Chapter 5 - In Sickness and In Health

"Steve!" Ellen cried out desperately as she got up from her fallen position and reached out somewhat aimlessly in the dark.

A low moan was her only reply, so, with fumbling fingers, she cautiously felt the body on the floor beside her. She could tell that he was lying on his stomach, and beginning at his shoulder, she followed his right arm down to his wrists and wasn't surprised to discover that they were tied together behind his back. While she was investigating, she asked, "Honey, are you all right?"

There was no reply, and all she could hear was his somewhat raspy breathing. "I guess the answer is no', huh?" she said out loud, answering for him, while carefully feeling the ropes that held his hands. "I'm gonna try to untie these, just hold still." Ellen knew right away that since he was obviously unresponsive to her, he wouldn't be moving, but she didn't like the silence and filled it with her own voice. "Let's see. Here's the end of one of the ropes, let me just follow it up, andI think it goes through hereno, that doesn't seem to be workingmaybe here it's hard to tell in the darkI could be making this all worse than it already is and oh, I think it's coming loose!"

Continuing to feel her way, she pulled the rope's end through a loop and then proceeded to untangle the knot as best she could without really seeing it, finally working it loose enough to free her husband's arms. "There, you can move your hands now," she proudly informed him.

The room was silent except for the slight sound of the natural movement of Steve's arms falling away from each other, and it frustrated her. "Steve, Honey, talk to me." She got close to what she hoped was his face and, once again, was reminded of his uneven breathing, and it worried her.

She didn't know whether he had any broken bones and tried to remember what she had been told in a first aid class she'd taken years ago when she was writing a story about paramedics. After considering it for a few minutes, she decided to roll Steve over on to his back to what she was sure would be a more comfortable position. After all, who would want their face smack up against a cold, concrete floor?

She moved his right arm from his back to the side of his body and did the same with his left one. Then, very deliberately and with loving care, she rotated him to his back and sat away a small distance.

Since their captors had unceremoniously thrown Steve in with her and left, there was absolutely no light coming under the door. She figured that it must still be nighttime, and she contemplated what to do next as she stared into the blackness where she knew her husband lay.

----------

For the second time in the past twenty-four hours, Mark watched as a forensics team examined his son's home.

Captain Woodruff had arrived on the scene, angrier than he had been the night before, barking orders out of pure frustration. Cheryl, who was now the lead investigator of the case, tried her best to avoid her explosive superior, although she admitted that she could totally understand his feelings. What bothered her most was the blood on the carpet, which had immediately been identified as Steve's type. There wasn't a lot of it, but the fact that there was even a small amount caused her to worry.

"Sergeant Banks," the red-faced captain called to her.

"Yes, Sir," she immediately replied, reporting to his location.

"I want Sloan and his wife found! This case gets top priority, use whatever resources you need. Is that understood?!" He was bellowing his commands.

"Yes, Sir."

"And keep me informed every hour on your progress."

She knew that she was repeating herself, but, for a third time, she said, "Yes, Sir."

Captain Woodruff ran his hand through the little hair that was left on the top of his head and took a deep breath. He approached Mark, who was standing next to Jesse, both of them were observing the CSU personnel working on the floor, and said, "Dr. Sloan, don't worry. We'll find them."

Mark gave the man an obligatory smile and nodded. Inwardly, he felt helpless. None of what had happened made any sense. Ellen being taken from the police station, the conflicting stories from the FBI, and now Steve being snatched by force from his own home. If someone wanted them dead, why go to all this trouble? Why not just kill Steve? It wasn't that Mark liked the second option, with Steve being abducted there was still the hope that he was alive, but it just didn't make any sense. Whoever had them must want them alive, and Mark's mind replayed all of the happenings of the past two days trying to piece together the sparse clues.

Cheryl took a deep breath and looked at the two doctors, who she knew were as concerned about her partner as she was. Mark stared at the stained carpet, shook his head in despair and, as if he couldn't be near the offensive surroundings anymore, walked into the kitchen.

The detective needed to talk to Dr. Travis, so she was glad that he didn't follow the older man. This wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation because Cheryl was pretty sure that he wasn't going to like her questions. But she gathered her courage and approached the young doctor.

----------

As the day awoke on the outside of their prison, a small beam of light began to shine under the door. Ellen knew from when she arrived the day before that the room they were locked in was inside of a building. Although she hadn't been able to see because of the hood on her head, she was able to hear, and what she heard was a sliding door, something that reminded her of a garage door going up. Her captors had walked a short distance inside the building before depositing her in the tiny cell.

With the little light that now infiltrated the small room, Ellen examined Steve's wounds, feeling them when necessary, but trying not to harm him. She determined that they must be cuts surrounded by dried blood, mostly on the left side of his face.

As she came to his left hand, she took it in her own to hold it, and instantly knew that was a mistake when a cry of pain emanated from her companion.

----------

"Cheryl, you don't actually believe that I had anything to do with this, do you?" Jesse was totally shocked that she had even brought the subject up.

The detective remained as professional as she could. "It's standard procedure to investigate the background of victims in cases like this. You and Steve are business partners. So, I'll ask you again, what is the financial status of the restaurant that you co-own with Steve?"

Jesse knew that she was right, all avenues had to be explored, but he was hurt by her inquiries and took her questions personally. "The financial status of Bob's is good. Actually, we had an excellent month last month." Too late, he realized that might not have been the best answer to give.

Cheryl gave him a knowing look and said louder than necessary, "The success of your business could be a motive for someone to want to hurt Steve." The pressure of the two disappearances was getting to the detective, and she gave loose to her feelings.

Jesse considered her reply, and then realizing who that implicated said, "No! I would never do anything to hurt Steve or Ellen! They're my friends." He was shouting. The lack of sleep added to his deep concern, and it came out in his reply.

His loud response had drawn the attention of the other people in the room, who looked up from their work very interested in where the heated discussion might go. Mark, too, heard the argument and returned from the kitchen to see what was happening.

"I didn't accuse you of anything, Dr. Travis"

"Yes, you did!" Jesse interrupted, anger clearly showing on his face.

Mark stepped between them, immediately assessing the explosive situation. "This bickering isn't helping us find Steve or Ellen." He felt as if he were refereeing a fight. "I know that we are all upset right now, but, Cheryl, Jesse had nothing to do with this."

A smug smile filled Jesse's face, but Mark continued, "And, Jesse, Cheryl is only doing her job."

It was her turn to be self-satisfied. "I know that you are both tired and frustrated, so am I. But we're after the same thing here and that's to find my son and his wife." Mark's voice was strained with emotion, and both Cheryl and Jesse had been put in their place and were embarrassed by their behavior, inwardly wishing the incident had never happened, knowing that it probably had only served to add to Mark's anguish.

--------

"Oouw!" he gasped.

She immediately drew back. "Steve, Honey. You're awake?"

"Ellen," was all he could manage.

She moved her head close to where she thought his would be. "I'm right here."

It was too dark for her to see the small smile that appeared on his face. "You ok?" he asked in a weak voice.

"No! I'm not ok! I was kidnapped from the precinct, shoved into the backseat of the smallest car I have ever been in and then thrown into this dark room! How could I possibly be ok?" In her explanation, she couldn't help but use her hands, and, not being able to see clearly, she had inadvertently punched him.

The contact with his left shoulder had traveled down his arm and settled in his broken fingers eliciting another yelp of pain from him.

Realizing that she must have been the cause of his agony, she crept closer, and without realizing what she was doing, placed her knee on top of his left hand.

His cry of pain was not in any way a quiet one, and instantly his self-preservation instincts took over, causing him to reach out with his right hand and push her off him, causing her to roll backward and land on her bottom.

An "Argh" escaped her mouth as she hit the hard floor.

Steve wasn't sure that he could utter words just yet, but he knew that he'd acted incorrectly and needed to apologize, so he took in a deep breath, which he noted caused a great deal of pain to the ribs on his left side. "Ellen?"

Her reply didn't come immediately. "What?"

"I'm sorry I pushed you, but I think my hand is broken and you were kneeling on it, and"

Ellen reacted impulsively to offer sympathy and without thinking, she grabbed the wounded appendage, which once again produced a cry of pain from her husband. Realizing her mistake, she let go, and it dropped like a rock on to the hard concrete floor.

Steve grabbed his left forearm and cradled it against his chest. "I think I'll just pull this out of harm's way," he choked out between gritted teeth. He had learned early on in their relationship that she often acted impulsively, but it was one of those things that he had grown to accept and even come to love about her.

Ellen's feeling were hurt, and if Steve could have seen her face, he would have known that her pride had been wounded as well. She sat uncharacteristically quiet and pouted.

"Can you help me sit up?" her husband finally asked.

"Sure," she replied. Glad for something to do, she gently got behind him and supported him as he rolled up into a proper sitting position.

"There's a wall about three feet behind you. Why don't you scoot back and lean on it?"

"Ok. Good idea," he commented.

As she helped him maneuver, she mumbled quietly, "See, not all of my ideas are bad ones."

Steve couldn't help the small chuckle from escaping. "I never said they were."

Ellen didn't bother replying, her mind had already switched to another topic. "Steve, how did you get hurt?"

"Let's just say someone caught me by surprise."

She softened her tone to a much more caring one. "Can you tell me what hurts?"

He took a deep breath before replying. "My back is a little sore, and so is my side." He hesitated, making a mental tally of the aching spots on his body. "My left jaw hurts when I talk, I think they kicked me there."

"They kicked you in the face! Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry!" Ellen replied in such a way that Steve knew she was on the verge of either hysteria or rage, and, at the moment, he didn't want to deal with either one.

"Shh. It's ok. I guess they didn't want me to know what was going on."

After a few moments of silence, Ellen gathered the courage to ask, "What is going on? Why are we here?"

"I'm not sure." He was finding it a little easier to breathe now that he was sitting in an upright position. "Where are we anyway?"

"I think it's someplace east of LA, but I'm not exactly sure."

Steve stifled a chuckle thinking that almost anywhere was east of LA. Then a thought suddenly came to him. "I'm trying to figure out how these guys were able to kidnap you, you don't appear to have any trouble incapacitating people, how come you save it all for me?"

Remembering what had happened to her in the car, she replied, "Well, they tied my hands and feet together, gagged me, and covered up my head."

Steve almost laughed at the image, but managed to keep quiet. It was something that had actually crossed his mind when they had first met. He was glad for the darkness around him because he was sure his expression was giving him away. "Did they hurt you?"

"I just told you what they did! Of course, they hurt me!"

"Ok, Ellen. Calm down." He groaned with pain as, in the dark, he moved his left hand without thinking.

Ellen, suddenly realizing that Steve's injuries were more severe than her own and that she was being very selfish, felt badly. "Steve, you're hurt. What can I do to help?"

Steve loved his wife, and even though he couldn't clearly see her face in the almost nonexistent light, he knew that it was showing great concern. "My left hand hurts the worst. If I remember correctly, it had a little encounter with the heel of boot."

Ellen's heart was breaking. The person she loved more than anyone else in the world, and who loved her in return as much, was in pain and asking for help. Even though she wasn't prone to doing so, she thought she might cry, and after giving herself a minute to gain control of her emotions, she had an idea. "I have something I can wrap your hand with, at least I can cover it a little bit." She took off her cardigan, leaving only a sleeveless blouse to cover the top of her body. The long sleeved sweater had given her some protection from the cold concrete floor during the night, but she was glad to make the sacrifice, and she got to work.

Steve sat still as she carefully felt for his hand and, then, very gently shrouded it with the soft garment. He couldn't see what she was using as the dressing, but whatever it was, she wrapped it around again and again, leaving him with a thick protective cover.

"Does that help?" she kindly asked when she was done and had laid his hand to rest on his leg.

"Yeah, it does," he replied. "Come and sit next to me."

She moved up close to the wall on the right side of her husband, and he wrapped his arm around her. Neither of them knew where they were or why they were being held there, but, for the time being, they both ignored thinking about the potential dangers that might lie ahead and simply enjoyed the comfort and warmth of each other's presence.