Warning: This chapter has some naughty words in it, so cover your eyes:)
Chapter Six
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A few hours after being admitted to his room Greg began to stir in his sleep. He quietly whimpered as his head slowly rolled from side to side. Jim and Sara stood from where they were sitting on the other side of the room and moved on stiff legs to his bedside.
"Greg." Sara said softly.
His eyelids fluttered in response.
"Griss-" He started to say but cut himself off.
"It's okay, Greg, wake up." She urged.
"Grissom!" Greg yelled.
His eyes shot open and he bolted upright, his face contorted in pain at the sudden, quick movement of his arm.
Jim stood on the opposite side of the bed as Sara and gently, but firmly, put his hands on Greg's shoulders.
"Easy, Greg." He soothed as he gently pushed him back down onto the bed. "You're in the hospital."
The younger man relaxed a little and closed his eyes for a minute before opening them again.
He looked up and the first thing that registered was the tall brunette standing over his right side.
"Sara." He said tiredly.
"Hey, Greg." She smiled. "How do you feel?"
He took a long moment to ponder her question. As the drug induced fog began to lift he slowly examined just how he felt. The only two things that registered was the pain in his right arm and his parched mouth.
"Can I have some water please?"
She smiled and poured water from the pitcher on his bedside table into the plastic cup sitting next to it. She held the cup to his mouth and steadied the straw with her finger so he could take a drink.
She and Jim both chuckled when he greedily emptied the cup.
"What can I say?" Greg smiled sheepishly. "It gets hot in the desert."
She was glad to hear him joking. It made her relax a little at the realization that he would be okay.
"What about Grissom?"
Greg's question sobered the mood in the room.
"Nothing." Jim shook his head.
Greg suddenly looked like he was about to cry.
"Greg?" Sara took his hand. "Greg, what's wrong?"
He had suddenly remembered the picture on Gil's phone and like a flash of lightening the dots connected. He didn't look at Sara, he couldn't. Instead he focused on one of the ceiling tiles above his bed.
"What is it, Greg?" She urged him again.
His breathing became labored, coming and going through his nose. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth he would lose the last of his reserve. Finally after a minute or two he calmed himself enough to speak.
"I'm so sorry, Sara."
His whispering voice seemed to plead with her and she wasn't sure what he was talking about.
"What are you sorry about, Greg?" She sat down on the edge of the bed.
"About Grissom." He inhaled a deep, shaky breath. "I saw the picture on his phone."
Her face softened more when understanding dawned on her and tears came to her own eyes.
"It's not your fault, Greg." She squeezed his hand and he returned the gesture. "It's not because of you that this has happened."
He forced himself to look her in the eye and when he saw nothing but sincerity through her tears new relief washed over him.
After he calmed himself and stopped his crying he looked at Jim.
"I want to give my statement."
Jim looked at Sara then back at Greg.
"Are you sure you don't want to rest a little more and get your head clear?"
"My heads pretty clear" He argued.
Jim very much doubted it but took out his notepad anyway and prepared to start writing.
Just after Jim had finished writing down all that Greg had said Catherine burst through the door. She was a little out of breath and hope was evident on her face.
"We have a lead." She almost yelled with excitement.
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Gil bolted awake as the ice cold water hit him in the face and chest and washed down over him. He tried to gasp for air and was momentarily confused when he couldn't. The man in front of him laughed sadistically and grabbed a handful of his hair, violently yanking his head back.
Gil grunted around the large rubber ball still keeping his mouth uncomfortably open. He took short, quick breaths through his nose. His bleary eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to focus through the bright, overhead light and the water dripping into his eyes. When his vision cleared he was surprised to be looking at the face of a man, not a black ski mask. The man laughed again and reached behind Gil's head, causing him to flinch. He unhooked the leather strap and pulled the gag ball out of Gil's mouth. Gil flexed his aching jaw and studied the man.
He recognized him as the one he had designated as Cronk. He was tall, at least a little over six feet, and had a large, very muscular build which bulged under his tight tee shirt. His white skin was quite a contrast to his all black attire and the light shined off his clean shaven head. His face, also clean shaven, looked rough. Like one that he would expect to see one someone who had been in too many fist fights. His dark eyes glared at him.
Gil looked beyond him and saw the well dressed man looking back at him with a smile. He too had removed his mask and was casually leaning against the wall. His brown hair was neatly combed back and his lightly tanned skin looked well cared for.
The suited man and Cronk both looked to be in their late thirties or early forties, but it was a little hard to tell for sure. To Gil's right, sitting on the table that stood against the wall, was a much younger man. His spiked red hair was highlighted with green streaks that matched his jade colored eyes. His restless legs kicked back and forth under the table. He reminded Gil of the high number of punks that he'd had to deal with in his career and thought for a second that Bonzo was a fitting name, but this time was different. This time they were in control, they were calling the shots and he continued to keep his joke to himself.
Cronk stepped back and set down the bucket he had used to administer his wake up call.
"Do you know who we are?" Asked the suited men as he sauntered towards Gil.
Gil searched their faces. He thought he recognized Cronk from somewhere but wasn't sure. He didn't recognize the other two and he looked back at the suited man.
"Does the name, John Shelling, ring any bells?"
Gil thought hard. His mind sifted through years of cases, but he still drew a blank. The man pulled up a wooden chair and sat in front of Gil, their knees almost touching.
"Ten years ago." The suited man continued. "You put him in prison for the supposed murder of three girls."
Suddenly it all came back to him. As he recalled, Shelling had been convicted of murdering his three teenage daughters. Gil had been the lead investigator on the case and all evidence was conclusive, he was guilty.
"I remember," Gil nodded. "He murdered his three daughters."
The suited man slapped Gil hard across the face. He tried to put his hands up only to find they were still shackled to the back of the chair.
"Shut your goddamn mouth! They were fucking whores!" He yelled, surging to his feet. "Just like their bitch of a mother!"
Suddenly calming, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, metal clip. He opened and closed it for Gil to see. He wanted to make sure that Gil got a good look at it… and he did. He instantly recognized it as a roach clip and its rows of sharp teeth twinkled in the light. Panic slowly began to rise in him as he wondered what this man intended to do with it.
"John Shelling was my brother." The man continued and Gil paled. "Do you know what prison is like for a man like my brother?"
Gil forced his eyes away from the clip and up to meet Shellings. Shelling slapped him hard across the face again then grabbed his hair and yanked his head down until his chin pressed into his chest.
"Don't you fucking dare look me in the eye! Who the fuck do you think you are? You think you're better than me?!" He screamed as he violently shook Gil's head, never easing his grip on Gil's hair. "Answer me!"
"No!" Gil managed through his clenched teeth.
"No what?!" Again he violently shook Gil's head.
"No, sir!"
He threw Gil's head to the side as he let go of his hair.
A dull headache began where Shelling had almost ripped out a clump of Gil's hair.
"My brother's cell mate made him his bitch on his first night there." Shelling continued. "Have you ever been fucked in the ass?"
The question was blunt and Shelling bent down so that his nose was almost touching Gil's. Gil's breathing became like panting as he focused on Shellings' shoes. He didn't like where this conversation was going and he swallowed hard before shaking his head no.
"In due time."
Shelling's voice dripped with venom and he stood back up. He rolled the clip between his fingers as he seemed to be amused by it.
"You've never had to watch a loved one slowly suffer and deteriorate, have you, Grissom?"
He couldn't say that he had. Shelling was done with this conversation, he'd had enough and it was evident in his tone.
"You will die, Grissom, there is no question about that. The question is," He smiled sadistically. "How much will you suffer before dying. Open your mouth."
When he didn't comply Shelling waved Cronk forward. The body builder stepped behind Gil and grabbed a handful of his hair, again yanking his head back, and with his other hand he forced Gil's bottom jaw open.
"Stick out you tongue." Shelling ordered coldly.
As much as he could Gil curled his tongue to the back of his mouth. He would resist these sadists for all he was worth, even if it wasn't very much.
"Fine." Shelling smiled.
He attached the clip to the soft, sensitive underside of Gil's tongue. Not one metal tooth missed its fleshy mark. Then he gave the clip a hard pinch, holding it for several seconds, letting the teeth dig further into his tongue. Gil screamed in pain and thrashed in their grip. They let him go and he slumped forwards, breathing heavily, gasping for air. Tears that had welled in his eyes now poured down his cheeks and his body gently shook with each, quiet sob.
"Let that be a lesson to you." Shelling sneered. "Never speak without permission."
Shelling stepped back and considered his prisoner for a moment.
"This is how it's going to be." Shelling spoke to him one would speak to a disobedient child. "You will only speak when given permission and when you do speak you will call us sir, and you will never look us in the eye, because you're garbage. Do you understand?"
Gil's mumbled response angered Shelling and he again grabbed Gil's hair and yanked his head back, causing Gil to cringe and intensifying his headache.
"I asked you a question!" He growled.
"Yes, sir." Was Gil's painfully slurred reply.
"You're going to suffer, Grissom. Slow and painfully. Just as my brother suffered."
He let go of Gil's hair and they exited the room, shutting the door behind them.
Gil rested his head back releasing some of the pressure from his hurting tongue. This was one injury that would not be relieved by unconsciousness, although he wished it would be. He would have to wait until Shelling decided it was time to remove the clip. If he ever did. He forced his mind to think of other things and his thoughts quickly turned to Sara. He began to sift through his memories of the last eighteen months.
Simple, everyday things were what he loved the most. He cherished his memories of the many times they had made love, but it was the little, everyday things that he no longer had to do alone that warmed his heart the most. Waking up with her nestled in his arms. Having someone to eat breakfast with on a regular basis, not just when they met at the diner. Having a tug of war over the morning paper, only to have her roll it up and bop him on the head with it as she giggled and he pretended to be annoyed. Sharing the events of the day while one washed the dishes and the other dried them and put them back in the cupboard. Going to bed after a long day, especially after a difficult case, and having her there to hold him. All of his troubles seemed to melt away when he nestled into her arms. She would kiss him gently on the forehead and run her fingers through his graying curls, whispering softly to him, telling him it be alright. He wished she could tell him that right now, but he could only sit in his misery and pray that it would soon be over.
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A/N: Could somebody please tell me when, why and where Grissom got his dog from??? Was it before or after Sara left??? And what is his real name??? Some people say Hank and others say Bruno. I'm so confused! LOL! I hope you liked this last chapter and don't hate me yet:) Please tell me what you think. You guys keep me going:) Peace out. -Esther
