Nathan Jones sat in the Clearwater Police Department squad room, going over the things in his briefcase. He'd been a detective for the Clearwater police force for fifteen years, and he specialized in cases involving children. Every case was nerve wracking, but this one was especially delicate because of the age of the victim involved, and that they knew it was going on for such a long time. He let out a deep breath, going over the outline of the operation one last time.

They had been investigating a child prostitution and abuse case, following a tip from a teacher at the local high school, a man named Adam Collins. The victim was a sixteen-year-old boy, and from reports, both of the parents involved were known dealers, and the boy was probably addicted to whatever they were dealing. Greed was a powerful motivator, and these people, (they didn't deserve the title of parent), were as bad as it got. They pimped him out to the businessmen and vacationers passing through, who would pay a lot for their fetish. It was a problem in all the vacation spots, where so many people were only there temporarily.

Nathan checked his watch before going to the conference room where the other guys on the team were about to be briefed on the details. The social worker was there too, and he nodded to her. Someone had mentioned that her name was Katie Evans, and he made a mental note to introduce himself when he had a chance.

In the briefing, they went over the timeline. Nathan was going to pose as a client and stay with the boy, while the rest of the officers arrested the two adults and any other handlers. Once arrests were made, the ambulance and the social worker would go to the hotel to get the boy and take him to Tampa Bay Children's Hospital. In the next few days, the police would search the house the suspects rented, to find evidence to support the case against the them.

The briefing didn't last long, and when it was over, Nathan checked his briefcase one last time before making his way to his car. He left the police station and stopped at a McDonald's before driving to the designated place, a dingy, cheap motel on the outskirts of the city. As he parked, he noticed a couple with a small boy heading inside. He tensed briefly, his hand resting on the gun he had in the pocket of the door, but relaxed, knowing that it was unlikely that this was his target. He waited until he got his signal before heading inside with his briefcase. He walked down the row of doors and stopped outside room 212. He knocked and a woman answered.

"You have the money?" she asked in a raspy voice.

Nathan nodded and handed her an envelope. She took it and shut the door, coming back a moment later and letting him in. Nathan glanced around the room, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. It would do no good to blow this too soon. He saw the boy sitting on the bed, but he made himself casually look around the room and not zero in on the target. He thought back to the night in one of the many seedy clubs in this city, where he'd met a friend of theirs and asked if the friend knew anyone who would be able to fill his specific needs.

"Two hours of anything you want," the woman said, bringing him back to the present. "No rules, just leave when your time is up." Nathan nodded again, and the two of them left, so confident that they didn't have anything to worry about, in sharp contrast to the boy who sat on the bed with an air of defeat about him; it was so clear that he had given up.

Nathan set his briefcase down and loosened his tie before going over to the bed. The boy's eyes were dilated and he kept looking around nervously. Dark circles under his eyes made Nathan wonder when he'd slept last. Anger toward these people started to grow in the pit of his stomach as he sat in the chair next to the bed and waited for the text he would get when the suspects were arrested. Brady looked at him and took in a shaky breath as if expecting him to do something.

"Are you hungry? Or thirsty? Anything?" Nathan asked. The boy shook his head, still watching him cautiously. Nathan reached into his briefcase, and Brady closed his eyes as if bracing himself for something, but Nathan just pulled out a bottle of pepsi and a bag with a burger and french fries, and tossed them on the bed. Brady hesitantly opened his eyes after and minute. When his saw the food, he looked from it to Nathan, before cautiously reaching out and sliding it over to himself, hunching over it as he ate. He glanced at Nathan every few seconds, still expecting something. Nathan took the bottle, opened it for him. "What's your name?" he asked when the boy was done eating.

"Brady," the boy said softly, clearing his throat and sitting tensely, looking confused.

"Alright. So here's what's about to happen. I'm a detective, I'm with the Clearwater Police. We've been investigating your case for a while now. The police are out there arresting your handlers right now, and once they're in handcuffs, an ambulance is coming to take you to the hospital, and then from there you'll go into protective custody, so either a home for kids like you or foster care." Brady was shaking his head before Nathan finished talking, his face tense with fear.

"You're going to get me killed," he said, blinking hard to focus.

"Don't worry," Nathan said, knowing as soon as the words left his mouth that that was the wrong thing to say. Brady gave him an incredulous look, and then glanced at the exit, as if to gauge whether he could make it to the exit before Nathan stopped him. Nathan's phone buzzed, and he glanced at it even as he knew this was the signal he was waiting for. Moments later, there was a knock on the door, and he went to let the social worker and the paramedics in. When he turned around, Brady had slid down to the floor on the far side of the bed, hugging his knees, his eyes squeezed closed. Nathan went back and knelt next to him.

"Hey, Brady. You're in good hands, okay? This is Katie. She's the social worker on your case. She's going to take care of making sure you're safe." He reached out to... what? Reassure Brady, maybe, but Brady didn't react. He didn't respond to Katie talking to him, or the paramedics asking him to get up on the stretcher. Eventually, they gave up and picked him up. His head lolled back, and he gave no resistance. Somewhere in the stress, his brain shut down and he'd passed out. Nathan couldn't leave it like this, not without knowing for sure what was going to happen to Brady. He decided to follow the ambulance, with Brady and Katie loaded inside, to the hospital. It was a flurry of activity when the ambulance arrived. Brady was still unresponsive, and there was talk going around that perhaps he'd overdosed.

Nathan waited in the hallway while doctors and nurses did their job. He was on the phone with his supervisor when the doctor, Carlisle Lee, came out of the room with a case of blood and tissue samples the forensics team needed. Nathan looked at him expectantly, and he nodded once.

"He's awake. Sedated, so he'll sleep tonight, so if you need to ask him questions or anything, keep it brief." Nathan nodded and followed the doctor into the room. It was dim, but not oppressive. It looked sterile, with so much white. When he'd seen Brady earlier, the kid was wearing a red shirt and black shorts, but those clothes were part of the evidence, so he was wearing a hospital gown. The sharp contrast of the white of his skin and surroundings to his hair and the dark circles under his eyes was severe. He looked at Nathan with questions in his eyes, but said nothing. Nathan decided that questions could wait. He pulled up a chair and sat down. Brady's eyes never left his face, even though the drugs in his system were clearly pulling at him.

"Hey. Listen, kid. You're in good hands here, but if you need anything, I want you to call me. Anything, you understand?" This was not what Brady was expecting, and he cocked his head, brow furrowed. Nathan handed him a small cellphone. "My number's in here. I'll be back to see you tomorrow, but I mean it. Anything at all, you call or text me." Brady did not reach for the phone, so after a minute, Nathan set it on the table next to the bed. He waited for a moment for Brady to say something, but he could tell that the drugs were pulling the kid under again, so he stood up and patted Brady's shoulder, and then turned to go.

"Are they in jail?" He almost didn't hear the question, Brady's voice was so soft.

"Yeah. They're locked up. They can't get you here." He turned to look at Brady, and Brady had the sad smile of someone who knew too much, and didn't want to disappoint anyone. He moved to roll onto his side, and then hissed in pain. He paused for a minute, and then closed his eyes and let the drugs take over.

Out in the hallway, Carlisle was waiting for him with Katie, a troubled look on his face.

"What's the story, Doc?" Nathan asked. Carlisle gestured down the hall, and they walked together to his office. Carlisle didn't say anything until the door clicked shut behind them.

"I've seen my fair share of abuse cases, but it never gets easier," he said with a heavy sigh as he sat down at his desk. "It's not great news," he continued, handing Nathan one of two manila folders. "He's dehydrated and underweight, and he needs to go through detoxification to get the drugs out of his system. He came in with elevated levels of GHB and Rohypnol. He's got three fractured ribs, and from ex rays, it looks as though they've been re-broken at least twice." He took a deep breath to gather himself before continuing, "There are scars on his back and chest, and scars and bruising around his wrists and ankles. A likely diagnosis for him, mentally would be PTSD, depression and a social anxiety disorder, although we'll have to do a psych evaluation to really be sure. We also want to do an ECG in a few days when he isn't so stressed."

Katie sighed and sat back in her chair. She took a moment to go over what Carlisle was saying, and asked, "So, what do you think his chances are to have a decent life?"

Carlisle answered, "I think there's about a 50/50 chance, as long as the people he's with are willing to put in the effort and have patience. It'll take time, but I think we'll get there. He needs stability and it'll be a while before he feels like he has that. You have to wonder what kind of people would do something like this. For now, I think the best thing is for him to stay here. Let him recover. Once he's physically healthy, then we can figure out what the next step for him is."