I am really sorry about this. One of these days I'll learn to tell what order my chapters go in.

Rating: T

Kidnapped

1 year

Detective Woodrow Jackson Hoytt, dressed only in a pair of thin ragged pants and a layer of dirt and grime, stumbled forward as a heavy hand shoved him. Fire bounded through his body as his scared shoulder slammed into the edge of the metal bunk. He could hear the laughter, harsh and unforgiving. He rolled to the side meeting another rage of pain on the rough broken floor. A boot heel crashed down on his recently lacerated forearm causing him to thrash out oblivious to everything except the fire coursing through his body, and his mind. A staggering blow, harsh guttural commands, and finally blissful blackness taking over everything.

Surging waves of the almost familiar fire told him that he still lived. He clawed his way up on top of the bunk before reaching for the food that should be on the floor. His hand touched damp concrete, an upturned plastic cup, and nothing else. A very small flash of pain as his fist hit the wall, barely there.

He'd almost grown used to the pain that raged through his body. They had attacked him for so long that he felt he was becoming immune to the pain. It was only his body that They attacked; They would never be able to reach his heart, his mind, his soul.

He waited.

The light grew so that he could see the recent damage They had wrought on his body, see but do nothing about. Then faded away again.

There was the harsh scraping of the door being opened. Woody didn't move. They could not do any worse than they already had. He didn't hear the expected guttural commands, but instead the harsh laughter but on a different note. He turned his head toward the blinding light in time to see someone shoved into the room followed by a course laughter. The person fell forward on the bunk across his chest where he automatically placed his arms around a woman.

A hallow thud rebounded around them as the door slammed shut, like the lid of a coffin.

Alone in their own black world the woman shoved away from Woody. As his eyes grew accustomed to the light again he could see her sitting hunched over on the edge of the bunk. He tentatively sat up and reached out touching her shoulder, her hair, her face now damp with tears. He didn't know what he expected her to do, but it wasn't for her to lean into his touch and move toward him slightly. He drew back surprised.

She reached out for him though touching his face and shoulders, sending a surge through him that he had not felt in a long time. The urge to take her almost overpowered everything else, but one thought broke in. They were both being held captive here, and she didn't deserve to be forced into submitting to the surge of what made him a man. He wouldn't do to her what more than one person had tried to do to him.

He shifted until he was laying down onhis side against the wall; letting her know she could join him, if she wanted to. After a moments hesitation she also lay down allowing him to draw her against his chest with his arms surrounding her.

Two men stood gazing through a clear panel on the floor.

"I told you he wouldn't do anything," the first said, gesturing to the sleeping figures under their feet. "He's to damn noble."

"He'll do something," the other insisted. "Now he's just feeling her out and getting used to company."

"Man, if she was given to me I'd have her in under ten minutes."

"You and every one else. I want to know why he gets her and we can't touch her. I could make much better use of her time."

"You and every other man here."

They both laughed a deep harsh laugh that held no good news … for anyone.