A/N: So, this is a bit of a longer chapter, I tried to shorten it and the flow just didn't work so I apologize if it's too long.

All mistakes are mine.

There is brief use of language in this chapter, just to be aware.

Reviews are greatly appreciated; they make my day a little brighter.

Thanks!

Sad-Blue-Eyed-Angel 2010

Jeff was not happy after learning all there was about The Hunter. The serial killer chose his 'prey' at random and after spiriting them away to a privately owned property, he'd leave little gifts or tools for the prey to release themselves from their restraints and then he'd hunt them. If the person The Hunter selected used the tools to free themselves, they accepted the terms to The Hunter's twisted game unknowingly and were sacrificing their own lives. The police didn't know who The Hunter was, he'd managed to stay out of police sight for years. They had their suspicions, but with no evidence apart from the many bodies…investigators were out of luck. They had no Ace in the hole. No smoking gun. No suspect. No case.

The Hunter's last prey had been an unfortunate soul that had suffered a breakdown of his car in the vicinity. Police arrived to locate his body after two hours from the hunt which had been completed. It'd been gruesome. The police showed Jeff the pictures that weren't classified and prepared him for the likelihood that his son wasn't going to survive. Nobody ever had before.

~.~.~.~.~

Alan stumbled through the woods; the sun had since come up. Alan was cradling his arm and pointedly ignoring the injury to his thigh. His feet had since stopped hurting, having become numb to the number of twigs and stubs that he stepped on. He couldn't help but to curse his inability to walk straight. Virgil had once remarked that when overly tired, Alan was more likely to fall and hurt himself because of his inclination for in-toeing. Gordon called it being pigeon-toed. Alan, Scott, and John called it clumsy. He had to get out of here, but his movement was slow due to his bumbling steps. A low hum nearby caught Alan's attention and he lifted his gaze. That sounded like a truck. Staggering in the direction he heard the highway noise; Alan made his way through the dense foliage.

After another half hour spent stumbling through the trees, Alan saw a vehicle coming up the road from a distance. Feeling his eyes well up with tears, Alan hoped the relief he felt wasn't going to be for naught. Alan pitched out of the forest, setting foot onto the paved highway. Alan didn't think of the fact that vehicles tend to move fast and were at minimum three or four times bigger than himself. He was just consumed with relief that he had survived. Facing the oncoming traffic, Alan held his arms out to the side, using his own body as a roadblock to force oncoming traffic to stop. 'Please stop, please!'

~.~.~.~.~

"Whoa, we're halfway there, whoa livin on a prayer!" A husband and wife sang together. The husband looked away from the road, glancing at his wife who was clapping to the beat of the song before she started playing the air guitar. They both were singing, jovially. The wife looked over at her husband, giving him a flirtatious wink before she looked out the windshield with a smile which fast fell.

"Oh my God!" Suddenly, the wife gasped in horror, throwing her hands up to cover her face and made her husband look back at the road.

"Shit!" The husband slammed on the brakes, feeling the car lurch to the side at the sudden attempt to stop. There was an almighty squeal as tires skidded across pavement and then it was over. Alan had his eyes clamped closed and he had been holding his breath. He stood his ground. The vehicle had come to a stop, not even five feet from where he stood. The husband and wife panted, both shaking visibly at what almost happened. The husband put on his hazard lights and climbed from the vehicle, all fury and anger. As he stalked around to the front of the car to chew the boy out, all anger soon vanished as he took in how Alan looked. A young teenage boy stood in the road, clad in dirty, torn socks, blue plaid boxers and a filthy white t-shirt streaked with dirt and blood. But that wasn't all the husband saw. He saw the arrow sticking out of Alan's thigh as well as the blood dripping from his elbow and the scratches all over his face. The husband gasped when he took in the blood that was leaving a trail down the side of Alan's head. He was no longer angry, now he was horrified. "Kid, are you okay?"

Alan couldn't speak, the song was still playing in the background. 'You live for the fight when that's all that you've got.' Alan tried to find his words and all he could muster came out as a broken whisper.

"I want my dad."

"Susan, call the police. This kid is hurt bad." The husband said loudly as he offered his hand to the injured boy. "Come on son, come here and let's get out of the road."

Alan tentatively reached out his uninjured arm and then his legs gave way. The relief that struck his system released an almost drug like high. The man lunged forward, grabbing Alan, and pulling him close. His wife opened the backseat, and he gently maneuvered the limp teen in to lay down. His wife gasped at the arrow sticking out of Alan's thigh and she began talking hurriedly on her cell phone while she went to the trunk and began digging in her and her husband's luggage for a towel or anything that could staunch the bleeding.

~.~.~.~.~

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"…"

"Hello? 9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance, please. My…my husband and I…we…we almost hit a kid standing in the road…but he's hurt."

"Ma'am, please slow down. Where do you need emergency services?"

"Mi-mile marker 56, just out near the hill. A young boy is hurt."

"A boy is hurt? Can you describe his injuries? Was he part of a car accident or hit and run?"

"No…he…he's got an arrow coming out of his leg and his ear, it's been cut. He's bleeding. Aaron here's a towel."

"Beg your pardon, please repeat?"

"My husband and I almost hit a kid that was standing in the road. He's bleeding. He's got an arrow sticking out of his leg and he's bleeding from his ear which has been almost completely cut off. His arm is bleeding badly as well."

A noise in the background muffled the call for a moment before the voice became clear once more. This time though the voice wasn't directed at the dispatcher on the line.

"You're going to be okay sweetheart. We're getting help now."

"Ma'am, where did you say you needed emergency services again?"

"The Hill…mile marker 56. Please hurry."

"Is the boy conscious?"

"Barely, he just passed out." The voice shook as the conversation carried on. "It's going to be okay sweetheart; you're going to be okay."

"I've sent emergency services your way, they should be with you soon. Is the boy talking?"

"He's asked for his dad, but that's it. Hold on, he's waking up! Sweetheart, come on. It's okay, you're okay."

"Can you tell how old he is?"

"Uh, maybe thirteen or fourteen?"

"Please stay on the line with me until paramedics reach your location." The dispatcher requested. The voice of the caller kept up a steady stream of whispered reassurances to the boy.

~.~.~.~.~

Jeff sat in the precinct; eyes closed while trying not to allow the building tears to fall. Twenty hours. The longer this went on, the less Jeff felt like holding out hope. He wanted his wife in that moment, more than ever. He longed for her calming presence and infectious optimism. He wanted his baby boy back.

"Lucy, please protect our baby. Don't take him from me yet, please my dearest. I'm not ready to say goodbye." Jeff pleaded, uncaring who was listening. The terrified father just wanted his son back in his arms.

A phone rang somewhere in the room and a uniformed officer answered the call. A few minutes were spent conversing before Jeff heard one of the many officers assigned to Jeff's missing son's case answer almost excitedly.

"Yes, we'll be there as quick as we can. See you soon." Jeff didn't dare lift his head, believing that to get a false lead to be the same as admitting Alan was probably dead. Jeff wanted to believe his baby would be okay. But the longer this went on, the less hope he had to hold on to. "Mr. Tracy, I need you to come with me."

Jeff lifted his head to meet the officer's eyes. The way the officer spoke made Jeff believe that the worst possible outcome had occurred. Jeff swallowed thickly; his heart leapt into his throat. The officer sounded short of breath.

"We believe your son has been found." The officer said, though the way it was declared was what made Jeff's heart clench. "Alive."

~.~.~.~.~

A young man yawned when he exited the crew's sleeping quarters as he went to get a mug of coffee. He greeted one of his colleagues that was just finishing dishing up a plate of eggs as part of a platter of food that was fit for a king.

"Mm. That smells good. Hope there's some for me."

"Sure, grab a plate. You want some coffee?"

"You bet."

Several more people slowly emerged from the crew's sleeping quarters as the smell of breakfast and coffee penetrated the veil of slumber. Just as the twelve men and women started digging into their meal, an alarm sounded which interrupted the peaceful silence followed by an automated voice.

Attention crews: ambulance 23, call location: The Hill, mile marker 56, teenage male with suspicious injuries, be advised.

"Well, I guess breakfast just isn't in the cards this morning." Someone said as they took a bite of piping hot food and washed it down with a mouthful of scalding hot coffee. "Let's go gang!"

Three people, two men and a woman ran from the room, emergency bags slung over one shoulder each as they headed out for their rig. After they left, one of the crew that was left behind looked at one of his comrades.

"Did they just say The Hill?"

The nine remaining crew members shared uneasy looks back and forth. All other calls to The Hill hadn't required an ambulance. So, was this one of those cases?

"I know we weren't requested, but do you think we should go as back up in case this one isn't so cut and dry?"

The remaining crew shared another meaningful glance before someone spoke up.

"With the use of suspicious injuries in the same sentence, I'd say hell yeah."

"Let's go, we've got some distance to make up."

Barely five minutes behind the ambulance, the crew to the fire squad was dressed out in full gear and loaded into the fire rescue truck. With one flick of a switch, the siren atop the fire truck was sounding and the large red truck pulled away from the station. There was no time to lose.

~.~.~.~.~

Susan was kneeling outside the passenger side backseat door as she leaned in, holding her freshly washed makeup removing cloth to Alan's head. She was trying her best to control the bleeding while her husband Aaron was on the driver's side, keeping a towel they'd packed for a visit to the beach secured around Alan's leg. The phone call with the dispatcher had dropped, cell phone coverage out here was spotty, so Susan was fortunate to get a call through in the first place. The tick-tick sound emitted from the use of hazard lights ate up the silence of the car.

The teenager was laying in the backseat of the relatively new Mazda, staring up at the ceiling while he let these total strangers tend to his wounds. His dad and brothers would probably be mad because Alan was failing every 'stranger danger' rule in the rule book, but at this point…Alan simply didn't care. He just wanted his dad, wanted to go home, and forget this whole event.

"You're going to be okay sweetie. Just stay calm." Susan murmured as she gazed at Alan, her smile upside down to Alan since Alan was laying down. They'd moved the car out of the road and to the shoulder. Susan took off her cardigan and balled it up behind Alan's head so he could lay flat rather than with his neck craned back.

"Hey kiddo, how're you holding up?" Aaron asked as he readjusted his grasp on the towel, briefly checking it to make sure he wasn't inadvertently causing more damage with a tight grip.

"It hurts." Alan whispered, his bottom lip trembling. He was in so much pain. The adrenaline rush he'd experienced was beginning to wear off and as a result, Alan was made very much aware of just how much pain he was in.

"How old are you?" Aaron questioned as he looked up. The sound of a siren echoed in the distance.

Alan bit his lip, unsure if he should answer.

"It's okay sweetheart, we're not going to hurt you." Susan said, trying to soothe the boy.

"Fourteen." Was that really his voice? He sounded like he was trying to talk with a large frog in his throat.

Susan and Aaron shared a look across the backseat.

"Who did this to you?" Aaron asked, voice tight with tension.

"I don't know." Alan whispered, body beginning to shake from a delay of shock. His eyes began swimming with tears once more. Alan didn't dare speak any louder than was strictly necessary. "I don't know."

As if to save Alan from further questions, a police cruiser came barreling around the corner with an ambulance close behind. Aaron waved a hand, staying stooped over with one hand on the towel, keeping it secured to Alan's leg.

~.~.~.~.~

John didn't tell any of his brothers what he was doing at present. They all had much bigger fish to fry. He was currently hacking into the FBI's most wanted list so he could get more information on The Hunter. He'd rather none of his brothers ever learn more than what the newspapers provided.

Once he'd gained access to the database, John did a search and found a profile. There was no name other than the pseudonym nor any descriptions available. What John did find however was a manifest of stolen lives. The ages of victims ranged in ages as low as eighteen up through almost eighty years old. John swallowed thickly as he looked through the pictures of everyone and looked through each cause of death. As much as he didn't wish to see, he looked through the compilation of crime scene photographs that were stored. He wasn't unfamiliar with death; he was a member of International Rescue. He'd seen gruesome before, but this was a new level. This was intentional, not accidental or an act of nature.

This person…The Hunter was an absolute monster. It didn't matter how old a person was or for that matter who the person had in their lives. And after going through the various ways each person was systematically murdered, John felt his stomach clench. He was going to be sick.

Standing hurriedly, John fled the control room, and barely made the bathroom. Retching, John could only think of one of the last photos in the archives, one of the victims had blue eyes. They were a similar shade to Alan's. The lifeless eyes looked back at the one taking pictures, almost asking what they'd done to deserve a death such as this. The crime scene photo showed that the victim had been crying before death, the tear tracks on the cheeks were unmistakable.

'Poor Alan'. John felt his soul crying out for his baby brother and he wanted to see the kid alive. He'd gladly go back to a life of modest means, and he'd give up his beloved Thunderbird for the chance to have his brother back. He never knew how much he'd miss the kid until he was no longer there to get under his skin or wrap them all around his finger. And it hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours since his abduction. Life as they all knew it was destroyed if Alan succumbed to The Hunter.

~.~.~.~.~

Alan lay strapped to a gurney, his leg hot and tight because paramedics worried the arrow would shift and cause further harm. They had swathed his leg in bandages to prevent the arrow from moving. The same could be said for his arm. Alan kept hoping that soon he could have his dad at his side.

"We're almost there, kiddo." One of the paramedics said reassuringly. He was holding a piece of gauze to the side of Alan's head. Alan didn't care how much longer he had to stick it out inside this ambulance, just so long as he got to see his dad.

Feeling the ambulance slow and turn, made Alan tilt his head. Maybe his dad was here? He hoped so, he hoped he wouldn't get grounded when he finally told his dad what he'd done to survive. It wasn't what Alan was proud of and hoped his dad wouldn't kick him out. He'd gone against what International Rescue creed had been and Alan didn't know how to forgive himself.

The moment the ambulance stopped; Alan waited until the door opened. The gurney was lowered from the vehicle, minor jarring almost sending Alan through the roof. His leg was killing him. The gurney was wheeled inside and within minutes a familiar voice had Alan turning his head.

"Alan!" Jeff called, feeling his heart stutter as he took in his child's injuries. Jeff closed the distance in a matter of long strides and then Alan was getting what he wanted. Jeff was holding his child close, the patriarch gathered his youngest son into his arms and refused to let go. A ball of emotion found it's way into Jeff's throat and tightened up as he tried not to cry.

"Dad!" Alan sounded so much younger than his age belied, but Jeff couldn't fault him for that. Alan opened his eyes momentarily as Jeff pulled away to look at his son and get an idea of what he'd been through. What Alan saw shocked him. When Alan spoke, his tone of voice sounded mystified. He frowned in concern as he reached up and ran one of his thumbs beneath his father's eye. "You're crying."

"Of course, I'm crying. I thought I lost you. I'd have never forgiven myself if I had." Jeff kissed Alan's face all over, uncaring of the dirt, blood, scratches, or dried sweat. His baby was safe. Clenching his eyes closed, Jeff tried to stop the tears from falling, but nothing could. He was so insanely happy, grateful his baby's life had been spared. So many times, there was never any closure. But Jeff wanted to believe that this was done.

~.~.~.~.~

It went without saying that once Alan arrived at the hospital, he was taken in for surgery to have the arrow removed and the hole sewn up. Then stitches for the laceration on Alan's forearm. Alan was awake for the whole thing; both his arm and leg being injected with local anesthetic to deaden the areas of concern. Alan wasn't a fan; his dad had been permitted to sit by his side before he was taken to a sterile room where he could receive treatment. Alan had been surprised to learn that he also needed stitches for his ear as he barely felt the injury when it occurred.

Alan was sitting in his hospital bed, very aware now of a throbbing in his ear after he had to have stitches placed. The surgeon placed fifteen stitches after assessing the laceration and determined Alan's need. When that was completed, the teen was to be left in the care of his father and was now sporting an earmuff like bandage over his ear to make sure he didn't pick. Not that Alan planned on it.

When all was said and done, Alan was taken to a private room where his father was waiting. As soon as Alan was settled in his bed, he practically climbed into his dad's arms as he sought comfort. He didn't know how to tell his father, but as Murphy's Law often dictated Alan wasn't given too long a wait time before a police officer was standing outside his room door. Alan would have rather been left alone. He didn't want to talk to anyone about it.

"May I have a few moments of your time, son?" The lead investigator asked after Jeff let him in at Alan's behest. Jeff had returned to Alan's bedside, only sitting in a chair rather than beside Alan.

Alan didn't speak up immediately, but he nodded at the officer.

"So, Alan, my name is Detective Strom. I'm the lead investigator over your kidnapping. I had a couple questions for you regarding your ordeal. Do you mind?" Detective Strom asked as he stayed standing near the foot of Alan's hospital bed. He was waiting for permission to continue before he claimed a seat.

Alan looked at Jeff, searching his eyes for an answer and Jeff nodded while meeting Alan's gaze.

"Okay." Alan finally replied. He didn't care now that he was a teenager instead of a small child, he reached across the expanse of bed to grasp his father's hand. He wanted and hoped that some of his father's indomitable strength would rub off onto him. Alan was grateful when his father stood from his seat beside Alan's bed to sit next to him.

"Care to tell me what happened just before you were kidnapped?"

Alan's lips thinned as he recalled the experience. He wished he'd forget. That was possibly one of the scariest things he'd experienced thus far. But he told the officer about his harrowing journey.

"I tried to run after he attacked the tent, I thought enough to knock some stuff over in hopes that it'd create too many obstacles. I was too afraid to look at him. He tackled me to the ground twice when I tried to reach my dad and he scooped me up the second time. I weigh 114 pounds; he threw me over his shoulder like I was just a sack of flour. I tried to get away. I tried hitting his back and it had no effect and he held me in such a way that my feet never came into contact with him. I tried to grab at a knife that was in a sheath on his hip, but I dropped it. Then we were just gone. He moved through the woods so fast I thought that he wasn't human. Then the last thing I remember was screaming for my dad. He had stopped, threw me on the ground and it knocked the air out of me. I recall him grabbing a bottle from some sort of stand that was a few feet off the ground. Some sort of structure."

"Like a hunting blind?" Jeff interrupted.

"I guess. I've never seen one before. Anyway, he grabbed a bottle and poured a liquid out into a small towel and before I could do anything, he covered my mouth and nose with the cloth. It smelled weird, like…um...kind of sweet, I guess. I don't remember what happened after that until I woke up in an outbuilding." Alan paused in his explanation as he recalled how he felt when he woke up. He'd had a headache and was dizzy. He didn't know what he'd been made to breathe.

"Okay, so what happened after you came to? Do you recall or were things pretty fuzzy?" The officer asked, writing everything Alan said down. He was gentle in his approach, needing as much information as possible. If this was a result of an abduction gone wrong, then maybe The Hunter was getting lax, and they'd be able to capture him and get justice for his many victims.

"I woke up and found myself fastened to the wall, I had shackles around my ankles and these weird looking cuffs on my wrists. They were connected by a chain so standing up for long was impossible. I found a weird, flattened nail and picked the lock on the cuffs around my wrists."

"Since when did you learn how to pick locks?" Detective Strom asked, meanwhile Jeff stared in open mouth shock, flabbergasted to learn his son knew such a technique.

"My babysitter Parker used to regularly lock himself out of his house and I watched him numerous times and just picked up the habit. Then I just expanded from there because bullies routinely steal my roommate's locker key at school so I learned how to pick his lock so he could get his books in time for class." Alan didn't exactly tell the whole truth of where he learned to pick locks, he couldn't exactly say that his babysitter was an ex-thief from the bowels of London's underworld. That would probably get his dad in loads of trouble. And he wasn't lying about picking Fermat's locker lock. His roommate was forever getting his keys nicked and not be able to find a spare, so Alan applied what he knew to help his friend.

"Okay, please continue."

"After I got myself freed from my restraints, I tried to figure out where I was. I looked out the window to see a sign, but it was so old I couldn't read it very well. It said something like 'snowbird haven' cabin forty-five."

Detective Strom leafed through some notes he had previous, and he nodded. "Well, you're not far off on the name. Instead of Haven it's Heaven. Snowbird Heaven Cabin Forty-Five. It used to be part of a program that the USDA offered that allowed people the opportunity to purchase cabins on federal land. The cabin you were in was found to have been purchased under the name Edith Barba. The only questionable thing is, she's been dead for ten years and it was purchased nine years ago."

Alan and Jeff both stared in shock at what the officer said.

"Is it possible that Ms. Barba's name was used fraudulently?" Jeff asked, shocked to wonder at the lengths this serial killer had gone to conceal himself for his own purposes.

"Well, that is what my team and I are trying to figure out. We know she had a son, but he is impossible to contact. We're unable to find him, it's like he never existed." Detective Strom said before he looked at Alan. "Let's continue, if you feel comfortable."

"Okay, well after I figured out that I was in a federal building, I started trying to get out. The windows were nailed shut, but surprisingly the door was unlocked. I opened the door and when nobody popped out at me, I just started running. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, my only focus was getting away from whoever it was that grabbed me."

Jeff felt his heart break a little at the note of fear he could detect in his son's voice. He should never have experienced such a thing.

"The sun was setting around the time I escaped, and I just ran. I ducked into the tree line so I could have some cover and just tried to be quick, but also quiet." Alan recounted. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, and he blinked furiously to not allow the burn in his eyes to become the tears that so desperately wanted to form. Alan felt his throat get tight and when he spoke, it came out as a croak. "Can I take a break please?"

"Sure son, this isn't an interrogation. It's just an informal means of gathering intel." Detective Strom said reassuringly. "I'll make myself scarce for a few minutes to give you time to catch your breath and collect yourself. You're doing a remarkable job."

Once Detective Strom made his exit, Alan immediately began trembling. The metal frame of Alan's hospital bed squeaked slightly from the force of the shakes.

"Alan, are you okay?" Jeff asked, worried for his son.

"I just really want to go home." Alan admitted brokenly. "I don't want to think about it anymore, it was bad enough going through it, but to discuss what I went through…I just…"

Alan shook his head with his eyes closed and Jeff, who was trying to be reassuring himself thought of something that might make Alan feel better.

"How about we give your brothers a call? Hmm? I haven't been able to call them but once since you initially went missing. They haven't heard that we've recovered you. They're probably climbing the walls."

Jeff dug into his pocket and pulled his phone out. Pressing speed dial one, Jeff put the phone on speaker.

~.~.~.~.~

Scott ran his hands through his hair, sighing frustratedly. He had a conglomeration of documents that he was flicking through that had been received from John regarding their own investigation into who may be The Hunter. He was so focused on the paperwork in front of him that when his phone rang in his pocket, it not only startled him, but it had the same effect on his brothers who had their own piles of documents. Scott dug into his pocket and pulled his phone out. He heaved another sigh before he answered and set the phone to the side.

"Hey dad, any news yet? Any luck finding Alan?" Scott questioned absentmindedly. Jeff winked at Alan; it was obvious Scott wasn't looking at his phone. Jeff had since switched to video mode, and he was staring at the ceiling of his office.

"Scott, why don't you see for yourself?" Jeff barely finished his sentence when all the boys at home on the island crowded the screen and then Jeff was getting a request to join conference mode on the phone from John.

"Alan!" Scott's voice melted with the relief he felt at seeing his baby brother's big blue eyes. He took in the scratches on Alan's face and took them in stride. But he frowned when he noticed something else, bruising around his little brother's throat in the shape of a hand as well as dried blood that had left a trail down the side of Alan's neck. "Are you alright?"

Alan didn't know what Scott meant. Was he alright? Eventually, maybe. Now? Alan was probably far from the definition of alright, especially in his brother's books. Their dad cut in on the conversation.

"Son, he's going to be fine with time. We can't talk long, but your brother needed a little slice of home. We're talking with a detective in the case to see if we can't provide more information to catch the man that did this to your brother.

"I can show you guys where he's at." Alan whispered, feeling like he needed to get his crime out so his family can decide if he's trustworthy enough to bring home. Or if it'd be safer to cut their losses and tell Alan he no longer had a home to return to. At his family's questioning looks, Alan lowered his head. He started off in a forlorn whisper. "You guys…I did something very wrong."

Alan's brothers and their father went silent as Alan began spinning the tale, telling them how he'd been frantically trying to just get away. He had no intentions of seeing the one that took him, he was determined. But it wasn't meant to be. He told his family about getting shot, running through the forest, terrified and in pain. He could hear the man that took him at intervals, he kept laughing. Alan knew he was there, but he continually kept hoping he wouldn't see him. Then the sun started to come up. In the distance the sky began to take on a dusky pink hue and Alan suddenly found himself in not only an encounter that felt like a battle of wills, but he was face to face with his tormentor and Alan had to fight to survive. The man that had taken him had smiled in such a way that made Alan feel his skin crawl. Then Alan was back there again, beneath the man that meant to kill him with that hand, clamped tightly around his throat and his body pinned by the weight of a fully grown man. The Hunter was going in for the kill, was preparing to do to Alan what Alan in turn did to him. And the moment Alan told them all, he noticed Detective Strom in the doorway.

Alan motioned to Detective Strom and held out his wrists, fully prepared to be detained for his crime. But the detective made no move to do so.

"Son, you didn't commit a crime. It was either you or him and he was trying to kill you. You are faultless in this. Self-defense is not a crime." Jeff said as he spoke to his son, having noticed the detective when Alan had. He also observed Alan holding his wrists out like he was expecting to be arrested.

"But I killed a man." Alan said, shocked at not being in trouble.

"No, you killed a serial killer. Big difference there, kiddo. He was less than human, he was a monster, and you did the world a favor. Not only that, but you exacted the revenge for the families that lost someone to him. You should feel no remorse in what you did. I'd have probably done the same exact thing if I'd been in your shoes." John said, soft, dulcet tone reassuring Alan simply by talking.

"You all don't hate me for what I did though?" Alan asked, worried that his family would forever see him in a tainted light. He was only fourteen, and he's just killed somebody.

"How could you even think that? Like dad said, it was either him or you and you were right to choose you above all else. We love you, kiddo and you taking the life of someone who was trying to kill you doesn't change that, not at all. You had no choice and I mean that in all honesty. It was either kill or be killed and you chose the former, I know I speak for everyone when I say that I am so glad you fought for the right to live. I don't know what we'd have done if you hadn't."

Alan lowered his head part in shame and part embarrassment. He again took notice of Detective Strom in the doorway, and he heaved a sigh. As much as he'd like to keep talking to his brothers, it had helped to soothe his frazzled nerves; he knew he needed to talk to the Detective and get this over with. Alan doubted he'd be finding any sense of closure for a while, but he could hope that one day he could accept what he'd done. Still didn't mean he was happy or pleased with himself. If anything, thoughts like that made him feel like he was the monster that had needlessly taken a life.

~.~.~.~.~

A canine cadaver handler held the shirt that Alan had been wearing when he'd run from The Hunter. It had blood on it that Alan insisted wasn't entirely his. The teenager also insisted he'd killed the guy with a very well-placed arrow. It was a little later that afternoon and he'd started from the section of forest where Alan was discovered by the couple. They'd had a very exciting start to their honeymoon, though not exciting in a good way. Truthfully, they'd gotten the scare of their lives and the skid marks proved that much. The husband had braked hard, as evidenced by the near one-hundred-meter skid marks left on the pavement.

"Search." The handler commanded, he released the dog and away he went. The handler walked at a somewhat sedate pace behind the dog and found himself floored at the distance covered in such a short amount of time. Clearly Alan had been more than terrified to have crossed this kind of distance with an injury no less. The handler checked his watch, as well as his GPS handheld from his starting point at the highway and marveled again. Alan had crossed distance that most athletic triathletes only dreamed about.

A bark in the distance caught the attention of the handler and he carried on. He made his way through the trees and when he had made it to where the dog was, he sucked in a breath. The guy was exactly where Alan suggested he'd be and another glance at his GPS told him that Alan had crossed a long distance. Not quite as the crow flies, Alan had sprinted through trees and around a variety of obstacles, easily covering nearly eighteen miles in almost five hours after he stabbed The Hunter. It helped that Alan had been sprinting downhill the whole time. He'd been able to cross a longer distance with the advantage of a downhill slope.

"Good boy Otis." The handler said as he approached the man who remained slumped over on his knees. Honestly if it wasn't for the dog, the handler wouldn't have seen The Hunter. He blended in with his surroundings due in part to the ghillie suit he wore. He crouched down, began assessing the body and hummed. The kid killed the guy by stabbing him in the jugular. The body was stiff, and the handler picked up his radio. "Otis and I found him. Send the chopper to my coordinates, the coroner will just love to sink her claws into The Hunter."

~.~.~.~.~

Jeff sat on Alan's hospital bed, holding his son close. If he were honest, this was probably the closest they'd been in each other's personal space since Alan was nine? Ten? Alan had grown into his 'embarrassed-of-dad's-affection' phase significantly earlier than any of his brothers and he groused any time Jeff tried to hug him or kiss his temple, particularly in public settings. So, Jeff withheld any and all affection despite not wanting to lose that connection with his boy. So, it made Jeff's heart sing when Alan had held on tightly to Jeff's arm during the interview with Detective Strom and he hadn't pulled away after the detective left. In fact, Alan had gotten impossibly closer after the detective took his leave and had since fallen asleep, whilst pillowing his head on Jeff's chest.

Jeff looked down at his youngest child and marveled at how much his baby had grown. It seemed like only yesterday he was cradling Alan in his arms, standing in that hospital room, spending time with his wife and surprise newborn son. How had time passed so fast? What had their family done to deserve so much pain? First, they lost Lucy to the devastating car wreck that nearly took Alan from them as well, but then all the trouble that befell them over the years…and now this.

Alan had been fortunate that he was spared, a lot of others had not. It almost didn't seem fair that Alan, a mere child had survived. Escaping the clutches of a crazed serial killer that was hellbent on adding to his ledger of stolen souls. Jeff counted his lucky stars and then he remembered his wish on the shooting star the night they embarked on this whole disastrous camping trip.

It choked Jeff up as he recalled his wish. His desire had been what any parent wished for their children. That his boys would live, long full lives and always know the love of family. Jeff had looked at Alan under the cover of the darkness as he made his wish, wanting the moon and the stars to bestow the wonders of the world on all his youngest child's wildest desires. Smiling more to himself now, Jeff closed his eyes and pressed a long kiss on his youngest boy's forehead and pulled him just that little bit closer. Closing his eyes, Jeff reclined against the raised mattress head, and he allowed the stress, worry and fear that had wound him up to bleed away.

Meanwhile, just after Jeff fell asleep, Alan woke up with an almost inaudible gasp as he was startled awake by the rising image in his mind's eye of the look on that man…The Hunter's face. He had been smiling, a twisted version of what most would call a Cheshire Cat grin, only this one was less funny and more terrifying. He'd been smiling as he clamped a heavy, tightly gripped hand onto Alan's throat. Preventing him not only from screaming out or fleeing but also breathing.

Alan couldn't shake the memory and he wished more than anything to take back his wish he'd made on that falling star. He was tempted to wake his dad, hoping that if he spoke the wish aloud that that might break the spell of the wished upon desire. But one look at his father's relaxed face and Alan found himself feeling like a monster at the thought of waking his father who so clearly needed sleep after staying up all night and then some looking for him.

His father though seemed to sense Alan's unrest and he woke up, looking at his son and tugging him close. Jeff whispered soothingly into Alan's ear, and it did the trick, however temporarily. "We can talk more in the morning, go back to sleep. I'm here, I'll protect you."

Alan let his dad pull him impossibly closer still and Alan didn't gripe at the contact when his dad wrapped him up in a strong hug. Alan lay his head on his dad's chest, falling back on an old habit from when he'd been a baby and needing to listen to a heartbeat to go back to sleep. His grandparents had gotten him a heartbeat bear that they'd put in his crib when he was tiny and fussed all night. His grandmother had suggested that Alan perhaps had missed the sound of his mom's heartbeat that acted like a lullaby while inside the womb and had gotten that as a substitute. It worked, he quit fussing during the night and would sleep, allowing his parents and brothers to sleep rather than stay up, holding him all through the night.

Listening to his dad's calm, steady heart beating strongly in his chest eased Alan off into a more calmed version of slumber than what he was getting previously. Jeff and Alan stayed that way all night and neither of them addressed needing the comfort from each other after the weekend they'd had.