As always a huge, huge thanks to my wonderful beta anmodo for betaing this fic.

Out of the past

Chapter 1

Monday 6th December – 2000 hours

He ran down a narrow alleyway, hoping that he had lost the men that pursued him. But with each faltering step, he drew them closer. Sweat drenched his body; the bitter in his mouth had long since given way to a coppery taste. He looked behind himself – hoping the men that would end his life weren't behind him. Suddenly, he felt fire rage through his body and fell to the ground. Managing to crawl behind a crate, he gritted his teeth as he clutched his injured shoulder. He didn't know who he could trust; he was safer on his own. Closing his eyes, he felt blood tickle down his arm again. What could he do – he didn't think he could trust anyone, he would just have to deal with the wound like he did before and hopefully he wouldn't die from it. As he heard orders being yelled in Spanish, he forced himself to stand. He would have to leave New York tonight. Maybe if he made it to Mexico, then maybe he would he safe. But then again, maybe he would end up lying in the gutter with a bullet in his head like his brother had. Scanning the alleyway, he continued his descent into hell.

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Tuesday 7th December – 0830 hours

26 Federal Plaza, Manhattan

Sighing, Jack leaned back in his chair as he looked at the paperwork that covered his desk. He knew he had to tackle it some time soon, but not right now. No it could wait a few more hours. Glancing out of his glass doors to the bullpen, he frowned slightly – his newest addition to the team hadn't arrived yet. This slightly worried him because Danny had quickly developed the habit of being the first to arrive and last to leave. He glanced at his watch. Danny was only slightly late there was no need to panic – he had probably got caught up in traffic. But lateness and panicking came with the job. No. He was just paranoid. Danny would appear in a few minutes, apologising and then work to some unnecessary, ungodly hour to make up of it.

He groaned as he looked at the paperwork again, paperwork that would wait, maybe there would be a case when he walked into the bullpen – but he doubted it.

"Have we got a case yet?" Jack asked as he walked into the bullpen.

"No," Viv groaned. "Just paperwork!" she exclaimed and held her head in her heads for added affected.

Jack smirked at Viv's dramatic expression. Vivian Johnson had been on his team for five years, he knew she was going to move on soon. But she was a great, experienced agent and a great friend. "Danny in yet?"

"No," Viv said as she scanned the office. She liked Jack's newest addition to the team. The kid was young and green, but so enthusiastic and willing to learn. She knew many people had been sceptical about Danny joining the team; she had been one of them and still was to some degree. But the kid was proving them wrong. "Relax, Jack. The kid had drives here from the Bronx, he's probably caught up in traffic," she added.

"You're probably right. But Viv, he's not a kid, he's twenty-five," Jack said with a slight smile.

"Twenty-five!" Viv exclaimed in mock shock. "That's still a baby, in my opinion. Seriously Jack. Compared to me, you and Phil, he's a kid. A good, intelligent, brave kid and will be a damn good agent but he's still a kid."

Rolling his eyes, Jack found himself smiling. Everyone had frowned and warned him about recruiting such a young agent, especially Danny, to his team. They told him that he needed experience not youth. He told them that he trusted his gut and his gut told him that Danny was the right choice and besides he needed to bring youth to the team. He wanted a young intelligent, enthusiastic agent that he could nurture – Danny was that agent. He knew about Danny's rough start in life. He knew about his alcoholism, but that in a funny way, made him more appealing. He had seen life from both sides; he knew all to well about the horrors of the world. He just hoped that he would relax more and be comfortable to push his ideas. He shook his head as he pulled himself out his thoughts.

"Jack, Danny's fine. If anyone knows how to look after themselves, its Danny," Viv reassured as she noticed her boss and friend's distant expression.

"I am sure you're right, it's just…well, I guess it comes with the job," Jack explained cautiously.

"What's with the glum face?" Phil Glanville asked as he strode across the bullpen with a mug of streaming coffee.

"Jack's worried about Danny," Viv explained. "He's not in yet."

Phil frowned and looked at his watch; Danny was only half an hour late. He didn't understand or care why Jack was concerned nor did he understand why Jack had recruited a good for nothing alcoholic to the team. What benefit would it bring? "Danny's fine, don't worry about it, he's probably caught up in traffic," he said in an off-handed way.

"I'm sure you're both right," Jack sighed, as he sat down and grabbed a section of the New York Times. But in the back of his mind he knew there something wrong. His gut screamed to check on Danny now, his brain told him to wait a couple of hours.

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Tuesday 7th December – 1100 hours

26 Federal Plaza, Manhattan

Jack cursed as his next call went to voicemail again. He pulled up Danny's personal file and checked the address before taking a set of keys. Something was wrong, very wrong. There was no way Danny would be a couple of hours later. And the fact that he hadn't called in made his gut churn.

"I will be out for about an hour," Jack called out as he crossed the bullpen.

"Where are you going?" Viv asked but she already knew the answer.

"I'm going to check on Danny," Jack replied. He glared at Phil. Phil was a good agent. In fact, he was a great agent, but Jack didn't understand what Phil's problem was when it came to Danny. As far he knew, Danny had done nothing to Phil. "Look it's out of character for him to be this late and not call."

Phil shrugged. "Fine enough," he said in indifferently. "I will call if we get a case."

Jack nodded before he headed towards the elevators. He stared at the cold metal doors as they slid shut. Something was wrong – very wrong. He hoped that he would knock on the door to find Danny had over slept; even an ill Danny was good at this moment. Lost in his thoughts, he walked across the parking lot to his car, the whole time hoping to see Danny's car fly in. But as he climbed into his car, he knew that wouldn't be the case. He tried to think of positive thoughts in his drive out to the Bronx, but his thoughts kept returning to dark ones.

He checked the address again, as he pulled outside Danny's address. He took a couple of hesitant steps towards the apartment building. He pushed open the half open door in to a stairwell. Neon lights flickered and the paint was peeling off the walls. He heard drunken ramblings and women yelling. He quickly made his way across the filthy, greasy floor to elevator, where he furiously stabbed the button. He scanned the area looking for any sign of a threat. He waited for a while before he yanked the elevator shaft door open – he looked up and down the shaft to find no elevator. He groaned in frustration before he slammed the cage door shut again and stormed up the stairs. As someone stumbled down the stairs towards him, he tried to avoid them without pinning himself against the wall. He had glanced at it before and had observed through the flickering neon lights – the peeling paint and years old blood stains, but his other sense told him that blood wasn't the only bodily fluids. A woman, not more that a girl, stumbled towards him – her eyes glazed, her arms adorned with needle marks. Jack closed his eyes briefly as he came to Danny's door – he knew the federal government didn't pay top dollar but it certainly didn't pay this badly. Why the hell was Danny living in this dump? He deserved better. Shaking his head, he pulled himself out of his thoughts and knocked on the door.

"Danny," he called out. He knocked again when he didn't get a response. "Danny, its Jack."

Jack waited and hoped for a bit longer, before he pulled Danny's key out and opened the door. "Danny," he called out into the apartment.

He quickly moved into the tiny apartment his hands resting on his gun and gasped. In one smooth action, in upholstered his gun and started to move through the apartment – it was completely ransacked, not that it looked like there was much in the apartment in the first place. The small couch had be sliced open, its foam spread around the room like confetti. Books had been pulled from the shelves, boxes had been turned over.

"Danny," Jack called out again as he moved towards the bathroom. But the scene he was met with made him weak at the knees. He grasped the door frame for support, his gut had been right – something was wrong. Very wrong. He closed his eyes and blinked several times as if this would make the image disappear. But it hadn't. The tiny bathroom was covered in blood, so fresh that the coppery smell made him gag. He stared at the blood soaked towels and with trembling fingers he pulled out his cell phone.

"V-Viv," he stammered in a small distant voice. "I need a forensic unit at Danny's apartment ASAP."

TBC?