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: Well, I want to get this thing completely posted before I take off for a week of vacation so I guess this is good news for all of you. In order to do this, I need to post every other day! I know, what am I thinking! I know you all love the suspense of holding off for a few days between chapters. So, lets get going and see what happens with all the guys in this super long chapter. And, oh yeah, for those who wanted Grissom to learn about what Ecklie did, read on! Thanks for all the reviews and I hope this doesn't disappoint. And, due to the schedule, see you all on Thurs! Bye!
Title: Poisonous Fear
By: duffshel
#18
Grissom pulled on his coat with a heavy sigh. After he got back with those two, every one of his CSI's was going to be locked up with him having the only key. He tried his hardest to ignore the holes Catherine was piercing into his back as he got ready to leave. The call from Charlie Johnson was only four minutes ago, but he was on a time limit. He had sixteen more minutes to go.
Fantasy Park was over on Washington so it wouldn't take too much time to get to the sight. Grissom had driven past the mini desert in the middle of the city before and was always intrigued by the property. It was nothing more than a bunch of trees and shrubs locked up behind a chain link fence. There were gates to enter, but the CSI had never seen anyone within the park before. He kept meaning to go one day on his own.
The weight of his keys in his hand felt good and helped to ground him to the situation. He turned from his locker with a flick of his wrist. Catherine didn't even blink at the slam of metal on metal. Her eyes were intense, but she kept her words to herself. Grissom nodded his head and left the locker room.
Greg Sanders was leaning against the wall outside the doorway. His gaze was downward, but his entire posture was screaming for some kind of attention from Grissom. The older man didn't know what to say or do to ease this any for the other man. Grissom looked straight ahead and walked right past the former lab technician without a word. He was going to do this without any words with anyone.
But, like most things, nothing worked out for Grissom like he planned. Conrad Ecklie always knew how to get in the way of everything, no matter how important. The lab director stared him in the eye and effectively blocked his path.
"And where do you think you are going? As far as I know, you don't have your case finished yet."
"If you would check your messages, you would know there has been a change in the case."
"That would be?"
Grissom clenched his jaw, "Warrick and Nick are missing. They were taken from Nick's house and I just received a call to go alone to find them."
"Does that seem wise?" Ecklie raised an eyebrow.
"To get my guys back, yeah. It is the wisest thing I can think of right now. What are you going to do? Have you checked into any unusual activity lately? Someone knew where to get them."
Ecklie went completely silent. A frown erupted on his brow and his lower lip was worried between his teeth. He suddenly remembered that woman, the one from the mayor's office. From what he learned, she had only look at a few files.
"There was a woman. She said she was with the mayor's office and that she had to look through our files. I gave her full access so that she could get down and leave."
"Did you call and check on this?"
"No."
Grissom blew, eyes bright with rage, "You let a woman come in without knowing who she is or who she is working for! And you allow her to access private files! Now Nick and Warrick are missing, possibly dead! If anything happens to either of them, you are going to have to deal with me."
"That is uncalled for. You cannot talk to me like that," Ecklie stood to his full height and puffed out his chest a little.
"I can talk to you any way I like. You gave them to whoever these people are. You signed their death certificates. Be prepared for the consequences," Grissom growled before he turned his back to the director.
The early afternoon sun was harsh on his skin. Sweat began to bead up on his forehead and his upper lip. Grissom resisted the urge to roll both lips together. His SUV waited in his normal spot right in front of the lab. He pulled himself into the seat and started up the ignition.
The drive was easy going, but Grissom still held the steering wheel in a death grip. Images were running through his head and he didn't like any of them. The parking lot of the half mile park was deserted as Grissom pulled his black truck onto the barely lighted concrete. His instructions were to park in the spot directly by the tree leaning against the fence. It wasn't a hard spot to find.
Some shade wafted over the vehicle, but Grissom still kept the air running on high. A quick glance at his watch proved to show he was two minutes early. There were no other instructions at this stage so Grissom rested on hand on the gun he strapped to his hip and the other on his cell phone. He was not going down without some sort of fight if it came to it.
A clunk against the entrance drive to the parking lot attracted Grissom's attention. There was a large, brown conversion van pulling up next to him. No one was in the passenger seat and the driver's face was hidden from view by a thick, black cloak. The sliding door was opened. Two more people were in the back, also cloaked.
Grissom turned off the engine and slowly opened his door to get out. As soon as the door unhinged, both people were out of the van and grabbing his arms. The CSI pulled at their hold, but the hands were tight.
"Where are my guys?"
One of the hooded figures raised their head enough that they were probably looking Grissom in the eyes, "You will know soon enough."
It was a deep tenor. These were both men holding him. One hand released from his wrist and reached down to grope at his hips. His gun was removed and handed off to the driver.
"Is that it?"
"Yes," Grissom nodded.
"Alright. Put your phone and keys on the seat. Lock the doors and shut it up. You are coming with us."
Grissom complied with their orders and didn't pull away when they began to move him into the back seat of the van. He was forced to sit between the two figures as the van pulled away from the safely of his truck and cell phone.
The windows in the van were covered by a thick curtain leaving only the windshield and rear window open to view out of. Many of the buildings were ones Grissom never had seen before and he didn't get any clear shots at street signs. As the van began to slow, one of the men leaned over close enough the hood brushed his cheek.
"Get your head between your knees."
The CSI turned a confused expression towards the man, but didn't have much of a chance to ask about it. A hand grabbed the back of his neck from behind and jerked his body forward. The momentum was almost enough to throw him from the seat to the floor. Speed was picked up a little now that he couldn't see anything any more.
Blood rushed to his ears and Grissom began to feel a little car sick. He had never been forced to sit like this in a car before and it was not a new experience his body liked. Just as he was about to force himself upward, the van pulled into a rocky road or driveway judging by the new tossing. The brakes squealed in protest as it was parked and the engine was killed.
The hand still rested on the back of his neck and his skin began to crawl. A loud thud sounded as the sliding door was thrown open with little ceremony. The man to his right leaned out of the van, but quickly reached back in to grab Grissom's wrists. His head went up, against the other hand. No one seemed concerned that he could see his surroundings again. But, regretfully, he didn't recognize a thing.
They were parked behind a fairly old building that had a back entrance way and wooden doors leading down in to what was probably a cellar. There were many trees and bushes, nothing that clicked in his mind as to their location. Grissom watched as the driver of the van walked to those wooden doors and slammed his foot down on top of them for two hits.
"Anyone follow us?" the last cloaked man asked as he walked up to stand behind Grissom.
"Nah, nothing. I watched all the cars and nothing stayed with us long. Plus, with the short drive, it would've been hard to miss."
Grissom held his tongue. He jumped slightly when one of the doors by his feet swung back to reveal yet another cloaked figure. It was clear he would learn no faces yet. Hands were on his body again as he was propelled forward.
Stairs lead downward and from the look of them, they were not used often. There wasn't much light so Grissom took his time in getting his footing before he moved to a new step. None of his capturers seemed interested in making him move any faster anyways. All were taking it easy since a fall on these cement steps could likely mean death.
It was thirteen steps before they were brought up against another door. Whoever had allowed them access to the stairs was now standing in front of these doors as well. This person was shorter than the others and appeared to be much frailer. A small, delicate hand reaching for the door knob convinced Grissom this new cloak was a woman.
"Get inside. And you don't have permission to speak."
Grissom allowed them to lead him inside the dark room. It smelled of sweat and blood. Pain and fear. His pupils took a moment to adjust to the thickness of the room. He looked purposely around, trying to find any distinctive detail that might give some sort of location. But he was stopped up short.
Tied up and, now, gagged were his two missing CSI's. Warrick was struggling against his ropes and attempting to make speech around the cloth in his mouth. And Nick was simply sitting still, jaw tight. Between the two men was a young boy of Hispanic origin, but Grissom didn't know who he was.
"Why are they here? What's going on?"
Several people moved and a new figure walked forward. This man Grissom knew, "Mr. Tenner?"
"That would be correct. Welcome. I promise all your answers will be found once we begin. Please, take a seat," the elderly man waved his hand towards a single chair situated in front of his two CSI's.
Grissom looked skeptically at the chair offered to him. No way could he trust these people. His entire posture remained tense, feet locked in place. The older man in front of him smiled brightly. Grissom couldn't believe someone could smile like that in this situation.
"Very well, Doctor Grissom. You may not wish to follow my instructions, but I must warn you now, this will not play out nicely. After all, I asked politely."
Once the words were finished, three cloaked figures moved to stand in front of the three captives in their own chairs. It was the one in front of Warrick that reacted first. A black hand shot out from underneath the cloth and backhanded the tall CSI across the left cheek.
Warrick groaned at the impact, but it really wasn't anything too impressive. He was still in too much shock from seeing Grissom being dragged down into their new living hell. From the curses mumbled by Nick, his partner had similar thoughts to what he did. Only Miguel didn't get what was going on.
Mr. Tenner was watching Grissom closely to gauge his reaction to the mistreatment. It was disappointing to not even see a flinch. Things would need to go up a notch. He waved his hand to signal the next person. The slap against little Miguel's face was music to his ears. But the other man standing next to him didn't seem to enjoy any of it. It was sad.
"Still not going to sit?"
He was split in half. Grissom wanted to sit and end this pointless torture of his team and the boy, but he also knew it was as good as done as soon as his pants hit the seat of the chair. There was another wave from Tenner and, as expected, the man in front of Nick moved. This one was a little more ambitious. A closed fist connected hard with the already black mess on Nick's face.
Pain radiated through the Texan's face at the slam. A voice in the back of his was laughing at him and the luck he had to get the one asshole with an iron fist. It was disgustingly predictable. And the worst thing, it was enough to get Grissom into the chair.
"I am glad you finally decided to comply. Things will go so much smoother if you do as you are told. You are all going to learn a great deal about yourselves and each other in these hours we spend together."
There was loud shuffling in the room as everyone still on their feet took a seat. Grissom watched and quickly took a head count. There were seven people in this room besides him, Warrick, Nick, and Miguel. He watched with sharp eyes as Tenner walked over to Nick and grabbed his chin.
Nick tried to pull away from the hand, but it was tight and there were a few nails that dug into his skin. His head was pulled up so the elderly man could look at the damage his man had done. The eyes raked the tender flesh, a finger dragged softly across it. A chill ran straight up Nick's spine into the back of his head. His body was going cold.
"You do seem to bruise fairly easy. I wish to see exactly how easily."
Nick focused his eyes long enough to shot a glare at the older man, "You're making a mistake."
Tenner chuckled and lightly tapped the bruised cheek, "I think not…Nicky? Isn't that what they call you in times of sadness or joy? I noticed it was marked a few times in your file."
The CSI ripped his head away from the hand and focused on the ground. He could feel Warrick's concerned expression resting on him, but he didn't want to risk looking for him. This man knew things about him that only his closest friends should only know it seemed. Things that were supposed to be safe in that damn file. It was beyond unnerving.
"Well, enough of the games. I am ready to begin. Shaun, will you come here?"
Grissom torn his gaze from Nick long enough to see which of the cloaks answered the call. It was the man still standing close to Warrick, the one that had hit the CSI, that walked over to Tenner's side. This man was tall. He seemed to almost tower over Tenner, but from his posture, it was clear he was taking the orders.
"Would you please grab my briefcase for me. I left it besides the door. And have the boy removed."
Shaun walked swiftly and returned with the black bag in his right hand. He placed it carefully on the small pedestal that Grissom had missed earlier. It was a dark wood and it blended easily with the décor of the rest of the room. Now that he knew it was there, it was easy to pick out.
Another figure came forward and released the ropes from around Miguel's wrists. The boy looked terrified and tried to fight. The man was too large and the poor boy lost the batter. Grissom watched as he was taken through the door they had brought him in through. None of them wanted to guess the boy's fate.
The elderly man removed a key from a pocket under his cloak and inserted it into the small lock. A quick flick of his wrist and the top popped open. There was nothing inside, but a bunch of papers. Warrick craned his neck to try for a better view, but his angle was not the greatest. From the look on Nick's face, he was pretty much in the same boat.
Tenner grabbed up three different papers, all different colors. Warrick had seen his personal file and never remembered the different colors. It must have been something new with whatever Tenner had done. His smile grew at whatever it was he was reading. Warrick really didn't like the look of that smile.
"It seems that I have enough on each of you to last awhile," Tenner ran a finger across his chin, "Like this for example. It seems that someone decided to stalk you Nick. He lived in your attic and watched everything you did. Then, he killed a man by throwing him into the living room. Held a gun in your face and then tried to kill himself with it. Interesting. That man would have been welcome here."
Nick's face drained of all color as the words tumbled out. Everyone in the room was listening closely to what their leader was saying. Strangers were learning things about his personal life, again. He pressed his lips together to stop any comments from slipping out and embarrassing him any further.
"I would have to say, that must make you quite uncomfortable around people you don't know. And it says you were reluctant to get any extra help from anyone. Don't like to share your problems with others it would seem. No one to share your pain with you, see your pain. I can teach you through that."
Warrick growled as he watched his partner turn slightly green, "Leave him the fuck alone!"
"And you Warrick Brown," Tenner pivoted his body so he was now facing the tall CSI, "You have issues turning off the guilt and blame yourself for many things. Many things that happen to our Nick here. And you are afraid to put yourself out there for someone completely. Afraid to hurt them, yourself."
"He is not your Nick. We are not your puppets!"
"I beg to differ. You see, we have many gods, but two are the most important to us. There are two things that can bring any being down, no matter who they are. All you need to do is find a way in and then you can do whatever you want to anyone. The Greeks were the first to give official names to these powerful Gods. Many of the religions before then focused on the idea of fear and panic being emotions that only a human could control. It was the Greeks that knew better. Fear and panic could be caused by the simple playing of the great Deimos and Phobos.
And we are going to use their teachings and powers to reach inside the three of you. Outsiders are always harder to work with, but it is possible. It worked well with the White's after all. Fear and Panic will enjoy devouring the three of you."
Grissom sat straighter, "But you would know then that these two gods were not considered anything important, not as you make them out to be."
"What!"
"Neither of these beings was accepted on Mount Olympus. In fact, it was said they were banished to work with Zeus' brother, Ares. After all, they were his sons through his relationship with his half-sister, Aphrodite. They pulled him into battles and fought under his name, not their own."
Tenner's face turned red throughout Grissom's passage. He was angry that someone would have the nerve to attack his gods with such false words, "They had more power than the rest of those o-called gods. No one wanted to admit to it so they gave more focus on that whore love goddess or the disgraceful sun god. Death welcomed both Phobos and Deimos into his world through War."
"As did he welcome light," Nick lifted his head, "Hades fell in love with Demeter's daughter, Persephone. He made a deal to keep her for half the year, when the world died and became brown. It was the reason given for winter. Demeter was so devastated at the loss of her daughter, she let the world slowly die until her kin was released from Death. He understood that Pain and Fear needed to be balanced. This allowed people to be able to overcome and move on."
Warrick was confused. He knew Greek mythology and had heard about these two gods, but he had never heard of anyone bracing them so tightly. These were not gods for the modern age. All he knew was this guy was insane and no matter what excuse he said, he was going to need to be arrested and soon.
"You simply do not understand. By the end of all this, you all will. There will be no sunshine waiting for you. No sunshine when you're gone. Death will be open armed most likely. His friends will see to it."
Grissom could tell by the other man's posture that they had made him extremely angry. The lead CSI had learned over the years that it was not safe to play with someone's beliefs, especially when they were at this level. Tenner held his beliefs close to his heart and didn't know anything else. No one would be let off lightly for such harsh words.
"I am going to show you what your greatest fears can do to you. They are going to take you apart and you will beg for death before we are done. We have done it with all the others. None of you are going to be able to fight your way out of this," Tenner snarled as he stalked over to another bag resting against the wall.
Shaun and another figure moved forward and grabbed Grissom by his shoulders. He was forced from the chair and held in place as it was moved. A third person placed it right in front of where Warrick was sitting. Grissom didn't try to fight as he was pushed back into it. Rope was looped around his wrists and was pulled tight.
The tall CSI located Grissom's gaze and asked with his eyes what he should be doing. Warrick was not impressed by the look he got back in response. He always wished Grissom would get more emotional and hot headed in these kinds of situations. It wouldn't make his reactions seem so out of place then.
Tenner once again approached Nick. He couldn't understand it, but he was being drawn to this younger man. It had only happened once before in his life and that hadn't turned out well for that other man in that situation. Something about this CSI screamed for attention from his gods. They wanted his blood. His panic. His fear.
"You have quite a past Nick. Guns, stalkers, pain. Your fear was not quite as apparent as most. No dogs or yellow paint in your tells. No, you have something more. Your fear is simply that you fear."
Nick pulled away from the hand that forever seemed to be hovering around his face. He was confused by what Tenner was rambling on about. "There is nothing to fear, but fear itself. Everyone knows something along that line."
"Ah, but you don't fear simple fear. It is your own. You do not wish to show emotion too deeply, don't want to rely on others. But most of all, weakness is something you dread. Your fear is showing fear."
Warrick was sick of this, "You are full of shit man. You might as well give it up."
"But I know how to get your fear as well," Tenner smirked as he again grabbed Nick's chin in his hand, "You are responsible for his broken arm, no? You hold guilt close and don't let it go. It is written all over your report about the incident outside the hot tub. You fear causing others pain or hurt as I said before. Especially this brother of yours."
His chin was caught in a surprisingly tight grip so Nick could only move his eyes to focus on Warrick. Nick almost smiled at the expression that Warrick had. The friends he had. The fingers dug into his jaw bone more and he was forced to look back at Tenner.
"Mike, would you please release Warrick and bring him over to me."
A short, sturdy figure stood from a chair in the back. This man looked like a brick wall with the black cloak on. Warrick crinkled his nose when he felt the hands brush across his skin as the ropes were loosened and taken off. He didn't have much more time for thought as he was pulled upright to his feet.
"Move!"
Warrick tried to struggle, but he knew there was little he could do being the only one free. And Tenner still had his hands on his partner. Mike forced him to stand almost on top of the shorter, older man. Warrick looked down into Nick's eyes and saw the same uncertainty he was sure he had on his face.
"Now, I want you to hit him."
This announcement caught Warrick's full attention and forced his eyes to widen more than was probably healthy. Nick's face drained of all color right before his eyes. He vaguely heard the protests of Grissom off to his side. This was too odd for him at this moment.
"What!"
Tenner smiled and released Nick' face, "I want you to hit him. And no babying him. I want you to mean it. Hit him like I am sure you want to hit me."
"No!"
"You don't, and something worst will happen. His death can come at any point. Nick will die, it is up to you whether it is right now or later."
Warrick shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest tightly. He was not going to hit Nick. Nothing could make him lift a hand against his brother. They would have to shoot him first.
Movement out of the corner of his eyes drew his attention to where Shaun and his buddy moved to. They held something. Warrick couldn't make it out. But Grissom could.
"Warrick…" it was almost whispered.
It happened quickly and Nick barely had time to breath. The riding crop lashed into the skin of his cheek. Nick's head recoiled from the impact, but it was the rush of air from his lungs that hurt the most. His mouth opened in order to suck in the precious gases, but another hit to the back of his skull took the skill away from his momentarily.
Warrick made to jump forward to attack Shaun, but Mike and the other figure quickly grabbed him by the arms and held him still. The second hit made him see red and he almost broke free from their grasps. But these men were big and strong. They were not going to stop fighting.
"Leave them alone!" Grissom's words floated over the scene.
Tenner threw his hand up, "Enough. Now Warrick, are you going to take action and follow my instructions or should I simply allow Shaun to continue?"
The grips on Warrick's arms slackened a little, but not enough for him to pull free. Both men would grab him tight again if he tried to do anything other than listen to the demented old man. He could hear the groans of pain that Nick was emitting. His partner slowly lifted his face and Warrick was able to see the red blotch now standing out amidst the blues and blacks. Warrick found the Texan's eyes and immediately regretted it.
"No," Warrick stated deeply.
Nick shook his head, no more than a simple jerk to each side, "Just do it man. Get the shit over with."
The taller CSI looked over to Grissom for a look of wisdom. He didn't know what to do in this situation and hoped the other man did. The look of pain and worry was out of place on Grissom's face. It was almost too scary in this situation. Warrick had to look away.
But his eyes now took in the sardonic smile of Jacob Tenner. His fists involuntarily clenched into fists, thumbs tucked under his fingers. This was only the beginning of this torment, but Warrick knew now he was not going to make it through it. Whatever was going to happen in the near future was going to be enough to end him. And possible make him take Nick out as well.
"I'm sorry," Warrick choked out around his heart in his throat.
Nick nodded and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see his friend's eyes as he was forced to hit him. And he was sure Warrick didn't want to see his either. Enough pain would be clear enough through the lines of his mouth and forehead.
"Do it," Tenner rubbed his hands together, "And remember, no faking it."
Warrick spared one more glance to Grissom before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It felt as it something was squeezing his lungs together and his chest hurt. He opened his eyes and took in the waiting face in front of him. His left hand clenched tighter as he judged the best way to do this. There was no best way.
He pulled his fist back and tried to aim the best he could for the fleshiest part of Nick's cheek. His aim was thrown off by the pained moan his body couldn't stop from making. The bones in his knuckles cracked hard in the slam with Nick's cheek bone. Warrick pulled away quickly, but the force had been enough to shot Nick's head backwards to the point it almost hit the back of the chair.
Horrified, Warrick made to back away, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him, "Do it again."
Nick shook his head to clear out the stars dancing in front of his eyes. Pain shot through his entire eye socket. Warrick sure had a mean punch. He couldn't hear over the humming in his ears. Nick wasn't ready for the next hit.
"Do it again!"
Warrick jumped at the repeated demand and without thinking, sent his other fist flying. It impacted with hard bone and soft flesh. Whispers filled his ears. Warm breath brushed his neck as the black ghosts flittered around him. Chills ran up and down his spine. He couldn't get away from this. It ate away at his flesh, his being.
"That's it! Do it again! Again!" a shrill voice screamed out.
"Yeah, make him pay!"
Tenner roared, "Hit him!"
Laughter filled the room behind him. Grissom was calling for this to end. Rage soared through his body. Warrick couldn't get the red out of his vision. Someone needed to pain for what was happening to him. These people were messing with him friends. Whispers filled his ears once again. They were calling for pain. They wanted a show. His brain lost all logic as the words filled it. His blood boiled.
And his fists demanded punishment. They flew on their own accord now. He didn't register the wetness slowly covering his fingers or the cries of pain. The needle prick in his neck was nothing more than a mosquito bite through his rage.
TBC…
Additional Note: I am sorry if any thing in this chapter insulted anyone. This is fiction and none of it is meant to be taken to heart. If you are bothered by this religion/cult, please accept my apologies. And to those of you who know Greek/Roman mythology, this is just one of the many stories about these two Greek gods. Worked the best with the story. Thanks!