(A/N: Well, as usual, this is going to be yaoi. Male/Male. Slash. You know, gay stuff. ;D

Umm, seriously though, warnings..let's see...

**WARNINGS- (implied) Rape, language, violence, annoying amounts of sobbing in later chapters, child abuse.**

In case it confuses you, Conner's sister is spelled 'Allysa.' I realize, we did get the spelling wrong a few times. If you find a place where it isn't corrected (aside from the time Conner's phone auto-corrects it to 'Allyssa') then feel free to tell us!

Hannah says sorry for being out of order on the list.

And I'm sorry if we spelled anything wrong or used poor grammar, I was really lazy when editing it. D:

I'm sorry.

Lastly, reviews/critics are appreciated!

This story was a bit rushed and didn't turn out Quite how I wanted, but we gave it to you anyway~

Anyway, I hope you guys like this.

~Abby)

"I saw him! He just came up and shot him, he did!"

"He did it! Davis!"

"He just walked up to Mark and shot him!"

Conner sighed, looking away from the tv screen, back to his phone.

'Why did you do it?'

The text seemed to have had more impact on the recipient than he'd originally intended, for Washington hadn't yet responded.

He sighed, looking back to the television as some female news reporter went on to describe the shooting of Mark Rankin; some convenient store clerk who had probably been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

This wasn't part of the plan...

The brunet teenager felt his phone vibrate and looked down to see. Washington's response.

'It was an accident.'

He frowned, answering with the first thing that went through his mind.

'How do you accidentally shoot someone in the head, GW?"

GW- George Washington. That's what he called him.

Because 'Washington' reminded him of the first president of the United States, and Washington had once-upon-a-time mentioned he thought it was cute when Conner called him George.

Then again, Washington was talking to 'Callie.'

Not Conner.

He chuckled, smirking as he thought about Washington.

Washington Davis...

A boy at the age of 20, with shoulder length dark blond hair and mocha brown eyes. He was tall, tan, has his left ear pierced, and typically dressed better than most political figures that Conner knew.

He was...different.

Conner blinked, looking down when he noticed Washington had texted him back.

'He tried to tackle me. The gun went off. I didn't know what to do. He was screaming. I just wanted him to be quiet. I didn't mean to kill him.'

Conner sighed, running a hand through his naturally brunet hair, looking at the screen of his phone for another few minutes.

"Goddamnit, George..." He mumbled to himself, answering the text quickly.

'Fine. Just be careful, there's a lot of publicity surrounding this. I don't want you to get hurt.'

Hurt.

He almost laughed.

What did he care if Washington got hurt? It wasn't his problem. He was the one that chose to get involved with this.

If Washington got hurt, he would just have to find someone else to do this.

It took a moment for the other to reply, then;

'I will be. Don't worry so much.'

'It isn't my fault if I worry a lot. Girls do that.'

Ugh.

Conner felt something twist in his stomach at the words.

Girls do that.

Girls.

He frowned, looking at the name in his phone.

George.

He thought about the name that was probably coming up when the other boy spoke to him. Callie.

Ugh.

He hated pretending to be female.

But this was worth it.

'I know...I have to go. I hear sirens. I'm deleting your number and the texts now, so they won't find it immediately. If I don't text back in two hours, ditch the phone before they try to track you.'

Conner winced, biting his lip slightly.

Fuck...Two hours...

Wait...

Why did it bother him? He had other things to do, didn't he?

Then he heard the front door open, and his father staggered in. He could immediately tell that the bastard was drunk again.

'Fine. Don't get caught. Have to go anyway. Father just got home.'

He barely had time to send the text before he felt strong arms wrap around his waist and a strong feeling of nausea came over him.

He closed the phone, looking up at his father, terrified even though he tried not to show it.

His father was a state senator, and he was supposed to be a really important political figure.

If the reporters ever found out what he was really like, they'd have a field day, though.

If Conner ever told anyone other than Washington, they wouldn't believe him though.

"Conner," he whispered, and the teen could smell the alcohol on his father's breath, "come with me to the bedroom, your mom won't be home for a few hours."

He could feel all the smugness and power he had felt while talking to Washington just trickle away as his father forcefully dragged him to his parents' bedroom.

He took a last glance at his phone, which was sitting on the kitchen table. It was the only thing he had that could save him. But it was useless when he couldn't get to it. And the only person who would do anything, would be Washington. He couldn't have Washington finding anything out too early though.

Then Conner was shoved roughly into the room and the door was closed and locked behind them.

-X-X-0-X-X-

"Washington. Washington Davis. Age; 20. Location: Unknown. He is armed, and willing to kill."

The chief narrowed his eyes, pointing at a grainy picture of a blond boy, tall, wearing a ragged hoodie, and a gun in his hand, that he'd had his tech-savvy agents-Julie and Sheldon-post on the screen for them.

"That's not much to go off of, sir," Vincent, the senior field officer, responded, frowning as he looked at the picture.

"That's all we have, Vincent." The chief -Gordan- replied, motioning to Julie.

"We have Julie working her magic to try and get some info on this kid, but right now, we have noting. I want every squad on the streets watching out for this kid. He shot this guy in the head, and we have no reason to believe that he won't do the same to some other poor shmuck." Gordan looked at the faces around him.

"Got it?"

Vincent and the rest of the squad nodded.

In the background, Sheldon and Julie had huddled around one of their computer screens and were talking to each other in their technical language that none of the others -with the occasional exceptions of the chief and Karl, the psychological analyst- really understood.

Gordan watched them for a moment, before shaking his head, and clapping.

"Vincent, I want you to pick a team and go question the guys in holding, since they're witnesses, Julie, Sheldon, work faster. Karl, I want your opinion on this kid as soon as we have his info."

Vincent nodded, motioning for his usual team to follow him to the holding cell.

Sheldon blushed brightly, shuffling back to his own desk quietly with a mumbled 'Yes, sir.'

Gordan sighed, looking away from his team, catching sight of the grainy image and staring.

Washington Davis...

"Why'd ya' do it, kid?" He mumbled to himself, shaking his head, and finally turning away from the sad picture, to watch Sheldon and Julie work.