Obligatory Disclaimer: Dark Horse and Mr. Mignola own all, save for my own original characters. A special thank you to Guillermo del Toro for bringing this wonderful character to my attention.

"Son of a bitch!"

Hellboy's oversized right fist punched a hole in the wall as anger colored all rational thought. Every time he got within spitting distance, the homing device would jump to the next town over. The wild goose chase he had been on for nearly two weeks had Hellboy following the device all across Europe and down the African coast, ending with him in the warehouse district of Antananarivo, capital city of Madagascar.

Bits of plaster rained down around him from the impact, only adding to his frustration and somehow seeming appropriate, considering the circumstances. Nothing about this venture had gone according to any sort of plan and now he was standing in an old depot with the pouring rain from outside finding ways into the building and down the back of his duster.

And now it would seem that someone, or someones, were intentionally fucking with him. Because of course when Hellboy finally found the tracker, it was attached to an effigy that looked just like him, with no sign of the totem anywhere. A note was pinned to the doll and, with a snarl, Hellboy tore the missive down and read:

And here begins your story
Of your attempt to rescue Torie
Don't try to be bold
Just do as you're told
And she won't go down in a blaze of glory

She's no longer at the Bureau
But don't try to be a hero
You come alone
All on your own
Or her chances of survival are zero

The totem was stolen from a shrine
I took back what's mine
To get what's yours
Visit your sins upon others' doors
And Miss James will be just fine

I meant not to have teased
I want us to both be pleased
I repeat, do not dawdle
For I do not coddle
And I would hate for her to get diseased

So with a little bit of luck
And a whole lot of pluck
You'll find the fair maid
With only yourself as your aid
Before her poor body gets struck

But once the 15th has passed
And the time is fleeting fast
Come the next day
All I can say
Is that the 16th will be Torie's last

Stuffing the note in his duster pocket, Hellboy began to methodically search the entire building. Seven floors of a building that was mostly gutted didn't take that long, but he left no stone unturned and no abandoned piece of equipment in place. There was no sign of Torie or her abductors, but one could never be too careful or thorough. Several hours passed before Hellboy accepted the fact that not only had Torie never been in the 

building, but that whoever left the note did only that. There was absolutely no sign of any sort of occupation of the warehouse for at least several years.

Hellboy circled back to the effigy of himself. Pulling it off the beam it was nailed to, he threw it as far as possible, watching with satisfaction as it dented a metal door. He then pulled the note back out and quickly scanned it once again. A scream of frustration bubbled out of his throat as Hellboy crumpled the note as his hand balled into a fist, then closed his eyes and dropped to his knees.

He failed. Plain and simple. Here he had been hunting for Torie's attackers, leaving her in the care of Monica, when all this time she – both of them actually – had been in danger. And he dared not think about how long after Hellboy left that she was actually taken. Exhaustion washed down upon him as all the running of the previous weeks, combined with the knowledge his girlfriend was in trouble, came to a head. He just wanted to lie down and sleep for a million years.

Dammit, he should never have left Torie. If he had stayed with her – protected her – then she would be safe and sound at that very moment… instead of God knows where. Torie was snatched and it was all his fault! He should have insisted that the Feds lift their decision to announce her death to the media. After all, it seemed to be pointless if the bad guys knew she was alive.

Fuck, I hope Monica is okay. It doesn't mention anything about her. But gotta focus on Torie for the time being, then Monica. But what kind of cryptic shit is this? What does this mean? Others' doors? Confess your sins on others' doors? What the…? Okay, calm down and think. Just slow down… and think. They obviously gave you enough clues to figure this out. Confess your sins where? Where do you go for that? A priest. Priests in a church are behind doors. Dammit… she's at the old burned out church! Fuck me harder! Why there? What does it have to do with any of this?

There was no doubt that there had to be more than one person in on Torie's kidnapping. The images from the shooting showed three, but Hellboy knew there were at least two participants currently. One who had Torie and one who was moving the damned homing device all over God's green acre. But knowing his luck, there were many more than just the one's he knew about, a small army even – and the probably of the abductors being human decreased now that Hellboy alone was being summoned to rescue Torie.

Sighing heavily, Hellboy allowed himself to briefly remember the morning he spent with Torie before he left. Bathing her, while they were unable to consummate anything, was one of the most salacious experiences of his life. It was partly due to the fact that he was touching a naked woman, but the shyness Torie exhibited was also a little thrilling. If he hadn't slipped on a pair of workout shorts, there would be no way that Hellboy would have been able to keep his mind on The woman he had gotten to know over the course of nearly a year never showed anything but confidence, but it only proved that when you strip someone down, in this case literally, so go their defenses.

In an attempt to calm Torie down, Hellboy retreated out of the bathroom to the family room and turned on the stereo. The sounds of Bon Jovi's "Bad Medicine" suddenly filled the air.

A disgusted look marred Torie's features when she realized what she was listening to. Quickly donning a robe, Torie followed Hellboy out into the family room.

"Sam! What the fuck?" There was no way that she was going to bathe to music that equated to melodic sex. And then it dawned on her, "You made a mix CD of medical songs didn't you?"

Crap. Crap. Crap.

"No." He hated lying, but it was obviously upsetting her. Just pretend to change the station and it will all be okay. But Hellboy answered too quickly and refused to make eye contact with Torie as he punched a button on the CD player, switching over to the radio.

Wanting nothing more than to place her hands on her hips, Torie refrained from any other physical movement other than to hold her hand out, waiting to be handed the silver disk. "Bullshit. You so made one. And I want to see it. So give it here."

With a sigh, Hellboy knew it would be useless to argue – he was so busted. So he silently ejected the CD and handed it over to Torie. She smiled when she saw that the disk had a printed label with the songs listed.

"Bad Medicine by Bon Jovi… Healing Hands by Elton John… Calling Doctor Love by KISS… Smokers At The Hospital Door by The Editors… Cat Scratch Fever by the Nuge, Ted Nugent… The Doctor by Cheap Trick… Doctor by INXS… Dr. Feelgood by Mötley Crüe… Doctor My Eyes by Jackson Browne… Doctor Roberts by The Beatles… I Don't Need No Doctor by Humble Pie… I Don't Feel So Well by Vienna Teng… Sick Sick Sick by Queens of the Stone Age… Fire Down Below by Nick Cave… Still Ill by The Smiths… Family Doctor by Bread… Dear Doctor by The Rolling Stones… You Sound Like You're Sick by The Ramones… The Nurse by White Stripes… The Disease by Echo & Bunnymen and Bad Case Of Lovin' You by Robert Palmer…" she read aloud. "Holy shit, there's some good bands on here!" The enthusiasm that Torie felt reading the label suddenly dissipated. "And you put some effort into this… and I just crapped all over it. I'm sorry."

Hellboy shook his head, pretending that it was no big deal. And it really wasn't. Really. He didn't spend that much time working on it. It was a dumb idea anyway. "No, it's all good." The false cheerfulness in his voice sounded forced, even to him.

Torie grabbed his right wrist and placed the CD in his massive hand. Her own hand then arced up to his cheek, her knuckles tracing a line parallel to his sideburn. "No… it's not. Pop it back in." Then a sparkle appeared in her eyes and her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "But I am so not bathing to a song that stripper's would grind to. So no Bon Jovi or Motley Crue. Not until I'm feeling better anyway. Besides, if I was gonna strip, I got songs already in mind."

Suddenly, all was forgiven as the conversation turned to a much more interesting topic. "Oh? Do tell."

Her eyes flashed in merriment and as she led Hellboy back the bathroom, Torie looked at him over her injured shoulder. "You are such a boy…. Such a boy! But how 'bout John Lee Hooker's Boom, Boom, Boom… Aerosmith's Ragdoll… Tom Wait's Heart Attack and Vine… or Nine Inch Nails' Terrible Lie. You know, a little something for everyone."

A brow arched as Hellboy swallowed hard. When he finally regained his voice, he said, "That's quite a menagerie of songs. Sounds like you put some thought into it."

Torie shrugged nonchalantly, then winced from the effort. She bit her lip to hold back an expletive and breathed hard through her nose. "Time for pain meds," she whispered.

Hellboy was all business. "Absolutely."

Two weeks. It had been almost two weeks since he last laid eyes on Torie. Pulling himself together, Hellboy stood and rolled his shoulders before popping his neck with a push on the underside of his jaw with his right hand. It was the 14th, so he didn't have much time left. But there was no sense running headlong into danger without formulating a gameplan. Oh, there were plenty of times when he acted first and thought later, but those were times when it was only him versus whatever he was fighting.

But Torie added a whole other dynamic.

Nothing can happen to her. Nothing. Even if she ends up hating me because of what I'll do, it'll all be worth it once she's safe. I failed her once. I will not do it again. Even… even if this is it for us, I will save her. Bah. Who am I kidding? I need to call a spade, a spade. I love her. Plain and simple. And soon as we are alone, I'm telling her. And if she leaves, I have no idea what I'll do. Accept it? Fight it? Geez, old man, save her before you start planning the wedding…

Hellboy walked out of the warehouse and into the rain, cell phone against his ear as he made arrangements to get back to the States. If the weather was any indicator of the flight to come, it was certainly going to be a bumpy night. And he looked forward to the turbulence – it was going to put him in a perfectly foul mood.