Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:Miami or NCIS in any shape or form - much to my disgust. I hope that you will enjoy this story...Laplandgurl...

A JOURNEY TO HELL

Chapter 1

"Oh dear, I'm tired of sitting," the older woman remarked, getting out of the four door Dodge Caliber; which had stopped at one of the many rest stops off of the interstate leading into Miami, Florida.

"I know dear," the driver, an man is his early 60's sighed wearily, also getting out of the car. "We'll soon be at the house. Come on, I've got to use the facilities and then we'll eat our lunch before getting back on the highway."

After quickly using the facilities, the older couple started walking around; working the kinks out of their tired, cramped muscles before heading towards the grassy picnic area with their lunches. As they drew closed to the picnic area, the older couple heard and saw a huge cloud of flies and insects buzzing over something hidden in the tall, dry grass. "Someone must have dumped their trash instead of putting it into the garbage bins," the woman said, in a disgusted tone. "Some people can be such pigs can't they?"

The older man peered into the tall grass and bulrushes, turning and gagging before rushing towards the car, pawing thru the car's glove compartment. "Brenda, where did you put the cell phone after you called the kids?"

"It's in my purse. What's going on Larry?"

"Hi 911? I'm calling to report a dead body."

-csimiami-csimiami-csi-miami-csimiami-csimiami-csimiami-csimiami-

A big, bronze colored Hummer pulled up behind several Miami-Dade police cars, the big, powerful engine rumbling before going quiet. As a tall man in his late 40's – early 50's exited the big, lumbering vehicle. "Frank," the red head said, adjusting his ever present sunglasses against the harsh glare of the noon-time sun.

"Horatio," the big, stocky Texan greeted his long time friend. "We're waiting for the M.E.'s office."

"What do we have here Frank?"

"A dump job it looks like," Frank reported. "A couple of snowbirds pulled in for a pit stop and found the body." Looking up when a silver colored Hummer, followed by a white M.E.'s van pulled into the parking lot and parked. With Eric and Natalia slipping out of the Hummer's front seats and Dr. Tara Price getting out of the van with Kyle following. "The body is over there Doc!" Frank bellowed, indicating the area cordoned off the fluttering, yellow crime scene tape.

"Any idea of the victim's identity?" Horatio asked, as Eric and Natalia came up to where he was standing in the hot sun; carrying their silver cases.

"Nope," Frank drawled. "She's naked as the day she was born."

"I'll check the garbage bins," Eric stated.

"And I'll get overalls and close ups," said Natalia.

Various heads either jerked up or snapped around as Dr. Price's voice rang out over the area. "She's alive! We need Rescue right now!"

Kyle sprinted towards the big, white van, grabbing the first aid kit and headed back towards the victim with Horatio following, Frank hollering in his radio for Rescue. "Who was the first officer on the scene?" Frank demanded, after receiving assurance from Dispatch that Rescue was enroute to their location.

"Umm, I was the first officer on scene, sir," a young traffic officer stammered.

"And your name officer?" Frank demanded, scowling at the hapless rookie officer.

"Umm...Fiske, sir. Todd Fiske," the rookie stammered.

"Didn't you check for vitals when you first arrived on the scene?" Frank snapped.

"Uh, I checked for a pulse, sir. But I didn't find one," Officer Fiske replied. "So I then called it in as a DB."

"Did the second officer on scene double check for vitals?" Horatio asked, tilting his head to one side.

"Uh...I think so, sir," Officer Fiske admitted.

"You didn't see him do so?" Frank questioned. "Why didn't you see him?"

"Because I was inside the men's washroom being sick, sir," Officer Fiske wretchedly confessed.

"Which stall did you use Officer?" Horatio asked.

"Oh, the first stall on left," Officer Fiske replied, flushing under Frank's glare and Horatio's steady, blue eyed gaze as Fire and Rescue roared up. Uniformed personnel erupting from the vehicles – rushing towards the organized chaos around the still breathing victim. Quickly assessing her condition and determining that they required a medical evacuation to Dade Memorial.

"How are you doing Kyle?" Horatio questioned softly, coming up to stand beside his son – who was taking in the scene with a keen interest.

"I'm okay dad," the lanky, young man replied. "I'm just really surprised to see that lady is still alive in spite of all her injuries."

"You would be surprised at how much the human body can endure if the will to live is really strong," Horatio responded as the Med-Evac helicopter clattered into view, stirring the grass and rising large clouds of dust as the noisy machine settled in for a landing. "You would be surprised son."

96 Hours Previous:

Somewhere in a dingy bar in Washington, D.C.; a harsh voice whispered under the cover of the loud, blaring music. "I don't care what happens to the woman once I get my daughter. Just make sure that she disappears permanently. I don't want anyone finding out where she is."

"What do we get for snatching the kid and making the broad disappear?" the outlaw biker demanded.

"Five thousand dollars," the unknown man replied. "Half now and the remainder when I get the kid. And you have to leave the state in case someone sees you."

"Okay," the outlaw biker grinned, showing off ugly, tobacco stained teeth. "Got any pictures so we don't snatch the wrong kid?"

"Here," the man slid a plain, manila envelope across the beer stained and knife scarred table. "There's also a rough itinerary, along with a number to call me when you've got the kid."

"Hmm, this shouldn't be a problem, the broad ain't much bigger than her kid."

"Don't under estimate her – she's a scrapper that one is. Especially when it comes to her daughter's safety. And listen Jensen – there better not be any marks on my daughter," a dark-skinned hand shot across the table with surprising speed and strength – clamping down on the biker's tattooed forearm – utilizing pressure points. "I promise you that you will regret it very deeply." The deep voice threatened before releasing Jensen's numb arm.

"Don't worry man. We'll handle the kid with kid gloves," Jensen growled, rubbing his arm – trying to regain the sensation of feeling back into his numb arm. "What about our money?"

"Here," the unseen speaker snorted, almost throwing a smaller brown envelope across the table. "Remember – you have snatch them somewhere with no possible witnesses or cameras."

"Relax man. Don't be getting your panties in twist," Jensen snickered.

"And don't even think about trying to double cross me. Otherwise you and your buddies will be very, very sorry."

"Don't worry man," Jensen gulped.

"Good. Now don't make me wait too long for my daughter."

"Yeah man, we won't," Jensen replied. "Just give us a couple of days to set things up."

"Remember no marks."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Several days later on a wood lined stretch of highway, a dark sedan driven by a red haired woman, sighed as she spotted the flashing lights and then noticed the warning flares. Stopping when a man flagged her down. The man – dressed in construction clothes, wearing a orange safety vest – motioned for her to roll the window down. "What's going on?" the woman asked.

"We've got a tractor-trailer that jack-knifed up ahead; blocking the road. So you're gonna have to back up and take another route into the city."

The woman nodded, looking around sharply when her passenger side windows shattered from the force of several baseball bats. Ducking and screaming; trying to throw the car into reverse. Stopping when she felt a gun muzzle jabbing her ribs and a knife blade at her throat. "You can have the damn car if it means so much to you," the red-head said tersely. "Just let me get my daughter out of the back seat and you can have the car." Trying to hold it together despite her daughter's shrieks of terror from behind her.

"Just get out of the car. Nothing funny," the male standing by her car door snarled, brandishing yet another gun in her face as a beat-up van and several motorcycles bucketed up next to the sedan.

Once outside the car, several sets of hands quickly threw a hood over her head, blocking her vision while her hands and feet were restrained with duct tape. Feeling herself being picked up and tossed bodily into a vehicle, groaning as her breath was knocked out of her lungs. Rolling over quickly; sitting up – begging. "Please, please don't hurt my daughter. She's just an innocent baby. Please don't take my baby." Dissolving into hysterical tears as the van lurched into motion, the sound of her daughter's screams fading as the vehicle drove off.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A short while later, a cell phone rang, prompting it's owner to excuse himself from a meeting. "Excuse me gentlemen. I really need to take this call," stepping out of the conference room and into his private office, looking the door behind him. "Do you have her?"

"We do. Meet us at Rock Creek Park with our money in an hour."

"Is she okay? Did you have any trouble?"

"The mom is quite the spitfire," the voice chuckled. "But I like them like that. Rock Creek Park in one hour and bring the rest of our money or you won't get the kid."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

At Rock Creek Park, a non-descriptive Ford sedan pulled up next to a maroon Toyota sedan with the passenger side windows smashed in the deserted parking lot. Cutting the engine, the driver exited the Ford - tskking over the possible attention that the shattered windows may have drawn. Before heading down the trail towards the pre-arranged meeting location. "Okay, I'm here. Where is my daughter?"

"First where is the rest of the money?" Jensen demanded, stepping out of the bushes into the clearing.

"How do I know that you are not just double crossing me?" the unknown man retorted.

"Yo man! Bring that brat out!" Jensen ordered.

An unkempt biker stepped out of the bushes carrying a toddler strapped in a car seat; who was sleeping soundly. "There she is. Now where's our money?" Jensen said.

"What did you do to her?"

"We just used a little bit of chloroform," Jensen replied. "The brat wouldn't stop screaming. And you did tell us not to attract any attention."

"What about the woman? Or did you screw that up as well?"

"Nah," Jensen gloated. "I've got some associates with the Mala Nocha and they've agreed to take her off of our hands."

"Fine," the unknown man sighed, reaching inside his suit jacket; pulling out an envelope – slapping it against Jensen's chest.

Jensen quickly thumbed thru the cash before nodding towards his underling; who in turn sat the car seat on the ground before hustling to join Jensen for the short trek back to the car.

In response, the unknown male pulled a small handgun from the small of his back, screwing a silences on the muzzle before firing several rounds into each biker's body. Bending over Jensen's still warm body; retrieving his money.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Back in the parking lot, the man quickly installed the car seat in the back seat of his car. Then turning his attention towards the other car; he quickly grabbed the diaper bag and a worn teddy bear which he placed in his car. Opening the trunk – he pulled out several cans of barbeque starter fluid with glove covered hands. Thoroughly dousing the rental car with starter fluid – tossing the empty plastic containers in thru one of the broken windows. He then tossed several burning rags in the abandoned car – tossing his latex gloves in as well.

Getting behind the steering wheel of his car – glancing in the rearview mirror. "Don't worry baby girl. You'll soon be home with me and your new family and everything will be okay." Driving off – leaving the rapidly burning car in his wake.

Miami – Present Day

Horatio watched thru the windowed doors at the determined and dedicated staff of health care professionals fighting to keep their newest patient from the eager clutches of death. Looking up when Dr. Alexx Woods exited the room, pulling her face mask off as she headed in his direction. "It's good to see you again Alexx," Horatio smiled warmly at the former M.E. "How is your patient doing?"

"Horatio, that woman...," Alexx began, pausing – fighting her anger. "Horatio, that woman in there....I just don't know how she survived her injuries? I just just don't know."

"What exactly are her injuries Alexx?" Horatio gently questioned.

"Let's go in here where we can talk without being interrupted," Alexx replied, leading the way to an small, empty waiting room. Sitting down and opening the file folder that she had picked up at the nurse's station on the way. "Okay, let's see here," Alexx sighed, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "She's been burned several times with a cigarette on her back, those seem to be the oldest injuries. A shattered left ankle which will probably require pinning once she's stable enough. Moving along; numerous bruises in various stages of healing all over her body, several dislocated fingers."

"There's more isn't there?"

"Oh yes," Alexx agreed. "Your mystery woman suffered a tension pneumothorax from several fractured ribs which punctured her lung. We inserted a chest tube to reinflate the lung and now are in the progress of removing the bullet."

"She was shot?"

"Yes she was. The bullet struck her right zygamatic bone; shattering it and cracking her right orbital bone. The bullet then miraculously traveled around to the back of her head."

"How is that possible?"

"The bullet's trajectory was deflected by hitting the aforementioned cheekbone; causing it to skim along the victim's skull – much like a rock skimming the surface of the water," Alexx explained.

"She is indeed very fortunate," Horatio murmured.

"Yes she is."

"Has she wakened up at all? Said anything?"

"No," Alexx shook her head. "She's suffering a pretty serious concussion which means that she's in a coma right now."

"What about sexual assault?"

"It's possible," Alexx admitted. "We'll do an exam and send everything to your lab."

"We'll need to take pictures and her fingerprints to check with missing persons."

"Pictures yes, even though she is pretty beat up and has a nasty cut going from the corner of her eye, over to her nose which finally stops at the corner of her mouth. But prints will not be possible."

"Why not Alexx?"

Because her prints have been burned off with some kind of acid."

"Someone really doesn't want us to find out the identity of this woman," Horatio said, bowing his head in thought, his shoulders sagging.

"It certainly looks that way."

"Hmm...anything else Alexx?"

"Promised me Horatio that you will get whomever dragged this woman to hell and back. This wasn't someone taken off the street. This is someone who was taking care of herself. Her teeth are in good shape and her health seemed to be good as well, before she was tortured."

"Why do you think torture?"

"Horatio, this woman reminds me of someone from a P.O.W. Camp. Her injuries were inflicted systematically. Her hair was shaved off."

"Shaved? It couldn't be a result of chemo treatments?"

"If her hair loss were due to chemo treatments. Then our Jane Doe wouldn't have any hair on her body at all. She still has her eyelashes and eyebrows."

"Okay," Horatio nodded. "Okay...I'm going to have Natalia come by and take pictures and trace evidence from our Jane Doe. Hopefully someone is missing her and has put out a missing persons report."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Larry and Brenda Butler, the snowbirds from Canada; looked up when Frank and Horatio entered the interrogation room. "More questions Sgt. Tripp?" Larry asked.

"Mr. And Mrs. Butler. I'm Lt. Horatio Caine of the Crime lab," Horatio said, removing his sunglasses. "I just have several more questions to ask. You said in your statement that you were going to stop at another rest stop off the I-95, but decided not to. Why is that?"

"We started to pull in, but Brenda got nervous when she saw that there were already a group of bikers there in the area," Larry explained.

"I got nervous when I saw their logo on the backs of their jackets," Brenda spoke up. "We have motorcycle gangs up in Canada. And some are really hard core. So when I saw that this group called themselves the 'Satan's Spawn' – I told Larry to floor it and get us out of there before they decided to cause trouble."

"Satan's Spawn – dd you say?" Horatio questioned, tilting his head curiously.

"Yes," Brenda nodded. "Now maybe it was just a tough name that they just happened to have. But I didn't want us to get involved in anything."

"Okay," Horatio nodded. "Okay...so when you went past that stop, did you see any vehicles other than their bikes?"

"No," Brenda answered, shaking her head. "Just the bikes."

"A dirty, white van passed us on the I-95 and I saw it turning into the same stop with all the cycles in my rearview mirror," Larry said, suddenly remembering the vehicle in question.

"Did you happen to notice the license plate? Or distinguishing marks on the van?" Frank asked.

"Sorry no," Larry answered. "It was just a rust bucket. I couldn't help wonder how it managed to pass the safety inspections."

"Okay. Thank you Mr. And Mrs. Butler," Horatio said, nodding to Frank. "I hope that you will enjoy your visit here in Florida."

"I'll get someone to escort you out of the building," said Frank, gesturing to an uniformed officer.

"Could you tell us how that poor woman is doing?" Brenda asked. "Is she still alive?"

"She's in critical condition in the hospital. She is holding on, but it is still touch and go. Her injuries are quite severe," Horatio replied.

"Hopefully she will pull through," Larry said.

"We'll keep her in our thoughts and prayers," Brenda stated.