Title: Heist.
Author: cheekymice AKA Ms Evil McEvil.
Rating: PG13
Beta: melanie39. Thanks Melly. waves
Disclaimer: I don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie.
Story: As requested Hero! In peril Ryan! Yeay! All in the title really. Set post finale.
Notes: Okay, you have suffered enough. Ya wanna know how Ryan die...um..what happened behind that door? Read on McDuff. :)

Heist

Chapter 6

Saul concentrated on the gun in his lap. There was no way that he was going back inside…no way. This was supposed to be an easy job, that was the only reason he'd let himself be talked into it. It was planned as a straight in-out affair, they wouldn't be greedy... just grab all the available money and run. That was until a rat-bastard squealed on them and turned it all to hell.

Saul knew the odds were stacked against him. The cops were not going to just let him walk but he had to force their hand and try.

No matter what happened he was not going back inside

Ryan struggled again in a last ditch effort to get his hands untied. He could feel that he was bleeding now and every twist and movement he made behind his back rubbed more skin off his wrists. He was getting desperate; he knew that he had to get the gag out of his mouth. He was not going survive all the shit in his life only to die from something as stupid as aspirating vomit into his lungs.

He'd awoken in pitch-blackness. When people said 'it was pitch black' he thought he knew what they meant but until he'd opened his eyes and seen absolutely nothing he'd never really encountered it.

He'd lost it. Normally he didn't panic easily but confusion made him freak. His hands were tied behind his back and a gag bit sharply into the corners of his mouth, forcing his tongue backwards against the roof of his mouth. He started to retch. He didn't know where the hell he was. He'd seriously thought that his recurring nightmare of being buried alive had come true. He'd hyperventilated, he'd kicked his legs out frantically and it was only when the metal toe caps of his boots clanged against the walls that it occurred to him where he was and he'd calmed down…slightly.

The gag in his mouth tasted foul. While he was out he'd obviously vomited again and God knows how he was still alive. Being on his side, unconscious and relaxed had undoubtedly saved him as but he knew that next time he might not be so lucky. The churning in his stomach was still there and this time he was awake. He knew that fear would make him tense up and the thought of that was making him breathe harder. He twisted his hands violently but whoever had tied them had used something strong and they'd knotted the bonds well. Ryan gave up with a groan of frustration.

His head pounded sickeningly and he breathed deeply through his nose to try and quell the building nausea he felt again. He could feel himself start to panic again, his heart starting to pump erratically in his chest and he could feel the rising hysteria take hold again. He forced himself to think logically…to do something. Ryan eventually inched his ass along the floor until he was up against the side of the vault. He moved his head along the wall, shifting slowly as he went. Apart from the rounded handles of what he assumed were safety deposit boxes there was nothing. He was about to give in when his cheek caught against the sharp metal corner of an opened drawer. He pulled his head back sharply in shock as the metal dug into his flesh but he also felt relief that he might be able to do something.

Ryan worked away; he found that by tilting his head he could catch the fabric against the open point of the drawer. He gouged his face a couple of times but on the tenth try the material held fast against the metal and he managed, by pulling his head up sharply, to pull the gag out of his mouth. He rested his head against the hot metal and tried to even out his breathing. Just the effort of doing that one small thing drained him. Ryan felt less nauseous now the gag was out of his mouth but no less claustrophobic.

The blackness was oppressive and triggered something, a faint familiarity, a distant memory in him that he didn't like.

Ryan tried to remember what had happened. His thoughts were so muddled. He wasn't sure how he'd ended up where he was. He remembered being on the floor and being sick and he remembered that he'd been told he was going to die. He knew he was in a bank vault but he didn't know how he knew that. He distinctly remembered a loud bang near his head but that was about it; everything else was missing. He couldn't even think why he'd been in the bank in the first place. He tried to come up with more but it was useless. Even the smallest details were missing. He couldn't remember the date, or even which month they were in.

What the hell had happened?

Why was he here?

There was something else too…something he couldn't grasp. Whenever he tried to catch the thought it would fly away again. It was important, really important, he remember but he didn't know why. Why was such a simple thing like memory eluding him?

He felt like a retard.

What he did know was he felt sick and dizzy, his hands were going numb and his head hurt like a bitch. He struggled with his hands again, hoping that he'd somehow managed to loosen them by his previous attempts. They held firm.

He kicked the cabinets again in frustration, yelling as he did so. No one came.

The heat was rising rapidly. Sweat ran down into his eyes and the salt from his skin made his eyes sting but there was nothing he could do other than blink. He sank down on the floor and curled up on his side. The air was thick and he was getting sleepy. He'd just try to sleep and maybe the sick feeling in his stomach would ease and his head might feel better when he awoke.

Maybe he'd be able to think more clearly.

His eyes drifted shut.

Maybe this wasn't real.

The thing was...he wasn't sure what was anymore.

TBC