The Soap Opera Cliche Challenge
Sep. 6th, 2004 12:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsA lot of people helped me with this, so thanks go to everyone who encouraged me when I needed it, to the people who offered to beta read for me![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
call_me_loca,dreamtrance, jaciesplace, clumsygyrl,ninjetti75 digital_diva and kathe with special thanks to interlock who continues to rock my world. You're all wonderful, thank you.
If you're in the mood for a cliched, cheesy story, read on ;)
They’ve flown hundreds of times, thousands even, but it never seems to get easier. Chris still has that moment of fear when ice encases his body and his hands clasp the arm rests in a white-knuckled grip. The fear remains as they rise from the ground, swirling through his body as he sits rigid, forcing down the panic that battles to escape. It never does. Chris has years of practice at self-control and remains outwardly calm while inside he’s a mess. The others know; they always do, but it’s never a big deal. Instead he always has someone at his side, an arm brushing against his, a hand casually resting on his own. Familiar contact acting as anchors until they’re levelled off and the fear can be restrained.
It’s not that he doesn’t know they’re safe. He’s read the statistics. He knows there’s more chance of being run over by a bus than plummeting from the sky in a plane. The problem is no amount of statistics can soothe his jagged nerves, only pills or alcohol or the touch of his friends can make the fear manageable. Statistics are nothing but numbers that slide like quicksilver through his mind.
“We’re in the air,” Lance says softly.
Chris blinks his eyes and relaxes a little when he realises they’ve levelled off. Lance squeezes his hand once before bending forward, pulling a bag from under Justin’s seat. He stays bent over, pushing things aside before zipping the bag closed and sitting back up. Chris frowns at the magazine in Lance’s lap. If Lance wants to read, it means Chris needs to find other entertainment, not that there’s much choice in the tiny plane.
Twisting so he can look around, Chris takes in the place where he’ll spend the next two hours. Joey’s in the seat opposite, legs stretched into the aisle from his single seat. A book lies unopened on his lap while he sorts through a small pile of cds. Chris knows he’ll be asleep before he hears the first song or reads the first page. It’s inevitable; they’ve been working non-stop for months now and already the steady drone of the engines is making Joey’s eyes droop. Chris watches until Joey pushes the cds aside and rests his head between the window and seat, giving in to the inevitable.
That leaves JC and Justin, who are sharing the seat in front. JC’s a write off, asleep even before take off, but Justin’s a possibility. Hopefully he’s awake and ready to resume their Gameboy session. Anything but having to sit and listen to Joey’s soft snores and the rustle of pages.
Chris unbuckles his seatbelt and stands, peering over the seatback. Disappointed when he sees Justin fast asleep against JC’s side.
“Why don’t you sleep too?” Lance asks, resting his magazine in his lap.
“Because I’m not tired, moron,” Chris says, and sits back down, tapping his fingers against his leg. He feels antsy and confined, feelings that feed on each other until he can barely stay still. “Why do we have to do this thing anyway? We’re supposed to be on vacation.”
“We are on vacation. Four days on a tropical island. Three hours work singing at a birthday party. What more could you want? The pay’s a bonus .” Lance holds up a hand when Chris opens his mouth. “We’d be fools to turn this down.
“If we didn’t have to fly there in this death trap, maybe.” Chris indicates the plane with a wave of his hand. “The least they could do was provide a bigger plane. These six seater things freak me out.”
“You know the runway’s too short for bigger ones.” Lance picks up his magazine, clearly indicating the conversation’s over. “Now shut up and get some sleep.”
For a moment Chris considers being extra loud and annoying just to show he can’t be told what to do. Then decides against it when Lance reaches down - still reading his magazine - and pulls a pillow from his bag, dropping it on Chris’ lap.
“Sleep.”
Smiling a little, Chris rests the pillow on Lance’s shoulder, then settles down for a nap. Sometimes doing as you’re told is the only thing to do.
~*~*~*~
“Chris.”
Chris startles awake, heart pounding as he picks up on the fear Lance is trying to hide. Opening his eyes, he sits up straight, then swears as the plane dips suddenly, throwing him against the back of Justin’s chair.
“Get your belt on.” Lance reaches for Chris’ arm and pulls him back, then starts to fasten his own belt, tightening it as much as possible. “Are you fastened in?”
Chris looks around as the others answer in the affirmative. Joey attempts a smile but it’s obvious he’s worried as he grips the seat in front. All Chris can see of Justin and JC are the backs of their heads but he knows they’ll be fastened in too, so finishes pulling his belt as tight as it can go.
“What the hell’s going on?” Joey yells and as if in answer the intercom suddenly crackles into life.
We’re experiencing some turbulence. Keep your seatbelts fastened, and we’ll be out of it as soon as possible.
“No shit,” Lance swears softly before murmuring something under his breath.
Chris can’t hear what he’s saying and doesn’t really want to. He’s not an idiot and knows this is more than turbulence, especially when the plane lurches forward again, dropping fast. It feels like all his nightmares have become reality and terror grips his body, brutally stripping away any self-control.
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
Justin sounds on the verge of panic and far younger than he has for years. Hearing him so scared cuts through Chris’ own panic and he instinctively starts to go to him, reaching for his belt before Lance grabs his hand.
“Don’t be stupid. You need to leave that fastened. Justin, we’re not going to die, just hang on, we’ll be okay.” Lance leans forward, resting his hand on Justin’s shoulder as he looks at Chris. To someone who didn’t know him he looks calm and unruffled, but Chris can feel the way his fingers are digging into his, and can see the fear in his eyes.
“We’ll be okay, Bass,” Chris says confidently, hoping desperately he’s correct.
All passengers assume the crash position. I repeat all passengers assume the crash position.
Chris feels sick as he hears the words, then the world flips from under him as they plummet down, the screech of the engines the only sound. As he leans forward he sees Lance’s lips move, beyond him glimpses Joey bent over and looking terrified. The last thing he feels is Lance’s hand clutching his own. Then nothing.
~*~*~*~*~
Chris wakes slowly and painfully. Opening his eyes, he wonders why he’s lying on sand for a split second before the memories return in a sickening rush. He tries to push himself to his knees but falls back on his side as the pressure makes his wrist erupt with agony. Fighting against the urge to just lie still, he takes a deep breath and props himself up on his elbow as he looks around.
He could be in paradise, waves lap against white sand while the sun shines high in the cloudless sky, reminding Chris of countless beach vacations in his past. There’s one difference though. Those vacations didn’t feature the ruined remains of a small plane in the crystal water, or clouds of black smoke billowing in the sky, and they definitely didn’t feature a still body, lying half-submerged in the water.
The sight sends adrenalin through his body, and Chris struggles to his knees, crawling on both knees and one hand. He keeps the other tucked against his chest, using every coping technique he’s ever learned to push past the pain movement brings. Time seems to slow as he struggles along the shoreline, then stops altogether when he realises the figure in the surf is Justin, and that he’s not moving.
“Justin,” Chris tries to yell, but makes little more than a croak at first. “Justin!” This time he manages more volume, but still Justin remains motionless. On the verge of panic, Chris crawls closer and for the moment the fear takes control as he stops, afraid to touch, frightened of feeling icy flesh. He takes a ragged breath and reaches out a hand, pressing shaking fingers against Justin’s neck. For the longest time there’s nothing and Chris frantically tries to remember the basic first aid he was taught so many years ago. Then, like a miracle, he feels a movement, shallow but there.
“Justin. Justin, wake up,” Chris begs as he gently pats Justin’s face. Still he doesn’t move, but at least he’s alive and accounted for, unlike the others. Looking at the still smoking plane, Chris makes a decision and starts to drag Justin further up the beach, tugging until only his feet remain in the surf.
“I have to go now; I’ll be back soon,” Chris strokes his hand over Justin’s hair, brittle with dry sea water, then forces himself to stand, knowing crawling will take too long. Managing a painful hobble, he cradles his broken wrist against his chest, reaching the plane drenched in sweat and breathing hard.
Up close, the wreck looks even worse. Resting in deep water the nose is hidden and the nearest wing is cracked almost in half, pulling a sheet of metal away from the side. Chris tries to see inside the hole, shielding his eyes against the blinding sun with his good hand, but the interior is nothing but shadows.
“JC! Joey! Lance!” Chris yells, praying for an answer, or someone to wave or jump from the plane, anything but this chilling silence. His prayers aren’t answered, and he knows the only thing he can do is wade closer. The water’s warm when he steps into it, but he hisses as it hits his skin. Looking down he realises his jeans are torn and he's trailing blood behind him as he walks, and that that means his legs must be cut. He doesn't stop though.
Waist deep in the water when he reaches the plane, Chris stands near the broken wing and looks inside. The smell of blood makes him gag, and he rests a hand against hot metal, steadying himself as he fights against the urge to vomit. It’s the sound of tapping that finally makes him look up again, stealing himself before he looks inside. At first all he can see is darkness, but eventually shapes take forms and he recognises JC bent almost double in his seat, hair hanging down and hiding his face. One arm is exposed, streaked with blood that drips into the water that is filling the front half of the plane.
Lance should be close. His seat and Chris’ were next to the hole, and his bag is hooked on the torn metal under JC’s seat, contents spilling from the top. His magazine is floating in the water, but there’s no sign of Lance, and Chris feels panic rear again.
“Chris, is that you?”
Joey’s voice, sounding weak and afraid, breaks into Chris’ thoughts, and he looks past Lance’s seat to see Joey huddled in his own. At first he looks okay, frightened but unhurt. Then he turns and Chris sees the gash across his forehead, oozing blood that slowly drips down to his shirt. Bright red against tan material.
“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” Chris asks, despite being able to see he’s far from okay.
“I’m fine.” Joey blinks as if he’s trying to clear his vision as he dazedly looks around.
“Can you get out? I need your help.” Chris debates with himself about making Joey move without knowing if he’s hurt, but he has no choice. They need to get JC free and find Lance. Now.
“I think so,” Joey replies, and struggles with his seatbelt, tugging at the clasp with shaking hands.
Chris watches, feeling helpless as he tries how to get inside despite the razor sharp metal. The buckle suddenly comes free, and Joey slowly moves forward in his seat, causing the plane to rock with his movements.
“Slowly,” Chris says softly and he looks from Joey to JC, who still lies motionless. Joey nods and inches forward until he’s sitting on the edge of his seat.
“Can you see Lance?”
Joey seems bewildered at Chris’ question, looking around before shaking his head. “He’s not out there?”
“Not that I can see, he’s probably on the beach like Justin and I were.” Chris tries to sound encouraging, but it’s hard, especially when his stomach feels like lead at the knowledge Lance is missing.
“You’ve found Justin,” Joey exclaims, and for a moment he looks happier before the reality of their situation hits again. “He’s not….is he?”
“He’s okay,” Chris glosses over Justin’s condition, pushing aside guilt until he has Joey and JC on dry land and Lance has been found. “Can you free JC? He hasn’t moved since I’ve been here.”
For a moment Chris thinks Joey’s going to break down on him as he finally notices JC. Then he leans forward, reaching for the seatbelt. It seems to take forever to get JC free, but eventually he falls sideways as Joey carefully lifts him into the aisle. “I’ve got him and he’s breathing. Thank you, God.” Joey cradles JC on his lap and buries his face against wet hair before looking up. “Can you steady him as I pass him through?”
“Wait a second.” Chris carefully touches one of the razor sharp edges of the metal, feeling the cutting edge. Imagining JC and Joey going over that makes him cringe, and he starts to take off his shirt for padding when he sees the pillow Lance gave him jammed under a seat. Seeing there’s no way for Joey to reach it, especially holding JC, Chris jumps, grabbing for the pillow. He smiles once in triumph when he manages to hold onto it, then gasps in pain when his arm hits the edge, slicing into his skin.
“You okay?” Joey asks worriedly, and Chris nods, determined not to give into the fresh pain.
“It’s only a scrape. Come on, you need to get out.” Positioning the pillow, Chris knows how inadequate its protection is, but it’s better than nothing as Joey lifts JC passing him feet first across the seat. Chris uses his arms to hold JC’s bare feet, his good arm underneath and the broken one on top. Painfully slowly they inch backward until Joey’s holding JC over the edge of the plane.
“Are you sure you can hold him?”
Joey sounds doubtful and for good reason. JC’s a dead weight and Chris is far from steady, but desperation grants him strength and he nods his head. “I’ve got him.”
He does have him. Even when JC’s draped over him like a lead weight, all Chris does is stagger slightly and watch as Joey sits near the edge.
“I’ll go and take C to the shore, then come and help you.”
“I can get down myself, you look like you’re ready to drop any moment.”
Chris opens his mouth to disagree, then shuts it when a wave of dizziness hits. Closing his eyes, he waits it out, then looks back at Joey. “Be careful, okay?”
Then starts to walk to the shore. He tries to look back, worried about Joey, but JC’s heavy and it’s taking all Chris’ strength to walk through the water. Looking back isn’t an option.
When he hears a loud splash from behind, Chris is torn, needing to look and his heart races as he measures the distance to shore, debating how long it’ll take to get to JC to safety and back to Joey.
“I’m okay, I slipped.”
Chris relaxes when he hears Joey’s shout, almost dropping JC with his relief. Instead he walks the last few steps until he’s ankle deep and carefully lowers JC to the ground, before falling to his knees with a grunt. He takes a moment to catch his breath, hunched over a little as he forces back the pain, then focuses totally on JC. Pushing back his hair, Chris sees a huge bruise that spreads across his forehead and cheek as well as cuts probably caused by flying glass. There’s no other obvious injuries, not that Chris can check properly, at least not yet.
“He okay?” Joey falls to the ground next to Chris and hisses when he sees the bruise.
“I think so,” Chris knows Joey hears the uncertainty of his words, but they both pretend it’s not there. It’s the only way they can cope just now, by pretending things will be fine. “Help me get him into the rescue position.”
They carefully move JC, working together until he’s on his side. The last time they did this JC had giggled at every movement, filling the room with his laughter as Chris tickled and the first aid instructor glared and muttered about wasting his time. Now JC’s totally still, his body limp as he’s manoeuvred into position. Chris would do anything to hear a giggle now.
“It’s not funny when you need to do it.” Joey remarks, and Chris knows he’s remembering that time too. When first aid classes were fun, planning for a disaster that would never happen.
“Are you okay?” Chris asks, forcing thoughts of JC’s laughter from his mind. It’s a stupid question, but Joey takes it for what it is.
“I’m okay. Just have a bit of a headache.” Joey looks at Chris, indicating his arm. “You need to get that fixed up.”
“I will, later. Let me see your head first.” Chris uses Joey’s arm to pull himself up and looks closely at the deep cut. “That’ll need stitches.”
“Which I’ll get where?” Joey asks, tone sarcastic as he bats away Chris’ hand.
“Justin’s got that travel sewing kit Lynn gave him. He’ll fix you up in no time; give you a choice of thread colour even.” Chris bites back a grin at Joey’s theatrical wince, then turns serious again. “We need to get to J, and find Lance. Or look for Lance first.” It’s an almost impossible decision. Do they spend time looking for Lance and leave Justin? Or get Justin first knowing Lance could be in real danger?
“J first,” Joey says without hesitation. “You know where he is at least. I don’t like the idea of leaving him alone while we’re looking and who knows how long we’ll be searching for”
“Okay,” Chris agrees. He’s relived in one way. It hurt to think about leaving Justin alone for even longer, but at the same time, he’s aware that time is something Lance may not have.
Joey stands. “Are we bringing Justin here or going to him?”
“We’ll bring Justin here. We’re closer to the trees here and can move there when you get back. Watch C, I’ll be back soon.”
“Wait,” Joey grabs Chris’ t-shirt. “You watch, I’ll go for Justin.” Joey shakes his head when Chris tries to argue. “There’s no way you can carry him. Just tell me where he is, and I’ll go get him.”
Joey’s right and Chris knows it, so he points along the beach where he left Justin.
“He’s over there, a few minutes walk near the sea, I couldn’t pull him any further.”
It seems like an admittance of failure, and Chris sinks back to the ground as Joey walks away, heavily favouring his left side.
Chris watches him until he’s becomes a blur, then turns. Wiping the blood from his hand on his pants, he gently lies it palm down on JC’s chest, needing the reassurance that someone alive is close. Squeezing shut his eyes, he pretends JC is lying asleep on the sand. He’s wearing a gaudy shirt and board shorts with flowery flip flops on his feet. There’s a drink at his side and headphones clamped to his ears. He won’t be bloody and bruised with clothes ripped and destroyed, and he definitely won’t be lying still as death, face pale except for the bruising.
The problem is, he is, and Chris knows it. He knows reality too well, has taught himself to look beyond the fantasy to the plain facts beyond, and this time the facts make him more frightened than he ever has been. He realises his friends could die, and Lance could already be dead. Brutal cold facts that make Chris shudder with ice-cold fear.
That fear still clings when Chris opens his eyes, coating his skin and bone deep. In a way it’s familiar, the terror he feels when he’s unable to protect his friends and family, and it’s that familiarity that saves him now. Long practice allows him to push it aside to concentrate on the now, and not the what if.
“Hey, C. It’s about time you woke up. You’ve been sleeping forever.” Chris pushes back the curls that are plastered to JC’s forehead, trying to remember the facts about unconsciousness he was forced to remember so long ago. He swears with frustration when the memories stay hidden, concealed by a layer of pain that makes deep thinking impossible. Placing his hand back in its former position, needing the reassurance of feeling breathing, he talks to JC. “Come on, you lazy ass. I know you’re tired but you need to wake up. How am I supposed to have an adult conversation with you like that? You know the others are infants.” Chris can’t help waiting for JC to respond even though he knows he’ll be disappointed. Which he is, but that doesn’t stop him talking. “Oh hey, I’ve got blood on your shirt. Good thing it was ugly anyway.”
Still resting his palm against JC’s chest, he turns, needing to look away from JC’s still face, and is relieved to see Joey walking slowly back, Justin leaning heavily against his side.
“Justin!” Scrambling to his feet, Chris hurries to meet them and ducks under Justin’s free arm, helping to hold him up. None of them speak as they stumble to JC, where they all collapse in a heap.
“You okay?”
It’s still a redundant question but Chris can’t help asking it. Justin looks far from okay. He’s battered like them all and one of his sneakers is missing, something Chris can’t help noticing as he looks him over.
“I’ll be fine, just have a bit of a headache,” Justin replies, and he looks over at JC. “What’s up with JC?”
“He’s being a lazy ass, aren’t you, C?” Chris pats JC’s arms gently, then looks back at Justin. “He’s been like this since we got him from the plane.” He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t have too; he can see Justin understands the seriousness of the situation by the set of his face.
“Lance?”
Chris looks at the sand, counting the small dots of blood, delaying actually saying the words. “He wasn’t in the plane, or next to you or me. I’m going to look for him now.”
“I’m coming too.”
“And me.”
Joey and Justin speak together and Chris knows they’ll go whether he agrees or not. At least one of them will, the other needs to stay with JC.
“Someone has to stay here.” Chris looks from Joey to Justin as they seem to have a non verbal conversation that ends with Joey sitting back down.
“Hey, C. Chris and Justin are going to go find Lance. You lie here and get some rest. They’ll be back soon.” Joey holds JC’s hand and looks back up. “When you find Lance, tell him I’m waiting to kick his ass for scaring us.”
“You’ve got it,” Justin says, and he walks away, rubbing at his eyes.
It’s hard to leave but Chris don’t have a choice. They’re one down and until Lance is found, there’s no way any of them can relax. Pain has to be blocked and hidden strength used until they know what’s happened, one way or the other.
“I think we should split up,” Justin says. He’s looking along the beach, distractedly rubbing his eyes still. He looks calm and collected, but he’s not, that’s visible with a glance, even without his red rimmed eyes. The last thing Chris wants to do is leave him, but it’s a good idea to separate. They have to when every second could count.
“I agree.” Chris tries to imagine how the plane landed, and how far someone could fall if they were torn out. He’d woken up to the right of the crash site, same for Justin. Lance should be there too, but he isn’t and Chris tries not to imagine him trapped underwater, desperately gasping for breath, eyes wide as water floods his lungs.
“I’ll check around the plane again. You should go that way.” Chris hasn’t taken a step before both Justin holds out a hand.
“I’ll check round the plane, you take the beach,” Justin sounds insistent and he carefully touches Chris’ wrist making him wince. “There’s no way you can go poking around one handed. Leave this to me, okay?”
“Fine.” Chris shares a look with Justin and his expression tells everything. They’re both thinking the same things and expect to find Lance too late. It’s a nightmare situation and neither want to subject the other to the pain of discovery, but in this case practicality has to win out, and that means Chris takes the beach.
Chris and Justin split up when they reach the plane. Justin wades into the water without a pause, eyes fixed on the wreck. Chris wants to stay and watch but forces himself to move on. Rubbing at his eyes, he squints against the glare of the sun on the ocean, wishing he had his glasses, and a million other things, nearby.
Its ten minutes after leaving Justin that Chris sees it, or at least he estimates it is as his watch – despite its claims of being unbreakable - is stuck at one thirty, and has been since he woke. At first he thinks it’s nothing but a reflection on the waves, but as he comes closer, he makes out a splash of colour against a half submerged rock. Dark red, like Lance’s shirt would be once it’s wet.
Forcing himself to hurry, Chris nears the rock then enters the water, heart pounding as he imagines Lance lying so close. Then stands still, numb when he realises it is Lance’s shirt, but that’s all. Pulling it free, he holds the sodden material in his hands, twisting it as he tries to calm his racing heart.
“Chris!”
The shout fills the air, Justin at full volume. It sounds urgent but there’s no desperation or grief, and for the first time Chris allows himself to hope, a hope that’s vindicated when he hears Justin yell again.
“He’s alive!”
Chris manages the journey back to the crash site in a few minutes, relief making his body light as he runs despite the constant pain. When he finally sees Justin sitting with his arm around Lance, Chris runs again, needing to be close. They look up at his arrival, as he sinks to the ground, desperate to touch.
“You been hiding from us, Bass?” It’s a weak but instinctive joke, covering the fact Chris wants to cling and never let go. He settles for a careful hug, burying his face against Lance’s hair followed by a quick kiss against wet skin.
“I found him inside the plane; he suddenly appeared after I’d been looking around for a while, frightened the life out of me.” Justin says, and squeezes Lance’s shoulder.
“You were frightened,” Lance says and for a moment Chris sees remembered terror in his expression before it’s replaced by blankness. “I woke up and none of you were there.”
“They couldn’t see you,” Justin sounds stricken and Chris knows exactly how he feels as Lance continues with his story.
“I was under the spare seat. I don’t know how I got there but that’s where I was. I shouted for you all but no one came. It took me a while to pull myself out. I was jammed good. Then when I did no one was there. I even dove to the cockpit to check; only the pilot was there.”
“The pilot. I forgot about him.” Justin sounds sickened. “Is he…”
“He must have been underwater since we crashed. There was nothing I could do.”
Lance stops talking, and Chris can only look at him in horror. Lance was there the whole time. Jammed under a seat and they left him to die. The knowledge of that’s like a kick to the stomach, making him feel sick. Then there’s the pilot, Wayne, who shook their hands and showed Joey a picture of his daughter as they waited for the plane to refuel. Chris hadn’t even given him a second though, and now he’s dead.
“I’m sorry.” Guilt weights heavy as Chris looks at Lance who seems frozen in place as he stares down at the sand. “I shouldn’t have left you.”
“It’s not your fault; I know you’d never leave me on purpose.” Lance looks up and reaches for Chris’ hand, linking their fingers together. “I thought you were all dead.”
The pain in his voice is obvious, and Chris helps the only way he can right now, hugging Lance and offering his comfort and love before pulling back a little, needing Justin to be close too.
They sit in a three-way embrace before Justin says, “We’d better get back.” Then stands, toeing off his sneaker and abandoning it without a backward glance. Chris and Lance follow, and they walk back to the others, needing to be together, knowing they’ll need their strength to survive.
~*~*~*~
“Now that we’re all together, we need to know how badly everyone’s hurt.” Joey looks around the circle they’ve made after carrying JC closer to the trees, his gaze lingering on JC, who’s still lying unconscious. “No bullshitting, either.”
“I think I might have broken my nose,” Lance says, and he gingerly indicates the bridge of his nose. “I can’t feel anything else major, just cuts and bruises.”
“I’ve got a major headache and feel like I’ve been rubbed over a cheese grater.” Justin lifts his shirt, exposing his belly and chest mottled with bruises and areas that are rubbed raw. “I think I’ve broken some toes too.”
“You’ve what?” Chris questions sharply, and looks at Justin’s toes that are hidden under white socks. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I’ve danced on broken bones before. Walking’s no different.” Justin says flatly, then points to Chris’ arm held against his chest.
Chris doesn’t reply at first, knowing what Justin says is true - both parts. Then he shrugs, letting it go. “It looks like I’ve broken my arm again. The rests cuts and bruises. Joey?”
Lance looks like he’s going to speak, then stops when Joey talks.
“My side took most of the impact I think. It’s kind of hard to breath deep but mostly I’m fine. It’s C I’m worried about.”
As one they all look at JC, and Chris feels the worry multiply inside of him as he imagines what could be wrong.
Justin moves so he can pick up JC’s hand. Running his thumb in small circles, he seems lost in thought, then suddenly looks up. “He’s going to be fine, aren’t you, JC? He just needs to rest.” Justin sounds convinced and looks at them in turn. “We’re going to be fine. We should have died in that crash, you all know it, but we didn’t. That has to mean something.”
It’s confidence built on shaky foundations, but it’s enough to encourage Chris. They might be stranded and hurt, but they’ll be fine, they have to be. It’s a feeling that seems to be shared by the others as they look at one another, saying nothing but still knowing they’ve made a vow to survive, whatever it takes.
“Let’s see your arm,” Lance breaks the silence and shifts so he’s at Chris’ side.
Reluctantly, Chris extends his arm, trying to suppress a cringe when Lance runs his fingers along it.
“He needs some kind of splint. We’ll have to find a branch or something and things to use as bandages.” Justin carefully lets go of JC’s hand to join Lance. “We should be able to use the stuff in our luggage if we can get to them. Then we can fix each other up.”
“You a doctor or something now?” Chris asks sharply, using impatience to hide his pain.
“Nope, still just a superstar, but I’ve seen it on tv a million times, that has to count for something.” Justin says seriously, then gets to his feet, only showing how much he’s hurting when he uses Joey’s shoulder to heave himself up. “I’m going to the plane to see if I can get our stuff.”
“Wait, you’re not going alone. I’m coming.” Within seconds, Joey’s standing next to Justin. “You two wait here with JC.”
It’s pointless to protest, plus Chris doesn’t think he could get up again. He feels weak, cold and shivery; something Lance seems to notice as he carefully moves closer as the others leave.
“Justin Timberlake, MD. Graduate of the school of medical reality shows. I think we’re screwed.” Chris smiles briefly at Lance and lets himself be pulled close. In reality, he knows Justin’s more than capable of taking charge, and they all have working medical knowledge gathered from years of patching each other up on the go.
“I’ve been trying to work out where we are, but I’m pulling a blank,” Lance says bleakly. “If I knew, I’d be able to work out how long it’ll take rescuers to arrive. As it is, I’m guessing, and even then it depends if a distress call was sent out. It could be hours, or weeks. I just don’t know.”
“Quit that.” Chris grabs Lance’s fist, stopping him punching the sand again. “You don’t have to know; none of us do.”
“Yes, I do,” Lance protests, and he pulls his hand free. “Look at JC, look at you. What’s going to happen if we have to stay here for weeks?”
“For all we know, we could be on a resort island and there’s a club full of half-naked beautiful people behind those trees.” Chris goes to nudge Lance before thinking better of it and winking instead. “They’ll love to see that Bass ass. You’ll be the star of the place.”
“I suppose they’ll have drinks in frosty glasses with tiny umbrellas too?” Lance questions with a grin that he drops within seconds. “Damn it Chris, you’re not supposed to cheer me up. We’re in trouble here”
“I know we are.” Chris says seriously, and he lays his hand on Lance’s leg. “That doesn’t mean you can’t smile.”
“I suppose,” Lance admits reluctantly, then falls silent again as he rests his hand over Chris’, linking together their fingers. They stay like that until Joey and Justin appear, soaking wet and carrying three bags and what looks like a small branch from a tree.
”We couldn’t get to J’s and JC’s stuff, but we got the rest.” Joey drops the bag he’s carrying and sits down carefully.
Justin does the same, then unzips Lance’s carry on and empties it out. They quickly sort through the contents, laying out clothes to dry and making a small pile of snacks. The cds and player are thrown to one side with the magazines, books, and the small bag that Lance pulls from Justin’s hands with the words those are personal.
The other bags get the same treatment until they have a pile of things that are useless, a pile of food and clothes, and pillows and blankets spread all around. There’s also medical supplies, monster-covered band aids, antiseptic cream and assorted pills that are woefully inadequate for their needs.
“Who’s first?” Justin takes charge again, looking around, then stopping when his gaze reaches Chris. “You’re up, Kirkpatrick.”
Chris is reluctant. He remembers the last time he broke his arm and he had good drugs and a clean hospital then. Now all he has is Justin, a branch snapped in two, and one of Joey’s shirts that’s being ripped into ragged lengths. Which is scary but at the same time this is Justin, and Chris trusts him completely to try his best, and always has.
“Get to it, Dr Timberlake,” Chris jokes, then smiles reassuringly at Justin who looks nervous as he sits cross-legged with his supplies at his side. This isn’t going to be easy for any of them, but they’ll get through it, like they always do.
~*~*~*~
“We need to get some firewood before it gets dark.” Lance looks toward the trees then up at the sun. “It’s going to get cold soon, and it’ll help if any animals are roaming.”
Chris looks at the tree line too. None of them have explored that way yet, they’ve been too busy tending wounds and settling jagged nerves. They’ve spent time resting, needing too be close, but Lance is right, they need a fire, and soon.
“I’ll go.” Chris shakes his head when it looks like Justin’s about to protest. “I can still pick up wood.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Justin protests, standing himself. “Someone needs to stay with JC.”
Joey’s volunteers to stay, and soon Chris is walking between trees that tower above his head and through plants that catch on his legs as he passes. Things seem muted under the tree canopy, and they all talk in whispers, afraid to disturb the peace.
“Look, up there,” Justin says, and he points upwards. “There are coconuts up there.”
They all look up, and Chris can just see what Justin can, coconuts near the top of the tree.
“At least we won’t starve.” Lance sounds unenthusiastic and Chris can’t blame him, imagining a diet of nothing but coconut.
“It means we won’t dehydrate, either; that’s the most important thing. There’s coconut milk in the older ones but the immature ones are supposed to have a lot of water inside.” Justin doesn’t seem to notice their stares, just keeps looking up. “Problem is, those kind are right at the top. We’ll have to climb.”
None of them question Justin’s words. They all know random facts like this; it’s a side effect of a diet of tv from all around the world mixed with weeks’ worth of waiting, reading anything at hand to keep away boredom.
Justin looks like he’s about to take a leap at the tree at any minute, so Chris grabs his wrist before he moves. “Do your monkey impression tomorrow; we’ve got bottled water for tonight.”
“Okay,” Justin agrees. He sounds torn between relief and reluctance but moves on anyway, bending to pick up a long stick.
It doesn’t take long to collect armfuls of firewood. The ground is covered in dry brush and branches from the palm trees which they gather up and carry back to their make- shift camp. Once there, Lance and Justin carefully arrange the wood, stepping back and looking at the unlit fire when it’s done to their satisfaction.
“We need a flint or something,” Justin says, looking around. “I don’t know if there’ll be flints on the beach, and even if they are, we won’t be able to see in the dark. Or we could try using a stick and string…”
“Or you could just use this.” Chris hands over the lighter from his bag, keeping his expression blank as Justin looks from the lighter to him.
Justin glares for an instant and opens his mouth as if to comment, then shakes his head, leaning forward and cupping his hand over the flame until one of the dry sticks ignite. It doesn’t take long for the whole pile to light, and everyone stares toward the flames that crackle and shoot sparks into the air.
“Does anyone want water?” Justin asks, and he picks up a bottle of water from the pile. Uncapping it, he takes a drink, then passes on the bottle. The water’s warm when Chris drinks, but he has to stop himself from draining it all. They have three bottles of water and five cans of soda and that’s it, unless Justin’s immature coconut fact is right. Lance passes the bottle back to Justin, who carefully tips small amounts on JC’s lips until there’s nothing left.
Food-wise, they’re slightly better off. Chips, candy bars, and bags of nuts lie in a pile, and Lance takes a Snickers bar, holding it up to Chris. “Want to share?”
“Not really, but I’d better.” Chris replies, and takes some when Lance holds out the opened chocolate. It takes wonderful and he chews slowly, alternating bites with Lance. Joey and Justin are doing the same.
“Do you think rescue is on the way?” Joey looks uncomfortable when they all look at him, crumpling the M&Ms packet in his hand. “You’re all thinking it.”
“I don’t know,” Lance says slowly. “I’ve been thinking about it, but it depends on so much. If a distress signal was sent. Did the pilot contact anyone before we went down? They’ll have logged the flight plan and missed us by now but…” He hesitates, looking at Joey, then back to the fire. “There are so many tiny islands in this area, it would take forever to search them all. They will find us, I just don’t know if it’ll be in time.”
Lance keeps looking at the fire, obviously hating being the one who had to lay down the facts. Chris moves closer to him, resting against his side, watching the shadows flicker across the faces of his friends. Justin looks exhausted, heavy-eyed and half-asleep against Joey’s shoulder. His foot rests on a bag topped by a pillow, three of his toes strapped together by thin strips of material – Lance’s favourite shirt if Chris is any judge.
Joey seems lost in thought, eyes unblinking as he stares toward the ocean. Looking at him makes Chris’ stomach clench, as he recognises the cloud of desperation that’s descended now the activity of the day is over and thinking is the only thing to do.
“You okay?” Lance asks softly, and he turns a little so he can hug Chris with one arm. Doing so makes the shadows shift on his face, deepening the black eyes caused by his broken nose.
“I’m okay, tired. Worried about JC.”
“Yeah, me too.”
They both look over at JC. It’s been almost seven hours now and he still hasn’t woke up. Apart from his chest moving, he looks dead, and Chris spends long minutes listening to him. One breath in, one breath out. Making sure JC’s really alive.
“I’m going to get some shut-eye,” Joey says, looking at them through the flames.
Chris watches as he lays the sleeping Justin down next to JC, covering them with a selection of shirts and pants. Then he lies down himself, hissing with pain as he props himself up on one side before pulling a shirt over his shoulders.
“You want to sleep?” Lance asks. “I can stay up and keep the fire going.”
“You’re going to sit up all night worrying about where we are aren’t you?” When Lance doesn’t reply, Chris knows he’s right and sighs softly, knowing nothing he can say will make him change his mind. “If you’re staying up, so am I.”
They both stay up through the night, close together they sit tending the fire they don’t dare let go out. They can’t, because as terrifying as this situation is now, in the dark they know it’ll be worse.
~*~*~*~*~
“I’m going to walk down to the shore.” They’re the first words that Lance has said for hours, and he stands slowly, grimacing as he stretches his body. “I’ll be back soon.” He’s gone before Chris can reply, walking toward the ocean without a backward glance.
Chris stays where he is, knowing Lance needs space on his own to think, which he’ll get. At least for a little while.
Heart thumping, Chris stops watching Lance and looks toward the pile of clothes that conceal JC, Justin and Joey when he hears a moan. Carefully he stands and staggers across, body almost frozen after hours in one spot, convinced that it’s JC he’s just heard.
“JC?”
For a long moment there’s nothing, no movement, no sound. Then suddenly there’s both as Justin sits up wildly, pushing off clothes to reveal JC looking around with half-open eyes.
“JC!” Justin yells, then quietens as JC visibly winces at the volume. “JC, oh god. JC.”
Joey’s sitting next to Justin now, and they all look at JC, unable to look away as he finally fully opens his eyes.
“What happened?” JC rasps the words out, slowly and painfully, but to Chris they’re sweeter than the purest note.
“We crashed. The plane, I don’t know how but we’re on an island. I think we are anyway, we haven’t really explored much.” Justin explains. All the time he holds JC’s hand, grip tight as JC makes an effort to look around.
“Lance?”
“He fine, he’s just gone to the ocean for a moment. I’ll go get him,” Chris says, and he starts to hurry after Lance, needing to walk and take use of the burst of energy JC waking up has given him.
It doesn’t take long to find Lance. He’s standing looking out to sea, a dark figure against a deep red sunrise. Hands on hips he suddenly turns, seeming to know that Chris is there even before a word has been said.
“I don’t think they’ll come today.” Lance says and he wraps his arms around himself, keeping them there as Chris hugs him from behind, resting their hands together.
“I know,” Chris agrees, and he kisses the back of Lance’s neck, needing the contact as he verbalises the thoughts he’s had all night. They’re not going to be found anytime soon, and that knowledge weighs heavy as he rests his cheek against Lance.
“We’re going to tell them?” Lance asks, picking up Chris’ thoughts easily.
“Not yet.” He thinks they’ll know anyway, but saying it out loud makes it more real, and reality is something they have too much of just now. Sometimes it’s best not to know, and this is one of those times.
Lance agrees with a small nod, and they stand watching the sunrise until Chris suddenly pulls back. “Hey, I came to tell you JC’s awake.”
They both smile at the news, grinning foolishly as they turn and try to race back. A race held at almost waking pace as they hobble back to camp where they find JC leaning against Justin, looking pale as Joey explains about the crash.
They wait until Joey finishes, then remain silent, allowing JC to process all he’s heard. He looks into the glowing embers of the fire, face half concealed by his hair, but Chris doesn’t have to see his expression to know how he’s feeling. It’s shown in the tightness of his shoulders, and the way his hands clench, clear signals JC’s fighting for control.
Chris knows he’s gained it when JC wipes the back of his hand across his eyes, then looks up, smiling when he finally notices they’re back.
Lance lightens the mood when he raises an eyebrow and looks down at JC. “It’s about time you woke up,” he says seriously despite the fact it’s obvious he’s fighting a grin.
“Well you know, I have this rep to keep up. I’m the one who likes to sleep.” JC looks back at Lance, copying his expression. They both crack at the same time, grinning as Lance drops to his knees and carefully pulls JC to him.
“Don’t frighten me like that again.” Lance’s words are barely audible as he speaks into JC’s hair. He pulls back with a last smile, shifting over a little so Chris can sit.
“Lance might have forgiven you but you’re still a lazy ass,” Chris jokes before turning semi serious. “Don’t do that again. You’ve aged me by ten years and I’m already old.”
“If I’m ever in another plane wreck I promise not to sleep through it. Okay?” The words are light but Chris knows JC understands his genuine fear, especially when he whispers I’ll be fine. Promise, as they hug.
Chris accepts the words and sits back, feeling his nerves calm for the first time in hours as he watches JC try to make himself comfortable against Justin.
“Something’s digging in.” Justin suddenly says with a frown, and he runs his hand between their bodies.
“It’ll be your watch, you gave it to me in the airport remember?” JC sounds puzzled, especially when Justin starts to laugh as he finally pulls the watch free, holding it up in triumph.
“I can’t believe I forgot.” Justin sounds disgusted with himself, then grins again as he presses a sequence of buttons while repeating, please work, please work, please work .
“Do you really need to know what time it is that badly?” Joey asks with a shake of his head. “It’s not like we’ve any place to go.”
“I don’t care what time it is. I’m setting off the emergency transmitter.” Justin looks up and holds out his watch, showing the red light that flashes on and off. “I knew it was worth the money I paid.”
Justin sounds triumphant and Chris doesn’t blame him. They all know what that watch can do after Justin spent weeks explaining its every feature, ignoring their teasing about spending so much money on things that would never be used. Now that watch could be their saviour, and they all stare at it, unable to look away from its blinking light.
“Justin, if I ever rag on you about your spending habits, tell me to shut the hell up,” Joey says, and he shakes his head before looking at them all with a grin. “We’re going home!”
“We might be out of range or it could be broken.” Chris hates being the voice of reason, but it has to be said.
“For the amount I paid for this baby it should work in space,” Justin interrupts, and he holds up the watch. “You’ve seen the specs. They’ll find us. It’s just a case of when.”
Chris shares a look with Justin, then smiles. He has seen the specs and knows Justin’s right. They will be found. Now all they have to do is wait, battered and bruised maybe, but they’re alive, and that’s a miracle in itself
***************
The watch Justin has is real. Interlock pointed me to it and the link's below if anyone has money to throw about ;)
http://breitling.com/en/models/professional/emergency_mission/
call_me_loca,dreamtrance, jaciesplace, clumsygyrl,ninjetti75 digital_diva and kathe with special thanks to interlock who continues to rock my world. You're all wonderful, thank you.If you're in the mood for a cliched, cheesy story, read on ;)
They’ve flown hundreds of times, thousands even, but it never seems to get easier. Chris still has that moment of fear when ice encases his body and his hands clasp the arm rests in a white-knuckled grip. The fear remains as they rise from the ground, swirling through his body as he sits rigid, forcing down the panic that battles to escape. It never does. Chris has years of practice at self-control and remains outwardly calm while inside he’s a mess. The others know; they always do, but it’s never a big deal. Instead he always has someone at his side, an arm brushing against his, a hand casually resting on his own. Familiar contact acting as anchors until they’re levelled off and the fear can be restrained.
It’s not that he doesn’t know they’re safe. He’s read the statistics. He knows there’s more chance of being run over by a bus than plummeting from the sky in a plane. The problem is no amount of statistics can soothe his jagged nerves, only pills or alcohol or the touch of his friends can make the fear manageable. Statistics are nothing but numbers that slide like quicksilver through his mind.
“We’re in the air,” Lance says softly.
Chris blinks his eyes and relaxes a little when he realises they’ve levelled off. Lance squeezes his hand once before bending forward, pulling a bag from under Justin’s seat. He stays bent over, pushing things aside before zipping the bag closed and sitting back up. Chris frowns at the magazine in Lance’s lap. If Lance wants to read, it means Chris needs to find other entertainment, not that there’s much choice in the tiny plane.
Twisting so he can look around, Chris takes in the place where he’ll spend the next two hours. Joey’s in the seat opposite, legs stretched into the aisle from his single seat. A book lies unopened on his lap while he sorts through a small pile of cds. Chris knows he’ll be asleep before he hears the first song or reads the first page. It’s inevitable; they’ve been working non-stop for months now and already the steady drone of the engines is making Joey’s eyes droop. Chris watches until Joey pushes the cds aside and rests his head between the window and seat, giving in to the inevitable.
That leaves JC and Justin, who are sharing the seat in front. JC’s a write off, asleep even before take off, but Justin’s a possibility. Hopefully he’s awake and ready to resume their Gameboy session. Anything but having to sit and listen to Joey’s soft snores and the rustle of pages.
Chris unbuckles his seatbelt and stands, peering over the seatback. Disappointed when he sees Justin fast asleep against JC’s side.
“Why don’t you sleep too?” Lance asks, resting his magazine in his lap.
“Because I’m not tired, moron,” Chris says, and sits back down, tapping his fingers against his leg. He feels antsy and confined, feelings that feed on each other until he can barely stay still. “Why do we have to do this thing anyway? We’re supposed to be on vacation.”
“We are on vacation. Four days on a tropical island. Three hours work singing at a birthday party. What more could you want? The pay’s a bonus .” Lance holds up a hand when Chris opens his mouth. “We’d be fools to turn this down.
“If we didn’t have to fly there in this death trap, maybe.” Chris indicates the plane with a wave of his hand. “The least they could do was provide a bigger plane. These six seater things freak me out.”
“You know the runway’s too short for bigger ones.” Lance picks up his magazine, clearly indicating the conversation’s over. “Now shut up and get some sleep.”
For a moment Chris considers being extra loud and annoying just to show he can’t be told what to do. Then decides against it when Lance reaches down - still reading his magazine - and pulls a pillow from his bag, dropping it on Chris’ lap.
“Sleep.”
Smiling a little, Chris rests the pillow on Lance’s shoulder, then settles down for a nap. Sometimes doing as you’re told is the only thing to do.
~*~*~*~
“Chris.”
Chris startles awake, heart pounding as he picks up on the fear Lance is trying to hide. Opening his eyes, he sits up straight, then swears as the plane dips suddenly, throwing him against the back of Justin’s chair.
“Get your belt on.” Lance reaches for Chris’ arm and pulls him back, then starts to fasten his own belt, tightening it as much as possible. “Are you fastened in?”
Chris looks around as the others answer in the affirmative. Joey attempts a smile but it’s obvious he’s worried as he grips the seat in front. All Chris can see of Justin and JC are the backs of their heads but he knows they’ll be fastened in too, so finishes pulling his belt as tight as it can go.
“What the hell’s going on?” Joey yells and as if in answer the intercom suddenly crackles into life.
We’re experiencing some turbulence. Keep your seatbelts fastened, and we’ll be out of it as soon as possible.
“No shit,” Lance swears softly before murmuring something under his breath.
Chris can’t hear what he’s saying and doesn’t really want to. He’s not an idiot and knows this is more than turbulence, especially when the plane lurches forward again, dropping fast. It feels like all his nightmares have become reality and terror grips his body, brutally stripping away any self-control.
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
Justin sounds on the verge of panic and far younger than he has for years. Hearing him so scared cuts through Chris’ own panic and he instinctively starts to go to him, reaching for his belt before Lance grabs his hand.
“Don’t be stupid. You need to leave that fastened. Justin, we’re not going to die, just hang on, we’ll be okay.” Lance leans forward, resting his hand on Justin’s shoulder as he looks at Chris. To someone who didn’t know him he looks calm and unruffled, but Chris can feel the way his fingers are digging into his, and can see the fear in his eyes.
“We’ll be okay, Bass,” Chris says confidently, hoping desperately he’s correct.
All passengers assume the crash position. I repeat all passengers assume the crash position.
Chris feels sick as he hears the words, then the world flips from under him as they plummet down, the screech of the engines the only sound. As he leans forward he sees Lance’s lips move, beyond him glimpses Joey bent over and looking terrified. The last thing he feels is Lance’s hand clutching his own. Then nothing.
~*~*~*~*~
Chris wakes slowly and painfully. Opening his eyes, he wonders why he’s lying on sand for a split second before the memories return in a sickening rush. He tries to push himself to his knees but falls back on his side as the pressure makes his wrist erupt with agony. Fighting against the urge to just lie still, he takes a deep breath and props himself up on his elbow as he looks around.
He could be in paradise, waves lap against white sand while the sun shines high in the cloudless sky, reminding Chris of countless beach vacations in his past. There’s one difference though. Those vacations didn’t feature the ruined remains of a small plane in the crystal water, or clouds of black smoke billowing in the sky, and they definitely didn’t feature a still body, lying half-submerged in the water.
The sight sends adrenalin through his body, and Chris struggles to his knees, crawling on both knees and one hand. He keeps the other tucked against his chest, using every coping technique he’s ever learned to push past the pain movement brings. Time seems to slow as he struggles along the shoreline, then stops altogether when he realises the figure in the surf is Justin, and that he’s not moving.
“Justin,” Chris tries to yell, but makes little more than a croak at first. “Justin!” This time he manages more volume, but still Justin remains motionless. On the verge of panic, Chris crawls closer and for the moment the fear takes control as he stops, afraid to touch, frightened of feeling icy flesh. He takes a ragged breath and reaches out a hand, pressing shaking fingers against Justin’s neck. For the longest time there’s nothing and Chris frantically tries to remember the basic first aid he was taught so many years ago. Then, like a miracle, he feels a movement, shallow but there.
“Justin. Justin, wake up,” Chris begs as he gently pats Justin’s face. Still he doesn’t move, but at least he’s alive and accounted for, unlike the others. Looking at the still smoking plane, Chris makes a decision and starts to drag Justin further up the beach, tugging until only his feet remain in the surf.
“I have to go now; I’ll be back soon,” Chris strokes his hand over Justin’s hair, brittle with dry sea water, then forces himself to stand, knowing crawling will take too long. Managing a painful hobble, he cradles his broken wrist against his chest, reaching the plane drenched in sweat and breathing hard.
Up close, the wreck looks even worse. Resting in deep water the nose is hidden and the nearest wing is cracked almost in half, pulling a sheet of metal away from the side. Chris tries to see inside the hole, shielding his eyes against the blinding sun with his good hand, but the interior is nothing but shadows.
“JC! Joey! Lance!” Chris yells, praying for an answer, or someone to wave or jump from the plane, anything but this chilling silence. His prayers aren’t answered, and he knows the only thing he can do is wade closer. The water’s warm when he steps into it, but he hisses as it hits his skin. Looking down he realises his jeans are torn and he's trailing blood behind him as he walks, and that that means his legs must be cut. He doesn't stop though.
Waist deep in the water when he reaches the plane, Chris stands near the broken wing and looks inside. The smell of blood makes him gag, and he rests a hand against hot metal, steadying himself as he fights against the urge to vomit. It’s the sound of tapping that finally makes him look up again, stealing himself before he looks inside. At first all he can see is darkness, but eventually shapes take forms and he recognises JC bent almost double in his seat, hair hanging down and hiding his face. One arm is exposed, streaked with blood that drips into the water that is filling the front half of the plane.
Lance should be close. His seat and Chris’ were next to the hole, and his bag is hooked on the torn metal under JC’s seat, contents spilling from the top. His magazine is floating in the water, but there’s no sign of Lance, and Chris feels panic rear again.
“Chris, is that you?”
Joey’s voice, sounding weak and afraid, breaks into Chris’ thoughts, and he looks past Lance’s seat to see Joey huddled in his own. At first he looks okay, frightened but unhurt. Then he turns and Chris sees the gash across his forehead, oozing blood that slowly drips down to his shirt. Bright red against tan material.
“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” Chris asks, despite being able to see he’s far from okay.
“I’m fine.” Joey blinks as if he’s trying to clear his vision as he dazedly looks around.
“Can you get out? I need your help.” Chris debates with himself about making Joey move without knowing if he’s hurt, but he has no choice. They need to get JC free and find Lance. Now.
“I think so,” Joey replies, and struggles with his seatbelt, tugging at the clasp with shaking hands.
Chris watches, feeling helpless as he tries how to get inside despite the razor sharp metal. The buckle suddenly comes free, and Joey slowly moves forward in his seat, causing the plane to rock with his movements.
“Slowly,” Chris says softly and he looks from Joey to JC, who still lies motionless. Joey nods and inches forward until he’s sitting on the edge of his seat.
“Can you see Lance?”
Joey seems bewildered at Chris’ question, looking around before shaking his head. “He’s not out there?”
“Not that I can see, he’s probably on the beach like Justin and I were.” Chris tries to sound encouraging, but it’s hard, especially when his stomach feels like lead at the knowledge Lance is missing.
“You’ve found Justin,” Joey exclaims, and for a moment he looks happier before the reality of their situation hits again. “He’s not….is he?”
“He’s okay,” Chris glosses over Justin’s condition, pushing aside guilt until he has Joey and JC on dry land and Lance has been found. “Can you free JC? He hasn’t moved since I’ve been here.”
For a moment Chris thinks Joey’s going to break down on him as he finally notices JC. Then he leans forward, reaching for the seatbelt. It seems to take forever to get JC free, but eventually he falls sideways as Joey carefully lifts him into the aisle. “I’ve got him and he’s breathing. Thank you, God.” Joey cradles JC on his lap and buries his face against wet hair before looking up. “Can you steady him as I pass him through?”
“Wait a second.” Chris carefully touches one of the razor sharp edges of the metal, feeling the cutting edge. Imagining JC and Joey going over that makes him cringe, and he starts to take off his shirt for padding when he sees the pillow Lance gave him jammed under a seat. Seeing there’s no way for Joey to reach it, especially holding JC, Chris jumps, grabbing for the pillow. He smiles once in triumph when he manages to hold onto it, then gasps in pain when his arm hits the edge, slicing into his skin.
“You okay?” Joey asks worriedly, and Chris nods, determined not to give into the fresh pain.
“It’s only a scrape. Come on, you need to get out.” Positioning the pillow, Chris knows how inadequate its protection is, but it’s better than nothing as Joey lifts JC passing him feet first across the seat. Chris uses his arms to hold JC’s bare feet, his good arm underneath and the broken one on top. Painfully slowly they inch backward until Joey’s holding JC over the edge of the plane.
“Are you sure you can hold him?”
Joey sounds doubtful and for good reason. JC’s a dead weight and Chris is far from steady, but desperation grants him strength and he nods his head. “I’ve got him.”
He does have him. Even when JC’s draped over him like a lead weight, all Chris does is stagger slightly and watch as Joey sits near the edge.
“I’ll go and take C to the shore, then come and help you.”
“I can get down myself, you look like you’re ready to drop any moment.”
Chris opens his mouth to disagree, then shuts it when a wave of dizziness hits. Closing his eyes, he waits it out, then looks back at Joey. “Be careful, okay?”
Then starts to walk to the shore. He tries to look back, worried about Joey, but JC’s heavy and it’s taking all Chris’ strength to walk through the water. Looking back isn’t an option.
When he hears a loud splash from behind, Chris is torn, needing to look and his heart races as he measures the distance to shore, debating how long it’ll take to get to JC to safety and back to Joey.
“I’m okay, I slipped.”
Chris relaxes when he hears Joey’s shout, almost dropping JC with his relief. Instead he walks the last few steps until he’s ankle deep and carefully lowers JC to the ground, before falling to his knees with a grunt. He takes a moment to catch his breath, hunched over a little as he forces back the pain, then focuses totally on JC. Pushing back his hair, Chris sees a huge bruise that spreads across his forehead and cheek as well as cuts probably caused by flying glass. There’s no other obvious injuries, not that Chris can check properly, at least not yet.
“He okay?” Joey falls to the ground next to Chris and hisses when he sees the bruise.
“I think so,” Chris knows Joey hears the uncertainty of his words, but they both pretend it’s not there. It’s the only way they can cope just now, by pretending things will be fine. “Help me get him into the rescue position.”
They carefully move JC, working together until he’s on his side. The last time they did this JC had giggled at every movement, filling the room with his laughter as Chris tickled and the first aid instructor glared and muttered about wasting his time. Now JC’s totally still, his body limp as he’s manoeuvred into position. Chris would do anything to hear a giggle now.
“It’s not funny when you need to do it.” Joey remarks, and Chris knows he’s remembering that time too. When first aid classes were fun, planning for a disaster that would never happen.
“Are you okay?” Chris asks, forcing thoughts of JC’s laughter from his mind. It’s a stupid question, but Joey takes it for what it is.
“I’m okay. Just have a bit of a headache.” Joey looks at Chris, indicating his arm. “You need to get that fixed up.”
“I will, later. Let me see your head first.” Chris uses Joey’s arm to pull himself up and looks closely at the deep cut. “That’ll need stitches.”
“Which I’ll get where?” Joey asks, tone sarcastic as he bats away Chris’ hand.
“Justin’s got that travel sewing kit Lynn gave him. He’ll fix you up in no time; give you a choice of thread colour even.” Chris bites back a grin at Joey’s theatrical wince, then turns serious again. “We need to get to J, and find Lance. Or look for Lance first.” It’s an almost impossible decision. Do they spend time looking for Lance and leave Justin? Or get Justin first knowing Lance could be in real danger?
“J first,” Joey says without hesitation. “You know where he is at least. I don’t like the idea of leaving him alone while we’re looking and who knows how long we’ll be searching for”
“Okay,” Chris agrees. He’s relived in one way. It hurt to think about leaving Justin alone for even longer, but at the same time, he’s aware that time is something Lance may not have.
Joey stands. “Are we bringing Justin here or going to him?”
“We’ll bring Justin here. We’re closer to the trees here and can move there when you get back. Watch C, I’ll be back soon.”
“Wait,” Joey grabs Chris’ t-shirt. “You watch, I’ll go for Justin.” Joey shakes his head when Chris tries to argue. “There’s no way you can carry him. Just tell me where he is, and I’ll go get him.”
Joey’s right and Chris knows it, so he points along the beach where he left Justin.
“He’s over there, a few minutes walk near the sea, I couldn’t pull him any further.”
It seems like an admittance of failure, and Chris sinks back to the ground as Joey walks away, heavily favouring his left side.
Chris watches him until he’s becomes a blur, then turns. Wiping the blood from his hand on his pants, he gently lies it palm down on JC’s chest, needing the reassurance that someone alive is close. Squeezing shut his eyes, he pretends JC is lying asleep on the sand. He’s wearing a gaudy shirt and board shorts with flowery flip flops on his feet. There’s a drink at his side and headphones clamped to his ears. He won’t be bloody and bruised with clothes ripped and destroyed, and he definitely won’t be lying still as death, face pale except for the bruising.
The problem is, he is, and Chris knows it. He knows reality too well, has taught himself to look beyond the fantasy to the plain facts beyond, and this time the facts make him more frightened than he ever has been. He realises his friends could die, and Lance could already be dead. Brutal cold facts that make Chris shudder with ice-cold fear.
That fear still clings when Chris opens his eyes, coating his skin and bone deep. In a way it’s familiar, the terror he feels when he’s unable to protect his friends and family, and it’s that familiarity that saves him now. Long practice allows him to push it aside to concentrate on the now, and not the what if.
“Hey, C. It’s about time you woke up. You’ve been sleeping forever.” Chris pushes back the curls that are plastered to JC’s forehead, trying to remember the facts about unconsciousness he was forced to remember so long ago. He swears with frustration when the memories stay hidden, concealed by a layer of pain that makes deep thinking impossible. Placing his hand back in its former position, needing the reassurance of feeling breathing, he talks to JC. “Come on, you lazy ass. I know you’re tired but you need to wake up. How am I supposed to have an adult conversation with you like that? You know the others are infants.” Chris can’t help waiting for JC to respond even though he knows he’ll be disappointed. Which he is, but that doesn’t stop him talking. “Oh hey, I’ve got blood on your shirt. Good thing it was ugly anyway.”
Still resting his palm against JC’s chest, he turns, needing to look away from JC’s still face, and is relieved to see Joey walking slowly back, Justin leaning heavily against his side.
“Justin!” Scrambling to his feet, Chris hurries to meet them and ducks under Justin’s free arm, helping to hold him up. None of them speak as they stumble to JC, where they all collapse in a heap.
“You okay?”
It’s still a redundant question but Chris can’t help asking it. Justin looks far from okay. He’s battered like them all and one of his sneakers is missing, something Chris can’t help noticing as he looks him over.
“I’ll be fine, just have a bit of a headache,” Justin replies, and he looks over at JC. “What’s up with JC?”
“He’s being a lazy ass, aren’t you, C?” Chris pats JC’s arms gently, then looks back at Justin. “He’s been like this since we got him from the plane.” He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t have too; he can see Justin understands the seriousness of the situation by the set of his face.
“Lance?”
Chris looks at the sand, counting the small dots of blood, delaying actually saying the words. “He wasn’t in the plane, or next to you or me. I’m going to look for him now.”
“I’m coming too.”
“And me.”
Joey and Justin speak together and Chris knows they’ll go whether he agrees or not. At least one of them will, the other needs to stay with JC.
“Someone has to stay here.” Chris looks from Joey to Justin as they seem to have a non verbal conversation that ends with Joey sitting back down.
“Hey, C. Chris and Justin are going to go find Lance. You lie here and get some rest. They’ll be back soon.” Joey holds JC’s hand and looks back up. “When you find Lance, tell him I’m waiting to kick his ass for scaring us.”
“You’ve got it,” Justin says, and he walks away, rubbing at his eyes.
It’s hard to leave but Chris don’t have a choice. They’re one down and until Lance is found, there’s no way any of them can relax. Pain has to be blocked and hidden strength used until they know what’s happened, one way or the other.
“I think we should split up,” Justin says. He’s looking along the beach, distractedly rubbing his eyes still. He looks calm and collected, but he’s not, that’s visible with a glance, even without his red rimmed eyes. The last thing Chris wants to do is leave him, but it’s a good idea to separate. They have to when every second could count.
“I agree.” Chris tries to imagine how the plane landed, and how far someone could fall if they were torn out. He’d woken up to the right of the crash site, same for Justin. Lance should be there too, but he isn’t and Chris tries not to imagine him trapped underwater, desperately gasping for breath, eyes wide as water floods his lungs.
“I’ll check around the plane again. You should go that way.” Chris hasn’t taken a step before both Justin holds out a hand.
“I’ll check round the plane, you take the beach,” Justin sounds insistent and he carefully touches Chris’ wrist making him wince. “There’s no way you can go poking around one handed. Leave this to me, okay?”
“Fine.” Chris shares a look with Justin and his expression tells everything. They’re both thinking the same things and expect to find Lance too late. It’s a nightmare situation and neither want to subject the other to the pain of discovery, but in this case practicality has to win out, and that means Chris takes the beach.
Chris and Justin split up when they reach the plane. Justin wades into the water without a pause, eyes fixed on the wreck. Chris wants to stay and watch but forces himself to move on. Rubbing at his eyes, he squints against the glare of the sun on the ocean, wishing he had his glasses, and a million other things, nearby.
Its ten minutes after leaving Justin that Chris sees it, or at least he estimates it is as his watch – despite its claims of being unbreakable - is stuck at one thirty, and has been since he woke. At first he thinks it’s nothing but a reflection on the waves, but as he comes closer, he makes out a splash of colour against a half submerged rock. Dark red, like Lance’s shirt would be once it’s wet.
Forcing himself to hurry, Chris nears the rock then enters the water, heart pounding as he imagines Lance lying so close. Then stands still, numb when he realises it is Lance’s shirt, but that’s all. Pulling it free, he holds the sodden material in his hands, twisting it as he tries to calm his racing heart.
“Chris!”
The shout fills the air, Justin at full volume. It sounds urgent but there’s no desperation or grief, and for the first time Chris allows himself to hope, a hope that’s vindicated when he hears Justin yell again.
“He’s alive!”
Chris manages the journey back to the crash site in a few minutes, relief making his body light as he runs despite the constant pain. When he finally sees Justin sitting with his arm around Lance, Chris runs again, needing to be close. They look up at his arrival, as he sinks to the ground, desperate to touch.
“You been hiding from us, Bass?” It’s a weak but instinctive joke, covering the fact Chris wants to cling and never let go. He settles for a careful hug, burying his face against Lance’s hair followed by a quick kiss against wet skin.
“I found him inside the plane; he suddenly appeared after I’d been looking around for a while, frightened the life out of me.” Justin says, and squeezes Lance’s shoulder.
“You were frightened,” Lance says and for a moment Chris sees remembered terror in his expression before it’s replaced by blankness. “I woke up and none of you were there.”
“They couldn’t see you,” Justin sounds stricken and Chris knows exactly how he feels as Lance continues with his story.
“I was under the spare seat. I don’t know how I got there but that’s where I was. I shouted for you all but no one came. It took me a while to pull myself out. I was jammed good. Then when I did no one was there. I even dove to the cockpit to check; only the pilot was there.”
“The pilot. I forgot about him.” Justin sounds sickened. “Is he…”
“He must have been underwater since we crashed. There was nothing I could do.”
Lance stops talking, and Chris can only look at him in horror. Lance was there the whole time. Jammed under a seat and they left him to die. The knowledge of that’s like a kick to the stomach, making him feel sick. Then there’s the pilot, Wayne, who shook their hands and showed Joey a picture of his daughter as they waited for the plane to refuel. Chris hadn’t even given him a second though, and now he’s dead.
“I’m sorry.” Guilt weights heavy as Chris looks at Lance who seems frozen in place as he stares down at the sand. “I shouldn’t have left you.”
“It’s not your fault; I know you’d never leave me on purpose.” Lance looks up and reaches for Chris’ hand, linking their fingers together. “I thought you were all dead.”
The pain in his voice is obvious, and Chris helps the only way he can right now, hugging Lance and offering his comfort and love before pulling back a little, needing Justin to be close too.
They sit in a three-way embrace before Justin says, “We’d better get back.” Then stands, toeing off his sneaker and abandoning it without a backward glance. Chris and Lance follow, and they walk back to the others, needing to be together, knowing they’ll need their strength to survive.
~*~*~*~
“Now that we’re all together, we need to know how badly everyone’s hurt.” Joey looks around the circle they’ve made after carrying JC closer to the trees, his gaze lingering on JC, who’s still lying unconscious. “No bullshitting, either.”
“I think I might have broken my nose,” Lance says, and he gingerly indicates the bridge of his nose. “I can’t feel anything else major, just cuts and bruises.”
“I’ve got a major headache and feel like I’ve been rubbed over a cheese grater.” Justin lifts his shirt, exposing his belly and chest mottled with bruises and areas that are rubbed raw. “I think I’ve broken some toes too.”
“You’ve what?” Chris questions sharply, and looks at Justin’s toes that are hidden under white socks. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I’ve danced on broken bones before. Walking’s no different.” Justin says flatly, then points to Chris’ arm held against his chest.
Chris doesn’t reply at first, knowing what Justin says is true - both parts. Then he shrugs, letting it go. “It looks like I’ve broken my arm again. The rests cuts and bruises. Joey?”
Lance looks like he’s going to speak, then stops when Joey talks.
“My side took most of the impact I think. It’s kind of hard to breath deep but mostly I’m fine. It’s C I’m worried about.”
As one they all look at JC, and Chris feels the worry multiply inside of him as he imagines what could be wrong.
Justin moves so he can pick up JC’s hand. Running his thumb in small circles, he seems lost in thought, then suddenly looks up. “He’s going to be fine, aren’t you, JC? He just needs to rest.” Justin sounds convinced and looks at them in turn. “We’re going to be fine. We should have died in that crash, you all know it, but we didn’t. That has to mean something.”
It’s confidence built on shaky foundations, but it’s enough to encourage Chris. They might be stranded and hurt, but they’ll be fine, they have to be. It’s a feeling that seems to be shared by the others as they look at one another, saying nothing but still knowing they’ve made a vow to survive, whatever it takes.
“Let’s see your arm,” Lance breaks the silence and shifts so he’s at Chris’ side.
Reluctantly, Chris extends his arm, trying to suppress a cringe when Lance runs his fingers along it.
“He needs some kind of splint. We’ll have to find a branch or something and things to use as bandages.” Justin carefully lets go of JC’s hand to join Lance. “We should be able to use the stuff in our luggage if we can get to them. Then we can fix each other up.”
“You a doctor or something now?” Chris asks sharply, using impatience to hide his pain.
“Nope, still just a superstar, but I’ve seen it on tv a million times, that has to count for something.” Justin says seriously, then gets to his feet, only showing how much he’s hurting when he uses Joey’s shoulder to heave himself up. “I’m going to the plane to see if I can get our stuff.”
“Wait, you’re not going alone. I’m coming.” Within seconds, Joey’s standing next to Justin. “You two wait here with JC.”
It’s pointless to protest, plus Chris doesn’t think he could get up again. He feels weak, cold and shivery; something Lance seems to notice as he carefully moves closer as the others leave.
“Justin Timberlake, MD. Graduate of the school of medical reality shows. I think we’re screwed.” Chris smiles briefly at Lance and lets himself be pulled close. In reality, he knows Justin’s more than capable of taking charge, and they all have working medical knowledge gathered from years of patching each other up on the go.
“I’ve been trying to work out where we are, but I’m pulling a blank,” Lance says bleakly. “If I knew, I’d be able to work out how long it’ll take rescuers to arrive. As it is, I’m guessing, and even then it depends if a distress call was sent out. It could be hours, or weeks. I just don’t know.”
“Quit that.” Chris grabs Lance’s fist, stopping him punching the sand again. “You don’t have to know; none of us do.”
“Yes, I do,” Lance protests, and he pulls his hand free. “Look at JC, look at you. What’s going to happen if we have to stay here for weeks?”
“For all we know, we could be on a resort island and there’s a club full of half-naked beautiful people behind those trees.” Chris goes to nudge Lance before thinking better of it and winking instead. “They’ll love to see that Bass ass. You’ll be the star of the place.”
“I suppose they’ll have drinks in frosty glasses with tiny umbrellas too?” Lance questions with a grin that he drops within seconds. “Damn it Chris, you’re not supposed to cheer me up. We’re in trouble here”
“I know we are.” Chris says seriously, and he lays his hand on Lance’s leg. “That doesn’t mean you can’t smile.”
“I suppose,” Lance admits reluctantly, then falls silent again as he rests his hand over Chris’, linking together their fingers. They stay like that until Joey and Justin appear, soaking wet and carrying three bags and what looks like a small branch from a tree.
”We couldn’t get to J’s and JC’s stuff, but we got the rest.” Joey drops the bag he’s carrying and sits down carefully.
Justin does the same, then unzips Lance’s carry on and empties it out. They quickly sort through the contents, laying out clothes to dry and making a small pile of snacks. The cds and player are thrown to one side with the magazines, books, and the small bag that Lance pulls from Justin’s hands with the words those are personal.
The other bags get the same treatment until they have a pile of things that are useless, a pile of food and clothes, and pillows and blankets spread all around. There’s also medical supplies, monster-covered band aids, antiseptic cream and assorted pills that are woefully inadequate for their needs.
“Who’s first?” Justin takes charge again, looking around, then stopping when his gaze reaches Chris. “You’re up, Kirkpatrick.”
Chris is reluctant. He remembers the last time he broke his arm and he had good drugs and a clean hospital then. Now all he has is Justin, a branch snapped in two, and one of Joey’s shirts that’s being ripped into ragged lengths. Which is scary but at the same time this is Justin, and Chris trusts him completely to try his best, and always has.
“Get to it, Dr Timberlake,” Chris jokes, then smiles reassuringly at Justin who looks nervous as he sits cross-legged with his supplies at his side. This isn’t going to be easy for any of them, but they’ll get through it, like they always do.
~*~*~*~
“We need to get some firewood before it gets dark.” Lance looks toward the trees then up at the sun. “It’s going to get cold soon, and it’ll help if any animals are roaming.”
Chris looks at the tree line too. None of them have explored that way yet, they’ve been too busy tending wounds and settling jagged nerves. They’ve spent time resting, needing too be close, but Lance is right, they need a fire, and soon.
“I’ll go.” Chris shakes his head when it looks like Justin’s about to protest. “I can still pick up wood.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Justin protests, standing himself. “Someone needs to stay with JC.”
Joey’s volunteers to stay, and soon Chris is walking between trees that tower above his head and through plants that catch on his legs as he passes. Things seem muted under the tree canopy, and they all talk in whispers, afraid to disturb the peace.
“Look, up there,” Justin says, and he points upwards. “There are coconuts up there.”
They all look up, and Chris can just see what Justin can, coconuts near the top of the tree.
“At least we won’t starve.” Lance sounds unenthusiastic and Chris can’t blame him, imagining a diet of nothing but coconut.
“It means we won’t dehydrate, either; that’s the most important thing. There’s coconut milk in the older ones but the immature ones are supposed to have a lot of water inside.” Justin doesn’t seem to notice their stares, just keeps looking up. “Problem is, those kind are right at the top. We’ll have to climb.”
None of them question Justin’s words. They all know random facts like this; it’s a side effect of a diet of tv from all around the world mixed with weeks’ worth of waiting, reading anything at hand to keep away boredom.
Justin looks like he’s about to take a leap at the tree at any minute, so Chris grabs his wrist before he moves. “Do your monkey impression tomorrow; we’ve got bottled water for tonight.”
“Okay,” Justin agrees. He sounds torn between relief and reluctance but moves on anyway, bending to pick up a long stick.
It doesn’t take long to collect armfuls of firewood. The ground is covered in dry brush and branches from the palm trees which they gather up and carry back to their make- shift camp. Once there, Lance and Justin carefully arrange the wood, stepping back and looking at the unlit fire when it’s done to their satisfaction.
“We need a flint or something,” Justin says, looking around. “I don’t know if there’ll be flints on the beach, and even if they are, we won’t be able to see in the dark. Or we could try using a stick and string…”
“Or you could just use this.” Chris hands over the lighter from his bag, keeping his expression blank as Justin looks from the lighter to him.
Justin glares for an instant and opens his mouth as if to comment, then shakes his head, leaning forward and cupping his hand over the flame until one of the dry sticks ignite. It doesn’t take long for the whole pile to light, and everyone stares toward the flames that crackle and shoot sparks into the air.
“Does anyone want water?” Justin asks, and he picks up a bottle of water from the pile. Uncapping it, he takes a drink, then passes on the bottle. The water’s warm when Chris drinks, but he has to stop himself from draining it all. They have three bottles of water and five cans of soda and that’s it, unless Justin’s immature coconut fact is right. Lance passes the bottle back to Justin, who carefully tips small amounts on JC’s lips until there’s nothing left.
Food-wise, they’re slightly better off. Chips, candy bars, and bags of nuts lie in a pile, and Lance takes a Snickers bar, holding it up to Chris. “Want to share?”
“Not really, but I’d better.” Chris replies, and takes some when Lance holds out the opened chocolate. It takes wonderful and he chews slowly, alternating bites with Lance. Joey and Justin are doing the same.
“Do you think rescue is on the way?” Joey looks uncomfortable when they all look at him, crumpling the M&Ms packet in his hand. “You’re all thinking it.”
“I don’t know,” Lance says slowly. “I’ve been thinking about it, but it depends on so much. If a distress signal was sent. Did the pilot contact anyone before we went down? They’ll have logged the flight plan and missed us by now but…” He hesitates, looking at Joey, then back to the fire. “There are so many tiny islands in this area, it would take forever to search them all. They will find us, I just don’t know if it’ll be in time.”
Lance keeps looking at the fire, obviously hating being the one who had to lay down the facts. Chris moves closer to him, resting against his side, watching the shadows flicker across the faces of his friends. Justin looks exhausted, heavy-eyed and half-asleep against Joey’s shoulder. His foot rests on a bag topped by a pillow, three of his toes strapped together by thin strips of material – Lance’s favourite shirt if Chris is any judge.
Joey seems lost in thought, eyes unblinking as he stares toward the ocean. Looking at him makes Chris’ stomach clench, as he recognises the cloud of desperation that’s descended now the activity of the day is over and thinking is the only thing to do.
“You okay?” Lance asks softly, and he turns a little so he can hug Chris with one arm. Doing so makes the shadows shift on his face, deepening the black eyes caused by his broken nose.
“I’m okay, tired. Worried about JC.”
“Yeah, me too.”
They both look over at JC. It’s been almost seven hours now and he still hasn’t woke up. Apart from his chest moving, he looks dead, and Chris spends long minutes listening to him. One breath in, one breath out. Making sure JC’s really alive.
“I’m going to get some shut-eye,” Joey says, looking at them through the flames.
Chris watches as he lays the sleeping Justin down next to JC, covering them with a selection of shirts and pants. Then he lies down himself, hissing with pain as he props himself up on one side before pulling a shirt over his shoulders.
“You want to sleep?” Lance asks. “I can stay up and keep the fire going.”
“You’re going to sit up all night worrying about where we are aren’t you?” When Lance doesn’t reply, Chris knows he’s right and sighs softly, knowing nothing he can say will make him change his mind. “If you’re staying up, so am I.”
They both stay up through the night, close together they sit tending the fire they don’t dare let go out. They can’t, because as terrifying as this situation is now, in the dark they know it’ll be worse.
~*~*~*~*~
“I’m going to walk down to the shore.” They’re the first words that Lance has said for hours, and he stands slowly, grimacing as he stretches his body. “I’ll be back soon.” He’s gone before Chris can reply, walking toward the ocean without a backward glance.
Chris stays where he is, knowing Lance needs space on his own to think, which he’ll get. At least for a little while.
Heart thumping, Chris stops watching Lance and looks toward the pile of clothes that conceal JC, Justin and Joey when he hears a moan. Carefully he stands and staggers across, body almost frozen after hours in one spot, convinced that it’s JC he’s just heard.
“JC?”
For a long moment there’s nothing, no movement, no sound. Then suddenly there’s both as Justin sits up wildly, pushing off clothes to reveal JC looking around with half-open eyes.
“JC!” Justin yells, then quietens as JC visibly winces at the volume. “JC, oh god. JC.”
Joey’s sitting next to Justin now, and they all look at JC, unable to look away as he finally fully opens his eyes.
“What happened?” JC rasps the words out, slowly and painfully, but to Chris they’re sweeter than the purest note.
“We crashed. The plane, I don’t know how but we’re on an island. I think we are anyway, we haven’t really explored much.” Justin explains. All the time he holds JC’s hand, grip tight as JC makes an effort to look around.
“Lance?”
“He fine, he’s just gone to the ocean for a moment. I’ll go get him,” Chris says, and he starts to hurry after Lance, needing to walk and take use of the burst of energy JC waking up has given him.
It doesn’t take long to find Lance. He’s standing looking out to sea, a dark figure against a deep red sunrise. Hands on hips he suddenly turns, seeming to know that Chris is there even before a word has been said.
“I don’t think they’ll come today.” Lance says and he wraps his arms around himself, keeping them there as Chris hugs him from behind, resting their hands together.
“I know,” Chris agrees, and he kisses the back of Lance’s neck, needing the contact as he verbalises the thoughts he’s had all night. They’re not going to be found anytime soon, and that knowledge weighs heavy as he rests his cheek against Lance.
“We’re going to tell them?” Lance asks, picking up Chris’ thoughts easily.
“Not yet.” He thinks they’ll know anyway, but saying it out loud makes it more real, and reality is something they have too much of just now. Sometimes it’s best not to know, and this is one of those times.
Lance agrees with a small nod, and they stand watching the sunrise until Chris suddenly pulls back. “Hey, I came to tell you JC’s awake.”
They both smile at the news, grinning foolishly as they turn and try to race back. A race held at almost waking pace as they hobble back to camp where they find JC leaning against Justin, looking pale as Joey explains about the crash.
They wait until Joey finishes, then remain silent, allowing JC to process all he’s heard. He looks into the glowing embers of the fire, face half concealed by his hair, but Chris doesn’t have to see his expression to know how he’s feeling. It’s shown in the tightness of his shoulders, and the way his hands clench, clear signals JC’s fighting for control.
Chris knows he’s gained it when JC wipes the back of his hand across his eyes, then looks up, smiling when he finally notices they’re back.
Lance lightens the mood when he raises an eyebrow and looks down at JC. “It’s about time you woke up,” he says seriously despite the fact it’s obvious he’s fighting a grin.
“Well you know, I have this rep to keep up. I’m the one who likes to sleep.” JC looks back at Lance, copying his expression. They both crack at the same time, grinning as Lance drops to his knees and carefully pulls JC to him.
“Don’t frighten me like that again.” Lance’s words are barely audible as he speaks into JC’s hair. He pulls back with a last smile, shifting over a little so Chris can sit.
“Lance might have forgiven you but you’re still a lazy ass,” Chris jokes before turning semi serious. “Don’t do that again. You’ve aged me by ten years and I’m already old.”
“If I’m ever in another plane wreck I promise not to sleep through it. Okay?” The words are light but Chris knows JC understands his genuine fear, especially when he whispers I’ll be fine. Promise, as they hug.
Chris accepts the words and sits back, feeling his nerves calm for the first time in hours as he watches JC try to make himself comfortable against Justin.
“Something’s digging in.” Justin suddenly says with a frown, and he runs his hand between their bodies.
“It’ll be your watch, you gave it to me in the airport remember?” JC sounds puzzled, especially when Justin starts to laugh as he finally pulls the watch free, holding it up in triumph.
“I can’t believe I forgot.” Justin sounds disgusted with himself, then grins again as he presses a sequence of buttons while repeating, please work, please work, please work .
“Do you really need to know what time it is that badly?” Joey asks with a shake of his head. “It’s not like we’ve any place to go.”
“I don’t care what time it is. I’m setting off the emergency transmitter.” Justin looks up and holds out his watch, showing the red light that flashes on and off. “I knew it was worth the money I paid.”
Justin sounds triumphant and Chris doesn’t blame him. They all know what that watch can do after Justin spent weeks explaining its every feature, ignoring their teasing about spending so much money on things that would never be used. Now that watch could be their saviour, and they all stare at it, unable to look away from its blinking light.
“Justin, if I ever rag on you about your spending habits, tell me to shut the hell up,” Joey says, and he shakes his head before looking at them all with a grin. “We’re going home!”
“We might be out of range or it could be broken.” Chris hates being the voice of reason, but it has to be said.
“For the amount I paid for this baby it should work in space,” Justin interrupts, and he holds up the watch. “You’ve seen the specs. They’ll find us. It’s just a case of when.”
Chris shares a look with Justin, then smiles. He has seen the specs and knows Justin’s right. They will be found. Now all they have to do is wait, battered and bruised maybe, but they’re alive, and that’s a miracle in itself
***************
The watch Justin has is real. Interlock pointed me to it and the link's below if anyone has money to throw about ;)
http://breitling.com/en/models/professional/emergency_mission/
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Date: 2004-09-06 05:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 05:35 am (UTC)It was total cheese I know that.
Thanks for sticking it out ;)
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Date: 2004-09-06 05:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 06:13 am (UTC)Thank you! Both for your comment and your help. It means a lot to me.
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Date: 2004-09-06 07:48 am (UTC)Justin Timberlake, MD. Graduate of the school of medical reality shows. I think we’re screwed.
and the fact that he was disappointed by the lighter. LOL.
And Lance's bag of personal items... hahaha.
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Date: 2004-09-06 08:04 am (UTC)You just know Justin wanted to try make fire on his own, and as for Lance, he's protective of his personal items ;)
Thank you!
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Date: 2004-09-06 08:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 08:31 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked it because it gave me all kinds of trouble writing it. At least I know I prefer writing more 'real' stories now.
I felt sorry for poor Lance too :( But he had Chris, in the tiny bits of Trickyfish I managed to get in.
Thank you!
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Date: 2004-09-06 08:32 am (UTC)The hint of Trickyfish was also quite nice, and I liked relationships and interactions between all of the guys.
Thanks for posting and sharing!
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Date: 2004-09-06 08:34 am (UTC)hee - Justin got to save the day and be the doctor for a day, even if he didn't get to be a boy scout or a monkey, and I'm glad Lance was conscious to assent to the tearing up of his favourite shirt, and - it's cheasy chease but it's *good* cheasy chease where you can see the palm tree sets wobbling... *smooches*
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Date: 2004-09-06 08:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 08:41 am (UTC)The whole cliche thing had me off balance as I was writing this. Because the plot is a total cliche and it would be so easy to go OTT.
Really the story could have easily been gen. Man. Did I really say that? The trickyfish were downgraded because I was having so many problems actually writing that adding a complex relationship would have been too much, which is a shame.
Thank you for the comment :)
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Date: 2004-09-06 08:44 am (UTC)Did the end work for you? I was a little unsure.
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Date: 2004-09-06 08:50 am (UTC)I have to admit it's a kind of story I'll never try again. I know the cliches are supposed to be there but writing and reading them was a little too much.
But yes, Justin saved the day in the kind of ending that makes you yell at soap operas 'they can't end like that!' ;)
Thanks again for all your help with this.
*hugs you hard*
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Date: 2004-09-06 09:37 am (UTC)This line sounds a bit confusing now though:
“I’ll check around the plane again. You should go different directions along the beach.”
I know you originally had 3 of them searching, but now that you're down to 2, I can't see Chris telling Justin to "go in different directions". Maybe, "the other way" or "down that way, while I check around the plane."
The ending is much better in this version, with them knowing they'll be rescued. Yea! for Justin's watch-spending habits!
Very nicely done! I'm glad you finished it rather than tossing it aside. :)
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Date: 2004-09-06 09:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 10:19 am (UTC)Thank you! I was trying to come up with a way to say this exact same thing but couldn't. This is exactly how I felt about it. :)
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Date: 2004-09-06 10:37 am (UTC)if you'd killed off JC, man, I would have cried!!!!
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Date: 2004-09-06 10:56 am (UTC)Even as a cleche, this still was an amazing story, well written and thought out well. Better than most soap operas, in fact. And the Dougie Howser thing. Made my heart melt I tell you. MELT!
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Date: 2004-09-06 11:06 am (UTC)Loved, loved, loved Justin to pieces in it. Little savior!boy that he is.
The watch thing was very The Bold and the Beautiful of you. Sneaky you!
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Date: 2004-09-06 06:07 pm (UTC)I actually really liked that story! I got so into it, it didn't seem cliched. At all. I knew they were gonna crash from what you've said about the story but my little heart broke when Justin asked if they were gonna die. *breathes*
They're okay!
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Date: 2004-09-06 07:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 03:57 am (UTC)I'm really pleased that people liked it, because I really wasn't sure how it was going to go over.
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Date: 2004-09-07 04:02 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it! You know that I was having trouble writing it so I'm really glad it worked for you. Poor Justin, he was so scared but ended as the hero.
Thank you!
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Date: 2004-09-07 07:08 am (UTC)I'm so glad you enjoyed the story, and especially glad that you didn't think of the cliche as your were reading.
Thanks for the comment :)