A/N: hello peoples! welcome to chapter 4 of my story! thanks a ton to everyone who has reviewed so far; i love checking my email and seeing the subject 'review alert' - one of the best feelings there is! reading them has been a blast, so i hope to see plenty more after this one - read, review, and enjoy:):)

Chapter 4 – Ransom

True to his word, Brass arrived at the lab a few minutes after his call carrying the tower in his arms, a C-D case perched on top. Once the tower had been given to Archie to try and trace the e-mail, the group huddled around another computer, Brass brining over the disk.

"Brace yourselves," he said quietly as he handed the disk to Warrick. "I've already seen it, and it's not pretty." The disk was uploaded and the screen came to life. Brass hadn't been lying. Sara was the only one that found the voice to speak, whispering through the fingers of her hand, which had covered her mouth.

"Oh my God."

The scene opened with the camera trained on Greg whose eyes and contorted face displayed the pain he was in, along with the sound of his shallow breaths and the sweat dripping off of his brow. After a few seconds, the camera zoomed out slightly to that they could see a man dressed in black with a ski mask covering his face standing next to the kneeling CSI.

"Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Sanders. You don't know who I am, but for future purposes, you can call me Forman. Now let's get down to business. As you have noticed, I have your son Greg here with me and he is alive, but a little on the sore side," he said, and with that took the machine gun he was holding and jabbed Greg in his ribs with the force of a light punch. Much to their surprise and anxiousness, a scream of agony resonated from behind the tape over his mouth and his eyes squeezed shut as he nearly keeled over, though Forman prevented that from happening by grabbing a fistful of his hair and holding him up straight. Using the barrel of the gun, he lifted the hem of Greg's T-shirt, causing both Sara and Catherine to wince openly at the sight of the black-purple colour of one side of his ribcage. "Now I'm no doctor, but I'd have to say those look like breaks, and pretty bad ones too." With this, he released Greg's hair and shirt so that he sagged, nearly falling over, as he tried to slow his rapid breathing that did nothing for the pain that he was trying to ignore.

Sara hugged the kit she still held even harder as though hoping that some of the comfort might travel through Greg's kit into him. Hang in there Greg, please, hold on.

"So here's the deal: the wiring of $20 million to the Swiss bank account number 4826323 will buy you back your boy Greg. However, for only $1 million more –" The camera suddenly shifted to the right and the two women gasped, Grissom's face paleing even further as Warrick's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "–I'll throw in the unfortunate friend who was in the wrong car at the wrong time." Nick was a disaster; blood pored from his torn left ear, from an enormous gash all along the front of his left arm, and from his nose, flowing down over the duck tape that covered his mouth. His face was gaunt and pale, no doubt from blood-loss, but despite this and his seeming to have trouble staying upright, anger and defiance radiated from his pained eyes, clearly indicating that despite his injuries, he would gladly take out his captors, if given the opportunity and the means, of which he had neither.

Trembling slightly, Sara hugged the kit tighter still, if it were possible, willing her comfort to apply to Nick as well. "So unless you want to get them both back in pieces, I suggest you comply. Wouldn't you agree Greg?" He jabbed Greg's ribs again, even harder than before, and once more he screamed but this time was unable to hold himself up and crumpled to the floor, curling up into a ball as tears started to pour down his face. Her hand clamped tightly over her mouth, tears stung Sara's eyes and she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders and heard Warrick's voice whispering comfort. Looking beside her, she found Grissom was doing the same for Catherine who was reacting much the same way, though Grissom himself looked like he was going to be sick.

On screen, they heard muffled shouts and the camera zoomed out so that they could also see that another masked captor was holding Nick back as he strained and yelled, glowering at Forman.

"What's wrong Tex? Would you like to add something?" Forman asked tauntingly, grabbing him by his hair and yanking back the tape. Wincing briefly, Nick looked up at the man, speaking in a strained but surprisingly threatening voice.

"Don't you dare touch him again." Forman laughed.

"You're really attached to this kid, aren't you?" he asked, glancing over at Greg who still hadn't been able to pull himself up. "So, what would you do if I did this?" He brought one foot down hard on one of Greg's handcuffed hands so that he cried out again.

Moving too quickly for the one restraining him to act, Nick lunged and pulled Forman's legs out from under him before using his cuffed hands to start punching him everywhere and anywhere, letting his adrenaline and anger take over in the explosion, at this point not caring what happened in consequence. Unfortunately, he was too weak for his hits to do any damage and so all Forman had to do was roll to the side and swing his foot back, nailing Nick in his side to subduethe attackbefore reaching forward and gripping his left arm so that his fingers dug into his open woundso that he screamed. Tears of pain rolled down his face as he finally collapsed down beside Greg who was looking over at him, his eyes wide, pleading, desperately shaking his head.

"You're not worth the million," Forman hissed, staggering to his feet, retrieving a handgun from his pocket and cocking it before pressing its barrel up against Nick's head. They watched, horrified, as Forman started to pull the trigger, but at the last second, Greg used all the strength he could muster and threw himself sideways into Forman's arm, knocking it to the side, so that he was in front of Nick and the bullet embedded itself in the wall behind him. Sara could not help the small whimper that escaped her lips as Greg was backhanded, then the tape on his mouth yanked back. "Is there something you'd like to say to me!" he yelled in his face, now holding the gun to his head instead. Though he was still shaking from the pain in his damaged ribs, Greg's eyes never left Forman's.

"Don't kill him," he pleaded weakly. "I promise, you'll get your million, just please, don't." His voice was barely audible and his breathing painfully quick. Everyone in the room, except for Brass, released the breath they hadn't known they were holding as Forman slowly lowered the gun and looked back up at the camera.

"You hear that mom and dad? I hope for your son's friend's sake that you're generous." He stood up. "And since I know that this'll be seen by the cops and no doubt by their CSI buddies too, I'll leave a message for them while I'm at it: I suggest that you strongly advise the Sanders to pay up, because if they do, and my guys confirm the transfer, then you'll receive notification of a drop-off point to pick these two up without any further trouble. If they don't…" He turned back to the CSI's and brought the butt of his gun down on the side of Greg's head and above Nick's left eye, leaving both unconscious on the floor. "…I will not hesitate to kill them both," he said, and the camera zoomed in on his face. "I'm ready when you are."

And the screen went black.

Sara's legs suddenly could not hold her up any longer, and she fell to her knees and from there to the floor. Warrick knelt down beside her.

"Are you going to be alright?" She looked over at him, tears stinging her usually nonchalant eyes.

"I will be when we get them back alive," she said quietly, and for the first time Warrick noticed that she was holding onto Greg's kit as though her life depended on it.

"How are his parents?" asked Grissom, a tremor passing through his voice as he failed to shut out of his mind the image of Greg and Nick, bleeding and unconscious on the dusty floor of wherever they were being held.

"Mrs. Sanders had to be sedated when I got there and Mr. Sanders is more than willing and ready to wire $21 million to the account." Warrick looked up at him.

"How rich are his parents?"

"I didn't even know until today, but they're somewhere in the billions, from oil or something," responded Brass. Catherine was still staring at the screen, watching the video over and over in her mind's eye.

"So Greg was their target; Nick was just collateral damage," she whispered. Warrick spoke up, if only for the need to foccus on the case aspect of this whole nightmare so that he could keep himself from thinking of just how bad off their two friends were.

"I had Nick's car towed in with Greg's and I found that his car wouldn't start because of old damage build up, so best I can figure is that Greg offered to drive him to the review and the guys were probably waiting in the back seat and figured that they might as well take both of them." He paused, trying to maintain his calm in order to remember and recite his findings. "Also, I found a cell-signal jamming devise just outside the house, explaining why Nick didn't call a toe-truck first. And as for the car fire, it was a simple gasoline blaze, originating from the front seats," he finished, dropping into a seat by the computer. Grissom was mid-way through another sigh when he suddenly straightened.

"Brass, did you get a statement from the officers working perimeter?" Brass nodded.

"Yeah, they were not at the scene during the abduction. When they got back, the car was on fire and they radioed it in."

"But why did they leave in the first place?"

"According to them, another black and white drove up and offered to relieve them for an hour or so."

"Who was it that relieved them?"

"We don't know. The name he gave them was a fake and none of them seem to be able to remember a licence plate or unit number."

"Did the officers talk to a department sketch artist?" Again Brass nodded.

"This is what she came up with," he said, handing him a drawing. "We ran it through law enforcement data-base; no hits." Frowning thoughtfully, Grissom stood and walked over to the scanner, uploading the sketch onto the screen before adjusting the search settings and hitting 'Search'. They were all surprised to hear the beep indicating that a match had been found after only about ten seconds. Looking over at them, he smiled.

"Ex-cops are on a different system."

It had been almost an hour since the ransom taping and around half-an-hour since they had both regained consciousness, Greg being the first to come to.

(Flashback)

When Greg opened his eyes, he momentarily forgot where he was and so lay there, staring up at the ceiling, wondering why he hurt so much. Slowly sitting up, he glanced beside him, what he saw making his heart all but stop and the memories come rushing back: the kidnapping…the van…broken ribs…attic…the ransom video…Nick – his arm, his ear…he was hurt…he tried to protect him but it only made it worse…Oh God, Nick…

He crawled over to him where he lay unmoving, his eyes closed under the nasty bruise that had formed above his left eye. And yet despite his fears, he seemed to be breathing, but his own breaths hitched in his throat non-the less.

"Nick! Nick!" He shook him lightly. Nick's hand moved and he moaned, not opening his eyes.

"I'm so cold," he whispered to nothing, and Greg noticed that his hands had started to shake – Nick was going into shock. He had to push aside his growing panic to keep the tremor out of his voice as he responded.

"Well, you've lost a lot of blood, so that's to be expected," he said as calm and lightly as possible, and scanned the floor for the small piece of Nick's sleeve that he had dropped earlier, picking it up and pressing it to Nick's ear. "Okay, Nick I need you to hold this here with your left shoulder and apply some pressure to stop the bleeding. Can you do that for me?" Nick nodded and did as instructed. Satisfied, Greg proceeded to tear the rest of the left sleeve off at the shoulder before tearing small slits on either side all the way down before folding it in half and placing I over the gash on the front of Nick's arm so that he could tie the opposing strips together at the back of his arm, tight enough so that he wouldn't have to hold it there. His task done, he sat back as Nick now used his hands to hold the cloth to his ear for a minute or two, and was silent for a moment before looking back at Nick, whose eyes had opened slightly, and speaking.

"Thanks Nick, for doing…what you did. You didn't have to, especially since all it did was almost get you killed." He couldn't help the guilt he felt from his friend's current state that filled his concience, and his eyes fell to the floor, the same thought running over and over through his mind:if he had only been able to look after himself better, Nick wouldn't be this way.

Nick looked up at him sharply, but Greg refused to meet his gaze. He couldn't believe what he was hearing and in that tone - the tone thatwas dripping with guilt that shouldn't be there. He shook his head - Greg was one of his closest friends, practically a little brother to him, just the thought of someone hurting him...

"Hey," Nick said, his voice stronger and firmer so that Greg looked up at him. He could see the anger in the Texan's eyes but was surprised to hear the empathy in his voice. "You're wrong, I did have to; as a senior to a rookie, it's my responsibility to look after you. And as your friend, there was no way I could just sit there and let that happen without doing something about it." He managed a weak smile that slowly evaporated back into seriousness. "Greg, as long as we're still here and those guys downstairs are still breathing, I won't let anything happen to you, no matter what – we're going to make it out of this. I promise."

(End of Flashback)

At present, both had chosen to remain lying on their backs on the floor, Greg's head resting on the pillow after much arguing and persuasion from Nick,whose hands had stopped shaking a little, that Greg needed it more. And though he believed otherwise, Greg didn't object to the extra, or rather only comfort. It was then that Nick remembered the question that he had meant to ask when they had first been put up there.

"Hey Greg, what do these guys want with you exactly?" He was surprised at the curt tone of Greg's response.

"How should I know?"

"Well, as far as I remember, when they pulled us out of the van, Forman specifically asked about you and didn't seem to even want me around -and you seemed to know what they were talking about before." Nick looked over at him. "They're getting a $20 million ransom for you Greggo; you've got to be pretty important to somebody, but I didn't catch who." Greg shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact and further peaking Nick's curiosity in the process.

"My parents are billionaires," he said finally, sounding embarrassed. Nick raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"How come we never heard anything about it?" he questioned.

"By 'we' I assume you mean the team?" He scoffed. "Do you think that if you guys knew how rich my parents were, you wouldn't just assume that it was only daddy's deep pockets that made me a CSI?"

"Well, only if we didn't know you personally," he pointed out with a grin. Greg smiled in return, grateful more now than ever that he had Nick as a friend.

"Thanks."

"Hey, I only speak the truth bro."

Greg's smile would've lasted longer had the trapdoor not swung open and the three kidnappers not reappeared at the top of the ladder. The two of them sat up off of the floor and after a few seconds, Greg found himself once more looking at their captives from over Nick's tensed shoulder, but found himself without a voice to tell him not to do anything this time, for his sake.

Forman was the only one to break the sudden silence.

"Sorry to interrupt boys, but we're still $21 million short in our savings account. It's time for a reminder."

A/N: there you have it, chapter 4! i hope you liked it! review please, cause chapter 5 is ready and waiting to go on:):)