Disclaimer: Don't own the movie Collateral. Just borrowing for a while. I'll put everything back neatly when I'm done.

Hunters

Ray Fanning was beginning to wonder what he was doing.

He had the time. Six weeks was only the start of his leave. He could take another six, if he wanted. Injured in the line of duty, and with his reputation. The department was willing to give him enough rope.

And he was going to hang himself with it.

What in the hell had he been thinking? How had that woman talked him into this? He replayed their conversation in that restaurant a million times in his head, and he couldn't pinpoint the moment when he'd given in.

"I'm not much of an artist," she had started, having identified herself as Claudia, "but, that night that you were shot, did you happen to see this man?"

She held up a rough pencil sketch. It was the nose that clicked with him, aquiline and high. He was good with faces. "Not at the club," he said, taking the picture, staring at it, waiting for the image to complete itself in his head. Gray suit, sunglasses, hair that looked nearly platinum blond in the harsh fluorescent lighting. "In the elevator, at the hospital." He blinked. "Max was in there too, behind me. God...I didn't remember that before."

Claudia nodded. Her hair was as straight as he'd ever seen on a woman, falling down across her shoulders like a white silk sheet. She was constantly pushing it back over her shoulder. He wondered why she didn't tie it back, or braid it. Probably would have ruined the look. "So you did see him. If you saw him in person, would you recognize him?"

"Most likely," Fanning replied.

"Good. Would you like to help me catch him?"

Fanning looked at her as if she were crazy. "I'm sorry, who do you work for again?"

"Pedrosa," she said, her voice lowered. It had been what had made him come with her before. The familiarity. She was connected to the Feds, she had the smell of an undercover agent on her, someone buried so deep, raising her head even this high was a threat. She didn't carry credentials, but she had access to information that could only have come from a source as connected as the C.I.A. "You want to call him?" she offered. "On your cel? Make sure?"

He shook his head, although he made a mental note to do it later. "So what do you want with me?"

That was when she smiled. It was a tight, knowing smile, as she reached into the bag she had with her and pulled out a police file. She set it on the table and he picked it up, began to rummage through it. As he did, his eyes widened.

"You were associated with a Victoria Potter when you were in the illegal trafficking division," she said. "You had something to do with her arrest?"

"We had to drop the charges," he said softly. "Not enough evidence. But I always had the feeling she'd been used."

Claudia nodded. "She was. You see, Potter, formerly a doctor, lost her medical license when she went up against the wrong people on a sexual molestation charge. She sort of disappeared into the woodwork after that. You were one of the few people who put her on the radar since that time. Did you get to know her at all?"

Fanning swallowed. "I...uh...well..." It wasn't like him to fluster, he shook himself, spitting it out. "A few weeks after it was over, so as not to get involved with a suspect, I asked her out."

"And?"

"We dated a bit. She wasn't really interested in me, though."

"Why not?"

Fanning looked at her, meeting those ice-blue eyes. "What is this, twenty questions?"

Claudia didn't even blink. "Detective Fanning, Victoria Potter has gone missing. There was an illegal office being run south of Alhambra about three weeks ago. Four dead bodies, all of them taken out by the same shooter who killed Sylvester Clark and your contact Ramone, along with every other witness killed that night, who was involved with a major indictment to be started the following day. The office was hers."

She let the silence sit, let him take it in. Fanning leaned back in his seat, his fingers on the various papers in the file - photographs of the bodies, personal items found at the scene, things linking it definitively to Victoria. "So you're saying that Victoria is somehow involved in all of this?"

"More than involved, Detective," Claudia sighed. She sipped at the water the waitress had been so obliged to leave at their table. "I was on an assignment to protect a patient of hers, Marcus Shakespeare."

"I heard about that," Fanning said, "about his murder, anyway."

Claudia flinched, her annoyance showing through for only a second. Then she calmed. "Victoria Potter was there. That night. With Vincent."

"So," Fanning said slowly, "you're saying she's involved with him."

"She's not just involved," Claudia said. "She's an accomplice."

Fanning laughed, pushing the file away. "You're full of shit," he muttered.

"Am I?"

"Yeah. Victoria was the victim of unfortunate circumstance. She didn't think through her actions before she did them and it cost her a lot, but it happens. She's not a criminal."

"She's been illegally practicing medicine for the last half-dozen years, and she's not a criminal?"

"Well," Fanning said, "you don't know Victoria. She's tenacious."

"So I gathered," Claudia said, brushing her nose, which had just recently lost a bandage - he could tell by the marks it had left on her skin.

"Besides, there wasn't anything else for her to do. She treated criminals, but she wasn't involved in their activities. I figured that out quick."

Claudia shook her head, her hand slapping over the file as she drew it back to her. "Well, Detective, whatever her past may be, she is officially a missing person. And I suspect she's still with Vincent."

He narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that?"

"Where do you think I get all my information from?" she asked. "Newsweek? Star Magazine? I have more connections than just those in your superiors' offices. I've been tracking Vincent for about a week now. I think I know where he is, and I think Victoria is with him. And I don't say things like that to practical strangers lightly."

"So then where do you think he is?" Fanning challenged. "I mean, since you've been so open with me, tell me."

She hesitated. "Somewhere in Mexico."

He almost laughed. "Somewhere," he echoed, "You know, Mexico is a pretty big place."

She nodded. "It'll be easier once I get there."

"So you're going to Mexico." Fanning did smile this time, almost ready to get up and leave. "So what do you want with me, Claudia?"

She held his eyes for a moment, making him drop the smile. "I want your help, Detective."

"My help?"

"Sure. You know what Vincent looks like, you're familiar with him, possibly more than any other agent I could contact. You have lots of connections in Mexico-"

Fanning started. "Hey, now wait-"

"I wasn't judging," she said calmly. "I was just stating a fact. And I know that you don't like to leave cases hanging open. You could be a big hero, or you could just be a good cop. Either way, you don't have much to lose."

"I don't have any..." he faltered. "I can't go to Mexico. My job, my authority is all here."

"I can take care of that," Claudia said with a slow, cat-like smile.

"Can you?"

"Yes." She waited for a moment, in case he had any other objections. "At the very least, Detective...don't you want to make sure your friend Victoria is okay?"

"You don't seem to think she's in any danger," Fanning said, uncomfortable.

"Yeah, but you do, and I've been wrong before. Besides, I know Vincent. There isn't a such thing as being safe around him."

"You trying to scare me?"

"No. I'm just stating the facts."

"You seem to like to do that."

"Hm." She smiled at him, respecting him. She probably met few enough people who could stand against her, toe to toe. "So what do you say, Detective? You can take an extended leave, you can come with me, and you can come back a big hero."

"Or a good cop."

"Either way."

"Or I could lose my job and get arrested for vigilante activity."

Claudia shrugged. "I suppose. I guess, then, it isn't worth the risk to you. You can spend the rest of your life in peace with the fact that a man who tried to kill you in cold blood is living happy and free with a woman you had some pretty strong feelings about."

"What do you know about that?" Fanning snapped, irritated that she would make such a statement about Victoria.

"Come on, Detective," Claudia said with a knowing look. "You're a cop. You ask you a former suspect? You know what kind of trouble you could have gotten into. You obviously thought she was worth the risk."

Fanning drew a slow breath. "Yeah. I guess I did." There was a heavy silence as he weighed it all up in his head. "All right," he had said quietly. "I'm in."

That was nearly six weeks ago. The hunt hadn't been an easy one. There were constant twists and turns, people covering, people lying, people dying. He'd knocked on every door he knew, talked to every single person he could manage, and only now, now, did they have a single lead that looked promising.

Promising in a way the others hadn't, at least. They'd had leads before. Always dead ends, abandoned houses, wrong criminals. They'd been shot at a dozen times, their car had been stolen twice that, but Claudia was Miss Resourceful. Fanning didn't like to think about the things she did to stay above the water.

This lead was different. A few days ago a woman in a small marketplace, out of the way from the mainstream, had recognized a picture of Victoria. She didn't know where the woman came from or where she was going, but she'd been here. Problem was, they couldn't just sit around and wait for her. Claudia picked up quickly that it was a tightly knit community, and that strangers never went unnoticed. So they had to pretend to leave, and then go camping in the jungle in full guerilla warfare gear.

Those were two days he wished he could forget. But they paid off.

The mornings were busy as soon as the sun cracked the sky. The long siesta during this time of the year took a lot of time out of the afternoon, so business had to be conducted as early as possible. A hummer pulled up, driven by a man who looked as ordinary as the rest of them. But a woman got out of the passenger side.

Her hair had been lightened by the climate. She wore a sleeveless shirt and a sarong of some type tied tightly around her waist. Calf-length khakis protected her legs underneath, and high boots did the rest. Military style, but much more classy. She smelled like money, even from their distance.

Claudia had climbed up some tree, Fanning didn't know where. His place was the ground, hers the sky. She seemed to be able to swing from branch to branch like a damn monkey. He hoped she was getting a better ID than he was.

The woman turned. Her eyes were covered with sunglasses, but there was something familiar about her. Other than the fact that she was one of maybe four white women they saw around here. Blonds, redheads - no surprises there, as anybody who needed cover and whoever they wanted to bring along was welcome for the right price.

Fanning narrowed his eyes. There was something familiar about the shape of those sunglasses. Narrow frames, only two black ovals protecting her eyes. She lifted them up, pushed them onto her head.

It was Victoria.

She had changed a bit. She had always had a decent figure, but there was a distinct swell to her breasts and curve to her hips that hadn't been there before.

Fanning swallowed. Holy shit, it couldn't be...

A seed plunked down onto his head. Fanning looked directly up. There was a flicker of light between the trees. Could have been natural, but it happened three times, calculated.

Claudia had seen and ID'd her. That was Victoria Potter.

Victoria didn't feel right. Normally, she would blame it on Vincent being a bit too rough, but he'd been in a mellow mood the night before - it lingered on into the morning, the way his arm was still snaked around her. When Vincent did sleep, it wasn't very hard. She felt him idly playing with the strings of her pajama drawers.

She couldn't help but smile. Vincent happy was a rare enough occasion, and she'd had a front row seat for nearly two months now. She could only ponder how odd it was for him to be experiencing it. And then, there were the quiet little fears that nipped and tugged at her, telling her that getting what you wanted was usually worse than ever wanting it to begin with.

He'd talked about leaving Mexico, talked about her getting her license back. She'd done what he'd asked, talked to the right people, given them information, whatever they wanted, trusting him, knowing Vincent would never run the risk of exposing them. But so far, nothing had happened. Vincent hadn't even mentioned moving again.

She hesitated to move. Not just out of the country, but out of the bed, at the moment. She gingerly felt her breasts, wondering if the ache was still there. A simple squeeze had made her flinch, and it wasn't so different now. Plus there was an odd nausea that had been plaguing her for the last few weeks, but she had a strong stomach and rarely gave into it. Vincent warned her to be more careful about drinking the water.

She was a doctor. Her medical mind knew what the signs meant. She'd eaten a whole bunch of those nearly-rotten bananas the other day without blinking, and then followed it with several slices of Vincent's hand-cut salami he'd special ordered. He dismissed it, not upset with her, although irritated that there weren't any bananas for his cereal the next morning. And he didn't like the smell of his breath after he'd eaten too much of that salami anyway.

She shut her eyes, letting out her breath in a slow stream. This couldn't be. Vincent would be so angry. They'd had this conversation before, about kids.

I can't be a father, he always said quietly. I just can't. No more discussion from there. Not that she was anxious to be a baby-making machine, but no one could shag like they did and expect nothing to happen.

Carefully, she lifted up her head. Her hand went to Vincent's at her waist and she pushed it away as she sat up. He let her go, and she scampered over to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she turned on the lights.

She was not going to throw up.

She ran cold water, waiting for a few minutes for it to really cool down. She pressed it against her cheeks, went to the bathroom, did everything she could think of to settle her stomach. Finally she went into the kitchen and found her stash of Pepto. It seemed to work. When she came back to bed, Vincent had turned away, and she sat down, wondering what she should do. Should she say something now? No, better to delay the inevitable. She had to go into the market. Someone had to be selling pregnancy tests. How in the hell else did a woman know if she was pregnant in this corner of Mexico? As far as she knew, she was the only real doctor around, and she wasn't going to one of those corner-quacks-

She stopped. Once upon a time she'd been a corner-quack. Maybe she still was. She lay down, slipping her feet back under the blanket. Her toes touched Vincent's, and he started to scoot backward, closer to her. His legs wound through hers, holding her in place. Affectionately. She couldn't help but smile. Touching him was still a thrill. She wondered when it would wear off.

Then he turned, looking at her over his shoulder. He was smiling. "Good morning," he said.

"Morning," she smiled back. He shifted so he was half-way on his back.

"What's up? Other than last night's dinner."

"No, it's fine," she said. "Pepto helped."

His smile flickered. It was the same flicker she'd seen a dozen times, when something was bother him. Something he really didn't want to think about. A twitch in the corner of his mouth, subtle, but she never missed it. She reached out, moving her legs up to wrap around his waist.

"Something up with you?" she whispered, almost wishing he would just ask her and take the pressure off.

He chuckled. "Maybe. But if you're not feeling well..."

She slid an arm across his chest, kissing his shoulder. He had tattoos, faded after long years of neglect. Military years, he'd said. Sometimes he would talk about those years. Mostly he wouldn't.

He closed his eyes under the caress of her lips, and they both lay in the quiet morning. She'd become an early riser, knowing that the heat of the day always afforded another chance to rest. Her mind, though, was working. What could she tell him? Whenever she went into the market, he usually liked to know what for. He would ask. She had to tell him something.

"I was thinking of going and seeing if there are any more bananas," she said quietly.

He opened his eyes. "You still craving them?"

She shrugged. "I was a bit selfish. Don't you want any?"

"Doesn't matter to me." He paused. "Maybe there's some other fruit that's come in."

"Want me to go see?"

"Why don't we go together?"

On the rare occasion that Vincent went there with her, it was usually to check out other kinds of black market items. He would be distracted. She might be able to slip it past him.

"Depends on you," she whispered. "You up for that?"

He chuckled. "I'm really going to be glad when we go to New Orleans," he said. "There's a lot more life there. I don't have to be such a recluse."

Her ears perked up. "You're serious about that?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"You just hadn't mentioned anything about it in so long."

"Well..." he paused. "I was waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

Another pause. This one longer. Finally, he rolled over to face her, propped up on his elbow. "Some business," he said shortly, then kissed her hand, which had fallen from its place across his chest. "Why don't you go into the marketplace early, Victoria? When you get back we can have some lunch."

"By myself?"

"Yeah." He kissed her hand again. "I forgot, there are a few things I have to take care of."

She knew that was the signal that he didn't want to talk about it anymore. She nodded, then pulled herself up onto her elbows.

"Then I'd better get dressed."

Then he was pulling her down again, his arms around her waist, holding her close. His chin rested lightly on her stomach, and he was smiling wickedly up at her.

"You sure you don't feel well?" he asked playfully. She couldn't help but laugh at him when he was like this. Moody, but without the extreme swings. He was softening, getting like this more and more often. Even if his libido was slowing down a bit, he was much more tender. She closed her eyes as he began to kiss her stomach, pushing up the thin nightshirt that she wore.

"Vince..." she moaned.

One hand reached up, cradling her breast. Then, he pressed. Just a little too much. A sharp pain jolted through her, and she let out a little yelp. He immediately stopped.

"You okay?" he asked, alarmed.

"Fine," she said, resisting the urge to rub the swollen body part. "I guess I really don't feel that good."

"Maybe you shouldn't go to the market, then," he said, sitting up as she climbed out of the bed.

"No, no, a walk would do me good. Get some fresh air." She tossed him a smile, went to the closet, pulled out some random clothes. "It's no big. I'll go early, be back early, we can have brunch."

"I'll make omelets, then," he said as she disappeared into the bathroom once again.

A/N: Sorry, no replies today. All my energy is being sapped by stress. Updates may not come on a daily basis starting tomorrow, but I will be sure to update regularly. Feel free to nag, it does keep me on my toes.