DISCLAIMER: in the first chapter...

A/N: More, as promised. I have the next chapters outlined and will be posting as I finish writing, though I will be travelling soon, so that may mean two weeks till next post. PLEASE NOTE, I have made minor changes to the last chapter, to avoid contradictions I let slip. This chapter should provide light into the mystery that has been 'the man' and I'm sure many of you will have solved it by the end of this. If not, clearer explanations will be found in the following chapters.

Happy New Year!!!! To both those who have already seen it and those who still have some hours to go , like me. ;D

CHAPTER 25: Unraveling

The gun coked, the safety was unlocked, a gloved finger put pressure on the sensitive trigger and time slowed to an almost stop.

No.

"How does it feel?"

The voice was hoarse, as if it wasn't accustomed to too much use, and filled with more emotion than his eyes had conveyed. Pain, hurt, despair. In fact, hadn't Harm been looking directly at their captor and seen his lips move, the Commander would have believed the inquiry to have originated elsewhere.

"How… does… it… feel?"

Desolation.

Again and again, the man asked the question, using the gun pressed against Mac's head as emphasis to every word uttered; her temple was already starting to bruise, though her face remained impassive. Harm attempted to answer, to say anything really in the hopes of appeasing this troubled man he could not really recall - no matter how hard he tried -, but who seemed to know him enough to hate. Muffled sounds and unsuccessful tugging of the restraints were all the navy Commander was able to muster.

"How… does… it… feel?"

Despairing.

Could this insane man not see he was gagged? That he could not answer, even if he had known how to truly express the horrible pain gnawing at his chest? Was the question merely rhetorical and thus not supposed to evoke an answer? Damnit!! What did he want?!

"How… does… it… feel?"

Horrible!! It feels horrible!!!

As unexplainable as the questioning started, it stopped. The man slowly lowered the gun, eyes still trained on Harm. Unmoved, he remained like that, as if waiting, for what Harm couldn't even begin to understand. And the man's eyes… no longer were they filled with madness, determination had replaced it.

Breathe, Harm, breathe…

----

Mac had forced her eyes to remain focused on the wings of a golden eagle the Admiral had always kept on the far off shelf of his office. She forced herself not to react to the painful jabs the gun had made against her temple. And willed her ears not to hear the pain in every shuffle and grunt coming from Harm's direction, knowing she had to be strong for him and that meant not reacting.

Sigh.

It would be a lie to say, though, that relief didn't curse through her veins when the questioning stopped and the gun was lowered. Harm and their captor were facing each other, she knew, and when silence stretched too long, she allowed herself to glance sideways into her squid's troubled blue eyes.

He didn't look in her direction.

Mac then directed her gaze to the man standing beside her. Her eyes narrowed in concentration. Carefully, she examined his face, familiarity washing over her.

I know you, don't I?

-----

The man waited.

Any time now…

John waited.

C'mon!

The short man, with murky brown eyes that stared in anticipation and hinted at insanity, stood quietly and waited.

Why is nothing happening?

His hands were filled with calluses, testament to a life filled with hardships. His skin was pale, though with a hint of a tan beginning to wane. His hair was receding, the years proving themselves not so kind. And his heart was broken, as it had been since that night, when he had woken up, his forehead damp with a cold sweat, his breath caught in his throat and his mind utterly confused.

I never really knew… was there supposed to be lights? Colors?

So many years now, waiting. Twenty three years of barely contained patience, just so he could have a chance to fix what had been broken. Twenty three years to reach the right moment…

And maybe find a way back home.

Please, just…

---

With all the moving Harm had been doing, Webb had been forced into consciousness, though he made sure to keep his body limp and his breathing even. He heard the question, a bit confused, and tried to recognize the voice that repeated it. He felt Harm's body, tense, pressed against his back and knew fighting his restraints would do no good.

Webb dared not open his eyes quite yet.

Then silence reigned and his curiosity turned quickly to worry. Even the trashing Commander had grown still. Slowly and ever so carefully, he allowed his head to loll right and cracked his eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of his surroundings.

Mac tied to a chair.

The Admiral slumped, unconscious, at his chair, arms tied, too.

And that man he was sure he had seen before, but could not place, standing next to Mac, holding a gun limply at his side and staring intently at Harm.

Oh God…

It didn't take a genius to piece this disaster together.

The CIA operative maintained his calm and his eyes slightly opened. Considering the fact that he himself and the Admiral seemed to be nothing but collateral in this chess match, Webb figured it was up to him to save the day.

But how?

He was tied like a pretzel around Harm – no pun intended – and that meant any moving on his part would in consequence move Harm and inevitably draw attention from their captor. His hands were on Harm's stomach, so in direct line of sight and useless. His feet were tied too, though Webb figured standing wouldn't be impossible, as long as his new found attachment stood too. Yes…

If only he could somehow alert Harm to his plan.

What else?

He saw Mac finally move, first looking at Harm and then examining the man next to her. When Webb saw her eyes narrow in concentration, he thought maybe she had managed to recognize the man in question. Confusion danced in her hazel eyes and he lost a bit of his hope. Was that the Admiral moving?

His attention, however, was drawn to the crazy officer with a gun, when his low voice echoed again in the silent room.

"Why is nothing happening? How did you do it when you were in the car?" Pause. "How did you go back?" Webb was puzzled at the words. Surely, he couldn't be referring to…

"HOW?!"

Could he?

I know the end of the year is not the best time to ask for reviews, but please leave me a note letting me know what you though. Thanks!