Summary: There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill yaw.
Timeline: Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six
Spoilers: Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, 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: So sorry about the horrible wait! I really didn't mean for it to get that bad. And I hope you guys are back to read some more. Warning that it might be another short wait for the next chapter again though. Moving and going back to school this next week so a lot to do. But I promise, this will continue. So, if you're still with me and not too mad, please review and let me know how everyone's doing. Again, sorry! And enjoy!
Chapter 14:
A timid person is frightened before a danger, a coward during the time, and a courageous person afterward.
Jean Paul Richter (1763 - 1825)
The semi-automatic weapon waved through the air, threatening anyone that stepped free of their police sedan. Orders were still being shouted to the man, but he wasn't listening. His face was filled with a crazed smile as he flashed a look over the area. The glazed eyes were filled with blood lust.
Warrick carefully and slowly opened the door to the truck, trying to not make any noise in the process. It was an irrational thought, but he still wanted to take every caution possible. His feet hit the ground with a loud thud that seemed to echo through his brain. Warrick winced, but forced himself fully out of the truck.
His eyes were wide as he watched the man. The same man that had hurt them, hurt Nick. Now he was standing in the middle of this street. And Warrick could now see the girl being held in his other hand. Concern and anger washed over him in waves.
She was young, red hair. Her eyes were wide, mouth gaping open with deep breaths. Warrick could see she was in pain, but couldn't tell from what. Her tiny white tank was turning pink from back to front. With every move the man took, her body shook and jerked in his grasp. Soft cries, whimpers escaped her throat. Her lips opened in silent pleas for help, a savior.
"Put the gun down! Let the girl go!"
"Hands in the air!"
The man looked almost the same as before. His hair was a little different, longer, but he was still as tall as Warrick could remember and with the same thickness in muscle. A tan hid the scars that Warrick was sure had been there. And now he had another victim in his hands.
"Let the girl go!"
"Drop the gun!"
It seemed that Shaun had finally had enough of the orders and aimed the gun at the cars that were trying to surround him. Several rounds of bullets thundered from the gun, pounding into the cement and steel of cars.
Warrick and Greg dropped to the ground. Greg tried to hide the best he could behind the tire, scared out his skin. Small pieces of pavement showered the taller CSI as he pressed himself into the side of the truck.
The shooting stopped and again, the police began yelling their instructions to the tall man. Shaun only smiled more, laugher loud. His grip on the girl tightened as he took a couple steps backwards. There was no car, nothing, but a fence behind him. No where he could go in that direction.
Before he knew what he was doing, Warrick stood to his feet and left the safety of his truck. He could hear Greg hissing at him to get down, but couldn't. His shoulders squared, chin high in defiance as he walked right up to the row of sedans. The act was enough to catch Shaun's attention.
He could tell the manic remembered who he was. The eyes went sinister under the dark brow, lips forming a warning sneer. Warrick watched as he gestured the gun at him in sort of a 'fuck-you' gesture. Several cops got jumpy with that.
"Stay still boys. No need to get jumpy," Warrick said with more confidence than he had thought he would be able to pull off at that moment.
Suddenly Vartann materialized from out of no where at his left side, "Brown, you're not qualified to deal with this situation. Get back, now."
"I know this guy."
This comment didn't seem to impress the detective at all, "I know."
"Huh?" Wide green eyes swiveled away from the man and the large gun.
"We found his information at the church. Knew he was part of that damn sick game. And its part of the reason you shouldn't be out here right now."
"Huh."
Warrick was at an odd loss of words. Suddenly he felt even more sympathy for Nick and understood how it felt when everyone else knew everything about you and what had happened. It wasn't something he would admit he enjoyed all that much. Sometimes secrets were best.
"Get back before I have to make you, Warrick."
"Wait!"
Both men looked up at the shout they received under the shrill scream of the red headed girl. Shaun was looking at them intently and nothing about his look was enjoyable.
"I want him, in here now. No one else."
Warrick looked up to see the gun pointed right in his direction. He did notice, much to his relief, that the trigger wasn't covered at that moment. Looking right into the other man's eyes, Warrick shifted so he was facing him more fully.
"I don't think so Warrick," Vartann grabbed his wrist in a tight grip.
"Either you send him to me now or you'll be wearing her brains."
The girl was given a hard shake at the end of the comment, causing her to groan deeply in pain. She wasn't struggling against his grip as much anymore. Warrick knew she didn't have a long time for this to play out.
"It'll be fine. Just cover me. Oh, and watch Greg for me."
He could see the struggle in the detective's eyes, but Vartann did let go. Warrick gave him a small smile before taking a couple of steps forward.
"No, Warrick!"
Greg's voice cried out and Warrick felt himself stop in his tracks. He turned his upper body so he could look at the younger man. Vartann was doing his best at holding the newest CSI back, but Greg was doing a pretty good job at squirming to get free.
"Warrick! Don't!"
"Its okay, Greggo. Just wait for me."
It wasn't enough for Greg to back off, but enough to make him go limp in Vartann's arms. Warrick nodded before turning back to the maniac with the gun. The weapon was still pointed in his direction. And the girl's wide eyes were boring into his when he looked at her.
"You coming or what?" Shaun sneered at him.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't get all up in a twist."
Warrick tried to play it cool and calm, but he was breaking apart inside. His feet carried his body on their own accord and before too lone, he was only a few feet from the gun and the madness. It was chilling.
"So, I see you didn't die. Such a shame. Thought the old guy did enough to make it work."
"Yeah, well, not everything goes according to plan," Warrick ignored looked at Shaun. He was just trying to figure out how he had hurt the girl. And the other man took notice.
"Oh, you guys stopped me before it got good. Only the shot to the back so far. But, it's enough."
"Would have never thought of you as smart enough to be able to do something like this all on your own. Seem to remember the last time, you took the orders."
With that, Warrick managed to make the guy with the guy even more pissed off, "And now, it gonna be your turn. I let her go, but you come with. And no shit."
It wasn't what Warrick had been expecting. And from the protests and shouts from behind him, no one else liked the idea either. But the pleading eyes from the girl twisted his insides up. She reminded him of Tina in a way and if she were in this position, he would have handed himself over already.
"So, we have a deal? You for her and no cops. We leave together and no one follows," Shaun smirked, "I have no problem putting a bullet in the back of your head."
Warrick turned everything around in his head. He never would have gotten out of bed if he knew this was on the day's list of events. The tour director from hell must have had a good laugh over this one.
"She isn't to be harmed anymore.'
"Warrick! Don't do this! Walk away," Vartann shouted over the other officers and Greg's scared voice.
The tall CSI blocked everything out except for the man in front of him. He knew how this guy worked. And if, IF, this all worked, they might get ahead in the case. Warrick wasn't about to think about the results of this at that moment.
"Let her go. She walks over there, then I come with. We walk out of here."
Shaun studied him for a moment. It appeared the man was trying to figure out if his deal was actually being accepted. And the smile he finally gave was enough for Warrick.
"Alright sweetheart," he whispered in the girl's ear, lips brushing the outer shell, "Looks like your knight is here and saving you. Walk."
He shoved her forward and caused her to stumble. Small hands reached up and pressed against the flat stomach. Warrick gave her a small grin when she looked into his green eyes again. He could see the fear and concern, all for him, there. But he pushed it away and looked back at Shaun.
There was scrambling from behind him, more shouts. Shaun's eyes flickered around, no doubt following the girl's movements. The gun bobbed as he waited.
"No you, come on. We have to get going. You tell them to stay put or I'll have to shoot you right here in front of them."
"You die if you do that," Warrick stood to his full height and put his heart back into place.
"And?"
The dead voice, completely void of any emotion, scared Warrick even more. This man in front of him didn't care if he died or not. He would be glad to die if he could kill Warrick right then and there. Nothing was going to stop him from either leaving with Warrick or dying on the street right behind the CSI.
Squaring his shoulders and sending up a silent plea, Warrick turned to face the people behind him. He could see the small group huddled around the girl, trying to help her as much as they could before the paramedics arrived. And then he noticed Greg and Vartann hadn't moved much from their spot either.
A poke in the back with the gun's muzzle opened his mouth, "I'm going with. Don't follow."
There was a hand on his wrist, pulling his weight backwards, away from the familiar red and blue. Warrick kept his green eyes locked on Greg's, hoping to get his message across as he was pulled along. They moved along the fence, to the right.
"You know. This worked out even better than we could have hoped for."
"We?"
"Oh yes, of course. You know we don't do it alone. Same as last time. Well, sort of."
There was a van waiting for them. It was a dark colored mini-van, typical Dodge style. Nothing stood out about it. Anyone could own the damn thing.
"Your chariot, sir," Shaun mocked as the side door opened.
Again, fate seemed to work against Warrick and his body reacted. It froze, heels trying to bury deep into the asphalt of the street.
"This isn't the girl?"
"Nah, but I thought this one was much better."
A wrinkled hand reached out and patted Warrick on the cheek before pulling to give a firm slap, "Now that I have one, another wouldn't hurt. Ready to make a call to Mr. Stokes?"
Warrick started to struggle, but soon lost hold of everything. The hilt of the semi-automatic gun was enough to shatter his exist in the world of the conscious. He didn't feel the hands lifting him into the van or see the eyes studying the street for someone that might have followed. And he certainly didn't feel the vehicle drive away.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Greg couldn't figure out what to do. His world had just fallen apart, again. No one seemed safe anymore. Now Warrick was gone with the guy with the gun.
He turned to look at where they had dropped the girl to the ground. She had been shot in the lower back. Her death would have been soon, with a bullet in the back of the neck. No one seemed to be able to get her to talk. She only cried.
Not that Greg blamed her at all. He felt like doing the same thing. Vartann was still next to him, but on the phone. Greg couldn't hear what the detective was saying over the buzzing that had settled into his brain.
In his short career as a CSI, too many things had happened, gone wrong. Sure, things had happened before, but not to this extent. Now he had just watched Warrick walk off, probably to his death. It scared the shit out of him.
"Greg. Sanders!" Vartann waved a hand before the young man's nose.
It caused the younger man to jump, "Huh? What?"
"Just got off the phone with Brass. We need to get back to the station, now. Grissom will be waiting as well."
"Alright," Greg tried to get his feet to move, but they remained where they were. He looked down at them as if he had never seen them before in his life. It was the small push from Vartann that got him moving.
He allowed himself to be directed towards the waiting police sedan. Greg wanted to say something about the SUV, but couldn't get the words out. Getting in the passenger seat, he let his head make contact with cool glass of the window. He was suddenly tired.
The other door opened, closed. The car was put into reverse. They were leaving the scene to the other officers, to day shift. Once again graveyard was too involved.
Greg didn't bother to fight the closing of his eyelids as they drove away.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Ringing invaded his dreams. Nick almost screamed to hear the phone. He was supposed to be on a mini vacation and yet the phone was ringing at him, demanding his attention. But he didn't stop himself from reaching over and grabbing it up. He had totally forgotten to unplug his house phone before hiding in his bedroom.
"Hello?"
There wasn't a voice. It was silent. Nick sat up on his free elbow, face frowning, "Hello? Anyone there?"
Still nothing. With a huff of breath, Nick turned the connection off with the press of the talk button and set the phone back in its cradle on the night table. Suddenly awake, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. When he placed his feet on the ground, something crinkled under his weight.
Nick reached down and picked the note up off the carpet. He had reread it many times before falling asleep with unpleasant thoughts. Surprisingly there had been no nightmares, well ones he could remember.
But he didn't feel rested. Nick glanced at the clock and figured he had been out for a little over an hour. It wasn't that impressive. His body wanted more, but his brain was firing away.
Taking a deep breath, Nick rubbed his right hand over his face, his cheek. His skin was warm under his fingers, the slight stubble harsh in contrast. Both eyes shut as a yawn erupted from his lungs. The phone started to ring again.
Reaching over with a groan, Nick tried a more professional approach to his answer, "Stokes."
He waited for an answer, a question, anything. Just silence again.
"Anyone there? Hello? Hello?"
Shaking his head, Nick hung it up and rested the cool phone against the warmth of his thigh. His sleeping shorts had ridden up, but Nick was unconcerned about it at that moment. Something didn't feel right. In his body and in this room.
He looked at the white paper again, reading memorized words. It was an odd thing for her to do. Nick really wanted to get in touch with her and ask her about it in person. He felt they both needed to speak to each other, face to face. There might be more healing from something like that.
The phone went off again, muffled by his flesh. Nick glared at if for a moment before answering it this time, "Hello?"
His voice was hard and cold. And when no one talked, he lost whatever cool he had control over, "Look here asshole. Either you say something or leave me the hell alone."
"Nick?"
The voice brought him up short. His breathing quickened a little as he pressed the phone tighter to his ear. It didn't seem possible that this was happening. Something was off in the voice, a fear of some sort.
"Yeah?"
There was a pause, a deep breath, "I need you to come to me. There's something you need to see, to help me with."
Nick didn't wait for much more before he was on his feet, searching for a pair of jeans, "Okay, where are you? What happened?"
"I can't say now, not over the phone. Just need you to come."
"Alright, going to be alright. Just tell me where you are."
"Just come to the Flamingo. I'm there."
"Are you alone?"
"Not now, not over the phone," the answer was hushed more, mumbled.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Just…don't worry, okay?"
"Alright Nick."
"Just hold on Kelly."
And Nick slammed the phone down and left his bedroom, car keys in his hand.
TBC…