oOo

He was freezing. The sensation of cold was the first thing Phil became aware of as he slowly regained his senses. It seemed to be all around him, penetrating deep into his bones. Warmth was like a distant memory that he couldn't quite dredge up. He didn't know where he was or why he was so cold, but the question didn't seem too important. He wasn't in any pain and the numbness was almost pleasant in its own right. He didn't have to take care of anything or worry about anything. He thought of opening his eyes, but the effort involved didn't appear to be worth it. Phil would have been content to drift along, when suddenly the memory of what had happened came crashing down on him with the subtlety of an anvil. Phil's eyes flew open in alarm. It seemed to take forever for his vision to adjust and the blurred shapes around him to come into focus, but once they did, his heart sank. He might not have bled to death yet, but he was far from out of trouble, even if the bullet wound didn't kill him. The woman who had shot him was less than a meter from where he was lying on the bloody carpet, rifling through his jacket, which she must have taken off him earlier. Just as Phil was watching with unease, she pulled out his warrant card, turning it over in her hand.

Time suddenly seemed to stand almost still. In slow motion, he watched her turn her head in his direction. Her dark eyes were blazing with madness as she looked him straight in the eyes, her face contorted in a grimace of fury. Phil tore his eyes away from her piercing stare and his gaze fell to the gun in her hand, hanging in a loose grip at her side. He would probably be able to wrestle it away from her, but most likely not before she could fire a shot. If she hit him in the chest or head, his chances of survival were minimal. Phil didn't count on having Emma's luck of surviving a point blank shot to the head. However, if he didn't give it a try, were his chances any better, Phil wondered. He couldn't see his injured leg in his current position, but throbbing pain from the wound, coupled with the cold numbness of the rest of his extremities didn't exactly give him a lot of hope. It was now or never, he decided and with one swift motion he surged upwards and elbowed the woman in the belly.

oOo

Time was passing agonizingly slow. Sam had checked her watch at least five times in as many minutes, convinced that back-up had to be arriving any time, but she had been on the job long enough to know that getting together a response team for a hostage situation took time. Her anxious wait was interrupted by the sudden sound of a second gunshot. Panic filled Sam's mind, despite all her training. The sky was still fairly overcast, but it was getting lighter outside, making it harder to see what was happening behind the curtain. The figure in the armchair hadn't moved, since before she'd checked her watch. It had been deathly still almost the entire time Sam had stood outside watching, and she was starting to think that they might be injured, maybe unconscious, the way the body was slumped.

She couldn't see the figure with the gun, presumably a woman, given the curved outline her body produced against the light. It wasn't an encouraging sign in her mind. She didn't know for certain where Phil was. Maybe with Emma, her mind conceded. Or whether they were still alive, for that matter. Sam waited, but the woman didn't return. Silence reigned over the house. She checked her watch again. Where the hell was back-up? They should be arriving by now. Sam nervously chewed her lip, trying to decide what to do. She could shatter the large window and be inside in a flash. But then what? What if she ended up getting shot herself? It was too risky, even if Emma and Phil were in there.

She had another idea. It was part of the standard negotiation procedure for these kinds of situations anyway. She was just going to hasten the process a bit, she told herself, already knowing full well in how much trouble she would be. Sam pulled out her mobile phone again and terminated the connection the DCI had advised her to keep open. Instead, she speed-dialed Phil's number. She doubted she was going to endanger him any more than he already had endangered himself.

Sam could hear the faint ring of Phil's cell phone inside. It rang three times, five, ten, a dozen. Finally, her call was answered.

"Sam?" The voice was slurred and distorted by pain, but very much familiar.

"Phil! Can you talk?" she asked, immediately going professional, not knowing if the woman had a gun pointed at Phil this very moment.

"I think..." Phil trailed off and Sam could hear him breathing hard. "She's dead."

"Who?" Sam asked, praying that it wasn't Emma.

Phil didn't reply. "Phil?! Who is it? Is it Emma?"

"No...not her," Phil replied, obviously having a hard time forming the words.

Forget this, Sam thought. Still holding her mobile in one hand, she grabbed one of the garden gnomes and smashed the large window. It shattered instantly, showering the patio with glass. Taking care not to cut herself on the sharp edges, Sam stepped through the opening.

"Phil? Tell me where you are," she asked, her eyes already searching the living room. An elderly woman was huddled in a beige armchair, staring at her with fear-filled eyes.

"It's all right," Sam tried to reassure her. "I'm a police officer. Everything is going to be all right." She wasn't so sure about that, but the woman didn't appear injured or in any immediate danger otherwise.

Sam repeated her question to Phil, but he didn't reply. A moment later, she spotted him. She hadn't been able to see this part of the room from outside. The sofa had blocked the view. Phil was slumped against the wall, apparently unconscious, mobile still in his limp hand. Susan Allen, as she'd called herself, was on the floor on her back, the gun between her and Phil. The once light blue blouse visible underneath her black coat was soaked with blood. Sam checked for a pulse, but she already knew the woman was dead.

"Is she..." Sam looked up at hearing Phil's slurred voice.

"She's dead," Sam confirmed. "Where're you hurt?" she asked, already looking him over.

"Got me in the leg," Phil told her. Sam could see that while the wound appeared to have bled a great deal, Phil had at least attempted to self-treat. What concerned Sam more was the blood staining his shirt. Not caring that Phil would probably make fun of her later, she ran probing hands over him, trying to see if he was injured anywhere else, or if the blood was all transfer. Phil didn't even react to her touch; he was out cold. Much to her relief, the only injury was to Phil's upper arm. Blood loss would probably be a problem, but at least it hadn't hit any vital organs. Sam tied her scarf above the injury. Having done all she could, Sam called for an ambulance.

oOo

The rain had let up as the night made way to pre-dawn twilight, but if there had been a useful blood trail that could help them locate Emma, it had long been washed away. Sergeant Smith had decided to request search dogs, but even the animals had only been able to trace Emma's scent about fifty more meters until they'd lost the trace in the middle of the road. Discouraged, the sergeant had decided to call off the search for the time being. Will loathed the idea of returning home. He couldn't help the thought that he was abandoning Emma. She couldn't have gotten far in her condition, he reasoned. She had to be around here somewhere.

Will nearly jumped when a hand suddenly landed on his shoulder.

"Will?" It was Dan. Only now, Will realized that they were the only ones still waiting around.

"Come on, let's go back to the station." Dan smiled, but the expression seemed forced. "There is nothing you can do for her here. You're just going to catch a cold standing around in those wet clothes."

Will nodded. Dan was right. He was wet, tired and exhausted.

"Car's over in the big parking lot," Dan told him.

Will didn't move. As much as he knew that their search was futile, he couldn't seem to make himself move. As odd as it sounded, as long as he was here searching for her, he felt a connection to Emma. A connection to the old Emma, before she had been shot in the head and had her memory of the past four years so brutally erased. As much as he had been trying to tell himself that she was still the same person whether or not she remembered him and the feelings that had at least at one point been between them, what she'd said at the hospital had unleashed a whispering voice of doubt. How could things ever go back to the way they were, after all that had happened?

When looking around for the last time, he spotted a shadowy figure in the twilight. For a brief instant he was filled with hope, but before he could react in any way, the shadow came flying at him, tackling him to the ground hard.

Will instinctively shoved at the figure, but the glint of a knife moving towards his throat stopped him cold. Staring up into a haggard face whose features appeared almost distorted, Will lie as still as possible as he felt the cold metal touch his skin.

Where had Dan gone? Was he all right?

Before he could ponder the question, however, Will felt himself roughly jerked to his feet, the knife never leaving his throat.

"What do you want?" Will tried to speak as calmly as possible, but it had the opposite effect. He felt the blade slice into his skin, warm liquid spilling in its wake. The knife was withdrawn a few millimeters, having made only a shallow cut. The injury itself wasn't what scared Will the most – it would bleed for a while, but certainly not enough to kill him – but his attacker had given a clear demonstration of what he was capable.

Anger was building up inside of him fast, fueled by fear for his life. What had happened to Emma was tragic and they were all hurting for her, but his feelings had gotten in the way. He'd dropped his guard. Instead of wallowing in guilt, he should have kept his eyes open and stayed with Dan, especially when it wasn't properly light yet and Emma's kidnappers were still on the loose.

"What..." Will began, but the renewed pressure on the blade immediately silenced him. He wasn't going to talk his way out of this one.

"Where are your car keys?" the man demanded.

"Pocket."

Will felt the man reach into his pocket. The shift in posture moved the knife an inch away from his throat and Will saw his opening. He yanked up his left arm and slammed it into the hand holding the blade. The blade jerked upwards, painfully slicing into his jaw line, before it clattered to the ground. Will ducked and lunged for the blade. His attacker didn't waste any time either, and soon they were both on the ground wrestling for the knife.

Will momentarily had the upper hand, his strength and training being clearly superior to that of the other man, but a swift kick of a heavy booted foot to his groin caused his grip on the knife to loosen and his attacker quickly pried it from Will's fingers, rolling him onto his back. Will knew he was in deep trouble when he saw the knife making its way toward his throat. He locked his arms against the downward thrust, but leverage was on the other man's side. There was no way he could stop the man from stabbing him. All he could do was buy himself time. As the knife was coming down, Will jerked his body abruptly to the right, causing the knife to come down on his shoulder instead.

oOo

"That's all?" The DCI asked after Sam finished her account of the events at the house. She nodded. So far the older man had listened quietly to what she had to say, but she was sure that an explosion was going to follow any second.

"Well, I don't need to tell you how many rules you broke by going in there after DS Hunter, but from what the doctors told me, you saved his life in doing so."

Sam hesitated for a moment. "How is DS Hunter?"

It had been Jack who had accompanied Phil to the hospital. After her work at the scene was done, Sam had returned to the station, and not really knowing what else to do and not wanting to return home, had started writing her report about the incident.

"He's out of danger. It will be a while until he's back on his feet, though," Jack told her.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. She had already feared the worst.

"You should go home. Your report can wait until tomorrow." Jack looked at her sympathetically. "If you head out now, you might just catch the end of morning visiting hours at St. Hugh's," he added, as if knowing what had been on her mind. Despite what Jack had told her, Sam needed to see for herself that Phil was going to be all right. She didn't want to admit it, but the events of the morning had shaken her badly.

TBC