Title: Crash and Burn
Disclaimer: Angst, slash, violence, sexual content, language.
POV: Nick
Chapter Seven: Losing Nick
Someone really didn't want me to be happy. They went out of their way to make me depressed. How can anyone be happy sitting on a couch will braces and gauze wrapped around parts of the body? Popping the pills to take away the pain didn't really help me any either. Since having a hairline fracture in my cheek made opening my mouth too far hurt like hell. At least the bruising and the swelling had gone down some. Even the black bruises under my eyes were beginning to fade. I probably looked like some sort of deranged raccoon-person. My life was hell.
Grissom had rushed to help me after Mr. Knowles called him. The look on his face when he stepped out of the Tahoe hurt me even more. At first he was shocked, and then he was outraged that someone would do such a thing, and finally, he was upset and worried. Just like I predicted he brought the cavalry along with him; an ambulance and two police cars. Most of the officers patrolled the area to see if they could find anything. One officer interviewed Mr. Knowles and of course, the paramedics took care of me. I think my neighbor had been extremely impressed with the fast service. I just hope he didn't spread the word; people would start complaining about the lack of speed their injuries received.
I leaned my head back against the couch. I'd taken a painkiller a few hours ago and a sleeping pill. I just wanted to spend some time out of this world. It would be a better alternative. The last thing I needed to do was listen to my own thoughts in a quiet house in my depressed state. Last time I got this upset I tried to kill myself; not once, but twice. The others would never forgive me if I gave into the temptation and tried it again. So I slipped a pillow behind my head and closed my eyes, waiting for the sleep to take me away.
I found myself wandering the hallways of the lab. It was night, or so I thought, since the place was dark, even with the lights on. Not another soul wandered the halls with me. I was all alone. Lost to the world, or did the world lose me? I slipped through the hallways like fog on the night. Taking advantage of the opportunity I took a detour to Grissom's office. I had always wanted to snoop through the countless things he kept locked away from us.
The room called to me, empty of all those who would shoo me away. I inspected the shelves full of glassed-in dead bugs; there were even a few lives insects and a rather large tarantula on the shelves. If Grissom spent as much time on people as he did on his bugs he'd probably be a happier person. Boos lined even more shelves. They covered every scientific topic under the sun. The books on bugs didn't surprise me in the least. Or the ones on decomposing bodies, I had a few of those in my home.
A trashcan fell over, making a loud clanking sound. The lights went out and I whirled around in surprise. Something had gone wrong. I heard a big bang, glass shattering. The sounds reminded me of the time the lab blew-up. Running into the hallway I found one flickering light. It showed me the broken glass and the smoke from the explosion. It was just like the time Greg got blown up. Only he wasn't there this time.
The glass crunched under my feet as I cautiously walked around the shattered room. It was stifling hot in the place. I went to run a hand across my forehead to wipe away the sweat when a flash of color caught my eye. I looked down at my hands. Both of them were covered in blood. Where had it come from? A loud bang against a door called my attention. Letting my blood soaked hands fall to my side I gravitated toward the constant banging. The door to the garage stood in front of me. The noises kept coming, as though someone were banging to get out of the room. Should I open the door? What if there was something unpleasant behind that door?
I slipped my hand over the door, smearing blood everywhere. The knob felt warm in my hand. I twisted it. The door opened and the banging kept up, even though no one was there. What the hell? I walked into the room. The only thing there was a large metal coffin. My heart stopped. The banging came from there. Someone wanted out. A force not my own had me walking toward the dreaded box. All attempts to stop myself went nowhere. I had no control over my own body. My hand brushed along the cool metal surface of the container. The knocking became more insistent. My fingers traced the outline of the latch that kept the lid held shut.
Trembling with a fear my fingers worked on their own to pop the latch up. I tried to close my eyes. I didn't want to see what lay inside. The lid eased opened slowly, drawing out the tension and the suspension. My heart raced in my chest. Sweat began to dot my brow. I didn't want the damn thing open. I tried so hard to stop myself but to no avail. The lid was open.
Greg lay inside, his throat slit and glassy eyes seeing no more. Blood coated his white T-shirt like spilled paint. A scream lodged in my throat. I couldn't face this, and yet, I couldn't walk away. Some force held me here, to glance upon this horrible scene before me. I wanted to run and never look back. My body was nearly seized with a heart attack when the hand of the dead Greg moved. It pointed toward the lid of its metal coffin. My eyes involuntarily followed the outstretched finger to read the words scrawled in blood.
You are the one responsible for this…
The scream finally tore free and I let it out. I let the world know that I was desperate and scared. Gaining control of my body I slammed the lid shut, shutting away the body of my lover. The banging began almost instantly. This couldn't be happening to me. This wasn't right. I hadn't killed Greg…I hadn't. The knocking grew louder, until the whole metal coffin shook.
I opened my eyes, nearly jumping off the couch in my fear; I tried to shut away the images in my mind. Greg wasn't dead. He couldn't be. I tried to shake the fear from my body. There would be no sleeping for a long time, if ever again. I needed to have Greg home with me. I needed to know that he was indeed safe. A loud bang on my front door made me cry out in surprise and fear.
Personally, I didn't want to get up and answer the door. I knew that moving would cause ripples of pain to pass through my body. But the knocker was persistent and the banging on the door was beginning to give me a headache. Easing slowly up from the couch, I stood on two shaky legs, trying to get pass the pain. Every damn little move hurt like a thousand needles piercing my skin at once. This was hell. The only thing that could possibly be worse than this would be a gunshot wound. Imagine feeling that small piece of hot metal passing through your skin, shredding your innards and, if you're lucky, passing through the skin again on the way out. I shuddered at the thought.
With slow deliberate steps I took my time getting to the door. Whoever was on the other side really wanted my attention. How long had they been standing there, waiting for an answer? Why had they not called out? If Grissom had been on the other side of the door he would have broken it down, worried about me. This was probably some person out to sell stuff. I really hated door-to-door salesmen. My hand brushed against the cool doorknob. The locks were in place. The next knock shook the door, as though someone had thrown themselves against the door.
"Hold your horses, damn it. I just need to undo the locks," I shouted at them. The last thing I needed was someone breaking down my door. Unlocking the two locks that kept the outside world at bay I opened the door. My heart stopped and the blood running through my body went cold. This wasn't happening. I had to be on the couch, still dreaming away the day. I had to be.
"Hello, Nicky," the man smiled innocently.
"You're not really here," I muttered in protest. The brown hair and the brown eyes of the short man standing in front of me were familiar to me. He was the last person I wanted to see. The last person I ever expected to see. Fear wrapped around my chest, squeezing my ribcage and making it hard to breathe.
"Aw, Nicky, I feel so hurt now," the man replied. "Of I'm really here. You see, we have a touch of unfinished business. You ruined my life a year ago. My plan fell apart because of you. I just wanted to be your friend. Why couldn't we have been friends, Nicky? Imagine the fun things we could have done together. Instead you had to go and spend all your time with that pesky lab technician. He really is a nerd, you know."
"Go away," I yelled, trying to slam the door shut. He stuck a foot in the opening, keeping it from closing. "Don't make me call the cops."
"Who's going to believe you, Nicky boy?"
"Grissom will believe me. They all will. All they have to do is check with the prison to find out that you escaped, or got out, whichever it was." This was more of a way to reassure myself.
He laughed. "Oh, please, that won't work. You see, I've had time to make a few friends in high places. As far as your friends know I'm still in jail. My record says so. Most people would like to have it the other way around but this time, my plan will not be ruined. Not by you, not your nerdy lover, or your meddling friends."
I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks. This just couldn't be happening again. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"I wanted your life, Nicky, and you wouldn't just step aside to let me have it. No, you had to go and get me locked up in jail," he sneered, forcing himself into my house. "This time, I'll make sure no one gets to have your life. I'll kill you and that nerdy little scientist of yours. Though I may take my time with him. Make him suffer. I should have been the one you spent your time with, not him."
"Please, Nigel, don't do this, not again," I cried openly. My stalker was back out on the streets and seeking his revenge. Could he have been the one to kidnap Greg? He did say that he wanted to make him suffer.
"It'll be different this time, Nicky boy, I promise. This time I won't use a gun. They make too much noise," he promised. "Instead, I have a different tactic I'm going to use. Maybe I'll hide somewhere down the street so that I can see the look on Grissom's face when he shows up to find you dead. One of his precious CSI's killed in their own house. The headlines will be lovely."
"Please, Nigel," I begged. "Can't we work this out? Find some common ground to stand on?"
The smile that he flashed me was purely evil. It sent shivers down my spin. It left an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I'd never get to see Greg alive again. I'd never see him smile, or hear his laugh. I'd never get to smell that scent that was purely him, or cuddle next to him in bed. This was not how I wanted to die. But how was I going to fight against a man in perfect health when I was bandaged and in braces? Why did it have to end this way? Did I have no other choice in life?