Alexis

What the hell?... aw, my head... what is that?... is that music?... sounds like... Blue Öyster Cult?... yes Burnin for you...why that, and why only the guitar part?...

"I'm burnin, I'm burnin, I'm burnin for you."

I hesitantly opened my eyes. The light in the room stung them and overwhelmed me. I blinked. The room became more focused.

The man I saw, the one who abducted me, was playing a electric guitar. His eyes were closed, and he seemed completely focused on his task. He sang softly to his music.

I flexed my and. It responded. I could move, even with a splitting headache. Quietly as I could, I got off the couch. And froze.

He hadn't noticed. What kind of kidnapper was this.

Jake Tanner.

The infamous assassin was going to make this mistake? He would pay for his folly.

I padded to the door of the studio apartment we were in. I was within five feet when he stopped playing and called, "Don't. I'll just catch you again."

crap.

He resumed playing, this time the James Bond theme song. He was good at least. I stayed frozen near the door.

He stopped again, "You want to get tranqed again?"

Without a word I stepped away from the door. I could feel my heart hammering, my brain processing everything at once. Memorizing every little detail. The grain of the wood of the door. The exact note of his playing. The exact tenor of his voice.

I placed myself in the farthest corner from him. It didn't matter. I could see a gun strapped to his thigh.

He stopped. Suddenly he smiled and began to play.

Da dum dum dada dumdum dum dum dada dum dada dum dada dum dum.

The Top Gun theme song. One of my favorites. And judging by his face, it was his. And he played it well.

He finished, and looked happy, "Man, first time in years I've played a guitar, let alone that," he smiled at himself, "You liked it too, didn't you?"

I curled further into my corner.

He rolled his eyes, "I'm not going to hurt. Just hit a snag in the mission."

"Mission?"

"Jake Tanner is just an alias. I am not really a assassin-for-hire," he scoffed, "Really, I am! I mean, I am an assassin, but, ya know, James bond style," to emphasize the point he played a few bars of the spy's theme song, "Government stuff."

I stayed silent and away from him. He openly admitted to being a killer and he wants me to trust him? Is he crazy?

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that you think I'm crazy," his jaw dropped, "Sweet mother Molasses, you think that exactly, don't you?"

I slowly nodded my head. He looked shocked, "Okay, I'm good at reading emotions, but that is kind of spooky," yes it is, "But really, I'm not going to hurt you. Here," he pulled out a blue box from his pocket, "Got some Aleve for that head ache."

He shook the box. It was tempting, but resisted. In response, the throbbing in my head got more painful. I didn't want t be anywhere near him.

The door slammed open, and I jumped. Tanner did to, except his was augmented by drawing his gun.

A man stood in the doorway, clutching a hastily bandaged forearm. He glared at the gun in Tanner's hand. Tanner immediately reholsterd it. So their was two of them. Like Tanner, this one was average looking, bu he was much older than Tanner. He looked at least fifty, his face lined and haggard. His hair had large amounts of gray, and his eyes had a deep set look common with alcoholics. He looked at Tanner and said, "You play the guitar?"

Tanner shrugged, "Haven't played in years. But this assignment is bringing up my past anyway, so, what the hell?"

The old guy grunted, "Need some help with this," he showed Tanner his forearm, "And what the hell is she doing here?"

"I thought on my feet," he said.

"This is why I don't like working with you, you screw around to much."

"Ouch, Patriks. That hurts."

They bantered about, seeming to forget about me. The old guy, Patriks, sat down on the couch and grudgingly showed Tanner his forearm. Tanner carefully removed the bandages. He took one look at it and asked, "K-bar, right?"

"Yep. Bastard knew how to use it, too."

"Kak on vasudivljaet?"

"Nozom X nalazvie."

"DA?"

"Ne nuzno kritnatc."

"Zalb."

"Eiote ougchoreitai."

"Hijos de puta."

Tanner now seemed pissed off at his companion. He got off the stool he sat on and went to the kitchen. He pulled out a red emergency medical pack. Patriks asked, "Qui est-elle, de toute façon?"

Yes, French! Even though I am bad in the subject, I could understand enough to realize he said, "Who is she?"

"Castle's de la fille."

Castle's daughter.

"Sais-tu seulement son nom?"

Something about knowing my name.

"Hey kid, what's your name?" Tanner asked.

I hesitantly answered, "A-Alexis."

"Poco Lexi."

Crap. They turned to Spanish.

They continued like this, switching from language to language frequently. Only a few times did they use French. Finally they turned to English.

"What are we gonna do with her?"

Do with me? "Please don't kill me!" I curled up tighter in a ball and my breathing turned shallow again.

"Great, now your sending her into shock!" Tanner scolded.

"¡¿Me? tu el que secuestraron a ella! "

"Lets not play the blame game or the 'who-abducted-who' game her," Tanner reasoned, "I have a plan. It is going to involve her. And don't worry, Little Lexi," he turned to me, "You won't be harmed."

"¿Y cuál es ese plan?"

Tanner started speaking in rapid Spanish. I heard him use the words "Kate y Castle".

"Piensa que puede herir Bourne antes de que llegue a ellos?" Patiks asked.

"¿Es una prostituta de ochenta años de edad, fácil?"

Patriks shuddered, "Gracias, por esta bella imagen," Even in the Spanish I could hear the Sarcasm.

"Your welcome."

They turned to me and began to study me. They regarded me with questioning eyes. I grew uncomfortable. Both from the fear and the stares.

Finally, Tanner asked, "How's Kate doing?"

"You... you know Detective Beckett?"

He grinned, "She didn't always used to be a detective. She used to be just Kate to me and my siblings. My mom and her mom used to be good friends."

"Huh?"

"That's right," he nodded, "My name isn't 'Jake Tanner'. It's Jon Trevodur. My... I wouldn't call them 'friends', more like 'colleagues who don't try to kill me on a regular basis' call me Trev. Like him," he gestured at Patriks.

"I try to kill him on an irregular basis," he grunted.

"I wish that were a joke," Trev admitted.

"You do the same to me," Patriks argued.

"He put sugar instead of cream in my coffee!" he argued.

"And you tried to kill the kid by stabbing him in the kidneys!"

"I don't 'try' with that kind of thing," Trev shot back, "I 'do' that kind of thing."

"I distinctly remember him living after the incident."

"One time!"

I asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Some kid put sugar instead of cream in his coffee and Trev here decided the boy needed to die," Patriks explained.

"He was so lucky Booth and Patriks were there."

"Are you crazy?" I asked. They did seem like they were not going to hurt me. In fact, they seemed like a couple of twin brothers arguing at the dinner table.

"A little bit," Trev admitted.

"It comes and goes," offered Patriks.

The translated version of it, from top to bottom is:

TREV"How did he surprise you?"

PATRIKS"He used a blade with a X on it."

Trev "HUH?"

Patriks "No need to shout."

Trev "Sorry."

Patriks in Greek "You are Forgiven."

Trev then says something a parent would not want their child to repeat.

"Poco Lexi" is Spanish for "Little Lexi."

Patriks says in Spanish "Me? You are the one who abducted her!"

Patriks "What is the plan?"

"Kate y Castle" means "Kate and Castle."

Patriks "You think you can wound Bouren before he gets to them?"

Trev "Is a eighty year old prostitute easy?"

Patriks, "Thank you for that lovely image."

Thank you for the reviews! And it is not a low blow. I work hard on my fanfics. So I would like sort sort of payment. Think of it as a magazine subscription.

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