"We may have a long wait ahead of us. I guess I should get all the information I can out of you."

Jimmy's heart raced. He wondered what kind of torture Krycek would use first.

"So. You ticklish?"

That wasn't what he'd expected. At least it wouldn't hurt. But he felt suddenly very vulnerable. His armpits were exposed and in easy reach of Krycek, and there wasn't a thing Jimmy could do about it.

Krycek reached out and lightly swirled the hairs in the armpit that was closer to him. Jimmy squirmed, and said, "What do you want to know?"

"What's the code you use to unlock your door?"

"You're not gonna make me talk." Jimmy managed to keep silent for a few minutes, except when an involuntary laugh escaped his lips, but Krycek's light tickling was becoming unbearable. "They've probably ... changed it by now," he finally gasped.

"Tell me anyway," Krycek whispered dangerously, running his fingers lightly down Jimmy's ribs. He waited a moment, then suddenly attacked the armpit with all his fingers. Jimmy threw back his head and laughed.

Finally he couldn't take it anymore. "It's written... on my hand," he blurted. His lungs were getting sore, like he'd run a few miles.

Krycek barely glanced at it. "It's too blurry to read. Tell me the code." He dug into Jimmy's ribs.

"I... I can't remember." He really couldn't, not now. But at Krycek's insistence, he gasped out a few guesses.

After about then fifth try, Krycek said, "Close enough," and stopped his torment.

Breakfast was quiet, as it was even under normal circumstances. Langly and Frohike had their faces buried in newspapers as usual, doing their daily scan for hints of new conspiracies to uncover. Byers picked at his soggy cold cereal, craving pancakes. Jimmy had worked so hard at being a good cook, as though trying to find any way he could to contribute to the cause. He was always there to pitch in when furniture and equipment needed to be moved, which was truly useful since he had no trouble hefting the largest CRTs. (A harrowing thing to watch, but he hadn't dropped one yet. Just the van.) Once or twice a week, he had treated them to pancakes. Byers had noticed how disappointed the poor guy was when his friends, intent on their reading, barely seemed to notice what they were eating. Byers could have tried to show his appreciation. And now it might be too late.

"Any clues?" he asked. Might as well give them the benefit of a doubt.

"Clues?" asked Langly blankly.

"He means about Jimmy's whereabouts," Frohike told him.

"Oh! Right. Of course, I was, uh, so busy looking for clues I wasn't..." Langly didn't bother to finish. Byers had known him for far too long to be fooled so easily, and when their eyes met he could tell that Langly could tell that could he tell that he was lying.

"Be sure to watch for stories about stranded motorists having their cars rolled into ditches by helpful passers-by," Frohike suggested.

"Don't you think those papers might be a little out of date to have anything useful?" Byers asked mildly.

"You still think the picture was real?" Frohike asked him soberly.

"We have to assume it was. Jimmy clearly went with him How else do you explain the note he left? And if he's with Krycek, he's obviously in danger."

"I'll get online right now," Langly said. "Just in case." Byers shot him a grateful look. He caught it, but if anything looked more guilty, adding loudly as he headed for the computers, "Yeah, nothing like coffee and a good breakfast to get the brain in gear."

Jimmy cursed himself for being gullible enough to get himself into this position. However cool it might have seemed at first to find himself held captive by a real spy, the reality was beginning to sink in. He was in deep trouble. Even though he didn't think Krycek would kill him, he wasn't sure what he was planning to do with him. At the very least, he might hold him prisoner indefinitely. The motel room was already making him feel claustrophobic. Jimmy was an outdoors kind of guy by preference. These days, spending time with his geeky friends sometimes meant being cooped up inside more than he would like. But that was by choice, and the privilege of working with those guys made it well worth it. He understood now exactly what Simon had meant about the whole world being a cage when you were alone. Jimmy had been in jail with his friends, and that'd been no big deal. Once he had even been locked up in a maximum security prison, and that had been bad, but not as bad as this. Not as long as Byers had been there in the next cell, and they could at least talk to each other. In fact, that hadn't been half as bad a couple of times he himself had been safe, but was convinced all three of his friends had been killed and that he'd have to go on alone. Yeah, freedom alone definitely sucked worse than captivity with his friends. But captivity by himself was going to be pure hell.

Going with Krycek was the stupidest thing he'd ever done. Well, recently, anyway. Accepting all that money from fake anonymous donors to set up his blind football team was probably stupider. Having to tell those men that there was no league, and that the team would have to disband now that the money had evaporated, was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. He'd built up his men's dreams only to shatter them, because of his gullibility, and he hated himself for it. And now he'd done something even worse. The guys would be worried about him, especially Byers. He was sure that they'd try to rescue him, even if it meant risking their own lives. He was reluctant to admit it to himself, but he was going to have to swallow his pride and try to get help from any strangers who might be in earshot. There must be other people in this motel.

"Help!" he yelled as loud as he could. "Help! I'm being held--"

Krycek reacted quickly, stuffing a washcloth into his mouth. He shook his head sadly. "I guess you had to try that once, didn't you. It's not going to do you any good. The walls have pretty good soundproofing. Besides, there's only one room next to this one, and I rented that too. But I can't take chances, so I'll have to teach you what happens when you do that."

He reached for Jimmy's belt buckle. Jimmy squirmed, but Krycek deftly undid the buckle with one hand. He then laid his hand on Jimmy's stomach and said, "The more you struggle, the worse this going to be."

Jimmy lay still, breathing hard through the washcloth. This was it. Krycek was gonna hurt him.

Krycek pulled at the belt, and Jimmy felt it slide around his waist and come free. "Roll over," Krycek said quietly. When Jimmy didn't move, he repeated the order. This time, when Jimmy didn't obey instantly, he slapped the belt across his chest like a whip. It stung like anything. Then he held it ready again, this time over Jimmy's belly. "Roll over," he whispered in a dangerous tone.

Jimmy obeyed. The chains had just enough slack to let him cross his arms and place his head between them, although it wasn't a comfortable position. He soon forgot about that as pain lashed across his back. He was still recovering from that when it was repeated. He bit down hard on the washcloth and steeled himself for the next lash. Just as he decided it wasn't coming, it did, harder than before. Then again. Then a long pause, just enough for him to hope Krycek was done, and then yet another lash. He wanted to try to spit out the washcloth and plead for him to stop, but he was afraid that his grunts -- okay, screams -- would make Krycek punish him even more, if he didn't have the washcloth to muffle them.

After six lashes criss-crossing his back, Krycek stopped for a long time. Jimmy's back throbbed for a while, then slowly started to feel a little better. He thought he'd heard the belt hit the carpet, and began to hope the punishment was over.

Suddenly, something seemed to burn a hole into his back, like acid was being poured over it. He screamed into the washcloth.

"Have I made my point?" Krycek asked.

Jimmy nodded, his face buried in a pillow. Krycek had made his point very well -- that he could do anything he wanted to Jimmy, and there wasn't a thing Jimmy could do about it.

"That was just the isopropyl alcohol, in case you were wondering. Are you going to cooperate now?"

Jimmy nodded again.

"If you so much as raise your voice again, or make any attempt to escape, I'm going to whip you until you're bloody, and then pour this whole damn bottle over you. Do you understand?"

Jimmy nodded miserably, his back still burning.

Krycek stood up, and Jimmy heard water running, and some rustling as Krycek got out whatever torture device he planned to use on him next. But he just felt a cool washcloth gently patting his back, easing the burning. Then a hand smeared some wonderfully cooling gel stuff over his back, and the pain immediately began to dull.

The hand touched his shoulder. "Stick to that agreement, and do everything I say, and we won't need to do this shit anymore, okay?" Jimmy nodded again, and the hand squeezed his shoulder.

He felt a towel laid across his back. "You can roll over again now," Krycek said gently.

Krycek removed the washcloth from his mouth, and let him rest while he did something at the desk involving a palmtop computer and a little bottle like he'd seen in the hospital. The pain in his back slowly faded to nothing.

If he ever got loose, Jimmy told himself, he was going to rip Krycek's shirt off and show him what it felt like to be lashed across the back with Jimmy's belt. But he knew what would happen if he made any threats now, while he was tied up and at Krycek's mercy.