Present day.
Nick Burkhardt was heading home after a blissfully mundane day in the office and grumbling quietly to himself that the snow storm that had been forecast was coming in earlier and heavier than predicted. Despite the appalling weather he was feeling pretty pleased with himself because he had managed to pick up a couple of really nice bottles of organic merlot which, he was sure, Monroe was going to appreciate together with an antique clock in dire need of some TLC that Mnroe would love. He was still unsure exactly what he had done to upset his friend so badly, to be honest the aftermath of the Kimberly Crace case was still pretty blurry. Nick had gone over and over that night but it was as if he had been in some kind of fugue state and the details were pretty blurry. He remembered Hank gently encouraging him to let go of Kimberley's little body so that the medical examiner's people could take her, promising him that they would care for her. He remembered Captain Renard, unusually compassionate, insisting that Nick go home and leave the processing of the scene to him and his partner.
Nick remembered that he had got halfway home, actually to the 'decision' junction with his brain in neutral. Right would take him home to Juliette, left would take him to Monroe's. Nick froze and if it had not been for the irate driver behind him flashing his lights who knows who long he would have sat there. He had no real idea which option he had gone for but the relief that swept through him when Monroe opened his door was indescribable. He knew that Juliette would have been insistent that he talk through what had happened, to tell her about it all and relive the awful conclusion again and again - her compassion was always based upon a thorough understanding of any situation. Monroe, on the other hand, had simply invited him in, cared for him, played his cello for him and held him until he slept. His quiet care had meant everything and Nick was at a loss as to why this chasm seemed to have opened between them, it had been over two weeks since he had seen the blutbad and he missed him. Even Juliette, who had had her own three day strop about where Nick had been that night, was on his case about how miserable and mopey he had been and had demanded that, whatever was wrong between him and Monroe, he should fix it. Monroe had been ignoring his texts and phone calls so Nick had decided he would just show up at his door and refuse to leave until they had sorted this thing between them out once and for all. He wasn't too happy about his plan to o ambush his friend in his own home but he was resolved that, if Monroe continued to ignore him, he would sit on the blutbad's front porch until this whatever it was between them was sorted.
Nick was running potential conversations in his head, along the lines of 'he'll say and then I'll say' whilst still driving carefully and competently in the deteriorating weather. He kind of hoped that the snow would force Monroe to offer him a bed for the night, the thought made him smile.
Heightened awareness of what was going on around you was one of the most important skills a cop could develop. One of the downsides to this, however, was that it was pretty much impossible to switch off, so, despite being immersed in his daydreams, when Nick saw a small van, with no lights, stealthily entering a derelict warehouse when it clearly had no reason to do so, there was no way he could ignore it.
Leaving his car a little way down the street, Nick carefully made his way into the building, moving carefully and quietly. Head down against the driving snow, he was almost taken by surprise as a sleek 4x4 roared past him, out of the building and away, ducking inside an open doorway just in time to avoid being seen. Cautiously, Nick moved into the main body of the building. The van he had noticed was parked and two men were stashing a number of sports bags into it. Nick stared hard, the atmosphere in the building was tense but no one had woged. Not Wesen then, just run-of-the-mill bad guys. The situation had all the hallmarks of a low level drug deal, these guys we're probably couriers - moving the drugs onto the main distributors. Before Nick was able to retrace his steps and call it in, something smashed into the back of his head bringing him to his knees. Even as he struggled to get up he was hit again and he slumped to the floor, semi-conscious.
There was a sound of running feet and Nick was aware of rough hands searching him. His head injuries were making him feel woozy and floaty and although he was aware that there was a conversation going on it felt like he was listening to a radio play.
Voice 1 - What the fuck man? What the fuck?
Voice 2 - Bastard was spying on us. [Nick was vaguely aware that his gun,wallet and badge were being taken from him]
Voice 3 - Hey, he's got a gun!
Voice 2 - Fuck. He's a cop.
Voice 1 - What do we do? Should we kill him?
Voice 2 - Kill a cop? Are you insane?
Voice 3 - I ain't going down as no cop killer, dude.
Voice 2 - shut up and let me think.
Then something hit Nick again and a blackness swallowed him
He came to in the back of the van, resting on the pile of sports bags. He felt dizzy and sick and something sticky was matting his hair. He lay still, trying to get any clue as to where he was. The road noise told him that they were travelling along the interstate and the lack of traffic noise suggested that they had already left the city behind.
"How long was I out?" He mumbled to himself. He took a risk and raised his head in an attempt to see out all he could make out were the silhouettes of two of his attackers one of them turned to check on him and Nick dropped his head and lay still.
"He still with us?"
"Yeah, I think he's still breathing. Jed, what are we gonna do, man?"
"We stick to the plan. Your brother will text us with the meet up place and time. The snow is gonna slow us down but he'll liaise with the guys we're delivering this to, make sure they'll wait and not just assume we are ripping them off." There was a ding from someone's phone, a brief pause then Jed continued " a text from Robbie - he says to keep our nerve and stick to the plan. Told you."
"Fuck man, what a mess, what a cluster fuck. If we piss off these dudes, we are dead man! It's OK for Robbie to say stick to the plan, he is safe and warm in Portland. We are the schmucks driving into a snow storm in your shitty van with a fuck ton of coke and a concussed cop."
"It's cool, Pete. I gotta plan. When we hit the forest, we walk him into the woods and leave him there. He's gotta be concussed after the way your brother hit him. It's already starting to snow harder and it's gonna be below freezing tonight. If he dies out in the forest, there is nothing they can pin on us," said Jed.
"Brilliant," Pete's voice was full of admiration.
"Here should do," said Jed, turning the van onto a rutted track. They bumped along in silence for a while before Jed was satisfied they could not be seen from the highway. " his gun and the baseball bat and let's get this thing done." Jed growled as Pete scurried around to the back doors, grabbed ahold of Nick and dragged him outside.
Nick made a clumsy swing at Pete but missed by a mile and overbalanced to land on his knees. Jed, who was rounding the corner of the van burst out laughing. "Portland P.D finest? What a joke." He pulled Nick to his feet and dragged his coat off, throwing it into the back of the van and laughing once more as the icy wind bit through Nick's thin sweater and tee shirt making him shiver. Jed shoved Nick's gun onto his back and pushed him deeper into the forest.
To Nick it felt as though he had been lurching through this nightmare for hours before Jed pushed him into the middle of a thicket. Nick stumbled to halt and tried to make his mouth work, he felt sick and shaky and he was having difficulty in focussing; he was also genuinely afraid that he was gonna die in this forest, "guys, you need to think this through" he mumbled thickly. "Drug deals are one thing but killing a cop is a whole different ball game."
Pete, at least, seemed willing to consider that Nick may have a point. " I think he's right, Jed," he said nervously. "Maybe we should listen to him."
Jed hefted the baseball bat bringing it down heavily on Nick's skull once more. "Maybe he should shut the fuck up," he growled, kicking Nick's insensible body for good measure.
"I dunno. Suppose he wakes up and makes it back to the road. He's seen our faces, he knows our names…"
"Good point." Jed rolled the unconscious Nick onto his back and brought the bat down, hard, on his lower leg and followed that up by stamping down on it heavily. The crack of the bones breaking sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the woods. He handed the weapon to Pete. "We are in this together," he said, "your turn."
"Swallowing heavily, Pete swung the weighty bat at Nick' s thigh several times until he heard the bone crunch.
"Good," said Jed approvingly. "This fucker isn't going anywhere."
The two men turned and trudged away, the heavy snow that was falling erasing their footprints as they went.
