Hey, all! Thanks for your great critiques and support so far. I promise I'm going to edit, add chapters, elongate, and make it much much better - all because of YOU!

Helpful questions:

1. What is the capitol of Assyria?

2. Is this chapter kind of useless? I mean, do you feel that I could have just done without it and moved on to funner things?

Penelope was holding herself together by only the barest thread. She felt that if she spoke, or Derik spoke, or anyone made any noise, she would break apart and all her pieces would start sobbing as hard as they could. Her head ached abominably and she knew that she hadn't absorbed anything that had just happened. And she was so cold. That's all she could think about. She had already been cold all day, and the flight with the dragon had driven the cold into her very bones. Penelope didn't even notice her surroundings as they passed through what seemed like an interminably long hallway. She kept her eyes on the broad back ahead of her and concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. She couldn't feel anything in her fingers or her feet, so it felt rather strange, as if she were walking on her ankles.

Abruptly the suited back stopped moving, and Penelope helplessly felt her legs keep walking. It was as if she had no command over what her limbs did, and she couldn't stop herself from banging into him.

"Whoa, look out there." Derik's deep, pleasant voice wasn't as detrimental to her condition as she'd thought it would be.

Penelope found herself falling and calmly thought that unless she put out her hands, she would crack her head on the stone floor. Then she stopped falling, and wondered briefly why, until she saw his large hand circling her wrist. He looked a little concerned, but Penelope couldn't find it in her to speak, or move, or do anything. She couldn't even feel her customary fear at the touch of another person. But then, she couldn't exactly feel his fingers pressing her skin, so why should she be frightened?

"Penelope, are you all right? Your hands are so cold." His own hands closed around them and she could only stare blankly.

Then her knees buckled, and her vision began to darken, and she thought, this is it, I'm going to faint for the first time in my life. How strange.

***

"Penelope. Penelope! What's wrong? Are you all right? You're killing me, here."

Penelope heard a voice in the distance, and though she didn't recognize it, she felt obligated out of politeness to attempt to open her eyes. When she did, a lovely pair of blue eyes hovered far too close to her for comfort. She sighed deeply as she remembered. She was in some kind of bizarre dream where strange thing after strange thing kept happening. But it was all right, because it was just a dream.

"It's okay, Derik. It doesn't matter, it's all a dream," she muttered. Then she sat up and looked around, and realized that it wasn't a dream. "Okay, but it sure feels like it," she said. She was on a very comfortable queen-size bed with flowered quilts and a lot of pillows. A small lamp was set on a bedside table, and there was a large closet in the corner. There was a blue rug covering the stone floor, and her bag was on top of a wooden clothes dresser.

"What's wrong, Penelope?" Derik asked. He was still too close, Penelope thought.

"My feet," she said aloud. "And my hands. I can't move them. I can't think, but I think I'm cold. I think. I don't know, I can't think."

"You said that," said Derik, slightly amused. He looked down at her feet and gasped. "Your feet are so white! Why didn't you say something before?"

He started rubbing them briskly with his hands before Penelope touched his shoulder.

"Could you spend time on my hands first? I kind of need them more than I do my feet," she explained.

Derik stared at her for a second, then laughed heartily as he took her hands and started rubbing them instead. "You are one strange person, Penelope Eros. But I think I like you anyway."

"Well, thanks," said Penelope. "The jury is still out on you. I mean, what kind of a person uses a dragon to steal helpless women from their homes? And you're so egotistical. Hmm...I think if I met you at a party I'd like you, but as it is you're not my favorite guy in the world."

"Do you have a favorite guy in the world?" Derik asked, putting her hands on his shirt underneath his suit coat.

"No. Guys, as a whole, are a pretty lame lot. None of them seem to really like me, anyway. Just because I don't wear my emotions on my sleave, and I like to dress comfortably instead of letting everything I have hang out, and I'm unsocial and I like to read more than I like to party, and I only have one real friend..." Penelope trailed off as she realized she was babbling. She sighed. Having hypothermia was kind of like being drunk, she realized. She didn't have control over her own body. She looked down and realized that Derik was sitting extremely close to her and that he was holding her hands firmly against him. She tried to pull away, but he was holding her too firmly. She began to feel the old fear come back, along with the feeling in her fingers. His skin felt boiling hot to the touch, and tingles prickled along her fingertips.

"Please, Penelope, don't struggle so. I'm trying to help you."

"I'm warm enough, now let go," she snapped. She still couldn't pull away, and fright seemed as if it was going to strangle her. "Please?" she added helplessly. He stopped and stared at her and Penelope blushed as she realized how small and scared she'd sounded. "I mean, let go," she said loudly.

"Okay, I take it you're feeling better," Derik said, jumping off the bed.

Penelope sighed in relief, her space bubble secure once more. "Thank you," she said fervently.

A hurt look crossed Derik's face, but was gone in a moment, replaced by one of sarcastic amusement. "Goodnight, my grateful new wife. I'll see you in the morning. Keep warm."

As the door shut behind him, Penelope struggled to dig herself deeper into the bed. Pain was shooting up and down her feet and hands, but it was preferable to the total numbness she'd had before.

"I have to think, I have to think," she mumbled to herself, tucking her hands underneath her arms and rocking back and forth under the covers. "How to get out of this?"

When it had been merely a matter of being devoured by a dragon, she had been courageous enough. When she had thought the man was going to rape and kill her, she'd been a little scared, but not much. Now that it looked as if she was going to suffer the consequences for her whole life, she was really scared. A new life in a new world was bad enough - though her mind was still working with that concept - but a new husband, too? Sex had always been a mysterious sort of thing for Penelope, since she'd never had it and never watched the movies that had people doing it. All she knew was that it sort of hurt and women got pregnant from it. Which would be the new point of her existence; to have children. And having children hurt.

She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. However, if she tried to escape, Derik might let the dragon burn Seattle. She couldn't let her parents and Emma be killed. She was a helpless hostage, and held none of the bargaining chips in her own hands. Derik had everything, she had nothing.

Penelope did as she always did when she couldn't handle her life. Her thoughts turned inward, the room disappeared from view and her imagination took over. She sank into the sand on a warm Florida beach with the hero of her story, watching the story of her novel unfold before her eyes. Smiling blissfully, she fell asleep to images of a perfect true love between hero and heroine.

***

Derik flipped on his screen and watched as Penelope's expression went from troubled and frightened to blissfully happy in a matter of seconds. What was she thinking about? She was certainly an enigma.

He had to consider what to do next. His dragon was safely back in its cage, but hadn't fed for a long time. It needed food so it could survive the inter-dimension travel. However, now that he'd finished the job, he wanted to get home as fast as he could. He felt rather bad about dragging Penelope away from her home - all of the women, of course - but particularly Penelope. Maybe it was the courageous way she'd taken it that had made him feel it more particularly, but he felt bad for her.

Shrugging, he reached to turn the screen off but was captured by the image there. She was sleeping so peacefully, hugging herself tightly with a small smile playing across her lips. He wondered what she was dreaming about, and if she had been lying about liking any particular guy. Maybe she had a crush on some writer, but he didn't even know she existed so she didn't want to admit it.

Derik shook his head in disgust. What was happening to him? He wasn't a man of rampant imagination, so why was it taking off on him like this? He flipped off the screen and sat back on his own bed, reluctant to drop off. What if Penelope woke in the night and needed something? She didn't know where anything was. Or worse yet, what if she woke up and tried to sneak away? Derik knew that the cave was miles away from everywhere, and she'd probably die of cold before she'd gotten very far. She was already so cold. He remembered how his heart had jumped at the sight of her tiny, bloodless feet, looking so useless and frozen.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Derik said aloud. He thumped his fist against his pillow and turned on his side. He closed his eyes firmly. "Fall asleep. Now," he ordered himself.