Once again, I am sorry for the long wait! I am sure you are tired of the constant delays and I don't want to even start to offer any excuses.

Just - thank you all for your patience!

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Chapter 11: Against All Odds

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Jackson had survived - and he had failed.

He had dragged himself from the endless sea into her arms; he was so tired and so cold, but he was alive. And he could not feel any joy about the fact. It had all been for nothing. He had failed. He had held their rescue, their help in his hands, it had been so close, and still, it had all been pointless. No one had answered his calls. They were truly alone.

He was alive, but he would not get back home. No one had answered; no one was coming to rescue them. His ears were still full of radio static. He could not let himself believe in the desperate wish that someone had heard him over the radio; he could not bring himself to hope again. The disappointment was too bitter, too hard to bear a second time. It was time to face the truth: he had failed them all.

Jackson could not look Melissa in the eye. She was so warm against him, her arms tightly locked around him, her hold unwavering, but she did not know yet, did not know that he had failed her. She was rambling that they needed the get him to warm up, and she sounded so worried about him, but she did not know yet. He took the clothes she brought and dressed, because her concern, her attention, was too much. She wanted him to be warm again, but he doubted he could. He had failed them - he told her so.

When he told her, she hugged him again, and he was too confused and too tired to protest that he did not really deserve it, and she was saying that it was okay, when it really wasn't, and he was too tired to cry, too tired to care anymore. He was cold.

And then he finally realised that they weren't alone in the beach anymore; one of the thugs had caught them unaware, was standing not two metres away from Melissa, holding a gun pointed at her back. The man had walked straight up to them, for Jackson had not paid any kind of fucking attention to their surroundings.

He should have been expecting it. Nothing has gone right so far, why would it start now? And God, couldn't this nightmare already end?

Melissa's heart thudded against his chest, and a small shuddering gasp escaped from her mouth. They were rooted to the spot, arms tight around each other, like deer in the headlights, frozen by fear, waiting for a crash that was inevitable. Jackson could see clearly the man standing behind Melissa, even his smirk was visible in the moonlight. The man was tall with broad shoulders, clad in dark jeans and a sweater, his hair cropped short. At first glance, just an ordinary man. If it weren't for the unpleasant look in his eyes, there would have been nothing remarkable in his face. However, meeting the penetrating gaze was something most people had the common sense to avoid; it was uncomfortable, almost cruel. Also, there was the small matter of the black handgun in his hand. Jackson felt their chances at somehow getting away from the situation diminish from miniscule to nonexistent.

"This fucking island is seriously overcrowded - any more people hiding somewhere?" The man's voice was gruff with annoyance, but still held the amused tone.

Should I do something?

The man had asked a question, but Jackson could not think of anything to say. He stood still, fingers clinging to Melissa's shirt, wanting so much to not to move. Melissa seemed as reluctant to let go as he was, and fleetingly he thought she is afraid to turn around, and he could certainly understand that. If they broke their hold on each other, if they moved, Jackson would have to face the situation, he would have to do something. And he felt too exhausted, too numb to even think, let alone to act.

I don't know what to do.

And he should have been panicking already, terrified out of his mind of everything that could happen next, but he couldn't seem to raise any energy to do that; his sluggish brain seemed quite slow on the uptake.

Melissa shifted and suddenly, her arms were withdrawing, she was backing away, and now he was panicking. For a second, he considered just holding onto her, forcing her to stay in her place, but she was already moving, and he was too slow and his fingers too numb to hold on. His arms slid aside, and at the last moment, when she was turning to face the man, he seized her by the hand.

She came to stand next to him, her hand squeezing his.

"My day is just getting better and better." The man levelled his gaze on Melissa, his cold eyes roaming slowly over her whole body. Jackson felt Melissa stiffen, and he couldn't blame her. Hell, now he was getting terrified out of his mind. He had to shake the numbness away, to somehow figure something to say, to do, for it had become terribly clear: there was no way the man would let them go unharmed or even alive. And the biggest threat wasn't against Jackson anymore - the man was focusing all too much on Melissa.

"Well? You're mute or something?" Jackson could practically see how the gears turned in the man's head, how he came quickly to the all too real conclusion that two shivering, miserable looking teenagers posed no threat to him, but were something he could toy with. "You're here all by yourself?"

"There's just us." Melissa sounded composed and calm, even when her body quivered with tension, and Jackson couldn't help but feel proud of her.

"I bet. Having a little romance in the moonlight?" The man was leering at them, his thin lips spreading into a suggestive grin. "I could think of a thing or two to do in a private, dark beach."

Jackson's anger was instant; the warmth it was spreading through his frozen veins and limbs a welcome tingling sensation. What a bastard. He hated the man fiercely, his helpless anger wiping the earlier apathy away, banishing the numbness he had been drowning on. What a miserable bastard. The man - and Jackson himself. For who else but he had dragged Melissa into this whole mess? Who had thought of the brilliant plan to call for help, giving her in a silver platter to armed fucking criminals in the process. Jackson had led her straight into danger.

When it was obvious that they weren't going to respond to the taunting, the man sneered, "Alright, let's not waste time on small talk then. Straight to business - or fun, depending on which angle one looks at it."

He is going to hurt us.

Oh God, he had to think of something. Anything. He had led her to this, and now he had to get her out of it - he had to. Or he could never live with himself - that is, if he got out of this alive.

"Start walking." The man kept the gun aimed at them with his right hand and with the left pointed onwards where the beach stretched towards the far edge of the bay. "Go on."

Hesitantly, they started to walk in the sand, hand still in hand, side by side. Jackson was conscious of the man right behind them, his heavy breathing audible over the roar of the sea.

Where is he taking us?

"Where are we going?" Melissa's tone was oddly steady, lacking any obvious emotion. Jackson stole a quick look at her face; she was firmly keeping her gaze on the jungle ahead, her features too expressionless to tell what she was thinking.

"Not far. Keep walking."

The man was not lying; they had moved only about a hundred metres, when Jackson saw their destination. It made him confused and afraid in equal measures. They were approaching the wooden rowboat that was still tied to the palm trunk.

Is he going to take us to the ship? He tried to smother the bark of laughter rising in him. I wish I had known; he would have saved me the trouble of the swimming trip.

They walked to the boat, Jackson's heart hammering harder at each step.

"Alright, here we are." The man sounded cheerful as they all stopped at the edge of the jungle, right beside the boat. "Now, as sickeningly sweet as the holding of hands is - let go."

Melissa was the first to loosen her hold on him; slowly she drew her hand away. Jackson was cold.

"There is rope in the boat; fetch it and tie your boyfriend to the palm tree."

Jackson's thought process skidded to a screeching halt for one awful second; then the panicky thoughts surged forward with full force. He is going to hurt her. He had to do something, there was no time, and he could not let himself to be tied up - I will not be able to help her - he could do nothing if he was tied to a fucking tree, and he had to do something right now.

Melissa was already moving, and he watched helplessly as she slowly reached for the rope they had left earlier that evening at the bottom of the boat. He had never seen her face so timid. All too soon she was turning back to face them, holding the brown coil in her hands.

Adrenalin was starting to gather in his veins; he clenched his fists. Not yet. Melissa took a step towards them, looked at him - soon - and hesitantly stopped. The man shifted impatiently - not yet - pointed his gun to her direction saying, "Come here dar-"

Jackson lunged at the man, crashing into him with his whole weight, screaming "Run!", his only thought, get the gun get the gun get the gun -

Once again, he was fighting for survival.

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They were going to be there soon.

Despite the darkness and the thick jungle closing them off from the rest of the world, Eric knew exactly where they were. The bay and the bunker were close, somewhere to the left, hidden behind the untamed mass of greenery. However, they were steadily walking straight ahead, towards the clearing and the buried money. It was dark and damp and at the best of times Eric would have thought twice before taking this little midnight walk in the jungle, but he knew he would not get lost. He had the route memorised. And they were going to be there really soon.

He had no idea what he was going to do when that happened. Well, he had some kind of idea; if everything went well, he would have to do nothing. He would give the money to Cole, and the man would let them go unharmed. Or maybe they would end up somewhere tied up and possibly gagged, but he wasn't picky, he was going to accept anything that didn't involve death or bodily harm.

Cole wasn't stupid; why risk getting on death row for murdering teenagers (and children), when they could not tell anyone about his criminal activities or his tendency to take hostages? Although, they weren't in the US anymore, and hell if he knew to whom this island belonged to, and if they were big supporters of the capital punishment. Their bodies wouldn't be probably found till years later if ever at all.

Okay, think something else - something positive.

Well, he was not alone.

No, he was not alone, because a sobbing Lex had been forced to come with them. The terrified ten year old was stumbling after him, still tightly clenching Eric's hand. And at the moment, as little as Eric wanted to be alone with Cole, he wanted even less for Lex to be there with them.

I did not mean for any of this to happen.

He had not meant to draw Lex into this; no, he couldn't have known that Cole would threaten the others and drag Lex along for the ride. And he hadn't meant to keep the silence about the money as long as he did, but he hadn't known what to do, and really, he had never wanted to endanger Lex.

They were nearing the clearing, and with a bang Eric remembered that at that very day he had sat there, dreaming of what he would buy with the money. It was still the same day, or maybe the early hours of the next day, but still, that moment in the clearing was a lifetime away. Everything had started there; he had heard the men and thought (what a laughable thought now) that they were finally being rescued. He wished he had never heard them, never ran straight to them like a world-class idiot.

He wished for a lot of things.

He wished he had never stumbled upon the bunker, never found the money and never took it, never boarded that plane to Palau. He wished himself at home.

Nothing I can do about that now.

Regrets and guilt would not help him; he had to be calm and just go with the flow until a better option presented itself.

Suddenly the humid, almost suffocating vegetation parted and they stepped to the clearing. Eric stopped and draw a deep breath. Cole walked a small circle, examining the place, his gun and attention never leaving his hostages. Then the man came to stand in front of Eric, a satisfied expression on his face.

"So this is where you buried my money." Again the sharp emphasis on the word mine, making Eric grit his teeth. "Start digging." Cole's tone was commanding, and his gaze settled hard on his reluctant companions. "The faster you dig, the sooner the little boy here gets back to his sister."

Eric disentangled himself from Lex's hold carefully, wanting to say something reassuring to the boy, but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't come out as an obvious lie. He wanted to say that they were going to be fine, that soon Lex would be with Daley again, and nothing bad was going to happen to him. The only truthful thing struggling to come out of his mouth was the desperate I am sorry his mind was whispering. But saying that would be admitting that he was at fault here and maybe he was, but he couldn't - not now -

So he said nothing.

He walked to the crooked tree that had died standing, withering and rotting away until all that was left was the hollow trunk and dry, lifeless branches. He dropped to his knees to the ground and without further pause dug his hands into the wet soil.

No sense in delaying the task; the sooner it was done the better.

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This chapter was a little shorter than I intended, but I figured you wanted the new chapter sooner rather than later. In the next chapter we see how Jackson fares against Larry and what happens when Eric digs up the money. So, good stuff ahead!

As always, I crave for your reviews!