A/N: Warning that things will get "dark" for a while. Please hang with me. I'm not sure which direction it goes after this.

Chapter 8 – The Thought Of Losing It All

Martin turned the car down a side street as he looked at Jack and said, "We're almost there. You better put on your flack jacket."

Grumbling, "I hate those things," Jack reached into the backseat and hesitated before turning back around. As he leaned his head back on the headrest, he closed his eyes and muttered, "Dammit! I can't believe it."

Confused, Martin asked, "Jack? Aren't you going to suit up?"

"I don't have it."

Martin was shocked. "What do you mean you don't have it? Maybe it's in the trunk? You need your vest! Are you sure it's not here?"

Jack just shook his head as he stared straight ahead and tried to ignore the feeling of being suddenly naked. "I had the car in the shop for regular maintenance yesterday. My vest is hanging in my locker back in the prep-room."

When Martin finally caught Jack's eye, an instant chilled raced down his spine. He saw something he never imagined he would see in Jack Malone's eyes...he saw a touch of fear. He felt a strong sense of foreboding surround them. He admittedly was scared, but tried to shake the feeling by running tactical procedures through his mind.

As they pulled up to the warehouse, Jack tried one more time to no avail to reach anyone else on the team. He looked at Martin and said, "Well, we know they're in there and may or may not know we have Jennifer. How many do you think there are?"

Martin contemplated the question. "Based on what the brother and street say, I would guess two or three. I think we can take them by surprise, if we act quickly."

Jack nodded his agreement, "Yeah. If we wait, we may have more than we can handle. Ready?"

Martin drew his pistol and stepped in front of Jack. Shrugging his shoulders, he offered, "Hey. I have a jacket."

As Martin led the way through a back door, they moved as quietly as possible and worked their way through the dusty warehouse. Toward the back, they came across a staircase that clearly had more foot traffic, as the dust had been cleared off the treads. Jack nodded to Martin and slowly started moving up the stairs. At the top landing they could hear voices, and knew Wilkinson had to be in the room straight ahead.

The heart rate of both men intensified. Just before they burst into the room, they shared a look. Unbeknownst to each other, their thoughts were on the same woman.

Jack launched himself into the room yelling, "FBI! Get down!" Martin quickly followed shouting, "Now! Now! Now!"

Shots immediately rang out from Martin's left as men scurried for cover. Jack quickly realized there were many more people in the room than they had anticipated, but it was too late now. They had to stand and fight.

Jack turned and fired as he ran to the right behind a pillar, hitting one man. On his left, Martin ducked and ran to the left. Jack was certain Martin's gunfire had brought down another. He figured the odds were not down to about eight to two.

Wilkinson shouted, "Well if it ain't Agent Malone. Welcome to my turf, you stinking pig. Look around at the place where you are gonna die! I intend on beating the life out of you….just like I promised."

Jack knew he had to buy some time for backup to get there. He prayed Samantha would not be part of the backup team, but figured she would want to know Martin was safe. At the same time, he remembered her reaction when he had asked her how it was going and if she was happy. She'd stumbled on her reply, but had finally admitted her life had been better. The look she'd given him had touched his heart, but he wasn't sure if it was meant to or not.

Glancing at his watch, he figured they had been in the warehouse less than five minutes. He took a deep breath, and yelled, "Give it up, Wilkinson, and tell your boys to do the same. We have Jennifer and the weapons. The game is over. No one needs to get hurt."

Wilkinson's answer was a hail of bullets as he charged with his men, yelling like a madman. Martin and Jack each got off several shots before two men overpowered Martin and cold cocked him with a piece of pipe. He crumbled to the ground and the world faded to black as he watched the gang attack Jack.

Five men charged Jack. Wilkinson was enraged that more of his men were injured. He hissed at Jack, "I'm gonna enjoy each minute of watching you get the crap beat out of you." He punched him hard in the stomach. "Before you die," he said in a hate-filled tone, "You're gonna tell me I'm the best you ever saw."

Jack doubled over gasping for air, but two men held him up as the others took turns beating him unmercifully. He was soon a bloody mess and barely clinging to consciousness.

Working himself further into his rage, Wilkinson grabbed a pistol and shoved the cold steel under Jack's chin as he yelled, "You are gonna die, pig. No one can stop me!"

One of his goons said, "Wait a minute, dude. I didn't sign up to get slapped with murdering no G-man." Another said, "Yeah. Me neither. You want to wax him, that's your business, but I'm not taking the wrap with you."

Jack fought to stay conscious, but waves of pain and nausea kept dragging him down. He felt the blood draining off his face and down his throat from a broken nose. He could barely breathe, but then again, he had heard his ribs crack when one of the henchmen hit his chest with a pipe, so that figured.

His eyes had swollen shut long ago. He knew he'd spit out at least one tooth when he'd heard his jaw crack. His mind began to wonder through the pain-induced fog. How long has it been? Where's backup? Where's Samantha? At least they'll try the fucking sonofabitch for murder.

Wilkinson bellowed, "You bunch of pussys! You afraid of this piece of shit lawman? Hell, I'm untouchable. Me, you, nobody…is going down for icing this suit." But he faltered just a bit when two of the guys started heading for the door. "Don't you dare walk out that door!" he yelled.

Running to the middle of the room, he shot the two men in the back. Then he turned the gun on Jack.

"Now look what you've done, you son of a bitch! You just got two more of my men killed!" Jack was barely aware of what was happening when he felt his shoulder snap back violently, followed by fire coursing through his veins.

Jack had never been shot before, but with what little lucidness remained, he knew Wilkinson had just put a slug in him. Wild images started flashing in his mind. Brilliant colors and rapidly moving shapes swirled and collided. He heard a voice telling him to just let go. But then another voice told him to hang on, convincing him that life was worth fighting for.

He battled with the pain that was driving him insane. He had lost a tremendous amount of blood. Death was imminent.

Then her face came into focus. Her smile was so sweet; almost coy. Her hair was blowing in the breeze as she moved seductively to him and then…he suddenly fell to the ground.

The goons holding him up had dropped him. He heard voices. Yelling. Gunshots. Running. He tried so hard to get the image of her face back, but it was gone. He felt life slowly draining from his body as he pleaded, "Sam. Sam where are you? Sam. Please." His mind and world went dark.

-xxxx-

Samantha and the backup team roared into the vacant parking lot next to Jack and Martin's car. Officers quickly fanned out around the building and poured into every open window and door. Two shots rang out upstairs, followed by one more as Samantha yelled, "This way!" and bolted to the staircase.

Waiting for three uniforms to catch up to her, they bolted into the room yelling, "Nobody move! Throw down your weapons!"

Bullets filled the room, but two thugs were hit immediately and three more dropped to the floor with their hands up pleading, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

Wilkinson roared like a crazed animal and rushed the overwhelming forces, firing his weapon erratically until he emptied the clip. Samantha leveled her pistol and ordered, "Stop Wilkinson! Get down! Now!

It was then that Wilkinson seemed to understand the absurdity of the situation. He threw down his gun and raised his hands over his head. Two officers rushed forward to cuff him.

"At least I won," he sneered. "I killed that bastard." He threw back his head back and let out a loud, maniacal laugh.

Samantha quickly scanned the room. Her eyes met Martin's as he was getting to his feet with the help of two agents. He had quite a bit of blood on his shirt and matted in his hair. He started toward her, but she spun to scan the rest of the room.

She saw his crumpled body.

Fear seized her heart. "I killed that bastard."

Sprinting toward his lifeless body, she yelled, "Medic. I need a medic NOW! Get me an ambulance. NOW!"

She dropped to her knees and saw no signs of life. She saw nothing but blood and black and blue beaten flesh. If it hadn't been for his suit, she wouldn't have recognized him.

Her chest constricted and she couldn't breathe.

Tears stung her eyes as they blurred her vision.

"Jack! Jack! Can you hear me? Stay with me Jack."

Her hand was shaking so badly she couldn't check for a pulse. She turned and yelled, "Where is the damned ambulance! I said NOW!"

She whipped off her jacket and fashioned a crude cushion and placed it gently under his head.

Still no signs of life.

Her hands were covered in sticky crimson blood. The room spun out of control. She cradled his face and pleaded, "Please God. Not him. Please don't take him from me. Please God. I'm begging you."

She felt someone trying to pull her away as she fought wildly against them. "Get your hands off me!" she growled as she crawled back to his body pleading, "Jack. Jack please. Come on. You gotta fight Jack. Don't leave me."

Martin was at her side pulling her back saying, "Give the medics room to work. Give them room Samantha," but she kept pushing him away.

He finally shook her roughly by the shoulders and yelled, "LISTEN TO ME! LOOK AT ME, SAMANTHA! You have to give the medics room to work. They have a pulse.

He's alive Samantha….barely….but he's alive."

tbc