A/N And I present to you Special Agent Dwayne "King" Pride and Detective Christopher LaSalle! XD

CHAPTER FIVE

NCIS Special Agent Dwayne "King" Pride sat in the cramped NCIS headquarters, reviewing the casefile in his hands. It wasn't his case, per-se, and acquiring the paperwork had not been particularly above board, but it was too late to turn back now. Besides, ever since he started reading the notes a couple hours ago, something had been nipping at the back of his mind. This case was familiar somehow, he just couldn't quite place it.

His gaze moved up to the clock on the wall, making the knot in his stomach grow exponentially. Nine o'clock. PM. Linda had made it quite clear that, if he was late for supper again, his NCIS agents would be investigating his murder.

The joy of working in law enforcement was that people could make that kind of joke. However, Dwayne was having difficult time deciding on whether or not Linda was joking. Not that he thought that she would literally kill him but figuratively was another story – she would have zero problem with making him wish he were dead. He had opted to play it safe and be profoundly and unmistakably punctual tonight.

Ah, well, best laid plans 'n all. If it wasn't for the seriousness of this case, he would have kept his promise and been home several hours ago, in plenty of time for supper.

The past two years had been difficult for Linda and Laurel both, with Dwayne's attention constantly being called away. If it wasn't a crime scene, it was relief efforts. Occasionally, he had even happened upon a civilian dispute on the way home and, unable to turn a blind eye to people in need, had missed dinner completely. To make matters worse, on those occasions Laurel had always been in bed by the time he got home, leaving him with no chance to say goodnight to his little girl.

And tonight would be no different. The choice hadn't come easy to him. He loved his wife and adored Laurel! But Christopher's downward spiral was weighing on Dwayne's mind more and more with each passing day. Having only known the young man for a little less than a year, the idea that he would be this important to him was inconceivable – yet there it was. He couldn't explain the protective streak that coursed through him every time he saw a chip in the kid's armour, revealing a peek into the immense pain carefully concealed behind it.

But knowing it was there and knowing how to fix it were two totally different animals. Christopher certainly wouldn't accept the help willingly. So, the trick was in either tricking him or forcing him, neither of which particularly appealed to Pride.

With a put upon sigh, he stood up to get another cup of coffee from the kitchenette, biting back a curse when one knee slammed up against the corner of his neighbouring agent's desk along the way.

Incorporating a hodgepodge of more than just NCIS agents, the office was crowded during regular business hours and remained disorganized and cluttered every other time of the day. It was really no wonder at all that he got claustrophobic in this place, even on nights like tonight, when it was devoid of all human life but his own.

Not for the first time, he longed for a more casual setting. A homey atmosphere, if you will. He was still waiting for the official go ahead on that one but 'unofficially' he'd been advised NCIS would allow it on a trial basis. He already had his sights set on a nice carriage house in the French Quarter that would fit his needs perfectly.

He just needed to build the best team NCIS had ever seen – which would be difficult to do, with Jethro and his team in Washington setting such a high bar! Difficult but not impossible!

As he poured his coffee, squeaking hinges brought his attention to the front door and in walked NOPD Vice Detective Christopher LaSalle, looking pretty steamed to say the least.

"Hello, Christopher!" Pride put on his cheeriest smile, a solid declaration of 'I didn't do it and, even if I did, you can't prove it!'. He held up the mostly fresh brew, "Cup of coffee?"

Instead of answering, Christopher stalked into the kitchenette and launched into a blustering tirade. "I thought I was okay with it, but I was wrong!"

Okay, so, it was going to be one of those types of visits. Dwayne sighed inwardly, wishing he wasn't going to be getting behind the wheel in a few short hours because he really wanted to add a little extra something to his coffee when getting torn a new one by Detective LaSalle – it always helped him keep the look of serenity and ignore the fact that his blood was boiling beneath the surface. The young detective could be quite infuriating at times, especially when he was completely oblivious to the fact that Dwayne was just trying to help him!

Concerned about Christopher's state of mind after two horrific cases in a row – one involving a young boy whom the detective had been unable to save despite his above-and-beyond heroic efforts – Dwayne had dropped by the NOPD to make some confidential inquiries. Apparently, those probing questions had not been as discreet as he'd thought.

He kept reminding himself that Christopher LaSalle was simply not used to anyone caring about his well-being enough to actually do anything about it, hence his current mood. Clearly, Dwayne had a hit a nerve. Certainly not his intention but it was better than the indifferent, stoic, almost robot-like version of the past few weeks. Which was why Dwayne leaned back against the counter and just let the kid rant.

"… and then, when I confronted you a few hours ago and you pretended to have no idea what I was talkin' about – "

Dwayne straightened, pulling away from the counter and regarding Christopher with confusion. "You never confronted me."

The young detective's eyebrows rocketed up into his hairline. "Seriously, Pride!? You're gonna play dumb again?"

"Son," Dwayne started, not missing the twitch that occurred in Christopher's expression every time he called him that, "I honestly have no idea what you're talkin' about."

The rage flared in LaSalle's eyes seconds before he yelled and knocked the hot pot of coffee out of Dwayne's hand. It smashed against the wall before it fell to the floor, both impacts sending shards and scalding liquid flying into the air with lightning speed!

For a moment, both men stood rooted to the spot, staring wide-eyed at each other. Christopher was the first to turn away, but not before Dwayne saw the flash of regret replace the rage in his eyes. He reached out and gripped the younger man's arm, intending to stop him from walking away but the detective yanked himself out of Dwayne's reach and headed for the door. "Christopher, stop!"

The tone is what made the difference. Even angry, the young man couldn't ignore that tone from a father figure. And that's what Dwayne was to him, no matter how much he tried to deny it! He reluctantly turned to face Pride, gaze wounded and unsure. And ashamed.

Dwayne indicated the large shard of glass sticking out of Christopher's other arm. "You're hurt."

LaSalle glanced down, transfixed by the bloody rivulets making a trail down to his fingertips and dripping onto the floor. Huh. He hadn't even noticed. By the time he looked up again, Pride was next to him, taking him by his uninjured arm and leading him over to his desk. He felt himself being gently deposited into a chair, then he was alone again.

Alone. Always alone. Just like Jasper had been alone. Nine years old. He was only nine years old!...

His vision went fuzzy. Where was he again?

They threw him into a chair, then held him still while duct tape was wound around his wrists and ankles several more times than necessary, securing him to the chair. They proceeded to beat him incessantly, stopping every few minutes to offer his freedom in exchange for the location of where their boss was being held.

Christopher knew they were going to kill him either way. Hazard of the job. Besides, their 'boss' was a child trafficker. No way on God's green earth was he gonna tell them where she was! These guys were muscle, plain and simple. She had been the brains of the operation. No way would they be able to carry on the 'business' without her!

So, he didn't care what they did to him, at least they wouldn't be able to hurt any more innocent children.

Then they turned on the monitor and introduced him to Jasper, a little boy they claimed was in another part of the warehouse, scared and alone. He was also tied to a chair, blindfolded. Even through the monitor's cheap speakers, Christopher could hear the tiny sobs echoing in the chamber…

A large hand settled on the side of his neck, squeezing gently. The seeming benevolence confused him. He tried to focus but it was difficult. Wait. Someone was sitting directly in front of him. Too close. He jolted back but the hand kept a firm grip on his neck, while another hand latched onto his shoulder. He heard a voice but it was garbled, as if the person was speaking from underwater. They must have drugged him! He had to help Jasper! He struggled to get away and grunted at the unexpected sharp, burning pain in his arm!

Suddenly, he felt himself pulled forward, his cheek pressed against something hard and unyielding. Solid braces were wrapped around his back, immobilizing him further. "No! Let me go!" He heard drums, loud drums, pounding in one ear! A persistent buzzing sound in the other!

Then Jasper's quiet sobs forced their way past the mysterious drums and buzzing. He pushed and pulled against his restraints, the agony in his arm making him cry out! Angry at himself for showing weakness, he ignored the pain and fought even more fervently.

And, just like that, he was free! He instantly tried to get up from the chair, only to feel the raw pain in his arm explode with intensity for a split second. Before he could react, he was pulled forward again. This time his hands were pinned between his chest and the rigid, no-give barrier in front of him. Knowing he'd been bested, he was nevertheless chagrined to hear the soft whimper escape his lips!

Dwayne had no idea what happened. One minute, Christopher was sitting quietly in the chair, waiting patiently for Pride to return with the med kit. The next he was struggling to get away as if his life depended on it!

Not knowing what else to do, Dwayne pulled Christopher against his chest and wrapped his arms firmly around him. "Christopher, what's wrong? Settle down! It's just me, kid!"

Then he heard: "Jasper…" and everything came tumbling into place for him.

Christopher was reliving that day. The day Dwayne had been wanting the kid to face up to for weeks! But not like this. Never like this. One particularly jarring movement aggravated the wound in Christopher's arm!

Having heard enough physical and emotional pain from the usually stoic young man to last a lifetime but needing to treat the wound before the struggling made it worse, Dwayne yanked the alarmingly large piece of glass from his young friend's arm. He quickly pressed some gauze against the wound and folded Christopher's arm up to hold it in place.

Seeing the now unmitigated pain in his friend's eyes, he followed suit with the other arm and pulled Christopher forward once again. With the detective's arms pinned between them, and his own arms wrapped around the shuddering back, Dwayne just held on and waited for Christopher to return to the here and now.

Slowly, he became more aware of his surroundings. The drumming sound was a heartbeat. Frantic, but steady. The buzzing was a voice, though he still couldn't decipher the words, nor determine who the voice belonged to. Each brace across his back was actually an arm. The unyielding barrier was a person. More specifically, a person's chest.

The words began to penetrate his thoughts… "I'm right here, Christopher. I've got you. Come on back, son."

LaSalle tensed. Aw, crap! Pride. Which meant, logically, the arms and the chest belonged to him, as well. He tried to push away but the hold was still firm and unrelenting. "Let me go," he pleaded softly.

There was a pause in the continuing mantra. Then: "Christopher? You with me?"

"Yeah, 'm here," he intoned, flushing with embarrassment.

Still, Pride didn't release him. "You okay?"

"Let me go, Pride," Christopher insisted. "'m good."

After a moment, the arms pulled away from him – and he found himself feeling inexplicably cold and bereft. He determinedly ignored those unexpected sensations, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.

Dwayne ducked down a bit, trying to make eye contact but Christopher was having none of it.

"Sorry about the coffee pot," he muttered, "… and…you know," he waved his hand in the air, "… everything else."

"Don't worry about it," Dwayne said sincerely. Knowing better than to pursue the topic right now, he started to unfold the arm that was still bent up to hold the gauze in place. The young detective instinctually resisted his efforts. Sensing that his young friend needed to be given back some semblance of control over the situation, he said, "Christopher, I need to dress this wound properly. Will you let me do that?"

Chris nodded and lowered his arm, still refusing to meet Pride's eyes but at least allowing himself to be tended to.

"So," Dwayne began, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice as he extracted the necessary items from the med kit, "tell me about this meeting we had a few hours ago."

After hearing about the confrontation between Christopher and the apparent Dwayne-doppelganger, Dwayne studied the young detective carefully. What were the chances that the stress had just gotten to be too much for the kid?

"I'm not crazy, Pride!"

Dwayne held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I never said you were, Christopher! I'm just... worried about you," he added earnestly.

"Well, don't be! I don't need you to worry about me, Pride! I did just fine on my own before I met you, okay?!"

"Okay, okay," Dwayne said, benching that discussion for the time being. "So, this guy looked exactly like me?"

"Yes!" Christopher exclaimed. "Right down to that annoying 'see into your soul' gaze of yours!"

Dwayne couldn't help but smirk. Christopher really didn't like the fact that someone could read him so well. "All right, then. Why don't we head out to this diner together? See if my twin is still there."

LaSalle eyed him critically, using his own people reading skills to figure out whether or not Pride was simply humouring him. Satisfied that he was being taken seriously, the young detective nodded his agreement then stood up to follow Pride out of the office...

And froze! He picked up the file folder sitting on Pride's desk, then glared up at the ever frustrating NCIS agent. "This is my casefile! Where did you get this?!"

Having completely forgotten about the file he'd been reviewing earlier, Dwayne's responding grin was sheepish. How was he going to get himself out of this one?

TBC