A/N: Thank you to all of my readers who stuck with me through that last chapter. I especially want to thank JellyBeanChiChi, Moonstarer, and Prowriter11. You guys have been so totally awesome and supportive and have given me some good advice and ideas. You guys are the best!

I know it was intense and disturbing. I did not intend for that part of the story to be entertaining and according to your reviews, I met my goal. This chapter contains some pretty violent torture, but I promise no rape.

A few of you have been asking for revenge. One of you even offered to pay me for it. (I do not accept personal checksJ)

My favorite line, I think, are the last two lines of the chapter. "Together they wailed. For her lover and his brother." (I just made a connection! I love this!) The crime in this story is based on a brothers revenge. If a brother can seek revenge, than a brother can seek justice. Just you wait!

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Chapter Eight

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It was the better part of an hour before any of them had calmed down enough to rationalize and speak. It had been sixty minutes of bitter tears and hard sobs. When all had seemed to calm it was Warrick who had the first outburst of anger. He slammed his tightly clenched fist down on the desk top, causing Catherine and Greg to flinch.

"I want those sons of bitches!" He growled through clenched teeth.

Catherine stepped over to him and soothingly rubbed her hand up and down his arm. She wasn't surprised by the tenseness that she felt in him and she pulled him into a strong hug. The stable man who had always presented himself as the strong one melted in her embrace as the dam burst and fresh tears flooded from his eyes.

Nick still sat in front of the computer with his back to the others and was grateful that they couldn't see his tears. He was startled when he felt arms wrap around his shoulders as someone hugged him from behind. He turned his head slightly when Sara rested the side of her tear stained face against the side of his. He closed his eyes and covered them with his hand as he accepted her silent invitation to grieve for his friend and mentor. He tried to hold back but found it impossible when her tear choked voice whispered in his ear.

"It's okay, Nicky. It's okay to cry for him."

Her voice broke, sending him over the edge and she hugged him tighter as his sobs wracked both of their bodies. When she gently rocked him back and forth he raised his other hand and grasped one of her arms as a fresh wave of emotion, one that he had kept bottled up since the beginning, crashed over him like an angry ocean wave.

"It's not fair!" He cried out. "He's one of the good guys!"

"I know." She whispered as she closed her eyes. "I know."

He later marveled at her inner strength. For her to set aside her own grief to help someone else express theirs showed him an inner strength that he only hoped to be able to show to someone else some day.

Jim sat down in a chair and slumped forward, propping his elbows on his knees. He looked down at the floor between his feet as a second wave of his own grief, triggered by that of the others, overtook him. His tears fell to the floor and he closed his eyes in hopes to quell them. Images of Gil flashed through his mind like a slide show. He began to shake as more and more of them passed. He opened his eyes and looked up to see that the others were beginning to calm down some and he angrily wiped the tears from his face. His determination was renewed and he made a silent vow. He would find Gil and the men- no, the animals that did this to him.

Jim calmed himself back down and reached into his pocket for his cell phone and quickly dialed a number from his directory. It rang three times before it was answered.

"Ecklie."

"Yeah, Conrad, it's Jim."

"What's going on?"

"I just received a computer disk by courier. It's a video… of Gil."

"A ransom?" Ecklie's voice peaked with anticipation.

"No." Was Jim's sad reply. "You need to get in here right away… and please don't tell anyone about this."

Ecklie knew it had to be serious for Jim to want it kept under wraps.

"Alright, I'll be there in about twenty minutes. I'll meet you in my office."

"Okay." Was Jim's one word reply.

Not wanting to talk anymore he closed his phone and dropped it into his pocket. He turned back to address the others.

"No one else needs to see or hear about what's on that disk."

They all nodded their infinite agreement.

"Are you going to show it to Ecklie?" Catherine asked.

Jim paused to think and compose his reply.

"He at least needs to know what's on that disk."

Warrick took the disk out of the open drive tray and replaced it in its case. He reluctantly handed it to Jim and when his hand fell back down to his side Catherine took it in her own and squeezed it reassuringly.

"So now what?" Nick asked.

He had finally calmed back down and he and Sara turned back to face the others. Jim thought for a moment before replying.

"Check the surveillance tapes. We need to find the courier who brought this in." He paused for a moment to think. "And someone should go talk to Judy and see what she remembers."

"After I get done with Ecklie somebody is going to have to go back over this video and see what they can find."

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Slowly, thoughts began to register. His arms and shoulders ached intensely, but he couldn't move them. He felt a fresh pain on the tender underside of his left arm. He felt the same pain on the under side of his right arm and on his inner thighs. Something was biting him and it fiercely hurt. His eyes slowly fluttered open as it happened again and again and again.

His eyes opened and he found himself looking down at the floor and a pair of black leather shoes. They look expensive. He thought. Legs clad in black, high end dress slacks. His eyes continued their slow ascent up the unknown body until he met the eyes of Shelling. He quickly averted his gaze back to the floor but it was too late, the mistake had already been made. Shelling smiled with sick satisfaction as he once again backhanded Gil hard across the already swollen and bruised right side of his face. Gil's head snapped around and he whimpered at the painful contact.

In his left hand Shelling held a bowl, which he held out for Gil to see its contents.

"Look what I have, Grissom."

Gil obediently looked into the bowl. It was filled with roach clips. More than he could count. He groaned at the thought of what Shelling intended to do with them and realized that what was biting his arms and legs were clips that Shelling had already attached to his flesh before he woke. He silently looked back down at the floor.

Other things began to register with him. When everything went black he was on the floor and now he was upright. He looked from one arm to the other and saw that he was shackled to the wall with his arms stretched to the point where felt like he might be torn in half. He then realized that his legs had been given the same treatment. He now stood totally naked and totally exposed. A hot blush creeped over his body and Shellings' amusement at his reaction was evident in his smile.

"I didn't feel like waiting for you to wake up, so, I started without you."

Gil didn't look up. Didn't respond. With the swipe of a hand Shelling hit three of the clips, ripping them off of his right arm where they had been embedded for some time. Gil muffled his cry of pain and tried to twist out of his restraints.

"You know, Grissom," He set the bowl down on the nearby table. "It didn't take long for the other prisoners to find out why my brother was there and it took an even shorter amount of time for him to become the property of his cell mate." The look in his eyes changed from amusement to animosity in a split second. "They don't like men that murder their daughters."

He slowly ran his hand over Gil's chest and down his stomach, resting it on his lower belly. Gil's stomach automatically clenched at the unwanted contact. He began to shake as fear took over. Memories from before he passed out flooded over him and he squeezed his eyes shut against them. His breathing became ragged and fast paced. He silently begged that his hand would go no lower and a renewed blush creeped over his body at the thought of Shelling grasping him. Just when Gil thought that Shelling was going to grab him he removed his hand and took a few steps back. He basked in the knowledge that he was in complete control.

"Are you thirsty, Gilbert?"

The change of attitude startled him and the endearment stung him like a hundred wasps and he cringed. Only Sara and his mother ever called him Gilbert and they were the only ones that he would respond to calling him that. He was thirsty. He didn't remember having a drink of water since leaving the lab and he had no idea how long ago that had been. He knew he was becoming dehydrated. His mouth felt like cotton and he noted the slight headache and nausea that had been with him since he had woken, but he had never had to seriously beg for anything in his life and just the thought of having to truly beg for a drink of water felt degrading and embarrassing.

"Yes, sir." He said quietly and hung his head as low as it would go.

Shelling hadn't missed Gil's cringe at the use of his appropriate name and picked up a bottle of water from the table.

"Would you like a drink of water, Gilbert?"

Gil didn't answer right away. He needed to keep himself calm. If he got too emotional Shelling would have him.

"Look at me, Gilbert." His voice remained gentle.

Gil forced himself to raise his eyes. He was beginning to hate himself for always obeying Shelling, but the thought of what might happen if he didn't obey scared him.

"Would you like a drink of water, Gilbert?" He repeated his question.

He saw only compassion in the other mans eyes as he unscrewed the cap on the bottle and lifted it for Gil to see. Gil knew it was false compassion, but he also knew that he was losing his battle. He thought that he could resist them without putting up a fight. He had been determined that he would not yield to them, that he would not give in to them, but his body cried out for water and he desperately wanted a drink. He now realized that he was going to have to put himself at the lowest point he'd ever been.

"Yes, sir." He whispered timidly.

"I can't hear you, Gilbert. Speak up." His voice held its tender tone.

"Yes, sir." This time he spoke at a reasonable volume and made sure he was clear.

"Ah, that's better." Shelling looked pleased. "Yes, sir, what?"

Gil's face burned with embarrassment.

"May I… please…" It was taking all the courage that he had left to ask this question.

Shelling watched him struggle with an amused smile.

"May I please… have some water?" Tears of humiliation stung his eyes.

Gil couldn't look at him he felt so ashamed for reducing himself to begging.

"Of course you may, Gilbert."

Shelling seemed happy to oblige him and as he held the bottle up to Gil's lips he did so, gently, as he would a small child. The cool water washed over his parched lips and tongue and slid easily down his throat, but after two sips he stopped drinking and pulled his head back. The water tasted normal but he decided not want to take the chance that there could be something in it.

"Thank you, sir."

For a split second anger flashed across Shelling's face and if Gil hadn't immediately looked down at the floor he would have caught it and been more aware of what Shelling's reaction would have been. Shelling clenched and unclenched his jaw.

"Are you sure you don't want more, Gilbert?" He was careful to maintain the kindness in his voice.

"No, thank you, sir."

He would not be defied like this. He was determined to be in complete control of the pitiful man before him and he would not be deterred. He grasped one of the clips under Gil's left arm and squeezed it hard. Gil writhed at the fresh pain, but couldn't escape no matter how hard he tried. As Shelling squeezed the clip he slowly pulled it down, increasing Gil's agony. Then, with a quick tug, he ripped the clip from Gil's arm and a small chunk of flesh with it. Gil threw his head back and his scream escaped his lips. Shelling's face was solemn but a slight twitch of his jaw as it clenched gave away his true feeling.

"Would you like more to drink, Gilbert?" His voice maintained its kindness.

Gil shifted his head back down and closed his eyes in an attempt to calm the pain.

"Answer me, Gilbert." He pushed.

"No, thank you, sir." Gil's voice sounded a little shaky in his own ear.

Shelling didn't speak, but the second response to his request increased his agitation. He reached down and grabbed one of the clips attached to the inside of Gil's right thigh. He repeated his action. Squeezing the clip and slowly pulling it away from his body. Again Gil writhed in pain, but this time Shelling didn't rip it off right away. He let it linger a little longer. The pain was intense and Gil tried to force his mind to think about something else.

Z…Y…X…W… He concentrated on repeating the alphabet backwards in his mind.

Shelling ripped off the clip and again Gil screamed at the agony that was in his leg this time. Shelling held up the water bottle for Gil to see.

"Would you like another drink of water, Gilbert?"

Gil struggled to calm his labored breathing and when he had he responded.

"No, thank you, sir."

Gil knew that he was being defiant but he was still determined not to give in to them.

V…U…T…S… Shelling grabbed two clips at the same time and proceeded with his ministrations of pain.

The increased agony decreased Gil's ability to think clearly.

R…P… No, not P…Q, I think.

Shelling ripped off the clips, spiraling Gil into agony.

After Shelling had ripped all forty clips from Gils arms and legs Gil still hadn't given in. Blood now oozed from his underarms and inner thighs. Slowly it trickling down his armpits and sides and down the insides of his legs. Shelling could barely contain his anger and knew that it was the cause of his shaking body. He roughly grabbed Gil's hair and yanked his head back up. Gil groaned at the new pain in his scalp.

"I have more clips, Gilbert." His voice had changed from kind to threatening as he began to lose his cool. "We can start all over from the beginning if you like."

Gil struggled to hold back his tears. He wanted to keep up his resistance, but he just couldn't take any more pain. The last of his reserve was slipping out of his grasp as he looked from Shelling… to the bowl of clips… to the bottle of water. As he slowly panted for air his heart sank and a tear fell from his eye.

"Please, sir." His voice was hoarse from screaming. "No more pain."

"What's that?" Shelling was slightly shocked by what he heard. "What did you say, Gilbert?"

Please, sir." Gil begged as more tears of defeat rolled down his face. "I can't take anymore pain."

Shelling's smile was one of victory and Gil knew it.

"Would you like some more water, Gilbert?" Shelling asked with a thick, arrogant tone.

"Yes…please."

"Yes, please, what?"

"May I please have some more water?"

Still maintaining his iron grip on Gil's hair he forced his head back and ordered him to open his mouth. Gil fully complied. Shelling push the mouth of the bottle past Gil's lips, knocking it painfully against his front teeth. Gil gulped the water down as Shelling didn't hold back from pouring it into Gil's mouth. As it came to the last few swallows Gil choked and Shelling let go of his hair and Gil leaned forward and was wracked by a violent coughing fit. Shelling just stepped back and watched. When the coughing finally subsided Gil let his head drop as fresh tears of shame fell from his eyes.

Shelling walked back over to the table and set down the empty bottle.

"Do you know what his cell mate did to my brother when he had failed to please him?" He asked after a long silence.

"No, sir." Gil answered reluctantly.

"He took him to a secluded area and beat him with a homemade whip."

Gil's body tensed and it became more of a struggle to breathe. He almost repeated his first mistake by looking up at Shelling but caught himself and looked back down at the floor. Shelling turned to look at him. Gil's fear was evident and it pleased him.

"Don't worry, Gilbert, I would use nothing but the best on the great Gilbert Grissom."

The change from hateful, to compassionate, then back to hateful again shocked Gil. Shelling reached back behind himself and pulled a six foot bullwhip off the table that he was now leaning against. He uncoiled it, letting the end drop to the floor. He quickly brought it up and snapped it down on the concrete. The loud, resounding crack made Gil's body involuntarily jerk.

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Conrad Ecklie set the waste basket back down on the floor and tried not to look at its contents which had previously occupied his stomach. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his mouth. He had started to watch the video, but didn't quite get past the first round with Denalgio before his stomach decided it was enough.

Jim stood at the office door, looking out into the hall. He had silently refused to watch the video again, but as it played every sound coming from the laptops small speaker reissued the images in his mind.

"Who else has seen this?" Conrad asked when he was finally able to speak.

"Just Gil's team."

There was a long pause as Conrad took in this new information and thought it over.

"How are they holding up?"

"As well as can be expected." Jim said as he finally turned to face the other man.

"And you?" Conrad looked him in the eye.

It took Jim a long moment to answer as the lump in his throat choked out his voice.

"I'm okay." Jim nodded.

Conrad didn't miss the unusual thickness in his voice or the mist in his eyes. He looked away, saving Jim from any embarrassment he might have felt.

"Bring me up to date on our leads." Conrad requested.

Jim took a few steps forward before replying.

"Right now our only suspect is Rubin Denalgio. His finger prints were lifted off of Gil's phone which we found at the scene in Moapa Valley."

"What's his connection to Gil?" Conrad looked at him again.

"Ten years ago he was convicted of murder when he killed a man in an illegal, underground street fight." Jim took a breath. "At the sentencing several people heard him yell that he was going to get even with Gil." Another pause. "He was let out of prison four months ago."

Conrad nodded his head as he remembered Catherine telling him all of this earlier that morning.

"When Greg saw the picture of Denalgio," Jim continued. "He almost lost it."

"He recognized him?" Conrad looked hopeful.

"Not his face, he said they were all wearing ski masks." Even Jim felt a little more hopeful. "He recognized Denalgio's eyes. I mean the poor kid almost hyperventilated when he saw the picture."

"What about the get away vehicle?" Conrad asked after a beat.

"Standard, black Chevy van. Greg said there were no plates."

Conrad nodded as he mulled over the information.

"Right now Warrick and Nick are going over the surveillance tapes to find our courier and Catherine and Sara are interviewing Judy because she's the one that talked to the courier. Then they're going to analyze that disk."

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They all met in the conference room an hour later as they had decided.

"Alright, what did you guys get?" Catherine asked Warrick and Nick.

They both wore hopeful looks on their faces.

"We found the courier on the surveillance tapes." Nick said as he slid a picture across the table for them to see.

"And he's one of the three guys in the video." Warrick continued as he slid another picture across the table top.

The others looked up at them in surprise before turning back to study the pictures.

"That's the guy from Judy's description." Sara confirmed.

"Something doesn't make sense." Catherine looked confused.

"What?" Sara returned to searching the pictures hoping to see what Catherine saw.

"These guys have been pretty careful so far."

"Yeah?" Greg encouraged.

"They obviously don't want to be caught, so why would they video tape themselves assaulting Grissom like that… and not at least wear masks?"

They all sat in thoughtful silence.

"What if they didn't know they were being recorded?" Sara asked.

"That kid on the surveillance tape looked pretty cocky." Warrick added.

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "He waved at the camera before he left."

"He was taunting us." Catherine realized and it dawned on the others as well.

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Crack!

Gil's body arched involuntarily as the hard strip of leather connected with the tender flesh on his back and opened a laceration across the width of his body. He muffled his groan of pain through his clenched teeth as fresh blood began to ooze from the wound.

Shelling sat in front of him on the other side of the room. On the table next to him sat a stereo, the notes of Vivaldi sounding through the speakers.

Crack!

Again Gil arched in reaction to the pain. His groans were becoming more like cries with each strike of the whip. This time the whip wrapped around his right side, bringing the laceration around to that side of his chest.

Gil slumped forward as far as his chains would allow and panted for air. He had to maintain some control or he was going to lose it. The pain was going to drive him insane if he didn't get his mind off of it.

Carterocephalus Palaemon. He thought to himself. The arctic skipper.

A picture of the brown and orange butterfly popped into his head with the announcement of its name.

Crack!

The whip wrapped around to his stomach causing him to arch and twist at the same time.

Erynnis Persius. The Persius Dusky-Wing. The brown and grey butterfly appeared with its furry body.

Crack!

It wrapped around his chest again, opening a third laceration and he lost his train of thought. The butterflies had left him to suffer. He would just have to concentrate on something else.

Crack!

He screamed out at the pain of the contact.

Scaphoid. Lunate. Triquetrum. He started to label the bones of the human hand.

Crack!

Those left too. He couldn't gather his thoughts through the haze of pain. He slumped forward only to be thrown into another arch.

Crack!

They were not pleasant thoughts. They were neutral. He needed pleasant thoughts. He thought of Sara. He closed his eyes and imagined her standing before him.

Crack!

His scream was louder and longer lasting this time. He heard Denalgio laugh from where he stood behind him. He thought of taking Sara in his arms. Pressing soft kisses along her neck. She would run her fingers through his hair, messaging his scalp like only she knew how.

Denalgio paused to take a drink of water and admire the work he'd done on Gil's back so far. He walked around Gil, ducking under the chain that stretched his left arm, and came to stand in front of him. He smiled sadistically as he roughly ran the butt of the bull whip handle over each of the five to seven inch lacerations, the two on his chest and the one on his stomach.

Gil's fists clenched again, so tight that it caused his arms to start shaking. He clenched his teeth and his breaths came out as grunts as he tried to fight the object that dug painfully into his wounds. Denalgio finished torturing all three lacerations and his smile turned to a cold sneer as he dropped the whip back down to his side.

Gil's body slumped again and his head dropped down. His breathing was heavy and labored. He barely had any strength left in his legs and his entire weight was supported by his arms. The tension it caused in his chest made it difficult for him to get air. Denalgio put the butt of the whip handle under Gil's chin and lifted his head. Gil cringed at the pressure and kept his eyes downcast. Denalgio laughed at the pitiful sight before him. Gil's eyes were bloodshot and dark. His once bright baby blues were now dull and glazed and his skin was a sickly pallor.

As Denalgio turned to look over at Shelling, something in the doorway caught his attention and he let Gil's head drop.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He demanded as he stormed over to the doorway.

Bonzo stood in the doorway holding a portable video camera. He'd had it aimed at Gil, recording his suffering. Shelling joined Denalgio at the door and snatched the camera out of Bonzo's hands.

"You stupid little shit!" Shelling degraded him. "We don't leave behind incriminating evidence. What if the cops got their hands on this?"

Denalgio back handed the younger man, knocking him out of the doorway and onto the seat of his pants.

The moment of being stunned passed quickly and the young red head jumped back onto his feet.

"Fuck you!" He yelled at Denalgio who wasn't phased in the least. "I don't need this shit! I'm outta here!"

He stormed off down the hall and disappeared into the makeshift office only to reemerge seconds later with his coat, but not before swiping something off the desk that he was not supposed to have. Though perhaps it was meant for him to carry it. They watched him storm out of the building and seconds later heard screeching tires as he peeled out of the parking lot.

Denalgio became enraged and grabbed the video camera out of Shellings hand and threw it against the wall, breaking it into dozens of pieces. He stormed back over to stand behind Gil. He drew back his arm and released a vicious torrent of whippings across Gil's back. Gil's body, given its limited range of motion, twisted in agony. He could not contain himself any longer and each strike of the whip intensified his screams of pain. The shackles cut his wrists and ankles and the excessive thrashing increased the fracture in his left knee. Warm, sticky blood began to dribble down his legs and then he was granted mercy. Just as darkness overcame him, Shelling said stop.

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A/N: That was a little intense. Don't make me say itJ I shouldn't have to by nowJ