Miami Vice Chronicles: Fan Fiction: Blood Debts

Blood Debts: A Miami Vice Reunion

by Anne Trembley

If anything, what kept them together was their brotherhood, more than the fight. The fight brought them together, that's true. When that was gone, they still had that connection, that love.

And THAT is the real victory......

Chapter 1 :: Chapter 2 :: Chapter 3 :: Chapter 4 :: Chapter 5 :: Chapter 6 :: Chapter 7 ::
Chapter 8 :: Chapter 9 :: Chapter 10 :: Chapter 11 :: Chapter 12 :: Chapter 13 :: Chapter 14 ::
Chapter 15 :: Chapter 16 :: Chapter 17 :: Chapter 18 :: Chapter 19 :: Chapter 20 :: Chapter 21

Chapter 14

9:50 PM Outside Miami

It took over an hour for Tubbs and Zules to find the tiny gas station where Crockett finally reached a payphone. The place had been closed for hours when he got there and Sonny was intensely grateful to discover a working pop machine outside the locked building. He was tired, bug bit, sweaty, and pissed. He sat on a half crushed car in the shadows and drank first a sugared pop and then a diet pop. Both blessedly ice cold.

Sonny could remember worse days in Miami, but not many that left him so frustrated. All through that long walk he'd wondered whether Castillo made it out of the hospital, whether he would make it to Chata's house, whether he would even GO there and not just vanish. Sonny knew Castillo was perfectly able to vanish at this point as completely as a ghost. The blond detective slumped back bonelessly over the car body and remembered how soft a pile of rocks could seem when you were tired enough. He heard the approaching car and pulled back further into the shadows. Only after Marco pulled the car in under the lights and he identified the two men did he leave the shadows.

Rico saw the purple bruises on his face, and asked immediately, "Are you okay?"

Sonny was opening a door, he could feel the bruises up and down his ribs and there were spots that felt skinned raw under his clothes from being bounced against the walls during the hours of questioning, "Yeah. Let's get out of here." Marco pulled back out on the road and turned toward Miami. Sonny slumped down deep in the seat and laid his head back for a minute. Rico looked at him, "So who were they?"

"Oh God. Suits. Feds of some kind. They never would tell me who they were."

Rico grimaced, he'd always hated dealing with Government spooks.

"Friedman said they were Company."

"Great, this just keeps getting better."

"You're lucky they didn't decide to keep you as a door prize. What did you tell them?"

Sonny looked at him for a second. A slow nasty smile spread across his face.

"I was in the bathroom when the guards were put on the room, it opened to the next room down the hall. I got Castillo out of the room and stayed to delay them. So I told them there weren't any guards when I walked into the room, and they could run a lie detector test on me if they wanted. Then I told them Castillo wasn't there so I sat down to read and wait for him to come back."

Rico laughed. It made his whole face light up for a change.

"Did they appreciate your honesty?"

"Not much. I think they really wanted to beat the crap out of me, but their boss finally said to take me for a ride. I think they just wanted to be difficult."

"They succeeded. We've lost a lot of time. Where did you send Castillo?"

Sonny grimaced, "The only place I could think of. The Voodoo Priestess."

Rico glanced at him; "You ARE kidding right?"
"I wish I was, she was the only person I could remember. I never met a lot of his friends."

"I know. But every time you did..."

"They surprised the hell out of you."

"Yeah."

Rico turned to look at Sonny, "Friedman told us about the Methadone. You could have told us."

Sonny knew it, knew he should have told them just so they were aware of the situation. He rubbed his face wearily.

"Yeah." His eyes met Rico's. "Sorry, I didn't even want to think about it. Friedman said he was fully involved by the time we got him back, you saw how bad his arm looked. I knew how much Castillo would hate that. Being turned into an addict. I didn't want to think about it with all the other crap going on." Rico was sympathetic.

"If anyone could walk away from it, Castillo could. No matter how much it hurt." Sonny snorted,

"I know, I never doubted that. I think we need to hurry."

10:30 PM Miami

Chata offered him clean clothes and a shower. It was a delight. Martin soaked and scrubbed himself and when he was done, he examined his body. Scars...Scars everywhere. He could identify the cause of most of them. Gunshot wounds, knife scars, the scars left after they patch you back together. Where had he been all these years? Was he on a job of some sort? Where was his Contact Control? There had been Sidney at the hospital, He knew Sidney from Japan and Thailand and other places. But now he seemed to be free from the Agency. The blond, Crockett. Sonny? ? Was that his name? How was he connected to this? He'd made the escape possible, led him to this woman. He recognized her rank and did not doubt what she said. He emerged dressed in a loose black version of a Santeria initiate's white garb. Not much different from Dojo attire for any Martial arts.

Faint ripples of light reflected from a small garden pool into the screened-porch on the back of Chata's house. It gave the impression if not the reality of coolness. Chata and Castillo both sat facing the small nearly invisible garden with the steady song of frogs and night insects as background music. They sat in meditative silence for a long time, drinking cold tea.

Castillo's soft broken voice finally rasped.

"How long have you known me?"

Without turning she answered.

"22 years, through hurricanes, and fire."

"I remember nothing, what kind of man was I?"

"A man of the law."

"What law?"
The slow rolling song of Cicadas and the soft clatter of leaves in the faint breeze were all around them in the night. Chata paused as one shuffling through a large box of memories.

"A man of great personal strength and courage. A man who would walk through fire to see justice served."

"He sounds like a pain in the ass."

Chata smiled with real humor although Martin's words were cool and dismissive.

"Sometimes. Martin Castillo is a Lieutenant in the Miami Police department, in the Vice division."

Martin cast a doubtful eye at her.

"Is that my cover?"

"No. It is your life."

"It doesn't make any sense."

"If someone has blocked your memories there are ways to find them. If you have sealed the memory from yourself, it will be more difficult."

"I must know."
Chata's eyes turned down, she did not want to lie. She knew him too well, and owed him too much. There were few people in the world as unyielding as Martin Castillo. It took hardly any psychic talent at all to know this man would not give up, no matter how high the cost.

There were ways to break through any kind of conditioning. But few people could withstand the trial of living their life over with every mistake intact. It meant visiting one's own personal Hell.
"There is a way..."
"I must know what was done to me."
Chata raised liquid black eyes, "Martin, this is not something you do lightly. This drug opens all doors, reveals all wounds, even the secrets we must keep for the sake of our own sanity. I must warn you Martin, there are things in your past of great pain. And there is danger in calling the past to you. Every choice you have ever made will be returned to you in all its anguish. You will not be able to change anything, only watch it happen." She knew without asking that he would chose to know the truth no matter what it cost him in grief.
"I have no choice."
She smiled thinly.
"I knew you would say that."

Martin Castillo knew many of the rituals of Santeria. He knew rituals and practices from many exotic and distant places. Whether there was suffering involved did not greatly concern him. The disorder in his mind was a fog that kept him separated from any depth of thinking and he hated that. Hated knowing that an essential part of him had been amputated. He was prepared to do what ever was necessary to change that.
The room Chata took him to was empty except for floor pads suitable for meditation, or yoga, or time spent lying still. There were tiny magical wards on every wall, against every form of evil. He sat and simply began a breathing exercise of relaxation, knowing there was really nothing that would make this easier.

Chata left him to prepare and went to make ready what she considered the cruelest drug in her arsenal. It would not kill, but it could make you wish you had never been born. It might reveal to you the mistakes that cursed your life and give you the desire to change yourself. Or merely make you hide more deeply from your own past. For some people the past laid bare was so painful they fled into coma for days. For everyone who tried this path, time was needed to accept and chose what you would become once you knew all your own secrets. The Martin Castillo she had known would never hide from anything. For herself she prepared something that would allow her to sense his journey without being borne along helpless in the flood of information.
She was deeply immersed in the preparation for some time and returned to the room with a tray bearing a tiny dish containing a dab of paste stuff, and a glass of water. For her an earthen cup of steaming liquid that smelled oddly like wood shavings mixed with gunmetal. Chata folded herself neatly onto a pad across from him with the tray, setting it on the floor between them. Her voice was gently formal. "I am not your guide. I am your guardian. I am here to protect you from the outside world and from yourself." She then picked up the earthen cup and drank it. For seconds Martin studied the tiny dish, then slowly reached for it, raising it with both hands. He knew the deeper levels of trance and awareness, the deepest martial arts all concern the mind more than the body.
"Chew it slowly. Then drink."
It tasted like nothing. Then it was cinnamon, limes, and then bitter enough to make him fight gagging. True flavors or memories? It disappeared before he could swallow. His mouth was quite dry. The water was ice cold. A gentle voice suggested he lie down. His tongue burned and then a wave of heat washed from the center of his body out to all extremities and rushed back into an empty space inside himself.
And then..then he felt a terrifying lurch as if he slipped on ice. He fell. A long sliding fall through dark time and space toward a tiny pinprick of light. His life began. Every moment, every experience. Happening now. Time had no meaning here. His body went rigid, jerked convulsively, then went still again. Childhood's exquisite delight and anguish, adolescence in all its painful wild energy, hurtful mistakes, every choice right or wrong. He struggled, moving in slow, slow motion while every muscle strained with tension. Scene after scene after scene, in full Technicolor horror. Joy and despair, light and darkness. Every dark corner of his life revealed as a raw wound. He felt each wound anew, and could only watch himself bleed. Choices irredeemable like drops of acid on raw nerves. He could not stop it or change anything. It was knives cutting his soul to pieces.

The Perfect Teahouse

Impenetrable fog surrounded the Teahouse. The tea steamed, the fog thickened shutting out all light but the strange foxfire glow around Jack's face. Too low to call it a sound, there was a sense of thunder, of a storm beyond any horizon.

Castillo's voice was quiet.

"What is happening?'

Jack smiled.

"It's almost time Marty."

1:15 AM Miami

They were only about eight blocks from Chata's place when Sonny happened to rub the back of his neck where it had been itching. He felt a tiny sharp prick from his jacket, he did not recall ever feeling that before and began to explore the tag, found a tiny spike just barely discernable to his fingertips.
        "Shit! Stop the car!"
"Huh?" Marco pulled over as quickly as he could and looked enquiringly at Sonny who had torn off his jacket and was seriously examining the tag and then the collars underside. When he twisted it over, there was a tiny bead stuck to the cloth.
One of the Company people had grabbed him by the coat collar at one point when they took him out to the car for his drive in the country. Now he knew why.
        Rico was watching, "You think it's a voice mike or a location tracker?"
Sonny's face tightened, "Probably location. They figured I sent him somewhere, and that I'd go there as soon as possible." Sonny pulled it off his jacket and prepared to toss it out of the car.
"Wait!" Marco said. "Keep it in the car, I'll take you back to your car and I'll drive around with it." It made sense. It just delayed getting to the Voodoo Priestess's house. Sonny cursed,
"No, Damnit, I'll walk from here."
"I'm coming too." Rico jumped out of the car. "Just don't let them catch you."   Rico called to the young Detective.
"Will do, Boss." Marco answered and brought the car to a crawl as soon as Sonny and Rico bailed out. The car cruised on very slowly without them and turned a corner to disappear. Crockett and Tubbs looked at each other, Tubbs grinned, and "We're OFF to see the wizard..."
Sonny snorted,
"After you Dorothy."
"Nah, I'm the Scarecrow. You know..the brains."
        "Yeah, well he didn't HAVE any, just straw."
        "No man, that's allegory." Sonny couldn't resist.
"What's that have to do with alligators?"
They walked down the street toward the address Sonny remembered, arguing in loud silly whispers. Sonny knew how tired they must be because they were both snickering and trying not to fall down laughing. They walked as briskly as they could and Sonny tried to ignore the ache in his feet. He hadn't walked this hard in one day since Boot Camp and that was a couple lifetimes ago. Somehow everything was too funny. Even when they took a wrong turn and had to backtrack two streets to get there.
The house looked the same, the street address was right. Seemed the same. A station wagon not much different from the one he vaguely recalled sat in the driveway. When Tubbs whispered softly, "Reese is the wicked Witch of the West." He almost lost it and started giggling. "Shut up." Sonny snorted. He knew the Santeria Priestess was an old friend of Marty's, he did not believe for even a second that she would turn him away, but what would she think when it was clear that Castillo had a form of amnesia? That cooled his humor a little. "I hope she's expecting us." They headed for the front door.

Sonny looked at his watch and hoped Chata did not just call the Cops. It was beyond late. He knocked on the front door. It had a peephole, so he stood in front of it. He was too tired now to smile. He heard the door unlock, and for a terrible moment wondered if some redneck yahoo who lived here now would poke a shotgun out the door to chase him off.

        A smooth black face with sparkling black eyes met him calmly. Just as he remembered, she wore a Caribbean turban in soft colors, and dignity like steel plating. She asked with that strangely pitched voice he had never been able to forget.
        "Sonny Crockett, Ricardo Tubbs, why have you come to see me?"
        Sonny did not bother with any preliminaries.
"Marty. Is he here yet?" Chata gazed at him in silence.
"Come in."

        It was another surreal evening in Miami, Sonny decided. The house was airy and pastel inside, with minimal furniture or decoration. They sat on a couch like kids, feeling guilty for no good reason that Sonny could seem to remember. She never sat, just stood looking at them in the same wonderful laser beam way that Castillo used to cut holes in people.
        "You sent him to me." She stated.
        "Yes, I couldn't think of anyone else. There are people after him. He doesn't remember anything."
        She nodded, "Martin asked for my help. I gave him something that opens the doors to memories."
"That's good isn't it? He'll remember everything."
She looked it him for a long moment. Long enough for Sonny to realize there was something in this conversation that he was blind too.
"This drug opens all doors, bares all wounds, reveals all secrets. Every choice you have ever made in your life is returned to you. You cannot change them, only suffer them again. From that place, you chose your path"
        Sonny and Rico both felt stunned. Finally, Rico cleared his throat, "How long does this take?"
        The striking black woman smiled then, "Time. I must go back to watch over him. He will be returning near dawn." She waved a hand gracefully at the house. "Be welcome. There is food in the kitchen. Rest, do not disturb us." Without another word she turned and walked away down a short hallway, pausing before a closed door she pressed a hand against the wood, then opened it and disappeared inside.
        The two detectives sat nervously for a second, before Tubbs announced quietly, "This was one big reason why I LEFT Miami. Too surreal man."
Sonny made a face.
"Yeah."

After a minute's hesitation, Sonny remembered that he was starving. "Well, she did say there was food in the kitchen."
The two men moved quietly, feeling like kids trying to avoid notice at all costs, and found the kitchen. They both automatically headed for the fridge. Rico whispered, "Probably leftover fried bats." Sonny snorted and had to gasp into his hand. "Quit that." They found recognizable food, although in the end, Sonny looked for and found peanut butter and jelly and decided to keep it simple. They sat at the kitchen table eating when Rico asked, "Do you think she's got coffee?"
        "Yeah, but I think I'll let my guts rest. We're gonna be here a while."
        "As bad as the Company wants Castillo, they may show up at the door."
        Sonny had been considering that same depressing thought. "We should take turns keeping an eye out, and see if this place has a back door." Rico nodded.
        They made like good houseguests and cleaned up after themselves as quietly as possible. They checked out the back door. Rico made sure most of the front room lights were off and found a window spot where he could discreetly keep an eye on the street. He was a little worried about falling asleep at the wheel, but he guessed Sonny was in worse shape after his hike.
"Why don't you lay down first, the couch looks pretty good."
Sonny wanted to say that he would be fine, but he knew that wasn't true. The oldest Army rule of all, rest whenever you can. He sighed, "Okay, thanks." The couch was surprisingly hard and he was amazingly tired. He was asleep in seconds.

        Tubbs glanced at Sonny with amusement, decided to try to give him at least a couple hours before his turn to watch. It was not that easy. He was yawning hard after the first hour, and had to get up and move around. He started making a circuit of the windows, staying away from the hallway. Finally, he decided to step outside the backdoor for a few minutes and listen to get a feel for the neighborhood sounds. He wanted especially to see if he could hear car traffic at all. If the Company was searching, they'd come in cars.

Friday 3:30 AM

Sonny woke with a gasp; galvanized, already on his feet, gun in hand. A scream? He was convinced he'd heard a scream? It was still ringing in his head. Eyes raked the room in a split second, he was clammy with fear sweat, a faint sound came through the door in the hallway. He opened it ready for anything but what he saw.

Chata sat on the padded floor looking up at him with calm distant eyes. Marty huddled against her shoulder shuddering with broken sobs. Her hands stroked his back gently as one comforts a child. The sight was so completely unexpected, that he could only stare.
        It took seconds to rein in the adrenaline pounding through his nerves. Her eyes told him to leave quietly. Sonny backed out, feeling scorched by those gentle black eyes.

The door closed with only a slight well-oiled click. Knees shaking, he sat down, running a hand back through his damp hair. He wondered what time it was, glancing at his watch, amazed to see it was 2:13 in the morning. He'd been asleep for over an hour. It just didn't feel like sleep. Dreams, God! The dreams!
        He rubbed gritty eyes with a shaky hand. Finally reaching for the magazine knocked off the couch while falling asleep. Willing himself to stay alert he began to skim the articles. Cultural anthropology was not a first choice of interest. Where was Tubbs? After a futile attempt to be interested in reading, he got up, stretched and went looking for the Black detective. He found the backdoor open a crack and immediately pulled back around a corner, drew his gun and waited, wondering just who was going to come back in the door. Minutes passed, he knew he was being maybe too paranoid and the door silently opened enough for Tubbs to slide inside. He quickly holstered his weapon. Damn I'm getting edgy!
"Rico." He whispered. Tubbs jumped a little and Sonny moved into his line of sight. "I woke up. You want to nap while I look around?" Tubbs smiled, "Sure, I'll keep the couch warm for you."

        Rico made himself comfortable on the couch and went to sleep just as quickly as Sonny had. The blond detective made a careful circuit of the house. Listening out the back door as Rico had, as well as the front door. No car sounds except in the far distance. He was grateful for that. The longer they were here, the more convinced he was that the Company would be tearing Miami apart looking for Castillo. If they grabbed Marco, he wondered how long the kid would hold out before giving up the address, and how rough they might get with him. If he was smart he would reveal where Crockett and Tubbs bailed out. That would give them a lot of area to search. He was sure they were coming. It was just a matter of time.

On one slow circuit of the house he suddenly turned to see Chata standing by the open door in the hallway. Sonny went to her immediately. Running a hand through his ragged hair, he asked the question that had waited for so many hours.
        "Is he OK now?"
        Chata's black eyes considered him longer than he liked before speaking. Her strange vibrant voice, hummed in the bones of his ears.
        "He should sleep now for several hours. It is not finished. He has another valley to cross."
        Chata frowned slightly, there was a stillness about her, even in motion. There was a sad, stark quality to her, that reminded him of Marty. The look of someone who knows exactly what hell looks and feels like, and yet has made peace with that knowledge.

"I will make you some tea."

        Sonny managed to keep the look of revulsion off his face.
But not enough for her knowing eyes. A flicker of humor crossed her face. "Perhaps for you, coffee." The thin smile included
Her eyes when he sighed with relief before he was aware of it.
        Sonny followed her to the kitchen and sat at the table while she deftly made a pot with a Mr. Coffee and a cup of tea. She sat at the table drinking the steaming tea and gave him another of those unnerving examinations. When he could stand it no longer he blurted,
"Will he be alright now?"
"That remains to be seen."
"But, I thought this would bring back his memories."
She paused for a long moment before speaking, and let the words sink in.
"He chose to die." Her words were harsh in the silence. Sonny swallowed, he felt queasy. Chata looked at him, her face was grave.
"It was the only way to escape."
"Why?" Sonny felt the blood leave his face.
        Chata seemed troubled by his ignorance.
"I thought you understood. He knew they would break him. That was when he chose to die. They would not let him die. To escape he left this life behind. This drug opens all doors, Reveals all secrets. Martin has a very dark past. I must warn you, he may chose not to come back."
        It did not make Sonny feel any better. He drank the coffee gratefully. Frowning with concern he finally told her.
"Look, It's only a matter of time before the Company tracks us here. They'll go house to house if they have too, but they're coming. We need to be able to get him away when that happens."
"I am prepared."
Sonny just hoped she was.

She sipped her tea and Sonny found himself wondering how in the world she had become a friend of Martin Castillo. She was so exotic, and Castillo had always seemed more like a ruined priest in his unvarying black and white, and iron personal standards. He had seen the Lieutenant on occasion study a worn bible given to him by a Catholic Priest who had been a close friend. He knew vaguely that the man spent time in one of the Buddhist temples in Miami, and that he had more than a casual understanding of Santeria. "How did you meet Marty?" he asked her hesitantly. The question brought a slow smile to her face. "During a Hurricane. He is very good with boats." Then she smiled again at his baffled face and told him she needed to check on Castillo. Sonny remained at the table trying to decide what they should do next. Exhaustion was making it hard to think at all. He checked his watch and then went to trade places with Rico. The Black man came awake with a moan. "let me die, I'm too old for this."
Sonny responded dryly, "You an' me both brother. There's coffee in the kitchen." Rico sat up with another moan. "Coffee."

Sonny chuckled, "In Oregon it's a food group." Rico raised a bleary eye and shuddered.

        Rico helped himself to a cup of coffee, he felt better but not much. He checked all his viewpoints again and listened out the back door. Then took a seat in the darkened front of the house where he felt able to keep an eye and ear on things.

Blood Debts: A Miami Vice Reunion

by Anne Trembley