Alexander Filipov sipped his glass of vodka, his eyes flickering aimlessly to the world map as he contemplated what a truly large part of the planet was consumed by water. Once again he studied the email that had been forwarded to him from his boss in Moscow from MI5 that morning, informing him they had tracked an American agent onto an Aeroflot flight the day before, requesting that he be detained the moment he stepped off the plane. Filipov shrugged fatalistically, unsurprised that his counterpart in Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow had failed to recognize the American in time, writing him frantically to intercept him the moment the smaller Tupolyev landed in Dushanbe. Filipov finished his drink and reluctantly decided against pouring himself a second as his counterpart had informed him that the flight had actually left on time, for once. He opened his drawer and pulled a pistol out, placing it in his gun belt before he cast another bored look at the surrounding mountains. They were truly beautiful, he agreed with everyone who insisted they were; only he failed to understand their point. To him they were cold; home to dangerous rebels, reminding him of two miserable years spent traipsing up and down icy slopes during his national service. Not that his currant job of security officer in Dushanbe airport was much better, if he was honest. Not a blessed hint of excitement came his way as he occupied himself collecting a library and studying three foreign languages. Once again he studied Jack's photo, unable to comprehend why an American agent wished to visit the place.

'Jack Bauer,' he said, stepping before the American who cast him a nervous glance. 'Please don't worry; I'm not here to arrest you. I just need to ask you a few questions.' Seeing the American remained unconvinced he tried again. 'Your boss, a Rian Cha pell' he frowned at the printed copy of his email, 'is keen to speak with you.'

'Look, I haven't the time,' Jack began, seeking to sidestep him.

'Mr. Bauer, I am not your enemy. My country's help was requested in this investigation; should I fail to connect you to your boss I will be prosecuted by my own people. Please.'

Jack sighed and nodded. 'Lead the way,' he muttered, following the thirty something year-old Russian across the small terminal. He settled onto an imitation leather armchair and faced the Russian, noting the sparse furnishing of the office.

'We know you came here without informing anyone of your itinerary,' Filipov began, tapping a pen against his desk. 'What are you doing in Dushanbe, Mr. Bauer?' Jack remained silent. 'Mr. Bauer, once you call your boss, he will most likely insist I detain you. I have no wish to interfere in your business. If you let me know what you're seeking, I might even let you go.'

Jack sighed. 'Fine. Remember that Alitalia flight that crashed? My colleague was on it, and I have reason to believe he's being tortured as we speak. I'm going to get him out.'

Filipov's mouth fell open; he closed it in a hurry. 'You wish to cross the mountains and walk unarmed into a militant stronghold?' he questioned incredulously.

'That's about it, yes,' Jack agreed.

'Oh shit. You'd never make it through the mountains.'

'I have GPS…'

'It won't show you the areas of loose rock, or the hidden mines. And unarmed…'

'Not unarmed,' Jack said.

'Oh, I see. Ivan's selling you something. But still, you won't make it. You'd need a guide familiar with Afghanistan and…A little part of the Pakistani border!' He stared at Jack, his excitement rising. 'How can you know your colleague is alive?'

'Satellite showed him tied in front of some mosque,' Jack admitted. 'That's the last we saw of him. Mr. Filipov, you must excuse me, I'm running out of time.'

'You are,' the Russian agreed, collecting his jacket. 'Let's go get your stuff from Ivan and I'll get my car. I'll drive you part of the way.'

The door opened abruptly, Ali entering to yank Michelle out. 'Move,' he snapped as she struggled vigorously, kicking him in the knee. 'Bitch,' he yelped, ordering a guard to secure her.

Rita rushed after them, forcing him to stop. 'Where are you taking her?' she demanded, her voice thrown back by the surrounding walls.

'To your son,' Ali replied, giving her a shove. 'Useless bastard is too sick to talk.'

The blood froze in their veins as they stared at him, Michelle forgetting about the guard's hands on her arms. 'What's wrong with him?' she demanded.

'He has typhus. Rashid decided the sight of you might pull him from his delirium long enough to speak.'

'Wait,' Rita begged, her maternal instincts fully aroused, grabbing his arm. 'Typhus is serious; it should be treated with antibiotics immediately. Please let me go to him, I'm a nurse.'

Ali shook his head, motioning to the guards to move Michelle. 'Not yet. Rashid wants the wife first. You're next; if he decides her life is unimportant.'

'I'll help him,' Michelle assured her, leaning on her stick as the men pushed her forward. 'Is it infectious?' she inquired, aware of her woeful lack of knowledge of the disease.

'No. It's passed by fleas that live off rats. You succumb quickly to infection should you be in a weakened condition. Keep his fever down, give him plenty to drink and bathe his rashes. Ali, do what you like to me, but give my son antibiotics. Please.' She met his eyes, shuddering at the emptiness within them. Wordless he pushed past her, a guard forcing her back inside the women's chamber while Michelle was bundled into a car.

An infection spread by rats' fleas. Michelle frowned in concentration, attempting to recall a history class about some epidemic caused by rats, black ones in particular. 'The plague,' she gasped, horrified.

Ali shook his head. 'There is no plague in the mountains. In India yes, not here! Typhus is not so serious.'

'It is to the victim,' she retorted, preparing herself for the sight of a desperately sick Tony. 'You've got to get him medicines, Ali. Your own people will be the first to tell you Tony's important. They'd shoot you if you let him die.' Her words struck a chord with Ali, whose frown deepened. 'You know I'm not lying to you,' she continued, pressing her point. 'You haven't discovered anything yet, and you've been questioning him for three days now. They'll execute you as a traitor soon.'

Jack's hand tightened round the Kalashnikov as the car slowed just outside the drab town of Vrang, pulling over before a soldier. Filipov threw him a quick look. 'Put it away, you won't need it,' he assured him, stepping out of the car. 'Dobri dyen,' he greeted the young soldier, pulling out his card.

A long argument in Russian followed, the soldier shaking his head vigorously, Filipov gesticulating in the direction of the mountains, both sides refusing to back down. Jack clutched the gun, fingers itching. There was no way he would be turned back at this stage; Tony's life depended on him arriving in the immediate future.

Filipov returned, poking his head through the window. 'This is not a legal border crossing,' he informed Jack, who nodded impatiently. 'He is reluctant to allow us to enter Afghanistan - however…Have you any dollars on you?' He gazed hopefully at Jack.

'Yes,' Jack said, pulling out his wallet. 'How much would he need?'

The soldier appeared and Filipov pushed the wallet closed in a hurry, handing him a hundred dollar note. The soldier's eyes lit up before he stared in the car, holding out his palm. 'Two hundred,' he said in heavily accented English, eyeing the car's occupant hopefully. Jack handed him another hundred and the soldier nodded his thanks, pocketing the notes in a flash. A short burst of talk followed and Filipov nodded, starting the engine.

'We can drive only another forty kilometers, before we reach the Pakistani border,' he translated, driving rapidly. 'After that you must walk, and forget about the trails, they're all mined!'

'All the trails?' Jack questioned in dismay, aware of the difficulty of climbing over bare rock face.

'Not all of them, no. Most of them.'

'Could you give me a map?' Jack begged, determined to reach Tony in a hurry.

'A map on paper, no. There is no map,' Filipov assured him with his customary fatalistic shrug. 'The map is in here.' He pointed to his head. They studied each other in silence before Filipov spoke. 'Your colleague will not live long, if they humiliated him in public. They kill after that. You shouldn't waste time.' A silence ensued as he parked the car by the side of the track. 'I always wanted to move to America, Mr. Bauer,' he began, startling Jack. 'Thing is, I get rejected every year. They don't want me.' A pained look crossed his face. 'You sort out my visa, find me a nice warm place with no mountains, and I'll recall my time in this miserable dump and get you all the way into Pakistan,' he concluded, leaning against the car.

Ali entered first, flashlight in hand, shining it on the man who lay curled into a tight ball, face against the stone floor. Michelle paused in the doorway, horrified. 'Tony,' she whispered, pushing past Ali in her haste to reach him. He showed no indication of her presence, his skin burning to her touch. 'Ali, get him something for the fever right now,' she demanded furiously, rolling him over. Shaking hands reached for his pulse, before she gasped, bile flooding her throat. 'What have you done to his hands?'

Ali shrugged. 'I'll let you clean him up,' he told her. 'Once he comes round, explain to him that unless he cooperates with us, we'll kill you.' He smiled at her as he left, his teeth gleaming.

Hot tears spilled from her eyes as she removed Tony's clothes, noting the myriad red rashes covering his stomach. His back was too badly lacerated to note anything other than deep slashes covered by dried blood. She dabbed them with the clean cloth they had handed her, cleaning it off as best she could, each finished area revealing dozens of slashes across each other. She suppressed her sobs with difficulty, concentrating on speaking to him softly, whispering sweet nothings, begging him to open his eyes.

'I can't, sweetheart, they're too swollen,' he muttered, startling her. Dropping the cloth she threw herself across him, distressed by the whimper her action generated.

'Tony, I'm so sorry,' she apologized, her curls brushing his neck. 'Sweetheart, what did they do to you?'

He stirred beneath her, searching for her hand. 'Just about everything,' he muttered, burying his head deeper into her lap.

The door opened and she felt him tense, his heart rate increasing. She wrapped her arms round his neck, brushing his cheek with a hand. 'Leave him alone, Ali. I won't let you touch him again!' she warned. She would rip him apart barehanded were he to approach Tony.

'Fine by me,' Ali agreed, eyeing them enviously. 'Like you said, I'd be in trouble were he to die without informing us of the access codes. Mr. Almeida, listen to me carefully. You're very sick, you'll die without medication. I'll bring you some and let you join the rest of the passengers if you give me the codes.'

Tony remained silent, trembling under Michelle's touch.

Ali frowned impatiently. 'If you don't talk, I'll punish your wife,' he decided, grabbing Michelle by an arm and jerking her to the door. 'Rashid. Take her outside and whip her. I'll bring him to watch.'

Her heart skipped a beat as she attempted to claw him. He moved, slapping her across the face, her head slamming against the door.

'No. Wait.' Tony stirred, unable to rise.

They paused, the silence stretching. 'You ready to talk, Almeida?' Rashid asked breathless.

'No Tony, you can't!' Michelle cried in alarm.

'Take my wife back to the compound this minute,' Tony whispered, his instruction clear despite his inability to raise his voice above a croak.

'Tony, you can't be serious?' Michelle begged, scratching Rashid as he attempted to push her from the room. 'You…'

'Go, sweetheart. Go home right now, it's an order,' he gasped, eyeing her meaningfully. She stared at him, narrowing her eyes. 'Go home,' he repeated clearly as she was dragged from the room.

The outer door slammed behind her and the reluctant guard dragged him over to the chair, depositing him a little more gently. 'It starts with C,' he began, forcing his brain to work for a final few minutes.

'I got it,' Hassan told him. 'What's next?'

'Numbers,' Tony said. '1993467 B.' B for bullshit. Enough shit to keep you occupied for a coupla days! He prayed Michelle would understand his instructions and leave that day, whatever it took.

'It's asking for a password,' Hassan said, eyes sparkling in triumph. 'Dog?'

'Vacation,' Tony muttered, telling himself he could close his eyes and rest in another minute.

Yells of triumph kept him awake as all three men bent over the computer. 'You done good, dog,' Hassan told him. 'I'll give you a sheepskin to sleep on and something for that fever.' He clapped Ali on the shoulder, exchanging smiles.

'You said you'd take me back to my family,' Tony protested.

'As soon as we got everything,' Ali promised. 'We might need to ask something. Your family is quite safe, I assure you.'

Adam hastened over to Tech one, bending low over Gael's console. 'We just received the C code,' he whispered urgently. 'The data's being accessed as we speak.' Anxious eyes searched his colleague's as Gael confirmed his findings.

'Aha,' he muttered, lips narrowed. 'Tony's at his end. He's bought his family an extra day, two at the maximum. I'll call Jack on the sat. phone. He'll need to hurry. Adam, this stays between us, right?'

Adam nodded indignantly. 'Of course. I'll get back to work before Alberta comes looking for me.' They shared a long suffering look and he left Gael alone in the semi darkness.

He called Jack waiting patiently for his answer. 'C code's been activated,' he informed him. 'Hurry, Jack.'

Once he hung up he found himself unable to concentrate on the mundane task scheduled for the day, giving in to his urge to pace the room. Dozens of memories of trips to the Almeida house filled his mind as he returned to the console, found the C code and pressed the delete button, removing all trace of its activation. Once it was done he leaned against the wall, pressing his eyes shut, praying Jack would arrive on time to save anything.

The phone's repeated ring pulled him back to the present. 'Ortega,' he answered, hoping desperately it wasn't Alberta. For a moment it appeared his hopes were realized. The voice that demanded to know what the hell was happening at CTU definitely wasn't female. 'I'll go find her, Mr. Chappelle,' he promised, pausing as the irate boss snapped a final order into the phone. 'Yes sir, I'll be there too.'

Gael rolled his eyes as he set off in search of Alberta, who was bound to be in some obscure corner of the office hassling people on their coffee break. So Chappelle's on his way to CTU. And he wants to speak to YOU as well as Alberta. He stopped before the door, fingers wrapped round the handle, picturing himself in both the older blue prison uniform and the newer fluorescent orange one. Blue's better. Face it Ortega, orange is not your color! He groaned under his breath.

Tony sank onto the sheepskin they had provided shivering. Someone threw a second skin over him and he buried his face inside it, seeking oblivion. Yet again he was interrupted, this time by Hassan returning with a tin mug of water and three white tablets. 'Open your mouth, dog,' he instructed. 'It's been decided you're quite useful. I brought you two aspirins and some antibiotics.' Tony ignored him, reveling in the feeling of warmth spreading through his limbs.

Hassan gave a cluck of irritation and forced his mouth open, placed the tablets in and poured water after them. Tony was left with no option but to swallow them all before they left him alone after prizing his mouth open and poking inside.

Once they left he pressed his eyes tighter together. He had a duty to protect Michelle but right then opening his eyes proved beyond him. The utmost he could manage before he lost consciousness was a prayer begging for her safety as she attempted the breakout and another prayer that the terrorists would take at least two days to realize they were being fed false information. The world dimmed as he slipped away.

'He's dying, Marco,' Michelle said, her eyes searching the yard anxiously as she had flagrantly disobeyed the order to keep to the women's half and had crossed defiantly to speak to him. 'He told them something, I only hope it wasn't anything vital…He said we should go today.'

Marco nodded, his hand fingering the knife below his shirt. 'Are the women prepared?' he inquired rapidly, noting the arrival of several armed militants.

She nodded hurriedly. 'As well as they can be.'

'Get them inside,' he snapped, turning to face an indignant Ali.

'What the hell are you doing here, bitch?' he snapped outraged, grabbing Michelle by her hair.

'You let her go, Ali, and deal with a man, unless you're too cowardly to fight like one,' Marco snapped.

Ali stared at him shocked before he lunged towards him, abandoning Michelle. Marco withdrew the knife in one fluid movement, amazed how well his training returned to him and plunged it into Ali's stomach. 'That's for hurting my son,' he said, pushing the horrified Michelle behind him as he snatched Ali's gun.

Gunshots rang through the courtyard, the walls throwing back the sound. Passengers screamed and fell on the ground while Marco took aim and blew three militants away in quick succession, his mind blank.

'Alright, go,' he snapped, noting extra men race from the walls. 'Get the women moving. I'll cover you.'

'What about?' Michelle began, reluctant to leave him.

'Go now,' he snapped, his tone so identical to Tony's that she jumped into action, yelling at the women to follow her. To her surprise they obeyed without question, racing across the courtyard to the gate left open by the surprised militants. Quite a few men joined her too, having decided it was more prudent to run. She hastened along leaning on her stick, cursing her leg.

'Keep moving to the mountains and wait for us,' she yelled, forced to admit she was unable to keep up the pace. She slowed, Rita joining her to offer support. 'Rita go, I'll join you,' she begged, aware the men could shoot Marco any second and would be free to pursue them.

'I will not,' Rita exclaimed indignantly. 'Wait. Shh.' She grabbed Michelle, forcing her back against the wall as a man hurried past without noticing them. Michelle nodded her head at his gun, slamming him across the back with her stick. Rita grabbed his rifle before he was able to rise.

'Shoot him, Rita,' Michelle whispered, noting him stagger to his feet and head towards her, arm outstretched. 'Shoot him!'

Rita hesitated a second longer, never having fired a gun in her life. Michelle's frantic instructions echoed in her ear as the man approached, eyes narrowed. Her heart beat faster as she recognized him as the one who had brought Ali the whip to hurt her husband. Squeezing the trigger she fired a round, blowing a hole in his thigh. The rifle fell from her shaking hand as she stared at the writhing body in disbelief.

Michelle hobbled over, lifted the rifle and slammed him over the head. 'It's better this way,' she said to her shaken mother-in-law. 'I'm going back to help Marco. We got another rifle.'

'Sweetheart, no! Your leg is hurt,' Rita protested.

'Marco's going to need back-up,' Michelle replied, and they crept back, Michelle taking out another two men from behind in quick succession. The remaining two turned to search for the new source of fire, taken out by Marco who sheltered behind the open door of the kitchen.

'Marco, it's over. We got them. Come out,' Michelle yelled, Rita stiffening beside her. 'He's okay,' she whispered to the trembling woman. He's okay because he's gotta be!

'Marco, come out,' Rita pleaded, heading past the rows of fallen bodies without noticing them as anything more than obstacles in her desperate search. 'Marco, where are you?' Hot tears worked their way down her face.

'Querida, I'm coming. It's okay, I'm fine. They didn't get me,' he called to her in Spanish, taking her into his arms. 'It's okay now,' he repeated, stroking her hair.

'I shot someone,' she whispered to him in disbelief. 'Marco, he was coming for the rifle…'

'You did great,' he assured her, hugging her tighter. 'Look how many I killed.' He gazed at the scene of carnage in disbelief, turning her face into his shoulder to shield her from the view.

'They were all dangerous,' Michelle told him, having understood part of that final sentence. 'They were terrorists,' she repeated, tugging his arm. 'We got to go, there'll be more soon.'

Marco nodded, disentangling himself from his wife's arms. 'Sweetheart, listen to me. I'm going to get Tony. You two start heading into the mountains and wait for us.'

'I'm coming with you,' Michelle said in a hurry, clutching her rifle.

Marco shook his head gently. 'Under normal circumstances I'd welcome your help, but your leg is broken, sweetie. It'll take you long enough to just get up to the mountains. Besides, the rest of the group is unprotected. Gather a coupla rifles and take them. The more firepower we have, the better. They're not just gonna let us leave.' He hugged his wife tighter, his fingers massaging her head. 'Go now, honey.'

'I'm so scared,' she admitted, clinging to him for a final second, terrified she would never see either him or Tony again.

'Have I ever let you down?' he asked, tilting her chin. A moment passed between them, two pairs of brown eyes moistening. Michelle swallowed a lump in her throat, wishing she and Tony would feel as close after whoever knew how many years of marriage. 'I'm not gonna let you down now either, sweetheart. I'm going to find our son, and we're all going home together!' He deposited a final kiss on her forehead before he turned and hastened from the gate, heading towards town, the rifle clutched in his arms.