A/N: And I'm back!

I didn't get the story finished, as I'd hoped, but I'm almost there! (I was also working on one of my "Enterprise" fics, plus I had about half a dozen books to page through -Princess Diaries: Princess in Pink is a good read, for any fans of the series.)For your reading pleasure, I present chapter 14. Chapter 15 - tentatively titled "Over" - will be posted tomorrow, to give me time to finish chapter 16, which I hope to have doneand up by Monday at the latest. After chapter 16 there will be one more chapter and perhaps a short epilogue, and then the story is, sadly, concluded. (However, I do have plans to do a follow-up - probably after a short break from writing.)

Hopefully, this chapter will appease those of you who commented that Danny and Molly should have talked about what happened. Just so you know, I had that chapter written a few different ways, and kind of liked it the way that it was. But I understand why people would want that, andI had no intentions of ignoring what happened or letting it drop - it would just come up later.

I know nothing about the FBI or the CIA.Nor have I ever been in a hostage situation. I just write.

I heart you guys and your continued reviews! The response to this story gives me warm fuzzies every time I check my email and see that someone else has posted! I hope this doesn't disappoint and that it was worth the wait!

P.S. What was up with last night's episode? My mom and I were so confused.

38 Hours Missing

By the time Jack arrived at the address Danny had given Martin, there were already at least a dozen agents wandering around. According to their jackets, they were CIA, and Jack figured that Molly must have called her superiors around the same time that Danny had, for the added insurance, even though – as a missing persons case – it fell under FBI jurisdiction.

But the additional agents meant one thing for certain – Jack wouldn't be able to kill Danny in front of all those witnesses.

And kill him he would, because Danny had finally lost it.

Jack walked over to the nearest agent, flashed his badge, and asked to speak to the guy in charge. The agent directed him to Special Agent David Markum, who was currently using the hood of a car as a desk and scanning a set of blueprints – presumably of the church. He looked up when Jack approached.

"Special Agent Malone?" David asked, holding out his hand for Jack to shake. "I'm Special Agent Markum. I know this case is FBI jurisdiction, missing persons and all, but I had to bring in some of my people. Can't afford to lose Agent Sheehan."

Jack raised his eyebrows. He knew, of course, that Molly was CIA, but the way David was talking, it sounded like she was the one who'd been kidnapped. "You know something that I don't, Agent Markum?"

David sighed and nodded. "Molly called in earlier this morning, asking to do a trace on her phone. She told us there might be a possible hostage situation, and unfortunately, she's one of the hostages."

Jack's stomach dropped to his knees. He had a very bad feeling about this. "And the other hostages?"

"Only one other," David said, arching an eyebrow. "And that's where you come in."

39 Hours Missing

When Danny came to, he was tied to a chair, his head felt like the percussion section of the Boston Philharmonic, and there was light filtering through the grungy stained glass windows of Saint Bartholomew's. He shook his head in an effort to clear the cobwebs and immediately regretted doing so, because the orchestra swelled and added a timpani solo. He closed his eyes against the pain but colored dots flashed repeatedly behind his lids, and he was positive that he was going to vomit.

He was unpleasantly reminded of his sophomore year of college.

His first coherent thought not about the pain in his head or puking was about Molly. Where was she? What had happened to her? He remembered walking into the sanctuary, following her, and then nothing. If anything had happened to her, he would never forgive himself. Yes, he said that he'd blame her, but he had only been joking, and he should have tried harder to keep her out of this building. He could have used force. He was bigger than her, after all. He slowly turned his head to look around and saw her not five feet from him, also bound to a chair. She was awake, straining against the ropes that held her, he assumed, testing their strength. She seemed unharmed.

"Molly?" he asked, unable to believe his own eyes, needing to hear her voice in order to confirm that, yes, she was okay. She glanced at him, and the pained look on her face dissolved instantly into a relieved smile.

"Oh, thank God," she said. "I was beginning to think she'd killed you." She scooted her chair a few inches towards him. "You were out for so long, and I couldn't see you breathing but I was obviously just paranoid, because you're awake now and obviously you're breathing – "

"I'm okay," he said, which was a flat-out lie. Tied to a chair was generally not considered "okay", but he had to say something to her. And he wished more than anything that he could hold her, because she looked as though she was about to burst into tears. "I'm okay."

That's when he saw that she had been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks were tearstained, and she looked so thoroughly miserable that Danny's heart broke just at the sight of her. She looked down at her lap, then up at the ceiling, and sighed. "God, this was a mistake."

If Danny's heart hadn't already been broken, that would have done it. Was she saying what it sounded like she was saying? They hadn't gotten a chance to talk after…afterwards, and there was so much he wanted to say to her – how they had so much in common that it was uncanny, how he'd never felt about anyone the way he felt about her – but if she was regretting what had happened between them, he wasn't about to open his big fat mouth and insert his foot into it, because he wasn't sure his heart could take much more damage.

Call him a masochist, but he had to know. "What was a mistake?"

She shot him an odd look, as though the answer should have been obvious. "Coming in here without backup. What did you think I meant?"

He didn't say anything, but he thought his heart might burst from pure joy. He wasn't sure how much more he could stand before it gave up completely and he just keeled over.

She must have seen the look on his face, because she said, "Did you think I…? No, no, of course not. I would never…" She trailed off with yet another heavy sigh and attempted to scoot closer but gave up after a futile effort. "Look, this probably isn't the best time to talk about this, but I might not get this opportunity again and I…" She trailed off again, shaking her head. "There's something about you, Agent Taylor." She laughed nervously, but it was still the most beautiful sound in the world. "I don't know what it is, but I know a good thing when I see one." She met his gaze, and the look that had been in her eyes at the hotel was back with friends. "I don't intend to let it go, and as soon as this whole mess is over, I say we find the nearest bed and not get out of it for at least a week."

Danny's mouth went dry just at the thought. She'd painted a pretty enticing picture. He'd certainly have time on his hands, as he was most likely fired – but he chose not to say that. He smiled. "You got a deal." He managed to move closer by hopping in his chair, and he refused to break eye contact, because he didn't want to not be looking at those beautiful green eyes. "And you can call me Danny, you know."

She grinned. "Ah, but it's so much more fun to call you Agent Taylor." They shared a profound moment of silence before Molly resumed her struggle against her restraints. "Can you get your hands free at all? I've been trying for damn near an hour and all I got is rope burn. And not the good kind."

Trying not to think of what the "good kind" of rope burn might mean, Danny tested the ropes around his wrists, but whoever had attacked them seemed to know what they were doing, because the knots held tight. And then something Molly had said earlier came back to him. "Wait, did you see who attacked us?"

Molly ran her tongue along the edge of her upper teeth and didn't quite meet his eye. "Not exactly."

He looked up at her. He'd been in enough interrogations to know prevaricating when he heard it. "What do you mean, 'not exactly'?"

There was a noise behind him, but he wasn't able to turn around to see. The best he could do was pivot at his waist and look out the corner of his eye. And in his peripheral vision he saw a young woman walking towards them. She was tall and blonde and vaguely familiar.

"What she means," the woman said, and her voice was cold and cruel, "is that she already knew it was me."

Sam was scared. She hated hostage situations – they always turned out badly – and though she was slightly pacified by the knowledge that she ran little risk of being shot this time, it was still upsetting to know that Danny could very well be in mortal danger, and they were stuck on the other side of a flimsy barrier of yellow police tape.

Jack had explained the situation to them as soon as they'd arrived – Sam and Martin were late because they'd gone to pick up Vivian, who had not seemed thrilled at the idea of being awakened after so little sleep, but had sobered immediately after learning that Danny was being held hostage in the remains of a Catholic church. They still had no idea who was holding Danny and Molly hostage, but as there was no sign of anyone else, they had probably been lured into a trap with the promise of setting Kate free.

Sam blamed Molly for their predicament. Though she knew nothing of how they had ended up as hostages, it surely had something to do with her, because she had probably thrown caution to the wind and run blindly after her roommate with no thought for the consequences. And as a result, she had not only wound up in danger but dragged Danny there as well. And now something very bad could be happening to Danny, and there was nothing Sam could do about it. And she couldn't stand the thought of standing idly by while something happened to one of her closest – hell, one of her only – friends.

The situation had done one positive thing, though. It made her realize that her fight with Martin was ridiculous, that she cared for him very deeply – maybe even loved him – and that if she waited much longer to let people know they were together, she might lose him forever. It was quite obvious to her now, as it should have been long before, that life didn't last forever, and she should take advantage of the happiness that she felt now before it was too late.

The woman stopped beside Danny's chair and he finally got a good look at her. He recognized her instantly from the multitude of pictures he had seen of her earlier that day, though she looked completely different sober, and a part of him didn't want to believe what he was seeing.

"Kate?" he asked. A glance at Molly confirmed his suspicions – she looked ready to spit nails – and his head started spinning again. "But how – "

"How'd she know it was me?" Kate asked, walking over to Molly's chair. She placed one foot on the seat, right by Molly's left knee, and pushed the chair several feet away, back to Molly's original position. "That's a good question, actually. I'd kind of like to know the answer to that myself." She crouched in front of Molly, bracing her hands on either side of Molly's legs. "When did you figure it out? Before or after I called?"

Danny had never seen green eyes look so cold, but Molly's stare was one of steel. He half expected daggers to come flying out of her eyes. "You sound like you should be on Mission: Impossible," said Molly, in a voice to match her glare. "Why the hell are you doing this?"

Kate's laugh was entirely without mirth. "I asked you first."

Molly gritted her teeth so hard that Danny heard it from several feet away. "I suspected," Molly said through her clenched teeth, "but I didn't know for certain until I found out where you calling from."

"Should have known," Kate said. She stood up and walked over to Danny, and he found himself unable to look away. "Did she tell you what happened to this place?" she asked him, gesturing with one hand at the ruins around them.

He bit the inside of his cheek in an effort not to spit in Kate's face. "There was a fire."

Kate laughed again, and Danny was pleased to see that she wasn't armed, because a psycho with a gun was never a good combination. But she would have access to weapons, because he and Molly both had their weapons when they entered, and obviously they didn't have them now. "Did she tell you how the fire started?"

"Kate," said Molly, and though her voice was still cold, Danny could detect the trace hint of fear belying all the anger, "why are you doing this?"

"Shut up," Kate said – though snarled would have been a more accurate term. She drew back and smacked Molly across the face, then turned back to Danny. He immediately began to struggle against his ropes again. "She did it. She's the one that burned this place down. But I bet she didn't tell you that."