From: "Julia Webster" Date: Wed, 10 Nov 1999 09:20:23 +1100

Title: Quincey's Revenge

Author: Julia & Camilla

Disclaimer: Did we SAY they were ours?? we did?? ops... well in THAT case......we should better give them back... you don't think we should?? lets KEEP them then! ::steals the toys back off whoever stole them last::

Authors note: I dunno.. I feel like writing something... and I wanted to use one of the lonely letters left behind by other titles.. who knows how this is gonna turn out!

Author's Note 2: (Cam) Oh, the funs I've had with this story! Thanks for giving it to me Julia!!

Quincey's Revenge

Rachel Goldstein sighed inwardly and stared blankly at the bare wall opposite her. She reviewed one of the most horrific days of her life in her mind as she patiently waited for someone to tell her what the mink was going on.

The day had simply started of badly, the tyres of her car being slashed during the night, making her late for work. Helen didn't want to know about it, claiming that it was probably kids making mischief in the dead of the night. Rachel thought otherwise. Quincey Croloft was released from prison a week ago, Quincey being her toughest case to solve. He had brutally kidnapped, tortured and murdered 5 Sydney women, leaving behind gruesome clues to taunt Police with. Rachel, along with Frank had apprehended, and subsequently charged him with the murders, only later she heard the charges were dropped to kidnapping when Croloft pleaded mental instability. His due date for release was 9 days ago, plenty of time for him to get back into his old habits.

Rachel stared down at her wrists, trying again to free herself from the binds that held her, sighing miserably when again she failed. Her hope was starting to fade, she had been held for hours, surely someone had missed her by now, Helen...Jeff...even Mick, surely someone had to notice when she didn't report in after a routine callout with Jack. Unfortunately there was nothing routine about it when they arrived. It had been a set-up from the time they arrived to the present.

That morning there had been a phone call made to the station, someone claiming to have new information relating to an old case where some bodies were dragged up from the bottom of the harbour. Being the two senior D's, Rachel and Jack were sent out, but when they arrived all hell broke loose. They pulled up to the house, a rather large, well built home in the richer area of Sydney, complete with automatic gates and video surveillance. Reflecting back on those crucial few moments, Rachel realized that he had the upper hand during the whole event. He knew when they arrived, he knew who was there and what they expected of the situation. They had parked outside the front door, knocked.. having received no answer, they tried the door and entered the house. Croloft and his goons had been waiting, ambushing them as soon as they entered through the massive double doors to the house. Rachel had been grabbed first, her gun knocked from her hand and her arms twisted behind her back. She tried to fight, tried to protect herself, but there were just too many of them. She knew she had landed a few solid blows that would leave them sore for many a day, but she hadn't been able to help herself or her partner. Jack had been cuffed with his own handcuffs, gagged, and left to fend for himself in the entrance hall, while Rachel had been dragged into a dark cellar where she had been bound and gagged herself, her mobile phone taken, and pockets emptied.

Rachel looked around her dark prison again, there were no windows, and the room was less than a meter in both dimensions. It seemed to Rachel like some overglorified broom cupboard, minus anything useful of course. It was dark and cramped, and Rachel's legs were beginning to stiffen from the lack of movement. She peeked under the door again, hoping to see someone.. anyone, instead she saw rays of sunshine.

"Must be morning", she thought. This confirmed her theory that she had been moved.

Some hours after she had been dragged into the cellar, a masked man had appeared, offering some water to her. She realized to late that the water had a strange metallic taste to it, as if something had been added. Her eyelids had begun to drop, her speech was slurred, and she was forced to succumb to the invading darkness.

Rachel wasn't sure how long she'd been unconscious for, or what had been done to her during that time. Her mind gave an involuntary shudder as it sluggishly considered the possibilities.

"No," she told herself steadily, she wasn't going to go there, it'd be no use, and she had more important things to worry about. Like how to get out, and Jack..

"She's awake." It was the masked man again, standing in the doorway, staring intently at her. Something in his gaze made her shiver, despite the fact that the room was quite warm.

"Whadda ya staring at?!" she snapped, but he didn't even acknowledge her comment, turning to someone behind her.

"She's ready."


He was pacing his cellar. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, pause, then back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He didn't know where he was, why he was there and least of all what he waiting for. But something was going to happen, every cop instinct he had was screaming that at him. The door opened, and something was thrown in. A soft thump against the floor, then the door closed, and darkness surrendered him

"Enjoy!" came a far off yell, then silence. Except... breathing?

"Hello?" he called out, and got a soft moan in reply. For a second he though it sounded like... Nah, no way. Still, wouldn=92t hurt to.. Yeah, check it out.

He practically fell over her. Cursing, he got up on his knees and reached out to what he'd tripped over.

"Oh no, Rachel! Rachel?"

He knew it was her. The smell, the feel.. it was her. Fighting to keep a panic fit away, he gently lifted her into his lap. He could only just make out her features in the darkness, but he could feel something sticky and warm drip onto his hands. Blood.

"Rachel, can ya hear me, it's me.. Ya know Frank... Got my postcard, didn't ya? I was gonna send you some more.. Aaaaaw, hell, Rachel, what'd they do to ya?"

He let a hand slowly caress her cheek, and at least she was breathing, a bit shallow, but breathing nevertheless. And there, on the forehead was an ugly bruise, bleeding.

He cursed. Words like "head injury, concussion, brain damage" went flying through his head, and he felt the panic rise.

"Rach, come on, you're not gonna die on me, are ya? Come on, yell at me a little will ya? Rachel.. Rach, come on, talk to me! Okay, then I'll just talk to ya until ya tell me to shut up. Yeah, you ever heard the one about the American..."

"Shut up, Holloway." It was a tired voice, filled with hurt, but it was unmistakingly her.


"You're giving me a headache, Frank."

He grinned. He couldn't help it.

"Frank, are you smiling?"


"You are!"

"You're being delusional, Goldie. It's the head injury, but just ya rest here, and you'll be just fine."

"Sounds like you're enjoying this a little too much."

"What, the part where I got nabbed in Brisbane before I'd even had started my grand adventure, or the part when I got beaten up and locked in here with you?"

"Missed ya," she suddenly said.



Suddenly she clinged to him, resting her face against his chest. He hugged her fiercely back, never wanting to let her go again, to hold her just like this forever.

"This wasn't exactly how I'd imagined coming home," he said after a while. She glanced up at him.


"Yeah, you know, I was gonna sail in, and you'd be there, wearing something hot."

"Dream on, Holloway," she snorted.

"But you would be there, wouldn't ya?"

Leaning a bit more into his lap, her reply was but a soft whisper. But he heard... and grinned widely


Then the door opened. Like waking from a dream, they bolted upright, blinking at the sudden light. Several thugs were standing in the doorway.. but seeming to wait. Shooting a glance at Rach to see if she could... his heart jumped.

In the light he could finally see the extent of her injuries, and it was enough rise his anger to boiling point.

Her head injury was no longer bleeding, but was starting to get a disturbing purple color. Her nose was bright red from a hit, her wrists had several ugly bruises from being tied up, so did her ankles, and her clothes were torn in several places.

"Bastards," he muttered.

She was staring at him too, quite a bit tanned, and with streaks in his hair he looked quite...

"So how have my two favorite detectives been?" Quincey Croloft entered the room, smiling coldly.

"You!" Frank sputtered, and was up on his feet in a matter of seconds.

"What's the matter Holloway, aren't you happy we're all here together again?"

"You're a dead man, Croloft. This time you've gone too far. Assaulting and kidnapping officers of the law. Every cop in Sydney will hunt you down!" Rachel exclaimed, weakingly getting on her feet.

"I don't think so, Goldstein. They don't even know where you are.. and now.. it's time to play..."

Pulling up a gun, Quincey pointed it clearly at Rachel, his smile replaced by a cold stare.

"Any fuss from you, and your dear partner gets one between the eyes. Are we clear on that Holloway?"

He only got a hateful stare in return.

Chuckling, Quincey, gave a signal to the thugs by the door to grab him, and Rachel could only look helplessly as they pulled him out of the room.

"And you my dear.. I'll come for later!" and with that the door closed behind him, and she was once again alone.



How long she was alone there, she wasn't sure. Time seemed to not pass at all, stuck between two heartbeats. And she waited, and waited, and waited, and fought against tears, and waited and waited and waited. And in between she cursed, and thought up several things she'd like to do to Quincey.. and several things she's like to do to Frank too for popping back into her life like this. The fact that it wasn't actually his fault, she ignored completely.

Finally her head started swimming, and her legs wouldn't carry her anymore, and she fell asleep. A deep, dreamless sleep filled with a blessed darkness where there were no haunting memories or future fears.


They'd found Jack pretty fast. After all, he was still where the thugs had left him.. helplessly tied up, worried to death about Rachel.

The search began.

Unfortunatly they were sadly short-staffed, Jack too involved to be of any use, Frank away and Mick on vacation.. It was like looking through a haystack for a needle, especially since the kidnapper had not been in touch to state any demands. This worried Helen Blakemore a lot more then she=92d care to admit. She too remembered the Quincey case.. and just how angry Quincey had been at Goldstein.. and Holloway for cracking the case.. and Holloway?

"Aaaaah, crap!"

Not him too. Please, not him too. But a sickening feeling in her heart told her that it might just be the case...


Rachel awoke with a start. It took her a second to realize where she was.. and why she was there. Her head felt a lot better, but her body was sore, and her wrists had turned mostly purple. And she was cold, so dreadfully cold.

Somebody had put a lamp in, the poor lighting revealing that Frank still hadn't been returned to her. Despite her best efforts to stay calm, a shiver ran down her spine. She felt.. truly alone.

The door opened.. and Frank was pushed in. She was by his side in a matter of seconds, cradling him. Bruised and bloody.. and not breathing!! For a second she totally froze, feeling as if her heart had been ripped out of her.

And then her lips were on his, breathing life into him.

"Don't you dare die on me, Holloway!!"

She breathed into him again, willing him to wake up.

"I not letting ya die.. Ya hear me!! Ya may have left me Francis Holloway, but you're not dying on me!!"

Despite her best efforts to stay calm, tears were starting to form in her eyes, and wiped them away, then 2 more breathes.

"I hate ya for doing this to me, and I hate ya for making me love you.. and I'll hate ya for dying on me, so don't you dare!"

She bent down to breath into him again.. and found that his strong eyes were staring into hers. Relief poured through her. He's alive, he's alive! And he was looking at her so intently she felt like she was drowning in his stare, that he was looking into her very soul.

His lips were mere centimeters away, she realized dimly, and it would only take a small movement to...

She leaned in. His lips were soft and warm against hers, and gentle, as if afraid to hurt her. Warning bells went off all over in her mind, but for once she ignored them, after all, it wasn't like they were partners anymore.... And the control she so often craved for, disappeared by each touch of his lips.

And he wasn't just kissing her lips now, but her whole face, travelling from her cheeks to her chin to her eyelids and back to her mouth again with kisses as soft as the batting of an eyelash. He hesitating only a brief second, staring deeply into her eyes.. whispering so softly she thought she'd heard wrong.

"Love ya.."

Then he deepened the kiss. Meanwhile her hands were roaming free across his chest, into his hair, caressing his neck... His hands had travelled down to her waist, holding her tight against him.

"See, I always knew you guys had the hots for each other!"

Rachel froze. Suddenly it all felt wrong, kissing Frank like there was no tomorrow. It was neither the time nor the place, for once her emotions had got the better of her. She started to pull away.

Frank felt her freeze against him, and he let her pull away, only his hand stayed firmly on her back. For a second their eyes locked and he saw a mix of emotions: Regret, anger, fear.. and something softer, meant only for him.

God, he needed her anger now, her strength more than ever. This, he had an ugly feeling, had just begun....


Helen found Jack in his and Rachel's office. He was just sitting there, staring at her empty desk.

He looked more alone than anyone Helen had ever seen.

"What if we don't get her back?" he asked, more to the desk than her.

She had no reply, only a comforting pat on the shoulder to offer.

"They've found traces of Rachel's blood at the crime scene.. we're still searching..." her voice trailed off.

He didn't seem to be listening. Sighing she turned. It was gonna be a long night for both of them.

"Any traces of Frank?" he suddenly asked as she reached the door.

She shook her head.

"They've been through a lot together," he stated matter of factly.

"Together they might stand a chance," he added after a while.

Helen could do nothing but pat him again, knowing he probably feared Rachel not coming back as much as Rachel and Frank getting through it Together...


Frank broke his gaze from Rachel, and turned to Quincey.

"And just what if we have?" he said coldly, "is it botherin ya that I have somthin ya haven't?" He felt Rachel's stare at back of his neck, but he was determined to plunge onwards, trying to provoke the asshole.

Get him angry, make him slip up! Come on Rach, ya know what I'm tryin to do!

As if reading his mind, she got up besides him, and he squeeze his hand to her back as encouragement.

"Yeah, what's your problem, ey Croloft? Ya can't get it goin... can ya???!!"

For a second it seemed to work. She could see red spots appear in his cheek, but then he just smiled chillingly..

"Shut up bitch! You're just like the others.. Ya don't know that what I want.. I take!"

With that he reached out and pulled Rachel to him while giving Frank a warning glare.

"No stunts, Frankie boy!"

Frank didn't move a muscle, but Rachel could see his jaw harden.

Harm her Croloft, and you'll wish you were dead!

"Ya have a nice partner, Holloway. Too bad ya left her," Quincey teased, letting a hand caress her cheek, then forcing a kiss on her.

Frank took a step forward, fuming.

"Careful Holloway..."

"Frank.... Don't..."

"Concerned for ya partner, Goldtein? Good.. You!" he commanded to the thugs in the doorway, "leave us! I will deal with them by myself..."

He smiled as they left.

"Just the three of us again then.. Goldstein! Here!" he pushed her towards Frank, tossing a pair of handcuffs at her.

"Handcuff him to that pipe! I want him to watch me doin it to ya.. again and again..."

Frank felt his heart sink. He couldn't watch, couldn't even imagine.. She was coming toward him with her eyes lowered, he could see Quincey=92s gun squarely pointed at her. Two agonizing seconds, then she was standing in front of him and lifted her eyes to let their stares link.

She was pissed, he realized.

"Kiss me," she mouthed.

He just stared at her.

"Kiss me," she mouthed again, "then go for the gun."

He hesitated only a second, lifting his had to her cheek, stroking it gently, then pulling her face to his.

It was everything but a gentle kiss, and Frank could hear Quincey shifting a bit, and so he deepened the kiss, knowing what message he was sending.

She is mine, you bastard!

"Hey.. enough.. no.. no, no, no! She's mine!" and with that Quincey moved forward, to tear his prize away.

They acted within seconds. Frank hit is arm, making him drop the gun, and Rachel hammered her fists into Quincey's torso, making the gig man grunt with both surprise and pain.

"Nice punch!" Frank threw at her. She grinned back

Rachel and Frank scrambled for the door before Quincey started to recover his composure and go for the gun, they ran outside into the thick bush, wondering how the heck they got to be so far out into the bush in the first place. Thick bushes blocked their path and gums shaded the moon from their eyes, making it hard to see exactly which way they were running. They ran blindly for what seemed like hours in the direction of what they thought was civilasation, but were actually ending up further into the heart of the bush. Rachel stopped suddenly, hearing a noise she motioned for Frank to stop beside her while she tried ot make out what the sound was.

*thump thump thump* footsteps.

"Oh Shit" Frank muttered as they plowed even further into the darkness. They continued to run, tripping over branches and ruts, stumbling into each other occasionly, and finally making it out onto a road. Turning again Rachel glanced back behind them, she heard nothing. They had lost the oath of a man who was intent on killing them

But were the heck were they?

Following the road, it had to lead somewhere after all, they walked for some hours, and it soon became painfully clear to Frank that Rachel was in bad shape. She was stumbling forward, her eyes almost closing by themselves.

"Goldie.. How about some sleep?" he asked, and she shot a mock glare at him.

"You're kiddin, right?"


"He's likely to be in pursuit, Frank."

"He can't see a thing at night. You need sleep, in this state you're no use. Besides, I'll keep watch."

"No way!"

"Either that or I carry you."

"You wouldn't...!"

"I would!"


Jack let his gaze wander to her desk again, and surely, the feeling that he had overlooked something. Somewhere there was the key, the key to finding her.

Again and again he saw Rachel being taken from him, by that petty bastard of a womanizer.. Womanizer...

There it was. Hurriedly he searched her desk, locating Quincey's file and opening it.

The man had been a rich bastard prior to his arrest, owning several companies and factories. Including a women's clothing factory, now closed down, named "Women's Pleasure".

That had to be it


They'd found a nice resting place by a tree, with excellent view over the surrounding area. She was still pissed that he'd made her get some sleep, he could tell, but as he was making it comfortable for her, she seemed to forgive him.. until they'd get back, then she would deck him for it.

But she was freezing where she laid, he could tell. The last thing he needed was for her to get sick.



"Come on, just put my jacket on. I don't need it, but you do. You're freezin."

"No," she snapped.

"It's either that or we hafta share body heat."

She glared at him, debating whether he meant it or not.

"Fine. I'll take it1" she finally replied, and let him cover her with it, hearing him chuckle softly. As soon as he'd put the jacket on her, she turned her back to him. For a while he was content just looking at her.

"Sure ya rather not share body heat?" he asked after a while.

"You're such a jerk, Holloway," came the immediate reply, but he detected a bit of warmth in it.

And so he risked moving a bit forward, his chest to her back. She Didn't move.

A little more daring now, he moved closer, finally resting his chin on her head and with an arm around her waist.

Amazing enough, she still hadn't decked him.

"Try anything and you're in a world of hurt Francis Holloway," she muttered after a few seconds of silence. He chuckled into her hair, and after a while he realized from her steady breathing that she was sleeping.


He woke her a few hours later, just as daylight won over the last darkness of night.

"Rach? Rach? It's almost daylight, we should get goin if we wanna get outta here..."

She shifted a bit in his arms.


"Yeah, yeah..."

"Ya know the guys at work ain't gonna believe me when I tell them ya slept in my arms.."

That woke her up, for she turned a bit to look him in her eyes.

"Tell them about this, and you'll wanna go sailing off again," she replied, but regretted as soon as the words were out her mouth. He rolled away from her, getting up and avoiding her stare.

"Frank?" she asked, but got no reply.

"Frank, I..."

"Not know Goldie. Later."

"Later," she agreed. Getting up, they could see city lights glimmer far away, at the end of the road.

"It'll be a long walk," he pointed out.

"Ya can tell me about Brisbane," she offered, and he grinned.

"Oh yeah.. Brisbane's got some sheilas, I tell ya..."


They were halfway there when the sound of an engine grew closer. Quickly ducking out of sight, Rachel was the first to peak up at the oncoming car. She stared at in disbelief for a few seconds, then a grin emerged.

"It's Jack!" she exclaimed, getting up and waving wildly.

"Oh great..."

"Behave, Francis!"

The car stopped dead as soon as Jack saw them.


"Jack, you got no idea how glad we are to see ya!" She could hear Frank snicker behind her, but completely ignored it.

Jack got out of the car, and she started walking toward him, convinced the nightmare was over.