A/N: Thanks to Elena and Duffshel for reviewing. After reading your stories, I'm honored to have you reading mine.
Greg was only slightly shocked to find a car waiting outside for them. These guys seemed to work together in everything they did. They seemed so seasoned and professional about this all. It amazed Greg to think that between the Adam, Duncan and Joe, they had experienced just about everything life had to offer. He was glad he was alive to live another day. He wanted to pick their brains for stories of their life experiences. Now wasn't the time, but he would make sure to find the time, soon.
No, it definitely did not surprise him to find Joe Dawson standing by the idling car. Joe was holding the backdoor open so he could put Catherine inside. Greg placed her gently in the seat before turning to the other men.
"She needs to be taken to a hospital." Greg informed the older man. Joe nodded, giving him a slight frown. Greg stood back while Richie placed the kid in the front seat. While they watched Richie put the seatbelt on the kid, Greg felt the need to tell Joe, "That is one of our attackers."
"The kid?" Joe's gruff voice seemed to get higher in his surprise.
"He shot us." Richie turned to show the bullet hole in his jacket. "And I just bought this! I should know better than to buy something this expensive!"
"He shot you?" Joe ignored Richie's grumbling. Instead, he was looking closely on the blood that decorated the collar of Greg's shirt. It was evidence of a lot of blood.
"Yeah, I guess I died." Greg shrugged, feeling embarrassed.
"Look's like you need to find yourself a new recruit." Richie informed Joe. "He'll need a Watcher now. Unless, you get Warrick a new one and reassign that Archie-guy to Greg. I doubt he'd have a problem with knowing who his watcher is."
"I'll discuss it with Adam, see what he thinks. That can wait until later." Joe agreed dismissively. "Come on then, we better get her out of here. We can stash Greg at Warrick's place on our way to the hospital."
"I'm not going. Here, call this number, have Grissom meet you at the hospital. He can sit with her." Greg pulled out a notepad and scribbled the CSI number down.
"Greg." Richie warned. "You need to get out of sight. You're dead now, remember? Sara saw you die, she can't see you again."
"I told you, I won't let her see me. I have to stay here until it's over. I can't just leave while my friends are in danger." Greg insisted once again. The look he gave Richie told him that there was no use arguing, he wouldn't leave. Once again, Greg reminded Richie of the times he had been warned away but refused. When a man had friends, you didn't leave them behind, no matter what. With a resigned sigh, Richie agreed.
"Rich, just make sure he stays out of sight." Joe advised as he circled around to the driver's side. Richie nodded, turning to find that Greg was already returning to the building. He jogged after him, wondering if he had been this annoying to Mac when he had first become immortal. Remembering how grouchy Mac had been, Richie guessed he had been, most likely worse.
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From what Sara could see, Nick was right. Warrick did know what he was doing. He seemed just as skilled with the sword as the other man did. Warrick fought dirty, using more than just his sword as he tried to disarm the other man.
Sara had watched the movies, and this was nothing like the swordfights the movies had. It wasn't just Warrick that was fighting dirty. Both men punched and kicked at every opportunity. They blocked and attacked with no apparent rhythm but they both seemed to know the moves. No sooner had that thought crossed her mind, than Warrick caught a hard foot to his abdomen that should have done some major damage. Sara gasped as Warrick went down to his knees but relaxed as he rolled away to spring to his feet behind the man.
The swords would find purchase and blood would flow, but it never seemed to faze the men. They just kept going. Warrick's wife-beater was ripped to shreds and more red than white, but still they continued. Warrick treated the cuts as one would treat a mosquito bite. He never failed to move on.
Sara had always known that Warrick was a fighter, but what she was witnessing was beyond her scope of imagination. This was not just a conflict. This was war! This was a battle to the death, she could see it in the way they moved and struck one another. She felt a chill of apprehension run through her at the realization. If Nick had not kept such a firm grip on her, she would have attempted to get in the middle of it.
The assault made its way around the room, both men using whatever they could in an attempt to get an advantage. Warrick managed to disarm his opponent once, but a quick swing from an overhead catwalk got the man back to his weapon. Sara chewed her nail nervously as the battle moved from one end of the room to the next; the only sounds were the clashing of swords and an occasional grunt from one of the combatants.
Warrick lost his sword in a dirty blow of the man's fist. Sara nearly screamed but knew better than to do anything to distract Warrick. He grabbed up an iron pipe to use as protection from the other man until he could scramble back to his weapon. He thrust it forward, blocking the onslaught. The pipe broke into two, the top piece flying up and towards where the two CSI's stood and watched. Sara was dismayed at this proof of just how sharp that sword was and how deadly each blow was. Warrick did not seem too surprised. He slung the remaining piece of iron at the other man's face, using the momentary distraction as time to fetch his own finely honed blade. He somersaulted away from his opponent and retrieved his sword. He was well armed and ready when the man charged at him again.
The battle raged on. Suddenly Warrick seemed to be losing ground. He became the defender and his opponent the aggressor. The other man began to edge him backward and Warrick had no choice but to retreat as he blocked one attack after another. The other man seemed to be aiming him towards one particular spot. It was as if he knew something that they couldn't see.
Sara whimpered, trying to get out of Nick's grasp. Warrick was in trouble, she could see it. She could feel it down to the very marrow of her bones. There was danger. "Nick, let me go! Let me help him! He needs our help!"
"We can't Sara. We have to let him do this himself!" Nick hissed, the pain of what he was saying evident on his face. He wasn't liking this any more than she was, but something was keeping him from coming to Warrick's aid. There was something he was keeping from her. What could possible force Nick to put himself through so much torment? Sara didn't understand it and she didn't like any of this.
"He's your best friend! How can you just stand there and watch this? What kind of man are you?" She had never been so angry with Nick before. She had never been so disappointed in Nick before. This was not the Nick she knew and loved. This was not the behavior of anyone on the team. "Why aren't you trying to help him?"
"Sara." Nick sighed. "You don't understand. I cannot. I want, more than anything, to help him. He wouldn't want me to. It's against the rules. He told me that himself. It's his fight and I can't help him."
"What kind of sick thing is this?" Sara snarled at Nick as her eyes followed the slow progression of the battle across the room. The other man seemed intent on getting Warrick to the darkened area not too far from where Nick and Sara were. As much as Warrick tried, he seemed to have no choice but to back towards that unlit area.
Warrick blocked another attack, bracing himself against the attack, he held strong. While they were locked in position, he brought his gaze directly to where Nick and Sara were. He locked gazes with Nick, as if he knew exactly where the other man was the entire time. There was something in his eyes that scared Sara. It was a look of defeat. Warrick shook his head, seemingly trying to convey some sort of message to Nick. Nick let out a little mewling sound and nodded. Warrick brought his full attention back to the fight at hand. The visual conversation only last a split second but something had happened between the two.
"Come on. We have to leave." Nick's voice was broken, as if he were fighting back emotion. His face was pale and he looked as if he had suddenly aged. He turned away from Warrick, tugging at Sara's arm.
"No!" Sara balked, pulling away from Nick. "I will not go!" She turned back to watch Warrick. If she were prevented from coming to his aid, she would at least be there to witness what was happening. She would remain and should Warrick fall, she would be there to see the man responsible brought down. This fiend had already hurt Nick and Catherine. He was responsible for Greg's death. She would not stand idly by and let Warrick die at his hands.
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Warrick was nearly out of space. He had nowhere to go and Coy knew it. He was trapped. He leapt atop a metal crate, one last attempt to get out of his predicament. The crate wobbled precariously at his added weight. Warrick scanned the area. There was nowhere to go. Coy slashed at his legs, trying to knock him off balance. Warrick jumped to avoid the sharp slice.
As he came down the crate cracked, throwing him off balance. Warrick's only choice was to jump off of the box. He did a flip off of the box, landing on some loose gravel that caused him to skid. Coy took advantage of his imbalance and kicked him in the midsection.
Warrick fell, crashing spread-eagle onto the ground. His breath left him in a huge burst of air as the hard ground knocked him breathless. He lost his hold on his sword causing it to go clattering away. "No!" Warrick's mind screamed. The loss of a weapon was a death sentence. That was the first lesson an Immortal learned; to lose your weapon was to lose your head.
Coy was not about to give him the chance to recover. He leapt at Warrick, sword raised to strike the deathblow. Warrick knew he could not get to his sword in time. There was nothing to use as a weapon anywhere within reach.
As if from far away, he heard Sara cry out to him and it hurt his very soul. He had hoped that Nick would get her out of here. He didn't want her to see this. Warrick wanted to call out for them to run. Coy would not hesitate to kill them or anyone else he came across. He opened his mouth to do so, but he couldn't seem to make a sound.
Death was eminent. The Game was about to be over for Warrick Brown. He could only pray that his friends could get away in time.
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I'm guessing that you don't like me much at this moment………..
Please tell me what you think of this chapter. I wasn't sure how to write a fight scene, so I cheated and wrote it through the eyes of someone who knows nothing about swordfights.
