Mattie whooped as he disappeared down the dark tunnel. Running water surged around Alfred's ankles as he gripped the bar. A tanned lifeguard was lounging in a high chair. Alfred shifted in the cool water, impatiently waiting for the lifeguard to give him the ok. A splash sounded. The lifeguard turned to Alfred and gave him the thumbs up.

Alfred cheered as he threw himself down the slide. Lights flashed like strobe lights through the small windows. He swirled around the belly of the slide. Suddenly he burst into the open air part of the slide. Alfred squinted. When he looked right he could see the ocean breaking on the beach. Water whooshed around him. Down, down, down, he went plunging into the pool.

Alfred broke the surface, grinning. He ran towards the stairs. He wanted to go again!

That's when he saw Mattie.

He was standing with two strangers, which was really unusual for his shy brother. One man had purple swim trunks on and the other had khakis and a linen shirt on. The one with the purple bathing suit was carrying a wet towel. Alfred didn't recognize them.

Matthew waved and gave Alfred a weak smile. Alfred slowed. The younger boy looked over to where their parents were sitting.

"Alfred," Matthew shouted, waving faster, "come on!"

Alfred gave a half-hearted wave and started to move closer. He looked over his shoulder again. Dad was sitting on his stomach with his nose tucked into a book. Papa was fast asleep. One arm was flapping out beside the chair.

Alfred hesitated.

"Come on kid, move!" The lifeguard shouted down at him. Alfred scrambled over to Matthew. The burly guy wrapped his meaty fisted around Matthew's shoulder. He looked like a gorilla that had been forced into clothes two sizes too small. He did not look like a pleasant guy.

"What's going on?" Alfred asked. He tried to look at the gorilla's face to see where they knew him from, but a wide brimmed hat kept the majority of his face covered.

"Hey A-Al," Matthew stuttered. He was chewing on the corner of his thumb.

"Follow me," The man with the purple shorts growled. "Don't do anything stupid or your brother gets killed."

Alfred's blood froze and his palms started to sweat. A gun, because there was no way it could be anything else, flashed from inside the man's towel. If he'd seen this on TV Alfred would have laughed because really, who hid a gun in a towel? And who brought a gun to a beach? And wasn't the hotel supposed to be for guests only? So how did bad men like this get in?

It was all too much. Alfred's brain short circuited and he started doing the one thing that came natural to him in any situation, talking.

"Sure man, sure. I'd like to get out of my suit anyway," Alfred rambled, "What do you think Mattie?"

Matthew's throat must have been dry, too dry to reply, so he nodded.

"Walk," the man grunted. Alfred tried not to stare at him, but he couldn't help it. He didn't look like a man who'd carry a gun. He looked normal. Brown hair, brown eyes, light skin… Alfred could imagine him coaching a kid soccer league in a suburban town in the US.

Alfred searched for Mattie's hand. The water slide was still shooting out kids. Alfred's feet were burning on the cement. Normally he'd hop scotch from shadow to shadow. This time he just gritted his teeth.

"What happened Mattie?" Alfred whispered.

"Quiet," snapped the other gunman. Alfred looked up and caught a glimpse of his face; an ugly scar was peeking out from under his hat. It was like someone had tried to scalp him. Alfred bit his lip. He wasn't scared.

A glass door was open half way down the pool. The curtains were blowing out of the doorway like they were trying to escape.

The boys were pushed inside. Alfred looked around. It looked pretty much like their family's room. Two beds, a desk, television, a closet and bathroom. The sliding doors snapped shut. The curtains drawn closed across them.

The man holding the towel dropped it to the ground. A sleek, black handgun was pointed at Alfred's chest. Shadows stole across the room making the gun-toting men look much more at home. Goosebumps rose on Alfred's arms.

"Strip," the first gunman commanded.

Alfred's head jerked up, "what?"

The scarred man pulled a gun out from a suitcase. He caressed it once before pointing it at them.

"Take your clothes off now," the second man cocked his gun, grinning.

Mattie pulled his hand from Alfred's. He tugged down his swim trunks. Dazed Alfred noticed he could see a tan line from where his bathing suit covered Matthew's skin from the sun. He'd gotten burnt even after their Dad had tried so hard.

The scary gunman pointed to the bathroom with his gun.

"Shower and change. Quickly," he ordered. Mattie stumbled over to the door. Alfred pulled his bathing suit off too. He'd rather shower with his brother than be stuck out here with these loony-toons.

"Not you chatty," the scary gunman commanded, "you stay."

The thinner gunman stalked behind Mattie with his gun was pointed at his brother's back. Both figures disappeared into the bathroom. Alfred felt like he was going to throw up. He wanted his Papa.

"Sit."

He pulled out the desk chair. Naked, Alfred walked toward it on wobbly legs. Alfred covered up his bits. The man pulled out a pair of safety scissors. Alfred didn't think his sausage fingers would fit.

"This will hurt a bit," the man grunted, "don't yell."

Alfred gulped and gave a shallow nod. The man hadn't even started cutting yet but Alfred's eyes were watering.

A hand gripped his hair and then began sawing. Alfred whimpered and then his mouth started running again, "You know I didn't even want to come to Mexico. I would have been happy staying in the house for all I cared. Mexico doesn't have anything that the US doesn't. I really like waterslides, but you can find those at any good water park."

"Shut up," the hand cutting his hair went faster. Alfred winced. The big guy was yanking the hair from his head.

"What's your name anyway?" Alfred asked, "I've been calling you scary gunman in my head. That's not really a good name."

There was no response. Alfred closed his eyes when he saw locks of hair fall to the floor, "My name is Alfred. It's not so great either, but what can you do, right?"

The man roughly chopped more hair off and Alfred hissed. Matthew stepped out of the bathroom in green cargo shorts and a black shirt.

"Shower faster than he did," the man who'd cut Alfred's hair grunted, shoving Alfred from the chair.

"You next," he pointed at Mattie.

Alfred headed over to the bathroom. As Alfred passed Matthew, his brother reached out a hand and brushed it against Alfred's face. His brother didn't say anything. Alfred stopped walking. He wanted to crawl into his fathers' arms and have this nightmare go away.

"Move it," the normal looking gunman snarled, pressing his gun against Alfred's back. The sick feeling rolled through him again. His heart was beating as fast as a humming bird's wings.

Alfred hoped he wouldn't come in with him, but his hopes fell when the other man crowded into the tight space and sat on the closed toilet seat. He wasn't as large as the scary gorilla man outside but he still seemed to take up all of the space.

"Go," he commanded.

Alfred scrambled into the shower. Once the water was on he let out another whimper. Tears dripped down his face mixing with the water. A keening sound reverberated around the room. Stunned, Alfred clapped a hand over his mouth a second before, the gunman banged on the wall.

"Shut up!"

Inside Alfred's heart something shattered and strengthened at the same time. If he were to imagine it in his mind it would looked like glass, but feel like steel. Shaking, he wiped his eyes and quickly washed his hair and body.

He turned the water off. A towel was thrust around the curtain. Taking deep breaths, Alfred dried himself off and stepped out. A set of clothes sat on the counter. Alfred pulled them on quickly with his back to the man.

"Let's go," the man gripped his arm and pulled him out of the bathroom.

As he was stumbling out of the bathroom Alfred caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He'd never had his hair so short before. He ran his fingers through the fuzz.

Matthew was sitting at the end of the bed. He looked scared, but not hurt. The scary gunman was holding a teal colored backpack with a Miami Dolphins key chain dangling from it. His gun was laying on the desk.

"Why'd ya have that backpack?" Alfred asked, "Are you a Dolphins fan?"

"Sit on the other bed."

The man ignored Alfred's question and instead picked up the gun again. All of Alfred's muscles clenched up. He wanted to be as far from that gun as possible. Alfred moved towards the other bed. He sat on the side closest to his brother. Matthew chewed his thumb.

"We are leaving. You will not scream or cry or shout for help. You will walk silently with smiles on your face down to the lobby and into the car."

The thin gunman cocked the gun and pointed it at Mattie's head, "Do you understand me?"

His older brother whimpered and nodded furiously. His hands were raised in the air and Alfred copied him, nodding his agreement.

"Good, let's go," the man grunted.

Alfred sucked in a deep breath. He had to focus on his and his brother's survival.


Francis was nudged awake by the sound of Arthur's laughter. He blinked sleepily and rubbed at his eyes. His mouth was dry. He flagged down a waiter and ordered a piña colada for himself and Arthur and two sodas for the boys.

Arthur slipped a bookmark into his novel. He came over to sit at the side of Francis's chair.

"Hey love," Arthur said. He placed a kiss on his cheek. Francis moaned and turned, looking up at Arthur, begging for more. Arthur swatted at him, "Later."

Francis grinned, "I'm counting on it." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to go grab the boys," Arthur said, "They need to reapply their sun screen."

Francis grabbed Arthur's ass when he stood, "so soft," Francis moaned.

Arthur knocked him over the head as he left. Francis smirked, leaned back and closed his eyes. He could hear the distant sound of the ocean crashing against the shore. He could see it in his mind's eye. Blue as the sky. Arthur laying on golden sand. Him kissing Arthur in that sand...

"Francis!" Arthur shouted.

He sat up, "Oui?" he called. Arthur was knee deep in one of the pools, looking around.

"Alfred?" Arthur called, "Matthew?"

Francis quickly made his way over. Kids went running past him, laughing, splashing knee deep into the pool.

"Francis, I can't find the boys. Check the slides," Arthur commanded. The Brit wasn't yelling, but after being together for over twenty years he could tell Arthur was, as Alfred would say, freaking out.

Francis strode over to the slides. At the base was the lifeguard who measured the kids. He looked like he was born to be a lifeguard. He was tan, well built and had sun kissed hair. His sunglasses were pushed up on top of his head. He had warm brown eyes. If Francis wasn't in such a state he'd have to hit on him.

"I need to find my sons," the Frenchman said, "they might be on one of the slides."

The lifeguard nodded, "Sure," he said, "we can send them down. What are their names?"

"Alfred and Matthew Bonnefoy-Kirkland," Francis said.

The lifeguard nodded and repeated the names into his walkie-talkie, informing the lifeguards that the two boys needed to return to the entrance. The children standing in line behind him started shoving each other. The lifeguard let them go up.

Francis wanted to bounce on the balls of his feet. He was sure they were up there, but still. Slowly the replies came back in from the first slide, then the second, then the third. On it went until, with his heart in his throat, the twelfth slide reported no children on line with either name.

His heart pounded. He could hear the lifeguard speaking but couldn't make sense of English at the moment. They must have just wandered off. Maybe Alfred got hungry and they went to get a snack at the pool bar. He looked over to it, praying to see two little blond heads devouring food.

No one was there.

A sign read the bar was closed from four pm until dinner. Francis knew that. Alfred always came to get him around now to get him something to eat. Maybe Alfred didn't want to bother him and went by himself... Francis growled. They'd be lucky to leave his sight when he found them.

"Maybe they went back to the room?" The lifeguard asked. He had stopped letting children up the slides. High pitched voices were yelling.

Francis shook his head. "Non, not without telling us,"he said.

"What about the game room?" The lifeguard asked. Pushing had broken out on the line.

Francis shrugged, "I don't think so, but it couldn't hurt to look."

As the lifeguard nodded and turned to face the long line of kids.

"Oy!" He shouted. "The waterslides are closed. Go make a sandcastle on the beach!"

A chorus of awws erupted around them. Francis looked for Arthur. The Brit was stalking over. His hands were clenched in fists. Wild green eyes were flicking from child to child, looking for their sons.

"Did you find them?" He asked.

Francis shook his head. The edges of Arthur's bathing suit were darker. He must have gone further into the pools to search for them. Francis's thoughts swirled around him. Where could they be? The beach, game room, lobby, convenience store, restaurants... Francis shook his head the lifeguard was speaking.

"I'm going to inform resort management that they are missing. They will check your room and have security sweep the premise."

"Thank you Emilio," Arthur replied. Arthur's hair was rumpled... probably from running his hands through it. Francis blinked. He'd never bothered getting the other man's name. How rude of him.

"If you'll follow me." Emilio gestured to them, "I'll show you where you can wait for your boys."

Emilio led them inside to the lobby and to a room behind the check-in counter. The room was white and cold from the air conditioning. Goosebumps blossomed on his skin from the cool air. A long, black table was stretched across the back wall with windows that over looked the circular pools. Francis kept searching for Matthew and Alfred through the glass.

Emilio left them with a few reassuring words. Once he was gone Francis immediately scooted his chair closer to Arthur.

"It's going to be ok," he soothed, "they probably just went to the game room."

Arthur didn't reply. His face was beat red. His eyes were flickering across the edges of the pool and back to their tiki hut. Francis's piña colada was melting. Arthur had hunched himself over. He wrapped his arms around his stomach. He looked so small sitting like that. A mug filled with pens was in the middle of the table.

"Or maybe Alfred convinced Matthew to get a snack," Francis continued. It'd be fine (although they were in for a serious grounding when they got back).

A stack of forgotten napkins were perched at the end of the table. Their corners were fluttering from the air conditioner. Francis grabbed one and a black pen. His hands needed to be doing something.

Staring outside Francis sketched the outline Matthew's face on a napkin. He was laughing. The corners of his eyes were crinkled and his hair was bouncing around his face. Faint freckles dotted the bridge of his nose.

"Or maybe they found some friends and are hanging out with them," Francis thought aloud.

"Stop it!" Arthur burst out suddenly. Francis's hand stopped. A half drawn Alfred was left unfinished next to a laughing Matthew.

"Please! I can't handle the thought."

Francis reared back, "What?"

"I need to prepare myself for the worst. And I can't do that hoping," Arthur grit his teeth, "that everything is going to be ok."

Francis shook his head, "Where would they have gone?"

Arthur just shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. Francis slapped down the pen. It went rolling towards the middle of the table.

"I mean it Arthur! They don't drive. They don't have money for a cab. How could they be anywhere but here, in the resort?"

Arthur hid his face in his hands. His palms pressed into his eyes. The tip of Arthur's nose was poking out between his fingers. It was bright red.

"I just want my babies back," Arthur murmured. Francis pulled the other man close and tucked Arthur under his chin. Arthur's was stiff in his hug.

"Me too," Francis whispered into his hair, "me too."

The air conditioner breathed. Happy kids outside screamed. Arthur shifted. Slowly his arms wound around Francis's body. His bony fingers dug into Francis's back. Francis closed his eyes and breathed. Arthur smelt of sunscreen, warmth and sweet apples.

It would be ok.