Finally got down to editing this thing and getting back into angsty fun with my favourite CSI! I wonder what horrors Greg will endure at my hands...you'll just have to wait and see..

The first thing Catherine became aware of was the uncomfortably wet pressure on her cheek. The second thing she felt was the pounding in her head, and an alarming lack of memories of what had happened to her. Bit by bit she regained feeling in her face and body, which prompted a groan from her lips. She moved her head, eyes adjusting to a dusky gloom. She could just make out shadowy figures around her, some distressingly close and also beginning to stir. At the moment, however, she was more concerned with her own painfully sore face as she explored it with a tingling hand, eliciting another moan from her lips. Satisfied after a moment to find no permanent damage, she proceeded to bracing her forearms against the cold floor and lifting herself slightly, enough at least to get her face out of the sticky liquid. It smelled unmistakably of blood, and she again gingerly felt her still-throbbing head for its source. But she seemed to be fine, just sore and fuzzy. Her eyes traveled around again and she could now make out the shapes of four other people, amid more groans and confused murmurs.

"Catherine?" came a low whisper from her right. She craned her neck and met Sara's gaze in the semi-darkness. Their reunion was short-lived and they both turned to their other companions. Catherine was less than surprised to see that Nick and Warrick were the other occupants of the cell, with Grissom at the far end, already exploring their surroundings. Nick and Warrick were sitting up, rubbing their heads slowly and looking around.

"Oh my...lord," breathed Catherine in shock as her gaze slipped past their immediate gloom and into the only lit part of the room. The dread in her voice must have communicated itself to the others, because they turned as one to look over their shoulders. Gasps of dismay echoed throughout the small space.

They were in one half of a room that was partitioned down the middle by thick vertical iron bars. The figure that had so captured their attention - lying spread-eagled on the other side of the barrier - was very familiar to them.

"Oh...Greg," breathed Sara in consternation.

Greg's arms and legs were stretched taut by shackles at his wrists and ankles that held him tightly fixed to the floor. A deep gash ran from his temple into his hair, leaving his hairline deep red from clotted blood. Blood had trickled down the side of his face.

"Greg?" called Nick tentatively, though he was clearly still unconscious. No response. He gave a louder shout, very mindful that they still didn't know who'd kidnapped them and whether they were close by. Greg didn't stir. Nick shared glances with the others, realizing that they couldn't do much more at the moment to help him.

"Whoever got us must have hit him real hard," winced Warrick finally as he moved his sore body to lean against one of the walls.

"Speaking of, does anyone remember what happened? I'm only getting some flashes back," inquired Nick, though his eyes stayed glued to Greg.

"I was in the parking garage of my building," said Sara. "Didn't see anything unusual, then someone came up behind me, slipped their arm around with a rag. It smelled like ether. I went down and woke up here."

"Ether is pretty old-school," muttered Warrick.

Catherine had managed to sit up during this time and into a moderately comfortable position, leaning up against one of the iron bars closest to her.

"God, I feel like a truck backed over me," she sighed, clutching her head with one hand.

"No kidding," agreed Nick. "All I remember is stepping out of my apartment. It was getting dark outside. A man was there — about five-nine and wearing a black baseball cap. He shoved a rag into my face and I went out like a light. I think it was ether, too."

"Is anyone injured?" asked Grissom, looking around intently.

They all shook their heads. Besides feeling quite stiff and lightheaded from aftereffects, they seemed to be in one shape.

"Why did they drug us but hit him?" ventured Warrick after a minute. He was voicing the question they'd all been thinking.

Grissom shook his head. He just didn't know. "We'll have to figure it out somehow. For now let's just try to recreate our last couple days. Maybe we can figure out who it was."

They divulged each of their stories, but all they could figure out was that they were all abducted in much the same way. Deserted areas with no witnesses worked to the kidnapper's advantage, but not theirs. None of them could recall being tailed recently, nor give a description of their attacker that rang any bells. They settled into an uncomfortable silence as they contemplated their situation and the unconscious body of their friend on the other side of the bars.

Sara's shaky voice spoke up eventually. "What do you think they want from us?"

Grissom set his lips. "I'm not sure, but I'm sure by now Brass has figured out that we're missing. It'll only be a matter of time, and in the meantime we're all resourceful; we'll find some way out of here."

"Doesn't seem like we're the ones in trouble," said Nick, and his eyes involuntarily flicked back to Greg's prone body.

"Whoever it is has been watching us for some time," Grissom mused out loud. "Observing our routines and habits."

"And he got us all within hours of each other," added Warrick. "We might have been lying in a van while he took everyone. He must have planned this very carefully."

"But to what end?" wondered Grissom.

"And why Greg's...special treatment?" sighed Catherine.

As was quickly becoming habit when the topic turned, their eyes snapped to Greg's prostrated form. He'd made no movement at all. If it hadn't been for the slight rising of his chest, they might have assumed he was already dead. The nasty cut on his temple still gleamed with unclotted blood.

"Do you think we should try to wake him up?" asked Sara.

"Better let him rest," said Nick, shaking his head. "Who knows what's in store for him."

Sara closed her eyes tightly, willing herself into calmness, but it wouldn't come. She nibbled at her nails worriedly, eventually opening her eyes and staring at the door. What would Greg wake up to? They didn't know, but from the way he was restrained, it couldn't be good.