PART THREE

Liz yanked her hand back from his face as she watched him flinch reflexively at her touch.

"Are you ok?" she asked gently, as he squinted, trying to move away from her.

"It's ok, I am not going to hurt you," she said quietly. "What are you doing in here?"

She received no reply, only the instinctive movement away from her. Again she was struck with the thought that he was afraid.

"Ok, ok," she said. "I'll move back a bit." She slowly moved a small distance away.

She heard the rapid harshness of his breathing, as he tried to get up and again fell to the floor.

He looked at her with a mix of fear and distrust.

"What am I doing?" she muttered to herself. "I should just go inside and call the FBI, and I'll be done with this."

She heard the harsh intake of his breath as he heard what she said.

He shook his head violently, trying to crawl around her to get out of the shed.

Instinctively, she grabbed his arm to stop him and the mere pressure of her hand threw him off balance and he dropped harshly to the floor, his head hitting the hard cement.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," she said as she realized she had caused him to hit his head, and she laid her hand on his arm.

And then, suddenly, she felt his body start to tremble, and she felt the silent sobs that wracked his body. He looked so lost, so miserable lying there.

"Shh," she said quietly, and she tentatively reached out and stroked his hair.

"It's going to be ok," she said softly. "You didn't do what they said you did, did you?"

He felt the tiny fingers gently touch his hair, stroking it. Warm hands. It was so cold on this floor. He didn't understand. She said she was going to call them, yet her hands were touching him, and they weren't hurting him. And then she asked a question, with that curiously wonderful voice, and he couldn't answer her. He didn't know what the monsters had told her. He turned his head and looked at her, cheeks wet with tears.

"You didn't kill anyone, did you," she said. "I looked. There was nothing in the papers. But they want you for something," she said thoughtfully.

"What is it?" she asked, and he couldn't answer her. He couldn't tell her that he was a monster himself. If he told her that, she would call, and he would be back in hell. So he laid his head back down on the floor. She would call anyway.

Liz watched him lay his head back down and frowned inwardly. Perhaps he didn't kill anyone, but maybe he had done something else terrible. And if that was the case, why was she sitting here with him? He certainly looked as if he was guilty of something.

She didn't have time to think of it any further, as a shadow loomed over them and he again tried to move further back into the shed, his eyes wide with fear.

"Step away from him Miss," a deep voice said as she looked up. It was Jeffrey.

"Get up and go back inside," he growled. "I'll take it from here. You took a big chance in not calling me. He could have killed you."

Slowly Liz stood up.

"Leave, now." He commanded.

Liz looked at him for a moment and slowly left the shed. She started to walk back up the alley, knowing this was now out of her hands. She was stupid to get involved. Jeffrey was right, she told herself. He probably could have killed her.

She got to the back door and heard a mighty thump and froze. An angry voice said something unintelligible and without a second thought, she made her way silently back to the shed. She had to know.

"You stupid little son of a bitch!" Jeffrey grated from the shed, and she heard another thump.

"Did you think you could get away? Did you really think we wouldn't find you? Your ours!" he yelled.

Liz slowly peeked into the doorway of the shed. Jeffrey had the young man pinned up against the wall, his hands at his throat. His face was an unnatural deep red, even in the dim. Jeffrey took one hand away from his throat, and punched him in the stomach. The young man didn't fight back.

"You've caused me more trouble than you're worth. I'm finished with you. We have the others, so I am going to get rid of you. I don't care what Pierce says. I don't give a shit about the progress of his experiments on you. It's over!" he yelled and pulled his gun from it's holster.

"Say your prayers you little prick," Jeffrey said, holding the gun to his face. Liz caught a glimpse of the young man's face, full of fear and resiation.

Silently, rapidly she made her decision. She looked frantically against the wall of the shed and found what she was looking for, a heavy wrench her had kept out here for the plumbing. Quickly, she grabbed it and rushed behind Jeffrey. She raised it silently and brought it down on his neck with blunt force. She heard a sickening snap, and Jeffrey's grip loosened on the young man's throat, dropping to the floor in a heavy heap. Liz's eyes widened, as she stood there in shock, staring at the man on the floor, not believing what she just done.

Her gaze turned to the young man still against the wall, panting, looking at her with a mix of confusion and fear.

Liz's hand flew to her mouth as the young man slid down the wall of the shed, slumped to the floor, choking.

"Oh my God, what did I do?" she said, in horror.

*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%

Liz struggled to the door of the restaurant, the bulk of the fugitive's weight on her as she slowly set him down to the ground.

"Wait here," she said, taking another nervous glance at the shed, which she had again locked, with Jeffrey's body inside.

Don't panic, she told herself as she tried to control her breathing. She was in real trouble, she knew it. She was still horrified that she had killed a man. And he *was* dead. She checked his pulse. All her dreams of college and a career were about to go down the drain. She had to do something.

Quickly, she looked inside. Tom had gone. He left a note for her to put out the new napkin holders and to lock up. The napkin holders were the least of her problems right now, she thought dismayed. Her whole life had changed in the space of fifteen minutes. She had done what they had accused the fugitive of doing. And she had killed an FBI agent. She now understood crimes of passion. She didn't even think before she acted. She knew that the man on the ground outside would be dead right now if she hadn't done what she had done. But she had killed someone!

She went to the door again and helped the young man up. As she pulled his arm over her shoulder, he turned his head and looked at her, his gaze a mask of such misery it almost took her breath away.

She struggled with the door again, helping him inside, taking him to the couch in the break room, and gently helped him sit.

He looked panicked, terrorized, and in a great amount of pain. Already, angry purple welts were appearing on his jaw, and he held his hand tightly to his stomach.

He hadn't done anything wrong. Of that now she was sure. They were experimenting on him, a human! How could they? She couldn't fathom what he must have been through.

She gently took his hand.

"It's going to be all right. Everything's going to be ok," she said gently.

She needed help, and fast. She ran to the phone and called the only person she knew would help her unquestioningly.

"Alex?" she said tearfully. "Something terrible's happened. I need your help...."