I own nothing except a few OCs. The Almighty Larson owns the rest.
Collins sat on the bed, unmoving and holding the severed phone cord in his hand. The anchorman's words were still fresh in his mind. Part of him felt as though he was in a lucid dream, but he knew he was wide awake. If it was being reported on the news that he was missing, it had to be true. That meant Connor hadn't really told Angel about his accident. She had no idea he was with him. No one did. Connor had lied to him. He wasn't sure how to feel about all of this. Should he be frightened? Angry? Both? He couldn't decide.
"Professor Collins?" he heard his student call. He quickly put the phone back in its place on the bedside table and, using his crutches, stood up. Connor then appeared in the doorway. "There you are. Did you grow bored of reading?"
"No, I just . . . had to use the bathroom," Collins lied.
"Oh, okay. Would you like to play chess?"
"Chess?"
"Yes. I always play against myself when I come here. I think it'll be more fun to play against another person. What do you say?"
"Sounds good." Connor gave a small smile.
"I'll go get the board and pieces and meet you in the living room."
Collins nodded as Connor walked away. He got himself to the living room and sat down on the couch. He forced a smile when Connor entered with the chess board and pieces. As they played, he didn't pay much attention. He stared at Connor most of the time. The fact that he seemed completely calm was somewhat frightening. No one should ever be so calm after they have committed a crime. It was as if he didn't feel like he had done anything wrong. Of course, Collins had no way of knowing what the boy was thinking since he wasn't aware that the professor was on to him.
"Your move, Professor," Connor said, snapping him out of his thoughts. Collins took his turn and watched Connor's facial movements as he thought about his next move. He looked at the board and realized he had a good chance of winning.
"Check in two moves," Collins announced. Connor glanced up at him and then turned his attention back to the board. He then moved his queen in front of Collins' king.
"Checkmate." Collins furrowed his brow.
"How did I not see that?"
"I saw it four moves ago." Connor began collecting the chess pieces.
"Did you now?"
"Yes. Did you know there are 400 ways of playing the first move on each side in a game of chess, 197,281 ways of playing the first two moves on each side, and an estimated 318,979,564,000 ways of playing the first four moves on each side?"
"I did not. Were you only able to figure out up to four?"
"I can figure out a lot more. It's simple math."
"Okay then, figure out the first ten moves."
"Well, I already know the first five off the top of my head, so using simple math, as I said, that would make . . . 169,518,829,100,544,000,000,000,000,000 ways of playing the first ten moves on each side. Of course, that's just an estimate."
"Of course it is."
"Would you like to play another game?"
"Not right now." Connor nodded as he continued to collect the pieces. Collins watched him and silently made a plan to get the truth about what was going on out of him. "Have you tried calling Angel again?"
"Not yet, but I will."
"Why don't you do it now?" Connor froze and Collins noticed.
"Professor, I know you miss her, but calling her repeatedly isn't going to bring her here any faster." The boy kept his eyes on the chess board as he spoke.
"You're probably right. You gave her the address, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Huh." Connor looked up at Collins.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. I just don't think Angel really knows I'm here." The chess pieces fell from Connor's hands and onto the floor. "Do you need help picking those up?"
"No, no. I've got it." The eighteen-year-old got down on his knees began frantically picking the pieces up off the floor. "What makes you think Angel doesn't know you're here?"
"Partially because if you called Angel like you said you did, she would be on her way here right now. She doesn't wait around when someone she loves and cares about is hurt."
"Why only partially?"
"Because my suspicion is based on the fact that I know Angel and the fact that my picture is all over the news." Connor stopped picking up the chess pieces and looked at Collins. He was scowling at him. "According to the NYPD, I've been missing since yesterday. Care to explain that?"
"There's . . . nothing to explain." Connor's voice was soft.
"Then perhaps you'd like to explain why the cord of the phone in the guest room has been cut." Connor looked down at the carpet. "I'm waiting, Connor."
"Someone must have gotten in here."
"Enough of the bullshit!"
"Professor-"
"I offer to help you escape your abusive mother and your reciprocation is to hit me with a car and then kidnap me?" Collins interrupted. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I never hit you with a car," Connor said, standing up. "And I brought you here to protect you."
"Tell me the fucking truth, Connor!"
"That is the truth. I would never hurt you. Someone tried to kill you. I'm protecting you!"
"By keeping me away from Angel?" Connor fell silent. "This has nothing to do with you protecting me from anything. You're just mad because Angel's in my life."
"I am protecting you, but . . ."
"What?"
" . . . we would be perfect for each other, Professor. Just think about it."
"There's something seriously wrong with you and I don't want to be around it." Collins used his crutches to stand himself up and he started for the front door, avoiding the chess pieces.
"Where are you going?" Connor asked.
"I'm leaving!"
"You can't leave!"
"Watch me!" Connor threw himself in front of Collins and stood there. "Get out of my way!"
"You're hysterical. You're not thinking straight. Just go back to your room and rest."
Collins moved Connor out of the way with one of his crutches and continued toward the door. He was reaching for the doorknob when a gunshot sounded and a bullet went through the door, right above the knob. Collins slowly turned around to see Connor aiming a pistol at him. He was trembling. The professor's eyes widened.
"Connor-"
"My dad taught me how to shoot when I was thirteen," the boy interrupted. "I can hit anything I aim for. Go back to your room, Professor. I will shoot you." Collins was at a loss for words. Connor had a look of desperation in his eyes.
"Connor . . . you don't want to shoot me," Collins said. Connor tightened his grip on the gun.
"I don't want to, but I will if I have to. I can't lose you, Professor." Collins slowly made his way toward the guest room, Connor's gun aimed at him the entire time. Once he was inside the room, the door was shut and he heard a soft click. He tried to turn the knob, but he couldn't.
He was locked in.
Angel took deep breaths as she sat in a chair outside a conference room in the police station. She was holding a cup of water, sipping it occasionally. Her mind was so clouded she barely understood what she was about to do. Calming down was her main goal at the moment, but it seemed impossible. She wasn't afraid or nervous about being in front of cameras. It was what she would be saying that scared her. Up until now, Collins being kidnapped had been a theory. She knew that once the words left her lips, it would be true. She didn't think she would be able to handle that.
A random photographer started snapping pictures of her, causing her to shield her eyes from the flash.
"Hey, back off!" Baker said, rushing over to Angel with Joanne and Maureen right behind her. The photographer scurried away.
"They're like leeches," Joanne commented, staring through the windows of the conference room at the many reporters that had gathered there.
"You ready, Angel?" Maureen asked. Angel nodded, stood up, and gave her cup of water to her friend. Baker placed a blown up picture of Collins in her hands. It was the same picture that had been on the news two hours ago. Collins was smiling in the picture. Angel's eyes filled with tears.
"Remember, you need to show how much he's loved," Baker told her. "If his captor has even the slightest bit of a heart, they'll realize what they've done is wrong and with any luck they'll feel bad about it."
"Bad enough to bring him home?" Maureen inquired.
"That's the goal, but it's very unlikely." Angel took a few more deep breaths as Baker led her to the door of the conference room. Joanne walked behind the drag queen.
"I'll be right here when you come out if you need a hug," Maureen promised, smiling at her friend. Angel nodded as Baker opened the door.
Camera flashes greeted the three of them. Angel walked between Baker and Joanne up to the front of the room where a podium had been set up. Angel stood behind it and stared at the microphone. Baker stood on one side of her and Joanne stood on the other. She looked to both of them, receiving two looks of reassurance. Stepping closer to the podium, she prepared herself to speak.
"My name is Angel," she said. She turned the picture of Collins toward the sea of reporters. "And this is my boyfriend, Thomas Collins." She paused for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. "He's a . . . college professor and he's . . . been missing since yesterday. He is the sweetest, most loving person in the world and he never judges anyone before getting to know them. Even if he decides he doesn't like a person, he still makes an effort to treat them with respect." She looked at the faces of the reporters. Some of them had sympathy in their eyes. Turning the picture of Collins back toward her and looking at it, she tried her best not to cry. "I don't understand why someone would take him away, but . . ." She broke off and the reporters seemed to lean forward all at the same time, waiting for her to speak again. Joanne grabbed her hand. " . . . Collins, honey, if you're watching . . . know that I love you more than anything and I'm going to do whatever it takes to bring you back safe and sound. And to whoever has him . . . please don't hurt him." A tear ran down her cheek. "Bring him home . . . please."
Angel stepped away from the podium as more tears fell from her eyes. Joanne began leading her through the reporters toward the door as Baker stepped up to the podium.
"If anyone has any information about Thomas Collins' kidnapping, the NYPD encourages you to call our tip line," she said. "Thank you." She quickly made her way to the door, ignoring every question that was shouted at her. She went to the lieutenant's office where Joanne and Maureen had taken Angel.
"You did so well," Joanne told the drag queen. Angel stared at the picture of Collins.
"What if it doesn't work?" she asked, her eyes never leaving her lover's face.
"What do you mean?" Baker asked.
"What if, even after what I said, the kidnapper doesn't feel bad about taking Collins?" There was a silence. Baker took a step toward Angel and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"It's better to think happy thoughts," she replied. "Trust me."
For those of you wondering, that huge number up above is one-hudred sixty-nine octillion, five-hundred eighteen septillion, eight-hundred twenty-nine sextillion, one-hundred quintillion, five-hundred forty-four quadrillion. It really is.
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