Captain: This fic has been rewritten and is being reposted! If you catch any errors, please let me know.

Innocence most often is a good fortune and not a virtue. ~Anatole France

Idaho

Four days after Christmas and the officers moved about at a leisurely pace as the detectives and lieutenants finished up old case reports, the phones blessedly quiet.

The dawn's light shined merrily through the front windows, belaying the freezing temperatures outside. The snow may be holding off for now, but it was on the horizon as winter came in full-force. Everyone in the precinct was grateful for the lack of calls, none of them were looking forward to leaving the heated comfort of the office for their cold patrol cars.

The calls that did come in were from a handful of hapless drivers that had ended up in the ditch when a patch of black ice sent them skidding in the wrong direction. Once assuring that no one was hurt or in need of law enforcement aid, they were transferred to the towing companies.

"Detective Blake," one officer paused in her reports to answer her desk phone, her attention still on the paperwork in front of her. It may be the bane of her existence, but it was worth it to spend a few hours killing trees to be able to dedicate her life to helping people.

"Darcy, I need your help." The desperation in the female voice gave the detective pause, pen poised above paper and a million scenarios running through her mind.

"What's wrong, Amy?" She couldn't say she knew the woman all that well, they went to high school together once upon a lifetime ago and it was a small enough town that almost everyone at least knew about everyone else. She knew Amy wasn't a woman who lost her cool often.

"It's Andrew, he didn't come home from his hike last night," her voice wobbled, cueing the detective that she was barely holding back her panic.

"Deep breaths, Amy. Are you sure he wasn't planning to stay the night?" It wouldn't be the first time Amy's husband had gone off to the woods and decided to stay the night, but her panic about his absence was unusual.

"No! He swore he was just going up for a few hours with his friends! He said he'd be back by dark! Every time he's stayed the night he's always back by morning! Something happened, I just know it. What if he got hurt?" She was talking herself to a full blown panic attack and there was nothing Darcy could really do to help the woman over the phone. Dropping her pen, she kept the phone pressed to her ear as she stood and pulled her thick winter jacket on.

"I need you to stay calm, Amy. Andrew knows what he's doing. He'll probably come walking through your door any minute now. Just hang tight and I'll be there in a few minutes." Her personal cell got tucked into her pocket, hands searching her desk for her keys.

"Thank you," Amy breathed, hanging up a second later. Darcy dropped the phone back on the receiver, claiming her keys from the stack of papers they'd been covered with. Her quiet day was over.

"New case?" the homicide detective seated across from her asked, brows raised as he looked at her over his reading glasses. John should have been promoted six times over, but he'd refused every time. He liked what he did and he wasn't going to settle into being a desk jockey. The man would only give up his walking boots when it was time to trade them in for a fishing pole. A day that was rapidly approaching.

"Andrew didn't make it back from his hike last night, I'm going to check it out." There was a strong possibility the man would beat her to his house, but she would still go, even if in the end all she was was a brief relief for Amy. It was a hell of a lot better ending than having to confess for the eighth time that no new leads had pointed towards their missing loved one.

Her old mentor nodded, returning his attention to his own reports. "Let me know if you need fresh eyes."

"Thanks John, we might need the search crews again." It was the same offer he always made when she got a call about a missing person, just as his salute was the same as she turned to leave. He had her back as much as she had his.

Stepping outside, Darcy quickly zipped up her jacket, shivering as the breaching sun did nothing to warm the frigid air. It almost seemed to give it more bite than warmth.

It was a twenty minute drive to Amy's side of town, made longer by the ice that clung to the roads, threatening and eager to send the next unsuspecting car into the ditch. Darcy was thankful she had enough experience driving in winter conditions and her SUV had an iron grip to keep her on the road the entire way.

Pulling into Amy's driveway, she noted that Andrew must have taken the little red Chevy S10 and sent out an APB on it before getting out and heading for the door.

Ringing the bell, it took less than three seconds for the door to fly open and a small body to fling itself at the detective.

"Thank God you're here; I can't take this by myself! Why isn't he back yet? What happened to him? Was he attacked by a bear? Oh my god, he was attacked by a bear." Darcy could only let the hysterical woman ramble into her shoulder as her words quickly melted down into sobs.

"Come on, let's get inside so you can tell me the whole story. He hasn't been attacked by a bear, they're hibernating, remember?" She tried to be as comforting as possible as she steered the woman back into the house, but it was this part of the job that was not her strong suit. Amy was usually steadier than this, too, which left her unsure just why this time was so different. Sure her husband was later than he'd ever been, but not by much. It was just as likely he was hurt somewhere as his truck simply refused to start in the cold, or got stuck on one of the logging roads, and he was having to walk out to find cell service. Some of those trail heads could take hours to get to from the main road.

As she moved the woman towards the couch, a sinking pit of dread dropped into her gut. Something was different about this time. Amy could feel it, she could feel it. If something really had happened and Andrew was missing, he would make the fourth this week, in what was generally the quietest time of year. People simply did not go missing around Christmas in this town and people certainly did not drop off the face of the planet without a trace. And yet that was exactly what her other three had done.

"Do you know where he was planning on hiking?" she asked once Amy had calmed herself enough to be coherent again.

"He said he was going up to the Deadwood Reservoir," she sniffed, rubbing at the tears staining her cheeks.

"You said he went up with friends?" Darcy followed up, making a note in her notebook about the trail to check out. None of the other three had gone up to Deadwood, but they had all been going on hikes. Her dread deepened.

Amy nodded, "Yeah, Jake and Brian."

The detective knew those two men, a pair of harmless flirts that were as obsessed with the outdoors as Andrew was. They were all experienced hikers, which meant their chances of survival were high if it was an accident that had waylaid them.

The interview continued easily enough as Darcy recorded all of the necessary details about what he was wearing, when he left, and what kind of gear he had on him. Almost an hour later she left the house, theories running rampant in her head. Hikers went up and disappeared in those mountains all year long, but most of their either found their way out in a day or two or were pulled out by Search and Rescue. Andrew had spent enough of his life on those trails to be one of those who stumbled his way out, especially with his fellow hiking-enthusiast friends. But a nagging voice in the back of her mind wasn't sure he'd be walking out on his own this time. Ten of the last twelve who'd vanished up there hadn't made it back. For some reason, the odds had shifted against him, especially if he and his friends got separated.

Something was going on up there, something more than people just losing the trail. The range was far too large for any kind of real investigating, especially by herself. First things first, she needed to head back to the station and find out if either of the other two men had made it home. With any luck, at least one of them had come down for help and would be able to lead rescuers straight to the other two.

The trip back took nearly twice as long as she pulled over several times to check on drivers stuck in the ditch or against a guard rail. One thing was for sure, the towing business was booming.

Another hour and two worried calls later and the dread had fully engulfed the detective; neither of the other two men had been seen or heard from. Three missing at the same time, six in one week, twenty in the last two months; all had gone into the National Forest, none had come out. None had been recovered either, which kept her awake more than the fact they'd lost their way to begin with. They had the planned trails, Search and Rescue knew exactly where people got hurt or lost their way on those paths, and yet had been unable to find a sign of anyone anywhere. They were just gone, as if they'd never been there. If it were a handful over the year, no one would blink. It was sad, but it was hardly out of the norm. Not anymore. It was too damn many in too short a period to be nothing.

So what the hell was going on up there?

The department issued SUV had the power and traction to make it up to the trailhead even in decent snow, which was a high possibility given its elevation. Pulling out of the precinct, she dialed Search and Rescue, giving them the heading they were already prepared to take thanks to John's heads up.

She still beat them to the Deadwood trailhead, noting in distaste that though the snow had held off up here, it was encased in a thick fog. Getting a helicopter would be impossible. It was eerily silent as she stepped out of her car, grating against her nerves as she approached Andrew's Chevy.

As expected, their things were gone and the rig was as cold as the air around it. The men had at least started their trip without incident. Ten miles sat between the truck and the reservoir they were supposedly heading towards. The Deadwood Trail split off at least six times in those ten miles, twisting into other trail systems that covered hundreds of miles. If they decided to make a different turn as a spur of the moment thing, it could be months before anyone found them.

Darcy knew she had several more minutes before the search crew would get there, so she went about scouring the parking lot for anything that stood out before it was filled with trucks. She doubted she would find anything given the normalcy of the little red truck, but it was worth a shot. There were several old tire tracks pressed into the gravel and dirt, but none were discernible enough to get an impression of, nor were they fresh enough to bother trying. This was a popular trail after all, even in winter.

She sighed, her breath freezing in the air. It was too quiet with just her and the two silent vehicles. She'd heard silence before, enjoyed the absence of ambient noise, but the pure lack of anything aside from her breathing combined with the thick fog obscuring her vision and the cold numbing her body was creating a chilling, other-worldly feel. It set her nerves on edge, having her senses robbed so, made her strain to see or hear something, which only further heighted the feeling of being isolated when she failed to do both. She wished the rescue crew would get there faster.

Goosebumps pricked up on her arms, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention at the sensation of being watched. There was a reason she'd joined the police force instead of the rangers; she wasn't cut out for the isolated life, it just made her paranoid. Cursing the foolish feeling, she rubbed her hands together to work the blood back into her fingertips. There was no one there, nothing around but her SUV and the pickup.

Even if there was, she wouldn't be able to see it through the fog.

Just as she was about to give in to the nerves demanding she wait it out in her car, the rumbling of multiple heavy-duty engines wafted through the air, steadily growing louder. Darcy let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in as the crews pulled in, filling the lot with crunching gravel and chatting men. They loved their job and they loved the woods, but none of them were thrilled to be meeting with her again.

"What do you have for us, Blake?" Walter Jones, the team leader, questioned as he approached her.

"Three men this time: Andrew Wane, Jake Baxter, and Brian Spellman. They went out yesterday and didn't make their scheduled return time last night," she answered, handing him pictures of each man, which he studied for a moment before passing along to his boys behind him.

"And we're just getting called about it?" he raised his brows in question. Usually missing hikers warranted a call at two in the morning, not ten.

"All three are experienced and have been late before because they found a new trail they wanted to check out. Their wives wanted to give them until morning before calling."

The man nodded as his volunteers separated themselves into their allotted groups. "We have a heading?"

"Deadwood Reservoir was their target. They swore they weren't going to take any side trails." Which wasn't as helpful as it sounded, given how many little trails went to or around the reservoir itself or to lookouts of it. There was still an impressive amount of ground to cover and not a lot of daylight to do it, but it was more than they sometimes had. She would never understand some people's need for absolute secrecy when it came to what trail they were taking. It was risky at best and deadly at worst. Who knows how many the search crews might have reached in time if only they'd known where to start.

Shoving those thoughts from the forefront of her mind, she told herself for the hundredth time not to go down that rabbit trail. Maybe nothing would have been different; she'd only drive herself mad wondering about it. Could-have-beens and maybes did nothing for the people that needed her help now.

"Joining the search?" Walter asked the same as he did every time.

Just as Darcy was forced to answer the same, a grimace on her lips. "You know I wish I could."

Once upon a time when she'd been a beat cop, she could have joined in the search. Now she was one of only two detectives in a fifty mile radius. She couldn't trek miles into the woods while she was on duty, no matter how badly she wanted to. All she could do was wait for a call from Walter, whose satellite phone never lost signal.

She did stay at the trailhead long enough to see the teams off and secure Andrew's truck for later processing. It was unnerving how quickly the fog swallowed up the crew, how much it muffled their calls to the men before blocking it entirely. Not even the low hum of the food truck generator was enough to brush off the eerie feeling that once again reigned now that she was alone.

Time to head back down before her nerves really did get the best of her.

Prowl was never one to openly complain when he didn't like orders unless they went completely against tactical advantage, but he was nearing the end of his rope.

Sure, he had the patience and experience to wait exceedingly long periods, even in Cybertronian terms, but living on a tiny island where the government wanted him to stay underground while transformed and being trapped on said island with the Terror Twins was quickly wearing on every circuit in his body. Especially now with the recent departures of both Ratchet and Ironhide robbing the two of their usual prank victims. If he had to online to one more human cartoon, he was going to lock the two in the brig and destroy the key.

His engine revved as he stepped out of the hanger and into the bright sun, easily adjusting his optics to the harsh glare that would have otherwise white-out his vision. Human wishes be-slagged, he was not their pet and he would not be locked up like one.

Deciding on an aimless walk in the ocean air, Prowl flipped through the police scanners, simultaneously listening to multiple streams while loading the reports of the day. He may be stuck on an island in the middle of the ocean, but he could and would still monitor the outside world. The results proved that crime had remained much as it had the day before and the days before that. Except in the US, where another spike in missing person reports stood higher than average. It was small, would pass unnoticed by most humans, but it was a growing trend. The more noticeable aspect was the number of those cases closed. Regardless of outcome, it was far fewer than the previous several years' averages. Either the human law enforcement was becoming more incompetent or whoever was responsible was very good at hiding their victims. He suspected a little of both.

Chatter between the FBI and Interpol indicated that that aspect had been noticed by them as well. They blamed a rise in human trafficking. Prowl knew it would take an extremely large organization to cover the ground that was affected by the new trends and couldn't help but find it statistically improbable. Would so many humans be involved in such a thing that subjugated and injured their own kind?

Well, that was a pointless question. Human history was rife with terror and torment inflicted upon each other.

Then again, so was Cybertronian history. One needed to look no further than Shockwave and the experiments he performed on captured Autobots.

But Shockwave and the other Decepticons were lying low. Only coming out in singles or pairs for what the humans referred to as a 'smash and grab'. Clearly they were not looking for a fight and as of yet, Prowl had been unable to piece together what they were doing with the items they had stolen. So he had to content himself with solving the crimes of humanity, starting with the one that had many of the top officials scratching their heads.

Only he couldn't do that very well stuck on this Primus-forsaken hunk of sand they expected him to call home.

Striding across the blacktop to the shoreline, he looked out at the sun setting over the sparkling water. Water was such a unique thing. While common enough throughout the universe, no place else had it in open oceans like this. The amount and size of the life it supported was mystifying. He could appreciate it in a way, even if it did result in him being reliant on the humans to get over it. Earth was no Cybertron, but it wasn't all bad. Off of the island anyway.

NEST bases were being constructed across the globe. Autobots had been deployed to each to assist in the construction and yet here he stood, an ornament waiting for them to find a use for him. The least they could do was allow him onto the mainland to assist law enforcement.

The doors on his back twitched as yet another homicide report came in. They weren't even at war and they were still killing each other. Humans could be such a destructive race. At their current rate, they would wipe themselves out in a few thousand years.

Letting out an irritated vent, Prowl blasted sand out of his systems. Logic dictated that the humans weren't worth protecting while they continued to slaughter each other, but Prime thought otherwise. There were a few the tactician could tolerate well enough that he would be …..disheartened to see offlined. Namely those who fought to uphold some semblance of order in the chaotic cities.

A tinkering in his gears made him vent again, shooting a little red crab out from its hiding place. Oh yes, he really hated this island.