Michael glanced around, trying to get a hold of his bearings to decide on his next step. The sidearm he'd had with him had disappeared. The attacker had probably picked it up and ran off with it. All Michael had was the clothes on his back, his wallet and his cell phone. Useless. He peered down the direction Sam and Virgil had run off, but realized it would be pointless to go that direction. Who knew what path they would've taken? He could stay here and hope Sam and Virgil used the GPS to find their way back to him, but who knew what other nasty things the jungle held?

Forward. That was the best choice. He was out here for a reason, he might as well follow through on that. Of course it was going to be a lot more difficult without backup, ammo and a GPS, but he still had to try. Maybe he'd get lucky.

After picking a direction he thought was roughly the way they'd been going before he'd stumbled upon the mine, Michael continued forward.

XxXxX

"You're actually serious, aren't you?"

Sam sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead before taking a swig of the cold beer he had in his hand. "Yes, Fi. I am."

"I'm not sure what baffles me more: the random ninja in the middle of the Miami jungle, the jaguars in the middle of the Miami jungle or the fact that you're just going to leave Michael in the middle of the Miami jungle!"

"I'm not sure what we can do about that, exactly," Virgil piped in, shrugging.

"We could, I don't know, look for him?" Fiona suggested.

"How?" Samantha asked. Fiona shot her a death glare.

"I didn't ask for your input," she snapped. Samantha raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to be amused or offended.

"She's got a point, though, Fi," Sam said quickly before a cat fight could start over Michael's kitchen counter. "We don't have any way to find him. And, I hate to admit it, but he doesn't have any way to find us. We had the GPS."

"So we're just going to sit around while he dies out there?" Fi asked incredulously. "When are you gonna let Maddy know? I'd like to be as far away as possible when that happens."

Virgil and Sam exchanged a glance before answering. "I'll let her know when Sam and I get over there," Virgil said. "But we're not giving up on Mike. We'll find him."

"So what are we doing right now?"

"We," Sam said with emphasis, "are going to get some rest. You might remember the fact that Virg and I were chased my jaguars just a little while ago. We'll figure out what to do in the morning."

Fi still didn't look satisfied, but she kept her mouth shut. Sam gave her a grateful nod, turning to Virgil. "Don't… do anything stupid, Fi."

The glare she delivered could've killed.

XxXxX

A sudden snap of a twig made Michael whirl towards the sound, ready to fend off any unfriendly foe. When he saw nothing, he frowned, creeping forward. There was something back there, behind the brush, Michael could barely see a tuff of fur… or was that hair?

A small boy, about eight years old, stepped out curiously. His hair was ragged and his face was smeared with dirt. Michael couldn't believe his luck.

"Johnny? Are you Johnny?" Michael asked quietly, cautiously. Argh! Why did he always feel so awkward around kids? "Hey, look, my name's Michael."

The boy's eyes were wide, flicking around with paranoia as if he were trying to determine whether this stranger was a threat.

"I'm a friend," Michael assured him. "Is your mom close by? I've met her before, I need to talk to her."

The boy stayed silent, wide eyes started to make goosebumps crawl up Michael's arms.

"You can trust me," he said quickly. "I know you have no reason to, but you can. Please. I'm just trying to—Hey, wait!"

The boy had turned heel and was bolting away, surprisingly fast. Michael stood up, rushing after him. It was hard work: the boy was a lot smaller than Michael's six feet and took a few routes that forced Michael to crawl underneath brush, slowing him down.

Suddenly Michael had the wind knocked out of him. He halted, gasping for breath and looking down to see a large branch had just hit him square in the chest. He could swear that thing hadn't been there just a moment ago… He looked up to see a woman staring at him, eyes just as wide as Johnny's had been, hands clutching the other end of the large branch.

"Georgia," he gasped. She threw the branch to the side, jumping to attack him. Michael moved to block her, still fighting for air. "I'm here… to help!" Michael's vision was fuzzing over from the lack of oxygen and Georgia took full advantage of it. She swung around him, out of Michael's sight. He tried to turn around to keep his eyes on her, but found he couldn't quite move fast enough. Something solid hit the back of his head and Michael fell, blacking out.

XxXxX

Head pounding and ribs sore, Michael woke up with a low groan. He kept his eyes shut tightly for a moment, waiting for the sudden bout of nausea to pass before slowly propping himself up on his elbows and taking a look around.

The first thing that caught his attention was Johnny sitting just feet away, eyes still wide and scared, watching Michael closely. Once he saw Michael sit up, he bolted out.

"No, no, no, no, wait!" Michael called, reaching out one arm towards the kid. Dammit. He was probably going to get his mom.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Michael glanced around at the little strange hut he was in. Georgia really was creative, wasn't she? It was nowhere near a normal hut that you'd find in New Mexico or somewhere in another hemisphere. This one was made of plants that were still alive. As far as Michael could tell, the basic structure was made from the roots of a tree. It was fairly high and large enough for at least four grown men to fit in comfortably. Weaved through the roots were vines and large green leaves. Michael was impressed. Especially compared with his loft, this wasn't exactly a terrible place to live.

There was a sudden movement where Johnny had disappeared through and in walked Georgia, Johnny cowering behind her. Though Michael could recognize her from the time she'd been working with his dad, Georgia looked quite a bit different. Whereas last time everything about her had screamed middle class housewife, this time everything about her screamed crazed and wild. She wore a pair of jeans, ripped and torn, and a t-shirt, also ripped and torn. She had nothing on her feet and Michael could easily see the cuts and bug bites covering them. No wonder she'd gone crazy: the bugs out here would do that to anyone. Her hair was wild, large and tangled from a combination of no showers, no hairbrush, getting snagged in trees and humidity. Every inch of her seemed to be covered in mud, dry and cracking.

Her eyes, however, were the bit that really got to Michael. He couldn't remember what they had looked like last time they'd met, possibly because they had been hidden behind glasses, but now they were even larger than Johnny's seemingly permanent saucers, a brilliant shade of green, and gleaming with pure insanity.

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!