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Horatio crossed the florescent yellow police tape cordoning of the house. Ryan's house. The man who usually never showed his emotions practically radiated guilt and resolve. He made every step carefully, knowing that very cop had their eyes on him. It was well known that whenever someone from his team went missing, he would do anything to get them back. He blamed himself for this; he should have kept a better eye on Mr Wolfe.

'No!' he thought to himself, 'Ryan.' He knew that constantly calling him Mr Wolfe annoyed him but Ryan never seemed to complain. Another problem the young CSI felt he had to burden alone. It made Horatio wonder what else Ryan felt he could handle alone. Horatio knew he should treat him like the others. As long as Ryan was missing, Horatio would not rest. They would find the young OCD beat cop who had being a CSI in his blood. That description that he gave him brought a small smile to the old homicide detective. Horatio walked up to Eric, who was dusting the door knob for prints.

"So what do we have Eric?" The older man asked him.

"Nothing much, just a broken into house, a knocked over meal and a missing CSI" Eric finished with guilt underlining his words. Horatio then probally looked at his team. Eric had small red circles encasing his usually bright eyes. He constantly stared at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with Horatio. Calleigh was also red eyed, but her eyes told him she was determined. He knew it was to get Ryan back, but also to apologise to him. Natalia was quiet, just staring at the house. Once a place where their friend lived, now a constant reminder of their friend's disappearance. Horatio removed his sunglasses before entering Ryan's home. He owed him that much.

His house was remarkably clean, white covered every wall. His DVD's were all in A-Z order by name, all dusted once a week, maybe more. The same went for the CD's and books. His keys were neatly in a small wooden bowl by the door, so Ryan could grab them on his way out. The young man had made his house so he could get everything for work easily. The only thing out of place was the small plastic bowl, which lay discarded on the floor, milk in a small puddle around it. Horatio froze, seeing an image of Ryan, lying dead on the floor, blood pooling around him, his face a mask of pain.

"Horatio?" Natalia shook him out of his daydream.

"What do we do?" she asked him. She was still a new CSI so didn't know the ropes. Horatio told her to check for anything that could help with DNA or trace. She nodded and walked slowly to the kitchen. Carefully, she stepped over the discarded meal; she could already see how this played out. Ryan was sat at the table, eating, when someone grabbed him from behind. Probally Chloroform was used to subdue him; he struggled briefly, knocking over his food by accident. Natalia couldn't bring herself to read the note. She cared for Ryan as a deep friend, he had helped her when the meth lab had gone up, risking his own life to help her out. Some Russian Psyco had kidnapped her friend and now had a full team of guilty CSI's on his tail. He would pay for taking Ryan from them.

CSI-MIAMI-CSI-MIAMI-CSI-MIAMI-CSI-MIAMI-CSI-MIAMI-CSI-MIAMI-CSI-MIAMI-CSI-MIAMI

Ryan's head pounded as he woke up. A small feeling of Déjà vu was brought to mind. He tried to shake his head, but something was holding his head in place. The young man tried to open his eyes but the bright light and pounding headache kept them closed tight. He slowly pieced back together what had happened. He was eating; he had got that, his usual meal of cereal and semi skimmed milk. Then someone had grabbed him, causing him to knock over the meal. His floor would be ruined, his first thought was. He laughed, even in a bad situation, his mind liked to stay positive.

Slowly, Ryan cracked open one eye, looking around the unfortunately too familiar room. It was even scarier in real life than in his haunting dream. He closed his eye, trying to wish himself back into his house, pleading it was a dream. He started to say the words silently, mouthing the words.

"Praying won't help you" Spoke an unseen person, but the voice was unmistakable. Ryan eyes flew open, staring holes into the man. The man was taken aback by this, he had been watching Ryan for the last month, the man seemed traumatised by all this, yet he was fighting back. The kidnapper knew that if he didn't break this sudden courage, he could lose all control of him. He turned around to the cart behind him; he could hear Ryan take a sharp breath, a scared breath. He smiled, that was a good thing and he grabbed the wire pullers. Turning slowly Ryan's blood ran cold; he was holding the wire pullers that had pulled out his tooth. The young man tried to back away, but sitting in a chair didn't help.

"Last time, I never even told you my name Mr Wolfe" He spoke evilly, walking slowly towards Ryan.

"It's Evan, by the way." Ryan eyes grew wide. His knowledge from kidnappings was vast; he had worked kidnappings when he was a beat cop. If the kidnapper told you his name, then you were not making it out of there. Not so you can identify the kidnapper. No kidnapper was that stupid, Ryan also knew that personal kidnappings never ended well either.

'Great' Ryan thought doomed.

Evan knew that Ryan knew this, so instead of going for physical pain, for now, he would go for emotional pain.

"Mr Wolfe, you do know your friends aren't even looking for you. They still hate you, don't they? Even your hero hates you, he thinks you are one big disappointment" Evan knew his taunts had hit their mark, Ryan's eyes already showed defeat, which would make it easier to break him. The young man was almost in tears, despair rolling off his form. Though he already looked broken, Ryan was far from it. Evan had left him alone, to think. Where they looking for him? Had they even noticed he had gone? Probally not, they hadn't last time. Ryan's thoughts were in turmoil. The young man tried to cling to the one thought that he would have to get himself out of this.

Evan was right, wasn't he? Ryan had seen the looks, heard the talk behind his back and read the notes. They didn't care for him, no-one did. Ryan hung his head, just as Evan returned.

"Enjoy your little think?" He asked innocently, his voice filled with fake concern. Ryan looked him in the eye, trying to convey the hatred of him through his chocolate eyes. Evan got the message, returning to the table, he picked up the baseball bat. Ryan did a double take, there wasn't a baseball bat before, was there? Evan walked over to him, grinning, before swinging it. The baseball bat connected with his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Evan swung again; a sharp crack could be heard echoing through the small room. Ryan had a small knowledge of medicine, but even he knew that he now had a broken rib. He cried out with every hit, more pain came crashing with the wooden bat from hell.

Evan was getting bored; he had work to do, setting the trap for Ryan's friends. The next swing was aimed not at his chest, but his head. Spots of light danced across the CSI's vision before sinking into the welcome embrace of unconsciousness. As Ryan's head fell forward, Evan went over to the table, grabbing the camera, taking several pictures of his captive, he smiled and left. The next part of the plan was coming together.

What is the next part of the evil plan that Evan cooked up? I know his name probally isn't Evan, but I made it up. Sue me. Here's the review, story alert and favourites bit.

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