A/N: this is my first csi: Miami fic. Please be kind.

Disclaimer: don't own. Just barrowing.

Prologue: The Boy in The Closet

Bogotá, Columbia

February 5, 2008

0800 hours

Jackson Caine sat in the front passenger seat of the U.S. state department GMC Yukon and scanned the street once again. He turned around and looked at the woman and child in the middle seat, sandwiched between two of Jackson's team. He could see fear in the woman's eyes, as well as her son, Jose. "Usted está haciendo una buena cosa, Maria. Le prometo que sea seguro." He said in Spanish.

"Senor' Morris, I trust you. If you say we are safe, we are safe."

Jack smiled and nodded. "Si', usted es." Jack's alias was Allen Morris, DEA. In reality, he was veteran of the U.S. Army counter terrorism unit known as DELTA force. At present, he'd been with Delta for twelve years. Before that, he was a Special Forces Medic for three years, and before that he'd been a member of the 75th Ranger regiment.

Jack heard the all clear from his radio earpiece and opened the door. "Let's go."

Jack and his counter parts exited the vehicle and checked the street. The SUV was part of a three car convoy. Jack had tried to get the defendants extradited to the U. S. but he'd failed. Also, the Federal Courts Building had no covered parking garage from which to enter the building from relative safety. Jack and his team would leave the safety of their armored SUVs, which had flown with them from Fort Bragg to Mexico City, and be exposed for no more than five minutes before they entered the courts building. But they all knew how much could happen in five minutes.

Jack pushed these thoughts aside, checked the street once again and, when he found no threats, opened the rear down. Then all hell broke loose. Maria wasn't even out of the vehicle yet, when her head snapped backward and her son was covered in a fine pink mist that had been his mother's brain. The men didn't have to be told what to do next. The man who'd been sitting next to Maria didn't care that she was now dead. He barreled over her and covered Jose. Jack checked around them and slammed the rear door, before climbing into the front seat. "GO!" At Jack's word, the convoy roared off, leaving panicked civilians and a dead woman in their wake. Jack reached up and pulled an FN-P90 from the spring loaded rack above and checked the load, even as the truck was doing 65 miles per hour through the packed city streets.

"Get us out of here, Joe!"

"I'm tryin', Jack! These people can't drive for…" But the man's words were cut off as he slammed on the breaks. A truck swerved in from of the lead vehicle and two men jumped out. They were quickly eliminated, but the car exploded as an RPG round hit it. Jack didn't have to say anything. Both cars reversed, but the last car stopped short as another bus blocked their path. Jack turned and saw several men from the follow car on the street, their weapons aimed at the roof. Jack saw men with AK-47 or -74's he couldn't tell at that distance. "Get the kid out of here!" He ordered, and opened the door while simultaneously drawing his sidearm, a Wilson Combat CQB Tactical LE .45 automatic. Tires squealed as he moved away from the vehicle and watched as the truck disappeared down a side street. Then he turned his attention to the men on the street. There were seven, four alive, three KIA, one WIA, but he was still in the fight. Jack saw one man on the roof above him, aimed and fired. The guy dropped like a stone, but three more returned fire. Jack took cover and used it to move to his comrades. The man who was wounded looked up as he approached. "How ya' doin', Bill."

"Gotta get out of here, Jack." Bill said, wincing in pain.

"I know; think you can make it to that side street?" Jack asked, pointing, but being careful to stay in cover.

Bill looked and nodded. "Yeah, I can."

"Guys, make a beeline for the side street on three!" Jack yelled. The others acknowledged and Jack counted off. "Three!" He shouted, standing up but staying behind cover. Jack fired his .45 until it ran dry and scored five hits. Bill was not longer firing, but Jack didn't want to look. When he dropped behind cover, he dropped the empty magazine out of his weapon and slapped in a fresh one. He glanced at Bill; he was dead, a single round through the forehead. Jack swore and punched the car with his fist. Then he grabbed his friend's body and hoisted it onto his shoulders. He didn't bother to returning fire as he ran for the street his team had used for its escape. He just wondered what had gone wrong.

000

Same day

1st Special Forces Operational Detachment- DELTA HQ

2145 hours

Jack cleaned his weapons, reloaded his magazines and prepped his gear for the next mission. But in his heart he knew it would be his last. His terminal leave began the next day and he knew exactly where he wanted to spend it. A place he hadn't seen in almost ten years.

He cleaned out his locker and went to the parking lot, to his baby, a 1967 Shelby GT 500 painted gun metal grey with black racing stripes. He drove to his quarters, which was already packed and awaiting shipping. Jack pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed his father's home number from memory. I just hope it hasn't changed. It rang six times before going to voice mail. "Hey…uh…dad, it's me. It's Jack. I know you offered me a job the last time I visited and I'm wondering if it's still on the table. If it's not…well…anyway, I'll see you when I see you."

000