If his hearing was at its best, he might have heard of splintering wood from the first impact. However, Grissom didn't notice the tale tell sound, because the next thing he knew there was a huge thunder-blast. The roar of the Calvary was followed by shouts, frantic screams from Nick and what could have been a herd of elephants from hell barreling in only a few feet away.

"Police! Everyone Freeze!"

Light streamed in, blinding him. Grissom whirled around, still hunched over, placing himself in front of Nick, whose screams only blended in with the chaos of the warehouse.

"Clear!"

"Got two bogies. Freeze!"

"Is that them?"

"Clear, Clear!"

Grissom felt torn between consoling the now near catatonic man next to him and the urge to yell at the SWAT team to shut the hell up. His vision was still a splatter of bright colors, and he couldn't see a damn thing in front of him. The supervisor made out a blurry shape near him.

"Dr. Grissom?"

"Yes," he replied irritably to the shadowy figure.

"We found them!" the voice yelled.

"Everything's all clear," echoed in the room.

Gil shielded his eyes and glanced worriedly down at Nick, who was eerily silent now. The younger criminalist was breathing so rapidly, Gil was certain he was going to pass out. Grissom took his CSI's limp hand. "Nicky, help's here. You're safe."

Grissom felt reanimated; this is what he had hoped for so many hours now. He stood up and did his best to continue ignoring all his aches and pains. His vision was adjusting slowly. Several SWAT officers were already exiting the tiny warehouse after their sweep, but there were still three hovering around the door. Before Gil could give his first order, Jim Brass huffed his way in.

The gruff man took in the sad sight of Gil Grissom and swiftly made his way over.

"Jesus, Gil. What the hell happened to you?"

Grissom fixed the Captain with a glare that could halt traffic. "Get these men out of here now, Jim!"

Brass seemed flustered as his expression switched from relief to worry. "Damn it Gil! What's goin' on? Did one of those assholes do this?" Jim indicated the bruised and battered supervisor's face.

The older man pointed past the detective, his finger extended towards the hulking crowd of officers. "These men, need to leave. Now!" Grissom barked.

Jim Brass's expressive face showed his unhappiness, but turned to his men and dispersed them. The highly efficient team cleared the warehouse as the older detective stepped closer towards his colleague and peered down at Nick Stokes' quivering form on the ground. "My God, Gil..."

Grissom stooped him mid sentence. "We need a set of EMT's here ASAP. I don't care if you have to order air and rescue. The quicker the better. Get them here, and then I'll explain. I don't want anyone else in this building, got it?"

Brass had only heard that tone once or twice in his life. Knowing that questions could wait, he got on his radio and informed the proper authorities of the need for immediate medical assistance. Come hell or high water, paramedics would get here as fast as possible.

The Captain had EMT's on standby when he conducted their little raid. A huge fourlane accident several miles away had diverted the much needed medics. He'd let them go. Now Jim's usually calm demeanor was definitely shaken by the urgency and weird insistence of his colleague. Jim returned back to the cramped building after he kept his promise to keep the entrance empty.

Jim entered a bit more cautiously, acutely aware of the seriousness of the situation. He squatted next to the two men on the ground and nervously ran his hands through his thinning hair as he watched the Graveyard supervisor mutter self assurances to a nearly unconscious Nick Stokes.

Grissom looked up at him. "Get everyone away from the entrance. I don't want a crowd. Grab a car and park it near the entrance with the air conditioning on full blast. Find as many bottles of water that you can get your hands on."

Jim finally found the use of his vocal cords. "I'm on it. But, Gil, I can't keep Warrick away. He came here with us, while the others went to the pharmacy. I've had my boys literally restraining the guy."

Grissom bit his lip. "Let him in, but I need everything else right now," he said rather curtly.

Brass was out the door before Gil finished his last syllable. Nick wasn't hyperventilating any more, but he also didn't seem to notice Gil's presence.

Grissom heard another set of hurried footsteps and Warrick Brown was instantly next to both men. The supervisor glanced up at the lanky man, who was breathing rather harshly. Grissom cut him off from what he knew would be a barrage of questions by raising his hand.

"Jim's bringing a car around. I need you to help me get Nick into the front seat. Try not to spook him."

Grissom kept his left arm snug against his chest as he maneuvered his way to one side of the sick CSI.

Warrick chewed on the inside of his lip. The tension was so thick right now you could cut it with a knife. He couldn't keep his need for answers silent for very long, but it was plainly obvious that action was more pertinent right now than information. He went to Nick's other side, and breathed in deeply when he saw his friend's state. The man was definitely in bad shape.

The CSI pulled Nick up in unison with Grissom, draping the ex-jock's arm around his neck and wrapping his left arm around the slim waist. Nick was all dead weight, despite the fact that the Texan struggled to get his feet underneath him and failed miserably.

Grissom grunted, his face looked pinched with pain. It was the first time Warrick noticed the bruising all around Grissom's face, and it looked like someone used him as a punching bag. The older man was having a very difficult time shouldering his burden. Warrick grappled with his charge, now in full blown concern mode. Was his supervisor more injured than he appeared?

Both men literally dragged the criminalist out of the warehouse. Nick was mumbling incoherently, and thrashed around a bit as he fought against their efforts to lead him out of the grimy prison. Warrick took on most of Nick's weight, and carried the man over to the awaiting vehicle despite Nick's weak attempts to get out of both men's grasps.

Grissom had been talking in soft whispers the whole time, and that alone made Warrick even more nervous about this whole situation. Jim yanked open the door to his car and anxiously awaited his next set of instructions.

"Move the seat back to give him some leg room," Grissom huffed between heavy breaths.

Brass adjusted the set and leaned it back as well. Gil handed Nick to Warrick, groaning when he was relieved of the weight. Warrick angled Nick into the seat as best he could from his end.

The car's engine was running, the air going at full blast. The blessed cold felt good even from Gil's position. Nick was somewhat situated in the vehicle's seat, his body still racked by that damn trembling, but at least he wasn't fighting them any more. Nick's head lolled to one side and he panted harshly.

The supervisor held out his left hand out expectantly. "I need that water."

The shell shocked detective wordlessly handed him a bottle. He had several more stuffed in his rumpled suit pocket and was awaiting several more from his guys. Brass had sent men scrambling for as much water as they could find, not knowing a damn thing about what was going on, but he did have a sinking suspicion.

Grissom took the bottle and resisted gulping some of it down himself. His own throat was parched, his mouth cottony and dry. He quickly undid the cap and started pouring the fresh liquid over his CSI's chest, neck, and into his hair.

Grissom tersely snapped his fingers. "I need more."

The supervisor was rewarded with two more bottles. He quickly soaked Nick's head and face with the liquid in one, and dumped the rest over his already wet T-shirt. Grissom poked his hand out again and it was swiftly filled with another one. This time the supervisor gently patted Nick's face.

"Nicky, can you open your mouth?" Gil knew it was doubtful he'd get a response, but he had to try.

His criminalist didn't react, and Grissom carefully dribbled water over Nick's lips and into his partially open mouth. The much needed liquid instead dribbled down his cheek, and Grissom sighed in frustration.

"What are the medic's ETA?"

Jim felt relieved that he could now speak. "Maybe another five or ten minutes. We're in the middle of nowhere, but I know they're hauling ass as we speak. Chopper would have done no good; it's being used for a serious car pile up on the strip."

"What the hell is goin' on Grissom? Those assholes squeeze you for information?" Warrick demanded, tired of being pushed aside.

"If only we were so lucky," Gil muttered under his breath.

The supervisor took some of the water and drank it down slowly. He closed his eyes briefly, relishing the coolness of the refreshment. Grissom had been so keenly focused on the well-being of his coworker that he never took stock of his situation. He glanced around and noted a virtual army of cops canvassing the area. Almost all of Jorge's goons were handcuffed and were kneeling down close to the house that Gil and Nick had been held in earlier.

"Gil," Jim pressed onward with his need for answers.

"Short version. We were held in that warehouse by Jorge Carlos. The priest injected Nick with some form of PCP, or PCP mixture." Grissom peered at two sets of bewildered eyes. "We dealt with it the best we could," he said coldly, his voice empty.

"What? Jesus, Gris. How... I-I mean... why?" Warrick stammered, one of the few times he had difficulty with his racing thoughts.

"I don't know and right now, I can't focus on that. PCP, in addition to all of the havoc it does to your nervous system, raises your body temperature. We've been stuck in that damned oven for hours with no food or water. We've got to keep heat stroke at bay as much as possible," Grissom explained.

Warrick Brown stared at his supervisor with a horrible realization clouding his features. "Did Nick... hit you, Gris?" He didn't want to say it. Couldn't believe that the words came out of his mouth.

Grissom fixed him with an icy glare. His face twitched. "Not a word," he replied in between clenched teeth.

Brass didn't voice any of his own questions. He had an idea about what happened, and that was a subject best discussed for a later time.

Warrick knew that he should back down, but his mouth for once was ahead of any rational thought. "But..."

Grissom got right into his coworker's face, the veins around his face were popping out with the intensity of his anger. "This wasn't his fault. Got it!" Grissom hissed. "This was all the carefully orchestrated charade of..."

The supervisor saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. His head shot up when he spotted the priest being loaded into one of the patrol cars.

"Bring that man here now!" Gil commanded. Gil turned to Warrick, "Keep en eye on Nick."

The Captain looked over at whom the supervisor was screaming about. Jim hurried over and helped "escort" Jorge Carlos over.

The Detective brought him to another car parked only a few feet away from where they were tending to the ill criminalist.

Despite a great deal of pain, Grissom grabbed the handcuffed man by his shirt lapels and slammed him against the side of the patrol car. The officer was about to interfere, but moved away when Jim Brass signaled him to back off.

Grissom was breathing hard, his fury barely contained. "You're going to tell me exactly how much poison you gave my criminalist and what exactly was in it. Or heaven help you," The enraged CSI seethed.

Jorge Carlos squirmed a little and fixed the agitated man with a cool glare. "Your anger is unnecessary, señor. I merely steered him on the path, it's up to him if he completes the journey."

Grissom's body shook with barely controlled rage, but before he could act upon it, he heard the distant sound of sirens approaching the isolated area.

Author's notes:

What else can I say, other than thank you again for such support. What a wonderful and engaging amount of readers.

rozzy-

I'm glad I've kept you on the edge of your seat, its boring just to dally around too much. (smiles). I really liked peeling away the layers of Grissom's wall, and its been interesting digging deep into Nick's psyche using a cattle prod so to speak! Thank again for your detailed comments, they make a writer blush and beam.

Lament-

Thank you. Gil has so many roles, that even he's not sure of them.

MS2-

I really wanted to write about Gil and Nick without anyone else coming into the picture, the challenge of doing so lent it self to this dark little plot. Its be a joy to write and kept me on my toes.

Designation-

I kind of dealt you a curve ball with this chapter. I couldn't keep the guys in that warehouse too long, then plot would only stagnant I think if I did.

Vonnie-

Thank you for your wonderful words. Glad to know that everything is realistic and that you can imagine all the things going on in Nick's head. A true compliment.

Silverdragon-

Yeah! This is kind of a thriller, isn't it. Thanks again, glad I could create a pretty intense little story.

a.remains-

Take hulluncations and add extreme hat, and I felt it would contribute to the type of scary imagery Nick would see.

Groban-

They are out! Still some stuff to deal with, but I couldn't trap my CSIs too long. Glad you are having so much fun! Hoped the update was quick enough.

amarawind-

Yeah imagine laying under the sun on that beach for hours, with no water. Poor Nicky. Glad you're having a nice vacation.

mudhousejunkie-

I'm tickled. I think this story is going to be know for the "tire iron" scene. (smiles)

csifan-

Here you go! No more "bashing" Gil and Nick. However, the violence in this story was not meant to be shock factor issue, just a sad result of the growing insanity that Nick was enduring.

Higherbeingfriendsfan-

Gil will have a lot of time to dwell on his experience inside that place, maybe he'll come to some conclusions.

pip-

Breathe my friend!

mad maggie-

Its my addiction to write these stories, gives me a lot of happiness. Its also very exciting to know that other people do enjoy it. Glad I was able to keep you on the edge of your seat! Thank you so much!

nikki-

Here's an update. Thank you.

pike-

Thank you.

sarah-

Thank you. This still has a few chapters so we shall see.

Amy-

I agree. I love Grissom, and I think he's brilliant, however he doesn't seem know how to articulate emotions, or just is not very good at responding and dealing with them. Not a negative quality, its just his way and I'm sure its very frustrating.

When you write multiple chapters of a story you tend to run out of pronouns. I hate writing a characters name over and over..seems old. However, I've always loved Nick's slight accent. Its seems to get thicker when he's angry or dealing with stress. Since I adore it, and its noticeable that he is from Dallas, I like to refer to him as the Texan every once in a while as a term of endearing.

sokerfreak-

Thank you.

wolfwood-

I agree. Gil has a very commanding way, he seems to capture respect. Nick really looks up to him, especially in season 2. He's a very smart man and I'm not sure anyone else would have been able to handle Nick. Of course not sure if anyone else would inspire such intense emotions from Nick as well.