Author's Note: I'd like to thank phnxgrl, southerngirl1, MaineCastle, TORONTOSUN and Chkgun93 for their reviews. This chapter is still in Alex's POV at the beginning. Enjoy!

Chapter 22

Alex was pacing again. Sloan had left more than twenty-four hours ago. Alex stopped by the phone and checked the time again. It was 8:07pm, which meant that he had now been gone for thirty-two hours and counting. She knew he still had a few more hours before he had to call, but she was on pins and needles waiting for the call that would sooth her troubled soul. She'd never been particularly religious, being an assassin kind of made having any sort of religion comical, but she was praying to whichever deity might be real that her partner and fiancé would be fine and call soon to let her know that. Alex made another pass through the living room and stopped near the phone again; 8:09. She was going to drive herself crazy in the next few hours.

"Come on, Sloan, where are you?"

Alex tried sitting in front of the TV and watching a show, but within a few minutes, she was up and pacing again. Another check of the phone showed that it was only 8:23. Where is he? She went to the kitchen and searched for something to clean. The kitchen was spotless, not that she shouldn't have expected that. She'd been cleaning various parts of the safe house all day. If the cops came now, they'd have a hard time finding prints and DNA. She returned to the table and checked the phone again; 8:30. She groaned in frustration and did a few more passes of the living room.

"Come on, come on, come on. Where are you?" She checked the phone yet again; 8:36. "Come on, Sloan. Just call me. Let me know you're okay. That's all I need."

She shut off the annoying comedy show and resumed pacing. Almost thirty-three hours without a peep. Worry was gnawing at the pit in her stomach. She returned to the kitchen and grabbed a stick of cheese from the fridge. She hadn't really eaten much in the way of real food today. She had mostly been snacking on random things in the cupboards or fridge when she was really nervous or feeling worried. Alex finished the cheese and threw away the wrapper before returning to the phone; 8:41.

Alex ran a hand through her hair. "Sloan, please. Call me. Where are you?"

She could feel tears building in her eyes again. She'd never been this worried before. A memory from her early teen years bloomed in the front of her mind. Rathborne had taken her to the woods near their Los Angeles home, which meant they had traveled to the foothills and mountains of Southern California. He had been teaching her about guns that day, still under the guise of ensuring she would not be ignorant of the way other people were in the world. She was only thirteen, so he hadn't yet started teaching her how to kill. They were packing up to return home when she mentioned that she liked a cute boy in her class at school. The look on his face as he turned to her had scared her. "Don't even think about getting attached to anyone. Ever. It just leaves your heart open to getting hurt. And I can't afford you getting your heart hurt. Not if you're going to join me in my line of work." Until today, she hadn't truly understood why he'd said that. She checked the phone again; 8:52.

She paced from the table toward the front door, each pass getting a little longer than the last one. At the couch, she stopped and leaned against it. Earlier in the day, she'd checked out the phone Sloan had given her. It had gone straight to a home screen without asking for a password. What is "furtive" for? She'd then checked the call history. As far as she could tell, this phone had never made a single call, and there was no way to call Sloan because he had either forgotten to program a number in, or he hadn't programed one in on purpose. She made her way back to the phone; 8:55. She groaned again and resumed pacing. When she got close to the door, she turned and stared at the phone, willing it to ring. She stood for a few moments, hands on her hips, just worriedly glaring at the stubborn, uncooperative phone. She had taken two steps from the door when all hell broke loose.

The door exploded inward as someone from the outside kicked it in. Alex spun, reacting to the situation without really thinking about her actions. Her right arm blocked the first assault, swinging upward and knocking the attacker's left arm aside. Her attacker pulled his left arm back and tried again, which was blocked again, this time by her left. The masked man tried lashing out with his right, driving her back even as she brought her right arm around to block it from above. Alex tried to go on the offensive by lashing out with her right using a backhanded blow, but the attacker blocked it with his right while simultaneously reaching out with his left to plunge a needle into her neck.

The force of the blow to her neck drove Alex backwards into a wall and her attacker pinned her to it, pushing down on the syringe and emptying the contents into her body. Blackness claimed the edges of Alex's vision and her limbs went limp. Breathing became difficult. Slowly, Alex's eyelids fluttered closed and she slumped to the floor, unconscious.

The masked man took off one of his gloves and felt for her pulse. Steady, good. He whistled and three more men entered the apartment, followed by an older man dressed in a pale three-piece suit. The man in the suit surveyed the surroundings while two of the men tied Alex up and stuffed her body into a large, rigid-shell suitcase. The other two went through the apartment living room, knocking things around to make it look like the place had been tossed. The Gentleman eventually lifted his hand, signaling that the damage was enough. Without a word, the group left, leaving the apartment door slightly ajar.

Several hours later…

Beckett and Castle stepped into the apartment to see a frenzy of activity. CSU was crawling all over the scene, dusting every surface, checking every nook and cranny, bagging whatever they thought might lend a clue. Tory was busy at the computer, which was a massive setup. Six screens, two keyboards, two mice, plus a massive server against the wall behind the screens. She looked frustrated, most likely because nothing she was doing was getting past the firewall. Beckett pulled on a pair of gloves and walked toward the detective in charge. He turned as though he sensed her approach and quickly excused himself from the CSU team leader.

"Detective, welcome. I'm James Grissom from Robbery. I called as soon as the result came in."

"You're sure it belongs to Alex Stevens?"

"Oh yeah." He gestured and a tech brought over a scanner. "This is what we used to read the print and the print was right over here." He brought them over to the kitchen counter where a marker was positioned next to a print. "That's her print all right."

"What happened here?"

"Neighbor called in the open door. She said she saw that the door was open and went to check, which is when she saw that the room had been tossed."

Beckett was looking around. "This doesn't seem right."

"What?"

Castle turned to Grissom. "The first time we were in Stevens's apartment, everything was in order. This much disarray is unusual for the Shadow Fox."

Grissom shook his head. "I doubt this is Stevens's apartment. I usually see this sort of thing with B&Es. My guess is she tossed the place looking for something. We're trying to track down the owner, a Jessica Wright. Landlord didn't have an I.D. on file and didn't recognize Stevens's mug."

"Have you run the name yet?"

"I haven't. My partner's at the station right now; he should have something…" Grissom's ringing phone interrupted his thought, "speak of the devil. Vince, what'd you find? Send the photo." He took the phone from his ear and accessed the photo his partner sent. "Well, I'll be."

Beckett took a look. "Jessica Wright is just one of her aliases. I'm going to assume that she's not the person who ransacked the place. She was living here."

Grissom ended the call and put his phone away. "I guess that would explain why there haven't been that many prints. She must clean regularly to leave as little of a trace as possible."

Beckett nodded. "She's a pro. And right now, I'd say she's probably in danger."

Grissom looked confused. "What makes you say that?"

Beckett pointed to an evidence tube that was being carried toward the door. "That is her weapon of choice. Even if she left in a hurry, she would take that with her so she could defend herself. I don't think she left under her own power."

Meanwhile…

Alex woke up with a splitting headache. She tried to sit up, but her limbs felt shaky, like she was suffering from a really bad fever. She opened her eyes and found that her vision was blurry; blinking a few times seemed to help clear that though. She looked around the room. Everything was off-white and there was virtually nothing in the room. She was lying on the floor, which was a pale grey color. She shook her head, trying to clear it and remember what had happened. Slowly, she sat up, her weakened limbs protesting her every move. She leaned back against the wall, waiting for something to happen.

Alex was just beginning to wonder why she had been imprisoned here when the door opened and two big men walked in. They came straight towards her and grabbed her arms, ignoring her struggling and shoving a bag over her head before they hauled her from the room. Realizing that she wasn't going to break away from their grip, she struggled enough to get her feet under her and started blindly following until they brought her to wherever it was they were bringing her. For a couple moments, she just stood between the two behemoths until the one on her right kicked her knee. She was forced to her knees and then roughly pulled into a more upright position; a box or something similar was digging into her shoulder blades. Finally, the bag was removed from her head and she found herself in what looked to be an abandoned warehouse.

Standing in front of her, wearing his customary three-piece suit, was The Gentleman. "Hello, Alex. It's been a while."

"What do you want?"

"You haven't completed the contract yet."

"I still have another week."

The Gentleman shook his head. "Not anymore. I noticed that you told your boyfriend to get out of town. I imagine that was a sad attempt at protecting him."

Fear gripped Alex's heart. "I was sending him to set up a few new safe houses. I wanted to have a couple outside the city."

"Besides having the one in Connecticut?"

Alex was defiant. "Yes. Besides that one. It would have been a waste of time for me to set it up because I'm trying to complete my contract."

"Which, if memory serves, I have given you more than enough time to complete."

Alex just glared at him. "Having one of your men kill her father hasn't exactly made getting close to her very easy. She's been on high alert ever since."

The Gentleman leaned in close. "What if I said I didn't believe you?"

"I don't really care what you believe. It's the truth."

"Hmm…" The Gentleman straightened up. "That's not what he said."

Alex whipped her head around toward the sound of another door opening. Two more masked behemoths came through the door, dragging Sloan between them. Alex gasped and started struggling, trying to get away from her captors, but they only tightened their grip. Sloan was forced to his knees about 40 feet in front of Alex before the bag was removed from his head. His face was covered in bruises and small cuts. His hands were cuffed in front of him and the way he was almost doubling over said his abs were hurting as well.

"Please, let him go. I'll do it. I'll find a way to kill Beckett, just give me a little more time."

The Gentleman smirked at her begging. "If you had truly valued his life, you would have done it a long time ago."

Alex yanked her arms again to no avail. "I'm telling you, she's smarter than most cops! She's a tough target to get to. But I can do it. Just give me more time!"

"Time is something you've run out of."

He signaled and another man entered the room. He wasn't wearing a mask, but he was carrying a knife. A knife she recognized from years of training with Rathborne; an SOG Military Combat Knife. Alex struggled harder and the men yanked her back, smacking the back of her head against the tool chest behind her. She went limp, pretending that the blow had knocked the fight out of her. In reality, she was waiting for them to loosen their grip on her arms.

The Gentleman made an impatient noise. "Don't do that, she won't be able to watch." He strode over to her and roughly took her face in his hands, tilting her head back to look at her. She concentrated on staying limp, making sure that her eyes didn't focus on anything too long. He seemed to believe her illusion and stood up, striding away. "I guess we don't have a choice. Time has run out. Locken, whenever you're ready."

The men standing on each side of her relaxed their grip, excited to see the execution. At that moment, Alex reacted, yanking her arms, and struggling to rise to her feet in the same motion. The goon on her right almost lost his grip on her, but despite timing her actions perfectly, they still managed to hold onto her. Locken swung his arm and drove the knife into Sloan's back. A strangled cry escaped from his lips with the pain and Alex screamed his name, still fighting to break free from her captors even though she knew it was too late. Locken stabbed again and Alex simply screamed, the almost inhuman sound of rage making even the goons afraid of her. The Gentleman just watched her fight, a look of amusement splashed across his face at the sight of Alex's agony.

Sloan slumped to the ground, moaning in anguish, and breathing heavily. Alex stopped fighting and sagged between her captors, silent sobs racking her body. Her hair was in disarray and covered her face, hiding her tears from the occupants of the room. The Gentleman nodded and the men released her arms at last. Alex landed heavily on her hands and dropped to her elbows, still sobbing as she heard Sloan take one last shuttering breath. That breath broke her, and she felt anger begin to collect in her chest.

The Gentleman squatted down by her side. "Now you know what happens…"

Alex lunged at him, her face no longer a mask of sorrow. Rage and hatred covered her features as her hands reached out to strangle the man who had ordered the death of her fiancé. She wanted to kill him, destroy him for taking the one thing she truly loved in this world from her. It didn't matter that she wouldn't live to talk about it, or that she would probably fail in the first place. All that mattered was that he would get a taste of what absolute despair felt like.

It was revenge she didn't get to have. Before her hands could find their target, the butt of a gun connected with the back of her head and Alex was knocked out.

The Gentleman straightened out his suit as he stood. "Leave the body. And call it in. Alex will be arrested for his death and we can get on with my plans." Locken bent to pull the knife out of Sloan's body. "Leave it. I want that to be the image the cops see. Her partner: literally stabbed in the back. It's poetic."

A/N: From the comments for the last chapter, I know I just disappointed a few readers. I'm sorry for killing Sloan, but it does influence events in the upcoming chapters and "episodes". What happens next? Leave a review with your guess.