Disclaimer: Ok. Despite the fact this has been in the last fourteen chapters and will be in everyone of the future, I don't own CSI, I'm just borrowing the characters for a little while.

A/N: Thank-you all for the positive reviews. So, especially for you, a Nick-tastic filled chapter. Enjoy. Just, don't throw anything at me if you don't like it :)

Also, some spoilers from Season 1, Episode 6, Who Are You? And Season 2, Episode 19, Stalker. Again, just for new readers, I started this before a large amount of Season 5 had aired in the UK, so no mention of Grave Danger.


Chapter 15: Past, Present and Future

Nick had been forced into the back of the van and was now seated against one of the sides. The blood from his leg injury was still tacky. Because his hands were bound behind his back, he was unable to apply pressure to the wound to lessen the blood flow. His wounded leg however was the last thing on his mind. His eyes were closed and his breathing rapid, images flashing through his mind.

Flashback:

Nick pulled his Tahoe up to his driveway and turned off the engine. He looked towards the door. The police that had been assigned there earlier had obviously left. Leaning over to the passengers side, he picked up his wallet and got out. He locked the Tahoe and made his way to his front door. Opening the door, he walked inside throwing his keys and wallet onto the chair.

End Flashback.

Mentally, he was kicking himself.

'If only I'd have listened to Grissom instead of being so headstrong. Now he's got two missing CSI's to worry about.'

Two. Two missing CSI's. The phrase kept repeating itself around his head.

'Missing. Still alive. He's not dead. He can't be dead. They'll find Rick. And they'll find me. And things will be like normal again. Beers on our night off. Breakfast with the rest of the team after a lousy night.'

He almost chuckled to himself at that thought. Memories of one particular time when Brass had joined the CSI's on a meal. Thought he could get away by not paying the right amount.

'You CSI's notice everything.'

This thought however was pushed to the back part of his mind, various memories of the last few hours shifting closer to the surface.

Flashback:

He stopped in his tracks as he saw Warrick, now in a heap on the floor. His hands were bound in front of him, allowing him to cradle his broken arm. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The Warrick Brown he knew was strong, bold and sometimes outspoken. The one in front of him however was bloodied, withdrawn.

End Flashback.

He closed his eyes tighter, trying to fight the images.

Flashback:

Tell me Mr Stokes. Would you die for another?" he asked. "Would you die for your friend here if it guaranteed his release? "

Nick picked himself off the floor, and stared at Tyrone.

'He's crazy.' Nick thought to himself.

"I asked you a question," he snarled. This time he grabbed Warrick round the top of his shirt and dragged him along the floor. Warrick groaned as the rough floor aggravated his injuries.

End Flashback.

He shuddered, shaking his head. The memory gave way to the last one he had of the house.

Flashback:

"Now, move," Tyrone said, gun in hand. He pushed Nick forward to the door frame. He winced as he put pressure on his wounded leg. Standing in the doorway, the small amount of light filtering from downstairs, he took one final look at Warrick on the floor, as the cold metal of the gun pushed deeper into his lumbar spine.

End Flashback.

That last image was almost burnt into his mind. He'd left his friend there. What was perhaps the last moments as the life in him dimmed.

'It's not my fault,' Nick kept saying to himself. 'I had no choice.'

He let out a cry of frustration, leaning his head back onto the side of the van, the cold metal boring into his skull. The van hit some uneven ground, causing his head to hit the van with some force. He cursed mentally to himselfHe tried to manoeuvre his body so it wasn't so close, but he wasn't being too successful. Each bump was making it more difficult for him to do so, resulting in him banging his head a few more times. The speeding van however came to an abrupt stop, sending his body sideways into the back of the front seats. A few moans escaped his lips. His head hurt and his muscles ached.

The engine cut out. Nick heard the door opening and footsteps heading towards the back of the van. The rear door opening, let daylight into the van. He squinted as it hit his face.

'Seems like ages since I've seen daylight,' he thought to himself.

He was relieved. The thought of sunlight seemed to give him fresh hope of getting out of this situation. Tyrone entered the van, his gun pointing at Nick's face. He grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling and dragging him to the doors of the van. He jumped out, keeping his gun trained on Nick, before pulling him to his feet.

"Don't try anything," growled Tyrone. "If not, I'll shoot you and you'll join your friend sooner then you think."

Nick looked around, taking in the surroundings. Or, lack of them. They were in the middle of nowhere. The only thing in sight was an old abandoned building. The walls were crumbling, pipes leaking.

'Any plan I could have had for escaping would be hindered anyway,' Nick though to himself. 'Even if I could have run I wouldn't get anywhere.' He looked off to the side, into the distance. 'He'd be on my before I'd got fifty metres.'

The cold metal of the gun was shoved into his back, forcing him forward.

"Walk," came Tyrone's voice. "Now."

Nick obeyed, although grudgingly. He approached the building. Tyrone, keeping the gun trained on him, opened the door.

"In," he said, pointing the gun at Nick again.

Walking inside, a strong smell hit Nick's nose. It was wet from the leaks in the water pipes, a strong smell of must from the damp furniture. He was led over to a corner where some of the pipes ran down the wall. Tyrone cocked the gun to the floor. Nick didn't need to be told to know what he wanted him to do. He carefully lowered his body to the floor. However, he hit the floor with a thud, his bound hands making it difficult for him to lower his body with ease. Unfortunately, he was now looking down the barrel of a gun. Again.

'Amy Hendlar. Nigel Crane.'

The memories of the incidents came to the surface, something that he'd tried to keep to the darkest parts of his mind. His eyes began to sting as the tears welled up in his eyes, the same as before. His body trembled, but he fought the tears. Fought the uncontrollable movements that his muscles were urging him to let loose. His breathing rate increased as the adrenaline rushed around his body. He wasn't going to release his emotions for Tyrone to see. To use against him. He'd already shown his weakness back at the house.

'The problem is, I care too much for others.'

He'd shown his weakness by refusing to leave Warrick alone to die. Shown his anger at the way he'd used his friend as a tool to break down his barrier.

'Would you die for another?'

Tyrone's words echoed round his head.

'Was this what he meant by dying for another? Was he supposed to die for Marty Silver? The man who'd raped and murdered innocent women? To die for a man who had ruthlessly murdered, yet shown no mercy? Was that Tyrone's plan all along? The imprisonment, the torture? Duped to trade the life of a prisoner for the lives of two CSI's?' His mind was full of confusion. So many questions yet no answers.

'Just speculation,' he told himself in an attempt to calm his nerves.

But he couldn't be too sure. He'd seen first hand over the years the things that people did to each other. Spur of the moment, an act of aggression.

'I am not going to die in this hellhole,' he told himself firmly in an attempt to pull himself together.

He breathed deeply, eyes closed, trying to calm is nerves, reassuring himself.

'It's the only thing I can do.'

That's when he heard it.

'Click.'


I know I'm mean – I didn't want to end the chapter here, but it seemed, well..too good a cliffhanger to miss out on. Hopefully the next chapter won't take too long to post. I know where I want to take this fic now and have the next few chapters planned out in my head – I just need to write it. :)