**********
Chapter 6 - Save Me.
“Bri? You okay, Sweetie?”
I guess I got a little lost again, since I find Emmett sitting beside me, his arm around my shoulders as he lightly rubs at my thigh with his other hand. I slouch back against the sofa cushion behind me and rub at my face, trying to rid myself of the images of blood. I need to get ahold of myself. Me freaking out every ten minutes isn’t going to help Justin. I need to get a grip. I gotta try and focus on finding him. I tell myself I can’t think about the other shit.
This time, though, it doesn’t seem to be working. That picture of Justin lying there, bleeding out, won’t go away. I feel my stomach rebelling. With one hand over my mouth, I leap to my feet and take off down the hall towards the bathroom. I just barely make it to the toilet before I lose whatever was left in my stomach.
Thank fuck my helpful Adventure Partner is there a minute later. Emmett hands me a towel to wipe off my face and then follows it up with a glass of water he fills at the bathroom tap. Nothing has ever tasted better than that glass of water as it cools my sore throat.
“He gonna be okay?” Gravelly Guy asks from somewhere behind me.
“Eventually. This is a lot to deal with and he only just got out of the hospital a little more than two hours ago,” Em answers, patting me on the back familiarly. “But Brian’s tough. He’ll be fine as soon as we find his friend.”
I take a deep breath, in through my nose, and then hold it until all the leftover nausea passes. Then I accept Em’s outstretched hand and use it to climb to my feet. My knees still feel a little wobbly, but my resolve is steady.
“What did you remember, son?” the Detective asks as I stand before him.
“The Sapp’s guy came to get Justin. He wanted to get him ready for this week’s party. I tried to fight him, to protect the kid, but Justin got caught in the middle of it. The guard - I think Sapp called him ‘Alex’ one time - accidentally hit Justin in the head with the taser thing he was using to control us. I grabbed the taser and used it on the guard until the guy passed out. Then I tried to help Justin. But, when I couldn’t get the bleeding to stop, I left to go find help. And that’s the last I remember till I got to the Diner,” I recite the revelations of my last vision.
“Ah! That makes sense then. You escaped and the perps got scared. They cancelled the party they were going to throw and probably bugged out. Unfortunately, they’ve got a few hours head start on us,” Horvath reasons through the next steps he needs to take. “Ziva - get on the horn to the station and have them send somebody out to the airport asap. Chances are they won’t be able to get a flight out till after six.” When the Detective is done yelling down the hall to his companion, he turns back to me. “Anything else? Anything that can help us find this kid?”
I sigh and shake my head, feeling like I’m just about at the end of my strength here.
Before I can say anything, though, there’s a strong, supportive body standing next to me, his arm snaking around my waist, helping to hold me up. “You can do this, Bri. Think. Where’s your blond? You know where he is, you just have to reach deep and find the answer.”
For a big nelly bottom, Emmett is remarkably sturdy, and I find myself leaning on him, relying on his strength in unprecedented ways, as I let my head drop so it’s resting against his shoulder. It feels really good to have him here with me. Supporting me both physically and emotionally. And it gives me the resolve I need to try again.
I reach into that scary memory one more time, exploring it more fully, and trying to suss out any nuances I might have missed. Everything's the same - I’m still stymied by the blood and the overwhelming fear - but somehow I’m also able to see beyond that part of it. And somehow, I manage to find it. The piece that was missing.
“Music!” I announce, standing up straighter as soon as it comes to me. “There was music. It was outside the room where we were being held, and really muffled, but I could feel the bass. It had to be loud to get through my drugged-out state.”
“Music?” Horvath echoes my statement, looking at me thoughtfully. “You said this guy, Sapperstein, owns a nightclub, right?”
“Babylon!” Emmett screeches excitedly. “That makes total sense. You were in no condition to have walked very far, and we know you didn’t drive because your car was out here, but you could have easily walked the four or five blocks from Babylon to the Diner.” Emmett’s so excited he leans in and kisses my cheek. “Let’s go get your boy!”
“Hang on there, Marple,” Horvath grabs Emmett’s shoulder before we can get out of the bathroom. “You two aren’t going anywhere. This is a police matter.”
“Fuck that. I’m the one these monsters have been torturing for the past week. I’m also the one who promised Justin I would come back for him,” I announce, only realizing after I say the words that they’re true. “Just try and stop me, Detective.”
“Damn it, Kinney. We can’t just go barreling in there. We have to wait till we’ve got the warrant.”
“No, Detective. YOU need a warrant. I don’t. All I need is a sledgehammer to break the lock on the door,” I state emphatically. “You need to drive, Em - I’m still a little shaky. We’ll come back for my Jeep later. And we have to stop at Deb’s on the way and get the sledgehammer out of her garage. Let’s go!”
I’m already halfway down the hall before I hear an aggravated Gravelly Guy growling as he plods after us. “Calm the fuck down, Kinney. You don’t need to stop for a damn sledgehammer . . . I have a police issue battering ram in my trunk.” That stops me in my tracks. “Ziva, you and Matthews stay here and secure the scene. As soon as forensics gets out here, you can come find me at this club.” Horvath stalks past Em and I, pausing as he reaches for the door. “You guys coming?”
**********
I’m silently cursing myself all the way back into town. I can’t believe we were there, at the club, wasting time talking to Todd and Ducky, when Justin was there all the time. If he’s not okay . . .
“Stop beating yourself up, Brian,” Emmett’s comment breaks through my musing. “You didn’t know he was there and you’re still only barely okay yourself. We’ll get him and he’ll be fine.”
“He’s just a kid, Em. And he’s so fucking sweet. He doesn’t deserve this shit.”
*****Flash*****
I’ve had a totally for-shit day. Make that a for-shit week. I thought that a night out, drinking and burying myself in ass after ass, would counteract the shittiness, but so far nothing seems to be helping. The shittiness has been so overwhelming that even my friends have finally abandoned me to deal with it all alone. No problem. I’ll just down another Beam or two and hopefully that will be enough to make me forget about the overall shittiness of the world.
I slam back my drink and slide the glass across the bar towards the barkeep . . . Only to have the fucking bartender tell me he’s cutting me off. Me? Okay, so I admit I’m fucking drunk, but not drunk enough to get cut off. I’ve always been able to hold my liquor. It’s a Kinney family trait. It’s genetic as fuck. He can’t cut ME off.
Only he does. The fucker. So I’m now totally pissed off and vow to leave this dive and never come back.
Which I would definitely do, if I could make it all the way to the damn door. Unfortunately, I get distracted before I make it that far. It’s not my fault though - there’s a fucking angel dancing on the bar and his brilliance distracts me.
I’m not even exaggerating. This guy is a fucking ANGEL! I can tell because of the fucking halo of light that shines off the kid’s crown of blond hair. He’s so fucking beautiful, I’m almost blinded. And all I can do in my drunken stupor is stand there, mouth hanging open, as I stare up at the vision of blondness shaking his ass in my face. Damn him for being so beautiful.
My angel is perfect, though. He’s got this pale, almost translucent skin, that shines under the bright lights flashing through the club. And his hair is cut in this adorable prep-boy cut - I’m allowed to think the word ‘adorable’ when I’m this drunk, right? - which makes him look like a fucking kid. It’s hard to see what color his eyes are, what with the flickering disco lights, but I suspect they are a liquid blue that will suck me in and bewitch me, because that’s what angels do. And don’t even get me started on the delicious way he moves his body to the music.
I have to have this angel.
Just then, the song that was blasting through the speakers changes and I hear the DJ announce that it’s last call. I hadn’t realized it was that late. That seems to be the signal, though, for my Angel to descend to earth and join the rest of us humans. He reaches a hand down to me, asking for support, and I grab hold of that hand with pleasure.
“Thanks,” the Angel says, his voice a melodic tenor that causes little rills of lust to vibrate through my core. “Fuck, I’m beat. What a night, huh?”
In my drunken reverie I have no filters whatsoever, so my reply is, understandably, a little over the top. “I love you. Don’t ever leave me. I want to worship you forever.”
The Angel laughs and I’m captivated all over again by the magical notes of his amusement. I refuse to let go of the hand I’m still holding. He just smiles at me and I’m temporarily blinded by that damn smile.
“You’re drunk. But you’re also cute. And I like the idea of being worshiped. How about I get us two waters and you can detail exactly how this worship thing is supposed to work?”
*****Flash*****
I laugh out loud at this newest flash of memory.
“What?” Emmett asks without looking at me - he’s too busy driving, trying to keep up with Detective Horvath’s police sedan that’s zooming along in front of us with lights and sirens blaring.
“The first time I saw him, I told him I wanted to worship him forever,” I confess, laughing at myself again. “Of course, I was drunk out of my fucking mind at the time.”
“Aww. That’s so cute. I bet you totally swept him off his feet. It’s like the perfect romance.”
I scoff at that statement. “Yeah. If the perfect romance involves getting kidnapped, assaulted and tortured together.”
“Well, there’s that. But as long as you two get your happily ever after, that’s all that matters.”
“What have you been smoking? I don’t believe in happily ever afters, Emmy Lou. You should know that by now.”
“But I do, Brian. And after what you’ve been through, I’m not going to rest till you and your blond get yours. I’m going to make it my life’s work. And you know how persistent I can be, so you might as well just resign yourself to your happy ending now and not fight it.”
He reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze to emphasize his conviction, and I’m too tired to argue with him or even to pull my hand away.
“First we have to actually find him,” is as much as I will concede, adding to myself, ‘and hope to fuck he’s not dead already.’
The rescue itself is almost anticlimactic. By the time we pull up outside Babylon it’s almost five am. The adrenaline and fear that have been keeping me going all night are mostly gone. I can barely stumble along behind Horvath while he uses his battering ram thing to force open the front door of the club. He makes us wait while he goes in with his gun in hand, but it’s clear that the club is empty and he soon waves us in. We eventually find the stairs down to the basement - a basement that I hadn’t previously been aware even existed - and make our way down there.
I’m too tired to even feel anxious or surprised anymore. Mostly I’m just numb now. Emmett’s dogging my steps as if he’s worried I’ll break into hysterics or maybe collapse again. I don’t have the energy for either of those options, so I just plod along in Horvath’s wake, silently hoping this nightmare will soon be over.
Most of the basement is just a large open area filled with broken furniture, old props and unused promotional items. There’s a storage room for excess alcohol. There’s a laundry room, an electrical room and another room for all the HVAC equipment.
Then there's a room near the back of the building that’s set up as a personal playroom/dungeon. From the hallway I can see in through the open door. There’s a sling hanging from the ceiling in the back corner, an unmade bed in the other corner, a paddling bench in the middle of the floor, and even a cross-thing against the wall. I am NOT ready to think about that room or any of the memories that might be hiding inside it. I physically turn my back on the room and wait as patiently as I can while Horvath checks it out and makes sure it’s ‘clear’.
Which leaves only one more door at the very end of the little hallway. I had wanted to run right to it from the moment we’d come down the basement stairs, but the Detective held me back, insisting we clear all the other rooms as we passed them, to make sure there weren’t any bad guys hiding out, waiting to ambush us. This seemingly artificial restraint was killing me, even though I simultaneously dreaded what I might find behind that door after all the hours it had taken me to get back here.
When Horvath has finally reached the right door, he does his cop thing, bursting through the door and pointing his gun around. Obviously, there’s no threat, though, since he quickly holsters the gun and steps inside. I’m there a second later, pushing past him to get to the boy lying on the floor. I drop to my knees, probably ruining another pair of jeans since there’s still a lot of blood around. Justin looks so pale and still that I’m afraid to touch him. I fear I’m too late. The cop takes charge, reaching a hand towards the still body to check for a pulse.
“Whew!” Horvath exclaims before he pulls out his phone. “It’s Horvath. I need an ambulance here stat. I’ve got one victim, unconscious, with a head injury. He’s got a pulse but it’s pretty faint . . .”
He’s got a pulse.
I pick up the youth’s hand and I’m thrilled to feel the warmth of his skin against mine. “I’m back, Angel,” I whisper. “Sorry it took me so long.”
**********
It takes another two hours before the doctors have Justin stabilized and I’m allowed in to see him. I had demanded to ride in the ambulance with him, but then was forced to let him go as soon as the hospital folks took over. Even now, they were going to try and keep me out since I wasn’t family, except that Horvath intervened and ordered the doctor to let me in to see him. Fuckers. Now that I’m here, though, I’m not leaving.
Justin has been cleaned up and the gash on his head is bandaged. In the harsh, bright lighting in the hospital room, you can see all of the other injuries even more clearly. His poor face is horribly bruised. His arms and wrists are cut and raw looking in spots. He looks so beat up. Then I realize I must not look much better. Fuck it all.
“He’s really beautiful,” Emmett comments, looking over my shoulder at the sleeping boy, and directly contradicting my last thoughts. “Don’t worry, Bri. I know it looks bad on the surface, but all those cuts and bruises will heal and he’ll be good as new in no time. You will be too.” Emmett leans in and leaves a friendly kiss on my cheek and I’m too tired and emotionally wrung out to protest. Then he asks, “you gonna stay here?” I nod as I slump down into the guest chair next to Justin’s bed. “Okay. Try to get some rest though; you've got to be wiped. I’m going home, get a few hours sleep myself, and then I’ll come back and make sure you’re both still doing alright. Do you need anything before I go?”
“No. But, could you stop by the loft on your way back and bring me some clean clothes?” I ask and hand over my keys.
“No problem, Sweetie. See ya in a few hours.”
And then my friend is gone and it’s just me and a sleeping boy. A sleeping boy with a cracked skull, possible brain damage, and more ancillary injuries than the doctors could count. But he’s alive. That’s a start, I guess. And we’re free from those sadistic fucks that wanted to hurt us. Now I can only wait and hope that somehow this will all end up right.
I scoot my chair closer so I can hold his hand. I rest my head on the edge of the mattress. And, before you know it, I’m snoring alongside my rescued blond.
*****Flash*****
“Who is it?” Justin sits up in a panic as I’m shoved into our tiny prison room so abruptly that I trip and fall, jarring him from his sleep as I practically land on top of him.
“Fuck!” I moan as I land hard on my shoulder.
“Are you okay, Brian?”
“No, I’m not fucking okay,” I snarl, so angry at my situation that I momentarily take it out on my fellow captive. “I don’t think I’ll ever be okay after this . . .” I mumble, trying not to break into tears.
Justin, wisely, doesn’t take offense at my complaints, knowing they aren’t directed at him. He crawls over to where I’ve landed, pulls me up into a semi-sitting position and then wraps his arms around me. I let him comfort me. It’s something, at least, although it doesn’t stop the pain or the anger. But that little shred of human kindness is something. I lay my head on his slender shoulder as he runs his fingers through my hair.
Eventually I stop shaking.
*****Flash*****
The gentle fingers are still running through my hair when I wake from my latest memory/flashback. I’m almost afraid to open my eyes for fear this too will turn out to be a dream. Then the hand moves and I can feel the fingers tracing lightly over my cheek, my brow, down my nose, and along my lips. I can’t resist and I kiss the finger that traces over my lips a second time.
I hear a quiet chuckle. It’s the most welcome noise in the world. I have to open my eyes then so I can look at the face that goes along with that chuckle.
“Hey.” Justin greets me with a lopsided smile despite the bruising of a swollen lip.
“Hey, you,” I smile back at him. “Welcome back.”
“How?”
I shrug. “I managed to get away. Then I came back for you as soon as I found some help. Sorry it took so long.”
“You came back for me.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Thanks.” Then he winces and lifts a hand to the side of his head where all the bandages are. “What’s this all about?”
“That fucker, Alex, accidentally clocked you with his fucking cattle prod thing. Cracked your skull.” I have to swallow and squeeze my eyes shut to stop the unexpected surge of panic before I can continue. “I thought . . . I thought you were dead . . . Or at least dying . . . The doctors were worried you were going to drift into a coma.”
He shakes his head, but then winces again from the pain the movement causes. “Hurts like a bitch, though.”
“Let me call the nurse. He can give you something for the pain.”
I push the call button to summon the duty nurse and then settle down in my chair again, reaching out to hold his hand once more. I’m not sure what’s come over me, because I’m really not the sort to fucking hold hands all the time, but I feel a little lost when I’m not touching him. And, fuck it all, after the shit we’ve been through, I’m not going to worry about whether or not I should feel awkward about holding another guy’s hand.
The nurse comes in and does his thing, poking and prodding and taking readings using various gadgets. Then the doctor is summoned and he does more poking. They try to get me to leave the room while they’re doing all this shit, but my blond refuses to let me go, so I stay. The doctor seems worried about some residual weakness in Justin’s right side, and says there will be more tests later. But considering that this kind of injury might have been either fatal or left him a vegetable for the rest of his life, it’s looking pretty good. When they’re all done assessing his condition, the doctor orders a sedative so that Justin can get some pain-free rest.
As the nurse adds the new medication to the IV, Justin looks over at me with a worried expression. He’s biting at his bottom lip, despite how painful and bruised it still is. I feel his fingers tighten around mine.
“You won’t . . . You won’t leave, will you, Brian?” he asks hesitantly. “I know you’re probably . . . I mean, you must want to go home or something, but I . . . I just . . . just . . .”
I watch as his anxiety level ratchets up and I feel an echo of the same dread myself. “I’m not going anywhere, kid,” I rush to reassure him. “We’re in this together, right?”
He smiles at me again and I can see his relief in the deep blue eyes. “Right. Thanks, Brian. I just . . . I don’t think I’m ready to be alone.”
The sedative they gave him must be strong because his eyelids are already drooping. He’s asleep practically before the nurse leaves the room. I wait till the door closes all the way before I pick up his hand, deposit a kiss on the back of it, and then whisper my response, “me neither.”
**********