Still not mine, but I can't really say that's a surprise considering what I do to them when I have custody.
i.
After the questioning, their first solid lead takes another six days to get and they haven't seen their own homes in over a week. Some kind of invisible tether that binds the four of them together won't allow them to leave each other's sight for longer than it takes to go to the bathroom. Not one of them has tried to break it because it might just be the only thing holding their world together now.
They spend that first week in the war room, trying, hoping, praying, never ceasing to try and break through the haze of uncertainty. Their leads wrung dry and handed to the prosecutors, Colby and Liz pick Billy Cooper up from LAX and try and piece together the shattered fragments even as they hunt down every possible cause for the implosion.
Mornings, afternoons, nights, nearly every waking moment is spent at the office, but whatever sleep they get is curled together like a litter of newborn puppies in the garage at the Craftsman. They doze as Alan watches with weary eyes while Charlie breaks before his chalkboards and Liz blames herself for relenting in regards to his involvement.
Billy Cooper stares at the sky from the doorway or window because he might be there but without Don, he doesn't belong.
Their days and nights pass in a haze, a frenzy, running on adrenaline and coffee, surrounded by files and tips phoned in by citizens claiming to have seen the van from the abduction.
On day ten, LAPD officers on a tip find the van abandoned near the coast, giving them partial prints, some drops of blood and a rag soaked in chloroform.
David's phone is the one that rings when forensics call to tell them that the blood matches Don and Ian. It is impossible to feel relief even though the department dregs up what little positivity they can at the first physical evidence as they try to match the partials to their dishearteningly staggering suspect list.
Their lives revolve around the war room and the garage. Alan's eyes are wearier and there are boards in the corner that are covered in P vs. NP. Billy remembers Don's weary explanation of those dark days before Margaret's passing and it makes him irrationally angry enough to remove himself back to the FBI offices.
Amita and Larry help them try and narrow the tips down but not even the CIs they hunt down can tell them who is behind the setup.
No one on the streets is taking credit and they are beginning to fear the worst.
A kidnapper without ransom demands is the worst kind, one of the other agents says quietly as the second week wanes and the circles under everyone's eyes grow darker and larger. Colby, Liz and David pretend they don't hear the comment but Nikki's hand spasms around the cup of coffee halfway to her mouth. She and Liz spend seven minutes in the bathroom with a spare blouse and if their eyes are a little bloodshot when they leave, no one mentions anything.
It's a Tuesday morning, day thirteen, when a tech skids into the bullpen shouting that there's a man on the phone who has Ian's badge, Don's wallet and the waterlogged remains of a cell. Someone shouts to put it through. Seconds later, the phone rings and Assistant Director Wright answers.
The techs begin establishing a trace on the signal while Nikki's back hits David's chest and Colby's fingers wrap briefly around Liz's.
SWAT is rolling the second the techs get a lock and the moments it takes them to get down to the carpark are enough for hope to light in their hearts.
ii.
They arrive to find the quivering, bumbling man who had called them waiting. He breaks down at the sight of the armoured vehicles and firearms and cries that he'd found them in a storm drain just outside an abandoned building and he'll take them there, he promises.
Vests and glasses and backup weapons are donned and David takes point. The building is small enough that there is cover at every exit.
Agent Tim King and his team break down the door and screams pierce the air as throngs of children scramble for the exits only to find them blocked by armed agents in Kevlar with a uniform, unforgiving fury in their faces. It softens only a little as the children immediately respond to the big yellow and white letters offering salvation.
A small girl skids to a stop just in time to avoid Colby's knees. He crouches and smiles as best he can manage while he tells her that his name is Colby and she's going to be alright now. The resulting suspicion is expected so he asks her very slowly, very quietly whether she can help him find his friends?
Her nose wrinkles a little and she asks him that isn't he tall enough to be able to see them?
His chuckle makes her smile so he takes a deep breath and tries not to panic as he asks if she knows where the people who took her are because he's seen people smuggling rings before and it hurts just a little more when it is innocent children but it hurts a lot more when he knows that somewhere, the same people have Don and Ian who aren't going to cooperate or go peacefully into whatever awaits them.
Large brown eyes with rings under them that rival his own widen in understanding and she hesitates only briefly before crouching down and patting the floor. Her hand is white and frail against the dusty floor. Colby scoops her into his arms and hands her to Liz then takes off towards King at a dead sprint.
iii.
It takes them a long time, too long, to find their way into the tunnels. They run an easy half a mile out from the building and come out in an abandoned lot. The fading smell of burning rubber stings their nostrils almost as bad as the knowledge of failure burns in their guts.
Tim King steers them into a room set deep into the corner of one of the tunnels. He folds the badge into Nikki's hand, the wallet into Colby's and the phone into Liz's. His hand descends on David's shoulder, squeezing briefly, as he says quietly that forensics have taken photos and swabs and that they can have a few minutes in there if they like.
The air is stale and heavy with the scent of bile. The dried pools of vomit don't contain much in the way of actual substance and somehow, the idea that they're being starved as well makes it that much more unbearable. Blood spatters decorate the floor and there is a shackle against the wall.
Liz's fingers cling so tight that they might tear through his shirt but even as her cheeks dampen his chest, Colby's own grief does the same to her hair. Nikki's nails dig into David's biceps as she turns her face into his shoulder and quivers. His arm comes around her shoulders as he wonders where they go from here.
This entire part was based around Colby in full tac gear, kneeling in front of a little girl and asking her to help him find his friends. I wrote that bit first and then worked outwards because the image would not leave my head, still won't, and then it wasn't far from there to imagine the four of them standing in the same room that played a huge part in breaking Don and Ian. I hope you're all still enjoying this even though I'm probably going to be damned for eternity for torturing them all so badly.