"Well, they can't have gotten far, we're in a open building, for Christ's sake." Graham's right-hand man swept his long blonde hair off his face and turned to the man standing, gun cocked, at the top of the stairs.

"I'm telling you, they came up here." The man cast his eyes across the unfamiliar surroundings. "Where are we, anyway?"

"Tucker's slaughterhouse. " the blonde man replied, "Been empty for the last few months. Look, you go up to the next floor -- I'll just check this level out." He turned and wrinkled his nose. "Let's just get this done. It smells like my grandmother's dog in here." The second man spun on his heel and moved silently to the next flight of stairs.

"What do you mean, we're locked in?" Martha asked Aaron for the second time.

"I mean, Martha, that we are locked in -- my answer hasn't changed since the last time you asked me." Aaron stopped pacing round the small cold room and looked at her. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to snap, but this isn't over yet -- please just let me listen." He returned to his vigil by the iron door, his ear pressed against it.

"Can you hear anything?" Martha whispered in his ear, her hair softly touching his rapidly glowing cheek.

"Please, Mrs Logan, I need to concentrate."

"I was just aski..."

"Martha, please." Aaron usually had the patience of a saint, but there was something about this woman that made him lose all sense of reality. And as nice as it was having her in such close proximity, his main objective was to get the two of them out of this mess alive, and he couldn't do that as long as he was aware of the faint smell of strawberries that seemed to eminate from her hair. He gently but firmly took her by the arm and led her to the far side of the room, if a room that small could have a far side. "Please, just sit there while I see if I can hear anything." He gestured to some crates that were stacked by the wall, and with a deep sigh she sat down.

Aaron quickly resumed his position at the door and felt his way around each of the sides. This wasn't looking good; there was, as Martha had earlier pointed out, no handle, and no visible means of an exit. And for all he knew, there could be 50 hostiles with flame throwers on the other side of the door just waiting to open it. No, things were not looking good at all.

"Robbins! Down here!" the blonde-haired man called to his associate as he pushed his way through the metal hooks suspended from the ceiling. "What is it?" he shouted, as he, too, came down the stairs to join his associate.

"I've found them, look!" He pointed a grubby hand at the door.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" His companion drew his weapon and headed toward the door.

"No."

"No?"

"Look." The taller of the two men pointed to the small object affixed to the wall beside the door, then began to laugh cruelly. "From what I can tell, a bullet in the head would be too quick for these two, and far too easily traced back to certain people who don't want to be traced." He headed toward the thermostat, and with a flick of his wrist, turned the switch to its lowest setting. The low buzz of electricity echoed round the room as the still active freezer control kicked into action. "This way it's an accident...a terrible, terrible accident."

With one final look at the door, the blonde-haired man laughed and ushered Robbins down the stairs. Robbins took a last look at the door. He didn't know who was in there; his job was on a need-to-know basis only. But he couldn't help the small flicker of guilt as the door disappeared from view. Whoever was in there was going to die a slow and horrible death.

"What is it, Aaron?" Martha asked from her precarious perch on the crates.

"Shhh! I can hear something." He unholsetered his weapon and took two steps back from the door, his aim calm and ready. He waited; a minute turned to two, then to five. Nothing. Silence.

"Aaron, please -- you're scaring me. What is going on?" Martha again queried, her voice betraying a small tremor.

"I think they've gone," he replied, and slowly put his gun away. He turned to look at her and immediately felt a rush of sympathy for her. She sat rigidly, arms hugging herself, and her face was a picture of sheer terror. He took another step towards her.

"It's alright, Martha; we're safe." Slowly, he knelt beside her trembling figure and gently placed his hands on her crossed arms. "They've gone." Martha seemed to uncurl herself from her uptight posture, and began to look more relaxed.

"Are you sure?" she shakily replied.

"They would have come in if they could have. We're safe for the moment."

She quickly stood up and closed the small distance separating them. "For the moment? What if they come back? What if we're not found?" Her eyes asked a million questions that he just did not have the answer to. Without thinking, he stood and placed his hands on either side of her face and gently stroked her elegant cheekbones. "I said I'd keep you safe, Martha, and I will." Slipping his hands around her slender neck he slowly pulled her towards him.

Martha felt his strong hands slipping around her, and for one brief moment, she forgot everything. Forgot they had nearlly been gunned down by God only knew who, forgot that only a few hours ago she had watched one of her dearest friends being lowered in the ground, forgot that they were trapped, with no apparent way out. She just felt her body slowly relax into his embrace. After a few blissful seconds, she pulled away. Aaron, puzzled, stared at her. It was stupid and she knew it, but the one thing she hadn't forgotten was that she had lost one of her shoes. She could feel the cold tile of the floor beneath her, and it was the oddest feeling. She wasn't sure if it was her anxiety, but she could have sworn the ground was slowly growing colder beneath her foot.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Logan?" Ever the professional, Aaron, without noticing, had slipped back into the role of her protector.

"I'm fine; I'm just a little cold," she replied.

"Here, take this." Aaron deftly shrugged out of his suit jacket, and amidst her protestations, slipped it around her shoulders. He stepped back and stifled a chuckle. She looked so...so...the only word he could think of was adorable. Standing there with only one shoe, her stockinged foot slightly lifted off the floor and tucked behind her other leg, her hair rain-soaked and plastered against her face, and his jacket nearly swamping her...Yes, although he could never voice it, adorable was the perfect word for her.

"Okay, let's find a way out of this place, huh?" And with that, the thought had gone from his head, and he scanned the room looking for any obvious sign of escape.

"Dammit," Aaron swore, and kicked the iron door that separated them from the world outside. It had been well over an hour, and he was no closer to finding a way out for them both. There were no windows, barely any light, and even though he had forfeited his jacket to the woman with him, he knew it would make little difference -- the room had been, and was, growing steadily colder. He kicked the door again and cursed, watching as a plume of smoke seemed to weave its way out his mouth. This was not good. The room he had pulled them into, the one he had dragged Martha into with him was quite obviously a storage freezer, and though he didn't know how, it was active. Slowly the room's temperature was dropping. In a gesture of desperation, and because he had run out of all options for a possible escape, he hit the door hard with his fist, gasping as the combination of the pain and the cold made him yet again curse out loud. Martha looked up from the corner she had curled up in. She could tell by his actions that Aaron was losing hope of them ever getting out of this mess. She had never seen him so impatient, and so...so...well, out of control. This, more than their situation, was scaring her. She was so used to seeing Aaron as infallible, her knight in shining armour. Watching him as frustrated as this was frightening. She watched again as he struck the door with his bare hands, and jumped to her feet as he cried out in pain, clutching his hand to his chest.

"Let me see."

"I'm fine."

"I said, let me see." She reached out for his freezing hand and took it in her own. He hadn't broken the skin, but she could see the telltale signs of a bruise beginning to appear. After a minute of gently stroking it, he pulled it back from her slender grasp. "It's fine."

Martha could feel herself slowly bubbling up with anger. "It's obviously not fine. Kicking and punching that slab of steel is not going to get us out of here, Aaron; it's only going to hurt you. And as much as I know you think this is your fault, it isn't, and hurting yourself is not going to make things better. I can cope with being locked in here, I can cope with the cold. But what I cannot cope with is watching you in pain. Do you understand me?"

He looked over at her, shocked, and saw the look of determination and anger in her eyes. My God, he thought, Charles had seriously underestimated his wife. From what he was seeing, Martha was made of stronger stuff than they had all thought. If the prospect of dying in a freezer with an aging Secret Service Agent was scaring her, she was certainly hiding it well. Indeed, if the look in her eye was anything to go by, she was more worried about him and his pain than her own.

"I'm sorry. It's just, I promised you I'd get you out of this, and I just can't see how." What was it about this woman? He had protected and served senators, even presidents, but when he looked at her face, he could feel his own eyes welling up. "I made you a promise." He said it as if that said it all.

Slowly she closed the gap between them again, and reached up to touch his face. Feeling the stubble under her fingers, she gently stroked his cheek. "Aaron, I know if you could move heaven and earth to save me, you would, but in this instance, you can't. But just knowing you would if you could makes it all alright. But we have to accept this. We are trapped. No one knows where we are; no one is coming to help. If I am going to spend my last moments in this room, I am glad they are with you, and no one else. Please stop now, Aaron. Stop."

Aaron looked at his watch: 7:30 pm. They had been trapped in the freezer for going on four hours now. After Martha's impassioned speech, they had both retreated to the corner and sat shoulder to shoulder on the hard, cold floor. "I'm sorry, Martha, this is all my..." Before he could finish his apology, she had reached over and place a perfectly manicured finger over his lips.

"Shh. Please, Aaron, this is not your fault. If we weren't in here, we'd be lying in the street with a bullet in our heads by now." Slowly, and with some difficulty, she turned so she was kneeling in front of his body. "At least this way I get to spend some time with my favorite agent." She gave him a half smile and was pleased when he reciprocated. "I'm cold." She gave a half laugh. "How 'bout you?"

"You're amazing."

Martha literally shook her head, not sure she had heard him correctly. "I'm sorry?"

"I said, you are amazing. I mean, here we are, about to die, and you can still find a way to make me smile."

Martha sat up on her knees and gazed intently into his eyes. "I know that we are close to impending doom." There it was, that little smile again that made his heart race. "But there is a better way to keep warm." Shuffling closer towards him, she gently nudged open his knees and fitted her body into the space in between his legs. "Hold me, Aaron."

"Hold me, Aaron." Three little words -- that was all it took to shake his world to the very core. Almost without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace. She had been trembling, but it seemed as if the second he took possesion of her body, she stopped and relaxed completely into his embrace. They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, his arms wound tight around her and her legs hooked possesively over his knees. Her head was buried in the crook of his shoulder, and he could feel her sweet breath against his neck...her breath. Was it his imagination, or was it becoming faster... almost little gasps?

"Aaron. We haven't got long." He tightened his hold on her and began to protest. "No, Aaron, I can feel it. I'm so cold, I almost can't feel my body. But it's strange... I can't feel my own body, but I can feel yours."

Again, he increased his hold on her and firmly kissed the top of her sweet-smelling hair. "I'm here, Martha."

"I know you are, and that's what I want to tell you. You always have been there. And I don't just mean on "that" day. Although, you were the one person that got me through it -- that made me believe I could. You've always been there, even when you weren't." With some difficulty, she lifted her head from the crook of his shoulder and looked intently into his eyes. "After Charles was taken away at the airfield, you were there. After I got back to the Ranch, and was all alone in my room, you were there. In the car, on the way to one of my dearest friends' funeral, you were there. And then finally, at the funeral, you were actually there. When I saw your face, I felt ashamed, ashamed because I was burying my dear, dear friend, and all I could think of when I saw you was that you were there. You've always been with me, Aaron, and I think its only now that I'm beginning to realize it. No matter how cloudy and bleak my day was, when I felt you with me, the sun broke through the clouds and shined down on me." She gently placed both her hands on his cheeks and slowly reached forward to place a chaste, but oh-so-sweet kiss against his dry lips. "You were always there, and now you are here, and I can't go without you knowing you are the most important person in my life, and you have been for a long while." Pulling away from his face she looked deeply again into his eyes and then resumed her earlier positon in the crook of his neck. Her breath now coming in short shallow gasps.

Aaron sat holding her in his arms, not knowing what to say. If truth be known, he was still struck dumb from her kiss. Even though their lips were dry and cold, it had sent a heatwave coursing throughout his body. She was his life, too -- he had known that from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. He had sworn an oath to protect and serve, and internally he had sworn to keep her from harm. And now as she lay in his arms all he could think of was that he had failed her. He pressed his lips again to her silken gold hair and slowly but very deliberately began to talk.

"The first time I saw you was at the retreat. You had come with Charles to visit President Palmer on some state matter, and I was crossing the grounds with them when you came on a horse, galloping over the hill. You stopped a few feet from us and took off your helmet. I remember watching you, thinking you were some sort of mirage, you were so beautiful, so happy. You laughed and slid from the horse into your husbands arms, and I remember thinking I would have given every experience in my life to be able to hold you like that. You smiled at me -- do you remember? and walked back to the stables." He laughed slightly. "You know, I think that was the first and only time I ever took my eyes off the President. I watched you walk the horse back until you disappeared. Then when you came to the White House, I vowed I would never let a moment's harm come to you. Of course, I had heard the rumors that you were unstable, even insane. But all I saw was this chrysallis trapped in its cocoon, unable to blossom into a butterfly. You so often seemed unhappy, and to hear you now say those things to me...makes me well...You are the most important person in my life, too, Martha, and I can't go without you knowing that, too." He stopped and waited for some kind of response. Nothing. He had been so caught up in what he was saying that he hadn't noticed that her grip on him had slackened, and her head now hung limply on his chest.

"MARTHA!" he shouted, pulling her unresponsive body to the floor. She fell from his arms to the floor, and with the specks of ice touching her beautiful face, she looked just like a porcelain doll. He tilted back her head and opened her mouth. lowering his lips to hers he prayed to his God. Nothing. After trying this over and over, he eventually slumped to the floor beside her, gathering her in his arms, and awaited his fate.

"Agent Pierce...Agent Pierce? Can you hear me?" He awoke to find himself in a moving vehicle, sirens blaring... an ambulance! He was alive. "Where am I?" he whispered; the words hurt his throat.

"On our way to the hospital. Don't worry -- you'll be fine." The CTU agent looked down at him with sympathetic eyes. "We found the limo, and after sweeping the area, finally found you and Mrs. Logan locked in the room."

Mrs. Logan...Martha... Martha...He scanned the ambulance and saw he was the only one lying on a gurney.

Finding the strength from God only knows where, he lifted himself up into a sitting position. "Marth...I mean Mrs. Logan... where is she? Is she alright? She was unconscious." The words came out in a shout that made the CTU agent jump in his seat. "Please, where is she? You have to tell me."

The CTU agent gently pushed Aaron back onto the bed. "Please, Agent Pierce, you've been through a lot; you need to rest."

"If you don't tell me where Martha is, right now, I swear to God I will stop this ambulance and look for her myself. Now, where is she?"

The CTU agent looked down at him, a sad expression beginning to appear on his face. Aaron felt his heart sink into his shoes.

"I'm sorry, Agent Pierce. Mrs. Logan is..."