Disclaimer: I own nothing

"We're not gonna get outta here are we?"

One simple question, and Doug really thought that no was the answer. But he didn't want to tell Tom that; he wanted the other man to believe that they were going to get out of here. Because a part of Doug knew he had to; another part knew he had to get Tom out of here. But now he was starting to think that that was never going to happen. Yet there was still a small chance; there was always a chance for anything.

"'Course we are Tommy. They can't keep us here forever, ya know?"

"Wouldn't they just kill us then?"

Doug didn't respond; what did you say to a friend who had just told you they were probably going to be murdered? "Of course they might!" didn't really seem like the best thing to say, so Doug just kept his mouth shut.

"Doug?" Tom spoke up. "They will; they're just gonna kill us, right?"

"Don't say that, man. Just stop talkin' about it," Doug responded, not wanting to talk about that.

"Yeah, sure," Tom muttered. He was once again staring out the window; he was once again imagining the freedom he would never know. The freedom he had had once, but was no longer entitled to. Because he was stuck here until he died or was killed. To him, there was no way of getting out of here besides death.

"We're not going to die here, Tommy," Doug spoke up, not believing his own words. "I'm gonna get you outta here, I swear."

"Yeah, okay," Tom muttered, knowing that the only way Doug could keep his promise was if he were to kill Tom. Death was the only way out, after all.

"Yeah."

Tom was sitting, staring out the window, once again blocking out the world around him. It was better this way, he knew, not being able to hear or see anything besides his dreams. Because in his dreams he was happy and free. Without them, he was alone and trapped. And he didn't like being alone. Trapped he could deal with , but he didn't like being alone in this place; being alone in this place scared him.

"Tommy," Doug spoke up. "Tom, you hear that?"

Tom wasn't listening to Doug, and only had his attention focused on the older man when he was shook by the shoulder. "Tommy, someone's out there, shooting."

"What?" Tom asked, not quite sure he had heard right.

"Outside, c'mon."

Doug stood up, then bent over to help Tom stand as well.

"I'm fine," Tom protested, pushing Doug away. He wasn't, and nearly fell when the grip was gone. If Doug had not grabbed him once again, he would be on the ground. With an arm around Tom's waist to steady him, Doug headed to the window, the younger moving beside him. Doug looked out first, and was sure he was imagining what he saw out there.

Rebels.

Rebels were emerging, running out of the trees, shooting at anybody who got in their way. Soldiers shot back, and the gunfire increased. Bodies fell, and more rebels came. Maybe Doug could get Tom out of here, after all.

"Doug, is that-"

"Yeah Tommy, c'mon."

Doug had just moved away from the window when they heard gunshots outside the door. Tom tensed beside Doug as they moved slower, closer. They were beside the door now, and had just looked through when sparks flew at them. Tom grabbed onto Doug and they pushed back against the wall, into the shadows. Here they waited; for Death or for freedom, they were not sure. But they would know soon enough.

The door was kicked open and Tom gripped Doug tighter, then they moved out from behind the door and into the door frame. It was a rebel.

Both officers stopped, staring wide-eyed, as the man pointed his gun at them, ready to fire. Tom knew this was it; had know all along he would die here. And now his thoughts were going to be proven.

Then there was another voice, female. She was calling out, "Ganchi, Ganchi," and both officers knew who was pointing the gun at them.

Ganchi turned his head quickly to the side, and Tom looked at Doug, relief flooding his features. Maybe he wasn't going to die, after all.

She started talking to him in Spanish again and with one quick glance back at the two prisoners, he ran off, a scowl on his face. Now Tom relaxed slightly, and loosened his hold on Doug's neck a little. Not completely, because he still needed the support to stand, but enough so that his nails were no longer clawing into the other man's neck.

Then La Bizca was there, worry etched into her features. "Are you okay," she asked, voice laced with a Spanish accent.

"Are you alright?" Doug counter-asked, worry evident in his tone. He and Tom were moving out of the room now; he and Tom were finally free. Right when they were both ready to give up, they had gotten out; Doug had gotten Tom out.

"I was lucky," she responded, raising her arms and backing away so Doug and Tom could fully move out of their cell. "We must hurry," she added, as the three started walking down the hallway.

"How did you know we were in there?" Doug asked, trying to walk and hold Tom up at the same time. It wasn't hard, with Tom being smaller, it was just easier to walk without someone holding onto you. But Doug wasn't about to complain; he was going to get Tom out of here no matter what.

"We didn't," La Bizca started, "War at (?) has been come for long time."

"Wha-" Doug started, but was interrupted.

"We had a man inside, he told us you were here," La Bizca continued. "We came for another prisoner and some guns," she added as they turned a corner and headed down some stairs. They passed a body and Tom stared at in shock, moving behind Doug. The latter reached for Tom as he moved behind him, helping him towards the stairs. Tom was still staring in awe at the body when La Bizca yelled, "We must hurry, come on!" Doug reached out a hand to his friend and Tom once again had his arm wrapped around the other man's neck. Doug knew Tom could probably walk on his own now, but the limp Tom had worried him; he was afraid that without his support, the younger man might fall down the steps. With an urgent order in Spanish, the officers quickened their pace, Tom taking one last glance at the corpse.

They continued down one more set of stairs, Tom stumbling slightly, and came to a corridor with more dead bodies. Some wore the soldiers' uniforms, and others were clearly rebels. Doug quickly pulled Tom through the mess, not wanting his friend to see too much, but Tom couldn't seem to pull his eyes off of the bodies. "I think I'm gonna be sick," the younger man muttered and Doug stopped.

"Tommy, look at me, okay?" Doug started, wanting to get his friend's attention focused on him. "Just don't look at them, okay? We gotta get outta here, and if you're sick, that'll just stall us, 'kay?"

"I know, it's just. There's so many. I can't help it."

"I know, I-"

"We must hurry," Came La Bizca's sharp order, and Doug smiled weakly. "Just think Tommy, the faster we're outta here, the faster you get your cookie."

"Think I just want the beer now," Tom chuckled. "I could really use a beer right now."

"Then let's hurry so we can get some, huh?"

"Yeah," Tom agreed.

"Atta boy!" Doug responded, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Let's get going, then huh?"

Both men continued on, following the young woman, and after passing through one more hallway and down one more flight of stairs, they were outside. They were finally free.

And neither really believed that they actually were.

"We're free now Tommy," Doug exclaimed. "Told ya I'd get you outta there, right?"

"Yeah," Tom whispered silently. Out here, were there was more light, Doug could clearly see how pale his friend was. And he was about to stop and ask if Tom was alright when gunshots littered the air. The older man dove to the ground, pulling Tom with him, as La Bizca shot at whoever was shooting at them. There were other rebels there as well, so soon any soldiers still alive and shooting were dead.

"It is okay now," La Bizca told the officers and Doug slowly stood.

"Tommy?" Doug asked, looking down at his friend's form. He wasn't moving and Doug was afraid he had been shot.

"Tommy, oh god, no," Doug mumbled. No way Tom was dead. Not now; not after all they had gone through to get out here, to stay alive. There was no way he could be dead.

"Please, no," Doug spoke, kneeling down next to the limp form. He rolled the body over and...

The question mark: I don't know what La Bizca said...

TBC...