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!
As soon as Georgie came back to reality, nausea rose in her throat. Her mouth was dry, sticky, and the headache was so strong it was like a wrecking ball hitting her again and again. Trying to open her eyes to the blinding rays of sunshine coming in through the semi-closed old-fashioned blinds, Georgie found herself in an unfamiliar room - it had the familiar smell of the swamp bayous on New Orleans, though.
Slowly, she sat up and found the strength to really look around: she was in a bedroom, still dressed in the clothes she had had on when she had left Loretta's lab. The bad news was that she was handcuffed to the simple metallic bed. Her eyes fell on her wrists, discolored with thin red lines that indicated she had been out for an assuming long time.
Her head still pounding, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, in and out, trying to calm down the nausea. Eventually, despite the pain in her head, Georgie regained some level of composure. She opened her eyes and tried to understand where she was or what was happening. The air felt dusty – like no one had cleaned up in a long time – and it seemed like the bed was the only piece of furniture there. She though she saw some debris on the floor – or maybe some bricks, she couldn't be sure from her spot.
She did her best to get a grip on her situation, and yet she didn't have a clear idea of what had happened. She remembered walking home from work and that was it. The rest was as thick as fog. She thought she remembered a man, and music… but nothing else. Despite all of her experience, all of her training, she found herself helpless, with no idea of what was happening or why.
Hot tears burned her eyes and she cried quietly, not wanting to alert her captors of her wakefulness yet. Her mind filled with images of her baby girl and of Chris. When had she vanished? Did they already know she was gone? And what was going through their minds?
She wondered if her little girl comprehend what was going on, if she wondered where her mummy had gone. When Georgie's mother had succumbed to sickness and her father had become an empty shell of a human being, Georgie still remembered the sense of abandonment, the feeling of not being wanted – and not being enough for him to stay.
It wasn't rational, and even as an adult, it was hard to explain. It was a memory etched in her bones, under her skin. Maybe it was the ancestral fear of children of being all alone in the world. In that moment, as an unknown fate presented itself before her, she wondered if her daughter was feeling the same sense of loss.
Her thoughts shifted to her beloved Chris.
Chris had been alone for so long in the world, always providing for others but never for himself. He was the rock, the sun around which all the other planets orbited. Before her, he had only truly loved once, and the loss of Savannah had nearly been his downfall. She knew the feeling as she had buried her husband Noah years before, and the memory remained fresh in her mind.
She feared what would happen to Chris if he lost her too.
Would he struggle, like he had done after the loss of his first love? Would he abandon his children to themselves, like her own father did after the loss of his beloved wife?
Georgie wiped her tears on her sleeve and gave her head a shake to clear her mind. Now wasn't the time to get lost in those kinds of worries. She was still alive, which meant that whoever had taken her had done so for a reason. Someone wanted her - maybe even needed her - and she promised to use that to her own advantage.
She knew that statistics weren't exactly on her side - she had worked far too many crimes in her time at Robbery and Homicide to not be prepared for the worst outcome - but she had something that many victims didn't have.
She was a cop.
And one with a damn fine experience on top of it. More than that, she had a whole support system - her own village backing her up. Even though she feared that Chris could get lost in his own pain, oblivious to the rest of the world, King would never allow something bad to happen to one of his people. He would go to hell and back to get justice. She trusted her team, her little surrogate family, implicitly - maybe even more than she trusted Jethro.
They would get her back home, no matter what. They would make sure that Chris was all right, should the worst happen, and that he kept on being the good dad that he was. The amazing dad that he had always been, right from the moment he had learned she was carrying a baby.
Georgie lowered her chin, tears dripped onto her belly. She remembered the first time they had felt her baby kicking together, his gentle and warm touch against the bare skin of her stomach.
Suddenly overwhelmed, she felt like she was floundering. Her breathing grew short and heavy and her vision clouded. Her body ran hot and cold and sweat formed on her face.
A figure slowly approached her in the semi-darkness of the room and Georgie gasped. She tried to say something - maybe even beg – but the words refused to leave her lips.
The stranger cupped her check, with something akin to reverence and sweetness. Then, in complete silence, he pricked her right arm with something sharp. Her arm stung and then she was tired beyond reason. Georgie gulped, and gasped again, as the word went once again dark all around her.
"Well Troy, it's been a long while…"
King almost chuckled as sat before the inmate. Spooner had practically been his nemesis back when he had attempted to run the Militia, going as far as putting prices on both King's head and his daughter, Lauren. But now, with Spooner safely behind bars, all the fringe groups had fallen apart, warring between themselves rather than with the State..
King had to admit, prison was doing good to Spooner. He didn't look like the kind of man who was suffering or going through some big ordeal. In fact, he seemed as much in control as before, if not more. Even his appearance was more well-kept than when King had last seen him, which meant that the rumors were true. Maybe Spooner wasn't guiding his own super-militia any longer, but he was still well-connected and well-supplied. There was a good chance he had intel - the kind that Pride and his people needed right now.
"Can't say I'm happy to see you, but, I thought I'd oblige…" said Spooner, darkly. He showed off his handcuffed hands to his guests. "Since you've been so kind to get rid of that bitch for me. Guess who's back on top with her out of the way, huh?"
"Right," Gregorio said, her arms firmly crossed as she stood against a wall, playing disinterested cop. King did his best to hide a smirk. He knew that, with all of her experience with the FBI, she had seen far worse than this man. But they all were well aware that Spooner, a well-known criminal with a vendetta against him, could be the only way to find a lead to get their missing friend back. "Because you really think that the Militia is here to stay."
Spooner laughed, draping himself over the hard metallic chair. "Doll, say what you want. I'll not stay here for much longer…."
"Bitch, huh?" King said, looking at Gregorio instead of Spooner.
He thought of Spooner's old lawyer - a woman as cold as ice who looked as delicate as a flower, but really was a wild and rabid beast who controlled the Militia under Spooner's nose.
"Well, if you really don't like lawyers so much, maybe we could talk like true southern gentlemen and avoid harassing your counselor…" King offered.
Spooner wasn't an idiot. He wasn't the smartest man in the room, never had been, but he knew enough about people to understand that King needed him. He still held a grudge against this man and his team, however, and would have die before allowing King to forget it.
"Ok, Sunshine," Gregorio snapped. "We know you made business with the Viper Reserves. Either you gave them up or…"
Spooner laughed out loud as soon as Gregorio tried to menace him. He laughed hard and laugh enough that the guard left his post, edging closer to the table, ready to intervene in Spooner tried something. King lifted his hand, reassuring the bald, big guard that everything was under control and his help wasn't needed yet.
"I'm already behind bars, Pride, and with my dear old lawyer dead, I'm back to being the man on top - and my people knows it." Spooner boasted. "I'm the Militia, and there's nothing you can do to stop any of this. Just watch your back, man, because we'll come for you and your people, when you'll least expect it." He smiled, smug and dark, never breaking eye-contact with King.
King smiled. "See you around, Troy." He left the room with Gregorio, who couldn't stop looking quizzically at him.
"Well, I guess it was worth a shot …" she mumbled. "Still, you said you had another idea, if things didn't work out with your bestie?" Her voice was filled with sarcasm. King could understand her frustration, but going hot and cold wasn't going to do them any good. If they wanted to have a chance at getting Georgie back, they needed to focus and stay calm.
Besides, he told her already: he had an idea.
They walked through the sterile corridors of the old penitentiary, home to some of the biggest legends in the New Orleans criminal underworld, stopping every time they came to a gate between two different sectors, showing their badges and repeating their credentials at nausea, talking with so many guards that after a while they all looked the same.
"Care to share what has gotten you oh-so- happy, King?" she demanded, lifting one eyebrow.
King didn't answer, though. He just smiled, putting on his trademark dark sunglasses, and tucked his hands in his pockets. He casually switched directions, as he had done so a million times before. With Gregorio hot on his heels, he strolled towards the courtyard, as if he owned the place, nodding to the few guards they happened to meet in that sector.
He suddenly stopped and looked around. His smirk grew when he saw, in a corner, a guard, busy tending to an inmate occupied with some hefty barbells on a complicated and expensive-looking piece of gym equipment. Shrugging his shoulders, he approached them.
"All right, I need your help," King said tersely. He wasn't talking with the guard as one would have expected, but with the inmate sitting on the exercise bench. The man resembled King in a way that was almost scary. Gregorio glanced between the two men, gulping in the heavy silence, and her face suddenly lightened up.
The man before them was Cassius Pride - King's father and one of the biggest names in the New Orleans crime world's past.
"I've heard that Linda's getting married," said Cassius. "I'm sorry, son. I know you've never fully let it go of her…" The old man let out a heavy sigh. King decided to tough it out. He didn't need his father to remember him that fighting for Linda had been pointless, nor that she was the kind of woman you can't get over. She was the mother of his only child, after all.
King followed his father's faraway gaze, noticing how his attention had suddenly switched, his focus now of Gregorio. She was smirking with a lifted eyebrow.
"Gregorio, this is my infamous father, Cassius." King waved his hand between them. "Dad, this is Special Agent Gregorio, a new addiction to my team."
Without taking his attention away from the Latin beauty, Cassius spoke to his son, smug. "You know son, word is that you're trying to put down the Mayor himself."
King rolled his eyes. "Yes dad, I'm keeping up with the family tradition of the Hamiltons and the Prides trying to tear each other apart. Only difference is that I'm not some excuse of a mob boss nor a murdering Nazi like Detective Hamilton used to be."
"Let me guess," Gregorio put in. "You still knows the ins and outs of this whole city, even in here."
The guard had left them some room, watching from afar, and no one else was in the courtyard. It was a clear indication of Cassius's high status indeed.
"Dad, you know everything that's going in New Orleans. And I gotta tell you, I'm pretty desperate." King levelled his gaze at Cassius. "Someone kidnapped one of my people and I want to get her back to her family. So, just for this once, help me out."
Cassius didn't say anything, he just stared at his son, smug. When he remained silent, King sighed through his nose.
"If you help me get her back, then I'll be at your next parole hearing. And I'll kindly remind the commissioner of the help I've been getting from you over the years."
Cassius shrugged, but he looked pleased. "So, what do you people know so far?" Though it was a question, it seemed like he already knew part of the answer.
"One of my people got kidnapped a couple of days ago." King explained. "We believe it may have something to do with a weapons dealer she put down back in 2005, or some of his affiliates. These guys used to deal with the Viper Reserves, who answer to Spooner, but he hasn't said a lot."
"The Vipers, huh?" said Cassius thoughtfully. "Well, back in the day, before that idiot of Spooner tried to unite all the factions, the Vipers used to work with an IRA splinter cell. Lead by a guy called MacAulay, if I'm not mistaken…"
"You knew him?" King asked, as he sat on his heels, at eye-level with his father.
"I know of him, son. I've been here for far too long for having met in person- But, you know…" He smiled smugly.
Cassius turned serious, looking at his son deeply. He scanned his surroundings like a wounded animal, easy prey. "You know son, speaking of which… I've heard word of a cargo shipment coming in town a couple of weeks ago."
"It was carrying people?" King asked, amazed, but his father pursed his lips in a straight line.
"Not people - a person."
Gregorio frowned. "You must be wrong. MacAulay is dead. We got word from the FBI."
Cassius lifted an eyebrow.. "Would you really want the world to know that you let a criminal mastermind escape jail? Word of the mouth is an Irish guy has landed in town, looking for what was rightfully his…"
Gregorio and King exchanged concerned glances. She put some distance between them, and alerted her team to the news circulating through the criminal underworld. King stayed, sharing worry – and maybe even fear.
"What do you think he wants, dad?"
"Son, if it's really him… He has spent over ten years behind bars thinking about who had put him there, and trust me on this, that's an awful long time. To plan your revenge… to obsess…. and to find a way to get back what has been stolen from you."
"You mean his gang?"
Cassius closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Family son," he said with gravity, staring at his son. "Sometimes… often… it's just about family."