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, 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: Alright, another chapter I don't really like, but felt it necessary to do. Hope you all like it. For those Warrick fans, this one is for you! Not that I'm sure y'all will be too happy about it. But, we get a little farther, a little deeper. More steps upon steps. Hope you all enjoy! Review and let me know. See ya later.
Chapter 17:
"Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is."
---- German Proverb
Sixty two days earlier, the lost man…
The hands pulled at his arms, the hood. A smelly palm smashed his nose back into his head, plastering his dark flesh hard across his features under the hood. It made it all hard to breathe, but he wouldn't let them onto that fact. Fuck that idea.
Warrick tried to toss his head away from the hand, but there was another there, slapping the back of his skull. His teeth clanked together the best they could around the cloth in his mouth. A dull thudding was taking up residence in his brain under the assault. And it was pissing him off that he couldn't see where he was being taken to.
His feet were forced to move, take steps. They led him to where they wanted, nothing he could do about it. But he could feel that the temperature was getting cooler the farther they lead him. Warrick couldn't tell if it had been the length of a room or a football field. All he knew is that he wasn't happy about this, one bit.
Two large hands pressed down on his shoulders, causing his knees to buckle out from underneath him. Warrick clenched his teeth around the gag, trying to pierce the cloth with his teeth. It was an odd sensation, falling backwards without sight and muffled sound.
The back of his thighs hit the chair hard. His body weight caused it to rock onto the two back legs for a moment, almost sending him to the ground when it corrected itself. More hands held him into place. Something wrapped around his chest, tight enough to keep him from fully expanding his lungs. But the hood was ripped off his head with little fashion.
Green eyes were quickly covered by lids at the bright light they were suddenly exposed to. Warrick groaned the best he could at the painful sensation. There was still too much brightness even behind the closed lids. His pupils were fighting for the correct dilation for opening.
He cracked them, holding in his moan as he tried to adjust enough to be able to see. It took awhile, too long for his liking before he was able to make anything out in the room. And he could now see the two very large lights pointed right in his direction. Warrick couldn't see much past their strong bulbs.
Both were set up by a steel stand. It was a hazy gray around them, but he could make out large shapes moving in the shadows. And from what had happened just moments earlier, they were part of the hands that had mauled him into this room. Warrick really didn't want to see the faces that went along with them.
A black blob moved in quickly to his left. Before he could stop himself, Warrick jerked strongly to the right. Noises sounded, much like laughter, but he didn't allow much thought on that. He was too busy trying to make out whatever it was the moved at him.
Warrick should have known that Shaun would have to show his face like that, white smile reflecting the light. It was enough proof for the CSI to say the man had a bad experience with at home tooth whiteners. No one should have teeth that could act like reflectors.
Shaun leaned down, enough that Warrick could feel his sticky breath on his cheek, "So CSI boy. Wha' ya gonna do this time? Huh? No one to save ya."
The man reached over with his hand and before Warrick could even think to move, it was smashed across his face. It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out who had done it earlier. But now Warrick could feel the sweat, smell something was close to a really bad mold problem. He gagged the best he could around his gag.
"Yeah, I could kill ya like this! You'd die with my big hand right in your face. I could think of another way to suffocate ya, but the boss has issues with that sort of thing. But maybe…once the boss has what he wants, I'll get something for m'self. Ya like that idea?"
Warrick stiffened once he realized what the other man was saying. It was two things in that little speech that scared him. First, yeah the idea of what else the man wanted to use to take away his air supply was troubling him. Only a few things that could do such a thing and from the sound of that gravely voice, Warrick could think of one thing for certain.
But the second thing was about the boss. And from what he could remember of that old bastard, Warrick knew what he would want. There was no way in hell he would give that man what he wanted.
"Now, I'm gonna take that gag out of your mouth. You speak, I get to beat on ya. Your choice on that matter, boy."
Shaun pulled his hand away from Warrick's face slowly, fingers lingering a little too long on his flesh. The man leered at him as he worked his thick fingers between the cloth of the gag and his skin. Warrick gladly opened his mouth to have the gag removed.
His mouth was sticky as he smacked his tongue against the surface of his teeth. There was a film across his lips, making them tight. Saliva seemed to be a foreign concept, hard to produce. Warrick coughed a little, head dropping forward to help shield his eyes a little from the bright lights.
"Ah, I don't think the CSI can take it," Shaun laughed as he slapped Warrick hard on his left shoulder. The wall of a man walked off, out of sight behind the lights.
Not heeding any warning that he was given, Warrick began to speak, "Who the hell? Where are we?"
"So may questions, Mr. Brown. You of all people should know those aren't necessary here. You'll learn everything that is needed in enough time. I don't understand the point in having to speed it up. All in due time."
"Fuck you," Warrick snarled at that voice that he wanted to forget so long ago.
"Even alone you show no fear," the voice moved closer, "But you're not what I want. And I have a feeling you understand that fact. Of course, I won't pass up on serving you with the justice you got out of."
"Still screwing around with your stupid gods? Or did you finally figure out your full of complete shit?"
"Oh, there are bigger things out there than you and I, but I must admit. This has little to do with them anymore. Now, it's a lot more personal."
The shape got closer and Warrick had to blink a couple of times, but Jacob Tenner looked pretty much the same now as back then. There was a lot more gray in the brown hair and a few more wrinkles etched into his face, but the craziness was the same.
"You and I have a destiny, Mr. Brown. It would be easier if you would just accept it and stop fighting me. I will win in the end."
"Oh, and what end will that be?"
"Your death of course. But not first. Never first. I have another I want to humble to his knees to me before you. You're too strong with him around anyways."
Warrick snarled at the man, pulling his weight against his restraints, "You'll never get him. He won't come here for you."
"Oh, not me," Tenner smiled and leaned back on his heels, "But for you, I'm sure he'll come running as fast as his feet will carry him."
"I won't give him to you. You'll have to kill me before I allow you to touch him again."
"You think I want to touch him? Oh no. Shaun would be more interested in that. I just want to kill him. Simple."
Tenner watched the man's features. He could see the fear, the anger behind those green eyes. Warrick's pupils were swollen, but not enough that Tenner couldn't see the threat being given to him. But he would have what he wanted. No one would get in his way.
"You'll bring him here. He will come, for you."
The CSI turned his chin up in defiance, glaring the best he could in his half state of blindness. He could see people moving around more as his eyes got more and more adjusted to their latest conditions. Warrick could only watch as the smile on Tenner's face got bigger.
"You think I can't get you to call him?"
"No I don't. I won't call him. You won't have him. Might as well kill me first."
"I'll make you take that back and more. You'll be sorry, Mr. Brown. It could have been simple. But you made it hard. You have no one to blame except for yourself," Tenner grinned as he stepped back to allow the four other men to step forward. And the old man really couldn't tell what glinted from the lights in two of the men's hands.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
The trace lab was slow. No one was bringing him anything new to work on. There were plenty of cases going on, but nothing new to work with. Graveyard was officially dismantled.
David Hodges sighed and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. The steel table under his elbow felt cool through the cloth of his shirt, but he paid it little mind. His eyes were watching any and all movement that was occurring out in the hallway. From what he heard, Catherine and Grissom were yet to arrive since the information of Warrick missing got out.
Ecklie walked past the open trace door, "Nothing to do?"
"Oh always something to do. Just have to wait for the CSI's to bring me something new," Hodges mumbled.
"I'm sure dayshift left you something. Just because the night crew is not currently working doesn't mean there isn't left to solve."
"No doubt about that," Hodges shifted up, straightening out his back, "But I would like to keep an empty basket for anything that might come in about the whereabouts of Warrick."
Ecklie frowned and turned to walk away, "Yes, because heaven forbid the rest of us move on because of his stupid actions.
It took all his power not to respond to that as the director of the lab walked away. Hodges could have jumped all over that one, taking the man to the cleaners. Everyone was well aware of what Ecklie had done with that girl, with the personal information of the lab. No one would hold Ecklie clean from this if something horrible did happen.
Smacking his lips together, Hodges turned in his chair to look for something he might be able to go over for a third time. But the movement in the hallway caught his attention. Grissom and Catherine were back in the building. And they didn't look happy one bit.
Hodges kept himself in the room, mouth closed. Neither CSI glanced at him as the walked past the door. And he didn't try to get any of their attention. Now wasn't a time to be a kiss ass.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Captain Brass parked his sedan in the quiet driveway. Glancing up and down the street, he was well aware of what a quiet neighborhood this was. Nick had done well for himself by moving into this area. Even after what Crane had done to him hadn't forced the younger man to move away from this.
On the way over, Jim had tried to call Nick, but didn't have any luck getting an answer. Nothing went through on the cell phone and he got the voice box on the home phone. It didn't really worry him. Nick had been sent home to rest. Turning off the phones was the best way to help that goal.
The windows were closed off by blinds and curtains. Jim couldn't see in as he walked towards the front door. He frowned at the large key pad for the top of line security that was installed. It was almost scary because it was true proof on how safe Nick needed to feel in his own home.
His knuckles rapped hard against the wooden door. Jim had to tell himself not to hop from foot to foot like a little kid as he waited. Knowing that Nick's room wasn't that close to the door and the man might be asleep, Jim knew to wait for a little bit.
Ten seconds seemed to be enough time to wait and Jim was pounding on the door a little harder. Heaving a breath, Jim leaned closer to the door, "Nick? You in there?"
It was too much time. Nick might be asleep, but he was never this slow before. Jim decided to move his pounding to the back door.
The grass crunched under his feet as he moved quickly around the corner of the house. He could see the cement patio, without anything on it other than a large grill. True man's backyard. And the door closer to the man's bedroom was back here.
Jim reached it and pounded straight onto the glass, "Nick! Hey, wake up."
He tried to squint through the blinds, but couldn't see anything except darkness. No lights were on that he could tell. And there weren't any sounds of movement.
Thinking quickly to himself, Jim tried to remember if Nick had a spare key hidden somewhere. He was sure Warrick would know, but that didn't do him any good right then. Turning his head slowly to the right, Jim tried to look for something that a key might be under, in. His lips turned down as he tried to figure it out.
His phone going off stopped any more of his thoughts.
"Brass."
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Spitting out blood, Warrick shook his head to try to clear it. Things just got foggier. A groan escaped his lips and a tear slipped past his tightly closed eyelids.
"This didn't have to be this way," the voice was gentle, concerned, "All I need you to do is call him."
A finger touched his cheek, tracing the line that the tear took down to the corner of his mouth. He tried to pull away, but it caused his brain to swell even more against the bone of his skull. Tenner was almost caressing his cheek. It was unnerving.
"He can end all this pain for you. Just call him and talk to him."
"No," Warrick gasped out past his split lips. His entire upper body was on fire, face almost numb. They had worked hard on him with fists and some blunt object that he couldn't name. He was almost certain he had a couple of bruised ribs.
Tenner slapped the injured cheek harshly, "Why do you fight this? There is no reason for it."
"He's my brother. I won't do it," Warrick threatened as best he could in his condition. It hurt, but he would fight these bastards until the end if he had to.
"I'm going to get him with or without your help, Mr. Brown. You make me go after him on my own, I'm going to bring him back here and destroy him for your personal entertainment," Tenner almost seemed to purr in delight at the prospect, "And then I'll simply kill you when I'm done with him. You really want to watch him break and crumble? Or would you be kind enough to offer him a quicker death?"
More blood welled up under his tongue from some cut or loose tooth. Spitting it out, Warrick continued to shake his head. There was no deal in this he was going to take.
A hand gripped his chin hard, twisting up his jaw, "I only have a few more minutes. Then, I'm going to make that call to his cell phone from yours. Either you talk to him or I'll send someone to kill your wife. Your choice."
Warrick's head snapped up at the announcement of his wife. Anger swelled in his chest at the threat. These people shouldn't even know who Tina was. She was supposed to be safe from things like this.
"Stay away from her."
"I wouldn't have a problem leaving her completely alone. She is of little interest to me. But, if you're unwilling to cooperate, then…" Tenner just shrugged his shoulders a little.
"Why did you come back?"
A small smirk caused even more wrinkles to form around Tenner's mouth, "I've never been good at leaving unfinished business. And a former partner gave me a few pieces of information that was almost too good to be true. So, I came back. You just happened to walk right into my hands."
"I didn't walk to you at all," Warrick snarled.
"No, you didn't. But Shaun made a mistake. And instead of following procedure, he brought you here. Since it works out for the positive, he won't be made to suffer. You on the other hand…"
The older man turned to his left wrist and looked at his watch. A few glances and hand gestures were made, but Warrick couldn't follow any of them. The lights were beginning to melt his eyes and it was getting harder to really see anything more than a foot away from his face. Lines were getting fuzzy and the floor sloped downward.
Another pat on his cheek brought his attention back to Tenner, "Now, we're going to make the call. He's with a friend so things should work out just fine. All you need to do is talk to him. Nothing more. I'll answer his questions. You ready?"
Warrick wanted to protest when his cell phone was flipped open in Tenner's hand. He didn't remember when the man took it from him, but figured it mattered little. All he knew was the man was hunting for Nick's phone number.
"Ah, there he is. I'm sure you have him on speed dial, but I don't mind looking a little farther for it. Hm, two numbers. All I need is his cell phone."
A couple of finger pushes and Tenner was raising the phone up to his ear. Warrick couldn't describe the emotions that were welling up in his stomach. He knew fear, anger, and panic was present, but none were able to take the lead. It made him feel even sicker.
"Ah, its ringing. Good sign," Tenner nodded at Warrick as if they were old friends.
It was clear the other line was connected and there was a small, quick conversation. And from the control Tenner had in his voice, he wasn't talking with Nick.
"…Alright sweetheart, let me have him. You know what you have to do."
Something was wrong. This wasn't how kidnappers got their victims.
Tenner placed the phone against Warrick's cheek, "Speak to him. Let him know it's you. I'll do the rest."
Anything he was able to say to the man in front of him was cut off by that familiar voice coming through the phone, "Stokes."
Warrick's throat closed up, only heavy breaths escaping. His chest seemed to tighten and strain against his flesh. A cough erupted, causing him to groan out his pain. Nick was still there and very concerned by the sound of it.
"Hello? Who's there?"
His green eyes turned up to look at Tenner. The man was waiting to see what he was going to do. Warrick didn't know what to do. He didn't want this man to know about anything, to get anyone. Tina and Nick didn't need to go through this.
A punch came out of nowhere to the back of his head. Warrick drew in a quick breath, letting out another groan. Another punch came. His brain went blank, only the thought that Nick was close. Another hit, lower, more painful. Nick would help him.
"Ni…ick…" came without his permission against yet another hit to his tender head.
"Warrick! What the hell!"
The CSI shook his head, several tears running down his cheeks. His lips were pressed tight together. He knew he had made a mistake. Now he was going to see the consequences for it. Warrick wanted to scream, but didn't dare.
Two large shadows moved in. More hands were back. The rope around his body was gone and he was thrown forward onto the floor. Now the booted feet could get at him too. In the haze, he could see the phone was being held in his direction. Nick would hear it all.
"Warrick! Where are you?" Nick almost seemed to scream through the phone at him.
His harsh breathing came almost in gasps as the punishment stopped for a moment. They wanted him to be able to hear what was coming next. And he sure heard it clearly. That gunshot stopped his heart.
"Nick!"
Tenner smiled down at him, waving the other men to continue. Through the hail storm of fists and feet, Warrick could see Tenner take the phone and walk away. He couldn't see much, but he knew he had just handed Nick over to them.
There was no way in hell Nick was going to stay away now, that's if he wasn't already dead. Tenner had said someone was already with his friend. It was possible it was almost all over. He had heard the shot go off. Nick's head could have been the target. Warrick let himself fall under the pain they were giving him. Panic ate him alive along with the darkness.
All he heard was Tenner, "Now onto destiny…"
TBC…