Jen spun around, gesturing frantically to Orli, who somehow understood her and started outside at a run, along with Josh. The door opened just as they reached it and Josh nearly flew out, violently knocking someone to the ground in the process.

"Oooooh," Michelle groaned as her head hit the cement. "That's going to leave a mark."

Josh stared at Michelle and extended a hand to help her up as she regained her senses.

"What was that for?" Michelle demanded.

"Sorry," Josh apologized. "Rachael's on the phone- again- and Jen thought they had you. We were a bit worried."

Michelle stood still for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. Then she uttered the biggest word in her vocabulary, at least when the whole world was spinning in circles and a migraine was coming on: "Oh."

Orli yelled inside the house, "Jen, she's fine! Tell Rachael nice try!"

"Gee, was everyone worried?" Michelle's voice was sarcastic.

Josh stared at her. "I just said we were."

Michelle shrugged and looked past him. "Orli, what do you have in the way of… umm…-" glaring pointedly at Josh "-pain reliever?"

"I said I was sorry," Josh muttered as he followed her inside.

"Yeah, and later I'll apologize for the bitch I know I'm being," Michelle called over her shoulder

Jen sighed, anger and suspicion mixing with relief, and prepared to hang up the phone. "One last thing, Jennifer," Rachael said quickly, sensing this.

Jen couldn't resist. "What?"
"We're watching." Rachael beat Jen in hanging up.

"Well," Jen muttered, disgruntled. She followed soft voices to the living room, where Michelle was lying down next to Josh and Orli sat across from them.

All three ceased conversation and looked up when she came in.

"What'd she say?" Josh asked, sounding tense and strained.

"Not much, the usual," Jen answered brightly, suddenly understanding why Michelle had become so perky and bubbly after she'd taken a call from Rachael. She was scared, and she didn't want to think about it. "Like Eric from Boy Meets World: 'She said what all killers say. She wants to kill us, she wants us to wait right here.'"

Orli stared at her. So did Josh. Michelle just smiled knowingly. "So it's all good, right?" she asked, just for clarification.

"Yes," Jen affirmed. "It's all good."

Two weeks later

Jen sighed, feeling a bit sorry for herself. She, Orli, Josh and Michelle had tried hard to readjust to a normal life, meaning that Jen was stuck at home, lonely again, while Orli was still off filming. In a valiant, but failed, attempt to amuse herself, she had tried writing more music. She had met with her boss about a week ago, and he had offered some very useful advice and encouraged her to just try writing short parts of songs, both to develop her skills and to see if other people could co-write. John wanted her to have several of these done, and see if she could bring in a complete song, utilizing whatever outside help she found necessary. Jen, always the independent sort, wanted to do as much as she could by herself, and was determined to work hard. So far the only product of her efforts was one stanza of a not-very-promising song:

I like purple monkeys

And Rachael Leigh Cook sucks

O ye of little observance, can't you see

I am in love with male ducks

Jen stared at her writing in dismay ("Where on earth did this come from?" she wondered), then slowly began to laugh as she imagined the expressions of Orli, Josh and Michelle. Particularly Michelle, because knowing Josh and Orli they would say it was worthy of some prestigious award, which it most decidedly was not. Jen's mild laughter rapidly turned to hilarity as she pictured her friends once again.

The phone rang suddenly, echoing loudly through the empty house and completely destroying the moment. Jen sighed and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hi, Jennifer? This is Tobey Maguire… remember me… please don't hang up, I have something important to tell you…"

Jen felt uncontrollable anger flare up. The words just started spilling out of her mouth, and she couldn't seem to stop them coming. "You lied to me, made me trust you and then threatened my best friend. Why should I listen to you?"

"No, it's not…"

Jen hung up and sat back down on the couch, seething. After a few minutes she relaxed and started wondering just what Tobey Maguire had wanted to tell her. She wouldn't have believed him, of course, but all the same she wondered. What could possibly be so important that Tobey, who must know that Jen mistrusted him with all her heart, would be calling and trying to tell her anything?

The insistent ding-dong of the doorbell cut its way into her musings, if indeed they could be considered musings. Jen sighed and dragged herself up; reluctant to actually walk across the room to open the door, which at the moment seemed very far away.

Later, she would never forgive herself for not checking who was at the door before she unlocked it and started to open it. She only started to open it, because as soon as it was unlocked a small explosion from the other side could be heard, and the door swung inward so hard it was nearly thrown off its hinges.

"Hey!" Jen began indignantly. "That is an expensive door! We do not break the door! No no no!"

Then she stopped as she saw who her company was.

Rachael Leigh Cook.

"I would say I'm surprised," Jen remarked dryly, "but I'm really not. I mean, I'm the first to admit I have some rude friends, but none of them have ever tried to break down my front door."

Rachael smirked. "I didn't know you could actually be sarcastic, Jennifer. I always thought you were just the crazy one whose only talent was that she could sing slightly well."

Jen's face flushed but she refused to rise to the bait. "Because knowing how to piss people off in a major way is oh so much better."

Rachael smiled again. The anger in her eyes looked out of place in her pale, pretty face. "You can't provoke me, so don't try. I'm here to…"

"Have a chat? And maybe a nice cup of tea?" Jen interrupted, ever an optimist.

"Interesting theory, but I'm thinking not."

"Well then," Jen persisted, "do you prefer coffee? I can make coffee just as well as tea, you know."

A flicker of something akin to annoyance actually passed across Rachael's face. Visible for only an instant, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. But when Rachael spoke, her voice was as tightly controlled as ever. "It's time to stop being stupid now, Jennifer. We need to… talk… about some things."

Jen smiled triumphantly. "See, I knew it would involve a chat!"

Rachael wisely ignored her. "You may recall that letter your friend Michelle got." She paused, clearly waiting for a response.

Jen decided to speak. "Which one would that be? The one threatening us all with… what was it again? Oh yeah! Murder, that was it."

"Yes, that one," Rachael continued calmly. "Now, it wasn't actually intended for her."

"Of course not," Jen said amicably. "It had her name, address, and even a 'Hello Michelle' as an opening line. It wouldn't be 'intended for her.'"

"It was a warning. Albeit an indirect warning," Rachael added, looking surprised, as if this particular fact had just occurred to her. "It wasn't for her. It was supposed to give you a hint, and make you worry about her, so everyone would stop worrying about you."

"That was nice of you," Jen commented dryly, refusing to give in to the fear promoted by the wild, insistent jackhammering of her heart. "I mean, technically you failed, what with all those letters you sent me, too, but it was very thoughtful."

Rachael smiled. "And yet, you're here all alone. Maybe that's because Josh cares about Michelle more. Maybe that's because Orlando would rather be living his life. Maybe they're all sick of worrying about you like they have been for months."

Jen's heart constricted. "You won't get me like that," she spat. "I know how my friends feel about me." Defiance held her upright, anger made her able to look Rachael in the eye and stare her down.

Rachael took a step closer. Somehow it made her seem three feet taller and twice as threatening. "But they're not here right now, are they?" she hissed.

Jen fought off something like panic. "Your powers of observation will never cease to amaze me," she deadpanned.

Rachael smirked again, the triumphant smirk of someone who knows she's won, but whose opposition hasn't given it yet. "You look a bit nervous," she observed.

"Yes, well, that would be one of those nasty side effects of nervousness," Jen remarked, sounding more regretful than anything else. More in control, her voice barely shook and her face didn't betray her growing terror.

Rachael's smirk remained frozen on her face. "When did you suddenly become all sarcastic? And do you really think you can win this fight?"

"I've always been sarcastic," Jen answered dryly. "But, while we're at it, I don't believe we were ever properly introduced." She stuck out her hand. "Hi, I'm Jen."

Rachael just stared. Then, suddenly, she reached out her hand to forcibly drag Jen out of the house, but foreseeing this, Jen quickly dropped her hand, and in the same instant reached subtly into her purse, sitting on the end table next to her, and called Michelle. She would figure it out, and drag Josh over with her, so neither of them would let any danger come to the other. Jen hated thinking she needed rescuing, but this was looking bad.

Then it got worse.

Rachael reached into her own purse and pulled out a cute little handgun. Seeing Jen's eyes widen in surprise, she smiled in satisfaction and said, biting off the words, "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Jennifer, and it's going to take thirty seconds out of my life, and then you are going to come with me."

"Why would I do that?" Jen interrupted, talking loudly to muffle the sound of Josh, who had just picked up the phone.

"See, I need Orlando. I'm not going to tell you why-"

"And you said you were going to tell me everything." Jen resisted a mad desire to add, "Liar, liar, pants on fire."

Rachael continued as though there had been no interruption. "So the best way to get him, obviously, is through you. Now, about Michelle-"

Jen decided not to interrupt this time, anxious to hear what Rachael was about to say.

"I don't need her. I would love nothing more than to get my hands on her-"

Jen's next comment popped out of her mouth without her consenting to it. "Thank you for that lovely image, I just went to a very dark mental place."

Rachael continued to ignore her. "But she's more trouble than she's worth."

"And I'm not?" Jen demanded, outraged.

"You're worth more in this case."

"Oh," Jen said, mollified. Then, "Wait…"

"I already know you remember the letter from Tobey; I asked you about it before. I suspect he tried to get in touch with you recently, maybe even right before I showed up, and I'm sure you hung up on him if he tried to call you. Good for you, that makes this much easier."

"I don't get it," Jen said, hating to admit to her confusion.

"Don't you? Didn't you ever notice the letters from me to you were handwritten, and the one from Tobey to Michelle was typed?"

"I noticed, but I didn't think anything of it," Jen responded, indifferent. Then, "Oh…"

"Took you long enough," Rachael snapped, annoyed. "That was just to draw attention away from you, but I had to warn you anyway, to see if I could get you to go away on your own. But when that didn't work I tried sending something to Michelle, too, just to make her worried, and when your secret came out, so did hers, so you three were just as worried about her, which meant that they wouldn't feel like they needed to constantly watch over you, which meant I could catch you on your own. Are you following this?" Rachael added thoughtfully.

"I think I am, but I must admit I don't see where it's going."

"It's like this, Jennifer," Rachael said impatiently. "The best way to get to Orlando is through you, which is why you need to come with me."

"And if I refuse, which, given the circumstances, I am likely to do?"

"Well, see, that's where this cute little handgun comes in."
"So just kill me," Jen suggested, hoping Rachael wouldn't take her up on the suggestion.

Rachael shook her head. "That wouldn't work." Her anger suddenly flared up. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Jennifer? I saw you go for your cell phone; I heard Josh answer it too; I know what you're thinking, that he and Michelle are on their way over. So," she finished, "it's your choice. I don't need either of them, just you. Are you following this, too?"

Jen swallowed. "So if they show up, and we're still here, you'll just kill them."

"Exactly." Rachael smiled coldly. "So what's it going to be?"

"You know," Jen whispered, voice shaking. "That's cruel."

"Well, we'd better be going," Rachael said brightly, rather as though she had suggested a picnic in the park and was anxious to be off.

Jen glared at her in pure unadulterated hatred.

Rachael smiled cheerfully. "There's really no need for that look, Jennifer. It's only temporary, after all. You'll be home as soon as your husband comes after you." Her voice hardened. "Now come on already."

"You won't win. Maybe this part, yes, but you'll lose in the end," Jen spat heatedly, and walked out the door, head held high but with a quiet sigh of defeat.

When Josh read the Caller ID, picked up the phone and got no answer from Jen, he knew something was wrong. Michelle was even quicker to pick up on it. Josh strode over to the foot of the stairs, getting ready to call her downstairs, but before he opened his mouth she came flying down, hastily yanking her denim jacket on over her green halter top. "What's wrong?" she asked, sounding frantic.

Josh stared, speechless. "How the hell did you know?"

"So something is wrong." It was not a question.

"Possibly," Josh admitted.

"So are we going over there?"

"Of course… we can take my car; it's already out in the driveway."

Orli wasn't needed on the set at the moment, so, tired from a week of rushing around with virtually no sleep, he tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn as he headed for a soft, velvety couch and promptly fell asleep.

Orli padded quietly into the kitchen, the bunny slippers (a birthday gift from Jen) on his feet making no sound as they slid lightly across the tile floor. It was early morning, strange, Orli reflected, because Jen was not a morning person. Yet there she was, making tea in the kitchen, just the way he liked it. She hadn't seen him yet, and he hated to say anything to ruin the moment. He watched her silently for a minute before she glanced up. She didn't look surprised to see him; rather, she smiled peacefully. The sunlight streaming through the window illuminated her reddish-brown hair. She looked so young and vulnerable with her sweet face devoid of the makeup that she always wore when she wanted to look more sophisticated.

"Hey," she greeted him with a soft grin, the first to break the silence that hung between them.

"Hey, yourself," Orli responded. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Shh," Jen cautioned. "No questions. You just have to wait, and learn."

"What-" Orli began, but Jen held a finger to her lips. Then, deliberately, she poured hot water into a mug and offered it to him with another smile, snapping the tension. Orli took the cup gratefully, shivering. Late November in New York made everything cold, especially before the sun rose. Orli sipped the tea, smiling as the hot liquid trickled down his throat. Then he frowned suddenly, looking at Jen, who had her back turned to him. Her hair was suddenly black. Alarm bells began clanging in Orli's head as he grabbed the woman who was suddenly not Jen by the shoulder and spun her roughly around.

He was looking Rachael Leigh Cook full in the face.

She smirked, that infamous smirk she had, as she spoke, but not in her own voice. It was frightening to hear the voice of his own beloved Jen coming from the mouth of his archenemy. "Don't you understand, Orlando?" Jen's voice, when Rachael used it, was cold and clipped, devoid of the warmth and laughter it normally held.

"No," he confessed, growing angry even as he admitted it. "Why are you here, and where's Jen?"

"No questions, Orlando," Rachael reminded him mockingly. "I give information. You don't ask questions."

"Well, then tell me!" Orli yelled, frustrated.

"Patience is a virtue," Rachael laughed. Orli's anger reached fever pitch, and with a cry of rage he reached for her. Rachael nimbly jumped back, out of his reach, laughing. He lunged for her a second time, quick enough this time that her head hit the corner of a wooden cabinet. A trickle of blood flowed out. Pain twisted her features for an instant, and then her eyes closed peacefully. Orli watched, and suddenly, he realized he was staring at Jen again, a small but steady stream of blood in the same place as it had been on Rachael. Jen, too, had her eyes closed, seemingly unaware of any pain.

Orli gasped, and the sound brought Jen back to life. Her eyes fluttered open, and as they did she became aware of the throbbing in her head and grimaced, but she spoke anyway. "Don't come after me." Jen rarely issued harsh commands, except in play. But this- this was an order.

Orli didn't move a muscle, except to croak, "What?"

"You can't come after me," she repeated. "As long as you don't come after me, I'll be fine. You have to believe that, Orli. It isn't me they want; they'll wait for you to show up, and if you don't, I'll be safe." Her face changed suddenly, horror spreading across her features. "Promise me! Promise!" she cried with unguarded panic. "Promise!"

"I can't," Orli cried, voice thick with anguish. "Jen… what's happening?"

"The dream is ending," she explained. "In a moment you'll wake up… You have to promise me this one thing!"

"No…"

"Please, Orli!"

"I can't…"

He woke up, very suddenly, still hearing Jen crying, "Promise me!"

When they got to Jen's, the house looked very empty. The only sign of life was a car pulling out of the driveway- one that wasn't Jen's or Orli's.

Michelle made her decision very fast. "Follow them," she ordered. "She has to have seen us, but she can't do anything about it, not until she gets wherever she's trying to go. You need to figure out where that is."

"What about you?" Josh demanded, foreseeing the inevitable.

"I'm staying," she said flatly. "If anything happens, there'll be someone here to explain everything to Orli. And I'm going to see if they left anything behind. Call me on my cell phone in a half hour. I'll leave it on. And if I don't answer, call our house and Jen's. Leave your cell phone on too, in case I need to call you."

"I am not leaving you here!"

"Oh, yes you are!"

"No! What if something happens?"

"Then I will kill whoever is responsible, whether I have a rock, a pistol or a piece of cooked spaghetti," Michelle responded. "Damnit, Josh, go! You'll lose them! Stop the car, let me out, and GO!" she roared.

Josh bit his lip. "I'm calling you soon."

"Wait awhile, and, actually… call the house first; if someone in there hears my cell they'll know I'm there. Not," she added hastily, "that I'm expecting anyone to be there."

He leaned over to kiss her. "Love you."

"Love you more than life itself," she responded. "Be careful." And with that, she grabbed her purse, complete with Jen's house key, and raced up the walkway as Josh tore off in hot pursuit of Rachael's car.

Orli groaned once, then forced himself to get off the couch. As soon as he sat up, the full memory of the dream came roaring back to him.

Orlando was a practical sort. He didn't believe in the interpretation of dreams. He had no reason to think anything was wrong, yet an acute terror seemed to be growing inside him. "Fine," he muttered to himself, annoyed. "I'll just call home to make sure Jen's all right." He whipped out his cell and dialed.

When the machine picked up, he hung up and phoned Josh and Michelle's house. He was most disconcerted to find that there was no answer there either. "Then they just went to see a movie or went out to eat together," he suggested to himself, and called Jen's cell.

This was getting rather routine, and equally comical, in a morbid, nervous sort of way. Jen's phone wasn't on, so he called Josh's cell, but Josh didn't pick up. Orli was truly beginning to panic as he dialed Michelle's cell, his last hope. "Pick up, pick up!" he whispered urgently. His heart sank after three rings.

In the middle of the fourth ring, Michelle picked up. "Orli, what's wrong?" she hissed. "This is a bad time!"

"I don't know," he tried to explain. "I just have this bad feeling, that something's wrong with Jen, and I tried calling everyone, and nobody answered. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Michelle lied. "Orli- when's the soonest you can get home?"

"Something is wrong," he said urgently. "Tell me, Michelle!"

"You have no reason to think that."

"You're giving me a real good one right now!"

"When's the soonest you can get off?" Michelle repeated.

"I'm coming home now," he responded. "Where are you?"

"Your house. Orli- everything's fine, even though I know you don't believe me. Just hurry, okay?"

"That's so reassuring, Michelle. Why can't you just tell me what's going on?"

"I can't. Please, Orli," she pleaded, "trust me."

"Fine," Orli sighed. Nobody could hold out against Michelle's stubbornness. "I know you're lying, but fine."

Michelle sighed in relief as she hung up the phone. Orli was on his way; she wouldn't be alone for long… The dark house was intimidating when she was alone and scared. Hardly daring to breathe, after a quick search of the house, revealing nothing, she crouched by a table beside the door, back against the wall.

After a few minutes, the door creaked open slowly. Michelle sunk even further down out of instinct, even though she was sure it was Orli. He had made that trip pretty fast, though… Oh well, Michelle reasoned, he had probably sped all the way home. Of course he had known she was lying; she couldn't have come up with a reason why he needed to come home if everything were fine. Still, she hadn't wanted him to panic and do something stupid, so she had tried to reassure him.

A man walked into the front hallway. "Jen?" he called softly. Then, more loudly, "Jen?"

He waited a moment, then chuckled softly. "Guess she's not here, then," he remarked to himself. His accent, perfectly British a moment before, was suddenly pure American, and Michelle reeled back in silent horror. "Good; then Rachael did her job well. Now, the other three… what did she say about them?" and Michelle found herself leaning slightly forward to hear better, even though the man was not talking at all softly anymore. "Let's see, let's see…" He thought for a moment, and Michelle was beginning to believe he was not going to share his information aloud, when he suddenly continued. "The other two… Josh and… what was it? Michael? Hmm… are they gay? Well anyway, Rachael doesn't care about them. If you have to take one of them, then make sure you get the other, that's what she said. Don't get one without the other, or else the other will go off looking for the one with that third guy, who's supposed to be going after Jennifer. What was his name? Florida? Well, something like that. Anyway, he's supposed to come after Jennifer; she's supposed to be a hostage or something, and the other two are supposed to stay out of the way, I guess. Well, I'll just leave this note on the table for Mr. Florida to see when he gets home…" He stopped suddenly, and then yelped, in a suspiciously high-pitched voice, "Michelle!"

Michelle jumped, then winced as she made a soft, but audible noise. "That's her name, Michelle! I guess they're not gay… That's a shame. Well, Rachael said not to stay longer than I have to, so I guess I should be going… as soon as I leave this note…" He sauntered over to the end table that Michelle was crouched by; she swiftly slid under it, covered by the long tablecloth over it that reached to the floor. The man who was not Orli banged the note down, with a noise that made Michelle flinch in pain at the resounding clash.

But then, in cold horror, Michelle heard the sound of the door opening again and thought the real Orli had to be home. For the first time in her life, she wished she were wrong.

She wasn't.

Orli all but sprinted through the door, yelling, "Michelle? Where are you? Michelle!"

The other man realized too late that he was not alone, and spun around snarling to face Orli. "So Michelle's supposed to be here," he said slowly. "And now, thanks to you, I'm going to tear the house apart looking for her."

Orli's initial reaction was confusion, but he quickly overcame that with a string of obscenities. The man blinked in surprise. "And you must be Florida!" he cried delightedly, once Orli had finished talking. "Then we can forget about Michelle and cut right to the chase."

Michelle bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, but kept silent. She would interfere if she had to, but for now she knew she would be most helpful just listening.

"What do you want?" Orli demanded, sounding half weary and half furious.

"I don't want anything," the man said, then made a sort of mocking half-bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Mark. I am the very important person who is going to completely change your world."

Orli stared at him blankly, not comprehending. Then it clicked.

"Where's Jen, exactly?" he demanded tensely.

"No, I'm sorry, but you don't get to ask questions," Mark sneered. "I ask the questions, you give the answers, and on occasion I gave information- if you're good."

Orli ignored the taunt in the last three words with an admirable retention of dignity.

Mark continued talking. "You mentioned Michelle, so I'm thinking she must be here, but she can wait. It isn't her that Rachael wants. And Rachael tends to get what she wants, or things tend to get thrown. Last time you four managed to get away from her she threw seven kinds of tantrums. Destroyed my very best television set," he added blandly. "Do you know how much those cost? It had a VCR and DVD player! So anyway, I really would like it if I managed to make Rachael happy. I just bought a new TV and I don't want her to break it this time."

Orli let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "So this is why you're working for Rachael? Because she messed up your last television set?"

While Mark seethed about the TV, Orli jumped at him. "Hey!" Mark yelped, then quickly recovered himself and swung back a ham-sized fist.

Michelle, realizing it was a good time to show herself, leaped out from under the table and grabbed his arm, knocking him off-balance and causing him to fall to the floor, not without a great deal of noise. He was a good deal bigger and stronger than she was, but even he couldn't swing his arm out with a young woman sitting on it.

"Orli!" Michelle cried. "See, this is the gist of what's wrong."

"I figured," he responded through gritted teeth. "Do you have something in mind to do now, or are you just going to sit on this guy's arm indefinitely?"

"The second one," she answered, "unless you have some brilliant idea."

Jen sat in the back of the car and discovered very quickly that she wasn't going to be able to make a nice clean getaway at a red light. Rachael had enough foresight to put the child safety lock on the back doors, which meant only Rachael would be able to open them, from the outside. There was also a big, scary-looking man sitting right by Jen and looking as though he was just itching for an excuse to kill.

That made Jen nervous.

So she tried making conversation with Rachael, who for the first time was striking her as the lesser of two evils.

"So, where exactly are we planning to go?" Jen wondered, curious.

"We're going to the place I'm driving to," Rachael snapped. "Don't ask questions."

"You know, you make nice conversation really difficult," Jen commented, mildly indignant. "It's not like you can't just tell me where we're going. I'm going to find out anyway, sooner or later."

"You'll find out later," Rachael half-yelled.

"Geez, and I thought Michelle got mad easily," Jen muttered. Undaunted, she tried again. "So I really don't understand this thing with Tobey. Is he with you, or not?"

Rachael groaned. "Obviously, you're not going to shut up, so to put it simply, no."

"Well, now I'm just more confused, so could you be a little less simple?"

Rachael sounded beyond annoyed now. "He was, to begin with, but then he felt bad at his part in the whole thing when I unwisely gave him the job of getting to you.

"Unfortunately, I've known for a long time that someone on my side of this whole operation agrees with him, but I have no idea who that is. And I haven't been able to get rid of anyone, because at the moment I need everyone I can get. Anyway, everyone who works for me has to know exactly what I'm planning, or they're bound to mess something up. So whoever sides with Tobey knows everything I'm about to do, and I think he- possibly she- told Tobey what I was planning to do with you. Sending the letter to Michelle worked because I didn't tell anyone else about that, so Tobey wasn't able to warn her, or any of you, beforehand. But later, I had to tell everyone that I used Tobey as a decoy, if you will, and that's why he tried to get in touch with you. I didn't tell anyone that I had typed the letter because I couldn't imitate his handwriting, only that I had pretended to be him. So he had no real reason to panic, probably thinking you saw right through my idea, until I told everyone what I was going to do next. He knew what I was planning, and he really did know you wouldn't believe him. That hurt him- he liked you, Jen. That's why he decided to turn against me and try to earn back your trust."

Jen was silent a moment, digesting all this. Then she remarked, mostly to herself, "At the wedding, when Tobey came up to me, I wasn't sure I could trust him. But Michelle believed I could. She was not happy with herself when she thought she'd been wrong about his being trustworthy. But she wasn't wrong. I felt the same way- I couldn't believe he'd tricked me, couldn't believe I'd been stupid enough to trust him after everything he did. But I wasn't wrong, either."

Rachael sighed- it wouldn't be the last time Jen caused this reaction in her. "No, you weren't wrong. But you believed you were, so I did my job well."

Jen sighed, too, from all the panic and fear and relief at having been right about something so important all mixed together, but she said nothing more.

The conversation over, Jen gazed out the window. It was nice outside, a bit chilly but not yet bitter winter. At the moment, though, the scenery wasn't much, considering they were on the highway. Jen was sure they must be breaking speed limits and wondered why Rachael would want to attract attention to herself. She turned around and gazed absently through the back window, just to give herself something different to look at.

She thought she recognized the car behind them, but didn't think much of it until she had stared at it for a while and finally managed to get a good view of the person behind the wheel.

It was Josh.

Ah, Jen thought. So that's why Rachael's speeding.

Jen was proud of herself for managing to keep her friends alive while still alerting them to danger, but now here was Josh, following right behind her. She knew she should be relieved, not being alone anymore, but instead she was terrified that if Josh could keep up with Rachael- a feat that could well get him killed, the way the other woman was driving- she would kill him when they arrived at- at wherever Rachael was headed.

"Rachael," Jen started, turning around. "Is it too late to suggest that we call a truce?"

"No, I'm busy driving," Rachael responded. "Oh, and that reminds me. The easiest way to get rid of your friend back there might be to get pulled over, if I can manage it. So what I need you to do is remember this little gun, which, by the way, my friend has now. If and when you feel the urge to open your mouth and tell the officer that you are an unwilling passenger in my car, all you need to do is remember the little gun. Because, understand this, if you dare open your mouth and tell the officer what I'm trying to do here, I'll have my friend kill him, you, and later, your other friends. Except Orlando," she added as an afterthought, "because I still need him. So just remember that. The story is, since everyone knows we don't exactly get along, we've called a agreement, and since none of your thirty thousand cars seemed to be working right, I generously came over and picked you up, and we're off to my private cabin just to spend a couple days talking about our problems, understanding each other and just becoming better friends, because you've decided that you've been wrong all along about me, that Tobey is really the enemy."

"Hypothetically speaking," Jen interjected. "Should I tell the officer we're really lesbians too?"

"What does that mean?" Rachael demanded, swinging around in her seat.

"It means, watch the road," Jen answered sweetly.

Rachael turned around and slammed down on the gas, even harder than before. "Now what did you just say?"

"You sure have spent a lot of time dreaming up this theory. I didn't even know you were really going to try to get pulled over. Besides, the idea of us spending a few days alone together just doesn't sound quite right," Jen explained patiently, rather as though she were talking to a two-year-old. "I mean really, since we need to 'understand each other and become friends,' tell me, what exactly do you do with all that spare time you seem to have?"

Rachael turned back briefly, giving Jen an evil glare. "I spend it all coming after you and plotting slow, painful deaths for your friends."

Jen stared. "Okay, now could you maybe stop saying that? It's starting to get a bit… unnerving."

Rachael laughed. "Good."

"You know, Rachael," Jen began, "I really think we got started on the wrong foot."

"If this is about calling a truce again…" Rachael interrupted, letting the words hang in the air.

"No, it's not," Jen said quickly. "I was just thinking aloud. I just can't figure out how your being madly in love with my husband came to this."

Rachael sighed. "You're not even worth answering."

"Aren't I?" Jen questioned.

"No, you're not."

"Well, thank you oh so much."

Rachael sounded exasperated. "Jen, if you hadn't mixed in with the wrong crowd, I would've liked you. If you hadn't crossed me the wrong way, I think we could have been friends. But you did, and that's why everything came to this."

Jen just stared, rendered speechless.

The phone rang three times, but Josh was caught up in a wild chase on the highway and had no time or free hands to answer it. He only hoped it wasn't Michelle or Orli. He already knew it wasn't Jen, because he was quite sure she didn't have her cell phone with her, and even if she had, she wouldn't have been able to call him.

Josh swore in frustration. It was getting harder and harder to keep up with Rachael, who was going far faster than the speed limit permitted, deliberately, he was sure, to shake him off. She had to have seen him. The only good thing about that was that Jen had probably seen him as well. He hoped she could hold out long enough for him to get her some help. He knew she was strong enough.

He also knew Rachael had a gun.

He had no idea how he knew, but since ESP seemed to be visiting everyone in the group, he figured it was his turn. That scared him, thinking Rachael had the means and the will to kill Jen. He promised himself he would do everything in his power to protect her, but at the moment he had no idea how to help her when he was doing all he could just to keep up with her.

Through the tinted glass, he saw Jen turn around, and then he saw Rachael whirl around angrily, as if Jen had said something upsetting to her. Then Rachael turned around again and hit the gas pedal even harder. Josh swore once more and sped up to match her speed. He couldn't, at any and all costs, afford to lose them. Jen's life might depend on it.

Josh nearly forgot to breathe, thinking about that one. He didn't like taking risks with the people he loved and cared for, especially not one of his best friends, who also happened to be another best friend's wife. He could never trust himself to do the right thing, and he always blamed himself if anything went wrong.

At last Rachael existed off the highway, onto a much slower road that looked as though it would soon lead to someplace very rural. It was easier to keep up with Rachael then. Josh smiled grimly and slowed down as Rachael did likewise. He saw her look back at him, eyes wide with anger, annoyance and something close to alarm.

He made a very rude gesture at her.

Jen, who was also turned around, saw him and tried to stifle her laugh. But somehow, Josh read the worry in her eyes. She didn't want saving; she was just as afraid of being responsible for Josh's life as he was for hers.

That was touching.

Unfortunately, Josh had to shake it off for the moment and keep driving. After another half hour, Rachael turned onto a secluded lane with a large, but old, house and a barn- it had quite obviously been a farm perhaps a century ago, but time had taken its toll on the place. The shutters in the loft of the barn were rotting away, sagging with the heavy burden of their long years. The red paint on the once-bright barn was peeling away in large strips, and the house itself looked bare and empty, partially covered under a thick layer of dust in spots where the wind and rain never reached, as though nobody had inhabited it for many years.

Rachael led Jen out of the car and into the house. Josh caught a glint of metal as he saw the gun he'd known she had, and he held his breath, afraid to breathe. At the moment, he and his car were hidden amidst a wild tangle of untended trees and bushes, but that couldn't last long. Rachael had known he was following. So Josh dug around in his car until he came up with a pad of paper and a pen. He quickly jotted down the address, surprised that there was one for this ancient dwelling. Then he located his cell phone and dialed Michelle, realizing far too late that he'd completely forgotten to call her.

Michelle's cell phone rang suddenly, as Mark swore and threatened Orli and her. She gave him a rude look, then stared blankly at her cell for a moment before picking it up, apologetically explaining to Orli at the same time, "It might be Josh; he was supposed to call about an hour ago."

Orli listened; the conversation was brief. It was indeed Josh, who, from what Orli could tell, apologized profusely for not calling sooner. Michelle reluctantly mentioned Mark when Josh heard him screaming in the background; Josh in turn told her hesitantly of where he was, where Jen was, and that Rachael had a gun, but seemed not to want to use it on Jen. Then suddenly, Michelle cried, "Josh? Josh!" She hung up the phone, glancing at Orli in frustration. "I lost him! The phone went dead or something." She tried calling him back, but it wouldn't ring at all.

When she looked up, her fear and worry were reflected in the twin pools of Orli's dark eyes. He tried to smile, but couldn't. Instead he broke her gaze and looked down at Mark. "So what are we supposed to do with him?" he asked, half-yelling over the other man's ranting.

Michelle shook her head, baffled. "And more importantly… what about Josh and Jen?"

Michelle was understanding enough about Josh's having called so late. He'd been busy gunning down Rachael on the highway, in a manner of speaking. However, she was not altogether pleased that he had no idea how to get back home, or that Rachael had a gun. Josh, in turn, wasn't too thrilled with the idea of some man named Mark in Orli's front room, possibly capable of killing both of them with his bare hands, from the sound of his voice and the angry threats Josh could hear.

Josh was in the middle of telling Michelle he wasn't sure exactly which way he had come, or even in which general direction home was, when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around quickly to find a large, burly man standing over him. Before Josh had time to say another word, the man yanked the cell phone out of his hand and cut Michelle off. Then, smirking, he turned the cell off and pocketed it, slowly and deliberately.

Josh heard another noise behind him and turned in the other direction again. This time it was Rachael, Jen in front of her. Rachael, Josh was not naïve enough to miss, had her little metal gun out and looked very ready to use it.

Josh opened his mouth before she did. "So just kill me, then." Upon reflection, some time later, he found no memory of giving the words permission to leave the tip of his tongue, nor did he have any idea why he had suggested it.

Rachael sighed. "I would love to, but I have a better idea. We're going to call this one a draw, Josh. You leave and forget you were here. Don't worry, I've already sent someone to bring Orlando back to get Jen. I don't want you here when he arrives. So just… leave, and nothing bad will happen. How's that?"

Josh levelly met her gaze. "And if I don't?"

"Let me put it this way," Rachael answered coolly, slowly and carefully enunciating each word. "I don't think your friend Orlando would appreciate it if he thought you were responsible for Jen's death when I would have just let her go otherwise."

"She wouldn't kill me," Jen interjected quickly. "She had a million and one opportunities before, and she said she had better ideas." Jen groaned inwardly as the words slipped out. She should have just let Josh go on thinking that Rachael would actually use the gun on her, if it would keep him safe.

Rachael sounded utterly infuriated. "I would kill you, Jennifer. I needed to get you here first, so Orlando would follow you. But since he'll be on his way anyway, it doesn't matter now."

"So why not just keep Josh here?" Jen wondered; though she would really prefer that Rachael didn't take the suggestion seriously, curiousity was winning out over common sense.

"Because then his stupid wife would come after him with Orlando, and I don't want that," Rachael snapped.

"Michelle is not stupid," Josh and Jen chorused automatically.

"Oh, yes she is," Rachael laughed. "And it would be a pretty stupid idea to disagree with me, considering the circumstances."

Jen bit her lip and said nothing more.

"So, Josh, what'll it be?" Rachael inquired casually.

"I'm not leaving," he said stubbornly.

"In that case…" Rachael started, letting the words hang in the air as she fingered the gun in her hand.

"Tell you what," Orli said finally. "How about if we just…" He drew back an arm and socked Mark full in the face. At last the other man fell silent.

"Well, that's a welcome change," Orli sighed gratefully.

"Unfortunately," Michelle added thoughtfully, sounding a bit grim, "we have no way to learn where Josh and Jen are now."

"Didn't think of that," Orli commented. "That may be a problem."
"Oh well, in the meantime, we have things to do," Michelle said.

"Like what?" Orli questioned, confused.

"Well," Michelle muttered sheepishly, "I haven't had any lunch, and you probably haven't either, and we can figure out where to leave Mark until he decides to wake up."

Orli just stared. "Lunch is the first thing that comes to your mind."

Michelle looked even more abashed. "I'm hungry, and we can't do anything right now. But first… where should we leave this guy?"

Orli thought for a minute. "We could find a big chair and tie him up there, and then when he wakes up make him tell us where Rachael's keeping Jen."

Michelle nodded her approval. "Got any ropes?"