oOo

By the time Dee woke up again, it was still dark. He could have used a few more hours of sleep, but the pain from his injuries had only grown in the absence of pain medication and he doubted that with the worries over Ryo and Bicky weighing on his mind, he would be able to get back to sleep anyways.

Dee started to push himself up. His ribs didn't like the movement at all, but he persisted and eventually managed to get into a sitting position. He took a few moments to catch his breath, then tried to get to his feet. He was almost pleasantly surprised, that while he felt a little unsteady, his legs were holding him. Since there was no one around to see, he didn't hesitate to use the wall as support as he searched for the light switch in the unfamiliar room. He'd been inside JJ's apartment only once before during a birthday party, and he didn't recall much about the layout. By the time he and JJ had arrived that night, Dee had been dead on his feet, unable to do anything more but collapse onto the couch and hope that JJ would leave him alone and get back to work.

Dee finally found the light switch and a moment later, pale yellow light filled the small living room. JJ's apartment reminded Dee a lot of his own - small and utilitarian. Neither of them was going to win any prizes for their interior decorating. Feeling thirsty, Dee shuffled into the kitchen. A wall clock hung above the stove and showed the time as just past 4 a.m. Since JJ was nowhere to be seen, he was probably still at work. It seemed a little unusual for JJ to be this invested in his job, but Rose probably had them working overtime to find Ryo.

After taking a sip from the tap, Dee pondered his next actions. As tempted as he was to head to the precinct, he knew it wasn't a good idea. Besides the fact that in his present condition he wasn't likely to make it this far, Rose would probably throw him out as soon as he saw him. He had ordered JJ to drop Dee off at the hospital. All Dee had been able to talk JJ into had been to drop him off at his apartment and that only after Dee had promised to rest and stay out of the investigation.

It wouldn't hurt calling JJ for an update, though, would it, Dee wondered? JJ probably would let him know if something developed, but Dee really wanted to be there if...no, when they found Ryo, so that he could convince him that he really was still alive. Having seen a phone there earlier, he began his painful trek back into the living room.

oOo

The sound of something dripping, drops falling onto a surface was what woke JJ. It wasn't just the sound of liquid though, he realized; he could feel wetness on his face and neck, almost like something was trickling down - no across his face. JJ opened his eyes, but what he saw did nothing to alleviate his confusion. It was nearly dark and he couldn't see very much - glass fragments on wet ground, a surface of white painted metal. He blinked, thinking that maybe he was really still asleep, but nothing changed the second time he opened his eyes. This clearly wasn't his bedroom…or any bedroom for that matter. His head was resting on something hard and unyielding, but when he tried to lift it, pain shot up his neck.

Breathing through the pain, JJ tried to recall what had happened. The serial killer, Dee, had been hurt in a raid. What else? JJ couldn't seem to cut through the thick fog shrouding his memories. Instead, he turned towards taking a physical inventory. His head and neck hurt, and there was something very heavy pressing against his chest. The rest of his body appeared oddly numb. Panic washed through him when he suddenly grasped the potential implications. The response was sluggish and not very well coordinated, but to his great relief, he could still move his limbs. A familiar chirping noise erupted from somewhere close by, piercing the silence. It took him a good minute, but he managed to fish his cell phone out of the pocket of his jacket. The numbness in his fingers made any co-coordinated effort difficult, but he finally succeeded in bringing the phone to his ear and answering the call.

"Finally! Took you long enough! What the hell are you doing?" a voice barked in his ear.

"Dee?"

"Of course, it's me. Who else?"

Good, Dee was safe.

"...JJ! JJ, answer me!"

JJ jerked awake at hearing the irate voice, realizing that he must have drifted off for a moment.

"Dee?"

"Yeah, we've covered that! What the hell is going on? Are you drunk?"

"I think...I think I've been in an accident." JJ wasn't sure where the thought had come from, but it made sense.

"Where? What happened?" Dee's sounded worried, almost frantic.

"I'm not sure," JJ replied, his eyes threatening to close on him again. His grip on the phone was slipping as cold and numbness seeped into his hands.

oOo

"JJ? JJ! Answer me, damn it!" Dee yelled into the phone, but he got no answer. He was just about to hang up and call the precinct to have the call traced when another voice came onto the line.

"Dee?" Although Dee had never heard him sound so fearful, he recognized Bicky's voice immediately.

"Bicky, are you okay?" Dee asked, his heart hammering against the inside of his chest.

"Think so." The reply came with hesitation.

"What about JJ?" Dee asked.

There was a long pause, then Bicky was back. "He's out cold."

"What happened?" Dee asked the same question he'd asked JJ before and hoped that this time, he'd get a sensible answer.

"Car accident...I think someone must have run us off the road. I can't really remember all that well," Bicky sounded young and frightened, not at all his street-wise self.

"Do you know where you are? Are you still in the city?"

There was another pause. "I don't know. But...I can smell petrol. I think the tank is leaking, Dee."

Dee swore. He still wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but if Bicky was right, the car could go up in flames very easily.

"Get away from there now!" he ordered.

"What about JJ?" Bicky asked.

"I'll get help. I'll have the precinct trace the car, and I'll send you help. You just get away from that car!" Dee ordered once again. Bicky didn't reply. Dee hated to break the connection, but he needed the line to call the precinct. Stressing a last time that Bicky get himself to safety, he hung up and dialed the number of the station.

oOo

Drake sighed and eyed his watch wearily. It was half past four in the morning. Drake was eager for a break, perhaps even a few hours of sleep. Instead, the commissioner had them working double shifts, probably not least because he'd finally found out that they'd lost the originals of the case files. At least he was working a double shift, Drake thought sullenly. Who knew where JJ had gone after dropping Bicky off at the foster home. He really should be back by now; even if traffic was bad, the drive up to Albany and back shouldn't be taking him this long. If JJ had gone home to mother Dee...Drake was going to kill him dead the next time he saw him. He didn't understand what JJ saw in Dee and he never would.

The phone on his desk began ringing in that moment. Drake glanced at the Caller ID. Speaking of the devil...

"Yes?" Drake picked up the phone, wondering why Dee was calling him at this time of the morning, when the man was supposed to be in hospital.

"Drake, where's JJ?"

Drake silently rolled his eyes. "He's dropping off Bicky at a foster family."

"No, he's not! I spoke to him on the phone just now! Seems like someone ran him and Bicky off the road."

Instantly, Drake was wide-awake.

"Did he say where he was?"

"No, he was hardly making any sense at all." Dee's voice sounded frantic.

"He took a squad car. They're equipped with transmitters."

"Well, trace it!" Dee yelled.

"Calm down, man," Drake ordered. "Did he say anything else?"

"No, he passed out on me."

"Okay, got to go." Drake was already standing. Not waiting for a reply from Dee, he terminated the connection and got on to CAD.

It took less than a minute for the responding CAD officer to locate the car via its GPS transmitter. The signal was coming from less than fifteen miles away from the precinct, still well within city limits. Even though CAD had immediately alerted the closest patrol unit, Drake still slipped into his jacket and grabbed his cell phone and car keys as soon as he'd hung up.

"Going somewhere, Detective?" A grim smile was dancing on the commissioner's features.

Drake suffocated his anger at the man's condescending manner. "Dee just called. He's been on the phone with JJ and from what he could make out, JJ and Bicky have been in some sort of car accident. I..."

He got no further before Rose cut him off. "He's taken a squad car, right? Then it should be no problem for CAD to locate them and dispatch the necessary units. There is no need for your presence."

Drake clenched his fists, feeling his temper spark.

"On the other hand, I have a more pressing task for you. If you would follow me into my office, please." Rose's voice showed not the slightest hint of concern. He was as calm as ever, a quality Drake had started to loathe ever since the commissioner had come to the 27th precinct. Even so, he said nothing as he followed Rose into his office. Rose motioned for him to sit down. He did likewise and handed a folded newspaper over to Drake. Not sure what to make of it, Drake unfolded the paper. It was this morning's edition of the Ledger. The newspaper had been following the serial killer cases, and past articles had been fairly harsh with the police. Rose couldn't expect him to do something about that, could he? There was such a thing as freedom of the press, after all. However, as soon as Drake had unfolded the paper, he spotted what had concerned Rose. A picture of Ryo was splayed across the front page of the newspaper. In the blurry shot, Ryo sat in a chair, arms tied back. A newspaper was resting against his chest, the photograph clearly showing the front page of the New York Ledger of the previous morning. Drake unfolded the paper and read the accompanying article.

NYPD Detective Kidnapped by Serial Killer?

As the Ledger has learned, Detective Randy MacLean is being held hostage by a man claiming responsibility for the recent spree of serial murders which have already claimed five victims. As we reported, the five women were all raped and brutally slain inside their own homes. Since the beginning, the investigation lead by the 27th precinct of the NYPD has been plagued by problems, and a recent breakthrough saw their prime suspect, a man described as a white, middle-aged, escapee, injuring two officers in the process, one of whom had to be hospitalized in critical condition.

The Ledger received news of the kidnapping yesterday night when they received a series of photographs that show Detective MacLean, a two-year veteran of the NYPD, seemingly being held hostage in an undisclosed location. Other photographs the Ledger received show the officer's badge as well as his driver's license. So far no demands have been made, but the Ledger is working in close cooperation with the NYPD to ensure the immediate liberation of Detective MacLean

Drake dropped the paper on the desk, stunned by the new development.

"Of course, the Ledger neglected to inform us of this story before the paper went to print. I would have put a stop to the publication immediately. But seeing that it is too late for that now. It probably won't be long until the local TV stations pick up the story, if they haven't already. We need to act fast and do some damage control. I'm already in contact with the DA's office, but they are not holding much faith in finding a judge that will sign a gag order on the case."

"What about that photograph?" Drake asked as he motioned to the picture of Ryo on the front page. "Has tech support been able to get anything from that?"

"They're working on it, but the quality is pretty bad, or so they told me. We need the original copy sent to the Ledger as well as the other photographs the article mentioned."

"I'm going to head over there right now." Drake guessed what Rose wanted from him.

"That is precisely what I had in mind. I want everything they have received from this maniac and I want tech support to trace the email address he used to send them the picture."

"We'll find him," Drake said, not sure who he was reassuring.

"Thank you, Detective, that's exactly what I intend to do. Furthermore, I expect you all to work on this 100." Rose stood up. "You may leave now."

oOo

Bicky had never been so tired in his life. Despite the unforgiving hard plastic chair that was digging into his back as he was waiting for one of the ER doctors to get around to him, he was on the verge of falling asleep. The only thing that kept him from dozing off were the terrible images of blood and twisted metal replaying in his mind every time he closed his eyes.

"Bicky MacLean?" His eyes flew open at the unfamiliar voice. Apparently, he had drifted off after all. In front of him stood a slightly pudgy woman with short dark hair. She extended a hand, and Bicky reluctantly shook it.

"I'm Zehra Jones. I'm from Social Services. I'm really sorry you had to wait so long on your own, but as you probably know, you cannot be treated until a parent or guardian is present."

Bicky nodded. He'd been through that routine before, after his father had died and before Ryo had formally adopted him.

"A doctor should see you any moment now, so we can get that arm of yours x-rayed, and you checked out."

Bicky didn't need an x-ray to know that his arm was broken. He was just about to ask the woman from Social Services about JJ, when the TV set on the wall caught his attention. Unable to properly hear from where he was sitting all the way across the waiting room, he jumped up and limped over as fast as he could after seeing Ryo's face appear on screen.

"Images of Randy MacLean, a detective from the NYPD, showing him bound and beaten, have been sent to media outlets all over the city. The man responsible for the kidnapping claims to be the same man who's responsible for the recent string of murders that has women all around the city living in fear. It is unknown whether any demands have been made and the NYPD has declined to comment on possible negotiations with the kidnapper, but we'll keep you apprised of any developments in the case.

Bicky's heart sank. The composure that hadn't wavered during the past two days was finally crumbling, and he couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

TBC