Gentle hands woke him in the early afternoon running along his face, tracing the shape of his bruise. 'Are you awake Tony? Will you play with me?' pleaded a young voice and he felt a smile tug the corner of his lips.

'I will. Where's your mother?' An extra sharp twinge caused him to pause leaving him leaning on his elbow. 'Ow,' he breathed.

Footsteps approached the bed and Clarissa pushed him back onto the ancient mattress. 'Keep still.'

He nodded, allowing her to pull his shirt up and examine the wound while he watched her face to gauge her emotions. She looked horrified as she ran her fingers round the injury and he was unable to keep a hiss of pain in. His lack of bravery wasn't questioned by his less than critical audience. Tears filled Clarissa's eyes which she angrily blinked away and Blanca settled beside him. 'Does it hurt very much, Tony?'

'Sí,' he told her truthfully. 'I'll get some more painkillers.' Once again he attempted to sit, pushed back before he could move more than a few inches.

'You'll stay right here, Tony. How many have you taken today?'

His brow wrinkled in his effort to remember. 'Six last night and three now.' It sounded slightly excessive to him as he spoke and she shook her head.

'That's too much. It's getting infected, that's why it's hurting you so much. I'll get you some clean water to wash it with.'

'Wait,' he begged, taking her hand. 'I need to see it. Can you find anything around here?'

In the end it was Blanca who brought him a piece of dolls house furniture with a mirror that enabled him to examine his wound. The skin round the cut was indeed puffy and swollen with a streak heading downwards. His heart rate increased as he moved towards the kitchen and found an old knife.

'Tony, what are you doing?' Clarissa cried, horrified.

'This can't be left querida,' he told her. 'Take Blanca out for a bit and I'll take care of it.'

'How can you see what you're doing?' she asked, shaking her head. 'That knife is real old too, it might not be clean.'

'I can't light a fire and sterilize it,' he told her, wishing to get his unpleasant task done with before his fear got the better of him.

Clarissa ordered Blanca outside till she was called and the child collected her few pieces of furniture and dolls and went to play on the porch. 'I'll hold the mirror for you,' she offered.

Tony glanced at her white face and shook his head. 'No, I can manage. You go out for a bit.'

She followed him back to the bed. 'I won't. I'll help you.' Her voice shook a little as she took the toy mirror. 'Tony…'

He put a finger to her lips. 'It won't take long,' he assured her, lying on his stomach and taking the knife. 'It doesn't have to be real deep, just enough to get the pus out. Turn the mirror a little more…' He lowered the knife above the pus and took a deep breath before drawing it rapidly along the area and the streak. Had he been alone he would've cursed aloud but he restrained himself as he heard her gasp and saw the mirror shaking. 'Ow ow,' he gasped, feeling the toy landing on his legs as she seized his arm.

'Oh Tony…' Hot tears wetted his shoulder as he attempted to grin at her.

'I'm fine. I just got to push the pus out now…'

'I'll do that,' she assured him. 'Tony, it'll hurt.'

He nodded grimly. 'I know.' He bit his tongue to avoid screaming as she took a clean handkerchief and squeezed the wound. She handed it to him wordless when she finished and he noted how full it was. 'Quite a bit,' he said lightly, knowing he would've given way to tears had he been alone.

Clarissa cried enough for both of them, washing the wound with clean water. 'I'll go back to the house and get some band aids,' she said, kissing his forehead. 'Don't even think of moving, Tony. You're to lie right here, do you understand?' She gave him a tear filled smile and he returned it, hope surging through him that his morning's activities were forgiven.

'Sí, senora,' he promised, earning him a tap on his leg.

Blanca returned while she was away, carrying the three toy figures from the house. 'That's a mama, a papa and a little girl. That's me,' she said, handing him the baby.

'You're much cuter, though,' he told her cheerfully. 'Is that mama?' he questioned, taking the mother doll. She nodded. 'And that's your papa,' he said, lifting the father.

He was surprised by the swift shake of her head. 'He was bad. This man is nice, he's smiling. It's you Tony.'

Tony attempted to smile at her as he examined the plastic doll. 'Is it? But my hair is a lot darker than that.'

Clarissa returned while they played house and ordered all the toys to be packed away. She carried a large saucepan and a box of band aids. 'I brought our dinner over, Tony. I don't think you'll be well enough to walk that far tonight. I'll just put these on.' He waited patiently while she stuck half the contents of the box onto him. 'Ok, I'll help you over to the table.'

He allowed her to help him over to the meals area reveling in her attention. They ate together and played with the child before Clarissa put her to bed. 'She's asleep, Tony. I wanted to talk to you about something real important before, but now I don't know whether I want to.' She looked at him sadly. 'I never thought of you as a kind of smuggler,' she sighed, leaning against him. 'I thought of you more as a soldier, and I was right, hm?' He nodded silently. 'How could you work with him, Tony? Everything he does is against us…'

Tony ran his hand through her hair, resolved to make things right between them. 'Querida, I'm no smuggler, and I'm not on his side in any of this. You gotta trust me.'

'But you pointed your gun at those poor people,' she muttered.

'Sí, I had to point it that way, but it doesn't mean I had to shoot that way. You think I'd ever hurt an innocent?' The words were out before he could withdraw them and she leaned forward, searching his face.

'What are you saying, Tony? Would you shoot Christianson? That would be murder; they'd search for you and hang you…'

He pulled her closer, her heart racing against his own. 'No, there's only one reason I'd ever shoot anyone here, and that's if they laid a finger on you.' They sat together in silence, her fingers stroking his hair until he shifted slightly and winced.

'You're in pain, Tony. We should lie down now,' she suggested and he nodded, allowing her to help him up. He lay on his stomach listening to her breathing until he felt sure she was asleep before he rolled carefully off the bed and reached for his cell.

'Hey Jack,' he said softly as it was still early enough for potential movement.

'Tony, did you get to Mexico? How did it go?' Jack inquired, obviously in the middle of eating his dinner.

'We went over to Mexico alright and that bastard got not one but two loads of people. Listen Jack, border patrol's tactics are starting to work, they're under pressure. There's one problem though.'

'I'm listening,' Jack told him more clearly, obviously having swallowed his mouthful.

'We left one load in Mexico locked inside some metal shed. It happened early last night and they've been there all day, and Christianson hasn't even told me when we're going back yet. I estimate they had around half a bottle of drinking water between them and no food. You got to call the Mexican police and let them out…'

'Tony, wait a sec,' Jack began, his tone thoughtful. 'That might not be the best play. From what you told me they're not in any immediate danger for another day or so. Give Christianson a little time to return, we can't risk your cover blown.'

'Jack, there were a coupla kids!' Tony snapped outraged. 'How long you planning on leaving them there?'

'Another day,' Jack said. 'If he doesn't return anytime tomorrow I'll get Mexican Intelligence to release them. They'll be okay until then.'

'Where are you Tony? Is your back hurting you? Is that a real phone?' called a small voice.

'Tony, who the hell's that?' Jack snapped, shocked.

'No one,' Tony replied rapidly. 'Just a little kid. You won't leave the group longer than a day, will you?'

'I won't. They'll be okay, trust me.'

'I sure hope so,' Tony muttered darkly. 'The place didn't even have any windows!' He hung up dissatisfied with his failure to get assistance for the group and uncertain if Jack's insistence on waiting was advisable or unnecessary. There was no chance of him settling down to sleep now, that was certain. He took Blanca's hand and tilted her chin up. 'I was calling a friend of mine, princess. I'm a little lonely. Listen, how about we keep my phone a secret, ok?'

'Ok,' she agreed, slipping her hand tighter into his. He led her back to bed and settled down himself, waiting till she fell asleep before hiding his cell.

To his dismay Christianson appeared busy with paperwork the following day and he was sent back to work outdoors. He spent the day picking oranges - filling baskets with them until he would carry them back to the truck and tip them into wooden crates. His back protested but didn't throb and he survived the day with a few painkillers. Are we going to collect the aliens tonight, Christianson? You're surely not planning on leaving them there another day?

Despite Clarissa having made tacos for the three of them he found it hard to eat, his mind on the stranded passengers. She must have noted his mood for she cast him several concerned glances. 'What's wrong, Tony?' she questioned eventually.

He attempted to smile at her but seethed inside, unable to resist questioning Christianson as he returned for dinner. 'We going over for those people tonight, sir?' he inquired nonchalantly.

The smuggler glared at him. 'We'll go when I say so and not before. It's not safe tonight.' He left Tony unenlightened as to what was wrong with that particular night, telling him to get some sleep as he had a long day ahead of him, the oranges needing picking.

Tony took the phone once the hut was silent and called CTU, determined to hold Jack to his word to rescue the aliens. To his dismay he was put through to Ryan Chappelle instead. 'Tony, good to hear from you,' he began in his nasally voice. 'What have you got to tell us?'

'It was a quiet day sir,' Tony told him hesitantly. 'Is Jack around?'

'No, Bauer's away on a case for the following two days. It's imperative that you avoid calling him. I'm dealing with CTU in his absence. Is there anything further?'

Tony drew a deep breath. 'Yes sir, there is. I went over to Mexico two nights ago and we left a load of aliens locked inside a metal shed. Jack said he'd call Mexican intelligence about them if we didn't go back for them tonight. We're not going back, sir. As far as I'm aware we're not planning to return tomorrow either. They're gonna need to be rescued. They've already been there two days.'

Chappelle's breath was clearly audible down the line. 'Tony, you're not seeing the wider picture,' he said, each word grating on his nerves. 'We're in the middle of a real detailed investigation and I cannot afford anything to jeopardize it. They can sit tight another day.'

'With all due respect, sir, I disagree,' Tony protested. 'There were a coupla young kids in the group. They might not survive tomorrow in that shed with no food or water. It's bound to get hot as hell inside…'

'Thank you Tony, I can well imagine,' Chappelle interrupted. 'They'll be fine. Goodnight.'

'Sir, wait a minute. Are you saying you'll get them out tomorrow night if we fail to go get them?' Tony demanded, his nervousness at speaking to Chappelle forgotten due to his anxiety.

'Possibly. Just keep your eyes peeled and let us know the moment any kind of group will gather.' Chappelle hung up leaving him staring at his cell.

'Dammit! Why won't you listen to me? How the hell do you know they'll be alright another day?' He paused, running the words through his head. Are you even going to pull them out if we don't get them tomorrow?

He spent the night tossing and turning, waking Clarissa who studied him in silence. 'What's wrong Tony? What happened on your trip?' Once again he reassured her but she obviously failed to believe him.

Sweat poured from him the following day as he picked the remaining oranges, the sun burning him through his t-shirt. He shuddered whenever he thought of the group in the tin shed, resolved to speak firmly to Chappelle that night. He ate dinner with Clarissa and Blanca in the kitchen wearily and forced himself to drink several glasses of water aware he must be dehydrated. If he was, how much more so were they?

'Sir, what do I do tomorrow?' Tony asked, knocking politely on the smuggler's office. Please tell me we're going over to Mexico tomorrow.

'You do some more work tomorrow, Almeida. On Thursday we're heading into LA, I'll need you with me.'

'Is anyone gonna get those people we left in the shed?' he asked.

Christianson stared at him. 'What concern is that of yours, Almeida? No, they're staying another day or so, it's not safe to attempt to cross yet. They'll be fine.'

'Sir, the young children might not be,' Tony told him as calmly as he could.

'Those kids are unimportant. Don't worry too much; the adults usually give them a little more water. Are all the oranges picked?'

'Yes sir,' Tony replied, his fists clenched behind him.

'Good work. Get some sleep; I'll need you to pick mandarins tomorrow!'

Tony left the office fuming. Bastard's more concerned about his oranges than the life of those people! He returned to the hut by himself pleading exhaustion and grabbed his cell, determined to speak to Chappelle while Clarissa tidied up after dinner.

Chappelle proved unmovable once again. 'Almeida, I've already explained the delicacy of this mission. If I call Mexican Intelligence to rescue those people it'll alert the smugglers and we've blown our entire operation. I'm certain he'll return for them as soon as possible, he does profit from them from what you've told us.'

'Sir, those kids will die and so will any of the adults that might not be completely healthy,' Tony snapped. 'I don't see how it would affect our mission if they got rescued. Mexican Intelligence does occasionally stumble across…'

'Have you finished?' Chappelle asked icily. 'Settle down at once, Almeida. I just gave you my decision. I'm aware of the problem. Your job is to follow Christianson and alert us to his movements, that's all. Forget everything else, that's an order!'

'Sir, I've been in a similar position once in Arabia. We were captured by some militants and locked in a similar shed and abandoned. We got rescued in three days and some of us were pretty close to death by then and we were all trained Marines. These people…'

'That's quite enough, Almeida,' Chappelle hissed. 'I'm going to give you a single warning. You will follow your orders and forget everything else. Have I made myself absolutely clear?'

'Yes sir.' Tony had to force each syllable out in his rage. Chappelle hung up and he sank onto the dry grass, his eyes on the setting sun. Memories of the worst experience in his life flooded him, from being handed an impossible task to being captured and interrogated, beaten soundly for his refusal to divulge any of his orders and locked inside a shed with his men. "We'll let you out when your lieutenant decides to talk," one of their captors informed them as they sat together on the concrete floor. "When you get thirsty, just tell him. Lieutenant Almeida, knock on the door when you're ready to talk or you'll watch all your men die." What he wouldn't have given for a drink as he lay on the floor beside his men, all distinctions abandoned as they had removed their uniforms. He had noticed their unspoken pleading by the third day, deeply moved that none of them placed any blame on him. "Sir, the sergeant is dying," one of his men informed him and he attempted to rise, distressed that his worst fears were being realized. His sergeant was indeed close to death and a few of his men were not far behind. "Hang in there, Koskinen, I'll get us out of here." The man had shaken his head but he'd ignored him, banging on the door. "I'm ready to talk now, you bastards! Give my men water!" They had been handed a bottle of water each and he ordered them to swallow it slowly, drinking his own before he was hauled out. The questioning had begun in earnest, revolving around his orders to hunt down the group and the amount of information the Americans had about them. He sat on a cold stone floor and told them the story desperation helped him concoct; aware he would be murdered by the evening as they discovered it to be untrue. He was dragged back into the shed and the door slammed on him as they began checking his information and his men stared at him in disgust. "They're gonna find out I told them shit real soon," he said softly, unwilling to be murdered without their support. "You guys should be rescued real soon. They haven't stopped looking for us." He had whispered a prayer aloud in Spanish as the door was unlocked that evening and his name was called. He'd ordered his men to remain seated and stumbled to the door, living through the worst beating he'd ever experienced. They were rescued as he screamed out yet another fabrication…

Tony's fists were clenched so tight his nails drew blood as he stared at the setting sun. Making a decision he reached for the cell and dialed the number he had committed to memory at the start of the mission, calling Mexican Intelligence to beg them to release the group. He managed to pull himself together long enough to return the phone to its hiding place before rushing outside. You've just lost your job, Almeida. He hung his head, twirling a piece of dry grass in his fingers. You might even end up in jail if Chappelle decides to prosecute you. This mission better not be affected by your actions!