Mac3-Thanks, and you're right. I don't know how they say he's ugly.

KittyDoggyLover- Thanks. I try and update fast, because I know you are all so eager to read. (I feel loved!)

NadezhdaSt- Don't worry, you won't have to wait long to find out. I drink coffee, and I discovered that at my last trip to McDonalds. I'm not sure if I got it exactly right, but pretty much all their coffee is like that. My friends aren't W/J shippers. In fact, they don't watch CJ at all! Maybe that's why, because they don't know how cool he is. I don't care ifthey say he's ugly, because I know he's not. He's too awesome to be ugly. Lol.

I realized something while looking at my stats: my chapters are getting longer! Lol. Oh well, I bet that makes you all happy. I truly appreciate the reviews, keep doing it. You learn a lot in this chapter, but I won't say any more. We still have a long way to go in this story! (I bet that makes you all even happier! Lol.)

The Basement

Chapter 4: Without a Clue

- Nigel -

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" I jumped and turned to see Dr. Macy standing in the doorway. I flushed; he had caught me staring into space again. I had been thinking about my time with Jordan, reliving it within my head.

"Uh," I began, with no idea what I should say, but Garret held up a hand.

"It's okay," he said. "How's Jordan?"

"Alright I think. She went to go see Max."

"What happened yesterday?"

I thought for a moment before I said, "She wouldn't tell me directly, but it sounds like she had a fight with Woody."

"Ah," said Dr. Macy. "That explains a lot." He let out a long, low sigh. "Well, here we go again I suppose."

"Yeah. It appears that he said something really awful. Don't know what though."

"She didn't tell you?" I shook my head.

"I found her sobbing in her office. Said he'd 'gone too far' or something like that."

"Jordan sobbing?" asked Garret, alarmed. I nodded again. We just stood there for another moment, both of us thinking. Jordan was one of the strongest people I knew. She could stare down the barrel of a gun without fear, track criminals on her own without a second thought, and risk her life to help those around her without hesitation. To see someone like that simply break down was more than just unsettling, it was downright scary. Garret looked back at me.

"I should talk to her," he said. I nodded and picked up the phone, dialing Jordan's cell number. It rang several times before I got her voice mail.

"That's odd," I said aloud. Garret gave me a questioning look. I put down the phone again and said, "She's not answering her cell."

"Call Max," he suggested. I picked the phone back up and dialed Jordan's father.

"Max Cavanaugh."

"Hey Max, it's Nigel."

"I couldn't tell," he answered sarcastically.

"Can I talk to Jordan?" I asked, ignoring his comment

"Jordan?" He sounded puzzled, and my heart fell sickeningly. "I haven't seen her. Why are you asking me?"

I tried to keep my voice calm as I said, "She said that she was going to visit you. She left nearly two hours ago." Now there was a worried look on Garret's face and a worried tone in Max's voice as he said, "She's not here. Never was." There was a pause. "Is she alright?"

"I don't know Max. I hope so." I hung up the phone and said, "She never turned up, Garret." He walked away quickly and looked out the nearest window.

"Her car's not in the parking lot," he said. "Was it in her normal spot?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Right where she always parks." Neither of us could think of a good reason for why Jordan wouldn't go to Max's house when she said she would. At least, we couldn't think of a reason that we wanted to hear. I couldn't stop thinking that Jordan had been kidnapped, and it wouldn't be the first time. Just for something to do, I picked up the phone again and redialed Jordan's cell phone, hoping half heartedly that she would pick up. She didn't.

"She'll be okay Nigel," said Garret as I put the phone back down. I nodded, sincerely hoping that he was right.

- Jordan -

"Revenge?"

"Of course," he said. "You of all people should realize why. Don't you remember me Dr. Cavanaugh?" I did.

A month and a half ago, bodies started coming in. All of them had been identified as active members in a downtown gang, and all of them had been shot to death. I also suspected that they were all victims of gang rivalries, and eventually linked all of the murders, as well as a large drug ring, to one man. He was the leader of the rival gang in question, and responsible for the deaths. Yet it had taken considerable digging and snooping on my part before I was able to get any proof. And when I did, he went into hiding. This man was Alexander Mitchell, and he was standing right in front of me.

Woody had offered me protection, offered to assign me policemen to keep me safe until Mitchell was caught. I refused however. I didn't want to be surrounded by bodyguards for days, weeks, or possibly months until he was taken in, especially when I believed that Mitchell knew nothing of my existence. I realized now that I had been gravely mistaken.

"Yes," said Mitchell, "I see you do recognize me. You should, as you are the one responsible for throwing me into hiding!"

"So you're going to kill me?" I asked, still doing my utmost to keep cool. Mitchell smiled.

"Eventually," he said.

My mind instantly began racing, thinking. If he was planning to kill me anyways, did it matter if he had a gun? If I tried to escape and he was forced to shoot me, well, I was going to die anyways wasn't I? It may even be less painful that way; by the sounds of it Mitchell had some sort of excruciating torture planned. Whereas if I attempted escape, there was at least a small chance of survival.

As if he had read my mind, Mitchell said, "Oh, and don't think that my gun doesn't matter anymore, because your life is not the only one at stake. I have a hostage."

"What?" I asked, alarmed.

"A hostage, Cavanaugh. You must be slower than I thought. She is tied up in my room, and should you try anything, she will die." He smiled again, and it unnerved me. "I trust you will enjoy your limited stay," he said, with special emphasis on the last two words. And with that he turned and made his way back up the stairs and out of the basement, closing and locking the door behind him. I sat down blindly; without the light from the open door, the basement was pitch black.

My plan had been ruined. I had no way to know whether or not he was telling the truth, but if he really had a hostage, I couldn't risk her life, whoever she was, for mine. I would simply have to wait and hope that someone would be able to find me before Mitchell carried out his murder. I felt total helplessness, something that I had felt only twice before and had hope to never feel again.

I was also shivering; it was freezing down here. I regained my feet in the dark and felt my way into a corner of the room, where I lay down, curling into a ball on the cold stone floor. I lay there for hours in the dark, shivering and thinking about everything. Whether or not my friends would find me in time, the sort of painful murder Mitchell could be planning, how the ones I knew would handle it if my body was found, who would do the autopsy, and Nigel. I would have given anything to be back at McDonalds with him now. I didn't know why, or even if I was imagining it, but we it seemed grew closer in those hours spent together.

"I'll always be there for you." That is what he had said. I bitterly wished that he was here for me now, and had a strange feeling that he wished the same, (they must have realized that I was gone by now), and an unexpected emotion came over me as I thought of him. It was a mixture of sadness, longing, and…love.

I was shocked as the word penetrated my thoughts, and yet it seemed to fit so well. Love, and not just the sister-brother sort of way that Nigel and I had shared for so long. No, when I was truly honest with myself, I knew I was in love with him. I was also very confused. Never, not even once had I thought about even the remote possibility of me and Nigel as a pair.

But has he?

Another odd thought that had unexpectedly surfaced itself. My immediate thought was no, of course not. Nigel was a friend, nothing more. And then something occurred to me that had never occurred before. I stopped as I realized how stupid I had been.

At the morgue, Nigel was always the one to do me favors; run tests, hack into databases, etc. Every day I would go to work, and every day I would ask him to do things for me. Every time, no matter how much other work was piled on his desk, he would do what I asked. And I'd wondered before how he managed to get his work done when he spent so much of his time on me. I had also wondered why, why did he do it for me? I knew that he didn't do it for everyone else. It wasn't until now that I made the connection.

I suddenly realized how much I had taken advantage of him. All he ever did for me was favors and all I ever gave him in return was a, "Thanks Nige," or, "You're the best Nigel." Never did I do anything for him, and yet he continued to give. If something was wrong, he was always there. If I had trouble with Woody, which was a frequent occurrence, he would listen to my complaints, supporting and comforting me, and even giving me advice. I realized how hard it must have been for him, watching from the sidelines when he would probably have given anything to be in Woody's shoes.

Then a sudden and horrible thought struck me: I could never tell him. I was here, trapped, waiting for death, never to see Nigel again. As this unbearable idea sunk in, I began to cry. For the first time during one of the many kidnappings I had experienced, I cried. I had never feared what I would find after death, only what I would miss. Nigel had probably loved me for years, possibly since the day we first met. Now he never would know my feelings for him. He would live on, thinking that he had failed, forever regretting that he had not told me; thinking that I had died without a clue.

My face grew colder as the tears rolled over my cheeks and onto the floor, until eventually, I fell asleep.

No, the kidnapper is not Woody. I said he'd be a jerk, but not that much of a jerk. It would make an interesting fic though. Anyways, review please!