A/N: Another rated "R" chapter in this one, people. (I think it'll be the last for a while, though.) It's much more brutal, physically brutal, than the last one (and as with the warning in the first chapter, a lot of foul language in this chapter). Sorry to those who may want to skip this chapter because of that. I've purposely tried to give this story a darker edge to it than the actual series (partially because it's Adrian and not Amy and partially just because I think it's interesting to explore the darker, more twisted side of teenage existence). Also, again, sorry about the update delay. We can blame my weekend homework for that.

Turning Tables

Chocolate Hate

Five-year-old Ricky Underwood could hear the sound of the microwave beeping as soon as he entered the apartment, followed by the sound of the refrigerator door and the tinkling of liquid moments before he trotted into the kitchen and found his mother's back to him. He dropped his backpack onto the table and scooted into the chair as she turned around, capping the milk carton. When she smiled at him, he looked away, choosing to stare at the grains in the wooden tabletop.

"Hey, baby," Nora Underwood smiled uneasily. Her stringy brown hair was down and she wore only a little makeup, rouge and pink lipstick. "I made you some hot cocoa." Nora plucked a spoon from the drainer and stirred the drink into white and mocha swirls before sliding it in front of her son, who shook his head. She frowned. "I thought you liked cocoa?"

"Not thirsty," Ricky muttered, pushing the mug back at her. He grabbed for his backpack and pulled out a peechee folder. "Mrs. Jordann wants you to put your name on it."

Nora's face fell as she took the folder. "Alright, Ricky," she sighed. She opened the folder as she moved to the drawer for a pencil and stopped cold. "You got an F this week in conduct. What happened?"

Ricky ignored her, choosing instead to play with the zipper on his backpack.

"Ricky, look at me! Why did you-" She visibly shook at the sound of the front door slamming, which sent a rattle throughout the entire apartment. Nora's hands gripped around the peechee folder as the thunder of footsteps neared the kitchen. "We'll talk about this later," she whispered, sliding her son's peechee folder back across the table.

A moment later, Bob burst into the kitchen. He face was clean shaven, but he had a visible and freshly bled cut along his cheek. His jaw was set and he had a carnivorous look on his face, as though he were a bear on his haunches.

"Bob!" Nora gasped. "What happened?" She rushed to his side and reached for his cheek. "Your cheek-"

Bob grasped her wrist before she could touch him and his knuckles turned white as they gripped her.

"B-ob!" she gasped. "Y-you're hurting me!"

"You think that's pain?" he growled, a fine spray of spit hitting her in the face. He shoved her backwards into the kitchen table, only then releasing her wrist. "You don't understand a thing about pain! You just stay at home all day playing housewife while I'm out there working my ass off trying to provide for everyone in this household and what do I get in return? Fired!"

"Wh-what happened?" Nora shuddered as she rubbed her red wrist, trying to blink back the sting in her eyes. "How did you-"

"Shut up!" Bob stormed across the kitchen and grabbed the mug of hot cocoa from the table, splattering half of it across Ricky's peechee folder. "What is this?" he demanded, sniffing it and then throwing the mug to the floor with an ear shattering crash. "This is why we're broke all the time, Nora! You think we can just spend money on candy and treats!" His eyes bolted to Ricky. "You coddle the boy!" Bob suddenly grabbed Ricky by the chin, forcing his son to look up at him. "She coddles you, doesn't she? Doesn't she?"

"I'm sorry!" Nora yelped. "I'm sorry, I – I didn't realize! I'll be more careful. I'll – I'll go out and get a job, I'll help you-" But before she was able to finish, Bob's hand landed with a searing crack across her cheek.

"You're not leaving this house!" he screamed. "This is my house and you're my wife! You do what I say, when I say!" He grabbed a clump of her hair and pulled her into his face. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes! Yes!" Nora nodded frantically. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Bob!" She stumbled back when he released her and lighting touched the red handprint on her face.

"And what about you?" Bob growled, rounding on his son. "Are you just gonna sit there like a little bitch while this shit drips all over you?" he hissed, rushing his hand across the spilt milk on the table and splashing it into Ricky's face.

Ricky quickly shook his head and jumped to his feet, running towards the oven to get the dish towel from the handle. Upon his return to the table, he began to mop up the spilt chocolate with the towel, until Bob's hand pounded against the back of his head.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Bob!"

"Shut up!" He grabbed the towel from Ricky and shoved it into the boy's face. "Don't you know this is going to stain? What's wrong with you? You pathetic little shit! Is this how your mother's been raising you while I've been trying to keep our heads above water? Get up to your room!"

Turning on his heel, Ricky made a breakneck escape for his room. As he ran up the stairs, he heard crashes and shatters from the kitchen, followed by his mother's pleads which soon devolved into terrified screams.

The sound of his cell phone cut through his memories. Retrieving it immediately, Ricky realized it was Ben. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"They got a trace! They got an address!"

"Where?"

"I don't know, they wouldn't tell me, they said we couldn't be go, that it would be too dangerous. But they were able to briefly track the GPS on Adrian's cell phone before it went out. They're gonna get her!"

Ricky could vaguely hear another voice in the background, it sounded male, but he couldn't make out whose it was. He could, however, hear that it sounded like whoever it was, was telling Ben that Adrian would be okay. "You don't know him," he muttered in an instinctive response.

"What?" Ben's voice asked in reply.

"Nothing." Ricky replied automatically. "Never mind. Thanks. I gotta go."

"I call you again when if I find out anything else."

Ricky hung up without responding. He needed that address and he needed it now! "Mom!" he hollered, jumping up from his bed. "Mom! I need that number for Officer Diablo!"

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"He hung up on me," Ben said, lifting his eyes to Henry and flashing him the screen on his cell phone which revealed that the call had ended.

"Help!"

Confused, Ben and Henry looked at each other, and then looked at Alice, who had been sitting at Ben's desk staring at her cell phone for the last half hour. "What?"

"I am such an idiot!" Alice yelled. "It's so obvious now!" She jumped up and shoved her cell phone into the boys' faces. "She was asking for help! 'Seven-six-seven,'" she said, pointing out the numbers on the keypad. "'S-O-S!'"

Ben grabbed Alice's phone and looked at the miniature letters beneath the numbers. There was no other way to explain it; she was right. His face scrunched up. "And she sent it to me?" he whispered. Looking at Alice in bewilderment as he questioned, "Why not Ricky? Why not her mother? Why me?"

Before the question had the chance to be pondered on, the house phone began to ring, prompting all three teenagers' attentions. "Do you think that's-"

"The kidnapper?"

Ben swallowed the lump in his throat. "Let's go downstairs," he whispered nervously. "I want to be there when my dad answers the phone…"

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"Officer Diablo!" Ricky yelled as he burst through the noisy police station.

The officer in question was at the water cooler, filling a water bottle. He turned at the sound of Ricky's voice and greeted him with a sympathetic smile. "We're doing all we can-"

"I was told you got a trace on Adrian's cell phone."

"We did," he nodded.

"I need the address."

"This is an official investigation, I'm afraid I can't-"

"This is my father! My rapist father. I deserve to be there when you get Adrian back!"

A few people in the immediate vicinity got quiet and looked their way, prompting Officer Diablo to look the other way. "Why don't we go talk in a more private setting?"

"Where you'll give me the address?"

"I already told you, that's something you can't have."

"Then take me there yourself!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Underwood," the officer said in exasperation. "I don't know how to make this anymore clear! I can't-"

"Officer Diablo! Nice to see you again."

Ricky watched as a tall Mexican man in an expensive suit and tie strode up and shook the officer's hand. He studied the man with interest, seconds away from interrupting, when the gentleman began to speak again.

"Why don't you let me help Mr. Underwood?" he suggested. He turned to Ricky and motioned his hand, "Why don't we go this way to talk about Adrian?"

Ricky bit his tongue and nodded, following the Mexican man into a vacant room which the latter closed the door to. "Who are you?" he demanded, as soon as they were alone.

"Distract Attorney Ruben Enriquez," he introduced, holding out his hand. "And you would be Richard Underwood?"

"Ricky."

"It's my pleasure."

"Do me a favor and cut the pleasantries. If you know my name, then you obviously know what's going on here…although I'm not quite sure how, since this isn't hasn't got to the point of court yet."

Ruben gave a smooth smile. "Let's just classify my early involvement in this case as 'special circumstances.'"

"Well you're not the only one. I have a special stake in this case too." He looked down, fearing he was going to regret what he was about to say next. "So does Ben Boykewich." He looked up again, locking eyes with the district attorney. "As you heard me tell Officer Diablo, I need that address. Ben and I should be there to bring Adrian home."

Ruben nodded. "I understand." He was momentarily silent, then sighed. "Look, I can't give you the address-" he held up his hand at Ricky's mouth that was opening to protest "-but I can take you there myself. Adrian's mother, Cindy Lee, will be accompanying us, however." He looked at his watch. "In fact, she should be arriving any minute now."

Ricky narrowed his eyes. "Why are you willing to do this for me?" he asked suddenly. "What's the catch?"

"There's no catch," Ruben replied and the look in his eyes told Ricky he wasn't lying.

"Then why?"

"I empathize with you."

"What," Ricky scoffed, "you had an abusive child molester for a father too?"

"No," Ruben sighed. "I am a father…and I know what it's like to be driven mad not knowing about the safety of your child and the mother of that child."

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His room was pitch black save for a single night light on the floor near the heater, which he liked to sit on to keep warm at night. Ricky was almost asleep when the sound of the slamming front door kicked him back from the edge of slumber. The heater vent was like a megaphone that connected the whole house, so everything that was said from downstairs came through loud and clear into his room.

"How did the interviews go?" Nora asked, her voice attempting to sound as cheerful as possible.

"How do you think they went?" Bob's voice thundered in return. Something shattered and Nora screamed. "Where's the boy?"

"He's – he's sleeping-"

"I asked where he is, not what he's doing!"

"In his room, but please Bob, don't wake him-"

Ricky jumped as he heard another crash and quickly scampered into his bed, pretending to be asleep. "Please don't! Please don't! Please don't!" he begged into his pillow. But he could hear what sounded like hooves from the hallway and then his bedroom door burst open. Ricky closed his eyes, lying as still as he could, then he felt Bob's alcoholic breath on the nape of his neck.

"You lazy son of a bitch," Bob growled, ripping the covers off of his son. "Did you think I wouldn't find out about that little F of yours? Did you think you could just fuck off and get away with it?" He raised his hand, smacking Ricky across the face. "Well I'll show you what real fucking off is!" he thunder, slamming the bedroom door. "It's time you learn how hard it is to be a man in the world!"

Ricky's cheek pounded against the window as a pothole jarred him from his thoughts. He quickly sat upright and took in the surroundings as the car pulled off the road: it was an offbeat, ramshackle motel off the main highway, essentially out in the middle of nowhere. When they arrived – Ruben driving, with Cindy in the front passenger seat and Ben and Ricky in the back – the whole area was covered in flashing blue and red lights and there was one ambulance off to the side.

Ruben stopped his car on a patch of rough gravel and killed the engine. "Stay in the car," he warned his three passengers. "I'll be right back."

Ricky looked at Ben, who had his face pressed to the window. The latter was sitting behind Adrian's mother, who he could hear softly sobbing from the front seat. He tried to look over Ben's head to see out Ben's window, amongst the strobe-like police lights and checkerboard of cop cars. His eyes kept going back to the ambulance. Finally he deemed it useless; waiting in the car wasn't getting him anywhere, so he reached for the door.

"He said to stay in the car!" Ben protested.

"Do you always do what your told?" Ricky snapped back. There was no option for Ben to answer before he spoke again, because they both already knew the truth. "I didn't think so." He slammed the door.

Ben remained seated. He heard Cindy jump and let out another wracked cry at the sound of the slamming door. He hesitated, then pulled his seatbelt. "I'm sorry, Ms. Lee. But if you District Attorney Enriquez comes back, could you tell him I'm sorry?" He didn't really wait for an answer, because Ricky was already disappearing into the seat of cops, so he jumped out and ran after him.

Ricky went straight over to the ambulance, but the back doors were closed, so he crossed around to the cab, only to find that it was empty. Then he spun on his heel and looked dead ahead to the motel. There was only one door open and yellow police tape was strewn across it. He made a beeline for it.

"Ricky!" Ben hissed. "You're going to get us in trouble!"

"I'm already in trouble. And besides, you didn't have to follow me. You can go back to the car, but I'm going in."

Ben looked back over his shoulder. He didn't see Ruben anywhere. He angrily kicked the ground and scurried after the drummer, hoping that he wouldn't end up getting arrested for this.

Ricky stopped at the doorway of the motel room and peered inside. His eyes swept over the carnage: broken drawers, shattered lamp, strewn pillows, overturned mattress, and various empty beer cans and liquor bottles strewn about the floor. "He's been in one of his rages," he said unconsciously.

But the thing that caught Ben's attention was the woman who was across the room, doing something with the wall. Ben watched her rise and then realized with the utmost horror, the wall that she'd been standing in front of was smeared with blood. He grabbed Ricky's sleeve and pointed, unable to speak.

Ricky instinctively touched his nose, then leaned against the doorframe for support. "I'll kill him!"

"What are you two doing over here?" Ruben's voice boomed. "I told you to stay in the car!" He grabbed them both boys by the shoulders and directed them back towards the car. "I can't risk you contaminating the crime scene!"

"I've got something over here!"

Ricky looked back, but Ruben forcefully pushed him away. "Go back to the car. Now! I'll find out what it is."

Ben dropped his head to his chest and followed Ricky back to the car, staring at his shoes. But no sooner had they both climbed in did Ruben coming running back, almost completely out of breath. "What's going-"

"Ricky, you said you saw Bob's car when he confronted you at school, correct?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I need you to tell me what it looked like and then I need all three of you get out of the car."

"What?" Ricky seethed. "No!"

"Ricky!" Ruben shouted. "This is important! I need to know-"

"I'll be happy to tell you what you want to know, but I'm not getting out of the car!"

Frustrated, Ruben punched the door. "F-fine! Get buckled!"

Ben pulled his seatbelt around himself and realized there was a flurry of commotion going on outside as well, with officers getting into their cars and sirens sounding. Judging by the way the car jerked onto the road, Ben suspected that Ruben was lead footing the gas. "What did you find in there?"

"Ruben!" Cindy shrieked, clinging to the overhead handle for support as the car jumped up to sixty and then to seventy.

"We're going to get Adrian!"

"What?" Ricky blinked. "But – how? How do you know where she is?"

"Because she's goddamn brilliant!"

Following Cindy's lead, Ben grabbed onto the overhead handle and turned to look over his shoulder, where several police cars were following them with their lights and sirens in the distance. By that time they were going so fast he could feel himself being pushed into his seat and he feared to think of what the speedometer was reading. "Where're we going?"

"Josh's Peak!" Ruben hollered. "It's the mouth of a campground about five miles from the motel!"

As they neared their destination, Ben noticed that the cop cars had turned off their sirens, though their lights were still whirling. He was almost beginning to feel a little seasick by the fourth mile. Then he noticed a road sign, noting that Josh's Peak was in a half a mile. His heart thumped and he looked back at the entourage again. This time their lights were off and most had fallen behind, save for two that were keeping their distance. "I don't understand, why aren't they following us?"

"They're holding back in case Bob tries to make a run for it."

"Then what are we doing?"

"Haven't you ever heard of the element of surprise? If he hears or sees a bunch of cop cars, there's no telling where or what he might do to Adrian in order to get away!" Ruben took the turn off into Josh's Peak campgrounds and slowed his pace considerably. He leaned over and opened the glove box, pulling out a small handgun that he tucked into a concealed strap on his person. "Ricky, the description of Bob's car!"

"It's green, like a toxic waste green with black designs."

Ruben suddenly stopped the car and started to climb out.

"What are you doing!" Cindy cried, high pitched.

Ruben pointed to the dirt trails making the divergent paths around the camp ground. "I'm going to check for fresh car tracks. Stay here."

From the back seat, Ben leaned forward as far as he could so he could watch what Ruben was doing via the front window shield. From Ben's vantage point, he could see the DA crouching down on the ground at the T in the road, then he turned saw him stand up again and head back for the car. The fifteen-year-old straightened his posture as the older man got back inside.

"There's definitely tire tread leading this way," Ruben said, steering left. He followed the tire tracks around the winding road at a syrup slow pace until they came to a bend and as they started to curve around, Ricky's voice boomed through the car.

"That's his!"

Sure enough, Bob's car was parked just off the main trail, under a couple of pine trees. Reclined in the passenger seat with sunglasses on was Bob.

Ruben pulled off to the side of the road, but didn't kill the engine. "Here's the deal," he said, not once taking his eyes off Bob's car, even though it hadn't appeared that Bob had noticed them yet. "I'm going to approach under the guise of a civilian and I'm going to try to get him out of the car. Cindy, you're going to get out when I get out and you're going to get into the driver's seat. If anything goes wrong, you're going to get the hell out of here. Do you understand?"

"Ruben-"

"Do. You. Understand?"

Cindy hesitantly nodded. "What if he's armed?"

"I'll be armed too. I'm going to try to get him to roll down his window or at the least get him out of his car so I can spring my gun on him. Once he's apprehended, we'll be able to look for Adrian."

"What about us?" Ricky demanded.

"Stay in the car."

"With all due respect, Sir…" Ben unbuckled himself and leaned forward, pulling off the sweater he was wearing and holding it out to Ruben. "You don't look like a civilian, not in a suit and tie. Not like someone who belongs in a campground anyway."

Ricky scoffed and shoved Ben's sweater back at him. "He's not going to look any better dressed up in that ridiculous little sweater either, especially when it won't fit him. Take off your jacket and tie," Ricky said, looking at Ruben's eyes in the rearview mirror. He slid off the Grant High Lancers hoodie to the DA.

Ben glared. "Like that's any better. Of course he's going to pass for being a student!"

"He could have a kid that goes there, he doesn't have to be a student," Ricky fired back.

"Stop it!" Cindy snarled. "We're supposed to be focusing on my daughter!"

"She's right." Ruben snatched up the hoodie, following Ricky's advice, and pulled the hoodie on over his white dress shirt, then he slipped his small handgun into the large front pocket. He opened his door, motioned for Cindy to do the same, and a moment later Cindy was securely in the driver's seat with the doors locked while Ruben was casually heading towards Bob's car.

From the corner of his eye, Ben noticed Ricky was reaching for the handle on the door. He looked back up at the window to see that Ruben was knocking on Bob's window and that the latter sat up and rolled down his window just an inch or so and seemed to be talking, then stopped and Ruben began to gesture, after which Bob began to move his mouth again. Shifting his eyes back to Ricky, he realized that the drummer was leaning down on the door handle. "Ricky, don't!" He grabbed for Ricky's arm, but the older boy pushed his hand away, shoved the door open, and climbed out without Ben being able to say or do anything to stop him.

Ben jumped up as Cindy gripped the steering wheel and tried to look out the back window and then the back passenger windows, but Ricky was nowhere in sight. "Do you see him up there?"

"Shh! I don't see him anywhere!"

Ben leaned between the front seats, watching the green car. From what he could see, Bob and Ruben still seemed to be going back and forth, but Bob hadn't budged from his seat, nor rolled the window down any further. Angrily, Ben kicked the back of the seat. "He's gonna screw this whole thing up!" As if on cue, he realized that in the distance, he could see Ricky sneaking up through the trees on the opposite side – the passenger side – of Bob's car and Ben realized he must have slipped around the long way, so he could sneak up on Bob while he was distracted by Ruben.

The fifteen-year-old sucked in his breath and held it as a sudden shattering of glass and commotion could be heard. Ben shoved open the other passenger door and jumped out, running towards the car as Ruben drew his gun, but from what Ben could tell, the main action was happening on the inside of the car, where both Bob and Ricky were, with the latter landing blow after blow to biological father.

Ruben charged to the other side of the car, where Ricky had snuck up from behind and struck a punch through the window. He reached through the broken frame and unlocked the door. The passenger seat was covered in bloody glass and Ricky had managed to straddle Bob.

"You bastard! You goddamn fucker!" The veins in his neck were pulsating and enflamed and Ricky's right fist was bleeding profusely from the broken glass, which was spattering about the car each time he took another slug into Bob's face or chest. Bob's own blood was also was also beginning to mix with Ricky's each time the teenager landed a pulverizing blow. "Where is she? Where the hell is Adrian?"

Ruben hit the button on the passenger door to unlock the driver's side door and moved back around, yanking open the driver's side and wrapping his arms around Ricky's waist, forcing him off Bob and throwing him to the ground. Ruben promptly aimed his gun at Bob, who was still strapped into his reclined seat, near unconscious and looking like a hunk of bloody meat. "Where's Adrian?"

"Adrian! Adrian!" Ben began to shout.

Ricky, chest heaving and covered in blood, scrambled to his feet, forming fists that he was ready to use on Bob again. "Tell us where she is!"

A sudden thudding came from the trunk and for a split second Ruben and the two teenagers looked at one another, then Ruben – not once taking his aim off Bob – lunged for the trunk latch, which opened with a groaning pop.

Being closer, Ben bolted towards the trunk and pushed it the remainder of the way open, where he found Adrian squinting up at him, hands and feet still bound, with a gag in her mouth. Her clothes were covered in partially dried blood and her face from her nose to her chin was covered in flaking dried blood. Ben leaned forward, aghast at the sight, and realized Adrian had tears in her eyes. "Hey," he whispered, overcome with emotion himself. "We got your text," he said, leaning in and scooping one arm under her bound legs and the other under her back. "I'm here to help."

Gritting his teeth and using all his strength, he lifted Adrian out of the trunk and struggled to carry her back to Ruben's car. When he thought he couldn't make it and might drop her halfway there, he looked at her face and wracked form again and a felt a spike of adrenaline course through him: if she could survive what she had been through, then he could – and would – take her all the way back to a lousy car. "Don't worry, you're going to be fine," he assured as the sound of sirens filled the air, followed by flashing lights. At the car, he was met by Cindy, who had the back door open and helped him lift Adrian inside. "Too little, too late," he said, nodding towards the cop cars.

Cindy nodded to Ruben's cell phone as she and Ben struggled to take off Adrian's gag and remove the bindings on her wrists. "They called, asking what the hold up was, and I as soon as I told them what was going on they said they were already on their way, so I gave them directions down the left trail." She tossed away the gag, but was unsuccessful in removing the bindings on Adrian's hands. Nevertheless, she embraced her daughter and began to weep in relief that Adrian was alive and back in her arms again.

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Two weeks after the abduction, the swelling in her face had gone down considerably, and except for a smattering of cuts and bruises that she'd been covering with concealer and other makeup. But today she had refused to anything up. She snapped her compact closed and slipped it into her pocket and began to examine her wrists, which were bruised and cut from the bindings that had been on them. She'd picked out a short sleeved purple top on purpose to accentuate the color of the bruises and wore a skirt and heeled sandals, so that the circular cut that went all the way around her ankle from the handcuffs was prominently visible.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Miss Lee?"

"I didn't ask the District Attorney Enriquez to get me this opportunity just to back out now."

"That way, Ms. Lee…"

Adrian pushed herself up from the chair and followed the guard down a long corridor where he brought her to a single door and opened it. She stepped in gracefully and spotted Bob sitting alone at a table in an orange suit and shackles on his hands and feet. She smiled. "My, my, how the tables have turned." Her heels made an echoing moan like ghosts as she moved across the room to face him.

Ricky's beating had done a number on him. Bob's face looked no better than raw hamburger that had been left open to the air for several days, both his eyes were black, he sported so many stitches he rivaled Frankenstein, and to top it all off he wore a nose cast.

Adrian tugged a small paper bag out from under her arm and held it in front of Bob's face. "Did they ever tell you how they found you?" she asked, flashing her teeth like a shark circling her prey. She turned the paper bag over and slid out two photographs. The first she held up revealed the wall and floor with the bloody smears. "Remember that bloody nose you gave me?" Adrian pushed the picture towards him. "Well I should thank you, because I knew they'd come with their black lights and their fingerprint dusting kits, so I made sure to put all that blood to good use." She lifted the second picture to his face, this time revealing a picture of the same wall, but under black light. In bright fluorescent coloring was the smudged message: JOSH'S PEAK 6:00 PM!

The teenager pushed that photo towards him too, grinning madly. "You forgot to turn on the fan, Bob. So all I had to do was leave a big bloody arrow pointing right to the spot I wanted them to look and then…" She lifted her hands, wiggling her fingers. "I just left a little message with my fingerprints." Adrian leaned in close enough to Bob's face so that he could feel the spray of her spit. "Who's the stupid bitch now?"