What time is it, kids? It's flashback time!
Kidding—even I couldn't stand another interruption at this point. It's all present-day from here on out...
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Once Don was done cuffing his hands behind him, he raised his head and looked back at his captor. "Now what?" he asked, careful to keep his voice down. If they waited here long enough, Colby and David would show up, hopefully with enough agents to surround the place and force Gillis into surrendering. On the other hand, if he stalled too obviously, the killer might guess something was up and go back on his agreement to leave Alan alone. That left a pretty fine line to walk.
Gillis nodded towards the garage door. "We wait to make sure everything's clear. Then we're taking your car."
Don shifted his arms to the side so the handcuffs were visible. "Might look strange if anyone sees me walking down the driveway like this."
"Then it's your job to make sure no one does. Unless you want a third person along for the ride." The menace in his tone was unmistakable, and the hair on the back of Don's neck stood up.
"Fine," he growled. He twisted his hands forward and dug into his pocket for the car keys, dropping them on the floor and stepping back so Gillis wouldn't think he was trying anything.
If he was expecting a phalanx of agents to greet them when they stepped out of the garage a few minutes later, he was disappointed. They made their way to the Suburban without incident. Don was forced to climb in through the driver's seat and over the center console, a tricky maneuver even if his hands had been free to use for balance. Gillis climbed in after him and stuck the key in the ignition, the gun in his left hand aimed across the front seat at Don. "I'd tell you to fasten your seatbelt, but, well…"
Don glared at him, shifting around to try and keep his cuffed hands from digging into his back. Just get us out of here so no one else is in the line of fire, he thought urgently.
They slowly backed down the driveway, lights still off. Out the side mirror, Don could see a car sitting across the street that looked remarkably like David's. His heart leaped, and he felt a ray of hope for the first time since being overpowered. He shot a quick glance at Gillis to see if the man had noticed anything out of the ordinary, but he was concentrating on backing out onto the street.
Suddenly, there was a blur of activity. Headlights flashed on as two black SUVs roared to life and came to a full stop in the street right behind them. Their Suburban jerked to a halt, brakes protesting with a screech. Don moved towards the door, then cursed as he realized there was no way he could open it. Turning back to his left, he saw Gillis swiftly reaching across the front seat, and his heart leaped into his throat.
There was nowhere to go as the Glock shot up and came to a stop right against his temple.
He froze in place, right shoulder pressing up against the door, eyes locked on the other man and ears attuned to the cacophony of shouts from outside that mostly consisted of "FBI!" and "Put it down!" Beside him, Gillis was shifting the SUV into park, his left arm stretched across his body to hold the gun up to Don's head. Then he carefully reached up and changed hands on the gun, never taking his eyes or his aim off his captive.
Outside the window, Don could hear Colby yelling through the glass. Past Gillis, he saw David crouching next to the hood, arms extended, service weapon leveled at the driver. The slamming of car doors behind them meant there were more agents on the way.
But within the vehicle, it was silent.
"You'd better roll down the windows," Don finally said, breathing as though he had just run a mile. With his head and eyes angled as they were, the dark shape of the gun was taking up nearly half his field of vision, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. "They're going to want to talk, and the glass won't protect you anyway."
"Doesn't matter so much what they want," came the reply, sounding slightly rattled. "I'm the one with the hostage."
"Won't do you much good if you don't make any demands," Don replied.
"Shut up," Gillis snapped. "You want me to blow your head off right here?"
Don pressed his lips together. "Not particularly," he muttered.
There was another pause. Finally Gillis reached for the console on the door, and the driver's side window slid down an inch. "Get that car out of the way," he barked at David.
"We can't do that until you let him go," David calmly replied without moving.
The gun pressed harder against Don's head. "Tell them," Gillis insisted.
Don swallowed. "Doesn't matter what I tell them," he said. "I'm not the one in charge right now."
Gillis snorted. "Screw your damn protocols. If you tell them to back off, they'll do it."
"And then what? You think they're going to let you pull out of the driveway and head off wherever you want? They're not going to negotiate with you, not even for an agent." Don was proud of how steady his voice was. He knew the standard line well and had said it half a dozen times to suspects.
It was a lot harder to say it in reference to himself.
"We'll see about that." Gillis reached over and punched a button. Don could hear the passenger side window behind him rolling down a short distance. "You any more interested in saving your boss's life than this guy is?" he called.
"Depends on what you want," Colby answered warily. Don turned his head a fraction of an inch and cast his eyes to the right as far as he could. The younger agent had his weapon drawn, but pointed at the ground, since there was no way he could bring it to bear on the gunman without Don being in his line of fire. He couldn't make out Colby's face, but the grim tone of his voice was clear.
As he looked back towards Gillis, he could see dark-clad figures moving into position around the garage, the light from the house gleaming off the rifle barrels pointing in their direction. He hoped his father and the neighbors were safely locked inside their houses in case any stray rounds went flying. At this point, it was hard to see how this could end without any shots being fired.
He saw his captor looking around and figured he would notice the FBI team as well. "Just give it up," he said. "You're not going anywhere, with or without me."
The other man let out a snort. "You're telling me to turn myself in? You know how fast they'll stick me with a needle?"
"Didn't you tell me once that no one would be sorry about your targets? That there was nothing heroic in trying to save them? Juries don't give out the death penalty for people like that." He took a quick breath. "But they do for FBI agents. You haven't killed any law enforcement officers yet, Gillis. Don't start now."
There was a long pause. Don could feel his heart thumping painfully in his chest. He hoped that the silence meant he had Gillis thinking. But then the other man said, "Problem is, my contract is pretty much iron-clad. If I'm in jail and you're still alive, then I won't be for long."
"We can put you in protective custody," David said from outside the window in his best promise-the-bad-guys-anything tone.
"Trust me, it doesn't matter for these people," Gillis said. "Whether I pull this trigger or not, I'm dead either way."
"You could let him go and we could shoot you anyway," Colby said dryly.
Don would have glared at his teammate if he had dared to move his head. But to his surprise, Gillis was chuckling. "Cute, agent. No, what's going to happen is that you're going to let both of us by. Once we get away free and clear, then I let Agent Eppes go. Otherwise, you're looking for a new boss."
"That wasn't your plan a few minutes ago," Don objected.
The other man turned to face him. "Things change. I think it's fair to say that right now, what we both want is to get out of here in one piece."
Slowly, carefully, Don turned his head to the side so he could really look at his captor, the gun tracking around as he did so that it was now pressing against the edge of his forehead. The intense stare from those green eyes made it clear that the words had been deliberately chosen to echo the first encounter they'd had, when Gillis had let him go after they were well outside of the city. Could he really trust him to do it again?
Not if what he had just said about his employer was true. But that wouldn't leave them with any room to negotiate at all. And since Gillis's whole reason for being here was to put a bullet in him, he wouldn't be surprised if the killer pulled the trigger if he felt trapped.
So he made a split-second decision that could well be the most important one of his life. "Guys, he means it." He shifted his gaze past the man in the driver's seat to David. "Let us pass," he said, looking intently at the younger agent.
To Gillis, the sharp indrawn breath that David gave would sound like disagreement with his boss's command. At least, that's what Don hoped. To him, it was confirmation of a message received. There were certain codes that agents had worked out in case of situations like this one, ways to appear to comply while indicating something else. If Don had said, "Let us go," or "Let us by," he would have meant it. But this way, it was the appearance of letting them go that he was after, while letting his teammates know he had no intention of letting Gillis go anywhere.
David hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering back and forth between the two occupants of the SUV, both of whom were impatiently watching him. Finally, he pressed his lips together and took a step back, lowering his weapon. "Understood," he said, giving Don a tiny nod.
"Good." Gillis turned his head and looked past Don, out the passenger window. "And you?"
He could hear a scraping sound behind him as Colby holstered his gun. "I'll notify the rest of the team," he said. He stepped back and to his left, and Don heard him speaking into his radio unit. "All units stand down. Warner, back up the car."
They waited for a tense moment while one of the vehicles in the street rolled in reverse, leaving a clear space for them to access the street. Don's head was still turned towards the driver's seat, so he could see the hesitation on Gillis's face as he tried to figure out how he was going to reach around the steering wheel and shift gears with his left hand. The pressure of the gun against his head had momentarily eased, meaning that it was now or never. He looked out the driver's side window at David, who was watching him closely. Three, he mouthed.
One more careful check that Gillis was distracted. Two.
David nodded over the top of the vehicle, then at him, and he tensed his muscles, ready to move. One.
Behind him, the car door flew open and strong hands grabbed at his right arm and the back of his shirt. He was already moving in that direction, rolling towards where the door had been a second earlier, ducking his head away from the gun as he dove for the ground. Colby was crouched low behind the back door, only his arms sticking out to yank Don to safety. All he had to do was hit the asphalt with his shoulder, knowing David would have already re-drawn his Glock and have it trained on Gillis.
The bark of his own weapon and the bolt of fire ripping through his left thigh happened simultaneously. The pain hit him like a sledgehammer, and rather than being able to neatly tuck and roll onto the pavement, it was only Colby's quick reflexes that prevented him from slamming face first onto the driveway. He couldn't hold back a cry of pain as he was pulled the rest of the way out of the Suburban and onto his stomach, his leg jarring against the edge of the door frame and then on the ground.
A second shot sounded, and a sharp grunt came from the driver's seat. He could hear David shouting, "Put it down! Right now!"
There was a heavy weight on him and he tried to fight it off, but a hand protectively held his head in place. "Don't move, Don," came Colby's voice in his ear. He realized the other man was shielding him with his body while whatever was going down on the other side of the Suburban finished going down. The rush of footsteps told him there were multiple agents racing to the scene, more than his three teammates. One of them opened the passenger side door wider and aimed his service weapon across the front seat, practically standing over him and Colby.
Don closed his eyes and forced himself to pay attention to the pain shooting through his leg. It hurt in the back, of course, where he'd been hit, but he could distinguish a different source of agony in the front, where his thigh was being pressed into the ground. He took that as a good sign: a through-and-through was better than having the bullet still inside him. Of course, that assumed nothing vital had been nicked on the way through. He hoped the sudden dizziness passing over him was the adrenaline running out and not blood loss. Really don't want to bleed to death on my own driveway.
A few seconds later, he heard David call out, "Clear!" Instantly, Colby's weight was gone, and he felt hands prodding at his leg. He let out a sharp hiss, raising his head in protest. "Sorry," Colby murmured, "but I need to get a look."
"What, you didn't call paramedics along with the SWAT team?" he retorted. Taking a shallow breath, he went on, "I mean, I was hoping for backup, but it looks like you brought the entire field office."
Colby kept talking, presumably to distract him from the poking and prodding he was doing. "As soon as your dad called my cell and said somebody was holding you in the garage, we called in everyone we could think of, so they should be here any minute. If it wasn't for the damn ball game letting out, we'd have been here at least five minutes earlier." The younger agent leaned forward, pressing one hand to each side of Don's leg, his voice losing some of its tension as he spoke. "Good news is, it went straight through, and you're not bleeding enough to be scary."
He closed his eyes and laid his head down on the asphalt, tiny pebbles digging into his forehead. "Good," he muttered. "Still hurts like a son of a bitch." At least he could rest for a moment, now that things were under control.
Above him, he heard another familiar voice. "Thought you might want this," David was saying, and Don craned his neck to see him inserting a key into the handcuffs behind his back. He let out a grateful sigh as his hands were freed, slowly stretching his arms out to the side and then above his head. All of a sudden, he was really tired. "Gillis?" he asked.
"Winged 'em in the shoulder," David replied, nodding towards the other side of the car. "They're already taking him in."
The sound of sirens caught his ears, and he slowly looked up to see an ambulance coming to a halt at the end of the driveway, its flashing lights bathing the scene in a series of strange colors. If there were any neighbors not already looking out the windows, this would bring them out for sure. "David," he said, alarmed at how much effort it was taking him to talk, "go -- go tell Dad I'm okay, would you?"
"Sure thing, Don," came the gentle reply. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and put his head back down on the ground. Yep, everything was under control. And so whether it was loss of blood or sheer exhaustion that was greying the corners of his vision, he closed his eyes and gave into it, for once trusting his team to take care of him and everything else.
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