A/N: I apologize for taking my sweet time in posting, but I'm still trying to iron out a few kinks. I will keep at this story though, and refuse to give up on it, so don't worry about that, and please be patient.
Ch. 5
Sheldon wasn't going to give awkward silences a chance. A gun and a potential dooms-day phone call kept the situation in Ron's field, but since Hawks was the commodity here, the former mortician had at least that small mote of control going for him. Asking questions – the right questions, the kind that don't annoy – stepped the mote up. As for what the right questions were; anything that would placate to the man's confident (Sheldon hoped more overly confident) ego.
Sheldon waited until he pulled the truck away from the curb and was two blocks from Danny's place. He gave himself three minutes to get his head on straight before saying anything. Images of dismissed paramedics and Danny convulsing as his lungs tried to eject themselves from his body he couldn't dismiss from his mind, only push them to the back where they didn't make him as nauseas. Haunting presences now, and scaring the crap out of him just as effectively. Murphy's Law was having a party with the CSIs. The ironically impeccable timing of Ron and his men had Sheldon partially tuned to the future sounds of a tire going flat, or the chime of the service engine soon light. Or, better yet, showing up at the crime scene complete with Mac and several uniforms. Slow progress allowing the crap in Danny's lungs to accumulate until he suffocated, situation deteriorating to Ron pressing the send button that would end Lindsey's life – Sheldon had never felt so terrified, so utterly helpless, in his life.
Didn't mean he was panicked stupid, though. As long as he cooperated, and they made it back in time...
But that damned Murphy's Law. Sheldon knew it was just waiting around the bend with the next nasty surprise.
" What is it I'm supposed to be looking for?" Sheldon asked, his three minutes up.
Ron was rummaging through the briefcase Sheldon had taken from the crime scene. " In that dump? Ever play that game where someone sticks and object in a room that's out of place, and you have to find it? Right in front of your eyes and you don't even see it. Think of it that way." Papers rustled, and Ron pulled a few files and folders out to flip through them, only to stuff them back in without consideration for neat and orderly. He mutilated the evidence without leaving a single print thanks to the gloves he'd 'borrowed' from Sheldon's kit.
The man liked mind gamesthe tactic used by those being deliberate jerks – not as further control of the situation, but to shove already existing control into their victim's faces. Sheldon's fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel.
" I'm going to need a little more than that."
Ron dropped the suitcase next to his seat. " No you won't. I know how the CSI operates, Mr. Hawkes. That crime scene will be devoid of living bodies by the time we arrive, in turn providing me the freedom to assist you."
Sheldon gripped harder. " Then why bring me? Why not slip in yourself? Why bring my friends into this?"
" Collateral. I need you in case someone decides to drop by. You know how people are. Drop a wallet, leave a purse, forgot this, remembered that. Can't be too careful. Oh, then there's the chance it might not even be there, not if your pals at the crime lab found it first. In which case, Mr. Hawkes, you're like air – as in an extremely important necessity. Because I am not going anywhere until I get back what that SOB stole from me."
Sheldon darted his eyes in Ron's direction. " What 'SOB' exactly? The vic?"
Ron smirked, doing one of those silent chuckles that had his head jerking. " Yeah, Hawkes, your vic. Guy named Jack. And don't look so alarmed by the confession, Hawkes. I'll give you the man's whole name and phone number, doesn't mean there'll be a trail of bread crumbs to follow back to me. I know how to cover my ass, Mr. Hawkes. The only proof of my involvement with this case of your's is in my head. Not even any GSR for you to swab."
Ron rolled his head lazily in Sheldon's direction, still smirking in a way that made Sheldon want to slam the breaks and let the dashboard wipe it off.
" Like I said," Ron went on, " I know how to cover my ass. I'm like a ghost, you know? Disappearing in the daylight. And that's all I'll ever be to you and your crime boys, even with me sitting here, in the flesh, confessing my guts out. Ain't that just a bitch?" He chuckled, audibly this time.
Sheldon didn't say anything. Control was a game now, and a response would be what earned Ron the points. So there was no choice but to let the awkward silence return, this time simmering with anger radiating from Sheldon.
" So," Ron said after a time. " What's up with that skinny white boy? Kockin' on death's door or just the flu?"
Sheldon swallowed back a lump of burning bile, but kept his mouth firmly clamped. Ron thumped him on the arm with the gun.
" Come on, fill me in. Can't be all that simple what with you calling an ambulance and all. The kid could be the poster boy for the plague. I mean, seriously, I've never seen anyone lookin' that messed up when sick. No point in even calling an ambulance, 'cause that kid is screwed..."
" Shut up," Sheldon growled. " Just do me a favor, and shut the hell up, all right? We go in, get your... whatever... Then you go back to your men, get them out of that apartment, and leave us the hell alone. And I swear, if anything happens to Danny and Lindsey, I will hunt you down and dissect you – Alive.
Chuckling morphed into a full on laugh that had Ron thumping his knee with the cell phone. " Dang, Hawkes, you never struck me as the type as having a mean streak. But what happens to your friends is up to you. Play nice, my boys play nice, and we all get off scott free to go our merry separate way. Then you can call the paramedics and get your buddy's lungs drained until they shrivel up. No need for bloodshed or unnecessary violence, just a simple transaction. Shouldn't be too bad."
Sheldon inwardly cringe. He wasn't really superstitious guy, but there was no denying life's sadistic enjoyment of proving such phrases wrong.
Murphy's Law was laughing at him while loading it's guns.
NY
Danny had stopped shivering, Lindsey just couldn't decide if that was a good thing or reason to let the worry increase. His rasping, wheezing breaths, shallow inhalations, and rattling coughs had Lindsey's own lungs feeling two sizes too small out of sympathy. Sometimes, after a good chest-deep bout of hacking, Danny would suck in a hissing breath of pain with arms tightening around an agonizingly sore ribcage, curl into himself, and curse. When the pain abated, his body would relax, and his breath would be released on a sigh.
He had managed, some time ago, to move his head to be tilted back against the bed, insisting that it helped with the breathing since all weight wasn't focused on his chest.
Lindsey had her focus split between Danny and the short intruder hovering outside the door, watching Danny and Lindsey in turn. Sounds drifted down the hall, low and constant murmurings of conversation that Lindsey barely caught snatches of.
" Th-They..." Danny rasped. Lindsey's head snapped around to look at him.
" What?" Lindsey said, leaning in closer.
" They watchin' my TV?"
If pity wasn't so dominant, she would have smacked him across the shoulder. Instead, she reared her head back.
" Three armed men in your home holding us hostage and you're worried they're watching your TV? Please tell me you're delirious."
Danny's head rolled in her direction, bleary eyes blinking slowly. " Not worried. Pissed. Didn't invite'em. Don't like the idea... of them touchin'... my stuff." He took a breath before speaking again. " You'd be pissed too."
He had a point, an odd point but a valid point. As a kid, Lindsey had hated it when people walked into her room and messed with her stuff uninvited. Home invaders – same difference except multiplied by ten. For Danny, it was probably more like multiplied by thirty with him being invalid and unable to do anything about it. He had every right to be pissed, even if it came down to being something as trivial as one of the thugs tossing a used tissue and missing the trash.
" They better not eat anything. They touch the Milk Duds, I'll kill'em. Those are for Louie. Yeah, I know, he can't eat 'em. But, when he wakes up, he'll like seein' 'em there, you know? Don't know why he likes 'em. They aren't all that great, not like a Snickers or Twix or somethin', but he can never get enough of 'em. We go to a movie, he's always gotta have enough for Milk Duds. Always Milk Duds, never popcorn. He eats 'em with Pepsi, even though Pepsi and chocolate suck together." Danny chuckled softly. " Louie's weird like that. Likes weird stuff, like peanut butter and banana sandwiches. But even I gotta admit those are pretty good..."
Danny suddenly lurched forward to double up in a cough that sounded as though it were ripping his insides apart. Tensing, panicking, Lindsey began patting his back hard.
" Come on, Danny, get it out. It's all right, you're all right..."
Between coughs, he barely sucked in any air. Just kept coughing until Lindsey was sure his lungs had shriveled to nothing. Her heart hammered, her own breath stilled, then Danny inhaled a ripping breath that reminded Lindsey to breathe herself. Danny stayed doubled up with head bowed, arms tight around his chest, and a broken whimper escaping his throat. Lindsey went from patting to rubbing, and could feel the twitching, shuddering muscle spasms in his back.
" Your ribs?" she asked.
Danny could only nod, pulling in air.
Lindsey lifted her eyes straight to the nightstand littered with tissues and pain reliever bottles.
" Think could manage keeping a pill down?"
Danny lifted his head to let it drop back against the bed. " I can't keep food down, and you aren't supposed to take pills without somethin' in your stomach."
Lindsey moved onto her knees to crawl over to the nightstand. " Not all the time. One pill shouldn't hurt."
" Hey!"
She wasn't even moving yet, only on her hands and knees, when shorty entered, aiming his gun at Lindsey.
" What're you doing?" His tone was sharp, threatening, but wavered with trepidation.
Lindsey lifted an unsteady hand to point at the night stand. " Just... going over there, getting one of those bottles. My friend's sick, remember? He needs those."
Shorty looked from the table to Lindsey, then waved his gun. " Sit back down, I'll get 'em."
Lindsey dropped herself back against the bed, watching shorty grab all three bottles in one hand then tossing them to Lindsey. She set them beside her with the water pitcher and glass.
" Anything else?" he snapped.
Lindsey shrugged. " Wet washcloth. No, wait, a wet one and a dry one."
Shorty jerked his head in a small nod and hurried into the bathroom. Lindsey heard the sound of a cupboard opening, then running water. Not even a minute had passed when shorty returned and tossed both cloths to Lindsey.
" Thanks," she said, giving shorty a wan smile that she didn't let reach her eyes. Shorty didn't say anything, she returned to hovering within sight of the hallway with back leaning against the wall.
Lindsey folded the damp cloth and placed it on the back of Danny's neck. She poured water, popped open a bottle of ibuprofen, and with one hand helped Danny raise his head to take both pill and a sip of water. When done, she lowered his head back onto the bed, and proceeded to mop his wet face with the dry cloth.
" You really need to drink more water," she said. She set the cloth down to help lift his head for another sip. " So, if you don't mind my asking, what's up with you and ambulances anyways? You don't have to answer if it's personal."
Danny struggled to lift his head on his own volition, only to have it roll from Lindsey's hand to drop back onto the bed. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke his voice sounded clearer.
" You ever ride in an ambulance before? 'Cause you had to - not on some ride along or somethin' like that?"
Lindsey nodded. " Couple of times. First time when I injured my back falling off a horse."
Danny lips curved in a small smile. " Bet you got back on as soon as you could."
Lindsey grimaced. " Sooner, actually, before I was supposed to, but it didn't make things worse. Now stop changing the subject. What did you mean when you said they stripped you?"
Danny's smile faded. " I'm guessin' that never happened to you?"
" No."
Danny coughed lightly. " Did to me. Me and my dad get the crap beat out of us after we take a ride in this gypsy cab. It was pretty bad for me. They had to take off my shirt and pants to get to the worst of it, and I was kind of left like that for a lot longer than I should have been. I was freezin', my glasses were gone so I couldn't see a damn thing, all these strangers around me, touchin', tellin' me it won't hurt when it damn well does... Being touched after having the snot pounded out of me was bad enough, being pretty much in my birthday suit sucked to hell. And I was never the touchy/feely type to begin with. So after gypsy cabs, ambulances and I aren't all that tight." Then he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. " Course, I'd take an ambulance over a gypsy cab any day."
Lindsey grimaced and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. " Wow. After going through that, I'd hate ambulances too."
" I lived. But I'm still not happy about it. I was a freakin' kid, you'd think they'd have a little more consideration... I don't know, maybe they were major busy or somethin'. All I remember was being without clothes, hurting, and scared to hell."
Danny was interrupted by more coughing. It wasn't another thrashing, lung-shredding bout, which Lindsey hoped was promising. But careful observation and logic didn't give her the luxury of holding to hope. This fit was longer and halfhearted - because Danny was just too exhausted from the last vicious round of coughs to put much effort into these. He just closed his eyes and rode it out with chest jerking then expanding like an inflating balloon, deflating spasmodically for more coughing.
All Lindsey could do was wipe his face and have water ready.
Frantic, rapid pounding thumped on Danny's front door that had Lindsey snapping her head around. Shorty in the hall went rigid, and the two in the living room flanked the door with arms loose at their sides. One looked at the other. The other, the tall guy, nodded once and headed with long strides to Danny's room, shorty following.
Shorty closed the door – not all the way, leaving an inch of space between door and frame.
The tall one – the creep – knelt in front of Danny, regarding him dead-pan and dangerously. His eyes flickered to Lindsey.
" Better keep it down, man," he said.
Danny cracked one eye open, regarded the man in return, and apparently got the message when he futilely clamped his jaw shut to stifle the sound of the coughs. His chest kept jerking, and silence could have been absolute except when Danny inhaled with air rasping loud into his throat. The next cough he couldn't stifle.
Lindsey's heart was speed beating uncomfortably. She licked suddenly dry lips, looking from creep to Danny.
Danny grimaced. " I'm... trying..." he wheezed.
Creep nodded with false understanding, pursing his lips into a straight line. He reached out with one hand to cover Danny's mouth, then with the other to wrap his fingers loosely around Danny's neck to hold his head in place. Cold, electric fear jolted through Lindsey's body from spine to fingertips. Danny lifted his hands, except seemed uncertain whether to pull at the hand on his mouth or at his throat, so kept them hovering, fingers curled and twitching with each cough.
Through the door, conversation carried. Lindsey heard talk of emergency, a 911 call, and it being a mistake. Lindsey's heart took a nose dive at hearing that last part, and didn't attempt to hear the rest.
" Please," Lindsey whispered. " Don't do this. He needs to be in a hospital. He can barely breathe, please..."
Either creep didn't care or wasn't listening. The latter was the most probable reason – in fact he seemed to be enjoying the moment with a smile tugging at his lips - and Lindsey's eyes burned with a cocktail of tears forming from fear, sorrow, and rage. Lindsey could have screamed, got the paramedics' attention – but then bam bam bam they'd all be dead. Either that or two more would be added to the collection of hostages. Whatever the outcome, Lindsey wasn't going to risk it, not if there was a better plan somewhere in the future allowing everyone to get out of this alive. She just prayed Danny lasted that long.
Lindsey heard intruder number three say a polite farewell, and the creak of a door being shut. Yet Creep kept his hands in the same position, and Lindsey could have sworn his fingers were starting to tighten around Danny's neck.
" Stop it," she growled in a quavering, choked voice. " They're gone, so let him go."
Shorty thumped creep on the shoulder. " She's right man, ease up. We need the guy. Boss ain't gonna like this..."
The bedroom door creaked open, and intruder three paused before entering. " What're you doing?"
Creep snatched his hands from Danny and stood, backing away. " Just helpin' the man tone the noise down." He wiped both hands on the sides of his jeans. " Need to go wash up," and he headed out. Tan coat followed, but shorty lingered, shifting nervously while staring at Danny as though the CSI were a corpse he was forced to be in the same room with.
The adrenaline of fear and anger dissipating from Lindsey's system left her shaking uncontrollably. On the other hand, she'd managed to siphon enough control to keep the tears from falling, and maintain the facade of complete self-control. She focused her remaining anger to glare at shorty.
" He needed that ambulance," she practically snarled. Shorty shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and averted his gaze to the floor.
" I – I know. B-but it shouldn't be long. Boss'll be back soon..." Shorty's manner, voice, and unease gradually revealed to Lindsey a guy much younger than she had first assumed. Possibly a kid in over his head, or someone too green to know how he needed to act. The kid's compliance to help and his discomfort around a sick Danny screamed advantage. Maybe not to get him to be a part of some escape plan – that would have been pushing it – but more along the lines of a sympathetic voice and helping hand in keeping Danny alive.
Above that, a go between to keep creep from doing something to Danny.
Danny was still coughing as though momentum was keeping it going. Lindsey gently applied pressure to the side of his head to get it to turn and him to face her. His eyes were slitted and unfocused, twitching as the lids fought to stay open. Lindsey brushed his sweat-soaked hair back, making it spike up.
" It's all right if you sleep, Danny," Lindsey said. " Maybe when you wake up, you'll be in a hospital... without being stripped," she added with a grin.
" Maybe..." Danny wheezed, " you'll be dead."
Lindsey shook her head. " Danny, you're not going to miss anything taking a small nap. Besides, you don't have a choice. You can barely keep your eyes open. Just sleep, for a little while. If something happens or starts to happen, I'll wake you up."
Danny snorted out a caustic laugh. " Yeah... right. Doubt you'll have time."
Lindsey rolled her eyes. " Just go to sleep. It'll be all right. Hawkes will be back soon. You need the rest. I'll be all right. I mean I'm all right so far seeing as how all the crap keeps happening to you."
Danny smiled at that. " That's harsh, Montana."
" Yeah, well, the truth usually is. But don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you." She meant it to be humorous, but her voice didn't convey it. If anything, it came out sounding more like a promise, which Lindsey would hold to.
Danny, finally coaxed by her words, let his eyelids drop. The coughing became sporadic, making his body twitch, and though his breaths were shallow they were also steady.
" He really doesn't look good," the kid said from his post in the hall. Lindsey smiled tightly at him.
" You think?"
TBC...