cavanaugh-girl- yeah, it needed more than that. I still have a bit more after this though...hehe

Mac3- Thank you. We needed more Nigel. (Could always have more Nigel) It's fun to be evil to your favorite characters. Lol.

avi- Muahaha. Don't worry, I am. I just didn't want to make him completely evil.

Sorry again for the wait. I haven't had a lot of time for writing recently. In fact, I should be reading instead of posting this right now, I have a couple hundred pages due tomorrow! Oh well. Review please!

Back to the Basement

Chapter 8: Nowhere To Run

- Jordan –

I stood and walked carefully to the radio, flipping it to a familiar station and then heading into the kitchen, cane in hand, to make myself a cup of coffee. I hummed along with the music, smiling at the ease with which I worked. Then I heard the door open and footsteps in the other room.

That was fast…

"Hey Nige," I called, pulling my coffee from the microwave and adding sugar. He didn't answer, simply shut the door and began walking slowly in my direction. It was as I took my first sip that I got the sense that something wasn't right, and a second later I realized why. Because I had lost all sight my other senses had heightened, and I could tell just by listening that the one walking towards me was definitely not Nigel. Their steps weren't the same, though I had a pretty good idea of who it was.

I simply stood there, my back to the stranger, who had now entered the small kitchen, trying to look unaware of anything wrong as I continued to sip my coffee, though in truth I was thinking furiously. My cane was standing against the counter at my side. I didn't do anything yet, waiting for him to be in range, praying he wouldn't act before I could. I waited until he was just feet away before I grabbed and swung the cane behind me.

It worked, I heard him yell and something heavy hit the floor. I dove and picked up the gun as the intruder sprinted back into the main room. I stood and followed silently, gun pointing outward. Only one thing was going through my mind: where was Nigel? The intruder must've gotten in with a key, and the only way he could've gotten hold of one was to have taken Nigel's. Was he alright? What if the stranger shot him? I tried not to imagine the possibility as I strained to hear any sign of movement over the loud blaring of the radio.

"Gonna shoot me?" said a strange male voice from behind me. I spun and shot randomly in his general direction; if nothing someone might hear the blast. He laughed a cold cruel laugh from somewhere off to my left. "You missed." I spun again, but didn't shoot, wondering just how many bullets I could get from this gun. "You can't hurt me," he said tauntingly. "You're blind; you'll never hit me." I spun and shot again, He laughed a second time, moving near silently, circling me.

"Missed again," he said. I stopped trying to follow his movements and simply stood listening. He was somewhere behind me again. "I told you, you can't hit what you can't see." The radio continued to play ominously in the background.

"Where's Nigel?" I asked with as much authority as I could through my panic.

"The Brit with the long hair?" he asked, sounding amused.

"Where is he?" I asked again. "What did you do to him?"

"I don't believe that's really any of your concern right now," he replied. "Though I do believe I've had the pleasure of meeting him. Besides tonight that is."

"What?"

He laughed.

"A few months ago he came knocking on my door, looking for you as it were. I sent the man on his way, and then phoned up Alex."

"That was you?" I asked, shocked. Nigel had told us how Mitchell had somehow known of him beforehand.

"It was," he said in the same amused tone. "Of course I knew exactly where you were. I know where he took you Dr. Cavanaugh, and I know what he would have done to you. I know what he did to your friend." I was breathing heavily now, heart pounding loudly against my ribs. He was coming slowly nearer, closing in on me.

"Tell me," he said, "what was it like?"

"What?" I asked coldly.

"The basement of course," he answered. "What was it like to live in cold darkness, waiting to die?" As he said it, memories popped unwillingly into my head, as clear as photographs: Mitchell in my car, ordering me to drive at gunpoint; Mitchell forcing me into the basement and proclaiming his desire for revenge; the sound of Nigel crying in the dark, saying he was sorry; the feel of his warm embrace when he realized I was alive. How we never moved from our corner, holding each other for hours, wondering what our future held, and how Mitchell eventually revealed that we didn't have long to live. I saw Nigel standing on the small stool, rope tight around his neck, as we shared what we believed would be our last words, our last kiss. I failed to keep the tears at bay as I relived the moment, that terrible, desperate moment, when I realized that I had to kick the stool; that I had to kill him.

"It must be terrible," he continued "being blind. Living in darkness every day. Almost like living in the basement isn't it?" I shook my head, trying to clear it, to push him out. He laughed. "What's it like to know that you will never see light again?"

"Where's Nigel?" I asked yet again, though even to my own ears my voice sounded diminished, frightened.

"Your boyfriend's not here," he said menacingly. "You don't have him to lean on this time, to hold on to and hope he'll solve all your problems. You're alone in the dark with nowhere to run." He was really close now and still drawing nearer. I could hear his ragged breathing only feet behind me.

I turned and fired a final shot. He yelled and I heard him fall to the ground with a thump. I backed away quickly, breathing fast, shaking. Then I snatched up my cane from the kitchen and made my way out of the apartment. I had to find Nigel, find someone, anyone. Then I heard a faint pounding in the distance. I made my way along the wall towards it, and heard his voice. It was muffled, panicked.

"Help! Someone please help!" I quickened my pace, nearly running, listening as the sound got nearer. Then my hand slid across the face of a door I knew from memory was a closet. The pounding, along with Nigel's voice, was coming from inside. I ran my hands along its surface until I found the lock and opened the door. I heard Nigel's intake of breath somewhere near the floor.

"Jordan," he said, perplexed.

"Are you alright?" I asked, falling to my knees to make myself level with his voice. His hand reached out to brush my face gently.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine. Got a bit of a headache, but…what happened?" I couldn't answer at first.

"I shot him," I said finally. There was a pause, and then I started shaking again. Nigel gently took the gun still clutched in my left hand and set it aside. Then he pulled me into his arms, and I relaxed against him. We just sat there for several minutes.

"Stay here," he said gently after awhile. I nodded and obeyed as he stood and made his way back in the direction of my apartment. I sat by the closet until he returned a few minutes later and sat down beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"He's dead," he said quietly. "I've called the police, and Dr. Macy. They'll be here soon." I nodded again.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

"He ambushed me; whacked me over the head with something. I woke up in the closet." He reached over and gripped my hand. "I was so afraid for you, love," he said quietly. "You were alone and defenseless, and…" he faltered.

"Blind," I finished for him. He wrapped his arms back around me and held me to him.

"I was afraid for you too," I whispered. "I knew he'd taken your key. I was afraid he'd killed you." We sat there until the police arrived, followed by the morgue staff. Garret found us quickly and immediately took me into his arms.

"I thought I told you not to do this to me anymore," he said, and I gave him a small smile. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm fine."

"Nigel," I heard Bug's voice say to my right, "you're bleeding!" I turned a worried face towards the tall Brit.

"It's just a scratch," he said quickly. "Don't worry about it love."

"If you guys aren't hurt," said Garret, "I've got to go do my job." He gave me another hug and I heard him and Bug walk back to my apartment.

"You sure you're alright, love?" Nigel whispered as we followed them, his arm draped over my shoulders. I knew he didn't mean in a physical sense, and I took a moment before answering.

"I let him get to me," I said. "I let him get inside my head." Rarely did people get past my defenses, past the wall that I had built for myself years ago. He had tried, attempting to get control over me. He'd nearly succeeded.

"Perhaps," said Nigel, "but you won in the end, Jordan. It's why you're standing here now, and that's all that matters." He held me more tightly to him, and I lay my head against his shoulder

"Thanks Nige."