A/N Okay I definitely owe you guys an apology for not updating sooner. Well, maybe it's my muse that owes you, but I will apologize on her behalf. I also want to apologize because I just re-read the last chapter and it was horrible with the tenses. I may give up and switch permanently to past tense but I will give it one more shot on Lindsey's behalf.

Talking about Lindsey's behalf, I am going to do a split chapter about what is going on back home, and what is going on in her head. Re-reading my last chapter I almost want to go back and add more details just for the shock value, but instead I will keep the rating the same and let you guys fill in the pure horror that she is trying to conceal (even from herself!)

And with this chapter now thoroughly spoiled, I shall commence.

Lindsey's POV

The engine is shutting off and I my ears start to pop painfully. I squint, the light shinning in my eyes as finally, the bathroom door slides open. This time I don't think rationally when taking on my opponent. Gun or no gun, manpower or no manpower I am getting OUT OF HERE. I leap with the same primal urge that the Kiss Me Not attacked me with. I think, somewhere in the back of my mind I know that this will only result in more pain, but I do it anyways. He goes to grab me and I avoid his balled fists. Nimble, I duck underneath him only to be met by a blow from the second suited man. My eyes go black and a rush of oxygen leaves my lungs. I can see Ashe perched on the same chair that he started in. Watching. Silent. This is starting to become a habit of his.

My vision clears and the ringing on my ears starts to fade. Surprisingly no one makes a move to grab me and I am caught in a starring match between my captor and myself. his eyes bearing into my skull makes my bruises pulse and my knees weaken, but I refuse to show him that. Instead I pull for one last leap of bravery, after all what else can a girl do in a situation like this?

"Why"

"don't"

"we"

"chat"

The words are drawn out and slightly slurred. I'm not sure if this is from the blow to the head I just received or the pure horror that comes to mind as I say them. He gives me a grin that spreads ear to ear and whether I want to chat or not he does. I'd like to think that this will postpone the inevitable and maybe, just maybe they may be able to find me.

"lets get comfortable first." His words disgust me and I have no clue what he means, but the airplane door is being lowered behind me and without restraints I am shepherded from the plane. This would be the ideal time to run, but I am already smarting from my previous blows and am now well aware that it would be pointless. Instead I follow Ashe, flanked by his men, into a limo.

Think, while I'm captive I get to travel in style. Yay.

Claire's POV

"Lindsey is out there Tom; we are going to find her." I am trying to reassure him but it's pretty obvious that we have little hope of finding her without the FBI's help. We are both itching to get out of Tom's stuffy office and try to find whatever evidence possible but a higher command has made us stay put. Everyone is panicked because of this and the words "everything will be fine" and "she will be alright" have been repeated continuously throughout the day to everyone whose lives have been touched by Lindsey Boxer. And for the record, that's a whole lotta lives.

Tom gets up and paces and to be honest even I'm having trouble keeping it together. Poor Cindy is just a blubbering mess and Jill has thrown herself into her work and hasn't said a word to any of us. I'm not sure if she is blaming herself, since she was the last one to see her, or whether she is trying to hold it together like the rest of us by keeping herself distracted. The pressure is on me to keep it together and it's a job I take willingly. I can cry later, but right now we all need to keep a good head on our shoulders to find Lindsey.

"Tom, TOM!" He is lost in a world of his own and I snap him back out of it. I'm thinking that while stuck here, the least we can do is brainstorm. I tell Tom this and he agrees, so we call our respective partners (meaning Cindy, Jill and Jacobi) and call an official "find Lindsey" meeting.

"What do we know?" Jill, who has barely said a word since Lindsey didn't show up for work this morning, drops a folder unceremoniously on the table. It lands with a thunk that scatters the loose papers sitting on Tom's desk.

"We know who, we know when, we know what, so why the fuck don't we know where??" Jill has obviously been suppressing anger and I can practically feel the venom flowing through her words. I place my hand gently on her shoulder and keep it there in a reassuring matter.

"Ashe is educated; he has access to places most people don't. Private planes, cars and any type of transportation offered by the FBI have been shut down, which leaves him public transit." Cindy pipes up in her usual chirpy fashion, but we can all hear the waiver in her voice

"In less she's already left the area. Or maybe he is right under our noses." The words hang over us like dead air. How are we going to narrow it down? God I wish I knew…

Lindsey's POV.

I soon discover that his version of comfort is in fact an old Victorian living room equipped with a fire place and wooden coffee table. I am tied again, which he tells me is just so that we can talk without distractions. The place looks like its right out of a movie and because I was forced to keep my head down in the limo I actually have no clue where I am. My only comfort it seems is that he really does want to talk. Might as well get chatty then….

"why me?"

"Why not you Lindsey, you're gorgeous. Skin silky smooth, hair that smells like vanilla… you know I'm really glad I got to know you better. But I do say you put up a fuss" My stomach drops and I fight the urge to throw up. The event was thrown into the back of my head but he seems to be determined not to let me forget. If I had all my wits I probably would have recognized that this was just stupid mind games, but I'm not exactly crystal clear right now.

"Are you going to kill me?" the question seems simple enough, I have a right to know these things.

"yes, maybe, but first I need you to answer me a few questions…"

"like what?" I spit back, fully prepared to fight back, at least verbally. He stands up and walks to the fire. He probes it with the poker, sending light flickering upwards. The fire dances and I'm wondering if he is lost in a day dream. He asks his question quietly, calmly, still turned towards the fire.

"Did you like being with me?" the question is sick, so perverted that I have trouble wrapping my mind around it. But his voice sounds so innocent, so genuinely curious. It takes all I have to bite my tongue and not scream at him. Instead I use the same calm voice he has, hoping to keep him in his trance-like state by the fire a little longer.

"No" the word is simple but firm. I don't want to anger him but I sure as hell can't say yes. And the way he asked sounded so pure and honest that I'm wondering if he just wants someone to enjoy being with him. Maybe he's just one of those lost kids looking for love.

I have to tell you, I'm usually spot on when it comes to phsyc evaluations like this, but when he turns towards me, his eyes blazing with the same flame as the fire, I know that his innocence, his genuineness is just a façade. He spins, hot poker still in hand, hot poker touching my skin.

I scream louder then I ever have. My voice is raw but still I keep screaming. The sizzle of burning flesh fills my ears and keeps ringing long after he pulls the poker away. The whole room, within seconds, smells like burnt flesh and even though the poker is gone I am still screaming. The screaming is reduced to sobs, which is reduced to a single tear flowing softly off my face. He wipes it away affectionately and I turn to move out of his grasp. He slaps me then replaces the burning medal to a new piece of flesh. I am learning this game fast.

This time he lifts my shirt, pressing the poker to the soft flesh on my abdomen. My screams turn silent and all I can do is grip the chair for dear life. I'm pretty sure this is how I passed out, but everything gets a little blurry when he repeats his question- and I stupidly answer no.

It is when I awake that he asks me a third time if I enjoyed being with him. This time I answer yes, and I know that I am defeated.