A/N: The usual disclaimer. See Chapter one for more. Oh, by the way (forgot to mention), this is also rated for swearing.

Chapter 2- My Eyes Burn

"My eyes burn from these tears

You'd think you'd learn over these years

Good things don't last forever

So what the hell am I supposed to do?

You only wanted the things I couldn't give to you

And you had it all anyway

So take take everything

And leave me scrambling

Reaching for something that wasn't there in the first place"

My Eyes Burn by Matchbook Romance

Grissom, Sara and Catherine sat silently at the table in the meeting room, staring at the phone in the center of the table as if willing it to ring. Warrick sat staring at the ceiling, his chair tipped onto its back two legs. Nick paced still, prowling around the room nervously, glancing at the clock every few seconds. The silence was broken by the sudden ringing of the telephone. Grissom shared a dark look with Catherine and then pushed the speaker-phone button. "Grissom."

Greg's voice echoed from the speaker, his panic magnified by the volume. "Griss, it's me."

Grissom sighed in relief, then asked, "Greg, how are you? Where are you?"

"There's no time for that," cut off Greg. "Listen, don't do what she tells you! Don't give into her demands! Don't-" A gunshot echoed over the phone, followed closely by Greg's cry of pain. Sara gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Nick swore and bit his knuckle, trying to stop himself from punching a wall. Warrick returned the chair to all four legs with a loud clang and swore as well. Catherine closed her eyes in an effort to not cry and remain calm.

"Greg?" called Grissom, panic edging into his voice. "Greg!"

"Mr. Grissom," Sandra's oily voice cut across Grissom's shouts. "How are you this fine evening?"

Grissom's face turned dark with rage. "What did you do to Greg?"

"Greg will be fine. I shot him in the arm. I told him I would if he said anything I didn't want him to."

The calm in her voice infuriated Nick. He snarled, "What do you want from him? What did he do to you?"

"Why, he didn't do anything to me. It's always the innocent who suffer, isn't it? And as for what I want from him..." She let out a soft laugh. "Well, he is a finely built young man. I'm sure I could have some fun with him." Her voice practically purred the last part.

"Oh, God," murmured Sara, looking like she was going to be ill.

"And," continued Sandra, "I'm sure Bruno here would also enjoy using Mr. Sanders for pleasure."

"Goddamn son of a..." growled Nick.

"Temper, temper," she mocked. "Now, before one of you flies off the handle...let's get to my demands."

"Let me guess," said Warrick sarcastically. "You want money. Or you want us to free your father."

"My father?" Her voice turned icy. "Why would I want to let that bastard loose?"

"Then it is the money?" asked Grissom.

"No, it is about my father. I don't want to set him free, though; I want to kill him."

Grissom raised his eyebrows in shock. "You want to kill him?"

"Yes, Mr. Grissom. I want to look my father in his eyes and watch as he dies. I want to have the same power over him that he had over me when he raped and molested me for ten years. I want him to know what it means to be completely helpless."

Silence lapsed as Grissom checked the file. "But your father was extradited to Illinois since majority of the crimes took place there."

"I know. And when the goddamn governor ended his term, he took him off Death Row. I want him to die."

"But..." interjected Grissom.

"Mr. Grissom," interrupted Sandra, "I am a reasonable woman. I, therefore, will give you seventy-two hours, starting at noon today, to make the arrangements."

"What about Greg?" called Nick before he could stop himself.

"If you recall, I am a registered nurse," said Sandra. "I'll take care of him. Remember, seventy-two hours. Goodbye."

The phone clicked off. "What're we gonna do?" whispered Sara despairingly.

Grissom stood. "We're going to find him. Cath, make some fliers and send them to the airport and bus stations. Warrick, fill Brass in on the phone call. Sara, process the entrance where Greg was taken at; it's now a crime scene. Nick, come with me." Nick followed Grissom to his office. "Sit down," commanded Grissom.

"Gil, what is it?" asked Nick, brow furrowed in confusion.

Grissom sighed and said, "Nick, you're off this case."

"Wha...what?" sputtered Nick indignantly.

"You're too emotionally involved."

"Oh, and you're not?" snapped Nick angrily.

"Don't pull that with me!" exclaimed Grissom. "I saw you in there! You were mad enough to punch a wall."

"And you weren't?" challenged Nick again.

"Oh, I wanted to do more than punch a wall," said Grissom quietly. "But unfortunately, your history shows that you don't have the same self-control I do."

Nick was silent for a moment, then said, "Fine. I won't investigate. But when you find those bastards, I'm going with you to get Greg back."

Grissom looked at him sadly. "When we find them?" he questioned softly.

Nick met his eyes. "Yes, when. Not if, when."

A few hours later, Catherine knocked on Grissom's door. "Hey, we got something from the airport. A woman matching Sandra's description boarded, accompanied by a man matching Greg's description, albeit in a straightjacket."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "And no one questioned a man in a straightjacket?"

Catherine arched an eyebrow of her own. "You forget, Bishop is nurse. Apparently, she had papers showing that Greg was being transferred to a hospital for the criminally insane. A worker that I talked to said that Greg screamed that he was being taken hostage, and to call the police, but the worker said he thought nothing of it, because he thought the guy was insane."

Grissom nodded slowly. "Where are they headed?"

Catherine smiled, grimly and fiercely. "Illinois. Chicago, O'Hare Airport."

Grissom nodded again. "Have Nick pack, and you too. Send Sara and Warrick to me. We're going to Illinois."

Warrick poked his head into Grissom's office as he knocked on the doorjamb. "You wanted to see us?" he asked.

"Yeah, where's Sara?"

"Here," she said as she strode in.

"What did you find at the scene?" asked Grissom.

"Not much. A bit of blood that tested as Greg's, and a stray hair."

Grissom perked up. "Not Greg's?"

"Nope. I'm running it through CODIS now. Actually," she said as her beeper went off, "that's the results now. Hold on a second." She left, returning triumphantly a few minutes later. "We got it. According to this, it belongs to a man by the name of Bruno Manchester."

Grissom paled visibly. "Problem?" asked Warrick, concern showing on his face.

"I know of Bruno Manchester. He has a record longer than you'd believe for assault and battery, though, of course, the witnesses magically decided not to testify against him at the last minute in most cases. He was also accused multiple times of sodomizing his victims, but none of the charges stuck."

"Oh God…" whispered Sara, real fear glittering in her eyes as she sank into the chair opposite Grissom's desk. "Poor Greg."

"Poor Greg?" snorted Warrick bad-temperedly. "That's a mild understatement."

Grissom cleared his throat gently. "I have news. We think we know where they took Greg."

Warrick and Sara's reactions were immediate. They both looked up and asked in unison, "Where?"

"Illinois."

Warrick shared a glance with Sara and asked, "When are we leaving?"

Grissom sighed. "You're not."

"What!" exploded Sara. "You can't not let us go! He's our friend! He…I…" She broke off, unsure how to finish, but glared up at Grissom in defiance.

Grissom stood, placating them. "I know, I know. But I need you guys to stay here and take care of things. To man the fort, for lack of a better term, while we're away."

"You want us to stay here and man the fort while you get to run off and go find Greg, who could be dead, or dying, or…" Sara ranted.

Warrick cut her off as gently as he could. "Sara, maybe it's for the best. I mean, we gotta keep Greg's lab in good condition for when he comes back, right?"

Sara wilted as if all the steam went out of her. She nodded slowly and left, shutting the door quietly behind her. Warrick sat in her vacated seat, looking at Grissom.

"Problem?" asked Grissom.

"Is Nick going with you?"

"Yes, why?"

Warrick frowned and asked, "Is that really wise? I mean, you know as well as I do how…well, how rash Nick can act in those kinds of situations…"

"I have all faith in Nick," said Grissom coldly.

Warrick nodded, slowly, clearly still not fully supporting his decision. He stood and turned to leave, then stopped and said quietly, "Bring him back, alright?"

Grissom nodded, too emotional to speak. Warrick left then and Grissom turned to look at the picture of the CSI team on his desk. Greg looked particularly Greg-like in that picture, his hair spiked outrageously, opting for an old Marilyn Manson t-shirt and jeans over the rest of the team's preferred outfits. His dark eyes were gleaming with laughter in the picture, and he seemed so…complete. "Oh, Greggo," whispered Grissom sadly, idly touching the picture with his finger. "We'll bring you home. I promise."

Rough hands forced Greg from the small plane that had brought him from O'Hare to the tiny airstrip just outside of Cairo, IL. His eyes darted left and right, searching for a way to escape, not that he'd make it far with everyone watching, but Bruno clapped a gargantuan hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Don't even think about it."

Hand still on his shoulder, Bruno steered Greg to the van waiting for them. He practically threw Greg in the back before climbing in after him.

Sandra appeared at the back, a maniacal grin on her face. "Well, Greg, I have the feeling you'll find this trip pleasurable. Bruno—enjoy yourself." Still smiling, she closed the door as Bruno advanced on Greg.