Jack woke on the third ring, groping for his phone in the dark determined not to wake Kim who slept across the hall, inadvertently knocking it to the ground. Swearing under his breath he turned the lamp on, grabbing it. 'Bauer,' he snapped, noting the CTU number. Something was up yet again, something vital or he would not have been woken this late. Pulling his undershirt over his head he listened to a junior analyst's voice on the line, choking with nervousness at bothering his boss in the middle of the night. Buttoning his shirt he glared at the phone as though it were personally responsible for the dismal tidings. 'What do you mean you don't know?' he snapped, lack of knowledge irritating him beyond anything else. 'Why did that plane crash? Didn't they send an SOS? Was Tony on it?'

'Sir, they did send an SOS, but it was garbled. The plane was obviously damaged, and part of the message could have been lost in the storm. I'm afraid Tony Almeida and Michelle Dessler were both on the passenger manifest.'

Jack slipped into his jeans, his mind racing. 'And no terrorist group has contacted us yet?'

'No sir.'

'Keep scanning for any indication of a message. Scan Italian government sites as well, it was their plane. Have the rescue crew located the plane?'

'No sir,' the analyst said uneasily. 'The storm's too bad to send choppers yet. They're set to go the moment the weather clears.'

'Dammit! What the hell are those people thinking about? If anyone survived that crash they'll need medical attention now, not next week. Who's responsible for search and rescue?'

'The Pakistani government, sir. The plane went down in their country.'

Jack nodded, leaving the silent house. A dozen questions swirled through his brain as he drove to CTU. Why had the plane dropped out of the sky after sending an incomprehensible SOS? Could the storm have caused damage? He doubted it, aware the plane was constructed to fly through far worse weather than the doomed aircraft had crossed. Was it shot down? If so, why was there no gloating message? Did anyone survive the crash? More importantly, did Tony survive the crash? He found himself blinking as he pulled into the deserted car park, racing for the door. Should he contact the Pakistani ambassador and inform him of Tony's presence on the flight? He paused uneasily, deciding against it until he was aware of more facts.

'Passenger manifest,' he snapped at the analyst as he entered the building, climbing the stairs to his office two at a time. It appeared on his desk minutes later, the analyst hovering nearby. Jack seized it, scanning the names of his colleagues. Michelle Dessler, dammit, Tony Almeida.. .He frowned in concentration, seeing two names below his friend's. 'Who the hell are Marco and Rita Almeida? Tell me they're not some kind of relatives?' he snapped at the junior.

The man reddened under his scrutiny. 'Sir, they're his parents. I already checked,' he admitted, anticipating the next question. 'I haven't had time to search their itinerary. Shall I call someone?'

'No, I'll do it. Let me know the moment you pick anything up,' Jack insisted, gazing at the names. 'And call Adam in, I want him checking the rest of the passengers. I want to know who they are, where they're from, what they do, what their hobbies are, everything!' He glared at the retreating analyst, shaking his head. Why the hell did you take your parents with you, Tony? Was it a family holiday? Did they go to Australia to keep Michelle company? The sleepy official at the Australian embassy confirmed their entry date as matching Tony and Michelle's, giving him concise details of their entire holiday, down to the hotels they stayed at. Jack's heart ached as he listened, taping the conversation for further analysis, aware how close Tony was to his parents. It had been a running joke at CTU before Michelle had moved in with Tony, whether he would last a weekend without visiting his parents. He never had.

'We'll catch up later, Jack.' He shuddered, Tony's voice echoing from the building. Jack got up and stared into the bullpen, relieved to note Adam had arrived and appeared engrossed in his search. He almost dreaded the morning when Chappelle would be informed of the disaster. Tony's office was dark as he stared at it, his eyes moistening. Dammit Tony. You had to pick the one flight that went down this entire month! You think you can just leave all this paperwork…He wiped a hand across his cheek in fury and turned back to his desk, determined to hurry the search and rescue teams along.

His first piece of information came from a contact at the Russian embassy, informing him that the plane had indeed been shot out of the sky by a GAM, each moment picked up by one of their military satellites. The plane had apparently made a precarious landing, coming to a halt on some plain. Their pictures were a little hazy, they were being enhanced as they spoke and he would let Jack see them the moment they were done. Jack thanked him, calling the US base in Uzbekistan to demand aid for his stranded friends.

The commander he spoke to was less than amused at the call. 'Mr. Bauer, like I told you, my fighters are not authorized to fly into Pakistani airspace,' he repeated in obvious irritation. 'Yes we could be there in an hour or so, but no, we're not going in. It's completely outta the question! It's not even our plane. Let the Pakistanis search for it, or the Italians.'

'Dammit, Commander, would you just listen?' Jack begged. 'You're the closest group who can actually do anything to help those people. I'll even give you a reason to do so. Satellite shows most of those people made it outta that plane. If those terrorists got hold of my colleague, they could lay their hands on all kinds of classified data. You could send your fighters and choppers in now and pick him up…'

'Mr. Bauer, this is the US Air Force you're discussing. We can't just "go in and pick" people up! If your colleague is indeed alive, it's an intelligence matter, not a military one.' He laid the receiver down with a snap, leaving Jack to pound on his desk in sheer frustration. A sudden idea hit him. He called the White House, leaving a message for the president to contact him as soon as he was able to do so. If anyone could order that arrogant commander to send some rescue helicopters, it was him. Unable to think of anything further to assist his friend he settled at his desk, sipping a third coffee.

Internal body clock completely disrupted by all the flying he had done in the last nine days, Tony wasn't sure whether it was breakfast, lunch or dinner that he missed, only that he had missed something. Hunger gnawed at him, twisting his stomach into painful knots as he trudged along the narrow mountain trail, barely more than a goat track in places. He had long since given the child to another man and returned to Michelle, supporting her along the slippery terrain. Her leg was badly swollen and she was unable to put any weight on it, forcing her to hop on one leg with her arms wrapped about him for support. His eyes rested on Ali, the leader of the group, willing him to call a temporary halt and hand out supplies, but the man ignored him, urging them forward. Annoyed, he slowed his steps, his actions causing the entire group to slacken their pace.

'What the hell's wrong with you, spaghetti?' demanded Ali, the only one of the group who spoke English. 'Get it moving.'

'You gonna give us some water?' Tony demanded, risking a glance at him. Ali's eyes bore into his own, the flicker warning him to steel himself seconds before he raised his hand, the blow almost knocking him off the path. Tony rubbed his left eye, hoping it hadn't suffered permanent damage.

'You will get water when you arrive. You will get a bullet in the brain if you don't arrive,' Ali snapped, turning to regard his father. 'What's your problem, Mexican? You got something to add to this discussion?'

Marco Almeida shook his head with difficulty. 'No,' he said softly.

'I should hope not,' Ali exclaimed, giving him a hard look. 'And you lack manners, Sombrero! You say "no sir".'

'No sir,' Marco forced out, his teeth clenched.

'That's better. If you'd all pick up the pace we'd arrive sooner. You might even find some fish and chips,' he cried, leaning into an elderly English couple who drew back in revulsion. 'Or sauerkraut,' he laughed, staring at the American woman and baby who had borrowed the German passport. 'Or,' he paused, eyeing Michelle dubiously. 'What the hell is New Zealand's national dish?'

Michelle's heart skipped a beat before she bravely raised her head. 'We eat mainly English food…' Oh God, why did he have to ask ME that?

'Kiwi fruit,' Ali decided, laughing to himself. 'That's it,' he beamed, moving further down the line, yelling at the mainly Italian group, the words pizza, spaghetti Bolognese and lasagna reaching Tony's ears, causing his stomach to rumble louder. He attempted to ignore the words, focusing on the winding path, half guiding half carrying Michelle. Great, a well traveled fanatic! You're gonna have to work hard to keep your mouth shut, Almeida, real hard. The safety of your entire family depends on it, on your remaining anonymous and you managed to attract attention twice so far! Nice going! And the bastard's definitely American!

'You okay?' he questioned, risking a glance at her ashen face.

She nodded bravely. 'Yeah. I should ask you that, Tony? How's your face?'

'Fine,' he replied, noting her face darken. 'It's numb, sweetheart. It's not gonna hurt for a while.'

She nodded her acceptance of his condition, squeezing his fingers. 'How much further you think we're going?'

He shook his head, unable to estimate their remaining travel time as he was woefully ignorant of the surrounding geography. 'No idea, honey. But look at it this way, they got old people and kids and we're heading up that mountain range, so I'm guessing it's not much further. Want me to carry you a bit?'

She stared at him unhappily, unwilling to burden him but barely able to hobble along due to a blister on her uninjured foot. Tony sank down, swinging her into his arms. 'We're gonna be fine, sweetheart. Trust me on this.'

'You really think so?' she asked miserably. 'I mean, we're in, I don't even know where exactly, there's not a single road in sight, we're heading into high mountains, it's getting colder and we're kidnapped by Muslim militants. If they ever find out…'

'Listen carefully, Michelle,' he interrupted, his tone serious. 'They're not gonna find out, okay. I'm gonna dump our real passports first chance I get. As long as they don't suspect anything, we're okay for the time being, until I figure out a way for us to get outta here.' He stared at her confidently, willing her to trust him. 'Michelle, we survived an air crash. We're gonna survive this, too.'

She listened to him spellbound, pain throbbing through her leg. His voice had a spellbinding quality that never failed to reassure her no matter what disaster they were facing, a voice that allayed her concerns night after night. Her hands tightened round his neck. 'I love you, Tony.'

'Me too. Wanna hear a confession, sweetheart? When I said mountains looked real beautiful, I was just talking. I'm beginning to change my mind,' he whispered, rewarded by her first watery smile.

The path they followed wound treacherously through the mountains, climbing steeply. They began to struggle, dislodging hundreds of loose pebbles with their shoes as they climbed, slipping and sliding and sending showers of stones to burden the people behind them. Were he not carrying Michelle Tony would have volunteered to go last. As it was he struggled uphill, unable to wipe the sweat that again trickled down his forehead in the icy wind. An hour into the climb he stopped wearily, sinking onto the ground, his example followed by the rest of the group.

'Hey spaghetti,' yelled an indignant Ali, emerging from behind him. 'What the hell's your problem? Not into mountain climbing, are we? Get on your feet,' he threatened, waving the rifle at him.

'Look, Ali, you gotta give us five minutes,' Tony insisted, beyond caring about receiving a further blow. 'I gotta go somewhere for a minute. I'll be behind that bush!' He set off without risking a backward glance, crouching behind a scraggly bush, his fingers digging the rock hard soil in desperation. Once he had succeeded in digging a shallow incline, he buried their American passports, covering them with loose stones and the remainder of the soil he had shoveled out. Taking a deep breath he returned to the group, throwing Michelle a reassuring look. Ali glared at him with a thunderous expression, waving his rifle at the exhausted group.

The final part of the trip was torturous, haunting Tony's sleep for years to come. The path turned sharply uphill, necessitating them to crawl along in some places to avoid falling backwards. Once they rounded a sharp bend they were directed over the bare hill face at an alarming rate, grabbing each other to prevent themselves rolling to the bottom of a dark crevice. His admiration for his mother increased with each step she took, noting her and Michelle's stoic acceptance of their fate without complaint. This is all your fault, Almeida. You should NEVER have allowed anyone to talk you into taking Michelle so far away for a holiday. Look what you got her into this time. And there's mom! She's not that young anymore and she's never been near mountains. It's not as though anyone's gonna come rescue you, so they've all gotta make this climb back again someday…We don't, after all, negotiate with terrorists…Keep an eye on the path, remember how you got here.

The scenery left him with little encouragement. The mountains were bare from overgrazing, tufts of grass breaking an otherwise brown landscape. The entire terrain lacked trees, houses, or even a noticeable path. He fought against despair as they continued their journey, yelled at by their captors who took fiendish delight in their misery.

The storm continued unabated, lashing them with the largest raindrops he had ever encountered, soaking him to the skin. Ali halted them during a particularly savage squall and they sank down where they stood. Tony turned back, slipping his right arm round his mother, holding Michelle tight in his left, attempting to shield her from the brunt of the wind. 'You ok, mom?' he whispered, willing her to say yes.

'I'm holding up, sweetheart,' she assured him. 'Tony, listen to me. If ever they discover who you are…'

'They won't mom. And you don't need to worry, I'm not gonna give them any kinda information.'

'I know that,' she told him unhappily. 'You've been through something like this before honey; I know how tough you are. I just wanted to tell you that if they threaten us, your father or me for information, don't think of telling them anything. Do you understand, sweetheart?'

He nodded, discovering another unknown quality to her character, intense courage. 'Mom, I've been thinking.' He stared at her, reveling in her hug. 'You and Papa got to pretend you're strangers to me. You're just another Italian passenger.' He saw her frown and laid a finger on her face, stroking her cheek. 'It's gotta be this way till we get outta here, coz if they ever do discover who I am, I won't have you face the consequences. You understand, mom?'

His mother nodded reluctantly, hating the thought of treating him as a stranger. 'Only until we get out,' she agreed. 'Tony, how soon do you think they'll come for us?' She noticed a flicker in his eyes and took his hand. 'I want the truth, sweetheart.'

He nodded, aware she deserved it. 'You got it. There's no way choppers are gonna fly in such terrain in this kinda weather. I haven't got much experience with mountains, but from what I heard, a storm here can last weeks…' He fell silent, hating to dash her hopes. 'By the time it's over, they'll find nothing more than the plane.'

'But honey, they'll come search for us, won't they?' she pleaded.

He shook his head. 'I doubt it. This part of the country is the border region, lacking all infrastructure. It's ungovernable, mom. No one controls this place. The Pakistanis won't send in a rescue team because they'd be mowed down the moment they arrived.'

'So we're on our own,' she guessed.

'Yeah,' he agreed softly, an eye on the returning terrorists. 'But don't worry, I'll get us outta here. I've been trained to do so,' he assured her, breaking away abruptly. 'They're coming.'

His mother sat up, twirling a blade of grass in her fingers. Michelle's head remained buried in his lap, totally succumbed to pain and exhaustion. He stroked it gently, avoiding Ali's gaze. Their captors appeared to enjoy the rest, though in his estimation they could have continued all day without a break were the situation more pressing. They surrounded their captives, weapons trained on them, ever vigilant. Escaping from them would prove challenging. Soaked as he was he ignored the wet ground as he stretched out, shutting his eyes. His mother settled into his father's arms, resting her head against his shoulder. They spoke to each softly obviously wishing to give him a few minutes undisturbed rest.

'What are you thinking about, querida?' Marco whispered, stroking her face.

'Tony. He was so cute when he was a baby - seems like yesterday. He's still so young, Marco, too young to die…'

'No one's gonna die, querida,' he insisted firmly. Pulling her closer he grinned at her through the rain. 'He was cute, I remember. So tiny…'

She settled more comfortably against him, relaxing slightly as she relived the moment. 'You brought him to me, remember, Marco. You said I should feed him like the horses fed their colts.'

Marco chuckled, turning crimson. 'I'm sorry, sweetheart. That was inexcusably rude. I meant that I didn't like the look of that formula they prepared for him.'

Rita nodded. 'I realized what you meant after I slapped you. And you called mom.' She fell silent and he sighed, stroking her hair. Tony listened breathless, aware there was something that remained unspoken between them. 'Dammit, Marco, why wouldn't she just come and see him. He was just a baby, he was innocent.'

'You know her,' he replied, hugging her tightly. They sat together refusing to clarify the point, rain pouring over them. Unable to wait any longer Tony stirred.

'What was I innocent of?' he asked casually, leaning towards them without moving Michelle. They stared at him startled, eyes avoiding his. 'Dammit, Papa, I want an answer. I heard something when I was a kid - Abuela said I ruined mom's life. I wanna know why!'

The silence stretched, as he waited in increasing impatience determined to receive an answer. 'Why don't you tell him, Marco?' Rita said eventually. 'He's old enough.'

Tony watched his father's awkward face bewildered. It's gonna be bad, Almeida. Something happened that drove Abuela wild. Not that that's unusual in itself, she's always displeased about something…He felt sorry for his mother for being raised by such a harsh parent.

'We had another year of college. We'd known each almost three years…We were best friends and I intended to ask your mother to marry me once we graduated and I found work.'

'But?' Tony pressed.

'Just before the end of term we went camping, just the two of us. Your mom found this deserted spot near Lake Michigan. We set up our tents, made our campfire and talked…'

Tony leaned on an elbow, brow furrowed. 'You made me there, right?'

Eyes on the ground, Marco sighed. 'We did.'

Tony grinned, his face wet with rain. 'And you think I'm gonna condemn you guys. I've known for a long time.'

They gasped, staring at him wordless.

'I had plenty of spare time during the evening shift when I first started at CTU. I mean, it didn't take much figuring. Babies take nine months, not five!' He rubbed his face, watching them. 'Guess I kinda came at an inconvenient time.'

'No, sweetheart. A year later would've been perfect, but we managed anyway. And you were so cute we loved you right away,' his mother assured him, reaching forward to pat his hair. 'Get some rest, Tony.'

He nodded, settling back against the ground, eyes shut. He intended to remain awake but exhaustion claimed him and he drifted off, waking to a hand shaking his shoulder. 'We're moving,' his father told him.

Tony blinked a few raindrops off his eyelids and gazed around, noting the terrorists had assembled the majority of the passengers in something that resembled a line. Groaning unashamedly he rose, helping Michelle to her feet. 'Did you fall asleep?' she asked, the exhaustion plain in her own voice.

'Yeah, I guess so,' he replied, steeling himself for the remainder of the journey, which looked as lethal a descent down the bare mountainside as any mountaineering movie he had ever seen. 'Looks like we're going down again, sweetheart. Just hang onto me,' he said softly, hoping to encourage her to hop a little further. Just hang onto me, right, Almeida. So you'll fall to your deaths together rather than individually! If ever there was a case of the blind leading the blind, this is it! He moved forward defiantly, his attitude indicating a false sense of familiarity with the harsh environment.

Ali spared him a searching gaze, attempting to read something from his eyes. Tony looked away in a hurry, the need to remain anonymous paramount to his survival. He's challenging you, Almeida. He can sense something about you; he's just not sure what it is yet. Just stare at the ground when he looks at you and try to shrink away, or he'll start getting nasty real soon. He slowed his pace, supporting Michelle's entire weight as they continued their struggle downwards. He slipped near the bottom when some loose stones rolled out from under his foot before he could adjust her weight, leaving him rolling undignified a few yards down the slope before his fingers grabbed a tuft of hard grass and he rose to his knees, wiping the mud from his jeans. Michelle watched with horrified eyes, prevented from joining him by a last minute grab from his father, who held her in his arms. Tony climbed back slowly, his cheeks scarlet and took her arm, nodding his thanks at his father. I'm okay, nothing hurt but my pride.

His parents seemed to understand his unspoken words, resuming the nightmare descent. The rain increased, further loosening the pebbles. Had he been alone he would have sunk into a miserable heap and wept. He began to wonder whether they would all even arrive at their destination, let alone live long enough to leave.

'I'll let you know Jack, like I told you a coupla minutes ago,' Chloe exclaimed exasperated. 'You don't need to keep coming in here to remind me. I'm scanning all frequencies for any mention of that plane. I'll let you know when I get something, ok?'

Jack nodded, the restlessness eating his nerves. 'Keep searching.'

Her phone rang, sparing him a sarcastic comment. 'O'Brien,' she sighed. She listened carefully. 'Yeah, he's here.' Covering the phone with her hand, she leaned towards him. 'Mr. Chappelle's holding for you on line one, Jack.'

Jack wondered how he could have predicted that call. 'I'll take it in my office,' he told her, hurrying away to do battle with the man all in CTU answered to.