Viviane's leg slipped out of Greg's hands and he fell back groaning against the wall with fatigue. He could vaguely make out shouting from outside and the now unmistakeable sound of sirens. He'd been too stressed out before to hear them, but now he sagged against the wall in relief. He craned his neck up again to see how impossibly high the window was for him alone to reach. The sounds of commotion grew louder, but he couldn't make out exactly what was being said. His ribs were starting to make themselves heard again.

Suddenly he had an idea that might work, if he was incredibly lucky. Gathering himself with a tight breath, he straightened and made his way to the guard. He tied the man's arms in front of his body and dragged him under the window sill, then propped him up with his back against the wall. Greg was surprised the man was still out, but he must have hit him much harder than he'd realized.

"Guess there's no choice but to try it," he muttered in distaste. He propped one foot on the man's shoulder and pressed down hard, trying to get as much leverage as he could. Once he'd managed to keep the man from toppling over, he made a lunge and reached desperately for the window sill. After a few tries, he managed to catch a corner with the tips of his fingers.

Scrambling desperately he stomped all over the man's head and shoulders to keep his balance until finally he rested, panting, both arms struggling with the agony of keeping himself hanging. With a groan, he pulled himself higher, getting an elbow over. The push with his legs had sent the guard toppling over, and Greg found himself stranded against the wall. Kicking at the unyielding cement, he strained with all his might to pull his body up, but the pain from his ribs was nearly making him pass out and he could make no purchase. His other elbow managed to catch the sill, but his arms and shoulders were quickly losing the strength to hold him up. Tears stung his eyes every time he struggled, and a strong headache was beginning to form from the strain. Greg redoubled his efforts, but it was no use. His shoulders gave way with a sudden sharp pop, and he fell back with a cry. His feet hit the ground and he felt his knees crack with the force.

Greg lay panting on the hot cement. Only the thought of Viviane kept him from staying down and letting the bomb do its job. Groaning, he sat up and struggled to his feet. It might not be safe, but going through the house was his only chance. Greg walked on unsteady feet to the heavy iron door and shouldered it open, glancing warily down the short hallway. There was only one other door there; probably where he'd been kept before, and a staircase leading up at the end of the hallway. Throwing caution to the wind, Greg ran down the hallway and up the stairs. He paused at the door to the rest of the house, then pushed it open quickly.

#

Glenn burst through the front door, all need for caution gone. He took a few steps into the main part of the house and found himself in the hastily abandoned living room. Just as he'd feared, there were stacks of C4 in all four corners, wired to a central controller which had already been activated. One glance at the ticking numbers — 25 seconds — made his pulse race. A door in the wall behind him burst open suddenly and he brought his gun up instinctively, then dropped it just as quickly.

"Greg!"

Greg almost sobbed with relief at Glenn's familiar presence, at least until he saw the device Glenn was standing next to. A wave of terror froze him in his tracks and he stared numbly at Glenn.

"Go!" shouted Glenn, snapping him out of his stupor. Greg hesitated, but Glenn ran up to him and grabbed his arm, pulling him out the front door. It was only then that Greg registered what the device had been blinking — 20 seconds and counting down. Panic slowed his movements and he stumbled over the front step. He glanced over at Glenn, whose face was set and was pulling on his arm forcefully.

"Glenn—"

Glenn glanced over his shoulder and his face tightened; he grabbed Greg around the waist and heaved him forward. Not expecting the sudden change, Greg cried out, but Glenn was far behind him by now and yelling for him to run. Instinct propelled Greg forward into the circle of police cars, just as a great roaring caught up with him. A scorching wall of heat enveloped him as the shock of the blast sent him tumbling down. He rolled under the car nearest him, covering his head as glass and debris pelted his body. Greg stared back at the house and groaned as the last of the explosion rumbled overhead. A scream broke through his deafened ears and Greg looked up to see Viviane struggling with a medic.

"Glenn!" Viviane shrieked in agony and fought her way through the circle of officers. "Glenn!"

"No! Viv!"

Greg scrambled up from the ground and managed to get in her way.

"No...Glenn..." She went limp in his arms, sobbing hysterically. He could hardly understand her babbling. "Greg, you're okay..." she clutched him tightly, tear-stained eyes seeking out his face.

"Go with the medics," he said hoarsely, making sure his body was blocking her view of the house.

She shook her head vehemently, then groaned as dizziness assaulted her.

Greg turned his head quickly. Through the choking dust he could see that the house was almost entirely obliterated, leaving a smoldering heap of concrete foundations.

Viviane sobbed and tried to stumble past Greg, but he grabbed her and pulled her back into his embrace. She struggled against him, hitting his chest vainly, but he wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her shaking body.

"You can't Viv, it's not safe," he cried, heart breaking at her pleading sobs. Greg stared over her shaking head at the damage, seeing the paramedics working on a limp bundle on the ground, just metres away from the wreckage of the house. The ground around the flurry of activity was littered with debris and fires. He squeezed his eyes shut, bile rising as he realized he'd be right there under that debris if Glenn hadn't pushed him out of the way. His flood of guilty relief was making him almost as sick as the sight of the body being transferred to a stretcher. The ringing in his ears was replaced by shouts from the paramedics, and he was jerked out of his daze by Brass.

"Greg!" Brass' voice penetrated the fog. "The Medevac is leaving! You two get on it!"

Greg glanced down at Viviane in his arms. She was in no state of mind to understand what was going on around her and she stumbled blindly when he moved. He remembered her leg and wondered how she'd managed to stay up this long. Brass was already ahead of them, so he bent down and swung Viviane off her feet, carefully cradling her legs behind the knees. He grunted as sore muscles protested, then hurried after Brass.

Hey, guys. Well, this is as far as I have written down, so I'm taking a little break from this fic until I can decide how I want this to end. I can't decide if I should kill Glenn or not? I'd be interested to hear what you think.

In the meantime, I'll be posting a new fic called Victimology that has the whole team and is much darker and angstier than this one. It has no romance at all. So look for that very soon, and I hope I'll have an answer for this story just as soon as one visits me in the night.