Title: Love Apart
Disclaimer: Violence, Slash, Angst.
POV: Speed
Chapter Thirteen: Slow Death
I lay on the basement floor, sweating profusely. Things have gone so wrong. All I had wanted was time off.
My arms are uncomfortably under my back. I want to move. To roll over. But I can't. The pain is too much. I sigh and finally give up the fight.
Slowly I lose consciousness.
Earlier that day…
"Here, put these on," my captor says. He throws a fresh pain of clothes at me.
"I can't," I remark. I raise my handcuffed wrists.
"Don't try anything dumb," he warns as he un-cuffs me. He shows me his gun.
"Whatever."
I try to dress hastily but fail in my mission. It's hard to move with a swollen shoulder and bruised ribs. I finally mange to get all the clothes on. I actually feel nice in fresh clothing. What is going on? My captor replaces the handcuffs.
"Go on, up the stairs."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
I feel the barrel on my back. Climbing stairs is hard to do when you're in pain and your hands are cuffed. At the landing he blindfolds me.
"What the hell is this for?"
"Shut up or I'll put a bullet through your head!"
I shut my mouth. With my captor directing me I walk through the house. A door opens; the fresh air lets me know when we step outside. The warmth of the sun surprises me. This man has guts.
A few steps later he pushes me into something. I hit my already swollen shoulder on metal. I bite my tongue to keep from making any noise. Taste of blood fills my mouth. I hear doors slam. A minute passes and then I hear the front door slam and the engine start up.
While driving along my mind goes wild. Where the hell is he taking me? Am I finally going to meet my end? This is not how I want to die. I want to die with my friends nearby. Not in an alley in a big city. And if I die now, I'll never get answers to my questions. Most importantly, I'll miss out if Delko finally admits he likes Horatio as more than a friend.
We stop moving. I hear my captor get out of the van. Twenty minutes pass of nothing but silence. Then I hear the van doors open again. He climbs into the back and takes the blindfold off.
"You are going to do something for me," he says. "Come on."
He shoves me out of the van and I hit the ground. The pavement bites my knees. He pulls me to my feet. We're in an alley. My heart starts racing. He's going to kill me.
He forces me toward a dumpster. Is that to be my final resting place? By the dumpster is a young man. He's lying unconscious on the ground.
"What is this?" I ask.
"You're chore," he replies, while un-cuffing my right wrist. He places a gun in my hand. "You're going to kill him. With your own gun."
I stare at the poor man in front of me. This is wrong. I can't take this man's life. He's probably not even twenty.
The cool metal of the gun speaks to me. It's now or never. I whirl around to shoot my captor.
The crack of gun fire.
I fall to the ground in pain.
"I told you not to do anything stupid."
I reach again for the gun but he kicks it away. Turning me over roughly, he replaces the handcuffs.
"Guess the poor bastard will live to see another day. You, on the other hand, might not be so lucky."
I watch as he throws my badge on the unconscious man. Then it's back to the van.
I pull out of the black. I wish it was all a dream. The shock is fading away. The pain is parading through my body.
I scream. My thigh feels like it's on fire.
I can feel the tears on my cheeks. Nick and Danny need to find me. The sooner the better. Without medical help the wound will get infected. Who knows, I might even die from loss of blood.
Isn't life ironic? I wanted to take time away to deal with being shot. Now here I am, lying in a basement with a bullet in my thigh.
"Danny," I whisper. "Nicky….anybody…somebody….help me. Please."