All Disclaimers Apply

Chris waited until the three men had reached the exit before giving his attention to the injured man at his side. "Hang in there, cowboy." Vin's eyes fluttered open long enough to relay the undying trust of his life to his best friend, before giving into the black once more. Larabee squeezed the hand he had retaken then let his eyes fall on the hazel ones of the youngest. He winked quickly at the boy, then nodded his head to the remaining men of his team, hoping this wasn't the last time he saw them.

The leader followed the rest of the medical group out the door but paused once they got to a safe distance. He looked to the young man beside him as he clutched the medallion in his hand. "I guess we go to plan B."

Mackalister nodded and hurried after Larabee.

***************

The noon day sun was slowing sliding into the afternoon, casting a shadowy image over the downtown patrons. Three men, one in SWAT attire affixed with all the necessary accessories and two in suits showing lack of use, seemed almost transfixed by the sight as they stood looking upwards at one building in particular. The black- glassed skyscraper was over 60 stories high and illuminated power with just its height, but what was most amazing was the golden letters shining above them, Mackalister Industries, Inc.

"So, your old man is Davis Mackalister." Josiah blinked against the monstrous glare and turned his attention to Ethan.

"Yep, in all his glory." The officer tried to hide the disgust in his voice, but from the twin looks he just received, knew he had failed.

"Do you think he'll help us?" Chris didn't like going into a hopeless situation and from the tone of the younger man, he and his father weren't exactly Andy and Opie Taylor.

"He'll help, if I give him the right motivation." Mackalister smiled slightly and then stepped toward the swinging doors. "Come on, lets get this over with."

They headed into the vast circle that housed the reception area and stopped at the desk. The security guard glanced up and swallowed hard at the intense features before him.

"Can I help..." The guard cut off his sentence as he locked eyes with a familiar face. "Mr. Ethan, nice to see you again." The older man stood quickly and offered his hand to Mackalister.

"Hank. I need to see my father." The SWAT officer was never big on pleasantries, even less so now.

The man reached under his desk and extracted a key-chain of gold with what looked to be a special cut key hanging from it. "Here ya go," before the words were completely out of the man's mouth, the three peacemakers were halfway to the elevator.

They stopped long enough to allow a minimal entrance to the car open before entering it. Ethan placed the access key required for the penthouse office in the slot and stepped back to watch the methodical click of each floor. Neither of the three men moved or spoke as they road to the 63rd floor, having too much on their minds. As the clang of the bell announced their arrival, the three men were once more in motion.

Mackalister saw the startled gaze of the secretary quickly turn to fear as she jumped from her chair to intercept the group. "You can't go in there." She placed her small frame in front of Ethan and tried to exude some authority but as the young man swiftly pushed her aside, realized another tactic was needed. "I'm calling security." She reached behind her desk and punched in the numbers, flinching slightly as the bang of the conference room doors being opened assaulted her ears.

The DPD sniper never wavered from his objective as he shoved first the receptionist then the double doors out of his way. He gave the room of occupants a once over before his eyes fell on the 65 inch monitor that showed a gray-haired man in an Armani suit. "We need to talk."

The room had fallen deathly quiet as each member of the net-meeting gave the intruders startled glares. One man started to get up but the cultured voice of Davis Mackalister stopped him mid-stand.

"That's all right, Jason." Davis waited until his right hand man retook his seat before continuing. "Gentlemen, I apologize for this interruption, but it seems my son and his friends require my attention. If you will adjourn to the other room, we will continue this meeting as soon as I'm finished here." Mackalister never let his eyes leave the face of his son as the men quickly exited, all but Jason, but before he could ask a question, Ethan spoke.

"I need 5 million dollars and the chopper." The younger Mackalister eased his stance somewhat as he watched his father's face that was being broadcast into the room from Japan, where he was currently on business.

"Nice to see you too, son." Some annoyance crept into the man's voice but he quickly curbed it as his eyes trailed to the blond man beside Ethan. "I do apologize for my son's lack of manners, he was not raised this way. May I ask who you are?"

Larabee had met many powerful men in his life, most he put behind bars, but there was something about this one that made him more dangerous than the criminals Team 7 chased daily. "Chris Larabee, ATF. Your son and I are working on a hostage situation." Chris stepped forward slightly to get a closer look at the man.

"Ah, so that would explain the demands, although I don't understand why I am needed to foot the bill, so to speak." Davis gave Larabee an intense scrutiny, impressed by what he saw. He knew of the man's reputation and now knew why he was so highly regarded.

"I'm afraid we have exhausted all our means, Mr. Mackalister and you seemed a likely choice." Chris glanced first at Josiah, who was smirking slightly at the exchange, and then at Ethan, who still stared at his father's reflection as if the hard, green eyes piercing through the screen held him in a trance.

Mackalister sighed. "I'm sorry you wasted your time Mr. Larabee, but my son should have told you I don't waste money on lost causes." He turned slowly toward Jason and started to speak, when Ethan's voice stopped him.

"Since when is people's lives lost causes, especially the ones who are your own flesh and blood." He locked gazes with his father once more, trying to expel the nervousness that would always grip him when he came in contact with the billionaire. "But Tray was never one of your favorites anyway."

"What does Trayven have to do with this?" Mackalister felt his temper rise slowly.

"Your son is one of the hostages." Larabee could tell that the father and son were about to hit a boiling point and needed to put a lid on this situation quick. "That's why we're here. The FBI are unable to get their hands on any of the requested items and aren't apparently that concerned about it."

Davis gave himself a few moments to let the news sink in, along with getting his anger under control. "As much as I understand your situation, Mr. Larabee, I still am not going to risk my assets. My sons knew their risks when they accepted such dangerous jobs and I can't come to their rescue every time one of them gets into trouble. I am truly sorry." The older man attempted to turn to Jason once more but Ethan's words cut him like ice.

"How do you expect to tell Zeke you killed his older brother?" The voice was low and menacing.

Davis actually flinched. He kept his eyes cast downward as he contemplated the new challenge. Slowly his gaze finally fell on his assistant. "Jason, have the helicopter prepared and have Lois put what cash we have on hand in a briefcase." As he followed Jason's departure, he turned to his guests once more. "I can have the rest of the money you need deposited into a Swiss account." He looked first at Larabee, then Sanchez, and finally stopped on Ethan. "Satisfied?"

The younger Mackalister nodded an affirmative and sighed as his father cut the connection of the vid phone from Japan. "That went better than I expected." Ethan walked further into the now empty room and came to a stop behind the huge mahagony desk.

"Nice family you got there, Mackalister." Chris crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head slightly.

"Yeah, a real 'Leave it to Beaver' quality." Ethan snorted in reply.

"So who's Zeke?" Josiah broke out of his silent countenance and went to join the SWAT member.

Ethan frowned briefly, then reached over and picked up a photo that was sitting on the desk. He turned it toward the two men, revealing a young man in his teens sitting on a boat. The boy had sandy colored hair and sparkling blue eyes. "This is Zeke, my younger brother. Davis's last hope as heir to the empire." Mackalister chuckled softly. "Little does my father know that baby brother has other plans."

Before the two ATF agents had a chance to delve further into the family mysteries, Jason came back into the room carrying an alligator skinned briefcase. He handed the satchel to Ethan and spoke quietly.

"There's one million in big bills. The chopper is warmed up and waiting. The pilot is to follow your orders." The tall, lanky man of about 45 couldn't stop the sigh that escaped his lips.

"Don't worry, Jason. We'll try and bring everything back, including Tray." Ethan patted the man on the shoulder as he followed the retreating agents from the office and into the hallway.

"Which way?" Chris paused to glance at Mackalister.

"There's a set of stairs that lead to the heli-pad around the next corner. As soon as we get up there, I'll have the pilot tell Josiah the basics about the chopper and then we can get the hell out of here." The three men exchanged determined looks and then took off to the next step in getting this day to end happily.

*************

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway as the two solemn men made their way to the interrogation room. If no one had been the wiser, their first thoughts at the sight was these two were destined for the death chamber, but at further scrutiny it was obvious they were the grim reapers.

"How do you want to play this?" Ethan paused outside the huge metal door and gave his companion a hard stare.

"Bad cop, worse cop." A smirk came upon Larabee's features as he thought about what they were about to do. "And I, of course, am the worse cop."

Mackalister chuckled. "Well, you do have more experience."

Chris eyed the young man suspiciously, knowing he had just been insulted but figured he let it slide this once. "Shall we?" The leader pushed the door open and motioned Ethan inside.

Malcolm Freeman sat ramrod straight with a look akin to glee on his face. "Gentlemen, what a pleasure."

Larabee began counting backwards from a 100 hoping the murderous rage he was experiencing would subside. He gave a quick glance to his partner and saw he was attempting the same thing. "Sorry to disappoint you Freeman, but this isn't a social call."

"Let me guess. This is about that unfortunate incident across the street. Its a shame how a person can't even feel safe going out to lunch nowadays." Malcom's smile grew wider if possible.

"Listen up scum, you may think you have a chance but guess what, no dice." Ethan leaned onto the table top. "We plan on taking out every one of your 'boys' and if we're lucky, we can see you in the gas chamber."

Freeman just shrugged at the young man's tirade. He'd heard all this garbage a hundred times from as many different peace officers. What he wanted to hear now was the plea for his help. "Give it up pretty boy. I know my men and they've got you by the balls or else you wouldn't be here. So, let's cut the small talk and get down to business." Malcolm eased himself back in the chair and turned his full attention to the blond man with the stone face.

"How much do you love your father?" Chris knew from the sudden flinch of Freeman's that it wasn't the comment he was expecting.

"What the hell does my father have to do with this?" Malcolm started to lunge from the chair but Mackalister's firm grip on his shoulder changed his mind.

"Apparently, your 'men', took more than officers and federal employees hostage. Seems a Lawrence Freeman was listed alongside the others." Larabee leaned in until he was almost nose to nose with the criminal. "Now, nobody knows your followers like you do, so you tell me what your father's chances are and I'll tell you what he has to do with this."

Freeman felt himself slipping from the hate-filled cop killer to that of a scared son. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" He glanced from one hard glare to another. Larabee had expected this reaction, so he casually reached into his duster pocket and then tossed the object he had extracted onto the table.

The medallion slid to a stop in front of Freeman. He picked it up slowly giving it close scrutiny. It was the medal of the patron saint of healing, St. Brigid. He had given his father one just like it years ago. He turned the coin over and saw the initials LF engraved on the back and knew it was true.

"Why else do you think I would waste my time with you, Malcom?" Chris straightened to his full height once more. "I figured that maybe there was actually a heart in that chest of yours and you would want to try and save at least one person." Larabee stepped back to lean against the wall hoping that he hadn't gambled wrong.

Malcom roughly shoved Ethan's hand off his shoulder and propped his head in his hands. His father had been the one thing that he could always count on in his life. "What's in it for me?" Freeman also wasn't a stupid man.

"Life instead of death. The DA has agreed to reduce sentence to life imprisonment if you help us." At least Chris hoped he would, considering he hadn't had time to actually discuss it with the man.

"What do I have to do?" Freeman knew this man in front of him and life imprisonment would be a walk in the park compared to what would happen if he didn't agree to help.

"Call Quinn and tell him the deal is done. You'll be waiting in the chopper on top of the federal building and then me and my associate will be waiting with 1 million in cash and the code for the other 4 million in the Swiss account." Chris didn't dare breathe as he watched Freeman.

"All right. It's a deal."

Ethan and Larabee both let out the breath they had been holding, knowing they were a step closer to ending this nightmare.

*****************

The shrill ringing of the telephone made the hostages and terrorists jump slightly. Quinn quickly grabbed the infernal nuisance before it had a chance to ring again.

"Yeah?"

"Josh? That you?" Malcolm cleared his throat as he spoke.

"Mal, you old dog. I knew this would work." Quinn turned to his friends and gave them a thumbs up. "So, what's goin' down?"

"They've got the money and the chopper. I'll be waiting inside the helicopter and two of their goons
will be there with the money and the code to get the rest." Freeman paused, letting the whoops die  down before continuing. "But there is one thing, Josh." The gunman waited for his leader to continue. "Let my father go."

Quinn somehow knew this would be part of the deal. "Don't you want to bring him with us, man?"

Malcom felt his anger rising. "NO, I DON'T! Listen Josh, I'm still in charge even if I've taken a slight
detour to the barred tavern. So, don't question me and just do as I say. Got it?"

Josh had only been at the receiving end of Malcom's wrath once and still sported the scars on his back, so he immediately succumbed. "Yes sir. Anything else you want us to do?" A slight quiver had surfaced in the man's speech.

"No, the rest is up to you. Don't disappoint me, Quinn." Freeman slammed the phone down and Josh stared at the dead silence for a few moments.

"Quinn, what's up?" One of the blond henchmen stepped forward a little unsure of what to do.

"Its done, man. We won." Quinn threw the phone down and yelped happily. "Mal's gonna be waiting on us in the chopper along with the money. Now," Josh turned to two of the other henchmen. "You boys know what to do. If you notice anything wrong or don't hear from us on time, then finish it."

The men nodded their heads in understanding as they checked their weapons.

"As for the rest of us, let's get ready for travel." Josh smiled menacingly as his gaze fell on the seven
men still outside the storage room. "Alright boys, its time to say bye-bye." Quinn chuckled lightly at the glares that were being thrown his way. "What? I thought you fellas were gung ho to get out of here, now I see defiance against the very notion." He walked over to stand next to the two injured men. "But I'm afraid that your two friends here will be staying behind to keep Billy and Meyers company. However, I do have good news for you Mr. Freeman. You get to leave now."

"I'm not leaving without them." Lawrence motioned to JD and Vin.

"Sorry, sir, but this isn't debatable." Quinn gave his head a slight twist indicating for Billy to help Mr.
Freeman with his exit. "I've got my orders and you've got yours." Josh patted the now standing Lawrence and then shoved him hard toward the door.

Freeman gave the six men a regretful gaze as he slowly opened the door. He heard the shouts, the movement, but was absent to it all as he felt a feeling settle in the pit of his stomach. The sense of dread of never seeing any of those men alive again.

The gunmen watched the door slide shut once more. Josh cocked his semi-automatic and stared menacingly at the officers at his feet. "Now, lets move." He grabbed Ezra by the collar and jerked him upright.

"If you don't mind, I can get up on my own." Standish steadied himself, then straightened his Armani jacket. He turned from his captor to give his partners a last look. "I will see you soon, Mr. Tanner," he swiveled his head toward JD. "And you Mr. Dunne."

"You can bet on it, Ez." The kid tried to give the southerner a reassuring smile but the laugh from Billy caused it to waver.

"Yeah, you'll see each other in Hell."

"Then you promise to hold our places until we arrive?" The undercover agent couldn't help the dig as he felt the adrenaline begin to pump through his veins once more.

The gunman swung his arm back preparing to hit the agent but Quinn put a hand on his arm. "There'll be time for fun later, right now, let's get the hell out of here."

Victor was roughly pulled to his feet and the captor was about to do the same to Mackalister when Boone stopped him. "I'll get him." The officer turned to help his partner but paused when he saw Tray lean toward Dunne.

"Hey kid," Mackalister waited for the young agent to break his gaze from Wilmington before he continued.

"Yeah?" JD's voice was weak.

"I just wanted to say what a pleasure it has been meeting you." Tray reached his hand out and patted the blanket covering Dunne. He slowly let the gun slip from his grasp to fall into the opening over JD's hand. The kid raised his eyebrows as he felt the familiar metal hit his flesh.

"What's this?" JD kept his voice to a whisper.

"I can't let anything happen to my two biggest fans, now can I?" Tray cocked an amused eyebrow at the young man before allowing Vic to pull him to his feet. He swayed slightly, but recovered enough to give the injured men a small salute.

Vin returned the gesture with a weak imitation of his slow grin before returning to the blackness that held the pain at bay. Buck had watched the exchange between the young men with heartache. There was no way he wanted to leave them here, knowing that they had no way of protecting each other.

JD sensed the turmoil going on inside his best friend and reached out a shaky hand to clasp the older man's arm. "Buck?"

Wilmington swung his gaze from Tanner's inert form to meet the hazel eyes. "Yeah kid?"

Dunne tried to put on his best smile. "Don't worry about us, Batman. Sidekicks have been known to take care of themselves once in a while." Buck couldn't keep the chuckle from surfacing at the very thought.

"Well, 'Boy Wonder', I guess I'll just have to rely on that this time, won't I?" Wilmington felt his voice
break and the tears threaten but tried to hide them.

"I know, Buck." JD also felt his throat clog as the emotion came rushing at him. "I'll be okay. We both
will."

Wilmington grasped the hand covering his arm and squeezed, but the contact was quickly broken as Buck was dragged to his feet.

"I really hate to break up such an emotional moment, but our chariot awaits." Quinn pushed the reluctant agent ahead of him as the gunmen and ablebodied hostages were escorted out the door.

JD slowly let his eyes drift close, knowing the worst was yet to come and if he or Vin were to have a
chance, he had to be ready.

*****************

"You think this is going to work?" Nathan glanced anxiously at Josiah. "One good look at me and Quinn is going to know I am not Malcom. He could easily kill the hostages."

Sanchez squeezed his friend's shoulder. "We only have to get them on the roof, Nate. This is going to work." Josiah glanced out the chopper window, "it has too."

Chris stepped further away from the helicopter, hoping to hear what was being said over the small headset that he was wearing.

"They just entered the federal building and are heading for the elevators." The excited voice of Jack Sloan crackled in Larabee's ear.

"Everyone hold your positions." Captain Santos told his team and then addressed Chris. "Larabee, we've got four approaching your location. They have Mackalister and Boone as well as your men, Standish and Wilmington."

"Damn." Larabee swore softly, but his voice still carried over the mouthpiece.

"You knew they wouldn't come empty- handed."

Larabee nodded at the captain's words even though the man had no way of seeing him from his position inside the building. "Right." Chris finally replied, giving a thumbs up sign to Josiah, who was watching him from the cockpit. "We're ready whenever you are."

"We'll be here when you give the signal." Santos assured.

Larabee glanced across the way to where Ethan was standing with the black briefcase full of money. "If something goes wrong, just make sure you get those hostages out. Don't worry about us."

"Roger that. They get top priority."

Chris pulled the small communicating device from his head and tucked it into the pocket of his black duster as he quickly made his way toward Ethan. "They're on their way." The ATF agent practically had to shout to be heard over the rotors that were whipping a rough wind around the two men.

"And?" Ethan had been in enough situations to know when bad news was coming.

"They have four hostages with them."

Ethan nodded. The gust of air assualting them pushed his dark hair across his face, camouflaging the concerned look Chris knew was there. "That complicates things."

Larabee's face stayed grim, his dark sunglasses hiding the worry mirrored in his own eyes. "We'll work around it."

Ethan didn't reply, and Chris nodded to the young man's side where he had seen him holster his weapon. "Are you as good as Santos said?"

The SWAT team captain had found it necessary to inform Chris that he was trusting him with the best sharpshooter he had, the best he'd ever seen in fact. But Chris found that debatable seeing as how the captain had never seen Vin shoot.

Mackalister nodded again. "But I've never been in 'this' situation before."

Chris understood what the younger man was saying, he didn't know if he could take the shot if it were his brother's life hanging in the balance. There was a reason the department frowned on relatives working together. For a moment, Larabee envied his innocense. He himself felt like an expert in the field, watching his family be placed in danger on a daily basis. "You'll do what you have to, trust me."

Before Ethan could reply, both mens' attention was drawn to a door about 100 yards in front of them. Josh Quinn exited first, dragging a very reluctant Ezra along with him. Buck and Boone followed, both were covered by two men with automatic weapons, and another henchmen brought up the rear shoving a limping Tray in front of him.

"Let's do this." Chris said loud enough for Ethan to hear, as they started toward the group of men. He knew they needed to keep the terrorists busy long enough for the SWAT team to get the rest of the hostages, but still keep them far enough away from Nate so that their ruse wouldn't be uncovered.

"That's far enough," Quinn shouted, pressing his gun firmly into Ezra's side. "Since when did the police send paramedics to do their dirty work." Josh gave the men a skeptical once over. He should have trusted his instincts about the blond man. "Deceitful tactics wasn't part of the deal."

Larabee shrugged. "You're a shrewd man, you know how the game's played. Besides, taking hostages with you wasn't part of the deal either." Chris's voice was calm as he motioned towards Ezra and the others with his chin. "Especially, the wounded ones."

Quinn quickly glanced over his shoulder to where Tray had fallen to his knees, clutching his side. The near-jog across the street and the trip to the top of the fed building hadn't done anything good to his condition.

A sadistic smile spread across the terrorist's face. "He insisted on coming along."

Ethan clenched his jaw and struggled with every instinct that he had, instincts that were screaming at him to go to his brother and of course to put a bullet right between Quinn's eyes. Fortunately, Larabee's cool demeanor kept him in check. The man was like ice.

"Well this is the end of the line for him and the rest of the hostages." Chris glanced to the briefcase Ethan was holding. "A million dollars now, the rest wired to your account, and Freeman, but they stay here."

Quinn shoved his gun harder against Standish, eliciting a slight gasp of pain from the southerner. "We ain't going without insurance. Who's to say you won't just take out the helicopter."

"One of our own men is flying it." Larabee willed himself to remain calm. "You really don't want to piss me off, Quinn. Let them go now and get the hell out of here."

"As you pointed out, I'm no fool. I know how the game is played, we're not going anywhere without an ace up our sleeve."

Ezra rolled his eyes at the choice of words and silently wondered why Chris just didn't shoot the bastard. He'd take his chances with getting caught in the crossfire just to be rid of the man.

However, before Larabee could do or say anything, the dark-haired man beside him spoke. "I'll go with you."

Team seven's leader shot a surprised glance at the SWAT officer but held the string of less than kind words that he wanted to let loose.

Ethan avoided the angry looks being thrown in his direction from both Larabee and Tray, choosing to glare at Quinn instead. "Take it or leave it but you're not getting off this building with those men."

Quinn laughed. "Why should I trade? What makes you so valuable?" The man looked at Ethan's SWAT uniform with a hint of disgust. "One pig is as good as another."

Ethan shrugged, and held up his arm that was holding the briefcase. For the first time, Chris noticed that the leather bag was 'handcuffed' to Mackalister's wrist. "It's a packaged deal, I go with the money. When we reach your destination, I'll give you the key and the pilot and I go free."

Chris bit his lower lip, this kid was gonna get one helluva ass- chewing when they got off this roof.

Ethan moved his eyes from Quinn to glance to where, thanks to Wilmington, Tray was now on his feet. He shared a momentary look with his brother, before turning back to Freeman's right-hand man. "And don't think about just killing me and taking the money. I'm the only one with the pass code for the Swiss account. I'm no fool either."

"Enough talk." Chris let his eye's lock with Quinn. "Let's get on with it or call it off. What's it going to be?"

Quinn thought for a moment and then shoved Ezra toward Larabee. "I'll take the wildcard. You never know what the ante may be."

"Shoot him, now." Ezra murmured as Chris steadied him.

To give Josh Quinn credit, he was fast. Before Chris could recover from catching Standish, the henchman had his gun trained on Ethan. "Keep them covered boys, until we reach the chopper." The tall blond stepped close enough to grab Ethan by the arm and turn him towards their escape vehicle. "Shall we?"

Buck tightened his grip on Tray, as he felt the younger man make a move forward. "Easy, champ." He whispered, sensing they were about to find out the very bad plan that he was sure his boss had somehow talked the brass in to.

Before Buck could think anymore on the subject, the man that had been standing next to he and Tray, dropped to the ground in a heap. If not for the splatter of blood Buck had felt across his cheek, he'd never had known that the man had taken a direct hit from a perfectly aimed sniper's bullet. "SHIT!"

If not for the clatter of the gun hitting the concrete that they were standing on and the shout from the other side of the rooftop, the plan might have worked.

No one had counted on the fifth man already planted on the roof. Apparently, Quinn was smarter than he looked.

"JOSH, BEHIND YOU!"

From that moment, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Nathan and Josiah saw the threads of their scheme unravelling before their very eyes and decided it was time to try and salvage whatever they could. Jackson slid the chopper door open and dropped to the ground in a roll, pulling his gun as he did so. With one shot, he took out the man who had thrown a wrench in their plan and then whirled to cover Quinn.

Unfortunately, Ethan and the henchman were already in a battle of their own over Quinn's weapon. There was no way for the ex-medic to get a clear shot without the possibility of hitting the SWAT officer.

He also had another problem.

The other two members of Freeman's gang had also realized that 'their' plans had gone sour. They had taken on the roll of cornered animals choosing to attack rather then be captured. Nathan realized the danger his friends' were in at the same time that Josiah rounded the chopper.

"Buck, Ezra, get the hell out of there." Sanchez yelled, trying to get a bead on one of the men now running toward the exit. The terrorist was laying down a constant stream of gunfire as he ran. Buck had no problem making for the only cover he could see, a tall piece of ventilation pipe jutting from the roof's surface.

It was getting Tray to move that was difficult. Mackalister's eyes were transfixed on the battle between his brother and Quinn. Wilmington was sure that the young detective would have already made a break for the skirmish if he hadn't have maintained his vice-like grip. "Come on." Wilmington jerked Tray towards their only refuge as he felt the air off of a bullet as it whizzed past his ear. "Getting killed won't help him. Let Chris handle it."

Buck could already see that his oldest friend was on the move. Unfortunately, Ethan and Quinn had moved dangerously close to the edge of the roof. Larabee might have made it to them in time if the gun they were struggling over hadn't discharged.

Tray watched in horror as Ethan's body jerked backwards from the force of the bullet, sending him over the side. "ETHAN!"

Quinn wasn't in much better shape, since Mackalister had maintained a grip on him, he too tripped over the low wall.

When he had seen them fall, Chris knew he'd never make it in time. The drop was at least thirty stories and he couldn't recall if there was a ledge. Reaching the side, he hesitated, afraid of what he would find when he looked over.

Between the roar of the helicopter, the dwindling gunfire, and Tray Mackalister's shouts, he had almost not heard it. But once again, a plea for help wafted from below and Chris forced himself to lean over the edge.

Five feet beyond his reach, Ethan Mackalister hung precariously by one arm to a small outcropping of concrete. Even more amazing was the fact that Josh Quinn hang below him suspended from the briefcase that was still handcuffed to Mackalister's hand. Luckily,  the arm that the young officer was using to cling to the building wasn't the one he had been shot in, but Chris could tell his strength was waning.

"Hold on."

"I'm trying."

"Don't let me go, I don't want to die." Josh was struggling to keep a hold of the satchel. His movement was only working against both men, because of the agony he was inflicting on Ethan.

"I need help over here." Larabee yelled, as he raised up and glanced behind him. Josiah was busy restraining the gunman he had just taken out and Nathan had gone to assist Ezra and Boone, who were now laying in a tangled heap. Chris knew Jackson would take care of Standish if he was injured, right now his focus was needed here. Luckily, Buck and Tray were nearly upon him before his shouted plea was out of his mouth.

"Damn!" Buck swore, as he too leaned over the side.

"Oh God, Ethan!" Trayven already had one leg over the ledge before Chris grabbed him.

"Whoa, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"He's gonna fall."

"And you ain't?" Buck straightened up and began removing his belt.

Chris looked at his friend. "He can't grab that. I'm guessing his wrist is probably broken and with Quinn dangling from that briefcase, there's no way he'd have the strength."

"I'll get rid of Quinn." Tray picked up Josh's discarded gun and started to aim it over the side. He had no problem with murder when it came to his family.

"Damn, Mackalister." Chris grabbed the gun away from him. "Let's try it my way first."

"We're running out of time."

Buck shoved Tray out of the way. "So, shut up and let us work." He turned to Larabee, "you thinking what I'm thinking, pard?"

Chris nodded and allowed Buck to loop his belt through the back of his own belt, which would act as a safety harness as he was lowered.

"Help me please." Quinn's terror-filled voice urged them on and was followed by a cry of pain from Ethan.

"That does it." Tray leaned over the edge. "Stop moving you bastard or I'll will shoot you where you hang. I swear to God I will." He than glanced to Ethan. "Hang on, bro, help's on the way." The oldest Mackalister moved out of the way as Chris took his position and slid over head first to grab Ethan's hand.

Buck held on for dear life, not willing to explain to Vin or JD how he let Chris end up a permenant pothole on Main Street. As Larabee inched forward, he could now see that Ethan had only kept from falling because of a crevice, in which he had lodged his fingers. "I'm going to grab your wrist and then you can let go."

"I can't let go."

Chris looked confused. Mackalister's face was pale and covered in sweat. His eyes were squeezed shut and it was more than obvious that he was not in a comfortable position. "You have to let go son, before I can help you up."

"Help me." Quinn struggled again and Ethan couldn't help but to scream.

"I can't, I'll fall."

Chris knew they were in even more trouble now. "Don't tell me you're afraid of heights. You're a sniper for the SWAT team."

"Not heights.......just falling."

"Mackalister!" Larabee shouted, wanting to get Tray's attention. That was no problem, considering he had almost come over the side at Ethan's yell. "I need help. He won't let go."

"Shit!" Trayven hissed. His concerned green eyes pleaded with Wilmington. "He took a bad fall once when we were kids. He hates climbing."

"He doesn't have to climb, he just has to let go." Buck gave the detective a weary smile. "I've been around you long enough to know you have no problem talking, so make him listen to you."

"Ethan, damnit. You're really scaring the hell out of me here. Just do what Larabee says, so we can all go home." There was no response, so Tray tried again. "I'm not leaving without you. Do you understand me? If your not around, I don't have any place to go."

Chris already had a hold of Ethan's wrist and felt him loosen his fingers. "That's it kid. I won't let you fall."

It would have worked, things would have went as planned, if Quinn hadn't freaked. Not satisfied with the process or how fast it was moving, he attempted to climb up the briefcase. Ethan felt himself slipping into unconsciousness as the pull on his broken wrist and wounded arm became too much.

Chris knew in that instant that they were about to run out of time. "Hold still you son of a ...." Before he could finish the words, a loud snap resounded and he watched as the leather briefcase popped open and Quinn lost his grip, falling towards the pavement below. Money fluttered out from inside the compartment, trailing the henchman in his decent. "Buck pull us up, quick."

Wilmington and Tray wasted no time, as they hauled the men up top once more. Nathan was there now to help them, as he had grown tired of refereeing the fight between Boone and Ezra on who had saved whoms life.

Both men had only received slight injuries and he had left them to John and Roy's care, seeing as how the paramedics and other officers had arrived on the scene.

Buck grabbed Chris and steadied him, while Tray and Nathan brought Ethan the rest of the way over the side.

"Ease him down slowly onto the ground." Jackson was in medic mode now, having taken one look at the injured officer's haggard features and the blood soaking his right sleeve.

"You got this covered, Nate?" Chris was concerned about Mackalister, but he couldn't help but to be overwhelmed by the need to get to Vin.  He and JD both needed to be in a hospital and he didn't even know how the raid had went down, or even if it had went down yet.

"Go," Jackson waved him on. "Tell them I'll see them at Mercy." The ex-medic knew exactly where Chris was headed.

"I'm coming too, pard," Buck watched as Chris slipped his headset back on. "Can't have the kid thinking I've abandoned him." The mustached man then turned to Tray. "Hang in there, champ. Remember I still owe you a beer."

Tray pulled his eyes from Ethan to glance up at both ATF agents. "I think it's 'me' who owes you both a cold one."

"We'll remind you of that." Buck winked at the younger man before rushing off after Larabee.

"Is he all right?" Tray was looking anxiously at Nate while he examined his brother.

"No, I'm part left," a weak voice spoke up, and Jackson shook his head.

"Well, the bullet wound isn't bad. It just grazed him, but his right wrist is broken." Nate met Tray's worried gaze. "He'll be fine."

"Not when Davis ..get's a hold.. of ..me." Ethan gritted his teeth as Jackson used Chris' disgarded belt as a make-shift sling.

Tray looked confused. "What's dad got to do with this?"

Dark eyes met green ones. "Let's just say part of our inheritance is now floating down over Main Street."

Trayven laughed. "Not my inheritance, bro. I was written out of the will a long time ago."

Ethan smiled. "Then I guess 'Zeke' just contributed to the city, because I will definitely be out after today."

"At least we'll be in the doghouse together."

Ethan closed his eyes. "So what else is new."

****************

"Anything new?" Billy asked Meyers, as he tried to peer through the shades over Athena's windows to get a view of the federal building.

"Not a damn thing," the henchman growled. "We should have at least seen the helicoptor take off by now. Something's wrong."

Billy's smile held no humor.  He had the same suspicion. There plan was blown to hell, he knew it, and that meant that he had nothing to lose. Three strikes and your out, and Billy Sage had already stepped up to the plate one too many times in the eyes of the law. "Well, you know what the boss said to do if 'anything' went wrong."

Meyers looked at the teen. "Are you saying we shoot all these people?  What if Quinn is still negotiating?"

"Fuck that. The cops are probably all over him by now. I say we do what he expected us to. Or don't you have the balls for it?"

JD had been watching the exchange with growing anxiety.  He knew that given the chance Billy would kill both he and Vin.  By the looks of it, the two-bit hood had just been handed that very opportunity on a silver platter.

"You got a plan?" Vin's voice was weak, but to Dunne it sounded as sweet as music.

"That depends."

Tanner moved his head and looked up at his partner. "On what?"

"If we're desperate or not."

Vin flinched when he heard the gunshot. He and JD both turned to the front of the restaurant where now only Billy stood.

The redhead had just blown away Meyers and had a maniacle look plastered on his freckled face as he strode to the two hostages. "I guess he didn't have the equipment."

"Uh, kid?" Vin glanced back to JD.

"Yeah?" Dunne pushed himself back up against the wall.

"We just got 'very' desperate."

"Well, well, well," Billy scratched his head with the barrel of his 9mm, "looks like I'm in charge now. That means I can do what I want to do and nobody can do a damn thing about it." The con swung his gun down to cover both men. "And I really want to get rid of you two."

" And I thought we had bonded?" Vin replied, loud enough for only JD to hear.

"The only problem is I don't know which one to do first." Billy swung his gun to JD. "Should I waste the snot-nose kid?" He turned the weapon back on Vin. "Or the smart-mouth punk? Decisions. Decisions. Decisions."

"I know," JD spoke up, and Billy turned his gaze back to him, "how about 'I' choose."

Before the terrorist could even blink or react, Dunne brought his right arm out from beneath his jacket and used Tray's .38 special to put a bullet dead center of Billy's forehead. "Indecision can get you killed."

"Damn, kid," Vin used what little energy he had left to let out a whistle, "I thought 'I' was the sharpshooter."

JD let his hand fall back to his side. "You are. I was aiming for his shoulder." Dunne smiled. "Told you we had to be desperate."

******************

One week later

"I can do it myself, Buck," JD growled, wrestling his sandwich away from the older man. "How hard can it be to put ketchup on a bun."

"Don't even say it, brother." Josiah pointed his finger at the mustached man, who he knew was about to launch into some metaphor concerning the fairer sex.

"Now, kid," Buck continued instead,"the doctor said you shouldn't use that arm for at least two weeks. Besides, we all know how good your aim is."

"Funny," Dunne replied to the jab, around a mouthful of his burger. "But I didn't see you coming to save us anytime soon, Batman. So, it was fish or cut bait."

Jackson shook his head and took another drink of his beer. "Where does he come up with these things?"

Ezra nodded towards Vin and Chris, who had just entered the saloon with Ethan and Tray Mackalister. "You have to ask? Can you think of anyone else, besides Mr. Tanner, that would implant such drivel."

"Actually, I heard you say it the other day, Ez."

Standish started to deny that slanderous allegation but the arrival of the other men interrupted him.

"Gentlemen," Josiah quickly greeted his fellow teammates and their new friends. "I see you all survived the meeting with Mayor Jennings."

Tray groaned and took a seat by Buck. "If you could call gaining a new asshole surviving, then yeah."

"Your skill at lighting up a room still amazes me." Ethan rolled his eyes at his brother's lack of tact, and grabbed the seat next to Nathan.

Tray merely smirked and offered a friendly hand gesture to the other Mackalister. "How many fingers am I holding up, bro?"

"That's cute. Now everyone understands why we have no friends."

Chris grinned as he helped Vin take a seat. "No, I had that figured out already. I met your father, remember?"

"Ah, yes, the gentleman who came out on the losing side of this little venture." Ezra glanced at Tray then Ethan. "How did your father handle his loss of funds?"

"Have you ever seen the Exorcist?" Tray popped some pretzels in his mouth. "Well, after his head stopped spinning, and his slobbering subsided, he decided that murdering us would be a lot more expensive in the long run."

"So, he decided to use it as a tax write off. Charity contribution or something," Ethan finished for his brother. "Knowing him, he'll probably come out in the black."

"Speaking of funds," Ezra drawled, reaching into his pocket to pull out a large yellow reciept, "I would apprecitate it greatly if one of you would kindly give this to Mr. Boone."

"What is that, Ez?" Vin raised an eyebrow and peered over his friend's shoulder.

"This," the southerner made a grand display of unfolding the piece of paper, "is the cleaning bill for my best Armani suit, which was nearly ruined when I pushed Mr. Boone out of the line of fire during our little fiasco on the rooftop of the federal building."

"I thought 'he' pushed 'you' out of the way?" Tray took the bill, but looked confused.

Vin laughed. "I think Ez and Boone have decided that some things are completely subjective."

"Hmmph," Buck snorted. "I saw the whole damn thing, and they both ran into each other and fell down like those little weeble things you had as a kid."

Ezra looked appalled. "I dare say that your judgment concerning matters of observation is almost as astute as your competence in predicting the outcome of sporting events. Unless there are women in short skirts waving their assets in your direction, you are to say the least, too self-absorbed to notice much."

"Speaking of sporting events," Nathan Jackson smiled and looked at Josiah, "doesn't Ezra still owe us a meal?"

"Dear Lord," Ezra groaned, "I nearly died procuring the last nourishment you ordered. Have I not suffered enough?"

"Well, you could make it double or nothing," JD suggested. "There's a cage match on WWF tonight. We could watch it on the big screen at the apartment, and you all could bet on that."

"Cool," Tray spoke up before Standish could reply. "I almost forgot about that. I'll put twenty on the Rock."

"You don't have twenty dollars," Ethan pointed out.

"That's why you're coming." Tray grinned.

"Come on, Ez," Vin smiled at the southerner, who had a look similar to that of cattle being led off to slaughter," it might broaden your horizons."

"Yeah, Standish," Tray glanced at the undercover agent," you look like you've just been sentenced to death row."

Everyone at the table grew silent and Mackalister shrugged. "Do I need a shoehorn again?"

Ethan shook his head. "Malcom Freeman was sentenced to life in prison today. I guess you didn't hear."

"No," Tray sighed. "How's his father doing? Anyone heard?"

"I talked to him earlier at the courthouse," Chris replied. "He's heading back home to South Carolina to help raise his grandson."

"I was really hoping they'd give Malcom the death penalty," JD looked somewhat embarrassed, "until I met L.J. He didn't have to help us like he did."

Buck reached out and ruffled his best friend's hair. "Nobody with a father like Lawrence could be all bad, kid."

"Yes, perhaps we were all passing sentence a little prematurely. It's easy to wish a bad person harm when you don't see the people around them." Ezra looked at Vin. "I guess we should all be a little more careful with our assumptions and judgments in the future."

Tanner grinned. "Does that mean you'd be willing to go out with one of Mr. Gallapagos' daughters?"

"Over my dead body, Mr. Tanner."

"What?" Buck looked taken aback. "I'd kill to go out with one of them."

Standish lifted his glass and toasted the other man. "Exactly my point, Mr. Wilmington.  Exactly my point!"

The End