A/N—Surprise, surprise.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

8:30 PM

Frederick Nolan's wife had been obnoxiously Christian. At times overbearing and with a 'holier-than-thou' attitude, she led weekly Bible studies and forced weekly church on her husband and children. He remembered her recurring speeches about what hell was like.

"It's a boiling pit of lava," she would say, eyes widened as she gathered her children in her lap, "but at times, freezing cold. Your soul freezes and you ache and you meet the devil face to face. But if you're good, and you trust in God, kids, I promise you won't ever have to go there."

The concept had always scared Nolan, and he'd done his best to be an all-around good guy. He went to church, prayed, did nice things for people. But as he came to he wondered if he'd done something wrong.

Light heat burned through his closed eyelids, and he shivered in the chill. He ached all over and wondered if he really was in hell. Had he even died? What had happened?

It came back in a split second. Rachel. Alec Rocher. Lake. Shooting. Agony. Yes. He was definitely dead.

He heard a clatter near him and wrenched his heavy eyelids open. They burned upon catching the fluorescent light above him and he moaned. His voice was thick with sleep as he tried to sit up. A shooting pain in his abdomen forced him horizontal again.

A heavyset woman in pale mint slacks and a button-down shirt bustled near the doorway, filling a bucket with ice and setting a stack of cups next to it. She moved next to her cart, where she extracted a bottle of some sort of medicine and began scooping pills into a cup. Nolan blinked at her and looked down.

He wasn't dead. His leg was a mountainous and pain-free lump under the covers, a wrapped horror. That bastard must have sprained it when he pushed me.

Funny. I hadn't even felt it.

He glanced down under the sheets at his waist and saw thick bandages enveloping his abdomen. That was what hurt the most. He wondered if he was on painkillers. He must be. A gunshot wound would be the worst, no doubt.

He cleared his throat and the nurse jumped. She smiled happily when she saw him conscious and bustled over, the pills and a glass of water jangling in her hands.

"Mr. Nolan, I see you're awake!" she cheered. "I can't tell you how much of a relief that is. You've been out for two hours, since your surgery."

"My surgery?"

"To remove the bullet. It was lodged in quite a precarious position, you know."

"Why…" Nolan rubbed his eyes. "Why am I alive? I thought a shot to the stomach would be fatal."

"It usually is," the nurse said uncomfortably. "Because the victim doesn't seek help in time. The pain is usually too crippling to bear and the individual may lose consciousness, like you did. Lucky for you, a young touring Pennsylvanian couple found you lying in the sand and one had a phone. They called an ambulance right away and we fixed you all up. How do you feel?"

"I hurt," he admitted honestly. His niece's face smiled into his mind. "Wait! My niece! Rachel! Where is she?"

"The missing girl?" the nurse repeated, crestfallen. "Oh. Well, sir, the police are looking and working off the clue she gave her sister, but it's unlikely she'll be fou--"

"I know who has her!" he yelled. "I know who has my niece and he's not going to let her go. I need to speak to a police officer, right now. They have to find her. She could die, or worse. Please, I can't let that happen to her."

The nurse waited. After a dilated sigh, she nodded. "Fine. Take your pills. I'll be right back."

"Is any of this supposed to look appetizing?" Lisa murmured, squinting at the menu in front of her.

"Surprisingly, it is," Jackson replied with a smirk. "Have you ever eaten anywhere outside of Taco Bell and Burger King?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," she replied pompously, raising her chin. "Applebee's is quite nice."

Rachel and Alex tittered as they too studied the options.

Alex cleared his throat and jabbed his thumb into the menu. "This, Rachel, is really amazing. Cilantro and pumpkin ravioli. I get it every Christmas, mostly because of the colors."

"But the steak's really good, too," Jackson piped in. Lisa jumped.

"Steak!" she cried, her eyes flashing through the menu. "Where?" He pointed.

"Rachel?" Alex prodded. She looked up. The waitress had returned with their drinks and was waiting with a bemused expression for them to order.

Rachel smiled sheepishly and handed her the menu. "The ravioli, please."

"I'll have the same," Alex nodded and turned to Rachel as Lisa and Jackson ordered. "I remember things, you know."

For some reason his words held the chill of an arctic storm, the intensity burrowing under her skin. She shuddered. "Wh—what?"

"I remember things about you. What you're like, what you like."

"Because you stalked me," she murmured, looking away as the waitress walked off.

"And dated you," he added. She scowled and sipped her drink, then wiped the liquid from her lips with her cloth napkin. The glass was rattling as she set it back down, her hand shaking in spasms of her own fright.

"Don't be so nervous," he said, touching her hand on the table. She jerked it away. He eyed it cautiously. "Like that. You know me. I know you. You don't need to be afraid."

Rachel felt her eyes widen and she drew back slightly. "I can't trust you," she whispered. "I just can't. But I'm working on it."

He sighed, toying with his napkin as he regarded her, carefully frustrated. "Fine," he sighed.

"So, what's the plan for later?" Jackson interrupted, relieving Rachel as he changed the subject.

Alex checked his watch and frowned. "By the time we get back it'll be too late to do anything except sleep. But tomorrow, if you want, we can finally give Rach and Leese the grand tour of the complex."

"What could there possible be to see?" Lisa scathed. "The arsenal?"

"Funny," Jackson cocked his head dismissively at her before moving on. "No. There's a gym and a library, to begin with. And the grounds."

"I find it hard to believe that you two would let us wander freely," Rachel snorted, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm hardly allowed to breathe alone anymore."

"Keep your voice down, Rach," Alex whispered warningly. "You're lucky we made it this far."

She glared at him, hating this feeling. Hating the bonds that were holding her down and impeding her freedom. She wanted to be alone but for the past three days she'd been anything but. The worst part was that the bond came in fleshy form, something that she could physically struggle against, Alex Reisert. That made it worse. If it had been something less visible, something less opaque, she wouldn't have felt so fidgety. But it was knowing that one way or another she could possibly break free of him that did her in.

"Sure," she snapped. "Lucky."

"And yes," Jackson continued, oblivious to the fire sparking between the younger couple. "With time, you and Lisa will be allowed to roam without supervision. When we feel that we can trust you."

Rachel was sick of thinking that she could infringe upon Alex's trust within time. Sure, if she never stopped fighting, he'd have his eye on her every moment of the day. But if she behaved like a docile little canary, she'd never break her cage because Alex would be so infatuated with her he still wouldn't leave her alone.

Honestly, she felt bad for Lisa. The girl really had no chance. If she left the complex and never looked back, she'd be in jail with little chance of freedom anyway, and if she stayed, well—that was self-explanatory. Rachel could only be relieved that she was dealing with Alex, not Jackson. Alex wasn't quite as seasoned, quite as sharpened as his boss.

It made her sick. She felt dizzy with desire to go home. It was one thing to discover that her ex-lover was really alive, but it was another entirely to be held captive by him without a chance of leaving.

She tried to block out the thoughts of home, was trying to become a new Rachel completely, but small memories kept floating back into her head. She wondered what her family would be doing now.

Looking for me, she realized with an anxious pang. Because I've ruined their holiday. They'll be out all night, still searching and talking with the police, and Chris and Gina won't get a Christmas morning. They won't want one, but there won't be one regardless. I ruined it for them.

Rachel reflected on Christmases past. Midnight mass, Christmas cookies, a huge dinner. In the morning, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, all visiting for breakfast and to open presents. The anticipation. The warmth.

And even if it does happen, I won't be there, she thought, sinking further into depression. I'm stuck here with no holiday, and even the memory of Christmas will be shit for my family forever. It will mean two things: the disappearance and assumed death of Rachel, and the assassination of uncle Nolan. And both of these were my fault, because I made the mistake of falling in love with Dan Gregory. With Alex Reisert. With Alec Rocher.

Rachel didn't realize the small little whimper she emitted, but when Alex turned to look at her he frowned in worry. "You all right?"

"I need to use the restroom," she forced out, beginning to stand. Alex grabbed her wrist.

"The food will be coming soon," he reminded tersely, plastering a smile over his face. Sympathetic boyfriend, yeah right. What he really means is, 'I don't want you going alone to the bathroom because I can't trust you not to do something rash but I can't go with you because how would that look?'

"Alex, let her go," Jackson yawned, annoyed. "Cut the cord already. Jesus."

Alex's eyes flashed uncertainty and Rachel entered a death match with him. Behind his pupils, however, she knew that two separate parts of his brain were battling it out for his approval. "Fine," he snapped. "But hurry up."

As she pushed away from him and began stumbling to the bathroom, she heard his voice clearly and coldly behind her. "Remember, Rach." She turned.

Alex's face was icy, yet a strange sort of calm. Like the calm in the eye of a hurricane. "Fool me once, shame on you."

She tried to step forward, but her feet were frozen in place. She slowly twisted her face back to see him as he finished. A smirk was crawling up his face.

"But fool me twice…shame on me."