John was struggling. The dregs of adrenaline that had kept him going to this point were all but gone; every step was becoming a chore. They had been on the move for nearly an hour, save for the frequent breaks he needed to catch his breath. He had no idea how far they'd gone; his ability to perceive distance had been compromised by the darkness. Not that it mattered. Resolve would keep him going until they either reached the road or his body gave out beneath him.

"Oh wow! Three raccoons up in a tree!" Maggie exclaimed from up ahead.

He had set her up with the night vision goggles when the narrow pathways between the trees had become too difficult to see. She'd wanted him to wear them, but he'd insisted it on it being her. Accustomed to working in the dark, he also didn't want the added weight or distraction the goggles would bring.

"This night vision thing is great. I'm so going to have to get a pair…"

Aside from Maggie's occasional exclamations or alerts to obstacles in their path, they had traveled primarily in silence. He figured she was either out of stories or too captivated by the goggles to carry on much of a conversation. Either way he welcomed the quiet. Between his clouded mind and shortness of breath, simultaneous walking and talking was definitely out of the question.

The ex-op knew he was in trouble. The injury alone wasn't fatal – he would have bled out long ago if the bolt had struck something vital. It was the significant blood loss that had him concerned. Even if Harold had managed to arrange some sort of emergency care, the chance remained that it would come too late. Too little blood meant too little oxygen circulating in the body. Starved organs begin to fail, and once started, the process was often impossible to reverse.

His own mortality was something he considered often. Never in the heat of battle, but during the rare quiet moment or while lying in bed, waiting for sleep to come. There had been times in his life when he would have welcomed death – times of profound hardship, failure, or struggle. Harold had found him during one of these times, and convinced him of a greater purpose than the one he had already served. Working with the hacker had allowed him to find true happiness for the first time in years. The thought he could lose it all now to a fool's lucky shot was inconceivable.

"There's a low branch here – watch your head."

Maggie's voice pulled him back to the present. There was just enough moonlight filtering in through the trees for him to make out a large limb hanging in their path. Normally such an obstacle would hardly be seen as problematic. In his current state, however, even something as simple as stooping down was an unpleasant task. "Is there a way around it?" he said, feeling foolish for having to ask.

"Only if you want to go through something that looks suspiciously like poison sumac," she replied, starting under the limb herself. "And that's something I don't recommend."

John sighed. Apparently catching a break even this late in the game was too much to ask. His side complaining fervently, he ducked down and pushed his way blindly through the tangle of leaves. Halfway through, he felt a hand grab his arm and guide him the rest of the way. "Thanks."

"No problem," she said, plucking an errant leaf from his hair. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," he replied with little conviction.

Aided by the night vision goggles, she could clearly see the pain lines etched on his face. "Come on. You set the pace and I'll follow you."

With an extraordinary amount of effort, John got himself moving again. As Maggie fell into step beside him, he could sense her watching him almost as much as she was watching the trail. They'd scarcely gone a hundred yards when he felt his blood pressure sharply plunge. Overwhelmed by dizziness, he staggered several steps before his knees weakened and gave out, dropping him to the ground.

Nauseous, shaking, and doused in a cold sweat, John closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the world from spinning. It was the crash he'd been both expecting and dreading. Shock had finally caught up with him, and it was showing no mercy. His failing body was now calling the shots; even with his specialized training, he was helpless to influence it otherwise. All he could do was hang on and hope the damage wasn't too great.

"John?" Still startled by his sudden collapse, Maggie knelt down and put her hand on his back. He was breathing rapidly, and she could feel his heart beating at an alarming rate. "John – is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head, unable to summon the energy needed to speak. He was vaguely aware of her sitting down beside him and drawing him in to lean against her. It was a simple gesture of comfort and support, and one that he genuinely appreciated. Too sick to care about being caught in the arms of a married woman, he allowed himself to drift just enough to escape the worst of the pain emanating from his side.

Maggie felt John relax a little as she pulled him against her. Despite the warm night, the poor man was shivering, the effects of blood loss having caused his temperature to drop. She adjusted his jacket and rubbed his arms to try and generate extra heat. Not for the first time, she wished the horses were still with them. They would have spared John the stress of walking and their body-warmed wool saddle blankets would have been a bonus.

Moving carefully so as not disturb him, she settled into a more comfortable position. There was no telling how long it would take Harold to reach them, but she hoped it would be soon. The last thing she wanted was to have the man who had come to save her die in her arms so close to rescue.

Maggie sighed. She was still trying to comprehend everything that had happened over the last eight hours. She'd known all along that Alexis and Mark wanted the farm, but she never thought they would kill for it. She also questioned how John and Harold had known about their plans before she did. And why had they chosen to save her? Certainly there were other people in trouble that were more deserving of their attention. She wasn't ungrateful John had saved her life, but she couldn't stop wondering why either.

Her mind drifted back to the horses. She'd been so caught up in the events of the last few hours that she'd failed to keep regular tabs on their progress. Turning off the night vision goggles, Maggie reached into her pocket and withdrew her phone. She was waiting for it to start up when she saw something flash in the distance. At first she thought it was just her eyes readjusting from wearing the goggles, but then it happened again. When the flash appeared for the third time, it split into two steady, white beams. They were flashlights.

Maggie gasped. "John?" she uttered, afraid she would be heard. "John? Someone's coming."

John roused from his doze, disturbed by how easily he had drifted so deep. "Huh?"

"Someone's coming," she repeated. "I can see their lights up ahead."

His awareness ratcheted up several notches at this. His desire to protect Maggie from harm remained, but no surge of adrenaline came to propel him to his feet or send him headlong into a fight. His body was literally spent; even the prospect of endangering a Number couldn't get him moving again.

He knew the chance was good that the lights were coming from Harold and Lionel making their way in from the road. But there was also a chance that their pursuers had escaped and were coming back for another try. If it was Gamble and Sullivan, John knew his only option would be to shoot them. He had no qualms about taking the men out, but it would most certainly jeopardize a successful murder conviction against Maggie's siblings.

Stifling a groan, he sat up in preparation to defend himself and Maggie one final time. His hand was halfway to his gun when his earwig clicked on.

"Mr. Reese – are you there?"

Harold frowned as he fumbled with the various items he was trying to hold. The blanket, flashlight, and leash all interfered with his ability to operate the phone he was using to navigate the dark forest.

Lionel chuckled at the hacker's antics. "Didn't I say you were bringing too much? Maybe you should have brought another set of hands too."

"Good idea," Harold replied, and stuffed Bear's leash into the detective's free hand.

"Hey, how come I get the dog?"

"You're my extra set of hands." Harold tossed the blanket over his shoulder and tucked the flashlight under his arm. With one less item to worry about, he was better able to work the GPS program on his phone.

"I don't like it out here. It's too dark and quiet," Lionel groused.

"Would you rather be in a close quarter shootout with an inebriated gunman?"

"No. I'd rather be home watching the game in my underwear."

"Now that's a disturbing image. Do you expose your son to such appalling sights on a regular basis, Detective? "

"Very funny."

The two men and dog walked along in silence, their bright lights cutting a wide swath through the darkness. Out to the limits of his leash, Bear led the way, his nose actively searching the unfamiliar environment for scents of interest. As they picked their way around bushes and over fallen trees, they remained alert for signs of danger or clues that John and Maggie were nearby.

Harold's GPS was getting spotty signals. Just when he thought he had a lock on their position, the program would pause, recalculate, and report a new location. The variation from place to place wasn't much – all of the points fell within a half mile of one another – but to a city dweller out of his element, any misdirection in the dark woods was disconcerting. Not to mention the valuable time it was wasting.

"Is your boy jumpy?"

"He's never shown a penchant to be. Why?"

"Don't get me wrong: I have great respect for Wonder Boy's marksmanship, but I'd rather not get kneecapped if he hears us trampling around and starts shooting."

Harold seriously doubted John would fire blindly at a sound he didn't know the origin of, but if the effects of blood loss had distorted his mental state, anything was possible. He minimized the GPS program and dialed his partner's number.

"Mr. Reese – are you there?"

"Finch – please tell me the lights I'm looking at are you and Fusco."

"We are in the vicinity, John. Please refrain from shooting at us."

"No danger of that, Harold." His voice had a tired, breathless quality that the hacker didn't like. He chided himself for not getting to the man sooner.

"I'm afraid the GPS program is being a bit vague in this location. It may take us several minutes to pin point your exact position."

"Is Bear with you?"

"Yes, of course, why?"

"Follow him."

A sharp whistle pierced the darkness off to their left. Bear froze, his head, ears, and tail going erect with attention.

"Bear, zoeken!" Harold said, giving the dog the command to seek.

With an anxious whine, Bear lunged forward in the direction of his master's whistle, dragging Lionel along behind him.

"Whoa! Hey! Take it easy, you oversized hairball!"

Over logs, through bushes, and between narrowly spaced trees, Bear wasted no time locating John and Maggie in the dark. After giving the strange woman a cursory sniff, he turned back to his owner and eagerly licked his face.

"Hey, Bear," John uttered, petting the Malinois with badly shaking hands.

"You certainly don't make yourself easy to find. How about next time you go gallivanting in the woods, you…oh, wow…" Lionel's rant ended abruptly when his light allowed him to see John for the first time. Pale, sweating, and visibly laboring for breath, it was a shock to see the normally composed man appear so poorly. "You look terrible."

"Eloquent as ever, Fusco."

"He collapsed about twenty minutes ago," Maggie told Harold as he limped over to join them. "I wanted to do something to help him, but…"

"Unfortunately there's not much anyone can do for him right now, Mrs. Barton. Outside of a trauma center, anyway." Harold wrapped the blanket around his friend's shoulders and knelt stiffly beside him. "How bad are you, John?"

"I might be short a pint – or three."

"The bleeding got worse ever since we took the bolt out. I packed and wrapped the wound like you said, but it just wouldn't stop."

Lionel watched as the hacker pushed aside John's shirt to inspect the integrity of the blood soaked bandage. "Looks like you did a good job, kid."

Harold pulled another rolled bandage from his pocket. "The detective's correct. The stress of walking is what likely caused the continued bleeding, not your ministrations. This is going to hurt, Mr. Reese," he warned, and began to wrap the new bandage tightly over the old one.

John winced as the pressure increased around his side. "You'll find Sullivan and Gamble about a mile and a half back. Maggie can take you to them and their weapons."

"Let's get you back to the car first so Glasses can find you a doctor."

"Can you walk, John?" Harold asked.

"I don't know."

Lionel passed his flashlight and Bear's leash off to Maggie. "You're gonna owe me for this, Superman," he said, bending down and taking John's right arm across his shoulders. "The last thing I thought I was going to have to do today was carry your sorry ass out of the woods."

"I'll try to remember to check your schedule next time I plan to get shot." John grunted as the detective hauled him to his feet. He made an honest attempt to stand on his own, but his legs refused to hold his weight. Dizzy and exhausted, he sagged heavily against the larger man.

"Easy, John. Try not to over extend yourself if you can help it," Harold said as he eased his friend's left arm across his shoulders. He wouldn't be able to take as much of his friend's weight as Lionel, but he knew every little bit helped. He turned to Maggie, who was absently petting Bear's head. "Bear can lead the way, but would you be willing to light it, Mrs. Barton?"

"Of course."

At the sound of his name, the dog's attention had shifted from having his ears rubbed to Harold.

"Bear, vind de auto." (Find the car)

At his co-owner's command, Bear rose and confidently led his humans into the dark.

For John, the walk up to the access road was grueling. He helped when he could, but he tired quickly and had to rely on his friends to drag him along. He could tell his blood pressure was hovering dangerously low. Dizzy, nauseous, and in considerable pain, it took most of his energy just to stay conscious. Even then his best efforts weren't enough, and he knew he'd blacked out on several occasions.

The group made the mile long journey in relative silence. It was hard work and slow going; the unspoken worries about John weighing heavily on everyone's mind. Even Bear seemed concerned, pausing more than once to look over his shoulder and whine. On a stroke of ingenuity, Maggie had donned the night vision goggles again and turned the flashlight backwards to allow the men to clearly see where they were putting their feet.

The cars came into view nearly an hour later. Leaving John with Lionel, the hacker quickly unlocked his vehicle and threw open the backdoors.

"All right, Detective. Bring him over." Together they carefully maneuvered the barely conscious man around to first sit and then lie down on the backseat. It was a challenge getting a person of John's height to fit horizontally on the bench seat and they tried their best to get him comfortably situated. "Mr. Reese? John? Can you hear me?"

With more effort then he ever remembered it taking, John opened his eyes to see who was yelling so rudely in his ear. "Finch?"

"It's me. We're at the car. How are you doing?"

"Tired."

"I imagine you're quite exhausted by now." Harold accepted the blanket from Lionel and tucked it around John's shuddering form. "I realize you're a bit cramped lying back here, but it will help stabilize your blood pressure. Besides, we haven't far to go."

"Yeah, and you'd better hang on," Lionel warned. "I think your buddy here has been moonlighting as an off-road racer."

The detective's comment barely registered with John. He closed his eyes and began to slowly sink toward the pain free world of oblivion. He knew he shouldn't fall asleep. Doing so meant taking the risk that he may never wake up again. He didn't want to die, but he was so tired. Surely a short nap wouldn't hurt anything.

Harold noticed a subtle change in his friend's demeanor. He reached down and pressed two fingers against his throat, finding a very faint, rapid pulse. Although his medical knowledge was limited, he knew enough to know the other man's time was running out. It was time to leave. "Stay with me, John," he uttered, and closed the door.

"Is he going to make it?" Maggie asked as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"I certainly hope so. John's a resilient man, but…" he stopped and shook his head, unable to bring himself to say it aloud. "Thank you for all that you've done for him. I know today hasn't been easy."

"John saved my life. How do you repay someone for that?"

"You take your second chance and live it even more fully than the first. For you, it starts with making sure the people responsible for your years of hardship are punished. Show Detective Fusco where you left Mr. Sullivan and Gamble. Take Bear with you in case they decide to give you trouble. When the men are secure, the detective can give you a lift home."

"But Alexis and Mark…"

"Have been taken into custody," Lionel said. "I spoke with my partner who's been monitoring the farm since this afternoon. They've both been arrested on charges of conspiracy and murder."

"Murder?" Maggie echoed. "But I'm all right. Sullivan and Gamble weren't successful."

The two men looked to one another, silently asking if and how much they should tell.

"There's a lot we need to discuss," the detective said at last. "Let's walk and talk."

"Be careful," Harold said, closing his door and starting the engine.

Both Lionel and Maggie watched as the car drove away, its taillights fading through the trees before vanishing completely. Bear whined and shifted uneasily at the end of his leash.

The detective was about to suggest they get moving when Maggie spoke.

"Alexis and Mark killed Mom and Dad, didn't they?"

"You knew?" he asked, surprised by her question and the calmness in which she asked it.

"I suspected. It was the way their behavior changed after mom died and again when dad was sick. I suppose denial and fear kept me from pursuing my suspicions. Plus they left me alone after their court case was dismissed. At least until now."

"They won't get away with what they did, Maggie," Lionel said. "To you and your parents. We've got people who can make those two bozos they sent after you talk. We'll get a conviction and make it stick. They won't be a threat to you or your farm anymore."

Maggie nodded and swallowed past the lump that was building in her throat. It was good to hear that someone finally felt the same way she did about her siblings, and could see them for who they really were. She could only hope the detective was speaking the truth and not just saying what he thought she wanted to hear. "Thank you."

"You bet. Now let's get going before the coyotes start to chew on those two nimrods."