Letha folded her arms across her chest and deliberately stared at the dash. The sun reflected off the surface, so her glare was half squint, half annoyance. Mostly annoyance.

Looking awkwardly up at the man with the gun, Mickey shrugged. The biker jerked his chin and the gun behind Mickey pressed up against his back.

"Letha," the boy said softly, leaning his forehead against the top of the car. "You do realise we are being held at gun point?"

She snorted. "No, Sherlock, you are being held at gun point. I am sitting a crappy excuse for a car."

Mickey winced, and rubbed his car, murmuring, "She didn't mean it." He frowned at Letha. "And you have a gun aimed at your face as well, Letha."

Stubbornly, the girl shook her head. "No I don't."

"Yeah," Mickey said, raising an eyebrow, "you do. Look, denial is one thing but..."

"I am not in denial," she erupted, slamming her fist into steering wheel. The horn blared loudly and she repeated the movement with her other hand. She kept going, pummelling the wheel with all her might as it sang an awful, grating song around her.

The motorbike rider raised his helmet, apparently looking at Mickey, who glared at him incredulously.

"You know what?" he said, folding his arms across his chest, "I honestly don't even care. This whole 'gunpoint thing' is your gig, and I'm sure as hell not here to help you with it." So saying, He turned away from the man, leaning his back against the care. The young woman aiming the gun at him flinched, her wide eyes reflecting his glare.

Letha's anger hadn't waned, and her hands continued their off kilter melody until the car window beside her shattered. The elbow that had been used caught her on the cheekbone and she gasped as her head whipped the other way. The door was quickly pulled open and Letha was reefed out by her collar before being thrown to the ground on her knees. Raising her head, she glared at the man and slowly dragged the back of her hand across her cheek. It came away bloody, though the blow hadn't broken the skin, and she smirked.

"Missing something?"

Switching the gun to his other hand and keeping his eyes trained on hers, the guy cupped his elbow, letting his eyes flicker down to see the red smudge on the palm of his other hand. He grunted.

"What the...!" Mickey was standing with his hands clutching the side of his head, mouth open is shock as he looked at his vehicle. "What did you do to my car?"

Letha swung to head to face him, her expression flat. "Emergency evacuation."

"You," his gaze narrowed in on her, his breath coming out in an angry snort, "I blame you for this."

"Well I blame you for this," she gestured the man looming over her, "So I guess we're even."

The barrel of the gun came back into Letha's line of sight, and she ground her teeth together, reisting the urge to try and kick it out of his hand; she would be no use to Hadrian dead.

"Shut up and get up," the man grunted, his voice husky and low.

Grudgingly, Letha obeyed, scrambling to her feet. She couldn't resist commenting: "Wow, it speaks."

A hand gripped her shoulder and she was suddenly propelled towards the woman's 'broken down' sedan. She stumbled, caught herself before she fell and then tried to keep as much of her dignity in tact as she walked. Mickey on the other hand had no such qualms; he was pouting, slouching and sulking for all he was worth.

They reached the car, and Letha looked it over in distaste. "See Sherlock, we're going to get out of this just fine."

"What makes you say that?" Mickey asked hesitantly, biting his lip as he saw the troublesome glint in her eye; he was curious about what she'd say, even though he was fairly sure it wouldn't help the situation.

"Kidnappers work on commission, right?" She smirked. "They must never get their bounty if they drive this piece of crap."

The man grunted again, giving her another shove around to the back of the car. Though she couldn't see his face, Letha could feel his self-satisfied smile burning into the back of her skull as he popped the boot and gestured her inside. Mickey stumbled around next to her and sighed.

"You had to comment on the car."

Each received a prod in the back from their respective guns, and he gestured to Letha.

"Ladies first."

"Age before beauty," she shot back immediately, pursing her lips.

One of the guns clicked behind them, and Mickey got the message, lifting a foot quickly to step inside. He jumped slightly and kind of threw himself inside, smacking into the back of the boot with a resounding thud. Letha turned, sat on the edge and slipped in with considerably more grace, before stretching out.

"Have you..." Mickey asked, raising a brow, "done this before?"

She didn't reply. Their female kidnapper passed her gun to the biker, before stepping forward and drawing two zip ties out of her pocket. Both captives slowly raised their hands, wrists pressed together, and they were soon bound. The woman smiled almost apologetically and shuffled back, waiting for them to lower their hands before she slammed the boot shut.

"Well, this is spacious," Mickey breathed, trying to roll over. This cheek was pressed painfully against a corner of metal, most of his weight on one hip. Raising his hands, he traced the roof cautiously.

Suddenly, his shirt was jerked backwards, the collar clutching at his throat.

"Was that a joke, Sherlock?" Letha demanded, her grip tightening, "Because I would have thought someone in your position would be smarter than that."

Mickey swallowed. "And what position would that be?"

"Fetal."

Before he could stop himself, Mickey burst out laughing. He squirmed around, reefing his shirt free easily.

"Was that a joke, Letha?" he chuckled, grinning broadly, "Because..."

"Shut up, Sherlock."

The car thrummed to life, their prison vibrating slight. Slowly, Mickey's smile dimmed, and he took a deep, steadying breath. "Is it just me, or is it getting smaller in here?"

"It's just you."

"Are you sure?"

"Shut up."

"We could suffocate in here," he cleared his throat, his breath shallow and scratchy, "I can practically feel it filling up with carbon dioxide as it is."

"Sherlock, you are not going to die in here," Letha snapped, grinding her teeth, "We're going to get out of here just fine and then I'm going to kill you. And if you do die in here I'm holding the crazy girl and the motorbike dude directly responsible for ruining my fun, and I'll kill them too." She took a deep breath, glaring off into the shadows.

Smiling once more, Mickey looked at where he thought Letha's face was. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Shut up."

He stared up at the roof, shutting his eyes and trying to keep his breathing even. "Seriously though, thank you for that. I'm really not a fan of small spaces."

"I hadn't noticed," Letha grumbled grudgingly, "But you've got a point."

"Oh? What are you afraid of?"

"Jesus-freaks."

Mickey snorted. "Cue the end of the gratitude."

"Ok, Sherlock," She muttered, and Mickey felt her wriggle around a bit, "Live up to your name: how are we going to get out of here."

Drawing air in through his teeth is an uncomfortable whistle, Mickey drummed his fingers on the side of the boot. He feel Letha's glare burning into his cheek, and he rolled his shoulders.

"Despite how comforting this silence is, Sherlock, I have to ask; do you or do you not have a plan."

From her steely tone, Mickey could tell there was only one satisfactory answer.

"Well..." he wriggled again, and felt something in his pocket.  He almost shouted in delight. "Ah ha! We can call Azrael."

Letha's glare, though he still couldn't see her face, went flat. "With what?"

"My mobile. It's in my pocket."

"You've had a phone this whole time and you didn't think to use it?" Letha screeched, lashing out with her hands. She caught Mickey in the stomach and he grunted.

"Hey, I've had some other things on my mind. It's not every day I get kidnapped. Anyway, what' your excuse?"

"I," she growled, "don't have a phone, you idiot."

Snorting, Mickey nodded sceptically. "Sure. You're a teenage girl without a mobile."

"Who the hell am I going to call?" She demanded. The car went over a bump, sending her flying into the roof and she let out an angry cry. She landed with force on something soft, and it was Mickey's turn to shout out.

"Are you ok?" He asked, his breath coming out against her hair.

Letha's face was pressed against what felt suspiciously like his chest, and she mumbled grumpily as she tried to move away. "Fine. Get your phone. At this point, I am more than willing to be rescued by a bunch of cherubs."

"Just to check we're on the same page," he said, raising a brow, "those cherubs are my family?"

"They'd be the ones."

"Great."

Mickey tried to bring his arms down towards his pocket, and Letha yelped in response as his elbow connected with her face.

"Whatever you're doing, stop it," she ordered, trying to angle herself away from his limbs. Her hands were pinned between them, and as the car jiggled again she couldn't stop herself rolling into him.

"Well move then."

Sneering, Letha bit down on her growl. "Don't you think I'm trying?"

"Letha!" Exasperated, Mickey raised his arms above his head and jammed them in the space above their heads. "Pick an order; either I elbow you in the face or we stay stuck here and try our luck with our armed kidnappers."

Still seething, Letha pushed against him, trying to give herself some space. She was pressed flush against his, half on top, and the movement only caused her to bang her head on the roof. She cursed vibrantly and slipped again, her hands slipping down his side from waist to belt. Feeling him stiffen, she smirked.

"Fine, I'll get your damn phone."

Rolling onto her shoulder and trying to balance herself against Mickey's chest, Letha dragged her hands from where they were pinned and found his belt. Travelling down, she sought his pocket.

"Woah," Mickey would have lunged away had he been able, but he wasn't, so instead the only thing that happened was his exclamation came out choked. "That's not my pocket."

Letha frowned. "Then..."

"That's my fly. Your hands are on my fly." He interrupted quickly, pushing his pelvis into the floor of the boot.

Almost immediately Letha's hands jerked away, and she felt heat creep up her neck and into her cheeks.

"My, uh... the phone is in the, uh, pocket closest to you," Mickey supplied, avoiding her gaze even though he couldn't even see her eyes. He was glaring so strongly out of his peripherals it was giving him a headache.

Easily, Letha found his pocket and dug out the mobile, struggling to keep her thoughts on the task at hand. One of her nails grazed the lining of his pocket as she removed the phone, and Mickey flinched. Shaking her head, Letha glared at him.

"No need to panic, Sherlock."

"Just be aware," Mickey snapped, "That that is a very...tense area for a boy."

"Tense?" biting down on a grin, Letha snorted, "Interesting word choice."

Very slowly, he rolled towards her, gently moving himself slightly father away as he faced her. "Deliberate word choice."

As her previously retracting blush reappeared at full strength, Letha pressed a key on the phone, pausing at the lock screen.

"Passcode?"

"1234," Mickey mumbled.

Rolling her eyes, Letha typed it in easily. "Original."

The screen illuminated their faces, and Mickey could finally see the girl scrolling intensely on his mobile. Her red curls were brushed out of her face, her brow furrowed as she went through his contacts, and as she felt him watching she looked up. Her dark brown eyes, so close to black, met his and sparked.

"What?" she snapped.

"Are you..." Mickey smiled softly, attempting to tilt his head in the small space, "Are you blushing?"

For a second, her nostrils just flared, her mouth open in rage, and then she growled, "No." and offered no further explanation for her pink cheeks. Mickey would have pursued the matter, but in the next moment they hit a bump that flung them together once more, their foreheads colliding with a resounding crack.

Letha gasped, Mickey groaned, and they attempted to pull away from each other quickly.

"Shit!" Letha's head whipped around as she noticed she could barely see him anymore. "Where's the phone?"

"You can't have lost it! That's impossible."

"Thank you Captain obvious," she spat, "Of course I haven't lost it. I've dropped it. If I'd lost it, there would have to be a hole in here, or a portal to another dimension; either of which would be more helpful than the dropped phone."

Mickey grinned. "If we're voting..." he began cheekily, but Letha cut him off.

"Shut up Sherlock!"

Wriggling his fingers, he checked the space around their heads, ignoring the cussing that ensued when he accidentally grazed Letha's head. He repeated the process with his feet and was rewarded when his boot kicked something.

"I think I found it."

Letha slid her own foot around, questing for the device. "Can you grab it?"

Swinging his head in her general direction, Mickey shook his head, brow furrowed in amazement. "If I could bend down to pick it up, don't you think I could have gotten it out of my pocket as well?"

Grumbling, she jabbed him sharply in the stomach, rolling slightly until she was on her back. Letha's head was jammed up at an awkward angle as it rested on something she suspected was Mickey's arm, and she let out a loud breath.

Mickey ran his foot along the edge of his mobile, pressing it against the side of the boot as he tried to pin it between his feet. The device let out a beep, and he jolted, his arms slipping higher above his head. Letha grunted as her skull hit the metal.

The phone beeped again.

"I'm not sure what you said there, Mickey."

Letha grunted again. "What the hell was that?"

"Siri," Mickey said gleefully, pressing his phone again.

"What?"

"Not what, who."

"Fine," she snapped, eyes narrowed at where his head ought to be, "Who?"

"Siri."

"When we get out of here," Letha threatened, taking a deep breath, "I am going to kill..."

He hushed her as the phone beeped again.

"How can I help you, Mickey?"

"Call Azrael."

There was a moment of silence as the phone worked.

"I found 3 trains in your area."

Letha snorted, squirming, and jabbed him in the ribs. "What the hell is going on? Who are you talking to?"

"The phone." As if he could feel her glare, Mickey amended, "Well, the software on the phone."

"I found fifteen computer stores," the mobile commented, "They're pretty far from you."

"Siri!" He snapped, not daring to move in case the phone interpreted that as a word.

"yes, Mickey?"

"Please call Azrael."

There was a tense pause before: "Calling Azrael."

Mickey waited for Letha's comment, but after a single ring, Az answered.

"Hey Mickey. How's your day going? The school has called me twice about you skipping class – I think they think I didn't sound aggrieved enough during the first call. If they ask tomorrow, make sure they think you're grounded and..."

Halfway through his foster father's spiel, Mickey's eye began to twitch.

"Az, shut up for a second."

"Hey!" the angel complained, "if you're not careful I'll ground you for real."

Letha snorted, but Mickey ignored her. "We were kidnapped as we were driving home."

There was a moment of silence a Azrael absorbed that, only broken by the sound of their breathing.

"Ok. How long had you been travelling?"

Mickey sucked his teeth. "Maybe ten minutes? We hadn't reached the turn off to..."

"Hang on," Letha slowly swivelled her head to glare in his direction, her mouth open in outrage. "Are you telling me he knows where we went?"

"Yeah, I sent him a text before we left..."

"When you were refusing to tell me where we were going?"

Mickey wasn't quite sure what was happening, but he knew it wasn't good. "Yes?"

"You asshole!" she screeched, slapping his stomach as well as she could in the confined space. The movement made the ties dig into her wrists but she ignored the pain as she focussed on inflicting it.

"What? I texted Az to check it was a good idea to take you to see Min."

The phone crackled. "And I said yes." Azrael piped up.

"Oh, well look how well that turned out," Letha moaned, giving up on trying to hurt Mickey. "I can totally understand why we're calling him now to ty and get us out of the shit you've dug our graves in."

"Well," Az murmured, "That's a visual."

Mickey made a strangled sound. "I was trying to help you! I know it's a foreign concept to you, but do try to understand; I thought you and Min might connect."

"Well thanks, but I wasn't in the mood for a blind date today."

The car slammed to a stop, throwing Letha against Mickey and pressing him into the back of the boot.

"Mickey? Letha?" Azrael called anxiously after he heard their pained gasps, "Are you guys ok?"

Before either could respond, the roof on their prison disappeared, and both blinked at the sudden intrusion of sunlight. As her eyes adjusted, Letha started shaking her head, rolling her eyes at the woman staring down at them sadly.

"Well," she hissed, "I guess we connected more than I thought."