A/N: As usual, thanks to those who found the time to review as well as to my beta TangledPencils.

Fire and water

by Nicol Leoraine

Chapter 17

It looked almost ridiculous how two of the men dragged themselves along, each one swaying toward the rock face, keeping as far from the edge as possible. The third one hovered anxiously around them wanting to help, but as his earlier offers of support were all but waved off, he was reduced to watching them struggle along. With a shrug he decided to keep a watchful eye on them, secretly expecting both of them to fall, because really, Grissom didn't think they'd make it too far. For the fifth time in the last two minutes, he pulled out his cell phone and looked at the display, only to stop in the middle of the road.

"I've got a signal," he announced and already his fingers were pushing the speed dial he had for Jim Brass' number.

"Thank god," Nick sighed and also stopped, leaning against the rocky slope for support. The world was swirling all around him and he felt dangerously lightheaded. He knew it was more from the blood loss than anything else, but still it didn't make him feel any better. Hearing Grissom finally talking with Brass was a great relief. He didn't even know when he slid down to the ground, but when he opened his eyes he saw that Travis was sprawled in a similar fashion only a few feet from him. Dejection, pain and fatigue all leant a deathlike quality to his features, and Nick realized his friend's appearance was aptly described by the phrase 'death warmed up'.

"They're already on their way," Grissom reported as he closed his cell, then frowned when he saw the position Nick was in.

"Are you okay, Nicky?"

"Yeah, just cool," Nick replied and glanced at Travis. "It's him I'm concerned with," he mumbled then with a sigh turned back to Grissom.

"So, who are 'they'?"

"Grissom?" Nick called out a little louder when the man failed to react to his question. Just how serious was this hearing problem of his? Nick knew he would need to have a longer talk with the Entomologist about that. He repeated the CSI's name and this time Grissom reacted.

"Hm?" he looked distraught and had a frown on his face, which wasn't really surprising. The world had just gone totally silent. No sounds of the wind, no night critters making their noise. No sound coming from Nick even though he'd seen his mouth moving.Then all of a sudden, as if someone flipped on a light switch, it was all back. Grissom had to shake his head just to get his bearings back. He hoped the younger man hadn't noticed his lapse, but seeing the sudden look of concern on Nick's face he knew this was a futile wish.

"I'm sorry. You were saying?"

"You talked with Brass and told me they are coming. Who, exactly?"

"Oh, I think Catherine's on her way too, with another patrol car."

Nick took in the unhappy look on his supervisor's face and cringed.

"I take it he wasn't happy with us."

"That's mildly put, Nick," Grissom sighed and grimaced, while Nick simply banged his head against the rock.

"God, you told him it wasn't our fault, right?"

"I didn't really have much time to explain the situation, Nick," Grissom said with a hint of shame, and Nick wondered if the older man was hoping that Jim Brass might develop instant laryngitis, just so he wouldn't be able to deliver the lecture he was probably already working on. He felt a sudden urge to laugh and couldn't stop the chuckle.

"What is so funny?" Grissom asked with a frown.

"Man, I am just glad I can fake passing out from blood loss if he starts his lecture." Nick heard a strangled snort from the body next to him, letting him know that Travis was still among the living, and could appreciate their dilemma. The only one not seeing the humor in it was obviously Grissom who kept scowling at the two men, but at the same time looking as if he wished a rock had just fallen from the sky and knocked him unconscious. That look only deepened when they all heard the sirens approaching, and the familiar blue and red lights appeared, blinking in the distance.

To announce their presence, Grissom turned on his flashlight and pointed it to the sky, standing over Nick and off the road so that he couldn't be accidentally hit by the car. Soon, two cars pulled over and the blaring of the sirens stopped, much to everyone's relief, although he would've appreciated the sirens over what was to come any time.

"God, Grissom, what the hell were you two thinking?" was the first thing he heard from Jim Brass when the man get out of the car. Grissom was still squinting from the head-lights of the car that were pointed right at the trio, so he couldn't see the detective's face, but he had quite a good idea what expression would be on it if he could.

Grissom took a deep breath, deciding that maybe leading the attack first wasn't such a bad idea.

"We were trying to call you, Jim," Grissom started, only to be stopped by a raised hand.

"You should've called for back-up, dammit! And what the hell happened to these two?"

"Nick! My god, are you alright?" that was Catherine and suddenly Nick looked just as uncomfortable as Grissom felt.

'Serves you right,' Grissom thought then turned back to Brass.

"Look, I will explain everything but we don't have time for that now. You need to send out an APB on our killer and on Jonah's car. Travis should be able to give you the description of the car, we didn't see it. The killer is possibly still somewhere near, you should set up road blocks on every road that leads out from Red Rock Canyon to Vegas. It would be good to call out the dogs, he may still be on foot. Nick also managed to shoot him-"

"Whoa!" the detective stopped him in the middle of the sentence, looking grim and slightly confused. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, more than a little irritated and Grissom had to take another breath, before he started explaining the situation.

Nick in the meanwhile had to deal with a rather pissed off and concerned Catherine. The fact that Travis looked more in the need of some medical care was his only hope to steering the attention from himself.

"It's just a scratch, really," he repeated for the third time when Catherine eyed the red stained bandage on his side. "I am alright," he said and to prove his point, tried to stand up. He managed to get himself vertical, only to end up lying on the ground without the faintest idea how he got there.

'Damned blood loss', Nick thought and groaned, feeling someone press a new bandage on his side.

"Yeah, I can see that, Nicky," Catherine muttered, for the moment thankfully leaving the lecture behind, but somehow Nick was sure he'd get it sooner or later. "Just stay stillan ambulance is on the way."

"I don't need-" Nick started but groaned instead as Catherine pushed harder onto his side.

"Sorry. You were saying?"

"Urgh, nothing," he mumbled, scowling at her. She only smiled and took his hand, steering it to the bandage. "Just keep some pressure on it. I'm going to look at your friend."

Blinking, Nick looked around and realized he must've been out of it for more then just a few seconds. Grissom was by the car talking quietly to Brass who was relaying some details on his cell phone. The dirt road they were on was lit by the light of several car head-lights and Nick just then noticed there were two more police cars. Frowning, he thought he could see another set of blinking lights approaching.

Nick looked to where Travis lay and found his sight was blocked by an officer and Catherine.

"How is he?"

"Alive," Catherine replied somehow curtly and Nick winced at the tone. She looked back at him, almost accusingly. "You could've both been killed, Nick!"

For a moment he wondered if she meant him and Travis, or Grissom. By the way she looked it didn't really matter, Nick realized.

"It's not like we knew what would happen, Cath," he tried to explain but seeing her scowl, he refrained from adding anything else.

"Exactly! You didn't know, but still you wanted to play heroes!"

Nick really wanted to be pissed. Hell, he felt the anger building from the moment the cavalry arrived. Since then all he heard was scolding and reprimands all around. He was surprised that Grissom took it so calmly, but then he really looked at Catherine and beneath all the scolding he saw fear and concern. And truth be told, he would've probably acted the same way if he found out two of his colleagues just walked into an ambush. So instead of blowing a gasket, he just smiled at her reassuringly and then Nick did something that probably canceled out that smile. For second time in so many minutes, he passed out.

xxxxx

The warehouse wasn't as big as he thought it would be, but still in the quietness of the night, it was eerily still and full of dark shadows. He allowed himself to turn on only the lights in the office, the only closed off room that was slightly above all the boxes and crates that were filling the warehouse.

Jonah didn't know what was in the crates, though the Master let him know it was just a cover. He probably rented the warehouse and let one of his 'friends' use it as storage. After all, what he needed was just that office and the place to hide if anything turned out wrong. It was also the place Jonah hated more than anything. Not the place alone, more like the idea behind it, the sole purpose. The warehouse meant they were in trouble. And being in trouble was bad, especially if he was the one that caused it. Sure, he should've told the Master about him having a record, but he thought nobody could access it. Maybe the guy that followed him to the apartment was his fault, but damn, that guy wasn't even a cop. Well, Jonah still didn't know who the guy was, but he was sure it didn't matter anymore. Either the Master succeeded and the men following them were all dead, or the Master was dead or caught. If he'd been caught, then Jonah was in trouble. It never occurred to him that there was also a fourth option.

Jonah had arrived at the warehouse without trouble, though there was more life on the street than usual. It was still too hot to sleep so people would rather go out, the air and slight breeze a welcome relief. For a moment Jonah had been very tempted to just stop the car and get out, to try his luck at the casino and win some money, get a ticket on the bus and simply leave the city, leave Nevada and go somewhere where the weather was cool and where no one knew who the Master was or what he'd done. Canada sounded like a pretty good idea.

These were only fleeting thoughts of someone who didn't really have any inclination to leave. It would mean he had to take his life into his own hands, to start taking charge, to start being responsible. But Jonah couldn't, and that left him in that warehouse with dark shadows and strange sounds and the fear of what will come. He'd never needed his dose more than now, but he couldn't, the Master took it before they left the building.

So here he was, pacing the small office, casting nervous glances into the darkness behind the windows, one hand unconsciously playing with the knife he'd found in one of the drawers. He couldn't stop shaking and he wasn't really sure if it was the need for another dose or simply the fear of what lay ahead of him. When he closed his eyes he could see the faces of the people he'd helped kill, the wreck of the car at the bottom of the canyon. He knew that if the Master was successful, more people would die and Jonah finally started questioning it. Why were they killing these people?

The words his Master told him every time he asked rang in his head but they weren't making any sense. Not without the dose of crystal meth that helped to clear hismind. Without it, nothing made sense anymore, only the feeling of wrongdoing persisted,like a bad taste after a hangover. Jonah let out an angry growl and threwthe knife at the door. It embedded in the wood and stayed there. Taking a deep breath, Jonah walked over to it and pulled it out, not caring for the now visible holein the door. He felt the fear turn into rage and hunger. He needed to get rid of it, and the only way that was going to happen was to kill someone. Focus all his fears onto one person and kill them, and in doing so, kill all the fear. It was only a temporary solution, because the fear always returned, often bringing the feeling of guilt. This was somethingJonahcould deal with. His hands started playing with the knife, turning it around, feeling itsweight. It meant security, it meant power. He needed to feel it, to have something that made him feel safe.

Somewhere a door creaked and he heard the sound of an engine echoing through the warehouse. He jumped, startled, and rushed to the door, opening it slightly. It wasn't a car, he knew that right away. Maybe a bike. Jonah frowned. He didn't know the Master owned a motorbike. But then the man could've easily hitched a ride. What he did know was that it wasn't the cop.

Still he couldn't stop the shiver that run down his spine. If it was the Master it meant the people following them were dead. That meant complications – something the master hated.

Jonah cringed when the sound of the engine stopped right below the office and the sound of hard steps echoed through the building.

"Well well, I see you didn't fuck up this time, Jonah," the Master said sarcastically when he saw the young man standing half frozen behind the desk. "Maybe I will let you live after all," he said with a sneer and closed the door.

TBC