A/N: I got a good reception from the first chapter so decided to post this chapter early; thanks to all reviews. I am aware Nikki replaced Megan on the show; she was an LAPD officer before that, as she is in this FanFiction. Warning: This chapter mentions/implies rape.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. *Sigh*

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Don winced as his stomach clenched tighter and he closed his eyes. His breathing hastened, and he had to gulp in another breath of air. Swallowing hard, Don winced as he turned towards Colby, wishing with all his might that he hadn't. "What happened?" he asked.

The look on Colby's face was full of remorse. Colby's head hung in shame as he focused all his attention that he had left on his blue sling he was required to wear. He saw Colby's Adam's apple bob, and he knew Colby felt personally responsible for Don's attack.

"I moved when they told me not too," he responded. He was obviously anguished over his "crime". Don simply thanked their lucky stars that their captors hadn't figured out that Colby was dyslexic yet. They probably wouldn't, Don hoped; at least they probably wouldn't need Colby to read a lot. If they'd beaten him that much for moving his shoe…

"Colby…" He was so, so thankful that he and Colby were allowed to speak within the corner of their little room. Guzzo had granted them that privilege after Colby and Don had not been able to break free after three days of captivity. They were still not allowed to speak to anyone else but each other. Still, the simple act of hearing Colby's voice – a friendly voice – made Don want to rejoice.

"Colby, that was not your fault," Don responded. He lifted up Colby's chin, forcing the junior agent to look him in the eyes. "Colby, these are sick people. They punished me because they were in a bad mood, and blamed you for it. Do not listen to them."

Colby nodded, but Don knew that deep down, his younger agent still blamed himself for Don's black and swollen eye. It was nothing to the pain he was sure Colby was feeling. "Colby, they aren't requiring you to do anything yet, are they?" he asked, attempting to change the subject.

"That's what I don't get." Colby was careful to keep his voice low. He knew the consequences of being heard all too well; his arm had been broken for them. He picked at the frayed blue fabric of his sling and winced as he moved his arm."I don't understand what they want me to do. Why they're keeping me around if they don't want me to do anything."

"I think I have a thought about that," Don responded. He stretched his tired arms and sat down on the green cot. "They want me to work loading boxes, and they are trying to use you to force me not to communicate with anyone."

"Because they know if I stay here, you won't be as likely to run off because they can just kill me," Colby responded. That made sense, and played right into Don's thoughts. Colby glanced up at Don again. "All I did was move my shoe while they were in the room. Guzzo took a strap to me and told me that you were good as dead. When you didn't come in at the normal time…"

"Look, it's not your fault," Don responded. He glanced at the door as he heard footsteps outside it. He lowered his voice. "Listen, Colby, they have the police working for them. I saw a policeman accept a wad of hundred dollar bills." He swallowed hard, praying that somehow it wasn't true. "Colby, the man dressed in the police uniform looked exactly like Ian Edgerton… and they addressed him by name."

## - ## Break

It was later that evening – or, well, it was probably early that morning – when Colby was returned to the eight by ten room that he shared with Don. As soon as his guard was gone, Colby leaned over the waste basket and vomited the remainder of his food he'd been given – two mere pieces of toast – into the trash can. Colby swallowed hard and wiped the vomit off with a napkin he'd managed to snatch at the bar.

Thirty pieces of silver, Colby thought half-heartedly. That was what the man had paid for him. Well, really, thirty dollars. He had been betrayed for a small sum of money. A police officer – a member of the LAPD, for God's sake, had recognized his picture. He'd hurried to the scene, telling Colby's captor that he had to let Colby go. Colby belatedly remembered his aunt telling him once Jesus had been betrayed by thirty pieces of silver. If Colby had been thinking about that, he would have thought how interesting and attempted to compare the two scenarios.

All he could think about, though, was how Colby's captor had talked smoothly; assuring the LAPD officer that he had the news wrong, that Colby wasn't being held against his will. His captor had talked to the man all well keeping a vice death grip on Colby's arm. Then – as a move of trust – the captor had offered Colby to the police officer for half an hour for some "fun."

When Colby had heard the last word, he'd nearly vomited. But he'd managed to restrain himself as the man had dragged him into the behind the bar. He'd managed to close his eyes as the man had rubbed against him. He'd managed to fight back. Colby clearly remembered yelling at the LAPD officer that he didn't want this. Then, his memory had gone black, and Colby had shuddered at what had happened – or hadn't happened – next. He couldn't remember much, he just knew it wasn't good.

He wondered if this was how rape victims felt.

As a result of Colby's "disobedience", the LAPD officer called it, Colby's arm had been broken - the same one, again – and now he and Don were in a much, much worse place than they had been before.

Half of LAPD was enjoying the benefits of the sex slave trade.

## - Break - ##

"I swear, LAPD is giving me the run-around," David Sinclair grumbled as he slammed his report onto Megan's desk. "The chief isn't even bothering to return my calls anymore. Somehow, I don't think we can expect help from them for backup or anything. If I didn't know better, I'd say they we're involved in this."

Megan nodded as she took David' s report. "I'm trying not to ask Charlie and Amita and Larry to work on it – at least not until we have something more concrete to go on." She handed David the picture. "We have another picture," she responded with the shake of her head. This one was of Colby, who was leaning over a black waste basket. It looked like he was throwing up. His arm was in a blue sling, and he looked like he felt miserable.

"They say a picture paints a thousand words…" David muttered as he took the picture. His heart clenched, and Megan wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was: this could be the last time they saw Colby Granger alive.

"And a report paints even more," a small, petite black girl said. Her black-brown hair looked like it needed to be combed and the girl looked oddly familiar. David and Megan both took her hand as she shook theirs. "I'm Nikki Bentacourt, LAPD. I've worked with Don Eppes and Colby Granger when they were missing." She swallowed hard. "Don't know you, but I hope I can trust you. My boss came in the break room this morning and was joking with another guy. He said…" Nikki swallowed hard and burst into tears.

"It's okay," Megan said as she approached Nikki, offering her arms in a hug even as she looked quizzically over Nikki's head at David. She remembered Colby talking about Nikki a few times. Colby was trying to encourage Nikki to apply for the FBI but hadn't had much luck yet. "Why don't we talk in here?" she asked.

David followed, and Megan knew that he'd be quiet, but wanted to listen in.

"What'd your boss say?" Megan asked Nikki as she handed the woman another tissue. It was clear that whatever the boss had said had upset Nikki so much she felt the need to confront the FBI.

"Colby – he's always been like a brother to me," Nikki responded. She took a gulp of the water David offered her. "You know? I know a lot about him. So when I heard he was missing, it home. Hard. Then I go into the break room this morning to ask my boss if I could assist ya'll on the case, since he knows I'm thinking about transferring to the FBI." Nikki swallowed hard once more and closed her eyes. "Oh, God, I don't think I could bear to say this out loud more than once."

"Once is all we need," David assured her as he sat down.

"He drank a sip of coffee, my boss, turned towards his friend, and said, 'I've got one over the FBI, now!' and his boss said, 'well, how?' and my boss looks at the other LAPD officer and smiles this sick smile." Nikki burst into a fresh wave of tears and pulled up her knees to her chest. "God, it made me sick. He said – he said 'I raped Colby Granger, their traitor agent. Been wanting to do that a long time.'"

Before she'd even finished her sentence, it was David who had left the room for a trash can to empty the remainder of his lunch in.