This story will largely cover what is happening on Grissom's side of the story, without as much of the CSI side. Bits and pieces yes, but I am going to drag our favorite couple through all the angst first...I apologize in advance. This is going to get veeeery whumpy and dark...
"Kill her?" Grissom furrowed his brow as he glanced from the still girl to their captor. "Surely you aren't looking for such an anti-theatric ending like that. Killing ends the fun, am I right?"
"Oh no," the man sneered, crouching down to get on Grissom's level. "That's when the fun begins. Did you think this was about her suffering? Oh no. It's about yours."
He shoved himself to his feet and fumbled with the chains, lengthening the amount of chain connecting the CSI's wrists to the hook above, but he cautioned, " I would keep those arms up for a bit, if I were you, let them down gradually. It's gonna hurt like heck if you let them down too quickly. I will leave you two to get acquainted. I need one more party member to join this little circle, then the theatrics, as you so eloquently put it, Mr. Grissom, can begin."
"Don't you touch my CSIs," Gil growled at him.
"Oh I won't hurt them," the man chuckled. "That's going to be your job. I only need one. Sara, right? Your wife?"
"Why are you doing this?!" Grissom snarled at him, his normally calm demeanor bitter and turbulent. "Leave her alone!"
"Mr. Grissom, there are very specific things you hate. Abusive husbands, child predators, and drug dealers who, as you put it, deal death to kids. Well, Mr. Grissom, I am going to show you that those people and you are divided by a moral compass that even you are capable of shattering, under the right reason. You will become all of these..." With a grin that did not reach his snake like eyes, the man walked away, pausing at the door. "And don't get any ideas about escaping, Mr. Grissom. This building is rigged with electricity. If you so much as step outside of that stall door, you will be fried instantly. Have fun getting acquainted with your little pet. Might as well enjoy some pleasures while she still can. She won't live to enjoy them with anyone else. "
Revolted at the implication, Gil leaned his head back, trying to breathe normally. But the idea that his precious Sara was next on the list filled him with an incredible fury and fear. He thrashed his wrists, trying to loosen the shackles, but they were tightly fitted, and only succeeded in slicing the skin they enveloped, faint trickles of blood making their way down his arms, arms once muscular and strong now stinging and chilled with lack of circulation.
He had to trust his team to protect Sara. Surely once they realized he was gone then they would have some kind of plan for protection, watching each others back, not taking chances...he took a shuddering breath, uncommon tears burning behind his eyes. If that fiend hurt Sara, there was a side of Grissom that he knew would come out and he wasn't sure what would come of that action.
The best he could do was try to gather information about the location they were in and as much trace and details as he could. Right now, he had to check on Holly, who hadn't moved once during the entire rant of their captor.
Carefully testing his arms, he gradually lowered them at first, wincing at the pain as the blood rushed back into the restricted limbs. Finally he gave up and let them fall to his side, squeezing his eyes shut at the onslaught that threatened to blur his vision and make him pass out. Gradually the pain faded into a stinging reminder of the restriction, but he had the use of his tired arms again and he shoved himself to his knees, crawling to Holly's side.
The CSI nature kicked in and he studied her for a moment. She was breathing raggedly, her shoulders hitching with every breath. Upon closer inspection, blood flecked her fingers, and her hair was matted with something he could not decipher.
"Holly?" he spoke quietly. "Can you hear me?"
He laid a hand on her shoulder and turned her over carefully, studying her face. He was immediately struck by the blood that had dried on her face, once streaming from her nose, onto her chin, and the front of her shirt. There was bruising around her throat, and her jawline, and some grey fibers stuck to her shirt.
She still did not stir, and he curled his fingers around her wrist, checking the speed of her pulse. It was slow, but even, and he probed around, checking her eyes and gums. He deduced that she had been potentially been drugged and carefully maneuvered her into the recovery position.
As he sat there watching her sleep, all he could think of was their captor's hands on his Sara, and had his hands not already been otherwise chained and restricted, he would have punched the wall over and over and over.
Time passed slowly, only the rustle of the hay from the drafty barn made any noise in the stillness. As his brain registered all of the surrounding noises, it deleted them, until he had sorted through the wind around the corners of the barn, birds chirping, and creaking of the windvane high above him in the roof. The sounds of his own breathing and Holly's echoed in his ears, much louder than it should be, and his brain finally told him that there were sounds missing that would have given him hope.
No vehicles passing by.
No street sounds.
No markers for location.
His aching head throbbed, aching with the effort to seek some kind of assurance of their location, as well as the blow that had incapacitated him enough to allow his capture. It had been a dumb move, focusing so much on his clues that he had not paid any attention to his surroundings.
Didn't the perpetrator always return to the scene of the crime?
Holly stirred across from him, finally, and he shoved himself backward away from her, unsure of her mental state upon awakening. His gut clenched uncomfortably at his state of undress, and her past history, and he faintly considered their captor's phrasing and his face crumpled with disgust.
There are very specific things you hate...child predators...you will become all of these...
He took a deep steadying breath through his nose, trying to formulate a plan, as Holly's eyes opened, looking straight at him unseeingly, and he watched the minute changes in her face as she processed her position, situation, and the obvious pain her injuries were causing. His face flooded with compassion at the terror that twisted her face as she realized she was shackled, and she sat up with a cry of disbelief.
"Easy, easy, don't pull on them like that," he cautioned quickly, knowing by his own experience earlier that the shackles could only cause more pain. "They will cut your skin."
She froze at the sound of his voice, and looked up slowly, her face flitting through several more emotions as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing.
Grissom held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Don't panic, just take a breath. Keep your head. I will figure this out, I promise. Are you okay?"
She did not answer, her expression still fluttering between disbelief and horror, and then her eyes widened as she registered his state of half dress, and the realization that she wouldn't remember anything that had transpired. She backed away from him quickly, muttering to herself, "I did it again. I did it again. Stupid, so stupid, can't trust people, so stupid, stupid stupid."
Gil studied her reaction for a moment, and something dawned on him.
"Holly."
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she chanted, her face contorted in an expression of self loathing.
Gil breathed heavily through his nose. Someone had to take charge of the situation and it wasn't going to be Holly. He moved closer to her, watching her shrink into herself, turning her face away from him. He sat down again a few feet away.
"Holly, I am trying to get us out of this mess but you have to be honest with me. Did you know the man that was stalking you yesterday when you and I met?"
She rested her forehead against her knee, her hands clenching together for a moment then nodded.
"Why didn't you tell me that?" Grissom asked, a little more roughly than he intended to. "I could have done something about it then instead of waiting for him to make the first move."
She raised a meekly apologetic face to his, and shook her head. "I was afraid."
His face relaxed slightly at that, and he sighed. "I get that. I didn't mean to come across like I didn't consider that. But I think it might be best if you tell me everything. And don't leave anything out."
She shook her head, her eyes flitting to his bare chest and strong arms, and she scooted sideways, until she reached the stall wall, and leaned against it.
"He's - he's going to make you hurt me."
Grissom winced, knowing good and well that was the captor's intentions, but he was determined to outsmart the man somehow, without giving in to the criminal's fantasy.
If only Sara remained safe, he begged the universe. The very idea that he could inflict harm on anyone to save the woman he loved was gut wrenching, and nausea pulled at his throat.
"I'm not - going to - hurt you," he said softly, and fully meaning every single word.
She slowly turned to look at him, and shook her head. "No. Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I need to know, Holly. You sought me out for a reason. If I am to get us out of here, I have to know everything."
"There was a reason," she said softly, twisting her fingers together, her knuckles white.
He drew in a heavy breath again and pursed his lips. He was going to have to play bad cop.
"Well, right now, the reason looks very much like you were working for him, and you picked me out and led me into this situation with your puppy dog eyes and cries of abuse. Give me one reason to believe that you aren't in on this, because clamming up at a time like this sure screams accomplice to me."
She looked hurt, and he hated it, but his words still were of no effect. She shook her head.
"Believe what you will, Mr. Grissom, but I am not involved in this."
"Prove it."
His blue eyes narrowed at her, and she glanced at them, then away, intimidated by the intensity in his face. The face that had interrogated criminals, convicts, suspects, and family members, a face that had seen all kinds of gore and science and cases and clues.
She rubbed a hand across her face, distracted, and then immediately yelped and cupped her face in her hand.
"What's wrong," he asked calmly, trying to keep the concern out of his features.
"Nose," she muttered, looking down at the blood on her hands. "Think he broke it." she said this softly, more for her thoughts than his ears, but he took the information willingly.
"Try not to touch it. Rub your hands in the straw there, it will get some of the blood off."
She glanced at him, then did as he suggested, inspecting the pink smear left behind, satisfied that her skin was no longer trickling crimson into the cracks of her palms.
"You said I was safe before," Grissom nudged her with interrogation again. "What changed? What made you go along with a ruse to get me kidnapped?"
"I didn't," she muttered, glancing at him, and leaning against the wall. She frowned at the blood that trickled from her nose, down her chin again, and dripped onto the back of her hand. "You've got to believe I didn't."
"Can I look at that?" he asked pointing to her face, a worry furrow between his brows.
She nodded dismally. "Sure."
He scooted closer, raising shackled hands, palms up, and he paused. "May I?"
She nodded again, and winced as he palpated the skin around her nose, mindful of the bruising and blood. "S'not broken," he observed, hooking a finger under her chin and tilting her head back. "Keep your head back a bit and pinch the bridge like this. I know," he added when she whimpered at the pressure he put on her nose. "I know, it's going to hurt, but just for a bit, it will help stop the bleeding."
He looked around for something, anything, she could press against her nose, but only the only resource around them was straw. She had the most clothing between them, but he wasn't about to ask her for that. His brain felt slow, and addled, and he knew it was the obvious concussion he had obtained from the blow to his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut again trying to think of an option. An idea popped into his head and he reached into his pocket, pulling out the white lining of the jeans pocket and ripping it out. "Here. press this against it."
She raised an eyebrow at the resourcefulness, but took the scrap of white cloth wordlessly, and did as he instructed.
He pushed himself away a few feet, still painfully aware of his appearance, but her body language was already more relaxed. He rested both arms on his knees and studied the shackles, looking for a means of breaking them. She spoke so softly, that he almost missed her first words.
"-didn't know he was here in LA. When my dad went to prison, I got a job in Paradise and went through all the steps to become emancipated."
"So you are emancipated then."
"Yeah. I stayed in a hotel there for a while, then came here to LA."
"So that wasn't your first job then, at Excalibur?"
"No. Just waitressing in Paradise, then Excalibur was hiring here. Yesterday, I picked up my things and met him there."
"And he talked you into doing things with him sexually?"
She lowered her head, removing her hand from her nose and frowned at him, but he wagged a finger at her. "No, no keep holding."
Tilting her head back again, she swallowed hard, and nodded. "He didn't exactly talk me into it. He had a gun."
Grissom's eyes widened and he took a steadying breath. "He raped you then."
"Yeah," she replied faintly.
"Holly, this is very important. Did you know him?"
To his shock and consternation, she nodded again, a sob rippling through her thin neck, still vulnerably tilted back, the finger shaped bruises clearly visible along her throat.
"Holly," he tried once more. "Who is he? Tell me who that man is."
She lowered her head once more, studying the bloody scrap of cloth in her hand, then touching her nose and finding the blood had stopped. Her lips were quivering, and she shivered, whether from fear or a chill from loss of blood he wasn't sure.
"He's the man my dad sold me to."