The Pain in the Past : A CSI:MIAMI Fanfiction - Chapter 2 Rated M for Mature

Bang. The door slammed shut leaving Horatio in the dark. His thigh was throbbing, and his mouth was gagged. Horatio's bright, ocean blue eyes had already faded to a dull blue from stress. He could feel each little bump on the road, and each sent a stabbing pain through his body. Horatio was a CSI.

He knew what they told every kidnapped victim to do.

Quickly he examined his surroundings.

It was obvious he was in a car, and by the look of his enclosure, it was the trunk of a smaller car.

He tried to turn to see around him, but as he did he felt a seizing pain in his foot. Horatio tried to scream, but the gag in his mouth made it into a muffled moan. He never screamed, especially in pain. He had been through much worse then a broken ankle, but this injury coupled with bullet lodged in his thigh, and the pressing head ache he had, made each instance of pain that much worse. The car ride went on for a while and each passing moment Horatio thought of his team and of what they were doing. Had the sniper hit Ryan or Eric too? What was the team doing to find the murderer of the young lady they had found in the Gables? Where was Memmo?

Horatio never thought of himself. He had lost everything close to him other than his team, and now, his team was the only thing he cared about. His mind went to Eric and then to Marisol, his late wife. He thought of the children that they wanted. Then he thought about Memmo Fierro, and Antonio Riaz, as his mind filled with anger over Marisol.

 His trip down memory lane was soon cut short by a screeching stop from the car. He awaited the trunk to fly open, and it did seconds later.

The two men he saw blindfolded him and took him out of the car. The weight that was now on his foot made him fall to his knees, and he screamed, which again sounded like a muffled moan. The men spoke in Spanish.
 
"Consigue que el bastardo del piso. Es un hijo de puta débil." One man said. Horatio translated their words in his head 'Get that bastard off the floor. He's a weak son of a bitch.

  "Así que llevarlo en el otro coche. Antonio no será feliz si lo arruines. Este Horatio Caine, él es el que llevó Memmo." The other one said. 'Just get him in the other car. Antonio won't be happy if we mess this up. This is Horatio Caine, he's the one that took down Memmo.'

 Memmo, Horatio thought, the man that killed Marisol, his wife. The man whom he had just gotten word had escaped from prison, again, just that day. Was this who had staged the kidnapping? Horatio asked himself as the dragged to a car. He instinctively started to fight back, throwing punches, and the men began to play with him, taunting him. "Ven por nosotros nos H." Come get us, H. "¿Dónde está tu equipo para salvar su culo lo siento ahora?" Where's your team to save your sorry ass now? Horatio tried to fight back, but his inability to use his right leg made it impossible for him to move farther than the car. Soon the pain became to much to bare and he fell to the floor, screaming in pain. Tears formed in his eyes, but still not one fell from his eyes. The men began to kick and punch Horatio, putting him in even more pain. They stripped off his shirt and the remainder of his pants that they had partially removed to crudely bandage his gunshot wound. It did not take long for him to realize there were more then the two men that had taunted him, as three or four feet hit him at a time. As much as they kicked and punched at him, H. refused to pass out, enduring the most pain he had ever felt. All he could do was think about Marisol, Eric, Ryan, Calleigh, Natalia... His team. That was all that was important to him now. When they finally stopped, they put him into another car, still blindfolded. This car was obviously different. Horatio could move much easier, in a much larger and softer space. His felt a soft fleece fabric, which his bloody skin stuck to. Thoughts of what had gotten him here filled his mind. The dead girl in the Gables. They knew there was a Mella Noche connection. The women's purse contained a picture of her and a man with a trident tattoo, the symbol of the Mala Noche, displayed proudly across his chest. There had been trace on the girl that had led them to the warehouse, where they had found her blood. Horatio did not think about the car ride. He fell asleep, and his mind went to a much happier place. His dreams were about Marisol and the children they were planning to have. They had named them Eric, Helen, Calleigh, and Ryan. Helen after Horatio's mother, and the others after members of his team, who he already thought of as his own children. Horatio's mind was happy, and for now, that was all that mattered. Horatio awoke to the car breaking heavily almost throwing him into the partition, three feet in front of him. All of the pain that his sleep had taken away suddenly returned with the lurching of the car, but this time Horatio did not scream. For the first time in a long time, a small tear ran down from his eye and past his ear dripping on to the blindfold, which had fallen off, that lay beneath him. A tear, Horatio thought. He had not cried since Marisol's death, and there was a good reason. Horatio never cried, especially in front of people. He comforted those who had a reason to cry. Whether it was a victim, or a team member. Horatio was a rock for them, and he never let his emotions get in the way. The tear was symbolic, he knew that, but he was not going to let this tear break him. He was not going to let anything that these men, including Memmo, or any of the surrounding situation, break him. The door to the van swung open violently, and, for the first time, Horatio saw his captors. Two tall, Spanish men stood before him, looking down at him. One of the men was heavy-set, clean-shaven, and had a full head of hair. The other was slightly thinner then his counterpart, but was bald and brandished a goatee. Both men were shirtless and their skin proudly displayed many tattoos, including a trident, indicating both were members of the Mala Noche. They talked loudly while standing over Horatio, and he soon realized they did not know he could speak Spanish. The men had discussed the kidnapping. Through their conversation he had learned the heavy-set man's name was Havier and his counterpart's name was José. They discussed how well things had gone and how Memmo had been such a good shot. Memmo was the sniper, thought Horatio. His thoughts again went to his team. He knew Memmo would have jumped at the opportunity to shoot Eric and Ryan as well, and for Memmo's sake, Horatio hoped he had not. The men continued to talk about how Horatio had fought back. He heard Havier say that Horatio had taken a good chunk of skin out of him and how H.'s nail had been buried in his arm. This explained why his hand hurt at this point, his fingernail was gone. Havier went on to say that his wound was still bleeding, and he said he could not get it to stop bleeding. Once again the men looked down at Horatio, and addressed him. This time they spoke in English. "How's our little man?" José asked, taunting Horatio, but he did not respond. "Not gonna talk to us, huh?" Havier asked as put his foot up and stepped into the van. "Well, come on little guy. Let's go see daddy." José said as Havier grabbed Horatio underneath his arms which were bound by tape and wire and picked him up and brought him out of the car. They walked with Horatio for a couple of minutes through a large building. Each step hurt him more and more, and his ankle slowly began to go numb. Horatio noticed the many corridors and doors he walked past them. "An office building." Horatio mumbled. "Shut up" Havier yelled as he punched Horatio in the upper abdomen. "Unnh." Horatio winced as they now dragged him through a door into a large, fully enclosed room. The room looked like a torture chamber to say the least. There was chair bolted down and surrounded by a padded mat in the middle of the room. To the right of that was a box shaped frame with chains to hold a man by his arms and legs. Next to the frame a blow torch and a poker which Horatio recognized as one of the Mala Noche torture devices, a brander. In the back of the room behind chair was a bed with medal posts and a pair of hand-cuffs on all four corners, and in front of the room was a table filled with other torture devices. At the moment Horatio did not care what they were going to use any of the equipment in the room for. He just cared about the man standing about 4 feet in front of the chair, Memmo Fierro. Memmo looked just as he always had, bald with a goatee. He was also shirtless and proudly bore his trident surrounded several tattoos that went down his arms and his torso. "Hello, H." Memmo smirked as he looked in to Horatio's sunken eyes. "How are you today?" He motioned for the men to place Lieutenant Caine in the metal chair. They did so and Havier grabbed a chain from above the chair, as José took off his gag, and Horatio now sucked in every full breath he could take. The chain was dragged down to Caine's now unbound and handcuffed wrists. Havier attached the chain to the handcuffs and went to a chain wrapped around a pulley attached to the wall. José started to turn the pulley. "Wait!" said Havier as he walked to Horatio and looked at his feet. Memmo pulled two more pair of handcuffs from his waistband and handed them to Havier. He removed Horatio's socks and tauntingly, tickled his feet. Horatio flinched sending his ankle into a sneeringly painful whirlwind. "Ahhh." Hoartio screamed. This was the first time he could scream with out it being muffled and it echoed in the room. Havier continued to attach the handcuffs to his ankles and then to the chair legs. Memmo grabbed a rope from the table in front of the chair tied it tightly around Horatio's abdomen. "Are you ready, Lieutenant Caine?" Memmo said looking over towards the two men and another who had walked out of the shadows, but whose face Horatio could not see, "Are you ready for the best time of your life?" Memmo motioned for the men standing next to the pulley, and they started to turn the lever, pulling the chain that led to Horatio's handcuffs slowly an painfully bringing his arms up behind him. Horatio felt his shoulders pop out of socket and he screamed. The pain went on for a second, then everything went black.