.1.

The boy was lifeless in his arms yet he continued to carry him to his destination. He had to keep going, just in case his judgement had been wrong and there was still some life left in the young boy. He knew there was not, for the fact that the child's heart had beat its last beat as soon as they had turned onto her street. But yet he carried him to a safe place.

The boy was light in his arms, and had been younger than five years old. It broke Matt's heart to know that a child, as young as this one, had been subject to the torture that had been inflicted upon the small boy. The perpetrators of the terrible crime had almost evaporated into thin air as soon as he had bust open the doors to the old and abandoned warehouse to retrieve the young child. They had all but abandoned their posts and it was a game of every man for himself as they tried to find an escape.

Matt had found him lying on the floor, with nothing but open wounds adorning his body. He had knelt down beside the boy, hearing the young child's heart beating weakly. He had spoken to him, as if he had just woken from a nightmare, telling him that he was there to protect him and take him to safety. He had lifted him as carefully and gently as possible, and the boy had allowed himself to be carried by the stranger. Despite his young years, he was able to understand that the man who had come to his safety was not like the others; the men who had taken him from his family had never spoken to him, they had mentioned his name to the others but had never addressed him personally. He hadn't understood what they were saying. This man had spoken to him, using a soft yet protective voice which had soothed him slightly. His body was weak, tired and he hurt all over. As he looked up at the man who wore a mask covering his eyes, he had wondered if he would ever see his parents again, not realising that he was taking his last breaths.

Matt climbed the stairs to her apartment and banged on her door loudly. It was late in the evening and she had possibly gone to bed but he needed her. It wasn't long before he heard her heart thud at the sudden sound. He heard her get out of bed and walk towards the door barefoot. The door opened and he sensed the shock overwhelm her as she scanned the scene in front of her.

"I need your help," Matt croaked, the sweat from his face trickling down his neck.

"Come," she said, allowing him entry into her apartment. He stepped into her apartment and moved over towards the couch where he laid the boy gently down upon the cushions. He could sense her standing there, her attention fixated on the boy more than on him. "What happened?"

"They tortured him," he said, as she walked past him and knelt down beside the boy. She was feeling for a pulse, trying to find a pulse. He moved towards the bathroom and brought out the medical kit from her bathroom cabinet, and placed it upon the table. "You have to help him."

"Matt..." she said slowly.

"No!" Matt said abruptly. "Help him. Please."

He heard a sharp intake of breath. She rubbed her forehead, something she did when she was nervous.

"I need towels," she said quietly. The boy was gone. She knew it, and Matt most definitely knew it. She heard Matt stride over to the lining cupboard to retrieve the towels, as she examined the wounds on the young boy. They were deep; some new and some a few days old. Matt came to her side with the towels, and she placed one over the young boy's body. "Who did this to him?"

"The Russians," Matt whispered.

"What are they doing with a young boy?"

"I'm guessing he was the son of an enemy of theirs," Matt replied.

"I thought they never hurt children like this," she whispered. "They're playing with fire."

Matt nodded, pulling the mask from his head. The sadness in his eyes was overwhelming for Katharine, but she continued to check the boy for a pulse. All she wanted was to find a faint pulse, to prove them both wrong, to give her hope that there could be something they could do for the young boy but it was proving to be the hardest find. The boy was still, and all life had slipped away. He had gotten away from the danger, but he hadn't gotten away with his life. Matt was silent as he stared unseeingly at the boy.

"He's bled out, Matt..."

He picked up on the sadness in her voice, and he could taste the saltiness of the tears that filled her eyes. He bent his head down in mourning as he listened to her voice.

"There's nothing we can do for him."

"There is something we can do for him," Matt said, his voice low and bitter. Katharine turned to him and watched as he scraped his teeth against his bottom lip. She nodded slowly, looking towards the floor. She knew what he meant, she could feel the anger radiating off him. "I'm not going to let this go... We're getting revenge."