Enjoy . . .

An anger Grissom could not define had been his only comfort for the past few hours.

He stood in Nick's apartment, the living room to be exact. He stared down at the pools of dry crimson.

It had taken over thirty minutes to step into this room. Nick was brutalized here, and whoever did it was bent on making sure that he wouldn't be found.

Of course Grissom knew better, he would get the evil prick that did this and make him pay.

"Grissom!" a voice sounded in the hallway outside of Nick's bedroom.

It was Sarah.

"What have you got?" Grissom needed answers, he knew he should be helping but it was harder than he could ever imagine to stay concentrated. Memories and possibilities kept his mind completely full.

She lifted her gloved hand into the air, showing what she had come across.

It was Nick's backup gun, and it hadn't even been discharged. Which means he was taken by surprise.

"Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble not to get caught," Sarah tried to remain in control of her emotions, but it was getting harder, her eyes stung, holding back her tears was taking her utmost stamina. Keep it together, Grissom needs this.

Her realization came to her as a complete shock, why was she feeling at the edge of despair? She would be receiving no comfort from her team. Nick was going to live, but he might not ever wake up.

She shook her head at that, Nick was going to wake up, he had to. He wouldn't just leave them like that.

"Sarah?" Grissom had watched as Sarah had gone through at least a dozen emotions in the last minute. Her expression had changed with each one; she was going to give up on Nick.

"I'm sorry," Sarah tried to catch herself. Grissom could read people, and she knew he had seen right through her exterior, he knew what she was thinking.

Grissom's team couldn't work on this case; it was too . . . fresh. This was Nick, the boy wonder, and the do-gooder.

"Warrick, Catherine, Greg!" Grissom yelled. He had to get his team out of here, it was somehow . . . tainted.

The three came in at record. They all looked to their leader for direction. "We being taken off of this case," Grissom had done it, crushed any hope of being the ones to bring Nick's attacker to their knees.

"Wha . . . What happed?"

"Why are we being taken off?"

"What's gonna happen?"

"Who's taking over Nick's case?"

The questions had shot from their mouths quicker than a bat out of hell.

But they all understood his explanation, "We can't take the . . . anger, we need to be there for Nick when he wakes up. I'm afraid that I'll . . . kill the person who did this to Nick."

Slowly but surely all of the team members had nodded they're understanding.

The feeling was mutual; there was no telling what would happen if any one of the CSI were given five minutes alone with the guy what they would do.

They collected the equipment, and briefed the next best CSI team.

This night wouldn't be spent riding on angry feelings; it would be spent at a friend's bedside.

It was so easy; the hospital staff was clueless.

He would get into Nick's room; he had to see his friend. Making sure that he was still breathing was priority number one.

Nigel only hoped that the guy he had knocked unconscious in the medicine room wouldn't wake up before he had given Nick his gift.

The crisp white doctor's coat fit perfectly.

Room 149, this was it.

The shock of seeing Nick in such bad shape didn't even faze him. The tube that snaked from his mouth did have an affect on him though.

He watched with fascination as it forcefully pushed air into Nick's lungs. Up and down, up and down.

Get the job done! He repeated in his head like a mantra.

The syringe in his pocket would do its job; he injected it quickly into the CSI's I.V.

A sound at the door startled the man on a warpath.

Spinning around he came face to face with Gilbert Grissom.

TBC