Donny grunted under the weight of the body as he wrestled it onto his right shoulder. At first light he had dug the shallow graves that he would be filling throughout the day. Scott and Jake had searched the desert and nearby foothills without success. With each return the certainty that they would have to pull up stakes and abandon their desert hideaway became more obvious and with each return another grave was filled.
            Markus liked the ability to travel with out being noticed. A middle aged man traveling with a large group of young people obliterated any chance he had for anonymity. So whether by luck or seniority Markus chose those that would stay permanently at the ranch and those that got to go.
            They had all been unsuspecting. Returning to the ranch dejected at having not found Grissom then following Scott or Jake to the nearby sluices to “search”. Their internal alarms still did not go off when they came across Donny waiting. No, by the time that red flare of self preservation went off the unlucky bastards were clutching at their slick necks in a desperate attempt to hold back the pulsing streams of blood.
            With a shrug and bounce of his shoulder, Donny filled the last grave. The last one had been the only one that had presented a challenge. He had seemed nervous almost from the moment that he had seen Donny. His eyes had searched the rocky cliffs and the dilapidated sluices in a desperate attempt to negate his rising fear. It wasn’t until he had bolted from Donny that Donny knew he was not a willing lamb.
            A quick chase, a desperate struggle and some prolonged begging all ended with Donny sinking his well used knife into the young man’s chest, just below the sternum. He had died almost instantly, which Donny was actually thankful for. He had actually started to like Nicky Hale. He had started to show some real promise as far as Donny was concerned but…
            With a bored roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders and shovels worth of dirt across the dead man’s face Donny liquidated any regrets he may have had. Markus had decided and Donny delivered. His loyalty was for Richard and Markus. His love and devotion were for them and them alone. It was as simple as that.
            Reaching the long open porch that surrounded the house, Donny crossed paths with Scott as he exited the house.
            “Markus wants me to tie up some lose ends we have running about,” Scott explained with a sneer as he freed a set of keys from his front hip pocket.
            “Alright,” Donny said flatly. Markus had already informed him of Scott’s tasks.
            “It’s going to be good to get back to Vegas for a short while,” Scott rattled on blithely unaware of Donny’s scowl.
            “Just remember what your business is all about.”
            Scott slapped Donny on the back. “Dude, you need to get laid BAD!” Scott chuckled before bounding of the porch.
            Donny watched his longtime friend drive off. The dust kicked up by the plain white, Tempo obscuring the car in the dwindling days light. It was at these times when Donny felt the differences between him and Scott most profoundly. Scott thought of himself first and everyone and everything else came in a distant hundredth. Everything for Scott was about feeling good. Drugs, sex and violence were his chocolate wrapped, yummy goodness and Scott had a serious sweet tooth.
            “Markus?” Donny called out as he entered the house.
            The interior of the house was like going back in time. Everything screamed 1972. From the green shag carpet on the floor to the dark orange and mustard yellow furniture of the living room, everything was left as it had been when Mary Starr Bathory had resided there. There were even remnants of tin foil still glued to the ceiling in an attempt to stop cancerous rays from bombarding Mary’s delusional mind.
            The ranch had been a hideaway for thirty-five years, starting when Mary Bathory had stolen away her ten year old sons and hidden them from their father. The three had lived in near isolation for almost two years until Mary had convinced Richard that she could live beyond her mortal body and that she had to get rid of her existing body before her enemies tracked it down and tainted it with cancer and radioactive tumors.
            Markus had returned from the mountains to find his mother dissected from breastbone to pubic bone; her heart lying in a green crockery bowl. The momentary shock quickly dissolved as the twelve year old Markus placated his brother and helped remove their mother’s brain from her skull. Mary Bathory had left strict instruction for Richard and the young boy was determined to follow them to the letter.
            Markus was almost relieved by his mother’s death. Her growing instability and influence over Richard had become an increasing irritant for the young Markus. His mother’s paranoid rants and delusions of spiritual greatness concerning Richard had been interspersed with moments of total self destruction alternating with complete despair. It was a rollercoaster ride of chaos that a young control freak like Markus grew to loath.
            “Donny,” Markus greeted as he entered the living room. “Is everything taken care of?”
            Donny gave a simple nod. Scott was on his way to take care of the loose ends Markus had assigned him and Jake was waiting in the van outside with Markus’s special guest. The rest of the residents of the Silver Starr Ranch would remain in the hastily dug, shallow graves Donny had placed them in. In all likelihood the local wildlife would dig them out of their meager graves and scatter their bodies throughout the desert.
            Either way, they were dead and gone, Donny thought with a complete lack of emotion.
            “We will drop Jake off with our guest at the station,” Markus said laying out their itinerary “You and I have an appointment with our Romanian friend.”
           
************************************************************************************************************* 

          
            Thunder rolled through the pre-dawn night sky, sounding as if the mountains that surrounded the desert town were being drug slowly across the hardened earth. Occasionally a distant boom would punctuate the interim silence moments after a flash of dancing lightning. Mother Nature’s light show was spectacular but she paled in comparison to the show that was the city of Las Vegas.
            The thick rain drops that accompanied the storm smacked heavily against the large panes of the hospital window. The sound was a grateful distraction to the sound of the soft hiss of the ventilator and the eerie stillness of the man lying under the soft lit lights just above the hospital bed. With the storm raging outside contrasting with the unnatural calm within, Nick Stokes felt like he was choking on his own shredded emotions.
            It hurt to look at Grissom lying in the hospital bed, his eyes blackened with one swollen shut and stitches bordering the brow. Both his lower and upper lips were split and there was a nasty cut just under the right hand side of his jaw line. The hospital staff had shaved part of his beard off before going into surgery and had finished the job after they had moved him to the intensive care wing. It wasn’t the best of jobs; Nick could still see some dark stubble. Still, he couldn’t blame the nurses since they had had more urgent things to worry about then grooming Grissom to perfection. No, Nick was just thankful the medical personnel had given Grissom a fighting chance.
            Nick stared out the glossy window at the early evening storm, the lightning slashing through the night sky like a petulant child demanding its fair share of the attention. The lights of the strip could be seen not far away, its multi colored glow oozing into the blackness. Vegas was like the pendulum of an atomic clock, always moving. He just wished some of that kinetic energy would spill over on to his injured friend.
            Slowly his eyes returned to the ghostly reflection of Grissom in the window. “We’ll find’em Gris, I promise,” Nick swore softly as he ducked his head and swallowed hard. “Man!” he shook his head fiercely, “It is so hard to see you like this…you’re Grissom.” Turning to the inert man, Nick smiled bravely. “How about you wake up to let us know you’re gonna be okay? You can take a nice, long siesta after that.”
            Nick could feel the hot pressure of tears building up behind his eyes as his mind happily tripped down memory lane. He had transferred to Las Vegas eight, almost nine, years ago. After college he had worked as a police officer in Lubbock and Amarillo with his initial goal being to one day be a Texas Ranger but Nick Stokes had come to realize that he was put through an emotional ringer every day and it was starting to take a toll on him. With his Criminal Science degree and some night time classes and seminars under his belt, he applied to an open position in the Las Vegas Crime Lab and came face to face with Gil Grissom.
            Nick would probably be the first to admit that he was a little in awe of the man. A CSI out of Dallas he had known had praised him highly, almost too highly in Nick’s opinion. How could one investigator be that good? He had thought skeptically. But his doubts had been quickly erased when, for his first case with Grissom they had worked a serial rapist that left few clues other than a string of victims.
            The perpetrator had turned out to be a run of the mill beat cop that targeted women that looked like an ex-fiancée. His unmemorable sixteen year career showed nothing to indicate he was prone to violence but Grissom had become suspicious of him early on. To Grissom the man seemed to eager for details, to readily available at crime scenes and when the man unexpectedly flared up at a line of seemingly innocuous observations concerning the “unknown” perp he knew he was no longer safe behind his cloak of anonymity. He was on Grissom’s radar; one place criminals never want to be.
            After that Nick had been eager to work and learn from Grissom. Maybe it was a little bit of hero worship on his part but Nick couldn’t think of anyone with enough gray matter that didn’t respect Grissom’s intellect and abilities as a criminalist. He had an array of knowledge that was astounding, perplexing, even annoying at times but he was the master professor and Nick had become a first rate criminalist under his tutelage.
            Nick heard the hospital door open and ducked and turned his head away as he tried to blink the tears from his eyes. He tended to be a soft touch, he knew it, but this case, this victim was as close to home as it got.
            “Nick?”
            Nick turned at Sara’s quite voice. She had come into the room and now stood at Grissom’s bed side looking down at the beat and broken man. Her dark eyes glistened with heart wrenching sadness, as silently her dam broke and the tears slid unhindered down her cheeks. It was then that Nick knew that Sara loved Grissom, truly loved him. It wasn’t a crush or a passing fancy, it was the kind of love that lasted a lifetime and only the truly blessed enjoyed.
            Nick watched as her hand drifted towards his unmoving hand. She softly caressed the back being careful to avoid the HEPLOCK for the I.V. and the bandaged knuckles covering the ripped and bruised skin. From the outward appearance of Grissom’s fists, it was obvious to Nick that the man had put up a hell of a fight. The thought of the perpetrators taking a few well deserved hits lifted Nick’s spirits infinitesimally.
            He continued to watch Sara delicately stroke Grissom’s hand. The tears that slipped down her cheek skirted her jaw to pool at her chin before falling like rain to disappear in the dark blouse she was wearing.  Nick had never seen Sara cry. He had seen her upset, angry, even melancholy but never had he seen her filled with such sorrow. Sara was one of the toughest people he knew but at that particular moment she seemed frail. Her thin frame stooped from fatigue and grief, she raised her hand to push a wayward curl back from Grissom’s face.
            Nick came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He was startled by her slightness, he could feel her bones quite easily and his concern for her increased.
            “Sara, when was the last time you ate?” Nick asked as he attempted to turn her around to face him. Sara gently fought him, not wanting to turn away from Grissom. She took some consolation in watching his chest rise and fall, even if it was not completely on his own.
            “I’m fine, Nick,” she quietly told him. She was too tired and worried to try and recall when she ate last.
            Nick could see that if Sara was left to her own devises she would end of in the hospital along with Grissom. If she wasn’t going to take care of herself then it was up to the rest of the team to do so.
            “I’m going out to get some coffee and something to eat,” he told her firmly, giving up on trying to turn her from Grissom’s still form. “I’ll bring you something back.”
            Sara nodded and turned briefly to give him a wan smile. Nick pulled her into his embrace and hugged her. “He’s going to be fine,” Nick promised before leaving her alone with Grissom in the muted light of the room.
            Somewhere in the back of her mind Sara registered the door opening and closing but her main focus was the man lying in front of her. Sara picked up the wounded hand closest to her, holding it in her two hands as she sat down on the edge of Grissom’s bed. She smiled as she saw the wayward curl had found its way back, lying across his forehead just above his swollen left eye. Grissom was very precise in his grooming. He had always kept his beard neatly trimmed and his hair cut just so.  “Your hair would be driving you nuts, babe,” she told him, her voice husky from emotion. She reached up with one hand and moved the obstinate curl away from the bruised and battered eye
            Leaning closer Sara said to him in a hushed voice, “I need you to wake up for me. I need to know you’re…you’re okay.”
            A flash of lightening caught her attention outside his hospital window. It was the first storm that Las Vegas had had in awhile. “It’s storming…hasn’t done that in awhile. Remember the last storm?” Sara asked smiling. “That road washed out after we had processed that body near Palos Verde…had to stay at that hotel, hmmm…you were such a clever boy getting two rooms with an adjoining door. All nice and proper on paper, just the way Ecklie likes it.”
            Sara grinned and in a sly voice whispered, “But what Ecklie doesn’t know…ahhh.”
            Sara let go of his hand, setting it gently back against the pale blue cover. She wasn’t going anywhere tonight; she’d told Catherine she was taking some of her vacation time. Sara hadn’t requested it or asked for it, she had just stated it and was going to take it. Catherine had just told her she would see her in the morning. Pulling one of the room’s chairs up next to Grissom’s bed, Sara settled in for the night.
            “I love you,” Sara whispered, placing a gentle kiss at his temple. She took up the hand that she had left earlier, bending forward she laid her head across her arms and fell asleep for the first time in days.
            When Nick returned a short while later he didn’t have the heart to wake her. Placing the brown bag with the onion bagel and cream cheese he had gotten from the cafeteria on the small round table, Nick covered Sara with a spare blanket from a wooden shelf near the door. He smiled when she didn’t move.
            “Worn out,” he whispered.
            Taking up residence in the remaining chair, Nick tried to make himself comfortable as he split his attention between the storm outside and the quite, calm that had descended on the room. He looked at Sara, her two hands softly grasping Grissom’s one and he wondered if Grissom knew how lucky he was to have someone like Sara love him. He hoped the man did, Grissom was a good man but not very adept when it came to human relationships.
            “If you two could just get your act together…” he mused wistfully.

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

            Catherine hustled into the break room, having been held up by Conrad Ecklie and the Sheriff. They wanted updates, memos and meetings. All Catherine wanted was for Grissom to wake up and get better so that he could help the night crew capture the sadistic degenerates that had abducted him.
            Catherine had away of rushing without appearing rushed or harried. Sara had once commented that if she could just master that skill no one would ever notice when she walked into work late. Catherine had let her know that it was a talent honed by years of strip club work. “Guy has to believe you are really interested, when all you are thinking is hurry up and slip me the cash so I can go to the next,” Catherine had said.
            Throwing a file and a few papers onto the black polished surface of the table, Catherine took her seat at the head. Warrick sat to her right his back to the glowing drink machine, while Greg and Nick sat to her left. .No sooner had Catherine taken her seat then David Hodges scurried in. He was the complete polar opposite of Catherine, harried and flustered by his tardiness.
            Warrick and Greg had a mildly curious, slightly annoyed look on their face as the lab technician took the open seat next to Warrick. Placing his reports on the table in front of him, Hodges scooted his chair forward, a giant grin on his face as his gaze darted around the table before falling on Catherine. She had requested his presence at the beginning of shift, not wanting to have to chase the Trace reports down are update everyone as she saw them.
            “I asked Hodges to sit in so we are all on the same page from the get go,” Catherine informed the other men. “He’s been working the trace off of Grissom’s clothes.” Turning to Hodges Catherine asked, “What do you have for us?”
            Hodges bounced as he tried to scoot his chair even closer to the table. “It might fall under what I don’t have. Grissom’s clothes were loaded with trace and I took it upon myself to grab the toxicology report from-“
            “Hodges!” Catherine said in a firm voice. She wasn’t interested in stroking the man’s ego. He was a talented lab technician and Catherine had found him mildly amusing, which sometimes made up for his more aggravating personality traits.
            Hodges blinked momentarily before collecting himself and addressing the various reports he had brought with him. “Yes, okay…well, I found several interesting things. Grissom’s clothes were still wet, when I got them from Catherine. I, umm,” he searched for the report he was informing the group about, slightly fluster that it was not on top. “Yes… diatomite, algae, Boron, Calcium and trace amounts of radon,” Hodges looked up from the paper he was reading from.
            “Radon?” Warrick asked bewildered “isn’t that, like an underground gas or something.”
            Hodges shook his head enthusiastically. “Yes, it is the byproduct of uranium breaking down in soil. Causes lung cancer…I use a detector myself…just in case.”
            Warrick stared at Hodges before shaking his head. “What does all that mean, exactly?” he asked.
            “It could mean he was near a well,” Greg answered uncommitted.
            “A well?” Catherine asked. Greg seemed to throw the information out like a small tip but he generally had a reason when he did such things.
            Greg sat up a little higher in his chair, now that the attention was turned to him. “Yea, well water can have all of those elements in it and his clothes were wet.” Greg looked around the table.
            “Well, no pun intended,” Hodges began with a smirk “that would explain the diatomite. Most water has diatoms in it but it is a little more difficult to form diatomite. The water would have to be sitting for awhile.”
            Catherine waved her hand in the air and shook her head. “Okay, for those that are working on a double…diatomite?”
            Hodges had away of looking contrite while maintaining a smug disposition. “Diatomaceous earth, it’s a powdery rock that’s made from diatom shells.”
            Catherine thought about the information for a moment. It was possible that Grissom was near a well or an aquifer of some kind but where was the question. Hopefully since he was found out in the desert it would make their search a lot easier. “What else do you have Hodges?”
            Hodges glanced down at his next report before his gaze bounced back to Catherine. “Grissom’s tox screen was loaded with various pharmaceuticals. Scopalomine, Psilocybin, Tiletamine, Zolazepam-“
            “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!” Warrick raised his hand “Tiletamine and Zolazepam?”
            Hodges looked a little nervous as he glanced back down at the tox report. “Uhhh, yea, Tiletamine, Zolazepam and a very low dose of antibiotics.”
            Catherine looked to Warrick. He obviously had something to add to the discussion. “Warrick?”
            Warrick leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “Doc Robbins sent in a tox screen on Jeanie Etts. He thought it was weird the girl didn’t have any defensive wounds and the ligature marks barely stood out.”
            “That is weird,” Greg interjected “You’d think she’d have defensive wounds all over her body.”
            Warrick raised his brows in a look of agreement. “Well she probably would have if she wasn’t dusted with Telazol, which is a concoction of Tiletamine and Zolazepam” he informed them.
            “The interesting part about Telazol,” Warrick began “is that it is for veterinarian use…like Carfentanil.” Warrick tapped the table in front of him.
            Three sets of brows arched simultaneously at Warrick’s news.
            “It gets more interesting,” Warrick leaned back his chair, preparing to lay out all the information he had gathered since Jeannie Etts autopsy. “The Etts girl wasn’t the first person to cross paths with Doc Robbins this month. Apparently a young lady by the name of Lucy Hook O.D’d a couple of weeks ago on this stuff.”
            “Real-ly?” Catherine elongated the word as she relaxed back into her seat.
            “Mmm, on a hunch I decided to go talk to Sofia’s buddy in Narcotics, DiSilva, and he says that they have recently been flooded with a variety of unique drugs.”
            Catherine tapped the eraser end of the pencil she was holding atop the file laid out before her. “Any clue as to where the drugs are coming from?”
            Warrick waggled his eyebrows. “DiSilva shut down pretty tight when I asked him about that but did tell me they were out of town players.”
            “Out of town?” Greg asked mildly annoyed. “Like Reno?”
            Catherine rotated her chair slightly to look at Greg. “Probably more like Tijuana or farther south,” she informed him.
            Hodges looked at the information in front of him and the photographs of the two dead girls Warrick had slid onto the table.
            “What’s the connection?” Hodges asked pulling one of the photos closer with his index finger. “And why did Grissom have such a variety of drugs in his system?”
            Catherine frowned as she thought about the cocktail of drugs that had been found in Grissom’s system. “It sounds like whoever had Gil was pumping him full of psychedelics, dissociatives and hypnotics,” she told them.
            “You don’t think someone was trying to Manchurian Candidate Grissom, do you?” Greg asked a little unnerved by his own questions possibilities.
            Catherine shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I could be wrong but my guess is torture,” Catherine suspiciously informed them. “Gil was worked over pretty bad and I imagine these drugs only enhanced it all.”
            “Didn’t the CIA or someone experiment with torture and scopalomine?” Greg asked.
            “I don’t think it is anything as black bag as that Greg,” Catherine answered slightly amused by his imagination. “This was sadism, sick and nasty.”
            Anger washed over the men’s face at the table. Now that Grissom was back and alive the emotion that seemed most prevalent among the CSIs was anger bordering on rage towards the abductors. The fact that the perpetrators had not just taken Grissom against his will but they had hurt with total malicious intent only increased their rage. It had been personal before, it was imperative to find the guilty now.
            “Alright,” Catherine began seeing the restless anger on the men’s faces “Greg, get the tox screen and see if and what you can run down. Maybe Sofia can help you on that since she is in pretty tight with the Narco guys. Warrick I need you to grab Nicky and work a vehicular homicide in Seven Hills.”
            The look on both men’s faces told her they weren’t pleased by the assignment. “I know, I know, as soon as you are done processing the scene take a break and check on Grissom and Sara.”
            “Sara?” Greg frowned, worried that something had befallen their team mate.
            Catherine shook her head to quickly alleviate Greg’s concern. “She’s fine.”
            Warrick patted the younger man on the shoulder. “She’s keeping an eye on Grissom for us” he informed Greg before taking the slip of paper Catherine was holding out for him.
            Warrick stood up, passing behind Catherine as he went to leave the room. His hand slid across her upper back from shoulder to shoulder as he left, in a comforting gesture. Grissom was Catherine’s pseudo-brother. They could nit-pick at each other like a pair siblings but were also just as close and just as loyal as any brother or sister could be. Warrick knew that Grissom’s disappearance and subsequent injured return was wearing on Catherine. With his simple gesture he let her know she was not alone.
            “I’ll call you from the hospital,” he told her as he left.
            Catherine smiled at Warrick as he left before eyeing Greg. “When you’re done come find me,” she told the young man who hopped out of his seat and snatched the tox screen from Hodges pile of papers before jogging out the break room door.
            “Hodges, can you match the water source and the diatoms?” Catherine asked rising from her seat. She needed to hunt down Brass and find out what he had been able to dig up on Toby Cray. She also needed to get to Q.D. and see if anything pertinent had come up on Cray’s letters.
            “If you get me the source I can match it,” Hodges let her know.

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

            Mickey Etts was slight of form. His mom had told him when he was fourteen that some guys grew faster than others and Mickey hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet. He had been five foot two inches tall and a hundred and five pounds. Seven years later he’d gained two inches and ten pounds and knew he was never going to be very big. He wished he could bulk up like Donny. Donny wasn’t very tall but he was strong and muscular and it made people take him seriously.
            At the moment Mickey was glad there wasn’t much to him as he tried to make himself smaller and less noticeable. With his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his baggy jeans and his head hung low trying to hide in the bulk of his UNLV Rebels coat, Mickey made his way down the street that led to his grandmother’s house. He had tried getting hold of Jeanie for days with no luck. When he had been able to get away to check on Jeanie he had found cops all over her apartment. It was only after he had talked to a neighbor kid that Mickey Etts realized just how much shit he had gotten into.
            Mickey knew his days were numbered. He knew he would never be as useful as Donny or Scott or even Jake to Markus and his brother. Mickey knew that Markus humored him but didn’t really know why. And know matter how hard Mickey worked at being a tough guy like Donny and Scott, deep down he really wasn’t and Mickey knew that.
            Mickey had already walked by his grandmother’s house once to check and see if the place was being watched. With the confidence only the stupid possess, Mickey decided it was safe to dash up his grandma’s driveway to the back door. Quickly grabbing the door knob Mickey made to make a quick entrance. Turning the knob and throwing a shoulder into the door, had the small man coming to an abrupt halt with a tender shoulder for all his troubles.
            “Wha…?”
            Mickey glanced down the driveway to see two men approaching him. Hoping off the cement step that led to his grandmother’s back step, Mickey contemplated making a run for it. Glancing in the opposite direction he looked at the old privacy fence that his grandma had asked him to paint last summer. He never did though. He never did anything he was supposed to do. He never finished school, never made anything of himself and never protected Jeanie.
            “I should’ve painted the fence,” he told the two detectives as they stood before him, as if by painting the fence would have righted all the wrongs in his life.
            Detective Alex Vartann had briefly thought the kid was going to run and really had hoped he wouldn’t; first because he wasn’t dressed for running and second because it had been a long shift.  It would have been pointless since there was a cruiser sitting on the next block ready to take Etts into custody.
            “Michael Etts,” Vartann reached for the cuffs at his belt. “You are under arrest for parole violation.”
            Mickey’s eyes snapped up to look at Vartann. This wasn’t what he had expected. Maybe they didn’t know about Markus and all the other stuff he hoped fervently.
            Vartann was not in a magnanimous mood, especially since Brass thought this guy might know something about Grissom’s abduction. So, Vartann quickly squashed any hope Mickey had that they were oblivious to his recent activities.
            “And anything else we think of.” Vartann’s look was pointed as he spun Mickey around to place the cuffs on him. As he did so Mickey caught a fleeting look at his grandmother’s poignant face in the kitchen window before the woman turned her back on him and disappeared into her solitude.
            Mickey hung his head as he was walked from the property to the waiting squad car. Mickey was anything but bright but he knew that he was now truly alone in the world. With that knowledge he sighed heavily as his body fell into the backseat, his head and shoulders bent and shook as he began to sob for the loss of the only people that had ever cared for him.

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

            The world had transformed. Everything was shadow and swirling mist with a neon blue glow. There was something in the mist. He could hear its heavy slithering, the vapor swirling as it was drug along. Glowing blue and silver cracks raced from the shadows like lightning making him step back cautiously, one eye on the ground and one eye trained on the shadows. They were there; they were coming for him like they always did.
            He could hear their hiss-talk as they circled, the fog creeping closer and closer. His skin puckered, his hair raised on end, icy shivers scraped across his spine as his breath came in quick huffs. He could feel them, their presence, even if he could not see them. It was in the air thick with terror, sickening in its evil.
            Grissss-sommm!
            The mist was creeping along the ground reaching out to him like a hungry wraith, touching his bare foot with a teasing stroke. Jumping back he realized with a shock that water was covering the ground, just below the insidious vapor.
            Where did the water come from?
            Grissss-sommm, where are yooouuu? Hehehe!
            He hated that laugh, the cackle of glee that always accompanied his pain. His chest felt like it was shrinking, it was hard to breathe. His heart hammered a rapid, unsteady beat that echoed in his ears. Something went by his leg! Slithering by in the rising black waters and thickening mist. He jumped away when he felt something momentarily graze his other leg as his eyes searched the fog desperately. They were there, the demons of his dreams.
            Spinning around and around, he looked for safety. He needed to get out of the water, the mist. A yellow glow to his right caught his attention and he ran, his heart racing along with him. No matter how hard he pumped his legs he couldn’t seem to get to the yellow glow quicken enough, the heavy mist pulling on him not wanting him to go.
            There was a slight rise that led out of the water and mist, transforming into green pasture dotted by poppy flowers. It was beautiful and bright and he doubled his efforts to reach its safety.
            Grisss-sommm!
            They were close but he was closer. He ran up the embankment, tumbling into the tall sweet smelling grass. Sitting up he looked in the direction he had come. The mist was held at bay, angrily twisting just beyond the light. He smiled holding his face up to warm rays of the sun.
            Something sparkled in the distance catching his attention and standing he went to investigate. There was a dark haired woman in a white dress, her back was to him but he knew it was Sara. His smile widening he picked up his pace, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in his arms. Sara turned to him and waved, a field camera hung around her neck the lens catching the sun’s rays momentarily blinding him. Throwing his arm up to shield his eyes, Grissom slowed his pace until the reflective light disappeared.
            Where did she go? He wondered, having lost sight of her.
            On top of a gentle slope of poppies Sara waved for him. Her brilliant smile mesmerizing him as he soundlessly laughed and followed her. She was taking pictures of something on the ground, the flash off the camera going off repeatedly. He was about to ask her what it was that had turned her into such a shutterbug when he saw it.
            Grissom quickly came to Sara’s side and grabbed her hand pulling her away from the object that had so engrossed her. There in the tall, green grass, sunlight streaming everywhere was a pitch black hole. It was the absence of color and light, a void. Turning startled blue eyes behind him he could see the shadows and mist and followed him.
            Sara! He looked to her, she was smiling unaware of the approaching evil. What had he done? He had led them to her! He had to get her away quickly but where?
            The muted sound of twisting, grinding metal startled him. Turning he watched as blood began to bubble from the black hole in the ground. It was like watching a cauldron boil as slowly something rose from the dark red, viscous liquid. Covered in a thick sheen of blood rose a hooded figure, its robes dripping red its arms folded, its eyes closed. Grissom grabbed Sara’s hand and pulled her away from the rising demon.
            Gris? She asked the smile never leaving her face.
            It was Phobetor! He tried to warn her. Why did she not see the danger?
            Phobetor opened his eyes and laughed at him, a shrieking sound that pierced his ears. He could hear the hiss-talk gaining volume and knew the others were near. Backing away from the shrieking Phobetor, Grissom pulled Sara up the grassy hill the mist and shadows following.
            Sara, he had to get Sara to safety. His frantic gaze searched their surroundings.
            Grissss-sommm, you ssssent for me ssso give in to me.
            Looking into the twisting vapors he could make out the swirl of black cloaks before they disappeared back into the shadows.
            I didn’t send for you, he screamed continuing to pull Sara up the hill and away from the darkness.
            Yesss, you did, the voice hissed at him.
            How could he have sent for him? He had tried everything in his power to avoid them all, everything!
            A dark cloaked figure stepped out of the mist and marched straight for him and Sara. He was monstrous in size dwarfing Grissom as if he were a child. His dark gray skin almost glistened, while his eyes were piercing black orbs. On the side of his head were two large spiraled horns like a rams.
            Grissom’s eyes grew wide as Phantasos charged up the hill at them, roaring angrily. Pushing Sara ahead of him, Grissom tried to keep himself between her and the racing abomination closing in on them. She did not seem to understand the urgency of the matter, which confused Grissom.
            Sara, please, he begged trying to move her along faster while keeping a worried eye behind them. Grissom gave up pushing Sara, grabbing her hand he began to run as fast as he could, pulling her with him.
            The brilliant colors of the field and hill, the bright rays of the yellow sun were slowly dying. Fear roiled in his belly as his lungs fought for air. He was choking on his terror, knowing he could not save her.
            Mr. Grissom?
            Grissom turned to the voice at his side. Instead of Sara’s hand he held Kimmy’s! Spinning in a full circle, Grissom tried to spy Sara. Where had she gone? He had held her hand the whole time!
            SARA!
            Hissing laughter was his only reply.
            SARAAAA! He screamed more loudly his fear seeping into his voice.
            He couldn’t see her anywhere. Did they have her? Grissom almost gagged on the choking panic that was quickly consuming him.
            SARRRAAAA!
            Will you take me with you? Kimmy asked at his side.
            Yes, yes of course, I told you I would, he informed the girl distractedly.
            The shadows pulsed forward and back. With each surge the darkness gained more ground. The suns rays had melted into a pale yellow haze as Grissom pushed Kimmy up and away from the slithering mist. He prayed that Sara had made it to the top of the hill.
            SARA! He screamed in desperation.
            Sara is gone!
            Grissom turned to Kimmy. Yanking his hand from her grip in horror, Grissom backed away from her. Her torso was shredded open. Blood poured from the gaping wound, drenching the girl’s lower body. He stared at her in confusion and horror. There was too much blood.
            Kimmy began to cry and Grissom did not know what to do. There was too much blood, her wound mortal in nature.
            Kimmy…he didn’t know what to say to her to comfort her.
            Her crying transformed into an evil laugh as her body twisted and gyrated, blurring with the speed until Kimmy gave way to Morpheus. Red flames danced upon his head as he spun and viciously backhanded Grissom through the air.
            Grissom quickly rose and shook the effects of the heavy blow from his mind. Whirling around he could see that darkness had descended on his world again and with it came the heavy despair of hope’s departure. He had failed; he had fallen into Hypnos’ kingdom and would suffer mightily for it.
            He had fallen asleep, and like any great hunter Hypnos and his sons had hunted him in this nightmare world. Phobetor and his nightmarish blood demon, Phantasos with his fantastical horned creature and Morpheus the trickster taking on the form of Sara and Kimmy. There had never been a safe place, there was no where to run or hide. This was their realm that Grissom had accidentally traveled.
            Grissss-ommm…
             Hypnos slithered forward from the mist his silver-blue eyes glowing in the shadows. His face partially shrouded in the hood of his cloak.
            All the willpower in the world couldn’t help Grissom from involuntarily taking a step back as the serpent like Hypnos rose before him.
            Did you think you could get away from meee? Hypnos asked his head swaying and bobbing like a cobra’s.
            Grissom did not answer, his attention was slowly being split between Hypnos and the approaching gladiator. The man was as large as Phantasos, his silver armor glinting in the darkness, mirrored the dead faces of his many victims. Their mouth hung open in a perpetual scream of fear, their eyes closed in agony. This was Thanatos and he brought with him death most horrifying.
            Before Grissom could run Thanatos grabbed his wrists and held him in place. His evil grin lowered the temperature of the world as black snakes circled and coiled along his arms, slowly twisting up Grissom’s forearms. He pulled desperately against the grasp that contained him. His eyes darting from the snakes to the moaning faces twisting in agony on Thanatos’ breastplate.
            Thanatos cackled at his fruitless efforts, finally yanking the man off his feet and crashing into the macabre armor.
            Let’s see how well that tongue of yours works after my pet is done with you. Thanatos hissed as he motioned for his brother to come forward.
            Approaching Grissom, Hypnos carried a black, gleaming snake. It coiled and undulated slowly around Hypnos’ arm. The closer Hypnos got with the deadly looking reptile the more Grissom bucked and fought Thanatos’ grip.
            Grissom felt several set of hands grab hold of him as he was brought to his knees. His head was yanked back and his jaw forcibly opened as the demons of his nightmares fed the black serpent down his throat. Grissom gagged and fought to pull the sinister creature from his gullet. It was borrowing into his chest and suffocating he had to get it out!

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            Warrick and Nick had processed the scene of the vehicular homicide thoroughly before dropping of their evidence at the lab. They would file their reports in the morning or when they started their next shift. To the two men there were more pressing matters and all of them involved their friend and supervisor. Stepping off on the floor, Warrick headed to the nurses station to inquire if there was any change in Grissom’s condition.
            “No, not yet,” the nurse had told him. Her tone told him not to give up hope.
            Grissom’s room was two doors down from the nurse’s station. To the left of the door was a five foot wide glass wall. Should the hospital staff want to keep a closer eye on a patient, while maintaining some privacy they could pull back the floor length curtain and expose the room to the hallway. The tan colored curtain was closed but the door was partially ajar. Gently rapping on the door the two men quietly walked in.
            Sometime in the night Sara had woke up and picked at the food that Nick had left her but had now abandoned for the large Styrofoam cup of coffee she was nursing at the window. The steam of the coffee fogged the windows as Sara turned to see them. She gave them a tired smile as the two men came and gave her a much needed hug.
            “How’s he doing?” Nick asked grabbing one of the chairs in the room and making himself comfortable.
             Sara tried to smile but it did not reach her sad, dark eyes. “He’s the same. A nurse checked on him a couple of hours ago,” she informed them taking a seat at the bottom corner of Grissom’s bed.
            “Has the doctor been in to see him?” Warrick asked taking the spare chair and stretching out his long legs.
            Sara’s head spun quickly to look at Grissom. For the briefest of moments she thought she felt a movement from him. “Umm…no, not since eleven o’clock last night,” she answered turning back to Warrick and Nick
            Warrick smiled at her, his brows slightly furrowed. “You okay?” he asked a little concerned by her jumpiness.
            Nick looked pointedly at her. How much sleep had she gotten in the night, he wondered.
            Sara stretched and yawned as if answering Nick’s unspoken question. “Chair wasn’t very conducive to sleep,” she explained pointing to the piece of furniture in question.
            Nick leaned further back in the chair as if to test her estimation of the chair. Although comfortable for hospital standards he would have to agree with Sara that it probably wasn’t the most advantageous place to get some sleep.
            Warrick shook his head at Nick and was about to comment on the other man’s examination of the chair when Sara erupted from the corner of the bed, spinning to watch in alarm, Grissom thrashing on the bed.
            “DAMN,” Nick exclaimed rushing toward the right hand side of the bed. Reaching out he tried to grab one of Grissom’s arms in an attempt to stop the man from pulling the ventilator tube from his throat as he bucked wildly on the bed.
            “WATCH OUT!” Warrick shouted at Sara pushing her aside to get a hold of Grissom’s other arm. His thrashing had torn the I.V. from the back of his hand causing blood to splatter about as his hands flailed angrily in the air.
            Sara yanked on the emergency call light above his bed. She could see his eyes were still closed his face pinched in agony as he made gagging noises.
            “It’s choking him!” she yelled in alarm, her fear making her voice sound higher pitched.
            Two nurses ran into the room and quickly swung into action. The older of the two nurses slipped in between the hospital monitoring equipment and Nick, while the other pushed her way passed Sara at the head of the bed.
            “Hold his head,” the older nurse said firmly as she made to remove the tube.
            Firmly grabbing Grissom’s head in her two hands, they all watched as the senior nurse slowly slipped the tube from his throat. Grissom made a gurgling sound before he clenched his teeth together with a half growl, half groan his back arching of the bed as his arms were held firmly down. He bucked, twisted and fought like a man possessed.
            While the senior nurse tried to help control Grissom the younger one was sent for the doctor. Sara decided to mimic the nurse and essentially laid partially across Grissom’s shins in attempt to cease his kicking as Warrick and Nick fought to control his arms.
            “Damn, he’s strong,” Nick muttered nearly losing his battle in keeping Grissom’s bloody hand pinned down to the bed.
            “Okay,” a young dark haired doctor said as he quickly approached the bed, a syringe in his hand. With skilled precision the doctor administered the drug before he assisted in controlling the thrashing man.
            Within minutes Grissom’s frenzied movements turned to slow lethargic ones before stopping altogether. With his patient calmly sedated the doctor went about examining him while Sara, Warrick and Nick were ushered into the hall by the young, blonde nurse. Standing shell shocked in the hall they all stared at the closed door to Grissom’s room.
            Nick ran his hands back and forth over the short stubble of hair on his head. “Whoa,” he muttered not able to string anything more coherent together. He knew about nightmares. He had had a few doozys after his run in with Walter Gordon but that, he thought of Grissom’s tortured face pinched in agony as he fought them, was more then a nightmare.
            Sara’s shock was slowly wearing off so that now she was desperately fighting the urge to weep. Warrick sensing this pulled her into his arms and let her quietly cry into his shoulder. She made no sounds but he could feel the tiny shudders and knew she was silently sobbing. Warrick stroked her back softly, had it been under any other circumstances he might have been alarmed to have a weeping Sara Sidle in his arms. But these were unusual times filled with tension, fear and worry. Warrick was just surprised they weren’t all bawling.
            The click of the doorknob had Sara abandoning the warm security of Warrick’s shoulder as she spun to see the nurses and doctor exit the room. The doctor was Nick’s height and slender with dark hair and eyes. He had the look of someone from the South Pacific, handsome but very unique looking.
            “How is he?” Sara blurted out bypassing any chance the doctor had at introductions or pleasantries.
            “He’s fine,” the doctor smiled reassuringly. “He was suffering from a night terror so I gave him a dose of Haldol to calm him down, so that he could rest properly.
            “Haldol?” Warrick asked curious as to why the doctor had administered an antipsychotic.
            The doctor slipped a pair of thin wire rimmed glasses onto his face. “Yes, he’ll be out for an hour or two easily but we will continue to monitor him for any more episodes.”
            “Thanks Doc,” Nick said holding out his hand. With a shake and a nod the doctor left the three to venture back into Grissom’s room.
            Sara returned to the foot of the bed, her hand resting lightly on the pale wood veneer of the footboard. She stared long and hard at him, as if by doing so she could see into his mind. What demons lay there, she wondered. Sara could sense the undercurrent of fear that pulled at her fragile state of being. She knew if she allowed it it would surely suck her under but she couldn’t allow that. She had to be strong for Grissom.
            “Hey, Sara…Warrick and me have to head back to the lab,” Nick wished she would go home and get some sleep, but knew she would not leave Grissom, at least not alone. “Catherine is coming by after she drops Lindsey off at school…maybe when she gets here you should go home and get some rest.”
            Warrick nodded his head slowly in agreement. “Yea girl, you need to sleep in a bed for a few hours,” he said reaching out to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
            Sara placed her hand over Warrick’s, giving it a gentle rub she turned to the two men. The look of concern was obvious on both their faces and Sara could only smile wanly at them. “Alright, when Catherine gets here, home it is.”
            Both men smiled obviously relieved that she was being rational about their request. “Good,” Nick hummed before he patted her on the shoulder and made his way to leave the room, Warrick grinning at his friend and following.
            “Call if anything changes,” Warrick told her as he paused on the doorframe before leaving.
            Sara nodded giving him another tired smile before turning her attention back to Grissom. Pulling the well used chair from the previous evening Sara settled in for a few more hours of watching over Grissom.
            Taking his hand in hers she whispered, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere…you rest. Dream of that vacation we keep talking about.”
            Sara leaned back in the chair, never letting go of his hand. She would leave when Catherine got here but she wouldn’t be gone long. Just long enough to grab a shower, a few hours of sleep and some fresh clothes. She’d be back in plenty of time to spend a few hours with him before the start of her shift tonight. Kissing his hand, Sara leaned her head back and rested it on the back of the chair as her eyes slowly drifted asleep.