Identity

Nick Stokes had caught Karen's attention the first night of the convention. He was soft-spoken with a southern accent and gentle eyes. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that he was taken, considering that just about every other minute, he was on his cell phone talking to someone who made him blush to his roots. She'd sighed in disappointment at the realization, then gone back to work checking in guests.

He was always surrounded by others from the convention as he walked through the lobby, laughing and the center of attention as he played one-up games with his fellow conventioneers. It was always good-natured, though, and he lost as often as he won. Four nights into his stay, his last night there, Karen found Nick in the bar, morosely staring into a drink and decided to try and cheer him up. Not part of her duties, obviously, but he seemed like such a nice guy that she hated to see him so down.

Working up the nerve, she sat beside him and asked, "Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Stokes?"

He looked up in surprise, then smiled, recognizing her. "Not worth even that much, I'm afraid."

"Of course they are," she replied, echoing his smile. "You know, it's practically a hotel rule not to let such a good guest sit alone."

Nick shifted a little, uncomfortable, and informed her, "I'm ah, I'm involved."

"Oh I figured. Great guys like you are always snatched up fast. I just thought I'd try and cheer you up. Feeling homesick?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Once he knew that she knew that he was unavailable, the conversation picked up and he seemed to cheer up. Karen didn't kid herself that she was that good of a conversationalist, or that funny, but sometimes just being with other people was enough to lift a funk. When her supper hour was over, she said good-bye with regret and he promised to send her some tacky Las Vegas Casino trinket once he got home.

Karen was most of the way out of the bar when she turned back for a last look, knowing that he was leaving the next morning and she wouldn't see him again. There was a large crowd of people around the bar that hadn't been there when she'd gotten up and by the time they dispersed, to her surprise and unease, Nick was gone.

14 HOURS MISSING

"What do we have?"

Martin fell into step with the older man, answering, "Nick Stokes, CSI out here from Las Vegas for the Criminology Convention. He was supposed to check out this morning, but didn't."

"No chance he skipped checkout?"

"He never made his flight, which left a few hours ago."

"Witnesses?"

"One of the Lobby Attendants had dinner with him last night and said he was down, but definitely not suicidal. He was looking forward to getting back home, ‘more than anything.' Those are her exact words."

Jack's lips pursed as he considered the situation. "Anything else?"

"Just that she had only gotten to the end of the room when she turned back and he was gone."

"So he disappeared last night, not this morning."

"Right."

"Time?"

"Ten thirty. She remembers because it was the end of her supper hour."

"His room?"

"Everything is still there."

"Everything?"

Martin nodded. "Yeah. The door key hasn't been used since 8:23pm last night. He spent most of the night in the bar."

"And the bartender?" Jack questioned.

Snorting, Martin replied, "Thought he'd skipped out on the bill and charged it to his room. Didn't have any idea something could be wrong. He remembered the attendant and Stokes having dinner, but got a sudden rush of people and didn't see him leave."

They arrived at the elevator bay and Jack smiled briefly. "Good work. You got a room key?"

Martin took out the little plastic card and waved it. He stepped onto the elevator and held the doors for Jack before saying, "Forensics has already gone over the place with a fine-toothed comb and there are a ton of fingerprints. They're all being run through NCIC, but it's going to take a while."

"Anything else?"

"No sign of struggle, no sign of anything, really. The bags are packed and ready to go, except for one change of clothes hanging up in the bathroom," Martin explained. A little sad, he observed, "The guy really was looking forward to going home."

Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes, lowering his hand only when the doors pinged open.

"You all right? How're things?" Martin asked, voice lowering.

With a shrug, Jack explained, "Broken ankle. I read her the riot act for not wearing her safety gear on that damned skateboard, but I doubt it sank in through the pain killers."

"Ouch. Did you get any sleep?"

"Not much."

Martin's hands itched to rub some of the tension from Jack's shoulders, not liking the weary cast to the other man's face, but restrained himself. Even if they weren't in public, he'd never have touched Jack. The other man just didn't invite comforting touches, no matter how much Martin wanted to give them. "You okay?"

"I'll be fine," Jack assured him.

The door into Nick Stokes' room was open, yellow ‘crime scene' tape across it. Jack ducked under it and Martin followed. He stayed quiet while Jack looked around, knowing that the other man was getting a feel for the case and the victim.

* * * *

Jack was glad that Martin knew him well enough to just stand back and let him look things over without comment. It was a regular hotel room, nothing special, maybe a little higher-end than he'd have expected for a convention-goer. "Nice digs. Quiet floor."

"Yeah, I noticed that and asked the front desk. Stokes' boss called and arranged for an upgrade," Martin answered. "Said that Stokes didn't like to be in the middle of the madness of a convention."

Jack grinned briefly and commented, "Nice boss."

"Wonder where I can get one?"

Snorting at the teasing, Jack continued to look around. Like Martin had said, there wasn't much there. The suitcases were tucked away in the closet, the bathroom was clean, no towels on the floor. "Housekeeping come up this morning?"

"Um, yes. The floor manager said that the maid cleaned up, but didn't remove anything. She just told him that the victim's things were still in the room."

"And that's when they called us?"

"Almost. Floor Manager told the Desk Manager who talked to the Convention Coordinator about Stokes' travel arrangements," Martin clarified, looking at his notebook.

A muffled ringing surprised Jack and he glanced over at Martin, who pulled a plastic bag from his suit coat pocket. The bag, of course, held a cell phone.

"It's the vic's. Bartender said it was left at the bar," Martin explained, holding it out. "Already dusted for prints."

Jack took the plastic bag and fished out the phone, answering, "Hello?"

There was a pause, and then a man asked tightly, "Who's this?"

"Who is this?"

"I asked you first."

Gritting his teeth, Jack answered, "Special Agent Jack Malone. Now, who is this?"

Another pause before the man replied, "Gil Grissom. What's happened to Nick?"

Meeting Martin's eyes, Jack asked casually, "Why would you assume something had happened to Nick, Mr. Grissom?"

"Because you wouldn't be answering his phone otherwise," Grissom snapped. "I'm his supervisor and I was supposed to pick him up at the airport, but according to the airlines, he wasn't on the flight."

Hearing the honest worry in the man's voice, Jack relented and explained, "I'm afraid that Mr. Stokes is missing."

Dead silence.

Jack frowned and questioned, "Mr. Grissom? Hello?"

"Hey, who is this and what's happened to Nick?"

Startled at a second, deeper voice coming on the line, Jack paused and repeated, "Special Agent Jack Malone and Mr. Stokes went missing last night."

"Fuck!" the man swore.

"Who are you?"

"Warrick Brown, friend and co-worker to Nick. What happened?"

"We're trying to figure that out now, Mr. Brown," Jack answered.

"We'll be on the first flight up," Brown stated.

Jack protested with, "That's not going to help anything, Mr. Brown. Best thing you can do is..."

"Look man, he's my partner and I'm not going to sit on my thumbs while he's in trouble. Where should we meet you?"

Hearing the determination, Jack sighed and instructed, "FBI Office, downtown."

"Good. We'll be there by nightfall."

The phone disconnected and Jack shook his head, meeting Martin's eyes again. "Well. Looks like we're going to have company. Stokes' boss and a coworker. Probably think they can do our jobs better than we can."

Martin grinned. "Well, they are CSI."

"Very funny."

* * * *

Warrick hailed a cab, gritting his teeth at the rigmarole they'd gone through to get on the plane on such short notice and with their weapons. It was only because Brass had pulled some serious strings and asked for some major favors that either had happened, let alone both. Gil had been unusually quiet the entire trip, but he knew that the other man's brain was going a hundred miles a minute.

They'd both had the exact same thought when Warrick had hung up; Crane. Somehow, Crane had gotten out of prison and taken Nick to finish the job. But Brass had called the facility and been informed that Crane was still there, not released without notification for some bizarre reason.

And now they were in New York City, on their way to the FBI building to find out what the progress of the case was so far. It was less than twenty-four hours, had to be, because they'd talked to Nick before he'd gone for food at about eight-thirty. He'd been bitching about what a waste of time it had been and how he'd rather have been home in bed with the two of them all week instead.

Not that that particular comment would be revealed to the FBI.

Warrick gripped Gil's shoulder and aimed him at the taxi that screeched to a halt a couple of yards away. "Almost there, man."

Nodding, Gil got into the cab while Warrick and the cabby tossed their gear into the trunk. Getting in beside Gil, he informed the driver, "FBI Building, downtown, fast as you can."

The man nodded and stepped on the gas.

Once Warrick made sure he hadn't gotten whiplash, he leaned close to Gil and said, "He's fine, Gil. Nicky's fine. We're going to find him and get him back."

Gil's sharp eyes met his, the pain in them raw and open, and he whispered, "I can't lose him, Warrick, I just can't."

"I know, man, I know. Neither can I," Warrick agreed, just as soft. "We'll meet this Agent Malone and see what the game plan is, then figure a way to get in on the action."

Looking out the window, Gil didn't answer. Warrick sighed and briefly rubbed Gil's leg, knowing that the other man was about ready to lose it from how tightly wound he was. A lot of people took Grissom's reticence for emotionless, but that just wasn't true. Grissom felt things very deeply, so deeply that he had to keep a lockdown on his emotions or he'd be all over the place.

Warrick thought it was because the man was a genius, knowing that the saying about there being a fine line between genius and madness was there for a reason. Nick was a lot like a ballast for the older man, acting as his grounding wire, keeping Grissom rooted in the real world just by being there. Now that Nick wasn't there, Warrick was going to have to figure out how to do that. Not that Grissom didn't deal in the real world, because he did. It was just that he retreated from connecting to the real world, from feeling the pain that came from the real world.

Warrick thought bitterly.

Out of all of them, Nick was the most humane and gentle. He was always there with support and a kind word. And it almost seemed like because of that, the world liked to kick him right in the teeth...with combat boots.

The cab stopped abruptly, jolting Warrick from his thoughts. He pulled out some cash and paid the cabby, then got out and handled the luggage. Gil followed, taking the over the shoulder bags while Warrick grabbed the two cases. They were traveling heavy because Gil had insisted on bringing tools with them; another reason it had taken them forever to get through security on both ends.

Still, it was just about nightfall when they stepped inside the FBI building.

* * * *

Viv grimaced when she saw Sam coming at her with a determined expression and shook her head before the other woman even stopped in front of her. "No way."

"Viv, come on," Sam exclaimed, aggravated. "It's your turn."

"I am not playing babysitter. Forget it."

"They don't need babysitting, they're CSI."

"Not a chance. Jack assigned them to you, you're keeping them."

"Viv..."

Putting up a hand, Viv repeated, "No. Way."

Sam's eyes rolled and she opened her mouth to protest again when it closed without speaking. Surprised, Viv turned and followed her gaze. Two men, about as different as night and day, were walking towards the unit doors. One was a tall black man with short dreads and comfortable clothes. The other was a bearded white man with glasses dressed in casual business attire. They were loaded down with gear, so it didn't take a lot to figure out who they were.

Smirking, Viv offered, "Have fun."

"Gee, thanks," Sam muttered, leaving to meet the two newcomers.

"Viv."

Viv turned towards Danny's voice and answered, "Yeah?"

The young Hispanic man motioned her forward and she joined him by the file cabinets. His eyes were locked on to the pair standing and talking with Sam, so Viv prompted, "What?"

"Do you know who that is?" Danny exclaimed, sotto voce.

Shaking her head, Viv replied, "Can't say that I do."

"Gil Grissom! Viv, he's like a legend! I can't believe you never heard of him," Danny explained. "Don't know the guy with him, but Grissom could've written his own ticket with the FBI. Probably still could, if he wanted to. I know they've been offering him a job for years and he keeps turning them down. Rumor has him as doing one of his CSI's, a woman he brought in from San Francisco a couple years back."

Viv stopped, brought up short as the connection was made and her eyes widened. She looked again and really observed the other men. Gil Grissom, the white man, was about as nondescript as anyone she'd have ever met. Handsome, on second look, but nothing spectacular, no dynamic presence like she'd have imagined. Viv would never have guessed him to be the brain behind the leading forensics department in the country. "That's him?"

"That's him."

Shrugging, Viv said, "Well, I guess Sam's got her work cut out for her, keeping him in line then, doesn't she?"

* * * *

Gil looked around the conference table at the team assembled to find Nick. There was an interesting dynamic working between the team members, he could tell that right away. They didn't work seamlessly together, no team did, but there seemed to be even more friction than there should. That made Gil apprehensive on how effective a job they could do finding Nick.

Jack Malone sat almost at the head of the table, an all-seeing father figure who looked over his team from a distance. Martin Fitzgerald sat directly beside him, keeping a subtle watch on his boss that Gil sensed had very little to do with a working relationship. Samantha Spade was to be taken seriously, despite her name; an eager young woman, very sharp and quick on the ball. Danny Taylor had definite interest in his eyes, the kind that wanted to pick Gil's brain for a week. And Gil had met Vivian Johnson's type before; ambitious and married to the job, even if she had a family, and ready to do just about anything to accomplish it. Which might or might not work to their advantage.

All in all, Gil would feel better if he could just bring Catherine and Sara up to New York and do their own investigation.

"I appreciate how you feel, Mr. Grissom, Mr. Warrick, but I need to reiterate that you should let us do our jobs and things will go a lot smoother. I do want to have both of you speak with Agent Spade, tell her what you know of Mr. Stokes' habits and where he'd be most likely to go, but..."

"Agent Malone," Gil interrupted. "This will go a lot smoother, and faster, if you let Warrick and I help you. We are emotionally involved, but that has never stopped us from doing the job and solving cases. And in this particular case, we're highly motivated. I suggest that you have Agent Spade bring us to the hotel where Nick was staying or we'll simply run a parallel investigation of our own."

That went over about as well as a lead balloon, but Gil didn't care. His only concern was getting Nick back in one piece.

Jack smiled tightly and stood. "Would you come with me, Mr. Grissom? I think we should talk privately."

Gil stood as well, but prompted, "Warrick? You ready to go?"

"Mr. Grissom, wait. Can you give us a minute?" Martin asked unexpectedly when Warrick got to his feet.

Gil watched closely as Jack followed Martin into the other room, firmly closing the door behind them. He got both sides of the conversation by reading their lips through the large window that separated the conference room from the hall.

"Jack, we should take him up on his offer."

"I am not in the habit of letting friends and family..."

"But he's not just a friend. He's one of the nation's leading forensics experts. You can't tell me that won't come in handy."

"I can't just let him..."

"Sure you can. You're the boss."

Jack seemed to have nothing in answer to that, and Gil saw the other man trying not to smile at the impudent grin Martin gave his boss.

"Just tell him that all the evidence he finds comes back to our crime lab, and make it so he reports to you. You get to have a forensic guru on the payroll without actually paying for him, and he gets to help find his friend. It's win-win."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a pain in the ass?"

"Never."

"Right."

Gil dropped his eyes as Martin and Jack turned to come back into the room, shifting his gaze to Warrick. He gave the barest wink and Warrick nodded in return, understanding the go-ahead had been given. Only his team and a few close friends knew about his ability to lip read, despite the common knowledge of his mother being deaf.

It really was amazing what people chose to overlook.

* * * *

It was dark and his head ached in an all-over kind of way. Nick recognized the after-effects of a knockout drug right away, but it didn't help clear his mind at all. He tried to move, and found that he couldn't, his hands were bound above his head, and his legs were tied spread-eagle. Panic assaulted him when he realized that he couldn't see and he struggled fiercely.

"Easy Nick, easy. You're okay. I've got a blind-fold on you."

The panic didn't abate when he didn't recognize the voice. "Wh-who are you? What's going on?"

"Now that would be spoiling things, wouldn't it? Let's just say that we have a mutual friend."

Swallowing against a painfully dry throat, Nick demanded hoarsely, "What? What friend?"

"You took everything from him, Nick, you and your friends. And then you didn't even have the courtesy to leave him with himself. I'm just returning the favor."

Oh God. No. Not Crane. "Crane's in the psyche ward! He couldn't have gotten out, so who are you?"

"I think the real question should be, ‘Who are you?' Because by the time I'm done with you, you aren't going to know even your first name, never mind be able to tell friend from foe. Good-night, Nick."

Nick heard the hissing of a spray and coughed as he breathed it in, obviously the intention. As he slithered down into darkness, his last thoughts were for Gil and Warrick, his lovers, his soul mates. He'd give anything to see and hold them again, just once more, and be held in return, sandwiched between them so that nothing could hurt him.

22 Hours Missing

It was a nice hotel, just as Nick had said, and Gil trailed Warrick and Sam through the lobby towards the bar. His stomach was still in knots and his back felt more tense than it had since just before his hearing surgery. Of course at the time, he'd had Nick to work out the kinks and tension, but now...

He looked around the crowded bar, grateful that Warrick was staying right beside him. It was ripping a hole in him to have Nick missing, he didn't want to have to look more than a few feet to find his other lover. And then once they got Nicky back, there was no way in hell he'd let the young man out of his sight ever again.

Tying Nicky to the bed was starting to look like a very valid option after all.

"I'll talk to the bartender," Warrick offered.

Nodding, Gil said, "I'm going to take a look around. There probably won't be any trace evidence left, but you never know."

They parted ways and Gil began his slow, careful perusal of the bar. People milled around at tables and walking through. He watched Warrick and Sam strike up a conversation with the bartender and shook his head in wry amusement. Warrick could talk to anyone and know their life-story inside of an hour. It was a gift that Gil lacked, the black man having more tact and style than Gil ever would, at least when it came to ‘finessing' people, as he liked to say. And knowing how to use it to get the information he needed without the person realizing they were giving anything away was a skill Gil envied outright.

Looking at his watch, Gil saw it was almost twenty-four hours since Nick had disappeared. Fear rose, trying to overwhelm him again, but he shoved it down and got to work. That was the best way to help Nick.

A few minutes later, Warrick called, "Grissom, come here!"

Startled by the suppressed fury in the other man's voice, Gil immediately crossed to the bar. "What is it?"

"The bartender saw this man here around the time that Nick disappeared," Warrick answered tightly, holding up a photo.

Gil flinched when he saw it was a picture of Nigel Crane.

"Who is that?" Sam questioned.

Unable to speak, horror literally stopping the words in his throat, Gil looked at Warrick, who turned to Sam.

"Nigel Crane stalked Nick for months, killed a woman to get his attention. He watched every move Nick made, lived in his attic and recorded everything. Even stole some of his clothes from the dry cleaners and walked around in them," Warrick explained. "He's supposed to be in a psyche ward back in Vegas. We checked before we left."

"But like I said, not exactly him," the bartender corrected.

Gil's eyes locked onto the man and he demanded, "How so?"

"Well, there was a scar on his right cheek and he had different colored eyes, one blue and one brown."

Frowning, Gil noted, "Crane wouldn't make himself stand out like that."

"Unless he wanted to taunt us by letting us know that he had Nick," Warrick pointed out.

"I think we need to get back to the office and let them know about this development," Sam announced. She smiled at the bartender and put a business card on the counter. "Thank you for your help. Please call if you have any other information."

Bemused by the way she took charge of the situation, Gil nonetheless let her keep control. His mind was too overwhelmed with the knowledge that wherever Nicky was, he was in a lot more danger than they'd thought.

* * * *

"Martin, can I see you in my office?"

Words that Martin always hated to hear, because it was 50-50 that he'd done something wrong and Jack didn't want to embarrass him in front of the others. Or worse, he had done something wrong and Jack needed to reprimand him. Forcing a smile, he nodded and followed Jack into his office, keeping the nervous stomach roll under control as best he could.

Closing the door, Martin asked, "Yes, Jack?"

"We got a call from the person holding Nick Stokes," Jack informed him.

Surprise lit through him and he questioned, "What did he want? And where did the call come in?"

"It came here. To me," Jack answered shortly.

Martin blinked, taking in the information. "Directly to you?"

"Yes."

"Oh, shit."

"Exactly."

Someone at the Bureau or on the PD was working with the kidnapper. No other logical explanation. "What did he want?"

"Nothing," Jack said, heavy emotion coloring his voice. "Nothing good anyhow. He was gloating and he kept it under a minute, so there was no time for a trace. When Grissom and Brown get back, have them brought here so they can listen to the call. I already had a copy sent to the audio lab for break-down, but I doubt we'll get anything from it. Whoever this is, he's a smart bastard."

"Wonderful. So, what are you going to do about the leak?"

"Plug it."

Martin shivered a little at the grim tone. "What's the plan?"

"I'm going to have Viv work on it with me. I want you to work with Danny on hitting the pavement with Nick Stokes' picture in the area around the hotel and with the staff. Someone had to have seen something, and the people who were on last night, are back on now."

"Got it."

Just as Martin reached the door, Jack said, "Be careful."

Surprised again, Martin looked back to find Jack unusually serious. "I will."

"I mean it, Martin."

Warmed by the worry in the other man's voice, Martin nodded and quietly left the office, feeling Jack's eyes on him the whole way. If he could only believe that it was more than simple worry for a friend, he'd be almost happy about Jack feeling that way. Shaking the thought from his head, knowing there was no time to indulge in stupid fantasy, Martin headed for Danny's desk.

"What's up?" Danny asked, looking up at his approach.

"Jack wants us to hit the pavement."

"Hold that thought, guys, we have a lead."

Danny stood and asked, "What kind of lead?"

"Wait, let's go into the conference room," Martin suggested, abruptly remembering the leak. "I'll get Jack."

Sam and Danny were surprised, but recovered quickly. Sam motioned for Grissom and Brown to precede her to the conference room and, when Martin was sure they weren't chatting about whatever it was they found, he hurried to Jack's office.

Jack frowned when he caught sight of Martin and demanded, "Didn't I just send you and Danny out?"

"Yeah, but Sam showed up. Says she has a lead. Don't worry, I sent them into the conference room."

Sighing heavily, Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, "When it rains it pours. All right. I'll have the call directed in there. We might as well do it all at once. Where's Viv?"

Martin stopped short. "Ah, I don't know."

Scowling now, Jack gestured for him to leave, picking up his desk phone.

Having been on the receiving end of that particular scowl more than once, Martin high-tailed it out of the office.

* * * *

Warrick slouched in his chair, eyeing the others around the table, but really, keeping his attention on Gil. He knew the other man was about to lose it and it wasn't going to be a pretty sight. What he wanted to do was put Gil to bed and sit on him to keep him there, but he knew there was no chance of that happening any time soon.

Finally, Malone showed up and his expression almost caused Warrick to groan. Or swear really badly. He'd decide when the man was done talking.

"We got a call about Mr. Stokes."

Warrick straightened up so fast there was a twinge in his back. "Did you talk to Nicky?"

Malone didn't even blink at the nick-name, just shook his head and answered, "I'm sorry, no. And the kidnapper asked for nothing. He wanted to gloat that he had Mr. Stokes."

Warrick thought, panic surging and his heart beating fast at the news. It was Crane, somehow, it was Crane who had Nicky. Gil's hand gripped his shoulder in warning and Warrick swallowed the very vocal protest that had automatically formed.

There was a pause, as if Malone were waiting for some kind of tirade to begin, then the other man continued, "I have the tape of the conversation for you to listen to and potentially identify the suspect. There was no attempt made to conceal the voice id."

"There wouldn't be," Gil announced.

Malone frowned at him. "And you would know this how?"

"Because the man who has him, has what he wants already and doesn't think we're smart enough to catch him again."

The frown shifted into a full-blown scowl and Warrick had to admit he was grateful for Gil's imperturbable nature. He weathered the fierce gaze with a minor shrug and finished, "Nigel Crane. He is very intelligent, but has identity issues. He focused onto Nick and stalked him."

"Why weren't we informed about this man before?" Malone snapped, leaning on the table, practically looming at Gil.

Another small shrug and Gil replied, "Nigel Crane is supposed to be locked up in a state mental facility right now. We checked before we flew up. I left a message for Detective Brass, a co-worker, to check personally on Crane and call me when he had news."

Malone and Gil had a stare down and Warrick watched in open fascination. It was like two bull-dogs growling over a juicy bone. He didn't know who might have won because the conference door opened, breaking the stalemate.

Viv entered and apologized, "Sorry I'm late. And I'm sorry, but you all need to see these."

With an impatient gesture, Malone prompted, "See what?"

She spread a bunch of pictures on the conference table and Warrick's breath caught when he saw they were of Nick. Gil's hand returned to his shoulder, squeezing tight and it took all his will not to take Gil's hand in his own and hold on.

Nick eating pizza with acquaintances in front of the hotel.

Nick talking on his cell phone, face soft and loving.

Nick arguing with some store clerk, grinning about something anyhow.

Nick...naked and chained to a metal cot on a dirty mattress.

The air left Warrick in a rush. "Oh fuck."

"Warrick, come on, head between your knees."

The words were distant, but Warrick hadn't yet disobeyed an order from Gil yet, well, not one that counted anyhow. He shoved the chair back and put his head between his knees, Gil's hand rubbing firmly up and down his back.

Quietly angry, Gil demanded, "You couldn't have warned us about the last picture?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think he would take it that hard," Viv replied.

Warrick hugged his knees, not even caring what anyone thought by then. All he could see was Nicky in that picture. The bruises. The chains. The blindfold. Nick could never take anything over his eyes, reminded him of the bitch who abused him as a kid. "Oh God, Gil, I'm gonna puke!"

Instantly, Gil helped him stand and they rushed out of the conference room.

* * * *

There was utter silence after the two CSI's staggered out of the room towards the men's room. Martin held his breath as Jack glared at Viv, sure an explosion was about to take place.

"I have seen you handle killers with more regard," Jack snarled. "One more stunt like that and I'll..."

The threat hung in the air, cold and heavy with protest.

"My office, now."

Looking like she could care less, Viv left the conference room for Jack's office.

Turning to them, Jack continued, "Sam, I want you to get what you can from these pictures. Flash Crane's photo wherever they were taken. Martin, go back to the hotel like I told you. Danny...would you go check on Mr. Grissom and Mr. Brown?"

There were nods and murmurs of assent and then Jack stalked towards his office where Viv was waiting.

"Shit. What is going on with them this time?" Danny asked, dark eyes wide as they all watched.

Leaning forward, Sam said, "Viv has a problem with gay black guys."

Danny's mouth dropped. "Wait, huh? How do you know Brown's gay? How did she?"

Martin raised his hand and agreed, "I second that."

Shrugging, Sam answered, "A woman can usually just tell. Something about how a gay guy looks, or doesn't look, at her. Hard to explain."

"Still doesn't explain things. I've never seen Viv as a bigot," Martin stated.

"She's not usually."

"But this time?"

"When something hits close to home...you know. Maybe she's got a nephew or cousin or something who looks or reminds her of Warrick," Sam replied. "Whatever the case is, she knew almost right away, or at least it seemed it to me."

It was hard for Martin to believe, but he couldn't deny how callous Viv's actions had been.

"Well, I'm gonna go check on them," Danny sighed.

Martin shook his head and suggested, "Maybe you should give them some time to get themselves together."

A polite way of saying, ‘Let Brown throw up in peace.'

Danny nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, good idea. I got some things I can work on at my desk."

Standing, Sam asked Martin, "Want a lift?"

He nodded. "Yeah, sounds good."

On the way out of the office, Martin took a last look at Jack's office and winced. Viv and Jack were toe-to-toe, even if there wasn't any shouting. Yet. They were just way too alike for there not to be friction, despite the long-standing friendship. The long-standing friendship that had been tested sorely a few times in the last six months.

As the elevator doors closed, Martin couldn't help wondering what would break it down altogether.

* * * *

Jack glared at Viv and snapped, "You're pushing me, Viv."

"Look, I told you earlier that I was on this case under protest," Viv retorted.

"I don't fucking care. You will do your job, and you will do it without prejudice, or I will bust your ass to the curb."

"Don't you threaten me."

"I am your boss and that is not a threat."

Dead silence as they glared at each other.

"Fine," Viv bit out. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. If you ever do anything like that ever again, there won't be a warning."

Viv nodded, her full lips not quite sneering as she turned and left the office.

When the door closed behind her, not really slamming, but a solid shut, Jack groaned to himself and dropped into his chair. What a fucking mess. And this was exactly the kind of shit he was protecting Martin from, by keeping his feelings to himself.

A hesitant knock on his door brought his head up and Jack motioned for Danny to come inside.

"Sorry, Jack, just wanted to let you know I'm driving Grissom and Brown to their hotel. They're going to turn in for the night."

"Yeah, I figured they would after that," Jack agreed. "I'm going to head out and join Martin and Sam. Join us when you're done and we'll regroup."

Danny nodded and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Fine, thanks. Go on."

Another nod and Danny was gone.

Jack sighed deeply and closed his eyes, gathering himself together. It was going to be a long night.

* * * *

Gil had half expected to be the one needing comfort before the night was done, but that turned out not to be the case. He'd thanked Danny for the ride and the walk to their hotel room, trying to ignore the speculative gleam in the dark eyes when the younger man had noticed them sharing a room. Once inside the room, Warrick had gone straight into the bathroom and the shower had run. Gil had sighed and checked his voicemail, giving his lover the space he needed.

Sara and Cat had both called, but there'd been no word from Brass, and that worried Gil even more than before. He couldn't even attempt to guess what it might or might not mean. And then, surprisingly, there had been a hesitant voicemail from Greg asking for an update as though he was afraid of being kept in the dark. He'd smiled at that, even in the midst of all the pain and worry. Greg was a patch of sunlight for all of them; far more than the mascot that some of the unkind CSI employees had dubbed him.

Warrick finally exited the shower and promptly collapsed on the bed, still damp and naked, and tossed an arm over his face. Gil looked over at him from the table in the corner of the room and announced, "Greg called."

"Yeah? How's he doing?" Warrick asked, not moving.

Walking to the dresser, Gil pulled off his shirt and folded it, placing it on top. Next, his boxers came off and he folded those too. "Greg's worried, just like the rest of us. I think he was worried about getting cut out of the loop, too."

"Ah, man, I forgot to call him," Warrick announced.

"You're a little preoccupied," Gil pointed out, pulling off his shoes and socks and placing them neatly by the dresser. "Greg understands."

"Shouldn't have to. I shoulda called him."

Gil arched an eyebrow at Warrick, though the other man didn't see it. He stared at the long, defined body and felt a stir in his cock at the incredible man stretched out on the bed. Not enough to do anything, he was too exhausted for more than a twinge of interest, even if Warrick was in the mood, which he plainly wasn't.

So he pulled on pajama bottoms, walked to the bed and tugged on the covers, ordering, "Under the covers if you're sleeping nude."

At that, Warrick peeked out from under his arm. "You're a strange man, Grissom."

Smirking a bit, Gil returned, "And you love that."

Warrick snorted and moved enough to get under the covers. Gil crawled in underneath and it was a few minutes before they found a comfortable position with Warrick supporting Gil. It was usually Nicky on Warrick with Gil spooning behind Nicky. This was a new experience in and of itself, sleeping with Warrick and not having Nick present. It was because of Nick that they were together, brought into a triad simply because neither man could do without him.

And now...now Gil wasn't entirely sure if he could do without either man, both of them filling places inside him that he hadn't even known were empty.

"Hey, easy man," Warrick murmured, a strong hand rubbing slowly up and down Gil's back. "We'll get him back. Five hours sleep and we're back on the job, fresh as daisies."

Gil breathed deep, soothed both by the steady rumble of Warrick's voice and the familiar scent, and set his cheek on Warrick's chest. His heart ached thinking about what Nick was going through right then, his pulse accelerating.

"Don't Gil, don't."

And because he sensed that Warrick was on the edge too, Gil held it together. He rubbed his hand lightly over the chest hair and muscled torso, exhaling in a shuddery breath. "I'm fine. Get some sleep."

Warrick nodded and they both tried to sleep, leaving the lights on.

* * * *

Jim stared through the glass into the room where Nigel Crane was wrapped up tighter than a bug in a rug. Straightjacket, padded room, and all.

"I told you he was here," the doctor stated, irritated.

"Yeah, sorry doc, just needed to see for myself," Jim said, already dismissing the man from mind as he spun on his heel and strode down the hall.

What the fuck was going on and who really had Nick?

34 Hours Missing

The Board. Currently filled with what they knew of Nick Stokes' disappearance, which wasn't much, unfortunately. Martin watched Jack as the other man went over the timeline out loud trying to ignore the yawn that was threatening to get loose. He'd caught a nap in one of the rooms they kept for this kind of case, but it hadn't been nearly enough.

"Okay. 10:30 night before last, Nick Stokes finishes dinner with the hotel clerk. "Crane" is right beside him and slips him a mickey, probably rophynol or some other drug that makes Stokes passive and unsteady on his feet, like he's drunk. Grocery clerk spots them staggering out of a side door at 10:55, and since it only takes five minutes to get from the bar to that exit, it means Stokes gave "Crane" some trouble on the way out, despite the drug."

"Or Stokes could've been too heavy for him and Crane stopped to rest on the way," Sam suggested.

Jack nodded, pointing at her. "Good point. Stokes is a big man and "Crane's" not quite a lightweight, but near enough. So they get outside and stumble to the car, which promptly takes off east towards the highway and that's the last definite sighting we have. Now..."

Jack's cell phone rang, interrupting him, and he pulled it out. "Malone. What? Who said...Oh. No, I'm sorry. Look, I'm sorry, I'll come down and straighten this out. Yeah. Thanks. Okay."

Martin looked at him curiously. "What was that about?"

"Grissom's taken over the bar and closed it down and Brown's done the same to the bedroom," Jack reported, grimacing. "Martin, you're with me. Sam, let us know if that partial plate number comes back before we do."

Sam nodded and Martin hopped to his feet, falling into step beside Jack as they walked to the elevator. "Looks like Grissom pulled himself together."

"I don't have time for this," Jack snapped. He reached over and pushed the Garage level button, then turned to Martin with, "Sorry. Marie called a little while ago and said Hannah wanted me to come home last night."

Martin winced and asked, "How's she doing?"

"Her ankle hurts and she's got a serious headache from crackin' her head into the railing at the park, Marie said," Jack explained.

The doors opened and they entered the parking garage. Hesitant, Martin offered, "Bad timing."

Wry, Jack replied, "It's all bad timing, Martin, but thanks."

They got into his car and Martin watched the city go by for a minute before asking, "Why's Viv so uptight about this case?"

Jack's jaw flexed and he didn't answer at first. "Viv has a problem with this case because Grissom reminds her of someone she used to know. And that's all I can tell you."

Martin blinked in surprise as he digested the information. Grissom and not Brown? He'd have to tell Sam that she was wrong. At least about it being Brown who bothered Viv.

"And before you go tattling to the others, keep in mind that we all have issues and try to deal with them the best we can. Having her coworkers talking about her behind her back isn't going to do Viv any good, or help the situation. Give her some time, Martin, she'll come around."

Flushing a little that he'd been so transparent, Martin nodded and muttered, "Sorry."

Jack grinned at him. "Don't worry. I won't tell her."

And just like that, the energy between them surged to life, throwing Martin off a little because it was so...there. Martin knew he could just lean over and...

"What do you think Grissom hopes to find?" Jack asked abruptly.

The mood completely ruined, which was probably Jack's intention, Martin mentally screamed in frustration. If Jack did one thing really well, it was running hot and cold in the blink of an eye. Aloud, he said, "No idea. Guess we'll find out."

* * * *

The bar was blocked off by official tape, which had gathered a crowd of on-lookers. Jack and Martin pushed their way through the people and ducked under it to find Grissom kneeling on the floor by the stool that Nick had occupied. He was patiently brushing over the area with a small brush that didn't quite look like a fingerprinting brush, but similar.

"What're you doing?" Jack demanded.

Grissom didn't miss a beat in sweeping the small brush over the floor as he answered, "My job."

Irritated with the dismissive tone, Jack stated, "You're not a New York or Federal employee assigned to this case, the last I checked."

At that, Grissom looked up and replied, "No. But I am one of the foremost experts in the field. I'm sure that if I made some calls, I could easily be assigned to the case officially, and then you'd be working for me, which I'm sure neither of us wants."

Jack didn't quite twitch as he suppressed the fury that rose from that calm statement of fact, but almost. Smug bastard. Keeping control, Jack said, "I bet you could. All right, look. I'll square this with the hotel management, but you and Brown better keep me in the loop. Do not go off half-cocked on your own, you got me?"

Grissom nodded and returned to his work, dismissing them.

Gritting his teeth, Jack turned and stalked back the way they'd come. As soon as they reached the tape, he snapped to Martin, "Smug bastard."

"I heard that," Grissom called.

Jack was all set to stalk back for some words but Martin grabbed his arm and steered him out of the bar. At times, he shared Viv's aversion to the man, though not for the same reason. They headed for the manager's office, but Grissom called out, "Wait! Agent Malone!" before they got there.

"Take a breath, Jack," Martin advised softly.

Jack took a breath, ignoring the amusement the younger man radiated, and faced Grissom, who was holding out a cell phone. He was no longer calm and infuriating, he looked scared and that instantly put Jack back on track. Something had happened.

"It's Detective Jim Brass, from Las Vegas. It's about Crane. I thought you'd want to talk to him yourself."

Taking the phone, Jack said, "Detective Brass?"

"Yeah, this Malone?"

"What do you have for me?"

"Crane's here. I just saw him not five minutes ago and the psycho is in a straightjacket and locked in a padded room," Brass reported. "Whoever has Nick, it's not him."

Thoughtful, Jack said, "We've got a positive ID."

There was a long pause, then Brass replied, "Whoever gave it is lying. I know Crane, and he's here, not in New York."

"All right. Thanks. Here's Grissom."

Jack shoved the phone at Grissom and turned to Martin with, "Crane's in Las Vegas. Find the bartender. I want to talk to him personally."

Martin nodded and continued on to the manager's office.

"What are you going to do now?"

Looking over at Grissom's quiet, worried question, Jack answered simply, without irony or malice, "My job."

* * * *

Warrick rubbed tired and gritty eyes, taking a short break before he went blind from going over the room with a fine-toothed comb...almost literally.

"Hey. How're you doing?"

Surprised by Danny's arrival, Warrick looked over at the other man and offered a tired smile. "Not bad. I've got the room about half done."

"I wasn't asking about the room, I was asking about you," Danny corrected, leaning against the wall. "This has been hard on you."

The sympathy in the dark eyes was obvious and Warrick knew that Danny knew that he and Nick were lovers. Of course, his behavior in the office had made it really hard to miss. He wouldn't bet the farm on the agent knowing about their triad, but it didn't really matter. Shrugging, Warrick answered, "I went through this the first time with Crane and almost lost Nicky then. I should've killed the f*cker when I had the chance."

Shaking his head, Danny said, "Killing's never right, Warrick. It's necessary sometimes, but it's never right."

Half-smiling, Warrick observed, "You sound like Grissom."

"Good man to sound like," Danny replied, grinning. "Can I come in, or will that disturb something?"

Warrick hesitated, but said, "You better stay there."

"So how long have you known Nick?"

Yep. He definitely knew. Mentally shaking his head, Warrick said, "A few years now. I was Johnny-come-lately to the scene. We got into a competition off the bat trying to make CSI1 at the same time. There was a big mess and even though I screwed up pretty bad, Grissom gave us both the promotion."

"What's he like?"

"Who, Grissom or Nick?"

"Nick."

Warrick smiled as he thought about Nick and answered, "He's a good man. Terrible taste in music and he can't gamble worth shit. Probably because he's from Texas."

Danny laughed. "That could be."

"He's into sports, loves football, he used to play it. He'd give you the shirt off his back in the middle of a snowstorm and puts the rest of us to shame when it comes to believing in people," Warrick finished softly.

"He does sound like a good man. I can't wait to meet him," Danny said, just as quiet.

"So where are we?"

Danny accepted the change of subject and explained, "Sam just got information about a partial license plate the grocery clerk saw and we're running them down now, concentrating on rental cars that match the description and plate. Unfortunately, there were over a hundred of them. Jack is questioning the bartender back at the office."

Frowning, Warrick asked, "Why?"

"Oh. I thought...sorry, I thought someone told you. Crane's in Las Vegas, which puts the ID into question, which means that the bartender could be..."

"In on it," Warrick interrupted, getting to his feet. He crossed the room carefully and joined Danny at the door. "Let's go."

"Warrick, there's nothing you can do there," Danny protested.

Shaking his head, Warrick said, "I have to be there, Danny."

Danny hesitated, but nodded. "We'll pick up Grissom on the way out."

"Good."

It would give Warrick the opportunity to strangle his other lover for keeping him out of the loop.

* * * *

"Letting him stew?"

Jack nodded at Viv's question and continued to look through the interrogation room glass. "Go through the DMV records?"

"Yeah. Got it here for you," Viv answered, holding out a folder.

Taking the folder, Jack said, "You over it now?"

"Yeah. I'm over it."

"Good. Cause I could use some help here."

"Well, you've got it now."

"All right. Let's go ask some questions."

Viv nodded and preceded Jack out of the observation room. He breathed a sigh of relief that Viv was back on board all the way instead of fighting him tooth and nail. He didn't otherwise show any sign that her temporary defection had bothered him.

Inside the interrogation room, a distinctly nervous Robbie Wilson sat waiting for them. He straightened when Jack and Viv entered the room.

Sitting, Viv asked him, "You understand even though no charges have been brought against you, you have a right to have an attorney present during questioning, right Robbie?"

Robbie nodded and answered, "Yeah, but I haven't done anything."

"Then why are you so nervous?" Jack demanded, looming a bit over the young man.

"I just, new things make me nervous and this is definitely new," Robbie explained.

Jack eyed him a long moment, then slapped a picture of Crane on the table. "Who is this?"

"I don't know," Robbie answered after looking at it. "I mean, I saw him at the bar the night that guy went missing, but I don't know who he is. He never came ‘round before then."

"Well, it turns out that this man is in Las Vegas. So you tell me how he can be in two places at once, Robbie," Jack ordered.

Eyes widening, Robbie stammered, "It, it was him! Except for the eye thing and the scar, I swear, it was him."

"You know what I think, Robbie?" Jack asked quietly. When the other man shook his head, Jack continued, "I think that someone paid you to lie about what you saw, or make something up altogether."

Shaking his head again, Robbie denied, "No! That's the guy, I swear! I mean, he was there that night, I don't know if he did anything ‘cause I was busy, you know? We had a huge crowd and the guy was just gone when I turned back!"

"You're lying and I'm going to charge you with accessory to kidnapping, which is a minimum of ten years in prison, Robbie," Jack snarled, hitting the desk with his fist.

Robbie jumped, turning frightened eyes to Viv, but she just leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. "I didn't, I'm not! You've got to believe me!"

The door opened and Martin strolled in, taking up space against a wall. Jack wasn't sure if that was because Martin had news for him or was going to play good cop to his and Viv's bad/worse cop. Turning back to Robbie, Jack asked, "If you had nothing to do with it, then you've got nothing to worry about. But I think you got plenty to worry about and right now, I've got people going to your apartment and then they'll be talking to your neighbors and your coworkers and your family. Think about all of that and if the money you got to lie is worth the trouble you've landed in."

"Think carefully, Robbie. This is your window of opportunity," Viv stated. "Neither of us cares about you, we just want to get Nick Stokes back and punish the man who actually took him. If you're lying right now, I will personally walk you down to a holding cell filled with the scum of New York and make sure they think you molested little girls. I'm sure you can imagine what would happen to you then, can't you?"

Robbie paled so much that Jack thought he would pass out. Martin, however, hadn't chimed in or tried to rein them in, so Jack knew something was going on. The lack of expression on the younger man's face didn't bode well, given that Martin only tried not to show pained emotions.

Straightening, he said, "You've got five minutes and then we'll come back and see if your story's changed."

Jack strode out of the interrogation room, Martin and Viv right behind him.

As soon as the door closed, Martin announced grimly, "Grissom's been shot."

Shock ripped through Jack and he repeated, "Shot?"

"Yeah. Danny called from the hotel. Grissom's on his way to St. Joe's for surgery right now," Martin explained. "Danny's riding with Brown to the hospital and the PD is securing the scene."

Jack swore silently. "Viv, get Sam and check out the crime scene. Martin, come with me."

As Viv nodded and headed towards their offices, Martin looked at Jack with, "What the hell is going on here, Jack? Danny said it wasn't random, or a mugging. They found him in the alley behind the hotel and he was bleeding out from a point-blank GSW to the chest."

"God damn it," Jack muttered tiredly. He didn't move for a moment, rubbing his eyes and rapidly thinking over the entire situation. The kidnapping. The taunting phone call. A doppelganger. And now Grissom shot in the same alley where Nick had been taken out of the hotel in the first place. Point-blank. Someone who wanted to inflict as much damage as possible and could have killed him if he'd wanted.

He could see it clearly in his mind...

Gil winced as the gun was forced once more into his back and walked down the empty hall towards the door that emptied into the alley. Once outside, Gil faced his attacker, who was still in the shadows and pleaded, "Tell me you haven't hurt him, please just tell me that."

"I haven't...yet. But I'm going to. I'm going to make you suffer by hurting him, and I'm going to make him suffer so beautifully. And it's all going to start with you, Grissom. I knew you would come charging to his rescue, but Brown's a bonus. I wonder how badly this will hurt Mr. Brown, having one of you missing and the other dying?"

Gil's eyes widened a split second before the gun was aimed at his chest and fired, the large bullet plowing through skin and muscle and bone to burst out of his back and lodge into the wall. No sound escaped Gil's mouth as he blinked a couple of times in shock and fell backwards to land hard on the pavement. Blood instantly spilled onto the blacktop, seeping out from under Gil while it simultaneously soaked into his shirt.

The attacker leaned over Gil and hissed, "Suffer, Grissom. Suffer."

Jack's eyes snapped open and locked onto Martin. "This is personal. This is personal to Nick, and Grissom, and probably even Brown. I want protective custody on Brown right now and I want you to dig into Nigel Crane's history, especially his family history. All of it. Look for a twin or someone who lived with them when Crane was a kid. Bring it to me at the hospital."

Martin nodded and hurried down the hall. Jack watched him go, his eyes lingering on the tall, lanky body until it disappeared around a corner. He knew something of what Brown was going through because if anything ever happened to Martin, Jack would never forgive himself.

Glancing at the interrogation room door, Jack thought about it then turned and walked away. He was pretty sure that he'd find more answers at the hospital, than here, and letting Wilson stew even longer would only be a good thing.

39 Hours Missing

Warrick was in shock and he knew it, but it was a vague knowledge that didn't really penetrate the fog that had taken him over. His hands were sticky, covered in Gil's lifeblood from vainly trying to stop his lover from bleeding out, but he couldn't summon the will to go and get cleaned up. If he did, if he left Gil in the operating room even for that, Warrick was positive the other man would die.

"Warrick? Come on, I need you to sit down before you fall down, okay man?"

Danny's voice was faint but insistent, so Warrick allowed himself to be led to a set of chairs along the wall. The ride to the hospital had been a nightmare, barely keeping to the ambulance's wake as Danny broke every traffic law to stay with it, his own siren blaring and flashing from the dash.

"Is he okay?"

"He's in shock. His...a close friend was shot and another kidnapped a few days ago."

So maybe Danny had guessed about the triad after all.

"Do you have something I can use to help clean him up? He's not going to leave here even to go to the bathroom and wash up."

"I should have a doctor look at him."

"No, no, he's fine. I just need to clean him up."

Their voices faded as Warrick's eyes landed on the operating room door. It was too much to handle, it really was.

Nick was gone and at any moment a doctor could walk out of that room to say that Gil had died on the operating table.

Why was it suddenly getting dark? Wasn't it still morning?

"What're you talking about?" Nick demanded, grinning and blatantly shaking his ass. "It's going to be boring and filled with a bunch of know-it-alls who are way more Gil's scene than mine, but I drew the short straw."

Warrick snorted and snapped his towel at Nick, who jumped out of the way. "I mean, be careful. It's New York and they're all a bunch of weirdos up there."

Making a face, Nick pointed out, "Las Vegas isn't exactly pure as driven snow, you know."

"No, but Gris and I won't be there to keep an eye on you," Warrick countered. He snagged one of Nick's hands and pulled him close. Wrapping his arms around Nick's waist, he nuzzled the freshly showered throat and said, "Just keep your eyes open, okay?"

Groaning as Warrick continued to nibble on him, Nick answered, "Anything you want, Warrick, you know that."

"And what about me?"

They both looked over at Gil, who stood in the bedroom doorway, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. There was a glint in his eyes that Warrick knew all too-well, and the mild expression and tone of voice was a complete ruse. He knew how much Gris got off on watching them together, so his hand slid down to cup Nick's ass and squeezed hard enough to provoke another groan from Nick.

Smirking a little, Gil pushed off the doorframe and observed, "Looks like you showered too soon, Nicky."

Warrick snickered as Nick buried his face against his shoulder. They both knew that tone and Warrick was in just the mood to help out. Thing about Grissom was that the man could go for hours at a time without even a cock ring. He was like the energizer bunny. Warrick snorted at the thought and Gil's eyes shifted over to him.

"Something you wanted to say, Mr. Brown?"

In answer, Warrick turned himself and Nick so that Gil approached Nicky from the back. Nick muttered something, but it was muffled in his shoulder and Warrick couldn't make it out. And, since Nick's cock was already getting hard rubbing against his own, Warrick knew it wasn't really a complaint.

Then Gil was right there, pressing up against Nicky and sucking lightly on his shoulder while his hands ran over his side and traveled to Warrick's abs. "Mmm. Missed you two today."

Warrick leaned in over Nick's shoulder and took Gil's mouth in a lazy kiss, enjoying the tickle of the beard and the firm, commanding kiss he always got from the older man. Nick shuddered between them, his hands gripping Warrick's back as he rubbed more definitively against Warrick. He gasped and moaned, which told Warrick that Gil had penetrated Nick with a finger.

Pulling back, Gil grinned wickedly at Warrick and said, "Hold him for me, would you, Warrick?"

Grinning, Warrick nodded and took a firmer hold on Nick's ass. He pulled the cheeks apart, squeezing and fondling them. Nick sucked and bit at his chest, his teeth digging in almost painfully when Gil pushed into Nick's ass. Watching over Nick's shoulder as Gil's large cock sank into their lover sent a burst of lust and need through Warrick. He wanted both to fuck Nick and be fucked by Gil, wanting both men differently, but always wanting them both.

"Perfect, Nicky, you're so perfect," Gil murmured, kissing sweetly at his jaw.

Nick's head craned back and their lips met in a fury of raw passion as Gil pumped in and out of Nick. Warrick moaned almost jealously, occupying himself with watching the thick shaft penetrating Nicky hard enough to jostle the flesh in his hands. Then Warrick was thanking God that Nick was so great at multi-tasking, because a long, rough finger pushed into his ass, taking him by surprise.

It was a loud song of panting and grunting, mixed with moans and gasps while their bodies joined and gave and took pleasure. Hands roamed over muscled and not-so muscled flesh. Tongues licked along skin, evoking shivers, and played together in deep, devouring kisses. Warrick held on to Nick's ass through the whole thing, feeling as Gil got closer and closer to orgasm by how savage the thrusting grew. His own release came when Nick's two fingers rubbed hard and rapidly over his prostate and he howled with it, jerking against his lover's body as he sprayed seed between them.

Gil was next, biting into Nick's shoulder hard enough to bruise and leave teeth imprints, but coming without sound, deep in Nicky. That, in turn, sent Nick gasping and stuttering over the edge, clutching to Warrick for strength as he spilled between Warrick's legs.

His head dropped onto Nick's unoccupied shoulder and Warrick knew he wouldn't be able to move without keeling over for a few minutes. A warm chuckle from Gil got Warrick's attention and he asked, "What?"

"Definitely needs another shower."

Nick kissed Warrick deliberately and then slowly extricated himself from them as he said, "Just for that, I'm going to shower alone."

Warrick and Gil exchanged a look as Nick tried to stride to the bathroom, his dignity marred by the way one hand strayed to rub his ass. They both grinned and Warrick let out a warning whoop.

Nick's head whipped around and he exclaimed, "Oh shit!" before making a run for it.

* * * *

"So how is he?"

Danny looked up at Jack's approach and grimaced. "Grissom or Brown?"

"What the hell happened to Brown!?" Jack snapped.

"Nothing! I mean, he went into shock so it's not nothing, but he wasn't injured or anything," Danny explained hastily. "I've got two cops assigned to his berth in the ER."

Jack scowled. "Good. How's Grissom?"

Danny glanced at the OR doors and answered, "Not out of the woods yet. He lost way too much blood before we got there. Nurse said the doctor will be out for an update in a few minutes, so good timing."

"For once," Jack muttered.

"So what have I missed?"

"Martin is checking out Crane's family history, and Sam and Viv are at the new crime scene."

"You think there's something to Crane even though he's institutionalized?"

"Yeah, it's possible."

Which meant that Jack knew it. Something had tipped the other man off and they were finally on the right track to finding Nick. "So what now?"

"Now we wait."

* * * *

Martin glared at the computer as though that would make it move faster. Not that it wasn't moving fast, it just wasn't moving fast enough.

"What did you find?" Viv asked from behind.

Spinning his chair towards her, Martin answered, "Yeah. Here's a big surprise. Nigel Crane had a troubled childhood."

Viv snorted as she leaned against his desk. "News flash, yeah. What else?"

"There's no record of there being a twin, identical or fraternal. Crane was an only child so far as all the Crane birth records go. And no extra kids either," Martin reported, picking up a file and holding it out to her.

"Foster kids, friends who didn't go home?"

"Nothing. He went to public school, even though he scored off the charts in intelligence, so no boarding school buddies, either."

Thoughtful, Viv flipped through the file. "You know what I don't get?"

"What?" Martin questioned, rubbing his eyes.

"He's leaving us clues, right? Because he thinks we're too stupid to catch him."

"Yeah."

"Well, why? He's got Stokes, so why bother taunting us?"

Martin shrugged. "Slap to the face?"

"But whose? We don't know him from Adam, and Stokes was a nobody to us until we were assigned the case. So it's not us that he's trying to piss off," Viv pointed out.

"Maybe he just doesn't like cops."

Viv frowned, shaking her head. "There's something more, like Jack was saying. We know it's personal, but we don't know what the connection is. We're assuming that it's Crane because of the ID, but what if it isn't? What if Robbie Wilson is lying through his teeth and he's never even seen Crane?"

Not knowing what to think, Martin replied, "Then he's a good liar."

"No, he's a great liar to do that innocent act with Jack breathing down his neck like he was," Viv countered. "But that's besides the point. I'm going to check deeper into Wilson. You keep digging on Crane and see if there's some mystical connection there."

Martin nodded and watched her walk away, wondering what had caused such a 180 in her attitude to the case.

"She feels guilty."

Jumping at Sam's voice, Martin glared at her. Mostly because she'd snuck up on him, but also because people kept reading him so easy.

She smiled and said, "You should've seen her at the crime scene. She was on top of everything. I thought there were two of her at one point."

"Guilty because Grissom was shot?"

"Yes," Sam confirmed. "How is he?"

"I don't know. I'm off to the hospital now to get Jack the info on Crane. You want to come?"

* * * *

Warrick woke slower than he usually did, his brain fuzzy and his body heavy. He couldn't see much except that he was in an unfamiliar room. It took a few seconds to realize that it was a hospital room and then everything came rushing back and he bolted upright.

A strong hand gripped his shoulder and Malone ordered, "Hey, easy there."

Dizzy, Warrick held his head and demanded, "Grissom?"

"He's going to make it," Malone reported. "He's in recovery right now."

The relief that swept through him was so great that Warrick felt dizzy again and didn't fight Malone's gentle push back onto the pillows. Putting an arm over his face, Warrick asked, "Nick?"

"We're getting close."

"How close."

"Very."

Warrick peered at the stolid man looking at him so seriously. There was a lot about this man that reminded him of Gil and that made trust almost automatic. But he also knew that Gil would lie to him in a heartbeat if it saved him from getting hurt. "Tell me the truth man."

Malone didn‘t flinch as he answered, "I did."

Sighing deeply, Warrick took a few minutes to get himself under control and, as he did, Malone's hand dropped away.

"You never saw that bartender before the night he ID'd Crane, right?" Malone questioned.

Warrick nodded and confirmed, "Right."

"And Grissom didn't know him either?"

"Didn't mention it to me."

"Right, right."

Frowning, Warrick asked, "Are you looking at him now?"

Half-smiling, Malone replied, "I look at everyone, Mr. Brown. Even you, until you threw up in the bathroom after seeing that picture."

Warrick snorted. "Is that new truth telling techniques? If a suspect pukes, he's innocent?"

"Something like that," Malone agreed, flashing a real grin. "The nurse tells me that you were really dehydrated. And that you're on meds that you weren't taking properly."

Damn. Warrick sighed. "So much for medical records being confidential."

"Well, she didn't get into specifics, just that you should be taking better care of yourself."

Warrick thought, shaking his head. Aloud, he said, "Thanks, but I can take care of myself."

"Obviously not, or you wouldn't have collapsed," Malone reproved. "Look, I don't have time to baby-sit, but I need you right now. You know Grissom and Stokes best. You're the only one who's left to point to who this bastard is. So I need your promise that you're going to take your meds, whatever they are, and drink some damn water now and again. Okay?"

Warrick sighed, but nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay?"

"Okay!"

"Good. Then I can spring you from this joint. Get dressed and meet me outside."

Staring at the ceiling for a long minute, Warrick struggled to pull himself together. He had to keep it together. Had to, because Nick's life was depending on him keeping it together. He rolled slowly out of the hospital bed and looked around for his clothes.

The bittersweet dream-memory of the day before Nick had left was long gone and reality was kicking him in the head again.

Time to get back to business.

* * * *

There was water turned on somewhere that came on at regular intervals. And he was always cold, the walls made from a damp brick that crumbled whenever his fingers scrabbled at them. Other than that, Nick had no clues of where he was or how long he'd been there. It felt like forever, but he knew that wasn't right.

"Did you miss me?"

Nick flinched at the cheerful voice.

"Now that's not a very nice way to greet someone," the man continued. "And I even have a surprise for you. Two, actually. The first is news about that righteous prig you call a boss."

"Gil?" Nick exclaimed hoarsely.

"I'm awfully sad to tell you that he was shot point-blank in the chest and left to bleed out in an alley."

Nick's stomach dropped so fast he thought he was going to throw up. All he could do was shake his head in violent denial. Gil wasn't dead. He was back in Las Vegas, safe and sound, with Warrick.

"And the other surprise I have for you requires that I take off your blindfold, but don't get too excited. I have a mask on."

Nimble fingers unknotted the eye-mask and pulled it off. Nick had to blink a lot before the room came into focus. It was small, barely big enough to hold the cot he was lying on, let alone the television set-up not a foot away. His captor was indeed masked. He was also wearing baggy clothes and a hat, so Nick couldn't tell much of anything about him.

The television was turned on and Nick's breath hitched as he saw himself sleeping in his bed. It was a restless sleep and the bedspread was the one he'd had before Crane. He'd trashed everything he could after the psycho had been sent away, not wanting anything to remind him of the other man.

Crane himself came into the sight of the camera, kneeling beside Nick's bed and stroking his fingers over Nick's hair. Nausea rose when he saw himself stop struggling with whatever it was he'd been dreaming about, as though Crane's touch had soothed him.

Tugging futilely at the cuffs, Nick demanded, "Stop it! Stop it! Just, just let me go!"

"But the fun is just beginning," the man taunted. "I have hours of tapes like this and I think, being the star of them all, you should see them all. Don't you want to know just how much he was a part of you? How much you threw away for Grissom?"

"Please, don't do this," Nick pleaded, beyond dignity. He couldn't go through this again, not and stay sane. He turned away from the too-vivid image on the television, curling towards the wall as best as he could, given his arms stretched out above him, cuffed to the cot.

A hand patted his back as though giving comfort and the man said, "That's okay. You'll still be able to hear him."

Nick was crying silently even before the door opened and closed again, leaving him locked away and alone with the specter of Crane.

45 Hours Missing

Brown had been quiet for about a half hour and that seemed about twenty-eight minutes too long for him to be so. Jack looked over at him again, sitting at Martin's desk and staring into space, a furrow creasing his forehead as he obviously chewed something over in his head. Coming to a decision, Jack got to his feet and crossed over to him. "C'mon. Let's get some coffee."

Startled out of his thoughts, Brown nodded and stood. The walk to the elevators was silent, as was the trip out of the building and down the block, but it didn't phase Jack. He was pretty sure the other man just needed some space from everyone to get something off his chest.

They were standing in line when Brown said, "What if this has nothing to do with Crane?"

"Go on," Jack prompted, looking at the menu on the wall, even though he knew what he was going to get.

But the person in front of them changed their minds and it was their turn, so Jack had to wait until they'd ordered, got their drinks, and found a table in the back to hear what Brown had to say.

Staring into his coffee, Brown stated, "Nick will kill me for telling you this. Gil doesn't even know. It's just me and Cath who do."

"Cath?"

"Oh. Catherine Willows, good friend and coworker," Brown explained. Sighing heavily, he continued, "When Nick was nine, his babysitter abused him. He didn't tell anyone. Not until he told Cath and that was like twenty years later. He only told me because his fist bashed into my nose one night when he was having a nightmare."

Jack nodded, careful to keep his expression encouraging and neutral.

"Well, the woman who did it, Jenny Myers, killed herself last year. Blew her brains out, which isn't even what she deserved, because you know Nick wasn't the only victim she abused."

"She never went to prison."

Furious and disgusted, Brown confirmed, "Never even got charged. Big surprise, right?"

Jack nodded sympathetically. "So what are you thinking? What's this got to do with the kidnapping?"

Brown took a sip of his coffee, then answered, "We didn't even know that she'd killed herself until someone sent us a newspaper clipping of her obituary. No note with it, and no return address, but it was postmarked from Texas."

Thoughtful now, Jack questioned, "Family member?"

"That's what I figured, but why would they send it to Nick? It's not like abusers gloat about what they do, except maybe to other abusers. The only thing I thought at the time was that someone else had found out somehow and was trying to tell Nick he didn't have to worry anymore, that she was dead. But now..."

"Now you don't think it was that innocent," Jack finished.

Brown shook his head and agreed, "What if it was a warning? What if she isn't even dead, but made up a clipping and sent it herself? Not that hard to do, and we never checked it out. We didn't do anything, just threw it out."

"It's probably nothing, but I'll have Danny check into it."

"So long as it's not Johnson, I don't care who looks at it."

Jack winced and apologized, "Warrick, I'm sorry about Viv. She's not usually like that and..."

"No! Look, I get shit from my own people all the damn time and could give a flying fuck about it. But if it affects Nicky's safety..."

"It won't," Jack interrupted firmly. "I swear."

Brown stared at him a long moment, then finally nodded. "All right. But if it turns out different, you better believe I'm going to file charges on her in a heartbeat."

"And I'll sign the complaint with you," Jack stated.

Something seemed to ease in the other man and he nodded again and repeated, "All right."

* * * *

"Danny. Can I see you in my office?"

Martin glanced up from his computer and watched as Warrick and Jack split up, Danny taking the black man's place at Jack's side. And even though he and Danny were good friends, Martin couldn't help the spark of jealousy at how easy they were together. And how good they looked together.

Warrick to the chair beside his desk, greeting, "Hey."

"Hey," Martin replied, smiling. "You hanging in there?"

Nodding, Warrick answered, "Working on it."

"Got a call from the hospital while you were out. Gil's awake and asking for you," Martin informed him.

He wasn't surprised when Warrick was instantly on his feet. He stood and grabbed his coat as well and they headed for the elevators. He'd already told Danny, who would tell Jack where he was going.

a snide voice silently muttered in his head.

Shaking the thought from his head, Martin tried to ignore that petty part of himself. It was fueled by insecurity, he knew that. Fueled by the rift he'd created by not letting Jack know instantly about the Reyes shooting and how it had gone bad. He never should have listened to Viv, but he hadn't wanted to hurt her career because of his own loss of control.

And even though Jack had forgiven him on the surface, Martin kept worrying that he just wasn't on Jack's good side anymore. The way that Danny was, and always had been, so far as Martin knew. And it seemed to him like the other two were just getting closer and closer while he was stuck on the outside, watching from a distance that he'd created.

It had been impossible not to see how Jack had hovered protectively around Danny after their last big case. At the hospital, waiting to hear about Eric, the boy who'd tried to kill himself. The boy whose life Danny and Jack had literally saved at the last second. They'd found him swinging from a set of monkey bars and gotten him down just in time.

Martin had rushed to the hospital only to find out that he wasn't needed. That Jack and Danny were talking quietly, comforting each other over what had been a horribly devastating case for them both. Jack because his daughters were that age and Danny because, well, any case that involved a child shook him pretty bad, especially when the kid was almost killed or, God forbid, actually did die.

He'd watched for a few minutes before the shaking had become too much and he'd had to turn away. Turn away from the sight of Jack's hand gripping Danny's neck and rubbing it in comfort. Of how close their heads had been as they'd talked so quietly, the parents only a dozen steps away, but lost in their own world of worry and grief over what had happened to their son.

Coming back to himself when the elevator doors opened, Martin half-smiled at Warrick and motioned for him to go first.

* * * *

Warrick had never even seen Gil sick, so the sight of him pale and motionless in the hospital bed sent a thrill of fear through him like he'd never felt before. He could really see Gil's age for the first time since knowing the older man. The softly gray beard had seemed more of a fashion statement than an indication that this man wouldn't go on forever. That Gil Grissom was finite was a frightening thought he'd never before seriously encountered, not even when that psycho had taken Gil and made him dig his own grave.

Gil's eyes opened and locked on to him and Warrick was so relieved that his knees actually buckled a little.

"C'mere," Gil whispered.

Warrick was at the bed in three long, fast strides and then couldn't figure out how to sit or touch Gil without causing him pain.

Half-smiling, Gill patted a space beside him and ordered, "Sit."

Warrick sat.

"You okay?"

A choked laugh escaped and Warrick demanded, "You get shot, and you're asking if I'm okay?"

Gil smiled for real at that, despite the drug-haze lingering in his eyes. He took Warrick's hand and the grip was good and strong. "‘At's m'job."

Swallowing down the emotion, Warrick said, "And you're damn good at it too, Gris. Can I...shit...is it...how bad do you hurt?"

"Not so bad I don't want a kiss," Gil replied.

Warrick snorted at the smirk that on Gil's face and leaned in to brush his lips gently against Gil's. Unexpectedly, Gil's other hand came up to grip the back of his neck and keep him there, deepening the kiss. Warrick sighed into the kiss, returning it with a desperation that shocked him. The kiss slowed naturally and Warrick pulled away with another sigh, this time of contentment and relief. A grin tugged at his lips as he observed, "If you can kiss like that, you're going to be just fine."

"Wish I could do more than that," Gil muttered in disgust. "Need to be out there, with you. Not here."

A knock at the door warned them about company and Warrick wondered in brief amusement if Martin had figured things out about the three of them too, or if the other man was just naturally cautious about invading privacy. Warrick squeezed Gil's hand before releasing it and calling out, "Come on in, Martin."

Martin's head poked in and then the rest of him followed. "It's good to see you awake, Mr. Grissom."

Gil smiled and corrected, "It's Gil, please."

Warrick barely restrained a snort. The man couldn't not flirt if his life depended on it. It was both endearing and annoying as shit.

"How are you feeling?" Martin asked, smiling as he sat in the chair by the bed.

"Not bad, considering."

"Did you see who shot you? Can you tell us what happened?"

Nodding, Gil answered, "I've never seen him before in my life and it was definitely not Crane or anyone who looked like him. The bartender has to be lying."

Martin nodded and informed him, "Viv got Wilson to crack shortly after you got shot. Accessory to murder was a little more than he was willing to go down for. He was paid to say that Crane's look-alike had been in the bar that night. Did you get a good enough look at your assailant to do a sketch?"

"Absolutely," Gil replied firmly.

Warrick grinned at that and observed, "Grissom's memory is legendary. You can look it up in the dictionary under ‘Freak of Nature.'"

Snorting, Gil retorted, "Very funny, Warrick."

Martin grinned. "That's good to know. I'll have a sketch artist come in later when you've had a chance to rest."

"No. Get him now. I want to do this now," Gil ordered.

"But the doctor's..."

"Don't run me," Gil interrupted.

Nonplused, Martin nodded and stood. "I'll be back in a few minutes then."

When the door closed behind Martin, Warrick put his hand carefully on the non-bandaged area of Gil's chest and pointed out, "The doctor's are going to run you for a while now, Gris."

Abruptly showing how tired he really was, Gil nodded, ragged, and agreed, "I know. Just...not while Nicky's still in danger."

* * * *

Danny took one look at the composite picture that had been put together to represent Gil's attacker and blurted out, "Holy shit!"

Everyone looked at him and he flushed, looking over at Jack.

"Is this to do with that research?" Jack asked quietly.

Nodding, Danny said, "It's her brother."

"Who's brother?" Sam demanded.

At the same time, Viv asked, "What research?"

And Warrick had bought it, hook, line, and sinker.

Sometimes, Martin really and truly despised himself.

"When Nick Stokes was nine, his babysitter abused him sexually," Jack announced. "Jenny Myers was never charged, let alone sent to prison. She committed suicide last year and someone sent Brown and Stokes a notice of her obit, no return address or note. They didn't think anything about it at the time, but Brown brought it to my attention earlier today and I had Danny look into Myers. Danny?"

"Myers was convicted of assault and battery, DUI, and a bunch of misdemeanors over the years. He just got out six months ago, but he didn't stay in Texas, he disappeared on his PO and surfaced in Las Vegas about a month after his release."

"He'd been stalking Stokes?" Sam guessed.

Danny shrugged. "Didn't have to, since Crane did it for him. He just picked up where Crane left off, though it doesn't look nearly as invasive. There's not a lot to find about him, he was probably working under the table the whole time to support himself. Lots of muscle-work available there, from what I understand."

Jack snorted.

Grinning briefly, Danny continued, "David and Jenny were fraternal twins and it looks like her death could have pushed him over an already very unstable edge. But he finished his time and got out without any real sign that he'd lost it."

"So now we know ‘who,' and ‘why,' what we need to know is, ‘where,'" Jack stated. "Sam?"

"Right. I narrowed down the partial plate to a list of twenty-eight rentals over the five-borough area," Sam informed them, stepping up. "Now that we have a picture, we can go to the offices and find out who he rented from, maybe get an address."

Jack nodded and said, "I want you and Viv to coordinate with the uniforms to get that done. Danny, get a full psychological work-up on Myers. I want to know which way he dresses so we know that when he blinks, he's going to pull the trigger or not. Martin, I need to talk to you about something else, okay?"

Startled, Martin nodded and got to his feet as everyone got to their tasks. He followed Jack into the other man's office and closed the door. "What is it?"

"I think I've found out who the leak is, but I need your help in making sure," Jack said quietly.

Swallowing with difficulty as Jack stayed close to him, practically radiating heat, Martin licked at too-dry lips. He both loved and hated the way his body reacted to being close to Jack. He managed to nod and say normally, "Of course. What can I do?"

"How are you at delivering mail?"

Martin blinked, then frowned. "Excuse me?"

* * * *

Jack grinned to himself as Martin tugged uncomfortably at the uniform pants that he now wore. Not much of a uniform, really, just a cotton shirt and polyester pants, but Jack was pretty sure it was Martin's first acquaintance with the unforgiving fabric, what with his expensive wardrobe. That, combined with the little visor hat and a pair of too-thick glasses, had changed Martin's appearance enough to satisfy Jack.

He brought up the radio and asked, "You ready?"

Martin nodded and stepped out of a doorway down the hall, crossing the corridor and moving out of Jack's line of sight.

It was so stupid that he couldn't even believe that this hadn't happened before. The only thing he could be grateful for was that the asshole hadn't gone to the papers with what he'd overheard. Even with all the security checks and background searches, an occasional bad apple got through. And, too, you just never knew when someone was going to get greedy. And it wasn't as if the information leaked had been compromising to the case, just who was handling the case itself, nothing about what they actually knew.

At least, Jack was hoping that was all that had been leaked. They would find out shortly.

"I'm here," Martin murmured. Then, louder, "Hey. I'm here for Route 23's mail."

"That's my route," someone said in the background.

"Not anymore."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Just someone trying to do their job."

Jack had to grin at the irritated and nasal voice Martin had assumed. He sounded like he was from Queens and Jack wondered where he'd picked up that accent.

"Marie, you know that's my job."

"Sorry, honey, the routes are being switched up."

"What? Why?" that same voice demanded.

"Someone leaked information about a case," Martin said, lowering his voice. "It's pretty big shit. The guy, what's his name, tough guy on 23, he's pissed."

Tough guy?

"Yeah," Marie agreed. "Jack Malone. Anyhow, he blew a gasket, so to make nice, management said they'd shake up the routes to make sure it wasn't any of us. Surprised they didn't automatically accuse the cleaning people."

"Bunch of snobs," Martin commented. "Jerks don't even work for a living, you know?"

Jack laughed and ordered softly into the radio, "Ease up, would you?"

Marie chimed in, "Oh I don't know. They do a good job. If one of my kids went missing, God forbid, I'd want Mr. Malone looking for them."

"So wait, what about the leak? It's like, nothing big, is it?" the man asked, subdued.

"Sure it is, honey," Marie answered. "Mr. Malone will find out who it is and probably toss their ass in jail. Which is only what they deserve, especially if someone got hurt. Hey, you okay Lawrence? You look a little pale."

"Nah, no, I'm fine. Just remembered, though, I forgot my lunch in my car. I'll be right back."

"Coming at you, Jack," Martin murmured.

Jack saw the thin, white man with red hair and a very anxious expression making a beeline for the elevators. "Got him."

Striding across the lobby, Jack grabbed Lawrence by the arm and said, "Hi. I'm the tough guy on 23. You and I need to talk."

The fearful expression was all Jack needed to tell him this was definitely the leak.

50 Hours Missing

The worst of it was when he wasn't alone and the tapes were still going because then he had Crane whispering and talking, as well as the fucker who had him chained up in a basement somewhere.

"I like this one the best, Nick, and I bet so did Crane. You really should watch it," the kidnapper urged, lust in his voice.

Nick didn't have to watch it because he knew what he sounded like jerking off, and that was what he was doing on the tape. He'd given up trying to understand what the man wanted, hadn't bothered asking since the last time he got shocked with something that had way too much electricity. No explanation and no reason weren't going to kill him; it was the electric shock therapy he was worried about.

And then the tape was shut off, the video background that had been playing for so long that he didn't remember it not going.

"Did you know that you exude all the qualities of a perfect victim?"

Nick froze completely at that question, his insides going cold at the conversational tone.

"When I saw you, I knew that hiding behind that beaming smile of yours there was something tragic. I know what tragedies haunt you now, but really, that's beside the point. Your eyes make you look so sad and isolated, as though you're sitting in a tower waiting for your hero."

There was an ugly laugh before he continued with, "Don't take offense, I'm not insulting your masculinity. You just happen to bring out the evil in a person."

Nick thought frantically.

"And as we can see from the volumes of video tape, Nigel Crane saw it too. He experienced that all encompassing passion to hurt you, to break you, whether it was subconscious or otherwise. You don't even know that you're doing it, do you? The way you entice people, the way you seduce them into thinking how happy it would make them if they could just see you cry. You have a purely submissive nature, you were born to it..."

There was a long silence in which Nick barely breathed, afraid to set the psycho off and get another round of electricity.

And then, even worse...

"She knew, didn't she? Jenny Myers. Even at such a young age, Jenny knew what you were, what you were becoming. I'm almost jealous that Jenny got to you first."

Nick's breath hitched on a sob, horror and shame flooding through him even after all these years. He couldn't stop the gasped, "No!" but it didn't phase the man whose voice became rougher. It was also right beside his ear, the man so close that Nick could smell coffee on his breath.

"What did Gil Grissom tell you, Nick? After the fiasco with Crane. Did he tell you that it wasn't your fault? Did the great and all-knowing Grissom tell you that it had nothing to do with you? He lied. It has everything to do with you. I bet he sees it, he's a very perceptive man. I bet the oh-so-proper Gil Grissom fantasizes about taking you over his desk, about tying you down and scratching you bloody, about marking you up.

"Do you want that Nick? Do you want your idol to make you his bitch? I know the two of you are lovers, but being someone's bitch sometimes doesn't have anything to do with that. Don't lie to me and say no, don't lie to yourself. It's in your nature Nicky my boy."

Nick didn't even realize that he was trying to get free as the cuff cut into his wrists. All he wanted was to get away from the gloating, smug voice that was putting images in his mind that had no business belonging there. He couldn't think of Gil like that!

"Think about it, bitch, and we'll finish the conversation later. I have a visit to pay on your friend Mr. Brown."

"No!" Nick shouted, struggling violently. "No! You leave Warrick alone, you motherfucker!"

Another ugly laugh filled the air, but the door open and closed without any more words.

Collapsing, his scant energy expended in the outburst, Nick found that he couldn't breathe as he thought about what might happen to Warrick. No one knew this man. No one knew what he looked like. Warrick was walking around, unprotected, looking for him! He moaned with fear, pulling weakly at the cuffs again, sobbing with pain and impotent fury.

There was no escape; not from this cot, or from his thoughts.

* * * *

Everything led down to this moment, and it was different and yet the same every single time.

Jack motioned for Danny and Martin to stay behind him, stepping forward with the uniforms at his side. He wasn't willing to risk either man, though they'd slap him silly if they knew what he was doing. This was the end game and with a wild card like Myers, anything really could happen.

Sam and Viv had found the rental agency used by Myers and gotten an address that used to be a Laundromat. Jack had practically beaten a confession and a cell phone number from Lawrence Callen. They'd triangulated the signal and confirmed that it was being used from ‘Dina's Laundrette,' out of business and unused for the last six months.

And now they had the place surrounded, but couldn't storm it in case Myers was there with Nick Stokes. He was about to give the order to go in when Myers himself squirmed out of the chained up front door. A fierce pleasure ran through him and Jack hissed, "Yes, you son of a bitch. Come on out a little further."

Myers was about twenty feet from the front door when Jack gave the order to take him down. Ten police officers grabbed Myers and shoved him on the ground.

"Sam, Viv, make sure someone reads that bastard his rights," Jack ordered, already striding to the front door. "Martin, Danny, let's go."

Everyone knew that he was dividing them up to make Nick Stokes more comfortable about who found him and no one protested. Jack kept the lead, his gun out in case there were any partners waiting for them, though all evidence suggested that there wouldn't be. Danny and Martin were right behind him, a familiar and comforting presence that he almost took for granted.

Inside was dark except for a few flashlights leading to a door at the back of the hall.

"Nice of him to light the way," Danny muttered.

Jack didn't bother to answer, just strode down the corridor to the door. He nudged it open and peered carefully inside. All he saw was a set of stairs leading down and another door at the bottom. Climbing down them as quietly as he could, Jack stopped at the foot of the stairs and put his hand on the knob. As he opened it, there was the faintest of scratching noises so he stopped completely, freezing in place.

"Jack? What's wrong?" Martin whispered.

Aloud he said, "Martin, I really need for you to get the bomb squad right now."

"Oh fuck!"

* * * *

An interminable amount of time later, Captain Miller of the 21^st Precinct's bomb squad announced, "It's not a trip wire to a bomb."

Jack relaxed.

"It's hooked up to something on the other side."

Jack froze up again.

"Well?" Martin demanded. "Can he let go?"

Miller shrugged. "Yeah, sure, whatever's going to happen, we aren't going to blow up."

"That's not very reassuring, Captain," Jack snapped.

"Sorry. Look, it's just a plain wire. There's nothing conductive about it. It could pull a trigger to a bomb, but generally, bombers are going to just have you start the bomb when you open the door. Simple and direct. No muss, no fuss. You jerk around with a bomb, it blows your hands off."

Jack mused. That thought in mind, Jack nodded and ordered, "Cut the wire."

Miller nodded and slid a thin, long pair of scissors through the crack of space. There was a snip and then Jack swung the door open the rest of the way. It was barely lit inside, just the illumination from a television to show the narrow, dirty cot that was occupied by a still-naked Nick Stokes. He was turned to the wall with his arms chained above his head.

Stepping inside, Jack said, "Mr. Stokes, I'm Jack Malone with the FBI and you're safe now."

Nick turned towards them, eyes wide in disbelief. There were tear tracks on his dirty face and a quick look down his body showed dark bruises around the rib area that spoke of torture. Another quick look, this time around the room, revealed the source: a car battery with jumper cables. Jaw flexing, he tried to stay reassuring as he approached the cot, his hands up and open as he continued, "We're going to get you to a hospital so you can get checked out."

"No, you have to get to Warrick Brown, he's in danger," Nick exclaimed hoarsely, as if his voice had been screamed raw.

Jack thought grimly. "He's okay. We've got Myers, Mr. Stokes, he's in custody and isn't going to hurt anyone else."

Shock ripped across Nick's face. "Myers? His name is Myers?"

Gentle now, Jack crouched by the cot and confirmed, "Jenny Myers' fraternal twin."

A uniformed cop showed up and held out a key to Jack, who took it and carefully undid the bloody cuffs. Nick moaned in pain as the metal was pulled from the drying scabs and blood started flowing again. EMT's were next in the room and Jack stepped aside for them.

"Wait..."

Nick's haunted whisper stopped Jack and he asked, "What is it?"

"G-gil Grissom...is...is he..."

"He's fine," Jack stated firmly. "Mr. Brown and one of my team got to him in time. He's in the hospital, but going to make a full recovery."

That seemed to be the only thing that Nick had been waiting to hear. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed back onto the cot.

"Take good care of him guys," Jack ordered quietly.

The EMT's both nodded as they started working on Nick.

* * * *

Warrick ran down the hall into the ER, using his height to full advantage as he searched for Jack and Martin. If he found them, he'd find Nick. Spotting them in a corner, Warrick dodged around doctors and nurses, skidding to a halt beside them at a curtained-off hospital bed. Lying unconscious in the bed, his wrists, head, and chest bandaged, looking very worse for wear, was Nick. Horror, fury, relief and love all mixed together and he breathed, "Oh my God."

Then Nick proved he wasn't unconscious by opening his eyes.

Warrick didn't bother trying to stifle his emotions, he just closed the distance and carefully pulled Nick into his arms. Nick's arms went around him with surprising strength, so Warrick returned the hug by holding tight. Pressing his face to Nick's unwashed throat, he cried as he hadn't for a very long time.

* * * *

Walking beside Jack, Martin asked, "You going home now?"

Jack rubbed his eyes and nodded as he yawned. "Yeah. I think my kids forget what I look like."

With a grin, Martin pointed out, "It's only been two days."

"Shit. Has it only been two days?"

"Less, technically, if you count when we were called in for the case."

"I hate technicalities."

"Yeah, I know."

They grinned at each other and Jack said, "Changed my mind. The girls are in bed now anyhow. You want to get some coffee?"

"Definitely."

Epilogue

"I'm fine, damn it."

Nick's eyes rolled as they met Warrick's and he held up two fingers. Warrick held up a fist.

"Don't you start, either of you. I refuse to let you play Rock, Paper, Scissors over who gets to stay with my tonight," Gil grumped.

Kissing the top of Gil's head, Nick said, "We do it because we love you."

"Mmm. And you enjoy my entomology lectures that much, do you?" Gil prompted.

Nick chuckled and sat on the couch beside their irritated lover. "No, we don't. But we love and enjoy you."

A reluctant smile surfaced on Gil's face and he replied, "Good answer."

"We need a bigger couch," Warrick complained, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

Nick looked around and observed, "We need a bigger house."

Gil sighed deeply and scooted down on the sofa so that his head rested on Nick's lap. Nick obliged the mute begging and ran his fingers through the soft hair. Warrick maneuvered himself behind Nick, one leg hanging off the side, and carefully pulled him backward. Nick offered his own sigh of contentment as his head rested against Warrick's shoulder and his eyes closed.

"You know, I think if we combined resources, we could probably get a real house," Gil suggested thoughtfully.

Nick's hand stilled in Gil's hair and he looked down at the older man in surprise. Of the three of them, Gil had been the one against any public showing and any real commitment, even though all of them knew they'd be together the rest of their lives. "Are you sure?"

Opening his eyes, Gil captured Nick's hand and brought it to his lips, saying, "One thing this mess has shown me is that nothing is permanent or secure, no matter what you do, and pretending that you lead a normal life isn't going to get you anything except alone. And I don't want to be alone, Nicky."

Warrick's arms tightened around Nick and warm lips kissed his the back of his neck. Smiling, Nick leaned forward and kissed Gil, gentle but deep. When he pulled back, he whispered, "You're never going to be alone again, Gil. Doesn't matter if we split time between our three places, or buy a house in the ‘burbs. You couldn't drive us away with a stick now."

"What he said," Warrick agreed, his hand joining Nick's on Gil's head. "We love you, Gil, and we're not going anywhere. Right now, your only job is to get well. Then we'll make a decision, if you still think you want it."

"Thanks."

Nick smiled and leaned back in Warrick's arms again. It was good to be home.

* * * *

"You're not going to believe this."

Martin looked up in surprise at the aggravation and disbelief in Jack's voice. Jack definitely looked unhappy as he stopped in front of Martin's desk. "What? What's wrong?"

"We have to go to Las Vegas," Jack informed him.

Startled, Martin asked, "Why?"

"Because that's where Hodges skipped off to."

Martin frowned. Their new case involved a missing Mafioso who, despite how they felt about him personally, was still missing and that was their job. He pointed out, "Can't we just have the locals pick him up?"

"Timing," Jack sighed. "Blue flu going on down there and most of the local Feds are off at a training thing. It's just faster if we fly out there and take care of business ourselves."

A flash of humor lit through Martin and he grinned. "Well, at least we already know people there."

Jack scowled. "Not funny, Martin. Get your coat and go home and pack. Our flight's in three hours."

Chuckling to himself, Martin grabbed his coat.