Grissom sat on his dirty mattress, his back against the wall with his knees pulled up in front of him. His arms were folded across his knees so that he could rest his head on his forearms. He had found this position to be the best way to get some rest, when he was allowed to. Having his knees pulled up and his head down made it a little easier to protect himself when his tormentors came crashing through the door to beat, torture or humiliate him.
            It was day time with sun’s rays stealing into his prison like a silent specter. Day time, days, how many days? Grissom rubbed his sweaty forehead into his arms, trying to keep his mind focused. When Grissom realized he was losing his ability to judge the days correctly he began to place tick marks on the wall, using his bloody thumb print.
            He looked at his grisly calendar and counted. Sixteen. Sixteen days since he had begun to keep track. So, maybe nineteen, twenty days total? Twenty days of beatings and twenty days of electrical shock, and hanging, choking, and near drowning… Twenty days of hell.
Grissom ground his forehead back and forth into his arms to the beat of his own chaotic inner voice. He was tired, so tired, he thought I want to lay down and sleep, I want out of this Hell hole, I want to shove my fists through the Devils faces and pound , and pound, and pound.  With his tormented thoughts reaching a crescendo his mind slowly gave into oblivion and finally Grissom’s thrashing head came to rest.
            Grissom. Grissom.
“GRISSOM!”
            Grissom shot up, pushing his back up against the wall and bringing his hands in front of his face in a defensive position. How long was I asleep? He thought as his eyes darted around his surroundings. Not long, I can still see the sun light.  For some insane feeling it made him giddy to know that he knew it was day time. He knew!
            “Ha, I know,” he shouted at the devil approaching him, his finger pointing accusingly “not long!”
            “That’s right Grissom, not long” Donny said in an imitation of his master’s voice.
            God, I hate this guy, Grissom thought wearily being yanked across the mattress by the back of his hair. His knees and legs were cramped and weak, making him stumble and fall. His captors always let him fall, just so that they could kick him while he was down and manhandle him to his feet.
            “Why don’t you say hi to the camera, Grissom?” Donny said pointing towards the camera being held by another of Bathory’s Devils.They had all become devils in Grissom’s tattered and tired mind. Evil devils that danced to the erratic beat of his heart and crashed through his dreams turning them to nightmares. They were always near, bringing pain and fear. Grissom had almost become use to the pain that had become part of his everyday life, he had even become mildly numb to the ordinary fear that the devils tried to provoke. It was when they invaded his mind, his thoughts and dreams that Grissom knew terror beyond his control.
            Grissom looked at the camera, dread suffusing his body. The camera did not bode well for him, it meant that Markus was coming which meant Donny and the other devils were going to turn the pain up several notches.
            Grissom stumbled again. Donny reached forward expecting to pull the man from the floor again, only to get an elbow crashing into his nose. Spinning around, Grissom came at the dazed younger man with his fists. Donny, tending to a profusely bleeding nose held out one arm to fend off Grissom’s attack. He was able to land another punch across Donny’s left cheek before Scott tackled him to the floor with his bulk, the two men screamed profanities at Grissom as Scott attempted to get control of the thrashing Grissom.
            Donny, his face red with blood and anger, came at Grissom with feet swinging; his heavy boots crashing into Grissom’s side- once, twice three times. Grissom’s body lurched with each blow. With a whoosh of air and a groan, Grissom shoved Scott towards his injured side to try and block any more of Donny’s kicks. He saw white pin pricks flash in his vision as he struggled to get up and away from the two younger men.
            Grissom could hear a cackle echoing in his head. Was he laughing? No his teeth were clenched tightly shut.
            “Very good Grissom,” Markus laughed, applauding Grissom’s fight “It’s always good to go down fighting isn’t it.”
            Grissom watched the man circle behind the camera. Markus had shaved his dark blonde head clean. Why? The man would have to wear sunglasses or colored contacts to truly disguise himself. Anyone who had met the Bathory brothers could identify in a moment if they had caught a glimpse of their gaze.  The cold, pale blue-silver eyes, like highly polished steel with a sinister glint that rendered their gaze almost soulless could never be forgotten.
            “Why don’t you come over here and we’ll see who goes down, Bathory!” Grissom ground out between clenched teeth. Donny and Scott were trying to wrestle a harness of sorts onto Grissom’s head. Thrashing his head around, Grissom tried to avoid the straps as they cinched it to his head.
            Bathory laughed and clapped his hands together once. Oh, how he enjoyed Grissom’s defiance. He would have never thought he would get such sheer satisfaction out of such a challenge. Creating fear was easy it took little skill. Hold a gun to someone’s face and they will plead for their lives and drop to their knees in fear, any thug could do it. But destroying someone’s will, to ravage their mind and soul and break them down into their most base selves- that took skill.
            The leather harness around Grissom’s head was made of three straps. One came down and across his chin; it was intertwined with a strap that came around the base of his skull and one that ran over the crown of his head. On the latter strap was a braided loop where a rope was attached. The rope ran up the length of a wooden support beam to an old fashioned barn pulley. Donny pulled the rope tight stretching Grissom’s neck upward and bringing him back hard against a wooden column.
            “I have to tell you what a challenge you are,” Bathory said walking up to Grissom as his wrists were being bound by two separate ropes “my brother would probably say it is because you are unworthy or some such nonsense. But I must say I do not mind.”
            Grissom watched the man warily as he tried to fight against his restraints. In the beginning he had tried to reason, even argue with Bathory about what he was doing but in the end he realized it was like arguing with a pretzel, both would still be twisted.
            Bathory motioned for someone standing in the shadows behind the bright lights that shone in Grissom’s face. A figure in a black hooded sweatshirt wheeled in a stainless steel cart. Grissom could see her face even though she hung her head low, she was frightened. She tried to keep her gaze on the floor in front of her feet but couldn’t seem to stop the terrified darting of her eyes.           Kimmi. She was the one point of light in this otherwise dark place he had found himself. The first few times she had come in to nurse him and feed him, she had almost run from the room seeming to be as frightened of him as she was of the others. Grissom couldn’t even get her to tell him her name when he had asked, only learning it when one of the devils had called to her. Why was she here, with THEM?
            Grissom’s struggles increased as he saw the contents of the cart. “What the hell do you think will happen to your brother, Bathory?” He shouted, trying to keep his eyes from the cart. “He’s not getting out just because you have me hostage.”           
            Bathory looked at Grissom sideways, his cold soulless gaze stabbing the captive man. “True, but I never thought that Mr. Grissom,” he said circling Grissom like a vulture checking on its next meal. “You were an unnecessary risk in my equation.”
            “What equation?” Grissom grunted still trying to fight his bindings.
            “Mmmm, let’s just say that you were clever enough to catch us once,” Bathory said coming to stand face to face with Grissom, his penetrating stare digging into Grissom’s skull. “I wanted to” he pauses as he turns from Grissom “avoid that possibility this time.”
            It was difficult to speak with the strap across his chin pulled tightly. He wanted to tell Bathory that he was not the only one that worked his brother’s case but he feared setting the evil lose. Would Bathory go after one of the other CSIs if they thought they were a threat? He couldn’t risk that, besides would it matter in the mind of a sociopath like Markus Bathory?
            “You’re not as anonymous as you would like to believe,” Grissom mumbled through his teeth. “Your goons left evidence at the scene, I can guarantee it.”
            Donny paused tying Grissom’s feet to the post and looked up at Bathory not sure what Grissom’s knowledge meant in the whole drama they participated in.
            Bathory patted the younger man’s head reassuring. Evil comforting evil, how very Faustian, Grissom nervously mused as his arms were pulled painfully wide from his body.
            Grissom watched in growing fear as Bathory busied himself with a white lab coat. He buttoned the garment slowly, toying with Grissom, allowing the fear to build with each fastening. Grissom’s gaze darted about the room trying to find anything to focus on besides the cart.
            “I have a little something extra for you today.” Bathory spoke as if he had a treasured gift to give Grissom. Of their own volition, Grissom’s eyes darted to Bathory. In his hands he prepared a syringe, flicking the hypodermic with his middle finger as he adjusted the amount of serum within.
            “I want you to be able to appreciate this to its fullest without succumbing to oblivion,” hissed the silver eyed devil before Grissom.
            Grissom bucked as hard as his ties would let him, trying to avoid the piercing of the needle into his hip. The jab of the needle sent his heart racing even faster as he felt the serum enter his body.
            “What is that?” Grissom growled a combination of fear and anger.
            Bathory sneered at Grissom as he returned the syringe to its place on the glistening cart. “Just a little something extra to make our time here more productive,” he said slightly distracted as he pawed over the gleaming instruments in front of him. “Did you, by chance, see what I have brought for you?” Bathory’s voice was almost soothing, like a parent to a beloved child.
            Grissom had and he was scared, regardless of the calm appearance he was trying to maintain. On top of the cart, lying on a bright white, lace cloth were medical probes, hooks, retractors and an assortment of scalpels, their highly polished surfaces shining brightly. Grissom chose not to answer.
            “Let’s start with something simple,” Bathory hissed, his white teeth showing in a smile that was just above a snarl as he approached Grissom.

************

 

            She needed to get away! Sara ran-walked through the hallway not sure where she was going, just needing to be alone. Spotting the door to the ladies rest room she went crashing through the door. The large washroom echoed the door bouncing off the tiled wall and only added to the despair that was engulfing Sara.
            Sara’s chest burned, her heart raced and she couldn’t seem to breathe as she paced the washroom like a caged animal. What the Hell is wrong with me? She couldn’t tell if she was having a panic attack, since she had never had one before, but she was pretty sure she was starting to hyperventilate. Not having a paper bag to breathe into, Sara grabbed some paper towels from the wall dispenser and held them over her nose and mouth.
            That is how Catherine found her, hunched over with paper towels covering her face. “Are you alright?” Catherine asked coming to stand next to Sara.
            Sara raised a hand and nodded her head in response as she tried to control the rate of her breathing. If things had been normal she would be terribly embarrassed for Catherine to find her here like this. Sara prided herself on being a “tough girl”, especially around Catherine who was one of the toughest women Sara had ever known.
            Catherine looked at her concern furrowing her brow. Noting that Sara’s breathing was starting to slow down, Catherine decided to take stock in her appearance.
            “Ugh, what a mess I am,” Catherine said taking in her visage “These doubles and triples are start-ting to show.”
            Having gotten her breathing under control, Sara came to stand at the sink next to Catherine. She half chuckled at the reflection she saw in both mirrors. She had nothing to chuckle about and knew that it was just nerves. Splashing some cold water in her face, Sara felt the need to just sit. At the end of the row of sinks was a bench and that was where Sara decided to collapse.
            With her elbows on her knees Sara placed her head in her hands. Her emotions were in tatters. Sara had come to live on hope. She had to believe he was still alive and that they would find him. But she was so terribly anguished by the lack of progress they had made in finding him and she was AFRAID, seriously afraid for him. The Bathory’s would not be kind to him and Sara knew it.
            “Sara?” Catherine sat next to her on the little bench. Since there were only a handful of women in the crime lab and they were spread over three different shifts it was actually kind of rare to find two women in the ladies washroom at the same time.
            Sara didn’t know what to say to Catherine. She knew that Catherine was concerned about her, she was even trying to console her but she didn’t know what to say. She and Grissom had kept their personal relationship private. It had felt right, since they were both very protective of their privacy. It also seemed like the best thing to do since they did not want any conflicts with their jobs. There was nothing in the employee handbook about co-workers dating but there was probably some unofficial gray area concerning supervisors and subordinates.
            “I…” Sara began shaking her head in defeat because she still didn’t know what to say.
            Catherine leaned forward, her elbows on her knees as she tried to get a better look at Sara’s face. “I know you love him, Sara.”
            Sara turned startled eyes on Catherine, but still she said nothing, unsure.
            “I love him, we all love him. Even when he drives us ab-so-lutely crrrazy,” she shook her hands in mock exacerbation “we love him.”
            Sara smiled thinking of all things that Grissom could do that drove her nuts. He was a man of many eccentricities and sometime they could be maddening but that was Grissom. That was what made him so amazingly unique.
            “I also know that the love we all have for him is very different… from yours.” Catherine quietly said her expression letting Sara know that she had nothing to worry about.
            Sara wasn’t sure where the words came from, they just came and she couldn’t stop the flood of words and tears that poured forth. “Ahh, Catherine I am…I feel… I know it’s crazy and that it’s always been crazy this…” she gestured with her hands in an effort to fill in the blanks that her stammering left “but it isn’t. You know what I mean?”
            Catherine smiled and nodded her head. Anyone else listening to Sara’s attempt at a conversation might be completely lost but Catherine knew, she understood. As Gil had once told her, she was good with people.
            “I know,” she said encouraging Sara to go on with her gentle tone. She wanted Sara to just let it out, let it go, because if she didn’t Catherine worried the woman may end up sick or worse.
            “It works, you know? It’s not always easy but…its right, it’s perfect for us.” Sara’s eyes bounced from Catherine’s face to the floor and for moment she looked like she was examining the tile very extensively. “I think I have loved him forever,” she whispered more to herself than to Catherine “and it’s wonderful and it’s amazing and I just don’t know how I am going to make it if he doesn’t come back” Sara stated looking directly into Catherine’s eyes.
            Catherine handed Sara a paper towel to dry her tears. “You know, Sara, I think that if any of us had been placed in Grissom shoes right now, knowing what we know, none of us would have made it this far. Gil is the smartest guy I know and he has such fortitude… well heck you know, look how long it took him to see the light with you.” She said the last lightheartedly.
            Sara showed Catherine a gap-toothed grin her spirits rising slightly. “Yea, well I probably have you to thank partially.”
            “Me,” Catherine said mildly shocked “was it the plant?”
            “The plant? No it wasn’t the plant,” Sara smiled reminiscently “it was a lot of little things but my big blow up with you and Ecklie was part of it.”
            Catherine’s eyes got big as she leaned back from Sara. “How?”
            Sara pursed her lips together in an attempt to control her smile. “Catherine!” Sara said mildly shocked.
            “What?” Catherine asked confused until it dawned on her what Sara thought she was asking. “No, no, NOOO, I’m not asking about…” she was trying to search for the right word “that.” Catherine shook her head, “Too much like talking about your brother’s sex life if you know what I mean.”
            Sara smiled wanly, “Catherine?”
            Catherine took Sara’s wrist from her knee and shook it, “Hey what’s said in the women’s restroom, stays in the women’s restroom.” She said, altering the television ad.
            Sara smiled and got to her feet. The ladies checked their appearances in the mirror before stepping out to do battle once more.
            “Come on, I saw Warrick is back,” Catherine said trying to instill a little hope “let’s see if he and Sofia found out anything on Kempler.”
            Sara nodded her head and followed Catherine. She knew that Catherine was trying to boost her spirits with the possibility that something might come up in Kempler’s background but so far every person related to the Bathory brothers was either dead or had just dropped of the face of the Earth. Still, she couldn’t give up hope, would never give hope unless they showed her his dead body!
            Sara veered at the last second before leaving the washroom. Running into the nearest stall she gave way to her nausea.
            Catherine said nothing. With a gentle rub on Sara’s back followed by a supportive pat she let Sara have a moment of privacy while she headed towards the conference room.

 

*******
           
            Walking in the hall, Nick heard the shrill sound of glass breaking before…
            “DAMN IT!”
            Nick peered into the break room to see what the commotion was all about. There Greg Sanders mumbled to himself as he picked up the larger broken pieces of a coffee pot.
            “Hey Greggo,” Nick said entering the room “Did your Blue Hawaiian go volcanic on you?”
            Greg, bent over still, turned to look at Nick. The normally happy-go-lucky CSI had the dourest look on his face that Nick could ever recall. Not even when Greg had not passed his final field proficiency the first time had he looked so grim. But it was more than grim, Nick realized. Before Greg had turned back to the task of cleaning up the broken glass, Nick had caught the subtle gleam of unshed tears.
            Perhaps more then any of them, Grissom had taken Greg under his wing. Sure Greg could irritate the hell out of Grissom but Nick knew, even though Grissom had never said it, that he had been the one most proud of Greg’s field promotion.
            “I dropped the stupid coffee pot,” Greg grumbled dumping the glass in the nearby trash can before wiping the floor down with a rag from the sink.
            “No big deal, even Grissom has broken a coffee pot,” Nick said, purposely trying to keep his tone light.
            Greg sighed deeply, “Yea, I remember when he swatted that one coffee pot right out of Ecklie’s hand. I was never so glad to be a glass wall or two away.”
            Nick chuckled remembering the arson case that Grissom had taken over from Ecklie. Ecklie being Ecklie couldn’t see any possibility but the one he had rubber stamped. Grissom never one to grab onto an assumption, followed the evidence until it had proven the man innocent and Ecklie wrong.
            “Have you heard anything about the prints we lifted at that girl’s apartment?” Nick asked still trying to keep his tone light.
            Greg shook his head, “No Jacqui and Mandy are working on the prints and Wendy is running the blood I swabbed from the bathroom through CODIS.”
            “CODIS? So it’s not the vics?” Nick asked.
            Greg shook his head, “hopefully that is good news for us.”
            “Mandy said she was done with the letter that Brass found. I was going to check on it after I see Hodges. Just needed some liquid GO juice but…” Greg looked at the broken coffee pot in the sink
            Nick reached back into the refrigerator pulling out a cola and handed it to Greg. “Not as much GO but it can’t hurt,” he said with a smile.
            Living on two to three hours asleep, eating take out or vendo food for days, Greg was certain that short of catastrophic injury or death, nothing would hurt at this point. “Thanks,” he said popping the top.
            “Why don’t you check with Hodges, I’ll start on the letter and when you’re done you can come help me out,” Nick led Greg out into the hall, splitting off in the opposite direction at the bob of Greg’s head.
            Greg was rounding the corner that would lead to trace when he was stopped by an energetic Wendy Simms.
            “Hey, Greg,” she said bouncing out of DNA “Got a hit on your sink swab!”
            Greg’s mouth dropped open. “Really? Who?” he asked, snatching the paper from Wendy’s hand.
            “Scott Abrams,” Greg whispered thoughtfully. Noticing Wendy was still standing next to him, “Thanks.”
            Wendy had watched Grissom’s team for weeks and could see the toll it was taking on all of them. Everyone at the lab was affected by Grissom’s abduction but his team was being hit the hardest. Greg was sporting a CSI ball cap and looked like he hadn’t seen a razor in a day or two. He looked older, more worn and Wendy had to admit she was starting to be a little concerned for him, for all of them.
            “One other thing,” she said cutting her observation short “I noticed an oily substance in the sample. It wasn’t human so I kicked it over to Hodges.”
            Greg was intrigued. “Okay, thanks,” he said resuming his trek to the land of Trace and to its ogre king Hodges.
            Hodges was studying something in the microscope when Greg entered the lab. From the dual shelf, rolling stainless steel cart Greg could see that Trace was seriously backed up.
            “Wow!” Greg hadn’t seen Trace backed up this bad in years, maybe not since the bus sabotage case.
            Hodges lifted his head wearily from his microscope. “Your eloquence is astounding,” he muttered as he backed away from the scope, motioning for Greg to take a look.
            Greg gave a little frown before peering at the sample under the scope. “Looks like some kind of oil.”
            “Specifically it is AMSOIL synthetic blend made for motorcycles,” Hodges informed Greg. “It was with the blood sample you sent to DNA.”
            Greg frowned. “Why is there motorcycle oil in my blood sample?” he questioned. Seeing the look on Hodges face he held up his hand. “I know, I know, not your job.”
            Hodges cocked his head to one side and nodded.
            Greg knew that Hodges had bumped his sample to the front of a very long line. “Thanks,” he said holding up the paper with the results.
            “Need to get the big guy back,” Hodges said as he went back to work.
            Greg hesitated momentarily before leaving the lab. Hodges was annoying at times even downright grating on the nerves but he was never malicious, always did his job well and could definitely be counted on in a pinch. Of course, short of sodium pentothal Greg would never admit it to the aggravating technician. Greg smiled at the thought of Hodges spilling his guts in an incoherent ramble.
            Nick looked up from the table where he had been studying the letter to see Greg smiling as he came to stand next to him.
            “You’re in a better mood,” Nick said a grin forming on his face.
            Greg waved it off not wanting to explain the reasoning why. “What have we got?” he asked looking at the letter on the table.
            Nick wasn’t going to pursue Greg’s change in mood to hard. He was just glad the younger man was feeling more himself. A dour, sad Greg was a hard thing to take.
            “I dusted it and prints are being processed…also swabbed for DNA, Wendy’s running it now,” Nick informed him.
            Greg slipped on a pair of latex gloves and grabbed the envelope from where it was sitting on the table. “Extra postage,” he said noting the multiple stamps.
            Nick looked at the envelope Greg was examining. “Yea… well,” he reached for another envelope “probably had to do with the extra weight.”
            Nick handed the other envelope to Greg. The exterior of the envelope was pristine aside from three creases where it had been folded and the printed name and address.
            “Name and address are different,” Greg said handing the envelope back to Nick.
            “Yea, I noticed that,” Nick placed the extra envelope off to the side. He had already processed it, so was more concerned with the contents of the actual letter. “I think the extra envelope and letter were mailed to Jeanie Etts so that Jeanie could then mail the letter.”
            Greg shook his had. “Why?” he asked.
            “Take a look at the letter.” Nick pushed the piece of paper across the table for Greg to look at.
            Picking the letter up Greg read it out loud.

            Toby,
                        I think Markus has forgotten about you. The others have sort of stopped talking too. I was really afraid for awhile and you were probably right not to tell me where you were going at first cause Markus was scary and I’d probably told if I knew.
                        Jeanie thinks it’s time to run. I think so too. Something is way up! Markus had me and the guys snag this cop guy. Don’t know why but it can’t be good. I think it has to do Richard but don’t care. I just want out.
                        I can’t get away but Jeanie will be there soon. I have to wait. Markus has all working on this dude. Man, I’d not want to be him. He’s tuff for an old guy. I don’t know why he just don’t die cause I sure would. Don’t ever want to play Markus and Richard’s games!
                        I thought I’d go after the old dude dies but I think Markus has plans for him. I has to wait until then to go. I think it happens in a couple of weeks. I know how to find Jeanie and she knows how to find you so I’ll see you soon.

                                                                                                                                    Love you,
                                                                                                                                                Vonna
p.s. I should of come with you the first time

            The post script was accompanied by a picture of a sad face. Greg noted the whole tone of the letter seemed very juvenile in writing style and penmanship even though the content was anything but. He recalled that Warrick had said Vonna Singer had dropped out of school early on so the general look and layout of the correspondence was not out of character.
            “Do you think she is talking about Grissom?” Greg asked his face a mask of worry as he held the letter for Nick to take.
            Nick nodded, “yea, I do. She could easily mistake us as a cop and anyone over the age of thirty is old to a nineteen year old so…”
            Greg agreed. It definitely sounded like it could be Grissom and if the letter was fairly recent, it meant that Grissom was still alive. An audible sigh escaped him at that affirmation. No one wanted to think it but in quiet times the thought snuck into their thoughts like a nightmare in the night.
            Nick heard Greg sigh, adding a silent Amen of his own. The two men worked on processing the letter and copying it before heading off to find Catherine and the others. Even though they did not have an exact date on the letter it let them know that Grissom had not been killed out right and that it appeared Grissom’s captors meant to keep him alive- at least for the short term.