Love's Arithmetic

XIII: Intensity

He spoke first. His voice sent shivers down her spine, and gave her an odd tingling feeling. Her ever growing attraction to him was multiplying exponentially. She was finding herself spiraling into an oblivion that would be impossible to crawl out of when she got out of this situation. She knew what it was called, Stockholm Syndrome. Where the victim of a kidnapping or hostage situation began to feel sympathy or love for their captor.What has gotten into me?


"How are you feeling?" He asked, staying close to the wall, maintaining his distance. She was grateful for that.


Caer couldn't imagine what she looked like now. Even if she couldn't see his face, she knew he was attractive. Attractive men fell for attractive women. Since she was only semi-attractive when she was properly groomed and in a low stress enviornment, she knew she would be horrified at what she looked like. The bruises that marred her skin, and her face. She could feel the swelling in both her eyes, the right much more prominent. Her hair, though it had been washed and dried had maintained it's usual unruly curl. Her teeth hadn't been brushed since she had arrived, which, now that she had no perception of time due to her unconsciousness, could have been days ago. At least someone had washed her mouth of the horrible blood which had pooled there.


The man repeated his question, startling Caer out of her mental inspection of her face. She had not had the time to inspect her body before he had entered, but was secretly glad that she couldn't see the damage fully. At least she knew that she had been rescued before she had been raped. She looked in his direction, squinting to try and make his image clearer. The action served only to make her face hurt.


"I'm feeling...." Caer started to say to the blob against the wall. The blob she hoped was the man. She stopped as she heard her voice. It was low and sore, almost as though she had been snoring all night long and needed a glass of water.


The man, or rather the blob, moved away from the wall, and soon stood in front of her holding something out to her. His movements were quick and they startled her. Automatically responding to the action she moved against the wall the bed was positioned against. She closed her eyes, anticipating a blow that never came. Realizing how foolish she was being she opened her eyes and discovered the blob had moved to the other side of the room again. "I'm sorry." He said quietly.


Sorry? What does he have to be sorry for? Caer thought desperately. I'm the one to be sorry. He's treated me well enough, and I repay him by moving away. "You have no need to be sorry." She said, her voice still harsh and dry. She swallowed to moisten it, but to no avail.


A small chuckle came from the blob and she wondered how it was funny. Her voice probably. "Do you have water?" She asked, the man had not hurt her, he had helped her, of that she was sixty percent certain.


The blob moved, much slower this time, and sat on the bed when he reached it. He moved his hand along the comforter, letting her hear the sound, his arm getting a little clearer as it got closer. When his hand came in contact with hers she felt a fission of electicity zip to her elbow, shoulder, and down her spine. A cold glass of water touched her palm and she gladly wrapped her hand around it. Lifting the glass to her lips she rejoiced in the feel as it slid down her throat.


Downing the whole glass didn't take much effort. When she was finshed she held the glass out the blob that was still sitting on the bed. "May I have some more please?" The ice clinked as he took it from her and stood. He was back fairly quickly sliding the glass towards her again the same way, so as not to scare her. Three more glasses later, Caer was fully satisfied. She hated to think of herself as rude and go to sleep immediately after he had given her something, so she stayed sitting, even though she was terribly exhausted.


She wished she could see his face and enjoy the perfect contours and the well maintained body.





Garrett couldn't help but feel horrible thinking about how she had paled and moved away from him abruptly the first time he had tried to offer her water. She had been beaten, and he had been careless enough to approach her. She couldn't see him, or what he held, half blind as she was. He only wished he could have gotten there sooner.


Toby, a man he had trusted, a man he had worked with and depended on had gone directly against what they had all agreed to do. No one was to harm the woman. She was to remain untouched so that they could continue to use her. Now, she was bloody and bruised and probably wouldn't be forthcoming with any information about what she would think the best kind of stocks would be to by and sell. Part of using her was to utilize her knowledge so that he would be able to continue to expand the money that he had. He was aiming to build an empire.


Sylvia was perfect for him. Not only would she be able to help him with his finances, she would also be an asset to him in other aspects. He was a selfish man and one that liked to flaunt what he had. She was a beautiful woman, a perk he had not anticipated, and once she resigned herself to the fact that she wasn't going to leave, he was certain she would make a great wife.


However, despite the fact that he was enjoying the idea, a tug on hisconscious gave him pause. It would be no better than a form of slavery. He was keeping her here captive and how would providing for her and keeping her safe ever make up for the fact that he had taken her away from her family, from her life? Did he really want to be responsible for doing such a thing? Kidnapping her had been an act he'd had no trouble with, but what about marriage?


He had toyed with the idea in the beginning, it would be a way for her to have some control over her life. To rise with him, but what if she didn't want to? What if her deepest wish was to simply go home?





Sylvia was awake at twelve forty-five when Wes and Urma arrived to wait with them for the news to come in. The police had set up headquarters in her office and had been waiting with a tapped phone line hoping that the kidnappers would call soon.


That had been two hours before. Sylvia was losing hope that they would call, but why wouldn't they? They wanted money, and if they wanted money they would have to call. There was nothing that could be done until then. It was merely a waiting game now.





Caer was feeling oddly anxious around the man. She was also curious as to what his name was."What's your name?" She asked looking in his direction. He still sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. She could feel the heat of his stare and wonder if he could really see through all the bruises.


"You can call me Garrett." He said quietly, offering no explanation as to whether or not it was a first of last name.


She figured it had something to do with the drugs in her system given to her to dull the pain of the attack on her, mixed with the adrenaline of being kidnapped, and the attraction she felt for Garrett that made her say, "Garrett, kiss me."