Daniel spent the rest of the afternoon in a bit of a daze. He somehow got home, though he had no real memory of driving there. Once he stepped inside, he realized what a mess it was -- it wasn't something he'd have ever considered before, but after a couple of weeks staying with the oh-so-neat Ethan, his place seemed like a pigsty. He went into autopilot, picking up old take-out containers and dirty laundry, starting the dishwasher and washing machine.

At some point, he realized he had left his duffel bag with his clothes at Ethan's apartment.

As the sun was starting to set, there was a knock at his front door. It was Garrett, whose texts Daniel had accidentally been ignoring for hours.

"I went by Ethan's apartment first," Garrett explained, holding up Daniel's duffel bag, "and he gave me this. He also told me where I could stuff it, but considering the day he had, I'm willing to overlook it." He paused, looking Daniel over. "So… that went about as well as expected, I'm guessing?" Daniel snorted, the sound lacking any amusement at all.

"You're not wrong," Daniel agreed as he accepted the bag, stepping aside to let Garrett in. "I'm glad you went by, though -- that has my work laptop in it." Garrett stopped just inside the door, staring at Daniel.

"You're wanting to go back to work now?" Daniel shrugged.

"I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to do." He pulled the laptop out of the bag, pointedly not looking up to meet Garrett's eyes. He had a feeling he was about to get an ear-full anyway.

"Take a day to recover," Garrett said, eyes wide in disbelief. "You just had a hell of a day, and-"

"And I'd like to move on from it as quickly as possible," Daniel replied, keeping his tone crisp. Garrett stared on in disbelief.

"You're going to just try to pretend like none of it happened, aren't you? You're not even going to try to talk to him." Daniel glared up from his position on the couch.

"I tried talking to him, and he wanted no part of it." He tried, really hard, to not remember the way Ethan's name had broken on his name. "Honestly, I can't really blame him for that. The best thing I can do right now is move on, and make sure none of what happened was for nothing by getting back on this case." Garrett sighed.

"The tech crew is looking at that USB drive as we speak. We should have more details from it in the morning, but for now it's looking like he got an astonishing amount of information."

"I'm not surprised," Daniel admitted. "He's always been very good with computers, so it'd make sense that he'd be able to find a lot of good stuff, given the chance." He looked up to see a pained look on Garrett's face, and just knew more talk of emotions and second (and third) chances was coming, so he spoke up first. "Hey, I'm actually really tired, I think I'm going to call it a night early tonight. Thanks for bringing this by, though." Garrett frowned, but nodded.

"Alright. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"No, I'm good. Really," he promised, pulling his lips up into a reassuring smile with no small amount of effort. "I'll see you at work tomorrow morning. It'll be good to be back," he said, and meant it.

It was good to be back, he discovered the next morning. No one but Garrett knew why he'd actually been gone, so he could bury himself in his work without constant looks of pity from coworkers.

And bury himself in his work he did -- he had gotten up at 4am and dove headfirst back into his workout. By 7, he was sweaty and aching, and had run farther on the treadmill than he ever had. He hadn't intended to, but running was mind-numbing, and it was just easier to keep moving than to start thinking again.

He spent the rest of his morning reviewing the facts of the case that he'd missed -- not many, as no real new leads had surfaced in his absence. Right before lunchtime, he got a call from the captain, summoning him to his office.

The office was a little shabby and crowded, the desk a mess of paperwork with the nameplate proclaiming "Captain Powell" barely visible under the stacks of paper.

"I understand you brought in Ethan Dansen, the informant who had the USB drive that tech has been losing their minds over all morning?" Powell said, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Daniel.

"I did, yes sir," Daniel said, standing with his hands behind his back. "Though I feel I should clarify, he was more than just an informant. He was working undercover." Powell raised one bushy gray eyebrow.

"I don't recall approving an undercover civilian, Marsh." Daniel nodded sharply.

"Yes sir, I'm aware. Unfortunately, I was given reason to believe there are informants inside the station, so I had to make the call to not go through the normal channels." He met Powell's eyes head on. "I did bring my partner in, so that someone could corroborate my plan, but at the time it seemed safer to not have the venture on paper." Powell nodded slowly, stroking his moustache.

"I see. That does seem to be the safest assumption," he finally acknowledged with a grunt. "Especially since it turns out your suspicions were correct." Daniel started.

"Sir?"

"There was evidence in the files that implicated both Smith and Kowolski," he said simply. "Kowolski was arrested ten minutes ago. Smith is supposed to be on-shift, but he is, mysteriously, not here, and not answering calls," he said, his tone implying it wasn't mysterious at all. "I have some officers on the way to his place, but I don't expect him to be there." Daniel gave up on standing on ceremony, and sat down hard in the chair across from Powell's desk.

"I took the precautions, but I didn't want to believe it," he admitted. Powell nodded.

"I don't blame you, son. It's a hard thing, for a brother in blue to turn against us. We're going to see them prosecuted, to the full extent," he promised. "Which is only possible because of your boy. Not only did he find the information to implicate the dirty officers, he got enough ironclad evidence to take down an entire drug operation we didn't even know existed, so we don't have to cut a deal with Smith and Kowolski for information they might offer."

"A drug operation?" Daniel frowned, confused, before suddenly everything slotted together in his mind. "Bonville." Powell nodded.

"They've been running hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of drugs through town, using Gannon as their base of operations. They were smart enough to never sell any of it here, so no suspicions were ever raised. The closest they sold any was Bonville. They upped what they were bringing through a few months ago-"

"Right when the break-ins started," Daniel finished for him. "It was all a distraction. They wanted us focused on the break-ins, the case they knew the media would easily catch the scent of, while they ferried drugs through right under our noses." Powell nodded.

"Congratulations, Detective. Your case, and your informant, managed to bring in enough evidence for what will likely be the biggest drug bust Gannon's ever seen."

Ethan spent most of that first evening crying and drinking. It wasn't something he was proud of, but damn it, he deserved at least that much time.

When morning broke, he woke with a raging hangover, though whether it was from too much beer or too many hours spent crying, he couldn't tell. He set about cleaning up the mess he'd left, picking up beer bottles and cleaning his kitchen, which had seen more use in the past few days than the preceding months altogether.

He'd hoped the furious cleaning would keep him distracted from what had happened, but unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. Everywhere he looked was evidence of Daniel's presence, from the rings his coffee mug had left on the kitchen counter to the stray sock left lying on the bathroom floor. Thankfully, the clothing he found was limited -- he had a vague memory of drunkenly throwing Daniel's duffel bag at some cop who'd showed up at his door at some point the night before.

The worst part was having to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't even Daniel he was angry at; it was himself. He was the one who'd been dumb enough to trust a cop, dumb enough to think his idiotic plan would work. He'd spent several weeks living in a fantasy land where he had a happily-ever-after ahead of him instead of the dreary life of drudgery, and now he was having to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't possible.

Hell, at this point, even that drudgery might not be possible. He'd given up his job to go undercover, and now he was stuck finding a new one. He'd already called his old boss at the corner shop earlier that morning, but he'd had no interest in rehiring someone who'd left him on such short notice, and Ethan could hardly blame him.

Besides, Daniel had obviously not believed Ethan could turn his life around, and maybe he was right. After all, despite being a cop, Daniel was a good man, and he knew Ethan better than almost anyone. If he couldn't believe in Ethan's ability to turn his life around, maybe it really wasn't possible.

Ethan looked down at his laptop, the job application he was halfway done filling out mocking him from its screen.

Have you ever been charged with a crime?

The question had been the bane of his existence during his job search last time; it had taken him months to find anything, and he'd had to keep working for Jack, the former leader of the crime ring, while he was doing it to keep from being homeless. He'd even tried lying on a few applications, but it always came up in a background check. He just couldn't escape.

As his mouse hovered over the 'yes' that he knew would disqualify him from the low-paying factory job he was applying for, there was a knock at his door.

Ethan sighed; he really didn't want to deal with more cops, and he definitely didn't want to have to talk to Daniel. He wasn't going to change his mind; how could he, knowing Daniel had been so willing to give up on him?

He pulled open the door, and frowned when he saw two of the bouncers from the club there.

"What-" Then there was pain, sharp and blooming in his face, and that was the last thing he knew for quite a while.

When Ethan woke, he wasn't sure where he was, or even when he was. His head was pounding with a dull, insistent pain. He peeled his eyes open to reveal a large, dimly lit room, no windows to be seen. He attempted to move, only to discover he was tied to a chair, his arms wrenched painfully back behind him and his ankles tied to the feet of the chair.

His heart pounded in terror, but he couldn't stop himself from trying; he tugged at the restraints; the were tight, with little room for movement.

"Hello?" he called out, squinting at the dark shadows around the room. "Is anyone here?" He heard some scuffling somewhere to his left, and then the sound of grating metal on metal, followed by the bang of a door closing. "Hello?" he called again, pulling helplessly at his bonds.

The room was silent other than the sound of Ethan's panicked breathing, which echoed in the large space until it seemed to surround him. Several minutes passed with no sound or movement, and Ethan took the time to try to calm down.

He sucked in a few deep breaths, forcing himself to focus on evening out his breathing. After the first few, he felt his head start to clear a little -- and just in time, as he heard that same scraaaaape, pause, scraaaaape, bang that he could only imagine was a door he couldn't see being pushed open and let go to slam closed again. There was the distinctive click-click-click of nice shoes on concrete, and Ethan strained his neck to try to see who was approaching.

The steps came to a stop a few feet behind him, and Ethan faced the front, giving up on being able to see who it was before they wanted him to.

"I don't know why I'm here," Ethan said, speaking into the long silence that followed. He was a little proud of how steady his voice sounded.

"Really?" replied the voice behind him. "No idea? Not even an inkling?" The first sound of the man's voice made Ethan stiffen; he'd know that voice anywhere.

"Steve," he said, his voice dropping in anger. "What the hell?" Steve's nasal chuckle filled Ethan with rage. "Steve, what the hell are you playing at?" The laughter continued as Steve stepped around into view.

"That's rich, coming from you," he said, still chuckling as he spoke. "I've got to hand it to you, Ethan, you had me fooled. You had all of us fooled." Ethan clenched his jaw, but reigned in his anger and attempted to play dumb.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, raising his chin stubbornly.

"Come on, Ethan," Steve said, drawing the words out just enough to make them sound infuriatingly condescending. "Let's not play dumb. We both know you were working for the cops. What I want to know is why." He stood about two feet in front of Ethan, close enough that he had to strain his neck in order to see his face.

"Maybe I just hate you that much," Ethan offered in a pleasant tone of voice, giving up the pretense. "I mean, you have one of those faces." Steve scowled, moving quickly to lean in close.

"I don't think you quite understand your position here, Dansen," he snapped. "I am the only thing keeping your cute little ass alive -- is that clear enough for you?" He straightened again, smirking. "Michael decided to let you be my… project," he said.

"I'm thrilled for you," Ethan replied, deadpan.

"You should be," Steve agreed. "If it were anyone else you'd probably be being tortured right now. You'd be amazed at what Felix can do with just a knife and a candle," he said, mentioning one of the 'bouncers' with something like twisted admiration in his voice. "But I was hoping we could come to an agreement."

"What sort of agreement?"

"You tell me who you were working with and how much they know, and we don't kill you and dump your body in the harbor," Steve explained, his voice oddly chipper for such a morbid statement. Ethan stared up at him, his blood running cold. He had the unfortunate benefit of knowing Steve well enough to know that he was entirely serious. He also knew he was likely a dead man either way.

"I… I don't know anything," he said, stuttering slightly. "I swear, Steve, I don't-" He stumbled to a halt as Steve held up a hand.

"Don't," he said shortly. "We know you were an informant, and we know you passed some information onto the department that implicated our men on the inside. They even managed to catch one of them," he added, his face going sour at the thought. "We also know they knew where our base of operations was. We had to move all of our stuff out in about an hour because of you," he said, glaring down at Ethan. "I had to carry boxes out myself."

"Oooh, you poor thing," Ethan crooned, unable to help himself despite his situation. "Actual physical labor? Will you ever recover?"

Steve took two steps to close the distance between them, his hand coming up in a vice-like grip on Ethan's face, his fingertips digging into the meat of his cheeks with bruising force.

"I don't think you fully understand how dire your straits are," Steve growled. "You think we haven't been watching you? You quit your job. You never speak with your brother anymore. You even threw out that pretty boy toy of yours yesterday. No one is going to miss you. No one will even know you're gone." He paused, leaning in so that the hot dampness of his breath washed over Ethan's ear in a sickening wave. "You're ours."