A/N: I owe a HUGE thank you to JellyBeanChiChi! She was such an awesome help with this chapter. I couldn't have done it without you. If you have not read her stuff you should check it out. That chick has talent.

Sorry that it has taken so long for this one. Damn that wheel!

Warning: This chapter contains some mildly graphic flashbacks.

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Chapter Eighteen

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Everyone pitched in to help Gil. While Warrick and Nick carried him upstairs, Catherine stayed downstairs to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Sara and Jim followed the younger men up the stairs. Once they got him into the master bathroom Nick excused himself to go back down to the kitchen. He did not want to cause Gil any further distress.

Nick pulled on a pair of latex gloves and knelt on the floor beside Catherine. Without saying a word he took the paper towels and the spray bottle of bleach and began to clean up the mess. Catherine glanced at him sideways and saw the tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"I…I just feel like… shit," He said honestly when he noticed her looking and a few tears escaped as he finally looked up and met her gaze. "I should have known better."

"Hey, don't blame yourself. This is a big adjustment for all of us and it's going to take time," she smiled softly, hoping to put his mind at ease. "We're all just going to have to learn to be more careful when we're around Gil."

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and concentrated more on the task before him. Catherine had to keep her own emotions in check so she relied on something she learned from Jim. A little humor never hurts.

"You know, after what happened today, I think the next decomp that comes in should go to Greg."

Nick stopped cleaning and looked up to see Catherine trying to put on her best smile. He returned a weak smile and nodded his head several times in agreement and understanding.

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As she walked up the stairs, Sara debated the best way to clean Gil. She knew he was weak, but she also knew he would feel ashamed and exposed if Warrick and Jim helped in the shower. She couldn't let him fall in the shower either. She thought if she could get them to help him in and out of the shower, she could do the bathing alone.

"Jim, can you and Warrick get Gil into the shower? See if he can lean against the wall, if not we'll need to get the stool."

Gil cringed as he became aware of what was happening. His friends were taking his soiled, weak, broken body into the shower so his girlfriend could clean him up.

Friends, he thought bitterly. They're not my friends any more. They can't be. They're just showing me pity because of who I used to be.

The thought of "the man he used to be" versus "the man he is now" sickened him. He began to draw labored, ragged breaths, which made his friends feel uneasy.

"Grissom, you alright, man?" Warrick asked as he held onto one of Gil's arms.

"Come on, buddy," Jim said gently, as he held Gil's other arm. "We're going to take off your clothes and then try and see if you can lean against the wall in the shower."

Jim and Warrick removed Gil's pajamas and placed the soiled clothing in the corner behind Jim. Gil didn't need a visual reminder of what happened downstairs. Naked and vulnerable in front of his friend and a man who looked up to him as a father, Gil shook enough for Jim to stand upright and take hold of his arm and shoulder.

Warrick took notice of the shaking too, but was stoic upon seeing Gil's wounds. He had seen the video of the horrific things those men had done to Gil, and now his jaw clenched as his eyes wandered painfully over each, ugly stripe on his friends back.

Gil caught Warrick's stare and shook harder before tightly shutting his eyes and clenching his fists. He wished Warrick would just go away because he knew the young man was ashamed of his former mentor. He was wrong. Warrick wished more than anything that he could take those wounds and all the pain for Gil. Sara witnessed the whole situation. She wasn't sure if Gil would be steady or not, but she had to give him some privacy.

"Guys. I think he'll be fine if you turn him around so he can lean against the wall. Just stay close. I'll call you when I need you."

She slipped into the large, walk in shower and placed the stool in the corner. Jim and Warrick gently and gingerly turned him so he was facing the wall, and Gil instinctively used his arms to lean against it. The exercise took a lot of effort, but Gil couldn't stand the thought of Jim and Warrick showering with him. But Jim and Warrick were able to read Gil's physical cues and still stayed at his side.

Sara kindly gestured and smiled towards her friends, to let them know that she and Gil would be okay. The two men left to go to the adjacent bedroom, but kept the door open enough so they could hear her call them.

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Once inside the bedroom, Jim took a seat on the unmade bed, but Warrick paced the room like a caged animal.

"Come on, Rick." Jim whispered. He kept his voice low so the conversation would not carry into the bathroom, but also because his own emotions choked him. "Calm down."

"Calm down?!" Warrick said, his voice low but filled with tension and anger. "He doesn't deserve this, man. He doesn't fucking deserve this! Those piece-of-shit psychos… they treated him like a fucking animal… they abused him… DAMMIT!"

Jim stood up and grabbed Warrick by his shoulders. They looked at each other, face-to-face, and could read each others minds. The rage for revenge was fierce, but they knew that caring for Gil -their friend whom they loved and respected- was the most important task at hand.

Warrick closed his eyes while vivid images of Gil's wounds haunted him. Jim patted him on the back and guided him to the bed. They sat down on the bed with two feet of space between them and their hands in their laps as they stared straight ahead.

"You're doing a lot to help him now, Warrick." Jim said. "But all in good time. Got it?"

"Yeah." The younger man replied. He knew what Jim meant. He understood completely.

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After Jim and Warrick left, Sara removed her clothes and stood naked with Gil in the shower. She couldn't hear anything from the bedroom as she turned on the water and grabbed the retractable showerhead.

A gentle smile formed on her lips as she held the attachment in her hand. She was now very thankful they had chosen a retractable head even though she had taken some teasing from Gil when she had suggested purchasing it.

"You know, honey, some men wouldn't let their women get one of these things," Gil had said while he and Sara stood in the Home Depot two months ago.

"Really? Why is that, doctor?" Deep down inside, Sara reveled in being referred too as his "woman".

"What if you replace me for the massage setting?" Gil said, a teasing smile playfully crossing his lips.

Sara laughed out loud. "Who says a woman can't handle you both?" She had sauntered away to the checkout lane, showerhead in her hand and her loving boyfriend at her side.

The water temperature from the showerhead seemed fine and Sara broke from her daydream to care for Gil now. After cleaning the area with water, Sara gently washed the backside of his body. The closer she came to his buttocks the more he tensed.

"Gil, baby, I need you to relax so I can clean you up better."

He didn't seem to hear her, so she repeated her request. When he was still unresponsive, she prompted him to bend over a little. As she gently pressed down on his shoulders, he fearfully complied.

He could not get past the nasty taste in his mouth as he was roughly hauled to his feet. Gil panted for breath as O'Tool unbuckled his belt and laughed sadistically as he pulled down Gil's pants and boxers at the same time. He began to panic as Shelling grabbed him and pushed down on his shoulders, forcing him to bend over the tabletop.

As the water cascaded over him he kept his eyes tightly shut. Sara kept silent as she continued her task lovingly. Even if she had tried to break the silence he probably would not have heard her over the voices of his tormentor's that filled his head.

Swallow it.

You liked it, you faggot.

I own you.

You don't want to disobey me, do you?

Don't you fucking dare look me in the eye!

You faggot.

You will call us sir.

You're a whore, Gil.

You faggot.

Nothing but a dirty whore.

You faggot.

Whore.

Faggot.

Whore.

Faggot.

Whore.

Gil slowly and shakily brought his hands up and covered his ears. Sara saw the movement and became concerned as she gently took his wrist, to pull his hand down so he could hear her, and he yanked his arm out of her grasp.

"Please, honey, I need you to sit down so I can finish up." His hands were still on his ears but she was able to get him to sit down on the stool.

As she went to clean up his chest and face, Sara noticed that his breathing became more labored. He slowly shook his head and she could see the movement of his lips but could not hear what he was saying over the noise of the spraying water.

"I'm n-not a f-faggot. I'm n-not a whore."

She washed him the best that she could and when she kneeled down to wash his groin and between his legs, she could hear his tormented whispers.

"I'm n-not a f-faggot. I'm n-not a-"

"Gil?" Sara said as she put a hand on Gil's forearm. Gil jumped and quickly put his hands down at his sides. "It's okay," she soothed.

For the first time Gil willingly raised his eyes and met Sara's. She saw pure shame in his eyes as Gil held the gaze for a long moment.

"I'm n-not, S-S-Sara." His broken voice was unconvincing and despite the drops of water on his face Sara could see the tears in his eyes.

"I know, Gil." Sara hoped to reassure. "I know you're not."

Gil averted his eyes to the floor. Sara wondered if he knew her own tears mixed with the shower spray as she finished cleaning him.

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Sara put on a robe and called for Jim and Warrick to help Gil out of the shower. Sara had dried him off the best that she could and placed the towel over his lap to preserve his dignity. She stood behind Gil, with her hands on his shoulders, while Jim and Warrick entered the shower slowly. When they gently helped him off the stool, Sara wrapped the towel around his waist. With Gil's arms slung over their shoulders, Jim and Warrick led Gil into the bedroom.

"Don't worry, Sara," Jim said. "Wash up and get dressed. Warrick and I will dry him and dress him."

She stood still for a moment. He has to understand that they are helping him, she thought. Knowing that herself, she quickly retrieved some clean clothes and headed back to the bathroom.

Being the master of the quick shower, she came back to the bedroom with wet hair, but fully dressed five minutes later. Dressed in clean pajamas, Gil was back in bed. At Sara's request Jim and Warrick went downstairs and Jim returned with a glass of water and a small dish of applesauce. Gil had no interest in eating and made no move to take the spoon, but he did not resist when Sara quietly began to feed him herself.

When the dish was empty she set it down and took out his morning meds. She dropped the pills into his mouth and held the glass of water to his lips. When he was done she helped him to settle under the covers and knelt down on the floor beside the bed. He wished she would leave and when she began to gently caress his bruised face he wished she would not touch him. He was afraid that he would contaminate her and he didn't want her to be like him. She was much too good for that. She slowly moved her hand up his face and into his hair. This time he had not realized what she had done and her soothing movements had lulled him to sleep. When his breathing had become shallow and rhythmic she quietly left the room and went back downstairs.

When she entered the kitchen she saw her friends sitting at the table and noticed the smell of bleach and room deodorizer.

"Thanks for your help, guys," she said as she sat down next to Catherine.

"It's the least we could do." Catherine smiled warmly as she took Sara's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Sara noticed that Nick, who sat across from her, avoided eye contact and she when she spoke his name he reluctantly looked up at her with sad, teary eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Sara." His voice caught in his throat and he was reduced to a whisper. "I should have been more careful."

"You didn't know, Nick. Don't blame yourself," she said sincerely. Nick nodded his head thankfully and pushed past his tears.

"We gotta do something." Warrick spoke with conviction. The other's looked at him and waited for him to continue. "After O'Tool… went solo on Griss, he called him a faggot."

"What?" Catherine asked in disbelief.

"Yeah." Nick confirmed then tried to explain. "After he made Grissom beg to… to… suck him off he took a… a…" Nick just could not bring himself to continue as the lump in his throat choked him and he buried his face in his hands as fresh tears fell from his eyes. Jim, who was sitting next to Nick, put a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder and bit back his own tears.

"He took a big dildo," Warrick continued as he concentrated hard on the surface of the table. "He used it in Griss and hand pumped him at the same time." Warrick shook his head as his own, bitter tears began to fall. "He came hard. And when O'Tool was done… he said…'You liked it, you faggot'… I think he's got Griss convinced. He seemed to be trying to convince himself that he wasn't when we were helping him get dressed."

They were all in tears. They had wanted to ask the two men to stop but did not. This was something that their two friends needed to process and be allowed to talk about. None of them were sure of what to do other than to give Gil the constant reassurance that he needed, but they willingly discussed it.

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Sara had looked at the business card for some time. She had been reluctant to expose Gil any further but she knew he needed professional help. She picked up the phone and dialed the number on the card. A pleasant-sounding woman answered the phone by the second ring.

"Stacey Tolliver's office, this is Amanda speaking. How may I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Sara Sidle and I'm calling to make an appointment for Gil Grissom."

"Hold one moment, please."

As if I have a choice, Sara thought as she was cut right to a track of easy listening music. Amanda was true to her word and just a few seconds later Sara heard a masculine voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Miss Sidle, this is Stacey."

"Um… hello." She was surprised that he would make his own appointments and politely told him so. He laughed softly.

"I received a call from my good friend, Stephen Diller, two days ago. He said that you might be calling about Doctor Grissom. He said that Doctor Grissom's case is an especially special one and I would like to help." There was a short pause. Sara was surprised by his kind and down to Earth tone.

"Thank you, Doctor Tolliver."

"Call me Stacey."

"Thank you, Stacey." She corrected with a smile. "And you can call me Sara." He laughed.

"Alright, Sara, why don't you tell me what you know about Gil's case." She liked that he used first names and kept it from being too professional.

She began telling the psychiatrist what had happened to Gil. He listened patiently and when she broke down in tears numerous times he quietly waited for her to continue. She finished by telling him of Gil's reaction in the shower and there was a long silence on the phone. She finally heard him clear his throat.

"I… um… no greater love hath man." He quietly quoted. "Sara… I have heard many heart-breaking stories in my many years as a therapist, but some are… well, some are just harder than others."

"Can you help him?"

"I will certainly do my best, Sara. Has he… said anything or given any hints that would lead you to believe that he is suicidal?"

"No," She forced back her tears. "But… he's so broken. He blames himself for what they did and his shame and self-hatred is more than obvious."

"Alright, Sara. I would like to see Gil as soon as I can. I have a clear schedule tomorrow if he will see me."

"He has an appointment with his neurologist in the morning, but after that I could bring him in. As far as him wanting to be there… He's been very compliant about everything since we found him."

"I don't want to sound heartless, but we may have to use that to our advantage. Shall we meet at one o'clock?"

"That sounds fine. Thank you, Stacey."

"You're very welcome, Sara. Do you need directions?" She looked at the card and recognized the address.

"No. I can find it."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow."

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Gil fidgeted restlessly in his sleep. Their eyes haunted him. Their eyes held so much accusation.

He felt their presence as he pleasured O'Tool, but he tried to ignore them as he completed the dreaded task. As Gil slumped back against the wall, overtaken by exhaustion and the putrid liquid that had filled his mouth, his eyes were drawn up to meet theirs. His colleagues… his friends… his family, all stood before him.

"I thought you were a man." Catherine spat the words angrily at him.

"I looked up to you," Nick shook his head sadly. "You let me down."

"You used to be my friend." Jim glared at him viciously. "You're worthless. I don't even want to look at you anymore."

With great animosity in his eyes he spit on Gil. Then turned around and stood stock still with his back to his former friend. Catherine copied Jim's actions. She spit on Gil, catching him in the face like Jim had, and turned her back on him.

"You're a coward." Warrick accused bitterly, with burning eyes. "You are his bitch."

Nick and Warrick each spit in his face and turned their backs on him. He looked to Greg, who stood with tears in his eyes. The young man shook his head in disgust as his sadness turned to anger.

"I respected you." He spit in Gil's face before joining the others.

Sara was the only one who looked at him now. He wished he could tear his eyes away from hers, but the hurt and betrayal that he felt he inflicted one her forced him to train his eyes upon hers

"Sara…" He was barely able to whisper past the lump in his throat. Anger joined the cauldron of emotions in her chocolate orbs and she slapped him hard across the face.

"You filthy whore!" She choked bitterly past her tears. "I gave my heart to you… and you gave yourself to someone else!" Her shoulders slumped as her anger dissipated and she returned to silently expressing only hurt and betrayal. "I wish you had died in that room, Gil" She spit in his face and joined the others.

"I'm sorry!" He begged and pleaded. "Please… I didn't want to do it. I wanted to be strong."

It did not matter how much he begged and pleaded. It did not matter how many tears he shed. They stood firmly with their backs to him until they gradually faded away and he was left alone, in darkness.

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He woke with a startled panic to see Sara sitting on the side of the bed.

"Shh… it's okay." She gently soothed as she ran her fingers through his hair. He quickly shrank away from her and looked painfully terrified as her hand came down to caress his face. "You just had a bad dream, that's all."

What she didn't know was that it was the same bad dream that he'd had every night since they had found him. Every time he closed his eye's he could see theirs, filled with much hate for him.

"You hungry?" She knew what his answer would be and was not surprised when he shook his head. "You need to eat something." She called down the stairs and asked Warrick to help her. The younger man had bounded up the stairs but had been quiet when he entered the room.

"Hey, Griss. How you feeling?" Warrick was a little disappointed when he received no reply but he understood and did not push it.

"Would you help me get him downstairs?" They gently eased him up in the bed and as they made their way down the stairs she carried on casually. "Jim had to go to his place and take care of a few things so Warrick said he would stay here for a while. Everyone else just left not too long ago."

They took him into the kitchen and sat him at the table. Sara fixed him some soup and a glass of the orange juice that he had not gotten for breakfast. He looked more than just tired to her as she slowly fed him each spoonful. He was losing his battle again and more so, she was afraid that he was giving up. After he was done eating they helped him into the living room so he could watch TV and visit with them. She knew that he wanted to do neither but she was not about to let him isolate himself.

"I have to make a run to the pharmacy, Gil's out of bandages." Sara announced once Gil was settled. "Either of you want anything?"

Warrick had said, "No," and when she turned to Gil she was disturbed by what she saw. His eyes were lifeless, like those of a corpse.

"Gil?" She put her hand on his shoulder half expecting to startle him, but he only looked up at her with his lifeless eyes. "Do you want anything from the store?" He looked at her for a moment but stoically shook his head. "Okay, I'll be back in a bit."

Something gnawed at the pit of her stomach as she walked to her car, but she just could not put a finger on it so she climbed into her car and backed out of the driveway.

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If Warrick had not been so tired he would not have missed the look in Gil's eye's as he sat, staring into space. Warrick sat down on the couch with every intention of conversing with Gil and watching TV, but he quickly found that Gil was not in a talking mood and turned his attention to the television.

Gil could not hear the words spoken on the game show that Warrick watched. All he heard were the words of his tormentors and the words of his former friends. They floated in his head like his darks thought of death.

Warrick had all that he could do to keep his eyes open and he was finally overcome by the need for sleep and his head fell back on the couch as he slipped deep into slumber.

Gil covered his ears with his shaking hands, but it offered no relief as tears spilled down his cheeks. He panted for breath as his eyes opened and were drawn to the hand gun that was holstered and strapped to Warrick's belt. Warrick had been carrying the sidearm for fear of Shelling returning to finish the job, but in his drowsy state he had failed to completely secure the weapon.

It was like a sinister voice in the back of Gil's mind that told him to take the weapon. Gil could not stand the voices any more. He could not stand his friends looking at him with their justified hatred. He could not stand to live with himself.

He struggled, but pushed himself off the dining chair and carefully made his way over to the younger man's sleeping form. Warrick stirred a little when Gil removed his weapon from its holster, but did not wake. Carefully, and coming close to falling several times, Gil made his way out to the patio. Leaving Hank whining in the kitchen and scratching at the glass door.

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Sara just could not shake feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was seriously wrong. She made a quick U-turn in the road and sped back to the townhouse. The car had barely come to a stop in the driveway when she jumped out and ran up the front steps.

When she entered the living room and saw that Gil was not sitting the dining chair and Warrick was asleep on the couch her fear increased. She shook Warrick awake and he looked up at her with sleepy eyes.

"Where's Gil?" She asked frantically.

"Huh?" Her friend looked confused.

"Where is Gil?" This time she demanded his location.

Warrick looked at the chair that the older man had been occupying just moments ago then jumped up from the couch.

"Oh my God." Her fear filled voice drew his eyes up to hers then he followed them down to his belt, where his sidearm should have been.

He looked at the couch where he had been sitting but they both knew where it was. He bolted up the stairs as she ran down the hall to the guest room. She found no Gil and ran back out to the living room only to stop at the kitchen when she heard Hank whining. She followed the sound of his voice and when she found him she pushed past him and out onto the patio, leaving him shut in the house.

She took only a few steps before she was stopped cold in her tracks, frozen with fear. Gil sat in a chair in front of her, his eyes shut tight. His right hand shook as he pressed the barrel of Warrick's handgun to his right temple.

"Gil," Her voice was little more than a whisper as he opened his eyes. "Don't do this"

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A/N: I want to thank all of you who have not stopped reading though it got tough, and goodness knows it has gone far beyond tough. This has been a very sad story to write and when I became serious about its content I began to realize how sad it truly is.

This story has touched on many difficult subjects and one thing that I have learned, not just through writing and researching for this story but in life as well, is that one thing can cause a chain reaction resulting in the happening of many things.

In early season 1 of CSI Grissom stated that suicide is the final act of cowardice and, please don't take offense, I agree. We all face difficult struggles in life that are hard to get through, but we are given a choice. One thing that our poor Bug Man has yet to understand in this story is that just because he chose to give in to their awful demands does not mean that he made the wrong choice.

When we are given two choices in a terrible situation it does not mean that we are cowards or weak if we choose the easier of the two. Just because he chose to give in to their demands and obey their orders does not mean that he is weak or a coward. It simply means that he made a smart decision, in my mind anyways.

I guess my point is, that… don't give up. There is always going to be struggles in life, but they define who we are. They make us the person that we are going to be for the rest of our lives. (I heard that in movie, but believe every word of it.)