Without ado, chapter three! :)

By the way: I'm really sorry about this, and I don't know why it's happening, but my breaks are being deleted. You can usually tell where they should be, but from now on I'll actually write 'BREAK' so it can't be deleted. Okay? :)

Disclaimer: I think you know what needs to be said. If you don't, check the previous chapter. And the one before that. :)

3. Taken

Teresa

Teresa came-to slowly. First she was aware of a throbbing pain above her left ear, the spot of pain feeling crusted with what she guessed was dried blood. Second, how bad the mattress beneath her cheek smelled, like cigarette smoke and dust. She resisted the urge to sneeze. Then everything came hurtling back.

She remembered being woken to a hand clamped over her mouth, and the cold barrel of a gun at her temple. She remembered struggling, sinking her teeth hard into the thick fingers, and feeling satisfaction when she heard the soft yelp of pain. Then... her necklace being ripped off her neck, the burn of the chain being torn past her skin, and then... A sharp pain throbbing from her head, and after that, everything was black.

She automatically began reaching for the gun in her holster, but quickly realised two things. A, that her weapon had been taken (the familiar, comforting weight on her hip was gone), and B, her wrists were cuffed together.

She sat up slowly, eyes adjusting to the dingy light, and head crying out in pain. Teresa looked around at the small room, taking in the concrete floor and walls, her single mattress and a chair the only furniture. She eyed the door, which she knew would be locked. A flutter of panic started in her chest. It was blatantly obvious what had happened – she had been taken by the man who had killed White. But why not simply shot, as he had been?

Teresa slowly struggled to a standstill, trying not to move her head around too much. She knew she was concussed because of her pounding head and slightly blurred vision.

Stumbling to the door, she wrenched at the handle in vain, twisting and turning it. But it was locked, of course. A rush of frustration took hold of her, and she smacked the door with her cuffed fists, taking her anger out on it. To her astonishment, the door swung open. For a split second, Teresa's heart rose. But then she saw the shadowy figure standing in the doorway. Her spirits came crashing back down, smashing to bits on the ground. She didn't have time to move.

He shoved her hard, and she tumbled to the ground, landing hard on her tailbone with no loose hands to blunt her fall. The extreme pain that jolted up her back made her vision black out for a few seconds.

In normal circumstances, she would have been able to fight back, but her head was spinning so fast, she could barely see. She scrambled backward, aiming for the legs of the heavy-looking chair, wanting to put up a fight. But with her confused head, excruciating pain in her tailbone, and her cuffed hands, she was helpless.

The man towered over her, looking like two men through Teresa's warped vision. In one fast movement, he struck her across the head with incredible force, knocking her to the ground. There was a sickening thud as her head hit the concrete in the same place that had been bleeding.

Her last thought before the darkness comsumed her was Jane. Just his face, smiling at her, reminding her he would do anything to find her. And she almost smiled at the hopeful bubble that swelled in her chest.

Patrick

Everything was a blur. Nothing mattered but finding her. Since Patrick had found Lisbon missing two days earlier, he had done nothing but think about finding her. And trying to ignore the niggling fact that if there was blood, it meant she was hurt. But he was grasping at the idea she was alive somewhere. Scared, but alive.

Soon after Patrick had realised she was gone, there had been a yell from the front of the building. The night security guard had been discovered, knocked out and dragged behind the absent secretary's desk. He was fine, but frustratingly, he hadn't seen the face of the person who had attacked him.

Lisbon's whereabouts became an all-consuming obsession for Patrick within less than an hour. It wasn't like when Kristina Frye had been kidnapped by Red John. This time was much more intense, since Patrick didn't know the kidnapper, his methods, or his patterns... In other words, he had nothing. Plus, this was Lisbon. Kristina Frye, in comparison, was nothing.

Lisbon... Patrick's heart thumped loudly in his ears, seeming to say 'Find. Her. Find. Her'. She couldn't be taken away from him. Not like Angela had been.

"Van Pelt, do you have anything new?" Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the throbbing tension headache, watching the agent from his seat on the edge of his couch. Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby had been in overdrive, frantically trying to find clues to save their missing boss. The Missing Person's Unit were also working on finding her, but they had multiple cases going on at the same time. They had already followed up several possibilites, only to run into brick walls at every turn.

"Okay, I've just found this," Van Pelt said, voice tense as she clicked away at her keyboard. "Kalmer, the guy that Bosco killed, had a friend called Ernie Highton. Highton has been convicted of rape on a minor twice, but somehow, both convictions were thrown out of court for 'lack of evidence'." Her voice was bitter, and Patrick could hear the scornful quotation marks around 'lack of evidence'. "Sounds a bit like Kalmer's cases, huh?"

Patrick nodded, standing up.

"He has been in jail for..." Van Pelt blanched, and she smacked the desk with one hand, face grimly triumphant. "Eureka," She breathed her favorite catchphrase, catching the attention of everyone in the room. "He was in jail for nine years. Just released." She looked up at them, expression half-scared, half-angry. "This is him, guys. This is who has Lisbon."

This guy could have Lisbon right now, and she could be alive. Patrick strode over to Van Pelt, looking into her eyes intently.

"Can we go..." Patrick paused, trying to phrase it in the cop way. He wanted to say "get him", but he knew that wasn't routine. "Can we go talk to him? Now?" Van Pelt nodded, already pulling her jacket on.

"Rigsby, Cho. We've got something. Let's all go." She handed Highton's details over to Cho, who glanced at the paper briefly and stood.

Without a word, the team threw themselves into the van and drove, Jane following in his own car. The closer they got to Ernie Highton, the more determined Patrick felt that Lisbon was alive. He refused to think otherwise.

Teresa

The first time she heard the voice, she had been certain it was just a hopeful dream. Her delirious brain, desperate for help, had conjoured up that familiar sound. Rigsby's voice. Then she heard a woman's voice, sweet, but with a steel undertone. Van Pelt?

Teresa sat up, ignoring her whirling head. She closed her eyes to concentrate on listening. The scrape of a chair against the floor. Heavy footfalls. And the murmured voices she thought she would never hear again.

Mustering all her strength, Teresa gritted her teeth and pulled herself off the dingy mattress. She dragged herself to the door, a difficult feat when you are exhausted and concussed, with handcuffed wrists and a possibly bruised tailbone. She pressed her ear against the door, and over the thud of her heart, she heard a voice again.

"...ask you some questions?" The distinctive deadpan voice of Cho. Her heart lifted. They had found her!

Frantically, she began pounding on the thick door with her cuffed fists. But as hard as she tried, she couldn't make enough noise. Her wrists were bloody from the cuffs, and the muscles in her arms felt like jelly.

"I'm here!" She called hoarsely, as loudly as possible. But other than giving herself a sore throat, she achieved nothing. She pressed her ear against the door again, desperate to hear something, anything that suggested they knew she was there.

"...thank you for your time." The sound of many footsteps. They were leaving.

Teresa looked around herself desperately – and her eyes landed on the heavy-looking chair. With a burst of adrenaline, she threw herself at it, taking hold of its thick legs.

With a yell, she hurled it at the door with all her might. A satisfying crash resounded in her ears, shaking the wood of the door. The adrenaline faded quickly, leaving her swaying on unsteady feet. Black swirled in front of her eyes, and with one last glance of the door, Teresa crumpled on the hard floor.

Patrick

Patrick was panicking. The man sitting calmly in front of him, looking pleasantly intrigued, was giving off the impression of being totally innocent. His eyes revealed nothing but clear honesty. And yet... Patrick had been convinced it was him. It had to be! Or else they had hit another empty lead. And he couldn't handle another one of those. Not when Lisbon's life was at stake.

He resisted the urge to throw his cup of tea at the wall as he stared into Ernie Highton's eyes, desperate to find a shred of dishonesty. Van Pelt was questioning him, also looking disapointed, but keeping it in check. Unlike Patrick, who could barely see because of pent-up frustration. Rigsby was sitting in silence, watching Patrick warily. Cho was writing in his black evidence notebook, forehead creased in concentration.

"Van Pelt, could I talk to you for a moment?" Patrick burst out, not caring that he was interrupting her questioning. Highton's glass-like eyes pierced Patrick's suspiciously, but he ignored it, focusing on Van Pelt.

He pulled her outside, closing the door behind them. "This guy is either a brilliant liar or innocent, but I'm betting on the first." Patrick told her, voice deliberately hushed. "I need to go and search for her, now." Van Pelt nodded.

They walked back inside, Patrick not missing the fact that Highton's gaze followed him, almost predator-like, as he entered. "I am going to search your house," He announced to Highton, starting towards the opposite door.

Highton held out a thick arm, stopping him, and gave a slow, purposeful smile. "Are there not laws against that?" He cocked his head to one side, cold eyes still on Patrick's. "You will all be in serious trouble if you do that without a permit. And you don't have one, I'm guessing?" He smiled wider at the silence that met his statement. "I'm no stranger to the law," He said smoothly, eyes darting around triumphantly.

"Don't worry," Patrick replied. His hands were shaking in anger, but his voice stayed calm. "We will be back in less than an hour with one. And if we find you guilty..." He made himself stop, figuring that threats would get him nowhere.

"Mr Highton, thank you for your time." Cho said ubruptly, standing up. Rigsby shot Highton a look, still silent, and they began filing out the door.

"I'll catch up with you later," Patrick glanced at Van Pelt, who gave him a look before leaving. Her eyes clearly said 'Don't do anything reckless.' Cho glanced at him suspiciously before setting off down the path.

Patrick closed the door behind his collegues and lingered in the small kitchen, looking around. He was very aware that Highton was staring at him, but ignored the man's gaze.

His keen vision took in everything, from the precise way the kitchen was organised, to the sparkling-clean tile floor. He turned back to Highton, preparing to perform some hypnosis, when he heard it. A distinct bang, coming from below them. For a split second, nothing happened, except that darkness suddenly clouded Highton's eyes. Patrick had already made a movement toward the sound when Highton lunged.

Faster than Patrick would have thought possible, he was grabbed around the neck. The cold barrel of a gun was being pressed into his temple, and he struggled, trying to breathe around the hand clutching his throat. But Highton was extremely strong, much stronger than Patrick would have thought. He was marched down a flight of steps, a door was wrenched open, and Patrick was hurled inside head first. His head hit the concrete with a smacking sound. The world faded into nothingness. But not before Patrick caught a glimpse of dark brown hair, spread out on the floor beside him.

Uh-oh, not Patrick too! :o

I'm scared for them both now. Maybe this FanFic will go in a totally different direction than my others... Maybe someone will die. Oops, I've said too much.

I'll leave you to ponder that.

- Ashlee-(Evil) Rose