Wow - okay well thankee muchly for all the reviews on chapter 13 guys! Sadly, though, it doesn't finish in this chapter. Maybe next chapter. If Ayres doesn't decide to do anything else really dumb. Ah well. Maybe our psychos will learn one day, although I doubt it!

GoddessofSnark - yay! Don't think I've ever won a competition before! How many broken shoelaces do I get? Mm sanctimonious - lovely word. wants season five REALLY bad...

On that note - excuse all these 'old' fics - ie ones where they're still on speaking terms. They'll get season fiveish around February, IF our disgustingly behind channel seven decides they want to press a little button and make so many Aussie fans happy. sigh

Oh and sorry for the gigantic delay in this - but you know how it is...school calls...

Question though - on our profiles, how do you write a bio? Coz I've noticed some of you have them, but I can't for the life of me figure out how you do it. Rightio - on with the show!

Chapter 14: Justice

The doorbell rang and four heads snapped up. Ayres stood.

"Remember this, boys," he said warningly, patting his pocket. And walking out, locking the door behind him. Jordan frowned, staring after him.

"Remember what?"

Garret and Woody exchanged a glance. "The explosive," Garret said. Jordan shook her head.

"What explosive?"

Woody looked at her. "He said he had one wired to you."

Jordan shook her head, frowning.

Garret stood impatiently. "He played us," he said in a low voice. "Son of a bitch."

Woody also stood. "You sure there is nothing?" he asked her. She nodded.

"Positive."

Woody looked wildly around, gaze resting on the door. "Reckon it's kickable?" he asked wryly. The other two could help but smile at the look on his face. He turned and slammed his foot into the door, but it was in vain. The stubborn thing didn't move.

"Damn," he cursed, and turned. "Okay get up," he said to Jordan. "When he comes in we'll…" he paused, searching for a word.

"Wing it," Garret offered, and Woody nodded, smiling wryly.

"That too."

Jordan nodded and stood up. They waited. Woody turned to her, talking in a low voice.

"What does he mean to do to you?" he asked. "He hinted that you know."

Jordan's face closed up. "It doesn't matter. It's moot. The son of a bitch wont even get the chance."

Woody's face creased in concern. "He said you'd feel guilty."

Jordan looked up at him, noting again how tall the man was, how much she wanted to hand over control to him, how much she wanted him to protect her. She wouldn't mind falling onto the couch and closing her eyes, screwing them tightly shut and waiting for him to brush it all away. But she couldn't, so she squared her shoulders, looked him in the eyes and nodded.

"Don't."

She frowned; she had expected questions instead got advice. She searched his face but it was turned towards the door, tension making his body go rigid. She too heard it, the footsteps sounding lazily down the softly carpeted corridor.

The door flew open unexpectedly. The two doctors jumped quickly out of the way but the oak door slammed into the detective, pushing him to the floor. Ayres was quite a sight, wild stare in his eyes, gun in one hand, Chinese in the other, silhouetted against the sun streaming in from the window out in the corridor. He did not stand there for long, instead kicked the door closed behind him, rushed to the detective and pressed the barrel of the gun to his head.

"Sit down," he drawled lazily at Jordan and Garret, as if bored with the entire thing.

"No!" Woody said, staring from one to the other. They looked at him questioningly.

"Bowl him over!" he said desperately.

Ayres laughed, then looked at Jordan. "Move and I'll blow his minimal amount of brains all over you."

"Like you said Jordan," Woody said, searing stare cutting through her, slicing her open. "On coffin is better than three."

Ayres stared, watching the gaze, crackling like static electricity between them. It was a battle of will, and they were both a match. His face changed and he laughed in delight.

"Oh this is precious!" he said. "Thank you detective. Medium for more suffering! Why did I not think of it myself? You're in the wrong line of work, Hoyt!" He looked straight at Jordan. "What'll it be, Jordan? His head or everyones?"

"Don't be stupid Jordan," Woody pleaded. Garret stepped closer to her, showing his support, also not wanting her to make a stupid decision, but knowing whatever decision she made would be founded.

"I can tell you the stakes if you want," Ayres offered helpfully. "You rush me, he dies. No question, no chance. As soon as you move I pull the trigger. But, you can escape. You rush me, then he dies and falls back on me. You have a second to get away. I might even let you get away."

She stared at him. "Or?" she asked in a strangled voice.

He smiled. "Or you sit down, calmly, and say 'no'. In which case he does not die now. But then you all do." He stopped. "Well, they do."

Woody stared at her, urging her to do the sensible thing, and save herself and Garret. Hew would gladly give his life, three times over, for that. But his heart sunk, and at the same time lifted, when he saw the look in her eyes and knew what she would choose.

"Either way, this one's a lost cause," Ayres prompted. Garret was sensibly staying out of it. She knew what she was doing.

"You know what I am going to say," she whispered. She was completely torn, her mind numb. This was not supposed to happen!

Ayres nodded. "I have a fair idea, yes."

Jordan sent one last wild glance at Woody before slowly sinking down into her seat, ignoring the muffled cry that escaped the detective's mouth, and whispered "No."

The word slammed into Woody and he met Garret's eyes, before looking away. He couldn't look at anyone, couldn't connect because right now he just felt like shooting himself in the head and ending the entire thing, at least for him. But of course he did not. Ayres kicked him away and walked over to Jordan.

"I am sorry," he said, bending over and putting his mouth close to her ear. "That was unnecessary."

She stared at him. There was no guile in his face. It was as if he was…well…normal.

"Yes," she agreed, shakily, not able to drag her eyes away from his.

"Sorry," he whispered again, and shrugged.

Garret watched carefully, everyone in turn. Woody had a look of loathing on his face as he picked himself up, and stupidly brushed the dust from his clothes, shaking slightly. He saw Ayres bend over and whisper something incoherent to Jordan, and saw her face go white in turn. Garret kept his face calm. He was collected, he was in the right. Ayres stood and lowered himself into the chair opposite Jordan, Woody following suit, the lethargy the detective was displaying reminding him of Jordan when they had first arrived. It stank of brainwashing. He frowned, sent Ayres a glance and sat down stiffly, feeling as though he had lost them both all over again, somehow.

Ayres tossed them all containers, and Jordan and Woody opened them wordlessly and began to shovel (for want of a better word on Garret's part) the food into their mouths. Garret watched in horror, unable to keep the distaste out of his mouth. He watched the two exchange a glance and his heart sank. They were under the bastard's sway. He felt eyes on him and met the intrigued ones of Ayres on him.

"Not hungry?" he asked. Garret swallowed his hate.

"What are you getting from this?"

"Sustenance, nutrition and all the other good stuff you get from food."

"This whole thing, this charade?"

Ayres considered the question. "Justice," he said immediately.

"How do you figure that?" Garret didn't really care, but felt the need to keep the son of a bitch talking. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the methodical movements his companions were making as they lifted the food from the box to their mouths, chewing and swallowing, lift, chew, swallow…

"I'm sure if you think on it you'll come up with some plausible answer," Ayres said, shrugging. "What I want to know, is why you want to know why I am doing this."

Garret met his gaze steadily. "Know thy enemy," he said after a well-timed pause.

A dark look flashed over Ayres' face like a thunder clap, and left as quickly as one.

"You will never know me," he whispered. "Never."

Jordan kept her head down, watching out of the corner of this eye this interchange, but was not focussing on it. Garret met her eye momentarily and she jerked her head to the side, indicating for him to keep the bastard talking. He blinked and turned back.

Jordan put her box to one side, finished for now. Jordan watched Woody, trying to get him to look at her, but he wouldn't. She knew the look on his face, she had encountered it a few times. It meant, normally, that he would be broody and silent, normally a signal for her to grab him by the arm and drag him to one nightclub or another and coax him out of his shell. But there were no nightclubs here, and no way for her to communicate with him, other than useless glances. But even that was denied them, but he was stubbornly staring at the bottom of the container he clutched in his hand like a lifeline.

"We can't bring your daughter back, Jeremy," she said suddenly, surprising herself and him.

Ayres swallowed hard and brought his head around to meet her gaze. She had discarded her container and her hands were folded neatly in her lap as he looked at him, sympathy clearly readable on her face. Nice try, he snarled into his head.

"I don't think you understand, Jordan," he said, mocking the use of his first name. "She is dead. I can't even get revenge because I already did, that night when it hadn't sunk in. I barely even remember, yet I can't cast it from my mind."

Jordan paused, alarmed because she knew exactly what he meant.

"Will killing us help?" she asked, and Garret looked sharply at her.

Ayres narrowed his eyes. "I hope so," he said. Garret half-expected her to draw a target on herself and invite him to shoot her there and then.

She lowered her head again.

"Your daughter would not have wanted this," she tried again.

Ayres was becoming agitated. "She wouldn't have wanted to die either!" he shouted.

"Then what is your warped logic?" she asked, suddenly very angry. She was itching to jump forward and kill the man with her bare hands for what he was doing to them all. "You've got us all in here, waiting, on some stupid crusade that no one the hell understands except you!"

Garret sent her a funny look, not able to help himself, and she looked at him, surprised for one minute, then what she said registered in her mind, and she laughed.

"A psycho after my own heart," she said through her laughs.

Ayres, still stinging from the insult, jumped to his feet, enraged by the laughter. Jordan watched him scathingly. He was air, all hot air.

"It's over," he said, stepping forward and reaching for her. Like lightening, Woody, who was closest to her, shot out an arm and blocked the arm reaching for her, not even looking at him. Ayres forced a laugh from between his teeth and slammed his foot into the detectives chest, causing the chair to topple over backwards. Before she knew it, everyone was on their feet and she was pressed against Ayres, breathing in his smell, which wasn't unpleasant. She trembled against him, alarmed, numb, scared…

He grabbed her hair and turned her around. Woody had gotten to his feet. Jordan, for the second time in far to small a time frame felt the cold steel of a gun barrel against her head.

"No options this time," he said. "I guess your plane is coming sooner than we thought," he whispered into her hair, but this time everyone heard.