A/N Here you go a kind of short update, I hope you like it, and please, pretty please review, ok? it motivates me to write faster, you know?

The Award Chapter 7

The two black vans stopped at last after what seemed and eternity, the back doors opened letting day light fill the space inside.

Tim and Abby ached all over, muscles strained from the position they were in, still handcuffed to the seats.

The man called Greg entered the van and undid Abby's restrains shoving her roughly towards the driver, Raul.

"Here get this one!" he said with a smirk.

Abby screamed, as Raul twisted both her arms behind her back and pushed her towards an old shack nearby.

"Leave her alone!" Tim yelled pulling at his handcuffs with all his might, his wrists started bleeding with each yank, but he didn't seem to notice.

Greg laughed at his efforts before getting him out, too.

Tim struggled, trying to get free, but another set of arms grabbed him from behind, placing a knife against his throat, once again.

"Stop squirming!" Pierre growled making Tim freeze.

Patricia stood watching, amused, next to Marcus who had the wooden box clutched tight between his arms.

"Bring him in boys, and get the vans to the lockup." She ordered calmly, then she turned around and started walking towards the shack; both goons followed her dragging Tim along with them.



The old shack, was just a disguise for a bunker of some kind, the door opened into an ordinary all-in-one room, with a bed, a couch, a kitchenette, fireplace and a dinning room set for four; in the center of the room, however, there was a trap door which was opened.

Tim could see a metal staircase going down into a long corridor; he could hear Abby's protests getting louder as he climbed down. He smiled to himself; Abby was feisty even when she was scared.

Without ceremony, he was shoved into an empty room; the walls were covered in metal, maybe to mask noise, which, he thought, was useless. There was not a living soul in miles.

Tim crashed against the cold cement floor, hitting his shoulder in the process; he couldn't help but yell in pain.

"Timmy! Oh God!"

Abby was at his side in an instant; he hadn't realize she was in the room, too, but he felt relieved that she was okay.

With the Goth's help he sat against the wall, his wrists hurt like hell and they were still bleeding, closing his eyes he tried to regain his breath.

Abby had tears glistening in her eyes, but she kept herself in control. Timmy was injured and they still didn't know what that evil woman wanted with him.

She had nothing to clean his wounds with and his wrists looked bad, so she used the only thing at hand.

Tearing a strip of material from her pajama pants, she started dressing his injured hands.

Tim opened his eyes.



"Abs, I am sorry for getting you in this mess" he muttered.

"What are you talking about Timothy? I am the one that came looking for you, remember?" Abby said softly.

"But…"

"I am glad I am here with you, at least I know where you are and you are not alone with that psycho-lady." She added smiling. "I would be going insane with worry if you had just vanished from the hotel, Timmy."

He smiled, kissing her forehead; Abby just placed her arms around his neck and hugged him softly.

"Listen, whatever Patricia wants must be something illegal. We will do as she says and find a way to undo it at the same time." Tim whispered into Abby's ear. They couldn't know if they were being monitored, but he was almost sure they were.

"Okay Timmy. We do know it has to be computer stuff. After all, she chose you." She whispered back.

"I know, but she now has two for the price of one." Tim said pulling away from her, so she could meet his eyes, "I am worried, Abs. I don't like the way she looks at you."

"Let's not think about that, Timmy," she ended, resting her head on his chest.

Tim sighted, Abby was right there was nothing they could do for the time being, just wait to see what Patricia Harland had in store for them.