Chapter 19 – Rescue Me?
Before I begin the usual disclaimers and thanks, I would like to make a statement.
When I first discovered this website and began writing again, for the first time in about 17 years, I was delighted to have found an outlet for my imagination and creativity. I was overwhelmed with the positive response to my ramblings and even more grateful to have made some wonderful friends through the site, who have encouraged me, allowed me to run ideas and scenes past them and I have had some wonderful critical reviews of my work. I have enjoyed giving feedback and have been honored to preview some scenes of friends' work not to mention had the privilege of being asked my opinion and seen some of my weirder ideas actually come into stories. To say this is humbling is barely scratching the surface. I would like to thank each and every one of my fans and reviewers for all their support.
However, I have been aware that there are people on this site who have taken it upon themselves to manage a campaign of hatred against those people whose work they don't like. Aside from the fact this shows just how narrow-minded and immature they are about the world (if you can't see that others have the right to think, believe - and write - their own vision of things), it also demonstrates just how jealous they are of genuine talent. I have been infuriated by the distress this has caused my dear, dear friends, to the point where they have questioned continuing their stories and that is just plain wrong. I have made many A/Ns on this subject and posted my feelings at the top of my profile.
What has really made my blood boil in the last 24 hours, however, is that it had been brought to my attention that apparently I have been saying some rather questionable and nasty things about my best friend. This is completely untrue, as those who have been doing this know full and fine well. I have been on the receiving end of this kind of behavior in the past and it is something I condemn and despise. I would like the message to get through to these people that this is, in fact,libelous and as such, should I be in the same country as you, I would be within my rights to bring a civil case to the courts for restitution. As it is, I know what I have said to people and so do my friends. But if I am ever given the information as to who is spreading these malicious and false rumors I will not hesitate to demand action from this website's administrators against you.
I hope that clears things up and clarifies my position.
Usual disclaimers about who owns what (i.e. everything except the Rhodes family belongs to CBS/Bruckheimer/Alliance Atlantis/the music artists) applies.
And a big, massive, wet-smackered thank you from the bottom of my shallow and narcissistic heart to everyone who voted for me in the CSI:NY 2009 Awards. I am quite sure I am not deserving of the Best New Author award, but I am hugely humbled and overwhelmed that you all thought I was. Thank you again and virtual cookies, chocolate and whatever else your poison might be to you. This one is for you.
And big fat congratulations to my friends (one of who won FIVE awards AND five runner-up positions too!) and to the rest of you who won as well. Very well deserved, so congratulations and a bottle of virtual Moet to you all as well!
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He could hear her screaming his name as he was dragged backwards into the darkness by Rushton. He could also hear the distant shouts of a whole lot of people, some voices familiar, as his rescuers finally managed to gain entry into the warren that stretched under the city's streets for two blocks.
All he had to do was hold on until they got there. He shoved himself and his captor back hard, crashing into the wall, the blow forcing Rushton to let him go. His next move was to show his own head backwards, hard, into Rushton's face, hearing the profanities as he hit his target and the arms that had grabbed him let go of him to check the injury.
Flack had learnt from the best and the hard way, on the streets, how best to get out of someone's grip.
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A slightly nervous-looking Joe Savini, sweating a lot, sat across the table from Detective Jessica Angell and CSI Lindsay Messer, who had been called into work a few days early given the situation with Rebecca and Flack. Both women were not disposed to like the man in front of them, especially when a search of the apartment had turned up a bottle of chloroform and some "souvenirs" from other cold case crime scenes.
CODIS and AFIS had determined that Joe Savini was, in fact, known by several other names as well and had a record as long as Flack's fugly tie collection stretched end to end. From assault and battery to grand larceny, impersonating an officer to a few rape charges that had ended up being dropped, Joe Savini, or Giannetta, or Camorra to name but a few names he had gone by over the years had been one busy, busy boy. However, his most recent name change and the fact that he'd kept his nose clean for several years had meant he'd been one step ahead of the law. Until now.
However, the NYC cold case team – and those of a few other cities besides – were going to be very happy people indeed, given what CODIS had churned out. Joe Savini's DNA had been found all over the crime scenes of unsolved murders of lone women of various ages. For some strange reason (and appalling detective work, thought Jess), no-one had ever managed to put two and two together. Joe Savini had lived either close to or in he buildings of every single case, moving around so quickly that no-one had tracked him down. Jess could not figure out how he had managed to keep slipping under the radar for so long, but guessed it was just one of those things.
Judging from the look of him though, Savini knew the game was up. He knew he was going down. And, given the very long list of crimes across different states, knew full and fine well that his best chance of avoiding the death penalty was to come clean now and serve his time in NYC, rather than say, back in Florida or Texas. Which both had the death penalty.
Savini explained that he'd met Rushton in lock-up in DC one night, when he'd been arrested for being under the influence. It had been before he's started getting his kicks from the women, he explained. Rushton had been busted for some kind of aggravated assault and he'd explained his own charges. He'd told Rushton he was taking off for NYC as soon as he was released in the morning, because the heat was catching up with him. But he also recalled the interesting conversation they'd had about women and how they felt about them.
So when Rushton had showed up at his door not long after Rebecca had moved to the city, he'd been a little surprised to see him, but had enjoyed catching up on all his buddy's news. And passed along some of his own.
Lindsay felt sick as she listened to the overweight man describe how he'd killed five woman in different places, one right in his own apartment building, and gotten away with it. She'd also listened as he'd told her what Rushton had done and how he'd helped the man make his plans to get Rebecca. How he'd given Rushton a spare set of keys to Rebecca's apartment. How he'd let them both into Flack's place.
It was enough to make her want to check out every single building supervisor in a Tri-state area, to make sure they were all as squeaky clean as they said they were. Flack, she thought, was going to be seriously pissed. Right under his nose. The Irish detective was going to be seriously, seriously pissed.
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Rebecca waited anxiously with Stella, sitting on the step of the bus with a blanket around her shoulders. The anguish of not knowing what was going on all too readable on her face. Stella put her arm around the younger woman's shoulders, hugging her.
"He'll be OK," she said, "Flack has gotten out of tougher situations than this. He'll come walking around that corner any minute now. You'll see."
Rebecca turned her worried brown eyes to Stella's jade green ones, seeing the reassurance in them and feeling the queasy, unsettled feeling start to die down slowly. She put her head on the other woman's shoulder and started to think of all the things she was going to say and do to Donald Flack Junior as soon as she got her hands on him. And that thought brought a smile to her face, as she slowly started to believe that he was right – that everything was going to be OK.
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The team had split up to search the maze of rooms under the surface. People had gone in all kinds of directions and now Booth and Danny were making a cellar-by-cellar search of their particular corridor, Mac and Bones taking the next one. In Kevlar, with service weapons drawn, they cleared them one by one, getting to the end of the corridor and feeling no little frustrated at no sign of Flack. Booth suddenly motioned for the two of them to stop and Danny heard the sound of ragged breathing from around the corner. Motioning to Danny to get ready, Booth raised his weapon to a firing position and swiftly moved round the edge of the stone….
…Only to be confronted by a tired looking Don Flack, bloodied head, bruised knuckles, but otherwise unhurt, slumped against the wall, the unconscious and far worse off figure of James Rushton lying motionless beside him, the man's own shirt firmly securing his wrists. Flack looked up and acknowledged the two men with a weary nod of his head. Booth and Danny lowered their weapons. Danny wiped his sweaty palm across his forehead after re-holstering his gun.
"Jeez Flack," he admonished sarcastically, "Way to scare the shit out of the department."
"Thanks," said Flack, "Next time I want to spend the day at the hands of a psychopathic killer with my girlfriend on my day off, I'll let you guys all know in advance, a'right?"
And the three men suddenly broke into hysterical laughter as the tension of the day suddenly released. Booth holstered his own weapon and gestured at Rushton.
"He alright?" the FBI agent asked. Flack glanced quickly at the motionless figure.
"He, err, kept banging into the wall and shit," he said, "And then kept hitting my fist with his face. Damn shame."
Danny snorted. Booth grinned.
"So any objections to the FBI starting the paperwork to get him shipped back to DC for prosecution."
"Not at all," said Flack, "I think it might be better for his health if he was in another state." He pulled himself upright with the assistance of Danny, the shorter man giving him his support despite the glare from the dark-haired cop.
"Now if you don't mind, I think I'd like to go find my girlfriend," he said with a relieved grin on his face. The three men made their way slowly back towards the stairs.
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The information had come across the radio that the two men had been found, but as the men giving the news had not been right there, they were unable to speak as to how they were and a worried Stella and frantic Rebecca were waiting, the latter pacing the alley. Slowly, all the uniforms, Mac and Bones had reappeared, but not the final three. Stella had grabbed Mac into a huge hug, giving away her own fear for him going into the warren beneath them and an amused looking Mac had returned the hug with a few murmurs that he was just fine and everything was just OK. He'd gently stroked the woman's curls, before she had pulled away, a little embarrassed at her behaviour.
And then, all of a sudden, Booth had appeared from around the corner, Flack and Danny beside him, the latter supporting his best friend. That had been it; Rebecca had raced towards him, almost knocking him over as she'd grabbed him in a fierce hug. Flack had grinned (and winced severely as her hug was kind of tight) and kissed the top of her head.
"I'm OK babe," he said, "I'm OK."
Rebecca looked up at him, running her hands over his arms, anywhere she could in an unconscious check to see if he really was OK and then Flack was collared by two EMTs and nearly dragged back to the bus to be given the once over, to his distinct lack of amusement. Rebecca followed him, taking his hand and holding it in a death grip, unwilling to let him go. Flack looked down, amused.
"Am I going to get that back?" he asked, jokingly, nodding to their joined hands. Rebecca tightened her grip.
"Not in this lifetime," she replied, "No bloody way."
Flack grinned softly, leaned towards her and softly kissed her on the lips. Those around them who had heard the exchange chuckled to themselves. Mac cleared his throat.
"We need to get back to the precinct," he finally stated, "To get both your statements once you've been checked over at the hospital."
The look that Flack and Rebecca both gave him told him quite clearly that the two of them were not going anywhere near Trinity, Angel of Mercy, Bellvue or any other emergency department in the city. Mac smiled at them.
"OK, so we'll get Hawkes to check you over at the lab," he said, "Seeing as the two of you have a serious aversion to that idea."
The uniforms headed off in their squad cars, back to serve and protect; the EMTs left in their bus, empty handed and the two black SUVs headed back to the Crime Lab.
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Jess and Lindsay had filled Flack in on the situation with his building supervisor after he'd given them his statement of the day's events. At first incredulous, they'd then seen the fury build on his face and his fingers, barely visible under the bandages on his hand, turn white as he'd gripped the edge of the table. His polite, quiet request to see Joe, the man he had thought so trustworthy, had been denied. Flack felt sick at the thought that the man had also probably killed his gentle neighbor, Mrs Solis, a few months before. The ME's office currently had a motion to exhume her body before one of the judges.
Lindsay had reassured him that someone had arranged clean-up of his apartment and that it would be ready the next day. Once they had finished completely gathering the evidence and photographing the place. She grinned as she told him Sinclair had authorized the department to pay for both him and Rebecca to spend a night or two in a very nice hotel. Flack had smirked knowingly at that and asked how much longer she was going to be with her damn questions in that case.
"My god," exclaimed Angell, "Is that all you ever think about?"
Flack considered this for a moment before replying.
"No," he said, "I also think about hockey. For maybe ten percent of the time."
Angell had shaken her head at that and smacked him upside the head as she'd passed by.
Mac and Stella had interviewed Rebecca. Rebecca had been shaking as she'd described the day's events, coming back to find Flack the way he was, the terror as she'd been incapacitated. She had patiently allowed Hawkes to check her over and give her a clean bill of health.
Now she was in the locker room, taking a hot shower.
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As the hot water beat down on her and she lathered the dirt of the ordeal off of her, she turned her thoughts to one handsome detective and smiled. It was all over she thought, now they could move on. She sighed. She hoped she's meant what he'd said earlier.
The sound of a throat clearing just beyond the shower curtain brought her back into the moment.
"Bec?" said Flack, "That you in there?"
Rebecca grinned.
"Indeed it is, Detective," she said, "You coming in to scrub my back?"
Flack tried to clear his mind of the dirty image that suddenly flooded it.
"Uh Bec," he said, his voice a little shaky, "You'll need to do that yourself. I am not getting into that shower with you."
"Spoilsport!" pouted Rebecca. Flack chuckled.
"Later babe," he said, "We won't be getting out anytime soon if I do and there is no way I want our colleagues to know what we get up to in private. The department is putting us up in a hotel for a couple of nights so we can have some water fun later if you still want to."
Rebecca laughed.
"I'm going to hold you to that Don," she said.
He hoped she was going to hold him to a whole lot more than that, he thought, grinning as he changed into the clean sweats he had in his locker. Hawkes had obligingly stitched up the nasty wound on the back of his head and cleaned his wounds. A couple of Tylenol and a shower later he felt a whole lot better.
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The hotel was nice, thought Don, staring up at the ceiling, not that he'd been that aware of it, seeing as Rebecca had been all too anxious to get up to their room. In fact, if you'd asked him at that precise second to describe the layout of it, he'd have been hard pushed to tell you.
He'd been kind of busy. Well the love of your life deciding she wanted to be in charge for a change and doing all kinds of extremely arousing and dirty things to you pretty much tended to take up all your thought processes. And of course, saying thank you also tended to clog your brain up as well. So now the two, hot, sweaty, tired bodies were definitely in need of a shower.
He turned his head to one side to look at his girlfriend, who was also staring up at the ceiling. Their eyes met. They both smiled at each other.
"So," said Don.
"So," replied Rebecca.
"How about we check out that bathroom," he added, "'Cause I feel in need of another shower right about now."
Rebecca grinned at him and slipped off the bed, wandering over to the bathroom. Don watched her retreating naked body with no small amount of appreciation. He sighed, before getting out of the bed himself and following her into the bathroom. He watched Rebecca fiddle with the temperature controls to the large shower unit that stood in the middle of the bathroom, ensuring the flow of water wasn't too hot or pressured, before stepping inside. Don followed, closing the door behind them.
She turned to face him, smiling up at him, bottle of shower gel in hand. She poured a small amount into her hand and then handed the bottle to him. They both lathered the liquid into rich foam, covering every inch of their bodies, their touches soon growing bolder as the minutes passed. Don could feel himself growing more aroused by the second as Rebecca's hands wandered down to make sure every inch of him was covered with the soap. He kissed her, smirking a little as she deepened the kiss and lifted her arms around his neck, pushing her body closer to his. He chuckled and put her slightly away from him, pouring some shampoo into his hand, indicating that she should turn round. He lathered the liquid up, applying it to her hair, rubbing it through her long tresses. He heard her moan as his fingers firmly massaged the tension out of her scalp. He turned her back to face him as he guided the water so that nothing flowed into her eyes. As the water ran clear, he kissed her again, backing her so that she was up against the tiled wall of the cubicle, lifting one leg so that he could get better access to her most sensitive parts.
He kissed her neck as he parted her folds, smiling to himself as he felt how wet she was, catching his breath as her hands gripped him. He returned his lips to hers as he started to stroke her throbbing clit, rewarded with mewling sounds of pleasure that he ate into a kiss.
"Please," she begged, "Please."
He smiled and lifted her slightly, supporting her against the wall with his strong hands. Slowly he allowed her weight to slide down onto him, both of them gasping at the sensation of his being inside her. He kissed her again as she wound her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her. He held her hips as he thrust gently inside her, her moans and gasps quickly causing his movements to become stronger and more purposeful. He looked deep into her eyes, seeing the love and need for him in them, watching as she smiled right back at him. He watched as she bit her lip, closing her eyes as he hit a sensitive spot inside her, watching her mouth part in uncontrolled passion as he did it again and again, then the almost desperate was she kissed him as he returned his hand to stroke her most sensitive spot, bringing her ever closer to the point of no return.
She grasped his buttocks as he thrust deeper, feeling her muscles begin to flutter around him, watching as the telltale flush began to color the pale skin of her face and décolleté and he grinned, knowing they were both getting close. She reached it first, the contracting of her muscles triggering his own release and he felt himself spill into her hotly. He let her slide slowly down him, till her feet touched the floor of the shower, her arms still around his neck. She smiled and kissed him softly.
"You're right," she whispered, kissing him again.
"About what?" he asked.
"Definitely keeping that out of the workplace," she replied.
He chuckled, smiling down at her and kissed her quickly on her lips before turning off the water. He grabbed a couple of towels, wrapping her in a large fluffy sheet, before wrapping a smaller one around his waist, then her carried her back to the bedroom, her arms around his neck.
One more night and they'd be back at their place, he thought.
Home.
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So the penultimate chapter is DONE! Did you REALLY think I would let something happen to my favorite detective? Shame on you all!
Shorter one than usual and the last may be even shorter, but I hope you're still enjoying it so far!
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