The Last Unbroken Heart

Dave knocked on the door of the BAU jet's lavatory. "Hurry your ass up!" he barked impatiently. He looked at his watch. Ten minutes. Long enough to do whatever needed to be done.

The door opened to reveal a middle-aged, over-weight, balding man wearing horned-rimmed glasses. He appeared to have trouble pulling up the zipper on his pants. "A little help here?" Gary Rogers pleaded and stuck his handcuffed wrists out pathetically as he unsuccessfully attemped to reach the zipper.

Dave glanced down. "Put that thing back where it belongs," he ordered without sympathy to the man's situation.

"Please?"

Muttering an expletive under his breath, Dave reached out and yanked the zipper up. "Satisfied?" He felt the need to disinfect his hand in hot bleach water. How in the hell had he gotten roped into be a glorified babysitter?

"Was it good for you, Agent Rossi?" Gary purred, his words dripped with saccharin laced sarcasm. With a bit more force than what was warranted, Dave grabbed Gary by the shoulders and pushed him down the aisle to the row of chairs closest to the galley. Roughly, he shoved the man down into a seat.

"Sit down and keep your yap shut!"

Dave took the seat at the bulkhead across from the prisoner and picked up a magazine. Despite the banal articles, he maintained the appearance of being interested. Two and a half hours more of hell, then he could turn the asshole over to authorities and go home to his own bed.

"You don't strike me as a fan of gardening," Gary remarked innocently, eyeing the cover of the magazine.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" Dave repeated the order. He turned a page and tried to ignore the man across from him. If there were only a way to make the plane go faster.

"I get talkative when I'm in confined spaces."

Dave flicked his gaze upward for a second, then back down. "Is that how you lured your victims in?" he asked dryly. Dave shook his head to clear out the disturbing images.

Gary lifted both of his cuffed hands. "I didn't have to lure them; chicks dig this," he boasted with a bravado that made Dave want to vomit. To anyone who didn't know Gary Rogers' history, the silent-shy type was the persona he used to lower the defenses of the innocent. He had the ability to pass as the down-trodden, down on his luck loser who never had a date or was asked to the prom to invoke pity and sympathy from unsuspecting victims, and once he got them where he wanted them... But Dave knew the well-polished act that hid the violent and deranged monster lurking right below the surface.

"Sure they do." Dave turned another page. Richard owes me more than a week to myself.

"Dave—can I call you Dave?" Gary asked, trying to turn on the charm and appear amiable.

"No."

"Dave, I was wondering if this is going into your next book?"

Dave stayed silent. Think of the cabin in the woods and all of the fishing you'll be able to get in. Think of throwing the stick to Mudgie. Think of sitting on the porch step as you smoke an Al Capone in the solitude of the woods. Think of these things and not him, Dave. If you go to prison, you will lose your cabin. He isn't worth it, Dave mentally cautioned himself.

"It would make for an exciting thriller. Written in the way only the famous David Rossi can. I'll bet that you won't take any liberties to embellish my transgressions."

More silence.

"Maybe have a movie, too," Gary mused. "Too bad they have those 'Son of Sam' laws; I sure would love getting the revenue."

"So you can spend it on K-Y? Because you are going to need it—a lot of it," Dave remarked without a condescending smile.

Gary laughed out loud. He pointed both hands at Dave. "You're a funny guy! And that's why I like you!"

"And you're a child rapist; that is why the prisoners are going to love you," Dave returned with just a trace of a smile.

"I didn't do anything they didn't want to do," Gary whined, insulted at the remark.

"You did a lot of things they didn't want to do," Dave corrected. The offenses were too numerous and disgusting to list. Thank God he was never going to write that book. He would never want his child to read about the evil man sitting across from him.

Gary's eyes brightened with anticipation. "Go ahead, list them."

Dave kept his eyes focused on the words that were becoming blurred by anger. Right now, at this moment, he could be arriving home on a commercial flight, after having sipped expensive Chivas Regal in First Class, he groused to himself.

"Oh, I guess you would rather me list them. Give you fodder for your book." Gary was almost bouncing in his seat with delight at the thought of sharing all of his dastardly deeds with the famous profiler.

"Did your pals realize what a scumbag they were working for?" Dave wondered how the other criminals never saw the real man beneath the bad comb over. Maybe they were all too busy getting high on meth and money.

"They appreciated what I did for them. Besides, I never mixed business with pleasure."

"I guess none of them had kids," Dave muttered. Finished with the magazine, he placed it in the holder attached to the seat.

"I'll never tell...unless you promise to give me a cut of your profits—then I'll tell you everything. Because that's what you get off on, don't you, Agent Rossi?" Gary's tone turned from inquiring to nasty. "You love hearing all of the nasty, dirty details of what your criminals do, don't you?"

Dave picked up a copy of "Guitar Player". He thumbed thru the pages. He had to do something to take him mind off of throttling his charge. Although, no jury would convict him-of that, he was positive.

"Is this where I am supposed to stroke your ego and say yes?" Dave said with disinterest.

"Isn't that what you behavioral guys do? Dig all into the bad guy's stuff and extract the nasty things you need to make your case? I bet you lie awake at night replaying your cases, don't you."

Dave willed himself to remain still.

"I know you do. Drink yourself to sleep. I'll bet you are one of those guys who gets turned on hearing about all of the positions..."

"Don't think for one minute that I don't have a roll of duct tape lying around somewhere and that I won't use it," Dave threatened, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Feigning bravado, Gary scoffed. "You wouldn't dare! I have Freedom of Speech," he announced. But his eyes shifted left to right as if he were trying to find the hidden roll of duct tape Dave said he had.

"And I have the freedom to read my magazine in complete silence. But continue to push me and you'll find out if I'm telling the truth."

A moment of silence passed before Gary asked, "You got kids?"

Dave mentally calculated how much longer he had to be confined with this sick bastard. "None of your business."

"I see a ring. You're married," Gary observed, licking his lips. "Bet she's a pretty young thing. Although, she can't be too smart if she's married to you. Tell you what, when we land, if you let me tap her a couple of times, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Dave's eyes narrowed. "And if you don't shut up, I swear I'll make it look like an acci—" His words were abruptly cut off as the plane was violently jolted up and then down. The magazine in Dave's hands flew across the cabin as the plane banked port.

"What the hell?!" he asked rhetorically.

"What was that?!" Gary cried out in fear. His disgusting act was qiuckly forgotten as pure fear and terror filled him.

"Shut up! And stay here!" Dave ordered as he bolted from his seat to the cockpit. Tapping out his request for entry in Morse Code, he waited for the door to open. The lock disengaged and Dave stepped into the tiny area.

"Mark, what's wrong?" Dave asked, trying to keep his fear down. He glanced out the window at the pitch black sky and the rain pelting hard against the thick cockpit windows. The plane rocked and rolled.

"Unexpected storm. I've radioed a distress call, but no one has responded." Mark tried with all of his strength to keep the plane on course. He swore he pulled a muscle or two in his right bicep, but he would worry about it later.

Dave looked at the gauges and radar on the control panel, trying to decipher the readings to help give their location. "Where are we?"

"Just crossed into Colorado. I'm thinking we might have to make an emergency landing." Lightning cracked and lit up the night sky to give it an eerie glow. "Go get yourself strapped in, Dave," Mark ordered as he reached for the radio. Dave hurried back into the fuselage as Mark attempted once more to radio for help.

"What's going on?" Gary demanded in a scared little boy voice. His skin was pasty white and covered with sweat. His body shook from fear as tears ran down his cheeks. If he hadn't been such a bottom-dwelling scum-sucking scumbag, it would have been comical to see the transition from criminal bully to pathetic wuss in the span of a nano-second.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit!" The shaking increased as the tears fell faster.

At that moment, the plane shuddered as the lights went out, then came back on three seconds later.

"I thought you said it was nothing!" Gary screamed out in fear. His wrists strained against the strong metal cuffs as he tried to break free.

"And I thought I told you to shut up!" Dave shouted back loud enough to be heard over the eardrum piercing humming which filled the cabin.

"What is that noise? What is that noise?" Gary tried to cover his ears to block the noise the best he could despite his retraints. "Make it stop! Make it stop!" he cried as he bent forward to put his face in his own lap.

"Sit up!" Dave ordered in his best Marine Sargent tone. "And put on your seatbelt!" Gary only sobbed harder. "God have mercy!" Dave bit out as he leaned over the man and tried to get him upright. "Sit up! Sit up!" The harder he tried to get Gary to work with him, the more the man resisted.

"I'm going to die. I'm going to die."

"You're probably right," Dave agreed without any sympathy. "But I still have to get you buckled in." He reached for the male-end of the safety device and tried to put it across Gary's lap, but the large girth prevented it. "Son of a bitch!" he bit out.

"I want my mommy!"

"Aw, shut up," Dave snapped as he tried to extend the belt to give more slack. The plane rolled violently port to starboard and back. Dave was flung back to land on the deck. Stunned and winded, he lay for a moment before pushing himself to his feet to complete his task.

"Don't let me die. Don't let me die," Gary blubbered as his words became more incoherent. Shoving the two ends of the belt together, Dave heard the click. Satisfied that the prisoner would live to see his court date, Dave worked on securing himself before impact.

"Dave! I'm going to try and land the plane!" Mark called over the speaker. "We're at one thousand feet and falling!"

They weren't in free-fall, but they were pretty damn close.

Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee... Dave recited to himself as his fingers touched the beads on the rosary tucked in his sports coat pocket. He felt something rough brush against his index finger.

Dave pulled the folded piece of paper out and looked at it. The ultrasound picture of his baby! Oh God, let me live long enough to see my baby, he prayed silently. Let me live long enough to tell Emily how much I love her!

"Dave, I can't hold her!" Mark nearly screamed as he put all of his strength into trying to pull the nose of the plane up. "May day! May day! May day!"

Lighting cracked in the sky, the sound reverberated through out the cabin, and a moment later the plane rocked hard. Dave felt his nails dig into the fake leather arm rests. He closed his eyes and braced for impact, the prayer still on his lips.

.blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus...

Lightning stuck again. Hard.

Then the plane went dark.