A/N: OK, lots of head hopping in this chapter, trying to capture everyone's perspective of what is happening to LaSalle. As usual, thank you to COL for the chats and discussion, that have made this story what it is and thank to you to my new followers.

Chapter 12: Gone in Ninety Minutes.

"Sonja, just got a lead on the guy that Cade identified, as Mercenary Mike," Brody told Pride. "She's running it down now."

"Good," Pride answered, as his cell phone came to life with Sebastian's name scrolling across the screen. It was a shot in the dark but he had asked the forensic scientist to take a look at the composition and specifics of the box that LaSalle had been entombed in, hoping that it would give them something to go on, a clue, a detail. Anything at this point would prove helpful. "What do you have for us, Sebastian?"

When Brody and Pride's worried faces popped up on his computer screen, Sebastian let out a shuddering breath, "I wish I had good news. Based on Agent LaSalle's height and weight and the projected dimensions of the box, the best estimation of his…"

The loveable lab geek could barely get the words out. How could he tell them that their friend, the man they all loved, was more than likely going to suffocate before they even had a chance to get their investigation off of the ground?

Loretta stepped up behind him, gently squeezing his shoulders. "Just tell them." She prompted softly.

His soft eyes dropped to the floor as he swallowed back the idea he was never going to see LaSalle again, his friend, who occasionally, invited him to hang with the guys, instead of treating him like the intelligent outcast that most perceived him "Ninety Minutes," he choked, turning into Loretta.

"Keep us posted," she said as she wrapped her arms about the crumbling man-child.

Pride ended the call, sharing a more than concerned look with Brody. He (they) had less than two hours to find, his best friend, the man he thought of as a son. Less than two hours to not only track down his location but to rescue him from a suffocating tomb. The King of New Orleans had been in time sensitive situations before but nothing like this, nothing that said, he was in jeopardy of losing one of his own.

Brody turned away from the senior agent. "So, Chris will run out of air in ninety minutes…"

/Fuck! Shit/ She wanted to kick something. She wanted to fall down on her knees and scream, but instead she held the storm of emotions inside. If she were the one missing, trapped and running out of air, her partner, the man she recently slapped in the face for pointing out the truth would give everything he had to bring her back. Why had she let her frustration with his unconventional ways of handling his grief come to a physical altercation on her part? If he died without her being able to-

She pushed the thought from her mind, turning to face Pride. "What do we do?"

The senior agent already had his phone in hand trying to reach Plame. If there were a technological way to find LaSalle, Patton Plame would be the one to do it.

"Call Christopher. I'm going to see if Pat, can track his cell."

Brody nodded pulling out her own mobile device, her heart slamming up against her chest as she hit the redial.

/Please answer/

She chewed on her lip as it rang again, and again. Why was it taking him so long to pick up? What if his big crash had finally come and he'd fallen asleep? Worse what if Sebastian's calculations were wrong and he was already struggling for air, choking miserably to a horrible death through suffocation?

On LaSalle's end the phone only rang once. This time he was smart enough to have left it resting on his chest so when the ringtone started to play, he was able to answer it quickly, with just a swipe of his thumb.

"Brody." The sound of his voice brought a calming effect to her frantic heart.

"Don't say anything." She swallowed. "You need to save your oxygen. I'm going to talk to you, but I only want you to answer in single words: yes, no, and short phrases. You got that?"

"Yes."

She would forego telling him exactly how many minutes he had left, though she was sure that he was already well aware. "Pride is talking to Patton. He's trying to track your phone."

"Ok."

Even with the best that technology had to offer, it would still take at least 15 minutes and even then it might only be to the closest cell tower.

"Cade is safe and he knows nothing about what is happening to you, other than you were taken. We had the local PD take him to the therapist that is currently handling his treatment. She has strict orders not to let him come into anything contact that might tip him off that Savannah's father is dead. No social media, no phone, no television."

"Good."

Brody glanced at Pride, her eyes pleading. It had only been a couple of minutes, not enough time for Patton to have come up with a location. Averting her gaze, she went back to Chris.

"So… How are you feeling? Are you good?" Immediately, she realized that was a stupid thing to say. Of course he wasn't good! Even though he wasn't saying anything, the man was literally freaking out. He was locked in a pine coffin, unable to move without hitting something.

"Uh…"

"Let me rephrase that," she recanted quickly. "How's your head?"

"Hurts like hell. Savannah's dad clocked me a good un."

"Too many words," she scolded gently before taking in a breath and exhaling slowly. Her own anxiety was starting to bare down on her, making her feel like her entire world was about to implode. She needed Patton to come up with a location.

"Think about the things you heard and saw before you were put in the box. Is there anything that stands out?" Again she looked at Pride while LaSalle processed his thought.

"Nothing yet," the older agent mouthed.

Brody closed her eyes, moving away as if she were about to engage in a private conversation with her partner.

"Chris?"

"I was in and out for a while, but I thought I heard tappin, maybe hammerinnnn-'. His voice rose an octave, anxiety controlling the pitch of his voice. "Oh shit! No…No….Shit!"

Brody stepped back over to Pride, placing the phone on speaker. "Chris, what's happening?" They could hear their friend as he started thrashing, about in his small, confined, space, panicked noises climbing out of the back of his throat.

"Chris, answer me, please. We need to know what's happening to you!"

LaSalle's voice froze in fear as a string of cockroaches started to crawl through the small hole that had been left behind by the discharge of his service weapon.

Normally, he didn't have a problem with the appearance of the creepy, crawly, insects but that was then they were in close proximity of his shoe and the solid weight of his foot bearing down upon them. Being trapped in a small space in which he could barely move brought an entirely different dynamic to the idea of their impromptu invasion.

Brody and Pride's shouts were oblivious to his ears as he squirmed about desperately trying to escape the small army. There five, no six, he counted hunching to his right as they went left, not that he had much room to move around- he didn't, barely any, but that didn't seem to matter at this particular moment. In seconds they were going to be on him!

/Think, think, think, Damn it!/. The idea of seriously using the gun on himself entered his mind, as they crawled across the top of his coffin and started down the left side. Using the light from the phone to track their movement, Chris waited until they were in a good position, made fist and repeatedly, squashed the little bastards, until they were nothing but green and yellow, splatter against the side of the pine structure that was holding him captive.

His erratic breathing and wild heartbeat continued long after the roaches were gone. It took him a good 3-4 minutes before rational comprehension returned, allowing him to hear the urgent pleas of his friends. He flung his hand forward, shaking it, before rubbing it against the side of the wood to remove the remains of the roaches from his skin as he spoke.

"I'm good; but in case you're wondering, I'm not alone in here."

"What?" Brody's large eyes widened, looking at Pride. He wasn't alone? What the hell?"

"Got roaches coming in from the bullet hole."

"What bullet hole?" Now it was Brody turn to sound frantic.

"The one I put in the top of this casket."

"Wait a minute. You have a GUN?" Why would Peter Kelly have allowed Chris to keep his gun?

"Yeah," LaSalle went quiet for a moment before letting out a sigh of defeat. "I think Peter left it for me, in case I decided ta-"

Pride touched Brody's shoulder, dipping his head before looking back up heavenward and offering up a small silent prayer. "It's not going to come to that Christopher. We're going to get you out there. Ya hear me?"

I hear ya, King but could ya make it sooner than later? I'm becomin' uh little claustrophobic." Truth was it was getting a little warm in his snug surroundings. A warm environment meant that he was beginning to run out of air.

"Chris, you need to try to stay calm," Brody said taking the phone back from Pride. Who knew how much oxygen he had used up over his so called panic attack over the roaches? "How's the bite mark in your side?" she asked, trying not focus on the horror of the situation.

"Infected, I think." He yawned before becoming quite again.

"Are you tired, Chris?" Brody asked thinking that if he could somehow managed to fall asleep, it might stabilize his breathing and conserve precious oxygen, buying them more time.

"Bored," he answered not really wanting to tell her he was scared shitless.

"That big crash, you've been avoiding. Why don't you let it hit you." She said, her heart twisting in her chest as she thought of what seemed to be the inevitable ending to this sick scenario. "Let it hit you full force, and then when you wake up you can tell me how you concurred the big bad roaches."

LaSalle laughed bitterly. Even if he wanted to sleep he couldn't. His adrenaline level was through the roof. The big crash, which Brody was referring to would have to wait until this was over or he was dead, whichever came first.

"I can't," he said lowly as the ground around him began to rumble igniting his senses. He looked up as dirt started to seep in from the bullet hole, Fuck! He should have known, the roaches weren't coming in for the hell of it, they were coming in for a reason.

He tried not to panic, as the rumbling turned into a shaking, a tremor of sorts. An Earthquake? Small Earthquakes were fairly common in the Tuscaloosa region of Alabama. They'd had thirty nine, just this year, where as they were less frequent in Mobile, but they did happen.

Raising his hand, he touched the top of the box. It was definitely shaking. An Earthquake, wonderful. If they were anything like the ones he remembered as kid, then the ground would rumble for a bit, (usually less than a minute) and it would stop, leaving an ominous wake of fear behind, maybe a little damage here and there but more than likely not. They'd never had a big one in Mobile so to speak and he prayed that this would not be the first.

"Brody is the ground shaking where you are?" he asked as one of the planks above his head started to give and crack. "Brody? Brody!" Before his partner could answer, the weakened board slipped forcing him to put his hands up to avoid being hit on the head. The box was caving in. THE BOX WAS CAVING IN!

Help!

King!

Brody!

ANYBODY!

A/N: Yikes! Our poor Bama Boy just can't catch a break!