A flight attendant opens the door of the plane. People begin walking out as she greets them all at the door.

Everyone grabs their bags from the overhead compartments.

"Well, we made it," Nathan said.

"Paris," said Melissa. "I can't believe we made it."

"I just can't believe we got on a plane again," Jackson said, coming up behind Melissa, putting his hands on her shoulders.

_______________________________________________________________________

"Viola," the waiter says after pouring Melissa, Nathan, and Jackson some drinks, then walks over to another table.

"Wow. It's weird being here, huh? We've finally completed a puzzle." After a pause, Jackson said, "There's still something missing."

After a small silence, Nathan raises his glass. "To Taylor."

"Yeah," Jackson says, doing the same. "To Lex."

"To all of our friends that can't be here," Melissa said.

The three clink their glasses together.

Jackson said, "Cheers."

"Cheers," Melissa repeated.

Each took a sip of their drink.

Nathan quietly snorts after swallowing.

"What?" Jackson said.

"If you would have told me six months ago that the three of us would be sittin' here, having a drink…"

Jackson chuckles. "Yeah."

"I don't know…I mean, sometimes it just feels like the two of you are the only ones that can understand," Nathan said.

In the background, a man plays his acoustic guitar, beginning to sing Rocky Mountain High in French.

"You were right, Cody," Nathan continued. "It did skip us. It was a design. And we beat it. We won."

"I think the only thing we've won, Nathan, is a chance at a full life," Melissa spoke up. "A chance that I would never waste." She took Jackson's hand.

"Yeah." Jackson sighs. "There's just something…something I can't figure out."

"What?" asked Nathan.

"About the design…" Jackson started.

"Jackson, just let it go, alright?" Melissa said.

"Just hear me out, okay?" Jackson said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it, revealing the plane schematic he drew six months ago.

Melissa clears her throat.

"Oh my gosh," Nathan said, not wanting to talk about this subject.

"Just listen," Jackson said. "Now, the path of the explosion determined the order of our deaths, right?" He was pointing to each seat marked on the paper, tracing with his finger. "When I intervened and saved Nathan, it skipped him and went to the next person in the path. It went to Eric." He pointed to Eric's seat, then to Melissa's. "And then, it was Melissa. But I intervened and saved her, so it went to me. But, in my case, no one intervened, right? I was thrown from that power line by the explosion. So-"

"So, why did it skip you, right?" Nathan interrupted, already knowing that's what Jackson was going to say.

"How do we know that this wasn't exactly what was meant to happen? That, out of everyone one Flight 180, you, me, and Nathan were meant to live?" Melissa said. Nathan pointed to her, agreeing, as if "See?" Melissa continued. "Maybe that was the design all along."

Nathan spoke up. "Or you could still be next."

"Shut up, Nathan." Melissa glared at him.

"What? I didn't make up the rules. I mean, somebody's gotta intervene before Death can skip death. Cody proved that three times: the plane, with me, with you. For all I know, it could circle back and get us all again. But I am the safest butt hole in the world because you're still next." Nathan pointed to Jackson's seat on the paper.

Jackson considered. He now noticed the song playing behind him in the outside dining area. He turned back, watching the singer, becoming paranoid.

"Can we just stop talking about this? Let's figure out…" Jackson wasn't listening to Melissa anymore.

He looked at a yellow and brown meat truck. A man viciously stabbed a huge piece of meat with a hook. He heard a noise and looked up. A pipe was rolling down the rails on a building under reconstruction across the street. It hit some glass, which shattered as it fell to the ground. A huge flame roared behind him. He quickly looked back to see a man lighting a street lamp with a match. A sudden breeze blew by, extinguishing the flame.

Jackson's elbow knocks his glass over. He looks at the schematic, breathing heavily. On the paper, red wine is spilled on his name. He stands up, startled, almost knocking over his chair. "I'm gonna meet you guys back at the hotel, okay?"

"Just wait. I'll go with you," Melissa said concerned, reaching for her jacket and purse.

"No, no! Just stay here, okay, Melissa? Just stay here, alright?" Jackson held up his hand to stop Melissa.

"See? It's true," Nathan said, turning back in his chair, watching Jackson walk off. "Told you that you were next, man."

"Stop it, Nathan," Melissa warned, wondering what was wrong with Jackson. "Jackson, wait."

"No, Melissa. Stay there," Jackson said, turning to them. "Stay away."

Melissa looked at one of the restaurant's windows. She saw the reflection of a bus, but when she turned around, there wasn't one in sight. She pauses a beat, taking this under consideration, wondering if it was a sign. "Jackson!" she screamed.

Jackson turned around before stepping onto the street. A bus flew by him, inches away. It honked its horn, almost hitting a car while trying to dodge Jackson. It swerves out of the car's way, hitting a pole, barely missing a man standing by his produce stand. The pole glides through the air, twisting, then hit's the hinges holding up a lighted sign that reads, "Le Café Miro 81." The sign wobbles, bulbs shattering, causing sparks. It breaks in half, now reading, "180." It is connected to the roof of a building by two ropes. The sign swings directly at Jackson

"Jackson!" Melissa shrieked.

Jackson stood, frozen, as the sign inched closer. Nathan punched Jackson to the ground just in time, then stood up, both boys breathing hard.

"I told you that you were next," Nathan said, pointing at Jackson.

"Then it just skipped me," Jackson looked up to Nathan.

"So who's next?" Nathan asked.

Jackson looked behind Nathan, eyes flaring. The sign was still swinging on the ropes, coming back toward them, moments away.