Disclaimers: All characters from CSI: Miami are property of CBS. I own nothing connected with CBS or with CSI: Miami, I don't know anyone connected with CBS or with the show. I gain nothing from posting these stories save self satisfaction.
Title: Mutual Valor
Pairing: Horatio Caine/OC
Rating: NC 17 I know, 'M' is an accepted rating, but this is just in case you don't know, this is what 'M' means. This is not only for sexual content, but also for violence and references to sexual child abuse well.
Spoilers: There are references to previous episodes through fourth season.
Challenge: For you true experts on all CSI: Miami, the J's I use for story breaks, and the Sorority House, are references to one episode in particular. It will be up to you to figure out which episode and why I used the lines of J's.
Comments: Both negative and positive comments are always appreciated. I learn from the negative and enjoy the positive.
Thank you: Many thanks to my betas, Elena and Tonie. If not for you, this would have been a mess! I am truly grateful for your efforts.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
Summary: Story: Sometimes the rescuer becomes the rescued.
Chapter 10: Manuela reveals her past.
Chapter 10:
When Horatio called next door, he wasn't surprised that he didn't get an answer; he had always suspected Manuela worked beyond normal hours, as he did. Leaving a message on her machine inviting her to come over when she was ready, he busied himself with the seldom attended to odds and ends of keeping house, giving him time to wonder just what the rest of Manuela's story might be.
As usual, he cautioned himself about falling for her story hook, line, and sinker. Officer of the Court she might be, agent of CPS, yes, but that did not exclude her from being subject to fantasies of drama and trauma. She'd said the girls would 'need someone like her' to be with them as they were rescued, and that sounded very much like dramatization to him.
From time to time, he'd dealt with the phenomenon of people who, for whatever reason, felt they had to live their lives as dramatically as the soap operas on television. Some played up their dramas, some just made them up. He had to consider those possibilities every day, with every person he dealt with on the job. The question to be considered now was whether Manuela was somehow reacting to his meltdown the other day, coupled with what she'd been hearing from Viola? Sometimes, people who saw other people going through traumatic experiences felt the need to become the center of their own drama, in hopes of receiving the solicitations, the attention they saw accorded to others.
He stopped, reminding himself that he might very well be jumping to conclusions, making up tales as well. He had no reason to think Manuela was a drama queen. 'And,' a little voice whispered, 'no reason not to.' Well, he would listen to the story and would know what to do when it was finished. He already knew something was different about her, that there was more to her story than she'd told, but jumping to conclusions now was premature.
By the time she pulled open the gate two hours later, Horatio was sitting on the patio, watching the dark purpling haze creep up from the east as it chased away the light of the setting sun.
After they exchanged pleasantries, even though he gestured to the lounge beside his, she remained standing, her arms clasped under her breasts, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. Running out of small talk, after a moment's hush, Manuela asked, "Horatio, could we do this inside? I'd rather be sitting up, facing you."
"Sure." He was up and holding back the sheers from the open patio door practically before she'd finished her sentence.
A few minutes later, supplied with an iced glass of his favorite herbal tea blend of orange and hibiscus, she'd seated herself on the single casual chair near the couch. She was perched on the edge of the cushion, back straight, knees together, her hands flat on her thighs. Setting his own glass of tea on the table in front of the couch, taking a place near her, he leaned back. Above them, two ceiling fans whirred quietly.
Manuela took a deep breath. "Horatio, first I want to thank you again for caring. Last night was...was good. I appreciate what you did." She smiled nervously and swallowed. "I know I've been a little mysterious about myself, but it's just that, well, it's not that I don't think it's any of your business, it's just... it's not something I talk about, much. Even though, for the most part, through therapy, I've dealt with my life fairly well, it... sometimes, it just comes back and zaps me and yesterday, with Viola, was a pretty heavy hit." Her weak smile reflected her feelings of helplessness against these ghosts.
Horatio studied the glistening beads of moisture on the glass of tea in front of him, remembering how it could be at times, being battered with things that came up from the past. His eyebrows knitting his forehead together, he nodded slightly.
"I started to tell you about some of the stuff, but maybe the rest of it will tell you why I really should be present when you first find those kids." Her brow folded as she looked for the strength to continue. "I said before that I thought I had fallen in love with one of Mom's pimps, that's what he was, not a boyfriend..." She hesitated, shifting in the chair, uncomfortable with the subject. "Anyway, the next thing I knew he was telling me about needing to go home for a little bit, to Brazil, and wanting to take me with him." She smiled and shook her head. "Mom thought it would be an adventure for her little girl, even signed papers for travel permits, and off we went. So, he took me to Brazil, Brasilia to be exact." She leaned forward a bit, one hand rapidly tapping lightly at her thigh as she spoke.
"I guess he sold me, or something, I'm not sure. Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was living at a house that specialized in—" As she spoke her eyes found the memory and locked in, seeing nothing of the present moment. "—in providing little girls to wealthy men, for pleasure. It was exactly the same as Viola has so far described. She and I could be the same girl.
"I stayed with maybe six other girls, all of us held captive. First, I was, trained, the same way Viola described, for four days. That is to say, five men alternated raping me nearly round the clock. One man showed me where to put my hands on him, how to behave when I was with him, and when I didn't understand he'd hit me on the back of my head with his hand, hard enough to make my teeth rattle. The others didn't bother with showing me anything, they just..." Briefly observing her quiet audience, her gaze touched his, before she looked away again.
"After the basic training, I was taken to the room where the other girls stayed, and that's where I lived for the next five years. I left only when I was out on calls. The one man, who showed me what I was expected to do, continued the training whenever I wasn't...otherwise occupied. Anyway, I had to maintain a regular clientele, please the men I was sent to so they'd want me back, to earn my food. I was fed by the number of hours I spent with clients. It got so my specialty was comforting stressed out men. They even called me "the little comfort pillow."
Suddenly, seeing the context of what Manuela had done for him a few brief nights ago, Horatio's breath caught in his throat as he realized how enormous the cost to her must have been. Gone was the dispassionate witness, the suspended belief; no one could make this up.
She looked so small, almost frail, and he could see she was trembling like an aspen leaf. Horatio thought he detected a sort of grunt or a huff and saw a flash of a derisive smile cross her face. "I even got pretty good at it after a while—I hardly saw my trainer at times because I was so busy—I got enough to eat, even to share. That was after I got tied up with my mouth taped and put into a closet for a day or two at a time for not cooperating. Of course, there were times they did that to me anyway. I got the idea it was a-just-because-we-can-do-it, sort of thing. Always when I least expected it, too." The look in her eyes showed desperation mixed with fear.
Listening to her speak now, there were no doubts she had lived this horror. This was no dramatization, no play for his sympathy, it was her being witness to the unspeakable. He could tell it was as hard for her to talk about, as it was hard for him to listen.
"I lasted longer than a lot of girls because I looked very young, and they do like them young in those circles." She shook her head ruefully. "I was also pretty healthy. We all got infections at one time and another from the physical damage done internally and—and a lot of the kids I was with died horribly from those infections. I was lucky only in that I lived through the infections I got." She didn't look like she felt lucky.
"By the time I was seventeen, I'd probably been with hundreds of men. By then, though, I was a washed-up old hag. I had fewer and fewer clients and even though I tried to make myself useful by taking care of the younger girls, they finally just threw me out on the streets. No warning, just took me by the arm one day and shoved me out the door, naked! 'Course, I'd lived naked for most of the time there anyway." She looked up from her memories, as if only now realizing she was trying to tell a story, giving an apologetic smile. "Anyway, I didn't know my way around or what to do. I had never been outside on my own, didn't really know the language. Portuguese is the national language and all I had ever learned in Portuguese, were sexual body parts and phrases that pertained to, well, you can guess. I managed to steal a dress, but in a couple of days, I was arrested for begging and then deported. I was an undesirable alien."
Trying to grasp the atrocious degradation that she had been through, wanting to know how she had come to be the person he saw sitting here now, he encouraged, "And then?"
She looked up above his head with a tight smile, "How'd I get from whore to lawyer?"
Before he could object, she shook her head slightly. "'s'okay. Long story short, when I got here, I was sent to a shelter; they helped find my mother, who happened to be at another shelter. The people who ran my shelter actually believed my story and I got loads of counseling. Eventually I got my GED, went to work, went to college, where I took pre-law, and psych. I even got a scholarship." An embarrassed smile passed over her face. "Seems I'm of above average intelligence." Her voice became a little louder as she started playing with her fingernails. "Still, even on an accelerated schedule, college took five years because Mom was in and out of different rehabs. That's why she was at a shelter, the drugs, you know. They kept trying to find something that would work for her. Then I went to work for a law firm as a clerk for a while, after I got my degree. Mom died somewhere during that mess. Poor dear." Her eyes teared up for a moment, though the trembling had settled to a slight tremor. "Went to law school, passed the bar, worked for my old firm for five years, and the rest as they say..."
Both sat in silence for a time. Horatio was stunned not only by her history but also by how she had been able to deal with it. The significance of it all in relation to their personal association thus far was mind blowing.
"Horatio, do you see why I have to be there when you find that house, when you find those girls? Not only will they need immediate legal representation but, well, no offense, you and any officers with you will scare those girls spitless. You'll need help and I'll know how to be of help, I'll know what will need to be done to bring them through the rescue in something like one piece."
Horatio had to shift gears from his personal reaction to the original purpose of being made privy to the information. She was right, of course. Officially, the job of the police was to apprehend the criminals, with the only consideration to the victim being that of physical safety. For the sake of the girls, Manuela's presence, with her understanding, would be essential. But at what point could she come in? The problem was that Manuela was not a police officer, had no training, and would be an encumbrance to a rescue operation.
After a few minutes of thought, seeing that she was tired, he leaned forward onto his elbows, using his hands to emphasize his words, as he said, "I agree, you need to be there, Manuela, but your safety is of first importance. At the moment, I have no idea how the operation is going to go down or how you could fit in or when, but, I promise, you will be there with us." He had a thought. "You know what, though? I think I'll need your help beforehand. When I get enough information on the location, I'm going to need to have some idea of how it operates, how many people we'll encounter, where the girls might be located within the house, and so on. I'm going to need you as we start putting things into action."
His hand went to his lower lip while his eyes roamed back and forth across the coffee table as he considered his next words, until he finally nodded to himself. "After we go in, we will have to have paramedics ready to administer immediate aid to the children, then transport them to hospitals, and you can at least be with them, all right? For now, though, can you be available at any time to tell what you know about that sort of place? What the team might encounter?"
Sounding relieved, Manuela said, "Of course. Just call me. Viola will be pleased to see her friends again."
"The girls will probably be taken to separate hospitals, Manuela. Dividing them up, from the start, will keep their testimony straight. If we have them together they might start to contaminate each other's stories and that could kill us in court."
"Oh Horatio. You have no idea how reliant on each other these kids are. Separating them would probably cause trauma so serious that court appearance would be impossible. That's partly why Viola is so afraid of you, even as gentle and kind as you have been with her." Manuela reached out to touch his wrist. "In her world she has been safe from harm only when she was with the other girls. That isn't what was meant to happen, but that's how it works. Her recovery and theirs will be dependent on first reuniting them. We'll worry about separating them later, but for now, please—please plan on keeping them together."
Taking in the information, he nodded his agreement, his hands hanging limply from his wrists, he turned his head without raising it to look at Manuela, a sympathetic smile on his lips. "I understand. All right, I think we can arrange that." He paused, continuing his smiling gaze before adding, "Thank you."
Manuela sensed he was thanking her not only for agreeing freely to share her information but also for taking him into her confidence, for sharing her past, for her willingness to tread the path of painful memories. He was also acknowledging that he, now, understood what it had cost her to help him in the way she did, as he'd probably guessed, the only way she knew how. This gave her pause to wonder why she had done it and she quickly concluded that it was because he, himself, was very much worth it.