A/N: READ! Y'all, more pain and whump, good luck!

Day? Time?

Maverick stumbled heavily against the door, lifting a heavy hand to open it. He felt to weak…fragile. Mav shook his head again, clearing the dizziness. Much to his surprise, the door was unlocked, and swung open, leading him forward to a dark, claustrophobic hallway, red lights shining dimly. That totally wasn't creepy.

Maverick listened intently to the small sounds and noises. It would be near impossible to find Rooster in this unfamiliar dungeon. His heart pounding against his chest, Maverick tiptoed left.

Why were there no soldiers, guards? Why was it so silent?

Just moments again there had been the pained screaming of his wingman. Baby Goose.

It was unnerving.

Suddenly, he heard the sharp sound of footsteps on the concrete ground, and a door creaked open further down the hall, bright light flowing into the darkness. Maverick pressed himself quickly against the wall, hoping, praying, that no one could see him.

There were two soldiers and a few…doctors? Why in the world where there be two doctors? They weren't medically torturing Rooster, were they!?

Maverick took a few shallow breaths, calming himself as best as he could. He can't make any assumptions just yet. He needed to find Bradley.

The people thankfully walked the opposite direction, down a flight of stairs that Maverick hadn't noticed before. He let out a soft sigh of momentary relief, and continued to tiptoe down the dark hall. It felt like someone was behind him, but every time he turned around, there was nothing but his shadow and the darkness engulfing everything around him.

Maverick finally reached the door the people had exited, and put his hand on the door handle. He hesitated. What if this wasn't Rooster? What if this was some poor soul that the enemies had wrapped up in their weird dark place? What if it was Rooster? Mav felt a spout of frustration bubble up inside of him. There were so many dang questions, but so little answers.

Even if it wasn't someone Maverick knew, he'd help them escape. It was part of the U.S. Military Code of Conduct.

Mav pushed the door open slowly, his heart racing and pounding in his ears. He was positive you could hear it all around the world. Maverick frowned, instead of, "the should heard him around the world," it would be, "the heartbeat heard around the world."

While he had prepared himself for the worst, Maverick honestly wasn't prepared for what met his eyes as he opened the door fully. Nothing in a million years could prepare him for that sight.

Day 4 Time 1600

One whole, 24 hour day. That's how long it took for them to figure out what had been spoken over the comms. One whole entire, stinking day; wasted. Well, not completely wasted, Bob tried to console himself. But he was too worried to listen to himself.

They's found out that the enemies had indeed captured both Maverick and Rooster. And both were indeed alive. How in the world they had survived getting hit by SAM missiles was beyond him and everyone else. But then again, Maverick wasn't known for keeping rules. Neither was Rooster. Like godfather like godson. Gosh, did the team miss them.

Unfortunately, the interpretation team hadn't figured out where the enemy had taken them, or even what they were going to do with them. It certainly wasn't going to be good though.

The emotion and stress levels ran high in the Daggers. Phoenix had shut her self off from everyone. Payback resorted to sitting blandly on the floor throwing pieces of balled up paper at the wall repeatedly. Fanboy didn't talk at all, he only sat staring at the cup of cold coffee Mav had started to drink before the mission. They hadn't moved it at all. Didn't know why. Hangman would get frustrated at anything and everything. It definitely wasn't something you wanted to witness.

Bob was really the only one keeping the team afloat right now. It was hard and taxing, but someone had to take the role of temporary leader. Sure, he was shy, introverted, awkward and nerdy, but he was also patient, ready to listen and his calm personality was something everyone needed.

Robert was surprised at how much tears he'd sat through, how many arguments he'd quelled, how many nervous jokes he'd made in that week alone. The team seemed to only grow closer and further apart at the same time.

He was also surprised the Dagger's liked him. Honestly, no one really wanted to be friends with Bob. But somehow, someway, the Dagger's had grown to love and care about him like a family.

Robert stood on the carrier deck near the railing, the wind brushing along his hair. The late afternoon sun beat down on him. It wasn't hot, but it wasn't freezing. The perfect balance before the storm. The sky was gorgeous blue, fluffy clouds drifting lazily in the sky. The waves splashed against the grey carrier walls, gentle. He took in a deep, full breath of the salty air and bit his upper lip slightly. Gosh, he was worried.

He heard hard footsteps behind him, with a certain stride. "Hey, Hangman." He whispered into the air. He didn't have to turn around to know it was him.

Bob noticed things, observed them in a way others didn't. He knew the way Phoenix would twirl a strand of hair around her fingers if she was anxious, scared or nervous. He knew how Hangman would attempt to make up terrible jokes if he were feeling unwanted emotions. He knew how Payback would hide himself away in the gym and beat the sand out of the punching bag. He knew how Fanboy would just find and talk to someone to release his feelings, usually Payback. He knew how Rooster would go 'tickle the ivories,' as he put it. He knew Mav would ride his bike around 'til he cooled off. Bob himself unconsciously noticed that when he felt deep emotions, he'd grab his sketch book to escape to nature.

Hangman grunted behind him, confirming his deduction. Out of the corner of his eye, Bob noticed Hangman lean onto the railing and observe the sea. Bob was quiet. He could wait. He always did. Robert kept standing, watching the seagulls dive and listening to the waves.

Then he heard a sniffle. Bob turned his head to look at Hangman, and saw a tear slid down his face.

He reached out his hand and gripped Hangman's wrist. He didn't know how Jake would respond to the contact, but he wanted to comfort him however he could. Hangman twitched just slightly, but he didn't move his wrist.

Sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

Hangman couldn't trust himself to speak past the lump in his throat. His eyes sung, and a few more hot tears slid down his face. When was the last time he cried? He hoped Bob wouldn't use this as blackmail later in life. He probably wouldn't.

Hangman bowed his head, chin touching his collarbone. He sniffled again.

There was silence. It wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, both welcome the silence. Recently, it had been never ending searching, never ending noise, never ending restlessness. Emotions were high, like a volcano about to explode.

They needed peace. Silence. A refresh. This was the only thing they had left.