First part - Ira Deorum

No Ma’am, not back to the hospital again…not for me anyway. Warrick? Well, different story there, but he’s a trooper, and recovered fast.

 
He had come too in the truck, concussion and all, and managed to get out, call for help and get over to me.
 
I woke up to him hovering over me, and believe me, nothing much can frighten Warrick Brown… I’ll never forget the fear I saw in his eyes, and he’s usually so cool under pressure, but we all have our breaking points I guess.
 
He was gibbering Lady Heather! Jumpy as all get out and as frightened as a long tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs! Asking if I was ok, and saying he was sorry and where the hell was the backup he called for and what happened to Gris and on and on….
 
Well, I remember the cops showing up, and an ambulance. I remember them taking Warrick away and the call for the next available CSI to get out there, 
 
I told a medic to back off, cause I was not going back to the ER for the third time in 24 hours, broken arm be damned and “why the hell haven’t you found the damn limo yet?!”
 
I wasn’t scared, I was too furious to be scared, and the great thing about anger is that it keeps fear away. I became focused, even Gil would have been impressed, and that’s saying a lot.
 
I hopped into a random patrol car and pretty much ordered the surprised officer to take me to the lab.
 
He was smart enough to just go with it and off we went.
 
I had a moment of clarity back in the earlier panic that helped me realize that my sweet deluded sister was being brought to task by Brass and probably had the answers I needed with which to find Gil.
 
It was chaos in the parking lot. Patrol cars tearing in and out. Detectives running around. The Prima Donna Sheriff giving a damned press conference outside about what was happening now, and what happened earlier and what they were doing to locate Gil and rescue “one of their own”.
 
Some of the reporters saw me and came running, so much for not being noticed.
 
Whatever, I had work to do.
 
I just walked right past them and inside. Fuckin vultures. Rating whores…
 
Yeah, I never cared for reporters. I always felt they tend to do more harm then good, especially when they didn’t even know half of the story that was just set in motion anyway!
 
Twits!
 
Inside the lab, you could feel the stress and the pandemonium. Lab techs running back and forth, cell phones ringing like crazy. It was a war zone.
 
I heard Detective Vartan as he sprinted down a hallway screaming “what do you mean you LOST the limo..?!”
 
Heads were going to roll, and it would not be pretty.
 
I heard that and I just knew…
 
I heard various people calling out to me as I stormed towards the main interrogation room.
 
“Nick?!”
 
“Stokes! What the hell…?!”
 
“Nick wait!”
 
I think Greg tried to stop me, but I just pushed him aside like he was a fly, and walked right into the interrogation room.
 
Now, I like to think I’m a pretty nice guy, but recently, I’ve found it harder and harder not go off on suspects. I admit, I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I’m pretty proud of that actually, but showing anger to a suspect is not good for a CSI.
 
We need to be detached and objective, letting a suspect see us pissed off can damage a case.
 
Sarah called me on it once, saying how I went off on Cassie’s swim coach and threw him up against the wall wouldn’t have happened before.
 
She’s right, but that was then, this is me, now.
 
Spending a day in a box thinking you’re going to die there, well that’s bound to change you.
 
So maybe I’m projecting…so what?
 
I’ve faced death a few times now, and I’m still standing. So has Gil.
 
I’ve never faced the thought of losing Gil now that I have him.
 
I won’t accept a life without him in it.
 
Ever.
 
Cassie’s swim coach was heavier than my sister.
 
Tunnel vision hit as I threw her back with as much force as I could muster with my good arm. My hand went around her throat as I held her against the back wall of the room.
 
“Where are they taking him?! Where?!” I demanded.
 
“Nick..please…I’m your sis…”
 
“No sister of mine would ever do something like this! You are less than shit!”
 
I started to squeeze…
 
“Where…is…Gil!?”
 
I was vaguely aware of Brass trying to pull me off her and I know Catherine came running in with my parents.
 
It took all of them to do it, but I finally let Beth go.
 
“You bitch!” I spat at her as they pulled me towards the door. “You worthless bitch! If they hurt one hair on his head, I will hunt all of you down, you hear me!? I will rip you all to fucking pieces!!”
 
The terror in her face was coldly satisfying.
 
Because I was being honest.
 
A half hour later I found myself pacing about in the break room trying to follow Brass’s order to “Fuckin cool it”.
 
At least he didn’t put a baby sitter on me.
 
That’s when a flurry of activity caught my attention.  I heard people running, lots of chatter and then:
 
“Gil?!”
 
“Christ Grissom…!”
 
I ran out of the break room and saw him moving fast down the hallway towards me.
 
I was speechless with relief and I sort of fell into him as he wrapped me in a bone crushing hug.
 
“I told you before Nicky,” he said tightly, “no one can take me from you.”
 
I smiled as the tears started to roll down my face.
 

But I didn’t believe him this time…


The next few days were quite interesting indeed...

 
Huh? Oh, sorry ma’am.
 
No, actually. In retrospect, that is surprising.
 
Gil Grissom is not known to show affection to anybody, let alone his younger male subordinate. Especially for as long as we held onto each other. You’d think someone would have said something…
 
Granted, Catherine would’ve probably had them drawn and quartered later, but I guess with everything going on, it makes sense in a way.
 
Us mere mortals do seek each other out in times like this. Not that Gil is a mere mortal or anything…
 
God, that man…
 
Besdies, even if we weren’t involved, I probably would have launched myself towards him anyway. I would want physical reassurance that he was ok. I’m a very tactile kind of guy.
 
Big family and all, as you know, touch can convey what the spoken word and looks can’t.
 
Though Gil is a master at expressing his opinion with a look. It can send chills…
 
There we were, in the hallway, holding each other, surrounded by people and neither of us gave a damn.
 
Is it wrong that a bastard part of me noticed and enjoyed Sara looking a little unnerved by the scene?
 
Of course, the Sheriff came over and wanted Gil to talk to the press.
 
That would be a big negative there ma’am.
 
Gil hates the press more than I do.
 
He told the Sheriff to have Ecklie do it.
 
Brass tried so hard not laugh too….
 
Well, no, Doc Robbins had a fit, but Gil wouldn’t go back to the hospital to get checked out. Neither would I.
 
I offered to share my painkillers with Gil and the Doc almost hit me with his crutch.
 
I was being serious too! Oh well.
 
The cops did find the limo.
 

Well, I guess I should be thankful that freaks that took Gil...Lady Heather, they weren’t the smartest grapes in the bunch, I must say.
 
For one thing, they didn’t think Gil would put up a fight when he came too, so they didn’t try to bind his hands or anything.
 
Oh, they had weapons, but they weren’t drawn, and no way would Gil give them time to pull them out.
 
Morons!
 
So Gil raised a ruckus, putting up such a fuss that the driver actually lost control and crashed into a couple of parked cars.
 
They also didn’t take Gil’s cell phone away from him, so he was able to call for help when he climbed out of the limo.
 
Vartan said he never saw anything like it.
 
Gil standing casually next to wrecked limo, with one of the bastards’ guns in each hand, and pointed right at them.
 
He was shaking his head, nonchalantly telling them they “really should have just stayed out of Vegas”, and “I’d rather not shoot you, but I will, so please don’t move.”
 
That’s definitely one story for the Christmas Party next year, you betcha!
 
More tea would be wonderful, thank you!
 
As I said, the next few days were very interesting. Lots happening.
 
For one thing, the idea of shifts was shot to hell. Everyone was on deck twenty-four seven it seemed. Warrick didn’t even go home when he was released, he just came to the lab.
 
Texas Rangers showed up to escort my Mom and Dad home to Texas, and Mike went along because he finally had enough evidence to go and raid the church and take everyone connected to it into custody.
 
Beth wasn’t being very talkative, but we had more than enough to throw her in a cell to await trial.
 
Robert too, so Brass had him thrown in with the male prostitutes caught trying to snag some tourist to close to the Strip.
 
I hear he was very popular with them. HAHA!
 
Evidence was processed, and catalogued, the DA was talking to everyone at the lab, and arranging a Video conference with her counterpart in Austin, and she was looking forward to the turf war over this case believe me.
 
Greg changed his hair again. Sophia said she liked the new look and he almost wet his pants.
 
I was heading past his office when I heard Gil tell Sarah to stop bugging him about the ring, it’s none of her business:
 
“It's so you! I just want to know where you got it Gris”.
 
“It was a gift”, briefly.
 
“From your Mom?”
 
“From someone I love, yes,”
 
“Wha…are you seeing someone?!” shrill!
 
“That’s really only my concern, not yours, Sarah”, I could hear the laughter in his voice, made me giddy.
 
“Who?”
 
“Go away Sarah,”
 
“Tell me!”
 
“GO!”
 
She marched out and almost ran me over.
 
Like a mad hen ma’am. What a sight! Highlight of my week!
 
“Seen Sophia Nick?”
 
“Uhh…Ballistics with Bobby I think…”.

 
“Thanks”.
 
Apparently there was a hell of a shouting match in Ballistics that day…
 
But I never saw it, because Gil ended up taking me home.
 
Well, because the past always comes back ma’am, especially when you least expect it.
 
Mike called Brass, saying they couldn’t locate the Assistant Pastor to the church, Nicole St. Cyr, and that she might actually be in Vegas hiding out in a “safe house”.
 
Well, of course Brass finds it, and brings her in.  I didn’t recognize the name.
 
But when I saw her in the interrogation room, I threw up in the hallway.
 
I’ll never forget her face.
 
God help me, never.
 
Catherine saw me lose my lunch and came running over.
 
“Nicky, what’s wrong!?”
 
“Cath…it’s …it's her!” I whispered.
 
“Who?…St.Cyr?…How do you know…?”
 
I threw up again and started to shake. I couldn’t help it. So not what I wanted to have to remember again.
 
Catherine always picks up on things fast. She took one look at the Assistant Pastor, one look at me, narrowed her eyes, walked me to Gil’s office, ordered him to take me home and stormed out.
 
Gil knows when not to question, and as we walked towards the exit I heard Catherine ask:
 

“So, Ms. St. Cyr..you ever baby sit young boys?”

 

She was a last minute baby sitter, molested me when I was nine…

 
No really, I’m actually ok.
 
Mostly. Its not like you can just “get over it”. But you can work through it, put it behind you.
 
I told Catherine during a case, she and my therapist were the only ones who knew for a long time.
 
I can’t tell my parents, it would crush them.
 
Yes, Gil knows about what happened to me.  We were talking one night about stuff. It was that case with the kidnapped boy, who really wasn’t kidnapped after all. Catherine had dropped a few hints that maybe I should talk to Gil.
 
He told me about his dad, so I told him about St. Cyr. Of course, for the life I couldn’t remember her name.
 
Didn’t want to.
 
Well, you know Gil. He tried to hide it, but I knew it really upset him.
 
He helped me forget for awhile…
 
I am not blushing this time, I know it!
 
And I helped him too! Do you know how often we have to change the sheets?!
 
Yeah, maybe we should start paying her. Both of us tend to reveal things to her about ourselves before we tell each other.
 
Hey, whatever works.
 
Catherine is so with it ya know?
 
I think Greg should talk to her. This job may be getting to him. He’s so…well, not mean…really…but...not Greg.
 
OK, sometimes he can be a real dick!
 
I know… one thing at a time Stokes!
 
Haha!
 
So Gil took me home, but no, he didn’t question me on the way. I needed the silence to work through the seeing that bitch again.
 
Talk about a slap in the face, seriously!
 
We parked and he walked me to the door.
 
Well, the sheriff tried, but Gil and I both just did not want cops following us around all day. Besides, we figured those who hadn’t been caught yet had more important things to do than try and go after Gil Grissom again.
 
Stupid us…
 
Honestly ma’am, I was going to go inside, and tell Gil to head back to work, that I’m ok, and just need to be alone for a bit.
 
But of course I grab onto him like a leech and pull him inside with me.
 
He still hadn’t said a word then.
 
He was waitin’ for me. I had to start the conversation this time and we both knew it.
 
I remember sitting on my couch. Gil in the kitchen rooting around for coffee filters to make a fresh pot. I kept them in a different spot than he did in his place.
 
No, we hadn’t lived together then. I think it was good for us to maintain separate pads. Us having our place now is more out of necessity than anything else.
 
Well that too, but I mean, we would have moved in together eventually anyway so…
 
Yup.
 
We’re both alphas here, so yeah, there were, and are, a few dust ups about stuff. But actually, I’m much more fussy about things then Gil is. I’d say; “that’s where it should go” and he’d say; “well then, that’s where we’ll put it”.
 
He has a room just for his bugs, and I have two hundred channels on each television in the house.
 
Compromise isn’t always a bad thing.
 
But settling down together wasn’t on my mind that night.
 
I think I spent a good ten minutes sitting on the couch, hot cup of coffee warming my hands, not talking, but looking right at Gil.
 
He looked at me right back too, and waited.
 
“It was her Gil…” I said softly.
 
“Who is she buddy”?
 
He calls me buddy, I call him peanut.
 
It works, go with it!
 
“St.Cyr…sitter,” I think I was whispering again too, and I looked away. I couldn’t hold his gaze right then.
 
“What?”
 
“She’s the babysitter Gil”.
 
The sound of the coffee cup crumbling in Gil’s hand got my attention. He crushed it!
 
I mean I know he has a strong grip, but damn.
 
I saw outrage in his eyes as he stood up and wordlessly headed for the door, coffee dripping off of him.
 
I don’t even think he felt it…
 
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?!”
 
“The Lab” he said flatly. His tone meant death.
 
“What?! Why…NO! I know what you’re up too, and you’re not going there now!”
 
I was starting to get pissed. Better then scared and distraught I suppose.
 
“I won’t be long”, he said coldly as he opened the door, “I just want to talk to her is all…”
 
“No! No fucking way!”
 
I ran over, pulled him back, and slammed the door shut.
 
“You’re not going back there right now you hear me!?”
 
“Nick, I...”
 
“NO! I …no ok?! Let Cath and Brass handle it! I…I just…I…can’t …”
 

Regrettably I started to cry again, and I couldn’t get out what was running through my head.
 
“Oh Buddy, its going to be ok.”
 
“Aww Christ Gil! Its just getting worse! Why do these things keep happening? Why won’t it just be over?”
 
God, I know sounded just like a little girl. So embarrassing.
 
“Its too much Gil! They tried to kill us! They tried to take you away! There are so many people involved. Why?! Why us?! Its not fair..and now that..that bitch! She’s involved in this too! Its..I..I can’t!”
 
“It’s almost over Nicky. We broke them Nick. Those who aren’t in prison already will be found. All we need is the man in charge. We got the woman who hurt you, and she’ll pay for it buddy, she will…”
 
“Just don’t go ok? Please? Just stay with me. Just for awhile. Please?”
 
He nodded.
 
He brushed his thumb over my cheek and wiped a tear away.
 
We went back over to the couch, and..well…ok.
 
We cuddled.
 
There, I said it!
 
Who am I kidding? I needed it! No shame in that. I just remember holding on for dear life, my head pressed into his chest, being comforted by Gil’s strong heartbeat.
 
One of his hands rubbing circles on my back, the other hand combing through my hair…it was nice.
 
Hell, I even began to enjoy it. I could just feel his love wrapping around me, shielding me from everything. My big protective lover, making me feel safe and loved.
 
Almost romantic really…
 
Did I just say that? Good lord!
 
Circumstances being what they were, I was grateful for that time we were sharing.
 
I have a grandfather clock in my living room.
 
Always sounds at twelve, three, six and nine.
 
It sounded then, twelve chimes.
 
Midnight.
 
Gil kissed me when the clock chimed the twelfth time, and I melted into it.
 
“Happy New Year buddy…”
 

I spent New Year’s Day at home, mostly sleeping on top of Gil.

 
Part of it was from sheer exhaustion, the other part was because I just did not want to face things yet.
 
Gil didn’t push, but I knew he was hot to head on into work and face the bitch down.
 
Not that he needed too.
 
Well, Cath broke her, so to speak, basically ripped her a new one and gave us a whole new insight into this group.
 
Catherine came flat out and exposed St.Cyr for the child molester she really is, and “statute of limitations be damned, we’ll find out if you had any other victims, and pedophiles never last long in prison so you better talk lady and maybe, just maybe, your past proclivities won’t be brought up in trial, maybe”.
 
That got her talking, believe you me ma’am.
 
She was the church’s assistant pastor, and the group’s second in command. They called themselves the “Army of Righteous Light”, and they helped her find the right path in this sinful world.
 
Can you believe that?
 
Bitch.
 
Greggo started making cracks about “Right to Lighters” and caused a stir in the lab by asking Hodges if he had any Butane lighters laying about.
 
Warrick looked at their website and got so pissed off at the propaganda it was spewing he actually had to go for a walk to cool off.
 
Ecklie and the D.A were whirling around the lab like dervishes, getting on everyone’s nerves and the Sheriff was salivating with all the press outside wanting interviews with him and stuff and he was contemplating calling in the feds as “advisors”.
 
Yeah, Happy New Year! Christ…
 
The founder, the bankroller, the man in charge, they all called him Father Zacharias.
 
That’s it.
 
No last name.
 
At all.
 
Brass was not a happy camper at that bit of news.
 
Nor that the group had only been around a few years, yet still managed to recruit a few hundred members, buy up acres of land from Texas to the Grand Canyon and build compounds and camps to fulfill their mission statement.
 
To bring the sheep back to the flock.
 
They planned to start with those who lived alternative lifestyles, and rehabilitate them. Put them on the straight and narrow and save them.
 
They wish to dismantle current law enforcement agencies, and set up local militias where the rights are few, and punishment is swift.
 
Then they would move onto academics, scientists, secularists, and even prominent politicians who could advance their agenda to the national scale.
 
Usher in a new age of fundamental rule, determining what is taught in schools, how people live, and other crap all in the name of God and decency.
 
Which, as Gil said, just means they want to take control, and rule through ignorance and fear.
 
Ambitious lot, I’ll give’ em that much.
 
And they weren’t done with us. She said Zacharias and Gil had past dealings, and though he got away, Gil had pretty much caught and ruined Zacharias.
 
Oh yeah, and that coming for us was also a personal favor to my sister, who thought I was giving the family a bad name.
 
Like she could talk.
 
That was the funny thing, she refused to describe him to us, and said very few knew what he looked like.
 
Sarah reviewed cases that Gil had worked on where the suspect either was cleared or escaped.
 
No, not Millander, he really is dead.
 
It was what she told Catherine next that really got things going.
 
Zacaharias wouldn’t stop, He wanted Gil. Not just because of the past, but because Gil was the embodiment of what the Army wanted to change.
 
Gil is bisexual (though he’s staying with me, forever, haha!), he is a defunct Catholic who hates being told how to live his life, and he is a renowned scientist.
 
And stubborn as hell too.
 
More specifically, the man is a bisexual academic, in law enforcement.
 
If they could break his will and change him, he’d be their new poster boy.
 
An example.
 
One they can use…
 
And if anyone in the way wound up dead, oh well. “Such is the cost of war”.
 
That’s what she said.
 
Sick.
 
It makes me nauseous just to think about it.
 
They wouldn’t stop and this wasn’t over at all.
 
Which is how we found ourselves with a pissed off Brass and a contingent of officers outside my door ready to take us to the lab that night.
 
It was like this for days. Gil and I had almost no time to ourselves. Always someone there with us wherever we went.
 
No field work for us either, too risky, and that was driving Gil crazy.
 
Basically, it was full a fledged manhunt for this guy, who seemed to have disappeared right off the face of the Earth.
 
No description. No paper trail. No Leads. No witnesses.
 
We had a whole lot of nothing ma’am.
 
Except a group of paranoid, frustrated CSI’s.

 
And then, as it often works out, the Army made their move.

 
Not clever, but it worked.

 
I was at the lab trying not to lose my mind looking at fibers from a recent homicide-the nephew did it-when we got the call.

 
Arson, officer down, suspect down, and possible missing person.

 
Gil had left the lab earlier, an officer escorting him of course. He just needed to run home and grab a change of clothes.

 
Very mundane really.

 
Should’ve gone with him…

 
Catherine’s face said it all. It was Gil’s address!

 
It took all I had not to panic as we high tailed it over there.

 
Gil’s townhouse was in flames.

 
The officer who escorted him was dead. Bobby identified the sniper rifle used.

 
There was another dead body, a man in a black cloak.

 
Gil got him right between the eyes.

 
Warrick found his gun in the street.

 
But Gil was gone.

 
Just gone…

 

I believe Catherine said it was five minutes ma’am.

Five friggin minutes.
 
That’s how long I stood there in the street, staring into the distance as Catherine tried to talk to me, get me to “come back” to everyone.

 
Oh, vaguely.

 
Lots going on. Sirens and cell phones, people running around. Fire hoses blasting Gil’s house.

 
Sara was yelling at Brass, like this was his fault. Warrick was snapping pictures of everything, and scouring the ground thinking he may be able to find something to help us out.

 
Poor Greg was frantic trying to find witnesses, but of course no one saw anything, they were all sleeping, it being the middle of the night and all.

 
It didn’t help that most of them didn’t even know who Gil was.

 
Us on grave don’t really get to know our neighbors, ha!

Oh you did?

 
It figures that those vultures would get there quickly. I didn’t notice.

 
How was my hair?

 
What do you mean you’re getting use to it?

 
I’ll think about that later and get insulted ma’am.

 
Hmm?

 
See? Now that’s the funny thing.

 
I’m pretty sure my brain just shut down for a bit.

 
No.

 
Not then.

 
No worry, no fear.

 
No emotion, no thought.

 
Nothing.

 
I’m not sure I even blinked, or took a breath much.

 
The voices of everyone seemed very distant too.

 
I was there, but not.

 
Catherine smacked me.

 
“OW! What the hell?! Cat…”

 
“Oh good, you’re back on planet Earth….”

 
And then, all those emotions came flooding through.

 
First I threw up.

 
Oh you saw that too? How long was that camera on me?!

 
Then I started to shake, cause that’s what I do now when I’m really upset.

 
“Aww Nicky, we’ll find him Nick, we’ll get him back”.

 
“You’re damn fucking right we will Cath!, Let’s go!”

 
Nothing at the scene was going to help us. We all knew that.

 
I could feel fear in my gut, because I had no idea where they were taking Gil, and what exactly they were going to do to try and “fix” him when they got there.

 
I didn’t know if Gil had been hurt when they snatched him.

 
We didn’t know what vehicle they were in.

 
Nor how big this “Army” was.

 
And yes, still clueless as to the whereabouts of Zacharias.

 
Ignorance is bliss my ass.

 
Knowledge is power, and we had very little.

 
But I knew that bastard didn’t hold all the cards.

 
Gil has a rep as a great poker player, but I can give him a good run for his money. He told you about our game of strip poker during that whole toy drive right? Where he dressed up as Santa and I was a helpful elf?  I got to sit in Santa’s lap and…

 
Sorry. Oh that…

 
Well, I pushed the fear away and let the anger come forward. This was good anger, gave me resolve.

 
I was gonna need it.

 
We pushed our way through the people and headed towards my truck.

 
I could hear Ecklie calling for us, but I briefly, and conveniently, went suddenly deaf.

 
I don’t recall the drive back to the lab at all.

 
We got there and Catherine looked at me and asked: “You sure you wanna do this Nicky?”

 
I swear she’s psychic, my hand to God.

 
“Oh yeah. Relax Catherine, I’m not nine anymore. She can’t hurt me.”

 
We marched down to the holding cells, had the officer open hers, and we strolled on in.

 
She was awake, like she knew someone would be coming to see her at that moment.

 
I propped myself up against the wall and looked her right in the face.

 
The face that tormented my dreams for years.

 

"Hi Nicole, remember me? Let's have us a little chat, shall we?"


Lady Heather, I use to tell myself that if the day ever came where I would see her again, I would forgive her for what she did to me. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do. Because it’s what the better person does.

Once I forgave, I could really, truly put this behind me.

 
Quiet the demon ya know?

 
Until that unlikely day, I knew I wanted to do something to help others.

 
I don’t do self-pity, life’s too short. Find your purpose and go for it.

 
I loved being a cop. I knew I was doing the right thing. I thought I could make a difference best that way, protect others, catch the bad guys.

 
My parents were proud as punch, but I knew they hated me patrolling the beat and stuff.

 
I love science, and not just ornithology either. I love the questions, the methods. The why’s and the how’s. The cool little toys. All of it.

 
So of course I was fascinated by forensics, and decided that’s what I really wanted to do. I could fulfill my nerdy passion, and still help other folks. Catch the bad guys that way.

 
Moved to Vegas for a little independence and the chance to work with the master himself.

 
Gil’s righteousness about being the “voice of the victim” and all that?

 
Preachin’ to the choir ma’am, preachin’ to the choir.

 
I just wish I had his focus. It gives me the shivers though, but in a good way.

 
Suffice it to say, when I did come across St.Cyr, forgiveness was not on my mind.

 
In fact, it was no longer an option anyway.

 
That bitch.

 
No.

 
To be honest, I wasn’t planning on bringing up what she did to me.

 

What was the point? Catherine played the card, and got what she needed at the time.

 
I thought if I remained detached, played it icily cool, dropped a few causal threats, I could get the information I needed from her.

 
Gil can play suspects like Bobby Flay playing on his grill. He’s worked them to where they want to confess. Like they have to convince us of their guilt when we already knew it.

And I know you’re familiar Brass’s patent pending make a joke, get under their skin technique. Oh so effective.

 
I just try to be me. I’m a nice guy, so I play nice. Ask the questions, present the evidence. Real casual.

 
Like a neighbor wanting to know what fertilizer you use on your garden.

 
I’ve only lost my temper a few times.

 
I’ve come close to it many a time.

 
Like when St.Cyr addressed me by name before I could get into things, said she did it to teach me a lesson I needed to learn.

 
That she had taught many boys that lesson.

 
That Gil would be rehabilitated.

 
Shown the way, no matter how long, or how much he fought.

 
Which just meant to me that they would torment and beat him in order to break his will.

 
I have a hell of a time hiding my emotions, so why not use them?

 
Besides, it was time I took control of this talk, fuck the repercussions.

 
Hmm?

 
No, I didn’t hit her.

 
Catherine did.

 
A vicious backhand, sent her reeling.

 
Pretty hot in a way.

 
“You sick bitch, where are they taking him?!”

 
She just laughed at her.

 
Said we were pawns, doomed to burn and she saw no reason to help us.

 

So what did I do?

 
I drew my gun.

 
Pointed it right at her face.

 
Out of character for me, yes, but it got her attention.

 
“What you did to me was unforgivable. It wasn’t about sex, it was about control. Power. You abused the trust of a family, hurt a little boy who didn’t know why you were doing it. I had nightmares for years.”

 
I put the gun right between her eyes.

 
“I should shoot you right now. It’s more than what you deserve.”

 
“You sinful que..”

 
“Oh please! Spare me the diatribe lady!”

 
I dug the gun in a little deeper, and she started to cry.

 
Good.

 
“Some people would say I’m gay because of what you did to me. Issues with women, trust, all that stuff. That this is your fault.”

 
I made a show of taking the safety off.

 
“Whatever. All I know is that you and your friends tried to kill me, and the people I care about. Now they have taken the man I love, and I don’t even want to think about what they’re going to try to do to him. We know about the properties you freaks have bought, and we’ll search all of them if we have to. There is no limit to how far I’ll go. We will find him. You can help us find him sooner.”

 
I got real close and spoke softly.

 
“You poor, sick, misguided fool. He’s my life, my whole fucking world. I’m getting him back, one way or another. I’ll find Gil, I owe him that and more. We’ll kill you all if we have to, your Army is nothing compared to him. Nothing.”
 
I took a step back, still pointing my gun at her.

 
Catherine was looking pretty surprised, and I could see Sophia out of the corner of my eye watching the whole scene with a great deal of interest.

 
“So talk, where are they taking him?”

 
“I want a deal, Zacharias…” she started, as a tear came running down her face.

 
“Here’s your deal lady, you talk, we find Gil, you live. If you are lying, I pull the trigger myself…and believe me, I will.”

 
“Tahoe! Lake Tahoe!” she blurted out.

 
I holstered my gun and smiled.

Next part of the story - Ira Deorum part 3