They had taken Josh again. Sam paced, furious, darting glances through the slats of the doors, wiping the sweat from his forehead until he decided the motion was useless. Lines of sunlight dripped in, striping the ground, looking more and more like bars that slowly crept to the side as the sun passed overhead. When Josh had been taken they were pointing directly at the back of the shack, now they had lengthened and turned, fattening as they ate through the dark, running slowly to the east side wall. At least he assumed that direction was east. He really had no idea. All he knew for certain was, Josh had been gone for hours. There were no shouts, no cries of pain, nothing. The guards outside smoked their hand-rolled cigarettes and tossed small rocks and roots at a can. They played cards and walked around; every once in a while one would cock their head toward an unknown sound and the grip on their weapon would tighten. The guns never left their sides; like a security blanket, they slept curled around them in the hot air. Sam paced during these long hours, looked through the slats, paced, peeked, and finally fell to his knees when his tired legs could take no more and his stressed body cried out for a respite. He couldn't wear himself down. If the chance came to escape, he needed to be able to take it.

The sun rays were clear to the other side of the shack when the door opened and Josh was thrown in. Sam sat frozen until he door was locked, then crawled over to his friend and slowly turned him over. "Josh! Josh? Hey," he patted the man's face, "wake up." There was a faint grunt, a moan, and slits appeared. Sam gave a slight nod and let out the breath he'd been holding. He placed a hand on Josh's chest and put a soothing touch to his brow. "You hear me?" The response was a blink, a heavy sigh, and a slight nod as eyes closed once again. "What'd they do to you?"

"Oh – you know." There was a lengthy hesitation as Josh focused on the room. "He asked . . ."

"And?"

"Told him to go to hell." Josh's gaze had been fixed on the ceiling, now he turned his head towards Sam. "Sam, listen. You. . .you have to get out of here. I'll create a distraction. . ."

"Are you insane?"

". . .no, listen, you run through the jungle behind us. I think that's the right way, that's where the truck keeps coming from. . ."

"They hit you in the head, didn't they?" Josh's speech was slow, like he'd been drugged.

". . .find Toby, get back to the States."

"Josh. . ."

Josh grabbed his arm, suddenly frantic. "They're gonna kill you, Sam. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, well, they were gonna kill me last time. They didn't."

"They didn't want to shoot you. They wanted to scare me." Josh rolled onto his side, bracing with one elbow, and pinned Sam with a look. "They'll do it this time, I swear. I didn't. . .they're coming for you. They said so."

"Josh. . ."

"You have to go."

"No. No!" Sam stood in disgust. "You know, I can't believe you're even asking me to do this!"

"Dammit, they are going to kill you!" Josh underscored every word.

"And you really think I'm going to leave, just to save my own hide."

"Yes!"

Sam merely put his hands on his hips. "Boy, are you stupid."

"Dammit, Sam. . ."

"No. We leave together. Now, we need to find a way to get out of this shack. It's pretty sturdy, really, there's no way to knock out these slats without someone noticing." Sam's voice was low. "So we have to let them get us out."

"You're nuts."

"No more than you are, telling me to go on without you!" Sam's voice rose like thunder, and Josh winced.

"Okay, okay, keep it down. Look, we'll have to do this quick, we don't have a lot of time."

Sam nodded, setting his mouth in a grim line. He slowly sat down beside Josh, one leg bent, arm propped on his knee. His fingers rubbed worriedly, his gaze in the distance. When it turned back to Josh, there was a hint of fear amidst the soberness. "You really think they mean it this time?"

"Yes," Josh said quietly.

"When?"

"I don't know."

Sam nodded and sighed and turned away. His fist clenched, and he punched the air lightly, but with determination and turned back to Josh. "We need to get outta here. But you need to rest first."

"No time."

"Not no time! No choice. Look at you, Josh, you can't even stand. We couldn't get anywhere right now."

"Then you go!"

"NO! Enough of that. If I go, they'll hunt me down and kill you here."

Josh knew the truth in those words. He lay back and blinked at the ceiling. "Just give me a few minutes." His eyes closed.

Sam watched him, then rose and quietly walked over to the jug of water. He poured a little into his cupped hand and walked back to Josh, dabbing the bottom of his shirt in the warm liquid and doing his best to clean his friend's cuts.

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"I think you may be on to something here, Mr. Ziegler." The inspector smiled and ushered Toby out of his office. "We'll investigate it and let you know if anything. . ."

"That's-that's it?"

"We are not magicians, Mr. Ziegler. We cannot pull rabbits from hats." The door closed in his face, the frosted glass suddenly obscuring the view of the room, and effectively blocking Toby out.

Son of a bitch. He sighed and pulled out his phone. The voice on the other end was sharp and angry, obviously in the middle of something. "Leo? Toby. No, nothing, listen, this isn't going to work. We can't rely on these people. . .because they're blowing it off, that's why! I'm telling you, they don't give a rat's ass. . .no, I'm not waiting around. Screw the meeting! Leo. . .okay, okay, I'm listening." There was a lengthy pause as Toby paced. The voice on the other end rose in volume. "Leo, you can't be serious. Well, screw that too! I'm. . .okay, okay. I'll wait. Yeah, I guess I'm going back to the hotel, maybe this is all a nightmare and I'll go back and find them there and string them up on the ceiling fan. Yeah. I know, I know. Okay." The line went dead, and Toby flipped the phone closed. He glance back at the door, resisting the urge to kick it in, and forced himself outside.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The sounds of shouts woke both of them, and they were instantly alert. "Shit. SHIT!" Josh jumped up and peered through the slats. "Dammit, we shouldn't of slept. . .dammit!" He pushed around Sam and tugged at a board in the wall. "Come on, help me!"

"Josh, there's no time. . ."

"They're coming!"

"I know they're coming!"

Josh straightened and faced him. "No, you don't understand. . ." He grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him to the back wall.

"Stop saying that, I understand fine!" The shouts and sounds grew closer. Sam held onto Josh's arm. "Promise me you'll get out of here. Don't let them. . .don't give in to them. Not to save me, or yourself."

The door slammed open. Josh swerved and planted himself in front of Sam, knowing what was coming, and scared shitless. Five men filtered in, blocking the door and facing them. Josh held one hand out, knowing the effort was meaningless. "No. No, I'm not gonna let you do this." He felt Sam's grip on his arm, felt the fingers pinching his muscle.

There was a thin smile aimed in their direction, and in that moment Josh's stomach fell.

Two men lunged and pulled Josh away as three others grabbed Sam. "No!" Josh reared back, fighting with everything he had. "What the fuck are you doing?? Damn you to hell, stop it! STOP IT!" He tugged and kicked and roared at the top of his lungs furiously. Sam's curses had joined his own as he was forced on his back, one man straddling his chest and kneeling on his arms. Another sat on his legs. Sam squirmed as best he could, uselessly, cursing the entire time as Josh raged.

He pulled forward, then stiffened as a knife was placed at this throat, the tip barely grazing the tender hollow at the base. "You sons of bitches," he gritted in a low voice, his heart pounding painfully, "What are you doing to him?"

"Giving him a drink." Leather-face grinned, his dark eyes beaming from underneath his bandana as he popped the cork from a tiny glass bottle.

"That's. . .not water, is it?" he asked weakly. Leather-face smiled and walked towards Sam.

Sam's eyes widened, and he started struggling anew. The brave face he had been wearing melted away. When Sam said they wanted to kill him, he thought he was going to be shot, killed quick, he should've known. . ."Josh. . ."

"Oh god, no, please don't do this, don't do this!" Josh strained forward once more and felt a prick.

"Josh!"

Josh fought to get to his friend, ignoring the blade, not feeling the pain as it swiped the side of his throat as a warning. "Bastards! Fuckin' bastards!" The leader just laughed and knelt before Sam, then pinched his cheeks as Sam pitched violently from side to side, trying to force them off. The man who straddled him held his head, and his mouth was forced open. At that moment, Josh felt as though his chest had ripped open in response. "NO! Dammit stop it, stop this! I'll do what you want, Fuck you!" Josh had never felt such desperation, such helplessness, not even when he was sitting on the sidewalk in Rosslyn with a bullet in him.

Hot tears burned his eyes, and a horrible gurgling sound replaced the oaths as he watched Sam fight the intrusion into this throat, fight to spit out the vile liquid that was destined to kill him. It sprayed into the faces of his captors and Josh cheered inwardly, only to panic as more was poured down Sam's throat and his mouth clamped shut. The leader pinched his nose, and he was forced to swallow and open his mouth to breathe. He sputtered and coughed, and was released.

Josh was released as well, and he stood horrified. His anger had built to a furious rage that tore him apart, yet he kept his wits about him. Until the men started to laugh as Sam curled into a ball.

Josh saw red.

He came at them with a war cry, fists swinging, and managed to take two of them down before he was punched in the jaw and sent reeling. He was slammed against the far wall, and again, and again, and by the time he'd recovered, the door was locked. He palmed his cheekbone and curled an arm around his ribs, then faced Sam, who lay with his back to him. As quickly as he was able he walked over to his friend and turned him over. The eyes that met him were coated with fear. "Sam. . ."

"Bastards! Oh. . . god, I. . .Josh. . ."

"It's okay, it'll be okay, you just gotta throw it up, come on. . ." Josh pulled him to an upright position, angling him over.

"I thought they didn't want to kill me." Sam's voice shook, and he bent in half as the cramps started. "Oh god. . ."

"Hang on," Josh said, rather ironically as he was the one trying to keep a hold on the pained man. Stick your fingers down your throat. . ." He was about to do it himself.

"No need, Oh JESUS!" Sam pulled away from Josh and vomited in the corner, over and over, until he swore his intestines were coming out of his mouth. He struggled for a breath, then retched violently. Josh held his shoulders and laid his forehead against the man's back as he fought to breathe. Gasp followed gasp, and he retched until the dry heaves burned his chest. An eternity passed before he was able to lay back with Josh's help. "Josh. . ."

"Still here."

"What'd they give me?"

"I don't know," Josh whispered. "I wish to god I did."

"Something's wrong, I can't breathe."

"Just – take it slow, okay? It'll pass." Josh blinked back tears of frustration.

"What if it doesn't pass?"

"I'm hoping you threw most of it up." Josh didn't know what to say. This was beyond anything he'd experienced, beyond any scenario he'd prepared for in his mind when he knew he'd be working in the White House.

Sam followed his thoughts. "They didn't. . . train us for this, you know. Not like this."

"We're not military."

"Boot camp for senior staff." Sam managed a weak chuckle before coughing again.

Josh held his shoulders. "Shhh, hush. No, wait, keep talking."

"You trying to kill me faster?"

"God, when I said keep talking, I didn't mean like that. Just keep talking. . .I don't . . .god, Sam, I'm sorry. . ."

"Don't . . .get all. . . mushy on me. . ."

"Dammit. . ." Josh threw his arms around Sam as he started coughing once again, each one wracking his body in a painful spasm. He pulled Sam close to his side, bracing him.

"God. . .that hurts. . ."

"I know." Josh sighed, his arm around his friend.

Sam's breath quickened. Something was definitely wrong, terribly wrong. His vision swam before his eyes, and his fingers were numb. There was a tingling along his arms and face, like his whole body was going to sleep. "I'm cold."

"Lean into me."

"Something's wrong, I-I don't. . .I can't. . ."

Josh pulled him closer, feeling the clammy skin, seeing the pale tone of his usually overly healthy face, bracing against the tremors in his limbs and dabbing at the sheen of sweat that plastered his shirt to him. "Hang on. I'm here. Just, please god, just. . . hang on." Josh held him like one would hold a child.