Kidnapped

Rating: Pg-13
Summary: Woody and Jordan get kidnapped, though things do not turn out as expected.
A/N: Do not ask me where I got the idea for this. I'm tired of answering that question.

1 year 1 week

Woody was sitting on the edge of his bunk forcing down the rock hard bread, and leather tough piece of jerky that was his standard meal; when he got one. Though being able to sit up and eat it was a recent improvement. They hadn't come to take him anywhere for awhile, which confused him a little. They'd come to take her away five times. They had just left him here and taken her against his strongest protests. The light had increased and then faded until it was dark enough that he could only see her outline. Which was when They returned her to him with a small meal that he'd silently hand most of to her.

Silence. That was how they spent their time together, silent. He was giving her the chance to say the first words. She wouldn't though and they'd lay down together holding each other close.

This time started out the same way as every other. She was forced into the room and his arms, the food was thrown in after her, two plastic cups of water were set inside the door, and it was shut with the harsh scraping sound. Leaving them alone in the darkness. By that time her arms were around him, then after a few seconds his eyes got used to the light and he could see the jagged slice on her cheek along with the increased shadows around her eyes.

He waited until she sat up on the edge of the bunk before fetching the cups and shoving one into her hands. Then he sat beside her and using the only extra scrap of fabric he had to clean the side of her face.

"Don't move," he demanded, and to his surprise she didn't. "What did They do to you?"

"Nothing," she muttered trying to duck away. Her voice pierced through him bringing up memories of the one person he prayed she wasn't.

"Don't move," the coldness in his voice surprised even him. He set the cup and rag on the floor before taking her face in his hands. "I'm sorry," he continued softly a little frightened by his own actions, "but what did they do to you?"

"Nothing."

"Stop," the coldness in his voice had returned. He couldn't help it he had to know. "What did they do?"

She shoved him away. "I got in a fight with a couple women." She got up and moved to the far corner, standing with her back to him.

He couldn't see her eyes, but her voice told him the truth. He got up gently touching her shoulder, "I'm sorry."

She turned slapping his hand away with a blow that bit deeper than any blow They had dealt. "What the hell do you care! Why do you give a damn what happens to me!"

Woody stepped back flinching at every word as they shattered the walls around his heart, driving deeper than any knife ever could. She turned away again with one last harsh, "why do you care?"

It took him a moment to regain his ability to talk, and to fight down the urge to retreat behind his walls where he wouldn't let anyone touch him. His heart won and he stepped forward again stumbling over his words like a child. "I don't know you," a deep breath: she hadn't struck out again, yet. "I don't know you, but I've seen enough," another breath. He was open and bare to any attack she gave. "I care what happens to you." He finished in a whisper that reached only her ears but would have shattered a steal wall to do it.

The silence stretched on forever, roaring in his ears like the waves at the cliff during a storm. Heart beasts slammed against the walls of the room like a sledgehammer. Time stretched on and on.

Then she was in his arms again, tears wetting his chest.

"Hey come here," one man called to another as he glanced down through the floor. "We've actually got some action."

A second man joined the first, "yeah right, you know he wouldn't do anything."

"No, she's the one doing it."

The second man looked down through the floor. "Looks like she has more drive than he does. You think he's straight?"

A laugh on both sides.

"I doubt it. Any real man would have taken her and dumped her."

"I think he doesn't know a good thing when he sees one."