A/N: Thanks to Felicia for pointing me in the right direction regarding Frankie & John's background. I've twisted it to suit my own nefarious purposes ::evil grin:: If what I have doesn't match the official version, please just bear in mind that most of the story was plotted in detail before I found out. Or, you know, just put it down to artistic license :o)

And thanks for the awesome feedback. I had no idea so many people were interested in TM fic.

chapter two: business as usual

Frankie woke up shivering. It was too dark to make out where she was. She coughed, then winced as her chest burned. Her head hurt too. She reached up and gingerly touched her forehead. She could feel the dry blood caked down the side of her face.

Fantastic, she thought. She was sick, injured and a prisoner.

And she was naked, she realized in horror.

She coughed again, then curled up in an attempt to stay warm. Mentally, she ran through what little information she knew. The man had spoken Arabic. He had used chloroform, which meant this wasn't random. Frankie sighed; the list of people who had reason to hurt her was far too long.

Frankie wondered how long she'd been unconscious. In the morning, Kilmer would worry when she didn't arrive for work. He'd check her apartment and he'd look for her. She didn't doubt she would be found. She could last until then.

She had to.

"Where's Frankie?" Lark asked. The team was assembled in the Vault, waiting for the morning's briefing.

Kilmer shrugged. "At home, I suppose. I gave her a couple of days off."

"How noble of you," Tim said dryly.

Kilmer didn't respond. He was aware how badly he'd come across during the argument with Frankie yesterday. No one understood his real reason for being angry, and he wasn't about to admit it to everyone.

He knew exactly how long it took for Frankie to get to work. When she was late, he'd immediately assumed the worst. He'd imagined a car accident, Frankie being rushed to a hospital somewhere or, worse, trapped in the car, dying. When she'd walked in without so much as an apology, he'd gone from fear to anger.

He refused to think about why he'd had such a strong reaction. There was nothing between him and Frankie now. They were coworkers, that was all. If they tried, he supposed they could be friends, but they weren't there yet.

He also refused to think about why the Vault seemed so empty without her here.

Atkins arrived and Kilmer pushed thoughts of his ex-wife aside.

"Good morning," Atkins said. "Nothing exciting so far. There's a freighter drifting towards Florida that needs checking out. Coast guard's not getting a response and they're concerned it may have been abandoned."

"Tim, Mo, can you handle that?"

The men nodded, surprised. Kilmer liked to be involved. It was unlike him to sit back and let others take charge.

"Where's Frankie?" Atkins asked.

Kilmer scowled. "Sick." He stood and left the room, oblivious to the looks of amusement shared by his team.

Mary Price sat up slowly, wondering why her head was pounding. She swallowed the feeling of nausea and stood. Her bare foot touched something cold. Confused, Mary looked down and began to cry when she saw the empty whiskey bottle.

"Oh, no. No."

She sat down again, burying her face in her hands. She'd been doing so well. Why hadn't she got rid of the bottle ages ago? Worst of all, there was an AA meeting tonight. How could she attend after this? Her sponsor would be so disappointed in her.

Ray was right to leave her, she thought. She was a failure. She was useless.

Well, there was one thing she was good at. Mary went to her bedroom and took a bottle of vodka from her bottom drawer. Still crying, she opened it and raised it to her lips. She couldn't remember what had made her get drunk last night, but alcoholics never needed a reason.

Frankie knew what they were doing. She'd seen it done a thousand times before. Not once had she ever thought she would be in this situation. They were trying to weaken her. The darkness and the cold were supposed to disorient her. Taking her clothes was intended to make her feel powerless.

But she refused to let them break her. She was strong.

She had no idea how much time had passed since she was taken. For all she knew, it could have been hours or it could have been days.

Kilmer would find her. She believed that with every fiber of her being.

Kilmer. She regretted her coolness to him now. When he got her out of here, she'd apologize. He'd just been worried about her. She'd known he would be, and she'd let him. Maybe she'd wanted to see if he still cared.

She should have told him she'd be late. She was too old to be acting like a child.

He would be worried now, but there was nothing she could do about that.

She coughed again, then pressed a hand to her chest. If she came out of this without bronchitis or pneumonia, she'd be lucky.

Don't think about the pain. Think of something happy.

Kilmer.

She'd had flu the first year they were married. He'd driven around in the middle of the night to find an open pharmacy. He'd made chicken soup for her and held her when she'd had a coughing fit.

Frankie closed her eyes and imagined Kilmer's arms around her now.

Kilmer drummed his fingers on the desk, staring at the phone. He didn't realize Holly was standing in front of him until she banged on the desk. He looked up. "What?"

Call her, Holly signed.

Kilmer shook his head.

Why not?

"The last thing she wants is a phone call from me."

Maybe she's also staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring. Holly put her hands on her hips and tilted her head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

She shrugged. If you're not going to call, at least stop sulking.

Kilmer picked up a piece of paper, looking at it without reading. Holly banged her palm on the desk again.

It's upside down. She smiled sweetly before returning to her workstation.

Kilmer let the paper fall to his desk and resumed staring at the phone. Half an hour later, Lark sat in front of him.

"So much for no excitement today."

"What happened?" At last, he thought, something constructive to do.

"This freighter Mo and Tim went to check out? Turns out it's been drifting for weeks. The entire crew is dead – unknown pathogen. The cargo is a bunch of African trinkets. Jelani's tracing it right now."

"And Mo and Tim?"

"The CDC's got them quarantined."

Kilmer stood. "Okay."

"Hold your horses. Atkins says it's not our problem anymore. The CDC's in charge until they figure out what killed all the people."

"But—"

Lark smiled, the picture of innocence. "Hey, how's Frankie? Holly said you were going to call her."

Kilmer glared at her. "I'm going to see what Jelani's got."

Frankie had never liked the dark. In her experience, bad things happened in the dark. As a child, she'd lain awake and listened to her parents fight. The car accident that had taken them away from her had happened at night. Her aunt's husband – she could never think of him as her uncle – had "visited" her when everyone else was asleep, telling her he loved her and asking her not to cry.

Blinking back tears, Frankie tried to forget. Tried to think of good things about the dark. She remembered all-night conversations with Kilmer, their honeymoon . . .

Why did everything always come back to Kilmer? She'd thought she was over him.

Obviously not. It looked like thinking of him was the only thing that would keep her sane though, and she was okay with that.

But they were going to have to talk when she got out of here.

Hassan got up and walked to the cellar door, pressing his ear against the wood. He turned to Fasil.

"She still has not spoken."

Fasil shrugged dismissively. "She will."

"She is stronger than I thought. Stronger than most women."

"Because she acts like a man. She has a man's job, she lives alone, she dresses like a man." Fasil gestured to the clothes they'd taken off her: a button-up blouse and pants. Women were supposed to be modest.

Hassan continued to listen at the door. "She sounds sick."

"Allah has cursed her. He wants her to suffer."

Hassan nodded. Fasil was right. The woman had dishonored Allah; of course she must suffer. She was to be made an example of. America must know that Allah would not tolerate disobedience. "When will you speak to her?"

Fasil smiled. "Tomorrow."

"It is freezing down there. Will she survive the night?"

"If Allah wills it."

Hassan was not completely callous. Later, when Fasil went to relieve himself, he took a blanket down for the woman.