Charlie sat in the back of the car, her arms cramping from the awkward angle they made, bent behind her back while her wrists were secured by two zip ties that had nearly cut off the circulation in her hands. She had long since stopped trying to twist them loose, as each movement only seemed to tighten the bonds securing them, rather than loosen them so she might get free. A part of her hated the fact that she had given up the fight so easily, though she knew that if she made her attempts too obvious, she would only draw attention from Mack, and the other man in the passenger seat in front of her. And so, Charlie simply settled for remaining as upright as she could, unbuckled and unable to use her hands to steady her position, a wince passing over her features every now and again as a bump jostled the car in irregular intervals, and forced her to stiffen almost every muscle she possessed to resist gravity's attempts at tugging her down to lay awkwardly upon her shoulder and side, instead.

For their part, the men in the front of the car were silent, the lack of any conversation, no matter what the topic was unnerving to say the least, as it left Charlie with nothing else to do but dread what was to come. She may have put up a strong front, trying to pretend with Mack and the others that she wasn't afraid of anything they could think of to throw at her. But the truth of the matter was, she was absolutely terrified that this could be the end of the line for her, her teeth digging into the flesh of her lower lip so often that she could taste blood, now, every time she repeated the act whether she wanted to, or not.

There was so much she felt she still needed to do—to atone for—and not having the chance to do those things frightened her more than she cared to admit.

Knowing that spending too much time dwelling on her fears would do her little good, however, Charlie did the best she could to force her mind away from such thoughts, a shaky breath leaving her lungs as she shifted a bit in the back seat of the car, and swallowed in spite of the scratchy dryness of her throat. It occurred to her that she had not had a sip of water—anything to eat—in longer than she could remember, a spasm of nerves scissoring their way down her spine as she realized that had likely been the intent all along. Hunger—thirst—both would contribute to disorientation, and the less coherent she was, the easier it would be to dispose of her in any way that Mack saw fit.

In response to the thought, Charlie found that her hands were clenching into fists behind her back, a low hiss escaping as the act caused the zip ties to cut into her wrists once again. Though she never wanted it to, the act seemed to earn her the attention of the two men sitting up front, the sudden pressure of a bruising grip upon her thigh causing her to flinch before a gruff voice reached her ears.

"She's tryin' to get free, boss."

No response came to the words save for the almost immediate squeal of the car's tires, and the sudden jerking of the vehicle towards what Charlie could only surmise was the side of the road, the motion causing her to finally become incapable of holding herself upright such that she was slammed sideways with the majority of her weight landing upon her shoulder and her right cheek. Unbidden, she allowed a groan to escape, the sound muffled by the padding of the seat as she shifted as best she could until she could lift her head up to look at the door after the car had come to a complete stop. In mere seconds, it was opening, the sudden brightness of the light outside causing her to squint before she was being yanked out by a punishing grip on her hair and shoulder. Though she tried to avoid it, Charlie was absolutely incapable of fighting of the startled yelp that escaped in response, her eyes watering as she was forced to her feet, and stumbled a bit as she struggled to catch her footing. Forcing her eyes open, she silently cursed the tears that were already streaming down her face while her scalp stung beneath the grip of a hand that she now realized belonged to none other than Mack, himself. And before she could come up with anything to say to him, whether that was to taunt him, or plead for her life, she found the gesture rendered moot, another tug to the roots of her hair causing her to cry out as Mack pulled her close enough so that when he spoke, she could feel his breath, hot against the skin of her face.

"I thought you were smart enough to know when to keep quiet."

"I wasn't—Mack, I wasn't doing anything!" Charlie exclaimed, hating how her tone had turned pleading, in spite of her initial desire to remain indifferent to anything Mack decided to throw her way, "Look, I don't know what your friend saw, but—"

"Don't even try it, Charlie. You wanted out of the car? I got you out of the car."

"What're you gonna do, boss?" The other man inquired, moving to stand at Mack's side, and glancing between him and Charlie as though waiting for either one of them to do something rash, "We got cars all around us, here. Someone's bound to see something."

"You think I give a damn about that?"

"You should. Witness statements count for a lot in a court of law."

"I don't recall asking you," Mack spat, turning his attention back to Charlie as soon as she had spoken, and using the hold he still had upon her hair to yank her head back until she was looking him straight in the eye, "Shut. Up."

"Or what?"

"Or I give you two in the back of the head right now, and you're done."

Clamping her mouth shut in response to the threat, Charlie did her best to remain absolutely still, the pain at the back of her skull forcing her to bite down on a scream while one hand reached up to latch upon Mack's arm in a bid to ease his grip. She could feel her fingernails digging into the leather of his jacket, though that act seemed to have little outward impact on his demeanor, itself. And although she could hear the distant sound of cars passing them by—although she prayed with all she had that someone would notice her predicament and attempt to help, Charlie found that no help appeared to be forthcoming, the sudden force with which Mack shoved her away from him causing her to stumble in the grass at the side of the road, a low huff escaping as she finally found her footing in time to realize he had yanked the gun concealed in the waistband of his pants out, and pointed it directly at her chest.

"Walk."

"Mack—come on, baby, we can—we can talk about this—"

"Walk," He persisted, inclining his head in a direction that led away from the road, and leveling the gun with absolutely no emotion showing in his eyes whatsoever. Gone was the man that had once looked at her with something that, if not love, at least bore some resemblance to affection…

That man, it seemed, had been replaced by someone that Charlie hardly even recognized.

Aware that following his instructions appeared to be the wisest course of action, Charlie turned and began to walk in the direction Mack had indicated, her hands still flexing behind her back on occasion in spite of the fact that she knew the act to be futile. Every instinct she possessed told her that this was it. That Mack was likely getting them to a place far enough off the road that they could take care of business, such as it was, without being seen. And although she knew very well that it was likely wise of her to be feeling a healthy level of fear at the prospect, she could not entirely stop her mind from scrabbling about for something—anything—that she could use to get out of this, her teeth once again taking up the act of digging into her lower lip as she simultaneously felt the barrel of Mack's gun pressing against her spine.

"Keep it moving, bitch."

Stumbling forward, and glancing around at the ground near her feet as though some means of escape would become forthcoming, Charlie bit back a sigh as her eyes took in nothing but grass and the occasional piece of litter, instead. Almost immediately, panic clawed its way through her chest and up her throat, somehow seeming to strangle the very breath from her lungs in spite of the fact that she knew such a distraction would only do more harm than good. And before she could fully stop herself, Charlie found her mind straying towards thoughts of her family, the burn of tears once again pricking at her eyes as she continued to walk at a fast enough pace to keep her back away from the feel of Mack's gun…

…

"Sarge—found some coffee on the dining room table. Still warm. Whoever was here, they must have just left," Halstead informed, approaching Voight and Lindsay where they stood at the top of the stairs, and glancing down at the small object his superior held in his hands as it glinted in the light above the stairwell, "What's that?"

"Charlie's ring."

"What?"

"Camille gave it to her. Before she—before she died," Erin replied, aware of the sudden understanding that took over Jay's features, before she was redirecting her attention to Voight, just in time to see him stow the ring inside his jacket pocket, "What do you want to do, Hank?"

"The car we tracked here—"

"Gone," Jay filled in, risking a glance at Erin, and noticing that she had averted her eyes, while simultaneously lifting one hand to drag through already slightly tousled hair, "Seems likely that whoever has Charlie took it when they moved her."

"Means they're either stupid, or cocky. Either way, we need Jin to run another trace on that car."

"Already put in the call. He said he'd call your phone directly when he had something to go on."

"Smart move," Voight acknowledged, moving past Halstead and Lindsay to head down the stairs, and remaining oblivious to the shared glance between them over his sudden departure, "Olinsky!"

"Yeah—"

"Take Ruzek, Antonio, and Halstead back to the precinct."

"What?"

"You heard me, Alvin."

"No, I know I heard you. I just don't believe what you're saying," Olinsky began, ignoring the hard look Voight gave him, and moving to step in front of him to halt his progress before going on, "We don't even know where this guy took her."

"Let me worry about that. I need you back at the precinct if we catch another case."

"Voight, come on, you can't be serious—"

"The less interference we have on this thing, the better," Voight cut in, taking note of the restraining hand Erin had placed upon Halstead's arm to prevent him from adding his protest to Olinsky's, and gesturing for her to stand at his side in the same motion, "Lindsay will come with me. That's it."

"And if these guys have other friends hiding in the woodwork? What then?" Alvin pressed, already anticipating the sort of blow-back he was about to receive from Ruzek when he found out what the new plan would be, and finding himself more than a little reluctant to face such a thing with a likely disgruntled Halstead in tow, as well, "You and Lindsay just take them out on your own?"

"We do what needs to be done, Alvin. You know that."

Aware that Voight was not likely to be swayed from his current path, and yet still more than a little concerned about the outcome if he were allowed to have his way, Olinsky opted for remaining silent for the moment, stepping to the side so that Voight could pass him by, and head for the front door unimpeded. Having known the man as long as he had, Alvin was no stranger to the fact that it was better to simply let Voight have his way when he was in a mood like this. But even that knowledge was not quite enough to make him at ease with the man's apparent decision to pursue whatever lead they might obtain on Charlie on his own…

He knew exactly what Voight was capable of even when the victim in question was not his family, and he would have been a liar to pretend that he was not very much aware of what stood to happen to whoever had taken Charlie, whether he wanted to look the reality in the eye, or not.

"You sure we should be letting him go off on his own like this?" Halstead asked then, startling Olinsky out of his own thoughts, and causing him to glance at the younger man for just enough time to see the very real concern etched upon his features, "He can't—we can't have him going off the reservation, here. Not when—"

"Not when Charlie needs him."

"Yeah."

"If we don't, we just make this worse, kid. We can't make it worse," Olinsky cautioned, clapping a hand on Halstead's shoulder, and keeping him in place while Erin sidled around him to follow after Voight, "Go find Ruzek and Dawson. We need to get back to the precinct."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, Halstead. Seriously. Unless you want to be the one to tell Voight why you didn't follow orders."

"Not really."

"Then go," Alvin repeated, removing his hand from Jay's shoulder, and watching as the younger man moved off towards the direction in which they had last seen Ruzek and Dawson, despite the obvious reluctance he felt about being sent off to do such a thing in the first place. Passing a hand over his face in hopes that it would relieve some of the tension that seemed to have taken root in his entire body, Alvin emitted a soft groan, the idea that he would have liked a shot at the perp they were chasing himself startling him, in spite of his determination to remain level-headed. He could only imagine what he would be going through if this was Lexi being held by someone that was willing to do anything they needed to save his own skin. And perhaps that was the precise reason that he was struggling with the prospect of being left behind.

He knew what it would do to Hank Voight if he lost his daughter, no matter what the relationship was like between them, because he knew exactly what he would be going through if the same thing were happening to him.

…

Adam Ruzek had been cooling his heels back at the precinct for what felt like forever, his inability to sit still apparently proving unnerving for both Olinsky and Antonio, despite the fact that he knew they were every bit as irritated at the prospect of being sent back to headquarters as he was. Truthfully, he was more than a little surprised that Halstead had accepted their supposed fate as quietly as he had, the glance he cast towards Jay's desk showing him nothing save for a man that was seemingly already occupied with scanning through something on his computer screen. But perhaps what surprised him more was the fact that Voight had only wanted Lindsay at his side, when Adam knew that he was the reason this entire charade had transpired in the first place.

"Voight said he'd call, right? If they had anything—"

"And he hasn't, yet. Which means they don't have anything," Antonio cut in, watching as Ruzek once again took up the act of pacing the floor in front of his desk, while one hand made an almost continuous path through his already tousled hair, "You need to get your mind off of this, Ruzek."

"Kind of hard to do that when it's my fault."

"It's not your fault, kid—"

"Except that it is," Adam insisted, turning to look directly at Olinsky, and deflating a bit as soon as he realized he was not about to get any camaraderie there, when the older man appeared to be bound and determined to avoid acknowledging the way he felt about the situation at all, "It is my fault. I turn my back for one second, and she's gone."

"And it could have happened to any one of us," Antonio supplied, aware of the scoff that Adam gave in response, and yet choosing to press on regardless, "It could have been any one of us in that house with Charlie, when she gave us the slip, man. This isn't on you."

"Tell me you wouldn't be blaming yourself if it had been you in there, Dawson. Tell me that, and maybe I'll believe you."

"I can't do that."

"Exactly. So why don't we all shut up about it, and let me just think what I'm gonna think, alright?"

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Adam regretted them, though he was not about to admit to that fact out loud, his fingers tearing through his hair again as he moved to slump in the chair behind his desk with another groan. No matter what he did, the guilt that he felt over letting Hank Voight's daughter slip right through his fingers—the very real concern he felt for what Charlie might be fighting to survive, even now was near to overwhelming. And nothing that any of his coworkers had to say about it was going to convince him that he was not at fault when he knew for a fact that he was.

With that thought at the forefront of his mind, Adam forced himself out of his chair almost as soon as he had sat down, the sudden scrape of the legs against the flooring provoking glances from his companions that ranged from simple curiosity, to outright frustration. Ignoring that, however, he reached for his jacket where he had left it hanging over the back of his chair, and used its bulk to conceal the fact that he had reached for his gun and badge, as well…

He was going to fix this. He had to fix this. But to do that, Adam also knew that Halstead, Alvin and Antonio couldn't have any idea of what, exactly, it was that he was leaving for.

"I'm gonna go get some air," He began, aware of every single pairs of eyes coming to rest on him, and forcing all of the evenness he could muster into his expression as he looked each of them in the eye, and prayed that none of them would make a point of questioning his intentions before he could depart, "I'll be right back."

"Want me to come with?"

"No. No, Jay, I—I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I'm just going to get some air."

Before Jay, or anyone else could make any further attempts at stalling him, Adam headed towards the stairs, and took them as quickly as he could, while simultaneously shrugging into his jacket, and slipping his gun into the holster at his side. He knew he only had minutes to get to his car, and drive away before any one of his coworkers upstairs realized he was not coming back, and sent someone out after him.

He just had to hope that Jin would be cooperative when he called him for Voight's location, and that he wouldn't spill the beans to anyone else when they started to wonder why a simple trip outside had suddenly turned into an hour or more of being missing in action…

…

Charlie had been walking for what felt like ages, now, her hands having gone numb some time ago in response to the sudden chill in the air, as the sun sank below the horizon and there was nothing left to see but darkness. She hardly knew why she was being forced so far off the beaten path, the lingering logical side of her mind pondering over exactly how they intended to get back to their car after they disposed of her. Some small part of her figured they would simply leave her body wherever they ended things, because the idea of carting dead weight all the way back to the car just didn't make sense. But then she was brought to the realization that if they did leave her, she would be left as a meal for some wayward coyote, or a vulture, or any other number of wild creatures, the laugh that erupted from her throat more than a little hysterical despite the fact that all she really wanted to do was cry.

Foolish pride seemed all but determined to refuse to allow her even that small mercy, however, her eyes remaining fixed on some invisible point straight ahead, such that every so often she would stumble as her feet caught on a lump of grass, or an uneven bit of ground. Every so often, she could feel the barrel of Mack's gun nudging against her back to keep her moving, the sharp breaths coming from behind her indicating that both he, and his companion were following her every bit as closely as they had been, before. She wanted to scream. To do something—anything reckless enough that it would prompt them to just end it, already. Waiting for the inevitable—waiting for death—was almost worse than the consideration of the reality of it, itself. But it seemed she was too cowardly, even for that, her steps continuing to carry her forward until she heard the surprising sound of water lapping at a nearby shore.

That would explain what they were going to do with her body, then…

As though sensing the particular line of her thoughts, Charlie found herself flinching as Mack suddenly latched onto her arm where it remained tethered behind her back, the roughness of his grip provoking a whimper before she could even begin to make the attempt to stop it. The gesture brought her steps to a complete stop, her breath catching in her lungs as she felt the sudden proximity of his face near her own. And although she knew it was ridiculous to be saying such a thing, given her circumstances, Charlie could not help but give in to the urge, regardless, her words only wavering slightly as she forced herself to glance at Mack out of the corner of her eye.

"I really did love you, you know."

"I know," Mack replied, his fingers digging into her skin so tightly that Charlie was all but certain there would be a bruise encircling her arm in mere seconds, flat, "It just wasn't enough."

Before she could think of any form of a reply, Charlie found herself being shoved to rest on her knees, a gasp escaping as she realized that in her attempts at keeping herself focused on the present, she had somehow missed the fact that she was now on gravel, and not grass at all. The pebbles were digging into her skin, even through the barrier presented by her jeans. And although she could hear the sound of Mack's harsh breathing coming from somewhere behind her, now—although she could sense the presence of the other man nearby as well, watching as though this were something entertaining one would find on the television, and not a real, live murder about to take place right before his very eyes, Charlie found herself suddenly focusing on the water that she could now see before her, the light of the moon reflecting off of the waves giving her an eerie sort of calm, while the sound of a gun being cocked simultaneously reached her ears.

It was beautiful.

Closing her eyes, and exhaling slowly through her nose, Charlie did what she could to simply absorb herself in the feel of the gentle, albeit chilly breeze against the skin of her cheeks, her mind clinging to the idea of the afterlife her mother had always told her about when she was a little girl. She hoped she would see her again. She needed to believe that she would be able to see her mother again, after missing her for so long that it was like a physical pain that would not go away. But perhaps what she wanted even more than the possibility of seeing her mother again was the ability to make amends with her father—a possibility that had now all but slipped away as she felt the cold reality of the barrel of Mack's gun pressing against the back of her skull.

"Daddy—I'm so, so sorry—"

With her teeth digging into her lower lip, Charlie forced herself to take one last, deep breath, her heart starting to hammer against her ribcage as survival instinct tried to break through her previously distracted calm. It took everything she had to continue to remain still, when every muscle and nerve-ending she possessed wanted to flee. But somehow, she remained as immovable as possible, despite the shivering that had taken over in response to the cold. And then it happened.

The sound of a gunshot echoed in the otherwise still quiet of the night, and Charlie's mouth opened in a silent scream as everything went black, and she knew no more…

…

Well hello there, my lovelies! And welcome (finally) to a brand new chapter in Charlie's tale. I know, I know…I did an evil cliffhanger. But the more I thought about exactly where to take this chapter, the more I couldn't see any other way around it. So hopefully, after such a long absence thanks to an almost complete immersion in another fandom, the addition of a cliffhanger doesn't make you all hate me too much. Because I can promise that I am nowhere near to being finished, here! And of course I appreciate your patience with my often sporadic updates more than you know!

As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far (and special thanks to last chapter's reviewers: ChiTown4ever, Duchess of Lantern Waste, July, Long Live BRUCAS, and ItsJustBecca for leaving such wonderful feedback the last time around)! I truly do appreciate the support, and as always I cannot wait to hear what you think of this latest installment! Feel free to yell at me for the cliffie, too. I know I kind of deserve it.

Until next time, my darlings…

MOMM