The only sound he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his chest. The courtroom erupted into chaos as bullets burst through the air, crashing into walls and people with equal abandon. Court officers and onlookers fell to the floor, either to avoid the shots or because they were forced down when the bullets ripped through their bodies. His own gun was out, but it was already too late – officers had come bursting into the room at the sound of gunfire, and they promptly took down the person responsible for the death and carnage.

            Still in shock, his eyes shifted to look around him. It was impossible to take it all in. The ex-girlfriend of the defendant had used a machine gun to take down as many people as possible in the few short seconds she had. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew that she had had help, that this was an inside job.

            But all thoughts of investigation fled when his gaze rested on the Assistant District Attorney. Suddenly freed from his paralysis, he rushed to her side, ignoring the cries and pleas that were just now reaching his ears. Kneeling, he stared at the gaping wound in her stomach with something akin to helplessness.

            "Don…" she whispered, one hand coming up to clench his arm.

            He held her hand and cradled her head in his lap, the blood soaking through his pant legs, staining them.

            "Hold on, Casey," he choked. "Hold on."

            "How can they not want to negotiate?" Michelle finally asked. "How can they not want anything?"

            "They do want something," Tony muttered. "But they've already got it."

            "And what's that?"

            "Our attention."

            "So what does that mean?"

            "It means," George told her. "That they are going to shoot every single person in that church."

            "But Ava wouldn't let that happen," she objected.

            "What is she going to do?" Tony asked. "She doesn't have a weapon on her. She refuses to carry them into a house of God."

            "Not even her off-duty weapon?"

            "Nope."

            "You know her, Tony," Mason said. "She won't just lie down and take this. She'll fight. And she'll probably die doing it."

            "Tony!"

            The agent turned in surprise when he heard his name called by a familiar voice. His eyes widened when he saw a bearded Jack striding across the room toward him, anger and fear evident in his expression.

            "What the hell is going on?" he demanded. "I just saw the video on the news – Ava is in that church!"

            "We know Jack, and we can handle it," Mason interrupted.

            "We'll get her back, Jack," Tony said quietly.

            "How? Are they negotiating?"

            "No."

            "Then how do you propose to get her back?"

            Tony frowned as he pondered Jack's question, his worry for Ava weighing heavily on him. Michelle watched the three men nervously, trying to decide if she should say anything. She was still new to CTU, and she wasn't exactly sure where she stood with Mason. But she knew that Tony would give her idea a fair listening, so she decided to speak up.

            "We know for a fact that they're not going to negotiate, right?" she asked. They nodded. "Then what do we have to lose?"

            "What are you suggesting?" Mason asked.

            "We send a team in. Hard and fast. If they're already set on killing all of the hostages, then we can't do anything more to endanger them. Plus," she added. "We have an agent inside. She can catch them unawares while they're focusing on our team."

            "That's assuming that she's still alive at that point," Mason muttered. Tony opened his mouth object, and the director held up his hand to stop him. "I hope she is too, Tony. But if she decides to fight too early or if they just choose to shoot her in the head, there's nothing much we can do." He took a deep breath. "Okay. We'll send a team in."

            "I'm going," Tony said immediately.

            "You're not a field agent."

            "I don't care."

            "He's going," Jack said suddenly. "And so am I."

            Mason sighed in frustration. "Bauer, you're not even an agent anymore."

            "Look, George. We're going, regardless. You can either have us going in with one of your teams, or on our own. Your choice."

            He stared at them for a moment, one hand on his hip. "Fine," he huffed. "But if either of you gets killed or gets in trouble, it's not my problem."

 

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            "You sure you're ready for this?" Tony asked quietly as he and Jack suited up.

            "I have to be. I can't lose her too, Tony."

            "I know."

            Jack looked at him for a moment. "You really care about her don't you?"

            "Yeah, I do."

            "You should tell her." Tony shook his head and Jack sighed in frustration. "Why not?"

            "It wouldn't work."

            "That's bullshit."

            "I'm too old for her."

            "That's even bigger bullshit. What is there…seven years between you? That's nothing."

            "She doesn't feel that way about me. I'm barely even sure of what I feel."

            Jack nodded, understanding both Tony's reluctance and indecision. "Just don't wait too long, Tony. You'll regret it."

            "Yeah, but for now, I just have to focus on getting her back."

 

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            The gunmen were systematic. They spread out among the parishioners, ignoring their screams and pleas for mercy as they coldly fired two bullets into each person's chest. The screams grew louder. Some people tried to resist – but their captors either overpowered them or shot them as they stood. It seemed as though there were no way for them to be stopped.

            "Oh God…we're going to die, aren't we?" Jen whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

            "It's certainly looking that way," Ava answered.

            Jen turned to look at her friend in shock.

            "That wasn't exactly the reassuring answer I was looking for. And how the hell can you be so calm?"

            Ava shrugged. "Crying isn't going to save anyone."

            "Sometimes I wonder if you're a robot, you know that?"

            She sighed. "You know me. I'll freak out about it later and breakdown – if there is a later," she mumbled. "Look, I've got a plan."

            "Do you happen to have a gun to go with it?"

            "No."

            "Then what could you possibly do?"

            "Guns are not the answer to everything. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure they're the source of a lot of the questions. This one, for instance." She paused. "They said they're going to shoot all of us. No questions asked, right?"

            "Right."

            "So what do we have to lose?"

            "What are you saying?"

            "We get up. We fight. We don't take this shit from anybody – especially not some masked gunmen who are willing to throw their lives away for some shadowy man behind the curtain."

            "So that's it…we just fight? See how many we can take down with us?"

            "Well, personally, I will not go gentle into that good night."

            Jen stared at her. "You're going to quote Dylan Thomas to make me throw my life away?"

            Ava gave her a sad smile, but there was determination glinting in her blue eyes.

            "'Rage, rage against the dying of the light,'" she whispered.

            "Amen to that," Jen muttered. "So…are we counting to three or something? How exactly do we initiate this last stand thing?"

            Ava looked up to see one of the gunmen aiming his gun at the chest of a little boy no older than six.

            "Three," she whispered.

            Without looking back, she catapulted herself up from the floor, driving her shoulders into the gunman. He fell back with a grunt, the gun clattering from his fingers. Ava wasted no time knocking him out with a few well-aimed punches and then moved on to the next man, who had begun moving towards her when he heard the commotion.

            Jen was only a couple of seconds behind her. She quashed the fears that had settled in the pit of her stomach, making her feel ill. Figuring that the adrenaline would make it go away, at least for the time being, she launched herself at the nearest of their captors, throwing him to the ground. Before she could knock him out, though, he flipped her over so that he was on top of her, his hands clamping around her throat. Her arms flailed around as she tried to find something to strike him with. Finally, her hand rested on an object, and she immediately swung her arm, slamming him in the end with it. He fell to the side just enough to loosen his grip, and Jen crashed her fist into his face, causing him to lose consciousness.

            She sat up, her eyes roving around the sanctuary. People all around her were fighting back now. It seemed that all they had needed was to see someone else taking a stand – then their courage and will to live returned to them and they took things into their own hands. They weren't winning, but they had halted the merciless executions. Now when somebody got shot, it was because they were fighting, daring to rebel against the fate the gunmen had tried to shove down their throats.

            Ava was in the thick of it. Their captors had almost immediately assessed her as the biggest threat and attacked her. She fought them with everything she had, ignoring the faint ache in her left shoulder. She had only recently been able to use it at full capacity again, and her body wasn't thrilled with the prospect of further injury. But she kicked, punched and bit her way through her opponents, refusing to let herself slow. She knew that her life – and those of the people around her – depended on her ability to take out as many of the bastards as she possibly could.

            Jen disposed of another gunman, hitting him with one of the heavy chairs that rested on the altar. She heard his skull cracked and she looked at the chair appraisingly – the blow had had absolutely no effect on the hard wood. Turning, she prepared to find someone else to fight, but found herself staring down the muzzle of a semi-automatic rifle.

            A sound roared in her ears, fighting for dominance with the pounding of her heart. Then the face in front of her burst into nothingness and the body slumped to the ground, its finger still on the trigger. Breathing heavily and suddenly shaking, Jen turned to find the shooter, and she almost cried in relief when she saw Jack Bauer moving through the room, his gun systematically taking out their captors.

            She watched with overwhelming gratefulness as a CTU team swept into the cathedral, weapons at the ready. Already short in numbers from the fight with the parishioners, the gunmen stood no chance against the government agents. Regardless, they fought back, forcing the CTU team to kill them in order to stop them. Finally, there was only the lead gunman left. They had him surrounded, and it was obvious that there was no where for him to go. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes and raised a pistol to his head, firing a single shot.

            Ava looked at the man now lying crumpled on the floor, a wave of nausea crashing over her. She just couldn't fathom how somebody could be willing to kill themselves for a cause that wasn't theirs, but belonged to someone whose only goal was power and terror. Sickened, she turned away and found her gaze resting on Tony. Giving her a relieved smile, he walked over to her, embracing her and holding her tightly. Ava returned the hug, closing her eyes and letting the relief wash over her as she realized that she was alive, despite the death sentence that had been clamped down on the sanctuary. Eventually, they pulled back.

            "What is it with you and random gunfire?"

            Ava rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't exactly call that random."

            "True." He looked down. "I'm glad you're okay."

            "Thanks to you."

            "You seemed to handling yourself pretty well from where I was standing."

            She shook her head, her face growing serious. "They were gaining the upper hand. I'm not sure I would have lasted much longer." She paused. "And if you guys hadn't come in when you did, I'd be short a best friend right now. So…thank you."

            Tony gave her a small smile. "You're welcome. I'm just glad you didn't get shot this time."

            "Me too." She looked around the room as the CTU team worked to clean up the bodies. "So do we have a lead on this guy?"

            He sighed. "None."

            Ava looked at him in sharply. "None? How can that be?"

            "He left no tracks. All his men are dead. They accomplished what they set out to do – they took control of a situation and we had no power to stop them."

            "But you did stop them. You saved us."

            "But we have no idea who he is. And no way to anticipate or stop the next attack."

            "You think there will be more?"

            He shrugged. "Do you really think someone like that can just let things lie after tasting that kind of power?"

            "I hate people," Ava muttered.

            "Actually, I think you have the opposite problem. You love them too much."

            "Impossible," she said. "You can never love too much."

 

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            "Final count, thirty one dead," Mason announced as Tony, Ava and Michelle walked into his office.

            "Bastards," Michelle muttered. "Who goes into a church and opens fire?"

            "A nut job," he answered.

            Ava shook her head. "Evil."

            They stood in silence for a minute, absorbing what she had said. The atmosphere grew darker as they pondered, but then George broke the spell.

            "We've done everything we can to try and find this guy."

            "And?" Ava asked.

            Michelle answered. "Nothing. He left absolutely no trace. Nothing in the feed or transmission to give any hints of his identity. The shooters have all been identified as former convicts from all around the world. We're digging into their pasts to find out where they could have crossed paths with this guy. But there's no paper trail. They were paid a great deal of money, but so far, we haven't been able to trace it." She paused. "In fact, we can't even be sure that the person behind this is a man. We're completely in the dark."

            "You're not actually suggesting that a woman could be behind this?" Tony asked, disbelief in his voice.

            Michelle raised her eyebrow at him. "You're not actually suggesting that a woman COULDN'T be behind this, are you?"

            He shrugged uncomfortably. "No, but…I heard what that guy…person…said on the video. I just can't believe that a woman would be that cold and merciless when it comes to the deaths of others."

            "What about Nina Myers?"

            Tony winced and Ava closed her eyes at the impact of Michelle's words. The analyst realized what she said and her eyes widened.

            "I am so sorry. That just slipped out. I didn't think about it first."

            Ava gave her a small smile.

            "It's okay. We know you didn't mean anything by it." She took a deep breath and then changed the subject, the pain on Tony's face like a knife in her heart. "So," she turned to Mason. "What's the next step? How do we find this guy?"

            Any hope that she had died as George shrugged.

            "We wait."

            "You're kidding, right? Please oh please tell me you're kidding."

            "What do we have to go on? What leads can we possibly follow?"

            "There's got to be something," Tony interjected.

            Michelle shook her head. "I really wish there was. But we've got nothing."

            "So we just wait?"

            "You said it yourself, Tony," Ava said quietly. "Once somebody like that tastes that kind of power…do you really think they'll just sit back and retire? He'll strike again. And we have no way to be ready to it."

 

            Let me tell you how this all began. It was House's fault, no matter what he says. If he had just left Wilson alone, none of this would have happened…

 

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            "What the hell were you thinking!?" Wilson demanded as he charged into the room.

            "That Britney really shouldn't have worn that outfit at the VMA's?" House replied, looking up from his whiteboard.

            Wilson's face contorted in rage as he seemed to search for some kind of retort to House's indifference. I shared a nervous glance with Foreman – neither of us had ever seen Wilson so angry before.

            "Do you know that you almost destroyed my car? It's going to cost $300 to fix it!" he finally exclaimed.

            "If I had almost destroyed it, it would have cost you at least $500."

            "Dammit, House! You had no right to do that!"

            "It was only a joke. If you and Cameron can't take a joke –"

            "A joke?" he scoffed. "You messed with my car so that it would break down. If I had gotten to the highway, I could have been killed! You steal my cell phone! And then you call Cameron and you lie to her about where I am! Just so that you can ruin our first date."

            "Aha!" House exclaimed. "So it was a date!"

            "Fuck you, Greg," Wilson spat out, before turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

            "You're stupid. Do you know that?" Foreman asked.

            "Hey! Did you know you're black?"

            I sighed, frustrated by House's childishness. "Why don't you just tell Cameron that you like her instead of sabotaging her dates?"

            "I don't like Cameron," he muttered.

            "Obviously. This is all about how much you like Wilson. Can't stand to see him paying attention to anybody else."

            House let his mouth drop open in an expression of exaggerated shock. "Gasp! Was that a veiled joke questioning my sexuality? Chase, you swore you'd never tell!"

            I just rolled my eyes. I knew that there was no arguing with him when he got like this.

            "It doesn't really matter," Foreman said as he stood up and headed for the door. "Cameron's moved on. Sabotage all the dates you want – she's interested in Wilson now. Not you."

 

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            I found Cameron in the lab, running tests on a patient's blood work. She gave me a small smile, but I could tell that it was taking a lot of effort to stay calm.

            "Hey," I said.

            "Hey."

            Sitting down next to her, I wracked my brain for some way to comfort her.

            "House is an idiot," I finally said.

            "What?"

            "House. He's an idiot."

            "What did he do this time?"

            "Well, he's the reason you're upset, isn't he?"

            "No. I'm upset over Wilson."

            "Why?"

            "Because he stood me up last night to go out with Cuddy."

            I frowned, certain things starting to click into place.

            "Wait. You haven't talked to Wilson today?"

            "No. I don’t trust myself to stay calm."

            "Did you tell anyone else about last night?"

            "Foreman."

            "You told Foreman? Why?"

            Cameron shrugged, confused by my questions.

            "Because he was giving me a hard time this morning. I just snapped and told him to leave me alone. It was bad enough that I had been stood up, I didn't need his crap on top of it."

            "He must have told Wilson," I murmured, lost in my own thoughts.

            "Chase, what are you talking about?"

            I looked at her closely. "Cameron, Wilson didn't stand you up."

            "Yes he did. House said he saw him –"

            "House is full of shit. He messed with Wilson's car so that it broke down and stole his cell phone so that he couldn't call you. Then he lied to you about where Wilson was."

            Her eyes flashed with anger.

            "Are you sure?"

            "Yeah, I'm sure. Wilson just came in and ripped House a new one! I've never seen him so angry before."

            Cameron nodded, taking deep breaths as she let everything process.

            "Okay."

            "Okay?" I asked. "That's it?"

            "I'll deal with House later. Right now I have a patient."

            I really didn't like the look in her eyes.

 

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            "Are you okay?" Foreman asked again.

            House glared at him. "I'm fine! Stop asking!"

            "You seem…hyper," I suggested.

            "Oh, so I'm not allowed to be in a chipper mood then? That's reserved for bleeding-heart women and silly-sounding Australian blokes?"

            "You're bouncing off the walls," Foreman interjected. "Are you on something?"

            "You mean other than Vicodin?" I asked icily. Then I stopped, staring at House suspiciously. "You haven't upgraded to anything else, have you?"

            "Seeing as how I don't have a prescription for anything else, that would be illegal, Chase."

            "Like that's stopped you before," I retorted.

            When we reached the landing of the stairs, Foreman turned and put an arm out, forcing House to stop.

            "Seriously, House. Something is wrong. Either you're on meds or you're doing more serious drugs."

            "You're such a downer. I thought the token black guy was supposed to be fun."

            "We're not letting you work on any more patients until you tell us what you're on."

            "I think the patients will enjoy me more like this."

            Footsteps caused me to turn around, and I saw Cameron charging up the stairs. Fury blazed in her eyes, and her hands were balled into fists. I wondered if I should step between her and House, but quite honestly, I wanted to see the bastard get what he deserved.

            "House!" she yelled.

            "Cameron!" he said theatrically.

            Spreading his arms, he suddenly twirled, his cane stretched out from his left hand. It collided with Cameron's chest, knocking her off-balance. Her arms wind-milled for a second or two, but just as Foreman and I reached out to grab her, she toppled backwards, crashing down the stairs.

            "What are you doing down there?" House asked quizzically.

            I rushed down to see if she was okay, Foreman right behind me. Kneeling next to her, I lifted her leg, probing gently. She hissed in pain.

            "It's broken," I sighed. Then I turned to look up at House. "You broke her ankle."

 

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            "This is all my fault," Wilson moaned as he walked into the exam room.

            Cameron smiled at him.

            "I beg to differ."

            "How? I'm the one who changed his meds."

            "So that was you? Chase said they were sure he was on something. What was it?"

            Wilson looked down at the floor. "Xanax."

            He was surprised when she laughed.

            "That would explain his mood then," she said.

            "But if I hadn't switched them, you wouldn't have broken your ankle."

            "True. But if House weren't addicted to painkillers, he wouldn't have been tricked into taking the wrong meds, either."

            "Yeah, but –"

            "And, it's what he deserves for ruining our date."

            "About that…do you think there's any chance we could try it again?"

            "I hope you're not suggesting I hobble around while you take me out to some nice restaurant."

            He smiled. "Not at all. I'm suggesting I come over to your place tonight and cook you a nice dinner."

            "I really like the sound of that."

            "You two are gross," Foreman stated as he walked into the room.

            "That's your fault," Cameron pointed out.

            "It's my fault that you're gross?"

            "It's your fault that Wilson found out about House's tricks. The only way he could have found out was if you told him that I thought I'd been stood up."

            Foreman shrugged.

            "Don't think this means I like you, Cameron. I just wanted to piss House off."

            "Regardless," she smiled. "Thank you."

            He returned her smile.

            "You're welcome."

           

           

           

            "Everyone to the ground!" one of the men roared, firing off a couple shots into the air.

            The parishioners fell to the floor as one, some screaming, some crying. Ava glanced over at Jen, reassuring herself that her friend was still okay. Jen gave her a small nod, despite the fear looming in her eyes. Looking around, Ava tried to count how many gunmen there were, but all she could really tell from her position was that there were more than seven. She silently cursed the fact that she didn't have any weapons on her – she never brought her gun to church. Something about the very idea was repugnant to her.

            A movement to her right caught Ava's attention, and she turned her head. One of the older priests was moving down the aisle toward the gunman who had spoken. She could see that his hands shook, but he kept his face passive as he approached them.

            "Please, gentlemen," he said quietly. "Why don't you just tell us what you want. There's no reason for any violence."

            Without any hesitation, the gunman lifted his weapon and shot the priest in the head. As the old man crumpled to the ground, the screams in the cathedral rose to a higher pitch. Their captor turned to look at his hostages.

            "We're here to deliver a message," he declared loudly.

 

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            "Tony!" Mason bellowed as he barreled out of his office and down the stairs. "Turn on CNN. NOW!"

            Frowning, Tony did as his boss asked. As the news came onto the screen, he found himself watching a reporting standing outside of St. Patrick's Cathedral in downtown Los Angeles.

            "For those of you who have just joined us, I'm standing in from of St. Patrick's Cathedral. There have been reports of multiple gunshots from inside, and the doors are barred. We have also heard screaming, presumably from the hostages inside. Law enforcement officers are trying to negotiate with the gunmen, but so far have not had any luck. But a source in the police department tells me that CTU – the Counter Terrorist Unit – has been called in."

            "Oh my God."

            Tony turned to see Michelle Dessler standing beside him, a hand over her mouth as she watched the TV screen. She had joined CTU shortly after the attempts on President Palmer, replacing Nina. So far she was working out well, quickly befriending both Ava and Tony.

            "What?" he asked, seeing worry etched across her features.

            She opened her mouth to answer when Mason stepped in.

            "They're releasing a video," he told them.

            "A video of what?"

            "I'm guessing their demands. They won't give it to authorities. They're sending a video feed through the news network."

            "How the hell are they doing that?"

            "Beats me. But apparently these guys are more sophisticated than your usual hired gunmen."

            The two men quieted as the picture on the screen changed. A figure hidden in darkness faced the camera, the shadows obscuring their face so that an I.D. was impossible. When they began to speak, it was obvious that they were using a voice changer to mask their identity even further.

            "You are probably expecting me to lay out my demands here, so that we can negotiate and you can save the lives of the hostages inside of St. Patrick's. But I am here to inform you that I have no demands. I do not want anything from you. There is nothing you can give me that would make me change my mind about what I'm about to do. This is about power, plain and simple. I have it. You don't. I can do anything at anytime, and there is nothing that you can do to stop me. These people inside of St. Patrick's will die – everyone single one of them. No negotiating or threatening will change that fact. My men have no concern for their own lives – their only mission is to prove to you that you are utterly powerless."

            The shadowy figure disappeared, and the inside of the cathedral became visible. Tony realized that they were looking at a live feed now. Mason yelled into the phone beside him before slamming it back down into its cradle.

            "Who was that?"

            "The network. They're trying to figure out where the video is coming from, but somebody is overriding their systems. I think we've just been introduced to a major player."

            One of the gunmen appeared on the screen, his black mask making it impossible to know who he was. Bending down, he dragged a young woman up off the floor, holding her in front of him so that everyone watching could get a good look at her face. She was sobbing, her body quaking with fear as her captor held her in place.

            "This is only the beginning," he growled.

            Bringing up his weapon, he shot her in the temple.

 

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            "Oh shit," Tony cursed, moving closer to the big screen so that he could get a better look.

            "That's what I was about to tell you," Michelle said quietly. "She was supposed to sing during the service."

            "What?" Mason demanded. "What are you talking about?"

            Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. Lifting a finger he pointed to two figures on the floor of the cathedral, their eyes wide as they watched the scene around them unfold.

            "Ava and Jen. They're there. In the cathedral."

 

           

            Claire found the ring when they got back to the beach, and she knew. She knew that Charlie would never be coming back to her. Her gaze swept out across the ocean as she held a sleeping Aaron in her arms. The waves moved ceaselessly back and forth, an undulating grave for the man she had fallen in love with.

            She wanted to be angry with him. She wanted to hate him for sacrificing himself, for leaving her. But she just couldn't do it. The ring told her that he knew what would happen to him when he dove down to the underwater station – and he had gone anyway, willingly. She smiled a little at that. Whatever else could be said about Charlie, he was a hero.

            Footsteps approached her from behind, and Claire turned to find Hurley standing there. His eyes rested on the ring in her hand.

            "Guess he did it. Charlie. He saved us."

            Tears built behind her eyes as she nodded. "Yeah. He did."

            "I wanted to go with him and Desmond. But he wouldn't let me." Hurley's gaze moved out across the ocean, just as hers had only moments before. "He's gone, isn't he? That's why he wouldn't let me come with him. He knew he wouldn't be coming back."

            The emotion in his voice was her undoing, and tears began sliding down her cheeks. Gently, she placed Aaron in his crib and then turned back to face the man before her.

            "Yeah, Hurley. I think he's gone."

            His face fell as his own tears came. Claire watched him for a moment, her heart breaking for both of them. Then she stepped forward, wrapping her arms as far around him as she could and holding him tightly.

            They stood there for a long time, mourning for their friend. The only thing left to do now was remember him kindly, and wait for the rescue he had died to bring them.