Author's note: slightly overdue, but hey, sumthin's better than nothing. Enjoy. Italics is flashback.
Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: none
Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.
Surviving the Storm
Chapter 14: Food For Distraction
"Can't I have something solid?" Greg complained, wrinkling his nose at the berries and coconut milk being placed in front of him. For the past two days, Greg's diet consisted of coconut milk and berries, which he had only just managed to keep in his stomach.
"Are you criticizing my cooking?" Catherine joked, standing beside him, and then she replied, "As soon as you keep this stuff down without gagging afterwards, I'll give you what little solid food we have."
"Not likely," Greg muttered, shuddering as he took a sip. Catherine rolled her eyes and left the shelter, checking the horizon for any signs of life as she walked down to the surf. Over the last two days, more and more, she found herself looking in the distance for that floatplane. If the criminals discovered their camp, they were as good as dead.
"What are we going to do about this?" Sara had asked two nights ago when the whole group was sitting by the fire.
"If they find us, we're dead," Warrick deduced.
"And it's not as if our camp is invisible. Sooner or later, they will see us on one of their trips to ice someone else," Catherine injected.
"Nice to see you're still optimistic," Nick commented dryly. Catherine winked at him.
"I've never been an optimist, Nicky," she replied, and then to the rest of the group, she said, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not crazy about sharing this island with a bunch of criminals."
"What are you proposing we do, Cath? Leave the island?" Warrick asked.
"Well, it does have its merits," she replied dryly.
"And it has its disadvantages," Grissom added, "We don't know how far the nearest body of land is from here. It could be days away and there wouldn't be enough food or water to sustain us all. We could die at sea."
"Wouldn't that be better than waiting for them to come back?" she asked, looking over at him.
"As long as we can keep them from spotting us, there's no need to be going anywhere," he replied placidly.
"How are we going to do that?" Sara asked, looking between her boss and his second-in-command.
"Camouflage our shelter. Make it look like its part of the forest. And then when we see a plane, we would stay out of sight," Grissom replied, as if it had been the most logical thing in the world.
"And if they eventually see us?" Catherine asked, trying to get a read on his emotionless face.
"Yeah, what then?" Warrick asked as well. Grissom looked around the fire at each face before he answered.
"Then we leave the island."
They had been fortunate enough to live through the plane crash, but could they survive this new danger? Catherine pondered this as she waded up to her knees in the cool water. What if they were seen? How long would they have to escape before the killers caught up with them? Even without the criminals chasing them, would they survive at sea? Catherine had resolved shortly after they landed on the island that she would survive this whole ordeal for her daughter. Was that possible now?
"How's the patient?" Sara asked, breaking Catherine out of her thoughts.
"Almost back to his old self," Catherine quipped, putting on a smirk.
"How do you figure that?" Sara asked, knowing Greg was only just starting to recover.
"He's already complaining," Catherine answered, grinning. Sara laughed.
"Poor Greg," she said shaking her head. And then she too, looked towards the horizon, as if searching for something.
"We're all on edge," Catherine said, joining Sara's gaze. Sara shook her head.
"I know. At least we had a shot to get off this island before they came," she said bitterly, "We could at least signal for a plane."
"We had a chance," Catherine agreed, feeling morose. They stood silent in the shallows for a moment only to be interrupted but the soft thud of a spear hitting the sand. They looked up and saw that the 'three hunters' were back from their latest expedition, and from the looks of their disgruntled expressions, they had come up empty handed once more.
"This sucks! Just one time, I'd like to come back with something other than sore feet!" Nick exclaimed, scowling as he poked at the fire with his spear. Warrick looked just as frustrated as Nick, while Grissom just looked exhausted.
"No luck?" Sara asked sympathetically as she and Catherine made their way up to them.
"We were close," Nick quickly responded, though Catherine knew where the truth lied. She looked at Grissom, who shook his head, telling her that they were no closer than their first hunt.
"Do you think we'd have better luck with seagulls?" Warrick asked, remembering when Nick and Greg had collided trying to get a gull.
"Well, there is an abundance," Catherine commented dryly, looking at the pesky birds that thoroughly enjoyed acting as alarm clocks.
"If we had fishing line, we could fish," Sara said.
"Well, we do have harpoons," Grissom said dryly, sticking his spear into the sand.
"If we don't find something, we'll have to ask Greg how his fruit cocktail tastes," Warrick sighed.
"It's gross!" they heard Greg shout from inside the shelter.
"Would you like the fish or the seagull?" Nick called pleasantly as if he were a waiter.
"Anything!" Greg pleaded.
"Someone is feeling better," Grissom commented.
"Oh, he is," Catherine agreed. Warrick rose to his feet.
"How does fish sound, Greg?" he called.
"Excellent!" was the enigmatic response.
"C'mon, Nick, let's go fishin'," Warrick then said, grabbing a spear and heading toward the rocky shore where they could see clearly into the water. Nick got up and followed, clearly thinking anything was better than sitting around. Grissom remained.
"You're not going to join them?" Catherine asked as she moved past him to go in the shelter.
"Are you kidding? I'm exhausted," he replied, rubbing his eyes.
"Someone will sleep good tonight," Sara commented as she poked the fire with a stick. Grissom cracked open an annoyed eye before he bounded into the shelter, in search of a banana.
"So they're fishing?" Greg pried Catherine as she took his bowl.
"You know you can't have any. You'll throw it up," Catherine replied. The look on Greg's face clearly showed how much he liked that remark.
"I won't!" he protested, "I'd be okay to eat that!"
"Greg-"
"Aw, Cath, let him try to eat. He's been starving himself on fruit soup," Gil said from his corner. He smiled when he saw Greg's face light up.
"Please, Catherine. Pretty please?" Greg pleaded. For a moment, Catherine looked undecided, and then she sighed.
"Fine, but if he throws up, you clean it up," she said, pointing to Gil as she exited the shelter to wash the bowl.
"Dude, she told you," Greg said from his raft. Grissom looked at him.
"If you throw up, I'll make your life equally as miserable," Grissom said, leaving Greg to ponder that.
"There's one there," Nick pointed out a fish to Warrick, who was lying on the rocks on his stomach, spear in hand. Warrick saw it and struck.
"You bastard!" he cursed at the fish who only narrowly escaped its fate, "Get back here you little…" he trailed off, muttered a mix of swearwords at the fish.
"Missed?" Sara asked, approaching the two men.
"I'll get 'em!" Warrick growled, eyes scanning the water, "Here fishy, fishy…"
"Has he lost it?" Sara asked Nick, who was kneeling.
"Hunger does that to you," Nick replied, standing up. She smiled.
"And what about you?" she asked, looking out in the water.
"I tried to help him, but then I started killing myself laughing at him," he replied, "I thought you don't like to join us when we're hunting."
"I don't. This is fishing. I like fish, you know," Sara answered, causing Nick to shift sheepishly. She giggled at him.
"I knew that," he said quickly.
"Of course," Sara agreed, rolling her eyes, and then she gestured to his forgotten spear, "Can I try?" she asked.
"If you want," he complied, handing her the spear.
"Balance me?" she requested as she knelt over the water. He firmly held her waist as she looked for a fish. She felt safe knowing he was there. Then she jabbed the spear in the water, missing the fish, but losing her balance and falling back into Nick.
"Woa!" Nick said as she tumbled on his chest. Her face was inches from his, but neither moved. They held that moment, just staring into each other's eyes, lips only inches away.
"Awww!" Warrick's voice broke them out of the moment and they froze, ready to endure teasing, but it never came. Instead Warrick said, "You're a nice fishy. You know you want to end up on my spear." They looked over as Warrick jabbed to water with his spear. They burst out laughing, rolling on the ground.
"What's so funny?" Warrick asked, looking over at them as if they had gone crazy. Both, Nick and Sara shook their heads, but didn't stop laughing.
"N-Nothing, man," Nick answered between gasps.
"This isn't working," Warrick said, ignoring them. He looked back at the water, his brow furrowed in thought. Then his face lit up and he ran back to camp.
"What was that about?" Sara asked, leaning on Nick to get to her feet.
"Beats me," Nick said, getting to his feet. A moment later, Warrick reappeared with his old blue shirt.
"What are you doing with that?" Sara asked, watching as he tied the sleeves around two sticks.
"I am making a net," Warrick announced proudly.
"A net?" Nick asked, "'Rick, you're a genius!"
"I know," Warrick replied cheekily. He dipped the makeshift net in the water and waited. He watched as a school of fish inched closer.
"Now?" Sara whispered. He shook his head. The fish inched closer and then there was a splash. Nick jumped out of the way as Warrick brought his net up, revealing three small fish, about six inches long.
"HA! HA! Yeah!" Warrick cheered.
"Do it again!" Nick demanded, grabbing two of the fish, while Sara grabbed the third. They threw them in the middle of a small assortment of rocks, moved to make a pail. They waited a couple of minutes before Warrick brought up two more. Soon Nick and Sara were preoccupied with Warrick's many fish. It was only when Sara turned that she saw their new problem.
"Uh…guys?" she questioned.
"What?" they responded, not even turning to look at her.
"We have a problem," she said.
"Problem?" Nick asked turning around and then he saw what was going on, "Oh, shit! You feathery bastards!" he yelled, running to their fish, which were being munched on by hungry seagulls.
"Oh, Hell no!" Warrick exclaimed, putting down his net and running to help Nick chase away the birds. Sara, however, was beside herself with laughter as she watched Nick and Warrick chase the gulls down to the sand.
When Nick, Warrick, and Sara returned from fishing, they found Catherine, Grissom, and Greg sitting around the fire. Greg had insisted that he join them outside, whether it was to get out of the shelter or to be outside in case he threw up was anybody's guess.
"What happened to you two?" Catherine asked when she saw Nick and Warrick. Both were dirty, sweaty, and bruised. Warrick had feathers in his hair, while Nick looked like he ate sand and feathers. Sara was unscathed.
"The seagulls," Nick answered. Sara tried to stifle a giggle. He glared at her.
"Not again," Grissom moaned.
"Did you catch anything?" Greg asked eagerly.
"We went through Hell to get this," Warrick deadpanned, opening the shirt he was holding to reveal a small pile of fish. Grins broke out.
"Fish fry!" Catherine announced, holding up a frying pan. Of the ten fish Warrick caught (and wrestled back from the gulls), they fried six of them, making fish-ca-bobs out of the rest.
"This has never tasted so good!" Grissom gushed as he took another bite of his fish.
"Why didn't we do this before?" Nick asked.
"I don't know," Sara answered.
"Warrick's the man!" Greg exclaimed between nibbles of his fish.
"I know," Warrick grinned. That night, supper was incredible. Catching the fish felt like their first triumph, and it had somehow sparked a hope in each person that, maybe, just maybe, things would be all right.
"Greg are you feeling okay?" Catherine asked later in the evening. The young man retched and threw up his dinner.
"Aww, come on, buddy, let's get you to bed," Nick said as he and Warrick moved to help their young friend. As the guys helped Greg to bed, Catherine looked over at Grissom.
"Yeah, I know. You told me so," he sighed, getting up to at least cover up the mess. Some world, he thought. I'm cleaning up vomit on a desert island frequented by murderers, while Brass, Doc, and the rest get sit in the lab and eat doughnuts.
TBC
AN: lol I have to thank my boyfriend's best friend, Zack, for the inspiration for Warrick, the fish, and the aww moment. lol Zack, ur the bomb!