My apologies for being gone for a bit. Life changes kept me busy. This is a complete story, so rest assured I will be posting all the chapters as time allows.
Things hadn't changed much by the time he came back to.
The cold floor, tied up limbs, the incessant headache slowly turning into the numb sort of pain that dulled his senses.
Just like last time, the room was quiet, except for the occasional expletives coming from a few feet away. The air seemed to have cooled off significantly, making his body tremble, his tired muscles fighting to stay warm.
Unsure of just how long he'd been out, Esposito opened his eyes and tried to clear his throat, a motion that caused him to cough violently, and with it, for Beckett's cursing to stop immediately.
"Are you ok?", she asked worriedly as he tilted his head back enough to see her in the chair against the wall.
"A little stiff…", Esposito countered, trying to sound cocky but ending up surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded.
"Well, you slept through the welcoming committee. There were three of them, telling us that we're prisoners until the elections are over with."
Drawing in a deep breath, Esposito glanced back down at the ropes holding him in place, cursing himself for not being able to think of anything he could do to escape the current quandary.
"Who are we dealing with here? They didn't hit me like the usual suits."
"No. They looked more like some sort of mercenaries. It was the same guys that overwhelmed us in Steward's bedroom. They wore some sort of battle fatigues with a symbol on their shoulder. A circle, half blue, half red, with a black-"
"Lightning bolt through it…", Esposito continued and lowered his head back to the ground, sighing.
"You know them?"
"Yeah, I heard about them. They call themselves Dark Shadows. It's some post-Vietnam War militia group. They specialize in protection deals. They're all African-Americans."
"Like some sort of soldiers of fortune?"
"More like thugs with business cards. They started out as some do-gooder type of movement, wanting to change the world, unify people; they did a lot of community work back in the day. But some of the leaders wanted to bring in more money, grow the business. So they started to take on questionable contracts. It caused a lot of upheaval from within, a bunch of them left, others started their own groups. I didn't know they'd grown so desperate as to protect a lowlife like Steward."
"So, they went from trying to grow peace to cover up murder and kidnapping? Talk about a downward spiral…", Beckett scoffed and shook her head, "How many of them usually work together on…on an assignment? I saw three of them down here. Is that a typical size? "
"Four to six is the normal size, yeah. If they do something bigger, like a march, it'd be nothing to see twelve of them. I didn't even know they did any work in the area anymore. Last time I heard about them, I'd just joined Organized Crime."
Esposito slowed down when the headache threatened to make him sick, the door frame in front of him beginning to sway from side to side. Without being able to see his wristwatch, he was left to guess that nightfall had come by now, and with it, the bone-chilling temperatures that were prevalent in early November.
Problem was, the elections were still a few days away, too much time for them to stay tied up down here without any heat source or food.
"Espo, don't go to sleep on me again.", came Beckett's stern warning and he opened his eyes again, attempting to shake his head but not mustering the strength.
"…'m…not."
"Yes, you are and you know it. You've been coming in an out of consciousness. You know what that means. You have to stay awake. Tell me…tell me more about these dark shadow guys…"
"My shoulder is killing me…", he groaned instead, unable to focus on the conversation any longer, "Lemme see if I can flip around…"
"You think that's wise?"
For a few moments, he ignored her comment altogether and carefully pulled his legs to his chest, then used the resistance from the O-Ring to drag himself onto his knees and elbows.
There he stayed for what seemed like an eternity, breathing heavy, relishing the fact that although everything was hurting, it felt like all the moving pieces were still where they belonged, minus a few bruises that would be a phenomenal shade of black and blue by now.
Sighing, he glanced down at the rope keeping him securely tied to the floor, his arms and legs fighting every last bit of movement after the prolonged time in restrains.
He wondered if that's how some of their murder victims felt before they died; scared, hopeless, frustrated.
The sheer thought threatened to shatter the wall of professionalism he'd built over the years, trying to retain his sanity in a world full of people whose only goal in life was complete destruction and utter, senseless suffering.
Scoffing at his moment of weakness, the self-pity that threatened to cloud his common sense, Esposito tugged on the rope, not surprised when it didn't budge, then carefully dropped to his left side.
Although the thud made his ribs protest, it allowed him to give his aching shoulder a rest, and hopefully with it, retain some form of movement should an opportunity for escape arise.
"Hey Espo, can you imagine what Castle and Ryan are doing at the moment?"
Beckett chuckled, as though the sheer mental image of his partner and the crime-fighting novel writer would be enough to brighten her day.
Esposito closed his eyes for a moment, imagining Kevin following a stern-faced Castle around town, the odd pair shaking doorknobs one neighborhood at a time in hopes of finding them.
"I'd rather not…"
"Oh, come on, just think of all the cliché bantering, the male bonding, Ryan raising his eyebrows as he watches Castle put on his intensive investigator routine…"
Managing a smile, Esposito rested his head on the floor, feeling the smooth concrete against his short black hair, allowing Beckett's small talk to distract him for a few precious moments.
But truth be told, he'd much rather be back with Ryan himself now.