Hey Colby, it's me. David? Colby snapped his head round as the voice spoke, expecting to see Sinclair. As his eyes focussed on the face in front of him he staggered backwards in shock, almost tripping over his own feet. He raised his rifle to his shoulder and then lowered it slightly.

"Dwayne?" his own voice sounded so far away. It couldn't be Dwayne, this guy has a bullet hole in his head. Nausea swept over him as he stared at the bloody mess on Dwayne's head. His heart began to pound and he realised that he was frightened. Nothing was right here. His unit was missing, there was no one around, and Dwayne appeared to be, well, dead. He stopped. Why didn't that sound as ludicrous as it should? He began to hyperventilate, panic rising in him. This was wrong, all wrong. He could feel the world sliding around him as he fought back the urge to vomit. Blackness crowded in from all sides but before it completely enveloped him he heard Dwayne's voice once more, "it's always me saving your ass. You shouldn't be here Granger, go home.

David walked into the conference room as Don was updating the team. Don looked surprised to see him.

"I thought you were at the hospital?" he asked

"I got kicked out. They don't like crowds in the ICU and anyway, Colby is out of it. I'll head over later tonight."

"How's he doing?"

"No change. The surgery went well. They're treating the septicaemia with antibiotics and ice packs." Sinclair kept his sentences short and fact based. He needed to stay focussed if he was going to get the people that did this.

"Sure, sure. Take a seat. We are looking at this guy Simpson again. Charlie is on his way over to lend a hand." Don gestured at the screens as he spoke. Simpson's rap sheet was on the boards, as was his photo, the shaved head held at an arrogant angle for the camera.

"I vote we do a house to house, see what we can pick up from the neighbours." A voice suggested from the back of the room. David turned to see the familiar face of Liz looking back at him. He felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the junior agent, she was always called in when things went sideways and she was clearly feeling awkward in her role as Colby's replacement. He decided to lend her some support.

"Yeah, I'm up for that. Never know, somebody may have heard or seen something that can give us some direction on who these guys are and who is bankrolling them"

"OK" replied Don, nodding his head as he spoke. He was keen to get his team back out there; they needed to focus on something other than their friend. He stood up from his perch on the corner of the table. "Liz and David, pull together a small team to do house to house and dress properly for the occasion, this is not a nice neighbourhood." He turned to Megan, "We'll put some more pressure on the youngest of our perps - Simpson, see what crawls out of the cracks"

Incredibly, the street that the meth house was on had returned to its natural rhythm and flow. David paused for a moment after he stepped out of the car. In his mind's eye he could see it all laid out in front of him; the cars, LAPD uniforms… his mind stilled as he looked around, then he turned slightly and walked over to where Colby had lain. He crouched down and touched the tarmac; it was warm on his fingertips, heated by the sun. Colby had been on his hands and knees here, head up looking at him, blood spilling onto the black top. David could still see the blood stains on the ground, although the sun had already begun to bleach them away. He put his hand on top of the dark shapes on the road, looking for some connection with his stricken partner. The fact that there was only the feel of tarmac - no tackiness – surprised him and snapped him out of his reverie. Pull yourself together! He pulled his hand back and stood up. He looked around for Liz and saw that she was maintaining a discreet and respectful distance by rummaging around in the back of the car. He dusted his hands off and walked towards her.

"let's do this" he said as he walked towards the first house on their list.

Don looked wearily at the skinhead in front of him and then at the pamphlet in front of him. Aryan Clan. Jeez, were there not enough bogey men in the world without these clowns trying to invent some more. Anti everything rhetoric – hate filled statement based on fear and ignorance.

"Wow, you guys – everything and everyone is out to get us, right? I don't see any pointy hoods in these pictures though" Don pushed the paper towards Simpson.

"Got a right to protect what is ours Freedom and democracy"

"Oh please" Megan interjected. "You deal in meth and you want to give a lecture on citizenship?"

"Look, bottom line, you are going back to prison, you can't avoid that. But we can make things more comfortable for you." Don leaned towards Simpson.

"I don't need you to do me no favours. I've got people that will look after me on the inside, see that I am alright." Megan stepped forwards and leaned on the table as Don spoke.

"Your little gang shot a federal agent. What makes you think that you will be safe anywhere? The wrong door left open at the wrong time. You get put on detail with the wrong people. Mistakes can happen in prison." For the first time since Simpson had been arrested Don saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He was only twenty one after all and cut off from the people who normally told him what to say and do. Simpson's eyes flitted across to Megan and then to Don. Don decided to turn the screw a little more. He leaned in until his face was right into Simpson's.

"It was my man, my friend that was shot and I will personally feed you to the other prison gangs unless you give me something. I have agents lining up to have a go at you and your friends. Just give me a reason." He stayed absolutely still, not moving his eyes from man in front of him. Simpson leaned back and cast his gaze down towards the table.

"I can't, they'll kill me" he whispered.

"Who will?" asked Megan. She had moved back to her previous position behind the suspect.

"You can throw me to the other gangs in prison" he said, looking Don once again, "but whatever they do, won't be nothing on what those guys will do if they think I talked to you. They are pros man. The real deal" He put his head in his hands, rubbing the stubble on his scalp with his palms as if to soothe himself. Don pushed back his chair and stood up. Years of experience told him that he wasn't going to get any further here. If he couldn't crack this one, it was unlikely any of the others in custody would. He needed leverage. He just hoped that Liz and David managed to find some.