"No. We didn't"

"Uh…yeah, we kinda did."

"Ryo!"

"What? I don't have any power over how the system works! It's not my fault."

"That's Rowen's department, right?"

"What?" The blue haired man looked scared, "I couldn't do anything! I'm—wha—oh, quit ganging up on me! I got no more power over what happened than you do!"

Sage couldn't help but laugh. It was too ironic, too hilarious to even fathom the consequences. In short—

They had missed their connection.

It was no one's fault, really. The runways had been packed with planes landing and taking off, so theirs had been forced to circle. Unfortunately, one of the planes that was taking of had been their next one.

"Hey, blondie, there's no reason to laugh! You don't see me giggling over here, do you?" Kento crossed his arms.

"Yeah, I know," He grinned, "I haven't eaten a real meal for twelve hours. Let's grab a lunch, huh?"

"Dinner," Tyler corrected him.

"Do I care, just as long as it's food," He stretched and Kento jabbed him in the stomach.

"You're starting to sound like me."

"God forbid," Sage grinned and they picked up their bags, heading for the nearest food court. As economical as ever, he headed for the Steak and Potato Company, his taste buds all ready for a gyro.

Cye followed him, as did Tyler. They talked while in line, about everything and anything that they hadn't thought of while on the plane. There was a considerable lack of topics, but it seemed to settle on what ethnic food was the best, and whether pizza was really from Italy.

This argument lasted far into their forced layover, and Sage found himself tiring of the company. They were still in Amsterdam, but the airport had given them a hotel room until their new flight the next morning, which should get them to Japan late that night.

"God, I love Clarion Inns," He collapsed face first onto his chosen bed, plucking the pillow out from under the stiff hotel blanket with numbed fingers. He hugged it to his chest tightly as he turned onto his back, trying to breathe a little easier.

"Hey, Sage, you all right?" Tyler asked, sitting on his own bed to pull off his shoes, "How's the injuries?"

"Other than the fact that they're lasting way beyond what I'm used to—" He groaned as he bent his wrist too far one way, "—Oh, man, it may hurt, but, damn, it feels good to move. Every muscle is screaming for a nice, old-fashioned shoot-out."

"I'll go call the OK Corral and see if they can book us a reservation for high noon," Tyler joked, running a hand through his hair. He reached for the remote, but Sage snagged it first and flicked on the television.

"Okay, now, news," He sighed as Dutch, German, British, and other channels flashed by. Finally, he hit CNN, "Gotcha. Let's see what's going down in the good ol' US of A."

"Turn it up," Tyler motioned for him to look at the screen, "That's our car!"

"Two FBI agents were severely injured in a deadly car crash yesterday, after an unknown assailant ran them off the road and into the ravine that you see behind me," The newscaster spoke gravely, as they were trained to do. "Agent Matthew Ruble is in stable condition in Lady of the Angels Medical Center, but Agent Theodora Donovan was killed instantly…"

"Ted…" Tyler turned white, "And Matt…"

"At least Matt's alive," Sage lay back on the bed, tired now, beyond all belief.

"Ted was Cassandra's sister," The darker-haired agent stared at the television as it flashed images of the accordian-ized car, the crash site, and the white shroud that lay over a form on the highway.

"Tyler, why are we running from this? Why aren't we standing up and bringing these guys to the law?" He turned to his stupefied friend, "We're running, for crying out loud. I thought that we would never do that."

"Japan is your home turf. If they want you that bad, you'll have the home field advantage, right?" Tyler shook his head, "Besides, you got friends there that can take care of you and let me go home."

"My home turf is Washington now," The blonde grimaced and removed his ankle and wrist braces, sighing at the stiffness that was released, "But I know enough about Toyama and Japan to have an advantage again, I guess."

"Oh, man," The other pointed at the screen, "They're talking about us!"

Sage unmuted the television.

"—are missing. Thought to have been in the car with the two other agents, these two men have not been found and have thought to have been taken prisoner by the assailant," The British voice was slow, but dramatic in its monotony. "Pending notification of next of kin, their names have not been released as of yet."

Sage looked at Tyler, then up at the door that connected their room to Ryo and Rowen's. Both Ronins came bursting in at the same time, and Kento and Cye, who had been talking with them, slipped in as well.

"Sage, are you watching this?" Rowen demanded.

"Yeah," He nodded, "I can't believe it."

"They think that you're hostages," Ryo sat on Sage's bed, moving a wayward brace out of the way, "How can we use that?"

"No clue," Sage was slightly uncomfortable. He hadn't cleaned the stitches in his side and shoulder lately, and his braces were lying out in plain sight of the others. He didn't want them thinking that he couldn't take care of himself. "Maybe, if we think that someone else got to us first—"

"—No they would have searched the car after they ran them off the road. They know that we got away. They just don't know where to," Tyler shook his head, "We all need our sleep, so how about we just go to bed and try to forget this?"

Everyone agreed in their own way. Sage fell back onto the bed and covered his face with the pillow while the others grunted, sighed, and yawned their approval of the plan. A rude awakening awaited Sage when he sat up and strained the last few stitches in is side.

"Yeeoowch!" His cry of surprised pain sent Tyler dashing out of the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth, "I'm okay! Honest! I just pulled something."

"You scare me like that, you aren't gonna need Saeki to kill you," Tyler narrowed his eyes.

Sage stood and milled around the room, absentmindedly itching at his shoulder. The last few stitches on both wounds were due to fall out any day now, but they were still tender to the touch.

Thinking that a nice cold drink might be a good idea, he grabbed the ice bucket, "Hey, Tyler, I'm going to get some ice. I'll be back in a minute or two."

In hindsight, he wished that he hadn't.

The ice machine was loud, but not as loud as the bullet shot. The plastic bucket in Sage's hand clattered to the floor, spilling ice over the tiled surface as he jerked his hand away from the machine.

The bullet lodged itself in the fake wood front, spraying paper and plastic into his face. He spun to dive behind a Pepsi machine as the next bullet shattered the plaster in the wall next to his ear.

"Where's Tyler when I need him?" He muttered, then patted the pop machine, "How did they know where we were? How did they know that we would be here?"

Another bullet, this one closer. He saw the source of the gunfire. A man, Chinese by appearance, was crouched in a hotel room doorway, holding the gun trained on him. Other patrons had looked out of their rooms in morbid curiosity, while others had ducked back in and no doubt gone for their phones.

"Sage!" A bullet shot, this one recognizable, tore up the carpet in front of the gunman's hideaway.

"Tyler! About time! Did anyone call the police?"

"Oh, yeah, like Nine-One-One really answers in Amsterdam," His friend's satiric voice was almost enough to make Sage wish for home.

Another bullet thudded into the pop machine front, and Sage felt a stab of pain as the vender bucked against his shoulder. He could see his wrists beginning to bruise again, and he didn't even want to look at his ankles.

"FBI man!" The gunman called, a grin in his voice, "I make you a deal. You come out and make this easy for me, or we cost Pepsi and company another few hundred to replace the Swiss cheese that the box is going to become."

"Cocky, bastard, aren't you?" Sage snapped, and the next bullet shuddered deeper into the vender.

"I have a reason to be," The man laughed, "I have a nice clear shot at you, kid, and I don't plan to miss."

Another shot rang out and Sage fell forward against the wall, pain screaming through his chest as his shoulder hit the wall. He rolled against the vertical surface, hand pressed to his side.

How the bastard had reopened the stitches, he would probably never know. All he knew now was that his old wound was open again, and bleeding, though not as bad as a gunshot usually would have.

"With this, I could have killed out at any time, blondie," The gunner called, "Hey. Other FBI man! Tell your friend to be smart!"

"He is the smart one!" Tyler scoffed.

"Then we go to option two," The door slammed closed.

Without thinking, Sage dove into the open, intending to break in the door that the gunman had disappeared into. This was a gamble the Chinese man had taken as well. Sage barely had time to kick the boxy-looking weapon out of his grip before the gunman fell into a Tae Kwon Doe stance.

He launched a flurry of punches, hoping to catch Mr. Chinese Man off guard. Each punch was blocked or avoided, and the gunman returned his attacks with equal fury. Blocking wasn't enough for him.

Sage swung down and blocked a kick, then swung his arms up to ward off a right hook to the jaw. Without thinking, he pulled back and let fly, landing a haymaker to Chinese Man's jaw.

The Man's head snapped back and he was stunned long enough for Sage to horse-kick him in the stomach, but he recovered quickly from the agent's sudden change from martial arts to brawling.

Sage nimbly avoided the next few kicks, thankful that his ankles did not hurt anymore. He was lucky that he, at least, had not reinjured them recently. His left wrist was a different story, however.

Chinese Man snapped his hand out, snagging Sage's collar. Old karate came back into play, and he easily broke the hold, slipping, once again, out of range.

Now the gunman fought dirty.

A horse-kick, similar to his own, hit Sage in the chest, knocking him onto the floor. Out of sheer irony, he realized dumbly that his side really wasn't bleeding all that much. I must be healing better than I thought…

A gunshot from Tyler's gun knocked Chinese Man back, spinning him around before dropping him to the floor. Breathing heavily, Sage allowed Kento to haul him to his feet.

"Man, you really do need us," Kento looked down at the motionless man.

"He's moving!" Tyler cried, shoving Kento and Sage into the alcove that housed the vending machines. Two gunshots went off simultaneously, and Chinese Man fell still, this time really dead.

Tyler slumped back against the wall and slid, leaving a smear of red where his back had touched. He was breathing shallowly, but was still alive when Sage knelt beside him, slapping his face.

"Tyler! Tyler, talk to me!" He cried, ripping off his own t-shirt to use as a pressure bandage. Kento grimaced at the sight of his reddened bandages, "C'mon, man, a little gunshot like this never got me down, and I'm a desk jockey, remember?"

"Well that—shot—felt like I got—kicked by a bull," Tyler wasn't struggling to breath because of the injury, he was out of breath because he had gotten the wind knocked out of him, "Whoo, that hurts, Sage…It ain't that bad, though."

"Yeah, I know," Sage heard the sound of running footsteps and saw Ryo and Rowen move out of the way, making room for Cye to lead the law enforcement in.

They moved Tyler out of the hotel in an ambulance, after making a promise to contact the United States Embassy about his friend's injuries…and existence. Sage was left to answer question after question, writing statements and such, until he felt like tipping over from fatigue.

The flight was catching up to him, and he was tired.

Finally, when it was all over, and the officers were gone, he lie down on his bed and fell asleep, the aching pain in his wrists forgotten.