A/N: It's not December yet, see?! Okay, I'm sorry. I am sneaking this in at the last minute. I've just been crazy busy lately. I'm aiming for around Christmas with the next chapter. Hopefully I'll find some time or inspiration before then and will get it to you sooner. And, only four chapters left in this story! I really can't believe it's almost over...

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Chapter 9

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"So, yes… Dan—"

"Reckless brat!"

"Hmm? Me?"

"No! Him! I warned him specifically not to hang upside down on those wires. And what does he do?"

"What any thirteen-year-old with an unhealthy obsession with ninjas would have. Who exactly did you think you were sending up there to get me? Someone responsible?"

"Yes! Amy was there!"

"You do realize that she's his sister not his mother, right? The kid doesn't listen to anyone; why would he listen to you?"

"... Humph. Well then? What did the little punk have to say?"

"Nothing intelligent, I assure you. I stuck my fingers through the razor wire at the window, careful not to get pricked by it, and started to lift up the pane so that I could see and hear him better. Dan was dressed head to toe in black with a silver tool belt buckled to his harness. His face was turning red from hanging upside down from a wire that was secured to the roof above my room. Naturally, he made some idiotic comment like 'This is so sick! I'm freaking Spider-man!' and then started laughing."

"…never hire thirteen-year-old boys for rescue missions."

"I asked if Amy was there too. He nodded and pointed up. I followed his finger to where another set of fingertips were wiggling in greeting at the top of my window. Amy was on the roof, probably keeping Dan secure and acting as a lookout. Seeing that, I felt my blood start to boil and slammed my fist into the window sill out of frustration. How could I be so tantalizingly close to freedom and yet be completely unable to reach it. Because those bars were an inch thick. Unless there was also a forklift on the roof, this wasn't going to work.

"'You're not getting me out of here. The screen's alarm-sensitive and you probably can't get the bars off either.' I told them, trying to control the anger in my voice.

"Dan raised a lazy eyebrow at me as he flipped right-side-up and told me to wait for it. I opened my mouth to ask him what it was I was supposed to be waiting for when suddenly the room around me plunged into darkness. I blinked rapidly for a few seconds, straining to see anything in the black that envolped me, when a hissing sound outside broke the quiet. I heard Dan fumbling with something on his belt. With a metallic click, light was suddenly visible again, only this time, it was coming from the blowtorch that Dan had just lit. He grinned at me through the flame like a monkey and secured the strap on his welder's helmet before methodically slicing through the iron bars that imprisoned me. As he worked, the rain made sizzling noises as it splattered against the flame. Once or twice, I was afraid that it would burn out altogether, but it held up."

"Well of course. Had you any doubt? This was my plan."

"Yeah. It was my father's house, not Alcatraz. But never mind that. The bars popped off easily after only a few minutes and, since the power was out, Dan was able to make short work of the screen and wire with the knife he was carrying. And I was free... well, almost."

"Yes, we both know what happened after that. There's no need to go into—"

"Go into what? The fact that you botched it up? Now you want to skip things, is that it?"

"I didn't botch anything! You're all still here, aren't you?"

"With no thanks to you. On my way out, I snatched the papers I'd been working on from beneath my mattress and stuffed them in my pocket. Now that I might actually have a chance to give them to you, where was the sense in leaving them behind? I remember climbing onto the broken, jutting bars and waiting as Amy tossed down an additional harness for me to climb into and a second rope. Dan made sure it was hooked up properly and then the two of us started making our way down the side of the building. It was a rush, feeling my stomach fly up against my throat and the excitement pulsing through me. Dan zipped down it like we were racing and landed in the garden below. I joined him in my own time, and we waited for Amy, who I gather, didn't get as much enjoyment out of it as we did. She looked a little green by the time she set foot on solid ground."

"And what did she say to you?"

"Nothing. We didn't have time for words right then. We still had to get off the grounds before anyone realized what was happening. It was dark out and the power outage inside the house only added to the problem. But still we ran. Blindly, it seemed, because I could see nothing in front of me and hear nothing but the roaring rain as we worked our way around the mansion. I was barefoot and kept sliding across the slick grass and stumbling into rosebushes. At one point a sharp thorn sank into my heel and I howled in pain. The two of them halted long enough to tell me to get up and run. There simply wasn't time to stop. Dan's pace before me never slowed or tired after that. Amy was next to me almost the entire time, also struggling it seemed. But I still believe that her reassuring presence was the only thing that kept my heart from bursting out of my chest. I was half elated at being rescued and half wild with fear that we'd get caught—not for myself either, mind you. They'd kept me prisoner for a week and I knew what was coming to me. But if Father ever found Amy and Dan…"

"I shudder to think. He would have killed you too though."

"He very nearly got to do it. We were close to the gate, so incredibly close. We just had to slip around the east wing and we'd be within sprinting distance of the front gate. But it was then that angry shouts started echoing from up ahead. I think I stopped breathing right then as the three of us slammed on the brakes and kept a cautious distance. I remember Dan swearing and Amy admonishing him as we all peeked around the corner of the building to see what was happening."

"Let me guess: your father's armed guard?"

"Wow. It's like you were there—oh wait! You were. And you didn't lift a finger to help us!"

"The entire plan would have been blown if he'd known about my involvement!"

"Right. So that's why you left mere children there to be shot on sight. Might want to mention that little 'misdeed' in your final confession."

"You lived, you mouthy pest!"

"But do you remember the cost? No. I don't suppose it meant anything to you. But to Amy…? That wasn't nothing, Irina."

"…"

"… There were three in total. All toting their Kalishnakovs—bloody Russians. And then there was my father, shouting at the lot of them to the point where he was spitting his words as he pointed emphatically at the gate we were trying to reach. It was a familiar enough scene, but seeing it from the view of the hunted was something entirely new and terrifying. By all rights I should have turned away, but still, I focused on him. I knew he probably had his favourite pistol stashed somewhere on his person. He such a poor shot that he couldn't hit the broadside of a barn with that thing. Not that it bothered him; Father always told me that the real Lucians never dirtied their hands with barbaric warfare. If you were good enough, you didn't have to. Still, he didn't trust even one of his men enough not to carry it."

"Real Lucians?! Oh for the love of--! How about Napoleon? He fought with his troops!"

"He was French. Father doesn't admire the French."

"He was still a Lucian!"

"...Yes, I know. Save the lecture for him, will you? Now, do you mind if I continue?"

"Real Lucians. Honestly!"

"...Right, well Dan turned back around to face the two of us. His eyes were wide and scared, and his shoulders were slumping. The reality that this spy stuff wasn't like one of his video games was beginning to dawn on him. Sounding baffled, he started to relate just how badly everything had gone wrong. The gate was supposed to have been opened by you: it wasn't. And now, somehow, we were supposed to get there, get it unlocked and race to the street all without getting shot or noticed by the guards."

"So what did you do?"

"Amy turned to the both of us and, in an urgent whisper, asked us which of us could throw further. I frowned at her in bewilderment, but Dan was quick to volunteer for whatever she had in mind. She pulled out a revolver from the belt at her waist and handed it over, instructing him to throw it into one of the lower-story windows on the wing we'd come from."

"Well, if you had that, then why didn't you just peg off the guards from there?"

"Because killing people is wrong, Irina. Incredible, I know. But it tends to make everyone very upset. And then there's the tedious business of pretending like you have a conscience—"

"Stop patronizing me! Why didn't you just wound them then?"

"Because I wanted to be with Amy, not piss her off further. And we've already established that I'm quite talented at doing just that. But of course it occurred to me. I might have done it too, but, like Father, I'm also a terrible shot."

"Ha. There's the truth!"

"… We went with the window trick. If I thought I was miserable at pitching, Dan made me feel like I could play for the Yankees. It was about fifty feet away from us and he threw it. Not only did he miss the shot, he threw it twenty feet short! It would have been a complete and utter waste, and I doubtlessly would have made fun of him for the rest of his short life, if not for the fact that Amy and Dan both seem to have horseshoes shoved up their—err…. behinds. The gun, serendipitously, smacked against a metal watering can with the loudest clang that I've ever heard in my life and discharged with a bang. I suppose the firing pin was loose or something. How on earth does anyone get that lucky? It worked for us; I'm not complaining on that end. Afterall, it drew the attention of the guards blocking our exit."

"Unbelievable… just unbelievable…"

"We crouched behind the hedges, praying that all of them would go running past us and leave the entrance clear. I had pulled Amy down next to me and wrapped an arm over her, trying to shield her from sight. She shivered against the rain at my side, her cold, wet arms wrapping themselves around me. Sadly, I was too alert to really appreciate it. Adrenaline was singing in my veins as I counted the seconds, each taking a small eternity to pass. I could hear at least two of them approaching at a run, the light from their torches dancing across the white concrete wall that surrounded the estate. Doubts attacked me. What if they found us? Our hiding place wasn't exactly secure. Would Father really have them shot on sight? Would he kill me too? I just about had a panic attack as the first one appeared wielding his Kalishnikov. The second, with a torch, wasn't far behind him, both conversing loudly in Russian. Amy's arms tensed around me. I knew she was wondering the same thing I was: where was that last one?"

"Did he ever come?"

"No. The two that were there soon discovered the watering can. It was at that point, as one was crouched over it looking for the gun, that the three of us began to creep out of hiding and around the wall. Through some miracle, Father was busy speaking with the third out front of the house and wasn't concentrating on where we were coming from. It was our only opportunity. With the rain pounding down around us, effectively muffling any noise, Dan broke into a run. Amy grabbed my hand and sprinted after him. The bottom of my foot stung where the thorn had pierced it and my strides were much shorter than hers, but I refused to slow us down. I forced myself to run and not to react. One hesitation and it would be over. Somewhere, although it seemed like another world, I heard shouts and screams in Russian. The first shot rang out, the echoes crackling off the mansion and walls around us. I felt Amy flinch and it sent a fresh wave of fear surging through me. This is it, I thought. They're going to gun us down right here. This is how I'm going to die. This is how I'm going to lose her forever."

"But you didn't."

"...If I believed in fate, I'd say we cheated it that night. Because there is no way we should have made it out of the mansion. They were closing in on us and the noise was deafening. The cracks of gunfire began to drown out the rain as the two that we had lured away returned to join the third in hunting us. My father's persistent and increasingly desperate screams could be heard echoing into the night while lightning split the sky and thunder boomed overhead. My feet slapped pavement as we neared that gate sending spasms of pain up my leg. I didn't dare look back, too afraid that if I stopped for even a moment, we'd all be lost..."

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Dan reached the gate first. It was about ten feet high, wrought iron with a coil of barbed wire lining the top. I winced when I saw it, wondering for one panicked second just how we were going to get around it. The gunfire ceased, Father probably thinking he had us cornered, but Dan didn't stop. Like a spider monkey, he leapt at that gate and clambered up it with such speed and skill that I would have sworn he'd been training for this his entire life. Both Amy and I were quick to follow his lead, though not with the supernatural speed that he had. Our pursuers, however, were far from oblivious.

"Stop! Take another step and I'll order them to fire!"

I knew it was Father. In spite of everything that had happened, I felt a tug in my stomach. It was maddening to know that he still had that hold on me. After all he'd done, a part of me still couldn't let go. And it felt wretched not to be able to face him. But at the same time, all of just five feet separated me from freedom. I couldn't stop.

At the barbed wire, Dan fished out his knife and ripped through it with a flourish. It fell away like a coiled snake, pinging softly against the metal. I watched as he jumped off the other side of the gate, landing with a splash in a puddle, and started calling to the two of us.

"Come on! Hurry!"

"Get down, all of you! You have until the count of three!"

The gate was slick and wet and the rain that kept falling in my eyes made it harder to climb. My hands had to grip it tightly to keep me from falling, but it was working. Ignoring Father's threats, I was near the top when I heard Amy cry out. I think my heart stopped beating in that moment and just lay dead in my chest. When I looked down, I saw her crouching on the ground, staring back up at me in defeat. She'd slipped down and cut her wrist on the gate. It was dark, but I could still see the blood dribbling down her forearm as she clutched it.

"Amy! Come on!" Dan was screaming, fear and panic strangling his voice. His hands were fisted around the gate from the other side, "Get up!"

"Give me your hand!" I called to her reached down to try and pull her up to where I was. There was no way in hell that I was just going to leave her there. She hesitated, but quickly caved. Seeing her like that just about broke me; it was impossible to miss the pain that was etched across her face as she slipped her uninjured hand into mine.

I was about to pull her, and would have too, if I hadn't chanced a look behind us at the approaching guard. What I saw made my spirits die. They'd stopped moving altogether to take aim at us. Barely twenty feet away, they stood, guns raised, with Father standing among them with a villainous look on his face as though he'd enjoyed watching us scramble around. I thought right then that we were done for.

"Hey, moron! Pull her up! Pull her up!" Dan was screaming again, his hands rattling the gate from the other side, desperate to save his sister.

"Ian—" Amy tried to speak to me, but my father's bellow cut her off.

"Don't move, boy. Or you both die right here." He told me, gesturing to his guards. I heard the multiple clicks of guns being cocked and aimed at us.

I froze, frightened out of my mind. All I could do was stare at him helplessly, stunned at just how far this had gone. How could he do this? Disowning me was one thing, but killing me in cold blood? Months ago, I would have never guessed he was capable of this. There seemed like such a disconnect between that reality and this one. And still, a part of me didn't believe he'd do it. A part of me thought that he was still my father. And that part wanted to rage and shout some sense into him, but there wasn't a single word in my mouth to do it.

"Ian." I heard Amy call to me again softly.

I glanced down at her to find her staring at me with this pleading, desperate expression. It puzzled me for a moment, though I didn't fully understand why until later. She glanced between me and my Father for one indecisive moment before she seemed to make up her mind. Her small hand squeezed mine.

"This is your last warning—!" I heard Father cry at us and I knew that he meant exactly what he was saying.

"Close your eyes," she told me.

"What?!"

"Please. Just do it!"

"No!" I yelled as her hand slipped out of mine and she jumped back to the pavement and turned to face Father. This couldn't be happening! Amy wasn't really going to sacrifice herself so that we could get away! That wasn't going to happen! I wasn't going to let that happen!

"Dude! Just close your eyes!" I heard Dan yell to me at the last moment, but I ignored him. I leapt off the gate, my feet taking a beating as I crumpled on the ground. I didn't care. I had to save her! I couldn't live with myself if I lost her! None of what had happened between us mattered; she just had to live! But Amy was already walking towards them, her gait steady as ever as she faced certain death. With her back to me, she stared down the three men and my father, eying the guns in their hands. He gave the signal for them to lower their weapons.

"Amy! No!" I cried out racing towards her, already too late to change anything. Out of blind fear and the vain hope that I could stop her, I planted myself between the two of them, once again, trying to protect her. But Amy had different plans. She side stepped around me with a barely perceptable shake of her head as a warning for me to go. I didn't take the hint; I wasn't going to leave her side.

"Surrendering, are we? Perhaps one of you does have a brain…" my father eyed her with thinly veiled disgust and condescension. He shot me a look too, which I returned with equal contempt.

"You can forget it," I snarled at him, "You touch her and the clues are gone!"

Something akin to irritation flashed in his eye and he turned his gaze to Amy who was mute beside me, "I don't suppose you have anything sensible to add?"

I saw her entire body shake when he spoke to her, fear wreaking havoc on her nerves. She bit her lip and lifted her head to him, but the words just wouldn't come. She halted for a few seconds, "I..." but then trailed off into nothing.

Father sniffed at it, "Very well then," he said with an indifferent shrug, "Kill her--"

"--N-No!" she yelled, finding her voice, "Y-You want the power of the th-thirty nine clues?" she stumbled over the words that were at last beginning to flow. I watched her as she spoke, the rain dripping off her face as she glared at him. There was something so subtly powerful in the way she looked, if not in the way she spoke, that seemed to command the attention of everyone. This determination and confidence that I'd never seen in her; it made her seem oddly formidable in spite of the stutter. Father opened his mouth to say something, but she immediately cut him off, "W-Well, h-here it is!"

"Amy—"

"Close your eyes." She warned me again, a biting edge to her voice as she removed a tiny black test tube from the pocket of her jacket.

The first time that you see Orion is impossible to forget. Unfortunately, it's impossible to describe. How can you relate to anyone who's never seen it what it is like to see every color of the visible spectrum all in a blinding white flash that literally cooks your retinas if you stand too close? I don't so much remember the colours that first time (it took me too much by surprise), as the tactile sensations. It doesn't radiate a lot of heat, no, but it has this acrid, metallic smell like burning ashes and copper. The eeriest thing is that it is completely silent except for the soft hiss of air being burned and water being fried.

The shockwave knocked me off my feet and all I could feel was the dry heat on my eyelids. I'd finally taken Amy and Dan's advice and closed them a split second after she dropped at vial between us and it exploded, but it gave me this numb feeling. The next thing I knew, I was enveloped in a cloud of smoke, struggling to breathe through the fumes. My vision was skewed considerably: everything I saw was tinted in greens and yellows. For a moment, I entertained the possiblity that I'd died. But then I began to wonder why the afterlife was green and why everything was so foggy, which was when I realized that I was still alive. But for the longest time, I just lay there, dazed, in a puddle in the middle of the driveway. I wasn't even aware of what was happening until I heard Dan yelling from behind us.

"Come on! Get up! The van's here, let's move!"

I turned my head to find Amy next to me. She was on her knees and shaking with this look of pure horror on her face as she stared at our knocked-out pursuers. Though the rain made it hard to tell, I could see the tears streaming quietly down her cheeks as she gasped for breath. They were all lying on the ground, including my father, unconscious on the path that let up to the house. I know I should have felt something right then, unable to tear my eyes away from his prone body and not even knowing whether or not he was alive. Upset, angry, overjoyed… anything but indifference. But that was it; I felt nothing. And it terrified me.

"Ian?" she spoke to me, her voice shaking horribly, "I-I'm s-sorry. I-I…"

I nodded mutely in acceptance but couldn't speak. At the time, I had no idea what she was even apologizing for. I blinked, trying to get a grip on what I was missing but I couldn't see it.

"Now! Guys! Come on!" Dan's cries became more persistent.

Eventually, I hauled myself up onto unsteady feet, still feeling really weak from the blast. The numbness was beginning to subside and my vision had started to return to normal. Father still wasn't moving. It occurred to me to go check for a pulse, but I hesitated. If he was dead, what was I going to do? And if he wasn't, I didn't want to be near him. That decision made, I touched Amy on the shoulder to get her attention. She was in such a state of shock that she didn't notice it and instead continued to stare at the four men sprawled in the pavement.

"It'll be okay," I told her squeezing her shoulder in comfort, "I promise."

Amy nodded in silence, but I somehow don't think she believed me. I didn't grasp the full magnitude of what she'd done right then or the extent of what it meant for her, but I had a feeling that this wasn't going to be something she could easily forget. How could you really? She gave up everything else to prevent other people from using it as a weapon and yet, the first thing that she did after developing it was just that. It was the ultimate in hypocrisy, but, seeing Amy then, I don't think anyone could have blamed her. I helped her up, though she could barely look at me, too ashamed and horrified at what she'd done. I guided her back to the gate and urged her over it. She was slow to climb it and I had to help her at several spots, but eventually we both clambered over the top to reach the other side and freedom.

It was a bittersweet victory.

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A/N: Next up will be some angst (alas 'tis necessary), some IanxAmy action (finally!) and the beginning of the end...