Riley sat in the cold room, fingering the business card that the NCIS agent had given him. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Riley glared at the card and flicked at it in disgust. Nothing special about his kind. Cowards! All of them. Riley had no respect for men who beat their kids. Aimee's bruised and scraped face made him angry and it brought back his own memories. The whole reason why he'd joined the Marines when he finished high school was to escape his old man's drunken fists. Aimee stirred in her sleep, making Riley hold his breath hoping she wouldn't awaken. He'd lain awake for a long time listening to her pitiful cry. It bothered him but he didn't know how to console her. He did what he felt was right by simply holding her gently and letting her cry herself out. It was the kind of crying that could have ripped the heart out of anyone. The sound of mourning, of loss, the kind that spoke of a pain that was soul deep, of desperation and fear, sorrow and the desire to just give up completely. He'd been thankful when she'd finally fallen asleep. He needed some time to think, to figure out what he was going to do. The last thing he needed was more trouble. He had enough of his own.

All he ever wanted was some peace and tranquillity in his life, to be free of his father and the constant abuse at the man's hands. A small part of him thought that maybe his father would be proud of him if he became a marine. His father had served in the marines and it was the only thing the bitter man spoke about with respect. Riley still remembered the rancorous words in the note his father sent him once he revealed his location. Riley figured it had been written in a drunken stupor and he would have tossed the thing out but his father had signed it 'Dad'. It looked like such a foreign word on paper but somehow the familiarity of it forced him to keep it, proof that at one time he had been part of a family.

Riley shoved the business card back into his pocket and wandered to his backpack, pulling out random articles of clothing. He was cold and he'd wrapped Aimee up in the only blanket he owned, stuffing newspaper around her for insulation.

"Damn it. Where the hell is it?" he muttered.

He knew he'd worn his jacket the other day. He hadn't seen it since and it was the only warm thing he had besides the blanket against the elements. Riley shivered as he searched through everything he had, only to come up empty-handed.

His heart plummeted in disappointment. Losing the sweater meant he lost the warmth and the stupid letter. Why did he insist on torturing himself with the letter anyway? He was better off without it. It just reminded him of the trouble he'd left behind.

He quickly found out that trouble followed him wherever he went. Once a punching bag, always a punching bag it seemed. Turned out his drill sergeant had twitchy palms too and for some reason took an instant dislike to him. Gunnery Sergeant James Adams, his drill instructor, was a tyrant and there wasn't a thing Riley did right. He'd run away from his pathetic hometown, a little place southwest of Hell with its one gas station, dollar store and greasy spoon restaurant run by his beaten and broken mother. Just his miserable luck, instead of escaping the worst life could throw at him, he ran straight back into it. Adams recognized him the first day of training camp and pegged him for what he was: a good for nothing loser, just like his washed out father. His life spun into an unbearable nightmare after that, worse than it had ever been at home.

Riley shivered as memories washed over him. Burning tears pricked at his eyes and he swallowed a huge lump in his throat as he rubbed his hands briskly together to keep warm. Before he could stop it, his mind wandered back.

"Janssen." The sergeant's voice sent shivers down his spine whenever he heard it. Riley had been out all day on his feet, carrying heavy weights in his backpack. To say he was exhausted was a gross understatement. The last thing he wanted to do was go another round with his DI. He'd already ached from the day before.

Riley stood at attention. "Yes, sir." He averted his eyes like he'd been trained to do so well, staring straight ahead like a good little soldier.

"Drop and give me 50."

"Sir?" Riley ached all over from field exercises. There was no way he could have done ten push-ups let alone 50.

"Are you hard of hearing, boy?"

"No, sir."

The sergeant smacked him in the back of the head sharply. Riley winced. From the corner of his eye, he could see the rest of his unit rushing past, each one turning a blind eye to him. Not one of them wanted to be in Riley's position. In the beginning, a few had come to his defence only to mysteriously show up the next day with broken bones or dislocated limbs, all in the line of training, of course.

"Drop and give me 50."

"Yes Sir," screamed Riley, again acting how he'd been taught. The Sergeant screams at the marine and the marine screams back even louder. Don't make eye contact. Answer any questions with yes, sir. Only Riley didn't move to comply. He was too exhausted. He had nothing left to give and he hurt all over. He grimaced as he was rewarded with yet another stinging smack to the back of his head. The sergeant leaned in closer forcing him to step back up. Each step closer forced Riley to step back. The sergeant and Riley kept up the dance until the DI forced him around a corner, and into a secluded area behind the barracks where no one could see them. Once they were alone, the man shoved him to the ground with such force that Riley smacked his head on the ground.

Riley shook his head to clear the memory. He didn't want to remember anymore. Things only got steadily worse from there.

A loud pounding on the door yanked Riley from his reverie. He jumped to his feet, grabbing Aimee and pulling her into a dark corner of the room. She didn't stir and Riley shoved a piece of old furniture in front of her. He prayed she stayed sleeping. Riley's heart hammered in his chest when the door to the old abandoned apartment was knocked to the ground revealing two gunman pointing weapons at him.

"GET DOWN!" shouted one of them, glancing around the room quickly.

Riley made a move to resist and the other man barged in further and knocked him to the ground, shoving the gun in his face.

"Where's the girl?"

"W-what girl?"

He was rewarded with a sharp blow to the face.

"Don't piss me off, punk. We saw you bring her here. I'm only going to ask you one more time. Where the hell is the girl?"

xXx—NCIS—xXx

Gibbs walked up the stairs in the middle of the bullpen, heading towards Jenny's office. He felt like he finally had some kind of renewed energy and it hadn't come from the coffee Abby had given him, although, her coffee was pretty good. His favourite forensic scientist had found Aimee's DNA on the jacket. It had been Aimee they'd almost found. Tony and Tim went out to comb the area again while Gibbs planned to call in a few favours. He had some Intel that knew those back alleys well. Someone would have seen Aimee.

As Gibbs rounded the corner and headed into Cynthia's office area, he was surprised to see Makayla sitting by herself outside her aunt's office. She looked up at him and his heart ached a little when he saw her red-rimmed eyes. What was it about this teenager that had him so wrapped? He had quickly become attached to her.

"If you're here to see my Aunt Jenny, I'd suggest picking another time. She's not in the best of moods right now," said Makayla shrinking back into the chair further looking more than a little forlorn and pathetic.

"Thought you'd be working on sorting those boxes for me."

Makayla crossed her legs in the chair which only served to make her look about as old as Aimee. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail at the nape of her neck and she was doodling in her art notebook. "Not allowed yet."

"Why?"

"I'm supposed to sit here and not move until she tells me I can."

Gibbs scratched at his 5 o'clock shadowed face and leaned against Cynthia's desk. Obviously, Jenn had her own show of authority in mind with Makayla.

"We okay?" he asked, wondering if the teen felt awkward about what he'd done to her earlier. It hadn't exactly been his right, and he may have crossed some personal boundaries. He certainly wasn't one to make a practice of spanking teenagers however he felt like she needed a strong demonstration in order to change her line of thinking. Worrying about her running off on her own was not something any of them needed.

Makayla chewed her lip. "My aunt said that if I step so much as a pinky toe out of line, she plans to employ your umm services again."

Gibbs bit back a smirk at the expression on her face. Makayla wasn't at all impressed with her aunt's assertion. Jenny wasn't one to mince words so he pretty much believed she meant it, but her meaning it and him following through were two different things. Gibbs crossed his arms and stared at the young teen. Makayla kept drawing trying her best to ignore him staring at her.

"What are you drawing?"

Makayla shrugged. "I like to draw caricatures when I'm mad."

"So, who's the lucky recipient?"

"You," she said with no heat.

Gibbs chuckled. "I suppose I deserve that."

Makayla held up her drawing so Gibbs could see it. Gibbs examined the light-hearted picture and noticed the resemblance. Makayla was talented, without a doubt.

Gibbs walked to the nearby mirror that hung on the wall beside the entrance and looked at his nose up close. "Is my nose really that big?"

This time Makayla laughed. "No, you goof; don't you know what a caricature is?"

Gibbs smiled. His attempt at levity had worked. Just then Jenny opened her office door and just missed hitting Gibbs with it. Gibbs noticed that she still looked upset. Her face was pink and flushed looking and she just had a flustered look about her. Probably no one else could see it, but he always could read her like a familiar book.

"Jethro, when did you get here?"

"I was just coming to see ya, Jenn. Abby found DNA on…"

Jenn held up a hand to forestall his words. "I know. I just got off the phone with Agent McGee. They found the place where Aimee was staying."

Gibbs' face paled. Why had McGee called Jenn and not him? Gibbs felt around for his cell and came up empty. What the hell? Damn it, he thought, he must have left his phone on his desk. Gibbs spun on his heel and ran from the room.

"She's not there, Jethro," Jenn called after him.

Gibbs never looked back.

xXx—NCIS—xXx

"What the hell do you people want?" shouted Riley as soon as the tape was ripped from his mouth. He was still blindfolded so he had no idea where he was or who else was in the room with him. Once the two gunmen had infiltrated the abandoned apartment, it hadn't taken long for them to find Aimee and grab her. Things had happened so quickly and soon he was bound, blindfolded and gagged. He had no idea what was going on and his heart about leapt from his chest when he heard Aimee screaming.

"I don't think you are in the position to ask questions, Mr. Janssen," said a husky male voice in the distance.

Riley licked his parched lips feeling his heart hammering against his chest.

"He is just a kid; knock off the Rambo garbage, already!" snapped a female voice, a softer, kinder voice that was much closer to him. "He was just trying to help the girl."

The husky voice laughed menacingly. "So you think. How do you know he's not some pervert just waiting to make his move on the kid."

Riley's stomach churned at the thought. "What do you want with Aimee?"

"Relax, kid; it's got nothing to do with you. As soon as we've relocated, we'll call someone and let them know where you are."

Riley's heart rate picked up when he felt someone touch his face. He turned his head so he could escape the cold hand.

"Cuff him to the chair." The female voice held an immense amount of authority. "Take the kid to Almeida.

Riley felt his hands being unbound and then cuffed to the chair he was sitting in. He grimaced at the pain that shot through his shoulder when someone grabbed it roughly and pulled it back to cuff it. Sharp pulses of pain radiated up his shoulder and went straight to his brain. His shoulder must have been dislocated or something because the pain was bordering on unbearable. He heard doors opening and closing around him until soon there was only silence. He swallowed convulsively as his mind spun. What did this all mean? Who were these people and what did they want with Aimee? Had the kid been right about David Brody, the FBI guy? Did this have to do with human trafficking too?

He startled when he felt someone stroke his hair lightly.

"Who is it? Who's there?" He felt so vulnerable being blindfolded.

"Too bad, kid. Under different circumstances, we might have been able to help you with your little AWOL problem?" The female voice again.

Riley's breathing increased. How did she know? Who were these people?

"What's gonna happen to Aimee?" he asked again, hoping to find out something—anything.

"We've all got a destiny, Riley. Yours is to live another day. Aimee's is to help save the world." Riley shuddered as the female continued stroking his hair and face.

"She's just a little kid. Who are you people?"

The cold hand left his face making Riley's heart rate increase further. Sudden warm breath on his neck and ear gave him goosebumps. "We make a difference. That's all that matters."

"Make a difference to who?" Riley's voice grew more courageous. Whoever this woman was, something about her wasn't feeling threatening to him anymore.

He heard the woman sigh softly in his ear before pulling away. Her soft footsteps paced around him several times before she stopped.

"You will be released in a few hours, Riley. I suggest you relax and use this time to pray to your maker. Today is your lucky day. Be thankful."

With those words, Riley heard her walk away from him, heels clicking on a hard floor. He heard the door open and close again. This time Riley felt sure he was alone.