Summary: Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.
Disclaimer: This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.
Author's Note: Hope y'all had a great holiday weekend and didn't lose any limbs during that mad shopping rush! I had to work it and let me tell ya, I hate retail with a passion unbeaten by anything. Big thanks to my four reviewers on the last chapter. You guys helped me out with how things are going. I really appreciate the time you took to write a little something for me. But now, onto the new chapter. Enjoy as always! Thanks again! Later!
Title: Poisonous Fear
By: duffshel
#11
The scene could have been out of one of those Western movies his father made him watch as a kid. All that was missing from this death march was the tolling bells in the background and the teary eyed women with their handkerchiefs. It was the longest steps Nick had ever taken on his way back through the glass doors of the crime lab.
The two polices officers did nothing more than kick the two criminalists out of the car and sped off. And Warrick didn't seem to be in the mood to take a hit anymore. His step was loaded, but not as bad as Nick's. Grissom was going to know there had been trouble on this house run. Even without the blossoming bruise on Nick's face, the looks each man wore would be enough.
Even though his head was lowered forward and his eyes locked on the floor passing under his feet, Nick could feel the stares and glances of the other people in the lab. He wanted the tiles to open up underneath his feet and swallow him whole. This was not going to be pretty.
Warrick took the lead once he noticed Nick's steps getting slower and slower. They could see the opening to the room that held their boss. Deep down he didn't want to go in there either, but he wasn't going to leave Nick alone in the lion's den. He wasn't that heartless when it came to friends. But he didn't look back or hesitate when he walked through the doorway.
Their boss didn't bother looking up at either man, "Sit."
Nick stood in the hallway just outside the office looking very much like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator. Hell would be a more pleasant place than this one. But, he took a deep breath to pass over the panic and walked in. Warrick was already seated when he took the other chair.
It was silent in the room. Grissom was still looking over the paper in his hands. The two younger men sat as still as they could waiting for some sort of direction. Nick resisted the urge to rub at the white cast on his arm. He didn't want to make any sudden movements.
"Nick, you're suspended for one week. Warrick, you're out of the field and in the lab for ten days."
Neither man was ready for that. It was clipped, simple. It was Grissom all the way down. He still hadn't looked up to gauge either reaction. That didn't matter to him. They were not going to get away with this type of behavior.
"But Gil! Nothing happened. In fact, we might have the dogs used in the mauling case," Nick couldn't sit still any longer.
That was enough for Grissom to look up at his two CSI's. His eyes narrowed when he finally took in their appearances. They both looked exhausted and beaten down. In fact, Nick looked like had had taken a real one. Grissom swore there had been no bruise on the man's face when they headed to the hospital earlier.
"Nothing happened," it was monotone, but sarcastic, "Since when do bruises form from out of nothing?"
Nick couldn't stop his hand from rising to his jaw, "Nothing major happened then."
Grissom put the paper down and grabbed the bridge of his nose. These two men were going to be the death of him. Not the job, the stress, or even Ecklie. But these two men, cowering in their chairs in front of him.
"I want a full report on what happened. Then I want you out of here Nick. You are not allowed back in these doors for a full seven days. Once you do come back, you are lab only until I say. Warrick, you are to report to Mia."
It was final. Warrick nodded slowly and stood. He waited as Nick struggled to get his frame up as well before he walked out of the office. Without asking Nick, he headed to the break room so they could start that report. As much as he hated doing lab work, Warrick didn't want to anger his boss anymore than he already had.
"So, what do we want to say?"
"What can we really? I mean hell, nothing really happened and we got the damn dogs! I swear, nothing is ever good enough for that man."
Nick kicked the cabinet door that was closest to him. He always hated being talked to like he was a child and was really sick of having it always come from Gil Grissom. No matter what he did or what leads he may have gotten, he always did something wrong in the eyes of that man. It was getting old, quick. Anger made him feel even worst and more tired, but he wouldn't let it stop him from expressing it.
"Fuck this shit. I am not going to fill out a damn thing! He can hunt me down if he wants, but since I've been suspended, I don't have to do anything work related. Sorry bro, but I'm gone."
Nick held his broken arm close to his body as he stormed from the room. He left a bewildered Warrick, but he found he really didn't care. Things had finally caught up to him from the beginning of this case and it was squeezing the shit out of him. Nick needed to get out of here. He needed to get away.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Catherine Willows stood with her back tight against the wall. The dogs may have been sedated, but she wasn't about to take any chances. Neither was cute and cuddly. They were a step away from being full blow Cujo. She wasn't in the mood to deal with this. This was supposed to be her time to fume at Grissom. He sent her away just when she was getting to the good vocabulary.
The city veterinarian was working quickly, but Catherine could still feel her impatience taking over. Both dogs were strapped to tables with their tongues pulled out to the side, a tube in their throat. The tiny man was currently taking records down of both canines' teeth. He had already pumped their stomachs and placed the contents in glass jars on the table. Catherine could feel her fingers tighten when he made that damn clicking noise.
Dr. Steven Wellsbry walked slowly between the two animals. He had nothing to rush off to. This was an important case and he wasn't about to be the one to blame when the murderer walked because of his examination of the dogs. The blonde woman behind him was easy to ignore, but he could feel her tension.
"I am almost done here, Mrs. Willows."
"Ms. Willows, please."
"Sorry. I only have to take a few more notes on the teeth and do a comb over. Should only be about ten more minutes. Why don't you go and get some coffee?"
She could feel the blow off, "Sure. I'll be back."
Catherine kept her back to the wall as she left. The animal clinic was white and clean, but didn't give off the vibes that most human hospitals did. It didn't mean she wanted to be on one of their tables any faster than the other. The break room for the help was on her left, two doors up. Only three other people were present in the building today, but the room was clear.
Taking a large cup of the brown brew, Catherine sat down in the purple plastic chair and rested her eyes for a moment. Once she was done here, she was going to have to go to the police station and meet up with Brass. Charlie Johnson was going to have some questions to answer. Grissom thought she should do it since the guys were out. Those thoughts made her mad again.
This was a big case and with Sara still gone, they needed everyone else. Even with his broken arm, Nick could help out. Catherine had heard what the doctor had said, but didn't really think it was necessary. She had broken her arm when she was younger and was ready to get back to things less than forty eight hours later. Nick didn't need a week. He probably couldn't handle a week.
And losing Warrick to the lab was not fair. He was good at the work that it took to be a technician, but he was much better as a CSI. This was going to hurt the case more than Grissom had to realize. It was just down to him, her, and Greg. She loved that kid, but he wasn't the former Vegas Gambler or the Texan Stud.
The coffee gave new fuel to her views. Catherine hadn't realized how much time had passed until she heard the door open. Dr. Wellsbry walked in and sat in the other chair. He wore a small smile. It was encouraging.
"Well, according to what your coroner found and what is present with these dogs, I would have to say they are the ones. You will want to check the stomach contents to be sure, but I would guarantee that it will contain cholesterol. I will hold the two until I receive word from you. Then I will follow procedures for cases like these."
Catherine cleared out her throat, "Thanks Doctor. That is good news indeed. I will just grab those jars. I have to meet with Captain Brass down at the station and attempt to learn more about those two beasts."
"Sounds good to me. I will let you know if anything else comes up with either animal. Good luck with this Ms. Willows."
The man left and Catherine downed the rest of her coffee. She stood and brushed her hands down the front of her shirt. Her hair moved from the breath she released. Catherine didn't want to waste any more time. This man had some things to answer for.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
The man behind the one way mirror was too damn relaxed. It was pissing Jim off more than it should. He wanted nothing more than to run in there and throttle the smooth smile off his face. News traveled fast and he heard what their trip had cost Warrick and Nick. He didn't feel bad about it, just pissed off. They were doing their jobs and got kicked in the ass for it.
He was waiting to for Catherine to arrive with information about those two demons they dragged from behind that garage. Vega was looking into the so called owner of them. Brass had a feeling nothing was going to turn up on that one. The kid had said they were his uncle's dogs. That was interesting to the captain.
All he wanted at this point was for Mr. Johnson to spill the beans on the dogs and how he got them to do that to that poor kid. He had a dog when he was a kid and all he could remember of it was that it was lazy and scared shitless about everything. It took a certain type of person to train a killer dog. Brass only hoped that person was the one currently examining his nails. He wanted to hit him.
These thoughts were halted by the new arrival, "I sure hope you have something good to tell me Catherine. I need some good news."
"Well, how about the knowledge we have the weapon for the mauling," Catherine smiled.
"Good. Lets go in and kick his ass then."
The burly cop lead the way back out into the hallway to the other door. He unceremoniously threw it open and barreled his way inside. Catherine walked a little calmer, but not by much. They both took seats in the other two chairs. Johnson didn't even bother to look up at either of them.
"So, Mr. Johnson. Where did you get those dogs?"
"Watching them for my wife's brother. Not mine."
Brass nodded, "But why would you bother to watch them when you obviously are not prepared to take care of them. That kennel left a lot to be desired."
The blonde man shrugged, "Not important. Just stupid dogs."
"Well, if they are so stupid Mr. Johnson, how could they be trained to be killing machines?" Catherine asked softly.
She watched as the other man tensed for a second. If she hadn't been watching for a reaction, she probably would have missed it. This was going to take careful words, set plans.
"I have no clue what you are talking about. Those dogs have only been behind my garage for three days and never have left that cage. They are too insane to be left anywhere else."
"So you admit there is something wrong with them?"
"Yeah, they snap and bark at anything that moves. I wouldn't let my son near them."
Brass looked down at his hands, "You sure he never went by them?"
"Never. He knew better. He knows when to listen."
"The dogs are dangerous and could possible harm your son," Brass kept his tone steady, "But why would you allow them to go after another boy?"
Mr. Johnson slammed his fists down onto the table in front of him, "I already said they never were out of that cage. They were supposed to be leaving tomorrow! I didn't even want them on my property!"
His face was red and a few veins were present in his neck. Catherine watched his hands as he flexed them. There was something more here. They needed to get him hooked up to a polygraph to make sure. He wasn't going to give them anything now.
"Mr. Johnson, I have one more question for you. It pertains to the reason you will be spending the night behind bars. Why did you attack the CSI at your house?"
His eyes bore into hers, "He was touching my son. No one does that. He needed to know that."
"Well, you are going to spend the night here with a few guys I think you might like. Get up. We are going to sign you on in," Brass stood and motioned to the other man.
Catherine ran a hand through her hair once she was alone. Her gut was protesting about everything. This case was just not working. She needed to get some rest. There was no way she was going to be able to see things clearly at this rate. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. It was time to call it a shift and go home, Grissom be damned.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
The phone rang. It was persistent, but he could ignore it. Nick rested his head on the back of his couch and starred up at the ceiling. His head hurt, his arm hurt, his pride hurt. Things were just not working for him anymore right now. It was getting ridiculous.
He had been home for only a short while, yet it felt like an eternity. The pill bottle was sitting on the table in front of him, but he wasn't ready to be numbed. Nick had thoughts running wild through his head and wanted to be able to think about them. The drugs would take that away from him. Control was his for as long as he could stand the throbbing.
That afternoon was on repeat in his brain and each time he picked something new out. Miguel had not been afraid of the garage until the dogs began barking. He had been afraid of his father. The wife did nothing to stop her husband. He fought too much for things to be nothing. Something was up.
Nick lifted his good hand and began to claw at the cast without even realizing it. The flesh underneath the protective barrier was beginning to itch and there was nothing he really could do about it. His attempt with a clothes hanger earlier had not been pretty. Experiments of that sort were being held off. He would itch.
The phone rang again. This time he picked it up and looked at the display. It was only Catherine's third call. She had a ways to go to catch up to Warrick. The other man had called him a grand total of eight times. Nick had to say though he enjoyed the threats left over his voice mail. Gave him something to laugh about. But he had enough. The phone was silenced.
His body was tired and it was winning the battle. Nick hefted himself off the plush furniture and grabbed the little orange bottle on his way. The walk down the hallway was short enough and he sank down onto his bed. He had placed a glass of water on the night table when he had changed earlier so all he had to do was get the damn cap off the bottle.
"Cheers," he lifted his glass to the no ones in his room and he threw back two pills.
Nick climbed under the covers and shut off the light on the table. His head rejoiced at the reunion with the pillow and he allowed himself to relax. Thoughts wandered here and there in his head now. The pills were beginning to dissolve and take affect. Nick took a deep breath and was ready to sleep.
A sudden image threw itself in the front. It demanded attention. Nick tried to grab a hold of it, but the drug in his blood wouldn't allow it. He struggled away from sleep, but couldn't manage it. Sleep took over as the image of Miguel in the interrogation room flashed by. The boy had had cuts on his legs.
TBC…sleepy Nick, nice image…