Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: written for the het_bigbang on Livejournal. Thanks to red_b_rackham for beta-reading and editing. Girl, you rock!
"Already leaving? Plans with that fresh husband of yours?"
As she was turning her laptop off, Georgie shook her head. She chuckled at the mirth in Doctor Wade's voice, then groaned.
"I wish," she said, a bit more dramatically than she probably was supposed to, adding some pathos to her sentence. "Chris is working the Private Robinson case. He and Percy will be probably interrogating the crew of the USS Enterprise until the next life."
Georgie sighed, her mind a bit faraway. She knew she wasn't being fair, with Chris nor with Pride, who had sent her husband to the high seas for only God knew how many days. She had worked homicides herself in the past, back in her FBI and in her LAPD days; there was a reason Chris used to make fun of her and telling her she fell asleep at her desk - because it was true.
Their jobs were demanding, and if nowadays they were lucky enough to preserve evidence for years, sometimes even decades - she knew that interrogations and witnessing were a whole other matter. Witnesses mixed facts, forgot small details (which, in retrospect, weren't so small after all), and mostly… suspects getting away. Literally.
"I just want to get back home to my baby, play with her a bit and then try to fall asleep in that big empty bed of mine." Georgie sighed.
She was making it sound so much worse that it was- Loretta knew she was exaggerating- but deep down it was the truth. After being on her own for so many years, and with Chris away on assignment, she missed him and his very presence at her side in her everyday life. They had been together barely a little more than a year, and yet she couldn't fathom the idea of getting back to an empty house ever again.
At least, back home, there was their Caitlin to keep her occupied, body and mind, with her daddy gone…
"Speaking of which, I really have to go." Georgie said as she took her bag from a metallic drawer of her desk. "I don't really want to waste Melody's babysitting hours with work, as fun as it is…" Georgie chuckled, a smile gracing her lips.
She and Melody- Chris' ex, and the mother of a son he hadn't known he had until a few months back- had had a rocky start. And yet, now they were friends, to Christopher's eternal chagrin. And it even got worse: for the sake of the half-siblings, Melody had moved barely two buildings down their same street, and she liked babysitting for them, something that creeped Chris out a bit. But, considering that when they had Tucker over was it was because Mel was on a date, well, she just wished for once that they could do the same. But apparently, dating - Do married people still date each other? I'm definitely a little bit rusty…- wasn't something that married law enforcement agents with a young child were usually able to do.
Georgie rubbed her cranky neck as she retrieved her beige trench coat, still under the watchful gaze of Loretta, who shook her head. She knew she was working too much lately, and that she had the tendency to book overtime, but it wasn't really her fault. Crime never slept in New Orleans, after all.
She swore, it was worse than in New York and Los Angeles put together – and when Sebastian had graduated to NCIS agent status, he had left the lab short-staffed, prey to Millennial interns who barely knew they were supposed to wash their hands before treating any evidence. Seriously, sometimes if felt like Hamilton and his Police Chief buddy were doing it on purpose, sending over people who kept jeopardizing cases and needed to be constantly monitored.
Which, knowing Hamilton? It was probably the case. What was better than having evidence that could, just maybe, lead back to him, contaminated by some idiots? The Mayor kept afloat, but King was working hard on finding some dirt on him. They all knew it was a matter of time. Sooner or later he would show the City what he truly was, a snake in human skin, a criminal who used his position to collect favours and dirt, and get richer and richer. He liked to pose as a victim, embellish facts with words like he was a magician. It was an offence to the real victims.
Georgie took a big breath, rallying her thoughts, and said goodbye to Loretta and the few staff left there in the building. She didn't have her car today, so she decided to change her itinerary a bit- Melody wouldn't mind if she had been a little late, especially if she decided to show up with delicious, fresh and still warm food, ready to be devoured with a glass of Merlot and a cheesy movie while they lamented over their problems.
Besides, she loved the Carnival, and city was in full swing, filled with energy and smiles and young love, the Quarter situated in the middle of it all. It was a beautiful sight, looking at the people from all the different krewes coming together and "fighting" each other, but a little bit heart-breaking too. Most of these people weren't locals, coming to town just for the festivities. They would only look at this, the pulsating heart of the town. And yet, there was still so much pain, so much desolation, with entire neighbourhoods that hadn't survived Katrina, over a decade before. They had been left to themselves, either because of the greed of people like Gregorio's ex-husband, or because simply no one either knew or cared enough to do something about it.
The road was filled with cheering youngsters. Smiling and shaking her head, Georgie knew that many of them would be back by Spring Break time. She also had the distinct feeling that few of them would stay once and for all- if you looked hard enough, you could recognize the type, and how they looked at the city. It happened at lot with New Orleans, and it had happened to a lot of them- Loretta, Chris, Gregorio, and Georgie herself. It hadn't happened with Merrie, though, but that was food for thought for another day…
"Ehy!" she practically screamed as a man elbowed her in the streets. She turned to him, and he stopped, dark sunglasses and baseball hat still on despite the night looming over them. Georgie shook her head, and he bowed his head, but by the way he smirked she knew he truly didn't feel sorry at all.
She walked away, annoyed, and groaning. She massaged her left arm, where he had hit her- oddly, it itched and burned. A few seconds later, she stopped before a street musician- a black man in his early twenties playing an old guitar under an unlit street lamp- her gaze fell on the her arm. The white cloth of her sleeved was slightly damp and there was a small hole- like a puncture hole.
"What the…" she said. Suddenly, her energies left her; her whole body burned, and she couldn't focus on anything. Everything was a jumble of sounds and colours. Her head felt like it was exploding, and as the coat fell from her grasp, she knew she was only seconds away from losing consciousness.
"Easy there, luv, I've got you…" A male voice, with a thick Irish accent, spoke from… behind her, maybe?
Her knees were failing her, and the man kept her still, allowing her to lean on him. But, there was something… odd about him. It was like she knew that voice, and yet there was something wrong about it. Like… like she knew he was in the wrong place, somehow.
"What…." she whispered barely able to say the one word. She was tired, so, so tired, and all her muscles burned, rebelling against her. Even just looking at him and saying that one word put strain on her petite body.
The stranger moved in front of her. Holding Georgie by her arm, he used his free hand to lift his baseball hat just for a fraction of second, just enough so that she could meet his eyes- blue piercing eyes, burning and yet as cold as ice - and she knew exactly what was happening, and who was responsible for it.
No, she tried to say, but the words failed her.
She wanted to run away, wanted to escape the maniac grin printed on his handsome face, but she was unable to. Her body was turning on her, betraying her in ways she had never thought possible. She hoped that someone could see the horror and fear in her eyes, on her face, and help her.
The nightmare took shape once again right before her eyes, her mind filled with memories of… of her biggest shame, her secret, something that no one knew about. Not her family, nor Gibbs or Pride. She hadn't even talked about it with Chris. Sonja, though...she guessed that Sonja at least suspected something from their hinted conversations, but she had never been fully open about it. There were dark places her soul had wandered into in the past- places too dark even for her surrogate family to deal with.
He was here, and no one would know his whereabouts. No one would take him as a person of interest after whatever he was going to do with her. Not unless they dug deep- that would take time. Something she feared she didn't have.
He smiled at her, as handsome as she remembered him, holding her now with both hands on her elbows.
No, she thought again, unable to look at anything but his icy eyes. No, please, not now…
"I've got you, Annie…" he said, his voice menacing, his accent as thick as ever. He leaned closer to her, his nose gazing hers, his hot breath on her skin. He smelled like cheap whisky -nothing new there. And yet, it wasn't reassuring at all. If nothing else, it scared the hell out of her even more.
He turned towards the street musician, his grip on her never faltering. Darkness was taking her away quicker and quicker, and the words started to die in her mind.
"My wife can't hold her liquor, and yet…" The Irishman didn't finish the sentence. He just shrugged like it was nothing, maybe an everyday occurrence, his smirk fully in place. He held Georgie against his side, looking down at her, with what many would have assumed love and affection. He chuckled, and dragged her away.
The CSI was unable to even think about fighting, all too aware of what the whole ordeal was supposed to look like to an outsider. It was New Orleans, after all- on top of that, it was Mardi Gras. The city was filled with strangers getting drunk. No one was going to assume anything.
Not until it was too late.
"Got you back, Annie…" the Irishman hissed in her ear as they left the filled and lively street of the Quarter. He held her against his side with enough force to let her know, even in her inebriated state, that he meant business. He didn't seem to have a gun, or at least, he wasn't pointing one at her in that moment, but she knew he didn't need to. She was in no shape to fight back, and she knew that he didn't want to get any unwanted attention while he carried out his plan, whatever it was.
As he dragged her away, her beige trench coat lay on the pavement, people stepping on it without even noticing. The street musician did; he grabbed it and looked around for the woman who had lost it and left him a few bills, but he couldn't see her.
Her or her creepy husband.
