A/N: Thanks for your reviews! This is a short piece; in fact, here's the finale. Sorry that I couldn't resist breaking it at the cliffhangeriest point...

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Benny watched as the other man's head bent forward, and he figured he was saying a prayer or something. Wouldn't be the first time he'd seen that. He pulled back the hammer on the gun and saw Eppes' shoulders stiffen at the sound. His head was still down, but now it was moving slightly back and forth.

He realized what the FBI agent was doing a fraction of a second too late.

As his finger started to tighten on the trigger, there was suddenly nothing there. After scoping out the ground below him, Eppes had silently pitched forward and deliberately fallen down the near-cliff at the edge of the trail: the same route that his body would have taken a second later, except without Benny's bullet in it.

"God damn it," he muttered, moving to the crumbling edge and looking down. What the hell difference did it make if the man killed himself or had someone do it for him? No one could survive a fall like that. Dead was dead—it didn't matter how it happened. But it sure would have been a lot easier if Benny could be positive it had happened at his hand.

A series of rustles and thumps matched the progress of the body tumbling down the hillside. First Eppes was reaching out a hand to keep himself from smashing into a boulder the size of a sheepdog, then letting out a loud grunt of pain as his hip contacted an even larger rock. His right foot appeared to briefly catch on something, and he let out a sharp cry that must have been audible back down at the start of the trail. Benny saw the rapidly-receding figure curl his arms over his head for protection as he continued his careening journey down the hill, finally crashing to a halt at the same thicket that was supposed to have hidden his dead body. A few rocks that had been disturbed by Eppes' fall continued to rustle and clank their way down the hill, and then silence fell again.

Benny watched for a moment, hoping to see the man lying still and lifeless, but in a few seconds there was a slight motion visible on the moonlit hillside. "God damn it," he repeated. He sighted down the barrel towards the dark shape below, but that same damn boulder was in the way. He was going to have to climb down and do this the hard way.

Fifteen minutes later and two hundred feet down the mountainside, he'd run through the standard obscenities and had moved on to some creative speculation regarding Eppes' parentage and the kind of anatomical impossibilities he should be attempting. He'd tried a couple more times to draw a bead on the injured agent, but he had withdrawn further into the thicket, his dark clothing blending with the vegetation. Benny didn't want to fire until he was sure he was going to hit his target; the nearest house was over the ridge, but one loud noise was harder to mistake for a gunshot than multiple blasts would be. Eppes hadn't moved very far, which probably meant he was hurt enough that he couldn't run. Just postponing the inevitable, he thought, briefly holstering his gun while clambering over a particularly tricky section of rock. Not much farther to go. He didn't want to think about the effort it was going to take to climb back up to the trail. That was one more thing to take out on the target once he got there.

He was close now, only a few yards from the edge of the thicket. He slid a little on the steep hillside, a shower of pebbles racing away past his feet. He froze in place, watching the dark shape that was the size and shape of Don Eppes, but it didn't move. Huh. Maybe he finally passed out. He took a step closer, drawing his gun and training on the agent, wanting to get a hair's-breadth closer before putting the man out of his misery.

The movement to his right caught him entirely by surprise.

Benny started to duck, but the object moving towards his head was coming too fast. It struck his temple, and he staggered sideways, the gun falling out of his hand as his arms automatically came out to stop his fall. He crashed to the ground, hands slicing open on sharp rock, reaching out frantically for his fallen weapon only to have his fingers close on empty air as the FBI agent snatched it from the ground and rolled away, gasping with pain as he did so, but still managing to raise the weapon and point it straight at him.

There was no sound for a moment but the harsh breathing of the two men. Benny could feel every piece of rock digging into his side beneath him, could feel his twisted left ankle where it had become trapped between two good-sized rocks as he fell. He raised his head and saw the black material of the agent's handcuff pouch lying on the dirt next to him, the glint of the metal cuffs stained with a dark red smear. He lifted a hand to his face to feel the blood trickling down his temple. Well, wasn't that fitting. He'd decided not to use Eppes' own cuffs on him, and now they were the reason for his own downfall. That wasn't a mistake he was going to make again.

"Put them on." The voice was ragged but firm, the agent now in control of the situation like he hadn't been since he got in his SUV half an hour ago.

Benny glared back defiantly. "Like hell." He eyed the other man carefully. Maybe he could return the favor, hurl the deceptively-heavy pouch back at him and distract him long enough to get at the backup weapon he'd taken from the agent's ankle holster a few minutes ago and tucked in the back of his jeans. He noticed the dark line of blood on Eppes' left forearm, the way he was still taking shallow breaths when Benny had caught his breath already. He was hurt bad, that was for sure. Which meant that if Benny kept his head, he could still get what he wanted out of this.

Eppes was lying on his back, head raised and both arms extended. Suddenly, he shifted his aim a foot to the side and pulled the trigger. Benny flinched at the sudden noise and the rock chips that stung his arms. He made a motion, and Eppes raised the gun higher. His face was wreathed in pain, his right leg bent back at an odd angle and a line of red marking his arm, but the fire in his eyes was for real. "Trust me, Natale, I'm just looking for an excuse," he ground out from behind clenched teeth.

Benny looked at the agent more closely and saw that he meant it. He was half surprised the man hadn't already pulled the trigger, but then he probably didn't have it in him. So he kept still, waiting to see what the other man would do next.

A moment passed. Then Eppes said, "You've got my backup piece. Slowly, take it out and drop it in front of you."

Ah, damn it. There went that idea. Still half on his right side, half on his stomach, Benny slowly reached back and pulled the small Glock from his waistband. He eyed the other man carefully, but even if he was injured, Eppes was still alert. And the Sig was obviously functional. Grudgingly, he tossed the weapon off to the side, out of the reach of both of them. Eppes' eyes tracked it, but he didn't move.

"Looks like you're not doing too well down there," Benny said. "You think you're gonna get out of this in one piece?"

The other man ignored him, lifting his chin towards the pouch with the handcuffs. "Put them on," he repeated. He took a shallow breath and went on, "Hands in front of you."

He reached slowly for the pouch, judging how much effort it would take to throw it at the other man. But the gun moved again, and fired again, and he knew Eppes meant business. Two rounds gone, six left. He doubted he'd use up all of his warning shots before one of them actually hit him. Grudgingly, he opened the pouch and removed the handcuffs, fastening them loosely around his wrists under the agent's watchful eye.

Once the cuffs were on, Eppes started to sit up but then closed his eyes for a moment. Benny began to gather his legs underneath him but froze as the agent came to a sitting position and pointed the Sig at his head. He held out his hands placatingly, and Eppes lowered the gun a little, his arms shaking ever so slightly as he did so.

"Now what?" Benny asked, deliberately echoing the other man's words from a few minutes ago.

There was a long pause, and Benny slowly realized that the other man had no idea. Neither of them was carrying a cell phone that he could use to call his Fed buddies, and since it looked like the agent was expending all of the strength he had just to sit upright at this point, he wasn't exactly gonna be marching back down the trail to bring him into custody. He watched the uncertainty flicker in the other man's eyes, and he bit back a grin. "Tell you what," he said in a conciliatory tone. "You let me go, and I'll leave you alone and just get out of town. Hell, if I can take the cuffs off, I'll even call an ambulance for you. How 'bout that?"

"Like hell," Eppes muttered, echoing his words in turn. "You're not going anywhere except to prison, Natale."

"And who's gonna make me?" He nodded in the agent's direction. "You can't even stand on your own two feet right now; how're you gonna take me in?"

Eppes drew in a long breath and looked around, scanning their surroundings. Benny frowned, wondering what the other man was looking for. He didn't see anything but a bunch of rocks and trees. Not even trees, really; there was a bunch of scrubby stuff behind the FBI agent that reminded Benny of the mountainsides near Albuquerque, but only one or two trees worthy of the name. Beyond the scrubby thicket, he could see the faint orange glow of the city. Millions of people were within a few miles of them, but they might as well have been in the middle of nowhere.

"That tree." Eppes gestured with the gun towards a sad little evergreen tree a few yards away, no taller than Benny and the trunk no thicker than his wrist. "Take the key and uncuff your left hand, then fasten the cuff around the tree trunk." He paused for breath. "Down at the bottom, under all the branches."

Benny eyed him cautiously. As bad of shape as the guy looked to be in, he was holding the gun awfully steady. So he grudgingly slid over to the tree, wincing as his injured ankle scraped over the rocks. He did as he was told and then dropped the key to the ground without being asked. It wasn't within his immediate reach, but with a little twisting and reaching, he should be able to get to it.

Once he was secured to the tree, Eppes let out a sigh. He looked at his watch—why, Benny had no idea—and then lowered his arms so the gun was resting in his lap, vaguely pointed in Benny's direction but nowhere near as threatening as it had been a moment ago. A spark of hope started to rise in him. If Eppes was planning on leaving him here and hiking out, he'd be lucky to make it in one piece, beat-up as he looked. All Benny had to do was be patient, get to that key, and he'd be out of here. Might even catch up with the FBI agent on the way and take him out after all. He forced himself to sit still, head down, looking as cowed as he could.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eppes shifting around, moving his good leg under him and trying to stand up. He couldn't hide a grunt of pain, although when Benny turned his head to look, the Sig moved back in his direction. He dropped his gaze, slowly moving his own leg so that it was closer to the key he'd dropped. As Eppes struggled to his feet, bracing himself with a hand on the boulder next to him, Benny got his heel on top of the shiny metal and started to pull it closer to him. He stopped when the key was only a few inches from his fingers, carefully moving his leg back to where it had been. A quick glance told him that the agent hadn't noticed; he was busy wiping sweat from his brow and testing his weight on his right leg. It almost instantly started to buckle, and Eppes barely caught himself before pitching forward onto the ground. Instead, he stood there, chest heaving, gun tucked away in his holster and frustration written all over his face.

Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bushes off to Benny's right. He turned his head, noting that Eppes was drawing the gun and raising it to point at this new threat. Shit, are there cougars here? he thought, alarm rising. Or bears? And I'm cuffed to a fucking tree! He scrabbled for the key, no longer caring if the agent noticed him or not. His fingers had just closed around the metal when the bushes parted and someone stepped out.

No, this was worse than a cougar. It was a police officer, gun drawn and looking back and forth between the two of them, clearly not sure what to make sure of the situation.

Behind him, Eppes was raising his hands into the air, pointing the Sig towards the sky. "Officer, my name is Special Agent Don Eppes," he said, relief evident in his voice. "I'm with the FBI, and I'm the one who fired the shots. My badge is in the SUV at the trailhead, number 2317616."

There was a pause. Then the cop raised his radio to his mouth. "You got that, Sanders?"

"Yeah," came a staticky reply. "I'll check on that."

Benny felt the first stirrings of panic. He wasn't going to be able to overpower the copand Eppes and get away with a busted ankle. He could read it on Eppes' face, could see the relief behind the still-wary gaze. The end was in sight for the agent.

Which meant it was in sight for Benny, too.

"Who's he?" the cop asked, jerking his head towards him.

He opened his mouth, but Eppes spoke faster. "He's a suspect in a murder of a federal witness, and I can personally attest to his kidnapping and attempted murder of a federal agent." Wavering a bit where he stood, he lowered one hand to lean against the rock next to him.

The cop was eyeing him carefully, but apparently decided that he wasn't much of a threat, banged-up as he was. The radio crackled, and a voice spoke into the night air. "I got the badge and the ID. White male, long face, short-cropped black hair, dark brown eyes."

That could describe either one of them, and the cop knew it. He hesitated, then said, "You'd better bring it down here, Sanders."

Eppes gave an exasperated sigh and said, "Call the L.A. FBI office and ask them to put you in touch with Megan Reeves. She's my partner, she can verify who I am." He leaned a little harder on the boulder, his face stark white in the moonlight.

The cop relayed the message, and Benny took advantage of the distraction to slide the key into the cuff that was around the tree trunk and turn it. The quiet click was barely audible underneath the cop's conversation, but as he gave Eppes a sideways glance, he realized the FBI agent had heard it, and he froze. He watched the realization play over the other man's face, and then he barked, "Hold it right there," with more force than Benny would have thought the badly-injured man could manage.

He froze, trying to look innocent. Not that he had a whole lot of experience with that, but it was the only thing he could do. Eppes had raised the gun again, pointing it at him, and a second later, the policeman's voice rang out. "Hey, put that down!"

Eppes was speaking through gritted teeth, and it looked to Benny like he was staying upright by sheer force of will. "He's trying to get loose."

"Yeah, well, as far as I know right now, he's the FBI agent," came the sharp reply. "Put your gun back down."

Benny took advantage of the men's argument to tug the handcuffs loose from the tree. Now he had both hands free, even if one had a handcuff dangling from it. Not that there was anywhere for him to go, anyway, but at least now he could move once he got the chance. Eppes started to say something, but he was interrupted by the radio. "Special Agent Reeves says to ask him what his junior-year batting average was."

Like he's gonna remember that, Benny thought, but he was struck by the expression on the agent's face. He looked genuinely startled, almost afraid for a moment, as though the question had caused him to remember something unpleasant. But he quickly recovered and replied, "Two ninety-three."

There was more conferring with the cop at the other end of the radio, and the man nodded. "All right. See you in a few." Then he shifted his aim to point at Benny. "Take it easy, Agent Eppes," he said. "Help is on the way."

Benny's heart sank as his gaze moved to the FBI agent. He thought about what Eppes had done a moment ago, diving off the side of the mountain in what he had thought had been a suicide jump but had turned out to be a gutsy risk that paid off in spades. He didn't have any such option open to him, not with two guns pointed at him from a few feet away. His ankle felt like it was broken, which meant there was no getting away for him.

His thoughts started to travel further down the path of his future, and a cold, uncomfortable certainty started to form. He'd gotten away with a lot under the WITSEC program, had managed to keep up the lifestyle he was used to by constantly reminding his handlers of how much he was worth to them. But murdering Leah Wexford and now what was sure to go down as kidnapping and assault and attempted murder of a Fed...Eppes was right, there was no way out of that. He was headed for some serious prison time. And since he'd lost his gamble, he would have no protection from what McGurn and the rest of the Albuquerque mob would throw at him. He'd be dead inside of six weeks.

Crouched on the ground, he looked down the barrel of his own gun. Now he understood. A few minutes ago, he'd thought Eppes was crazy for taking a suicidal leap off the side of the mountain. But getting to choose your own death—that was preferable to having it chosen for you. Now he understood. And he wondered if the awareness of his rapidly-impending mortality was as visible on his face as it had been on the face of the man in front of him a few minutes ago.

Benny Natale took a deep breath. Then he met Eppes' eyes. "Special Agent Chris Frederickson," he said clearly. If he wasn't walking away from this, no way some lousy two-faced Fed was getting away free and clear.

He watched for a second as the light dawned on the other man's face. Then a second wave of understanding passed over the agent's features, and he started to shake his head.

Then Benny lunged forward, both hands reaching for his gun.

The bark of the weapon firing was the loudest thing he'd ever heard. The pain that blossomed in his chest was the strongest thing he'd ever felt, instantly chasing away all other sensations and blurring everything together into one hot, fiery mass. He twisted and fell sideways, one hand coming up to his chest, the other grasping at the rocks beneath him as he fell to the ground.

The last thing that registered in his sight was the grim resignation and even sorrow in the FBI agent's eyes as he lowered the weapon. And the fact that he saw that—not vindication, not triumph—made it possible for Benny to forgive the man who had killed him as his eyes slid shut for the last time.

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A/N: Sorry about the dark ending, but it seemed fitting somehow. Don't forget to review…