and medical assistance at 1200 Brown Lane at Gold's Gym. Officer down, I repeat officer down."
Jim dropped his radio down on the floor and quickly checked the CSI for a pulse. "Dammit!" He cursed when he felt nothing under his fingertips.
Jim Brass rolled Nick onto his back, shaking his head furiously when he saw that the criminalist's chest was perfectly still. "Don't do this, Nicky!" he yelled as he pinched the CSI's nose and began breathing air into his lungs.
Jim went over and crossed his hands together. He counted down a certain number of ribs, placed pressure on the younger man's chest and began pumping his heart. He kept repeating in his head his medical traning. Two breaths and15 compressions, echoed in his head
"Catherine! Warrick! I need help in here," he yelled, hoping that the other CSI's were running towards them. As much as he didn't want them to see one of their own in this state, he desperately needed help to save Nick's life.
Catherine Willows was on a chair in Michelle Wilson's office trying to search for anything out of the ordinary on one of the book shelves. She had one of her gloved hands feeling for any items hidden on top when the static of her radio interrupted the silence of the room.
When she heard Jim Brass's request for backup and medical assistance, her adrenaline surged through her and she jumped down from the chair. When she heard the words, "Officer down," her heart ran cold. Catherine stormed out of the room, grabbing her two way radio.
"Jim, this is Catherine, where are you?" she yelled into it as she ran down the hall.
Catherine didn't know who was hurt, and the panic that gripped her chest was causing her to stumble almost blindly through the building. She yelled into the radio a few more times, without a reply. The silence only made her more desperate to find the detective. She grabbed her gun in one hand, wielding the radio in the other. If there was a need for back up, she was going to be prepared. She ran towards the employee locker area, when the door to that room swung open violently and someone headed towards her.
Catherine trained her gun, only to point it to the floor when a very worried Warrick Brown almost collided with her in the hallway.
"Catherine!" he yelled. Warrick was breathing hard and locked eyes with his coworker. "What's going on?"
Catherine saw the concern in his dark eyes and shook her head. "I don't know. We need to find Jim."
Relived to find Warrick all right, the senior CSI could only worry about where her other partner might be.
Both criminalists seemed to be thinking the same dire thoughts. Warrick grabbed Catherine's shoulder. "Nick's in the physical therapy room, right?"
Catherine nodded and tried to pull herself together. Neither of them said a word as they raced down the hallway in search of Jim Brass and Nick Stokes. As they rounded a few more corners, they heard the older detective screaming for them to come and help him. Neither of them were prepared for what was going to happen as they bolted into the room.
Catherine and Warrick burst in and saw Jim Brass giving CPR to Nick beside the whirlpool. Catherine ran over towards the balding detective and instantly went into command mode, pushing down the fear of seeing someone she cared about lying motionless on the floor.
She went to her knees besides Nick's head. "I'll breathe, you do compressions."
Brass obeyed and scooted down. He waited for Catherine to adjust Nick's head and she covered his mouth with her own. She breathed air in, forcing Nick's chest to rise and fall. Jim waited for her to give one more breath, then he gave fifteen chest compressions.
Warrick squatted on the floor, staring wide-eyed at the unfolding drama. He cupped his chin with his hand, gritting his teeth so hard it was a wonder he didn't chip a tooth. He felt completely helpless as his colleagues administered life saving procedures. He readied himself to step in, just in case Jim or Catherine tired out.
Nick's eyes were closed, his skin was losing color, becoming more pallid as the seconds ticked by. There was a trail of blood down the side of the whirlpool. Warrick eyed its waters, tinged pink with suspicion, piecing together his partner's wet hair and face. Someone strong had overpowered his friend and drowned him. Nick Stokes was no lightweight; vibrant and quite capable of taking care of himself. Warrick fumed quietly by.
"Come on Nick!" he yelled encouragement to his friend as his colleagues continued to work on him.
Catherine felt her own lungs screaming; she felt slightly lightheaded, breathing hard for her friend. She glanced at Warrick, his brilliant green eyes pleading with her to save Nick's life. Her own mind was screaming the same thing. She waited for Jim to deliver more compressions; she heard the older man grunt "13... 14... 15."
Jim was sweating from the exertion, but he didn't care. He waited his turn, one more round of breathing, then back to his trying to start the CSI's heart. He began pressing down where he was trained when he heard a popping sound.
"Good God. I think I just broke one of his ribs!" he grunted in surprise. Brass felt moisture welling up in his eyes; this was not how it's supposed to happen!
"Move your hands over an inch and keep going," Catherine encouraged. A cracked rib would be one of the least of Nick's concerns.
The detective glanced over at Warrick. "'Rick, go outside and meet the ambulance. Guide them back here so they don't waste time trying to find us. Let the other units know it's clear to come in here," he panted breathlessly.
The detective saw the look of stubbornness on Warrick Brown's face: the grim absolute refusal to leave his best friend's side. But Jim glared meaningfully at the other criminalist and he knew that the man got the message.
Catherine bent down to breathe in more air, when she saw Nick's body jerk.
"Wait!" Catherine held Nick's face in her hands when he started to cough and sputter. "Jim, turn him to his side so he doesn't choke. I'll try to keep his neck stabilized."
Nick was rolled onto his right side as he began to throw up water. He coughed violently while harshly trying to suck in air. The CSI hacked and gasped, expelling fluid from his lungs.
"Jim, roll him carefully onto his back now." Catherine kept Nick's head aligned with his spine. She knew from the department's rescue training that stabilizing the neck was vital when there were signs of head trauma.
Jim Brass sat numbly on the floor, allowing a brief moment to compose himself. His arms trembled from the exertion of performing CPR and he caught Warrick staring at the three of them. Jim wordlessly looked at Warrick, his expression commanding the other CSI to go find the EMT's. Warrick ran out the door, obviously relieved to be leading a medical team back to a breathing Nick Stokes, albeit, still injured in more ways than one.
The CPR efforts got the CSI's circulation flowing again. His head was cut up pretty good and the wounds were bleeding profusely. Catherine wiped away the small amount of tears that had escaped. After several more minutes of gathering up her turbulent emotions, she looked over at Brass. "Can you find something to staunch this blood? Also, we need to find a blanket, he's in shock."
Jim got up, happy to have something to put his mind to, and searched the room for something to warm to drape over the criminalist. Knowing that this was now a crime scene, he slipped on a pair of latex gloves that he always kept in his coat pocket, and found several towels lying on a counter in the corner. He brought the items back and covered up Nick with the bigger one. Jim handed Catherine the cleanest looking towel.
Catherine moved her hand over to Nick's face and began brushing away the wet, limp strands of hair that were matted to his forehead. She pressed the towel down on the bleeding wounds, careful of the swelling. She bit down on her lip, trying to squelch the anger that was now rising inside her and quickly overpowering the desperation and fear.
Catherine sat there, the tension in her body becoming more palpable, until she heard the commotion of several people as they bounded through the doors to the room. Warrick was close behind two medics and several police officers.
Jim Brass walked over to the officers to fill them in on what happened while trying to keep them at the entrance, so as not to contaminate the scene any further than it all ready was. As he briefed his officers, several pairs of eyes gazed over his shoulder, obviously upset on an attack of one of their own.
Warrick crouched down next to Catherine as the medics hurried over to their patient. Warrick was tense, still in shock at what had just transpired. Nick was still unconscious, the blood seeping through the once crisp white towel that Catherine continued to press down on.
The lead medic, who Warrick had greeted at the entrance and gave the clear signal to enter, was younger, maybe in his late twenties. His name tag read Chase, and he looked over at Catherine. "How long did you perform CPR? Has he been lucid at all?"
"We did CPR for three or four minutes, I'm not sure. He hasn't woke up at all," Catherine explained rather shakily.
Jim Brass had wondered over, "I broke one of his ribs. Heard it pop, when I was doing chest compressions."
The other medic was reporting on his radio the status of their patient as Chase checked Nick's pulse and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm. "Pulse's 144, BP 80 over 58." He stated to the other EMT. Chase then applied a large bandage to Nick's head.
Chase looked at the other EMT, "Start lactated Ringers wide open."
Chase placed a pulse-oximeter on one of Nick's fingers and looked at the readout, "Saturation's at 93, I'm going to give him oxygen." The medic placed the oxygen mask over Nick's nose and mouth and turned to the other EMT. "Keep suction ready just in case he vomits more water."
The two medics then wrapped a cervical collar around Nick's head and had him strapped to a spinal board.
Warrick began following the gurney, and one of the EMT's glanced up at him. "Sir, you'll have to follow in your own car."
Nick was wheeled into the hall. Catherine was torn between going with him and staying on the scene to process it. Warrick's face was a grim mask, his mouth forming a straight line. He studied the senior CSI, knowing the difficult decisions she was trying to make. Both investigators didn't see Brass talking on his phone, and he flipped his cell off as he made his way to their sides.
"I just talked to Grissom. He says for the two of you to go to Desert Palm and he'll meet you there. My boys'll keep the scene secure until we can get another team out here."
Catherine didn't say a word. She wasn't sure if she agreed with her boss's decision, or was relived by it.
Jim looked at her. "He wants Warrick to interview Nick, when he can." The detective turned to the other CSI. "You'll need to process him, see if there is any trace on his clothes... document any injuries." Jim spoke in a low voice, his tone almost regretful.
Warrick swallowed. He knew that he'd have to photograph any marks or bruises. Grissom knew that, even though he and Nick were close, that the injured CSI would feel more comfortable around him than anyone else. Warrick turned to his stunned colleague, took her hand in his and looked in her eyes. "Let's go."
Catherine absently nodded and both of them left, knowing that the scene could wait.
TBC...
Author's notes:
I wanted to thank my wonderful beta Kris for all of her hard work and constant feedback sessions we had on this chapter. Without her help this section would not have been possible. Also thank again to all the people who have been supporting this story, I keep repeating myself, but it means a lot!
I wanted to post this the other day, but I knew was going through some data issues and had to wait.
rozzy07-
I'm sorry about giving your poor ticker a scare, seems to be the nature of my writing. Of course I don't know how this entire story is going to effect you from now on. I'm going to be just slightly evil from now on.
sabrina-
Its in the nature of some writers to end chapters at exciting parts of the story, yes. :-) However, we have to end them somewhere...its just to keep the reader on high alert. The end of this one is not as bad I hope.
PL Wynter-
Again that ESP. Yep Catherine is there to help out the poor lamb...poor Nicky, he's in for a few rough days ahead.
A.Remains-
I hope this chapter was a good answer to all of your questions. Always good to hear from you, your enthuasim is so infectious.
Groban
Thank you again for your kind words. I do write these stories ahead of time, so that everyone can get reguar updates. Just enough time to drive everyone crazy, but fast enough to take care of everyone's fix!
Jewelbaby
Thank again.l With all the angst I wrtie, I'm sure I'll do a little one off here and there. Can't be so mean to my favorite CSI all the time.
StarespCat-
Thanks! Here you go.
Designation
I love Warrick! The only good thing to come from the split in shifts are the constant scene between Nick and Rick. I'm working on another story that focuses on them since I adore writing them together so much. Writing actiojn can be a challenge to try to balance good fast paced sections that are not cheesy. Glad you enjoyed the rush, this chapter kicked it up a notch again I hope.
mudhousejunkie-
Thanks for all the comments. I like the angst as well, but I really wanted to flesh out the plot and chracterss in this fic, it makes the exciting parts stand out that much more I think. I love action, but in my opnion you care more about the characters if you spend a bit more time with them.
cl-
Screaming does help. Glad you liked it!
