Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Okay, last one until later tonight. We've got to run some errands beforehand. Once again, if I don't get a chance to post another chapter before I go, sorry and thank you.

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Seventy Six:

I parked outside the warehouse in question, swallowing hard, tucking my handgun in my belt at my back and taking the briefcases in hand. They were freaking heavy—ten million in cash isn't light. I was frightened, constantly eyeing the clock, knowing that Gil and Sara would not take long to notice my absence… and that they were both good enough CSIs to find me. It was a matter of timing… I did want to be found, after all. Just in case this didn't go well… and I was fairly certain it wouldn't. I didn't have a death wish, and I didn't want Ayla at risk either.

I drew in a deep breath and forced myself forward, through my fears, thinking of my baby… my baby was just inside. The thought of turning back or calling for help… the thought of reconsidering anything… it was unthinkable. Ayla was mere feet in front of me.

It was dark inside, but I moved towards the only visible light—there were skylights straight ahead, and I was fairly certain I saw movement among the crates there. I moved quickly, eyes darting into the blackness around me, trying to see any incoming attack. …None seemed imminent, and by the time I was half-way across the building, I knew that the movement was Ayla, lying on the cold concrete floor. I took off running, uncaring of the dangers I had previous seen around me and when I reached her, the cases were dropped as I fell to my knees and pulled her to my chest.

She looked like she had cried herself out… she was trembling and cold and looked miserable… frightened and terrified. I held her tight to my chest, my arms around her, trying to warm her little frame as best I could… "Dada?"

"Yeah…" I said, feeling tears in my eyes. "It's Daddy, baby. I'm here. I got you, Ayla, and I won't let anything hurt you anymore…"

"Are you sure about that, Senor Wendt?"

I tensed, looking up to find Acosta standing at the edge of the light, a gun raised and aimed straight at Ayla, who was pressed to my chest. My arms tightened around her. "…Please… I came alone, I brought the money."

"Why should I trust you that it's all there? …You have proven yourself to be dishonest before."

I trembled, gently rubbing my hands over Ayla's back—she was crying now, clinging to me, and all I wanted to do was to tell this monster to go fuck himself and take a moment to calm my little girl's fears. "I… I wasn't being dishonest. …Please, listen to me. My company… my old company—I don't work for them anymore, but they… They told me that they would help you, if something happened. I… I would not have told you that if—"

"And you really believed it? Or were you repeating empty promises to a man whom you knew would never again see money like the kind you offered him?"

"…I believed they would help you get out of the country." I told him, and then in frustration at the wailing I was attempting to shout over, I turned away from him. "Ayla… Ayla, honey, it's okay now. Daddy's got you. You're safe, princess. Daddy won't let anything hurt you…"

"I had a daughter, her age…"

My head snapped back to Mr. Acosta. The gun still held steady on both of us. I was itching to draw mine, but I felt like the movement to retrieve it would make him fire.

"Did you know that, Senor Wendt? …That when I had to flee the country, without your help, I had to leave behind my wife and small child, without any means to support themselves…? …Do you think, with the reputation I have in Costa Rica, that anyone will have any sympathy for the innocent left behind?"

I clutched Ayla to me, swallowing hard. "…I'm truly sorry. I am. …I didn't even know that my company—"

"Enough!" The gun was trembling in his hand. "It's too late for apologies! I have nothing left!"

"…Take the money." I shoved one of the briefcases over to him. "I came alone… no one else knows that you were the one who had Ayla."

He bent down, opening the briefcase, and raised his eyebrows at the money there. "…It's actually all here."

"Of course it is." I said, disbelieving. I felt a cold chill run through me when he started laughing.

"I was an honest, law-abiding, government official before you came along. …Your money has taken from me… everything I'd ever loved. Fuck your money!" He screamed and picked up a handful of the money and threw it, loose bills scattering through the air. I jumped in surprise, clutching Ayla closer still, laying kiss after kiss into her delicate little curls to reassure myself that she was indeed here and alive and thus far unharmed. Her curls reminded me of Sara, and I found myself hoping against hope that we would both see her again. …Even if it was with Gil… just to see her beautiful face again. It would be enough to last me a lifetime.

The man shook his head. "…I'm not the same man you met a year and a half ago in Costa Rica, Senor. …I was an honest man, and now… I have bribed and threatened, kidnapped and killed… innocent people who had done nothing wrong except paint your house or drive your cars…"

Ah—there it was. My driver had told him about Gil… at least I knew that he hadn't bribed a police officer instead or been watching the house… He lifted the gun with more purpose this time, once again focusing on my chest, where Ayla was still crying and gripping my shirt, although she seemed to have calmed a little… her cries were softer. "…So now, Senor Wendt, I will offer you a choice. …The same choice you offered me, in the end. …Do you run, and leave your family to take the proverbial bullet, as I did? …Or will you stay with your daughter and take it with her?"

I gripped Ayla convulsively. I could not believe what he was saying… what he was suggesting. Let him kill Ayla and go free, or die with her… Neither of those were acceptable options. I swallowed. "…Kill me. …Let me call someone to come get Ayla. …Kill me and let her be."

He shook his head. "Oh, that is a far easier option to endure, isn't it? …But it isn't one you have. …Make a choice, sir." I glanced around myself, frantically. What were my options… I was on my knees in front of him. There was no way I could run… could I get to my weapon in time? …I could put Ayla down behind the metal case with the other half of the ten million, but if he killed me, what would stop him from coming after Ayla?

In the distance, I heard a car skidding to a stop on gravel. …They were here. If I could hold out, keep him talking… He cocked his weapon and shook his head. He had heard it too. "Make the decision now, Senor, or I'll make it for you. …3…2…1!"

I threw myself down before the case, covering her body, trying to shield her as much as possible as the shots rang out. I felt a white hot, searing pain in my left shoulder and Ayla was crying and screaming, and I simply prayed that it was only because she was scared… I prayed that I had managed to protect her. …I was her father. That was my most important job. I felt another excruciating blow, in my back… below my ribs. I wondered what the likelihood of survival was after a blow to the stomach as my knees gave out from the pain. I kept my weight off Ayla with my elbows, somehow—unbelievably—having the presence of mind to think that it must be adrenaline allowing me to keep my left elbow upright.

The shots stopped and despite feeling I should simply play dead… I lifted my head to look at the man. He had nothing but grief in his eyes—no anger, no satisfaction at the vengeance he'd pursued and gained… just sadness. He stared me in the eyes, turned the gun to rest beneath his chin, and pulled the trigger.

I tucked my head down in alarm, finally feeling the strain on my arm. It was with effort that I rolled onto my right side, groaning at the pain, trying to take in Ayla's form. …She had blood on her clothing, but I was fairly certain it was mine. She was crying again, sitting herself up and trying to crawl onto my chest. I rolled onto my back, gritting my teeth against the unimaginable, unendurable pain so that she could sit on me and hold me and feel safe again. I wrapped my good arm around her and through labored, wheezing breaths, murmured, "…It's okay, Ayla… you're safe, sweetheart. Daddy's here. …Daddy won't let anything hurt you. …Daddy loves you."

"Jace?" I let my eyes flicker closed as Ayla whimpered out a meek, "Mama?" …Sara. There it was—my wish fulfilled. I would get to see her again.

In a moment she was hovering above me, her cheeks red from running, her curls windswept, her eyes wide. …She was worried about me, in that moment, and that truth… the love I saw in her eyes, even if it wasn't the love I wanted to see… it was enough for me. "Sara…" I wheezed out, and she gently pulled Ayla from me to look at my shoulder.

"…There's too much blood for this. …Did you get hit anywhere else?"

"I… love you… Sara."

Tears welled in her eyes and she shook her head. "Stop it. …Paramedics are on their way, Jace. You… You're gonna be fine."

I shook my head. "I… have never loved anyone… like you. …I want… I want you to be happy, Sara." I drew in another labored breath, aware that the black along the edges of my vision was rather ominous. But Ayla was safe… Sara was safe.

"No." She said, tears falling freely now. "No, Jace…"

"I'm… sorry… for… putting my own… happiness… over yours. ...I just… couldn't… live without… you."

"Help!" She yelled, turning back towards the entrance, frantic. "Somebody! Please! …We need some help in here!"

"Can… I… hold Ayla?"

Sara wiped stubbornly at her beautiful dark eyes and passed the child to me. I grunted softly, but the pain wasn't so bad anymore. …I felt detached from it. Numb.

"Ayla…"

"Dada." She said, hugging me again. I wrapped my good arm around her and kissed her curls—Sara's curls—once more.

"I love you, baby. Daddy… loves…"

"Love." She said, clear as day, the first time she'd uttered the word. I felt tears prick my eyes as I realized the extent of my loss. …I had been content dying to save her life, but in a moment reality washed over me… I would never see her grow up, graduate from high school, go to college… I would never see her fall in love or get married or become a mother herself. …I would miss every birthday, every holiday, every dimple-cheeked smile. I found myself sobbing, suddenly, clutching her to me.

And then Gil was there, and though I expected animosity on my part… anger and resentment and disdain… it didn't come. He was like salvation… his presence as necessary as Sara's. …Because despite the enormity of my loss, it would be greater for Ayla. …She wouldn't have a father to beat away the boys and walk her down the aisle and make her feel like a princess. I had once hated the man for insinuating that my family was his, and now…

"Gil…" I said, struggling to focus my gaze on him, swallowing my grief back with difficulty. He looked at me, and I was relieved to see none of our past animosity in his eyes either. I gasped for air. "I… I want you… to promise me…" I started hacking then and my vision blurred. I felt Sara's small hands clutching my hand, and squeezed them before pulling from her and extending it in the direction I thought the man was.

I felt him take it, and I forced my eyes back to him. "…Promise me… that… that you'll… love her… like your own." I felt tears again, but they didn't consume me this time. …My grief was not nearly as important as getting this out. "…Promise… that she'll never… go without… a father…"

His grip tightened on mine and his voice was shaking. He didn't try to delude me or himself, as Sara had, with thoughts of receiving help… he knew I was dying, and that at this point, there was nothing that could be done. He swallowed hard and met my wavering gaze. "I promise."

I nodded, letting go of his hand to let it fall on my daughter's back again, taking comfort in her closeness. Sara bent over me, her tears falling on my face, and laid a kiss to my forehead, and then lightly to my lips. It was a chaste kiss… it did not possess the passion that I wished it did… but it was more than I could have hoped for, and I let my eyes fall closed.