When morning came, after a torturous and utterly ineffectual night, Noah couldn't put off calling Luke's family any longer. Expectedly, they had no idea where Luke had gone, and became extremely worried once Noah admitted that neither did he. Holden told Noah he'll try to find out what he can, and they promised to let each other know as soon as they learn anything. After hanging up, Noah stared at his phone desperately, thinking he'd give anything for an incoming call from Luke to appear on the screen right now. His various attempts to call Luke during the night had, of course, been fruitless. Noah tried to force himself to calm down. If he had no way of knowing for sure where Luke was, he was just going to have to figure it out, and for that he needed to think clearly. It would be very uncharacteristic for Luke to fall off the face of the earth and ignore his boyfriend's calls, so he nixed that option. Unfortunately, that meant he had to assume something had happened to Luke. But what? Who would want to hurt or abduct Luke? He couldn't think of a single –

His insides froze. He in fact knew of someone who wanted to hurt Luke very much; someone who'd tried to kill him twice already. But Noah's father was supposed to be dead. Then again, all the confirmation he had ever received for that was his father's dog tags, which didn't really prove anything. It was surely possible to survive jumping in the water, especially for someone with extensive military training. Maybe he'd only accepted that his father had committed suicide because he so desperately – pathetically - wanted to believe that man had performed some sort of noble act before dying; that he was the victim in some way.

Noah had nothing to go on, but his instincts told him, as much he didn't want to believe it, that this was the most logical explanation for Luke's disappearance. The next question was how to check if this wild theory had any credibility. After giving it some thought, he called the Snyders again, got the number at the Oakdale police station and quickly dialed it.

"Oakdale Police Department."

"Good morning," he said tensely. "I'd like to speak to Detective Montgomery-Hughes, please."

"May I ask what this is about?" the receptionist queried rather testily.

"Tell her it's Noah Mayer."

"Sir, what I mean is what would you like to – "

"Just tell her, and if she doesn't want to talk to me, that is fine."

After a moment's hesitation, the woman on the other end of the line said in a rather frosty tone, "Just a minute." As he waited, Noah pondered how nerve could get you places; it was much more Luke's style than his own, but he was so worried at the moment that any notion of politeness was discarded.

Eventually Margo picked up. "Noah?"

"Hi, Margo," he greeted awkwardly, not really sure how to broach this topic without it seeming absurd, or even why he was addressing a cop he barely knew by her first name. Then again, his slight familiarity with her was what made him hope for her help in the first place. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I could really use your help… something's happened." He took a deep breath; she remained quiet. "Margo, I… think my father could still be alive."

"And what would make you think that?" she asked, in a tone of voice not unlike the one the receptionist had used with him.

He sighed, despite having expected this reaction. "I know this sounds crazy, but Luke Snyder, my boyfriend, he went missing last night. I think my father could have something to do with it."

"Your father is dead, Mayer," she said flatly. "And I'm sorry about Luke, but until he's been missing for 24 hours, there isn't really much we can – "

"He tried to kill Luke," Noah persisted. "Twice. And what proof do we have that he's really dead?"

"You're reaching for straws," Margo replied, though she sounded a little less certain. "This is the police's work, not yours. I understand that you're upset – "

"You know Luke," Noah cut her off again. "You know his family. If something's happened to him and we don't find out, they might never see him again. Me neither."

Margo sighed, and there was a pause, which Noah took to be a good thing. He added, "Please, Margo. I just need you to check if there's any indication that my father could still be alive, especially if he's been near San Diego. That's where I am right now."

"You're definitely right about one thing – this sounds crazy," she snapped, "But I guess I can make a few phone calls."

Noah thanked her and gave her his number. His wait was not a long one – which was fortunate, since sitting around waiting was about to do his head in. Margo called back within the hour, seething with rage.

"Apparently, the FBI doesn't think there's much need to share basic information with the police," she stated, thoroughly pissed. "I'd still be yelling at that guy if I didn't know I had to call you back."

"What did he tell you?" asked Noah, who couldn't really care less about quarrels among law enforcement personnel at the moment.

"Your father was spotted in Oakdale a few days ago," she curtly informed him. "As it turns out, they didn't think it was relevant. Thought he was just looking for a way to flee the country, like he did in New York."

Noah struggled to maintain a level head, as this information would have been enough to shock him senseless were he not completely focused on Luke right now. "What else?"

"Well, they've been theorizing on where he could have retreated to, based on everything we know about him – contacts, history… they've compiled a list of places to check out."

"What places?". Margo protested initially, but relented at Noah's insistence, and he began scribbling down addresses. His heart missed a beat when a warehouse in San Diego was mentioned.

"Like I said, I still think your theory is a bit out there," Margo said, "but when I told them that someone your father almost murdered went missing in San Diego, they couldn't ignore it. They still want proof that he's actually missing, of course, but he told me they'll send in people as soon as pos – "

Noah was barely taking in her words at this point. "Alright, I've got it."

"Mayer!" she said suddenly; he realized his overeager tone gave him away. "You are not to go there on your own, do you understand? Your father's a convicted murderer and you're in no position to be going after him. Let the police and the FBI handle this."

"Thanks, Margo," he breathed and hung up, already scrambling towards the door.

*

As the hours passed, Luke felt more and more like he was in a struggle to hold on to his own sanity. The Col. had not brought him any water since he woke up, and he was not stupid enough to ask for any. He'd taken care to tie the ropes around Luke's hands tightly enough that Luke's attempts to fumble out of them were useless. He wondered if this was the Col.'s way of punishing him for loving Noah. Then again, he reminded himself, the Col. didn't blame Luke for loving Noah – not just that; he blamed Luke for "converting" Noah in the first place, and now thought Luke could reverse what he'd supposedly done.

The Col. returned several times through the night, reiterating his earlier offer in a completely matter-of-fact voice. Luke flatly told him to go to hell time after time, and though he feared the Col. would attack him again, that didn't happen. He began wondering how long it would be before the Col. just killed him. However long it would take for him to lose his patience with Luke, it would surely take a lot longer for them to be found. Luke was certain that Noah was worried sick and looking for him everywhere, but no one even knew Col. Mayer was still alive. What could he hope for? Someone randomly wandering into this warehouse and saving him?

He took comfort in the rays of sunlight eventually pouring in through the window. If it was morning, he wondered, he'd really been here for hours; it didn't just feel like it.

His thoughts were interrupted when the Col. walked back in. "I have to give you some credit, son," he said ponderingly as he sat down. "I didn't think you cared that much about Noah. I suppose you really do believe in what you're doing, don't you?"

"So nice that you've caught on," Luke said with a fake smile. He knew it would be pointless to stall, nothing he did could buy him enough time to survive. He might as well stick it to the Col. as much as he could.

"Well, you had your chance," the Col. sighed, and as he eyed a gun that lay on a shelf across the room, whatever semblance of hope that had been left in Luke's heart died. "If you'd just talked to Noah, he would have listened to you… it's like he said, you don't lie to him. It's a pity that you couldn't make the right choice, couldn't make it easier for everyone: you, me and him."

"Yeah, no one's as good at making the right choice as you are, Col.," Luke snarked. And then, suddenly, the sarcasm slipped away and his eyes hardened. "But understand this – I might not be able to make you pay for what you've done, what you're still doing, but someone will eventually. And no matter what you do, Noah will never be your son again. He hates you… as well he should."

The Col.'s face burned, and even as a bitter smile crept across it, Luke felt immense satisfaction for a moment there. "We'll see who's right in the end," the Col. deadpanned. "Well, I will, at any rate."

The Col. stood up, and though Luke wanted very much to close his eyes, not to have to watch that triumphant expression, he refused to let the Col. know that he was scared. He compromised by casting his eyes downward, but the Col.'s voice was not so easy to block out.

"I should have killed you a long time ago, but your parents and dear old Donovan had to interrupt," he needled, and Luke tried to ignore the knowledge that he won't ever see his family again. Or Noah. "Fortunately, that won't happen this time. You will never hurt my son again, Luke… it's over."

And then a different voice called out, "Too right, it is."

Luke lifted his head so quickly that he was dizzy. His gaze traveled beyond the Col. and again, he couldn't believe what he was seeing, his breath caught in his chest as he stared at what had to be a hallucination. Noah stood there, pointing the Col.'s own gun at him, a darkness in his eyes Luke had never seen.

His skin crawled, his own eyes momentarily snapping shut, as the shot rang out. He was almost afraid to open them, but he did. They fell upon the Col., lying on the floor with blood pouring from the bullet hole in his forehead, dead.

And then upon Luke's boyfriend, still holding the gun, his face contorted with a mixture of a thousand different emotions. But not regret.

Tbc...