Well, I wanted to make that little note again w/ this chapter, and that is: I'm not basing this off any of the specific episodes... so... yeah... Anyways, I thought I'd update before I started my homework... again... but that means I have to deprive myself of the computer for an hour or two because if not, I'll get all caught up in 1) Reading fanfictions 2)Writing fanfictions (see below) or 3) a combination of the two (Don't ask how that works.. because I don't know...)

Chapter 15

The arrival of three new people was an unwelcome surprise. Nick started to feel dizzy again. The loss of blood was catching up with him. He tried to control his breathing and inhaled deeply to slow his blood pressure. The feeling in his arms and hands had disappeared all together, but the rest of his body ached and stung, especially the cuts on his back. He had a vague idea that they put something on them to irritate them, or stop them from clotting.

He looked up at the three new arrivals. Only one was not wearing a mask, but Nick didn't recognize him, however, he committed the guy to memory so he could describe him if by any chance they got out of this alive. He did not have a gun, but the two standing behind him did.The mask-less man did not seem to mind this, and simply surveyed them for a moment. Both of the men behind him stood awkwardly, pointing their guns at either CSI, but Nick didn't like the look of them, even without seeing their faces. All three armed men were muscular, tall and imposing, and he felt very vulnerable in his position.

Finally, the mask-less man spoke. "What? No amazed look of recognition? No sudden intake of breath at such a familiar face?" Blank though his expression might be, the man could not keep anger out of his voice. Nick heard it plainly and silently wondered if he could use it to his advantage.

"Do I know you?" Nick asked in a slightly impertinent tone. He meant to divert their attention from Catherine, knowing what they were capable of.

The man's lip curled in a sneer. "Oh, I know, you meet too many people a day to remember their faces." Nick didn't answer. "Do you remember the faces of those you arrest?"

"We don't make arrests," Nick said the first thing that came to his mind. As long as the guy's eyes stay off Catherine, He thought.

The man looked at him shrewdly as if trying to decide what to do. Nick held his gaze, ignoring the pain in the rest of his body. "No? But how many times do you build evidence against the wrong person?" The man said.

His words sent a chill down Nick's spine. They had to do their job without thinking about such situations, but Nick thought about them anyways. Every time they arrested someone, that notion always ran through his mind and he shook it off, reminding himself that the evidence spoke for itself. Realizing that this was what his kidnapper wanted him to be thinking, he replied as callously as he could. "We try to keep such times to a minimum." This wasn't a good time to be throwing back smart answers, but Nick wanted to keep him talking. He needed energy for that though, and the small burst of adrenaline he'd received when the three new people had walked in was quickly wearing off.

His statement had angered the man even more, and he struck out at Nick with a boot. Once again, he tried to curl in on himself, his already bruised stomach burning with a refreshed wave of pain. The man sunk to a squat so that Nick was looking straight in his face. "Well, if there's so few times, then perhaps Paul Ferguson rings a bell?" The three other men shifted and Nick glanced at the two he could see before returning his eyes to the man's face.

The name Paul Ferguson rang no bell, but Nick didn't remember names as well as he could. He wondered how old the case was and if it was even a case. If it was, then the men around him were probably all enraged family or friends. "No?" The man in front of him said. "Well I remember seeing you at our door, and your boss, Gil Grissom."

Nick didn't remember. He could barely focus, for his concentration was wavering and his stomach felt like a truck had run it over. Also, the sensation of lying in his own blood was unnerving him. "I wonder how long it will take them to find you guys." The man continued talking.

Nick wasn't really aware of what he was saying, but he was thinking along the same lines. He knew that Grissom would have had their phone conversation tracked, but he didn't know if they could find anything from it aside from the little piece of road they'd lost contact on.

"Will they think to look here?"

His voice was starting to fade, and Nick barely perceived his taunting drawl. He vaguely heard something outside, and did the man with the gun move or was it a trick of his progressively blurry vision?

The feeling of another foot in his stomach jerked him out of being on the brink of unconsciousness. He could definitely hear a car outside, and judging by his captors' reactions, it wasn't someone expected. His heart leapt with hope, and sank when he realized his captors would probably kill them before they could be rescued.

It seemed his captors had other plans though. It was the last thing Nick expected too. He and Catherine suddenly found themselves alone as the four kidnappers dispersed at an order from the mask-less one. This struck Nick as ominous though, and he remembered the guns they had.

"Nick!" He flipped over and saw Warrick and Greg come in. His heart leapt and sank once more.

TBC...

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