Author's Note: Original characters are mine, nothing else. No little girls were harmed during the writing of this fanfiction...I saw an episode of Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction, with a red-haired woman saving a little girl from a vault, and I wanted to do the same. This is for Harmoni's fanfiction contest (Muscle Heaven Yahoo! Group), in 20 minutes, which I had to challenge myself with ten pages or more (but this is fine) in that amount of time. Feedback is much appreciated.

Freddy Merchant had started the Monday morning rearranging the fancy, expensive jewelry in the glass cases, making sure every price and gem was accounted for. It was way too early for customers to come in and shop, but with his employer, Mr. Randall insisting on changing the store hours, Freddy had no choice. Mr. Randall was also looking for a bookkeeper to hold the store, as well, for the last one had ran off with $21,000 in expensive diamonds and gold chains, not to mention, almost caused the store to file for bankruptcy in unpaid bills.

Mid-Afternoon came, and Mr. Randall stepped out of his office. He let his employee know, "I'm not feeling well, Freddy. I'm taking the day off. Hold the shop for me and make sure that vault is locked."

"Will do, Mr. Randall," said Freddy as his employer left the shop. "Get well."

An hour later, a tall and muscular men with bright red hair as fire, skin pale as cow's milk, emerald eyes, and bushy, yet fiery eyebrows and goatee came to the shop. To Freddy, he looked intimidating. "Me name is Sheamus O'Shaunessy," the man had an Irish accent. "I came from the Work Agency downtown. A Mr. Randall hired me to be his bookkeeper."

What Mr. Randall forgot to tell him was that the new bookkeeper was to arrive to the shop today. "Uh, Mr. Randall took the day off," Freddy explained to the Irishman. "But if you'll stop by tomorrow, I'm sure he'll show you the—

"No need," Sheamus waved a hand and smiled. "I've done it before in me country, so I'm pretty sure where things go. Where is his office?"

"Very well. Oh, it's all the way to the back and to your left."

"Thank you." The Irishman left.

Meanwhile, a wealthy blonde woman and her nine-year-old daughter entered the shop. "My favorite customer!" exclaimed Freddy. "How are you, Mrs. Hallington?"

"Very well, thank you!" said the blonde.

Freddy turned to her daughter, Helen, "and how are you, today, Helen?"

"Good, Mr. Merchant," the little girl shyly uttered, then turned to her mother, "Mommy, may I please look around?"

"Yes, you may," Mrs. Hallington replied as the little girl went off to explore. "And don't touch!"

Helen explored and stared at the fine jewelry in rings, watches, and gold chains. Tiffany's had nothing like this. "Helen loved the gold locket for her birthday, by the way," Mrs. Hallington said to Freddy, meanwhile. "But, I came here today because I wanted to give Arthur a token of my love. It's our anniversary next month, and he's into pocket watches."

"Perhaps this?" Freddy showed her an exquisite, shiny pocket watch made out a fine mold of gold and the way it ticked.

Mrs. Hallington gazed at the timely object. "My, it's so beautiful. Oh, Arthur will love it."

Meanwhile, Helen explored the shop's trinkets, gazing at its beauty, until curiosity took her inside of the vault in the back of the shop. The very vault Mr. Randall had told Freddy to keep it closed. The vault closed, all right, with little Helen inside it. At the front, after Mrs. Hallington paid Freddy for the pocket watch, she looked around for her little girl. "Freddy, have you seen Helen?" she asked him.

"I saw her by the trinkets," Freddy responded.

"She's not by there. Helen? Helen, where are you?"

All of a sudden…

AAAAHHHH! MOMMY! HELP!

Mrs. Hallington and Freddy ran to the back of the shop and found the vault had closed by itself, locking Helen inside. Mrs. Hallington worried as Freddy tried to turn the combination lock back and forth, frantically. "Do you know the combination to this?" the blonde wealthy woman asked him, worried.

"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Hallington," said Freddy. "Only Mr. Randall knows it, and he left for today."

"Help, mommy!" cried the little girl.

"Don't worry, sweetie!" her mother shouted. "Mr. Merchant will get you out of there in no time!"

An hour later, a paramedic, a police officer, and a locksmith came to the shop. The locksmith, with the paramedic's stethoscope, tried to unlock the vault, turning the combination lock back and forth. He didn't hear a click, and both Mrs. Hallington and Freddy's worries increased. "I can't unlock the vault," the locksmith dismally told the mother. "Being that it is airtight, I'm afraid your daughter has a few hours to live before she suffers from lack of oxygen. It'll take a miracle to save her."

"Let me, then." Everyone turned to face Sheamus, who had finished with the work Mr. Randall left in his office. The Irishman stepped to the vault and kneeled down (to Helen's height inside). He turned to Mrs. Hallington. "What is her name, ma'am?"

"Helen," she responded.

"Helen!" the pale Irishman's voice projected inside of the vault. "Can yer hear me, lassie?"

"Yes," said the little girl.

"Me name is Sheamus, and I want to help yer get out. Do yer want to play a game, lassie?"

"I'm scared," Helen shyly responded, her voice full of fear and losing breath.

"Do not be scared, Helen." Sheamus's pale hand was on the combination lock. He had an idea. "This won't hurt. Ner, left or right?"

"Right." Helen shouted.

Sheamus turned the lock clockwise to zero. "Ner, I want yer give me a number from one to ninety-nine. What number?"

"Eighty-five." The little's girl's voice was strong, but they both had to beat the clock before Helen suffocates.

Sheamus turned the lock to eight-five.

CLICK!

"Ner, we're going to try again. Right or left?"

"Left."

"What number, from one to ninety-nine?"

"Twenty-three."

This time, the pale Irishman turned the lock counterclockwise to twenty-three. Mrs. Hallington prayed with her rosary next to Freddy and the police officer, hoping that she won't pass out and die from a broken heart.

CLICK!

"I don't wanna play anymore, Sheamus!" Helen cried out, her voice weary. "I feel dizzy!"

"We're almost there, lassie!" Sheamus assured her. "Don't give up. Left or right?"

"Right!"

"What number?"

…

"What number, lassie?"

"Twelve!"

Again, Sheamus turned the lock clockwise to twelve.

CLICK!

"One more time, Helen!" Sheamus said. "Don't give up on me! Left or right?"

…

"You can do it, ner! Left or right?"

"Left!" The little girl's voice was weak.

"What number?"

"Seven!"

Once again, the pale Irishmen turned the lock counterclockwise to seven, only this time, there was no click. He tried to call to Helen to start the game again, but it was obvious that she had passed out from lack of oxygen inside of the vault, dying. Time was running out, so Sheamus, with the combination stuck in his head, turned the lock back and forth. With the last number in mind, instead of turning left to seven, he turned right, then to seven.

Suddenly, Freddy gasped as he and the rest of them heard a…

CLICK!

Sheamus turned the handle and opened the vault door, and just as he predicted, little Helen was on the ground. The paramedic stepped in and placed an oxygen mask on her face. Helen woke up, and Mrs. Hallington gasped in joy as she was relieved that her daughter was going to be all right. The pale Irishman had left the shop so he could leave everyone to joy, and that the mother and child reunite. But, Helen wanted to thank him and give him a hug. "Mommy?" she asked her mother. "Where's the nice man? He saved my life."

"I don't know, sweetie," Mrs. Hallington responded as she looked around. "I'm sure he'd be appreciated."

Just then, a mysterious tall, muscular man with a brown ponytail came to the shop, and Freddy approached him. "Hello," the man introduced himself, in a thick, Scottish accent. "Meh name is Sheamus O'Shaunessy. I cayme from teh work agency dayntown. A Mr. Randall hired meh to beh hes bookkeeper."

Freddy stared at him, bewildered. If he was the real Sheamus O'Shaunessy, then who was….

THE END.