Title: Hitting The Wall
By: it-glitters
Pairing: Greg/Nick
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Rating: R
Series: 1) Bewilderment, 2) Take Me Home, 3) Cynics, 4) Blood Spatters, 5) Hello Mr. Sanders
Summary: Kelly evades the CSIs and Greg is fighting a losing battle.


The team was already on their third shift – alternating going home for showers and pitiful attempts at sleep. The surveillance tapes had given them nearly nothing – they couldn't even tell if the suspect was a man or a woman because of the hat and overcoat. Whoever it was had been very smart about the drop – they wore gloves and slipped in and out without drawing a second glance.

Nick sat alone in an evidence room agonizing over his own case – there was nothing that he had to offer that would help Greg. Grissom had better luck with the photograph – he had at least managed to trace it back to the store where the supplies had been sold. Whoever had taken Greg had access to a dark room and knew how to process film – but there was no way of knowing when the equipment had been bought. If the perp had paid in cash, there was even less hope of getting a lead.

There was no DNA directly on the envelope, but they did find an errant hair that had fallen into the bottom with the skin tag in place – but processing was taking up valuable time that they really didn't have to spare. And then, if the person wasn't in the system all they would be able to get was the sex of whoever had come in contact with the envelope.

They were all frustrated and desperate for information. The amount of blood found at the scene and shown in the photograph gave them an unpleasant cause to worry about Greg's health.

Warrick and Sara had reprocessed the bathroom after the realization that it was likely that whoever had taken Greg had spent time there. Both the day shift and swing shift DNA techs were on, working solely on Greg's case to see if they could find any amount of genetic material that didn't belong to Greg. As far as anyone knew, Greg would have been the only one to use any of the personal items in his house, so anything they found would likely belong to the perp.

The analysis of the handwriting had killed what little hope they had of connecting Kelly Gordon to Greg's kidnapping. They used prison records as a reference and the two samples weren't even close. Despite the lack of evidence, Brass had managed to get Kelly's PO to agree to bring her in as a person of interest.

"Ms. Gordon, can you tell me where you were on Friday morning."

"Please detective, call me Kelly. I was at work at the laundromat where my PO got me a job."

No good – Greg had been taken sometime around 9:30 in the morning – given the assumption that he drove directly home and based on the drying of the blood found at the scene. Nick had arrived around 11 and the rest of CSI had gotten there shortly after Nick called the scene in. A quick call to Kelly's employer verified that she had been at work.

"Kelly, do you know Greg Sanders?"

She sat poised and unrattled. "Only vaguely – professionally. I know that he was involved in the case against my father involving Nick Stokes."

Brass thought about the way she had put it - the case against my father - the father was the one that had kidnapped a CSI and then blew himself up. He chose his next words carefully. "Do you hold some sort of grudge against CSI?"

"I don't know, a group of people put you in a cage for a stupid mistake that you couldn't control. While inside, your roommate makes you her bitch and passes you around the cellblock. And finally, just as you are about to get out, the only person who supported you gets dead. How would you feel, detective?" She was quickly growing hostile.

"Your father killed himself, and nearly took two CSI's with him – the one at the scene when the bomb went off and the one he left buried underground in a rigged coffin," Brass responded coldly.

Kelly began to stand up. "Are we done here, detective? I've told you I don't know Greg Sanders, and on top of that, I was at work when the guy got snatched."

"We'll be in touch, Ms. Gordon."

"How fun for me," she said as she walked out. Once outside and in her car, she dug out her cell phone.

"The cops are so lost on this one. I don't think we have to worry. I'll be back in a while – you should move on the second part of the plan – the kid won't go anywhere, he's too fucked up." She hung up the phone and put the car in gear.


Greg kept waiting for someone to come back. He had no idea how long he had been stuck in that room, drifting between states of consciousness and sleep. He was thirsty and needed to go to the bathroom. His mouth was gagged with something woolen that he occasionally managed to get lodged in the back of his throat during attempts at normal breathing. The dryness of it combined with the metallic taste of his own blood made him retch.

He didn't hear voices this time – every other time he had awoken he had heard the mufflings of something – actual people or the TV, he was unsure – but this time it was silent. He made a desperate attempt at moving forward, but succeed only in toppling the chair and urinating on himself in the process. He could feel a warmth on his back – he knew he had torn open the wound on his wrist. His breathing was heavy and labored against the gag and darkness overtook him again.


When Greg woke up again he was in a new place – at least he thought he was. He was naked and spread eagle on a bed with his feet and wrists bought to the posts and the gag was gone. He managed to lift up his head and look to the left to see that it was the same room because the toppled chair was there with a bloodstain on the floor – only now, for the first time, the lights were on.

"What exactly were you up to while I was gone, Mr. Sanders?" came a voice to his right. He moved his head to see Kelly Gordon sitting in a chair much like the one he had been tied to earlier.

"I had to go to the bathroom."

"You weren't trying to escape, were you?"


"Good," she said as she placed her hand on his thigh. He was cold and scared, but didn't say anything because he knew she would twist his words and she could use it as an excuse to rape him. The hand continued to work its way up and Greg tried to thing every unsexy thought he could; that, in combination with the situation and the coldness of the room allowed him to control his dick.

"You don't like me Greg?" He preferred her to call him Mr. Sanders – it was far less personal – but he didn't mention it. "It's because you like boys isn't it? I saw you with Nick. He's a nice man and all – a little naοve, but nice enough. You two looked so happy going home from that bar. I bet I could have followed you both up to his place and you would have never noticed. How does that feel, Greg – that lovely time at the start of a relationship?"

Greg blinked back tears at the thought of Nick. He thought it best to answer her questions as best he could.

"It's good – nice," he managed to choke out, battling the tears and the pain in his cut wrist.

"You two weren't together when he came to see me in jail were you?"

Greg didn't know that Nick had ever met this woman face to face before. "No."

She was toying nervously with her hand now – picking at something that Greg couldn't see. Mercifully, she got up and gave him a blanket and helped him to lift his head to drink some water.

"Bye, Greg," she whispered, stroking his face. "I have to go deal with some of my father's unfinished business. Someone else will be taking care of you for a bit, so I'm going to have to blindfold you again. Now I won't gag you, but you really should stay quiet – he's not nearly as forgiving as me."

Greg had no idea who he was, but he was petrified.


Next story in series - Capable Of Murder.