With the first shots fired from the building across the way, the man knew things had taken a turn for the worse. Training his binoculars down into the street, he saw a group of men wearing jackets proclaiming they were FBI enter the hotel. He frowned and began stuffing his things into a bag. It was time to return home and report directly to The Left Hand.

Getting caught in America was not an option.

-4.5 hours

Andrew was dead.

Annabeth blinked in shock, watching his body crumple in slow motion.

He fell to the floor, his hand flopping out, palm up on top of her foot. She looked down into the vacant depth of his eyes and still the same three words echoed in her head.

Andrew was dead.

She took a hurried leap back away from the corpse and screamed in horror. The man was a pain in the ass and the bane of her professional existence, but she never wanted him actually to die. In her hurry to get away, she stumbled back onto a small pile of debris and slipped. Her butt made contact with the unforgiving floor, jarring her teeth until they rattled in her head. She barely acknowledged the jolt. Adrenaline dumped into her system making her heart race. Her eyes stayed trained on the body of her client staring up at the ceiling only a few feet from her.

"Annabeth!"

She dimly registered her name as an arm curled around her chest and pulled her to her feet. "Get up," a voice punctured the haze of her stupor.

"Okay, Hick," she murmured but couldn't get her body to obey. The arm pulled at her insistently until finally, she climbed to her feet.

His body molded itself to her, wrapping one arm around her waist tightly. His breath fanned the strands of hair that had escaped the severe bun she had put in it this morning. "Move," he hissed.

She wrinkled her brow in confusion. Why was Hick so abrupt? She turned her head to ask then spied someone standing a few feet from her, pistol drawn and focused on them. He stared at her intently with barely restrained fury in his eyes. Eyes she recognized even through the fuzzy haze of shock that pounded in her mind. Wait. If that was Hick then who had her snuggled up against him?

"Let her go," Hick growled at them. "Let her go, and you'll live through this."

In response, she felt something hard press into her ribs. She hissed in fear and tried to twist away. She couldn't move. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw it was the leader of the terrorists. Well, shit. This can't be good.

"Move back, Mr. Green Jeans," the man snarled. "Or she dies."

Hick shook his head. "Let her go, asshole. I'm warning you."

He laughed tightly, the sound loud in her ears.

"Hick?" she whispered uncertainly.

"It's ok, honey." His eyes never left the face of her captor. His hands never wavered as he stared down the barrel of the gun at them.

The terrorist pulled her back with him. She stumbled, her feet slipping on the slick papers littering the floor. He stopped then began to move to the left, toward the front. Something warm dripped down her shoulder and splattered on her hand. She looked down and saw blood covering her front. Andrew's blood. There was so much of it. Another drop fell, and she watched it mingle with the others. She wanted the coppery mess off her and barely resisted the urge to scrub her hands on her skirt.

"My dry cleaner is going to quit," she said under her breath.

"Shut up, woman," the man barked in her ear.

"You're going nowhere. Let the woman go. We have the room locked down." Hick prowled forward keeping steps with them.

The terrorist's breathing was faster than ever, panting against the side of her face. She shuddered. She wouldn't have minded Hick growling into her ear, but this guy? Not so much. She must have said so out loud because Hick's lips twitched slightly. "I'll pant on you later," he soothed her.

"There will be no later. She is going to die. Stop now, or I will kill her right before your eyes."

"And you die too, asshole. Look around. You're leaving here in a body bag if you don't let her go."

"I'm prepared. I came here today knowing I would give my life for my beliefs. Are you willing to watch this woman die?" Spittle flew from the man's lips.

The words finally registered in Annabeth's addled mind. With the realization, fear slammed into her with the force of a semi tractor. She gasped, and her head felt light. Looking around, she saw two others dressed in the uniforms that Hick had called BDUs or battle dress uniforms. Each had a serious looking rifle pointed at them. They slowly advanced toward Hick, matching him step for step but moving in an oblique direction spreading out behind him. Past them, Cowboy and River were herding the others out the door. She heard them urging the hostages to move faster. Another SEAL hurried over the messy floor to the crate. He dropped his rifle then stared at the wooden container. Even from this distance, she could see several fingers of his left hand were mangled.

"Duuude?"

One of the men approaching Hick hissed the word but didn't take his eyes off her.

"It's going to take a few minutes, Wolf." Dude returned from beside the crate. He took one more glance at the object and advanced toward the table containing the monitors.

"Get away from there," her captor screeched. He pulled the gun up and pressed it painfully against Annabeth's temple. "He gets closer to Allah's Fire; she will die."

"Dude! Back away," Hick ground out.

Annabeth saw him stop only a few inches from the table then take several steps back. Silence fell on the room as the last of the hostages were ushered out leaving her, the terrorist, Hick and the three SEALs she hadn't met.

"Your hostages are gone. Let her go," Wolf's voice was growly and low. "You aren't getting out of here with her."

"I never intended to," came the gleeful reply. "I knew today would be the one where I finally meet Allah."

"You failed," Hick snapped out. "The hostages are gone. How is Allah and Haafiz al-Bashir going to feel when you die for nothing?"

"Soon, this building will still fall. When it does, my name will be called out. I will be remembered as one of Allah's great soldiers. Allahu akbar!"

"There's a timer!" Dude yelled then swore. "This needs to end now. I don't know how much time we have left to disarm."

"Not enough," the man sneered.

Annabeth listened to the exchange. The more this jerk spoke, the more pissed she got. Hick and the others were heroes. They risked their lives every day to bring down fascists like this one pressed against her back. She would be damned if she allowed this jackass to hurt them or anyone else.

"Take the shot," she said in an even tone.

Hick's brow wrinkled, and he shook his head slightly. "No."

"Take the freaking shot, Hick. Don't let this asshole win."

"Shut up!" The terrorist screamed in her ear then shoved the barrel of the gun harder against her temple, making her head cant to the side.

"Go on Levi Salter. Take the damned shot. Don't let him hurt anyone else. Don't let his hatred win. Take. The. Shot."

"Georgia," Hick's voice was haunted.

"I love you too," she said with a smile then closed her eyes.

She heard the shots.

She felt the pain.

She succumbed to the nothing.

 

 

"Annabeth!"

Hick's heart stopped in his chest as he watched the love of his life collapse to the floor. Panic sliced through him as he lunged forward, kicking the pistol away from the leader and dropped beside her. "No, no, no," he chanted as he reached her still body. Gently, he cupped the back of her neck and turned her face toward him. Dark lashes lay on ashen cheeks, her coral lips standing out in stark contrast. Tenderly, he swept a lock of her crimson hair back from her face. It was stiff with Andrew's blood already drying. She was too still and her face much too pale. Her lips had taken a blue tone, and he couldn't see her chest rise. Gathering her limp form into his arms, he held her close. God, how would he survive? How will he live without her?

Mozart dropped to his knees beside them. "Let me see," he said quietly.

Hick ignored him. Instead, he rocked quietly, whispering to her, telling her how much he loved her.

"Dammit, Hick, let me see her," Mozart pulled at his arm.

"How will I live without her, Mozart?"

"He's in shock," Abe said as he dropped beside him. "Mozart needs to see her. Let her go, Hick."

Hands grabbed at his arms, trying to snatch his Georgia from him. He fought against them, snarling as they tried to pry her from his grasp.

"She's not dead, Hick. She's still breathing." Toad murmured as he laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Let Mozart have her. Let him save her life."

Wolf stood over them with his rifle pointed to the ground. "We need to get her stabilized enough to get her out of here. Dude and Cowboy are working on the bomb, but we don't know how much time we have."

Recognition finally dawned on him. Hick gritted his teeth and allowed them to pull her from his embrace. His eyes never left as Toad laid her flat on her back and Mozart assessed her. Rolling her over, Mozart found the entry point. Grabbing a stack of gauze squares from the medi-bag at his side, he pressed it tightly against it and the exit wound on the front of her shoulder. The team waited with baited breath as he worked. "It's clear through. I've slowed the bleeding for the moment, but we need to get her to the hospital ASAP. She's in a bad way."

"Got it!" Dude called out from the front of the room, "and with two minutes to spare. Not even movie of the week worthy."

Hick didn't care about the bomb or that Dude had it diffused. He didn't care that they were less than two minutes from becoming ashes. He didn't even care that the front of his shirt was soaked with blood. None of that mattered to him. Everything that was precious to him lay on the floor next to a dead terrorist, pouring her life out into Mozart's blood-stained hands. He was dimly aware of others, his team, police, and federal agents swarming the room, but he kept his eyes focused entirely on her.

"Dammit!"

For the second time tonight, his heart stuttered.

Mozart yelled, "I don't feel her pulse."

Toad dropped to his knees beside her, pressed two fingers to the uninjured side of her neck and frowned. Quickly, he cupped his hands, one on top of the other and began chest compressions. "Come on, Bethy.  Breathe."

Hick felt Cowboy and River grab him and pull him back away from the trio. They were trying to make him leave her. He couldn't. Not now, not ever. Yanking his arms out of their grasp, he crawled over, picked up her limp hand and stroked it.

"Hick!"

"No! I'm not leaving her. You can court-martial me if you have to for disobeying orders, Bruise, but I am not moving away from her." He turned back to her and spoke. "Come on Georgia. Come back to me. You can't leave. Not now. Please. God, please don't take my Georgia," he begged out loud. He didn't care who heard him. If it made him weak, so what? If it meant getting her back, he would do whatever was necessary; his pride be damned. His eyes filled with water and he let the tears fall. He just didn't care.

He rocked slowly, holding her hand against his chest. "You can't leave me, honey. You can't. I have all these plans. I got the cabin for us up in the mountains. I was going to surprise you. It has everything - hot tub, fireplace, a gorgeous view overlooking the valley. The agent said there's a family of deer that will eat right out of your hand. It even has a concierge chef to cook for us so we wouldn't have to leave. I have it all planned." He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles. "All for you, my Georgia. It's all for you."

The room was quiet, filled only with the sounds of Toad grunting as he continued to do CPR. Then it was broken with Hick's baritone as he sang his version of their song.

I said, Georgia, oh Georgia. No peace will I find. You're my Georgia, sweet Georgia, forever on my mind.

Toad stopped compressions as Hick's song ended. Mozart pressed two bloody fingers against the carotid artery. Relief filled his face. "There's a pulse. Where the hell are those paramedics?"

In answer, two men appeared with a gurney and took over her care. Hick allowed them to pull her hand out of his grasp, but he never was further than a couple of feet away as they loaded her onto a backboard and started an IV. Once they had her secured, they placed her on the stretcher and rolled her out a side door. Within moments, she was lifted into the ambulance. Hick began to climb in but was stopped by one of the medics. "Are you related?"

"No, but if you think for one minute you are going to keep me out of there, you're insane. Where she goes, I go."

The man must have seen something dangerous in Hick's eyes for he nodded tightly. "Then ride in the front. I don't need you crowding me in back if there's an emergency."

Hick whirled around and hopped into the front. Glancing back through the tiny window, he saw the paramedics lock her stretcher into the bay. One jumped into the back; the other climbed into the front. The siren was loud as they roared out of the parking lot. Hick didn't look back at his team standing there watching them leave. His eyes were on the still form in the back, thanking God for every breath she took.