Title: Painful Metamorphosis
By: duffshel
Pairing: Nick/Warrick
Rated: NC-17
Timeline: Season 6, post "Poppin' Tags"
Warning: Please read at your own risk. Take in the rating, the category, the title in which this story is placed under. Some may not wish to continue. Full author note at the end.
Disclaimer: This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.
Summary: When it all can go so completely wrong. One-shot set post-P.T.'s

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The warehouse was quiet. Nick almost wanted to go into a complete cliché and comment on how it was too quiet. Every hair on his arms rippled along with the tension of his muscles, strained from holding the gun high in front of his body. Strands of his long, brown hair swept into his eyes with every step he took, but he didn't dare move to brush it away.

His breathing was heavy, but he kept it as quiet as he possibly could. Brass would have his head on a golden platter if he gave away their position too soon. Hell, he wasn't even supposed to be in the damn building. But if there was one thing Nick was good at, it was getting involved in almost everything he wanted. It hadn't taken much. The new and improved Nicky could do anything he set his mind to.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him. Warrick stayed close to his partner, but Nick could see his gun was not as tight, ready to shoot. It worried the Texan that he might be a little trigger happy. He still could remember jumping out the damn truck, gun ready to go at that kid. All the kid did was get out of his car and talk a lot of shit. But Nick had to get right in the mix of things.

And here they were. Walking into a dark warehouse. Bad guys were waiting somewhere for them. Everyone knew it. But they kept walking. A small army set for anything that could happen.

Nick turned his head so he could look down the hallway they passed, his body walked sideways a little so he could look left. The end of the hallway was swallowed by the beast of darkness, its belly hiding what lay in hiding. The breath of the beast rushed up and blew at the men walking past. Nick shivered a little from the breeze, wondering only for a moment where it could be coming from. But he had to keep moving.

Everything they did seemed too loud, too noticeable. There wasn't anything secret or creative about what they were doing. They had walked right in the front door and were following the main circulation system of the building. If they kept it up, they would soon walk straight into the heart and be able to follow it. Atriums, ventricles, veins, and vessels. It was all here. And it they kept up with their pace, they would beat with enough strength to break through, return out the other side.

The bad guys had to know what the plan was. From the SWAT evidence they had been presented, they were a clog in the main rooms. Each was a trained savage, drug dealers. They had weapons and were damn well knowledgeable on how to use the damn things.

Risking removing a hand from his gun, Nick reached his right hand down and swiped it quickly on his jeans. The sweat quickly formed again, but he didn't think much more on it. His grip was still firmer on the weapon and that was all that mattered to him at the moment.

A lump had formed in his throat, moving and bobbing with his Adam's apple. There was nothing to do to make it go away. All the saliva he had was sitting, waiting for him in the parking lot. But he was going to prove he could do this. He was going to show his new strength he was pushing on his team.

Glancing at Warrick didn't do anything to calm his nerves. His partner looked as tense and worried as he did. A shake of the dark head didn't put down any fears of the SWAT team making it to them from the other side of the building. There hadn't been any gun shots or explosions yet. It was something.

Detective Brass dropped back a little until he walked between the two CSI's, "Stay in the back. Let us go first. It's our job to clear the room. You wait until I say it's okay to enter. Got it?"

"Yeah," Warrick said softly.

The harsh gaze of the hard cop turned full blast at Nick. Even in the crappy lighting situation, he could see the demand, the plea the older man was sending out to him. Everyone knew what Nick had done that other day with that damn kid. It was now known that Nicky Stokes couldn't stay and wait for any back up. And now, Brass needed reassurance that he wasn't about to go half-cocked into this situation as well.

He nodded quickly, tightly, "Got it."

The detective looked at him, studied him for a second longer. It almost made Nick want to twitch. But the heat of the glare was taken from him. He watched Brass move forward, towards the front of the line once again. Worry and concern filled him for the cop, his friend.

He knew what it was like to be a cop. To jump into the scene first, secure things so it was safe for other people to come in. Granted, he had it pretty easy back home in the Dallas P.D. After all, with his father around, no one was willing to put the poor little Texan into any real danger. Nope, mostly desk duty. First gun in his face was here, in Vegas. No longer a cop.

Nick almost wanted to chuckle at these thoughts. If he would have stayed a cop in Dallas, he would probably never seen into the barrel of a gun or the inside of a glass coffin. He could have retired without fearing for his own safety. Now, he was in a job that was supposed to be safer, later into the crime scene when all the bullies were gone.

A shaky breath escaped past the lump, through clenched teeth, and out his tight lips. They were almost to the center. Different noises filled his ears. Nick tried to keep telling himself that they were all normal, nothing out of the ordinary for such a large structure. It would been machinery, furnaces, lighting structures. No one was behind any of it.

Whispered commands to stop were given and the group halted in front of a door. A plain, wooden door with a boring bronze knob from the look of it. Nick wasn't impressed at the slightest with the new development. But he did perk up at the shuffling that filtered from the crack underneath it.

The leader of their little band quickly turned off his lights. The members of the SWAT team they had acquired moved to place their night vision goggles over their eyes. Nick could see the little green lights move with the motion. His own personal night vision wasn't terrible, but he could only make out giant shapes, no details.

Warrick shifted closer to him, close enough that Nick could feel the warm, moist breath on the back of his neck. The hairs there jumped even higher, "Stay close to me, bro."

It was deep and oh so familiar. But it still made Nick jump a little at the sudden voice. He could only nod, words dying before his voice box could even form them. The lanky hand fell on his shoulder, gripping it tightly for what seemed like a full minute.

Nick knew well of how Warrick felt about that other damn day as well. He had gotten an ear full about how he had been an idiot, a dumb fuck. Should have stayed in the car and waited for help. Played it cool like Warrick had. The two hadn't talked for almost two hours after the confrontation in the observation room. Warrick had been pissed about the offer to talk with Ecklie. And the Texan had a feeling that was the biggest part of the anger, the resentment.

Mumbles went through the group. Last minute instructions and details were being put into place. Guns were being checked. Everyone knew what they were walking into. This was the only way to get these bad guys. They had gotten away too many other times.

And Nick was determined to be there for it.

Before he could even pick it out, the door was slung open. Nick stood frozen in place as the men in front of him rushed forward. It was all quiet for a few moments, a few beats of his own heart. Then all chaos and hell broke up from the floor, pouring into the open space so close, yet so far away.

There were shouts, orders barked out. Many voices demanded for weapons to be dropped, hands put into the air. All were strong and authoritative. Nick relaxed a little, feet loosening from the floor. He moved two steps closer, back towards the wall. Warrick did the same on the other side.

Suddenly, the bullets began to filter through the steel, into the air of the warehouse. Now the voices contained panic, fear, and pain. Nick's eyes were wide he starred through the open door. There was more lighting in that other room. It showed the carnage with more clarity that Nick wished for.

Several men dressed in black stood in the middle of the room, around a large rectangular table. In their hands, large semi-automatic guns. Nick was too far away to figure out what kind, but from the sounds they were producing, they were the killing kind for sure. And their movements proved they meant business.

But to add to the mixture, there were several more people scattered here and there. And from the looks of two of the cops, there were some above their heads. Shouts filled the room, instructions to turn and run. No one was able to go far.

Nick watched one, then two men fall. A third fell with a blood filled scream out of the tunnel vision Nick had of the room. But the man's leg was still there, just nothing remained attached to it. His breath caught in his throat, choking him as he tried to make out Brass in the mess. The large detective wasn't where he could see him.

"Warrick?" The word left him without thought, weaker than a newborn kitten. But it drew the attention of the shocked man at his side.

"Don't do anything Nick. We should go."

It made the most sense. They should turn and make it out of there. Back up was needed. Neither CSI had a radio to the outside world, left their cell phones in their truck. They hadn't wanted to be the ones to give away their position at any cost. Now, they would have kicked their own asses if they could have gone back into time and changed it.

Nick was torn from these thoughts at a new sound, one that filled his heart with hope. One the other side, the other wall, there was a banging noise. It sounded like something was slamming into a metal barrier. Risking it, Nick took a step so he could lean forward more, see more of the room

Across the way, at the other, stronger doorway, there was the noise. Lights danced underneath it. The bad guys turned towards it, not looking happy with the new development. Nick knew it was the other team. They just needed to get into the room.

Several more blasts of bullets were put into the room, into the flesh of cops. From his new angle, Nick watched Brass fall to his knees. The detective looked confused, befuddled at this new situation. His eyes dropped down from the men in front of him to look down at his chest. Nick could see something brown quickly growing across the man's shirt, under the neat suit jacket.

Another rush of bullets. Brass' mouth opened, but Nick couldn't hear what he said or screamed for that matter. The sound of gun shots was too powerful. He could only watch the man fall forward. Another cop along side him. Blood from the other man sprayed into the air from his attack.

Warrick gasped and made Nick jump. The shorter CSI turned horror filled eyes on his partner, met steady with the green ones starring back at him. Each cringed at the new barrage of noise, bangs from inside the room to their side. But it all quickly ended.

His entire body clenched in anticipation. Nick turned to look back into the room. Only bad guys left standing, weapons resting on their hips as they moved around. They were checking the dead. One of the taller men walked to where they had seen Brass fall. The detective's body shifted under the foot the swiftly kicked him in the side. No movement, no noise. It didn't stop the bad guy from putting another bullet into the cop. And what looked to be his head at that.

Nick couldn't stop the cry of distress, pain at this.

Several men looked up at the noise, seeing the open door, the two CSI's. Knowing the SWAT was working to get in through the other entrance, the bad guys were going to get out any way they could find.

"Nick, run!" Warrick grabbed his arm and began pulling his down the hallway. He fought to get his feet underneath him, running at the pace his longer legged friend had set for them. Breathing hard through his mouth, Nick spared a look over his shoulder.

They were coming. Three that he could see. But they were coming and quickly. Stuff was being shouted at them, but Nick wasn't about to worry about what was being said by them. He only wanted to keep up with Warrick.

Closed doors, open doors whipped past them as they ran. Nick put his history of baseball and football to use and forced himself to recharge on the go. Things looked different without the light they had when they entered, but he knew they didn't have that hard of an exit. Only one turn had been made on the way in. No way they could miss it.

But Nick didn't think it was coming up all that quickly. He almost stopped in place when Warrick suddenly disappeared from in front of him. He slowed, skidded a little as his mind tried to reason what he had just witnessed. A hand reached out from his side and pulled his in the new direction. Bullets ricocheted off the wall behind him.

He slid a little on the slick cement before working his legs back into action. Warrick was only a few feet in front of him. The main doors were there. Nick could see them. The flashes of light from the cop cars, the ambulances. It was all there, just in front of them.

The bad guys were still behind them. He could hear them. They were swearing, shooting off random shots. It was as if they knew they would have to stop to get a good shot in. Nick didn't want to think too much on it. He only wanted out. And it was so close.

Warrick reached the doors first, throwing them open. Looking past him, Nick could see the faces of friends, of allies. They were waiting; shocked at the scene they were presented. But he also couldn't hear the footsteps behind him anymore.

Throwing out his right hand, Nick forced his body to make one last hurrah to get outside. Something impacted into his back and threw his too far forward. Another hit his leg, making it turn outwards. Nick lost his balance and started to fall.

He turned his eyes upward. He could suddenly see Warrick more clearly. But the man was going down as well, shouting out in anguish. There was no grace in the fall. It was forced, deadly. Nick cried out a little as he could almost witness the bullets insert themselves into his friend's skin. Miniature pieces of cloth, flesh, and blood flew up into the air at each spot of impact. Nick had a feeling that's what his back looked like as well.

With Warrick down, and him still making his slow freefall, Nick could see more of the outside. The fresh air filled his lungs, clearing his head. He could see Grissom, Catherine, Greg, and Sara. They were standing almost directly in front of him. They looked as shocked as he felt.

Until another bullet rammed into his back. He had lost count. All he knew now was he was almost to the ground. The impact was hard, sharp. That fresh air was jolted out, rushing through his airway back into the night.

It was getting hazy. Sounds were taking new meanings around him. He could hear the screams of panic from outside. There were the sounds of the bad guys behind them, moving to get back into the deeper parts of the building. And then added were the SWAT members that finally had worked their way in through the back entrance.

Nick licked his dry lips with an equally dry tongue. His skin itched, burned. This time there had been back up. No one was supposed to get hurt in this mess. It was supposed to be contained, held together. He had followed the rules this time. No one could yell at him. Nick had played correctly.

He tried to pull in more air. But it was hard. His eyelids were heavy. And there was something pulling at him that he couldn't describe, but didn't want to turn away. It was almost nice.

Someone was over him, screaming at him. Hands were on him. Nick smiled a little. Then he let go.

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

Conrad Ecklie stood outside his SUV in complete shock. If anyone would ask him later what he had seen, he didn't know if he would have been able to give them full details. But now, with it all still fresh, it was a nauseating nightmare.

The doors had opened. Warrick and Nick were almost through them. But the two were shot down. Bullets came plowing through the doorway, out into the night. Several people had to duck for cover at the barrage. But Conrad hadn't. He watched them fall.

As soon as it was clear, the graveyard crew had moved to the door. And from the tears and cries from the four, he knew what had happened. It was over. CSI had just lost two men, two great men. Conrad turned away, his own eyes filling with tears.

It was heavy and dark as he moved away. The lights and noises faded to nothing more than a rush as he moved. People around him seemed to be nothing more than pale, peach blurs.

Death had filled the area. Good men were lost. Good men were taken before their time. And the tears would wash the area clean. He just couldn't stay to watch anymore. It was too painful, even for him. It was over.

There are two bodies - the rudimental and the complete; corresponding with the two conditions of the worm and the butterfly. What we call "death", is but the painful metamorphosis.
Edgar Allan Poe, Mesmeric Revelation

THE END

Author Note: Well, if you made it this far, congratulations are in order. As well as apologies. Many have thought for sure I would do this in other stories, but I decided I couldn't do it in something long. It had to be quick because, well, it wasn't an easy thing for me to do! But I needed to get it out of my head or I am never going to be able to work out my other story. Kept wanting to do this in that one and it just doesn't work with the plan.

So yeah, I give you guys something happy only to take it away so soon after. I just had to do it! And if you're not too mad at me, let me know what you thought. Oh hell, even if your mad, let me know. I'm going to run away now, before the blunt objects come flying through the screen. So sorry, but I had to do it! Bye!

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