Six-month pregnant Abigail Chase was walking down a mostly deserted French Boulevard and enjoying the sunshine. Her husband hadn't come along with her due to the ever-present excuse of having to make a new lecture and deliver it. She was looking at a display of market apples when a piece of duct tape, or was it?, was placed on her mouth and she was carried into a plush car.

"Where is your husband, Dr. Chase?" a man with a Welsh accent inquired. He pulled the tape off of her mouth quickly, knowing she wouldn't scream.

"Dr. Gates," Abigail corrected. "I have no idea." Th captor began tying her hands together tightly with packaging tape.

"Bullshit," the man quipped. "Where is your husband?"

"I'd rather die than tell you." Abigail spat in his face, but he only wiped it away with mild interest.

"Well, then how about you tell me about Riley Poole's whereabouts." It was an order, not a request.

"Telling the truth, I still have no idea," Abigail answered. "Why don't you ask my husband?"

"Very funny. Tell me where they are."

"Riley changes his address frequently. I wouldn't have any idea where he is. I heard he changed a couple weeks ago, but I haven't heard from him since. My husband is in some place of which I do not know."

"Likely story, Dr. Chase." He began re-taping her mouth.

Abigail didn't feel like correcting it even if she could. She thought it might let her captors have an excuse to use it against her at some point if she struggled. Luckily, she was forced out of the car and into a Victorian-era house of the richer population.

A/N: This was an intro, so it doesn't need to be exceedingly long.