*If you're familiar with Refuge, you're about to be reunited with a certain someone who had a very brief part to play in the fic, after being rescued himself. Kelley will have a slightly larger role in this fic as it progresses. Once you enter their world...it's sure hard to sit on the outside.
Greg Heffernan easily blended in with the other tourists and families as they piled off the cruise ship at the harbor. There was nothing to set him apart from the other Americans around him; he looked just like another vacationer disembarking in Jamaica for a little sightseeing.
But while his traveling companions were excitedly seeking out their next activity, Greg was only looking forward to reconnecting with his people and catching up with Brandon. It had been a long time since he'd done undercover work, and he wasn't enjoying the other two Agents alongside whom he'd been working.
Too much like I used to be, he thought ruefully. They're out carousing and drinking when they get the chance, and they don't like taking "no" for an answer from me. I can't wait to get Bran by my side. It'll be a new experience for us to work together professionally, but it's nothing we haven't done in secret, he added with amusement.
In his mind's eye, Greg recalled images of locations he'd closely studied as he quietly found his way through the marketplace on the other side of the docks. He ignored vendors touting their products as he felt his way around the direction he needed to go.
As Greg turned off a crowded street to continue toward the remote headquarters where others from his team were posted, he noticed a tall figure leaning against a brick building. It felt like the man was watching him, and the stranger even stood up straighter as Greg got closer to him. He stiffened for the possibility of a conflict, but was surprised when the man removed his ball cap.
Greg was extremely confused by the sudden appearance of his boss. "Sir? I didn't know you were coming down here."
Matthew Kelley smiled. "Man sits behind a desk too long, he starts to forget important things." He motioned with his head for Greg to follow him, and the two passed out of sight between storefronts.
"How's it going, Heffernan? How's the trip been so far?"
"It's been productive," Greg allowed. "I'm ready to pick up Brandon, though. His Spanish skills are going to come in handy with a couple of these guys we're observing. I'm sure you won't be disappointed in this arrangement, Sir."
"Greg…Brandon isn't here. He never got on the plane in New York."
"What do you mean? What happened?"
"I don't know, Heffernan, I was thinking you might tell me. He and I were supposed to be on the same flight. It was delayed by severe weather in another state, but the replacement eventually showed up. When I talked to Brandon that evening, he said he'd be on that flight, no matter what time it left. Then he didn't show.
"I tried calling him a few times before the plane took off, but all I got was his voicemail. It seemed like his phone might have been turned off. I didn't understand it, but they weren't going to hold the plane either."
"So Brandon didn't show up, and he never contacted you?" Greg shook his head. "That doesn't sound like him, Sir."
"No, especially considering how excited he was to be coming. I don't know what to tell you, Greg. I never made this trip a requirement for him. The two of you initiated everything."
Greg dug out his phone to try calling Brandon himself. He was disturbed by the way the phone flipped straight to a voicemail message. "This isn't right," he said to himself.
"It is weird, and I'm hoping there's some explanation—"
"Something's wrong," he interrupted Kelley. "We don't ever turn our phones off. They're our lifelines to stay connected with everyone."
"Are you talking about your 'special' friends?"
Greg's eyes widened out of reflex, and he looked around as if someone knew what his boss was talking about. Matthew Kelley had become aware of his unique relationship with the turtles the year before, when they'd been forced to rescue his Director and Brandon from a crumbling building after the earthquake.
"You told me to keep the guys out of your business. Why do you keep bringing them up?" Greg demanded.
"I'm not allowed to ask a question?"
"You're the one who said you had to be hands off. Now you keep trying to find ways to get me to talk about them, or you go searching for them behind my back!"
Kelley's arms crossed stiffly. "Are you their gatekeeper? I can't have anything to do with them unless I go through you? I never forced them to meet me, Greg."
"You're confusing me, Director. One minute you don't want to be within 100 yards of them, and the next you're spending your evenings getting tips from 911 operators so you can hunt them down? Does that seem logical to you?"
"I did that one time, Heffernan," he protested, then took a sharp breath. "You don't trust me at all. You'd rather I stayed away and never mentioned them again."
"Director, it's not that simple, okay? I want to protect you almost as much as I have to protect them."
"I don't follow you, Heffernan. Do they pose a danger to me?"
"No," Greg said quickly. "That isn't what I meant. You have priorities that have to come first, like your family and your position. You're the Director of the FBI field operatives. You can't afford to get entangled in this; you said so yourself."
"Do you feel trapped by them, Greg?"
"No!" Greg nearly shouted in indignation. "The guys would never force someone to act against their will. But when you get to know them, when you really enter their world…Director, it changes things. It puts everything into a new perspective. I do have an overdeveloped need to protect them, but please believe that I'm trying to look out for you too. I don't want you to be forced to compromise."
"I'm already doing that, Greg. You don't think ignoring their vigilante activity or your illegal efforts to assist them qualifies as a compromise?"
"I'm sorry about that, Sir, but I didn't choose for you to be a part of this. We've gotten completely off subject, in any case. I need to track down Brandon."
Kelley remained silent while Greg dialed Leonardo. The phone rang a number of times, and he nearly hung up to try someone else right before the turtle finally answered.
"Hey, Greg." Leonardo's voice was strained.
"Leo, what's going on stateside? Is something wrong?"
The turtle took a shaky breath. "Yeah, it is," he said tightly. "Greg, Don's hurt. We didn't want to scare you unnecessarily, and there are a lot of things up in the air—"
"How is he hurt, Leo?"
"He was attacked. We don't know why, or who was behind it. He suffered a severe head injury, and…Don was alone, Greg. None of us knew that anything had happened to him, not until Mike woke up hours later. There were complications."
Greg leaned against the building for support. "How bad, Leo? How bad is this?"
"The docs don't know yet. They had to operate to relieve pressure on his brain. He's on life support, and they can't tell us if there's serious brain damage, or if Don will wake up again period."
Greg felt like the Earth was tilting underneath him as Leonardo went on.
"I'm sorry, Greg. I'm sorry that we didn't tell you right away. We…I'm barely hanging in here as it is."
"It explains why Brandon didn't show," Greg murmured into the receiver.
"What do you mean he didn't show?"
"Why he didn't get on the plane," Greg clarified. "I was calling to find out what happened to him, and now I know."
"Bran didn't get on the plane?" Leo's voice rose several degrees.
Greg allowed the surprise in the turtle's tone to sink in for a beat. "Are you telling me that he's not with you, Leo?"
"Greg, we haven't seen or heard from Brandon in three days, not since the night when Donny…" Leonardo swore as he cut away from the phone.
"Leo?" Greg called after him. "Hey, what's going on?"
The blue-masked turtle didn't answer him, but he could hear Leonardo talking in the background to someone else. "…No, he didn't get on the plane! Hurry up, Doc, we've missed something huge! We have to find him!"
By the time Leonardo returned to the phone, Greg was on the verge of exploding.
"What is going on? We don't know where Brandon is?"
"We're going to find him," Leonardo said firmly. "The thing with Don went down the same night that Bran was supposed to leave. The two of them had an argument, and Brandon ended up leaving the Den without his phone. Don was taking it back to him. I should have gone with him, but I didn't.
"Everyone fell asleep here, without a clue that Donny was in trouble. He never set off his watch. Kat and Tim checked Brandon's place – it was clean. There was no evidence that anything had happened! His luggage was gone. Kat talked with the airline, and found out that the flight had departed. We thought he got on the plane, Heff!"
"He didn't," Greg said faintly. "Do you have a location?"
"Just a minute, Greg." Leo's voice became muffled as he spoke to someone else, but Greg could make out some of what he was saying. "No, Doc, check the history. Can someone look up this address while he's doing that please?"
Greg waited impatiently to hear from the turtle again. The two-minute wait felt more like ten.
"He's in Greenwich Village, Greg, has been ever since Sunday night. We don't know what this place is yet, but Doc said he hasn't budged according to the history on his beacon."
"That makes no sense whatsoever."
"I know it doesn't, Heff! Wait a second."
Greg heard the sound of a female talking, though he couldn't tell what she was saying.
"Greg, this place is a night club, Soiree? Are you familiar with it?"
His brow furrowed. "No, Leo, we've never been there. Bran's not really the 'night club' type. He's been at the same address this entire time?"
"His implant is practically stationary. There's very little movement."
"Something's fishy here, Leo."
"I couldn't agree more. We're getting ready to move on the address as soon as I get off the phone."
"It's still daylight there!" Greg pointed out.
"I don't care!" he exploded. "We have to find him, Greg! The guys who attacked Donny, they might have something to do with Brandon going missing too. What are the chances that Bran would strangely disappear on the same night that Don was nearly killed?"
"Okay, well…" Greg hesitated. There's nothing I can do to help them from here. I can only wait to hear something, he thought with frustration. "Call me with news, and don't do anything crazy."
"Greg, if you could see Don, you wouldn't tell us to go easy on anyone."
"I'm just telling you not to get caught."
"We'll handle this. I'll call you when we know something for sure."
"Do that, and I'm gonna start booking a way home."
When Greg hung up the phone, he suddenly remembered that Kelley had been standing there the whole time.
The man's eyes were slightly bulging as he stared at him. "That didn't sound good, Heffernan. What's going on?"
"I don't know," he said vaguely. "Brandon's missing. He isn't at home, and hasn't been around in days. The guys thought he got on the plane."
"Then who's hurt?"
Greg grimaced. "Donatello. Brandon disappeared and Donny got hurt on the way to his apartment, all in the same night. Leo thinks the events are related somehow."
"Donatello couldn't tell them anything?"
Greg broke eye contact with Kelley and stared at the ground. "His injuries are life-threatening – it didn't sound like Don was in a position to talk. The docs don't know if he's going to make it."
Kelley caught his breath. "Then what happens now?"
"Leo had someone trace Brandon's beacon while I was on the phone with him. They've got a location, and they're going to retrieve him."
"Retrieve him? Do they have evidence that he was kidnapped?"
"Not specifically, no, but the history on his beacon puts him at this night club in Greenwich Village. He hasn't left the place since the night he disappeared. Something weird is going on there."
"No kidding…" Kelley trailed off. "The club has to close sometime. It's not like Brandon to leave like that, is it?"
"No, Sir."
"So you need to get home."
Greg looked up. "As soon as possible. I have to apologize, Director. I've enjoyed this opportunity to be in the field again, but two of my best friends' lives could be at risk. I can't ignore that."
Kelley shook his head, a troubled look coming over his eyes. "I don't expect you to, Heffernan. What would someone want with Brandon?"
"I honestly don't know," he replied. "The guys have enemies, but most of them are locked up. They wouldn't have a reason to track down Brandon either."
"Unless they knew that they could get to your friends through him," Kelley said. "Is it possible that they're being set up as we speak?"
Greg had to admit that he hadn't considered the possibility, and rapidly reached for his phone.
"Would it be unheard of to go to the police with this information?" Kelley asked.
"And tell them what, Director? That we followed our friend's tracking device and someone could be holding him against his will? What would you say if I'd told you that?"
"I'd think you were off your rocker, but I'd probably still investigate."
"Investigating would take too long. If we let the guys handle it, there's no delay of action. If you'll give me a minute, I want to warn them of what you just mentioned." Greg turned away from Kelley as he called Leonardo back, and he immediately voiced the concern over whether Brandon might be bait.
"We're going to proceed carefully, Heff, but we can't wait around to make sure we'll be safe. Brandon could be hurt, or even…" Leonardo stopped short, but Greg's mind filled in the rest.
We don't know if he's alive, or how much longer he might be.
"I get it, Leo; just watch your shells, huh?"
"We're looking out for each other, Greg."
"That's all I ask. No solo stuff."
"None. We're not going there, Greg, not after Don…" Leo faltered. "We're going to stick together."
Greg hung up the phone a second time and nearly collapsed against the building. They'll be okay. They know what they're doing. Brandon's alive. No one has a reason to kill him.
"Greg?" Kelley's voice broke through the panic Greg was trying to fight down. "Are you gonna be all right?"
"Yeah, I need a second," he said breathlessly. The picture of Brandon in mortal danger was being replaced with an image of a helpless Donatello on life support. He felt utterly powerless to move as fear wracked his mind.
"Greg," Kelley repeated after a couple of minutes had passed. "Let's get on finding you a plane home."
He stood up straight, and his own weight felt unbearable. Kelley's arm tentatively grazed his back.
"It's best not to imagine the worst, Greg. I know things can seem even more complicated when you're this far away. Are you sure I shouldn't be contacting the authorities for Brandon?"
"The guys are already moving, Sir. There won't be a massacre, I assure you. Even at their angriest, they don't have that in them."
"That isn't what concerns me, Heffernan. They don't know what they're walking into, do they?"
"No, but they can't afford to waste another minute either. I guarantee they'll reach Brandon faster than the cops can."
"I'm not doubting that, Greg, I'm only considering everyone's safety."
The younger man stared at Kelley. "You honestly care what happens to them, don't you? It's starting to feel more like you're hands-on, Director."