(Disclaimers got to the Prologue, please.)

CHAPTER 5:

"Martin, come in to my office, please." Martin looked up at the sound of Jack's voice behind him. Jack met his gaze and nodded his head towards his office. With a slight sigh Martin got up and followed him.

"Have a seat." Jack motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk and, instead of sitting behind his desk subtly keeping a barrier not only physically but emotionally between him and others; he took the second chair and angled himself towards Martin.

"Does the name Noah Shook mean anything to you?"

"Other than being the name of the man driving the 18-wheeler, no. Why?"

"Just that he seems to have dropped off the radar completely. The Virginia State Police called his number to have him come back in and give another interview, and he's nowhere to be found. He hasn't been back at work, his friends and family haven't seen him. He hasn't been to any of his normal recreational places – there's nothing. He's gone."

"I saw his picture at the police station and, of course, I met him at the viewing but other than that I haven't ever seen him or spoken to him before." Martin was positive about his comments until he remembered a case not too long ago when he had been asked for specifically by the missing girl's brother because she had worked with him and his team members in Seattle. The problem was, in the end after the girl tragically killed herself, Martin could never place her face in his memory. Since then he'd been making a concerted effort to take notice of the people that were regularly in his life, even if just for brief moments each time.

"Maybe if I take a look at his background information it will ring a bell but right now I have no recollection of him."

"All right. An agent who's conducting the official investigation will come and review Shook's information with you and interview you. Van Doren filled me in on this earlier so I wanted to give you a head's up."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Martin wanted to ask if there were any other developments but just couldn't bring himself to say the words. It seemed so strange to be working as an FBI agent and a participant in an investigation at the same time. Well, if this morning's run was any indication of how good it was to sort through some of his thoughts, he'd be getting up earlier tomorrow to run longer. He could start a list of all the various thoughts that needed sorting.

"Anything else?"

"Not on this, but we did catch a case. Call the group together; I'll be out in a moment to brief everyone."

"Sure." Martin stood up, grateful to push aside his own problems and get to work on someone else's.

Two days later Martin was once again getting ready to head into the office. He'd enjoyed three morning runs in a row and felt like his form was returning quickly. He relished the morning runs because of the quiet and peace that was afforded him. However, this morning he had had a distinctly uneasy feeling during his run. As is normal for most who are involved in any type of high stress, high danger occupation, Martin's instincts were honed a little sharper and this morning he was certain he was being followed. Once during his run he had stopped abruptly and listened. Sure enough there was the sound of footsteps behind him and then suddenly silence.

Not wanting to tip his follower that he was aware, Martin nonchalantly performed a couple of leg stretches while he scanned his surroundings. He saw no one but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled sharply, and he knew with a certainty that he was the mouse in someone's game of cat and mouse. Deciding there was safety in numbers; Martin altered his run and opted for a longer but slightly more crowded route home. Within under a minute he was out on a main boulevard that was beginning to fill in with other joggers and commuters. Twenty minutes later he was back at his apartment never having sighted his follower but certain in a sixth sense way that he had been marked and followed all the way home.

Martin figured he'd mention this to Meredith even though he felt silly about the whole thing. He didn't have any proof besides hearing some footsteps and his sixth sense. For all he knew, it could have been another runner like himself who feared for their safety and stopped when he had. Still, he'd told Jack he would cooperate and so he decided that when he got to the office, he'd give Meredith a call.

This time as he left his apartment he wasn't in a huge hurry despite altering his run that morning. He hadn't been sleeping a lot since his parent's death and had risen earlier to run so he actually had some time to spare. He and Danny had a 9:30 meeting set up at their latest missing person's place of employment. He would be able to get into the office before 8:00, call Meredith and meet up with Danny to head to the warehouse on the docks in plenty of time. The fact that he had the time this morning caused him to pay attention to the folded white sheet of paper taped to his front door. Instead of tossing it inside or shoving it in his pocket he stood there, unfolded it and read the words. Instantly the hairs on his neck stood straight up and he felt a chill run up his spine and through his scalp as he read the words printed in block letters using black ink:

RUN TO THE PARK RUN TO A BUSY STREET RUN DOWN AN ALLEY RUN WHEREVER YOU WANT YOU WILL NOT OUTRUN ME

Shocked Martin stood still for a moment and then training kicked in. Reaching inside his briefcase he pulled out one of the evidence bags he kept inside, slipped the sheet of paper inside, sealed it up, and put it inside his briefcase. Yes, he definitely would be turning this in to Meredith. With a quick look up and down the hall Martin headed down to his car.

He no sooner settled in his car and locked the door behind him when his cell phone rang. Sticking the key in the ignition and turning the car on with one hand he pulled out his phone with the other and flicked it open. Call ID said it was Jack.

"Fitzgerald."

"I need you to head to the docks right now. The rest of the team is heading there. We're meeting up with the local PD and a SWAT team. Seems our missing person isn't missing anymore. He's in the warehouse you and Danny were headed to later this morning. He says he's got a bomb and is going to blow up the building. Since we've been profiling him for the last two days looking for him, PD wants us involved."

"Got it. You need lights and sirens?."

"Absolutely. Everyone is rolling Code 3."

Martin pulled the dome light out, rolled down his window and activated it. He waited until he was out of the garage before hitting his siren and sped down the road to the warehouse; his briefcase on the seat next to him forgotten, along with the sheet of paper in the evidence bag that lay inside the case.

Arriving at the scene Martin spotted his team assembling while Vivian pulled in right behind him. He popped his trunk and grabbed his gear trading his overcoat and suit jacket for his bullet proof vest, windbreaker and a baseball cap; all visibly displaying the initials FBI. With Vivian hurrying alongside him in her matching gear he reached Jack who began splitting the teams up.

"Martin, you, Elena and Danny go with Lieutenant Tibbs and his officers. You're going to come around the side by the river. Sam, Vivian, you're with Hotaling's men covering the other side."

The team broke up while Jack remained with Rick Torriani, the leader of the SWAT team. As always they would try to negotiate first. They were unsure how many people remained inside the warehouse or even if Brian Schuford, their missing person now potential bomber, even had a bomb.

That question was answered within under a minute as one of the sharpshooters for Torriani's SWAT team radioed back that he had a clear view of the subject and that he did, in fact, have a remote control in his hand. A few seconds later another member of the team, whose specialty was fiber optics, reported in saying that he had snaked a periscope camera through a window and managed to get a view of the area around Schuford. There was what looked to be a bomb on the floor at his feet. The SWAT member also reported there were at least twenty people inside the room. They were assembled in one group and seated on the floor near a truck that was labeled flammable, dangerous, contents under pressure.

"Great. We have a building with the potential to blow sky high, close to two dozen hostages, a guy with a bomb and no idea what his problem is. This should be simple to negotiate. Do we have a phone line in there? Any idea what's going on in this guy's head?"

"That's why we brought you guys in here. Heard you were looking for him since he'd been called in missing so we hoped you would have some insight into his mindset." Rick Torriani loved the thrill of the moment, but he was experienced and mature enough in his work to know that thrills were better enjoyed through rock climbing or parachuting. There was no thrill in having twenty hostages and over two dozen law enforcement personnel in harm's way. He sized Jack up quickly and knew that he was right to have called in Malone once he'd been briefed the Feds had been looking for this guy. Malone, like him, understood life and death situations. He would help if he could, but he would not get in the way if Torriani chose to end this quickly.

"My team and I have been looking into this guy's background for the last two days. He's unmarried but has a steady girlfriend. She's the person who called him in as missing. They've been living together for the last five years and she said that he'd been fine; not acting worried, no strange visitors, nothing and then suddenly he didn't come home from work one night. We've been trailing his bank accounts, phone records, nothing. We were here two days ago when we got called in and this morning two members of my team were due back to conduct some follow up interviews with people he worked with when you guys called us. So far, there's nothing to tell us he'd do anything like this."

"Great. Well, like I said, he's not communicating with us. Apparently he came in like normal, carrying a box but nobody thought anything of it. Then he started screaming that he was going to blow everybody up, and he set the box on the ground and started screaming that he was going to push the button on the remote if the SWAT, PD and the FBI didn't come down here. So, here we are."

"Great, we're here. He knows we're here, but he's not talking. Does he know the FBI is here now, too?" When Torriani shook his head indicating no, Jack held his hand out for the megaphone.

"Brian Shuford, this is Jack Malone from the FBI. My team and I have been looking for you for the past couple of days. You're girlfriend, Marianne, has been worried about you. She's asked us to look for you. She's scared. Now that we've found you, why don't you let us get you back to Marianne. She's really very worried and frightened for you."

Jack stopped talking and waited, listening and hoping Brian would reach out to them. After about thirty seconds of silence, one of Torriani's snipers called in with an update.

"Boss, this guy is really out of it. He's weaving around the room, looks like he's screaming and yelling, I can't tell what he's saying but he just keeps waving the remote device around. If I have a shot, do I have the green light?"

Torriani looked at Jack. Jack thought for a few moments and looked at his counterpart.

"It's your call. We haven't uncovered anything in our research on this guy that points to this kind of behavior. If he's not reaching out to us, I don't see how we can put his welfare above that of everyone else left on this pier."

Torriani nodded his agreement and keyed his mike.

"This is leader to sniper 1 and 2, you are go. Repeat. You are a go. If you have the shot, take the shot. Repeat, the light is green."

Less than twenty seconds later the crack of a sniper's rifle split through the air.

"Martin!" Danny shouted in horror as he saw Martin get thrown backward and disappear over the edge of the pier from the force of the impact.

"Shots fired! Shots fired! Agent down! Agent down!" Danny shouted into his radio as he raced without regard for his own safety to where Martin had disappeared. Reaching the edge he looked and saw the white foaming disturbance of the water and knew Martin had disappeared into the dark and near freezing water. Quickly he shed his jacket, vest and kicked off his shoes. He saw one of Tibbs' men racing his way as he heard Jack's voice shouting in his ear piece. Elena was beside him and he tossed her his gun before leaping off the edge feet first.

His plan was to jump directly in the center of the disturbed water hoping it would take him on Martin's path. He knew that, if Martin was conscious when he hit, he would struggle to surface with the weight of his vest and shoes. Danny didn't want to think about if Martin wasn't conscious. In less than a second he hit the icy water and the shock ripped straight through his body and rational thought fled. He almost gasped at the searing pain in his body as if millions of icy daggers were digging through his flesh. He managed to curl over himself so that he was now descending hands first and almost cried out in relief when his hands almost immediately touched fabric. Praying that a miracle had been granted he grabbed on full force and dragged whatever it was towards him. He realized almost immediately that it was Martin and that he was conscious and was trying to surface. Wrapping Martin tight to his chest he kicked strongly and between his strong efforts and Martin's weaker ones they surfaced.

Danny kept Martin clutched tight to his chest and eased onto his back in the water. He was shaking with the cold and could feel Martin's body shaking as well. He heard shouts and turned around to see that they were about twenty feet away from the edge of the dock and several workers had run to their aid. Danny kicked with his feet and used one arm to push through the water and was slowly making progress. Someone threw a rope that landed just ahead of his hand, kicking harder he reached it, grabbed hold and managed to loop it around his wrist. Still kicking to keep them afloat he felt the tension increase on the rope until it pulled on his arm and they were pulled to safety.

Several hands reached out and grabbed Martin from him. Martin tried to help but was too disoriented from the fall, the cold and the force of the impact. He was shaking badly and trying to breathe normally again since all the air had been knocked out of him when the bullet slammed into his vest. Danny watched gratefully as Martin was hauled onto the pier and then allowed himself to be pulled up as well.

Looking up Danny saw Jack racing towards him. Their rescuers were crowding around them trying to ask them what happened and all Danny could do was shake with cold and reach out to Martin who was curled on his side coughing and shaking.

"Federal Agents, step back, please, please. Somebody get some blankets. I've got the rescue team on its way here."

Somehow Sam had appeared, Danny didn't remember seeing her running with Jack but there she was and she had managed to notify the ambulance crew that was dispatched with the SWAT team in case something went wrong and Danny heard the siren signaling the fast approach of the paramedics.

"Martin, Martin. Where were you hit?" Jack was kneeling next to his agent. While he was peppering Martin with questions trying to keep him awake as hypothermia was a real concern due to the temperature of the water and the ambient air, he was quickly removing Martin's windbreaker and undoing the Velcro straps of the life saving vest.

Martin's only response was to continue to cough and gasp for air. Once Jack pulled off Martin's vest the answer was clear. One bullet was embedded in the vest right over the spot of Martin's heart, not wanting to dwell on that at this moment Jack continued to pull off Martin's shirt, glancing quickly at Danny he saw that Sam was helping him do the same. At that moment the paramedics arrived and quickly took over.

Three hours later, the team regrouped in the conference room at the MPU office. Martin and Danny had been taken to the hospital and checked over. Martin had had x-rays to verify that no ribs had been broken but several were severely bruised. His lungs were clear although the doctor did warn him that he might develop a chest cold and, if he showed signs, he should head to his own doctor immediately.

Danny had been checked over as well but, since he was cold and not hurt, once he warmed up he was given a clean bill of health. Elena drove them both back to the office where they settled in at the conference table in the spare clothes they kept in their cars for travel and for workouts after work. Still shaking even though their body temperature was normal, both men opted for their sweatpants and thick sweatshirts.

Vivian set steaming mugs of coffee in both men's hands and rested her own comfortingly on each of their shoulders for a moment.

Martin wrapped both hands around the mug and took a sip relishing as the liquid heat slid down his throat. He could trace the travel of the coffee as he felt the trail of heat on his insides. He shuddered in the enjoyment of the sensation which sent Sam, just entering the room, to disappear momentarily only to return with two thick blankets. She wrapped one around Martin, lightly cuffing him on his head when he began to protest and handed the other to Danny.

"What, not going to wrap me up?" Danny tried to look hurt but managed to pout instead.

"Nope, you have too much pride. Martin has more commonsense."

Danny groaned while Martin grinned and gripped the blanket gratefully. Just then Jack entered the room. He eyed his agents critically, noticing their incredibly casual attire. Good, that will make sending them home easier.

"Well, that's another case successfully closed." Jack's dry humor caused them all to chuckle a bit. Granted, to some the humor would be ghoulish, since they closed their missing person file with the missing person ending up on the medical examiner's table with a bullet through his forehead but, when someone worked in the law enforcement or medical field or any field that put you in touch with the best and the worst life can offer, humor takes many forms and is necessary to keep those who labor in the field sane.

"So, Martin, I checked with the hospital, bruised ribs. That earns you the rest of today off and a week of light duty until you see your own doctor and he clears you for full duty. Danny, you get the rest of today off because you're an idiot."

"What?! I –"

"You broke cover with someone shooting, You jumped into near freezing water –"

"And saved my partner's life! That makes me more a hero I believe."

"Exactly what I said…hero/idiot…idiot/hero. It's really all the same thing. You didn't think. You acted. You didn't think of yourself, the danger you were putting yourself in. You just acted. Your actions could have gotten yourself injured or killed; thankfully, your actions saved a life. Good job."

Martin reached over and closed Danny's mouth that was hanging open speechless for once. Swatting away Martin's hand Danny began to chuckle.

Jack began again in a more serious tone.

"However, before you go -- because you're both leaving now you can do your reports at home separately and turn them in tomorrow -- Martin, I need to see you in my office."

Shrugging out of the blanket Martin stood, grabbed his coffee mug and followed Jack out.

"Me, what make you think I'm a target?" Martin was sitting in the chair across from Jack's desk while Jack was in his usual spot behind the desk.

"A bullet center-mass tells me you're a target." Jack waited as he watched Martin stare at him. Jack was almost certain he could hear the wheels cranking in Martin's head.

"So, somebody is out there with a high-powered rifle, and takes a shot at law enforcement on the dock and you suspect that I'm the target? That doesn't make a lot of sense. First of all Danny was barely fifteen feet from me wearing nearly identical clothing. Between the caps and sunglasses we both had on it would be nearly impossible to tell between him and me, not to mention that there were over two dozen police officers on that dock and hundreds of other people. It's entirely possible that whoever fired that shot was looking to shoot at somebody this morning anyway and decided it would make the game more exciting to shoot at law enforcement and who would be the bigger fish? The NYPD? SWAT? Or the FBI? As soon as we hit the scene it was all over, we're the biggest name on the dock so go after someone with FBI on his head, back and chest."

"It's a good argument, Martin. And, normally I would agree with you, but just a week and half ago you were attacked in your apartment and nearly strangled and now you're shot in the chest. The fact that you had your bullet proof vest on and a partner who was ready to die saving you is the only reason you're sitting here arguing with me."

"Okay. How does someone trying to mug me in my apartment nearly two weeks ago become a sniper? If someone wanted me dead, they'd have done a better job two weeks ago or today. I mean, come on, Jack, if you're a sniper and you're hunting someone to kill them, you don't take a chest shot when you can be absolutely certain they're wearing a vest. You take the kill shot. That's what the SWAT snipers did this morning."

Jack was silent as he mulled over Martin's words. He realized Martin was right. If someone really wanted to kill someone, they wouldn't do it in such a risky manner with so many variables. Besides, who would have known Martin was even at the docks that morning. No, if someone wanted Martin dead, they'd follow him on the outside and attack him when he wasn't wearing a vest and was isolated.

"Yeah, you're right. I just needed to hear the arguments argued back at me. Look, go home. Try to get some sleep. Put some ice on your ribs, watch a movie, whatever. Tomorrow you can hang out in the office. No running around for a few days. Ah, your ride is here."

Jack nodded to the door as Sam opened it and stood there.

"I can drive myself."

"Yeah, yeah, we know. Come on. Remember, I said you were the one with commonsense. Don't make a liar out of me."

Jack watched them go. Martin made good arguments – sound arguments but Jack hadn't gotten where he had gotten in the FBI without learning to trust his instincts. He didn't have proof and the random events could be just that, random events, but he didn't think so. Grabbing the phone he dialed Van Doren's office.

TBC…

(Author's note: I took pity on the readers, especially since I am often the reader not the writer, since Chapter 4 was so short, I gave you Chapter 5 as well. Don't expect that every time. Thanks for everyone who is reading and writing or just plain reading.)