When consciousness finds me again, I open my eyes to flames. Bright orange and reds and blues. It frightens me and for a moment, I imagine that we're still on the plane...and it's on fire. But when I try to sit up and escape, strong hands hold me down. I struggle against the hold with all I have until one voice...one voice in the midst of my nightmare, snaps me out of it and brings me back to the present.

"Justin! It's okay. You're alright," Brian murmurs, his warm breath tickling my cheek.

I blink. I sigh. I groan the second I try to move and Brian's hands are right there once again, holding me down. "What...what's going on?"

"The plane crashed." I stare up at him as my head seems to be in his lap. He sees the question in my eyes and looks up. I follow his gaze to the other side of the fire, where I can clearly see Rory and Cynthia huddled together, asleep. Some of the tension leaves me with the knowledge that we all survived.

"Where are we?"

"In a cave."

That's not exactly the answer I'm looking for, but it's definitely nothing I had expected to hear. I look around, astounded that I hadn't noticed our surroundings earlier. The small enclosure is more like a medium sized rock tent, but I guess it suits our purposes. Better than sleeping out in the middle of nowhere.

But I still want answers. "Where? Like...location? Country? State? Coordinates?"

"I don't...know," Brian admits quietly. As if he's failed or something. Like it's somehow his fault that this happened. But Brian being Brian...he covers like a pro and gives me one of his patented smirks. "But if you want an exact Latitude and Longitude, maybe el capitan over there could shed some light." Brian throws a small pebble towards the body that lay towards the entrance of the cave. "If he ever wakes up, that is."

"He okay?"

"Broken ankle...I think. Probably a few cracked ribs. A head wound or two. If he pulls out of it, he's gonna be one sore sonofabitch."

"I'm guessing we don't have anything to drink, right." All I can think of is that my mouth feels like the freakin Sahara. Or...maybe the Kalahari. Wow...can't believe I'm actually arguing about this. Even in my head. Well, either way, it's dry...like some RANDOM desert!

I close my eyes as Brian moves a bit beneath me and I think he's reaching for something. "Actually. We have a few supplies from the bar on the plane."

"The bar? So...what? We have gin and tonics and a jar of cocktail olives?"

"Haha. Thrilled to see you still have your sense of humor," Brian muttered, though a small smile belied his seemingly annoyed reply. "We're gonna ration everything carefully. So...only drink what you need for now."

I nod and he uncaps a bottle of Evian, holding it to my lips, tipping it up slightly so that I can sip. After a few meager drinks, I nod and push the bottle away with my right hand, which I've realized is still okay to move. Slowly, a hazy memory began to form. "You...fixed my arm?"

"Yeah. Does it feel okay?"

"Mostly...it's numb. But I'm sure I'll feel it soon enough." I can already feel the pressure from whatever is tied around it. And a small pinching feeling close to my elbow. But I don't tell him that.

"Sorry. We only have Tylenol in the first aid kit, so there's nothing to give you to lessen the pain."

Wow. I can't believe he actually remembered not to give me Tylenol. The last thing I need is to have an allergic reaction right now.

"How did you wrap it?" I ask, lifting my head just enough to see my arm, wresting at my side. Not that I can see much in the dark cave. The fire isn't being stoked and it seems as though there are only a few twigs left to keep it alive, so the light is fading a bit.

"I, uh...used part of the plane actually. One of the smaller pieces that had splintered off of the nose. Cynthia padded the edges with, uh...feminine hygiene products." I must be making quite a face, because Brian actually laughs out loud. "We used a belt to fasten the brace on and then Rory tied a shirt around it."

"Wow. You guys were busy, huh?"

"Yeah, well...none of us really had anywhere else to be just then. No pressing engagements or anything."

"Thank you, Brian."

I look up at him but I can only see the underside of his chin and...well - up his nose, since he's staring straight ahead. Still, I feel like I need to SEE him right now. I need something tangible to hold onto. To focus on. To remind me that I AM alive.

WE are alive.

***

Pulling my small wool coat tighter around myself, I shiver and try to snuggle closer to Rory's back. She's having none of it though, as she thrashes about, her hand barely missing hitting my nose. It would seem that the woman has no problem sleeping ANYWHERE.

And anywhere is a nice way of putting it. I should say shitty little rathole, but that would be an insult to rats. I did actually vote to stay with the plane, but Brian somehow worked it so that his vote would count as Justin's and the pilot's votes as well. Such a fucking piece of work, that man!

Staying with the plane, he had explained as if we were children, would mean no fire. And the windows were broken as was the door - thanks to the technical geniuses that forced it open - so if it were to rain, the plane would only provide so much shelter.

Seems to me that the possibility of getting a little wet and having no fire would be small potatoes when one of them got eaten by some freaky bear. Or...a lion. Or something else with pointy teeth and big claws. But there was no telling Brian Kinney that.

I shiver again and all but shove my feet into the fire. Yeah...so I'm still cold WITH a fire. No fire and ice might have formed in my veins. Fine. So he WAS right. Whatever.

Speaking of the great Kinney, I wonder if I should relieve him from watch? He was supposed to wake me if he wanted to sleep. But then...if he doesn't mind, I'm surely not going to volunteer to do it. So I crack my eyes open, just to see how he's making it.

I feel almost as if I'm spying on the boys as I open my eyes to find them staring at one another. Justin's head is in Brian's lap and they look so comfortable. Like it's the most natural thing in the world for them to be lounging together in this place.

I have to admit, It's good that they have each other. It will make things easier on them. Or...maybe it will make things harder on the rest of us. Hard to tell at this point.

Still...I have never, in my working life, seen my boss look like he did when we were working on Justin's arm. And I use ‘we' loosely. More like Brian. Occasionally Rory and I would contribute personal items to the cause. But the actual repair work was left up to Brian. And he had worked on Justin diligently and intently with a softness and an obvious fear that he would fuck it up. But he got the job done with his usual standard of perfection as always and I was proud of the jerk.

And now...I watch them whispering random things to one another in the dark damp cave, and I have to smile. I have laughed at the man for getting snippy every time Justin was in a five mile radius for the past two months. He had been like a twelve-year-old boy, screaming ‘cooties' at the girl that he secretly liked. He's not screaming now though, is he?

I watch as Brian laughs at something Justin has said.

I was so sure that this trip would be a disaster because of their bickering. What a difference a day makes.

***

When morning comes, my internal alarm clock wakes me. As usual I hit the snooze and go back and forth between dozing and arguing with myself, trying to decide if I want to get up in time to go for a run or sleep a little longer.

This morning my muscles are protesting every time I move, so a run is definitely out of question. Even going to work sounds like a painful chore. Not worth getting out of my nice...comfy...

I run my hand leisurely upwards, coming to rest just under my cheek. And I realize, my bed is not nice! Nor is it comfy! My hand is stinging now and I frown, working to pull myself from the last layer of sleep.

"Wha..?" I sit up a bit and turn my head to the side, staring down at the person curled up beside me. "Cynthia?"

"Hmm?" She opens one eye and looks up at me with a look that says ‘this had better be good'.

That's when I finally think to open my eyes. REALLY open my eyes and look around. First morning's light is filtering through the trees outside and the interior of the cave is lit just enough to create shadows along the ground.

"NO! Oh SHIT!" I swear. And in a shot, Cynthia is wide-eyed and pushing herself into a sitting position.

"Oh...Rory. Sweetie, it's okay."

See...I'm not one to use words like that lightly. I think this is the first time Cynthia has ever heard a bad word come out of my mouth. But in this case, it seems to fit.

How could I have forgotten? Talk about selective memory! I mean...hello! PLANE CRASH! Something you would think I could remember since it only happened yesterday.

I guess it just hit me. The fact that we're a little lost. Make that a LOT lost. But we don't know anything for sure yet. So why am I so upset? No one else has freaked out yet!

I feel a little weak crying like this, but I can't stop myself. I'm usually so positive. I want to smile and tell everyone else that we still have a good chance.

A chance of being found. A chance that there could be a town a mile away. A chance to survive.

But how can I say it and sell it when I have so little faith that it's the truth?

"Shhh..." Cynthia shushes me gently, her arms around me, rocking back and forth trying to comfort me. Funny...I'm usually the one doing this for people. Feels nice to be on the receiving end for once.

"Rory?" I hear Justin call from across the small den.

I look up to see my boss, struggling to sit up, fighting with his own pain to get to me. I smile at him and he wraps his good arm around me from behind. Now all we need is Brian and the comatose pilot and we'll have a nice little group hug going. I giggle at the thought and my world seems a little brighter once again.

"Guys. I, uh...don't mean to break up "Love-Fest 2008", but I need someone to go scouting with me."

The three of us turn, blankly staring at Brian. Scouting trip?

Brian sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. "We have to figure out where we are. Maybe we can find a town or something. Maybe...I dunno...at least find a better place to sleep until help comes."

This gets a smile out of us. Better place to sleep. SLEEP being the operative word. I slept pretty soundly considering, but the others? They look like they managed about an hour between them.

"I'll go," Justin pipes up. I'll bet he was the kid in every class that actually volunteered to clean erasers.

"Like Hell you will! You need to rest and I don't want you hurting your arm any further."

I wince at Brian's mention of Justin's arm. I can still remember feeling it. When I first woke up in the plane, it was dark but Justin's hand was still in mine. I called out to him but got no answer. I was just about to panic, when I thought to check his pulse. My free hand had traveled up his left arm and before I could get to his elbow, a sharp bend alerted me to the fact that something was definitely off. I think I actually went into a small state of shock at that point, because I could barely think. Couldn't speak. Even when I saw Brian's lighter flick on, I wanted to call out, but the words wouldn't come out, frozen in my throat.

"Brian!" Just whines. I've rarely ever heard the man whine, but this sound...it seems as though the name rolls off of his tongue in such a familiar way. He's intimately acquainted with it. He must have called the man's name out a million times before - in passion, in anger, in pain, in love, in boredom or in annoyance.

"You can ‘Brian' me all you want. You're staying." And that's the end of that discussion.

So it's up to me or Cynthia. Something tells me the pilot won't be up for a hike any time in the near future.

"I'll go," Cynthia offers, moving to stand.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I need you to feed the children." He motioned to Justin and the pilot.

I fume as he crooks his finger at me. Commanding me to come with him like some puppy. And...who is he to call Justin a child?! I want to ask him this, and I do just that as soon as we're out of hearing range from the others.

"Rory...I've known Justin far longer than you. He might have changed, but I still KNOW him. And the last thing he needs is to be babied right now."

"So...why did you call him a child?!"

"Well, what do you think you would do, if I had called you a child?"

I really hate to admit it but after a minute of mulling this over in my head, I get where he's going with this and...alright...the man's good. "I would set out to prove you wrong."

"Exactly. And, no offense Rory, but you would have mothered him. Cynthia, however, is a natural bitch. She'll set Justin straight if he decides to go the way of self-pity." He looks like he's in another place and time for a moment and then he shakes his head and snaps back to the here-and-now. "He's done the self-pity thing. I can't let him go there again."

I smile at his back, as I continue to follow him through the dense jungle. Who would have thought it? The bastard has a heart after all.

***

As Rory and I stalk through the forest, tacking strips of torn clothing to trees all along the way, I have to wonder if this is some sort of karmic revenge that's been set in motion. What would possibly be more ironic than the stud of Liberty Avenue, being stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere. Not a man in sight, except for an unconscious, possibly straight pilot, and my ex-whatever. And there again...what are the odds that I would be stranded with JUSTIN! Of all people!

This is for all those guys that I hurt. All those times I pissed people off. The times that I put my own shit before my family and friends. No instant karma for me. Noooo. It all built up and now I'm paying for 30-something years worth of bad deeds.

Not that I believe in karma, of course. I don't. But it amuses me that I can actually work myself up into such dramatic frenzies sometimes. A performance worthy even of Justin Taylor himself.

"So...what are we looking for?" Rory asks from behind me.

I glance over my shoulder and smirk. I haven't got a clue, but I can't exactly tell HER that!

We've been walking for what seems like an hour, but in actuality it's only been about twenty minutes. But both of us are sweating and breathing heavily, as if we've been jogging. It's the air. It's so hot and sticky. I'm glad we had the foresight to bring along a few bottles of water.

I tip my bottle up and sip slowly. Through the clear plastic, I can see streams of blue and white mingling together. I almost believe that I'm hallucinating. The heat could be getting to me. But I lower the bottle and my eyes nearly fall out of their sockets.

Breaking out into a run, Rory is forced to follow and together we collapse on the beach and laugh.

Pristine white sand covers the entire beach. It's soft and silky, unlike the gritty kind that always finds its way inside your clothing and into every single crevice on your body. And the water! THE WATER! It's crystal clear, turning to a bright blue as it goes a bit further off the reef.

Unless we're on some private beach, there is no way in hell this place is inhabited. People would pay billions for a place like this. No...this is untouched land.

As beautiful as the scenery is, the joy of it has already washed away.

What looks like paradise, I realize, is going to be our prison.

To Be Continued...