Title: Binding Ties
Disclaimer: Don't own a thing...not even the computer...it's my dads...not mine...and as for the characters...yeah...I WISH I owned them...
Author Note: As promised...here's the first look at what's to come from me! Hope you enjoy. This is gonna be my first go at an action piece...so we'll see how it goes! As usual...reviews are always appreciated...and especially valued in that this is the first of my action writing...let me know how it goes! Gracias!
The air was heavy with moisture. The sky threatened to unleash it's fury as thunder rumbled in the distance. The eastern sky was beginning to lighten, the first hint of dawn peaking over the horizon. The blue-gray color promised to bring the threatening rain. Rain was not welcome here. Grissom scowled at the ominous sky.
Things had rapidly gotten out of hand. He wasn't sure where things had gone wrong, he just knew they had. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to end this way.
"I don't care what you have to do," Catherine was practically yelling into her cell phone, "you find them and bring them back." The fire in her eye matched the intensity of the fire in the sky as lightning cracked open the heavens. She quickly flipped her phone closed and jammed it into the pocket of her parka. "They're working on it," she shook her head emphatically as she rejoined Grissom on the scene.
"Grissom, what do you think happened here?" Sara asked standing from her crouched position. She surveyed the chaotic scene brushing a strand of her brown hair from her face. He eyes gave away the emotions she tried so hard to bury beneath the surface. She'd never been very good at that.
It had once been a quiet scene. It had once been a scene of unity, peace, and hope. It had once been a place where kids could play, where families could come together in community, in support. It had once been a place where people could feel save, where kids could live without fear.
That had all changed.
It was still quiet, but now it was an empty place, a place full of ghosts. Children's laughter echoed throughout the halls of the now deserted community center, haunting the unoccupied building. Hollow footsteps echoed down the corridors. Gang graffiti tagged the exterior of the concrete form. The story of territory wars throughout the past five years evident from the multi layers of paint tags. Now the Buena Vista Springs Community Center was a scene of anger, aggression, hostility, and death.
"I don't know," Grissom shook his head, his hands buried deep in his navy blue parka. He tried hard to make sense of the scene, of the chaos before his eyes.
The evidence was elusive. While battling to make sense of the concrete, of the tangible, the abstract battled for control. His emotions battled to overcome; they battled for some sense of normalcy. Anger threatened to cloud his own objectivity, to take over his very being.
He could almost picture the scene unfolding.
Nick and Warrick respond to the homicide in the North Las Vegas community. A ground war erupts, gangs duking it out. His guys are caught in the middle, with nowhere to go. Then…
"We're almost done here," Greg said joining Sara near the rusty swing set. "What have you got?"
"I've got a bullet," she responded taking in the details of the tiny hunk of metal in her forceps.
"Looks like a 22 caliber," Greg said opening a bindle and holding it out for the bullet to be dropped into for evidence. "I'll get it to Bobby. I found some tire tread in the parking lot. I'll run them through the database," the young CSI said standing to gather his field kit. Had it only been months since the man that stood before her had seemed to much a kid. When had he grown up, become so mature? When had he changed?
Grissom rarely let his emotions show. But the look in his eyes even gave Catherine the willies. She knew he was worried; hell she was scared out of her wits. The stroke of luck the team had been dealt the past several months had been nothing but bad. And now their luck seemed to have just gotten worse.
The scene was nothing but chaos. So many potential pieces of evidence to be gathered threatened the long arduous process of sorting through them, deciding what was probative and what was not. It would take time, time Grissom knew they didn't have. He couldn't make heads or tails of what was before his eyes, and it scared the hell out of him.
He wasn't sure where he was. The darkness was overwhelming, the continuous droning of….what the hell was that?
Lying on his side, Warrick let out a low groan as his mind slowly began to make sense of his surroundings. He slowly opened his eyes, now aware that his hands were bound behind his back, he was in the back of a van and they were moving.
White hot pain shot through his left shoulder as he attempted to adjust his position. Memories quickly erupted shooting him back to the fire fight in which he and his partner had been caught just hours…minutes?... ago. His partner…Nick!
Where was Nick?
Working his body into a semi-upright position his eyes fell upon Nick's limp body. The echoes of gunfire ripped through his memory as the sight of his partner falling to the ground clouded his vision.
"Nick, man," he said inching closer to the man whose hands were also bound. "Nick, bro…wake up," he continued giving his friend a nudge.
Slowly the man started coming to.
"Hey man, come on," Warrick said doing his best to keep his voice low yet audible enough to reach over the rumble of the van's engine.
Nick moaned as he slowly awoke, doing his best to adjust his own uncomfortable position. He grimaced in pain as the movement ripped at his injuries.
Warrick's eyes never left his friend, his partner, as the man realized their situation. He didn't look good. The concern he felt, the worry, was overwhelming. He'd felt these feelings before, the feelings of fear, fear for his friends life. It didn't mean he was used to it, or liked it any better.
Their situation, weighing heavily on his shoulders, looked even worse as he felt the van slow in speed.
"Where are we?" Nick asked weakly, obviously masking his discomfort.
"I don't know, man," Warrick said trying to listen for anything that may give him a clue. There were no windows in the vehicle. There were no visible lights. There were no signs, no possible clues, as to their location.
Nick kept his eyes closed, willing the darkness, the blissful darkness, to take him again. He rested his head on the van wall. The constant jarring, jostling, of the moving van was wreaking havoc on his already brutalized body.
"Hey, man, you've got to stay awake," Warrick said nudging the man beside him. "Stay with me, bro." He regretted getting his friend into this situation. If he hadn't insisted on returning to the crime scene they wouldn't be here. Wherever here was. It seemed that they had just gotten out of their last skirmish only to fall seemingly headfirst into this one. They were no strangers to trouble, it was true. It didn't mean they were any more used to it, though, or better capable of getting themselves out.
"Yeah," Nick nodded groggily. "Yeah…I'm with you. You…you know we're in trouble right?" he asked eyeing his friend.
"Yeah, man. I know. We're in a hell of a lot of trouble," Warrick nodded leaning his own head against the vehicle wall.
"You look like hell, you know that?" Nick asked with a slight glimmer in his eye.
"You're one to talk," Warrick snickered, grimacing again from the pain in his shoulder. He could feel the wound oozing each time he moved. "How you holdin' up?" he asked taking in the man across from him. He'd taken a bullet to his stomach, his orange shirt soaked in blood. The wound on his neck look superficial, hopefully nothing much to worry about.
"I'll be alright," Nick nodded, hoping not only to reassure his friend, but to reassure himself. He was scared. He wasn't a stranger to fear. That fact alone, though, was not enough to stave off the panic of feeling the emotion.
They were in a tight spot, a really tight spot. It was a waiting game now. The next move was up to the men driving the van. They were holding all the cards.
The van slowly came to a stop. The CSIs listened as the men climbed down from the vehicle, closing the van doors. They spoke to each other, their voices muffled, indistinguishable to the men inside. The CSIs braced themselves as the back doors were opened. Light flooded the back of the van, casting their captors in shadow.
Their time was running out. They only hoped Grissom would find them before it ran out completely.