Title: In Hell With Love

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan.

Author's notes: I hate myself for making you all wait so long. I really do. I don't mind if you all feel the same way.

To jdcocoagirl (always one of the first to review my story. To bring out such an emotion from you in the previous chapter is such an honour. Hope you'll like this one too), Poison's Ivy (LoL. One of the few reviews where a reader swears. Not at me of course. Thanks for your awesome review. Love ya), xoSnickersxo (your review made me jump and I spend the next few days under the bed. Haha. But it's always a joy to read your reviews and your stories.), apcJodi (you have this talent of making a short review remain in my mind for the longest time. Thank you –grins), Fiddle-faddle (reading your review made me wished I had updated sooner. I'm so sorry for making you wait. Hope you haven't forgotten about this story.), Miranda (I love that you appreciate the pace of my story. I was getting worried that people might get bored with it after awhile. I usually put in a lot of thought in my stories, rushing kinda goes against that. Thank you - hugs), Gear's Girl (Thanks for your review. I really like your response to the previous chapter –smile), leana9101 (Yay! Cheers to you too, dear. I'm really glad you like the previous chapter - hugs), fanficaddict (I'm really, really sorry for making you wait. I do try my best to update and I do put in a lot of effort to make this story worth reading for you. I hope you'll like this chap.), Meg-Breanne (Thank you so much for your understanding. Life does have its ups and downs. It's weird that I always look forward to your reviews. They are always, without a doubt, inspirational – grin), necira (yay! You reviewed. I'm really happy that you did and that you found my fics intriguing and well written. Love ya lots), CrazyGunFire (I glad that you're still reading my stories. I've stopped watching CSI as well due to the lack of time but hopefully, I haven't messed up the characters' personalities yet. Let me know how I'm doing k), Mma63 (I'm so sorry I didn't get to update sooner when I said I would. Reading your review for this reply made me feel really bad. I'm really sorry. Hopefully this long chap will make up for it –hugs), Rach5 (Hey Rach, thanks for your review. I'm trying my best to tone down the angst level for you. Hopefully you'll like this chap. Let me know if you do k), dolphin18paradise (Yay! I'm glad you think so. I'm really hoping that each update will get better and better. Thanks for your review), Olie (Hey Olie! I hope you're still reading this story. Sorry for the extremely long update. I'm really glad that this is your new fave story. Hope you're still checking in for an update. Miss ya lots.), whashaza (Thanks for your review. No worries, the CSIs will figure it out eventually. Hope you'll like this update), bene (to my very last reviewer, thank you for your review. It made me remember to update this story. Its really great to hear from you again –smile)

Thank you all for your review. This was the first time I've gotten 18 reviews! That's awesome. Because of that – and the fact that I took so long to update—I wrote a really long chapter for you all. (Will I get 20 reviews this time?)

Someone PM me saying that he wanted to know what went on before Sara was rescued. I thought it was a good idea so I decided to put it in my story. That person did not want to be credited but just in case he's reading this, thank you for the idea. This chap is for you.


Chapter 22

And wherever a man is against his will, that to him is a prison.

- Epictetus -

-------------------------

He said that she was the one—the special one chosen by him. She often wondered how that could be since there was no way anyone would treat someone special like this.

It's odd though. For so long, that's all she ever wanted to be.

She laid quietly on the cold, dank floor. The sound of water oozing from a leaking pipe prevented her from closing her eyes, hitting the ground at irregular intervals that made her eyelids twitch in its rhythm. She was surrounded by the familiar darkness; all she could see were silhouettes of things she did not know, or things she knew, which were probably dead by now. The ground around her felt sticky, a puddle crawling with life from the wound on her shoulder. He had gone too far. He had never hurt her this bad before…

But… maybe it was a good thing. For once, his precise calculated moves had shifted to a whole other balance, to a whole new world that might tip to her favour. Maybe she had to suffer a little to get a whole lot... or was it the other way round?

She stared at the silver lining beneath the door. It kept her company for so long, she felt that it was her only friend in this hellhole. She might have given it a name, but right now, she can't remember what. Its glow gave her this shimmer of hope and yet, at the same time, reminded her of things she could not have. As she indulged in her reminiscence of her lost memories, she heard his footsteps descending down the wooden stairs. A small shadow parted her thin silver lining and she knew... That's how she knew he was coming. And he was coming back for her...

To fix what he broke...

He'll always come back for her. Even if she managed to get away, he'll never leave her alone…

"What are you dreaming about?" He softly asked as he looked at her face. "I wish I knew...what's going on in your mind..."

Together on the cold hospital floor, Nick laid beside Sara's sleeping form, face to face, just a few inches away from her. His face was just far enough not to frighten her half to death when she woke up, but yet, close enough to make her feel safe during this horrible ordeal. Moments ago, he had laid her down slowly on her messy blanket pile after he felt her tight grip loosen around his shirt. As her sobs died down and her bitter exhaustion took over her whole body, Nick felt relieved that Sara finally managed to get some sleep— on her own terms and without sedatives. But even in her dreams he knew that Sara was plagued by the constant reminder of what had happened, or—quite possibly— the lack of it. Memories piecing into her soul like fragmented glass on a broken window. He imagined how it was like in her dreams, and wondered if she could tell the difference between waking and sleep. But within that same moment, he shook his head in response to his own thoughts as he knew that, both universes would be a nightmare to her existence either way.

Nevertheless, he did what he could to make sure she was comfortable. He placed a pillow under her head and positioned her arms in a way that the wires and tubes would not hurt her. He brushed her hair out of her face and with the steady hands that only a CSI could possess, he wiped her tears from her face. But at each wipe, Sara tucked her chin towards her neck, as if not wanting to be touched and Nick decided not to do what she did not want him to do.

A tear had made its way to the tip of her nose. Nowhere else to go and hanging on for dear life, it threatened to fall with each and every breath she took. Nick rescued it with his feather-soft touch, balancing it with ease on his finger. He watched as the fading light in the room captured its outline and wondered how something so beautiful could come out of such a tragic emotion. It made him sad to imagine how many droplets such as this had gone unnoticed while Sara was away.

"Hey…" said a voice by the door. Nick turned to see Catherine walking into the room, with two cups of coffee in her hands. He hadn't notice that his hour was up, and it was Catherine's turn with Sara.

Sara's tear rolled off his finger and landed on the floor and he couldn't help but feel a huge sense of loss.

"How is she?"

Nick sat up as Catherine treaded gently towards them. "Asleep…"

"Sedated?"

"Nope… first time since she got here"

Catherine took her place beside Nick and watched Sara as she slept. She was buried deep in white hospital sheets with the only sign of life being her deep breathing and the bleeps on monitor.

"She's doing better… at least physically. Her injuries are healing the way they should. But the doctors are still a little concern and worried about complications. But apart from a fever, she is doing better…"

Catherine looked on. As much as she wanted to believe Nick, the image before her was anything but better. Sara looked like an outline of an artist's rough sketch. Just lines and shapes that were slowly fading away.

"That's good to know…" she replied absentmindedly.

"She responded to me a while ago. But she still hasn't told me anything. Is it alright with you if I stay a little longer with her?"

Catherine was about to answer when Nick said, "She's going to panic when she awakens. I can tell, just by looking at her, that her dreams are not good."

She pondered about what Nick said. Whenever Sara awakens from her sedation, she would just lay where she was, too tired and sluggish to move. And once the drugs in her system wear off after a few hours, she would be too afraid to leave the room, staying within her comfortable shadow of isolation until the next dose arrives. The sedatives that she was given –according to the doctors— will put her in a deep, dreamless state, as the sole purpose of the drugs was to help her body rest.

A telltale sign of a nightmare was an increase heart rate. Sara's heartbeat was above normal.

The nightmare has just begun…

He opened the door and light spilled into the room like a glass of milk on the black kitchen floor. Its radiance was just out of reach but she managed— with tremendous effort— to touch it with the tips of her fingers. In the light that looked like a glowing tent, she watched the dust motes settle to the ground. Just another one of her inanimate friends, allowing her to distract herself as the devil himself draws near.

Walking from the light, he stood before her and the glittering dust motes swirled away. She tried to look up at him but her pounding skull was too heavy. She stared at his shoes as he came closer and she knew how she was supposed to act at that very moment. Kicking and screaming seemed appropriate. Running would have been even better. But she didn't. She couldn't. She was too tired. For every moment of every day, since she's been here, she never had the strength to do anything else...

In her sluggish breathing, she smelt the dull scent of menthol cigarettes, and knew that her death would mean nothing to this man if he's willing to go out for a smoke while she bled in his dark secret room. As he took his last step towards her, his shoes left an aroma of the desert and she wondered why she hadn't appreciated it more when she was alive and well. It reminded her of the beach, and she prayed that there would be white sands waiting for her if she ever gets to heaven…

The human race's ever wanting desire, is to get to heaven…

The question is, is she still a part of that human race?

"I have this feeling, that once she awakens, she would act the same way she did when she first opened her eyes in this room."

As he said that, Catherine looked at the band-aid on his face. A reminder of whatever happens when a person sets his hopes on things as fragile as the human memory.

"I'm not sure of what to do when that happens…"

"When the time comes, you'll know what to do."

Nick was distracted by the wound on Sara's collarbone, so she prompted. "Sara has been through a lot. I'm sure you already know that. The worst she has suffered was being alone, feeling unloved, having no one. There is nothing worse than the feeling that no one cares whether we exist or not, that no one is interested in what we have to say about life, and that the world can continue turning without our awkward presence. Because when you're alone, it's like as if you were no longer part of the human race…"

Nick was beginning to think that Catherine has been hanging out with Grissom too much since they've found Sara. They were beginning to sound alike.

"So make her a part of that human race again. You'll know what to do when that time comes."

Nick thanked Catherine as she headed out of the room, promising to be back once she's done talking to Brass. The moment he was alone with Sara, Nick knew what he had to do. He was the only one who could can her feel like a person, instead of a captive mind dragging a useless bag of bones behind it.

He could only hope that she felt the same way…

If only feeling was an option…

He gently pushed her on her back to get a closer look at her wound. She felt the dirty ground pushing against her back. Her waxy blood around her had stuck her skin to the floor, acting like a fuel that burnt every muscle and cell surrounding her spine. She felt a cool ripple of tears gathering at the corners of her own eyes. Some droplets broke free and flowed unhindered down her face. She heard him cursed under his breath as he looked at her wound.

While he was pondering what to do next, she stared right at his face and knew that no matter how hard she looked, she would not be able to remember what he looked like. Just another fascinating nature of human survival; to filter out whatever hurts, to avoid whatever harms, to fear whatever torments—so that the body can live another day, thinking that it's possible for the human mind to be absolutely happy. For the many months she had been here, his face was like a piece of smooth clay on a turntable. But she knew that when the time was right, she would be able to pick him out of a faceless crowd, or a messy police line-up filled with everyday monsters that looked almost alike each other.

A monster… is that what he is?

He turned away for a moment and took out a needle and thread; his weapon of choice for the moment. As he inched closer, he told her it was her fault and everything happened because of her…

He says that all the time and she was starting to believe him…

Like a ragged doll with broken seams, she laid on the ground as he stitched her wound. She felt the thread rub against her skin like rope burns on hands and she held her breath as her skin merged together to close the wound.

She wished someone would come through those doors and save her. But no one came and she was left alone with a man who obviously never stitched anything in his life, let alone a human wound…

Just as Nick predicted, Sara woke up and the first thing she tried to do was to get as far away from him as possible. She opened her eyes, as if startled by a nightmare and tried to head towards the door as Nick grabbed her from behind.

"Remember where you are. Remember who I am…" He said immediately as Sara fought and thrashed about. Nick wondered if its going to be like this, every time she awaken. If so, he vowed to stay with her through every waking moment...

Her breathing and heart rate on the machine added to the chaos that dispelled the silence within the room. Anyone passing by her window would think that the patient was being mistreated - seeing how her outstretched hand reached out for the door- and that Nick was the one administering the abuse. But thankfully, visiting hours were over, nurses were changing shifts and there were no one wandering the halls at that moment.

During the struggle, Nick was hoping that Sara would shout a series of 'no' or 'let me go' – and with any luck, the name of her tormentor behind them—but sadly, none of that happened. She fought hard, sobbed tearfully, and that was it.

He was beginning to worry, as he didn't have to fight as hard as he did the first time. Either Sara was getting physically weaker or…

The struggle took several minutes before Sara began to calm down. In his grip of her, Nick felt the tension in Sara's body melt away and it was only when he was sure that she wasn't going to run for the door did he let go of her. Slowly, he helped her sit up, and moved to face her as he held her hands in his. He looked at her, and noticed that her eyes held confusion, as if she wasn't sure what exactly happened.

"It's alright. You're alright. I know you can recognise me. I can see it in your eyes. Do you know who I am?"

She was rocking back and forth slightly as Nick waited for her answer. With her head bowed and hair covering a portion of her face, Sara looked Nick straight in the eye and he knew the answer.

In her code of silence, Sara's answer was yes.

"Alright…" She heard him say. His voice synchronising with his opened mouth. It took him several minutes to patch her up and within those terrible minutes, she laid there wishing that she had died, and that everything would end forever at that moment. Her tormentor looked anxiously at her. He placed his arm under her back and encouraged her to sit up. The blood rushed into her brain at the speed of light and her vision blurred as he led her to the wall.

He spoke as he fastened the chains onto her hands. His words did not make sense at first but she managed to understand why he positioned her this way. The wound had to be above her heart and he wasn't going to let her sit down at the risk of her falling asleep. He needed her awake for as long as possible.

For her, the worst possible torture was not being able to sleep…

When she finally understood the peril she was in, she tearfully protested that she wouldn't do such a thing. She promised to stay awake till someone came to get her. She promised not to tell. She promised to do anything as long as he doesn't leave her here. He took a syringe out of his pocket and told her that such an action was out of the question. He couldn't risk being caught. He couldn't risk losing her. He apologised as he emptied its contents into her veins. The familiar feel of heroin flowed through her body.

"Watch what you say and do now… don't want your friends to end up like you, right? Remember…I'll be watching you."

Even before he said it, she knew that was coming. Toying with other people's lives was his way of controlling her, driving her insane.

As he walked away from her, she let out a painful, almost animalistic cry, as if she wanted her voice to haunt his dreams and memories if he ever decides to grow a conscience. Anger flowed like the tears on her face and fear lingered like the blood on her clothes. How on earth is anyone going to find her here?

She leaned heavily against her forearms as the light within the room escorted her tormentor out the door. Her muscles were furiously stretching and contracting in order to produce energy to keep herself alive. The cold pierced her skin, her body struggling, teeth chattering, as she told herself that help is on the way. Her muscles refused to obey and she remained like that for hours, until her muscles eventually gave in and stopped shaking as she entered a state of torpor.

During those hours, she was afraid to say or think of anything else— convinced that he could read her thoughts and it would be her fault if her friends were to die because of what she said or did. She stared at the wall before her and remembered a message—as incoherent as it may be— that she carved in her moment of fear and desperation. If her silence was necessary to keep her friends alive, this wall would have to be her voice, and she could only pray that they could understand what she was trying to say…

One of the most baffling phases the two men had ever encountered in their lives...

No man sinned.

They came out with several theories; from religion to sanity, from imagination to emotion. But none of which could explain why Sara would hurt herself, carving words with her nails, if it meant nothing.

"Maybe he's the religious one? Something he said to her?" Warrick guessed.

"It wouldn't serve any purpose. Sara would know that we would have to go through every church or registry to find a suspect. It would be easier for her to carve a cross than to write out a phase."

There was a moment of silence that was so profound that it felt like the world around them had died. No sounds from the front desk, no carts being pushed around, no one talking among themselves. No hope, no joy, no clue, no suspect, no one. It was as if the world had fallen silent because Sara's soul has.

"Didn't one of the kidnapped victim say that this was written on the wall with red paint or blood?" Warrick said, rummaging the table to looking for the victim's file.

Grissom looked on, "Wherever it was, it's not there anymore… "

During their search in at the crime scene, the CSI searched everywhere for the message that one of the kidnapped victims said was on the wall. There was none. Instead, carvings similar to the message on the wall were found, along with scratch marks that belonged to Sara.

"Was she lying?" Warrick asked, disappointed that Grissom didn't join in the search for the file.

"Unlikely. The message is the same. Either it was removed by the suspect or Sara told her to tell that to the police."

They must be on the right track. If Sara mentioned this phase more than once, she was definitely trying to get their attention.

She had his attention. Nick was ecstatic with Sara's progress, no matter how insignificant it may seem. He had managed to understand her code of silence. Whenever she looked towards him between questions, it would mean a 'yes', shake her head slightly means 'no'. Looking away was an indication that she didn't know or she didn't want to talk about it, which Nick respected to a great degree.

"Do you know who I am?"

(Yes)

"Do you know who did this?"

Sara turned away, and Nick concluded that she knew but did not want to say 'yes' to avoid looking at him.

"Want to talk about it?"

(No)

Guess you can't really talk about it… Nick thought, and even after a few more questions, Sara continued to ignore him regarding this matter.

"He threatened you… didn't he?"

She looked at him but quickly turned away, eyes full of regret, as if making a mistake. But Nick saw what he needed to see. He decided to change the subject.

"Can I get you something?"

(No)

"You feeling okay?"

(Don't know)

That's not good, "Are you cold?"

Sara continued to look away, and as he removed his jacket slowly, he realised that he had made a terrible mistake. For the moment the zipper on his jacket made a sound, that left Sara frozen with fear. Tears began streaming down her face and she bit her lip to suppress a cry. Nick cursed in his mind, as the results of a certain medical report nagged in his head.

Without wasting another second, he placed his jacket over her. The weight of its brown material had brought her shoulders an inch closer to the ground. However, the extra skin did calm her down, enough for her to meticulously put her arms through its big, giant sleeves, her hands barely visible at the ends.

Nick heaved a big sigh of relief.

"I'm so sorry." He apologised, "How do you feel now?"

Stupid. 'Yes' and 'no' questions only, his mind mocked and just as he was about to ask another question, Sara slowly grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly.

Nick knew what it meant.

Scared.

Nick's heart swelled with empathy and just as he was about to reassure her, he caught a glimpse of someone at the window. He thought nothing of it but as he turned to look at Sara he knew, that she saw it too.

Someone was coming this way…

Nick grew increasing concerned and uneasy, wondering what—or who— could make Sara this petrified. Still facing the window, Sara's hand tightened around his and could not stop shaking.

He'll always come back for her. Even if she managed to get away, he'll never leave her alone…

Never.

There was a knock on the door…

TBC

Phew. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Sorry once again for taking so long.

I hope you'll leave a review. Whether you hate it, love it, annoyed by it, angry with me for taking so long etc, I'll take any review - smile -

Love you all. Wherever you are, I hope my hugs reaches you. -hugs-