AN: So suddenly a lot of things are going on, I, got a job...in Edinburgh, Scotland. Got the job this Wednesday, start coming Monday, moving tomorrow. This might cause a further delay in my coming updates so I just wanted to assure you, my lovely people, that I have not given up on this story. So I give you part 1 of ch 13. I hope you will enjoy it even though it's incomplete.

For Maya and KevinxoShelley, again thank you for your support, to everyone, reading, reviewing, adding to favorites and alerts, you all mean the world to me.

Please enjoy and wish me luck.

Firefly - Chapter thirteen part 1

Well, I didn't see this coming. Guess that's what they call a rookie c'mon, the man was hiding in a closet. A closet! Who does that these days? Well…anyway.

"Back out! Now! Back out and close the door! I'll do it!" Wordys expression would have, in any other situation, been hilarious. But shock soon gave way for grim realization. "Now!"

I'm usually fairly fond of knifes, but I would prefer to not have them pointed at my person. Or at my throat as it were. Dammit. "Wordy." And my voice might have trembled a little, don't judge. "It's fine, do what he says." I could have tried to break free, but this was not a bar fight, this was not a "get your throat cut breaking free or get it cut anyway" situation. I was not an actual target. My best bet was talking and letting the team do their job. "Okay, let's just take it easy. I'm leaving." Wordys hands are held up in a soothing gesture, voice calm. Our eyes meet just before the door closes. Be careful.

Copy that.

"Lock it! Lock the door!" I'm pushed forward until I can reach the lock, the man at my back, kitchen knife at my throat and Gregs voice in my ear. "Stay calm Chris, do as he says and no sudden moves, keep him talking. We'll get you out, okay." Okay? "Yeah, okay." I feel the first weight settle low in my abdomen as I turn the key, my almost exhaled words taken as acceptance by the subject and affirmation by the team.

This is kinda bad, isn't it…

Been worse.

Yeah, well. Different rules back then.

Bloody pessimist.

Always. Thank you.

"Now put your guns on the floor!" He eases the pressure at my neck, allowing for movement without cutting myself. I move slowly, detaching the straps holding the semi-automatic and lowering it to the floor, the pistol follows as well as the two knifes I wear. Don't want him to find them on me later. Also discarding them without being told might instil some level of trust, that I am not a threat, at least that's what I hope for as I slowly return my hands to their previous position. Held empty in the air next to my head in a pacifying gesture. "There, I'm unarmed. Let's just take it real easy, okay?" I stand still as the man moves around me, exchanging his knife for my pistol, and isn't that just great. "Go sit in the chair…please."

Please?

Keeping my eyes on the aggravated man I sink myself into the soft office chair, he is scared, close to desperate, but the man in front of me does not go hand in hand with the domestic abuse report we got. The longer I look, the less of the supposedly aggressive husband do I see.

"Erik Green, 28, married to Clarisse Green, 37. She was his teacher, they married the year he turned 18. Caused a big ruckus with the PTA and the like." I listen closely, following Erik with my eyes as he paces back and forth in the small office. "There have been a couple of calls over the years and he filed a request for divorce three years ago, but withdrew it after just two months. Been quiet since." Scarlatti finishes his report and I nod my head even though I know they can't see me. Things are getting fishy, again.

"Listen, Erik, may I call you Erik? My name is Christina Terrano. Why don't you sit down on the couch, it's okay, you're the one in control here." He spins, waving my gun in the air as if to tell me that, yes, he's the one in control. "You have a radio right? Take it off."

I watch the way he wields the weapon, he has obviously no idea how to use it, but in these close quarters it doesn't really matter. "That's not a good idea Erik." Use his name, create a connection. "My team will get really nervous if they don't know if I'm alright." Humanize yourself. "But we can just sit here and talk for a while-"

"No!" He spins and I find myself staring up the muzzle of my own gun, I freeze, hands turning to fists and my heart make a painful stutter in my chest because no one can miss when standing this close. "She'll hear, take it off! Turn it off!" His voice is loud, angry, but behind the rage lays a fear that goes deeper than the one caused by taking a cop hostage. Injured and broken, backed into a corner and I know the feeling all too well. "Okay, I'll take it off, just take a step back okay." To my surprise he does, lowering the gun towards the floor, eyes wide and relived.

"Be careful kid." Eds firm voice is the last thing I hear before the line goes dead and I force myself to take a deep breath.

Figures I'm the hostage in my first hostage negotiation.