Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: New Orleans or its characters…

Author's Note: This little scenario has been brewing for a while, but after seeing the preview for the new episode this week, I decided the overall plot of this one couldn't be driven by Cade getting into trouble, since the canon would surely contradict my playing. So there's a different mystery surrounding LaSalle getting into trouble, and subsequently taking Brody with him.

There was no reason for her heart to be beating like a thoroughbred's hooves against the track during the Kentucky Derby. Because even though Meredith Brody hadn't been keeping a precise count, the agent would swear to having cleared at least a couple hundred premises during her career in law enforcement. And come on, there had to be at least a dozen commercial kitchens included in there... right?

But god, none so creepy.

Of course the light switch had failed, and there was only the beam of her flashlight and the ominous green glow of various appliances sporting clocks and the like. And if this was a horror movie instead of her real life, she would've been shouting at the stupid woman exploring the dark back of the currently closed bar to get the hell out of there and call for backup. But Merri wasn't some vapid character in a slasher flick. She was simply a federal agent who'd been concerned about her partner, had sort of been following him -no, um, keeping an eye out for him, because as LaSalle and Pride were fond of pointing out, they were 'family'. So it was perfectly natural that seeing through his nonchalant request for a few days off to go fishing with some old buddies, she would be concerned.

Pride, of course, had seen through the younger man's cover story as well. She would've been severely worried about the veteran agent if he had bought his good friend's tale of his leaving an open case for a fun, carefree week with friends. But when pressed on the subject, Pride sighed, said LaSalle had told him in confidence that it was a 'family matter'. She'd argued that they were always saying the close-knit NCIS agents were family, but apparently not in this case. It'd been obvious that Cade was stressing his brother out over the past few weeks, but this was different. She'd seen it in his eyes, in his posture, the tone of his voice. The problems with his brother manifested in a sort of bone-deep, weariness that was more sadness than anxiety. Over the past week, LaSalle's behavior had been distracted, jumpy and nervous even.

So she'd been keeping tabs on the man in as subtle a way as she could, even recruiting Patton's help (bribing him with promises that she'd be 'wingwoman' in some elaborate ploy he had for getting in with this one lady that had been playing hard to get) to digitally track LaSalle so she wouldn't have to get so close as to be caught. Because, despite playing the Dimwitted Southern Boy on occasion, the man was a wily creature. And a liar. He'd been bouncing all about the parish, but none of those locations were remotely fishing holes. And none of the persons she'd spotted him with were the 'good ol' boy' fishing buddy type, if one could judge from the gravity of their interactions... And their unsavoriness.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into, LaSalle?

Had he gone here, into the dark restaurant to meet yet another shady character? About what? Had there been an argument? There were no signs of a struggle, but it had been three hours since Patton had pinged his phone at the location... And there was no sign of life at all from the dark building. The last four days, she'd been playing it cool, keeping her distance, trying to gather up evidence, she supposed, before confronting the man with the lies he'd told her and Pride. But, truthfully, she'd been feeling guilty about, well, basically stalking him. Almost as guilty as she was concerned.

"LaSalle?" Creepy as it was in that place, she had to battle her primal instincts to be quiet, to go unseen by the lethal sort of creatures that prowled in the dark in order to call out for her partner, who she knew must be somewhere in the pitch black depths of the building himself. His truck was still parked outside. He had to be here. Unless he'd left with someone else, willing or... "Anyone in here? LaSalle?"

There was a blue glow coming from around the corner in the back of the kitchen. Slowly, carefully, Merri made her way towards it, abruptly swinging around the corner, gun first. It was the walk-in freezer. Someone had left a light on in the cold storage room. She knew from her waitressing days in college that it wasn't standard procedure. With a feeling of dread, as if a half-decayed skeleton or an axe-wielding maniac might jump out at her at any moment, she slowly -very slowly, like .000003 miles per hour- approached the little circular glass window that was aglow with florescent light.

She swallowed down the knot in her throat before peering in through the frosted glass. There were metal shelves crammed with nondescript containers, boxes, tubs, aluminum and freezer paper wrapped packages. And against the far wall, a dark figure, lying slumped on the floor. It was a familiar shape despite its boneless posture, wearing familiar clothes. The latch was tricky, and she fumbled with it frantically as she panicked, trying to get the heavy door open. Finally, she yanked it free and heaved on the thick, insulated door, throwing it open and dashing desperately to the man lying unmoving on the cold tile floor, slipping slightly on the icy ceramic as she slid onto her knees beside him, reaching for his shoulder to shake him.

"LaSalle! Come on. Wake up." Oh, god, he'd frozen to death. He'd succumbed to hypothermia while she was staying back, trying not to meddle, to stick her nose into her partner's business more than she already had. Why? Because she wouldn't like it if he'd done the same to her. But where did that get anyone? They were supposed to have each other's back, and she'd let him down.

"Brody?" His drawl was even thicker, slower than usual as his head rolled back and he blinked sluggishly, his dark blue eyes trying to focus on her face.

"Hey, partner," She smiled, feeling overwhelmingly relieved. "What happened? Couldn't find the fudgsicles and decided to just lie down and die?"

"Nah." LaSalle made a pathetic sort of noise, not one of pain, but maybe of stunted frustration, as if he were bemoaning the sluggish state of his hypothermic body. "Choco Tacos or bust."

She laughed a little.

"Let's get you out of here. And maybe when you're all warmed up, and if you behave yourself at the hospital, I'll buy out an entire ice cream truck." With a little effort -the disoriented man wasn't much help- she snaked her hands beneath his arms, dismayed to find that the notable warm spot on any person's body was actually cool to the touch. And when she lifted up, trying to coax him to find his feet, she discovered that he'd also lost control of his extremities, definitely his legs, maybe even his arms. He was a dead weight. And although not a large man, he was heavier than she could lift unassisted.

Alright, then.

"I'm going to get help, okay?" His eyes were closed again. She squeezed his arm and he gave her a half-focused glance, which she realized was the only acknowledgement she was going to receive.

Pulling out her phone, she turned around to find that the door on the freezer had closed behind her, sending a brief flit of panic through her chest. But, again, those years spent waitressing reassured her that there was always a release latch on the inside for safety reasons, such as this situation. Only... she realized as she approached the sealed door, why hadn't LaSalle used it. The outer latch had been sticky, but not locked. And, oh shit.

The safety release was completely broken off...

A/N: What's LaSalle up to? Was it just by accident that he was trapped in the freezer? How will they get out?

A/N2: Haven't quite decided which genre this will be... whether it will be 'Cherri' (shippy) or not...