Wilbur is close to crying. Sobbing even. He, who works as a detective, a very prestigious one at that, had just found his own child, a month and two days after their kidnapping. Usually, with most cases, he can deal with it, even the most brutal ones, he could stomach the images, and be sympathetic when he needed, staying professional otherwise. But this, this broke him.

He had spent countless nights silently crying over his limited evidence to finding his child, he was dependent on his brothers and father for comfort. But that didn't matter right now, he has them in the backseat of his car, a police car trailing behind to ensure their safety untill he pulls into the police station. He stares at his kid though the rear view mirror for a moment, they haven't spoken a word. He's not exactly sure what happened to them, but he knows it's bad.

Yet, he had to stay somewhat professional. He still has to get this all documented, then, as his boss fortunately stated, he can take a week or so off to look after his traumatised baby. Wilbur gets out of the car and adjusts his outfit and glasses to look at least composed and organised. He leads his kid into the police station with a protective arm fastened around their shoulder, trying to keep his cool.