Alex took a deep breath as he looked around the room. So far, he'd seen nothing that could help him escape. It made sense; Ian Rider wasn't stupid. Still, Ian would have been counting on Alex to be docile, like before. He didn't realize that now Alex had hope, he had a reason to escape. He didn't realize that Alex belonged to the sergeant, now, Tyler, his father, not him.

Even if Alex died – which he hoped and prayed he would not – at least he would die knowing that someone loved him, a feeling that he had never had before in his life. He forcefully exhaled, breathing deeply as he once again scanned the walls. It didn't matter who he belonged to biologically, by DNA. John and Helen Rider had claimed him; Ian had claimed him; his mother had claimed him. (His father had always done his best to deny his presence, until now.)

Alex wasn't quite sure what his father's sudden interest in his existence was. His father had only been interested in him before to torture him, something that Alex didn't like. He suspected his father's interest in him now was for the same reason, but he couldn't be sure. He was sure now, however, that his father was working separately from Ian; Ian obviously had his own plans – but what?

Whatever they were, they obviously were not good. Ian never been interested in him for good reasons before – so why was he interested in him now? Knowing that could either really help Alex's case or it could really hurt it. Alex sighed as he glanced at the carpet, wondering who the guy who had been torturing him earlier was. Fox sure seemed to know him. Or he seemed to know Fox. Alex wasn't sure which.

The door opened again, and Ian appeared. "Just in case you got any idea about escaping," he responded. He set something on the floor, then pointed to the ground. "Lay down," he instructed.

"No," Alex replied. He wasn't going to listen to Ian, not if he could help it. He knew it was stupid, he knew it would only get him beaten up, but it was just not in his nature to randomly roll over and listen to someone, even despite the years of pain he'd suffered through.

Ian grabbed him by the shoulders, shoving him onto the ground. "Let me go!" Alex said, kicking out at him, trying to break free. He just wanted to go home, to be anywhere but this place. It didn't look like it was going to happen anytime soon.

"Shut up," Ian said. He kept a firm latch on Alex's hands as he reached for his black bag he'd left in the corner. "We need to get out of here before your father finds us."

That statement made it chillingly clear – Ian Rider was working on his own. That scared Alex. That meant that Ian wanted him, and Alan Blunt wanted him. Would there be no end to escape? He had to fight to keep the tears from coming down his face as his hands were roughly yanked behind his back.

If Ian was indeed working on his own, which obviously he was, that meant his biological father was coming to get him. When Ian was done, Blunt would no doubt kill him and then take Alex. Would there be any hope for Alex – ever?

After successfully handcuffing Alex, Ian released his grip. Alex was sure he would now have a bruise from where Ian had been grabbing him.

"We're going to have a lot of fun, Alex," Ian responded to Alex's glare as he started to tie Alex's feet. "You caused me a lot of trouble, and I want my revenge."

"Oh, really?" a second voice demanded coldly. "You won't be getting it," the voice continued.

Oh, God, Alex thought, it was his father.

One way or another, he was surely going to die.

"No!" Snake said, shaking his comrade roughly. "Wolf, dammit, wake up! Joshua, don't you dare do this to me, damn-it, you promised!" If Charlie had been thinking more clearly, he would have realized it was the first time that Snake had actually called his leader by name.

"We need a medic!" Charlie yelled, waving his hands at the incoming medic. Thank God they were so close to downtown. The bullets hadn't continued; whoever had fired must have left the crime scene. "Over here!" He shouted frantically.

"Charlie, get the hell out of here!" Don Eppes yelled, rushing to the scene, his gun drawn. He hadn't even bothered to put on his vest. Eagle and the sergeant followed him, becoming his back-up.

"Is Wolf okay, Snake?" the sergeant demanded, dropping to his knees.

"He's not breathing!" Snake said, raising his voice. The ambulance workers came in, racing their cot on the scene. "Damn it, Wolf, don't you dare do this, or I'm going to kill you!"

The ambulance worker knelt down and felt Wolf's body. "You check his pulse?"

"Nothing."

"Get me a shock pad over here!" the medic yelled towards another worker.

It was ten hours later when a very somber group met in the office. Snake had gone with Wolf to the hospital, since he was a medical personal and could help, not hinder, in the ambulance. He was here now to give them news. Or at least, he would be in a few minutes.

"You're driving me nuts," Don told Eagle, glancing at the SAS man. He seemed really upset. Don couldn't say he blamed him; one of his team members had just been shot, probably killed, and another was missing.

Eagle ignored Don in favor of slumping down in his chair. "You ever wonder if what we really do is worth it?" he asked.

"What do you mean by that?" Don asked. He was taken aback by Eagle's question.

"I mean, you know, protecting our countries? Defending them?"

Don wasn't sure how to take the question, so he just responded honestly. "All the time. You know which one Colby Granger is, right?"

Eagle nodded. "Yeah… how could I not?"

"He was undercover for two years, trying to fish out someone who was illegal in the DOJ. Long story short, we thought he was guilty when they arrested him; he wasn't. It was a hell of a long six weeks, he was proven innocent, but damn nearly died for our country," Don replied. "Do I ever wonder if it's worth it? Hell, yeah. Then I go home and look at my father, my brother, go to my brother's college campus, and remember that that's why I do it, so that they're kept safe."

The door opened then. Snake walked into the room, followed by Colby Granger, the one who they were just speaking about, the sergeant, and David Sinclair. From the grim look on Snake's face, Don had a bad feeling he knew exactly what the man was going to say.

"Wolf – Joshua – didn't make it."

"Get off my son before I put a bullet in your brain," Alan Blunt said, stalking over to Ian. "I really must say thank-you for looking out for him for the time being, but I think that somewhere along the way you forgot that he was my child, not yours."

"Oh, yeah, your child, sense you care so much about him, right?" Ian sneered, standing up. "You just now decide to start caring for him, after you get yourself arrested?"

Alex was half tempted to shout, hey! Right here, you idiots!, but refrained. He didn't want the attention of his father's gun drawn to him.

"I don't know whether I should leave you here for the cops to find, or shoot you now," Alan said as he leveled the gun at Ian. Alex was watching this out of the corner of his eye, careful to keep his nose firmly rested against the ground. He paused, carefully weighing his options mentally. Before Alex could say or do anything, a bullet fired, and Ian cried out. It only hit his shoulder, from what Alex could tell, but Ian went down, hard.

Alan grabbed his son by his shoulders, shaking him roughly as he dragged him. Ian looked like he was about to reach for his gun, but another bullet from Blunt stopped that. The door slammed shut, and Alex didn't protest as his father dragged him down the stairs.

"Don't ever say I don't care about you, Alex," he said. Alex glanced at the car behind his father's car; it was there behind him. "I just hurt someone else to protect you."

Yeah, so you could torture me more, he thought, but didn't dare say that out loud as he was roughly shoved into the back seat. The door was slammed shut.

"Do me a favor and take care of the body, okay?" was all he heard his father say before Alan Blunt got into the car and drive away.

Katakana felt sick as he looked at Ian. The body was on the floor, clear as day. It was still warm. He checked the pulse, it was still there, the man was still breathing. Shit, it looked like his part of the mission was over. He flipped open his phone, dialing the all too familiar number, the American's version of 9-9-9 – 911.

The EMTS had quickly taken Ian away to try and get him treated. Katakana had shouted that he was dangerous, but wasn't sure if he would be believed. Suddenly, the room flooded with FBI. He tried to scream that he was CIA, undercover in the SAS, but none of them listened. One, whose badge read EPPES, forced his hands behind his back and handcuffed him, reading him his Miranda rights.

He wondered how long he would spend in jail before he could get someone from CIA to bail him out.

Challenge:

Is Katakana really CIA/SAS? If he is, is he good?

Is Ian dead?

How long will Alan get to spend with Blunt?

Can't wait for your reviews!