The ties that bind – Chapter Six

A word from the author:

Okay everyone, hold on to your hats. (And oh my god, I managed to sneak in a WAT quote! If you know from which episode it is, you get a cookie :) ) While during chapter four and five, the focus was more on Martin and the two teams, here I am picking up the actual case file. Like crazy. Chapter six is a lot longer than the previous two and will bombard you with (more or less) usefull information and a lot of details. You have been warned :)

Oh! I almost forgot: ERROR: In chapter two, Gabe Kincaid states that Milo Derringer disappeared from prison "Two days ago" - of corse it should have been two weeks. My mind was jumping back and forth between facts and I confused them. So, that is overall Oops No 4. My mind was obviously not really functioning while I wrote that chapter. All the mishaps, I am sorry. Once this story is complete, I will rewrite some parts, get rid of all the errors and post the whole thing in one final chapter. I promise.

The usual disclaimers and spoiler warnings apply. Lyrics from "If I ever lose my faith" by Sting.

And one last warning: It is VERY likely that there are a lot of typos in this. I mean, more than usual. That's because I had to sell my computer and am now writing on a laptop instead. And it is DRIVING ME CRAZY. This keyboard is torture.

Addendum: I wrote a little something for the TTTB - readers in my lj - so if you are interested in pointless trivia about this story, go here: http://users. :)

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"If I ever lose my faith in you
There'd be nothing left for me to do."

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Samantha Spade sighed.

She had a headache, her eyes were burning - she was tired. But after the good news that Victor Fitzgerald was "on the warpath" - and really, she could not come up with a better term for that - Vivian and Sam had decided to go through every tiny detail of the case again, trying to find the little piece of information they missed. Eve McEvoy was still nowhere to be found, her father had called several times to make sure the team was working on the case, stating that he had not been able to contact his ex-wife about it. Which was weird as it was. Sam frowned. She knew that a divorce was never easy and sometimes could turn a life into a battlefield, but a missing child was more than serious. Right, Eve McEvoy was eighteen and no longer a minor - and maybe she did not want to be found for some time. And with a mother out of reach in Denver and an overly protective and worried libarian in New York, who knew? And Van Doren was right about one thing: officially, Eve McEvoy had not been called in missing yet, so they were not working on an official case. That was another tricky point. If she left everything else aside, the team - including her - was just being stubborn and held on to a case that was no longer theirs. But Jack was right. Too many things did not add up - something was defenitely wrong with this...well.. case.

So it could very well be that Eve McEvoy was just a stubborn young woman who used the opportunity of a trip to NY to get away from her life for awhile. The only unusual thing about it was that she left most of her luggage at the airport. David Foley on the other hand was close to a mental breakdown over all this and had already promised them to try everything he could to reach Eve's mother. And if that was not possible, he would report her missing. And since there were no new cases at the moment...

And there was another point. Martin. She frowned. He had been acting strange ever since they had started working on the case. Danny seemed to be in on it to a certain extend - if his grins and snide remarks were anything to go by. And if Vivian knew something about that - or at least suspected something - she did not share. Sam twirled a pencil around in her hand. It just wasn't fair. Whatever it was that was going on there, she felt left out.

Focus, she chided herself. Concentrate on your work. With a sigh, she took another look at the timeline, checking her watch. Techs should get back to her any minute now. Calling the bookstore had been kind of a last straw, since the ATF in Denver was kind of stonewalling when it came to information about their agents or other certain facts. She snorted. Talk about your side of the fence. It was ridiculous.

Everything about this case was confusing. Sam stared at the time table, gnawing on the pencil.

Two weeks ago: Derringer disappears from prison, in spite of the fact that he would have been taken into witness protection a few days later anyway. Strange.

Three days later: Derringer obviously arrives in New York, renting a room, using the name Derning. Not very original. Maybe Martin was right and the guy was an idiot. But why would Martin know that? She tried to ban that thought from her mind for now.

Another three days later: Eve McEcoy gets on a plane to New York, arrives, but leaves her luggage at the airport and disappears. All she takes with her is her bag containing her personal stuff, including a laptop. Her calendar - which she left behind - is full of math calculations or something the like. And then there was the fact that a few years earlier she had hacked into the computer networks of several banks in Denver. Nice.

For almost a week nothing happens.

Then, two days - Sam checked her watch. Make that three days, she corrected herself. Anyways. Three days ago: ATF agent Bailey Carsson is shot in front of the apartment building he lives in. No further information on that end what so ever. She could only hope Jack and the others would find a way to make those stubborn ATF guys talk.

Another day later: Arnold Stark reports one of his tenants - "Michael Derning" missing, simply because he did not show up to pay his rent. That was another weird fact.

So they had decided to go to the bottom of this, starting out with Stark.

The man was in his late fifties, not very tall, but surrounded by an air of constant worry. Being asked to walk into an FBI building to answer questions obviously was not his idea of a good start for a day.

"I already told you," he sighed, massaging his temples, "this guy - Derning, or whatever his name is - rented the room, end of story. Didn't see him that often, he ordered a lot of food in, never really left the room."

Vivian observed him carefully, folding her hands on the desk between them.

"Please, calm down. You are not a suspect here, " she tried to assure him. "But we are looking for a missing young woman, and Mr. Derning could be involved in a way, or know something about her whereabouts."

She had already shown him pictures of Derringer and Stark had positively identified him.

Something about Stark changed, his serious and unnerved features turned softer.

"A missing girl, huh?" he asked silently, obviously worried - again.

"Yes," she nodded. "So I want to know one thing: was there something strange about Mr. Derning?"

To her suprise, Stark snorted. "You could say that. He was... I don't know." He shrugged. "Weird. Seemed out of place. It's not the best neighborhood, you know. I mean, the building is clean, the people are nice and quiet, everything's alright at that end, mind you. But... this guy was just different. And there was something else..." He pondered that for a moment. "He seemed... giddy. You know? Like there was something he really needed to do or some place he needed to be. He did not seem to be like the man who would stay in one place for long, see? That's why I collected the rent early. Didn't want him to disappear on me."

When Vivian finally dismissed Stark, she walked over to Sam, who was on the phone. She lowered the receiver to listen to Vivian. Vivian crossed her arms. "It's strange, you know?" she began, referring to Stark. "He just doesn't strike me as the type of guy to be drunk at ten in the morning when he is supposed to collect the rent. He worries about everything. Keeps an eye out."

Sam only answered with a soft hum - she was holding pictures in her left hand and was obviously eager to share what she had found. Vivian frowned and grabbed the pencil Sam was nervously twirling around in her other hand. If Sam had notived, she did not react.

"I got something" , she stated instead. She took a red marker from Vivian's desk and walked towards the time table on the board. "Remember David Foley?"

"Darlene McEvoy's depressed librarian - ex-husband, of corse." Despite herself, Sam had to grin when Vivian summed it up like that. Then she turned serious again.

"Well, he's obviously not only depressed, but also a liar." She walked over to the point on the timeline that marked the day Bailey had been shot. "Foley told us that he worked double shifts in the book store all week because a co-worker had called in sick."

Vivian lifted an eyebrow. "And that's not true?"

"It is," Sam answered. "His co-worker, Rose Vaughn, actually called in sick at the beginning of the week, so that part is true." She checked one of her notes. "I called her and she's still on sick leave."

"But?" Vivian fished, not sure where this was going.

Sam grinned. "While you were checking Eve McEvoy's luggage, I called the book store, asking for a security tape of the day Carsson got shot. It was a bit difficult, but techs just got back to me." She waved the photos around and then pinned one of them to the board. It showed the small book store, a few customers and a slender woman behind a counter. "And these..." she put two more pictures next to the first, ".. are from the next day." They were similar to the first.

Vivian took a step closer and frowned.

"Well, I am almost sure that this is not Mr. Foley."

Sam snorted. "Unless he's into cross dressing, it isn't. It's Rose Vaughn."

Vivian sighed. "So she was not sick."

"At least she was not at home. So basically, our depressed librarian ex-husband has turned into a potential suspect."

Vivian nodded darkly. "Call him in. I'll try to get a hold of Rose Vaughn. Whatever is going on, she's in on it."

After a moment of silence, she turned towards Sam again. "You know, for some reason I think that Eve McEvoy is the key to all this. Ryan from techs is working on the information in her calendar. Eve is a hacker, maybe she left hints there."

Sam nodded, taking notes. Then she tilted her head to the side. "What about Bailey Carsson? What is the connection there? And why the hell do we not get any information from the ATF in Denver? It would make things a lot easier. I mean," she frowned, "maybe it's just me, but I think all this started four years ago, when Derringer was arrested."

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Silence. Absolute, stunned silence. Martin just stood there, holding his breath, expecting the worst. He was clearly and the end of his rope, exhausted enough to simply wait what would happen. It did not matter anymore.

And then, something changed. It started with a small frown on Chris' face. His eyes narrowed. He took a step towards Martin. Looked at him. Really looked at him for the first time.

"Is this... what it was all about?"

It was a simple, clear question. And yet, it was so much more. Martin dared to look up into the eyes of the man he had once called his best friend.

- Because if it is... -

Against better judgement, Martin grinned sadly. - You have no idea. -

Danny frowned, looking back and forth between Martin and Chris. "What the hell..."

Next to him, Buck leaned forward a bit. "Easy. This is a good sign, believe me." And he was sure it was. After all the tension, there finally seemed to be a connection between the two. Of corse this brought on a lot of new questions - like the one Chris had asked only minutes ago. Who was this man? Was he Vin Tanner? Was he an FBI agent? Had he maybe been an FBI agent all along? Even back then? Everything seemed possible now.

And what was this about the AD of the FBI? How did this guy fit into all this? And why would Ezra know about that? Scratch that, Buck chided himself. Of corse he knows things like these. And JD? JD had surprised him the most in this little scene. Ever since Vi - Martin Fitzgerald had appeared, JD was silent, observing the situation instead of barging right in like he usually did. Buck had noticed JD waiting outside the office a few minutes ago and if Buck was right, JD had used the opportunity to talk to Fitzgerald. Or whatever his name was. So this here right now was the first time in hours that JD had actually spoken up or interfered. It was not surprising that he knew about the connection to Victor Fitzgerald - it was very likely that he already knew Martin Fitzgerald's file by heart. But why hadn't he said anything earlier?

Only a few steps away Martin desperately tried to think of something to say. So Ezra knew about his father. No. He knew who Victor Fitzgerald was. How, Martin did not want to know. JD on the other hand had already told him that he "knew why".

Okay, so tell them. Tell them why the AD of the FBI is on his way to Denver.

"We..." he slowly stated, "...are officially off this case. We are not even supposed to be here."

Chris frowned for a moment - that was not what he had expected. They had just found out that the man they had once known as Vin Tanner was actually the son of the Asisstant Director of the FBI. As ridiculous and outragous as that was, it explained a lot. It did not really justify anything, but it helped, because now they were able to catch a first glimpse of the inevitable "why". And now what? They were back to formalities?

"So?" Chris asked sharply, crossing his arms. - Not really what I want to hear. -

"Chris?" Nathan slowly lowered his cell phone. All eyes turned towards him - no one had even heard the phone ringing.

"That was the hospital - looks like Carsson is going to make it."

He hesitated for a moment to let the information sink in. It made the members of team 7 breathe a lot easier - not only because Carsson was one of their own. Now the attempt on Carrsons life would be just that. An attempt. Not a murder.

"And," Nathan added with a relieved smile, "he is awake."

Chris took a deep breath, feeling a lot lighter now. Now they could finally get to work. He exchanged a short glance with Jack, who was already on the phone.

"Okay guys," Chris started, "we've got work to do. Darlene McEvoy will be coming in to answer some more questions, that's MPU territory. The DPD cop who was first on scene after Carsson was shot at," he checked a file in his hands, "is a Thomas Lindt. He should be in shortly, too. JD? I want you to go through every tiny detail of the Derringer case again. Don't look at me like that. It's just a hunch, but I think there is something there we just overlooked. Josiah? I know it's a lot to ask, but I want you to check back with Travis - we need to find out where Simms is hiding. I've got a few questions to ask him. And we better let him know that Carsson's not on his deathbed anymore. But wait before you tell the rest of team 9. I want to talk to Carsson first."

With that, he turned to get his jacket. In that moment, Jack stepped forward, lowering his phone. "The alibi of Darlene McEvoy's ex - husband for the night Carsson was attacked doesn't hold. I need to know if he left New York at that time, booked any flights."

JD perked up. "No problem, I'll check it out!"

Ezra sat down at his desk and leaned back. "As glad as I am that we are finally making progress, may I ask how we are going to deal with the fact that the Assisstant Director of the FBI is on his way here?"

Chris saw Martin flinch out of the corner of his eye, then checked his watch. "Well, I'd say we still have a few hours before he's here. And if he's early," he grinned evilly at Ezra, "you seem to be the perfect man for the job. Since you know him and all."

Ezra visibly paled. "You can not be serious."

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Only a short time later, Danny found himself still in the open ATF office, the only other agents present being that computer kid - JD?- and Buck Wilmington. Somehow Jack had managed to make Danny stay behind to question Darlene McEvoy again, and since Buck already knew her, he'd ben the second unlucky agent asigned to that task. Unlike Danny, who had just growled to himself, Wilmington had made it very clear that he didn't like it. Not that it had helped them any.

And now? They were still here, waiting for Darlene McEvoy to arrive.

Danny took the time to take a better look at his surroundings. The office itself was a lot less cold and unpersonal than theirs in New York. Every desk was "decorated" with personal belongings of the agents and he found to his amusement, that it was not very difficult to find out which desk belonged to whom. It was obvious that for these agents, their work was a huge part of their lives - and they had obviously decided to take it in stride and make the best of it. He saw countless pictures on the walls, post-it notes, holiday cards and printouts of emails. One of the desks was surrounded by plants, another was littered with document folders, magazines, pens and various other things he could not really make out from the distance. The desk next to that seemed more organized, the documents neatly stashed away or folded, piled up next to each other. The coffee cup next to that seemed expensive. Mhm.

He noticed another desk in the far corner of the room, next to a door. That desk looked like it had not been used for a long time. For some reason Danny felt a lumb in his throat upon seeing it and turned away. He was distracted soon enough when JD emerged from what had first seemed to be a storage room, but was obviously a kitchen, since the man was carrying a tray with food. No, Danny corrected himself. Two trays. Before he knew what was going on, he was holding one of the trays himself and stared at the vast amount of food piled up on it. He could make out bagles, a donut and several other sweets in weird colors. And he was sure that even if this building HAD a cafeteria, this wasn't on the menu. He snorted. At least he would not starve. "Thanks," he offered, not able to hide a grin. He pulled an office chair up to the kids desk and was greeted with a coffee cup that had somehow emerged out of nowhere. He shook his head, still smiling. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.

"Hey, what about me?" Wilmington protested from his desk.

JD just snorted. "You know where everything is. Go get it yourself."

Danny frowned, trying to find out what was going on with that kid. While Wilmington was surrounded by an air of tension, worry and a general unease since they had showed up in Denver (and Danny still wasn't sure what that was about), the kid was a mystery to him. His chaotic desk made it obvious that he was not a shy person in general, more the opposite. And the way he came to life as soon as he was asigned to a task indicated that the way he was acting right now - reserved, quiet, keeping in the background - was out of the ordinary. Was this in some way connected to Martin? Hah, Danny thought . Who are you trying to kid? All of this is connected to Martin. Or whatever his real name was.

During the next few minutes, Danny watched in awe how the kid ate his way through a huge amount of sweets in the most outragous colors while at the same time working on his computer like it was nothing.

"Now I get it," Danny mumbled to himself, the whole scenario reminding him of somebody else he knew.

"Huh?" JD looked up, a half-eaten donut still in his hand.

Danny smiled. "Nothing. It's just that... I've always wondered. Now I know."

JD frowned, letting the miserable donut sink down onto his desk where it joined more leftover food. "Could you stop talking in riddles?"

Out of nowhere, Buck Wilmington reappeared, getting comfortable in an office chair next to JD's. "You talking about.." he hesitated for a moment, thinking about the right approach. "... Fitzgerald?"

Danny blinked, then nodded. "Martin. Yeah."

An uneasy silence settled over the usually busy office and Danny saw the kid's eyes glance at the vacant desk in the far back of the office. Danny tilted his head in the general direction of the unused office desk. "That his?"

JD swallowed hard. "Used to be. A long time ago." His voice was even, almost cold. Danny flinched inwardly. Ouch.

After another moment of hesitation, Wilmington spoke up. "What did you mean when you said that you "always wondered"? What was that about?"

Danny smirked. "Food. That's the only thing about him that always made me wonder." He waited another moment for good measure and looked at the two ATF agents. Wilmington just sat there, keeping an eye on the kid. It seemed like he was waiting for JD's reaction. When Danny saw at least a bit of hidden curiosity in the computer expert's eyes, he smiled again. Maybe it was a start. At least it was a way to find out more about the mystery that Martin had turned into during this trip. So it was worth a try.

"Cheeseburgers at ten in the morning. Cereals. At any time of the day. Sweets. And don't get me started on the coffee."

For moments, nothing happened, then, slowly, a shy smile appeared on JD's face and he turned towards Buck. "Sounds familiar," he whispered, like he had just encountered a great secret.

Finally, Buck smiled too. "Yeah, has a familiar ring to it." Then he turned towards Danny. "Stress eater?"

Danny snorted. This was easier then he had expected. "You bet. There was this one time when Sam, one member of our team was taken hostage. We were monitoring the whole thing, trying to figure something out - and he started eating a sandwich. Even offered me one."

This time, JD even snickered. "I can almost see it." For a moment his eyes were vacant and he seemed to be far away.

Then: "Not the tie though. Where did he get that thing? It's horrible."

Danny lifted his hands in mock surrender. "You don't have to tell ME. I'm the one who has to look at those every day." Another silence settled in. Then, out of the blue, another thought occured to Danny. "He's a damned boy scout."

Buck grinned. "Helpin' the helpless? Like nice old ladies, kids? That'd be Vin. Jesus, he's a big kid himself." He blinked, like he had given away too much and leaned back. "Was," he added a second later, taking a deep breath. Again there was silence and Danny was not sure if this had been such a good idea after all. Maybe he should just leave it be.

Then, finally, JD spoke up, but his voice was silent and it was not sure who he was talking to.

"It just that... it's so hard to believe. He's... a totally different person. It's not just the clothes...and the hair..."

At this point Danny made a mental note to ask about "The hair" later. There was defenitely something going on there. But right now he wanted to hear this.

"It's more like... there's a wall, you know?" JD sighed, looking at Buck like seeking for help, then he sighed. "When I talked to him today... he just wasn't... really there." Another helpless sigh. "He never really talked much about himself. He never talked much period. But he never ... when you talked to him, that was HIM, you know? The real deal."

It was clear that he could not really find the words he was looking for. Still, Danny understood. That wall... he'd seen his fare share of that himself. During last two years since he'd met Martin, he had rarely seen the man really relax, even on a day off. He always seemed driven, but by what and why was not always clear. Of corse there was his father with all his expectations, but now that he thought about it, Danny realised that Martin had obviously tried to show them just a certain side of himself and carefully hid the rest.

The real deal? Well, Danny added bitterly in his mind, at least that was what he had thought. His own serious face was mirrored by Buck and JD and Danny realised that they were thinking the same thing.

Danny took a deep breath. "You are still not sure if it's really him." It was not a question.

"It is," JD answered without missing a beat, looking surprised at his own reaction a second later. Then he nodded to himself, his voice calm again. "It is. It's just not... he's changed. A lot."

Danny leaned back a bit and thought about the Martin Fitzgerald he had come to know. The little things here and there that he had always wondered about and that just hadn't made sense. But now? It was still confusing as hell, but to his own surprise he found that he liked the idea, the character Vin Tanner - and that he would love to meet him one day.

He smiled. "Not as much as you'd think."

JD was about to object, but in that moment Josiah walked into the room. "McEvoy and Lindt are here. And the lady is all yours." He gestured towards Danny and Buck.

Buck made a face. "Anybody know where Ezra slithered off to?"

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Breathe.

Take even, slow breaths.

No time for a panic now.

Vin Tanner took a long, sad look around his appartment, the place he had called home for the last three years. He smiled weakly. How long had it taken him to finally find the courage to really settle in? He had kept his stuff in his bag for weeks after moving in. Always waiting for the one thing, the one turn of events that would eventually force him to grab his stuff and leave. Like it had been so many times before.

But this time it was different. This time he was not following a lead on some bail jumper. This time he had a real reason to leave - as fast as possible.

The bust today had gone terribly, horribly wrong - but maybe that was just what he needed. It sounded cruel, but after a desaster like that it was more understandable if he just handed in his resignation and left.

Of corse he had not done that. He had not officially resigned. No, if he really wanted to do this, leaving something official behind would not be a good idea. And he knew Travis well. The man would have called Chris and the boys in no time, demanding an explanation why a team member was dropping out so suddenly.

And then? His friends would be here in no time, barging in like the god damned boy scouts they all were, searching for him everywhere. They would do that eventually.

He felt a twinge of hurt in his heart - it was not fair. It was so unfair he did not even know how to describe it. They would hate him. That was for sure. Hell, he hated himself already.

JD would not understand. He would ask questions over and over, but he would not really understand. He was smart, so smart - but there were still some things he did not know how to deal with - and Vin hoped that he would never have to learn.

Josiah would probably just keep silent - his mind trying desperately to come up with answers.

Nathan would try to calm them down, stating the obvious - which was often necessary with this team - using logic to get through this mess.

Vin cringed. He could already see Buck fuming, trying to calm JD down while shouting at everyone to god damn do something now.

And Chris... no, Vin cringed again. Not going there. Defenitely not going there. Guilt was a vicious little bastard and he would carry around enough of that soon. So he shyed away from that thought the best he could.

There was one who was most likely to understand, though.

Ezra.

For a long time, both Vin and Ezra had been kind of the outsiders of the team. Not really settling in, ready to leave and disappear if need be. Vin had never told Ezra about his past, but they had somehow, without ever voicing it, found that they were a lot alike. They both had lived more than just one life in their past.

So it was very likely that Ezra would understand. That he would understand that something came up. And maybe he would explain that to the others. Vin sure hoped so.

So now you do what? Grab your stuff and disappear? Just like that?

Vin sighed. It was better this way.

Better?

Vin snorted sarcastically. Better then what?

Well, look at it this way. You have just bought yourself some time. Facing off Chris like that and demanding two weeks off had been dangorous - but in the end, it had worked out just as he had planned - no, expected it.

And now here he was, his mind racing a mile a minute. He needed a plan. He needed time. Chris was most likely fuming and would not contact him for two, maybe three days. Maybe even longer. So that was the small window of time Vin was dealing with.

Again he stared at the cell phone in his hand. The cell phone no one ever called except for the boys or his kids here. There was only one person who knew this number too.

And this person was calling him again in this very moment.

"Hey."

Her voice was hushed, strained. Like it had sounded just a day before.

"Hey," Martin answered weakly, not really sure what to say. She obviously felt the same, but recovered quickly.

"Where are you now?"

"At the apartment."

There was a long, strained silence during which Martin decided wether he wanted her to know or not. But then again, she was his only ancor right now, the only person he could talk to.

"I'm leaving. I have no idea how or... but I... I can't stay here."

He heard her sigh. "I thought so. Listen, Martin, you have no idea how sorry I am. I know this is not my fault, but..:"

"You are damn right it isn't!" he interrupted her sharply, regretting it immediately. He was nervous, angry and sad. His life had taken another crazy turn and if there was anyone to blame it sure as hell wasn't her.

"Like I said," she went on calmly, totally ignoring his outburst, "I know that. But I could have called you sooner. I overheard dad on the phone a few days ago - and he was already talking about Denver back then. He knew. And I should have thought faster."

Martin slowly shook his head. He could almost see her, standing in her room, leaning on wall next to the door. In that huge house. That house. It had always made them feel small.

"Just... don't do anything stupid okay?" She sighed again. "You don't have much time, I know that. But still. You have talked to them, haven't you? They know, right?"

Oh god. How was he supposed to answer that question? Sorry sis, but I was too scared to tell them? He closed his eyes tightly, begging for some kind of idea to help him out. This was so not like him, he knew that.

"Martin?"

"No," he blurted out before he could stop himself. "I mean... Jesus. I couldn't just..."

For a moment there was silence.

"So they don't know."

Martin cringed. She was smart, even in a situation like this. Now he was forced to explain himself.

"I...no. It's better to leave while I still have time."

"Martin!" now her voice was sharp. "Is this how you want to deal with this? You just go and leave, without a word, an explanation? I never met your friends, but shouldn't you do.. I don't know. Something?"

"No." He sighed. "They would... they would find out in no time. And then all hell would break loose. You know Dad."

There was another moment of silence. Finally, his sister was the first to break it.

"So, where are you going to go?"

He snorted. Good question. He had not thought that far. It was weird. Only three years ago, he would just have grabbed his stuff without thinking, leaving without regrets. But now? Somehow six crazy guys and a job he liked - loved! - had changed everything.

"I have no idea. I think I'll just... have to wait and see."

He could almost hear her smile. "Aren't they going to look for you?"

He swallowed hard. Of corse. Hell, they'd probably drive everyone crazy. It still amazed him - he had never had friends like that.

"Yeah. Probably." And that was the understatement of the century.

Somehow after that the conversation died down and both seemed to feel that all was said for the time being. She knew him well and would never ask him to come home. To her, he had never run away from home, but instead decided to live his own life. Sadly, he still felt guilty and would probably feel that way for a long time.

"I'll keep in touch."

"I know."

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Martin blinked.

A short look out of the window told him that they would be at the hospital in a few minutes. Had he fallen asleep? Not good.

After another phonecall from Sam, Jack had agreed that the attack on Bailey Carsson somehow tied into the whole mess and that it would be best to cover all bases. So Danny stayed at the ATF building to interview Darlene McEvoy while Jack joined Chris Larabee on his way to the hospital. Martin had been at a loss for a moment, but had finally decided that he didn't really care, as long as he got out of that office for a while. He could have dealt with the place itself, but having those men he had once called friends (and still did) staring at him all the time was too much.

When they finally left the car and walked towards the entrance area of the hospital, he realized that not only Jack and Chris were there, but that at some time Nathan had joined them too. Martin cursed himself mentally. How was it possible that he hadn't noticed?! You really need sleep.

Not much later a doctor stopped them. Chris explained to her who they were and that they needed to talk to Bailey Carsson. She was obviously not impressed. "This is an ICU, not an interrogation room. I already told that other agent that agent Carsson is barely awake and on heavy pain medication, so he won't be of much help anyway. I only allowed the visit because agent Carrson doesn't have a family. But he's in no condition for..."

"Now wait a second," Jack interrupted her. "What other agent? Who is in there?!"

At the same time, Chris and Nathan had already made their way past her and stared through the window into the room Bailey Carsson was resting in.

Chris cursed through his teeth and opened his cell phone, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Josiah? Forget about Simms. He's here."

"What do you guys think you are doing?" the doctor hissed, ignoring the fact that she was in a hospital. "I don't care who you are, go ahead and wave your badges around all you want. I want you to leave right now, or I'll call building security."

Before Chris could answer, Jack spoke up.

"Listen doctor..." he quickly checked her nametag, "... Macer. Of corse we are here to see Bailey Carsson, and we know about his condition. But right now, we really need to talk to agent Simms, who is in that room with agent Carsson. Would that be possible?"

She crossed her arms and thought about it for a moment. "Alright," she finally said, still sounding angry. "You can go in. But I am going to watch you. If I ask you to leave, you will leave. Understood?"

She took a few steps back, still staring at them. Slowly, Chris opened the door and stepped into the hospital room, followed by Jack. Nathan stayed with Macer, planning to talk to her about Carsson's condition. Maybe that would buy them some time.

Martin stayed behind too, leaning in the door.

Bailey Carsson.

"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."

He flinched, willing the voices of his past to disappear. Four years. And yet, looking at that man, it seemed like not a day had gone by. He looked older. Tired. But he still had those huge, brown eyes that made him look younger than he was. At the moment those eyes were only half open. And they were looking at - Joseph Simms.

Jesus.

All of a sudden it was hard to breathe.

Simms looked up but didn't really seem to notice anyone. Anyone but Chris. He stared at Chris without a word. But the hostility was clearly visible on his face. Under other circumstances, Martin would have grinned at the sight. Obviously some things never changed.

Chris and Simms did not exchange any kind of greeting, but instead turned towards Carsson, who was barely awake and blinked owlishly at them.

"Wow," he whispered and Simms immediately leaned in closer to listen. "H..how much of that stuff did they give me?"

To Martin's surprise, Simms grinned. So he was human after all. "Probably a lot," the leader of team 9 answered, waving a hand in front of Carsson's face. "Why, you seeing any pink elephants?" The younger agent didn't even blink but stared over Simm's shoulder. A weak grin appeared on Carsson's tired face. "No," he answered, his voice slightly slurred and uneven. "Even better. M' seeing Tanner - and somebody cut is god damned hair."

Simms' eyes narrowed and he turned around to see what his agent was staring at. And while Carsson had already slipped back into uncouciousness - or sleep, whichever came first - , Simms looked like he was ready to kill someone.

"Tanner?" he whispered. "Vin Tanner?"

A few hours earlier Martin would have panicked. But right now, he was too tired and irritated to even be angry.

-You want to kill me? Grab a ticket and get in line.-

And was that his imagination or had he really heard Chris snort behind Simms' back?

Upon seeing that the situation was getting tense (or at least it looked like that) in the room, Nathan turned towards doctor Macer, telling her that he was in fact a trained EMT and asked her about Carsson's condition.

To Nathan's surprise, she snorted. "His condition? Let me tell you one thing: when I first saw him, I was sure he was already dead. It was messy and he lost a lot of blood. The shot was fired from a short distance. But for some reason - and I will never understand how that is possible - he was lucky and no vital organs were damaged. You know how they say that from a certain distance, even an idiot won't miss? Agent Carsson's condition is proof that it is possible."

Nathan thought about that for a moment. "So you think that it could have been an accident?" She crossed her arms. "I am sure about that, agent Jackson. I've seen my share of gunshot wounds. And to miss like that from such a short distance? Takes one hell of a diversion."

Then she frowned and tried get past Nathan.

"Hey, what the hell is going on in there..."

------

"He called me. Said that something came up. And that's it."

Rose Vaughn, a fragile looking woman of 28, raked a hand through her brown, curly hair and glared at Vivian, huffing impatiently. The desk they were sitting at was already littered with used tissues - the woman seemed to carry around a countless amount of those. If she was not using them to clean her glasses (which she seemed to do all the time), she sneezed into them. It was clear as day that she was suffering from the mother of all colds. And Vivian felt almost sorry for her. Almost.

When Rose Vaughn had first stepped into the huge open office of the MPU, she had seemed shy, amost scared. But not for long. As soon as Vivian had mentioned David Foley, the woman had become angry and impatient.

"So he asked you to come to work because he had to do what?" Vivian tried again. rose Vaughn sneezed loudly - but that did not stop her rant.

"I don't know, okay? I was on sick leave for god's sake! I still am, in case you haven't noticed. He said that it was some kind of family emergency and that he had to leave right away. And then? He just disppears and doesn't come to work for two days in a row! I came so close to searching for him myself, if just to kill him for that!"

She sniffled and blinked. Then she blushed. "That...I didn't mean to say that. Okay? I would never kill anyone. Jesus, I didn't want to say..."

"Miss Vaughn!" Vivian cut hin, her patience finally snapping. "I understand. You are angry. And I can see why. But I need you to concentrate. Did David Foley say anything about this "family emergency"? Did he mention his daughter?"

Rose Vaughn was already searching her backpack for more tissues and Vivian rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Daugher?" The woman frowned. "Oh, you mean Eve? She's not his daugher. I mean, not his real daugher."

Vivian massaged her temples. "Yes, Miss Vaughn, we are aware of that. Did he mention her before he disappeared? Did he say anything?"

Vaughn sniffed, groaned miserably and checked her watch. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, she tilted her head to the right and frowned again.

"Well, he didn't. I mean, David didn't say anything about her. But her mother did."

Vivian frowned. "Darlene McEvoy contacted you? Why?"

Vaughn shrugged. "What the hell do I know? She seemed to be in a hurry, told me that she couldn't reach Eve on her cell and asked if she was okay, enjoying her stay in New York. No idea why she would call me. I mean I know David and have met Eve once, but I've never met the ex in my live. It was weird."

Indeed, Vivian thought. So David Foley had no idea Eve was in New York - but her mother obviously knew. That was obviously the reason why Eve had never been called in missing. But instead of contacing her ex-husband and telling him, Darlene McEvoy called her ex - husbands colleague? This didn't make any sense. Unless...

"Miss Vaughn, I need you to concentrate now. Why would Darlene McEvoy call you? Do you know Eve well? Could it be that Eve told her mother she was staying with you while she was in New York?"

Vaughn snorted, wihch was again followed by a sneeze. "What, you think I am Eve's alibi? Not very likely. Like I said, she doesn't really know me. It doesn't make any sen - wait!" She interrupted herself, groaning. "Of corse. Nicky!"

Vivian was close to groaning herself. Another name to add to the mystery.

"And who is Nicky?"

-----

"It's you again."

Darlene McEcoy crossed her ams and stared at Buck darkly. Then she looked at Danny. "Ah, a new face. At least it's not getting boring."

While Buck was still trying to come up with a witty retort (because usually he had no problem at all talking to women - but this one...) Danny stepped forward, leaning over the desk and into her personal space.

"I have no idea who you are trying to impress," he told her, his voice calm. "all I want to know is where your daughter is at the moment."

Her eyes narrowed. "I already told one of the other agents about that. My daugher is NOT missing! She's in New York, visiting a friend. They are staying at her parents house. What is this all about? Why are you asking me about Eve?"

Danny didn't move an inch. "Well, for starters, she left most of her luggage at the airport. Why would she do that? Visit a friend without clothes to change?"

"What?" For the first time, Darlene McEvoy seemed uncertain. "That's not true, I talked to her on the phone and she never told me.."

"You talked to her? She called you?" Now Danny understood why Wilmington had refused to interrogate her again at first. She was acting like a teenager.

"Of corse she has," Darlene McEvoy hissed angrily. "She has called me several times this week, telling me how she is and all that. She never mentioned losing her luggage..."

"And that's where you are wrong," Danny interrupted her. "She did not loose her luggage. She left it behind on purpose."

McEvoy snorted. "That is stupid. I don't believe that."

Buck finally had enough. "I don't care what you believe or not. The point is that WE believe that somehow, your daugher is tied into this whole mess about Milo Derringer. And now we need to know..."

"That's a LIE!" Before they knew what happened, Darlene McEvoy was out of her chair. "She does not have anything to do with that and if you even try to.."

It took several minutes to calm her down - and after that, even longer to calm Buck down.

"I am here on free will," Darlene McEvoy seethed. "I don't have to talk to you at all. I know where my daughter is, she is NOT missing! So maybe she lost her luggage and didn't want ot upset me. Or maybe she just didn't care. She's 18 now, it happens."

"Okay," Danny sighed. "Maybe you are right. But could you still tell us the name of Eve's friend? We are not going to arrest your daugher, she hasn't done anything wrong." Yet, Danny added in his mind. This was getting out of hand. She crossed her arms. "Why should I? There is no reason for you to go looking for her, she is fine."

"There is, Mrs. McEvoy," Danny interrupted her again. "Milo Derringer has still not been found and we just want to make sure that Eve is fine. I am sure you understand that."

The woman thought about that for a moment, then she sighed dramatically.

"Nicky. Nicky Vaughn. They are the same age. Eve told me that they met the last time she was in New York. That was about three months ago. They stayed in contact after that, them both being computer geeks and all. I never met her, but we talked on the phone a few times. Nice girl."

Danny sighed, feeling relieved. Now that they had a name, they could finally get out of this room.

--------

At the hospital, the situation was not much better. Dr. Macer had threatened them again, so now they were at the waiting area and had not really gotten anywhere. While Chris was on the phone, Jack stood beside Martin and Joseph Simms kept his distance. Jack eyed him warily, then he turned to Martin.

"You know," he said, barely hiding a smile, "someday you have to tell me what that stuff about your hair is all about."

He almost laughed out loud when he saw Martin blush and heard a mumbled "You don't want to know."

"Okay," Chris spoke up, "Josiah just questioned our DPD cop and it seems that he did not witness anything that migh be helpful. Two other tenants he questioned said they heard several voices in the entrance area but later saw only one man aside from Carsson. Because of the darkness and the weather that's not really much to go by. The thing is," he turned towards Simms now, "before Lindt and his colleagues were taken off the case, they found out that the apartment building itself does not have security cameras at all, but the convenience store across the street has two cameras. The angle of the first one is wrong and the tape was pretty useless, but the second camera would have been in exactely the right place to at least show enough to find out if there were people arriving at or leaving the apartment building." His eyes narrowed. "But guess what."

Jack nodded darkly. "No tape."

Chris still stared at Simms, who immediatley felt threatened.

"What the hell are you staring at me for?! I want to know about this as much as you do! Carsson's one of my agents for god's sake. He's just a kid!"

Chris' stare didn't waver. "Well, disappearing for days right after your agent was shot at would make anyone look suspicious, don't you think?"

Before the siuation got out of hand, Nathan stepped in. "Okay, everybody calm down. So the tape is gone. That's not good, but let's look at the other things we have found out. According to Lindt, the people he questioned stated that they saw only one person later, but they heard "several voices" in the entrance area. Now, doctor Macer told me that whoever the shooter was, missed any vital organs in spite of the short distance. According to her, he or she was distracted by something. So my guess is that it was more than one person."

"That would count out Derringer," Martin thought aloud, "he's an idiot, but he usually works alone."

"YOU stay out of this!" Simms bellowed out of nowhere, pointing at Martin. "What are you doing here anyway?! Who the hell are you? If you really are Tanner, so help me god I will..."

"Enough!" Chris interrupted him, but could barely hide a grin. They all had felt Simm's wrath after the Derringer bust (or better: the desaster). It was understandable, to a certain extend. Maybe the boys had gone overboard with their pranks at team nine's expence back then. Vin especially. But for some reason the smart sharpshooter had always managed to disappear into thin air whenever Simms had entered their office. And Simms was very unforgiving. So it was not surprising to see him act like this. But still.

"We don't have time for this. Not now." Chris and Simms stared at each other for what seemed like hours, than, slowly, Simms backed off. He kept on staring at Martin though.

Chris sighed.

"So maybe he's right and it wasn't Derringer. Or it was him and he was interrupted by someone,"

"That still doesn't make any sense!" Simms shouted, seething again. "Why in hell should he confront Carsson, he never even met him! There is no reason on earth for him to look for him, let alone attack him!"

For a moment there was silence.

"Maybe..." Martin whispered like he was talking to himself, "he was expecting somebody else. Maybe it was just a coincidence. He wanted to meet somebody else there, Carsson comes out of the building, recognizes him and panics."

Jack snorted. "That would be one hell of a coincidence."

-----

"So, what do we have?"

Danny sat down in one of the chairs in the open ATF office. For some reason he felt much more confortable now. It was done, Darlene McEvoy had left (not without a pout that would have made a thirteen year old proud). JD was still working on his computer and didn't seem to notice their return. He was the only one in the office at the moment and since he was obviously busy, the office was eerily quiet.

"A headache," Buck shot back, not really in a good mood.

Danny nodded darkly. Not only that Darlene McEvoy had killed their last nerves, her information had also turned out to be pretty useless, since Vivian and Sam already knew about Nicky Vaughn and were on their way to question her right now.

"JD?" Buck asked carefully and Danny only now noticed that the youngest agent of the ATF team looked dangorously pale. He was gnawing on his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.

"I..." JD stuttered, "... this is..."

"Come on, what's wrong?" Buck asked, his impatience and bad mood replaced by worry. JD whirled his office chair around to face Buck and Danny, taking a shaky breath.

"Do... do you remember how Ezra warned us how it wasn't a good idea to take over this case?"

"Yes," Buck answered slowly, not really undstanding where this was headed.

"Well," JD continued nervously, "I took a closer look at the Derringer file, made a few phone calls, cross checked everything, and... " He cleared his throat. "The file itself isn't really the problem."

All he got in response were two matching frowns from Buck and Danny Taylor. He took another uneasy breath.

"Team 9 had their own tech guys in place during the Derringer bust, but I monitored the bank accounts too, remember? Chris wanted me to keep an eye on the money, just in case. Right?" This question was clearly adressed to Buck, who nodded without a word. He had a really bad feeling about this.

"Well," JD swallowed hard, " at first I couldn't really find anything so I kind of hacked into the servers of the bank we used back then and for some time I did not find anything. It was easy to overlook, you know? Like somebody had really gone out of their way to hide it. But when I dug in deeper I found out that... it seems that... I mean it looks like...it's gone."

"WHAT?!" Buck exploded while Danny only looked confused. "How on earth is that possible?!"

"I don't know!" JD shouted back, getting defensive. "The money was transferred to close the deal, it was used as an evidence so we could arrest Derringer. Like the proverbial case full of money that's exchanged for the goods. Okay?"

"Okay," Danny answered, trying to stay calm.

"Usually, the money is transferred back later or the accounts are deleted. Because on a bust like that that, on the computer screen, the money is really there. It exists and can be transferred." When JD was again met with confused faces, he sighed.

"Botton line is: the money was transferred to Derringer's account, and the account was deleted later, like it should have been. But from what I found out, the money was gone by then. I don't know how or where to, the files are too old. But I know that the accound was just... empty. At least that is what the computer says. I mean it could be a bug."

"Or not. So you are telling us," Buck sighed, massaging his temples, "that someone hacked into the computer system of the bank during the Derringer bust and transferred the money before the account was deleted. Right?"

"Right," Danny answered for JD, his face dark. "And I know by whom." Suddenly many pieces of this puzzle made a lot more sense. And he did not like the picture he was seeing. He ignored the suprised faces and grabbed his cell phone. "What are you doing?" Buck asked, not really sure what was going on.

"Calling Jack. We need to get a search warrant for Darlene McEvoy's house." Then he turned towards JD. "As soon as we get it, I'm going to need your help."

JD nodded seriously. "Got it."

Buck on the other hand was not really listening anymore. Because here and now something else was happening, something bad. Not only that the money had disappeared. What worried him more was the fact that nobody noticed this.

He cursed through his teeth, grabbing his phone. If he was right, this indeed was a lot bigger than they had first thought. He hated it. Hated even the fact that he had consider it a possiblity. But it took a lot more than a hacker to pull something like this off.

At some point during the Derringer case, somebody on the inside had given away information.

And when it came down to it, it wasn't really about the money.

He hated to admit it, but obviously Ezra had been right. They were in way over their heads - and as soon as he made this phone call, the witch hunt would be on.

--------

Only a few minutes later, Chris' phone rang. He listened without a word and Nathan watched how his friend's face turned pale, then angry and determined. Next to them, Jack got off the phone and was talking to Martin.

When Chris lowered his phone, Jack turned towards him.

"We have a problem."

"I know," Chris interrupted him darkly, raising his hand. "It will have to wait." He took a deep breath. "I just talked to Travis," he shot a short glance at Nathan and then looked back at the others. The temperature in the waiting room dropped noticably. "From this moment on, the Derringer case has top priority and all information is classified." Jack was about to protest, but Chris ignored him.

"There's more. All agents who were originally assigned to that case or in some way familiar with it are taken off whatever they are working on now and reassigned to the Derringer case immediately."

He turned towards Simms who had gone pale. "That includes you and team nine..."

Then his eyes found Martin.

"... and Vin Tanner."

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

------

Short, sharp flashes of light overhead.

A cold, steady wind.

Jumbling thoughts of heading for the ranch to say good bye to that stupid horse.

Something stinging in his eyes.

Rapid blinking to get rid of it.

And then a hard impact out of nowhere, making the world whirl out of control.

The screaming, piercing sound of metal scraping over pavement.

Another sharp impact.

A gasp. No, a painful, forced intake of breath, too much pressure.

And then, for a long time, nothing.

Not a sound, expect for the wind.

A confused mind desperately tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Pain.

Pressure.

Cold.

No air. Not enough air.

Should breathing hurt like that? No.

Heaving, pain, no air and the desperate try to make the world turn just a little bit more, just so that everything was back where it was supposed to be.

No such luck though.

And then time seemed to speed up and filled the air with light, movement and voices. Voices that were talking to each other, then to him.

"...ir? Look at me, please. Try to concentrate on me. Can you tell me your name?"

It did not make any sense.

He heard the same voice saying the same thing over and over again, but it never made sense to him.

"...tell me your name?"

----

-----------

Comment: Tadaaa - and again I manage to cause total confusion and throw around facts like you wouldn't believe. Don't ask me how this happened, it just did. I wrote most of it in one go, suffering from an immense bout of insomnia. Again there is not much humor in this (and I know poor OCs don't count) and too much casefile, but I just needed to clear a few things up and answer some questions before we get really serious here. (Because hey, AD of the FBI still on his way! Uh oh.)

I know it is confusing. I know that a lot of stuff does not make sense right now. But I'll sort it out. Somehow ...

So if you are staring at this chapter now and think "Okay, up to this it was okay, but now you lost me..." I can understand that. I really went overboard with this (hides).

All I can say is that we finally reached a point in the story that I had wanted to get to for a long time. Phew!

In retrospect, maybe I should have divided this into two chapters. Because 12 pages (!!!) is really a lot to take in (it's almost as long as chaper 1! Jesus, what was I thinking?!). But since I am already writing chapter seven, I thought to hell with it :)