1: The ties that bind

by shunkaha

Chapter SIX is here. Plus: Random information about TTTB nobody really needs to pass the time until chapter seven is here. Have fun!

2. Chapter 2

The ties that bind - Chapter Two

DISCLAIMER: The Magnificent Seven and Without a Trace are not mine. The ATF universe is all MOGs and there are not enough words in the world to thank her for that. I am writing this just for fun. The lyrics are from the song "St. Elmo's Fire", performed by Jon Parr on the movie soundtrack of the same name and the song "Home" by cringe Westlife. Yeah, I knooow. I don't really like the band or the song, but the lyrics are nice. AUTHOR'S COMMENT: I am SORRY this took so long! Real life got in the way! But I am sure as hell not abandoning this. There'll be a longer comment at the end of this chapter.

And two more things: English is not my native tongue, so please don't be mad if there are (tons of) typos in this. And: I am still fighting with the formatting system. It seems to hate me. Example: All my question marks seem to disappear. So whenever there's no punctuation at the end of a sentense, it's most likely a missing question mark. grumble

SPOILERS: For all of you who kow Without a Trace: This takes place somewhere half way through season two of the show. I used a few refferences to episodes of season one : "Pilot" , "Birthday Boy", "Midnight Sun" , "In Extremis". Season two: "A tree falls.
ERRATA: Of corse Milo Derringer got 7 years of prison sentence (which was reduced to four years) and not just two. My bad. Oops. (Otherwise the timeline doesn't make any sense)
When Martin mentioned the Rangers it should have been FOUR years. Not three. Oops No. 2. Of corse Martin did two years "White Colar" in SEATTLE, not in DC. Oops No. 3.

AH! Wait! I wanted to thank the reviewers!

Ginevra: Achem. Wanna now a secret? I have no idea where this will go. I make things up while I write! And thank you for liking Maddie, a lot of people hate OC s!

Sandy: Ahaha, thank you for the review and sorry this took so long. He will meet them eventually :) MistX: Wow, thank you for the long review! And you are right about a few things. Which, I won't tell!

Slea: Here you are :) I hope you like it. And Thanks for the review!

And a special thank you to Kristina ! I really enjoyed our little email - conversation!

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"You know in some way you're a lot like me

me you're just a prisoner trying to break free."

---

"You know what? I'll take the couch. Get some shut eye. You should try that, too. Still got a few hours before you have to leave for work, right"
Martin was a little baffled about that change in topic – but on the other hand, that was pure Maddie. He had always struggled to keep up with her fast moodswings and her way to jump from one topic to the next in an instand. So all he could do was nod. She yawned loudly and waved at him. "Now what? You wanna watch? Give a girl some privacy." And with that , he was ushered into his bedroom. Later, he couldn't even remember how he got into the bed.

That night, he dreamed of the world suddenly turning upside down, and of screeching sounds like metal scraping over pavement – followed by darkness, pain and confusion. The panic rising inside him felt so real. And the pain. He heard voices, talking to him, trying to reach him. But they sounded muffled, like he was underwater. He could not understand what they were saying. It sounded like they were asking him questions. No. It was always the same question, repeated over and over. He tried to understand, to get the meaning of that question instead of only hearing the voice. But pain was flaring up in his back and his head was pounding and everything hurt and god dammnit, he couldn't understand a word the voices were saying. Even in the darkness he could feel that something was not right, no, something was indeed terribly, terribly wrong. He had the nagging feeling that he should be somewhere else, that all this was not real, but still there was this voice asking that same stupid question again and again. He tried to make them understand that he was obviously to far away to hear what they were saying, but no words came out of his mouth. It felt like he was caged, he couldn't move and why was it so dark? The panic increased and that voice wouldn' t stop asking him things he could not answer. He tried to make it stop, to tell the voice to leave him alone, but the pounding in his head increased and it all got too much. Finally, after trying to listen really hard, he managed to make out two words in the chaos of them muffled voices. He knew those words. "Fitzgerald"… and …"D.C.".

It wasn't like some of those typical "waking from a nightmare –scenes" you sometimes saw on TV where the person sits upright in bed or even screams. No, there was no way of telling where the nightmare ended and reality began. Darkness. It was still dark. But the pain was gone and thank god for that. It was still hard to breathe. It took a few minutes for his heartbeat to slow down to normal and even longer for his eyes to make out the shapes of the furniture in the darkness. Finally he turned his head to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand. 4:47. Great. Well, at least he had slept for – wow – two hours. But going back to sleep was out of question, because after that nice nightmare experience he was wide awake. It wasn't the dream itself. No, he had had dreams – nightmares – like this before. But the last one of those had been… years back. And that was what worried him. He had had the occasional nightmare every few weeks after being "back", but after a while, it had stopped. So why now? And why about THIS! Ha, he mocked himself mentally. Like you don't know. He tried to ban that mocking voice into the darkest corner of his mind and rose from the bed. Not caring to switch on the light he padded around in the darkness to find his clothes. He was not afraid of the darkness. No, that would have been a hindrance back then. In fact he had no problem moving around in the darkness, finding his way without light. But that didn't mean he liked it. So stepping into the bathroom and switching on the light in there was a bit of a relief. Looking out of the window he was not surprised to see the first traces of dawn around the edges of the skyline. Well, it was still early, but maybe the perfect time for his morning run. Since sleep was out of question. He stepped out of the bathroom and into the living room, scanning the place for his running shoes which had somehow vanished from the spot next to the door to his apartment where he usually left them.

"Plant", came a muffled voice from the couch. For a moment he was surprised, then he remembered. Maddie. And he was even more surprised when he found that she was right - his running shoes had been neatly placed half behind a potted plant. Maybe she had stumbled over them and eliminated the "danger".

"Thanks", he answered with a smile and slipped into the shoes. Her head appeared when she sat up, her hair an unruly, auburn mess. She mumbled something to herself, scratching her head.

"Time s'zit?"

"Almost five."
The answer was a groan and something that sounded like "Oh my god." She watched him for a moment and then snorted.

"You," she stated seriously, "are insane." He just laughed. Maybe she was right.

"What will you do?"

She let herself sink back into the cusions. "I don't know. Sleep? Something that's a little more mature than running around in the streets of New York at five in the morning?"

Now he snorted. "Like what? Watching cartoons?"

She smiled dreamily. "Problably."

------------------------------------------

"You know WHAT? I'm outta here!"

The explosion had not come unexpected. They had worked on two different, very complicated cases at the same time, including extensive research and undercover work. Chris had given out one asignment after the next to somehow organise the chaos that was about to destroy all their hard work. Next to that he'd had to argue with Travis and the other team leaders about almost every step he took to prevent his team from losing one of the cases they had put so much work into. They had worked with other teams on several occasions – except for time 9 if they could avoid it, thank you very much – to get things right. But between justifiying their every move, countless nights without sleep and trying to stick to protocol as far as possible, things had gone downhill. While they had only managed to arrest their first suspect for possesion of illegal firearms (not for dealing with them), that was acceptable compared to their second case - which had ended with two members of team 4 in the hospital, a horrendous amount of bureau eqiupment torn to shreds and an insane weapons dealer on the run. In short: they'd had nothing except for a filthy guy from California screaming for his lawyer who had been free and back in the streets in no time. Of corse they had all been tired and frustrated, trying to avoid any confrontation. Well, all except Vin of corse. While he was usually not a man of many words, he never held back with his oppinion if he felt that he was right about something. Usually that was a good idea, but facing off Chris about a desaster like this was probably not. This had ended in the usual Chris and Vin "arguement" – which meant that they would stare at each other angryly for minutes, just to start shouting at each other out of nowhere, which was again followed by angry glares and silence. And so on and so forth. It had not only been erie, but also unnerving. And… later they had all agreed on the fact that on that day, something had been different. Like this argument hadn't been about the bust, but about something else entirely. Something essential and much more important. Finally, Vin had grabbed his coat and stated that he was "outta here" – which was usually his way of saying that he was taking a few days off.

"In your dreams!" Chris had growled back and they had again stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Chris had crossed his arms, asking Vin through his teeth how long he would be gone.

"Two weeks. No less." After that, Vin had turned around on his heels and left the office without looking back. In the end, Chris had somehow managed to convince Travis to give their whole team the two weeks off before facing fhe aftermath of the mess. During the first week Buck and JD had stayed in contact with Josiah and Nathan, while Vin, Chris and Ezra had been unreachable. In the middle of week two Buck had finally visited Chris and talked some sense into him… and from one moment to the next, they had been standing in Vin's arpartment in Purgatorio. In Vin's EMTPY apartement in Purgatorio.
That had been four years ago.

Buck sighed. Sitting here in the office at five in the morning thinking about that would not help, he knew that. But since JD and him had to catch up on some paperwork (as usual), they'd both agreed to get in early today. While JD was obviously typing away like crazy, Buck couldn't really find the heart to even start his report. "Would you stop brooding?" JD's voice suddenly startled him. "Chris is doing enough of that for all fo us together." He had stopped typing and was now staring at his friend.

"Sorry." JD's eyes narrowed while he was munching away on a leftover taco.

"You should really start writing that report, you know"
"I know." JD sighed. This was going nowhere. Usually, a situation like this – being in early and having the whole office fto themselves – would have lead to food fights, loud music or the preperations for a practical joke at the others expence. But today the mood was… subdued. He didn't like that. So, diversion.
"When are the others gonna be in?" Buck thought for a moment.

"Josiah's gonna be early as usual, maybe in thirty. Nathan around seven, just like Chris. And you know Ezra – he's not gonna be in before nine." JD snorted. "Make that ten."

"Probably."

"What about Gabe? He with us today?"

"Nah, don't think so." Buck reached for a Taco. "Rumor says something really went wrong on Simm's latest case, so they'll need everyone."

JD looked over at the desk Gabe Kincaid usually occupied whenever he helped out.

"You know," he added, deep in thought, "for a member of team nine Gabe is an ok guy – and one hell if a shot. Besides, he spends more time here than with his own team anyways. So why-"

"JD," Buck growled, knowing where this was headed. "Leave it." JD lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Gee. Calm down. I was just sayin'." "Yeah. I know." In that moment, they could hear the phone in Chris' office start ringing. JD frowned when the number appeared on the display of his phone too.

"Mhm. Speak of the devil." After mouthing a silent "Gabe" to Buck, he answered the phone with is usual enthusiasm. "Hey Gabe, what…nah, he isn't in yet. Uhuh… oh. Okay. Sure. I'll tell him. No problem. Yeah. Okay bye." JD frowned and shook his head.

"No THAT was strange." He turned in his chair to face Buck. "Gabe just told me that he's not gonna be in town for a while and that it's related to their case…" Buck shrugged. "What's so strange about that?"

"I don't know. It's not what he said. More HOW he said it. Buck, he sounded like somebody died."

That caught the other man's attention. They'd known Gabe for a while. He had started helping out at team seven about two years ago and kept on visiting them almost once a week. The red haired, friendly man was in his mid - thirties and usually kept in the background. He had a friendly word for everyone and rarely showed anything but his trademark, shy smile. He would have never worried JD by giving away what he felt like he just did – so this had to be serious. Buck sat up in his chair.

"What's team nine's latest case?" JD answered with a grim expression of his own.

"Let's find out."

--------------------------

Martin stepped out of the elevator and checked his watch. Six thirty. He took a deep breath. Still early. Well, this wouldn't change anything about the fact that hell would break lose in about… three and a half hours. He hadn't been able to enjoy his run and had returned back to his apartment after only half an hour. Maddie had surprised him with a breakfast (consisting of burned toast and coffee that was nothing more than brown water) and the wonderful news (insert sarcasm here) that she had just called her office to take a few more days off. Oh, the joy. Of corse she had generously offered to stay in a hotel, all the while knowing that Martin would never refuse to let her stay. After only a few minutes she had convinced Martin that letting her stay at his appartment had been his idea from the beginning. Or so she thought. Now, why did that remind Martin of someone else he had once known..? The smile on his face died immediately when he found out that one of the desks in their part of the open office was already occupied. Danny. Great. Martin cursed through his teeth – something he'd caught himself doing quite often lately – and sighed. Well, it had to happen sooner or later. So he stepped up to his own desk and sat down. Danny seemed engrossed in whatever it was he was reading and didn't bother to look up from his computer screen. Of corse he had already realised that he was no longer alone. Martin watched him for a while and finally gave up. "What are you doing?"

"Research," was the tight lipped reply. Uh-oh. It had to be bad if Danny, who almost never sat still and who was able to talk a mile a minute – in various languages – gave one syllable answers. Huh. Two could play that game. "About what?"

"You."

Well shit. "Uhuh."

"Yeah, because you know," now Danny stood up and stared at him, "there are obviously a lot of things that we didn't know about you."

"We?" Of corse this question was just a lame diversion – Martin knew that Danny hadn't talked to anyone about that little "incident" on the shooting range yet. He wouldn't do that. But Martin was willing to cling to the last piece of straw if it helped getting out of this – whatever this was. Because Danny was now leaning against the desk next to Martin's and stared at Martin with that look on his face. That look he usually used on suspects who were obviously lying. And Martin didn't really like to be on the receiving end of one of those looks. So huh, maybe attack was the best defence. He tried to glare back and crossed his arms. "What?" Danny's eyes narrowed even more and now he too crossed his arms.

"Greg Pritchard."

For a moment Martin was at a loss and almost stumbled over his own words. "What the – excuse me?"

"Greg and Kyla Pritchard," Danny went on, his voice calm. "Of corse you remember them. The guy who went into witness protection program and had to lie to his wife for years…"

"Of corse I remember them," Martin interrupted him harshly, feeling his patience slipping away.

"And of corse you remember what happened after the hearing, right in front of the Federal Courthouse that day. Don't you?" The arlarms in Martin's head went off. He now knew what Danny was getting at. And that wasn't good.

"That little show we had planned out to get Pritchard out of the line of fire." Danny stepped closer to Martin's desk, invading his personal space on purpose. "But you were not quite sticking to the plan, were you?"

"What are you talking about?" Martin demanded, although even to his own ears it sounded lame. Danny nodded slowly, his trademark smirk flashing. "Well, then let me explain it to you, Martin. Pritchard was wearing a vest, just as planned. He was surrounded by people – reporters, agents, bystanders. And then there was the sharpshooter on the roof of the building, just like we expected. He fired at Pritchard, Prichard went down, panic ensued. And you…" He paused there to glare at Martin once more, "you had to go and shoot at the guy on the roof."

"Jack told me to make it look real!" Martin shot back, feeling more cornered than ever before in his life. Right here and now, everything started to break into tiny pieces.

"Oh, and you did," Danny went on, smirking again. "But that wasn't just show, right? That was the real deal. You were really going for it. You could have hit that guy on the roof."

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Damn. Damn! Calm down, Martin chided himself mentally. Losing it in the middle of the office will get you nowhere. He knew himself well enough to know that he sometimes said or did stupid things when he was angry. And obviously Danny knew that, too. He took a deep breath and decided to try something else. Since diversion was never really working when Danny was on to something, Martin decided to play along.
"Is this what you've been doing all morning? Reading through our files to find information on ME!"

Danny just spread his arms, a file in one hand. "Okay, great." Martin was at a loss. "And now what? Are we gonna go through every single case and – what?"

"Maybe you are right and I am imagining things", Danny went on, still smirking. "But what about… Anwar Samir?"

And before Martin could stop himself, he was out of his chair.

"Back off," he growled, unable to keep his usual calm. "You don't know anything about that." He took a step closer to Danny. Danny snorted. "Oh yeah? Well, Abner Harrington from JTTF and Jack had a nice little chat about the whole desaster afterwards."
"So? There's nothing – "
"About how you remained in the line of sight of the sharpshooters for minutes."

"What are you –"

"On purpose"
"There's nothing – "
" Like you knew exactely where they were."

"I DID!"

For a moment there was silence. Danny and Martin stared at each other and finally Martin sank back into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat. "What do you want, Danny?" Martin didn't care to look up, but he could hear Danny pulling up another office chair and sitting down right next to Martin. "I want to know everything." Now Martin did look up and came face to face with a smirking Danny, hands innocently folded on the desk. "Every gory detail." Martin frowned. He felt a lot better now that Danny wasn't on the warpath anymore – but he didn't like THIS situation either. "About me." "Yes." "You want to know everything about me. Right now." "Yes and yes. I am waiting."

"Like what?"
Danny groaned. "I don't know. Let's start with that White Colar guy from Seattle who went after a crazy computer nerd alone or tackled a suspect like it was nothing." Martin scratched his head. "I told you, that was…"

"Sixth grade swim class, I know. And it's bullshit. I'm not Jack."

"Could have fooled me." Danny just gave him a glare, his fingers drumming away on the desk. "Okay, " he finally sighed, "let's start with your file. There's nothing unusual in there, nothing that indicates – "
Martin's eyes narrowed. "You got your hands on my file! How did you – "
"Would you STOP avoiding my questions!" Danny exploded, his paitence finally gone. "I want answers and I want them now. Okay, what about Seattle. Were you really there? White Collar?"

"Yes."

"So that part is true."

"Yes. Although it was more like one and a half year instead of two."

"Then why – how…" Now Danny was obviously at a loss. "Who are you?" he finally asked, suddenly sounding tired. Martin turned to look out of the window. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you." For a few agonizing minutes there was again silence. Finally, Danny stood up and turned to walk over to his desk. But then he stoppend and turned towards Martin again. He again had that look on his face. Like something had clicked inside his head.
Oh shit, Martin thought. Here we go again.
"What was it about Milo Derringer that set you off like that yesterday?" That caught Martin by surprise. "What?"

"Oh come on – you were out of your chair and gone like you saw a ghost. Next thing I know you're hiding at the shooting range shooting targets to shreds." Well damn. So Martin hadn't been as invisible as he had thought.

"Morning," a voice interrupted them and Vivian walked by, carrying more than a dozen file folders to her desk. "Whoa, Viv," Danny answered in surprise, following her. Martin sighed feeling a lot lighter now that he wasn't the center of Danny's attention any more. "Didn't Jack order us to 'sit on our hands'?" Danny leaned against Vivian's desk and crossed his arms. "Officially, this case is still ours," she shot back, "so I am going to do some research on our guy. Something doesn't add up. And I'm going to find out what." Now that got his attention. "Any ideas?" he urged her on, now all business. "Well, for example," she showed him a copy of the old timeline she had drawn out on a piece of paper. "Derringer moved into the appartment only one and a half weeks earlier – and his landlord already wants him to pay his rent? For what? Two weeks?"

"Mhm." Danny thought about that for a moment. Although it wasn't unusual for apartment owners in an area like that to keep an eye on the tenants, this was indeed a little far fetched. "So you think this was about something else?" Vivian nodded. "That, or it wasn't Arnold Stark who called us." Danny frowned. "But the identification of the recorded call was positive."

"Yes it was," Viv agreed. "But techs also told us that Stark sounded drunk."

"Yeah, Sam listened to it, she said he was stuttering, stumbling over his own words, losing his train of thought…"

"Right." She stared at the photograph of Derringer which was still attached to the white board. "Maybe Stark recognized our friend over there. Maybe he panicked." "Recognized him from where? Nobody seems to know anything. And why did Stark call the FBI? Why not the police? And why would he come up with this story about the rent?"

"Like I said," Viv sighed, "a lot of things don't add up." She turned back to the files and started reading again. A few minutes later Sam and Jack arrived – accompanied by an agent Danny and the others had never seen before. Vivian frowned, checking her wristwatch. "That was fast. He's two hours early".

"Here goes," Danny muttered when they all sat down at the big table in the center of their part of the office. Martin tried his best to stay calm. This could not be happening. He didn't really recognize this guy, but he had a gut feeling that things would go downhill from here on out. He held on to a piece of paper and a pen for dear life. If this guy recogized him, if he said anything… The agent who had arrived together with Jack and Sam was maybe in his mid - thirties and had red, a bit spikey hair that made him look younger than he was. His eyes darted from one person to the next, taking it all in in mere seconds. "Gabe Kincaid, ATF Denver," he introduced himself. "And before I start, there is something you should know." That surprised them, even Jack seemed to be taken aback. "I am not here to brief you so that you can take over the case."

"What?" Danny hissed, while Martin was busy finding out if he had seen this man before or not. But the face wasn't familiar - and that confused him. He had expected Simms, since he was the leader of team 9. Where was he? And who was this guy?
Kincaid took a deep breath. "This is still an ATF case and that is not about to change. I was sent here to find out whatever you have on our suspect and to tell you to forget about it."

"Excuse me?" Jack growled and stood up. But the young man stayed calm. "I said, that is what I was sent here to do. This whole thing is just a gesture, a little show for the reports. Officially, I am not even allowed to tell you anything." His face darkened.

"Of corse this is about our nice inter – agency family feuds, it's like a tradition you don't break. About staying on your side of the fence. And we all know that it is a load of crap." Before anyone had time to comment on that, he opened a file folder and threw it onto the desk. "So I'll tell you what we know – but that is all I can do. And I'll do it only because I believe you deserve to know what is going on. This whole thing started about four years ago when Derringer was arrested by our team."

Martin's eyes narrowed. So this guy WAS a member of team 9. Mhm. That was strange. In spite of the little rivalry between teams nine and seven they'd never really hated each other – well, except Simms and Chris. So who was this? He didn't remember him. "He was sent to prison for seven years," Kincaid explained, "but he made a deal and testified in court, helping to bring down a weapons ring he had connections to. He would have been put into the Witness Procection Programm as soon as his prison sentence was over."

"So?" Danny interrupted him. "Why break out of prison then?" Kincaid nodded darkly. "This is… where things get a little more… personal."

He took his time to go on. "Obviously one or two of Derringer's old "friends" contacted him in prison." "He was threatened," Jack thought aloud. "And it scared him enough to risk running away instead of being protected by the authorities."

"Yes," Kincaid agreed darkly, "that was our first impression too. Until one of our team members was attacked."

The temperature in the office dropped to freezing. "When?" Jack asked hollowly.
"Two days ago. He was attacked right in front of the apartment building he lives in. Obviously the shot was fired from a very short distance – it's a miracle he's still alive. They are still trying to stabilize him, but it's not looking good."

"This is insane," Martin whispered to himself. He remembered Josiah telling them about Derringer's file, about the man himself. According to what Josiah had found out, Derringer had never been the brightest bulp in the lamp, just a sneaky, unnerving bastard. It suited him to testify in court to save his own life. But everything else – breaking out of prison, trying to kill a Federal agent – all this was just crazy. Or not? Josiah had warned Chris back then that Derringer was unpredictable. But the whole bust … he remembered how they had made fun of team nine, how easyly Simms and his boys had pulled it through. It was just… I didn't sound right. "How do you know it was Derringer?" Jack asked, his face dark.
"We don't," Kincaid sighed. "It was dark and the few witnesses we havedescribed a man in a coat, that's all. But Forensics found out that the… the bullets matched the weapons type we found on Derringer when we arrested him four years ago." Sam snorted, but caught herself immediately. "He seems to be a bit… careless," she tried to save the situation. "Well," Kincaid shot back sharply, "not careless enough to leave any witnesses of the attempted murder of Agent Carsson."

"Bailey Carsson!" Martin gasped before he could stop himself. He didn't even realise how everyone turned around and stared at him. All he could see and hear was that scene from four years ago. He was sitting on a rooftop, hearing Chris' voice over the radio.

"You know, you don't really need to be up there. Simms has his own sharpshooter in position"
"Yeah, right, I can see him. Looks like Simms sent Carsson up here. Sits on top of that stupid hardware store to your right. Won't hit a thing from that angle. I swear to god, that kid is as blind as a fucking mole."

Shit. This was – this was insane. How… He blinked. Now he DID realise that all eyes were staring at him. Oh God, no. Not now. Not like this. "I… I'm sorry," he stuttered. Kincaid frowned. He didn't say anything, but his eyes never left Martin. "So this means this guy is no longer in New York, but in Denver?" Martin asked carefully. This situation was slowly getting out of hand. "If it was Derringer at all," Jack corrected him.
"Or someone who wanted to make it look like it was Derringer," Sam added. Again silence settled over the conference table. "Wait a second," Danny spoke up again. "This guy broke out of prison, he even is a suspect in the attempted murder of a Federal agent – and nobody knows anything! Shouldn't there be at least half a dozen Federal agencies on the warpath already?"
"Of corse," Kincaid agreed, "and they will be soon enough. But until there is proof that Derringer actually shot a Federal agent, this is an ATF only case. And the officials will do everything to keep it that way. Like I said, it's still our side of the picket fence. But to be honest, everybody knows that we have 48 hours at best before things will get ugly." He sighed deeply. "And that is the only reason I am here. To warn you. Because there WILL be questions. A lot of questions, and you will have to give answeres, too."

"About what?" Danny growled. "We don't know anything besides from what you told us."

"Maybe we do." Everyone turned to stare at Viv who had stayed at her desk since Kincaid arrived. She held several pieces of paper in her hand. "This is a list of the phone calls made from the apartment Derringer – Derning – used. For the first 4 days there's nothing interesting, most of those numbers are delivery services - seems like he ordered a lot of Pizza and Chinese food. But then, " she pointed at several numbers that were marked in red, "he started calling this number again and again. The calls only lasted a few seconds each, so either he hung up or whoever he was calling didn't want to talk and hung up on him." She grinned. Obviously the best part was yet to come. "The number belongs to someone here in New York. The last time he called the number was three days ago – it fits into the timeframe. If he was the one who attacked your colleague. " Silence followed, but this time it was a busy silence. The heads of the Missing Persons Team started working all at the same time, following a procedure they had used hundreds of times before. Jack turned to Kincaid.
"Does Derringer have a family? A wife maybe, a girlfriend?" Kincaid was obviously a little taken aback by the countless questions, but he caught himself quickly. "No, I doubt a guy like him has any friends, he lives for his business. He's a greedy little bastard, you know? It's all about money. And he's not married. While we observed him we saw him with this one woman a few times – Darlene McEvoy, she lives in Denver." He sighed again. " They fought most of the time. If they ever had a relationship, it was long over, even back then. He didn't seem to be the type of man for a relationship anyway. We observed her for a while and even questioned her later. But she only stated what we had already guessed: that they had been in a relationship a long time ago. Aside from a few arguments, he never contacted her." He sighed once more. "But all that doesn't matter right now. Because this… is officially our team's last day on this case."

"WHAT!" Danny shouted, once again at a loss. This whole thing was turning into a nerve wracking desaster. "But you just told us that this was still an ATF case…"

"Yeah well, it is," Kincaid stated sourly. "Butlike I said, it's no longer ours. Another ATF team will deal with it from here on out."

"You are emotionally involved, " Vivian stated. For the first time, Kincaid grinned. "And from this moment on officially suspended." Then his face turned dark again. "You can imagine that we didn't take losing this case …lightly."

"So this is it? We are off the case too?" Sam wanted to know. Kincaid turned to her, his face a mask. "It looks like it, Agent Spade. The team that takes over the case might contact you if there are any more questions. If you'll excuse me now, I have to be back in Denver in a few ours to visit a friend in the hospital. I am sure you understand." With that, he turned and left the office.

"Whoa," Danny breathed. "Now what?"

Martin tried to calm down. Okay. Maybe this was it. Maybe it was over and everything would work out. Well, Danny knew now, but besides that, things could still…
For a while, nothing happened. Jack was on the phone in his office, Viv was still reading through phone logsand Sam tried to recreate the Derringer – timeline on the white board. Then, Jack emerged from his office and stepped up to Viv. "Good work. Stay on it – see if you can find out who's number Derringer called." She grinned. "Already on it."

"Danny: Get in contact with the ATF and Denver - we have to know what exactrely happened when that ATF agent was shot." Danny snorted. "They'll be happy to help out."

"I don't care," Jack growled. "Sam: check the flights to Denver, if Derringer hasn't grown wings he has to appear somewhere." She smiled. "So we are not off the case?" He snorted. "The hell we are." Then he turned on his heel.

"Martin – my office. Now."

For a second Martin just stayed where he was, glued in place. Well damn.

------------------------------------------------------

It was way past eight when Chris finally arrived, his face a dark mask that made everyone flinch. "Conference room. Now." JD turned to Buck his eyes huge, but the other man only shrugged. This was not good. During the last hour they had tried to find out more about team nine's latest case – which had lead them to a ton of contradictionary information - but obviously something else was more important than that. Or Chris had beat them to it. A few minutes later they were gathered aroud the huge table in the conference room, waiting in silence. Usually, a morning in this ATF office was more a chaos than actually a coordinated routine, so this was… strange.

"First of all," Chris began, "Travis ordered us to put all research on the Blakeley case on hold for now." This was followed by shocked expressions and mumbled protest, since they had been working on the case for more than a month already. Josiah was the only one who stayed calm. "What happened?"

Chris took a deep breath, his face still dark and unreadable. "Bailey Carsson was attacked right in front of his house."

"What! " Buck burst out. "When! And why didn't anyone inform us?"
"Two days ago. The shot was fired from a very close distance as it seems – they don't think he'll make it." "He was shot?" Nathan asked carefully. "By whom? And why?"

"Revenge?" JD guessed. "It wouldn't be the first time someone..."
"They don't know," Chris interupted them, his voice deadly calm. "but it seems Milo Derringer escaped from prison a few days ago."

"Derringer?" Josiah thought aloud, already going through the file in his head. Once he had read a file, he hardly ever forgot something connected to it. "I heard about his deal. He would have been released and put into Witness Protection in… I am not sure, maybe a few more weeks."

"So why would he take the risk of running away instead of being protected by the authorities?" Ezra thought aloud, "This does not make sense." "And why would he attack Bailey?" Buck added. "As far as I know, they never even met, they send someone else undercover." "Even on the day they arrested him, Carsson was sitting on a roof top, remember?" JD gestured wildly. "Nobody could have seem him up there!"

"Yeah, right, I can see him. Looks like Simms sent Carsson up here. Sits on top of that stupid hardware store to your right. Won't hit a thing from that angle. I swear to god, that kid is as blind as a fucking mole."

"…ris? Chris!" Chris blinked. For a moment he had been back out there in the dark and the cold, hiding behind a stupid, parked car, listening to a friend's voice. Damn. Concentrate. "I can't answer your questions," he said, his voice hoarse. "But the point is: Travis suspended team nine after Simms lost it and threw a fit when he heard he was off the case. And although that's understandable under the circumstances, I agree with Travis here. So…" "So they asked you to take over the case?" Buck shot his oldest friend a knowing glance. "Yes," was the simple answer. "Whoa, hold it," JD almost jumped out of his chair. "A federal agent was attacked in the open – and this is still an ATF case? How? I mean what is this all about! Derringer is running around free and Bailey was attacked – and nobody knows anything!"

"All information about this case and everything connected to it is classified for now," Chris growled, glaring at JD – who unterstood and sat back down in silence. "But I don't know for how long," Chris went on. "Travis is trying his best to cover it up, but there are already other agencies involved as it seems. They sent Gabe to deal with that. As soon as he returns, he'll be off the case, too."

"So that's why Gabe's out of town," Buck thought aloud. "Yes." Chris put six brown manila folders onto the desk. "As I said, Travis asked us to take over here. Nothing's decided yet, but I want you to read through these anayway, get up to date."

"What will you do?" Josiah asked carefully. They all were aware of the… memories this case could and would bring back. But if Chris caught the tone in Josiah's voice he didn't react on it. "I'll have another talk with Travis – he's still a little rattled after Simm's little scene. Expecially since Simms is unreachable since he's been suspended."

-------------------------------------------------------------

For long moments, there was icy silence in Jack's office.

"Sit down." Martin was still in a state of shock and didn't react immediately.

"I said SIT DOWN"
Martin flinched and finally sat down in the chair in front of Jack's desk. The cold inside him was back. Danny he could have handled, maybe even fooled – but not Jack. Whatever Jack knew, it would end in a desaster – not only for Martin. Too much was on the line here. He felt strangely reminded of the day he had been in the exact same possition, telling Jack the truth about Franco Reyes' death. And he could only hope that this conversation wouldn't end as bad as the one back then had.

"Jack, I…"

"What was that all about?" Jack interrupted him immediately, his voice dangorously calm.
"What?"

"You know exactely what I am talking about," Jack growled. "What do you know about that ATF agent – Bailey Carsson? You knew his name. Nobody ever mentioned him before."

Oh damn. Think, THINK! Something…

"That… was a misunderstanding, I just.."

"The HELL it was!" Okay. So that didn't work. New tactic.
"I am sorry if this has caused you any trouble Jack. It was just… I am sorry. It won't happen again." Jack's eyes narrowed even more – and Martin knew that he was in trouble. Even more so than he had thought.

"Don't do that," Jack shot back, his voice sounding hollow. "Just don't. It won't work. And I think we deserve more than that."

Martin hung his head in defeat. He had tried so hard. They could not know about this, about him and his past. Careers depended on that. On him. "I just… I can't. Tell you, I mean." He heard Jack sigh.

"Martin, I am not stupid. I knew about the holes and inaccurancies in your file from day one. Back then I thought this was your father's doing." When Martin snorted, Jack had to grin.

"You have to agree that that wasn't too far fetched. Anyway, since your recommendations were excellent, I thought to hell with it." There was another moment of silence.

"But now…" He sighed. "You are aware that most of the training sessions down at the shooting range are recorded for security reasons?" Well fck.
"No," Martin cringed. "I mean it's understandable, but I didn't…." …think if that, he added mentally.He could kill himself. How could he have been so stupid! Of corse there had to be security cameras around. He desperately begged for a hole in the ground to open up and swallow him right now. Jack took a deep breath. Uh-oh. Martin knew this strained look on Jack's face. This could only mean one thing – and Martin desperately hoped he was wrong.

"Your father and I had a nice little chat on the phone a few minutes ago."

Could it get any worse?
Jack shot Martin a sharp glance. "He ordered me to take you off the case "
Martin swallowed. The house of cards finally fell and shattered.
"What… what did you say?" Jack snorted. Did his agents really not know him better by now?

"I said "What case?" because officially, all Kincaid told us was to mind our own business and forget about Derringer. And since we are good agents, we did just that."

"What?" Okay, cool FBI agent or not, for a moment Martin forgot to hide how confused he was. "What.. what did he say?"

Jack huffed. "What do you think? He threatened to come down here in person if we didn't – what did Kincaid call it? I really liked that."

"Stay on our side of the picket fence," Martin helped out before he knew what he was doing. Jack nodded, a knowing look in his eyes.
"You know Bailey Carsson, don't you?" But before Martin could answer that, Vivian knocked on the door and asked them to follow her.

"Jack, you should take a look at this," she explained, pointing at the new timeline, which held a lot more detail now. "We added the phonecalls to the timeline. The number belongs to a David Foley, 45, a librarian. He lives here in New York."

Jack frowned. "Who the hell is that? A contact of Derringer's? Someone who's supposed to help him? A poker buddy? WHAT!" Vivian and Sam exchanged a knowing glance. "We had no idea either," Sam stepped forward, "until we made a background check and…" "You will never guess who our librarian was married to for almost ten years." Vivian grinned.
Jack stopped in mid – motion. "Darlene McEvoy."

"Bingo," Viv chimed in. "They divorced about 4 years ago, he moved back to New York where his family lives." Martin, who had slowly reentered the open office, frowned. "But this doesn't make sense," he muttered. "I mean – Derringer is an idiot, but why should he call the ex – husband of an ex – lover?" Again everybody turned around and stared at him. He cringed. Way to go.
"They have any children?" Jack interrupted the silence, trying to ease the situation. "Yes," Sam answered, still eyeing Martin suspiciously. "Marissa, she's four years old – they divorced a few weeks after she was born."

Danny frowned. "Wow, our librarian seems to be a really nice guy."

"There's more, " Sam interrupted him, "when they got married Darlene McEvoy already had a daughter, Eve, who was 4 years old back then, so she should be around 18 now. She lives with her mother in Denver but visits Foley regularly." Jack thought for a moment.

"Mhm. It might be far fetched, but maybe she is the connection we are looking for." He turned to Sam.

"What about the flights?"
"Working on it."

---------------------------------------

A federal building, Denver, USA. The forteenth floor. The large, open office of ATF's Team Seven was not really bursting with activity. Just a few hours before a carefully planned bust had worked out perfectly and a long, draining case had finally come to a close. Well, not really – the paperwork still had to be done. And after a lot of complaining, the members of the team had finally settled down to get it over with. JD turned around in his chair, sighing. "Man, this is boring – why can't we get the day off again? We were out there all night!" "Because boss man said so, kiddo," Buck answered from his desk, not even bothering to turn away from his computer. JD snorted.
"Ah, come on, man. Doesn't look like no report to me what I can see from here. You chatting again?" Buck visibly flinched. "Shhhh!" he hissed. "No need to wake up sleeping dogs, if ya get what I mean." Now it was Ezra's turn to snort. "I think it is a little late for that, Mr. Wilmington. Not only can we hear every word that is spoken in this office, but also the screaming colors of that website you are using are not really easy to overlook." "Yes, brother," Josiah piped in. "If you tried to keep this a secret, you are not really good at it. Is it at least an interesting conversation?" "Interesting all right!" Buck shot back, grinning widely. "There is this girl on and she just told me that she"
"…is tall, blond and has blue eyes, is a nurse and likes tall men with dark hair yadda yadda yawn?" JD interrupted him, looking over Buck's shoulder. "Sorry to break it to you, pard – but that's Nathan you chatting with"
Buck's jaw litteraly hit the floor – and laughter errupted from the other end of the open office.

"YOU!" Buck exploded, stalking over to Nathan's desk. He was met by a look of pure innocence.

"What?" Nathan asked, barely keeping a straight face. Buck crossed his arms.

"I would have expected that from JD," he sputtered, "or even from Junior - but YOU!"

Now Nathan laughed again. "You know what I think about this chat room boogaboo. Told you that you can never be sure who you are talking to. And I just proved that I was right." A broad grin spread on his face and he held out his hand. "That be ten bugs for me, Mister." "What!" Buck barked, backing away.

"Oh, if I recall this right, you told us that you would ALWAYS know if someone in a chatroom fooled around with you, in lack of better words," Ezra announced sweetly. "Wasn't that just last week?"

"That's right," Josiah added. "You bet 10 bugs that you would know."

"Got you on that one, Buck," JD shouted and started laughing.
Nathan wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand.

"I am waiting." "

But I-" Buck stuttered, then he sighed. Finally, he gave Nathan the money and marched back to his desk, all the while muttering under his breath. "Hey, everyone look at that!" JD suddenly shouted while staring at his computer screen. "They really put this up!"

Nathan, Ezra and Josiah gathered around JD's desk, while Buck refused to pay attention.

"What is it?" Nathan wanted to know, the money still in his hand.

"The Derringer bust," JD answered while trying to supress his laughter. "Dean and the others put it on the intern network news page. Looks like there are more people around here who hate Simm's guts."

Now Buck couldn't stand it any more and his curiousity took the better of him.

"What's it say?" he asked, trying to move Josiah out of the way.
"Oh, a lot," Ezra pointed out, grinning ."They are really going into detail here. It mentions a strange detonation right after Mr. Derringer was handcuffed. According to this article, the detonation was followed by some devastating smell, resulting in almost all members of team 9 emptying their stomachs on themselves."

Josiah, Nathan and JD roared with laughter and Buck beamed with pride.
"Oh, oh and it get's better!" JD managed to get out between breaths. "When the clean up crew showed up, they not only found team 9 with puke all over their clothes, but also Simms with his pants at his ankles"
"…and over all there was the faint sound of country music," Josiah finished the sentence – before he and the rest of the team again errupted with laughter.

JD blinked, trying to clear his head. Man, that had been long ago. It felt like a lifetime. So much had changed since then. After their desperate search for a friend – which had lasted over a year and was was still on – they'd tried to find their way back into their everyday lives and their job. By now they had found their routine again… but the lightheartedness was gone. It somehow had dissappeared together with… well. Right now ATF team seven was scattered around their huge open office, reading through the Derringer file. JD sighed again, propping his feet up on his desk. "What?" Buck asked, looking up from his file. "I don't know," JD murmured, "something just doesn't sit right. I mean – what exactely are we doing here? Aside from reading through a file that is four years old? We don't even know yet if we are really taking over this case. Chris hasn't said anything since he's returned from Travis' office." "Mr. Dunne is right," Ezra agreed. "And even if we decide to take over this case, would that really be wise? As soon as it is announced that a Federal agent was the victim of an attempted assassination, we – and I mean we as in the whole team – will have to answer to the FBI – or worse." Buck couldn' t hide a grin. "And of corse you wouldn't like that, huh Ez?" Ezra gave him a disgruntled look. "No, Mr. Wilmington, I would most certainly not like that. And you shouldn't like this either, because inter – agency cooperation has never lead to any good." "He's got a point there," Nathan agreed. "Those Fibbies are worse than whiny children on the playground." "Yeah," JD agreed with enthusiasm. "They're like those guys in school who act like they know everything." "So you think whe should not take over the case" Josiah spoke up, turning to Ezra. "I never said that," Ezra slowly shook his head. "I just thought it would be a good idea to remind you that we are not just trying to arrest a weapons dealer here." "Right," Nathan agreed. "As soon as word get's out that a Federal agent was shot and that Derringer is a possible suspect…" "… hell will break lose and a witchhunt will begin," Josiah nodded deep in thought. "And we will be right there in the middle of it." "But…" JD thought aloud, swallowing hard. "It's not just about that, right? I mean… you know what I mean. Right?" "Right," Buck agreed darkly and stood up, heading for Chris' office. Of corse he felt the four pairs of eyes following him.

"Don't you ever knock?" Buck surely got the hint – but he chose to ignore it. He stepped into Chris' office and closed the door. Team seven's leader was staring out of the window, his back to Buck. A few minutes of silence ticked by. Buck crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited. They had played this game before. Usually, Buck had left after a few minutes, not able to bear the icy silence. But this time it was different. This time he would talk to Chris – even if he had to wait until morning. Chris sighed inpatiently and finally looked at his oldest friend.
"What?" he asked coldly.
Buck took a deep breath. "You might wanna sit down."

Chris snorted and directed his infamous Larabee glare at Buck. Most people were intimidated by that, even the members of team 7. But not Buck. Never Buck. Finally, Chris sat down behind his desk and waited again. No questions, no remarks, nothing. Well, Chris had never been a man of many words, but this silence reminded Buck too much of the time right after Sarah and Adam had… he shuddered and tried to chase those thoughts away. Bad timing.

"I was just wonderin'" Buck scratched his head. "What am I supposed to tell the others? Are we taking over the case or not? I mean, we've been reading through the file anyway and…"

"Not now."

"Then when? We are wasting time."

"I'll let you know soon enough."

Buck slowly shook his head . Well, now was as good a day as any other.

"This isn't really about Derringer or Simms or Travis. And we both know that"
If Chris reacted on it, Buck couldn't really see. Buck cursed mentally. It was about time. Chris just crossed his arms.
"I am not going to talk about that now."

"Now that's no surprise," Back growled back, "since you have avoided talking about it for almost THREE YEARS! Ever since we had to stop - " "Like I said, I am NOT going to discuss this with you – "
"I don't want you to DISCUSS it!" Buck shouted back. "I just want you to accept it. He's not here. He's gone. And it's not your FAULT"
Chris was out of his chair in a second, leaning over his desk, his face only inches away from Buck's.

"Don't YOU tell me what I gotta do," he growled, his eyes cold. "I decide what happens in this office. So I WANT you to just turn around and close the door behind you or I swear to god I will pull rank on you and BOOT you out"
Four yeasr ago, Buck would have been shocked by an outburst like this. Four years ago, Chris had been a different man. But now, after all that had happened he had almost expected a reaction like this. So he just stood where he was, waiting. Willing to take whatever his oldest friend would dish out. For Chris' sake. Instead of leaving the office, he pulled up the chair and sat down in front of Chris' desk. Chris was still standing there like a caged tiger, staring at Buck in disbelief. "You feelin' better now?" Buck asked calmly. After another minute of icy silence, Chris blinked. Slowly he sat back down. "Yeah," he sighed. Buck smiled. "Good. So, what's the plan?" Chris took a deep breath. He was really feeling better now – like part of a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. And once again he was thankful that the members of his team were more than just that – they were friends. From one moment to the next they were all business again – and that was an important part of their friendship: whatever happened, they never allowed it to get in the way of their job.

Chis shuffled through the file. "Okay, I'll go through the witness reports from the day Carsson was shot, we have to find out what exactely happened there. First one on the scene was a officer of the DPD, so I'll start there. I want Ezra to contact whoever was team nine's undercover agent in the case, maybe he can find something there. Josiah will have to update Derringer's profile, I want to know if he'd really be able to kill a Federal agent. Tell JD to check why Gabe was sent out of town and where – and who he has talked to. If the FBI is already involved I want to know who it is we'll have to deal with. And… " he frowned. "Simms ordered to question a woman named Darlene McEvoy just a few days before Derringer was arrested. I want you and Nathan to find out why. Question her again if you have to."

"Got it."

-----------------------------------------------------

Martin fidgeted. Of corse he felt the curious looks of the others. Vivian – well, she'd probably figured it out months ago. It was close to impossible to hide everything from her. She had the uncanny instinct to feel more than know when something was not how it should be. And while Sam kept on staring at him suspiciously since he'd blurted out what an idiot Derringer was, a constant, triumphant grin seemed to be glued to Danny's face, like he'd found the answer to one of the huge questions in life. Well, no surprise, since Vivian and Sam were still curious, Danny KNEW that Martin was hiding something. And that wasn't good to begin with. And although Martin was relieved that Danny wasn't angry at him any more, THIS was not good either. If Danny found out the whole truth, Martin would most likely never live it down. When Sam again turned around in her chair to stare at him, it was enough. He stood up and stepped out onto the balcony.
Fresh air. Nothing but the faint street noise below. God, he needed a break. And of corse his cell phone had to ring right then and there. He didn't bother to check the number. "Fitzgerald."

"You bastard!"

He flinched and held the cell phone at arms length for a moment. He took his time to hold it to his ear again, hoping the volume in her voice had lessend a but.

"Maddie! Why are you calling me on my work cell - "

"You are so DEAD!" No such luck. "

Mad! Would you stop screaming into the phone like that, I am not deaf! What happened?"

"Dad happened, you idiot! I will kill you!"

Okay, enough was enough. He knew Maddie well enough to know that her insults were not meant the way they sounded, but this was a bit too much.

"I said stop screaming! Are you still at my apartment!"

"Of corse I am!" He could hear her labored breathing through the phone – damn, she was angry. "

How do you think Dad got a hold of me!" Oh god.

"He… he's there!"

"No, but he called! And I went and answered the phone because I thought it was YOU! Why the HELL is there no caller ID on your stupid phone!"
Okay, he had to come up with something quickly to prevent this situation from getting completely out of hand. While he had never really found the strength to face his father, his sister was a league of her own. Somewhere during those years alone with their parents she had found out that the easiest way to make Victor Fitzgerald angry was to not take him seriously. So whenever they met, she refused to listen to him and whenever that wouldn't work, she'd just leave and somehow try to stay under his radar. He could bet that she had managed to avoid him since Christmas – and that was something. Well, her luck had to run out eventually.
"Okay, calm down. What did he want?"

"Oh, let me see," she snarled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "He wanted to know if I liked my new job, how the weather was in LA – of corse he wanted to talk to YOU! Imagine his surprise when I answered the phone!"

"Did he say why he wanted to talk to me?" he interrupted her carefully. It was never a good idea to do that when she was angry. For a moment there was silence on the other end of the line.

"No," she finally answered, most of her anger gone. "But he really sounded serious. What happened? How did that meeting go? Did they send someone you know?"

"No," he answered and finally felt some of the tension leave his body. "I don't know the agent they sent. But that doesn't matter any more, since their team is off the case anyway and another team will take over."

"Oh good. So when will you be home?" Uh-oh. This wasn't good. Of corse she was planning her revenge on him.

"I don't know," he answered quickly, "you know how it is."

"I will get you for this, you know."

"I know. How bad?" "He made me promise to visit them on my birthday! This is all your fault!"

"Ouch. I am sorry."

"Oh yeah, you're all heart! But…" He heard her sigh. "Martin, listen. Whatever it is he's up to – it's bad. I've never heard him talk like this since… you know."

Shit. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think. But this day had been crazy enough already and a million things were spinning around in his head.

"I.. thank you for calling. I can't deal with this right now, I… thank you. For back then. And for… you kow.. now."

"Yeah yeah. Just remember you owe me. Big time."

"Martin?" Danny opened the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony..

"Hey, is that Danny!" Maddie practically sqee -ed into the phone, her mood changing again. "Put him on!"

Martin groaned. He really wasn't up to dealing with both of them at the same time.

"Good bye, Maddie"
"Spoilsport. Bye." With that, the line went dead.
Danny's face lit up. "Maddie? She's in town? Cool!"
Martin rolled his eyes. "Back off"
"Now why should I do that? She's cute."
"She's my sister, Taylor."
"She's still cute."

- -

"You say I've been a stranger for too long -

I didn't even notice I was gone."

- -

"Okay," Vivian announced to get their attention. "Techs just got back to me – it wasn't David Foley who hung up when Derringer called – it was Derringer himself."

"So maybe he was expecting somebody else to answer the phone than the person who actually did," Danny thought.

"That's why he tried so often."

Jack nodded. "But if it wasn't Foley he wanted to talk to, then who – "

"It's Eve," Sam interrupted him from her desk, hanging up the phone. "I checked the flights between Denver and New York - and there was no flight booked for our friend Derringer - or Derning. He could have still used a fake identity, I'm checking that. BUT Eve McEvoy booked a flight from Denver to New York for eight thirty on Wednesday. She checked in, got on the pane, checked out, but never showed up to pick up her luggage. It's still there."

Jack's face darkened. "That was almost a week ago." He straightened. "Sam, Viv – I want you to visit David Foley and find out if he knows anything. I'll try to get a hold of Darlene McEvoy. If her daughter is missing, we got ourselves a whole new case. Danny, Martin: I want you to be ready to fly down to Denver – just in case." Danny's grin got even wider – if that was possible. Of corse he had long found out that whatever it was Martin was hiding – it had to do with the ATF in Denver. So huh. This would get interesting.

-------------------------------

Two ours later Vivian and Samantha knocked on the door to David Foley's apartment. They had already gone through Eve McEvoy's luggage at the airport, but a side from a few books and enough fresh clothes for at least a week, there had been nothing to give them any hints where she was headed or why. The apartment building looked clean and the neighbours were friendly. It was quiet – maybe a little too quiet. The man who shyly answered the door a few seconds later was in his mid – fourties, had brown, a bit curly hear and was wearing fragile looking, silver glasses. He eyed them suspiciously.
"Yes?"

"Mr. Foley?" Vivian made a step forward. "I am Special Agent Johnson and this is Special Agent Spade, we are with the FBI." The man's eyes narrowed, their IDs didn't seem to impress him.

"What… what do you want?"

"Mr. Foley," Sam spoke up carefully. "We would like to talk to you about Eve McEvoy. Is she here?" Foley's eyes turned huge.

"E- Evie!" he stuttered, now clearly in panic. "No, she's not – why should she be – is she alright!"

"Right now we don't know" Vivian tried again, "that's why we are here. Could you please let us in so that we can ask you a few questions?"

"Of corse!" He opened the door quickly obviouisly the mention of the girl's name had a strong effect on him. The apartment was small and stuffed with too many things. Bookshelves covered nearly every wall, even most of the windows were hidden by bookshelves. The small living room consisted of nothing more than a brown couch, a TV set and even more bookshelves. Cartons of leftover takeout were piled up on the snall desk next to the couch. He sat down on the couch, his hands visibily shaking.

"Please," he asked, his voice hoarse, "tell me, is Evie all right?"

"Like I said, we don't know," Vivian answered, sitting down next to him, but keeping her distance. "She booked a flight for Wednesday, but…" "Why would she do that?" Foley interrupted her, now clearly confused. "She told me she'd visit on the sixth, that's a month from now!" Then the rest of what Vivian had said seemed to sink in.
"Wednesday!" He shot up from the couch. "But that was last week, where is she! And why…" While Sam went for the bathroom, Vivian tried to calm the man down. "We don't know, Mr. Foley. She was on that flight, but never picked up her luggage once she was here in New York. Please, try to concentrate. Is there some other place or person she would go to aside from you?"

"No, of corse not! I mean I'm not her father – not her real father – but…"

A few minutes later they were back in the car and on their way to the office. Vivian sighed and opened her cell phone to call Jack.
"Anything new?" "You could say that," Vivian said, suddenly feeling very tired. "We talked to Foley and according to him Eve McEvoy never told him she was on her way to New York."

"Damn. What else?"

"He was totally devastated when we mentioned that she's most likely missing – like his whole world is turning around her. Although she only visitis him once, maybe twice a year. He told us that although he was married to Darlene McEvoy, he never adopted Eve. And now that she's eighteen, she'll probably want to live her own life – without him."

"So you think she never planned to visit him when she came to New York," Jack urged her on.
"Probalby", Vivian Took a deep breath. "He keeps on calling her "Evie", like she's still a small child. And Jack? Sam found anti- depressants in his bathroom. The hard stuff."

She heard Jack sigh. "Well, that's not enough to arrest him. We haven't been able to get in contact with Darlene McEvoy yet, so we'll be flying down there to get some information. You two will be alright?" Vivian smirked and lowered her cellphone. "He wants to know if we'll be okay while the boys play cowboy in Denver." For the first time in hours Sam laughed. "Tell him we are big girls.

--------------------------------

For a while, Martin just stared out of the window. So this was it. They were going to fly down to Denver to talk to Darlene McEvoy and, if they had to, to get information from the ATF team that was now assigned to the Derringer case. He sighed. This was the worst case scenario. Even while thinking about it, he had never come up with something like this. Somewhere during this mess his mind had become numb, but at the same time he had to use every ounce of self control he had to stop himself from laughing hysterically. After all this time, after all that had happened, it had come to this. And it wasn't even his doing! It was crazy. Yes. Not far away, Danny sat at his desk, once again Keeping an eye on Martin. This would indeed be interesting, he thought to himself. He was not sure about the others, but to him it was obvious now that Martin was hiding a lot of things. Not only the little incidend on the shooting range had given that away. There were all those tiny details that made a lot more sense now. In that moment, Martin's cell phone rang and Danny watched with a frown how Martin's face darkened when he answered the call.

"Father."

Oh shit. Danny cringed. This was not good, this was never good. The last time he'd heard from Victor Fitzgerald Jack had almost lost his job and the last time he'd actually SEEN the AD Martin had warned him with a growled "Hold on to your head" - and that hadn't been an exageration. The man demanded and got attention wherever he appeared. He always seemed to be surrounded by an icy cloud of authority that couldn't be ignored. And it was very well known that he never made empty threats. So when it came to Victor Fitzgerald, it was best to be invisible. Well, as far as that was possible. Martin stepped back out onto the balcony, but didn't notice that the glass door didn't really close behind him.
"Yes, I know why you are calling. Why you called Jack this morning, too," Danny could now hear Martin's voice answer to what was said on the phone and watched how Martin turned his back to the rest of the office, trying to hide whatever was going on.
"Yes, I remember that. No, we agreed on nothing, we never even discussed it."

There was another pause and Danny was starting to get worried. To describe Martin's relationship with his father as strained was the unterstatement of the century. And to Danny it was still not clear if Martin actuallly wanted his father to stay out of his life or if he still tried to please him by living up to his expectations. Mhm. Maybe it was a bit of both.
He could hear Martin snort.

"Hell, you can hardly call it a decision I made when you had to threaten.." At this, Danny straightened. Not good. "

MY best interest," Martin stated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "No. This is about you, like it's always been about you. You are only interested in me and my life when whatever I do could somehow reflect badly on you." Another moment of silence followed and even with his back turned to the office, Danny could see Martin tense.
"Yes, I am going." Martin hissed, "It's related to a case. NO! I told you before, I want you to stay out of.."

For a moment, Danny expected to finally hear "my life", but instead, Martin sighed in defeat.

"Yes, I know. There's no need to remind me. I don't have time to talk to you right now. No. Bye." After the end of the phonecall, Martin stayed out on the balcony for a second and Danny could have sworn to hear Martin say something like "fighting windmills" before turning around and stepping back into the office.

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Vin Tanner squinted into the red light of the setting sun. Damn, he was tired. They'd been working on these cases for months and they were all drained. Even moreso after the desaster only a few days ago. The bust had not really gone as planned and all they could arrest Pete Crane for was the possession of illegal firearms, not dealing with them. The man had been screaming for his lawyer for the last two days and would most likely be free in no time. Vin took another sip of his coffee and tried to get rid of the cold in his bones. He had thought staying on the roof and getting some fresh air would help with that, but no such luck. The atmosphere in the team was not the best, of corse not. Now everything depended on the second bust, they had to get Scarlini, Crane's partner. Trying to cover up that Crane had been arrested had been the hardest part. But they had made it, the deal was still going down tomorrow. Right, he reminded himself. Still work to do. He sighed and left the roof.
Halfway down the stairwell to the open-plan offices of team seven, Vin's cell phone rang. He stopped in his tracks, frowning. Something felt odd. Chris or the others would not call him since they knew where he was. Except for JD maybe, since he loved his cell phone. But they had better things to do now, so why should JD call him? No, it had to be something else. Checking his cell, Vin found that there was no number on the display. His frown deepened. This was not good. He reluctandly answered the phone – and visibly bleached.
"Mad!"

Half an hour later he found himself sitting on a chair inside the equipment locker. His usually smooth movements were jerky, unfocused. The room was small, almost cramped with equipment. Vin took a good look at the array of side arms and rifles laid out on the metal desk in front of him. Usually, he loved this kind of work. Usually, he didn't even have to think while doing it because usually, he was able to strip down, clean and check each and every single one of these weapons with his eyes closed. He knew that this was considered the "dirty work", no one really wanted to be the one to check on the equipment, but he actually LIKED it. He liked the quietness of the room, working on the weapons, concentrating on something like this. Something useful. He was no fool. He knew why his team members let him do it, why he was often ordered to do this instead of reading through files or waving through paperwork. But he didn't care. This was something he was good at. Usually. But today… his eyes fell on his cell phone on the desk, next to the weapons. Damn.
Why now!
Why ever?
Of corse he had always known that this day would come eventually. That it was inevitable. But – why? Would he ever be free of all this? He loved his work with team 7, hell, that crazy bunch was his family! And now… he didn't even dare to think of leaving. No. Not again. Not after all he had been through. It was just plain unfair. He hated himself. Hated himself for answering to phone. He knew exactely what this would mean for him. For the team. It was not right. Not FAIR. And to make it worse…
It scared the shit out of him. Because it meant that his time here was over. That it would start all over again. He had hoped that it would never come to this, but that had been naïve. He knew that he had to act now, while he still could.
And he was sitting here! There were so many things to do, he had to get away from here! He couldn't stay, not after her call! He was wasting precious time – but no. He had to prepare for the bust tomorrow, he could not leave before that. He didn't realize how bad his hands were shaking until a magazine dropped out of his hand. He sighed and covered his eyes with his hands. Shit. Shit shit shit! He had to do something, now!

But before he had the chance to think about this any more, the door to the equipment locker was opened. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Vin didn't get up from his chair. Chris didn't leave his place leaning in the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Finally, Chris sighed.
"Mind clueing me in?" Vin just huffed and shook his head.
-Nothing, cowboy-
Chris snorted.
-Liar-
Vin immediately tensed and his whole body language screamed defense. Everyone else would have gotten the message to back off. And of corse, Chris saw it too. But he was not everyone else. And he sure as hell wouldn't back off. They glared at each other for minutes without saying a word, but silent messages where flying back and forth between them. Finally Chris shook his had in exasperation.
"Don't give me that "it's nothing" line, because I ain't buyin it. Do you have any idea what time it is? I sent the others home long ago. We have a job to do tomorrow, remember? And you are sitting in here cleaning weapons for four hours straight and try to tell me nothing is wrong"
"I told you, it's nothing," Vin answered tensly, still not leaving the cramped little room. Chris nodded darkly. "Fine. You want it that way? There." He stepped into the room and closed the door. Now, with both men in the small room, "cramped" didn't even come close to covering it. Vin flinched again – and for a second, Chris felt guilty for playing dirty. He knew that Vin didn't like cramped places and always prefered open space – but Chris had the nagging feeling that this was important and worth the risk. Vin glared at him angrily.
-You bastard-
Chris' eyes narrowed.
-Wasn't my idea to come here. Now spill it.-
"There's nothing to say. I'll go home in a minute."

Chris frowned – he just KNEW that something was wrong, though he had no idea what it could be. He felt it – like he usually felt it when something was wrong with Vin. And this time… it was serious. He had no idea why he knew. He just did. And it scared him. But what could it be? While they had been working on the two cases they had not really had time for anything else. And he'd seen Vin only a few hours ago, asking him to check on the equipment. Vin had seemed okay then. So what… His frown deepened. On the small desk, between the weapons and some dirty rags was Vin's cell phone. If it had been any other member of his team, Chris wouldn't have noticed – but Vin practically loathed his cell phone and only used it when it was absolutely necessary. So why was it lying there, easy to reach and check on?

"Somebody call you?" he asked carefully, knowing very well that he was walking on thin ice.

Vin cursed himself mentally – the stupid cell phone! No, he couldn't tell Chris, couldn't make things worse than they already were. But what could he do? They knew each other too well. There was no way of lying to Chris about this. Ha! And how should he explain this? How should he explain that everyone on the time would most likely lose their job - or worse - if he didn't... No. He couldn't tell him, it was too late for that. And there was no other way to get out of this. No. There WAS a way. He shivered. He hated himself for doing this, hated the whole situation and the one man who had caused it and made him do this. But there was no other way. I'm sorry, Cowboy.
Vin straightened and blinked, blocking every possibilty for Chris to read in his friends eyes like he usually did. On purpose. And Chris saw that, too. The cold Chris had felt earlier was slowly clawing into his heart. Something terrible was going on here. He couldn't name it, nor point it out – but he felt it. It was like someone or something was tearing his soul apart. He made one last attempt to reach Vin, looked into his friends eyes like he had done so many times in the past.

- ... Cowboy...? -

Vin just stared back at him. The usually expressive eyes were empty. Grey. Not blue. And they seemed to stare right through him.
"I should better be goin," Vin stated, his voice sounding eerily calm.

One day later, their bust ended in a desaster – And for Vin Tanner it ended with the screaming sound of metal scraping over pavement and his world being swallowed by darkness.

-----------------------------------------------

Martin sat upright in his seat when something – somebody – nudged his shoulder. He blinked heavily, trying to get rid of the last remnants of that dream. Danny watched him suspiciously.

"We're almost there." Almost there. Right. The plane. To Denver. Martin took a deep breath and tried to hide how much all this effected him. At the same time he felt stupid. Why should he hide it? Jack knew that a lot of things were missing in his file and Danny – well, he was sure Danny knew ways to somehow find out more about him. So they were both aware that not everything was as it seemed. And Maddie? Well, he had called her from the airport in New York, telling her what was going on and that he wouldn't be home for at least two days. Well, her reaction had been … very Maddie.
"You're flying down there. Right now. With Danny and that other guy. Your boss."

"Jack. Yes."

"This is… this is great!" The rest of her sentense had been lost in hysterical laughter. He'd hung up after listening to her laughing for almost a minute. And he was glad that Danny and Jack were talking about the case now and didn't pay attention to him because god, even stepping out of the plane and seeing the Airport was like coming home. Everything was familiar, so much so it was almost too much. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on following the other two.

-------------------------------------------

"Okay, there's not much," Nathan stated, closing a file folder. "This says that they observed Darlene McEvoy for a while to find out what her connection to our friend Derringer was. They even brought her in for questioning a few days before he was arrested, but couldn't get enough on her to keep her here. Obviously she'd been in a relationship with him some time ago, but it was long over."

"Right," Buck agreed, "she stated that he visited her a few times to go on a trip down memory lane, but she refused. Other than that, he didn't tell her anything, she had no idea why they were even on him."

"That's really not much," JD thought aloud, gulping down his coke. "And it doesn't get much better here. Chris asked me to check why Gabe was sent out of town and obviously an FBI team of Missing Persons in New York was called because some guy called Derning – Derringer, whatever – was missing, so Gabe was sent there to tell them to mind their own business and forget about the case."

Nathan groaned. "JD, could you please slow down a little. And at least BREATH between sentenses. Last thing we need is for you to turn all blue and fall out of your chair."

JD just blinked. "Well, gramatically speaking, that was only one sentense." Before he could react, Buck snatched his coke can away.

"Sorry, out of caffeine for today." JD shrugged, rummaged through one of his desk drawers and finally found an energy drink.
"Anyways, what I wanted to say before I was interrupted is that officially, nobody knows anything aside from that one FBI team so there is no need to worry – "
"Okay, okay," Buck interrupted him again and rose from his chair. " So Derringer's in New York. We'll have a little chat with Darlene McEvoy, you tell Chris that Derringer was seen in New York and then you stay on… whatever it is you are doing." With that, Nathan and Buck left the office.
"Okay," JD mumbled to himself, turning back to his computer. "So let's see what we have here. Missing Persons. Mhm." He clicked his way through a bunch of information. And never felt the energy drink slip out of his hands.
"Holy shit!"

--------------------------------------

In the car, Maritn tried to force himself not to look out of the window. How often had he been here before, driving down the exact same streets? He had no idea. And to make things worse, they were now on their way to talk to the ATF team that was working on the Derringer case. Why? Because one of Darlene McEvoy's neighbours had seen how two men had knocked on her door, shown her their badges and obviously asked her to accompany them.
"So our ATF friends already brought her in for questioning," Danny smirked. "What a surprise. So what are we going to tell them? That Eve McEvoy is our new case and that they are interfering? Because this could be serious fun." Jack had to smile too. "Well, we'll ask them – friendly! – to be allowed to question her too, since she is important for our case." Martin snorted. Yeah right. He was not stupid. He knew who was most likely to take over the case from Simms. Although he still held on to the hope that he was wrong. His heart was thundering in his ears and made it difficult to follow the rest of the conversation in the car.
Just a few more turns, six more red lights… and….yes, there they were. His eyes automatically thought out a row of windows on one of the top floors of the building. Right there… "Martin? You coming or what?" And again he found himself being stared at by his colleagues. Great. Make an idiot of yourself. Okay, he thought. He was now officially doomed.

----------

"Really you should have a look at this Chris, I didn't believe my eyes at first but it is there and I just... "
"JD, slow down. What the hell is going on! I'm kind of busy right now."
"But you really HAVE to look at this! I was checkin on that FBI team from New York and suddenly there was this one file and..."

---------------------

When they approached the entrance of the building, he had to stop himself from marching right through the doors like he had done so long ago. Martin caught himself in the last possible moment and slowly followed Jack into the building. Once inside, his eyes scanned the entrance area – and for the first time he realised that it was not all that different from the Federal building in New York. Once past security, they walked up to the huge reception counter, Martin again tried not to just walk forward and lean over the counter like he had done back then, but instead stayed behind Jack and Danny and tried to be invisible. A woman wearing a headset held up her hand to stop Jack from talking until she finished her call, then she turned to them. She eyed Jack and Danny, then looked at Martin, frowned for a second – and then her eyes widened. And only one second later, her loud, incredulous voice echoed through the security area and stopped everyone around in their tracks.

"Oh my GOD, what have you done to your HAIR?"

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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - to be continued

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Comment: MUAHAHAHAHA! Achem. I am sorry. But I just HAD to end this chapter with this scene. - snort- I had planned to start this chapter with the dream and end it with this exact scene at the reception counter. If you read ATF stories, you might know that it is somehow part of the fanon that most of the ATF secretaries have a crush on Vin. So one of them would know immediately what is going on.I just thought it would be funny to include this here :)

Okay, a few words about the chapter: I am SORRY it turned into a WAT casefile headdesk It just happened. Once my brain starts working, it's hard to stop writing. As I mentioned before, I do not really plan out what is going to happen, I come up with this while I write it. So there might be mistakes on my part, but that's just the way I write. So don't ask me about the case. I know how the main story will continue - but the casefile that somehow exploded? I have no idea. We'll see.

And I really REALLY hope I got the formatting right this time. I previewed and changed it like a dozen times and now I am close to having a fit. I wrote at least 5 of the 16 pages you see here last night, so I'll go have a nap now.

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