Hey hey, so this is kinda long chapter. It has a lot of only-Russell and maybe a little too much OOC for Greg, but this was so hard to write that I don't know if you like it or hate it. please, I know you're about to skip this chapter and wait for chapter 6, but I beg you to read it because I put a lot of time in it and I would love to know what you think. I suck at emotional or exciting parts so I apologize. At first I thought I knew how I would continue this, and I wrote it already. But it is crap, it doesn't fit in the story, so I'm gonna write something totally different and I hope that will work. So sorry if the next chapter is going to be delayed; all I want is a good next chapter.
R & R please, I want to know more than ever what you think!
They were both tensed, everything could went wrong. All they could do was pray for the good things to happen. Deep inside, Russell was afraid. Not for the plan to fail, but for Greg. If Russell would leave, there was no one who could protect him. Perhaps Russell would not be back with help before the man would've returned. Man? Actually, Russell would call him 'the boy' or 'the young man'. The one who did this to them, the one who hurt them so much, wasn't an old man. Young, probably younger than Greg, or maybe a year older. Brown, short hair, a big nose, coarse eyebrows and a small mouth. They had tried to ask him questions, but there was nothing the man would say to them. All the things they heard from him were orders, screams or curses. He had this little accent but because he didn't speak much, they couldn't make out either it was Spanish, Italian or Mexican.
Russell begged God to make this plan work. It was a genius, but dangerous plan. There was danger in everything he did, even after he had got out of the car safely. Maybe he would be in a strange place with strange people and in this state of being there wouldn't be much people who would like to have him use their phone, he looked like a zombie. But he couldn't be worrying about that; first, he had to focus on getting in and out of that jeep.
X
It was time. Greg was being dragged out of the building and with pain in his heart the elder man saw how the young ex-lab tech was being kicked on the sand and how Greg had to struggle to get up. The handcuffs around his hands, the whip in the hand of the young man, they made Russell think of a movie with too much violence. A bang in the air was followed by a loud, heart-breaking scream from Greg. Another crack. Greg screamed again and then Russell began to run. Run? More like hobble, but he knew he couldn't let Greg go and he had to run. He tried to ignore the loud screams from Greg and then there was the fear again. What if… what if they returned and… and Greg wasn't alive anymore? He reached the corner of the barn and leaned back against the wall. There he stood for a minute, panting and his hand at the place of his heart. The sun was burning heavily on his pale face. His white hair was dirty and looked darker. The sound of the yelling young man and Greg who breathed back 'who… 're you talkin' about?' made him decide to move on quickly. The sand underfoot was hot and crept in his shoes. He shuddered while he carefully jumped into the back of the jeep. What if Greg died? While Russell was covering himself with dirty old canvasses and other stuff, he realised that the chance of Greg surviving wasn't big. They hadn't drank for a few days, despite of the very little they got from the young man, who had gave them some just so they stopped coughing. But that had been just a little sip. And you are really very desperate for water when you're in the desert. Together with that, Greg was wounded. Deadly. His back was ripped open and Russell had seen the old scars before Greg got tortured. But the wounds of the whip weren't healed and he was now hit again. The dark, dried blood mingled with the fresh streaming blood every time he returned. Russell didn't understand why he himself wasn't being tortured, he had tried to ask, ask the man to forgive Greg and take him instead, but the man hadn't answered of course. Russell just didn't understood why only Greg. This would be the fifth time Greg was beaten by the whip, but why? Even that was a question. He had tried to hear what the man was yelling at Greg. He thought he heard things like: 'Say that he wasn't good!' 'Tell me he was a horrible man!' 'Say that you hated him!' He had the idea Greg didn't know where he was talking about either, but he didn't want to show he could here the sounds from outside. Russell looked if all his limbs were covered, then he closed his eyes and waited. He tried to ignore the sobs of Greg. Then he sighed again, bit his lip and was alone with his thoughts.
He opened his eyes when he felt that the ground under him was moving. The car, the car was driving! The jeep left. Good lord, Greg was a hero. He was so smart. The man hadn't noticed that one of his hostages was lying in his jeep. When Russell had been in that barn, he hadn't even had the power to think about escaping, it just didn't pop up in his mind. But Greg… he had founded it when he was being slapped and tortured, something which surprised Russell. He could feel the wind and he had thought it would be warm, but it was fresh and cold. Had they been driving so long that they weren't in the desert anymore? Russell lifted the canvas and took a look, very carefully. It was dark. That was why! It was night and it was cold. But Russell didn't care. He loved the wind and the cold air. It was perfect for his burnt skin. He just closed his eyes and relaxed. Then he softly prayed for his buddy to be okay, but all he could do was wait and think. He tried to put in a row everything he had to do.
1.Lay down and be quiet.
2.When the Jeep stops, wait until you're entirely sure that the young man's gone.
3.Get out of the car quickly.
4.Get the license plate in your mind.
5.Find a police office.
6.Explain and call LVPD.
7.Save Greg.
The last one was the most important, but for that one, the other steps had to go well. He hoped he would manage to succeed until step 4, because after that, it wasn't hard anymore. Hopefully.
X
Greg felt the needle in his arm. He mumbled 'he didn't need it' and that 'he didn't want to have it', but the man didn't listen of course. Greg felt how the drugs mingled with his blood. The pain reduced, but he began to feel nauseous. He just tried to take deep breaths. Russell would be with this man in a few minutes, all he could do was wait. He felt tired, maybe because of the drugs, maybe just because he was exhausted. So he closed his eyes, tried to breathe normally and closed his burning eyes.
X
Did the car stop? Had the jeep really stopped? Yeah, there was no wind and no sounds of driving, the ground didn't move anymore. He heard the sound of the car door opening, the slamming sound of it closing and then footsteps. He waited ten seconds before he finally moved. Russell knew that he couldn't wait too long because the young man could return. He was stiff, his whole body ached because of the fact he had lied on a hard jeep floor for a few hours. How long had it been? He didn't know. It was still dark when he tried to get up. This was hard, but he pushed himself to do so. He climbed over the edge and fell down on the floor. His face smashed onto the gravel and he immediately felt grazes. A moan escaped from his mouth. Good it was dark, it would be really weird to see a man falling out of a jeep, covered in dirt, sand, ripped parts of things that had to be clothes and blood. He got up and stumbled to the back of the car. Because he had been sitting in a dark building for a day or even more, his eyes knew how to get used to the dark. He tried to figure out what the license plate said.
67-5053, from South Dakota. He repeated it a few times in his mind. 67, 50, 53… 67, 50, 53… He was thirsty and tensed. Think... 67, 50, 53… his lips formed the words soundlessly. Again and again. He wouldn't … so what now? He pressed his eyes shut, ignored the wounds on his face and thought about the list he had made in his head. So now he should find a police office, an open police office. Where was he? Vegas? Not Vegas, this was more like a small quiet village. He took a deep breath and started to walk. With every step, he felt his feet more and he was glad it was dark, he would look like a criminal. His shoes were filled with sand and sweat. A very uncomfortable feeling. Russell hold onto a wall with his one hand, and with the other he pulled out his shoe and then his sock. This was repeated with the other foot. When his feet touched the cold ground, he sighed in relief. Even though his whole body ached and his legs were about to break off, he loved every second his feet were touching the cold stone.
For maybe more than ten minutes he wandered around and looked at every building. He had never been a scared person, but now he felt the fear getting him at once. What if the man was following him? He turned his head and stared in the dark for a while. No. But what if he was already driving back? What would the man be doing here at night, actually? Of course, his house should be here. He couldn't be living in the desert: only the shed where he and Greg were put in wasn't enough.
And then he saw it. A police office. With lights inside. He closed his eyes and let his breath go. There it was! Perfect. Now he wasn't afraid anymore, all his troubles were over for a moment. He knew how police officers think and act, how he had to talk to them to make them listen. He quickly walked to the building and pushed open the door.
There was one man sitting behind a desk. A calm, trustable man to look at. He was tall, muscled and had a little beard. He had short hair and his eyes were friendly. The man looked at Russell and for one moment there was a small glimpse of surprise on his face. Then he stood up and walked to Russell.
'I…' DB whispered, 'water…' Within a minute, there was a glass of water in front of him on a little table. With two swallows, it was gone. He breathed in a few times and tried to calm down.
'I… I'm DB Russell, head of the Las Vegas Crime Department… I need to call my people, I-I've been abducted… my friend, he's still there. I need my people.' He looked at the man who was trying to understand what Russell was saying. The elder man repeated it a few times.
'Okay, I'm going to take care of that. But promise me you'll explain everything. I'm police officer and if I can help, I will. This sounds like something I can help with.'
'I need to call first. Oh, and I need to write down something. Quickly please.'
Perhaps he didn't understand what was going on, but the cop just did everything Russell asked. 67-50-53-South Dakota… Weird to see that his handwriting was still the same. Russell thanked the policeman for everything when he finally had a phone in his trembling hands. The number. After a moment of thinking he remembered.
Tension whistled through his body as he listened to the beeps. Please, he thought with a furious heart and painful stomach, take it… Finally, he heard a little noise and then…
'Stokes.'
'Nick… Nick it's me, Russell.' He breathed.
'WHAT?!' he heard a bang, Nick had dropped something, probably everything he was holding. There had been confusion, relief and choke all in that one word, 'Russell what? What happened, where are you, are you okay? Is Greg okay? Who took you? Where did they took you? Are you safe? Should we…'
'Nick calm down, I'm okay, just some scratches and exhausted… a young man… he got us to the desert… I'm at...' he looked at the cop. 'where am I?'
'Kingman.' The officer said helpfully. He had probably heard Nicks' voice as well because Nick wasn't really whispering.
'Nick, I'm in Kingman. You should come here as soon as possible, I need your help.'
'How's Greg?' There was fear in Nick's voice.
'He… He's still in the desert. He was, too weak to…' How could he even say this? 'He was too weak to come with me, he insisted that I left. We have to get him before… before it's too late. The torturing is going to be too much.'
'T-t-torturing?' There was no rage in his voice. All Russell heard was fear in Nick's suddenly small, soft way of speaking. The word 'torturing' had hit him too hard.
'Just come here, Nick, we have to save Greg…'
X
'David!' A scream from Morgan as she grabbed the edge of the table. 'David… it's… Get help…' Hodges rushed to her and gently took her shoulders.
'Morgan are you sure?' Morgan nodded. 'Okay I'm gonna get you to the hospital. I ask Superdave to use his Denali and to help me because he knows how this works and he will…' He stopped his own rambling when Morgan gasped and quickly grabbed his phone.
'I'm not gonna leave you here on your own. Please hold on I'm trying to stay calm myself and you should do too, just breath...'
'Hodges… I'm…' Morgan whispered, she was crying. Her hands were around her stomach. 'I'm so afraid, so… afraid… I need… G-Greg…'
He nodded. 'I understand, just please calm down and take good breaths.'
'David speaking,' David Philips said through the phone.
'Superdave please come here Morgan is having contractions.'
'On my way, give me one.'
'He's here in a minute.' Hodges said to Morgan who was crying even more. 'You'll get through this, sweetheart. Morgan, you're strong.'
'Him... Greg… all I need his him… All of him-'
'It's gonna be okay, just think of him, it's all you can do! Think of what he would say, what he would do.' Hodges stroked her arm as he was impatient for Doc's assistent to be there soon.
'Morgan, Hodges, I'm gonna get… Morgan, what...?' Nick ran in, breathing heavily.
'It's…' no more words were said, Nick understood.
'Hodges, stay with her, Russell just called. I didn't understand it at all but he said Greg's still in danger!'
Morgan just gasped at the sound of her boyfriend's name. 'He's… he's alive?'
'Yes but we gotta hurry, Hodges are you gonna manage?' The look in Nick's eyes showed that he didn't trust Hodges.
'I'm here.' David Philips came running into the room when Morgan gave another yelp and grabbed her stomach again. She fell down against David who took her face in his hands and looked at her carefully.
'Great, Superdave! Morgan, you're gonna be fine now, I'm off.' He gave a quick kiss on Morgan's head and stroked her cheek before he ran away. He hoped that they were going to be okay, why was this just happening right now? Just when they were gonna find Greg… Hopefully… He shuddered when he jumped into the car. Don't think about it Stokes. He told himself; but all he imagined was Greg's limp body, dead and bruised. Sara jumped next to him, Brass and Finn in the backseat. All carrying guns and their vests. Other cops would be following as backup.
X
Alone. Alone in a desert, just lying there in pain. The drugs had stopped working, so the pain got worse. How long had he been here? He had slept, he didn't know. There was darkness all around him, it was even a bit chilly. That was good, it was night, but he was still in pain a lot. He tried to sleep, because he couldn't move anyways. Suddenly he heard a car arive. A jeep.
He was afraid, within a few minutes, the man would know Russell would be gone and he would blame Greg. He was right, suddenly he was dragged out. Wind, finally some cold air. His mouth opened in an attend to feel the cold air in his lungs.
'WHERE IS THE OTHER ONE?'
'I… I don't… k-k-know…' he stumbled and choked. A kick in his stomach. 'Hngg… gghgh…'
'Tell me or I'll kill you, I'm telling you!' The fear rose in his aching body.
'N…no I… he was-… gonna, g'nna s'cape, but he… I was too weak, he… w'lked nto the des-ert…'
'He will never make it.' The man said, more to himself then to Greg. 'He doesn't have any water and he is way too far away…' He took a few breaths. 'And what about you then? You gonna die here then?'
'If… if you… w-won't… l-l-lemme go…' The man grinned humourlessly.
'I won't, but one try to escape and you're dead!' he grabbed Greg at his ripped shirt and dragged him to the shed again. Greg was put on the floor which made him choke. He felt that his skin at his arm was pinched. The drugs.
'No ...' he growled softly, but he could not resist anymore, he wanted to, but he just couldn't. He felt so weak and miserable, though he wanted to be strong and sturdy. The drugs made his arms feel heavy and useless. He felt dizzy again, tired as well, so he closed his eyes again for like the hundredth time. This wasn't what he wanted, but there was nothing else his body responded to. Even if he wanted to lift his hand he wouldn't be able to.
X
'DB!'
'God bless you Nick Stokes!' after all that time, he finally felt strong, friendly arms around him. He hugged the younger man and patted him on the shoulder. Nick pressed him in his grip and hold onto the elder man's shirt on his back. New clothes had been given to him by the police officer whose name was Bryan.
'I have no time to explain everything, I know the license plate we have to find. I don't know if he already left this place or if he returned to the desert already.' He gave them the note.
'Call Henry to trace it.' Nick said to Finn who had jumped out of the car. Nobody said a word while she talked with Henry.
'Okay so this car belongs to Joel Hammond-Vásquez, a twenty-seven-year-old. His Italian dad, Desidero Vásquez,' Finn said, repeating Henry's words, 'was a CSI.' She looked at the others. 'He never worked in here but he did in New York.'
'Greg used to work there.' Nick said worriedly and gave a glance at Russell. 'An internship or something,' he put his hand on DB's shoulder, 'I still can't believe you're back, Russell. Now it's time for Greg.' Russell nodded. Six steps were made. Step seven had to succeed.
Reviews please, they are my life. My air. My ice-cream on a hot day. *Puppy eyes* (:
