Goggled

Disclaimer: Mine no! CBS, Anthony Zuiker et al Yes! Pity :o(
Spoilers: Strip Strangler and LHB
Dedication: To Jac for picking up the slack once again when Aby was too ill to do so And to Vividlyblue1 for giving me back my inspiration
Author's Note: This is a follow up to Strip Strangler but it's set about two years later.The premise being what if Syd Goggle had a friend who had taught Him everything he knew? This is my Challenge Alphabet fic for the Letter R for Revenge.


Chapter Three

"Please," Grissom croaked, his voice thin and reedy and very unlike normal, "just take a seat and I'll explain."

It was the change in his voice and the look in his eyes that broke the tension. This just didn't sound like their Grissom. These changes more than any of the physical ones that had hit them as they walked in the door told them something drastic and terrible had happened to their boss, their friend.

They, quietly, moved to the seats and sat down, each watching Grissom's reactions without trying to stare. The man was definitely uneasy, almost on edge and that was so out of character.

Grissom looked down at his hands as he clasped them in his lap, he didn't want anyone to see how much they were shaking, and he tried to steal himself for what he was about to do. He knew he could have taken the easy way out, made a statement for Brass and let him and Catherine deal with the younger CSIs and their questions but these people were his team, more than that they were his friends and he had to be able to believe in their support and that their respect for him still existed and the only way he could think to convince himself of that was to tell them face to face.

Catherine had chided him when he had voiced his reasons but they'd both seen how people reacted to rape victims often enough to know there was no way to predict the out come. Some accepted it straight off and were supportive and helpful to the victim. Some needed time and had to rebuild their relationship with them. Then there were those who either couldn't handle what had happened or who could not believe that there was smoke without fire. Those types of friends a rape victim definitely didn't need.

Even though they had all dealt with the share of rape victims, saying and doing all the right things at the time, this was different. This wasn't some stranger that they'd never met before and once the case was over they were unlikely to see again. This time it was personal because it was Grissom, it was someone they would have to deal with in the job every day and, as Catherine had started the ritual of breakfasting together at shifts end, they'd even have to socialise. So it was very important to Grissom to be honest about it all right from the start.

He took a deep breath trying his hardest to remain calm then looked at each of them in turn as he said quite plainly, "Yesterday I was held prisoner in my own home for six hours. I was assaulted and raped by a man looking for revenge over one of our cases."

Nick sat staring, mouth open in amazement. Warrick wasn't much better, his eyes went wide with shock and he actually paled. Sara automatically reached out her hand to offer comfort and support but she stopped when she saw the fear in the man's eyes at the simple gesture. All three had tears and anger in their eyes.

Catherine moved to stand behind Sara a reassuring hand on each of her shoulders. She knew this would be hard on all of them, but with the exception of herself, Sara had known Grissom the longest. The older woman knew that the brunette all but idolised the senior CSI for his skill, tenacity and integrity. She also knew that the younger woman had a crush on her boss, something Gil tried to ignore because he found it so difficult to deal with.

Warrick was first to speak, "Listen, Griss," he said empathy and rage tinting his voice, it was just the right sort of reaction that Gil needed to see. Anger at the perp not at the victim, "why don't you get some rest and let Brass fill us in, then we can hit the lab and start finding this bastard?" It wasn't often you heard Warrick Brown curse, besides the occasional damn, but he did so now with authority.

"He can't," Grissom informed him, "I haven't told him yet," he watched the surprise added to the mixture of emotions playing across the faces before him. He could never express what it meant to him that none of them had recoiled or left, that they hadn't rejected him and that their first thoughts had been for his health and the capture of his assailant. He should have known better and trusted Catherine's assessment.

"If you'll all just listen for now, I'll try and explain it all.

Grissom jerked awake, annoyed at losing precious sleeping time. He was exhausted and had hoped to rest for much longer than his usual four hours. Something had awoken him and he lay there on his right side trying to figure out what it was. Then it happened again, the bed moved, the mattress giving under additional weight and he realised there was someone behind him. Trying to stay calm and wondering how someone had got in to his home, his bed, he started to turn when something hard slammed into his head just above his left temple and he saw stars.

Falling back on the bed, stunned and confused, he felt someone haul him onto his back and straddle his chest. His assailant used his knees to trap Grissom's arms by his sides and then pried the dazed man's jaws apart, pouring a liquid down his throat. It was either swallow or choke, Grissom wanted to do neither but gravity won out.

The liquid had a salty taste to it and subconsciously he tried to analyse what he'd just been forced fed. It didn't take long for the chemical to take effect and he grimaced at the outcome, feeling panic rising. Sodium Amatol. He tried to fight its affects, tried to push himself into a sitting position or onto his side, anything to make his limbs work but although his mind was perfectly clear his body refused to respond to the brains orders except in feeble, jerky, spasmodic motions, as if they were no longer connected.

He heard a harsh snapping sound and then his assailant was back. Grissom was forced onto his right side again and he wanted to scream as he felt a cord wrapped around his neck, but when he opened his mouth a cloth of some description was forced inside. All he could concentrate on now was breathing and not choking, but even that became difficult.

A knee pressed into his back in the space between his shoulders and he felt the cord tighten around his neck. He raised his arms slowly and awkwardly they felt so heavy and uncontrollable but his hands wouldn't work properly and there was no strength in his fingers. He felt the cord bite into his neck, nipping, burning and breaking the skin as it did so but he didn't care, all he worried about was breathing. This bastard was slowly killing him and Grissom had no idea why?

In the streaks of sunlight that broke through the gaps in the curtains he watched as everything took on a distinct pink haze, then began to blur, his hands fell useless at his sides and he reluctantly slipped into the darkness never expecting to wake again.

But wake he did with a start. Painful gasping breaths ripped through his abraded and protesting windpipe as he fought for air. Beautiful, clear, comforting air. He was so relieved to be alive that he momentarily forgot about his attacker, though not for long. He heard someone cackle behind him and the mattress gave under someone else's weight.

"Back with us again, Mr Grissom?" a voice whispered in his ear, so indistinct and quiet he couldn't even pin an accent to it, "well, let's just see what can be done about that, shall we?"

Grissom didn't know how long it lasted, our how long he remained unconscious, but his assailant enjoyed himself by bring his captive to the point of death at least six or seven times before he tired of the game. He also enjoyed punching at his victims face and chest chuckling at each sign of pain and watching the fear grow in the expressive blue eyes.

"Now," his captor whispered, "if you've guessed the connection between us you know what comes next?" Grissom could see delight reflected in the other man's eyes but his face was obscured up to them by a scarf or some piece of material and a hood or hat was pulled down over his head hiding his hair and even his eyebrows.

"Syd always left a respectable amount of semen for you guys to play with," the man chuckled digging into something lying on the floor out of Grissom's line of sight, "as you know it was a sample he brought with him, not his own DNA," this guy was treating this like some sort of lecture, apprising Grissom of the details of how to stage a crime scene. "Well I haven't had as much time available to me as he had so I'm afraid you're going to provide the sample," again he chuckled swinging an object in front of Grissom's face... a vibrator.

Grissom recoiled, terror written on his face as he tried to scream around the gag in his mouth. This couldn't be happening, it had to be a nightmare, this man couldn't be going to do what he said?

The pain of entry stole Grissom's breath away and he tried to crawl away from the cause of his agony but the cord was still around his neck and his attacker used that to control him. Mercilessly the man pumped the vibrator in an out of his sobbing victim making sure to have extended contact with the man's prostate, the object of this lesson was after all to get a suitable amount of ejaculate on the sheets.

The attack seemed to last for ever and Grissom began to think it would never end when he was horrified to realise that despite the pain and the beating he was taking his body was beginning to respond.

'No!' his mind screamed in humiliation and disbelief. The man behind him started to laugh and Grissom felt an arm reach around his waist. A hand grabbed his thickening shaft and began pumping it and the vibrator was forced onto a higher setting and rammed harder against his prostate pinning Grissom in place.

"This is what we want," the man spoke in a gleeful whisper, "though I dare say the once won't be enough."

Grissom tried to shut down, to ignore what was being said and done to him. He tried to deny the pain and what this man was making his body do. To deny this beast, this pervert what he was clearly enjoying so much, but he couldn't and tears streamed down his face as he felt his body writhe and buck it's release. He sagged against the bed, praying it was all over and that the man would just go and leave him to his despair, but the torment didn't finish. His captor merely gave him what he felt was a suitable time to recover and then started over again.

Finally satisfied with what he saw on the sheets, the man moved onto the next stage of his plan and Grissom hoped this would be the final act. If the man kept true to the scenario Syd Goggle had mapped out with his victims it should now be a case of his death and the police finding his posed body.

'God,' he thought, 'I hope it's the police, I don't want Catherine or any of the others to find me like this!'

However, his mysterious attacker had other ideas. He slipped a rope around Grissom's neck and tied it to the head board, he then pulled his legs up and positioned his arms around them with his hands underneath and tied his wrists together, then he tied a rope around his ankles and secured that to the foot board. "Have to pose you somehow," was the muttered statement before his attacker moved onto other things.

"Just before I send you to your maker, I have one more thing to do and something to tell you," the man said calmly still keeping his voice to a whisper, "I don't blame Catherine Willows for killing my friend. She was just doing what she should, protecting her friend," he explained startling Grissom. How did this man know so much, no names had ever been released to the press, just a statement saying that two Las Vegas police employees had been involved?

"No," the man continued interrupting his victim's thoughts, "I blame you," he snarled viciously. "If you'd followed procedure Syd would never have had the chance to attack you and Ms Willows would not have to have shot him," the man became calm again, too calm Grissom thought subconsciously with the part of his mind that was not paralysed with terror. "True Syd would still have been caught but he'd have been in jail not in a pine box six feet under."

Without another word he carried out what he felt was the last stage of Syd's plan, the object rape. Grissom felt the renewed agony ripping and tearing through him, burning him up from the inside with the man's zeal. He felt something stab into his flesh and stick there but there was nothing he could do about it trussed up as he was.

When the man was satisfied he stood in front of Grissom sunlight glinting off of the blade of a knife, " A little addition of my own," he chuckled as he reached toward his captive's chest. He laughed heartily as he heard the man's muffled cries of pain as he cut the letters of a word into his smooth hairless chest.

Grissom could feel the knife biting and stinging it's way into his skin as the blood trickled across his pectoral and onto the bed sheet beneath him. He tried to remain calm in spite of what he now faced. Soon all the pain, humiliation and fear would be over, at least he should be thankful he wouldn't have to live with the consequences of what had been done to him. He felt the man move behind him once more and then the homemade garrotte cut into his flesh again. Blackness was not long in descending and he welcomed it.

He was startled, no astonished, to come to sometime later and wasn't sure if he was happy to be alive or not. He felt something cool lying next to his face and was surprised to see it was the handset of his phone. Apparently his attacker wanted him to be found.

Praying his tormentor had not changed the number he had last dialled, Grissom struggled to hit the redial button with his nose, almost choking himself in the process. He could have cheered when he succeeded and it was only then he realised that the gag was gone.

He heard Catherine's surprised and angry voice on the other end of the receiver and tried to call out to her, but his voice wouldn't work properly. Panicking in case she would think it was a crank call and hang up he finally managed to coax the words out of his raw throat.

"Hurt... help... hurry..."

Tears of relief sprang unbidden down his face as he heard her response.

There was a stunned silence as Grissom fell quiet. His heart was pounding, his throat was aching and there were tears trickling down his face. He couldn't bring himself to look at the faces surrounding him, yet. He was afraid of what he might see. He had to suppress a cry of fear as arms wrapped around his shoulders holding him. It was Catherine offering her strength, protection and support and that was when Grissom broke down completely.

Feeling ashamed and embarrassed he tried to stop but it was like plugging the damn once it had been breeched. "It's okay, Gil," Catherine murmured reassuringly rubbing his back, "you're entitled," she told him.

"Hell yes," Sara agreed, "after that!" she exclaimed stuck for words to try and comfort her friend. They'd all thought that case over and done with years ago but now they were going to have to go back to it and try to find what they hadn't before. An associate of Syd Goggle; someone who cared enough to torment and terrorise this gentle man. It would appear he had at least one real friend in the world that missed him.

"Cath," Warrick said taking charge before anyone could pre-empt him, "I think you should stay with Griss, while Nick and I head back to the scene," he saw accusation as well as gratitude in her eyes as she looked at him over her shoulder. She wasn't prepared to let go of Gil Grissom yet or face the scene of his attack, once that day had been enough. "I'm not saying you missed anything,"

Warrick added trying to mollify her, "but a second look won't hurt will it?" She had to agree with that.

"I'll go see where Greg is at," Sara spoke up then noticed the panic in Grissom's face at the mention of the young tech. He'd forgotten all about Greg Saunders.

Gil knew Catherine had told the young man not to pursue the victim's identity but this was Greg they were talking about. He was naturally curious; it was what made him so good at his job and one of the few things Grissom actually understood about him.

"Don't worry, boss," Nick tried to put the bereft man at his ease, "Greg can be very discrete when necessary."

Warrick and Sara both nodded their agreement with the Texan's assessment. "Do you mind if I give him the abridge version of what you just told us?" Sara asked they all knew that would secure Greg's silence.

Grissom looked at Catherine, indecisive for the first time in his adult life. When she nodded he reluctantly agreed, "It's not like it won't be all over the department tomorrow anyway," he hissed angrily, gossip always found a way to circulate even when you tried to prevent it. "The uniformed officers on the scene were already talking about me being in Criminalistics when I was leaving in the ambulance, I guess one of them recognised me."

Brass grimaced as he read over the notes he had made during Grissom's recollection of his assault, he wondered if Gil blamed him for that? Although this was not a homicide and technically he should hand it off to the proper department, Jim Brass was loathed to let any stranger handle this and decided he would find a way to keep control of the investigation. He had already assigned Varga and Conroy on rotating shifts to secure the crime scene with the uniforms, while O'Riley canvassed the neighbourhood in the hopes of finding someone who might have seen a suspicious stranger near Grissom's townhouse. He'd told the stalky sergeant to keep the details to a minimum, let the neighbours think Grissom had merely surprised a burglar and leave it at that.