A/N: Okay, I whined a little last time about my lack of reviews ut obviously it worked, I got like three in the first day. Sry, I'll try to be happy with seeing the stats on the chapters.
I know, I'm not due for an update until tomorrow, but it's my birthday so as a gift to you, an early update. Doesn't make sense? Well, that's just the way I work. LMAO!
Everyone seems to want me to do some serious damage to poor Nicky...we seem to have this sickness of wanting him hurt. He's already been injured once in this story! Isn't that enough? I know, he's up walking about already, even with the fresh wound, but I have a RN as a beta and she's informed me that it is possible, as long as he's careful...so...enough chitchat...I'm guessing you want to see who is or isn't injured, right? Shall I tell you this time? Or should I drag it out another chapter? I could do that, ya know? Okay, enough being goofy...
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The deafening silence was all Nick Stokes heard for several minutes. Something heavy was weighing him down, trapping him against the rough ground beneath him. His face was pressed against the dirty, rough surface of the floor. The darkness surrounding him was nearly suffocating as the weight pressing down on him. He held himself still as he tried to get his bearings. He hated darkness nearly as much as he hated being trapped. Here he was, in the dark and trapped. Memories of his entrapment in his own grave sent shivers through him. This overwhelming fear had lain dormant for so long, he had thought that he had beaten it.
He had no time for this irrational fear, and made himself rise above the quacking terror that threatened to prevail. Nick forced his mind to focus on what had happened. There had been a blast from a rifle! Had there been more than one? It all seemed like a blur in his muddled mind. He couldn't remember, but he thought there had been more than one shot.
Nick took stock of himself. Other than being pinned down, the only pain he really felt was from his knife wound. He took a deep breath of relief. He hadn't been hit. Frowning he nudged against whatever it was that had him restrained. It was……soft. It was a man. He elbowed the man sprawled over him. It was Richie. What was Richie doing atop him? Richie did not move. Pushing with all his strength, Nick rolled Richie off him roughly.
Richie did not as much as flinch. He tumbled off Nick, loosely. Nick pushed himself higher, reaching over to check his pulse. There was no pulse. A moment of fear ran through him, but Nick pushed it back. This was the decisive moment. Nick's belief in the reality of all this lay on Richie. Whether all this Immortal stuff was truth or fiction would be determined by Richie rising or remaining dead on the floor.
As much as he hated the whole idea of living forever, he hoped Richie wouldn't stay dead. Nick did not want this bit of guilt laid on him. He did not need it; he had enough crap to contend with. He remembered it clearly now. At the first sign of trouble, Richie had tackled Nick to the ground. The bullet that had taken Richie's life had been meant for him. Nick couldn't bear that thought.
"N-N-Nick?" Sara whimpered, sounding very unSara-like. She sounded emotional and pained.
"Sara?" Nick forced himself on his knees, ignoring the pain in his chest and stomach. He crawled towards where he had seen Sara last. "Sara? Are you alright?"
"Nick……it's Greg." Sara whimpered, her voice choked with the emotions she was fighting. Nick dug into his shirt pocket and pulled out his mag-light. The light flickered as if it would turn off but the light remained true. Nick squinted into the sudden brightness, suddenly aware of a nauseating slurping sound. Crawling forward, he reached out to touch his friend.
Greg was gasping and convulsing as his body fought the pain that he didn't seem aware of. Nick scrambled closer; he could see the blood pumping out of his friend. Crimson, sticky blood was draining out of a ragged hole in Greg's neck. Nick struggled to drag his top shirt off. Once he managed that, he used the cloth, pressing it to the wound as Greg made gagging sounds. Nick knew that this action was futile. There was no hope. Greg was drowning in his own blood.
Richie sat up, shaking his head as if to rattle his brains back into place. "What's going on?"
"Greg…." Sara sobbed, kneeling beside Greg. She bracketed his head between her hands. "Hold still Greg. Hold on! We'll get help!"
Richie hastened over. Taking a look at the fallen man, he shook his head. He'd seen this before. He knew that Greg was done for. He looked up to discover Nick's gaze on him through the darkness. He shook his head again. Nick sent daggers at him. "You're positive about this?" Nick murmured in a hushed tone, not wanting Sara to hear him. Even though she seemed engrossed in her mourning, she was still a CSI, she would be listening even if only subconsciously.
"Yes, you need to get her……away." Richie motioned to Sara. The woman in question was openly sobbing as she cradled Greg up against her.
"No! I'm not leaving Greg!" Sara hissed as Nick tried to dislodge her grip.
"Come on Sara, there's nothing we can do. We still have to find Catherine." Nick coaxed as he forcibly pulled her away from Greg's inert body. He could not help but look at his friends face. Sometime while Sara had been holding him, Greg had taken his last breath. His eyes stared sightlessly ahead. Unable to help himself, Nick reached over and closed Greg's eyes.
"Go." Richie pushed him. "Take Sara. Find your friend. Be careful, stay in the shadows."
"What about Greg!" Sara cried out, sounding on the verge of hysteria.
"I'll deal with this." Richie answered, staring meaningfully into Nick's eyes. Nick understood, even through the heavy grief that attempting to overwhelm him.
Nick got to his feet, slowly. Ignoring his own pain and heartache, he pulled Sara up alongside him. "We've got to find Catherine."
"But……what about Greg?" Sara tried to pull away.
"I know Sara." Nick sighed. "But, we can't do anything for him. Catherine might be alive. If she is, Greg would want us to save her. We can come back to him when this is all over."
"Nick." Richie held his sword out to the man. "Take this. You might need it."
Nick took the sword, looking at it as if it were a snake about to strike. "What about you?" The sword was heavier than Nick had expected. He wondered if it really was heavy, or was just simply weak. Nick shook those thoughts away; there was no time for that. He had to get Sara away from here and they had to find Catherine. His own lack of strength would have to wait until later.
"I can handle myself. You might need it more than I will." Richie assured him. The forever-young man wanted to say more, but with Sara there, he couldn't continue. "Don't worry about us-I mean, me."
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Archie watched as Warrick fell to his knees once again. Something was wrong! Was Warrick hurt? He hadn't seen anything hit Warrick or anything, but something had caused the Immortal to fall.
Warrick brought his hands up to cover his face for a moment. Taking a deep, soul-cleansing breath, he brought himself to his feet. Archie slid deeper into the shadows as Warrick turned towards the direction he had come. Even from the distance, Archie could see his green eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
Warrick was crying? What was going on? Evidently, he wasn't hurt, but upset? Archie was confused. Archie did not like to see his friend so pained. He had a strong desire to just run up to Warrick and ask him what was wrong. He wanted to ask him if he could do something to help.
Archie knew he could not do that. As a Watcher, he had no business approaching his Immortal. He had to just watch and take notes. In addition, Warrick was rather infuriated with him, so it was best to stay clear of him.
There was no time to think about it any longer, as Warrick pulled himself together and began to move again. Warrick was searching, Archie could tell. He was looking around corners and studying the shadows as if expecting someone to jump out of them. Archie grew nervous. What if someone did jump out of one of the shadows at him? He couldn't depend on Warrick to rescue him. Oh, where was that gun he had wished for?
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"Where are my CSI's!" Grissom demanded to the nearly empty lab. David Hodges stood at a counter in the back corner, diligently working on some trace evidence.
"They took off the minute you left." Hodges informed him silkily, without looking up from his project.
"Damn it!" Gil spat, spinning on his heel towards the Audio-Visual Lab.
"He's not in there." Hodges' nasally voice followed him out into the hall.
"What?" Gil turned back towards the loathsome Trace technician with great reluctance.
"Archie. He's not in there." Hodges smirked, at least, it looked like a smirk. Gil had trouble telling the difference between a Hodges smirk and a Hodges smile. They looked the same to Gil. He was never a people person, and Hodges type of people was the worst.
"He went with the team?" Gil wanted to know, he needed to know. He felt deceived. He felt let down and abandoned. Gil Grissom did not like that feeling.
"No. They left together. Archie followed a minute later." Hodges cocked an eyebrow up, as if sensing some of Grissom's irritation was not just irritation.
"He….followed them?" Gil was confused now. Nothing was right about anything lately. When this was over, he vowed to take a well-deserved vacation.
"Looked like he was." Hodges shrugged, nonchalant. "But then, I was actually in my lab. I was doing my job, like I'm supposed to."
"Yeah." Grissom waved a hand at him, dismissively. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the brown-noser. He was tired. He was frustrated. Most of all, he was worried about his team. Without another word to the snake-like lab rat, he turned and headed to his office. He needed to think.
This was the type of situation he needed Catherine the most. She was the people person. She had the insight that he lacked. If she were here, she would be the perfect sounding board. He would lay it all out on her capable shoulders and then wait for her reasonable or not so reasonable solution. That was why the two of them worked so well together. He had the logical answers while she had the ability to understand the illogical.
He needed Catherine here. He needed his team. Where were they and why had they all abandoned him? What was it about this week that had sent everything so haywire? Last week, he had had his complete team, working together and getting the cases solved. Now he had unsolved cases and everyone on his team was missing. Perhaps they weren't missing, but he was? He was missing something. Some clue or evidence had escaped him.
