Michelle peered through the gloom, her lowered voice urgent. 'They're coming. I saw them.'

Marco rose immediately, shaking Rita awake. 'We got to move now, querida. I'll get Tony.' He shook Tony, dismayed to feel his face considerably warmer than the day before. 'Antonio, get up.'

Tony forced himself up, sensing his returning fever through the unsteady cave around him. He stumbled outside, nodding his head at the snow. 'Rub a bit on my face, mom.' Rita bent and collected a handful of freshly fallen snow and rubbed some on his face and arms, aware their dire situation called for unorthodox methods of lowering fever. Tony leaned against the cliff, shivers racking his body.

'Are you able to move, Antonio, or shall we hole up?' Marco inquired, eyeing him dubiously.

'I'm able to keep moving,' Tony lied, images of what the men would do once they caught up with Michelle and his mother clear in his mind. Determinedly he took a step forward, sinking to his knees.

Marco pulled him up gently. 'I'll take your weight, Tony. Just move your legs,' he said urgently. They set off, stumbling through the snow, unsure of their destination; escape the only thought in their heads. A quarter moon lit the sky as they trudged along, their breaths in clouds around their faces. No matter how he strained his ears Tony was unable to hear their pursuers, the eerie silence only adding to his sense of urgency. They might well have fanned out by now. Probably have, in fact. We'll be walking into an ambush.

'Papa, we must leave the path,' he said softly, pausing. 'They're already ahead of us. Trust me on this. It's the most basic maneuver.'

Marco winced, staring at the sharp precipice on their left.

'Not that way. We gotta climb,' Tony muttered, eyeing the solid rock face to their right.

'M'ijo, it's a climb of about forty feet. In the summer, with ropes and pegs and whatever else those mountain climbers have we might have a chance, but…'

'But we're going to do it now without any of those things,' Tony insisted. 'We all die if we don't. It's not that high and we'll get to another bit of path…' And you're the most useless of the lot right now, Almeida, without the use of your hands… 'You guys better start,' he said softly, sitting on the path in defeat.

'Oh no. I'm not leaving you, Tony,' Michelle said immediately, sitting beside him.

'Sweetheart…'

'You're not getting out of watching those movies that easily,' she insisted. 'I'm not climbing up there without you.'

'None of us are,' Rita said.

'You're all wasting time,' Tony protested. 'You need to start climbing now.'

'I'll go first, feel out the handholds,' Marco decided. 'Tony, you're right behind me, then Michelle, and you're last Rita. You can give her a hand.'

He set off, mentally cursing every last inhabitant of the region. Once he found a rock that appeared to jut out enough to offer his feet a hold he began his climb, settling carefully. 'Give me your arms, Antonio.'

Tony chewed his lip, eyeing the rock before he raised his arms and allowed himself to be hauled up the first part of the cliff, digging his feet into the rock and pushing himself up to help his father. They sat together on the rock, beads of sweat trickling down his face. He was sick again. Should he make it out alive by some miracle, he would be hospitalized for several weeks.

Marco squeezed his shoulder encouragingly and moved upward, muttering to himself as he did when he was pushed to the limit. 'There's a spot where you need to take a little jump,' he called. 'Alright, Tony, your arms. Let Michelle take your ledge.' Tony raised his arms and was hauled to a tiny rock that supported his feet. 'M'ijo, I'm going to jump across now,' his father said softly. 'Hold on with your arms for a few seconds.'

Tony nodded, holding a rock above him with his arms, swaying dangerously. He squeezed his eyes shut feeling the world steady. 'Antonio, look at me. I'm going to need you to jump across to this ledge. Hold out your arm, I'll catch you.'

He blinked gazing at the path far below them, Michelle and his mother one rock below him, pale faces turned upward. God help me. He reached out an arm, kicking himself off the rock, flying through the air. Marco grabbed him and hauled him across the ledge where he sank down exhausted. 'Well done. Michelle, keep moving. Tony, I'm going to need to stay here to catch everyone as they jump across. I need you to move off this ledge as it won't support three.'

Tony nodded, allowing his father to help him onto a small outcrop. He didn't need to be told to remain absolutely still. Anxious eyes followed Michelle's progress as she strained to heave herself up the rock, one leg dangling useless. Occasionally Rita pushed her upward. Marco held out his hand encouragingly and she jumped, chewing her lip. 'Well done, sweetie. Let me find you a place to rest up till Rita comes.'

The nightmare climb continued. Tony risked a glance downward and immediately cursed himself as the path they had followed was now little more than a silvery trail beside the bottomless chasm. Chewing his lip he stared upward, focusing on the handful of outcrops that remained.

An hour later they stood uncertainly on a higher path too shaken to speak. Tony gave them five minutes to rest before he forced himself to his feet. 'We gotta keep moving. If we don't pass them by dawn we're dead.'

They trudged onwards, Rita handing out the remainder of the stolen vegetables which they chewed. To Michelle, whose sole vegetable consumption had consisted of prepared salads with dressings it tasted bland, though under the circumstances she ate it with relish. The three Almeidas, used to a veritable quantity of vegetables with every meal chewed them contentedly. 'Have some more raw whatever?' Michelle inquired, holding out a piece towards Tony.

'It's called turnip, sweetheart. I'm sure you read the word on some salad ingredients,' he teased, opening his mouth to allow her to pop some inside. 'Have some more, it tastes good!'

Michelle paused, feeling his forehead anxiously.

'I'm not delirious, sweetheart,' he assured her, chuckling. 'It's healthy.'

'I won't argue with you on that one. Something with this kind of taste is just bound to be healthy,' she agreed. 'But under no circumstance whatsoever can it be called 'good.' It's bitter and strong.'

'Just eat it, sweetheart.' He paused, the world swaying around him again. 'I gotta sit for a minute,' he admitted.

They crowded round him, Rita insisting they all needed a rest while circumspectly feeling his cheek. His eyes closed in exhaustion and he leaned against her, his head on her lap. 'You want the last aspirin, sweetheart?' she inquired, running her fingers through his hair just as she had when he was a toddler.

Tony shook his head. 'No, save it. I'll be fine in a minute.' He wouldn't, and his words fooled no one, but they somehow cheered him up just hearing it. 'It's just this climbing up and down that tires me. No wonder the Grand Old Duke of York only had his men marching up a hill. Had he brought them here, they'd have deserted in droves!'

Michelle clapped a hand round her mouth to drown her peal of laughter. Rita nodded, her eyes betraying her amusement as she pictured the scene. Only Marco remained silent, gazing at them with the same patient bewilderment he expressed when the conversation turned to topics he failed to comprehend. Seeing his expression Michelle giggled harder.

'You never heard of him, did you, Marco?' she inquired, seeing him shake his head.

'I did not. What was this duke supposed to have accomplished on a mountain?'

'It was a hill,' she explained, her spirits surprisingly high considering their own dismal situation. 'He trained a professional army. It's a kids' poem.'

'Ah, one of those,' Marco sighed, leaning against a rock, a look of resignation on his face.

'Once back at boot camp we had this real bastard of a drill sergeant who marched us up and down a hill all afternoon, and I made some comment to a friend that the guy's nuts, he thinks he's that particular duke. Some other guy repeated my words to him and he got a little pissed off,' Tony remembered, eyes half shut, his head in his mother's lap.

'Oh no, Tony,' Rita said reproachfully, eyes sparkling with amusement. 'What did he say?'

'Oh, quite a lot, believe me, but it's not something I can repeat to you or Michelle! The gist of it was that since I like nursery rhyme characters he won't disappoint me, he'll act the duke for me. He dismissed the others and made me march up and down that blasted hill all night with a full kit.'

'What a bastard,' Michelle said with feeling, rubbing his shoulder. 'Weren't you tired, sweetheart?'

Tony's only response was a groan.

'Well m'ijo, if you were silly enough to upset a drill sergeant, you had it coming,' Marco told him kindly, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

'It's not his fault, honey,' Rita sighed. 'He gets that from me. I got into trouble for the exact same thing. I was around ten years old and we went to church. You know what my mother's like,' they all nodded sympathetically. 'She made us sit and listen, but my father allowed me to take an exercise book and pencil, and I could draw quietly. Now this once, I don't know what possessed me, but I remembered the nursery rhyme about the old woman in the shoe, and right in front of us sat Tia Rosa, you remember some of her grandchildren, Tony. She had twelve kids, and I just drew a shoe with all of them. I couldn't draw to save my life, but unfortunately I labeled each person, and somehow left that drawing on the pew, and she found it…She was real mad, gave it my mother…'

Tony shook his head in sympathy. 'It's a wonder you're still with us, mom,' he said softly.

'Well, if we're done discussing dukes climbing mountains and old women wearing shoes, we should get going,' Marco suggested.

They climbed to their feet with difficulty, every one of them suffering from blisters as their shoes were falling apart on their feet. Marco pulled Michelle up and handed her the makeshift walking stick. 'The duke never climbed the hill,' Michelle began, stopping when she saw Tony shake his head.

'Sweetheart, if Papa couldn't get that straight after raising all of us, you won't be able to teach him, trust me!'

'Antonio, don't stretch your luck. I am perfectly capable of memorizing things,' Marco insisted, struggling to keep a straight face. 'Michelle can explain all about this duke if she'll walk with me,' and he took Michelle's arm kindly, helping her along. She winked at Tony before turning to his father.

'You okay, sweetheart?' Rita inquired.

'Yeah,' he replied, surprised to discover it was the truth. You're okay as long as you're with your family, Almeida. They just know how to keep you going. You might even keep your typhus at bay long enough to make it out of this Godforsaken country.

Jack pulled out his sat. phone yet again to call Gael, his ears burning from the memory of his previous conversation on that phone with Chappelle on the other end of the line. His boss had started off inquiring what sort of idiot he imagined himself to be, threatened to fire him, to prosecute him, insisted he WAS fired, blasted him for being so foolish as to attempt to locate one man in such a vast mountain range, and ended up giving him the latest coordinates of both groups insisting he make contact as soon as possible. He prayed Gael would be the one to answer the call, sighing in relief when the familiar voice answered. Things were apparently much the same at CTU. Alberta continued to lord it over both departments, giving several warnings for late returns from lunch breaks the previous day. The smaller group of four appeared to be moving over a range almost parallel to the terrorists which unfortunately ended, as far as he could tell on the less than perfect satellite images at the edge of a chasm, leaving them effectively trapped. The larger group was in the valley just past the chasm. Had the chasm not been there, the two groups would have united sometime that day. Jack thanked him and swore aloud, increasing his pace.

Tony paused, hand to his mouth. They fell silent, gathering round him. 'What's wrong, sweetheart?' Rita whispered.

'I noticed a flash. I'm gonna crawl to the edge and take a look. Whatever you do, keep quiet!' He slid forwards noiselessly and peered over the ledge, counting a dozen armed militants roughly a hundred feet below. Chewing his lip he slid backwards, standing once it was safe to do so. 'Shhh.'

They crept onwards barely breathing, Rita carrying the walking stick, Marco carrying Michelle to avoid the slightest noise. Out on the higher path they were completely exposed. Each footstep was taken in great care to avoid dislodging a single pebble to betray their position. Over an hour passed before Tony halted them, creeping over the ledge to peer out. 'We made it. They're way behind.' Exhausted, he sank onto the ground. 'I just need five minutes.'

'Take all the time you need, sweetheart,' Rita said, feeling his forehead which was warm again.

'We gotta keep moving,' Tony protested, laying his head against her shoulder. 'They'll soon realize we overtook them. We're gonna be hunted all the way.'

'Surely they won't follow us into Afghanistan?' Marco exclaimed.

Michelle sighed, eyes studying the towering peaks. 'I think they might.'

'You can count on it,' Tony muttered wearily.

Five minutes later he forced himself to his feet, telling himself he had no choice but to keep moving. They followed the uneven path which narrowed at one point forcing them to move sideways, the edges of their shoes hanging over the cliff. Rita moved across in front, Marco behind her, a hand on each woman's. 'Just don't look down. We're in no danger,' Tony assured them. He was forced to sink onto his knees and attempt the journey of several yards that way, aware he had no chance of keeping his balance.

Yet again his fever rose leaving him weak and parched. Marco returned when he was less than a quarter of the way across, pulling him to his feet. 'Hang on, m'ijo.'

'If I were a dog, you would've tossed me over the cliff to put me out of my misery long ago,' he muttered. 'I'm slowing you all down…'

'You saved us all, Antonio. You predicted the ambush correctly, and you noticed their presence and warned us to be silent. We would've been recaptured by now. I need you to hang in there another few days.'

Tony nodded. 'You got it,' he promised.

He was less certain he would manage to keep his word two hours later when they reached the end of the track, a drop of several thousand feet before them. Tears filled Michelle's eyes as she sank down despondently, the thought of returning sickening her. Rita narrowed her eyes, glaring at the scenery as though willing each mountain to tumble down. 'Dammit,' she cursed. 'Just when we had a chance!'

Marco slid his arms round her soothingly, aware he would throw himself over the cliff were his family not depending on him for their survival. 'We've faced worse, querida.'

'When?' she demanded, pushed to her breaking point. 'When were we ever in such a hole? We never even came close,' she concluded.

'We gotta return,' Marco said quietly, admitting their failure to the entire group. 'We can't stay here.'

'Wait a minute. We passed this goat trail a while back,' Tony remembered. 'It was a little steep, but it was headed into that next valley…'

'Yeah, if you wanna commit suicide,' Michelle remarked, having noticed the dangerous trail herself. 'Short cut to hell, Tony!'

'Right now, we got no other choice. Either we stay here and freeze, or we go back and hand ourselves over, or we get down that trail. I didn't come this far to stop here. I'm gonna rest next to Abuelo…'

His parents' faces paled at his final sentence. 'No one's resting anywhere,' Marco decided, chiding himself for having admitted defeat.

'Sounds right,' Rita said bitterly, pulling herself to her feet and reaching forward to haul Michelle up. 'There's no rest for the wicked. We must be really bad to deserve all this!'

'Mom,' said Tony gently, moving beside her to slip his arm round her. 'I think…I don't feel…' He sank onto his knees, squeezing his eyes shut against the sight of the dancing peaks.

'Oh God forgive me, I didn't mean to sound ungrateful,' Rita cried, bending to feel his forehead in terror. 'Tony. You're hot again, sweetheart.'

Michelle tugged at his t-shirt, raising it to reveal his stomach covered by rashes. 'He's got it again.'

'It never really cleared up, sweetie,' Marco guessed. 'Do we have anything else?'

Rita nodded, opening their final aspirin. 'Open your mouth, Tony.'

'We should save it,' he protested.

'Sweetheart, you need to lower your fever if you've a hope of getting down that trail in one piece. Your father can't carry two.'

Tony considered the scene through the buzzing in his head. "Can't carry two." Oh gee, he's got to carry Michelle. She hasn't a hope of making it on one leg. Focus, Almeida. You don't need this fever now. You're going to get down that trail in one piece…He nodded, his head aching.

They set off twenty minutes later, reaching the hazardous trail an hour into their return journey. It stretched before them, overgrown in parts, an animal trail rather than human. Loose rock covered the surface, the entire area free of a single ledge. Michelle squeezed her eyes shut, her head spinning at the almost vertical descent. To her surprise the Almeidas gathered, heads bowed and prayed for divine assistance, rising with confidence.

'Alright, sweetie. You're with me,' Marco began. 'We'll go first, then Tony…'

'No, I'll lead. Trust me on this, Papa.' This place is the only escape route…

They began to move, Tony landing on hands and knees within minutes as the loose gravel gave way under his feet. He cursed in pain as his broken fingers hit the ground, eyes watering. He rolled downwards, unable to prevent it or even slow himself down. Rocks and plants flashed past him as he attempted to grab them in vain, his broken fingers refusing to bend enough to clasp anything. In the end he forced his body sideways and ended up a foot off the trail in a bunch of thorns, swearing aloud. Sick with pain he lay among them, unable to extricate himself, forced to wait till his mother reached him five minutes later, panting.

'Tony, are you okay?' she gasped, pulling the thorns from his clothes.

He gave a shaky grin, determined to prevent her getting any more upset than she was. 'Yeah.'

'You were always a bad liar,' she observed, wincing as a thorn stuck her own finger. 'Damn this place to hell! I could always tell when you weren't speaking the exact truth, sweetheart.'

Tony threw her a resigned expression. 'That's how you knew I hadn't completed all my homework all those times I swore I had nothing else left?'

She nodded, grinning at the memory. 'Yes. Lie still, sweetheart, I'm not done yet. Does this bush consist of anything beside thorns? Alright, sit up, lemme check your clothes.' Tony sat patiently while she searched through his trousers and t-shirt, pausing as she moved behind him. Oh no, your back's bleeding again. It's bound to be, scraped over those rocks. And mom's gonna freak…

'Tony!'

'I know, mom,' he interrupted gently. 'It hurts like hell, I mean…'

'I can see what you mean,' Rita snapped, cutting off his apology. 'Let me see.' She raised his t-shirt, wincing in sympathy. 'It's that same place.'

'I guess it could use some stitches,' he said glumly. 'We gotta keep moving, mom. You can clean me up once we reach the valley.'

'Alright. I'll go first.'

'No. I'm going first,' he insisted, pushing himself up with difficulty.

'Why, Tony? So you can demonstrate how much quicker you can reach the bottom on hands and knees?'

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. 'No. Believe me; I'd rather get down on my own feet! I'm going first because you're not trained to notice mines before you'd step on them!'

'What mines?' Rita exclaimed. 'What in the world could there be to mine in this kinda place? Oh no, you don't mean….'

'Yeah, that kind. We're entering Afghanistan soon. We're gonna run into them sooner or later.'

Rita shook her head in gathering despair. 'You're telling me it's not enough that we're hiking through mountains with torn shoes, without food, that we're being hunted and you and Michelle are sick, now we gotta watch for mines as well? What's next?'

'You don't wanna know that, mom,' he assured her, noting her annoyance at his comment.

'Really? And how would you know what you're looking for, Antonio?'

Oops. She's getting cross when she calls you by your full name! Better take it easy here. 'Well, I ought to know, I was a lieutenant…'

'Tony, I want the truth!'

'Fine, you asked for it. I had to plot a course outa a minefield when we accidentally found ourselves in one. Took me forever!'

'You were in a minefield,' his mother whispered. 'You never told me.'

'I guess I forgot,' he said lamely, a wary eye on her. 'You don't wanna hit me, mom. The condition I'm in, I wouldn't stop till we reached the bottom of this mountain. You'd never forgive yourself!'

Rita took a step towards him, pulling him carefully into her arms. 'You could've died,' she stammered, wiping her eyes furiously. 'Did you ever stop to think what I would've done if they sent you home in a box? You're my baby…'

Tony used the back of his hand to wipe her face. 'Yeah. I was thinking about you the whole time, so I was real careful. It's okay, mom. I made it then and I'll make it now. We only gotta hang in there another coupla days.'

She shook her head, chewing her lip.

Tony lowered his eyes, examining the icy stones beneath him. 'Am I gonna feel worse tomorrow?' he questioned.

Trembling, she nodded. 'Yeah. I'm so scared…'

'Well don't be. I was trained to get my men back to base no matter what was wrong with me, and I never let them down. You can be sure I'm not gonna start now. They're coming,' he said softly, giving her a minute to pull herself together. 'Gimme a smile, mom. Like when I found your purse in the laundry behind the washing powder.'

By the time Marco and Michelle caught up to them they found them smiling at each other, Tony swaying from fever on his feet with a darkening patch at the back of his t-shirt. 'Let's go.'