Title: No Hope
By: Jessica
Pairing: Jake/Calleigh
Rating: High T
Timeline: Part 3 in the Endless Sacrifice series; follows One Wish.
Summary: As much as she wished she could reassure Leah, Calleigh just couldn't find the ability to voice words that she herself had stopped believing in.
A/N: This is the first time I've ever written something quite like this before, and I'm actually surprised how much fun I had with this one, heh. So perhaps there are a few of you out there who will enjoy it as well. :)

October 17th, 2008
-

Silence.

It was overwhelming, the sheer absence of sound in the darkened hallway. It wasn't a peaceful quiet; there was nothing tranquil about the quiet that permeated everything. Crickets, owls, the rustling of trees in the wind - they were all missing, leaving the darkness even eerier than usual.

There was only a single sound that penetrated that silence, a single sound that was almost deafening in its solitude. It was the pounding of a single heart, the steady, predictable rhythm that pulsed with a confidence that its bearer did not share. After all, there was only so much confidence that could be possessed in the darkest part of night by a seven year old girl.

Her footsteps fell on the plush carpet below, the rhythm of her steps even with her heartbeat. She felt almost as though she were floating, carried forward by something other than the will of her own feet. With every step, the dark hallway seemed only to grow longer before her, more intimidating. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew enough to know that she didn't like it.

It wasn't like any other night that Leah Berkeley had awoken; this wasn't like the nights she wandered to the bathroom for a glass of water - or to the kitchen for some secret hot chocolate, if her father remained awake - or to her parents' room if she'd had a bad dream. No, there was just something vastly different about tonight.

And it wasn't just different. Something wasn't right; Leah could feel it. The hallway was too dark; the air too cool. Goosebumps covered her tiny arms, and she was so overcome by the urge to turn around and return to bed. As dark as it was, it had to be late, far too late for a seven year old to still be awake. But something pushed its way in front of that knowledge - it was the childlike curiosity that she had inherited from both of her parents that pushed her on, even as she knew she shouldn't.

With every step, her heart quickened in her chest as an inexplicable sense of fear settled over her. Her lower lip trembled just slightly, but instead of cowering, Leah held her head high, forcing her tiny feet to carry her forward. In her arms she clutched a plush teddy bear, the same one her father had bought for her nearly two years before. Her arms trembled around it as she held on so tightly, almost as though it were her one and only lifeline.

The fear that cloaked her was unlike any she'd ever felt before. This wasn't the dark she was afraid of; it wasn't the same fear that a thunderstorm might elicit in her. This was deeper; chilling. Leah could barely breathe; it felt as though her throat were closing up, silently choking her.

She paused in her footsteps, her ears picking up a small rustling sound. It was intermittent; one second it was there, and then it was gone again. Listening more closely brought the sounds of quiet voices to her ears; hissed words that she could not make out, harsh voices that she could not identify.

As soon as she took one more step, the voices ceased. There was no sound; nothing. Leah hugged her teddy bear closer, anticipating something, but not knowing what.

And then, the air exploded with a deafening crack. Leah gasped in shock, her bear falling to the floor at her feet as her hands went quickly to her ears, hoping to shield them from the sound. It was like thunder, the loudest, most frightening thunderclap she had ever heard.

She was honestly and completely terrified now; a feeling she should never have to feel in her own home. Her teddy bear forgotten, Leah wrapped her arms tightly around herself, her lower lip trembling as she pushed herself forward. "Daddy?" she called out, her shaky voice echoing off the walls and returning to her ears much louder than it had left her mouth.

There was no reply; only silence that served to further confuse and frighten the little girl. Her footsteps by now had brought her to the end of the hallway, but her emergence did nothing to lessen the dark intimidation of the night. Her stomach churned angrily, and Leah bit back that nausea, forcing her every last shred of bravery forward.

A low light filtered in from the kitchen, and Leah slowly padded her way toward that light. There was something hidden in partial shadow, and as Leah closed in, the identity of it became clear to her. There, sprawled on his side on the floor, was her father. The knowledge made her knees wobble, but Leah ignored that, because after all, he was only sleeping, right?

But why on the floor? Something wasn't right; something that infused ice water into Leah's veins. And as she moved ever closer, it took her not long to figure out what. He wasn't moving; his body was perfectly still. His eyes were closed, his face empty of all trace of emotion.

Summoning forth her courage once more, Leah breathed in deeply, though it wasn't enough to keep the tremble out of her voice. "Daddy?" Her legs wobbling, she slowly dropped to her knees beside him, wishing his eyes would come open; wishing his lips would turn upward the way they always did whenever he looked at her. But nothing happened; despite Leah's continued pleas, growing more and more desperate, there was nothing.

Her tiny hand trembled with anxious fear as it lifted almost of its own volition. The other quickly followed suit, though Leah was not aware of what she might find if she touched him. Would he awaken? Or would he simply...not? Leah's lower lip trembled violently, almost as though she already knew the answer before her tiny hands clasped tightly around one of his.

She may have already known the answer somewhere, but she was in no way prepared for the feel of his skin. He was as cold as ice, and though she knew nothing of the physiology of death, Leah somehow intuited exactly what it meant. There was no warmth in his fingers, even as she tugged gently at his hand. No warmth, no gentle grip, no life.

And suddenly, Leah felt herself overcome by the most overwhelming sense of sadness she'd ever felt in her short life.

"No!" she protested loudly, her tiny voice echoing from the stark, empty walls, sounding hollow as it returned to her ears. "It's time to wake up, Daddy! You - you promised we could go to the beach!"

From her deep brown eyes fell the tears that had become too much to hold back; they fell upon her father's hand, the tiny water droplets appearing to hold more life in them than her father did. After all, there was movement in the tiny droplets. For all that Leah tried, she just couldn't will her father to move. No matter how many tears, how many sobs, how many desperate tugs of the hand, he just wouldn't move for her.

It was in that moment that Leah finally had a vague understanding of why her class was never allowed to watch the entire Lion King movie. Her teacher would allow the movie to play to a certain point, and then, both times that they had watched at school, she had fast-forwarded past a certain part. It was one of Leah's favorite movies - she owned a plush Simba cub, though it meant not nearly as much to her as the teddy bear from her father - and she'd known what the scene was before they'd watched the movie for the first time.

For the first time, Leah truly understood. And she never wanted to watch that scene, or even the whole movie, ever again.

She felt like Simba after the stampede; she was Simba, and her father was Mufasa, motionless, wordless, and...the more that she was sure what had happened, the more Leah couldn't make herself imagine the word. While she didn't understand how it worked, Leah did know what death was in the simplest of terms. During kindergarten, the class guinea pig had died, and the entire class had had a small funeral for it. And just recently, Leah remembered the week that a classmate, a friend, had been absent from school after her father had suddenly died.

But all that was different. It just was.

Death wasn't something that could happen to her father...was it?

No. She wouldn't believe it. Despite the tears that filled her eyes, the panic that filled her tiny body, she would not believe it.

He still wouldn't wake, no matter how insistently Leah begged. Her eyes filled quickly with tears once more, and as the sobs began to wrack her tiny body, Leah released her father's hand, wishing only for him to wake and envelope her in his arms. She just wanted him to let her know that all would be okay; that they would get hot chocolate and he would read her a story and gently lull her back to sleep.

But instead, his hand merely fell limply to the ground below, leaving a strange, hollow echo in its wake.

--

Just like any other night, Calleigh's mind was defiantly elsewhere, paying no heed as she aimlessly made her way through the channels on the screen before her. Leah had been in bed for two hours - maybe three, but Calleigh's sense of time was among the first to leave her when she retreated into her nightly, lonely ritual. Darkness had long since swallowed the once cozy home, but Calleigh made no move to turn on more than the lamp on the table next to the recliner.

If she closed her eyes and imagined, Calleigh would swear she could still pick up the faintest trace of his scent deep within the cushioning of the recliner. On the nights that her imagination and loneliness teamed up inseparably, Calleigh could sometimes believe that she felt his warmth there, but only just the slightest, faintest hint. And it was gone as soon as she perceived it - the perception always tore her from her dream-like state, leaving her heart and lungs working overtime as she tried so desperately to seek him out.

It was a fresh burst of heartache all over again when she realized that she'd merely imagined him.

Her eyes were cloudy and unfocused as she stared ahead, continuing her aimless navigation of the far too many channels, most of which were never watched anymore now that Jake was gone. Her mind was empty, only merely processing the tiniest sliver of information before clicking onto the next channel. Click. David Letterman. Click. An infomercial for some kind of kitchen appliance. Click. Football. Click. Law and Order. She didn't care; she only bothered because it gave her something else to concentrate on, even though she wasn't doing an exemplary job at that at all.

Her mind felt so numbed these days, so isolated from the outside world. Details she would have grasped in a split second in the past; sometimes it took her mind what felt like hours to discern now. Calleigh just didn't want to think. She didn't want to think; she didn't want to catch details; she didn't want to grasp reality.

Thoughts, details, reality...it all only led to one integral piece of her mind, her heart. Jake.

Fourteen months he had been gone, and it had yet to get any easier. Every night as she lay down to sleep, she closed her eyes with the silent prayer on her lips, a wish to wake with his arms around her once more. Every night she dreamed of him; of his smile, his dark eyes, his warmth as he held her. And then she would wake, cold, disoriented, and more alone than she'd felt the night before.

She didn't know how long she could keep doing this, playing this blind waiting game. Weeks, months, years...as the time dragged on, it hurt more and more to leave her heart frozen in time, faithfully waiting for the day he would return. If he would return. Calleigh shivered at the thought; if there was one thing she hated most, it was simply not knowing.

If she knew he was dead, that would be it. The end.

But she didn't know, and the idea of letting go when there was still perhaps a sliver of hope caused her even more pain than holding on when all seemed lost. But as much as it hurt, Calleigh knew she would willingly face each day of heartache if only she could take that pain away from her daughter.

With a deep sigh, Calleigh pressed one final button on the remote, plunging the den into silence as the screen went dark. It was a silence that fell heavily around her, suffocating her, separating her from all but her lonely heart. Her legs tucked tightly beneath her, Calleigh wrapped her robe snugly around herself, though by now she knew it lacked the warmth of Jake's arms.

Right on cue, Calleigh gave a deep shiver, feeling as the cold within her raced down her spine, to and from the farthest parts of her body. A lack of warmth meant an irrepressible chill, and in years past, a slight chill in the air had once signified the coming holiday season. Now, it was just another reminder that they would all come and pass again without him.

Another Halloween without a living room filled with laughter, without Jake attempting and failing to sneak away a piece or two of Leah's candy, even though, in the end, she would happily share with him anyway.

Another Thanksgiving without Jake trying to coax Leah to try some pumpkin pie, knowing that as much as he enjoyed the sweet treat, she couldn't help but love it too; without Jake playfully accusing Leah of cheating when she ended up with the larger piece of the wishbone.

And the worst of all, another Christmas without Jake playing Santa, without Leah glowing with the childlike innocence that she was slowly losing hold of, without a Christmas evening marathon of Rudolph, Frosty, and Charlie Brown as all three of them cuddled together beneath a warm blanket in the same recliner that Calleigh rested in now.

The memories of holidays past, combined with the fear that the past was where those memories would forever remain brought a no longer foreign burning to her eyes. For a woman who had once prided herself on controlling her emotions through whatever life threw at her, it was now rare that she made it a full day without at the very least a slight prickling of moisture in her eyes. She didn't know if she could make it through a second set of holidays like this - she didn't know if Leah could make it through.

Leah had already spent a second birthday without her father, exactly a month ago today. Watching her as she tried so hard to pretend that nothing was wrong simply shattered Calleigh's bruised and battered heart. She had watched the little girl sport a brave, even happy face, and even patches of her laughter were genuine that day, her first real "big kid" party - a sleepover with seven of the girls in her first grade class.

Leah didn't have to pretend to enjoy the cake, or the presents, or even the attention. But as the little blonde girl closed her deep brown eyes and blew out the candles on her cake, Calleigh didn't have to wonder what her daughter had wished for.

Calleigh didn't believe in wishes anymore. Wishes upon stars, wishes on pennies tossed into fountains - it all meant nothing to Calleigh. But somehow, despite all the rest that she had lost, Leah still held onto the childlike fantasy, and maybe that was what kept them both going during the very hardest of nights.

A gentle shuffling broke Calleigh away from her thoughts, the sound of tiny, slippered feet - pale pink, just like Calleigh's own slippers - dragging along the plush carpet below. A moment later, her suspicions were confirmed as a quiet, timid voice broke through the oppressive silence. "Mommy?"

There was too much of a tremble in Leah's small voice, and Calleigh couldn't help but frown - she was doing that a lot lately - as once more she was reminded what Jake's absence was doing to them as a family. Leah, once so bubbly, so lively...now a shell of her former self. Twisting her head, Calleigh regarded the little girl with what she hoped was warmth. "What is it, sweetheart?" She opened her arms to her, and Leah didn't resist.

"Can't sleep," Leah murmured, climbing awkwardly into the recliner with Calleigh, refusing to loosen her white-knuckled grip on her teddy bear.

She was shaking, and Calleigh felt her heart break as she cradled her daughter, holding her close. Softly she rubbed her back, though she knew the patterns her fingers drew were less than reassuring. Reassurance wasn't something that came easily to either of them lately. "Did you have a bad dream?" she asked softly.

Leah nodded, burrowing frantically into Calleigh's arms. It was another undeserved occurrence that had begun to plague Leah - nightmares. In the past, her occasional, very infrequent nightmares had consisted of monsters, thunderstorms, normal things that any young child might be afraid of. But in two years, her dreams had been thrust into the dreadful realm of reality, filled with the terrors that might not be just a dream.

Her tiny fingers fidgeted with a stray thread on the paw of her teddy bear, and Calleigh pressed a soft kiss into her daughter's blonde locks, knowing she would give anything just to relax her, to lift her from the doldrums she'd become trapped within. Smiles were fleeting, and when they did appear, they weren't genuine. And Calleigh so missed the way her dark eyes - Jake's eyes - used to light up when she would laugh.

There was a sniffle, a quiet, muffled sniffle followed by the most timid voice Calleigh had ever heard from their little girl. "Mommy?"

Ever gently, Calleigh pushed at the floor with her feet, setting the recliner - Jake's recliner - into a slow, would-be soothing rocking motion. "What is it?" she asked softly, feeling her eyes sting with tears as Leah clutched to her like a lifeline with her free hand.

"Sara - from school," Leah whispered, her tiny, quiet voice almost lost to the night. "She didn't come to school for a week because - because her daddy - he died -"

Leah could say no more, but Calleigh needed no more explanation. Immediately she knew exactly the sort of dream that had plagued her daughter tonight, having experienced a different permutation of it nearly every night. Opening her mouth, Calleigh attempted to reassure Leah that that would not happen, but Calleigh's own voice escaped her.

There was always that fear that lurked deep within her, but tonight, there was just something about it that made it ever more prominent to her. She could feel it within her bones, within every inch of her body. She could barely breathe, and her heart pounded within her chest. Her stomach churned almost agonizingly, and Calleigh couldn't help but feel thankful that she'd eaten nothing since the early evening hours. The chill in her fingers, the ache in her heart...something was wrong, but she had no idea what.

Maybe she was just imagining things; that was always a possibility.

Maybe she was catching the flu, or a stomach virus. It would explain her upset stomach, and her chills, and her edginess.

But Calleigh knew she had no fever. What she was feeling was no virus, and it only got worse and worse as the seconds ticked by. Leah squirmed in her arms, and Calleigh didn't have to wonder whether the little girl was feeling exactly the same feelings. If there was a word, a phrase that could most accurately describe the myriad of thoughts and fears coursing through her body, it was impending doom.

The fact that Leah inexplicably felt the same though was just too much. She was seven years old - merely a little girl. She didn't deserve this; didn't deserve any of it. The last year had been utter hell for her as she'd sifted through the broken promises - intentional or not, it was still the same - left behind in her father's absence.

And though she loved Jake with all of her heart, she couldn't help but silently curse him for doing this to their daughter. Her childlike innocence had been compromised far too early; she was wise beyond her years, and she carried a burden that no child should ever have to bear. She was merely seven years young, way too young to be dealing with all she'd faced in the past two years.

Especially when there were days that Calleigh felt unsure that she herself would survive the grief. And that was what it was - grief. Over a year it had been since she'd last heard his voice; even longer than that since he'd held her in his arms. He could be dead, could've been dead for months, and Calleigh would never know. The thought was chilling, but try as she might, Calleigh could not dispel it. Every day, there was a greater part of her heart that couldn't help believing that was true.

There was an undeniable emptiness in her heart, a void in her life that seemed to grow larger and larger with every passing day. To think that Leah felt it too...

It was just too much for a seven year old child to bear.

Her head tucked tightly beneath her mother's chin, her body tightly enveloped within her arms, Leah found herself secure enough to voice the thought that had plagued her more and more powerfully for much of the recent past. Her voice was small, timid as she spoke, and Leah couldn't hold back the tears that filled her eyes now that the long -hidden fear was now out in the open, echoing through the dark night. "He's - Daddy's never coming home, is he?"

And there were the words that shattered what little remained of Calleigh's heart. Immediately she felt the fresh sting of tears burning her own eyes, and for once in front of Leah, she didn't fight them. "Oh Leah..."

"He's not, is he?"

And to that, Calleigh could reply with nothing but a quiet sob of her own. In her mind, she knew that once she lost it, it would be the end of Leah's hope, if she still held on to any. She knew she should be strong; hide the tears until Leah was settled back in bed and she was alone. But tonight, it was as though the final strand of her strength had been severed, leaving her falling and falling through the endless void in her heart.

As much as she wished she could reassure Leah, Calleigh just couldn't find the ability to voice words that she herself had stopped believing in.

--

An inescapable chill circulated through the heavy air, prickling the hairs at the back of Jake's neck. The alleyway before him was all but pitch-black, the only source of illumination the dull glow of a distant streetlight as the light reflected off the wet pavement. A thick blanket of low clouds covered the sky above, completely blocking out the soft glow of moonlight. A low rumble of thunder echoed off in the distance, though closer than the previous peals. A storm was coming; Jake could feel the impending electricity in the night air.

The humidity in the air clung to him, dampening his unruly hair and sticking to his skin. It would've been welcoming if it had brought the heat along with it, but Jake could perceive no warmth in the night. Involuntarily he shivered, a growing feeling of dread settling over him as he moved.

Something was wrong; he could feel it in the air. Instinctively he reached for his wallet, the one in which he carried nothing more than what was essential to him - an emergency supply of cash, and the photo of his Calleigh and Leah that pulled him through so many darkened days and nights - but it was not there.

Gone. Lost, stolen, left behind - Jake didn't know, but the mere fact that it was gone sent of flood of hopelessness right into the pit of his stomach. It wasn't much, but it was everything that he had brought with him from home. The money was not important; there wasn't much of that in there anyway. Over a year undercover had taken its toll on Jake's current economic status, and then there was the fact that his unplanned trip to the emergency room months ago had drained much of that supply as well.

The lack of what remained wasn't what made Jake's blood drain from his face, though. It was the photograph - the one that he cherished above any other. He'd kept it tucked securely inside, where it remained only seconds away from his desperate fingers. Calleigh...Leah...and now they were gone. The realization put a lump in his throat, and he paused for a moment, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

The sense of grief was overwhelming, almost as though Jake had actually lost the both of them.

And who was to say he actually hadn't? He knew the photograph was gone, but Jake had been gone from home for over a year. How did he know something hadn't happened to Calleigh or Leah? How did he know they were both at home, safe and sound? He didn't. He didn't, and the fact nearly brought him to his knees.

What he wouldn't give to be home with them both right now...

Exhaling deeply, Jake lifted his eyes to the sky above, searching for the strength to continue on when all he wanted to do was go home. Strength was hard to come by these days, even more so now that he didn't even have the visual reminder of their smiles to drive him on. Eyes skyward, he whispered a quiet apology to the night, praying they could realize just how much they both meant to him; that if he had his choice, he would've never left.

But his quiet moment stretched on for a fraction of a second too long. The atmosphere, already charged, changed abruptly, setting all of Jake's senses on alert. Holding his breath, Jake tried to listen above the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, but he heard nothing.

And then, he felt the movement behind him. Although it immediately awakened his flight instinct, Jake had not two seconds between the time he felt the movement and the time by which it was too late. A searing pain shot through the back of his head, forcing him forward, stumbling to his knees in agony. His hands immediately went to the back of his head, an instinctive move that quickly proved detrimental.

This time, he couldn't help but cry out as the pain struck him again. The force behind the hit was incredible, and while Jake was vaguely thankful that his head was somewhat shielded, that meant little to him as he felt the bones in his left hand all but shatter. Damp asphalt swam in and out of his vision, unfocused due to the sudden agony and the resulting moisture in his eyes. He knew the pain of a bullet, even two bullets. He knew the pain of a knife to the abdomen. He knew the pain of being on the losing side of a fight. But none of that compared to this; Jake would swear that in two hits, his skull and a majority of the twenty-seven bones in his hand had been macerated.

And that wasn't even the end of it. He was on his knees, reeling in agony, and then came the force of a kick to his back. Winded, Jake had no choice but to fall forward, his face to the damp pavement below, scraping his cheek in the process. But he was in so much pain as it was that that didn't even register. Gasping for air, Jake felt his body tense, instinct telling him to merely wait for the final blow. The pain would end soon; he was no use to anybody in this shape, so they had no logical choice but to put him out of his misery.

So he lay there, feeling as his attackers - how many of them were there? - surrounded him completely, closing in on him. Who could they be? A group he had somehow wronged while undercover? The recipients of a deal that had fallen through? His line of work was notorious for gaining him several enemies, but there were far too many for him to be able to tell who this was and why they were attacking him.

But Jake didn't have long to wonder. It came from right behind him, the voice of the man who had knocked him to the ground.

"Not quite like being stabbed in the back, but it'll do."

The voice was smooth and cold, infusing ice into Jake's veins as soon as it hit his ears. He knew that voice all too well, and hearing it now, in that particular tone, could only mean one thing. It took a moment for the full realization to hit him, but as it did, Jake felt a fear like none other consume him.

There was only one reason why his own gang would attack him.

They had found him out. Somehow, his secret was out in the open.

The murmurs around him increased in pitch - excited murmurs of anticipation; murmurs that Jake himself had once been a part of. For once, he wasn't excited about the torture to come - or, more accurately, he no longer had to pretend to be excited about it. He knew exactly what was coming, having seen it himself numerous times.

Slowly the voices hushed, and Jake could feel several pairs of eyes shift over him, drawn to the spot just in front of him where the leader of the group stood. It felt almost as though an eternity passed before sound once again reached his ears, even though in reality it was probably only a few seconds.

"Get up."

The voice sent chills down Jake's spine, and though the warning in the command was completely evident to him, Jake ignored him. He wasn't going to cater to their every whim just because they had discovered his secrets. If he was going to die - and he was - he was going to die without voluntarily giving up his dignity.

He couldn't help but cringe as that same voice gave a furious growl. "I said, get up." There was a single snap of fingers, and Jake yelped again as he felt rough hands twisting in his hair, yanking him back to his knees. His head was sharply yanked back, forcing his eyes upward into the cold eyes of Diego, the self-appointed, undisputed leader, the boss of the gang Jake had until now successfully infiltrated. "Nice night for a stroll, huh Max?" he sneered, venom dripping from every mocking word. "Or are you going by Jake now?"

So many times had he heard that particular, condescending tone of voice, but for the first time, just the sound made the blood drain from his face, leaving him pale, dizzy. Because for the first time, it was directed at him, and Jake knew it was not looking good for him. In his head, he had often rehearsed what he would say, what he would do if the time ever came that his real identity should be discovered. But now that that had come to pass, Jake had nothing. Every rehearsal left him, leaving Jake unable to do much but stay silent and hope he could keep his face passive. Maybe there was a way out of this...

"I knew there was dissension among our ranks somewhere," Diego proclaimed, regarding Jake with his icy stare. "I knew somebody wasn't playing by my rules, but never did I think..." He shook his head, seemingly disgusted with himself. But that self-disgust quickly dissipated, replaced once more for the utmost disgust for Jake. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered it was you. My favorite protégé, the best of the best. You showed so much promise...and you turned out to be a fucking cop! No wonder you caught on to everything so quickly, Jake...what is that, short for Jacob?" Diego paused, the rest of the crowd following his lead as he snickered. "Such a flaky, pretty-boy name."

Jake swallowed hard, the look in his eyes hard as he stared up at Diego, unwaveringly. If he was going to survive this, it wouldn't be by admitting the truth. Maybe it wasn't real; perhaps Diego was testing him. It was a wavering slimmer of hope though; Jake already knew that they knew. "I don't know what you're talking about," he defended, his voice far more steady than he felt.

"Look at that; he thinks we don't know the truth." A quick, derisive snicker passed through the group, and Jake bit hard at the inside of his cheek, fighting with every fiber of his being to keep his body from trembling. Just for fun, Jake suspected, Diego brought his arm back, waiting for Jake's eyes to follow the movement. And then, his fist connected with Jake's right eye, setting off another explosion of pain in his head. "That's for being an idiot," Diego whispered venomously, watching in satisfaction as Jake gingerly brought his good hand to his eye. "We'll get to what you get for thinking we were the idiots later..." He grinned. "At the moment, though, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you merely underestimated us."

Jake shook his head, though the movement proved to be a huge mistake. The back of his head felt like it was exploding, and now his eye wasn't that much better. He was in agony, and the simple change in position brought on an attack of nausea. His vision danced in front of him; blurry, unfocused. "What - what the hell are you talking about?"

It was the same question that had earned him a punch to the eye, but a hit for playing dumb was far better than a slow death for admitting that he was a spy.

Diego gave a deep sigh of annoyance, adopting a steady pace in front of Jake. "Maybe you didn't underestimate us," he muttered, a thoughtful finger to the side of his lips. "Maybe I overestimated you. Maybe you're just a cocky, backwoods idiot after all."

If that was Diego's best attempt at trying to rile Jake up, then perhaps Jake had a chance of getting out after all. Those words were tame compared to some of what he'd faced before. But then, as Diego paused in his pacing momentarily, a cold glint flashed in his eyes, and Jake felt his heart drop to around the level of his stomach. He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry with unease.

"You see, the thing is," Diego began conversationally, resuming his light pacing. "Once you have a clear picture of something, it's easy to put two and two together. And that's how I found out you'd been playing with us the entire time." He stopped, smirking down at Jake. "It's your own fault, really. If you knew anything, you would know not to leave something in plain sight if you don't want it stolen." He grinned. "I bet your wife wouldn't set her purse down and simply walk away. I mean, that's just stupid."

"My what?" Jake sneered, though in his mind and with all of his heart he gave a silent, profuse apology to Calleigh. He couldn't acknowledge her, just in case Diego was bluffing. His acknowledgement could be her death, and, living or dead after tonight, Jake couldn't have that on his conscience.

Diego gave a hearty laugh, finding an unknown amusement in Jake's denial. "Your wife, dumbass." He grinned, a real grin. It wasn't fake; he wasn't faking his cruel enjoyment. "She's quite famous in the state of Florida, no? Decorated, flawless career, top firearms expert in the state, maybe even the nation. All I had to do was know where to look, and there would be her name. She was easy to find, especially since the picture you had of her was so pristine."

The photograph; his most treasured possession during these days of his life. Now Jake knew exactly where it had gone, and he wished so dearly that it had merely been lost, instead of falling into the wrong hands. All of his secrets may as well be written on that tiny photograph. He might live a combination of lives; one undercover, and one above ground, but anyone who gave a second glance knew that Jake's entire world was contained within that photograph.

Of course, Calleigh was not anonymous by any means. Someone with far fewer connections than Diego could figure out the connection there. Calleigh's reputation was not something Jake had considered when he'd placed that photograph in his wallet.

And now, as he realized with an almost debilitating sense of guilt, he had brought her into danger, just so he could carry a bit of comfort with him into the line of fire.

Diego was still speaking, intent on pointing out all the ways that Jake's lack of forethought had worked against him. "But that's not the only way I put two and two together, you see." Diego paused, nodding his head slightly. "I needed more than just Calleigh Duquesne - Calleigh Berkeley, whatever." He shook his hand dismissively. "I mean, there was always the chance...but anyway," he ended the train of thought before it began. "Basically I needed more proof, just in case the proof I had was in any way disputable."

Jake remained silent, refusing to give into the bait. Diego wanted him to question him; he wanted to pique Jake's curiosity. That was just how he worked; goad the victim until he just couldn't stand it any longer and had to ask what the man was on about. It was the one good thing about having worked so closely with Diego - Jake knew what to expect.

Unfortunately, that was also the bad thing. He did know exactly what to expect, and it was knowledge that chilled him to the core. And, even though he knew what to expect tonight, the knowledge would never be enough to prepare him for it.

"Once I had everything I needed to know about your pretty wife, I moved my investigation in a different direction. And you know, it turned out to be far easier than I ever expected. You'd be surprised at how easy it is to find yearbook photos," Diego proclaimed cockily, a smirk at his lips.

"Yearbook photos?" Jake scoffed, not seeing how his high school photographs could reveal his identity to the men before him now. That was ages ago, and Jake knew for a fact that he didn't look a thing like his senior photos anymore; he was older, wiser, more weathered. And this gang...not that Jake would ever mutter it to their faces, but none of them were really that bright. He highly doubted that any one of them could possibly look at him before them, as Max Logan, and be able to tell that he was the same person as the eighteen year old Jake Berkeley reflected in his high school yearbook.

And then it clicked. With a sickening lurch, Jake felt the bile rise at the back of his throat as the realization settled in.

Not his own yearbook photos.

Leah's.

He hadn't thought of her yearbook pictures because he'd never actually seen them. He'd left home for this assignment just mere days after Leah had started kindergarten, well over a year ago. Her first class pictures, her first yearbook...Jake had missed all of it.

The cruelty of the situation was just unbearable - it wasn't enough that he'd never gotten the pleasure of seeing his daughter's first class pictures, but he was having those pictures used against him now. The blood drained once more from his face as the implications fell over him, leaving him ghostly pale and feeling a mere two inches tall. The fear was present in his eyes for a second too long before he could successfully mask it, and as the two men closest to him glanced to each other with a grin on their lips, Jake knew it was over.

Still, he forced himself to swallow that fear, knowing it was the only way he could possibly stay alive. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Diego snickered, a low rumble that slowly made its way around the circle. "Oh really? Perhaps I should refresh your memory." He smiled coldly, and it was all Jake could do to hold his head up, to force himself to meet those icy eyes. "Oceanside Elementary; Ms. Drinnon's kindergarten class, if I remember correctly," he began, once more adopting a slow pace back and forth before Jake. "But that was last year. She should be a couple months into the first grade by now, right?" He paused, almost as though waiting for some kind of acknowledgement from Jake, though none came. "Cute little sweetheart, really. All that blonde hair, those deep brown eyes...what was her name? Lindsay? Lauren? Maybe it was Leslie?" Diego paused again, taking in the snickers around him. He pursed his lips, almost as though in deep thought, but Jake knew better than that. He knew exactly what was coming, and it made his stomach churn angrily, waves of nausea rolling over him. "Oh, no, I remember now," Diego continued, his cold smile widening. "Leah. Leah Berkeley."

The way his voice wrapped around his daughter's name made Jake's stomach churn. He felt lightheaded; every inhale and exhale seemed to drain him of energy, leaving him struggling to stay passive, to keep himself from reacting. It was impossible, though, when just the sound of his daughter's name made him want nothing more than to lift her into his arms and never let go. His heart literally ached, something he'd always thought to be mere fiction until he'd spent so much of his life away from both of them.

From the undeniable look of agony that filled Jake's eyes, Diego knew he had struck a chord. He grinned deviously; only a bit further would he have to push before Jake was really squirming under his torment. "And what about Calleigh, hmm? He closed his eyes, giving a low, drawn-out hum of pleasure. "God, I don't know how you ever pulled it off, but you sure scored with that one. Those eyes, that teasing grin, that tantalizingly sexy body..."

Jake bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, hard enough to draw blood. It was all he could do to keep from growling in rage; suddenly, the pain in his head and his hand were forgotten, and all Jake wanted to do was crack the other man's jaw with his fist. Somehow, though, he managed to keep himself in check, knowing that making the wrong move would be the same as signing the death warrants of his wife and daughter.

"Hmm, no comment?" Diego taunted, his eyes flashing dangerously. "How would your beautiful wife feel to know that you ignored the opportunity to acknowledge her presence? That you pretended that you don't know who she is?" Shaking his head, Diego gave a faux look of disappointment. "You have forsaken the sacred promise of marriage!"

Resisting the urge to clench his fists, Jake fought back the surge of rage that rose within him. He knew what Diego was trying to do; he was trying to get Jake to admit it. To admit that he had played them; to admit that he was a traitor. If he looked at his odds, he was going to die anyway, so what did it matter whether he admitted or not?

A low snicker passed through the crowd, and Jake could feel eight, ten, maybe more pairs of disdainful eyes looking down upon him. Still he resisted, his eyes defiant as he stared up at Diego with a look that could've killed.

His silence, however, seemed only to rile the other man up even more. His evil grin widened as he exchanged glances with the surrounding crowd. "My, my," Diego sneered, a low chuckle on his lips. "Calleigh would be disappointed. Hurt. But that's okay; you know why?" Again he paused, drawing out the torture. And that's what it was to Jake - sheer torture, almost as bad as the physical pain. "I'll be there for her, for both of them. Calleigh won't miss you too much, and certainly not for long. I'll make sure of that, Jacob."

An evil glint passed through his eyes before he continued, and Jake couldn't help but shudder. "I bet she has the softest skin ever; I can just imagine getting my hands on her...all over her sweet, warm body. And I bet she smells so sweet, like vanilla, or maybe strawberries, or something equally amazing...so perfect."

The blood was boiling in Jake's veins, infusing him with a fire of rage that he had only seldom ever felt before. He found it hard to breathe; almost impossible. It was some unknown force of will that kept him from losing it as Diego continued, intent on destroying, taking away what meant most to him. "I bet her eyes change color, don't they? Light green most of the time, but a sparkling emerald when she laughs, and then a deep, darkened shade of jade...in the bedroom. Am I right, Jacob?"

Still, Jake refused to answer. Diego's descriptions were perfect, and the memories sent a dagger straight into his heart. He missed the soft cadence of Calleigh's unique laugh; he missed that playful sparkle. Missed them so badly that just the memory ripped his heart apart.

"Still not going to answer me? Well, that's okay, because I'll be finding out soon enough." At that, Jake's head snapped upward, a menacing glare in his dark eyes. He didn't need to hear Diego's next words to know exactly what he was thinking. "You know, I can already see her writhing beneath me in my bed, her nails raking down my back as she begs me for more, as she screams out my name over and over..." Knowing exactly what his words were doing to Jake, Diego licked his lips, humming in approval at the picture he'd conjured up in his mind. "I'll have her forgetting all about you in no time - she won't remember anything but my name."

And that was where he couldn't help but snap. The idea of the other man with Calleigh...his Calleigh; it was just too much. He saw red; pure rage clouded his eyes as he lunged to his feet, unable to stop himself. "Fuck you!" Jake spat angrily, fists outstretched as he leapt at Diego, wanting nothing more than to rip the other man apart. But before his fists had the chance to connect with his jaw, Jake found himself roughly thrown back to the ground by two other men.

He lay there, stars floating in his vision as he struggled to find his breath. As his vision cleared, Jake found himself staring up at Diego, who still wore that same evil grin on his lips. "Wrong move, Berkeley," he whispered, and before Jake had the chance to comprehend his words, he was reeling by the sudden agony of a steel-toed boot in his side. "You just earned your little girl a bullet through her head."

The vision flashed so vividly through Jake's mind, and it was all he could do to fight back the ensuing nausea. "No," he gasped, his lungs protesting as he forced himself to breathe. "Please...no!"

"A-ha!" The triumph in Diego's smug voice was immense, and just for spite he shoved his boot once more into Jake's stomach, leaving him sputtering on the ground. "So finally he acknowledges his other life." With rough hands, he gripped Jake's arms and pulled him forcefully to his knees again, grinning slightly at the dazed look in the traitor's eyes. "So I guess you don't like that picture too much?" he goaded, forcing Jake to look at him. "Little Leah Berkeley, tears streaming from her eyes as she cries for her daddy, just before I squeeze the trigger and put an end to those desperate cries? What about the blood as it pours from her head, surrounding her motionless, lifeless body?"

It was too much. Jake knew Diego; knew he would make good on his promises. And Jake would not let Leah become a victim of the life he had chosen so many years before. Leah was innocent. "Please, just leave her alone - leave them alone." He swallowed hard, fighting back the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him from the combination of that gruesome visual and the agony that consumed every inch of his body. "I'll do whatever - whatever you want; I'll tell you anything you want to know. Just please; please leave them -"

"Shut up!" Diego hissed, taking the opportunity to crack his fist against Jake's jaw, knocking him once more to the pavement. "I didn't tell you to speak...despite how nice it is to hear you beg."

The heavy scent of blood filled his nose, assaulting him more than it ever had in the past due to his weakened state. His lip was already swelling, and Jake didn't need to lift a hand to discover the blood there, mingling with the still slowly flowing blood from the various cuts on his face. His arms shaking, Jake attempted to pull himself up, a nearly impossible feat with only one good hand. Before he could make any progress at all, a sharply-delivered kick hit his jaw just inches from where he'd just taken a fist.

And that time, he couldn't help but let out a yelp of agony as he felt his jaw pop. The pain was almost as blinding as the first hit to the back of his head, and the only vision that kept him from praying for death was that of his wife and daughter, standing lonely at the foot of his grave. Even if he felt the pain would kill him, the way out via death just was not worth the pain it would put his family through.

His eyes watering, Jake merely lay on his back, breathing laboriously. At his right side, he felt Diego kneel, but Jake didn't react until he felt a cold finger tracing along his broken jaw. He couldn't help but flinch, but unsure was he of whether from pain or disgust. Diego smirked, his cold eyes boring down upon Jake. "Oh look; I broke the pretty boy's face," he taunted, eliciting a fresh round of snickers from the surrounding crowd. "You know," he continued, speaking once more to Jake, "you should really think before you act. But oh wait, I forgot - thinking wasn't something you ever did. It was part of what made you so good - you act on instinct, not thought. Saves a lot of time." He smirked, shoving Jake's head to the side, relishing the yelp of pain that the move elicited. "Too bad it couldn't save your life."

Diego rose, planting a foot firmly upon Jake's broken hand. Again Jake couldn't help but cry out in agony, feeling his eyes water as the pain consumed him. There wasn't a part of his body that wasn't in pure anguish, and even with that he knew it would only get worse before the pain finally ended. At this point, it was only the thought of his family that kept him from giving up, from giving into the darkness that swam in his periphery. It would be so easy to close his eyes and fade into unconsciousness; it would only be so easy to let go, if not for the hearts he knew he would break...more so than he already had.

A low rumble of thunder echoed through the sky overhead, and Jake gazed skyward, his vision cloudy as he prayed futilely for rain. The feel of rainwater over his aching, wounded body...he could only imagine the soothing effect on his worn out joints. But the clouds merely threatened, or rather, taunted him. There would be no relief from the agony; relief would only come when they finally killed him.

The crowd around them was getting restless, a low murmur traversing through the ranks. An annoyed Diego let out a breath, waiting for the noise to cease. "I think we're almost done here," he decided quietly, glancing to the broken man at his feet. "There's just one more thing I want to know..."

He nodded his head pointedly toward Jake, and before his mind could even process anything, Jake felt his body heaved upward, setting off a new wave of nausea, not to mention agony. He was pulled up by the shoulders, almost roughly enough to dislocate his shoulders. But Jake didn't get a chance to wonder about that. As soon as he was lifted, he was shoved face-first against the nearest wall, knocking the breath out of him and quite possibly breaking his nose.

Holding his eyes tightly closed, Jake struggled for breath as Diego watched amusedly for a moment. "What's the matter, Jacob? After all you've done to other people, you can't take the same pain?" Reaching out, he tightly fisted a handful of Jake's hair, yanking him back with a velocity that made his head spin. With a devious grin, Diego lifted a foot, placing a hard, calculated kick to the back of Jake's knees. Jake buckled, the only forces holding him up that from the wall and from the other man's grip on his hair.

He was tired, so tired. Sticky with humidity, sticky with drying blood. And it was nowhere near being over. Diego twisted Jake's head, turning the other man's eyes toward him. "So did you think we were stupid, cop?" he hissed, fire in his eyes. "Did you think we wouldn't figure it out?"

Jake swallowed, utilizing his last remaining thread of cockiness, even though he knew it wasn't such a good idea. "Took you almost two years," he choked out defiantly.

Immediately, Jake sputtered as Diego shoved an elbow into his back. "I've put up with your cocky ass for way too long; I'm sure as hell not gonna deal with it now. Nobody lies to us and lives." With that, Diego roughly released him, letting Jake fall limply to the asphalt below, his eyes full of utter disdain as he gazed down upon him. Jake's body ached so deeply; every breath felt as though it might be his last. But he knew there was still more to come. He was still alive; they weren't finished with him yet.

Or maybe Diego was."I've had enough of this," he spat, taking a few steps away. "That'll be the last time I ever trust anybody who's breathing." Shaking his head, he continued to walk away without a look back. Foolishly, Jake chose that moment to relax the tension that had built up in his muscles, but almost as soon as he did, Diego paused. Without looking back, he gave one low, undeniable order before he was gone.

"Kill him."

And Jake expected that to be the end. He expected bullets. One, two, maybe more if they were feeling rather torturous tonight. He expected knives to pierce his skin, slicing open his arteries, puncturing through his lungs, his heart, ripping his broken body into shreds.

But what he didn't quite expect was the torture he received instead.

There were no guns; no knives. Instead, it was more of the same. More of the same agony, the same fists and steel-toed boots, the same rough arms yanking him upward, unwilling to let him surrender on the ground below.

Calleigh's greatest fear through every moment in their relationship had always been that the UC life would kill him.

And now, it finally was. This was how he was going to die. If he made it out of this, it would truly be a miracle, one he would never deserve.

By the time the blessed rain began to fall from the sky above, Jake felt as though there were no single bone in his body that remained unbroken; no single muscle that remained intact. He was bruised, battered, and bloodied; his entire body was in the most fiery agony he had ever experienced. And he couldn't move. Between the exhaustion and the agony, all Jake could do was lay there and take the beating, keeping a picture of his family at the forefront of his mind. It was the only thing that could hope to soothe the pain.

It began as a drizzle, then sprinkles, slowly growing in speed and intensity. And as the skies finally opened up above him, Jake vaguely felt his body shoved into the wall one more time. Limply he fell the ground below, and as the raindrops fell angrily upon his face, stinging every cut on his battered body, he could hear the snickers and the footsteps trailing away, growing fainter and fainter.

They were done.

It was over.

And he had survived the initial onslaught.

But though he had that small comfort, it was no relief at all. His body was crumpled in agony, lost in a dark alleyway, in the middle of God-knows-where. Survival, he knew, would count on somebody finding him and taking mercy on him.

And Jake nursed no delusions of that happening.

All his hope was depleted; he was never going to make it home. He would never be able to kiss Calleigh again, or hold her in his arms and breathe her in. He would never get to watch Leah grow up; he would never walk with her down the aisle, preparing to give her away to the love of her life.

It was the realization that made his eyes sting, not with inflicted pain, but with unshed tears. His life, all that he had fought for, came down to this moment. All his foolish mistakes had left him here. Alone, in the worst pain of his life, unlikely to see the light of another day.

His vision was blurring; his limbs were growing heavy, and Jake knew he was slowly slipping away. Whether it be into death, or merely into unconsciousness...well, Jake would know which it was if he woke up again. For now, he was too exhausted; his body cried out for relief, and the dizziness and the fire burning through his veins dictated the lucidity of his mind.

And then, the lifeline to which he had clung seemed to slip right from his hands, plunging him slowly into darkness. His body slumped against the alley wall, Jake gave an agonized whisper of Calleigh's name before the last of his strength was gone.

And just as he finally allowed his eyes to fall closed, the ragged, torn photograph of Calleigh and Leah, carried by a low, gusty breeze, came to rest just a few inches from his closed eyes.