A/N: Hi everyone – here's my second Mac/Dick story. I suppose it's set at the beginning of their sophomore year at Hearst. I wrote it rather quickly, so I can't say for certain that there aren't any typos or plot holes. If I find anything glaring, I'll repost. There will be two more chapters to follow. I hope you enjoy it!

Mac awoke slowly and started when she realized she had no clue where she was. She sat up and brought her hands to her head. No apparent bumps. She wracked her brain, trying to remember her last actions…could there have been a tequila bender involved? No, no, that wasn't it. She gave up speculating when she realized she was alone in a large, empty room. When she reached the door, she amended her earlier observation—she was alone in a large, empty room that was locked from the outside.

"Well, crap."

With a half-smile on her face, Veronica approached the table where Dick and Logan were wrestling over the remaining cheesy-fries on the table.

"You know," she said as she rested her palms on the tabletop, "It always makes me nostalgic when I see you two playing."

Logan immediately released his hold on the scruff of Dick's neck.

"Why Veronica, there's no call for sarcasm. If I wanted to, I could give you a list of five mature things I've done this week. Maybe even seven," he told her with a schooled look of nonchalance.

The smile left Veronica's face. "I wasn't being sarcastic."

Logan's expression faltered. "Oh."

Next to Logan, Dick heaved a loud sigh. "Are you guys headed for another reconciliation? Because I don't know if my fragile psyche can handle this on-again, off-again thing for much longer. And, yeah, I used the word psyche," he said to Veronica. "Know what it means and everything."

"But can you spell it?" she responded before she heard someone calling her name from across the room. Without turning around, she rubbed her hands together and looked at the ceiling with a wistful expression. "Ah, the dulcet sound of someone desperate for my help. I never tire of hearing it."

She turned then, and saw Max hurrying across the dining hall.

"Veronica!"

"Yeah, I got it," she said. "You need my help. Cut to the specifics."

"Mac's been kidnapped."

Mac banged her hand against the door for what felt like the thousandth time. Beyond frustrated, she let her head fall against the door. That was the moment when the door swung outward, sending her toppling at the feet of a well-dressed blonde woman.

"Hey," the woman said. "Is there a reason you're on the ground?"

"Well," Mac said, "I simply couldn't choose between all the elegant and luxurious furnishings, and that's why I ended up on the floor."

The woman laughed. "You're pissed. I get it. Sorry about the drugging and everything. And I wouldn't have locked you in here, but we had business to do. We picked you up a burger, though."

"I'm a vegan."

"Oh." She turned to the tall man in a suit behind her. "Oliver, go get her something vegan."

Mac stood up. "Not that I'm not excited at the prospect of food, but I'd be downright giddy if I knew why I was here."

The woman nodded. "Your boyfriend, Max. I assume you know he had a thing with an escort?"

Mac nodded uncomfortably.

"I'm her agent. One of her regulars came back from overseas recently and was very disappointed to find her out of business. And I've got to keep my customers happy."

Mac felt a chill go down her spine at the woman's last comment. The blonde seemed to notice.

"We're not going to hurt you. We just need you as leverage until your boyfriend gives up Wendy's information. And you can call me Sandy, by the way."

"Is that really your name?"

"No, but that's what you can call me."

"Why did you take me?" Mac asked. "Wouldn't Wendy care more if you snatched Max?"

"I figure that Wendy will come back if we can just talk to her, but she probably wouldn't if we held her boytoy captive," she said. "Also, I'm a traditionalist. Kidnapping boys just seems wrong, somehow."

"But grabbing girls from their rooms is okay?"

"Now, now, don't get testy. You'll be back to your own computer-centric world before you know it. Speaking of, Happy here is quite the techno geek. He keeps talking about some computer system with a dirty name."

"Ubuntu isn't a dirty word," the large, black man grunted.

Mac perked up and was soon happily defending the merits of the OS X system and devouring a vegan burrito.

"I think she's in serious trouble," Max said.

Veronica looked at him, unimpressed.

"Mac's not really the kind of girl who's going to feel the need to check in with her boyfriend every hour—are you sure she isn't just busy with school stuff?"

"I'm sure," he said. "I just got this." He held up his cell phone and showed Veronica a picture of Mac lying on her back on a cement floor. There was graffiti on the wall behind her, and while there was no obvious damage to Mac's head, she looked very pale.

Veronica's face paled a bit, too, and she put the phone facedown on the table, then looked up at Max seriously.

"Do you know who would do this?"

He opened his mouth but didn't say anything. He started to speak a few times, but he kept trailing off. Veronica was growing impatient.

"Hey, it occurs to me you've never seen me demonstrate how my taser works," she said conversationally, reaching into her bag.

"Okay, okay," Max said quickly. "I know who did it, and what they want."

"Well, that's easy enough, then: give it to them," Veronica said, her voice daring him to contradict her. Her fingers flexed on the taser when she saw him shake his head slightly.

"I don't think I can do that," he said. "They want Wendy."

"I thought Wendy took off," Veronica said.

"Well I've sort of been talking to her again," Max said, averting his eyes.

"You're cheating on Mac?" Logan asked with an edge to his voice. He came around the table to stand next to Veronica, his arms crossed over his chest.

"No!" Max said. "We've just been talking, a lot. And I'm pretty sure I saw one of her madam's lackeys following me around last week. I guess he found out we were talking."

"Which guy was it?"

"The tall, creepy one."

"Did you get a license plate?"

"No, I never saw a car."

"Okay, well, first thing's first. We need to—" Veronica stopped mid-sentence. "Where's your phone?"

"Better question," Logan said. "Where's Dick?"