Chapter 6

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Neither Steve, nor Jesse could keep the shock and fear from showing in their paling faces.

"Sloan, I want some answers, and I want them now," the harsh voice demanded.

"If you want to know where Sam is, then you're out of luck. I would never tell someone like you anything," Steve gritted through his teeth.

"Well then, Lieutenant, it looks like you have a choice to make: your best friend or some snotty little teenager. Which is it going to be?"

Jesse's eyes grew even larger, if that were possible, before his reason overcame his fear.

"If Steve did tell you where she was, how would we know you wouldn't kill her, us, and anyone else who got in your way?" Jesse accused, keeping his back firmly planted against a peach colored wall.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to find that out for yourself, won't you?" the captor tantalized the prisoners, his menacing gun still not wavering from Steve's chest.

Still squatting near the small compartment in the floor, Steve's face showed steely resolve. His jaw was set tight; his fear for the safety of him and those around him not evident in the slightest. Steve eyed the gun-bearing killer, a sinister galre that almost penatrated the confidence the other man had, but not quite.

"I don't imagine there's any need for formalities," he spoke again, "You can call me John, since you're both going to die anyway. "

"Why are you doing this, besides the fact that you're a sick and twisted phycopath?" Steve ground out, hoping to buy more time for back-up to find him.

"Because, Detective Know-Nothing, revenge is sweet. Do you know what Smithsone did to me?! She chose that scumball over me! She turned me down, and I went away with a heavy heart. But when I returned, she was all happy with another guy, and not just any man: my best friend!! She married my best friend just to get back at me!" John bellowed.

"I am going to assume you're talking about Sam's mother... And, anyway, how do you know that she married your best friend just to get back at you?" Steve offered more rationality at a man who obviously didn't want to hear it.

"Why else would she marry my best friend?!" he growled, his gun starting to quiver, nevertheless aimed on Steve.

"Uh... Try...Oh, I don't know... Love," Jesse offered sarcastically.

John clasped his head in his large, rough hands around his head, trying in vain to fend off a terrible headache. His prisoners were ganging up on him! This was too much.

"Why are you going after Sam, then? She didn't do anything to you!" Steve saw his tactic was working wonderfully; the guy was getting nervous.

"I want to see Smithsone suffer! If I kill her daughter, it'll teach her a lesson! Then maybe I'll kill her husband, other family, and finally both of us will die gloriously together.

'Great! Not only is this guy homicidal, but he's also suicidal!' thought Steve, inwardly groaning.

"You have to let your anger go, or it will haunt you for the rest of your life," Jesse spoke up, trying to keep the utter terror he was feeling from being prominent in his voice.

"Shut up, kid! What do you know! Everyone, just shut up!! I can't take this anymore!! I'm leaving, but first I need to call a baby-sitter," John threatened, grinning evilly at the other occupants of the room.

Steve and Jesse exchanged nervous glances, not at all liking what they thought their crazy captor might do.

Mark Sloan paced nervously around his perfectly clean kitchen. Where was Steve?! He was supposed to have been home hours ago! Amanda had long-ago left, and the girls were asleep.

Trying to calm himself, Mark plopped into a well-furnished wooden chair. He decided to try Steve's cell one last time.

Sighing, he grabbed the silver cordless phone and instinctivly dialed his son's number.

After several moments, he put the phone down and sighed even deeper: where could Steve be?

After what felt like endless hours of waiting, whilst the insane maniac kept them at bay with a gun, a loud banging at the flimsy door interrupted the tense silence.

"Ah, that must be Ryan now..." John cheerfully announced, gun still staring at Steve, threatening to put a bullet in him at a moment's notice, "Name, Password!"

"Open up, Johnny, it's Ryan. And I don't know no fool password!" an animated voice sounded from the hallway.

"Come on in, then, Ryano!"

Not bothering to fool with the lock or doorknob, Ryan kicked the door in with a mighty blow and stormed in. He towered over all three of them; his muscle made even Steve look wimpy.

"Don't call me that," he warned.

"What do you want me to do?" Ryan asked, his dull brown eyes showing his lack of enthusiasm for his task.

"Look after these two idiots, while I take care of some buisness. And, you might as well have fun with them before you finish them off," John hinted, an omnious twinkle appearing briefly in his dark eyes.

Ryan nodded as a small grin formed around the corners of his boyish face.

With that, John turned and sauntered out of the crowded apartment, stopping to turn and face his prisoners one last time, "Bye, guys! You won't have to put up with knowing you failed for too long!"

Steve realised that since a gun was no longer being aimed at him, it would be a great oppurtunity to carry out a plan, and decided to try and reach for his own gun.

Quickly, surreptitiously, he inched his hand towards his holster, where his gun could bring them all to safety.

Unfortunatley for Steve, Ryan saw the sly move and even faster, reached for his own handgun. In a rapid flash of silver, yet another gun was aimed at his chest.

Steve stopped his frantic attempt and looked up into his new captor's eyes, grinning sheepishly. Ryan was staring at Steve with a cold eye, but not anything like the bitterness of John's. Steve could tell he was forcing his toughness; it wasn't natural. He seemed like a scared kid, a really big scared kid. Ryan's brown hair was plastered onto his forehead and was starting to sweat.

"Don't move... or I'll... I'll shoot!" Ryan tried to threaten, but his fear of the lieutenant's blazing, grizly glare caused him to stutter. There was something about this guy he had never seen before. He was angry, but remained absolutely calm.

"Kid, you don't want to do this. That guy is a cold-blooded killer. If he thinks you know too much, he'll kill you, accomplice or not," Steve tried to talk him out of doing something stupid.

"No! He's not gonna.. kill me! I am.. not an accomplice!" Ryan tried to sound fierce, but once again, the detective caused him to be terrified. What was with this guy?! He looked like he could take out anyone or anything if he was provoked. Yet, it wasn't the hard, irrational look of someone who didn't want to die. No, this coldness had to come from the fear of something much greater, but what?

Steve's low voice snapped Ryan out of his deep thought, "You don't have to do this."

Man, this guy freaked him out! His face was so hostile, yet his words were spoken with a gentle ease. Anyone this enraged should be shouting and running, but he stayed rigid, eyes searching him sternly. The guy wasn't scared, at least not for his own life! He wasn't intimidated in the least by the gun glaring at him.

"I...uh... I have to do this! He'll kill me if I don't!" Ryan once again mentally chastised himself for his fearful demeanor.

Was this guy scared... for his friends? That had to be it, or was it? He knew how he would test Steve.

Slowly, he moved the gun to his left to aim his gun at Jesse. When the young doctor stared into the barrel of it, panic seized him, and he whimpered.

Steve watched the exchange of the gun's position, momentarily stunned by this odd turn of events. Jesse's fearful cry brought him back down to earth. If Ryan had thought his eyes were mean then, Steve's eyes blazed like white fire. His jaw turned as hard as stone, and, for the first time Ryan had seen, he looked truly terrified.

So, that was it. The guy didn't care if he died; he was rather afraid for his friends. He had never seen anything like that before. If he did shoot Jesse, Steve would probably attack him, regardless of the fact that Ryan had a loaded gun.

Not feeling the urge any longer to toy with such a powerful man's emotinons, Ryan shifted the gun back to Steve. It wouldn't do to have him reach for his own gun and shoot him there.

Ryan could have sworn that Steve actually sighed in relief when the gun aimed towards his chest. It was bizarre; a man happy to be threatened with a gun. Still, Ryan couldn't help but respect the guy.

"Wh... What'd you do that for?" Jesse spoke in a small voice, still shaken.

"You... you care about him... more than you do your own self," Ryan mumbled mostly to himself.

Steve smiled a careful grin before adding, "I guess you're not used to much of that."

"I'd have been ecstatic if my own parents cared half as much about me..." Ryan trailed off sadly, staring at his sneakers.

"I know what you mean," Jesse symphathised, sighing.

"No! No you don't!" Ryan shouted, beginning to pace around nervously, and Jesse realized that he had touched an emotional soft spot.

"Oh, yeah? All my life I wanted my parents to be proud of me. I went to medical school for four years, and a main reason for that decision was to impress her. At my graduation, she made a comment about how I should have opened up a flower shop! The thing is, my parents were never there for me, and believe me, I know, it hurts. But, violence isn't the answer; it only makes things worse," Jesse related to him confidently, sympathetically.

"My parents were always gone, getting drunk. They hardly ever spoke to me," Ryan voiced his emotional scars out loud.

"You can end this. Just give it up and I'll put a good word in for you," Steve reasoned with the troubled young man.

Before he could respond to the offer, the distinct odor of smoke filtered into the small room.

"Oh, no," Steve groaned, "Fire."

The flames spread rapidly through the old, wooden building and Steve had a very good guess as to who comitted arson. John probably wanted to easily kill all three of them, no hastle. Who would think much of a dilapidated apartment building going up in flames?

Ryan turned and fled, his only thought on escaping.

Steve and Jesse, who had more sense, ducked and carefully maneuvered towards the exit; they would never get out in time had they been crawling. The entire building could be insinerated in just a couple of minutes. Choking on the black smoke that filled the air, Steve and Jesse had well-founded doubts as to whether or not they would make it out alive.

Climactic point to leave it, I know. So, what did you think? Please review!