When Bon woke up again, he was lying on the cold floor. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and then looked around. A dark room. An old bulb hung from the ceiling and shone a little. There was an old, dirty mattress next to the wall. Bon took a closer look. It looked like it had even been peed. He made a face. There were holes and a metal spring stuck out. There was a blanket on it. Bon continued to look around. It seemed like it was a big old cellar. The walls were wet and rough. There was no window.

"Hello?" He asked hypocritically and walked through the dark room. His eyes were used to the darkness now. "Hello? Is anyone here?" He walked on and came to a table. Why is there a table here? The singer asked himself, scratching the back of his head. He kept exploring the room until his eyes grew huge. "Mal!" He screamed and ran towards the still unconscious guitarist. Malcolm's hands were tied together and he lay weak on the floor. "Oh god." Bon's hands shook badly as he grabbed his crush. Crap. He turned Malcolm slowly. His eyes were closed and a bruise had formed on his left cheekbone. Bon pulled him close and rocked him a little. "Come on. Wake up, honey." He whispered softly. God. He loved this man so much. But Malcolm wouldn't understand. He brushed the dark hair from Malcolm's cold face. "Come on. Wake up, Mal." Malcolm grumbled softly and pressed himself against the singer. Bon froze a little before recovering and taking Malcolm's hand. "Come on. Wake up." The younger one slowly opened his eyes.

"Bon?" He breathed exhausted.

"Yes. I'm here." Bon nodded and smiled.

"Where are we?" Malcolm whispered.

"I don't know." Bon muttered. "We're in a basement." Malcolm's eyes widened as he could remember everything.

"We were kidnapped! We got kidnapped, Bon!" He screamed as he jumped up.

"I know." Bon sighed. "The question is why and by whom." Suddenly they both heard a loud squeak and light streamed into the room as a heavy iron door was pushed open. The two musicians both got up and withdrew fearfully into a corner until their backs were against the wall.

"Those are good questions, Mr. Scott." Said a harsh and deep voice. A bright light came on and the two friends groaned and closed their eyes as they turned away from the light source. It was just too bright. After a short time, they could see normally again and turned back. A tall, slim man with a dark brown mustache and black hair stood before them. He had scars on his face and a lot of pimples. But he looked really old. Malcolm made a face. Damn it. He had thought that he was ugly himself, but that ... "Well. My name is Leroy Brown." Said the man. Bon couldn't help but laugh.

"Really? What's your name?" Leroy glared at him.

"Shut up, Scott." He growled. Bon looked at him in surprise.

"You can keep arguing about names, but during that time I'll get out of here!" Malcolm shouted as he ran towards the iron door. He disappeared from the room.

"Don't you want to bring him back?" Asked Bon. His heart ached. Malcolm would have just left him here and escaped alone? Leroy shook his head, grinning.

"You don't honestly think that I'm alone here, do you?" There was a loud thump and then a broad-shouldered man came into the room. He held Malcolm up by the collar of his jacket. Malcolm's nose was bleeding profusely. "Nice try, Young. But that didn't work out." Leroy laughed and snapped his fingers. The man nodded and disappeared. He closed the door behind him and there was silence in the room for a while.

"Are you okay?" Bon asked worriedly, looking at Malcolm, who was holding a hand under his nose to catch the blood.

"Mh." Malcolm growled angrily.

"Back to your question, Mr. Scott." Leroy said. "You were captured and are now in a basement."

"Why?" Asked Bon.

"Well ..." Leroy walked up to Malcolm and ran his finger over Malcolm's cheek. The younger looked angry but also surprised. Bon felt a deep rumble in his chest. No one, absolutely no one except maybe Angus had the right to touch Malcolm! Leroy withdrew his hand. "Your father was in the army with me." He said then, looking into Malcolm's eyes.

"And that's a reason to kidnap us!? My father's been dead since three years!" Malcolm exclaimed angrily. Leroy laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. Not even a sad one or an angry one. It was a dead laugh. And that sent shivers down Bon's spine. This man was crazy. He was just crazy.

"That's exactly why you're here and not him." Leroy grinned. "Your father ... he was a weird pig."

"Watch out, what you're saying about my father." Malcolm growled. Leroy looked at him unimpressed.

"We were friends. In war. One covered the other. But then ... one day we were sent to the front. Your father was badly wounded. I managed to save his life by carrying him to the camp. He was seriously injured and had an immediate operation. I hoped he would survive and he did." Leroy giggled again and sat down on the wooden table in the room. Bon looked carefully at Malcolm. What was going through the smaller man's mind? In any case, his posture and facial expressions didn't reveal anything. "Well ... when I think about it now, he should have died." Leroy sighed. "He was sent home because he was unfit for war."

"And what does all this have to do with me?" Malcolm asked angrily.

"Patience, little one. I'm not done yet." Leroy grinned. "So your father was sent back to Scotland. Mh. He came home as a war hero. And do you know what he did then? Mh? He visited my girlfriend to tell her that I was in a good shape."

"So what?" Bon asked, puzzled. Leroy licked his lips.

"When I came home two years later, I met her at your father's house. She was holding a child. A second grew inside her and she had a gold ring around her finger. Guess who gave her the ring?" Malcolm's eyes widened.

"Dad." He whispered in shock.

"I agree. The lousy impostor who was your father. He married her and made her pregnant."

"M ... my mother was ..."

"My girlfriend? Yes. She was my girlfriend." Leroy grinned.

"This ... is all very tragic, but what does that have to do with the fact that we're here? She just fell in love with someone else and? You can't choose love." Malcolm said blankly.

"I'll take revenge and believe me, boy. In all the years of watching her and your mangy family, many things have occurred to me that I would have done to him. Well, yes." He shrugged. "As you know, your father is dead, so ..." Bon's eyes widened.

"No." He said in a stern tone. Leroy looked at him unimpressed. He rolled his eyes and took an old revolver out of his pocket. He raised his hand and before anyone could react he shot Malcolm's left shoulder. The guitarist stared in shock at his shoulder, which was starting to run blood. The red liquid collected in his dark blue denim jacket, which had now a hole. "No!" Bon screamed and ran towards Malcolm. He held him tight. The younger turned his head and looked at Bon with watery eyes. His fingers dug into Bon's shirt.

"It hurts." He whimpered softly.

"Sh. Is good. I know." Bon said shakily. Leroy went to the iron door, laughing, and knocked on it. It opened up. Bon looked angrily after him.

"Have fun. Both of you." With that he went out and the door slammed. It was dead silent. Only the hum of the lamp could be heard.

"Crap. Come on, Mal. Come on." Bon whimpered, brushing Malcolm's long, dark strands of hair off Malcolm's pale face.

"It hurts." Whispered the younger one.

"I ... I know. Shit." Bon picked Malcolm up and carried him to the mattress. He put the clean blanket over it and then put Malcolm on top. The mattress was really disgusting, but what if you had nothing else? Malcolm shivered and looked at Bon with watery eyes. The singer was overwhelmed. His heart was beating too fast in his chest and fear built up in his body. What should he do? His hands started to sweat. "I ... shit. What ... what should we do? You mustn't die, Mal." He cried.

"Calm down." Malcolm muttered. "I ... I won't die from it." He coughed a little.

"O ... okay. Okay." Bon tried to take a deep breath. "I can do it." He muttered, lifting Malcolm a little. The younger groaned as Bon removed his jacket and his tight white shirt. Malcolm ony ware his jeans now. Bon knelt over him. Crap. Bon enjoyed the view to the full. His eyes looked at Malcolm hungrily. And if they hadn't been in this situation, Bon's little devil would certainly have woken up. But he suppressed it. His hands slowly came to rest on Malcolm's injured shoulder. "Okay, Mally. Okay." He whispered a little and turned Malcolm a little to see if the bullet had gone through. But it wasn't. "Shit." Bon grumbled.

"What's going on?" Malcolm muttered through clenched teeth.

"The bullet is still in. We have to get it out." Said Bon and looked at his friend worriedly. Malcolm's fear grew. Crap. It hurt so much and he ... fuck he was so scared. He didn't want to die, he wanted to go home. "I ... I'll do this, Mal. You don't have to be afraid." Bon tried to calm him down. Well ... he also tried to calm himself down, since he was really scared. Maybe more than the injured man. "OK. Close... close your eyes, Mal." Malcolm nodded fearfully and slowly closed his eyes. Bon looked at him in love. God. He loved him so damn much. So much so that his heart ached. Stop it! He needs you! You can rave about him later! His confidence yelled at him. Bon nodded a little. He rummaged around in his jacket pockets until he found a wooden trailer that he always had with him. Otherwise he had nothing in his pocket. The wood was very expensive and had patterns on it. His grandpa had given it to him. Bon loved this pendant and he didn't mean to break it, but ... shit. Mal needed something he could bite on. So he picked up the pendant.

"Open your mouth, Mal." He said gently. Malcolm looked puzzled, but then did so. Bon clamped the wood between Mal's teeth and stroked his icy cheek. "Take a bite, okay? Bite it as hard as you can." Malcolm nodded, whimpering, and did so. His teeth pressed into the wood. Bon swallowed hard and carefully placed his finger on the gunshot wound. Malcolm whimpered. Bon looked at him briefly, then dipped two fingers into the hole. Malcolm whined loudly and tried to sit up. Bon sat on Malcolm's lap and pushed him down like that. "I know it hurts. Sh. It'll be over soon." Bon muttered as he pushed his fingers deeper and searched for the bullet. Malcolm screamed through the wood and bit it so hard that Bon thought he heard it break. Tears ran down Malcolm's beautiful, milky cheeks.

"Sh. It'll be over soon. I'll have it in a minute." Bon muttered. Malcolm screamed through clenched teeth. His legs kicked wildly. Bon had Malcolm's hands firmly clamped between his thighs and continued to dig with his hand until he felt the bullet and pulled it out. He looked at the bloody ball in his fingers. "Sh. It's fine, honey. It's over." Bon consoled and brushed the tears from Malcolm's cheeks. Crap. He wanted so badly to kiss him. Kiss and hold him and tell him everything would be fine. But he wasn't allowed to. He wasn't allowed to. He opened his legs and let go of Malcolm's hands. He carefully pulled the piece of wood out of Mal's mouth. Malcolm sobbed softly.

The dark wood, Bon had loved so much, now had clear prints from Malcolm's teeth. As if you had punched holes in it. Bon sighed. At least Malcolm was better now. Not caring that Malcolm's saliva was on the jewel, he put it back in his jacket pocket. "Sh. You did it. You did well. Everything's fine, Mally. Don't Cry. Everything's fine." Bon pulled him carefully and hugged him gently. Malcolm was crying in Bon's chest. "All is well."

"I want to go home." Malcolm whimpered.

"Sh. I know. I know. I want to get out of here too. I want to go home too. But ... bet Ang, Cliff and Phil are already looking for us? They've almost found us." He stroked Malcolm's hair gently. Malcolm wept weakly over the persistent pain. "Let's hope so." Bon whispered.