Chapter Text
EARLY JANUARY, 2000
"What's your name?"
"Deborah Falconer."
"And can you tell me what happened, please?"
The celebrity hesitates, flashing back to a little over an hour ago.
"Ready or not, here I come!" Robert calls. He begins to look for his two children. Giggles alert him to his son's hiding spot. "Found you!"
"Robert! Indio! Y/n!" His wife calls, causing him to pause and turn. "Time to go!"
"Okay, Mommy!" The six-year-old turns tail, moving to Deborah.
The woman in question holds his hand, shifting to look around the park. "Sweetheart, where's Y/n?"
"We were playing hide-and-seek!"
Robert nods in agreement, raising his voice to yell for his youngest. "Y/n! Come on, we're leaving!"
He is met with the squeals of other children, the commotion of nearby parents talking, but not his daughter. Panic begins to rise as he and Deborah search for the child, the latter not letting go of her son's hand in fear of losing him, too. The worry cements as time passes on, to no avail of finding the child. "Y/n! It's not funny! COME OUT, NOW!"
Nothing.
After a full hour of looking for you, Robert calls the police--a frightening call no father ever wants to have to make. He and Deborah somehow manage to make it through explaining to the police, then the FBI (who take on the case) about what happened. They promise to try their hardest, but to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. They're told that the officers will stay in contact, and are then left alone, Deborah clutching her son's hand for dear life--she's lost one child, she can't lose a second. On the drive home, both parents avoid their son's questions about his sister. They have him go to bed, sitting in his room as he falls asleep and neither leaving. They are solidified in silence--Deborah letting her husband, the man she's separated from but hasn't divorced--stay at her house. She offers the couch, but he opts to stay in Indio's room, waiting on the police to call. They take turns with staying up, both to watch the six-year-old and to be there when the call comes. The couple begins to spiral as the hours drag on, the hope of a good phone call diminishing as time passes.
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SAN SALVADOR, EL SALVADOR: UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
As the news runs the kidnapping of Y/n Falconer-Downey, the boss turns to his right-hand man and the man's wife.
"I thought I told you to get girls to sell?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then why do we have the daughter of a celebrity?"
The three people in the room, except the guards, glance at the child on the floor, currently in the process of gaining conciousness.
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
"You're damn right, it won't." Two gunshots ring out, and the bodies of husband and wife slump to the ground as blood pools. Unfazed, the boss cleans his gun before moving to the almost-four-year-old, pressing a chloroform-soaked cloth to her nose again and sending her back to sleep.
"Hector?" He asks. His left-hand man, now his right-hand, comes running. Hector pales at the sight of Jose but says nothing, forcing his face to become normal.
"Sir?"
"Have the guards clean up the mess."
"Yes, sir."
The boss slowly moves the child to roll on her back, her breathing sending a piece of hair fluttering. He studies her before coming to a decision. "Oh, and Hector?"
"Yes?"
"Get Jorge. Tell him he has a new assignment; I've decided to spare him."