Long Walk Home

by Aries Zodiac

Josh is in plane crash in the Qumaran mountains. Now the survivors must get to the border, avoiding both sides of the law in Qumar. Complete!

1. Chapters 1 to 9

Long Walk Home

Aries Zodiac

Favourite saying of the day: 'As I walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil- because I carry a big stick and I'm the meanest muther in this valley!'

People of Arizona, please don't hunt me down and kill me okay? I just picked a random state with mining- it's nothing personal… I'm not American- I really don't know much about Arizona.

The rating is 13+. There is violence and possibly sensitive subjest later on. None of the violence is sexual. Several people juzst have a rather bad day. Nevertheless, if you think it should be higher then tell me. And no, this isn't a shallow attempt to get feedback at all. :)

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Chapter 1

Escaping for a Week

Leaving America-or trying to

"There are few words more glorious then 'long weekend'" declared Josh expansively to an unamused Sam as they walked into the White House one Wednesday morning.

"I know you're only saying that to rub my nose in the fact that I have to work until some ridiculous time Friday evening" he grumbled back. Josh considered this for a moment.

"Yup" he decided. "But if it is any consolation at all, there is still…what- fourteen hours?… between now and my wonderful long weekend in which Leo can suddenly decide that Congress is about to collapse or some other major trauma will happen meaning my long weekend is postponed…"

"Stop saying those words."

"What- long weekend?"

"Yes"

"Can I say holiday?"

"No"

"Hols?

"No"

"L.W.?"

"No- where did you get hols from? You sound like Enid Blyton."

"I'm just saying- you're jealous."

"Yes. I am. Anyway- don't you have some, I don't know- actual work to do?"

"Naah. It's all an elaborately concealed plot to hide the fact that I really don't do any work in this place."

"Josh- here's the rest of your schedule- meeting with Senator Hunt at 8:30 for Welfare Tax, Senior Staff at nine, at eleven there's meetings on the Hill with Congressmen and –women Nancet, Garry, Derry and Grant until half three…"

"Thanks Donna." Josh managed before she could pour even more bad news onto already seriously troubled waters. It wasn't as if he didn't already have enough other stuff to do in his office to keep him in from now until Sunday.

"Y' know, I feel somewhat better now." said Sam with the beginning of a grin on his face as he contemplated Josh's horror.

"Glad one of us does" muttered Josh grumpily as they split up to go to their offices and begin the daily grind.

It was three o'clock, and, so far, no major disasters had struck. Meetings had all gone reasonably well- except for Nancet's but the loss of that particular round had been a foregone conclusion before he'd even gone up. Leo had said as much also but they had to make at least the appearance of trying. Westerners. Rabid Republicans, the lot of them. She had been representing Arizona, who, quite frankly, hated their guts. She'd been trying to get approval for further mining operations near the Colorado River. The operations were costly and unsightly – causing opinion to be seriously divided on them even in their own state. Plus, operations were poisoning the land and creating problems in neighbouring states. Poisons had even leaked into the Colorado River and on into Mexico. The Mexicans were up in arms about the poisoned fish and generally causing a fuss. The Arizonan representatives didn't want to go into costly methods of cleaner mining when they 'feared the resources might be running out' so there'd be no point blah-di-flamin' etcetera-ing blah. Personally, Josh kinda wished that the (landlocked- but what the hell)- state of Arizona could quietly detach itself and just float away out to sea and stop causing him headaches. The same went for Illinois, whose team had just flattened the one on whom he'd last bet on twice. It was getting embarrassing. And New Hampshire, if only to shut the President up on the subject. Josh looked around guiltily. The President had a sort of radar for insults to his home state. And his punishments for this blasphemy were often cruel and, indeed, quite unusual. What had happened to CJ for her comment on Notre Dame being (nearly) a case in point.

Aware that his mind had wandered, Josh forced it back to the subject at hand. But his thoughts kept straying back to the Nancet question. The Arizonan congresspeople had apparently brought up this notion almost religiously for the past thirty years. It always got shouted down, as it was simply too risky and controversial a subject in which to get involved. Approval meant possible losses in neighbouring states as well as more Mexican shouting. They pretty much expected to get turned down anyway so that didn't cause too much of a stir. Except it meant the Arizonan rep. generally seemed to go out of his/her way to be contrary. Bloody-minded, even.

Well, that was that. Nancet was shouted down and frankly, they didn't go far out of their way to court the people of Arizona at voting time. There just wasn't really much point. Sam leaned in the door.

"Hey Josh. How did the Nancet meeting go?"

"On a scale of one to ten? Lousy. But we don't have a choice really, as they well know. They're not even negotiating. It's just, I don't know- traditional? Yeesh!" The exclamation pretty much signified what he felt for the representative of Arizona.

"Yeesh?- That bad? You had lunch yet? I'm just sneaking out for some coffee." Josh glanced at the workload. It was manageable due to some serious hard graft earlier in the day. Yeah- he could afford a short coffee. He looked at his schedule, which Donna had taken to taping to the back of the door, since he'd lost it so often. Yup- grand for half an hour.

"Sure- lunchless so far. Where to?"

In the coffee shop around the corner he leaned back with his steaming coffee and tried to relax.

"How's your workload getting on?" he asked Sam who shrugged. "Okay, even if Toby is driving me nuts with his complaints about my 'mangling of the English language'. 'Do you want the President to collapse from asphyxiation reading that? Try a full stop there somewhere.' " he imitated Toby. "I'll add the punctuation in later!" he whined. Josh laughed and Sam stopped.

"He just doesn't appreciate true genius, Sam" he said with a fairly straight face.

"Tell me about it." Sam muttered into his own coffee.

"Hey Sam, why do we always wander out here for coffee instead of the coffee bar in the White House?" Sam looked shocked at the question.

"Have you tried the coffee in there? Anyway, what's the point of a lunchbreak if you can't leave the office for it?"

"Point. Actually, we'd better be getting back to the load."

"Back to the drudgery of the mines"

"How will you ever survive the next few days in work?"

"Shut up Josh."

"Working, while I'm in sunny Madagascar"

"Did I say 'shut-up' Josh?"

"You did."

"I just wanted to make sure I hadn't imagined it or anything."

"…sun, sea, ouch!"

"Sorry, did you say something? There seems to be a lot of selective deafness going around today."

"Ha ha. And ha" he grumbled as they walked quickly back to work, the twenty minute 'lunch-break' over.

"Hey, Josh, Sam. Josh- Leo wants to see you." said CJ as they walked past her down the hall. Josh's face fell.

"Goodbye Madagascar" he muttered. Sam gave him a moderately sympathetic look.

"It mightn't be too bad, Josh." Josh gave him a disbelieving look, which Sam read and shrugged at. "On the other hand it may be utter disaster and the end of the world as we know it?" he tried.

"Thanks, Sam."

"Any time. Go find Leo"

As it happened, Leo didn't tell him that Congress had keeled over or the President wanted to give a three hour lecture on cabbage or anything else disastrous. He was looking for a report on the meetings mainly and whether it would be in any way possible for them to give Nancet what her state was looking for.

"Not without upsetting New Mexico, Nevada, probably Utah, as they also want mining privileges…"

"Utah don't really have all that much to mine." put in Leo with one eyebrow raised. Josh shrugged.

"…and the Mexicans along the banks of the Colorado. Which aren't that many but…"

"It's the principle of the thing." Leo finished.

"Yeah."

"So you talked her down. She goes away mad and we've lost Arizona yet again."

"I don't think this has much to do with mining-rights at all. They know we're not getting into this so why be bothered? This is as much Nancet herself trying to get Arizona and perhaps Utah against the President so as to get a Republican in next time. It seems a bit transparent- not to mention petty, but…she was one of the main reasons we lost Arizona last time round and she would much prefer not to have any Democrat, let alone this one, in the White House. If she can make us look unreasonable to neighbouring states too, then that's all to her good."

"So even if we did get into this one…"

"She would either make it look like we were backed down or do everything in her power to make the mining unpopular and so, us to blame. Even if it went through, she'd just pull another rabbit out of the hat. I think it's a lose-lose here. This way, well, we keep Nevada and New Mexico. Or at least we don't lose them any more then usual."

"Alright. That's that then. You can go Josh"

Josh skeetered before Leo thought of anything weekend consuming that had to be done NOW! He had made it to the office door when Leo called him back. He looked longingly at the safety of the hall but turned around.. Leo smirked inwardly watching, the hope of the free weekend fade out of his Deputy's eyes. Yeah, so it was cruel. Sue him.

"It's Madagascar tomorrow isn't it? Say hi to Ruth and Miriam for me."

Phew.

"Okay, will do." he replied inching out of the office backwards and nearly crashing into Margaret who was entering the office in a rather more sensible way. He took advantage of Leo's distraction to escape, counting himself lucky.

He worked late despite the fact that the plane was leaving at a ridiculous time in the morning. Though he didn't know it, this habit was one of the reasons this long weekend had materialised at this opportune moment. He would have been cross had he known of the talk between Leo and the President on this very subject a week before in which Leo suggested that Josh was liable to work himself into a nervous breakdown if he wasn't forcibly removed for a few days. He had his reasons: it was approaching the anniversary of the Roslyn shooting and also the thirty- year anniversary of his sister's death and the two year anniversary of his fathers death. There was a reason Josh wasn't fond of May. The work was an escape mechanism, by which he didn't have to think about any of it. All he'd wanted to do was keep his head down and work until this time of year had passed, without taking any more of his life with it. So he hadn't been best pleased when first Leo, and then the President had firmly told him that he would not be allowed in the building between Tuesday night and the next Tuesday morning and why didn't he go visit his mother or something. There had, he had to admit, been a bit of private sulking about this. Did they not think he could do his job? This hadn't lasted long as it was ridiculous; he had gradually come around to the idea and was even looking forward to it. His mother was visiting her niece and nephew-in-law and their family in Madagascar, who, on hearing that her cousin had been granted temporary reprieve from the White House, had immediately invited- ordered, even, to come also. Josh was quite happy about this- he and his cousin Miriam had been best friends as kids and he hadn't seen her and her family in over a year now. So that was that- the flight was booked and leaving… in two hours! Crap.

He wondered could he sneak out without anyone noticing- it was only…eh, four o' clock in the morning…no- his swiper card would register the time. Damn. Both Donna and Leo were going to eat him alive over this. Especially Donna- ("Yep- I'm just finishing up now…leaving in a minute, Donna. You can go."- at ten thirty…um…yesterday night.) Doomed.

He didn't bother sneaking after all but couldn't hold in a wince as one of the night security staff greeted him. That was any hope of a cover blown. He signed out and found his car in the middle of the empty lot. He needed to get to his apartment, pick up his stuff and get to the airport within the hour. He'd left it a bit late.

There was traffic just beginning to creep onto the roads as he drove from his apartment to the airport with the grey light of 'false dawn' just beginning to light the sky. It was a sight he had seen many times since starting this job. More times then actual daylight, he thought wryly. He checked in with a small sigh of relief as he saw the plane was still there, and in fact the queue hadn't even grown that long. He had a backpack rather then a suitcase- he had always found it a more useful carrier- especially as both his cousin and mother had houses that required a bit of finding: his cousin in particular seemed to have trouble with the concept of a having a road that a car could actually drive on without losing it's suspension entirely and throwing three wheels in a fit of pique. Last time he had been there, they had had an ancient car that Rob and Miriam between them had probably built. Whatever the excuse, it had a tendency to collapse and die at the first sign of such major adversities as roads. Or indeed starting. This time, if he was going to be hiking, he'd do it with a bag that he could carry easily.

He watched it roll away on the belt with the sense of foreboding that he always had on these occasions. You really could never tell just when an airline would take a figary and send his luggage to Murmansk. He shook his head as he turned towards the departures lounge and told himself he was reading way too much Douglas Adams.

As he sat there he decided that he might as well check last time for e-mails before he went onto the plane. He wouldn't be able to send from up there. He switched on his laptop and waited, staring out the window and frowning at the black grey clouds that seemed to be lurking in a menacing fashion above him.

"Madagascar- here I come," he muttered. At least he wasn't in for tropical storm season there. He hoped. A light pinged on on his laptop- informing him he had an e-mail; Sam.

Hey Josh

Huh- Madagascar. Mind you it's like a holiday back here now…Or it might be if I didn't have Toby BREATHING DOWN MY NECK GO AWAY TOBY! I'm only pointing out dthjj, NO YOU ARE NOT! MY E-MAIL- THANK YOU!

Good grief- can't even write an e-mail without someone trying to correct me on something. Toby says hi by the way. Well, actually he said a number of moderately uncomplimentary things about you, me, and the world in general, but I think 'hi Josh' was the general gist of it.

CJ's mad about something. No- No-one's set the White House on fire yet but it's only…6.30 AM so there's time yet. Em…nope- nothing going on so I'm now going to stop procrastinating and actually do some work…

Have a good time and say hi to your mom and Miriam for me

Sam

Sam? Procrastinating? The guy didn't know the meaning of the word. Well, actually he did and could probably quote the dictionary on its exact meaning but the point was that Sam seemed to be annoyingly incapable of the act. The whole Toby thing seemed fairly normal though. He wondered what was the matter with CJ before deciding that it was none of his business and he was not going to get involved in work stuff until Tuesday. Anyway, getting in the way of a rampaging CJ was like…um…no- CJ was the simile. Nothing else could really compare to her in full rant.

He started to type a reply but only got a line or two before the intercom started calling for his plane. He quickly typed 'Gotta go- boarding' before hitting 'send' and switching off his laptop in the way not suggested in the manual. He was not missing this plane dammit!

He sat back in his chair as the plane taxied out onto the runway. This just felt strange. He was an ordinary person again- no White House, no pissy senators to worry about or congressmen to tiptoe around- or flatten, depending on the situation. As usual, he tried to guess the exact moment of the plane leaving the ground, a childhood habit that he had never lost -there we go- and the plane was lifting into the sky.

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Chapter 2

Crossing the Triangle

Trauma One

Once the plane was up in the air and he'd stopped staring out at the dawn outside the window (if they hadn't started the ascent through the darkening cloudbank he'd probably just sat there and stared at the tiny jigsaw so far below and the miles of sky at either side until they landed again. As it was, he waited impatiently for the seatbelt- light to go out again. When it did, he looked around furtively out of an automatic guilt- reflex and opened his laptop. Hey- his job didn't stop just because he was out of the country. Farming out stuff was only up to a point. He settled down and became totally absorbed in his work. It was almost an hour later when he looked up realising where he was. He had a fairly broad hint as to where he was when the plane started bucking and wheeling as if it was a little two-seater rather then a large commercial passenger plane. He'd just saved his file a minute before so he didn't bother do it again, once again switching the laptop off directly instead of waiting for shut down. . He felt mildly guilty about this misuse of the little computer but felt the circumstances warranted it. He didn't really want to be responsible for dumping the plane into the Atlantic. The laptop was away by the time the pilots voice came over the 'comm a few seconds later.

"Sorry folks- we've hit a bit of turbulence. Could you please fasten seatbelts and turn off all electronic equipment. Thank- you"

A couple of air-hostesses came out into the main cabin and were immediately assailed by frightened questions from all sides as passengers buckled themselves in and the plane jerked and tossed.

"What's happening?"

"When will it stop?"

"How close to land are we?"

"Are we going to crash!"

Josh glared at the issuer of the last question. Way to cause a panic in a metal tube several thousand feet above lots of ocean. Yeah, perfect timing. Plus- it wasn't as if they were going to say 'Yes, we're going to crash- buckle in and I hope you enjoyed flying with us!' He noticed that he wasn't the only one scowling at the unfortunate panicker, who subsided. Unfortunately the plane didn't subside and, if anything, seemed to be shaking worse. It was, he had to admit; more then a bit scary- as he gripped the armrest hard enough for his knuckles to turn white he could feel his face turning a bit green. Hey- he'd never been great with rollercoasters either- and at least on those you didn't have to worry about the several thousand feet of air below and the thin metal sheet that separated you from it. He could feel the plane banking before beginning to climb above the clouds again. They hit calmer air above the clouds and he relaxed a bit.

"You can let go now you know." said someone from beside him. A young woman was looking at him with some amusement. He followed her look and flushed slightly as he saw his hand was squashing hers onto the armrest between them. He moved his hand from hers as if she had bitten him instead. Then he spotted something and immediately felt better.

"I reckon you could do the same for that guy with the pained expression beside you…" he said with a touch of his normal humour. She noticed where her other hand was and the -indeed pained- expression on the face of the guy on her other side as all the feeling was squashed out of his hand. She moved almost faster then Josh had the first time around and apologised to the guy who was ringing some feeling back into the abused limb. Josh grinned and she scowled at him for a few seconds before laughing. It was this laughter on the deadly silent plane that did the most to restore the former cheerful mode as nervous giggles and talk started to spring up.

The 'comm crackled back on and the pilots voice could be heard again:

"Sorry about that- we should be out of that. If it's any consolation- you just passed through the edge of the Bermuda Triangle- and I have to say that doesn't usually happen." There was a pause as everyone, including the pilot tried to work out exactly how that was comforting. The general consensus seemed to be that actually it really wasn't. A cough came over the 'comm and Josh could almost hear the blush as the pilot tried to move on quickly.

"Anyway, we are just coming in over South America and should be landing in about two hours in Salvador for refuelling. Thank-you." He snapped off the 'comm and the passengers went back to talking amongst themselves as the pilot probably cringed in the cockpit.

"I wonder is there any other way to get back?" asked Josh of the woman next to him. "I think avoiding the Bermuda Triangle next time might be s good thing."

"Depends who you're talking to I guess," she answered. "I've a friend who'd 've given his right arm to have gone through that –loves unexplained phenomena. Actually with the Bermuda Triangle in particular he'd probably have given both arms."

"Oh, come on- he was joking with all that stuff about the Triangle." Josh protested. Then he remembered the pilot's voice. " Well, okay- not joking exactly but –he didn't really believe all that stuff did he?"

"Don't understand it but I don't understand EMC2 either. Just have to trust that the smart people who've studied this stuff do."

"Well, maybe… I'm sorry- with all the excitement I never asked you you're name?" he finished, mildly embarrassed. Or as close to it as he ever got.

"Oh right- Iris Claire Jackson; Claire to everyone except my mother. And yourself?"

"Joshua Lyman. Josh etcetera. Nice to meet you."

"I think we might be having this conversation the wrong way around." she said. "Usually it's the introductions first and the theoretical stuff about Life, the Universe and Everything later."

"Forty-Two. " he answered automatically. "Hey- another Douglas Adams fan? Most of the people I know don't really read that sort of stuff."

"Love it." she answered. "Sci-fi, fantasy- Terry Pratchett, Simon R. Green, Mercedes Lackey, Tolkien all that genre."

"Pratchett, yes, Tolkien definitely but I've never heard of the other two."

"Oh, right yeah- well, I live in England- I guess they'd be more well-known there."

And so the conversation passed onto more benign topics then the deep waters of the Atlantic Ocean and the feeling that Josh couldn't quite shake off of how lucky they were that they weren't part of it.

Sam was having a reasonable enough day except for having been attacked in his office by a rampaging Toby who was on a quest to eliminate all grammar- errors and misuse of syntax everywhere. Unfortunately, he seemed to want to start with Sam, whose penchant for writing without punctuation was well known. It didn't matter that Sam would add it in later; Toby would see the half-finished document and the lack seemed to cause him actual physical pain. So he'd attacked Sams' e-mail until Sam had been forced to threaten him with bodily harm before he'd go away.

It was latish in the day before he noticed the 'e-mail' alert on his computer. Several e-mails, boring, boring what? No he did not want…no, he didn't want that either…and, okay, that's just freaky…Cursing crappy spam-blockers everywhere, he started deleting and nearly missed two from Josh. One was-ah the reply from this morning before the plane. The second was written in a rather more shaken tone he noticed.

Hi Sam

Just landed. Can't write long- we're refuelling here- Salvador. That was not a good trip. It was weird actually- we ran into some turbulence that, well it was like a storm blew up suddenly- the sky went a funnyish greeny, greyish colour and we were shaking around fit to fly apart. The pilot even came on and told us to buckle up and lose any electronics; One guy asks 'are we gonna crash' and, I tell you, the scowling at he got! Everyone was pretty freaked. Anyway- pilot climbed above it and then tells us over the 'comm that we'd just passed over a corner of the Bermuda Triangle! Apparently what happened was really rare- people report it but then vanish- Amelia Earharts plane, I think was supposed to have reported it. Was it her? Well, he sounded kinda panicky too- never had it happen. I don't tend to believe in that sort of stuff but…I get the funny feeling like we were lucky. I don't know. Anyway. Gotta go now. Hopefully not taking that route back!

Josh Madagascar! Whoohoo!

Sam wondered was his leg being well and truly pulled. Bermuda Triangle? Come on. He looked at the time on the e-mail without seeing it until something registered. It should have taken about an hour and a half. Josh's e-mail had 0920 as it's sent time. Three hours. That was…strange. Or…time zones. Yeah, that was it.

He got back to work and tried to ignore the fact that it was in the wrong direction.

Josh was hopping. Incandescent. Infuriated. Really really pissed off in fact. He'd just noticed the time in Salvador.

"It was an hour and a half flight! There's no way it could be 0930! We left at six. It can't have taken us… what!" as a voice spoke from behind him.

"The flight's gone. She doesn't understand you and we did in fact take three hours getting here." Josh allowed himself to be towed away from the desk, away from the baffled (and only semi-comprehending) check in girl and sat down on a bench.

"Well, that's it." he sighed. "Stuck here till tomorrow I guess. Dammit. That takes a day off my weekend."

"Weekend? It's Tuesday." replied Claire with one eyebrow doing the puzzled look.

"Yeah, but it'll take me tomorrow travelling to get to Madagascar and a further day asleep before my holiday even starts- and I'm back to travelling on Sunday so…"

"Point, I guess. But you might be in luck. The airline have gone all apologetic on us for making our flight last twice the time it should have and thus us all missing our flight. We've got another one paid for as it happens."

"Whoa- that's definitely apologetic."

"Yup- once in a lifetime stuff. We get detoured around a bit but- it beats waiting around until tomorrow. The call should be …any…moment…"

"Passengers for the 0830 flight to Mozambique and on to Madagascar- please reconvene at boarding gate 2. Thank-you."

"Nice." They left.

As it turned out they'd been sitting beside boarding Gate 2 so walking away with their luggage hadn't, in retrospect, been the most intelligent idea. They had to hike back, red-faced, with their stuff and arrived last at the gate. The red faces were more with embarrassment then with effort- Josh noted that Claire too was carrying her stuff in a fitted rucksack. Looking at the piles of suitcases that some people had he felt a little bit smug about it as people anxiously counted suitcases and went cross-eyed trying to remember how many they'd started out with. Glancing at Claire, he saw the cat- got-the-cream smug smile lurking at the corners of her mouth too.

Their plane was to fly across the Atlantic to Africa and seemingly stop in pretty much every country, before making a special flight across the Madagascar Channel to land in Antananarivo.

"The Bermuda Triangle phenomenon." some guy was saying knowledgeably. Josh recognised him as the panicker from the plane.

"Why- what do you reckon caused us to take twice as long as we should have in getting here?" he asked, slightly sceptically.

"No-one knows." he answered mysteriously. "Nobody really understands just why it is that planes go missing in this sector of the Atlantic. Or why ships tend to sink there. They say that there's a secret governmental organisation…" Josh tuned out.

"…so they take them for…who knows." Josh snapped back to what the guy was waffling on about. He blinked and glanced around at the other people in the little group. Most of them were staring at Conspiracy-man as if he had two heads, but after the frankly weird things that had happened okay, yes, over the Bermuda Triangle, there were some people who looked about ready to accept it all.

"Okay, hang on 'Agent Mulder'" he broke in with his usual tact. "Are you saying that aliens are kidnapping, sorry, abducting, anyone who goes into the Bermuda Triangle! I…bu…" he sputtered the last waving his hands in front of him as he tried to get out the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. The spell broke and some people giggled nervously, shaken out of the moment. Sensing the loss of his audience, Conspiracy- Man looked at Josh with dislike. "My name is Hamilton Reid- Dr. Hamilton Reid. And yes, that is one possibility of many. Only there are always closed-minded people such as yourself who will never accept the truth. I am used to them." He turned and made to stalk off, before realising that he needed to be here if he wanted to catch his flight. He had to content himself with stalking to the other side of the group, with one or two awkward shuffles and hops as he got over luggage or around people. As a grand exit it left rather a lot to be desired.

"That was a bit cruel, wasn't it?" asked Claire with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised. He inhaled giving himself time to turn around and face her before he tried to justify himself.

"Weren't you listening to him? Half the people were on the verge of buying Spock ears. And he was doing the whole 'government conspiracy' line, which I for one am frankly sick of. Er…three, he was the one to nearly cause a panic when we were still in the air with his 'we're all gonna die' line. Plus, he's a crank."

She shook her head. "And you were doing so well until that last line."

"Well, he is!"

"Point."

"Reid, Hamilton Reid…" he mimicked under his breath in a James Bond accent. "What are the bets he actually practised that whole delivery, just for an occasion like this?"

She laughed. "Pretty high. Talk about attention seeker!"

"Oh, I know him. The little pixies on his shoulder tell him most of his stuff. Especially after a couple of drinks." put in a big burly man standing nearby, who had watched the whole exchange with unabashed interest. "I'm Gerry Anderson, by the way- good to meet you."

"Josh Lyman." replied Josh, shaking the proffered hand and nearly losing his bag, which he'd only loosely slung over one shoulder, rather negating the use of a rucksack in the first place.

"Claire Jackson."

"So what did you think of that whole experience? I mean, did you see the colour of the air around us. And I mean air- it wasn't even as if it was the clouds." He shuddered. "Tell you- I'm going back by sea next time. Via Greenland if I have to. Not goin' in there again!"

"It was weird but there's probably some natural explanation for it…" started Claire but was interrupted by the airport 'comm telling them that their flight was ready for boarding.

"And on to Madagascar- I hope!" said Gerry with a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, what could possibly go wrong…" muttered Josh as they boarded.

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Chapter 3

African Mountains

He noted with a twinge of disappointment that Claires' assigned seat was right over the other side of the plane. It was Gerry and Conspiracy –Man that he ended up sitting beside. He groaned inwardly as Reid took his seat, but kept his face in a pleasant or at least neutral expression, nodding to him as he sat. Reid glared at him, obviously not having forgiven the 'Mulder' crack and conspicuously proceeded to ignore him. Josh shrugged mentally and decided that having not slept for …um…lots…of hours, now might be a good time for catnapping. At least he had the window to lean against, falling asleep on complete strangers was just embarrassing.

"Hey- um…Josh, is it?"

"Uh…" he woke up to find himself being poked in the side with a rolled up newspaper by Gerry, leaning across Reid who was also asleep.

"Yeah?" he blinked sleepily. What time was it?

"We're stopped in Benguelo in Angola for refuelling. If you want to get off and stretch your legs or whatever, this is your last chance. I'm going for coffee if you want some."

"Oh, right thanks. Yeah- may as well come. Do you reckon we should tell him?" he nodded at Reid who gave a gentle snore.

"Nah- he looks comfortable. Plus, I think he still wants to kill you."

"Yeah."

In the small café they managed to fight through the crowds of other cross travellers and emerged, slightly bruised, but with coffee, at the other side. There was nowhere to sit.

"Hey! Josh! Gerry!" waving from a table with three or four others at it, clinging tenaciously to their space was Claire. They negotiated their way over without scalding too many people with the sloshing coffee and even managed to scrounge some chairs. Claire introduced them to Daniel Terris, Geraldine Raymond and two others whose names Josh didn't quite catch.

"It's a madhouse in here. I'm actually looking forward to the plane again!" joked Gerry. He was right- it was crazed.

"Last call …flight..472 to…. and Mada…car" wheezed the intercom over the hoardes of travellers to a general groan.

"Looks like you get your wish!"

"That didn't take long."

" glug Argh!"

"Coffee's hot, by the way."

" gasp Thank you, Claire."

"Any time, Josh."

So they climbed back on board with Josh still grumbling and occasionally whimpering at the pain in his mouth. As in the West Wing in a situation like this he was roundly ignored.

Conspiracy-Man was awake when they got back and looking a bit sheepish. When Josh sat down he turned to him.

"Look, I'm sorry about all that earlier. What I said to you was…well, it was childish at best. You have your opinion and I respect that. Just don't make fun of mine, okay."

Josh nodded, feeling mildly abashed himself. "Yeah, look, sorry- I was way out of line with the whole 'Mulder' thing. But, well, I work in the White House- and I can tell you that there really isn't a governmental conspiracy to conceal the presence of aliens. We really don't have any aliens."

"Josh Lyman- if course, I didn't recognise you! You got shot last year at Roslyn, didn't you? You're the Deputy Chief of Staff!" exclaimed Gerry. Josh winced- this wasn't a time that he really wanted to think about. The list of things he people thought of first was also weird. His job was about more then just getting shot!

"Yeah." he answered shortly. Gerry seemed to get the message as he reddened a bit.

"Sorry, yeah. I can see why…yeah." he muttered. Josh felt a bit embarrassed for the second time in that many minutes.

"It's just not something I tend to, you know…"

"Yeah- I can see why, Sorry."

Silence fell again until Reid, funnily enough, struck up some conversation on a safer topic and the next while passed quietly enough.

Josh woke up suddenly. He didn't remember falling asleep but something had caused him to wake up with his ears pricked back as if he'd heard someone talking about him. Then again, it could just be the fault of the damn aeroplane seats. Reid and Gerry were both asleep but even as he sat up to glance out the window they were waking up. There was a second of silence before the moment that nightmares are made of happened for real.

A load crashing sound and the plane veered wildly. A terrible ripping sound outside the window- the sound of metal tearing. Josh- from his vantagepoint of a window seat, stared in horror as the wing outside wafted wildly, sheared almost completely off and hanging by a twisted lump of metal. They all ducked or flinched automatically, as the crashing of the wing against the body of the plane was heard and then the wing was whipped off entirely by the force. The plane went completely wild as the wind flipped it over several times and passengers screamed. Josh was strapped in, as were most others by the look of it. Those who weren't were actually held in place by the force of the swinging. There was a tiny stub of wing left although Josh didn't know about it, as he sat with his eyes squeezed shut, trying to stop them popping out with the G-forces. He gripped the edges of the seat and prayed before blacking out completely.

Unaware of what was unfolding about a thousand feet above African mountains, the staff of the West Wing were going about their normal business. It was a relatively calm day. As in, relative to all-out trench warfare, a classroom full of six-year olds or a Zeigler family reunion, it was calm. Toby was flinging the rubber ball against the partitioning window with his usual angst. After a few minutes Sam walked in.

"I'm trying not to lose my thread here."

"You have a thread?"

"Not any more."

"Okay. I don't think we should have this here." He indicated a chunk of the speech. Sam read it.

"And as for this- 'we work together as one nation under the sun'. It's its…I can't describe it! For one thing it's thieved straight from…somewhere I can't remember just off the top of my head. Who wrote this?"

"Alright, I'll change it. I think of was one of those committees again. Was there something else?"

"Yes, no…" He paused, staring into space. "…no, that's it."

"Right…" Sam turned to leave, paused as if to ask something but decided against it. He left. After a couple of seconds there was a bang on the window. He let his head thud off the laptop keyboard, creating an interesting string of unpronouncibility that would have taxed even the presidents speech-making capacity, but probably enlivened the occasion no end. He turned to look through the window where Toby was looking mildly sheepish. He shook his head to him and Sam tried to get back to work. He nearly jumped out of his skin as the rubber ball thudded the window again a few minutes later. He didn't bother looking through the window again, knowing that Toby had probably not even noticed he'd done it. He calmly walked into Toby's office, over to the desk, picked up the offending object and walked out again. Toby didn't even notice, engrossed in tearing out his hair over some poor suckers' misuse of the language and rank plagiarism. He had a pile of notes on his desk to rival Tobys to get through, and he kept losing his train of thought. And everyone was so tense today.

Donna was running around like a headless chicken, only with purpose. She had still about a thousand and one things to do today. A lot of the stuff had been farmed out for Josh's leave of absence but that didn't mean that the place wasn't humming. She didn't begrudge him the precious week- she'd been the one to talk to Leo- although Josh would kill her if he ever found out, so she was making damn sure he never got wind of it. She'd noticed the rather worrying trend in his working hours as well. But even so she was glad he'd brought his laptop with him- she knew he had! The absolutely unmissable stuff would just have to be e-mailed to Madagascar. In the meantime there was two pissy senators and one Cabinet minister that were infuriated by something or other. They'd been redirected to Josh's office as usual. In the absence of anyone higher, all three wanted well, a couple of things but his resignation seemed to be a common factor. On general principles. And in Josh's absence, their ire was being directed towards Donna. Oh freakin' joy. She sorted two of them, but the third was far too far up his…anyway. She had to call in the big guns to get rid of him. In the end Leo had to shout at him until he went away.

"You know, if this is what the Deputy COS does, I'm glad as hell I ain't him." he told her dryly after Cosgrave stalked out.

"Oh, there's been worse." she assured him. "He usually manages to get rid of them without too much trouble, but…"

"If they're all like that then I'm just surprised we don't have more interhouse feuds. He's hardly the most patient guy around. And that guy was just annoying."

"We do, sometimes but Josh sorts them before they get any bigger." she shrugged. "Sorry- I have to…" she waved back toward the bullpen. Leo nodded and went back to his own office, being very thankful that someone had thought up the office of Deputy Chief Of Staff and being even more thankful that it was Josh Lyman in it instead of for instance, himself. Or, he grinned at the thought, Toby. Now that would be briefly entertaining. Before someone tried to blow them up or something.

Charlie was sorting the latest 'important' messages to the President. They needed sorting. Everything from…actually important message from the Chairman to…a South American passenger plane going off radar somewhere in Africa. Now what had that got to do with the President? Anyway, he sorted it into various piles of importance and redirected the less urgent stuff.

The passengers of that small plane might have been impressed with how fast news of their plight had reached the desk of the President and mildly insulted at being ranked with the less-important stuff if they hadn't far greater stuff to worry about. And the current incapacity to worry about anything. The plane was actually being very well controlled, considering the circumstances. The pilot had been one of the top pilots of his day- even if that day had been twenty years ago. He used his tail and the stub left to compensate as much as possible. Which wasn't to say that they weren't losing altitude at a terrifying rate and looking to crash nose-first into a mountain in the middle of nowhere. It was just possible that they'd do it slightly slower then they'd otherwise have done. Again, this mightn't have been much consolation to the passengers. However, most of them had lost consciousness through the swooping and the G-forces. The few that hadn't had generally been hit with bits of unsecured aeroplane. So the body of the plane was eerily quiet as they spun downwards with a slow, almost majestic grace. And hit the ground.

Josh was jolted back to reality a second before the plane hit although wasn't entirely sure of what was doing on. He had a brief glimpse of the ground beneath and enough time to think 'Oh shit' in the four languages he knew it in before being flung back into blackness as the plane plowed into a, luckily deep, snowdrift.

The snowdrift couldn't save everyone though. At the last few moments the pilot had lost the plane completely and the weight of the wing pulled that side down, causing the plane to land on that side, snapping the wing like a piece of brittle plastic, and landing on its side. The right side was crushed like a so much paper. The people there hadn't really stood a chance. They'd probably never even known as they hit the ground.

The dead silence hung in the air for a while as dazed and barely conscious people hung sideways in their straps, trying to figure out what happened. Josh tried to get upright, found he couldn't and in a certain amount of confused panic struggled with the straps. He hit the release and fell the few feet to the new ground, narrowly missing a ragged chunk of metal spiking upwards through a seat. He didn't notice it where he was on the seat-back which had been shaken loose. There wasn't enough room to stand even if he could have convinced his legs to let him. Moans and shaky crying filled the crumpled wreckage. Above him, Gerry was hanging in the straps with his hands waving down.

"Gerry? Come on, Gerry wake up. Let's get you out of there." For a horrible second he thought that maybe Gerry was dead after all and that the crash had knocked a screw loose, making him think that there were other survivors when actually he was the only one left. A strangled sounding moan from above shook the morbid nonsense out of his head as he babbled relieved rubbish at the dazed man above.

"Oh, thank God, you're ali…We crashed…Oh God, we crashed…I think there's people dead and…"

"Josh, Josh, calm down. Just…get me down and we'll go find others, okay? You calm?" Josh nodded, pulling himself back from the edge of hysteria as he concentrated on the task in front of him.

"Hang on Gerry- Reid's got farther to fall- unstrap him and pass him down first. Is he injured? Are you injured!" he realised he hadn't asked.

"No, I'm…bruised, but okay. Reid…" He checked him over. "…he's alive anyway but I reckon he's cracked his head off've something- his heads got a nasty gash on it. But I'll pass him down to you." He leaned over and scrabbled for the unseen buckle, releasing it pretty much by accident. He caught Reid as he rolled with the force of gravity.

"Here- grab his feet, would ya! You got him? Good, 'cos I kinda have let go now…" He let go with a gasp and Josh staggered as the full weight of the seeming boneless scientist caught him by surprise. He managed to get him to the ground without any mishap other then banging his own head off ...what had probably been part of the floor until ten minutes ago.

"Ow…okay- he's okay. You ready? Hang on to the armrest would you. No offence, but you're kinda bigger then Reid and I nearly dropped him."

Gerry unhooked himself and swung himself down using the armrest. He nearly made it too.

"Oof, argh! Bloody hell…"

"Oh jeez, sorry Reid…"

The moment of levity was broken by cries from further down the plane. Further up- there were no sounds. In silence, they picked themselves up and alternately walked and crawled down the wreckage to help the other passengers.

They found a way out- or rather another passenger…no, survivor, did. Survivor…it was a strange word. There were no passengers now. There was nothing to be a passenger of, Josh mused briefly before turning his mind back to the work at hand. They went in and out of that nightmare plane more times then Josh wanted to count. As they freed able-bodied people, they joined in, in grim silence as they pulled out more people- injured, dazed, traumatised people. They left them out in the snow in the care of the less injured people and went back in. Josh, Reid, Gerry, Claire Jackson, a red-headed girl of about twenty or twenty two, a tall bald man, a small woman whose eyes glistened with tears but whose hands remained steady as she cut people loose. They'd found some tools and others were makeshift.

There were about ten of them who were the main rescue teams. A few people recognised Josh as D COS and for some reason were looking to him for what to do. In absence of anything better to do he set them to rescuing luggage from the luggage carried in the underbelly of the plane. They'd need supplies and shelter and resources to survive. Shelter was especially important for the night. Everything else could wait. Others were looking after the injured. The ten or so most able-bodied went back to the grim task of finding survivors. Not all those could even fit inside the crumpled shell anymore so a chain effect was ongoing, passing out the injured or unconscious from one to the other, hoping they weren't aggravating injuries. They rescued the living people first, acutely aware that there were many who hadn't made it. But, as in politics, the living had to be first priority. By nightfall of the first night they'd rescued all they knew they could help. Others had set up two makeshift shelters, using bits of plane and covering the tops with snow to insulate them. Luggage would be what people would be sleeping on- further warmth and insulation. They were set up a little distance from the plane- it had meant dragging the metal sheets for the shelters further but no-one wanted to be too near it. They'd even gotten a fire going- how, Josh had no idea. He didn't really want to know.

They sat around the fire- sixteen able-bodied or mildly injured people. There were another four that were more seriously so. So, twenty.

"So does anyone have any idea where we are?" he broke the silence with a sigh.

"Erm…I think so- from the amount of time in the air and you know, speed- I think we're slap bang in the middle of the Qumaran mountains." The tall rake-thin man said the last bit fast as if that would make it any less troubling to hear.

"I can't remember why but I have a strange feeling that that's a bad thing." someone said slowly after a short pause.

"It is." Reid was talking again. Josh just hoped aliens weren't going to come into it. He really didn't have the patience to deal with it if they did.

"The American Government had a Qumaran President- Nmala, at the White House- bout a year ago. While he was there, there was a coup in the capital. The capital city was taken and his family, some died and some American ops smuggled out of the country- supposedly anyway. Nmala was offered political asylum but returned to his own country anyway. He was shot in the airport carpark and the new bunch took over. Three months later another bunch took over and so on until three months ago the Qumar New Republic Party took over and did the usual execute members of the old government thing and many fled to the mountains or into surrounding countries- Zimbabwe for instance. Which then signed a deportation treaty with the new government and so…"

"…There's going to be random hordes of American-hating ex-government types hanging around." finished Claire from her position on the opposite side of the fire. Silence fell for a few seconds as this sank in.

"What is the position of the new government on Americans?" asked someone. Reid shrugged. "Josh? This is your forte isn't it?" He turned to the rest. "This is Josh Lyman- the Deputy Chief of Staff." Mutters ran around the fire.

"So it's your fault that the rebels don't like us is it?" asked someone, only half-joking. Josh decided he'd better step in.

"First, President Nmala came to us for America's help. What happened in his country was a cowardly attack by people who, can I point out, didn't like America much in the first place. One important thing about this bunch is that they're proud and intensely xenophobic- that was one of the main reasons they wanted the President out- he went to outsiders for help. As for the New Republic liking America- not particularly so, no, but more then the previous three-month government. On the whole, they'd prefer if we merely didn't exist as opposed to actively wanting to wipe us out."

"So what do we do?" The question was asked generally, but, though Josh didn't notice at the time, everyone looked at him.

"We could on the one hand stay put," he thought out loud. "Someone must have seen the plane go down- maybe help is on the way now. On the other hand- we don't know which side saw it. The rebels might also be on their way now. In which case, I think we'll be in trouble. They don't like outsiders."

"Oh, come on- what could they possibly do to us?" scoffed someone.

"I don't know- why did we crash?" asked the tall thin man. "Dr. Walton Bremner. Theoretical Physicists. I was on loan to the army and, well, picked some things up. I was sitting at a window seat and it looked…well, I think we were shot down."

If the silence had been troubled after Claire's summing up earlier, well, it was deathly now. Claire hit the ground. "Of course!" This earned her some glances.

"I'm sorry- I must have hit my head harder then I thought. He's right- that is exactly what happened to us. Which side shot us though? That's what I want to know."

"Would the rebels have that kind of weaponry though?" asked Josh rhetorically. "On the other hand, I don't think the New Republic would risk Americas wrath in shooting down a passenger plane."

"Yeah, but it wasn't an American passenger plane, was it? It was South American, which isn't really the same thing. They couldn't know there would be mainly North Americans aboard. Sorry- Lucy Dannel"

"Still doesn't make sense." he frowned. "No, I reckon it's a group of the ex-leader party- the rebels in the mountains. Trying to create trouble between America and Qumaran Government. Perhaps even cause intervention- then they can come out of the woodwork. Sound any way likely to you?" He looked around at the rest of the group. To his surprise they were nodding thoughtfully. He looked up- the sky was darkening rapidly. Nightfall would come soon and they would need to be rested for…whatever decision they came to.

"Listen- this is up to everybody, but I think we should move these shelters to someplace better hidden and covered. We don't know if we're going to get any visitors during the night. I don't think we want to be caught unprepared." Again- there seemed to be general agreement. Josh blinked. This was strange- usually there would be a few people shouting different opinions, or trying to assert control. Maybe they were just all too tired and traumatised. So was he, if it came to that. He definitely didn't want to be the leader here. They decided to move the shelters over behind some rocks and cover them with snow- that would provide insulation as well as protection.

"Should we get rid of the fire?" asked Claire as they finished the task.

"What do you think?" he asked her seriously. "It's gonna get colder."

She nodded.

"Yeah, but it's a living beacon –a come and get me sign. Plus, what's it really gonna do when we've moved our shelters waaay over there?" She pointed.

"Good point. Okay- will you get rid of the fire and hide the evidence?" He managed to turn it into a question at the last minute. He wasn't in the White House and this was not a member of his staff. They had no reason to listen to him. She grinned, surprising him.

"I think you've been elected group leader. That'll teach you to take charge in an emergency!" she slipped away towards the fire and confused a couple of people by dumping snow on the fire. At the upraised voices he went over and supported Claire as she explained the situation. Two of the people- one of the women from the airport in Salvador and another Josh didn't recognise, accepted it immediately and helped Claire and Josh hide the traces. The other- a man called…Hamilton? Tony Hamilton? scowled at him and slunk off. Josh looked after him mildly worried, but not really bothered by his attitude and went to help with the moving of the two iron-sheet shelters.

As night fell, everyone, especially the four badly injured were wearing as many layers as they could get on. Most of the luggage had been rescued and it was a sad fact that in the cases of two thirds of it, the owners would never need the clothes inside again. In silence, the ones who had lost their clothes or for one reason or another, didn't have many, took the unfamiliar clothing and put them on. They looked like round balls by the time they were fully 'dressed' and were still only marginally warm.

"Look, I think we should have some sort of watch system" Claire suggested. "We don't know what's out there- even in the case of wildlife. Plus everyone should be woken up every hour or so to get the circulation running in their bodies again. People who sleep too long don't wake up in this cold." Gerry nodded seriously in agreement.

"She's right. How about three sets of two hours- one person per tent, so there two on watch at all times. And a one hour watch in the morning."

"Sounds good. I'll volunteer for first watch for this tent." said Josh. Nods and sounds of agreement rattled around the suddenly icy air. There was a fairly even split between men and women- sixteen men and fourteen women so that was how the 'tents' had been split. It wasn't going to be comfortable- hardly! in the tents but they needed to sleep in groups for warmth. Claire volunteered for first watch too, with Gerry and a pretty woman called Marian for second and the tall scientist Bremner with a young Chinese girl- Lisa Yen for last watch. They'd also have the arguably dangerous task of waking people up every hour or so, so they could make sure they weren't getting frostbite.

Josh and Claire talked quietly for the first hour, as the murmuring and uncomfortable tossing and embarrassed mutters of strangers forced into intimate living quarters died away.

"So what do you think we're going to have to do?" asked Josh.

"What I've thought from the beginning." she replied. "Walk out of here."

"Easy to say." he replied. "But in which direction? How are we going to find shelter and food? And bring the injured? And what are we going to do about the dead?"

"I don't know."

---

Chapter 4

Where is Josh?

The President looked through the urgent pile of messages and sorted them further into things that needed looking at and signed one or two others. Nothing amazingly out of the ordinary. Finding a free moment he decided to wander out and annoy Charlie. He was getting quite good at it with the poor guy antsy of exams but far too polite and respectful to let irritation show. Actually, he was more at the resigned stage. He could suggest Charlie study the early postal system or something. Hmm. He snorted to himself with a bit of amusement- he was getting malevolent in his old- middle! middle age, he corrected himself. He decided to give Charlie some peace and do some more work. So the message about the plane didn't get to him.

"CJ!" Charlie walked into her office where she was snowed in under a small mountain of paperwork.

"Danny, if that's you with another…I swear, there will be trouble!" she said before glancing up.

"Oh, hi Charlie. What's up?" He put the message about the plane on her desk.

"This is probably more your department then ours- although why it's even here I don't know. There's not much info." CJ read the fax. It stated baldly that a small South American passenger plane had gone off radar somewhere in Africa. She opened her mouth to ask how had the White House gotten this so fast but shook her head and decided not to bother.

"Okay, thanks Charlie- I'll get one of the staff to follow it up- see if there's any Americans on board.

"Okay, thanks CJ." He paused at the door. "So what was Danny bringing in?" he asked inquisitively. She laughed a bit.

"Just don't even get me started."

"Leo? Leo. finally! It's like trying to get into Fort Knox by telephone trying to contact you without an appointment!"

"Ruth, hi" he answered her warmly. Noah and Ruth had been some of his closest friends for years.

"Good to talk to you again Leo- are you looking after yourself while saving the rest of the world? And speaking of looking after, did you recall my boy's free time in the last twenty four hours?" Leo sat up.

"What do you mean, Ruth? Josh isn't here."

"He's not? Well, he's not here either- he should have arrived a while ago. He didn't ring at all. Did he miss the flight?"

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised, but I don't think so- he's not here. Give me half an hour, I'll find out something for you. How long should he have been in?"

"Six hours ago"

Leo had tried to contact the airline but was having trouble. They had lost contact with a flight from an airfield outside Salvador to Mozambique. He was on hold. Again. If it wasn't that it was for Ruth he'd have given up by now. Mozambique? No- that wouldn't have anything to do with Josh. It'd probably just thrown everything out of whack.

"…'allo? 'Allo?" This seemed to be the limit of this persons English as a steady stream of Spanish followed the greeting. He sighed. It had been a long time since his days of learning Spanish.

"Hello- hello Hola! OY!" he coughed, embarrassed at the loss of temper. Hold musak will do that to you. He paused for a second, trying to think of someone- anyone who spoke Spanish fluently…Sam! He managed to convince the person on the other end to hang on for a second by liberal use of the names of pretty much everyone he knew that was in any way well- known. This was a respectable- sized list. He paged Sam to get up to his office ASAP. Two minutes later Sam arrived looking as if he had run the whole way. This wasn't surprising.

"Spanish. Try find out what happened to Josh's plane. PT0- 341. Should've landed in Antananarivo almost six hours ago. How much longer is it delayed for?" Sam took the phone with a frown of mild confusion. This was fairly close to his normal expression though so Leo ignored it.

"Hola- hola senor. Que…." Leo didn't bother try to keep up with the rapid babble of Spanish- Sam would explain when he was finished.

Clunk

Leo looked up in surprise at the noise. Sam had dropped the phone. His face had turned a pale greeny- white colour and his mouth was open slightly, although no words were coming out. Leo picked up the phone as if the incomprehensible person on the other end would help him. The dead line buzzed in his ear.

"Sam? What did he say?" he asked. Mozambique? Oh God- it couldn't be…

"Due to problems flying to Salvador- they missed the connecting flight. They got on a plane that would stop in a couple of places." Sam spoke woodenly, the colour still leached out of his face. "They lost contact with it nearly seven hours ago. They think it crashed in the mountains." He looked at Leo, at the horror mirrored there. "They think they crashed somewhere in the Qumaran mountains."

"Do they know?" he asked Sam, dazed by the news and unsure what to ask first. And what he didn't want to hear. Sam looked at him and nodded.

"They're pretty sure, Leo. Whatever happened, it was sudden. They said they're still analysing data from before the plane went down. They wouldn't have even told me that if not for where I was calling from. And that you'd been on…oh, oh God…" as it struck him. In all probability, all the passengers aboard that plane were…no! He was not going to be the first person to say that!

"…people report it but then vanish…" he muttered, the words from Josh's strange e-mail popping unbidden into his head. Leo didn't really hear it for a second but something about it registered even with the shock shouting the news into his numbed brain.

"What?" he frowned.

"That's why they were late- they flew over the edge of…" he snorted with something less then mirth. "..the Bermuda Triangle would you believe. Something weird happened- Josh e-mailed me with what happened- I wouldn't have believed him except…except it was over an hour and a half later then it should have been. He said he felt they'd been lucky. That people report this stuff then vanish. I think he meant actually over the Triangle though. Ridiculous isn't it?" His voice was getting more and more high pitched as the sentence babbled to a close.

"Sit down, Sam." said Leo as kindly as he could through his own horror at the events. Could that be it? Could that be the end after surviving so much? He survived getting shot and twelve hour surgery. He'd survived PTSD- coped, recovered, even. He'd survived the death of his father and his sister. And now, because they'd wanted to stop him working himself sick with 'May- depression'- he was dead? In a damn plane crash!

With a sudden shout of fury he thumped the desk hard enough that he had to rub his hand as he tried to get some feeling back into it. Sam jumped as if it had been a gunshot rather then a hand striking wood. For a second he'd been jolted back to the last time they'd been in this situation.

The phone pealed out suddenly. They both jumped that time and stared at the insistently ringing handset. To Leo it seemed louder then usual. It would be the airport again. They'd know what happened. He motioned to Sam to take it. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't being cowardly. He didn't understand Spanish. But deep inside he knew he wasn't able to hear this news from the man in another country.

"Yes. Oh G… yes. But you don't know yet? And, I'm sorry- I need to know- could you just check again? Please- Josh Lyman- just, just make sure if he was on the flight…" There was a pause as both men prayed that the first piece of information had been a mistake. That Josh was still stranded at the airport. Leo saw the hope fade out of the young speech-writer's eyes and he turned away.

"Leo? Leo- they're saying the plane was shot down over Qumaran airspace- probably by the rebels in the mountains. And…" he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next, difficult words. "…and, Josh was definitely onboard."

They knew that they would have to do something in a second but…for now, this second, both men just sat for a second in silence, lost in their own thoughts and realising that a son, a brother, was almost certainly dead.

The President would have to be told. As usual he had at least a hundred and one urgent things to do, but for the sake of five damn minutes the world wouldn't end. This was more important right now. Leo entered the Oval Office alone with Sam waiting outside, still in a state of white-faced shock. Mrs. Landingham knew that something bad had happened but knew that, whatever it was, the President would have to be told first. She gave Sam a cup of tea, good for shock and gradually the white tinge left his face and the lost, vacant look left his eyes- no, didn't leave- was pushed down to a place where it could be controlled or at least hidden for a while. Until it sunk in.

Inside the room, Leo walked over to the desk where the President sat. He looked up- "Leo- did you know that each hair on a polar bear is actually translucent. It seems…" he stopped, looking closely at the man in front of him. Leo seemed to have aged ten years in the last few hours. "Leo?" he asked.

"Jed, Josh's plane went down in the Qumaran mountains about six hours ago. They think everyone onboard is dead. We found out now."

"…" The President didn't know how to react. He was… dead? He closed his mouth again as the information filtered in.

"Do they know?" he echoed Leo's earlier question weakly. Leo shook his head.

"They can't contact the plane and they want to negotiate with the Qumaran Government for a…retrieval operation. I don't know yet how the Qumarans are taking this, but I bet not well. They might have difficulties getting in. And the mountains are even worse, possibly. They're pretty much the heartland of the rebel camps- The Xhundi's, the Dhumarans, the…government from before that." He shook his head. "It's a gang-warfare state up there. The only thing those people have in common is their hatred of Americans."

"And if we get involved? " Leo shook his head again.

"We can't- not yet. Us getting into it will just make the Qumarans drag their heels even further. We could jeopardise any hope of the South Americans negotiating their way in." The President nodded tiredly. Dammit! He knew Leo was right but…it didn't make it any easier. One of his family was out there and he, for all his power couldn't help now. It certainly didn't make it any better to think that there was a good chance that Josh and all the people with him were beyond any earthly help.

---

Chapter 5

A Dangerous Mission

Back in the cold Qumaran night somewhere on a mountain, the third watch had just started when the action really began. Lights could be seen coming towards the site of the crash. Lisa Yen and Bremner glanced at each other through the murk and wondered should they wake the group.

"Get Josh- he seems to know what's going on- and that guy that was going on about the governments as well, maybe." whispered Lisa. "I don't think we should advertise our presence more then necessary." Bremner nodded and slipped back into the 'tent', tripping over whatshisname that had taken second watch before nearly standing on Josh who had finally managed to drop off.

"Sst! Hey? Oy? Josh!" At the slightly encouraging moan from the three-quarters asleep politician he told him the situation.

"We need to see what they do first- we can't risk talking to them yet- they're more then likely anti- American rebel nuts." he whispered urgently, suddenly wide- awake.

"We got that" he answered dryly. Lisa Yen's keeping an eye out. I was gonna get whatshisname, Reid? That guy who seemed to know what was going on earlier?"

Josh winced, what if Reid went into hysterics again as he had on the plane? He pointed him out to Bremner. Reid would be fine.

"Can you get him? I'm kinda…stuck." As Bremner picked his way through the sleeping bodies Josh concentrated on extricating himself from the mass of people. He dragged himself out of the makeshift shelter and into the snow 'entrance'. It was well hidden- from the outside it would look like a lump of snow under a tree on the edge of the snow-covered forest. The tracks had been covered over as much as possible and a fresh snowfall had sorted the rest out. Hopes of not waking up the others were foiled as shouts echoed across the mountain. The plane had been discovered. What would be their reaction? That was the all- important question. But it had started snowing again and the thick flakes were obscuring even the lights of the newcomers.

"What's going on? asked Claire, sneaking up behind Josh and Lisa so quietly that Josh nearly jumped out of his skin when she spoke. He whispered the situation as Reid and Bremner joined them, five white faces peering into the encompassing whiteness.

"We need to find out what's happening down there," said Claire, firmly. "I'm going down- I'll keep hidden." The others looked at her, with about twenty diffent objections already being formulated.

"It's too dangerous- you'll be caught." said Reid, getting in there first. She shook her head.

"I've training for this situation- these sort of situations." she amended. "Plus I do have a smattering of the lingo- which is more then the rest of you have, yes? Finally, my top layer is rather less conspicuous then yours." she added looking rather pointedly at Josh and Reid in particular, both of whom had something fluorescent on. Reid's was orange. Josh scowled.

"Even so- how are you going to get back? Once you move away from here, you won't be able to see two feet in front of you. And we're hidden, don't forget." Now it was Claire's turn to frown, but Lisa came to her rescue-.

"The rope- we rescued four lengths of, must be about fifty feet each of emergency line from the plane. Tie 'em together, one end around you- follow it in."

"Fine." Josh knew himself beaten. "But you still shouldn't go out there alone. I'm coming too." But it seemed he wasn't even to have the luxury of this win as Claire shook her head firmly.

"No- I'm trained for this and you wouldn't be able to do anything anyway- you won't understand what they are saying." She tied one end of the scrounged rope around her waist and passed the other end to Josh who took it reluctantly.

"Good luck- ten minutes, then language or no damn language, I'm coming after you." he grumbled.

She grinned suddenly. "My hero." and disappeared into the floating white.

Josh sat and fumed worriedly for the next seven minutes. Bremner and Lisa had gone back into their respective tents to calm the ones who had woken up and stress the need for silence. He wanted to get up and move around- even a bit of non- productive pacing would be helpful at this point. The rope had long ago wound out to its fullest extent and he was gripping the end tightly. Reid was waiting quietly with him. At exactly ten minutes, Josh handed the rope end silently to Reid who took it even more reluctantly then Josh had the first time around.

It was cold. He had taken off the fluorescent overcoat and was feeling his way along the rope, hand over hand into the freezing, disorientating darkness. He was about halfway along it's length and wading through a snowdrift that came nearly to his waist when the world suddenly filled with noise and a huge flash of orange light illuminated the world around him. It reflected off the snow on the ground and in the air blinding him for a second and confusing him. He dropped to the ground by instinct knowing his silhouette had probably been illuminated across the skyline and hoping the swirling snowflakes had hidden him. He was under the snow line now and pulled himself through by the rope. His hand touched something that was neither tree nor snow. This was further proved as it spun around at the touch and punched him hard enough that lights flashed before his eyes. He looked up, dazed, from the ground. Claire was looking back at him, rubbing her knuckles and looking mainly embarrassed at her mistake but with a hint of humour lurking in her eyes when she saw he was alright. He sat up, glad for the cover of the treeline and rubbing his chin. She hoisted him up and they peered up the slope at where the plane had been in the snowdrift unsurrounded by trees. It was easy to find.

"Oh God…" whispered Josh. The wreckage was burning fiercely. They'd blown it up. Why? It answered their questions as to whether they should hope for rescue from these people. Definitely not. There were about twenty of them, and they moved like soldiers. More then a match for thirty traumatised unarmed unaware civilians in various state of injury. The patrol spread out, looking for evidence of survivors. They didn't penetrate far into the treeline, looking around with what seemed to be almost superstitious caution. A pair passed within three feet of where Josh and Claire were hiding, the firelight glinting off rifles carried at the ready. Luckily they passed on the other side of the tree to where the rope trailed out- a perfect indicator as to the position of the camp. They looked at each other with horror- their lifeline was about to bee anything but to the twenty-eight other people hiding in the steel shelters. Josh and Claire took a good grip on the rope and together tugged it sharply at ground level. It snapped taut at about half a foot from the ground and though the tug lost some it's force as it travelled back, it was enough to pull it from frozen hands at the other end. Reid made a grab at it as it flew into the murk but another sharp tug whisked it out of his reach. He made to follow it but Lisa grabbed his shoulder.

"Listen!" she hissed. Confused, he paused. "I don't think they've been captured- there's no noise. They did that- they must have had a reason. Give them time." His mouth worked furiously, but there was irrefutable sense in her argument. He didn't have a response. They sat down in the entrance of the steel-and-snow cave and waited, as the orange-red glow shone down from above like a reverse form of hell.

They didn't have long to wait. With the glow acting as a signal light, they were able to navigate back through the swirling snow and the thick falling flakes masked the evidence of their passage They moved in silence until they reached the makeshift cave before falling inside to a confused reception.

"They're moving on- they'll start searching these woods at daylight. I couldn't catch why, but they're…scared, maybe? of these woods. I don't know why, and I'm worried about that. These guys are trained soldiers." Low murmurs of fear from the tent suggested to Claire that she might have made a tactical error. Josh jumped in with a politician's instinct and calmed them down, taking over the report.

"We have to start moving out of here before dawn. They will find us otherwise." There was no point glossing over this- they had to know what was going on. "You heard the explosion, most of you. I t think you know what it was…" he trailed off as a wave of grief swept through the tents. Or tent now, they'd removed the partition affair that separated the 'sides', making the two tents into one, for this late-night conference. It now formed an extra door and was proving rather more useful in this regard. One or two people made disapproving mutters about this but were hushed by weary people who realised the far more pressing issues. Like this news. It was only perhaps now that it really sunk in. People- their own people had died back there and now there wasn't even hope of bringing their bodies back to America for proper burial. Luckily perhaps, for the most part, the majority of the survivors hadn't known the others on the flight. But one or two had lost friends, family. And this was only sinking in now.

"What do we do?" asked someone shakily. Several people were crying quietly. Others were staring into space. A few were trying to be practical. It was one of the latter that asked the question. None of them could answer it though. Again, Claire noticed with detached interest, everyone looked at Josh. He was the one who had taken over and gotten a herd of confused victims into some sort of order- got them fending for themselves. And now they'd elected him leader. Bummer for him. Not that he'd noticed yet.

"I think we're going to have to try walking out of…" he blinked suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "Does anyone here have a laptop, phones, anything? Two way radios?" There was a long pause as everyone suddenly looked extremely sheepish. There were no laptops or two- way radios, the former all having met their demise and the latter not having been there in the first place. Three phones out of the thirty of them had survived. One of them had died of lack of battery and it's owner scowled at it.

"Traitor." she muttered at it before flinging it into a bag with disgust. The other two were out-of-range of anything.

"Okay- could you switch them off until we get closer to civilisation, maybe. Save the battery."

"Keep one on." suggested someone. "Save the other. Then we can check it periodically." Gerry switched off his phone and Lucy Dannels kept hers on.

"Anyway- what were you saying?" asked someone. Josh started again.

"I think we're going to have try walk out of here. Those people will be searching this area thoroughly by tomorrow-we can't be caught. The plane is a beacon now- we could have the place as warming with people tomorrow and I can guarantee none of them will be friendly. I think that the soldier that blew up the plane were of the Xhundi party, what, three governments ago. They were the original, xenophobic racist bastards that murdered President Nmala." Here a taint of bitterness coated his words. Nmala had been a good man and a true leader of his country. He had put it ahead of his pride and ultimately his life.

"What other groups are likely to arrive with American- kebabs on the menu?" asked someone dryly from the back of the cave.

"The Dhumaarans, the New Republicans, the…oh, what were they called- the really militaristic one, between the Xhundis and the Dhumaaran governments?

" The Peoples Code under Femi Goetz" answered Reid.

"Yeah, that one. They were pretty much wiped out during the Dhumaaran takeover- probably won't be too prolific. now, for obvious reasons we don't have any info on what these people are like around each other- are they the squabbling groups of malcontents practising gang-warfare in the mountains? Or have they organised themselves into something useful? We don't know. So we're pretty much going to have to avoid everyone. A large group of people, some injured, in the snow, in unfamiliar territory, with random hoards of squabbling rebels on any side. So, yes, it's not going to be easy. But it might be doable. We just need directions."

"That's my forte." a tall shape spoke up in the gloom. Bremner, was it? "As near as I can ell, given the circumstances, we're about three hundred kilometres from the Zimbabwe border. It's across mountains, heading southwards. That's our best bet, I think."

"Three hundred…" someone hissed. It was followed by an angry voice.

"We're supposed to walk three hundred kilometres through ice and mountains in unfamilier territory with wounded? Are you crazy? And anyway, we only have your word on these guys. Whose to say they won't help us? Maybe we should just go out there and ask for help." A few murmurs of agreement followed this statement. Josh felt uncertain. What if the others were right and they were wrong?

"Claire? You heard what they were talking about. Did they say anything that might suggest that they'd help us?" She shook her head, her face serious.

"From what I could hear, no, there will be no help for us there. I think it was a mistake that they shot us down- and now they're covering the evidence. We are evidence too. If they find us, we won't be getting out of here," she looked the dissenter in the eye "They will kill you." He subsided angrily as the others in the tent muttered again.

"If anyone does want to risk it- and I can't blame you if you do no-one can stop you. It's entirely your choice. But before dawn tomorrow, I'm heading out of here before this camp gets discovered. Anyone who wants to come, can." Well, that was it, thought Josh. They knew the score- it was entirely up to them. The faces looked uncertain in the gloom.

"I'm walking out too." said Claire firmly. Bremner, Reid and Lisa Yen added their support. This coalition did much to swing the undecided until it was just a small group of five- three men and two women who were sitting mutinous. Josh shrugged inwardly, and wished them luck. They'd need it. He suddenly realised that they could see each others faces much more clearly then before. The snowstorm had lessened and dawn was breaking through the trees. His eyes widened as he realised the danger.

"We have to go now," he said quickly. "They will come this way- and we're not that well hidden. We can only take essentials- any supplies, wear as much of your clothes as possible. Anything else we need?" Claire took over the task of making sure that everyone had what was most needed while Josh and one or two others started the task of dismantling camp.

Getting away from the camp took some work- they couldn't leave footprints while the snow had stopped. They used the large metal sheets on the snow- walking over them one by one to prevent them sinking into the snow too much. Then they swept the marks away. They did this for several hundred anxious feet until they were well into the forest. Here the snow was almost ice and tracks easily missable. They walked quickly and didn't talk much. Josh noticed that they still had thirty- the opposition had decided to come along for the ride too. They showed their displeasure by scowling and otherwise ignoring Josh, Claire and Reid in particular. Lisa and Bremner were not top of the Christmas-card list either. Eight, or nine of them, Josh, Claire and Bremner included, were taking turns helping the injured. They were a worry. One broken leg, well bound up. Painful but not life-threatening. The man, Terry Warren, was moving along with the aid of a person and a stick. One probable concussion and fractured ribs. The concussion had pretty much gone away overnight although she hadn't been allowed sleep with it. The ribs were obviously causing her a lot of pain. They'd been bound as well, but she really shouldn't be moving with them. Not that there was much choice. Two broken arm, split evenly between the remaining two, one followed up by a gash on the head that meant she was still a bit out of it- she'd been unconscious most of the night with her worried friend staying with her. And the other serious casualty had what was probably a fractured hip. After a few hundred yards of stopping and starting, it became obvious that, even with the helpers, it wasn't going to work. Claire looked back at where they'd buried the sheets with a bit of argument and looked at Reid. They went back and grabbed the two sheets and were back with the group which had paused for another minute, quickly. Josh was fretting although doing a reasonable job of hiding it. But he knew that at this speed they were going to be caught easily. He saw the other two approaching and realised what they were up to.

With the four injured carried on jerry-rigged stretchers, they moved a lot faster. After three hours of the fast pace, they had made a reasonable distance, with Walton Bremner consulting his keychain compass and saying directions when they veered off course. West, northwest was the direction they should be going.

"How far have we walked?" groaned someone after it seemed they'd walked forever in the thin icy air.

"'Bout ten kilometres." answered Bremner cheerfully. Everyone stared at him in despair.

"What? That's a good distance in these conditions.

"Three hundred kilometres…" whispered someone again.

---

Chapter 6

What do we do now?

Calls had to be made. The first was of course to Josh's mother in Madagascar. Leo took that one. The President wanted it to be him- felt it his duty even, but Leo told him not this time. The call was hard- as he knew it would be.

"Have they confirmed it?" asked Ruth faintly on the other side. No, not her son too. Not her last child…

"No- there is, maybe a chance. I'm sorry, Ruth- I don't want to give you false hope… The South American government is talking to the Qumaran government now. I…I don't have any other information, Ruth, I'm sorry." He found the words sticking in his throat. This was by far the hardest thing- out of all the jobs of the White House, he couldn't think of any other thing that ad affected him as much as saying those cruel words to a friend and a grieving mother. He prayed that he was wrong- that her son was alive but as a man who knew the situation in Qumar and the anti- American prejudice of the rebels, he knew that even had Josh and the others survived the crash itself their chances of getting out of that place alive were slim.

"I'm coming back to America- to Washington- I need to know, I…I need to be there when…" she trailed off as her voice shook too much to finish the sentence.

"I know, Ruth. And if you need a place to stay, Miriam too if she wants to come, you know you can stay in my house." His own voice was getting thicker too as the weeping on the other side brought home to him what had happened.

The president called Donna, CJ and Toby into his office. He had talked to Sam who was sitting down on one of the couches with his head in his hands, staring at nothing.

As they entered, CJ and Toby were bantering as usual. When they saw Sam, they stopped knowing by his face that something terrible had happened. The President looked at the confused, worried faces as the smiles and laughter vanished. He knew that once he told them the news it would be a long while before that laughter reappeared.

"Mr. President!" Leo came in quickly, before the President had chance even to get the words out.

"Is it news about the plane?"

"Yes, sir. Here." He handed the President a slip of paper with the message on it.

'Qumaran Government reports finding remains of plane. Burned out. Bodies not accounted for but believes all dead.'

He sat down, his legs giving up on him entirely. He laid the piece of paper down on the desk with hands shaking slightly He closed his eyes for a second trying to get himself under control. He looked at the worried staff and began to tell what had happened.

"Please, sit down." he started, and paused, unsure of how to go on. He glanced at Sam who still hadn't said anything since the news had been broken to the President. CJ, nothing if not shrewd looked at Sam too.

"It's Josh, isn't it" she asked quietly. The President nodded mutely.

"I'm sorry, Josh's plane was shot down over Qumaran territory. The plane has been found just now." he glanced at the note. "It was burnt out. There are no survivors."

There was silence. Donna had gone pale and her hand had flown to her mouth. Just like when they broke the news to her in a hospital waiting room a year ago two days away. Was it really a year ago? CJ mused. Then it hit her.

"Dead?" she whispered, sitting down on the couch limply, and beginning to try to comfort Donna who was sitting staring straight ahead, eerily reminiscent of Sam only with tears beginning to fall unnoticed. Toby stood there for a second as his mind too flashed back to seeing blood pouring out through his fingers as he tried frantically to stop the flow. He brushed his hands together trying reflexively to get rid of the now invisible blood. He turned without speaking and left the Office. The President watched him go without saying anything. There was nothing left to say.

It was the fourth night out in the mountains of Qumar and they had walked roughly a hundred kilometres, which, considering conditions and the carrying of the wounded was no mean feat. It was freezing- never above about five degrees in the daytime, despite the watery sun that could be glimpsed through the trees. At night it could drop to minus fifteen or twenty. According to Bremner they had been very lucky so far. Shelter was what they made it. One night they'd been fortunate enough to find a cave into which they crowded and survived the night. That had been the second night- the coldest so far. That had been the easy bit. Josh didn't want to think about how they were going to cope with whatever came next. They were doing well but it was tiring both physically and emotionally. And divisions were beginning to spring up. Josh decided to just keep walking and think about it later. He realised he was walking in step with Claire again. It was funny how often that happened without either noticing.

"Fancy seeing you here" she greeted him ironically when she saw him. He spared the energy for a grin at the small joke. There wasn't much to joke about.

"Hey, I never asked you. That night, when the patrol came, at the plane and you went back. You said that you were trained for this. And before you were acting like you should have realised that we'd been shot down. What are you, back in the real world?" Her lips twisted slightly.

"You know, I was kind of hoping you wouldn't pick up on that." she said rather cryptically. "I'm British air force. Staying with a cousin in Washington and was going to Madagascar for a week. Some vacation" she added with a sigh.

"Ah. Yeah that's kind of what I figured." He paused again as they trudged through a misleadingly deep snowdrift. "So why were you hoping I wouldn't notice?"

She shrugged and then opened the top layer of the jacket. A handgun nestled in the inside pocket. "I don't know. I know your history with guns- you're radically against them. I don't know, I guess I was worried you'd… I don't know." Josh was staring t her and only pulled himself back together in time to avoid a tree.

"First of all," he managed, "I'm not even going to ask how you got a gun aboard a commercial flight. I really don't think I want to know. But also, I have no problem with trained people in the armed forces having guns. They have them for a reason. It's necessary. Plus they know the consequences of shooting a person." he added quietly. "It's …stupid kids who get themselves in over their heads. They weren't born like that. Some twisted fanatics got their hands on them, filled their heads with hate, put a gun in their hands and said 'go clean the world up'. It's scared parents who buy a gun to protect their families, not knowing that one day their own child will find it and not know what it is. Almost 75 these guns fired hit a family member, not an intruder." He stopped, mildly embarrassed at going on. "Sorry- but that's my position on guns. Keep them for the people that need them."

"Outlaw guns and only outlaws will l have guns." she quoted the Republican position. Josh shrugged again.

"That's the difficult part of it." he admitted. They walked in silence for a while longer.

"Come on, lets take over from Tim and Georgina on the stretchers for a while." said Claire, peeling off from where they were, near the front of the line of people.

"So, you know about this area?" he asked when they had transferred the stretchers and worked them around the blisters.

"A bit. I was on peacekeeping duties here- U.N. Back when the major revolution took place- Dhumaraan to Peoples Code. Ended six months ago. From here on for about sixty k, we 're deep into Xhundi territory. They really don't like us. We need to avoid villages, settlements. Can't have fires if possible once we get to the Guyana Valley. There to the Jameston pass is dangerous." Josh frowned. That was really bad news.

"Claire, you know the food situation. We're just about out. I was depending on us being able to trade. The handy thing aboput this place is their willingness to accept Madagascan currency for some weird reason. Well, no, I do know why. Their own is so debased that it's almost worthless. Anything with real value is acceptable." Claire wasfrowning thoughtfully.

"Bear in mind that this info is six months old. I don't know how stale it is. But when we were here, several villages welcomed us. They fed us when we were nearly in trouble after a supplies cock- up. Maybe they'll trade. The nearest is, as far as I can tell, about five k that way." She nodded her head roughly west.

"I think we're going to have to try it. It's getting worrying. I'm surprised the supplies lasted as long as they did, to tell you the truth. Even with that bit of luck with the cattle herd two days ago."

"Yeah. You don't feel a bit bad about nicking some guys cow do you?" he glanced at him sideways.

"Nah. He had lots. And anyway, we were getting on for starving by that point. All this walking is hungry- making. Come on- I think we could do with a rest stop while we explain the situation and get suggestions."

"And while we still can."

It was decided that Claire, Reid, Tony Hamilton, Kitty Fenning, Dermot Hayes and one of Tony's fellow troublemakers, Jesse Henry, should try trade. They volunteered for it and it was agreed by the rest. It was a long time between cows. Josh noticed with satisfaction that the core group of troublemakers had been broken up and noted sourly that there was even politics here. They probably wouldn't give Claire any trouble- they agreed with her mission. And Claire, Reid, and Hayes in particular supported him so far. He shook his head. He really hadn't wanted to be the leader and would have been perfectly happy if just letting Hamilton or one of the other take over and quit giving him headaches. Except he was certain that giving themselves in to the Qumaran Government was a bad idea and that was Hamilton's main notion. So he was currently stuck with it.

"We're about here" she placed a scrounged button on the ground. "The first village is about here, and the second… here." Only Josh noticed the inherent 'I hope' in her words. He'd used it himself often enough over the last few days. She poked a finger into the crisp snow to the left of the button. "It's easy enough ground, we shouldn't be that long. Now if you just keep going in this direction for about nine and a half kilometres we should meet you. It's at the base of Mt Tooiie- the mountain shaped like a bears head- you'll know it when you see it. There's good shelter there."

"Why don't we all just go to the village for the night?" asked someone. Claire looked at him.

"Because we don't know if they are the same as they were six months ago. They might be pro-Xhundi by now. We are on the edges of Xhundi land after all. That's why a small group is going."

There wasn't much to say to that. The small group set off at almost right angles to the main group and disappeared into the trees. Josh's group continued in silence.

They reached the second village at around mid- afternoon. They were tired, sore, their feet were blistered with the walking in permanently damp boots. They were hungry- and they were different. This was enough to have the first people who saw them –children, playing at the edge of the village- to run away shrieking. Women peered out of huts and bigger mud or stone houses suspiciously. There were no men, Claire noticed. She hoped someone would remember her. This was one of the bigger villages of the region and had welcomed them when her patrol had passed through here seven months ago. They stopped on the border and Claire stepped forward.

"Jambo?" she tried Swahili first. It was one of the common languages that many people throughout Africa knew. Most people in Africa, no matter how small the village or even if they have no other schooling, know two or three languages- the local language, particular to the small area and one or two regional languages. Swahili was one of the main ones. A large woman stepped forward bravely and came to the edge of the village, standing beside the wall of the nearest house. This put her at a distance of maybe ten feet away. She looked at them suspiciously.

"Hello lady of this village" she tried in Swahili. Then she peered at the woman again. "Elisabeth? Elisabeth Tsana? Is that you?"

"Claire?" she answered excitedly. She turned around and spoke quickly to the villagers behind her, some of whom looked angry, but most crowded forward and when Claire ventured forward at Elisabeth's invitation they crowded around her chattering excitedly.

"Why are they so happy to see you?" asked Jesse confused.

"When we came here on peacekeeping, they were getting regularly raided by another town, closer to the Dhumaraan heart. So they couldn't defend themselves- if they did and hurt one of the raiders, they would invite the wrath of the government down on themselves. Our presence ah, dissuaded, them and apparently they haven't been back since." She turned back to Elisabeth.

"Elisabeth, where are the men? Nyagi, everyone?" Elisabeth looked sad and glanced momentarily towards the children that were now confused as their mothers ran to embrace the strange- looking people.

"Come, stay in our houses. I will tell you what has happened here since you helped us."

"No, no! They cannot stay here!" snapped a woman at the back of the crowd, a sharp- nosed, unpleasant looking woman. Several others agreed with her. Elisabeth rounded on them and spoke a stream of what sounded even to Claire practised ears, gibberish. It was enough to make the woman subside however and Elisabeth waved them with her imperiously. The group followed her into her house followed by many neighbours, friends and random nosy people. Elisabeth didn't seem to mind. A persons house should be open to ones friends is the African way. Claire took advantage of them settling to explain what had been said so far.

"After you left, those pariahs did not seek to feed themselves from our labour for a while. But they caused trouble for us with the Government. Two months ago, the Polizia came and took our men away at gunpoint. We fear it is to the mines and we will not see them again. We do not know to where though, or which mines. And our own children need to be brought up in the meantime, without their fathers."

"I'm sorry, Elisabeth. I never thought…We didn't know…When we get back to our own people we will get word of this to the UN, to the world. They will help you."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. We do not rely on outside help." she replied pragmatically.

"Yes, but if this is partly our fault, from our interference, then they must intervene!" She sighed. "I'm sorry, perhaps we should not have come here seven months ago- or today. I don't want to bring further trouble down on you."

"No! You saved us from war, I think. If you had not solved it peacefully- our men were losing patience. It would have become bloodshed and then our town would have been wiped out. You could not know that this would happen. You are always welcome here." She looked around at the small group of so far silent villagers. Some nodded agreement, some voiced it. One or two looked uncertain.

"Now, what are you doing back in this sad country?" she asked Claire, taking in their weary state. Claire told what had happened to date, pausing every so often to relay what was happening to the patient English- speakers.

"So we were hoping to trade with you for supplies. We have money- Mozambique money mainly and American dollars." At this, the people looked suddenly happier. This money, though technically illegal was much safer then the corrupt base- metal product that their own had become. They would be quite willing to trade for this.

"And where is the rest of your people?" asked Claire. Claire explained that they had gone on and would meet them later. On hearing that there were twenty of them they looked rather lees happy. Claire hurried to assure them that they were only trading on behalf of ten of them- they had also gone to another town in the hopes of buying food there.

"Then I think we can help you." she smiled to the younger woman.

Before they left Claire found Elisabeth again.

"I just have to ask, Elisabeth, but why? I know it is the hungry season soon. And no matter what you say it is partly our fault what happened to your men. You would have had every right to send us away. Why did you help us?" Elisabeth looked into the distance for a second, up the mountain where, somewhere near the peak, the remains of a small South American plane lay.

"Because I like you." she answered with not a ghost of a smile. "And because we were supporters of that great man President Nmala. And when those…dirt, captured this country, you tried to offer him protection- America. Because, when our land was wracked by civil war- neighbour against neighbour, sister against brother, an alliance of nations protected the innocent people, and tried to stop the fighting. And because a small party of people from that same alliance helped a minor village in the mountains when the food was being stolen from their children. That is why we helped you."

"Thank you Elisabeth." she whispered. They hugged each other on the edge of the village as sundown approached. They'd been invited to stay the night but theuy knew they had to find the rest of the party. They turned away from the friendly village and Claire doubted she would see those brave people and that good friend again. All she could do was vow to get word of the predicament to the UN and hope- hope they could help them. Somehow she would make them help Elisabeths people.

It was night, or nearly so when they got back to the base of Toohie, laughing for the fist time in a long while. Only Hamilton was looking his usual discontented self.

"Come on- there's where we're heading," nodded Claire towards a mountain in the near distance. She knew they didn't want to be wandering around after dark- and night doesn't seem to come in increments in Africa as it does in most other places. the sun sinks deceptively fast and it will suddenly be pitch- dark.

"Wow- it really does look like a bears head!" exclaimed Kitty, almost dropping her bundle as she craned her head to take it all in.

"You were here before- is there any folktales as to why it's like that?" asked Hayes, who had a fascination with legends and mythology. He was studying for his doctorate in Archeology.

"Yeah, the local legend is that the first bear was born in Africa but left to travel and populated the world with his kind. When he was very old he came home to Africa to die. He travelled the countries and finally arrived here in Qumar. At that time there was a small village of people- the First People who were being attacked every night by a party of vicious wildcats. The bear befriended the people and went out to fight his mortal enemies- the cats. He defeated several and killed them. Many others, when they saw the battle go against them, were routed. Finally, the great bear came up against the chief wildcat. The battle between the two raged for days- up the mountain and into the depths of the valleys and through the lakes which were like puddles to them in their fury," Claire was getting a bit carried away in her joy of telling the ancient story. The others listened enthralled. Anything to keep their minds off their situations.

"Finally the bear won through, threw down the wildcat and bit through its neck. The blood ran down the mountain and created the Red Falls on the other side of this range. But the bear had also been badly injured and crawled up the mountain, where he had first been created. He became the mountain and that's his head in front of us." she nodded to the looming mountain.

"Good yarn." approved someone. "But what of the Red Falls? They're real then?"

"Of, yes, I've been there. Iron in the rock I think. Gives the water a rusty tinge. But I like the original explanation." The other laughed a bit and agreed.

"Hello, the cave!" called Claire cheerfully, as they came up to the main one.

"Success?" cried Lisa Yen happily as they approached. It was not really necessary as they were laden down with packages.

"Success!" they shouted back. Lisa's head popped back into the cave as she relayed the news. A few seconds most of the cave poured out to welcome them back, relieve them of their packages and everyone talked together, often at cross- purposes.

They decided to light a fire that night as from any distance, it would look like it came from one of the villages that littered the huge valley. With proper food being cooked, a night in a place without the cursed snow and warmth made everyone cheerful and it was the first good evening since the plane crash had changed their lives.

"So what's the story in the villages," asked Josh, interested. " Obviously they remembered you."

"Not good, I'm afraid." She relayed for the campfire the story Elisabeth had told her.

"It wasn't yeer fault." put in Marian, Josh thought, squinting through the flames to see.

"Yeah, I know but…" she shrugged.

"Hey- put the fire out!" the person on watch suddenly ran up to the fire. Georgina kept her eyes covered so as not to lose her precious night-vision. Herself and Bremner had taken first watch from a vantage point higher up the mountain.

Josh jumped up and stated finding things to smother the flames with, spreading the glowing embers about. The other joined him and soon they were standing in darkness.

"What's happening?" asked Josh as the happy campfire atmosphere was dispelled. "Come on- we'd better get into the caves if someone's coming." This made sense and they were soon settled into the thankfully dry cave.

"Party of soldiers- hard to tell which bunch- have made camp not a kilometre off. Bout ten of them. But they're armed obviously and could deal with us."

"We can't outrun them," said Josh without glancing at the injured. They already had tried to be left behind once, guilty at holding the party up.

Georgina shook her head. "I'll go back up- one of us will bring back word of any movement."

"Yeah- we'll come up and relieve you in about half an hour. It's me and, Jessi Owens, isn't it? On second watch?" Jessi nodded without looking at him. She was one of Hamiltons bunch and he sighed at the thought of being stuck with her for two hours. Oh, he'd survive. Wasn't like it was a social function.

After the promised half- hour they hiked up to the rock in silence. Georgina and Bremner looked both relieved and somewhere between embarrassed and guilty. Josh had a sneaking suspicion that the enemy camp hadn't been the only thing they'd been watching! He said as much, wryly, to Jessi once they'd settled in to watch and saw the first crack of a smile on the normally dour face. She was much prettier when she smiled, he noted absently before reminding himself that he couldn't exactly become a culprit of what he'd just been deriding! Anyway, as long as it didn't interfere with their watching, he was glad for them. It would be good if something good came out of all of this.

Down at the campfire, one by one three people muttered excuses or simply slipped out unnoticed.

It was half an hour into the watch and nothing was happening in the enemy camp below. Josh had positively identified them as ex- Peoples Code- the small dangerously fanatical party that had massacred the Xhundis before having the same meted out to them by the Dhumaraans. He'd hoped out of all of them, they wouldn't see any of this lot. There weren't many of the them- the Dhumaraan coup had seen to that! But they were perhaps the most dangerous, intensely xenophobic and hating America in particular.

Jessi had slipped back into the shadows on hearing a noise. He caught faint whispers behind him, near the tiny path. Already time for the next watch he wondered absently. Well, the camp seemed to be well- established for the night and he turned as a flicker of movement behind him caught the edge of his eye. He instinctively knew what was behind him wasn't good. Hamilton, Jesse Johnson, Jessi Owens were in a semicircle behind him.

"I'm sorry, Josh, but your way will get us all killed. We need you, but not as a leader." Hearing a noise behind him he cursed himself for not remembering the last member of the party. Not that it would have helped as something collided with the back of his head, sending him spinning into darkness. Again.

---

Chapter 7

Josh In Trouble

The West Wing was particularly subdued. The announcement had been made to the Press about the plane. The names of the dead had been released. So close to the first anniversary of Roslyn this made big news. Josh Lyman was dead again, only this time, probably permanently. One or two of the trashier tabloids had picked up the story with huge relish and made what were almost libellous hints as to what might have made the plane crash. Such as someone, under great stress finally snapping. Quite a lot of people, both from the White House (unofficially of course) and even members of the general public went and had private talks with some of the more enthusiastic reporters. The words 'sue' 'disrespect' 'libel' and 'ignorance' cropped up fairly frequently. This coupled with almost national derision and the very public scorn of the other papers soon quashed these remarks. Despite his incredible knack for pissing people off, Josh was a well-liked and well-respected member of the White House staff. After the Roslyn shooting and his brush with death as a result of wounds 'in the line of duty' as several of the papers put it, the public had taken him to their hearts and he was still one of the more well-known members. There had been floral tributes arriving at the White House all day. Out side more were collecting for all the people in the crash. A list of the names had been put up by someone, attached to the railings and this was the centre of the huge outpouring of grief. There had been almost three hundred Americans on that flight. Underneath the names it said:

Three hundred families have lost a family member today- a father, mother, sister, brother, a child. We pray for them and keep them in our thoughts.

It was now surrounded by almost a thousand tributes. Out of all the thousands of tragedies every day in America and throughout the world, this one had caught the hearts of the public.

Three days had passed. Seven people were clearing out an apartment of a friend. Ruth, Miriam, CJ, Sam, Toby Leo, and Charlie though the latter two had to keep running back to the White House. They still came back when he could. CJ, Sam and Toby had been given the day off. Sam had been given several days over his strong objections.

"Hey, remember this?" asked CJ, opening a photo album. One photo had caught her attention in particular. It was a barbeque at her own house. The others crowded around. It had been taken at the celebrations after President Bartlett had been elected. It had been taken fairly well into the evening. She couldn't remember who had taken the photo, but CJ, Josh, Sam and Toby were half draped across each other like a eight- legged, four headed monster. All four heads were laughing as they tried to work out who was holding who up.

"Yeah- Leo took the photo and then everyone fell over." Toby half smiled at the memory. "CJ landed on me. That hurt by the way."

"Blame Josh for that one- he squashed me!" There was a pause.

"You know, I was waiting for Josh to blame me for pushing him." said Sam with a self- mocking twist of the lips. CJ hugged him.

"Yeah, me too." She sat down on the couch.

"When Josh came to where I worked to recruit me. I'd told him to tell me if he was the real thing- this almost unknown candidate. I said I'd know if he was 'cos he's got the worst poker face. He came back during a rainstorm, forgot the name of my firm, again. Finally found it. He came up and stood outside the glass door during a top- execs meeting and jumped up and down until I noticed." He laughed. "Really confused the others. Turned around and there's this drownded guy with the water pouring off him onto the carpet and the biggest, goofiest grin on his face. Real thing…" He trailed off. Charlie took it up.

"He introduced me to Zoey. When she was cooking chilli- do you remember that?"

"Yeah- that was when he gave back the card. The NSC card- did you know about that?" At the others puzzled looks she told the story of the NSC card and how he'd given it back because it was the 'white flag of surrender'. Could have kicked his ass for that one if I'd known at the time…" she added reflectively.

"I definitely would have! He gave it back? That was a very…Josh…thing to do though." added Toby with a frown.

"Remember the secret plan to fight inflation?" At Miriams puzzled look, CJ told the story. It provoked a laugh even from Ruth. She took the album from CJ and flicked through it. Most of them were stories of triumphs, celebrations, joyful occasions. They talked about those times. They didn't talk about the bad times. Last May. Or last Christmas. Another photo album had older pictures in them. A loose photo fell out. It showed a family. A couple, hugging each other. A laughing girl of ten or eleven was holding onto a younger boy of six or seven. Ruth let a shaking finger trace the smiling, joyful faces. A daughter, a husband and a son. Could they all really be gone? Her face twisted and the tears, never far away, began to fall again. Miriam looked at the photo as well and held her sobbing aunt, with the tears leaking silently down her own face. The Staffers retreated respectfully, not wanting to intrude on private grief.

"Sam- you've been one of our family for twenty- five years. Come here." she managed to say. That was all Sam needed to break the stone face that had prevented him mourning his friend, his brother, properly. The three of them stood together and let the tears fall.

In the other room, CJ, Donna, Charlie and Toby sat together. Donna was close to tears again and CJ knew she wasn't all that far behind. Toby, it was always hard to tell. He stared out the window. He stood up suddenly and pressed the button on the TV.

"….And the breaking news in recap. Video footage released to CNN of Americans held by Qumaran rebels. The Qumaran government is denying all connection with the rebels…" Here the camera showed some extremely grainy footage of two figures in a cell. Whether these are American citizens has yet to be confirmed. Although if they are they may perhaps be survivors of the plane crash that claimed the lives of three hundred and twenty passengers and five crew including the White House Deputy Chief Of Staff. The White House is expected to release a statement within the hour.."

"But…but how can they…if we're not there..?" asked CJ inanely, trying to take this new information in. As if on command the pagers went off on all three of them. Beeping interrupted the three in Josh's living room. Sam came out and though they all saw the reddened eyes, no-one made any comment.

"Come on, Sam. Qumaran rebels claiming to have American hostages! Sam- Josh might be alive!" Ruth, entering the room, heard this. She froze solid, turned around and went back onto the sitting room woodenly. Miriam rushed out.

"Is she okay?" asked CJ worriedly.

"Please be right. I don't think she could take another disappointment."

They tried to avoid breaking too many speed limits on the way from the apartment to the White House. Leo met them, practically foaming at the mouth.

"Oval Office. Now" The four of them ran.

"Come in." He turned to a tall man who was holding a tape. "You can begin."

"Thank you, Mr. President. We have received another tape. We can confirm two American hostages- Joshua Lyman and Tony Hamilton of New York. They have been captured by a faction called the Peoples Code under Femi Goetz. Goetz himself was killed and his party nearly wiped out in a particularly bloody coup. They are a particularly dangerous group- xenophobic with a particular hatred of America. They sent demands along with this tape. Non- interference from America and to put pressure on the UN to withdraw peace-keeping troops from the country."

"Josh is alive?" said Donna slowly. "That's definite?" The man looked at the President. The President nodded to him to answer.

"We have confirmed that both hostages were alive when the tape was sent and we have made definite I.D.s on both." Donna sat down limply and CJ followed her. Toby was just standing there, blinking occasionally but making no other movement. The news was gradually sinking in. Then;

"Were alive?" he asked slowly.

"We think the tape was probably filmed about twenty-four hours ago. It was sent by courier mail from the capital city- Bengwe."

"Can we…can we see the tape?" asked CJ. He glanced again at the President.

"The foreign affairs and military advisors have already seen it. So have I. It's not good, CJ. Are you sure you want to see it?" CJ looked paler but nodded. Toby nodded and Donna whispered 'Yes'. They needed proof that he was alive.

"Put it on, please." The man put the tape into the machine and pressed play. The four staffers who hadn't seen it sat close together for mutual support as the tape started showing them what was happening on the other side of the world.

A grainy picture gradually came into focus. It showed a small room with a glaring, harsh light shining down on the lone occupant of the room. It was a man that they didn't recognise. He was tied into the chair and was obviously unconcious. This picture lasted maybe five to ten seconds- long enough to get a positive ID on the man in the chair. He appeared more or less unharmed except for the lump on the top of his head just visible through the crew-cut.

"Oh God…" whispered someone. Donna was frozen into place, suddenly not wanting to watch the tape. None of them did but like a car-crash, they couldn't stop watching. This picture flickered off the screen and was replaced by an almost identical on. This one showed a man also slumped in a chair, wearing a longish brown coat. Like the other man he was tied in the chair. Unlike the other man, the people in the Oval Office knew him personally.

"Josh…" whispered CJ, her eyes transfixed to the screen.

As they watched the man in the chair stirred and jerked as if trying to move his hands. As his hands were tied to the back of the chair however, this was a futile exercise. His head came up and he flinched from the light and his eyes watered a bit. But he was completely recognisable. He didn't look well. A livid bruise marred the side of his face and his cheek was swollen. He was staring past the camera at something. Or as a gravelly voice was heard on the camera- someone.

"Good to see you're awake Mr. Lyman." The figure didn't move.

"Why do you call me that?" it asked, the gaze not moving.

"The others told me some interesting things. You're the American (the word spat out with something even deeper then hate) 'American Deputy Chief of 'Staff. Joshua Lyman."

"Then maybe you should talk to them. Oh wait, you can't. Because you murdered them, didn't you!" The last sentence was almost a snarl.

"Yes. But they told me some interesting things. Were they lying?" There was no answer either to confirm or deny.

"If they were lying then you are of no further use to us. And we might as well shoot you."

Something black and shiny flickered in the edge of the screen. Toby realised with a certain amount of dazed detachment that it was the muzzle of a gun. Josh was frozen in the screen. They knew what was going on in his head. he was reliving Roslyn.

"Now, Stop playing games Mr. Lyman. I assure you, you are in no position to do so." Josh's head sank down as he began to breathe again. He made no reply- he only barely heard the words.

"We know who you are. We are sending this tape to your people in Washington. Along with our demands." Josh's head had shot back up as he stared at the camera with somewhere between horror and hate for the cruel man behind it. For someone who was as private as he was, it was a horrible thought to think that everyone he knew would see this. And if they did decide to kill him, that they would probably film that too. To prove a point. Then the rest of the sentence filtered through and his attention snapped back to the man behind the camera and laughed, actually laughed with disbelief.

"America doesn't negotiate with terrorists." he said with a mix of scorn and surprise. A shadow passed in front of the screen. It coalesced into a man who, on reaching the tied-up man, hit him had enough that his chair rocked backwards. It banged into the wall and bounced back. Leo's fist clenched tighter. He'd seen this damn tape before.

"Hit a guy when he's tied to a chair. Brave of you…" muttered Josh thickly, his mouth on automatic.

"Shut up Josh, for Gods sake, shut up…!" said Sam, echoing the innocent words of last Tuesday. The man on the screen was talking again.

"We are not terrorists- you are the terrorists! Your America, your UN. You come into our country and pretend you are greater then us- holier then us. You lay down the law, in our land. Over our people! We want to free our people!"

"Your people wanted the UN to intervene. Because your government was corrupt. And President Nmala came to us for help to stop the AIDS epidemic."

"President Nmala was a cowardly fool who ran to outsiders for help! He was not worthy of the title of President!"

"He was a good man and far more of a leader of his country then any of your people ever were." This earned him another thump that knocked the chair onto its side. Josh shut up this time, as he tried to regain some breath.

"You had better hope your people do as we say. Or we will kill you and the other man."

"America does not negotiate with terrorists!" This time he stared straight at the camera as he said it. The tape flickered once then went blue.

No-one breathed for a minute. Every time someone had shouted, or a punch had landed, they had jerked or flinched in sympathy.

"Oh, God…" whispered Toby this time. No one could frame anything to say. Donna opened her fists. She had been clenching them and the nails had dug into her palm as the jerked in sympathy with the hits. Little half-moons of blood speckled her hands. She rubbed them on her trousers as she tried to scrub away the memory of that awful ten minutes.

"What…what can be done?" asked CJ, turning fiercely on the President who looked ten years oldr as he stared at the black screen.

"Even if we could negotiate with the terrorists, the UN can't acquiesce. And we can't negotiate with them because, as Josh says, America doesn't negotiate with terrorists. And as much as I would like to go in there with the whole forceof the US Armed Forces- it wouldn't help. We haven't a clue where they are. Josh and the other man will be shot if they know we're invading."

"So there is nothing we can do!" asked Toby his voice raising as he spun to face the older man.

"For the moment, there's nothing we can openly do. We're in negotiations with the New Republic who have, they say, nothing to do with it. And for what it's worth, I believe them." said Leo forcefully. "Even Josh knows that. As he said twice on that damn tape."

"So we're just going to what? Give up on him?" hissed CJ furiously. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Of course we're not going to do that! We are doing everything we can! It is internal affairs. It is the Qumaran Government who will capture them. and they will, if we put enough pressure on them. Which believe me, we are doing." He paused. By rights he shouldn't be saying any of this. But he was saying it anyway.

"We are going to get him back. But we won't get him back doing what they tell us."

"His poker face has gotten better" said Sam in a high voice, edging somewhere close to hysteria. He was shaking with rage and fear.

"Sam! Sam- he's alive. And we will save him. Remember that."

---

Chapter 8

Imprisoned.

Josh was taken out of the chair and, only half conscious, shoved along a narrow bright- too bright corridor. At the end was a few tiny cells. He was shoved into one and the door was closed on him. He stumbled and couldn't catch himself, as dazed as he was. He fell heavily and lay there for a minute as the world spun around him. He swallowed heavily, feeling he was going to throw up. He very much doubted anyone would clear it up if he did and this cell was so small that if he threw up he'd be standing in it for however long it would be. There was just room for him to lie down, if he was lying diagonally. He rolled over onto his back. This was about the limit of his ability to move at all. He tried to avert his gaze from the harsh, glaring fluorescent lighting above but it was everywhere, pervading everything. His eyes watered again. His face hurt. Actually, everything hurt. After the camera had stopped rolling they had beat him up- not seriously. Their intention was to bruise and hurt, not maim. Yet. He checked his face tenderly. He thought he'd felt something crack up there. Ah! Shit- that hurt! But nothing seemed broken.

He thought back to the humiliation of the camera. Knowing that his friend would see this. See what had happened to him in a way made it all so much worse. On the other hand- he thought of the conversation in the room and winced. Go the great diplomat. On the other hand he'd meant every word. America would not- could not negotiate with terrorists. And if he was going to die because of that principle… It hit home to him properly that he, in all likelihood would die here. In this cursed place, under the whim of a maniac. And because his own people had betrayed him. That was what made him angriest. As this though occurred to him the door swung back and Tony Hamilton was flung in. He was just beginning to regain consciousness. Josh glared down at him in disgust. Bastard hadn't even woken up until now. Hadn't been beaten, humiliated and interrogated. Hadn't been threatened with death- a gun waved in his face as he sat, tied into a chair. He turned away in fury. He felt quite capable of administering the beating that the guy had missed out on. His fists clenched. Josh stared at them in horror at his own viciousness. He turned around and sat down in defeat with his back to the door. Hamilton- weasel that he was, was the only one that was probably on his side. Though really as allies went, he'd probably be better off alone.

Hamilton sat up with as groan and looked around. He was seeing double. This wasn't a good thing considering he was being treated to two angry, mocking, bruised faces. As he looked closer they joined back into one and a body was now attached to it. He couldn't meet the eyes of the man he'd betrayed for his own freedom.

"Hiya. Not quite the way this was supposed to go, was it?" asked Josh with mocking lightness.

"I…no…" he sighed. He was ashamed beyond all other thoughts and feelings. He had been a complete coward. He had risked everything for his own selfish needs. He couldn't say any of this and just stared at the wall in a maelstrom of confusion, self- digust and horror. Josh, not being psychic, was astounded and infuriated by the mans apparent apathy.

"You, you…just sit there! You!" he choked on his fury ass it boiled over. Hesprang to his feet, repressing with a certain amount of difficulty the urge to physically attack the man sitting in his perfect calm. "You weren't beaten up on fucking CCTV to be broadcast as a warning of what happens when you mess with fruitcakes like this guy! You…You sold me to them- and you can't even say it was for the good of everyone- it was for yourselves- and the other three are dead. These guys play just as tricky as you."

That got a reaction all right. Tony closed his eyes for a second.

"Yeah, I figured as much…" he whispered. "I am sorry, believe me, I am for what I did to you. I was a coward. You're right- we sold you out. None of us really believe they would hurt us. Not Americans" his lips twisted is a grimace. "I don't know. It just seemed you were leading us to our deaths when there was a chance we could be saved."

"Saved. Yeah well, not much chance of that now, is there? And your buddies- Jessi Owens, Jesse Johnson? And Daniel Terris. They won't ever be 'saved' now- don'tyou understand that! We nearly got out- five survivors of that plane is now down to two beecause of that dumb trick. And us remaining two basically screwed."

"…"

"Five." Josh stared at him, suddenly furious again. What if this weasel sold out the other twenty-five survivors? Claire could lead them out, her and Bremner, Reid. He didn't know if this place was bugged. He moved across the small space that seperated him from Hamilton and whispered the next words almost without moving his lips.

"If you even think about doing to the others what you did to me, just remember that they'll put you back in here. With me." He turned back and sat down against the wall again. Hamilton looked at the bruised faces and swollen cheek and now eye as well and suddenly knew that the other man meant it.

Josh leaned into the corner and shut his eyes. His poker face obviously wasn't as bad as his friends always made out. Although to a certain extent he did mean it. He wasn't going to let this coward murder the other survivors. They'd gotten so far. He'd really thought they might make it. The others would make it he decided with determination. Although…he'd have liked to have been there when they did. And what would they think? he wondered. That he and the other four had run off and left them to their fate? It would have been easy. And perhaps even sensible- no wounded, a smaller group with a better chance of escape. He just hoped that that wasn't what they thought of him. He shook his head. No, even if they did think that at first when they got back to America, surely they'd find out what had happened to them.

God he hurt. And what was a lot more worrying was that he didn't have his medication. Taken by the soldiers he figured. He wondered could he get them back. He needed to take a fairly convoluted cocktail of medicines and pills to stay alive after someone had shot a piece of metal through his pulmonary artery and lung. He didn't have them. Without them he would start to get ill after maybe a day or two. If he still didn't take them, especially in conditions like this, he would probably have either a stroke or a heart attack within a week. Which would, on the other hand sort out the hostage problem as far as he was concerned. On the other hand, they'd still have Hamilton.

He decided to think positively. What did they have on their side? Um…not a lot. One bruised and soon-to-be-seriously-ailing politician. One weasel. He looked over at the miserable Hamilton who was in an almost fetal position in the corner, as far away from Josh as possible. He sighed. He didn't like Hamilton. And he would certainly never forget what he had done to him. But he understood that they had been scared.

"Why did you do it, Hamilton? Yeah, you were scared, but so was everyone else. Why you four in particular?"

"My daughter." he spoke quietly after a short pause. Josh looked confused.

"Your daughter?" he echoed.

"She has leukaemia. Cancer of the blood. She's in treatment. But it's expensive. Her mother is dead. Leukaemia too. I'm earning the money for the treatment. But it's expensive. We don't have much. Not enough that I can afford to not to be earning every minute I can. I was scared that…if I was dead. If I was thought dead… There isn't enough money. Even in a life insurance policy. Don't think I didn't think of that. And also, the shock of having her father, her last relative, die like this. The shock would put her back months. She might not survive. I had to get home as fast as possible. I had to. I wasn't thinking straight. I…I was prepared to put this ahead of everything. Ahead of what I knew was wrong. Ahead of the group." He lapsed back into silence. Josh nodded. Yeah, he understood. He might even have done the same in the mans position. He didn't know. No one could unless it happened to them.

He opened his mouth to say something- he wasn't sure what, when the lights suddenly snapped out. It was pitch black. There was a scuffling noise from somewhere around the right wall. Josh froze, wondering if they were about to be invaded by rats or something. He'd never liked rats much. Mice, gerbils, guinea-pigs- rodents were universally evil as far as he was concerned since he'd managed to get himself locked into the basement in a friends house in a game of hide and seek when he was about five. There'd been a rat-infestation down there which was why it had been off-limits. He'd forgotten in the excitement of the game. He was stuck in there for almost four hours and ever since had been repulsed by the furry demons.

"Psst!" a noise came from the wall. He frowned. Rats definitely didn't make that sort of sound. A high-pitched giggly sound followed.

"Hello?" he asked back in a low voice, not wanting to attract the attention of any soldiers lurking in the vicinity. The scuffling stopped. A feeling of tense expectation filled the air. He pushed himself forward so he was lying on his stomach with his face up to the right-hand wall. The giggly sound came through again. He started brushing away the dust and then digging the hard-packed dirt beneath. Hamilton came over and started too, timidly at first as if afraid Josh might bite him. Josh moved over slightly to let him get at the wall as well. Suddenly two fingers poked through from under the wall, causing both Josh and Tony to jump about two feet. The fingers wiggled a bit and they dug around them. Now there was a hole, about the size of a fist on their size, leading underneath the brick wall. Josh lay down flat to look through it. Suddenly there was an eye on the other side too. The eye widened in shock and abruptly vanished. A scrabbling noise and the owner of the eye retreated. A low whimpering sound could be heard on the other side.

"Hello?" tried Tony, pushing Josh aside so he could look through the hole. "We're prisoners too. We're not going to hurt you…" He glanced up at Josh and shrugged. Josh tried again.

"My name is Josh Lyman. This is Tony Hamilton. We were in a plane crash." He noticed the whimpering was decreasing in volume as he talked. He kept talking and the scuffling started again, quieter, but coming closer again.

"We were walking- we hoped to walk out but we got caught. They're talking to our Government."

"They won't come." suddenly came from the other side.

"Sorry?" asked Tony excitedly. Success- the person had spoken. That giggle came floating eerily through the still air. A singsong voice came through the hole.

"They say they'll come but then they never do…I've been left here forever. And now you are too." Josh raised his eyebrows questioningly. Tony shrugged.

"Who say that? Who never came?"

"They said they'd come! But they never did!" the voice rose almost to a shriek. Josh backed away, wincing as the blast went straight in his ear. His head hurt too much for this. They sat in silence for a few seconds, not sure what to say.

"No! No, please don't go! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Even if you are imaginary, please don't leave me alone again!" Josh hurried to reassure him.

"It's okay, we're still here. We're real. What's your name?"

"My …name?" The pause drew out. "My name- I have a name. It's been…My name is …Stephen. Hennessy. I haven't been called that in a while now."

"How long have you been here, Stephen?" asked Tony.

"What is time in here?" came the reply. "I honestly don't know. Don't know. There are no days here. Only nights. They turn off the lights at strange times. And on again. And off. And…"

"And why do they do that?" asked Josh hurriedly, trying not to lose the guy into his own thoughts again.

"To drive you mad. To confuse you. They come in at strange times too. there's no routine. Routine can be counted. You can stay sane by routine. Like this, there's no certainty."

"Well that was clear enough." muttered Tony to Josh. Josh nodded thoughtfully. Maybe Stephen wasn't as crazy as he'd first appeared. Maybe he'd just been left alone long enough that he could only think sideways. Maybe they could get him coherent again.

"They wake you up by water or hurt. Hurt too. No thoughts allowed. No words allowed. Only thoughts."

Or not.

"But, no! No, sleep while you can. You won't sleep when they've finished with you." The voice on the other side fell silent again. A few seconds later, breathing followed. regular breathing of a sleeping person.

They conversed toge6tther for a while in low voices.

"Well that was strange. Do you think he's completely cracked or it's just because he's been alone so long?" asked Tony.

"I don't know. He sounded lucid enough sometimes. Maybe if we can get him out of here he'll recover with professional help."

"Get him out of here? We can barely get ourselves out." answered Tony, slumping into the corner with a sigh.

"What do we have between us?" asked Josh, determined not to fall back into a self-pitying depression. "Apart from lots of bruises?"

"Our clothes. Currently our sanity." he added, glancing at the right-hand wall.

"Go through your pockets. Maybe they've left us something." Silence fell as they each went through the myriad pocket in their layers of clothing that had protected them against the harsh conditions in the mountains. Outside, they knew it was possible to see land free of snow and ice ands they'd been shedding the excess layers as they walked through the large valley. When they'd finished they laid out the meagre assortment of things they had. They stared at them.

"Oookay. So one large dangly hoop earring. One key from God-knows-where. One…thing." They stared for a second at the lump of twisted metal.

"I think it might be a door- hinge."

"Yeah. Once maybe. Two scraps of string of pretty much useless length. One piece of paper with a phone number on it. Three coins of various origin.A stick of gum. And one pencil."

"Sharp pencil." offered Josh.

"One sharp…H5 pencil."

"Y'no, maybe if I'd watched McIvor more often I'd have figured out how to make a bomb out of two potatoes and a scrap of string."

"Kinda requires two potatoes, though."

"Well, a machete out of a hoop-earring and a scrap of paper."

"Yeah, you really never know when you might have to do that"

"You know, one thing we were lucky with, back out side was that we didn't have people on medication or seriously injured. We were all pretty healthy." Josh winced and figured he might as well tell him.

"Well, actually, that's not quite true. I was shot lst year. I have to take stuff every day to keep me healthy."

"And they have it, don't they?" asked Tony, knpwing the answer already. Josh nodded, staring through the darkness at the ceiling.

"What's the chances of them giving it to you?"

"Not great, I don't think. I don't dare tell them how important it is or they'll use it as another hold. He remembered Tony had been out cold for the filming and told him what had happened.

"So they know we're here? They'll get us out." Josh shook his head.

"America doesn't negotiate with terrorists. In this case, even if they could, the UN couldn't do what they are saying. It would endanger this country and probably plunge it right back into civil war. There are a lot of innocent people out there, and it's them who'll suffer, not the bad guys. We can't be saved at that cost. And they don't know where we are. We're on our own."

Tony slumped back.

"Well, that's it then, I guess." he sighed. "What's likely to happen if you don't get those pills back.

"Start getting sick. Probably have either a stroke or a heart attack within a week or two." he said quietly. Tony whistled.

"From getting shot last year? Shit, that's bad. How do you do you're job if you're that ill? It's a fairly high-stress one." Josh shrugged.

"I try not to think about it. As long as I have the medication, I'm grand."

"And what do your co-workers and friends think?"

"They don't know, most of them." he admitted into the darkness.

He made a indescribable sound. "Well, good for you, you lunatic. Now let's work on getting out of here so you can get back to doing idiot things like that. And I can get back to my daughter." he added almost in a whisper.

"Don't know how we're going to, but we will get out of here. We can't do anything in this dark. Hide the stuff well- we don't have enough resources that we can afford to waste what we do have." They kept the 'equipment' on them, well hidden. They didn't know if they were likely to moved at any time.

Josh went to sleep, wondering uneasily what Stephen had meant about being woken by 'water and hurt'.

He found out at some indescribable time after a time asleep. The cell door slammed back and water poured into the tiny cell. Josh gasped as he was drenched. He couldn't breathe for a few seconds as water filled his mouth and nose. He turned away and choked and gasped until his lungs filled again. Tony was in the same predicament.

"You!" the tall man with the furzy brown beard pointed at Josh. Two men dragged him out, still trying to rid his throat and airways of water. His lungs weren't bad any more but they still weren't exactly robust and couldn't really cope with all this. He was brought back to the room with the hated camera.

"This time you are to be- live, you say? on Qumaran television and your own CNN. You will read this." The man with the body suit and mask thrust a piece of paper into Josh's hands. He was completely covered up, Josh realised. There was no way to tell anything about him, even his hair or skin colour. He was a big man- easily topping Josh himself by two inches or so. And Josh was tall enough that he could loom fairly convincingly over most people he knew.

"You will read when camera is switched on."

---

Chapter Nine

CNN Get The Breaking Story

Carol was filing in the bullpen. It was quiet. It had been quiet for the last three days, since one of their own had been snatched. There hadn't been any word from the kidnappers since this mornings tape. CNN was flashing it's daily news from around the world. Obviously, it's main story was the kidnap. The identity of the hostages hadn't been released yet to the Press- that was to be done at three o clock y CJ. She glanced up as the picture flickered onto the screen- the blurry one of the two hostages. Now that she knew their identities she couldn't help peering closer in morbid fascination. It flashed off and the newsreader moved onto other news. She was about to turn away when something happened. The newsreader was mouthing excitedly. She scrabbled for the volume.

"…coming in! This is totally unexpected. We're putting it onscreen now- it appears to be a message from the terrorists who claim they are holding two Americans hostages in Qumar." As she spoke a picture came up. it showed a man in a chair. He wasn't in good condition. She recognised him.

"CJ! CJ!"

CJ came running out and all the heads in the bullpen turned to look at Carol, where she was pointing to the TV. She turned the volume up further and the room froze.

CJ hit the record button automatically.

"Melissa- get Leo to watch this. Hurry."

She saw the bruises that showed up too well against her friends too-pale face. He seemed to be sitting awkwardly, favouring his right side. She clenched her fists as she felt a rush of hate for the people that would do this. The figure coughed again. He was soaking wet. He seemed to be holding a piece of paper that he was peering at. He was reading in a flat rasping voice.

"…America have committed grave cr…" he was cut off by coughing. "…against the Q…" The paper fluttered to the ground as the coughing returned, hacking, lung-splitting coughing that shook his whole body. They reminded her of how he'd coughed last year after surviving twelve-hour surgery on his heart and lungs. The picture went blurry as she felt tears of fear, fury and impotence spring to her eyes. Come on, Josh. Ride it out. You remember how to stop these fits. Survive it. Please, ran through her head as her body tensed and her fists clenched, willing him to be okay.

"…Oh my God, this is terrible…" came the voice of the horrified newsreader. "It appears to be the Deputy Chief of Staff at the White House, Josh Lyman who was believed lost in the South American plane crash of a week ago. This is being fed through live- " A shadow passed in front of the screen and a fist flew out and hit the man tied into the chair in the face. Like the time before, the chair rocked backwards but the coughing if anything intensified.

"God…will somebody cut the broadcast!" came the frantic voiceover from the newsreader. CJ sank down onto the nearest desk. God, why wouldn't someone do something! The figure had snatched up the piece of paper and was reading it in a low, gravelly voice. It said that America was aiding and abetting the vile crimes of the UN who had invaded their country. If the UN troop were withcalled and America vowed that they would not enter the country, then the two hostages would be released. If not, they would be killed. If they attempted to invade they would be killed. If they attempted to get the 'illegal government of Qumar' to invade, they would be killed.They had twenty-four hours to comply or show good faith or the first of he hostages would be shot. In the middle of the speech the rasping coughing had weakened and fallen silent. CJ bit her lip in anxiety for her friend. Oh God, would they have to mourn him again?

The terrible scene flickered and vanished. The white face of the woman who had been reading the news appeared instead. She opened her mouth but no words would come out.

"That…that was awful…"she managed. "We had no… we did not broadcast that…" Something from offscreen caught her attention. "We are going to take a commercial break." she stuttered. The CNN newsroom vanished and an ad for washingup liquid came on. The room was frozen silent. CJ found her hand to her mouth and let it drop. It was wet. She found damp track down her cheeks where she had not noticed the tears running. She suddenly needed to get sick and stumbled out into the corridor, where she used the silence out there to breathe. The corridors were empty because everyone was in the nearest office, watching in shock, fury and terror as the horrific pictures beamed across America sending the message that they were not invincible.

"CJ!" It was Sam. He looked like he'd thrown up too, which wasn't surprising as he had. His face was white and he looked terrible. "CJ, Leo's office- now!"

The President was speaking to the Leadership. It had become obvious that they had to do something. Even if they risked war with all of the African countries. Not that that was likely probably, when the leaders of those countries saw what was happening. He wasn't sure if he cared that there were mainly innocent people there. This couldn't happen.

CJ, Toby and Sam sat in Mrs. Landinghams office. Donna came running in. She'd seen the broadcast and was pale as a sheet. When she sat, her hands were jerking nervously as she fidgeted with impatience and the effects of the shock. They didn't know what todo. What to say. They sat, lost in their own thoughts.

"They didn't care." said Toby suddenly, the first one to speak. "He wasn't able to breath and tearing his lungs apart with the coughing and they didn't give a damn! Was he, another human being, so little to them!"

"What's going to happen to him?" asked Donna, quietly. "He's not taking his medication, is he? They probably haven't given it to him. I recognise the symptoms."

CJ glanced sharply. "What medication?" she asked.

"His…medication." she winced. "I knew about it. I found the prescription on his desk. He's on nasty stuff. And I looked it up. He missed a day or two –'bout three months ago- there was polling or something- you know how he gets during polling. He missed a couple of doses. And this started happening. He sorted it out."

"What… what till happen if he doesn't get it?" asked Sam, not wanting to know. Not wanting to hear that what had happened to his friend one fine May night was still affecting him now.

"He…oh, what does it matter if you know now! He has maybe a week. Two in good conditions. Then he'll be liable to a heart- attack or stroke. Heart attack probably. Those conditions…"she snorted, a sound that came out as a half-sob. "A week if he's lucky. Probably less."

"Why the hell didn't he tell us!" asked Toby after the silence that followed. He sounded somewhere between angry, hurt and shocked.

"He didn't even want me to know." Donna replied, staring through the wall. "He didn't want us hovering- like last Christmas. Worrying about him."

"Hey, if we hadn't worried about him last Christmas, last May, he…" He stopped. The sentence hung in the air.

The door swung open. Leo leaned out looking unwell. "Come on."

Okay, the uploader was screwing me around so I've given up on chapters. It' s now an indigestible wadge again. Oh well. Chapter 10 and 11 coming soon.

In the meantime, feeeed me. Please?