Thanks to everyone for reviewing, especially Sara Sidle, Kay, pealee, S.c.ou.s.er.4.li.f.e, Ebony & Renee and everyone…. The next chapter won't be for a week or so I'm afraid, as I'm going on holidays.

There was a mistake with the date at the start of Chapter 3, sorry! It should have been 2004, I've just changed it. I hope switching between timelines depending on chapter isn't too confusing, but it's the only way this story can really work.

Chapter 5

FBI Missing Persons May 2004.

Martin Fitzgerald heaved a sigh of relief as he made his way out of the glass fronted café, across the car park and away from his father. The anger which had been threatening to spill over started to cool down the more he walked.

Breakfast had been as expected. Tense. Angry. Confrontational. Even more so than usual. He knew that his father hadn't wanted him to join the FBI and certainly hadn't wanted him to join missing persons. It was too close to home; too much of a reminder of what had happened. But he didn't join for that reason, no matter what his father thought, he didn't do it just to piss him off, although, Martin grinned as he sat into the driver seat of his car, which was a bit of a bonus.

His smile soon faded however as he mulled over his fathers parting words. "Look Martin, this is not the correct choice for you, I have conveyed this to Jack Malone by telephone, and I believe he agrees with me."

Surely not? Surely Jack would see through Victor Fitzgerald, would see that his father just wants him out of missing persons? Wouldn't he?

For some reason Martin just couldn't be sure about it, about anything. His father was like that; he never made definite commitments in any particular direction, but simply chipped away at the surface. By degrees he would instill doubt into Jack Malone's mind and in the sure and certain knowledge that he was 'doing the right thing' for his son.

The noise of his cell phone ringing was a welcome interruption….

"Fitzgerald".

"Martin, its Jack, I'm on my way over to Annette Hooper's boyfriends apartment. 1361 West 73rd Street. Meet me there." Jacks voice was even, and his tone betrayed neither annoyance nor friendship.

Martin flipped off his cell phone and sighed, turning his attention back to the traffic ahead of him. Twenty minutes driving saw him pulling up behind Jack's tan sedan. He sighed heavily before opening the door. He needed to talk to Jack, to know that his boss was thinking…

As he was stepping out of the car Martin could hear shouts coming from inside the building!. He immediately went into alert, pulling his gun from its holster as he sprinted inside the front door and up the stairs.

Martin entered the apartment to find Karl Woodward face down on the floor in handcuffs, and a breathless Jack Malone standing over him. "Now maybe you'll listen to me" Jack whipped around to face Martin. "Where the hell were you, I phoned you half an hour ago."

Before the younger agent could apologize however, Jack continued. "Mr. Woodward here wasn't being very cooperative, tried to run away in fact. I think under the circumstances we should just arrest him." He turned back to face the man who was now sitting upright on the floor, his hands behind his back. Karl Woodward was in his early thirties, slightly balding and wearing an obviously expensive suit.

"Evading an FBI officer…grievous bodily harm…and that's just the beginning of it."

Martin slipped into his role immediately. "You want me to bring him in now Jack?" he began, making his way across the room.

"No, wait, look, I just got scared when you came in the door ok, I….I thought you were someone else. I'll talk, no problem, ok, just take off these handcuffs."

There was a silent, almost imperceptible interchange between the two FBI agents.

'Will we?'

'Nah, lets make him sweat it out a little more'

'Ok'

Twenty minutes later the two agents exited the front door of the apartment block, Jack was on the telephone and Martin just ahead of him.

"Hey Viv. Listen, Martin and I just spoke to Annette Hooper's boyfriend, apparently they'd been having a few 'problems' lately, he thought she might be having an affair with someone but couldn't figure out who, he told us that he last spoke to her three days ago and they had an argument and decided not to see each other for a while. How did you get on with her professor."

Jack nodded as he listened then after a brief "Ok, ill see you back at the bullpen" he ended the call.

"Well it looks like Annette and the professor were having some kind of an affair. He's married with three kids, doesn't want his wife to find out naturally, so he's willing to tell us anything he knows, Viv and Sam are bringing him in for questioning."

Martin nodded silently and there was an awkward pause before he replied. "Ok, ill meet you there, but listen, Jack, I know my fath….."

"We'll talk about that later." Jack's voice was clipped and Martin knew to say no more. As Jack Malone pulled out of sight however, he couldn't help banging his fist against his car door in frustration. Victor Fitzgerald wasn't going to win this time; he's talk to Jack somehow before the day was out.

Martin's phone rang yet again as he was pulling away from the curb. "Fitzgerald"

"Martin, it's Grace Jackson."

Martin felt his heart skip a beat, and then it began to pound relentlessly in his chest. After a moment's pause he spoke. "Grace, nice to hear from you, how are things in Washington, are they treating you well?"

"Look Martin, Jameson was released last night. I thought you should know before it became public news."

Martin pulled the car over sharply to the side of the road, causing those vehicles behind him to brake and shouts of abuse were hurled at him as they drove by. But Martin was oblivious to anything except his pounding heart and the fact that the hand holding the phone to his ear had started to shake.

Memories…… the cellar, the damp cold walls, being cold and hungry, being alone. A man standing over him, taunting him.

Stan Jameson.

And without saying goodbye to the woman who had been an investigating officer on the case all those years ago, Martin hung up the phone, flung the car door open and vomited.

All in all this definitely wasn't one of Martin Fitzgerald's better days.