"Patience is a virtue." And clearly one you all have! Grad school is phenomenal. I love D.C. I started work at a Children's Welfare Dept. recently, and I start seeing clients on Wednesday. Talk about pressure! But through it all, I found some time to write about Danny and the rest of WaT.

white rose01, Kari, and Laura B - a pleasure to meet you. Thanks so much for reading. I'm so glad you're enjoying it so far!

Mariel: The move DID go smoothly, so I guess I am posting sooner than later...though it's still later than planned. ;) Hehe, yeah Jack's so much fun to write down.

Katerina: D.C.'s phenomenal. And the ending takes on a life of its own! I am merely a vessel which the story flows through. But I'll do my best. ;)

anmodo: Questions will be answered, I promise. And I see you're writing a sequel! Good luck! I'll be looking forward to it.

And now...back to the story...

(x)

Barlights flickered red and blue in turns against the factory walls as Danny Taylor stared off into space. His stomach had twisted itself into a knot and threatened to spew. Jason was gone. To where, Danny hadn't the first idea. He could be out in the cold, his three-year-old fingers frozen to the bone. He could be on a Greyhound bus, bound for some undisclosed location, forty-year-old molester at his side. He could be safe, hiding somewhere inside this factory. But more probably he was dead. His smiling photograph just another face amongst a sea of nameless corpses.

As he stood there trying to quell the nausea, the ground Danny stared at came into focus. A pair of ancient JcPenny's loafers scuffed up dust and came to a halt.

"Hey."

He looked up to find Detective Frank Sanders before him. The detective stared down at him with a look that infuriated Danny. It was pity. "How you holdin' up, kid?"

Danny looked away. He wasn't a kid. He never had been.

When it became apparent that Danny wasn't giving an answer, Frank cleared his throat. "Just thought I'd let you know, I appreciated the call. I'm not the type to overlook things like that. You've got NYPD on your side now, and we're gonna do everything we can do to help you in this case."

Danny sneered. He was FBI, and Frank wanted to reassure him that NYPD had his back? It brought the nausea back at full force. Frank's ego aside, his promises meant nothing to Danny. Sanders already had what he wanted. He had Layman, which was what he had been after in the first place.

"Nice to see that arrogant asshole streak's still alive and well, Frank." Danny elbowed past him, caring not a mouse turd whether Frank thought him rude or not.

Danny staggered through the crime scene. The factory walls blurred and skewed before his eyes. Thoughts raced through his mind like a train off its tracks. Jason. Gone. Kidnapped. Dead. Only three-years-old… His face came together in a frown so tight that it was painful. But one thought seared through the rest.

Layman.

Danny looked up with incensed eyes. Layman who kidnapped Jason. Layman who threatened to kill Kylie. Layman who struck Jordan across the face and ruined her life. Before he even knew what was happening, he'd picked up speed and was heading straight for Samantha and Martin who stood on the opposite side of the factory.

They were in the middle of conversation when Danny demanded, "Where is he?"

The two agents shared a glance. Samantha answered him. "They sent Jack to South Bronx General."

"No, I know where Jack is. Layman. Where'd they send him?"

"Same hospital," Martin let him know.

"Good that makes things easier. I want to talk to him."

Samantha sent another glance to Martin. Blinking, she stepped forward. "Danny, I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"No," Danny said. "This has gone on too long. I go talk to him, and I end this right now."

"That's your game plan. You're going to end this right now."

Danny clarified. "I'll make him talk."

There was a pause before Samantha asked. "And just how do you plan to do that?"

"You just bring me there. By the time I'm done with him I'll know exactly where Jason is."

Samantha frowned. "Am I dreaming?"

"What?"

"This conversation."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Her voice was gentle and firm at the same time; she excelled at that. "Danny, stand back and listen to yourself. 'By the time you're done with him?' What are we supposed to think when we hear that?"

Danny's face twisted. "Oh, c'mon. You know me better than that. Don't pull this shit with me, Sam."

She disregarded the accusation. "Danny, I'm always going to tell you the truth. If we put you in a room with Bryce Layman, could you be objective in that room?" She widened her eyes. "Could you?"

Danny started to say something, and Samantha spoke overtop of him. "If he tells you something that you don't want to hear. That he pulled a gun on Jason. That he got rid of him somewhere outside the city. That he made a choice to harm that child. If he tells you those things, there will be no holding you back."

The words sobered him. Danny hadn't wanted them to, but they left him no choice in the matter. Samantha kept going. "We won't be able to control what you do in there. And neither will you." Emotion dipped into her speech. "I'm sorry, Danny. But you can't do this, not in the position you're in now."

"So I just wait around, right?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Just sit around. After he shoots Jack. After Layman takes my kids in the middle of the night."

Samantha fixed her eyes on Danny. "Your kids?"

Danny felt the color drain from his face. He looked at Samantha and then back at Martin. Their faces relayed the same message. With one slip, he'd proved their point. He was exactly what they believed him to be. An FBI agent with no objectivity seeking revenge.

Danny brought his hand up and ran it down his face. His palm filled, slick with sweat. Shaking his head, he took his keys out of his pocket. "I have to get out of here," he got out. Danny turned away, feeling the smoke and fumes of the factory like bricks on his chest.

As Danny headed towards the exit, he expected one of them to call back to him, to lend him some parting word. Neither one did. He hurried through the maze of the factory, desperate to reach the outside. When sunlight hit him, a gust of wind pushed back his hair. Danny opened his eyes, and he stared up at the sky to see gray clouds gathering in the distance.

He remembered a psychology course from undergrad. They told him the things that hurt – that really hurt in that deep-down gut-of-your-stomach way – were the ones that were usually true. Danny knew that Samantha was right. That was what hurt the most.

(x)

Martin stepped forward to chase down Danny, but Samantha held him back. Actually, she hadn't used any force at all. Touching the skin of his hand had the same reaction as yanking him backwards.

Martin sent her a befuddled glance. "Don't you think we should go after him?"

"No." Samantha kept her eyes trained on Danny's back. "He needs some time to be alone."

He watched as Danny rushed down the stairs and out of sight. Martin's sigh pressed out of his body. Martin didn't consider himself melodramatic, or even emotional really. But over the years he and Danny had gotten to be friends. It hurt to watch him go through the pain alone. He wanted to help, even though rationally he knew there was little he could do.

Martin arched his neck in the way of Sam's vision, earning her eye contact. He chose to help Sam instead. "How about you?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

It was obvious why Martin had asked. Jack had nearly lost more than a few hours in the field, and they all knew it. Samantha had a connection to Jack that Martin had come to begrudgingly accept. When something happened to one, in reality it was happening to both of them. It tended to frustrate him – that no matter how close he and Sam became, Jack would always matter more. But in truth, the jealousy could only go so far. Jack was the man Martin hoped to become. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't hate your idol. You could only become discouraged when you failed to be him.

For a moment, a deep sadness filled Samantha's face, but it washed away just as quickly. "I'm fine," she said. She smiled sadly. "After all it could have been worse, right?"

Martin nodded his agreement. The two began to walk towards the exit, side by side. "You said some amazing things back there," he said.

Samantha smirked. "So, I guess this means you don't think I'm a cold, success-driven workaholic?"

Martin smiled, amused. "Well I wouldn't go that far," he said. "But I was glad you were there. I don't think Danny would have listened to me. Not like he listened to you, anyway."

Samantha thought on that for a few moments before saying, "Danny won't listen to anyone right now. He won't until those kids are found." Her lips formed a frown. "If those kids are found."

"You think Layman killed them?"

"I think Layman doesn't want us to know what role he's playing."

Martin nodded. "Which is exactly why we need to find out." The doors opened, and the film of dust and smog that lined their lungs was replaced by cool fresh air. After taking a moment to appreciate it, Martin turned to Sam. "Ready to go see Jack?"

"Actually, I'm going to take a separate car," she said. She walked up to one of their company-issued Grand Marquis. "There's a stop I have to make."