Fan Fiction

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

The Vice Detectives arrived in different vehicles, quietly gathering in the first giant foyer of the Convention center.  Everyone had managed to clean up and look respectable, although Sonny was down to his last clean shirt and a feather light summer jacket just to hide his gun and shoulder holster.  He felt like he was wearing deoderant by the pound.  He was amazed at how fresh Gina managed to appear.  That look he used to call 'summer innocence' in his mind because it was so different from the intentionally distracting skintight work clothes she usually wore.  They were all discreetly armed.  Stan looked tired and geeky in a loose short-sleeved shirt with a bowtie.  Marco had somehow found a tie-dyed shirt that looked almost as good as the ones Sonny regularly saw in the Northwest.  It made him seem almost ridiculously young.  Arnie was still wearing his bizarre Hawaiian shirt, and it still made the older detective wince.  Sonny was grateful for the worn canvas deck-shoes Sandy had put in the bottom of his bag.  Oregon summer-wear just did not work in Miami.  Arnie pulled a tiny cellphone out of one pocket and handed it to Sonny. 

"It's a prepaid cheapie, good for a couple hours."  Crockett noticed a strip of tape stuck to it with numbers penned on it. Arnie continued,  "That's everyone's cell number."

"Thanks."  A crease appeared between Sonny's eyebrows as his eyes flicked over the others.  "You mean, ALL of you have these?"  They all nodded and he shook his head.  "I'm getting old."

Trudy showed up then looking impossibly crisp in a long cotton summer dress.  She was carrying two double size espresso madness cups and Sonny thought she was risking serious intestinal damage but decided that not even a cute remark would go over well at this point.  He wondered when Tubbs would arrive.  They were gathered by a small jungle of potted trees and tropical foliage.  Trudy took a swallow from one cup and handed the second cup to Gina who took a gulp.  Dark brown eyes studied him seriously.

"Sonny, what do we do if we see him?"

That was the one question Sonny Crockett had been avoiding.  Time had run out for an easy answer.  The other detectives watched Sonny, and even Marco and Arnie could tell that what the blond detective was about to say would hurt.  Crockett's face was still and grim.  He could not believe the words that came out of his mouth and suddenly he wondered if this was how Castillo had felt, any one of a hundred times when he sent them off to do something impossible.

"Call someone else and let them know.  Then we do what the Lieutenant would want us to do.  We stop him."  Sonny did not trust himself to speak for a minute.  The faces surrounding him were so disturbed.   Gina's voice was only a whisper.

"You think we may not be able to talk him down..."

"Yeah.  If he's convinced he's here to kill someone, we have to stop him no matter what it takes.  It's what the lieutenant would want us to do."

"There's got to be a chance we can talk him out of it."

"Maybe.  If he's starting to get his memories back, maybe.

But if he doesn't remember who you are, you just have to stop him.  No matter what it takes."

It was not a happy group that agreed to meet in the same spot in two hours and split up to begin their search. 

The place was huge, finished long after Sonny left Miami and he was completely unfamiliar with it.  The morning went by as a blur of asking questions and learning the layout.  They found nothing scheduled at 9:00 AM except for three small meetings, these were covered with no problems and no answers.  After that it was hours of looking and wandering.  After another hour he tried Tubbs Cellphone but got no answer.  When lunchtime came and went without Tubbs showing up, Sonny started seriously feeding money to a payphone.  He was afraid of using up the cellphone too quickly.  He tried Friedman's office at the Hospital and got no answer there either.  It worried him, but there was no way he could leave the Convention Center.  He tried to get someone to go check Friedman's office and was told they would send someone as soon as possible.   Sonny got the flavor in the voice that meant, "Sorry, too busy, nobody to do it, maybe later, maybe."  He hung the phone up in sour frustration and went back to scouring the Convention Center.  Trying to reassure himself that Tubbs was either following a really good lead, or stuck in traffic somewhere.

12:20 PM Miami Dream Coast Hotel Convention Center.

Reese drove to a hotel bigger than anything Castillo ever remembered seeing.  As soon as he wondered about that, a sickening flood of disordered images filled his aching head with buildings, people, and places.  He breathed carefully, pushing away all the information trying to fill him. He was tired.  The fire burning him from the inside out was back with a vengeance.  It took energy to put it aside.

No.  He would trust Reese to take care of him until he felt better.  When they reached Reese's room.  The older man offered Marty something to eat and drink and suggested that he rest for a few hours before they went to the target area. Castillo accepted this without question, he needed rest, he knew that.  Perhaps the disordered images and memories that kept trying to overwhelm him would cease.  There was comfort in having Reese to watch over him, he trusted the man as he trusted very few people.

Martin Castillo used the training he had received to compose himself to rest in spite of the nagging pain.  He entered into a light meditative sleep but as soon as dream images began he lost control.  The dreams were awful.  Filled with death and despair, and a hopeless feeling of loss.  Castillo woke with a cry, sat up on the bed.  He was drenched with sweat and chilled by the airconditioning.  The room smelled wrong.  Strange, he did not remember ever being in a hotel before with such intense airconditioning.  Another change in the world.  He shivered with reaction.  The feeling of uncertainty was back.

'You okay Marty?"  Reese's voice rumbled.

"Dreams, headache" He said, rubbing his forehead in surprise.  Since when had he started having such bad headaches?  He could not remember.  It was recent, right after.. after what?

"You'll feel better in a while, don't worry about it."

Castillo did not feel so sure.  The strange burning was back, and with it whispering memories of something he was supposed to do.  He ran fingers through coal black hair streaked with silver threads, pressing fingertips against pressure points on the skull.  Every spot felt like a hot bruise.  Looking at Reese he rasped,

"What am I here for?"

"A target.  Nothing more.  Try and rest again."

This time there were no dreams. 

4:18 PM Dream Coast Convention Center

Rico arrived at the Convention center feeling sick as a dog.  His head hurt and muscles ached from the time spent tied to the chair.  The nausea he figured was probably side affects of whatever Reese had used to knock him out.  He finally bought a bottle of water and a packet of ibuprofin and sipped it on the way to the Convention center.  Reese had taken his cellphone which pissed him off.  It was somehow unexpected that the man guessed he had one, and went to the trouble of taking it to make it harder for him to contact the others.  When Rico reached the Dream Coast, he also discovered that Reese had taken the Staff Badge from inside his jacket, that made him grind his teeth with frustration.  In the end he bought a day pass just to get in without spending hours explaining himself. It took over an hour to find any of the other Detectives.  His head was still pounding when a voice he knew well suddenly demanded,

"Tubbs!  Where the Hell have you been?"

The New Yorker focused with some difficulty as he turned.
"Nice to see you too."

"Geez Rico, what happened?"

"Reese came to Friedman's office.  He expected Castillo to show up there.  Left us both tied up and drugged out.  Friedman thinks Reese must be working for Emil. He was there to take Castillo.  I think he's bringing him here."

Before Sonny had time to digest this unpleasant information, Stan and Arnie appeared out of the crowd followed by Trudy and Gina.  As soon as they were close enough to speak quietly, Gina blurted out.
     "9:00 tonight, the Dalai Lama has a private meeting with Martin Castillo."

A wave of cold horror chilled Sonny.

5:00 PM Dream Coast Hotel

With long experience behind him, Reese announced quietly from across the room.

"It's time."

Castillo was out of the bed and standing ready before he was aware.  It was a strange sodden sleep that he awoke from.  Without a word he stretched and flexed, warming his muscles.  The older man handed him what looked like an impossibly thin protective vest.  He took it and was astonished at it's lack of weight. 

"What is this stuff?"  It was overly long as well, including leg cuffs.

"New material, lighter then the old stuff.  They call it Spider Silk."

Reese helped adjust the closures.  Castillo did not question the change of clothing that Reese had for him.  A severe light weight black suit and short sleeved white shirt.  He knotted a thin tie loosely.  Walking away from a job and disappearing required blending into the crowd.  Once Castillo had dressed over the armor, Reese produced a Colt Python and Jackass holster.  Castillo handled the gun, examined the grip and weight.

"Good feel."

Reese smiled

"I knew you'd like it."

4:20 PM Dream Coast Convention Center

Reese parked the small cargo van at the loading dock, found someone to help him unload a large Theatrical road box on wheels marked Spotlights Repairs & Service.  He put a large toolbox on top of the rolling unit and a coil of cable and pushed it into the center.  He already had a really nice set of identification papers and a badge pinned to his coveralls. He knew exactly where he was taking it.  The area had been scouted weeks before and he had considered every possible problem.  He wore a neat grizzled ponytail wig and handlebar mustache.  Tinted, wire rimmed glasses distracted from his ice colored eyes. 

He had no desire to meet any of the Miami Detectives.  The route he took from the dock to the big hall was planned thoughtfully in advance.  There were other rolling boxes and crates lining the service halls where few people would notice and the public was unlikely to enter.  He rolled the box to the freight elevator and took it to the first balcony level.  From there he pushed it to a smaller door that opened to a narrow stairway to a lighting balcony.  Reese waited, listened, finally rapped 4 times on the side of the box and unlocked the side.   Opening the side, revealed a panel of tools and cables, he grabbed a hook and pulled that panel out and Martin Castillo unfolded himself out of the box.  Reese noted that Castillo was only sweating slightly after the cramped stuffy ride.  The man had always been able to reach a state of meditative stillness with an ease that Reese envied.

Without a word, Reese signaled the Hispanic to the open stairway.  He did not look, but delved into the box to collect a long toolbox.  Only the most expert observer might have noticed that the man's hands were incased in flesh colored latex gloves, and the box covered any casual observer's view of the proceedings.  Slinging a large roll of cables over one shoulder, Reese mentally ticked over the special contents of his many pocketed coveralls.  Picking up the toolbox with a secret smile he started up the stairs.

Castillo's head was a dull roaring ache.  Moving on automatic while he felt completely unfocused. His skin seemed to be on fire.  Exquisitely aware of the smell of incense, so familiar in flavor.  The odd sounds of chanting, the ring of iron bells and brass.  He felt Reese enter the balcony space and when he looked, images overlaid the man for a nauseating second.  Images too multiple and chaotic to puzzle out.  The older man set down the large tool box and opened it, silently and efficiently unpacked and snapped together a silenced snipers rifle, laid it on the floor and carefully closed the toolbox.  Martin knew what it was, and it bothered him that he did not recognize the make.  He was familiar with every type of assassin's weapon available, just wondering about it let loose another rippling wave of new images.  He turned away to check the balcony again, it was perfect for a sniper's hide.  The balcony rail was masked by a bank of artificial greenery with small spotlights mounted in gaps.  The burning under his skin was ferocious.  He felt pain in his chest.  A voice in his memories said, 'Heart chakra Martin, always beware of pain there.'  Ignoring the voice he rasped,

"Who am I supposed to hit?" 

"You'll know when the time comes."  Reese produced an envelope from a pocket and handed it to the Hispanic.   "Wait three minutes after I leave, then take a look at the picture." 

4:30 PM Dream Coast Convention Center Main Hall

Gina saw the change in Sonny's face.  His eyes were haunted, he knew something.  He hardly needed to say it.

"He's here now.  I can feel it."

Marco looked baffled, and glanced at the older detectives, they exchanged knowing looks with each other.  He wondered why aloud.

"If you say so.  But where do we start looking?  He could be anywhere.  And we still don't know the target."

"I think we do.  The Chinese?  Reese?  Big Money.  It's a hit on the Dalai Lama."

Stan's face became serious, "Marco's got the reflexes, he should stick close to the Target.  The rest of us can be perimeter."

Tubbs let out a heavy sigh,  "You guys remember Borasca?"

Gina and Trudy stared at him. Stan shivered, "Martillo?"

Trudy stated.  "You think.."

"Yeah, now I do."

Sonny's eyes narrowed.  "What?  Think what?"

Tubbs let out a breath with a grimace.  "You weren't there.  Reese was taking Martillo off from the meet in a chopper.  Someone using a laser sight took him out in the air.  Right out of the chopper door."

Sonny accepted this, pausing only a second.

"Higher ground.  Sniper's always go for highest ground." He pointed up with one hand.

"See those?  The spotlight balconies with all the plants?  Perfect place for a sniper."

Trudy spoke quickly, "Sonny, there's at least...10 of them, and a projection booth and control room too.  I checked them all out this morning."

Sonny smiled painfully.

"Well it's afternoon now, things change.  We better get moving.  Just because the appointment's at 9:00, doesn't mean a hit won't happen before then."  He looked directly at Marco then.  "We still need someone to stay close to the target in case we're wrong."  The younger man nodded.

"Yeah.  I just hope my eyes are fast enough."

Everyone looked distraught.  Gina's voice was soft and doubtful.

"Sonny...what do we do if he's there?"

"What ever it takes.  Martin Castillo would expect us to stop an assasin.  That's what we're going to do."

The horror on their faces was disturbing.

"C'mon, we need to split up and cover as much as we can in a hurry."

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