Kaia was sore, but the way she drifted nicely on the morphine made her care very little about that. What she did care about, what she couldn't get out of her mind, was the dream that had startled her awake, despite the heavy cloud weighing down her body. Her sleeping mind had shown her Sydney trapped, somewhere indeterminate, in a box in the dark, bleeding and crying silently to herself, unable to get out. She was terrified and lonely, and her fingers were all broken, to stop her from playing music.
Kaia clenched her eyes shut, determined not to cry; she had never been a big crier, not even as a baby. The only time she really cried was when she was angry, like when Hank had broken her ankle. As far as she could see, crying didn't solve any problems. And right now there seemed to be a lot of problems. For one thing, her sister was definitely missing. She remembered with vivid clarity every moment of that disaster, from the second Sophie had screamed, knowing that something was about to go wrong, right up until she had lost consciousness. She remembered the dialogue that passed between Catherine, Lindsey and Doc as she lay on the ground, hazy and not really there, and even the sounds of Sophie concentrating on breathing from where she was lying next to her on the drive. Even the crunch of gravel as Doc crutched his way between his patients, trying to tend to everyone at once. And then there was a huge gap.
What else did she remember? Her father had confirmed the dreams that had rattled around her drugged mind, confusing her. Sydney was really missing. And then Mihai and Ben had been talking to her. She would do anything for Ben; she trusted him implicitly. And Mihai, he was her best friend in the whole word. They told each other anything and everything; they did homework together, they watched movies together and they talked about their futures and where they wanted to go. They shared an impossible goal, to be Olympic Champions, and would do anything to help each other get there.
They cheered each other on bad days, and told bad jokes and stories on the good. Mihai was teaching Kaia about Romania; its culture and language, and Kaia was helping him with French, the only class preventing him from maintaining a 4.0 GPA. He was calm, levelheaded and utterly sensible. He always knew what to do, and Kaia wished he was here now to help her get her facts straight. Because, despite the fact that she hated math and science, Kaia liked logic, just like Sophie and her parents. She liked to have a plan that told her where she was going, and what, exactly, she had to do to get there. And Kaia was nothing if not self-disciplined.
She tried to concentrate yet again, her eyebrows knitting slightly in the middle. It was a supreme effort with all the morphine in her body, but supreme effort was exactly her forte. The first thing she decided was that the narcotics had to go; pain relief was fine, great in this instance actually, because she still wasn't sure her shoulder was really all there, but she was not putting up with this fogginess any longer.
So Syd was missing. Well, that was awful, but Catherine, who was too nosy by far, would be looking for her, and Kaia reckoned she was quite glad about the nosiness at that moment because it would go a long way toward helping her find Syd. And Catherine wasn't alone either. Brass, who Kaia thought was wonderful, would be helping her, and Nick, whose strange Texas accent made her laugh, and Warrick, who was pretty good with the guitar, would as well. Even rude Hodges, who she hadn't liked, she was sure would be helping.
Ok, so people were looking for Syd. People who were very good at that sort of thing. So she didn't need to worry about that. She could worry about the dream, but that didn't seem practical. It was just a dream. Wasn't it? She had no idea where Syd was or if she was alright, and that was worrying. That was something that didn't have a logical answer. Except, maybe Sophie knew? The twins were really good at that. Her parents always asked one where the other was if one of them needed to be found for dinner. And Sophie was here, in bed next to her.
Kaia opened her eyes and rolled her head to the side, looking for her oldest sister. Sophie was there, with her arm raised in a sling and a breathing tube stuck in her nostrils like the one that was itching Kaia so badly. But she wasn't awake; she was sleeping, and not naturally. Kaia could tell because she was flat on her back and Sophie always slept curled on her side or on her front with Duck snuggled up to her. Duck was like a teddy bear; she would just lie in anyone's arms and purr as long as they stroked her. She was the happiest cat Kaia had ever met. Even Fuzz wasn't that happy.
Thinking about her own cat made Kaia feel sad. She wanted her here with her. Fuzz was warm and soothing most of the time. She could be grumpy sometimes, and she would wander off if she got bored, but she always came back. Feeling suddenly grumpy herself Kaia looked the other way; mom was asleep in her bed and daddy was sitting on the end of it, his head in his hands.
"Dad," she squeaked out, scowling as her throat burned with the effort. His head snapped up and he smiled when he saw her staring at him, but not before she got a good look at the anguish in his face.
"Hey," he said gently, moving over to her bed. She gave him a slightly unsteady sign for up and he raised her bed about forty-five degrees. She sighed with the considerable relief on her shoulder and the ability to see her surroundings. He perched on the edge of the bed and slid over so he was sitting next to her; Kaia slid sideways slightly to rest against his chest, letting her head fall against his shoulder as she closed her eyes. Gil wrapped a strong arm around her and held her close; Kaia relaxed, despite her anguished heart and mind. Her dad was good at that. They sat quietly for a long time, cuddled together on the bed.
…
She'd heard the gun shots before the chloroform had made her pass out, and the shouting from the house. She could remember very distinctly hearing Sophie screaming; it was the last thing she could remember. Now, lying in the cold hard shell of porcelain that was her bathtub prison, she wondered if those screams were of fear or pain. Had Sophie been hit? Had any of her family been hit? All of them? Were they were hurt? What if she got out of here and they were dead? The thoughts swirled in her head, scaring her more than the room she was in and the men outside it.
She wished her body would cooperate with her; if she could get up she might be able to reach the door and see if the hinge pins could be worked out. But whatever they had given her had made it impossible to stagger more than the couple of feet to the toilet, and even that was more of a slither and pull of her arms than actually walking. And walking was out of the question now; the cast that had meant crutches couldn't even be used to walk on after the mess they had made of it. It was so crushed, bent and broken that she might as well not have it. She was loath to think of the state of her ankle underneath.
But in the grand scheme of things it didn't seem that important anymore. Not with the state of the rest of her body. And her family. What had happened to them? What had happened to her cat? Tears threatened, but she pushed them back with a silent snarl. She couldn't afford to lose any moisture from her body; instead she reached for the cold water. It was getting harder and harder to remind herself to drink when her head was such a muddle.
…
Jim sat with a cup of coffee going cold beside him and the remnants of a salad that he had opened, eaten and forgotten about a long time ago. Instead, his eyes were slowly blurring the information on the computer screen in front of him as he worked away at a project he had started hours before. Most people thought he was a great detective, but an old and cantankerous luddite. That suited him fine; in fact it allowed him to keep certain skills in his arsenal hidden. Only an extremely small handful of people knew that, around the time he had been demoted from the head of the CSI nightshift back to detective, he had decided he needed a hobby. Rather accidentally, he found himself getting hooked on video games in an effort to relax and wind down at the end of the day. That interest had grown over time, to encompass computing in general and then later on virtual security, hacking and other covert activities.
Now, after eight years of continuing study and practice, he was easily comfortable with searching for any links, discrepancies and other oddities in the company records. He was finding nothing. Maybe Jacob was right and this was all just a coincidence.
…
Catherine sat in the cafeteria with Grissom, watching as he systematically tore a bagel into equally sized minute pieces without appearing to know he was doing it while she related what they knew so far. She gently pushed a cup of coffee towards him, hoping he would at least take a few sips.
"I'm sorry I haven't got anything more for you," Catherine sighed, running a hand through her hair in dismay. "I'm sorry this is happening to you, I wish I could make it all go away." He looked up at her and offered a ghost of an attempted smile. The expression in his eyes made her want to cry.
"You said you had some questions?" he shrugged, looking for something, anything, that might help. Catherine nodded and pulled a file out of her bag. She showed him the same photographs that Alex and Eviee had seen.
"Do you recognize any of these men?" he looked long and hard, willing there to be something there that might give them a lead. There wasn't, and he shook his head in defeat.
"No."
"Ok. About Sydney's cello," she began.
"Alexa- Sara's Grandmother- bought it," he told her.
"I know," nodded Catherine. "Have you ever told Syd how much its worth?"
"No, but she knows it's insured, and she's very knowledgeable about instruments. She started reading a lot about different makers and the history last year. I would be surprised if she doesn't know."
"I've been wondering if there's a chance someone on campus recognized how much it's worth and wanted to get their hands on it." Catherine knew they were grasping at straws with that theory, but the lack of evidence was leaving her floundering for any theory she could come up with.
"She's never taken it to the university."
"Alex and Eviee told me she teaches private lessons on campus," said Catherine, watching as he returned to ripping up his bagel, his eyes far away.
"She has a practice cello that's not worth much for that reason. You saw it that night in the lab. It's a similar color to the antique one; Alex and Eviee don't know much about classical music or orchestras. It's unlikely they can tell the difference."
His hands stilled as he looked at the file lying on the table between them; they had been over the entire thing together, Catherine explaining everything they knew and asking any questions she could think might help.
"Gil, has Sydney ever had trouble with other musicians? Has anyone ever expressed… jealousy, or anger towards her?"
Grissom sighed and rubbed his hands together, brushing crumbs off them.
"Many times, but nothing serious. Syd goes out of her way not to invite that sort of thing. She's always careful around other musicians and she doesn't like to show off her abilities. She had a teacher in high school who made her do his job, and ended up with half the orchestra hating her."
"That's awful," said Catherine softly.
"It was a mess," he admitted, thinking back. "The teacher went before the school board, and he was fired." He saw her look and added more. "This was over three years ago; he relocated to Hawaii two months later and he's still there. I've kept an eye on him, just to make sure." Despite his confidence that Mr. Harold was no longer causing his family problems he wrote the man's name and information on a blank page for Catherine to check out anyway.
"We're going to wake Sophie up in a couple of hours," he said at last, his tone flat and exhausted.
"That's good," encouraged Catherine, hoping it would give him one less thing to worry about. He looked up at her and she felt her heart clench at the expression on his face.
"I'm terrified," he told her, his eyes so serious and pained she found it hard to breathe.
"Why?" she asked, gently trying to keep him talking.
"I can't even begin to imagine how she's going to react," he said shakily. "They're so close Catherine, they share everything, they always know… they have this bond, it's unbreakable and they… they're… when Sara and I found out we were having twins, I admit I was thrilled as a scientist as well as a parent. I had always been fascinated with twins. Watching them grow up; it's incredible. They don't need to speak half the time, they know what the other is thinking, feeling or doing. And Sophie… she's always been the leader, more protective, more watchful. Maybe because she's the oldest, I don't know. But she never handles anything happening to Syd well. And now, I can't even comprehend what she'll be thinking, and that means I have no idea how to help her."
He stopped talking, his face twisting in pain as he contemplated the terrible situation. Catherine felt tears sting her eyes and blinked furiously, forbidding them to fall.
"How do you feel?" she asked him gently. He opened his mouth to answer and closed it again, words escaping him. Finally, he tried again.
"Like my world has been turned on its axis. I cannot imagine ever feeling worse than I do now. Even last year, I was beside myself but I still had hope. Sara is so tough and so resilient; like you told me, she's a survivor through and through. But Syd, she's… she's just a child Catherine! She's the sweetest, most gentle person I know and I am so afraid of what could be happening to her." He paused, choking back tears and trying to breathe steadily. When he continued, it was with his eyes glazed and his tone altered; he was more voicing his thoughts than actually talking to her.
"Sophie, she's so like her mother. She's brilliant, the leader and always the first one to defend the others and look after them. And Kaia, she's the strongest person I've ever met; always calm and steady, and so focused it scares even me. I've never known someone so mentally tough. And Kati, she's only four, but she's a handful. Always in trouble or bulldozing into something; I pity the teachers when she starts school. But Syd, she's quiet and imaginative. All she wants to do is play music and take photographs."
He stopped and put his head in his hands, pressing his thumbs into his throbbing temples.
"Hey," Catherine reached across the table and took his hands, pulling them away from his face. "Don't give up on me; we'll find her, I promise."
…
On his way in to the lab after his allotted rest break, Nick took a detour through the hospital to check on Greg,
"How are you feeling?" he asked as he slipped behind the curtain splitting Greg's space from his roommate.
"Ahh, so so," was the shrugged reply as Greg shuffled carefully into a sitting position.
"Have you got anything for me?" asked Nick, who had steadily been supplying Greg with case information and updates since he'd been awake enough to ask for them. Greg nodded and flipped open the file Nick had dropped off on his way home.
"This guy," he said, pointing a finger at Gabriel Barr. "You need to get his juvenile records unsealed; I've seen his face somewhere before."
"Are you sure?" asked Nick.
"Positive! I've seen that nose somewhere other than in that picture. And his eyes."
"Our search flagged nothing, but I'll run facial recognition on him when I get to the lab."
"Ok, but Nick, please get a judge to unseal those records. We don't have time to waste and there's something there, I can feel it."
"Alright. You found anything else?"
"Nathaniel Logan's cell phone records are missing from the file. And this guy," Greg flipped the pages to the sketch Alex and Eviee had provided. "I saw the picture of him on the news; I'm pretty sure he was a suspect in a stalking case Sara and I had two years ago. His name is Carl Reeves and he's a mechanic in Henderson. We were convinced he did the leg work recruiting girls for a prostitution ring but we couldn't pin anything on him. He never approached the girls, never spoke to them or anything. He just watched, picked out suitable victims and passed on his information to the higher-ups. "
"Prostitution," said Nick, alarmed.
"We got all the other guys," Greg told him calmly, "closed the whole thing down. We just couldn't touch Reeves."
"Ok, I've got it, thanks."
"Keep bringing me updates," replied Greg, his eyes serious and troubled. "I need to help somehow; otherwise I just keep replaying that disaster over and over in my mind. I can't believe she was playing beautiful music for us one moment, and gone the next." Nick gripped his shoulder.
"Hang in there buddy," he said, trying to inject confidence into his tone. "We're going to find her."
…
Nick hurried into CSI, heading for the computers to run his search as he dialed Catherine to get an update. He pressed end and pocketed the phone when he saw her walking towards him with Brass beside her.
"It's not the company," said Brass bluntly as they walked into a lab and shut the door behind them. "I can't find any reason to tie the abduction to the sale of the company, Sara's inheritance or their bank accounts."
"It's not the cello either," added Catherine, leaning against a counter in exhaustion. "I spoke to Grissom earlier; Sydney has two, and the antique one has never been to the university campus, or anywhere other than a serious performance." She sighed heavily and ground her teeth in frustration; they all looked up as Warrick came in clutching a printout.
"Caliente City PD just called; they've found the Expedition. They're holding the scene until we get there."
...
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I hope you liked it- emotional Grissom is a challenge and I hope I managed to give it justice. Please leave me a note on your thoughts. Many thanks, as always Got Tea?