A/N: Sorry; I know I'm a day late in posting this! Thanks to MCR-1993, my lone reviewer, for reviewing chapter nine. It means a lot, and I'd love to know what you think, so please review! :D Enjoy chapter ten! :)

Resurrecting Relationships

Chapter Ten

"It only takes one to make a difference. It takes a little to change. Let's start today for a new tomorrow. Don't look back; I won't look back now."

"Meaning of Life" by Hawk Nelson (Tooth & Nail Records) from Live Life Loud

He had a picture of his target and but he didn't need it. He remembered her perfectly from so many years ago. Eric had a perfect memory. He was Eric again. That was the only way he was going to be able to get through this. Joe Hardy wasn't a killer. Eric was.

Eric had tracked her to a hotel near the end of town. She was staying in Bayport Inn, under the alias of Tatiana Taylor. As if a false last name could fool him. He knew where she was and who she was. And he was going to kill her. He had to. He knew the stakes.

He had already decided that he would do it quickly. And painlessly. He would shoot her in the head. The brain had no nerves. Only the skin would hurt as the bullet passed through, but since the brain had no nerves, she would hopefully feel nothing when she died.

He didn't want her to beg, or cry, or even talk to him at all. He just wanted to get it over with so that his niece and nephew would be set free. At the same time, he wondered if he could really do this under any circumstances. Never had he been put in such a position. Could he really murder an innocent girl in cold blood? Joe Hardy most definitely couldn't.

Eric could. Eric had. Eric would again.

He had no choice, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep from turning the barrel to his own head after he had done the deed—to take someone's life was something Joe detested with all of his being. He didn't think he could deal with doing it again, this time conscious of what he was doing. Even if he let his Eric instincts take control, Joe was right there. Joe knew what he was doing. And it was killing him.

He had watched her get out of her car and walk briskly into the hotel. About fifteen minutes later, he had entered and inquired about her using the pretense of being an old friend. He had found out that she was staying on the third floor, in room 306. Now he was standing outside the door, the handgun in his jacket pocket, the dagger strapped to his left calf for easy access. He'd left the sniper rifle in the trunk of the car he'd found waiting for him a few blocks away from where he'd been dropped off—compliments of the Assassins Superior. He wouldn't need it.

He was working up his nerve. He was going to burst in and shoot before she could utter a word. It would be over with before he could make any kind of connection with her, before either one of them knew what was happening. That was the only way he could do this. And he had to do this.

If he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he might have heard the murmuring voices from behind the door and known that there was more than one person in the hotel room. But he wasn't paying attention. Not really. He took a deep breath, pulling the small but deadly handgun from his jacket. He jumped back and kicked the door open and barreled into the room.

He froze.

Three people were in the room: Tatiana Rodgers, Jacob Prito, and his daughter, Joline.

"Hello, Joe," said Tatiana.

Eric didn't know what to do. And frankly, Joe was a little shell-shocked as well. He kept the gun trained on Tatiana but glanced at his daughter.

"Joline. What are you doing here?"

A ghost of a smile found Tatiana's mouth. "I found these two stowaways in my trunk. Seems they decided to hop in for a ride because they thought I had something to do with your disappearance, Joe."

"I'm not Joe," Joe said. "Not to you. I'm Eric, and I have a job to do."

"Dad—" Joline protested.

"Not now," Joe said. He stared at Tatiana. "What were you about to do to them? Get rid of them for revenge because I killed your family?" He bit his tongue as soon as he said it. Not only did he sound bitter and heartless, like the murder of the woman's family didn't bother him, but he realized he had just admitted to his fifteen-year-old daughter that he had murdered four people. He couldn't look Joline or Jacob in the eye. He had to force himself to look at Tatiana, and what he saw there was a surprise.

She didn't look fazed in the least. Actually, she was smiling. "Joe, I would never hurt these kids. I would never hurt any kid. When I went to grab my purse from the trunk, I found these two huddled in the trunk. Needless to say, I was a little startled but I recovered quickly enough to ask who they were and what they were doing there. Of course, I already knew who they were, since I have been watching you and your family for months now…

"I invited them inside. Turns out, I was just as shocked by your abduction as your daughter and her beau were. I was watching after I gave you that note, to see your reaction. When you started crying and when you wrecked…I realized something wasn't quite right. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I wanted to talk to you. I needed to talk to you."

"Mr. Hardy, we did some research," Jacob interjected, glancing warily at the gun Joe still held, even though it was pointed slightly downward now, almost as if afraid his girlfriend's father would turn it on him for being alone in a dark trunk with Joline. "Ms. Rodgers was having trouble remembering her family for some reason. And she wasn't feeling any more emotions or urges for revenge against you for killing them. She wanted to know why."

Joline picked up the story. "Dad, the Rodgers family never existed. Tatiana Rodgers doesn't exist. No British dignitaries were killed when you supposedly mowed down Tatiana's family."

Joe felt weak with relief and disbelief. "You mean…?"

"Joe, we're both victims," Tatiana said quietly. "We were both taken by the Assassins Superior and used for their own selfish agenda. I'm not exactly sure what my importance was, but the point is, you didn't kill anybody. We were both implanted with false memories somehow. I was given a need for revenge. You were implanted with memories as well, but they were somehow buried and only emerged when something triggered them—that note I sent. We were both manipulated by the Assassins Superior."

"Thank God." That was all Joe could say. He wasn't a killer! Then he remembered Darren and Jessi Marie. If they were going to survive, he would have to become one, though.

As if she could read his mind, Joline said, "Dad, Darren and Jessi will be okay. I know it. Darren will do anything to keep Jessi Marie safe and they'll escape if they haven't already. I have the utmost faith in my cousins. You aren't a killer, Daddy. You never have been. Now that we're all together, we can surely find them. You know you can't go through with it."

Joe nodded wearily. "I know. I think I've always known." He put the gun back in his jacket and looked at Tatiana. "Do you have any idea who you really are?"

The beautiful woman shook her head. "No. I have no memory of a previous life. I only vaguely remember the life the Assassins Superior created for me. I don't have any idea what made me think twice about that life. Something to do with you, I guess. I just don't know what triggered it."

"There's a lot we don't know about all of this," Joe said wryly. "Like what and how the Assassins Superior did all this—their psychological techniques are far more advanced than anything I've ever come up against. I should know…I remember the brainwashing process." He shuddered. "But that's not what's important now. We have to start the search for Jessi and Darren. We have to save them. We have to bring the Assassins Superior down. But first, I gotta call Frank."

The guard's name was Gray Daniels. He wasn't an Assassin Superior. He was a local thug hired by the elite group of terrorists to play babysitter. Along with his "supervisors", the beautiful Anya (now head of the Assassins Superior since her boss had been captured) and another Assassin Superior, a giant of a man named Thomas, he had kidnapped Joe, Jessi, and Darren.

And now while Anya and Thomas, apparently the only remaining Assassin Superiors in freedom, were out doing whatever Assassin Superiors with evil plots do, he was guarding the two brats that were being held in the basement.

Their base right now was an old, dilapidated farmhouse in Greshem, which was a town bordering Bayport. They had chosen this place because it was out of town but close enough to be right in the middle of the action.

Gray had no scruples. At least, not with the amount of money the Assassins Superior were going to pay him for doing this. If it meant watching over and possibly killing two kids, so be it. It was worth one and a half million dollars.

What he didn't know was that the Assassins would shoot him when he had fulfilled his usefulness and the money that had never existed would never be paid.

He was pacing in front of the basement door, fingering the gun in the holster on his hip, when he heard the scream. There was a thud. Someone was crying. That little girl! "HEEEELLP! Is somebody up there? My big brudder's hurt!"

Grumbling because no harm was to come to the kids unless Anya or Thomas ordered it, Gray made his way down the stairs to see what the commotion was about.

The little girl was on her knees, sobbing on the chest of the older teenager, who was lying unnaturally still on the floor. He looked dead.

"What happened?" Gray asked roughly, wondering if one of them died when the order hadn't been given was going to adversely affect his pay.

"I dunno," the girl cried. "He grabbed his chest and fell over. I can't wake him up!"

"Move," Gray ordered sternly, shoving the little girl aside. He had left the basement door open. He hadn't expected her to have the presence of mind to run. While he was bending over the older boy, trying to check for a pulse or something, Jessi Marie edged up the stairs and out the door unnoticed. That part of the plan was complete. Jessi Marie was out of firing range and out of danger. For good measure, she found her way out of the farmhouse and crawled under the rundown porch and hid, having no doubt that her big brother would come for her as soon as he escaped.

Back in the basement, Gray was almost nose-to-nose with Darren when the boy brought back his fist and slammed it into the thug's face. While Gray was down, he wasn't out, but Darren had created the diversion he needed. Shoving past the man with the gun, Darren raced up the stairs, a bullet splintering the wood of the door frame as he passed through.

Quickly finding his bearings, Darren searched for the front door, knowing Jessi Marie would probably be outside waiting for him—that was the plan. The hallway he was in now was shabby and rundown, but he glanced into a partially opened doorway and saw that it looked fancy and newly remodeled—some kind of portable lab. There was a hospital bed with straps on it. He wondered if that was where his uncle had been held, and where in the house Joe was now.

He heard the killer coming, and he knew he had no more time to contemplate. He had to get out of there and send help for Joe later. He raced down the hall and zoomed through the front door. "Jessi?" he whispered, out blinking in the sunlight.

She wriggled out from under the porch, grinning from ear to ear. "We did it!" she smiled, and Darren embraced her. "But where's Uncle Joe?"

"He's on his way. He'll meet up with us later," Darren lied guiltily. He heard heavy footsteps inside the house and knew that the guard was almost on them. He scooped up his sister and glanced around, spotting the solid, compact sports car that had run them off the road in the first place. The keys were in the ignition.

Without a second thought, he raced for the car, a gunshot sounding and splattering the ground next to them. The man hadn't had to miss. He must have had orders not to kill them unless other orders were given, Darren figured. But the man was obviously hoping that Darren didn't know that. Unfortunately for their "babysitter", Darren had figured it out.

The teenager dove into the car with his little sister, immediately ordering her to lie on the floorboard in the backseat to protect herself from stray bullets as he started the car and screamed out onto the road. As it turned out, it was unnecessary. A bullet hit the window next to his head and bounced off. Bullet-proof. Of course.

Darren hadn't seen any other forms of transportation and knew they were safe from pursuit, for now at least. Jubilant at their escape, but still guilty about leaving their uncle with those madmen, he said, "Jessi, you can get up now. Make sure you buckle your seatbelt."

"Where are we going?" Jessi wanted to know as she complied.

"We're in Greshem," Darren said. "It's right next to Bayport. I want to go find Mom and Dad but first we need to get to the nearest police station. So we'll go to the Greshem Police Department and contact the people at Bayport. Hopefully they'll let us wait on giving our statements until we've been reunited with our family…"

He trailed off and glanced in the rearview mirror. Jessi Marie was slumped over in the seatbelt, exhausted. Darren smiled as he steered the car toward the police department, letting his little princess rest in the backseat.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed chapter ten! I'll update soon and please PLEASE review! :D Again, thanks to MCR-1993 for sticking with this story. You are awesome! :)

~Emachinescat ^..^