Humiliation is Sweet revenge

Humiliation is Sweet Revenge 04

Author: KhiDax

Disclaimer: see part one! Me no! unfortunately:o(

Archive: you want it take it! Just let me know okay?

Dedication: As usual great thanks to AbyKitten and VividlyBlue you are the best!
Also Jaclyn and Erin for giving me the incentive to continue
dbacdback: Yes please, I need to know if it’s worth while writing more, but please no flames it might melt my chocolate and I’d have to go without! :o(

Part 4


Grissom spun round and took a few steps a way from her. He didn’t want Catherine to see the anxiety, fear and confusion he was sure were written on his face. He felt her touch on his arm and he flinched. Would he ever be able to let anyone touch him again without wanting to run and hide?

“Gil?” he heard her say. God how he loved the sound of her voice, it was like dawn breaking after a long stormy night. “Gil look at me, please?” she asked, her concern for him ringing in her voice.

He turned slowly but made no attempt to close the distance between them. She looked worried, upset even. For him? How could she not after…

Catherine moved closer to him and he forced himself to stay still, not to shy back from her. He didn’t want to hurt her, not Catherine, but he was frightened.

“Catherine….” He began, but she stopped his words with a deep, passionate kiss, holding onto his arms so tightly he couldn’t run away.

“Why?” he asked breathlessly when they broke apart.

Catherine smiled, “Excuse? You looked like you needed it.” She saw the shadow chase the light from his eyes and his face sadden. “Real reason?” she added, her hands cupping his face, “because I’ve wanted to do that for so long, but my timing has always been bad.”

Grissom stared at her, stunned. He brought his hands up to hers and taking them from his face, clasped them tightly in his own. “How can you say that after what I just revealed in that room?”

He stormed a way, putting the autopsy table between them. “After all that why would you even want to look at me?”

Tears traced a slow river down Catherine’s cheeks and anger sparked in her eyes. She hated seeing him like this. This vibrant, intelligent, and yes, damned sexy man brought so low, belittling himself. She’d kill the bastards who had done this to him. She kill them with her own bare hands!

“Gil, this says nothing about you as a man. Doesn’t even come close to who you are,” she told him, trying to break through to him, “other than the fact those sick bastards used your body for their own sick pleasure.” She knew by his body language and the way he wouldn’t meet her eye he wasn’t believing any of this.

“This isn’t you Gil,” she persisted, “it doesn’t even come close to how any of us feel about you or how much we respect you. This is all about them!” she almost shouted desperately trying to reach him, to convince him of the truth, “You didn’t ask them to do this, you didn’t even go willingly.”

“Didn’t I?” he snapped back, “There was no loaded gun at my head. I didn’t even have proof that what they told me was true.” She could hear the self-loathing and the pain in his voice. It broke her heart to hear it.

Slowly she moved round the table, trying not to startle him and make him move away from her. He still stared at the table, refusing to look anywhere else.

“You couldn’t take that chance, people might have died.” She touched his arm and he jumped, looking at her face his eyes wide with confusion. “Gil, talk to me?”

He snatched his arm away from her, storming toward the other end of the room, but not before she heard him mutter. “Damn it, not this as well, not now. Aren’t things bad enough without this?”

Clarity slapped her in the face like ice water running down her back. She thought back to the courtroom, remembering what had happened then. She ran after him and spun him to face her, “Gil, can you hear me?” She watched his face flush, then saw the almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Before she could say anything the room door swung open and Warrick was there, his face a mass of concern and anger. “Gris, Catherine. The cell phone rang and a guy sounded really pissed the boss didn’t answer.”

Catherine saw the confusion on Grissom’s face and realised that Warrick was too far away for old older man to lip read. She glanced over her shoulder at her colleague and answered, “Buy us a few more minutes, okay?”

Warrick nodded and left the room. She could hear him running along the corridor back to Grissom’s office.

All Grissom had been able to hear was “’kay?” as his hearing slowly returned. It scared him so much when that happened, because he knew that there would come a time when his hearing would never return. He fleetingly remembered the time he had sat in his office wearing earplugs to see how it felt to hear. He dreaded when that silence would be all that he ever heard, forever.

“Gil,” Catherine began slowly.

“It’s all right, Catherine,” he told her, “I can hear you now. It comes and goes without warning,” he answered, stalling any other questions she might ask. “What did Warrick want?”

“The voice is back,” she said succinctly and saw him shudder at her choice of words. How did she know that was how he had referred to the man in his head? All the time they had him it was how he had distinguished him from the others. He sighed, trying unsuccessfully to relax. Of course she didn’t, it was just a logical statement.

“We better head back then,” he answered, reluctantly,” I don’t think he likes to be kept waiting.”

Catherine took his arm as the walked out of the autopsy room. She felt him tense at first, then ease up. She would have admired his lienlience if she didn’t know it was an act, for the team and for her. As they drew near the Trace Lab they both automatically glanced in to see what Greg was up to. Catherine felt Grissom stumble and try to take a step backwards.

“Gil, what is it, what’s wrong?” she asked, trying to see what was frightening him for she could feel him shaking. Then she saw the items lined up on the cart beside Greg’s table. A cane with blood on it and a wide range of sexual aids similarly spattered.

“How did he get them?” Grissom gasped, “How did they get here?” She heard the sob he swallowed as he sagged back against the wall.

“Stay right here, Gil,” she told him, “I’ll find out what’s going on.”

She walked smartly into the lab and confronted Greg. “Where did these come from?” she demanded.

Greg jumped and looked startled at her entrance, “They were left at reception,” he aineained, adding, “The receptionist was told they had something to do with one of Grissom’s cases, why?”

Catherine sighed, raised her eyes ceiling ward and then closed them for a moment. Finally she looked back at Greg, “I want you to run every test you can think of on them and get as much information as you possibly can,” she ordered, not that she thought they would have much luck. Grissom’s attackers must be pretty sure of themselves if they’d hand them over to them. She could but hope, Greg had worked miracles a time or two before. “Most of what you’ll find will no doubt be victim DNA, but do what you can. The victim is known to us and is in our system.”

Greg just stared at her, hands hovering over the bloodied cane. “Who’s the vic’?” he asked.

Catherine sighed, “Grissom.”

Greg looked at her in shock. “Grissom!” he exclaimed, shaking his head in denial as he added, “no way! I saw him, he’s dealing.”

“Catherine, are you coming?” They both heard Grissom’s voice coming from the doorway.

Greg jumped in front of the cart, trying to block the items from view and looking very flustered.

Grissom scowled, “Greg, what are you doing?” his exasperation coloured his voice.

Hurriedly trying to say something, he uttered the first words to come into his mind. “Me? Nothing! Evidence tracing, tracing evidence. Nothing!”

Catherine shook her head, smothering a chuckle. ‘Nope,’ she thought, ‘Gil hasn’t lost his touch.’

As she and Grissom left the lab they both heard Greg mutter, “Waaaaayy more nervous.”

When they opened the door to Grissom’s office they could hear Warrick talking on Grissom’s cell phone, “Look man, I told you he’d be right back and here he is.”

Grissom walked over to his desk and reluctantly took the phone. He listened for a moment, “Wait a minute you said a bomb,” he growled into the receiver, then he quieted. Looking over to Brass he stated, “Jim, there are five bombs in the basement. They’re level with this office, the break room and the Trace Lab,” he pointed to the floor as he spoke. Brass lifted his phone to alert his men but Grissom stalled him, “Don’t touch them yet,” he gulped almost noiselessly, “they have to be disarmed in a specific order or they’ll all blow. Apparently I haven’t earned that information yet.”

He then turned all his attention back to the voice on the cell phone, listening intently. Suddenly his eyes widened, his face lost all colour and he threw the phone on the desk, “No!” he shouted startlingly everyone and rose from the desk, “God no, please not that.” He paced to the back wall of the room and rested his hands on it, leaning into them. They could all see the slight shaking of his shoulders, the only sign of his silent weeping.

Catherine grabbed the phone, barking into it, “What do you want?” She listened for a moment then gasped, “You’re one sick bastard.” Silence followed then she asked, “Give us some time?” then, “okay.” she hung up the phone.

She motioned the others to retake their seats and walked slowly up to Grissom, resting her hand lightly on his trembling shoulder.

“I can’t do it Cath,” she could hear the tears in his roughened voice, “I just can’t do it.”

Moving round in front of him and ducking under his arm, she came face to face with him. “I know it will be hard, honey,” she consoled him, “but someone would have to at least try and gather the evidence, isn’t it better if it’s us?”

Grissom looked her in the eye, all the hurt, fear and shame shining there for her to see. “How can you say that?” he asked her, “how can you expect me to… to…” he couldn’t finish the sentence.

She reached up and grasped both of his arms, the only place she could think to hold him that wouldn’t hurt. Leaning her head towards him, she rested her forehead on his. “We’re gonna get through this Gil Grissom, you and me.” He could see the resolve and, strangely to him, the love in her eyes. For him? “Those bastards are gonna get what’s coming to them,” she vowed.

Then in a louder voice, taking complete charge of the situation, Catherine gave her orders. “Nick get pen and paper you’re taking the notes. Sara get assault and rape kits and remember to get the camera. Jim get your men moving and close those damn blinds I don’t want any gawkers. Warrick you’ll be collecting the evidence.”

Stroking Grissom’s face and running her other hand through his hair, she kissed him lightly. “Let’s get this over with honey,” she told him, “and you keep your eyes strictly on me, okay?” She could see how reluctant he was, but they both knew that for everyone to get out alive it had to be done, he simply didn’t have a choice.

“Catherine,” Warrick broke in, “can I speak to you a moment?”

She saw the concerned look in the other man’s eyes as she looked over Grissom’s slumped shoulder and went over to him, squeezing Grissom’s arm reassuringly as she did so. “What’s up?” she asked, thinking to herself, ‘what the hell else can go wrong now?’

Warrick cleared his throat and rubbed his chin with his hand before he spoke, “I think whoever’s calling Gris has this place bugged, maybe even a camera in here,” he told her. Catherine automatically glanced quickly around the room, but Grissom kept it so crowded and cluttered it was almost impossible to see where it could be.

“What makes you think so?” she asked, not doubting him for a minute. It made sense, if they wanted Grissom humiliated they’d want to be able to see it or at the very least hear it.

Warrick sighed, “Although the guy on the phone was angry Grissom didn’t answer, he didn’t seem surprised,” the anger deepened in his warm brown eyes as he added, “on top of that he called me boy.”

Catherine blinked, now there was a term she had grown to hate growing up in the south. She never felt it was merited and could never understand why people degraded themselves by using it, “Did this guy have a southern accent?” she asked.

Warrick shook his head, “No accent at all that I could hear and that usually means lessons and that could mean money.”

Catherine just nodded. That was one bit of information she’d have to check with Grissom, but she didn’t think that now was the time to do it.

Sara and Nick returned together, sporting all itemitems they would need. Everyone knew what was coming next, but no one seemed eager to start, or even seemed to know where to start.

Moving back to Grissom’s side, Catherine took his arm saying, “Come on, honey. Let’s get this over with shall we?”

Walking round to the front of his desk, Grissom kept his back to them. He stood very still at first gazing only at Catherine. Jerkily he removed his jacket, his shirt awkwardly following. After that he stopped, reluctant to continue.

“That’s enough for now, boss,” Warrick said, trying to keep his voice level and business like as well as drown out the gasps the other three made. All the time Catherine was talking to Grissom, reassuring him, in a voice too quiet for the other to hear.

Brass stood staring at Grissom’s torso. The brief glimpse he had caught out in the corridor when the two CSI’s had arrived had not prepared him for this. Grissom was a mass of broken welts that started at his hair and went all the way down to the top of his pants, maybe even beyond from what he could tell. Brass had seen people do a lot of things to one another in his years as a police officer, but to see such marks on a man he called friend, that upset him much more than even he was prepared for.

Nick looked sick, but there was a deep burning fury in his dark eyes as he catalogued what he could see. Sara had tears running freely down her face as she photographed the mess. God this was Grissom, her boss, her friend. If she ever got within reach of the animals who had done this she’d kill them.

Warrick’s face paled despite his dark skin and he hesitated unsure of where to start. There were so many wounds. Sure they had all seen worse things than this since becoming criminalists, but this was Grissom, this was the boss man their friend. ‘Hell,’ Warrick thought. ‘He has made this team more like a family than a unit. How could anyone do this to him?’

Catne cne could tell the waiting was lying hard on Grissom. She could see by the look in his eyes. He thought they were judging him and finding him wanting, or worse than that the very sight of him revolted them.

“Just start at the top and work your way down, Warrick,” she stated not taking her eyes off of Grissom for an instant. When did he become so easy to read, she wondered. He had always been so reserved, so private, giving of his friendship prudently as if always waiting to be rejected out of hand. Did he realise how much he meant to this department? To this unit? To the very people in this room. Was he even aware that these people would willingly have traded places with him so he wouldn’t have had to go through this ordeal? She almost wished the others weren’t being so quiet, that they would voice their thoughts instead of trying to hide their feelings from him.

“It’s okay, honey,” she whispered to Grissom, “they’re just in shock.” She caught the look of surprise in his eyes and explained, “It’s one thing to be told about what happened and another to the the results right in front of you. Especially when it’s a friend.”

Warrick started to swab a particularly bad area on Grissom’s back and part of the swab caught on a ragged piece of skin. He stopped immediately, forcing himself not to panic. He saw Grissom jerk his head up in pain and was surprised when he didn’t hear the gasp that should have accompanied it, but he concentrated on delicately removing the swab without tearing anymore skin.

What none of them could see for Grissom’s body was that he had started to gasp aloud. Catherine, however, had smothered it with a kiss. His tormentors may have found a way to watch what they hoped would be his complete humiliation, but she was damned if she would let them get anything extra.

Grissom sighed as she released his lips a mild look of panic and confusion colouring his face, “Catherine, yoouldouldn’t.” he said, a faint tinge of embarrassment adding a hint of pink to his skin.

Catherine smiled, “I’ll take any and every excuse for kissing you as often as I can to make up for wasted time.” She watched the panic grow stronger in his eyes, “I’m not asking for anything I return, Gil,” she assured him, “not until you’re completely recovered and confident enough to do so if you wish.” She caressed his lips with her fingertips, “Let’s get through this first, then we’ll take baby steps. One day at a time, no promises, no pressure, okay?” That seemed to reassure him slightly, until Warrick spoke.

“That’s it, I’ve got everything I can from your neck and back, boss,” he tried to make his voice sound light and matter of fact, but he saw the tension pull at Grissom’s neck and shoulders.

Sara checked that all the swabs were marked and dated and placed them in the box along with Nick’s notes for this part. The next step would be more awkward for them, and much more difficult for Grissom. She wished she could save him from this but knew there was nothing she could do but her job.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Grissom tried to unbuckle his belt, but his hands were trembling too much and he just kept fumbling at it. Moving his hands out of the way, Catherine did it for him, as well as opening the button and letting down the zip. The rest she left for him to do in his own time. She didn’t want to rush him, but she never let him break eye contact with her and kept squeezing his arms in reassurance. Her eyes filled with tears. Seeing the bruises on his torso had been bad enough, but when he tried to hide the burn marks left from the electric shocks that was just too much. “No shame, honey,” she whispered to him, “no shame here at all.”

Grissom wished he could believe what she said, but all that kept going through his mind was that he had trust himself up like a thanksgiving turkey and let his captors do what they would. He didn’t seem to remember that he’d had no choice or how he had fought against his restraints with every strength he could muster.

Then he thought of the things lying in Greg’s lab. Of how they’d used them on him, how they’d laughed each time he had cried out in pain. The way they had belittled him for begging them to stop. Of his cries of panic and fear every time they showed him what they were going to use on him next. He trembled he mhe memory of the tearing and burning as they had plunged into him, ripping pieces of skin away each time they were finished. He had never known the body could survive as much pain as his had in the twenty-four hours they had spent with him, and he prayed to a God he was no longer sure he believed in that it would never happen again.

That was when he remembered something one of them had jeered at him and suddenly a spark of hope bloomed in his mind, “STD’s,” he muttered.

Catherine’s face frowned and she stared at him, “What did you say, Gil?” she asked, not sure she had heard him right.

“He said now I’d have to worry about all those nasty STDs, maybe even AIDS,” he told her, quietly adding. “Catherine, I don’t think they bothered to use condoms so they could frightened me more.”

Catherine gasped, slowly taking in this piece of information, then snapping authoritatively, “Warrick, do the rape kit. Now!”

Grissom didn’t like it. Having his captors mess up his anus had been bad enough, God it made a prostate exam seem like a walk in the park, but this? To willingly let someone probe around, even if it was to collect evidence.

“It’s okay, Gil,” Catherine told him, trying to ease what was about to happen, “Warrick won’t hurt you and this could help us catch them.”

They both knew neither statement was strictly true. With the amount of damage he knew had been done to him, it was unlikely that Warrick would manage to get any pain free samples. Even if he did, they would then have to be lucky enough for the owner of that DNA to be listed in CODIS. What were the chances of that?

Warrick stood waiting patiently as Catherine helped Grissom lie over his desk. She held up her hand to stall the younger man, not allowing him to start the procedure until she was on the other side and had herself at eye level with his boss.

Sara handed her colleague the metal speculum, “Warm it up a bit first, Warrick,” she told him. He eyed her curiously, “Trust me, they’re always too damn cold for comfort.”

Catherine smiled and nodded her agreement. She noticed Grissom closing his eyes and she began to brush her fingers over his forehead, caressing him and trying to comfort him.

Warrick inserted the speculum into the older man’s anus, hearing a small hiss of discomfort as he shone a small torch at the shaded area. Then he grimaced and spoke without thinking, “Damn, they went for maximum pain and damage. They didn’t even try to prepare him.”

“Those bastards!” Sara and Nick growled in unison. They were both so angry that neither seemed to notice they had spoken as one.

Grissom heard the anger in all three of their voices and opened his eyes to look at Catherine. She could see the pain and discomfort there but also a hint of surprise.

“I told you that no one blamed you,” she informed him, “they just want to get the ones responsible and send them down for a very long time.” She watched him slowly accept this information. Then he set his jaw and gritted his teeth, trying to control the jerky movements of his body and hold back his cries of pain as Warrick swabbed the area extensively. Both men gave audible sighs of relief when the procedure was over.

As Grissom straightened, Warrick spoke up, regret and hesitation in his voice. If they were going to do this they had to do it right. “You told us that they beat you and used you for oral sex.” It was more statement than question, but Grissom knew what was coming next. All the colour faded from his face again, he didn’t know if he could do this part. Catherine ran round the desk and took a firm grip of his hands. Slowly, trying not to show his embarrassment and shame, he turned to face the younger CSI. He saw Nick and Sara standing behind Warrick and Brass standing guard over the locked door, not looking at anyone.

“Some of the bruises on your chest and abdomen have got shoe treads,” Warrick commented trying hard to act business like. “One or two are quite distinctive even,” Sara held the camera up to her eye and began snapping of photos of the unusual patterning.

“I think your tormentors might just have made another mistake,” Nick commented, a vindictive smile shadowing the lower half of his face, but never reaching his eyes.

They all jumped when the door handle moved. Nick and Warrick coming to stand in front of Grissom hiding him from view.

“Come back later,” Brass growled at the unfortunate who had picked that moment to try and enter, “we’re in conference.”

“It’s Greg,” a small voice said from the opposite side of the door, his tone cracking on the last letter of his name, “I think I’ve found something.”

Brass looked at the others, it was clear he had no intention of opening the door and allowing the young man to enter, a fact that Grissom was heartily grateful for, but he was obviously unsure of what else to do.

“Gives us ten, Grego,” Nick responded, “and one of us will be right over.”

A muffled hmph came from the door, then nothing. Just as Warrick was trying to work up the nerve to do a swab of his boss’ penis for foreign DNA, Nick’s pager beeped, scaring the life out of everyone.

He quickly rifled it out of his pocket and read the message. “Greg,” he muttered, catching the angry looks on Catherine and Brass’ faces he quickly added. “He’s found minute traces of blood on one of the… ahem… implements that doesn’t belong to you, Gris,” he informed his boss, “it was adhered to a small piece of latex he thinks came from a glove, he’s running it through the system.”

This brought a smile to most of the faces in the room; maybe their luck was turning. Grissom was the only one who wasn’t smiling. Much as he wanted these men caught, he didn’t relish the thought of having to face them in court and tell a jury just what they had done to him.

As if reading his thoughts, Catherine assured him, “We’re going to bury them in so much evidence there won’t be any need for a trial, just a sentencing.

He would loved to have been able to believe her, but after all the trouble his attackers had gone to he very much doubted they would save him from the added humiliation of a trial, jury, gallery and all.

Once they had all settled again Catherine noticed Warrick’s hesitation. Realising what was causing it, she wordlessly took the swab from him. Standing directly in front of Grissom she asked, “Are you ready for this?” He swallowed, took a deep breath and nodded. With the briefest amount of fuss and the maximum of efficiency Catherine took all the swabs they needed from his genitals.

As Grissom reached for his clothes, dying to recover his privacy and anonymity, Sara spoke up, “Sorry boss, but were gonna need pictorial evidence of the bruising andns ins in that area as well.”

If things hadn’t been so strained, Catherine thought she might have laughed. It was difficult to tell who was the most embarrassed by this statement. Every face in the room had a degree of red in it.

“And are those the clothes you were wearing?” Nick piped up.

“No,” Catherine answered, pulling out the plastic bag she had remembered to bring out of the car with her when they’d arrive, “this is what I found him in.” She held it up displaying the blanket. She tried not to blush as she remembered it had actually been lying on the floor and Grissom had been naked.

“They cut my clothes from me and burned them,” Grissom stated in a toneless controlled voice. No one said anything.

Once Grissom was dressed and seemed to have recovered a modicum of composure, Brass unlocked the door and let the three younger CSIs take all the evidence to trace. It would be a few hours at least before they heard anything from Greg.

Brass suddenly realised that this whole investigation had taken the better part of four hours and thatprisprisingly he was beginning to feel hungry. “Have either of you eaten?” he asked feeling slightly foolish to be thinking of food at a time like this.

Catherine and Grissom both answered in the negative. “Well I’m going on the food run, what can I get you?”

Catherine ordered her usual turkey club no bacon, but Grissom shook his head. “Gil be reasonable you couldn’t have eaten for over twenty-four hours. You must need food by now,” she told him angrily.

He shrugged his shoulders, then grimaced at the pain it caused him. “They kept shooting me up with what I think were amphetamines,” he replied, “my stomach doesn’t feel ready for any food yet.”

Catherine’s stomach turned to ice at Grissom’s flippant revelation. They had all noticed, and Sara had photographed, long lines of needle marks on his arms and legs, Warrick had even taken blood samples but until now Grissom hadn’t commented on them. That was something else that would have to be handled. It was more than likely that they had addicted him to them. Well she was damn sure that was one situation he was not going to face alone; she didn’t care what he said.

“Bring him back whatever soup they have,” she told Brass ignoring her friend’s comments, “it’ll be easier on his stomach and his body will need the liquids.”

Once Brass left they sat for a moment just looking at one another. “Now what?” Catherine asked.

Grissom continued to stare at her, then simply stated, “Now, we wait.”

TBC