Chapter Three

Jaime was momentarily struck dumb, frozen in shock, as she stared at the unattached leg. What had they done to Steve? Before she could regain her senses, two men grabbed her roughly from behind, nearly pulling her off her feet. Jaime felt the unmistakable threat of a gun barrel at the back of her neck and another pressed directly to her head.

The original gunman turned and slid the shelf behind him to one side, revealing a metal door. He turned a key in the lock and pushed it aside as well. A wall of thick, heavy brick was next, with a keypad where there should've been a doorknob. He quickly punched in a code and Jaime heard the sounds of a pulley system and large gears grinding as the heavy door slowly creaked open. One more metal door, one last key, and a small cell was opened. Steve sat on the floor, glaring at the gunman who blocked his view of the people behind him.

"Make some room, Austin. You've got company." There really was nowhere for him to move to, but there was just enough space beside him for another person - provided it was a small person. The gunman stepped aside and before Jaime or Steve could react to seeing each other, Jaime was shoved into the cell and the series of doors slammed, ground and clanged shut behind her.

"Jaime..." Steve said softly, "I'm so sorry. I didn't hear them coming and then I got hit. I couldn't even yell to warn you." Jaime was still on her feet, and Steve could hear her kicking at the door, growing more and more frustrated. "We can't break it. Believe me, I tried."

"With one leg?" Jaime asked, continuing to kick in spite of the growing pain in her implanted leg.

"Huh? My legs are fine."

Jaime's efforts slowed, then ceased, and she sank to the floor, overwhelmed by exhaustion and pain. "They - they showed me - your leg," she said. "It had a tracking device."

Steve moved as close as he could to the wall, trying to make more room, but it was impossible. They sat side by side, legs bent slightly at the knees for lack of space, their arms and shoulders pressing hard against the walls and each other.

"They were playing mind games with you, Sweetheart," Steve told her, "Trying to psych you out. Rudy said they have the basic technology. That must be one of the pieces they built."

Jaime sighed. "It worked. I froze." She couldn't see in the pitch blackness, but if he said he had both legs, of course she believed him. "I should've fought. I should've...done something."

"You'd have only ended up with a bullet in your brain."

"Probably better than what they'll do to us now," Jaime said, her voice quivering. "We're sitting ducks for whatever games they wanna play, and whatever comes after -"

"We can't think like that, or we're already beat," Steve told her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, which made just enough room for her to lean into him and rest her head on his chest. "We can do this, Jaime. We'll get out of here, if we work together." He just hadn't figured out the 'how' part yet. "Are you hurt?" he asked her.

"No. Well, they didn't hurt me, but my leg isn't working right."

"What's wrong? Is it the implant leg?"

"Yeah. At first it only hurt if I really used it, like when I jumped to the second floor window. It wobbled just a little, then hurt like hell."

"I don't s'pose kicking the door helped much," Steve observed.

"I thought if I could just break it...the door, I mean. What about you? Did they -?"

"They took the chip from my arm, but my legs are alright, and I've still got my power cell. I'm ok." They were close enough that Steve could feel Jaime's leg against his - the leg with the tracking implant - and it was shaking violently, while the rest of her body was still. Is she rejecting the implant like she rejected the bionics? Steve wondered, knowing he couldn't let Jaime feel his fear.

"We can't depend on anyone coming to get us," he told her softly. "There's a security breach - a leak - there has to be. They know too much. We'll have to do this ourselves."

"Steve, listen! What's that noise?"

They both listened intently to a barely audible sound, similar to air leaking out of a tire. "Oh no," Steve said, before he could stop himself.

"What is it?"

Steve unwedged his other arm from against the wall and wrapped it tightly around Jaime, pulling her almost into his lap, needing the closeness just as much as she was about to.

"Steve?"

"Sweetheart, it's gas." The sound grew louder and more threatening, and Steve was already becoming groggy, beginning to lose consciousness. The last thing he heard before blacking out was Jaime's voice - distant and weak as she faded too:

"I love you, Steve."