A/N Like I said, this was inspired by the Kipling poem "If". It isn't going to be a particularly long story and any feedback would be appreciated. Thanks for reading
If….
Don look out across the plaza. This had been a complete waste of time he fumed to himself. A call had come in that a suspect they were hunting had been seen in the square but after a good hour of searching, the team had come up empty handed. In dribs and drabs his people headed back to the SUV's parked at the entrance. Nikki and Liz were already standing by one of the vehicles drinking down as much water as they could get their hands on. Don sympathised; the steel and glass of the surrounding buildings acted like a giant parabola, concentrating the sunlight onto the concrete below and slowly baking everything in its path. Add in the fact that the FBI were wearing their flak jackets and you had one very hot set of agents.
As he squinted against the sunlight he could make out the figures of Sinclair and Granger trudging back towards him, Sinclair was leading the way with his partner a few feet behind. Satisfied that everyone was heading back, Don turned and headed back to the cars to get himself a drink and slake his own thirst. He had only taken a couple of steps when a single, loud shot rang out echoing through the buildings; its resonating sound was drowned out almost immediately by people in the plaza behind him screaming and yelling. He ducked instinctively and headed for the nearest cover. Panicking civilians rushed past him, desperate to get out of danger; he let them go, better to let them run and clear the area naturally. Another shot rang out and the stragglers dived for cover.
Don peeked out from behind the low wall he had taken shelter behind. He quickly assessed the scene, thankful that so many people had managed to leave the area, allowing him a clearer view. He could see David crouching behind a trash can and spoke quietly into his radio to his second in command.
"Sinclair, what can you see?"
There was a pause as David slowly turned his head to look beyond the bin.
"I can't see much from here. Oh god, is that Colby?"
Don tried to follow Sinclair's line of sight, scanning the concrete and walls. At first he couldn't see what David was talking about. A figure was lying out in the open, his back to Eppes. Don could make out the yellow lettering 'FBI' emblazoned across the back. The figure suddenly rolled onto his back, his arm coming up to his head, his left knee rising up to balance him. It was unmistakably Colby. Don spoke in low urgent tones into his radio.
"Granger, what's your situation?" he released the speak button and watched with some relief as the younger agent reached for his own radio. The unmistakable Idaho accent sounded out through his earpiece.
"I'm OK, a bit bruised, the bullet hit my jacket but it didn't go through."
"Ok, stay down. We'll come to you."
"What's going on? Is everyone OK?"
"So far. Keep your head down. We'll provide a distraction. When we do, be ready to run for cover, David, that goes for you too."
Don turned, looking for Nikki and Liz. They had taken shelter behind one of the SUVs and were watching Eppes intently, waiting for his orders. Don quickly described his plan to get Granger and Sinclair out of the danger zone. Once it was clear that everyone understood what they needed to do, Don gave a sharp hand signal and Nikki reached inside the car and turned the sirens on. Immediately, the square filled with harsh electronic sound. Birds that had settled onto the concrete rose once again, wings flapping in panic.
"Now!" Don ordered into his radio. Granger and Sinclair both leapt to their feet at the same time. A shot rang out, sending shards of concrete into the air in front of Granger. The ex soldier carried on regardless but a second shot, also landing in front of his feet brought him up short. A third shot pushed the man off his feet and onto his back on the ground. Sinclair stopped and started to turn to rescue his stricken partner.
"Take cover!" Don yelled into his radio. However, it wasn't Don's barked order that brought Sinclair to a complete halt, a bullet thudded into the ground in front of him followed by another. Sinclair took one last look at where Granger was rolling around on the ground and then fled, taking up his position at Don's side, using the same small wall as cover.
"Damnit!" Don yelled as he reached for his radio.
"Granger, Colby, what's your condition?" he waited but there was no response. He looked out across the space dividing the men and saw that Granger was lying still on the concrete, one hand on his chest, the other on his fore head. He could see Colby's chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Granger, report!" he yelled into his radio
"I'm fine, I'm fine" Both Sinclair and Eppes sagged with relief at the sound of their colleagues voice. They could hear his ragged breathing filling the radio waves as he spoke.
"Stay down. Don't move" Don ordered. He turned to Sinclair.
"Whoever this is, they have deliberately cut us off from Colby. We need to find out where this wacko is holed up and end this before he stops taking shots at his jacket and aims for something more substantial." Suddenly, his phone rang. He reached down and unclipping it from his belt flipped it open.
"Eppes"
"Agent Eppes, listen very, very carefully if you want to get your agent back alive" Don slapped David on the arm to get his attention and then mouthed the words it's him. Sinclair moved in closer, trying to hear what the man holding his partner hostage was going to demand.
"I'm listening" Don replied in careful, measured tones.
"I want the agent in the open, what is his name?"
"Granger"
"I want Granger to get to his knees and put his hands on top of his head, if he doesn't I'll put a bullet through his skull."
" What? Why?" Don craned his neck round the wall to look at the surrounding buildings.
"Oh dear. Do you really think that I would put myself somewhere in plain sight? As to why. Cos I said so. Oh and I'll you and the other guy get to safety, but Granger stays where he is, how I said he is to be." The phone cut off suddenly.
"He can see us." Don said simply. He thought about what the shooter had asked. With a groan he pulled his radio towards him.
"Colby, listen, the sniper has been in contact. He wants you to get to your knees and put your hands on your head."
Sinclair listened to what his boss said in disbelief. "But that's a classic execution pose!"
Don turned to David. "If he had wanted to kill Colby he would have done it already. We don't know what he wants yet, so for now we play it his way." The men watched as Colby got slowly and painfully off the floor and to his knees, he didn't look their way, not wanting to give their position away. He raised his arms and put them on his head.
"What the hell is happening here?" Sinclair demanded.
"I don't know but I intend to find out." Don reached for his radio again. "Hang in there Colb," he said to the stranded agent. Across the plaza he could see Colby give a curt nod to acknowledge that he had heard his boss.
"Let's get back to the SUV, we need tactical down here asap to go through these buildings, flush our new friend out." And with that he turned and headed back to the cars, dragging a reluctant Sinclair with him.