Alberta Green positioned herself advantageously on the second step, surveying the assembled group with a smirk of disdain. It was clear to her that she was disliked, the air thick with tension, but it was an atmosphere she cultivated by choice, preferring respect over devotion. The team that awaited her new instructions was unused to her style, she could tell from a mile. They were the sort who would work day and night during a crisis if Tony asked them to stay - not hesitating to take the occasional sick leave on quieter days. Well, that was about to change. She would have them jumping at her commands within the week.

'For those of you who haven't worked with me yet, my name is Alberta Green,' she began, enjoying the first line of the introduction above the rest of her 'speech.' 'I'll be here to run things until CTU finds a replacement for Director Almeida. Until such time I shall attempt to sort through this backlog left unattended, and I expect full…'

'Excuse me; did I hear you say that CTU is seeking a replacement for Tony? I don't understand why. He didn't resign,' a Latino interrupted her, his narrow eyes boring into her own, interrupting her speech at its most significant point.

She favored him with an icy stare. 'I haven't quite finished. As I was saying, I expect your full cooperation. Anyone arriving a minute late will be fired! Shoddy work will no longer be tolerated! Lunch breaks are 25 minutes only; see that you're back on time. Don't imagine you can get away with slipping things past me; I have a nose fine tuned to detect bullshit. Should you decide to take a day's sick leave, I will expect that to be covered by a note from a doctor. That is all, get back to work.'

They scattered, wearing slightly bemused expressions, obviously unused to showing respect to a superior. Much to her annoyance the Latino remained behind, eyeing her challengingly. 'You wanted something?' she asked.

'I had a question, Ms. Green. Why seek a replacement for Tony, when he's obviously returning in a coupla weeks?'

'What was your name?' she demanded, undisturbed by his persistence.

'Gael Ortega,' he replied, side tracked. 'Why,' he began again, persisting despite her writhing glare.

'Because we both know, Gael, that he's not returning,' she told him sweetly.

Tony surveyed the bathroom, satisfied with his efforts. The entire place was clean, though the lingering smell would take a while to dissipate. 'Looks like we avoided cholera,' he said relieved. 'I'll go get Michelle; she'd appreciate a little privacy.' Marco nodded in silent exhaustion.

Michelle had evidently been practicing hobbling around while he had been occupied. She rose, moving towards him with the confidence of one who had been on crutches for years. 'Hey, Tony.' She paused, sniffing the air dubiously.

'I know, I need to change,' he told her softly, his eye on the passengers sitting aimlessly in the shade behind her. 'What were you doing, sweetheart?'

'Getting to know everyone,' she replied, following him to the bathroom. 'You know, I was terrified someone had been to New Zealand, but no one had.' She let out a sigh of relief and Tony grinned at her.

'Sweetheart, it's real simple. If someone had been there, you gotta ask first where they've been, then tell 'em you're from the other island! So what do you think of our job?' He stood aside, letting her enter first.

She threw her arms round him the moment they entered, her tongue probing his mouth. Tony held her to him, returning the passionate kiss in the temporary privacy the bathroom offered. 'I love you so much, Tony. It's the hardest thing in the world, pretending we only just met. I keep having to stop myself from just grabbing you for a kiss.'

He nodded. 'Yeah, same here. Come here,' he whispered, drawing her back for a second kiss, determined to hold her for a few minutes longer. 'I know it's not the most romantic spot in the world…' They giggled together, arms wrapped round each other.

'Not the most romantic, no,' she agreed, amused. 'Even Billy back in junior high picked the back of the bike sheds.'

Tony raised his eyebrows fractionally, peering at her. 'Billy?' he questioned, his tone betraying intense curiosity. 'Just what did he plan on doin' there?'

Michelle chuckled; thrilled he'd picked up on the topic.

'Come on, sweetheart. Don't tell me you never met any girls behind the bike shed.'

Tony folded his arms, scrutinizing her. 'I went to a boys' school, sweetheart. You gonna tell me about Billy, or do I have to arrest every single man with that name when I get back?'

Michelle laughed aloud, thrilling him. It's working, Almeida. You're distracting her from our dismal situation. And if you're completely honest, you're not gonna get a moment's rest till you hear all about it! 'Michelle,' he pressed. 'What did you do with Billy behind the bike sheds?'

She turned red in his arms, avoiding his gaze. 'I got my first kiss,' she admitted.

'Hah,' Tony muttered, shaking his head in disapproval. 'Behind a bike shed! So what's he doin' now?'

Michelle shrugged. 'Haven't seen him since junior high,' she said, to his secret relief. 'So you never hung out behind the bike sheds, Tony? Not for anything?'

'Not in high school, sweetheart, it was too well patrolled, but I had a coupla fights there in elementary school,' he admitted.

'Fights,' she said disapprovingly. 'Tony, that's not what that place is for! So where did you get your first kiss?'

Tony tossed his head, reluctant to explain. 'Oh, ok, if you insist. One of my sister's friends was unable to go home without trying to kiss me first.' He pulled a face as she laughed aloud. 'She managed to track me down, no matter where I hid!'

Michelle shook her head bewildered, turning a critical eye on him. 'Who was the first girl YOU kissed, Tony? And don't tell me it was one of your sisters or cousins. I mean the first girl not related to you.'

'Lupita from the swim team, if you must know.' He paused, remembering the fluorescent pink bathers she wore, her hair in two braids swinging round her shoulders, the way her body curved as she dived into the water…

His daydream was interrupted by a sharp tap on his wrist. 'So what's she doing now?' Michelle inquired in the same tone of casual disinterest he had attempted to use earlier.

'She's married to the head of the swim team,' he admitted. 'It's okay, Michelle, you don't have to be jealous! She dumped me for him the moment he said hi. They moved to Florida years ago.'

'Who's jealous?' Michelle exclaimed, breaking away from him rapidly as someone entered the bathroom. The middle aged Italian matron stared at them curiously, giving Tony a pointed look of disapproval. Taking the hint, he left the room, waiting for Michelle in the last patch of sunshine in the courtyard. Once again his eyes studied the walls, estimating their solidity. Were they as poorly maintained as the rest of the buildings? He desperately hoped so. Michelle would be unable to walk anywhere for another five weeks, but there was no harm in working on his escape plans.

'Don't I get complimented on cleaning the place?' he demanded as she emerged. 'It took the whole day!' His righteous indignation drew a smile to her lips.

'You do. Sweetheart, that was an incredible job! From now on I'll assign you clean-up on a regular basis!'

Tony rolled his head in mock indignation. 'Thanks for the promotion!' he groused. He walked beside her, ready to grab her should she stumble on the uneven surface, his eye on the subdued passengers. He sighed inwardly, aware he would not be able to hide from them much longer. You're gonna have to put your acting talents to use right about now, Almeida! Maybe storming out of the school play was the wrong move. It surely wouldn't have killed you acting a dwarf, rather than the prince! He ran his eye over them slowly, taking in every detail before he turned to Michelle. 'Anyone you wanna warn me about?' he inquired.

'No, they're all fine. I don't think they suspect anything,' she replied, her face expressionless. 'Most of them speak English. There's a few from Australia on their way to visit relatives in Italy and a couple who work in Indonesia or Malaysia on their way home. They're all in shock.'

Tony nodded, having guessed as much from their dejected appearance. 'Give them another day to settle in,' he predicted. 'Then they'll start talking. Just stick to your cover story. Did you get a chance to talk to that woman?'

Michelle threw him a scornful look. 'Of course I did! We worked up a plausible cover for her. She's from Frankfurt, but her parents worked abroad, members of a medical team sent out to various African countries, which is why she speaks English with an American accent. She was sent to an American school for the children of these foreigners…'

Tony nodded. 'Well done. Think she'll pull it off?' It had been a nagging worry in his head whilst he had cleaned the latrines, aware the unknown woman was the weak link in the chain.

'She'll be alright, Tony. She knows they'll kill her and the baby if she cracks.'

'Alright, just keep an eye on her. Make sure she knows she's not alone. You're good at that.'

They parted company as they reached the crowd, Michelle moving to join a young Italian woman who seemed keen on discussing the location of the filming of "The Lord of the Rings", while he moved to the wall, leaning against it with closed eyes. With a bit of luck they would assume he was worn out from the hard work and leave him in peace. It should work, Almeida. You look exhausted, and you stink!

'So how are you coping?' a voice interrupted him, the owner's shadow blocking the last rays of the sun from his head.

Tony opened his eyes reluctantly and nodded his head at the junior pilot who seemed unperturbed by the stench. 'Okay,' he said slowly, opening his mouth again. 'Look, right now you're the only one who knows…'

'I won't tell anyone, I promise you that. That's what I came to tell you,' the man explained to his relief. 'We would have sustained far more structural damage without the undercarriage. Paolo Bonillo,' he introduced himself. 'Full pilot now, I guess, though the promotion is moot. That plane's not going anywhere.'

'You sure about that?' Tony inquired.

'Oh sí. That poor bird is dead now.' He shrugged fatalistically before wandering off in the direction of his compatriots.

Ali appeared directly after he left, firing his rifle into the air. This time everyone turned to him in respectful silence. 'Alright, people, it appears you are learning,' he began, self satisfaction oozing from him. 'It's dinner time. Get yourself a bowl and finish it up fast. The door will be locked in twenty minutes. Come with me, Spaghetti,' he finished, turning to Tony.

Gee Almeida, you're doing your utmost to stay out of the guy's hair, and he just won't quit coming to seek you out. What the hell is it now? He pushed himself away from the wall and followed a few armed militants over the courtyard to the latrines. Ali entered, indicating he should wait outside.

'Good job, Spaghetti,' he began, eyeing him as he stepped back out. 'I'm leaving you responsible for the continued maintenance of this place. It better be like this every evening.'

Tony stared at him in dismay, unable to belief his ill luck.

'I'm waiting,' Ali reminded him.

He nodded an assent. 'Yes sir.'

'Good. It appears as though you are an educated man, Spaghetti. What is your profession?' he demanded.

What the hell was that guy's profession? That's something you'll never know, Almeida. Better tell him something you can do. Tony raised his eyes, deciding on a career. 'I'm an engineer,' he replied.

Ali nodded. 'I thought so. A word of warning, engineer. Keep quiet and do your work, and you'll be fine here. Step out of line, you'll be very sorry.' The last sentence sent a shiver down his back. 'Now go get your dinner.'

Michelle handed him a bowl of the same green slime they had been fed at lunchtime, a look of despair on her face. He took it from her slowly, too weary to thank her. She waited while he struggled through his portion before heading back to the 'bedroom'. Tony remained in the dinner hall a moment longer, head in his hands.

It took all his training to head back over to the well and strip to his underwear, pouring an icy bucket of water over himself. Shivering in the cool breeze he hauled a second bucket to a deserted spot between the latrines and the perimeter fence, grabbing the chance to strip naked and wash his clothes.

'What the hell are you doing, Spaghetti?' demanded an outraged Ali, the guns of his two guards aimed at him.

'Having a shower,' Tony replied, disconcerted. 'Cleaning that place out kinda makes it necessary.'

Ali shook his head. 'You westerners lack no shame. There are women here…'

'No sir, not right here,' he protested.

'One could walk past any minute.'

Tony nodded. 'Yes sir, that's why I'm hurrying. It would really help if you'd provide us a room to wash in and a change of clothes. We all got plenty of stuff in our suitcases back on the plane.'

Ali laughed aloud, spitting on the ground. 'Nobody's going back to that piece of scrap metal,' he decided, his eyes blazing. 'It will rust there, a symbol of our new independence!'

'Ali, we all need a change of clothes. People are going to start getting sick if they can't wash,' he begged.

'I'll organize something,' Ali relented. 'Now get dressed and…your clothes are wet!'

'Yes sir, there was no point washing and putting them back on like that,' Tony explained. He shivered slightly in the strengthening breeze, uncomfortably aware of the rifles aimed at him. Rubbing the drops of water off himself with his t-shirt, he pulled it over his head, bending to collect his boxers.

'Wait. How do you imagine those will dry?' Ali asked, furiously. 'Don't think I'll let you go if you get sick, Spaghetti, it won't happen. You get sick here, you'll die!' He turned and snapped an order at one of his men who disappeared, returning with a large beach towel. 'Wear that tonight!'

'Thanks,' Tony replied, removing his t-shirt and hanging all his clothes on the edge of the well to dry.

'You're a troublemaker, I can see that,' Ali told him to his alarm.

'You're wrong sir. I've always done as I was told,' he lied, his face sincere.

'With a gun to your head, maybe,' Ali retorted, apparently an incredible judge of character. 'Now get back with the others. I'm keeping an eye on you,' he finished, shoving him roughly in the direction of the buildings.

Tony remained silent, filled with foreboding.

Jack stared at the scene which typified a normal day at CTU. People worked hunched over their monitors, Gael left tech one with a disk and two junior analysts gossiped in the rec. room. He sighed in frustration. Tony had been held captive for two days and they were no closer to discovering his location than at the same time twenty four hours ago. He was exhausted, having elected to remain at CTU overnight in the hopes of discovering something concrete. His head sank into his hands as he yawned.

His phone rang persistently until he summoned the strength to raise his head and answered. 'Bauer.'

His caller proved to be Chappelle again, demanding to be informed of any updates. Jack admitted for the fifth time that day that the reason he hadn't called Division was that there simply weren't any updates to report. They had nothing. As far as CTU was concerned, the passengers of flight 3993 had vanished.

Chappelle failed to sympathize, insisting on more concrete information by the following day, without which he would be forced to take action. Jack remained silent, aware that his boss's hands were as tied as his own.

'Sir, if the military would have repositioned their satellites when we asked them, we would now have a detailed map of all the tiny settlements,' he explained, for the second time that afternoon. 'Right now we're still gathering data, but at this stage it's not all that helpful. We have dozens of hotspots in the valleys, all with a coupla hundred civilians. As we have nothing to compare it to, it's going to be a real hard task determining which one is ours. You gotta give us more time.'

Chappelle hung up, as dissatisfied as before.

Rita's arms were warm round the towel as she pressed him close to her for a hug in the darkness. 'You must be real tired, sweetheart,' she whispered, ruffling his hair the way she had since he was a newborn. 'I'm so proud of you. That job needed to be done and only you and your father chose to help us all out.'

He shrugged. 'It had to be done. You meet any interesting people today, mom?' He was aware his mother's natural friendliness led people to open up to her. Should anyone prove suspicious about them, his mother would be the first to know. You ever want a position at CTU mom, you got it.

Her fingers stroked his uncombed hair as she leaned closer to his ear. 'Actually, sweetheart, I took a walk today to check the compound for any structural weakness,' she informed him.

Tony gasped in disbelief. 'You did what? You're no architect!'

'You don't need a degree in architecture to check whether the walls are the same height all the way round,' she informed him sternly. 'Or to check their condition.'

'You tellin' me you checked out the walls in broad daylight in front of Ali and all his nuts?' Tony groaned. 'Mom, what were you thinkin' about? They would've noticed you!'

'Of course,' she said sweetly, not in the least perturbed by his agitation. 'Tony, these people think very little of women. I can go check things none of you could. Ali did ask what I was doing, so I told him I was looking for a spot to hang a washing line.'

Tony choked back a snort of laughter. 'Don't tell me he went for it?'

'Of course he did. I'm a woman; it's natural for me to be interested in household duties. We even picked a spot together behind this locked storeroom just past the kitchen!'

'You wouldn't know what's in that room?' he inquired without much hope.

'It's empty. They stored food there during the time they used this place to supply the Mujahaden fighters in Afghanistan,' she explained.

His forehead crinkled in a puzzled frown. 'How…'

'I asked,' his mother said, stroking his cheek. 'Don't frown, sweetheart, it'll encourage the formation of wrinkles. How else can you discover something if you don't ask?'

Tony settled on the floor between her and his sleeping father. 'I didn't think he was Mujahaden.'

'He's not; he just supplied them during the war. He's far more religious, apparently. He belongs to the Taliban.'

'Mom, why would he possibly have told you that?' he wondered.

'Oh, I boasted about your grandfather's accomplishments in the Spanish Civil War,' she explained. 'Maybe I exaggerated about the harsh conditions he faced in the mountains slightly, but Ali felt the need to prove he's even braver. I thought you'd like me to discover as much as possible about him!'

Tony rubbed his face vigorously. 'I didn't know Grandpa went over to fight,' he muttered. 'Why didn't you tell me? I thought he was home collecting his antique coins.' He glared at Rita, the ferocity of his expression lost in the darkness.

'Don't frown at me, Antonio,' she whispered sternly, guessing at his reaction. 'Your grandfather felt very strongly about events back then and he used his own resources to get across, so well….'

'Well what?' he demanded, a headache beginning in his temple. 'Look mom, I had to undergo rigorous security clearances before I got into CTU. They questioned me about every kinda insignificant crap…'

'Antonio!'

'Sorry, mom. Insignificant event, I mean. They even brought Luis Torres up, asked what I felt about him. Why wouldn't they ask about Grandpa, then?'

Rita drew him towards her, smoothing out his forehead. 'Because they never knew he went across,' she said logically. 'Tony, he was accused of certain crimes… His own side, the Nationalists, asked him to leave! Uncle Roland knew someone who altered a few papers. As far as anyone is concerned, he never left the States!'

He shook his head in defeat. Even Hammond, who looked into everything didn't know about that. He would've loved it! 'Just what exactly was Grandpa supposed to have done?'

Rita shook her head gently. 'He never told me, sweetheart, and I didn't try asking. He was always a fantastic father to me, and I was born long after he returned…I didn't want to know. Those people he massacred won't come back no matter how many times I could say sorry, so it's best left untouched. Right now we got more pressing problems of our own. Get some sleep, sweetheart.'

Tony lay on his back wrapped in the sheepskins, peering up at the moon through a crack in the ceiling. It was huge, lighting up the entire sky, reminding him of the times he had camped out in the desert during his military career. His heart ached for the warm camaraderie he had established with his platoon of snipers. Yet again he offered up a silent prayer for the safety of those few who had re-enlisted. His prayers turned to their own plight, begging God to offer them some miraculous rescue. The filth and lack of food were already weakening the crowd, though few were aware of it apart from him. His greatest fear was that by the time Michelle's leg would heal sufficiently to attempt an escape; malnutrition would have taken its toll on their health. He sighed, focusing on the moon, the same moon that would light LA a couple of hours later. Leaving one of his men behind was something that went against the grain for Tony Almeida, something he had never done in his entire history of combat. Leaving a civilian behind was too low to contemplate. Better start planning how to carry some sick or injured civilians then, Almeida.

"La luna. She's beautiful isn't she, m'ijo? A lovely lamp in the sky. She's faithful; she'll go with you wherever you travel. When you see her, you'll know you're not alone." He squeezed his eyes shut in a hurry as he was regularly forced to do whenever he remembered his father's father. Why did you die, Abuelo? You weren't sick! You should be here with us – you might even be able to connect with these Stone Age nuts. If anyone in the world could speak to them, it would be you. He wiped his eyes, glad of the anonymity offered by the darkness. "There's a time for everything, m'ijo," his grandfather had explained, sensing something on his final visit to the farm in Mexico. "This is our time to spend together, to work and talk and then later we'll make time to rest. I'm going to rest soon now, but know that I will always be with you. You're a good person, Tony." He stirred restlessly, choking back a sob.

He would have a little discussion with his maternal grandfather on his return, he decided, if for nothing else than a burning desire to know what had happened. "You got a lot of your mother's family in you, m'ijo. I could never command men…" Tony rolled over, pulling a loose piece of sheepskin over his head. No, Papa. You wouldn't have said that if you knew about him! I hope you were thinking of the rest of them…

'Will you stop wriggling,' Michelle mumbled sleepily, placing an arm on his stomach.

Tony kissed her, placing his head beside hers. 'Goodnight, sweetheart.'