Title: Till We Meet Again

Disclaimer: Slash, language, violence, character death, sexual content, angst.

POV: Danny

Chapter Eight: Reliving the Nightmare

I sat on the curb like a bum; there wasn't anything for me to do. The words echoed in my mind, the scene kept replaying. Everything had gone terribly wrong. Hadn't Jack taken the measures to insure that this wouldn't happen? How could things have gone so wrong if Jack had had us tailed? None of it made sense. It wasn't supposed to be this way. It wasn't supposed to fall apart like this. Why do bad things happen to good people? I let the tears course down my cheeks, not caring how weak I looked to the world. It just didn't make sense; I couldn't understand why it happened.

A gentle hand was laid upon my shoulder. "Come on, Danny, let's get you cleaned you," Vivian said in a hushed voice.

"Okay," I managed to mutter. I looked down at my hands, red with the color of freshly drawn blood. There are matching spots on my once white shirt. None of the blood was mine. If only I had been faster, maybe things wouldn't have gone down this way and it would have been my blood.

"We'll get you cleaned up and then I'll drive you to the hospital, alright, Danny?" She asked me in a quiet, caring voice.

"Whatever," I replied, visibly shaking. The shock of what happened was finally starting to set in. It's not like I'm in a movie anymore. All of this really happened.

Vivian wrapped an arm around my waist and placed her other hand on my hip trying to steady my stumbling steps. "Don't think about, Danny. You forget about that night, in the rain. The wound isn't that serious this time. He'll be okay, but not if you're not there. You know that if he wakes up and doesn't see you there he's going to worry about you."

Her words don't sink it; they can't penetrate into my shocked brain. I did keep thinking about that night, months ago. How could I not? Martin nearly died that night, right there in front of my eyes, on the cold, wet pavement. Now I found myself reliving the nightmare, wondering if Martin would survive the ride to the hospital. Wondering if the only love I'd ever had was about to end. For good.

Vivian sat me in the back of a waiting ambulance. There aren't any physical injuries to my body, only the emotional one in my heart. The EMT can't fix that. He shone a flashlight in my eyes, checking for a concussion. If I could find the words to speak I'd tell him that I was okay. He washes the blood from my hands before going to check on the others. Vivian never leaves my side. Not even when her phone rings. She talked to Sam, who I assume was worried about Martin and thinking about their fling. There I sat, thinking about the hell that was my job and trying to decide if I should even worry about tomorrow.

"Jack" I called as I poked my head into his office. "We have to go, come on, a tip came in."

"I'll be with you in a minute," he replied, shuffling some papers on his desk.

I left him sitting at his desk, wondering how long Martin and I would have to wait. The tip had come in just minutes ago. Someone had seen our missing brother near a junkyard; supposedly he was bound and gagged. Getting the missing brother home would do us all some good. Plus, it would get Martin away from the people threatening him. When all was said and done I hoped that Jack would send Martin away, to get out of the city and away from those who wanted to harm him. Yes, I'd be without him but at least I know he'd be safe, and that's what really mattered.

Martin leaned back against the wall near the elevator. His hands were intertwined and his eyes focused on the floor. I knew he was worrying about stepping foot outside the office. I had the same fears. His last trip to the hospital was still too fresh in my mind. I had nearly lost my best friend. Now I stood to lose the only person I'd ever completely given my heart to. Stepping up beside him I gave him a quick reassuring pat, to let him know that I was there for him, that he didn't have to step outside alone. Mentally I promised myself to take any bullets fired at him.

Jack joined us about five minutes later. "Let's go," he said, ushering us into the elevator. The three of us rode down in silence, each wondering what lay outside the safety of the FBI building. The doors opened into the parking garage to show four men standing there. I felt Martin tense up behind me.

I turned to Jack. "What the hell is this?"

He stepped out of the elevator. "This is our back-up. Two teams, made up of one driver and one fully outfitted shooter," he commented. "They'll be tailing us, to make sure no one else follows us and to be nearby incase we need their assistance."

Martin and I eyed the four men. Two of them were dressed in business suits with bullet-proof vests on and guns holstered on their hips. They look like typical FBI agents. From the car they'd look like mere business men in a city full of them. The other two men were a little more standoutish. They wore protective body armor, held rifles in their gloved hands, and even wore helmets. Of course, they were all dressed in black. I'd put my money on the fact that they'd be driving black SUVs; just what the civilians think of when they consider the FBI. How was that going to help us? Wouldn't it draw attention?

Jack led the way to his company car. At least the luxury sedan wasn't black or even dark blue. It was more a shade of silvery-white with a tint of gray. I decided mentally that it would be best for Martin to sit in the back. He'd been driving last time he got shot. If we got fired at from the front this time he'd have more protection. He pulled out the parking garage with the two big black SUVs right behind him. Like that didn't just scream pay attention to us.

"So," I said breaking the silence that was beginning to become uncomfortable. "What's the plan, Jack?"

He gave me a quick glance. "What do you mean? We're just going to go there like we would any other case. I have contact with back-up through radio. There are more people on stand-by in case we need them, thanks to Martin's father. Treat this like every other case, Danny. No one is going to get hurt, so don't even worry about it. I've taken all the precautions I can."

I thought of telling him that he didn't have to drag Martin through this, leaving him at the office could have been a precaution. Maybe Jack didn't think clearly now that his family had move to Chicago. He didn't have to worry about his safety; he didn't have a family to go home to. Martin was my family now. As we drove along I couldn't shake the feeling that something would go terribly wrong today. I kept telling myself that we'd all be safe and that tonight I'd hold Martin while he drifted off to sleep. I tried forcing away the feeling with happier thoughts but to no avail, it just wouldn't go away.

To make matters worse the area surrounding the junkyard appeared abandoned. I didn't even see so much as a bum walking the streets or huddling in a corner. The back-up vehicles dropped off as the junkyard entrance came into view. Somehow both vehicles managed to find shadowy places to park, making them a little harder to spot, though they still stood out in this vacant place. Jack pulled the sedan up to the gated entrance. He shut the engine off and gave us a look, making sure that we were ready. I glanced at Martin after we had climbed out of the car. He was shaking but trying to keep it hidden so that Jack wouldn't notice.

"We'll go in, have a look around. Make sure your guns are loaded and ready, just incase," he cautioned.

I was getting tired of the "just incase" phrase. It made the feeling of doom stand up and cheer; giving it hope that something might go wrong. Jack, gun drawn, took the lead. I followed him and Martin brought up the rear, sticking close to me. At first the place seemed completely deserted. I began to wonder who had seen anything here. There were cars piled to the sky and other things thrown in with them; like old washing machines and water heaters. The piled junk gave our enemies too many places to hide. What made things even eerier was the quiet that hung over the place like a death mask. No sounds seemed to penetrate through the fence surrounding the property. I didn't even hear so much as a bird singing. All I heard was our feet on the gravely pavement.

A shot rang out, followed shortly by another one. The first shot shattered the glass of an old Buick to my left. The second one hit the pavement closer to my body. Jack yelled something about taking cover when more shots rained upon us. In the fiery of the search for cover I saw him on his radio calling for back-up. I heard tires squeal and sirens going off. A loud noise drew my attention to the sky as I huddle near a broken down station wagon. Jack hadn't been kidding when he said other people were on standby. Flying above the junkyard was a police helicopter. It had probably been circling the area waiting for a call to assist.

Martin cried out in pain as the two SUVs following us broke through the junkyard fence. I looked to right, trying to get a better view of my lover. He wasn't in sight. Panic filled my body like the hot air in a balloon. Ducking under the cover of tangled metal I went in search of him. Jack called to me from behind, his words lost to the noise around us. The gunshots stopped as those firing out us realized they were out-numbered. Once again silence fell over the junkyard. Even the helicopter flying overhead seemed oddly muffled. I heard whimpers of pain coming from behind an old VW bug, and that's where I found Martin.

His gun lay on the pavement at his side. His body was covered in sweat and he was trembling like a leaf. Both hands were pressed firmly to his side as blood oozed out between his fingers.

"Help," I yelled as loud as I could. Fuck the shooters if they could hear me, I wanted help for Martin. "Help, agent down!"

Everything after that was a whirlwind of activity. I vaguely remembered holstering my gun and trying to get Martin to concentrate on me, not the pain that was sweeping through his body. When Jack turned up with the paramedics I kept my mouth shut even though I knew he was at fault for what had happened. Just like the last time Jack had to drag me away so the paramedics could do their job. Inside the feeling of loss was already creeping into my heart. Jack wouldn't let me ride to the hospital with Martin. He insisted on going himself. Standing there in the silent junkyard, blood on my hands, watching the ambulance leave I felt more alone than I ever had before. How I got to the sidewalk I didn't remember. I didn't even remember passing by all the other agents that were present. None of them could do anything to ease the cold that crept up on me.