Author's Note: Thanks for your continued support! FYI - in my mind I have cast the amazing Rick Hearst as Nathan Collins.

Part Three

She wants to stay right where she is.

Sure, the tiny bathroom is far from ideal but it does give her some sense of security. There is a locked door between her and her captor after all. But she knows that it is hardly a solid one and all she will truly achieve by staying here is prolonging the conversation he wants to have.

He raps his knuckles again; this time sharply - an unspoken warning that he won't ask again.

Sarah pulls herself to her feet, fingers tightly clutching the edge of the sink. She takes a good look at herself in the mirror. Her face is pinched and her hair is askew. She can't help but reach up to touch the curls where she had pinned her veil a few hours before. She wonders what happened to it but never lets her mind go fully down that path. She needs to focus on the present. She has no idea what is going to happen when she opens that door but she needs to be ready for anything he throws at her.

Turns out the first thing is a charming smile.

The sight of it irks her. Sarah's mouth turns downward, refusing to mirror his gesture. She is used to men who try and use their charms to battle her defenses - she is in love with Xander after all (the thought of him causes her stomach to twist; she wonders what he is thinking right now and hopes that he knows she didn't just leave).

"Feeling better?"

Sarah keeps her lips pressed together in a thin line. She is not going to alleviate any guilt he might be feeling (however little it may be). She waits until he moves away from the door a respectable distance and then finally steps out of the bathroom. She still finds the lights too bright and wonders if she can walk without stumbling but at least her lunch won't find its way to his shoes.

"I have ginger ale. It may help settle your stomach," he tells her.

"Or it may put me out again," she quips, hardly able to stop herself. She is not going to take anything from him.

She can't quite pinpoint the emotions that run across his face. He looks amused at her slip of the tongue but there is something else behind it. Something that reminds her not to push too far. She doesn't have the upper hand (yet; there is no way that Sarah is going to be a passive participant in her own kidnapping).

He bows his head slightly, as if to acknowledge his wrong doing. "In my defense, I knew you wouldn't come willingly. Extreme measures needed to be taken. But from here on out, I don't intend to bring you any harm." For a moment, he looks like the kind of man you want to meet in a bar: charming, sophisticated, handsome. But then something shifts again. "Unless I have to."

There is no comfort in that.

Sarah moves into the main cabin of the plane again, following him until she feels like she is getting too close. She would like very much to maintain a respectable distance between them, never putting herself in arms length if she can help it. There is something about him that reminds her of a coiled snake - get too close and it will lash out.

She lets her gaze roam beyond him to the details of her surroundings. Like his suit, she knows luxury when she sees it. She has a feeling that this is the kind of plane that doesn't need a detailed flight plan. She wishes that she had worn a watch to know just how much time had passed since she stood in the kitchen of Kiriakis mansion (the last clear thing she remembers) but what bride wears a watch? She does see her shoes lying haphazardly on the floor and for the first time realizes she is barefoot. She lets her head fall to see her toes peeking out from the hem of her dress and nearly dissolves into laughter.

(it's way too early to lose your mind, Sarah)

He looks back at her and if he sees how close she is to losing her cool he does not comment on it. Instead he sinks back down into his seat and nods his head to the sofa she had been curled up on. She wants to defy him but she thinks better of it. Close quarters are no place to pick a fight - when this plane lands however? That's a whole new ballgame. So for now she sits.

"You must have many questions," he begins.

She gets the urge to sit on her hands to keep from throwing them in the air. Of course she does. She wants to know why she has been taken from her home, from the people she loves, from the man she is supposed to marry. "I do. But I guess my first question is: just how many of them are you prepared to answer?" She doesn't bother to add truthfully to the sentence because she already knows she will not believe any words that come from his mouth.

He smiles again, this time it appears more warm. A genuine attempt at affection. She leans back on the sofa. There is something infinitely more unnerving about him when he smiles. "That is fair," he says with a nod. "I appreciate your skepticism. I heard you are an intelligent woman."

The implication of his words is there in black and white. He has been learning about her. Maybe even watching her. The thought makes her skin crawl and it is all she can do not to show her disgust. As it is, she wraps her arms around her waist once more, an unconscious move designed to give herself some measure of comfort.

"We should start with the basics. My name is Nathan Collins. That name probably will not register as familiar with you…" He takes a moment and Sarah can feel him searching her face for any sign of recognition. She has none to give him. "I thought not. I am sure that Xander has tucked me away neatly in a file somewhere, hoping that no one would ever come across it."

At the mention of Xander's name, Sarah's skin goes cold. She shivers just a little, a burgeoning awareness that this might be far more complex than she ever imagined. She knows that Xander has a past and it is one that she will never know all the details of (she can't; he is not the same person and dredging up all his sins will do more harm than good). However, despite her willingness not to go digging into his misdeeds, one is here and has taken control of her life for the time being. She takes a deep breath, bracing herself for what he will say next.

"Xander is smart enough to keep me a dirty little secret. It tarnishes the shine that he is trying to go for…"

Sarah can't help but seethe at that. "Xander is a good person. He has made mistakes, some of them terrible but people change…"

"Oh, I agree. I am proof of that. See, I was a good person but then I met Xander Cook." Nathan Collins leans forward and she has nowhere else to go, her back is already pressed against the sofa. "He took something from me. Well, many somethings if I am being accurate. I am finally getting around to returning the favor."

Despite her desperate need to hold onto as much control as she can, Sarah can't help but look terrified at his words.

X

Xander's hand swipes out, fumbling to close his fingers around the neck of the bottle that has been his companion most of the night. Instead of picking it up, he only succeeds in knocking it to its side. Any remaining liquid spills out and is soaked up by the ground. He grunts in frustration, attempting to push himself to his feet.

"Well, look at you - polluted in my garden," a gruff voice chides.

Xander closes his eyes, not wanting to see Victor just yet. In the end, he is only delaying the inevitable so he takes a deep breath and tips his head to look up at his uncle. Victor is standing in the aftermath of the wedding, leaning heavily on a cane. Although there is a tiredness around his eyes, Xander knows that Victor's mind is working just fine. He has to step carefully here. "I am not drunk, I am hungover," he counters, already off to a wonderful start. "There is a difference."

Victor's mouth tightens. "Were you drunk when you destroyed my backyard last night?"

Xander leans slightly to take in his handiwork. It looks as if a hurricane has picked up and tossed any proof that he was supposed to get married. " - no," he says, his voice bitter. "I did that stone cold sober. The bottle was to celebrate a job well done." He finally pulls himself to his feet, noting that he is wobbly. He needs a shower. No, he needs to get the rest of this damn suit off first. He is half tempted to pull himself free of it right then and there but he knows he is already on Victor's bad side.

"I suppose, given the circumstance, that you can be forgiven for indulging in wanton destruction."

Xander's eyes widen. He is not used to any ounce of kindness from his uncle. He would like very much to savor the small crumbs he has been given but Victor is far too quick for that.

"What on earth did you do to ruin the best thing you had going?"

There it is; the Victor he is used to. Xander's face darkens. "Of course this is my fault."

"Of course," Victor agrees even though Xander had been sarcastic in his words. "You don't deserve Sarah - not after everything you have done. So, what did you do now? You are better off telling me in case damage control is needed with Titan."

Xander currently cares less about the family business. His insides twist together as Victor's words settle over him. It is easy to agree with them. He doesn't deserve Sarah. He never has but she loves him anyway. Or at least, he thought she did. Now, he is standing in the remnants of his wedding wondering where it all went wrong. There is only one thing he did know. "I didn't do anything, Uncle. Not this time."

Victor doesn't look at all satisfied with the answer. He shifts his weight, the cane digging into the soft grass. "I spent the night trying to calm Maggie's nerves. She hasn't heard from Sarah and of course, she is worried. I can only hope that Sarah needs a day to clear her head before she gets in touch with her mother."

"Maggie hasn't heard from Sarah?" Something pools in Xander's stomach.

"That's what I said, didn't I?" Victor huffs. It is clear now that he is a man who has had little sleep and is hoping for a resolution sooner rather than later. Xander remains quiet. Sarah might not want to talk to him but he had hoped that she would at least reach out to her mother. Victor surveys his gardens. "I'll get someone to clean this up. If you hear from Sarah, try not to scare her off again. I don't like seeing Maggie this upset."

Xander nods his head and watches his uncle retreat to the house. When he is alone again, he lets that feeling building in him spread. He is not sure what to call it just yet but he knows he does not like it. A hand comes up to run through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He moves away from the gardens, following a path that he himself had once been forced to cut away. It winds it way further from the house and into the depths of the Kiriakis grounds. He isn't really thinking of where he is going; his mind is desperately working on something. It is only when he hears a crunch under his shoe that he stops short and looks down.

It takes a moment for him to realize what he is seeing.

He leans down to pick up the delicate white netting, noting that he has crushed the silk flowers and beading with his careless steps. He traces a hand over the veil, picturing it Sarah's head as she walks toward him at the altar.

As it should have been.

After a moment of feeling sorry for himself, Xander furrows his brows. His gaze sweeps the area looking for any other signs that she has been there. When he comes up empty handed, he looks back to the veil. It would be easy to say that she had carelessly tossed it in her desire to escape from him. But his overactive brain is not happy with the answer.

There is something terribly wrong here - and finally he recognizes that feeling spreading through him.

It's fear.