cainesugar
Coroner
Title: What Brought You Back
Pairing: H/Y
Author: Myself, Lilly
Ch/1shot: This will have installments, but not too many. It's a shorter story.
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: Miami or it's characters. I wish I did, because Horatio and Yelina would have made it to the bedroom before season 2.
Author's Note: This is just something I thought up, because you all know how much I love hurting my characters. Yes, I am terribly homicidal when it comes to my stories. :lol:
Horatio was working late that night. Late nights were some of the best times to get overflowing paperwork done. The lab was quiet and nearly empty, and radiated peacefulness. Horatio smiled at his desk, gazing out at the lab. His lab. The few people left were closing down and heading out, the night shift moving in and out into the field.
By midnight, he was nearly alone. The night shift was probably at a crime scene, the day shift sleeping, and his paperwork close-to finished. The quiet hum of the lab equipment filled his ears, and when he heard the unmistakable click of a gun cocking, his hand was fast to his holster.
He stood up and looked around the lab, his gun drawn.
“Who’s there?” he said, his voice shaky. That was the part of nights he didn’t like- the eeriness of it. It was dark, and he as pretty sure he wasn’t alone, but he felt it. The shadows seemed to crawl closer and devour him…
Five long, agonizing minutes passed. Horatio kept his gun out, and walked around the lab, checking to make sure he was alone. He thought of calling for backup, but he realized he really didn’t have much to go on. It was late, and a whole bunch of sounds could imitate a gun. It was just his paranoia and experience as a cop that alerted him.
Feeling relieved, he returned to his paperwork. Soon it was finished, and he felt silly for ever thinking something was wrong. Imagine if his team saw him- afraid of the dark. Pulling his gun at a perfectly natural, explainable sound. He laughed at this, and exited the crime lab, making his way to his Hummer.
Just as he was about to open the door, the click came back. It was a gun cocking, and it was close. He didn’t move for ten seconds, where he stood, frozen, at the door of his Hummer. Then he whipped out his gun and turned around.
The wind rustled, and a few leaves blew by. He was completely alone in the middle of the crime lab parking lot, with his gun drawn.
He cursed, and turned back around to get into his car.
He felt a piece of damp cloth come around his nose and mouth. Immediately he began to struggle, and reached for his gun, but it wasn’t there. He could make out it’s outline on the ground, and his attacker’s shadow from behind him. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs were on fire, he couldn’t fight, and he was growing dizzy. His vision blurred, and finally his body went limp into his attacker’s arms, and the world went dark…
Horatio awoke to the feeling of wetness. It was everywhere- his face was wet and dripping, his chest was soaked, his hands felt damp, and he could feel the warm, sticky substance dripping down them.
Blood.
He was tied to a chair with his ankles and hands bound, his hands behind him, and he’d been gagged. He’d been stripped to his dress shirt and boxers, and cut on his forearms, forehead, and chest. The blood was fresh, and some caked beneath. He could estimate he’d been out cold for about seven hours, based on how the cuts had bled.
Horatio looked around. He was in a small, dark room, and probably in the center of it. The little light that shone through was from a high, small window to his left. He guessed he was in a warehouse, but couldn’t be sure. It was about 7am, the sun having just peeked up, and the window gave no hint to where he was. His cell phone, gun and holster were gone.
He tried to wriggle free, but the ropes binding him were tight. Eventually he was able to tip the chair over, which resulted in smashing his head against the concrete. He was stuck sideways, with his head bleeding and his hair wet and sticky.
About an hour after he had awoken, a man dressed in khakis, a polo and a sweatshirt entered the room. He wore a ski-mask and carried two .45mm guns, one in each hand. He stood before Horatio and aimed the guns at his head. Horatio closed his eyes and waited to die.
His thoughts drifted off to who he'd miss. Of course his teammates, but one special person as well. He had bid her farewell recently, for her own safety, and now he would do anything to see her one last time. To tell her how he really felt, how he'd loved her for years, how he thought of her every second of every day, how he wanted to hold her in his arms, close to him...
Yelina, I love you...
TBC:..........
Pairing: H/Y
Author: Myself, Lilly
Ch/1shot: This will have installments, but not too many. It's a shorter story.
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: Miami or it's characters. I wish I did, because Horatio and Yelina would have made it to the bedroom before season 2.
Author's Note: This is just something I thought up, because you all know how much I love hurting my characters. Yes, I am terribly homicidal when it comes to my stories. :lol:
Horatio was working late that night. Late nights were some of the best times to get overflowing paperwork done. The lab was quiet and nearly empty, and radiated peacefulness. Horatio smiled at his desk, gazing out at the lab. His lab. The few people left were closing down and heading out, the night shift moving in and out into the field.
By midnight, he was nearly alone. The night shift was probably at a crime scene, the day shift sleeping, and his paperwork close-to finished. The quiet hum of the lab equipment filled his ears, and when he heard the unmistakable click of a gun cocking, his hand was fast to his holster.
He stood up and looked around the lab, his gun drawn.
“Who’s there?” he said, his voice shaky. That was the part of nights he didn’t like- the eeriness of it. It was dark, and he as pretty sure he wasn’t alone, but he felt it. The shadows seemed to crawl closer and devour him…
Five long, agonizing minutes passed. Horatio kept his gun out, and walked around the lab, checking to make sure he was alone. He thought of calling for backup, but he realized he really didn’t have much to go on. It was late, and a whole bunch of sounds could imitate a gun. It was just his paranoia and experience as a cop that alerted him.
Feeling relieved, he returned to his paperwork. Soon it was finished, and he felt silly for ever thinking something was wrong. Imagine if his team saw him- afraid of the dark. Pulling his gun at a perfectly natural, explainable sound. He laughed at this, and exited the crime lab, making his way to his Hummer.
Just as he was about to open the door, the click came back. It was a gun cocking, and it was close. He didn’t move for ten seconds, where he stood, frozen, at the door of his Hummer. Then he whipped out his gun and turned around.
The wind rustled, and a few leaves blew by. He was completely alone in the middle of the crime lab parking lot, with his gun drawn.
He cursed, and turned back around to get into his car.
He felt a piece of damp cloth come around his nose and mouth. Immediately he began to struggle, and reached for his gun, but it wasn’t there. He could make out it’s outline on the ground, and his attacker’s shadow from behind him. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs were on fire, he couldn’t fight, and he was growing dizzy. His vision blurred, and finally his body went limp into his attacker’s arms, and the world went dark…
Horatio awoke to the feeling of wetness. It was everywhere- his face was wet and dripping, his chest was soaked, his hands felt damp, and he could feel the warm, sticky substance dripping down them.
Blood.
He was tied to a chair with his ankles and hands bound, his hands behind him, and he’d been gagged. He’d been stripped to his dress shirt and boxers, and cut on his forearms, forehead, and chest. The blood was fresh, and some caked beneath. He could estimate he’d been out cold for about seven hours, based on how the cuts had bled.
Horatio looked around. He was in a small, dark room, and probably in the center of it. The little light that shone through was from a high, small window to his left. He guessed he was in a warehouse, but couldn’t be sure. It was about 7am, the sun having just peeked up, and the window gave no hint to where he was. His cell phone, gun and holster were gone.
He tried to wriggle free, but the ropes binding him were tight. Eventually he was able to tip the chair over, which resulted in smashing his head against the concrete. He was stuck sideways, with his head bleeding and his hair wet and sticky.
About an hour after he had awoken, a man dressed in khakis, a polo and a sweatshirt entered the room. He wore a ski-mask and carried two .45mm guns, one in each hand. He stood before Horatio and aimed the guns at his head. Horatio closed his eyes and waited to die.
His thoughts drifted off to who he'd miss. Of course his teammates, but one special person as well. He had bid her farewell recently, for her own safety, and now he would do anything to see her one last time. To tell her how he really felt, how he'd loved her for years, how he thought of her every second of every day, how he wanted to hold her in his arms, close to him...
Yelina, I love you...
TBC:..........
