THE STANDOFF

Chapter Twenty Five

No one was paying him any attention. In a ward full of people, everyone's back was turned. This was the miracle Mac had been waiting for – that perfect moment – and he wasn't about to waste it.

Swinging his good leg around until his foot touched the floor, he winced at the ache in his chest, only slightly dulled by medication. Damned ribs – they were going to be trouble. Holding still, he tried to ease his breathing; slowing it down until the catch at the lower end hurt far less.

I can do this, he told himself grimly.

If his broken ribs were trouble then his broken leg was a nightmare of almost insurmountable proportions. He glared at it, willing it to co-operate. Since no one had come to plaster it yet, it was still encased in an ugly inflatable cast that was going to make walking a trial. Mac moved it ever so slightly. Once more, his breath caught and he fell back against the nearby pillow, closing his eyes in an effort to block the wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

If he couldn't get off the bed, then how could he cross the ward, or sneak out of the hospital, or navigate a snow-bound city? How could he help his team…?

"Painful, isn't it?" said a wry voice, breaking into his fantasy and dragging him back to reality; a reality where hospital sheets were tucked around him neatly and a nurse was hovering nearby, hawk-like, watching his every move as though she could read his mind.

I hope that isn't true, he thought and turned to stare at Don Flack instead. The detective was lounging against the end of his bed, dressed in a hospital gown and a worn robe. "I've had worse," Mac told his friend in an offhand manner, shifting his good arm surreptitiously in order to add extra support to his bandaged ribs.

Don shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm not talkin' about your injuries – kudos for dramatic impact, by the way. I'm talkin' about that look on your face."

"What look?" Mac's eyes were shifty.

"The one that says you're already plannin' your escape route outta here. Which ain't gonna happen, okay? I'm under orders."

"You are?" The irony was unavoidable. "You're not even dressed. What happened… to your clothes?" He hated the hitch in his breathing that made his speech sound so unbalanced. How was he going to argue his case when he couldn't even control the flow of his sentences?

"Oh yeah, that," Don said darkly. "Ever try navigatin' your way round a hospital in a backless dress and a skimpy robe? That's tons of fun right there. Someone – I'm not sayin' who, 'cause we both know the answer – someone threatened to steal all my clothes when she ran off to join the action. Made me promise not to follow her, or get dressed, or anythin'! Maybe she was jokin' - it doesn't matter. I woulda stayed put, Mac, with or without her sneaky tactics. You want me to tell you why?"

Mac tried out a grin. It was hard to achieve, but it made him feel a little better. Don Flack had an unconscious knack for brightening even the worst of situations. "Do I… have a choice?"

Once more, Don shook his head. "You need me," he announced. "I can prove it. Tell me you weren't havin' crazy thoughts of escapin' just now and I'll be on my way, right back to my nice warm bed an' my last two donuts." He flashed an amiable grin of his own when he caught Mac's expression at this last remark. "Jo again. Tell me, buddy, am I really that predictable?"

"Turns out we both are," Mac sighed. "So, how are we going to do this? Are you planning to tie me… to the bed or baffle me with logic?"

"I'd say you're pretty much tied down already," Don replied, with a meaningful look at the tube rising out of Mac's arm and the wacky inflatable cast on his leg. "But I'm goin' for logic. Don't look so surprised!" He raised a cautionary finger. "I may not be one of your super-intelligent science guys but I've got mad skills when it comes to confrontation."

"No argument there," Mac said quietly. "Go on, then. Tell me why I shouldn't feel so… useless, trapped in this bed when… Danny and Adam are in danger."

"You know the answer." Don's voice was quiet too. "You said it yourself, Mac. They're our friends – our team. Our family."

"You're not… making sense," Mac grumbled awkwardly, trying not to give way to the bitterness and frustration that often comes with pain.

"I'm not there yet." Don shuffled closer, tugging his robe across his knees in a simple gesture that was clumsy yet engaging. "Give me a chance."

Mac inclined his head. Go on.

Don took a deep breath. "We've been workin' together a long time now, Mac Taylor. I've watched the way you treat 'em – Danny, Lindsay, Adam, Jo, the Doc… hell, me too. You care for all of 'em, just like a father cares for his family, and you've trained 'em well… don't you ever doubt that. One day you'll leave 'em… No, wait, let me finish," Don implored, as Mac tried to interrupt. "You know you will. But you should also know that you'll be leavin' behind a team that can work wonders, with or without you. That'll be your legacy. That's what you've created. It's because of you that they can do this; every one of 'em – Danny and Adam too." He paused again for emphasis. "That's what you have to trust right now."

"But I do."

"You do until it's personal. When that happens, it's like a switch that flips in your head. You think you've gotta be there, fixin' everything yourself; that it's your responsibility, and most of the time you're right… but you know what? You've done enough tonight. We both have." Don's tone was deadly serious. "I know I don't got a right to preach but I'm doin' it anyway. It's a hard lesson – I guess I'm tryin' to learn it too. The best way we can help our friends – our family – is to let them do what they do best and trust 'em to do it without us." He winked, in a bold attempt to lighten the mood once more. "Woozy and Hopalong, stuck on the sidelines."

"Cheering for a win," Mac murmured. He reached out as though to squeeze Don's hand in gratitude, but the look that crossed the other man's face showed him just how unnecessary that would be.

"Of course, if you happen to have your cell handy…" Don continued nonchalantly as he made himself even more comfortable, wrinkling Mac's bed linen with cheerful abandon. "Stuck on the sidelines doesn't mean outta the stadium. We can still keep a close eye on the game…"

-x0x-

"Yes, Mac, Ilse's here with me now," Sheldon reported carefully, having parked the car before answering his cell. No need for any more accidents tonight. The caller ID was no surprise to him – in fact he could have put money on the fact that a bed-bound Mac would feel the need to stay in touch. Nothing could keep the boss man down; not broken limbs, or multiple stitches, or Josephine Danville at her most persuasive.

"And she's happy to do this?" Mac's voice sounded… surprised? Excited? Medicated, Sheldon thought with a flash of humour that felt rather inappropriate, given the circumstances. He quelled it at once and continued to give his report.

"I don't think 'happy' is the right word but she's determined, Mac; very determined. She wants – no, she needs to help undo the wrong her family has done." Sheldon watched Ilse Unger's face in the rear view mirror as he spoke in muffled tones, hiding his mouth behind his free hand. He knew that she could probably hear his end of the conversation perfectly well, but manners were still important, even at this crucial stage, and so the two of them became co-conspirators in a polite deception. Isle looked out of the window at the falling snow, and Sheldon pretended she couldn't hear anything.

"A good woman."

"Brave, too." Ilse's reflection had tears in its eyes but when Sheldon turned to check on his passenger, she lifted her chin and stared him down with those tears unshed. He offered her a nod of understanding. "She can do it, Mac."

"Then take good care of her. And keep me in the loop." Was that an order or a heartfelt plea?

Doesn't matter, Sheldon thought. "You know I will."

They ended the conversation without another word. Sheldon had an inkling that one of his colleagues – Jo, say, or Lindsay – would be getting a call in the next few seconds. He allowed himself a little smirk as he hopped out of the car and skated through the slush, ready to do the gentlemanly thing and open Ilse's door - but she was already standing on the sidewalk, waiting for him, holding herself in a regal, resolute pose. I don't need help, was the message in her eyes. Sheldon held out his arm all the same. After a brief pause, Ilse took it. Manners again. "Thank you, Doctor Hawkes," she told him. "It's nice to meet a young man who knows how to treat his elders."

"Young?" he smiled down at her. "Thank you."

"Everyone is young from my perspective, these days. Tall, too." She shivered, and the tremor ran through both of them, connected as they were. Sheldon's heart went out to the woman. Taking off his scarf, he offered it politely. To his great surprise, she took it.

"Danke. So, where do we go now?"

Since this was Sheldon's first time at the scene, he looked around in some confusion. Then he saw Lindsay, and realised that she had been waving at him for some time as she headed towards the pair of them, placing her feet with care. The jumbled light from the squad cars and the street lamps gave her face an eerie cast that matched the pale blanket of snow all around them, and now it was Sheldon's turn to shudder. I'm dreaming, he thought, and would have asked someone to pinch him, except for the fact that the cold was already doing a fine job of that.

"Mac called," Lindsay said when she finally reached them. "And Jo's here."

Sheldon nodded. "What's the plan?"

"Time's up. We go in." Her face and her voice were both grim. She stuck out her hand to Ilse. "I'm Detective Messer. Thank you for coming, Mrs Unger. I know this must be a terrible night for you."

Ilse regarded her steadily. "Messer. Like the man inside? The good doctor told me much, you see? A terrible night for you too, then."

"Yes," said Lindsay, simply. Sheldon admired her self-control.

Reaching out, Ilse Unger laid a motherly hand upon Lindsay's arm. "I wish only to help. My family caused this. God give me the strength to set it right."

Lindsay shook her head. "That's not why we brought you here. We would never dream of holding you responsible for the actions of your sons, or your grandsons. We just thought… If Tig would listen to you… If you could speak to him…"

"I'll speak to him indeed," the old woman said fiercely. "Such a selfish, crazy, dangerous thing he has done here. But Marvin…?" Her voice softened. "What of him? You must know, he isn't like his brother. He's a good boy – a kind boy."

"Then he needs to give himself up. It's the only way. There is no happy ending here for Tig," Sheldon told her honestly. "He's taken this whole thing way too far. But Marvin still has a chance and we have to make them both see that."

Ilse shook her head. "Tig won't care about his brother's fate. It's hard to admit, but it's true. There's something… lacking there. The bond he has, it comes from control, not compassion. If Marvin should turn against him…"

"Bad?" Sheldon ventured.

"Very bad, I think." Ilse gave a heavy sigh. "But let me talk to them and I will try to make them see."

"We can't ask any more than that," Lindsay told her. "And, you know, if it doesn't… If something goes wrong…" Sheldon could hear the pain in her voice, but she continued valiantly. "The fault will be theirs, okay? Don't take it on yourself."

"Perhaps," Ilse offered wisely, "I should say the same to you, Detective Messer?"

-x0x-

They chose to enter from the rear, using Selena's escape route. That way, they could regroup in the corridor, instead of shivering outside the front door.

Standing behind Morton and his team mate, holding her gun in a firm but sweaty grip, Lindsay was glad to have Jo beside her. Two more members of Morton's team stood silently at their back, with Ilse between them. The little old lady was clad in a bulletproof vest on top of her old coat, and looked as though she were clinging to her courage by her fingertips. Nearby, Sheldon waited with a couple of paramedics, ready to assist Adam and anyone else who might need their attention when this was all over.

Over, Lindsay sighed, allowing herself one silent moment to be human. I wish it was.

Thank God Lucy had no knowledge of the danger that her precious Daddy was facing. Lindsay drew strength from the thought of her beautiful girl, letting Lucy's face hover in front of her mind's eye like a talisman, bringing her luck.

"Are we ready?" Jo murmured, and Lindsay knew that by 'we' she meant 'you'.

"Yes we are," she replied. "Let's bring them home."

"Music to my ears." Jo's confident whisper spurred Lindsay on and she nodded to Morton, who stepped forwards through the doorway into the room that had been the focus of all their attention tonight…

-x0x-

"Whassat?" Tig's head jerked round on his scrawny neck, causing Adam to twitch in alarm and Danny to tense every nerve in his body. "You hear somethin', Marvin?"

"I don't know," his brother replied sullenly. "I don't know, I don't know…" The pattern of words tailed off into a meaningless jumble and he turned his back on everyone with great deliberation. "I don't care," he added, over his shoulder. "I just want to go home now."

"I don't care what you want." Tig laid a hand on Danny's chest and shoved him rudely. "Stand up."

"What?" In point of fact, Danny longed to see what was happening on the other side of the bar, but no way was he going to give Tig that kind of satisfaction. "You stand up."

"Danny, don't…" Adam's husky voice made Danny glance around. The injured man had sunk even lower by now, until he was almost prone on the floor. He looked like a ghost, with glittering eyes, and it seemed he could not bear to wrench his gaze away from Danny's face, as though the closeness of his friend was the only thing that kept him from letting go completely.

Danny changed his mind, and his approach. "That's okay, Adam," he said, deliberately ignoring Tig. "I'm just gonna take a little look. No harm, no foul…"

"Oh!" The tiny word was like a breath escaping. "'Kay."

As Danny raised his head above the level of the bar, his heart beat quickly in his chest. Tig's deal was a two-edged sword; Danny's freedom for the man who had killed his father – but what fate lay beyond that for Adam? And Marvin, Danny thought regretfully. Tig, he did not care about. The man was a total jerk, and a killer too, with no respect for any other person but himself.

Across the room, he saw a pair of riot shields, and could just make out a cluster of figures behind them. One pair of bright eyes locked onto him with such fierce joy that he could have guessed who was standing there from the strength of her feeling alone. "Lindsay," he gasped, and did not care who heard him.

"Ask 'em if he's here," Tig prompted, nudging Danny's calf with the barrel of his gun.

"If who's here?" Danny replied, being deliberately obtuse. He wanted to weigh up the situation while he had the chance; to think about the best way of protecting Adam – and Marvin, he found himself adding, yet again.

"They're s'posed to bring the creep who murdered my dad." Tig's voice was sullen now. He was a petulant child in a drunken man's body. "Ask 'em!"

Danny turned to face the riot shields, and Lindsay. "Did you find the perp?" he said.

"We did," Jo's welcome voice replied.

Odd, thought Danny. Jo, not Mac.

"I want him," Tig demanded, raising his voice to be heard, even as he hid behind the bar like the coward he was. "Send him over to me."

"Can't do that, I'm afraid. Your uncle Patrick murdered your father – sibling rivalry would be my guess, or just plain greed. Such a nice shiny sceptre... Trouble is, when Detective Taylor went to confront him, Uncle Patrick chose to fight back. With a sword, no less."

Danny's breath caught painfully in his throat. The world staggered to a halt as he considered every hidden outcome behind Jo's simple statement. Was Mac…?

"Is he dead?" Tig's question echoed his own.

"Both men are in hospital," said Lindsay evenly. Danny let out a sigh of relief. "Your uncle is under arrest but we can't bring him here, so we brought someone else instead. Someone who wants to talk with you."

The fury in Tig's face was terrifying to see. Looking down, Danny observed how his fingers curled into claws and the prominent vein in his forehead stood out like a puckered scar. "I don't want to talk," he growled between clenched teeth. Tugging on Danny's leg, he yanked him back down behind the bar. "I want to end this."

"As do we all," Lindsay told him, trying to keep her tone neutral. Tig was enough to rile even the calmest of people. Danny wondered who on earth they had found to talk him down.

"Timothy."

"Gramma?" the angry young man burst out, with a look of horror in his bloodshot eyes. "Are you crazy? They dragged you in here too?"

"No, Tim. I came of my own free will. You're hurting, and we understand that, believe me. So am I, liebling. Theo is dead – but he wouldn't want this, not from you. Vengeance was never his way. I knew him, Timothy. You were his baby boy, but he was mine…"

Danny listened, just as shocked as Tig. This unexpected turn of events had thrown them all. Adam reached out and clutched his hand in a tight, hot grip. Meanwhile, Marvin had frozen at the familiar sound of his grandmother's voice. Oh my God, Danny thought, full of amazement. This could actually work.

"Come out," the old woman continued, "and we can grieve together."

There was a desperate silence.

"No," Tig said, at last. "This is some kinda trick. You lure me out an' they arrest me. I don't want to go to jail."

"We all must face the consequences of our actions," Grandma told him primly.

Danny quailed. Sitting right beside Tig, he could tell this was no time for a sermon.

"Not me," the young man swore. "I'm makin' my own dam' consequences."

"Marvin?" said his grandmother, abandoning her first attempt. "I know you're there too. Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Gramma," said the trembling giant obediently.

"Would you like to go home now?"

"Yes, please." Marvin's eyes were shining. "Will you take me?"

"In a minute. I need you to help me first."

"Don't listen to her, you imbecile," Tig muttered. On either side of Danny and Adam, the two brothers tensed and stared at one another. Things were coming to a climax, Danny could tell, and he wished with all his heart that he could move his injured friend out of the way because, when these two collided, there was going to be one almighty ruckus.

Marvin clenched his fists and glared at Tig. At last, his time had come. "Don't you dare call me that; not ever again," he insisted, clearly emboldened by the fact that his grandmother was nearby.

Tig raised his gun but his finger was shaking on the trigger. "I c'n call you what I like – always have, always will. You're my brother so you gotta take it. That's family."

"No," said a quiet voice from the floor. "That's bullying."

Marvin looked down at Adam. "So it's okay now?"

"Yes," Danny urged the giant. "More than okay."

Marvin launched himself across the two of them. Tig fired at the same time, but even as he did so, Danny jarred his arm so that the shot flew wide, buzzing harmlessly into the wooden bar. Splinters flew – and so did Marvin. He took his brother by the shoulders and bore him halfway across the room, rolling and rolling until they came to a stop. Then he loomed right over Tig like a great bear with its prey, cuffing him repeatedly with first one meaty paw and then the other. Tig moaned and struggled but could not prevail. The gun had already fallen from his grasp, and Danny kicked it far away. At last...

"It's done," he yelled, as a scurry of footsteps pounded towards them. Guns bristled – and every barrel of every weapon was pointing straight at the battling brothers. Danny's heart sank.

"Marvin," he urged, "you can stop now."

But Marvin could not hear him. Rage was boiling in his ears, a rage that came from years of abuse.

"Marvin," cried his grandmother, still at a safe distance. "Please, you have to listen..."

Marvin paused. His face was flushed and his eyes were narrow. Drool was dripping from the corner of his mouth. It landed on Tig's battered nose. Ooh, thought Danny, staring at the mess that was their former captor's face. That's gotta hurt… He tried to quell his sense of satisfaction but it wasn't easy.

"Marvin," Adam whispered. "It's done. You saved us. Thank you."

"Oh!" said the poor giant, falling back against the bar and gazing at his blood-stained hands with evident regret that they were capable of causing so much damage. "Okay, Adam."

-x0x-

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the update!

One more chapter to go, full of Mac and Adam, and all good things…