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: Here's some more for everyone. Hope you all enjoy it. More to come soon! Bye!
Chapter 28:
Unhappy the land that needs heroes.
-Bertolt Brecht
The air conditioning was turned up as far as it would go. Grissom wrapped his arms around himself, crossing tight over his chest. He leaned back in the hard backed chair, keeping his eyes locked at the man across the table. Sighing, Grissom settled in to wait.
Shaun had his hands handcuffed in front of him, resting down on the table surface. His eyes were careless, void of any emotion. It looked as if he were simply waiting to get seen by his dentist or something as menial. But it wasn't all that impressive. Brass had seen better.
"So, you losing your touch or something? Almost getting caught. Then what do we know, you do. I have to say, I'd get a new guy if I were Tenner. You just ain't that good."
Grissom could see the man grit his teeth together, his jaw sticking out hard against his skin. This man would have made a gorilla run and hide. He was impressive in size and build. It was almost as scary as the last time the supervisor had seen him. But he seemed to luck out. Shaun didn't seem to remember who he was at all.
"You know, you can stay silent all you want. I can't make you talk, but it would save you a lot of headache later. Your court appointed lawyer is on his way, but the way they work, you'll be spilling it all anyways. Besides, we know what you did. Don't have to do anything with evidence to prove it. Witnesses and all."
Nothing, but another tightening of that hard jaw. Brass sniffed, his nose crinkling up just a little. The detective could go at this all day, but he really wanted some information. The sooner, the better.
"Just tell me where my guys are at and you can be on your way to a nice personal cell. It's where you're going anyways. Might as well make the time a little shorter, eh?"
His hands began to twist around themselves, his fingers tight on each other. The skin under the cuffs was red with irritation, but the flesh held in the blood just fine. He wasn't about to bleed to death working to get the cuffs off. Brass wouldn't let him get that far anyways.
"Look, I don't know about you, but this is the last place I want to be. All you have to do is tell us where your buddy Tenner is hiding at and we can all be on our merry little ways. Simple."
"Nothing's simple." The man grunted it out, his lips barely moving. He shifted his weight some, the chair protesting with a deep creek. Both hands were still holding on to the other in some odd form of comfort that Grissom had never understood.
Brass' eyebrow shot up, "Oh? And why's that?"
They had their way in and it seemed that Shaun wasn't as strong as he made himself out to be, "He won't be there when you get there anyways. Your people are as good as dead. Might as well leave that shit alone."
"Are you the messenger in this? Or perhaps you're not as talented as you make yourself out to be," Brass kept pushing at the buttons, "You getting soft anyways from his craziness?"
"No, shit never affected me," Shaun turned to look at the mirror lining the far wall of the room.
"So you're telling me that you did all this out of the good of your heart? His insanity didn't make you think this might be a bad idea huh? Interesting form of charity I must say. Not too bad. I should look it up around Christmas time when the department is trying to talk me into that damn Santa suit again."
It was enough to get some anger, "I did it because I had to, man. Nothing more."
"So you had to let yourself get caught? You had to get bad at your job?"
"I'm not bad at my job! Fuck! I just…"
Brass' face opened up, tilting in towards the man across the table from him, "You just what? Forgot the plan? Got a conscious?"
"No."
Glancing towards the detective, Grissom adjusted his glasses on his nose. The chill in the room was causing Shaun to pull his arms back towards himself a little. And the man didn't seem so sure of himself now. Grissom could see the bricks coming down on by on. Tenner hadn't planned on having this man in a police interrogation room it seemed.
"Oh come on now," Brass threw his arms out, leaning back, hard, in his chair, "You expect me to be happy with that simple answer? I'd try again if I were you."
There was some hesitation, more hand twisting. Shaun's face scrunched up in indecision, but he didn't stop his mouth from opening, "No. I just didn't plan on killing."
"Oh please. You did it before! You had that cloak and everything. Hell, you took the same two guys before. And you weren't planning on doing the same?"
"But they were fuckin' members of the church last time! They knew what might come at 'em. These girls didn't know shit!" Shaun slammed his cuffed hands down on the table, the chair rattling. His voice had gotten louder as he spoke.
"So a murderer can grow a conscious. I must admit, I'm impressed. I've dealt with plenty of your scum in my days and never thought that was something you could do."
"They shouldn't have had to die. He only did it because he wanted something else. It was leading up to the fucking big event."
Grissom couldn't keep him mouth closed anymore, "What big event?"
He got two looks. The one from Brass was pissed, yet pleased. And the other was from Shaun. It was a mixture of uncertainty and slight recognition. But it was obvious the man didn't know who he truly was and didn't bother to press the questions obviously floating around in his head.
"He had plans. Wanted to finish off what he started before. The girls were meant to help that along, but things went too quickly for him. I thought if I grabbed one of them and brought him to Tenner, he might not kill me."
"He'd kill you?" Brass leaned his elbows on the table and pierced the man with a harsh glare.
"Not right away, no. He'd wait until I had the opportunity to do it on my own. Those were the damn instructions we were all given. And both times I didn't do as I was supposed to. Couldn't fuckin' do it. I can't go back to him now. I've lost all my trust to him."
"What do you mean, on your own?" Grissom leaned forward as well, but kept his elbows locked in close to his body, away from the table.
"He wanted us to kill ourselves if the cops caught a sniff of anything we were doing. A big 'ol bullet to the head. Happened at least twice that I know of."
"But why? Wouldn't he have wanted to do it himself?"
Shaun actually laughed, "Please. That man didn't want to do anything that didn't fit in his little world and doing it himself was just that sort of shit. If it didn't go with had already happened, he didn't want anything to do with it. That's another reason he got so upset with me to begin with. I brought the black guy in too soon."
None of what he was saying was making too much sense to either of the other men in the room. It was a riddle of some sorts. And as much as Grissom liked a good puzzle, he was eager to move and get Nick and Warrick back. "What does that mean?"
"Tenner didn't want anyone, but one," Shaun looked defeated, but he kept on talking, "He only wanted to one that he didn't kill before. Things had gotten out of his control and he couldn't even kill him when someone else was doing the work. It would see the dude is nothing, but odd plans."
Brass slapped his opened hands down on the table now, "He wanted Nick again? Other time? Just speak out there. Don't hide anything."
Taking a deep breath, Shaun lowered his chin a little, "He wanted to get a hold of Nick, the CSI. He wants to kill him. Something about him being part of Tenner's history or some shit. I really didn't get the whole thing, but I wasn't about to ask for more. I like my head in place, thanks. But, he went ape shit about how Gordon didn't succeed. Dude was supposed to die in the box, but didn't."
"So Tenner and Gordon did work together," Grissom said mostly to himself.
"Sort of. Both knew each other, went to the same shrink or some shit like that. I don't really know. But that ain't the point, he wanted to finish the job. Leave the girls around like fucking calling cards for the dude to come and get 'em. And that he did. Only best after I brought in the black guy, but didn't get shit for it."
"Where is he now? I need you to tell me how to find him."
"Oh yeah," Shaun glared at both detective and CSI alike, "What kind of shit you gonna do for me? Huh? You gonna give like thirty or something? What makes you think I want any part of something like that?"
Brass looked over at Grissom slowly, "Only choice you really have now. You just gave a full confession and we have it all on tape. You were given your rights and obviously decided to wave them. Everything you just said will be used against you. We might be able to help it not be so bad. Keep you from becoming someone's bitch."
"You do that for Johnson? He all sitting up there pretty and shit like that? I don't want anything from either of you. And I ain't going to tell you where to find Tenner. Dudes need to die. Then I won't have to. It's that simple."
"You're going to die in prison either way. Someone is going to find out what you did and they don't take kindly to cowards the kill girls where you'd go. Even criminals have some standards. One or two will kick your ass for it," Brass explained.
"Fine. Send me there. Let my ass get kicked. At least I'll still be alive. Better than what he can do to me. You can take all I said and shove it down your throats. If I get the chance, you'll both be dead anyways. He will win this."
Taking a deep breath, Grissom removed his glasses from his nose, "I highly doubt that. We will figure out where they're at and get them back. Tenner isn't going to get to do anything."
"Oh, you'll find them alright. You'll find their bones and a few shreds of meat. Nothing more. Tenner'll fuck 'em up good. You'll be sorry to have to see that shit like that. I ain't giving you anything more."
"Alright then," Brass stood from his chair, it scraping harshly against the cold floor of the room, "But you're going to rot for this. No one is going to let you off for this one."
Shaun stood on his own, shaking off the officer hands reaching for him, "Yeah, but they'll be fuckin' dead. Nothing you can do. Their blood is on your head. May the day of destiny rain down on you and fuckin' kick your asses."
The man was escorted out of the cool room leaving behind two frustrated men. Neither said a word, Grissom not even rising from his chair yet. He was deep in thought and worry. It was hard to work through, alone with a detective that wanted nothing more than to kill Shaun with his bare hands.
"Any ideas?" Brass shot at him with a low tone, frown deeply in place.
Grissom sighed, pinching the skin on his chin, "No. And I fear we might be too late in this one. No one has anything. We might be too late."
He received a sharp look, "You mean you're going to give up? Let them die? What the hell, Gil?"
"You think that's easy for me to accept," the CSI suddenly shouted out, his voice flooded with unknown emotions, "I don't know what to do. I failed them and now they might die for it. This is all my fault. Their blood is on my hands. That's all there is to it."
Getting quickly to his feet, Grissom left the room before Brass could say another word to him. He wasn't in the mood to listen to anymore words. All he wanted to do was get a hold of some evidence and make it tell its story to him. Hope had left him, but there might just be some left for Nick and Warrick out there.
Somewhere.
!#$&()+!#$&()+!#$&()+!#$&()+
He was sure time was passing by. There was no way it wasn't. Time didn't stand still for someone like him. No way he was special enough to desire something such as that. After all, he was one who ruined his best friend with nothing more than a couple of words.
Nick signed, his chin dropped to rest on his chest. Tiny bodies were still moving all over him, working their way up and over his face. He had been pretty successful in keeping them out of his nose, but he was having harder luck with his mouth. Every now and then he would yawn or just open his lips for a bigger gulp of air. Instead, a few crunchy bodies worked their way in as well. At least he was going to be getting plenty of protein.
Nothing had bitten him yet. And not being able to see from the blindfold, Nick had no clue what was on him. He knew there were types of ants that didn't bite, but he wasn't about to test that theory by moving around and making them made. Hell, he wouldn't have been surprised if these were different from the last time he were in the room. It would be something Tenner would enjoy doing.
Several of the things had managed their way under his shirt. They were crawling around his stomach, on his chest. Their small feet where clinging to the light layer of hair he had over his torso. But it was on his neck that they tickled the most.
All the feeling had left his hands. He was sure they were still behind him, tied off in a tight rope, but he couldn't feel them. His clothes were still soaked, drying at the speed of grass growing. The cold really wasn't a factor anymore. No more chills. And Nick knew that was a bad sign. He might be from Texas, but he knew that you didn't want to get so cold that you stopped shivering.
Hypothermia was now on his list of problems. His chilled brain couldn't pull up any useful information about what he could do for this kind of thing. There were things he remembered from college biology classes and something that was discussed on the Dallas Squad, but it was hard to pull it all out and have it make any sense. It all needed an order for his slower than normal thought processes.
Pull all limbs in as tight to the body as possible.
Cold-water immersion can increase conductive heat loss by about twenty five times.
Approximately 700 people die in the United States from accidental primary hypothermia each year.
Hypothermia affects all organ systems.
Signs may include slurred speech, slow rate of breathing, cold, pale skin, and fatigue.
A disproportionate amount of heat is lost through your head.
Don't attempt to swim unless close to safe place.
Nick rolled his eyes behind closed lids as he thought about the last one. He wasn't actually in a water situation. Just given a really cold shower, more than once. But some of the others stuck out at him. They sounded important and he fought to give them more thoughts.
He tried to check his breathing. It was a little shaky, rough against his lungs. Nick couldn't really think about what was normal for his breathing, but this had to be slower. There was no way he did this normally, not with the tone he had produced in his body.
They yawning answered the questions about fatigue. He had been fighting the damn things off more than the insects crawling around his ears. Nick knew he was going to have to try to keep himself as alert as possible. Testing out his speech might help with that. Nothing better than trying to think of things to say to oneself.
"The long…billed..cur.curlew b.b.breeds mostly…on grasslands of the…West. It.t's the largest shore…bird in N.north Amer'ca," Nick almost sobbed at the last word. It had been hard enough to get his lips to form those words. That was something he should have been able to spit out at rapid speed without batting an eyelash. Instead, he fought for the words, both in his mind and on his lips.
He was officially in trouble. Healthy people normally didn't die from hypothermia. Well, if they could get treatment going right away. And that didn't seem like something Tenner was going to offer him during this thing they had going on.
A small body climbed up towards his right eye, wiggling under the blindfold. Nick slammed the lids down harder. He tried wiggling his cheeks, blowing upwards the best he could, but the thing was persistent. Small feelers reached out, brushing up against his dark eyelashes. The lid fluttered at the sensation. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Luke warm tears managed to break the sealed barrier.
It was too hard. It was almost too much. Nick tried to find more resolve deep inside himself, but it was getting harder and harder. More tears came. The small body was dislodged, pushed from the cloth, following the small stream that ran off Nick's bluish-gray chin. He slammed his head hard against the wall behind him, waking all his nerve endings up for just a moment.
Pain flared through every fiber of his body. There was only so much he would be able to handle and this seemed to be the limits of it. No amount of pleading or crying was able to make it change. More just kept coming. He had let them down. Nick couldn't do anything for anyone. Ever.
!#$&()+!#$&()+!#$&()+
Warrick didn't bother to lift his head. The lights were all on now, burning out his corneas. His eyelids were shut tight as he could manage, but the light still weaseled its way in. But the light was really the least of his worries.
His mind was replaying everything that just happened. From what was previously done to those words Nick had said to him. It really wasn't a big thing and Warrick was chastising himself for acting like a total girl, but it did bother him. And he didn't really like where his mind was taking it to as for the reason why.
Sure, he had felt guilty for most of the bad things that had happened to Nick. A lot of it was his fault. He understood he wasn't the one to stab Nick, shove him in a glass box, or shoot his head off in front of him, but it still felt like it could have been.
This was something he always had a problem with. Even as a child he had problems taking on too much guilt for things. His grandmother had tried to work with him on it, but it was clear it hadn't taken like it should have. Warrick could still remember the time he had cleaned the living room and rearranged the furniture. His grandmother had come home, not thinking things would be different. She walked into the room like normal, right into a table holding some of her precious collectables. Two of them had fallen and smashed on the floor. No fault was given to Warrick, called an accident, but he still had felt terribly guilty. He was the one who moved things around and didn't say a word about it to her. It might not have happened it he had done something else. Done anything at all.
But what he had done to Nick was ten times more serious. These things almost cost his friend his life more that once. And now there was nothing he could do for him. It was his fault that he let himself be taken so he could be used as bait. Now Tenner had them both and was slowly getting what he wanted.
Both cloaked figures were still in the room. He didn't know what they were doing, other than watching everything he was doing. Not that he was all that entertaining. Warrick could only think that he hoped they weren't waiting for him to balance a ball on the top of his head while juggling tennis balls. It would be a cold day in hell first.
Tenner had come back in after they had disposed of Nick. There had been no words, just the turning on of the two last lights. He had walked out without some much as a look to Warrick. It was clearly obvious that Nick really was what he wanted. Tenner left Warrick alone when Nick wasn't involved.
Warrick tried to think of something he might be able to do. His hands were useless, only his feet free. He had tried to stand and walk with the chair strapped onto him, but it was hard and awkward. There was no way he could do it. If he were a few inches shorter it may have been possible, but with his lanky form, there was no way. Muscles just didn't work that way for him.
Somehow him and Nick were going to have to work together to get out of this one. That was the only option. But he wasn't so sure Nick would want to help him anymore. Sure, the guy had a heart of gold, but there was only so much a person could take before they stopped caring. And Nick would have a better option of escape if he didn't have to worry about Warrick as well.
His thoughts were cut off as Tenner sauntered back into the room, a large smile on his face, "You'll be happy to know, Nick is almost there. We will be able to kill him soon enough. I thought you'd like to know."
"What are you doing to him?"
"Oh, friends again? Hmm, interesting. Anyways, he's off in a little timeout. Nothing major, just a dark closet with hundreds of little critters."
Warrick was sure his heart had triple thudded, "Little critters? You put ants in with him? What the fuck? He's allergic to them!"
"Oh, that I know. Don't worry. I don't want him to die that way. Oh no. This is just something extra to scare him. I didn't use anything lethal against him. Just small crickets. They feel like ants though I'm told when they walk on your skin."
"You idea of sick amusement. Nick is stronger than that. If they don't bite him, he'll know something is up and be just fine."
"You so sure about that?" Tenner asked while shooting a look to the cloaked figures, "We can take a look. I'm dying to know myself. Besides, I think the cold is working better than those bugs ever could."
"Sending them after him again," Warrick commented as he watched them leave the room as quiet as a whisper.
"Yes. I must admit. I'm curious myself to see exactly how things are going. You can only hear and see things so well through modern technology. Nothing's better than natural human ears and eyes. Wouldn't you agree?"
"To anything you say? I don't think so. I'd have to be really drunk to do something like that."
"Always figured you'd be the one who'd be the most trouble. Even the last time you couldn't keep your mouth shut. Well, this time he'll be too far gone to even care for anything to say or do anymore. I told you I was going to break him and I still plan on doing it."
"What? You do this cuz you have problems getting it up or something? No woman crazy enough to let you fuck her so you get off doing shit like this? What is it?"
Tenner's eyes darkened. He reached out and turned off one, two of the lights in rapid succession, "There is nothing wrong with me. If you must keep going back to that, you obviously don't have anything else to work with. You don't understand, Mr. Brown. And you never will. But Nick will. He will soon enough."
Some shuffling by the door distracted both men. Warrick shifted as best he could and watched Nick limp his way into the room. It was clear that if it weren't for the two figures by his sides, then Nick would be flat faced on the floor. The Texan's hair was dripping wet again.
"Nick!"
The sound got to the other man, but it was clear he didn't really understand what it meant or who it was from at that moment. Nick simply rolled his head around on his neck, eyes trying to focus. His feet dragged as he was led back to his chair. They had his hands untied. But they were limp at his sides, hanging down to the floor.
"See, he is almost there. I would have never thought something as simple as cold water and chilly temperatures would be enough to do something this well. Oh, well, and the bugs of course. Everything is working better than I could have ever dreamed. This is perfect."
Nick groaned and tried to lean away from the voice. His back was stopped by the chair and forced him to slump a little more. Warrick could see that his hands were an interesting shade of gray and no longer shaking.
"He's got hypothermia. He needs to be warmed up."
"Oh, it'll be warm enough soon. He'll be given his option to get away from this and make himself warmer again. Soon," Tenner reached out and brushed the back of his hand against Nick's right cheek. He was pleased by the cold, clammy feel that it had.
"But I have changed my mind. I think I'll kill him first, then you. For awhile I had been playing around with the other option, but since he is responding so well, I might as well not waste it. And you'll get to see it all. Aren't you excited?"
Warrick ignored him and focused on Nick, "Hey. Hey bud! Nick, I need you to look at me."
Another moan, another roll of a heavy head. Nick worked on figuring out what was going on. It was getting harder and harder. The last blast of cold water had been nothing, but a nuisance. Nothing really mattered anymore when it came to his body temperature. It was dangerously low as it was.
The voice came again, harder this time. Nick forced his head steady, his eyes cracking open. There was a hard crust in the corners and it yanked at the lashes as they separated. He could hear a gasp from someone, somewhere. His blue lips moved, but nothing came out.
Warrick couldn't hold back his gasp of surprise. Those once vibrant chocolate eyes were almost a completely pale brown. There was little color other than from the enlarged black pupils. Nick's skin looked to be almost see-through, beyond pale. It was almost transparent. And the blue lips didn't look right against the pale pink tongue that darted out to lick at them.
"See, he's almost there. We should be able to do more. I have a feeling I know what might work," Tenner leaned in close to Nick, his lips almost brushing the white ear, "Hey CSI guy."
It was enough to get Nick to jerk a little, away from the sound. Those words flooded forward through his jumbled thoughts. He suddenly couldn't move. There wasn't as much as air as before. Nick let out a soft cry of distress.
"Breathe quick, breathe slow," Tenner smiled, watching as Nick sucked in a large breath, trying to hold in his noises of fear.
Warrick growled, "Leave him alone! Nick, hey! You're not alone! I'm here!"
His forehead crinkled a little. That voice was familiar. Nick cleared his dead eyes the best he could and managed to make out the rough form of the CSI right in front of him. He knew that was Warrick. But it was hard to believe that he was talking to him. Warrick was mad at him for something, he knew that, but couldn't remember for what. Nick didn't think he was there to save him at all.
"Put your gun in your mouth. Either way, you're going to die here."
Something heavy was placed in his hand. His fingers were moved, wrapped around the object. Nick turned his attention towards it. All he could see was a large black object, in an odd shape. But it felt like something he was used to, had held before at some point. He had been a cop. Nick knew the feel of a gun in his hand.
"Do it Nick. Pull the trigger. It won't hurt. It'll bring warmth," Tenner was back, whispering sweetly in his ear.
"No!" Warrick shouted, eyes wide, "Don't do it Nick! Put it down! This isn't the way!"
"Oh, it's the only way to make this all end," Tenner smirked towards Warrick as he kept talking, "This will end it all. Everything will be better once it is all over."
It was all too confusing. Nick tried to lift the gun. His hand had trouble, trembling under the strain. But he managed to get it up away from his knee. For some reason it reassured him. There was a way out. He didn't need to suffer through the ants and the suffocation. Nick could do this all on his own.
"Here, let me help you with that. Now, watch what I do," Tenner reached out and wrapped his hand around Nick's. Warrick barely registered the action before the gun was pointed in his direction. He could see Nick was only looking at his hand, not the intended target. Tenner was going to help Nick to shoot him.
"Nick! Don't!" Warrick watched as the gun was cocked, Tenner leaned down to make sure the aim as perfect. The smile got larger right as the trigger was pulled. Warrick threw his weight back in the chair as hard as he could, yelling out in anger. It tipped backwards, gravity finishing the job, pulling Warrick to the ground.
He felt something rip at his lower left leg that was now in flying up into the air. Warrick shouted in pain, still falling backwards. There wasn't another shot, but he didn't have to worry about that. His head smashed into the cement of the floor. Unconsciousness hit him like a train.
Tenner simply nodded his head and removed his hand from Nick's, "Now it's up to you Nicky. Do as you must."
He stepped backwards, away from Nick. The CSI's attention was still focused on the gun in his hand. For some reason it attracted his full attention. But so had the yells. They were getting some of his attention now and Nick was slowly forgetting what the gun was for that he held in his hand.
The last light suddenly went out. Nick gasped, his head snapping upwards. A chill ran across him, lifting at his hair. Something green was off to his side. It wasn't bright, just enough to be there as a tiny bit of his surroundings. And it gave a green-hint off the thing he remembered he held.
It was dark. No light was able to reach any inch of his body. Nick's mouth opened wide, scream loud to his ears as it echoed around the small room. No one was coming!
The steel was warm in his hands. It had been used. He had seen it. And now, it was his. But in the darkness, there was nothing to aim at. Well…there was one thing.
Nick shook, made some keening noises in his throat. He gripped the gun in both cold, dying hands and brought it up to his chin. It pressed into the softness there, hard and solid. The end of the barrel was hot to the touch, but it barely registered in Nick's mind.
He had no air. There was no one coming. This was it. It was up to him to end his suffering. His finger wrapped around the trigger, resting there. He was alone and he was going to die alone. Nick sobbed as he took a deep breath, steadying himself the best he could.
He wondered what Heaven looked like.
TBC…