Okay, this basic plot has been nagging me for a long while now and, upon the encouragement of Tromana, I started it. I think it will be a doozy (as in long) so I don't know when I'll finish or how often I can update. So bear with me, please. A bit of swearing and likely some uncomfortable situations. Hostage-y situation so if you don't like that stuff, don't read. Jisbon in the end, probably. I would assume so, at least—I mean, this is me.

So this entire fic is for Tromana, who was in the mood for some angst. Don't know if this covers it, but here ya go. And I posted today to save a life. Specifically, Divinia's life….

Chapter One: Taken

The first thing Lisbon registered was the dank smell. It was pitch black and it took a moment for her to realize that the darkness was because her eyes were closed. Prying her eyes open didn't make much of a difference. She squinted in the dim light and tried to ignore the pounding at the back of her head. Well, more than a pounding. In fact, it felt more like an ice pick continuously hacking at her skull.

She grimaced slightly. Okay, that wasn't the best mental picture.

Her vision blurred for a second so she closed her eyes and took deep, even breaths. She'd finish taking an inventory of her surroundings in a moment. Just as soon as she got rid of the small bout of nausea invading her senses.

Where was she? What had happened?

Carefully—lest she forget to regulate her breathing, somehow making her feel worse—she thought back. The last thing she remembered was walking out to the parking lot with Jane. Often, when he noticed her leaving late at night he would come up with some lame excuse to see her to her car. Ridiculous, really. Who had a gun? Who had training?

But he was stubborn and telling him no was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. So, with no small amount of amusement, she usually let him walk her to her car.

She didn't remember actually reaching her car. Only his teasing voice as he said something before sudden darkness.

Being knocked out?

That meant that Jane was likely either hurt or dead. She had to open her eyes and see if he was there. She opened her eyes, letting them adjust again to the small amount of light in the room. Damn, she'd have to turn her head. She did so, the nausea slowly abating. The movement sounded a small creak—like old bed springs. She was on a lumpy mattress, she realized.


Jane's voice. Whispering. He must have heard the springs.

"Lisbon? Are you awake? Are you okay?"

She tried to answer, realized that no sound came out, and cleared her throat. She could speak now, but her voice sounded so hoarse. "Yeah. I'm fine. You?"

"Not a scratch." He sounded rather chipper and, as usual, it irritated her. God, couldn't he take anything seriously? She was glad she didn't snap at him because his next words were quite a shade more serious than he usually was. "I basically went without a fuss once they had a knife to your skin."

She sighed. "Who?"

She was down to minimal sentences, if you could even call them sentences. Less trouble. Less painful.

The silence stretched for a moment, but Lisbon didn't push. She was focusing on ignoring the pain. Finally, Jane answered. "I'm not sure yet. I know them, but it'll take me a while to place them. A woman, late fifties. A young man, maybe her son, mid-twenties."

Lisbon didn't even try to think about who it could be. Not right now. "Where?"

"Don't know. They covered my head, but I'd say we drove for about two hours. And from the feel of the turns, we seemed to have gotten on I-5 South."

She sighed. "No witnesses at the CBI, I suppose."

She could almost feel his hesitance. "We were there pretty late. I think the only ones there besides you and I were the cleaning crew and a single security man. We were pretty hidden from the security cameras at that point. And the cleaning crew does the filing office in the basement at that time of night. Or morning rather."


"Glad to see the blow to your head hasn't affected your lovely sense of sarcasm, my dear."

"Go to hell."

"Not yet."

The banter between them made her feel more steady, more centered. More normal. Tentatively, she shifted on the lumpy mattress and realized that her hands and feet were both tied down. Jane seemed to hear her movement and responded.

"You're tied to the bed frame. Our wonderful hosts have secured me to a chair about five feet from you. I must admit that I'm relieved you've finally woken up. You were starting to worry me a little."

For Jane to admit that, she knew that she had to have been out for longer than she thought. "How long?"

"It's probably been about thirteen hours now."

"So the team should realize something's up. Cells?"



That seemed to sum it up.

Her head started to hurt again and she wanted so badly to succumb to the sleep that was beckoning her. Unsurprisingly, Jane seemed to sense that.

"I think you should stay awake, Lisbon. For twenty-four hours now, if you can. You may have a concussion."

She jerked her head once in a nod, forgetting both that he couldn't really see her in the weak light and that she had a head wound that would make it rather painful to nod. Her voice was a little strangled when she answered. "Right."

She jumped a little as a door swung open, banging against the wall and allowing some light to pour in. Suddenly, the room was lit and Lisbon squeezed her eyes shut against the invading brightness.

"There, that's better."

The voice sounded pleasant, but there was an undercurrent that made her shiver.

She could tell already. This was not going to be fun.

Maybe she should ignore Jane's advice and slip into sleep…