Nick Cutter was in a world of trouble, he ached all over, he wasn't sure where he was, and he'd been staked out as bait for something. Someone had tied his hands behind his back, and wrapped a chain around his legs, he couldn't move, the sun beat down on his bare back. His cheek pressed against the sand, Nick groaned. It didn't help the pain, but he proved to himself that he was still alive. He had seen the sun move round, so he knew he had been here wherever here was, for a least five hours.
Unable to free himself, he struggled to hang on.
The buzzing noise behind him startled him, he tried to lick his lips, but his throat was totally dry. His head was swimming.
Hands reached down to him. "Shit." The voice said loudly, with a distinct accent that he hadn't heard in his life before. "Dammit, going to have to take you with me. And since we don't have much time, forgive the informality." He was dragged upright and draped over someone's lap, head resting against what appeared to be a feminine hip, he had time to register that he appeared to be slumped over a quad bike when the someone who'd just saved him from being dinosaur bait, gunned the engine and with the brief sensation of flying through the air, he passed out from a combination of pain and exhaustion.
He awoke to a completely different sensation. Cool cotton sheets, a soft comfortable bed, he was lying on his front, his bruised and torn wrists had been cleaned and bandaged, someone had tended the painful sunburn on his back and various other scrapes and cuts, he moved experimentally and moaned at the throbbing pain which pounded at his senses from every inch of his body, and the slight sense of embarrassment that he appeared to be stark naked beneath the sheets. A cool hand was laid against his forehead, a soft voice sounded quietly just above his head, "take it easy."
He opened his eyes more fully and struggled to focus on her face. A pretty face, with a long shaggy mane of dark hair surrounding it, she was very young. Not more than 22 or so. He tried to articulate his thanks but his mouth was still dry. She gently helped him ease over onto his back, and sit up, holding the glass for him, as he drank. "Thanks." his voice sounded strange to him. She eased a couple of pillows behind him and made him comfortable, then sat down beside him on the bed, which felt somewhat uncomfortable but in a good way.
"My name is Coralie Jakobs. I'm a computer games designer, and I've been playing in my own private otherworld for the last ten years, since I was thirteen. About eight years ago, your wife, Helen Cutter started showing up, and I've been successfully avoiding her, and you, ever since;" She smiled "until two days ago, when I came across your battered corpse staked out as bait, and discovered that you weren't quite as dead as I first thought you were. So I picked you up and brought you back here. Cleaned you up," she smiled at his quick flush, and the way he pulled the sheet a little closer, "now I'm trying to figure out what to do with you."
"I need to get back to the Arc." Nick tried to move to get out of bed, but everything hurt too much. He blushed with embarrassment for second time when Coralie made him comfortable, although, he acknowledged to himself, there was nothing but gentle efficiency in her touch.
"Well, you're not going anywhere right now, so I am going to have to bring someone to you." She wasn't too keen on that, but he needed to contact his people. "So who's it going to be."
Jenny? He really wasn't sure exactly where they stood. He'd read so many signals wrong, and right now he was feeling too tired and sore to deal with arguments. Connor? His bumbling computer genius had a good heart, but a disastrous follow through. Abbey? His zoologist was fine, intelligent, caring and well able to keep certain matters private. Certain that he wasn't going to ask Sir James Lester, boss and arch critic, to be his assistant "Abbey," he said, confident that he'd made the right choice, "but...how?"
"Well your phone was smashed, but I should be able to recover the numbers from it." she looked down at him, he was pale beneath the sunburn, and in a bad way, "you had better get some more rest." She bent over him, helping him ease down the bed. "I''l come back when I've got the number."
He tried to thank her, but his headache was worsening, and the sense of drowning was rising up again. He closed his eyes, and felt the gentle touch of her hand on his forehead, then nothing.
Coralie sat down at her desk, the bedroom door was ajar in case he needed anything, and because you like watching over him, admit it. She had been stunned to find him, and horrified, because at first she had thought he was dead, then she'd realised he was still alive, she had seen the signs of animals in the area, and knew her time was running out, she needed to get back through the anomaly or be stuck there for the night at least. With an injured man, insufficient supplies and no major weapon, that would be an extremely bad idea. Aware that she had no real idea of any possible internal injuries, she needed to take a chance.
So she'd brought him back through, and it was nearly midnight before she'd managed to get back to her place. She'd driven as close to her front door as she could get, raced in to retrieve a blanket, then used it to drag him down her short front hall to her bedroom, thanking her lucky stars that no one would be likely to see her, her tiny little lodge was off the beaten track, at the bottom of the drive which led to her parents' home, since they were away in Scotland, it was very unlikely that anyone would be coming down the drive at that time of night.
She'd managed to get him on the bed, managed to get what remained of his clothes off, and settled down to cleaning up and dressing the various cuts, grazes and bruises on his body. He'd remained completely out of it during her ministrations, and this worried her. So she'd called the one person in the world she knew she could completely trust.
Andrew Griffiths looked more like the prop forward he was in his spare time, than the talented Doctor he was in his every day life. A fellow extreme sports enthusiast he'd saved her bacon on more than one occasion, and Coralie needed his help now.
He'd examined Cutter with a swift efficiency, "bruises, cuts, rope burns on his wrists, major case of sunburn and dehydration." he glanced up at her a teasing light in his eyes, "I'm sure there's some terribly valid reason why you have Professor Nicholas Cutter, unconscious and in your bed, after having such a major crush on him all this time."
Coralie blushed, and her lower lip trembled, "Oh Griff!" she sought assurance against his firm shoulder.
"Buck up girl," his voice was warm and caring "he's not dead yet, and you've apparently saved him from a dreadful fate." He looked sideways down at her, and Coralie hesitated, then nodded.
"Girl, I told you not to go there on your own!" Griff scolded her. "We've talked about this before."
"Griff, it was a one time thing, I was in and out really quickly, and to be honest, I'm not sorry I did."
"Just make sure it was just a one time thing." He looked stern. "You know better than most what can go wrong. I don't like seeing you take unnecessary risks."
Coralie looked down at the unconscious man lying in her bed. "Griff, you know it's the source of the games, my inspiration. Tonight made me realise that the risks of going alone are too great."
She looked into his serious eyes, "I promise I won't be doing it again."
"See you don't." Then all doctor again. "Keep him quiet and make sure he gets plenty of rest, I'll put in an I/V to get the fluids started, for god's sake don't let him pull it out, when he wakes up you need to get him to drink plenty of water. I would suggest that he stays put for at least tomorrow and possibly Thursday too. I'll come back tomorrow night to check him over."
After he left, Coralie sat and pondered the truth of his words. It was very true that Otherworld was dangerous, and that she shouldn't have been there on her own. And it's also true that you've had crush on Professor Nicholas Cutter since you first read one of his books, then Dad took you to those lectures, and that was it. Now he was sleeping in her bed. He was even better up close than from the back of a lecture hall, and she'd saved him. Trouble is, she didn't have a clue what to do about it.
"Oh my god...you look terrible."
Nick opened his eyes, his vision still a bit blurred, he blinked and the fuzzy edges disappeared, sharpening up the image of Abbey staring down at his battered self. "Thanks." his voice was still hoarse from the effects of being left in the blazing sun.
Abbey sat down on the bed next to him, and took his hand in both of hers. "We've all been out of our minds with worry."
"All?" He seriously doubted that Lester would be anything other than his unflappable urbane self.
"All." She said firmly. He looked up at her, and the most unexpected thought popped into his head, that here was a beautiful, intelligent young woman, and yet her touch doesn't effect me in the same way as the young woman who saved my life yesterday. And he didn't have the slightest idea what to do with that knowledge. He suddenly realised that Abbey was still speaking to him.
"I had to tell Jenny...and Connor...and we all agreed to keep it to ourselves for now," she was saying, "until we know who did this to you."
"It was Helen." Nick didn't want to acknowledge that particularly painful truth, but his ex wife now viewed him as expendable since he'd turned down her offer of remaking the universe. He only remembered scraps of how he ended up face down, grilling like a steak, in the blazing hot sun. He'd been walking to his car. Something had connected with the back of his neck, and the roof had caved in, he was being carried, voices, the snarls of an animal, heat, dust, even with his eyes closed, the unrelenting orange light assaulting his senses. He dragged himself back from that unpleasant memory with an effort, aware of the concern in Abbey's face; he was tired, so very tired, all he wanted to do right now was sleep. His eyelids drooped again, and he started to drift away. I'll sort it all out later.
Abbey was horrified, and quite scared. Nick Cutter was a strong man, quiet and reserved, but with an inner strength that carried him through what, Abbey was the first to admit, were some pretty hairy situations. She wasn't used to seeing him like this, vulnerable, and it scared her more than she was prepared to admit. That anyone could do what they'd done to him, revolted her, but that it was Helen, the woman he'd loved and lost, and mourned for so long, made her feel really sick.
When she'd first come to the door and knocked, she'd been taken aback by Coralie Jakobs. The other woman was younger, and prettier, than she'd imagined. There was something in the slightly defiant look in Coralie's eyes which made her wonder, just a little, what Nick Cutter could possibly be to Coralie, but the sight of her battered, bruised and very sunburnt boss had chased those thoughts out of her head.
"Is it all right if I stay for a while." she looked up at the young woman.
"Sure." Coralie was a little cool and watchful, and Abbey wondered again what Nick was to her. It was perfectly plain to her, Abbey, that this young woman had feelings for her boss. God, there must be close to twenty years age gap. And she recognised her. Coralie Jakobs was connected to the corridors of power in some way. A while back, when googling Sir James Lester partly out of curiosity, partly out of annoyance, she'd come across a photograph taken at some society function or other, Sir James and this young woman. So she clearly moved in those kind of circles. Abbey acknowledged there were going to be other problems along the way, not the least what Lester was going to say when he found out that a few members of the public, at least, apparently not only knew about the anomalies, but had been visiting them for years, in fact years before even Helen had apparently vanished into one.
She sat and pondered these problems, still holding Nick's hand. She was unsure if she was trying to impart some degree of comfort to him, or deriving comfort from holding his hand, reassuring herself that the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers was real, that he was alive and whilst not exactly well, on the road to recovery. Abbey narrowed her eyes, whatever else happened she was going to get Helen Cutter, for Nick, for Stephen and even for her little pet, Rex.