Tobias Fornell blanked out to the incessant yappings of his wife from the phone as he sat infront of the tv, watching the football match distractedly. Beside him sat an empty plate, the gravy sitting on it forgotten and thickening, beside the house phone on loudspeaker.

He had just finished a tough case where he had tracked down an international criminal by the name of Yoweri Musevinii, a drug lord and a member of the mafia, who had been suspected of selling child sex slaves through America.

Fornell sighed, leaning forward as the match got more interesting, the two teams playing desperately in the last five minutes.

There was a crash in the front of the house, and he reached for his gun, sitting on the table beside him. Slowly, he straightened, moving slowly towards the door.

Darkness had just begun to descend, giving everything a washed out look. Carefully, Fornell paused, hand on the door knob before throwing it open and pointing his gun at his car. There in the drivers seat sat a dark haired, green eyed boy, who wasn't looking at him. The sleek black car drifted backwards out of the driveway, leaving tire marks across the grass as he spun.

Fornell raised his gun to fire it at the car. The boy spotted him, and hit the gas, the car shooting away down the street before he managed to get a shot at it.

Dejectedly, he sighed, dropping his arms. He was going to be ridiculed by his colleagues at work.

Alex shifted through the gears, swearing slightly. Of all the car's he had to 'borrow', it was that of an agent of some sort.

Quickly, he turned left, away from the city, heading back towards open land, only spotting the car when it smashed into his right side.

Swearing, he was flung forwards, the metal crumpling as he was pushed across the road. His foot pressed involuntarily against the pedel and the car spun, bringing him round the other side of the forgein vehicle dangerously, as he tried to control it. The car that had slammed into his turned, shortly followed by three others as they began to chase him thorugh the streets.

Cursing his luck, he took a one way street the wrong way, narrowly missing cars and a young couple crossing the road. The two cars nearest to him missed the turning, having to pull to a stop as the others piled through the tight space.

Alex sped up, feeling confident he could loose them, until the back window shattered. With a cry, he ducked, the car swerving wildly as he shot out at an intersection, ignoring the shreiks of horns as he flew by. One of the cars behind him misjudged, slamming into the side of an eighteen wheeler and going up in flames, sending people screaming for cover. The remaining three carried on unhindered.

The wind whistled through the back window, dampening any noise that he possibly could have heared. Besides the constant thud of bullets hitting the car of course.

The night hid most of the procession from him as he weaved between cars and down streets heading towards the outskirts. Two of the cars sped up, drawing abreast of him as he reached the first open stretch of road he had seen since he had run away.

With a glimpse to his left, he saw the passenger of the black car lift the hand gun, arm out of the window, barrel closer than comfortable. Alex twisted the car, slamming it into it, and the man, cars colliding with a crunch and a howl from the man as his arm was crushed horrifically. Wincing, Alex looked away as the car spun out of the way, blood dripping down the side.

There was a clunk from the engine, and Alex looked down towards the bonnet of the car, eye's wide with shock and realisation. With a cry, he hit the breaks, ignoring the car swerving behind him as he opened the door and lept towards that grassy hill that marked the end of the land. The car, having swung out of control, sailed over the bump at the base of the bridge, careering into the railing and into the cold dark waters below.

Alex sat up slowly, watching the last two cars pull to a stop on the bridge. They waited for less than a minute, before turning and heading back the way they had come, convinced he hadn't survived.

He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, relieved, before sobering. He'd gone to far out of the city, and now he had to walk back to his meeting place.

Fornell sighes, coat slung over his arm as he shut the door behind him in darkness. Public transport had it's downside, especially when it meant it took him at least an hour longer than necessary. Since his car had been taken three days earlier.

He had been right when he'd thought that he'd have the piss taken out of. Apparently the entire office had heard, and he couldn't help but grown at the jokes that had been made. At least it had stopped when they'd found the car, destroyed in the main state canal.

Moving easily in the dark, he reached for the light switch, turning it on and moving in to the kitchen, setting his coat over the back of the chair. He moved round the figure standing at the bar, reaching past him to get the mug that sat on the side before freezing.

The teenager smiled at him, mug halfway to his mouth. "I believe your car was stolen."

Fornell blinked, taking in the blonde hair. "How did you know?"

"I was the one who stole it. Well, borrowed it, even though I couldn't quite get you it back in the same condition. Sorry about that."

He narrowed his eye's. "You have blonde hair."

The boy shrugged. "I'm naturally blond. You can't trust everything, Agent Fornell."

Fornell stepped backwards, pulling his gun out of the holder at his waist, ignoring the shock at the kid knowing his name. "Put your hands up where I can see them. Your under arrest for stealing my car."

The boy laughed. "Well that sounded impressive." He looked down at his watch with a frown. "Whilst I'd love to try out an American prison again, I'm afraid I don't have time. I'm sorry again about the car."

Fornell brandished the gun tightly in his face. "Your not in a position to say otherwise. Put your hands on your head."

He sighed, and took a gulp of the coffee in the mug, putting it down on the side. "I've already told you I can't." He moved away, heading out of the kitchen and into the living room, towards the hallway.

Following him, Fornell growled. "Stop moving, put your hands on your head. I will force you too if I need to."

The kid laughed, looking over his shoulder, but stopping never the less. "If you think you can take me, old man. I'd welcome the challenge."

He shot to the left of his head, close enough to feel, and still the kid did not flinch. Instead he sighed.

"You're going to make me miss my flight. Blunt will kill me if I don't make it to the COBRA meeting. Again."

There was something in his head that stirred at his words, something connected to work, but not recent. Mentally, he shook himself, stepping closer to the boy.

He never saw the hit that knocked him out.

Alex sighed as he looked down at the agent. Damn he was persistant. Pausing to look once more at the time, he shrugged, and lifted the man, suprised at how easy he was to drag to the couch in the room. Or sofa, as the American would have called it.

With a small grin to himself, he switched off the light and moved soundlessly to the door, closing it behind him quietly, knowing it was unlikely that their paths would cross again.

The car had been an unexpected bonus, appearing on his drive one day when he woke up, with two CIA agents and a letter. The former had handed him the keys with a shrug and a longing look at the car. The older of the two had smiled, patting the other on the back, making some joke about not being paid enough.

Fornell had been suprised. The letter had explained that the boy had been discovered suring his undercover mission, and had already been chased halfway across Washington. It also said that he hadn't realised they had been so close on his trail and had hoped to return the car in pristine condition as soon as he was able to.

Of course, that hadn't happened, so he got a new one instead. And a posh, expensive new one at that.

Fornell, simple by nature, knew next to nothing about cars. But even he knew that it was nice, and cost a lot, from the proper leath finished inside to the expensive electronics it contained.

Funnily enough, the letter had ended with the kid telling him he could sell the car if he wanted to, to get one like his old one back. Laughing quietly to himself, he turned back towards his house, unable to hide the grin that had spread across his face. This once, he decided, he would like to keep something flashy and expensive. Just to annoy his wife.

Oh he was going to enjoy showing of his Brand New Car.

(A/N) And there it is! The promised one-shot that you've been waiting for :D Don't worry, if you have read this and you have no idea it's companion story. It take's place before Some Things Just Don't Work Out, so shouldn't make too much of a difference. :D R&R