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Prompt: Note to Self: Don't Get Kidnapped
"Note to self," Charlie thought wryly, "don't get kidnapped."
Of course, that was easy in theory. It was a lot harder in practice, especially when he was actively in the back of a van headed to who-knew-where.
And he was alone, which made things infinitely worse. He couldn't count on Rex leaping out on their captors the minute one of them opened the door.
At the thought of his partner, a flash of worry sparked through Charlie's chest, competing with the tightness already gripping it at the enclosed space where he'd woken to find himself. He might not feel as trapped if he'd actually been able to move. But his arms were pinned behind his back with several layers of duct tape— too tight to budge, he'd tried. And his feet were bound in a similar fashion. His attempts to loosen his bonds had been unsuccessful and had only left him sweating and panting, his lungs burning as he tried to pull in enough air through his nose, the duct tape over his mouth hindering his air intake.
"Okay, just breathe, Charlie," he told himself. "You're fine. You'll figure out a way out of this."
Whoever had grabbed him had thrown a pile of something over him— he was 98% sure it was a pile of tarps and canvas dropcloths —that was pressing down on him and made it feel like the world was closing in on him. The situation reminded him way too much of the time he'd woken in a pine box underground, and those memories— how confined the space had been, how it had felt running out of air —were threatening to overwhelm him. Charlie swallowed hard against the rising panic. The distinct taste of bile was in the back of his throat, and that was the absolute last thing he needed at the moment.
Clenching his jaw, Charlie forced himself to take a deep breath through his nose. He needed to focus, focus… he wasn't in a box again. He was in a predicament, sure, but he was well above the ground. He could feel the rumbling of the vehicle underneath him as the van continued moving. Okay, that was something. Of course, he couldn't exactly track their route since he had been unconscious for the first part of it. He couldn't say for sure how long they'd been driving or what turns they'd made, but he could at least focus on any distinctive sounds, smells, how the road felt as the van rumbled over it… all things he could use to get back to his team later.
The thought of his partner again sprang to mind, and Charlie realized he had no idea where Rex was. The last thing he remembered… wait, he couldn't actually recall. There was a jumble of hazy memories and troubling gaps when he tried to think back to earlier that day. Charlie frowned, trying to focus his thoughts and then winced at the way the pounding in his head grew with every try. He took another deep breath and again attempted to recollect anything about what had happened. He'd been working a case, trying to track down a murderer who had so far eluded identification, and had spent a late night poring over the case file. But then somewhere between Joe sending him home for some rest and getting to his house, Charlie's memory seemed to fail. Had he even made it to his car?
The pounding in his head had continued to build and was now at a nearly unbearable level. Charlie squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for some small relief. He needed to be able to think straight if he hoped to put a plan together to get out of his predicament.
But then, suddenly, the squealing of tires from somewhere outside filled the air. A split second later, Charlie was thrown forward as the driver of the van slammed on the brakes.
He could do nothing to catch himself and let out a muffled growl of pain as he slammed into something hard and unforgiving as the vehicle came to a rocking stop.
There were shouts outside the van, although at first, Charlie couldn't make out any distinct words. He tensed, trying to hear what was being said. His mind was racing, part of him wondering just how worried he needed to be about whatever was unfolding just outside.
But then, more shouts, and he suddenly recognized one raised above the others.
"Last chance! Drop your weapons!"
Joe.
Charlie felt relief surge through him, and it grew exponentially at a very familiar sound that he knew meant it was all going to be okay: the distinctive bark of his partner.
A series of thumps and growls followed, the van shaking at an impact, and Charlie grinned to himself. He could just imagine Rex taking down the driver of the van who hadn't heeded Joe's orders.
"Charlie? Hey, Charlie, you in there?"
"Yes, just can't exactly respond," Charlie thought grimly. He renewed his attempts to loosen the tape around his wrists, but it wouldn't give. The tarp over him seemed to be twisted up around his feet, and he couldn't get clear of it. It just settled in more closely around his face the more he moved, which sent more tendrils of panic shooting through his already aching chest.
"Charlie!" Joe's next shout was closer to the van now, sounding like it was just on the other side of the van, followed by the back doors rattling as the superintendent tried to pull them open. "Don't worry, Charlie; we've got you. Hey!" he added, and his volume changed as if he was now facing away from the van. "Somebody get the keys and get this open!"
And then metal squeaked and daylight filtered in through the material around Charlie's face.
"Find Charlie, Rex!"
Toenails clicked on metal as Rex leaped into the van, and Charlie could hear the shepherd sniffing intently.
It didn't take long for Rex's snuffling to stop abruptly at Charlie's position. The dog barked sharply, alerting Joe he'd found what he was looking for. And then Rex began pawing at the layers of material covering his partner, letting out short quiet growls of concentration as he worked at uncovering Charlie.
A moment later, a dark snout nosed under the edge of the tarp, a most welcome sight after Charlie had been trapped under the thing for so long.
Rex's ears went back even farther, and he wriggled with excitement as his eyes met Charlie's. His tongue darted in and out, his eager movements to get to his partner dislodging the tarp even before Joe pulled it off the rest of the way.
"Hey, Charlie," Joe breathed, the relief evident in his voice. "Just hang on. I've got you."
The van shifted as the superintendent climbed up into the back and moved to come alongside his detective. Charlie could hear the soft snick of a knife opening just before he felt pressure at his wrists.
"You gave us quite a scare there," Joe was saying as he worked at the tape, but Charlie only registered about every fifth word as Joe explained what had happened and how they'd tracked him down.
His head was still pounding, his chest was tight and aching, and everything was fading in and out around him. Sirens wailed from somewhere close by, yet somehow also far away.
He flinched in surprise and pain when the strip of tape over his mouth was ripped off. It definitely had taken some hair with it; Charlie just hoped the loss wouldn't be too noticeable.
"Sorry, sorry," Joe apologized quickly, and Charlie briefly felt a hand on his cheek. "Just lie still, Charlie. Help is on the way."
A warm weight settled on Charlie's chest then— furry, familiar, and comforting. Rex laid his head down with a small whine, and Charlie blinked down to see the shepherd with his eyes locked on Charlie's face.
The look in the dog's eyes seemed to say he'd never let Charlie out of his sight now that they were reunited, and Charlie felt a weary smile cross his face.
No matter what else happened, he knew Rex had his back.