I'm going to try and update three times a week now.
Nick leaned against the child's dresser, and fought his body's desire to slide all the way down to the floor. Greg was beside him, frantic with fear. Nick felt a wave of lightheadedness and he clutched at his stomach out of instinct.
Greg kneeled down beside the woozy criminalist and took out his cell phone. He dropped it with fumbling hands, and then clamored around the floor for it. He kept glancing back up at Nick, and touched his shoulder softly before flailing around for his stupid phone.
The younger man was able to gather his wits long enough to request backup and an ambulance. Then he shoved the device into his pants pocket.
Nick looked over and gave him a small smile. "Good thinking," he mumbled.
Greg let out a hysterical grunt and then lifted up Nick's T-thirt to view the damage. The CSI's eyes lit up as he saw the flesh cut open from a single slice across Nick's ribcage. Greg scanned around the room for something to staunch the flow of blood.
Nick fumbled with the hem of his soaked shirt and peered down at his belly. "It looks worse than it feels," he said offhandedly.
Greg stared at him, shaking his head at the absurdity of the words. "Hold on," he said breathlessly.
The rookie dashed down the hall to the bathroom and grabbed a handful of towels. He returned with the linen and squatted down next to the injured man. Greg folded the towel lengthwise then pressed it against the wound, eliciting a hiss of protest from the other man.
"Sorry," Greg mumbled when Nick flinched from the pressure.
Greg did the best he could as he tried to keep makeshift bandage in place. Nick leaned his head back against the furniture and closed his eyes.
"He was right here," he shook his head, angrily. "Goddamnit! So fucking close," he chided himself.
"All the background checks came back normal. I mean, there was nothing to indicate he was a suspect," Greg offered, as he started to realize who had taken the CSI hostage.
Nick still cursed at himself, and the younger man did his best to calm him down. "Dude, please, man. Relax." Greg didn't want Nick to harm himself any further.
"Goddamn bastard's going to 'test' him," Nick went on, working himself into a frenzy.
Greg started listening out for the sirens. He had no clue how long it had been since he made the call. His cell phone had been vibrating nonstop since he dialed for help. The rest of the team was bound to get here. How was he ever going to explain to them what happened? Greg tried to keep his hands from shaking and tried to compose himself. He'd have to fill out a report and he still had no clue what happened or why Nick even came back to the house.
He had broken so many procedures. Hell, he didn't even know what the rules were concerning what had just transpired. Not only did the suspect taunt him, but he succumbed to the fear that the assailant had honed in on. If that wasn't bad enough, he let him get away. Greg tried to dismiss his selfish ramblings when he finally heard the wail of a siren.
"Help's coming," he tired to reassure the other criminalist. Greg frowned.
Nick didn't seem to be paying him any attention. The wounded man just continued to mutter about how everything was going to be too late. Greg felt helpless as his attempts of comfort were having zero effect. 'Its just shock,' he tried to reason as the downstairs boomed with the shout of police as they entered the home.
"Why the hell were you guys even there?"
Warrick Brown paced up and down in the waiting room of the ER, while he continued to grill Greg Sanders about the events that lead up to the disastrous encounter back at the Todd residence. The tech sat meekly in one of the hard plastic chairs, giving soft one-worded answers.
Greg was clearly shaken by the ordeal. He had watched helplessly as the EMTs arrived and assessed the injured CSI. Instead of following along to the hospital, the CSI Level 1 was immediately confronted by both Jim Brass and Sara Sidle asking what had occurred. The younger man gave a detailed account about what had transpired, which wasn't much. The female criminalist remained to process the scene, and the burly captain had returned to police headquarters to keep an eye on the Todds, who remained in custody.
Warrick had stormed in awhile ago, and Greg sat there dejectedly as the worried man took out his frustration. No one had seen or heard any news regarding the subject of their worry. Deep down inside Greg knew that Warrick was just as steamed at Nick for his reckless and very questionable behavior. Right now, however, the frantic man had nowhere to vent.
"I just followed him there. I-I, don't even know why we went," Greg said, never meeting the green blistering eyes of his coworker.
Warrick kicked at one of the empty chairs and then sat down heavily into it. Warrick sighed, his elbows propped on his knees. "I'm sorry, Greg." The older man cast a weary look towards his colleague.
Greg remained silent, not really sure he deserved any kind of apology.
"Something's been off about Nick the past few days and I-I just dismissed it." Warrick rambled as his way of explanation.
Greg stared at the tiled floor. "I had no clue what to do. I—I just froze up."
Warrick's nostrils flared. "There's no training for what happened. Both of you could have been killed."
If the words were meant to encourage or make him feel better, Greg didn't feel the intended impact. He glanced down at his disheveled appearance, noting the blood on his jeans. Before he could rally himself to freshen up, a very frustrated ER doctor came over to both men.
"I'm Doctor Taylor," a woman in her early thirties, with long red hair that was pulled away in a ponytail, addressed the criminalists.
Warrick and Greg stood up immediately.
"How's he doing?' Warrick asked, trying to calm down his nervous insides.
Dr. Taylor sighed, glancing at her chart and back up towards the men. "Mr. Stokes has a deep laceration extending laterally across his entire midsection right above his navel. He received stitches on both the inside and out, closing the wound. We also gave him a unit of blood to replace what he lost."
"How long does he have to stay?" Warrick questioned the doctor.
The physician bristled in irritation for a moment. "We planned on keeping him overnight for observation; however, Mr. Stokes is currently signing the paperwork to leave against medical advice."
"What!" Warrick blurted, louder than he intended.
The doctor gave him a wan smile. "Maybe you can change his mind. I don't really recommend him leaving. He's even talking about returning to work, which I find a bit ridiculous."
"The hell he's going to leave this place," Warrick growled. "You lead the way to that stubborn man." Warrick pointed toward the inside of the hospital.
The physician sighed. "I hope you might talk some sense into him." She led the CSIs to Nick's cubicle.
Nick lay on his bed, replaying the scenarios in the house over and over again. Jason Todd was alive… somewhere. He needed to get back to the lab, to re-focus the team on their new suspect. Nick's instincts had gone haywire on this case. His inability to step away and observe obscured by things better left alone and buried.
He hadn't been wrong about Matt Todd. Nick somehow sensed the sickness in that man, no matter how reformed he would claim to be. The criminalist had begun formulating a game plan. His thoughts were interrupted by the curtain being slid away, revealing three distinctly unhappy people.
Nick moved his head; his body wasn't really up to shifting around too much right now. He sighed, this wasn't what he needed right now. He could sense the frustration radiate from his partner. Warrick and his doctor were going to play tag team against him.
It wouldn't work.
"So, you get yourself almost slit in half, and now you think you can just walk outta here?" Warrick taunted.
Nick rubbed at his face, the IV pulling at the skin in the crook of his elbow. He looked down at his hospital-issued shirt and pants. His clothes were ruined- evidence now. He'd need something to wear when he left.
Warrick was aggravated at being ignored. "Just listen to your doctor, she has a degree in medicine and you don't."
Dr. Taylor shifted next to the angry criminalist. It was obvious she agreed with the man, but was too professional to vocalize it. Or intervene with the reprimand.
Nick subconsciously rubbed at his stomach, his fingers brushed over carefully wrapped gauze and bandages. He had been in a haze of pain and shock when he had entered the ER, his belly burned, and his guts felt like they had been ripped out. If that had been the case, he would have required surgery instead of the repair job done by the resident on call, using only a local. After they had topped him off with a unit of blood, he had regained the use of most of his brain.
His belly still burned, his head roared with a fierce headache, but all of that didn't matter. He had lost, what, two hours? Time was slipping away. A child was still alive, there was still hope. It all rested on the ability to find Brent Nero.
He'd been damned if he lazed around licking his wounds, while a bright boy was subjected to God knew what kind of terror. Nick looked over at his best friend. Warrick Brown berated him with a decent amount of logic, even if it was rooted in deep worry. He didn't need concern right now. Nick was still in charge and had the ability to salvage the remnants of this case. He'd have to push himself harder than he ever had, but it needed to be done.
"We don't have time to coddle me. We need every member on the team centered on this case. There is still time to save Jason." Nick's voice was hoarse and thick from not being used.
He swallowed when he felt he had the attention of the three people in the room. "He's still alive. Every second wasted is another one that monster has to do whatever he wants with him before he's killed like the others."
Nick moved up in his bed, ignoring the splitting sensations in his flesh. He felt the room spin, and then right itself. He wet dry lips, his mouth felt like dry cotton. "I'm not debating this." Nick eyed the physician and his two coworkers. "I won't have his death on my conscience when there was something I could have done to prevent it."
He stared at Warrick and then Greg. "Will you?"
Warrick shook his head. "Nick, man."
"Just help me get ready. I need clothes. I've got an hour before I can go, right?" Nick looked over at the female physician who stiffened during his little speech.
"You have to wait for your IV to finish, and then you can leave." She cleared her throat. "It's still AMA. I'm not recommending it."
Nick shifted his gaze back at his friends. He could feel their reluctance, but his words had hit home. They were wavering.
"I'll… I mean, I'll grab you something to wear," Greg offered.
The lanky criminalist didn't give him a glare. He still stewed and wrestled with Nick's argument. Nick nodded his head in thanks, not wanting to ruin the acceptance with words.
Greg slipped out of the room, leaving Warrick Brown to pull up a chair and start filling his partner in on what little had happened since his attack.
Slipping into a pair of Dockers wasn't a terribly difficult thing to do. He stared at the black long-sleeved shirt with more caution. It was button up, thank goodness. Nick slipped his arms into the sleeves, hissing when he had to stretch them so they fit into the holes. The stitches pulled around the tear along his midsection.
Not really enjoying these kind of masochistic acts, Warrick huffed loudly, as he helped Nick get the garment on. Nick shrugged him away, when his partner even started buttoning it up for him.
Dr. Taylor looked over at him, arms crossed, and obviously not happy about a patient of hers flying the coop. She handed a bag to the taller criminalist. "Make sure he takes these antibiotics and pain pills." She looked over at Nick. "It's obvious he doesn't have any self-preservation.
Nick looked sheepish, and was about to open his mouth to protest her assessment when she addressed him with a tone of voice reminiscent of some of his sternest professors.
"Don't do any bending, or any other kind of unnecessary movements. If you're working some case, keep to sitting down. You pop those stitches; you better get back here right away."
The doctor held onto Nick's gaze for a minute before addressing him again, alternating her stern expression between her patient and his partner. "Keep that wound clean and sterile. " She glared at the man. "I mean it. I'm a little concerned about your white blood count, its slightly elevated, which means you just got over being sick, or you're catching something. Of course, I'd know more if you stuck around long enough for some of your labs to come back."
Nick felt bad enough to look slightly chagrined. Warrick shot him a look that said 'this was a very bad idea', but it disappeared quickly. This was a serious situation.
"Thank you, Doctor. I'll be sure to follow all of your instructions," Nick tried to placate the woman as he stepped closer to the door and ultimately his escape from the hospital.
Warrick quickly thanked the physician and followed his partner out. The taller CSI kept his mouth shut concerning Nick's stiff and awkward movements as he maneuvered around.
"I'd say she was hitting on you there, bro," Warrick mentioned in an effort to lighten the mood but quickly changed the subject when Nick snorted his disagreement. They headed towards the SUV.
Warrick held the door open for the criminalist as Nick gingerly climbed into the passenger seat with slight difficulty.
"Greg went back to meet up with Sara. They've been digging into Nero's history for anything we might have missed," Warrick explained as they drove back to the lab.
"What about the Todds?" Nick inquired.
"They are still at the station. Their lawyer has been kicking up a fuss ever since you accused Matt Todd of a crime."
"I handed him some newspaper clippings," Nick corrected his partner. "But the man did commit a crime. And if he wants his son back, he's going to cut the bull and level with us," Nick growled.
The criminalist filled the other man in on most of the conversation that had taken place in Jason's room. Warrick mulled over the informationsilently. "The guy's a nut job. Who knows if what he's saying is the truth or not."
Warrick glanced over at his partner. "Matt Todd is involved in this somehow. He's going to have to fess up to some major shit and accept the consequences."
"It takes a man to face his evil deeds. I just hope he's more of a father than a monster after all these years." Nick adjusted the air conditioning slightly in the truck.
"You're going to have to deal with Brass and Sara when we arrive, man. They might not be as easy to snowball as me and Greg." Warrick warned. "They're both pretty pissed off right now. You still have a hell of a lot of explaining to do."
Warrick's voice faded into the background. Nick stared out the window, his brain going a million miles a minute. He replayed every vile word from the child murderer, looking for any clue into the man's madness. There was no time for mistakes. Nick would do everything in his power to make up for what happened, even if he had to drag Matt Todd into the street with a bullhorn and offer up the man in return for his kidnapped child.
tbc...
Author's notes at by bio. May take a few hours to show up as it takes the site a while to update. Thanks to Tinkerbell for her wonderful beta work!