A/N: Hey guys! Thank you so much for your continued support!

From now on I'll try to update the story more regularly and post a new chapter each Saturday. So... yeah. Enjoy!

December 4th

Only once in his lifetime, Frank Reagan had wished for superpowers. He had never needed them before, firmly believing in the American Dream. A hard-working man could achieve anything he wanted, he'd always thought. That was until his family was breaking apart due to the actions of Harold Wyrdmann.

At first, Frank had been certain that they could beat him, that Danny would rescue his youngest son and that the family would be able to work through their traumas. Nicki especially would need time, but once her two Uncles were safely back home, she would heal. Together they could get through anything, Frank had told himself, strengthening himself right before the stream had been opened.

That's when he'd realized his mistake. Time couldn't mend everything, not everybody could be saved. Frank had not been able to save Stephen Wyrdmann and Danny would not be able to save Jamison Reagan. In this one moment of clarity, Frank had prayed for the power to reach through the screen and yank the vial of poison out of Harold's grasp or to shoot the criminal before he could condemn Jamie to a painful death.

Instinctively, he'd reached out to his son as the needle pierced the skin of his upper arm, unleashing death into the veins of his youngest. Frank would never forget the expression on Jamie's face as he met his fate: the weakness, the single tear that had escaped the self-control of the officer, mixing with both resignation and uncontrolled rage. Jamie had not been able to hide his emotions and they tore a hole through Frank's heart.

He'd almost been happy when Harold left in a hurry, giving his family the chance to say farewell in private. Yet he'd not been prepared for the chaos that followed. Harold's hasty escape had moved the camera's angle a little, so they could still see part of the room and Jamie but not the door, therefore the appearance of the young woman in the cell was a complete surprise.

"What's she doing?", Linda wanted to know, scowling. She'd recognized the mysterious Arabella from the description her husband had given her, although she'd always pictured a more imposing woman. Friend or foe? Frank guessed everyone had wondered while the woman undid the shackles that bound Jamie to the chair and felt for his pulse.

With his hands free, his son had started an attack, marking her as the enemy. But his movements were uncoordinated while hers were efficient, evading a blow and then pulling Jamie off balance with a well-placed push on the shoulders and a swift kick to his ankles.

"Bitch!", Nicki yelled and Frank agreed wholeheartedly. His son didn't even try to get up, holding his stomach and twitching on the ground, his face white. Arabella had looked down at him with an unreadable expression when Danny had entered the scene, further complicating the situation. Frank had only known from his voice that his eldest had come to save the day, because that part of the room was not visible.

"Back away from him!" A command the woman didn't obey until Danny repeated it.

"Get off him, now!" Finally she complied, giving Danny some space, which brought him partly into view. Suddenly a figure loomed behind him.

"Watch out!" Nicki again, but it was already too late. Arabella was screaming something, trying to prevent the inevitable, but a shot had loosened. Blood sprayed from Arabella's shoulder and Frank closed his eyes. Oh, Danny, you fool.

Danny was falling, ripping down the camera in the process. The screen went to static."What happened? Is he dead? Are they dead?" Nicki voiced their biggest fears.

Even now, days later, Frank didn't know the answer, replaying the moments again and again in his head. Sleeping had become impossible. He had to know! Was Danny okay or had his own father sent him on a suicide mission? Would they ever find out? What if neither his son nor Jackie Curatola ever came back?

"Coffee?", Henry asked. Frank shook his head, burying his face in the palms of his hand when the phone rang.

"Reagan."

"It's Detective Curatola."

"Jackie! Wait, I'll put you on speaker."

"Uh, yes, Sir." Somehow she didn't sound very happy, which in turn made Frank nervous. Was she alright? And why wasn't Danny the one calling his family? Was it already too late? With an unbecoming haste for a man in his station, he called down Linda, Erin and Nicki. He didn't feel like the commissioner, rather like a concerned father, so he let his worry show when he asked his son's partner for news.

Frank remembered that he'd admired Jackie's professionalism when she efficiently relayed the events. Other than that, he didn't say much, busy to think of the million ways things had gone horribly wrong. His sons - both of them - were with the Mexican mob, at the mercy of his sworn enemies. Did they already know their guests were cops? And what role did Arabella play in the disaster? Certainly she wasn't on his boys' side, was she?

"Thank you, Detective Curatola. Please return to New York", he said, feeling guilty for leaving Danny and Jamie without back-up but knowing that one Detective was more likely to get herself killed than achieve anything useful.

"Yes, Sir", she replied, sounding about as gloomily as he felt. The Reagans said goodbye and hung up, then started a fruitless discussion about the next step. Linda in particular expressed the urgent need to take action, of course out of her mind with worry. Frank couldn't blame her, but he fought hard to keep his calm.

"This is no use", he said, interrupting yet another impossible rescue plan, "We need more information. Maybe it's time I make some calls of my own."

"Who do you think has the political capabilities to sort this out? Edgar?", Henry suggested. Shaking his head in the negative, Frank pulled out his mobile phone and asked for privacy. He was going to bring his sons home, hoping Jamie was indeed still alive but not being very confident about it.

His youngest son felt like the evil witch in the fairytales that was shoved into an oven at the end. He was surprised that he was, in fact, still breathing. Oh, God, it was hot! Slowly he opened his eyes to a dark room. There seemed to be a million blankets piled on top of him and he was fairly certain the bed itself was heated. Other than the bed, the luxurious room was outfitted with three big windows, a shiny marble floor and a ventilator dangling from the high ceiling that was leisurely rotating the dry air. A thick wooden door was set into the wall to his left, closed.

"What happened?", he whispered, only now noticing the various machines he was hooked to. Medical equipment, looking very modern and functional, was piled around his sick bed. Beeping sounds came from a heart monitor where Jamie could read that his pulse had returned to normal. Normal? What... right, the poison. Casper had tried to kill him. No, Harold Wyrdmann. Or Fire? Confusion washed over his exhausted body and he sighed. He'd dreamed that Danny and Jackie had come to save him, a very vivid hallucination, unless...

"Danny?" No answer, instead Fire came through the door, smiling when she saw him awake. Oh shit. Jamie did not want to deal with that woman, not feeling up to the challenge yet. However, he needed answers, so he inquired where his brother was, making her face cloud over.

"Reagan boys. Can't give a girl a break, I see."

"Where is he?", Jamie growled, his assumption that he had not been dreaming proven right by her evasiveness.

"He's here. And no, you can not see him. He's... indisposed."

"Meaning?"

"Do you know where you are?", she asked, changing topic abruptly. Jamie narrowed his eyes, willing his mind to remember. He and his brother had been arguing about...

"I'm guessing we didn't make it to the hospital", he said grimly, "which means you and your family friends caught up with us." Damn. What a mess. Two cops, the son's of the Police Commissioner of New York no less, in the headquarters of the Herrera family. Or was it three cops? Jackie? His memories were blurry at best.

"Am I a prisoner?", he asked flatly, dreading the answer and at the same time expecting it. His wrists burned with phantom pain at the thought of being confined again.

"A guest."

"Semantics", he countered, hiding his discomfort behind the snippy tone of his voice. The woman seemed to be entertained, she folded her long fingers in front of her and stepped closer.

"You're the lawyer, semantics are what you know best. But why look at the grass when you can look at the stars? Try not to think of this negatively. A week of relaxation, then a nice journey home and you'll never have to see me again." Whatever, he thought, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to negotiate his or Danny's early release. He had nothing to bargain with.

"Can I see Jackie?"

"No, because she's not here."

"So she got away", Jamie gloated, seeking pride in the little things. Fire laughed, making Jamie wince.

"No. I let her get away, that's a big difference", she explained, taking a chair next to his bed and sizing him up thoughtfully. Jamie could feel his self-confidence waver under her piercing stare.

"Men. You always think you're cleverer than us women, don't you? Or is it simply because you're Reagans? I wanted Detective Curatola to get away, to carry the news to your family. I wanted you to tell Danny about your whereabouts. Admittedly, the message within the movie title was well hidden, but come on! And of course you wouldn't simply tell your brother you didn't feel safe." Jamie blushed, remembering his rather thin lie about the meaning of Graveyard. If she had known, then this lead to one conclusion.

"You wanted Danny to follow you."

"That's why I agreed to the second meeting, yes."

"Why?" It made no sense. The whole conversation felt strangely surreal, Jamie thought, secretly pinching his arm to know he was not having stupid dreams. Ouch. Yes, awake and alive.

"Back-up. Danny is one hell of a cop and I trusted his loyalty to you. And because I'm a practical person, I wanted him to take you home. I don't like babysitting, no offense."

"None taken", he answered dryly, not believing her for a second. "Must have been annoying to find out I had been poisoned. Screwed up your whole plan, didn't it?"

"Kind of. Still, things would have been fine, had you boys not decided to go all Rambo on me and try to get to the border on your own."

"So what now?", Jamie asked exasperatedly. Tiredness was making his limbs numb, his lids were getting heavier. However, he still needed to know what had happened to Danny and what would happen to them in the long run. Thinking along those lines just showed how deep in over their heads they were, how little control he had. He despised it.

"Now? Now you rest and I babysit you until you're ready to go home."

"And Danny?" She shrugged nonchalantly, leaning closer to make eye-contact.

"Not my problem anymore. You deviated from the plan, which makes this your mess alone." Without a thought, Jamie's arm shot around her neck, placing her in a choke-hold. He held tight, turned her around so her back was pressed against his chest and slipped out of bed, bracing himself against the sudden vertigo in his head. Things came in and out of focus, his arm around her keeping him up as much as her in check. His hand landed on hers the same moment the touched the hilt of her gun.

"Give that to me", he hissed, leaning against the frame of the bed and applying a little pressure to her windpipe to make his point. A little part of his mind was ashamed of hurting a woman, but this was freaking Fire, so everything he did counted as payback for what he'd endured at the hands of Harold Wyrdmann.

"What do you think you're doing?", she asked sternly, letting her arms fall down to her sides and fixing that unnerving stare at him. He shook his head, taking the gun and pushing her forwards a few steps. Damn, the whole floor was shaking as if during an earthquake. No, he was shaking, sweat sliding down his back. This wasn't gonna work, he could barely stand.

"Take me to my brother", he said anyhow, leaning on Fire for support, who had one arm around his to prevent him from crushing her neck. Her fingers were cool and he shivered in the stream of air that brushed his naked skin when she opened the door. Looking down, he saw that he was not only barefoot, but also wearing one of these partly open hospital gowns. Great. Just great.

Together they stumbled down a set of stairs, funny gray stars dancing in front of Jamie's vision all the while. By the time they reached the landing, he was breathing hard. Luckily nobody had noticed his escape yet, but it was only a matter of time before they would be getting company.

"Wait a moment", he said, wiping sweat from his brow with his free hand. The gun felt heavy in his palm, as did the burden of responsibility on his shoulders. Danny, he had to rescue Danny. He couldn't falter at the base of these stairs.

"Jamie", she tried, gripping his arm tighter when he sank to his knees, taking her with him. "You will never make it. Not in this condition. Can't you see what you're doing to yourself?" Was he imagining things or was Fire actually concerned about his health? Jamie didn't have time to wonder about it, because a head was peeking around one of the countless doors. Nearly white hair, big nose, red cheeks. Jamie winced as the man's eyes widened at the sight in front of him.

"It's alright, Walt. I'm just giving my friend here a tour of the grounds. Go back to your studies", Fire piped up, patting Jamie's forearm around her neck amiably. She smiled reassuringly and Jamie had to agree she probably wasn't in any danger from him. Walt, however, seemed less convinced, so Jamie pointed the gun at him.

"Go!"

"Fine", Walt said, holding up his hands and clearly trying to hide a smirk. Jamie clenched his jaw, knowing how ridiculous he must look. Danny. He had to get to Danny.

"Take me to... him", he huffed, letting himself be more or less carried through the hallways, his feet unable to match her determined pace. Down, down they went, another two flights of stairs which Jamie only managed with an increasing number of breaks. Knowing he'd never make it back up on his own, he pressed for even more speed. His fingers on the gun were slippery and weak, his vision darkening.

Fire, on the other hand, seemed content to be dragged along, not caring whether she had to take the brunt of Jamie's weight. There might even have been a hint of a smile on her lips, Jamie noticed, wondering whether he was again acting like she had anticipated. Was this part of some plan?

"How much further?", he asked, leaning himself and her in the process against the wall. His naked butt touched the cool stone and Jamie jerked away, haunted by the memory of the would-be rape. Adrenaline flooded through him, allowing him to burst through the door which Fire had wordlessly pointed out.

There he was! Sitting on a chair behind medieval looking bars. "Danny!"

"Jamie? What on earth are you doing here? And with her?", his brother asked almost accusingly, getting up to reach for him through the bars. They hugged awkwardly, Fire still lodged between them. Finally Jamie pushed her away further into the small room.

"Damn, kid, you look like death warmed over."

"Right back at you", Jamie said. Both of them chuckled, releasing each other. Immediately Jamie lost his footing and slid down to the ground, closing his eyes against the dizziness.

"Jamie?" His brother sounded worried, so he gave him a tired thumbs-up.

"Right here. Need a... a moment."

"No problem, we'll get out of here in no time and then you can rest all you want to. Just shoot open the lock, or did you by any chance bring a key?" Had he? Jamie could hardly think straight, glancing at Fire questioningly. She answered that it had been in the room next to Jamie's, they only had to go back upstairs and collect it.

"Shooting it is, then", Danny quipped, standing away from the door. Shakily, Jamie took aim, but Fire stopped him.

"Do that and you won't leave this building alive. Neither of you."

"Why?" With more of a struggle than he thought possible, Jamie pushed himself back up, first to his knees and after a considerable pause to his unsteady feet. He beckoned the tall woman closer again, placing his arm back around her for more stability.

"You didn't bring a silencer and Walt will have informed the rest of the house by now. Furthermore, the grounds are huge and the car-park is guarded closely."

"We would still have you."

"Which I would trump with sharpshooters on the roofs." Already Jamie felt his muscles relax without the commands from his mind. He wasn't going to last much longer.

"Danny...", he warned, letting his arm drop and bringing down the gun with it. His fingers loosened, so he had to act fast. Closing his eyes and hoping for the best, he let the weapon fly through the room, narrowly missing the bars and landing in the waiting hands of his brother. The next thing he knew, his body was collapsing, being caught by Fire. Swiftly her hold on him changed, no longer pushing against him but cradling him close so his head wouldn't hit stone. Jamie was about to thank her when the grip transformed into nearly the same choking position he'd used a minute before, only that they were now in reversed roles and halfway on the cold floor. Her muscular legs brushed against his, further deranging the state of his clothes – if you could call them that - and making him very uncomfortable.

"So what now?", he murmured, still recognizing a classic stalemate when he saw one. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Danny and Fire exchange a long look. Then Danny struck as fast as lightning, his arm whipping down to her shoulder, firing twice. The woman screamed, the lock exploded open and within the blink of an eye, Danny had pulled his little brother to his feet.

"Sorry, Arabella. Nothing personal."

"Yeah, right", she hissed, holding the tiny hole in her upper right arm, close to the other injury he'd given her earlier this week. Danny didn't mistake the fire in her eyes for anything but pain and hatred, thinking to himself that a fearsome reputation didn't make you invincible. He knew from experience.

"Listen, Arabella, I don't want this to get any more out of control, but..."

"But what, Danny?", she asked angrily, watching him as he dragged his brother to the door, carefully opening it. He realized his mistake at the same instance he saw the hallway with all those doors. One scream and all this would be over, they both knew it. Danny whipped his gun around, nearly loosing his hold on his little brother in the process, only to be surprised by Arabellas placid expression.

"Go on", she urged, "I won't make a sound. Knock me out cold, if you must, but do hurry up."

"Why this sudden change of mind?"

"Because you saved my ass all those years ago and I owe you this chance. Plus I won't have to take care of sweet Jamie's safe return home, less work for me."

"What about revenge for that shot?", he asked, one hand still at the handle of the door. Arabella looked at the ceiling, yet it wasn't the gun-wound that got her all worked up, it was this discussion.

"For God's sake, Danny, go! Or else I might think this over again!", she threatened with a predatory smile that spurred him into action. Letting Jamie's frame sag to the floor for an instant, he hurried over to the woman and pistol-whipped her across the temple. No time to be gentle, he reasoned, picking up his human burden again and shuffling down the hallway. Somewhere far above him, an eerie bell sound told him a new day had just begun.