A/N: Thanks for some reviews and follows! They always make my day :) Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

XXXXX

It took a moment for Sara's eyes to adjust. She was breathing heavily, though only through her nose, and her heart thudding loudly in her chest. He'd tossed them into the truck; since her limbs still weren't cooperating, she stumbled in and fell hard on her right side. There was probably a bruise already starting on her shoulder, but she'd never know. She could hardly see anything.

The metal floor was cold as she struggled to move, feeling trapped inside her own body. She'd only felt this way once before; a night years ago when she'd had a nightmare and half woke up; still dreaming yet somehow alert. Someone had been after her in the dream and it felt like they were there, in her bedroom. She couldn't move, couldn't scream. It was terrifying.

This was worse.

The truck's engine roared to life and she could feel them moving, rumbling onto the road and picking up speed.

She listened for Veronica and knew that she wasn't any better off; Sara could hear her frantic breaths, struggling. After what felt like an eternity, the effects of the taser started to wear off. She'd been laying kind of on her face, kind of on her side, unable to situate herself, but her body slowly felt like her own again. Her mind was finally able to command her limbs, and she rolled onto her good shoulder, sitting up slowly. She peeled the tape off her face, but it hurt more than she'd expected; she could taste the tang of blood as her bottom lip cracked.

She dabbed at the blood with the back of her hand, "Vee?" she asked into the darkness. There was a thin slit along the edges of the truck door, but it was dark out anyways-there was no light on the outside to leak through. The tires rumbled beneath them. The door was firmly latched, but still echoed its metallic sounds as the truck jostled along the road.

She heard the rip of tape and waited, heard Veronica's, "Ouch," as she finished tearing it off, "yea, I'm here. You ok?"

Sarcastically, "Great," then she sighed, "yea I'm ok."

"I'm coming over to you," Veronica replied, and Sara waited, longing for the contact, the anchor of a friend in the darkness.

"I can't see anything," Sara warned, not wanting Veronica to unknowingly crash into her.

A thud, "Ouch. Me neither. Ouch!"

Sara stifled a laugh, her tendency towards dark humor getting the better of her.

"Don't you dare laugh at me," Veronica taunted, though Sara could hear her grin, "I just bumped against something."

"What?"

"I don't know, there must be a lot of stuff in her though because I can't move much."

Sara felt her presence nearer and reached out a hand, finding her leg. Veronica's hands found her shoulder.

Sara took a sharp inhale, the pressure hitting where she'd fallen on her arm.

Exasperated, "I thought you said you were ok!"

"I'm alive," she clarified, "I fell pretty hard though. And my lip is split," a pause, "I think we're both far from ok."

Veronica sat next to her now, their upper arms touching each other, their backs against what felt like a wall.

Veronica, "He took our phones."

Sara's mind startled; she had been so concerned with learning how to move her body again, to get the tape off her mouth, that she hadn't considered anything after that.

"He did?" she felt her pocket, empty, and realized her bag was gone too.

"Must have swiped them when we were on the ground," Veronica deduced, "it was all kind of a blur."

"Sure was," Sara agreed, trying to replay the moment in her mind. All she remembered was the sharp pain, the burning pavement, the fear. Details were hazy at best.

Veronica, softly, "What do we do?"

Sara paused, silent. Calling out for help or yelling was a waste of energy right now. They were on the road, late at night. No one would hear. They didn't have phones. They had to wait.

"Well, for now," she started, "I guess we wait until he stops."

"We can work together," Veronica suggested, a hint of hope appearing in her voice, "he has to open the door eventually and when he does-"

"-we what?" Sara cut her off, "he has a taser and who knows what else."

"There's only one of him."

"That we know of."

Veronica paused, considering this, then tried again, "I'll go at him. If he tasers me again…whatever. That'll give you a chance to run or knock him out or something."

She scoffed, "Hand to hand combat isn't exactly my specialty, and I'm not going to let you martyr yourself."

"You're a doctor," Veronica reminded her, "don't tell me you don't know where the weak spots are. One well aimed blow and you could do serious damage. Break his leg. Knock him out. I really have no preference as long as we get away."

Sara thought for a moment, licking the metallic taste that lingered on her lips, "I wonder if there's anything in here that could help us."

"Like what?"

She shrugged and then regretted it, the movement sending a jolt of pain, "Anything sharp. Or heavy. Or blunt," then parroting Veronica, "I really have no preference."

She scoffed, "I guess we can look around when it gets lighter outside."

Sara nodded, then let the full weight of their situation hit her. Her mind went to a lot of dark places when she briefly tried to image what was in store for them. Human trafficking? Sex slavery? Was he just going to rob them, murder them…she didn't let her mind continue down that path. Softly, "I can't believe this is happening."

Veronica's hand grabbed hers, squeezing hard. She squeezed back.

"If one of us has the chance to get away," Veronica started, her voice low and serious, "we have to take it. I don't want to be separated," she clarified, "but I like our chances better if either one of us is outside of this truck."

Sara was silent.

"Promise me."

A reluctant sigh, "If I get the chance, I'll take it," Sara replied, sealing their promise before settling in. They had a long, sleepless night ahead of them.

XXXXX

Much to her surprise, Veronica woke up with her head on Sara's shoulder. That meant she'd fallen asleep. Given how big a bundle of nerves she'd been, the realization was shocking.

She'd spent what felt like hours imagining all the various scenarios that could play out, none of them desirable. A few of them ended with her and Sara escaping without a scratch, but they all relied on dumb luck or the presence of a weapon in the back of the truck. She wasn't naive.

It was still dark, with no hint of morning light. She had no clock, no way to know how long they'd been in there and then she realized something: there was no hum of the road beneath the tires. It was quiet.

"Sara," she shook her arm gently.

"Hmm?" her head came up.

"I think we're stopped."

More alert now, "We are?"

"Yea, it's quiet."

A moment, "Do you think he left us here?"

She considered, "Why would he? We're obviously valuable to him…to someone."

"But we're locked in. He could've parked us here and left," she ran a hand through her hair, "maybe he's gone, and we could try to get out."

"How? It's latched from the outside and I can't see past my nose in here."

Footsteps echoed outside and they both tensed, her heartbeat loud in her ears. That answered that; they weren't alone. The clank of the latch was painfully loud, giving way to the screech of the door opening.

Veronica, a hushed whisper, "We have to run."

"We can't, he'll-"

The man who'd taken them stood in the doorway, illuminated by a soft, artificial light. The backlit affect made his features more daunting, a dark figure hovering above them, his face undiscernible.

The artificial light told her they were inside a building, a warehouse of sorts. She didn't know what she was hoping for, but it wasn't this. It was too quiet in here, too secluded. Too alone.

He leaned against the frame of the truck door, one arm above his head, "Rise and shine, sleeping beauties," he quipped in an Alabama accent.

Veronica, "Who are you? Why are we here?"

"That, little lady, is for me to know," he smirked, slowly, "and you to spend the rest of your days wondering about."

Veronica studied him in the light; his snakelike appearance. His tongue darted in and out of his mouth as if by compulsion. His eyes were beady, confident aloofness.

He was enjoying himself.

She glanced around the truck, able to see for the first time, and found it to be full of big blue water jugs, stacked from floor to ceiling. Nothing sharp or blunt. They were heavy, but what could she do? Throw one at him? He'd just dodge out of the way. She'd like to whack his head with one, but he seemed far too agile for that plan to work.

"Now," he continued, "all I ask for is a little cooperation. If you behave yourselves, I won't hurt you-"

"-why are we here?" Sara asked.

"Oh, just business," he replied dismissively, "gotta make a living somehow, don't we, Doc?"

Eyes narrowing, "How do you know I'm a doctor?"

"I may have overheard a word or two while you two was chatting away at the bar. I've gotta say," he laughed, amused by himself, "of all the girls I've taken, you two actually have brains. Normally it's blabbing about make-up and boys, but you two...they'll like you. Cream of the crop"

"Who? What're you doing with us?" Veronica demanded.

"Not too long now," he blew over her question, "and I'll be a gentleman about this- you let me know if you need any refreshments. In another day or two you'll be outta my hands," his voice lowered, "I don't know if your next owner will be quite as considerate."

"Owner?" Veronica replied, eyebrows raised.

"Never you mind that," he evaded again.

"We want food," Sara demanded, "water, and a bathroom."

"Whoa, whoa, easy there partner," he strode towards Sara, his eyes roaming over her body, taking it in. Though he was staring at Sara, Veronica was uncomfortable for her, practically squirming.

"Only one of you at a time."

He nodded his head behind him, indicating for Sara to walk towards him. She glanced back to Veronica, who was shaking her head.

In here, they were safer together.

"I'm coming too," Veronica announced, "you can handcuff me. Do whatever you have to, but I'm coming with her."

His posture changed as he feigned shock, being offended, "Kinda bossy, ain'tcha?"

His phone rang, claiming his attention by chiming a tune. Veronica saw his eyes, a brief flicker of fear, or maybe panic. He hurriedly reached for his pocket, answering it as he slammed the door shut again, latching it, leaving them in darkness without an explanation.

XXXXX

Michael stared at his phone screen, thumbs hovering over the letters. This shouldn't be this difficult. Just text her, ask to see her again. Given how difficult it was last time, it would probably be another week before they could even arrange a time to meet; if he wanted to see her, he needed to ask days in advance- he already missed her, so it was already too late. The longer he hesitated the longer before he could see her.

He sat on the balcony of his apartment, a bright Saturday morning. His coffee was getting cold beside him, and it wasn't nearly as enjoyable as the cup he'd shared with Sara; he couldn't blame the coffee itself though, it was the conversation that he missed. The company.

He finally typed a message and hit send.

"Hey, I'd love to see you again soon. Let me know when might work for you."

Now he had to wait. He wanted to officially ask her out; to be together in no uncertain terms, but that was something he needed to do in person. What they had now was undefined, and that didn't usually bother him, but something told him to be bolder, to take a leap of faith. Something told him to not let this one go.

XXXXX

Lincoln awoke to the sound of a train, blaring its horn and chugging along the tracks. He groaned, having gotten to bed late after another shift tending bar. It was Saturday morning and he actually had the weekend off. That never happened. The nature of his work meant that the weekends were usually the busiest days for him, but there was a new guy who'd just finished training. The owner wanted to test him out, throw him to the wolves, and see how he handled the weekend on his own. Lincoln was fine with that, but already didn't know what to do with himself.

He lived in a small town, hours away from Chicago where he'd grown up. He had to leave to figure out who he was, what he wanted to do with his life. Michael had taken a straighter path; college, job, apartment. Lincoln had floundered a bit more- barely finishing high school, taking odd jobs here and there (some of them more legal than others), couch surfing with friends until he'd overstayed his welcome, but now? He had an apartment; rundown as it was- it was his. He paid the bills and kept a job. He's the first to admit that his life wasn't particularly colorful or exciting; it was simple, and that's how he liked it.

He wondered about Michael, how he was doing. They hadn't talked in a while- not because of any disagreement or ill feelings towards each other, but they lived so differently, and living far apart made the drift away from each other feel unavoidable.

He should call, he told himself, but knew he'd rather start the day off slow. Make some coffee, maybe go for a walk.

He listened to the train still chugging by, remembered walking along train tracks as a kid. It was peaceful. The idea appealed to him; maybe later, he'd do that again. They may be different tracks, miles from home, but they were still a path to follow; manmade yet somehow wild, winding through the otherwise untouched forests and fields.

He sat up and rubbed his head, already torn between connecting with his brother, with anyone, and taking a day off, enjoying some solitude.

XXXXX

Sara threw herself against the door, pressing close to listen. She didn't know what she expected to hear, but every detail she could learn about their captor could be valuable. The difference between life and death.

Veronica appeared next to her, their heads close together as they listened through the metal.

"They're fine, boss, safe and sound and ready for pick up."

A pause.

Exasperated, "Another day? I thought the buyer was supposed to be here this afternoon. I got a load here too you know; I need to get this delivery to Dallas."

Sara pondered his lie. He'd told them in, "another day or two, they'd be out of his hands." Whatever was going to happen, it was sooner than he'd said- this afternoon being the soonest. Tomorrow being the latest.

"If I don't get the load there on time I could lose my day job. That's what keeps this whole operation going!"

She strained to listen for more but only heard disgruntled mumbles. She heard the click of the phone, approaching footsteps. She and Veronica both jumped back, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping.

When he opened the door, Veronica made a run for it.

The flash of her movement caught both Sara and their captor by surprise; but he was just as quick. Sara saw him pull the taser out and she leapt forward, yelling a warning, "Look out!"

Veronica blocked the first taser attempt, dodging it with a step back, but he lunged forward. She grabbed his wrist, the one holding the taser, using all her strength to keep it away from her.

Sara grabbed him from behind as he struggled, her arm wrapped around his neck- he was no taller than she was, so she had him in a choke hold of sorts. It was enough to knock him off balance, and Veronica was in the clear; she was now further outside the truck than any of them, closer to the door.

"Go!" Sara shouted, "just go!"

With dread, a familiar, electric shock jolted against her leg, and she came crashing down. She heard retreating footsteps, fast ones. She'd fallen in a way that she couldn't see the door and couldn't see Veronica.

Please get away, she prayed silently, motionless, please get away and come back for me.

XXXXXX

Adrenaline coursed through Veronica like electricity. Her feet pounded the ground outside the building as her mind took in her surroundings, making split second decisions of where to run. Which direction. He had to be coming after her; any minute he'd come out of the door and be on her heels. The thought caused a stir in her belly, a sinking, tingling feeling in her legs. She couldn't run fast enough to escape the fear, the dread.

The area around her was wooded; she thanked her lucky stars for that. She glanced back only once to look at the building, she'd need to be able to identify it later. To come back for Sara.

Calling it a warehouse would be a compliment, an upgrade. It wasn't very big; the semi they were in must've taken up a third of it. The outside was in rough shape, with a single, two-track driveway leading up to it. There were no road signs, no number on the building.

Nothing useful.

She did take note of the early morning sun, and which direction it was relative to her and the building, rising in the east. The sun and the building were both behind her now, the soft golden light illuminating the building from behind. She continued west, making a mental note, hoping that it would stick. Thinking clearly wasn't easy right now; she was running on instinct.

She ran into the woods and as far away as she could. If he was behind her, she didn't know it, didn't dare turn around and lose precious seconds of speed.

She cursed her work clothes as she leapt over roots and dodged branches. She cursed her shoes. They were flats thank God, but they weren't built for running. She flung them off in a second and kept running, barefoot, through mud and grass and rock.

XXXXX

Brad Bellick was driving up to meet T-bag; he liked to be there when the buyers arrived. He was in charge of this operation and didn't like leaving T-bag alone during the actual transaction. It's not that he didn't trust him but…he didn't trust him. This line of work didn't exactly attract the most ethical and honest people; Tbag could easily up and leave with the profit, and he didn't want to take that chance. Retirement was calling, and he'd be damned if someone was gonna take it from him.

He was on shift and in uniform, driving his State Trooper Dodge Charger up the winding roads towards the warehouse. It was a rough journey, but that was the point. The paved roads turned into a two-track as it wound further and further into the woods, escaping the prying eyes of society with every mile. He wasn't sure how T-bag managed to get a big rig up there, but that's why he kept him around.

He was good at the job.

It promised to be a warm day, the morning air already losing its chill as the sun rose quickly into the sky. Maybe when he got home after all this he'd crack open a beer, lounge out on the deck with his feet up. He sighed, already living in the future within his mind.

Movement caught his eye as he got closer to the warehouse, drawing him from his day-dream. He squinted and saw a figure, a woman, running towards him. She'd been in the woods, but was on the two-track now, running towards him, frantic.

He took in her appearance; black hair, green sweater, gray slacks. She was one of them, one that T-bag had captured.

Worthless piece of shit, he thought of his partner, taking back his earlier praise. He had one job: capture them and hold them still until the buyer could get there. He'd failed, and now Brad would have to pick up the slack.

He didn't like doing that.

He parked the car and put on his best sympathetic, concerned officer face. He stepped out as she approached, "Hey, whoa, whoa," he soothed as she panted, gasping for breath, "what's going on?"

"He," she gasped, "there's a guy," another breath, "he took us in his truck," a swallow, "my friend…my friend is still back there we have to help her."

"Are you hurt?" he asked, a hand on her shoulder.

"No, I'm fine," she lied.

He glanced her over and saw she was favoring one foot over the other, a trail of red under her left.

"Let me look at that," he asked, and she rested her hand on the car, lifting her foot.

"You've got a nasty cut there," he observed, silently cursing. That might lower how much they got for her; organ donors needed to be healthy, no risk for infection, "why don't we get you in here and cleaned up," he gestured towards the car.

"My friend, we have to go back and get her."

"Oh, I'll call another unit, they'll go get her," he replied with a hint of smugness.

She'd caught her breath now, breathing more steadily. Her eyes roamed his face, calculating, observing, "How will they know where to go? And why are you up here, did someone call you?"

He hadn't expected that; most people needing help didn't bother to question such things. He swallowed his mistake, covered it up with a dismissive attitude, "They'll get choppers in the air if they have to, they'll find her. Right now, we need to get that foot looked at and get you somewhere safe."

She hesitated, her green eyes wide and thinking.

"Come on, we're miles away from anything out here," he persuaded, "I can't leave you here like this. Come on," he repeated, opening the door, "let's get you back to town."

She got into the car.