Title: And the Thunder Rolls
By: duffshel
Pairing: Nick/Warrick
Rated: PG-13
Timeline: Season 6, sometime after "Still Life" (no direct episode spoilers, but plenty of references)
Disclaimer: This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue. Don't own anything with the song either. All rights belong to Garth Brooks and Pat Alger. Just using it for some inspiration and chapter titles.
Summary: Dead body. Bad weather. One hell of a night.

***

Prologue: There's a storm moving in...

The wood was soft against Kayla Bicker's tongue. It was the one thing about playing the clarinet that she hated most. Nothing worst that that fresh taste of a new reed. It never failed to make her gag. But, of course, there was no way to drop the instrument. Her mother would kill her.

A soft clicking filled the practice room from above. The large, white faced clock ticked off the seconds. This was one of the few rooms left in the school without a digital clock installed. It was deemed unnecessary for the band room to have anything modern. Soon, no music would be made in these brick walls again. Money was needed elsewhere in the school. Music had to go. Footballs needed to be purchased for the next season.

Kayla was ready to get this new rehearsal going. Her boyfriend was going to pick her up after this thing and she only hoped he would want some action. Being sixteen left her to the rules of peer pressure and hormones. And her seventeen year old boyfriend, well, he was purely a male.

With a soft slap, the wood of the two inch reed met the plastic of the mouthpiece. The clip screwed tight and the reed was in place. Her thin fingers danced quickly over the middle pieces of the finger holes. With a sigh, Kayla placed the mouth piece in her mouth, bottom lip secured over her bottom teeth.

The middle range C note rang through the room with a blast of controlled air. She kept her eyes fastened on the needle of the tuner. It proved her note had been flat. Another deep breath, another exhale. The corners of her lips pulled in slightly in an attempt to rectify the tone. The needle moved closer to being straight upward on the dial.

Sound came from behind her and Kayla turned on her folding chair. Several other band members were wafting slowing into the room. No one wanted to stay after school today for this. They were all ready for the concert even if the director didn't agree with them. Two of the girls waved before they made their way over to their saxophone cases.

Kayla turned back to her music stand and the tuner. A trumpet blast sounded so she waited to test her instrument again. Snaps and thuds from other instruments from other people. She could hear the door open again to allow more people into the room. Soon the director would arrive through the door to the right of the board in the front of the room.

It wasn't odd to hear sounds of metal and wood moving all around her. Kayla tried to block out all the disruptions and focus on her playing that one note in tune. Her director always made them go around the room before they begin to make sure they were all in tune. She always had trouble getting right into tune. The older teacher always singled her out during that time.

Not this time though. She would have her clarinet all warmed up and ready to go for the practice to begin in four minutes according to that clicking clock. Another solid note escaped the black wooden horn the settled down around her knees. The tuner needle was happier with this note. It only rested slightly to the left now. Kayla adjusted the wood and plastic in her mouth for another try.

Her teeth rested softly against the rubber padding on the top of the plastic mouth piece. Her cheeks pulled inward as her lips pinched. Kayla forced her back to straighten even more. A deep breath through the mouth and she blew a solid note. The needle was pointing straight up. There was no shifting. She let the note die with a smile.

The gun shot registered completely sharp.

***

#1: Raindrops on the windshield...

"Expect forceful winds, heavy rain. This sudden storm system is expected to stay over the Vegas area for at least another hour. Stay inside if you can. Watch out for sudden flash floods if you are forced to leave the house for any reason. And stay tuned, we have sport scores coming up with..."

Greg Sanders tuned out the feminine voice that washed out from the radio speakers situated behind his head. His right hand unconsciously gripped at the cloth seatbelt that held his body flat against the cushion behind him. The landscape just beyond the slightly foggy glass pulled his full attention outward.

The few trees that could be seen were fighting hard against the wind that seemed completely determined to rip them out by the roots. Several small sand storms were swirling around, dancing over the highway between and over passing vehicles. The sky was doing a fine job of threatening for the heavy rain the sweet voice predicted over the radio.

Being a desert, the rains were rare, but when they did occur, they could be dangerous. Greg could still remember the 100 year flood that had struck back in 1998. Several casinos along the strip reported sever flooding from the reported 3.19 inches of rain. Two people were killed and the area quickly declared to be a disaster area in order to receive federal aid.

The newest CSI had no desire to see that again anytime soon. There would be a lot of work as it was. All the crazy people crawled out of the woodwork during a rain like worms from the mud. Plenty of crimes would be committed anyways.

He brushed an errant strand of hair from his forehead. The dampness in the air was winning the battle against the gels and sprays.

A large oil semi barreled past the Tahoe, causing Warrick Brown to tighten his grip on the leather of the wheel. The SUV moved slightly beyond the yellow line on the right side for a moment, but with a curse, Warrick got the few tons of steel centered back over the pavement with a few muffled curses. It mattered little because they were soon victims to a strong blast from the right of one of the small sand storms.

Greg pressed his feet harder into the carpet of the floor and gulped, "Hey, Warrick. Umm, we almost there?"

"Geez man, just sit back and shut up. Next time you can drive if you really need to get there so damn quickly," Warrick ground out around his clenched teeth.

"No need to get all huffy. Just asking."

Warrick thought quickly and kept his response to himself. Instead, he took a moment to take his eyes from the road and focus on the third man in the car. It seemed odd to the taller man that he had heard nothing from the Texan yet on this little outing.

Nick Stokes kept his full attention to the world outside their small metal container. Without seeming to realize it completely, his left hand rested over the cool glass of the window, only the fingertips making any contact. His brown eyes darted around from sky to ground. This was similar to storms he had witnessed when he was a kid at his parent's ranch. Some of them had gotten rather violent.

"Nick?"

The calling of his name broke through the swirling thoughts. He turned slightly against the seat belt hugging his chest to look at the concerned green eyes, "What?"

"Dude, you with us? I called your name like...four times, bro."

"Sorry, thinking."

Greg snorted in the back seat, "Thought I smelt something burning."

Nick smiled and looked back out the window, "What ya need, man?"

"Just that you talked to Jim when he called. Forget the address already?"

"You wish. Avenue G, over by Ninth Street. Shouldn't be able to miss that blue Magnum even if we tried."

Warrick smiled as he tried to mentally plan out their route. Boulder City wasn't unknown to him, but the streets were not solid in his mind. A flash of lightening off to his left focused his mind back to the quickly disappearing highway. He could see the light line of the small Las Vegas neighbor. It almost looked a group of dancing stars against the dark, cloudy sky.

All three men were quiet once again as they entered city limits. No one was outside and the streets were bare of moving vehicles. People seemed to be taking the advice of the meteorologists and weather people by staying home for the rest of the day. It seemed slightly odd to Nick that a town such as this one would be virtually deserted at four o'clock in the afternoon.

The Tahoe maneuvered the streets fairly well against the wind and soon they worked their way through streets and neighborhoods. Several police cars helped them to find the elect high school fairly easy. Warrick eased the large SUV to a stop next to Brass' Magnum sedan. The detective was no where to be seen.

Greg was the first one to touch his feet to the gray cement. He turned back and reached for his fully stocked kit. The last case had given him enough slack about not having his kit completely full before a case. Not this time. He was completely prepared. Wasn't his fault though that he didn't have a damn poncho.

One door slammed shut as another opened. Nick moved slowly from his seat, legs stretching out first before moving to hold his weight. The air was humid and seemed to almost crackle around him. Small hairs on the back on his neck stood tall like soldiers readying for battle. About six steps brought him to the back of the SUV where Warrick was waiting for him.

Both men had stowed their kits in the back. Nick didn't bother looking at his partner as he reached in and grabbed up his stuff. The tension was still present. It was clear, but neither made a move to comment. When this was over, Warrick would make sure any shit between them was solved. No more moments like these. When this was all over.

Once they were all loaded up, Warrick led the way up the sidewalk towards the entrance to the school. Boulder City had a reliable police department, but often they called in the Vegas CSI team to help out with trouble cases. This was one such case. Plenty of people in the room, but no one saw a thing.

Officer Andrew Kehls had joined Brass on this little journey and stood guard at the main entrance. He saw the three men make their way over to him and felt the grin slip onto his lips. They had all been through a lot together over the past years and Andrew considered them to be all friends. His only regret, he hadn't been the officer on the scene for those dog entrails. Instead, he had been in bed sleeping for a rare day off. No matter what was said, he would always regret that one.

"Hey guys."

"Andy! You get stuck on this mess too?" Nick smiled and took the offered hand.

"You know it. Someone has to watch your asses."

Warrick smirked, "Just not too closely now. Married and all. Don't wanna have to explain that to the wife."

"Oh please, Tina loves me. She'd never hurt me."

"Well, she might if she feels threatened over her territory after all," Greg walked past them towards the doors.

"She wouldn't have to worry. Andy would never cheat on me."

"Never Nicky, never," Andrew slapped Nick on the shoulder as the CSI's walked away from him. Never would he have thought he would have such a relationship with them. Felt like he was back in high school with his football buddies.

The hallways of the school were small and silver. It wasn't a large high school. It was a private outreach for those who tested out of the average courses set up at the Boulder City High School. Here, college courses were offered, advancement a standard. But it was still considered part of the school district and the students were able to participate in other programs offered. Nick would have never been able to go here. Hell, he felt stupid simply by the presence of the lockers.

A police officer stood inside with his back leaning against a closed door. Greg didn't recognize him and a closer look at his uniform proved him to be with Boulder department. He watched Warrick walk up to him with a flash of the badge.

"Which way to the scene?"

The man yawned, completely bored, "You want to take this hallway straight down. Last door on the left."

Greg frowned. Cops were usually more into a crime scene that this guy appeared to be. Well, under Brass' new watch, they had to be. It looked as if he didn't care if this was solved or not. He didn't have much more time to dwell on this issue since he didn't want to lose Nick or Warrick.

They both walked side by side, but anyone could see the canyon that had grown between them over the past week. Greg looked over both. He didn't know what had happened between them, but he would have never expected to see them grow apart like this. Not after what he had seen Warrick do when Nick was back above ground. Man would have scared off a hungry lion.

There was a great past between the two, not clear of fights, of course. But nothing ever wedged between them before quite with this much attitude. Greg couldn't help to be concerned. Neither Grissom nor Catherine was here to break up a fight if one were to occur. He knew he would never be able to do it. Squashed like a bug he would be.

There was another Boulder officer outside the door they were to enter. Not even a nod was given as the CSI's made their way inside. Nick took in the half circle of a room with the various folding chairs and music stands on different step levels. There was a black board stretched across the front of the room along with two wooden doors. To his right were several large shelving units with pieces of equipment through most.

Several instrument cases were open. A trumpet lay half in its case. Two saxophones rested against each other. People had left this room in a hurry. It was nothing more than a complete chaotic mess. But then again, bullets tend to do that.

Warrick moved forward, careful of his steps. He caught sight of Jim Brass towards the right side of the room, second step up. The area had been cleared to make room for the EMT. None were present any longer. Only David Phillips was present for any doctoring.

His green eyes took in the large room and he would bet good money that the acoustics in here were peach. With the shape and size, the band must have sounded awesome on a good day. A piano would fill the room with melody if given the chance. Too bad it was filled now with chatter from police radios and sullen faces.

Brass nodded in his direction when he caught sight of Warrick weaving his form through the musical mess. He was glad to see another familiar face in all of this. David was nice and all, but he just wasn't someone he could talk completely to about all of this. The field coroner would go back to his office of sterilization and tools. He would be done with all of this soon. Sterile tables waited for him.

"Hey Warrick."

"Jim. What we got?"

The older, beefier man flipped his small notebook open with a simple flick of a wrist, "D.B. is Kayla Bicker, age sixteen. She was here to attend an emergency band practice with the group. It appears that someone approached her from behind, shot once according to various statements at about 2:23 p.m. But no one saw a person with a gun. All the other students are currently across the hall. Staff and principal are next door. No one's allowed to leave until I talk with them."

"How many people total?" Nick asked as he stopped next to Warrick.

"Eight students, three teachers, two janitors, and one principal. All we need now is a pear tree...School lets out at 2:15 and this was the only after school activity for the day. Most head over to B.C. High for sports practices, if not home."

Warrick nodded and took another step forward. He could still only see the back of David. Lifting a folding chair with ease, he cleared a path to get closer. David nodded his hello.

The young girl was currently resting on her back, but Warrick was sure she was moved into that position. Her face was pale and void of any expression. A small pool of blood and vomit had pooled by her head. Blood seeped into her clothes from the back. In her right hand, a chunk of a disabled clarinet was held tightly.

"Anything Dave?"

"Primary C.O.D. is gun shot to back of the skull. Death immediate. Basic enough. Body temperature is roughly 96.2 which would fit the timeline. Paramedics moved her from a face down position to her back in order to perform C.P.R. I'll get her back to the lab for more."

Warrick nodded and looked up to find his partners. He noticed Nick hadn't move since he had and Greg was still up at the top of the room. With a small sigh, he stepped back over to Nick.

"We should split and take different areas of the room. No weapon in the area of the body."

Nick nodded, "Alright. You want to take here, I'll take the top, and Greg can go with Brass?"

"Sure. Sounds good," Warrick turned back to the detective, "Take Greg with you. Nick and I got in here."

The older man nodded, "Just got word from the sheriff. He wants his guys out of here and back at the station. Weather's getting worse. Except for the people in the two rooms, building's clear. I want to get them out of here soon."

"'Kay. I'll help get Dave on his way too."

Brass walked past Warrick and walked with Nick back to the top of the wide stairs. With a friendly push, Nick was sent on his way. "Greg, you're with me."

Greg hadn't heard any of the conversation from the other men and was surprised to hear this. He turned questioning eyes to Nick, but received nothing more than a sly smile. Those two would pay on the ride back. He would make sure of it.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The wheels on the gurney were not at their best. David fought with it through the side door to the room. He knew Warrick was waiting for him to hurry and he wasn't about to make the other man any more angry. Though, he couldn't figure out for the life of him why he thought the other man was angry to begin with. David shook his head and shoved. Rain pattered down across his shoulders.

His hand clutched at the body bad as he got the black padded table close to the step. David looked up at Warrick expectantly, "I'm going to need some help."

"Of course, boss," Warrick nodded and slapped his hands together. He was clear that they needed everything they could get off the body. There was no chance to risk anything with these cops that seemed bored out of their gourds.

It was quick and soon the soft sound of the zipper added to the harmony the room now held. There was a beat coming from Nick above and now the guitar solo added by the victim. Both men's grunts as they hefted the body up created classic vocals.

David tied the girl down and covered the black bag with a tarp, "It's starting to rain buckets out there. Have to be careful. See ya guys back at the lab."

Warrick watched the man disappear around brick before he walked forward. Sure enough, there was a good amount of rain hitting the pavement. Winds were still up and running strong. Sounded like dying wolves on the air. He grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut. Through the barrier he could still hear Mother Nature rue the day, but he had to get started on this mess created by human hands.

Now that the body had been moved, he had a clear shot at the entire area. The carpeting was scuffed up. The girl's chair had been moved, but the imprints told Warrick exactly where she had been sitting. His brain didn't even think as he began to form the picture and take the photos that would help tell it to the world.

With each flash, the dull click of the shutter fed more negative in to hold the devastating images. The metal was warm in his hands. Lenses were heavy. The bulb seemed to blind everything.

Warrick wiped at his cheek as he lowered the camera and looked around in a larger scale. Too many people had been through this area for too much time. There would be no way they would get anything solid off shoe prints. The carpeting wasn't made to hold in this, but to bounce off sounds. It was pointless to think about that.

The horn of the wooden clarinet lay on its side by the impressions of the music stand. It hadn't been disturbed in the madness. Warrick snapped on his latex gloves and reached for it. He didn't think there would be more prints other than Kayla's, but he was going to bag it anyways.

Several pieces of sheet music were scattered around. It was a large band horn piece. Warrick found the name of the composer, John Philip Sousa. He had played these back in his band days. They were always difficult, but sounded awesome in a concert hall. Nothing like loud trumpets and fast woodwinds to get the blood pumping.

He placed his camera down by his kit. With hands on his hips, Warrick tried to guess what had been moved from what position. Slowly and with precision, he began to place chairs and stands back where they should have been.

There wasn't a lot of room to move through the chair and the stands. Judging from the location of the victim's chair, she should have heard things being shifted behind her. No one would have a clear shot to stand right behind her to pull the trigger without making a huge racket. It was impossible.

Warrick sighed, 'Dammit!'

Shaking his head to clear it from any thoughts of discouragement, he bent down and rummaged through his bag. If someone did get through that mess, there had to be finger prints. Of course, this was a public band room, but there was a slim chance of a break.

The powder felt heavy, the brush thick. Somewhere down here there was clue. Something that would help solidify the bad guy. Warrick was going to find it.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

For not a large band, there were a lot of instruments. Nick grinned to himself and snapped his photos of the organized mess. He lined up the instruments by type and size. There were three trumpets, two saxophones, two flutes, and a tuba out of their cases. That was enough to cover the students across the hall. So far, things were looking up for his half of the room.

Nick walked over to the shelves and looked over the still encased instruments. There looked to be twenty two more members of this ensemble. Not large, but not a bad size. He could image the sound these high school kids could create.

His feet carried him around the upper level to the location directly behind where Warrick was standing with his camera in hand. It was like an obstacle course. Large, heavy percussion drums blocked the way to the nearest step from this angle. Nick crouched down to look at their bases. Nothing looked like it had been moved. There were no smears in the dust collection.

With a groan, he moved back over to the eight pieces he had lined up so nicely. Several looked to be new and in excellent condition. Only the tuba looked like it had the crap kicked out of it. But that wasn't what made Nick smile.

"Where there's a mouthpiece, there's saliva. Easy," he spoke to no one in particular. Just glad for something easy.

Nick never had time to join the band in high school, but he was always interested in it. He had gone to a lot of the concerts, heard the pep band play at the games. Seemed like fun. But grades and sports had to come first.

Carefully, Nick removed the wooden reeds from the saxophones and placed them in labeled bags. The brass instruments were all cold to the touch, but one of the two of the trumpets sloshed a little as he shook them. He reached into his kit and pulled out a jars. With a slight grimace, Nick emptied out the spit valve. He did the same with the other brass instruments. All the metal mouthpieces were bagged as well.

Looking around the room, Nick was suddenly aware of the fact him and Warrick had yet to speak to each other once Brass and Greg had left. Normally they would talk each other through the room and work in tandem with each other. Now it was like they shared a bedroom or something. Nick could almost see the line painted across the carpeting. 'You keep to your side and don't touch my stuff.'

"Hey Warrick, you find anything?"

The other CSI turned and shook his head, "Nah, nothing here. Getting all sorts of prints, but I doubt much of anything will come from it."

"Hmm, yeah, same here. Collected the mouthpieces. Should help in DNA."

Warrick nodded, but was cut off from responding from a large crashing noise out the door behind him. Slowly he turned to look. The door was still shut, but the sound of wind squeezing through finally reached his ears.

"Sounds rough out there."

The voice was too close. Warrick jumped and whipped around, "Shit man! What was that!"

Nick looked confused. His forehead crinkled into a deep frown. Brown eyes were full of concern and discomfort, "Nothing. Sorry. Didn't realize you weren't paying attention."

Warrick rubbed a heavy hand across his neck. Another crash resonated outside. With a quick glance on the Texan, Warrick walked to the door and pushed on the releasing bar.

The wind grabbed the door and threw it completely open. Rain washed down on the CSI as he moved to catch it. Lightening filled the sky with white light. Thunder shook the ground. The storm was making its presence completely known now.

Warrick finally was able to get the door shut and turned a wet face towards his partner, "Going to be hell driving back to Vegas."

Nick didn't respond. He didn't pull his eyes from the now closed door.

***

#2: Prayin' it's the weather...

Greg couldn't help, but to hop from one foot to the other. It had been awhile since he had been around so many high school students. It was kind of weird, and not in a good way. Something about these kids was off. He shook his head harshly.

'They just were in the same room as a murder. What do you expect Sanders!'

Brass had wanted to start in here first since these were the primary witnesses. He didn't want them to forget anything. Something about the youth attention span being worse than a jellyfish's now. Greg really hadn't been paying attention.

There were three girls and five boys. They were all huddled together in the corner. Some on chairs, others on the floor. None were talking. In fact, there wasn't a single sound coming from them other than the occasional sniffling.

All their belongings were piled up on the floor over by the left wall. There were backpacks, coats, and what looked to be the ugliest red purse Greg had ever seen. He took a step closer to Brass and lowered his voice, "Have they been searched? Their stuff?"

"One of the B.C.'s told me they did it. Same with the adults," Brass matched his tone as he took his own time to look over the pile. There was a lot of stuff, but kids always thought they needed more than what was completely necessary. His daughter had been the same way when she was still at home.

"Well, we should get started. Have to get them home sometime," Brass stated as he moved further into the room, "Okay. I'm Detective Jim Brass with the L.V.P.D. and this is CSI Sanders with the lab. We're going to be asking you questions about what happened today."

A tall boy with dark brown hair shook his head, "But we already told stuff to that other cop."

"That may be, but I have my own questions for you. Now, I just need you guys to calm down and think about this. Anything you can remember may help. And I would appreciate it if you cooperated with Greg here. He is going to be taking finger prints and examining your hands."

Several feet shuffled along the ground. Hands wrung the other. Teeth gnawed on cuticles. But no one said anything. Still only sniffles.

"First off, I need to know who we have here. Please state your name and age."

The tall boy rolled his eyes, "Derek Richards, 16."

Brass looked expectantly towards the small, blonde girl huddled up on her chair, "Susie Kenneth...17."

"Natalie Mueller, 15," the taller blonde stated from Susie's left.

The group of the remaining four males simply rattled off their names without looking up, "Kyle Peters, 17...Sam Abraham, 16...Kevin Nash, 17...Jack Christensen, 16."

"Amber Scott, 15," the red headed girl squirmed under Brass' intense stare and his waiting pen.

All this information was written quickly. Greg watched the group, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. They all looked like simply high schools students who didn't really understand what was happening. None would say it, but he was sure they all wanted to go home to their parents.

Without thinking too much more on it, he grabbed up his kit and set it on the nearest table. Greg nodded at Natalie. She winked and held out her hands. It was an odd reaction to have when you were about to be fingerprinted as a possible suspect in a murder.

"Good. Now, let's see if we can put a picture together. Let's start with our saxophone players."

Susie shifted, "That would be me and Amber. We hadn't been in the room all that long. Hadn't even really had any time to warm up or anything. Just happened, then we were all running from the room."

"Amber?" Brass asked as he looked right at the young girl's face.

"Yeah...I didn't know what happened. All I heard was a scream, then I was being pulled...I've never heard a gun shot before."

"Who pulled you? Anyone in this room?"

Simple shrug of the shoulders. Eyes darted towards the floor. Her shoes took over her sole attention now.

Greg took a deep breath and sighed. At this rate, there would be nothing to use. These kids didn't see a thing. None one had a face to go with the crime. Hell, no one had a t-shirt for that matter. He could tell Brass had the same feeling. Susie held her hands out and didn't pay any attention to the CSI as he did his tests. It was no time before he was turning towards Derek. No luck for gun residue.

"Alright, did any of you see someone with a gun? Someone standing behind Kayla? Did any of you even see Kayla?"

There was the shuffling of feet, glances at each other. No one jumped up with any information. They all looked completely scared. And the storm looked to be getting worse through the windows. World of gray matched the thoughts of gray in the room. Thunder rumbled, but it was ignored for the more important matters. Like that brown spot on the tiles.

"Anyone that didn't belong in the room? Someone that looked...off? Doing something weird, odd?"

Greg quickly grabbed up Amber's, Kyle's, and Sam's prints. The GSR test was negative so far on all the kids. There hands were clear of gun residue. Only two more to go.

"Where were the other members of the band? Seems there were a lot of people missing for a practice that was supposed to start very soon."

Derek sat up a little, "Waiting outside. Don't always want to get in too quickly. Only get yelled at more if you walk in too soon. We hang out outside the door until the last possible minute on most days."

"You went in early today. Why?"

The boy only shrugged, didn't say another word. Brass looked over the other kids, but none of them offered anything, again. Silence seemed to be the way they would go for all of this. 'Maybe if I took them to the mall they would suddenly be able to talk again.'

Brass rubbed at the back of his neck, face in full frown mode now. These kids were going to kill him at this rate. But none of them were showing signs of murder. Just a lot of that damn silence and hesitation. After all these years on the force, it was almost like a sixth sense. The detective checked over Greg and took note that he was finishing up with the last kid now.

"Okay, we're going to go over and talk with your teachers now. These cards," he flashed several yellow index cards, "Are to be filled out to the letter. Don't leave anything off. Once we are done talking with everyone and have all your information, you will be free to go."

Only silence was his answer. No one even glanced in his direction. But Greg got a couple of his own. Those kids must not have known what to make of the younger man. But the CSI didn't have any time to think about it any more. His arm was in a vice grip.

"Get the lead out kid. Have some more people to not have a conversation with."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick sat back on his heels and rubbed his palms over his eyes. They had both searched for anything and everything that might be relevant, but nothing was jumping out. He had collected good sources of DNA, but would need to get samples from everyone that was in the building for comparison. Though, it was most likely to turn out non-exciting. Lots of kids, lots of samples.

And the GSR that Warrick found on the plastic chair was consistent with the shooter standing behind the girl. Testing back at the lab, and the murder weapon, would prove how close the killer had actually stood to the victim. It wasn't anything unexpected. One wanted to find GSR in a shooting crime. They just wanted to really know how they moved through all those chairs and stands without alerting the girl.

"Looks like we got a bust in here. What ya say to going in and checking up with Greg?" Warrick questioned as he shuffled over to his partner.

"Might as well. I want to get back to the lab as soon as possible. Going to be a lot of work to do."

Warrick held up and rubbed at his forehead, "Where would you ditch the gun in a situation like this?"

"I dunno man. Nothing found anywhere in this room. I moved everything around up here, looked behind everything that I could."

"Yeah, the office doors were locked, dark. There has to be a weapon. I mean, damn, we got a gun wound."

"Think they still have it on them?" Nick looked up, lips twisted in question. This look made his dimples stand out a little. Nothing like when he was smiling, but it was enough to force them out.

"Nah, that would be suicide. 'Specially with Brass sniffing around."

"Lots of other rooms around. Think they threw it?"

Warrick sighed, "First Greg, then we'll all check around for it."

Nick nodded, but didn't say a word. His back was straight and tight in his restraint from blowing up at his partner. This was another blow off in the making. He knew his eyes told Warrick exactly what he didn't dare at this moment. They could argue in the car, again. 'Damn that man and his great ideas!'

Both men began to collect their supplies and replace them into their black kit bags. Nick stood and stretched his back. Something down by the victim's chair caught his eye. He squinted and shifted forward.

"You forgot your brush, man. Getting kinda sloppy."

Warrick shook his head, allowing for a small twitch in the sides of his lips, "Yeah well, go pick it for me. Help a guy out."

They laughed slightly, but Nick did as he was asked. The finger print brush rested on the floor close to the edge of the stair. Nick bent over and scooped it up. He was distracted from turning by another loud crash from outside the door.

Nick couldn't help the curiosity that swarmed up through his system. It sounded like the world was coming to an end outside that door. And like any normal person, he wanted to play witness to it.

"Hey, Nicky. Nick? What ya doing? Ya know it's storming, man."

The taller CSI watched the Texan walk slowly towards the door that led to the outside. His feet began to move his body forward without much thought. All he knew was Nick was walking towards something that was making his stomach twirl and churn. Nothing good could come from this. Nothing ever did when he got this feeling.

As he got closer to where Nick was reaching out to the door, the noises outside took on a new song. Everything had become a simple rumble. The walls almost seemed to shake with the sound. But Warrick knew there was no train around this area. So, it wasn't a train. 'It wasn't a train!'

"Nick..." his voice drifted off as he watched Nick push on the door's release. His feet rooted to the floor for a split moment.

He could hear his friend behind him, but the continuous grumble of the beast outside had much more a pull. The metal bar was cold under the flesh of his hand. It moved forward with ease. The entire door was ripped from his hand. But the impact against the brick was completely washed out by the intense storm right in front of his eyes.

Wind ripped in and lifted his shaggy hair. The whistling filled his ear drums. Chills ran up and down his spine like marathon runners. But it was the sight of things that took Nick's breath away.

The rain was moving almost completely horizontal. It seemed to scream to the ground. Large hail balls slammed into the ground along side the free water. Some looked to be the size of baseballs. They shattered on the cement just inches from here he was standing in the open doorway. Ice shards covered his boots.

It was completely gray, with slashes of white throughout the clouds. A hand touched his shoulder and Nick took his eyes away for a second to glance back at Warrick. The other man's mouth was slightly open as he took in the sight that had captivated Nick so completely. But the sudden panic and fear that forced those green eyes to widen got Nick to twirl his head around.

Lightening ripped across the sky almost continually. The streaks of grayish white were hypnotizing. The rumble now became a complete roar. It seemed to shake the entire world now. Clouds began to spin and swirl around each other. It was the tornado that dropped from the sky that took Nick's breath away.

From what Nick could make out of it, it was pretty wide. This wasn't one of those tiny ones that were in all the twister movies. It was hard to make out every part of it since it was just several gray shades on top of the other. But it was clear where the base struck with solid ground. The world was whipped up around it.

"Holy shit!"

"You can say that again," Nick nodded, eyes wide.

The two men were frozen in place. This was a rare sight in Nevada. Tornados were more prone to the Midwest or the Southern states. Nick had heard plenty of warning and sirens around his home in Dallas. But this was the first one he had ever seen.

So intent was their attention on the one, they completely missed the second one dropping only twenty feet from where they stood. This was even larger that the other one. And it was taking a fast direction, towards the school.

Warrick felt the air being wrestled from his lungs. Several trees were ripped up and thrown like they were simple twigs. It was the Ford truck that was picked up that scared him the most.

"Nick, we gotta move!" he shouted over the noise while grabbing hard onto Nick's shoulder.

At first, the Texan didn't understand, but he glanced off to his left, "Oh my god."

The truck spun in circle. It's hood spun almost fast enough after the tail gate that it almost seemed to run together. It was lifted higher into the air as the twister kicked up more sand as it moved. Nick could taste the sand on the air now. And feel his hair almost rising completely out of his skin.

Without thinking, Nick jumped out of Warrick's grasp and scrambled for the door. It was almost glued onto the brick wall. Two arms wrapped around his waist stopped his wrestle match with the immoveable object. The truck was coming right at them.

Warrick threw his body back and grabbed hard onto Nick's arm. His knuckles were white as he pulled the shorter man back with him. They reached the second tier of stairs when the truck slammed into the open doorway.

The force of the hit was enough to crack the bricks and shove the wall into the room. But the tornado was right behind it and helped push it into the room even more. And it was enough to send Warrick and Nick to their knees. Then to their faces.

Nick peeked under his arm that he had thrown over his head and saw the wall begin to give even more. It crumbled and bricks were spit inward. A larger body slammed into his to force him to move from his prone position. His feet scrambled for purchase on the carpet, fingers digging in. Nick didn't make it far. And from the grunt by his side, neither had Warrick.

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Moving across the hallway to the other room, Greg was taken back at how dark everything seemed to have gotten. Even with all the lights on, it seemed almost a yellow haze, it was so dim. But he didn't have time to think it over since he once again had to keep up with Brass. That seemed to be his main goal in everything with this case. Keep up and on top of it.

The detective was on a war path it seemed. He barely nodded at Andrew as he walked into the room, "Go watch the kids. We got in here. No one leaves. And make sure they are working on those cards."

Andrew nodded his head and walked out. Greg watched him go, but didn't say a word. He redirected his attention to the people in the room. They all looked pissed, and worried. Two of the women were sitting at the table on the far wall, full attention turned to the outside. The rapid lightening strikes lit up their faces with an eerie glow.

"Okay. I want to go home and I'm sure you all want to as well. Let's make this quick and painless. What did anyone see?"

A tall main with thinning brown hair stood and adjusted his suit, "I'm Principal Tom Stalling. I was in my office when I heard the screams. None one told me a thing and then next thing I knew, I was in here. But something happened in my school. And I want answers!"

"You and me both, buddy," Brass smirked a little, "But mine are a lot more important right now. Did anyone see someone leave the band room? Prior to the kids running out? Someone that shouldn't have been with the kids?"

One of the women looking out the window turned, "I was locking my class room door when they came running out. I'm the calculus teacher, my room is the door to the right of this one. The students were all screaming...no one, but the students."

"Anyone with a gun?"

The brown hair rustled as she shook her head, "No, just terrified children. What happened?"

"Did you know these kids?"

"Some. Had them for class."

"Any of them look off about anything?"

These adults quickly became like the kids across the hall. Faces became blank, eyes shut a little. Shoes and the floor in this room suddenly became their Disney World.

"The music director in here?" Brass looked over all the faces.

The other well dressed man raised his left hand slightly. His gray hair looked thin and limp. There were thick glasses perched on his nose, dark in color. His shoulders were hunched over, "I was preparing in in the other room. We have a concert coming up."

"So you didn't see any of the students?"

"Never do until right before rehearsal. I let them collect as they will. Then once it is time to begin, then they have to sit and listen," he dropped his head as he trailed off. This man had seen nothing about what occurred in his classroom.

Greg watched the other four people in the room, but none of them came forward with any information. They were more collected than the students, but not by much. From what the Boulder cops had said, none of these teachers had been in the room, only in the building. The janitors had begun cleaning for the day in the bathrooms in this area. It seemed unlikely that any of them would have shot the girl.

Brass turned back towards Greg, "Alright, we get their information as well."

Any further comments from the older man were cut off. The world around them dissolved into a steady rumble. Sand storms whipped harshly outside the window. Everyone turned to look outside. The window shattered and sent people to their knees.

***

#3: And the lightnin' strikes...

The entire world seemed to be a snow globe with glass that was way too constricting. Everything was in complete chaos. This is what must be the end of the world. Greg held his hands tightly over his head, knees tucked tight to his chest. His hands stung from the tiny cuts caused by the flying chunks of window. But it was his ears that were completely burning.

He kept his eyes tightly shut. All he remembered seeing was the windows shattering inward and the air outside them spinning faster than should have been allowed. As for the people in the room, no recollection of them at that moment. No, he didn't want to see anything else. If he lived through this, he didn't need the images for his nightmares.

Screams sounded all around him, human and natural. His body shriveled in closer, closer to bending in on itself. Something slammed into his shoulders. Greg whimpered in pain at the sudden jolt of new sensory input. This was not he was expecting from this case at all.

The roar got louder in his ear drums as the seconds ticked on. It almost seemed as if the wind was going to be able to lift him and carry him away. Something crumbled around him, on him. His skin was getting wet. This was enough to get Greg to open his eyes and peak out between his arms.

Brass was next to him, but covered with books and other debris, some of which looked to be leaves. He couldn't see any of the others from this viewpoint, but wasn't about to lift his head anymore to look. Twisting slightly, Greg looked to where he remembered the windows. The wall was beginning to come down. And quickly. Something violent and gray was throwing its full weight against the human made structure and completely winning. Rain whipped in with a vengeance.

Greg yelled out and reached for Brass. They had to get farther away from this. The detective didn't say a word and didn't fight the younger man. Greg scrambled on his knees towards the door to the hallway. He had to duck as a table flew over their heads. It shattered into pieces into the far wall. Someone was now pinned under its reduced mass.

"Greg! Move!" Brass yelled as best he could over the lion in the room.

"Trying!"

If there had been time, Greg would have rolled his eyes at the comment. 'What did the cop think he was trying to do? He couldn't do that and fight tables at the same time!'

It was only a few feet left to the wooden door though it might have well been the entire Sahara Desert. Greg pushed himself harder to reach it. Placing his hand against the grain to push himself up slightly, Greg could feel the door shaking against its lock and hinges. Brass didn't wait before reaching his own hand up and turning the knob after losing grip only once.

Both men fell hard into the hallway. Brass was the one to pull himself together quick enough to throw the door back. The dull click of the lock was nonexistent, but he knew it happened. It was a small barrier from the hell inside, but he was willing to put anything in the way of that storm and his person. And he was partial to Greg. Didn't want to lose the former lab rat quite yet.

The roar of the storm was still clear as day within the hallway. Gusts of air still rushed through the skinny corridor. The wind was working its way in through any orifice that was open enough for it to slip in. It threatened to follow them anywhere they headed. New shattering glass sounded from areas further down the hallway.

"Come on. We got to move!"

Greg barely got his feet underneath him as Brass ripped him upward by the collar of his shirt. His hand unconsciously rubbed at the water coating his face and hair. He realized quickly that they were heading to the band room door. The room was larger and didn't have any windows. They would be safe in there.

The door was shaking slightly, but neither man put any thought to it. Their friends were in the room. Brass reached for the handle and twisted it to open. But it wasn't swinging open on easy hinges. The cop frowned, "Well, what the hell!"

"What?"

"Damn thing won't open. Only safe room in the place and something's in the way."

Brass threw his weight against the wood. It was enough to dislodge the blockage. But Brass stopped before he moved even a foot into the room. Not that he had all that much choice against the wind pounding on them. The room was coming completely in on itself. This was not a safe place at all.

Greg's jaw dropped. The wall had completely rearranged itself with half of itself completely within the room. Music stands were on their sides on the floor, some without tops. The front end of a Ford truck was embedded in the rubble. Wind and rain still worked their way in. Things were still moving in this space.

But what made his heart stop, he couldn't see Nick or Warrick. There wasn't a single sign of either man in this mini-hell. Once again, he was jerked backwards by the collar of his shirt.

"There's nothing we can do right now. Get down, keep your head covered. When this passes, then we'll find them."

"Okay..." Greg felt numb.

He watched with fear in his eyes as Brass closed the door behind them. There were shouts and screams from the other side. Greg couldn't figure out which were real and which were in his head.

"Come on Greg. We have to stay alert. Let's go check on Andrew. That room didn't have any windows. It is in the middle of the school. They should be okay."

The younger man refrained from saying anything about how Brass had said that about the band room. And they had both seen how that one looked. And who they hadn't seen.

They both managed to get across the hallway. Greg looked down the hallway. Only their end looked to be affected by the storm outside. He only hoped it passed soon before anything more could happen.

'When will I learn to keep my mouth shut. Physical and mental,' Greg slapped his hand over his mouth to stop the shout of panic from emerging at the new aspect tossed at the two men.

Now they both came to realize what they were dealing with. The bottom of the tornado ripped its way straight across the school only about twenty feet from them. Now Greg was really sure he was going to be picked up and taken away to Kansas.

Brass didn't allow his feet to stop as he took in this new development. He lunged at Greg and body slammed him into the door they had been heading to. There was no struggle as the door opened and once again ended up on the tile.

"Jim! Greg!"

Andrew looked up at the entrance and bolted to his feet. He rushed over and dragged both over to the corner he had huddled in with the kids. The young cop threw himself back towards the door and closed it quickly. Without thinking too much about it, he pulled a table to help block it some more. None of the young students had moved from their crying physical cave-ins.

"Shit Andy, you guys okay?"

"What the hell is going on out there!" the young cop's eyes were wide in panic and concern as he looked over the two disheveled and drenched men. It sounded like explosions happening all around them in this closed off room. Andrew hadn't wanted to leave the kids so he stayed. Hoping no one was dead.

Brass didn't bother to say much, "Storm, tornado."

The kids whimpered and pulled in on themselves even more. Andrew's jaw attempted to work, but it only seemed to have the ability to open and close dumbly. Tornados in Vegas were rare beyond rare. He could only remember that funnel cloud back in the spring of 2001. People had seen it, but it hadn't touched down. This one obviously had more work to do than that other one.

Derek was the one to voice his opinion first, 'But...we don't have...those problems. Only ever really bad wind storms."

"Tornado ain't that far off, kid," Brass sat heavily on the floor with his back to the wall.

"Jim, where's Nick and Warrick?"

Greg shifted his body at the question. It hadn't even been directed at him, for which he was eternally grateful. His eyes burned with tears that threatened to fall for his two friends. If he had to say they might be dead, under tons of stone and a truck, he would lose and sob.

"Don't know. Band room is wrecked. Have to wait it out before we go looking for them."

Voices reduced themselves to whimpers and small cries. Sniffles could be just heard over the tormenting winds screeching outside the door. Greg rested his head on his knees and cried.

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Why are you doing this?

Trying to help ya, man. What is the big deal?

The big deal? The BIG deal! You don't get it do you man.

What I don't get is why you're throwing such a fit over this. Stupid if ya ask me.

So, not only insult me with this, but then you call me stupid.

Not what I meant, bro. And this was to help you out. It bothers me that your alone all the time.

But, I'm not alone. I thought I had friends, good ones.

Nick groaned at the dialogue taking place inside his head. It was loud and irritating, just like it had been when it had played out in real life. At least he could hit the stop button when he needed to now. Just had no control over play.

He forced his eyes open. At first, it wasn't clear if they were really open. It was dark, and damp. Nick tried to lift his hand to rub at them. But it wouldn't move. In fact nothing would move.

"What!" his voice croaked, and immediately bounced back at him. It vibrated through his mind. But it was drowned out by the panic that took hold of his entire being.

Nick tried pulled at his arms, but could only move them a tiny bit. Something harsh and heavy had one pinned to his left side, the other stretched out above his head. He turned his head to the side, only to be stopped before it moved more than a couple of inches. It was a trap.

His breathing got thicker and heavier. It hurt his chest, but he couldn't bring himself to calm down. Nick attempted to gain control of his legs. There was enough worst luck with those. He was trapped, without the glass.

"Warrick? Help!"

It wasn't clear where he was, but whatever he was in, it was holding in his screams very well. They echoed around him. Words were lost to him. Only screams of pure noise were sounded now. His body thrashed against his bonds. Nick didn't feel the blood beginning to run from the numerous cuts on his body.

"Help me!"

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The rumbling had stopped. Warrick sighed his relief at this. He had blacked out only once and was what seemed like forever ago. Since then, he had to sit and wait to see what happened.

His body ached. Bricks had landed hard on his entire frame. There was also something dull and round digging into his right hip. But it was the fact that he couldn't see anything that worried him the most. Well, that and the fact he had lost track of Nick in this whole mess.

Now that it seemed the storm was over, Warrick began to work on getting out of his current situation. The weight over his body wasn't significant, but it wasn't easy to work his way upward. Dust forced him to cough harshly. It burned his eyes.

But the clearer air called his name and he grunted his way up. A pull on his right leg slowed his process a bit. Something had his shoe pinned to the floor. He had to work without moving that limb. Warrick gasped once he was upright on his knees.

Coughing and rubbing at his eyes, Warrick looked around at the room he remembered sounding peach with the sound of a piano. This room would only hear the sounds of dump trucks and bulldozers from this point forward.

Everything was in complete shambles. Water ran through cracks of the collapsed wall, pooling all around the room. Turning around as best he could, Warrick could make out that damn truck. It looked like some abstract art structure. But it was the color of pale flesh he wanted to see.

Warrick scanned the entire area around him, but didn't see Nick anywhere. With a sigh of frustration, he looked down at the leg that he couldn't get to move. It was completely held by several blocks of brick and that dull thing, a music stand. His hands were scraped and bruised, but they worked well enough to remove the obstacles in his way of getting to his feet.

The ankle looked swollen. Warrick applied some pressure to the area. A hiss escaped as his eyes dropped shut. Trying again, he slowly rotated the joint. Nothing seemed to be broken, just pulled and strained. It would work.

"Okay Cowboy, where are ya?" His voice echoed around the now much smaller band room. Thinking quickly, he quickly remembered where he had last seen his friend and carefully made his way through the mess.

Ever step he reached down and called downward. The last thing he wanted to do was step on his best buddy. That was something he would never be able to apologize enough for. Not only to Nick, but to himself.

Finally, after four agonizing steps, he heard the first scream, "Nick! Nicky!"

It was just a pure scream of fear and pain. Warrick dropped to his knees as close to the sound as he dared. This was not supposed to happen. Nick was never supposed to be scared or hurt again. Not on his watch. He had failed once again. But now was not the time to pay attention to his own pain. Nick needed him.

A sharp edged rock ripped into his fingers, but the wet blood left behind did little to distract him. It was the twitching hand that brought the sob of relief out of his throat, "Oh god, Nick. Hold on. I'm coming."

The fingers wrapped tightly around his as he gave a squeeze to let Nick know he was coming. He could hear the screams more clearly, but couldn't make out what was being said. From the position of the hand, Warrick could tell he had to work away from him. Nick's head was close.

It was painful seconds until Warrick could see the panic in those chocolate brown eyes. Tears streamed downward from Nick's eyes, leaving trails through the red and brown dirt on the pale cheeks. But Warrick couldn't wait any longer. He had to get Nick free.

"I got ya man. You're okay. Just give me some time. Have to get you out. I got ya man."

But now that Nick could see something other than darkness, his first instinct was to get up and out. Warrick's voice washed over him, but it blended with the white noise his ears were filled with. There was tight pressure on his chest as he tried to throw himself upward, and free.

Warrick pressed his hand down onto the heaving chest. Nick was going to cause more damage to himself this way. The bricks were tight on the top of his torso. Some of his ribs had to be severely bruised, if not broken. But Nick wouldn't stop fighting him, his entrapment.

Shuffling around so he was closer to Nick's head, Warrick placed both of his own bloody hands around Nick's face, "Nick, look at me."

The free hand reached up and gripped Warrick's wrist hard, "Help me..."

"Trying man, but I need you to hold still. I'll get you out, I promise."

Nick took a deep, shuttering breath and nodded his head. The pain in his body was coming out more sharply now. Every tiny weight that Warrick removed from the top of his newest coffin, it shifted the rest around him. His left hip and upper leg hurt.

Warrick smiled once he got Nick's other hand free. The other CSI pulled it up to his chest and clamped both hands together. Both hands were cut up almost as must as Warrick's were. But it was what he uncovered as he went that made his breath catch in his chest. There was a fairly deep cut through Nick's jeans, right above his left hip.

"Okay. I'm going to work on getting your legs free."

'I can help," Nick strained as he lifted himself upward into a sitting position. From this new position, new pains ran through his back and his rib cage. He could now see the blood Warrick had been focused on.

Between the two men, Nick was free before much more time had passed. Warrick ran his hands up and down Nick's legs looking for any breaks. There didn't appear to be any, just a lot of swelling and pain. It was the rest of Nick that might be a problem. He sat back on his heels painfully as slapped at his eyes.

"You okay?"

Nick snorted at the question, "I cannot believe you just asked me that. Dummy."

They both broke down into chuckles as the stress of what just happened lifted. Nick was just so glad to be free that he couldn't get the grin off his face for very long. But he couldn't laugh as well as he felt he should be able to. Something had wrapped its way around his rips and was slowly getting tighter with every move he made.

"You think the storm is over?"

Warrick cleared his throat and nodded, "Has to be. Though there is still water running in through what was once the wall. Might just be raining now."

"Think Brass and Greg are okay?"

This was something Warrick hadn't thought about yet, "Shit, I dunno. I sure hope so. We could go looking for them. Feel up to it?"

"Just need a hand up."

Without too much trouble, both men were on their feet. Nick favoring his left side and ribs, Warrick his right leg. It was a sore sight they both made. The first couple of steps were painful and slow. Nick tripped with every step he took.

"I need to sit," he ground out through clenched teeth. Sweat was breaking out all around his face, veins popping out in his temple.

"Okay man. Just take it easy,"

Warrick left Nick to stand on his own for a second as he hobbled over to grab a folding chair he spotted. It would be better for Nick to sit down on that than all the back down to the ground. A moan sounded as Nick sat down. Warrick immediately ripped at the hem of his shirt to get a make-shift bandage. He pressed the piece of cloth to the blood that was still running from Nick's wound. It quickly absorbed blood, some also from his own hands.

"Well, you're an official mess once again Nicky."

"Not looking too much better, Mr. Suave."

"Yeah, yeah. Once we get this stopped, we're going to find the others."

Nick nodded and let his head fall forward. A headache was taking up home behind his eyes. His body screamed for rest. But they had to find the others.

"And we still have a case to solve."

***

#4: Another love grows cold...

The music wafting over the steel tables was the churning of the vibrating saw as it ate away at the skull bone in its path. There were tiny, miniscule fragments of aerosols breaking up, dancing under the florescent lights. The flat blue cloth kept the dangerous dust away from healthy, pink lungs. Pale skin vibrated and jiggled from its dead state. The body remained cold and that strange blue of deadly freeze.

Doc Albert Robbins pulled back and stood straight once the top of the head peeled itself almost completely away from its normal protecting spot over the precious brain matter, skin frayed around the cut. The blade spun slowly to a complete stop, red from the blood that still remained in the figure. He moved over to his rolling table and laid it over the blue cloth. The coroner took his time to remove the blade and place it in the waiting plastic bag so it could be documented for the case with the rest of the evidence.

Now, with precision, Doc Robbins picked up his skull chisel and gently wedged it between the lose bone and the remaining face. There was a squishing and squelching noise as the bone completely was removed from the meninges and the gray brain. The older man smiled behind his face mask as he removed the cut bone and placed it in a stainless steel bowl for later examination.

Using the x-raying machine stationed over the examining table, he could see where the bullet had lodged itself in the young girl's skull. It just wasn't a very easy place to get to from any ordinary methods. Robbins planned to work downward from the top of the brain towards where it was hiding behind the nasal passages. The shot had been downward, but the bullet angles even more when it entered the brain matter. Besides, the brain would have to come out at some point.

Turning back to his supplies table, the coroner gathered up his scalpel in his left hand, the forceps in his right hand. It is quick, but messy work. The bullet fragment was small as always. No matter how many of these he removed from bodies, Robbins could never get used to the fact that something so small could end so many lives.

As the bullet clinked in its own personal dish, the room doors swung open, emitting a frowning Gil Grissom, "Almost done?"

"Just got the bullet out. Wasn't easy. Had to remove the top of the skull to be able to work at it, the coroner moved slowly, speaking clearly as he always did.

"I'll make sure it gets up to Bobby."

"Have you heard from Nick or Warrick? The weather was getting rough out there."

Grissom rubbed his hands together as he thought out his answer, "I'm sure Jim has them staying at station in Boulder City. Would be pointless to endanger the case by driving back in this."

"I would be more worried about them then the evidence," Robbins moved to his papers, turning his back to the CSI, "But that's just me."

The girl's body didn't bother to make her comments known to the other occupants of the room. She remained as still and silent as always. Her hand was still wrapped tightly around the wooden chunk of clarinet. It was deemed unimportant in the hunt for the bullet. But it wouldn't be allowed into the coffin of choice made by her parents.

"But David was correct in all his work at the main crime scene. The gun wound is the only damage found on the body, cause of death. It immediately shut the body down; the heart was flooded with blood as it was rapidly shut down. I took photos of my progress, complete records for the file."

"No other marks on her?"

"Well, there is the bruising to her forehead which must have hit first on her final fall to the floor. I still have to extract the instrument piece from her hand, sure there are nail marks there. But no one touched her. Only the bullet."

Grissom nodded and raised his eyes to the other man's, "Let me know when you're completely finished. I'll come collect things for the box. Now, I have to go find Catherine."

Doc Robbins said nothing more as he watched the CSI leave the room, the door swinging on its hinges behind him. He turned his attention to the pretty girl whose life had been ended much too shortly. This was always tragic. Always a useless crime.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

He would never admit it, but he was completely worried about his missing team mates. The implication by the coroner was insulting. After the trials they had been put through over the years, he would never put a case in front of one of his own. He closed that personal case file last summer with the bloody pieces of flesh that had blown all over his person by a deluded father.

Grissom created his own storm as he walked the hallways of the lab. He needed to get the bullet to Bobby so that there would be something to match the gun the others would find at the school. Then, once they used the integration material the Brass would gather, they would have their case and put the bad guy away.

But for some reason, this thought didn't sit well in the entomologist's stomach.

A flash of blonde hair caught his attention from his thoughts. His feet gathered more speed and he quickly closed the distance between him and Catherine. The other CSI had her face turned downward, completely engrossed in some files she was carrying.

"Catherine."

The deep voice was enough to cause the woman to stop in place and look backwards, "What is it Gil? I have to get this finished so I can get out of here. Have to get to the Tangiers with Sam."

"I'll make it quick. Have you heard from Nick or Warrick? Greg? They were heading out to Boulder City for that 419 shooting. David made it back just fine, but that was awhile ago."

"No, but from what I caught on the weather channel, the storm is crazy towards the east. I'm sure they just got held up at the police station there. Phones probably messed up with the lightening. Hell, there was even talk about a tornado."

"I'll believe it if I see it. But they still should have tried to call."

Catherine smirked as she lowered the sheets of paper and looked at her friend, "I'm sure you'll tell them that as well. After all, you sound like their dad."

It was all Grissom could do, he harrumphed at the comment. Sure, he had gotten more emotional over the past couple of months, but he would never consider himself a father figure. He had hardly even known his own. There was no experience for him in this matter. It made his fidget and wish there was something else to think about.

"...the girl?" Catherine's voice floated at him, but he had missed most of it.

"What?"

The woman sighed and placed a hand on her hip, body tilting to the side a little, "I asked if you went and saw the girl? The one David brought in."

"Oh, yeah. Just coming from there. On my way to drop the bullet off with Bobby so he can get to work on identifying it."

"Don't let me stop you then. Remember, I have my own case to work on. And you have paperwork building up on your desk. You should try to take a look at that."

Grissom couldn't say another word as the woman walked off and left him in the middle of the hallway, mouth somewhat open. He never knew what to do when Catherine blew him off like that. If he had a wife, that would have happened most likely like that.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Andrew rested his head back against the wall behind him, eyes closed. His watch had told him numerous minutes had passed. His ears told him the bad part of the storm had moved past. The sound of rain hitting the roof was still clear. Along with the occasional rumble of a thunder clap.

But the beat of his heart was the bass for this new song, this new room. Gasping breaths, choked cries, and shuffling feet as added dimension. It was the ringing in his ears that caught his attention the most. This was something new to his brain.

Ungluing his eyes, he moved his head a little towards the side to take in his fellow crime fighters. Brass had a blank look to his eyes underneath his frown. The older man was determined to show that this didn't affect him, but Andrew knew better. Not having control over this was slowly driving him insane.

And for Greg, well, the kid was doing the best he could. His eyes were red and puffy from the slight crying session he had earlier. But it was the way he held his body together with his arms that showed how bad this was affecting him. Andrew could only hope that Nick and Warrick had pulled through this or Greg was going to seriously lose it.

With a huff of air, Andrew pulled himself to his feet and ran a hand through his hair, "I suppose we should go out there and take a look."

Greg twisted his head up to look Andrew in the eyes, "Think its safe?"

"As safe as its going to be. We need to check this out and figure out what we're going to do," Brass brought himself to standing as well, "Besides, I have two CSI's to yell at."

This was enough to cause Greg to smile. He nodded and stood next to Andrew. The three of them looked over at the kids. A couple were still tightly compacted together, but all the boys had spread out a little. It even looked as if Sam was taking a nap.

"What should we do with them?"

Brass said, "Leave them here. We'll cover more ground without them. When we know what's going on, we can get them."

Neither of the younger men argued, not that they had any time to do so. The detective had already starting pushing at the table barrier in order to get to the door. Andrew moved to help and it was quick work. With a quick glance, Brass opened to door to show the hallway outside.

Greg held his breath as he walked out behind the larger men. Bricks, stone, and strangely enough, an orange lawn chair. The hallway that had been demolished, looked just that. Walls had been crumpled under the weight of the ceiling. It was closed off in a pinch seal. They would have to look over it more later.

"Greg, take the band room. Find Nick and Warrick. Andy and I'll check the teachers over there."

The CSI nodded his head weakly and turned away from the other two so they wouldn't see the blood draining from his face. He really didn't want to find his two friends dead. Death didn't bother him until he knew the person. Then it was hell.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The door didn't want to open. Brass was getting really sick of it. Never before had he had so much trouble with doors. It took both men to force the slab of wood open so they could enter the room. But there wasn't much of a room to look into.

From what Brass remembered going on last in this space, the damage it now was showing was not what he expected. Like in the hallway, the ceiling was now touching the floor. An entire tree was resting up against the chalk board to their left. But it was the lack of human movement that made the two cops look at each other before taking anymore steps.

Andrew moved quickly over the fallen chair and doll head towards the still woman body lying under pieces of table. Carefully he moved chunks of wood and stone. The woman was dead. No more blood flowed from her wounds. Breath was no longer her friend.

He sat back on his heels and rested his elbows on his knees, hands hanging downward. Brass was standing over two male bodies. The older detective squatted down to check pulses.

"I got a live one."

Rushing over, without falling once, Andrew dropped down to look on the band director. The school principal had a large piece of glass piercing his throat. His grayish face told his tale. But the director was breathing, and still bleeding.

"I don't see anyone else," Andrew whispered to his superior.

"No, they're under that," He nodded towards the wall and ceiling, "Have to wait until others come to get to them. Can't be helped."

Sure enough, when Andrew looked closer, a human hand stuck out between two rocks. The ring finger was missing. The thumb rested back against the wrist. But there was no movement in the nerves, tendons. That person was dead as well.

It hurt to think they could be leaving other living souls trapped under that, but Brass was right. There was little the two of them could do and if someone was found, they would need more help than they could offer. Time was still there for those people if they could get help immediately.

"I wish there was still a window in here. I'd love to see outside."

Andrew nodded as he reached for the director's legs, "Then we'd know what the hell was going on out there."

"We'll have to find a way out soon. Let's get him out of here."

The two heaved the injured man from the room. Brass knew this wouldn't help the kids' fragile minds out any, but there was no where else safe to take him. They needed a semi clean room to put this man in if they had any hopes of keeping him alive.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick rubbed at his forehead, deeply wrinkled with a frown. The pounding dwarves behind his eyes were working with jack hammers now. Must not have had much luck with the pick axes to get within each neuron his brain contained.

The bleeding from the aching cut seemed to have slowed enough to get Warrick from hovering over him like a mother hen. His partner was trying to get the crumbs of dirt and dust from his short dreaded hair. It was kind of humorous event, despite the circumstances.

"Not gonna get it out now, bro. Have to wait and get Tina to wash it out for ya."

Warrick scowled at the Texan, "Shut up, man. She won't have to wash it for me."

"Oh no, but like you'll mind it one bit."

This statement did get a small grin on the taller man's lips. Any excuse to have his wife's hands in his hair was an excellent excuse. That woman could make his smile on any day of the week. Warrick almost wished she was here in this hell with him. Though, having his brother by his side was the next best thing.

"Gotta admit, that will be a nice thing to look forward to. Too bad you can't say the same."

Nick seemed to crumble under the weight of that sentence. The lighter mood that had been building up was now deflating. Voices, full of anger and hurt, jumbled through his brain. His own couldn't find its way out.

Just give it a shot.

I don't want to! There is no need for this.

Just want to help you out, bro. What's the big deal?

If you can't figure it out on your own, then what's the point of telling you? I mean, come on. Why can't you just leave it alone.

Because I can't!

Why?

'Cause you're my brother!

The other CSI could feel the shift around him as he took in Nick's dying smile. He put that shame and hurt in his friend. This was his fault. But now wasn't the time to fix it.

"Come on. We should get moving. Greg might have..."

"Greg might have figured you two would be sitting in her talking away like a couple of teenage girls," a voice interrupted.

Both men looked at to see Greg leaning against the doorway, a large smile on his face. The younger man almost seemed to prance into the room, his happiness sort of contagious. Nick couldn't help, but feel his grin grow again.

"Hey Greggo. We were wondering what happened to you. Where's Jim?"

"Well, while the two of you made yourselves scarce, we hunkered down with the kids. The two cops are now looking for anyone else who made it through this. By the way, what the hell actually happened?"

Warrick walked over and clamped a hand on Greg's shoulder, "Man, I haven't the foggiest idea. Shit just hit the fan. And well, Nicky of course decided to hit the floor. Can't take him anywhere, now can we!"

"Nope. Have to get a shorter leash for him. Maybe then he'll stay out of trouble long enough that someone might actually be able to see it."

"Oh ha, ha," Nick smiled broader despite himself, "You guys should take that act on the road."

The three men laughed a little. But the collapsed, desolate room soon brought them back to reality. They looked at each other, nodding at what they knew they had to do.

"Come on guys. We should get out of here," Warrick rubbed his neck, "Come on. Get your Texas ass up and moving."

Nick groaned as Warrick helped him to his feet. The wound pulled, his head pounded, and his stomach revolted. 'Going to have an excellent night. Can't wait to see what else can possibly happen.'

***

#5: On a sleepless night...

It was a long walk. A really long walk. Nick never would have thought that the other classroom could have been so far away. Whoever had built this school seriously needed to take a new look at his plans. And he'd have the opportunity to do so. The hallway needed some work.

His shoulder pulled where his arm was draped over Warrick. This action was a domino affect to his rib cage. At least none of those fragile bones appeared to be broken. But he wasn't going bowling anytime soon, that was for sure. His hands would most certainly protest that activity.

Greg led the way and the other two CSI's got their first look at the students who had been in the room with the dead girl. They were all still gathered together, but there wasn't one that looked like they were traumatized in the least. In fact, Warrick could see two of the guys had started a game of cards.

There was a chair lying on its side. Warrick pulled Nick closer to him and looked at Greg, "Hey, grab that chair and put it upright."

The long, thick hair shifted as Greg looked at Warrick confused. He didn't understand at first, but then taking one more look at the Texan, Greg dashed for it. After clearing out some of the mess around the area, Greg had the chair set and ready for Nick.

"Here, sit."

"Well, ya know when things are getting bad, when Greggo here can boss ya around," Nick grumbled as he was lowered into the chair. Neither man let him do any of the work. It was beyond frustrating.

"Just sit down and don't talk for a bit, man. Have to get this all figured out."

Warrick stood and placed his bloody hands on his lower back. Now that the adrenaline and shock of things was almost completely worn off, his body was beginning to protest any and all movements. His leg was twitchy and short pains shot up into his hip often. But there was no way he was saying a word to the others. There were more important things to worry about.

He looked over at the students once again. They had taken interest in the new arrivals, but were trying their hardest to avoid actually looking at the men. The girls had grouped closer, whispers running wild between them. Their eyes darted over at them quickly and with studying gazes. Warrick had never received looks like those when he had been in high school.

A sigh escaped from deep in his body. Greg had moved to stand behind Nick, his eyes starring straight at Warrick's face. As for the other CSI, Nick had his head leaned forward, brown eyes shut. It was clear the man was trying to fight off the pains that ran through his body.

"Okay, I'll go figure out where Andy and Jim are. We need to get everyone together so we know what to do next. Greg, come with me. Nick, stay here and try to relax a little."

Nick opened his eyes and glared at the taller man, "Stay here?"

"Yeah. You're injured. Just chill for a bit and let us get this worked out. Won't kill ya or anything."

"Oh, no. Of course not. Have to listen to the almighty Warrick after all," Nick's voice took on a strong sarcastic tone, accent thickening, as his eyes narrowed, "Nicky'll just sit here like a good ol' boy and do as Warrick says."

"Whatever, dude. We'll deal with this later."

Greg stood his ground and didn't say a word as the other two men faced off against each other. That scary tension from earlier was back and seemed to be taking a new tone. He started to roll his heels off the ground, ready to bolt if need be.

When Warrick nodded his head at him, he didn't bother to say a word. 'Just follow and no one will get hurt. Easier.'

But neither man made it far. Their exit was cut off by Brass and Andrew hauling an unconscious man from somewhere else in the school. It appeared to be a struggle for the two of them. Warrick jumped forward to help Brass out with the man's torso.

"Thanks," Brass huffed as they maneuvered into the room. The older detective barely noticed the wide eyes observing them. All he wanted to do was get this guy on the floor, somewhere out of his arms. He was getting heavier and heavier by the minute.

Greg immediately darted around, clearing the way for them. There was a table they could use, but it was on its side. With a deep breath and a grunt, the former lab rat managed to get it upright and ready for the others to place the injured man on it.

No sound was made from the director as his body was placed on his back. There was no movement from behind those closed eyelids. Blood still dripped from the lacerations on his face and torso. Now that he was flat on the table, it was clear his left leg was broken in more than one place.

"Shit, this guy's a complete mess. What're we going to do?" Warrick looked up at Brass once he took in the man on the table.

The older detective rubbed a shirt sleeve across his top lip, trying to collect the sweat pooling there, "Schools have first aid kits. We find one, fix him up. Get some help, find a way out."

"Simple."

The snorted response turned all heads and eyes towards Nick. He hadn't moved from his chair, but he had straightened his body up more so he could see what was going on. They were seriously screwed in this mess. It was beyond clear.

Andrew shook his head, dispelling all similar thoughts from his head and turned towards the kids, "Hey. Any of you know if the teachers keep kits in each of the rooms?"

It was Natalie that moved from the group, Susie moving with her. The two blondes moved together towards a cabinet that was stationed next to the teacher's desk. Susie leaned towards the other girl, voice in a hissing whisper. But none of the other people in the room could hear what had been said.

Warrick's eyes narrowed as he watched the two lithe bodies move forward. He couldn't figure out what they were trying to do. From what he had seen since they had walked into this room, none of those kids ever moved once. It was almost like they couldn't move at all.

Natalie reached forward with her left hand to grab the silver handle. The door swung open, but Greg couldn't see what was inside from his angle. But it wasn't long before Natalie produced a thick, white box from the depths of darkness.

"Here. I don't know what's in it, but they can use it for something, I guess."

The older men were shaken from their freeze and Andrew was the one to move forward to collect the aid. He nodded as he took it, taking in the fact that Susie seemed to be hiding completely behind Natalie. But there would be time to worry about that later.

"Thanks girls."

Andrew placed the box on the table by the director's leg, "Anyone know this guy's name?"

Long, black hair moved as Kevin lifted his head, "Mr. Kentwood."

"Hey Warrick," Brass mumbled under his breath as he ruffled through the aid kit, "Get Nicky fixed up too. Take a look at yourself. I want everyone looked at."

The tall CSI moved over next to the detective and took the gauze and tape thrust at him. He took a glance downward, but was sorely disappointed with this school's emergency procedures thus far. There was nothing more than some rolls of white gauze, some tape, scissors, and a couple Snoopy band-aids. That would help a dying man for sure.

Sighing, he turned around to face off against the glare he had felt piercing into the back of his head for a full ten seconds now. Nick did not look happy. Not at all. It wasn't Warrick's fault that he got hurt and now had to be worked on. This was not something the CSI was looking forward to having to do to his partner. Never was.

"Okay Greg. Gonna need your help, buddy. We need to get Nick upright. Then, I'll get that belt off so we can get to his wound."

"Ya know, I'm sitting right here. Don't talk to about me like I ain't here, man," Nick puffed out his chest a little, nostrils flaring in anger at being talked about as if he was handicapped and couldn't stand on his own.

Greg shifted his weight on his feet again, "Only take a couple seconds Nick. Just let us help you."

"Yeah, just let us help ya, bro."

There was no way he was going to win and Nick knew it. He took a deep breath and simply nodded his head. This was going to be embarrassing enough. Didn't need any more attention from the other occupants in the room with him. His body groaned as he was shifted back up to his feet with the help of the other two. The wound pulled and he was certain it had started to bleed again.

Leaning heavily on Greg, Nick felt his cheeks flush as Warrick tackled his belt buckle and the zipper. The jeans weren't what could be called tight, but they did require Warrick to reach around him and tug on them. It caused more blood to rush to color his face and neck. Nick was just very thankful that his partner didn't pull them far down. Only enough to get to what he needed to see.

"Damn man, that must really hurt," Warrick whistled out as he took a good look at the cut. It was higher than he had originally thought, but just about as deep. Glancing up with an apology, Warrick lowered Nick's boxer shorts a little so there was no cloth barrier.

'Greg? You see any disinfectant in that kit?"

The younger CSI looked around Nick's shoulder towards where Andrew and Brass were frantically cleaning up the music director. But he didn't see any bottles of anything helpful. "Nah, man. Nothing."

Warrick shook his head and gently pressed the skin around the cut. It was red and looked to be coming inflamed. He was worried about infection. That was something they didn't need on top of everything else. But then an idea struck him.

"Hey kids. Any of you have a water bottle?"

Blank eyes starred back at him. Warrick wanted nothing more than to get up and start screaming at them for their slow and lame reactions, but he managed to control it. Now was not the time to lose it over something so trivial. There would be time to beat on lockers later.

Just as he was about to ask again, Amber looked up and nodded. She slowly moved off her chair and made her way to what must have been her backpack. The zipper sounded through the area and she withdrew a blue bottle of water. There only appeared to be about half left, but it would work. Her feet produced no sound as she walked over to give Warrick the bottle.

"Thank you. Helps a lot," Warrick smiled as she looked up at his face. There was nothing coming from her that day. She soundless moved back to her seat. Arms wrapped around her torso as she hugged herself.

Now with the water, Warrick quickly unscrewed the top and poured a little onto part of the gauze he had in his hand, "Greg, hold him still. Have to clean this up a little before I bandage it."

Nick closed his eyes tight as he felt Greg's grip tighten around his shoulders. Fingers poked at his hot skin, but it was the wet cloth that set fire through his hips. A pain-filled moan escaped his throat despite his best attempts to be silent. He gasped back the second one as Warrick dug a little bit to pull out some gravel that had worked its way in.

"Not a doctor, but I think this will hold up 'til we get you to a hospital."

"Haven't we had that discussion about hospitals before," Nick pushed past his teeth, "I don't want to be prodded."

Greg laughed at this, "Then you are in the wrong line of work. You should have worked in a petting zoo if you didn't ever want to be prodded. Nick, you've bad luck with this job."

"Oh, geez, thanks Greg. You my friend too?"

The mood was a little lighter as Warrick cut off some of the white bandage and applied it to the area with a lot of tape. He had no idea how long they were going to be there so he wanted to make sure the stubborn Texan kept it in place. Next time he would wrap Nick up in tape if he had to.

Nick tried to get his jeans back up on his own, but it wasn't working. The new addition to his skin didn't want to budge against the pull. Warrick had to help him. The blush was never going to leave now. His body was quite glad to sit back in the chair though.

"Alright, sit. Let me see your hands."

"Oh yeah, you're one to talk. Yours are worst than mine by far."

It was true, but Warrick had been ignoring that pain along with all his others. The bleeding had stopped awhile back and he had picked a little at the rocks. All in all, they weren't as bad as he had thought they were.

"Besides, I saw your ass limping around. Your leg's bothering you as well."

Warrick looked up as the words shot at him, "Oh yeah, what about your leg, your ribs, and your head? I think you are not going to beat me in this game, Nick."

"Whatever," the Texan mumbled as he lowered to rest his chin against his chest. But he didn't refuse the other man when Warrick reached for his injured hands. Nick had mostly messed them up during his struggle to get out after Warrick had found him. Nothing too terrible though.

It burned as the gravel was washed away, but Nick simply bit his lip to keep in all sounds. He pulled away once his partner moved to wrap them as well. Bandages would just get in the way.

"Okay, ya looked at mine. Now, I get to do the same."

Greg smirked as he watched Warrick shrug and slap out his hands, palms up. It was clear that he had the worst wounds to his digits. Pulling those rocks from Nick had taken its toll. But Greg was sure Warrick would do it a hundred times over without thought if he ever had to again.

"Happy now, Nicky?"

The glare wasn't as good as Nick had been hoping for, "No. Still have other injuries, man. But, I'll harass you later about them. You're gonna be on the hospital bed right next to me just so I can jaw ya to death."

"Now that you two are done bickering, I say we check and see how our friendly cops in blue are doing," Greg finally spoke up between the other two CSI's.

The youngest of the trio didn't bother for any response as he moved around the chair towards the temporary hospital bed. Andrew was pushing downward hard onto the man's chest, trying to stop the bleeding from the large cut they had discovered once they pulled the dark shirt of the man.

"How's it going?"

Brass looked up quickly from where he was cleaning up several lacerations on the man's stomach, "Well, if we can get the bleeding to stop, he might have a chance. Anyone check out the kids? Make sure they're okay?"

"Not yet, I'll go talk with them," Nick stated as he slowly made his way towards the open chair standing alone by the group of students.

Warrick shook his head as he watched Nick wander away from his friends. It was obvious he didn't want to be bothered anymore about how he was feeling. Now they had to worry about saving the music director's life. Then, getting the hell out of this school.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"So, how y'all doing? No one get hurt in that fiasco we just had?"

Nick suddenly felt really old. He never had when he was dealing with his nieces and nephews, but these teenagers made him feel ancient. This was a feeling he had never really experienced before. It confused him and he felt nervous to sit with these kids.

When he had been in high school, kids knew to respect their elders in most situations. They answered when talked to by someone of authority. None of these kids must have learned those simple manners or they just didn't care. It was scary to think his future would some day be in these kids' hands.

"Cat got your tongue?"

This went over all their heads, "What?"

The tallest boy spoke up. His voice was solid, almost bored. Nick shook his head, "What's your name?"

"Derek. How many times do you people need to know?"

Nick held up his hands in surrender, grin plastered on his face, "Just a question, man. Nothing more."

"Oh just ignore him. He thinks he can say and do whatever her wants," the blonde girl from before scoffed as she looked at the boy's face.

"Okay, but that wasn't my question. Did any of you get hurt? Any injuries of any kind?"

"No sir."

Nick looked at the timid, red haired girl. She still had herself wrapped up tight. He could see the dried up tear tracks on her cheeks. "And you are?"

"Amber."

"Well, Amber. My name's Nick. And I promise you, all of you, we're going to get out of this soon and just fine. Trust me."

She smiled timidly back at his grin. Nick only could hope he wasn't giving her any false hope in this matter. He would never be able to live with himself if he did.

***

#6: As the storm blows on...

Brass rubbed his shirt sleeve across his forehead. His hands were covered in Mr. Kentwood's blood. That was something the detective never enjoyed. In all his years, he felt the presence of blood on his hands more than he ever thought he would. Las Vegas was the city that knew how to bleed.

He took a deep breath and looked up at his younger colleague, "I think we've done all we could, Andy. Its up to him to make it now and us to get him out."

"Think he's gonna make it?" Warrick spoke up from the spot that he had taken up when he joined the others.

"Did all we could with what we got here. We should head out and take a look at our situation. I don't want to be here any longer than we have to."

Andrew looked up from his own hands as the other two men talked. He had to agree one hundred percent with Brass on getting out of this school. There were dead people across the hall, the two CSI's were injured, and there were scared teenagers sitting with Nick. "Should we split up?"

Brass exchanged a glance with Warrick, "That would probably be the best idea. Warrick, you and Greg go back and check out the band room. Andy and I'll go back to the other room and look around at where the hallway collapsed."

"What about the other rooms? Those other doors out there," Greg was still moving from foot to foot.

"Get to them once we find a way out of here. After the two we have been in already."

All four men exchanged looks before moving away from the injured man. They were all worried that he would die, but they knew that if they didn't leave him, he would never have a chance in hell anyways. This was the only way to save him and possibly some of the others trapped under the walls and ceiling in the other room. No one probably even knew what had happened to them yet.

Grabbing Andrew by the sleeve, Brass pulled the younger man towards the door. They shared nods, but there were no more words spoken from the two officers. Andrew was busy trying to wipe the blood off on his pants as he shuffled along.

Not moving his feet, Warrick looked over his shoulder to where Nick was talking with the kids. They had moved from their pile into a semi circle with the Texan in the middle of it. It seemed Nick was getting them to calm down and try to understand what needed to be done. He was bringing them out of that weird funk they had locked themselves into to get through this. The red headed girl had practically attached herself to his hip it seemed. His friend was going to have to stay in this room.

"Hey Nicky."

The call stopped all conversations and widened many of the young eyes. There bodies seemed to turn back in on themselves with the new presence. Any calm they had found, was disturbed. Nick turned, pushed himself up, and walked with a limp towards the other two CSI's. Something was up, he could feel it thickening the air. And he knew he wasn't probably going to like it.

"Yeah?"

"We need to check out the band room again. Plus, we need our kits. Well, if we can find the damn things."

"Good idea. There might be a way out through the rubble that we missed before. Though, it would have to be forgivable considering, eh?"

Warrick steadied himself for what he knew he had to say next, "Yeah, but Nick. I need ya to stay in here with the kids. Greg and I'll handle this, man."

It was something he should have been expecting. This was always what happened. Everyone else got to go off and do the work while Nick was sent back to the lab or left on the side lines. Now Warrick wanted him to baby-sit and wait like a little woman for the men to return with good news. This wasn't the 16th centaury anymore. He wasn't going to sit here and wait.

"I don't think so man. I'm coming with."

"No Nick. I need you to stay here."

Nick's eyes narrowed, his lips turned into a small sneer, "Why? Why do you need me to stay here? Huh? Tell me!"

Everyone else in the room shuffled as the fire between the two sparked up even higher. Greg stepped closer, just in case. Like he knew when they arrived at the school, he would never be able to break them up if they went at it, but that wouldn't stop him. There was no way he was going to let his friends kill each other.

"Guys, calm down."

"Oh shut up, Greg," Nick snapped uncharacteristically, "Why Warrick? Why should I stay here?"

"Because! You're hurt and I need you stay out of trouble. I cannot risk letting you do anything that might kill you, man," Warrick shouted suddenly.

Nick's mouth opened and closed slightly at the outburst. Rarely had Warrick shouted at him like that. This was something he didn't hear from the other man. It caught him off guard. Caught him enough to get out of his own temper.

"Wha..."

But Warrick sliced his hand downward in the air, "No. Don't argue with me on this one. Just listen for once and stay here."

"You always ask a lot of me, man," Nick said softly, turning his face downward to study his shoes.

Silence fell over the two friends. It was loud enough to roar through the rest of the room. Greg felt he needed to hold his breath in order to not break...anything. This was not his place to break any of the stuff these two men created.

"This is just like before. Asking me for something that I don't have to give. You say you're my friend, well, all I ask is that you keep acting like it. Don't do these things to me. You know I don't need it. I don't need you to protect me, Warrick."

Warrick suddenly became aware of many things, mostly the large group of people witnessing this exchange, "Alright. But if you don't watch yourself, your ass is mine. I'll kick it from here back to the lab!"

They slapped hands together, gripped the other fiercely. It was their grip of friendship, brotherhood. If words failed them, this was what the two could count on. Their hands knew better than their brains on matters such as these. They were being stupid, but the shake was always true.

"So, kids," Warrick turned to the group who were trying to look anywhere, but the three men, "We're going to go look around. I need all of you to stay in here. Don't go anywhere. Ya hear me?"

Some heads moved in some resemblance of a nod. A couple okay's reached out into hearing range. It was enough to let Greg know these kids were going to hide away in this room some more. They were scared and it was shutting them all down. He wanted to help get them out of here.

"You two done conversing now? We've work to do in case ya forgot!"

Nick smiled and turned to face Greg, "Where'd we be without you Greggo?"

"Probably getting some lecture from Grissom or something," the younger CSI's grin grew as Warrick laughed and threw his arm around the shorter man's shoulders.

"Can't have that know can we. Alright, enough chit chat. Let's get to work."

The three of the walked out the door, one after the other. Several sets of eyes watched them, different emotions being shown. But none of those young eyes were gifted words. Only fear, anger, and determination glowed through the pupils encased different corneas.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"Shit, this is more of mess than I remember," Brass scratched at the top of his scalp as he took in the room through the now flickering lights. It seemed the electricity was finally beginning to lose its battle to stay flowing through this area. The other room they had just left had been just fine. If this was anything like the high school, there would be more than one generator in case of emergency.

"Well, should we attempt to dig anyone out of that?" Andrew nodded his head towards the stone tomb.

"No. It could be something like those car accidents were the person is kept alive by the car holding them together. We could cause something to shift and possibly kill someone still alive. Need more help for something like that."

The younger man nodded, but didn't feel any better about the decision. His dream as a kid had been to be an EMT. Nothing more than a man in an ambulance. Other kids wanted to be the cop. Not him. It was never something he wished to become. But here he was, a cop with a tough decision to leave people to be injured and possibly dead. It was harder than he thought it ever could have been.

Without saying another word or sparing another glance at the large rubble pile, Andrew made his way slowing around the room. He would let Brass look around for an exit. His eyes would search for that black case of Greg's.

Brass shifted his weight along with lose rocks as he examined parts of the downed wall. There was no way he was going to climb on top of it. Like Andrew, he knew better than to mess with the small pockets that might have been created underneath this mess. He didn't want to kill someone and not even know it.

From his vantage point, there were no gaps available between the bricks and other objects forced within the school. Water still dripped in through tiny cracks that he couldn't even see. Brass could have sworn he saw a car tire wedges in there. Reaching out a hand, he pushed at a part farthest from the middle. With a grunt, nothing moved. This room didn't hold their exit.

"Nothing here, kid."

Andrew looked up from his crouched position by the still woman by the wall. In his hands he held a black CSI bag. It was wet on the outside and damp around the zipper, but appeared to be undamaged. Something might actually be used for the case if they could make one now.

'Found Greg's bag."

"Great. Grab it and let's get out of here. I want to check those other two doors right before the wreckage in the hall. Might be another room with an opening."

As they walked towards the doorway, the lights flickered one last time before extinguishing. Andy pulled in a quick breath, but didn't let his steps falter. He could see the yellow tinged light still burning brightly out in the hallway. That was his destination now.

The older detective was pretty much on his heels as they burst into the hallway. Even as a child, Brass had never been afraid of the dark, but in that classroom behind them, he was. It shut off his vision and he could have sworn he saw ghosts floating around lost.

Taking a deep breath and placing both hands on his stomach, Brass turned to look at Andrew, "Come on. Have to take a look at this mess with the hallway."

"Sure thing."

As they got closer to where the tornado had ripped through the school, Andrew could make out a rocking chair embedded within the bricks. He sure hoped some old lady hadn't been in it at the time when it took into flight. Knowing that no one would be caught underneath this pile, the younger cop felt more adventurous about climbing around and feeling for a week spot.

Brass held the CSI bag in his left hand as he watched the other man climb around like a monkey. There was no way he was getting his bad knee up there. Besides, though he would never admit it, Andrew was stronger than him and be able to do this better anyways.

"Now, don't make me catch you kid."

Andrew laughed as he pushed against another large brick, "Never, boss. Never."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"So you guys were trapped in this? Damn!" Greg crouched down by the bloody stones that Nick had been encased under. His hands shook a little as he took in the amount of blood each man had shed. Being caught in his own room was bad enough, but his friends had been in much worst than him. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself before he turned back to the others.

Nick leaned against the wall to reach down towards the floor, "Yeah man. Wasn't a picnic that was for sure."

"Like you've been on one Nicky," Warrick chided from where he was fumbling around the Ford truck slammed into the wall. He had a feeling this was the best place to work at in order to get them out of this damn place.

"Just cause you've only been on one with your Grammy doesn't mean I've never been on a real one with a girl back home."

"Girls actually talked to you?" Greg didn't want to be left out this time.

"More than you could ever dream of Greg. Your kindergarten girlfriend doesn't count, man."

Warrick laughed full from his belly, "And here I thought it was pre-school. By age six most girls knew Greg here was a lost cause."

It hurt to laugh, but Nick didn't stop. His hand covered his wound over his hip without him really being aware of it. Ever rib in his chest seemed to stretch with every expansion of his lungs. But it was what he needed right now. Being back in this room had been harder on him than he had thought it would be. He had never been forced to look at what remained of his glass coffin. Just now, his stone one.

"Hey, I've had lots of ladies. You guys just aren't cool enough for me to introduce them to you too. If anything would scare them off, it would be your ugly mugs," Greg bent over and pulled at the black strap he had finally seen.

"Who's married, man! Huh? I got me a very fine woman."

"Still say she was completely drunk when it happened," Nick pulled out a flattened saxophone, "Never would a sober woman marry you."

Warrick slapped his hand onto the steel bumper, "Drinks were not involved, Nicky. Not until the honeymoon. Then it was flowing from the tap."

"And I don't need to be hearing about that."

With a grunt, Greg pulled the kit bag free. It was ripped in one place along the bottom. Carefully opening it to look inside, the young CSI could see the broken jars and cracked reeds. Whatever evidence was being kept safe in here was heavily compromised. "Is that because you wouldn't remember what any of it was?"

The sax clanged to the ground as Nick let it fall from his hands, "Now that was below the belt. Come on Greg, don't play dirty."

No one said a word. Greg looked slowly up from the broken bag, afraid of what he would see on the other two's faces. He hadn't meant to get out of line. This was how he thought they played this game. But his eyes became slits as he saw the other two attempting to hold in their laughter.

"You guys are such jerks," he yelled, throwing his hands out wide.

"Yeah, yeah," Warrick wiped at his eyes, "Enough of this fooling around. We don't want Brass to find us like this. Find anything?"

He made his way back to where Greg was. The place he had remembered his bag being was completely buried. There was no way they were going to be able to get to it now. But it did look like Greg was holding something.

"What ya got there?"

"I found someone's bag. Don't know which of yours it is though, sorry."

Warrick took the kit in his hand and looked inside. This one wasn't his. And it looked like anything Nick had gotten from the upper part of the room was long gone. He signed and rubbed at his forearm with his right hand. They had a tough case from the get go and now they had an impossible one.

"Shit. Nick, your stuffs ruined."

The Texan walked slowly towards his friends, a frown on his face, "Find yours?"

"Nah, mine's under the damn truck probably. Not that I had a whole lot anyways. But the camera would have been nice to have."

"Maybe once we get some help we can find it. Dig it out. Might be something we can scrounge up to use."

Greg looked uneasy, "So how'll we put this case together? I mean, I had nothing from any of the kids. I'm sure my stuff is trashed, but I had gotten their fingerprints and checked for GSR. All of them tested negative."

"See anywhere where a gun could be ditched in any of those rooms," Warrick questioned.

"No. Wait, you didn't find one in here?"

This was shocking to Greg. He had thought for sure one of them would have found a gun in this room. But now knowing there wasn't one yet, he was worried.

"What are we going to do?"

With a shake of his head, Warrick looked at the younger man, "Find a way out of here now. I don't know about you guys, but I think this case is a lost one."

"No such thing as a lost case, Warrick. Just harder ones to solve," Nick studied the room around them from his spot.

"You've been hanging out with Grissom too much, bro."

But Nick didn't respond. Instead he moved slowly once again towards where the wall used to stand. Something had caught his eyes and he wanted a better look. It was a hard trek, but he finally made it. He ignored the feeling of blood filling his bandages clinging to his body. That wasn't necessary information anymore.

"Nick? Nicky? What are ya doing?"

Warrick's forehead crinkled with worry as he watched Nick move over the rubble. His friend was obviously trying to hide his pain, but he could tell by the slump of the Texan shoulders and the hunch of that proud back. Nick needed to get to a hospital soon. And he would love to join him. His own body wasn't happy with any of this.

It was Greg that actually moved after the other man. His steps were lighter than Nick's and it didn't take him much time at all to catch up. They were now standing at the far side of the mess, away from the truck. Now Greg was able to see it as well.

"I see outside!"

Sure enough, there was a hole in the downed wall. It was tiny, but it was enough to see the gray sky full of rain on the outside. The storm was still ragging on, but it looked like the tornados were something they weren't going to have to worry about anymore. That made Greg feel much better. Those were much more scary than he had ever imagined.

"Hey Greg, you think you can fit through there?"

The former lab rat shifted himself closer to the tiny exit. He reached up with his hand to judge the size by matching it against his outstretched fingers. It was much smaller than he had thought.

"There is no way I'm fitting through there. I'd get stuck!"

By now, Warrick had made his way over and was looking over their situation, "Nick? What about you?"

That caused Nick to start laughing, "Yeah man, if Greg can't make it, I'll shimmy right through there. Damn Warrick. What the hell are you thinking? My shoulders are broader than his, my hips too. No way."

"Yeah, sure. Can't have your ass stuck in there," Warrick grinned as he thought about it. None of them would get through there. Andy was bigger than Nick so he wasn't an option. As for himself, he would be lucky to get his arm through the damn thing.

Greg's eyes widened, "Hey, I bet one of those kids could get through here!"

The other two shared a glance and nodded. None of the adults would be able to get through that, but there were plenty of kids to try. And someone needed to get outside to get some help. Someone needed to know they were in there.

"Alright," Warrick stepped back, "Let's go meet up with Brass and Andy. We'll see what they think and get something done. Maybe they found something as well."

The tallest CSI led the way from the rubble back towards the door, back to the other people. Nick held back a little, sucking in a breath to stop from groaning. A glance down at his hip proved that he was bleeding again. And it looked bad. He darted his eyes upward at the other's backs. There was no way he was going to hide this.

***

#7: Out of control...

Andrew was still pushing at the stones when the three CSI's joined the cops out in the hallway. From what he could make of it, the tornado had ripped through the school, severing it in two. And on the outside of this storm-made wall, was nothing, but a bigger mess. There was no exit here.

He carefully made his way so his feet were once again flat on the floor. With a stretch, he heard the soft popping sound of his vertebra. As bad as he had always heard it was to pop joints, it sure felt good on certain days. Today was definitely one of those days.

"You guys have any luck?"

"Found Nick's bag and a possible way out," Greg jumped forward to be the one to break the good news. It was his turn to make people feel better, even just a little bit. The bag felt heavy in his hand as he hefted it up.

Brass' eyebrow rose, "Really? Where?"

"Back in the band room. There's a small hole in the broken wall," Warrick's deep voice echoed slightly through the hallway, "But none of us are going to be able to get through it. But we were thinking, one of the kids could do it."

The two officers exchanged a look. It was an idea, but none of them had been cleared from the crime. Brass wasn't about to rule any of them out for this, but if one could get out, then maybe there was a chance to save all this and find the girl's killer.

"We could send two of them. That way, in case something is up, one won't be able to do anything without the other," Andrew spoke up as if he had read Brass' mind.

Nick's mind ran quickly over the kids he had been sitting with. Two of the girls were small and would probably work for this. But would they be willing to do it? This was a big undertaking and it might be too much for their already traumatized minds. "Well, if we're going to do this, we should go talk with them I guess. Have to see if we can even get one, let alone two, to do this."

Brass rested his closed fists on his hips and looked at the four younger men standing around him. This should have never happened to them. It was supposed to be a simple job, help out the local law enforcement. Now they were trapped in a school with what seemed like only one way out. This wasn't supposed to happen to these people. They had enough crap through their lives as it was.

"We still have other rooms to look into as well. Nick and Andrew, you two go in and check with the kids. You two," he nodded towards Warrick and Greg, "Come with me and we'll check out these other three doors. We might get lucky."

As positive as he could be in this situation, Greg looked around them at the other doors. Only one was left on the side where there would be any windows. The other two were next to the classroom the kids were staying in. Unless they were ripped open by the tornado, there would be nothing there. But he wasn't about to argue with Brass.

Grabbing Andrew as the two groups began to form, Brass leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Watch Nick. He's bleeding again."

Trying to be as discreet as possible, Andrew looked down towards Nick's waist. The brown, dried up blood was getting a new tint of red with the new bleeding. That cut needed stitches. Too bad he didn't know how to stitch.

Warrick slapped Nick on the shoulder as he moved to stand closer to Brass so they could figure out how to check out these rooms. He took notice of how Andrew moved close to his partner as they walked away to talk with the kids. Something was up that he missed, but the cop noticed. A twinge of guilt ran through his body at that idea. He was supposed to watch over Nick. Seems he might be letting him down again.

"Well, three doors. Three of us. It was be quickest for each of us to take a room," Brass began to bark out his orders, happy to have something he knew how to deal with, "Look over everything. Don't pass over something because you don't think it matters. I'll take the lone door on that side, you two take your pick of the others. Ten minutes, be back in the hall to report."

If either CSI had anything to say, they never were given a chance. Greg watched the detective head off to do his job. He had to smile a little at the attitude that could grab a hold of the older man. Whenever they had a case and Brass was on the scene, Greg would have to say he always felt completely safe that the man would make sure he was kept from harm whenever possible.

With that fleeting thought, Greg turned to face Warrick, "So, how ya want to do this?"

"No coin toss or any of that crap. Just take the one in front of you and I'll take the other one there."

"Okay, see ya in ten."

Greg turned to face the door head on and took a deep breath. For some reason this was scaring the shit out of him. It was just a door. An empty room. 'Well, I hope an empty room.'

The wooden door had a small, thin plague just lower than his visual range. According to that, this room was for authorized personal only. Reaching out for the knob, he was surprised to find it unlocked. Most rooms such as these had to be locked at all times, only certain people were allowed a key. But he wasn't about to ask for any bad luck, so Greg pushed the door inward.

Here was the reason the electricity still worked in this part of the school. Two large generators took up most of the space. There was a thin walkway through the pipes and wires. Greg walked almost on his tip toes around the area. None of the walls seemed to be affected by the storm. And the one of the machines was still humming strongly. It was providing light to the safe rooms it seemed.

Looking towards the cork board on the wall, Greg could see a map of the school and to which rooms each generator was hooked up to. On the other end of the building, there were two more just like these two. It seemed to be a lot of backup power for a not very large school. Greg just shook his head and moved on.

There wasn't anything in this room to hide in or hide something in. He carefully checked in every nuke and cranny that he could reach to look for anything. But with how the room was stationed and if everyone assumed like he had that the door should have been locked, it was a bad place to stash a gun. Greg checked his watch and saw his ten minutes had been eaten up rather quickly.

Deciding to give the room one more look over quick, Greg got as low as he could. Anything could happen now it seemed. He wasn't about to let anything go. Only hope was someone else would have something go good for them.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Brass threw his weight against the door, swearing the entire time. This was getting way too old for him. After one more push, the door gave and the detective almost fell onto the floor. Shuffling his feet quickly, Brass got into the room on his feet. It was completely dark, just like the classroom next door.

"Perfect. Just perfect."

Groping around his belt, he found the small flashlight he kept clipped there. The beam wasn't broad or even that bright, but it was enough to allow him to see where he was putting his feet. This seemed to be the spot when the tornado turned in towards the school. Only half of the room was truly left. He didn't have to walk far.

Sweeping the light back and forth, there was nothing, but brick and stone. Not even a fun extra encased in this. Stepping over a busted desk, Brass walked towards the new corner formed on his left. Placing his left hand on the wet surface, he leaned his weight towards it. There wasn't even a grumble from the stone.

Attempting not to trip, Brass made his way across the entire demolition sight, testing for a weakness. The tornado left nothing here for them to use. There was a dripping noise by his feet, but he wasn't about to crawl on his hands and knees looking for the source of the water. From what his flashlight told him, there was nothing for a human to use.

Brass sighed deeply and turned back to face into the room. Now he was going to look for anything that might have to do with their case. It was possible something could have been stashed in here, though someone should have seen it.

'Just like someone should have seen that girl get shot in the back of the head in the middle of her band room.'

Everything in this smaller space was made to be there. A few chairs, a couple student desks, a table. Nothing that screamed for any attention. Brass let his light linger over the chalk board eraser on the floor, letting it all sink in.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Now that he had the time to look at the door in his way, Warrick could see the small sign in the middle of it. It was split in two, each side of the line had a picture. There was the stick figure of a man, another of a woman in a dress. It was a bathroom.

Warrick frowned at this fact. Usually in schools, as with other larger buildings, there were two bathrooms, one for each gender. But here, right in front of him, was a bathroom with both available. And to high school students at that. Lots of trust for a group of teenagers.

Shaking his head slightly, he opened the bolt with a turn of the elongated handle. The room was dark inside. Reaching in his right hand, Warrick patted the wall looking for a switch. It was maybe three inches from the edge of the door. The room was lit up immediately. It was a small room.

It turned out to be a single bathroom. There was only one toilet, one sink, and one paper towel dispenser. Still seemed odd to have in a high school. Warrick began to wonder if this building was meant to become a school when it was built. It would have been easy enough to add on other rooms to something that was already standing.

But like the room next to this one, it was untouched by the tornado and had no windows. Taking a step in, it looked to be only nine feet by nine. It wasn't a large bathroom. But it was enough to get the job done.

Warrick decided to start from one side by the door and work around to the other. No way was this going to take ten minutes. There was a trash can with a lid, the typical swinging door on the front. Warrick felt around on his person until he came across his spare gloves. There was no way he was going to ruin something new when they had possibly lost everything else.

The latex touched the rubber of the lid and allowed Warrick to lift it from the base. Crumpled up brown paper was the only thing to meet his green eyes. He reached in and shifted it around, feeling for anything hard. Nothing, but paper towel.

"Shit," he breathed into the room as he turned his head to look at the mirror and the sink. There was nothing underneath the porcelain structure, but a steel drain and the curved trap. His hands were itching for his phenophylene. There could be blood evidence there. Warrick made a mental note to come back and check it out if Nick's supplies were still good.

His hand reached up and tugged at the mirror. It was molded into the wall. Feeling around the edges, there were no gaps. Nothing was behind this thing. But right next to it was the towel dispenser. It was white and old fashioned. There was screw on the top, a turning rod on the side, and small teeth on the bottom. Warrick worked at the screw and got the top of the dispenser to fall forward. A half roll of brown towel was left. Otherwise, empty.

That let the toilet. It was shiny, clean. And the seat lid was down. Warrick lifted it slowly, his head tilted downward. Clear water filled the bowl. Squinting his eyes and pressing his lips together, Warrick let the lid clang down as he released it. His hands went straight for the tank lid this time. Porcelain scraped against other porcelain as it was lifted from its groves. The black float rubber, white plastic, and grayish black steel.

The Glock G21 45 ACP was flooded at the bottom of the tank. Warrick closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled a cleansing breath. It was drenched, but it was a gun. They were one step closer. Now, how it got in this toilet tank?

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Andrew walked into the room first, the CSI trailing behind him. Nick's steps were getting slower with each step he took. But there was no way he was going to let that on to anyone else. He would get through this and then ask for help. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

The kit in his hand felt heavy. For a moment, Nick ignored the eyes following his every move. He wanted to check over what was left in his bag. It made weird clanking noises as he settled it down on the wooden surface.

As Greg had said, the jars were broken. Hell, his fingerprint brush was cracked almost completely in half. There was some water that had settled on the bottom. Reaching in carefully, Nick swiped his finger along the inside of the leather. The paste was his fingerprinting powders. There was no way he was going to get paid back for having to replace this mess.

'You're already one your third kit, Nicky-boy. Ecklie will shit a brick with this latest one.'

Figuring the kit was a waste of time, Nick moved away from it. His body screamed at him to stop moving. But it did feel like the bleeding at slowed down or stopped again. Andrew had taken a seat and had his arms crossed over his chest. The two men shared a look, neither wanting to start this conversation with the kids. Nick rolled his eyes as he realized he lost before they had even begun to form a game.

"Okay, I'm just going to put this all out on the table. We found a way out."

Natalie immediately jumped up, the brown haired Jack on her heels, "We need to get out of here! Where is it?"

Nick held his hands out in a calming gesture. He worked hard to keep his face, his eyes calm as he did this. "There's a small hole back in your band room. And I mean small."

"In the band room? We have to go back in there?" Kyle asked while looking at Nick through his eyelashes, blue eyes dark.

"Well, technically," Andrew jumped in to help a little, "Only two of you need to go back in that room. We want to send two of you out for help. The rest will have to stay here."

Just as the cop expected, protests and outcries filled the room. Derek and Kevin were on their feet now as well, arms flapping in the arm. Their voices were down to growls and mumbles as they protested this. It was clear they knew they were too big to fit through. They just didn't want to admit it.

Nick focused his attention on the other two girls, Amber and Susie. Neither had looked up from their shoes. Their hands were wrapped tightly together. These were the two they needed to send out. Only those two could make it through that space.

"It's simple. Two leave through the hole, go to the police station, get help. Then when helps arrives you all can go home. But that means we need to figure this out now. No more arguing or fighting us. We're not here to hurt you guys."

The explanation from Nick calmed Natalie and Kevin down, but Derek was still besides himself, "And who ya guys gonna send? Huh? What if we die in here? Ya want that?"

The boy was shorter than Nick, but he might have been just as broad. Nick could see the muscles tensing under his shirt. He knew the signs for someone getting ready to attach. This kid was wired on something, fear maybe.

"No one's going to die. We just can't get any help in here without sending someone out."

"Oh yeah? I thought cops had radios, cell phones. What 'bout it?"

Nick might as well been punched in his gut. His cell phone. Wrenching his eyes from the fuming teenager, Nick looked down at his body. It had been blocked from his mind the minute that truck felt bumper over bumper at that doorway. He could have hit himself in the head for not even thinking about it. There were no thoughts about how no one else had thought of it either.

"Radio doesn't work, Nick."

The cop's quiet voice cut through his self punishment, "What?"

"I tried it out in the hallway when Brass and I were looking around. There's nothing. And my phone's in my car so no good with that one. But, look at yours."

Nick fumbled with the flap of his pocket to reach for his phone. The small miracle felt solid and heavy in his hand. And it made Nick's face drop the moment he flipped it open. The screen was dark and cracked. He pushed at some buttons, but nothing happened. It was dead.

"Shit. Won't work."

He handed it over when Andrew reached for it. A deep, shaky breath escaped his frame as he turned to face the kids again. Cell phones were banned from most schools. It appeared that this was one of those. None of the kids had one. And a quick look around the room, there wasn't a land phone present either.

"Any phones around this part of the school?"

Sam shook his head as he watched Derek sit back down, "Nah. Closest one is the office. About five doors down."

That was out of the question. As far as Nick knew, that room didn't even exist anymore. He would have to check with Warrick and Greg when they got back to see if their phones still worked. There had to be one out of the five. They weren't that unlucky.

"Okay, the phone idea is on hold. We still need two people to volunteer to go get help. Your music director, and possibly others, are severely wounded and need help. The more time we waste here talking, the more time we take from them."

"Who could fit?" Amber asked shyly. She seemed nervous to speak above a whisper. It was as if she thought something terrible would happen again if she did.

Andrew rubbed a hand through his hair, "It's pretty small. None of the guys will be able to do it. But, two of you girls might be able to get through. We can take the three of you in and see who can get through."

"Why can't all of us go?" Natalie's face was pale and drawn.

"No, only two. But we have to wait until the other three men are done."

The kids shuffled their shoes and returned to their mesh. But Nick knew they couldn't keep leaving them alone for long periods of time. Someone was going to have to stay in this room with the boys as they worked on getting someone out of this building.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg walked into the hallway, headed straight to where Brass was already standing. The detective did not look pleased. His room must have been as big of a bust as his had been. Only one way out and none of the adults could use it.

"Find anything Greg?"

"No, it's the generator room. One's still working strong, reason we got lights out here and that side of the hall. But nothing we can use."

"How about this?" Warrick's voice cut in and forced the other two to turn and look at him. Brass actually smiled at the gun Warrick dangled in his gloved hand.

"Murder weapon?"

"Possibly. Found it in the unisex bathroom I checked out. It was sunk in the tank. Have to get it back to Bobby."

Greg starred at the handgun with wide eyes, "How would someone get that in a school?"

"This is a Glock 21. It's popular for self/home defense. Easy to use, easy to conceal. And you can get them reasonably priced on the internet. A kid could easily get one from their parent's bed side table."

"But..." Greg's blood went cold at the idea. Of course he had heard about all the school shootings and school violence around the country, but he had thought the worst of that was over. Now, here, in almost his backyard, was another incident of kids possibly killing other kids at school.

Brass clamped a bear hand on the younger man's arm, "Don't think too much about it. Worry about it more when we get out of here. Then I want to be impressed by your abilities."

The three men started walking together towards the other classroom, the only other room in this mess with other human souls. Nick and Andrew didn't look thrilled, but Warrick could tell they had talked to the kids already. All six feminine eyes watched his progress closely.

"Anyone?"

Nick shrugged, shifted his weight, "We told them we'd take all the girls in there to see which two could do it. But we have to leave someone in here."

"Andrew and Greg can stay," Brass made it simple, "We'll take the girls and return once we get this done. You CSI's make things to complicated sometimes. Think too much."

"Yeah, that would be us nerdy science type guys," Nick grinned slightly.

Warrick walked to the door ignoring his aching muscles, "So then, let's get a move on. Girls, if you would be so kind as to follow."

Soft groans and sniffle emitted into the room as the three girls forced themselves to their feet. Amber's eyes were wet though she tried to hide them from the others. She was sheltered between the other two as the made to exit the room. Nick was right behind them, limp slightly present.

"You two play it safe. And check up on the director," Brass mumbled softly to his two guys.

"I didn't chat with Nick about his wound yet."

The older detective looked at Andrew. It was clear the younger man was upset that he had let that slide. But considering the circumstances, a lecture wasn't needed. Brass would just have to do it himself. And get some help from Warrick. Well, after he checked on that boy as well. These CSI's were going to kill him before this was all said and done.

"Alright. We'll be back as soon as we can. Watch yourselves."

Greg wrapped his arms around his body as he watched Brass leave the room. The reassuring smile Andrew gave him couldn't help rid his frame of the sudden cold that wrapped around him. He had a bad feeling. A really bad feeling.

***

#8: A strange new perfume blows...

It was getting late. Catherine was beginning to seriously regret offering to help out the swing shift with that case at the Tangiers. It had been simple enough, but now she had to get ready to start her normal graveyard case. And with the boys out in Boulder City, there was going to be even more work for them to do.

Her shoes clapped on the tiles of the hallway as she made her way towards Grissom's office. There had been nothing more to do with swing and she had yet to find Sara walking around. Something had to be left for graveyard to do. But the door was closed.

Catherine frowned as she took in the wooden barrier. It wasn't often that this door was closed. She strained her ears for any sounds on the other side. There were none. Her hand rapped lightly and she took a step back to wait. It wasn't more than thirty seconds until the door opened.

"Catherine? Case wrapped?" Grissom reached up to remove his glasses as he took in the blonde CSI standing in his doorway.

"Yeah, nothing too difficult with a cheating husband and his hooker. Wife practically tap danced her confession. I signed off on it to swing. Now, anything we need to work on?"

Grissom moved away from his door and walked around his desk. His chair waited patiently for his body. It welcomed him fully. The glasses rested on the papers from the file the supervisor had been looking at for the part twenty minutes.

"You hear from the guys?"

"Still haven't gotten a call?" Catherine's delicate eyebrows raised high on her brow.

"No. Nothing from any of the three or from Brass even. Something's not right."

"Have you tried calling the police station?"

The comment caught Grissom off guard. He had been so worried about getting a call from one of his guys, he hadn't even thought about calling the police station itself. It made perfect sense, but it had slipped past his grasp. Grissom shook his head slightly and berated himself for a moment. He was fully aware that Catherine's eyes were on his face.

"You didn't did you." It wasn't a question. The volume in her voice dropped off at the end. She knew better. Sometimes that man just grated on her nerves. He was brilliant, but he could be really dense more times than she could count of her fingers.

"Didn't even think about it, to be honest."

Smiling slightly, Catherine didn't bother saying anything else as she reached for her phone. It flipped open tightly and the screen caused her face to light up with a soft blue glow. The speed dial went straight through to the operator for the station. The voice was pleasant and gladly placed Catherine's call through to the Boulder City Police Department.

She winked at Grissom as he watched her like one of his racing cockroaches. It was a look of well hidden confusion and discomfort. Normally she would take great pleasure in getting this look out of the normally controlled and in charge man, but not now. Now the phone was answered.

"Yes, this is Catherine Willows with the Las Vegas lab. I'm calling about a case that three of our CSI's went out to work. We haven't heard from them and would like to talk with them."

Grissom's face got tighter as Catherine's frown forced two delicate wrinkles to show lightly across her forehead. The plumpness of her cheek was pulled in as she chewed on her inner cheek. Her fingers on her left hand began tapping to an off beat that she could only hear.

"And you're sure about this?"

Now her lips puckered inward. Her weight shifted.

"No one has looked?"

There was a third wrinkle line in her forehead now. Her eyes starred straight downward.

"Alright. Please make a note to contact us as soon as you know something...Uh huh...That would be greatly appreciated."

Catherine flipped her phone closed and held it tightly in her grip. Her knuckles went white as she thought about what she had just heard in that sweet voice on the other end of the line. Secretaries shouldn't be allowed to sound so nice when giving such troubling news.

"Well?"

That one word was so emotionally unlike Grissom that she looked up sharply. She had forgotten for a second that she was in the entomologist's office. Taking a deep breath and looking her friend right in the eye, Catherine readied herself.

"They're not there. Seems there were several tornados in the area. City is wrecked. Safety crews are busy helping out as many people as they can. Hospital is parked. It's possible they're still at the school."

"None of their officers were still present?"

"No. The sheriff wanted them out and back at the station due to the bad weather," Catherine chucked sarcastically, "But our guys were fine enough to be left behind it seems."

Grissom sat back heavily in his chair, his fingers rushing to pinch the bridge of his nose. He quickly ran through all the meteorology information he knew, but was coming up sadly short. Tornados were not things he knew much about. It was something that he should never have to worry about in this city, this area.

"So no one knows where the twisters touched down?"

'Didn't ask," Catherine shook her head, "But we need to get a hold of them. Now."

Her phone once again flipped open and her fingers flew over the buttons. First one number, than another. And another. Her eyes showed her fear to Grissom as he watched her. As her hand shook on the last try, he lifted himself from his seat enough to reach across the desk and take the phone from her. There was noise on the other end.

"The customer you are currently trying to reach is out of service or is out of area. Please contact your local cellular dealer for more information. The customer you are currently trying to reach is out of service or is out of area. Please contact your local cellular dealer for more information. The customer you are currently trying to reach..."

With a quiet sound of disgust, Grissom closed the phone and rested it against his forehead, "Who?"

"Nick, but Warrick's was the same. Greg's went to his voice mail. Should I have left a message?"

Her voice sounded so uncertain to Grissom, "No, it's fine. We just need to get over there."

Grissom was on his feet before Catherine could even blink. Her body moved before her brain and before she knew it, she was following him out into the sudden too bright hallway of the lab. The safe lab. Away from the outside world. Sure, they looked over evidence from violent acts, but it was relatively safe here from that. But her boys were out there. Somewhere. And she didn't know where.

"What do you mean? We're driving to Boulder City!"

His stride was longer than hers, but he slowed enough to turn around to look back, "Only place we can find them. I'll drive."

They continued to walk in silence, but determination. Now they had some sort of plan to set into motion. Grissom felt better now that he had something to focus on. And he would have plenty of time on the drive to get his speech in line.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Warrick could hear his voice shouting about how Nick was being stupid and should just sit his ass down. He should just admit that he was injured and needed some help. And some rest. Too bad he couldn't get the words out past his lips. Hearing voices inside your head, even your own, was supposed to be a bad thing.

The three girls were walking almost on top of each other as the moved from one room to another. It was something he never understood about women. Always had to go into the bathroom in packs and had to cling onto another when something stressed them out. Warrick would pay see a couple of guys doing the same things. No way was he going to go over and hold Nick's hand through this.

Brass had taken the lead and was marching with determination in front of him. He didn't even bother to ask for any sort of direction as to where this hole was. Seemed to Warrick the detective would just find it by some sort of miracle.

It was silent and damp in the band room. Just as they had left it only a short time ago. Nothing had sprouted from the floor and was waiting to gobble them up in a moment's notice. But Brass had stopped right in front of his followers. Warrick side stepped him.

"It's over here."

With a nod of his head, Warrick walked away from the group and headed towards their artificial window to the outside world. It was dark outside. Flicking his wrist, Warrick uncovered his watch and rubbed at the face. It was officially the night now. But he could still hear the pattering of the rain. It wasn't as strong, but it was still very present.

"Dang, you guys weren't kidding when you said it was small," Brass's deep baritone was suddenly right behind his right ear.

"Yeah, Greg would never have a chance."

Both men shared a look and looked back behind them. Nick was standing as straight as he could, hand resting on his hip. The three girls were trying to all hide behind his bulk. Amber looked to be shaking slightly.

Warrick leaned closer to Brass, "Jim, you really think we should do this?"

A sigh escaped, the words heavy, "We need to get someone out of here and get someone to help us."

"Hey, before it slips my mind again," Nick suddenly called, his body becoming straighter, "Cell phones."

It was simply two words, but it caused both Warrick and Brass to jump and begin patting down their bodies. Nothing was found. Warrick frowned as he tried to figure out what could have happened to his phone. He knew he had it when they walked into the building, into this room.

"Oh shit."

"Huh?"

"Put the damn thing in my kit. It's over there," Warrick threw his head towards the rubble that laughed at him from under that damn truck.

Brass shook his head, "Must have lost my radio. Nothing."

"Worth a shot. I hadn't even thought of it until Andy and I were alone with the kids. Have to use the hole."

Nick shuffled a little as he looked around him. He wanted out. Really badly. It was larger and there were people with him, but it was still closed off and suffocating. With a small way out. They had to get moving and get someone outside.

He slowly turned towards the frightened group behind him. This was one of those few moments he actually felt really tall. Warrick had him beat; Grissom and Greg were pretty damn close if not worst with shoes. Hell, even the female CSI's were tall. But now with these teenagers, he was the one looking down on the top of their heads.

"Okay, we need to get down there. Take your time, watch your footing. Real easy to twist an ankle or something."

Natalie sniffled and looked up, "Who's going out?"

"Have to get down there and take a look, won't we."

The Texan turned back towards the mess he had been a part of and began to force his feet to move forward. His feet had minds of their own. It was enough to make sure he didn't fall flat on his face. The rubber band that had wrapped around his chest was getting tighter.

Warrick reached out a hand to steady Nick as he stumbled. The extra weight of his friend pulled his body forward, adding stress to his leg. It was enough to remind the taller CSI that his muscles were going to need a long vacation after this.

"Okay, bro?"

"Yeah, yeah," Nick brushed his hands off, coughing slightly.

Out of the girls, Susie was the first to reach the three men. Her eyes were large in the dim lighting as she looked over the hole. Slowly, her left hand reached forward as if she was going to touch something new and special. But her arm stopped short.

Amber took up space at her left, Natalie to the right. Different emotions were present, but fear was strong on both feminine faces. And understanding came clear onto Natalie's.

"So, who wants to try first?" Brass asked quietly, trying to not scare them anymore.

It was Amber that stepped forward first, "I'll try."

Nick suddenly got a chill up and down his spine. It caused his shoulders to shutter. His face scrunched up in confusion at the sudden bodily reaction. Sure, this was nothing new. As his mother had always said, someone was probably talking about him in either anger, jealously, or deep concern. But it was an odd time. He shrugged it off.

"Once you get through, we'll pass you my light," Brass explained, looking Amber right in the eye, "And wait until someone else joins you. Then make your way to the police station. Let them know what has happened and that we need immediate help here."

"Y-y-yes sir."

Her voice got caught up on her gasp. Though Nick could hardly blame her considering. She was doing well, brave face on now as she turned towards the tiny exit. It was a slight upward climb, then forward. Brass and Warrick helped to steady her as she arranged her arms into the space. Nick found himself turning away with a grimace.

It was tiny and rough. Amber grunted as she pushed her body upward, ramming her shoulders forward. A rock pulled at her cloths, but she squirmed away from it. Large hands helped hold her legs, her feet. They gave her something to push against as her hands scrambled for holds. A slight cry of energy and Amber was suddenly tumbling forward towards the ground.

"She's through," Warrick breathed in relief as he wiped at his forehead.

Turning his eyes back towards the proceedings, Nick watched as Natalie gently pushed Susie forward, a smile on her face. The other girl didn't bother saying anything, just got herself ready as she waited for Brass to pull back from where he was handing over the flashlight.

"Ready?"

It seemed that Warrick was looking straight at Nick when the question was asked. Nick could sense that it was partly for him, but for the life of him couldn't figure out why. But those green eyes stayed on his face for a moment longer as Susie moved into place.

She was a little larger than Amber, her way not as easy. Brass grunted as her foot slipped and knocked him in the chest. He slapped a palm on the flat of her foot and let her push off it. She had to twist and pull a little more. But she got out as well.

Both faces remained at the other side of the hole for a minute. The flashlight was one, their faces eerily lit up from underneath. Their hair was quickly getting plastered against their scalps as the rain fell from the sky to wash them.

Brass grinned a little, "Good luck, kids."

Then they were gone. Warrick took a deep breath and moved his hands to his lower back. His pelvic muscle shifted forward, a twinge of pain running from his toes to his shoulders. But there was a weight gone that he hadn't realized was even there. Help would be coming soon.

"Well, no point to stay in here. Should head back and check on Greg."

Nick nodded. He wanted to sit back down. His eyes were getting heavy and his head was really starting to hurt. It was too much at that moment to remain upright on his feet. And it seemed he wasn't fooling anyone by the two critical looks he was now getting. Nick turned his attention to Natalie to escape them.

She was hugging herself tightly as she starred at the place her two classmates had just left her through. Her body was tight as Nick rested a hand on her shoulder to help divert her attention. He could have sworn she truly had jumped a foot into the air in surprise. But she didn't make a single sound. Only turned and headed towards the band room door.

"Come on Nick. Have to take a look at that cut of yours," Brass mumbled as he moved to follow after the girl.

"Yeah man. Ya need to get off your feet for a bit. Let's go."

Now Nick had Warrick's hand on his shoulder to get him into motion. But he didn't jump. No, he didn't have the energy to do anything than let his form be moved around. And to concentrate on where he was walking. One serious cut was enough for one night.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg tapped his fingers on the table that rested under the dying body of the band director. He was used to dead people for the most part, but the dying people issue was still something he didn't like. There was no way to know what was going on in the band room, but he sure hoped it was something good. Greg was worried he would lose it if Warrick and Nick walked back in with all three girls.

His attention was drawn to Andrew as the cop moved the injured man's arm a little. A small groan escaped the man, but his eyelids didn't even flutter even in his pain. Greg didn't want to know what was wrong with him. It would only make his worry more and feel even worse.

"You think someone got out?"

The quiet question forced Andrew to move his eyes up slowly to look at Greg's drawn face. He searched his brain for any reassuring and hopeful lies, but was coming up short. Nothing he could say would work. He didn't believe in any of it enough to pull it off.

"No idea, man. Just have to wait and see."

"How?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow at the quick, new question, "What do you mean?"

"How can you say that and look so positive about all of this?"

"You really think I look positive? Cause, man Greg, I'm shaking in my shoes right now. I've been through a lot of shit in my time, but this is defiantly new enough to cause a little fear. Just have to shove it down and not let it rein."

The CSI downcast his eyes as he thought about it, "And the kids, huh."

"Yeah, that too. Always have to be strong for others. They're looking at us for what they should do. Have to be good role models and such."

Greg could hear the slight grin at the end of the response. He didn't know if the boys could hear what him and Andrew were talking about since they were having their own little discussion. But he wasn't about to risk raising his voice much.

"If we're role models man, something is terribly wrong in the world."

"What?" Andrew sat down in another chair across the table from Greg, "Ya think we'd be that bad? Hell, I think we could do some good."

A snort and a grin erupted from Greg, "Yeah, maybe with a puppy, dude. But not with a person."

"Hmm, well...I had a puppy once. Damn thing ate my favorite pair of shoes. He lives with my sister now. Now, he's the perfect dog."

"Just like you to mess up a dog, Andy."

Both men chuckled softly, "You have any pets Greg?"

But the question was put on hold by Sam walking over to the table, his face set in distress. Andrew was worried at once that he had been injured somehow and needed some help. A quick look over him proved to show he was free of blood. Maybe he was just nervous.

"I gotta use the restroom."

Greg looked confused for a second before his thoughts cleared, "Oh, yeah. Bathroom is good, man. Just be careful and don't go anywhere else."

Sam nodded and moved quickly towards the door. He brushed through just as Natalie was making her way in. More voices in the hallway proved that the guys were on their way as well. Greg exhaled in pure exhalation as he didn't see anymore teenage girls burst in.

"Think we should have let him go alone?"

It was a logical question. Greg just didn't know how to answer it.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The night air was chilly. It caused goose bumps to form with great definition over the thin arms and necks. Their feet moved quickly, barely leaving any impressions in the earth. If someone had been following them, they left no tracks to be of much help. But the ground was too muddy for anything to matter anyways.

Winds rushed, pushed, and stabbed as the girls jogged down the deserted street. The beam of the flashlight bounced with each movement, giving a sad beckon to what might be in their path. But neither dared to slow their steps. It wasn't a short walk to the police station from the school.

Several cars were turned in odd directions, a Focus on its roof, tires helpless in the air. A tree had been uprooted and tossed into a living room of a small ranch house. A pink flamingo hung from a dangling telephone wire.

Small eyes darted around looking for any form of danger. Both girls weren't going to go all girly and just simply run stupid like all those blondes in the scary movies. They were going to use their heads and get help in a timely manner.

Sirens sounded, red and blue lights were up ahead, around the corner. Footsteps became quicker. Eyes widened, breath became harder as they moved along. This was better than having to go all the way to the station. A police car was almost to the corner. Help was just up and around the bend.

There were suddenly two gasps. Two thuds. Nothing, but the sound of rain and a sudden panting. The rain water carried the crimson blood towards the sewer as it flowed from two different wounds.

Blue and red lights continued to flash. But the car turned away and went down the other part of the street. Headlights never lit up this part of the street.

Breathing stopped before there was a chance to call out. The panting slowed and a smile formed. White teeth flashed in the beam of light that was now facing backwards. A figure moved quickly away. Back towards the school.

***

Next part of And the Thunder Rolls.

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