Title: Coffee To Go
By: anmani
Summary: Greg, Nick and Vartann answers a call and things doesn't go according to plan.
Beta: serenity!
This is a purified angst study told from Greg's POV and a friendship fic. It is also dedicated to all you struggling with the bitch also known as real life.

Pain shot through his left hand as Vartann tore the wheel round to speed away. All Greg could do not to pass out was focus on the detective's neck and the thin droplets of blood falling from his hair.

His left hand connected hard with the bad guy's flank, but the pain didn't register. Instead he tried to get a bearing on the whereabouts of the others.

Nick yelped out an inhuman sound as they hit a pothole and as much as he wanted to reach out for his wounded friend he couldn't, not with his good hand buried in the cop's thigh. Vartann had used his and Nick's belts to tie off the blood flow to Nick's legs since they were both badly broken.

Kicking for all his worth Greg heard the unmistakable sound of bones breaking and dared to cast a glance towards Nick, only to see his friend drop to the ground on legs that fell oddly. Then a shot pierced the air and the uniform who had been like a pillar of salt keeled over. High on adrenaline Greg bit down hard on the limb nearest his mouth, but the beast merely shook him off like a small bug.

The truck seemed to take forever to pick up speed and the mere thought of them following made him push down on an imaginary accelerator.

"You okay back there Greg?" Vartann more barked than asked.

"No, but alive, so's the cop. But he's bad, man." He almost felt sun struck, so badly was he shaking.

"Nick?" Vartann followed his question up with a gentle slap on the cheek.

Veering his head Nick grunted and mumbled something in the line of present. Another pothole elicited a string of curses from the Texan and a far more coherent responsive.

"I'm here alright!"

"Check your cell or make the radio work!" The detective had to be hurt badly though he still seemed to be able to control his body fully.

Officer Thomas looked as he was frozen to the spot and Nick moved over towards him to guide him outside. Greg turned and took a step towards the door when a loud sound made him freeze in motion. The sound was the porch door being thrust off it hinges and hitting Vartann in the head, if the following thump and the man he spun around to see laying on the ground was anything to go by. Nick gave the officer a shove towards the exit and with his gun aimed high, moved towards the grounded man.

The uniform moaned and coughed next to him and Greg had to struggle to keep his fingers in place. But the more he fought the more he felt like he was slipping.

"Greg tell me your injuries and his." Vartann's voice broke when he hit yet another hole in the road.

"My left hand is- I guess it's broken or something. And he..." a cough forced its way out. "He's bleeding from his femoral artery, but I'm trying to keep- keep pressure on it."

A series of coughs followed and the unmistakable taste of blood spread in his mouth. Only then did his brain register pain coming from his ribcage.

Vartann was completely out and no help whatsoever. The only advantage Greg could see in this match was that the guy he was fighting was clumsy and wasted many a blow on the air, but those that hit left the area numbed.

The blood oozing from Vartann's hair was becoming redder and Greg knew he should say something. But the words kept escaping him, there was just that damn pain from his hand and chest ruling his mind. With all the strength he could muster he started to speak, but the small squeak got drowned out by Nick.

"Officer Down! We need ambulances now!" A low moan from Officer Thomas stole his attention and Greg turned as best he could to listen to the man that he almost knew for certain to be dying.

A lone patrol unit sat out in front of what looked like a boarded up house in the early dawn. The house had a tall fence shielding most of the property from curious eyes. Greg jumped eagerly out, but the bounce in his step died when he saw the pale, drawn face on the uniform leaning on the patrol unit. The man was middle aged and with more than a few donuts under his belt.

"Officer Thomas?" Vartann asked, clearly expecting a short briefing on the scene.

"Never seen- anything like-" the man was fighting to speak and Greg wondered why he chose to talk about the scene.

Didn't people on the brink of death think about their loved ones? Berating himself, Greg knew he had no right to write the man off as dead just yet.

"House- empty- last month- only heard rumors-" the wheezing worsened and Officer Thomas fell silent.

The officer just nodded and waved them towards the fence with his flashlight. The three of them followed but all more tense than normal, a silent officer at a scene usually spoke of a hideous crime. There was a door with peeling paint on rusty hinges in the fence and the uniform elbowed it open for them.

"It's-"he swallowed audibly a few times. "round the back."

"They're setting up a roadblock to stop them." Nick's voice penetrated the dense fog settling over his mind.

Like a witness to an accident Greg couldn't help but look and saw a cloud of dust following them in the distance. His heartbeat upped its pace further and he felt a cold layer cover his body.

"Damn that's far!" Vartann cursed but Greg hadn't heard what caused that outburst.

Shaking the cobwebs from his brain Greg knew that the key to survival was to stay focused. The truck lurched to one side as a wheel caught the edge of the road and he nearly lost his fierce grip on the uniform's wound. He wasn't one to use profanities but a series escaped him as Vartann manhandled the truck back on track. Officer Thomas drew in another loud ragged breath, making Greg suspect damage to the man's lungs as well.

"Did you clear the scene?" Vartann shone his light at the uniform as he spoke in hushed tones.

"I didn't go inside, just checked out here." the man struggled to hold his voice together.

Nick immediately went for his gun as did Vartann and Greg grabbed his flashlight harder, prepared to use it as a weapon. "Call for backup now!" Vartann ordered.

"There ain't none, Sheriff's in the hospital with the missus, she's bad with cancer and Bubba's gone into Vegas to be with his dame. Just little ol' me ‘ere Sir."

Nick pulled out his cell and started punching in a number.

"Ain't gonna do you no good. Lightening took down our mast two days back. Gotta use landlines until they fix it up."

"Then let's get out and call the cavalry." Vartann turned and looked at first Nick then Greg who both readily agreed.

"Greg?"

"Greg?"

"GREG?!"

It was funny how he could hear Nick, but Nick couldn't hear him. He would've laughed if his muscles only would do as his brain told them, but they seemed to have gone on strike. The only ones he had command of was those of his right hand keeping Officer Thomas alive.

"Answer me Greg! Come on Greggo, you gotta stay with us." Nick's pleading voice burned a hole in his heart.

Biting his tongue was a trick Papa Olaf had taught him when things hurt bad, a sudden pain was good to refocus, the old man had claimed. It did the trick and he managed to utter enough of a reply to satisfy Nick.

"What happened to you Detective?" Nick was clearly fighting to stay conscious.

A second shot was fired and the man he was fighting lost his momentum. Not one to miss a chance Greg brought his knee to the other man's groin as hard as he could before running to Nick's aid. Deadly aware that bad guy number two had Nick's gun, Greg stayed low hoping to be missed.

The third shot came from behind him and caused bad guy number two to stagger.

"Get the uniform Greg!" Vartann hissed. "I'll get Nick."

The instinct to fight was quickly replaced with that of flight and Greg swung the heavier man over his shoulder without a second thought and ran for the door. He was only dimly aware of what happened behind him, but Vartann disarmed bad guy number two and picked Nick up as far as he was aware.

"Got whacked on the head with something heavy." The words were more slurred than before.

"The porch door." Greg added.

The blood dripping from Vartann's hair was now a fresh, bright red and the drops hardly drops anymore, a steady stream would be more appropriate. In the middle of all the mayhem Greg couldn't help but muse over the fact that nobody called Vartann by his first name and that he didn't even know it. It was always Detective or Vartann when people addressed him.

A gunshot rang through the cab of the truck and he ducked on instinct.

"How did those fuckers get so close?" Nick cried out in desperation.

"Dunno, roadblock- coming- up- soon." Vartann was forcing one word out a time.

Once outside the fence the pain set in and Greg realized that his left hand had been mangled by the brute man. With the truck still a few feet away he fought a losing battle to carry Officer Thomas, but Vartann kept commanding him from behind and he felt his body give what little it had left.

Vartann literally threw Nick into the passenger seat before giving Greg a hand with Officer Thomas. Greg hauled the man into the backseat and discovered in the lit cabin that the man was bleeding from what appeared to be his femoral artery. He quickly dug the fingers of his right hand into the torn flesh and found the pumping blood vessel. Goosebumps broke out on his flesh once it dawned on him that the man's life now entirely depended on how long he could keep his fingers in place.

"No more- no more trash runs for me!" Nick gritted out through a clenched jaw.

Greg hadn't really looked at the Texan's legs until then and instantly regretted doing so. What he could see of the left was enough to know that Nick wouldn't walk on that leg for a long time coming. There was something protruding from just above the knee and Greg prayed that it wasn't one of Nick's own bones. Even though Doc Robbins was a walking ad for having a good life despite missing a few limbs, it wasn't something that Nick needed.

If there was one person Greg thought had been through enough it was Nick. His friend had a way of ending up in trouble. The man was intelligent, skilled, sympathetic and lovable, yet trouble just attached to him like iron to a magnet.

Greg watched in horror as one of the shadows came to life and jumped at Nick. His peripheral vision caught a movement on the porch and Greg surged forward to protect his colleagues. He focused on the detective lying knocked out and the figure moving from the porch towards him. Greg let his trainer's words about attack strategies wash through his head as he launched himself at the dark figure and tried to get a hold.

Greg heard rather than saw Nick struggle with his attacker since he was doing his best to control his own opponent. He had fought men bigger than himself before at the gym, but this one was huge and it felt as if the limbs were solid oak beams. Every punch he got in hurt like hell on his hands and the flashlight broke on the very first strike.

"Call that trash again and I'll stop the car right here and let them eat us alive." For a man never to lose his cool Vartann's statement shocked both CSIs.

"No stopping man, nah ah, not until we've got some heavy artillery between us and them." Greg couldn't care less about his voice having a girly and very panicky sound to it.

He was scared shitless of what he'd seen and the brutal strength that the bad guys had displayed. The cold dampness on his skin was seeping deeper and chilling him to the bone. Shaking his head he forced his teeth to not start clattering.

"Greg's right, no stopping." Nick twisted his head to look out the back and Greg nearly broke at the intense pain and fear displayed on his friends face.

But he was determined to hold it together, he could be as tough as Nick. The sun was stretching its rays across the ground, but there was no warmth in them. The truck hit another pothole and his left hand landed hard on his thigh, the pain so much stronger than before and there was no way he could stop the tears.

"Nooooooooooo-." Officer Thomas cried and Greg adjusted his right hand, hoping that he was still pressing hard enough, because his fingers were too numb to tell.

The sun hadn't yet peaked over the horizon but the sky had begun to change color, thus making the shadows look weird. Greg shone his flashlight along the ground to clear them a way to tread. Nick's flashlight was directed at the house and Vartann's at the backyard, Officer Thomas just walked next to them, oblivious to the world it seemed.

When they rounded the corner of the house Greg understood why the officer was so pale, even he felt the blood drain away from his face at the trash before him. All three light sources were directed at a pile of human parts. Without effort Greg counted 5 left feet and suddenly longed for just one starved to death kid in a trashcan.

"I've got 7 hands." Nick said quietly.

"5 left feet." He wasn't sure why he was whispering, they never did that when working a scene.

"Not far now." Nick stated. "I hit that hole looking at the sign on the side of the road."

It amazed him that Nick was able to still talk and observe so easily. But then again he knew and had more than once seen just how resilient Nick Stokes could be.

"They said that they would put op the roadblock where the good road branches out into this and another back road much like this one." If he ever needed a new hero Nick was actually quite a good candidate.

"Getting woozy-." Vartann was slurring his words badly and the hands gripping the wheel had white knuckles.

"He's bleeding from a head wound." Greg remembered that he'd forgotten to tell Nick earlier when he'd discovered that the blood was flowing faster.

Nick reached out and held his hand to the back of the detective's head.

"I'm okay, don't- fuss." The way the words came out was in pure contradiction to their meaning.

The first part of the trip was easy, but once they were off the big road they understood why the call had said to use a 4WD. The road was littered with potholes and half-hearted attempts to fill them. Nick drove expertly and guided the vehicle around the worst and eased through those that couldn't be avoided. Not much talk occurred after they turned down the last road of the stretch, only a few groans and curses were uttered on impact.

A blue flash in the distance almost made the occasional gunshots bearable. Greg struggled against the ‘I'm saved' response, because letting that settle before he was in the ambulance would be certain death to the cop still wheezing for breath next to him. From far away he heard Nick coaxing Vartann through the last bit of road between them and safety. It was good Nick was there to take care of things, then all he had to do was keep Officer Thomas alive.

Officer Thomas, he mused, a man that he fought so hard to keep alive and yet he didn't know his first name. Telling himself that it was a cop-thing Greg looked at the wound that he was battling. Gunshot wounds were anything but attractive, they were a mess, not finely lined as knife wounds could be.

Lost in his musings over wounds Greg felt oddly safe, it was like being in the morgue getting a friendly lecture from Doc Robbins about the nature of wounds. There was a puncture wound made by an ice pick, a stab wound by a Bowie knife, a throat slit with a butcher's knife, a gaping hole where someone had used a far to big caliber to blow out their brains and there was a man with a gun still under his chin. Screaming, he realized that it was Nick he was seeing with the gun, and the terror of his nightmare jolted him back to reality.

"You go with Nick!" Vartann turned to look at him.

Greg blinked and saw that somebody had removed his hand from Officer Thomas' leg.

"No! No he'll die!" Panic surged through him and he reached for the man no longer on the seat next to him.

"It's okay, he's already in the ambulance. Officer Thomas is being taken to the hospital now. You need to ride with Nick!" The determined look on the detective's face made him mentally jump to attention.

"What about you?"

"There's another one coming in a few minutes. I'll be alright, now go."

Assisted by a paramedic, Greg made his way to the waiting ambulance. He was pretty sure that the paramedic was talking to him, but since he was mostly just observing his own body walking there he didn't really pay attention. After all it couldn't be that important, they were safe now and on the way to the hospital. The paramedic strapped him into a chair that sat close to the head of the gurney. Nick looked up at him and smiled.

Nick always smiled when things were good, so there was nothing to worry about. A mind numbing pain from his left hand told him otherwise and with his right hand he tried to bat the source of pain away.

"Let him work." Nick commanded.

It felt like his brain adjusted the reception and suddenly the world stood crisp, clear and painful again. He answered the paramedic's question about the level of pain that he felt and how he'd gotten so much blood on his right hand.

"Any other pain?"

"My chest don't feel so good." The hands feeling him over made him gasp and moan repeatedly.

When the hands reached his left shoulder the world swam out of focus until Nick's soothing voice called him back with his nickname. It was a weakness he had; whenever Nick called him Greggo resistance was futile.

"Your shoulder is dislocated man, and you still carried that cop." Nick gave his thigh a squeeze.

"Kinda hurts dude."

The paramedic gently wrapped a blanket around him and continued with his ministrations. Greg chose to focus on Nick and nothing else, the reality of their injuries could wait, being alive was what really mattered.

"Next time we stick with the paperwork G."

Greg bobbed his head in rhythm to Metallica's Battery only playing in his head as he put on a fresh pot of coffee to brew. He and Nick had just finished the case that they'd worked on for three shifts in a row, now all that was left was the paperwork. After hitting the magic button he bobbed out into the hallway again to find Nick. The man in question was heard before seen and Greg naughtily eavesdropped.

"Hey there Detective!" Nick called out, but Greg couldn't see the detective in question.

"Hey Stokes, you busy?" It turned out to be Vartann.

"Only with paperwork, why?" the voice peaked with interest in hope of a new case.

"Got a call about a trash run in some godforsaken place." There was a rustle of fabric and paper.

"That's like what, two hours drive?" Nick sounded slightly put off.

"That's what they said, and oh yeah, to use a proper 4 wheel drive." There was a brief pause and Greg could hear the two men starting to move.

Not wishing to be caught listening he also started to move again. As they came towards him Vartann continued. "So I need a lift and I'm guessing that Grissom won't let you out solo."

The last was said with a slightly hesitating voice that also dropped considerably in perkiness.

"Nah, he wouldn't, besides Greggo needs to learn about trash runs as well." They rounded a corner and came face to face with each other. "Speaking of the devil!" Vartann remarked.

"Well thanks, no coffee for you that's for sure." Greg teased back.

"Coffee, your coffee?" Nick had the hopeful face of a dog being promised a goodie.

"Could be, what's up?" Bargaining his coffee for information was an old trick of his.

"Trash run in the middle of nowhere, so you better make that coffee to go!" The detective shoved a piece of paper into his hand.

Quickly scanning the message scribbled down, Greg turned and headed for the break room to find a thermos and his jacket that he'd thrown over the back of a chair. Getting out of doing paperwork in the early hours suited him just fine, even if it meant more paperwork later on. But Greg just had certain hours of the day where he couldn't muster the energy to type let alone spell his way through a report.

"Hey what about some chow?" he turned to walk backwards while asking.

"We'll stop for sandwiches on the way. I already ate the one I had in the fridge." Nick stated. "I just need to restock my kit, meet you guys in the parking lot."

"Copy that." He did what he could to muster a smile and was rewarded with one of Nick's in return.

The siren changed its howl to a more desperate, urgent one and Greg figured that they were approaching heavier traffic meaning that the hospital was close. Nick gave his hand a squeeze and Greg couldn't remember when he'd taken Nick's hand, but it felt good and safe. The paramedic was busy writing down the values that he kept measuring. Technically Greg knew what they were and what they meant, but his brain just couldn't be bothered to memorize them. It just told him that they were both alive and likely to stay so.

They just stood there and gaped after the ambulance rushing Nick away, with Warrick and Catherine by his side. It was hard to grasp that they had done it. They had found Nick alive.

"I'm sorry Greggo." Nick sounded more broken than a hero had the right to.

"Don't be! It wasn't like you paid them to be there." There were times where he truly detested what came out of his mouth and this was yet another prime example.

Nick closed his eyes and sighed deeply. The ambulance came to a halt and the doors were flung open to reveal harsh daylight. Orders were barked and stats listed as they were rushed from the ambulance to the emergency ward. Greg thought he saw someone familiar amidst all the people milling about them, but he couldn't quite focus long enough to figure out whom.

"Look son, there forward, that's the forecastle." His dad pointed towards the forward deck of the three master they had come aboard.

"What's that?" He pointed towards a hole in the ship's side.

"That's where the anchor fits, you remember that the end of the rope for the anchor is called the bitter end?" His dad loved ships and loved to talk about them.

Greg nodded eagerly while trying to see everything on the huge wooden ship. There were 10 of them in the harbor and his dad had said something about them being in a race. But Greg couldn't understand how they had time to be in the harbor showing people the ships if they were racing. It wasn't until Papa Olaf explained how a race sometimes would be constructed with stages in the car on the way there that he understood.

The fiercest pain ever shot through his shoulder and Greg could do nothing to retain the cry of pain escaping him. But as suddenly as the pain had appeared it was replaced with a comfortable numbness.

"I tried to tell you Mr. Sanders that we were setting your shoulder straight." a young doctor said apologetically.

"Sorry." Greg mumbled, embarrassed with his inability to stay focused.

"It's okay, from what I understand you've been through a pretty bad trauma. Now we need to X-ray your chest and your left hand, although we might not be able to do much there until the swelling has gone down."

A nurse inserted a needle into the back of his hand and attached a drip.

Greg was showing Papa and Nana how good he'd become at riding the little red bike they had given him for Jul. He loved that they were Norwegians so that he could get his presents on the 24th, 12 hours before Jimmy from next door who had to wait until the morning. Today was his 4th birthday and everybody was coming in the afternoon, but Papa and Nana had come in the morning to help his parents prepare for the big party.

Riding down the pavement towards the yellow house with the giant white porch he heard Papa Olaf tell him how good he was. So he treaded harder on the pedals, wanting to go faster to impress Papa Olaf even more. Suddenly the bike disappeared and he landed on the pavement so hard that it didn't really hurt. It didn't start hurting until Papa Olaf swept him up in his strong arms and carried him home.

Nana cleaned his scrapes while Papa went back to get the bike. He still had to show the others that he was good at riding his bike and he couldn't do that without the bike. In Norwegian Nana told him to bite down on the damp washcloth while she scrubbed out the bits of gravel in his elbow and knee. He almost didn't cry, he was after all 4 years now and big boys don't cry.

"Greg what happened?!" Veering his head he tried to zoom in on the owner of the voice.

It slowly dawned on him that Catherine was there and that she was worried sick. Something must have happened to Lindsay he figured, because she only looked like that when her daughter was in trouble.

"Come on Greg talk to me, what happened to you guys?" Catherine took his right hand carefully avoiding the drip inserted there.

"Hey Catherine." His voice sounded funny and he looked up at the bag supplying his body with fluids to see if there was something wicked in it.

"Hi Greg, can you tell me what happened?" Catherine put on her calm voice, the one he'd heard her use when interviewing children.

"Sure can." Her hair glowed brighter than normal.

"Vartann came and got us for a trash run. I made coffee for us to take and we bought sandwiches on the way, you know those with the homemade bread that they have in the shop that also has that series of pastries from all over the world. It was a long drive and Nick drove, he never lets me drive you know. Then there was a uniform waiting and he didn't say that he hadn't cleared the scene and he just looked so freaked out that we went in all curious you know, to see what could scare a middle aged cop like that."

A nurse did something to his body, but he couldn't really figure out what.

"You know how all things looks different in the early morning, just before the sun comes up? The backyard was filled with weird shadows but there was a pile of limbs in the middle. You know human limbs, I counted 5 left feet in it before these two big guys jumped us. One of them threw the porch door at Vartann, do you know his first name?"

He stopped and looked at her waiting for an answer, but she just gave him a secretive smile and motioned for him to carry on. It wasn't fair that he didn't know the man's first name.

"The other jumped Nick and I jumped the first, ‘cause Vartann was out cold and Officer Thomas didn't do much, he was frozen almost. Nick fought with his attacker and I think that he lost his gun, ‘cause Officer Thomas got shot and I had to keep pressure on his wound all the way back. My fingers felt like they were slipping all the time."

"Mrs. Willows you have to leave while they use the X-ray machine, please." He couldn't see the owner of the voice, but Catherine squeezed his hand and left.

"So have you heard the one about the waiter that dropped the sauce down a customers lap?" Greg grunted out a no, since Carol was peeling away dead skin from his neck.

"Good, says the customer, that you are so slow otherwise I couldn't have used the sauce to chill the warm beer you brought me!" She always cracked jokes like that when peeling off the burned skin.

She was by far the best, some of the others were quiet and in so much of a hurry that it hurt beyond belief. But Carol told burn jokes and worked as if she had all the time in the world and yet she was the fastest. At first he thought it a subjective observation, but then he started timing them to keep his mind occupied. And Carol did prove to be faster.

"Oh good you're back with us again Mr. Sanders. I'm Doctor Eileen Hunter and I'm here to have a look at your hand."

"Sorry." How come he did nothing but apologize to everybody?

"That's okay, you've been given some painkillers and a hefty dose of antibiotics, it's bound to make you drowsy." She smiled a beautiful smile complete with dimples, but still nowhere near Nick's smile.

"Okay."

"So I understand you are a CSI?" He nodded.

"Then you know a lot about the anatomy of injuries right?" Again he nodded.

"Okay, you have 4 broken ribs." She held up an X-ray and with a pen pointed out the fractures in question.

"As for your hand, it's swollen badly so the X-ray doesn't show much, but it's broken for sure." She showed him another X-ray.

"I think that it's best to wait with that until the swelling comes back down again, others might be more willing to open it now and perform corrective surgery, but it's a matter of opinion." He nodded for her to continue.

"Well since you need to spend some days here anyways we might as well wait, what do you say?"

"Do you know how bad Nick is?" The question had been burning his mind ever since they were split up.

"Erhm no, it was the guy in the ambulance with you?" He could see the cogs turning and he knew that she knew more than she was letting on.

"Listen, I saw him being wheeled into surgery and honestly it didn't look good from where I was standing. But that being said I haven't heard anything about his current condition."

"I like you, you're honest!" So many Doctors had tried to sugar-coat it when his cousin struggled with leukaemia when they were kids.

"Why thank you. You'll be taken up to the ward as soon as someone finds the time." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "And then we'll talk later about what happens next okay?"

"Okay, thank you Doctor Hunter." He lifted his right hand to shake hers, but she just patted him on the shoulder.

Before the door swung shut after the Doctor, Catherine slipped into the room. The worry lines on her face were so deep that hundreds of bad things passed his mind.

"So what did she say?" Catherine dragged a chair over to his bed.

He briefed her as quickly as his drugged mind would allow.

"Nick's still in surgery and the latest is that he gets to keep both legs. Officer- Thomas is out of surgery now and will make it. You did good there Greg. Vartann, he- he's in ICU. They had to go in and ease the pressure on his brain caused by the bleeding." Catherine breathed deeply several times.

"He took a bad blow to the head when that door hit him, but he kept it together so well after he came round. We wouldn't have made it out, if not for him." Greg could feel his throat tightening, the thought of the Detective sacrificing his life for them too much to handle.

"As far as I understood the next 24 hours are going to be critical, but if he makes it that far then there's a good chance." Greg was deeply fascinated by the tears falling from Catherine's eyes.

"The roadblock stopped your- attackers. Ecklie's got a team out there working that scene and another on the way to the original call that you answered." Catherine dabbed her eyes with a tissue she produced magically in her hand.