All he felt when he awoke was a dull pain in the back of his head.

All he remembered was walking out of the site of their last crime scene, then darkness. Everything else was a complete blur.

He tried to raise his hand to his head, but ended up hitting it hard on something hanging above him. Waving his hand a few times to sooth the pain, it wasn't until then that he noticed hid hands were bound tightly together, as well as his legs. Everything was pitch dark; all he could tell, was he seemed to be inside some kind of wooden box, barely big enough for him to fit.

Moving his hands as far as he could along the floor, they bumped into something small and metal. Lifting it to his face, he smiled slightly as he realized what it was: a flashlight! Flipping it on immediately, he was devastated at his newly recognized surroundings.

"No, no! Please God, no!"

Dropping the flashlight in fear, he pressed both hands firmly against the lid of his 'jail' and pushed with all his might, but nothing budged.

Fear completely consumed him as he yelled as loud as he could.

"Help me! Can anybody hear me? Please help!"

He waited for a few seconds, but nothing happened. The deathly quiet surrounding him told him what his subconscious had been dreading. Too frightened now to think straight, he continued to yell to deaf ears.

"Help! Please, get me out of here!"

XxX

Grissom sat quietly in his office, working on paper work from a case he had finished the night before. He had arrived an hour early for shift to finish the work, and when he now looked at the clock, he realized shift had started over 45 minutes ago.

Listening carefully, he was slightly surprised to find the halls completely quiet. Where was the loud punk rock music that could be heard pounding through the halls from the DNA lab? Standing up, Grissom moved to go out into the hall, but not before his phone rang.

He looked at the cause of the new noise for a second before answering.

"Grissom."

A pause on the other end, then:

"It's very quiet around there, isn't it Mr. Grissom? Have you finally realized why? I have your little lab rat, and if you want him back, listen carefully."

CHAPTER 2

The night before:

Business in Las Vegas was always booming, always busy and full of life. But not at a lawyer's office just off the strip. The whole parking lot had been roped off, and all bystanders rushed off the premises as a black Tahoe pulled up.

Stepping out of the passenger seat of the black vehicle, Catherine Willows looked at the scene before her. The ex-dancer had seen many different things in her career as a CSI, but the things she had seen in the past week had her slightly terrified inside.

The door next to her slammed shut, jerking Catherine out of her thoughts and to the young man standing next to her. Greg Sanders was still fairly new at his position as a CSI 1, having only been on a handful of cases so far. He had been assigned under Catherine and Grissom for this case a week before, but with each passing night, it just seemed to get worse and worse.

"Sorry," Greg apologized, "Didn't mean ta scare ya."

"Don't worry 'bout it," Catherine assured him, "Just lost in my thoughts for a sec."

As one last door shut behind them, Grissom stepped around from the driver's side and eyed the two with an amused little smirk. "Well, if you two are finished, we should get this scene processed."

The two nodded and grabbed their field kits before following their boss across the parking lot and under the yellow police tape.

XxX

Jim Brass' gaze was unfocused as he looked at their latest victim. "Fourth one this week," he mumbled to himself.

Feeling a familiar presence appear to his right, Jim cleared his throat and spoke louder. "Debbie Thompson. Twenty-seven years old; worked for PD in evidence."

Grissom knelt next to the woman. The young blonde had been carefully laid out to her full height with her hands straight at her sides. A leather wallet lay open on her chest. Snapping a few pictures, Grissom picked it up.

"ID left on the victim in plain view?" He stated more than asked.

Brass nodded. "Just like the other three."

Placing the wallet in an evidence bag, Grissom set it aside and turned back, lifting the woman's right hand. "Fingers rubbed all the way to the bone." He then turned her on her side and looked at the back of her head. "Penetration to the skull by a blunt object, massive blood loss."

Brass sighed heavily. "Our killer strikes again."

"Grissom!" Catherine yelled from her and Greg's position a little ways up the lot. "You'd better come here."

Grissom slowly stood, grabbing his camera and walked over to his two team members in mild confusion. "What have you got?"

"Um," Greg stuttered slightly, "I think we've got mail."

Grissom looked at Greg for a minute, before following the young man's hand to the spot he was pointing at.

Lying on the ground was a white envelope, but what caught the investigators' attention was what was written on it:

LV

CSI Nightshift

Grissom's gaze went from slight confusion, to amusement as he snapped a few photos before carefully picking up the envelope. Opening it and reading the letter inside, the experienced investigator's eyes grew slightly larger, but he didn't say anything.

Catherine, Greg and Brass couldn't take the suspense any longer and read over Grissom's shoulder. Their breathe soon caught in their own throats.

Four down, only one to go. You're next.

XxX

Grissom slowly lowered the phone back onto the receiver and stood stone still, face pale as a ghost.

"It's very quiet around there, isn't it Mr. Grissom? Have you finally realized why? I have your little lab rat, and if you want him back, listen carefully. Greggy won't last very long without my help , and he won't get it until you agree to do everything I tell you."

Grissom nodded, until he realized the kidnaper couldn't see him. "I agree. What have you done with Greg?"

"Go to the old factory warehouse on Sunrise Street. On the corner next to the light pole will be a package. I assure you it will be worth your while."

Then the line went dead.

Grissom was just about to leave, when his door burst open.

"Grissom!" Catherine ran into the room, voice strained and tears running down her face. "Grissom, something has happened to Greg!" She held up her hands to reveal a CSI vest with the name 'Sanders' stitched onto the right side.

Grissom nodded and led Catherine out the door. "I know. Tell me everything that happened on the way. We need to go, now."

Catherine was completely confused, but let Grissom push her out the door and down the hall.

XxX

Greg cried quietly to himself, as he lay unmoving in his tight prison. Guessing he had been awake for at least half an hour, he gathered his thoughts slightly and tried to look around. As soon as he laid his cheek against the floor, he felt something very sticky cling to his skin.

Jerking his head back up and wiping his hand across his cheek, he turned on the flashlight and set it against his chest to shine against his hand. He cried out slightly when he saw it covered in crimson red blood.

Lifting his head as far as he could, he awkwardly placed the palm of his clean hand on the back of his head and felt a large gash that was bleeding badly.

"Oh man! I don't need this right now!" Thinking quickly, he took the sleeve of his long black shirt and ripped it off at the shoulder. Folding it quickly, he placed it against the wound and laid down on it, applying as much pressure as he could.

He laid in the dead silence for what felt like hours, but just as he was drifting off into hazy unconsciousness, something jerked him awake.

KCHHHGreg!KCHHHGreg, can you hear me?KCHHH

CHAPTER 3

"Tyler Mitchell, first victim. 32, Caucasian. Worked for the LVPD." Grissom placed a photo on the table of a brown haired male; lying straight on the ground with his hands at his sides and a wallet on his chest.

"Katie Peters," Catherine began in the same matter with a picture of a red head, "40, Hispanic. Part of Ballistics in the Day Shift."

Warrick sighed as he took his turn. "Mike Stevens. 64, African American. Head of the SWAT team until his retirement."

"And Debbie Thompson," Sara concluded. "27, Caucasian. LVPD Evidence Department."

The group looked over the four photos lying on the table. The silence in the room was almost unnerving, and no one seemed to want to break it first. Finally, Greg became too anxious to sit quietly any longer.

"Well," he started awkwardly, "I'm guessing it's safe to say that this is the same killer? All killed by a blunt object to the head, causing major blood loss. Fingers rubbed down to the bone. And the position they were all found in."

Grissom nodded. "No real connections between any of them except for their jobs in the police force."

"You think this is a random hit? Just taking out cops?" Nick asked, the fear barely visible in his Texan drawl.

Grissom shook his head. "No, they want us to know who they are; hence the ID and wallet left in plain view. There must be a common link between the four."

Sara examined the pictures closely. "All of them have filed down fingers. It can't be to stop identification. You think they were locked up somewhere, and tried to scratch their way out?"

Catherine shrugged. "It's happened before, so it's not impossible. The problem is, where were they trying to escape from?"

"We're getting nowhere with this," Warrick yelled out, throwing his hands up in frustration, "We have all six of us on the case and we still haven't caught a lead. We know how each of them were killed and the wounds they received, but we don't even know if they were hit in the back of the head before or after filing their fingers away!"

Grissom looked up at the clock. "All right, shift ended an hour ago. Everyone go home and get some sleep. Come back with fresh eyes and minds tonight." Everyone muttered their approval and filed out of the room. Grissom waited until he and Greg were the only two left before he spoke. "Greg. I need to speak to you."

The young, spiky-haired CSI turned back to his boss in slight confusion, then walked fully back into the room. "What's up boss?"

Grissom smiled slightly at the perkiness of his young friend, but he knew the news he was about to give would shatter Greg's mood. "I've been having a very bad feeling about this case from the start, Greg, and it's only gotten worse. So, I want you to stay in the lab until this case is closed. No field work until this is solved."

The smile had immediately dropped from Greg's face, being replaced by a look of anger and shock. "You can't be serious Grissom. I've been working this case from the field since the beginning, way before Nick, Sara and Warrick were brought in. You can't pull me off just because of a feeling."

Grissom shook his head. "I'm sorry Greg. You're still new at this. And as long as this guy is attacking PD officials, I want to know where you are at all times."

Greg listened in disbelief, slowly becoming hysterical. "Then why not pull Catherine and the others off? They are in as much danger as I am Grissom, and that includes you too!"

"My decision is final Greg. As of right now, you are not allowed out of the lab with any info pertaining to this case."

Greg shook his head in disbelief before quietly making his way out the door. Grissom thought he had made the right choice and gotten through to Greg; until a few hours later when Greg got the call from Catherine.

XxX

The factory district was completely empty, save for the black Tahoe speeding toward the main building. Slamming the brakes, the driver ran out of the car, soon followed by the passenger.

"It's supposed to be next to the light post," Grissom said as he ran, Catherine close behind. The only post near the building was sitting out in front of the main entrance.

Catherine trained her eyes on the fixture and saw the small outline. "There it is!"

They both dropped to their knees next to the small box and, using a flashlight, saw what was written on the top:

I see you came. Greg would be so happy.

Grissom quickly dawned a pair of gloves and lifted the box, then turned back toward the car. Catherine watched him for a minute before yelling back. "What are you doing! We need to see if anything in there can help us!"

Grissom didn't stop as his voice drifted back to her. "I know. We are getting the whole team on this. They deserve to know."

Catherine was crying now, but she knew he was right. The more people on the case, the faster they could think up a way to find Greg. Standing quickly, she ran to catch up with Grissom's retreating form.

XxX

Running through the front doors, Nick Stokes looked at his watch in worry. "Oh man, Gris is gonna kill me!" Rounding the corner, he came to a screeching halt in front of the break room. "I'm really sorry I'm late! There was a huge traffic jam and-"

"Save it cowboy, Grissom isn't here."

Nick had dropped his hands to his knees and was trying to catch his breath, but he snapped his head up to see only two of his teammates occupying the room. Sara Sidle was smirking slightly from her spot on the couch, a cup of coffee in one hand and a magazine in her lap. Warrick Brown was leaning against the counter across the room, drinking his own coffee.

Nick was fully confused now. He looked in every direction, making sure that his supervisor wasn't hiding in the shadows, ready to knock down on him for being late. "Where's he at? And Catherine and Greg too?"

Warrick shrugged. "Gris and Cath haven't been around for awhile. And judging by this sludge Day Shift calls coffee, Greg hasn't been here yet either."

Sara looked at her watch. "Shift started over an hour ago. Where could they be?"

Nick shrugged, and then noticed the evil little glare coming from Warrick's direction. "What?" He asked slowly, but with a smile creeping onto his face.

Warrick returned the smile. "There isn't a traffic jam anywhere near here. Did you just forget to set your alarm, or, did someone get lucky this morning?"

Sara looked up from her magazine and walked the Texan in interest. Nick glared at his friend as he leaned against the door. "For your information, I did set my alarm this morning, I just kinda kept pushing the snooze for another hour."

"Right," Warrick said slowly, but was cut off as loud footsteps could be heard running toward them.

Nick barely got out of the way before Grissom and Catherine shot into the room. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where's the fire?"

Both of the senior officers ignored Nick's comment and went straight to the table. "Everyone get over here, now." Grissom left no room for objection as the younger three walked quietly up to the table.

Grissom had put a small box on the table so they could read what was written on top.

I see you came. Greg would be so happy.

"What's going on?" Sara asked, starting to get worried, "Where's Greg?"

Grissom kept his gaze locked on the box. No one could read his expression as he spoke clearly. "Greg has been kidnapped. We are starting to believe it was our serial killer."

Nick and Warrick's eyes grew wide as Sara covered her mouth to muffle a gasp. Grissom took a knife from the counter and carefully broke the tape around the box. Inside were a walkie-talkie and an envelope. Setting the talkie to the side for the moment, he turned over the envelope and noticed it had been sealed.

"Maybe there's some DNA on it from licking the seal," Catherine said hopefully.

Warrick shook his head. "Doubt it. This plan looks too well planned out to pull some rookie mistake like that."

Grissom didn't answer as he took the knife again and cut down the side to preserve the seal. Out fell a letter and a picture. The letter was very short.

Say hello to your friend.

Lifting up the picture, everyone gasped. There was Greg, lying in an open coffin. Wire ties tied his hand and legs together and slight signs of blood could be seen underneath his head.

"Oh my God no," Nick whispered, "Please no."

"He can't be dead, he just can't." Sara was mumbling to herself over and over again.

Catherine looked at Grissom with pure rage in her tear-streaked eyes. "He said he wouldn't kill Greg if we did as he said! What do we do now!"

Grissom seemed too lost in his thoughts to hear her. His gaze was shifting between the picture and the letter. Then, one look at the walkie-talkie and it suddenly snapped. "It has two meanings."

Warrick looked at his boss in complete confusion, and put to words what everyone else was thinking. "What?"

Grissom emphasized. "The letter means two things. 'Say hello to your friend' in the picture, and in the literal way!"

Grissom grabbed the talkie and yelled clearly into it. "Greg. Can you hear me? Greg!"

For several long moments everything was quiet, except for the static of the walkie-talkie. Then-

"KCHHHGrissom?..KCHHH"

CHAPTER 4

Looking frantically for the source of the sound, Greg finally felt his feet kick something small. After struggling for several minutes, he finally kicked it into arms' reach. He cried out slightly when he found it was a walkie-talkie. Wetting his lips a little, he pressed the button and answered the voice he knew so well.

"Grissom?"

Even from his own ears, Greg could tell how weak and raspy his voice was from the thin oxygen he was getting.

"GregKCHHH Are you KCH..right?" The answer came through and Greg couldn't be any happier.

Greg's head was swimming and the bad reception wasn't helping his thoughts. "My head hurts. And my wrists and legs are tied with something."

"Don't worry KHCC we'll find. KCHHH soon. Can you see a.KCH.. thing?"

Greg laughed quietly, but the pain in his head just strengthened. "I can't even see the talkie in front of me. I'm in a box, and I think it's been buried."

Grissom was silent for a minute, but his next words were meant to be quiet and soothing to the injured young CSI. "Greg, you KCHH been buried. You need to KCHH calm and we will do everything KCHH to find you. You hear me?"

Greg nodded as he answered. "Yes Sir. But I don't know how much longer it will last."

Grissom's voice became slightly panicked. "Greg, no KCHH..ing out on us. We're all here. Greg? Greg!"

The young CSI never heard the last part as the darkness consumed him, walkie-talkie falling quietly to his chest.

XxX

"Greg? Greg!" After a moment of silence, Grissom knew Greg had passed out.

"We've got to find him!" Nick yelled, "He didn't do anything to deserve being in there!

Grissom looked at everyone's horror struck faces until he came to the worst of them: Catherine.

"What happened at the crime scene?"

Catherine wiped her eyes with her blouse sleeve before answering shakily. "We-we were called out to an old, run down house on the other side of town; said there was a DB with the same layout as our serial killer

XxX

Catherine pulled up to the address with Greg in the passenger seat. She laughed quietly when she heard her companion mumbling under his breath about never being able to drive and getting a bonus for doing this three and a half hours before shift even started. The blonde CSI shook her head as she got out of the car, Greg following suit, grabbing the field kits from the back.

"This doesn't feel right," Greg suddenly said, "All the other vics were found in a parking lot, not in a building."

Catherine nodded. "I know what you mean. Let's get in there and see what we have. It may be a whole new case."

"One look around the house and we knew the call was a fake."

Stepping into the house, both of the CSI's knew something was wrong.

"Nothing in this place has been touched in years," Greg said.

Catherine's stomach sank as she fully agreed. "Not even the dust has been disturbed. The call must have been faked."

" I sent Greg outside to check out there, while I looked around."

"I'll check around here, you go around back and see if that may have been a point of entry."

"Can do," Greg saluted as he spun on his heel and walked out the door. Catherine laughed quietly as she watched him round the corner. The next thing she knew was a burst of pain to the back of her head and she fell to the ground.

XxX

"And that's all I remember. When I woke up two hours later, Greg was gone and his vest was on the ground out front covered in blood."

Grissom's face became very grim. "Take the vest to DNA and have someone run a test. I want positive identification on whose blood it is. If it's Greg, that might explain why his head hurts."

Grissom next picked up the talkie and held it out to Nick. "Take this down to AV and have Archie see if he can find a trace to the other receiver. And keep an ear out for Greg; someone must be with this thing at all times."

"You got it," Nick said as he took an evidence bag from the table and Grissom dropped it in. Catherine and Nick immediately left, leaving Grissom, Sara and Warrick alone in the Break Room.

"What should we do?" Warrick asked anxiously. He wouldn't just sit around and wait for his friend to die, and neither would Sara.

Grissom immediately had an answer. "You and Sara keep looking for connections between all the victims, and include Greg. I really don't think these attacks were random."

"We're on it," Sara said as she led Warrick out of the room.

Grissom stood stone still for a moment in the empty room, completely engrossed in his emotions. Fear, anxiousness and anger coursed through his every vein until he couldn't bear it. Running up to the counter, he swiped everything to the floor, causing mugs to break into a million pieces and silverware to clang loudly against the hard floor.

"Stay strong Greg. We will find you." "No matter what it takes."

CHAPTER 5

"Can do." Greg saluted as he turned on his heel and walked out the door. He barely heard the sound of Catherine's laughter as he turned the corner and walked around back. The back yard was as bad as the front; nothing was living for miles in every direction, except for the three-foot tall weeds that littered the landscape.

After a minute of searching (and a few scrapes from the weeds) Greg reached the back door. Reaching out, he grabbed the knob, only to find it locked. Doing the same for the window, he found the same results.

"Okay. I take it no one's been back here. And for good reason too; these dang weeds really itch." Scrapes had become visible against his tanned skin, each bleeding slightly. "Great. I'm outta here."

He slowly made his way back to the front, mumbling he whole time. "Dang kids and their prank calls, got me outta bed for nothin'. What was the caller's name; Seamore Butts?"

Reaching the front once again, Greg looked in the front door, but there were no signs of movement. "Catherine? Where ya at?"

Silence.

"Okay, this isn't funny anymore. Catherine!"

When no answer came, Greg turned and began to head toward the car. But before he could make it half way to the black Tahoe, he was hit in the back of the head and fell to the ground.

XxX

The assailant chuckled quietly and carried the unconscious CSI to the back of the house. Hidden in the brush and weeds was a small tan Mazda, perfectly hidden from view at the house.

Opening the trunk, the assailant unceremoniously threw Greg in and slammed the lid before getting in the driver's seat and driving off.

XxX

Greg woke up with a fearful yell, trying to sit up abruptly. It wasn't until it was too late that he remembered where he was and hit his head hard against the lid of the coffin.

"Ow," he mumbled as he slowly laid his head back down and rubbed his forehead slowly. "That's Gonna leave a mark."

Shifting his sore body slightly, he felt something fall from his chest and clang loudly against the floor.

"Hm?" Bringing his hands back down, he shifted on his side as much as he could to sweep his bound hands across the small metal object; the flashlight. Turning it on, he shut his sore eyes against the bright light and slowly opened them again.

'Okay, let's make sure there's no more surprises in here with me.' Lifting his head as much as he could, he swept the flashlight across the whole area of the coffin.

Starting at his feet, nothing came into view, and shifting his feet confirmed it. The same outcome came for both of his sides, except for the walkie-talkie that must have fallen to his right and what seemed to be a hole in the wall. Placing a hand over the opening, he felt a slight rush of cold air puff through; after another ten seconds, another release of air. 'This is how I've been getting my air. But it's only coming in small bursts. If I breathe too quickly, I could use up more air than the machine can give off.'

Laying his head back down, he raised an eyebrow as he saw an envelope taped to the wall behind his head. After several minutes of awkwardly shifting (and a number of pain filled obscenities), he placed the envelope on his chest.

Greg rubbed his temple as the throbbing intensified. 'My wound is going to start bleeding again if I don't get it taken care of soon.'

Returning to the envelope, he found his name printed neatly on the front. Placing the flashlight in his mouth, he picked the envelope up with trembling hands. Inside was a note:

Don't be upset little Greggy; you're only getting what you deserve. This is how it ended for me, the other four involved with my case, and it is how it will end for you.

Greg crumpled the letter with a cry of despair, causing the flashlight to fall from his mouth and shatter on the floor. Greg put his hands to his face and cried quietly for a few minutes.

He stopped abruptly when he remembered his connection with his friends. Adjusting his shoulders until it was finally reachable, he grabbed the talkie and tried to take a steadying breath.

"Grissom? You still there?"

XxX

Archie Kao was sitting at his computer as Nick rushed into the room.

"I need you to trace the signal to this other talkie Arch."

"Well, hello to you too," the young Asian mumbled sarcastically.

Nick sighed, "I'm sorry man, I'm just really stressed. Greg's been kidnapped and we need to find him, now."

Archie nodded, "Catherine called me with a heads up. She knew you'd be in a hurry. All right, let's get the serial number and work from there."

Nick barely got the number read off, when static burst through the device.

"KCHHGrissomKCHHYou still there?"

Nick nearly dropped the talkie in surprise, catching it just before it hit the table.

"Talk to him," Archie hissed, "Reassure him that he isn't alone."

Nick nodded. "Greg! Greggo, ya hear me man?"

Silence followed, then- "Nick? Hey dude."

The Texan's heart dropped at how strained and tired the voice sounded. "Greg, how ya doin?"

"My head stillKCHH but it's st..KCH bleeding for now. How longKCHHH I been here?"

Nick thought hard about that, guessing from the time Catherine said they had been attacked at the house. "Around five or six hours. Do you have any idea where you are or who put you there?"

A savage cough was heard on the other end before Greg answered. His words were even quieter than they had been before; barely above a whisper. "I don't knowKCHHHI am, or who putKCHHhere. But they left a note. It said something like; 'Don't be upset, you're onlyKCHHHwhat you deserve. This is how it ended for me, theKCHHHfour, and now you'. Nick, I'm totally freaked. Can youKCHHfind me, please?"

Nick's heart sank even more as he heard the defeated tone in the younger CSI's voice. "Of course we are looking for ya man. We'd never leave you there. I'm with Archie right now, trying to track your talkie."

He heard a faint chuckle on the other end. "Snooping in other peoKCH conversatiKCHH again Archie? You're gonnaKCHHHcaught sometime."

Archie laughed quietly. "Not as long as a certain field mouse keeps his big yap shut around Ecklie. It's good to hear ya Greg."

"It's good toKCHHHyou guys too."

Archie raised an eyebrow at his computer screen. "Hey Nick. The frequency is being shuffled somehow, but I was able to skim in down to five different locations around town." He pressed a button on the keypad and grabbed a printed map from the printer. Taking a red marker, he circled the five points and handed it to Nick.

"Thanks Archie, you're the best." Nick got up and left the room. "Hey Greg, we're getting closer Bud. Archie just cut down the search immensely, and- Greg? You still with me?"

Nick's only reply was a low, quiet moan from the other end. His heart skipped a beat.

"Hold on Greg, I promise we will find you soon." He immediately ran down the hall.

XxX

Twenty steps. That's how long it took to go from one end to the other. Twenty-five if she slowed down; eighteen if she sped up. Catherine waited anxiously for the results from the vest. She had been pacing the length of the DNA lab over and over again, unconsciously keeping note of how many steps it took to cross the room each time.

Hodges watched her in slight amusement as he waited for the machine to stop its continuous humming. "Willows, wearing a hole into my floor isn't going to make the results move faster."

Catherine immediately stopped and looked at him. "I know David, but I just feel like it is my fault that this happened. Brass told me to meet him for a police escort, but I didn't; I just took Greg and led him right into danger. If I had just listened, none of this would be happening." She suddenly broke down into quiet sobs.

Hodges was taken aback by the sudden display. He wasn't use to seeing such a strong person lose control like this. He stepped forward and awkwardly patted her on the back. "I, ah, I'm sure Sanders is fine."

Catherine choked slightly on a chuckle; David Hodges was trying to comfort her. "Thanks Hodges, I'm sure you're right." 'I can't believe I just said that.'

The machine finally switched off and Hodges pulled the paper from the printer. Scanning it over for a second, her handed it to Catherine. "There's only one type of blood on the vest. All of it's from Sanders."

Catherine's shoulders slumped. "Than this has gotten us nowhere. I guess we'll have to hope Nick comes up with something on the talkie." As she walked toward the door, she suddenly turned around. "Uh, Hodges. Thanks." She already out the door by the time Hodges heard her, and a barely seen smile crossed his face.

CHAPTER 6

Grissom pulled up to the old house that had so abruptly become the worst crime scene he had ever had to process. Sighing heavily, he thought through Catherine's story. "Greg was sent out back to check for an entrance. But Catherine found his vest covered in blood on the front yard." Making his way slowly to where Catherine had picked up the vest, he found a small pool of blood. Pulling a swab from his kit, he took a sample and moved to the backyard. The weeds in the back were very tall and thick, so Grissom could easily see the path of broken weeds Greg had walked through.

"Only one path," Grissom noted, "Assailant may have never been back here."

Turning around to head back, a couple of the weeds caught his eye. Barely visible along the length of a few weeds were miniscule traces of blood.

"From some scratches while walking through here no doubt. But is this all Greg's?" Walking over carefully, he snapped off each bloody branch, placing them in separate bags. By the time he walked back around front, he had a dozen bags in hand.

Looking through the front door, he saw no disturbance in the dirt-covered floor, besides the place where Catherine said she had fallen. "Whoever this was had this thoroughly planned out, as if they wanted Greg only. They could have just taken Catherine while Greg was around back, but they seemed to want her out of the way for the sole purpose of getting Greg unnoticed. What would they want with-"

Grissom was cut from his thoughts as his phone echoed loudly through the empty house. "Grissom."

"Hey!" Nick yelled, causing the senior CSI to jerk the phone away from his ear. "Archie narrowed the search. I'm heading toward trace to find the others. I also got a hold of Greg. He said he found a note that made it sound like the attacker was seeking revenge on him for something." Nick's breathing was slightly faster than normal; he must be running down the halls still.

"Good job Nicky. I'll be there in twenty. I need to stop by DNA and have something checked." Grissom snapped the phone shut and ran back to his car. He didn't know what to expect from the case, but he was certain he wouldn't remember seeing any of the street lights on the way back to the lab.

XxX

Nick continued to run down the hall as he shoved his phone in his pocket, keeping a tight grip on the talkie and map in his other hand. Turning the corner, he ran straight into someone, sending papers everywhere. Catching his balance, Nick took a quick glance back while he continued running and grinned happily when he saw Conrad Ecklie snatching up his fallen papers and mumbling under his breath. "Couldn't have happened to anyone more worthy than Ecklie." Nick smirked as he came to an abrupt halt in front of trace.

Rushing into the room, he saw Sara and Warrick look up at him in surprise. "Guys, I've got our search areas!"

"Great," Warrick said, "And we have found a link between the four victims and Greg. Two years ago, the FBI brought in a huge mass killing. Only five of our specialists were chosen to work the case and it was kept heavily under wraps. Tyler Mitchell, Katie Peters, Mike Stevens, Debbie Thompson and Greg Sanders were the team."

Sara added her two cents worth next. "Because of their work, Peter Jackson was arrested on seven charges of first degree murder. He served two years, then was given the injection."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "So, this is who we think it is? Some murderer's ghost come back to seek revenge?"

Warrick reached over and slapped Nick in the arm. "Come on man, this is serious. He's the only one all five of the victims have in common. Someone on the outside must be seeking revenge for Jackson."

Nick looked at his watch. "Grissom will be here in a few; he wanted to check on something. I'll go get Catherine and we will figure this out." He set the map and talkie on the table. "Guard these with your lives." Then he was gone.

Warrick rubbed his hand over his face with a sigh. "I'm going to grab some coffee while we wait. You comin'?"

Sara shook her head, "I'll stay here. See if there is anything we missed."

Warrick knew they hadn't missed anything after working for about an hour, but he just shrugged as he walked out. "Suit yourself. Be back."

Sara sagged in her chair and held her head in exhaustion. "Where are ya Greggo?"

"KCHHNick?KCHHH"

Sara's head shot up. She heard the static more than the whisper of a voice, but she immediately sprang for the talkie. "Greg? Greg, are you there!"

A slight moan was heard from the other end, then a weak chuckle. "Sara? I'munder ground with like a six-inch radiusKCHHaround me. You don't have to yell."

Sara's cheeks tinged red slightly in embarrassment. "Sorry Greg. Are you all right? How are you doing?"

Greg's short, ragged breaths were the only sounds heard for a moment before he answered. "I know this isn't what you KCHHto hear, but not well at all. MyKCHHstartedKCHHHagain, and I'm starting to feelKCHHsick. Then my hands areKCHHHraw and bloody fromKCHHHthose ties."

Sara noticed how bad the reception seemed to be getting and started to worry about Greg's battery power. "We've got five places set out to find you Greg. Do you remember the case you did for the FBI two years ago?"

Greg stayed quiet for a minute as he thought. "I helped convictKCHHJackson for seven murders. What's that gottaKCHHHwith anything?"

Sara's hands were visibly trembling now. She didn't know what she was doing telling Greg all of this, but she couldn't stop now. "He's a connection between you and the other four victims. You five were the ones who worked the case."

"I had never metKCHHother peopleKCHHHthe team. We did our part and kept quiet about it. But PeterKCHHwas injected last month, how could he have done anything?"

Sara nodded in understanding at hoe ludicrous the whole thing sounded, but she was sure that this was the only lead they had. "Do you know if he has any friends or family who may want revenge?"

Greg moaned quietly, his head beginning to throb in pain again. "I don'tKCHSara. I can't think very straightKCHHHnow. AndKCHHseem to beKCHHout."

Sara started to panic. She couldn't let their only connection with Greg be lost, but she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. "Greg! Hey, you still with me?"

Static filled the talkie, but she barely heard Greg's whisper.

"I'm sorry Sara. KCHHyou guys wereKCHHHbest friends. KCHHTell Grissom I'm sorry. I never should have gone against him. KCHHand please tell everyone I said goodbKCCHHHH"

The line went dead.

XxX

"No! Greg? Greg!"

Everyone ran into the room as Sara was desperately crying out the name. Not only did the team run in, but Archie and Jacqui were close behind.

"Sara! What happened!" Nick yelled as he ran up to her.

Sara was crying openly now as she dropped the talkie. "It died!"

"Greg!" The others yelled in horror. They couldn't believe that was the answer. Not when they were getting closer to finding him.

Sara shook her head. "The talkie. Greg was talking to me about Peter Jackson and his talkie was cutting out badly. He saidto tell Grissomhe was sorryand thatwe're all his best friends. Andtosaygoodbye."

Everyone stood in complete shock. For what seemed like an eternity, nothing moved or made a sound; even the machines located around the room seemed to be awkwardly silent.

Catherine finally broke down and cried into Grissom's shoulder, who tried to comfort her through his own stupor. Archie and Jacqui seemed to be in about the same position, while Warrick fell heavily onto the chair behind him, staring unknowingly at the table in front of him.

Nick didn't move. His hands were clenched into ghost-white fists, and he was shaking his head slowly. "No, we'll still find him. We've got the locations! We just gotta find which one it is!"

Grissom looked at the trembling hand by his side. It held a piece of paper he had just brought from DNA. "All right, we're not giving up. I went back to the scene and found traces of blood in the backyard on some of the weeds. Most of it was Greg's, but I did find some unknown traces. They came out to be from one Christopher Jackson."

"Is he a relation to Peter?" Warrick asked, pretty sure he was stating a very stupid question. But it seemed to help him after it had been said.

Nick ran over to the nearest computer and typed in the name. "Christopher Jackson. Only some petty parking tickets on file. But he's the son of Peter and Mary Jackson."

"Do they own any kind of land where they could bury something large unnoticed?" Jacqui asked from her place next to Archie. Neither lab tech was planning on leaving until they had found and helped their long lost friend find his way back to them.

Nick looked through the file quickly. "You gotta be kidding me. The guys owns the warehouse where you got the box from!"

Grissom felt like he had been punched in the stomach. "He could be under the very ground where we first started this while fiasco?"

"You can't be serious," Catherine whispered.

Warrick snatched the forgotten map off the table and looked at the five red dots. "It's one of the hot spots!"

Grissom was already heading out the door. "Let's get out there and see if we can find anything! Greg can't have much air left. Archie, Jacqui, grab Hodges and come; we'll need all the help we can get right now. Catherine, get Brass and tell him to meet us out front."

No one else had to be told twice as they followed out the door.

CHAPTER 7

Greg was falling deeper and deeper into his state of shock. His only link to his friends was now dead, and he was now breathing much too fast for the machine to puff out enough smoke to fill his starving lungs.

His thoughts were changing as quickly as he was breathing, but one thing kept coming back.

"What did I do to deserve this? I only identified DNA and fibers for the case. I didn't even know the guy."

His breathing hitched again, now breathing too fast for any of the air to reach his lungs.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

His heartbeat had become erratic trying to keep up with his breathing; he felt like it would explode at any moment. Tears began to fall freely, mixing with the dark crimson blood pooling underneath his head and upper body.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm-"

Greg's eyes snapped open as he heard noises above him. Listening as best he could, his heart jumped as the sound of digging became louder and louder.

"They found me! Theyfoundme."

The last thing Greg remembered was the lid of the coffin being swung open and someone standing over him before he blacked out.

XxX

The quiet night air of the abandoned factory district was pierced with the loud shrill of three different sirens.

Jim Brass, along with Grissom in the passenger seat and Catherine and Archie in the back, led in a squad car. Directly behind them, Warrick drove one of the lab's Tahoes, with Nick in the passenger seat and Sara, Jacqui and Hodges in the back. The final siren came from and ambulance bringing up the rear.

No one spoke throughout the entire trip, each too lost in their own thoughts of what their best friend would look like when they reached him.

Out of everyone, Grissom was the one who seemed to have his thoughts focused the farthest from the scene. His mind kept replaying the fight he had had with Greg the night before the kidnapping. He thought he had been helping Greg by keeping him hidden and away from the case, but he should have known the young CSI wouldn't listen. And even if he had listened, Chris Jackson had his targets picked out, and he would have gotten Greg anyhow.

Tires screeched to a halt and six doors slammed. Catherine and Warrick ran ahead, each towing a heat sensor.

"Look for any signs that the ground has been disturbed recently!" Grissom yelled to everyone in the area.

Several voices could be heard throughout the area, yelling Greg's name as loud as they could; hoping the young man could somehow hear and respond to their calls.

Warrick and Catherine worked feverishly, looking for any trace of a heat signature under the ground.

"You finding anything!" Archie yelled across the clearing.

Catherine sighed and shook her head.

Archie's shoulders slumped in defeat, before he raised his hands to his mouth and rejoined the chorus drifting through the air. "Greg! Where are ya?"

"Come on Greggo. Hold on just a little longer." Nick thought as he searched the ground for clues. "We aren't finding anything Grissom!"

Refusing to listen, Grissom tuned out into his own thoughts. "This just seems too easy. Jackson must have went through a lot of trouble to make sure Greg was at that house just to lead us straight to him. It's like he wanted us to find Greg after awhile."

"I've got something! Hey! I've got it!"

Everything became dead silent as Warrick's voice rang through the grounds.

Grissom had never run so fast in his life as he made his way to where the voice had some from, followed by the rest of the group.

Warrick had already abandoned his heat sensor and was furiously throwing dirt to the side with his hands.

As Grissom reached Warrick, he saw Nick, Archie and Hodges running toward them with shovels. Grissom reached down and pulled a flailing Warrick out of the way just in time.

Everyone else had gathered around also, leaving a radius just big enough for the shovelers to throw their dirt.

Warrick fought frantically to get back into the rapidly growing hole, to the point where Brass and Catherine had to help Grissom hold him back.

"Warrick! They've got him now! You need to settle down!" Brass yelled.

"No! You don't understand! I need to help!"

Sara ran in front of him and put her hands on his chest. "Warrick. There's nothing you can do."

"Greg might be dead!"

Everyone's' grips fell, but Warrick didn't attempt to run as he turned to face them.

"The heat reading. Greg's body temp should at least be 98 degrees in there if he hasn't been getting overheated from the close space. It's at 88 degrees now."

No one moved as this information sank in.

"H-how?" Catherine whispered. "We just talked to him. A DB only loses one degree every hour! How could his temperature drop so much in less than an hour?"

"I-I don't know," Brass stuttered.

Grissom's gaze never left the three digging, and they had to be at least five feet deep by now.

Nick's shovel suddenly bounced back at him with a hollow thud.

"I hit something! Keep going!"

Nick uncovered a corner of the coffin, and within ten minutes, they had the whole thing surfaced.

Archie and Hodges jumped out and went to stand with the others as Warrick jumped in to help Nick lift the lid.

"Greg!" Nick yelled as the lid fell against the ground. "Oh no."

Sara and Catherine were both now fighting Grissom and Brass so that they could reach the hole and see in, but the two males wouldn't let them anywhere near until Nick and Warrick knew the situation.

"Nick!" Catherine cried. "Warrick! Please, is he all right!"

Warrick staggered drunkenly out of the hole and over to his team as Nick fell to his knees in the hole.

Sara's tears were falling freely now as she watched her friend approach. "Oh God. Please no!"

Grissom looked at Warrick as he drew closer, noting the look of confusion in the younger man's eyes. "What's wrong?"

Warrick looked up at the group slowly. "Greg isn't in there."

CHAPTER EIGHT

All heads shot up and everyone ran to the hole in time to see Nick throw something out of the coffin.

"Nick!" Hodges screamed. "The evidence! You can't move it without-"

"Screw the pictures and gloves! We know who's doing this to us already! And that bastard is going to pay!"

Grissom knelt next to the item Nick had tossed from the coffin. "It's a dummy."

"That's being very lenient on the guy Griss," Brass said, "I was thinking more along the lines of bastard or SOB."

"No!" Grissom interrupted. "This dummy. There was a heated dummy in the coffin, set to make it look like someone had just died in there recently."

"So you're telling me that Greg was never in there!" Sara yelled, running up to the edge of the hole.

"He was in here," Nick whispered, his voice full of venom, "Everything else is still here."

Laying haphazardly throughout the coffin was a broken flashlight, a crumpled up piece of paper, the dead walkie-talkie, and a large pool of blood covering the top half of the case.

"The average male body has 12 pints of blood," Warrick stated matter of factly, but his voice was laced with disgust. "And there has to be at least four pints in there."

"He's toying with us," Grissom whispered, "Chris Jackson somehow knows how far our progress has gotten and moved Greg just before we got here. Greg must be alive; why else go through the trouble of moving him away from us again?"

"Grissom! Look at this!" Nick reached into the base of the coffin and pulled out another envelope, this one sealed and less bloody than everything else.

"Open it up. Right now."

Nick didn't need to be told twice as he instantly ripped it open and pulled out the letter.

Everything dies; but given the right size of power, it can live again.

"What does it mean?" Catherine asked.

Grissom's eyes flicked straight to the coffin. "The same as last time. The walkie-talkie. It died while Greg was talking to Sara. With the right size batteries, it can be 'brought back to life'."

Nick immediately grabbed the talkie. "It's still dead. Archie, grab a 9-volt from a kit."

The A/V tech automatically ran to the first kit he found, grabbed the right size, and practically threw it at Nick.

"Give it to me Nick," Grissom said sternly, holding out his hand.

Nick looked at his boss wide-eyed as he explained. "You are too close to this Nick. You don't need to be the one on the line right now."

Nick hesitated, exchanging glances between the talkie and Grissom before he finally handed it up. Warrick helped Nick out of the hole as Grissom turned on the talkie.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

For a full minute, there was nothing but static. Then-

"Hello Mr. Grissom. It's good to hear you again. I see you found my little present. Too bad you weren't ten minutes earlier; you might have caught me."

"Where is Greg? Why are you doing this to him?"

Chris laughed on the other end. "Oh, Greg played a very important role in the death of my father. I'm just repaying the favor."

Grissom furrowed his brow. "I understand that you picked up all of your other victims at their homes, but Greg was at a crime scene. How did you know that Brass would call Greg to that house and not someone else?"

Brass looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about? I didn't call anybody, anywhere."

An evil chuckle filled the room from the small talkie. "It's a wonder who people think you sound like when they are half asleep."

Catherine's eyes widened in surprise and horror. "Y-you were the one who called me? To make sure Greg was at the house. Th-that's why there wasn't an officer on the scene. Oh my God, this is all my fault."

"Not now Catherine." Grissom snapped loudly. He was quickly beginning to lose his patience. "Where is Greg, Chris?"

There was an exaggerated sigh on the other end. "All right; let's play a new game. I have placed Greg into another box at a new location, but there is a catch. I didn't give him any kind of air supply; he's living only on what is naturally stored in the box. On the back of your note is the location. No police, and only four of you may come. You had better hurry, Greg has already been in there for twenty minutes. Good luck. KCHHH"

Grissom looked at the others; there seemed to be more blood in the coffin than there was in all nine of their faces combined.

Nick quickly looked at his hand, seeing the now crumpled paper in his fist. "They're on the back." He barely kept from ripping the paper as he flattened it against his pant leg. "They're here! Let's go!"

"Wait!" Jacqui yelled. "Only four people can go."

"Right," Brass said, "Archie, take the girls and Hodges back to the lab."

"What?" Catherine and Sara both yelled.

"You can't do that!" Sara yelled, "We are part of this team too!"

Grissom stepped up and put his hands on Sara's shoulders. "Everyone here is part of the team Sara. Everyone has helped in his or her own way to find Greg. But right now, only four of us can go, and I need you with Catherine. Greg's safety must be ensured; that is our number one priority, but Catherine needs someone to talk to right now. Please understand."

Sara took a deep breath and nodded. Grissom smiled softly and removed his hands, then watched as Archie and Hodges led Sara, Jacqui and a shocked Catherine to one of the awaiting vehicles and to tell the paramedics the news.

"Let's go," Nick said urgently, already heading toward the other car.

"I'm driving Nick!" Brass yelled after him as the other three followed.

CHAPTER NINE

Greg woke up with his head spinning, barely able to hold back the nausea he was feeling. Looking around, he was surprised to see his surroundings still completely dark and clastophobic.

"What? I thought I saw the lid open. Was I imagining things?"

He raised his hands to his head to rub his throbbing temple, but a s he placed his fingers against his skin, he didn't feel his hair. He felt cloth. Resting his whole hand against the spot, he felt a sheet-like material tied loosely around the wound on the back of his head.

"What the-? Either someone has been in here and closed me back in, or I've learned how to be a doctor be my sleep. But it's only slowed the blood flow. Why did they leave me here?"

As soon as Greg set his hands beck down on his chest, a loud thump banged against the lid of the coffin, as if someone was knocking. Greg jumped too quickly to stop himself from banging his head on the lid. "Ow! What the-"

"Hello Greg. Having fun?"

Greg blinked his eyes furiously as he tried to rid them of the black spots; he slightly noticed that his breathing had pitched a notch. "Who-who are you?"

The voice laughed loudly. "Poor Greggy, so confused and scared. You know, you've been in the dark almost eight hours now. But that is NOTHING compared to what my FATHER went through in prison before his injection!"

Greg squinted his eyes as he thought. "Jackson?"

"Yes Greg. My father was Peter Jackson. The one you and those other four killed! It wasn't hard to find all five of you; you were all at his trial, I just needed to tap into a few files in your lab's database to find out who exactly you were. The others got off easy; hit in the back of the head with a hammer and left in an airless coffin til they died. Oh, they all woke up before they died and tried to get free, that's why their fingers were practically gone, from scratching at the lid of the coffin; but they didn't get away. But you, you were a special case Greg; I took a great interest in you. You were younger than the rest and I couldn't understand why you wanted a job like you have; jumping into other people's lives when they're dead, judging people by how they treat others. Then, after following you for a while, I realized what it was; you were friends with the whole CSI team, who all almost praised your talents in the lab. So, I decided to have a little fun with you. Sure, I captured and buried you like I had done the rest, but I gave you air and a way to communicate with your friends. I couldn't pass up a chance to ruin your friends, as well as you. And now, you only have a few minutes of air left, and your friends still haven't found you. What a crying shame."

"Sh-shut up!" Greg was crying now, both from the excruciating pain, and the confession he had just heard, confirming his death. "You-you did all this. Killed all those people, just for putting your dad in prison cause HE killed seven people? Y-you'll be charged with the same crimes for this!"

Chris laughed again (he does that a lot), "Oh, you don't seem to get it Greggy; I don't care. I have nothing left. My mother died of grief a week after Dad was injected. I don't have any siblings or other family. I don't care how this turns out. As long as you go down with me!"

A loud crash suddenly erupted from outside the coffin, causing Greg to hit his head again in surprise. The sound of muffled voices, and then a struggle were barely heard, but then a new voice came clearly from above the coffin.

"Greg?"

"Nick?"

-----------------

Brass pulled up to the house registered under Mr. and Mrs. Peter Jackson, the ambulance parking just around the block. He turned around in his seat.

"Okay," he started quietly, "It's very important that we don't lose our cool in there. This guy seems to want us to find him now; and every minute is going to count."

"We got it," Nick said impatiently, "Let's get Greg out of there!"

Grissom turned to look at the younger CSI in the back seat. "Nick, you must stay calm, or we will not let you go in. I need you to keep a calm head, and talk to Greg once we find him. He needs his best friend's support and guidance right now."

Nick took a deep breath and nodded, receiving a pat on the shoulder from Warrick. "Let's go."

All four pulled their firearms and got out of the car. Brass took the lead as he stood in front of the door, the three CSI's fanning both sides, and he kicked the door in. Guns raised, they all entered a small hallway leading to two different rooms, and a staircase to the second floor.

"He's gotta be upstairs, or else he would of heard us," Warrick whispered, receiving nods all around. The stairs led to three closed doors. Each one was opened quickly and stealthily, but it was the last one (go figure) that they heard the first sign of life.

"I don't care how this turns out. As long as you go down with me!"

"NOW!" Brass yelled as he slammed the door open.

Inside stood a man around 5'8", short brown hair and medium build. He was casually leaning against a large box in the middle of the room, much like the coffin Greg had been in earlier. The man jumped up as the door slammed against the wall.

"Christopher Jackson!" Brass yelled, gun raised, "You are under arrest!"

Chris laughed quietly as he looked at the four men, eyes falling on one in particular. "Well, well, Mr. Grissom. So good of you to join us. I was just telling Greg here a little story."

"Get away from the box," Warrick said, lowering his gun when he saw Chris' hands were empty. Nick did the same, but Grissom and Brass kept their guns trained on the psychotic man.

Chris shook his head. "You'll have to kill me first."

Nick glared evilly. "NOT a good thing to say in front of us man. Get away, or I will kill you myself."

"Nick," Grissom warned.

Just as Nick brought down his guard to look at his boss, Chris lunged past him and pulled Warrick to the ground. The two struggled furiously on the ground.

"Nick! Get to the box!" Grissom yelled as Brass jumped into the fight.

Nick immediately ran across the room and nearly fell on top of the box. "Greg?"

There was barely a hesitation as Greg yelled back. "Nick!"

"Don't worry Greg! We're here and we're not leaving without you!"

"Nick! Please, get me out of here! Please!"

Nick tried to lift the lid, but it wouldn't budge. The top had been padlocked to the bottom.

Greg's cries became frantic when he thought Nick was getting him out. "Nick! Please, don't leave me here! Get me out!" His words quickly became muffled as he was racked with horrible coughs.

Nick's eyes grew very wide, and his heart stopped. "Greg! Ya gotta settle down and conserve your air until I can get the key. Ya hear me Bud?"

The coughs continued for a little longer. "Nick, I can't breathe. Please, open the lid."

"Greg, please settle down. There is a lock on the lid, so I have to find the key. I'll get you out, but you've gotta calm down. Ya got it? Tell me!"

"I got it," Greg cried hoarsely.

Nick smiled, "Good job Greggo." He looked up and saw the other three, holding Chris handcuffed and sitting on his knees in front. "Where is the key?"

Chris grinned madly as he looked at Nick. "Nick Stokes. The best friend who invites Greg over for football games, or stops in the lab just to say 'hey'. You must be completely torn up by this. Greg is so close, you can almost touch him, but that box is in the way."

Nick growled as he lunged at Chris and punched him in the face.

"Woah! Slow down man!" Warrick yelled as he grabbed Nick by the shoulders and pulled him back.

"Where is the damn key?"

Chris grinned as he nodded to a desk drawer. "Take your pick."

Nick and Warrick ran to the drawer and groaned in protest. Inside was at least two dozen keys, all the exact same size.

"You've got to be kidding!" Warrick yelled, "Grissom! There are too many keys in here!"

Grissom ran up and looked at the keys for himself. "He's still toying with us."

THUMP THUMP "Nick! COUGH Nick, please! I can't breathe! COUGH."

"Please Greg, hold on!" Nick looked at Grissom, worry and fear flaring in his eyes.

Grissom immediately grabbed the entire drawer and carried it to the box. "Greg? Greg, listen to me. Take a deep breath, hold it and count to five, then let it go. All right? You need to slow your breathing and save any air left in there. You got it? Knock twice if you understand."

Pause.

THUMPTHUMP

"Good job Greg. Nick, keep talking to him. Only questions he can answer by knocking."

Nick nodded as Grissom continued to look through the keys. "Greg, Grissom's looking for the right key. Ya gotta stay calm and answer my questions. You said your head was bleeding earlier; is it still? Knock once for no, two for yes."

THUMPTHUMP.

"Good job Greg. Is anything else hurt?"

THUMPTHUMP

"Is that bleeding?"

THUMPTHUMP

"All right Bud, you know we'll get you out. You know you can always trust your friends, right?"

Pause. THUMPTHUMP.

"Got it!" Grissom yelled as he snapped open the lock.

THUMP!

"Hold on Greg, we got it!" Warrick yelled, trying to work the big lock off.

"That wasn't Greg."

All three CSI's looked quickly over to the door. Chris was standing over a motionless Brass, the captain's gun trained on Warrick. "Get away from the box."

"We're not letting you do this," Nick growled.

Chris aimed the gun at Nick now. "He ruined my life! He took BOTH my parents from me! He has to pay! Now get away!"

The three males sighed and slowly stood.

Greg began to bang frantically on the lid again. "Nick." The voice was very hoarse and raspy now. "Nick, open upGrissomCOUGHWarr-"

"Greg!" Warrick reached down to work on removing the lock again, but a gunshot split the corner of the box, the wood striking Warrick's hand. "AHH!"

"I said no touching! Greg isn't getting out of here alive!"

BANG!

Nothing moved, until Chris' eyes suddenly rolled to the back of his head, and he fell to the ground. Brass had lifted himself to his shoulder, back-up gun still in the air.

Christopher Jackson had been shot in the chest, never to open his eyes again.

As soon as the initial shock had lifted, Nick flung around and worked the lock off the case. Warrick and Grissom each grabbed a corner and the three lifted the lid.

Inside laid their long lost friend and companion. Greg Sanders was ghost-white, except for the blood that covered his entire body. His head was carelessly wrapped in a simple cloth, having slowed the bleeding slightly. Red, angry gashes could be seen on both wrists and ankles, where the thick wire ties were still cutting into the tattered skin. But the thing that really caught their attention-

The young CSI wasn't breathing.

CHAPTER 10

"No! Get him outta there!" Grissom took Greg's feet, while Nick got him by the shoulders. They lifted him carefully out of the box, then set him on the ground.

"Warrick, go help Brass!" Grissom yelled as he laid his head on Greg's chest. "His heart stopped. Nick, start chest compressions!"

Nick immediately cupped his hands just below Greg's ribcage and firmly pushed down about two inches. "One, two, three, four, five."

Grissom plugged Greg's nose and lifted his chin before slowly blowing two breaths into the younger man's mouth.

Nick watched Greg's chest rise and fall with each breath, but nothing happened.

"Do it again! One, two, three, four, five."

Breath. Breath.

Nothing.

"One, two, three, four, five."

Breath. Breath

Greg suddenly took in a harsh breath and began to choke on the stale air still in his lungs.

"Yes! Ha ha!" Nick cheered.

Grissom carefully lifted Greg's upper body by the shoulders and rested the younger CSI's head against his chest. "Don't worry Greg, we've got you now. Just slow your breathing and the choking will stop."

Greg continued to cough for a few more seconds, but they quickly turned into loud sobs as he cried into Grissom's chest. Nick cautiously reached forward and grabbed onto Greg's bound hands. Greg's grip only tightened when he saw who's hand he was holding. His broken and half-strained cries echoed in the small room. "Nick."

"Don't worry Greg, you'll be fine, and Nick is gonna go get the paramedics and bring them in." Grissom raised his eyes to meet Nick's.

The Texan hesitated, but then realized he needed to hurry. "Ok, Greggo. I'll be right back, I promise." With that, Nick slowly released his grip and ran to the door, jumping over Jackson's prone body in the process.

Greg immediately felt the loss of his friend's warm hand and tried to curl in on himself, seeking the safety he believed it held. He was trembling uncontrollably, and it was only getting worse.

Grissom quickly pulled Greg back up and into a sitting position again. "Greg, I've got you. Nicky will be right back. Sshhh, you're safe now, nothing will happen to you again. I'm so sorry you had to go through this Greg. Warrick, I need a jacket."

Warrick Immediately worked his jacket off over his blistered hand, then he and Brass slowly walked over and knelt next to the two. He handed the heavy jacket to Grissom, who took it and covered Greg with it as much as he could, helping to fight back the shock.

Grissom slowly looked from the trembling form in his lap, to the two kneeling next to them. "You two all right?"

Brass nodded, "Yeah, he just knocked me in the head; it'll be fine. But Warrick here is gonna need a few stitches in his hand."

Warrick was holding his right hand against his chest, his shirt slightly bloody from the wound.

"Okay. Warrick, you go in the ambulance with Greg and get that looked at," Grissom ordered.

Warrick nodded, but he hadn't really heard what Grissom had said. His attention was on Greg, who was able to slow his breathing slightly, and was now looking up at him. "Hey man, you're gonna be all right." He reached forward and rubbed Greg's hair a little, carefully avoiding the cloth.

Greg nodded slowly. Tears were still flowing freely down his cheeks, but the human contact he was receiving was slowly helping his feelings get back into check.

Nick suddenly burst back into the room, paramedics right behind. "Here. I grabbed the wire cutters from my field kit. Let's get those ties off so he can be put on the stretcher."

Grissom helped Greg lift his trembling arms from his lap, causing Greg to visibly wince and hiss in pain.

"Sorry Greggo. We'll get those ties off and get you to the hospital."

Nick carefully slipped the blade under the tie around Greg's wrists and snapped it loose. Nick saw Greg bite his tongue against the pain, but all he could do was move on. The same was done to Greg's ankles, before Grissom allowed the paramedics lift Greg onto the awaiting gurney, the CSI jacket still wrapped tightly around Greg as his only safety blanket anchoring him to reality.

Grissom watched as Greg was lifted into the ambulance and Warrick jumped in after to have his hand checked, then he turned to Nick. The senior investigator could see the fear in the young Texan's eyes as he watched the medics put an oxygen mask over his best friend's mouth. "Go with them Nick." His head snapped toward Grissom immediately. "Go with them. I'll tell the girls what happened and meet you at the hospital."

Nick didn't need to be told twice as he immediately jumped in next to Warrick.

Grissom and Brass watched as the doors were shut and the ambulance pulled away.

"Well, that's it," Brass said quietly. "Our nightmare is over."

Grissom shook his head slowly. "No Jim. Our nightmare may be over, but Greg is nowhere near waking up."

---------------

Air and consciousness rushed back to Greg as he began to choke.

"Yes! Ha ha!"

Greg tried to smile at Nick's overjoyed outburst, but it only made him choke harder. He felt himself being lifted off the ground, then his head was resting against someone's chest. He could faintly hear the person's erratic heartbeat underneath their shirt.

"Don't worry Greg, we've got you now. Just slow your breathing and the choking will stop."

Greg tried to follow Grissom's instructions, but the coughing continued a few more seconds, tearing up even searing throat even further. When he was finally able to stop, he immediately broke down into sobs.

"They found me. Thank God, they found me."

He suddenly felt someone grab onto both of his hands with a tight, but comforting grip. He opened his eyes, and when he saw who it was, he gripped their hand even tighter.

"Nick," he croaked.

"Don't worry Greg, you'll be fine, and Nick is gonna go get the paramedics and bring them in," Grissom's voice echoed slightly in his head, but he didn't really understand it.

It wasn't until he heard Nick's voice that he focused. "Ok, Greggo. I'll be right back, I promise." And when he felt Nick's hand slip from his own, Greg lost what little sanity he had left.

"No! Please don't leave me! You can't leave me here!"

He subconsciously curled into a fetal little ball, trying to get away from everything. He was almost immediately pulled back up and held tighter. It was then that Grissom's voice drifted back to him.

"Greg, I've got you. Nicky will be right back. Sshhh, you're safe now, nothing will happen to you again. I'm so sorry you had to go through this Greg. Warrick, I need a jacket."

Greg slowly opened his eyes as he felt the heavy material placed on top of him, reaching all the way down to just above his ankles. Voices were drifting in and out around him, but all he was focused on, was the person kneeling in front of him. Warrick was staring intently at him, but his gaze was full of worry and fear for his friend.

"Hey man, you're gonna be all right."

Greg nodded. "They-they all keep telling me the same thing. But I seem to fell better every time it is said."

The next thing Greg was aware of, was his arms being raised and an excruciating pain coming from his wrists. His eyes snapped shut as he hissed in pain.

"Sorry Greggo. We'll get those ties off and get you to the hospital," Nick apologized quietly.

He watched as Nick slid the blade of the wire cutters under the tie, jarring the torn skin in the process. It broke with a snap, but as the tie was pulled out of the gash, a blinding white pain passed through his head, but he bit up the yell that was gurgling up his throat. The same pain rushed through him again, but this time from his ankles as they were too freed.

Almost as soon as the ties were removed, Greg was being lifted off the ground and placed on what he could only guess was a gurney with his eyes closed. He immediately tensed with the loss of the human contact he had had with Grissom, but he made sure that the CSI jacket was still pulled tightly around him and he held back the trembling that was struggling to worsen again.

He kept his eyes closed as he was pulled down the stairs and lifted into the ambulance. It wasn't until he felt a hand slip into his again that he opened his eyes. His gaze locked once again with Warrick's, whose grip only tightened slightly. Greg tried to lift his own hand to tighten his grip, but it wouldn't move. The fear must have shown in his face as his question was answered.

"Don't try and move Greggo."

Greg's eyes snapped to the right where Nick also sat, his hand unknowingly on Greg's knee.

"They have ya strapped down you don't move your wrists or ankles."

Greg slowly nodded as the medic carefully lifted his head to remove the blood-soaked cloth and replace it with thick gauze.

"I can't do anymore here after I have bandaged the wounds," the medic said, "Just make sure he stays awake until we arrive."

"Sure," Nick said.

Greg didn't hear any of this, as his eyes were locked on Warrick's hand that wasn't holding his own in a vise grip.

"Y-you're hurt," he rasped quietly.

Warrick's eyes clouded with slight confusion, then he looked at the hand in his lap. "Oh, it's just a scratch. Don't worry 'bout me. Just take it easy, all right?"

Greg nodded slowly. "So," he said with a slight smirk, when he saw how upset the other two were, "Did ya guysmiss me?" His smirk immediately disappeared as he saw the genuine concern flare up in his friends' eyes.

"Of course we missed ya," Warrick said, "Everyone was lookin for ya. But don't you be expectin' us to be goin' out and savin' your butt everyday. I only have one more hand."

Greg smiled lightly. "Thanks guys. You're the best."

The ambulance came to a stop and the doors were thrown open by two nurses. They each grabbed a side of the stretcher and pulled Greg out and onto the ground.

"Sorry," one of the medics said as Nick and Warrick tried to fallow. "He's being taken into the ER for his head. You'll have to go around front. And you need to get your hand checked out by a nurse up there; it's gonna need a few stitches."

"Okay, thanks," Nick sighed.

Warrick put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We got him back."

Nick nodded. "Yeah, but he's still got a hell of a way to go before he's recovered."

CHAPTER 12

Twenty paces. Fifteen long. Twenty-five short.

Catherine had once again found herself pacing, but this time it was in the Break Room. She and Sara had been waiting frantically for half an hour, but no word had come.

Jacqui, Archie and Hodges had all been called away by Ecklie, who was enraged that half his lab techs had left without a word. It wasn't until Catherine had blown up and told him about Greg that Ecklie finally settled down and steered clear of the two women.

"I can't take much more of this!" Sara yelled, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"They found him," Catherine assured her, "They had to have found him. Oh my God, this is all my fault."

Sara snapped around to her, both anger and hurt in her eyes. "This is not your fault Cath. The only one who can, and will, be blamed for this is Chris Jackson. Greg will come back to us, and will be all right."

Sara had started out loud and confident, but her voice became softer and cracked even more with every word.

Catherine's gaze fell to the ground. "My heart knows you're right, now just tell these visions flashing through my head."

The door suddenly slammed open, causing the two females to snap their attention to the new arrival.

"Grissom!" They both scrambled from their places and ran to the door. "How is Greg? What happened?"

Grissom shook his head. "I'll explain on the way to the hospital. Warrick and Nick are already there."

Sara shook her head. "Grissom please. At least tell us Greg is all right, and you caught that bastard, Jackson."

Grissom sighed; the two women wouldn't budge until they had been told something. "Chris Jackson is dead, but we had to resuscitate Greg after we found him."

Sara covered her mouth, while Catherine's hands snapped to her ears. Grissom had a slight urge to chuckle and cover his eyes to complete the well-known "See no evil" scene, but instantly smothered it. "Come on, let's go."

The girls nodded and left without another word. Grissom explained the whole story on the way to the hospital.

XxX

8 A.M. Eleven hours since the forged phone call was made. Seven hours since the box had been found, that plunged an entire team into a living nightmare. Two hours since they found their close friend inside a box, motionless and not breathing. And an hour and a half since they had last seen him, ash gray and covered in his own blood.

Nick unconsciously found himself checking his watch almost every other minute as he sat in the waiting room, anxious for some word on either of his friends.

He and Warrick had made it to the front desk, where Warrick was immediately whisked off to have his hand checked. Now, an hour later, he finally reemerged, he hand tightly bound in white gauze.

"Hey man, how's it looking'?" Nick asked as his friend sat down next to him.

Warrick shrugged. "The gunshot splintered the wood and lodged a piece in my hand. Ten stitches and enough painkillers to knock out a cow. Any word?"

Nick shook his head. "Notta. I've tried talkin' to a few people, but they just keep pushing me away. God, it's been almost two hours, how much longer will it take?"

"These things take time," Warrick said, placing his uninjured hand on the Texan's shoulder. "Don't worry Bro, everything will work out. Greg is strong, he's proven that to us before. He will make it through."

"Nick! Warrick!"

Both men looked up as Grissom, Catherine and Sara ran up. All three looked worse for wear, but they all had worried looks that asked only one thing. "Have they said anything?"

Both men shook their hands, causing a thick silence to fall between the five.

After a minute, Catherine chuckled quietly, catching everyone's attention.

"Mind sharin' Cath?" Sara asked. "I think we could all use a little chuckle right now."

Catherine shook her head. "Just thinkin' bout what Greg was like when he was still in the lab. You know, the crazy shirts, out of control hairdos-"

"And who could forget the rousing games of 'Name That Chemical Compound'?" Nick added with a slight laugh.

Warrick smiled. "Yeah, Greggo was a lot of fun at times in the lab, but he's calm down a lot since he came on the field. He said he needs to look and act more professional now; normal shirts, hair stays flat down. I think we're startin to lose the old Greg."

"He's just worried that he won't be able to handle himself outside of the lab," Grissom explained. "He just needs a little time."

"He might also need a little reminding of who he really is, and what we love about him," Sara added quietly.

The whole group fell silent, each thinking about different things, but they all were based around Greg. They needed to show their friend that it's all right to be himself in his new job, as soon as he heals.

'Which might take longer than everyone might think,' Grissom thought somberly.

XxX

"Mr. Sanders? Who brought in a Mr. Sanders?"

All heads snapped up as a doctor stopped in a room, looking from his clipboard, to the people in the room, and back again.

"Right here!" Nick half yelled, jumping out of his chair in his rush to hear any news.

The doctor's eyes widened slightly in surprise as Nick stopped less than a foot in front of him. "Um yes. I'm Doctor Rowland. I'llaI'll be with Mr. Sanders during his stay here. Aplease, would you mind moving back a little?"

Nick looked at him in confusion for a few seconds, before he realized just how close they actually were, and jumped back quickly. "Sorry about that."

Doctor Rowland smiled slightly. "Don't worry about it; just a little too close for comfort. Now, back to Mr. Sanders. He has down a Mr. Gilbert Grissom, and a Mr. Nicholas Stokes as his emergency contacts. Am I addressing either of them?"

Nick nodded dumbly, when had he become one of Greg's contacts?

Grissom moved forward when he realized that words had become alien to the Texan. "I'm Gil Grissom, and this is Nick Stokes. And please, anything that is said, can be shared with everyone here."

Rowland seemed wary at first, but slowly nodded. "Mr. Sanders-"

"Greg," Nick suddenly interrupted, "It's Greg. He doesn't like being called that."

Doctor Rowland looked at the man for a minute; the young CSI seemed to be in a slight state of shock, which was understandable in this type of situation. He glanced around at the others, and saw that they too seemed to be in the same state, but not as deeply as Mr. Stokes.

"Greg," he corrected, "Has just gotten out of surgery. He lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion. His skull was fractured, but we were able to take care of it. The ties on his wrists and ankles caused deep lacerations. We had to set both wrists, but they should be fine in a few days; and his right leg was placed in a cast because the tie had almost cut through to the bone. He has also been filed as slightly malnourished and dehydrated. We have him on fluids, and his condition has stabilized. We'll need to keep him here for a few days to obverse his stats, but I see no reason for him to stay any longer than the end of the week."

There was a gathered exhale as everyone sighed in relief.

"Can we see him?" Catherine asked.

Rowland nodded. "He's still drugged from the operation, but he should be awake within the hour. Just do not crowd him too much, he needs to understand his surroundings now that he is safe."

Grissom nodded and the doctor walked down the hall, leaving the five CSI's to themselves.

Warrick immediately snapped out of his stupor. "Let's go." He started toward the doors, but stopped when he realized Nick wasn't following. "Come on Bud, let's go see him."

Nick shook his head, then nodded. "Yeah, I'm comin." He quickly walked through the doors of the ward, closely followed by the others."

---------------------

Darkness. Nothing at all in the pitch black. A slight movement, and the black was replaced with white bursts filled with pain.

Greg whimpered quietly as he tried to roll over, but his half conscious mind was fogged with pain every time he moved his arms or legs. The ground beneath him seemed to be moving, and the rough bouncing wasn't helping him any. He tried to straighten out his stiff muscles, but the small space didn't allow any movement.

Everything suddenly came to an abrupt halt, and the darkness was replaced by a burst of light.

'Artificial light. A flood light.' Greg's barely coherent mind kicked into CSI mode long enough to realize that much.

He was roughly grabbed and lifted from his uncomfortably cramped prison. It was short lived, however, as he was just as precariously thrown into another prison, this one much harder against his sore back, but thankfully long enough for him to stretch out. The last thing Greg remembered was a quiet voice.

"Nighty night, Mr. Sanders. You're the last one."

And the light was gone with a slam of a lid and he was plunged back into darkness.

"No!"

-------------------------

Nick opened the door to Greg's room just in time to see his friend thrashing wildly on the bed. Lost deep in his subconscious with a nightmare that had a strong grip on the young male's mind.

"Greg!"

"No!" Greg snapped up in bed, breathing rapidly and shaking uncontrollably. His skin had paled and beads of sweat were trailing down his slim body.

"Greg! Don't worry, you're okay. It was just a nightmare." Nick coaxed his delirious friend back into bed, the younger male's eyes snapping in every direction.

"Greg?" Sara said quietly as she approached the bed, "Greg? Are you all right?"

Greg's breathing slowed slightly and he looked up at the ceiling. "I was... I was in the trunk of a car and then... then thrown into the box. Oh my God, please tell me that didn't really happen! Please tell me I'm here cuz I blew something up in the lab. Please."

"Oh Greg," Catherine whispered as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Greg into an embrace.

Greg immediately clung to her and sobbed into her shoulder. "Catherine. Please, don't leave me. I don't wanna be alone."

Everyone else was dead quiet as they listened to their frightened friend's cries. Catherine looked over her shoulder after a minute. "Hey, why don't you guys go grab us some coffee while I calm him down."

The others nodded sullenly, slowly leaving the room. Warrick had to turn back around and lead a shell shocked Nick out the door.

Catherine looked back to the trembling figure in her lap. "Greg? Greggo, don't worry, I'm not leaving. Come on, you need to lie back down and rest your head."

Greg ever so slowly loosened his grip and Catherine helped him lie down, tucking the blanket in around him. She slowly made her way from the bed to a nearby chair, careful to make sure she stayed within Greg's eyesight the whole time. As soon as she was seated, she was surprised to see Greg shift and turn onto his side, facing toward her.

"Sorry", he gave a sheepish smile, "My backs still a little sore."

Catherine smiled slightly in return, but she knew that wasn't the full reason he had turned.

"What time is it?" Greg croaked tiredly.

Catherine made a grim face, "Late." It was the only answer she gave him.

There was another pause, a short uncomfortable moment of silence. Then he spoke up again. "How long have you been here?"

"A while." She said, ending a sense of deja vu through her.

Greg lying on his side in a hospital bed, asking her the same two questions. It brought back the memories of the lab explosion so long ago, but it was all still very fresh in her mind. Seeing Greg like this again brought up the motherly instincts she felt toward the male. The wacky, fun-loving son she never had.

"The docs wouldn't let us in for a while; they wanted you to sleep."

Greg chuckled quietly, "I did enough of that the past few hours, I want to stay up for a while."

Catherine shook her head. "Not too long, Greg. You need to rest, you're going to be dizzy for a while until that head wound heals."

Greg smiled sadly and fell quiet.

Catherine felt uneasy as she looked down at her hands, wringing them tightly in her lap.

"Thanks for finding me."

Catherine's eyes snapped up to Greg, watching as his smile faltered a little more. He was trying to hide the fear he felt deep inside of him, but Catherine could see it. The fear of being injured and buried under a few feet of dirt. Then hearing your friends standing just above you, but not being able to reach them until after you had run out of the air that kept you alive.

"Oh Greg," Catherine whispered, her eyes watering slightly as she reached out and held his hand, careful to avoid his casted wrist. "You are a very dear friend to all of us! We never meant for anything to happen to you. You were very strong throughout the whole thing; I'm very proud of you."

Greg's smile slowly turned into a real one as he looked at the woman next to him. "Thanks."

The door slowly opened and a nurse stuck her head in. "I'm very sorry to interrupt, but I need to give Mr. Sanders his next injection."

Greg visibly shuttered at the word, and Catherine couldn't help but laugh. The young tech had always worked around needles and other medical utensils, but he still had that fear of having them stuck into his own body.

The nurse pulled out a needle and injected it into Greg's IV. She watched in slight amusement as her young patient's eyes snapped shut when she pressed down the plunger. "All done. Now, just take it easy for a while, okay?"

Greg nodded slowly, eyes still squeezed tightly shut.

Catherine chuckled quietly as the nurse left. "I will never understand you and needles Greg; you're just fine when they're in your hand, but you don't trust anyone else when they are in control of em."

Greg chuckled slightly as he opened his eyes again. "The key word in there is 'control' Cath. I feel the power when I am in charge of the needle, but all the courage runs and hides when it isn't my hand that the needle is in."

Catherine laughed slightly and stood up slowly. "I'm going to tell the others that they can come in. Be right back, okay?"

Greg hadn't answered by the time she reached the door, so she turned back around. "Greg?"

The young male's only reply was a terrible tremor throughout his body as his breaths became quick and wheezy.

"Greg!" Catherine ran over to the other side of the bed again.

Greg's eyes were wide as he stared blankly at the wall, his breaths no longer feeding his lungs.

"Oh my God!" Catherine reached up and slammed the emergency call button over the bed. "Hold on Greg! Help is -"

The door burst open as Doctor Rowland and the nurse from before ran in. Rowland immediately ran over to the bed. "Get her out of here!"

Catherine was immediately whisked from the room and the curtains were thrown closed. The last thing she saw was Greg's pale face as he was laid flat on the bed. Then all she saw was the white blinds.

"Greg!"

XxX

Grissom, Warrick, Sara, and Nick all turned the corner just in time to see a hysterical Catherine being thrown out of Greg's room, then immediately stagger to look into the window.

"Greg!"

"Catherine!" Nick yelled as they ran to her. "What happened! What's wrong with Greg!"

"I-I dunno! H-he was just fine when I was t-talking to him! Then the nurse came in and gave him another injection, and... and he suddenly became pale and started wheezing! Oh my God, what's happening!"

Sara pulled her into a tight embrace as she fell to the ground in hysterics. Warrick, Grissom, and Nick were all standing in paralyzed shock at the closed curtains, unable to move at all.

After what felt like an eternity, the door finally opened. Everyone looked up to see Doctor Rowland step out, leading the nurse who was crying openly and repeating one thing over and over. "I'm sorry. Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"

CHAPTER 13

Everyone's eyes grew wide.

"No," Warrick said quietly, "No, he's not gone."

Nick walked straight up to the doctor, both fear and anger in his eyes. "What happened! Catherine said he was fine until the nurse pumped him full of something! Did she poison him! If she did, I'll-"

"Please," Rowland interrupted. "Please, let me explain. My nurse here did exactly as she was told and gave Mr.-Greg the proper medication. But what we weren't aware of, was by mixing it with the medication already in the IV, the mixture set off a strong allergic reaction which caused Greg's throat to involuntarily close up. We were able to reverse the effect, but the damage was done. Greg's throat was torn slightly and he won't be able to speak or eat very well for a while. He will be on a ventilator for a little while."

Every CSI took a sharp breath. Why were all of these things happening?

"You may go see him now," Rowland finished, "But he won't awaken for a while." Then he led the nurse away, who continued to whisper. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Everything was dead still as the CSI's stood frozen. Grissom's gaze was still locked on the door, but it slowly moved down to his sides. His hands were now in tight white fists and were trembling violently. 'How did everything go so terribly wrong in less than 12 hours? All of this death and despair over a closed case over two years old, just because five people did their jobs to help make this city a little bit safer.' "Let's go in."

Everyone snapped out of their shell shock and quietly followed their supervisor into the room.

XxX

The still silence that had once filled the small room, had now been replaced with the monotonous beeping of several machines.

The figure in the bed had also seemed to change since the door had last opened. Greg was again lying flat on his back. His skin had changed to a pasty white, an almost sickly gray tinge along the edges of his face. His breathing had slowed from his desperate gasps for air, but the fact was only this because of the machine forcing the steady air flow into his lungs. The IV bag had been replaced by another, pure one as well.

Catherine slowly shook her head, a hand unknowingly covering her mouth. "How could this all have happened? Gill, what's going to happen next?"

Grissom shook his head slowly. For the first time in a long while (if not ever) he didn't have all the answers. "He-he'll probably need to stay with someone, or someone stay with him, for awhile. At least until his casts are removed. He'll need help with everyday things, like walking and eating, until he regains the strength to do it on his own."

"He can stay with me!" Both Nick and Catherine stated immediately. They had the visible signs of the need to help Greg, both believing they could have stopped this from happening somehow.

Catherine sighed quietly, her emotions building up inside her. "He can stay with Nicky; he'd probably feel better staying with another guy. As long as it's what Greg wants, and I can come and help too."

This last part was said directly toward Nick. He could see the emotions flying through the older female's eyes; the pain of being there, but unable to help when Greg was kidnapped. And the fear they had all shared through everything that had happened up to this point.

Nick nodded. "Yes, Greg needs us all right now. And, thanks."

Catherine smiled slightly, a gesture that slowly passed to each of the conscious CSI's in turn.

After another few minutes, Grissom looked up again. His gaze went over each of the four CSI's before slowly falling on Greg. They were all completely worn out, and had been through a lot. "We should-uh-get back to the lab and close this case. It would be best to put it all behind us, especially for Greg."

"I'm not leaving," Catherine said, sitting in the seat next to the bed. "I promised Greg I wouldn't leave, and I'm not breaking that promise." Her mind was made up, and everyone knew that meant her decision was final.

"I'll stay here with her," Nick assured, pulling over another chair from the corner of the room.

Grissom nodded before leading Sara and Warrick out, both of whom took one last look throughout the room, then slowly followed.

Catherine and Nick both sat back and waited, anxious (and maybe a little desperate) for their friend to open his eyes.

CHAPTER 14

Light. A bright, blinding white light. The brighter it got, the more he had to fight for his breath. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get enough air.

Then, he was suddenly plunged into darkness. With the black, also came a rush of cool air barreling into his starved lungs.

But almost as soon as it was gone, the light was back; and along with the light, came the fears and nightmares.

Greg's eyes snapped open and he sat up bolt straight in bed, noticing too late as he smacked foreheads with an unaware Nick.

"Ow!"

"Oo, that's gonna leave a bruise," Catherine said quietly, putting a hand to her own forehead.

Greg fell back with a stifled yelp, while Nick sat on the edge of the bed, nursing his own bump.

"Greg?" Catherine asked quietly, leaning forward in her chair, "Are you okay? You've been thrashing around for awhile now."

Greg's wheezing breaths slowed eventually and he nodded, lying on the bed but immediately turning onto his side.

Nick raised a brow at this. 'He's afraid to lie on his back. It still brings up the memories.' He leaned forward again. "Greggo? You had an allergic reaction to your medication. The docs were able ta fix it, but not before your throat closed up. You'll have trouble talking for awhile. They said you should stay with someone for a lil while, till you're back to health. Would ya mind stayin with me?"

Greg didn't move at first, but then to Nick and Catherine's surprise, he nodded.

"What? You don't wanna stay with me?" Nick felt very put out by the simple gesture, but Greg quickly shook his head, this time in a sort of impatient way.

Catherine grabbed a nearby newspaper and pen, and handed them to Greg.

Writing in the margins, Greg gave the paper back.

I want to go home. Can we go there instead?

Nick slowly sighed in relief. Greg did want to stay with him. "Of course we can Greg. Anything you want."

Greg smiled happily before he slowly closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.

Catherine and Nick both smiled.

"Hey," Catherine said sadly after awhile. "I should head home for awhile. Lindsey's expecting me and Mother has been callin for awhile."

"Go, go." Nick insisted. "I'll stay here and watch him."

Catherine nodded slowly and stood. She smiled softly down at Greg and pulled the blanket back over him, before leaving quietly.

Nick sighed as he sand into his seat; he didn't plan to move for awhile.

XxX

Three days later found the entire team in Greg's room, helping him get ready to leave for home. Greg was still unable to speak more than a few words at a time before his throat would close up, but Doctor Rowland had given him medication for it, along with painkillers and others for his injuries.

Warrick had brought along fresh clothes for Greg, who changed into them while Sara and Catherine went to retrieve his belongings from the front desk. He had some difficulties with the cast on his leg and the sling that now held his right arm, but he was ready when the girls returned.

Greg's injuries had healed slightly over the past few days; the cast on his right arm was now placed in a sling to help keep it immobile, while his left cast had been replaced by thick gauze to cover the lacerations but still allow use of the arm. The head wound wasn't as bad, but too much quick movement left him very dizzy and nauseous.

He smiled as Nick placed a hand on his shoulder gently.

"You ready to go home?"

Greg's smile grew even wider as he nodded and followed the others out of the room.

Grissom stopped at the door and took one last look around the room. That's when he saw it; a small notebook with writing on it.

Grissom slowly walked over to the table and picked up the pad. Upon closer inspection, he saw Greg's neat handwriting, slightly slanted from the cast, across the page in what seemed to be a poem.

Deadly Nightmare Greg Sanders

He woke up, wondering where was here

When he figured it out, his heart stopped in fear

He cried out for help, hoping someone heard his plea

But no one was there, just he

An eerie silence met Grissom's ears

And a single phone call confirmed his fears

Greg Sanders was kidnapped, leaving no trace

And our favorite CSI's started a life saving race

How could there friend die this way

Or can the CSI's save the day

The mad man chuckled, enjoying this game

Feeling not one once of shame

Then the boss came in with a box, giving them hope for the night

But when he opened it, the CSI's hearts froze in fright

For in the box there was a picture with there friend that looked dead

With wires around his wrists, feet and blood dripping from his head

But, again there would be hope on this dreary night

as another thing came in boss man's sight

Grabbing the walkie talkie, he shouted the young man's name

And his heart stopped when a reply came

They chatted and hope was a live in each heart

But instantly the hope was torn apart

For the poor man lost the battle with the darkness

And slipped in unconscious bliss

Enemies became friends as they raced time

with only one thing on their mind

To save their friend

Before his life came to an end

Grissom went to the place from which Greg was taken

And he noted that this was planned, and he wasn't mistaken

Then Nick gave Grissom a call

While hurrying the hall

Archie had narrowed down where Greg might be

And the CSI's hearts rose with dreams of getting Greg free

They waited for Grissom and had a small break

After almost everyone left, a noise made Sara quake

"Nick" Greg's voice drifted into the silent room

Sara replied and chatted, and Sara suddenly felt a sense of loom

"I'm sorry, Sara, you guys were my best friends"

And that was how the transmission ends!

Hearing Sara's cries, they hurried back in

and found their friend's hope was near the end

"He said to tell everyone good-bye"

And they all knew he thought he would surely die

All of them rushed a ware house

And they found a body underground, but it's readings were cold

All their hearts constricted with fear

When suddenly Warrik shouted, " he's not here"

After everything calmed down and words stopped flying

They found out this was actually the place were Greg was lying

But he was removed before the CSIs arrived

So it would mean Greg, somewhere, had survived

Inside, they found an address to were they could find Greg

But only four could come, the rest must stay

So the boys rushed to the car, hoping to save there friend from dying

And to the SUV, Brass shouted, " Nick, I'm driving"

Poor Greggy, still trapped like a rat

So alone, confused and scared, I'll give you that

First he saw the light as the lid to his prison dissappeared

But, alas, only a bandage on the wound and back into the prison, I fear

Suddenly, something hit the lid causing Greg to jump

And, also causing his injured head to hit the top with a thump

"It wasn't hard to find all five of you

But you, I took a great interest in you"

"You have friends, unlike the others

I know several of your teammates treat you like a younger brother

who all almost praised your talents in the lab

But now, it's your turn to end up on the slab"

"Before you die, I want to know what goes on in your head

Why you jump into other people's lives when they're dead"

"You-you did all this. Killed all those people" Greg shouted. voice laced with pain

"Y-you'll be charged with the same crimes for this!" he said, tears falling like rain.

"Oh, you don't seem to get it Greggy I don't care.

I have nothing left, so I don't need to play fair."

A loud crash suddenly erupted from outside

But when he heard Nick's voice, he thought he had died

"Greg!" Nick shouted, " Nick!" Greg shouted back

And Greg swore he was so happy, he could have a heart attack

He felt his hopes soar

As Nick promised to open the box, No, Nick swore

Nick tried to lift off the top

And when it wouldn't budge, his heart nearly stopped

" Nick! GET ME OUT OF HERE" Greg was pleading

Suddenly, Greg started coughing, lungs starved of the air they were needing

Nick's heart nearly stopped, " Greg, calm down till I can get the key.

Are you alright, Bud? Greg? Can you hear me?"

When Greg answered, he turned to Chris

And the anger was ablaze in his eyes, a sure sign he was pissed

" Were is the key" Nick asked in a dangerous tone

Chris just smiled, pointed to a drawer and said, " You'll have to find it on your own."

And so the team rushed to look for the right key

To set poor Greggie free

Finally Grissom and Greg found a way to communicate

1 knock for no and 2 knocks for yes on the lid everyone was starting to hate

So, using this way to talk, Nick asked questions with Grissom and Warrick continued their search for the key

When Grissom stood up, showing, " I have it!" and unlocked the lock, setting it free

When suddenly...

THUMP

The CSI's turned to see Brass knocked down, landing on his rump

Chris stood holding up a gun

" Step away, I'm not even close to done"

" We'll not let you get away with this.."

But Chris' face turned red, and he was clearly pissed

"He has to pay!

Now get away!"

The three slowly stood

And Greg started shouting, as loud as he could

"Nick, open upGrissomCOUGHWarrick PLEASE!"

Warrick lunged for the lock, but something caused him to freeze

A bullet impacted itself near Warrick's hand

And he retracted it, stightening his stand

"I said no touching! Greg isn't getting out of here alive!"

When BANG! And Chris took a nose dive

Brass stood, an extra gun in hand

And Chris was shot, sending him to another land

As soon as the initial shock had lifted, Nick flung around and worked the lock off the case

Knowing all to well that there was no time to waste

Finally the 3 men lifted the lid

to see what horrors it hid

Most of his wounds were still bleeding

But, scariest of them all was the young CSI wasn't breathing

Finally, they got Greg to breath again

And Nick laughed, glad that Greg didn't give in

Finally, paramedics arrived to take him to safety

But first, they had to cut his wrists and ankles free

Slowly, Grissom lifted Greg's wrists, causing pain to shoot up is arm

But Griss held on tight as Nick cut him free knowing if he didn't, it would cause Greg more harm

Finally, the cuts were.. cut off and Greg was whisked away

Nick and Warrick came also, but Grissom chose to stay

" Our nightmare is over.." Brass said

" But Greg's nightmare has just started," Grissom said, shaking his head

Meanwhile in the ambulance, Greg noticed Warrick's hand

"You're hurt," and at first, Warrick didn't understand

Then he noticed where the wood had struck his hand, " It's okay"

And Greg smiled a small smile, but the first of the day

" Were you guys all worried about me?"

But when he asked, the answer was on there face, clear to see

Finally, after a day buried under ground

And dragged around town

And locked in a box with a lock

And having his friends race the clock

He knew that he would of not made it without his friends

And knew without them, he would of had an untimely end

So he was forever grateful to the people who set him free

His friends, his fellow workers...His family

XxX

Grissom smiled slowly; when had Greg become a poet? He held the notebook close as he walked across the room and out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

THE END.