A/N: All right, hopefully I solved my plot dilemma. Again I apologize that this is so slow in coming, but it is a WIP (although I'm very near the end now) and the plot is forcing me to take my time with it, ensuring that everything works out not only how it's supposed to, but plausibly as well. Actually, I had to change a few things, luckily only stuff concerning the end, so the rest of the story is fine how it is.
Ch. 6
By lifting the dessicated bed frame, Sheldon was able to shift and loosen the packed junk pile to create an avalanche loosening and spreading the garbage for easier access. He crouched and rubbed his finger between lip and chin, then reached out to start picking at the top layer of crap – an old clock, moldy crates, abused plastic doll, gutted radio, circuit board... pack rat paradise, and he couldn't help considering how it all ended up here. The logical conclusion was that an empty warehouse was easier to get to than the city dump – which was true. Garbage just wasn't worth the hassle.
Sheldon felt justified in his desire to chuck this trash at the previous owners, because the piles made for such excellent hiding places, especially when the object in question being sought had neither a name or visual representation for Sheldon to go by. Wild goose chases yielded more results than this.
Junk clattered in a resounding cacophony that had Sheldon's bones trying to leap from his skin. He kept his face to the garbage, but turned his eyes to the right at Ron kicking aside metal boxes and an old TV set. The man seemed to be abusing the fact that there were no cops present continuing to secure the scene, or maybe more like rubbing it in. Sheldon didn't hold it past Ron to be doing the latter. No need for police presence since no CSI was scheduled to be on the scene. Ron had been placidly aware of this, grinning all the while Sheldon tried to rattle him by spouting off how a cop would be present. But he'd been assuming during the drive over that Stella would be hanging around. In all truth, his assumption had been nothing more than a hope used to placate his nerves and quiet his pounding heart
What he thought Stella's presence would have accomplished, he didn't know now. He hadn't been exactly thinking too clearly on the drive over, and settled for taking what he could get, despite the possibility that Stella could have easily ended up another hostage.
It had been a sobering realization, and one that Sheldon would cling to so as not to make the same mistake twice. Picking through the garbage piece by piece was nothing more than busy work. Not the kind that wasted time, but the kind that bought time, allowing Sheldon a moment to clearly ponder the situation. The answer to dilemma was simple – find what Ron wanted to get him out of the way, then get Danny to a hospital. What Sheldon needed to think about was the possible places this 'item' could have been placed. Ron had said Jack had called the police just before Ron had killed him. Therefore, if Jack had done all this just to piss Ron off, then the item could be anywhere, including beyond this warehouse in an actual trash bin. However, if Jack had set the whole thing up in order to bring Ron down, this item could be playing a major part, in which case it would have to be hidden where it could be found.
A third possibility was that Jack had hoped to escape Ron, with the item, therefore hid it where neither Ron nor the cops could find it.
A rat squeaked and darted from Sheldon's pile. He jerked back with hands raised as the rodent sped past him to the pile adjacent. Sheldon huffed out a frustrated breath, and tossed a Barbie head by the hair at the same pile.
" It would help if I knew what I was looking for," Sheldon said, voice amplified and hollowed by the massive space.
" I don't like repeating myself, Mr. Hawkes, but since you like mimicking a broken record, I'll say it one more time; you'll know it when you see it. It's not exactly something you'd tossed away like yesterday's trash – unless it was ruined. But Jack wasn't stupid enough to have done that. He wanted it just as much as me."
Since Ron seemed to enjoy being cryptic, Sheldon opted for another strategy. Today was a bad day for games.
" This Jack guy, did he want it for himself or did he want it to use against you?" Sheldon turned his head to see Ron also crouched, picking away in an infuriatingly meticulous manner, as though he had all the time in the world to scrounge. Sheldon's jaw tightened, grinding his teeth, and his muscles twitched with each thunk, clang, and clatter of garbage casually tossed aside.
" It was collateral to get what he wanted. Have to hand it to the man, he really wasn't stupid. He knew I'd kill him, which is why he called the cops. Didn't even know they were coming until I heard the sirens. Kind of makes you reevaluate the human race." Ron twisted his head enough to peer over his shoulder at Sheldon. " They say people go too far in the name of gain and greed. But anger... greed as nothin' over anger. Jack was pissed – 'I get want I want or no one does' kind of pissed. You mix anger with desperation, then you're reaching a point where a man'll do anything, even get himself killed rather than lose."
Ron rose to turn himself bodily, shoving his hands into his jean's pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels. " I know what you're trying to do, Mr. Hawkes. You think by getting into Jack's head, you can sort out where he might have stashed what I'm looking for." Ron grinned. " Smart man. Clever smart and logic smart, and I like that. You know why I like that, Mr. Hawkes? Because most people – when it comes to smarts – like to go for being the clever kind. You know, the kind that – rather letting things play out for a quick, uneventful ending – go for playing the hero, trying to out-think the bad guy to both stop him and save the day. Which works out fine in fairytales and movies. But real life likes to be a bitch – and the guy who goes for the logical smarts knows that. Guys like you. You know that the only real way to keep your friends safe and that white boy from choking on his own mucus is to give the bad guy what he wants."
Ron removed his hand from his pocket to point in that 'teacher giving lecture' manner that did only to pluck Sheldon's nerves into further agitation. The manner was enhanced when Ron began a methodical pace.
" And because you're playing the right kind of smart that doesn't get people killed, I'm going to throw you a bone, let you in on a secret you'd best keep to yourself unless you want a bullet in that pretty girl's brain. What had Jack so pissed involved him finding out that I was sick of my own team – my main man E aside, the rest I was planning to scrap. The guys can never take a freakin' hint, follow simple freakin' orders, and seem unable to even attempt trusting me even though I've yet to ever steer them wrong, get them screwed, or generally fail them for that matter. Jack especially had this funny little quirk about him – always though he knew better – sort of like how a highschool grad thinks he knows more about engineering than the guy with the degree in it. Jack didn't know crap, the man was too busy keeping his head up his ass to know anything. But – to my surprise – he wasn't stupid. He found out that I was going to dump the team after our next job, didn't like it, and expressed his opinion the only way he knew how – by trying to screw me."
Urgency and frustration were turned down a couple of massive notches as Sheldon processed this information. " So Jack knew you were going to kill him?"
Ron threw his arms up in an indifferent shrug. " Seems so. Started to really sweat when I pulled out the gun, but didn't waste a breath trying to beg for his life. We never saw eye to eye the first day I hired him on, and the man was very much the type to cut off his nose to spite his face. He didn't like to lose, and had to have the last word. So tell me Mr. Hawkes," Ron halted and stuck his hands into his coat pockets this time, arms hanging in a loose triangle at his sides rather than stiff. " This help at all with our problem?"
Hawkes stood, placing his hands on his hips and looking to the floor. " Partly."
" Partly?"
Sheldon hesitated on the answer as he processed some more. " Seeing as how I only have your personal assessment of Jack to work with, I would say that if he was truly out to bring you down any way he could, he would have placed this 'item' of yours where the cops could have found it. And tossing it into a pile of junk wouldn't have been as effective as – I don't know – putting it in something he knew the cops would be inclined to look at, but out of sight enough for you not to find with the little time you had to escape the police."
" Uh – huh. Is this where the partly comes in?"
Sheldon's mouth twisted at the bitter taste pooling onto his tongue, and looked up. " Partly as in I think I know where your item is, but the problem isn't solved. If anything, it's worse."
" How so?"
" What you're looking for – the only place it could be if Jack wanted it found by authorities – is at the crime lab."
NY
The rise and fall of Danny's chest could have created a nice hypnotic effect if the sudden hitches and jerks of coughing hadn't kept interrupting the rhythm. As far as scrounging for a means of comfort, it was all that Lindsey had to hold onto through the coughing, wheezing, pale face, and lack of any other motion on Danny's part. Hell, even the wheezing had its merit since – morbid as it was to think – both it and the motion of Danny's chest attested to him being alive. It was probable she was overreacting, then again it was probable that she was under-reacting and in all truth should have been panicking. She really couldn't say, because she had never been around anyone this viciously sick before while under these surreal circumstances. So she found assurances where she could to keep her nerves calm and her mind clear.
Lindsey took her eyes from Danny for a quick glance at the window that hovered like a blinding gray square in the blue-gray dusk of the room. The only light bothered to be flicked on was the one in the kitchen. The hallway was the darkest, like a miniature tunnel, with the kid his own shadow without features, only shape. The murmuring beyond that tunnel had gone from constant to periodic, and never at a volume that allowed Lindsey to catch a word here and there.
Another cough brought Lindsey's attention back to Danny. Saliva and mucus sprayed from his mouth like a pathetic geyser, and Lindsey could hear it slapping the back of his throat. Some of it caught, and he choked, lifting his head with eyes snapping open wide and frightened, until air finally broke through the obstruction. His head tilted forward, and spittle stretched from his mouth to his knee.
Lindsey turned her mouth down in a frown of disgust, and pulled several tissues from the box to wipe the silver saliva string from Danny's mouth. Danny lifted a flaccid hand to take the tissue, hacked, and spit into the wad.
Lindsey gingerly took the wad from Danny between thumb and finger, unable to hold back the grimace any longer. " This is so the opposite of what I wanted to be doing today."
Danny lifted his head, only to have it dropping back onto the bed. " Sorry," he wheezed.
She scrunched the wad into another tissue, and made a two point shot at the waste basket beside the night stand. " Why? It's not your fault a bunch of faceless men walked in and took us hostage."
" It's my fault I'm grossing you out."
" Actually, that would be your lungs' fault. No, correction, the virus or whatever attacking your lungs."
Danny's body spasmed in another cough. Lindsey sighed, taking the dry wash cloth to wipe Danny's face.
" You wouldn't happen to have any of that Vix stuff, would you?"
Danny smiled through the coughing, and lifted his hand to point at the nightstand.
" Straight," he sucked in a rasping breath that made Lindsey's chest tighten just to hear, " from my kit. Always good to have when the bodies stink, right?"
" Even better when you're congested." She turned her head to the hall and cleared her throat. " Excuse me."
The kid's head snapped around and he straightened from his less than casual lean against the wall. " What?"
Lindsey raised both her hands. " Just thought I'd warn you. I need to get something from the night stand, the Vix. Thought you'd want to know so..."
The kid shrugged in a facade of nonchalance. " Yeah, sure, whatever."
Lindsey moved slowly around Danny enough to reach out and grab the small blue bottle hidden behind the digital clock. She returned to her spot next to Danny as she unscrewed the cap. The biting aroma hit her nose like a slap that – in all truth – she found rather disconcerting thanks to the association the smell had developed over the years. Smells were hair triggers to vivid memories, and thoughts of pale dead faces with a seemingly dead pale face in front of her made her stomach turn. The only difference was the motion of Danny's chest, and the noisy breathing.
She gathered the sticky goo onto two fingers, then used her other hand to pull aside the unbuttoned collar of Danny's shirt. The moment her slime covered fingers touched the colorless skin of Danny's chest, her face screwed with displeasure.
Contrary to the popular beliefs of her brothers and sisters, Lindsey was not a hardcore romantic. She'd indulged her feminine and emotional side with a few tasteful romance books, but more to pass the time than because she fancied the fantasy. Her younger sister, on the other hand – barely out of her teens – inhaled romances like they were candy. Were the girl here, right now, observing her older sister applying Vix to some guy's chest, would she have been swooning? Probably. Lindsey could almost hear her crooning words of oh, how sweet or something like that.
Had she been the one doing the administering, the reality would have been a good knock upside her head. Applying strong smelling goop to an over heated, clammy chest was the antithesis of intimate, and it was making Lindsey's stomach tie itself in knots. She could feel Danny's chest rattle with each breath he pulled, and finally – fully – understood Hawkes' diagnosis of Danny being malnourished, because she could also feel the bones through the colorless skin. Moving to the throat was slightly more tolerable, except when Danny swallowed, then gagged when Lindsey accidentally pressed too hard.
" Sorry," she winced.
It was definitely no picnic for Danny either, the way his face scrunched and lips curled in a grimace of discomfort. Vix was an oddity in that it burned and cooled at the same time when first applied, then increased the feeling of being caked in filth. Lindsey recalled her own days of the flu when – no matter how many showers she took – she always returned to feeling filthy ten seconds after dressing, and especially when reapplying the Vix.
But in the end, it would be a small price to pay when Danny's congestion cleared up enough to allow for a better inhale of oxygen.
When finished, Lindsey wiped her fingers on a tissue, and Danny's features relaxed.
" Better?" she asked.
" Getting there," he replied, and shuddered. " I hate this stuff."
" Tell me about it." No amount of wiping could fully rid herself of the feel of the stuff. She poured more water and lifted Danny's head for a sip, which burst from his mouth in a spray when coughs erupted. He dropped his head back, panting, coughing, panting and coughing, water rolling down his face and neck. Lindsey dabbed the water to keep from wiping away the Vix, then took the moist rag from the back of Danny's neck to remoisten it with the water from the pitcher.
Danny emitted a low moan – or what Lindsey first took to be a low moan – changing over into an incoherent mumbling. Lindsey didn't bother ringing the excess water out and just slid it back behind Danny's neck. Her heart tripped over itself at the continuation of Danny's low murmurs – until she actually strained her ears to hear what it was Danny was saying.
Not so much saying as – kind of, sort of – singing.
" I like to dream... right between the sound machine..."
Lindsey snorted and slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the near hysterical laughter trying to bubble up. Sickness and hostage situations frowned on singing, but fever induced delusions always did say 'screw it' to everything. Lindsey placed her hand on Danny's forehead, then cheeks – same as before with it burning hot.
" You don't know what we could find... Come along with me, little girl, on a magic carpet ride..." Danny chuckled, coughed, and kept right on chuckling, which had Lindsey undecided on whether to panic, berate, or join in the half-hearted crooning.
She settled for continuing to worry, holding herself back enough from panic to think straight. " Danny, if this were any other situation, I'd have to arrest you for possible drug possession."
" The only drug in me is that pill that – lucky me – has yet to make a reappearance. You don't like magic carpet rides, Montana? This one's cool. It's all natural, know what I mean? No hash brownies or hemp included." He coughed, hard. " The only setback is the lack of oxygen and the chest pains."
Lindsey nodded thoughtfully. " The lack of oxygen explains a lot. What you need to do is stop wasting your energy singing and take a nap."
Danny shook his head. " Not exactly the right time for a nap. Contrary to what you may think of me, I'm not lazy."
Lindsey started at this as though she'd been flicked in the nose. " I don't think you're lazy. A little weird, little obnoxious, a lot of mouthy – but never lazy. If anything, on a normal day, you have too much energy that half the time I'd kill for. Lazy people don't move as much as you do. I mean even when you're sitting you're still moving, even if it's just your fingers tapping on a counter top. Messer, you're too much the opposite of lazy to be called lazy."
Danny grinned, and even on his sickly face it conveyed his usual mischief. Very Cheshire cat of him, making Lindsey feel positively Alice tossed in a Wonderland of skyscrapers and heavy traffic. Unlike Alice, Lindsey felt she was integrating well with this concrete world, but like Alice there were always those little New York quirks that left her reeling – the lingo for the most part; sayings that actually required translation. And it was always Messer doing the translating, pointing her in the right direction, her own Cheshire Cat in human flesh.
The analogy, and Danny's smile fading into a grimace of pain at another cough, resulted in a pang of sadness constricting Lindsey's heart. Granted he could rile her at the drop of a hat, but getting her to dredge up witty retorts had forced Lindsey to open up in a manner that had her used to the goings on of the lab within days. If acquaintanceship wasn't born from working with the people, then it had come from her inquiries as to whether Danny liked making the newbie's life miserable or was generally like this with everyone.
Truthfully, she enjoyed the game. Danny knew how to take just as much as he knew how to dish out, and Lindsey had yet to find the verbal burr that would rile him in return. If he didn't retort, then he laughed with genuine humor. It both annoyed her and made her want to laugh in return, and stifled the awkward hesitancy that normally came with being the new girl.
Mac had made her feel welcome, Danny had made her feel part of the team. Morbidly enough, it was taking her watching him suffer to realize this, hoping and praying that her Cheshire cat didn't fade out on her.
" You're more incorrigible than lazy," she said, rubbing the dry cloth over his sweat-slicked hair. Her words didn't instigate another smile. The cough had worn Danny out, caused him pain, and his eyes were squeezed shut.
NY
Sheldon clenched his fists without intending to, and had to remain conscious of them to keep from decking Ron on the spot. " It's not that simple..."
Ron smirked with far too much confidence. " Sure it is, Hawkes. Go in, ask for the box, search it, get the item, and get it back to me. How's that not simple?"
" Number one – I still have no idea what I'm looking for. If it's already bagged and tagged, then me removing it from the lab is evidence tampering, and if I get caught, we're both screwed."
" Actually, for me it'd be a set back. You and your buddies are the ones who'll be screwed. Don't go losing the logic on me now, Hawkes. What's more important, jail time or your friends' lives? They're counting on you Hawkes, especially that white boy..."
" His name's Danny."
" Fine, Danny. Especially Danny." Ron whipped out the cell phone from his coat pocket, and Sheldon went rigid, stiff enough to snap at the smallest muscle twitch, and heart jack hammering against his sternum. Ron looked at the phone, and appeared to be sifting through messages rather than dialing.
" I really hope this isn't about moral issues, Hawkes. Nice to have integrity and all, but we're a little pressed for time thanks to your pal Danny. Think it's high time we checked in on the poor guy."
The beeping sound of dialing was unmistakable in the silent warehouse, and Sheldon's heart shot up into his mouth.
" Wait! Don't. We'll go... We'll go!"
Ron kept dialing.
NY
The Vix wasn't doing squat except weighing on his chest like arctic slime. He felt coated in a shell of slime and dried sweat, and would have stripped even in front of Lindsey to bolt to the shower had he the energy to do so. Lindsey was right about him – immobility wasn't in him. Both that immobility and feeling filthy was like those itches inside the skin that one could never find to scratch. He needed motion, if not to shower than at least to do something about his persistent home invaders. Right now, he far preferred the ants that had kept mysteriously popping up all over his kitchen counter a few weeks back than the human vermin ransacking his place. At least the ants had eventually vanished, going out just as mysteriously as they had come in. These men were trespassing, Danny had every right to shoot them, if only he could remember where he'd placed his gun...
Numb washed over him in waves for the third time, and this time he didn't attempt to shake it off. He didn't have the energy to do that much, not anymore. His mind drifted to Louie – again – and he wondered haphazardly if there was some level of unconsciousness that could be reached where two comatose individuals could actually communicate. It was odd, ridiculous, and so Crossingover that Danny had to mentally laugh and cuss at himself. But he dwelled on it all the same, because at that moment he wanted nothing more than to talk to his brother. Perhaps get some advice on how to get rid of intruders that didn't know how to leave, ask about what helps against congestion – Louie's smoking had brought him to a point where even a slight change in weather had his chest gunking up, making Danny bless the day he'd kicked the habit for himself – and just talk. Why was it no one ever wanted to just talk until way, way, way after the fact? Danny and Louie had never just talked. Fought and joked, but never talked.
Movement jostling his elbow had him pulling his eyelids apart to slits, and rolling his head to look at Lindsey. She returned his gaze with her own worried, sheepish one.
" Sorry," she said. " Butt's kind of going numb."
Danny wanted to laugh, but his attempt turned into a cough, which pissed off his ribs. He lifted one unsteady hand to rub his chest, and twisted his face in disgust at contacting the slippery Vix. He wiped his hand off on his thigh.
" Feel free to grab a chair," he wheezed. " Foldable one in the closet." Talking had become an effort, requiring more air than his lungs could take in, and rubbing his aching throat raw. He cleared his throat, which had Lindsey bring up the water. A few sips of tepid liquid, plus a purposefully initiated cough, and the pain of talking became nothing more than an annoyance. " You could sit on a pillow."
Lindsey's lips curved toward a smirk, but since it didn't reach her eyes, became more of a nervous smile. " You mean the one covered in cooties? I'll suffer a numb backside, thank you very much."
Danny smiled and groaned. " Ah, cooties. You really are fresh out of kindergarten, Montana. Try somethin' new."
" How about plague?"
" Too harsh."
" Too bad. But here, let me... and don't cough on me!"
She reached behind Danny's head, stretching her arm until her fingertips were able to snag the corner of the pillow. She pulled it over, and lifted Danny's head enough to place it behind him, relieving his neck of the potential crick to form from having it bent back for so long. Danny sighed in utter contentment.
" Now that's freakin' bliss. Bed would be better."
Lindsey nudged his shoulder with her own. " Messer, I don't care how skinny you've gotten, I'm not going to throw my back out lifting you into that bed. Not when we're going to have to haul you out of it again when we head to the hospital."
Hospital. Danny gulped. " Am I really that bad off?"
" Hawkes thinks so, and I don't think he's the kind of guy we should be second guessing. He said your congestion was sounding bad, and that you're malnourished."
Danny closed his eyes in quiet frustration and even quieter fear. " Figures. Freakin' starving and can't keep anything down. Right now, it feels like my stomach's eating itself. I'm so freakin' hungry it hurts, makin' me feel all queasy and crap, but the thought of food's doin' that too. That make any sense to you?"
" You're sick..."
Danny opened his eyes to see Lindsey's sympathetic face. She had her elbow on the bed and the side of her head resting against her hand.
" That's what being sick does to you."
Danny released a long shuddering breath, emptying his lungs just above the point that would initiate the itch and resume the coughing. " I feel like I'm being torn apart."
Lindsey moved her hand from her own head to pick up the washcloth and dry Danny's face. She paused, then leaned in close, lowering her voice when she spoke.
" And you're breath could level half of New York." She grinned wanly, her poor attempt at lightening the mood. Danny couldn't help giving in, even clenched his jaw to dam in the laughter, but his body shook with it.
" Rival Godzilla, right?" he breathlessly said.
" Danny, it could kill Godzilla."
The sharp creak of a floor board pulled Lindsey's gaze to the hall, and Danny rolled his head to follow. But he wasn't given time to see anything when fingers wrapped like a vice around his upper arm and practically ripped him away from the bed to start dragging him across the floor. The blanket fell away, and the cold attacked Danny like a punch to the gut that had him gasping. He heard Lindsey screaming, begging, heard the creep dragging him telling her to shut up. He struggled to his feet but couldn't even get them under him, attempted to pull the hand away on his arms, yet couldn't direct his own arm to where it needed to go. He was pulled into his own living room, behind the couch, and dropped like a gym bag onto the beige carpeted floor that did nothing to lessen the pain of impacting his ribs. The tall guy and the quiet guy loomed over him and stared down – quiet guy imapssive, tall guy grinning in a manner that had ice trickling along Danny's spine. Fear had Danny's heart slamming, but his skill at masking emotions allowed him a genuine glare with genuine anger backing it up.
He opened his mouth to speak, only to have tall guy shove his booted foot into Danny's shoulder, shoving the sick man to his back. Tall guy then planted that same heavy foot on Danny's chest as quiet guy pulled out a camera phone and snapped a few pictures.
No pressure was applied to the foot, but the tread of the boot was sharp against the exposed skin of Danny's upper chest, with the heel digging into his breast bone on each inhale. He had managed to get both hands wrapped around tall guy's ankle, which was as far as he could go, with nothing left that would allow him a proper struggle. He shifted what he hoped was a burning gaze between the two men, pulling up every gram of anger he had to keep the fear at bay enough not to show through.
Tall guy huffed and shook his head. " This ain't gonna work. Not convincing enough."
Weight increased on the foot, pressure increased on Danny's chest, and the expansion of his ribcage decreased. His breaths turned faster and shallower until he was barely pulling air in at all – no thanks to the congestion. Danny coughed trying to clear more space, which made his chest spasm and the boot dig in mercilessly. Fear had its fuel, and grew into panic that beat anger aside to take over at the forefront. It pulled small flecks of energy with it, and forced Danny to struggle even if it was feeble and useless. He pulled at the boot, pushed at it, writhed and even tried to twist away which turned out to be a big mistake when the ache in his ribs became a fire incinerating his bones.
" Son of bitch!" Danny cried out, cursing non stop, until his lungs were completely empty of air and couldn't be refilled, and all he could manage sound-wise was an agonized growl. His vision started to haze, graying, then fading toward dark. He heard, dream-like, Lindsey's voice echoing toward him.
" What are you doing! Leave him alone! Please, stop! Stop it! Please!" Her voice. She was crying, all out sobbing hysterically between screaming and pleading, which only encouraged tall guy to press harder.
" Knock it off!" Quiet guy shoved tall guy's shoulder. " Get off him, get him back to the room, and stop being an asshole. The Boss said we need him alive, then we need him alive, so stop screwing around."
Tall guy's mouth remained curved in a sardonic smirk, and yanked his foot from Danny's weak grasp.
The massive gasp of air ripping into Danny's throat had him arching his back off the floor. He stopped and choked when he hit what felt like a massive cramp in his chest, and exhaled sharply, panting and coughing with hitched breaths. Tall guy gave him a good kick to the flank before reaching down and snagging his arm to drag him back – coughing and wheezing desperately - to the room.
" Danny!"
Danny was dropped, again, on his kicked side. He hugged his chest and curled into himself against a pain that kept on snatching the breath from him.
" Danny?"
The weight of a hand on his arm made him flinch and pull away involuntarily.
" Danny! Danny, it's all right. Come on, can you sit up? I need you to sit up, it'll help you breathe easier."
Lindsey, and her voice didn't sound right – too strained and broken. He felt the hand again, this time on both shoulders, pulling gently. Danny struggled, pushing himself up with one elbow, then one hand, but Lindsey still did all the work. Even up, he remained curled with his forehead pressed to his raised knees, and the cold soaked into him, making him shiver.
" Danny? Danny, look at me..."
Danny turned his head until his temple was resting on his knee to look into her tear stained face and reddened eyes. She quickly wiped leftover tears from her face and sniffed. She opened her mouth several times before finally speaking in a broken voice.
" I-I heard you scream..."
Danny coughed, then winced when the pain flared like mini knives shredding the muscles of his chest.
" Danny?"
Danny lifted his head and sat up the best he could manage to look down at himself.
Lindsey's hand shot shaking to her mouth. " Oh my gosh..."
Danny's chest was red with patterned bruising already fading into existence and joining the small, bleeding cuts the product of tall guy's boot. Every breath hurt, and only by taking short, quick pants was he able to get any air at all.
" That son of a..." he croaked, then succumbed to fitful coughing that hurt worse than breathing.
NY
The scream kept resounding in Hawkes' ears. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, moved his hand to his head to run it over his scalp, kept it at the crown, then dropped it. He turned in an act of searching, except that he wasn't searching for anything, just moving to placate the agitation in his body crying out for him to do something. He wanted to run and tackle Ron, lay the guy flat, take off in the truck and get Mac, Stella and Flack in on this. He wanted to grab the nearest and biggest piece of junk he could find and hurl it at the man holding the picture phone turned to Hawkes, with the picture of Danny on the floor frozen in time as a foot pressed down on his chest. Coupled with the scream, it was going to haunt Sheldon's nightmares for a long, long time.
Finally, Ron flipped the phone closed. " I think you got the message." He shoved it back into his pocket, and jerked his head sideways toward the door. " Shall we go? Don't wanna keep Danny boy waiting."
NY
A/N: Tell me honestly. Does Ron make your blood boil, or do you find him rather generic? I always feel my bad guys are never 'evil' enough, mostly because I read other stories with such wonderful villains you not only hate, but want to do harm to. Every time I try to come up with a bad guy like that, I kill them too early.