| Second Chances- by kyrdwyn (page 3) |
| Rated: R Spoilers: None Synopsis: The crew calls in a language specialist from UNLV for some help. She may know more about this case than anyone knows, however. |
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| CSI, Gil Grissom and company, and places and etc are all property of Anthony Zuiker, Alliance Atlantis, CBS, and other companies. They did not condone this fic, and I am not getting paid for it. I write because I want to. All other characters not appearing on CSI in any way, shape, or form that appear in this story are my property. If you have any comments - good or bad, feel free to e-mail me at: toxicrev@yahoo.com |
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| Kyra hung up and turned off her cell phone, shoving it back in her pocket. For three days she'd been near catatonic, distancing her mental self from her captor. He could touch her body, but her mind was hidden, concentrating on those moments in Gil's arms. Then last night, she had dreamed in her fitful doze. She saw Gil standing in her bedroom doorway again, watching her pack, only this time he was begging her not to go, to help him find this psycho. She was still a forensic scientist, and only she truly knew what he was capable of. He held his hands out to her, and she reached to take them. Before she could, Powell came up behind Gil and slit his throat, laughing as Kyra screamed, Gil's blood soaking her. She'd woken up sweating, a scream trapped in her throat. She'd sat up and stared at the wall, seeing that final scene again and again. She was still seeing it when Powell came into the room, bringing her breakfast. He waited while she ate, and then told her that he was going to make one final demonstration of his worthiness of her before they left for their new life. She listened in horror as he laid out his plan to leave his final message using the body of one of the investigators on the case - he just had to choose his victim. After tomorrow night, he told her, they'd be free to leave Las Vegas. He'd caressed her while talking, and she forced herself to listen to his plan as her skin crawled. She couldn't retreat now; someone else was about to be hurt because of her. And she had a bad premonition that Powell had fixated on Gil as his target. She watched carefully as Powell opened the door. There was a window directly across from the door, and in the few seconds before the door closed, she could see the sign for the Young Machine Company. In the distance she heard another door close and a car start. She cursed herself for losing three days to fear. Hell, she'd been able to leave Gil a note at the hotel, why couldn't she have kept her focus after that, instead of freezing up? The note! Kyra drew in a sharp breath. She'd left her cell phone number for Gil, because she knew she had the phone in her pocket, so he could track her. God, she was an idiot. She twisted on the bed, biting her lip as the handcuffs bit into her wrists, trying to get the phone out of her pocket. The battery was still semi-charged. She didn't know how much time she had before Powell came back. She couldn't remember the crime lab number. She dialed 911, telling the operator that she'd seen Kyra Douglas near the Young Machine Company. She didn't want to tell them who she was - she couldn't stay on the line in case he came back. Then she'd called her house. She wasn't sure why, except that she had a feeling Gil would have someone checking up there. She left him a quick message on her machine. She prayed the 911 operator would take the tip seriously. Powell had been surprisingly tight lipped about the search for her - she had no idea if her kidnapping had been made public. Still, it was worth a shot. She had to try to get out of here, though. She knew one thing; she was not spending the rest of her life with this psycho. Grimly, she stared down at the handcuffs on her wrists. Lord, but this was going to hurt like hell. * * * "I'm across from the Young Machine Factory. He's laughing at us, one of you is his next victim soon, and he said we're leaving tomorrow. Oh god, please hurry." Grissom looked at his team. They all looked a little shaken at the news that one of them was the next victim. He had suspected it, knew that Powell would want to make a trophy killing. "Young Machine Factory - in the industrial area where her cell phone was located. Directly across from it is an abandoned warehouse that was being converted to storage units before the owner went bankrupt. Place was sealed up tight when the uniforms when through - they didn't see anything." Brass was holding forth, pointing out the building on a map of the area. "The SWAT team is standing by. We have no idea if this guy is there or not at the moment. I've got a car going over there now, they'll report back in a few minutes." A lab tech stopped by with a note for Brass, he read it and looked up. "There's no car at the building now, and 911 got a call about an hour ago that Kyra was seen near that building - they traced the call to her cell phone. Smart girl, leaving more than one clue." "Why leave a tip about herself though? Why not just tell them who she was?" asked Warrick. "Probably afraid of Powell catching her on the phone," replied Catherine. "Whatever her reasons, we've got to get her out of there tonight." Brass nodded at Grissom's statement. "Let's go." On the way out Catherine grabbed Grissom's arm, "Hey, don't do anything stupid out of guilt." Grissom regarded her somberly, "I won't." Catherine wasn't reassured. * * * The police and the CSI team crept down the hallways of the warehouse. There was no sign of Powell, but no one was taking any chances. Doors were opened carefully, SWAT guys in body armor going in first before allowing anyone else in. Halfway down the third row of storage rooms was a door with a lock on it. Sara pointed it out to Grissom. He nodded, getting the attention of the SWAT lieutenant. One of his men produced a bolt cutter, making short work of the lock. Another member pulled the door open as a third and fourth rushed in, rifles cocked. Kyra had almost managed to get a hand free when she heard the sound of the lock being cut. She looked up, praying it was the police and not Powell trying to make her think she was being rescued. Two guys in armor with rifles burst into the room. She instinctively raised her hands, showing she was unarmed. They cased the tiny room with their eyes, confirming Powell wasn't there before lowering the rifles and moving back, allowing Grissom and the others to enter. Tears spilled from her eyes when she saw Gil. Sara stood back in the doorway, watching as Grissom and Brass went to work on the handcuffs that bound Kyra to the bed. Her wrists were covered in her blood from trying to escape. She was speaking almost incoherently; trying to warn them that Powell was still out there. She's still afraid, Sara thought. She expects Powell to pop up at any second. Catherine had noticed the fear still in Kyra's eyes also, along with Grissom's expression when he had seen Kyra. This wasn't over for Grissom - it wouldn't be until the fear left Kyra's eyes. Grissom had fallen for her, Catherine realized. This was personal for him. The SWAT team had moved back down the corridor to the entrance to the building, leaving Brass and the CSIs to tend to Kyra. The paramedics had been called; Nick went to wait for them. Warrick left to grab the cases to start processing the scene. No one noticed one of the doors that hadn't been checked was open. * * * Powell slipped out of the room where he had hidden when he had returned earlier in the afternoon. He knew Kyra had her cell phone, had bugged her room when she wasn't watching and heard the calls she made. He left his car in a junkyard, removing the plates, taking one of the junk cars and driving to one of the nearby factories, parking there and walking. He knew the police would be by soon, and he wanted to show them that he was worthy. He wasn't angry with Kyra, he was happy his Princess had regained some of the fire that had drawn him. They would be together after he finished off the interlopers - especially the head investigator. His adversary. His rival. He crept closer, sticking to the shadows. Two women were standing outside the room. A mass of cops milled about just outside the exit at the end - too far away to interfere. He heard Kyra's voice inside the room, with two answering voices. He paused, waiting for the right time. He had Kyra's nine-millimeter in his hand. Not as elegant as his knife, but the odds were better for him. * * * Sara's step forward to help steady Kyra saved her life. The bullet whizzed past Sara's back and buried itself in the wood of the wall studs. She pushed Kyra back into the room, dropping to the ground with the others. "He's here." Kyra's voice was calm, almost relieved. The CSIs had their weapons out, trying to locate Powell. He was hiding from them. They could hear his laughter eerily echoing down the hall. It mixed with the shouts from the SWAT team as they realized Powell was in the building. Grissom noticed Kyra's eyes were fixated on something intently, a small spark of hatred burning. He followed her gaze, seeing the darker shadow on the wall - Powell. Another shot ran out. Grissom took aim at where he had seen the flash from the gun and fired, hearing the sound of a bullet hitting flesh. Brass, Sara, and Catherine followed his line of fire. They could hear Powell's grunts of pain, then the sound of a body hitting the floor. They stayed down, but no more shots were fired. They slowly got up and moved forward, Catherine playing her flashlight on the body. Three bullet holes in the chest, one in the thigh. He wasn't moving. * * * He hurt. He could feel the blood draining. He didn't have much time left. He couldn't let them have this victory. He saw the head investigator turn to his princess, saw the look in the man's eyes. The man had beaten him forensically; Powell could accept that. But no one else was worthy of his princess, and he hated the man for trying. Jealousy gave him the extra spurt of energy needed to aim the gun and fire one last time. * * * Sara felt Kyra come up next to her and turned to her. The professor was looking down at Powell, an unreadable expression on her face. Suddenly her eyes widened in fear and she leapt at Grissom, shoving him as a shot rang out. Sara caught the flash from Powell's gun, saw him grin. Kyra's body jerked as blood blossomed on her shoulder. Grissom caught her as he fell back against the wall. Sara turned to fire but Brass had beat her to it. One shot, center of the forehead. Powell lay still after that. Finally Sara checked for a pulse. "He's dead." Grissom sat against the wall, holding Kyra, hand to her wound to stem the blood flow. The shot had gone into her shoulder as she shoved him out of the way. She spoke softly before she lost consciousness. "I couldn't let him hurt someone else because of me." * * * Three weeks later, Kyra was standing in her kitchen, contemplating the science experiments in her fridge. Prolonged hospital stays wreaked havoc on leftovers, she thought grimly, shutting the door. The doctors had removed the bullet from her shoulder. She still didn't have full motion back, but that was coming along well with therapy. She'd even accepted mental help this time, knowing that she couldn't keep her barriers up forever. She was slowly learning to put Powell behind her, instead of blocking him out. Catherine and Sara had stopped by the hospital several times, getting her statements for the case file and keeping her up to date on what they found out about Powell. They treated her like a fellow crime scene investigator, and she appreciated it. Sara had driven her home from the hospital yesterday. Gil hadn't stopped by at all. Sara made excuses, saying that there was another big case he was working on. Catherine bluntly said that he was feeling guilty and was being an idiot. Kyra smiled at that, she understood the feeling well. But she never criticized him to either woman. It hurt, though, a lot. She needed to see him, make sure he was okay. Giving up on food for the moment, she headed into her study and sat down at her desk. There was an important decision she had to make. UNLV granted her medical leave for the rest of the semester, but still extended the offer of tenure when she came back in the fall. The Las Vegas sheriff's department offered a consulting position with the crime lab; Sheriff Mobley had been impressed with her official work on the case and her actions at the warehouse. Then her supervisor from Nashville had come to see her while she was at the hospital, bringing with him the well wishes of the whole lab. They'd talked for a long time. Before he left, he mentioned that one of his investigators was leaving in a few months, and that the job was hers if she wanted it. Kyra missed the thrill of solving cases, the satisfaction of putting slime behind bars. Yet the thought of going back to Nashville left her cold inside. She wanted to stay in Las Vegas. To be honest, she wanted to be in Las Vegas with Gil. But the thought of only seeing him again at a distance, as a consultant to the crime lab, hurt too much. She'd rather go back to Nashville to hide from memories more painful than Powell. She picked up the phone and dialed Gil's number. His machine picked up. She hung up and stared at her desk. She tried the crime lab - he wasn't in. She dialed a third number. "Bobby? It's Kyra. Still want me back?" * * * Catherine and Sara stood outside the door to Grissom's office. Both women were furious with him. It had been six weeks since Powell's death, and he still hadn't seen Kyra. He'd gotten more and more withdrawn, spending most of his time at work. They were clearing a hell of a lot of cases, but it wasn't worth it to them if they lost the Grissom they knew. Kyra had called Sara last week, telling her she was moving back to Nashville as soon as the doctors here cleared her for the job with their crime lab. Sara had called Catherine. They'd both gone over to Kyra's to try to talk her out of it, but they could see the determination and hurt in her eyes. Grissom had hurt her worse than Powell, and she was running again. "Are you two using x-ray vision to see into my office?" Grissom came up behind them. They turned to face him. He noticed the determined lines of their faces. "Actually, we came to invite you to a going away party," Sara explained. "Oh? Dare I hope Eckley resigned?" "You wish," Catherine sniped. "No, Kyra Douglas is moving back to Nashville to rejoin their crime lab. We thought we'd give her a send off since she helped us catch Powell." Both women were pleased to note the shock and hurt that crossed Grissom's face at the news. Then the mask they had seen for the past six weeks dropped back into place. "When it is?" "A week from Friday, 7 PM, my house," replied Catherine. "I'll be there." He stepped around them and entered his office, closing the door. "Damn it, I was sure that would get some reaction out of him." Sara clenched her fists in frustration. Catherine sighed. "We tried." * * * He sat in his Tahoe outside her house. The For Sale sign in the front yard had a Sale Pending placard on top. He'd driven here as soon as the shift was over. Fear gnawed at him as he contemplated facing her again. Fear that she might not feel the same way he did. Fear that she might blame him for putting her into harm's way. Fear that he might lose her if he didn't do something. Finally he got out of the car. He walked slowly up to the front door. He could hear her inside, singing along to something. He rang the bell. He heard her approach the door. It seemed like an eternity before she opened it. "Hi." "Hi." She regarded him steadily, both hands on the door, as if she needed the support. "Can I come in?" She stepped back, waiving him in. As she shut the door behind him he noticed in the boxes in her living room, some stacked against the wall, one open near a bookcase. She really was moving. "Catherine and Sara tell me you're going back to Nashville." "They offered me my job back. I miss the city." "What about your teaching career?" She shrugged, moving over to the box and putting movies into it. "I went into teaching because I couldn't take law enforcement anymore. Now that Powell's gone, I can get back into it." He moved closer, saw her hands trembling as she arranged the movies. "Is that what you really want to do?" She stopped and looked up at him. "I don't see anything keeping me in Las Vegas," she said with icy calm. He winced, she was angry with him. She went back to packing, and he almost missed the rest of her sentence, her voice had dropped so much, "I wish there were." Gil reached out and touched her hand where it rested on the shelf. "I'm sorry." She turned to him, tears in her eyes. "For what?" "For being an idiot." She nodded. "I was afraid you'd be angry with me for putting you back into Powell's sights, even though Catherine said he'd been watching you the entire time." "You were doing your job." "I know. But I was still afraid, and angry with myself. So I shut myself off from it, from you." He kicked the box out of the way with his foot and stepped forward, pulling her into his arms. She resisted at first, then collapsed against him. "I was afraid of losing you." "I can deal with what Powell did to me. It'll take time, and help, but I can deal - I've done it before. But I can't handle you shutting me out like that. You never came by, never called, not even a message though Catherine or Sara." She looked up at him, "The mind heals easier than the heart, Gil." She stepped back from him. He brought his hands up to cup her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. "Would your heart be kind enough to allow me a second chance?" She searched his face, seeing the hopefulness written there. God, how she loved this man, despite his faults. She nodded, smiling at the boyish grin that lit up his face. He leaned down and kissed her, pulling her back against him. * * * Catherine, Sara, Nick, Warrick, Grissom, and Brass were waiting in Catherine's living room for the guest of honor to arrive. The two women were still ticked at Grissom, having seen no change in him for the past week. Their gambit had failed. The doorbell rang, heralding Kyra's arrival. She joined the group in the living room, accepting the glass of champagne Nick handed her. Before Sara could start a toast, Kyra spoke. "I wanted to thank you all for what you did to catch Powell. It means a lot to me to know that I have such good friends in Las Vegas." They took turns shrugging off the compliments. Grissom watched her intently. "I also want to thank you, Catherine, for throwing this party. However, I've decided to stay in Las Vegas." Sara let out a whoop and hugged Kyra. The guys looked surprised, then began to congratulate her on staying, offering to help her unpack. Catherine hugged both Kyra and Sara. Only Grissom seemed unperturbed by the news. "So what changed your mind?" he asked. Everyone stepped away and watched her. "Well, three things. One, I decided that tenure at UNLV was too good to pass up. Two, your sheriff offered me a consulting post with the lab, which I will be taking, so I can stay in law enforcement as well, and continue to annoy you all with Latin discourses." She stopped to take a sip of champagne. "What's the third reason?" Warrick asked. Kyra set down her glass and held up her left hand, gold glinting on the ring finger. "My husband lives here." Five jaws dropped in amazement. Gil merely smiled and held out his own left hand to Kyra, matching gold band gleaming. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her in front of all assembled. The entire team applauded. |