A Voice in the Dark

Chapter IV

TITLE: A Voice in the Dark

AUTHOR: Lexie aka lillianschild

FANDOM: Spooks/MI5

RATING: PG13

PAIRING: Lucas/OC

SUMMARY: Section D has a traitor in its midst and a mysterious man arrives with what appears to be the key to rid MI5 of the mole.

A/N: this fic is my own version of Series 7. I will probably update it once a month, considering my busy work schedule, and try to pen a one-shot in between to continue my Guy & Marian Acrostic Series.

Disclaimer: all recognisable characters belong to BBC and Kudos Productions; I'm just playing with them for a little while without making a profit. No infringement's intended.

CHAPTER FOUR

Annabelle woke up with a dull headache, no doubt the result of her hitting her head when she'd fainted the previous night.

As soon as the room stopped spinning she made her way to the bathroom to attend to the urgent needs of nature. Then she struggled to strip down in order to have a shower in the semi-darkness; although there was a lamp on the bedside table, there was no switch in the room and it was up to the people who held her hostage to leave the lights on or off.

She found the quick shower invigorating; she would have killed for an immersion bath with her favourite salts and scented candles, but beggars aren't choosers and she couldn't risk having her captors walk on her naked.

Despite their overall civilised treatment of her, she hadn't expected to find her suitcase when she returned to her room nor did she believe she would be afforded the luxury of spending a few hours sans blindfold and of having even hot running water and perfumed soap to freshen up. Drying herself up quickly she donned a pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt, a red cardigan and sandals.

Rummaging through her suitcase to choose a clean change of clothes had been a strangely disturbing experience. There was no doubt in her mind they had searched through her things and yet it wasn't the idea of their handling her intimate apparel that unsettled her but, rather, the thought of the man with the chocolatey voice and the subtle aftershave going through her belongings... touching her lingerie. God, what was wrong with her?! She should be sickened not blushing furiously at the images her mind seemed to be determined to conjure up.

Stockholm Syndrome, yes, that's what it was. She would have had the same reaction no matter what her captor had sounded like.

She didn't have to wait long for the lights to go off again and the key to turn in the lock. The room was cast into darkness and yet she recognised the spicy cologne as that of the man who'd seized her outside her flat. Tom. That was his name or, at least, that was what she'd heard the other one call him before she passed out in his arms the night before.

“Is this really necessary?” she asked her kidnapper when he approached her with the blindfold ready in his hand.

Ros would have in all certainty made an attempt to neutralise him and run for her life if she'd been in Annabelle's place- after all, the young woman's hands had been untied when he entered the room. Maybe she was a coward, but she found comfort in the thought that her decision had been a sensible one; she didn't know how many there were and, considering the man's height and build, she was clearly at a disadvantage. No, she'd much rather survive the ordeal than leave the place in a bag.

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