Into the Dragon's Lair *Completed*

[amethyst]

TITLE: Into the Dragon's Lair
(A fictional work based on the CBS tv series 'Without a Trace')
AUTHOR: Deirdre ([e-mail])
RATING: PF -Profanity and AC- Adult Content
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any part of the show or characters. This story is for entertainment purposes only, without profit or gain of any kind.
Summary- What should be an adventurous couple of days away at a Terrorism Summit turns into a trip into HEll for Martin.

THANKS PAM!!!!!!!!!

Author's Note-
This is my 7th WAT fic, but my first here. Some of you might be familiar with the other six, posted on 3 WAT group lists as well as my WAT page:

deeshamrock.home.comcast.net/~deeshamrock/wat.html

If you are Eric CLose fans and familiar with his former show Magnificen Seven I have over 2 dozen angsty /h/c fics about that too on my Mag7 page

deeshamrock.home.comcast.net/~deeshamrock/archive.html




Note - A Dragon can be sometimes defined as a powerful figure and commanding presence. A fire breathing creature with reptilian traits whose lair is a fearsome place, that which he dwells, where he feels protected and invincible.


Prelude
Sunday night
January 23, 2005
Manhattan


Danny Taylor hated the traffic around the airport. At least due to the late hour, he wasn’t stuck in rush hour traffic. It was nearly seven p.m. when he found his way downtown. By the time the F.B.I. agent eased his car in to a parking spot in the Federal Building he had a headache. He didn't need Paula Van Doren lecturing him. He wasn't sure why Missing Person’s Division Directorate left such a cryptic message on his cell phone. He’d been on a fishing boat most of the day off the coast of Miami and been driven from there to the plane, so he been out of communication until he got off the plane and charged his cell phone in the car.

He ran up the hall and through the doors of her office. Just behind it was her conference room; the door was open a crack and he shoved his arm through. Something about the grim faces of his fellow team members Samantha Spade and Vivian Johnson stopped him dead in his tracks. Then, when he saw the two men seated at the table, his heart began to pound. They seldom left Washington, but it was the ashen face of Victor Fitzgerald that caused his stomach to drop. It was as if he'd aged ten years. There was only one person that would cause a ghastly pall like that. What had happened to Martin? His stomach dropped and before he could ask, Paula looked up and saw him.

"Shut the door, please."

"Yeah...sure..." he mumbled, cocking his head to see the video they were watching. It was a very grainy black and white image that was jumping all over the place. "What's going on?"

"Shh!" Van Doren put her finger to her lips.

It was hard to hear the commentary, but Danny knew Spanish better than anyone in the room and the fast spoken words hit him hard. When the grainy image of a bare-chested Jack Malone came up, his face twisted in agony as electrical shock was applied, Danny’s stomach to dropped through the floor.


Sam sat stoicly, not moving or flinching as the horrific details of torture on the two semi-naked male bodies spilled out. Blindfolded and bare from the waist up, they were face down in a shallow pit, with the backs of their heads shattered by bullets. When she dropped her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, Danny felt her unspoken anguish, he knew her that well. Vivian dropped her face in her hands and took a long, shuddering breath.

"How sure are we ?" Sam pressed in a shaky voice.

"Positive confirmation," Will Garrison updated. "I saw some of the tape and heard from a source what those bastards did to Jack and Martin before they were executed - it was barbaric. I got a call from one of our DEA undercover agents that two feds had been kidnapped. By the time he was able to track them down, it was too late. I’ve been in El Paso for a few weeks now, due to the critical circumstances of this investigation, which is why I was able to steal some time with him at a remote location. Looks like they took a wrong turn on a bad stretch of ground and stumbled into something. The only reason I have that piece of footage is because he’s been working undercover with them for a couple of years now and they trust him. He only had a few moments to copy the last portion of the tape, I don‘t have the rest. He couldn’t risk being caught.”

"When?" Vivian asked.

"When was the last message from them?” Garrison prodded, although he was pretty sure of the reply.

“Jack called me on Friday night. He was at the base camp. Martin was being looked over by a doctor, he’d taken a fall. We didn’t talk long, the line wasn’t good. On Saturday I tried all day to call him ...the lines were down.” Sam’s voice was shaky.

“That storm that blew through the area was wicked, it did a lot of damage. Most of the phone lines in that region are still down, it‘s a remote area.” Van Doren scanned her notes as she updated them.

“Jack called me on Friday night too,” Vivian added. “It was late, about midnight. The reception was poor, he’d been trying for hours. He said Martin needed a couple days to rest and that they were staying at the base camp for the weekend. I didn’t really get to talk to him, the line faded away. I tried several times on Saturday but never got through.”

“This afternoon we called El Paso... we thought maybe they got that far...“ Sam sighed hard, raking a shaky hand through her long blond hair. She flicked a gaze at Van Doren and her voice wavered. “Then your call came...” She had a bad feeling when Vivian said that Van Doren was on her way in with news about Jack and Martin. . She thought there was an accident maybe, but never this.

“Yes, I spoke to them just prior. I didn’t want to deliver news like this over the phone,” Garrison relayed, he incorrectly assumed that since Taylor was out of town for several days until just arriving now, he had been out of touch. So he didn’t allow the shocked young man a moment to regroup and reply. “That seems to fit. Our sources down there say they were picked up sometime very early Saturday morning near Chihuahua. I guess they headed out and ran into trouble. He said there was a short chase but their car was shot up. They were tortured on and off until sometime after midnight this morning and once those bastards were satisfied that they weren’t able to tell anyone whatever it was they witnessed, they were executed. I'm sorry, Victor..." Garrison’s voice was cold when he addressed the Deputy Director of the F.B.I who was also now a grieving father. Martin Fitzgerald was Victor’s only son and the ramifications of that loss was echoed on his shattered features.

“I want those bastards, Will,” Victor’s voice was hoarse. “Whatever it takes.”

Danny's head jerked up at the reply. He didn't hear the rest of the conversation when they discussed what efforts would be taken to try to recover the bodies. It was as if he was having an out of body experience. The voices seemed far away and he stumbled from the room, clutching his gut. Later, the others would attribute his odd reaction to shock. But Danny wasn't grieving, for he felt sure his friends weren't dead. But the powerful figure who delivered the news had tentacles that extended deep into all parts of the world. Whatever happened in Mexico, Garrison was a part of it. Who else knew? Had Jack and Martin caught him doing something illegal? Were they still being held prisoner somewhere? What kind of sick game was Garrison playing? Like some federal agents, he'd heard rumors over the years about Garrison playing both sides of the field. But he was such a powerful figure that he had 'ears' everywhere.

He didn't stop until he hit the street, sucking in the cold air that kissed his face. His legs moved swiftly, he seemed vaguely aware of the people on the street that his shoulders came in contact with. He didn‘t stop for quite some time, blinking up at a bright yellow sign blazing the name ‘coffee’. He went into the small coffee shop and hit a booth in the back. A waitress with tired features appeared, holding a pot of hot brew. He wrapped his hands around the ceremic mug, letting his frozen fingers relish the warmth. He hunched forward, his handsome face drawn in a puzzle. The conversation repeated itself and the positive idenification from a kidnapping, torture and execution was overlapped by another conversation. One he'd been privvy to himself just the day before, that contradicted Garrison’s story. He rubbed his throbbing temples and replayed it.

*****
Flashback
Miami, Fla
Saturday Mid-Afternoon
January 22, 2005

"Hello?"

"So how was...the...action...Romeo..." Martin tried to sit up to angle his head to use the phone better. His tender ribs didn’t like that idea at all.


"Martin?" Danny frowned, wondering about the odd speech pattern and sharp intake of breath. A short groan drew his brows together in concern. "Something wrong, Amigo?"

"Nothing that a...little Old West justice...wouldn't cure," Martin vented. He pushed off the rails to try to get more comfortable and dropped the phone. When he went to reach for it, the pain stole his air.

"Huh?" Danny closed one ear and pressed the phone closer to the other one to hear better. The reception was bad. He wasn’t sure if it was Martin’s line or his. There was a huge burst of static and he pulled the phone away. “HELLO!”

“I’m not deaf,” Jack called back, having rescued the phone dropped by his infirmed friend.

“Jack?” Danny pressed the phone closer to his ear. “Where are you?”

“Base camp,” Jack stated. “Listen I don’t have a lot of time, the reception is shitty. Martin’s pretty busted up, black and blue from his ass to his neck, he can barely move. He needs a couple days rest. We’ll head up on Monday.”

“Hurt?” Danny’s voice alerted. “How?”

“Somebody on his team ambushed him, turns out the guy’s been after Martin for awhile. He took a bad fall down the side of a mountain and ripped the hell out of his back. Bruised his ribs and right hip.” He paused and moved the phone over to the bed where Martin was lying on his side He took a couple photos and sent them. “Take a look.”


"Jesus..." Danny winced when the gory image came through a few moments later. Martin's entire back was discolored in varying shades of blue and purple with slashes of crimson. He saw a large blue gel pack peeking out from under Fitzgerald’s hip. "Where are you?"

"About halfway to El Paso, way north of Chihuahua somewhere. The camp is in a remote area. Everybody else left last night for Chihuahua. There was a party at one of the hotels.”

“...old...on...”

“JACK?”

“...Danny...”

“Harvard!” Taylor greeted. “See what happens when I’m not around to watch that skinny ass of yours.”

“...fuck...you...” Martin managed, warmed by the voice.

“Sorry, Amigo, you don’t have the right parts. Try not to bust anything else, I’ll see you Monday.” He frowned when the voice began to fade away.

“...ybe...to...mor..row...”

“So you’re gonna lie low a couple days.” Danny hollered, but the line was dead.


******


Danny lifted his head as Martin's voice faded away. The word 'tomorrow' lingered, smoldering slightly inside of him. For his friends, ‘tomorrow’ had not come. Now he knew why his messages to Jack and Martin had gone unanswered. What happened to them? He didn't know where they were, but he knew they weren't the grotesque corpses in the photo. Not only was the timeline wrong, but the unmarred skin on the back of the smaller man was not Martin. Garrison was lying and covering something up. He also knew that for now, he had to keep what he knew to himself. But he was as stubborn as they came and had every intention of finding his two missing friends. It only took a few minutes to formulate a plan of action. He finished his coffee, tossed a bill on the table, stood up and put the wheels in motion.


********************************

[PlainJaneIAm]

Wow! Great start! Looks like this is going to be action-packed!! ;D

I don't know what to think of this whole situation. Danny knows that Martin and possibly Jack weren't on the tape, but how is he ever going to find them if he can't trust the people he's working with? I hope he'll at least tell Sam, Vivian, and Victor. Between the four of them hopefully they can figure out what actually happened to them.

I love it already! I'm really looking forward to this one and glad you decided to post it!!

[ear906]

Wow! Great start. I can't wait to see where the story goes.

[MrsFitzgerald52]

You did a great start with this and please post more soon!

[sandid]

Hey Deirdre/amethyst, love your latest fic so far. Great job.
I have read many of your other works, and, this promises to be as good, if not better. I look forward to reading your next installment, soon I hope.

[amethyst]

PART 1

Tuesday
December 28, 2004
US District Court
Southern District of New York


Although it was a cold day, the noonday sun was high in a blue sky. Without the wind nipping at their faces, the walk to the neighborhood deli wasn't so unpleasant. As a matter of fact, Jack Malone was glad to rid himself of the warm confines of the Federal Courthouse. He and two members of his elite team of the Missing Persons Unit of the local F.B.I. office were to testify in a murder trial. Danny Taylor and Martin Fitzgerald had not been called yet, but Jack had been on the stand for over an hour prior to the lunch recess. His testimony was completed. The District Attorney had a sound case and he didn't doubt that when the trial was over, Tyrell Davis would be going away for a long time.

"There it is," Danny hollered from in front of him.

Jack nodded and motioned for the two younger men to enter the corner eatery. His growling stomach wasn't shy and didn't require an invite. As he crossed through the doors, his nose was assaulted by the heady mixture of a variety of garlic, meats, pickles, fresh bread and other gourmet delights. Salami of all sizes hung from ropes over the glass counter, which housed rows of meats, cheese and salads. The intoxicating aroma was a candidate to be the poster child for heart disease. The decor and wall fixtures were right out of the early twentieth century and the black and white tiled floors and art deco appeal had not changed in over a century. The crowded tables producing a cacophony of dialects of many nationalities only added to the allure. He craned his neck, stood on tiptoes to worm his way through the crowd and saw the back of Martin's head as the young man got a corner table near the counter. By the time he inched his way to the tiny walnut table the antithetical pair were already squabbling.

"Don't you dare embarrass me!" Danny warned Martin. He saw the sky eyes shifting to the salad side of the large menu. "Eat like a man."

"Last time I checked, you're not picking up my tab," Martin countered. He had no intention of getting a salad but knew it would annoy Taylor, so he was purposely perusing that part of the menu. "I'm not that hungry."

"Since when?" Jack growled, dropping his coat onto the spare chair where the other agents left theirs. "The junk food king of New York giving up his crown?" Malone eyed the handsome younger agent's thirty-two inch waist and flinched. That Martin ate all day and raided the vending machines when the booty stashed in his desk drawers was empty and never gained an ounce annoyed him. "I think not."


"You ready?" Danny pressed, rising and eyeing the short line. "There's a break, we gotta make our move now."

"Benny's original," Jack stated of the sourdough roll filled with Italian ham, several kinds of salami, provolone and mozzarella cheese, olives, lettuce, onions, tomatoes, roasted garlic and hot mustard. "And a large iced tea."

"And for the nanny?" Taylor skirted past Martin and thwacked his head.

"The number six," Martin replied of the Italian roast beef and smoked turkey combo laced with three cheeses, oil, vinegar, lettuce, tomatoes and onion on an Italian roll. "Large coke."

Danny's lean body swiftly skimmed the glass counter and snaked through the crowded area until he was in line. He added his own choice of a pastrami, corned beef and turkey with melted Swiss cheese and sauerkraut nestled with Russian dressing on pumpernickel. He eyed the room frantically until he caught Martin's eye. He jerked his head towards the narrow staircase by the door that led to the lower floor where the bathroom was located.

"Come on, Martin, quick fuckin' around!" Danny hissed of the blue-eyed devil's very slow walk around the long way to meet him.

"Problem Taylor?" Martin said with a guileless face as he approached.

"It's gonna be your problem if I don't make it to the head," the Cuban snapped and headed quickly for the stairs.

Jack was on his cell phone getting an update from Vivian Johnson when Danny returned. He glanced at the counter where Martin was stretching on his toes to reach over and take a large tray. Martin had already made one trip to the table to drop off the beverages, a bag of chips and a bowl of coleslaw, as well as utensils and napkins. Malone hung the phone up and his eye caught a table of very proper women who were right behind Martin Fitzgerald. Four pairs of hawkish eyes were riveted on the tight stretch of fabric that spanned the young man's very lean backside. Having taken his suit coat off, it offered them a grand view. Danny had the misfortune of having a mouthful of soda when one well dressed woman with a prominent British accent offered her comments on Fitzgerald's 'asset'.

"I'd love to tickle his pickle."

Martin frowned in confusion when he approached the table and his friends were laughing and eyeing him. His gaze flicked down to his fly but it was not unzipped. Shrugging, he set the heavy tray lower and waited until each man had taken a plate off. After depositing his own sandwich onto the table, he placed the tray on the floor beside the counter. He immediately lifted the large, green, spicy object from his plate. It was one of the few foods he didn't like.

"Anybody want my pickle?" Martin asked innocently and got even more confused when Jack laughed so hard he began to slap the table and cough and Danny was convulsive, nearly throwing up his soda. "What the hell are you two drinking?" he mumbled, tossing the offensive pickle to the side.

They discussed the trial and their light workload over lunch. Jack was hoping it remained light as the holiday weekend was approaching and it would be a nice break for his team to relax and enjoy it. Jack got the bill while Danny got rid of the trash and empty containers from the littered table.

"Where's Martin?" Jack asked, walking with a fistful of bills toward the antique cash register by the door.

"Take a guess," Danny retorted, nodding to the pastry counter.

"Jesus, where the hell does he put it?" Malone groused of the chocoholic's lean torso. Sure enough two large chocolate cookies riddled with nuts and chips were being placed in a bag, while a layered, white and dark chocolate pastry was already headed for Fitzgerald's mouth.

"I got five that says he doesn’t pay for that one," Danny sniped of the blue-eyed agent's ability to attain gifts from women who fell for the eyes, smile and blush. "See!" he chuffed when a single price was entered on the bakery register.

"Come on!" Jack yelled, hustling Danny out of the door. They had to get back for the afternoon session of the trial.

"Yeah...yeah..." Martin waved them on. He folded the white bag and put it inside his coat pocket. He handed the old Italian woman a ten and thanked her again. He wasn't sure of all of what she said, as it was mostly in Italian, but whatever it was it caused the three younger woman behind the counter to hide their giggles behind their hands as they eyed him. He was nearly out the door when his eyes caught the small television that the cashier had behind the counter. "Can you turn that up?"

He stared intently at the 'breaking news' in large letters across the bottom. The camera from a helicopter was trained on a house in what was identified as Elmhurst, New York. What caught his eye initially was a brief inset photo of Chris Boone, Jack's best friend and a counterpart on another F.B.I. Missing Persons squad. The reporter mentioned a hostage situation and from what Martin could pick up between the lines, Chris had exchanged himself for a female hostage, now weeping hysterically in the background. What chilled Martin's blood was the reporter stating that Boone had been inside for twenty minutes and then shots rang out. All communications were cut off and the gunman was holding an elderly man at the window and threatening to kill him. Martin ran to the door and stuck his head out.

"JACK! JACK!"

Malone's head spun and the urgency of Martin's tone got his legs moving. By the time he got closer, Fitzgerald was updating him and moving aside to let him back through the door.

"It's Chris...a breaking news report. He's a hostage in Elmhurst. He got the perp to release a woman and he went inside, shots were fired." He winced when Malone's dark eyes filled with fear. He knew how close the two were. "They don't know if he's still alive."

"Shit...Shit..." Malone swore and his chest hurt when they showed Chris's photo again. “You had to run up San Juan Hill didn't you?"

"You'd have done the same!" Danny charged. "Look, that's only about seven miles from here. You're done for the day. We'll update the D.A."

"Yeah...yeah..." Jack agreed, putting his palm out for Fitzgerald's keys.

"Here," Martin handed his phone as well. "It's Brendan."

"Brendan?" Jack spoke to one of the agents on Boone’s MP team and kept his eyes on the small television picture. 'What the hell happened? Is this tied to Keith Washington?" Washington was the other team's leading suspect in the disappearance of a model. He had a long rap sheet and a violent temper.

"Yeah," Gavin answered, his eyes trained on the house where his boss disappeared. "We got a tip that he was holding her at his uncle's house. We heard shouting inside when we got to the door. Chris called for backup and the guy came to the window with a half dressed girl. Chris got him to let the guy's teenage niece come out if he went inside. It all went down so fast. By the time NYPD rolled in, Chris was inside. He was talking him down and then there was some shouting, it sounded like the old man tried to get the gun and shots were fired. Then the line went dead. Now's he claims he's gonna off the old man too."


"I'm on my way," Jack updated, "keep me posted. You got my number." He handed Martin's phone back and headed out the door.

The other two watched him walking quickly for the parking lot where they'd left Fitzgerald's car. Both had the same sick feeling in their stomach. What had been a bright afternoon full of teasing and joking conversation had just turned into a gloomy day.

"That just sucks," Danny spat. "That piece of shit for the likes of Chris."

"We don't know if he's dead," Martin returned, laying a hand on the tense shoulder. He liked Chris, who was not only a top notch team leader but a respected agent throughout the Bureau. But he knew Danny went back with him for five years and Jack close to a dozen. As shaken as he was, he knew Danny was gut shot.

"Don't we?" Danny shot back, "Shots fired at close range? His brains are decorating that sick, fuckin'..."

"Alright!" Martin broke into the terse words and gripped Danny's shoulder. "Enough! We got a trial to get back to. I don't want Davis walkin' because your head is screwed up!"

"I'm fine!" Danny shoved the hand away, "and I don't need a babysitter."

"Oh, brother," Martin mumbled when the hot-headed Cuban walked ahead, losing himself in the crowd.

[PlainJaneIAm]

Sounds like they've got a bunch of bad guys they're dealing with at one time... but that's not really unusual I suppose. It'd be really easy for one of those guys to send some of their goons after them in retaliation... I wonder if that's what happened to Martin and Jack in Mexico... Hmm.

I love the women's looks and comments on Martin! ;D That was hilarious! Especially the pickle part. I can see why Jack and Danny couldn't contain their laughter!!

Great update!

[Bright Eyes]

Ooh! This is brilliant stuff!!!

The prologue was fantastic - you could really sense Danny's nervousness at being summoned to the MP Unit and could almost see his face when he set eyes on Victor, Viv and Sam.
And I swear my stomach dropped just as Danny's did when he viewed the 'bodies' of his two friends and colleagues.

Of course, we hoped knew there must be a mistake, but this Garrison guy had me worried up until he said 'I'm sorry' to Victor in such a cold voice. Anyone giving somebody news like that wouldn't deliver it in such a horrible manner.

Danny was right to get out of there - he needed to process everything in his mind. Thank God he had talked to Jack and Martin and had seen the injuries to Martin's back. And that he'd heard the rumours about Garrison.
I'm not surprised he came up with a plan so quickly, but he can't do this on his own. He needs to tell Sam and Viv his suspicions. But I think he should keep Victor out of the loop for a while - he might (however innocently) interfere and put all their lives at risk.


The first chapter proper was also wonderful at setting the scene for what happened.

The beginning was wonderful - full of the banter and teasing we all love so much, and Jack getting in on the act too!

I'm just going to quote some of my favourites:

"Don't you dare embarrass me!" Danny warned Martin. He saw the sky eyes shifting to the salad side of the large menu. "Eat like a man."

"The junk food king of New York giving up his crown?" Malone eyed the handsome younger agent's thirty-two inch waist and flinched. That Martin ate all day and raided the vending machines when the booty stashed in his desk drawers was empty and never gained an ounce annoyed him. "I think not."

"And for the nanny?" Taylor skirted past Martin and thwacked his head.

"Problem Taylor?" Martin said with a guileless face as he approached.

"It's gonna be your problem if I don't make it to the head," the Cuban snapped and headed quickly for the stairs.

And of course, the bit where the 4 women were eyeing up Martin's ass (and may I just say you did a fine job describing it! ) was so funny.

I was drinking coffee when I read the line "I'd love to tickle his pickle." Let me just say, I just managed to avoid spitting my coffee all over my laptop! LOL!!! That line is absolutely priceless!!!!!
And it happened again when Martin so innocently asked "Anyone want my pickle?" Poor Martin!!! ;D ;D

I loved Jack and Danny's comments at Martin getting free chocolate cake. That lady has very good taste!!

But while we were still laughing, it all turned so serious with the news about Jack's friend Chris taken hostage. Danny was right - Jack would have done the same thing if he'd been in Chris's shoes.

I'm guessing this is going to tie in with the Jack/Martin disappearance, so I'm dying to find out the link!!

This is wonderful stuff Amethyst!! Update soon!

[MrsFitzgerald52]

That's pretty funny and you did another great chapter with this one too. Can't wait for more!

[sandid]

What a wonderful web you are weaving, will be interesting to see where this is all going.

Looking to further updates. Great job.

[amethyst]

Part 2


Elmhurst, NY
1:47 p.m.


Jack slowed the fast moving car when he approached the blockcade. He flashed his badge and went through slowing to a stop. His heart was hammering so hard his chest hurt. As he climbed from the car, he eyed the police on scene carefully. His keen gaze was trained on the man giving orders and he breathed a sigh of relief.


Deacon Dennison was an imposing figure. Six inches over six feet and a solid wall of muscle between two broad shoulders, the former Michigan State running back was the commander of the SWAT team called to the situation. He knew before the tred of shoe to gravel hit his ears who was approaching.



"Figured you'd drop by," Dennison noted as Malone took a flack jacket and shed his coat to put it on.


"What’s the story, Deac?" Jack asked, grateful for the veteran on duty.

"It's not good, Jack, I'm sorry." Deac knew how close Malone was with Boone. "Chris seemed to be making progress and then the old man interfered and all hell broke loose. Three shots, can't tell who did the shooting. But Chris's line is dead and Washington and the old man have been at the window once."

"I'm going inside," Jack dictated, eyeing the two story white building. "You keep him talking, keep him at the window. Anybody else in there?"


"No, the old man's daughter was alone with him. We have her down the block. Kitchen's in the back," Deac updated, showing Jack the drawing the girl made for them of the interior. The shots came from the living room and my guess is they're still there. The curtain keeps opening a crack, he's watching us."

"Alright, I'll call you when I get in," Jack stated. He paused to load his gun and noticed the forlorn Brendan Gavin squatting behind Chris's car. He knew how Danny or Martin would feel if they were the partner left outside. He ducked down and knelt by the young man briefly. "Get your head up, you're on duty. Lose that hair shirt, he's the best I ever worked with and he'd expect better from you."


"Yeah, yeah, I know," Brendan managed. "What if he's dead, Jack?"


"Don't you bury him!" Malone growled, leaving the upset agent behind and ducking behind the tall bushes beside the house.


He quickly made his way to the back and eyed the windows. He peered into the kitchen and saw through a sliver to the dining room. His hand tried the door and it was locked. Jack's eyes went upwards and he saw a window above opened a crack. He saw a beat up ladder lying next to the small garage and retrieved it. Five long minutes later, he was quietly bellying through a bedroom window. He took his shoes off and padded quietly through the hall, his eyes below. He ducked into the bathroom and updated Deac on the radio. He kept his eyes on the moving second hand of his watch. Ten seconds after Deacon's voice came over the bullhorn, Malone drew his gun and began to move.

"...okay?" Deac asked. "See, we're leaving."

Washington watched through the window as the patrol cars moved away. The only figure left was the man with the bullhorn. He put his hand to his aching head and eyed the blood splattered shirt he wore. He was so high he couldn't feel the pain, but he was lightheaded and giddy. He was so intent on watching the cops leave, he didn't turn when his uncle gasped.


"Shh!" Jack warned the old man and waved his hand, pointing to the kitchen. He mouthed the word 'go' and the old man didn't hesitate.


Once the old man was hiding safely behind the refrigerator, Jack moved from the small hall at the foot of the stairs into the entry of the small living room. He swallowed his bile at the sight of a blood splatter behind the sofa. His eyes saw the edges of a navy blue pant leg and the familiar expensive shoes Chris wore. He didn't allow himself to recognize the fear nearly paralyzing him.


"F.B.I.! Drop the weapon!" Jack thundered, firing when the assailant wheeled around gun high.


A single shot split the kid's forehead. Jack spit on him as he kicked the gun away. He broke the window glass and signaled to Deacon, then he tucked his gun away and ran to the sofa, shoving it aside. He stopped dead and put his fingers over his eyes, rocking back slightly at the sight of the twisted body. Boone's pristine custom made shirt was now maroon and scarlet. From the angle of his body, he must have been standing beside the sofa and been flung over it, bounced off the wall and landed on his side. Jack knelt and with badly shaking hands, gently turned him onto his back. Blood covered one side of his face and just as Jack's hand moved to the throat to check for a pulse, the sea green eyes opened.


"JESUS!" Jack choked, his hand jerked back in shock. "What the fuck's wrong with you? You scared the shit outta me!"


"...took ...you...s'long..." the wounded blond agent slurred, his hand fumbling and flopping. "...old...man..."


"Old man my ass!" Jack growled, ripping Chris's shirt and discovering the wound just below the left collarbone. He used pressure and hollered back when he heard Deacon coming. "He's alive, get a chopper, he needs to be medivaced to Saint Vincent's. You hit anywhere else?"


"...ruined...Guido's...cut..." Chris frowned of the bullet graze on his head. "...twenty bucks...down..."

"Shut the fuck up!" Jack warned, flinching when the bloody paw found his wrist and latched on. Both of his hands were applying pressure to the wound or they'd be gripping it now.

"...owe you...ten..."


"For what?" Jack asked .

"...landin'...in...hos..hos...pit...al...'fore...year...up..." Chris managed and couldn't hold back anymore. He face screwed up in agony and the burning in his chest and head reached a crescendo.

The cry cut right through Jack, cut him to the core. The sea green eyes went wide and roved around, in a state of panic.


"...hurts...Jack..." Chris gasped. "...cold...cold..."


"Don't you die on me!" Jack ordered in a shaky voice as the sounds of a helicopter sounded.


The eyes found his and locked on. The pale lips opened to say something but no words were produced. The eyelids fluttered shut and the hand slipped from his wrist and hit the grimy rug. Jack closed his own eyes and prayed, prayed harder than he had in his life.
"Please...don't let him die."
******
Tuesday
December 28th
Manhattan
Federal Building
2:02 p.m.


Sam was in the elevator, coming back from lunch when her cell phone rang.

"Spade."


"Sam?" Martin whispered, dodging his head to make sure no one saw him. He'd gone to the men's room and then ducked into an empty courtroom to use the clerk's phone.

"Hey!" Sam's face brightened. "I got the confirmation for the weekend. The place is great, a stone cabin by the foot of the mountains. It's got a great view and very private!"

"Sam, listen to me!" Martin urged.


He hated to do that. He'd been seeing her for six months and been trying for the last four to get her to agree to go away for a weekend. The affair started on a rocky line, each having drunk too much and awoken hung over and horny. The first few weeks it was all physical urges, hot sex and hotter bed games. But it had grown and although Martin knew Sam didn't view the depth of the relationship on the same level he did, he hoped he could change that if they only had more time together. Sleeping over in secret in each other's apartment's was getting stale. He wanted more and this weekend in Vermont to celebrate New Year's and each other was for that purpose. It was the first time she'd shown any interest in expanding their horizons.


"What's wrong?" Sam stepped off the elevator and her brows knit together in concern.

"Get to a television, turn on ABC, they’re covering a hostage situation in Elmhurst live." He paused, hearing her suck in air. She'd had breakfast with Chris this morning and she knew where he was headed. "It's Chris...he's inside and he's down."


"Oh God...Martin..." Sam gasped, running for the conference room and turning the TV on. Vivian was off for the holidays and she was alone in the office. "He's dead isn't he? God, he can't be..."


"I don't know," Martin managed, "Listen I can't talk. I'm using a court phone and I gotta go. I gotta testify. I'll try to call or have Danny call when we get breaks."

"Jack's inside!" Sam hissed, playing the voicemail message on the team phone from Brendan.


"I gotta go!" Martin hung up when an angry court officer glared at him from the hall. He slipped into the courtroom as Danny was finishing up.
*******
U.S. District Courthouse
Southern New York District
2:20 p.m.


Danny returned to his seat as Martin was called. As his partner passed him, he leaned towards him.


"Call Sam. She's keeping tab, Jack's inside..."


"Okay," Danny nodded, slipping out into the hallway.


It seemed like forever until Danny reappeared. Martin answered every question dutifully. He was a good witness, very hard to shake. As the prosecutor began another question, the sky eyes locked onto Taylor's dark ones. Danny held up a piece of paper with 'it's over' written on it. One thumb went up. Martin heaved a sigh of relief, Chris was still alive.
*******
Saint Vincent's Hospital
7:30 p.m


Nobody really wanted the coffee. But it was a ritual they'd each endured too many times in waiting rooms. It gave your hands something to do while your gut was turning to ice. Danny tossed his cup aside, his stomach far too sour to hold anymore. Sam was nursing hers, or using the heat of the cup to warm her hands. His eyes flicked to Martin who was hunched over, tossing his empty cup from hand to hand. Jack was stoic, sitting in the same stiff chair for hours, his dark eyes hollow. Brendan Gavin was pacing, unable to sit for very long. His face was etched with every bit of concern that they all felt. He disappeared down the short hallway, heading for the bathroom again. Just as Danny thought on getting up to stretch his legs, Jack spoke.


"He's gonna milk this for all it's worth," Jack predicted. "He'll be ass deep in nurses and getting hourly sponge baths."


Danny, Sam and Martin all exchanged a trio of worried smiles. Jack was nervous, worried and tired. Fatigue scored every feature and the wrinkled clothes only added to the look. They all knew he was scared of losing Boone.

"You know they came up together?" Danny whispered when Jack rose yet again to walk from the waiting area to the nurses station to inquire on the surgery. "Went through Quantico and got assigned to the same unit. They partnered for close to eight years before Jack got promoted, Chris got one six months later."

"They're pretty tight," Martin agreed and thought on the tall, outgoing, handsome blond agent fighting for his life in surgery. He was quite the ladies man and turned every female head when he entered a room. But he was also one of the best men Martin knew, a tough interrogator, top notch agent and dedicated leader. "Jack's right, he'll have a parade of nurses through his door."

"The man's my hero," Danny grinned, "A real chick magnet."

"Hey...hey..." Sam stood up when a bloodied green scrub garbed doctor approached Jack. Brendan appeared behind the doctor a few steps later.


"How is he?" Jack asked.

"Critical but stable. He lost a lot of blood and one bullet just missed his collarbone. It did some internal damage and bounced around a lot. There were a lot of bleeders. He'll be out of action for six weeks or so, but barring any unforeseen complications, he should make a full recovery."

Danny clapped Jack on the back when Jack turned away from them, rubbing his eyes. Sam gave Brendan a hug and the younger men stepped away to update the others members of their team.

"His arm? Is there permanent damage? " Martin asked. "And what about the head injury?"

"With therapy, he should get the mobility back in his shoulder. The graze to his head was deep and he'll suffer headaches and blackouts. But no major damage was done."


"So he's in ICU?" Sam asked, her mind lingering on the familiar morning greeting he gave her. Now she'd give anything to hear 'Hey sunshine'. "Can we see him?"

"Not tonight, he'll be in recovery for awhile. I believe ICU visiting hours start at ten a.m. You might want to check with the nurse."


"Thanks, Doctor!" Danny said, shaking his hand. He left Martin and Sam and walked down the hall to where Jack was standing alone, staring out the long window. Danny saw the rosary disappear into Jack's pocket. That surprised him, he didn't know Jack had one. He didn't offer any thoughts, he just stood beside his distraught friend for a long time. "He's too horny to die." He broke the uneven silence.

"Yeah," Jack chuckled, his voice hoarse. "I'm gonna go home. I'll be here in the morning. You and Sam are in charge. Keep Junior busy."

Danny had to smile at that, Martin had been with them two years now but was still 'Junior' or 'Hotshot', depending if Malone was angry at him or not. He knew Jack liked Fitzgerald and hand picked him over dozens of other candidates. The headstrong rookie had grown into a first class investigator. Danny clapped Jack's shoulder as the elevator opened.

"You look like shit, Jack," Danny offered as the weary body trudged for the elevator. He laughed when Jack's single fingered reply came back. He kept that smile and did his own prayer, grateful that they'd escaped the noose again. But he had no way of knowing how quickly the storm clouds would return and threaten to claim more victims from the close unit.
*******
Friday, December 31st
Manhattan, NY
St. Vincent's Hospital

The medical resident on call flipped through the chart and scanned the contents. He did a quick study of the patient in the bed and wrote up new orders. He returned the chart to the nurse's station and paused to update the chart nurse.


"His vitals are improving and now that he's responding to questions and is coherent, there is no reason he cannot be transported out of here later today. I want to take new pictures of his skull to make sure, if they're clean, he can go downstairs."


"Yes, doctor."

Chris kept his eyes closed even though he was awake because the light caused his head to throb. He heard the nurses coming and going, adjusting things and pushing him to drink water. Apparently, 'moving fluids' through his system was the big excitement of their day. He felt a light tap on his shoulder and peeled a eye open.

"Sorry, you're due for another series of pictures. But the doctor said if they come out well, you can go to a regular room."

"Good," Chris rasped, nodding slightly. He was very grateful for the service he'd gotten but being in ICU was a bit too close to the morgue for him . A regular room meant one step closer to going home.

[MrsFitzgerald52]

Awesome chapter! Can't wait for more soon!

[PlainJaneIAm]

Great update. ;D

I'm glad Chris is okay. He seems to be a great guy and really close to the team, especially Jack. I thought he was a goner there for a second, but he managed to stick it out. I hope Jack isn't too rattled by his friend's close call with death. It wouldn't be good for him to try to work cases without a clear head.

And I love the little Smarty moment thrown in there. I'm glad Sam agreed to go away for the weekend with Martin. It shows that she really does care about their relationship even though she's hesitant to tell anyone at work.

Update soon.

[specialfrog]

looking good!

[Bright Eyes]

That was a terrific chapter!

I love the Jack you're portraying here - he's much more like the Jack I love!

I felt as if I was there, watching Jack arriving at the scene; climbing up the ladder into the house; getting the old man to safety. And when Jack found Chris, I also thought he was dead.
I jumped just like Jack when Chris opened his eyes! But even though he was conscious, we knew he wasn't out of the woods yet.

I loved the Martin/Sam interaction (I hope they still get to go away on their trip ) and I was able to picture Martin sneaking into the empty courtroom to call Sam.
He and Danny worked well together to find out what was happening.

You could feel the tension in the waiting room - everyone had such a high opinion of Chris, you could sense their fear he wouldn't make it.
Especially Jack.
But thank goodness he pulled through and now a few days have passed, it looks like he's well on the road to recovery.

But this has me worried:

But he had no way of knowing how quickly the storm clouds would return and threaten to claim more victims from the close unit.

Nope, don't like that at all!

Terrific stuff Amethyst! Update soon??