Again... I apologize. I completely forgot to update yesterday. And I'm so sorry! But I'm back!

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Please enjoy!

Race screamed as his body was thrown forward. He pulled his arm in, crying out even more as he scraped his forearm against the sharp metal he'd been trying to keep it from. He was going faster. He couldn't breathe. "David!" he cried. "David! Please, David!"

David took a few short breaths, so frustrated he couldn't even begin to describe it. Once he got the information, he went for the radio. He hated that the boy was screaming out his name. He hated that he things might just get a whole lot worse. "All available units, Camry spotted exiting towards John F. Kennedy airport!"

"Dammit," Jack muttered, glancing over at his partner for a moment who only looked at him with wide eyes. They were going the wrong way. "About face," he joked, though there was no real humor behind the words. This was serious. But if they were headed to the airport, surly this guy, whoever he was, couldn't get a child through it without getting someone's attention. "Hold on, doll..." he winked.

"Jack Kelly, I swear to God..." the young woman threatened lightly, shaking her head as she gripped onto the car for dear life. Jack only laughed a little.

"C'mon, Ace... live a little!" Only Jack didn't know how his high would soon wear off. Nothing could've prepared him for what he found next.

Breathing was so goddamn hard. "David! Please! I don' wanna die! I don't wanna die!" Race wanted out. The world was moving so quickly behind him he couldn't even try to blink the tears away to figure out where he was headed.

Hearts were only supposed to be allowed to break once in a lifetime. Today, David threw that theory clear out the window. "Tyler! Calm down, kiddo. What do you see?"

"Nothing!" Tyler yelled. "Nothing! It all looks the same!" It was clear they were going away from the city. Somehow they'd made it to some kind of backroad. Nothing looked familiar. All Race knew was the city.

Everything was going downhill. David couldn't stop it. He gripped at his hair, glancing back to see Darcy checking back in on him again. With a panicked look on his face, the operator turned back to his computers. "Tyler... what else is in that trunk? Tell me what you see..."

There it was. The thing that Race has been dreading doing since he'd woken up. He couldn't. He didn't want to. "David..." he groaned, shaking his head.

"Focus, Racer... you can do this..." David said, his voice as soft as he could possibly get it. "Describe what you see..." he pleaded. Not only would Jack never forgive him if he didn't do everything he could to get his kid out, David didn't think he'd ever forgive himself. After all, Benjamin Neilson might still be alive if it weren't for him...

It was still so dark. Race did not want to chance taking the phone away from his ear, even if the small device would offer some light. "Um... there's... there's paint..." So much of it. "N' some brushes..." he whimpered. "A screwdriver..."

"Okay," David pondered, grabbing a pen. He needed something to grip onto. Something besides his hair that would give him something to do. "What else?" He questioned, trying to think of anything they could do.

Sniffling, trying to hard to just be calm, to just pretend he wasn't scared out of his mind, the boy continued on, feeling around a little bit until his hand felt a kind of dirty tarp. "Uhm..." He had been starting to breathe again. He had been calm. Not anymore. Not when he pulled back that tarp. "No... no no no no no no! God no! Please!" His throat would be raw soon. But he could hardly feel it over his own terror.

Nerves spiked in the operators bones again as he sat up a little straighter. "What, kiddo? What is it?"

"He's gonna bury me! He's gonna kill me n' he's gonna bury me! Please God no!" The child was fully screaming now. David winced. He could hear him banging on the roof above him, desperate to get out.

"Tyler, I really need you to calm down-"

"He has a shovel! He's gonna kill me n' bury me!" The situation was hopeless. They wouldn't find him. He'd be left alone to live his last few moments being tormented by a stranger and no one would even ever find him. "I know what he's gonna do! I don't wanna die! I don' wanna die!" he sobbed out. It hurt. His chest hurt. His eyes stung. His throat burned. His head was pounding just as his heart did.

This boy certainly was a challenge. He felt bad for making fun of his old friend whenever the other man would complain about being tired. If he remembered correctly, Race suffered from ADHD as well as panic and anxiety attacks. That was never a good mix. Not to mention the other brother. Charlie... the boy who could only use one leg.

It didn't matter right now. He couldn't dwell on it. He just needed this screaming child to calm down. "Hey... hey, Tyler? Kelly, what's your favorite movie?" he asked. Anything to get the boy's mind off of this. Absolutely anything. "Huh?" he prompted again after a moment of quiet passed.

Race sniffled, thoroughly confused. "What?" he croaked out, not understand in the least what the man was getting at.

"It's okay..." David laughed, stressed tears in his eyes. "It's okay, you can tell me. What is it?"

A sense of calm washed over the child for a split second as he pondered the question. He got lost in a quick memory of movie nights. Every Saturday night that they could, it was movie night with his makeshift family. His half brothers and his oldest brother's girl. And when it was his turn to pick, it would more than likely be one of four movies. "Raiders of the Lost Ark..." Indiana Jones.

At that, David allowed himself a small, genuine smile. "No way! My little brother loves Indiana Jones!" he stated, trying like everything to get the kid to just connect with him. Trust him. "Let's make a deal, pal..." He really shouldn't be doing this. It was against the rules. Promises were off the table. "This weekend, we're gonna go to the movies. Your choice. I'll buy you anything you want, okay? You and me..." He really shouldn't be doing this.

The child swallowed hard, nodding a little bit. "O-Okay..." he agreed so softly David almost missed it.

"Okay... okay... here's what I need you to do, Tyler," he began, an idea popping into his head as he ran through the list of items he knew were in that trunk with that scared to death little boy. "I need you to open up one of those cans of paint and pour it out through that hole. Can you do that?"

A forced hum was the only response the boy could muster at that point. Pushing every hesitant thought to the back of his mind, Tyler did as he was told, taking that screwdriver and roughly forcing the lid off of the paint and dragging it over to the hole. "I-I got it... I'm doin' it..." he informed. His whole body was beginning to ache, hating being stuck in the same position for too long. His legs screamed at him to move. He tried to ignore it.

"Any available units, kidnap in progress," David stated again, for what felt like the millionth time. This boy should've been found by now. "Suspect is white male, 30s, in a four-door silver Camry. PR is in the trunk. PR is leaving a trail of white paint coming from the trunk. I repeat, look for white paint near John F. Kennedy Airport!" Then be switched back. Back to the boy who was still just trying to remember how to breathe.

"The paints almost gone, David..." Race whined, feeling the can getting lighter by the second.

Nodding, David could only offer a quiet, "open up another one, kiddo. It's alright." He did not feel bad about using a stranger's paint. Not if the stranger had it in him to do this.

"Okay... just please don't leave me alone..." the boy begged quietly, almost hesitant to admit that he was terrified of being alone in the back of a car with a man he did not know.

With a small shake of his head, David promised, "Of course not, Tyler. Never. I'm right here..." Nothing was going to tear him away from that phone. Not now.

That stupid kid was too bold for his own good. The driver still had no idea what the boy had done to get someone's attention but that was about to end real quick. He turned up the volume on his stereo. He didn't even care about what was playing as long as it was loud enough for that boy to know no one was listening to him. No one would find him.

Everything was fine. At least, until another car pulled up beside him at the stoplight that must've been broken. The driver looked over, rolling his eyes when the man began waving him down. He felt himself beginning to sweat. It would be fine as long as he played it off. He rolled down his window, putting on a forced grin as he waved.

"Hey, uh, you got some... paint coming out of your trunk..." the guy informed, hesitantly. The driver's heart sunk as anger spread throughout his body. He looked back, like he was shocked. Like nothing should've been in his trunk. That kid was gonna get it. Time to teach him a lesson, he supposed.

"Oh no..." he sighed out, still pretending to be confused as hell. "Thank you so much!" The man looked at him skeptically, but nodded none the less in acceptance.

The second that light turned green, the driver was off like a shot.

Tyler gasped in panic when the car jerked forward again. The phone fell from his fingers as paint spilled every which way, mangling his hair and staining his favorite sweatshirt. But that wasn't what worried the boy. "No... no no no no no, David?!" he cried as he picked the phone back out of the mess of white paint. "David?! Can you hear me?!" The cheap thing shouldn't have lasted. All Race could hear was static.

"Tyler?!" The noise was choppy at best. He could he fragments of his PR's frantic pleas for him to respond. "Tyler? What happened?!" This couldn't be it. He couldn't lose contact with this kid. "Tyler?!"

"David?! Please!" Race begged, trying to clear the paint off of the disposable, desperate to save his one ounce left of safety. "Please, please! David!"

By some miracle, the static began clearing up. David sighed in relief. "Tyler, I can hear you. What happened?"

Just as Race might've responded, he felt the car skid to a sudden and taunting halt. The whole world stopped as the boy held his breath, his eyes going wide as his body seemed to freeze. He'd never been this petrified in his entire life. But it couldn't end like this. He needed to see Jack. Oh, what would Jack do?

"Kelly, c'mon, I need you ta talk ta me, buddy! What's goin' on?" Race shook his head and silently pushed the phone into his back pocket, not willing to speak. He couldn't give himself away right now. He flinched as he felt the opening and slamming of the front door. His limbs began to tremble as fear completely took over. Footsteps and clanging keys made their way closer to him. Race grabbed for the screwdriver that rolled at his hip as the thing was about to be unlocked.

"No... no no no please!" he began screaming, even before the world turned white. "Please don't do this!" In a split second he was blinded. He weakly shoved himself up, shoving the screwdriver in what he believed to be the direction of his kidnappers chest. His wrist was seized immediately and he was shoved back down, his head colliding with the side of the trunk and making everything spin.

"Shut up!"

David's heart stopped as he muted his side of the call, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth as he held back a scream. He couldn't do nothing. He couldn't just listen to this happen. "Eight-Adam-Sixteen, what do you got?"

"Air eighteen, this is 14267. We are not locating any paint trails," he heard. They weren't looking hard enough. This boy was doing all he could do.

A scream left Race as his hair was grabbed. All that got him was a harsh slap across the face, not enough to bruise, but enough to sting. "I said shut up! Or so help me, I will kill you right here!" But the child couldn't just stop. He was left a whimpering mess as he tried to catch his breath. Tears formed in his eyes as the grip on his hair tightened. "Look at what you did!" his captor whined, sounding sad and angry all at once. Race didn't know what he was talking about really. The man was staring at his hair like that made any kind of difference.

Before the boy could even think, the man shoved him back down completely, slamming the trunk over him again. Race didn't dare reach back for the phone. The driver wasn't done with him yet.

The man growled as he wrenched his door open again, reaching down to grab a bottle from the cup holder and then rounding towards the trunk again. That boy wasn't going to give him away. Not today. He needed this. He pulled the trunk open again, setting down the chloroform by the child's hip and digging a cloth out of his pocket.

"No no... please don't... I'll stop! Please don't do that!" he begged, his face completely soaked with tears. His cheeks and his nose were red.

Reaching down to grab the boy's chin, making sure he felt completely helpless, the driver leaned in close. "Don't you dare cry," he hissed. The child whimpered as the hand covered half of his neck and half of his face. The man held all the power. And the child was scared.

Race watched in horror as his captor reached for the drug that would knock him out, confuse him even more. He didn't want it. It was poured on the cloth that would soon silence him. He couldn't breathe.

"Hey buddy!" The man was quick. Far too quick for Tyler's liking. He watched with wide eyes as the stranger shoved the small bottle into his back pocket, along with the cloth that went with it, all before that sharp screwdriver was threateningly shoved just beside his temple, a silent warning for him to not make a sound. "You okay over there?"

Plastering on a smile, the man turned from his prey, towards the guy who was too curious for his own good. "Yeah! Just some spilled paint is all..." he laughed lightly, knowing the boy was staring up at him with wide blue eyes. He didn't look back down. Not yet.

The other man, a little older than himself, maybe, just nodded and shrugged. "Yeah... I just saw the broken taillight and the paint and... I just..." he hesitated. He needed to get back in his car and drive away before he saw something he'd regret. "I don't know, I just thought it looked a little weird."

Another laugh. Race flinched. "Yeah. There's a real mess back here," he stated, like it was okay. Like he wasn't holding a fifteen year old captive in his trunk, tearing him away from a life that had not been easy to have. The boy curled in on himself a little when the man grinned down towards him, though he could see the bitterness in his eyes. "Real mess back here..."

"I'll bet," the guy replied skeptically, but the didn't press. After standing there awkwardly for a second, waiting for the man to do something else, he just shoved his hands in his pockets and turned around. "Take care, man!"

It was concerning. The man wasn't even frustrated by the fact that his car was a complete disaster. He wasn't phased by the trail of white paint spilling itself out of his trunk. It was... odd. The concerned samaritan climbed back into his car, taking a second to adjust his mirrors, just to get one more look at the man.

He was beating on something. Someone. Immediately, the man reached for his phone, typing in three simple numbers. Though, he never got the chance to actually complete his call.

The second the car door shut behind the guy who could've helped him, a hand flew at Race's chest. His captor was angry at him for almost getting him caught. He held back his screams when fists came. He shut his eyes, trying to imagine he could hear Jack coming to save him. Screaming at his father to stop touching his baby brother. He squeezed his eyes shut tight.

And then it stopped. The child gasped and dared to open his eyes, just in time to see the trunk's lid slam back down over him. He hadn't even been aware enough to see the man grab the shovel out from behind him. But what he was aware enough for, was to hear glass shattering and a scream resound from outside the car. Then another. And another. Metal colliding with flesh and bone again and again until there was silence. Race bit down hard on his tongue to stop himself from screaming.

"Look at what you made me do!" This man was insane. He was crazy and Race didn't know what to do. There was no way out. He was going to die here. "He's dead because of you!" The child could've vomited right there. The other man... he was dead. And it had been because he'd been trying to help.

The boy sniffled, letting his hands reach up and grip tightly around the necklace he wore. The necklace he always wore. It wasn't anything expensive or extravagant. Just a gift his little brother had given him for his birthday once. A black string connected to a small rubber case of a guitar pick. "I'm so sorry..." he whimpered to no one, holding the thing close to his chest. He thought maybe it was over. Maybe the car would just speed off again. He was wrong.

The door was lifted and he was blinded. He only let himself cry out when a hand tightened around his arm.

David slammed down on his desk in frustration when he heard the boy screaming all over again. "No! No please don't do this! Oh my God! No! No!"

"Shut up!"

I... I am just so sorry.

As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, babes!