Touch My Heart Part I The Club Non-con BSDM, torture
Part I - The Club
"Doesn't it seem like we were just in a club with a shooting?" Brass shook his head, moving behind Nick and Grissom as they walked into yet another dance club, now silent since over twenty gunshots had cleared the room hours before. One badly injured man, now in surgery, plus at least five minor injuries. They had to find the casings and any other trace evidence left behind by over 200 customers. Yet another round of overtime for the two men, Nick already tired after three days of it. He had only had four hours sleep and was ready to drop. Grissom didn't look much better, his age showing for the first time since Nick had known him. They both needed sleep. And soon. Nick shrugged, giving Grissom a small smile when the older man looked at him quizzically. "Just tired." Gris nodded, putting a hand up to rub Nick's shoulder.
Nick put down evidence markers by the discarded casings, counting off until he hit 23, then started collecting, marking the bindles, dropping them into his case. The men worked in silence, comfortable with each other after three years, words not meaning much when they were tuned into the evidence. Brass moved around, looking for anything the first sweep might have missed. He too was silent, knowing the concentration needed to do this job properly.
Nick stood suddenly, startling Grissom. Brown eyes scanned the overhead ceiling, brows crinkled. Grissom came to stand by him, straining to see what had caught Nick's complete attention.
"What is it Nicky? Hear something? It's a suspended ceiling, with the air conditioning running through it. It might be cooling off."
Nick shook his head, moving underneath the ceiling a little, head cocked to pick up the faint noise he thought he had heard seconds ago. A light movement, a soft sigh, something had caught his subconscious attention. He shook his head, a wry grimace on his handsome face.
"Overhead ceilings still give me the wiggins. I can't help it, Gris, they just do." Nick shuddered, Grissom moving over to him again, putting a warm hand on the shaking shoulder. Nick leaned on him, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself.
"Easy, Nicky. I'm right here. Crane is in jail. I won't let him come near you again. I promise. Trust me to take care of you, honey." The endearment slipped out, Gil never even noticing, his heart talking for once, not his head. Nick slipped an arm around his waist, head resting on the solid shoulder. How he loved this man, his boss, yeah, but also his friend. At least he hoped so. He could never tell with Grissom. He would rip you a new one somedays, then act like this on others. The "honey" warmed his heart, knowing the other man didn't even realize he had said it aloud. One last hug and he pulled away gently.
"Thanks, I needed that, you don't know how much. Some days it still gets under my skin. You help." He wiped a stray tear from his cheek, sniffing a little. Grissom smiled gently, his blue eyes damp with emotion. He bent back to the floor, collecting evidence once more, giving them time to settle down.
Nick slid his case over to the table, picking up the bindle once more, sliding the bullet casing inside. They littered the floor, markers a hodgepodge of yellow covering the dance floor. He sighed, back already aching from bending over so long. He arched in surprise when a warm drop of liquid hit his neck and slid down to trickle onto his sweater.
"Shit, Gil, it's blood! I just got dripped on with blood!" Nick moved back, hand going to his sidearm, Grissom moving quickly toward him, reaching for his own. Their eyes scanned the ceiling, looking for the source of the blood. Another fell from a corner of a panel, splashing on the floor, then another.
"Someone's up there." Nick pulled a chair over, hand reaching for the panel until he felt Grissom's hand on his ankle.
"Be careful. Let me get an officer. We don't know who it is. It might be an accomplice of the shooters. Brass, I need an officer in here, NOW!" Grissom's strident tones brought Brass over to them and two cops running into the room, weapons drawn, stopping when Grissom held up a hand, pointing to the ceiling and the blood drops on the floor. Nick's sweater had a drizzle of blood drying, his neck smeared where he had swiped at it after the first drop hit him.
Nick tried pushing on the panel, feeling a weight against it, then recoiled when he heard a low moan of pain coming from near his head. "There's someone up here. He just moaned." He moved the chair back, the younger cop moving to brace him and he stretched his full height to slide the next panel off its rack.
"Boost me up, man." The cop braced himself, hands carefully giving Nick a lift up, steadying him as he pulled himself into the ceiling. They all moved underneath, seeing the flash of Nick's light shining dimly as he swept the fake ceiling area.
"Oh, shit! There's a guy up here, Gris, he's hurt bad. I'm going to slide him down to you. Be careful!" They all recoiled slightly as bloody bare legs came into view, bound at the ankles, feet white from blood loss. The blood drenched back came into view next, whip marks oozing, trying to scab, but movement ripping them open even more. "Get a sheet or a blanket. We can't lay him down on the floor like this." Nick's voice echoed from overhead, Brass moving to pull off a clean tablecloth from one of the rear tables, shattering glassware, crunching through it to get under the slender body that was being cradled in the two cop's hands. Roy Chandler and Taylor Novak, his brain supplied. Two of his rookies. What a way to break them in.
Grissom grabbed the shoulders as Nick's hands appeared, gloved streaked with blood. Novak let Grissom take over the body, his own arms reaching up for Nick, letting the CSI slide into them, steadying him as he got his balance. A quick squeeze thanked him, a glance letting him know his help was appreciated. Novak knew he wasn't alone in his hero crush of CSI's or of Nick himself. One last touch and he moved to help in any way he could. Brass shook his head as he watched the two men. Another man smitten with their Nicky. He sighed then turned to the body, now laying on the white tablecloth, jolting back a little as he got his first look at him.
"He's just a boy!" They all stared down, Grissom kneeling first, brushing blond hair away from the battered face. Brass got on his radio, calling for an ambulance once more, then knelt by Grissom. "Just a boy."
Nick slid to his knees, hands shaking as he brought his case over to his side. "We have a living, breathing scene of the crime right here, gentlemen. I'll start processing him while we wait for the bus. Gris, check him for me, while I get my stuff out, okay?" Ripping off his old gloves, Nick quickly pulled on a fresh pair, Novak pulling over a low table, laying out bindles and plastic bags as Nick pulled them out, his own hands now encased in gloves Nick had handed him. Novak hadn't gotten any blood on him, but Nick knew no one could risk anything with the amount their vic was putting out. He looked up sharply as Brass's exclamation rang out, looking for the first time at the body lying in front of them.
A young man, no more than 20 from the looks of him. Face bloody and battered, eyes swollen, lips cut and torn. A ballgag, leather straps bucked behind the head, strained the jaw, blood trickling out from the ripped corners. Cuts and slashes covered the torso, arms, and groin area. He blanched as he saw the sex encased in a jagged metal cage of sorts, blood smearing it as the ragged edges cut into it with every movement. A line of metal links led from it, binding the balls, then leading underneath, back to the bloodied buttocks. His hands were bound, also white and stiff, like his feet. Gris moved to cut the binding, Nick's hand stopping him.
"Not like that. Let me get a grip first. If you cut without any pressure, the blood will rush in and cause so much pain, he'll wish his hands were cut off. Let me hold them and ease off slowly." Strong fingers encircled the slender wrists, then a quick nod, Grissom slicing through the leather thong, stiff with blood and sweat. He moved to the feet, Chandler copying Nick's actions. A quick hiss from the victim, legs moving and back arching, quickly subsiding as the pain traveled through him, moans coming from behind the gag.
"Hold still, man. Let your hands and feet get used to it. Then we'll do your mouth, okay? Nod for me, please." The pleading tone of Nick's voice cut through them all, knowing that the young man at their feet was in so much pain and they could do nothing to relieve it. Brass stood, moving aside as he checked on the status of the ambulance, his voice raising as he demanded it to 'move faster', a look of disgust on his face as he walked back over to them.
'Another fifteen minutes, it's stuck in traffic about six blocks away." He knelt once more, reaching for a napkin and a bottle of water sitting on the nearby table. He soaked the cloth, handing it to Grissom, watching as he wiped the battered face, cleaning off the caked blood and saliva. Nick had gone back to collecting hairs and fibers from the blond head lying by his legs, Novak labeling them as he finished.
"I'll have to go back up there and see what's there. Try to see how he got up there, if he was put there for later or if someone wanted him to just die. Gris, let's try to get the ballgag out now, see if he can talk a little. It's been three hours since the shooting, he has to be thirsty." He bent over the body, seeing the eyes trying to open, green shining through the lids, focus off but straining. "Hey, I'm Nick. This is Grissom, Captain Brass, Officers Novak and Chandler. We're here to help you. I'm going to take out the gag now, don't try to close your jaws right away." He waited until the eyes blinked twice, a slight nod giving him acknowledgement of the instruction. Working his fingers under the injured head, he unbuckled the strap, nodding to Grissom, his boss sliding out the spit-soaked ball, dropping it into an evidence baggie Novak held out. Gris watched as the young officer labeled it, then set it on the table by them. Good man. Might be a candidate for CSI someday. He caught Brass's look, then grinned wryly.
"Hey, can't help myself. Always looking for intelligent men for my crew. I'll ask you first, Jim, before I steal him away from you." A groan caught their attention once more as Nick carefully massaged the strained jaws, slowly easing them shut, thumbs pressing against the stiff joints, fingers easing the tension until he heard teeth click against each other.
"Thank you," hissed out, hand reaching up to graze Nick's jaw lightly, then clenching as another wave of pain coursed through the ravaged body.
"I have to roll you over, check your back. The ambulance is almost here but I want you to be ready to go, without all this stuff on you, first. Okay?" A slight nod, then a grimace as hands rolled him over, Chandler moaning in sympathy as the ripped-apart back was revealed. The waist-length blond hair was gently pulled away from the bloody back. At least forty lash marks, some deeper than others, covered the slender back, the buttocks red and welted with broad marks, not unlike a strap or heavy belt. Nick gently separated the cheeks, fingers tracing the links from the ballcage, finding what he had feared. A buttplug, deeply embedded in the injured ass, trickles of semen oozing out from around it. Someone had fucked this kid, then plugged him, putting pressure on all his inside organs. He had played around with this same sort of stuff in Texas, but it was consensual and pleasurable. He and his partner got off on it, and it was never meant to harm, just arouse. He shook his head, feeling Grissom's hand on his shoulder. "What is it Nick?"
"This was not just a sex game gone too far. This isn't for pleasure, this was torture. Not bondage, not S&M, just torture, plain and simple. Some sick fuck's idea of fun. I have to get this out of him, relieve the pressure before it does damage to his guts. Who knows how much semen and fluid is up inside of him. Novak, you got your tool on you?" Novak nodded, handing Nick his zip-tie snips, watching as Nick cut through the thin metal links first, then handing it to Grissom, waiting until he had moved to the cockcage, snipping away the locking mechanism and freeing the damaged sex. Slowly Nick pulled out the plug, watching as the outer ring expanded with each bulge of plastic passing through it. Six balls, the appliance hard and unforgiving as it was slowly withdrawn, giving pain at its passage out even as it had when it was inserted. Nick shivered in remembrance, having had the same device inside himself so many years ago. It had taken over 45 minutes to insert it, his balls aching with dry orgasms before it was done. The difference between sex play with a willing partner and this torture was like the world reversing itself
He grabbed the soft cloth Chandler handed to him, grateful to see the officer had wet it down with cool water from a wine cooler on one of the nearby tables. He wiped off the flow of liquid relieved to see that there was minimal tearing, the outer ring red and swollen, but capable of healing on its own in a few days. There was no continued bleeding after the first flow of fluid.
"You're going to be fine, little one. Looks like no internal damage, a scan will tell better. I'm going to wipe off your back, okay?" Nick glanced over at Brass, seeing the look in his eyes, the bitterness that a fellow human being had done this to a kid. Chandler held out another large evidence bag, Grissom dropping the plug into it, shaking his head at its size and shape. His own hole clenched in sympathy pains as he watched Chandler lay it on the table, next to the gag. The bloody cockcage was next, Novak using tongs to handle it, careful of the sharp edges ringing it.
Nick soaked the napkin, laying it over the worst of the slashes, letting the cool water do its work on the abused flesh. Brass grabbed the cooler, walking to the sink behind the bar and filled it with warm water. He had noticed the shivering, the cool water too cold on bare skin. Bringing it back, Nick nodded in gratitude, replacing the cold cloth with another one, Brass taking the soiled one and tossing it in a pile of debris that had fallen off a nearby table in the mad rush during the shooting. They all looked up as the sound of sirens could be heard outside. Novak slid the table holding the bindles and evidence bags back against the wall, making room for the stretcher he knew would be coming to take their victim.
Grissom took a swollen hand, relieved to feel warmth running through it, pulse strong. "They're here to take you to the hospital. No one can hurt you there, you'll be safe. I'm going to send, with Captain Brass's permission, one of these officers along with you, to stay outside while you're being checked, and then to guard your room after. Jim, who can you spare?" Grissom looked at Brass, then up at the two policemen, surprised when they both nodded. "We'll both go. One to stand guard and one to take a statement when he's ready. We don't mind if the Captain doesn't. We'll call when we get some news."
The ambulance crew entered, pushing a gurney ahead of them, one of them moving to kneel at the boy's side. "Good God, what happened to him? I thought this was just a shooting. We already took that vic to the ER and he's doing fine so far in surgery. Where did this one come from?" She looked up at Brass and Nick, a look of confusion on her face when they pointed to the empty space above their heads. Grissom finally answered.
"He was in the ceiling hiding. Someone either hid him up there or he crawled up there to get away from more torture. Just take good care of him. We'll be by later and these two officers are going to accompany him on the trip and stay with him after." She nodded and began taking vitals, careful of the cuts and bruises on his arms and body. An IV went in next, saline solution rehydrating his body, replacing some of the fluids that had sweated out of him. Blood would come in the ER, and more tests. This would have to do for now. Her crew slid him on the gurney, covering him with their sheets and wrapping a blanket around his body for warmth.
A pale hand came out to grab Nick's arm, its strength surprising. It was an urgent tug, eyes slitting open to look into dark brown ones, panic evident in the green orbs.
"It's safe. You'll be taken care of. You'll see us later on tomorrow, after we clear the rooms here." The hand tightened, a slight sound coming from the ripped lips.
"Behind the wall...secret rooms...for extra special clients. More like...me...in there. Check...please."
Brass sucked in a harsh breath. More like this one? Behind what wall? He scanned the club.
The hand released Nick, wavering as it pointed to the far corner. "Secret door. Get magnetic key from register. Will release door...hidden... hallway, more rooms. Get boys out." The young man collapsed, seeing the determined looks on the men's faces. His eyes closed, grateful at last that he was safe.
Novak moved to the register while the other men walked to the far corner, Nick's fingers finding a seam in the wall, moving along its length, tracing the doorway. He found a slot in the molding and moved to let Novak slide the card in. A soft whir and the door opened inward, dim light fixtures along the wall, As soon as they entered, the door closed, but they were relieved to see a handle on their side to get back out. They moved down the hallway, all guns drawn, but heard nothing. Brass opened the first door, gasping at the accoutrements hanging on the walls and the cross set up in the middle of the floor. He also noticed a grate that had been taken off the AC duct on the far wall, a trail of blood leading up to it, and into it.
"Looks like this is where our boy started out." Nick moved over to the wall, shining his light up into the shaft.
"Blood on the floor of it. He dragged himself, bound as he was, along the duct and then turned right. I'll see about tracking it later. Let's check on the rest of the rooms. He seemed to think there were more boys back here." They closed the door, Nick putting up a yellow sticker over the seam. Only one of them would be allowed back in there and they would know if anyone else had entered it if the seal was broken.
Novak opened the next two doors, but the rooms were empty. The next room yielded a young brunette, similarly trussed up like their victim. His head lolled against his arms, the chains holding him upright, his toes barely touching the floor. His back had been flogged but no fresh blood flowed, only seepage. Novak and Chandler unhooked his wrists, Brass calling for another ambulance. Novak stayed with the victim, the rest of them moving down the hallway, finding two more young men, both unconscious, both drugged and both beaten and bound. One was tied over a pommel horse, his legs shackled to the floor, a plug in his rectum, long horsehair tail hanging down. A bit and reins completed the picture, the riding crop lying on the floor next to him, covered in blood and bits of skin. Chandler helped Grissom and Nick bag everything, having run back into the other room and getting both their cases. The boys were hurriedly covered with tablecloths pulled from the tables in the club, fetters cut off, devices removed. The copper smell of blood filled the rooms, along with the rank smell of sex and semen.
"I'm going to be grilling the owner. He has to have known what was going on in those back rooms. Why else the keycard in the register? He's looking at some pretty serious charges. The DA will want to get in on this too. Grissom, Nick, I'm going to take off now, that okay with you?" Brass stood by them, not wanting to leave just yet but wanting to find the bastards who did this. It had been over an hour and they were all worn to the bone.
"How could anyone treat people like this? Kids, not even old enough to be in here, let alone be tortured like this." Nick sat slumped on the floor, hands shaking as he closed his case, his body coated with sweat and blood. The ambulance had taken the three boys to the hospital and they had begun processing the rooms, both men finally admitting that they would have to quit and come back later. It was just too much. They would need help on this one. The club alone would have taken up their shift, but these rooms, this torture of boys, would be even bigger. Too much for two men, even if one of them was Grissom. Brass stopped down by Nick, rubbing a soothing hand along his shoulders, pulling him close.
"We'll get them, Nicky, I promise. Those boys have to know something, heard some kind of name, give us a description. There are clubs that we can check and get some names from." He looked up as Grissom stood by them, then dropped to the floor taking Nick's hand in his.
"I'll ask Lady Heather. This is beyond her venue but she might know of some of her clients that were into this kind of stuff. Or someone she banned because they did something like this to one of her workers. I'll call her later on. Nicky, look at me, please." Grissom knew that this would eat at Nick, the man with a heart that cared so much for all the victims, no matter the cost to himself.
Brass nodded once, then left with only a glance back. Nick still sat on the floor, Grissom by his side. The two men he admired most in the world, and they were too blind to see that they were perfect for each other. Nick's love and compassion tempered against Gil's strength and resolve. Two hearts that needed the other half to be complete. His friends.
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Three days. It took three days to completely process the club's backrooms. Three days of utter despair for the team, all of them, even Greg, joining in the collection of evidence. The shooter had turned out to be the vic's jealous wife. Arrested and arraigned, trail date already set. The easy one. Now they had to deal with the utter filth that occupied the space that decent humans should live in. They had over eighty sets of fingerprints to investigate. The back rooms had been busy.
Nick sat slumped on the bench of the locker room, hands pressed hard into his eyes. Grissom debated whether he should go talk to him, his heart tying with his head in the utter confusion. Should he try to comfort him, only to have Nick look at him, wondering where the joke was? Grissom never let his emotions show in a case, Grissom only looked at cold, hard facts, not people. Grissom didn't care. Grissom didn't want his team to get too involved. Fuck involved, Grissom thought to himself, I am involved. Not in the case, but in what affects Nicky. And Nicky was hurting...desperately so. The whole team was being effected, even Greg, their own personal Tigger, was quiet and calm. They were tired, true, but so were their hearts.
"You going to see Philip?" Grissom put a hand out when Nicky started in surprise. Tired, red-rimmed eyes rose to meet his, the face drawn, the usually smiling lips tight with tiredness and pain. They had found out their boy's name was Philip Brunson, only 18, homeless in Las Vegas since the age of 15, when his mother had died in an alley. Shifted around from foster home to foster home, until he aged out of the system and fell through the cracks. Hustling, stealing, sleeping in whatever hole he could find at night, until the nice man offered him a room in exchange for his body. Food, water, cool air, a bed to sleep in...too much for the suffering boy to refuse. He had sold his body before, what was being a whore for someone who was willing to take care of him going to do to his already shattered self-esteem? Nothing.
"After I get washed up and changed. I promised myself I wouldn't go see him that first day until after I had calmed down, but I changed my mind. I wanted to see what those animals had done to him. I just sat there and watched him sleep. So drugged out he didn't even know I was there. Novak came in and sat with me. He's kind of appointed himself as big brother. He has a little brother the same age, just graduating from high school. I think he see what could happen to any kid that age if they're not taken care of and loved. Novak's a good man. He's make a good member of the team, Gris."
Grissom smiled, knowing that the two men had bonded over this case. Taylor Novak, 23 years old, fresh out of the academy, burning to learn but with the same kind heart as Nick. He had been on guard for over 26 hours when Grissom showed up, the officer's eyes red from both loss of sleep and tears. He thought back to Monday, the first day he had gone to the hospital to see the boy. He had seen how Nick and Novak had reacted together, their closeness, their almost instant bonding. He had nodded at both of them, then entered the room to see their first victim.
Green eyes had turned to him, blinking slowly, the drugs still slowing down reaction times. The thin hand reached up and Grissom gently took it, rubbing the thin skin over the delicate bones of the torn wrist.
"I remember you. You were at the club, with the other guys. I've seen you before...somewhere, long time ago. You..." The blond turned his head, tears trickling down his cheeks. Grissom ran his hand up the arm, then took the shaking chin in his hand, cupping it gently.
"I cut away the cage. I tried to be careful. I'm sorry if I hurt you even more." He was amazed when the green eyes turned to him in shock.
"You never hurt me. I was so ashamed that anyone would see me that way. Well, normal people, anyway. I'm used to the others seeing me naked. When you're a whore, it gets old real fast, embarrassment. Real fast. But I've never been treated like they did. I've had rough sex, but this was so different. They wanted me as close to dead as they could get, without the actual killing of me."
"We have a few names. The club owner is sitting in jail, just from having those rooms in the back of his club, let alone what happened to you boys. Now we just need the client's names and we can press charges against them too. If you could remember any names, please let the officer on duty know, okay?" Grissom quickly stood as Philip tried to sit up, arms reaching for and supporting him, getting him settled against the pillows.
"How are the other guys? I heard one of them scream but then the gunshots started and everyone in my room took off. I guess the one guy took pity on me and cut the rope holding me to the cross. I think his name was Ray. He was always good to me, never hitting me too hard and always giving water when I needed it. It wasn't his scene, the torture. He tried to stop it that night, but he was overruled and then threatened. I'd know some of them if you could get some pictures together. I already talked with Brass and he's going to gather up some photos of known hardcore S&Ms but I don't think any of these guys will be there. They're highrollers, rich dudes with a lot of power and lots of money." He squirmed around a little, Grissom again helping him get comfortable.
"The other boys are fine. Jeff Contell got released the first day, scrapes and bruises, and Jimmy Nash got out this morning, three broken ribs and some stitches on his butt. Justin is already home, just banged up a little. Your group seemed to do the worst damage. Can you remember anything else that night...sounds, smells, anything lying around that you could see a name on?"
"I like you. You're quiet and ask questions that I can answer." Philip smiled, taking Grissom's hand in his, fingers laced as he settled back once more. His face was getting better, the swelling already going down. Luckily, nothing was broken, the worst damage being his mouth from the ballgag and his blackened eye. His cheekbone was bruised, not broken. His jaw was still swollen slightly, but its angles were slowly regaining their definition once more. A strong jaw like Nick's, straight nose, and green eyes like the grass after a spring rain. Beautiful. Grissom felt a blush rise in his cheeks and turned his head.
"Hey, don't turn away. I don't mind if you look at me. I'm used to men looking at me. I like you. And Nick, And Tayler. Brass is okay after you get used to his bluntness. He brought me cream chocolates and those flowers over there."
Grissom shook his head. "Forgive an old man an indulgence. I haven't seen anyone so beautiful or so delicate in so long, I can't help but stare. And get angry that anyone marred that beauty...or that grace."
They had sat in silence for over an hour, just exchanging glances, Grissom lightly clasping the thin hand in his much larger one, occasionally brushing his thumb over the slender wrist. He had left when Philip had finally fallen sleep, daring to press a soft kiss on the pale brow.
Now he looked at Nick, seeing the fatigue pouring off the exhausted body, knowing that he would drag himself to the hospital, regardless if he was ready to fall down. Gil knew he had to be harsh, knowing it would hurt, both Nick, and himself. He had asked his plans, knowing his routine these past three days.
"I don't want you going to see Philip. I want you to go home, get some real sleep, and not show your face in this lab until tomorrow at midnight. That's an order, both as your supervisor, and your friend. You're no help to me, this lab, or to the victims whose cases you'll be assigned. Nor to Philip. I'll follow you home, just to make sure you get there, post a guard outside if I have to. I don't want you working or visiting or...anything, got that?" Grissom glared at Nick, receiving one right back. Then the body sagged, a hand reaching out for his. He sank down on the bench, arm going around the slumped shoulders.
"I won't. I'll go home, take a shower, try to eat. I know I'm no good this way. I just want to help those kids. Contell got to go home to his parents. They were worried sick about him after he disappeared. Thank God he was on that missing person's list. Nash is going to his cousin's home on High Street. She'll take care of him until he can go back to class. Justin's going into counseling. All boys without reason to get hurt except they were the right age for those sick bastards to want...to torture. Philip has no one. He's alone. Taylor and I have been visiting him, plus Chandler and Brass show up when they have a few minutes. I like the kid."
"So do I. Say, let me take you out to breakfast. That way I'll at least know you've eaten. I promise I won't follow you home to make sure you get there. I'll go see Philip, take him something to eat that isn't that hospital food! Agree to that?" Grissom raised his eyebrows, waiting for Nick's answer. Nick snorted, laughing softly.
"Yeah, that will do. I could eat something besides vending machine food. Maybe Manny's and his triple bypass breakfast? Philip might like some pancakes or that French toast that Madeline makes. It's the best I've ever eaten except my mother's." He slid on his jacket, smile on his face as he helped pull Grissom up from the bench.
"You've never tasted mine, Nicky my boy, never tasted mine! I have it on good authority that it is the best in Las Vegas - and Catherine's pretty picky!" They both laughed and walked out to the parking lot, Grissom waiting until Nicky got in before he started the Tahoe.
"Buckle up. You're so sleepy you might fall asleep and hit the dash. Lay your head back and doze a little 'til we get there. I'll wake you up, promise." Nick sighed, laying his head back on the headrest, long lashes fluttering shut.
"Am tired. I'll just shut my eyes..." He trailed off, already asleep. Gil took a chance and brushed his fingers over the high cheekbone, a low moan coming from his throat. How he wanted to do that some time when Nick was awake.
tbc in The Hospital
"Doesn't it seem like we were just in a club with a shooting?" Brass shook his head, moving behind Nick and Grissom as they walked into yet another dance club, now silent since over twenty gunshots had cleared the room hours before. One badly injured man, now in surgery, plus at least five minor injuries. They had to find the casings and any other trace evidence left behind by over 200 customers. Yet another round of overtime for the two men, Nick already tired after three days of it. He had only had four hours sleep and was ready to drop. Grissom didn't look much better, his age showing for the first time since Nick had known him. They both needed sleep. And soon. Nick shrugged, giving Grissom a small smile when the older man looked at him quizzically. "Just tired." Gris nodded, putting a hand up to rub Nick's shoulder.
Nick put down evidence markers by the discarded casings, counting off until he hit 23, then started collecting, marking the bindles, dropping them into his case. The men worked in silence, comfortable with each other after three years, words not meaning much when they were tuned into the evidence. Brass moved around, looking for anything the first sweep might have missed. He too was silent, knowing the concentration needed to do this job properly.
Nick stood suddenly, startling Grissom. Brown eyes scanned the overhead ceiling, brows crinkled. Grissom came to stand by him, straining to see what had caught Nick's complete attention.
"What is it Nicky? Hear something? It's a suspended ceiling, with the air conditioning running through it. It might be cooling off."
Nick shook his head, moving underneath the ceiling a little, head cocked to pick up the faint noise he thought he had heard seconds ago. A light movement, a soft sigh, something had caught his subconscious attention. He shook his head, a wry grimace on his handsome face.
"Overhead ceilings still give me the wiggins. I can't help it, Gris, they just do." Nick shuddered, Grissom moving over to him again, putting a warm hand on the shaking shoulder. Nick leaned on him, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself.
"Easy, Nicky. I'm right here. Crane is in jail. I won't let him come near you again. I promise. Trust me to take care of you, honey." The endearment slipped out, Gil never even noticing, his heart talking for once, not his head. Nick slipped an arm around his waist, head resting on the solid shoulder. How he loved this man, his boss, yeah, but also his friend. At least he hoped so. He could never tell with Grissom. He would rip you a new one somedays, then act like this on others. The "honey" warmed his heart, knowing the other man didn't even realize he had said it aloud. One last hug and he pulled away gently.
"Thanks, I needed that, you don't know how much. Some days it still gets under my skin. You help." He wiped a stray tear from his cheek, sniffing a little. Grissom smiled gently, his blue eyes damp with emotion. He bent back to the floor, collecting evidence once more, giving them time to settle down.
Nick slid his case over to the table, picking up the bindle once more, sliding the bullet casing inside. They littered the floor, markers a hodgepodge of yellow covering the dance floor. He sighed, back already aching from bending over so long. He arched in surprise when a warm drop of liquid hit his neck and slid down to trickle onto his sweater.
"Shit, Gil, it's blood! I just got dripped on with blood!" Nick moved back, hand going to his sidearm, Grissom moving quickly toward him, reaching for his own. Their eyes scanned the ceiling, looking for the source of the blood. Another fell from a corner of a panel, splashing on the floor, then another.
"Someone's up there." Nick pulled a chair over, hand reaching for the panel until he felt Grissom's hand on his ankle.
"Be careful. Let me get an officer. We don't know who it is. It might be an accomplice of the shooters. Brass, I need an officer in here, NOW!" Grissom's strident tones brought Brass over to them and two cops running into the room, weapons drawn, stopping when Grissom held up a hand, pointing to the ceiling and the blood drops on the floor. Nick's sweater had a drizzle of blood drying, his neck smeared where he had swiped at it after the first drop hit him.
Nick tried pushing on the panel, feeling a weight against it, then recoiled when he heard a low moan of pain coming from near his head. "There's someone up here. He just moaned." He moved the chair back, the younger cop moving to brace him and he stretched his full height to slide the next panel off its rack.
"Boost me up, man." The cop braced himself, hands carefully giving Nick a lift up, steadying him as he pulled himself into the ceiling. They all moved underneath, seeing the flash of Nick's light shining dimly as he swept the fake ceiling area.
"Oh, shit! There's a guy up here, Gris, he's hurt bad. I'm going to slide him down to you. Be careful!" They all recoiled slightly as bloody bare legs came into view, bound at the ankles, feet white from blood loss. The blood drenched back came into view next, whip marks oozing, trying to scab, but movement ripping them open even more. "Get a sheet or a blanket. We can't lay him down on the floor like this." Nick's voice echoed from overhead, Brass moving to pull off a clean tablecloth from one of the rear tables, shattering glassware, crunching through it to get under the slender body that was being cradled in the two cop's hands. Roy Chandler and Taylor Novak, his brain supplied. Two of his rookies. What a way to break them in.
Grissom grabbed the shoulders as Nick's hands appeared, gloved streaked with blood. Novak let Grissom take over the body, his own arms reaching up for Nick, letting the CSI slide into them, steadying him as he got his balance. A quick squeeze thanked him, a glance letting him know his help was appreciated. Novak knew he wasn't alone in his hero crush of CSI's or of Nick himself. One last touch and he moved to help in any way he could. Brass shook his head as he watched the two men. Another man smitten with their Nicky. He sighed then turned to the body, now laying on the white tablecloth, jolting back a little as he got his first look at him.
"He's just a boy!" They all stared down, Grissom kneeling first, brushing blond hair away from the battered face. Brass got on his radio, calling for an ambulance once more, then knelt by Grissom. "Just a boy."
Nick slid to his knees, hands shaking as he brought his case over to his side. "We have a living, breathing scene of the crime right here, gentlemen. I'll start processing him while we wait for the bus. Gris, check him for me, while I get my stuff out, okay?" Ripping off his old gloves, Nick quickly pulled on a fresh pair, Novak pulling over a low table, laying out bindles and plastic bags as Nick pulled them out, his own hands now encased in gloves Nick had handed him. Novak hadn't gotten any blood on him, but Nick knew no one could risk anything with the amount their vic was putting out. He looked up sharply as Brass's exclamation rang out, looking for the first time at the body lying in front of them.
A young man, no more than 20 from the looks of him. Face bloody and battered, eyes swollen, lips cut and torn. A ballgag, leather straps bucked behind the head, strained the jaw, blood trickling out from the ripped corners. Cuts and slashes covered the torso, arms, and groin area. He blanched as he saw the sex encased in a jagged metal cage of sorts, blood smearing it as the ragged edges cut into it with every movement. A line of metal links led from it, binding the balls, then leading underneath, back to the bloodied buttocks. His hands were bound, also white and stiff, like his feet. Gris moved to cut the binding, Nick's hand stopping him.
"Not like that. Let me get a grip first. If you cut without any pressure, the blood will rush in and cause so much pain, he'll wish his hands were cut off. Let me hold them and ease off slowly." Strong fingers encircled the slender wrists, then a quick nod, Grissom slicing through the leather thong, stiff with blood and sweat. He moved to the feet, Chandler copying Nick's actions. A quick hiss from the victim, legs moving and back arching, quickly subsiding as the pain traveled through him, moans coming from behind the gag.
"Hold still, man. Let your hands and feet get used to it. Then we'll do your mouth, okay? Nod for me, please." The pleading tone of Nick's voice cut through them all, knowing that the young man at their feet was in so much pain and they could do nothing to relieve it. Brass stood, moving aside as he checked on the status of the ambulance, his voice raising as he demanded it to 'move faster', a look of disgust on his face as he walked back over to them.
'Another fifteen minutes, it's stuck in traffic about six blocks away." He knelt once more, reaching for a napkin and a bottle of water sitting on the nearby table. He soaked the cloth, handing it to Grissom, watching as he wiped the battered face, cleaning off the caked blood and saliva. Nick had gone back to collecting hairs and fibers from the blond head lying by his legs, Novak labeling them as he finished.
"I'll have to go back up there and see what's there. Try to see how he got up there, if he was put there for later or if someone wanted him to just die. Gris, let's try to get the ballgag out now, see if he can talk a little. It's been three hours since the shooting, he has to be thirsty." He bent over the body, seeing the eyes trying to open, green shining through the lids, focus off but straining. "Hey, I'm Nick. This is Grissom, Captain Brass, Officers Novak and Chandler. We're here to help you. I'm going to take out the gag now, don't try to close your jaws right away." He waited until the eyes blinked twice, a slight nod giving him acknowledgement of the instruction. Working his fingers under the injured head, he unbuckled the strap, nodding to Grissom, his boss sliding out the spit-soaked ball, dropping it into an evidence baggie Novak held out. Gris watched as the young officer labeled it, then set it on the table by them. Good man. Might be a candidate for CSI someday. He caught Brass's look, then grinned wryly.
"Hey, can't help myself. Always looking for intelligent men for my crew. I'll ask you first, Jim, before I steal him away from you." A groan caught their attention once more as Nick carefully massaged the strained jaws, slowly easing them shut, thumbs pressing against the stiff joints, fingers easing the tension until he heard teeth click against each other.
"Thank you," hissed out, hand reaching up to graze Nick's jaw lightly, then clenching as another wave of pain coursed through the ravaged body.
"I have to roll you over, check your back. The ambulance is almost here but I want you to be ready to go, without all this stuff on you, first. Okay?" A slight nod, then a grimace as hands rolled him over, Chandler moaning in sympathy as the ripped-apart back was revealed. The waist-length blond hair was gently pulled away from the bloody back. At least forty lash marks, some deeper than others, covered the slender back, the buttocks red and welted with broad marks, not unlike a strap or heavy belt. Nick gently separated the cheeks, fingers tracing the links from the ballcage, finding what he had feared. A buttplug, deeply embedded in the injured ass, trickles of semen oozing out from around it. Someone had fucked this kid, then plugged him, putting pressure on all his inside organs. He had played around with this same sort of stuff in Texas, but it was consensual and pleasurable. He and his partner got off on it, and it was never meant to harm, just arouse. He shook his head, feeling Grissom's hand on his shoulder. "What is it Nick?"
"This was not just a sex game gone too far. This isn't for pleasure, this was torture. Not bondage, not S&M, just torture, plain and simple. Some sick fuck's idea of fun. I have to get this out of him, relieve the pressure before it does damage to his guts. Who knows how much semen and fluid is up inside of him. Novak, you got your tool on you?" Novak nodded, handing Nick his zip-tie snips, watching as Nick cut through the thin metal links first, then handing it to Grissom, waiting until he had moved to the cockcage, snipping away the locking mechanism and freeing the damaged sex. Slowly Nick pulled out the plug, watching as the outer ring expanded with each bulge of plastic passing through it. Six balls, the appliance hard and unforgiving as it was slowly withdrawn, giving pain at its passage out even as it had when it was inserted. Nick shivered in remembrance, having had the same device inside himself so many years ago. It had taken over 45 minutes to insert it, his balls aching with dry orgasms before it was done. The difference between sex play with a willing partner and this torture was like the world reversing itself
He grabbed the soft cloth Chandler handed to him, grateful to see the officer had wet it down with cool water from a wine cooler on one of the nearby tables. He wiped off the flow of liquid relieved to see that there was minimal tearing, the outer ring red and swollen, but capable of healing on its own in a few days. There was no continued bleeding after the first flow of fluid.
"You're going to be fine, little one. Looks like no internal damage, a scan will tell better. I'm going to wipe off your back, okay?" Nick glanced over at Brass, seeing the look in his eyes, the bitterness that a fellow human being had done this to a kid. Chandler held out another large evidence bag, Grissom dropping the plug into it, shaking his head at its size and shape. His own hole clenched in sympathy pains as he watched Chandler lay it on the table, next to the gag. The bloody cockcage was next, Novak using tongs to handle it, careful of the sharp edges ringing it.
Nick soaked the napkin, laying it over the worst of the slashes, letting the cool water do its work on the abused flesh. Brass grabbed the cooler, walking to the sink behind the bar and filled it with warm water. He had noticed the shivering, the cool water too cold on bare skin. Bringing it back, Nick nodded in gratitude, replacing the cold cloth with another one, Brass taking the soiled one and tossing it in a pile of debris that had fallen off a nearby table in the mad rush during the shooting. They all looked up as the sound of sirens could be heard outside. Novak slid the table holding the bindles and evidence bags back against the wall, making room for the stretcher he knew would be coming to take their victim.
Grissom took a swollen hand, relieved to feel warmth running through it, pulse strong. "They're here to take you to the hospital. No one can hurt you there, you'll be safe. I'm going to send, with Captain Brass's permission, one of these officers along with you, to stay outside while you're being checked, and then to guard your room after. Jim, who can you spare?" Grissom looked at Brass, then up at the two policemen, surprised when they both nodded. "We'll both go. One to stand guard and one to take a statement when he's ready. We don't mind if the Captain doesn't. We'll call when we get some news."
The ambulance crew entered, pushing a gurney ahead of them, one of them moving to kneel at the boy's side. "Good God, what happened to him? I thought this was just a shooting. We already took that vic to the ER and he's doing fine so far in surgery. Where did this one come from?" She looked up at Brass and Nick, a look of confusion on her face when they pointed to the empty space above their heads. Grissom finally answered.
"He was in the ceiling hiding. Someone either hid him up there or he crawled up there to get away from more torture. Just take good care of him. We'll be by later and these two officers are going to accompany him on the trip and stay with him after." She nodded and began taking vitals, careful of the cuts and bruises on his arms and body. An IV went in next, saline solution rehydrating his body, replacing some of the fluids that had sweated out of him. Blood would come in the ER, and more tests. This would have to do for now. Her crew slid him on the gurney, covering him with their sheets and wrapping a blanket around his body for warmth.
A pale hand came out to grab Nick's arm, its strength surprising. It was an urgent tug, eyes slitting open to look into dark brown ones, panic evident in the green orbs.
"It's safe. You'll be taken care of. You'll see us later on tomorrow, after we clear the rooms here." The hand tightened, a slight sound coming from the ripped lips.
"Behind the wall...secret rooms...for extra special clients. More like...me...in there. Check...please."
Brass sucked in a harsh breath. More like this one? Behind what wall? He scanned the club.
The hand released Nick, wavering as it pointed to the far corner. "Secret door. Get magnetic key from register. Will release door...hidden... hallway, more rooms. Get boys out." The young man collapsed, seeing the determined looks on the men's faces. His eyes closed, grateful at last that he was safe.
Novak moved to the register while the other men walked to the far corner, Nick's fingers finding a seam in the wall, moving along its length, tracing the doorway. He found a slot in the molding and moved to let Novak slide the card in. A soft whir and the door opened inward, dim light fixtures along the wall, As soon as they entered, the door closed, but they were relieved to see a handle on their side to get back out. They moved down the hallway, all guns drawn, but heard nothing. Brass opened the first door, gasping at the accoutrements hanging on the walls and the cross set up in the middle of the floor. He also noticed a grate that had been taken off the AC duct on the far wall, a trail of blood leading up to it, and into it.
"Looks like this is where our boy started out." Nick moved over to the wall, shining his light up into the shaft.
"Blood on the floor of it. He dragged himself, bound as he was, along the duct and then turned right. I'll see about tracking it later. Let's check on the rest of the rooms. He seemed to think there were more boys back here." They closed the door, Nick putting up a yellow sticker over the seam. Only one of them would be allowed back in there and they would know if anyone else had entered it if the seal was broken.
Novak opened the next two doors, but the rooms were empty. The next room yielded a young brunette, similarly trussed up like their victim. His head lolled against his arms, the chains holding him upright, his toes barely touching the floor. His back had been flogged but no fresh blood flowed, only seepage. Novak and Chandler unhooked his wrists, Brass calling for another ambulance. Novak stayed with the victim, the rest of them moving down the hallway, finding two more young men, both unconscious, both drugged and both beaten and bound. One was tied over a pommel horse, his legs shackled to the floor, a plug in his rectum, long horsehair tail hanging down. A bit and reins completed the picture, the riding crop lying on the floor next to him, covered in blood and bits of skin. Chandler helped Grissom and Nick bag everything, having run back into the other room and getting both their cases. The boys were hurriedly covered with tablecloths pulled from the tables in the club, fetters cut off, devices removed. The copper smell of blood filled the rooms, along with the rank smell of sex and semen.
"I'm going to be grilling the owner. He has to have known what was going on in those back rooms. Why else the keycard in the register? He's looking at some pretty serious charges. The DA will want to get in on this too. Grissom, Nick, I'm going to take off now, that okay with you?" Brass stood by them, not wanting to leave just yet but wanting to find the bastards who did this. It had been over an hour and they were all worn to the bone.
"How could anyone treat people like this? Kids, not even old enough to be in here, let alone be tortured like this." Nick sat slumped on the floor, hands shaking as he closed his case, his body coated with sweat and blood. The ambulance had taken the three boys to the hospital and they had begun processing the rooms, both men finally admitting that they would have to quit and come back later. It was just too much. They would need help on this one. The club alone would have taken up their shift, but these rooms, this torture of boys, would be even bigger. Too much for two men, even if one of them was Grissom. Brass stopped down by Nick, rubbing a soothing hand along his shoulders, pulling him close.
"We'll get them, Nicky, I promise. Those boys have to know something, heard some kind of name, give us a description. There are clubs that we can check and get some names from." He looked up as Grissom stood by them, then dropped to the floor taking Nick's hand in his.
"I'll ask Lady Heather. This is beyond her venue but she might know of some of her clients that were into this kind of stuff. Or someone she banned because they did something like this to one of her workers. I'll call her later on. Nicky, look at me, please." Grissom knew that this would eat at Nick, the man with a heart that cared so much for all the victims, no matter the cost to himself.
Brass nodded once, then left with only a glance back. Nick still sat on the floor, Grissom by his side. The two men he admired most in the world, and they were too blind to see that they were perfect for each other. Nick's love and compassion tempered against Gil's strength and resolve. Two hearts that needed the other half to be complete. His friends.
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Three days. It took three days to completely process the club's backrooms. Three days of utter despair for the team, all of them, even Greg, joining in the collection of evidence. The shooter had turned out to be the vic's jealous wife. Arrested and arraigned, trail date already set. The easy one. Now they had to deal with the utter filth that occupied the space that decent humans should live in. They had over eighty sets of fingerprints to investigate. The back rooms had been busy.
Nick sat slumped on the bench of the locker room, hands pressed hard into his eyes. Grissom debated whether he should go talk to him, his heart tying with his head in the utter confusion. Should he try to comfort him, only to have Nick look at him, wondering where the joke was? Grissom never let his emotions show in a case, Grissom only looked at cold, hard facts, not people. Grissom didn't care. Grissom didn't want his team to get too involved. Fuck involved, Grissom thought to himself, I am involved. Not in the case, but in what affects Nicky. And Nicky was hurting...desperately so. The whole team was being effected, even Greg, their own personal Tigger, was quiet and calm. They were tired, true, but so were their hearts.
"You going to see Philip?" Grissom put a hand out when Nicky started in surprise. Tired, red-rimmed eyes rose to meet his, the face drawn, the usually smiling lips tight with tiredness and pain. They had found out their boy's name was Philip Brunson, only 18, homeless in Las Vegas since the age of 15, when his mother had died in an alley. Shifted around from foster home to foster home, until he aged out of the system and fell through the cracks. Hustling, stealing, sleeping in whatever hole he could find at night, until the nice man offered him a room in exchange for his body. Food, water, cool air, a bed to sleep in...too much for the suffering boy to refuse. He had sold his body before, what was being a whore for someone who was willing to take care of him going to do to his already shattered self-esteem? Nothing.
"After I get washed up and changed. I promised myself I wouldn't go see him that first day until after I had calmed down, but I changed my mind. I wanted to see what those animals had done to him. I just sat there and watched him sleep. So drugged out he didn't even know I was there. Novak came in and sat with me. He's kind of appointed himself as big brother. He has a little brother the same age, just graduating from high school. I think he see what could happen to any kid that age if they're not taken care of and loved. Novak's a good man. He's make a good member of the team, Gris."
Grissom smiled, knowing that the two men had bonded over this case. Taylor Novak, 23 years old, fresh out of the academy, burning to learn but with the same kind heart as Nick. He had been on guard for over 26 hours when Grissom showed up, the officer's eyes red from both loss of sleep and tears. He thought back to Monday, the first day he had gone to the hospital to see the boy. He had seen how Nick and Novak had reacted together, their closeness, their almost instant bonding. He had nodded at both of them, then entered the room to see their first victim.
Green eyes had turned to him, blinking slowly, the drugs still slowing down reaction times. The thin hand reached up and Grissom gently took it, rubbing the thin skin over the delicate bones of the torn wrist.
"I remember you. You were at the club, with the other guys. I've seen you before...somewhere, long time ago. You..." The blond turned his head, tears trickling down his cheeks. Grissom ran his hand up the arm, then took the shaking chin in his hand, cupping it gently.
"I cut away the cage. I tried to be careful. I'm sorry if I hurt you even more." He was amazed when the green eyes turned to him in shock.
"You never hurt me. I was so ashamed that anyone would see me that way. Well, normal people, anyway. I'm used to the others seeing me naked. When you're a whore, it gets old real fast, embarrassment. Real fast. But I've never been treated like they did. I've had rough sex, but this was so different. They wanted me as close to dead as they could get, without the actual killing of me."
"We have a few names. The club owner is sitting in jail, just from having those rooms in the back of his club, let alone what happened to you boys. Now we just need the client's names and we can press charges against them too. If you could remember any names, please let the officer on duty know, okay?" Grissom quickly stood as Philip tried to sit up, arms reaching for and supporting him, getting him settled against the pillows.
"How are the other guys? I heard one of them scream but then the gunshots started and everyone in my room took off. I guess the one guy took pity on me and cut the rope holding me to the cross. I think his name was Ray. He was always good to me, never hitting me too hard and always giving water when I needed it. It wasn't his scene, the torture. He tried to stop it that night, but he was overruled and then threatened. I'd know some of them if you could get some pictures together. I already talked with Brass and he's going to gather up some photos of known hardcore S&Ms but I don't think any of these guys will be there. They're highrollers, rich dudes with a lot of power and lots of money." He squirmed around a little, Grissom again helping him get comfortable.
"The other boys are fine. Jeff Contell got released the first day, scrapes and bruises, and Jimmy Nash got out this morning, three broken ribs and some stitches on his butt. Justin is already home, just banged up a little. Your group seemed to do the worst damage. Can you remember anything else that night...sounds, smells, anything lying around that you could see a name on?"
"I like you. You're quiet and ask questions that I can answer." Philip smiled, taking Grissom's hand in his, fingers laced as he settled back once more. His face was getting better, the swelling already going down. Luckily, nothing was broken, the worst damage being his mouth from the ballgag and his blackened eye. His cheekbone was bruised, not broken. His jaw was still swollen slightly, but its angles were slowly regaining their definition once more. A strong jaw like Nick's, straight nose, and green eyes like the grass after a spring rain. Beautiful. Grissom felt a blush rise in his cheeks and turned his head.
"Hey, don't turn away. I don't mind if you look at me. I'm used to men looking at me. I like you. And Nick, And Tayler. Brass is okay after you get used to his bluntness. He brought me cream chocolates and those flowers over there."
Grissom shook his head. "Forgive an old man an indulgence. I haven't seen anyone so beautiful or so delicate in so long, I can't help but stare. And get angry that anyone marred that beauty...or that grace."
They had sat in silence for over an hour, just exchanging glances, Grissom lightly clasping the thin hand in his much larger one, occasionally brushing his thumb over the slender wrist. He had left when Philip had finally fallen sleep, daring to press a soft kiss on the pale brow.
Now he looked at Nick, seeing the fatigue pouring off the exhausted body, knowing that he would drag himself to the hospital, regardless if he was ready to fall down. Gil knew he had to be harsh, knowing it would hurt, both Nick, and himself. He had asked his plans, knowing his routine these past three days.
"I don't want you going to see Philip. I want you to go home, get some real sleep, and not show your face in this lab until tomorrow at midnight. That's an order, both as your supervisor, and your friend. You're no help to me, this lab, or to the victims whose cases you'll be assigned. Nor to Philip. I'll follow you home, just to make sure you get there, post a guard outside if I have to. I don't want you working or visiting or...anything, got that?" Grissom glared at Nick, receiving one right back. Then the body sagged, a hand reaching out for his. He sank down on the bench, arm going around the slumped shoulders.
"I won't. I'll go home, take a shower, try to eat. I know I'm no good this way. I just want to help those kids. Contell got to go home to his parents. They were worried sick about him after he disappeared. Thank God he was on that missing person's list. Nash is going to his cousin's home on High Street. She'll take care of him until he can go back to class. Justin's going into counseling. All boys without reason to get hurt except they were the right age for those sick bastards to want...to torture. Philip has no one. He's alone. Taylor and I have been visiting him, plus Chandler and Brass show up when they have a few minutes. I like the kid."
"So do I. Say, let me take you out to breakfast. That way I'll at least know you've eaten. I promise I won't follow you home to make sure you get there. I'll go see Philip, take him something to eat that isn't that hospital food! Agree to that?" Grissom raised his eyebrows, waiting for Nick's answer. Nick snorted, laughing softly.
"Yeah, that will do. I could eat something besides vending machine food. Maybe Manny's and his triple bypass breakfast? Philip might like some pancakes or that French toast that Madeline makes. It's the best I've ever eaten except my mother's." He slid on his jacket, smile on his face as he helped pull Grissom up from the bench.
"You've never tasted mine, Nicky my boy, never tasted mine! I have it on good authority that it is the best in Las Vegas - and Catherine's pretty picky!" They both laughed and walked out to the parking lot, Grissom waiting until Nicky got in before he started the Tahoe.
"Buckle up. You're so sleepy you might fall asleep and hit the dash. Lay your head back and doze a little 'til we get there. I'll wake you up, promise." Nick sighed, laying his head back on the headrest, long lashes fluttering shut.
"Am tired. I'll just shut my eyes..." He trailed off, already asleep. Gil took a chance and brushed his fingers over the high cheekbone, a low moan coming from his throat. How he wanted to do that some time when Nick was awake.
tbc in The Hospital