Tony paused, turning back along the path. Sheer rock rose on his left, a bottomless crevice on his right as he frowned in concentration. An eagle soared above the little group throwing a shadow momentarily over the path, as silent as the mountains. Grey clouds blanketed the sky threatening further snow. A hand laid on his arm pulled him from his reverie.

'You okay, sweetheart?' Michelle asked, concerned for his slowing pace.

Tony chewed his lip, aware he was holding up the entire group. 'Yeah,' he said, his gaze retracing their path.

'So what's wrong?' she demanded, not to be shaken off. 'What's behind us, Tony? Can you hear anything?'

He shook his head, turning to face the others. 'No honey.' You can't hear anything, Almeida, it's as silent as the grave, but they're closing in on you. You can sense them! Best move it. He grinned at her, nodding forwards. 'Let's keep moving.' Michelle sensed something despite the lightness of his tone and grasped her stick, struggling onward. Head spinning with dizziness he followed, cursing his inability to help her.

They stopped to consider their position a little further, Marco unsure which path to choose. The walk through the lower slopes was sure to be easier on all of them but he saw signs of habitation and was wary of drawing further attention to themselves. They would be safer remaining where they were provided the path actually led anywhere rather than merely to the edge of a precipice. 'What do you think?' he inquired, moving aside to allow the others to examine the terrain.

Michelle chewed her lip, eyeing the valley longingly. Her leg ached from the constant movement, her hand was rubbed raw leaning on her walking stick and she was exhausted as well as terrified Hassan would catch up to them. Using all her self control she turned towards the higher path. 'It's safer that way. Shorter too.'

Tony slipped his arm round her, marveling at her stamina. He himself longed to curl up in the nearest available cave and sleep, after eating a good dinner, naturally. The sight of smoke rising from the distant huts reminded him none of them had eaten for four days. 'She's right, Papa. It's safer and shorter this way.'

Marco nodded, eyeing them intently. 'Alright, we'll move a little further. We need to find some shelter real soon and have a little break.'

'Papa,' Tony began, joining him.

'I know, m'ijo. I've seen you looking back a couple of times already. Stands to reason they're following us, but if we don't take a break you and Michelle will keel over. That wouldn't help us either. Tell you what. Take the lead; find a cave and hole up. I'll join you all later.'

'Where are you going?' he demanded, afraid he knew the answer.

'I'll bring us a little food,' his father explained. 'We need to eat, Tony. There's no way we'll get through another few weeks without food.'

'And what if they capture you?' he demanded, terrified at the thought. 'Papa…'

'They won't,' Marco replied firmly. 'I'll be in and out, trust me. Just find us some shelter.'

He turned, working his way down the path. Tony watched him with aching heart, desperately worried about him. Michelle and Rita rested further up the path, obviously waiting for him. Tony forced his emotions aside and followed them, his eyes searching the cliffs for an incline. Less than half an hour later he found a small cave, motioning them inside once he'd determined it was empty.

The air was chilly in such high altitudes despite the lack of wind. He left their mug outside to guide his father and sank onto his knees at the back of the cave too weary to speak. His bones ached from the sickness, his back stung, each breath reminding him of his whipping. Taking care not to use his hands he lowered himself to the floor, shutting his eyes. Michelle settled beside him rubbing his arm, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

'Tony, let me put the rug under you,' Rita said gently, hating the need to disturb him. Carefully she helped raise him, sliding the rug beneath him and Michelle. 'Get some rest. I'll keep an eye out for Marco.'

Tony drifted off, wishing the pain would disappear while he slept.

Marco entered the first shed, filling a sack with a few vegetables and a handful of logs before he crept to the henhouse. He pushed open a door, hearing birds stir uneasily on their perches. He spoke to them soothingly as he selected the largest hen. Just as in his childhood he grabbed it expertly, hands over its beak and hurried it out. It was bound to be missed in the morning, but seeing that Hassan was behind them he was hardly betraying their position. He knocked it on the head stunning it temporarily as he crept from the settlement. A silvery moon lit the way back to the mountains as he rejoined his family. 'I need that sharp knife, querida,' he said, entering the cave.

Tony stirred, his eyes opening wide at the sight of the live hen. 'Papa…'

'They know all about us anyway, Antonio. We're going to eat well tonight.'

'Are we eating that?' Michelle questioned foolishly. 'But it's, it's still alive.'

'Not for much longer, sweetie,' Marco assured her, taking their sharpest knife.

'You're not going to kill it, are you?' she exclaimed, a little shocked.

Marco bit his lip, nodding.

'You better believe it,' Tony told her, amused. 'How are we cooking it, Papa?'

'I brought some wood. Start a fire. I'll be back directly.'

Michelle struggled to her leg, groping for her walking stick. 'Tony, he'll hurt that hen.'

'Sweetheart, he won't. He's done it before. Come here, Michelle. Every chicken I cook has to be killed, you know that.' He glanced at her gently, willing her to relax.

'But at least it doesn't look at you,' she protested, hungry and sick at the same time. 'And what is he going to do with the feathers?'

'He'll pull them off, don't you worry about that!'

'You feel sick first, I know,' Rita said, slipping an arm round the white faced Michelle. 'Just don't look, honey. Oh, here he comes.'

Despite herself she was unable to resist a stare at the beheaded chicken, its feet dangling down Marco's back. Her stomach heaved and she clutched Tony's shoulder, humiliated. Get a grip, Michelle. People have been doing this for thousands of years. You're starving, you need to eat. Somehow, she knew roast chicken was not going to be on the menu once she returned home for an extremely long time, if ever. Pull yourself together this minute. They're going to think you're an idiot!

Tony tightened his arm about her cursing his inability to use his hands. Never before was the need to squeeze her hand more acute, and he was left with nothing beyond pulling her onto his lap. 'It's okay, sweetheart,' he muttered soothingly, aware her leg was in agony.

'Michelle, come here sweetie,' Marco said a few minutes later, holding out his hand. I've removed the feathers and disemboweled it. It's like a chicken from the shop now. Let's cook it.' His soothing tone relaxed her and she hobbled over to the fire to join him as he pushed the chicken through a large stick and held it over the flames. 'Pity we've only got a little wood. Normally I'd build a spit, but I just couldn't carry anything else up here.'

'You done great,' she praised, highly relieved at the sight of a 'normal' chicken roasting over the fire. 'Thanks. I don't know how much further I'd have gone without food.'

'I don't know how much further any of us could have gone without food,' Marco told her gently. 'Mind holding this a minute, Rita? I'll be back directly.'

Tony followed him outside, watching him collect the head and the feathers and bury them beneath a rock. A little snow was thrown over the blood and Marco nodded, satisfied. 'How's that, Antonio?'

'Great. You know, I can't think of anyone in the world I'd rather have on such a trip than you, Papa.' I really love you. He moved restlessly, wincing as the t-shirt rubbed his back.

'Hang in there, m'ijo. They'll give you something for the pain soon,' Marco encouraged, squeezing his shoulder. 'Come on, let's get some chicken!'

Brad Hammond entered Chappelle's office, puffing from the climb. 'Got a minute, Ryan?' he inquired, seeing his colleague appeared occupied with little more pressing than the morning paper.

'Sure,' Chappelle said, nodding his head at a seat. 'What's up, Brad?'

Hammond settled, the chair creaking as it took his weight. 'How much longer is CTU to be run without a director?' he inquired, the question justifiable. 'Alberta's got way too much on her plate without running there all the time.'

'You got a point,' Chappelle agreed.

'Fact is, the place is doing less each day now that Bauer is also absent. We should appoint a strong person to run the place, someone who'll pull the departments together and remind people who they're working for. Half the group appears to think they're working for Bauer or Almeida personally, rather than the U.S. government!'

Chappelle nodded, aware of the strong sense of loyalty CTU's leaders enjoyed. 'You're right, Brad. I thought we'd give Bauer another week to return with Almeida, and should he fail to do so…'

'You're delaying yet again, Ryan. Fact is, Clive's more than ready to take over. He's looking for a position as director right now. He's thinking of San Francisco, but his talents could be put to better use right here. He's more than capable of pulling things together.'

Chappelle nodded. 'And you'd doubtless miss him were he to move, Brad.'

Hammond scowled. 'Are you implying I'm biased in my selection, Ryan? Sure he's my nephew, but he's proven himself capable in Oregon…'

'No one's implying anything,' Chappelle soothed him. 'Fact is, we must give Almeida another fortnight to return. After that, the position goes to Clive.'

Hammond left well satisfied. His nephew was to be promoted Director in charge of CTU and would foster a much more workable relationship between that department and Division. He poured himself a scotch, celebrating his nephew's fortune.

Chappelle sighed and returned to his car prepared to interrogate Gael personally. That he was aware of the whereabouts of Bauer was certain. He would confront him with the sat. phone they had discovered in his locker the previous day. Doubtless after a day of solitary confinement with full sensory deprivation he would be more than willing to talk.

They devoured the chicken and a handful of vegetables between them, mouths watering. No chicken he had ever eaten had tasted half as good as the one they had all taken turns cooking (with the exception of Tony), who had been forced to contend himself with watching it roast, swallowing in anticipation of the feast. Unable to use his hands to feed himself he was forced to rely on Michelle tearing a few pieces apart and placing them in his mouth. 'Didn't last real long,' he observed wryly once the last scrap had been sucked from the bones. 'That hen wouldn't have had any siblings by any chance, Papa?'

Michelle grinned, a lot happier since her stomach was free of the gnawing hunger. 'Did you notice a twin, Marco?' He grinned back at her, shaking his head.

'We should get some sleep tonight. We leave at dawn, before the rightful owners of that hen come visit us,' he said lightly, resulting in a giggle from Michelle.

'Oh they can visit,' Tony remarked, also a lot happier since the meal. 'We'll say thanks. I might even have a dollar. Remember that poem about the fox grabbing the grey goose, mom? He left a dollar too!'

Michelle shook with silent laughter while he grinned at her pleased with his ability to cheer her. 'We made mom read that poem over and over again. Eventually she just showed us the pictures and recited the whole thing. I caught her at it when she forgot to turn a page!' He exchanged warm grins with Rita. 'I guess we should get some sleep. I can take sentry duty tonight, Papa.'

'Forget it,' Marco said sternly. 'You're still sick, Tony. You got fever.'

'I can stay up.'

'Get your rest. Tomorrow will be hard if this path keeps winding uphill. Sleep now, Antonio.'

Tony nodded, hating his poor condition. He rose from his spot beside the dying fire, a sharp pain slicing through his back. Its unexpected sting caught him by surprise causing him to curse aloud. His family surrounded him seconds later, lowering him on the rug. 'Let me see your back, sweetheart,' Rita ordered, removing his t-shirt as slowly as possible to avoid causing him further discomfort.

Michelle's gasp confirmed what he suspected. The t-shirt was stuck to his back where an exceptionally deep slash had reopened. Shivering in the cold he raised his eyes to meet his mother's. 'It's okay, mom.'

'No it's not,' she replied in a shaky voice. 'I'll melt a little snow to wash off that blood, sweetheart. Stay beside Michelle.' She left and he turned to notice the temporary relaxation caused by the festive air over the meal had left her eyes. Michelle face reflected their grim reality yet again.

'It'll heal, sweetheart,' Tony said gently, desperately hoping he was right. 'It's already a lot better…' The failure of his words of encouragement was evidenced by a slow course of tears running down her cheeks. He pulled her into his arms, his head resting on her shoulder. 'Hey, sweetheart. You're in as much pain as I am, don't think I've forgotten.' She shook her head, her curls brushing his face. 'Michelle, we got away with our lives. In the end, that's all that counts,' he said softly, wishing yet again he had the use of his hands. 'We'll get some treatment at home and we'll be fine, and we'll have fun recuperating together. We'll finally have the time to watch all those soppy movies…'

Michelle snorted indignantly, temporarily distracted. 'You telling me you're offering to watch all my newest romantic movies with me, Tony?'

He nodded firmly. 'You got my word on it,' he promised. 'It's not as though I can bear to let you outa my sight, honey.'

Her smile melted his heart. 'I love you, sweetheart.'

'Me too, honey.'

She stirred restlessly. 'You seem so sure we'll get home,' she said tiredly. 'We got some awful mountains to pass, and Hassan and his men to evade, and we're out of food…'

'It'll be okay, sweetheart. You'll get to pick the movies, it's a promise.' You're getting home whatever happens, sweetheart, I'll make sure of that.

Gael squeezed his eyes shut against the intolerable brightness a normal light caused after 36 hours of sensory deprivation. Lacking the ability to open them he focused on his sense of hearing instead, counting around two men in his room. Something was laid on a table and a person settled on a chair after scraping it along the floor. The other person took up position beside the door. An interrogator and the customary security guard, then, he assumed correctly.

'Open your eyes, Ortega. The time for games has passed,' Chappelle's icy tone informed him. 'We found the sat. phone in your locker yesterday. I'm certain Bauer also took a sat. phone and that you've been in contact. Now tell me how I can get in touch with him and I'll overlook your indiscretions.'

Gael blinked, his eyes watering.

'The camp is now empty. We no longer have the option of terminating Almeida should he be broken. We have no idea of his whereabouts, so the only option we are left with is to make certain Bauer makes contact. The situation is serious now.'

Gael stared at him struggling to read anything from his expression. 'He'd get to the group a lot faster with our guidance.'

Chappelle nodded. 'I need to get into contact with him immediately.'

'You're actually authorizing CTU to assist Jack?' he questioned dubiously.

'I'm a realist, Ortega. We must. We have no other alternative.'

Gael studied him in silence for a few seconds, noting the anxious set of eyes gazing into his own. He nodded, making up his mind. 'I'll get you in contact with him,' he promised, 'in exchange for being reinstated as of this moment.'

'You can't be reinstated, Ortega as you were never officially suspended,' Chappelle pointed out wryly. 'Now get me in contact with Bauer before I reconsider.'

One more step, Almeida, just one more. Keep moving, one foot before the other. Just one more step…

'Marco, wait,' Michelle called, her voice echoing by the sheer rock face that loomed on their left. 'Tony's falling behind.'

You're slowing them down again, Almeida. You deserve to be tossed over that precipice. Hassan and his men are closing in on you.

They stopped, Rita pushing him down. 'Take a minute, sweetheart.' Anxious eyes searched his as she summed up his condition. He's reached his limit. He's beyond it, in fact.

Tony read her face as easily as he had throughout his life, throwing her a warning look. We both know I'm failing, mom. Keep it to yourself for a bit longer, okay, until we catch up with the rest of the group. He had no logical explanation for his desire to rejoin the group. They had abandoned him to his fate once before, yet the thought of joining them kept him struggling onward, a step at a time. "You gotta set yourselves reachable goals," his instructor had explained back when he first joined the Marines. "Don't attempt to conquer the entire desert alone. Take it settlement by settlement." Just find the rest of the group.

Rita hugged him round the neck, the only part of his body that wasn't ripped apart, stroking his hair. 'Sit as long as you need to, Tony.'

He shook his head, struggling to his feet. 'They're closing on us. We gotta keep moving.' His eye flickered to the precipice, the move noted by his father who pulled him forward.

'You're walking up front with me, Antonio. The path's a little wider here. Lean on me.'

So I can slow you all down further? He shook his head, eyes lowered. They gotta dump me if they wanna hope of getting out of here. They're never going to do that voluntarily…A strong arm encircled him pulling his body forwards.

'Antonio, I'll take you. Let's move, m'ijo. If they get any closer to us we'll hole up and take them out. We're armed,' Marco urged, pulling him forward.

'Papa, they won't all approach from the same angle, they'll fan out….'

'We got this far, Tony. Do you imagine I'll let them capture us again?' Marco shook his head. 'I don't ask for much, no help, nothing, only that they let us leave peacefully, but if they insist on preventing that….I'll bury them here, if I must.'

Tony searched his father's face, noting a new grimness in his expression that the stress of raising a large family had failed to produce. He threw him a questioning look.

'I killed twelve men, Antonio. A few more – what difference can it make now? I overstepped the line days ago.'

An icy hand squeezed Tony's heart as he pondered his father's words. 'Papa, you surely don't think what you done is unforgivable?' he questioned in disbelief. 'We had no choice. Either we took them out or we sat down and waited for them to dispose of us anyway they saw fit. It was self-defense.'

Marco blinked hurriedly before he averted his gaze, helping him along in silence.

An icy wind that blew steadily from the north slowed their progress as they were forced to move closer to the rock face to avoid being blown over the precipice. Swirling snow further added to their discomfort as they moved ahead, aware from the tension in Tony's face that their pursuers were not far behind. No one spoke as each concentrated on survival, Rita helping Michelle, and Marco dragging Tony who lost the remaining strength for a single step further. 'Papa, it's not working…' Tony began, desperate to convince his father of the need to protect the two women and guide them to safety.

'I'm not leaving you, Antonio, so save your breath,' was his only reply.

Tony cast a glance further behind to the two women momentarily out of earshot. 'You must. You're as aware of it as I am.'

'M'ijo, your mother and I spoke a while back, when I rescued you from Hassan. Neither of us will abandon you. You're supposed to outlive us, or we all die together, but we won't let you go first. Accept that.'

Tony let out a sigh of frustration. 'Alright, I understand the need to protect me, I'm your son. I get it, I really do. But have you considered Michelle? She needs help as much as I do and she's got a real chance of makin' it outa here!'

Once again Marco averted his gaze. 'You are our son, Antonio. Our primary duty is to protect you. We will do everything to help Michelle, but ultimately your survival is paramount as far as we are concerned. It sounds awful, I know. Please understand us. I was there when you were born, and I took you out in the hall while they fixed your mother up, and I made you a promise that day. I was not going to allow anyone in the world to hurt you. I know you got hurt in the Marines, I wasn't there to help you, but I'm here now and that promise stands.'

At least you know where you got your stubbornness from Almeida. It goes beyond logic, beyond commonsense, beyond reason. It comes from his heart, not his mind… He forced himself to stand upright. 'I'll walk a bit, Papa.' You just demonstrated sheer obstinacy, Papa. I got plenty of that myself…