A CSI Miami FanFic
Horatio gets hurt by some nasty bad guys, but his team saves him, and Calleigh has her own ideas of how to comfort him… Headed towards being a Horatio/Calleigh romance.
Rated M for graphic violence and future chapters of explicit content…
I don't own any characters from CSI Miami, I just borrow them on occasion…
Horatio was shoved roughly along by his two captors, an old enemy by the name of Antonio Cruz, and another large bear of a man whose name he didn't know. They stopped in a large room at the back of an old warehouse.
Cruz turned and stood in front of Horatio, the gun he was holding steadily aimed at Horatio's chest. "Take off your jacket and your shirt," he ordered. The Lieutenant didn't move.
"Now!" He demanded, the sound of his booming voice echoing across the huge metal walls.
Horatio merely glared at him.
"If you're going to kill me Cruz," Horatio snarled, "then just do it. Right here, right now. You are already going back to prison for kidnapping and assaulting a police officer. So either pull the trigger, or give up. You are not going to get any twisted satisfaction from me."
The malicious grin that spread across his captor's face was insanely unnerving, but Horatio didn't flinch when Cruz walked over and stood within inches of Horatio's face.
"You see, Lieutenant Caine, that's where you are very, very wrong," he sneered. "I am definitely going to kill you, but I decide when and where. And as far as assault," he paused and chuckled softly, "I'm just getting warmed up. And I am going to get a great deal of satisfaction from you before you die."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small syringe. Flipping the cap off of the needle, he added, "By tonight, if you survive that long, you will be begging me to kill you."
Then a command to the big man standing behind Horatio, "Hold him."
Horatio struggled against the large man's iron bear hug, but the small needle was stuck into his neck in a flash, and within seconds the room was spinning and everything nearly faded to black. He was barely conscious as he felt his body slump into the arms of the grizzly bear holding him, and was only vaguely aware of his jacket and shirt being hastily removed.
Still struggling to maintain consciousness, Horatio was powerless to fight his captors. He was quickly hauled across the room. His wrists were wrapped heavily in rope, then attached to a large chain pulley hook hanging right in front of him. The chain was hauled upwards, stretching his body and his bare torso taut, pulling his arms up over his head until just the balls of his shoes were the only things barely touching the floor. His head lolled forward slightly and he grimaced as his wrists were suddenly asked to bear nearly the entire weight of his body.
"Wake up, Lieutenant," Cruz said in a rather singy-songy voice. There was another sharp sting on his neck and a new drug flashed through his system, this one instantly clearing the cobwebs away and snapping his brain back into full alert mode…. And beyond.
"Very good, yes," Cruz purred, "that's better. Much better." He twiddled the syringe in his fingers, still eyeing his captive. "That should keep you awake for a while."
Horatio's body was stretched to the point that it was difficult to get any large quantity of air into his lungs, and he struggled to try and get his breathing under control. He could feel his pulse rate quicken, and all his senses felt super sharp, every nerve ending beginning to tingle and hum like a high-tension wire.
Cruz stood there and watched him for a few minutes before a satisfied smile slowly came to his face. "Good, you're feeling it…"
Pleased that his captive was succumbing to the effects of the heightened sensitivity drug, Cruz went and got something from the corner of the room, and brought it back, showing it to Horatio like a proud father would show off a new son. It looked like the top half of a good fly-fishing rod. Maybe 6 feet long, slightly tapered, and about ½" thick. Small, long thin cords wrapped tightly together which made the whole thing very flexible, but strong too.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked proudly. "Hmm, no? Well, Let me tell you. It is a reed whip. It was used centuries ago for punishment in my country. Sadly, it was eventually considered to brutal and cruel, and was phased out of use. But I have studied the art, as has my good friend there, and I have hand-crafted this one just for you my dear Lieutenant."
He walked over and laid the whip in a long metal tub filled with water. Soaking the reeds not only kept the thin reed fibers flexible, it also added a healthy sting when contacting skin. Cruz could barely contain himself. He would finally have his revenge against the great Horatio Caine. Retribution was at hand. Since being sent to prison, his life had completely fallen apart, and he had lost everything. And all he had done was shoot a couple people for shortchanging him on a cocaine deal. It was just business. But Caine had made it his personal mission to put him away. Things had not gone well while he was inside, and his entire little empire had been reduced to nothing. Well, now it was time for the self-righteous cop to pay up. With his life. But first, Cruz was going to have some fun, and teach him a lesson. A serious lesson in pain.
He walked back over in front of his soon to be victim once more. "And now, it's time for you to be punished. Time for you to pay for what you did to me, my family, my crew. You ruined my life. So I'm going to take yours. But first, you are going to learn what real pain is. And yes, I am going to immensely enjoy watching every single second of your misery."
He nodded to the big man, who went over and retrieved the whip from the water bath. Horatio heard a light swish and then a sharp crack, and felt a fiery explosion of intense pain.
The first blow landed squarely across his lower back, right above his belt. The force was nearly enough to knock him off his feet, and had his body not been suspended from above, he probably would have fallen over. The slender bundle of wet reeds didn't break the skin, but raised a bright crimson red welt across his back where it had struck. His captor then began a tortuously slow but steady rhythm, and every blow that landed was just as brutally forceful.
Cruz sat down on a chair across the room in front of him and lit a cigarette, and sat there smoking it, watching the beating with an evil gleam of pleasure in his eyes. The only sound in the room was the steady swish and crack of the reeds falling on his back over and over and over…
Horatio tried to stay silent, not to give them the satisfaction of hearing him vocalize his pain, and did so rather valiantly for quite a while. But a full 45 minutes later, his back was a crisscross of angry thick red welts and hot searing pain, heightened by the drug Cruz had given him, and Horatio couldn't keep quiet any longer. He never screamed, but the wicked wet reeds pulled tortured sounds of agony from him every time the hellacious weapon struck home. The reeds finally began cutting into his hyper-sensitive skin, drawing blood, and the big man's rhythm never faltered.
After another 30 minutes of sadistic assault, Horatio was at his limit. His lungs were screaming for air, his body begging for a halt to the torture. His pain threshold was off the chart, and Horatio felt himself slipping mercifully into the blackness of unconsciousness. His head fell forward and his body slumped as he let the darkness take him. The rope bonds holding him tightened slightly as his wrists bore the full weight of his sagging body.
Another blow fell across his battered back, but he did not respond.
"Stop, you idiot," Cruz snarled. "Don't waste your energy. Can't you see he's passed out?"
He crushed out his cigarette and reached for a small leather bag. Pulling out another small syringe, he headed for the motionless red-head. "Time to wake him up again," he said with a grin.
But he never got that far. The door behind him exploded inwards, and a small flood of heavily armed people poured through it. "Miami Dade PD! Freeze!"
Cruz spun around and pulled his 9mm from his waistband. But he wasn't anywhere near fast enough. He raised the weapon up, but never got to squeeze the trigger. Shots rang out and three holes appeared in the center of his chest. He fell backwards in a heap on the floor.
At the same time, the big man on the other side of the room had dropped the whip, pulled his own gun, and made the same fatal mistake. The room was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder. The SWAT team fanned out, methodically clearing the building, opening up the view of the room to Calleigh and Eric. Calleigh was the first one to see Horatio, and the sight stunned her, stopping her in her tracks. She felt a knot tighten up in the pit of her stomach.
"Oh my God," she breathed, then headed directly for the helpless figure dangling from the rafters.
"Jesus," Eric said, right on her heels.
She put a hand up to Horatio's face, then slid her fingers down to his neck, feeling for a pulse. She found it. "Strong pulse, he's just unconscious," she said, relieved.
Eric hollered for an ambulance.
"Let's get him down," he said.
"Gently," Calleigh answered.
The two CSIs cradled their boss in their arms as the chain was slackened, easing his body down to the floor.
"Eric, I've got him, get his jacket," Calleigh said, holding Horatio's limp body in her arms. She cradled his head with one arm, making sure he could breathe, but she didn't want to lay his badly injured back on the filthy warehouse floor. Eric looked around and quickly located and retrieved Horatio's tailored suit coat, spreading it out underneath him. Calleigh gently began to lower him onto the silk fabric, when he let out a sharp grunt of pain. His calm features twisted into a mask of agony as the bonds of unconsciousness began to lose their grip on him. He was waking up…
"Horatio," Calleigh called to him. "Horatio, can you hear me? It's Calleigh."
Horatio's breathing rate picked up drastically, and he groaned loudly. He didn't want to wake up. He wanted to fade back into the black oblivion. He shifted slightly, causing a sharp stab of pain and he sucked in a breath of air with a hiss. Pain… pain, pain, pain, pain…. his mind was screaming, reeling with the sensory overload.
But then he heard her voice…
"Horatio," Calleigh called to him again, cupping one hand on his cheek. "You're safe, Horatio,"
He blinked his eyes open and looked up, and a wave of relief washed over him when he saw the lovely eyes of Calleigh Duquesne looking down at him, not the evil eyes of Antonio Cruz. But his back still felt like a block of molten lava laced with steel spikes, every nerve screaming for mercy, and it was threatening to drive every shred of sanity from him.
Unable to lie still, he shifted slightly, sending a fresh wave of overwhelming pain crashing through his body. He clenched his teeth and slammed his eyes shut.
"You just hang on Horatio," Calleigh said soothingly. "The ambulance is on the way. You're going to be OK." She tried to soothe and calm him, to try and give him something else to focus on while he laid there panting and grunting against the onslaught of his tormenting agony. She kept talking to him in low, soft soothing tones, holding his hand, gently touching his face. It made her heart break to see him in such incredible pain.
The siren in the distance got louder very quickly. Minutes later, Horatio Caine was sedated and thankfully slid back into unconscious bliss. He was carefully strapped to a gurney and loaded into the ambulance which rushed him to Miami Dade Memorial Hospital, closely followed by a silver Hummer with a pretty blond at the wheel.