A/N: Sorry for the late update, you can blame some RL and the acting up. Thanks as always to all who reviewed and even to those who didn't but are still keeping reading this monster, and last but not least, to my beta TangledPencils.

Fire and Water

Chapter 29

by Nicol Leoraine

"Just go!" the boy shouted and Nick jerked. He hadn't even noticed the weapon, the Master's gun that had been knocked out of his hand during the fight. All he knew was that one second Jonah was deathly still, looking almost as pale as the corpse next to him, the next his hand was reaching into the shadows and coming back with a gun. All this happened without Nick even reacting, yet he was still alive and bullet free.

"Get – the – hell – out!" Jonah screamed and Nick knew with a shudder that it was a last warning. Slowly he moved, his eyes never leaving the young man who held the gun in a shaking grip. He took one step back, then another, his hands spread in a desperate calming measure, trying to express his need for no further killing. His attention was so totally focused on Jonah that he barely stopped a startled yelp when someone touched his shoulder and pulled him into a room, the door quickly closing behind them.

He'd barely regained his balance when he was turning, his fist already on it's way to the man's jaw when his beleaguered brain finally caught up to his body's instincts and he realized it was Kyle. The muscles in his arm and shoulder clenched and bunched as he stopped the punch only just in time, his fist an inch from Kyle's startled face. Nick's face twisted from the effort, and his entire body twitched in response as he finally managed to relax enough to breathe again, drawing in deep gasping breaths as he dropped his arm and struggled to regain his composure. He patted Kyle on the shoulder to let him know he was ok before bending over and propping his hand on his knee to help his lungs recover, his wounded arm gingerly tucked in to his aching side. Over the quietening sound of his own gasps, his hearing suddenly processed the sound of pained breathing from the other man and he remembered that Kyle had been shot in the shoulder.

'He probably needs that shoulder looked at, it's most likely still bleeding,' Nick thought blearily, his sluggish thoughts slowly starting to take on some semblance of rationality. Despite this thought, his body didn't move…he simply couldn't find the energy to do much more than he was doing just yet. He stayed where he was, his eyes closed now as he fought against the darkness that was threatening to overcome him. When Nick did open his eyes, the dizziness had receded slightly, allowing his muzzy brain to attempt to figure out how to get out. A touch on his good arm brought his head up, and his gaze turning towards the other man, to see him pointing towards the moonlit window.

"Fire…escape," Kyle ground out. Nick blinked in confusion for a moment, and Kyle literally saw the understanding flow into the CSI's eyes as his brain processed the words, turning them from gibberish into something that made sense.

Nick's thoughts sharpened as he took in the fact that he could actually see the shadowy figure beside him due to the eerie light entering the room. Studying the aperture in front of them, he let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding when he also realized it was their means of escape from the inferno that was threatening them.

"No bars," he sighed in relief and took a step toward the window but was stopped when Kyle pushed something into his palm.

"What-?"

"Your gun." Kyle said and looked at him, as if waiting for something.

"Thanks man," Nick spoke, unsure of what to say.

"What...what about him?" Kyle asked, his head nodding toward the door, voice colored by fear and pain. His shoulder hurt, the smoke was making it hard to talk and it was hotter than hell, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that they should do something about the other guy.

Nick felt the weight of the gun but wasn't able to force himself to return to the hall and risk everything. He was just too tired.

Shaking his head, Nick gave a half shrug.

"We need to stay alive and get out," Nick said and without another word headed for the window.

He hadn't come here to arrest Jonah, he'd come to try to keep Kyle from being burned alive. How he'd managed that until now was a miracle on its own and Nick definitely didn't want to try his luck and get into another stand-off situation with Jonah. If the kid wanted to get out of this alive, he would have to take the fire escape just like they would, and Nick would rather not be still standing there when Jonah realized this. Shoving his gun awkwardly back into his holster, he pulled open the window and with a grunt and gritted teeth he climbed over the window sill. When the fresh air hit his face he eagerly gulped for it, while trying to help Kyle over the window sill without jarring his injured shoulder. They were like a pair of soldiers coming from a battle and they felt like it too. For a minute, they just stood there on the fire escape, each of them trying to prepare themselves for the arduous trip down the stairs.

-xXxXx-

They left. Jonah couldn't believe he just let the man go, even though he could have simply shot him. But he did and now he was sitting all alone with a dead body in a hall filled with smoke, the fire already crawling around the walls, finding its way toward him. He was just sitting, the gun in his hand now lying on his lap like a toy.

There was no one left to tell him what to do. His whole life was about being told where to go, what to do and what not. From the moment he was born, his father was giving out orders. But they weren't good orders, not like 'go and do your homework' or 'don't beat up on younger kids'. They were orders like 'buy me a beer', 'get the hell out of my way' and 'stop being such a wimp'. Of course, his mom was taking care of everything else, but still...Jonah learned his way around pretty quickly. The drugs were freedom; the drugs were the way to easier study, to better grades. The drugs meant he could get to the school he wanted, far away from this place. They meant freedom.

But the reality is, things are never that simple. If something gives you what you want, sooner or later it will want something back. And that something often wanted much more than you could afford. Instead of freedom, Jonah was trapped in the vicious circle of a drug user. Even when he managed to escape his old life, he didn't get his freedom. When the Master appeared, Jonah just returned into the normalcy of orders in exchange for the drug. Then he learned something new…something just as powerful as the crystal meth, if not more. And the lust for freedom was replaced by the lust for power over life.

Jonah didn't know who he was. He thought that being a killer meant you thought about nothing but death. That it meant you were prepared to kill at any moment of your life. He didn't feel like that, so he didn't think he was a killer. He even felt guilt once the thrill of the act was over. He hated himself and swore to never do it again. But it was like being addicted to drugs. Once you got a dose you could swear on the life of the person dearest to you that you would never take it again, but he knew that was a lie. Once the withdrawal hits, you would be willing to load the gun that would fire the bullet.

Right now, Jonah was an addict in withdrawal. He needed something to clear his head, to allow him to concentrate, but he knew that once one of his needs was soothed, the other one would want to be satiated too. It was just that way.

Knowing this, it still took Jonah a long moment to decide whether to reach into the pocket of the Master's pants or not. He knew the Master kept a small dose with him when they were heading out for a kill, like some kind of motivation to receive a reward after a well performed job.

When he saw the first flames licking at the floor, heading toward him from the stairs, Jonah's resolve fell and he quickly turned the body so he could reach inside the pocket. Grimacing, he fished out the small packet and opened it with half trembling hands. He needed some control, even if it was the drug that gave it to him.

-xXxXx-

"That's why I am here?" Brass asked exasperatedly, looking at Grissom as if he'd just grown a second head. "Should I remind you that I'm seeing double and have a thumping headache? I couldn't hit jack-shit right now, and you take me for a back-up?"

"It's not like we had much choice," Warrick quipped, trying to find the exit without stepping into any of the crap that was on the floor. They were lucky in that the building next to the one that was burning was already deserted because of the planned demolition. Still he would've liked to find someone with the keys to the exit at the back of the building because his leg was starting to hurt from all the kicking.

"Don't be a smart ass, Brown," the detective replied and this time it was he who opened the door and let them into the back street. Maybe it wasn't the best way to get where they wanted, but it sure was faster than to drive around the whole block of buildings.

Grissom had only taken a few steps on the dirty pavement when his eyes went up to the fire escape. He couldn't see much...the smoke that was coming from the window on the first floor was thick and dark, making it hard to see the higher stairs, yet he was sure there was some kind of movement, some sound.

"Do you see that?" he asked the others and they both gave a silent nod, their guns automatically aimed at the fire escape.

"Nicky?" Warrick shouted and they saw that the motion stopped. Brass cursed the smoke, they could barely see anything and he didn't like that someone was above them, in a much better position to aim if needed.

"Warrick?" came the hoarse reply and the three men gave a collective sigh of relief, Warrick even grinned.

"Man, I am so gonna kick your ass for this," he muttered, shaking his head.

"You'll have to stand in line for that," Brass growled.

"Are you okay, Nick?" Grissom asked, his concern spiking when they heard coughing and a quiet muttering. There was obviously someone else with Nick and they became alert.

"Yeah," Nick replied once he stopped coughing, though he still sounded out of breath. "Kyle's with me...he's been shot. The Master is dead."

"What about Jonah?"

"The kid's…still inside," came a strangled reply from another voice, Kyle.

"He can still cause trouble," the detective said in hushed tone and exchanged a grim look with the other two.

"Do you think you can get down by yourself?" Grissom asked, already knowing that it might be a problem.

"We already tried," Nick called out with a shaking voice that betrayed desperation. "We can't get past the first floor…it's too hot there."

"Damn," Warrick cursed, then looked around. Maybe there was something they could jump into, but then he realised that both men were probably hurt and jumping into a dumpster wasn't the best way to go.

"Warrick, go back to the front and see if the fire brigade is already there. Tell them the situation, they'll know what to bring," Grissom ordered and with a quick nod, he turned to leave when Brass added:

"And tell the EMT's to get their asses here." When Warrick was gone, the detective looked around.

"Jim?"

"I don't like that they're stuck there and the kid is still running around. I want to see what's going on up there." Grissom couldn't but agree with this so he let the detective be, and concentrated on just listening, hoping his hearing wouldn't give out when he really needed it.

"Nicky, help is on the way, just hold on!" Grissom shouted and became concerned when there was no reply.

"Nick?!"

"Uh, we may...have a little problem Gris," came the shaky reply and Grissom froze. He had a feeling that their time had just run out.

TBC

And the last chapter coming as soon as possible