Disclaimer: I don't own CSI – I just borrowed the characters to create my own little fanfic.
A/N: Ok. So apologies for the last chapter and the cliffhanger. As I said, I didn't want to leave it there, but it just cried out to be left there. Thank-you again for the positive reviews.
Chapter 16: Breathe For Me
The pulse between Grissom's fingers escaped his grasp. Fumbling, he failed to regain it. He watched as the slow, yet rhythmical breathing lessened, before coming to a complete halt. Panic set in, sending a fresh wave of adrenaline pumping through his body. He shook Warrick's body, shouting out his name, but was met with silence. Quickly pulling on a pair of gloves, he took out some scissors, cutting the bindings that held the dying man's arms.
"Brass," he cried out. "Take this. Tell the medics to hurry up," he yelled, passing the scissors and the rope to Brass. He nodded, rushing back up the stairs.
Grissom didn't even wait for a response from Brass. Taking Warrick's forehead with one and hand, and tucking his other hand under his chin, he tilted his head back. Keeping the position, he pinched Warrick's nose, blowing steadily into Warrick's mouth. The chest rose, and fell again, before standing still. He repeated this again before checking for a pulse. Nothing.
Quickly, he identified the correct hand position on Warrick's sternum and began chest compressions.
'One and two and three,' Grissom counted to himself each time compressing Warrick's chest. 'Fifteen.'
Again, he gave two breaths, before starting the compressions again.
"Come on, breathe," he urged.
Footsteps could be heard hurrying down the stairs.
"Excuse me sir," one of the medics said, politely, yet urgent.
Grissom, moved out of the way to let the paramedics through to do their job. They were trained to save people's lives like this. Did it everyday.
He stood back, watching the scene in front of him. He felt Brass stand beside his shoulder.
"He'll be alright Gil," he said, although his words were lost to Grissom.
Catherine and Sara stood back from the house while the scene had been cleared, waiting for Grissom's signal. Instead though, Brass came hurrying out from the house, shouting for a medic. They didn't get the chance to speak to him before he was racing back inside behind the paramedics. This sent a small flurry of hope through the both of them. On the one hand, if they needed a medic, someone must be down there. But the question was who and what condition were they in.
"You think they're in there?" Sara said, the first to break the silence of the hectic scene in front of them.
"I hope so," replied Catherine.
"Geesh, I just wish Grissom would let us know what's going on," Sara said, staring at the entrance to the house.
Time almost seemed to slow down for Gil Grissom. It wasn't supposed to be like this. One CSI at death's door. The other, somewhere else. And they were no closer to finding Nick. No matter how hard he had tried not to think about it since the start of the case, he was now facing what seemed like the inevitable. No-more Warrick. A team torn apart by the madness and cruelty of another human being. He never thought that it would be one of his CSI's though. It just wouldn't be the same.
And even 'if', no 'when' we find Nick - ' he told himself firmly, before letting the thought trail off completely. 'Shouldn't focus on the negative. It's not over yet.'
His thoughts instead shifted to the happier memories he had around the lab. He remembered one particular time he'd caught Nick and Warrick in the break room playing video games.
"You guys want an assignment slip or a pink slip? "
If this particular situation wasn't so sinister he'd have smiled. Typical Nick. Typical Warrick.
'He's back.'
Grissom looked up, the sentence from across the room catching his attention.
"Get the mask on him. He's hypoxic," the medic said, while the other quickly put the mask over Warrick's face. "We need to move him out of here now. On the gurney at three. One, two, three." They quickly positioned him on the gurney. "Are you coming?" one of them asked Grissom. He nodded.
"Get Catherine and Sara to start processing the scene" he said to Brass. "When I know what's going on, I'll be back."
Grissom followed quickly behind the paramedics as they went up the stairs.
"Is he going to be okay?" Grissom asked.
"At the moment, he's critical. We need to get him incubated as soon as possible and it's likely he's got a pneumothorax."
Grissom nodded, following closely as the gurney was wheeled out of the front of the house and to the waiting ambulance. He saw Catherine and Sara waiting on the pavement, worry etched into both of their faces.
"Grissom, is he - " Catherine shouted.
"Speak to Brass. He'll fill you in. I'll call when I know something," he said, climbing into the back of the ambulance. The sirens started, and it sped off down the road to the hospital.
Sara and Catherine approached the house, kits in hand and were met by Brass at the door.
"What happened down there? Grissom wouldn't tell us anything." Sara said, meeting Brass' eyes.
He shook his head. "It wasn't good. Almost lost him, but they got him back. Still touch and go though."
No-one said anything. Catherine broke the silence.
"Does Grissom want us to start processing the scene?"
"Er yeah. Listen. About that. It doesn't look too good down there. You need to go down the stairs in the kitchen. Watch your step."
He moved aside to let Catherine and Sara inside. Both had gotten out their torches and were now making their way to the kitchen. With Catherine leading, they made their way down the stairs to the basement, both scanning the floor for anything.
"You smell that?" Sara said, still standing on the bottom few stairs.
"Yeah," Catherine said, now looking at the rest of the room. "Smells like burnt flesh." She was pacing around the room. "I've got blood over here," she called out. She bent down to take a closer look. "Looks like a footprint."
Sara came up behind her, shining her torch on the spot with Catherine's.
"Definite print. Not too clear though." She shone her light on a far wall, moving closer. "There looks like some splatter over here."
"Can you start processing down here while I check the rest of the house over?" Catherine asked, now standing up.
"Sure," Sara replied, setting her kit down, and taking some shots of the room.
Brass came down the stairs, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.
"Brass, where was Warrick when you came in."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Right there. Head towards that wall there," he said indicating with his hands.
"Any sign that Nick was here?" Sara asked.
"Nothing visible."
"I'm going to search upstairs," Catherine said to Brass, moving towards him.
"There's an Officer up there. Just call if you need anything."
Grissom waited outside the emergency room. He'd spoken to his Doctor. Warrick had stabilised since the 'hole' in the intrapleural space of his lung had been covered and a chest drain attached, drawing out the air that was trapped. His broken arm had to be moved back into position to be set, and the deep wounds and burns on his body were being treated. He'd have to be monitored for the next few hours in case he relapsed again. Various tubes and drainage lines were attached to his body.
"I'm sorry Warrick," he mumbled apologetically as he looked through the glass at his unconscious form. He'd be out of it for a while still. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew they still had to find Nick, and they still had a crime scene to process. Clutching bags of evidence, he took one last look, before heading towards the exit. He took out his mobile and dialled Catherine's number.
"Willows."
"Hey Cath. It's Grissom. I'm now leaving the hospital. How you doing at the crime scene?"
"Okay," she replied. "We've covered a large area and gathered a large amount of evidence." There was silence as she paused over the line. "How's Warrick? Brass told us what happened."
"He's stable," Grissom said. "There's nothing we can do at the moment until he wakes up which may be a while. I'll see you soon," he said, hanging up.
It didn't take Grissom long to get back to the crime scene once he'd actually got a cab. He paid, then approached the house, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape. He flashed his badge at the officer at the door, who nodded politely at him.
"Brass? Cath? Sara?" he called out.
"Yeah. We're in the kitchen," came a reply.
He made his way through to find the three of them looking over somethings.
"What you got?" he asked the three of them.
"I found this screwed up in a corner," Sara said, handing him the evidence bag. Inside was a ripped piece of paper covered in creases where it had been screwed up.
Grissom looked it over, forehead creased in thought.
"Looks like part of a list."
"Yeah. But check out what's on the bottom of that half," she replied quickly.
"Did you find the other half?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"See if you can find it. We need to know what the rest says."
Ok – just incase someone gets confused by some of the things in this chapter this is a very brief description of some of the more medical terms mentioned, as they are a bit more in depth then I've written here.
Pneumothorax – Is the presence of air in the intra pleural space, which is the space between the two pleura of the lungs.
Hypoxia – When someone is hypoxic they have a low level of oxygen in their blood, which can lead to poor tissue delivery and other problems.
Here's a small teaser for my next chapter :)
Chapter 17
'Click.'
Time stood still. A small tear slid down the side of his face, leaving a clear trail down his bloodstained and blackened face. He waited for the sound of the trigger, the bullet to impaling itself in his brain. Waited for the brief burning sensation. He knew what a bullet at close range could do to a person. Had seen it often enough in the cases he'd worked.
Until then :)
Investigator
investigater
