Chapter Sixteen
"How did it all come to this?" Gil whispered.
Brass remained silent. He knew Grissom wasn't really expecting an answer - a thing for which he was immensely grateful because he had no answer to give. Brass knew that no answer would satisfy him either. To say he was concerned about the scientist would be an understatement. He'd never seen Grissom so utterly lost. It was hard enough to deal with his own emotions right now, but to see Grissom sitting on that crate like that just added to the sorrow he was feeling. The usually emotionless man was wearing his heart on his sleeve and Brass could hardly bear to look at him.
More than anything, Brass knew that Grissom was upset about Nick and the way he had been treating him for the past month. It had been obvious that things were not right between them, but Brass had not felt that it was his place to say anything. He regretted that decision now. Perhaps if he'd voiced his concerns to Grissom, things would be different. But it was futile to engage in such thoughts at this point. The past could not be changed and all he could do now was wait and see what the future brought.
"I left him in there, Jim. I left him behind. Why did I do that? He's my guy, my responsibility, and I left him behind." Grissom's voice was quiet and expressionless as he shook his head in confusion.
Brass shook his head in disagreement. When he had arrived on the scene, a fireman had explained what had happened based on what he had gathered from Grissom. The scientist was being too hard on himself and Jim wasn't going to let him do it.
"You didn't leave Nick on purpose. You thought he was right behind you and it's not like you turned and ran out of that building with no thought except saving your own skin. You were helping Donna and Allison like you were supposed to. You were making sure they got out of that fire alive. They wouldn't have made it out without you. You saved their lives." Brass tried to offer the man some encouragement.
Grissom would not be appeased. "I made a mess of everything. This is all my fault. I never got to explain things to him and tell him that I'm sorry. Now it's all too late."
"Hey, don't say that. Nick's gonna be fine. You'll see." the detective tried to sound more confident than he felt. Truth was he was scared that it was too late. If those firemen didn't find Nick soon, there would be nothing left to find.
"Why is it so hard to tell some people what you're feeling? Why is it so hard to understand your own emotions?" Gil asked breathlessly. He stared hard at his hands as if expecting to find the answers to his questions written on them.
"Hey pal, you're asking the wrong guy. If I knew the answer to that, I probably wouldn't be divorced." Brass smiled wistfully.
"I'm serious, Jim." The CSI finally turned to look at his friend. "Why is it so hard for me to tell Nick what I'm really feeling? Why is it so hard for me to tell him anything?"
The scientist looked away and shook his head sadly. "We're so different. Like night and day. Maybe that's the problem."
"I think you're more alike than you realize and I think he knew how you felt." Jim answered seriously.
"How could he? I made his life a living hell for the past month and refused to listen to him. I gave him no respect and continually illustrated to him just how little faith I had in him and his abilities." Grissom looked away again, overcome with shame as he remembered some of the terrible words he had said to Nick.
"You may not be good at expressing yourself verbally, Gil, but your actions spoke volumes. You busted your tail to find him and when you did, you put yourself at personal risk to help him. Trust me. In the end, Nick knew." Brass placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. "And in case he didn't get it, you'll have the chance to tell him soon."
Gil shook his head in uncertainty and his mind searched for a way to change to subject. He suddenly was struck by the presence of Jim Brass and the firemen. When he was in shock, he hadn't really asked why they were there at all. He had just taken their presence for granted. But now that he was starting to think a bit more clearly, he wondered who had called them. He certainly hadn't called for backup. That was just another illustration of how he had royally screwed up.
"How did you even know I was here? I didn't call for backup." Grissom asked, unable to keep the guilt out of his voice.
Brass politely overlooked it though as he knew Grissom couldn't handle any more blame being dumped on him right now. "Catherine told me to get down here. She was worried about you and wanted me to back you up. So I got in my car and came over here. I arrived here when the bomb went off so I called the firemen and then requested more backup as I wasn't sure what was going on here."
Grissom nodded. Good work, Catherine. Just another example of her cooler head prevailing over his. Of course she would have had the sense to call Brass. After all, she wasn't the one running around half-cocked like some madman. She wasn't the one who had verbally assaulted her coworker. She was the one who had tried to prevent him from falling into folly on more than one occasion recently. He really ought to start paying more attention to what she said. She was a smart woman.
"Did anyone else get out alive?" Grissom inquired. That was yet another question that he hadn't asked. Up until Nick went missing, he had been plagued by the thought of seven people dying, and then when Nick was gone, he had been plagued by the thought of Nick dying and had shifted those seven people to the back burner of his concern. When the bomb went off though, Grissom suddenly had realized that anyone, whether victim or suspect, would be considered lucky to get out alive.
Brass sighed. "Just before the cavalry arrived, a few people came running out of the blaze. Despite being covered with soot, I recognized them as some of our suspects. I ordered them to get on the ground and they complied, which was no shock given their current physical state. They were coughing up a storm and exhausted. Running for your life will do that. I had my guys book them when they showed up."
Brass reached inside the pocket of his coat and pulled out his notepad. He read off the names. "We arrested Rae Lynn Michaels, Denise Dayton, and Quentin Bowlin."
"That's only three people. There were twenty inside counting me. I got out with Donna and Allison. You're telling me that only six of us made it out alive?" Grissom asked astonished. He could hardly believe it.
"Six as of right now. The number is going to go up once they pull Nick and Matthew Alcott out." Brass tried with difficulty to inject some confidence into his statement. With every passing minute, his hope of finding Nick and that little boy alive was chipped away.
Grissom looked at the detective, his eyes filled with despair. "Do you really believe that?"
Brass smiled through the lie. "Of course I do. I'm never wrong about these types of things."
As if on cue, the firemen behind them began to shout. This shouting was different from what had been going on all this time. Now, one of them was shouting for an ambulance. Grissom and Brass perked up at this and turned to look behind them. They could see one fireman rushing out of the burning building with a small figure cradled in his arms.
'Matthew.' Grissom thought, his heart pounding. If they found Matthew, where was Nick? There was no way Nick had left Matthew alone. He had to have been nearby so where was he?
"Gil, look." Brass was on his feet, pointing in the direction of two firemen emerging from the blaze. They were supporting a limp figure between them, half carrying and half dragging him.
Suddenly, the man who had been rendered practically motionless for the past few minutes was on his feet, running towards the building as fast as his feet could carry him. He pushed his way past a group of firemen. They threw up their arms to try and stop him, but he shouted, "Get out of my way! That's my guy!"
Grissom was breathless when he reached the firemen holding Nick. They carefully laid the CSI on the ground and Grissom kneeled at his side.
"Is he okay?" he panted, staring intently into Nick's pale and dirty face. He barely registered Brass' presence at his side.
"He's inhaled a lot of carbon monoxide and he's appeared to have lost quite a bit of blood. He needs medical attention." A fireman pointed towards the nasty wound in Nick's gut, which was still bleeding freely.
Immediately, Grissom pressed his hand to the wound in order to stem the flow of blood. The pressure of his hand caused Nick to cry out loudly in pain, his eyes squeezed shut tightly, but Grissom did not remove his hand.
"This is a gunshot wound." Grissom said to no one in particular, not taking his eyes off Nick. What had happened? When he'd seen Nick last, he was a little bruised and banged up but fine otherwise. What other tragedy had befallen his CSI while his back was turned? Once again, feelings of failure resurfaced and threatened to overtake him. He had failed Nick. Again.
"Who shot him?" The entomologist allowed his eyes to briefly connect with the fireman's before he returned his focus to Nick.
"Dunno. Just found him that way. He was doing his best to get that little boy out of the fire, but he was really struggling. Poor guy didn't have a lot of strength and had just collapsed seconds before we reached him. He's quite a fighter." The fireman smiled in admiration.
"Yes he is." Grissom agreed.
As the blood seeped through his fingers, all Grissom could think about was how Nick's life could be pouring out of him right now and he had not been able to say any of the things he had been longing to say. Life was so wretchedly unfair at times. He had found Prosper's hideout. He had found Nick alive and well. For one brief moment, Grissom had believed that everything was going to be okay. Then it had all gone to hell.
'Where is that ambulance?' Grissom thought angrily to himself. He leaned forward and patted Nick's soot-covered cheek with a bloodstained hand in an effort to revive him. "Nick! Can you hear me?"
Nick's eyes flew open and the pain reflected in those brown eyes made Grissom wince. He knew that Nick must be in an incredible amount of pain. Nick seemed disoriented and his eyes darted around in confusion, but then they landed on Grissom. He held up his hand which Grissom immediately grasped with his free hand and held tightly.
"Nick, you're gonna be okay. The ambulance is coming." Grissom trying to offer what he prayed was not a false hope.
Nick did not seem to hear him though. He suddenly became agitated, his eyes searching for something. He tried to speak, but just ended up in a fit of coughing and clutching at his stomach with his other hand.
Understanding his concern, Grissom said, "Nick, Matthew's okay. The firemen pulled him out. You saved him. It's okay."
At these words, the tension in Nick's face eased slightly. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, though he did not loosen his hold on Grissom's hand. Unwilling to move, Grissom sat by his side until the ambulance pulled up next to them. The EMTs came pouring out the back door and pushed Grissom to the side so they could begin to work on Nick. Then they loaded him onto the stretcher and into the ambulance.
As Grissom watched it drive away, he knew that he could have demanded to ride along. He could have refused to leave Nick's side and forced them to take him as well. But the truth was that he had been half afraid that they would have agreed to his request and he couldn't bear the thought of sitting in that ambulance while the EMTs worked frantically to save the life of his CSI. It was horrible enough that his own hands were stained with Nick's blood. Having to watch as they poked and prodded Nick in addition to seeing him covered in blood was something that he wasn't sure he could take.
Grissom stared down at his blood-covered hands and wondered if he would ever be able to look at his hands again without seeing them covered in Nick's blood. If Nick died, he knew that answer was no. Grissom watched as the ambulance turned the corner and disappeared, intensely aware that Nick's life was not the only one hanging in the balance.