Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the O.C. All rights belong to the Fox network.

A/N: I was going to wait to post this until I'd finished writing the fic completely but considering my schedule the next couple of weeks, it won't be done by New Year's Eve so you get Part 1 now. Thanks to McLerran for the muse slap. Guess it worked! I started writing this before the Christmakkuh episode (which, by the way, was awesome! The first show of the second season I loved) so this fic will not deal with the whole Caleb/Lindsay issue and Summer never went to the Cohens' home for the holiday. They haven't reached the point of being friends yet.

Cell phone. Lip gloss. Wallet.

Summer Roberts snapped her tiny, beaded evening bag shut, satisfied that she had everything she needed. Hold on. Keys. Where did she leave her key ring?

Dropping her gaze from the ornate mirror by the front door, her eyes swept over the narrow hallway table. Nothing. One heeled foot tapped unconsciously as she cast her mind back to when she'd come home earlier. She'd had some shopping bags in hand and hefted them upstairs to her room. Dropped everything in a pile atop her bed. That's probably where her keys were buried.

With an annoyed click of her tongue, she turned around and went back upstairs, as quickly as she dared in her high heels. She was late. Probably more than fashionably late, even by Newport standards. Add tardiness to the list of things Zach's father could potentially hold against her. He already didn't approve of her. She wasn't an idiot, no matter how hard Zach tried to gloss over what had happened.

Bags were knocked to the floor in her haste but she found the elusive keys hiding under a Chanel scarf. One hand skimming the railing, she dashed down the stairs and out the door. Once in her car and on her way, she tried to force herself to calm down. Just thinking about the unexpected meeting with Zach's father made her neck and shoulders tense.

She had gone to South Coast Plaza with Zach a few days before Christmas. She'd wanted to get one more gift for Marissa, something small, and he'd agreed to keep her company. They'd been walking hand in hand when Zach had suddenly jerked to a stop. Her attention had been caught by a showcase of sandals, lovingly on display in all their glittery holiday glory. But she did notice when Zach had uttered those fateful two words.

"Hi Dad!"

Her head had snapped around to come face-to-face with a tall, distinguished looking man. He had been smiling at his son and then had turned his gaze towards her. It had been almost imperceptible, but his eyes had flickered from her toes to the top of her head in just a split second. She'd suddenly wished she hadn't chosen to wear one of her shorter skirts. And although she'd resisted the urge to look down, her midriff skimming top had felt entirely too snug.

"Zach," the older man had said at last. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Same here. Last minute shopping?"

"Your mother decided she needs silver candles instead of red. I've been sent on a mission."

Zach had shaken his head slightly in amusement and then motioned towards Summer. "Dad, I'd like you to meet Summer. The amazing girl I've been telling you about. Summer, this is my father."

"Nice to meet you," she'd said automatically. The handshake had been brief, the blue irises cool and penetrating.

"Yes, good to meet you too. Are you here for Christmas shopping?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes, for my friend Coop…um, Marissa. I already bought her something but I need something else to go along with it so that's why we're here. To shop. I just love shopping. Still haven't found it yet, though, so uh, Zach, maybe we should keep looking?"

Maybe she should have stopped talking after the first word. Even looking back, she couldn't figure out what the hell had come over her. She might not be the most articulate person in the world but even she was capable of more intelligent speech than that. She'd been truly embarrassed and no amount of consoling from Zach later on could convince her that she hadn't just made a complete fool out of herself. It had been obvious by the dismissive look in the man's eyes before they'd parted ways.

Feeling a tingle run up her arm, Summer realized how tightly she was gripping the steering wheel. She had to get a grip, all right. Playing that unfortunate meeting over and over again in her head wasn't going to help. She'd be seeing both of Zach's parents tonight and vowed to get it right this time. She was quite adept at turning on the charm. She'd just been caught by surprise at the mall. That's all. Of course, sneaking some champagne at the party probably wouldn't hurt either. There was sure to be plenty of it floating around.

She should probably call to say she was running late. Keeping one eye on the road and the other on her purse, she managed to extract the cell phone with one hand. Just as she was about to dial, the little yellow light on the dashboard started flashing to get her attention. Her gaze focused in on the gas gauge needle. It hovered over the big red 'E'.

"Great!" she spat out loud. She'd meant to stop at the gas station on the way home from her shopping excursion. Now she debated on whether to keep going to Zach's house or make a detour. Putting the phone down, she drove along and noticed a station coming up on her right. Perfect. It would only take a few minutes.

With her bag tucked under her arm, she stepped out. The cold wind took her breath away for a moment. In her haste to leave, she'd forgotten her wrap at home. What more could go wrong tonight?

With the gas tank practically empty, it was taking forever to fill up. But wait, what was she thinking? She didn't have to fill it all the way up. Glancing at the digital display on the pump, she released the lever. About twenty three dollars worth. That was more than enough. Shivering, she slipped out her credit card and inserted it into the slot. Nothing happened. She tried it again.

A disembodied voice crackled from somewhere above her head, making her jump a bit. "Ma'am, you'll have to come inside to pay. If you want to pay at the pump with your credit card, you have to do that first before you put the gas in."

Summer bit her lip, feeling foolish. Of course. She should know that. But she'd been in a rush. Muttering under her breath, she ran into the store, feeling the minutes ticking by. It didn't take long and soon she was dashing back to her car. Yanking the door open, she tossed in her purse and was on her way again. She was sure her bare arms were covered with goosebumps. She hated that feeling.

"Do as I say and you won't get hurt."

Oh dear God. Someone was in the back seat. Her heart started hammering and she couldn't breathe. Without thinking, she started to turn her head. Something round and cold jammed into the back of her neck, making her eyes widen and her throat constrict.

"Don't turn around," the low, rumbling voice ordered. "In case you're wondering, this is a gun. And step on the gas. Keep driving."

She hadn't realized her foot had come off the pedal. They were at a complete stop. As if it was made of lead and under someone else's control, her foot stomped on the gas and the car jerked forward with a rush of acceleration. She eased off the pedal immediately, barely managing to avoid careening onto the sidewalk. But not before the pressure at the base of her neck dug in even deeper, making her whimper.

"Take it easy, lady! If you try to crash the car, your brains are gonna be blown all over the dash. And I don't wanna clean up that fucking mess so I suggest you keep us on the road."

She couldn't seem to get her breathing under control. It was so fast and ragged that combined with the mad thumping of her heart, she was afraid she would pass out. This couldn't be happening. Please let this be a nightmare. She just wanted to wake up and find herself safe in her warm bed. This couldn't be happening to her.

But somehow, she was in automatic pilot mode and kept driving, even stopping for the lights. Music continued to waft from the radio and she heard the plaintive strains of the song 'What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?' A hysterical laugh almost bubbled to the surface. She was being carjacked, of course. Isn't that what everyone did this time of year?

If she was a smart heroine like in the movies, she would have summoned up some help by now. Signalled an S.O.S. with her brake lights or something equally inventive. But she was paralysed and sick with terror. Where did he want to go? What would he do when they got there? Rape her? Kill her? Why, there were all sorts of possibilities. She desperately wanted to at least voice the question of what did he want, but she was afraid of the answer. Besides, she doubted if her voice would even cooperate. Her mouth was so dry, it actually hurt.

"Turn right at those lights."

She obeyed without question, heading off of the main road. He directed her down a couple more streets before telling her to stop the car. The stores lining the street were all closed, their windows darkened. All was quiet and no one was around, leaving her feeling utterly alone and helpless. Not a good position to be in.

"Hand over your purse."

With a trembling hand, she reached for the small bag and held it up. This time, she didn't attempt to turn her head, ever aware of the gun seeming to burn a hole through the back of her neck. She emitted a startled gasp when the strong, gloved hand roughly grabbed her wrist. "Is that real?" the man demanded.

Her foggy brain couldn't decipher what he meant. "What?" she managed to croak weakly.

"Your ring," he snapped, his tone impatient now. "Real emerald and diamonds?"

"Y-yes."

"Take it off and hand it over too. Actually, just put it in the purse." He leaned in closer, his face just inches from her head. "I'm watching," he added.

Although the ring twisted easily off her finger, she nervously fumbled with the clasp on the purse. While he'd been studying her ring, she'd snuck a sideways glance at him. She'd almost been relieved to see the mask over his face. It was one of those knitted ski masks with the holes for the eyes and mouth. Rather cheesy, actually. She thought thieves and robbers only wore them in the movies. But for the first time, a thread of hope shot through her. She wouldn't be able to identify him. Maybe he would just let her go.

"How old are you?" he asked abruptly.

Why would he care? But she answered honestly, surprised her mouth could even form coherent words. "Seventeen."

"Christ, you're just a kid," he muttered. "What are you doing in a car like this? Wait, let me guess, it must be daddy's car, right? Or maybe he bought it for you. Guess I forgot where I was for a minute."

She froze as the pressure of the gun shifted, snaking around to the side of her neck. Unsure of what he was doing, her nerves seemed to jump and dance beneath her skin, the tiny hairs on the surface prickling

"Diamond on that necklace?" he asked. She nodded, suddenly afraid to speak. "Put it in the purse too."

Rather than awkwardly bending her arms around, she had enough sense to rotate the delicate platinum chain so she could undo the clasp from the front. Biting her inner lip, she concentrated on steadying her shaky fingers and thankfully, the job was done within a few seconds.

"How about those earrings?"

Her hand unconsciously touched her earlobe, feeling the outline of the chandelier earrings. "These aren't real," she informed him.

He leaned in closer, resting the muzzle of the gun just below her collar bone. His nearness, his warm breath grazing her skin, made her want to shrink away from him. But she instinctively remained still, fearful of setting him off, giving him some reason not to let her go. "I don't believe you," he said, his voice low and taunting.

She gaped at him but started unhooking the shimmery earrings. "These would cost, like, a million dollars if they were real. My dad's not that rich. But you can have them." Shoving the last of her accessories into her bag, she snapped it shut and held it out for him.

With the prize in hand, he pulled back, taking the gun with him. "You did good, kid. Now get out."

Stupid. For some reason, she was surprised. She expected him to run off. Of course he wanted the car. She spied the cell phone on the passenger seat and reached out for it.

Instantly, she realized her mistake but it was too late. An arm pressed against her windpipe, choking her, the gun jammed so tightly to her temple she was sure it would leave a permanent indentation.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"I'm sorry!" she squeaked, her eyes tightly screwed shut. Icy chills slid down her spine, bursting into tiny stars of sparkling terror through each nerve ending. "I just w-wanted my phone."

"Why, so you could call the cops?"

Her throat was being squeezed so tightly, she gagged, feeling dizzy and light headed. "N-no. I c-can't breathe," she whimpered. She almost cried from relief as he eased the pressure off slightly, allowing her to gulp in air. "I just want to go h-home," she tried to assure him. "I won't call the police."

The wait seemed endless as he contemplated her words. It sounded pathetic, even to her own ears. Of course he would think she would call the police. But she was telling the truth. The last thing she wanted to do was deal with cops right now. But she had blown it and now he wouldn't let her go. Though she hadn't given in to tears yet, she could feel them welling up beneath her closed lids.

"Fine. Take the phone."

She couldn't believe it. Maybe it was a trick. Her eyes fluttered open as he removed his arm and pulled back the gun, though he remained close. "Doesn't matter if you call them anyway. I'll be long gone by then and it won't take us long to strip this baby down. In fact, if I had more time, kid, I'd ask you to strip down 'cause you're about the most gorgeous thing I've seen tonight. But I need to get outta here, so take off."

She wasn't sure whether to feel disgusted or flattered but since she mostly felt like throwing up, she guessed it was the former. Grabbing the cell phone before he could change his mind, she wrenched open the door, not bothering to close it. Unlike earlier tonight, she welcomed the cold rush of air. It meant freedom.

She started running down the sidewalk, her footing unsteady in her precarious heels. Glancing behind her, she saw him get into the driver's seat and slam the door shut. Having a sudden thought, she ducked behind the trunk of a large tree, crouching down, panting for breath. He still had that gun and if he did change his mind, she pictured herself getting shot in the back as he drove by. But he drove off, without even looking back in her direction.

Drawing out a shaky breath, her knees seemed to give way and she ungracefully landed on her butt. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. She was alive. She'd made it. The little patch of grass she sat on was lumpy and uncomfortable but she didn't move for the longest time, resting her forehead on her knees. She tried to keep her mind as blank as possible, focusing on what she had to do next. If she even considered giving in to her emotions, she would lose it completely.

The cell phone was clutched in a death grip within her right hand. At long last, she unfurled her fingers, stared at it, and flipped it open.