Chapter Text
The snow had fallen steadily as they left the correctional facility, thick flakes blurring the windshield. Carisi wiped the fogged glass with his finger and watched the wipers struggle to keep up.
“So, pretty rough, huh?" Carisi said. "Looks like we might get stuck in this for a bit. Could be a while before we get home. You got any plans tonight? I mean, I was going to watch the game. Liverpool are playing."
Barba didn’t answer. He was hunched over in his seat, head slightly down, typing furiously on his Blackberry.
"You know, in England they call it football... football, not soccer.”
“Hmm.”
“And instead of baseball, they got this thing where they call it ‘rounders’-- I don't get the rules. And, uh, no one seems to really care. It’s mostly for kids, though.”
“Uh huh.”
“I was reading up on the games, and they all so weird." He squinted out the window. "Actually, do you think Quidditch is real?”
Barba’s eyes jumped up from the Blackberry for the briefest moment. He blinked and then went right back to his typing. "No, Carisi, I suspect the children of England do not actually fly on magical brooms.”
"Oh, I forgot about the flying part," said Carisi. "You know, in England, they call jam ‘jelly’."
Barba didn’t even acknowledge him this time. The Blackberry beeped again, but that was it.
"Hey, do you know-- fanny means something completely different in England? Like... not at all what we think it means here."
Barba sighed, loudly.
“And they call the first floor---”
"Carisi, please tell me how I can unsubscribe from this Buzzfeed video of mundane facts about England."
"Oh, I’m sorry! Am I not providing suitable entertainment on this round trip through the north pole while you kick back and play Candy Crush?"
“I’m not playing Candy Crush!" Barba snapped
Carisi smirked, glancing at him. "I don’t mean to dazzle you with my skill set, counselor, but I can crane my neck and see you’re on an embarrassing level 14."
Barba’s lips twitched slightly. "I only started playing it two months ago!"
"Oh, my God…"
Barba seemed to contemplate the idea of answering, but chose instead to mutter something under his breath before turning to the side, no longer interested in the conversation.
"You know what you should download?" Carisi pressed on. "Lemmings. That’s got me through many a stakeout. Classic."
"Glad to see my taxpayer dollars at work," Barba replied dryly, without looking up. "And it’s a myth, you know."
"What?"
"That Lemmings kill themselves. Walt Disney was at the top, kicking them all off."
Carisi blinked. "Well, I don’t think he personally--"
Barba snapped his fingers, interrupting him. "Total myth.
"Yeah, but the game isn’t.”
“But it’s a nonsense premise. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on it. Maligned little creatures being killed over and over. No wonder they turned to terrorism.”
“Terrorism?”
“They blow themselves up to- I don’t know --- move a ladder they don’t like anymore - their political ideology is unclear.”
Caris was starting to regret trying to get Barba to talk.
“You know you can just say it. I know you are still pissed.”
“I’m going to need you to be more specific, detective. Am I still pissed over the fact I just had drive --”
“I’m the one driving.”
“--to make a nonsense deal with an pathetic specimen of a creature because the DA wants to stay on Governor Rhodes christmas card list, or am I pissed because I have had to do it in a blizzard and therefore making it three times as long to get there and back or am I pissed because my Perillo shoes, that I just bought, got completely destroyed by snow the minute I stepped a foot out of this cat food tin you’ve glued wheels to?”
“Nah,” Carisi said. “I think it’s the other thing. What I said to Coe.”
“Oh, that,” said Barba flatly.
“I wasn’t trying to undermine you, counselor.” Carisi sneaked a glance over at Barba who was staring outside the window, phone forgotten in hand. “But he threatened you.”
“And he was chained to a table, currently incarcerated and has the IQ of a green crayon.” Barba looked back over at him. “I wasn’t particularly shaking in my boots.”
“Which is surprising, what with them being filled with snow.” Barba shot him an unimpressed look and Carisi tried, no doubt unsuccessfulku, to hide his grin. “I’m sorry, though. About ruining the chance for a deal.”
The truth was, Carisi had been more rattled than he cared to admit by Coe’s threats toward Barba. The guy was dangerous, and though Coe was behind bars for his role in a human trafficking ring, he still had enough sway to make life miserable for those around him.
Coe had been playing it cool at first, as if he couldn't care less about the deal on the table. But when Barba let his frustration slip, just a crack, exposing what he actually thought of the prisoner, it was like something in Coe snapped. He had lunged across the table, spitting vile threats in a voice, angry spittle flying into Barba’s face.
Carisi's instinct had kicked in before he even knew what was happening. In an instant, he had pushed himself between the two, placing his hands on the table and getting right into Coe’s reddened face. “Deal’s off,” he had said, before dragging a confused and now very annoyed Barba out of the room.
And since his actions had completely destroyed the DAs plan, he was surprised Barba wasn’t angrier at him.
“It was a bad deal,” said Barba, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m not opposed to making a deal. But not that one. I’ll think of something to tell McCoy.”
Carisi saw it for the overture it was, and gave a small nod. “Thanks.”
“It’s really coming down now,” hummed Barba, as he squinted through the snow at the road ahead. “Might need to pull in somewhere if we pass a gas station and wait it out. I’ll treat you to a day-old hotdog and Big Gulp .”
“For a man who wears Perillo shoes, you really know how to skimp out on a date.”
To his surprise, Barba didn’t take the bait. Instead, he looked out the window, his face flushing ever so slightly.
Which was... interesting.
“Shit,” muttered Carisi, his attention snapped away from Barba when a heavy gust of wind slammed against the car, making it veer for a moment. His knuckles tightened on the wheel as he fought to regain control.
“Carisi, can you please not try and do Coe’s job for him!” Barba’s voice was sharp, rising with panic as the car swerved once more, fighting against the screeching wind and blinding snow.
Carisi shot him a glance, teeth gritted as he fought to steady the wheel. “You are very welcome to take over, counselor!” he snapped.
The snow was relentless. The road ahead nearly invisible beneath a thick, oppressive blanket of snow. Carisi squinted through the windshield, the faint glow of the headlights barely making a dent.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Every now and then, he could feel the tires struggling to find traction, the car sliding just enough to remind him how dangerously close they were to losing control entirely.
"Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, trying to keep the wheel from jerking in his hands. His grip tightened when the headlights of a car behind them suddenly flashed, blinding Carisi in the rearview.
“Jesus! What the hell is he doing?” Carisi hissed, the irritation rising in his chest as the car sped up behind them, the lights dangerously close.
Barba glanced back. "Is he trying to flag us down?"
“I don’t--”
Before Carisi could answer, the other car was on them, slamming into the back of their vehicle with a deafening crash. The impact jarred Carisi, as the back end of the car lurched forward. He fought to keep control, the tires spinning briefly on the slick road. But then the car hit again, harder this time, sending them veering off-course. Carisi struggled to correct it, but the vehicle was struggling to follow his command, sliding dangerously across the ice.
Another impact. The other car slammed into their side, pushing them further, the screech of metal grinding against metal ringing in his ears. His heart was pounding in his chest, panic clawing at him as he fought to keep the car from spinning out of control.
"Hold on!" he shouted, his voice rising in fear as the car from behind slammed into them once more. The jolt sent them swerving across the road, tires losing their fight to hold on, and before Carisi could do anything, the car was skidding off the edge of the road.
The world spun wildly. Carisi's hands were white-knuckled on the wheel, but his control slipped with every second. The impact was so hard that the car lurched, flipping sideways, then tumbling, sending a jarring shock through his body. Everything was a blur, snow and ice, lights from the other car flashing by, the screeching of their own tires.
Barba was yelling, his voice muffled and frantic, but Carisi couldn’t focus. He couldn’t think. The world was spinning too fast, too violently. The seatbelt tightened around his chest as the car rolled, the windshield cracking, glass shattering, and Carisi’s head slammed against the side of the door.
Jesus.
Pain. Inflamed. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but the pressure was too much, the darkness creeping in around the edges of his vision.
His body felt like it was floating, detached from everything, and his hand reached out, blindly groping for Barba, his fingers brushing against the seat beside him. He barely registered the rush of cold air, the roar of the wind cutting through the car’s shattered windows. He heard Barba's voice, distant, panicked.
But it was all slipping away, his mind fogging up, the blackness creeping in as the car finally came to a stop with a shuddering halt.
Carisi couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even force his eyes open.
And then everything went dark.
Carisi slowly blinked his eyes open, the world around him spinning. His head throbbed with pain, a dull, relentless pulse.
“Sir? Sir, can you hear me?” An unfamiliar voice asked.
Carisi tried to speak, but his throat felt dry, his mouth too thick to form words. He blinked again, his gaze slowly adjusting as he saw a figure leaning over him, a man with white-blond hair, wide blue eyes, and a friendly face.
“You’re okay?” the man said, his voice warm and reassuring, though it was laced with urgency. “Can you hear me?”
Carisi’s mind cleared a little more as he turned his head to see the man’s face, then his surroundings. The door to the car was wide open. He could see the dark blur of snowstorm outside and hear the whipping of the wind.
Behind the man Barba stood, looking impossibly small as the wind forcefully jostled him. He was holding his elbow awkwardly, his eyes wide with worry and there was a deep crease of concern in his forehead. Next to him was a third figure who loomed over Barba. He was broad-shouldered, with wild, red fuzzy hair. He didn’t smile.
“I’m Buddy,” the blond man said, gesturing first to himself and then to the towering figure behind him. “And this is my brother Harry. Your friend here says you’re called Sonny?”
Carisi gave a small nod, the gesture causing the sharp pain in his head to throb.
“You’re lucky we found you, Sonny. Can you walk?” Buddy asked kindly.
Carisi nodded again, and again and regretted it, his body aching as he tried to push himself up from the driver’s seat. His head pounded, but he was relatively unhurt. He took a deep breath and swung his legs out of the car, standing carefully on shaky legs. He gritted his teeth, feeling the dizziness threaten to knock him over but managing to stay upright.
“I’m okay,” he muttered, though his voice was rough and barely above a whisper.
Buddy smiled warmly. “I’d like to take you to the hospital, but the roads are a complete mess out there.” He glanced over at Harry, who looked unimpressed but remained silent, his arms crossed. “My wife, Jenny, she’s a nurse at Mercy. She can give you both a quick look-over, make sure you’re alright. You can wait out the storm at our cabin, just down the road.”
Carisi paused, his mind hazy but trying to focus. The idea of a warm cabin instead of braving the storm for a crowded hospital was tempting. Still, he hesitated.
Barba, however, spoke up. “Does your wife happen to have an MRI machine in her kitchen?”
Buddy didn’t flinch at the sarcasm. He just shook his head. “I promise if Jenny’s concerned, we’ll brave the hospitals, but it’s better than waiting out here in the cold. You can’t stay in the wreckage like that. Plus, the storm’s taken out the cell towers, you can’t even call for anyone to come out. It isn’t safe.”
Carisi exchanged a glance with Barba. His eyes seemed too big for his face, and his concern was evident, but with a defeated sigh he nodded. It was obvious that they were in no position to turn down help.
As Carisi began to move, Barba rushed to his side, slipping a little in ice, and grabbed at Carisi’s arm with his own good hand. Buddy flanked the other side of him and they directed him towards the nearby truck, trudging through the snow as the storm whipped at their faces.
Carisi climbed into the front seat, still feeling the weight of his aching body, but the warmth of the truck’s interior was a welcome relief and he sank back with a sigh.
He glanced back into the backseat at Barba who was being helped into the seat by Harry. Once seated, he yelped in surprise as Harry didn’t give him time to shift over and climbed over him instead causing him to hiss in pain when his elbow was jostled.
Their eyes met and Carisi gave a tired smile, which Barba tried - dismally to return.
Buddy climbed into the truck, shooting Carisi a bright grin. “We’ve got some leftovers we can heat up for you if you boys are hungry. My Jenny’s a hell of a cook.”
“That would be great,” answered Carisi. “And aspirin. Aspirin would be even greater.”
Buddy laughed, grabbing at Carisi’s shoulder and giving it a hearty slap. “That we can do, too.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t shake the person with the head injury,” called Barba from the back.
Buddy held up a hand in mock surrender. “Sorry, counselor. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He looked over at Carisi. “Sorry, Sonny. Wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay,” Carisi said, his voice low but steady as he glanced back at Barba.“It’s been a bit of a long day,” he explained. “ I’m okay,” Carisi reassured him, but there was a slight wobble in his voice as he forced himself to focus. “How’s your arm?”
Barba was sitting primly against the door frame, squished into the corner as much as possible, his posture stiff and formal. Harry, on the other hand, took up most of the backseat, his large frame sprawled out comfortably, leaving Barba with barely enough space to breathe. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to downplay the pain. “I don’t think it’s broken. It’s just taken hard knock.”
Carisi raised an eyebrow. “Any other injuries?”
Barba hesitated for a moment. “No. My ribs hurt a bit, but I think they are just bruised.” He frowned, eyes looking toward the back window. “What was that other car--”
Before Carisi could respond, Buddy, who’d been quiet during this exchange, suddenly shouted, “I love this song!” and cranked the volume up to ear-shattering levels.
Carisi winced, the sound booming through the car, and he saw Barba open his mouth, clearly about to complain. Carisi shot him a quick, almost desperate look, silently pleading with him to keep quiet. Barba caught the hint and snapped his mouth shut, giving Carisi an exasperated look in return.
The rest of the ride passed in a blur of thumping drums and blaring guitars, the music reverberating in Carisi’s skull and syncing with the persistent throbbing in his head.
The snow had only worsened by the time Buddy pulled the truck to a stop in front of a small cabin nestled in the woods, barely visible through the blanket of snow. The place looked like it had seen better days. Wooden beams weathered and worn, and the chimney puffed faintly into the cold air, the only sign of warmth within. The lights were on inside, casting a soft glow that contrasted with the white wilderness around them.
It was a little Christmas card-y.
“Here we are,” Buddy announced with a slight smile, pushing open the truck door. The cold air hit Carisi like a slap in the face. Buddy took him by the arm and helped him down as he stumbled. “Come on, lean on me.”
Caris placed his arm around Buddy’s shoulders for support as Carisi swayed slightly, still feeling the after effects of the crash. Barba, wincing with each movement as he favoured his injured elbow, stepped in to assist from the other side. He carefully positioned himself to help steady Carisi, despite his own discomfort. Harry followed behind.
“Jen!” Buddy shouted, as they entered. “You home?” He looked up toward the second floor of the cabin, and shook his head when there was no response. He turned back to Carisi and Barba. “You boys make yourselves at home.”
Carisi gave a quick nod, already feeling awkward in the unfamiliar space. He glanced back at Barba, who was standing a little off to the side, rubbing his elbow and looking uncomfortable.
“Harry, warm up those leftovers. I’ll get you boys some drinks.”
Harry, the towering figure with the wild hair, lumbered off toward the small kitchen, his heavy boots thumping on the wooden floor. Carisi’s eyes looked to him as Harry disappeared into the dim interior.
“He don’t talk much,” explained Buddy. “Loyal as hell, though.”
Barba cleared his throat, his eyes darting uncomfortably around the room. “Uh, Buddy… is there a bathroom?”
“Sure, right upstairs. First door on the left.”
Barba nodded quickly, then turned and made his way toward the stairs. As he climbed, Harry re-emerged from the kitchen. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, watching Barba’s ascent. Once Barba was out of sight, he walked back into the kitchen.
“Here,” Buddy said, jolting Carisi from his gaze at Harry. He took Carisi’s hand and dropped two tablets into it before holding out a glass of water. “Aspirin.”
Carisi hesitated, eyeing the pills for a moment. He didn’t exactly relish taking anything without seeing it come straight from the bottle, but his head was pounding now, and he didn’t want to come off as rude to their rescuers. With a small nod of thanks, he swallowed the pills, washing them on their way with a sip of the water.
“Beer? Coffee? I can have Harry put a pot on.”
“No, I’m happy with this, thanks.” Carisi held up his glass. Buddy pointed towards a chair at the table and guided Carisi towards it, who dropped into it heavily.
“So what happened? Did you guys get into trouble with the weather?”
“No ---” Carisi narrowed his eyes. “There was another car, it-- it must have lost control in the storm.”
“Didn’t see anyone else when we got there. Just your little fancy friend crying and dancing around in the snow trying to get your door open.” Carsi imagined Barba wouldn’t be a lover of that descriptor. “Bristley thing, isn’t he?” Or that one.
“He’s just a little shaken,” defended Carisi. “We both are.”
Buddy smiled amiably. “That’s understandable. With this storm worsening, getting back to Manhattan in this weather would’ve been a nightmare. I’d say it was fate that we found you two.”
Carisi smiled back, grateful for their help. He tugged his jacket tighter around himself, the chill from the snow creeping into his bones. The storm outside was relentless, the howling winds battering the cabin’s walls.
Buddy noticed the shiver and gave a quick nod. “Let me get that fire going.”
He moved to the stone hearth, gathering logs and kindling with practiced hands. As the flames started to catch, Buddy glanced back at Carisi, his eyes lingering on the badge clipped to Carisi's belt. “You a cop?” he asked.
“Yeah, detective. NYPD.”
Buddy gave a short nod, eyeing the badge for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the fire.
Harry reappeared from the kitchen, giving Carisi a quick nod and a grunt as he set a plate of food down on the table with a loud clatter that echoed through the cabin. He then returned to his spot at the bottom of the stairs, standing quietly as Barba’s footsteps creaked down from above. When Barba saw Harry waiting at the bottom, his eyes widened briefly, clearly surprised to find him there.
“Hey,” Buddy called out to Barba, “can I get you a drink?”
Barba stiffened at the question, looking over at Buddy. “Oh, I’m fine, thank you.”
“You sure? I was just telling your friend here that I could put on some--”
“I’m fine!” Barba snapped, cutting him off. “I mean-- Uh, thanks.”
Carisi felt his frustration rising. These were two hardworking people who had gone out of their way to help them, and Barba was being a complete dick about it.
Buddy’s smile waned a little, before re-firing to it’s usual watt. “No problem. Here come sit down. A little something to warm you up.”
Barba hesitated at the edge of the table as he scanned the seating arrangements. His eyes briefly looked over to the chair where Harry had just plonked himself, the large man’s broad frame taking up most of it. There was a slight tensing in Barba’s posture, his lips pressing together in a tight line as he paused, his gaze darting toward the other empty chair farther from Harry.
Barba walked around the table, deliberately choosing the chair at the opposite end. He settled into it quickly, keeping his back straight and his expression carefully neutral.
Carisi sighed. Barba was going to get them thrown into the snow at this rate.
Buddy took up the chair rejected by Barba and began spooning the refried beans onto their plates. Carisi’s stomach turned a little, it didn’t look the most edible but it had been hours since they had last eaten.
“Looks delicious,” he lied. “Thanks.”
Barba didn’t hide his look of horror as his portion was sloshed onto his plate.
"I just don't know where Jenny has got to," Buddy said, glancing out the window as if expecting her to appear at any moment. "I hope she hasn’t got held up at the hospital.
“Hmph, ” muttered Barba under his breath.
Buddy glanced over at him, his tone lighter. “She can take a look at that for you, too.” He pointed to the tear in Barba’s jacket sleeve. “She’s a champion sewer.”
Barba gave a tight smile, and put his head back down. He picked up his spoon and began pushing the food around on his plate, his eyes unfocused as he played with the food. Carisi found himself watching Barba, irritated by his behaviour. He could feel his own fatigue creeping up on him, the exhaustion clawing at his limbs, head booming, but he was managing to be polite, it wasn’t that hard. Harry was clearly picking up on the tension, also watching Barba as he quietly chewed.
The meal stretched on in silence, punctuated only by the occasional clink of silverware against plates and the sound of the storm outside. Buddy asked Carisi a few questions, but Carisi could barely focus enough to answer, responding in short, automatic words.
His head felt better than it had since the crash, but the disorientation still lingered. Tiredness was dragging him down, making everything seem just a little too far away.
Barba barely touched his food, moving the beans back and forth like Sisyphos at mealtime. Every now and then, he would glance up, when Buddy directed a question his way and Barba would respond with little more than a mumbled answer, his tone flat.
The meal slowly wound down. Buddy cleared his throat, rising to his feet with a smile as he began gathering their plates, advising he and his brother would go wash up while they relaxed. Carisi let out a long breath as his own plate was cleared, stretching his sore muscles. Harry got up too, giving Barba one last, thoughtful glance before following Buddy into the kitchen.
Barba’s voice cut through the silence then, soft but urgent. "Carisi,” he said in a quiet hiss. “I looked around upstairs--"
Carisi blinked. "Kind of nosey."
"--and there is absolutely no sign a woman lives here. No beauty products, no pillows with tassels, no throws, no little pots with a bunch of sticks shoved in them--"
“Kind of sexist.”
"--and my theory is that Jenny. Jenny, who can heal, cook, sew, and leap buildings in a single bound, is struggling so hard to get home due to her inability to morph into corporeal form.”
Carisi raised an eyebrow, rubbing at his temple. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and it took him a moment to process the words. "What?"
“Because she doesn’t exist, Carisi!” Barba hissed dramatically
A possible concussion and a chaser of a paranoid Barba were hard to juggle. “You’re just rattled from the crash, they’ve been really good to us.”
“Because they want us nice and pliant for when they chainsaw us into pieces.”
“Oh my God, you watch too many movies. Creepy shack in the woods doesn't always mean serial killers who want to wear our faces.”
"Aha!" Barba pointed at him with exaggerated triumph. "So you do think it’s creepy."
“Hard to believe you argue for a living.”
“Okay then, counter this: how did he know what I did for a living?” Barba gestured to the door they had just passed through. “In the truck, he called me ‘counselor’.”
“Maybe you told him?” Carisi suggested.
“Yes, Carisi, ‘oh, don’t mind my friend bleeding to death all over the floor, I’m a lawyer, you know. I was top of my class at Harvard. ’”
Carisi’s heart gave a pathetic skip at Barba referring to him as his friend. “To be fair, you just managed to humble-brag, right now this second.” Carisi considered. “Maybe I called you it? I can’t really remember... my head is so..." He trailed off, suddenly unable to find the words. He shook his hands as if trying to shake the sensation loose. "...fuzzy?"
“I’ve got no bars on my phone, but I think if we walk far enough we should be able to get a signal--”
“Barba,” groaned Carisi, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s a touch snowy outside.”
“--and it’s a touch murder-ry in here!”
“Counselor!” Barba jumped, giving a small cursed gasp at Buddy’s sudden appearance. “I forgot to give you this,” Buddy said, walking towards them with a small brown wallet in hand. “It was on the floor outside your car.”
Barba took the wallet from Buddy with a delicate grip. Opening it slowly, he thumbed through the contents, his fingers lingering over the various cards. He paused when he reached the blue card... his NYSBA card.
He glanced up at Carisi, who raised a targeted eyebrow.
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
Buddy, noticing Barba’s weariness, placed a hand on his shoulder. “You look shattered,” he said with a kind, encouraging smile. “Why don’t you head down to the spare room and get settled?”
Barba stiffened, his back straightening as though he could resist the suggestion. “Right now? Oh, I’m not tired--” he broke off with a yawn, instantly looking betrayed by his own body.
“Please! You can barely keep on your feet. Harry, can you show Rafael where he’ll be sleeping. You better wait up for Jenny, Sonny. I’d like her to check you over before you try to go to sleep.”
Harry appeared next to Barba, with an expectant air. Barba tightened his jaw, clearly reluctant to give in, before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Okay,” he muttered, standing up slowly. He motioned with a wave of his hand for Harry to go ahead.
Harry moved toward the kitchen, and Barba followed, glancing back at Carisi with wide, unreadable eyes before disappearing through the door.
Buddy watched Barba leave and gave a small shake of his head. “Twitchy little fella,” he muttered to himself before turning his attention back to Carisi.
Carisi cleared his throat and shifted the subject. “So, have you been with Jenny for a long?”
Buddy smiled, a warm, nostalgic look settling on his face. “Going on sixteen years now.”
“And she does a lot of night shifts?”
“Yeah, bit of a trek from Bellevue in this weather, so that must be what's holding her up.”
Carisi frowned, but hadn’t earlier he said--
From downstairs, a series of loud bangs and thumping sounds filtered up, followed by the screech of metal scraping across the floor.
“The spare room,” he explained, “it’s in our converted basement. My son’s away at college, so we’ve been using it to store things. Don’t worry, it’s perfectly serviceable.” He grinned at Carisi. “Harry will just be moving things around a bit.” He leant over and poured some more water from a jug on the table into a glass. “I’ve got a safe by the way.”
Carisi blinked as Buddy’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Hmm?” he muttered, the dizziness intensifying, and he swayed slightly. “Sorry?”
Buddy repeated, “For your gun. If you want to lock it away overnight.”
Carisi instinctively touched his belt. “Um, thanks for the offer, but I’m good,” he managed, his words feeling sluggish.
Buddy leaned in closer, his gaze intense. “No worries, I understand.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied Carisi. “Hey, are you okay? You’re looking pretty peaky.”
Carisi was feeling a little peaky come to mention it. His vision swayed, the room blurring and refocusing. The world seemed to tilt ever so slightly, Buddy’s form moving between standing right next to him and somehow miles away.
“Okay, I think maybe we should get you lying down. Come on. That should’ve given us enough time.”
Time for what?
Buddy was helping him to his feet, his touch surprisingly steady. Carisi staggered slightly, his legs uncooperative, and the dizziness increased as Buddy led him through the kitchen. His eyes caught sight of the scattered pots and pans as they passed, the dirty dishes in the sink.
When Buddy reached for a door and opened it, revealing a set of stairs leading down into what appeared to be a basement, Carisi felt relief. God, he couldn’t wait to lie down.
“Right here,” Buddy’s voice was low and encouraging. “Just down here.”
But as Carisi’s foot hit the last step, he froze, his breath catching in his throat.
The scene before him jolted him into full clarity, the haze in his mind dissipating for a split second. A dirty mattress sat on the floor, next to a wooden beam. A heavy chain was wrapped around said beam, its rusted links digging into the wood as it coiled around a chain that was currently clamped tightly around Barba’s ankle. Barba, eyes impossibly huge and filled with terror, was gagged, unable to speak, his body tense with fear. Harry sat close behind him, looming and silent, a large hunting knife pressed tight against Barba’s throat.
Carisi’s heart slammed against his chest as his gaze darted between Barba and Harry, the exhaustion fighting the confusion. But before he could react, Buddy’s breath hit the back of his ear, so close it almost felt like he was breathing inside him.
“I think I’ll be taking that gun now, detective.”