A/N: As allways, thanks for the reviews:-) You were asking about who was the mystery man and what he wanted. Well, there are some clues. Enjoy the story.

Trapped

by Nicol Leoraine

Chapter 7

"Duty, Honor, Fidelity," Brass mulled over those three words all the way up the stairs and he wasn´t the only one.

"What was it, detective? Whad did you find?" Kevin finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity anymore. He saw the look on the detective´s face in the storage room and he leaned over his shoulder close enough to hear the three words, but didn´t know the meaning or the reason Brass spoke them.

"It´s none of your business," Brass replied in the middle of the stairs and threw Kevin a warning glare, but this time it didn´t work.

"With all respect, Sir," Kevin emphasized the last word. "But I think it is my business. I would really like to know what´s going on."

"I don´t know!" Brass barked and in a way, it wasn´t a lie. But he couldn´t stop thinking about past actions and consequences.

A much younger Jim Brass was on his way to the office, dragging his feet as much as he could without literally coming to a stop. The trial was about to start the next Monday - a whole week of more or less subtle hate from his colleagues. Well, from those that were left in the department. Baring himself for yet another day of hateful glances, and not so harmless pranks, Jim Brass pushed the call button and waited for the elevator.

He was all alone in the parking lot, but it wasn´t too weird. Even before it all started, Brass was coming to work earlier than most of the cops. He liked to be in the office first, maybe because it gave him a chance to get out of his home before the morning chaos. His two daughters were still too young and his wife wasn´t the cheeriest person when trying to make breakfast, while the two girls squealed and constantly bickered over one thing or another. Thus, Brass enjoyed the chance to drink his coffee in silence.

He never anticipated the hand that landed on his shoulder. It wasn´t a friendly tap, Brass already knew he couldn´t expect any of that anymore. He still turned with hope that this wouldn't be the proverbial Damocles sword falling on his head. Seeing the hate filled eyes put that hope aside, though.

"Josh," he acknowledged the presence and cast a wary glance at the othe three figures standing behind.

The arm on Brass' shoulder squeezed hard, Josh obviously not concerned by the bruises. Brass didn´t think he would be.

"You put my bro´ behind bars. And plenty of other good guys, too."

Brass didn´t speak. He knew anything he said would just be turned against him, most probably by someone´s fist. For the first time in the last months, he wished he would´ve stayed at home.

"I can´t let you ruin my family and just get away with it, Brass. I will make sure your life here will be a living hell, and I know for sure that some other cops will heartily help me out."

"Duty, honor, fidelity. Do you know what those words mean?" Brass spat out and prepared himself for a fight.

"It means you don´t ruin the lives of the cops that were ready to risk their necks for you," came the angry reply.

"No, it means you don´t look away when some dealer is selling drugs to kids in school just because he pays you. It means you don´t kill another cop when he doesn´t want to play your game. Perhaps your brother had some trouble grasping the concept," Brass hissed, all the anger giving way to righteous indignation. "He didn´t deserve that badge, and you don´t deserve it either!"

And that was when the first fist landed. Not so much later, when Brass came to, he found himself in the dump container behind the police station. Even there, though, he could hear the hateful words uttered to him in the midst of the beating.

"You will pay for it. One day, you will pay for this, Brass. And I will rob you of your family, like you robbed me of my brother."

"It´s closed, detective," the voice from the present brought him back and Brass blinked away the bad memories, still feeling the shiver run through him. Could it be Josh had come to fulfill his promise?

"Sir?" Kevin looked at the man with concern. Brass looked lost in his thought but Kevin needed him in the present. "The door-"

"I heard you the first time, Kevin." Without losing time to recheck, Brass started to descend the stairs. "We need to find another way," he mumbled, knowing that if it was Josh behind all this, there would be a way. If nothing else, then Josh himself would provide him with one.

xxxx

Gil Grissom was never one to be scared easily, but all he wanted in the last hour was a quiet ride on a roller coaster. It would surely be less stressful than this. When the elevator stopped and the door opened, he waited with baited breath for someone to step out. But the car was empty. Frowning, he slowly walked up to it and looked inside.

"I think we´ve got an invitation," he mumbled and more felt than heard Nick move behind him. The younger CSI peeked into the car, then looked at his supervisor.

"I don´t get it. Who´s behind all this? And what are his plans?"

Grissom looked at Nick, seeing the confusion mixed with anger over their predicament. He would´ve liked to give him a straight answer, but he didn´t have it.

"I don´t know, Nick. But I don´t think it´s anything good." Grissom paused, casting a glance toward one of the cameras. As if taunting him, the camera made a small, almost imperceptible move and Grissom clenched his teeth.

"You said it before - he´s playing with us." With a grunt, Nick propped up his bad hand so now it rested on his shoulder. Although it didn´t seem like much, at least the pain wasn´t getting worse.

"I wonder if Sara and Jim are all right."

"I hope so. This whole thing looks like a set up," Grissom stated thoughtfuly.

"Well what are we gonna do about it?"

"You want to take a ride?" Grissom´s eyes glinted playfully and Nick smirked.

"You know it could be a trap. You´re not afraid the car will just fall with us?"

Grissom´s half shrug was a reply enough, but he couldn´t resist an urge to add:

"It won´t be more than four stories." This time Nick merely rolled his eyes, too tired to do anything else. Grissom noticed it and his face turned serious.

"If you don´t feel up to it, you can stay here, Nick."

Even as the first words left his mouth, Grissom realized it was a ridiculous offer.

"No, thanks. I think the worst thing would be to separate. We made that mistake once - we shouldn´t repeat it."

Grissom felt the words strike home but he pushed the guilt back. Nick was right though - they couldn´t separate. There was no way to tell what was waiting for them if they got onto the car, but leaving Nick there alone in his condition was foolhardy.

Nick saw the silent agreement and nodded himself.

"Well then lead on, McDuff."

"Actually, it´s Lay on, Macduff," Grissom corrected him automatically, to which he got a confused "Huh?"

"Macbeth," he said as if that explained it all. Nick though wasn´t feeling up to riddles and just shook his head.

"It´s the last scene. 'Lay on, Macduff, and damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!' They´re Macbeth´s last words, meaning "go for it, Macduff, let´s fight to the death!"

"Either way, I think it can be applied in our situation, so shall we go?"

When they were standing in the car and the door closed, Nick only prayed that those wouldn't be their last words. Because if he remembered correctly, Macbeth was slain right after the words left his mouth. But it looked like they would have a little more luck, he thought as the car moved, starting their slow descent.

xxxx

Catherine more felt then saw when the bullet hit Warrick in the back. His body jerked, but she couldn´t tell if he fell or rather dived behind the cover of the boulder. It didn´t matter much as he was pulling her down with him, into safety. For a minute they both just lay there, waiting for the shooting to stop. As the fire ceased, so did the alarm and the desert was once again silent.

Encouraging herself, Catherine pulled out her arm from Warrick´s still strong grasp.

"Warrick?" she asked, her voice slightly quivering.

"Hmpf," was the reply and Catherine didn´t know if she should feel relieved or not. Warrick was clearly alive, but he could still be gravely injured.

"Were you hit?" she inquired, berating herself for the stupidity of the question. Of course he was hit. Why else would he just lay there on the ground, eating dust?

"Uhm," Warrick grumbled, then moaned as he felt the pain in his back. Without any more questions, Catherine blindly reached out, only to touch the rough material of the backpack. Frowning, and maybe hoping, she took it off Warrick´s back, all the while trying not to hurt him. After some grumbling, which was turning out to be more coherent with every moment, she could finally check Warrick´s back. There, in the right upper quadrant, where she could feel his shoulderblade, was a tear in the jacket. She lightly pushed at it to which Warrick practically jerked away from her touch. She didn´t mind it though and her fingers probed under the jacket, the confusion turning into relief as she found there was no blood, no hole in the body.

"Oh man," Warrick grumbled, propping himself up on his elbows and knees, hissing as the movement irritated the muscles in his back.

"Welcome back," Catherine greeted him, having a better mood than the situation deserved, but she just couldn´t help the silly grin or the urge to reach out and hug him.

"What the hell?" Warrick grouched and tried to pull away, only to end up gasping as he hit his back against the boulder. "Damn it, Cath, get off of me!"

"Well, glad you´re alive, too," she muttered and let out a sigh, opening the backpack. While she rummaged in it, Warrick tried to remember exactly what happened. At the rustling sound and a victorious yelp from Catherine, he looked up at her.

It was still dark outside and the stars nor the moon didn´t provide them enough light, but Warrick still saw the lines of a PDA. But it looked a little weird. As Catherine pushed it into his hands, he realized what was wrong.

There, in the left corner of the PDA was an embeded bullet.

"At first it ran through this though," Catherine said, holding out a spare flashlight. Warrick´s probing fingers quickly found the hole in the handle.

"Oh joy, hope that Grissom won´t pull it from my pay."

"I think Gil is momentarily our smallest problem, Warrick. Someone was shooting at us, if you didn´t notice."

"Oh sorry, I had no time while I was pulling you to cover," Warrick replied mockingly, while he threw both the broken PDA and the flashlight back to the bag.

"By the way, thanks for that," Catherine said, her voice serious. Warrick, suddenly embarassed by his behavior, mumbled a silent "You would´ve done the same thing for me," then quickly started assessing their situation before Catherine could say more.

"Do you think there´s a sniper in the building?" Catherine asked, matter of factly.

"I´m not sure," he replied and was already crouching by the side of the boulder, gun in hand. He waved with his hand and quickly retracted it as several shots rang out.

"Trying to get killed?" Catherine hissed at him angrily, to which Warrick only shrugged, then pushed around her and crouched on the other side of the boulder. He repeated his action, though this time there was no shooting. Getting brave, he gingerly peeked out.

TO BE CONTINUE

Next chapter will be up in few days, but youare still encouraged towrite some reviews:-)