I am so, so, so, so, so sorry that it took me so long to update this. I think I might have one chapter left, but probably more like two.

Thanks to Mademoiselle for being one of my faithful supporters.

Also thanks to all of you who reviewed.

And I do realize that this is a slightly dark story, so I was wondering, should the rating be changed?

Let me know in a PM or review, whichever works for you.

It was so cold. His breath steamed in the frosty air, and his hands shook. He struggled to keep his eyes open, knowing that if he shut them, they would open ever again. Stupid American winters. He thought, realizing that it was Spring.

He stared up at the moon, its cold light radiating down to the cold, cruel earth. The trees were dark monsters, waiting to snatch him, which he would gladly let them do. Amy was dead. He was...a murderer, rapist, terrorist. If someone had come to him know and offered to kill him, he would let them. And then he realized it would be so simple to get rid of himself. Just do what his body wanted: sleep. He shut his eyes, and surrendered to the deep blackness which he had come to love.

Just as he was about to drift off, a hand clamped down onto his shoulder, jarring him awake. "Come with me. Quickly." A deep voice said, and Ian obeyed. He stood, shoving his hands into his pockets, and followed the dark form off into the forest.

They twisted, following little paths that Ian would have never noticed in the dark. He supposed he probably should get to know little things like that, seeing as terrorists were silent people, lurking, biding their time. What better place to do it then in the depths of the woods?

They reached a giant pine, whose straight and orderly branches reached out, like arms, waiting to grab any offenders. The man ducked, and Ian squatted down, unsure. "Follow me." The man said, "Come on."

Ian bent, and followed the man into the giant tree.

Branches reached all around them, but Ian realized that some had been cleared, only on the inside, creating a sort of room. The man fumbled around for a few minutes, walking about, and then kicked at something that Ian couldn't see in the dark. Grunting his approval, the man opened a trap door that Ian cursed himself for not noticing.

The man motioned for Ian to follow, and began descending down into a deep, black, seemingly-bottomless pit. Ian put one foot down, and felt a ladder. Grabbing on to the side of the pit, he lowered himself until he was all the way on, and then he reached up and shut the door.

Dark. Black, thick, inky dark surrounded him, and he began to panic. He couldn't see his hand in front of his face. He moved it closer until he could feel it next to his nose, but he still saw nothing.

Panic gripped him, and he grabbed onto the ladder, hanging on for dear life. His hands shook when he released one to grab on to the next rung. His feet were like lead boulders, stiff, and unmoving.

When his feet finally touched solid ground, he breathed a sigh of relief, and then once more, panic set in. He couldn't see the man who had dragged him down here!

He spun around in a circle, his arms spread, feeling for the man. He whacked him on the forehead, and grimaced. "Oops." He muttered, "Sorry."

The man grunted, and grabbed Ian's hand, and then led him off in another direction. Walking in the dark, Ian couldn't see where he was placing his feet, and tripped and stumbled on the uneven ground.

The man stopped and waited for him, and then rushed off again at his ridiculous pace.

And then there was light, flooding out of a dirt room, which had never looked so inviting before. Ian let go of the man's hand, rubbed the dirty hand on his Armani suit pant leg, and then stepped into the room.

The dirt walls were crumbling, obviously old, and there was an old desk sitting in the smack middle of the room. A girl sat at the desk, looking strangely like, "Amy?" Ian gasped.

She looked up. "Ian!"

"You're alive!" Ian cried, and ran to her.

Never had there been a more joyous greeting. Friend greeted friend, and they wrapped each other in loving, comforting hugs. Both of them had tears streaming down their faces, but Amy's tearful face held a huge smile.

The man grunted something, and Ian turned and saw his face for the first time.

"Vikram?" He asked, causing Amy to gasp.

The man, or Vikram, spoke. "Yes, Ian, I am your father. And I'm here to help you." He motioned for Ian and Amy to pull up chairs behind the desk. He sat behind it, and then clearing his throat, said, "I can help you out of this terrorist mess."

Amy sighed. "No, you can't. Maybe you don't understand. My father, Arthur Trent, is The Cat, and he will hunt me down and find me, no matter what."

Ian nodded, and spoke. "Unless...we pretend to die."

Vikram nodded. "Yes. There is a plane that both of you will be on, that will crash."

Amy blinked. "I think I'm getting it. You want a supposed terrorist attack, except we aren't even on it."

Ian grinned. "They'll publish the passenger list, and they probably won't list who's not on it."

Vikram nodded again, grunting approval. "You'll show to the airport, so that they track you, and know that you're there. You'll miss your flight, but you won't say anything about. It will have to be planned very carefully, if it is going to work. If not, you are at the mercy of Death to the Living."

That's not a cliffie, right? :P

Thanks guys, for reading.

But one thing first...I'm up to 258 views...and only 14 reviews?

That just doesn't make any sense, does it?

I'm not updating this till I have 21 reviews. So...

REVIEW!

Until next time,

-39addict101