As always a huge thanks to anmodo for betaing this chapter. Also thanks to everyone that has reviewed.

Chapter 9

Danny squeezed the trigger, moving the gun to the left at the last possible moment. He watched as the bullet dug itself – hopefully harmlessly – in to the wall behind Victor Fitzgerald. He watched as Victor and everyone around him ducked and took cover. He then silently prayed that no one was hurt.

As he was taking a deep breath to try and slow his heart rate, he suddenly heard an explosion behind him followed by a burning sensation on his arm. Spinning around quickly, he found Diego holding a smoking gun which was still pointed in his direction. He looked down at his arm to see a thin stream of blood running down it. Danny carefully felt around the wound, and was relieved to find the bullet had only skimmed his arm.

"What the hell was that for?" Danny yelled.

"You missed. Try again," Diego growled still pointing the gun.

"It's pointless. I didn't have a clear shot of the target, and I am not about to start taking random shots," Danny lied as he tore a strip of shirt off and crudely tied it around his injured arm, his eyes never leaving Diego.

"Why the hell not?" Diego said as he continued to aim his gun at Danny. This was his chance to make AJ suffer; this was his chance to kill him. AJ had stolen Lucia from him, and he wanted Lucia back. He took another wild shot at AJ.

Danny dove to one side as Diego, took another shot at him, he winced as he saw the light shatter above him, just where he was standing a few seconds ago. "What the hell are you doing? Do you want to give our position away?" Danny yelled. "The reason why I am not going to start taking random shots is that there are innocent people out there! There are kids out there!" He rolled to one side as Diego took another shot at him. He didn't want to do this – he hated Diego – but he really didn't have a choice. As he rolled again to avoid another shot, Danny pulled a knife from a sheathe on his leg and threw it at Diego. He watched as the knife struck Diego; he watched Diego fall. He knew Diego was dead. Danny realized at the moment that he'd just become a cold-blooded killer. Danny stood up and quickly dismantled his gun.

He walked over to Diego and whispered a short prayer over his body before he pulled the knife out of Diego's throat. He took one final glance around the room, hoping he hadn't left any evidence to link him to this crime… to the crimes. He ran down the stairs towards the truck pausing briefly as he considered if he should use it or not. He had to use it; he had to get it away from the crime scene. The truck would have tons of his DNA left all over it and it would also probably be linked to the cartel, which would put Lucia at risk. So leaving it at the crime scene would be stupid.

Danny threw the bag in the trunk and quickly started the truck and drove off. He did not notice the streets he was driving down; he was so wrapped up in what he had just done. How he had just become a cold-blooded killer. Had he just sent everyone he loved to their deaths? Feeling the truck pull sharply to the right because he blew a tire, Danny silently swore and prayed that there was a spare tire in the truck. At least the truck was a good mile from the crime scene.

Getting out of the truck, he looked around with a paranoid gaze; he felt his heart rate increase as he saw the distinct black suburbans of the US federal government rush past. Cars, that ten months ago, he would have been relieved to see… but he now feared. He feared what they would bring. He feared that they would give him the treatment he now deserved. He prayed that Victor Fitzgerald was in one of those cars – unharmed. Danny shook his head as he tried to pull himself back to the job in hand. He walked around to the truck, always looking for agents of the FBI or the DEA who ten months ago, were his co-workers. But now they hunted him. As he reached down for the tire, he heard the squealing of tires around him and suddenly found himself surrounded by black sedans. Men in dark suits jumped out pointing guns at him, yelling at him to get down. Danny slowly sank to the ground with his hands behind his head.

This was it, Danny thought. He closed his eyes and tried to not to think of the team's disappointed faces looking down on him, shaking their heads. He let a single tear escape as he was pushed roughly to the ground and then pushed roughly into one of the cars. He didn't want to look at his fellow agents. He silently laughed as realised he wasn't even an FBI agent anymore. He hadn't been one for ten months. Since the day he'd faked his own death.

"You missed, AJ, I thought you were a hot-shot."

Danny breathed a sigh of relief but shivered at the same time. The FBI or DEA hadn't caught up with him yet, but he was in the hands of the psycho CIA agent, Michael Clarke. "I missed calculated the wind speed." Danny lied, praying that everyone that had become targets because of him were still safe… still alive.

Michael Clarke leaned forward. "Well you can say goodbye to your life now," Michael said laughing.

Danny felt his body tense up with fear, before everything went black.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Danny slowly opened his eyes and adjusted to his new surroundings. He was on a plane… if he wasn't mistaken, it was the same one that he had travelled down to Colombia on. Travelled down, sounded like he was on a vacation and the last ten months had been anything but a vacation. Lucia had made his life bearable, Lucia had saved him and he had abandoned her and her young child. Danny looked to the front of the cabin to see Michael Clarke discussing something he couldn't quite hear, something to do with 'dumping the package' and 'no trace'. Danny closed his eyes again, he really didn't want to know what Michael and his cronies were discussing… what lives they were destroying. He heard Michael's shoeless footsteps approach him across the soft carpeted cabin. He tried to pretend to still be unconscious, but a sharp kick to his chest told him otherwise.

"Wake up!" Michael growled.

Danny slowly opened his eyes again, and looked up at Michael. "What the hell do you want? Thinking about destroying my life again?" Danny said sarcastically.

"And why would I want to do that, Tony?" Michael replied smiling at Danny's confused expression. "Oh…sorry. I forgot to tell you. Your new name is Anthony 'Tony' Gastillo, and here is your new life," Michael finished as he threw a file at Danny. "Even though you screwed up this assignment, we still have faith you can be used in another undercover operation."

"You bastard," Danny whispered. "You can't expect me to start a fresh again," he said as he slowly pushed himself up using the walls of the plane.

"I don't expect. I order you," Michael growled.

"You know, you're the first person I really wouldn't mind killing," Danny said as he glared at Michael. "And now I have the training. That's right, Michael. This little op you sent me on has trained me to black ops level," Danny finished as this time he was the one laughing. "I could kill the people you love and no one would know who did it."

"That's nice for you Tony. But I have the ace up my sleeve. I don't care for anyone. If you make any form of contact with your former team, your family, your girlfriend, her son… I will kill them," Michael replied as he allowed himself a grin as he watched Danny's shoulder slump in defeat.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Michael sadistically dumped Danny in New York while he awaited a signal to start the new operation with his new identity. A city that once felt so familiar… felt like home, now felt alien to him. The streets he once drove down at high speeds to catch a suspect, he now walked down in the shadows. Always looking around hoping not to see anyone from the team or his family… but secretly praying he would see them. He knew he couldn't contact them, but he could watch them. Danny shook his head, watching them sounded disturbing… sounded like the man he had killed. But that was all he could do… that would be as close as contact as he would have with them. He didn't have a passport and had no means of getting one. He had no means of getting to Lucia and Chris… unless he would do it illegally. He was already a fugitive. How dangerous could it be to skip across the border?

Seeing a police car, Danny ducked in to a narrow alleyway and felt the cold, damp walls close in on him. He adjusted the small backpack – which contained the small amount of his possessions – and carried on looking for a run down motel. A run down motel that wouldn't eat away at the few crumpled dollars he had in his pocket…a motel that wouldn't ask questions. He walked out of the alleyway, barely noticing the rain that had begun to fall. At the end of the street, he spied a flickering neon 'motel' sign. Underneath it, read 'vacancies'. Decay had eaten away at the sign, like it had with the rest of this area…like it was eating away at his life.

Once he had rented the room, he collapsed on the small, thin, unkempt bed, allowing himself a few moments before he prepared the room… an action that he would have to repeat for the rest of his life. He looked up at the stained ceiling, mesmerized by the patterns of dirt on it. Danny slowly sat up and looked around the small room, which judging by the peeling wallpaper probably hadn't been redecorated since the building had been constructed. He got up and started to move the limited, decaying furniture around the room. He positioned it in such away that wherever he was in the room he could always see who had entered. Just in case he ever had to make a quick escape. He would stay here a night before moving on. He would never be some where, more than a couple of nights before he moved on. Never spending long enough for people to recognise or remember him.

Danny felt a sharp pain across his stomach and realised that he hadn't eaten in two days. Pausing he looked around the room, once he was satisfied he crept out of the room pausing only briefly to place a hair between the door and the door frame, so that he would know if anyone had entered while he was out. He moved stealthily down the dusty, poorly lit corridors. Even though they were abandoned, he wasn't taking any chances. He shivered slightly as he stepped out into the rain and felt the rain run down his back. Sticking his hands into his pockets, he moved quickly into the shadows and towards the neon sign informing him that they sold food. In this neighbourhood, at this hour, they would have a disinterested check out girl who would have forgotten him as quickly as she had seen him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack pulled his coat closer to his body as he felt the chill of the icy east wind whip around him. He was just tying up a couple of loose ends from their most recent case, but in all honestly he was taking his time. He didn't want to go to back to his desk… to the applicant files that wanted to replace Danny. He hadn't come any closer to finding a replacement and doubted he would anytime soon.

Glancing across the street, he noticed a tall, athletic, Hispanic man walk out of a convenience store. He looked like Danny, but he and the rest of the team were seeing Danny everywhere. The city held many memories of Danny for all of them. But something made Jack looked at the man again. Something about the way the man strolled down the sidewalk made Jack's heart skip a beat. But it couldn't be, Jack though, Danny was murdered ten months ago. Jack suddenly felt compelled to follow the man. From a distance, he watched the man enter a run down motel. Waiting a couple of minutes, he quickly crossed the street and entered the motel. He coughed slightly as his senses were overwhelmed by a musty damp smell, the smell of years of decay. He approached the clerk at the front desk. "That man that just entered. I have a business meeting with him. Which room is he staying in?" Jack asked quickly so as not to draw attention.

"He said that he didn't want to be disturbed," the clerk replied nervously.

Jack leaned across the desk and flashed his badge. "I have a business meeting with him. Which room is he in?" Jack asked again with an imposing glare.

"N-number 225," the clerk stammered as he handed over the rusty key.

"Thank you," Jack replied, as he took the key from the clerk's shaking hands and started to walk down the corridor.

Danny re-entered the motel with a small amount of supplies. As he walked down the corridor to his room, he reached up and unscrewed one of the bulbs, crushing it his jacket. As he walked towards his room, he began to scatter the shards of glass, finishing them as he reached his room. He scanned the door, noticing the hair remained intact. Drawing his gun he quickly entered his room, clearing it. He drew the curtains and shut off the light, and sank down in the corner of the room. He needed to think of his next move… he needed to think of how he could remain undetected… how he keep the danger away from the people he loved… how he would live his new life.

The sound of crunching glass and a key being inserted into the lock pulled him out of his thoughts. He drew his gun and quickly moved across the room.

Jack walked down the dusty, dark corridors. He suddenly heard the crunching of glass and drew out his flashlight and looked down. He frowned as he saw shards of glass scattered down the corridor. He followed the trail to find out that it roughly ended outside room 225, his destination. He paused briefly before trying the lock. It opened surprising easily so he stepped inside.

He felt the ice cold steel of a gun on his temple. He slowly moved his hand towards his own gun but thought better of it as he felt increased pressure on his temple.

"My name is Jack Malone of the FBI. I am just going to reach down into my pocket and show you my ID. Okay?" he told the gunman.

Danny felt his hand shake slightly as he realised whose head he was holding a gun to. He may have changed over the last ten months. He may now be a killer, but he hadn't changed that much. He wasn't about to kill his former boss, his former friend. He felt nauseous when he realized that he was still holding a gun at Jack's head. Lowering the gun, he quickly moved across the room.

Jack felt the gun leave his temple but still remained on edge. He cautiously called out into the darken room. "Is it ok if I turn on the light?" he asked and was surprised to hear a soft voice respond. Acknowledging the voice's reply, he slowly flicked on the light. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the light, he slowly scanned the room. As he scanned the room, he observed how the furniture had been positioned. His eyes finally came to rest on the figure in the far corner of the room. "Danny?" he asked not believing his eyes.

Danny looked up at Jack. The man looked like he had aged ten years since he had last seen him. Danny felt ashamed for what he had done, at what he was still doing. He didn't know how Jack could look at him after what he had done to them, especially after just holding a gun to his head.

"Jack I am so sorry. I am sorry for… I am sorry for I've done. And about the gun, and I…I just didn't know who it was," Danny replied in a frantic, panicked tone.

Jack looked at Danny as he tried to put the pieces together. The glass outside the room, the darkened room, the furniture – who or what was his agent running from? "Its okay, Danny," Jack responded in a soothing tone as he tried to reassure him. He felt like he was calming a frightened child by the wounded, scared look in Danny's eyes. "It's partly my fault. I shouldn't have sneaked up on you like that."

Danny looked at Jack in disbelief – how the hell could have it been Jack's fault? He was the one that had damn near put a bullet through Jack's brain. But that's who he was now. He was a killer – a cold-blooded, ruthless killer.

"Jack, how can it possibly be your fault? I was the one holding the gun," Danny exclaimed.

"Yes you were. But as you explained you didn't know who it was and as soon as I identified myself you put the gun down. You're going to be okay, Danny," Jack reassured again as he watched Danny cross the room and pick up a backpack. He noticed Danny's gun. It wasn't the standard issue Sig Sauer of an FBI agent and what was more concerning was that the gun had a silencer attached to it making it look like a an assassin's weapon. He continued to watch Danny as he slid the gun into his waistband and pulled his jacket over it. "Danny where are you going?" he asked. Jack was certain that Danny was in some kind of shock or an altered state. He had a vacant look in his eyes that made Jack's heart break.

"Away," Danny replied tonelessly as he tried to occupy himself with packing his small amount of possessions. He wanted to stay in New York but knew he couldn't anymore. He wanted to work on Jack's team again, but knew he couldn't. And now Jack was standing there questioning him, it made it harder still. But for their own safety, he had to keep moving. This is my life now, Danny thought, always on the run.

"Where's away?" Jack asked, blocking Danny's path. Jack looked at Danny, he never remembered Danny being this tall. It was as if Danny had grown another 4 inches since he had last seen him.

Danny stopped. "Jack, please I have to go. It's for your own safety," Danny said as he almost pleaded with him.

Jack stepped aside as he saw the desperation in his agent's… sorry his former agent's eyes. The same questions came back… who or what was Danny running from? Who or what was Danny protecting them from? And what had happened to this poor young man in the last ten months to make him look so lost? "What am I going to tell them, Danny?"

Danny stopped in his tracks and felt a lump grow in his throat, 'them', the people he had left behind. The people he loved. The people he wanted to go to on his hands and knees and beg for forgiveness. "Jack you have to forget about this. You can't tell them anything. I'm dead to them and to you and it has to remain that way. You have to forget you ever saw me," Danny said as he blinked back tears. This was undoubtedly the hardest thing he had ever had to do. With that, he turned and started to walk away.

"Danny", Jack called out. "Danny, what do you mean, 'forget I ever saw you'? You're not dead. I can't pretend that you are dead. Danny, talk to me," he said as he continued he call after the retreating figure. He started to chase after Danny out into the pouring rain. "Danny." He said again as he grabbed Danny's arm and spun him around. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Danny hardly felt the rain as it began to soak into his light jacket. He felt someone grab his arm and reached for his knife on instinct – then he remembered it was Jack. He looked at Jack's confusion-filled eyes and tried to concentrate on the possible threats that surrounded them, but it was near impossible. "I'm sorry, but it has to be this way. I…I can't explain." He turned to walk away again.

Jack looked at Danny's retreating form again and knew he had to try another tactic. He didn't wanted to use this method, but he had no other choice since pleading was making Danny stay. He didn't want to yell and degrade Danny but he had to. He wanted Danny to talk to him, yell at him, punch him, or get any kind of response out of the despondent young man so Jack lashed out.

"You know that file I read from that group home was right about you. You never follow through on anything. You always run away. No one can depend on you. I don't know why I was ever so stupid to give you a chance on my team, Danny."

Danny heard Jack taunting him above the sound of storm. He wanted to turn back and tell Jack he was wrong, that he would go to ends of the earth for his country, for the team, for Jack. That he was willing to die for his country and that he was willing to take a bullet for any one of them. But he had to keep walking; he couldn't endanger Jack or anyone else for another second. As he walked he continued to scan for possible threats remembering Clark's threat about having snipers at the ready to take out the people he loved, then that's when he saw it. On a rooftop to the left of him, he saw a sniper, just like Clark said, aimed at them; he turned and yelled a warning at Jack. But Jack just stood there…not moving. He yelled at Jack again and got no reaction. He knew he had only had one option; he ran towards Jack at full speed and dove hoping he wasn't too late.

Jack watched as Danny turned and yelled at him, he couldn't hear what he was saying above the storm, but was glad for some kind of reaction. He watched as though it was in slow motion as Danny ran to him, and threw himself at him. It was then he heard the crack of gunfire, as he hit the ground hard. He heard another crack before he heard four shots in close succession. The next thing he knew he was being dragged, then everything went deadly quiet apart from what he believed was his own ragged breaths.

Danny felt a burning sensation as the bullet torn into his shoulder. He rolled placing his body between Jack's and any other possible bullets. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder and his chest, he drew his gun and fired four shots, instinctively knowing that they had hit their mark. Grabbing Jack, he pulled him behind a wall and hopefully to safety. After the adrenaline of the moment subsided, he felt the gunshot wound begin to take affect. He knew Jack wasn't hit. He saw where the second bullet had gone and the first was still in him. He continued to scan the buildings as he tried ignore the pain, but with increasing difficultly, as he found it harder to breathe. But he had stay conscious so he could protect Jack from any other possible threats. It was then he heard the sirens… backup. He had done his job, he could let go now, he thought as he slid down the wall.

Jack shivered slightly as he felt the combination of the cold and shock sink in. He heard the sirens and breathed a sigh of relief. The gunfire seemed to have ceased, and he took this time to try and grasp the events that just took place. He remembered that he was not alone and glanced to the left of him, just in time to catch Danny before he fell. As Danny's head lay on his lap, he somehow pulled himself together enough to check if Danny was hurt. He patted his hands over Danny's unresponsive body until his hands came across something that was wet, warm and sticky. He pulled back his hand and stared at in shock as he saw blood staining it. It was then, he fully understood what happened, Danny had been shot- no, and Danny had taken a bullet for him. Danny was dying because of him. Danny may die thinking all of that crap he had just said was true. Danny had saved his life and back up wasn't coming fast enough.

He gently tapped Danny's face leaving blood streaks as he did. "Danny, Danny, come on. Open your eyes. Please Danny," he said as rain or, was it tears, ran down his face. "Danny all that stuff I just said to you was crap - you know that, don't you? You will… you have accomplished many great things, and there is not a day goes by when I have regretted recruiting you to my team. Please Danny, you have to be okay," Jack said as he struggled to keep it together as he held Danny's dying body in his arms. He watched as Danny's blood… Danny's life began to wash away with the rain.

TBC