Note: There are small bursts of action in this chapter. It was written this way intentionally. To those that have commented, thank you!! To those reading, thank you as well!!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The room was dark. Josh was numb from having sat for so long. He was crazy with boredom in so far as he was conscious of it. He tried not to start as the door swung open, tried not to stare as Sam was dragged in by his arms and laid directly in front of him. Josh said nothing, just watched as the body was turned over, as Sam met his eyes and slowly took in the chair and the bonds. He barely shook his head, unable to manage any other motion. His eyes said it all, but they also betrayed the pain and fatigue, and the desire to end it all. Something about that look tore into Josh's gut and twisted it. Sam wasn't one to give up. He was the optimist while Josh himself was the cynic. Sam wasn't thinking straight, that had to be it, or either he wasn't, because he had been on the verge of giving in himself. That angered him, and he raised his head. "What games now?"

"Your last chance. You will negotiate."

"I don't even know what I'm negotiating."

"We do not want war. It was brought here."

Josh frowned. "You. . .don't want war, yet you want a weapons exchange. . .and you treat us like this. . .are you insane?"

The man snarled and yanked Sam's head up by his hair. "You wish to see more?"

"I don't think he even feels it anymore." The truth in that statement disturbed him.

Sam looked up at him, his eyes tight with pain. He closed them, and went limp.

Josh tried to lean forward in his chair. Before he could say anything Sam lashed out with his leg, tripping the man who held him to the ground. He jumped to his feet and felled another with a blow to the stomach before stumbling into the wall. There were shouts from outside as the first man rose and flew at him, but Sam had a weapon, the rifle that had been dropped during the scuffle, and he swung the butt of the gun against the man's cheek with a yell, then did the same with the two that entered. Then he collapsed.

Josh was wide-eyed. "Sam!" He strained forward, "Sam, get up!" He was terrified the man had passed out, but Sam managed to push himself up and crawl over to Josh. "How the hell. . .no, I don't care. . .let's just get outta here."

"Working on it," Sam gasped as his vision blurred. He worried at the knot as Josh asked,

"Where are the others?"

"Gone. Dunno."

"Almost there, comeoncomeoncomeon. . ."

"Shut up, Josh." He blinked rapidly and fell to one hip.

"No! Nonono, wait, I swear I'll carry you outta here, but you gotta untie me first! You're almost there, focus. . ." Sam hid a groan and pulled one final time at the rope before collapsing. It was enough, and Josh instantly set to work on the other hand, flinging the ropes aside and kneeling beside Sam. "Sam!" Josh felt his forehead and threaded his arms under his friend's. "Let's go. There you go, up up, you sure no one's out there?"

"Didn't. . .see. . ."

"Okay, let's go before these goons wake up. Dunno how you found the strength to do that, man."

"Me either. Don't make me do it again."

"Desperation works well for you. See if you can get a bit more up, huh? Got a long way to go, I bet." They peeked out of the hut and bolted into the jungle behind them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The jeeps skidded to a stop. Rayns barked out orders and several armed men filed out, disappearing into the brush. Several more jeeps roared into view behind them as they saw the soldiers safely away, then took off to the next drop off point.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The man with the bandana flicked the cigarette from his fingers, watching the red arch it carved through the air. He blew the smoke, and as it hung in the moisture, he bent over the map. No recovery. It was as though the prisoners had been swallowed by the jungle, which was quite probable. Suddenly his lieutenant ran up to him, frantic, and started spilling word after word in rapid-fire speech, his eyes wide. Leather-face straightened and cast a wary glance to the foliage, and he realized the escaped men was now the least of his worries. He quickly called back his men and sent the lieutenant to fetch the bands searching in the jungle. His eyes tightened and he lit another cigarette.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"WAIT, wait, I gotta stop. . ." Sam pulled away from Josh and collapsed onto a tree, hugging the rough bark before sliding down into a heap at its base.

Josh nodded, too winded to say anything, and sat on one of the massive unearthed roots. He was surprised Sam had come so far without a rest, and decided fear and adrenaline was the driving force that pushed them to the brink of exhaustion. They still had no firm direction. There were no longer sounds of pursuit, although the men knew they were looking, they had to be looking, no one would just let their prisoners go and not look for them. The word 'prisoners' suddenly caught hold in his mind like a cancer, and he couldn't rid himself of it. They weren't supposed to be, or have been, prisoners. That game was for the elite forces, the people who were trained what to do under extenuating circumstances. They worked at the White House, for Christ's sake. They debated and yelled a lot and drank gallons of coffee and ate salads for lunch. They went to the gym and had a beer and a burger brought in for dinner, or Chinese, or a pizza. Instead of wearing their hearts on their sleeves they wore ink stains, instead of breakfast in bed they had drool spots on their desks. Alarms clocks didn't mean morning, it meant 'hey bucko, you had your two hours now get out of that chair and get your ass in gear', during which time they were trying desperately to remember what draft bill was what and who signed what and what was what without a who anywhere beside it, which who needed to be beside it, and for what reason. It took special people to make sense of all that, never mind figure out what to do about it. Being prisoners in a jungle didn't even enter into the equation. "Dammit," Josh muttered, "I'm a pencil pusher."

Sam was braced on his knees after experimentally trying to stand again. His gaze cut through hair spiked with sweat. "What?"

"I'm a freaking pencil pusher! I don't belong here!"

"Very astute, Josh, glad to see you're thinking clearly." Sam managed to set his back against the bark as he caught his breath. He felt he'd left his head behind him somewhere, and he wasn't too certain his arms were totally with him. One thing was for sure, they'd taken out his lungs and replaced them with iron rods that stabbed him every time he tried to take in a breath.

"I'm just sayin'. . .oh, never mind."

"Okay."

"No, really. . .it's just absurd."

"No, what's absurd is your sudden realization that this situation is absurd. But better late than never." Sam slid back down to a seated position.

"Remind me never to get kidnaped with you again."

"Okay."

Josh coughed, which caught Sam's attention, and he waved it away. "Um, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"What's that over there?" He slowly pointed to a large, green, moving. . .thing, something he was certain shouldn't be moving.

Sam raised his head, and allowed a small smile to play on his lips. "A monitor lizard."

"A what. . .JESUS CHRIST!" Josh was on his feet and trying his hardest to scramble up the tree as a huge, six foot lizard slid from the leaves and flicked its tongue at them.

Sam had frozen, not really afraid, but tense. Actually, the sight of Josh trying to climb the tree without the proper aid of branches was enough to make him laugh out loud, but that. . .wasn't a good idea. The lizard flicked its tongue again, tasting the air, and slowly rambled on.

Josh was panting even more than when they'd finished their last sprint. "Holy. . .cow. . ."

"Lizard."

"I thought it was gonna eat us!"

"Yeah, and I saw you were so concerned for my safety that you pulled me up the tree with you."

"What? You said what?"

Sam chuckled. "Never mind." He winced and doubled over, and straightened slowly. "Let's get going."

Josh nodded. "Yeah, after you, lizard man."

"Just call me lizard hunter, mate," Sam teased, and headed on, trying not to let on that the trees kept closing his vision, haunting him with their darkness. . . .

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

All of the soldiers had been deployed, such as they were. Toby sat quietly in the jeep as Rayns communicated to the trackers on the radio, studying the map, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Got another one of those?"

Ryans lifted his head and dug in his pocket. "Take what's left, I got another pack."

"Thanks." Toby flipped one out and, using Rayns' lighter, burnt the end to an orange flame, inhaled deeply, and exhaled in an impatient sigh. His stomach was turning and tying itself in knots. He tried his hardest not to bounce his leg, and wanted nothing more than to get out of the jeep and pace.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Go through this and act as though nothing has happened. When this is over I plan on scheduling a nervous breakdown, and Donna had better find a way to fit that into the schedule, cause its happening."

"You don't think one breakdown is enough?"

"I'm serious."

"I'm breaking down on the inside."

"No," Josh studied him, "you're just damn good under stress."

"I've had worse," Sam snorted. "These people don't know how to torture. Watch Toby sometime, dressing me down for not crossing my T's, making me rewrite four paragraphs I've already spent hours on. That's torture."

"You use a laptop. You don't have to cross your T's."

"A weapons exchange? What made them think you could negotiate a weapon's exchange?"

Josh shrugged. "I've done worse."

"What were they going to exchange for it?"

"I dunno, never got that far."

"Hope it wasn't us. Being passed from one country to another, human barter. . ."

"Be a great way to travel. Always said you don't get out enough."

"Is it possible there's a war going on that we don't know about?" Josh looked at him, incredulous. "You're right. What was I thinking."

"These are kids," Josh said. "They don't know what they're doing."

"Could've fooled me."

"They don't have a clue."

"And this makes me feel a lot better about their getting weapons. Besides, I think they're older than you think they are."

"Possibly."

Sam stared up at the thick canopy overhead. "We have no idea where we are, do we?"

"Well," Josh shifted and pointed to his right, "we came from that way," he pointed to his left, "so I think we should go that way." He suddenly whipped his head around. "You know, actually I think we should go this way, right now." He grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him back. The foliage behind them disguised a slight slope and they skidded down, ducking amongst the leaves.

"What the. . ."

"Shhh!"

"Josh. . ."

"For god's sake SHUT UP!"

Sam gave his head a shake, something he did too frequently, and it worried Josh as much as the crusted gash on his head did. They waited in silence. It was Sam who hissed and pushed Josh further into the foliage as the sounds of voices crept into the air, followed by the rustle of leaves being swiped aside. The two men crouched low.

Rapid speech shot over their heads like gunfire, each voice angry and tense. They kept their eyes to the ground, not daring to look up, to move, to breathe. The voices continued and a machete whistled through the air with a deadly sigh, half a foot above them. The cuttings floated around them, covered them, and it was a lucky thing that the man turned after he swung, allowing Sam and Josh to bury in further into the slope. The men hovered, looking around, sharp phrases slicing through the heat as other soldiers stood with weapons draped across their shoulders, or braced by their sides. If either Sam or Josh had bothered to look up, they would have seen that these soldiers were different, that the gleam in their eyes was more mature, more confident, more serious. The group moved on, not looking for two escapees, but caught up in their own game of cat and mouse, looking for kids with guns, forming their own plan of attack.

Josh hazard a peek as they moved on, catching only the movement of leaves closing around the retreating backs. "Close call."

"Too close." Sam raised his head and wiped sweat from his eyes with a dirt-streaked hand. "They must be circling, I think they're heading back to the shack," he said, mistakenly.

"So we go that way then." Josh nodded a direction and looked to Sam for confirmation. At his nod he patted the younger man's shoulder and rose hesitantly, feeling Sam at his elbow. "Looks good."

Sam nodded and rubbed his palms on his jeans. He clasped Josh's shoulder and hauled himself onto the makeshift path, and headed for help.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rayns skidded the Jeep to a stop and leaned out, signaling to the men behind them. They instantly shouldered their weapons and spread into the jungle like ants leaving their mound. Toby grabbed hold of the top bar to swing himself out but Rayns pressed him back. "Do NOT move from this spot, I don't care what happens. Stay put." He surveyed the area, and ducked as nearby fire punctuated his worry. Toby cursed and buried himself between the seat and dash board.

"Stay here!" Rayns disappeared into the foliage as the gunfire stopped as quickly as it began. Toby crouched, breathing heavily and cursing everyone one he could think of, including Sam and Josh. He waited for what seemed an eternity and ventured to peek over the dash. Nothing. Not even the air stirred. Sweat dripped into his eyes. Slowly he crawled out, remaining in a crouch, and looked around him. The ground spat as bullets tore at it, and he dove into the jungle.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rayns ran with men behind him, darting in and out of bushes and branches and roots, slipping along the surface. He wiped webs from his face, trying not to think of the massive size of spiders that would have created them. Hell, he thought out here the spiders were underground. It made him wonder idly just what he kept running into, and he pushed the thought from his head as he hit the deck.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Toby was hopelessly lost. He ducked and crawled, his legs aching and screaming, wanting to scream himself at the pain and desperation and absurdity of the Communications Director belly-wriggling along a jungle floor. Shots fired as they had done for eternity. He covered his head, then yelled as a figure literally crashed over him and hid in the foliage just ahead of him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Josh fell to the ground, his head buried beneath his hands as the air above him exploded in gunfire. He managed to find a way to squirm into the brush behind him that way, without looking up, just frantically working his knees and legs to pull himself back. His hearing was shattered as his nerves bent to the will of those holding the weapons. It was the last straw. He had no more gumption to fight or flee, he just wanted the ground to suck him in. He didn't even wonder where Sam was. It was the last thing on his mind and the dirt sprayed up around him, bullets pummeling everything but his body. He drove himself backwards, roots grabbing his legs and rubbing his knees raw. The air ripped open with the sounds of retaliatory gunfire, a higher pitched sound, and suddenly the bullets no longer hunted for him but for the opposition. It was enough of a change to make him raise his head and look around, but when new shouts and weapons were heard he buried his head again. Too many shots, that meant an increased chance of getting hit. But in the back of his mind he was wondering, calculating, the first shots were from the men in pursuit, the second, judging from the panicked shouts, were the opposing faction. But now, now the shots sounded clearer for some reason, different, and he realized that they were coming from a different direction and not closing in. A body came into view and fell before him, it was the first he'd seen since the shooting began. It jerked his brain from the fog, and his head shot up as he looked for Sam. A spray of bullets sent him ducking for cover once again, and he felt the last thing he ever wanted to feel. . .a hand on his shoulder. He rolled away, grabbing at a huge branch and aiming for the head of. . . "Toby?"

"Shh!"

"What the hell!" The stick fell from his hand.

"Shut up, willya? Rayns'll have my ass as it is, I was supposed to stay in the jeep, come on." Toby started to back though the bramble, one hand lingering on Josh's ankle. "Vacation my ass. I've had more fun writing speeches on eighteen reasons why we should save the lined dinner mole from extinction." He stopped as Josh pulled away.

"Wait." Josh was breathing hard and looking at Toby like he'd just announced he was running for the presidency. He wiped a hand over his face and started shaking, looking to his previous position and back to Toby with the utmost confusion.

Toby pressed his lips. He could recognize shock when faced with it. "Josh. We have to go. You have to trust me, we can't stay here."

"Sam?"

"I-I don't know, but we've gotta go. This place is full of guns and we've got guys out here, they'll find him."

"Toby, how. . ."

Toby shook his head. "No, not now." He grabbed Josh's arm and forced the man to meet his eyes, his clear, stern look snapping sense back into the frightened man. He held the gaze until Josh nodded and voluntary followed him. They scrambled for a short distance as the gunfire scattered and spread, then stood and ran to the jeeps, where Toby collapsed against the hood, gasping for breath. Josh joined him, and jumped as a tall man approached.

"Dammit, Ziegler! What did I say?"

Toby straightened and pointed to Josh. "Josh Lyman, meet Rayns." Josh extended a hand, still only semi-coherent, and jumped as Rayns merely hissed and pushed him to the back of the jeep.

"Are you okay? Are you injured?"

"What, now or over the past few days?" Josh sank against the back of the jeep with Toby firm at his side.

"Where is the other one?"

"The other one," Toby said firmly, "has a name, Sam Seaborn, my deputy, and if I'd of brought him back as well."

Rayns looked at Josh. "You were separated?" Josh met the question with a desperate tiredness in his eyes. "Okay. Stay here, is he injured in any way?"

"He's. . .weak. . .been ill. . ."

"Okay." Rayns patted Josh on the shoulder and merely glared at Toby, who sank to the ground beside Josh and pulled out a canteen. As he hurried off, Toby turned to Josh and caught him as he slid sideways to the ground.

"Okay, Josh, easy, you're okay now." He braced him, holding the canteen to his lips. He took in the bruises, the cuts, the pale face. The rope burns on his wrists. He took in all in with a glance that made him ill with rage. Josh drank slowly, not even having the strength to swallow. He went limp in Toby's arms.