A fictional work based on the tv series 'Without a Trace'
Rating: PG-17 (Language, violence)
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the show or characters. This story is for entertainment purposes only, without profit or gain of any kind.
Note: This is not really a fanfic, it doesn't have all the necessary ingredients (but one of those is in the works). However, I love Halloween so I couldn't resists a ficlet of what happens when our two favorite F.B.I agents are coming home on a dark road during a storm on Halloween night — screeching brakes, a little blood, a steep hill, and refuge during a wicked storm in an old house- that just happens to be haunted.
"I see the bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin'.
I see bad times today."
John Fogerty, CCR,
'Bad Moon Rising'
Green River Album
1969
Jack Malone eyed the empty office outside of his window and frowned. Normally, the place was a hub of activity. Vivian had the day off; she and Marcus had been to wedding in North Carolina over the weekend. Sam left early to prepare for her Halloween party and Taylor and Fitzgerald were in New England testifying at a trial. Several months earlier while interviewing a witness, they'd witnessed a bank robbery and held the felons until the police arrived.
He went back to his work, ignoring the hands on the clock. Since his kids moved away, Halloween had lost its appeal. When they were little, he'd always come home early to help them dress up and take them trick-or-treating. He didn't want to be in the empty apartment handing out candy to someone else's kids, especially well intentioned neighbors who offered that sympathetic nod and pat on the arm. No, he was better here, buried in his work. He looked up when he heard someone opening the cabinet under the coffee mess. Craning his neck, he was still unable to see who was outside, so he left his desk and walked into the outer office. A familiar blond head was peering inside the cabinet.
"Boy, you are hard up, stealing plastic spoons and Coffeemate."
"French Vanilla," Chris Boone corrected, standing with two containers of the sweet creamer.
"French Vanilla," Jack repeated, wrinkled his nose in distaste and shook his head. "What no bon-bons to go with that?"
"For my thermal mug, one for the road. I got two ballistic reports to drop off and evidence at the D.A's office before I pick my costume up. Speaking of which, where's your costume?" Chris moved past the scowling figure and into his office.
"Walk right in, Chris, never mind my privacy," Jack groused, watching the handsome blond man peeking inside the closet. "It's a secret."
"You're full of shit, Malone, you forgot, didn't you?" Boone teased, his pale green eyes lit up in mirth. "Sam's gonna be pissed."
"It's none of your fuckin' business," Malone shut the door and shoved the grinning body away. "And I happen to have a very good costume," he chased back.
"Bullshit," Chris laughed as the strong hand propelled him into the outer office. "Okay, I'm going." He paused and saw Jack appraising him and wondering. "Cassanova." He thumped his chest and winked.
Jack chuffed, shook his head and grimaced. "It figures, tight-assed black pants and a faggoty shirt with the buttons undone."
"I got a reputation to maintain," Chris defended, heading for the hallway.
Jack was still grinning when he turned back to eye the empty office. It wasn't that he'd forgotten about getting a costume, he'd just kept putting it off. He thought of digging out his old army uniform but it wouldn't fit anymore. He could put on his FBI sweat suit and go as a jogger, but he didn't have a clean one. Chris was right in that Sam wouldn't be happy, the party was to raise money for a colleague whose child had cancer and the treatments were expensive and not covered by his insurance. So everyone was coming. Sighing, he headed for the coffee mess to lock it up when he got an idea and smiled.
"Problem solved," he noted happily.
While his partner was devouring a thick steak with sauteed onions, Martin Fitzgerald eyed the new night sky with apprehension. The storm clouds above coupled with the wind kicking up and the temperature dropping spelled trouble. Although the local forecast didn't contain any mention of a storm, something he was grateful for. With any luck, they'd be back in New York in a few hours. He turned back to the table as Taylor's voice broke the silence.
"Man, I can't believe I'm gonna miss Sam's party," Danny moaned of the masquerade party Sam was hosting at a midtown hotel. "Me and Lola had it all worked out, a theme thing."
"Lola?" Martin chuckled, dipping a hunk of crusty bread into the thick, rich, beef stew.
"She new? What happened to Amoroso?"
"Amour-Rose," Danny corrected, tossing a wadded up napkin at his partner. "Amoroso is a roll. Anyway, she's history. I met Lola at the library and..."
"The library?" Martin choked, reaching for his water.
"Yeah, what's so funny about that?" Taylor's brows furrowed in annoyance. "I happen to enjoy the printed word."
"I didn't realize they had a section for R-rated comic books there," Fitzgerald tossed back. "So what were you really doing in a library?"
"My wheels died and it was cold as hell, I called for a tow but they were going to be late. So I ducked inside the place to catch some heat." Danny grinned and winked. "And there she was, like Fate stepped in and guided me up those stairs."
"Here comes my dinner back up." Martin predicted, "So what's this idea you came up with?"
"Catwoman and Batman." Danny forked the last remaining piece of meat and picked up the steak sauce, dosing the tender bit, "She found this hot, leather outfit, a micro mini skirt and slick boots, I mean it looks like it was painted on."
"You in a cape? Sorry, I don't see that at all," Martin answered, reaching for his coffee.
"Cape? Who said anything about a cape?" Danny grinned and wagged his eyebrows. "Leather pants, a spiked collar and cuffs with little chains... you know he's her prisoner."
"Leather and handcuffs." Martin shook his head as the waitress headed their way. "Things sure have gone to hell in Gotham City."
"Anything I can get for you, handsome?" the waitress purred, leaning on the table facing him.
"No, thanks, just the check," Martin answered with a heart-melting smile.
"Hey, what about me?" Danny called back after the peroxide haired, slightly chubby waitress.
"What about you?" Fitzgerald deadpanned, pulling out his wallet.
"Well, maybe I'd like some dessert." Taylor frowned and leaned over, "Besides, she can't be that blind, I mean that Huckleberry Finn shit you got only goes so far. Me, I'm the real deal."
"Hey now, don't get your batskivvies in a bunch." Martin dropped some bills on the table. "I gotta hit the head, I'll meet you at the car."
"Blind as a bat," Danny soured as both waitresses halted his blue-eyed partner on the way to the men's room to say something to him. "Women, I'll never figure them out."
The atmosphere of the colorful crowd matched the bright decor in the crowded room. Costumed partygoers of every size and shape were wining, dining and dancing. Sam had to smile at Chris Boone, who looked as dashing in his form-fitting costume as the original. Any female within range was looking at him or moving in for the kill. Her smile widened when she saw the handsome blond dancing with a very attractive brunette in a catwoman costume. Somewhere on the interstate, Danny Taylor would be eating his heart out. The music changed and Chris led the young lady to a table and flagged down a waitress, scooping a glass of red wine from the tray. Handing it to her, he whispered to her and then stood up, then headed Sam's way.
"True to form," Sam toasted and chuckled as 'Casanova' kissed her cheek.
"Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets," Chris toasted of the well-known expression. "You look great, Cleopatra." He leaned in and winked, 'How 'bout you and me taking a long ride up the Nile?"
"What about Lola?" she asked.
"And Gabrielle," Chris noted of his date, a stunning redhead dressed as a courtesan. "Foursome?" he posed and she laughed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, well, can't blame a guy for trying. Shame Martin and Danny had to miss this; you throw a helluva party, Sunshine."
"Thanks," she replied and saw a worn looking man with a wrinkled suit and a very tired face approaching. "Another country heard from."
"Original, Jack," Boone noted of the body in the same suit he'd left him in earlier. "A gravedigger, nice."
"I got a costume!" Jack defended, stealing the beer from the amused blond team leader's hand. He frowned at the snug pants tucked into black boots.
"An overworked, rumpled FBI agent doesn't count, Jack," Sam corrected. "I can't believe you forgot."
"I got a costume," Malone repeated, taking a swig of the cold beer. "It's not my fault if either of you stellar investigators can't figure it out. Talk about my tax dollars being wasted on federal bums like you." He saw both perplexed faces and stole a handful of peanuts from the tray on the bar. "Lord Tetley," he proclaimed and Boone began to laugh.
"Huh?" Sam narrowed her eyes suspiciously as Jack tapped his breast pocket. There hanging over the edge was the blue tag from a Tetley tea bag. "Oh my God, Jack, that's lame."
"Clever," Jack corrected and tried to hide his grin from Boone, who'd kept laughing, "You and the Love God are just jealous."
"The Love God," the handsome blond repeated, nodding. "I like that, speaking of which," he paused to kiss Sam's hand, "my fair queen, I have to leave your beauty behind, my ladies await me."
"Ladies?" Jack quizzed and watched the tall lean body move through the room. The right hand shot up with two fingers raised in triumph. Jack grinned and held up his beer in tribute. "And the night is still young."
"Shame the boys had to miss this," Sam noted, "I know Martin was really looking forward to it. Have they checked in?"
"Yeah," Jack said, moving with the Queen of the Nile towards the buffet. He got some roast beef, meatballs and pasta and sat down at an empty table. "Danny called a little while ago from a diner, they were leaving for home."
"He might have well stayed there," Sam chuckled, pointing to Chris who was dancing with catwoman.
"Who's that? I thought his date was the red head... a treasury agent?"
"Gabrielle," Sam filled in nodding to the pretty redhead on the other side of the room, "She is, that's Lola. She was supposed to meet Danny here." She grinned and elbowed Jack. "You know how chivalrous Chris is..."
"Yeah, that's him, a real knight," Malone laughed. "The guy's got talent; I'll give him that."
"And looks, charm and personality..." Sam added and picked up the Tetley tag. "But he doesn't have a title and a castle."
"Damn straight," Jack saluted with his beer.
With every passing mile on the dark road, Danny got more worried. What had started a couple hours ago as a fierce rain storm had progressed into a dangerous icy mix. The roads were freezing up, the wind was wicked and he was struggling to navigate the winding road. The heat blasting from the vents made him glad they weren't outside in this surprise storm. Driving was slower, they'd covered only about half the ground they normally would have. Martin had dozed off about an hour ago. He should wake him up to take over, but he knew Fitzgerald had been up late working on a pending file.
The D.A. in New York needed the information by eight a.m. and the cold had gotten the best of him. His partner had decided to do the report himself; allowing him to chug-a-lug cold medicine and hit the hay early. He'd woken briefly at 3 a.m. in a coughing fit and Fitzgerald was still working. So he wasn't surprised that the weary man had dozed off, between the swish of the wipers and the heat coming out of the vent, it was easy.
Martin's slumber was interrupted when the car suddenly began to spin, causing his head to hit the side window He blinked and his eyes went wide with fear when the car spun completely around before stopping. He was still braced with both hands against the dashboard, when they finally stopped. Once his heart resumed, he allowed himself to breathe again and turned to the stricken driver.
"Hey man, you okay?" he asked and noted the white-knuckled fingers gripping the wheel.
The anxious dark eyes were fixed and the lack of breathing was alarming. "Take a breath, Danny, we're okay. Danny? You with me?" Martin snapped his fingers.
"Sorry," Danny gasped and blinked, watching as if in slow motion as Martin tried to pry his wrist loose. He elbowed the intrusive hand away and put the car in park. He looked out the side window and his heart nearly stopped, there were only a few feet until the road dropped off severely. He dropped his hands and laid his head back on the headrest, covering his face with his hands.
"Danny?" Martin questioned and saw the headlights on the road, now slick with ice. Then he saw the digital numbers on the clock, over an hour had passed. "Why didn't you wake me? When did this start?" He didn't miss the fact that his partner looked awful; the scratchy voice had gotten worse and the eyes were red-rimmed from the cold.
"I dunno, a half-hour ago maybe. I couldn't stop, I got no traction," Taylor mumbled, taking a shaky breath. "Jesus, Martin, I almost put us over the edge..."
"Okay, get out, I'll take over, you should have woken me up." Fitzgerald unbuckled his belt. He didn't miss the trembling hands just under the steering wheel.
"It wasn't bad until the last ten miles or so, it's really dicey," Danny called out as he headed out the door and cautiously proceeded around the other side.
"Where are we?" Martin peered ahead as he slowly started the car and crept along the icy road.
"Off course in the moutains somewhere, the interstate closed, a Semi jackknifed and three cars hit it, it's a mess, closed indefinitely. I got off at the first exit."
"Okay, we'll try to find a hotel or something; there's gotta be something on this road." Martin hoped.
Martin tried to keep a positive attitude as he slowly made his way down the very narrow road. It was black as pitch and the ice was getting worse. He wasn't sure how much longer he could control the car. The rear wheels had fishtailed several times already. He sighed in frustration when he realized the pain slamming into his head was one of his migraines. He felt sick and was having trouble keeping his eyes open. The dim light seemed to hurt them and he gagged a couple times. He hated to wake Danny up but he had to pull over, he was going to vomit or pass out, if not both. Suddenly, the darkness ahead was pierced by a blinding white light. Actually it was a pair of large headlights of a truck and it was heading right for them.
"Shit! Shit!"
"What?" Danny's shoulders jerked as his eyes opened, widening in terror. "Martin look out!" he screamed as the car left the road in a echo of squealing brakes, horns and metal hitting metal.
"Shit, aw shit," Fitzgerald hissed, his heart hammering so hard in his chest that he felt sure it would spike on a rib. "Brace yourself, Danny!" He grit his teeth as the car continued down a rocky hill until it rested against a tree. The only sound was the howling wind and a flash of lighting which sent a blue light through the cracked windshield giving the unmoving occupants an unearthly gray pallor.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
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