Title: Escape from Rikers Island
Chapter 3 - Nature, an Unwilling Accomplice
A/N: well a BIG THANKS to those still sticking with this story. I know this story is different from my usual style and I do apologize if it's not what you are used to but hopefully you'll like the rest of this short ficlet and thanks in advance.
Throughout dinner Stella tries to concentrate on the soothing sound of Mac's voice; talking in general about various non descript things; but not being able to push aside a growing feeling in the pit of her stomach, one telling her that something evil besides the storm was brewing right now. A warning? But for what?
"Stella?" Mac's baritone voice breaks her thoughts and calls once again for her eyes to lock with his.
"Sorry I uh..." she starts with a heavy sigh, followed by a warm smile. "I didn't sleep very well last night."
Mac looks at his watch and Stella immediately curses herself for offering the truth in haste; not really wanting the night to end. His eyes lock with hers once again; starting their futile search for answers that she won't easily offer now that she's back to a lucid frame of mind.
"Felix?" Mac queries; not realizing that the man's name he's offering is cursing his right now.
"The events from yesterday Mac, plain and simple."
"Then it's time to call it a night."
"Next time dinner is on me," she informs him as they reach for their coats. Mac's quick actions ensure she's able to redress for the elements outside with his help; delighting in the feel of his strong hands resting on her shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze; his body inches from hers and her heart rate once again elevated. He was frugal at best with his public displays of affection; not a man to openly show how he feels; so any bit of attention her mind and heart clings to, silently begging for him to continue and praying he'll realize his actions will never be in vain.
Mac quickly gathers his coat; following after Stella as they head for the front door, neither really wanting to head back outside into the cold reality that winter was serving for dessert. Just before Mac's finger enclose around the door handle, Stella stops his actions, prompting his warm blue eyes to look over at her once again.
"Thank you for dinner Mac," Stella whispers as she leans in closer; taking a chance to offer him something more than a mere verbal accolade; her lips resting on his cheek, flooding his very being with warmth and passion. And although the kiss only lasts a few seconds and his lips weren't even the lucky recipient, his brain ensures that he'll now fall asleep with her scent on his face; his heart longing for something a bit more substantial in the long run.
"You're welcome," he murmurs in return, his warm breath sending small shivers down her spine; a feeling that would trump even the coolest breath from nature itself. Stella holds his gaze a few seconds longer; daring the moment to last but once again offering a silent curse as a few comments from patrons mentioning they need to pass, break the moment between them.
"Sleep well tonight," Stella tries as her hand rests on his, giving it one last loving squeeze and forcing the other hand to long for even a brief snippet of skin on skin.
"You too," he offers in return as he finally holds the door open, trying to shield her body from the new onslaught of rain and wind as he escorts her to a waiting cab, not caring about his wellbeing. He whispers an 'I'll see you tomorrow,' being rewarded with a warm smile and then hurries to his own golden chariot, his apartment his final stop for the night. The fact that his mind now dwells on his evening with Stella; his brain replaying and reliving every glorious second, ensures that tonight his dreams should be pleasant and not the tormented affair they were the night before when Felix Reite took center stage for the better part of his sleeping adventure.
Mac reaches his apartment, a bit physically exhausted but still mentally alert; his brain wishing that he was coming home to enjoy a romantic interlude before bed, instead of just catching the sports highlights or perhaps enjoying a brief nightcap to end the evening.
He glances at a picture of him and Stella on his fridge and smiles. "Thank you for tonight," he whispers, placing his finger to his lips and then allowing it to rest for a few seconds on her face; a silent kiss, one he was unable to offer her in return when they were at the restaurant.
His mind drifts back to victim number two and the discussion that he and Stella had with the grieving widow; his body still tightening as his brain forces him to relive those painful moments.
'I never told him I loved him this morning Detective Taylor.'
'I'm sure he knew.'
'But I never said it. Why would one just assume something so important as love?'
And she was right; love and feelings that dwell upon the heart are sentiments that need to be verbalized, not kept locked away under a shell that he gloats is impenetrable. 'Could have been you Mac...' Stella's tormented tone pulls him back from his musings, his mind now wondering what it would actually be like to offer her those words.
"You need sleep," he lightly commands himself as he finally turns off the final light; walking toward his bedroom in the dark. But as soon as he flips on his light, an image of himself, crudely bound and bloodied with Felix Reite looming over his helpless frame is displayed and his heart explodes.
'Help me...' the lifeless body calls to him for help.
'You're next Taylor!' Felix taunts as the knife plunges into the image once again; a horrified gasp escaping from Mac's lips as the image quickly fades and he's left alone in the tormented stillness of his bedroom. With an angry curse and not wanting Felix to once again dominate his thoughts, Mac quickly changes, heading back into the living room and flipping on the TV to drown out the howling from the storm outside; another assault from an invisible foe.
He looks at the phone, so desperate to call Stella; knowing that just hearing even one second of her melodious voice would put his mind and heart at ease. But he also knows it's not fair to just burden her when he has a problem, knowing he never just picks up the phone to call and say hello, just because he was thinking of her. Do it, call her! His brain commands.
"I need to see if she got home okay," Mac justifies as he reaches for the phone, quickly dialing her number and praying her voice will force Felix's demented laughter out of his weary brain.
"Mac?" Stella asks in wonder. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
He was right, telling himself this time I told you so was sheer delight; her voice making Felix disappear and his apartment the have of solitude it once did.
"Just wanted to make sure you got home okay," he answers in half truth.
"I did thank you. And did you survive?"
"Surprisingly yes," he adds with a slightly nervous chuckle; a tone not lost on the discerning ears of his partner.
"You okay? You sound umnervous?"
"No, I'm fine," he answers in haste; another rushed confession that she's quick to call him on.
"Are you alone?"
"Always," he states glumly.
"Mac?"
"Just lingering nightmares Stella, nothing to worry about."
"Felix?"
"Is locked away and I refuse to allow him to rob me of...well anything that he might take delight in doing. Even sleep."
"Want me to come over?" She asks in concern.
He thinks about her statement. Of course he wants her to come over; he wants to be with her every second of every day, unable to get enough of her smile, her laughter, her musical voice and her very presence that drives him crazy. But if he selfishly asked her to brave the elements just to have her sleep on the couch because he was afraid of a few harmless nightmares, he knows he'd mentally crucify himself and there would be no hope of anything further.
"Mac?" Stella presses.
"No, I'm okay. I don't want you to..."
"You would for me," she rightly counters.
"I just needed to hear your voice, I'm okay. Really," he tries to insist, his unoccupied hand curled tightly into a nervous fist. His brain shows him her image before him; dressed only in a sleep shirt, her tempting body calling to him for some sexual attention; an act he'd willingly perform without hesitation. But as he gives his head a slight shake her image fades and his shadow is the only thing keeping him company once again.
"Mac?"
"Sleep well Stella. I'm sorry if I woke you."
"You know you never need to say sorry for that right? And I will only hang up if you tell me you are going to get some real sleep."
"I promise I will," Mac rewards her kind efforts with a heartfelt sentiment. After finally saying goodnight; the image of her beautiful face, coupled with the soft mindless chatter from the TV in the background, ensure that Mac finally falls asleep in the chair that has now apportioned itself to his frame; used more often than his bed for sleeping in; Felix's nightmares kept at bay once again by Stella's musical voice; her words even able to drown out the pounding thunder from the storm outside.
XXXXXXXX
Getting up and ready for work the next morning; despite the cruel storm outside was easier for Stella than she first thought. When Mac had called, his voice was filled with veiled panic; fright no doubt caused by images his mind was seeing of himself, dying at Felix Reite's hands. But when she hung up, his mood had lifted considerably and she too was able to get some much needed rest; hurrying into the lab with a slight spring in her step; a feeling that even the angriest expression from nature itself wasn't able to dampen.
She walks past his office, notices him embroiled in a tense discussion with Sheldon, no doubt about some new evidence connecting Felix Reite to their latest case. She dumps her coat and then heads back to Mac's office.
"Morning," he offers warmly as Sheldon had already taken his leave. "Sleep well?"
"I should be asking you that?"
"You did yesterday," he counters with a slight frown. "But I did, thanks to you."
"That's what I'm here for Mac," she utters in truth; her eyes locking with his and offering a whispered sentiment that extended beyond the safe confines of friendship; an unspoken invitation for something more than a goodnight over the phone?
"What did Sheldon find?" Stella is quick to inquire; seeing Flack heading toward them and wanting to spare Mac any kind of emotional embarrassment; although she suspects, that out of everyone, maybe aside from Jessica, Flack suspects they are starting to develop a new understanding between them; a romantic notion that neither dare to take public as of yet.
"The knife patterns and slash markings are the same as the other's we found; this is the handiwork of Felix Reite. The brand of knife is identical."
"So Felix has an assistant."
"Speaking of the devil," Flack interrupts them; hovering in the doorway and forcing both CSI's to turn in his direction. "He wants a deal."
"Pardon?" Mac asks in disbelief.
"What does he have?" Stella pipes up.
"The name of his accomplice, or so he claims. But there is a catch."
"Always is," Stella groans.
"I can't take away the notion of life without parole," Mac confirms.
"He wants to tell Mac in person."
"What?" Stella's turn to ask in shock.
"Apparently he doesn't like me as much," Flack shakes his head. "Go figure."
Mac looks past Stella, his eyes fixing themselves outside, his brain already wondering what the road conditions to Rikers Island are like. She offers a slight shake of her head, her brain screaming to him to stay put and not even contemplate such a fools notion. However, when she sees him turn to Flack, she knows her worst fears have been confirmed.
"Mac, you have got to be serious. Are you actually considering this?"
"Is this a serious confession?" Mac asks Flack.
"Apparently Felix thinks it is."
"Mac?"
"To stop this senseless carnage? You're damn right I am considering it," Mac growls as he turns to leave, Flack standing in his way.
"Mac it's like Hurricane Katrina out there, you can't go right now. It'll keep until morning," Flack tries.
"And if his accomplice kills again tonight? You want to live with that?" Mac argues, Stella offering a whispered curse to his back. "If the roads were impassible I'd have an excuse, I want this guy and I am not going to let a few unruly waves or gusts of wind stop me from visiting him. I'm going."
"Fine, then I'm going with you," Stella pipes up.
"I can't vouch for your safety, besides Rikers isn't..."
"I'm not going to go and talk to him with you; I'll wait in the Warden's office, but you are not going there alone," she insists.
"Don can come with me."
"Actually I can't. I got Hardenbrook's arraignment to deal with. Sinclair nailed my ass on that one."
"There is no argument here Mac, I'm coming with you and that's final."
"Next time, tell me in private," Mac hisses at Don as he pushes past and disappears into the hallway.
"Sorry," Flack frowns as he looks at Stella in concern. "I know he's just concerned."
"I know he is too. But you did the right thing," she tries to assure him. "Trust me you would have felt more wrath than Hurricane Katrina if you had let Mac go out there alone and something happened to him and I didn't know or found out later."
"And if something happens to both of you?"
"Then you can say I told you so," she retorts and he just shakes his head in disbelief. "Nothing is going to happen to us. That place is like Fort Knox."
"Stella..."
"We'll call on the way back."
"And you get after Mac for being stubborn?" Flack groans.
"Who on earth do you think I learned my bad habits from?" Stella counters.
"I'll have the national guard standing by just in case, trust me that road could get washed out."
"Mac is a good driver," she utters, trying to convince herself that some truth resides in those few simple words. She reaches the elevator at the same time as Mac, feeling his tension threatening her personal space. "Mac?"
"Stella I don't want you to come."
"I am not letting you go out there alone."
"It's not a place for women," Mac insists.
"Rikers Island has a prison for...why the hell am I justifying this to you," Stella grumbles as the elevator starts to take them to the basement level. "Felix Reite threatened you and I am not letting you go and see him alone."
"Do you know how many guards he'll have in the room?"
"Why are you still arguing with me?" Stella wonders as they reach the drivers side of the Avalanche.
With another whispered curse, offered in the name of his stubborn partner, Mac finally gets into the drivers side of the crossover vehicle and then starts it up, his heart rate starting to rise with the same momentum as the engine. Mac exits the underground parking lot, the vehicle once again being instantly assaulted by heavy winds and strong rains.
He briefly swivels to the left, catching his partner's worried glance and then turning back; once again not wanting to show her any kind of outward display of apprehension or fear. Although inside his mind and heart were starting to feel the ill effects of his brain showing him images of their demise at the hand of the cruel elements.
Although he knows the route to Rikers very well, Mac still programs in the address, the GPS showing them the best way to the Francis Buono Bridge; Rikers Island Prison their intended destination. With the wind the strength it is, Mac's ears pick up a few muffled gasps from Stella as he sometimes struggles to keep the Avalanche on the straight and narrow path ahead.
"You know only a fool would venture out in this weather. Mac what if this is a wild goose chase? He knows the weather, he's probably put a hex on the bridge or something."
"Didn't think you were superstitious Stella," Mac comments.
"Humor me Mac," Stella grumbles as she keeps her nervous eyes on the road ahead. They finally reach Queens, the only area that houses the entrance and exit to Rikers Island; the Buono Bridge still ahead. Mac feels his heart rate starting to increase as his eyes fix on the flashing amber caution lights ahead; telling them that only a damned fool would risk tempting fate by crossing the tempestuous waters of the raging East River.
Not seeing anyone else coming toward them, Mac heads for the middle lane, the speed slow and deliberate, his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles hurt and within a few minutes has to somewhat relax them or face new consequences.
Mac feels the truck slightly veering to the left, the deadly waves lapping onto the road, pulling back with force and hoping to take the unsuspecting couple with it; its gaping mouth ready to digest the two brave fools.
"Mac!" Stella gasps once more as Mac struggles to put the Avalanche back on course. The crossover has weight in its favor, but even Mac knows that if the storm does indeed pick up strength as predicted the ride home could be the true test of their nerves.
Although only three quarters of a mile long; the Buono Bridge seems to span for eternity; Mac not caring about the slow pace as long as it keeps them in the middle lane and away from the deadly tentacles of the East River. The wind continues to whip around the black vehicle; the lone traveler being watched by merciless eyes. Mac hears a distinct groaning and then looks at Stella in a panic.
"Mac, this bridge sounds like..."
"It'll hold," Mac tries to assure her; not believing the lie himself.
"One part is being repaired," Stella utters. "I think it only has a few floating wooden platforms holding it..."
"Trust me tonight we'll make it," Mac tries again. "And if not and if we are stuck there until the storm clears, I'll make it up to you."
"Hope springs eternal," Stella retorts in sarcasm.
Mac's lips offer a slight smirk as they finally come to a stop on the other side of the Buono Bridge; another loud crash of thunder rattling the fiberglass hull; laughing at the puny humans in its way. A few more claps of thunder rumble overhead, reminding them to get to their destination, get their business done and get home before the darkness takes over and unleashes its evil minions.
"Is that..." Stella starts as small flakes of snow now start to reveal themselves. "Snow. It's trying to be."
"I thought you liked winter."
"Winter in Manhattan yes; ice skating at Rockefeller center; making snow angels in Central Park and sharing a cup of hot chocolate beside a fireplace indoors. Talking to a man who likes to carve up bodies that resemble my partner in the middle of Hurricane Satan is not my ideal picture of winter!" Stella shoots back with a hint of disdain in her voice.
"I'll remember that when we get back," Mac notes.
"Which part?"
"All of it; it all sounds fun."
"Ever done any of those things?" Stella asks, hoping that her foray into a topic other than the weather will lift her mood even a millimeter.
"No, but I think I'd like to," Mac confesses in truth, Stella looking at him in warm surprise.
"Shall I hold you to that statement?"
"Think you'd like that?" Mac counters and her lips purse. "Trust me Stella, I'm going to go in, get the name from Felix Reite and be at your side in less than a half hour. I don't want to stay here longer than I have to."
Mac stops the Avalanche just outside the Eric Taylor Center; the holding facility that houses sentenced adult males but whose holding faculty was vacant and available for the noted serial killer who already has a room waiting inside the confining walls of Taylor Center.
"This place gives me the creeps," Stella mutters as she hurries beside Mac, the daunting entrance the maximum security facility beckoning the unsuspecting visitors. Once inside, Stella feels her paranoia starting to garner the same strength as the storm as various eyes of male eyes turn and lock onto the frame of the beautiful woman gracing their presence.
Mac feels Stella stiffen in place beside him and as he locks eyes with one interested prison guard, feels his inner male jealousy starting to take over his normally rash intellect. He narrows his gaze, daring the other male challenger to make a move; but inside is grateful when the other competitor offers a slight sneer and then turns away.
"I will be fine," Stella whispers as her fingers gently brush one of Mac's hardened fists.
"Right," Mac replies in a hushed tone, his mind still swimming with anxiety at leaving her alone with a group of strange men in an unforgiving facility.
"Warden Lewis Miller," Mac asks as he signs in; stepping aside and allowing Stella to do the same.
"I'm Prison Captain Stanley Jensen," a man about Flack's height comes forward. "I spoke with Detective Don Flack this morning, right after Felix Reite said he had information that would warrant a deal."
"Felix Reite is heading to death row," Mac states firmly.
"Only if the state doesn't do it's job," the low grumble belonging to the voice of Warden Lewis Miller is heard from behind. "Welcome to hell Detective's..."
"Taylor and Bonasera," Mac offers. "I was invited to see Felix Reite."
"I'll need you to check your side arm before you see Reite," Warden Miller instructs.
"I know," Mac counters, as he looks past the large man before him, his eyes once again committing to memory all the faces watching the duo intently.
"Gotta ask Detective Taylor; giving that all hell is breaking loose outside, why on earth didn't you wait until Morning?" Warden Miller asks when the power flickers overhead; another reminder that the storm outside will have the last laugh.
"Because if this ends tonight, a dry cleaning bill will be a small price to pay," Mac replies. "You have backup power just in case right?"
"Small comfort if the generator house is taken out by the storm," Warden Miller offers in sarcasm.
"Can I see him now?" Mac queries with a hint of impatience in his tone.
"Yeah fine. Detective Bonasera, I doubt you'll want to accompany your partner into that holding cell."
"I am not afraid of Felix Reite, Warden."
"Your partner should be."
"I'm not," Mac growls.
"Detective Bonasera can wait in my office or waiting room if she'd like. Jensen you want to take Detective Taylor to see our special guest."
"Sure," Jensen nods to Mac to follow after him.
Mac takes Stella aside, his fingers gently clutching her elbow, but applying just enough pressure to signal in her brain that his actions are more than just a professional courtesy.
"I don't intend to be longer than about fifteen, twenty minutes most. If he's just playing around, I'll be back and we'll call it a night. Keep your side arm close and don't hesitate..."
"Mac?"
"Just a feeling Stella."
"I hate when you have those feelings," Stella lightly groans.
"Me too. Be right back."
"Mac."
"Yeah?"
"Watch your back. Around here I'm not the one these guys are looking at."
"Trust me, no matter where you go that's always the case," he adds softly, his lips slightly curling. However, as soon as he pulls away, his face is back to the professional picture it was when he walked in; his heart racing the further away from his partner he gets.
"Come with me Detective Bonasera," Warden Miller instructs.
Stella watches Mac slowly walking down the dimly lit hallway; her fists curling and her stomach tightening as she listens to various male cat calls, whistles, lewd comments and unacceptable speech.
"Jensen will take care of your partner," Warden Miller tells her, forcing Stella's eyes to turn back to his, a frown being offered.
Mac keeps his eyes fixed firmly ahead; having been in places like this before, and not wanting to justify any of the attention being wrongly directed toward him. A few make his stomach want to involuntarily give up it's contents, but his facial expression remains unamused and unchanged, not wanting to show any sort of human weakness to the inhuman miscreants on either side of him.
Mac watches Jensen nod to one of the other Prison Guards, who buzzes them through the first set of barred doors, sealing him inside the belly of the steel beast. He reaches the holding cell that contains Felix Reite and instantly feels his adrenaline starting to build momentum; his anxiety on edge so that even the faintest whisper, forces his eyes in another direction.
"Don't worry Detective Taylor, you won't be in there alone. Lieutenant Chang has your back," Captain Jensen tries to assure him. "And I can see and hear everything."
"I just need a name and then I'll gladly take my leave," Mac huffs as he once again signs a visitors register. He leaves his coat outside; his side arm still waiting at the front entrance, his partner tucked away inside the Warden's office; the storm building to a deadly strength just outside.
Mac slowly pushes the door open, locking eyes with the devil himself as he makes his presence known.
"Welcome to Taylor manor," Felix Reite greets Mac with a mock bow. "If I didn't know the history of this god forsaken place, I would swear that the city named it after it's big shot cop," he laughs as he pushes back another strand of black greasy hair; his nicotine stained fingers extending a gesture for Mac to sit opposite him. "Doubt you'd feel at home in a place like this."
"Cut the crap Felix. You have a name and I want it."
"Please sit awhile. Why just rush off?"
"Not in the mood for idle chit chat."
"Don't you want to ask me why?" Felix asks as he leans back in his chair and gazes at Mac with an evil glint in his dark eyes.
"Why what?"
"Why I do what I do," Felix pauses. "And enjoy it?"
"I know why and I don't care."
"Oh I'm special Detective Taylor."
"You can delude yourself all you want Felix, in the end all you'll be remembered as is a petty criminal. Common actually."
"THERE IS NOTHING COMMON ABOUT ME!" Felix shouts as one of his tattooed fists slams down on the table, forcing Mac's body to involuntarily shudder and the guard behind Felix to flinch; his fingers automatically going for his concealed sidearm.
"You asked me here for a reason Felix, stop wasting my time!" Mac growls.
"Does your mind ever conjure their screams Taylor? Ever see your own face at my hands; helpless and alone," Felix starts to goad once more; his questions starting to slowly dig under Mac's tight defenses, rendering his mind helpless to the images that Felix wants him to see. "Ever wonder when you look down at them why they all sort of look the same?"
"Felix..."
"In fact...you know now that I look at you..." he stops once more, his lips curling into a darkened grin. "There is a similar resemblance. Want to know why?"
"I will not play your game Felix. If you don't give me what I want..."
"Did you remember what I said?" Felix wonders as his newly folded hands slide closer to Mac, his lithe frame bending forward over the table with ease; Mac's tense posture slowly pulling back, ensuring his personal space stays in tact. "Oh I don't bite," Felix mocks. "Not my thing," he finishes with a wink.
"Listen..."
"Now back to my question. Do you remember what I said in the warehouse before your partner so rudely interrupted us? That is a very annoying habit of hers," Felix states with a serious expression. "Interrupting us. I'm glad she won't get the chance again," Felix finishes with a tone that reverberates to the core of Mac's very soul, his brain calling 'Stella' automatically; a gesture of fright and comfort. However, not willing to show that the serial killer's words are having any affect on him at all, Mac pastes on his tight frown and continues.
"You can sit there with a smug expression all you want Felix. You'll never see the light of day again, I swear to you that much right now!"
"You know who else won't see the light of day?" Felix continues to stall for time.
"A name Felix or I'm leaving right now and I'll plug you into the damn chair myself," Mac snaps in anger.
"You know you are feisty," Felix laughs as he pulls back, allowing his frame to rest idly. "I like that. You know who else was feisty also?"
"Tell me what I want to know and you'll see a side you wish you hadn't."
"Oh really?" Felix arches a twisted brow. "Do tell," he smiles as the power flickers. "But do tell before the power goes out. Tell me, are you afraid of the dark Detective Taylor? I'm not. I like the dark, but then evil always does."
"Guard!" Mac shouts and Felix just offers an audible huff and rolls his eyes.
"Fine Detective Taylor. What's it worth to you."
"Life."
"Yours or mine?" Felix counters as he leans in closer, his eyes measuring Mac in a way that sends more than a few nervous shivers down his spine. "Because I think your life is worth a lot more than a name. Don't you agree?"
"I'll give you to the count of..." Mac starts when fate decides it's finally time to intervene.
The loud grumble outside starts to build strength; gathering thunderous momentum before it crashes down on the small island with all of nature's fury; unleashing it's minions without remorse.
A large crash is heard outside; a few whispered gasps, curses and shouts before the power flickers once more. The building shakes from the pounding outside; no one really knowing the damage done or that the only escape route now take out by the unseen strength of a Poseidon-like force that had been knapping in the East River.
Another loud clap is heard and then...
Darkness...
A/N: Please leave me a note before you go if you want and if you want to flame why are you reading? Thanks to the rest.
PS: Just created a new M rated one shot called (Who says Housework...) hopefully you like it also!