AN: Heya, not much to say in this first note, there's one at the end you should read, and it's kinda long. ::shrug:: Oh well! ::smile:: Here ya go. Oh, BTW, the first line may not correlated directly the same to the end of the last chapter, but it works out better this way so...I changed it. Author's privilege. ::smirk:: Blah to you who don't like it.

Spoiler/Disclaimer: Still the same. ::thinks:: Why would it change? Like I suddenly bought the rights or something... ::thinks about how incredibly awesome that would be::

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"What the hell are you saying, Webb?" Both officers said in unison.

"I'm saying that you better listen to me if you want to get off this mountain and back to the States in one piece. You see, if I had let you go, you probably would've bullied the conductor into stopping, jumped off, and been shot within minutes after 'jumping ship'. Obviously, we are going to stop, and when we do I doubt that any of the people we'll encounter will be overly pleasant. I doubt with all your yelling that you could sense anything, but if you'd shut your loud lawyer mouths for a second you could hear the familiar hum of a..." He trailed off, leaving them to answer. Mac heard the aircraft above them first.

"Helicopter!" She exclaimed, backing away from the window instinctively. The scenery outside told them that the train was only slowing down now, their speed drastically decreased.

"Alright, Webb. We get it. We need your help to get home." When the CIA agent said nothing but smiled smugly, Harm took it upon himself to finally knock some sense into him, literally. He abandoned the handgun and landed a solid blow on Webb's chin, sending him reeling across the room. Harm nearly growled as he cracked the knuckles in that hand, shaking it twice and flexing his fingers for a minute. Mac laid a firm hand on his shoulder as a warning, though not complaining at all about the recent punch. They both kept watch and readied their guns while Clayton recovered.

"Son of a..." Webb began, but silenced by two icy glares. "Ok, never mind. Let's see you get out of these barren mountains on your own!" He pouted like a toddler and threw himself into a chair in the room, surveying the two people who needed his knowledge more than he at the present moment with contempt.

"You know, we don't have to be nice to you, Webb." Mac was lightly rubbing the muzzle of her gun, and Webb started to protest, sitting up.

"This is nice?!" Once more he quit speaking and slouched in his chair after being stared at.

"I may not be able to do much now, but rest assured you'll have no rest if I make it out alive with no thanks to you," Harm said, sitting partly on the window sill and crossing his arms, looking outside at the gray sky. Mac sighed, returned her gun to the small of her back and approached Webb.

"I think it's time we agree to disagree and you tell me how to get off this god forsaken rock. Now."

"You know, I think that is the smartest thing either one of you has said since we left the States. Truce." Webb rose and scurried around the room, making small, quick movements; pulling down the window shade, locking the door to his room, flicking on the light, and retrieving small items from hidden places. He spread the collected materials out on a small wooden table under the singular light and pulled a long paper out of a duffle bag procured from under his bed. Upon its unfolding the paper was revealed to be a map of France, and both Mac and Harm's eyes looked swiftly along twisted and highlighted routes, but Webb first pointed out a city near the southeastern coast.

"Ok, this is Nice, where we first landed. We then went by bus into the very southern tip of the Alps and boarded the train we're on now. The 'abandoned' ski resort we were supposed to be going to is near the summit of Mt. Blanc," he lifted his finger and put it down again a moment later, "here."

"What's this?" Mac asked, running her own finger along the creased map over a highlighted course that eventually led to Paris, like all of the branching and criss-crossing paths. "Or what are these, should I say."

"The many ways to reach our last point, and the help in Paris, should something go wrong. As it so obviously has, you'll be taking the most direct route. According to our current – excuse me – previous speed, we are about...here." His finger moved what seemed like maybe a centimeter, when in reality it was more like a few inches, over the brown shaded part of the map indicating mountainous areas. "Ok, as far as I can tell, we're going to hit a crossroads here that's about a midpoint between our boarding point and the resort – yes, even with the decreased speed. Even a relatively small train like this won't come to a stop for a couple of hours. We're about halfway to the 'hideout', so I suggest you cut straight through, crossing the Rhone River here, and follow the Massif Central until you reach the bend in the Loire River. When you hit the city of Orleans, you need to start heading north. There's a canal from there that leads straight to Paris. You can get out of the country with your real passports then." The plan seemed simple enough –well, as simple as it was going to get- and Harm could cover the distance with his fingers in a second. But something about the way Webb talked, as if a little worried or agitated about something bothered Harm, but he remained silent, fearing that he'd haul off and pummel Webb if he spoke any more to the man. Mac was more focused on her escape route for the moment.

"Alright, I suppose we'll be on foot. Do you think we could go here, to Lyon, and hop a plane straight back?" Webb shook his head sadly at the suggestion.

"I seriously discourage going over there. It's the hometown and headquarters to the big bad boss of the whole ring we've been trying to bring down. It'd be pretty suspicious if two American NAVY lawyers suddenly shoed up and expected a ride home, even if all your papers and passports were in order. The minute they run your names through a database and a CIA attachment pops up, well. I wouldn't want to be you." He studied the map a bit longer, rubbing his chin with his hand and weighing each option and possible path carefully. "Yes, I think this is best way. Take the map, and the duffel. Take only a small bag each, there should be enough food in the bag to last you two weeks. I'd say that on foot you can make it to the Rhone River in four days, and find a vehicle after that. Even if you've got to get to Orleans without help, the food should last until then. If it's the 17th today, then you should be home by the ..." Webb trailed off, counting in his head.

"23rd, at the latest." Mac had a lightning quick –and accurate- internal calculator, as well as clock. "If we're going to get off this train then we've go to go now." Mac grabbed the map, Harm the sack and together they sped off to their room, leaving Webb in their dust. It was the work of a moment to prepare the things necessary and they ended up being able to stuff everything into the one duffel, wearing layers of clothes just light enough not to hinder their flight. They made their way back to the caboose, navigating the cold and rickety metal bridging between cars quickly and hoping that they'd not been seen. Sitting down in wait across the car from each other, it seemed that the previous kisses hadn't been shared. On some invisible cue, Mac stood up and slid open the door. Despite the continually slowing train, it was still going at quite some speed and the wind lashed at them, snow swirling and hungrily whipping and trying to get inside. They shared their special sidelong glance and squinted against the bitter cold, noses already tinged with pink in that short time.

"Ready?" Harm asked, hesitatingly moving a gloved hand towards hers and brushing it with his fingertips.

"As I'll ever be." Mac's hand brushed back and then slipped in, holding tightly. They grimaced against the snowstorm, against Webb, against everything that took them away from their normal-as-JAG-gets lives and safe, warm homes.

"How much longer 'til we jump?"

"Less than a minute."

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AN: I left another cliffy! Well... ::thinks:: How else are you supposed to end chapters without ending the story? ::wonders...then realizes she doesn't care:: Oh well! Dood...I wrote almost all of this in one sitting. I've had writers block for this story trying to figure out the plot and junk! If you've got any ideas, feel free to e-mail me, just say in the little RE: box that it's about the fanfic, ok? This should be the last of the informational chapters; I just wanted to get it all out of the way, no more boring stuff. Forgive me if the time frame seems a little off but I need them to arrive in Paris on...you guessed it, Christmas! If there are any other flaws, let me know and I'll do my best to fix them. I am pretty sure that the geography of France is accurate because I'm working straight out of a new atlas. You'll need a relief (mountain range-like) and political map as some of the things I've said my not make sense other wise if you try to follow their route. After this, it should be all action-y. I've got bits and pieces of chapters written, what's left is filling in the huge gaps with action and plot! ::smile:: Review, please, I accept anon's and it's just so I know people actually read this story. 'Cause I got reviews in the beginning, but now...I get none. ::cries:: So review...please...? C'mon. You know you want to. Besides, no reviews, no more story.