========= Chapter Four ========= For a few seconds after hearing those words, Dana continued to struggle. She was distantly aware of other people rushing by her, and she heard shouts of alarm from the direction of the tunnel. But then the arm around her throat tightened, and all she was aware of was the need to get enough air. "Resist or serve," the voice said again, more insistently than the first time. Dana didn't know what those words meant, exactly; nevertheless, she felt a chill race down her spine at their repetition. Then the arm tightened still further, and she saw stars -- and then everything went black. # # # Dana was never sure, later, just how long she was out, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. She was now slung over someone's shoulder, and that person was walking, taking her somewhere, his shoulder digging into her abdomen with each step he took. Unfortunately, she had no idea *where* she was being taken. Her captor had blindfolded her, and her hands were tied behind her back. Even her ankles were bound. She was completely helpless. For just a moment, Dana felt panic building within her. Things had moved so far and so quickly, and now events seemed to be completely out of her control. She didn't even know who had taken her. Somehow, she managed to fight down her fears. From somewhere, a phrase popped into her mind: "I had the strength of your beliefs." It seemed to be her own voice saying the words, but she had no idea who she was speaking to. Nevertheless, they seemed to be giving her strength and comfort, and so she repeated them in her mind: "I had the strength of your beliefs." As her racing thoughts gradually slowed down, Dana started to be more aware of her surroundings. She was still unable to see, of course, but as she continued to calm down, she was able to pick out sounds: the breathing and footsteps of her captor, and the rustling of underbrush and occasional murmur of conversation that indicated the presence of others. She strained her ears each time someone in the procession spoke, but try as she would, she couldn't make out anything intelligible -- nor did she hear the one voice she was sure she would recognize: Pan's. She wasn't sure what she expected to hear him saying, or how it would help; probably it wouldn't help. But she desperately wanted to hear a friendly voice. It occurred to Dana to wonder if Pan had even been captured. She wondered about his "men", too, but she didn't really know them the way she did Pan, and so it was on him that she focused. He could have flown away, she suddenly realized. Heck, *she* could have flown away. She still could. If only she could get free of her bonds and whoever was carrying her, she could just fly off into the sky. Then if she had any sense at all, she would just keep on flying, and head for home. She could do it. She was sure she could do it. All she had to do was get high enough in the air that she could see the whole island, and she was confident that she'd be able to pick out the correct bearing. Then she'd fly home as fast as she could, leaving this strange place behind -- Dana was dragged abruptly from her thoughts, as her captor suddenly heaved her down off his shoulder and dumped her unceremoniously on the ground. She was still trying to catch her breath when a pair of hands grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and dragged her a few feet across uneven ground, before finally propping her up against something hard and rough. A tree, she realized. She was leaning against a tree. A moment later, another body was deposited next to her, and then she felt a thick rope being stretched tightly across her chest. Automatically, Dana began to struggle again as the rope was drawn tighter and tighter, digging into her flesh through the thin material of her pajama top. Her wrists and ankles were still bound, however, so there was really little she could do -- "Relax, Wendy. Don't try to fight it." Pan's voice. Coming from the person sitting next to her. Immediately Dana stopped struggling, and turned her head in the direction the words had come from. "Pan?" she asked. "Is that you? What's going on?" She wished she wasn't still blindfolded; she wanted to see his face. It would reassure her that he was really there. "Yeah, it's me," he replied, his tone surprisingly light and cheerful. "As for what's going on -- we've been captured by the Rebels." "The Rebels?" "Yeah," Pan said. "The Rebels. They used to be part of the Smoker's pirate crew, but now they're their own gang." There was a sharp jerk on the rope, as whoever was working on it apparently finished tying it off, and Dana heard Pan grunt softly. Then he continued, "Anyway, they're not really that bad; they'll turn us loose in a little while. Won't you, Alex?" Dana heard a light, menacing chuckle coming from directly in front of her, and then the voice of the person who had captured her said, "Not a chance, Pan. This time you've gone too far." Suddenly Dana's blindfold was whipped away, and she found herself staring directly into a pair of malevolent green eyes. For a moment the eyes simply stared at her, and Dana felt herself becoming mesmerized and falling into them. The eyes were dark and intense; seductive and dangerous. They reminded her strongly of Pan's eyes -- but where Pan's gaze had seemed enticing and alluring, the eyes now looking at her were empty, and ultimately destructive. Abruptly the eyes pulled away, and as the figure standing in front of her straightened up, Dana was finally able to focus her attention on something other than his eyes. He was, she realized, a man rather than a boy. He was tall and dark-haired, with features which seemed more pretty than handsome. He wore black jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket, and on his face was a smirk which looked rather permanent, as if the man had no other facial expression. "You've gone too far this time, Pan," the man repeated -- Alex, she remembered. Pan had addressed him as Alex. "I don't give a good God damn what your reasons are; you're going to give her back, and you're going to do it now." Dana felt herself flushing at the use of profanity, but before she really had time to process her own reaction, Pan replied, "Sure. Fine. Whatever." His voice was heavy with sarcasm, and Dana craned her neck in an effort to see his face. But the tree the two of them were tied to was large, and Pan was far enough around the trunk so as to be out of her range of vision. "I mean it, Pan!" Alex said sharply. "I know we screw around a lot, but this is serious. What have you done with Diana?" "Diana? She's missing?" The sarcasm was suddenly gone from Pan's voice, replaced with doubt and concern, and again Dana craned her neck, trying without success to get a glimpse of his features. Who was Diana? Obviously, it was someone who mattered to Pan -- "As if you didn't know," Alex replied. Suddenly his eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward until he was out of Dana's line of sight, presumably directly in front of Pan. "Where is she?" Dana shivered at the man's intense, menacing tone. "Oh, please, Alex," Pan replied. "This isn't my week to watch her." His words were flip, but his tone seemed even more worried than it had been. "Look, turn me loose, and I'll find her for you." "Yeah, right." There was a moment of silence, and Dana had the eerie feeling that Pan and Alex were communicating somehow without speaking. Then: "Fine. But you better not screw this up, Pan. Be a pity to have to send your friend, here, to the boxcars." Another brief silence, then Alex laughed. "Whatever, Pan. Just remember what happened to Cassandra." There was a brief, quiet rustling sound, which quickly faded away to nothing, and Dana realized that Alex must have left. For a moment she wondered if Pan had gone with him -- but that couldn't be, because the rope binding both of them to the tree hadn't been disturbed. At least, she *thought* they were both bound by the same rope. She hadn't actually seen it of course, so she didn't really know for sure. One way to find out. "Pan?" she asked, hating herself for the quaver in her voice. Still, she'd been through a lot today, she reasoned. Surely she was entitled to a *little* uncertainty. "Pan?" she repeated, more strongly. "Are you there?" "Yeah, Wendy." The response was immediate, and Pan's tone seemed to be surprisingly good humored. "Pan, what's going on?" she asked. "Who's Diana, and why does, does Alex think you have her?" She wanted to ask more -- she wanted to ask what Alex had meant when he talked about sending her to the boxcars. But she couldn't quite bring herself to ask that question. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer. "Oh, Diana's just this girl," Pan replied. His voice sounded casual, but Dana thought she also detected an overlay of ... something. As if there was more to it than he was saying. Dana felt an inexplicable surge of annoyance, but quickly tamped it down. There was no time for that -- and no reason, either. "Just a girl?" she persisted. "But why does Alex think you've got her? And why does he care?" "That's complicated," Pan replied. Dana waited for a minute or so for him to continue; when it became plain that he wasn't going to do so, she shook her head in exasperation, and tried another tack. "So why are you still here?" she asked. "I thought you were going to rescue her, or whatever." "Not now," Pan replied. "We can't do it until morning; we have to wait for low tide. You know how it is." Dana raised her eyebrows at the use of "we" rather than "I", but before she could comment, he went on, "So for now, we just hang out and relax. Alex'll be back in the morning." "So we just ... wait?" Dana didn't even bother to try to keep the incredulity from her voice. "Sure," he replied, the tones of good humor back in his voice. "Try to get some sleep if you can. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day." And that, Dana realized, was all that she was going to get out of him. She'd only known this boy for one day, but she'd already discovered him to be amazingly adept at avoiding any serious discussion of anything. Or was he adept? She pondered that for a minute. Despite the fact that she frequently found him to be little short of infuriating, he truly seemed to have a good heart. He just needed to find a little focus in his life, she concluded sleepily. A little direction. He needed ... a partner. She was still considering the matter when she drifted off to sleep. ================END CHAPTER FOUR================