AN: This is a sequel to Fighting Redfox, which you must read first in order to understand the events of this story. Both stories are interconnected.

I had been struggling to write for sometime since my brother's death involving heroin. As I wrote in Fighting Redfox, this sequel contains drug usage; not all who are drowning within the drug's hold are bad people. Not at all. Sadly they just made one bad choice. The rest were made against their wishes, against their better judgement, which could have/may have led to their untimely end. It's not up to us to determine their fate, but we must help them do what is right through encouragement. This story has strong redemption themes as well: there is still hope for the ones still caught in narcotic traps.

Note that I am unwilling to discuss opinions over drug usage/addiction in general in the reviews/comments, as that is reserved for the story itself. If you wish to speak with me regarding the topic, feel free to PM me.

Fighting Redfox and Finding Gryder are dedicated to my brother, Brian.

Storyline: [AU] Recruited by Sting, Mest Gryder begins his descent down a dark path that carries him to the better half of his life. With a family of his own now, he knows about sacrifice. After witnessing a crime, he and Gajeel again enter the struggle against the destructive life they had rejected. It's the fight of a lifetime for both father and son in this Fighting Redfox sequel. [Two plot converg/lemons] *Major character death warning

Two separate plots - the past and the present - collide as events unfold.

*Rated Mature - There is intense language, violence, drug usage, and some sexual situations. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

*I do not own any of the media.

*I do not own any of Fairy Tail - that's all Hiro Mashima.

AN: This is a long one. I plan on adding a tiny bit to this. But I'm tired of working on it and i want to finally give an update. Just hold onto ya butts.

Chapter Four - Haunting Past (II)

Taking a rather deep breath and stepping out, Gryder forcibly shut the front door behind him. The intensity of his mother's irritated shouts immediately hushed, but he could still hear her voice even outside. He leaned on the wooden railing ahead of him, his fingers squeezing tight in his frustration.

He wanted so badly to rip the wooden railing off the tiny porch and beat the side of the trailer with it. He wanted to do many things. One of which was escaping the hell hole of a home. But she was his mother. He didn't have to like her at the moment, but as he refrained from his desire to destroy the trailer and the woman inside, he knew the love he had had for her would resurface. And then when she calme.d down, all would be normal.

Though, normal was subjective.

Rolling his eyes, Gryder pushed himself away from the rail. As he aimlessly wandered out into the darkness of the night, he reached into his pocket to produce a rolled blunt he'd saved from earlier. Sticking it in between his pursed lips to light it, the lighter he thought had had wasn't with him.

"Great," he darkly growled, the joint bobbing up and down as his lips moved. There was no way he was going back into that trailer.

He hid the blunt in his fist and made his way towards the empty street, maneuvering around the other rows of trailers in the dark until he came to the blacktop. The corner gas station was just up the block. He could see the lights within the store still on.

A few vehicles were still in the small lot as Gryder approached the gas pumps, one parked on the farthest end. He mentally counted the money he possessed. The twin lights of a car appeared behind him as he approached the entrance, followed by the rumble of a hardy engine.

Gryder never looked back. He swiftly grabbed what he wanted and paid. When he strode out, the charger that he had been seeing hanging about around town was front and center.

Admiring the shape and the idle purring of the engine, Gryder lit his blunt. His eyes never left the silver vehicle until the engine cut off and the driver's door opened wide.

A man stood up, his form half hidden by the shadows. He blended into the dark seamlessly with the aid of a black jacket. The only part of him to stand out was his yellow hair. Unseen eyes watched the young man blow out a breath. "What you're smoking is illegal," he said.

Gryder never skipped a beat. Solidly planted on the walkway, he narrowed his eyes as he stared the newcomer down. "Why do you care?" he asked.

The man shrugged once and said simply, "It'd just be a shame to get booked for something so small. Not worth the jail time, is all."

"Yea. Is that right." Gryder kept his voice low, threatening. Who was this stranger? Who cared what he did or didn't do? He wasn't hurting anyone. "And what would be worth it then?" He sarcastically asked.

"The hard shit your mother's into."

"And how do you know my mother," Gryder instantly growled. How did this man know what his mother prefered to use recreationally? Was he her dealer? That would explain a lot. Though it wouldn't explain why he had just shown up to talk with him. He crushed the lit end of the joint against his hand to snuff it out. "You one of her many fuck buddies?"

The stranger put his hands into his jacket pockets, casually standing there watching him. A small frown appeared to replace the line his mouth had formed.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Instead of answering the direct question, the man nodded towards what the kid had just snuffed. "There's not much money to be found in that. I can show you where there is."

A light laugh began to slip through Gryder's teeth. The whole exchange was getting too ridiculous. All he had to do was step off the sidewalk and leave. There was nothing keeping him from being on his way.

He was about to turn, but something -call it curiosity- kept him interested in what the man had to say. What he had to offer. He lifted his arm. "Is this some kind of joke? Are you a cop trying to fuck with me?"

"I'm neither. I'm just trying to recruit."

Young Gryder paused. It was not an answer he was prepared to hear. "Recruit for what?" he questioned.

A smile slipped onto the man's face. "Get in the car and I'll show you."

Gryder squinted, his brows pulling downward with his scowl. "I ain't gettin' in your damn car! I don't even know your name."

"My name is Sting. Not that it matters."

A snort came from the kid. He scoffed, "You're right, it doesn't."

Sting fought the urge to roll his eyes. The adolescent was on the brink of adulthood and even now was more than a challenge. He knew things, whether it was knowledge or instinctual reactions. He was akin to a loaded weapon. It made him unpredictable.

Dangerous.

He was exactly what they needed.

Sting lowered his voice after a deep breath to steady his gnawing irritation. "Get in the car," he breathed.

Gryder's head tilted slightly and his body angled in line with the vehicle to his right. He gave a husky, "No."

Reaching into his jeans pocket, Sting fished out a cylinder of cash and tossed it to him with a quick motion. "Will this change your mind?"

A thick, heavy wad of cash landed in his upturned hand. Green eyes widened a bit with surprise at what it was. He glanced up at this stranger called Sting. He couldn't be sure without counting it out, but there was at least three grand resting in his palm. All but glistening in the minimal lighting like a cluster of diamonds. He had never seen that much at once in his life.

"There's money to be made. A lot of it. We need someone who's got dealing experience," Sting informed in a casual drawl. He pointed to the money roll. "Consider that your sign on bonus."

"Are you fuckin' with me?"

Sting stared at his prey with impassive eyes. "No."

Gryder's eyes dropped down to his hand engulfing the money. He tried to take in all of the information that had just been dumped on him. He couldn't believe it. "How do I know?"

"Take it on faith. I've been keeping tabs on you, I know about you and your friend. What you do on school grounds."

A pit deep within Gryder's gut bottomed out. If the man was lying to him about not being with law enforcement, he could be taken in for dealing misdemeanors on state property. He was closer to being charged as an adult that he was for just juvenile detention and probation.

Sensing Gryder's inner turmoil, Sting asked, "Have you ever been caught?"

"No, but its school." Gryder shifted his weight. "No one wants to get busted so no one talks where they get their shit from. Are you sure you're not a cop? Or a nark?"

"Are you in the county jail or worse right now?"

With that, Gryder's shoulders relaxed. He watched as Sting stretched where he stood. Patiently allowing the kid to think. They had time. There was no rush.

Wetting his lips, Gryder tried relax his face, but a frown replaced the scowl. Trust was something that had to be earned. "How long've you been spying?" he questioned.

There was a small shrug. "A couple of months."

"Is it just me?"

"There are a few others, yes," Sting hesitantly admitted. He nodded.

"Lahar one of them?"

Blue eyes narrowed. "Maybe."

"Right," the kid murmured.

It made sense. He and Lahar did a lot of lunch and after school selling, making sixty to eighty bucks every other week or so. Seeing the same Charger sitting in the parking space not four feet from him just confirmed that his friend had been in the man's sights. Same as him.

He looked down at his hand. His thumb ran up the paper dollar on the outside. It was a one hundred dollar bill. Whatever this Sting was involved in selling, it was well worth more than what he and Lahar could ever hope for with what they had access to. Weed was one thing. What could make a thousand dollars for the same amount?

Was the gamble worth it?

Jaw clenching, Gryder sniffed once and casually slipped his hands in his pockets. The money now rested safely inside.

Sting smiled. He motioned to the car. "Get in."

Gajeel's head came up out of the toilet bowl. He spit and took an open-mouthed breath. A brief groan slipped through his parted lips. This was not the way he wanted to spend his day off. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to stop shaking.

Chills had started plaguing him in the early morning and he knew then that he was in for it. Kneeling over the bowl again, he shuddered as a violent bout of sickness erupted from him.

"Fuck," he weakly uttered. He wiped his mouth with a towel.

There was a minimal amount of strength left in his body. There was no appetite. He could barely eat if he wanted to; he could keep down room temperature water. The only thing he seemed to be able to do was sit there and empty the contents of his stomach.

Multiple times over. There wasn't anything left for him to throw up.

He collapsed on the cold tiling, violently shaking and utterly exhausted. His muscles involuntarily seized and his stomach ached. Everything hurt. His senses were malfunctioning on an overworked circuit. Of all the times he'd gone through the torture of drug withdrawals, none had been this bad.

He wanted to die.

A buzzing sound caught his diverted attention. He had kicked his phone around the bathroom floor at the start of the morning when he began to feel sick. Where was it now?

Slowly, Gajeel righted himself, careful to keep his head still. He searched the floor through watery eyes only to shut them again as another bout of nausea and round of chills hit him.

Levy would have to wait, as much as he wanted to see her. He couldn't even sit up without falling over. He didn't want her to see him like that. It wasn't her problem to deal with. His girlfriend came from a nice, lawful family. The less she knew right now…

He swiftly turned his head to heave up bile into the cold, white bowl.

The desperate need for the narcotics that led him into this shitfest heightened. Both relieved that he had managed to flush what he had left and angry with himself that he had done it, Gajeel suffered through the withdrawal process alone and prayed no one had to find him in the case that he passed out from the pain, or worse.

After what seemed like mere minutes, Gajeel gradually came to many hours later. The sun was now in the opposite side of the sky and the sunset through the windows was a bright yellow-orange. His phone buzzed against the tile. How long had it been doing that?

His gaze fell from the window to his disheveled clothing. The shirt he had worn was now half unbuttoned and wet from sweating through the material. Rising, he held his head in his hand, groaning from the ache still present. He felt like he'd been hit by a truck; his muscles screamed at him every time he moved, his throat was raw and burned.

He was a mess.

His attention was now on locating the buzzing sound. The black device was next to the trash can. The screen lit up with a call. He leaned to get it. His heart sank as he decided to let it go to voicemail.

Levy was calling him.

He had over twelve text messages, six missed calls, and a voicemail just from her. The rest were from the warehouse.

"Great," he murmured. He inhaled. Quickly dialing the familiar contact number, he brought the phone to his face.

"Gajeel!? Are you ok?" Levy answer in a relieved rush.

The obvious concern in his girlfriend's voice made his stomach hurt. He was an addict. A piece of shit one, at that. She deserved so much more than what he had to offer.

"Yea-" He cleared his throat."Yea, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" She asked.

He closed his eyes. "I'm sure baby, I just drank too much last night. I've been sleeping it off," he lied. Immediately after the words came out he clamped his lips together in a tight line.

It amazed him how easily the flowery deceit rolled from his tongue and right out into the open. Years of practice nearly made him flawless.

"You should have told me. I'd have come over and helped you."

He grunted. "Help me do what? I wasn't doing anything."

"You know what I mean. You worried me," she said. Although he couldn't see her at the moment he could hear the pout in her tone.

"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to ya sometime," he said easily. He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand.

"Sometime soon, I hope. I miss you."

"Sometime soon," he agreed.

After the call ended, Gajeel pulled himself to his feet. He looked into the mirror and saw his ugly reflection. A scowl appeared to stare back at him with disappointed eyes. "You're an asshole," he said aloud, indicating to the man across from him.

Being selfish was something he was good at. It was easy. Natural. Self preservation. But when it came to considering another person other than himself, he severely lacked. Especially if he personally got nothing out of it in the end. And Levy wasn't just another piece of ass he could in good conscious toss aside after his seeds were sown.

He'd never felt pain so deep after having lied to who he hoped could be the mother of his children at some point in life. So he did have a little bit of a conscious after all.

"Still an asshole," he murmured into the mirror before turning to leave.

After changing into fresh jeans and a new t shirt, Gajeel checked the rest of the messages while he grabbed leftover pizza out of the fridge for a hasty dinner. His eyes skimmed over the unread tabs on his phone as he ate.

What a surprise: Jose needed his assistance.

He shook his head. When did the old man not need him for something? He was used to being an errand runner and had grow to like it. Moreso now that he actively looked for excuses to be away from the warehouse. However, in his gut, he knew he would have a rough time of it.

The new kid Sting was always up his ass. Always raring to go on a drug run. The one time Gajeel had personally taken him, Sting had been scared shitless and nearly froze. It was also the last time Gajeel volunteered to go on one; having a skitzo point a gun at him is what did it.

It wasn't the fact that he'd been drawn on. That did little to phase him since that had happened in some way or another even before he joined Jose's cartel. Death had been and still was a friendly reminder of what could become of a dealer. He was sure he could manage. Alone. Levy changed that for him though.

And now the Sting kid would undoubtedly want to hang out and shoot the shit with the best of them. Gajeel unfortunately had zero desire to do so. His attempted thoughts were on recovery, and lingering around the shit he got high on was the worst idea since Croc footwear.

The text sent with his reply to the messages. Gajeel leaned down to pull on his boots.

Nevertheless, he would do as much as he could to help himself, and in turn Levy, while doing Jose's bidding. He could balance both sides of his life. He could make it work. Couldn't he?

The faint beginnings of a panic sprang into the dark corners of his mind. A panic of fear and failure. Frowning, he squashed them back before they could multiply. There was no time for that shit. Worrying about things would just complicate it all.

Ignoring the headache creeping up on him once again, he palmed his keys and hoped to survive a new day. It was a fresh start. Another chance to do better. Because fuck failure.

Days sober: 0.

The way people glanced at them as they headed toward the exit made Melina uncomfortable. They still had items to pay for at the register. Between Owen's constant whining and not being able to get ahold of Gryder, Melina seriously doubted they could make it through another department store without some sort of incident.

She caught her mother's attention as she juggled her purse, holding Owen's hand, and pushing the full cart. Se blew out a breath and said, "Mom, I have to go pay for all this, please take him?"

Levy nodded. "After this we should head home. It's getting late," she said. She watched as her daughter transferred her son to her. When he started to act up again, she distracted him by looking at the arcade games near the front entrance.

Once in line, Melina took a deep breath, leaning over the handle. If it wasn't for her mother to help, she didn't know what she would do. Especially since her husband was MIA with his father-in-law. Probably in the hunting section, or in another store altogether. The two of them had their own interests and ways about shopping.

She tried Gryder on the phone again. As the ringing began, she suspected that it would go to voicemail as it had the previous three times she had attempted. Her eyes rolled with the thought. On the third ring he picked up.

"Hey baby."

"Where are you?" She asked, then added, "Why haven't you answered me?"

"Sorry, I got your messages. We're just now leaving Chucks," Gryder replied. He had to speak at a higher volume. There was loud, distorted music in the background that threatened to cut out his voice. Another deep voice was heard almost as clear.

"Chucks? You guys went to a sports bar?" There was only one Chucks she knew of. They had passed the sign for half priced beer before 5pm on their way to the store.

"We couldn't find you."

"So you leave for a drink and not take me with you? And it's called texting. You never answered me back." Melina struggled not to whine herself. She was aware that she was not the only person in line. Seeing that there was room to load some of her items, she placed a few on the moving belt.

There was a pause. In a lowered voice that conveyed meaning, he said, "I'll make it up to you later. With passion."

Melina's stomach flipped with his words. She smiled. Whenever he said he'd make something up to her, he always meant it and followed through. Before she could respond, the second voice she had heard said something about not talking about sex in front of him.

Gryder chuckled into the phone at his father-in-law's demand. "Are you waiting on the car then?" he asked her.

"Soon. I'm next in line. Mom has Owen. We gotta get him home. Let me know when you pull up. We'll be in the vestibule."

"Ten-four. Love you."

"Love you too."

As soon as he ended the call it was Melina's turn to cash out. If she raised herself on her toes, she could see Levy holding Owen up at one of the games by the main doors. He was calm and smiling, which was as good as it could get when he was grumpy and tired.

With Gryder and Gajeel currently on their way to pick them up, Melina felt herself relax.

"What's our ETA?" Gryder asked Gajeel as they headed out the bar entrance for the parking garage. He turned his head to see Gajeel hold the door open for a couple walking in.

"About fifteen," he said when he caught back up. "Twenty-five, thirty if we can't beat rush hour traffic."

"Melina will be pissed if she has to wait long with Owen. From how she sounded, he's giving her a hard time."

Gajeel's rich voice changed into a deep chuckle. It came out even and sly. "It's only fair after all the years I had to put up with her whiny shit. I knew she'd end up with a child just like her when y'all told me she was pregnant the first time," he said easily. His happy tone wasn't lost on Gryder.

"You know I live with them both."

Gajeel let out a brief laugh at his monotoned reply. He put a hand on Gryder's shoulder as they strolled down the sidewalk. "You'll live. I did."

The afternoon sky was now overcast, hiding the sun behind grey clouds. The downtown cityscape shadowed the streets even when the sunlight filtered through. Almost immediately at five o'clock, it seemed as though the nine-to-five workplace entered the streets. A swarm of taillights consumed the blacktop.

The parking garage loomed a city block away. Gajeel still hated to park in them, preferring to park along the sidewalks or open access lots. It was the enclosed feeling. Knowing there was only one way in and out of a multistory maze of parking spaces. It was one of the worst places to get caught in a chase.

They continued down the wide sidewalk until Gryder slowed his pace by a fraction. He glanced at Gajeel, who was watching the line of vehicles in the lanes to their left and checked the time on his phone. Glancing around, Gryder thought he heard a faint shout.

It was hard to place given that noise was all around them. He sped up to match Gajeel's stride. When he happened to turn to his right to his steps faltered and he abruptly halted.

There was a dark alley covered by the shadows of the neighboring buildings. By the dumpsters was a small group of men dressed in dark clothing. Four of them crowded around something against the side of one building.

Gryder stared at them. The only way he knew they were people was the contrast of their skin against the shadows. His gut screamed at him that there was a crime playing out in some way or another.

Their backs were to him, but he could see that the something they surrounded was a someone. The frightened man held up his hands, shaking his head. His lips are moving fast. There was a certain kind of fear on his face. In his eyes. But with much terror in them was just as much recognition and opposition. And it was then that one of the men pulled out a gun and pointed it at their victim.

Sensing he was walking alone, Gajeel stopped short. He turned around to see Gryder a few strides back. "Oiy," he called.

Gryder quickly snapped his stunned sights to his father-in-law.

His features were too confusing for Gajeel to make out. Was it surprise or fear? "What's wrong," he said immediately, his eyes narrowing. It didn't feel right.

There was a loud pop in the air as Gajeel marched back to him. He almost bumped into his son's shoulder after expecting Gryder to move. At the sudden, brief explosion, Gryder's gaze flickered from him to the scene in the alley.

Both of them watched in surprised horror as the man wielding the pistol turned towards the street to leave. He lifted his sly gaze and deeply frowned when he saw them staring.

"Oh shit," Gajeel breathed. His eyes widened.

Gryder couldn't speak. His muscles seemed paralyzed. No matter how hard he tried to move, his feet were firmly planted on the concrete. Through shocked eyes, he realized he firmly recognized the shooter.

He had closely worked with him. All but grew up with him. There was no mistake.

Smiling back at him was Lyon.

The evil smile spread further across Lyon's face when he understood just who it was to witness a terrible something he shouldn't have. He flicked the pistol in his unintended audience's direction. Two of his men then began to advance on them, pulling out guns of their own from under their shirt tails.

On instinct, Gryder's hand went to his hip. He expected to feel the government issued .9mm, but the space where it usually sat was empty, pistol, holster and all. Of all days he chose not to open carry. It was mentally noted, and he hoped it wasn't a fatal mistake.

They had to get the hell out and fast.

Immediately he grabbed a fistful of the material at Gajeel's shoulder and gave a forceful tug as he started to sprint up the walkway, urging his wife's father away from the alley. The older man easily kept with his clipped pace and dodged around the people leisurely wandering on the wide walkway in their shopping. The wind rushed past Gryder's ears, but all he could hear was his steady footfalls and his heart frantically beating in his burning chest.

The store fronts blazed by in a blur. Passersby made way for them as they called out ahead with shouts to move and raised their arms out in case they ran into someone not paying attention.

Gajeel glanced over his shoulder to see Lyon's henchmen still in pursuit a few yards back. "Fuck!" he spat.

Raindrops began to fall, stinging them on exposed flesh. A busy intersection was ahead and fast approaching. Gryder cut to the right and Gajeel followed close behind, almost running into a woman and her child. By the time they rounded the corner, the cloudy sky had opened the floodgates. The earthy scent of water upon the pavement rose up pungent in the air.

Both father and son gained momentum as they barreled along the now almost empty and wet sidewalk. With fewer bystanders to hide and protect them, they both knew they were sitting ducks.

All it took was one round. One bullet to end it all.

Their assailants rounded the same sidewalk corner they had just sprinted from, both with their guns out. All they had to do to was aim. It was an extremely risky decision to do so; Gryder and Gajeel weren't the only lives at stake should their round miss their intended targets. It was now one of the busiest times in a typical weekday.

"Come on!" Gryder beelined it for the parking garage entrance across the street. The large, sturdy concrete structure would provide cover from the rain at least, if not a sufficient hiding place from a couple of crazed gunmen.

With a rough glance in both directions of traffic, Gryder ran out into the four lane streets with Gajeel on his heels, hoping the clearing they had just run through would close up with more vehicles to seal up their route.

They darted along a full row of stationary vehicles, careful not to touch any of them in case alarms were set off. Once in the stairwell and ascending to the higher levels, only then did either of them speak.

"Lyon. It was Lyon," Gryder said in a breathless rush. He took two steps at a time. "He knows, we know it was him."

"Him for what?"

"He fuckin' shot that guy. Murdered him point blank." Gryder's voice hardened. "He knows me. Saw me watch. He knows you. Geesus, he knows Melina."

Gajeel's eyes flashed angry. Grabbing the railing, he propelled himself with his momentum and hopped over the last steps to the second floor landing.

Gryder skipped up the remaining flight of stairs ahead of him. Gajeel could see there was a certain fear now awakened in him. Something felt familiar in what that certain fear looked like in those green irises Melina loved so much. But it was temporarily stifled by the will to survive; no doubt memories of the past were resurfacing. The wheels were turning in both of their heads.

"You're a cop, call it in."

"I can't. We're the only witness as far as I know. If I do it now, the moment the units come he'll know it was me, and then we're fucked." Gryder shoved open the stairwell exit on the third level and sprinted up the middle row of the level. He didn't have to explain the last part.

The sound of Gajeel's labored breathing seemed loud in the quiet. They ducked behind vehicles, hoping the bulk of large metal would conceal them long enough to figure out what to do next. Gryder pulled his phone from his jacket pocket.

"What're you doing?" Gajeel murmured.

"I gotta let Melina know."

An arm shot out from his side to keep his daughter's husband still beside him and growled, "Like hell you will."

"They're expecting us to pick them up, now!" Gryder hissed. He pulled his hands free of the hold.

Gajeel was reluctant to involve his family in outside drama. Especially when his grandson was with them. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if anything happened to them. "They can wait a little longer. Until we know it's safe to leave without these assholes as a tail."

"It's Lyon," Gryder said with a roll of his eyes. "There is no such thing as safe."

Gajeel gave him a look.

"He's the son of a bitch who almost raped Melina." There was a ominous tint to his voice as he spoke. There was no forgive and forget where his past rival was concerned.

Gajeel took a breath. He clenched his fists. "I wish I had a gun on me," he murmured darkly.

"Yea you an' me both," Gryder grunted. He peered through the window of a red SUV, searching the front of the garage for the two strangely familiar assassins.

He saw the stairwell door swing open. Two men appeared to rush through.

"Fuck, fuck…" Gryder whispered. Ducking down behind the tire, he hastily typed out a text, sent it, then silenced his phone.

He watched the delivered status change to read on the message.

Stay there, we're delayed. Don't worry, we'll be there. Just be ready to go quick. I love you.

Whatever the reply would be, Gryder would have to wait. He stuffed the phone back into the pocket and looked at Gajeel. They had to focus on finding a way out.

"Keys?"

Gajeel gave Gryder his car keys as quietly as he could. While Gryder watched the front end of the car, he watched the back, waiting until they could find out where Lyon's men were on the parking level.

Then the younger man spied their hunters across the garage. One of them searched the vehicles they came to, the other glancing around with the firearm at the ready in case either of their prey charged them.

Together, the two men Melina loved most rounded the end of the SUV as their assailants briskly passed by. Gajeel pointed to the end of the row, where his car sat parked. He made the motions of pulling the top slide of a handgun and pointed to it again, indicating that he had one in the glovebox.

That revelation made Gryder feel a little better; they weren't completely defenseless. They snuck around until they eventually made it to their destination. Carefully unlocking and opening the driver's door, Gryder cimbed in without shutting it. He manually unlocked the passenger and Gajeel did the same.

He dipped into the glovebox to produce a .40mm and inserted the full magazine up into the handle and slowly racked it to stay as silent as he could.

Gryder stared at the wheel and ignition. He'd have to start it and get going in a matter of seconds. Lyon's lackeys would be suspecting something by now.

The key slid into the ignition switch.

A dinging started, as the doors were still open.

"Shit," Gryder spat and hurried to turn the engine.

Shouts were heard echoing through the level and within moments the two men had Gajeel's car locked in their sights.

Throwing it into reverse, Gryder ducked over the wheel. Tires squealed as the car moved from the space to the lane. As soon as Gryder slammed on the brakes to shift, a chorus of gunfire lit up the parking level.

Gajeel slid up further on the seat, his lower back resting against the middle console. He used the side mirror to watch the two gunmen as the back window acquired three bullet holes and a large crack through the middle that spidered up to one corner.

One round went through the middle of the front windshield.

"Go, go," he cried.

Before the car could accelerate forward, Gajeel turned in the seat, aimed the gun and squeezed off a shot. The explosion in the close quarters threatened their hearing. Gryder cringed and heard an intense ringing.

They launched down the lane. Tires squealed again as they half drifted around the corner and entered onto the second level. The gunshots ceased, but they still weren't out of the woods.

Once on the ground level, Gryder knew he couldn't stop to let the gate raise. If he did, it would give their attackers time to catch up to them. Pursing his lips, Gryder tried to slow a bit before he rammed it. They crashed into the gate at forty miles per hour.

The white and yellow gate arm flung out in broken pieces onto the street. They almost struck an unsuspecting passenger car almost seconds after the gate arm went flying, causing Gryder stomp on the brakes. His chin hit the wheel when the vehicle abruptly came to a stop, the front bumper skidding into the nearest street lane.

The back of Gajeel's head struck the window's glass beside him. He glanced back up into the garage and saw headlights advancing. "Punch it," he shouted and turned to Gryder.

Doing what he was told, the young cop gunned it, laying his foot on the accelerator. Tires spun for a brief instance and then Gajeel's family car darted out into the remaining lanes. Other drivers braked and swerved, allowing Gryder a narrow but clear path to escape.

"What if there's a red light?!" He cried, his head spinning in all different directions to keep them from getting into an accident with the other law abiding citizens.

Gajeel held up the gun in case Lyon's men followed in pursuit. He suspected they wouldn't give up that easily; the witnesses to a murder were speeding away as fast as traffic conditions would allow.

"Shut up and drive. Try not to kill us," he said casually.

As he suspected, they had a tail. He tried to direct his son in the way he should turn to shake it. Traffic was thinning in sections, but he was afraid of getting caught between lanes and pinned down.

Gajeel saw a familiar piece of roadway ahead of them. "Turn left there, quick." He pointed with the gun.

To do so, they had to cut off oncoming cars with the right of way. Gryder cringed and took the dive. Again he gunned it. The engine violently roared as it pulled the car into a small side street. Another vehicle didn't stop in time to avoid them. The right tail light was clipped. Red plastic littered the blacktop like broken glass.

"Turn right, third stop sign, turn left and then let it fly," Gajeel instructed calmly. "It's the back loading docks for the block, a clear alley. Follow it all the way to the 'T', then right and left again, it'll dump us put right behind the department store. Take the backroads home."

His mind brought up the map of the city, which he had to learn years prior when he delivered for Jose. The cityscape might have changed somewhat with time, but his mental bearings were still the same.

Gryder glanced at him, dumbfounded. "How do you know all of this?"

"We both worked for the same man who also hired Lyon." Gajeel's eyes never left the windshield, watching where they were, ready with the .40mm in case their tail had accomplices. "Plus I've done this before once or twice," he commented.

Once with Melina not as many years ago.

When they neared the department store block, Gajeel scouted their six, watching for incoming bogeys. He had hoped they lost them at the first left seeing as he hadn't located anyone behind them since disappearing out of the alley.

Gryder prepared himself for an angry and frightened onslaught of questions as he pulled into the parking lot. He hadn't had time to check his phone for the innumerable messages and missed calls from his wife. Not to mention what Gajeel would get for the back windshield barely hanging on by a thread.

When he halted, Gajeel left the gun on the front seat and hurriedly went to their full cart of bagged items.

Levy's hazel eyes shot open. Her hand went to her mouth as she took in the condition of her daily driver. Her hand left her face and she gasped, "W-what… Gajeel Redfox!"

"No time, just get in," he snapped. He opened the back hatch, careful with the window and threw in the plastic bags.

Melina's breath caught in her throat.

She gripped Owen's hand, bringing him close to her before peering into the car. Her husband impatiently tapped the wheel with his thumbs. He didn't even shift the vehicle into park. Without so much as a glance in their direction, he rattled off. "Get him strapped in, hurry."

She clamped her mouth shut and worked to get Owen in his seat. Words were building up in her mouth every second that ticked by. Those words were not going to be pleasant.

Levy hopped in the back passenger seat as Gajeel finished loading. He simply left the cart were it was to roll wherever the wind blew it. He returned to his front seat.

Once everyone was inside, Gryder checked the side mirror for any sign of opposition and took off.

"What the fuck did do you!?" Melina shouted. "How! How could you possibly manage to ruin the window!?"

Levy's eyes shot to her daughter before looking at the men expectantly. "Answer her!"

Gryder glanced to Gajeel. Hd was at a loss for words. What could they say that would even come close to remedying the situation? There was nothing.

"We ran into trouble," Gajeel started slowly. He half turned to see his wife seated behind Gryder. "From the past," he added.

"But the window, it's-" Levy said.

"What do you mean, 'the past'?" Meina interrupted.

She folded her leg under her and hovered over Owen's car seat. Her fingers gripped its edges. When no one answered her, she frowned and yelled out her frustrations, "Goddamit, my child is in the car, if we're in danger one of you better tell us what the hell is going on!"

"Mommmmeee," Owen began to cry and reach for her. He wasn't used to hearing urgent shouts and yelling from his parents.

"I- we witnessed a murder," Gryder immediately stated when Owen burst into tears. He guided the car toward the backroads, hitting the end a green light.

"A murder," Melina repeated. She touched Owen's face with her fingers to soothe him.

"Oh. Oh my," Levy breathed. Her hand came to her chest.

Gryder glanced up at them in the rearview. "Lyon and some men I didn't recognize."

He saw the instant apprehension in her eyes.

Melina swallowed. "Gryder…"

The memories of men coming into their house and shooting into the kitchen flashed to her. Memories of Lyon as he held her down on the bed when she their captive. It all came to her in a rush. Her husband had been there, and he saw it now in her face.

"I know, honey," he said. "I know."

Gajeel turned in his seat, still hiding the gun for Owen's sake."We can talk about this later. Right now we need to get home. Rhett doesn't have a clue what's going on."

A gasp came from his daughter. Her eyes held a desperate edge. Her hand shot out to the driver's seat. "Oh my God, Briella," she uttered, staring hard at Gryder.

"She's ok, she's with him at home," Gajeel said.

"No."

Gryder shook his head and took a deep breath. He didn't want to be right, and he hoped against hope that he wasn't.

"I thought for sure those guys back there would be on us like white on rice. It seems too easy that we lost them so quick. Lyon isn't stupid. He knows me."

"Fuck, you're right…" Gajeel growled. It brought on a whole new level of nerves.

Melina knew where they were going with their conversation. Nausea hit her stomach then and her body threatened to empty itself. "Pull over," she demanded.

"What?"

"Pull over!"

Once the car was beside the grassy ditch, Melina sprung out and bent over. The rain had lessened to a sprinkle when the left the city. It accompanied her while she wretched.

Levy leaned forward to distract Owen from looking out the open car door, but when she instead focused on what caught her attention. "What is that?"

Gajeel looked to where she pointed. In the top of the backseat was a bullet hole a little smaller than penny. The bullet had missed Owen's car seat by inches.

"Is that a bullet hole?!" She asked incredulously.

Hearing that exclamation caused Melina to heave again. She started to cry realizing there had been gun fire where her child was usually strapped in. She should have known given the destroyed window.

Gryder exited the car and jogged to her. He pulled her hair from her face as she was sick one last time. Her breathing was quick and unsteady.

"Whoa, breathe. Take deep breaths," he said.

Tears were in her eyes. Just below them was wet and a streak of a fallen tear was on her cheek. "Gryder, what's h-happening…"

"Shh. Don't talk. Everything is going to be fine. I'll figure out what to do at the office," he said reassuringly. He smoothed his thumb over her cheek.

"Take us home," she pleaded. "Please. I need both of my babies."

"Done," he said deeply. He kissed her forehead and escorted her back to the car.

With her inside, Gryder returned to the driver's seat. He glanced to his father-in-law, who had a hand still on his handgun.

"Don't put that away yet," he murmured discreetly. He started driving down the road and gaining speed.

"Wasn't planning on it."