Michelle fidgeted in her office failing to find a comfortable spot on her chair, concentrating on her up-coming interview with District Director Hodgeson. She had a strong feeling she knew why he had decided to visit Division that day and especially why he had asked to speak to her – to suspend her until such time as Tony would be back in custody. Rather than feeling rightful indignation another emotion – worry - threatened to choke her. She wished she had Tony's strong faith and was able to pray for Divine assistance. As the minutes passed she buried her head in her hands and steeled herself to deal with a critical lecture. It used to be Tony who had been forced to listen to all kinds of criticism from Division before. Well, she was about to discover what that was like for herself. It was a relief to be summoned to enter the office.

Hodgeson rose to greet her, waving his hand at a chair. She collected her thoughts rapidly as she sat down, all her instincts warning her that her assumptions were incorrect. There had obviously been a new development. Filled with dread she raised her eyes to face him. 'We have him in custody, Agent Dessler.'

'Where is he? Is he okay? How is he coming home?' she asked trembling. 'Who has him?'

Hodgeson gave her a penetrating stare at her final question. 'I can tell you've spoken to Jack Bauer,' he observed. 'Right now I'm waiting to see how this plays out. I'd like you to stay here for the day, in case he is returned. He hasn't been cooperative during interrogation, maybe the sight of you…'

'"In case he's returned,'" she echoed. 'Who's protecting Tony, sir?'

'Jack Bauer,' he sighed. 'Agent Dessler, you are in no way a suspect in this affair. You may return to your office and continue your work. I'll be staying here for the day,' he said, using the spacious office reserved for visiting officials from District.

'Thank you sir, I'd appreciate doing my work. I'm a little behind with some reports,' she said unemotionally. She returned to her office and sighed aloud. What in the world was happening to Tony? She longed to call Jack but knew he needed to focus on his task now. Instead she picked up her phone and dialed Cedric, a man whom she had hired and asked whether he had located the interrogation room's tape yet.

'They're here, Ms Dessler,' the young IT man told her nervously, moving over to her computer. She gave him a hurried nod as he pulled it up for her. 'I'll have to delete it right after, in case Mr. Hammond…'

'Of course,' she told him and clicked to open it. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched a bruised Tony sitting in front of Hammond. Ten minutes later, fists clenched, she watched Morris pull out his electrodes. Oh no, no, they didn't. "You had enough yet, Almeida? Surely you can't want this to continue?" "No, please stop. For God's sake, Brad, I didn't do it. Check my intel, I was looking…" "Continue." She placed a hand over her mouth as her stomach gave a violent lurch.

Sunlight filtered through a tiny window high up in the cell woke Tony. He stirred, attempting to put his arms down to push himself up, shocked to find them cuffed behind his back. He rolled over and slid off the hard bed he had eventually collapsed onto, remembering the previous night's events. He had fallen asleep on his mattress and Pedro had called the police and they had captured him. Tony ran the word "arrest" over his tongue, but it hadn't exactly happened that way. They had come at night, dragging him outside without warning, holding him without having informed any of his relatives of his whereabouts.

You failed, Almeida! Of all the things you considered, Pedro's betrayal was not one of them. Now they'll take you back and Hammond will start questioning you again and if you survive it they'll put you in prison till they hang you, coz no one in the world would believe your innocence after this! He groaned in despair, cursing himself for his stupidity. Focus, Almeida. You slipped up badly, but you're not back in the US yet. You've got to get out of here somehow, and immediately.

Tony stood up and leaned against a wall, surveying his surroundings. He had attempted to estimate its size the night before in the total darkness. A part of his brain congratulated himself on his skills, noting that he had indeed estimated correctly. The cell was tiny, five foot by eight, containing nothing beyond the narrow cot he had slept on and a dirty yellow bucket. The stench emanating from its general direction was enough to make him gag and he turned away, stumbling over to the window. It was much too small for him to crawl through, even if he could somehow remove the bars. The only other option was the door, which he examined with interest. It was locked securely, moving a quarter of an inch when he leaned against it. Kneeling down, he pressed his eye to the keyhole, seeing the corridor he had been dragged through the night before. It was short and dim with steel doors leading off it at regular intervals. A door made entirely of bars stood at the end of it and beyond that lay the reception area. Tony attempted to move a little, struggling to see how many people there were, but there was no way for him to do so. Sighing heavily he returned to the bed, sitting on it.

A few minutes later he heard the steel door being unlocked and two police appeared. One placed a tray in his slot and left without a word. 'Hey, take the cuffs off, I need my hands,' Tony protested, his mouth to the keyhole.

They walked away and he sank onto his bed in despair. His breakfast sat on the tray and he was unable to get to it. Less than a minute later the footsteps returned. Tony got up as his door was unlocked, facing four armed men and the same captain who had supervised his arrest the previous evening. 'Turn round and face the wall, Almeida. I'm going to take your handcuffs off while you eat. You'd better not try anything at all.'

Tony remained silent, standing motionless with his freed wrists clasped behind his back. 'Ok, you may eat. I'll be back later.' He sipped a cup of coffee and ate a few pieces of fruit and toast with cheese, wondering whether he was given such a good breakfast because he was an American. Once he finished he returned his tray to the slot and sat back on the bed, planning his escape. Footsteps distracted him, he found himself watching the door.

'Open that door.'

'Sí Señor.'

'What's the condition of the prisoner? Is he healthy?'

'Sí Señor. We didn't lay a hand on him, I swear. You may check,' the police captain insisted. From his worried tone Tony gathered he was about to receive an important visitor.

'I intend to. Antonio Almeida is wanted by the Americans, not us. He has not committed any crimes here. Open the door.'

The door opened and Tony rose, coming face to face with Miguel Alvarez - his counterpart in Mexican Intelligence. He chewed his lip, remembering their previous meeting in LA, after a dull party thrown at Division. 'You wanna leave?' he'd inquired, hoping to hear an affirmative answer, for the man was his responsibility for the duration of his visit. 'Sí, I do. That man with the eyes of a frozen fish is killing the atmosphere!' He had been forced to rub his face vigorously, hiding his mouth. 'He's one of my bosses, Brad Hammond. Should I drop you back at your hotel?' Miguel had shrugged, glancing at his watch. 'It's a little early. I've never been to LA before. Tell me some entertaining places to visit and I'll go.' Tony nodded and went in search of Michelle. 'Sweetheart, I've had about as much as I can take of this "party." What say we take Miguel out a coupla hours?'

Miguel waved a hand at the door and it closed silently behind him. He stared at Tony for a few seconds in complete silence, his eyes hard. 'Sit,' he ordered, pointing to the bed. Tony sat down and placed his hands in his lap, fixing his gaze on the opposite wall. Sooner or later he would hear exactly what he was wanted for from the confused man in front of him. 'Ok, start talking! I want to hear it all, before the Americans arrive.'

Tony chewed his lip, his gaze sliding to the floor. 'I mean right now, Tony. They'll be here within the hour. My boss saw fit to inform them of your presence earlier this morning.'

Tony nodded, knowing he would have acted the same way had Miguel been a hunted fugitive in LA. 'Ok, I'll tell you what I can, right? It's a matter of national security, it goes no further.' He raised his eyes to meet Miguel's, who nodded. 'A coupla months ago a ship was attacked in the port in Kuwait, and my research helped capture the men responsible, those who were there, that is. There was one more working in the States, I was searching for him. Turns out he sold all kinds of other intel I never knew about. I had to do some hacking….' He got up restlessly, pacing the room.

'Did you get a name?' Miguel demanded.

'No, I never got a chance. I narrowed the list down to two guys and then I was arrested at home and dragged over to Division and charged with being that mole. That's what they told you, right?'

Miguel remained silent for a while, frowning at the window. 'Sí, you're right. You're wanted for selling secrets to just about the whole world.'

Tony swallowed. He leaned against the wall, resting his head against the cold stone. 'And you believe them?'

His counterpart shook his head, his lips pursed together. 'You're also armed and dangerous, you took a hostage. Want to explain that away too, Tony?'

Tony closed his eyes. His actions had indeed been deplorable, being enough to earn him a prison sentence by themselves. Neither man spoke, the silence broken by the sounds of a few noisy men being dragged down the corridor. Eventually he spoke, aware Miguel deserved an explanation after the pressure his own government must have put on him. 'Yeah, I took a hostage. They refused to listen to me, they pushed me real hard and I had nothing further to tell them. Dammit Miguel, I couldn't see myself locked away again. I grabbed Hammond and had him drive me over to some distant beach, where I left him cuffed at the bottom of some rocks, but I swear I didn't lay a hand on him!'

Miguel turned away, an incredulous look on his face. 'You took fish eyes hostage and dumped him on a beach!' He burst out laughing, wiping a few tears from his eyes, before he sobered. 'Oh shit, Tony, they'll lock you up and throw away the key!'

Tony nodded. 'I know. They'll only find it when they come to hang me.'

'Sí no one will have any doubt that you are the mole. They'll only start to figure it out when other things get passed on, but for you it might be too late. I knew I should not come and question you,' Miguel said with a groan.

'Listen Miguel, I don't expect you to believe me just like that, without any evidence. But there's one guy who's looking for me, to help me, I trust him with my life. He's an American agent, his name is Jack Bauer.' He gazed at Miguel, hoping to see some response to the name.

'Ah, Jack Bauer, I've certainly heard of him! What do you want me to do?'

'I'd need you to call him and tell him where I am. Please Miguel, I need to know what my prospects are. It's just a phone call,' Tony begged.

Miguel nodded and reached for his phone. 'Tell me the number.' Presently he held up a finger, frowning at the impatient Tony. 'It's ringing. Wait a bit, ok. Ah, Jack Bauer. Good morning. I'm Miguel Alvarez, anti terrorist unit. I got Almeida in custody.' He listened for a while without comment, while Tony struggled to contain his impatience and grab the phone. 'Ok, I'll pass it to him and go deal with that. I hope I won't end up in your country on death row, in a cell between the pair of you!' He placed a hand over the phone. 'Tony, I need to go outside for a while. I'm going to unshackle your feet, but you'll have to stay here.' Tony nodded, waiting while his feet were freed and he was left alone in the cell.

'Jack?' he asked, holding the phone in his moist hands. 'What's going on? They're convinced I'm the mole, right?' He swallowed, praying it wasn't so.

'Tony, I'm on my way, I'll be there in an hour and a half. Miguel's gonna try and delay your departure as long as he can, and he'll track you if he can't. I need you to sit tight.'

' "Sit tight?"' Tony echoed. 'You know, I don't have a lot of choice right now, Jack! Don't tell me you're coming to drag me home and hand me over to Hammond!'

'Would you listen for a minute, Tony!' Jack snapped, irritation plain in his voice. 'I haven't slept for the past two days, I'm driving down some highway in the middle of nowhere, I've spoken to some of your extremely hostile relatives, and I've got Hammond on my back. Now let me tell you what's going on, ok?'

'Sure,' Tony answered, getting up and pacing the room restlessly. 'I'm going home to fry.' He rolled his eyes at the phone. 'Ok, it's your turn to talk. Isn't that right, Jack?'

'Drop the attitude,' Jack snapped, his tone reminiscent of the early days when Tony had worked for him at CTU. Tony rubbed his face and settled on the bed, pulling the blanket round his shoulders. His initial shock was over and the chill of the perpetually dim cell was getting to him. 'You calmed down now?'

'Yeah,' he replied, glancing at the locked door. American agents would enter soon and place him in cuffs again. His heart ached.

'Ok, you're in the middle of some serious stuff, Tony. Hodgeson over at District is aware he's got a mole and its not you, but he can't discover the man either, he's covered his tracks too well. He's ordered every department over there to find you and bring you back and he's watching, to see which one is the mole, coz he won't want to return you alive!'

'Great,' Tony muttered under his breath.

Jack ignored the interruption. 'They've put a price on your head, half a million dollars and they knew someone would find that kinda money irresistible. Anyway, are you listening, Tony?'

'Half a million dollars,' Tony whispered incredulously. 'I never guessed I was worth anything like that!'

'Not you, the mole's arrest. Now Hodgeson doesn't want the mole to kill you and dump your body, he wants the mole caught, so he's ordered Hammond to locate you and set up agents to see who'll get to you from District, only no one's been able to find you so far. Now Tony, you can't tell anyone what I just told you, right?'

'Sure,' he agreed. 'What do you want me to do?' A chill ran down his spine as his option of escaping at the first possible opportunity disappeared. 'You want me to wait for the agents and go with them?'

Jack sighed. 'I know it's asking a lot, especially as they'll try to kill you on the way, but yeah, Tony.' He fell silent, hating what he'd asked the other man to do. 'I'll join you as soon as I can. Tony, its imperative you find out the name of the man who sent the agents, you can run after that. Whatever you do, don't let them put you on a plane. If all else fails, you'll have to escape from them.'

'It's ok, Jack,' he said slowly, rubbing his face. 'We got a mole, and I'll draw him out. I'm ok with that.'

'You're a good guy, Tony,' Jack said softly. 'Hang in there, I'll be there soon.'

'I'll be fine,' Tony insisted, his mind churning. 'Jack, tell me something, alright. When this is over, presuming I'm still alive, will they let me walk?' He scratched his face uneasily. 'Or will they prosecute me and put me in prison for the hacking and for Hammond?'

'They'll let you go, Tony. You won't face any charges,' Jack promised.

Loud voices broke his concentration. 'Hold on,' Tony said, and moved over to the door, peering through the keyhole. A dozen armed agents stood before the barred door, arguing with Miguel. 'They're here already. I see around twelve guys, but no one I know. I got to go.'

'Good luck, Tony,' Jack said, hanging up and driving as fast as the road would allow.

Tony hid the phone under the blanket, aware he would be searched the moment they entered his cell and returned to the door, his eye to the keyhole. His heart beat rapidly, but he found a deep peace he always experienced before combat. Right now the priority was the uncovering of the mole and he would give his life to do so, if necessary.

'No, you may not have access to the prisoner alone. This is Mexico, I cannot permit that. I will have to accompany you,' Miguel insisted. 'You'll have to agree to that, or you don't get to go in.' He stood his ground and the leader of the group finally acquiesced. The steel door was unlocked and Tony rushed back to the other side of the cell, having no desire to be caught staring. He leaned against the wall in the corner and folded his arms, his eyes on the door.

Six men entered his cell, their leader remaining beside the door, his gun trained on Tony, the rest unarmed. Miguel frowned and turned to him outraged. 'Holster that weapon. I won't have a prisoner shot in custody over here.'

'Mr. Alvarez, this is our operation. No one will blame you or your country. Now we have orders to prepare Almeida for his return to LA, we have no desire to kill him.' He turned to the agents. 'I want Almeida searched.'

Two men grabbed Tony by his arms, dragging him out of the corner. 'Take your hands off me,' he muttered, shaking his arms. 'I can undress myself!' Without waiting for further comments he pulled off the faded green t-shirt and laid it on the bed, followed by the torn undershirt. Miguel watched in sympathy as he removed his threadbare jeans and pants, standing before them naked. The leader of the agents ordered his clothes to be searched and they examined every thread while he stood on the cold tiles, trying to stop shivering.

'Alright, search him,' the leader ordered, and Tony was surrounded and pushed further into the center of the cell. 'Don't even think of moving, Almeida,' he ordered, which Tony refused to acknowledge. The search was identical to the ones carried out regularly in prison, every unpleasant aspect familiar to him. Only Miguel's presence disturbed him as he was ordered to rise, face burning with humiliation. He noticed his counterpart's eyes on the floor, sharing his embarrassment. 'Now then Almeida, I'll permit you to wear this trash,' he said, nodding his head at the clothes. 'Enjoy them, for you'll be changing to prison blue real soon!'

'A minute, Señor Andrews,' Miguel said, his eyes flickering to his watch. 'You cannot think of moving the prisoner in this condition. Under Mexican law no person held in custody is permitted to be transported until he has been given a shower and generally tidied up. All prisoners merit a little dignity.'

Agent Andrews gave an irritated sigh. 'And you Mexicans are real keen to uphold that law, right? No, don't bother to answer. Where's your bathroom?'

'Right at the end of the corridor,' Miguel told him and Tony noticed his sudden unease. Of course, he's never been here! He has no idea what condition the bathroom is in, but it's probably not gonna be too good! You're a real decent guy, Miguel, trying to keep me here till Jack arrives.

'Get moving, Almeida,' Andrews ordered, motioning towards the door with his rifle. 'Hands behind your back.' Two agents grabbed his arms; the rest surrounded him as he was marched three doors further along the corridor and halted before the last door. A Mexican policeman unlocked it and they stepped inside, switching on the light.

It was almost completely dark inside before the neon light flickered on. Tony found himself on bare concrete, a shower directly in front of him with a broken head and a rough bench on the other side of the door. A cracked mirror hung on the wall opposite the bench, swinging from a nail in the draught. Miguel pulled an impassive face, nodding his head towards the shower. 'It's broken, you'll have to put a finger inside to direct the drops,' he said. He gave Tony a long look and he nodded, turning on the only tap, drenched with ice cold water.

His heart beat rapidly while he forced himself to take several deep breaths, shaking from the cold. I appreciate what you're doing, Miguel, but this is real hard to take. You'll have to think of something else, I can't stay here for half an hour!

He bore the cold as long as he could, watching the agents from District standing round the room. Teeth pressed together to prevent them from chattering he put a foot out, withdrawing it as he saw Miguel's frown. 'You're going to need to wash your hair,' Miguel said, turning to an agent. 'Go and ask the man at the desk for some shampoo. As per regulations,' he stated unemotionally to the increasingly impatient Agent Andrews. The agent disappeared and Tony risked leaving the cold water for a minute, arms pressed tight against his ribs, shivering from head to toe. Presently the door opened again and the agent returned with a bottle, and he was forced back inside, wishing Jack would hurry.

'Alright, that's enough, Almeida,' Andrews snapped, his patience at an end. 'Get out and get dressed, that's an order! You've delayed us long enough!'

Tony left the shower gratefully, glancing round for his towel. Miguel handed him one and he rubbed himself dry, pulling on his clothes as slowly as he dared. 'I had a sweater,' he explained to Miguel, sitting on the bench to pull on his sandals. 'It was left in Pedro Rosales's house. Do you think someone brought it?'

'I'll check,' Miguel told him and spoke into the radio. 'You're lucky Tony; they brought all your stuff over. A policeman will bring it in a sec. Now sit on that bench and wait a bit.'

'What the hell are we waiting for now?' demanded Andrews, glaring openly at Miguel. 'The sun to go nova? I've got orders to transport this prisoner home.'

'And you shall sir, as soon as he's ready to go,' Miguel said, turning as a policeman entered. 'Shave the prisoner, Mario.' He turned back to Andrews. 'I won't have a foreign prisoner returned home in that state,' he explained, nodding his head at Tony's face. 'Next day it would be all over your newspapers – prisoners denied rights in Mexico! You'll just have to bear with me a little longer.'

Andrews kicked the wall in silent fury. 'Alright, Alvarez, have the prisoner shaved if you must, but we're leaving directly after it's over! Almeida, hands behind your back. You don't imagine you're getting a razor, do you!' He cuffed Tony to the bottom of the bench, leaning against the damp concrete.

Miguel left the room, returning moments before the policeman finished. He shook his head slightly. Tony was released and ordered to wash his face in the small sink. He glanced at himself in the mirror, surprised to find himself so tidy after three weeks. 'Your sweater,' Miguel explained and he pulled it on, reveling in the warmth.

'Alright Almeida, lets go,' Andrews ordered, grabbing the cuffs.