Summary: There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.
Timeline: Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six
Spoilers: Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes
Disclaimer: This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.
Title: To Whom It May Concern
By: duffshel
Author's Note: Hey everyone. Lots of people seem to be reading, so, that's a good thing. And thanks to those of you who take the extra little amount of time to review. So, here's a nice long chapter for everyone. Enjoy as always! And let me know how it went.
Chapter 5:
Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased by tales, so is the other.
Francis Bacon, "Of Death"
present…
Something was causing his eyelids to twitch. Nick groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, arm thrown up over his head. He had tossed and turned all night. Every one of his muscles was sore and Nick knew it would be a tough day. Mentally and physically, no less.
The sheets twisted around his feet, holding them together almost uncomfortably. His t-shirt was riding up, bunching up under his lower ribs. Nick groaned again and raised his head to look for his clock. He kept his eyes scrunched up, his left hand lifting to scratch at his nose.
According to the red numbers, he had been asleep for a little over seven hours. It was an improvement. He smiled with limp lips. Maybe it would be a good day once he got up and moving.
Nick threw his legs over the edge of the bed after a strong fight with the sheets and got into a sitting position. His neck twanged, but he ignored the minuscule pain. Opening up his eyes wider and stretching out his jaw, Nick stood. Now that he woken up more, his bladder was screaming for his full attention.
Without thinking much about it, Nick walked right past the frog tank and flipped on the light. The small green world lit up causing the frog to jump for cover. Nick just continued on his walk to his bathroom. His nose wrinkled a little.
"Man, need to clean this place up, a-sap," Nick spoke up to anything that would listen, no matter the cell count. A voice cutting into the silence was just something he needed right at that moment. He would rationalize it with himself later that talking with himself wouldn't necessarily be a good improvement step right now.
He raised the toilet seat and answered the call from nature. His entire body seemed to shake from the pleasure of release. The simple things in life were always private things you never wanted anyone else to ever witness. And no one could tell him watching a lover piss was something that would show commitment and love.
Nick sighed and stepped away from the toilet, flushing as he did so. His back was tender. All he wanted to do was to take a nice cool shower to wash away the sweat that had collected during the night. And his teeth really felt funky. He absently grabbed at his mouthwash and took a swig. It swished around, prickling at his gums and tongue.
But it was the fact that his fingers were aching, pulling at something not in that small room. Nick sniffled around his mouth full and turned unsure eyes towards the hallway. He knew what he really wanted to do. And it really surprised him. He really wanted to get back to that journal and continue his story, this tale.
He spit into the sink and rubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand, "Man, something must still not be back in place. Never would'a thought I'd want to write in a damn diary like a teenage girl with a school crush."
No answer. Didn't really surprise Nick at all. Not like the sink would ask him if he wanted a cup of tea with his deep thoughts. He had just spit in it.
"Fuck it all."
The uncharacteristic shout echoed heavily throughout the space. Nick slammed his right palm into the wall and practically ran out of the bathroom. The bedroom seemed too far away. His feet carried across the carpeting. He was so close now.
Nick gasped and threw his body into a halt. His arms flailed in the air as his torso kept moving in the direction he wanted to go. There was a darkness line just inside the door frame. Only a slim line of light reached across his bedroom, over his bed and pillow from the window. The frog tank was bright, but again, not enough to light up much of the actual room. And in all reality, the nightlight was really pitiful.
He took a shaky breath and rubbed his hands over his scrunched up eyes. It was a stupid thing. No need to fear it. Hell, he had made it to the bathroom with no problems. Of course, he hadn't been aware of much in his waking state. Can't really see things if you don't think about them. It's dark behind the eyelids anyways.
The doorbell ringing almost made him jump out of his skin, "Damn!"
It rang again, echoing throughout his house and his skull. Nick stood stock still for a moment longer before forcing himself to make the trek from his bedroom door into the living room. His hand brushed against the paint on the wall, his silent support. There was a pain in his chest, but he would never connect it to the fact his breathing was rapid and harsh.
A knock slammed into the wood, "Hey man, get your ass moving! We've got twenty minutes to get across town. Nick? Nick!"
He expelled a rush of air from his lungs, cleaning out as much carbon dioxide as possible. Nick leaned forward, hands dropping to his knees as he shook himself out of his near panic attack. In the end, he had to chuckle a little at the sound of Warrick getting mad at his door.
"Nick! Damn Texan. Open the door! Don't force me to break the shit down! I'll go kung-fu on it, don't even mess with me, man."
Nick walked slowly to the door, smile creeping up onto his face. He curled his lips inward around his teeth as he fought his laughter. It sounded like there was a bull that had just seen a hell of a lot of red out of his front step. The peep hole was just under his line of vision and he could see Warrick perfectly through it.
The taller man was pacing in two step intervals, hands clasped in fists at his sides. Warrick's head was shaking from side to side as his lips moved in obvious curses for the man spying on him. Nick waited for just a moment longer, until Warrick raised his battering ram to the wood again.
"Nick! Open the damn do…" Warrick trailed off as his hand didn't hit anything, open space now in front of him. His body had been bent forward, moving to hit the wood, and Warrick just couldn't stop the momentum.
The other man stood back behind his door and watched Warrick reenact the scene he had had with his own bedroom just a few minutes earlier. Unfortunately, Warrick didn't have as much grace and went straight down to the floor.
Warrick lost control of his diaphragm as he hit, "Shit!"
"Well, good morning to you too sunshine," Nick smirked as he pushed Warrick's legs out of the way so he could close the door behind the man splayed out on his tile.
His smirk grew as he watched Warrick flounder a little, gaining no ground as he rocked from side to side to get his arms underneath him. The glare he received as the other man pushed himself to his feet was nothing new. Nick simply shrugged and raised his eyebrows. He had seen the wince Warrick had given, but knew better than to mention anything about it here and now.
"You're a jerk, you know that? Think that wouldn't hurt?" Warrick growled low in his throat as he wiped his hands on his pants, "Hit my hand wrong. Kinda hurts."
"Yeah, makes ya love me all the more, don't it? And I don't kiss and heal, have to call the wifey for that one. Now, sunshine, you want any coffee to go with that fall? Should have some aspirin to take away your owie if ya need it."
"Call me sunshine one more time, Stokes, and I'll make you walk to the doc's."
"Well, seeing that I'm not supposed to over do it in the exercise department, that would mean I wouldn't have to go today," Nick nodded to himself as if he suddenly solved all the questions of the universe, "Deal, sunshine."
Warrick counted down from three in his head and shook his head. He watched Nick pad off into his kitchen, lights on of course. Looking around, Warrick noticed all the blinds were open, sunlight pouring into the house. It was a new thing Nick had been trying, since earlier in the years everything was always locked up as tight as a bank's safe.
"You ready to go man? Like I said, only twenty minutes to get across town. And you know how much I hate to be the last ones. I hate that damn look he gives each and every time."
"Warrick, man," Nick gestured down to himself, "Unless you want me to get in trouble for going to the doctor looking like this, give a guy a second to get ready. Geez, always in a hurry. Man can't wake up and relax at all in his own damn house."
"If you got your ass up and ready in time, we wouldn't have to deal with this. Just move, bro."
Nick saluted Warrick before he turned to head into his bedroom, "Yes Ma Brown."
This time he walked across the threshold with little thought; playing it cool to the man he knew was watching his every move. But he jumped for the light switch as soon as he could make it out. The light bathed him in warmth. Nick gave himself only a moment to take it in before jumping to get dressed. They couldn't be late to another session.
"Don't know why you always insist on getting there so damn early in the morning, 'Rick. Ain't going to matter what time of day we go. We can talk with everyone and change up the time," Nick mumbled as he walked back out towards his friend.
He found the other man leaning on his kitchen counter, water bottle in his dark hand, "Just don't like a lot of traffic to deal with, especially after. 'Sides, everyone else gets off at this time and it just works. So shut up and get a move on."
Nick left it well enough alone. He knew Warrick had his own issues with everything to deal out as well. But, deep down, he was glad to have his best friend there, for all of it. Seemed unfair and all, but it helped more. Unlike having everyone else there as well. That just opened and spoiled too many other cans of worms.
"You taking the book?"
The question dragged Nick out of his thoughts quickly, "Nah, not yet. Just started last night, finally. Should earn a gold star this time around."
It was a weak attempt for a joke and a smile. Neither man took the bait. In fact, Warrick seemed a little more uncomfortable about everything now.
"Yeah, been meaning to work on mine. Have it open to the first page and everything, but…ya know. I keep having Tina remind me about it, but it just isn't working. What made you start yours?"
"I dunno," Nick shrugged as he locked the door behind them as they left, "Just did. Might actually help."
Warrick watched his friend as he engaged the alarm system and turn to face the morning sun, "Yeah, who knows. Weirder shit has happened before."
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
seventy one days earlier, crime lab…
Only thing odd about the shoe was the white substance Nick found caked up in one of the treads. Nothing else stuck out. Went over it with a fine toothed comb and nothing. And he had been so sure it would help with everything.
Nick sighed and leaned forward on his stool, bringing his head to his hands. He closed his eyes and tried to clear out his mind. It didn't work. Any sort of calm was lost on him. But he was glad it didn't explode into a full panic attack.
He had been having them fairly recent as of late. The cases they had been dealing with brought them out of him. Like that damn bug on his arm. Nick never had been so happy in his life than in that moment, knowing no one saw him freaking out because of a bug on his arm. And no one really meaning Grissom.
Other than that little incident, Nick had been on the ball that case. It was his first big one back with the gang, after his "recovery" time. And Nick had made sure the others would see he was fine and could handle anything. A car blasting through a trailer was nothing. Nick Stokes could handle anything.
Now, he was being taken down by a damn shoe. It was his newest low. Nick shook his head and let out a bout of laughter. There was an edge of hysterics underlining it.
The door opened slowly without him really realizing it. No, Nick only was aware of the crashing, crinkling sound of several bags being dropped onto the table next to him. He threw his body up too fast, equilibrium went wacko. Nick ended up falling to the side, taking the stool down with him to the floor.
"Oh shit," Nick threw out his left arm to stop his head from smashing into the linoleum.
"Hey man," Warrick cried as he jumped forward to catch the falling CSI, "Watch it."
The scene was almost exactly as Warrick remembered another one being. But then, there had been a hot tub and Greg laughing away. And Nick hadn't walked away from it without any injury. Warrick knew he would never forgive himself if he allowed Nick to get hurt due to something stupid again. His something stupid that was.
Nick landed, grunted, and simply sat breathing downward. Nothing broke in the fall, other than about a hundred blood vessels in his cheeks and ears. His face was really, really red. The heat was enough to roast a turkey.
"Nick, here. Let me help you up."
A hand was reaching down to him. Nick turned his head enough to look up at it, trying to hide the flush of embarrassment from Warrick's vision. But he also wanted to get up off the damn floor. He threw his hand out for the help.
"Thanks, bro," Nick mumbled under his breath as he kept his head down. His hand shook a little as he reached down to grab the stool. Warrick beat him to it.
"No problem. Didn't mean to freak ya out though. Deep thoughts?"
"Just wondering about the scene Catherine and I worked tonight. Got a shoe, off the foot of the vic, but nothing major out of it. Only trace was a white substance on the bottom. Hodges will just be so pleased that I have nothing big for him to do."
Warrick shrugged, "So what. Hodges can just shut up and do his damn job. You only can take him what ya got. If that's it, tough shit."
"Yeah, tough shit," Nick laughed a little more, almost the same as before, "Tough shit for me. And Catherine. Girl is dead and we got nothing. Man…"
"Well, you keep working away and I'll try to figure my own crap out. I have to take a look at some samples we pulled from the area around the body. And ya know how much I love doing that kinda crap."
It was enough to get Nick to smile a little, "What did ya say last time? Loved it enough that you'd eat some of your Grannies' liver pie?"
Both men looked at each other for a moment and shuddered at the thought. The woman knew how to cook, no doubt, but liver pie was just not something either wanted to think about. Warrick smiled a little to see some of the tension and pain leave Nick's eyes. And he also noticed the Texan relaxed his shoulders a little with company in the quiet room with him. It was enough.
"You print it yet?"
Nick looked up sharply at the question, "Oh man. Didn't even think about doing that. I really should, shouldn't I? I mean, could prove someone else touched the shoe, it was off after all. And then we can figure out who it would be, since how many people touch other people's shoes? Not something I think most people do, especially if they aren't married and all of that. Should have thought of that…"
"Whoa, whoa, Nicky!" Warrick laughed a little, holding out his hands to stop the man, "What's with the tirade? I mean, geez, haven't heard you ramble off like that in a long time."
"Just that I'm a complete and utter idiot. I should have thought of printing it as soon as I lifted the substance. Instead I didn't think anymore about what could be done."
"Hey, its been a long night and mistakes happen. At least it was caught now and not later, right?"
The shorter CSI simply shrugged and rolled his eyes, "Yeah, later would mean I'd have to answer up to Grissom for my screw up. I owe ya one man. Saved my hide."
"Eh, you'd have done the same thing for me. This kind of stuff happens. It's an odd case to begin with and you're going to collect and document everything anyways. No need for anyone to have to worry about anything," Warrick stated as he started to get his things ready for normal CSI procedures.
Nick didn't say anything more. He watched his friend work on the evidence from his scene, noticing how Warrick went over everything, eyes squinted. Deep down, he knew Warrick would have printed the shoe almost immediately. It slipped his mind. And it made him wonder what else he might have been missing.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Jim Brass walked slowly down the hallway to his office, nodding at officers on his way. He was tired. It was going strong into his second shift after taking a day shift from another detective. And he really didn't like working days with those day CSI's.
He pushed his door open with a shove and slammed it behind him with a sweep. It was dark, only light was coming through the blinds from the hallway. Jim almost wished to keep it that way, but knew that would bring people asking questions and concern for what was wrong.
There were several folders sitting, waiting for him right in the middle, right in front of his comfortable chair. He heaved out a breath as he looked down on the numerous manila containers. His fingers twitched at the thought of signing signature after signature on each of those forms. 'Really should get one of those stamps the mayor uses.'
A yawn cracked his face right open and he let the chair take the burden he had been carrying around all day. Alone in his office, he could lay off the humor and wise guy remarks. Now he could let it all go and just breathe a little.
Jim reached up and grabbed the photo of his baby girl. Looking at it always brought a smile to his face. And not one of those smiles Stokes and Brown harassed him about. It was a real one, a fatherly one. His thumb brushed over the beautiful face for a moment, forgetting the problems he had with Ellie. But a knock came on his door.
He quickly put the photo back into place, checking it over twice to make sure it lined up perfectly with the dust marks already left behind. Jim had an appearance to keep and he wanted to keep the newbies in line and in fear.
"Come in."
The door opened quickly and Sam Vega walked in without a word, followed closely by Sophia Curtis. They were quite an odd couple, but Jim could forgive them for it. Besides, they did make his job easier, most of the time.
"What can I do for you two?"
Neither said a word as they each took a seat in the two chairs sitting in front of the large desk. Sam stared straight at Jim; Sophia looked around at the wall behind the older man's head.
Both were trustworthy officers and Jim was glad to have them working with him. He had been a little doubtful of Sam at first, but the man had proven himself time and time again. The man was a great fit with the graveyard CSI's and that made Jim the happiest.
And Sophia had knowledge in both worlds. She had been a great CSI under Ecklie's day shift and now she was becoming an excellent detective under his watch. There was some underlining tension between her, Sara, and Grissom, but Jim didn't really know what to make out of it. The three of them had seemed to work well together when Ecklie played God for the last time.
"There a reason you're both in my office right now? Or should I simply start playing Clue without you?"
Sam opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it once again, this time getting words out, "We might have a new serial on our hands."
"That all? And here I thought we had something serious coming onto our hands now," Jim leaned back in his chair, hands linked on his chest.
"It is serious, Jim," Sophia rested her elbows on her knees, "Three victims, one night. This could be the start of something bad."
"What do you have?"
"I was out with Catherine and Nick. Girl in an alley, two gun shot wounds, back and neck. I haven't touched base with them yet, but it's still early yet. And I've got to contact any family I can. We have a name on her, identification."
Jim nodded for Sophia to add whatever was making her leg twitch, "I was at Grissom's scene. Two girls, same M.O. as Sam's. And from what it appears, it was only the sight of the drop. I talked to Gil and he was currently in autopsy with Robbins. He was going to call me once they had something to go on."
"So we have three victims, killed the same way. Sam, yours a drop?"
The shorter man shrugged and ran his hands through his dark hair, "From what I heard Catherine saying, most likely. Not a lot around there to go on. Busy area with businesses. Can't really trust anything on the street."
"So, we really don't have a lot to go on?" Jim asked, frown covering his brow.
Sophia shook her head, blonde hair whipping about, "No, unfortunately. I looked things over before the CSI's even got there. Going to be a tough one. Like Sam, this was a busy area, couple of warehouses in the area. Tire treads are hard to time. Besides, it just started raining cats and dogs outside."
The three quieted, thinking hard. Rain meant lost clues, lost scenes. Jim could only hope his team had collected as much as they possibly could. But he knew there would be no blame on them for any of this if they failed to come up with a suspect or an original crime scene.
"Seems like we may have to wait for them to strike again. And hope they're dumb enough to make a mistake."
He looked at the two detectives across from him and knew they weren't happy to think about that. But if they lost everything to the rain and nothing came from the evidence, there really wasn't much more to do.
"Anyone get their contact info?" Brass shook his head at remembering what Sam had said a little earlier, "Sophia, your two girls?"
"I was going to wait to hear from Gil before I tried anything on that level. As far as I could tell, nothing on either," Sophia nodded her head at the other man, "Sam agreed with me that I'd help him with his girl and family.
"Alright. Just keep me up on it. I'm still stuck on helping day shift with their stuff. As soon as I'm free, I'll give ya a call and see what I can help with."
All he received was a couple nods of their heads and then their backs as they left the office. Jim rubbed at his face with both hands before laying them flat on the folders. He turned his eyes back to his daughter. Even she failed to remove even the faintest line from his troubled face.
His phone rang and Brass almost growled at the damn thing. He picked it up and barked into it, "Yeah?"
"Uh huh…Alright…I'll let them know right away…No, someone will be coming. Just wait for a few minutes…Yeah, bye."
He slammed the phone down onto the receiver and rubbed at his temples. Jim knew he couldn't sit behind his desk, in his chair for much longer. No, there was a new case and the graveyard shift needed to start working on it. A break-in and a group of people running away in the backyard was something you couldn't just put on the back burner.
TBC…