The initial elation upon hearing Lawson's voice had abated slightly once they tried to figure out what to do next.

"I don't see any other option," Lawson called down to them a bit irritably. "If we don't use the rope, I'll have to go for help and that can take too much time."

Charlie was all for getting upstairs and out of this damned building, but the idea of climbing up the rope drove in the reality of their situation.

"How are we going to get Bill up? He can't climb the rope with that leg..."

Bill next to him froze, his jaw visibly clenching.

"I can stay here... until help arrives," Bill spoke, his voice cold and unemotional. But if Charlie learned anything in the last few hours it was that Bill had plenty of demons. Leaving him alone with them here would be akin to leaving someone trapped in their worst nightmare.

Charlie shook his head.

"No. We either both get out or I'm staying too."

Bill growled in protest.

"You could get help faster than Lawson if you get out," he hissed under his breath, though based on his tone, he wasn't trying to be too convincing.

Charlie bit the inside of his lips with consideration.

Under normal circumstances, yes. If it had been before their fall, he could most likely take off at a run and get to one of the closest farm or flag down a car on the road a bit further down. If he was lucky, he could get help back within few hours.

Trouble was, he did fall. And even though he was trying not to show his discomfort, lugging Hobart around did nothing to ease it. On the contrary. Charlie was starting to feel downright rotten and he knew that if he had to climb up that rope, he would be in no fit state to go running.

Hell, he was starting to doubt he could even manage the climb, but he wasn't about to voice that.

"That wouldn't do any good. If I go out for help, both you and the Boss would stay alone. One of you would be without light source and with an unknown enemy lurking around. That's... not ideal."

"Right. And what is your brilliant plan if we manage to get upstairs?" Hobart asked gruffly, though he seemed to be at least a tiny bit relieved over the fact he wouldn't have to stay here alone, without a torch. The mere idea of it was sending him into mild panic.

"I don't know," Charlie said with a sigh and looked up. Lawson had turned off the light to spare his batteries as well as not to blind them unnecessarily, but Charlie could sense he was peering down towards them. Charlie turned the torch upwards then shone it around so they could see the inside of the shaft properly. Perhaps there were some edges or rungs he might get hold of that would help in their way up?

"Great. So much for planning ahead," Bill said. Charlie felt himself bristling.

"What, you think any of this was planned? I still don't have a clue what the hell is going on, so no, I can't say what we will do upstairs. But I know I don't want to stay down here any longer."

Charlie kept his voice low, but Lawson still seemed to catch the argument.

"Stop bickering you two! I know you are enjoying the scenery down there, but I'd like to leave this joint and make sure my station is still in one piece."

Charlie and Bill exchanged a glance. Charlie had been so busy with their current situation that he had totally forgotten about Peter and the original call. Or the fact that it had been well over an hour without any radio communication and yet there didn't seem to be any help on the way. That was more than suspicious and Charlie felt a shiver of apprehension run through him. He couldn't help but think of Ned and what happened to him. He was fervently hoping that Peter didn't meet the same fate.

Seeing the frown on Hobart's face Charlie assumed he wasn't the only one replaying the events of the past. Somehow, that helped. Shaking off the memories, Charlie turned his face upwards.

"How long is that rope Boss?" he asked, hoping it was long enough to give them some leeway once he was upstairs. There was a plan forming in his head, but he didn't want to jump ahead.

There was a moment of silence as Lawson obviously tried to count the length. They heard a disgruntled curse.

"Look out!" Lawson warned only few seconds before Charlie saw something falling right at him. He stepped back, just as the end of the rope hit the floor. His heart skipped a beat as he was half expecting the other end of the rope to follow, but Lawson kept his hold on it.

"Bugger!" Bill cursed, startled as well.

"Did it reach you?" Lawson called and Charlie took hold of the rope.

"Yeah. It's all the way to the floor. How much do you have left?"

"About a meter," Lawson admitted gruffly and Charlie grimaced.

That wasn't a lot, especially not if they planned on pulling Bill out. But... it was something they could work with.

"That should do," Charlie said, not too enthusiastically.

"Yeah. But how are you planning on getting me up?" Bill reminded him of the main issue. Charlie grimaced.

"Boss, anything you can secure your end of the rope on?"

"Yeah. The elevator door post seems sturdy enough."

Charlie and Bill exchanged a glance.

"Sturdy enough?" Charlie mouthed, not having that much trust in those words.

"I'd be more worried about Lawson's knot, to be honest," Bill added with a smirk and Charlie blanched a bit more. If he went ahead with that, he would have to trust that the Boss tied the rope off well and that the post would hold. While usually he wouldn't doubt Lawson, he didn't have all that much belief in the building itself. For all he knew, the door post was rusty or cracked and it would break just as he was high enough for the landing to finish him off.

Of course, he couldn't really voice his fears, not in this company.

So he sighed.

"I can tie it up here, but I won't be able to pull the rope," Lawson shouted towards them.

Charlie had assumed as much.

"I'll... climb up," he said, hiding his hesitation.

"What about Bill?"

"We will pull him up once I'm there," Charlie said and this time he shot a questioning look at Bill. "Think you can handle that?"

Bill's frown deepened, but he gave a curt nod.

"Sure. If you can pull your ass up that rope, I can sure as hell let the two of you do the rest of the job."

Charlie snorted.

"Is it tied off, Boss?" Charlie called upwards. He felt the rope in his hands move a bit, so he waited until it stilled and Lawson shone the torch down, making a quick check of the shaft to see the situation.

" Ready," he called back.

Charlie gulped, thinking at least someone was. He felt far from ready, but he could hardly say that now. That would mean letting Lawson and Hobart down... just because of a few bruises. And a small dislike of heights. Yes, even since coming to Ballarat, Charlie didn't have the best experiences with heights. He had seen Blake climb onto towers and over railings of bridges too often for his comfort. Hell, he had seen what a fall from height made with the body when the guy was kicked off a plane. Not to mention, his body still throbbed from the experience of falling down with the whole flight of stairs. He might've blanked out on the details, but he very well remembered the feeling of his organs jumping to his throat in one moment. He didn't fancy a repeat so soon.

"What, you chickening out?" Hobart asked with a smirk. It didn't reach his eyes, but the tone was enough to get Charlie moving. He shook his head and handed Bill the torch.

"Here. You'll need it more than I," he grumbled then grasped the rope with both hands.

First, he gave it a few pulls, to check it would indeed handle his weight. He felt the resounding tug, but the rope held. There was absolutely nothing holding him back... except his own reservations.

"You changed your mind, Davis? If so, let me know and I'll head out to get some help." There was no hint of judgment in Lawson's voice, it was a genuine offer. Charlie squinted upwards, hit by the beam of light. Lawson obviously wasn't any more sure about this than him.

"No, stay. I... I'll be right up," Charlie said and without losing more time, moved his arms high above on the rope, then pulled his weight up.

For a second he just hung there, a foot or two above the ground, face smashed against the rope, eyes closed, and teeth clenched to stop the gasp of pain.

It stabbed through his left side, along his spine and up to his shoulder. He felt his arms shake just a bit and cold sweat once again rushed over him.

"Alright there Davis?" Hobart asked and it was the slightest hint of concern in his voice that made Charlie open his eyes and let out a grunt of 'yeah'.

"Wanna get moving then?"

All Charlie wanted was to show Bill the bird and crash on some horizontal surface. Instead he remembered the bonehead training and the physical tests they had to pass. Climbing a rope was somewhere among the disciplines and Charlie knew that what he was doing now was simple clinging. He needed to position his feet and use his legs, to take at least some weight off his shoulders.

The motion sent more painful throbs up through his chest as he had to move his waist and work the rope between his feet. Finally, he managed to get it in the right place to have some support. Taking in as deep a breath as he dared, he started moving upwards.

It was a slow and arduous climb. He had to pause every few feet to take a break and just breathe.

"Can't you use the wall to climb?" Bill asked when Charlie was only few feet high. Charlie paused. He looked at the rather smooth wall of the shaft. Except for the two rails on the sides used for the breaking mechanism there were no visible protrusions he could use for the climb.

He shot a questioning look at Bill.

"How?"

Bill rolled his eyes.

"Legs! Walk up the wall?"

Charlie blinked.

He realized what Bill meant, had seen the move in one of those action spy movies. On the screen it looked easy... in practice, not so much. Charlie tried to give it a shot, but he quite quickly came to the conclusion it won't work. Not with bruised or broken ribs. He barely raised his leg up half way when his side gave a loud protest and Charlie resumed his original position. Nope. The move would need him to use some body parts and muscles that just weren't up for it right now.

"Not working," he grunted towards Bill, deciding to ignore all further advices. None came though. It seemed that Bill caught on to his problem or simply didn't care about his speed anymore, knowing the sooner Charlie reached the top, the sooner would the same await him.

Charlie knew it was stupidly slow progress, which under other circumstance would bear ridicule from anyone nearby. Under the given situation though Charlie heard no ribbing or jeering, no words of judgment. He might've actually preferred those in some moments though. The silence filled with tension and palpable concern felt so much worse. All he could hear was his own gasping breath, the worrying creaking of the rope and the post it was tied to.

It was perhaps somewhere in the second third of his journey when Charlie made a wrong move. His side seized up, left leg jerking at the sudden pain. Charlie's whole body wanted to curl up into a ball but he was suspended on a rope some four meters in the air.

"Charlie? You alright?" Lawson asked from above and Charlie knew he must've made some sound to bring out that worried tone.

He wanted to nod and continue climbing, but he simply couldn't, not right away. He was glad his arms and legs still kept hold of the rope, though the white spots on the edge of his vision were becoming bothersome.

"Need a minute," Charlie grunted in reply.

He turned his face down when the beam of the torch was aimed at him.

"Take your time," Lawson said in a softer tone and Charlie huffed. A nice and worried Lawson always put him on the edge. He felt as if he was somehow failing the man by showing weakness, even though it was ridiculous. He was past the point of needing to prove himself. Still, that gnawing feeling in his stomach made him try and push through his own discomfort. He had to move, before his arms fell asleep and he plunged down right on top of Hobart. Now wouldn't that be just a fitting end to a crappy day.

Snorting, more in despair than amusement, Charlie resumed his slow crawl upwards.

He didn't dare to look up anymore. He worried that if he saw how little progress he made, his limbs would give up on their own volition. So it was a startling surprise when Charlie felt a hand grab at the back of his shirt and pull. He let out an undignified yelp, even as his hands slipped. He would have slipped down a few feet maybe but the hand had a solid grasp on his shirt. With a curse and a grunt, it stopped his sudden descent.

Charlie's hands grasped the rope so hard he felt it scrape against his palms painfully, his right giving a loud protest and reminding him it had already been through some abuse. None of that though could compare to the wild beat of his heart.

"Gotcha! Come on, move!" Lawson barked breathlessly and Charlie did just that. With Lawson's help, he heaved his body out of the shaft. It was clumsy and painful, but Charlie felt great accomplishment as he crashed down on the ground. Next to him, Lawson was also breathing heavily, sitting and leaning against the wall.

"Alright there Charlie?" he asked once his own pummelling heart slowed down to a more manageable level.

Charlie was still feeling shaky from the effort as well as the little scare, so he just nodded.

"Good. Take a moment... then we have to haul up Bill."

Charlie gave another nod then cleared his throat.

"Glad to see you too, Boss," he said in a shaky voice. It might've sounded as sarcasm, but Charlie meant it. He was happy to see Lawson.

His boss must've understood, because there was no scathing remark, just a pat on the leg and a relieved "Same here kid, same."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just shoot your brain out?" the masked man asked, then added: "Or his." He nudged Peter, who took in a ragged breath, eyes widening.

Blake stood in place, forcing down the urge to pull the trigger of his own gun.

"Maybe because you wouldn't go far? Your companions have been taken care of and there are several armed officers in the hallway. I'm sure they wouldn't hesitate to shoot you on the spot."

The man seemed to mull that over as well. They were truly in a standoff, with poor Peter caught between them. Blake kept his arm taunt, the pistol aimed. If worse came to worst, he might try to hit the man in the shoulder. He risked clipping Peter or getting him killed if he wasn't fast enough however, so Blake filed that option as a last resort.

"Fucking newbies the lot of them, they always mess up," the man muttered under his breath.

Blake couldn't see his face, the mask had a cut out for lips and eyes though and it was enough to see the scowl. The man's eyes kept moving, from Blake to the door to the pile of files and the canister.

"You alright there Peter?" Blake asked, seeing the bloodstained face and slightly shaking form of the officer. Peter gulped and gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Y-yeah, D-" he started but stopped himself. Blake realized he wasn't sure if he could say his name. Probably a smart move.

"Shut up!" the man growled. "Did I give you permission to speak?"

Peter stayed silent, though his left eye twitched. Blake clenched his teeth.

"I don't think anyone needs permission for that," he said, raising a brow. Perhaps if he could provoke the man, he might aim the weapon at him instead of Peter. Blake would have no trouble shooting him then. Of course, despite Blake's usually perfect track record of pissing people off, this one didn't seem to take the bait.

His mouth turned up in a sneer.

"Go ahead then, keep flapping your mouth. I might just get tired of it and pull the trigger."

"I think we already went over that. You do it and the next bullet goes right through your skull," Blake said, voice ice cold. He could hear movement in the hallway behind him and he was sure that the others were finally realizing he might just need some help. Though the situation didn't seem to be in his favour.

"What do you want to do?" he asked calmly. The masked man's eyes kept flickering towards the pile on the floor. It was a bit to the side of Blake, but he could see the files were damp and he could smell the gasoline in the air.

"I want to get the hell out," the man growled.

"I don't think that will happen. Even if you get through me... there are others waiting outside."

Blake was hoping he wasn't bluffing at this point. The noise he heard could have just as well been the bad guys somehow taking the upper hand. He still didn't know where Danny went or if he was alright. But he couldn't let the man in front of him realize that. If he felt trapped, perhaps he would give up. Lord, Blake hoped he would give up and not attack like a caged animal.

The masked man seemed to be thinking around similar lines. Blake could see he was nervous, his one free hand was twitching nervously and he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if ready to spring out. Blake recognized that and took a slow step to the side, so he was blocking off the possible escape route, or at least making it harder.

"Stop that!" the man snapped. "One step closer and I'll end this!"

"Alright, easy. Why don't we all calm down and think this through?"

"What the hell do you want to think through?"

"Your chances of leaving this place alive if you shoot Peter or me," Blake replied coldly.

The man snorted.

"Right. As opposed to what?" he asked and there was a hitch in his voice Blake didn't like. It sounded too much like desperation.

"We can talk about it. Figure something out. You... you haven't killed anyone yet. No one is seriously hurt..." Blake decided to ignore the little detail he had no clue where his friends were or if the others were uninjured. If he could just make the man let down his guard for a second...

He saw Peter wriggle in the chair, his eyes looking down pointedly. The masked man couldn't see as he was standing behind Peter, but Blake caught on the fact that the rope across Peter's chest seemed to be a bit... slack.

The cop might not have been in the best position and Blake didn't want him trying any heroics because he was right in the firing range, but he took note of the fact Peter seemed to be ready for taking action if needed. Blake gave a small nod. Peter's shoulders squared up slightly, while the masked man frowned.

"You really think I'm an idiot?" he hissed, his free hand burrowing into Peter's hair and pulling his head back. Peter let out a choked gasp of pain, face turned upwards to the ceiling as the hand was grasping painfully at his hair.

"Stop that!" Blake shouted, taking a step forward.

The man growled, releasing his grip but not before giving Peter a hard smack on the back of his head.

"Don't play with me you pig. You can't do a bloody thing!" he said, leaning down a bit.

Peter was breathing quickly but still found the strength to mutter something under his nose.

"What did you say?" the man asked with a growl and once again reached out to grasp Peter by the hair, so he could yank on his head.

Not this time though. Peter leaned forward to escape the touch. In doing so, the chair moved along with him. As soon as he realized that, he put weight on his feet and leaned over in one swift movement. The chair, still attached to him, went forward too, its legs smacking against flesh.

There was a startled oomph as the masked man was hit on his thighs, the hand holding the weapon slipping. A shot rang out but the bullet was wide, taking out a piece of wood from the chair, burrowing in the floor. Peter lost his footing and fell over, crashing to the floor as well and he proved an excellent target.

The second shot that rung out came from Blake's pistol.

It hit the masked man in the shoulder. He let out a howl of pain and the weapon clattered from his hand, to the floor. He clutched at his shoulder and stumbled backwards.

"Get down!" Blake shouted, pointing the man to lie down on the floor. "Peter? You alright?"

Peter let out a grunt and started scooting to the side, but was hampered by the chair and the rope, his hands still handcuffed in front of him.

"Stay still, give me a moment," Blake told him and tried to pass him by to get closer to the masked man who was now bent over near one of the desks.

"Show me your hands!" Blake ordered, not liking the fact he couldn't see what the man was doing. Was he clutching at his shoulder or grabbing for a hidden knife?

Blake got his answer soon enough.

"Turn around!" he shouted, his eyes scanning the floor for the fallen weapon. It had clattered under Lawson's desk, well out of reach. Blake filed it under details not to forget. Peter was now right behind him and the masked man was theoretically disarmed. He just needed to get him on the floor and see his hands then call for the others...

Things couldn't be that simple though.

There was a clicking sound and it took a second for Blake to identify it. He just knew it came from the hunched over masked man. Then he saw the man turn and something flickering fly through the air...

It landed on the pile of files.

"Bloody-" Blake didn't finish. The flame of the lighter blinked and in the next moment there was a strange hissing sound as the paper soaked in gasoline caught fire.

Suddenly the office wasn't dark anymore.

The flame grew quickly, lighting the room, almost blinding them.

Blake heard a scream and realized Peter was lying on the floor, only a meter from the pyre.

The masked man forgotten, Blake turned and lunged towards Peter. His eyes went wide as he saw a trail of wetness on the floor leading from the pile of files towards the can. He didn't know how much or if any of the gasoline was left inside, but he knew it was a danger nevertheless.

As the trail of wetness caught fire, Blake watched the flame rushing towards the can.

Peter was scrambling backwards, but he was too close and too slow.

Blake grasped at his ankles and the leg of the chair and pulled it along with Peter behind the closest desk. Not caring what happened to the masked man, he ducked behind the desk and leaned over Peter's form.

For what felt like several long seconds nothing happened and Blake was starting to feel like a fool.

A fool that might have just let a dangerous criminal escape or retrieve his weapon... Blake lifted his head to look around and check on the threat, when there was a crackle and a loud bang.

The desk they were hiding behind had smacked into them as the pressure from exploding canister hit it. There were pieces of the can flying through the air and Blake instinctively covered Peter. One shrapnel ended up in the floor, a foot or so from Blake's face. He looked at it with wide eyes.

There was a swoosh of fresh air and Blake realized the explosion must've smashed the windows. The added oxygen fuelled the fire and the office was swiftly covered in smoke.

"Hell!" he cursed and pushed up into a sitting position, trying to figure out their situation.

"Peter? You alright?" he asked, even as he peered out from behind the desk. He needed to know where the bloody bastard was but all he saw was the flickering orange and the smoke...

Something moved in a rush.

Blake aimed his weapon, ready to fire if the figure was lunging at them, but it went the other way. Towards the window!

Shit! Blake wanted to go after him, grab him before he could escape, but then he heard Peter's cough. He chanced a look back, to make sure the flames weren't reaching them yet and by the time he looked towards the window, the figure was gone.

He could hear someone shouting and the sound of a door opening, crashing against the wall.

"Blake! Peter!" It was Danny.

"Here!" Blake called out, then coughed. The smoke was getting thicker and he could feel the heat of the fire coming closer as well.

"Where? I can't see you!" Danny shouted and Blake grunted. His arms were working on the rope binding Peter to the chair and they were both trying to hold their breath as much as they could so as not to choke on the smoke.

"Lawson's desk!" Blake shouted then grabbed Peter's arm and pulled him into a sitting position. "You alright?"

Peter nodded, grimacing. He swayed woozily, using one hand to cover his face.

Blake blinked, his eyes were starting to burn. He still peeked from behind the desk to see the situation.

He could see Danny, or well, a familiar figure, standing near the entrance to the office. He had his face covered with his sleeve, trying to get around the fire. He looked soaking wet and Blake applauded that, but Blake could see that even if Danny made it towards them, it would be at a cost of some burns and chances were, they wouldn't be able to go back the same way.

"Stay back, Danny!" He called out, trying to come up with a better plan.

"I'm not leaving you there Doc!"

Blake grunted.

"Get the hell out Daniel!" he shouted, angry, then coughed. "We go through the window!" he said loudly, realizing the masked man at least had a good idea.

"You sure Doc?" Danny asked and Blake looked at Peter questioningly.

"Sounds good," Peter croaked and was already trying to get up to his feet.

"Yeah, the window. Get out, Danny. Call the fire brigade!"

They heard a muffled "Be careful!" then nothing but the crackling of the fire. Lawson's desk gave a creaky sound of protest as the wood was attacked by the licking flames and Blake thought it was a signal they should get moving.

Stumbling, they made it towards the window. There was still some glass around the edges, so Blake used his gun to nudge the pieces out. He didn't fancy having to deal with glass cuts on top of all else.

"You first," he said and helped Peter over the windowsill. It wasn't that high a jump, but it could still be tricky, especially with handcuffed hands. "Careful," Blake advised. Peter took only a second to look down then with an uttered curse jumped.

Blake leaned out and saw him roll on the floor, but even as he was looking, Peter was getting back up on his knees and turning towards the window.

"Your turn!" he called and Blake put a leg over the windowsill. He shot one last look at the office, his face scrunched up in a pained grimace. Even if the fire brigade arrived this moment, they wouldn't be able to save the office. Matthew would not be a happy camper.

But thoughts of Matthew twisted a knife in his gut. He didn't know where his friends were or if they were alright. He shouldn't mourn an office when there were people still in danger.

Turning his back towards the burning room, Blake jumped.

The landing was surprisingly smooth.

It hurt, rattling his bones and jarring his knees, but Blake managed to stay on his feet. Nothing was broken or even sprained. He would call it a win.

What put a wide smile on his face however, was the scene a few meters from him. There on the ground was the masked man, twitching and squirming, cussing up a storm. Cunningham was kneeling on his legs while Lewis was cuffing him. The mask was pulled off the face and Blake caught sight of spit and blood running down the sharp chin. Looked like the man had managed to bite on his tongue during the landing. Served him right.

Blake looked around, searching for Peter, wanting to make sure he was alright. He saw Danny running out from the building and he felt a rock drop from his shoulders as he saw the boy was in one piece, albeit somehow ruffed up.

"Danny!" he waved at him and headed towards Peter who was hobbling towards them. He expected the relieved hug from Danny as he reached them. He didn't expect Jean rushing over to him and wrapping him in a hug, at the same time smacking him on the shoulder.

"That was stupid and reckless and don't you dare to scare me like that again!" Jean was muttering into his shoulder, even as he was blinking in surprise and confusion.

"Jean? What are you doing here?"

"We couldn't leave you all the action now, could we?" came the reply and Blake turned a bit to see Rose approaching as well. She gave him a shaky wink then turned and her camera flashed.

"Well, I don't know where uncle Matthew is, but if no one called the fire brigade, there will be hell to pay."

"Danny? Did you-" Blake asked.

"Bollocks!" Danny cringed and took off at a run towards the nearest payphone.