Title: To Where You Are

Author: Amaran Barrantes

To Where You Are
by Amaran Barrantes

OK, there I was getting ready for another year of academia. I'm in my second year at UCLA University of California at Los Angeles (Go Bruins!) Anyway, I came back early, from summer break, for an internship I am doing at one of the studios here and I got hit by a really rabid plot bunny. Dang, you always hear it could happen to you and never think it will. But, it did so I went with it. I have NEVER written a fanfic before so please be kind. I promise it will only hurt for a little while. Plus, if it totally blows I won't write any more of the story. If it's OK...Well, I may just continue. What the hell school doesn't start for a few weeks. Anyway, there are a few bad words. Nothing major. And, let me tell you I know them all! I restrained myself quite well.

*

It's another long night at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I feel like I've been up for two day's straight. Maybe that's because I HAVE been up for two days straight. Something in my tired brain tells me I should go home and get some sleep. Something tells me I need to march out of my office and straight into my car. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Just beeline it to my car and drive home where I can slowly sink away into my tired oblivion. Something tells me I have to get the hell away from this place and fast.

That same something is also what is keeping me here. It's not that I don't want to go home and jump into a hot shower. Wash away the dirt and strain of the past 48 hours. It's not that in my logical mind I don't know that if I continue the way I'm going I will crash and crash hard. It's just that I NEED to be awake. I need to carry the dirt and the reminder of the last 48 hours. If I go home and wash it away I could lose myself.

That is just not an option at this point. I have to do it. I have to keep on working. I have to find the answers. The truths that are hidden in bloodied and torn clothes. The answers that are waiting to be unleashed in the hair and fiber analysis. The results of the unselfish labor that an entire department has put into finding the person or persons who did this to you. An entire department, both nightshift and days, has dedicated themselves to these answers. No one has wavered. And, I certainly won't either.

I stare down at the crime scene photos and feel the emotion sweep over me. Even after two days of staring and studying these photos, I can't harden myself to my emotions. They threaten to overtake me every time. But, I'm a professional. I have to be. Especially when I see the pool of your blood left at the scene. I have to be, when I touch the shirt you were wearing when this needless tragedy occurred. I have to be when I receive a phone call from Warrick, from the hospital, that you are out of your third surgery in 48 hours. I have to be strong for the department. I have to be strong for our team. Most of all I have to be strong for the both of us. Because without you, there would be no me.

Standing up slowly, I make my way to the Break Room. `I need coffee, stat!' I think to myself. Mercifully, there is exactly one cup of coffee left. I pour myself the last cup and make my way back to the lab. Maybe, I can find something I was missing before. It could happen. The evidence will tell me all I need to know. I have to keep on believing that. Though, every fiber of my being is starting to doubt it. How could all these brilliant minds and expensive technology not give me anything after 2 days. I have to be missing something.

I fall into a chair in the lab and look at the battered and ripped up shirt. A shiver runs down my back as I realize that the rips in the shirt are due to the life saving efforts that were given to you at the scene. How could this have happened, I think to myself. How did this go so wrong so fast?

I stretch out the kinks in my neck when Warrick calls me again. Somehow, I know I don't want to hear his words.

*

Man does this blow. I am so damn tired of hospitals I could scream. So much suffering. Too much of it inflicted by careless, thoughtless and just downright evil people. I look around at the same hospital staff that has been here since I arrived here two days ago. How can they handle this, day in and day out? I guess the same way I have to when I am at a crime scene. But, this seems different. So much hope rests on their shoulders. So much trust given to their education and experience. They have all the power right now. And me? I don't have anything but hope. And, man I'm clinging to that like a drowning man would to a life preserver. But, I feel like I'm sinking fast.

I can tell my other teammates are feeling the same. We all are taking turns `just being here for our friend.' It's like feeling as if someone has to represent us for him. Even though we can't see him. We are here for him. It's that kind of thinking and waiting, though, that's driving me insane. I have to do something. Sitting here idle is killing me. It's killing us all. What good is it doing him? He probably doesn't have a clue we are even here for him. But, still….We have to be. He'd do it for us on any day of the week and twice on Sunday, man.

Wearily, I sit back down in the hospital chair I pretty much have taken residence in. I'm due in at the lab soon. I need to be there. Though, after taking a whiff of myself. I'm pretty sure a nice shower probably should be in my near future, as well. `Damn, Brown! You are ripe!'

I wash a rough hand over my face and let out a deep, thoughtful and very tired sigh when I see Sara come in. Hopefully she has some good news on the evidence front. Though, at this moment, I'm not holding out much hope. It's already been two days and we have found zip. Zero…..Zilch. Kinda sad for one of the top criminal labs in our country. Sad, that with all our technology and all our scientific minds. All we can come up with is the damn proverbial goose egg.

Sara and I catch up on things and it isn't any great surprise that, indeed, nothing new has come down our way. Just more tests and more analysis. Nothing to keep us going in this very frustrating and very draining case. What in the hell happened out there?

I stretch my tired body and tell Sara I'm headed back to the lab. She looks as bad as I do right now. Another for the CSI Roadkill Hall of Fame. Funny thing is, when I was a betting man, I would have staked it all thinking she didn't give a rat's ass about him. Funny how things and life changes.

Take my man Grissom. For all his unpolished people skills, I've never seen the man look so distraught. It's like he is a man possessed. He was another person who I thought was just in it for the science. Turns out, that might be just a façade. Looks like Gil Grissom does have a heart. Because he hasn't sat down since this whole disaster went down. He's in it for the long haul, it looks like. People never cease to amaze me.

I make it to the door when I hear a panicked voice over the loud speaker, followed by shouts and a really irritating alarm. The voice announces that there's a code blue. My heart sinks lower as I realize that code is coming from Nick's room.

*

I am beat! I never thought I could ever be so tired in my entire life. And, trust me I am the Queen of the All-Nighter's. Two-day's for me without sleep, normally no problemo. I can do it with my eyes closed….I mean opened. You know what I mean. Anyway, normally I'm such an insomniac this would be like child's play. But THESE last two days are the longest two days I have ever known.

Who knew I could care so much about one person? I mean, Nick Stokes is a good co-worker. Don't get me wrong. At first, when I met him, I thought he was another all looks no brains kind of guy. I didn't really give him enough credit. That was before I really got to know him. Turns out, I was wrong. Though, I'd never really admit that to anyone. Nick's a good guy. Good at his job, well liked, smart. The kind of guy I'd be attracted to if I didn't think of him like a brother.

He's always been there for me. Too bad he couldn't always say that about me. But, I'm starting to change. Funny thing is, I notice a lot of people changing because of him. Take Grissom, for instance. The man is like the Ice-Man. But, the last couple of month's, he's starting to come out of his shell. Talking, socializing more. I was excited about that. I've had an, I guess, not so secret thing for him for awhile. Not, that he is reciprocating. But, it is nice to see him open up more to all of us. I mean we are like a little makeshift family. Before, though, it seemed like Grissom just tolerated Nick. You know, had to like him because he was on the team. Lately, Grissom talks to Nick. They work a lot of cases together. In fact, they were supposed to have been working `the case' when all this shit hit the fan. You can tell Grissom is feeling guilty about that one.

It's not like it's his fault, though. I mean, there was a call and they needed Grissom right away. It's not like he had much choice. But, it left Nick to cover the crime scene by himself. Nobody could have anticipated what went down. NOBODY. But, it sucks that it happened. But, we'll find out who did it. I swear if it's the last thing we do. We WILL find the person who shot Nick. And, they will pay!

The door to the waiting room opens and I see Warrick sitting in the chairs, scrubbing his tired face. Unfortunately, I have to be the bearer of bad news from back at the lab. We have found nothing, so far. But, I have faith. Faith in the science. Faith in my co-worker's. Faith in God. Even though, I can't say I'm a big believer, traditionally at least. I know that there's no way that HE would let someone go unpunished for this mess, no this tragedy, that went down only 48 hours ago.

Sitting down in chairs, I say goodbye to Warrick as he leaves to go back to the lab. I pull out my cell phone to call Catherine. She had to go home and make sure Lindsey was all right. Plus, she just needed to get away from all the drama for a few minutes. She and Nick share a special bond. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's like there is a special secret between those two. Catherine would never give it up, I'm sure. But, it's like she feels a need to protect Nick from something.

In any case, I promised to call her once I got to the hospital. I press the speed dial and soon her tired voice comes on the line. I start to speak when an anxious voice calls over the PA. A code blue. I listen a little closer and my jaw drops when I realize the room number is all too familiar.

*

Sometimes I think it would have been much easier if I'd stayed a dancer. I mean, as much as I know I couldn't do that forever. What in the hell made me pick criminalistics? What, I couldn't have been a paralegal or an office assistant? I had to work in a crime lab? I feel so old some days. This job can take its toll on your mind and body.

Walking into Lindsey's room, I hold back a curse as I trip over the many toys littering her floor. I look down at the innocent face of my young daughter. It's hard to believe we were ever this young. This young and innocent. I brush a kiss across her little sleeping forehead and move her teddy bear closer so she can nestle closer. I would give anything to be this secure. But that kind of security comes with being young and feeling protected.

Poor Nick, did he ever have that? It was taken away from him far too young. Yet, somehow he is able to maintain his optimism. How does he do that? After all my years, I find I don't have that kind of ability. I feel too jaded by people and events. I feel like I know too many secrets and too much about life and its cruelties.

Don't get me wrong. I'm glad I know some of Nick's truths. He needed to get them off his chest. Everyone needs someone they can turn to. I'm glad, for Nick that I could be the one he turned to. Who am I kidding, though? I'm glad for myself that he felt he could tell me.

I've never met someone like Nick before. Someone who could go through things like Nick has gone through and still retain his resiliency. If it were me, I'd be a basket case. Looking at my daughter's face, I hope she never has to deal with a fraction of the bullshit I have seen. And, surely hope that in all her life, she never has to go through what Nick has had to go through.

Quietly, I move out of the room and make my way to the kitchen. I need some caffeine fast. This has been the longest two days of my life. The whole team hasn't had a wink of sleep since all this crap came down. But, why would they? This was Nick. Not that it would really be any different had it been someone else on the team. But, it's like the race against time is more important right now. Strange how that is. I really can't explain it. It just is.

Seeing Grissom as I left the lab made all of this too real. The man is a shell of his former self. Now, I know that sounds way too dramatic, but it's weird too. Gil Grissom, ever the consummate professional, rarely shows his emotion. It's all about `evidence doesn't lie.' And, `the evidence will tell us what happened.' But, in the last 48 hours Grissom has been a man on fire. Like he has this overwhelming need.

I really had seen this coming. Lately, Grissom hasn't been as "Grissomesque" as he normally is. It's like a part of him has woken up. At first, I thought it was just Grissom realizing life does go on, even without science. But, then I realized there was someone behind that big turnaround. I didn't think much about it at first. Frankly, it was just nice to see the change. Nobody should ever be that sheltered. Is that the word I'm looking for? Well, anyway it's long overdue. But, I fear things could change if Nick doesn't make it. That simply just can't happen. This is Nick we are talking about. He WILL make it and the team will be restored in all its glory. That's just the way it has to happen.

Catherine opened the refrigerator to grab something to eat when the phone rang. Answering it as soon as possible so as not to wake Lindsey. Listening to the caller, Catherine closed her eyes and covered her mouth as the tears welled in her eyes. He has to make it, she reminded herself.

END