Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to One Blood by Terence Jay. But I sure will use 'em  You can find the video for this song YouTube. I highly recommend it.

Warning: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of sexual abuse.

A/N: It is not my desire to rehash in this chapter, but to show the after effects.

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Chapter Sixteen

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They decided to spend a quiet evening relaxing and watching an old movie. Gil didn't care what he did; he complied without argument. So Sara suggested one of Gil's favorite comedies, hoping to encourage the good mood that Jim seemed to have started, and Jim agreed wholeheartedly. She put in the Charlie Chaplin silent film and slipped into the kitchen to make popcorn while the movie began. Gil had returned to the dining chair he had used before dinner, though no one had spoken about seating arrangements. Both Sara and Jim hoped he had done so out of preference, not out of obedience.

When Sara returned with popcorn she held out a bowl to him.

"Would you like some popcorn, Gil?"

He looked at the bowl, then up at her. Confusion flitted across his face and he silently implored her to give him the answer.

"Do you want popcorn?" She patiently asked again.

He continued to look confused then slowly shrugged a shoulder.

"I, d-d-don't kn-know." He said with conviction.

She didn't want to choose for him, but she knew that he had always enjoyed popcorn during movies in the past so she held the bowl out to him from where she sat on the end of the couch next to him. Still unable to decide he sat and stared at the bowl for a long time, then his nausea decided for him. He silently turned back to the movie and set himself to ignore any further attempts.

Although he never took his eyes off the screen she could see from where she was sitting that he was not watching the movie. His eyes were blank and he looked like he was staring into a distance. She noticed that he was rhythmically taping his knee with his hand and stopped after about a minute. Shortly afterward he timidly looked over to where Sara sat on the couch.

"S-S-Sara?" He spoke in a hesitant voice.

"Gil?" She smiled as she looked over at him, but the smile faded when she saw he was looking at her knees and not her face.

"C-C-Can I g-go t-to b-b-bed?" His cheeks burned with color.

"Of course you can, Gil." She was surprised by his apparent need for permission. "You don't have to ask for permission to do anything here, okay?"

He nodded and felt more embarrassed and angry with himself.

Just as she was getting up from the couch the phone rang and she plopped herself back down. She smiled at him and rolled her eyes in a silly fashion.

"Hello?" She said into the receiver.

"Hi, Sara?"

"Hey, Cath. How's it going?"

"Okay. Could be better. That's actually why I called, but first things first. How's Gil?"

"Um… he's okay."

"How 'bout you?" Catherine hadn't missed the hesitation in her friend's voice.

"I'm okay too."

"You want to talk about it?" On the other end of the line Catherine smiled sadly for her friends.

"Maybe later." Sara wanted to change the subject. "What can I do for you?"

"We got hit pretty hard tonight. I don't want to take you away from Gil, but I was wondering if there might be any way that you could come in for a few hours tonight?"

Sara could almost see Catherine cringing at having to ask the question, but they were three CSI's short and that was hard enough on a regular night. She knew Catherine wouldn't ask if they were not in bad need. She put her hand over the receiver to explain the situation to Gil and Jim.

"They were hit hard at the lab tonight." She noticed Gil was lost in his own world again. "And Cath is asking if I would work a few hours tonight."

"Well, I'm here tonight anyways. Gil and I'll be fine." Jim replied with a reassuring nod of his head and Sara turned back to the phone.

"Yeah, I'll be in. Gil's ready for bed so I need to change his bandages and get him settled. I'll be in in an hour or so, okay?"

"I owe you one, Sara, thank you."

After hanging up the phone she and Jim each took a place on either side of Gil and carefully lifted him to his feet. They helped him to the bathroom and guided him to the chair in the corner. Jim kept a hold of Gil's arm while Sara pulled down his sweat pants. After helping him to ease down onto the chair Jim exited the bathroom to give them some privacy. She helped him out his shirt, which caused him to cringe several times. Then gently as possible she began removing the old bandages.

After removing them from his chest, stomach and underarms she inspected the wounds closely. They still looked healthy and like they were properly healing. She filled the sink with warm, soapy water and gently washed each wound then patted each one dry with a clean towel. Gil kept his eye's closed the entire time. Each time she touched one of his lacerations the vivid and painful memory of how he got it flashed into his mind. After applying ointment to each wound she carefully dressed them with fresh bandages that had been given to her at the hospital.

He felt a sudden contraction in his stomach as the laxatives took effect on his dinner and he timidly looked up at Sara.

"I have t-to use th-the t-t-toilet."

"Okay." She simply replied and called Jim back in to help.

Jim quickly entered the bathroom and they made it to the toilet just in time. Although loose it was still painful and he clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut. Each stroke of pain he felt forced him to recall how it was originally initialized and he began to shudder as the memories flooded over him.

He jumped when Sara touched his shoulder and cringed away from her.

"It's okay, Gil." She assured him "Are you all done?" He nodded and grabbed blindly for the toilet paper.

His shaking hands and lack of coordination made more of a mess and he had to allow Sara to do the job. She asked him to bend over just a little to allow her easier access to wash him and as he leaned into Jim for support he squeezed his eyes shut. Embarrassment and anger flooded over him, but he choked the emotions down.

Fifty-two years old and I can't even wipe my own ass. He thought bitterly.

He was tired of feeling so exposed. He was tired of his friends observing him during his most vulnerable moments. Jim was careful not look. He knew he wouldn't want anyone to look at him if he were in Gil's position and wanted to show his friend the same courtesy. Sara made quick, but gentle, work of the task and they helped him to sit back down on the edge of the chair.

She gently nudged his legs apart and again he squeezed his eyes shut as his face turned red with a renewed sense of shame. She didn't miss his reaction and it made her feel horrible. It wasn't the first time she had nudge his legs apart. But the last time she did so, it was a more pleasant experience for the both of them.

She remembered him lying beneath her on their king size bed as she slowly slid down his body. His eyes never left hers until she took his full length in her mouth. His head fell back on the pillow and he closed his eyes as he savored every sensation that she created in him.

She wished things would go back to the way they were. She was grateful that she could hold onto the one constant in their lives before his kidnap and rape-her unwavering love for Gil.

Sara called Jim back into the bathroom and they helped him into clean pajamas. After helping him back into the bedroom and sitting him down on the bed she got his evening pills. She put them in his cupped hands and he dropped them in his lap while trying to get them into his mouth. She quickly picked them up and cupped his face with her hand.

"Tip your head back." She gently urged and dropped the pills into his mouth.

She lifted the glass of water to his lips and let him drink all that he wanted before setting the cup down on the nightstand. She helped him to lay down on his left side and pulled up the covers. She knelt beside the bed and ran her fingers though his hair. He shrunk away from her and she sighed sadly and wondered if he would ever feel comfortable under her touch again.

She never doubted that he would be safe with Jim, but she hated to leave him even if just for a few hours.

"I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

He nodded and she kissed him on his forehead. After leaving the room she left the door ajar so that he would not be in total darkness.

"He'll be alright, Sara." Jim said from where he leaned against the wall. He took her by her arms to get her full attention and looked her in the eye. "Hey, do you trust me, Sara?"

"You know it's not that, Jim." Her demeanor softened. "I just don't want to leave him, but they do need me at the lab." He nodded and smiled warmly.

"He'll be fine, Sara. Go to work."

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Gil quietly lay in bed and listened to their hushed conversation. Instead of reading their sincere love for him, his weakened state of mind rationalized that he had become a burden for Sara and Jim.

He fell into a depression as he thought how he couldn't feed himself anymore, they had to help him. They had to help him dress… tie his shoes… clean himself. He couldn't even walk on his own two feet anymore without falling on his face.

Jim could always walk away, but he was afraid that Sara would stay out of obligation. This wasn't the life that she deserved. She deserved so much more and he no longer had to offer her what she deserved.

He began to punch his thigh viciously as doubts flooded his mind and silent tears flooded his eyes. He angrily pounded his thigh with his fist until it was bruised and sore. When he sapped his little remaining energy and he no longer had the strength to punch himself he buried his face in his pillow and muffled the sad cries of pain emanating from his broken heart.

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In the far away fires where the hills forever burn,

At the feet of our heroes we try hard to learn.

But the lesson is lost there, in the smoke and the mud,

That we are one flesh, one breath, one life, one blood.

I stood by the river that ran red with shame,

I stood in the killing fields where death had no name

I stood with my brothers and awaited the flood

And we were one flesh, one breath, one life, one blood

Then I fell to the ground, tasted ashes with my tongue.

Thinking that only the dead are forever young.

There was peace in the twilight, and for a moment or more,

It was a world without danger, a world without war.

And I would take all of your suffering, if it would do any good.

Cause we are one flesh, one breath, one life, one blood.

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As Nick sat in the break room awaiting assignments he rubbed his tired eyes that burned from his past few sleepless days. Catnap's were not enough and his body loudly protested his lack of sleep. He looked down at the steam that spiraled off the top of his coffee and thought back to his trip to the prison a few days prior.

After analyzing the second tape Conrad had asked Nick to accompany him to the prison to interrogate O'Tool. For the sake of Gil's privacy Conrad had asked Nick only because he had already seen the videos and the secret was safe with him.

The gray, starkness of the prison walls couldn't compare to the cold look in Nick's eyes. Never one to hide his feelings, Nick clenched and unclenched his fists frequently as he and Conrad sat behind the stainless steel table waiting for the guards to bring in O'Tool.

"Easy, Stokes." Conrad said in a calm voice.

Nick looked over at his superior and gave a nod of understanding. The CSI wasn't nervous, he was anxious. He was unsure of how he would react when O'Tool walked through the door. After watching what he had done to Gil and forced Gil to do, he wanted to beat the piss out him. Then he remembered the things that Gil had taught him about revenge and wanted to control himself so as not to disappoint or disrespect his mentor. His friend. He closed his eyes as images of Gil flashed through his mind. He cringed when he thought of what Denalgio, Shelling and O'Tool had done to his body.

Conrad watched with a look of concern as Nick lifted his shaking hand to his ear as if to cover it from an offending noise. What Conrad didn't hear was Nick replaying the terrifying soundtrack of what O'Tool had done to Gil.

"Please, stop!" Gil begged as he writhed under Michael's foot between his legs.

"Say it!" Michael demanded again as he pressed his foot down a little further. "Who's bitch are you?"

"I'm your bitch!" He cried out in desperation through his clenched teeth.

"Prove it." His words were challenging and cold.

Nick jumped when Conrad put his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"You okay, Nick?" He asked gently. "Are you gonna be able to keep it together?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I just… I just can't get his screams out of my head."

"I'm sorry, Nick." Conrad truly felt bad and it showed on his face. "I never should have asked you two to analyze that tape."

"It's not that." Nick shook his head. "Rick and I are glad that you have been letting us help with Gil's case. It's just that…"

Before he could finish what he was going to say the door opened and O'Tool was ushered inside by two guards. He was pushed down onto the chair and one of the guards held him while the other locked his chains to the floor.

Michael had shaved his head on his second day of incarceration, after being ordered to by his cell mate who had become his new Denalgio. The top of his head bore a brand new tattoo as proof of ownership to anyone bold enough to publicly accost him and his left ass cheek bore a fresh brand mark burned into his flesh with a ball point pen on his first night. He squirmed uneasily because of the pain in his ass that was not caused by the ball point pen.

He nervously looked between the two men and felt the uncomfortable tension of their silence as they glared at him. He decided that he would not be pushed around by these cops and put on his best appearance of arrogance and toughness. He had to take it from his cell mate, but cops still had rules and they had probably fired that old fart that had thrown him against the wall. The thought made him smile and boosted his confidence.

"Let's get this party started, shall we?" He said with all the air of smugness about him.

"Shut up." Nick warned, not masking the threat that his voice held.

"Hey, you can't talk to me like that. I have my rights!"

Nick launched himself to his feet, causing the metal chair to tip over with a loud clang, and leaned menacingly over the table. Michael shrunk in his chair.

"You shut your Goddamn mouth!" He raised a finger and pointed it angrily at O'Tool. "In this room, you keep your mouth shut until one of us tells you to open it."

Conrad had wisely kept his seat and stayed silent. Nick's fury was justified and as long as he didn't take it out physically on O'Tool he would not intervene. He would let his young colleague vent his emotions on the appropriate person.

When Nick picked his chair up and sat back down Conrad opened the file folder in front of him and pulled out an array of still photos that had been taken from the video of him and Gil and set them out for the convict to see. Nick's jaw visibly clenched as he struggled to shut out the images that were reappearing in his memory.

Then Nick noticed O'Tool. The prisoners reaction surprised Nick. O'Tool looked at the photos and gulped audibly as he sat back in his chair. He looked down at his restrained hands and silence fell over them.

O'Tool glanced up at the pictures again and looked away in disgust. He had been so angry, but he remembered every sound, every plea for mercy from the old man and he could remember Rubin doing the same thing to him so many years ago.

"Where is Shelling?" Conrad demanded.

"I don't know." Michael quietly replied.

"Where does he hang out?"

Michael shrugged. "I was never allowed to go with them." He pointed timidly at the pictures. "That's when that happened. They went out somewhere and Rubin told me to stay. Like I was a dog or something."

"Save your sob story, pal. No one wants to hear it." Nick said.

"That's the only reason I did it." Michael began to cry as he felt the sudden need to explain himself. "I'm a victim too, you know. I-I was eighteen when I was put in here. My very first night Rubin made me his bitch. He did the same thing to me."

As Nick sat and listened, every fiber of his being wanted to launch itself across the table and strangle the life out of the younger man.

"I-I only did it because I was tired of being pushed around." O'Tool continued, his eyes pleading.

Nick shook his head as he let out a tense breath. He couldn't believe this piece of shit was trying to gain sympathy. He wanted to shout, "Shut the fuck up!" but instead he put his clasped hands on the table and looked O'Tool straight in the eyes.

"You lost your card to the human race when you brutalized Gil Grissom and made him beg to suck your dick, just so you would stop hurting him." While his voice was steady his words demonstrated his rage. The room fell silent again as the two investigators awaited the one answer they hoped for from someone who was a dead man walking.

"Last chance, O'Tool. Where is Shelling?"

"I don't know where you can find him." Michael quietly replied and Conrad called for the guards.

The seasoned investigators watched as the young man who had entered with an air of arrogance exited with his shame-filled eyes downcast.

As the two men drove through the cool evening Nick looked out the window, trying to keep his emotions under control until they got back to the lab and he could get away from Ecklie.

"You did good in there, Nick." Conrad's gentle tone startled Nick out of his concentration and he looked at the other man. "Gil would be proud of you for the way you controlled yourself in there."

Surprised by such high words of regard, tears formed in Nick's eyes. He quickly turned back to the window.

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Sara walked into the break room to see Nick sitting at the other end of the table, silently staring at his coffee. She smiled as she walked over to him but he did not notice her.

"Hi, Nick." She said gently, so as not to startle him, and put her hand on his arm.

He looked up at her and smiled as he stood and gave her a hug, which she thankfully returned. He needed someone to hold him-someone who cared.

When he finally released her she leaned back enough to cup his face with her hands and look into his freshly tear-stained eyes.

"How are you doing, Nick?" She smiled sadly at him.

"I'm okay." He lied, but she quirked a knowing eyebrow. "I haven't slept much. I… get to sleep, have a nightmare and… that's the end of it for the day."

She gently caressed his cheek like she would a troubled brother and pulled him back into a hug.

"It'll get better, Nicky. I promise."

Neither of them had seen Catherine and Warrick walk in and they were unaware of their presence until Warrick broke the silence.

"I'm next."

She let go of Nick and smiled at him. He nodded his head to let her know that he was okay and she turned to Warrick.

"How you doin', girl?" He asked in all seriousness as he embraced her.

"I'm okay." She whispered.

When Warrick let her go she gave Catherine an equal hug.

"Sorry that I had to call you in." Catherine apologized.

"It's okay. Jim's there, so I know Gil will be fine." She didn't sound convincing and she knew it.

They all sat down at the table after getting cups of coffee and Catherine started handing out assignments.

"Nick, DB at the Monte Carlo." She passed him a white slip of paper. "Warrick, suspected missing person at McCarran." She passed another slip of paper. "Sara, smash and grab. That's it." She finished as she handed Sara her assignment slip.

"What are you working?" Nick asked as he looked at the assignment slip in Catherine's hand.

"Um… rape victim at the Bellagio."

She looked at them sheepishly but they only nodded in grateful thanks for her consideration. As they stood to leave for their scenes Sara stopped them.

"How's Gil's case coming along?" She had been so focused on Gil's recovery the past few days that she hadn't even thought about his case. "Any leads on this guy, Shelling?"

Her three friends looked at each other, uneasily, and Catherine stepped forward and leaned back against the table.

"Well," She let out a long sigh. "Ecklie checked out this brother of his, John, at the state prison. It was a dead end with the brother, but it gave us a name and address for the one that kidnapped Gil."

"Wait a minute." Sara hadn't missed how Catherine tried to skirt around the truth. "What do you mean, a dead end with the brother?"

"He's… dead." Catherine looked between the two men and let out a long sigh. "The warden said that he was murdered by his cell mate around the time we found Gil."

"Oh my God." Sara's breath escaped her as she covered her mouth with a hand. "Does Jim know?"

"Yes." The three of them looked at the floor sheepishly.

"We didn't tell you because we didn't want to give you more to worry about." Warrick explained.

They hated that they had kept her in the dark, but Sara's features softened. She realized now, more than ever before, how blessed she was to have such good friends. She wished that they had told her but she was grateful for their desire to protect her and Gil.

"So does he have a name?"

"Reggie." Catherine continued, grateful that she was not angry. "Apparently he tried to call his brother a couple of days after we found Gil and was informed of John's death. He never showed to claim the body."

"He probably figured that the police would nab him if he did." Nick added.

"Ecklie went with the swat team to his house… but he was long gone." Sara saw their hesitation and implored them to continue. "In one of the rooms… the walls were plastered with newspaper clippings… and photos of Gil."

TBC

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A/N: Have any of you ever played the Game of Life ™??? I feel like I am in the middle of that, literally. I am the wheel and I keep spinning and spinning and spinning.

Sorry that it has taken so long to publish this chapter, but just when you think that you have the time to do what you want life squats and dumps on your plans. Okay, sorry that was gross.

But you know what they say about great works of art… they can't be rushed. So this is where someone says, "Let's get plastered." (ba dum bum) In the words of Jim Brass, "Thank you, I'm here all week."

What was I going to say… hmm… oh yeah! Review, review, review. Don't make me treat you like children and have to scold you for not fulfilling requirements. Because if it comes to that then I'll have to stop writing this story because it is way too mature for little kids to read. Would you like that? Huh? Would you? I didn't think so!

Wow, JellyBean was right, I do need to cut back on the caffeine.