Thank you to all my reviewers!

Chapter 9

He woke, groggy. Everything was blurred, and it was dark. He couldn't quite bring anything into focus, but he felt something like a wall pressed against his back, and the ground was shaking. An earthquake? He thought, trying to clear his mind to think. His hands were behind him. How strange. He tried to pull them apart and felt something cut into his wrists. The back of his shirt was wet, and there was a coppery smell in the air.

Everything clicked, and his eyesight cleared. It was dark, very dark, save for the small bursts of light coming from a window somewhere above him. The walls were dangerously close, and the whole place was moving. In front of him, very close, was the shape of another person.

This place was too small, way too small. He fought down panic as the walls seemed to close in around him. It was getting hard to breathe and he tried to inhale, but his breath stuck in his throat. He was back in that plexiglass coffin, and he could almost see the dirt above him. The hum of the car's engine became the whir of the fan, and the flashing street lights became a bright yellow light that filled the whole box. Twisting, he tried to find room, but felt the cold glass against his skin. He couldn't breathe, and he started to shiver despite the fact that he was sweat soaked. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on breathing, but it wasn't working. He started to get dizzy, and panic set in. Body shaking, he tried to avoid crying out. His lungs weren't working, and although he was gasping for air, he could feel himself falling weak and helpless.

"Nick!"

Catherine's urgent whisper cut through his panic, and he breathed in surprise. Air filled his lungs and he willed Catherine to speak again to give him something to cling to. "Nick! Breathe! Come on, Nicky, Breathe!" She said. He opened his eyes and saw hers, scared and concerned. He breathed. The walls were still close, but the plexiglass coffin was gone, and he focused on her face to keep it that way.

"Cath…" He managed to gasp out.

"Nicky," Her voice was shaking. "Stay with me here."

He nodded, trying to keep tears out of his eyes and trying to control his breathing at the same time. "Where are we?" his voice was weak, but steady. He tried to shift himself, and a stinging pain shot through his body. It was then that he remembered his back was soaked in blood. Memories of the past night flooded his mind, and the pain intensified. When the wet cloth of his shirt would touch the many little cuts on his back, it would send another wave of pain through his body. Catherine was answering him, but he didn't hear her. His eyes were starting to water, and he tried to shift again so that his shirt wouldn't chafe against his wounds. A gasp of pain escaped his lips, and Catherine looked at him with renewed concern.

"Nick, are you okay?" She asked.

"I'm fine," he said. The pain was making him dizzy. "Won't they hear us talking?" He asked, before realizing that the wall against his back was probably a partion. They must be in some sort of utility vehicle.

Catherine confirmed his suspicion. Nick closed his eyes to stop them from watering, and could feel the walls shrinking again. He quickly opened them again. Catherine looked worried, but the thing that took Nick by surprise were the tears shining in her eyes. "Cath?" He asked in a whisper. She didn't answer at first, and he tried to remember the details of their conversation with the kidnappers. It didn't work, the memories escaped him. His mind wasn't working quite well at the moment.

He could see her shake her head. "Lindsey…" She said, voice quavering.

Nick remembered. The kidnappers had threatened Lindsey. He didn't know what to say. Their conversation was keeping panic at bay, but only just. He couldn't even fathom what was going through Catherine's head at the moment. The mother in her would be frightened out of its wits. "Cath? They'll find her. Gris and the others. The first place they'll go is your house." He said.

She looked up suddenly, eyes lighting up. "Nick…" He gave her a quizzical look and grimaced as the car shook and his shirt chafed his wounds. "Nick!" She said in a feverish whisper. "I taped the whole thing! They didn't find it, did they?"

"What?"

"The girl. Melissa Harrison! She got her murder on tape. I found a recorder near her bed. I pressed record when the guy came in!" Catherine's tears were gone, and her voice was less shaky.

Nick didn't know if he could believe his ears. "Did they find it?" He asked.

"No, they were too busy restraining you." She replied. "I think he forgot about it when you walked in."

The car shook again, and Nick tried not to cry out. This was insane. The fact that Catherine had recorded their whole conversation was good news, but he felt so helpless. If there was one thing they knew about this guy, it was that he left no traces. Nick doubted very much that any of them would send even a ransom note into the office. Last time he'd been kidnapped, the team had at least a webcam signal to trace. It was unlikely that their current kidnappers would do anything similar. They would have learned from their mistake. He was supposed to die the last time, and he hadn't. This thought brought a chill to him. He was going to die this time. He was sure of it, these guys didn't leave any loose ends, and Nick was one of them. He shook involuntarily, eliciting another concerned look from Catherine. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself enough to analyze the situation. From the feel of his restraints, his hands were bound by zip ties. It was probably the same story for Catherine, and it was an effective one. Without his hands, he couldn't do anything. As far as he could tell, his ankles were free. It was no use though. There was nothing he could do, even with his legs free. He was helpless, and he hated that feeling. Last time, it wasn't that he was stuck in a plexiglass coffin with no sign of escape that frightened him; it was the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. The knowledge that his life was in the hands of another was the truly scary part. The pain did not help either. It fogged his thinking and blurred his thoughts. He tried shifting again to move the cloth away from his skin. Wait, what's this? He thought. Indeed, he did feel something in his back pocket. Could it be? Were these killers losing their touch? "Cath," He whispered, even quieter. It was essential that the kidnappers not know they were awake.

She looked up at him. "What's wrong?"

He made a shushing sound before lowering his voice even more and asking. "Do you know what they used to drug us? All I remember is them putting a white cloth across my face."

She gave him a strange look. "Probably ether. That's what the Gordon guy used. Why?"

Nick suppressed a shudder at the mention of the name. "My cell's still in my back pocket. But if they know we're awake and they're coming back to drug us again, then we shouldn't bother because they'll find it."

Her eyes lit up. "I don't think they know. It's now or never, Nicky."

He looked at her, the thought of moving was intimidating. It hurt enough just laying there. "I can't reach it. If I flip over, do you think you could get it?"

"I have to try." He heard her reply as he steeled himself to turn over. "Be careful to do it quietly. It's over if these guys hear, and I don't know how much time we have."

Nick nodded and maneuvered himself painfully so that his back was facing Catherine. He could hear her moving too, and a moment later, feel her reaching for his phone. Without something to focus on aside from the pain, he could feel the walls begin to shrink again. He had to talk to distract himself. "Did they hurt you too?" he choked out.

"No, but my arms hurt like hell. They've fallen asleep." Her voice was slightly muffled, and he completely agreed with her. His arms hurt also, and he could feel blood on his hands from straining against the zip ties. His arms were numb though, and he was grateful, for he could not fear the zip ties cutting into his wrists, only a prickly feeling as the blood ran down his palms. "Who's on your speed dial?" He heard her ask.

The back of the car lit up from his phone display, and went black a moment later as Catherine covered the screen. Nick tried to clear his memory to remember. "Gris is number one, 'Rick's on two. Don't press four."

"Why?"

"Because that's you, and they probably have your cell." He answered. "Put it on speaker."

He heard his phone dialing, and grimacing, turned himself over again so that he could hear better. Catherine had also turned over and was waiting intently. One ring… Nick gasped, his wounds were stinging. Anther ring… He forced himself to think about the phone instead of his back. Another ring that was quickly cut off as the person on the other line answered. "Hello?" It was Grissom's voice, and it sounded cautious. That was to be expected though.

"Gris…" Nick said, trying to keep a quaver out of his voice.

"Nick, where the hell are you?" Grissom exclaimed, but he did not sound angry. On the contrary, to Nick's surprise, he thought he heard fear in Grissom's voice.

"I don't know, aren't you tracing this?" Nick replied.

"Of course… Is Catherine with you?"

Catherine didn't wait for Nick to answer for her. "Grissom… Lindsey, she…" Nick heard a definite quiver in her voice.

"She's safe." Grissom said, but something in his voice made Nick wonder. "Warrick went and got her. She's fine. We got her out."

"Out?" Catherine sounded terrified. "Gris, what happened?"

"No time for that," Grissom replied, but Nick knew he was making up excuses. "Cath, Nick, do you have any idea where you are?"

"Back of a car, more like a utility van." Nick replied.

"How are you calling me?" Grissom once again sounded cautious. It wasn't rare for a kidnapper to hold a gun to their captive's head and have them call a loved one before they died.

"They left my phone in my pocket for some reason." Nick replied. Short answers were about all he had energy for. He was starting to feel dizzy. He'd probably lost too much blood.

"Do you know what kind of van it is?" Grissom asked. "We're at the lab right now, and if you have any idea, tell us, because we can see if any are registered to anyone in Las Vegas."

Catherine still looked horrified, but she glanced at Nick and saw that he was weak. "We were drugged. We just woke up in here, no idea how we got here. Did you listen to that tape yet? Did you even find it?"

"We found it." Grissom sounded concerned. "That's how we knew to get Lindsey, but we haven't listened to the whole thing yet. Haven't had time. Listen, is Nick alright? We know the blood on the wall is his."

"I'm fine," Nick replied, but flinched. His voice was terribly shaky and soft. He wondered vaguely why he had answered that way in the first place.

"Don't push yourself, Nicky. You've lost too much blood already." Grissom's answer came. Nick already knew this, but it scared him, coming from Grissom. When he didn't get a reply, Grissom continued speaking. "Did you get any identification on your captors? Did they mention anything distinguishing?"

Nick closed his eyes. Catherine could answer Grissom's questions. This time, the back of the car actually didn't shrink, and he could still think somewhat clearly. He knew he was one the verge of unconsciousness though. His thoughts were getting fuzzy, and he knew it was not from any drug they could have given him. The constant sting was lessening, and his grip on the world was slipping. Was it him, or was the car slowing? Catherine and Grissom's voices were unidentifiable murmurs. The movement of the car got rough and came to a stop all together, but the pain in his back was not so intense. There was a bright white light. The moon, possibly? He didn't know. Something that sounded like a male voice and a woman's scream. A moment later, he was flying and he fell hard on gravel.

His fall jerked him out of his stupor. The pain returned, many times intensified as the result of the little rocks pressing themselves against his back. There was no way he could stop it, tears found their way out of his eyes. A foot came in view and he curled in on himself, trying to clutch his stomach, but only succeeding in making the cuts on his wrists deeper. A cell phone dropped into view, and the next moment, a heel crushing it. He closed his eyes and felt himself being dragged upwards and a wet cloth pressed against his face. He struggled, and tried to hold his breath, but got dizzy again and inhaled. Everything went black.

TBC...

A/N: I don't know much about cell phones as I don't have one, so sorry if it seemed a little unrealistic...