A/N: Oy. Things get tense in this chapter guys. I would say enjoy but that seems cruel.

December 3rd – 2:37 p.m.

Amanda and Carisi drove through the city, no words being traded between them. It was a weird shift to their normal dynamic. Usually, Carisi came up with a topic and they discussed it in length when they were going for a drive. They had fun on those outings, going to knock down doors to relieve some of the stress before they were forced to deal with criminals.

There was no relieving the stress now.

Amanda wasn't particularly close to Barba, but she knew the man long enough to consider him an integral part of their team. He was an asshole sometimes but he cared about the victims, even if he didn't always show it. More importantly, he understood their jobs and just how hard it could be to do it. They all had their arguments with him, whether they were wrong or he was, but they always came together in the end to fight for justice.

Carisi had taken to him like a student. Barba had the ideal career for Carisi. Fighting for victims who had no chance in doing it alone. He found a mentor and teacher in the man, observing his trial tactics and admiring his style.

Even Fin was taking it hard. He liked Barba despite the limited contact with him. The seasoned detective appreciated the hard-ass exterior the lawyer liked to put up. It was like the man's own style and probably why the two got along so well, bonding in companionable silence.

No one was taking it harder than Liv, though. Amanda understood. The two were close and shared something that was beyond the detective's knowledge or interest for the most part. You'd have to be blind not to see the spark, the way they fought each other and got each other on a level no other person could reach with either of them. There was something deeper between the two.

So, Amanda knew, for Liv's sake, for all their sakes and for Barba's very life…they needed a lead and soon.

"Barba's an idiot."

The comment was unexpected, sounding so loud in the quiet car as the city passed by in a blur. Amanda looked over at her partner, noticing his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel and the way his eyes were narrowed angrily on the street ahead.

"He should have told us the threats started up again."

Amanda didn't speak but she secretly agreed. Barba was an idiot. He was stupid for letting those threats go by the wayside, whether he thought he could handle them on his own or not. It was likely he didn't even see them as a threat. It was a possibility Barba thought they were full of shit and not worth wasting anyone's time. After the initial threats ceased after Heredio's arrest, he was breathing easier, even with security officers following his every move.

No one missed the annoyed looks he would give the two agents whenever he had to make a trip to the precinct, mumbling under his breath when one of them got in his way or looked over his shoulder at incoming text messages. When they were released from the job, he was happy. It was like a weight lifted from his shoulders and the threats were never heard from again.

Little did they all know they came back and this time they were serious.

"You know Barba…he's a fighter," she calmly added, resting her chin on her fist and watching a group of children cross the street as they came to a stoplight. They were starting to move into the more dangerous parts of the Bronx and it always made her uneasy when she saw children unattended like that.

"I know…it just kills me what this is doing to Lieu. God knows where he even is. He could be dead for- "

"Stop."

Carisi immediately ceased all talking, taken aback by the sudden harsh edge to her voice. It was like a knife piercing his thoughts as her hard eyes met his. There were only a few times he ever met this side of Amanda, and it was never directed towards him.

"You start thinking like that and this investigation goes to shit. We have a job to do and we're going to do it because our ADA's life depends on it. Toughen up and focus, Carisi."

Carisi was silent as he pushed on the gas pedal and drove through the green light, letting Amanda's words sink in to his system. In the back of his mind he knew she was right. They always treated every abduction case as if the victim were still alive until, without a reasonable doubt, that they weren't. For some reason, the possibility that Barba was already dead drifted to the forefront of possibilities and that disturbed him.

Even if he didn't immediately like the way the blonde's words stung him, he took her advice and pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. She was right; they had a job to do and they would do it to the fullest of their abilities. Their personal feelings with this case were going to prevalent, but they couldn't rule their thinking.

It was silent for a full five minutes as they got closer and closer to Heredio's residence before he apologized quietly. Everything was forgiven in less than ten seconds with a small, understanding smile shared between them.

Carisi parked the car across the street in front of some boarded up convenient store, smelling the pot wafting from inside the building and taking in the sketchy characters that either watched them intently or quickly took off in different directions.

They turned off the car and quickly made their way across the street, keeping vigilant and watching their backs. Cops weren't welcomed in parts of the city like this, but were desperately needed most of the time. Crime was so high, a lot of it went unsolved and unreported much to the city's government's dismay.

The duo walked a short way up the sidewalk and carefully read the numbers on the raggedy brownstones to make sure they were at the right address. They climbed the stairs and pounded on the door a few times, listening in when they're knocks went unanswered, doing their best to block out the sounds of the city so they could hear inside. They knocked again a few times, standing there for a few minutes before descending the steps, deciding what their next course of action they could take.

They were pressed for time, but if Heredio wasn't there, who knew where he was. The Bronx was huge and there was BX9 milling the streets everywhere.

"Hey guera!"

Amanda, who'd been rubbing her forehead and discussing possible courses of actions to take with Carisi, looked over to a car parked on the side of a street with some Hispanic making kissy faces at her, clearly drunk. In the front seat was another man who looked annoyed as he taped away on his phone. Carisi waved him off but Amanda passed the detective and slinked over to the car.

She took a good look, noting the empty but previously occupied backseat as she came closer to the passenger. He was dressed like a gang member, that infamous logo etched onto the front of his hat like a proud badge. Amanda's eyes lit up and took advantage of her looks and the opportunity it was presenting her. There was a big possibility the two men knew where Heredio could be.

"Hey sugar," she drawled, letting her southern accent thicken up her speaking voice. Men tended to be a sucker for an accent and she was going to lay on all the charm if it could get her some answers. The drunk man hiccupped a bit and leaned out a little, taking a good long look at her form. Amanda was a little uncomfortable at the way his eyes lingered, but she didn't allow it for long.

"You two gentlemen wouldn't happen to know where Felipe Heredio would be located," she said hopefully yet smoothly. The men shared a look before they both scoffed, the driver going back to his phone, clearly uninterested while the passenger continued to lean out the window. She felt Carisi watching the interaction and was thankful he kept his distance. He knew what she was doing and she knew he didn't like it, but it was working in getting them to talk.

"Who's that?"

Amanda laughed easily, letting the man chuckle along with her before she continued in her questioning, "You know him. Brother was a Lieutenant. He spent about 3 months in Ryker's on petty charges? We just needed to ask him some questions, that's all."

"Mira Bonita," the man slurred, "I don't know him and I don't want to. But I would love to get to know you."

The man reached out and grazed her thigh with his fingertips. She moved away quickly, hand going to her sidearm in defense and Carisi joined her quickly, standing a little in front of her while he set the man straight. The dangerous edge to his voice let some of the sudden tension in her body release and she patted his arm, assuring her everything was fine. These two weren't going to give her any answers.

She was about to suggest they head back to the precinct and bid the two farewell before the drunk man waved wildly towards a kid walking hesitantly towards the car, hands in his pockets and a hood covering his head.

"Hey, bitch boy!"

Amanda nodded politely at the kid and stepped back to let him slide into the backseat of the car. He looked nervous, more than likely having drugs on his person, but they weren't there for that. Their reason for being there wasn't home now and they were back to the drawing board.

"Catch you later," the drunk man sang as the car took off from its spot, speeding away and turning the corner down the street. They watched it disappear before Carisi patted her back.

"You ok?"

"Yeah," she reassured, letting her hand linger on his arm before they headed back across the street, "I just need a shower now."

December 3rd – 2: 45 p.m.

Fin sprung to attention at his desk when the files he requested pinged in his work e-mail inbox. He quickly opened them and sent them to the printer nearest his desk, eager to start looking through them. He requested the usual: blocked numbers, numbers not listed in contacts, making sure they weren't combing through anything personal from family or friends. They didn't want to pry into his life, especially when he wasn't there to monitor it.

He picked up the papers out of the tray and headed towards Liv office, ready to present them to her so they could begin the process of reading through them and identifying phone numbers. It was a long, drawn out process that would take up most of their day and that was a daunting thought. Everyone felt like they were on borrowed time and the constant calls from Dodds weren't helping.

He quietly knocked on Liv's door before he cracked it open and poked his head in. She looked sad and pathetic, forehead resting in her hand as she stared at her phone. It was like she was willing for it to ring, waiting for Barba's name and picture to pop up on her screen like normal. They way her eyes never wavered from the darkened screen rubbed Fin the wrong way and a sudden anger bubbled in his stomach at her behavior.

This wasn't the Liv he knew. This wasn't the strong woman he'd worked with for almost two decades now. This wasn't the woman who'd been put through the ringer and made better because of that. This was some scared, selfish version of her and it grated on his nerves. Fin was easily the most laid back of the detectives, taking everything in stride and willing to wait things out while everyone else sat on edge.

But seeing this was awakening a sour mood in him he hadn't felt in a while, especially towards Liv. He wasn't going to stand for it, overstepping be damned.

Fin walked into the office and let the door slam harshly, making Liv jolt a little in her seat. Fiery eyes met equally as fiery, the two staring each other down and willing the other to back off. It was a silent battle of wills for a few moments before Liv broke eye contact and looked at her phone again, almost sighing when the screen remained black. Fin scoffed and slapped the stack of papers on top of the phone, but Liv didn't move.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

The question was harsh and devoid of any emotion, transforming the normally calm energy in the office into electric. Liv glared up at him through her lashes, jaw set and ready to fight if need be. That didn't deter Fin.

"Why are you sitting in here on your ass, staring at your phone while we're all working?"

Liv stood slowly, fists curled and looking fiercer than he'd ever seen here. His mouth twisted into an angry smile at the reaction, needing it to know she was still there with them and light a fire under her ass. She wasn't about to sit there and mope around, not on his watch.

"I wonder what Barba would say if he saw you right now," he said softly, narrowing his eyes at the woman as he crossed his arms. Liv went stock still, hands uncurling and laying limply by her sides. Tears gathered in her eyes for a split second before all the tension she was holding in her frame left her loose and hunched over her desk, hands scattering the stack of papers across her desk.

He saw a few tears fall from her cheeks and hit the desk in fat droplets. Her shoulders shook in concealed sobs for a minute and Fin waited patiently. He'd been around people going through breakdowns before. He'd witnessed them and been through them himself. Liv had more than her fair share, but this situation was slightly different than the rest.

It was always hard when something like this happened to the people you loved the most.

"He'd probably tell me to grow a set and get to work," she said in a thick voice, giggling a little as she looked up and locked eyes with her old friend. Fin chuckled, nodding in agreement. Liv stood straight and wiped her eyes, not feeling embarrassed at all by her longtime friend witnessing her outburst. She knew she was being pathetic and ridiculous, but there was so much worry and pain, it was debilitating.

"Barba's probably the only person that could say that to you and live to see the next day," Fin joked but the words he said were never truer. Barba could and had said things like that to her and it only proved to make her stronger and tougher. That was something she appreciated about him and loved him for.

"Well…he's special," she whispered, biting her lip as she realized she may have let a little too much slip. But Fin simply nodded, knowing exactly what she was alluding to. It was a little scary that maybe other people had seen those feelings for the lawyer she desperately tried to hide away, but she was beginning not to care.

The longer Barba wasn't near her, the more the ache in her heart grew for him.

"I know he is, Liv. Can we please get to work combing through these messages, now? Homeboy's out there probably wondering when the hell we're gonna come pick him up," he said and Liv laughed, taking a seat again with a sad smile on her face and picked up the stack. She separated out two piles: one for him and one for her. They immediately got to work, the air clearer and Liv more determined than ever.

December 3rd – 2:54 p.m.

"You ever fuck a cop?"

Victor laughed suggestively, taking a long drag from the blunt poised between his thumb and pointer finger. He passed it to Romero, skipping over Zeke in the backseat who could handle as much of the drug as the other two could. Besides, Zeke wasn't such a huge fan of any sort of drugs after being the pick-up boy. He hated picking up…

It always made him nervous; it always felt like he was about to get busted by either one of his own or some cop undercover. He almost ran when he spotted those two cops earlier, talking to Romero about something he didn't get the gist of. All he could feel was his heart double in speed the closer he got back to the car.

"Yeah, one time. Took her behind my old apartment building. Gave her a hundred bucks to keep quiet," Victor bragged, slapping Romero's outstretched hand as the two laughed like it was the funniest story ever told. Zeke was taken aback by the implication but shouldn't have been so shocked. That was these people did. Raped. Murdered. Tortured.

It was their way of life and he knew that.

So why was he feeling so sick to his stomach? Why did he have the sudden urge to make a run for it? Why did he want to find those cops again and admit to everything? From the drugs in his pocket to the drugged-up lawyer in their trunk. He was foolish to think he could live a life like this. He was stupid to think he could ever be hard like these criminals.

He joined because he idolized his dead cousins. They fought and died for good causes; getting money for their family and making sure he had clothes on his back and food in his mouth as a child. He aspired to be like them; tough, tattooed and rolling cash.

It amazed him that not once did he ever stop and think of what they could have been doing to earn that money. And what of their free time? Were they just like Victor? Did they do this very thing for a living?

Zeke sat in a contemplative silence, watching as they rolled to a stop in front of a small, broken down white house, outside of the bustling city but still in no better of a neighborhood than they grew up in. There was an old red CR-V missing its two back tires, propped up by cinderblocks. The small enclosed yard was overgrown with thick weeds and unkempt bushes, a rickety, old patio chair sat on the small porch. Alongside it sat a bucket of overflowing cigarette butts and a few empty beer bottles loitered the railings.

"Who lives here?"

"Some druggie. We use his house to hide our shit and do our business. We keep him in supply of drugs and he keeps quiet if the cops come sniffin' around this way," Victor replied, putting the car in park and looking towards the house as if he was waiting for something. Zeke sat confused, not sure what the two men were looking for until he caught a swift movement from the window. Zeke caught the retreating form of a hunched over guy in the window, disappearing into the darkened house.

Victor drove around the side of the house, the small alleyway covered by a large fence and more thick bushes provided a nice cover from prying eyes. He swiftly turned the car around to face away from a back-screen door, propped open by an old car tire.

"We're leaving him here?"

Neither Victor or Romero answered his question as they got out of the car, popping the trunk door on the way out. Zeke followed suit, realizing he was falling behind. He rounded the car and watched as they opened the trunk door, revealing Barba doing his best to hide his eyes from the natural sunlight burning into the trunk.

He shivered involuntarily, from the cold and the sudden appearance of a pocket knife glinting in the sun and heading straight towards him. Had he not been drugged prior, he would have moved faster in trying to scramble away, but he only realized they weren't out to hurt him.

His ankles separated from each other and he hissed as he stretched his legs, feeling pain and relief all in the same movement. He was only able to enjoy the feeling of being freed for a second because strong pairs of hands were hauling him out of the trunk and forcing him to his feet.

"Go," one the men commanded, shoving him a little. He almost fell forward, feeling the pins and needles riddling the entirety of the two limbs. He took a shuddering breath and mentally prepared himself for the walk, consciously aware of the men behind him, watching his every move. They acted as if he could run away from them and he wanted to laugh at the thought.

Barba moaned in pain, his legs feeling wobbly as he took the first few steps towards the house, slowly and limping. His entire body was sore from being crammed in the same position for almost a full day straight and he could feel the burn marks from the rope that bound his legs together. He would have burn marks on his wrists for sure and he hoped they would take some mercy on him and cut his arms loose, too.

Victor huffed impatiently and shoved Barba violently, watching in amusement as the man stumbled forward but kept his balance and sped up the pace. He was first inside the house, eyeing the hunched over druggie shifting from one foot to the other by the door. He looked nervous or strung out or both. Barba felt the same. The drug's effect had worn off but it left him disoriented and sick to his stomach.

Romero moved out in front of him as they walked further in and lead him towards an old, wooden door where a wooden staircase descended into total darkness. Barba gulped, ignoring the pain in his throat as he hesitantly began his walk down the stairs, using his feet to tell where the next step was so he didn't fall or trip.

When the group finally reached the bottom of the staircase, Romero hit the light switch, revealing a dimly lit, concrete floored basement with shelves line with boxes and other equipment. This was more than likely a supply house where they kept their guns and drugs, money and other things away from the city just in case.

"Welcome to your home for the next few days," Victor murmured, coming around the front of Barba and quickly slicing the rope around his wrists. Barba almost thanked the gangster but kept it to himself, not feeling the slightest bit of gratitude towards any of them. He was too busy already scouting a way out of there. It was windowless and all weapons that were in there were locked up anyhow.

He had a feeling he wasn't going to make it out of the basement alive and he desperately hoped he was wrong.

"No blankets? No pillows?"

Victor and Romero laughed at that little joke and it made Zeke uneasy. The regret filled thoughts he was having earlier were still replaying in his head and he wished the loud mouth lawyer would shut up for once. He didn't know (or maybe he did) you weren't supposed to talk to two dangerous gang bangers like that. They weren't to be fucked with, whether it be a fight or simple words.

This thought was punctuated with a very mean right hook to Barba's face, knocking him to the ground and sending shooting pain through his entire face. He groaned in pain with barely enough time to cover his face as Victor and Romero went about kicking and punching him, reverting to tactics Zeke was sure would be used earlier on.

But the teenager turned away from the scene, unable to stomach the noises let alone the sight of a grown man being pummeled into a hard-concrete floor. The beating lasted all of thirty seconds, but they did a good amount of damage in that short span. He was bloodied, a few cuts bleeding along his cheeks and mouth, a busted lip and bloody nose. He would have black eyes for sure, but he would live.

He would live and Zeke pitied him for that.

"There's your pillow and your blanket," Victor spat, out of breath and reaching for a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Romero burped, still a little drunk from the entire bottle he drank just a few hours earlier and led his associate back upstairs, prepared to leave without a second glance at the bloodied man on the floor.

Zeke stood, thinking about which decision he was going to make. He could discreetly help the lawyer with a towel and some water, let him keep some of his dignity by not bleeding all over the floor and his clothing. On the other hand, if he wasn't in the car before his bosses were, he would be fucked out of a ride and fucked period.

The teenager spent all of a few seconds contemplating his options, noticing Barba staring at him with squinted eyes and wiping away at the blood dripping from his nose. He'd never been stared down with so much hate before, but he understood why it was directed at him. He didn't fault the lawyer for wanting to see him dead, because that was the kind of look glimmering in the sneer on his face.

He had to hand it to him…he didn't give up without a fight. Barba propped himself up on his knees and hands, droplets of blood falling to the ground continuously from his face, but his clear green eyes never left Zeke's own dark ones.

After a tense moment of silence, followed by a yell down the stairs for him to hurry, the teen pulled an old bandana from outside of his pocket and chucked it towards him. It landed near his left hand and Barba took it silently, eyes losing some of their ferocity as he brought it up and start trying to clean some of the blood off his face.

Zeke left without a word and without looking back, conflicted feelings about what he just did warring inside him as he left with Victor and Romero.