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, this turned out to be a different chapter than I had planned on. Might mean there may be one or two more chapters needed to this story if I keep this up. Yikes, going to be sooo long! Ah well, sure you guys aren't going to complain too much. So, I really got behind in this chapter, wanted this up yesterday. But, bad weekend, bad job, and lots of homework reading…not a writer's friend. Next chapter will hopefully be up during the upcoming weekend. Oh yeah, please review! Until later!
Chapter 24:
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
-Albert Einstein
To say he was flabbergasted was not enough. Nick could feel his mouth opening and closing, but his vocal cords didn't even come close to making any sort of sound. Suddenly he felt all the more violated. It had been hard enough to know the entire lab watched his ordeal, but to know Tenner did as well was too much.
Nick had prided himself on the fact that he hadn't collapsed once he was freed from that prison. Sure, he had come close when all he could see was dark brown and all he could smell was compacted soil. But his CSI family had come and gotten him out, away.
Now he was here, hearing things that weren't making him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Tenner knew something Nick wanted to keep a secret, hidden from the rest of the world. Only people he trusted were welcome to that information. Not this manic in front of him, still holding onto his cheeks and smiling at him.
Trying to remove his head from the grip, Nick blinked rapidly to stop the formation of the tears coming to the surface. He wasn't going to give this man any more than he was forced to. Tears weren't going to save him. Nick was pretty sure they would be enough to condemn him for even longer.
A thumb moved upward and Nick could feel it moving softly against the skin directly under his right eye. Gasping a little, Nick knew that Tenner could see his inner battle. There was no keeping it locked up when he was forced to have such close contact with the man.
"You didn't know it. Nothing to beat yourself up for Nicky. I'm sure there are plenty of other things to feel bad about. Just don't worry about that one," Tenner spoke with the concern and care of a loving grandfather, thumb still stroking along Nick's skin.
"Now, I would like to get things moving now that they are going so well to begin with. You two made this all easier than I could have ever hoped for."
The two hands squeezed his face a little more, forcing his bottom lip to pucker up from his teeth. Nick leaned forward when the presence was completely gone, but he didn't have too much time to think about things. Strong hands had taken position under his arms, deep into his arm pits. He was pulled up and dropped down onto his own two feet.
A second chair was being brought out from the wall by a shorter cloaked figure. It was set up directly in front of his gagged best friend. Tenner stepped back a little, his right hand held out to the side in a gesture that meant Nick was supposed to move in that direction. The Texan hesitated enough to receive a shove in the back for his effort.
Nick walked steady, both feet planted fully on the ground with each right, left. His brown eyes met the concerned green ones. Giving a small, imperceptible nod, Nick sat in the chair. Once he was seated, Nick's knees collided and rested against Warrick's own. Both shoulders pulled uncomfortably as his weight pressed against his tied hands to the back of the chair.
"That can't be comfortable," Tenner mentioned as he moved closer, "Let's get that fixed, shan't we? Hmm?"
The man with the large arms, that Nick could now see was Shaun, moved closer. He was rough as he pushed Nick forward enough so he was forced a little to his feet. The rope wrapped around his wrists was grabbed and yanked backwards, taking the CSI with it. It was a hard angle and Nick gasped out at the pull as his arms were shoved over the back of the plastic chair. He was left alone once he was situated better.
"Alright, now, we have much to do. I fear I don't wish to take too much time, but at the same moment, I want it to last forever."
"And what would that be?" Nick asked, looking over Warrick at the same time for any other injuries that might be more sever than the couple of bruises."
"That's the problem with serial killing, you only have so much time before the pieces begin to fit together. I really would hate to lead your great Gil Grissom straight to me, but yet, have some more bodies that need to be added to the count."
Nick frowned and looked over at the older man, "So you were the one behind all those girls? Why?"
"Why not? Don't need to make things some complicated. Some things are just the way they are."
"Somehow I seriously doubt that this is one of those things. You have a reason for doing it. Just like you had a reason to get involved with Gordon."
"You think you're so smart, don't you? Well, it doesn't surprise me at all. You always were the slower one that had to talk everything out. I remember that from the last time, when I got to read your personal file. Was a complaint from one of your coworkers. If you play nicely I might just give you a hint as to who it was later."
"There's always a reason for everything someone does," Nick shook his head, "But I guess you think you're above that and don't need anything. Just proves you are insane."
The widening in Warrick's eyes showed the displeasure that Nick was egging the man on. But Nick was sick of this already and wasn't about to play along nicely. He was going to do whatever he could to get out of there all the faster. And they were both going to keep their heads on their shoulders doing it.
"I would have to beg to differ. There is no such thing as insanity. Only the unrealized ideas of the so-called sane. Those are the things that become insane to normal society. I just live above those standards and what I do is too advanced for mere mortals to understand."
Everything about this conversation was sending off warning bells in Nick's head. It sounded like they were discussing what items needed to be added to the weekly grocery list. Nick didn't like the calm exterior Tenner suddenly had adopted. The man seemed too controlled for what he was doing to them. He was clearly insane.
And it also appeared that the older man wasn't sick of hearing the sound of his own voice yet, "I do realize the need for good help as well, as you should be able to see quite well for yourself. These are my loyal followers, many from before. I never completely went away, just under your…radar."
"But you got away. What's the point in coming back and coming at us? You could have gone to some foreign country and harassed the people there."
"Oh, yes, I could have. But even a man such as myself has his pride. And I wasn't about to be run out of town because of a damn cop such as yourself," Tenner huffed out by the end of his sentence. His face was getting a little red in the cheeks with his anger.
Nick took the pleading look that Warrick was giving him into consideration and didn't say another word. He leaned back against the plastic of the chair, his legs loose in front of him. Warrick had maneuvered it so their knees were in full contact, the only they could have right then. It helped to ground Nick and prove to him he wasn't in this alone.
"Shaun, I want him secured to that chair. Make sure he can't move. We have some work to do. I want two more girls killed before this day is over. And I'm in the mood for Asian today."
The wall of a man nodded his head and moved out of the room. A couple of the other cloaked figures moved with him. Nick watched them go through squinted eyes before looking at Tenner, "Which one removes their shoes?"
It stunned the man, "What?"
"After they kill them, who takes off their shoes?"
"Their shoes? What are you talking about?"
Chuckling, Nick raised an eyebrow to the confused man, "So, you don't know everything there is to know about your men. Interesting to know."
"Well, it's not like it matters anyways. As long as they kill the girls when they go out. I don't really care about what they do with their footwear."
But it was clear to both CSI's that it did bother the man. It was something he didn't include in the plans for the murders. Tenner wasn't in control of his people as much as he thought he was. Nick had to admit it was a slightly encouraging thought. There were holes that they may be able to make bigger to buy more time in this mess.
"What is in the plan to kill the girls?" Nick asked shooting a look over at Warrick. The other man had given up on trying to get loose and was simply sitting, watching what was happening with his speech granted friend. If he could have, he would have helped Nick torment the man, but could only encourage him through silent thoughts.
"All in due time Nicky. For now, I have things that need to be made ready. Besides, I'm sure you would like to talk with your friend and figure out a way to get free. I wouldn't wish to take that away from you."
Two cloak figures merged from the shadows and reached out for the two lamps that had been turned off. Each was flipped back on and Nick had to close his eyes against the added brightness in the room. He couldn't image how Warrick managed not to freak out with that blaring in his face. Of course, Warrick didn't have any other memories to make the lights even worse.
Tenner smiled and didn't say another word. He simply turned with a slight squeak of his shoes. Everyone moved after him through the door. Nick watched them until the door was pulled closed behind the last cloaked member. He licked his lips as he turned to look at Warrick.
"So, any bright ideas on how to do this talking thing?"
Glaring at him the best he could over the gag, Warrick threw his right knee hard into Nick's. Sometimes he really didn't get the Texan's sense of humor and didn't see the need for that joke at all, as lame as it was. He just really wished he had the ability to tell Nick that he was the lamest white boy he knew.
Nick shrugged a little, "No? Alright. I'll keep us both company then."
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Greg walked slowly, eyes downward. He didn't really want to talk to anyone. All he wanted was a cup of coffee. And he has just replenished his stash. That bonus on his last check had helped out and now he could get some more of the good stuff. But he wasn't about to tell anyone else about it. He would just make up something to cover up the smell, new cologne or something like that.
The break room was only ten paces, then a turn, twenty more paces. He had it all figured out. Greg was almost to the AV room. That was close to the coffee machine. Only hoped that no one tried to make the daily sludge yet so he could start with a nice, clean pot.
Loud footsteps were coming in his direction. From the sound, woman's shoes. And then a scrambling of rubber soles after them. Greg didn't bother to look up until he was brushed by something golden, then pushed by something stockier.
"Whoa, sorry Greg!" Sam threw over his shoulder as he moved after Catherine.
Greg's forehead crinkled into a frown, his head turned to the right just a little bit. The frown disappeared into a curious look and he changed his direction. He could wait on the coffee until he knew what was going on.
His eyes widened when he saw exactly where Catherine was storming off to. And from the lights and closed door, Ecklie was in his office. Greg couldn't help, but to grin a little bit now. Something good was about to go down. He moved closer.
"Catherine!" Sam tried to grab at her arm, "Just slow down. What are you planning on doing here?"
"Don't try and stop me!"
Licking at his teeth, Greg's eyebrows rose in amusement. He knew that tone all to well. Hell, he had heard it from the blonde CSI only a short time ago at the hospital. Catherine was going to rip Ecklie a big 'ol new one.
Her fist looked small as it rose to pound on the wood, "Conrad!"
Choosing to hold back a little, Greg leaned against the doorway of a closed closet. He was close enough to hear a mumbled reply through the wood of the door, but not exactly what was said. All he really could hear were Sam's pleas that she not do anything rash right now.
The door swung open and Ecklie stood directly in the middle of the threshold. He looked tired and angry. Angry that someone had the nerve to knock on his office door like he wasn't the director or something. Greg couldn't help, but to grin even more. He knew the man would be nothing more than toast soon.
"What can I do for you Catherine?"
"What is this I hear about you going down to the morgue and nosing in a case that isn't even yours?"
Ecklie stood tall and looked down at Catherine like he couldn't believe he had to deal with this right then, "I'm the director of the lab. It's my job to inspect other cases and keep on top of how things are being done here. And I don't think I have to answer to you by any means."
Greg really wished he had taken cover. He could see the set lines in Catherine's face even from the distance he had placed himself at. This was about to be World War III right there in the crime lab. Only two people for the two sides. And Greg was putting all his money on Catherine. He should have just kept going and gotten his damn coffee.
"So you really thought Nick had anything to do with that bullet Kelly put in her own head? I know you make Robbins do a homicide scope on the body. And I want to know why."
"Well, I'm assuming since you know what I asked performed in the morgue in the lab that I run, I'll assume you really know what led me to that. And there is nothing wrong with it. It was justified."
Catherine's body leaned back a little as if she had been pushed, "Justified? From what? What happened before, which was by no means his fault. He was cleared. This is almost as good as double jeopardy."
"You would stand up for Stokes, wouldn't you," Ecklie crossed his arms across his chest, "He was never the best one for the job, yet all of you graveyards CSI's have stood up for him and demanded special treatment for him. It's a never ending story with the man. It would easier to have him taken out of this lab."
That was not the right thing to say. Greg knew that. He couldn't see how that man could have been so stupid to think he could just go off at Catherine like that. And from looking at Sam, the detective was thinking the same thing. Under his own anger, of course.
"Nick is a valuable member to the team! He has done a great deal for this lab over the past years and we need him. You tried to split us up once and we all see how that worked out."
"Yes, and at the fault of Stokes! I'm glad you are beginning to see things my way."
Greg had to press his lips tightly together at that moment to stop the laugh from escaping. He was seriously impressed in the hole the lab director seemed to be able to bury himself in. The man was going to go where no one had been to before. And the newest graveyard CSI was ready to see it.
"If your thinking what I know you are, I would recommend you stop that thought train right there Conrad. Nick and Warrick are missing right now. You could at least pretend like you care about them and getting them back," Catherine placed her hands on her hips and threw her blonde hair over her shoulder.
"The lab doesn't have all the resources in the world, Catherine. We just can't spend all our time running after CSI's that are stupid enough to get into trouble. There are real crimes to work on."
It suddenly went really quiet in the lab. Greg's own breathing suddenly sounded like a monsoon to his own ears. But he kept his eyes wide and plastered on the three figures in front of him. Sam looked like he wanted to jump off a bridge.
Catherine's face deformed into a sneer and her right hand extended to poke at Ecklie in the chest, "You're the reason this guy is after them in the first place. You let that woman in the lab to take personal files! And know your acting like their nothing more than throwaways."
"I don't appreciate having to take this. Now, I have other work to get to. In case you haven't been paying attention, there have been several murders happening around the city that need some of my attention."
The director barely moved before Catherine's fist smashed into his face. It didn't impact like Greg was hoping, but it was enough to rock Ecklie back onto his heels. And from the way his hands flew up to his face, it hurt a hell of a lot more than it looked from his position. But Greg couldn't help being totally happy and elated, while at the same time shocked. He never had seen Catherine resort to physical violence before. Greg kind of liked it.
She stormed off against with the sound of heavy shoe clashes. Ecklie didn't yell after her, only turned and went back into his office, door slamming shut. The sound of the mad CSI was quickly vanishing away with the echoes of the hallway.
Sam threw Greg a look, shoulders and hands up in a shrug, "Why couldn't this have been a normal day? Ya know, nothing more than psycho homicides and crazy drug parties."
Soon Greg was alone, still leaning against the doorway. He pushed himself off, turned on his heels to face in the other direction. A small grin remained on his face, a hummed song making its way out of his throat. That coffee would be even better now.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
"You think Dallas has it in 'em this year? I mean, they might be able to improve their passing game to get it into the end zone some more. Of course, Indianapolis is looking good with that damn quarterback. Still think the guy is on steroids or something."
No response.
"Of course, it's still pretty early in the season. Lot's of stuff might happen. I mean, who would have thought Seattle would have gotten up there. That team might not be too shabby in the end. Not going to put much in on 'em, but might be worth watching. Just in case we get that fantasy football thing going."
A muffled mumble.
"I mean, that might be fun. Wouldn't have to use money on it or anything. Just pick the players, watch the games. See who the best is when it comes to scouting. I dunno, I think we should do it. Might teach Greggo a thing or two if we did it. Swear the guy still doesn't know what holding means."
Deep throated laughter, halted from the gag.
"I don't know about you Warrick," Nick licked his lips, "But I'm sick of talking. It's had to of been at least a half hour. I don't talk this much, man. Starting to think I could hang out with the girls at this rate. Keep up with their gossiping then."
Warrick just shook his head. He had listened to Nick talk no stop about the most random crap for who knows how long. It had been amusing. He would have never thought the Texan knew that much stuff to just ramble off like that at such little notice. Only think he had been most thankful for was when Nick finally dropped the bird stuff and got onto football.
His mouth was dry. The top of his mouth didn't have any more feeling to it. Hell, Warrick wouldn't doubt someone if they told him it wasn't even there anymore. And his nose was really beginning to itch. There was something tickling at it constantly. It was driving him crazy.
"What do you think our chances are?"
It was quiet, totally un-Nick like. And after all the rambling he had done in his normal, conversational voice, it was like a child's whisper. Warrick really wished there was something he could say clearing. He had tried to mumbled things around the gag and his thick tongue. It wasn't an option. Besides, he wasn't drooling all over himself.
"I think we might really die here. I don't think we can get out of this one. No one knows where I am. Hell, they probably just figured out I took off. Well, maybe not just, but not early enough."
Warrick shook his head, mumbled a little. It wasn't enough to get Nick's attention. The other CSI was studying the spot where their knees met. The taller man tried to jiggle the other man's leg, but Nick didn't catch on at all.
"I don't think I want to die here."
Taking a deep breath through his nose, Warrick slammed his knee hard into Nick's. The other man looked at him with deer-in-a-headlight eyes. He rolled his own green eyes and then slammed a glare at Nick.
"What? You think this is easy for me? Huh? Well, it's not. So sorry for thinking on the pessimistic side of things. Didn't realize I always had to be light and happy for you guys all the time. Reliable old Nick, happy no matter what. Bullshit," Nick turned to look somewhere off to the right, squinting against the lights.
Frowning, Warrick began to wonder how long that one had been building up. He knew Nick was never going to be the same after what Gordon had done, but he hadn't lost that optimism that had gotten him through the job. It scared him a little to think of Nick losing it for good. Warrick needed that from the other man as much as his friendship.
"I don't get it. What's wrong with knowing I'm going to die and not wanting to? I mean, I've held a gun to my chin, ready to blow my own head off. Big deal. I've just seen two different people do it. Doesn't look as painful as TV and books make it out to be. Quick and sudden. Just a quick little pull with one finger, simple."
Warrick slammed Nick's knee again and made some angry noises in his throat. That wasn't something he was going to listen to.
"Yeah, yeah. Can't talk about death," Nick forced a chummy smiled onto his face, dimples too deep to be even close to real, "So what? Want to talk about how we're going to Maguiver our asses out of here? Sorry, but I didn't bring the toothpick with me today. Forgot it back with the used toilet paper roll."
He wanted nothing more than to get out that chair. Not to get away right at that moment, but to kick Nick's ass back into reality. It was obviously not a good thing to let Nick talk to himself for so long, even if the man was talking at someone else.
And the lights were beginning to really piss him off as well. Warrick was sure his corneas were permanently shrunk down to minimum. There would be going to the clubs for him anymore. He wouldn't be able to see the beer in his hand right in front of his face after this one.
"So, you think Chicago might go all the way this year? Might make for an interesting Super Bowl. Chicago against the Broncos? Hmm, interesting…"
Warrick rolled his eyes at the sudden shift in the other man. He wouldn't need Tenner to kill him anymore. Nick was going to manage it all on his own. His brain was going to explode in his head.
TBC…