After finally getting the all clear to go into the building, Frank had shifted the weight of the fairly large food parcel he was carrying and set off at a slow jog. His heart pounded in his ears as the adrenaline pumped through his body like a drug. He took a slow breath in an attempt to calm himself down but he knew the effects wouldn't wane until he'd managed to clap eyes on his brother and make sure that he was really alright.

Taking the final staircase, he pushed through the doors onto the third floor hallway and paused for a moment. Though Lance and his gang were expecting him, it wouldn't do to throw caution to the wind. The Chief had impressed upon him just how crazy this guy was and he there was no point in taking risks. Lance had shot several people today without blinking after all.

Frank scooted forward and eyed both corridors forking off from the main hall. Heading to the west towards the door he knew was open, he had a moment of shock when he finally came to the point where the bloodbath had occurred earlier. Another thing Ezra had warned him about;

"Look Frank, those guys that went in there and didn't come out...it's not going to be pretty."

He'd seen his fair share of bodies in his relatively short life but the sight which greeted him still stopped him cold. Two of the officers were slumped against the wall, blood spray coating the hall from floor to ceiling. Another lay in a heap at their feet, he'd obviously been trying to help his comrade when he'd been taken out. The last lay on his back in front of Frank. Frank could see the man's dead eyes, still opened wide with shock, through the visor of his helmet. An involuntary shudder racked through his frame as he pulled himself together and carefully stepped around the fallen men. Thoughts of their families' sadness fogged through his brain and he shook his head impatiently. He would have to compartmentalise and deal with this later. He couldn't afford to be thrown off the task at hand.

He shuffled forwards attempting to avoid the blood pooling on the floor and looked up in time to see the face of one of the Marchettis peering through the door at him before turning, obviously to warn the rest of Frank's imminent arrival. Good, the last thing he'd wanted was to catch them off guard.

The man opened the door, a lethal looking weapon aimed directly at Frank's face, and motioned with his head for Frank to enter the room. He walked forward, adjusting the package as he went, almost as if to prove to everyone that this was his main intent.

"Welcome," Lance's voice was much more chilling in HD. He'd sounded crazy enough over the phone but in the flesh the undercurrent of insanity in his words was all too obvious. "I trust our order is present and correct?"

"Food and water just like you asked," Frank replied. The Chief had warned him against starting up conversation, he was strictly there to deliver the parcel and walk the traded hostages out. But Lance didn't seem the type to take too fondly to his words being ignored.

From the corner of his eye Frank noted the prone form of his brother...and the way his head whipped round at the sound of his voice.

Don't give the game away little brother Frank thought to himself without fully looking at Joe. It wouldn't do for the sharks to know that the two men were related. God only knew the outcome of that situation. He needn't have worried however. Joe wasn't stupid and although he couldn't help the look of horror that crossed his face, he recovered his composure quickly, slowly moving his head until it rested on the ground once more.

"Good, now how about you set it on the floor and we'll check to make sure you weren't stupid enough to come in here packing," Lance said, motioning with his gun at his feet where he obviously wanted Frank to place the box.

He slowly moved forward, lowering the parcel to the ground before taking a step back. Lance nodded at Pietro who strode forward and began to roughly pat Frank down. They wouldn't find anything however, the Chief had been damn clear about the no weapons allowed rule. Frank couldn't think of a faster way to get himself killed at that moment.

As Lance bent down and fixed his attention on the box before him, Frank finally allowed himself a moment to rake the room with his eyes and take everything in. The hostages were all huddled in a group, eyes starting to take on a weary cast. The nurse who'd helped Joe had hers fixed on his face as Pietro continued searching him. Frank had to stop himself from nodding at her for her earlier help with his brother. He really didn't want to clue anyone in on his and Joe's relationship. Finally his eyes rested on the dishevelled form of Joe. He was still flat out on the floor and appeared to be twitching every now and again in obvious discomfort. His face was smeared with the blood from the cut on his cheek and his lip, the skin underneath already coloured with bruises. He clutched his left arm across his chest to keep it immobile. All in all he looked like crap but Frank was relieved to see him alert and awake.

As bad as Joe looked, he was the life of the party compared to the injured doctor. The man was now pretty much unconscious, his skin taking on a sallow, waxy sheen. Frank knew if they didn't get him out within the hour it was likely he wouldn't wake up. He jumped slightly as Lance apparently finished poking around in the bag and stood back up to his full height.

"Well, it seems the Chief is as good as his word," he began.

"Are you as good as yours?" Frank replied. He couldn't help himself, the Chief's advice on staying silent flying out of his head as he took in the scared faces before him. As much as Joe's headlong dashes into danger exasperated him, Frank was always filled with as much empathy when faced with the victims of crime.

"Now, now kid," Lance said, his eyes flinty. "Let's not get hasty. I'm sure the good Chief will be interrupting this picnic before it can get started."

The phone in Lance's hand started to jangle almost the second he had finished his sentence. Lance smiled without humour, eyes boring into Frank's as he slowly brought the phone to his face.

"Chieefff."

"Lance? All right, you have your food, let's talk hostages."

"Tut, tut and I didn't even have chance for a drink first. Terrible manners," Lance replied.

"You'll have plenty of time for that once some of those people have been turned loose," replied the Chief, forcibly keeping his tone even. "I want as many people out of there as possible Lance."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you 'I want never gets'?" Lance asked. "I'm willing to let your boy here walk out of this fine establishment with four of my cattle. Four. No more, no less."

"Come on Lance, you can do better than that."

"Don't push your luck Chief or that number will half."

"Lance, let's make it an even five OK? We've played by your rules up till now, why not show you're willing to give a little as well?" For a moment the professional tone of the Chief's voice broke and a shard of his true feelings poured into his words.

"Fine Chief, seeing as we're getting to be such good pals these days, you can have five of the inmates. To be perfectly honest I'm getting tired of hearing them whine," Lance replied after a pause.

"Thank you Lance," the Chief replied obviously gritting his teeth against what he really had to say to the jackal on the other end of the phone.

Without answering the Chief, Lance ended the call before looking across the room to Abigail who snapped her head up in response to his movement.

"Go fetch a trolley for the good doctor, there's a girl," he said, eyes narrowing "I don't think there's much chance of him walking out of here himself now do you?"

Nodding once, Abbie turned on the spot and headed to an inconspicuous corner to grab one of the vacant trolleys before wheeling it towards where the unconscious man lay bleeding. Lance lazily scanned the huddled mass of people before him before lifting a hand and pointing at three women who were easily the more skittish of the group.

"Huey, Dewey and Louis, front and centre," he said, motioning with his head to join Abbie near the doctor. "Your crying is making my teeth itch."

Standing slowly, the women flocked closer to each other instinctively, tears silently streaming down their faces but suppressed hope flashing in their eyes at the thought of getting out of the room with their lives. Lance raked the room once more, stopping at Mary who was sitting next to one of her team of receptionists who was obviously desperate to be picked, but trembling at the thought of being under the crazy man's scrutiny.

"How about you grandma?" he said, before considering the weeping woman next to her. "Or how about your pretty friend?"

Mary arched her head defiantly. "Take Clarissa," she replied huskily "you don't scare me none sonny."

"Oh really?" Lance said slowly, "well how about a little eeny, meeny, miny, moe..." he asked whilst pointing at each of them in turn nonchalantly. At the word moe his finger stopped on the now openly crying face of Clarissa, who stood silently and made her way to the others after shooting a glance at Mary who nodded at her in reassurance.

"Tony, Pietro, get the doctor on that gurney so we can get him out of my sight," Lance said snapping his head to the faces of his men, "he's making such a mess."

They each nodded once and stepped forward before bodily lifting the limp man onto the trolley. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while and groaned slightly at their rough handling before passing out once more.

"Right now, boy scout," Lance said turning to Frank, "get these pathetic excuses for humans out of here."

Frank nodded in response, fighting the urge to look at his brother one last time in reassurance before turning to the huddle of scared women before him clustered around the trolley. His entire body screamed at him to not leave Joe alone in this room again, but he knew he had to follow both Ezra and Lance's orders or risk ending up in the same boat himself. Fighting his protesting leg muscles he walked towards the gurney.

He had just reached up and put his hands onto the frame behind the doctors head, with the intention of pushing the trolley, when a distant voice caught the attention of everyone in the room. It was coming from the small ward in the corner of the department. Frank remembered Dante with a jolt. Lance had been running the show for so many hours now that he'd almost entirely forgotten about the actual head of the family.

"Stop!" The word rang distinctively from the doorway. Lance nodded to Nick who had been put on guard duty after his run in with Joe had left him mostly incapacitated and useless for other tasks. Nick turned towards Dante's bed before turning back to Lance.

"The boss wants a word with the kid," he said thickly through his obviously broken nose.

"Pietro, kindly escort Mr Hardy wouldn't you?" Lance replied although confusion briefly crossed his face. Pietro bent down and grabbed Joe's good arm and began to haul him to his feet. Joe grunted in pain at the manhandling.

Nick turned once more to the bed as Dante's muffled voice was heard once more.

"No," he said turning back to Lance, "the other kid."

Well originally I didn't plan on having a chapter break here..but I just did a word count of where I was actually going to stop it and it came out at nearly five thousand...so I figured I'd shoe horn one in :D

Thank you so much for all the reviews. They make my face very happy.

As always, any comments or critiques are warmly appreciated.