Myself asks: For Whumptober, No. 30 NOTE TO SELF: DON'T GET KIDNAPPED. Big thanks to Sineater and MariaShades for the help and read through.

Characters: Grandma, Scott, OC's

Warnings: Burns, Knife wound, Unconsciousness

'What do you think, Scotty? Want to help me make some apple pies for when your Grandpa gets back with your parents, John and maybe even your new brother?'

'Yay! Yes please!'

Ruth chuckled at his enthusiasm.

After the clinginess and distress Scott had displayed when John was born, his parents had decided that he'd need a distraction for Virgil. And there was nothing better to distract the five-year-old than planes or cooking. So cooking it was.

She tied the apron she'd made for him around his waist to protect his clothing and stood him on a chair. Scott bounced happily beside her as she measured out flour and butter in the special bowl and set it in front of her eldest grandson.

'You remember how to rub the butter into the flour, Scotty?'

'Yes, Grandma.'

She watched him enthusiastically attack the mixture for a second and chuckled, turning to switch on the oven and measure more flour and butter into another bowl.

They stood side by side and for the shortest beat they rubbed butter into flour to make breadcrumbs in silence. It didn't last long because Scott hated silence and he soon began to fill the air with his latest passion, which was the promised trip to England to see his other Grandparents once Virgil was strong enough to make the journey.

Once the flour resembled breadcrumbs Ruth poured some of the measured ice water into Scott's bowl and held it firmly while he enthusiastically mixed it in, then she mixed her own. They put their bowls to one side and Ruth generously floured the surface and tipped the pasty balls out.

This was Scott's second favourite part. Kneading the doughs gently until smooth always made Scott concentrate on what he was doing, and Ruth secretly adored his little frown and the tip of his tongue sticking out as his small hands pushed at the dough.

By the time the doughs were ready there were small flour handprints all over the place. Ruth wrapped the balls up and put them in the fridge for an hour and took in the mess. Scotty was such a neat little boy yet even he had flour in his hair and prints on his jeans but it took no time at all to clean the sides.

She began to get the apples ready. Scott climbed onto the now clear surface and watched as his grandmother peeled apples and cut them into thick slices, putting them into her vintage special edition Range heavy cast iron pan to gently simmer with lots of sugar and cinnamon. They sat at the table drinking hot chocolate while the kitchen filled with the aroma of the apple mixture.

They'd not long sat down when Star and Jess began barking. Ruth frowned. The others were not due back for several hours, and neither of the dogs would bark at friends…That thought occurred to her the same time the dogs suddenly stopped.

Ruth carefully put her cup down and turned to Scott. He was happily drinking, with a chocolate moustache that under normal circumstances would have made her grab the camera. Instead, she quickly wiped his mouth and helped him down. Scott must have realised something was wrong because he was suddenly quiet. Ruth opened the pantry door and they stepped in.

'Scotty, you ok?'

'Yes, Grandma. What's going on?'

'I don't know, but I want you to hide here behind the flour and not come out until I or your parents or your Grandpa tell you to. Ok?'

'Ok.'

Solemn blue eyes looked earnestly into hers, and she sniffed as she pulled one of the sacks of flour to hide Scott as best as possible. There was another exit from the pantry straight outside, but she was hopeful it wouldn't come to that.

Taking a position beside the stove and stirring the apples gently cooking, Ruth thought hard about what she could do to defend them. Thank goodness she was in the kitchen, there were plenty of things here that she could use…

The sound of the door being rattled gave her pause and Ruth straightened. She was a seasoned USAF medic. She had this.

Keeping her back to the door Ruth kept stirring, listening to two – no, three sets of footsteps. One disappeared upstairs, one into the living room and one kept coming. She waited until she could hear them enter the kitchen. She did not turn around.

'Can I help you?'

'Just stay outta my way, Grandma.'

'That's Mrs Tracy to you, young man. If you're here to rob us I'm afraid that you won't find much. We're simple farm folk.'

'Right. We're here to rob you.'

Ruth froze. She didn't like the tone of voice the man used. Then he spoke again and her heart absolutely stopped.

'Where is he?'

She swallowed. How did they know that Scott and her were alone? How long had they been watching? Why – what could they possibly want with her grandson? It wasn't as if they were rich or anything like that, although Jeff was well known. Maybe that was it. All of this flashed through her mind fast, and she knew not to pause too long.

'I don't know what you mean. I'm home baking while everyone's at the hospital.'

'Cut the crap, Grandma. We've been watching, we know you and the kid are home alone.'

There was a click and a hand on her shoulder. Ruth steeled herself as the grip tightened and she knew what was going to happen. Sure enough, the man squeezed harder and pulled to spin her around.

He wasn't prepared for the hot pan to smack him in the face.

Hot cast iron crunched bone. Ruth hadn't aimed at his nose but at the side of his head, and the man dropped without a sound. She barely spared a glance at the burn to the man's cheek, and she had absolutely no time – or compulsion – to treat the hot caramel-apple mixture that would be leaving second-degree, possibly even third-degree burns as it still bubbled over the man's neck, shoulder and chest.

Ruth had kept a firm hand on the pan so it didn't clatter, and now she put it down gently but quickly but she didn't have time to do anything further than move away from the stove so she was beside the countertop as she watched the next person arrive.

The gun came into view first. It was solidly held and Ruth knew that she'd have to be careful. The man that followed was not a man but a woman. She lowered the gun a little when she Ruth, and she used it to gesture Ruth away from the stove. Ruth sidestepped as the woman entered. She didn't spare her partner a glance but narrowed eyes full of anger observed Ruth.

'Where is he? Your grandson. Where is he?'

'He's not here.'

The woman snorted and once more gestured for Ruth to move further away from the stove. They circled each other until the woman could check the room and Ruth watched as she opened the door to the pantry and quickly looked. She was obviously satisfied as she came back into the room and once more pointed to move Ruth towards the door.

'If he's not in here then he must be out there.'

Leaving Scott in the house with another person was not going to happen, so Ruth knew it was time to act. She stepped away from the counter and made as if to crumple onto the floor, clutching her hip. It worked, for the woman took a step forward and slightly lowered her gun and Ruth took her chance.

Quick as a flash the small knife Ruth had managed to snag off the counter was across the room and in the woman's arm, just above the wrist. The gun went off an instant later, and Ruth ignored the hot sear of pain across her upper arm, stepping back and grabbing another knife.

The woman didn't give her any leeway, dropping the gun from nerveless fingers and launching herself across the kitchen and was on Ruth before she could secure the knife she'd been after and she cursed under her breath as it skidded out of reach.

Four things happened simultaneously.

There was the thunder of footsteps running down the stairs.

Ruth and the woman crashed into Scott's chair, breaking it into pieces.

The house phone began to ring.

The pantry door opened and Scott's frightened face appeared.

It was now or never.

Beneath her Ruth could feel the chair leg digging in and she bucked up to free it. Scott's appearance had caused the woman to loosen her grip slightly, but it was enough. But Ruth got the shock of her life when an expertly thrown apple hit the woman on the side of the head. It distracted her enough for Ruth to free the leg and herself, and as another apple caught the woman, Ruth turned onto her knees and swung the leg like a baseball bat across the woman's jaw.

She fell limp as the last man entered the kitchen with a roar.

Scott froze. From where he was standing the man was looking straight at him, gun pointing. Grandpa had taught him often enough that you don't point guns at people in case they go off. For a second the man gave him the most horrible smile, but then the man seemed to realise that his Grandma was in the room with his two partners at her feet.

The gun swung to his grandma and Scott saw red.

Throwing the apple with all his might, like his Daddy had taught him for little league he had joined this summer, Scott caught the man as he was turning, virtually square in his groin. He followed up without pause with one to the head and the man dropped down to the ground, a high-pitched groan the only sound he made.

Ruth was across the room in an instant to make sure the man was out of it, and when he looked up at her with tear-filled eyes she had no hesitation in swinging her substitute bat and knocking him out cold.

Scott dropped the last apple he was holding and ran to his Grandma, burying his face into her side. He was trembling and Ruth hugged him tight. It was only then that she realised the phone was still ringing, and she knelt in front of Scott.

'Scotty, baby. Everything's alright now, but I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me?'

'Yes, Grandma.'

'Good man. I want you to answer the phone. It will be your Grandpa calling. I want you to be careful not to say anything about what's happened here, ok?'

'You – you want me to lie?'

'No, honey, I don't want you to lie, but your Mom is having difficulty with the baby already, being late as he is, and I don't want her to stress. Can you do that?'

Scott nodded and accepted the phone. He took a deep breath like he'd seen his Daddy do sometimes and answered. His voice was solid and Ruth couldn't have been prouder.

'This is the Tracy Farm. How may I help you.'

Thanking her husband and his love of all things antique meaning that the house phone in the kitchen wasn't a vidphone, Ruth set about tying the three intruders up before dragging them into the pantry. She bound the knife wound and applied some cream to the burns after carefully removing the sauce. That was not going to heal pretty.

She then set about putting the kitchen to rights, keeping half an ear on Scott and the one-sided conversation that he was having. He was currently talking about England again, and was very animated, and Ruth knew that the kid was going to be alright.

Interrupting the conversation for a moment, she kissed Scott's head as she told him that she was going to fetch more apples, Ruth headed out to find the dogs. The sudden way they had gone quiet worried her, and when she found them near what was obviously the getaway vehicle her heart quickened. Giving them a once over and she was relieved that they were alright, just unconscious. She ground her teeth in anger over someone who could hurt innocent animals and children, but she centred herself and returned to the kitchen.

Scott handed her the phone and she spoke briefly to Grant while Scott washed the apples and got the pan ready to cook the next batch. She'd have to be quick if they were to be even remotely ready for the return of their family, but she knew they could do it.

As the apples cooked Ruth made another call. Sheriff Eli Winters was not a happy man, and he promised to come personally and remove the men, hopefully before everyone arrived home. He and the other car arrived in good time with the ambulance Ruth had said was needed, and they had not long left when Grant's pickup pulled up in front of the farm.

Ruth and Scott stood on the steps, grinning. Everyone gathered in the living room, talking over each other as she brought out piping hot apple pie and cream for the adults and ice cream for the children.

They settled in immediately as Grant switched on the baseball and pretty soon all that could be heard was people munching on apple pie and the thwack of ball on wood and the accompanying commentary.