One: Taken

James Winthrop Frayne was an outdoors person. He loved getting back to nature. He tolerated the week spent cooped up inside a classroom because the end result would bring about the culmination of all his dreams. Jim still aspired to opening a school for abused and underprivileged children. Currently in his junior year at college, Mr Frayne was more than halfway to achieving his degree in education. It was only the first step towards his ultimate goal.

With the academic facet of Jim's personality sated, occasionally he needed to take off into the great outdoors. A night spent in the preserve, camping under the stars with only the sound of the forest for company satisfied this particular need. The peace he managed to achieve gave him the ability to once again return to the grind of his studies in the concrete jungle of New York City.

Greeting this particular day by watching the sunrise, a smile creased Jim's handsome features. When the sun finally escaped the horizon, he boiled a pot of water over the small fire rekindled from the night before and made coffee. It wouldn't be long before he was forced to pack up his camp and trudge the half mile back to Manor House. Neither his sister nor Mother would rest easy until he was back in the family bastion. Smiling at the peace, which one night alone in the wilderness had generated within his soul, Jim felt completely content. That was until a blond tornado charged into the clearing.

'Jim,' Trixie stopped suddenly, surprised to see him. She appeared breathless and frightened. Her eyes darted over her left shoulder. A path had been created by her headlong flight through the underbrush.

'Who's got you running scared?' Jim teased, knowing Trixie's legendary imagination and ability to ferret out a mystery. It's almost as though she expected someone to be following her, he thought.

'Jim,' she screamed but the warning came seconds to late.

He felt, rather than heard the blow on the back of his head. Jim could feel his mind start to fade. I'm going to blackout, he realised, staggering forwards, unable to stop his knees buckling.

'Don't you dare hurt him again!' Trixie yelled at his attacker. The ferocity on her face communicated her intention to fight, not flight.

This must be the reason Trix was running scared, Jim recognized belatedly. His thoughts were hampered by the darkness invading his mind. Then a closed fist connected with the side of Trixie's face. It was the last image he saw before crumpling to the ground, unconscious.

The darkness faded to be replaced with a strange kind of pale green luminescence. Somewhere, in the retreating gloom, the pounding in his head asserted itself. It was hard to concentrate, to reason, to understand what was happening to him. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, he saw the young woman lying beside him. Her hands were bound behind her back, a gag and blindfold covered most of her face. It was then his memory of the events leading up to this moment flooded back.

'Trix,' Jim whispered needing to know she was still alive. Squashing his memories of their abduction, Jim attempted to stop the growing fear he felt. 'Trix, can you hear me?'

Watching the prone figure, Jim could see the deep even rise of Trixie's ribcage. He was loath to speak louder in case their abductor was nearby and listening. Seeking to alleviate his own feeling of inadequacy, Jim continued chattering to himself. The sound broke the silence which would otherwise have surrounded them.

'I'm sitting right next to you, Trix, but you won't be able to talk or see because you've been gagged and blindfolded.' Jim told the unconscious woman, hoping his voice would be enough to wake her. 'Your hands are bound, but who ever did this tied my hands and feet in front of me and then connected them with a short chain, so I can't move much. Trix, I can't reach your wrists or head to take the bindings off.'

Feeling as dejected as his voice sounded, Jim continued, 'We're in a box about four feet square and three feet high. If you want to sit up, do it slowly or you'll bump your head. The inside has been coated with phosphorescent paint. I don't know why anyone would go to the trouble. It seems kind of redundant, under the circumstances.'

Cruel, the sudden thought invaded Jim's mind, and I only know one person capable of this kind of vindictiveness. He cut any further thoughts off viciously. Jim had worked hard to stop the painful flash backs to the abuse he had suffered in his youth. Rarely did thoughts assault him unless he was highly emotionally aroused. Right now Jim felt more emotional than he could ever remember.

Straining to hear any sounds outside their cramped prison, Jim was able to put his emotions to the back of his mind by concentrating on their situation. A low hum, which could have been a truck or plane engine, obscured any other noise. Yet it informed Jim that they were being transported.

Who and why? He considered. I know Trix has been in some scrapes before. Jim wondered if a nemesis from their past had finally decided on revenge. But why, why kidnap Trixie and attempt to… Jim couldn't allow himself to think about anyone hurting Trixie. The feelings it would generate could trigger a break in the barriers he'd erected to protect himself from the past.

It simply didn't make sense, no matter how his pounding head attempted to look at it. Even a ransom demand seemed unlikely. The Belden's aren't in any position to pay up and anyone who knew them would know that.

Then Jim's mind hit on another reason. Matthew Wheeler could. The sudden realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. Maybe I was just collateral damage. Maybe Trixie running into my camp saved her life.

Jim wasn't sure how long he sat in the dim light with only his depressing thoughts for company. Minutes or hours might have passed before he felt a movement. Finally, Trixie was stirring and his heart leapt for joy.

'Trix,' he whispered trying for a calm tone, 'I'd like to try something. See if you can sit up.'

It took time for Trixie to respond to his words. She seemed groggy, her movements slow and deliberate. The amount of manoeuvring to rearrange their positions in the cramped box left them both breathless and Jim panting from the effort. It was only when Trixie was safely on Jim's lap, her head resting against his shoulder that Jim realised she was crying.

How frustrated must Trixie be feeling, Jim considered, unable to communicate her emotions with anything but tears?

Jim wanted to curse, not a common occurrence for him. Right now using bad language under his breath helped to clear his mind. After a lot of soft, soothing words and more than a little more manipulation, Jim had Trixie right were he wanted her. He was able to use his teeth to slide the blindfold off. The gag proved more difficult but eventually that too was dispose of.

A sharp intake of breath was the only outward response Jim allowed himself at the sight of Trixie's face. Her left eye was almost swollen closed. Undoubtedly the same side would be bruised for days once the swelling receded. The confused look in Trixie's eyes revealed the extent of her head injury.

'Jim,' Trixie croaked in response to his continued soothing word, 'I don't remember anything.' She started to weep softly. 'I remember Honey calling, to say you came home for the weekend unexpectedly. I was so disappointed when she said you were spending it in the preserve. I really wanted to talk to you.'

'So you don't know who was chasing you?' Jim asked after filling Trixie in. A moan escaped as Trixie attempted to shake her head. 'I think you have a concussion, Trix. Just stay awake, keep talking to me,' Jim pleaded.

Time moved slowly. Afraid to communicate their growing anxiety to each other, they kept up a friendly banter in the attempt to deny the situation they found themselves in. When Jim had to rouse Trixie from sliding into unconsciousness for the third time, he wondered why he had bothered. Seconds later a slightly pungent odour filled their prison.

Ether, Jim considered, unable to fight fading into darkness for a second time in what he thought was the same day.