The next few days went at a snail's pace for Danny Taylor. By Wednesday morning, Frank still hadn't called, and he hadn't spoken to Jordan since the day of her incarceration. His calls to Sr. Rachel were frequent, but static. Faced with the threat of the orphanage closing, she was anxious and short with him. The worst part of it all remained that there was nothing for Danny to do but wait.

Though his personal life was in shambles, he used his professional life as an outlet for his frustrations as he so often had in the past. Danny managed as he could, submerging himself in work. He spent his days searching relentlessly for the missing of New York City, and his nights pouring over paperwork not due for weeks to come.

He remained professional and completed his work with as much efficiency as ever. But in truth, he was not himself. He was harsher with troublesome witnesses. His laughter at jokes was weak and off timing. He found himself distracted where he would have been focused, irritated where he might have been completely at ease.

Those who knew him well knew something was wrong, and his special task force team, whom he spent the better part of his life working beside, was no exception. Martin whispered about him to Vivian when he thought no one was listening. Samantha squinted at him, like she was looking at a math problem she couldn't quite figure out. And Jack? Though he hadn't voiced it, Danny had little doubt that Jack knew exactly what had happened with Jordan, with Layman, and probably with St. Luke's as well.

Through it all, they were exceedingly kind… especially Vivian. It had to have been close to midnight when she stopped by his workstation, exhausted from a hard day's work.

Danny looked up, the crevices in his face lit by the dim light from his desk lamp. "You're here late," he acknowledged.

"Look who's talking," she replied in her thick molasses drawl. "You trying to break the world record for most hours spent in a cubicle?"

Danny smiled. "Nah." He pointed to Jack's office, though the lights were out for the night. "I believe that record's already been broken."

She chuckled lightly. "I'm not far from a bronze medal myself."

A nice pause lingered between them. "How's the family?" he asked.

Vivian took in a deep breath, staring off to the side. "Well, my husband's going on a hunger strike until our front deck's repainted, a shed is built, and the kitchen sink doesn't spew up last week's sewage all over the linoleum. Thinks he's the next Bob Vila or something… As for the kids…"

Danny genuinely enjoyed hearing about Vivian's day. He liked families. Despite the fact that he didn't have a traditional one of his own, Danny had always had those he considered family around him – other relatives, grandparents, close friends… Few families followed the traditional nowadays, and Danny doubted realistically that they ever truly had. However, that did nothing to wane the sacredness they held. He let Vivian go on about her husband and children for a good fifteen minutes, a lazy smile on his face the entire time.

"But that's all that's going on in my world." With a hefty yawn, she stretched out her arms. "And now, I am finally going home for the night."

"You alright to drive?" he asked out of habit.

"I'll manage." She stopped, studying him. "What about you?"

He brushed aside the thought. "I'll be fine."

"That wasn't what I meant," she said, giving him that knowing stare, reminiscent of a concerned high school teacher. She let a long silence stretch out before smirking. "Don't pull the silent treatment with me, Danny. You know I can't help but worry."

Danny sighed, arching his neck in her direction. "I know."

"If you want to talk about it…you know where to find me."

He begrudgingly smiled. Comfort was nice, even from the usual sources. "That I do."

"I know it's none of my business…" she began. Danny smirked; a lot of what she said concerning his life started out that way. "But whatever you're going through, don't be too hard on yourself. It's not healthy."

"And what would be healthy?" he challenged her, if she was so smart.

Vivian took a moment to think before she spoke. "That's something you're going to have to answer yourself," she said in that irritating motherly tone. She took out her keys and turned her back. "You've got some smart thoughts, Danny Taylor. But if you're sitting around waiting for something to happen, the only person you're going to drive insane is yourself."

Whether Vivian actually had any clue as to what was going on, Danny wasn't entirely sure. But that soon became immaterial. As he watched her leave for the night, he sat back, letting the events of the last few days play back in his mind. He took in Vivian's words, like a deep-scented aroma. Danny closed up for the night, her advice fresh on his mind.

She was right about one thing. He was driving himself insane, and he was through waiting around for something to happen. Something needed to be done. Under all the work, all the uncertainty, and all the pressure, he was suffocating.