AN: I hope this chapter is okay. I like it, but it's kind of wild, and it's also on the shorter side. Like there's angst and humor and action and a bit of whump, so like, I hope it doesn't feel too discombobulated and disconnected. Idk. I hope you enjoy it!

Out of all the things Malcolm regretted, ever engaging with any other living being throughout his life was close to the top of the list. If he had never gotten anyone else involved in his life, then at least he would be the only one to suffer. As it was, JT had to suffer in the forest in the middle of nowhere because he had the misfortune of knowing Malcolm. Everyone he met was worse off for knowing him. Even if they got out of their current situation, how could Malcolm ever make it up to JT? Just by getting the hell out of the man's life? What else was there that would actually ensure that JT never had to suffer because of Malcolm again?

Malcolm shivered as the breeze turned cold. It had been a hot day, but a cold front was fast approaching. If they didn't find shelter soon, they were going to get soaked. But aside from the trees, there really wasn't much of anything they could use. Malcolm didn't have any knowledge of wilderness survival, and JT had admitted that his knowledge was much more suited to the desert, not the forest. They were going to be in trouble.

"If we're near mountains, then there should be some caves around here, or something, right?" Malcolm asked. He really didn't know, he was just tossing out any ideas he had.

"Maybe," JT said in reply from up ahead. "But if we're heading towards the sea, towards civilization, then we're heading away from the mountains."

"And away from caves," Malcolm muttered, finishing JT's thought. It made sense, but it didn't help them in their immediate predicament of needing shelter for the fast approaching stormy night.

They kept walking for another few minutes, in as straight a line as they could manage while concussed and hurting, in silence. They weren't speaking, the birds weren't chirping, and the breeze had all but stopped. That was the most unsettling part. The air that had turned cold was once again humid, hanging around them thick like the chloroform soaked rag that Dr. Whitly had used to drug his son. Malcolm shivered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

A flash of light and a loud crash split the encroaching darkness. Malcolm froze, the hair at the back of his neck standing on end.

"Dude, get over here," JT called out to him from his place several yards away. His eyes were stern and his face was set. Malcolm quickly walked over to him as more thunder rumbled over their heads. "You stay right with me, okay? We don't split up," the man said with a single shake of his head.

"Yeah, of course," Malcolm replied. It seemed a little odd that JT was so insistent about something that should've been the expectation, but he wouldn't push it. It wasn't as if they had been truly split up at all, only slightly apart. But JT didn't seem to want even that anymore.

Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and the resounding boom was accompanied by the first drops of rain. Malcolm could hear them beginning to hit the tops of the trees, and knew it was only a matter of time before he and JT were both soaked. On instinct, he reached out for JT's sleeve.

"Come on," he said, pulling JT towards a group of trees all together. That was the extent of his knowledge on what to do in their situation.

"On the ground, come on, kid," JT said. He crouched down and even pulled Malcolm close to him. The two were shoulder to shoulder, as small and protected and they could possibly be. "We'll be fine," he added. Malcolm wasn't sure if JT was talking to him, or to himself.

A few minutes later, Malcolm could feel JT shivering next to him. The rain wasn't thick enough yet to do more than graze them, and the temperature was still far hotter than Malcolm was comfortable with, and yet JT shivered - with every clap of thunder.

A few minutes after that, the rain fell in earnest. Thick, heavy drops fell from the sky and made their way through the tree cover, falling onto Malcolm and JT and chilling them quickly. Malcolm started to shiver as the rain soaked through his suit. The rain mixed with the blood on his shirt, turning it all a shade a pink and running down towards his waistline. Shivers were soon wracking his thin frame, and his teeth began to chatter. Malcolm's hair was plastered to his forehead, the water cutting through it and trailing down the back of his neck. As he shook, JT wrapped his arm around Malcolm's shoulders and pulled him even closer. As he held Malcolm close, JT's shivers lessened and lessened, until finally, he wasn't shivering at all. Malcolm was even warmer, but shivers still wracked his body. But JT helped.

"It'll end soon enough," JT said, almost directly into Malcolm's ear in order to not shout. Malcolm just nodded, but he wasn't sure if JT could tell it was a nod and not just another shiver. His teeth were chattering too much for him to speak. Once again, he was jealous of JT's height and muscle mass. It was much harder for JT to get as freezing cold as Malcolm was, and it was totally unfair.

Malcolm wasn't sure how long they huddled together in a futile attempt to stay dry. Lightning ravaged the forest, taking down trees that couldn't have been all that far away. The slope they were on prevented a flash flood, but everything was soaked down to the bone and roots regardless.

Finally, the rain began to abate, and each crash of thunder sounded a little further away. Soon after, JT slowly stood with a groan, leaning heavily against the tree. He clutched his head with one hand, his eyes squeezed shut tight.

"Y-you okay?" Malcolm asked, teeth still chattering. Things were slowly improving.

"Yeah, yeah," JT replied with a wave of his hand. It had to be the concussion, but, like JT had said before, there was nothing they could do about it in the wilderness. He took another deep breath, then nodded slowly once more. "I'm good."

Malcolm stood up, hoping that getting moving again would help to warm him up. He ran a hand through his drenched locks, smoothing them back and away from his eyes. More water ran down from them, sending another chill down his spine.

"We gotta cover some more ground before it gets dark again," JT said, looking back up at the sky. He was right. Now that the storm had passed, the sky was brighter, but that would only last so long. They needed to find a relatively safe place to stay to wait out the night.

"Maybe we'll find a cabin, or something," he hopefully suggested.

"Wouldn't that be ironic," JT muttered as they started moving again.

Malcolm's loafers squelched with each step, sinking into the mud more and more, making disgusting noises each time. If they got out of this, the shoes were definitely going to be a casualty. At least they weren't his favorites.

The ground, once uneven, but now downright treacherous, made Malcolm's steps awkward and gait irregular. That pulled at the gash at his ribs, making the pain that had dulled away and numbed during the storm once again stabbing and white hot. He breathed through it, and forced himself not to slow down, despite the pain and exhaustion coursing through his body. All he wanted was a hot shower and his warm bed, night terrors be damned. As it was, all he could do to distract himself from it all was start a meaningless conversation. He was fairly good at those - at least, with JT, he had a plethora of ideas.

"Justin Travis?" he asked, a smile forming on his face before JT even stopped in his tracks.

JT sighed, shook his head, then kept on walking. "Nope," he said.

"Hmmmm. Juan... Tulio?" Malcolm guessed. He had endless options. He could play that game all day.

"I don't think that's even a name," JT said.

"But you didn't say it wasn't your name," Malcolm pointed out, even physically pointing, despite the fact that JT was in front of him, and thus didn't see it.

"Dude, Juan Tulio is not my name," he replied, but Malcolm could tell by his tone of voice that he wasn't as annoyed as he was pretending to be.

"John Travolta?"

"What? No, my parents did not name me after John Travolta, who the hell would-."

"John Tolkien?"

"I've never even read Lord of the Rings."

"James Tiberius?"

"I've always been more of a Star Wars fan."

Malcolm caught up to JT's side a bit, and could tell that the man was trying - and failing - desperately not to smile.

"Justin Timberlake?" he asked, barely able to keep himself from laughing. JT just sighed. "Justin Trudeau?"

"No, Bright, stop," JT said, his voice low. JT stopped and held a hand out in front of Malcolm, but he couldn't resist posing one more possible - well, not probable - name.

"Jarmel Tarmel?" he asked with a smile.

"Boy, what?" JT whisper-shouted. "Do you think there is any possible way that my name is Jarmel Tarmel Tarmel?" Malcolm just smiled. "No. And I told you to stop because I don't know if you've noticed, but-." He broke off and pointed through the trees that Malcolm realized they were actually concealed behind. "-there's a cabin right there."

Malcolm's eyes widened. He looked away from JT - who didn't actually look mad at all, when Malcolm thought about it - and through the trees. Sure enough, there was a cabin in a small clearing, with a large black SUV parked out front. It could have just been the cabin of a family who owned a luxury vehicle, but with Malcolm's luck, it was probably the Albanians. But were there actually any people inside?

"I'm gonna get a closer look," Malcolm whispered, then began to scurry away from JT.

"Wait, no," JT protested, trying to grab on to Malcolm's sleeve, but Malcolm was able to move just out of the way. "Damnit, kid," he muttered.

Malcolm kept moving further down the hill towards the treeline. He still couldn't see anyone moving inside the cabin.

"Bright!" he heard JT whisper-shout behind him. The man was a bit closer, clearly slowly making his own way down towards the clearing. Malcolm waved a hand behind him in dismissal. He could do this. JT was a detective and well versed in similar situations, but Malcolm had dealt with the mafia more, and if one of them was going to possibly get captured, Malcolm wanted it to be himself. Besides, he was a lot smaller than JT, and thus more able to stay hidden as the trees grew more and more sparse.

Slowly, he leaned around his current hiding tree, and spent a moment looking through the windows. Still no movement. Bracing himself, Malcolm carefully jogged up to the side of the cabin, grimacing at the pain in his side. He could see JT glaring at him from the trees. Malcolm just shrugged, and looked through the window from his place right next to it.

Damnit. There was someone in there. But he looked asleep, lying on a cot directly under the window. Malcolm looked back to JT, pointed inside, then mimed sleeping. JT nodded, and was beginning to take a step closer to Malcolm when his eyes widened. He drew his gun and immediately fired at something off to Malcolm's right.

"Run!" JT shouted at him, all pretense of staying hidden gone. Malcolm looked to where JT had shot, and saw an older blond man, dressed in all black, dead on the ground. There was an AK-47 by the dead man's side. Malcolm went to reach for it, and was greeted by the butt of a gun swinging towards his face before he could grab it. He ducked just in time, the rush of adrenaline covering up the pain in his side. From his lower position, Malcolm dove for the man's legs, taking him to the ground hard. He immediately began hitting the man, knowing that he only had a limited amount of time to render him unconscious before the significantly larger man got the upper hand. The third quick strike to the temple was enough, and the man stopped moving.

Malcolm could hear more shooting on, as well as shouts of pain. He could only hope that JT was winning.

He turned around again to grab for the AK-47, but wasn't fast enough to duck from the second stock swinging towards him.

Malcolm fell hard. Stars exploded behind his eyes, drowning everything in a bright white light. He needed to get up. He needed to grab the gun and get himself and JT out of there. But he couldn't stand. He couldn't move. He couldn't even see.

But he was moving - or, rather, something or someone was moving him, pulling him up from under his arms and dragging him somewhere none too gently.

"J-JT..." he muttered, but that couldn't be right. JT didn't exactly like Malcolm, but there was no way he would be so uncaring when manhandling him. It had to be the Albanians.

Malcolm forced himself to open his eyes and act. He began fighting against whoever was holding him, digging his heels into the ground in an attempt to gain enough traction to stand. The arms against him tightened, keeping him against another body, and unable to get free. He couldn't see JT anywhere, but he saw two more bodies on the ground, and one other man aside from the one who was dragging him into the cabin. Cabins had really never been good to him.

But he and JT hadn't seen anyone as they approached. How had they so suddenly been so outnumbered and overwhelmed? And where was JT now?

Malcolm stopped trying to fight as the man dragging him tossed him to the hard floor. He was smart enough to know that he wasn't going to get away from two large men with large guns while bleeding from his side and head. It was time to talk his way out of it, or at least get as much information as he could.

"Hey guys," he said with a smile. That earned him an immediate kick in the ribs, right on the gash along his side. Malcolm was proud of himself for holding in his scream.

"Quiet," one of the men said. "Gjokaj," he addressed the other man, then said something in Albanian that Malcolm had no way of knowing. The other man walked away, and Malcolm was torn between wanting to know what the other man was doing, and keeping his focus on the man currently towering over him.

Malcolm straightened up as much as he could and carefully ran a hand through his still damp hair - his clothes weren't dry yet either. The gun didn't seem to have broken the skin, but Malcolm guessed he now had a concussion to rival JT's, and would have a hell of a bump for the next week or so.

"You, Mr. Bright, are supposed to be dead," the man over him said with a sardonic smile and a mocking point of his finger. His clothes and gun all spoke to the Albanian mafia.

"Well, you're not exactly the first person who's tried to have me killed. It's harder than it looks," Malcolm said.

"Truly a shame, my boy," the man said. Malcolm grimaced at the phrase, but hid it well. "Because when we're done with you, you're going to wish you died in that crash." The man stood up straighter from his place of hovering over Malcolm, and looked to his side. The other man - Gjokaj - was coming back into the cabin through the back door.

"Today was supposed to be easy," Gjokaj said. "It was relaxing, after the storm. Some of us were sleeping, other reading. Mob guys like peace and quiet too, you know. But then you and your friend had to survive and come snooping, and now, no one will ever find you."

Malcolm looked at what Gjokaj was carrying. The duct tape was pretty normal for any torture session, something that Malcolm was very used to. The brass knuckles were pretty standard too. He hadn't been at the mercy of them in a long time, but it had happened before.

The power drill, however, was very new.