Martin's favorite number growing up had always been five. It was his age when his father took off his training wheels, it was the amount he got from the tooth fairy each time he lost one, it was the number of his soccer jersey back when he used to play in school. Five was just Martin's lucky number, the one he always bet on when he had to choose one; it just seem to naturally follow him through life.

Chris had been missing for five days now.

Right now five was his new least favorite number. But then each new day Chris was missing was Martin's least favorite number. Every time a day added to the count was a new reminder that his brother was still gone, and increased the chances of never finding him again.

Martin was growing desperate. No Chris, no news, no finds, nothing (and as much as he did not want to go there, no body either, but he would take the good that came with that). He was slowly losing his mind as each search came up empty handed.

The police had started to reach out to other parks and nearby areas, asking if they had seen any sign of Chris and to keep an eye out for him and contact them if they did. While Martin could not appreciate what they were doing more, the thought that Chris could be anywhere was terrifying.

Martin started to feel hopeless as he mentally weighed the chances of finding his brother, his heart painfully constricting in his chest; if Chris could be anywhere, then was he wasting his time searching here? If he was taken out of the park, Martin wouldn't even know. They had almost nothing to go by either. The only insight they had pointed to Chris being kidnapped, but nothing on who or where, which meant he was essentially doing this search blind.

The creeping sense of trepidation started to return, and he struggled to push it away. Every second was critical, and Martin was painfully aware that Chris' life was very much in danger. As the time passed, it seemed like chances of finding Chris were beginning to look grim.

Martin knew he could not live with the guilt if he was responsible for Chris suffering, or worse, dying, because he didn't have a clue where to search. It was bad enough Chris was kidnapped because Martin made that stupid bet in the first place.

The time ticked to twelve AM midnight, making Martin's stomach drop as the date changed over. Martin hated the number six.


Pale dawn light filtered through the atrium of the Tortuga when Aviva was woken to several loud bangs coming from near the main doors. From the sounds of snoring that could only be Jimmy and Koki still sleeping, she guessed it was up to her to get up then. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she sat up from her hammock, shuffling to put on her slippers and robe as she got up to investigate the source of the noise.

It turned out to be the only one she knew who could be that loud. Martin. The blond appeared to have had dropped everything he had on the floor, apparently not caring if would wake everyone else up.

Normally Aviva would chastise Martin for sneaking out and being out so late (so early? It was pushing six AM) regarding the circumstances, but she found herself flooded with relief that Martin was safe, with only a few scratches most likely from thick underbrush.

His heard turned slightly when he heard Aviva enter the room, but his focus remained on his gear as he halfheartedly began to put it away, his back to her. She moved forward a few steps, Martin tensing when she did.

"Are you alright Martin?" Aviva asked, frowning in worry.

Martin jumped at the sound of her voice, but otherwise didn't turn around. His movements were stiff as he pulled off his creature power suit, silent as he placed it in its usual spot; Aviva noticed his hands were shaking slightly.

"Martin?"

While Aviva was still uneasy with Martin's quiet and tense behavior that had replaced his normal buoyant personality for the past several days (although obviously understanding given his worry about Chris), he usually at least kept her updated and talked to her. He stopped what he was doing, this time, but instead of turning around he balled his hands into fists and looked down.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" Aviva asked again while walking towards his front, her concern spiking as Martin continued to stare at the ground in silence, biting his lip. It was the first time she had ever seen the man so quiet and unsure, and it was starting to scare her. "Martin? Is everything alright, do you need me to wake up the others?"

Martin paused before shaking his head, finally speaking. "I-I can't find him, Aviva." His voice was barely a whisper, and Aviva had to strain to hear his words. It sounded tremulous and broken, making her own heart start to break as well. "It's been six days, I have no idea where Chris is or-" Martin paused to take several deep breaths, closing his eyes as he swallowed. "I've looked everywhere, and... I just want my brother back."

What could she say in response to that to make him feel better? When Martin finally looked up Aviva noticed his red eyes and tear stained face; no doubt he had been crying for a while, most likely before he even came home. He looked as if he was barely keeping himself from falling apart, his lips pressed together as if he was trying not to cry again.

"It's my fault," Martin continued, running a nervous hand through his hair. Aviva opened her mouth to protest that no, it absolutely was not, but Martin shook his head and cut her off before she had a chance to speak. "All because of a stupid bet that I made. 'Who can find the first gorilla. Loser has to go back to the Tortuga and help with the disc, so we could have one faster. Uh, no offense Aviva."

That was the last thing on her mind.

"I shouldn't have made that bet!" Martin said, hitting his forehead with his fists. He started to pace as the pitch of his voice rose. "I should have been there to protect Chris! He told me he about the gorillas going missing, but I left him alone anyways, and someone kidnapped him."

"You couldn't have predicted that," she said. "You had no way of knowing what was gonna happen. The only one to blame is whoever took Chris." Her heart tightened when she heard Martin's breath hitch.

Aviva knew Martin felt a small part at fault for Chris going missing, and while she didn't like that he placed that guilt on himself and didn't blame him in any way, she could understand his reasons. Martin, as much of a forgetful goofball as he acted sometimes, knew when to be serious, and his role of the older brother was one of them. What she did not know until now was how much of a burden of guilt he had placed on himself.

"This isn't your fault, and you shouldn't blame yourself."

Martin pulled out Chris' broken creature pod from his pocket, clutching it tightly as he inspected the damage. He had taken to carrying it with him everywhere once Aviva had given it back after running the diagnostics. Shaking his head, Martin put the device back in his pocket. "But it still happened." his voice dropped back to a whisper, meeting Aviva's eyes for a second before looking down. "I should've had his back, not making stupid bets. A-And now-"

Aviva watched in sympathy when Martin's voice cracked at the end of his sentence, and had started to cry. She immediately pulled him into a hug, which he gratefully accepted.

"I-I don't know what to do," he choked, "Chris, is out there somewhere. He needs me, but I've looked for days and can't find him. What if he's not even here anymore? What if he's dead-"

"Chris isn't dead, Martin," Aviva cut him off, not even letting him entertain the idea. The dark thought that Chris could be dead was starting to creep through the very back of her mind as well, but she always snuffed it out immediately. "We'll find him. I promise, we'll find him."

Bracing herself to hear Martin protest, she was relieved to feel him nod against her. He cried for several more minutes, letting out several days of worry and frustration that had bottled in and let build. Aviva let him, hugging him back just as tight.

Finally he pulled away, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "Thanks, Aviva," he said, a soft smile on his face that was the first one she had seen in days. "I'm just- worried about Chris, that's all. It's been almost a week, and..."

"I know, and we'll find him soon, I just know it. But you should get some rest, you're running yourself to the ground," Aviva said, eyeing the lines of exhaustion around his eyes.

Martin held an almost unspoken hesitation in his eyes, before he nodded. "Let me know if anything happens," he said, before turning around and heading to his room.


Chris was hauled up by the back of his shirt collar, making him choke slightly as it pulled against his neck and cut off his air supply. One of his captors was up in his face and yelling something, although his mind couldn't process what he was saying, too run down by days (weeks? No, he hadn't eaten, he would have starved if it had been that long) of constant torment.

The other one holding him up shook him roughly when he didn't respond, making his head spin, and then Chris felt the cold steel barrel of a pistol at the base of his neck. He instantly froze.

"Please-" he choked out, tears running down his face, terrorized as he heard the 'click' of the gun. Was it loaded with another blank? Or was it the real thing this time? Please don't please don't please don't-

The very small and desperate part of the back of Chris' mind almost considered the gun, an end to the constant pain and suffering he had endured since he had awoken here. However, he couldn't do that to Martin and his friends, who would no doubt be crushed if they found out. If they found him. But that only meant they weren't caught up in this and were safe, and that was all that mattered to Chris.

"Plea-"

BANG!

Chris let out a startled yell and flinched as the gun shifted and then fired, the loud noise ringing in his ears as he momentarily couldn't hear a thing. A blank. Whoever was holding his shirt collar dropped him back to the ground, making Chris land on his hands and knees. His limbs were quivering, from the exhaustion, the strain, the intensity-

Overcome by the stress of it all, Chris started to throw up, which consisted only of stomach acid that was tinged red. It burned his parched throat as it came up, raw from his thirst and coughing and screaming, causing him to sob from the pain as he then continued to dry heave.

They were mocking him as they stood above Chris, laughing and jeering at his suffering. One of them kicked him hard in the side, making him utter a strangled cry as it hit a rib that was most likely broken, fire coursing up his chest as he collapsed. The man pushed down on his back with his boot, digging it in and in until he couldn't take it and he started screaming again-

Chris awoke with a gasp, which had turned into a series of rough coughs as the illness he had contacted raged through his body. Closing his eyes, he tried to get his racing heart to slow down, taking careful deep breaths in order to avoid aggravating his lungs. Now the few blissful hours he managed to get of sleep when he could actually get some were disrupted by constant nightmares (more like flashbacks). He was exhausted, his mind was slowly going insane.

He was curled up on the ground, huddled into himself to try and keep in body heat with his broken hand clutched protectively to his chest. He could not stop shivering; his body was freezing, and between the cold mountain air running through the drafty building and his wet clothes that wouldn't dry all the way, his body just could not get warm.

How much time has passed since he'd been here now? His stomach was twisted and knotted in hunger that made him dizzy, so it had to have been days at this point. At least his captors had untied the ropes, although not before they had left deep and painful marks on his skin from his struggling. But it allowed him a little movement and eased his feeling of entrapment, if only a little.

It wasn't like he had the energy to escape anyway, not after fighting hunger and illness for the past several days. He could barely crawl, let alone run away.

Were they going to kill him? His captors had said he would be asking for it by the end, and Chris was afraid he was getting closer to that point. But despite everything he had gone though so far, nearly begging for it when the pain was at its peak, Chris was still terrified to die. He couldn't, not when Martin and his friends were probably worried sick about where he was, and while he could still hear the cries of the animals still in danger near him.

Unfortunately as each day passed, his outlook was looking more bleak, and since the sound of gunfire over the past several days hadn't drawn any attention, he doubted anyone would find him now.

Suddenly Chris was overcome by a wave of longing and want for Martin andto see him again, as if he had not in a long time. Chris was afraid of what was going to happen to himself. and as his elder brother, Martin had always been there to comfort Chris when he needed it. The thought that he might not ever see his brother (and his friends, as well) again made tears prick his eyes.

His frame shook as more coughs racked through his body, suppressing a cry as it aggravated his broken ribs. He could feel himself grow weaker each day, what he assumed to be pneumonia beating him down as it ate away at what little strength he had left. If his captors weren't going to kill him soon, then his health surely would before them.

Either way, Chris had the feeling his fate was already sealed. He only hoped Martin would forgive him.