Torch's POV:

I couldn't bring myself to look at my brother.

My brother...

Instead, I stood with my back to the room and said, trying to disguise my voice, "C'mon, I'm trying to help you escape. So escape already."

I didn't hear anything, but a few moments later I felt a hand on my shoulder that made me flinch violently.

He mustn't turn me... I can't let him see my face...

He turned me.

I choked on a sob. I wanted to hug him... but after all I'd done, he'd never even want to look at me...

He drew me to himself. "It's okay, baby."

I wouldn't cry; I couldn't; I was the strong leader...

A tear splashed down onto the crutch which had fallen, unheeded, to the ground.

I sobbed into his shoulder, and his tears fell into my hair.

"I love you," I whispered. "I- I never should have- can you- please, forgive me!"

"Oh darling," he said softly into my hair, "I forgave you before you did it."

I choked again. "I'll never, ever, ever, ignore you again. I'll always-"

"Shhh..." he said soothingly.

Much as I wanted to never leave him, I knew that the others would be worried about me. Finally, we broke apart. I supported him to keep him from falling, and he tenderly traced the outline of my face.

"I'll get you out of here," I promised, "soon."

He smiled, and we embraced one last time before I went over to the window to climb out.

Cocky's POV:

When I got to the top, Racetrack gasped, with something suspiciously like a sob, "Oh Cocky!" and pulled me to himself. Then, very roughly, yet at the same time gently, placed his mouth on mine.

It was only after a few moments of standing in this position that we heard someone muttering behind us, "What a very disturbing display."

We turned, and saw David Jacobs.

Upon us staring at him, hard, he had the grace to blush, and shuffle his feet. "Now how do we get Torch out?" He inquired, almost defiantly.

Racetrack and I stared at each other, rather stupidly, it must be admitted, and it was then that it hit me.

We had left my rescuer in my former position- that being the inmate of a jail -with no means of escape!

"Well, what are we going to do?" Race said finally.

David paced back and forth on the rooftop, thinking and frowning mightily.

Racetrack and I glanced at each other, and mutely warned the other not to disturb him, or else suffer the dire consequences.

Race and I soon began to whisper to each other, however, and Race related to me what had been the happening on the rooftop some five or ten minutes ago.

Suddenly we heard David's voice (although at first I didn't think it could possibly be him), stating, "We'll just have to let Torch get herself out."

We gaped.

He put his head in his hands.

When he re-emerged from this state, he said, "Look. Do you really think I want to leave Torch in jail? This is just the best way to do it. We don't really have any other choice. And besides which, she will be able to do this a lot more efficiently than we could, and-"

"Wait, wait. What does that "fishy" word mean?" Racetrack demanded.

"You mean, efficiently?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it means effective or skilled or- oh, I don't know. Race, just shush."

From what I could see in the dim light, Racetrack looked mortally insulted.

"I just- I was just curious," he muttered.

He quickly regained his composure, however. "How do you know that?" he next demanded.

Dave shrugged. "It's obvious." He stated shortly. "But we've got to somehow tell her we're just leaving her to her own devices-"

"All right." And without further ado, Race leaned over the wall and said in a stage whisper, "Hey Torch, I'm sorry, but you've got to use your own ices. I mean-" I poked him- "You'll have to get yourself out."

"I should have known you guys would pull a stunt like this," came the reassuring answer, then a sigh. "Oh well. It's fine."

Racetrack looked relieved, and David looked abjectly worried.

"Let's go," I suggested gently, knowing that David was probably not in the best of moods.

We climbed down, from windowsill to windowsill. Once or twice I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming when I stumbled on the way down. Or when Racetrack did.

I was the first to reach the bottom, and when I did, I bit back a scream.

There lay Torch, unconscious, at my feet.

Before Race called out to me, I already knew that, since the rope was broken, the boys would have no other alternative but to let me make the suicidal climb down the wall of the Refuge.

So I set out.

Carefully, I slid onto the edge of the windowsill. Already, as I looked down the thirty-feet drop, I felt sweat on my forehead and hands.

Crutchy stood worriedly behind me, but was helpless to do anything.

Cautiously, in one smooth motion, I swung my entire body around so that my stomach was on the windowsill instead.

Just then, one of the kids cried, "Snyder!" Apparently, someone had been keeping watch.

Why would he come back when he's just been here? I wondered, but absently; I was very much preoccupied with trying to get out of sight and not break my neck.

I slid down, holding onto the ledge of the window, trying to feel with my feet for the next ledge.

A thousand curses on my shortness! I screamed in my mind. I couldn't reach the ledge. I knew it was right there, only about five or six inches away... I knew what I had to do.

My whole being raged that I couldn't, but Snyder was coming back. I knew I had to, or he would see me.

You know how sometimes you'll be doing something absolutely terrifying and then suddenly, everything seems to be going in slow-motion? Like nothing is really real, it's just all a dream, and a very, very slow one?

That's what it felt like when I let go of the ledge.

Crutchy's terrified face was the last thing I saw with my eyes-

David's sea-blue eyes was the last thing I saw in my mind.

They were beautiful.