Nightfall had come and one of the female police officers gently shook Malcolm's arm

Author's Note: Aha! *poof* Behold the next chapter! Told ya I'd get that stupid thing to work! Hehe. Once again, I apologize now for this story turning into total crap. I'm writing off the top of my head here, because at first I had direction with this, then somewhere along the way I lost the map, so now I'm flying blind! Lol. Anyways, R+R peeps!

Rating: Hmmm…I'll take PG-13 for $1000 Alex.

Disclaimer: Ever wonder what the prefix "fan" on fanfiction means? Wow, and how about that suffix. "Fiction" Put the two together and what do you get? Come on, everyone together now!! Disclaimer!!! Hahahaha!

Nightfall had come and one of the female police officers gently shook Malcolm's shoulder. The two had fallen asleep in each other's arms. Malcolm yawned and slowly rubbed his eyes. He leaned over and carefully slipped his arm from around Nancy's shoulder to glance at his watch. It was well past nine o'clock.

"Have they heard anything?" he asked the officer hopefully.

"I'm sorry Mr. Ishida. No word yet. Maybe you and your wife…" she started to say, and then remembered that they were divorced, "Maybe you two ought to go home and get some rest. Come back in the morning." She suggested.

Malcolm sighed and his shoulders drooped. He nodded at the woman and gently began to wake Nancy.

"Nancy…wake up." He whispered.

"Hm?" she lightly groaned, her eyes coming into focus. "Did they-!?" she started to ask, and stopped when Malcolm's head shook solemnly. Fresh tears began to well up in Nancy's eyes.

"It's okay hun," Malcolm soothed, "Don't cry. They said we should go home and get some rest. What do you say?" he asked, attempting a weak smile.

"Very well." She sighed, wiping at the tears that brimmed the corners of her eyes.

Both stood up to leave, when Nancy clutched Malcolm's arm.

"Oh Malcolm…I-I don't want to go home…not without T.K. being there…"

Malcolm took a deep breath and gazed into Nancy's bloodshot eyes. He did not want to go back to his house either. For one thing, it was a disaster area, something that he did not want to be reminded of. And second, he dreaded being alone as well.

"Then, I'll come with you and sleep on the couch." He stated. Nancy let a faint smile form across her lips.

"Thank you Malcolm." She said, as the two made their way out of the station.

Matt woke up to an annoying sensation in his stomach. He gingerly lifted himself into a sitting position, with his back against the wall.

"Man, I'm hungry." He stated. T.K. raised his head to look at his older brother.

"Me too. I wonder when these guys are gonna feed us?" he replied.

"Who knows? I doubt they even remember we're here." He shrugged.

And as though his mind had been read, the door to their cell quickly swung open. Mac stood in the doorway with one hand on the doorknob and the other carrying a small brown bag.

"Here!" he grunted, and tossed the sack to T.K. "We'd hate for you to go hungry." He said sarcastically and slammed the door shut.

T.K. peered into the bag and stuck his hand in it, producing two hamburgers and two small bottles of water.

"Well, at least it's food." He commented, handing one of the burgers to Matt.

"That's your opinion." Matt retorted, as he inspected the sandwich.

"Come on, you need to keep up your strength." T.K. replied, taking the first bite. Matt watched as the younger boy chewed. "It's not that bad." He said after swallowing.

"Well, it can't be as bad as dad's cooking." He shrugged and took a bite.

In a matter of minutes, both boys had consumed the small meal and were taking a few sips of water.

"I wonder what Mom and Dad are doing?" T.K. said as he gazed up at the ceiling.

"They're probably worried sick. That's typical of parents you know." Matt replied.

"I sure hope not." T.K. answered, "Poor Mom…" he trailed off.

"Think they have any idea who kidnapped us?" Matt queried.

"I'm pretty sure they do. It's just a matter of finding us now." T.K. replied, as he removed his hat to scratch his head.

"Got any ideas on how we could get outta here?" his brother asked.

"I've been thinking about it, but none so far." He sighed. "If Patamon were here, he'd just digivolve and blast those guys." T.K. chuckled at the thought.

"Yeah, I wish we had our digimon." Matt mused.

T.K. sighed as he crumpled the paper bag up; their situation seemed to be hopeless.

"Hmmm…" Matt pondered, "We've gotten out of worse." He commented, as he rested his chin on his hand. After a brief moment of silence, in which Matt's eyes roved about the room, a thought occurred to him, which caused him to perk his head up.

He cautiously stood up, trying to avoid bumping his arm on anything and T.K. watched as he ambled over to the desk in the center of the room.

"Matt, what are you doing?" he asked, as his older brother used his good hand to hoist himself onto the desk.

Matt stood atop the desk and pointed to a large vent covering the boys had neglected to acknowledge before.

"We can get out through the ventilation system." He suggested.

"Are you kidding? This isn't the movies Matt. Do you know how small those things are in real life?" T.K. said folding his arms.

"I know that, but this is a warehouse. They use larger duct work in industrial places like this." he tried to convince his younger brother. "Come on and help me." he said, as he jumped up and tried to knock the vent out of place.

"Careful Matt," T.K. reprimanded, "you're going to fall and hurt yourself more."

"Since when did you turn into mom?" Matt playfully asked, knowing this would get a reaction from T.K.

"Hey!" he interjected, "Can't a guy be concerned for the well-being of his brother?" T.K. argued, as he stepped up onto the desk to assist Matt. What T.K. had really been thinking of is the tremendous amount of guilt he had been feeling because of Matt's injuries. He still blamed himself, even if Matt didn't.

"Yeah!" Matt cheered as the two managed to knock the vent cover off; it landed with a loud clatter on the floor.

"Shhhhh…" T.K. said, bringing his index finger to his lips.

"Like I was supposed to stop that?" Matt said sarcastically.

Both brothers froze in place when they heard footsteps approaching.

"Uh oh." T.K. squeaked.

The two scrambled off the desk and picked up the cover, Matt using one hand of course.

"What do we do with this?" T.K. asked nervously, his eyes darting all over the room, searching for some place to dispose of the evidence.

"Throw it behind the door!" his brother instructed as they carried it over to the other end of the room and propped it up near the door hinges. Just as the knob turned T.K. dove into the swivel chair near the desk, and Matt took his "cool" stance near one of the cabinets, trying his best to fold his arms without causing too much discomfort to his wrist.

"What's going on in here!?" Mac hollered as he burst into the room.

"Nothing." Matt said nonchalantly and shrugged.

"I thought I heard something!" Mac boomed, "You kids better not be trying anything smart." He warned.

T.K. smiled apprehensively at the large man, praying he didn't look behind the door.

"You must be hearing things." He offered, resting his arms on the back of the chair and staring innocently at Mac.

The large man eyed the two suspiciously before slowly closing the door.

"That was close," T.K. said, as the two let out relieved sighs.

"We'll have to be more careful." Matt replied, as he leaned up against the front of the cabinet. T.K. nodded in agreement.

"Do you think he suspected?" T.K. questioned. Matt only grinned.

Malcolm Ishida re-arranged the pillows on the couch for a fifth time that night. No matter what he did, he just could not get comfortable. The couch wasn't the problem, he knew that. What was bothering the middle-aged reporter was the fact that he hadn't the slightest idea where his two sons were. All this worry and waiting took it's toll on him. Sleep would not come that night. Malcolm sat up and tossed the blanket off him. He reached over to the coffee table and picked up his half-full pack of cigarettes. Matt had disproved of his father's addictive habit, but he could not bring himself to quit; his life was just too stressful without them, or so he thought. He cautiously navigated through the dark room until he came to the sliding glass door. Nancy would give him hell if she found him smoking in the house. Malcolm stepped out onto the balcony of the apartment building and slipped his hand into his pocket for his lighter.

The moon cast an eerie glow over the city. Malcolm stared out at the horizon, which was dotted with the radiant flicker of streetlights in the distance. A long sigh enveloped in cigarette smoke escaped his lips. He reached his hand into his back pocket and produced his wallet. With a trembling hand, he held it up and watched as a row of pictures and plastic cards cascaded out, and hung in front of his eyes. Malcolm gazed fondly at the images of his two sons. One was of him holding a newborn Matt in his arms, as Nancy smiled joyfully. Another showed a three-year-old Matt proudly looking down at his baby brother, arms folded. Then there were the more recent photos. Malcolm had never noticed before, but Matt had appeared especially poignant in these pictures. Something about his eyes…Malcolm thought. Even those pictures taken with T.K. seemed less cheerful than previous ones. A drop of water lightly splattered onto the photo, making the faces blurry. Malcolm was surprised to discover that he had begun to cry. He brushed away the warm tears that streamed down his face. His head drooped as he took the last hit from his cigarette and stubbed it out on the railing. With one flick of his fingertips, he set it sailing through the air over the balcony and down to the street below.

Nancy stood in the doorway, her eyes on her former husband. She too could not sleep. Malcolm cocked his head to the side when he heard Nancy's silent footfalls coming towards him.

"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked, attempting to make conversation.

"Yeah…" he replied forlornly.

Nancy stepped up beside him and placed her hand over his.

"I keep telling myself, everything will be okay…" she started, when the object in Malcolm's hand caught her attention. She curiously took it from his grasp and stared at it thoughtfully. Carefully opening it, as if it were made of glass or crystal, she looked upon the contents intently.

Then, unexpectedly, she collapsed into Malcolm's arms, her entire body wrenching in sobs. Malcolm looked down at her in surprise at first, but then cradled her in his arms as she let her tears flow freely. He could not stand anymore of this. It was a misery beyond comprehension; something he had never felt before. Somehow, someway, he would get his children back; this he vowed to himself.

Mac watched as his boss opened the door to one of the offices located at the far end of the warehouse. He proceeded to follow him into the small room, along with a grungy gang of other men. The scar-faced man promptly sat in a large chair behind a desk in the poorly lit room. He rested his hands on the desktop as his eyes scanned the room of faces. Everyone looked at him in anticipation, awaiting his next set of instructions. When he did not speak for several minutes, one man was brave enough to finally question him.

"So, now what Murphy?" the man asked timidly. He was an inch or two shorter than the other men, with dark greasy hair, combed back away from his eyes. Murphy eyed him, studying his features, and evaluating the quaver in his voice when he had questioned him.

The older man pursed his lips, and seemed to be more interested in liberating the object caught in his teeth, than with answering the short man's question. After a few seconds he cleared his throat, and everyone in the room waited anxiously to hear what he would say.

"Phase one of my plan is now complete. We have the two kids in our possession." He grinned to himself, obviously pleased with how things were going so far.

"The next step is to get their parents here."

"You want we should go get 'em?" one of the men offered.

Murphy raised a hand and shook his head. "That won't be necessary, they'll come to us." He stated nonchalantly.

"Then what boss? Do we get to dispose of them then?" Mac finally inquired.

Murphy swiveled his chair to face the larger man who was currently standing in the far right hand corner of the room.

"Patience Mac, patience." He reminded the bigger man, as he wagged his finger at him. "They will all die eventually, but I want them to suffer first." He snarled sadistically.

Mac began to turn on his heel and exit the room, when Murphy interrupted him.

"Where are you going?" he inquired.

"Oh." Mac shrugged, "Just thought I'd check on the boys. Seems they decided to attempt an escape plan."

"Really?" Murphy asked, his face twisting into an expression of mock sincerity.

"Yeah." Mac stated cocking his head towards the ceiling. Murphy began to chuckle.

"How interesting, well do pay them a visit. And when you finish playing hide and seek with them, send them my way. I have a call to make." He sighed and leaned back in the chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "The vent system…that's an old one." He snickered.

Closing Note: Getting interesting? Suspenseful maybe? Do you even care? I'm praying that the throng of ppl who've been reading this aren't disappointed. For some reason, I seem to think I've lost my edge with this story. *sighs* If anyone thinks I could improve on anything let me know! Ciao! ^_^