For the sake of it, once more, don't own CSI, it's characters, or anything of the sort, only this cheap imitation of the characters and it's awesomeness.

Okay...lol, I know, I know, decoding European languages bad! Bad me! But cut me some slack, I tried. Haha, It's hard when you're as isolated as me! But I did my best, and it's Words fault!!! Blame the word processor, I tell you!!! Haha;)

But anyways, enough of my pointless blathering about word processors, here's the next chapter with the interesting title name. :O Ooh, and not to spoil anything, but THE CSI FINALE LOOKS AWESOME DEADLY!!!! Check it out in May;) and enjoy the next chapter of this story!

CHAPTER 8: CAL

When Greg awoke again, he was assaulted by his senses. His fingers were numb and cold from his wrists being tied, circulation shunted. His nose burned, the air aggravating his tired sore body with a medley of scents. His tongue tasted the metallic heat of blood, and he licked his dry lips with his sandpaper tongue. His eyes, though still heavy, were feeling more up to the task to keeping him visually aware of his surroundings. His hearing. His hearing was the sense that bewildered him, as he heard the lazy whispers of a song being sung near him. Then, he felt hands dab something to his face. They were not the hands of a woman.

Suddenly intensely awake, Greg recoiled from the touch like it was a deadly snake, and his eyes shot open, but he soon sunk back with the pain that coursed through his torso and out to his limbs and head, making him collapse, his muscles completely useless to him.

"I'm sorry." Said the voice that owned the hands. "I did not think you would be awake so soon."

Greg groaned in reply, and he looked at the face of the man he was at first led to believe was Officer Cal Echo. He watched as the man, who was fairly young also with black hair, but green eyes, dipped a washcloth into a bowl of water next to him. "Why did you say sorry for? If you were really sorry, you'd get me out of here."

The man chuckled, not unkindly. "I can't do that. Janine would be very upset withy me, and she is very fond of you." He scrubbed at Greg's cheek, still tender from where he had been slugged earlier, and he winced.

Greg was completely baffled by this man. "Why are you doing this, for her I mean. You must know this is wrong. You can stop this."

Cal smiled sadly. "I am bound to her. My name is Cal Platt, and I am married to Janine Crawly."

Greg was flabbergasted at that revelation. "What? You're married to her?" His surprise soon gave away to anger. "If that's the case, you should have stopped her from doing this before! You're her husband, and she's on a self-destructing path. What were you thinking?"

"Mr. Sanders, I believe that you do not know how I view marriage. I have been protecting my wife from being found out for all these years. I think I have been doing a good job." As the conversation became a little more personal and heated, Cal scrubbed the cloth harder against Greg's skin. "Why, what do you know about marriage?"

"It is about protection, but not like this. If she is married, why does she go and kidnap men? You not good enough in the sack?"

"It would be wise for you to not badmouth the person who has you tied to a bed." Cal replied to his brash comment. "Another purpose of a husband to his wife is to provide. And provide I do. My wife, she has a liking for the pain of others. So, when she finds men on her outings, she'll tell me who and where, and I'll go gather them for her, with her help. You were a special one, she wanted to be very much a part of your capture."

Greg flinched as Cal finished with his face, and started with his bloody chest. The lukewarm water felt refreshing, as it cooled his fire-like skin and cleansed him from the dirt and blood that had caked it, but still when the water hit the open wounds, he flinched. "You're fucking twisted."

"No. You see, I love my wife, and I give her whatever she wants. If that thing is you, so be it. She is a much more sensual person than I am."

"Yeah, that's what all the small ones say."

"Shut up, or I will have to make my wife very disappointed. I'm not unopposed to killing you."

Greg shut up then, resigned to letting Cal keep sponging the grime and blood off of his blistered skin. Greg wasn't feeling a million bucks by any means, but he was awake enough now that he would try once more to find a way out. He looked out the window, so see the sun once more starting its descent below the mountains and plains, allowing the moon to radiate its pale beauty upon the darkened Earth while she was adorned with chains of stars. From his position, he could not see the street below. Greg pulled on his arms once more, as numb as they were, and he strained his chest and shoulder to pull away.

Greg's shirt was now completely gone, and his chest was bared for the world to see. It wasn't a rare occurrence for him to go without a shirt, heck; all he went around in his apartment was a pair of pants, or maybe just boxers if it were especially warm. In here though, in the plain sight of two very crazy people, he felt very naked. He now had an acute sense of how raped women must feel, forced to bare their most secret forms for a complete stranger, while a precious thing is stolen from them.

Raped. Hard to believe, but he was becoming more and more aware of what Janine had in mind. He was going to be one of the odd statistics. It wasn't very often at all that a man was the victim of a sexual attack, especially a grown one, and even more of a rare occurrence that the woman was the assaulter. It made him feel so helpless, a failure to the masculinity to which he was supposed to be born to as a male. All in all, it was shameful and embarrassing, and he didn't realize that he really had no control over it.

"You know, my wife has told me you have been very resisting to her advances, even with being threatened with death."

"Yeah, well, when you're in my position, you don't have much to lose."

Cal thoughtfully paused. "You love that other woman, don't you?"

Greg looked at him, his expression as stoic as Grissom's usually was. "Now why would I tell you that, when it is clearly none of your business?"

"That is my answer then." Cal replied. He continued to clean the cuts, Greg giving him the silent treatment. "Now come on, boy, we may as well have a civil conversation."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Then I will talk, and you may feel free to reply to me when you wish." Cal said, getting up and going to the bathroom to retrieve more water. "You should at least allow that courtesy to the man who saved your life. I was the one who dug you up."

Greg snorted. "You want a thank you card or something? Get a life."

"I do not expect one." Cal said. Greg heard running water and he took this time to fight the waves of pain, washing over him like the never ending lapping on a beach, and sit up. It gave him a better look of the place, if anything. He looked out the window through the fading light, and tried to identify where he was. He saw a few cars flit by on the street, oblivious to what was happening inside the seemingly innocent house that he was a prisoner in. As he sat, his blistered stomach fought with him every step of the way, and he groaned with the effort. But, it gave his arms a bit of a break, which he was thankful for.

The cool water now condensing on his skin from where Cal was cleaning him made Greg shiver, and combined with the heat emanating from his burns he felt feverish. He wished to God that he had some water to drink and stop the itchiness in his throat; his lips seemed to be contesting with the dryness of the Nevada desert itself. Ironic, in a morbid sense, that he was only a few hours ago nearly drowning in the stuff, and he hadn't felt the least bit thirsty. Now he felt like a raisin, shrivelled and completely void of water.

Greg cast a glance around the room. It was seriously creeping him out. In the pale light of a bedside table he could see unlit candles lined the shelved walls and potpourri scents filled the air. There was champagne in an ice bucket on the opposite bedside table. Any other day, any other situation, this was what would be going through his mind, except there was no fear, no hesitation, only the passion, outpouring of heartfelt feelings, and Sara with him through it all.

Sara. His eyes became teary at her thought. Would he ever see Sara again, and see her smile and laugh. Apparently, she never seemed to do that very much, but when Greg was around, all she ever seemed to do was laugh and smile. Would he ever have another chance to work with her, flirt with her, ask her out? He didn't know, but he wished he did.

"You are thinking of her now."

Greg looked up at Cal, coming near him with a new bowl of water and a new cloth. Greg shot daggers at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play me. I know that look. You are thinking of the woman, Sara, right?" Before Greg could ask how the hell he knew about her, he answered him. "Janine told me about how she was, 'a traitorous little slut.'"

"Do not talk about her like that." Greg emphasized angrily.

But this only seemed to amuse Cal. "Making threats when you are tied up? You must really like her."

"I love her." "Oops." Greg let it slip by mistake, and he cursed himself for it.

"Janine will not be pleased."

"I don't give a damn about Janine." Greg said icily, watching Cal warily. "She is a twisted maniacal monster, and she'll burn in hell!"

"I doubt she'll like that either. But, if you don't learn to control your tongue, she'll certainly have her fun with you. Not that she won't make you suffer anyways. You want my advice?" Cal asked, looking at Greg with a genuine face, surprising him.

"You're not mocking me?" Greg asked back.

"No. Believe it or not, I'm not completely like my wife."

Cal was willing to give him advice, but what the hell good would that do? Greg considered his situation, while he looked out the window again. He forced his eyes, however tired they were, to train themselves to that little street sign on the intersection. And then, in a triumphant flash, he caught the words that were there. And likewise, another wily plan appeared in his minds eye. "I don't need advice, I need to make a deal." Greg said, looking at Cal.

Cal looked upon him with daring interested eyes. "You are a bold one, aren't you? What kind of deal are you proposing?"

"One phone call, just like the movies." Greg said, a last ditch plan forming in his head.

"Janine wouldn't like that…" Cal started, but Greg was not to be deterred.

"You love your wife, right? And would do anything for her, right? Well, I love someone too. Please," Greg pleaded, "let me speak to her for one last time."

"You are not serious?" Sara asked Hodges with a small smile. "Really?"

"Yes, Sara, the stuff in the needle is ketamine, an anaesthetic. And as you know, it's used in hospitals for animals, and humans."

"Ahh, thanks Hodges." Sara thanked him distractedly as she was already making her way from the lab, leaving him very confused as how that was going to help get Sanders back. Sara briskly made her way to an empty lab with a computer, and seated herself down. Quickly scanning through all the hospital databases, she brought up all the places that use ketamine, and then their employee list. The directory was long, and she signed. It would take her forever to go through the names, and even then it was a long shot that he was here. Only the largest practices were on the list.

"Hey, Sara," Nick greeted as he walked in after her. "Hodges said you'd be in here."

"Not now Nick," Sara said, trying to scan through the names as fast as humanly possible. "I may have a lead."

"Yeah, Hodges told me about the needle's contents, and I…" He started to tell her, but Sara interrupted him.

"No, Nick, we don't have time. I'm looking through the Desert Palms Hospital employee records, and seeing if I can find a 'Cal'. And I feel like I'm the only one doing anything! The last time I spoke with Greg, that little slut had her tied to her bed, and she was doing something horrible to him, and…" She looked at Nick, who looked plain bewildered at her outburst. "Aren't you going to say something to stop me?"

"Sar, we're not in competition. We're all trying to get Greg back. And to do that we need to work together and share what we know. Hell, we wouldn't have known about your last conversation with Greg if Lily hadn't told us. The fact that he's not buried anymore is good, but now that she's closer to him, he may be in more danger."

"Nick, she's going to...ra-ra…seduce him if we don't find him in the next few hours, and she's a sadist, so who knows what shape Greg will be in if don't find him soon. And," She added with exasperation, "We have very little to go on."

"Not so Sara." Nick said, continuing when she looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "While you were on a one-man mission, we got another case. A small animal practice that deals with livestock called in to say some of their anaesthetics were stolen. Wanna guess the kind?"

"Ketamine." Sara said, catching on to what Nick was saying.

"Exactly. And the animal practice is up in Summerlin."

"Oh, that's it!" Sara said, jumping up from her seat. "But we don't know who stole the drugs. It's still an open case."

"Au contraire, Sara." Nick said, a smile getting wider and wider on his face. "The practice is small, and the owner said that this has happened before. He thinks one of his only employees did it, a man by the name of 'Cal Platt.'"

Sara looked at him. "Cal Platt…Cal Platt, as in the Cal we've been searching for! Do you have an address?"

"Not exactly, and the owner wasn't sure, but he says that he's seen Cal drive to a house in the vicinity of," He pulled out the map he had carried with him and showed her a block of houses, "here." He grabbed Sara's arm. "Come on Sara, let's go."

"Wait." Sara said, dragging on Nick who was making off with her arm. "Don't we need back-up, or a warrant?"

Nick looked incredulously at her. "This is the same Sara who blew up at the boss man?" Nick shook his head. "I already told Brass my theory, and he's attempting to get a warrant, but it may be too late for Greg by then. And let me honest, Greg means more than a crummy reprimand from Ecklie. Warrick is waiting for us in the car. Come on Sara, let's save Greg."

Sara nodded. First the case was going too slow, and with just one clue and it was going too fast. They were actually going to save Greg? Now? He would be back with her? "Let's go then."

Are our young'un CSI's going to do something brash, bold, and probably unsafe? ...Maybe? Haha, you'll have to find out, won't ya? And yes, onyl like, two, three chapters left at the most. Like I've said, enjoy the reading!