A/N-Sorry about that double posting a chapter back. I meant to go back and delete it after I'd accidentally done it, but then my computer froze and I shut it down, ultimately forgetting my initial goal. :) So thanks to all you amazing reviewers and here's the next chapter.

Rachel's voice faded as a loud twig snap behind her alerted her to a presence. She spun around, ears perking up and heart racing to see...a bird. A pheasant, to be exact. Her father used to hunt them. I hated when he did that. Sighing and nearly laughing at her paranoia, she turned back around to keep on walking. And promptly screamed.

"Be quiet and you won't get hurt," a thick, husky voice ordered. Rachel tried to run as a wide pair of hands encircled her waist, pulling her against this stranger's body. Now she wasn't facing him, but she'd got a decent glimpse when she'd turned around and bumped into his chest.

He was tall and thin, with a thick shock of blonde hair that flopped into his face, partially covering one of his two piercing green eyes that were set back in an angled, pale face. The part that terrified her the most was nearly tied with his creepy eyes, but beat them by a hair. He had a long, angry red scar that trailed from his forehead to his left eye, then skittered off down the side of his chin. It went down to his neck but was partially hidden by a thick black turtleneck.

She'd been ordered not to scream, but even if she could she wouldn't have been able to, the fear was so constricted in her throat. Her mind flooded with nightly news images of raped and abducted, then murdered teenage girls, and she thought back briefly to what she had ever done to deserve this.

What the hell is going on here?

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Alec's hands were wrapped tightly enough around her body that he could feel her diaphragm rise and fall with inevitably constricted sobs. He had a few choice weapons stashed in his coat pockets and on his beltloop, but he hoped not to have to use them. Don't think I'll need to.

"Who are you?" she whispered, drawing in a huge, rickety breath. Don't exert yourself, sweetheart. "What do you want?"

"Now, princess, let's not get too far ahead of ourselves," he muttered in her ear. He felt her cringe and then stiffen as his breath blew off her small hoop earrings.

"Don't call me 'princess,'" she snapped. Her tone shocked him. Maybe you have more fight in you than I'd thought.

"I don't believe you're in the position to be making demands...kitten," he sneered. Two can play this game. "Let's get down to business, sh all we? I want something from you and if I don't get it, I'm sorry to say that Christopher dies."

Rachel let out a long shudder. "What did you just say? How-how do you-"

"Know your brother's name? Why, Rachel, its simple. I've been watching you for a month now. I know everything there is to know about Rachel Redford."

She tensed and Alec grinned. "Do what you want, just don't hurt him." As if an afterthought, she added a quiet, "Please." Parents do quite the hackjob in teaching manners today, don't they?

"What if I told you that what I wanted was...you?" Alec annunciated this suggestively as he slid his hand down her neck, following the hem of her woolen coat down to her waist.

She didn't cry, but he sensed a break soon. "Just-just leave him alone."

He laughed. "Its okay, Rach. You're not my type, but I find it comforting that you'll so easily put out. Anyway, I still need you, but not in that way."

He felt a bit of her tension melt away. "What are you saying?"

"For now, all you need to do is come with me. I'll explain it once we're out of here."

"Are you going to kill me?" she hissed, sucking in breath through clenched teeth. "Because if you are, do it now and get it over with."

Look at our society. Because of CSI, every girl thinks each man who happens to kidnap her is a murderer or rapist. Jesus Christ. I'm no fucking martyr, but why do I have to be some bad guy? He smirked. This will be easy. She has so little fight left in her now, the suicidal whore.

"I don't want to kill you. I need you. But I'll explain it later. Don't worry, when our business is done, you can go home and I'll leave you alone forever."

"Why should I believe you?"

Damn, this was getting tiresome.

He sighed. "First of all, I don't lie. Its immoral. Second of all, you can probably feel it on your back? That hard thing-s'cuse me-hard metallic thing, is a gun. I won't go into specifics, as I know you've never laid a finger on one in your life so you couldn't care less. Its in my jacket. If you don't believe me, I'd be happy to demonstrate its uses."

"You said you wouldn't kill me," she whispered.

"I wouldn't have to. There are plenty of ways of excruciatingly injuring a person without actually killing them. Your knees would be first, I think. Ever been shot in the knee? No? Hurts like hell and nine out of ten times you don't get movement back. Then I'd move on to your ankles, perhaps, your feet, hands, whatever. Makes no difference to me, all I need is you alive. And guess what? No one would even investigate the sound because, as you can see, its pheasant season. So, shall we begin?" he reached for his pistol.

"No," she interjected quickly. So she is human. "I believe you."

"We have an accord, then?"

He heard her pause, and then speak quietly, flatly, "Yes. I just have one more question."

He sighed and began to relinquish his vice grip. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to know if you'd ever had your knees hurt." With that, she stretched and kicked him swiftly in his left kneecap. He crumpled to the ground and cursed his reflexes. She scrambled away, running about four feet before scooping up a handful of snow, dirt, and ice from the ground. As he rose she unexpectedly hurled it at him.

Bitch! The disgusting mess hit his eyes with perfect precision and before he could blink it was inside. He hollered in pain, blinded temporarily.

I'll kill her. I'll wring her fucking neck when I get ahold of her.

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Rachel ran with shocking speed for someone who avoided physical exercise as a rule.

He can't catch me. God, don't let him. I'll die.

She heard him stumble to his feet as his eyes obviously watered themselves clean and urged her legs to move faster. Her feet felt like lead as she stumbled over the wet snow that clung to her boots and only made them heavier.

She made the cliched mistake of glancing briefly behind her and saw him already rising and closing the gap between them.

"Help me, somebody, please!" she screamed desperately. Please, Chris, turn down the tv so you can hear me!

The man was less than two feet away as Rachel's chest tightened. Her hopes were dashed half a yard from the house as he tackled her to the ground.

Rachel's first concerns were her ribs as he tumbled atop her. Her next was her wrist, which landed horribly between her body and the stiff ground. She heard it snap as her weight pressed down on the fragile area.

"Get off!" she screamed at him.

His eyes were bright red from the natural mixture she'd hurled at him. They flashed with fury, and watered with pain. He withdrew a long knife from his beltloop while still managing to keep her legs pinned to the ground with his knees. She fought with her arms until he slid the thin, glinting blade against her jugular. Rachel was no doctor, but she knew that if either of them moved wrong in the slightest, she was dead.

Her arms fell limp at her sides as he wheezed, "You have five seconds...to tell me what the hell you were doing back there."

"I...I was trying to save my life," she whispered matter-of-factly.

"No," he snapped, snatching up her collar and pulling her up so that her face was inches from his. The scar seemed to pop out, nearly touching her face and she made a small noise and tried to twist her head away. He gripped her chin. "What you were doing was risking your brother's life, not to mention your own. I told you, I've been watching you and, while I'll admit that your life is pathetic, I didn't peg you as suicidal."

She tried to pull her face away but he just scowled and threw her back to the ground, her head knocking hard against a thick layer of ice.

The man gripped her throat and squeezed tightly. Rachel used her reserved oxygen for a moment until she was completely drained of breath. "I can't-I can't...can't breathe..."

"Does this make things easier for you, Rach?" he asked softly, his eyes playfully dancing with mirth now. "Does this break it down simpler? Can you understand now?"

She pulled tightly at his hands as her head began spinning.

"Answer me."

She couldn't, her face muscles resetricting as she tried to pull out of his grasp.

"ANSWER ME."

She managed to bob her head a little, hoping it would convince him. Just please stop, let me go...I want to go home...

He let her go and Rachel slumped to the ground, pressing her cheek to the ice as she sucked in frantic breath.

"Now lets get one thing straight," he hissed seriously. "I'm the one with the power to alter you and your brother's lives. Me. Not you. So stop trying. You don't come with me, I kill you. Both of you. Easy as that."

She shut her eyes and didn't face him.

"Now," he stood, brushing his hands against his jeans. "We are going to take a little walk to my car. You are going to get in without protestation and we are going to take a drive. When we get to our destination, you'll receive further instruction. Understood?"

Rachel nodded bitterly and stood weakly on her aching legs. The man took her arm and she whimpered as pain shot up to her elbow. He frowned a bit sarcastically and grabbed the other one. They began a brisk walk back into the woods.

Sleep...I need to sleep...I'm screwed. What in the world am I going to do?