Home again, Grissom went through the kitchen cabinets but nothing sparked his appetite. Instead he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and settled on the couch to run through the case. He had a good idea of what had happened, but how could he prove it? Eric Cooper was dead and therefore unable to speak for himself. He could print the interrogation rooms but finding Fromansky and Murdock's prints wouldn't be prohibitive. The station's surveillance tapes would hopefully show the officers with Eric but that still wouldn't prove that they tortured him. He rubbed his eyes wearily, certain he was missing something but he couldn't figure out what.

He was thinking about taking a nap when someone knocked on the door. He pushed himself upright and walked to it, wondering who it was. It was too soon for the tapes to be ready and Catherine had already taken care of anything he might have needed help with... He was still trying to figure it out when he opened the door and found two uniformed officers waiting.

"Dr. Grissom," said the older one, Garcia according to his nametag. "Captain Brass asked that we take you to the station to meet him."

Grissom eyed them warily. "Of course, just give me a moment to get my things."

He turned to go back and retrieve his cell phone and wallet but the two men stepped forward and each grabbed an arm. "I'm sorry sir," the other officer said. "There isn't time."

They pulled him out to the patrol car, pausing only to close the door, and Grissom was forced to follow to keep the pressure off of his injured shoulder. They patted him down quickly then pushed him into the back seat. "What do you want?" He asked but no answer came.

It soon became clear they weren't going to the police station when the car turned east instead of west. He knew it was useless but Grissom felt around the door anyway, hoping for some way to get it open, but of course there was none. Fifteen minutes later they reached the edge of the city, and another thirty minutes after that the pulled into a long unpaved driveway, stopping at an old, rundown ranch house.

Garcia opened the door, his hand resting on the grip of his gun as if daring him to try anything. Grissom climbed out carefully and kept his movement slow. The officers led him to the side of the house where the younger man opened the cellar doors. "Downstairs," Garcia said then followed Grissom down into the empty room while the younger officer stayed above. "Fromansky wants you to think about all the things that could go wrong to your CSIs if they lose the support of the police force. He says he's warned you before but you haven't taken him seriously. Hopefully this will show you that yes, he is serious."

"And you're going along with him? What about your oath to serve and protect?" Grissom argued. "Is Fromansky's reputation worth it?"

Garcia looked aside. "I don't want to see anyone get hurt but I'm tired of cops always getting blamed when something goes wrong. My last partner was a great guy, a great cop, but when he defended himself against a suspect who attacked him he was run out of the force because the attacker's father was a powerful man and according to him, my partner must have provoked him. And since a cop's word is useless these days there was nothing my partner could do to defend himself against the accusations. So no, I don't completely agree with Fromansky's methods but I agree that something has to be done."

"Blame has often fallen on the lower ranks, but the police aren't the only ones who have to deal with it," Grissom pointed out. "I've often been in trouble for doing my job or disagreeing with a superior, especially when a case involves a person of influence."

Garcia looked him in the eye, his expression hard. "Yeah, but you have a rep that lets you get away with it, you have all that fancy education and stuff. Cops don't have that." He turned around and jogged up the stairs, closing the cellar doors behind him. A moment later something scraped across the wood.

Grissom climbed the stairs and pushed against the doors but they didn't budge. He turned his attention to the dirt-crusted windows and found that they were too high. Even if he'd had two good arms and could pull himself up he probably wouldn't have fit through the narrow opening. He turned around and leaned against the wall, letting his eyes adjust to the murky light, and after a moment saw a second set of stairs in the far corner. At the top he found another door, which he suspected led to the house. The doorknob was locked so he pounded on the door with his fist, hoping to find a weak spot around the frame, but several of his knocks produced a solid thud - something was behind the door. Even if he managed to break or pick the lock he still wouldn't have been able to open it.

He walked halfway down the stairs and found an almost comfortable spot to sit and leaned against the wall carefully. But although his body was still his mind kept churning, trying to come up with a way to get out. He came up with nothing before he slipped into a light doze.

"Hey Grissom!" Brass yelled and pounded on the door. "Come on, I know you're tired but open the door!" He pounded again and waited. "I have the tapes and you're really going to want to see them!" He yelled after a moment. When he still couldn't hear anything pulled out his cell phone and dialed Grissom's number. Within seconds he could hear it ringing through the door and hung up. "Damnit Gil," he muttered as he turned around and left the porch. "Couldn't you've at least taken your phone?"

He stalked to the neighbor's door. "Excuse me," he told the woman who answered and held up his badge. "I'm looking for the man who lives next door. Have you seen him leave in the past few hours?"

"Oh," the woman said, blocking a young boy from going outside as she examined the shield. "Is he in any trouble?"

"Not at all," he assured her. "I just have some information he needs to have but he left his cell phone behind."

"I'm sorry, but I haven't seen him since the officers were here earlier," she answered, picking up the boy when he refused to be restrained. "If that's all, I'm a little busy right now…"

"Just one more question," Brass promised. "Did you get a good look at the officers? Or maybe the number on their car?"

She shook her head.

"Police car!" The boy said.

"Yeah, that's right," Brass told him with a smile. "Did you look at the police car when it was here?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically.

"Good. And did that police car have any numbers on the side?"

He nodded again. "1 2 3 4," he said firmly.

"You sure?" Brass asked and looked to his mom for help.

"Honey, are those the numbers you saw on the car or are you just counting?" She asked the boy.

"1 2 3 4," he said again. "Just like this." He reached into a back pocket and pulled out a toy police car, complete with 1234 on the side. "But the one had a bigger line on top."

"Thanks buddy," Brass told him. "You've been a big help."

"Is something wrong?" The woman asked and gripped her son a little tighter.

"Not at all, just some miscommunications," he assured her. "Thank you for your help and have a nice day."

Grissom woke up when the cellar doors opened again. He stood up and walked to the bottom of the stairs, prepared to face whoever entered. He wasn't surprised when Fromansky and Murdock, both wearing civilian clothes, came down.

"People are going to be looking for me soon if they aren't already," he pointed out to his captors.

"How many times have you wandered away from a crime scene without telling anyone?" Fromansky scoffed. "By now, no one thinks it's strange. They'll wait before calling out the search parties, which gives us plenty of time."

Grissom had to admit they were right. "What do you hope to accomplish?"

"We want you to drop your investigation," Fromansky answered. "Tell the sheriff you couldn't find any proof."

"I can't do that."

"Do I have to remind you again of what could happen? Have you really thought about it? Imagine one of your CSIs, say Willows, is investigating a rape. She confronts a suspect at his home where he grabs her and takes her inside. Oops, the police got distracted. They don't notice she's gone for a full two minutes. Now what do you think a rapist is going to do with a fine woman like CSI Willows?"

"Are you truly willing to put someone else's life on the line because of the truth?" Grissom asked. "Do you really expect the entire police department to stand behind you once they learn what you've done?"

Murdock growled and pulled a knife out of his back pocket. "No one will know if you can't speak!" He said as he stepped forward, slashing with the knife. Grissom raised his left arm in defense; the knife went through his sleeve and into the skin.

Fromansky grabbed Murdock's arm and pulled him back. "Not yet," he hissed in his ear then turned back to their captive. "Think about it, Grissom. Think about Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, Sara Sidle, Catherine Willows, even your little lab rat trainee Greg Sanders. Think about the dangers they face on the street and what could happen without backup. Do you really want to be responsible?"

"I can't be responsible for your actions," Grissom gritted out, holding his injured arm close. "But I also know that there are a lot of good people on the force, officers who won't let politics interfere in their duties. I have thought about what could happen ever since you first threatened me during the Kleinfeld case, and I don't think you realize that not all cops are like you. Most of them believe in their oath to serve and protect. They didn't join the force in an attempt to feel more powerful."

"I joined to do my duty," Fromansky protested fiercely. "Just like I joined to do my duty in 'Nam. But all the rules and restrictions make that real hard to do when the perps have more protection than we do."

"We all have rules to follow and those rules protect the innocents, the ones we're here to serve."

"He's never going to understand," Murdock told Fromansky as he sheathed the knife and put it away. He reached under his shirttail and pulled out the gun tucked in his waistband.

Fromansky stopped him with a touch. "This is your last chance, Grissom. Is it really worth ruining a lifetime of hard work for one mistake?"

"Was Eric Cooper's life worth ruining?" Grissom asked back.

"We had reason to think he was guilty."

"You had only the barest of circumstantial evidence. That's how the rules protect the innocent."

"You're going to have casualties in any war," Fromansky said.

"And you're going to be one unless you know which side to fight for," Murdock added, raising the weapon.

"Are you willing to risk your life for one case?" Fromansky asked.

Grissom glared at the two men and straightened up, forcing his injured arm to relax. "I won't give up."

The air was tense and silent except for their breathing. Grissom stood tall, almost daring them to shoot. Murdock held the gun steady, aiming for Grissom's heart. Fromansky stared at Grissom as if trying to decide whether shooting him was the only option left.

Eventually Fromansky turned to Murdock and Grissom held his breath, waiting for the command to shoot, but before he could say anything another voice sounded down the stairs, yelling "Police!"

Murdock turned towards the sound and Grissom moved, running forward and tackling him from the side so that they fell into Fromansky as well. The police, led by Brass, ran down the stairs with guns drawn and Grissom rolled away to give them room.

Brass watched a moment to make sure Fromansky and Murdock were cooperating then knelt down at Grissom's side. "We gotta stop meeting like this," he said with a faint smile.

Grissom chuckled then groaned, gripping his injured shoulder. "Good idea," he said roughly.

"Did they hurt you?"

"Just a cut, but I don't think tackling suspects is what the doctor had in mind when he said 'take it easy'."

"Can you get up?" At Grissom's nod he helped him stand. "Come on, let's get you checked out."

"How did you find me?" Grissom asked as while they waited in the ER.

"Neighbor's kid saw the car that picked you up and remembered its number. At first Garcia denied everything, said he'd been in a different car, but when I showed him the tapes from the station's surveillance he rolled."

"What did the tapes show?"

"Fromansky and Murdock dragging the kid through the station and into an unused office, then back out again hours later. Warrick and I checked out the office, it'd been stripped and made into a pretty convincing interrogation room. We also found fingerprints from all three men in there."

"No wonder they were so desperate for me to drop the case," Grissom mused. "They knew the evidence would be easy to find."

"Grissom?" The nurse called and the two men stood up to follow her.

"Let's get you stitched up and I'll take you home. You're going to actually stay there this time, right? No more running around?"

"Yes, Jim. I think I might even be ready for a vacation."

Jim clutched at his chest but he ignored the detective's theatrics and followed the nurse into the room.

End