Toby stared out over the street. He felt sick. The anger that had been keeping his fear in check was subsiding, and it was all he could do not to become consumed with worry. He'd continued to walk the streets for sometime, still questioning, still desperate, determined to do something besides sit around like everyone else on God's green earth seemed to be doing. Leo's promise of action left him irritable and wanting. People shouldered past and he tried not to grab out, clench their shoulders, shake them until their teeth rattled to their ankles and ask what kind of government would allow this to happen and not give a fuck. He turned to the small sidewalk café behind him and caught sight of a news paper abandoned on a table. With apologetic nods to the patrons he shoved past the tables and picked it up, staring at a small article in the corner: DIABLOS TO RETURN The article went on to describe the events and background of a military man, facts that Toby knew, and he swallowed as events started to fall into place. He jumped as his phone rang.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The shadows deepened in the corners, making the room appear larger than it was; pulling the walls away from them in a floating limbo state. Josh's head was back against the wall. Sam's head was in his lap. Hours had passed and Sam had stopped talking. But not Josh. He kept on, discussing the latest congressional debates, his feelings for Amy that confused him, and then some, and wondered aloud who was going to take the pennant. He tried to ignore the fact that his friend's breathing had become shallow, that his skin was pinched and dry, his eyes hollow. He'd never seen the effect of a rapidly spreading poison, and didn't want to think of the man having his life and vitality sucked from him, his body folding in on itself as it vanished. He knew there wasn't much time. He'd never accept it. "I never told you, but that. . .night. . .you know what night I mean, I heard you. They were wheeling me into the room, and you said, 'I'm here, Josh.' I heard you. I knew everyone was around me, I knew I was hurt and scared, and I heard your voice. Above everything else, I heard you. I guess that sounds sappy, but right now I don't care. You've been. . ." he took a deep breath and swallowed.

"You've been such a good friend. You don't deserve this. You're supposed to live in California and go surfing on the weekends and volunteer for a boy's club, teach them to play basketball. You know? Get married, have kids, grow old, write, but always keeping a finger on the political vein." He allowed himself a smile. "Can't get that out of you, I bet. Working at the White House. It stays with you, gets in your blood. The smell of the halls, that irritating golden glow of the State Room, the sickening blue of the press room, who designed all that? I don't remember." He glanced down, and saw that Sam's eyes were open, listening. "Your office is a pigsty, by the way." He felt the attempt at a chuckle. "Look, the point is you still have a lot to do, so don't crap out on me now. I didn't crap out on you after Rosslyn, and you don't dare crap out on me now, you hear me?" There was a faint nod as eyes closed, and something about the way they did threw Josh into a panic. "Sam. Sam?" The body stilled. Josh grabbed his shoulder. "Sam! Come on, dammit. I said don't crap out on me. You hear me? Goddammit, don't do this!" He lay Sam on his back and put his ear to his chest. No. . .okay. . .yeah. . .it was there, but so weak. . . "Breathe for me. Come on. Do it. In. . .out. . .in. . .out. . .come on! I'm not doing this by myself, I'll hyperventilate, and I doubt you're in the position to pull me out it so come on. In. . .out. . .in. . .out. . ." he kept on, coaxing him, talking to him, holding him as the shadows lengthened. . . .

The morning came too bright, too cheery, too everything. Josh groaned and raised his head. There was a heavy weight on his legs. He looked down and saw blood spattered on the ground. "Sam?" He was afraid to move, afraid to draw a breath. The stillness closed in around him, soaked through him, numbed him; the sudden pain in his chest was as unbearable as the feeling of emptiness. A million thoughts crashed in on him at once, life without Sam, the White House without Sam. . .this wasn't happening, it wasn't happeningitwasnthappeningitwasnt. . . "Oh-oh god," he whispered, and his hand hovered over the body, waiting. . .and he heard a sound, a sound that made him gasp and lay back with his eyes closed, then opened his throat and jerked out pure, delighted laughter.

Sam was snoring.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Josh? Wake up."

The whisper was right in his ear. Josh twitched and his side clenched in a spasm. He jerked awake. "Sam?"

"You're on my leg. Get off."

Josh jumped up and leaned over his friend. "Sam! Wh-are you. . .wait, don't move!"

"Couldn't if I wanted to." Sam's voice was as weak as his body. Turning his head was an effort.

"Hang on, I gotta, ha-hang on." Josh scrambled to where the food and drink had been left, never touched. There was barely enough water in the jug to fill a small cup. He sniffed it, then touched a dab to his lips, tasting carefully, and rushed over and set it down beside Sam. He carefully lifted the man's head. "Okay, here. Drink this, nonono . . .it's water! It's water, come on. . .that's it. . .easyeasyeasy! Slow down! Shit. . ." he set the jug down and turned Sam on his side as he coughed up what water he was able to take. "Come on, you gotta hold it down, you threw up your insides."

"Probably why. . . not staying. . .nothing to hold it."

"Oh, ha-ha. The tears are rolling." And he did feel like crying. It surprised him.

Josh gently lay Sam back to the ground. He looked around, then sighed and tore the bottom of his shirt and used the fragment of material to wipe Sam's face. "Look, next time you nearly die, try not to sweat so much, huh? And the babbling, I thought I'd never shut you up. Some of the things you said. . ." he stopped as he was fixed with a blue fevered gaze. "You okay?"

"You heard me?"

"Huh?"

"You said you heard me. When you were in the hospital."

"OH! Yeah, yeah, I did." Josh lowered his gaze. "You heard that?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Look, this conversation. . .what is it?"

"Oh god," Sam groaned and tried to roll back over on his side away from Josh. "Cramp." His sides and stomach ached from the constant retching, his muscles strained beyond normal use. But it wasn't just that. He could remember the black panic he felt when he was held down, the crushing weight, realizing there was no way out of it, and the liquid poured into his mouth, he could remember his friend's desperate yells as a dangerous roar in his ears. The anger in those yells, the grief. . .he closed his eyes, forcing the sound out. He remembered. . . "Josh. . . why didn't I die?"

Josh gave it some thought, his brow furrowed. "I don't know. Maybe that stuff wasn't as lethal as we thought. I think they wanted to scare us."

"Again?"

"Yeah."

"Good job."

"Yeah."

"I feel like shit."

"You're dehydrated," Josh explained gently. "But I think you got all that crap out of your system."

Sam sighed quietly and curled in on himself. "I can't take much more of this, Josh," he confessed in a light whisper. "I can't. We gotta get out of here."

"I know." Josh rubbed Sam's arm and leaned back. "But right now you're not going anywhere."

"Deja Vu."

"No kidding. Go to sleep." He didn't have to say it twice. The sound of Sam's snores made him smile and lulled him back into a dream state.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I'm telling you, Leo. This Diablos person is behind the kidnapping. That's why they're so caught up in their own affairs, and it explains why they suddenly have warring factions." He glanced around at the crowds of people shuffling past, totally oblivious to what was happening. "I don't trust that inspector either." Toby walked back to the hotel, adrenaline propelling him double-speed.

"Toby," Leo's voice was full of warning, "I can't do anything. Not yet. I've notified the authorities and they are doing what they can, in fact an agent should be there shortly before they lock down the airports. His name is Rayns and he has your room number, so go wait for him. That's all we can do now without more to go on!"

"This is insane."

"I know. But our hands are tied. Unless there is proof that they've been taken by these factions we have to assume they are stuck in the local bar. Never mind bringing Diablos into this."

"We're well over forty-eight hours, Leo! How many people disappear in a bar for that long?"

"I know!" Leo yelled back. Toby could hear a sigh as he tried to regain control. "It's a tourist place, Toby. They just now have justification to start a search."

"Which they aren't following because of this pending lock down! I mean, who the hell puts a tourist spot between two warring factions?"

"They've been dormant for the past twenty years. No one expected any conflict, and I'm willing to bet these factions are merely kids trying to get their kicks. Both governments have come forward in their support and both have agreed to cooperate in any way possible."

"They're not getting their kicks, Leo. These kids are either bucking up against Diablos, or he's getting ready for something."

"Toby, what paper did you read?"

"I'm. . .not saying." He didn't want to admit it was the local equivalent of a tabloid.

"Right. Toby, you do realize if Diablos took action we would know about it, especially after this past year?"

"Leo, we LOST him for nine months! For all we know he's been here the entire time! Now how about sending someone to help, only don't send them here, I'll meet them at the border."

"Toby, if you'd just shut up and let me talk. . ."

There was a heavy sigh. "Yeah, sure, sorry."

"We have agents on the way. Once Rayns arrives you are to travel to the north border, understand? Rayns knows where to go."

"Leo, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Just. . . don't be a hero. You're still due out on a plane asap. Just tell these guys what you know and get the hell outta dodge, will ya? We need you here, your time is up."

"Got it Leo, thanks."

"Toby? It'll be okay."

"Yeah." Toby clicked his phone shut, squared his shoulders, and headed back inside the hotel.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Josh was used to the door banging open and being pulled out. He was used to the questions, the hits, the threats. He had watched twice as his friend faced death.

He was numb.

And this time when they pulled him out and pushed him into the other building he didn't fight, didn't struggle. He'd just patted Sam's arm who tried to protest, tried weakly to pull Josh back, but could only watch as his friend was tugged away. Even that no longer angered him. His thoughts were marred by pain and fear. He honestly wanted to die, and wanted Sam to die with him, rather than go though this any longer. He was walked into the room and was sat in a chair, his hands bound to either side of the seat, and he was left there. Alone.

He didn't hear voices. He heard nothing but the stillness of the hot air and knew the trees and plants around him were sweating in the heat. He was lethargic, ill, incoherent. The lack of good water was taking its toll, and even more so on Sam. The man wasn't able to re-hydrate after his sickness, and what he could keep down was sweating away, just like everything else. He expected to peek outside one day and see green running and dripping against the blue sky, marring the colors, blending into a dark hell. His head fell back and he jerked it aright, twisting his wrists against the rope, feeling the sharp barbs poke the tender skin. And he sat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"We have something." It was probably the best greeting Toby could have heard under the circumstances, introductions be damned. Rayns walked into his room, and sounded as excited as Toby suddenly felt.

"Nice to meet you. Well?" Toby closed the door behind them and watched as Rayns walked to the small table in his room and whipped out some papers.

"I've had sources investigating the situation here for some time, expecting a coup of sorts. Turns out these factions are planning an attack, and I think your friends are caught in the crossfire."

"What sources? And where are they?" Toby leaned his hand on the table in his room, then backed away as Rayns stood and handed him a paper. Toby eyed it, then studied it closely. "This-it-is this Josh?"

"You tell me."

"I think so, yes, what is he doing. . . oh my god." Toby scrubbed a hand over his face and tossed the photo back on the table, feeling ill.

"This picture was taken yesterday. They are alive, though whether they are in good health remains to be seen."

Toby jabbed the picture his finger. "Who-who are these people?" He turned, then rounded on Rayns. "What the hell are they doing? What do they want?"

"Guns."

"Guns." Toby gave a sarcastic laugh. "I'm sorry, they kidnap a communications officer. . .to negotiate for guns. . ." he sighed in realization and backed away.

"Actually I believe Mr. Lyman was going to negotiate. Mr. Seaborn was insurance."

Toby was staring. "I don't like the way that sounds."

"If Mr. Lyman doesn't comply. . ."

"Okayokayokay I get it." Toby raised his hand and sighed in frustration, walking over to his window and looking out. "I am never letting Sam pick a vacation spot again. Never."

"With all due respect, you can't blame Mr. Seaborn for this. This area has been growing in tourism for the past eight years. There has never been an incident, nor a cause for one."

"And yet you patrol the borders?"

"Only recently."

"I say that has an effect on tourism."

"I dare say you're right." Rayns jumped as Toby angrily slammed his hand against the wall. "Mr. Ziegler. . ."

"Toby. And the other two are Josh and Sam, if you're going to save their asses may as well get informal about it. If nothing else it saves the syllable count."

"Toby, I have to meet the patrol on the border, and we are going to get your friends. Now I need you here. . ."

"I'm coming with you."

". . .to be a liaison in case something goes wrong. . ."

"Get someone else. I'm coming."

"You can't." Rayns actually sounded sympathetic.

"Dammit, don't you think they want to see a familiar face when this is done? I'm not staying here by the phone, I'm going to make sure you yahoos get the job done! You got that?"

"Toby, your flight is due out. . ."

"Fuck the goddamn flight!" Toby was face to face with Rayns. "My friends are out there. I'm coming."

Rayns chewed the inside of his cheek, then nodded. Toby let out his breath as Rayns made a phone call. "Get your things, whatever needs to be loaded in the van. We're outta here in ten."