Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas.

Author's Note: Ignore mistakes. Fanfiction is determined to not let me use my usual combination of stars and squiggleys to section off the story, so I have resorted to the gray lines. I did this in one sitting, and was determined to put it up tonight. So enjoy.

Chapter 10: Never Say Goodbye

"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now…" Jeanette sang to herself as she brushed her wet hair, getting ready for bed. Simon was still in the shower, seeing as he always insisted that Jeanette take one first.

The said chipette instinctively glanced towards the far wall where a window should be, only to be disappointed for the fourth time that day. I wish I could at least see an airplane, let alone pretend it's a shooting star, Jeanette thought to herself. She then began to sing the verse again as she packed some clothing in a crude bag she had made out of sheets they siphoned from the closet when Monsieur Duponte wasn't looking.

It had been two months since Simon and Jeanette decided to plan an escape. And after two months of gaining Monsieur Duponte's trust and forming an escape plan, they were executing it that night. They were fairly sure that the French man didn't suspect a thing. They had become brilliant actors in making him believe that they were truly happy living with and working for him. There weren't even any guards outside their door anymore, just three outside the perimeter of the house they were being kept in and two in the kitchen.

Jeanette would usually distract Monsieur Duponte by tripping in front of him while Simon grabbed something they would need for their escape, such as the sheets that they were using to bundle extra clothing and pillowcases for food. Whenever they ate in the past two weeks, they would always hide items such as a potato or muffin in the pillowcases and store them in a drawer under their clothes.

Simon's leg was healing amazingly well, but was still not fully repaired. He only needed one crutch, but still used two so he would use it as little as possible, only resorting to the one crutch while he was alone with Jeanette in their room. He practiced some basic exercises with Jeanette to strengthen his leg, and they even talked Monsieur Duponte into getting a plastic velcro cast for Simon.

All was going well, considering their predicament. If their plan worked, then they would be able to make their way over to the nearest highway, which was about three miles due west, according to an overheard conversation between two of the guards about switching shifts with the other hired hands.

Simon bursting out of the bathroom broke Jeanette out of her reverie, a silly grin slapped to his face. He had his towel around his neck, while wearing a clean white t-shirt and blue and white checkered pajama pants with his plastic cast on his left leg.

"Is something wrong, Simon?" Jeanette asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Far from it, Jeanette. Watch this!" Simon said, totally ecstatic. He slowly moved his right leg forward in one step, then took another step with his injured leg. It was then that Jeanette realized that Simon was not even using his single crutch.

"Simon!" Jeanette gasped in amazement. "You really have made quite a miraculous recovery."

"I know," Simon's grin grew wider, if that was even possible, and took a few more steps before he lost his balance and stumbled right into Jeanette's arms. After straightening himself out, he kissed her with a ferocity only brought on by a unique combination of happiness and fear.

"Tonight, we're finally leaving this place," Simon whispered after he broke away, leaning his forehead against Jeanette's. Jeanette bit her lip, thinking hard. Taking notice, Simon cupped her chin and forced her worried emeralds to look at his own questioning grey-blues.

"That kiss…" Jeanette finally whispered, averting her gaze from Simon's, trying to find the right words before looking at him again. "That kiss felt like a goodbye," Jeanette said, tearing up before she could will her tear ducts to close.

"They have guns, and they might shoot you. Your leg will slow you down if you try to run. You could die," Jeanette blubbered; all of her worries that had been accumulating during the course of their planning gushing out all at once. Simon tightened his grip on her waist and lifted her chin again, which had dropped as she confessed her thoughts.

"Don't you think that I've been worrying about the same things, except worrying that you would be the one they might shoot? That you could die? I'm going to admit it. I'm scared too. But our plan is foolproof. I can't wait any longer, and I know you can't either; we need to see our families. And I will never say goodbye to you. That kiss was to tell you that I love you, and that I'm so glad we're finally going home. Together," Simon finished.

"Together," Jeanette echoed. Simon pulled her into a tight hug and a quick kiss before untangling himself to help her finish packing.

"Mr. Seville, I've called to tell you that we have dispatched the SWAT team to a rural area in Nevada. I know it's hard to believe after so long, but we finally closed in on the kidnapper's cell tower, and found that he was making frequent stops at an old house that was abandoned years ago. Mr. Seville, we know where your son is," Detective Morin spoke over his cell phone while strapping on his bulletproof vest. He heard the man begin to cry, presumably out of happiness.

"Situations like these are very risky, but I am with the SWAT team en route, so I will notify you once we have infiltrated the building and let you know what happens as soon as I get the chance."

Detective Morin quickly said goodbye through the father's constant thanks and readied his gun as they turned onto a dusty back road.

"They know, Beatrice! They know!" Dave whispered excitedly to Miss Miller, who had been waiting anxiously to know what the call was about.

"Know what, David?" Miss Miller asked, confusion easily taking over in her old age.

"Beatrice, the police know where Simon and Jeanette are being held!" Dave whispered a little louder to Miss Miller.

"That's wonderful news!" Miss Miller whispered back, tears forming in her eyes. "Should we tell the children?"

"No, not yet," Dave whispered back after thinking for a moment. "We don't want to get their hopes up if this…if this ends…if this ends badly," Dave barely managed to let the words escape his lips. "Detective Morin said that situations like this are risky. But I'm not going to bed until I hear from him again."

"I'll make some coffee, dear," Miss Miller patted Dave's shoulder, wiping the tears dry that had managed to escape.

Dave nodded and yawned, then collapsed onto a nearby armchair, clutching the phone.

Jeanette silently opened the door as Simon adjusted the one crutch under his arm. It was one in the morning, their planned time for the escape, and Jeanette's heart was pounding in her chest. She poked her head out, looked left, looked right, and motioned to Simon once there was no one in sight. The chipmunk, now clad in a black sweat suit to better blend into the darkness, silently hobbled down the hall and into the recording room. Jeanette quickly followed, dressed in the same black sweat suit, and slipped behind the glass wall of the booth. Once Simon positioned himself behind the door, he gave Jeanette a thumbs up, who then nodded and turned a dial.

"Tonight's gonna be a good night, tonight's gonna be a good, good night…" The speakers boomed and the Black Eyed Peas broke the still of the night. They only had to wait a few seconds before hearing the distinct thumping of feet on the floor boards. The recording studio door opened, and a guard saw Jeanette.

"HEY-" the guard began to yell, but was quickly silenced when Simon used all his strength to whack him over the head once, twice, thrice with the one wooden crutch he would no longer need.

The bass of the song was moving the floor, and it wasn't long before the other guard walked in the doorway to find out what happened to his colleague. And it wasn't long before Simon's crutch broke from knocking him out as well.

Jeanette quickly shut off the music while Simon made sure that both men were unconscious. Then they walked right out of the room and hurried down through the kitchen to where the back door would be, but instead Monsieur Duponte was blocking it. Both Simon and Jeanette's hearts immediately dropped, and both began panicking as he pointed his revolver at them.

"M-M-Mr. D-D-Duponte, w-we th-thought that y-you w-were a-away selling our r-records?" Jeanette lamely spoke after a moment, her nerves chattering her teeth.

"My buyer didn't show," Monsieur Duponte replied simply in his accent as a sadistic grin crept onto his face. "Fortunate for me, eh? I would have lost my two little moneymakers. Well, I suppose I do have enough records, so I could spare you the beating and just kill you now," Monsieur Duponte mused smugly.

"Do you really want the blood of two kids on your hands? Do you want to look back on your life and realize that you ended two lives that could have gone away from here, and never spoken of you to anyone?" Simon spoke quickly, trying to buy them some time to find another way out.

"Oh, and you really expect me to believe that I would just let you two go free, and you would never tell anyone my name? That you would never tell them what I've done? I don't think so." Monsieur Duponte pointed his gun right at Simon's chest.

"You go first, little chipmunk. Don't worry; your little belle will be right behind you," Monsieur Duponte tightened his finger on the trigger.

Then the door was smashed in, and there were SWAT team members everywhere, yelling at Monsieur Duponte to put the gun down. Somewhere between the sudden events and confusion, Monsieur Duponte's finger pulled the trigger, and Simon stared in disbelief as time slowed before him. I'm about to die, he thought. I'm about to die and leave Jeanette. Forever.

"NO!" A far-off voice yelled, and a black blur was in mid-air before him. Brown hair, tall frame…

Jeanette.

The black form fell on the floor as Simon heard hot metal meeting the flesh. Blood. Lots of blood. No green eyes. The green eyes were closed.

Jeanette.

Simon knelt beside her, cupping her face with his paws, all sense and reason leaving him. He felt the tears cascade down his face as more blurs led a white blur away. He felt his body tremble as he took off his shirt to once again soak up her blood when some logic returned, and applied pressure to the profusely bleeding wound above her stomach.

Jeanette.

Navy blue blurs were trying to pull Simon away, but he shrugged out of their grip, keeping his paws on the shirt now soaked with blood. He could feel the blood oozing between his fingertips. Her blood.

Jeanette.

Everything was out of focus. Everything except for her. Jeanette was all Simon could see as three separate blurs pulled him away from her. Someone told him that he had done all he could, that the paramedics would take over. Simon couldn't tear his eyes away as Jeanette was gently moved onto a stretcher, then brought outside. Simon limped to follow Jeanette into the back of an ambulance, tears pouring down his face, shrugging off anyone who tried to touch him. He collapsed, his leg still not strong enough, but someone caught him and pulled him into a tight, protective hug.

Simon refused to hug back. The man was unfamiliar to him. Did he say his name was Detective Morin? Simon couldn't tell. He wasn't hearing anything. Only the sound of Jeanette's weak heartbeat beeping through the monitor as the detective led him into the back of the ambulance. The doors shut. The ambulance began to move as two paramedics worked to stop the bleeding. She's losing too much blood; Simon thought he heard them say. The monitor let out a long, single shrill. She was flat lining.

Jeanette.

"I will never say goodbye to you."

The pads were charged, and Simon heard the distinctive, "Clear!"

Again.

And again.

Her heartbeat came back, and Simon let out the breath he had been holding. They put her on oxygen.

But Jeanette's green eyes still wouldn't open.