Title: Johnny Survivor

Rating: PG-13. It got weird on me at the end. And Duke swore. Bad Duke!

Summary: Two words, peepshows. The merger.

Disclaimer: I own the ticket stubs to The Spongebob Squarepants Movie and 2 different viewings of Finding Neverland. And I'm keeping them!

Author's Notes: This is the first time I've been totally on my own for at least a couple chapters so… I sure hope I still remember how it's done. For Angel info, check out Chapter 7, and say hello to Dances With Rolls, (Rollie) Sam's Angel, and The Artisan of Quirk, (as yet, nameless) the newest sidekick. Congrats, chica!

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes…

Last time on Johnny Survivor

--- The challenge of the day was a trip on a log of the worst kind. Not that there is generally a good trip on a log, save a log flume at an amusement park. The teams had both established that Easter Island was no amusement park. The last Johnny standing would win glory and immunity for his tribe and in an amazing show of unity, Spencer and Donnie managed to unbalance Duke to win for Inaga.

Hahaga- Tribal Council

--- Hahaga wondered where they went wrong. Last they'd been aware, they'd been the top contenders. Now… well… they were going to be tied with Inaga for the first time since the beginning of the game. This wasn't the way to go into the merger; they needed their two member lead! The outrage!

No member of Hahaga would meet another's eyes. There was a mutual acceptance that whoever would go next would be a member of a strange and beautiful group of miscreants and weirdoes: the team nobody thought would have a chance. The first two votes had wheedled out the uptight in the group, and now there was no one left that could qualify as Average Joe. It was going to be a hard vote.

"Hahaga, you've returned. If you're grasping at straws, you did win that cruise. What'd you think?"

"Food," Mort moaned in pleasure. They'd had his 2 weaknesses well stocked. He hadn't touched the sandwiches or salad-type foods; he stuck with the dollar bags of Doritos and cans of Mountain Dew. The rest of the tribe had similar fond memories of pleasantly full stomachs and relaxation.

"I'd imagine," the host smirked. "So how'd this last challenge treat you?"

"Their collaboration was incredible," Edward murmured. "I've never seen any team work as well as they did."

"And we just don't seem to like to get along," Sands shrugged, not above noticing the other tribe's clearly superior joint effort.

"Why is that?" the host asked.

"Differences of opinion. Uh… manta rays…" Duke began rattling off different reasons for Hahaga's possible collapse.

"I see. Well, I suppose all that's left is to try harder, isn't it?"

"Easy fer you t'say," Jack quirked an eyebrow, watching the host's reaction. The host simply smiled sadly.

"Well, same as last time folks, one of you has won immunity for the night. The online voting has been closed and the winner of tonight's immunity…" he paused dramatically. "is Bon-bon."

Bon-bon couldn't help but smile faintly at the repeated honor. She must have been doing something right to be so well liked. She couldn't pin it one way or the other on Mort, so something else must have been at play. But she'd accept it because with the vote still up in the air, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Bon-bon, since you can't be voted out, would you mind voting first?"

Bon-bon shook her head and stood up gracefully. Better to get it over with as soon as possible.

Bon-bon

--- "I have chosen you because I am now non-partial and… you just seem like the best choice. You don't help out and you just don't do enough. If it makes you feel any better, I am sorry."

Edward

--- "I have no idea who to chose. I believe that you are more intimidating than you mean to be and I think you need to just be home where you can have all the support you'd need."

Mort

--- "I guess you really have changed. Good on you, not that I can really vote you out anyway. So I vote for you because… you're dragging us. You're a nice guy and all, but you just haven't done a whole lot."

Hahaga- Tribal Council

--- It was Jack's turn to vote last this time around. He reseated himself beside Edward and waited for the host to make his pithy remark about getting the votes.

"I'll go tally the votes."

Jack snorted. That guy never disappointed. He could feel Sands shifting behind him; the agent seemed down right antsy. He wondered if Sands really felt he had a chance of being voted off. Then again, who didn't?

"Once the votes are read, the decision is final. The person voted out will be asked to leave Tribal Council immediately. The first vote. Edward."

The host looked up while turning the parchment around.

"Second vote. Duke"

A parchment was revealed to have "Duke" scrawled in a thin, spidery font with fewer poked holed than normal.

"Third vote. Duke."

Duke was trying very hard not to say anything. A shaking hand withdrew a cigarette from his case and stuck it in the filter. Not bothering with a lighter, he lit it on his torch and began to nervously chew on the plastic.

"Fourth vote. Edward. Two votes Edward, two votes Duke."

Edward bowed his head. Duke's cigarette was nearly gone.

"Fifth vote. Edward."

Edward's breath caught. It could still be a tie. He hoped it was.

"The last vote."

The host didn't read it aloud; he turned the parchment over. Duke exhaled heavily, caving in on himself and cradling a weary head in arms resembling little more than limp noodles. Edward stood up.

"Edward, bring me your torch."

Edward managed to pick the staff up without slicing it in two and deposited it in front of the host.

"The tribe has spoken."

The host smothered Edward's flame.

Edward

--- "I should have seen it coming. I don't think I have a lot to say. I miss LMM, I'll be glad to go back."

Duke

--- "Too close. Far too close. Terrible vibrations. This is sinister."

Inaga- Late night

--- Sam was lying awake, arms behind his head. The events of the past 18 days had been a wild rollercoaster of triumph, despair and confusion. Angels crawled out of the woodworks and to Sam's knowledge, Donnie and Ichy were as equally lacking in Angel contact as he was. That kind of sad story was worthy of Oprah, but Sam refused to complain. It wasn't who he was.

But the separation anxiety of a Johnny for an Angel will undeniably do stuff to the mind. Sam could almost believe a familiar form was sliding up beside him and snuggling against his recumbent figure.

"I missed you," she whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment, but needing to interact.

"I missed you too," Sam replied shyly. Part of him insisted this was an illusion; he'd been too long without his Rollie. His senses told his brain to go jump off a bridge. His Dances With Rolls had come to the island to see him and here was concrete proof! But doubt still managed to glower at him from its cage in the corner of his mind.

"Rollie?"

"Sam?" she asked. She propped herself up on an elbow so as to best answer her Johnny. Concern clouded her eyes, hoping she could put her Johnny at ease.

"Rollie? Is it really you?"

Rollie smiled slightly, grateful this was all that plagued Sam's thinking. Instead of bothering with such cumbersome answers formed by human speech, she scooted closer, tugged Sam's arm from under his head and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

Sam's worries disappeared instantaneously. All that mattered was Rollie, bless her. He returned her kiss in acknowledgement. When they finally broke apart, Sam was the first to break the silence.

"I still love you."

Rollie hugged him tightly. "You know that line gets me teary-eyed."

"I do," Sam smiled.

"I still love you too. And I missed you. I had to come and make sure you were okay. All the other Angels come to the island regularly and I just wanted one chance to see you. I hope I didn't distract you, oh my gosh, I'm so sorry if I did-!"

"Sh," Sam laughed quietly. "You're not distracting me! I was just thinking of you, love. I'm really glad you came. I've missed you more than you can imagine." He hugged her tightly for emphasis.

"I'm glad I could talk to you. The Group Home's not the same without you."

"How'd you get here?" Sam asked, realizing people often didn't fall out of the sky. At that moment, an annoyed honk echoed from out in the middle of the ocean.

Rollie sighed. "I hired a boat. He's probably getting impatient. I'm sorry, Sam. You know I'd rather stay with you, right?"

"I don't think you're allowed to be here," Sam said softly. He spared a glance for his sleeping companions as though fearful one would wake and rat him out. No one stirred, save Rollie who was crawling out of Sam's loving arms through sheer force of will.

"Me neither. I don't think Arenas would bite my head off, but there's no point in tempting fate," Rollie giggled.

"Would she really do that?" Sam asked, rather alarmed.

"Arenas? No, of course not! I don't think," Rollie frowned in thought. Nobody had really tried the Agente's patience before, had they? But the frequent island hopping and prior demands for updates must have made their mark. Maybe…

"You'd better go," Sam nodded, a worried look spreading across his moon-silvered features. He got to his feet to share a last hug and kiss with his Angel.

"I love you," she murmured.

"I love you too," he answered. She couldn't stay any longer or she wouldn't be able to return home without Sam at all. The separation was beginning to get to her. But Sam overcoming any and all odds would be worth it in the end. She pecked him on the cheek and fled before he could convince her to stay with no more than his eyes. He'd had that power since Day 1.

Sam watched Rollie disappear with a sad smile on his face. He was still a part of the majority, but it was a different majority. It was the contented Inaga folk who could go another 18 days and to the ends of the earth with the knowledge that at home, he was still loved.

Hahaga- Early Morning

--- Sam wasn't the only sleepless Johnny that night. Jack hadn't been able to get a wink of sleep either. He wasn't suffering severe rum withdrawal; he'd been able to stock up during the cruise, but it was that same cruise that had been plaguing his mind. He'd bought a trinket at the gift shop with some of the uncursed coins in his pocket and now he wasn't sure how to work it.

The shopkeep had said that it would provide a glimpse of one's true love, time enough to share an intimate moment to tide them both over until a reunion. Jack didn't see a reason not to try it; after all, he'd partaken in weirder voodoo before.

Tossing and turning was doing little good and only further tangled his hair so he gave sleep up. Instead, he sat by the campfire and took the mini-moai out of his pocket. It looked wholly uninteresting and if not for the metal hinge on the back of its head, he would have passed it off as a piece of carp. The top piece lifted up to reveal the face of the old lady he'd bought the moai from.

"Please record your message after the beep."

The moai chirped happily and Jack dropped the figurine. What strange trickery! The head had snapped shut on impact and bounced dangerously close to the fire. Jack scooped it up again, believing firmly in 'Waste not, want not.'

The sun was beginning to brighten the horizon to a tickle-me-pink sort of hue when Jack mastered the gift. He carefully stole a pad of paper and a pen from Mort's magic back pocket and scribbled a note to CC. It would be a long shot that she'd receive it directly, so he penned another note requesting the moai find its way to The Caribbean Crusader. Then, Jack did something he hadn't done in a long while. He called a couple of sea turtles.

Myth said that Captain Jack Sparrow had to wait three days before some sea turtles happened to wander by. He himself had told Elizabeth that he'd been rescued by rum runners. They were both lies. There were no rum runners involved and he never had to wait for the turtles. In truth, it had been a combination of the two stories: he'd spent three days drinking rum, true enough. But when he'd grown weary of that, he called a couple of sea turtles and he's been whisked away from the island. He had a special bond with turtles. Now, he needed a favor from them.

A green head popped above the gently lapping surf. Jack took the opportunity to detail his plan for the reptile. The turtle would be required to carry the moai across the ocean to Angel Headquarters. It was a very special delivery and nothing could happen to it as Jack would find out and the consequences would be extremely severe. The turtle eyed Jack and nodded lazily in understanding. Jack smiled with satisfaction and handed the cargo over. He never took his eyes off the turtle until it had disappeared over the horizon. When he waded back to shore, Sands was already awake and reheating the leftover chicken from the cruise. Hahaga had been resourceful in their smuggling back of real food.

"Aye, I can talk t'sea turtles," Jack answered the unasked question. Sands looked up at the pirate with a raised eyebrow.

"If I were concerned with the strange things that went on at this camp, I'd've had a total mental breakdown ages ago, señor, so, welcome to the club," Sands smirked. Jack didn't know if the sarcasm was normal, from a lack of sleep or something else, so he declined comment. Nobody knew Sands' agenda and that was what the agent liked.

Sands wouldn't push Jack into conversation and returned his attention to the now warm poultry. It was Duke who wandered out of the shelter next with a troubled look shadowing his face. Jack cocked his head as the journalist plopped down next to him.

I see why Mort's been so paranoid," Duke said by way of greeting.

"It's been my understandin' that 'e's been recoverin' since th'young lass left 'im alone," Jack replied.

Yeah, but before that. The… uh… lass… got cold last night and ah… wound up a little too close to my side of the shelter…"

"You don't think he's coming on to you, do you?" Sands quirked an eyebrow. "She had Ben and Jerry's. Ben and Jerry's heals all wounds. She's sworn us off for awhile yet."

"I don't think it was intimate. I mean… I hope not," Duke's jaw twitched in memory at waking up next to a gloriously beautiful… man. Duke didn't want a conflict, but by God, there would be if she forced the matter. And speak of the Devil…

"Was it warm last night or was it me?" Bon-bon grinned behind a yawn. She'd just woken up and decided she wanted breakfast.

"Or maybe it was me," Duke glowered, in no mood for subtle games.

"Are you running a fever?" she asked. She seemed genuinely concerned for Duke's health.

"You tell me."

"What in the world do you mean?"

"Are you coming on to me?"

"What?"

Sands and Jack managed to busy themselves with menial tasks to avoid this new issue. Nobody should be asked to handle this trip.

"I demand to know why you were draped over me like a blanket."

"How dare you!" Bon-bon yelled and promptly slapped Duke. Jack hissed in sympathy. Duke's eyes widened as tentative fingers explored the throbbing cheek. Ow, ow, ow, ow…

"A simple no would have sufficed," Duke whispered. For all the delicate beauty of Bon-bon, she was still a man and he sure knew how to pack power in a blow.

"I still have my dignity!"

"I'm sorry I misjudged you. Go back in the tent and try to calm down. Do whatever you have to, but don't come anywhere near me."

"Don't tell me what to do!" she screamed, angling her palm for another whack.

"Okay, okay, I'll go back to the tent!" Duke raised his hands to show no ill will and crept back to the shelter and his case. No ether, he needed something a bit more relaxing. Bon-bon, as a final attempt to establish that she wanted no part of Duke or any other team mate, smacked the journalist on the shoulder blades.

"And don't you accuse me of this again!"

Sands took the opportunity to drape an arm around Bon-bon's shoulders and lead her down to the beach.

"Listen… chica… I don't know where you get off being a…" Sands trailed off to try and find the right word to describe the transvestite.

"A woman of dignity!"

"Sure, yeah, that. You've really gotta not be so touchy. People don't like being slapped or beaten up. I say this because I like you in a… purely… platonic way and a little birdie asked me to consider watching your back.

"I don't need your sympathies."

"And trust me, I'm not offering them as I haven't got any. What I am offering is help and good advice for when those hormones just sorta… boil around and… make life difficult."

"I can take care of myself, thank you!"

"You're making this hard for me to be patient."

"And I'm supposed to be concerned."

"Do you want the others to gang up on you?" Sands asked cuttingly. Bon-bon looked ready to pop the agent in the jaw, but through the magic of self-restraint, heard him out. "I thought not. Now, I've got a proposition for you. You lie low and keep yourself out of the line of fire, and I'll support you. You get picked on or want to try and vote someone else off, I'll offer my services. In the latter case, I'll certainly tell you who I think you should vote for, but I'm willing to compromise. Does this sound like a reasonable proposal?"

"What's in it for you?"

Clever girl, Sands thought. Out loud, he said, "Hopefully, a chance at the Final Two. The rabble at camp is just that, a disorganized rabble. I don't know Inaga well enough, but I'm willing to bet they're close. We've gotta go after Inaga first in order to keep ourselves on top, savvy?"

"You are underhanded and pure evil."

"Yes, thank you. Do we have a deal?"

Bon-bon couldn't help but feel that she'd be selling her soul to the Devil. She didn't even really need to win the game. Now she was here for the sun and company. This Sands seemed bent on strategy and Bon-bon couldn't bring herself to care.

"Whatever. I'm non-partial, Agent Sands, but I'll keep your offer in mind. Now, I am hungry and demand my breakfast. Good bye."

Sands sighed and rolled his eyes. Evil, moody, possibly PMS-ing shemale. Instead of dealing with "that rabble," he stripped to his shorts and went swimming.

Bon-bon

--- "So I wake up a little closer than somebody was comfortable with. I'm sorry you all think that I'm out to snog you all senseless, but honestly, who has that kind of stamina? If I wanted to do what you're all convinced I want to do, you'd have known about it a lot earlier, wouldn't you? Now I'm stuck in some kind of deal with some corrupt official who thinks he's doing me a favor. What is it with you people? You're all just flipping insane. I'll be glad when I get off this island and get to be with some… normal people.

Sands

--- "I will not blow someone's head off. I will not blow someone's head off. I can't blow someone's head off. I will not blow someone's head off…"

Duke

--- "Dear Lord… please don't let anyone sleep near me tonight."

Jack

--- "Wonder where that sea turtle is…"

Inaga- Late Afternoon

--- Donnie was bored. He'd relaxed enough and needed a hobby. Axel had suggested talking to the tunas (who were being particularly chatty that day) and Spencer had pointed out the tribe needed to rig some kind of security system if they expected to not be caught unawares anymore. Donnie left the former to Axel and the latter to Ichy. He wanted more excitement. So he grabbed up a stick and machete and wandered away from camp.

If he wanted to be honest with himself, this kind of nature experience gave him a thrill of adventure: a regular Rapa Nui Lord of the Flies. It was him against the world and all of nature. Ha!

Not two minutes into his nature walk, he observed a set of cloven footprints in freshly stamped dirt. He didn't know how he knew, just that whatever had made the tracks couldn't be too far away. And Donnie, Joe, General Brasco, whoever he was would catch it like his ancient ancestors had in the time of the mammoths and giant cats.

Donnie grinned in anticipation, and followed the footsteps.

Inaga- Evening

--- Ichabod's head shot up at the sound of a snap. The security system! Ichy bounded towards the intricate stick trap system to check it for intruders. What he found caused him to faint instantaneously.

"Hey, no wait, Ichy, it's me!" Donnie yelled, hefting the boar aside to better see the fallen Constable. It was too late; Ichabod was out cold, scared by a dead pig. Donnie sighed and tugged at his foot ineffectually. Ichy had done good work; Donnie wouldn't be escaping anytime soon. But that idea didn't really appeal to the FBI agent.

"A little help!" he called to whoever may have been listening. Maybe Spencer was supervising the testing. Probably not. It was dinnertime.

Donnie eyed the boar that had gotten him into this mess. The boar wouldn't return the stare. Donnie sighed again and tried calling for help again. It would be well past dinner before anybody would begin wondering about the well-being of the two missing Inaga-ites enough to send out a search party. Donnie had managed to find a semi-comfortable sitting position with the boar reclining not too far away. Ichy was still crumpled where he's fainted.

"You got caught in the trap," Spencer raised a brow.

"When I'd left this afternoon, it wasn't yet a trap," Donnie pointed out.

"Well done, General Brasco."

"Shut up and get me free. I want dinner. Oh, and I brought some too, if anybody's interested."

"Pork?" Axel poked his head out from behind Spencer.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Donnie nodded. A stomach growled loudly and more than a few mouths were watering.

"All right, Brasco, you've earned it. Up," Spencer pulled Donnie's foot out of the hole, mindful of the sharp sticks that had previously kept it in place.

Axel glanced at Ichy. "Should we carry him?"

"He'll wake up," Donnie shrugged. Axel looked at Donnie in horror.

"What? It's his fault I got caught."

Spencer snorted, but said not a thing.

Hahaga- Morning

--- Jack was up early again, searching out the sea turtle who had borne his gift. It was possible that the turtle was still delivering the moai, but Jack wouldn't have it. The turtle was doing him a favor and it would be doing it as fast and efficiently as its little flippers could handle. Really, really slowly, as a turtle often does. Jack grumbled. Bloody stupid turtles taking their sweet time of everything.

Mort was elected to run interference when he woke up. Jack hadn't returned to camp and the rest of Hahaga was beginning to worry. Mort tried not to yawn as he tapped Jack on the shoulder.

"What's the trou-trou-tooouuuble," Mort asked into his sleeve.

"Ye say somethin', mate?" Jack barely turned his head to acknowledge Mort. Mort rubbed his eyes and cracked his jaw before he attempted speech again.

"I did. What's the trouble, John Wayne?"

"Captain. If ye must call me… John Wayne… do not neglect the captain, savvy?"

"Sorry, Captain John Wayne, I forgot. You're still avoiding my question," Mort stifled another yawn.

" 'N what was that, lad?"

"Jack…"

"All right, all right." Jack knew he wasn't getting another 'Captain' in. " 'M worried CC won't get me gift."

"Why would you say that?"

"Turtles haven't got the best sense of direction, let's just face facts here. At least not th'ones I know."

"Did you give them rum beforehand?"

"… might've."

Mort didn't laugh. "Jack, could you possibly have a drinking problem?"

"Now why would ye think that?"

"Your one-track, rum-befuddled mind was a hint."

"Jes what're ye tryin' t'say, mate?"

"Nothing, nothing, never mind," Mort waved the near confrontation off. "Listen, you've gotta stop moping. People are getting worried. C'mon back to camp. Duke went to get the clue and you have to pretend to be interested in it."

"What d'ye plan on doin' if I don't?"

"Going Shooter on you. And trust me, I have no reservations about doing it either," Mort warned. He wasn't sure he could call Shooter out of the depths of his mind, but he didn't think it'd be terribly hard. He wasn't afraid of Shooter taking over either, Bon-bon would see to that. As it turned out, Mort didn't have to release the Shooter inside anyway. Duke returned with the clue in hand.

An obstacle course

No fire, no catch, just run fast

Bring your belongings

Duke rubbed his forehead. "No catch?"

"No catch," Sands frowned. There was always a catch.

"Are we just going to stand here like ninnies or are we going to go?" Bon-bon rolled her eyes.

"We've gotta strike camp first," Duke tapped the clue. There was a collective sigh and Hahaga began the dreary task of destroying their camp.

Inaga- Afternoon

--- It was as the haiku said; it was a simple obstacle course. Well, not simple in the sense that it would be easy to accomplish, but compared to some of their other challenges, it looked like a cakewalk. Inaga placed their gear in a convenient spot and waited for the arrival of Hahaga and the host.

"Welcome teams, this could be the most crucial reward challenge of the game right here. Are we ready?" the host grinned at the tiring faces around him.

"It is an obstacle course with one person from each tribe at each station. The first person will swim in from the dock in the ocean, run up the beach to the second station. There, he'll meet up with the second team mate and both members will swing over the mud pit. If any part of your body touches mud, both members must go back to the beginning of the station and try again. That said, if both members cross, they go to the third station where the third member waits. There are 3 ball peen hammers per tribe. Each member will smash coconut husks to find keys. The three members will meet a fourth at the next station where each key found will be utilized to unlock the gate in your way. Then, lastly, the entire tribe will meet up at the last station where everyone will have to cross a 3 inch wide balance beam. If anybody falls off, the entire tribe must go back to the beginning of the station. Comprende?"

Bon-bon groaned.

"Survivors, to your marks."

Jack and Donnie were in the starting positions. The host was safe and dry on the beach, watching the sun reflect off the gentle waves. He raised a gun. Sands swore in recognition and Duke threw a dirt clod at him.

"Go!" the host yelled, firing the blank.

Jack and Donnie hit the water at the same time. Jack had taken off most of his effects, but it didn't help much compared to Donnie who was down to a pair of shorts. Jack, being used to speed swimming, managed to keep it a close enough race, though he wasn't winning. Donnie slogged up the beach first to tag Spencer and drag him along. Jack was close behind, tagging Sands and almost tripping on a particularly slippery patch of beach.

Spencer swung over the pit neatly and threw the rope back to Donnie who had to catch his breath. Sparing a glance for the gaining Hahaga, he too swung across. Spencer had to grab his arm before he fell backwards into the mud, but neither had to do the challenge over again. Jack was a different story. He had refused to shuck his water heavy clothes, causing him to slide down the rope and plop into the mud on his butt. Sands expression was an interesting combination of annoyance and amusement at the confused look adorning the captain's face. The second time, after the forceful removal of the shirt and boots, both Hahagans hopped the mud puddle and caught up to Donnie, Spencer and Sam who were still smashing coconuts. Duke was ready.

Duke was familiar with coconut smashing and was all over the job. Inaga packed up not 2 minutes later, but Hahaga had gone through three-quarters of its coconuts. Inaga had taken 5 minutes to do that much. The gap was closing, but Ichabod nearly had half the locks open for Inaga. Bon-bon's insistence at jamming any key in willy-nilly wasn't doing Hahaga any good, so she was officially banned from unlocking anything. Inaga bolted through the open gate and met Axel at the balance beam. A short debate, and Axel was the first to attempt a crossing. He got 2 steps before overbalancing into the cargo net below. Hahaga's locks were half done; Inaga didn't have much time left for experimentation. It was Ichy who inched across the beam on all fours, splinters catching in his shirt and pants crotch. What little pain there might have been was lost in the adrenalin rush pumping through his veins.

Hahaga was through their gate and running for all they were worth. Mort had time to observe Ichy's cleverness and switched the teal robe around, tying it securely like a lab apron. It worked like a charm, and would even protect topless Jack if they could toss the garment back and forth. It wasn't the time to analyze though; they were behind as Sam teetered across the board and fell forward on the other side safely. As soon as Mort rolled onto the other platform, Duke lurched forward.

It was a close game, very close. Duke's ungraceful running walk had enough momentum to carry him across without incident, and even managed to gain on Inaga. Sands tried the same tactic, minus the wobbling and leaped before he lost his balance. Axel had learned from his earlier mistake and tried inching along as well. By this time, both teams had 4 men across. Jack and Donnie still had to cross. Donnie opted to inch, Jack, to run. Unfortunately, with his boots still at the mud hole, Jack simply did not have a chance. With a splinter in his foot, he toppled off the beam hissing in pain. Donnie had to be creative with his crawling without protective clothing, and he was again grabbed by helping hands before he could plummet. Inaga crossed the finish line as a team.

"Inaga wins the reward! Inaga, your camp will be the new base for the merger. That's right, Survivors. This was the last team reward challenge. You will no longer be known as Hahaga and Inaga, but Varua, and your camp will be the former Inaga's stomping grounds. You must take all your supplies to the new camp and settle in. Here are the new buffs…"

Hahaga didn't have time to feel sorry for themselves. The flurry of movement and activity as buffs were passed out and gear was gathered again. The new buffs had the same logo, but were a deep navy blue color.

"Inaga, lead the way. Make Hahaga feel at home, show them the water supply, the beach and so forth. We'll be seeing you tomorrow for the immunity challenge."

Mort

--- "What just happened? Did we lose?"

Donnie

--- "That was our reward? Odd. Very odd."

Duke

--- "Blue? At least it's not that puke green anymore. That was doing some rotten things to my mind."

Varua- Late afternoon

--- The ten tribe members came upon Inaga's camp with something akin to fear and caution. In place of the Orange banner, there was now the navy blue Varua pennant snapping in the breeze. In the middle of the camp beside a roaring fire were baskets filled with food and drink. It was absolute paradise and it eased the 'Getting to Know You' process a bit.

Duke, cradling a mug of liqueur, had begun a careful inspection of the new camp. No bats… this was good. No manta rays or moray eels either. Perhaps the switch hadn't been all bad; Duke had been sensing the impending uprising of the bats, rays and eels (oh my) for days. Needless to say, he hadn't been watching the ground as carefully as the sky. He became the second person to fall victim to clever Ichy's trap.

Bon-bon had also been busy exploring Inaga's camp. It had changed drastically since he'd last seen it at the beginning of the game. In fact, she couldn't remember the life-like Duke flailing madly in the bushes. Even the animated swearing was realistic.

"Get me out of here you pig smeepers! Leggo my leg, ARGH! They've got me!"

"Calm down, you big weirdo," Bon-bon rolled her eyes. She knelt by Duke's foot and gave a tentative tug. Duke yelped in pain as the sticks—or lizard teeth—bit hard into the bare flesh. Bon-bon winced and stuffed the foot back into the trap. Once the sticks were pushed downward, she pulled Duke's leg out carefully. The journalist scrambled away from the trap and sat panting against the bush. Bon-bon waited patiently for Duke to make the first move.

"I'm sorry I accused you of sleeping with me," Duke mumbled.

"It's all right now. Do not worry about a thing," Bon-bon replied calmly. Duke bit his lip.

"Did you do that to prove your intentions or… ah…"

"Because I'm a naturally caring individual?"

"Yeah, that too. I think…"

"I did it because I could and I wanted to help. Good enough?"

"I uh… sure. Why not." Duke had lapsed into his no-profanity policy again. However, he still wasn't totally pure; he took out a fresh cigarette and stuck it into the filter. Reaching for his case, he pulled out a lighter and did what was second nature.

"You've had a lighter all this time?" Bon-bon raised an eyebrow.

"What else am I going to smoke with?"

"And you didn't help us light the fire in the beginning."

"I ah… forgot… I had it and… it's all water under the ah… bridge now, isn't it?"

"More or less," Bon-bon sighed. They may not have been the closest or even farthest of friends, but they were no longer mortal enemies. It was a start.

Meanwhile

--- Sands had snagged a cup and filled it with tequila. If nothing else, he had missed tequila. And… his Angel… to be sure, but how could she expect him to keep a level head without the alcohol? Honestly. He didn't notice the person who sat next to him.

"What, no cow's blood?"

Sands fought to not startle. That wouldn't do, would it? A glance out of his peripheral vision revealed none other than Spencer, his nemesis in the last food challenge. Fancy that.

"No, no cow blood. The last vintage turned me off to the idea temporarily," he replied airily. He took another pull at the cup and swallowed as Spencer sized him up.

"Are you always that sarcastic?"

"Yes," Sands tried the direct approach. Let's watch Mr. Spencer squirm

"Charming."

"There are some that think so."

"I'm not one of them."

"You sound as though you can give better than you can take," Sands smirked. Spencer looked murderous.

"Spencer, meeting the opposition already are we?" Axel announced, winning smile plastered securely in place. He sat between the combatants to diffuse the tense feeling about them. Spencer sneered and scooted away. Axel sighed, "I'm sorry, but he's kinda moody. I wouldn't take it personally."

"If I didn't like to annoy people, I'd be sorely tempted to be feel vexed. But I have this fine tequila, a sizeable feast to look forward to, and there's nothing anyone can say to put me in a bad mood," Sands grinned. Something about this youngster—Axel?—put him at ease. Maybe it was the Chicle ambience about him. He was now the youngest Survivor still standing. Whatever the reason of Sands' amicability towards this complete stranger, the agent wouldn't question it.

"I guess that's a good thin." A smile tugged at the corners of Axel's mouth. Sands clapped a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Don't worry about the stuff you can see. You can always keep tabs on it and take care of it later. It's the stuff you can't see that you want to watch out for."

Varua- Night

--- The party atmosphere lasted until well into the night. The alcohol flowed freely and soon, many of the Suvivors were thoroughly inebriated.

"I… love you. I do," Shooter slurred, poking Bon-bon in the chest. Mort blinked, wondering why his head felt so fuzzy and why he didn't mind Bon-bon's presence. The transvestite giggled and batted his hand away, the agreement temporarily forgotten. Duke was out cold on Donnie who was engaged in a thrilling conversation with Sands about the different government agencies and their virtues. Sam, Axel and Ichabod were keeping score of Spencer and Jack's drinking contest. Jack was winning and Spencer was drooping ever closer to the ground. Jack in truth wasn't far behind, but he's had more practice at such events. Finally, Spencer curled up on the ground in defeat. Jack smiled beatifically before crumbling into a heap himself. Both were quickly asleep. The three score keepers traded glances before joinging the main group by the fire.

"What happens now?" Ichabod asked softly. The subdued group didn't have an answer.

"The game's on an individual basis now, isn't it?" Donnie broke the silence.

"But it's still just a game," Sam said almost forcefully. Several pairs of eyes refused to look at him. "Right?"

Bon-bon slide away from Shmort weakly and folded her hands in her lap. It wasn't just a game.

Varua- Morning

--- Sands woke up early as usual, but with one problem. It had been the headache that had prodded him into wakefulness. He swore under his breath as he tried to knead the pain from his temples. A bleary eye found the path to the ocean and the hung over Sands stumbled towards it. Not one day in his new surroundings and he'd had the place mapped out by memory. It helped for inconvenient situations like hangovers. He didn't bother stripping this time; he lay down in the surf, trying to will the cold water wake him up. He couldn't wait until the rest of the merged tribe woke up. What a barrel of laughs that would be.

"Excuse me, could you deliver a message for me?" a voice asked. There was no hiding his fear this time. Sands leaped up and scrambled farther up the beach.

"Who are you?" he yelled, wishing he had a gun. The feminine voice had been far too close for comfort.

"I say, old chap, don't get your panties in a bunch." A great grey-green blob emerged from the water where Sands' feet had been moments before. It wasn't until the reptilian head surfaced as well that the man began to feel only slightly more at ease.

"You're a turtle," he observed.

"Well done, old bean, your eyes are in top condition. Now, be a dear and deliver a message?"

Sands gaped.

"Tell Captain Jack Sparrow that I delivered his gift to a Mr. Raphael. Also, do tell him I'm disappointed he didn't tell me he was changing locations and that was what had taken so long."

Sands nodded dumbly.

"Thanks, sailor," the turtle winked and disappeared. It took a moment before Sands could get his bearings.

"Did… that turtle just hit on me?" he whispered. He knew he'd been going insane but he didn't need that kind of proof. The plus side was that he no longer seemed to have a headache. Thanks goodness for small miracles.

"Ye wouldn't be thinkin' impure thoughts about me delivery turtle, would ye, mate?"

Sands didn't have the mental stability to face the pirate on the terms he usually did, but he couldn't leave Jack hanging either.

"I can uh… talk to sea turtles," he replied weakly.

"Welcome to th'club, mate," Jack grinned.

--- Survivors were gradually waking up with varying degrees of headaches. Jack had grown used to such pain and was perhaps the most lucid of the group. Mort, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the fact that Shooter was also out and about. Conversation with the writer carried its own brand of pain.

"I think I'm going to check the… mail." Sam winced as a member of Varua groaned at the volume of his voice. This was going to be a hard challenge if the condition of his comrades was an indication. He left before things could get excessively weird.

The moai was still in place and still bearing mail. The only difference was the blue ribbon binding the roll of leather. Sam liked the blue.

A test of strength is all well and good

But a test of the mind is what's in store

This isn't for fun, for pleasure or food

It just keeps the winner's foot in the door.

Ah, immunity. It sounded like another puzzle. It would be ugly for Varua, to be sure, but it would be preferable to a physical challenge. A couple of headaches might have dissipated by then. The tiredness, bad motor skills and dehydration could be another story. Speaking of Varua, Sam had to return or they'd get suspicious if they were capable of rational thought.

--- Bon-bon was cold. She'd woken up alone and in a foreign place and missed the familiar surroundings of DB's bio thread. It had taken awhile for the weight of the situation to hit her like a ton of bricks, and she supposed the alcohol hadn't helped. Not even the 'It was bound to happen sooner or later,' excuse was going to work.

She stole a glance at Mort and sighed, knowing she'd come close to breaking her promise. She wasn't really interested in Mort anymore, but she wouldn't say no id he offered a kindness. She supposed it would always be that way and decided that it was no use living in a fantasy world. When Sam broke through the trees, she sat straight and looked more like the proud Survivor she was. No more of this moping, not for her!

"It's a mental challenge," Sam pointed out. There were stifled groans but Bon-bon held her head high. She'd do well, and that's all there was to it.

--- Sands was gradually accepting his animal magnetism. Sure, it wasn't orthodox, but… what wasn't extremely twisted on this island anyway? The moais were supposed to come alive at night and scare the bejeezus out of people at night and for all he knew, it might have happened. He wouldn't worry until the inanimate objects started talking to him.

"Oh wow… Sands!" a voice cried happily. This one was also female and also invisible. Sands felt his body go numb. It was that tree, wasn't it? The tree… it had fallen in love with him and he'd be expected to reciprocate the feeling. Sands closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his node, willing the scariness away.

"This is not happening, I'm not hallucinating, the tree is not talking to me and it does not know my name," he ground out.

"I'm not a tree, I'm the Artisan of Quirk! And I do know your name! You're Sheldon Jeffrey Sands of the Central Intelligence Agency! I love you!" A girl came from behind the formerly demonic tree, a broad grin on her face. Sands didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It wasn't the tree, but it was a… a fangirl. Just how popular was he?

"They should have named me Don Juan," he murmured. The new girl's smirk didn't fade.

"Do you know how much you rock my toesocks?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"Uh… a lot?" he hazarded a guess.

"Exactly."

"Listen… now's not really a good time. I just got eyed by a turtle and I'm still drunk. I'm not sure about you, but this sure seems like La Vida Loca to me. I can't shoot you and I promise not to do anything rash if perhaps you can bother someone else? What about Spencer?"

"Spencer's still here? Yes! I adore Spencer! And Jack!" she added as an after thought.

"Really, well… I'm sure the'll be happy to see you too," Sands nodded. He had injected as much of his former, non-perturbable self into the act as possible and it seemed to do the trick.

"It was wonderful talking to you and I do so hope we meet again. In fact, I'm counting on it," she winked. "See you in Mexico."

Sands pulled his face into a confident smile and even waved a bit as the Artisan disappeared into the brush. He didn't sigh, but he did allow himself the small pleasure of knowing that he was returning to normal. Good. That'll do just fine.

Varua- Afternoon

--- Mort hadn't caught on that he wasn't quite as alone as he used to be. He knew his head felt full and fuzzy, but he had a few memories of last night, all of which involved drinking. He would have moments where he blacked out for a period of time to jerk into wakefulness. He didn't know that was when Shooter would gain control and use his body. I was too much to consider this early in the morning.

He had breakfast and killed much of the morning chatting with Donnie and Ichabod. The were soon joined by Duke (He finally remembered that he wanted to have a few words with the security system's creator.) and the four of them beat their hangovers into submission with their Billy clubs of pleasantry. Then came Sam, who had their immunity clue in hand, and learned the nature of the challenge.

Soon enough, the tribe was ready to go. Inaga led the way, helping Hahaga gain the feel of the paths to and from the clearing. And today, the clearing had 10 individual stations with the name of a Survivor and a colored box inside. Doth Hahaga and Inaga were mixed evenly throughout the semicircle.

"Varua! Welcome to your first individual immunity challenge and today's is an easy one. It's a trivia game. I will ask everybody the same questions and you will answer through your cube. Each side has a different answer: true, false, a, b, c and d. Your cube determines your answer. If you're right, you move to the next question. Get it wrong, however, and you're done. All right Survivors, easy enough? Let's begin.

"Rapa Nui was discovered on what day? A, Christmas. B, Easter. C, Veteran's Day or D, Thanksgiving?"

Everybody rolled their eyes and turned it to B, save Bon-bon who had the B facing towards her where she could read it.

"The correct answer is B, Easter. Bon-bon, you're out.

"What?" she yelled.

"Your cube says 'False.'"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" She flashed her hot pink cube at the host. The side she showed did say B, but not the way she'd been holding it. A hissy fit late, Bon-bon was sulking on the bench, and the game began again.

"What country does Rapa Nui belong to? A, Bolivia. B, America. C, Peru. D, Chile."

The questions got progressively harder as men dropped like flies. Soon, only Axel and Ichabod were left.

"The largest moai ever made was over 100 feet long. True or false?"

Both took a moment to ponder the question and flipped their cubes accordingly. Ichabod's black cube read 'True,' Axel's sky blue cube read 'False.'

"The answer… is false. The largest moai is only 72 feet tall. Axel wins the first individual immunity!"