Previous part of And the Thunder Rolls.

***

#9: And the lightnin' flashes in her eyes...

There were tiny people in his brain. Lots of them. They were waging war with every one of his brain cells. And his little warriors were failing in the line of duty. White flags were being raised, cellular hands high in the air.

Nick groaned as he forced himself to keep moving forward. His brain was trying to free itself from his scalp with each move he made. The temping chair that Andrew had vacated was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen before. It was just too far away. It was really unfair.

A hand had recently taken place around his upper arm, helping him to move along. Under normal circumstances, it would have been shaken off and commented upon. But now, Nick was well aware that it was the only thing keeping him grounded, in reality. He wanted nothing more than to take a long, work free vacation from his body.

A voice wafted through the fog, "Come on, Nicky. Almost there. Keep walking."

The chair was solid under his hand, his grip. He shifted his weight and let the chair take hold of it. His brown eyes closed the minute the stress was off his legs and lower back. Nothing was given any thought, just completely ignored as he creaked and settled.

Fingers pulled at the waist of his shirt. It tickled and allowed cool air to touch the warm skin of his stomach. Brown eyes opened to slivers and looked straight into concerned green ones. A sigh escaped his lips and his head rolled backward a little as Warrick moved his shirt up some more.

"Need ya to lean back a little. Can't see the wound from this angle, man."

Warrick kept his voice low, his body shielding Nick from curious, young eyes. The boys were all trying to see what was wrong with the two CSI's. It was always intriguing to young boys to see wounds and blood. And here were some prime ones for examination.

Reaching up to undo the jean button and zipper once again, Warrick studied Nick's face. A flush of color not related to pain washed over the pale cheeks. Muttering a quick apology for this, Warrick tugged open the flaps and pulled the fabric downward a little. The blood was fresh and shinny where once white, flat cloth was.

"Damn man. Why the hell didn't you say anything about this?"

"And do what about it?" Nick mumbled.

"Could have done something. Now, just try to relax."

It was easier said than done. As the cloth of the gauze was pulled away from the lips of the ripped flesh, Nick hissed out the lung full of air he had been holding. The heat raised right off the new and old blood alike. Warrick almost couldn't bring himself to touch it to take a look at it.

His long fingers gently probed the outer ridges, trying to make certain nothing was stuck inside causing it to bleed so much. From what he could tell, it was clear. Nick just needed to chill for a bit and not move around so much. It may have a chance to stop bleeding then.

"Done yet, 'Rick?"

Nick's blood stood out on the denim of his own jeans as Warrick raised his eyes to look at his friend, "Yeah, not much I can do for it. Going to change the bandages though. Don't move."

He didn't wait for a response as Warrick stood and looked for the first aid kit that they had found earlier. It was on the floor underneath the table. The still man on top didn't move or even comment as Warrick reached down to grab up more bandages and tape. He looked down at the music director as he turned to move away. Mr. Kentwood looked as good as dead.

"You sleeping again?"

Nick grunted as he shifted his head, eyes still closed, "Shut up. Just hurry up. Its cold in here and my pants are open."

"Thought you always wanted your pants open. Keeps the ladies looking for more."

"How many ladies you see in here, bro? And I have no desire to go to jail for tempting a minor. Just slap that crap on there and button me back up."

"Didn't even buy me a drink first," Warrick shook his head.

"You never picked a bar. Not my fault."

The white bandages quickly turned pink, but Warrick didn't let it bother him too much. He just needed to get this done and rest himself. Once the tape was applied and pressed tight, Warrick helped Nick adjust his jeans so they could be zipped and buttoned once again. He stood quietly noticing Nick's chin was resting forward towards the broad chest. Nick was quickly falling asleep.

He rested a gentle hand on the Texan's shoulder, "Nick...Nick. You don't wanna fall asleep on this chair. Let's get ya propped up on the floor."

There was no respond other than a grunt and a mumbling of pale lips. Warrick looked around him and saw the pile that the kids had created with their stuff. He walked slowly towards it, looking over it with a calculating look.

"Hey guys, any of you mind if I use some of your stuff?"

"Like what?" Derek asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing big, dude. Just want to get something soft for my buddy to sit on when I move him to the floor."

Natalie shoved the taller boy away from her as she glared at them, "You guys are such jerks. Sure, use what you need."

The CSI smiled slightly and nodded at the young girl. He crouched down slowly, painfully and reached out a hand to ruffle through the belongings spread out. There was a jacket and a sweater. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to ease the stiffness of the tiling. He pulled both out and shuffled over to Nick,

On the other side of the table, there was an open space of wall and floor. He laid out the clothing and stood. His leg muscles pulled at all the movement he was putting them through. Warrick was beginning to think he would need to take a load off with his partner before they did anything else in this place.

Warrick headed over to where Nick was beginning to lean forward on the chair he was sitting on. The Texan had nodded off, breaths soft and slow. He didn't react as Warrick rested a hand on his shoulder. Nor to the small shake his body received. It wasn't until Warrick leaned forward and spoke right into his ear.

"Nick! Hey man!"

It was only three words, not said all that loudly, but it was enough to almost get Nick to jump straight off the chair, "Wha...?"

The grip on his shoulders was tight, but it kept him from hitting the floor. It seemed he needed lots of help lately to stay off the floor. A temper had built up on his little nap it seemed and now it was erupting through his entire being. This was not his idea of fun at all.

"Let go, Warrick. Don't need your help."

This was something Warrick wasn't prepared for. His hands were roughly shaken off, body falling forward a little. Anger filled the brown eyes that were narrowing right before him. This really wasn't something he was ready for.

"Bro? Just want to help ya to get off the chair and onto the floor. That way you can take a nap, get some rest."

"Don't! I don't need your help, again. Just drop it."

"Oh please. Don't start this shit again, Nick. All I wanna do it help you sit on the floor. That's not a crime, man."

"I can do it myself if it's such a big deal."

Nick started to push himself up when Brass and Andrew walked over to see what the problem was. They had heard the two CSI's voices getting louder by the second. Brass was worried they were going to start fighting. Neither would be able to stand it if this resulted in fists. He wanted to put a stop to it if at all possible.

"What's wrong with you two?"

"Nothing," Nick grumbled as he managed to get to his feet, waving around only a little. He could sense the strong hands waiting to catch him, ready for anything.

Andrew frowned, "Then what's with all the yelling? You two have been off since we got here."

"Let's not right now," Warrick shook his head, "Not in front of the kids. Have to look united for them."

They all knew that was true, but Greg couldn't help feeling a little upset. It was so close to coming to the surface. All he wanted to know was what was wrong with his two coworkers. This was getting bad when they fought over the tiniest things. Something was going to happen if they didn't let it all out.

"What're you doing Nick?"

Greg's eyes followed Nick's slow progress towards a small clothing pile on the floor. He hadn't seen anyone put that there. He had been helping with the checking over the kids while the two cops worked over the music director. And, he was timing Sam, but not telling anyone that.

"Told to get my ass off the chair and onto the floor. Working on it."

The words were pushed out past the rasps for breath. It was harder than it had looked to begin with. Nick was beginning to yearn to ask for that unwanted, undesired help. But his pride slammed those thoughts right down into the floor. He was sick of needing Warrick to do everything for him. It was bad enough that he couldn't change his own bandages.

Both articles of clothing were thin from where Nick looked down upon them. But as he lowered his bulk, they proved to be even worse. Other than taking away the chill of the tile, there was really no point to having these things spread out underneath him. But he knew better than to say anything. Nick really didn't want to fight anymore. It was hard enough to keep his eyelids open.

"Alright there, man?" Warrick asked, full of caution.

Nick let his eyelids win the battle and close down tightly over his eyes, "Just fine."

There was no emotion in those words. That worried everyone more than if they were said in anger, happiness, or contempt. It was never a good sign when Nick closed off enough to blank out his voice. Their normally emotional charged friend was turning away.

Brass could sense that Warrick wished to talk with Nick a little so he turned the other two men away, "Greg, Andy. We need to figure out what to do while we wait. Let's talk."

Using the tone of the command, neither asked any questions. Greg offered a supportive grin to Warrick before he moved away. Taking the only unoccupied space left in the room, the two cops and the young CSI were close enough to help, but far enough to be out of the way.

Looking down at Nick, Warrick shuffled to the man's right side and lowered himself to the floor. His legs rejoiced at this little respite from having to move around so much. Warrick didn't consider the fact that he would be stiffer than hell soon for quicker than a blink. Nick's pinched face drew his attention first and foremost.

"You want to tell me what's up?"

A breath escaped through flared nostrils, "Not really. Just want to rest a little, man. Not the best company right now."

It was a fact, but it still didn't please Warrick. He leaned back a little more, his shoulder brushing against Nick's. He was extremely thankful when his partner didn't pull away from him. In fact, Nick seemed to lean a little more on the extra support offered. Warrick grinned and closed his own eyes. The ground was hard, but it still felt good.

"As soon as your ready to talk 'bout this, I'll be ready."

But the words fell on sleeping ears. Nick's head slid sideways, causing it to crash softly against Warrick's neck and shoulder. Shifting a little, Warrick managed to get Nick's head fully on his left shoulder, his own arm helping to keep the other man still. This is what his partner needed. Not thinking too much, Warrick let himself drift off. The waiting would be easier.

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

Greg shifted around as he looked over at the two sleeping CSI's on the floor. He knew they needed that little respite, but he couldn't help to think that they needed to be awake and alert. The two cops were talking, filling the background with noise that he couldn't bring himself to listen fully to. Only when a name was mentioned did Greg give any thought to it.

He also kept checking his watch. The three and the girl had returned to the room longer than ten minutes ago, though he wasn't quite sure on the exact figure. But, that was when Sam had left the room. No way had it taken a guy that long to hit the bathroom and come back.

"Greg?"

His attention was wrapped around the new sound and pulled him into the present, "Huh?"

"You all there, man?" Andrew chuckled at the confused look he received from the younger man. He had been watching the CSI and noticed that something was bothering him and it wasn't the two men on the other side of the room.

"Yeah, just fine. Just drifting, I guess."

Brass coughed and cocked his head to the side, "Care to share."

It wasn't a question. Never meant to be one. This was an order given from Detective Jim Brass.

"Just wondering what's taking Sam so long."

"Sam? One of the kids?"

It suddenly hit the two that Brass hadn't really been present for the exit of Sam from the room. Greg couldn't even really remember Brass getting a look at the kid as he slipped out into the hallway. And from the glare he was getting, he was now sure of it.

"Where is he?"

"He asked to go the bathroom," Andrew pulled at his shirt collar a little as the temperature in the room sudden shot up a few degrees, "And since it's in working order, we let him go."

"Without an escort?"

"Not a date," Greg mumbled under his breath to himself.

"What was that, Sanders?"

"Nothing, just that we didn't think it was a big deal. All he was supposed to do is run in there and back. Lickity-split and all."

Brass sudden felt old and worn, "In a school where there is severe damage, people possibly dead, and unsafe structures, you let a teenage boy wander off all by himself."

"Yeah..."

Both younger men shrank under the tone and look Brass was handing down. Greg had questioned the idea before, but neither had put much thought into it past that. It was supposed to be just a quick bathroom run. No need for make up.

"You two idiots better go look for him then. I'll stay here with them. Get 'im and get the hell back here."

Not sparing another word, Brass walked away towards the vacated chair. He had nothing more to say to those two boys about this matter. They were going to have to find the boy and make sure he hadn't gotten into any trouble on this bathroom run. He shook his head as he sat down. 'Ridiculous.'

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

Andrew led the way from the room, his steps quick. He had an idea from listening to the other talk, which door the small bathroom was behind. Sure enough, he found it with no trouble. His fist lifted and rapped hard against the door.

"Sam? Hey man? You in there?"

He held his breath, listening hard for anything. No voices, no running water, nothing was coming from behind the door. Andrew looked over his shoulder at Greg's wide eyes before he reached down to grab the handle. It opened with ease.

The room was dark on the other side. Greg pushed his way past Andrew and walked into the small confines first. His eyes swept over every surface. It was the sink that caught his attention. While it was perfectly logical, but unsanitary, the sink was bone dry.

"I don't think he was in here. Sink's dry."

"Teenager. Washing hands is something outside most of their vocabulary."

"I dunno. These are proper kids in a proper school. I'd think they knew something that simple."

"No sigh on the door saying please wash hands before returning to class. Possible the kid just wanted to get out of here right away and take a look around. Something might be troubling him about something."

The way the cop said the last sentence caught Greg's attention fully, "You think he did it?"

"He was kinda quiet through it all and suddenly, he needed to run to the bathroom. Personally, all my bladder functions left the scene once the sound of the tornados hit."

Greg thought about it for a second too and realized he hadn't needed to answer the call of nature yet. And it had been a few hours since he had last done so. He thought that after a traumatic event, everyone had to pee. Seems it wasn't true. No one, but Sam had said anything about it and it was a good deal of time later.

"Where'd you think he is?"

"Band room," Andrew said with no thought. That's where he would want to go right away. It was the only place with a portal to the outside world. Even if the boy couldn't get through it, seeing it was the next best thing.

Glancing back at the sink, Greg nodded, "Alright, let's check it out. I don't want to see Brass again empty handed."

The two men walked out of the room before Andrew suddenly stopped and turned around, back towards the bathroom. Greg watched with interest as the cop propped the door open with the garbage can. Now anyone could see fully into the room, no hidden corners. Greg raised an eyebrow.

"What? Now we will be able to tell if anyone goes in there or not. Just shut up, Greg."

Slapping the other man's shoulder, Andrew got them moving along. His feet felt heavy, but he kept them working. They needed to find that boy. They needed to figure out what was going on. They needed a plan.

***

#10: And he knows that she knows...

Nick walked to his fridge and pulled open the door. The blast of cold air was enough for his arm flesh to goose bump even against the air conditioning already running. He had never kept it that cold in his house no matter what the temperature outside was. Growing up in Texas had thinned his blood too much and he couldn't take a lot of cold air rushing around him.

The neck of the beer bottle felt good against the roughness his hands. His last case had been a hard one, beat up bad on his hands. Nick never liked have to work to the point where his hands hurt like hell when he got home. It wasn't like he was a mechanic or something. CSI work wasn't supposed to be this hard on the hands, only the brain.

He threw his head back, opening up his throat to the rush of dark beer. Sure, it was early morning and most people wouldn't dream of taking a beer out like this, but Nick needed something to help calm his nerves a little. Not that he was going to have more than one. Getting drunk was never his prerogative. The last time had proved to be bad enough for him. Warrick had to come to his house and baby-sit him then. Never again. Not like that.

After finishing his extremely large swallow, Nick wiped the back of his left hand across his mouth and set the beer down on the counter. His townhouse looked dirty as he swept his eyes around. He had the next shift off. It would be the perfect time to catch up on some simple chores.

Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, Nick walked out of the kitchen and headed down his hallway to his bedroom. He had dressed comfortably for work, but all he wanted to do right then was get out of those clothes and into his down clothes. They were laying out on the bed waiting for him. It was something he had gotten into the habit with. Never wanted to hunt down clothes once he got home.

Nick peeled the shirt from his body, sticking in some places from old sweat. The jeans rolled off, left on the floor in a pile. Looking down at his torso, Nick grimaced. He needed to take a quick shower. Maybe then he would feel more human. Scratching at his bare stomach, Nick walked out of the bedroom and crossed the hall to his bathroom.

His blue towel hung on the rail waiting for him. Pulling off the last item of clothing he had left, Nick jumped under the warm spray of water. Not wasting much time, Nick did the essentials then jumped back out. Toweling dry, he did feel a little more relaxed. Now, maybe he could watch that new Discovery Channel DVD, eat some breakfast, and get some sleep.

Hanging the towel back up, Nick walked back into his bedroom to pull on the new clothes waiting for him. They felt crisp and clean against his skin. Now he felt more like himself. It made him smile. Nothing big, but it was a smile.

Nick left his dirty clothes where he left them. Since he would be cleaning up the place later, he could handle that then. Besides, his stomach was beginning to rumble. All he had during that last shift was an apple and a protein shake. Seems that sustenance was now completely used and gone.

Reopening his fridge after another swallow of beer, Nick found a white Styrofoam container holding his leftovers from two nights ago. Opening the package, the Mexican food filled his senses. Even cold and slightly old, it seemed good. He pulled the burritos out and placed them on a plate. It fit in the microwave with ease. Now all he had to do was wait.

He grabbed his beer and pulled out some more of the liquid. Thinking to himself, he suddenly remembered he still had some of his mother's salsa left. He quickly pulled the jar out along with a package of shredded cheese. This was going to be a leftover meal for a king. Nick couldn't help, but to feel a little excited.

Once his food was ready, Nick carried the plate on a pot holder out to his living room, beer in the other hand. He placed them both on his living room table before straightening up and heading over to his entertainment system. The DVD was on top of the player. It was one he had been waiting to see since he had seen a preview commercial for it. It was a regional informational video on Nevada bird species.

Nick set things up with all the remotes he needed and got the movie going. The back of the case said it was two hours long. Should be enough time to relax and prepare for bed. It was perfect. He headed back to his couch, grabbing his fork, ready to eat. The doorbell interrupted him.

Sighing and throwing down the fork, Nick put his hands on his knees and got off the couch. He walked slowly towards his door, wondering who the hell would be there at this time in the day. No one had said anything at the lab. But he stopped thinking as he opened the door.

"Hey man. Didn't interrupt ya did I?" Warrick asked, his hands in his pockets.

"Nah, just sat down for some breakfast. Not going to bed quite yet. Come on in."

Nick moved to the side of the door to allow his friend to walk into the room. He closed the door and walked back over to his couch. Warrick sat himself down in one of the two chairs Nick had in his living room.

"Breakfast?" Warrick raised his eyebrows at the red and yellow concoction he could see on the blue plate. He never understood how the man could eat that stuff and still be able to move.

"Still good. And the salsa is perfect. Should try some."

"No thanks. I want Tina to kiss me when I get home. Not run the other way."

Nick laughed and reached for his fork again, "Well, I'm gonna eat it. And you need to tell me what you're doing here."

Reaching for the beer on the table, Warrick sat back in the chair and worked on finishing Nick's beverage. He had been debating the entire way over here if he really should even bring this up with his fellow CSI. Warrick knew how touchy Nick could be about his personal life. This might be territory even a best friend wasn't supposed to touch.

"Well, I know you have the next shift off. So do Tina and me. So...well, she has a friend who just moved to the area. And I was wondering if...you wanted to meet up with us and hang out."

Nick stopped in mid-chew. This was not something he had been expecting. Sure, Warrick had always given his shit about his relationships with women, but never before tried to set him up. Of course, he was never married before either.

"Hang out?"

"Yeah. Tina told her about you and she was interested in meeting you. Her name's Anna. Seems nice. So Tina wants to introduce the two of you to each other. I thought it'd be safest to do it through a double date."

"A double date?"

The taller CSI shifted uncomfortably, "Yeah. Might be fun."

"Why?"

He had really been expected a "where" instead. Warrick finally looked Nick in the eye and didn't like the emotions he found there. His friend was always honest with eyes whether he wanted to be or not. Now, it was clear Nick was confused, sad, and angry about this suggestion.

"Just wanna help you out, man. Might be good for you to get out once a'while."

Nick's face hardened, "You think? What if I don't agree with you?"

"Oh come on. Like it's healthy for you to sit at home alone all the damn time. Won't hurt you to get out there and meet knew people. Not all strangers are bad people."

"Sure, sure. No, of course not," Nick's voice drifted off at the end, eyes lost a little.

"Nick, you need to get out. Not like you'll be alone with her. I'll be there with Tina. Just dinner and maybe we can walk around. Nothing big."

"No."

Warrick really should have known this wasn't going to be easy. He had been hoping Nick would understand this was to help him, not hurt him. His best friend had developed some stranger issues and had trouble meeting new people. Nick's love life was suffering from that. Warrick just wanted to help.

"Why not? Would be good for ya."

"No," he repeated himself as he looked down at his cooling food. This was not helping him at all. Warrick wanted him to go out with a person he had never met before. No one understood why this bothered him so much. Yeah, he never really told them, but he didn't think he had to. Anyone could be a person that would shove a gun in your face, stalk you, or shove you in a glass coffin. Nick wasn't willing to go searching for it when that stuff found him so well on its own.

"I just don't want to, man. Just leave it alone."

Warrick was beginning to get angry, "Why? You just want to sulk around here all the time. You never go out with any of us anymore, man."

"Not difficult when no one has time to 'hang' out with me, Warrick."

It was true. With everyone moving quickly to get away from the trauma they all had suffered at the hands of that mad man, Nick had been left in the dust. Warrick couldn't say he still hung out with his best friend as much as he did before he was married. And none of the others from the lab went out of their way to have group breakfasts or lunches anymore. Now they only seemed to see each other when that time was involved with work.

"So, when I make the effort and reach out, you push me away. Nice, bro."

"Oh, don't bro me," Nick had to stand up as his anger rose, "I simply said I don't want to go on a double date with this girl. Not that big of a deal. I don't need you to set me up. Just let me be."

He stomped out of the room into the kitchen. Now he was going to have to have a second beer. But the fridge door was being held closed by Warrick's hand. Nick glared at the appendage before raising his eyes to meet his so-called friend's.

"What?"

"You're not going to drink this one away. Just admit you need to get out of here. I'm going to help you whether you want me to or not."

"Don't need you help. Didn't ask for your help. You can just leave if you're going to keep it up."

"Fine. I won't help you again. Just sit here and wallow in your stupidity. Die alone if you want."

Warrick threw up his hands and turned away from Nick. He walked with long steps to the front door. As he opened it, he looked back. Nick hadn't moved from the spot he had left. The Texan's eyes were on the floor. Warrick knew he should say something, but couldn't bring himself to think of something right then. His irrational anger had taken control. He would only make it worst. So he let himself out of the townhouse.

The door shut hard. Nick looked up and groaned. This really wasn't something he had wanted to deal with. But he knew it was stupid and there was no reason for them to fight over it. Now it was too late to take anything back. They both said dumb things and pissed each other off.

He looked over at the meal he had been excited about. Now all it did was turn his stomach. Nick shook his head and walked over to the television. Once everything was turned off, he turned around and left things as they were. Now all he wanted to do was sleep and forget this had ever happened.

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

That had happened a week ago, but Nick couldn't stop the memories from filtering into his dreams. He had thought long and hard about that night, but couldn't come up with a decent way to fix things. He and Warrick had gone on like it never happened. But now everyone could see the tension that that night had created. Nick's face frowned in his sleep.

There was something warm and heavy resting up against him. Or, he was leaning against something warm and heavy. Nick was still too asleep to think much about it. He let the thoughts die into blackness. His body hurt too much to dwell on it anymore. Rest was what he needed now.

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

Andrew whistled as he took in the mess that the band room was. This was destruction at its finest. He hadn't seen the room since before the tornadoes had hit. Now that he had, he was really glad that he had been babysitting the kids when it all went down.

Greg shook his head, one hand rising to rest against the back of it, "Where is he?"

"No clue. Not too many places to hide in here," Andrew walked a little further into the room. His head moved from side to side looking for any movement. That kid wasn't in here either. But it didn't make any sense. This was the one place with a way out. Why not here?"

"Well, shit. Now what do we do?"

"Hope Brass doesn't kill us," Greg tried to sound humorous, but it sounded fake to him. He was sure that Andrew heard right through it.

He didn't want to go back to tell the detective they hadn't found the kid. That was not something that would be good for his health. And Greg wanted to know where that little brat had run off to anyways. This was not somewhere to run around in alone. Unless there was something that one needed to do alone.

"He will. Even if we find the kid, he'll lecture us into next year."

"Thanks, Andy. Made me feel so much better. Don't take it up as a job."

"Shut up, man," Andrew groaned and turned around to face Greg again, "Where the hell is he?"

The cop threw his arms out from his body and looked around. He was losing his control on the situation. Andrew never hated anything besides not knowing what was happening. Now, Sam was still missing and Brass was pissed off.

"Think we could weasel our way out that hole?" Andrew tossed his head to the side.

Greg grinned, "Really don't want to deal with Brass, huh?"

"What'd you think?"

Both men grinned and looked around them a little more. They both knew they had to move on, but were afraid to leave the room. Once they left, they would have to go back into that other room. Where Brass was waiting. And they didn't have anything good to report.

"Alright. Enough bullshitting around. Let's go."

Andrew walked past the CSI, shoulders brushing slightly. It was enough to get Greg to turn and follow. His mind was running rapid with ideas on what Sam could be off doing. Greg was coming up sadly short. There wasn't anything left that a teenage boy could possible want.

As Andrew reached the door of the room, he took one step out into the hallway. Greg was right behind him, he could hear the other man's breathing. He looked down the hallway, forehead crinkled in a frown. The lights slammed off. He heard Greg gasp. His own blood went cold.

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

Brass stood to the side in the room, taking in everything around him. For some reason, he had to know what everything was in this place. The kids, the CSI's, the tables. It was all categorized in his mind. This helped him from getting any amount of panic in his blood. Brass was not going to look a fool in front of anyone.

He looked over at Nick and Warrick. They were both asleep, deeply at that. He couldn't help, but to smile at the sight. Both were injured and needed to take a break. Maybe once they were awake, they would be useful again. The frown that had taken place on Nick's face worried him a little. At one point, it looked as if the Texan would wake up, but never did.

The teenagers were all in different stages of boredom. A card game had started again between Derek and Kevin. Brass couldn't tell what game it was. It was quick and they were silent about it. Only sharp glances and hand gestures went between the two boys. They seemed to know each other. But Brass was sure these kids weren't friends. Just band members. Maybe he was wrong.

Kyle was sitting on the floor now, back resting against the wall. It appeared he was taking the hint from the two CSI's and was trying to get some sleep. His head was leaning forward, bangs resting over his eyes so Brass couldn't see much of his face. But since the kid was asleep, he wasn't too worried about him at the moment.

As for the girl, Natalie was squirming around in her chair. She would find one position for a few minutes then shift into a different one. Her legs contorted under her body, between flesh and plastic. Females could move and bend in ways that just shocked Brass' mind. There was no way he would ever be able to sit like that, even on a couch.

Her eyes kept darting over to look at him as if she were debating whether she could come over and ask a question. It was in big, bright lights over her head. Natalie had something she needed to ask, but couldn't work up the courage to approach the scary looking cop. It looked to Brass that she finally won that courage as she got up from the chair and shuffled over to him.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" he kept his voice low and soft. Now that she was standing in front of him, he wasn't going to do anything to scare her off.

"Um...would it possible..."

She was shy. Her question ended before the older man could even think of what she wanted. Brass kept his eyes wide in question as he looked down at her. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she chewed on her lower lip.

"Could I...use...the restroom?"

It was quiet and she leaned forward with every word she spoke. His face broke into a small grin at the unease the girl had with asking him that. But then he remembered what happened the last time when one of these kids asked that question. There was no way she was going to go alone.

"Alright, but not alone," Brass stood completely upright and looked over at the boys, "Kevin, get over here."

The boys stopped their game and both lifted their heads. Both wore looks of confusion, but seeing the look Brass was giving them, Kevin jumped out of his chair. The boy walked quickly over and stood looking at the ground.

"You're going to go with her."

"To where?" Kevin hadn't heard anything Natalie had said since she moved over to ask Brass her question.

"She needs to use the restroom. You're going with."

Both faces turned crimson at the thought, "Not together. Stand outside the door while the other is in there. We'll send everyone, but in shifts and groups of two."

Brass wiped at his forehead as the kids still kept the blushes on their cheeks. He had to keep reminding himself that kids today thought of things differently than he had when he was young. Too much television and music videos. He shook his head.

"You two think you can handle that?"

Natalie nodded, "Yes. I need to go now."

"Alright. Five minutes and I want you two back here. I'm going to stay in the doorway. You two go anywhere else, I'll know."

They nodded and moved to leave. Brass was right on their heels. He watched them walk down the hallway towards the single bathroom. Natalie opened the door and shut it quickly in Kevin's face. The boy stuck his tongue out at the wooden barrier and leaned against the wall next to it.

Brass leaned back into the room and look at everyone else. Derek was watching him with calm eyes. Everyone else was still sleeping. Nick and Warrick never even flinched when the power to the room shut off, bathing them all in black darkness. Brass cursed and felt for his light. He didn't have it. It was lost in the dark. Along with the other people in the room.

***

#11: She reaches for the pistol...

The town was in complete shambles. Catherine sat completely still in the passenger seat, starring out the window trying to take in everything. The destruction was nothing like she was expecting. She had seen several trees missing several limbs to being completely uprooted. Cars were dented, windshields shattered, and large paint scratches.

Houses were in different stages of tragedy. There was one that looked like someone took a shovel right through the center of it. Catherine was sure she had seen the toilet as they drove past, but was too shocked to ask Grissom to slow down or even stop. They had already lost enough time having to reroute so they would be able to get to the police station.

And her company for this little journey was completely silent. The supervising CSI hadn't said anything since they walked out the lab doors. Catherine didn't even think she had even heard him breathe heavier than normal. Her breathing had been loud enough for the both of them.

From what she knew of this city, they were close. They should arrive in less than five minutes if they didn't have to make anymore detours. She wanted nothing more than to get out of that damn SUV so she could get the answers to all the questions that were swimming through her brain. Nothing was going to stop her from getting them.

The station was soon in her sights. Her back straightened up more, her fingers started drumming on her pant leg. Now she heard the slight sigh from the man sitting next to her. Catherine swiveled her eyes over to see if she could figure out what emotion she had missed from that noise. Grissom was giving her nothing. It was typical. Her knee started bouncing.

"What're you thinking?"

It caught Grissom off guard, though all he showed for it was a quick raise of his eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on," her breath escaped in a rush of words, "We're about to find out about the guys. You have to be thinking something."

Grissom starred straight forward, not making any more to glance at the blonde woman sitting next to him. He had been thinking during the entire drive. There hadn't been one moment where his mind wasn't pulled from the focus of driving. But he had no skills in getting those thoughts into words. They were never supposed to leave the safety of his mind.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" The disgust and sarcasm was ripe in her voice. There were too many times that Catherine wanted nothing more than to slap Grissom across the back of the head. Her friend really knew how to wear on her nerves like no one else.

The SUV pulled smoothly into the parking spot. Grissom opened his door and stepped out without offering a single word back to Catherine. He could hear her mumbling in frustration and the truck shook behind him with the power she used to close the door. Shaking his head, he walked after the blonde hurricane.

Catherine didn't bother to keep quiet as she entered the station. She looked quickly around the room, by passing the front desk girl with ease. A uniform and a frown directed her attention. Her feet carried her forward without any thought.

A small, feminine voice tried to break her gait, stop her in her tracks, "Excuse me? You can't go back there without clearance. Excuse me!"

But the CSI ignored her and walked right over the officer she had sighted in, "Hey. Where's the sheriff?"

Grissom followed behind her with less of a storm, merely glancing at the irate secretary. He looked at the officer that Catherine had cornered, looking very much like a deer in head lights. The man's mouth floundered at first before finding the ability to form any words.

"He's in his office...who are you people?"

Thinking fast, Grissom pulled out his badge and opened it for the other man to look at, "We're with the Vegas Crime Lab. Out guys were helping out on that case at the school."

As soon as the cop heard those words, his face lost all color. He didn't say another word, just jerked his head to say he wanted them to follow him. Catherine bolted and almost walked on the heels of his shoes in her hurry. The lack of words from the man had he concern bumping up a few notches.

They weaved through numerous officers, some laughing and joking with each other as if the world outside the walls wasn't in chaos. Grissom had always wondering how people would act upon the end of the world. If this little scenario had any merit at all, he would have to say with a smile and a laugh. He shook his head and swallowed back the response he knew he would have.

The door to the office was closed. Without even knocking, the officer opened the door and walked off before anything could be asked of him. His gait was quick, his steps loud enough to echo through the hall.

"Who is it?" The voice was gruff and impatient. It was clear the sheriff had no desire to speak with anyone at this moment. Grissom entered the room first.

"Sheriff, I'm Gil Grissom with the crime lab. This is Catherine Willows, my associate. We're looking for Detective Jim Brass and our CSI's."

The broad, tall man rubbed at his stubble covering his chin as he looked at the two people standing in front of his desk, "Call me Steve. I was on sight with your detective for a little while. Left to get back here and prepared once the weather started going to hell. Haven't seen him since."

"So, they're not here?" Catherine's voice went up an octave by the end of the short sentence.

"No. My officers arrived back here together. No one was with them. From what I was told, your people were just finishing up and would be leaving soon. No need to worry about them."

Grissom nodded his head slowly as he took everything in, "Who told you this?"

Sheriff Steven Baker looked down at his desk, at the paper he had spread out over it. His right hand reached out and pulled a random sheet out from a yellow folder. There were several different styles of handwriting all over the paper. Catherine couldn't catch a glimpse of it as the man quickly put it away once again.

"Officer Duncan was the reporting officer once they returned to the station," the sheriff got up from his chair and walked around the desk, "If you would follow me."

"He's still here?"

The other man nodded at Catherine's question as he led them out his office and left into the hallway, "I pulled all my officers in when the tornados hit. We're just getting around to cleaning things up. Had to get a hold of the fire department to get things in order. Most of my people are still here."

"The storm has been over for awhile now. Why so long?"

"We're a smaller department than that of Las Vegas, ma'am. Takes more time to get things organized and I'll admit, I don't get along with the fire chief well. Had a few disagreements on how to proceed. But I assure you, we are not letting the people of this city suffer without help. Everyone will do what they can."

The walked to what looked to be a small break room. A short man sat on the couch, head leaned back, eyes closed. His uniform still appeared to be damp. He jumped when he heard people enter and one clear their throat.

"Oh shit, Steve...um, sorry. Just needed to get my thoughts back together first, sir. I'll be on my way now."

Sheriff Baker held up his hands, stopping the officer, "Calm down for a second, Pete. Just have a couple questions for you before you head out. These are more CSI's from Vegas. Wondering where their people are."

The man stood quickly and looked at the two guests standing in the room, "I was the last officer to leave to scene from Boulder. Detective Brass told me they'd finish up soon and head back out. So, I left with the others. Never saw the CSI's though."

"How long before the storm was that?" Grissom asked quietly.

"It was getting pretty bad by the time I even got in my car. The tornados hit almost immediately after I got here. We all took cover and once it was over, I gave my report quickly so I'd be ready to head out with aid."

Catherine pulled in a shaky breath and closed her eyes. They had nothing still. Her boys were still out there somewhere. No one knew where. Acting on a limb, she walked out of the break room and pulled out her cell phone. Her fingers moved quickly over the key pad and she raised it to her ear. It rang a couple of times, enough time for her to feel Grissom move to her side.

A voice picked up on the other end. Catherine quirked up one side of her mouth, "Jacqui, its Catherine. I was calling to see....yeah, have they?...uh huh...thanks. Bye."

She flipped the phone closed and turned to look Grissom in the eyes, "No one's seen them back at the lab. Gil, they're still here somewhere."

"Alright," Grissom turned back towards the sheriff, "We need to get to that school and see if we can figure out what happened. How long?"

"Roads are pretty messed up. Not going to be a quick ride. Might have to detour a great deal. But we'll get there. Pete, go find a couple people and get set up. We have a possible rescue mission at the school."

The two CSI's could hear people moving around them, orders being given. But both were too wrapped up in their own minds. No one knew what had happened to Warrick, Nick, or Greg. Brass and Andrew were still missing as well. Catherine couldn't bear to think of all the possibilities. She wouldn't be able to bear it.

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

Brass could hear several people gasp, cry out, and shuffle around in the darkness. He reached out in front of his for the wall when a flash of light to his right caught his attention. Andrew was holding up his flashlight, pointing it at Brass' chest.

"You two okay?"

The light bobbed as Andrew nodded his head, "Yeah. We were in the doorway when the lights dropped. Greg's right behind me."

Sure enough, as Andrew took a couple of steps forward, Greg emerged from the room. The young CSI walked with large steps to keep close to the cop and his light. Both men stopped in front of the detective and Andrew pointed the light towards the ceiling, lighting up all their faces.

"I need to find my light. Not on me."

Andrew nodded and slipped past Brass into the room. He swept the room, stopping to rest on two scared teenage boys. A frown twisted up the man's lips as he did some mental math. The beam lit up Nick and Warrick next as he moved in a small circle. Warrick lifted up a hand to block out the light, but Andrew didn't wait for any more movement from the two.

"Hey. We're missing two more kids."

"Oh shit," Brass jumped into the room where he saw his own flashlight. It was on the table with the music director though he didn't remember setting it there. He shook his head and picked it up.

"Sent Natalie and Kevin to the small bathroom. I'll go check."

"Take Greg with you. I'll go check on 'Rick and Nick," Andrew moved away, into the room more, "You two kids don't move."

Derek and Kyle nodded their heads slowly, eyes still owl wide. They did get to their feet and move closer to the cop as he walked over to the CSI's. Andrew noticed they both sat in the chair by the table that their music teacher was still passed out on.

His knee popped slightly as he squatted down in front of the two men still on the floor. Warrick was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, blinking rapidly against the sudden brightness of the small beam of light.

"What happened?" his voice was rough with sleep and confusion.

"No clue, man. Lights just went bust. Oh, and we're missing three kids now. Only have two left."

"What?"

Andrew shrugged at looked at the still sleeping Nick, "You drug him or something?"

"Nah. He's just wiped out. Injured. Not a good combo. I'll get him up."

His long fingers wrapped around Nick's shoulder and Warrick pulled his arm back and forth to attempt to wake the Texan. He was rewarded with a groan and his hand shrugged off. Nick lifted his left hand to rub at the tiredness in his eyes as he slowly opened them. It was bright in one spot, dark everywhere else. He shut his eyes against it.

"Hrrmph..."

Warrick laughed at the response, "Come on, bro. Wake your ass up."

He watched with a grin on his lips as Nick shook his head and worked on pulling his eyelids open. Nick grimaced as his muscles stretched and pulled. What was the worst was that damn cut on his hip. His each ripple of his ads, his hip bones shifted and pulled at his cut. Without even realizing, his hand dropped to cover the area, to protect it.

"What happened?"

"Lights went out. Have to check it out. Brass and Greg left to find the kids?"

Nick's eyes took a look of complete confusion, "Huh? The kids?"

"Yeah, we're missing three of 'em. Sam, Natalie, and Kevin from the looks of it. Andy's gonna check on the director and then we can figure out what to do. But we need ya awake to do this."

"Working on it. Give me a minute."

"How's the wound?"

"Just dandy," Nick grunted as he worked on getting to his feet. His lower back muscles had a spasm, sending weird pains through his legs. Nick never had been one with back issues, so this was all kind of new to him. He put his hands on his hips and looked over at the table and all the people huddled around it. All high spirits were gone from this place.

Warrick got to his feet and moved over to where Andrew was standing. He didn't want to stay and wait around in this room. With a quick glance at Nick to make sure the other man was slightly distracted, he leaned closer to Andrew.

"Hey. I'm gonna go help Brass and Greg. Keep an eye on Nick and don't lose these two."

"Alright, but if he kills me, I'm going to haunt you and your bride, got it!"

"Sure. Feel free, but the bedroom and bathroom will be completely off limits."

Grinning, Warrick walked over to the table where Nick's kit still sat. He pulled it opened and squinted to see inside with the minimal light. Andrew must have seen him because the light suddenly hit him with full force. Inside, he didn't see anything, but a mess. He sighed and shook his head as he stood upright. But Warrick suddenly got an idea.

"Hey, Andy. Shine the light over there," he pointed to the spot where the kids had gotten the first aid kit. Warrick walked over and opened the cabinet again. He smiled at the sight of the three flashlights. Grabbing them all, he stood and walked over to Nick. The Texan took it, not quite sure what he was to do quite yet. Warrick put the other on the table by Andrew.

"See you guys soon," Warrick left quickly before Nick could comment or say anything. His beam was thick and unsure. He sure wished for his normal light. But it was gone, crushed.

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

Greg walked as close to Brass as he possibly could. It almost seemed easier to hop on the man's back and ask for a piggy back ride. Then all the shuffling and mumbled apologized would seem worthless. He had no idea why he was back on in this mess. With Jim Brass of all people.

The bathroom had been deserted. No one was there. Brass swore he had seen the girl go in, the boy staying outside to lean against the wall. Even with the adrenaline rush from the lights being shut down, he was sure he would have heard the door open and close. And neither of the kids passed them on their way back into the room. They were somewhere. But he was leery to call out to them.

They kept walking. Brass wanted to check to see if the generators were still working or not. Something might have just fired, or a circuit might have blown. He wasn't about to think there was no possibility to get the lights back on. It was just a pain in the ass having Greg right on his back the entire way.

"Sanders, back up. Don't need you to walk all over me," he hissed over his shoulder at the younger man.

The CSI ducked his head down, sheepish smile resting on his lips, "Sorry, just nervous."

"About what? What can possibly go wrong?"

"Not going to answer that," Greg shook his head quickly as they approached the door for the generator.

Brass reached out and opened it. He allowed the beam from his light to fill the room. There was something off, but he couldn't quite put a name to it. Something was familiar yet so unknown. It confused the detective to the point where he was rooted to the spot. Only his hand with the light and his eyes moved. It was then that he caught it.

"What's the hold up?" Greg tried to look over his shoulder into the room. He was the same height as the older man, but looking over that broad shoulder was work. It seemed that the cop was trying to shield him from something. That confused him since he had seen a lot over the past couple of years.

"Just...just stay right here for a minute."

Watching where he placed his feet, Brass slowly walked into the gloom and doom. The beam hit the floor directly in front of him, reflecting back off the tiny specks that were here and there. His right foot had to jump forward at an odd angle, but he kept up his pace.

The generators were silent. It was starting to chill now that the bolts and screws of the machines were no longer in use. He had little hope anything would work any longer. Those holes he just passed were not manufactured for this unit. Someone had gotten sloppy, but he would leave it for now.

Brass was almost to the back of the room when he stopped and turned. He was standing in complete profile to where Greg had stayed. The emotions that spread over the brow of the man were too complicated for Greg to keep up with. But he remained where he was told. Something was up.

"What'd you find?"

"Well, only two kids missing now. Watch your step," Brass swung the light back so Greg could see where to walk so they wouldn't contaminate anything.

Now it was clear to the CSI. The blood trail was sparse and splattered. It fell from a height. Something, someone, had been bleeding, but was able to stay upright. He walked almost the same as Brass had and kept his eyes down to the ground.

"Look left quick. What do you think?"

Greg stopped immediately and swiveled his head. The large machine had three holes in the keypad on its side. They were ragged and uneven. It was the lowest one that looked like it had been made last. They were small and they hadn't heard anything loud. "Knife."

"Thought so. Well, then this won't shock you too much."

The tone in the other man's voice caught Greg off guard and his steps were shakier than he would have like them to be. He was sure he was going to step right in one of the drops and drag it all around with him. Grissom would have his head for getting his kicks in the evidence. Bile rose in his throat a little as he walked to the detective's side.

Sam was positioned on his back, wedged between the two large pieced of the generator. One leg was bent at the knee and hooked around a pipe to keep the boy's body from slipping. Both arms were flung out from the torso. Eyes were wide open and glazed to a dull gray. The slash across his throat was a deep burgundy in the light of the flashlight.

"Who did this?"

It was a dumb question, but Greg couldn't stop his brain from processing it and allowing his mouth to form the words. He hadn't even dreamed that the kid would be a victim. Hell, Andrew had him believing Sam was probably the number one suspect in all this. Now he was dead, blood no longer running though his veins.

"Someone carried him in here. There blood isn't in a dragging motion across the floor," Brass grunted out. He moved the light downward a little as he thought about this. Footsteps behind the men caught them both off guard and Brass automatically reached for his weapon.

Warrick threw his hands up by his face, "Hey, whoa. Just hold it."

"Damn Warrick! Not the time to be sneaking around here. And where the hell did you get that light?"

"Wasn't sneaking. Just coming to help. Got the light from the other room," he took in both men's postures and facial expressions, "What's wrong?"

Brass cleared his throat a little, "Found Sam. Don't walk in here. Evidence."

It was Warrick's turn to take everything in from his spot in the doorway, "I thought everyone was searched by the Boulder cops? How in the hell?"

"Someone was clever. At least they don't have their gun anymore since they stashed it in that bathroom..." Greg trailed off as he looked back down at Sam, "And two that makes three that went there."

"So?"

Greg looked up at the simple question Warrick threw at him. This was not something he could process that quickly. He had been getting good at his job, getting the hand of things, but this was something he had yet to come across. Murder right under all their noses was something new to him. He didn't know what to really say.

"He was carried in here and dropped. This wasn't where was killed," Brass saved the day with his answers.

"Well, Natalie and Kevin are the only two that have been out of that room since Sam was. Possible Kevin did it?"

"Nah, not enough time from the point when I last saw him by the door and the lights went out to when we got here. Would have heard something."

"I dunno, Jim. We were all a little out of it in that blackout. Possible he moved quickly. Hell, Natalie could have helped him."

With a sigh, Brass motioned for Greg to head back out of the room. He was getting kind of edgy standing next to the kid while he was starring at them through cloudy glass. That was not his favorite thing about the dead. Everyone should die with their eyes closed.

Warrick moved aside to let them out, "Now what?"

"Now we look for two more kids. We have to lock the others in that room. No one else is allowed to leave."

"And how do you propose we pull that one off. Nick'll have our heads if we do it. Door's closed anyways from when I left," Warrick motioned to it, "And they have lights now to. Let's just try to find them before they can do anything else. At least they can't get out. Hole's too small for them."

"Alright, but we stick together. They have a knife at least on 'em. Don't want to try anything alone, no hero work."

Both CSI's nodded at the instructions from Brass. They didn't want to go running off on their own anyways. Without even mentioning another word, the three of them headed to the room directly across from them.

Brass took the lead, finally pulling out the piece he wore at his belt at all times. It leads the way into the room, the flashlight tight in the other hand. He swept them quickly around the room, noticing no people in the room. It was empty.

Another light moved past him as Warrick walked into the room. A large splash of blood was on the floor. "Seems we found the main scene. Betting he was killed in here and placed in the other room with the hopes we wouldn't notice."

"Then why wreck the generator?" Greg asked.

Warrick frowned, "You don't think they wanted this do you?"

"Could be trying to pull something. Maybe they think if they pull a stunt like this, then they can bust out of here. Don't know how though." Brass swept the room again. He didn't want to miss anything. Everything was important now.

"This room's clear. Let's check the next. We'll work the rest like this and find those little sons of bitches."

Greg hugged his arms to his chest as he stared at the blood even after the light from the flashlights was moving completely away. Two people had now been killed in these walls. Anything else could happen now. But he tried to think positive. They still had two guns, Brass' and Warrick's. Greg knew they had an edge, right?

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

Nick hit the light on the table, but the damn thing still wouldn't work. He wasn't talking to Andrew since he knew the other man was technically on babysitting duty. Being injured, he was officially labeled the invalid and couldn't do anything anymore, but sit there and wait. He hated it.

"Still won't work," Andrew tried again. He shifted in the chair he had dragged over to the table. They were all still huddled around the still form of the music director. The man's skin was blue in the light, cold to the touch even though he was still breathing.

"Oh come on, man. Don't give me that childish crap Nick."

But the Texan still ignored his and started to twist the top off the light to play with the batteries. It was giving him something to do so he didn't snap and start to yell at the cop. Or leave the room and get into more trouble at that.

Andrew's light worked, but the beam was weak. It wouldn't last forever. These were old. There was no telling how long they had been kept in this room without any use. But it was light. It helped call all their nerves a little.

"Quit playing with that thing. Not gonna work."

"I'll do as I damn well please," Nick grumbled under his breath at the other man.

The door opening slowly held off any comment Andrew wished to make to the other man. His back was to the door, the light facing inward. Andrew started to turn around slowly.

Three rapid gunshots sounded through the room. It shook eardrums, rattled teeth. Nick's eyes went wide, facing the door. It happened so quickly. His hands reached down and he felt at his chest. There was no way he was going to trust that he wasn't hit.

But it was Andrew that fell forward. Pain creasing his forehead, filling his eyes. Nick saw the feminine smile as the light from the shots faded from his eyes. No pain, just a chilling cold.

***

#12: He won't do this again...

The second room had been a bust. Nothing was stirred at all inside, no mysterious blood pools anywhere. And no god-damned kids anywhere. Brass wanted to put a couple bullets into the wall to help with the anger he could feel building up. Not that many room left that they could get to. And he was sicker than hell of seeing them over and over. He would have to see this place every time he closed his eyes over the next week. Brass just had that feeling about it.

He stomped his way to that damn band room. This was the place where this all had to begin. If someone wasn't dumb and mean enough to shoot that poor girl, none of them would be in this situation. All the detective needed and wanted was that damn bottle he still kept in that drawer, though it had been collecting dust for some time. Age always helps the finest booze. It was common knowledge.

Brass threw those thoughts into the back of his mind and forced himself back into the here and now. It was his job to get everyone out of this in one piece. He already had two injured CSI's and now one more dead kid. Lots of paperwork was going to be needed when he returned to the station. His hands twitched into fists at that thought.

Shaky breaths were being drawn in behind him and Brass took a deep breath of his own. The kid was never in a situation like this. Yeah, he had been on a scene where there had been gunfire and blown up in a lab explosion, but Greg was still one of the more innocent ones. Wouldn't be right to blow up at him for being twitchy in a situation like this. But, then again, he wouldn't be Jim Brass if he didn't.

"Wanna calm down there, Sanders."

He really hadn't meant for it to come out so rough. It was just his nature to sound tough and hard. Even when he was trying hard to not be. But the kid still answered him.

"Sorry. Just hoping this is all over soon."

Warrick nodded his head as he kept step with the younger CSI, "Hear ya on that one, man. Those damn kids better be in this room. Sick of walking around this place."

Both beams of light shined upon the door as if it were a place for all religious answers. Shadows danced across the dreaded wood. Greg could swear if he looked long and hard enough, the blood lost inside the room would start to run down from the top to create a sea of terror at the bottom. He gulped and took a small step closer to the other two men.

"Well, let's stop yakking out here like a couple of school girls," Brass huffed as he opened another door, to another room in the same hell.

His arm jerked from his body to throw light into the darkness, Warrick's right with him. The three men took large, yet silent steps inward. Even though they could only see a few feet in front of their eyes where the light didn't penetrate, they kept starring hard into the darkness as if it was enough to lift it.

Greg gasped and reached out for Warrick's arm, pulling to in the direction he wanted, "Over here!"

Her skin was pale in the light. Some areas were tinged a sweetly pink color, bathed in soft shades of blood. Darkness swallowed her hands and feet from their wide spread angles. Greg bit his tongue to hold in the gag as he looked over Natalie's dead body.

It was a fresh kill. Brass' mind raced as he moved his body forward. His gun felt heavier in his hand as he moved, ready to use it. He searched for Kevin all around the area. No one else was there. But there was no way the boy slipped past them.

"He's still here."

Warrick nodded he head as he moved his flashlight around, trying to reach into all the corners and dark spaces. His movements were not smooth, but he would worry about being Mr. Cool at some other time. Now it was time for panic and uncertainty. No one would judge and call names.

But he tensed as he was about to pass over the stupid truck once again. The boy suddenly seemed taller, stronger. Of course, now he had a gun in one hand, a red, dripping knife in the other. Warrick faltered a little, not quite sure what to do.

"Drop it! Throw it away, Kevin."

The shouted command from the CSI caused Brass to focus and send his light out to aid. Pinned with both lights, the boy's smile simply grew, eyes crazy with some sort of lust. The gun didn't even shake, the knife rose a little. It was two guns against one, yet the kid wasn't letting down.

Brass growled, "Drop it. Hands where I c'n see 'em."

Kevin shook his head, body shaking with mirth, "Sorry, but can't do it. You got in the way. Everyone. Should have just let the girl lie, die."

"What? You shot Kayla? Why?" Greg couldn't hold his tongue as thoughts raced. This kid had seemed so unlikely. Quiet, shy almost.

The boy raised his gun, making a sharp gesture to the ground with it. He wanted them to lose their weapons. It seemed ludicrous that he would have the nerve to order a detective and a CSI to drop their guns in such a situation. But here he was, still smiling away.

"No need for stupid answers to such stupid questions. If you wish to live a little longer, it would be best if you lost your guns."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," Warrick said as he took a step forward, rubble crunching under his boots, "Seems like your out numbered."

If possible, the smile grew even more, "Oh really."

Brass could feel his heart stop beating when the gun was locked behind him. Keeping his gun and out in front of him, he shifted the light enough to see the girl behind him. He shouted through his conscious about not checking over the girl. She had appeared dead, but now she looked very much alive. Still covered in blood, but very much alive.

"Wha' the fuck?" Warrick cursed out in a rush of air.

Pale cheeks crinkled into rows of pale pink and white wash as Natalie smiled, "Drama club."

Breathing became difficult as Greg's panic gripped him. It seemed like his throat was closing up, chocking off all air. They were stuck between two grinning fools, with guns. And he really wanted to know how they got those damn things in this place.

"Would seem you three aren't in a good situation any longer. We prepared for such things, but never dreamed it would all turn out like this," Natalie spoke softly though her voice seemed to stretch to fill the entire room.

Sharing a look with Brass, Warrick began to slowly lower his gun. They were in the middle. It was where the crosshairs met. If they played this right, they could get the upper hand again and make it out of this alive.

Kevin walked boldly over to Warrick and ripped the drooping weapon from the slack hands. He reached around and put it in the band of his pants like he had seen all the cops do it in the movies. It was a powerful feeling one he could get used to. The teenager watched Natalie do the same thing with the burly cop.

"Now, no one do anything stupid. Hate to have to do something bad," his smirk was clear in the odd lighting thrown by the flashlights.

Brass' face went blank as he stared down the kid, "And how do you thing you're even in charge here? Huh?"

"We have the guns, the upper hand." Her voice dripped like sweet honey, still swarming with bees. Natalie moved a few steps closer to her partner in crime. The movements of her body were graceful, smooth. She wasn't afraid of anything while doing this.

"But we're not the only ones," Greg tried his hardest not to let his voice crack, though he was only so successful, "We have friends in the other room."

"Maybe."

The shrug was so casual. It was if they were talking about what color the sky was or something as meaningless and yet so profound. Warrick couldn't get his head around this situation. Lots of shit had hit the fans over the last couple of years, but this was not something he was coded for. Teenagers going crazy in a destroyed school with a suddenly large arsenal. Nothing came up.

"Or maybe not."

It was like a cue. She had mentioned a drama club. All this was a big play. There were acts, stages, and scenes that had to be run through. They had seen the music fall apart, crash in a large bang of percussion and winds. Not the actually drama was coming into affect. Greek poets couldn't have been more pleased with this tragedy playing out.

Three rapid shots rang through the door behind the three men. Warrick almost chocked on the breath he sucked into his lungs. Burning sensations ran up and down his spine, paralyzing him with a gaping look on his face. Only his eyes moved around, trying to gain control.

Greg's cry of alarm was soft and wispy. Both his hands formed tight fists. All that he could comprehend were the guns starring him down and the ringing of bullets singing in his ears. It was painful and yet comprehension was clear. They were all going to die.

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

The drive was much too slow. It was supposed to only take a grand total of seven minutes to get from the station to the school. Here they were, stuck in the middle of some intersections, ticking away to twelve minutes. Grissom prided himself on being a patient man, but even he had his limits.

Sheriff Baker didn't bothering looking in the rear view mirror knowing what kind of expressions he was be getting from the two CSI's. The rushes of sarcastic breaths from the blonde were enough to tell him these delays were not appreciated in the slightest. But he kept himself from yelling at them that this was a disaster zone now and shit was going to get in the way.

His hands were tight on the steering wheel as he approached the new road. He was supposed to turn right. It would lead him to the school. This was the direct route. But it was blocked by destruction. A few cars were now barricades. Several trees were closed off draw bridges. He turned to Officer Duncan and sighed.

"Another way?"

"I don't know. We would have to go up and around then. Add another ten minutes if the roads are any better. Seems to be the center of the damage. School must be trashed."

Catherine leaned forward so she could interrupt the conversation, "You mean no one has been down this way yet? No one has seen the school?"

"First step in the procedure is to search and rescue yes, but we also needed to control any fires going on around. There were at least three that I know about. And my guys have been picking up people wandering around on the streets. Indoor searching comes next, but it will be a long process. Places like the school, which are supposed to be empty, will be last on that list."

It was not an answer either wanted. Grissom kept his eyes out the window, searching for anything. And something was catching his attention. He couldn't tell what it was, but it didn't look like any tree that he had ever seen. His hand was reaching for the door handle before he could stop it.

The car was still moving when his feet hit the ground. Grissom's balance was thrown slightly, but he managed to move forward without falling on his face. Shouts came from the car, the squealing of breaks as the car was stopped.

"Gil, wait!" Catherine bolted through the open door right behind her friend, "What're you doing?"

He kept his face crisp and professional, "Something's not right here."

Catherine shook her head at the vague response, but didn't bother to stop the man from walking forward. Realizing they had no lights, she darted back to the car and shuffled through the kit bags they had brought with them, just in case. Both flashlights were near the top and she was right after Grissom once she had them.

"Hey, wait up. You're going to need this."

"Thanks. Didn't think about that."

"It's alright. I'll make sure Ecklie doesn't hear about it."

It was enough to quirk his lips a little, but Grissom turned his attention back to the road he wanted to follow. He could hear the squawking of the police radio behind him, Sheriff Baker shouting off orders. But there wasn't any word for him to stop, not to move.

He walked right to the spot that demanded his attention. Seeing enough dead bodies in his life, Grissom was sadly disgusted to know he could identify one from a good distance away. Even one so small, so innocent.

"Oh god," Catherine stopped at his side, her hand rushing to her mouth. The girl was lying face down. Her hair and clothes were damp. She had been out in the rain, in the storm.

Grissom crouched down on the girl's left side and let his eyes roam up and down her still body. She had been walking when attacked from behind. There were two bloody wounds in the upper back of her jacket. He couldn't be sure of what it was right then, but it had been deep enough to kill this girl.

Hair rested over the pale lips, closed eyes. Catherine covered her fingers with her CSI jacket and brushed the strands away. No matter how many times she told herself this wasn't her daughter, she always had to check anyways. People could call her paranoid, but she would never care. The look of shock was clear on the delicate brow.

"Seems odd for a girl this age to be wondering around on the streets," Grissom commented mostly to himself. He looked up and waved at Duncan who was watching the two from the passenger door. The cop immediately jogged over, jumping over obstacles.

"We need a paramedic unit here now. If possible this area needs to be taped off. Get in touch with my lab and have a coroner sent. Let no one move the body until this is dealt with."

"Why the paramedics then?"

Catherine sniffled, "Just procedure. Need them to check the stats and declare the death. Could cause some trouble in court." Her own voice sounded odd. She sounded like Grissom. But she would let it slide this once. Only once.

The officer nodded his head and turned to leave before he hesitated and turned back, "I'll contact her parents as well."

Looking away from his searching, Grissom asked the question with his eyes. He wanted to work this scene as it was most defiantly one. It was clear the weapon used was something man made. A tree limb or rock shatter wouldn't look like this.

"It's little Sue Kenneth. I play ball with her father. He's going to be devastated."

A deep, painful sigh left Catherine's lips as she looked down on little Sue's cold, dead face. Anger welled through her as she thought about the monster that could do this. She stopped her chilled fingers from brushing across the once rosy cheek. The rain had taken most of the evidence away, but she would be damned to help the lost cause.

"Now what?"

"Have them hold this area off. We need to get to that school. I've a bad feeling about all of this."

Grissom waited only seconds longer to relay his instructions to a confused Sheriff. He asked for walking directions from that point to the school. Then he returned to the squad car for their weapons. Catherine didn't say a word, only nodded. They were off.

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

"What the fuck? I thought you knew how to aim that damn thing," a voice choked out in the mess of all things.

Nick barely had time to register who it belonged to as Andrew continued to slump forward. His arms went flying out to catch the man before he would be able to fall from the chair. The cop's intake of air was rough, thick. Nick couldn't tell in the light where Andrew had been hit, but it didn't sound good.

Derek jumped to his feet and pushed the dead body of Kyle away from his with his foot. The kid had taken the bullet cleaning in the front of his chest. Shock was evident on his face, parting remnants of pain. Shooting was so quick and simple.

"Oh please. Make me take out two people before this and all you can do is bitch," Amber pouted out her lip, in complete contrast to the anger in her voice, "It was cold and wet out there. And I think I cut myself trying to get back in here. So leave it."

The teenage boy stalked over to stand right in front of the girl. He had a good height advantage on the once delicate girl. Nick could feel his gag reflex giving in at how he felt he needed to help her, protect her from any and all danger. Now she was the one he needed to protect himself from. Trembling started in his legs, slowing eating its way up his body. But he fought to keep his arms still. Andrew was moaning from enough pain as it was.

"Yeah, so prissy gets a little wet. You're worst than a damn poodle. And the fact is, you still missed one. You were supposed to take them all out. Now," Derek threw his hand back, palm upright, "You left one still kicking."

Amber snorted and pulled the gun casually towards her body, "Oh please. I was sitting in this room as well as you. Dude's injured. What's he gonna do? Huh?"

"Whatever. Where's the other one?"

Nick dragged his attention of the bickering students and started to lower Andrew to the ground. In his sitting position, he was having trouble supporting the man's weight. Andrew squirmed away as he was placed on his back, his full weight on the wounds.

"Sorry, man," Nick could have kicked himself for being so stupid and doing that. He pulled on Andrew's shoulder and helped the man rest on his side. His right arm was twisted up under his head, hand in a tight fist.

"What happened?"

It was a drained whisper. As if someone had pulled the plug on the tub of life holding Andrew to the world, the man was fading away. Nick could see his eyes dulling, movements slow and hard. Something caught in his chest, but he swallowed it down, pushing it into his gut. Leaning forward, he looked the best he could for the wounds.

There were two of them. Seemingly so small, so simple. It had never ceased to amaze the Texan on how easily something so dull looking as a bullet could steal a life so easily. It was cruel and pointless. But these two were working their dark magic, pulling life away from a good friend.

"Just hand on, Andy. Ya got a little bit of buckshot."

He tried to keep it calm, not depressing. The look on Andrew's face proved to show the man wasn't stupid or slow. Andrew was a cop. He had seen plenty of other cops die from such things. No amount of joking or distracting was going to make him forget now.

"Who?"

Nick looked over his shoulder. Derek now held a gun in his hands. Where it had come from, Nick didn't know. It was the look in Amber's eyes that scared him the most though. Her green eyes were lit up by the red wisps framing her face. All the shakes and insecurities were gone. Nick's body ceased up, clamping down on the air he was pulling in too quickly.

"He dead?"

The young girl threw the question out, no care. Well, enough care to the point that they should only have one more live guy in the room with them. Two would be nearly impossible to deal with. Amber shivered in glee at how things were working out.

Nick turned questioning, brown eyes up at the two grinning faces, "Why?"

Amber waved an impatient hand at that, "Oh please cop man. You really got all caught up in my little act, huh? Here I thought cops had some sort of brains in them. Guess I was wrong. There is only one why in this place."

She sounded older than should be legal. Andrew fought to keep his eyes open, pain flaring through every fiber of his being. If he had the energy to comment, he would tell the CSI he know had a slight understanding at how Nick must feel half the time in shit like this. He hurt like hell. And he could feel the blood running like ghost's fingers across his spine.

"She had to go," Amber rested the hand with the gun on her hip, "Girl just was in the way and a pain in the ass."

"You mean Kayla? You killed her?" Nick frowned, dimples forming slightly from his pursed lips.

"Yeah, I lost the game. We pulled cards out. Lowest one uses the gun. So, here I am. Lost on a simple game of chance."

Nick was swallowed up by the words. He was sure something was showing on his face, thankful for the bad lightening from the bad flashlight. In his own game of chance, a flip of a coin, he had lost. But he had lived to see a new day. Kayla lost her life due to a card. A low card.

"And it wasn't really as hard as you'd think to do. Schools really aren't set up for watching all the students. We all brought in a gun and knife apiece. Nothing."

Her small shoulders shrugged. Amber felt bored with all this talking. She wanted to know if the cop was going to die or not. Her steps were smooth, graceful as ever. Nick's eyes followed her, but he was trapped in his own pain and confusion.

Amber crouched down, squinting her eyes, "Not dead yet, but soon."

"You said all of you had guns. Who else is there?"

Nick wanted to push her away, not let her anywhere near the injured cop. He watched, stock still, as the small hand reached out and gently pressed against the flap of the shirt underneath the top most bullet wound. A rolling started in his stomach as he watched those white teeth shine again. His teeth clenched together as he fought back on it.

"Don't touch him!" he snarled, pulling Andrew away from her slightly. A moan startled him, guilt causing the bile to rise into his throat.

"So touchy," Amber smiled bigger, "Going to die, but still so touchy. And don't forget that fact. You are going to die. None of us care about you. It's not even our fault you all are here."

"What're you talking about?"

Amber shushed him, "Not now. We've only to wait a little longer."

The CSI wanted to demand information. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until her head rattled on her neck. Shuffled footsteps sounded from out in the hall. His heart fell lower than the soles of his shoes. Tearing his eyes away from the tiny scene in front of him, he watched his friends ushered into the room at gunpoint.

Four guns. Four teenagers. One injured cop, two bullet wounds. One injured CSI, hole from a damn brick. And lots of hell to pay.

Nick could feel his stomach twist up again. It made his eyes water. He dropped them and threw out a small plea to whoever might be listening. This wasn't how he wanted to die. But, did he have anymore luck to get them all out of this, still breathing?

***

#13: Cause tonight will be the last time...

Warrick's eyes immediately sought out his friend. It appeared that Nick wasn't any worse, but Andy didn't look good at all. He started to take a step forward for their stopped position, but a cluck of a tongue stopped him.

"Hey, hey now. No more walking," Kevin smirked as he walked to stand next to the taller man, "Your precious friends are just fine. Not dead, yet."

"Then step aside, kid."

Derek sighed and marched over to the new group to the room, "Just shut up. Get them all together. It'll be easier to hold this together."

"Oh, so now you're in charge here? Since when, dude?"

"You two shut up," Natalie barked out, waving her gun in the air, "Just shut up. God. What is with boys! I swear."

"Oh yeah, like chicks are all that much better. Shit, we'd never have gotten this far on just the two of you."

There was a jab of a barrel in Greg's back. It forced him to walk forward. But his own anxiety had him moving quickly, dropping to his knees next to Nick. He ignored the bickering from the four teenagers in the room.

"How is he?"

Nick could barely hear the words over the louder ones being tossed around elsewhere. He closed his eyes, needing a moment to collect himself. Something was being torn open inside of him, but he wasn't man enough to let it open. It would be kept in, bottled, and shaken at a later date.

A gasp for air, a pull for a voice, "I'll be fine. Just need a drink."

"Sure Andy. I'll buy the first round," Warrick tried to keep his voice calm as he moved close enough to see what had happened to the cop.

Brass was the only one not sharing jabs and comments with the others. He didn't want to take his eyes of the kids for any amount of time. They were still arguing with each other. There were plenty of questions, and now he wanted a hell of a lot of answers. He would let the other men chat and catch their breath a little. His ears were forward.

"So, you couldn't kill them all. What the hell. We should'a went in a different direction."

"Oh yeah, like this was planned. Shit, we went with the wind here."

"And look where it got us. A bunch of damn cops."

"Hey, you didn't watch the weather either. How the hell?"

"Someone should have checked on this."

"Yeah, I can just see it. Gun, check. Knife, check. Doppler equipment, oops. Fuck off, man."

"So now what?"

"We have to kill them. All of them. Anymore bullets?"

"Yeah...but they're cops."

"And they know everything."

"Not everything, but enough. Shit, they have our damn prints."

"Nah, destroyed in the storm. Just names and images of our faces. We could do it."

"You first."

These were rushed and whispered words, but the detective picked up on every one of them. None of the kids had what seemed to be a solid plan anymore. Every one of them was trying to gain the upper hand on the others. Something might be able to make them crack. Brass was willing to try.

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

Andrew was swimming in a sea of blues, reds, and yellows. It all hurt his eyes and he had to squint against the colors. The waves lifted him, moving him around as if he was nothing more than a feather. It was liberating. He could feel his entire being yearn for it.

Something was up with his back though. With every move he tried to make, there was a pull, a stretch. There really wasn't any way to describe it. He had never felt anything like it. But when he tried to reach his hands back to touch the area, the limbs would be suddenly sucked under the water. It was safer not to try.

Voices were on the wind, but he couldn't figure out who would be in the middle of nowhere with him. It was illogical when there wasn't a single piece of land or a boat. No, he was completely alone. The voices weren't human. Andrew leaned his head back, only birds would be here.

It was warm and cold all at the same time. Parts of his body felt like it was on fire, others as if he were put on ice. The more he fought against everything, anything, the more the feeling intensified. Unpleasant and unexpected. All he could remember of swimming before was calm and weightlessness.

Here, there were too many things happening. He felt relaxed, but yet in so much pain. The colors became brighter, pounding through his skull. Something was poking into his hip. With a quick stroke, he pushed his body into another direction.

Immediately he was taken into a new swell, thrown around like a rag doll. Pain radiated through his body, starting in his back. His mouth opened in a scream, no sound allowed past his lips. It was pulled right out of existence, into nothingness.

But then things calmed down once again. Heat and freeze were back. It was all he could wrap his mind around anymore. And those voices, they were back.

Faces began to pop up in different areas of the purple sky. He knew those people. They were his friends. It was calming to see people he cared so much about around him in a time like this. The water lapped at his shoulders and neck almost like a lover's caress. Andrew leaned his head back a little more.

Suddenly different faces showed up. These were not friendly. They sneered, laughed, tortured. He seized up, tensing at the sudden images. Young faces, blocked out at times from flying bricks, trees. It was confusing.

Once again, he tried to scream out his pain, his confusion. Something touched him, rested on his arm. It wasn't wet or fluid. Solid and strong. Flesh. Blackness hit him full force. He lost to the darkness.

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

"Come on Andy, stay with us," Nick leaned forward to chant at the man.

He could feel the body tremble underneath his hands. Andrew's mouth moved, but no words came out. The cop was fighting the pain, lost in a world that could only make sense to another person in the same amount of pain.

Nick had been there once upon a time.

He shook his head and took his thoughts from those. This was not a time to get lost in the past, in old pains. Nick had to be here for his friends. There would be plenty of time to kick his own ass later. He placed a strong grip on Andrew's arm so the man would know he wasn't alone. Nick could feel the body relax into unconsciousness.

Greg's wide eyes jumped to his as the younger man watched Andrew's head roll completely. The lean body was tense. The former lab rat was in complete survival mode, ready to jump up and flee in a moment's notice.

"He okay?" Warrick asked as if afraid to curse the man into death.

"Just passed out. Probably better. Less pain."

"But he's gonna live," Greg shifted his weight, "Right?"

Both the older CSI's exchanged a look with each other. They knew what might happen, would most likely could happen. Warrick had been watching the kids as well this entire time. Granted he hadn't listened as well as Brass currently was, but he had a gist of what was going on. These kids wanted them all dead now.

Neither managed a word before the kids decided they had enough time to reconnect. Derek marched over, steps loud. The gun in his hand was forward, pointing straight at Nick's head. In fact, a gun was trained on each of the four.

"Al'ight. Leave the cop on the floor. Everyone in chairs, hands on your knees. And no tricks."

He sounded like he had read a movie script. Brass snorted under his breath at the command the kid tried to pull off. No one talked like that. In events like this, professionals wouldn't have let them live past five minutes ago. This mess had thrown the kids for a loop.

"Move!"

The order was bellowed, making Nick's ear ring slightly. With as much care as he could managed, he arranged Andrew on the floor in order not to pull at the wounds on his back too much. He listened to the sound of scrapping chairs and realized one had been placed closer to him. By looking at the shoes, he had Warrick to thank for that.

He frowned to himself at that. The other man was always willing to care for him, help him out. Nick just pushed him too far away. After thinking long and hard over their fight, he knew he had completely stupid and out of line. It was just a blind date. Not everyone out there was crazy.

A tiny voice cracked up at that thought and he was suddenly assaulted by high pitch laughter. He could almost see the tiny person rolling around on the ground, clutching at their stomach as the pain from the diaphragm ran through the tiny body. Nick shook his head trying to dislodge the intruder, but knew from experience, that voice was there to stay. It was part of him now. Sadly, it was almost a comfort on some days. But he could still make up with Warrick. No need for this pettiness between them.

Thought right now, he had to concentrate more on getting up off the floor and into the chair. He shifted his weight and groaned as every muscle seemed to pull in a different direction. The cut felt wet and hot again. Adhesive from the tape pulled at the tiny hairs on his stomach. His ribs shifted and tightened against tired lungs. A dark. lean hand appeared in his line of vision.

"Here. Let me help," Warrick kept his voice soft, clear of all emotions. He just wanted to help his pained friend out. From the fact that Nick's face dropped all color in the matter of milliseconds, he knew there was no way in hell the other man was getting himself into that chair, especially not from the great distance the floor offered. Nick had forgotten all about his own pain in the adrenaline rush of everything. It was clear as day to Warrick.

Nick wanted to push the hand away, keep going on his own. He bit the inside of his cheek at these thoughts. The teeth pushed in hard enough to create a new rush of pain into his already overloaded system. But it also forced him to reach up for the extra help. It was a beginning to offering an apology for being such an ass.

As he was gently pulled to his feet, Nick could see Amber moving closer from the corner of his vision. He wanted to yell at her, tell her to go away. But then he saw the gun and remembered he didn't have his. Chills ran through his entire being, centered at the body hole in his hip. He had these before, when she was leaving through that hole. Women are always told to trust their gut feelings. Well, guys should learn to trust their chills. Nick shook his head again, bangs flapping against his forehead.

The chair was closer than he had thought. All he had to do was shift a little to the right and there it was. In another time he would chide Warrick for not thinking he could move even a couple of feet. But his body was glad for the back support once his weight was settled. He smiled his thanks to his partner.

Warrick nodded and sat in the chair he had moved close to Nick's. He placed his hands palms down on his knees and looked at the other two men. It was easier to ignore the sweat collecting on the thick skin of his fingers and palms with them pressed into his pants.

In almost a straight row, Greg was the closest to Warrick, just to his right. He could see the shakes and jerks as Greg fought his hardest to keep his cool. The taller CSI only hoped that it was to fool the kids, not him or Nick. Greg didn't have to prove anything to either of them.

Brass was about a foot away from Greg, turned in a little bit. His face was set in hard lines, shifting only slightly as his eyes studied everything going on around them. And there was plenty of that to do.

The kids seemed at ease more now that they had the adults in positions where they could watch them better. Each one picked out someone to guard it seemed. While most of the guns were held casually, Amber held hers true. Nick was getting really sick of looking down the barrel. Well, it was better than that toothy grin.

Being the closest to the two injured men now, she moved a little to peer down at them. It seemed that somewhere along this little trip, the music director gave up. His chest was still, skin a nice shade of gray. No threat left with that one. One plus in the scheme of things.

But the cop was still breathing, moving every now and then. Soft gasps and groans escaped his lips. Amber nudged him with her foot, but the only movement was from the force of her kick. His body fell back into position. Eyes didn't even flutter.

"Hey, leave him alone!"

Green eyes rolled over to meet angry brown ones. Nick was startled to see how alike they were to Warrick's. The shades were similar, but then he saw the differences. Never before and never in the future would he see such insanity or lust in Warrick's eyes. That chill was on the move, tiny spiders weaving their web across his skin. Coats of white strands kept him locked in this world.

"Now, you're in no position to say a thing, sugar. Besides, not a point to trying to protect him any longer."

Warrick growled, his fingers grabbing up bits of pant cloth as they tightened into fists, "Oh yeah. And why's that?"

"Cause you're going to die," Natalie huffed, "Why can't you fools get that through your thick skulls? I mean, come on!"

"Well, since you're so willing to kill us, you can answered a couple of questions then for me. Why Kayla? What was the point of that?"

The way the four suddenly looked at Brass, as if the man had spouted green hair and tentacles, would have been hilarious in another time, another place. Now all Greg wanted to do was kick the older man in the shin to attempt to get Brass to shut up and stop pissing the kids off. But from the tight lines in that face, Greg knew it would be pointless in the moment and a signature on his death certificate.

"What difference does it make?" Natalie's voice rose an octave. "She's dead. Nothing more too it. Your dead doctor will take her apart and figure it all out anyways. I watch T.V. I've seen Law and Order, thank you very much."

Brass let out a sly grin, "Just curious. Personally, I've never seen that show and don't know what our dead doctor will be able to tell us. Dead people can only talk so much. You guys are so much better with words. Could clear it all up for us right here and now."

Kevin started to shake his head. The boy was getting agitated by something. What it was, Warrick couldn't figure out. He glanced at Nick, question marks all over his face, but his friend only answered with slanted, wide eyes. The boy started to open his mouth, trying to get words out.

"Wha...what would we have...what do you want to know?"

"Simply how the four of you came together and why you killed Kayla. Doesn't seem that big of a deal to be in the same band as someone. Not a good reason to shot them from behind."

Their feet shuffled, guns moved a little. Amber kept strong on hers as always. It only moved from Nick's right eye to his left, not up or down. That girl was going to shot his in the face no matter what happened it appeared.

It was Derek that jumped forward, like he had when Brass and Greg had first questioned the kids back those so many moments ago, right in this room. "Why is it that kids can never seem to plan anything, follow through on anything in the minds and eyes of adults? It was worked through and we had everything down. But then the weather and you fucked it all up."

"Still doesn't explain why a girl died today?" Nick kept his voice soft, trying not to startle anyone by loud noises.

Amber's face went red and she darted out for one of the flashlights laying on the floor, "She was a bitch! I hated her. She stole my boyfriend!"

The light flared up underneath her face. It appeared to Nick that she wanted to turn this into some haunting story. Her youth was seeping in and taking everything away she was trying to pull. These were just kids. Nothing was going to take that away. They were kids that killed another kid.

"All this for a boyfriend?" Warrick was dumbfounded. He had seen plenty of shit go down over a date, but these kids were too young to even think seriously about something like that.

It was Nick that got slammed across the cheek by the butt of a gun. Amber screamed as she swung. Nick groaned as his head was snapped on his spine. The dead percussion from the other room had now taken up residence inside his head. Copper trickled in to tease his tongue.

"Just was a boyfriend! You don't get it! No one does! No one ever will."

The outburst from Amber seemed to scare the others a little, though not nearly as much as it did the adults in the room. Derek and Kevin shifted closer together, Natalie moved a step backwards. The red headed girl was panting heavily, shoulders heaving. Now the gun was pointed at Nick's chest.

Brass smoothed his hands out on his thighs, "Why the four of you?"

Coughing erupted from Kevin, though it was fake to his own ears as everyone else's, "I was surfing the web one day, typing in random searches. Don't even remember what I put down, but a shit load of sights came up. Hers," he tossed his head at Amber, "came up, third from the top. She had detailed what she wanted and wanted help."

"So you knew she wanted to kill someone and you helped?" Greg almost jumped out of his chair at the admission. There was a fire going on underneath his chair and the flames were licking the back of his knees now. He wanted out. But he really wanted to hear more.

"Yeah, ya know. Gets boring around here."

It went silent for a few moments. Boredom was again blamed for the troubles raining down on the world. With all the crap kids had now a days, Brass just couldn't understand how in the hell they could be bored. He had much less when he was their age and did just fine.

"You two?"

Derek shrugged, "I'm her cousin. She asked for shooting help. I knew the girl. Seemed interesting enough."

"It was my idea for the cards," Natalie spoke up, "None of us could decide who would do it. I got my card deck and we chose that way. Highest card planted the dummy gun."

All four heads shot up, though Nick regretted it immediately. The gun they had found in the bathroom was a plant. It seemed these kids were watching more than law shows on television. They had gotten into some scary material somewhere.

"It was to throw the cops off. We get away. Water kills the prints, any clues. No one can point at us. We just happened to be in the room. Killer ran out and away." Natalie's voice was calm and even. It seemed that she had practiced this speech prior to this day. Probably in the bathroom mirror with a brush, like accepting an Oscar.

"Why didn't any residue show up? On any of you?" Greg asked.

Amber shook her head, "I changed my jacket. Wore my gloves. Not that hard to think of. Plenty of websites out there about what happens as you shot a gun. And what to watch out for."

Their case was officially a joke. Nick could feel the laughter and sneers they would get when they got back to the lab. 'Well, if they ever did anyways.' Here they had been beaten by a group of kids with knowledge from the web and crime shows. And, it worked.

"Alright. We talked enough. Now, since the weather had to go and mess things up, we've got a problem left in the form of you," Amber smirked as she leveled her gun at Nick's nose. "Never thought to plan for being trapped inside with tornadoes rushing around outside. I will not be arrested for taking out the trash."

She looked over her shoulder and nodded at someone. From his angle, Warrick couldn't tell with whom she was communicating with. The flashlights were all scooped up into the young hands. Extra ones were turned off. It was dim and deafening in that room.

"Alright. Let's do this. Make it quick. We have to get the hell out of here."

Derek frowned at Natalie, "And how the hell are we gonna do that? We can't fit through that damn hole."

"Just shut up," Amber snapped again, "We'll worry about that in a moment."

The guns were all aimed, ready to fire. Greg could feel the sweat running down his spine, pooling at the waistband of his pants. His skin itched, his breath hitched. Derek only could smile at his terror. He missed what Greg could see. That flash of movement no one was paying any attention to. His heart leapt with hope at this discovery. He had to bit his lower lip from shouting out that name.

Amber went down suddenly, unexpectedly. Flashlight went out, hit the floor.. Shouts echoed through the room, guns fired repeatedly. Beams of light danced around, following rains of death. Bullets flew throughout the room with no clear direction anymore. Chairs skidded, knees thudded. Plastic clattered. Heavy breathing filled the room. Pain filled moans sounded as hands reached for bloody wounds. Some were deep, others weren't. Three were missing all together.

A single beam was all the remained in the room. It pointed towards the door. Brass' sturdy hand groped for it, managing to hook it with one finger. His body hurt from his drop to the floor, but there weren't any bullet holes that he could feel in his person.

He lifted the light and moved it around back towards where he knew everyone had been. It froze in place as his brain accepted what he was seeing. There had been a lot of rounds popped off, but from what he was witness to, there might as well have been a machine gun in the room. Bile rose in his throat, eyes welled up with dampness. He pushed it down and fought to keep a clear head.

People were lying in pools of blood. He couldn't see any movement. Brass was the only one sitting up. Someone was dead, dying. He just didn't want to look to see who. It had happened so quick.

***

#14: Deep in her heart...

It had seemed like the world had come to an end. The storm earlier was nothing compared to this. Greg wasn't even sure if he was still alive or not. Somewhere there had to be several bullets embedded in his flesh. Enough had been shot off around him.

There was only one source of light in the room now. It was moving around slowly, a tremble evident. Whatever it was that moved it, Greg wanted it to stop. His head hurt enough as it was. Throwing up a hand, he groaned. The light centered right on his face.

"Greg? That you?"

He knew that voice anywhere. It had been in his life solidly over the past years. Greg had always been a little imitated by Jim Brass, but now, never so fond of that man. Tears welled up in his eyes. As well as a strong desire to rush over and hug the life out of that man.

"You okay, kid?"

But it appeared his voice wouldn't work to form words. Greg was sure his mouth was open, tongue moving, but only unarticulated words were emitted. A few of the tears he had been fighting spilled over to rush over his cheekbones. He planted his hands on the ground and made to move upright. Greg fell back down with a cry. There was something wrong with his leg.

Brass was suddenly closer to him, a sturdy hand on his shoulder, "Hey, just hang in there Greg. Let me take a look."

The flashlight moved down Greg's body. There was a large spot of blood expanding from a hole in Greg's leg. He had been shot in the mess of things. Now that the CSI took the time to assess everything and calm himself a bit, Greg could feel the pain building through his body.

"Hey, don't move too much Greg. Have to take a closer look at that."

"Where's everyone else? Did you see what Andy did?" Greg mumbled as he wiped at his cheeks.

"Yeah, kid. He did good. Saved us by doing that. I'm going to have to write that in his file when we get back to Vegas."

The light lifted from the bloody mess and Brass swung it outward trying to locate another person. He swept over two smaller, younger bodies. Kevin and Derek were down and seemingly out for the count. But Brass wasn't about to make a second mistake, like he had in the band room. He shared a quick look with Greg and made his way slowly over to the two boys.

Kevin was on his back, head twisted back in an odd angle. He took two of the bullets as his own. From what Brass could tell, this probably hadn't been too much of an accident. The bullets were placed in his chest and stomach.

As for Derek, he was laying on his side. His left arm was wrapped up behind his back. There wasn't much of his face left. None of the blood where his nose had been was bubbling up in the light beam. Both were dead.

The detective turned back to where he had left the younger man only to be met with a beam of light of his own. Greg had scrambled around his feet and came up with one of the flashlight lost in the sudden eruption the kids had caused. It made the former lab rat feel safer in his own skin.

"They dead?" He flicked his wrist to throw the beam onto the two teenagers. Brass nodded his head and Greg released part of the breath he had been holding. Now, he swallowed and gained enough courage to turn to find the other people in the room. He didn't have to look far.

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

Warrick's head hurt. It really hurt. This wasn't one of those headaches that just shows up like an eerie aunt. No, this one had taken up residence inside the bones of his skull. And it was dark.

He slowly lifted his head from where it decided to have a butting contest with the floor. From the wetness running around in the lines of his frown, the floor had taken his number to the bank. There was some movement to his side, but he was too busy trying to keep his stomach from revolting. Of course, throwing up on that floor was sort of like justice.

There were hissing whispers in the room. Sounded like two people. Who those two people would be, he didn't have the slightest idea. His body hurt too much to think about such unimportant matters as to who in their right mind would be whispering right now anyways.

Relenting to losing another battle, Warrick rolled slightly so he was flatter on his back. The tiles were cold and it seeped in through his shirt. Small shivers raked his body as the chill settled in more and more. Pains erupted from different locations of his person. Some were old, from that annoying room across the hall. But there seemed to be two new ones involved now.

Choking back a groan, Warrick cleared his thoughts enough to remember what had happened. The kids had gone berserk when Amber when down because of Andy and it seemed they had a lot of bullets left in those guns. He was sure they shot off most of them in the frenzy. Sure sounded like it. And now, he was sure he wore at least one of those damn things somewhere in his body.

The whispers stopped. Another light source was suddenly in the room, a tad brighter than the other one. Both stopped on him, one lit up around his chin, the other his stomach region. Now he didn't stop the groan from escaping. Two jerking lights danced towards him.

"Warrick? You okay?"

It was Greg. Just like Greg to ask a stupid question. 'Well moron, you are the master. You taught him well. Score on for the grasshopper.'

"Yeah man, just making martinis over here. Nothing big. Using bullets as olives."

Both Greg and Brass moved to his side. Though it was clear Greg wasn't really moving as much as pulling his limp body along the floor. Brass seemed just fine though. That cop could live through anything it appeared.

"You guys?"

Greg waved him off with a flap of his hand, "Never better. Now I can brag about my first gunshot wound, huh?"

Brass shook his head and raised a hand to rub at his forehead. But he didn't think too long on it. Warrick finally brought the question out into the open.

"Nick? Andy? What about them? The damn kids?"

It was enough to get both men to jerk their lights upwards. Brass' fell upon Natalie first. No amount of drama club was going to help her now. Her chest was heaving, but her eyes were pinched closed. Small whimpers rose from her throat, along with a lot of blood. The detective couldn't tell where she had been hit, but she was out for the three.

The other light fell on the mess of bodies on the other side of Warrick, about four feet away from the tall CSI. It was hard to tell who was who from this angle. Andrew and Nick were a mess of limbs. Andrew had been the savior, moving to knock down Amber. But as a result, he had moved his body closer to Nick's.

The small girl was almost on the top of the two of them. Her red hair was splayed across Nick's torso, Andrew's arm. There was no sound or movement from the pile.

A strangled noise erupted from Warrick, pushing the man to ignore his own pains to move over to the group. He sustained a bullet wound to his right shoulder, but it might as well been a simple mosquito bite for all the attention he was paying to it.

But he only made it to about a foot away from the mess. The red head suddenly sat up, twisted smile on her face. It was even more frightening now with the red stains between her teeth. There was blood running out the side of her mouth, arching down her chin.

Every shred of innocence was now gone from her face. The monster she had been hiding in that little girl exterior was now out to play. And it was perched, hunting, over the bodies of two of their friends. Two that still had yet to move or make any noise. Greg's heart thumped harder than he thought ever possible as he watched.

Amber still had a gun in her hand. It hadn't been knocked lose from the kick to her legs. There was no knowing if there were any bullets left in the damn thing, but Warrick wasn't about to tempt fate. He didn't need anymore holes. None of them did. Though he would have no personal issues with putting one in that girl. She was injured somewhere it seemed, but she wasn't about to roll over and play dead.

Her small hand that was free of the gun reached out and she let her fingers brush against Nick's cheek. The Texan's eyes were closed, his lips slack. Warrick's chest froze when he couldn't make any movement of the other man's torso. Nick's pallor was almost translucent. He looked like one of those fish where you can see straight through them, into the veins and internal organs.

"He's dead," her lips formed the words with complete glee. Her eyes shined with a glow normally only seen by young children on Christmas morning. But here it was on a face, smiling in the mist of so much death. "And this one is close."

Greg watched as she shifted and leaned over to Andrew. From his angle he couldn't make out the cop's face, but from the rage on Warrick's face, it wasn't good. He heard Brass growl low in his throat, but didn't dare move his eyes from the scene in front of him. If he did, something even worst might happen.

"Yes, he's close. Brave bastard for pulling that stunt. Didn't think he had it in 'em to move anymore. But he proved me wrong. He is to blame now."

A thin strip of bloody drool ran off her bottom lip as she moved again. It dripped onto Nick's neck. Warrick could watch it slither its way down towards the floor. It didn't move in its journey. There wasn't any movement in that throat to cause any disruption.

Amber lifted her head, her smile even bigger in the yellow light cast upon her. There was more blood on her teeth, but it didn't appear to bother her in the least. In fact, Warrick was sure it was fueling her lust in this situation. She wanted death and now she was in a room that reeked of it.

"But you three are still alive. Not how the game was supposed to go."

"Look Amber. This doesn't need to happen," Brass gathered up his most authorized voice as he spoke to the girl as if she was a skittish cat, "Just put the gun down, put your hands on your head. Nothing more has to happen here. It can all end."

Her head cocked to the right, her brow drawing up. This was not something she could understand. Now that they were in this situation, no one was supposed to leave alive. Kayla had killed them all. This was the dead girl's fault.

"Kayla isn't here. Just put the gun down."

With a look of shock, Amber threw her head upright. She hadn't realized she had spoken her thoughts about that girl out loud. It just pissed her off even more.

"I think not," her hand shook, but she managed to get the gun up and right into the cute man's face. She still hadn't moved, but she wouldn't care about putting another bullet in him. From the blood soaking into her pants, Amber was sure there was a bullet wound along with that cut that killed the man. No dead man should have looks that this one did. Amber wanted to take them away.

"Please, don't do it," Warrick threw away his pride and began pleading with the girl. He might be wrong and Nick could be still alive. But not if this girl shot a bullet into Nick's forehead like she looked to be planning to do.

Amber's eyes suddenly teamed up, shining different in the light, "Too late for pretty words. Never right in times like these for pretty words. Just mess everything up. Always messes everything up."

Her fingers were twitching around on the trigger. Nick held his breath, eyes wide open as he watched the small girl over him. There was little doubt in his mind that she was going to kill him. She had no remorse, no morals to stop her from putting that bullet in his head.

"No time anymore. Nothing anymore," the girl was mumbling to herself now, "Now, say your prayers. Hands held tight. For you're going to lose your head tonight."

Warrick didn't bother to wait any longer. He threw his weight forward, trying to get his arms wrapped around the petite body before the trigger was pulled. Two shots got off before he managed to pull Amber off and away from Nick. She screamed in rage and in pain at his hold.

Now that he had his arms wrapped around her, Warrick could feel the blood from her wounds. From where he was sensing the bullet to be, the girl should have been dead. And with the blood on her teeth, she was breathing it up. Amber was injured, possibly dying. Warrick suddenly could see she was going to take out as many people as possible with her.

A shout sounded behind him. He knew that voice. It was Nick and Warrick felt a little relief to hear the other man up. But as he turned his eyes from the drifting ones of the young girl in his arms, he really wished he hadn't.

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

Being unconscious was totally overrated as far as Nick was concerned. In the darkness that his brain put him in, he could see everything and feel everything that had happened to lead him to this point. Andrew had been stupid and risked himself, again. The man came out of no where and took the crazy girl down. Of course, all hell went down. He'd been shot, twice.

There were voices going on around his head, but he was too out of it to figure out who was who. It was too much work at that moment. Nick was quite at peace taking a little break inside his own head. The outside world could wait a moment longer. Not like it was going anywhere anytime soon.

Something was resting on his chest, weighing him down. Panic ripped through his mind for a few seconds. He was immobile, no way to get up if he were to wake. And now waking was all he wanted to do.

His eyes felt like they were glued shut and Nick felt as if he were wasting a year's supply of energy on getting them to even shift under closed eyelids. Some of his fingers moved, but that was all he could give as a sign to the outside world around him. The voices were louder, crazier. Something moved quickly.

Nick pried his eyes open to only see that barrel once again. His stomach churned at the sight, but there was precious little time to process the feeling. Something large and dark slammed into the smaller figure that must have been weighing down his body. The gun jerked and two bullets slammed from the end.

But neither even hit Nick. Close, but not into his flesh.

There was a groan and a slapping of flesh on the tile next to him. Nick ignored his body's protests at any and all movements. He pushed himself upright and looked to where the noise had come from. Andy had taken it again. This time, he lost.

His fingers shook as he reached out to find a pulse, a beat of any kind. Nick let out a shout of despair when he found nothing. Andrew, his friend, the cop, was dead.

It was like a numbing shock. Nick barely registered the other people around him anymore as he took in the scene. His body reminded his brain that he was injured as well and should cease all movement, but his heart ached too much to listen. He could worry about his own pains later when he was sitting in another damn hospital bed.

Right now, he could throw his pain off and be there for a dead man. Tears ran down his cheeks without his permission. Someone placed a hand on his shoulder. There was another sob in the room. But all Nick saw was the bloody man on the floor in front of his hands. And it hurt.

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

The distance from the girl they had found in the street and the school was longer than Catherine had been prepared for. It was a mess in this area. People were rummaging around, looting anything they wished. None looked to be too concerned with any dangers that might arise. This was that moment after a crisis when people forgot to care for others, only themselves.

She and Grissom had to avoid a small scouting party. They ducked behind a half standing home and sloshed around in the mud. Catherine cursed in her head that one of her favorite pairs of work pants were as good as destroyed. And these weren't one of the cheaper pairs.

Grissom darted away from her with a sudden surge of energy. She dug the heels of her boots into the soft ground and tracked after the taller man. There were several more houses to dart around. Grissom changed their direction back to the street when they encountered a labyrinth of fences.

Their shoes hit the pavement in almost the same tempo. It was soothing in a way. Gave the female CSI something new to focus on as they moved forward. Also allowed her to keep up better with the longer strides of her friend.

"I see it." His voice was clear and cut through the night. But Grissom kept it clean as always as he took in the structure that once was a sturdy school. Vehicles were turned around, upside down all around it. He would have laughed at another moment at the sight of the CSI SUV still in its yellow lines. Only thing wrong was the stop sign piercing the back window.

"They never left," Catherine called out as she took in the truck as well, "Where do you think they'd be?"

Slowing down a bit, Grissom scanned what was left of the place. He could make out what once was a front entrance by the cement walkway. There was a large, square room on the side closer to them. That had to be the gym. And there weren't any other large rooms like that on this side.

"Band room's on the other side. Come on."

Catherine shook her head, but kept all comments to herself as she pushed off a little faster. The jumped and weaved around things like on the street, but things were worst here. It looked to be tornado central in this area. She had never seen damage done by a tornado before this close and personal. It amazed her and took all words from her brain. It was scary.

It was a long school and Catherine was breathing heavy by the time they were around to another large room, shaped in a half oval.

"This must be the band room. Always seemed to have some shape like this," Grissom commented as he walked over to where there was a truck tailgate hanging out. He placed a hand on it and pushed as if it were a small toy. It didn't budge of course.

"How do we get in?"

Grissom removed his attention to the truck and took a couple steps back. He scanned the mess of bricks and tried to see anything that would leave them an entrance. So far he was coming up completely short. With a few steps away from Catherine, he moved slowly along the line of wall. There was a hole in the side of it.

"Catherine, found something!"

The relief in that call was enough to bolt Catherine from her spot. Sure enough there was a small hole a few feet above the ground. Catherine had to frown as she looked at it.

"No way in hell we're fitting in there."

"You could. You'd fit."

"Not even going to go there," Catherine's blonde hair whipped as she shook her head, "No way my hips will make it even an inch in. I'm not that tiny."

Grissom frowned and dropped his eyes to his partner's hips without a thought. A cough and raised eyebrow made him remember his manners. His cheeks flushed a little. Grissom was thankful of the darkness that helped to hide that rare physical emotion.

"Well..." he turned on his heels and looked around them. There had to be something he could use to pry it open, make it bigger. Just as he was about to curse, he got an idea. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Wha...?"

The man was off before Catherine could even finish her word. She watched him run back in the direction they had just come. Shrugging, she turned back to the wall and moved closer to the hole. Catherine raised her hand and used it to measure the width. Laughing slightly to herself, she pulled her hand down. She would never be able to get her body in that thing.

She tapped her fingers along her pant leg as she waited for what seemed like forever. Finally, Grissom was walking back towards her, stop sign over his shoulder. Catherine's eyebrows rose to her hairline.

"What is that?"

"Stop sign."

"I can see that. Where the hell did you get it?"

"Pulled it out of the truck, back there. Didn't you see if?"

Catherine simply shook her head and stopped that topic of conversation. She wanted to know why he went and got the damn thing. "What you planning on doing with it?"

He walked away from her, not saying a word. Grissom grinned to himself once he knew that Catherine couldn't see his face anymore. There was nothing he liked more than leaving that woman in the dark. She would catch on soon enough.

The bricks underneath the hole seemed unstable. If he pushed the sign in just right, he might be able to dislodge the rest and make it bigger for them to fit through. Walking slowly, looking closely, Grissom found a spot to shove the sign in. He placed his foot on the end and pushed.

"Think its going to work?" Catherine was closer now. She understood what he was trying to do, but didn't see how it would work. Stop signs weren't that sturdy, but bricks were.

"Only one to find out."

He grunted as he fought with it. It creaked and grated against the rock. There was some shifting, some movement. Grissom jumped back just in time as the rest of the wall started to fall. Rocks and bricks fell around his feet. Dust flew up into the air, forcing its way into Grissom's lungs. He coughed and waved his hand in front of his face to get rid of some of the annoyance.

When everything settled, he stepped back to stand next to Catherine. He smiled now so that Catherine could see it this time. The whole was about four feet long now, two feet wide.

"No problem getting in now."

Catherine gave him a small shove and moved forward. Her small flashlight shined into the room as she moved carefully inward. It was dark. It was quiet. She felt more than heard Grissom follow her into the room. They walked together to where they could make out a door.

Looking around at the damage, Catherine couldn't suppress the shiver that went through her body. Her boys had been in this mess. They had to deal with what happened during that storm. She only hoped she would be able to help them through this and put them back together. Each one would need plenty of help when everything was said and done.

Grissom moved through the doorway, looked into the hallway. He could see where the tornado ripped across, taking the hallway down. It was closed off and he was sure that every other exit was gone. His guys were trapped for far too long.

"Jim? Warrick?"

His voice cut through the darkness, but there was no answer. But there was some sort of sound coming from the doorway he placed his beam of light on. With a quick glance at Catherine, he walked forward. He pushed open the cracked door and took in the sight waiting for him on the floor of the place.

His heart hurt at what he saw.

***

#15: The thunder rolls...

There wasn't much light at all. It was only lit up with a few sources from a few flashlights. There really wasn't much to go on, but Grissom couldn't help be stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway. From what he could see, all his guys were in this room.

A small shove to the small of his back moved him efficiently from the entry way. He saw blonde hair flying outward as Catherine rushed past him. There was a gasp and small cry from the female CSI. Grissom's hands suddenly went cold for some reason he would figure out later. For now, he brushed the feeling off and forced himself into action.

His foot connected with a round object on his trek. Focusing his beam downward, he saw another flashlight. Not one to waste opportunities, Grissom picked it up and used both now. It was little difference, but the fact that it made one at all was good enough for him.

He glanced from one person to another, trying to take it all in. First there were two teenage boys, both dead. Then a young girl, barely alive, holding on to her last breaths. As much as he knew he should be a professional and study these three closer, Grissom wanted to check on his people first.

Brass and Greg were kneeling on the floor, their backs to the supervising CSI. The detective seemed to be whole, though Grissom could make out a shallow cut on the side of gruff man's face, up near the part of the ear he could see. Nothing that looked to need immediate attention. That man was an ox and it would take a train to take him out.

His younger CSI didn't look very comfortable now that Grissom took a closer look. Greg's leg was out from his body in an odd angle. There was blood on his pant leg. A lot of blood on his pant leg. And what appeared to be more. But his back was straight, shoulders firm.

Satisfying himself with a quick look over of the two, he focused on his taller CSI. Warrick was leaning backward, red headed girl in his lap. But from how the man was holding her, she wasn't a person to be fragile with. Warrick's hands held tight to her even as her eyes fluttered as if fighting not to sleep. The man's face showed pure exhaustion and pain from something he had been through. With the girl in the way, Grissom couldn't be sure of what really was wrong with Warrick, but could see the man was still with them.

Grissom turned his attention to the hunched figure, the one receiving Catherine's hand of support. Nick's shoulders were shaking from silent sobs. The rest of his body was as tight as a bowstring. He wasn't leaning towards Catherine, or anyone for that matter. Well, anyone moving anyways. Grissom could only see a part of the Texan's face. It was shadowed, pale, sickly.

Each step he took echoed loudly around him. It suddenly seemed to be the only noise in the room and it made Grissom want to fidget. He stopped by Greg's side. Now he could see Andrew. His head shook slowly, not even realizing he was making the motion. The young cop was dead. He was lost to the world.

Words were lost to him.

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

Warrick had looked up when Grissom and Catherine walked into the room. For some reason that he couldn't figure out, he wasn't surprised by this. There was no reason for them to be here, but there they were. It fit perfectly with this night. Oddness all wrapped up in nice packaging, that was for sure.

He held tight to Amber though he could feel she had lost all her fight. She was limp, chest moving ever so softly. But she wasn't sane and he wasn't about to let her up. The girl was still possible of anything while she still had a heart that beat. He didn't want to test it and see how much.

But it was a hard decision. Warrick could see Nick was suffering from the loss of Andrew, as well as all his own physical pain. The man's shoulders were trembling, face set in hard lines. His hair looked like it was black paint wisped over his forehead and eyes. Warrick wanted to go check on him.

"What happened?" Grissom asked, voice strong and clear in the chaos.

"We got trapped," Greg looked to be in a trance as his lips moved on autopilot, "They had guns. Killed each other. Tried to kill us."

Catherine shook her head, eyes watery, "Are you guys okay?"

A snort sounded from Brass, "What a million dollar question. We're going to need a couple ambulances here. Each of your CSI's are hurt. And Andrew..."

The name trailed off and a whimper sounded from Nick. His hand flew up to beat at his face, trying to compose himself in front of the others. But the pain of his injuries and the confusion on what they had gone through were too much. Nick's mind wasn't able to deal with everything at once.

"Its okay, Nicky."

Catherine's hand tightened as she leaned in to whisper in his ears. She wanted him to calm down and relax. His blood pressure was too high from all the stress. She could almost feel the rush of blood under her hand, through the cloth of his shirt, and the cells of his skin. Nick was going to pass out soon if he didn't stop.

His lips trembled right along with his shoulders, "No, not this time."

Each was silent for a moment. Warrick tightened his arms without realizing it. The girl barely shifted in the new grasp. Bloody drool was soaking his arm, but he didn't make to move anything.

Grissom reached for his phone and flipped it open. The looks he received at doing something so simple was almost scary, but he ignored the others. It was just a simple cell phone after all. They all had one. He flipped it open and dialed in a quick number.

From his spot, Greg leaned forward a little more and shifted his leg straight out. He listened to his supervisor call the local sheriff and explain what they needed. It helped to distract him from the numbness that had now taken his limb captive. Greg was nervous about what that meant since he had never been shot before.

And his friends were all in different stages of shock. He had been through it before, in an explosion, knew what it looked like. Nick was the worst into it. Greg shook his head slightly, thinking that it was probably from the fact the Texan was denying things that were plain as day. Sure, he didn't want to admit his friend was gone, but Greg at least was trying. It looked like Nick wasn't in for that game today.

He suddenly could feel new eyes on him. Greg lifted his head and took in the sharp gaze from Catherine. She was testing out something on him. "You okay, Greg?"

"Sure, just shot in the leg. Nothing more really. Got off pretty easy," he tried to brush off the attention so it could be focused where it belonged more.

But Catherine wouldn't have it, "Just stay still and relax. You are all going to be okay soon. We'll get you back to Vegas and set it all right again. Just relax Greg."

It was soothing and he was reminded of his own mother. A small grin twisted up his lips and he nodded his head, his hair bobbing with the action. He had learned since his accident in the lab that Catherine would have her way no matter what got in the way, even the injured party. Better to just let it happen and accept she was going to baby you a little bit.

Her eyes held Greg's for a second longer to reassure herself that the youngest of her boys wasn't about to go anywhere. Catherine hesitated only slightly before moving to make eye contact with Warrick. It wasn't as carefree and casual as it used to be. Now she had to hold back a little and not let anything get through that she didn't want. He was a married man and didn't need as much from her anymore. But it still hurt, in more ways than one. But now wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

"Warrick? You?"

He grumbled, shaking his head, "Nah, just worry about Nicky. He needs ya more than me right now. I got it."

"Alright, but when that ambulance gets here, no fighting them. Just shut up and listen to what they say."

Warrick knew that tone and knew better than to try to fight it. A glance at Grissom offered no help and it was clear his supervisor meant the same thing. He tried to straighten his back a little, the muscles spasm from being stuck in the same position for way too long. There were footsteps getting closer to him.

"Here, let me help," Brass was holding out his hands to take the girl away from him, "Just lay her on the floor. She's not going anywhere anytime soon. But we don't want her dying on us. Have to get some more information out of her."

"Alright, just give me a hand."

The two of them lay Amber on the cool tile, tilting her head to the side so she would have less risk on drowning in her own saliva. A small bloody lake quickly formed beneath her heaving chest. This new position had opened up her lungs more and her body was taking full advantage. But her eyes were closed, soft against her pale flesh.

Anywhere else, Warrick might comment on what a nice looking kid she was. Looked to be innocent and sweet. One of those types to help older women across the street, hold a little boy's hand on the slide. But he was given enough data on her to figure she had never been like that. Always hiding behind that sweetness, waiting for the right moment. She was a pure predator.

Grissom kneeled by the two as the looked down on the one who had started this all into motion, "Anyone going to tell me what happened now?"

"Geez Gil, just give us a break. Hasn't been an easy night after all. Next time, you can take on a squad of crazy teenagers and tornados. Then I'll ask the annoying questions. Sound good to you?"

It was sarcastic enough to evoke a chuckle from Warrick, "We'll put it all in the report for ya. Even sign it all official like if you want."

"Not amusing," Grissom's lips barely moved, along with the rest of his contours.

Warrick sobered up quickly, stomach dropping into his shoes, "No, it's not. Not at all...I don't really know what happened. It is all like one of those damn bad dreams that you're shocked your brain thought up. Nothing ever made me think anything like this was possible."

"It is always in life's little twists and turns that we learn was can truly happen. No one can predict it, but we have to be ready for anything, take it as it comes," Grissom kept his voice low.

None of the men could think of anything to say as they looked down at the still girl. She was the symbol they would have to move around to work into the future. Now that demon had a face, a voice. Warrick wasn't thrilled at that prospect, but figured it might help things get along easier.

He turned his attention away from the conversation Grissom and Brass had taken up and looked over at his other friends. It was then he realized that having a face to the problem wasn't going to help Nick. This was only going to make it worse for his brother.

"Ah man. Nick, you okay, bro?"

But he gained no response from the targeted man. Catherine looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Now Warrick could see the tears that were begging to escape her eyes though she was fighting them back. It twisted his heart up a little more.

With a groan, he moved his lanky body so that he was now sitting next to Nick. The other man didn't move or even acknowledge the new person next to him. Warrick looked over at Catherine, hoping his eyes conveyed what he wanted. The nod he received was enough to prove it worked.

Catherine squeezed Nick's shoulder before slapping it down onto her thigh, "Come on Greg. Let's get you up off this floor and onto a chair. I want to see your leg."

The young man looked like a deer in brights. He had been quiet, not trying to draw attention to himself the entire time. It was enough to watch and observe. Others needed more help than him. Greg didn't want to have anyone think any different. But now Catherine was on him. And from the look he was getting, there was no point in saying anything negative.

"Alright, but gonna need some help," he smiled sweetly at her.

"Of course," Catherine stood in front of him and offered both her hands, "Come on. Show me those tough muscles you got."

Neither Warrick or Nick watched the two move away from them. Nick's eyes were locked on the gray face of Andrew, Warrick on the white washed face of Nick. Both their breathing was quiet, on beat together. Though Nick's would hitch and jerk every now and then with his gasps and hiccups.

Taking a deep breath of his own, Warrick finally looked down to study Andrew's face, "Ah shit. So sorry man,"

That managed to get Nick to move. His right hand reached up, trembling, and rubbed at his nose. Nick sniffled a little and shook his head, clearing some thoughts away. Warrick felt as if he were hovering over his friend, but didn't want to move away from even a moment.

"You okay, Nicky?"

Nick cleared his throat a little, "Sure, why not."

"Not a good answer. Nothing more?"

"What ya want, 'Rick?" Nick huffed as he turned a glare onto the taller man.

"Just a little honesty. That's all I'm asking for. Nor a whole lot to ask for, man. Then, you can ignore me the entire way back to Vegas."

A heavy, loaded sigh left Nick. It left his body looking deflated. He looked like a young boy, who had just been told his favorite toy had been lost somewhere far away. His shoulders curled downward, tight towards his chest. Nick pulled his legs a little closer, hissing in discomfort at the pull of muscle and bone. There was pure mutiny throughout his entire frame. His mind was beginning to lose.

"It hurts..."

Warrick had to lean closer to catch the whispered words. His brow drew together at the comment, trying to determine what was meant by it. It was a loaded couple of words. There were many things that could hurt. Warrick just needed to pick one and go with it.

Or ask another question, "What hurts?"

Squeezing his eyes tightly together, Nick shook his entire body a little, "Everything. Just don't want to do this anymore. Want out."

Reacting on instinct, Warrick reached out a hand and brushed it across the other man's forehead. His own grandmother had done this all the time when he was a child. It helped to calm the muscles of his face, allow him to calm himself down. And it seemed to work a little on Nick. The lines around his eyes weren't quite as tight, though not gone.

"Almost there, bro. Just have to wait for the cavalry to get here. Then you can take a nap or something."

"Or something..." Nick snapped his eyes open and looked back down at Andrew. The sight was suddenly too much for him. His entire digestive system twisted and lurched. Nick threw himself up to his feet before he even knew he did it. And from the shocked look on Warrick's face, the taller man wasn't ready for it either.

"Need to move."

Nick bolted from the room faster than he should have been able to move. Everyone appeared to be shocked at this sudden development, but there was no time to think or worry about them. No, this wasn't about them this time. It was bigger then them. And it made Nick feel even more nauseous as he moved.

His legs gave out on his only about ten feet from the doorway. Nick went down hard onto his knees, crying out at the impact. It was hard enough to get his teeth to clack together painfully. There was shifting within his torso. Pain filled every one of his nerve endings.

The tears couldn't be held back now. Any stubbornness he had left was wiped out. His eyes filled and overflowed. Air was sucked into his lungs and pushed out in shaking sobs. Movement occurred around him, a steady arm went around his shoulders/

He blindly reached out and bunched his fists up in the shirt he felt brushing against his arm. The scent of Warrick slammed into him, but he didn't have the energy to find his pride in this matter. It was lost in the flood. He was lost. It all hurt. And for once, he wasn't going to hold it in. Nick Stokes was going to let it all out, consequences be damned.

Warrick tightened his arm around Nick, trying to keep the man from injuring himself anymore as well as trying to comfort him. He had followed the Texan out of the room, waving everyone else back. This was something Nick was going to killing himself over later in time and Warrick wanted to make sure there weren't that many witnesses. But he was pretty sure they all knew what was going on anyways. Nick was being fairly loud in his pain and grief.

"It's alright. It's okay. Just breathe, bro."

Shaking his head, Nick tried to answer, tell him no, but couldn't get the words to form. Over his sobs, he could hear new noises, ones that he hadn't thought he was going to hear for a long time. There were sirens, lots of them coming. Help was finally coming. It made his sob even harder.

"They're coming, Nicky. Gonna go home soon. Gonna be okay."

Warrick kept talking, trying to keep something for Nick to focus on. The sobs were rough as Nick tried to fight them under control. He wasn't about to let total strangers see him in this position. These people would have enough to judge on him. And it made a small sliver of his being nervous and ashamed. But it was ignored.

There were footsteps behind them. Warrick turned to look at Grissom. The older man looked completely different. It took a second for Warrick to figure it out. Grissom was hurting for his guys, upset at what had happened. Emotions were strong enough to even break through the wall that Grissom had constructed around his face.

"I'll go wait for them. Direct them in here. Don't let him move. Catherine will hold down the room for now. Just don't move."

He nodded as Grissom walked away, with a quick step. Brass shuffled quickly after, mumbling something about that CSI needing some help with this and not to leave the detective behind. Nick chuckled a little under his arm.

"Oh, and what's so funny?"

Nick raised a white hand to run it through his mop tresses, "Old married couple. Bicker like the best of 'em."

"Got that right," Warrick laughed a little. He relaxed a little. And, he hurt a little more.

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

Catherine couldn't sit still. There were ambulances on their way. She had a rush of adrenaline and it made her want to mother even more. But Greg kept pushing her away. They had been left alone in the room with dead bodies and injured teenagers. Not a whole lot to mother, other than Greg.

"Come on, Catherine. I'm fine. Just leave it...don't touch that!"

She lifted her hand, question in her eyes. All she had been doing is checking to make sure Greg only had one injury. There was nothing implied by anything. Hell, she had barely applied any pressure.

"Need to lighten up, Greggo."

"And you need to stop feeling me up. If you want to see the goods, need to buy me dinner first at least. Would be the lady like thing to do after all. Then you can look all you want."

Greg smirked at the smack to his arm. It helped to cover his pain, his confusion. Catherine was smothering him, that was for sure. And he needed to distract her a little. Show her less pain. Then maybe they would get him out of this place completely unmolested.

"Like you'd have a chance. Can't do punk rock in dancing shoes," Catherine threw her blonde hair over her shoulder and moved away a little. Not far enough for Greg's liking, but it was a better distance.

He signed, dropping his head a little, "Never been shot before. I dunno, didn't hurt, then it did. Now again, not so much. Don't quite get it. I thought it was supposed to be one of the worst pains."

"Can't help ya there. Never been shot. Been in situations with bullets flying, but never intercepted one myself. But I've heard it is sometimes odd. Besides, once the shock wears off, you'll feel it just fine. Be thankful for this."

Forgetting that she wasn't mothering anymore, Catherine reached out and took the younger man's hand in her own. It was an anchor for both of them, quite possibly more for Catherine. She kept seeing the scene as they walked fresh into the room. And she could still hear the sobs from Nick as he rushed from the room.

It took her only a minute to listen to the sounds of the paramedics rushing into the building. Orders were being barked out on radios, static filled the air. People were here, people in control. She felt as if she had none. Someone was going to have to help her catch everyone on this one.

A gurney squeaked as it was led into the room. There were several lanterns of light placed on the ground. It cast yellow shadows around the room. Without thinking, Catherine turned Greg's face completely to her. She could see what Andrew looked like, but didn't want the young CSI to see it. Catherine could handle it. She just didn't want to make Greg try to.

Several people surrounded her. They pulled at her arms, asking her if she was okay. Someone pulled Greg from her. He made a sound of pain as they moved his leg. Greg reached down to grab at his thigh to try to ward off some of the throbbing.

He was dazed a little by everything. The lights were a little too bright and made his head hurt. Someone was shinning a pen light into his right eye. Greg gasped and turned away. Pressure was applied to the gun shot wound in his leg. He hissed through clenched teeth.

"Sir, can you walk? Do you have any other injuries?"

"No, just my leg," Greg tried to think, but was failing at it. It all ached inside his brain.

"Alright. Just hold it tight. We'll get you out of here in no time. Just going to move you outside the building at first. Have others we need to get to first."

Greg didn't have a chance to answer as his arms were pulled upwards. His weight shifted upright and he was standing on his good leg. One of his arms was draped over someone's shoulders and he was being pulled. He stumbled a little, but was able to keep up with the steps.

There were more lanterns in the hallway. He followed the lights, the bodies around him. A reassurance from Catherine reached his ears every couple of steps. As they entered the band room, it helped a great deal. As did the rush of fresh air. He sucked up a lung full with complete greed.

"Here, sir. Just sit here. Try to breathe and relax. If you get dizzy or sick, lower your head to your knees and takes some deep breaths. We'll get someone over here to check on that wound and get you hooked up to a line. Not too much longer, sir."

Getting called sir so many times was going to go to his head. Greg just nodded and allowed them to sit him down on something. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it held. And Catherine sat next to him. She took his hand again.

"Where's Nick? Warrick?" he asked in a small voice, exhaustion creeping in quickly.

Catherine looked around, trying to see someone she knew. Some she caught sight of Grissom's hair, "They're over there. Looks like they get one of the rigs first."

Yawning suddenly, Greg nodded and leaned his head on Catherine's shoulder, "Good. They need it more than me. I'd walk back if they let me."

"Uh huh. Whatever, Greg. You can jog next to the truck, I'll time ya," Catherine ran her free hand through Greg's hair. A small, sad smile settled over her lips. It was almost over.

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

The two older men didn't know what to do with themselves. Warrick would have laughed if he wasn't losing all his energy. They were all outside now. Just had to wait to be carted away. But he was fine with it. He was there, with Nick, with their friends.

Grissom and Brass were talking with the sheriff, trying to figure out the best way to do this. There were only three ambulances, but more injured people than that. If Warrick had his way, Nick would already be gone in his own private carriage. But he didn't have his way, Nick did. And Nick wanted everyone else taken care of first. Including Andrew.

Two gurneys were pulled through the destruction, two teenage girls attached to the tops. Natalie and Amber both had oxygen masks secured over their faces. People were running around each, talking quickly. Both were going to be saved if at all possible. Then they would serve justice. Someone was going down for all of this. Warrick would prefer to see both.

Snatches of the conversation to his side hit him as he fought to keep his eyes open. Seems the sheriff got to work quickly and had done a little research on Amber's web page. It was all there. They had detailed everything out on that spot. Anyone could read it and see what they were planning to do. And who they planned on killing and injuring to do it.

They had planned things so there would be a couple extra kids along to frame and possibly use if need be. Brought in guns and knives just in case. Never wanted to be short a weapon supply when one went killing. All they missed was the weather report.

A third gurney left the building now. Nick looked up now at the sound. Though there really wasn't one from anyone. Only two people worked with this one. The sheet was pulled up and over the top. His eyes ached as he watched them move Andrew over to one of the ambulances.

His body had been slowly leaning into Warrick from where he had been placed. Blood was slowly running from his wounds, draining away from his grasp. Tiny white dots were floating in his vision. All sounds carried an odd fuzz to them.

Out of nowhere, two paramedics dropped in front of them. Orders and instructions were being told. Nick couldn't bring himself to listen all that closely. He just kept his eyes open and watched what was going on.

Greg and Catherine were being ushered into a squad car, a paramedic getting in behind them. The lights were bright on top as it revved up and prepared to make its journey away from this mess.

He watched through a fog glass as Grissom and Brass moved away with the sheriff. Nick did catch their worried glance. They both knew as well as he did there was little they would be able to do for the two remaining CSI's. Professional help was better suited here.

"I need you two to walk with us. We're going to get you out of here now. Have to get you into the rig."

Nick felt as if he were watching the scene from a few feet away. His body was heaved upright. Everything had turned to jelly and Nick couldn't get his feet underneath him. They had to do all the work for him. He couldn't even keep his head upright.

The ambulance seemed to be tall, high from the ground. Nick frowned as he looked at it. There was no way he was getting up into that. But hands suddenly turned him and pushed his downward. His body came into contact with something soft. He was being strapped down onto something. Panic flooded his senses for a moment. Until he felt Warrick's hand close around his.

They were both loaded, him on the bed, Warrick on the bench. He wondered at this for a moment. There had been three ambulances and from his experience, that meant only three gurneys. Something was pushed through the flesh of his arm and those thoughts were lost. His eyes were heavy. But he fought to find Warrick's gaze.

His best friend was looking out the ambulance's rear window. There was a look of sadness in those green eyes. Nick didn't like it and coughed a little. It worked and go Warrick's attention. Nick lost his battle and gave into the drugs. He signed into his sea of darkness and stillness.

He never saw the body on the ground, sheet still in place. Or how Grissom and Brass stood over it, protecting it from everything. Nick missed how the cops began to take things apart, create a new crime scene. No, he missed it all. But there would be plenty of time to think and remember in dreams. He wasn't going to be the only one to have nightmares of this one.

Twisters would ruin the world, guns would take away kids. Red hair would clash with the gray rain clouds. Laughter would beat out the thunder. But right now, only silence. The band was done. The curtain had fallen. All that was left, the empty theater with echoes of what was.

The End

***

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