Title: Racing Against Time
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Gil/Greg
Series: 1) Welcome To Hell, 2) Live Through This
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #415, Fate
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the beautiful Greg Sanders, just borrowing him for a while. Please do not sue.

***

"What do you mean, Greg's been kidnapped?"

Gil stared at Catherine, disbelief stamped on his features. This had happened to CSIs before, of course, but somehow, it seemed impossible that Greg could have been abducted. The thought sent an icy chill streaking down Gil's spine.

Silently, Catherine handed him her cell phone. Gil's heart clutched in his chest as he looked down at the picture on the screen -- Greg, bound and gagged, held captive by a man whose face was carefully kept out of the camera's range.

"I'd have thought it was just some kind of prank -- if they hadn't sent this, and three other pictures," Catherine told him, her voice carefully controlled. "We've got no clues as to where he is, or what they intend to do with him. They just sent these pictures to taunt us."

"They didn't give you any kind of indication of why they took him?" Gil inquired, a frown creasing his brow. "Catherine, they had to. Greg was obviously targeted. People don't go around kidnapping CSIs for no reason."

"We don't know who they are, Gil." Catherine's voice sounded defeated; she shook her head, closing her eyes. "They've had Greg for almost twelve hours now, if they'd just taken him when they sent the pictures. There's no telling what they've done to him."

"Catherine, there has to be some way to find him," Gil objected, grasping at any straw that might appear. "Did you study the background in the pictures? Did you track the phone they were sent to you from? What have you been doing for all these hours?"

If a look could kill, Gil was sure that he would have been at least ten feet under rather than the prescribed six. "Yes, Gil, we did. We're in the process of tracking the phone now. And as soon as we have any kind of information, you'll be the first to know."

"Have you told his parents?" Gil asked, more softly this time. "No, wait." He shook his head, sighing as he reconsidered his words. "Greg's parents are horribly overprotective of him. If they know that he's been kidnapped, there's no telling what they'll do."

"They'd probably descend on our office and blame us for getting their son into trouble," Catherine said dryly, sitting down at her desk. "Gil, I don't know what more we can do here. I want to get Greg back safe as much as you do. But how do we find him?"

"There's not much more you can do than what you're already doing," Gil said with another sigh, leaning back and raising a hand to his head. He needed to think about this, needed to spend a little time alone to marshal his whirling thoughts into some semblance of order.

When he had come by the lab to talk to Sara about their impending divorce, he hadn't expected to run into something like this. It was almost as though fate had thrown this situation into his lap, making it even more imperative that he and his soon-to-be ex-wife knew where they stood.

Was it fate that had made him come here just when Greg might need him the most? And was it some capricious whim of that same fate that had made him face his feelings for Greg and admit them, not only to himself but to his wife, at this particular time?

Gil had no idea why this had happened now, and he didn't want to know. He could puzzle out what fate might have in store for him later; right now, the important thing was to find Greg as quickly as possible, before they ran out of time.

Getting up, he left Catherine's office without another word, deep in thought. He didn't even realize where he was heading until he was standing by Greg's desk, looking down at the files scattered over the young man's work space, things that Greg had recently touched.

There were tears coming into his eyes; he had to raise a hand and blink rapidly to make sure that they didn't escape. He wasn't going to think of the worst that could happen; he was going to be positive, make himself believe that they would get Greg back safe and unharmed.

Moving slowly, he sank down into the chair behind Greg's desk, closing his eyes and resting his head in his hands. He needed to think, to come up with some working hypothesis of who had taken Greg and why they had done it -- and he had to do so quickly.

Wherever they'd taken Greg, it had to be outside of the city. He wasn't familiar with that stretch of land that had been behind Greg in the pictures, but he knew that it had to be somewhere a good distance away from the city. Which meant that they'd been driving a lot of the time that they'd had Greg.

And along that line of reasoning, it would also mean that they hadn't had time to harm Greg as of yet. Unless they'd intended to do so once they reached their destination and took those pictures, Gil thought, his heart sinking. They could be too late already.

No. No. He wouldn't let himself believe that. Fate wouldn't have brought him back here at this particular time, knowing in his heart that he had to tell Sara the truth about his feelings for Greg, and then take the young man he loved away from him so cruelly.

It hadn't occurred to him that Sara had already guessed how he felt -- from what she had said, apparently she'd known long ago. He had been the one who couldn't admit his own feelings, either to himself or to others. And now, he might have tried to hide them for too long.

It might be too late for him to hold Greg in his arms, to kiss him and tell him that he was loved. It might be too late for him to be with Greg, to make love to him, to feel that beautiful body next to his own, to make Greg his in every possible way that he could conceive of.

Did everyone else on the CSI team realize how he felt about Greg? Gil doubted it; he'd always been very careful not to make any untoward moves towards the younger man, even though he'd always wanted to. It had been hard, but he'd managed to keep his hands off.

Still, there had been times when he was tempted to throw caution to the winds and tell Greg exactly how he felt. He'd been surprised when the young man hadn't picked up on any of his hints -- but then again, Greg probably hadn't expected them.

And what would he have done if Greg had reciprocated? Would he have still run away, gone to Sara in the hopes that she could make him forget the person he really loved? Would he have wasted so much time before finally admitting his innermost emotions?

If he could have been with Greg, his relationship with Sara might still have happened, but it would never have gone as far as it had. He would never have tried to live a lie. He would have still left the team, but he would have been a lot happier with the life he'd made for himself.

He would never have gone so far away; he knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. He wouldn't have been able to keep himself away from Greg. He would have spent every day and night of his life longing for those lips, that body, the feel of holding Greg in his arms.

Not being with Sara every night had never mattered to him. He should have known from the beginning that he was hiding his real feelings, running away from what he truly wanted. But he hadn't been able to let himself admit that -- not until now. And now, it might be too late.

He wouldn't let it be too late. He wouldn't let the whims of fate take Greg away from him just when he had made up his mind to confess his feelings. Even if Greg didn't feel the same, at least he would have said what he needed to say; he wouldn't be lying to himself any more.

Gil raised his head as Catherine came into the room, laying her cell phone down on the desk in front of him. Another picture -- this one worse than the last few he'd seen on her phone. A picture that made his heart feel as though it had turned to stone.

The person in the photo was definitely Greg; there was no mistaking that spiky hair. Gil could only see the side of his face; he'd been photographed from behind, with his face turned to the side. It looked as though he was lying stretched out on some kind of rough rock.

His arms had been stretched out to the sides, obviously bound at the corners of whatever he was tied to; there was a cloth gag in his mouth, and Gil was sure that he was naked. He was at least shirtless; the smooth skin of his upper back and one shoulder were clearly visible.

"We have to find him, Catherine," Gil whispered, unable to tear his eyes away. What if Greg was even now being tortured, or harmed in some way? He wound never forgive himself for waiting so long to tell the love of his life how he felt if he was too late to say the words. Never.

Fate couldn't be this cruel. Greg couldn't be torn away from him before he'd had the chance to let the young man know what was in his heart; after so many years of denying his feelings, the chance to finally reach for what he truly wanted couldn't be snatched away from him.

They had to find Greg. And they had to find him quickly. Gil closed his eyes as a flash of memory came back to him -- only a flash, but it contained an idea that maybe, just maybe, would lead them to where Greg was being held captive. It was worth a try.

Gil knew that they were racing against time. He only hoped that they would win that race.

***

Next story in series - Rip Him To Shreds.