Chapter Text
Growing up, the threat of abduction was very real. Her father always warned her:
Be aware of your surroundings.
One day, Lena’s favorite teacher offers to wait with her for the towncar after school one day. Lena enthusiastically obliges, eager to spend more time with one of the few teachers who isn’t pestered by her constant questions in class, who lets her talk to her heart’s content.
Lena gushes about molecular cohesion-- repeating Lex’s recent explanation almost verbatim-- until the town car arrives. She only pauses when she notices that the license plate on the car is different than the one that picked her up from home that morning. Usually, they match.
In fact, she’s never seen this plate number before.
But her teacher leads her towards it while asking about surface tension, and Lena thinks maybe Miss Davenport recognizes the driver. But as they near, he doesn't get out to meet them like he usually does.
Lena starts to drag her feet, dread pooling in her stomach. Miss Davenport’s hand tightens, all but dragging her now. Danger lodges itself in her throat, and Lena remembers her father’s words.
Aim low, hit hard, run fast.
Just as they near the car, Lena drops her backpack and elbows her teacher in the abdomen before stomping hard on her foot. Miss Davenport curses, and releases her, and that's all Lena needs. She turns to run, but the car door opens and a heavy arm catches her around the waist and hauls her inside, legs kicking and flailing ineffectually. Her teacher climbs in after them, backpack in hand.
Lena kicks at her when her head is in range-- her shoe catches her in the mouth with a satisfying crunch.
The dark curse and murderous glare that burns at her from behind a bloody snarl looks nothing like her teacher. It chills Lena, makes her freeze for precious seconds. Then Miss Davenport reels back and slaps Lena across the cheek with stunning force.
When Lena's vision clears the man who snatched her has his arms wrapped tight around her, pinning her arms against the front of her chest while one legs press her feet to the seat under his thighs.
"Let go!" Lena bellows at the top of her lungs. The car is in motion now, rapidly passing beyond the circle of familiarity that surrounds her school. "Let me go! Let me go, let me go, let me go!!"
She squirms and twists with all of her might, but she is small and the man is strong. She thrashes her head, searching for a nose, a cheek, anything she can hit with enough force to make him loosen his grip.
Be loud, her father’s voice reminds her.
Lena screams, as loud and ear splitting as her 7 year old throat can muster. The man holding her tries to shove her wrists into one hand so he can cover her mouth, and she twists one hand free and reaches blindly up behind her to claw sharp fingernails at his eyes.
She catches something soft that tears, spilling blood across her fingertips. For the briefest of moments, his grip loosens and Lena wastes no time. She lunges for the passenger door.
Lena yanks on the handle, but nothing happens.
She pulls again, but there’s no catch, no release, and then hands haul her back. Something wide and rough pushes into her mouth, silencing her shouts as she squirms. Plastic zip ties tightly cinch her wrists together in front of her, and another binds her ankles uncomfortably tight.
"Get the brat in the bag, now," a voice growls from somewhere behind her. In a blur of movement, Lena is shoved into a large duffel bag that smells of mildew and sweat. The furious, bloody glare of Miss Davenport is the last thing Lena sees before the zipper closes over her head.